CHAPTER IX
Ivy Hayes
"I've no faith in the police, no faith in detectives and no faith inanybody!"
This wholesale skepticism was voiced by Millicent Lindsay, andaddressed to her small audience of friends gathered in her library.
"It's outrageous," she went on, "nearly a week has passed since mybrother's murder, and no real step has been taken to find hismurderer."
"Steps have been taken," said Louis, "but they all seem to have beentaken in the wrong direction."
"At any rate they led nowhere," Millicent went on. "Nobody knowsanything; nobody can explain the mystery of the two shots. Nobodyknows of any motive for the crime."
"You've ceased to suspect Phyllis, then," Philip Barry said, his smilea little forced as he eagerly awaited the answer.
"I have and I haven't," Millicent returned, speaking slowly. "Ofcourse, it seems absurd to think a young girl like Phyllis would dosuch a dreadful thing--but--she won't tell where she was, and, too,she didn't like my brother--at least, she didn't welcome his offer ofmarriage, and if she knew of his will, and I think she did, whyshouldn't I suspect her?"
"Well, quit suspecting her," Louis growled. "Phyllis is as innocent asa baby. You're off your head, Millicent, to dream of such a thing."
"All right, why won't she tell where she was at the time of the crime,then?"
"She doesn't have to. Nobody really suspects her, and her affairs haveno reason to be inquired into. That right, Barry?"
"Yes, of course. I think Phyllis would be wise to say where she was atthe time. But, I say, Millicent, I'm going to get busy myself, and doa little detective work. Like you, I feel the investigations so farhave led nowhere."
"Have you a suspicion----" began Louis.
"Not a suspicion, exactly, but a pretty strong notion of which way tolook. I won't say what it is, for I had another hunch, that prettymuch fell through; but now I'm going to work on a new line, and Ithink I may unearth something."
"You won't," said Millicent, despondently. "You're all alike--dig up alot of evidence and then never prove anything from it. Do tell me,Phil, what way your suspicions turn."
"Why, yes, I'll tell you, for I think you ought to be kept informed. Ican't help leaning to the chorus girl theory. I feel sure that furcollar was left by the girl at that time, and as I see it, she couldhave gone there with some man, a friend of hers who either was jealousof Mr Gleason, or who had it in for him for some other reason. Thensuppose, in a quarrel, the man shot Gleason--perhaps Gleasonthreatened him--anyway, you can't tell what occurred, but I'm going tofind the girl."
"You're all wrong," said Louis, and his voice was so full ofconcentrated passion that Barry looked up quickly.
"You're all wrong," Louis repeated; "the idea of a man shootinganother man before a girl! Do have a little sense of probability,Barry."
"I have, and it's not an impossibility that the deed should have beencommitted before the girl witness. I've thought it all out. I don'tbelieve it was premeditated, but suppose the pair went there to settlea grievance and Mr Gleason lost his temper and threatened hisvisitor--the man--and in a quarrel, the pistol was flourished about,and the visitor grabbed it and shot, maybe in self-defense."
"All theory," scoffed Louis. "Nothing at all to back it up."
"I'm going to find out," Barry persisted. "I'm going to find the ownerof that fur----"
"I wish you wouldn't, Phil." Louis' face was white and his voicetrembled a little.
"Why, Louis," Millicent exclaimed; "what's the matter? Do you knowanything about this business? Actually, from your agitation you mightbe unduly interested."
"No! I don't know anything about it, but I think it's awful to huntdown some poor little innocent girl----"
"I'm not hunting her--I'm hunting the man who was with her."
"A purely imaginary man!" Louis exclaimed.
"So far. But if he doesn't materialize, there's no harm done."
Just then, Phyllis came in with Manning Pollard.
"We've been for a walk," she said, and the roses in her cheeks provedthe good effects of the exercise. "Mr Pollard said I needed moreoutdoor air, so we walked forty-five blocks. I wish you'd go out,Millicent, it would do you good."
"Come on, Mrs Lindsay," Pollard suggested; "I'll take you next."
"Thank you, I may go some other time. Now, we're discussing the case.Sit down, and tell us what you think, Mr Pollard."
"My opinion is no secret. I incline to some earlier acquaintance of MrGleason's. Perhaps some one from his Western home, or from anywhere.I've heard all the evidence that has been brought forward about anyone of his New York acquaintances, and I must admit there's not ashred of it worth considering. Indeed, there's practically noevidence--do you know of any, Barry?"
