XII
"SPARE NOBODY! I SAY, SPARE NOBODY!"
On his way home Mr. Gryce stopped at the Calderon to inquire how Mrs.Taylor was doing, and what his prospects were for a limited interviewwith her.
He was told that no such interview could be considered for days--that shestill lay in a stupor, with brief flashes of acute consciousness, duringwhich she would scream "No! no!"--that brain fever was feared and thatincreased excitement might be fatal.
Another bar to progress! He had hoped to help her memory into supplyinghim with a fact which would greatly simplify a task whose anomaliessecretly alarmed him. She had been in a fair state of mind before hernerve was attacked by the event which robbed the little Angeline of lifeand herself of reason, and if carefully approached, might possibly recallsome of the impressions made upon her previous to that moment. If, forinstance, she could describe even in a general way the appearance of anyperson she may have seen advancing in the direction of the northerngallery at the moment she herself turned to enter the southern one, whata stability it would give to his theory, and what certainty to his futureprocedure!
But he must wait for this, as he must wait for Angeline's story fromMadame Duclos. Meantime, a word with Sweetwater--after which, rest.
It was Mr. Gryce's custom, especially when engaged upon a case of markedimportance, to receive this, his recognized factotum, in his own home. Noprying ears, no watchful eyes, were to be feared there. He was theabsolute master of everything, even of Sweetwater, he sometimes thought.For this young fellow loved him--had reason to; and when Sweetwaterplayed the violin, as he sometimes did after one of their long talks, theaged detective came as near happiness as he ever did, now that his littlegrandchild was married and had gone with her husband to the other side ofthe world.
To-night he was not anticipating any such relaxation as this, yet toSweetwater, arriving later than he wished, he had never looked more inneed of it, as, sitting in his old and somewhat dingy library, he musedover some little object he held in his half-closed palm, with an intent,care-worn gaze which it distressed his young subordinate to see.Uncertainty incites the young and fires them to action; but it weariesthe old and saps what little strength they have; and Sweetwater detecteduncertainty in his patron's troubled brow and prolonged stare at theinsignificant article absorbing his attention.
However, Gryce roused quickly at the young detective's cheery greeting,and looking up with an answering welcome, plunged at once into business.
"So you have seen Turnbull! What did the man say?"
"That it was the left-hand upper corner of the tapestry he saw shaking,and not the right-hand one as we had blindly supposed."
"Good! Then we can take it for granted that our new theory is wellfounded. Certain things have come to light in your absence. That tapestrywas pulled aside not merely for the purpose of flinging in the bow, butto let the flinger pass through the door at its back down to theCurator's office and so out into the court."
"Whew! And who...."
"If this fact had been made known to me sooner, you would have had adifferent day's work; not getting it until late this afternoon, we haveperhaps wasted some valuable hours. But we won't fret about that. Mrs.Taylor being no better, we are likely to have all the time we want forsubstantiating my idea. It cannot take long if we succeed either intracing the Duclos woman or in drawing the net I am quietlymanufacturing, so closely about--well, I've decided to call him X--thatit will hold against all opposition. I have hopes of finding the woman,but great doubts as to the efficacy of the net I have mentioned; it willhave to be so wide and deep, and so absolutely without a single weakstrand."
Sweetwater sat astonished, and what was more, silent--he who had a wordfor everything. Accustomed as he was to the varying moods of hisremarkable friend, he had never before been met with a reticence soabsolute. It made him think; but for once in his life did not make himloquacious.
Mr. Gryce seemed to be gratified by this, though he made no remark tothat effect and continued to preserve his abstracted look and quietdemeanor. So Sweetwater waited, and while waiting managed to steal aglimpse at the small object to which his professional friend still paidhis undivided attention.
It looked like a narrow bit of dingy black cloth--just that and nothingmore--a thing as trivial as the band which clips a closed umbrella. Wasit such a band, and would he presently be asked to find the umbrella fromwhich it had fallen or been twisted away? No. Umbrellas are not carriedabout museum buildings. Besides, this strip of cloth had no ring on theend of it. Consequently it could not have served the purpose he had justascribed to it. It must have had some other use.
But when, after an impatient flinging aside of this nondescript article,Mr. Gryce spoke, it was to say:
"I had a long talk with Correy to-day. It seems that he goes through bothgalleries every morning before the museum opens. Though he will not swearto it, he is of the opinion that the quiver holding the Apache arrows hadits full complement when he passed it that morning. He has a way ofrunning things over with his eye which has never yet failed to draw hisattention to anything defective or in the least out of order."
"I see, sir," acquiesced Sweetwater in an odd tone, Mr. Gryce's attitudeshowing that he awaited some expression of interest on his part.
The elder detective either did not notice the curious note in the youngerone's voice, or noticing it, chose to ignore it, for with no change ofmanner he proceeded to say:
"I wish you would exercise your wits, Sweetwater, on the followingtroublesome question: if the arrow which slew this young girl was in onegallery at ten o'clock, how did it get into the other at twelve? Thebow"--here he purposely hesitated--"might have been brought up the ironstaircase. But the arrow----"
His eyes were on Sweetwater (a direct glance was a rare thing with Mr.Gryce), and he waited--waited patiently for the word which did not come;then he remarked dryly:
"We are both dull; you are tired with your day's work and I with mine:we will let difficult questions rest until our brains are clearer.But"--here he reached for the strip of dingy cloth he had cast aside, andtossing it over to Sweetwater, added with some suggestion of humor,--"ifyou want a subject to dream upon to-night, there it is. If you have nodesire to dream, and want work for to-morrow, make an effort to discoverfrom whose clothing that fell and what was its use. It was picked up inRoom B on the second floor, the one where Mrs. Taylor was detained beforegoing downstairs."
"Ah, something tangible at last!"
"I don't know about that; I honestly don't know. But we cannot afford tolet anything go by us. Little things like that have not infrequentlyopened up a fresh trail which otherwise might have been missed."
Sweetwater nodded, and laying the little strip along his palm, examinedit closely. It was made of silk, doubled, and stitched together except atthe ends. These were loose, but rough with bits of severed thread, as ifthe thing had been hastily cut from some article of clothing to which ithad been attached by some half-dozen very clumsy stitches.
"I think I understand you, Mr. Gryce," observed Sweetwater, rising slowlyto his feet. "But a dream may help me out; we will see."
"I shall not leave here till ten to-morrow morning."
"Very good, sir. If you don't mind, I'll take this with me."
"Take it, by all means."
As Sweetwater turned to go, he was induced by the silence of his patronto cast a backward glance. Mr. Gryce had risen to his feet and wasleaning toward him with an evident desire to speak.
"My boy," said he, "if your dreams lead you to undertake the search Ihave mentioned, spare nobody; I say, spare _nobody_."
Then he sat down; and the memory which Sweetwater carried away with himof the old detective at the moment he uttered this final injunction wasfar from being a cheerful one.