On leaving the Appleton house, Gaunt's car sped swiftly to the Blenheim, where Mrs. Finlay Appleton had taken up her abode.
"Have you any news for me, Mr. Gaunt?" she inquired anxiously, when he was admitted to her presence. "This strain is terrible. I would welcome almost any news, if it was news."
"We have succeeded in eliminating a number of irrelevant facts, Mrs. Appleton; but you must be patient. There is much work ahead for us, until we can see clearly to the end. I have come to ask if I may have a few moments' interview with your maid, Marie."
"With my maid?" Mrs. Appleton's tone was loftily amazed. "I cannot see what evidence my maid would be able to give, Mr. Gaunt, aside from the chatter of the servants' hall--idle gossip of which there has been far too much already."
Mr. Gaunt smiled deprecatingly, and said in the tone he could so well assume on occasion:
"Well, we must leave no stone unturned, you know, and there is often much that goes on in a household of which sharp-eyed servants are cognizant, when the mistress is not." Mrs. Appleton cleared her throat in a manner which indicated that, although this might be the case in some households, it was not true of one over which she ruled; but the detective's next question changed her thoughts suddenly into a new and alarming channel.
"Mrs. Appleton, I do not like to distress you by a reference to the painful scene of yesterday morning, but believe me, it is necessary. When you rushed down-stairs in response to the screams of your housemaid, and discovered the body of your eldest son, Mr. Yates Appleton, I understand, was not present. When he appeared in the doorway, you turned and spoke to him. Do you remember what you said?"
"H-m!" the elderly lady hesitated. Then she replied in obvious haste: "No, Mr. Gaunt, I do not. I do not even remember I noticed him there. At any rate, what does it matter? What could it matter what a woman said at such a time?"
"It matters a great deal," the detective replied, quietly. "It was most significant."
"I do not remember what it was," Mrs. Appleton reiterated, quickly. "It could not have been significant, for it was said unconsciously. ' I was beside myself."
"You called your son, 'Cain!' That, Mrs. Appleton, is the name of the oldest fratricide on record. You are a woman, if you will pardon me, of very superior mentality. You say, or do, nothing without reason. When you branded your son with that name, you considered him the murderer of his brother."
"Ah, no, no, Mr. Gaunt! You exceed the power I myself have vested in you, in this case. The application was not a literal one, but a reproach for the words my son had uttered to his elder brother in a late quarrel. I see that I must tell you, in order to avert a terrible mistake on your part. My sons were the most loving of brothers." The detective's face was a study. "But Garret was the more prudent of the two; Yates the spendthrift. They were both of violent temper, and their frequent quarrels would have sounded quite fearful to those who did not know that they meant not a word of it, and that the whole matter would be forgotten in an hour or two.
"Their quarrels, of course, were only about money. During a recent one--very recent--Yates told Garret he wished he was dead. It was in reference to that, if anything, that I used the word 'Cain,' if I did so. I don't remember it, as I say; but I do know that the memory of that quarrel returned to me, when I turned from my dead to my living son. Had such a preposterous suspicion as that which you surmise entered my head, do you not think that I would have shielded my son all that I possibly could from the consequences of his act--if not for his own sake, at least, to save the family name from disgrace? Yet, I sent at once for the police, and for the highest authority on the detection of crime in this country--for you, Mr. Gaunt."
He accepted the compliment gravely, and said:
"Will you tell me then, Mrs. Appleton, why, after having retained me to discover the truth for you, you were not entirely frank with me?"
She half-rose from the chair.
"My dear Mr. Gaunt--" she began indignantly.
But he silenced her.
"You told me that the whole suit between your two sons was a test case, an entirely amicable affair; yet Mr. Yates Appleton has told me it was not so. He has admitted, to use his own words: 'That there was bad blood between him and his elder brother.'"
The lady bit her lip, and then said, more vehemently than she had spoken;
"But can you not see, Mr. Gaunt, I knew that the differences between my sons were absolutely irrelevant to this case, as I informed you during our first interview? I do not see any further need of talk and raking up of scandal."