"Only the fur collar," said Barry, with a decided nod of his head. "Ithink, as that is the only piece of real, tangible evidence, it oughtto be run to earth. I believe Prescott tried to do so, but his effortfell through, somehow. At any rate, I'm going to take up that clew,and see if I can't get a line on the truth."
"All rubbish," Louis growled. "Tell him not to do it, Pollard."
"Why should I do that?" Pollard asked. "If Barry's sleuthing leads toanything, I'll be glad of it. Like Mrs Lindsay, I want to know who didthis thing. I don't have much faith in the fur collar sign-board,myself, for I think the thing was left there by some little girlcaller, who had no connection whatever with the crime."
"Maybe," Barry acquiesced. "But in that case, I'll do no harm. Ipromise not to bother the little girl--why do we all assume her to belittle--if she knows nothing of interest to us."
"How are you going about your task?" Louis asked. He was still annoyedabout it. His bent brows and frowning face showed a special interestand a dislike of Barry's plans. He moved uneasily in his chair,suddenly sitting bolt upright, and then falling back in carelessrelaxation.
"Do sit still, Louis," said Phyllis; "you make me quitenervous--acting like that. I wish you'd go out for a walk. You sitmewed up here, brooding, until you're in a perfect state of feverishexcitement. Run out, dear; go for a brisk walk. The air is fine andbracing."
Phyllis looked anxiously after her brother.
He returned her gaze, seemed touched by her concern for him, andfinally rose and followed her advice.
"I've always had the care of him," Phyllis said, as she looked fondlyafter him. "He's a darling, but he has moods. And the best thing forhim is to get away from this eternal discussion of the 'case.'"
"Perhaps you'd like to get away, too," said Millicent, tartly. "Idon't think you show any sympathy for me, Phyllis, in my trouble. But,why should you? You've got your inheritance and you're rid of atroublesome suitor----"
"Don't talk like that, Millicent," Phyllis begged, tears in her eyes."Indeed, I do sympathize with you, and I'm ready and willing to doanything I can to help you."
"All right, then, turn your mind to thinking about who caused Robert'sdeath. You're a bright girl, you have a really clever mind. Why can'tyou ferret out the truth as well as a man? As I've been saying, Idon't think the police detectives get anywhere. I think friends knowmuch more about the possibilities and probabilities----"
"We do," Barry agreed. "And to prove it, I'm going to start on mysearch at once. I'm going down to the Gleason apartment, I'm going toget that fur and take it with me, and I'll bet I'll find somebody inthe house, some busybody or curious woman who has seen a girl therewith that fur on. We all know Mr Gleason had friends among the youngermembers of the theatrical profession. There's no use blinking thatfact, and I propose to find out something, at any rate."
"Well, go on, then," urged Millicent, impatiently; "don't sit thereand talk about it! Start off, now."
"I go!" and with a smiling good-by, Barry departed.
"He won't do a thing," Pollard said, with an indulgent smile. "He's ona wild goose chase. I'd like to help you, Mrs Lindsay, but I confess Idon't take any stock in the girls. Now, have you any old letters orpapers
of your brother's that you can look over. I feel that in thoseyou might find a past acquaintance or some old quarrel or altercationthat might show you a way to look. This is only a theory, but it's asplausible as any other I've heard put forth."
"It is, Mr Pollard," Millicent agreed. "I've none of Robert's papershere--they're all at his rooms still. And I suppose Mr Lane has chargeof them. But I can get them, and I shall do just as you've advised. Ofcourse, there may be something divulged that way, but I doubt if mybrother had an enemy out West. He was a much-liked man----"
"I know that," Phyllis interrupted, "but you must admit, Millicent,that even well-liked men may have enemies. There's lots about a man'sprivate life that would contradict the general impression of him."
"That's you all over, Phyllis! You never lose a chance to cast a sluron my brother's memory. I should think you would have a littlegratitude to the man who left you a fortune."
"I have, Millicent. And you must not misconstrue my words as you do. Iam anxious, too, to find your brother's murderer. And if, as MrPollard suggests, it may be some Western acquaintance, we must try tofind him. And Mr Gleason's private letters and papers may revealmuch."
"Yes, I suppose so. Now, with Phil Barry after the chorus girl, and MrPollard's suggestions of hunting among the letters, we, at least havesomething to do. I shall send word to Mr Lane at once that I want allthe papers from Robert's desk."
She went away to telephone, leaving Phyllis and Manning Pollard alone.
"It's a mere chance," said Pollard, thoughtfully; "it may well be thatMr Gleason would destroy any letters that are indicative of the sortof thing we're looking for."
"I don't think so," the girl returned. "I imagine Mr Gleason wouldhave kept such papers. You see, I knew the man better than you did.You hardly knew him at all, did you?"
"No; I never met him more than two or three times, and that in themost formal way."
"Yet you threatened to kill him!"
"Don't put it that way, Miss Lindsay--please. My idle words have beenrepeated till I'm tired of hearing them! I did say I disliked theman--and I did. That's all there was about it."
"I disliked him, too," said Phyllis, slowly. "I always had a nervousdread of him. I don't know why, but he always affected meunpleasantly, even when he was most kind."
"Then you know what I mean. That unreasonable, inexplicabledetestation of his presence. So, of course, when the man was killed,they assumed it was my work. I left it to them to find out where I wasat the time for I knew that would be a surer proof of my innocencethan if I vehemently denied guilt and tried to prove an alibi. Butyou, too, I'm told, refuse to say where you were at the time of thecrime."
"Yes," Phyllis whispered. "Don't ask me. I don't want to tell. I havegood reasons for my silence, truly."
"And not connected with Mr Gleason's death."
Pollard did not voice this as a question, but merely as a statement offact, and Phyllis gave him a glance of gratitude for his faith in her.
But she did not corroborate his assertion and his inquiring glancethat followed met with no definite response.
"Now is there anything I can do?" Pollard asked, after a more or lessdesultory chat. "I'm at your command----"
"I thought you were a very busy man," and Phyllis smiled at him.
"Not when I can be of any assistance to you or Mrs Lindsay. Though nowthat you have come into a great fortune, perhaps an humble pen-pusherwill cease to interest you."
"No," said Phyllis, seriously; "on the contrary, I shall have moreneed than ever of friends who can advise me in certain ways."
"Surely your lawyer will do that. Lane is a most capable legaladviser----"
"I don't mean that. I mean in other ways--things on which I wouldn'tdream of discussing with Mr Lane. Oh, I have awful troubles----"
"I'm so sorry." Pollard's serious, kindly manner carried conviction."I'd be glad to help you, but in important matters you'd betterconsult some one of sound judgment and special knowledge. If you don'tcare to confide in Lane, ask him for the type of adviser you do need."
"But, Mr Pollard," the girl hesitated, "it isn't a question of specialknowledge at all. I just want advice from some man of the world--a manof our set, of our interests. Somebody who knows what to do in acrisis----"
"Please, Miss Phyllis--don't talk like that! If you do, I shall betempted to offer my own services, and I'm sure there are many betterfitted for the position."
"Oh, I wish you would help me----"
"Why not go to Barry?"
"Phil Barry? He's a dear, and a good friend to me, but he has what isknown as the artistic temperament--and you know what that means.No--the weight on my mind--the awful quandary I'm in, couldn't behelped by him. He's the last man to help me. Oh, Mr Pollard--Ioughtn't to ask you--in fact, I oughtn't to tell anybody--but I feelso helpless. Perhaps Mr Lane would be the best one after all. I don'tknow what I ought to do!"
Pollard looked at the lovely face, so full of grief and uncertainty.He wondered what it could be about. Was it the exaggerated fear of ayoung girl, that had little or no real foundation. Or--could it bepossible that she had some knowledge, guilty or evidential, of theGleason affair.
After a pause the man spoke.
"Miss Phyllis," he said, with a gentle courtesy, "I want to help you,more than I can tell you--more than I ought to tell you. But I'm notgoing to take advantage of what may be merely a mood of confidence.You think things over; you consider your other friends--or legaladvisers--and after careful thought, if you want to make me yourconfidant, I shall be honored, and I will advise you to the best of mypowers. But don't be hasty. Think it over well, and--may I see youto-morrow?"
"How kind you are!" the girl held out her hand with a pretty impulsivegesture. "That's just what I want; to think it over a little anddecide whether I want to tell Mr Lane,--or whether I'd rather confidein a--a friend."
"Of course you do," was the hearty response. "And Lane, who has wideknowledge, is also a good friend. Consider carefully, and decideslowly. But depend on me to the last ditch, if I can be of help."