"That is all, Mrs. Appleton. May I see your maid now?"
"Yes. If you will step into my dressing-room you will find her--the door there, just at the right of your chair."
With a bow, he entered the next room, closing the door gently, but decisively, behind him, and heard the rattle of spools and scissors, as the maid rose hastily at his unexpected entrance.
"M'sieur Gaunt!"
"Marie, I want a word with you. To whom did you telephone the news of the murder, immediately after it was discovered, this morning?"
"I answer to no one. Why should anyone think that I--"
"You were overheard telephoning the news of the death of Mr. Garret Appleton to some one. Who was it?"
"If m'sieu does not jest, someone has been telling him an untruth. I have telephone' to no one."
"I suppose you know, Marie, that the Central Exchange can be compelled on a court order to give the number which you called on the 'phone at that hour. Of course, if you wish me to carry the matter to Mrs. Appleton, or Judge Carhart--"
"Ah, in that case," the maid interrupted, with superb insolence, "if m'sieu knows the number I called, why does he question me?"
"You called Miss Carhart, to warn her in advance of the death--of the murder--of Mr. Garret Appleton. You thought she would wish to know privately before the news reached her house. Why did you think she would wish to know?"
"Well, Mademoiselle Carhart is very young and a great friend of the family. She had dined there only the night before, and I thought that the shock--"
"No, Marie, I want the truth. You are in Mrs. Appleton's employ, not Miss Carhart's. Why should you telephone this news to her privately?"
The maid shrugged her shoulders with a gesture of surrender.
"M'sieur if you must know, there had been a leetle affaire--how do you say?--a flirtation. Oh, of an innocence absolutely, between M'mselle Carhart and M'sieu Appleton. M'sieu had coni idea in me. I had carried a note--a leetle lettair, once or twice; but it was nothing--nothing to which anyone could object. But I--I imagine that mademoiselle had become so greatly interested in m'sieu that, if the sudden news of his death came to her in the presence of her father, she might-- might perhaps give herself away. I like the young mademoiselle, so jolie, so ingenious, and I am romantic--me."
"And you were well paid, I suppose, for carrying these notes, eh?"
"But yes." The maid's tone suggested surprise at the superfluous question. "Both M'sieu Appleton and Mademoiselle Carhart were most generous;."
"And that was all; just that Mr. Garret Appleton permitted you to know of-- his flirtation? And you carried notes once or twice. You saw nothing at any time, in the Appleton home, or elsewhere, between these two; no confidential meetings-- in the den, say, or elsewhere?"
"Oh, but yes, m'sieur I have eyes. Once or twice, when there was a large reception, or dinner, or dance, on at the house of M'sieu Appleton, they would slip away for a little talk of but a minute or two in the hall, or library, or--or den."
"Marie, did you see them in the den on the night of the murder?"
"The evening before, after dinner, M'sieu means? It is possible. After Madame Appleton--Madame Garret Appleton--had retired, I passed along the hall from the staircase leading from the servant's dining-room up to Madame Appleton's, my mistress's, to prepare her things for the night. I pass the door of the den, and I see then M'sieu Appleton and a lady. I did not turn and look in, I glanc' with the corner of my eye, and I could not see who the lady was, but I think it was Mademoiselle Carhart."
"Very well, Marie. That was all I wanted of you. Only, if Inspector Hanrahan comes to you, do not lie to him. You might find yourself in serious trouble."
As the maid turned, with a sigh of relief, to show him to the door, he stopped.=
"Why do you sew without a thimble?" he asked, with the whimsical smile that always accompanied his sudden, irrelevant questions. "You are proud of your hands, yet you permit the middle finger to become all roughened and abrased, from the needlehead."
"I cannot sew wiz ze theemble. Eet ees what you call--l'eccentricitee, pairhaps? But how, m'sieu--"
"I heard the rough skin of your finger rasp against your starched apron, as you turned, just now. And I knew you were proud of your hands, because you keep your nails so unusually long and pointed."
With a little cry of dismay, the woman thrust both her hands behind her.