Meantime Philip Barry was on his quest.
He had decided on straightforward measures, and, gaining an accuratedescription of the fur piece, had gone directly to the home of IvyHayes, whose picture, he knew, graced the Gleason apartment.
He found the young lady and obtained an interview without difficulty.
"Well?" she said, as she appeared before him.
He saw a slim young thing, who might have been any one of thousands ofyoung girls one meets everywhere, in the street or on the streetcars.
Muffs of dark hair over her ears; hand-painted cheeks and lips; saucy,powdered nose, and a slender shape encased in a one-piece frock, bothscant and short.
"Miss Hayes?" said Barry, bowing politely.
"The same. And you are----?"
"Philip Barry."
"Oh, are you? Hello, Phil, what's the big idea."
"Only to learn if you lost your fur collar?"
"H'm. My sable one--or my chinchilla?"
"Neither," Barry couldn't help smiling at the impertinent face; "yourgray squirrel."
"Oh, that one. Now, s'pose I say no?"
"Then you're out one piece of fur."
"And s'pose I say yes?"
"Then you get your fur back, but you'll be asked a few questions."
"Guess it's worth it. Where's the pelt?"
"The police have it."
"Lordy!" Ivy dropped into a chair and pretended to faint. "Now howdoes that come about?" she asked, cocking one eye up at her caller.
"Oh, I fancy you know."
"Come on--let's put all the cards on the table. You don't think I hadanything to do with the--the fatal deed, do you?"
"What fatal deed?"
"Don't be silly. I told you to be frank. Old Gleason's murder, to besure."
"You left your fur there?"
"Yep, I did."
"The day of the murder?"
"Sure. I was there that af
ternoon."
"You admit this!"
"Why not? It'd be found out anyway, and, as I didn't have anything todo with the shooting, I don't see why I don't get my fur back. It's anawful nice little collar."
"You'll get it back, Miss Hayes; and now, instead of waiting for apolice detective to interview you, suppose you tell me all you knowabout the matter."
"I don't know much, but what I have is yours. I went round there, thatafternoon, on--an errand."
"What was the errand? You may as well tell as to have me drag it outof you."
"That's so. Well, our old gentleman friend said he'd give a party forme and a few friends. Oh, a nice, proper supper party--after thetheater some night. I'm in the chorus now. Used to be in the movies.Anyway, he promised and promised, and never set the time. So Itelephoned and telephoned and I couldn't get him to make a date, so Ijust went round there to try and persuade him."
"Did you see him?"
"Sure I did."
"Did he make the date?"
"No; the old fourflusher! He crawled out of it, and said if I'd lethim off he'd give me a nice present. Said he'd take me to any jewelryshop I chose, to pick it out. Said he'd take me the next day. Now, youdon't suppose I'd croak a guy that was about to give me a bracelet, doyou?"
"I do not. And you were so excited you came away and left your furthere?"
"Just that! I wasn't sure I did leave it there, for I was at two orthree other places that day. When do I get the squirly?"
"Oh, in a few days, I should say. I'll take your yarn to headquarters,and they'll do the rest. But, I say, when you came away from there, MrGleason was alive and well?"
"You bet he was! He fairly shooed me out--he was in a hurry to getready to go to a party or something. Oh, my gracious!"
"What's that exclamation for?"
"Nothin'. A pin stuck into me."
Barry knew better. A sudden thought had come to the girl, a thoughtthat filled her with dismay for some reason. But Philip Barry felt thematter was getting too serious for him, and he decided to put it inthe hands of the police.
He went straight back to the Lindsays'.
"Come in, Mr Barry," was the first greeting he heard, as he enteredthe library, where several people were sitting in conclave. "You'rejust the man we want!"
The speaker was Prescott, the detective, and he held an open letter inhis hand.
"We've nailed you," he said to Barry. "No use your saying much. Thisletter speaks for itself."
Mechanically, Barry took the paper the detective handed to him.
It was a letter, typewritten, on club paper. In ran thus:
Mr Robert Gleason: Sir:
There is small necessity of words between us. Unless you see fit to cease your attentions to a lady of our mutual acquaintance, I shall take matters into my own hands and shall so arrange things that it will be impossible for you to annoy her further.
Philip Barry.
The signature, pen signed, was undoubtedly Barry's own, and the datewas the day before the murder.