"If m'sieu will pardon--but when did m'sieu discover zat?"
"Yesterday, when you came to the library of the Appleton house, at the time I sent for you for an interview, and you tapped upon the door before entering.... I must go now. Remember what I have told you. Speak the truth to Inspector Hanrahan when he comes, or you may have cause for regret."
He took leave of Mrs. Appleton, and, with the aid of a bell-boy, made his way to his car. There was one errand yet before him, and one which he anticipated with reluctance, persuaded as he was in his own mind that the affair between Garret Appleton and the Judge's daughter had been innocent of what the world regards as the one unpardonable wrong, in whatever despicable light it might be considered otherwise. He felt he must get at the truth of the matter, and that from the girl herself.
On arrival at the Carharts', he was shown to the drawing-room, and she came to him almost immediately. Her uneasiness at his visit was plainly evidenced in her voice, as she greeted him.
"Miss Carhart," he said very gravely, "did you acquaint your father at once, yesterday morning, of the death of Mr. Garret Appleton?"
"My father?" she faltered. "Why, it was he who told me. The news was brought to him."
The detective shook his head.
"I mean, when Marie, Mrs. Appleton's maid, telephoned you."
"Telephoned me? Marie telephoned me?" Her voice was scarcely above a whisper, and it seemed as if she could do no more than echo his words.
"Miss Carhart," he went on, "whatever you say to me, if you are perfectly frank, will be strictly confidential; but if you do not disclose the whole truth, I may be compelled to carry the matter to your father. I must know the exact relations which existed between you and Garret Appleton."
The girl rose to her feet indignantly.
"How dare you!" she cried. "What do you mean to insinuate? My father would be the first to order you from this house, if you dared to approach him with any story which reflected upon my reputation."
"Nevertheless," he went on doggedly, "I know. and can prove, that an affair of some sort existed between you and the man whose death I am investigating. I know that Marie, his mother's maid, frequently carried messages from him to you; that she knew, and admits the knowledge, of an affair between you, and that she will so testify, if necessary, and that she telephoned you privately of his death, in order that you might not betray your shock to your father, when the news reached you officially."
The girl, who had seated herself, clasped and unclasped the arms of her chair nervously, and beat a little angry tattoo with her foot upon the floor.
"If you must know, Mr. Gaunt," she said at last, with a little, quick intake of breath, "I did have a sort of flirtation with Garret Appleton; but It was an entirely innocent affair, the same sort of thing that goes on every day in society. We had been engaged at one time, and it was only natural that I should want to--to pique his wife, and punish him for his defection. I hadn't married, because I never found any one whom I--liked, as I had liked Garret, and I did not think he should have married, either. I knew that he and his wife weren't happy, weren't getting along together, and I flirted with him a little, deliberately; but I never saw him alone, nor was indiscreet in any possible way. Don't you understand,. Mr. Gaunt? It was only to punish him."
"You did see him alone. Marie has come upon you often in his own house, talking very confidentially."
"But that was only when an affair was on at his house, at which all our set were present. He might have talked as frequently, and said the same things, to any other young girl of his mother's or wife's acquaintance."
"When was the last time you saw him alone, Miss Carhart?"
"Really, I--I don't remember."
"Was it the night before his death, Miss Carhart?"
"Oh, naturally, if you call that seeing him alone. After his wife had retired, we stayed in the library, talking, where my father and Mrs. Finlay Appleton were playing cards, and then--yes, we did drift into the music-room, which opens from the library, and I played a little, I think."
"And that was all? You did not enter the den, Miss Carhart?"
"No, Mr. Gaunt."
The detective rose.
"Miss Carhart, you will recall what I said to you at the commencement of this interview? If you are not absolutely frank with me, I must go to your father. Will you tell me if he is at home?"
"I don't know what you mean! I am absolutely frank with you."
"You were in the den alone with Mr. Appleton, the night before his death. You were seen there."
"I--was seen there?"
"I will be more frank than you have been. After Mrs. Garret Appleton had retired, Marie passed along the hall before the half-open door of the den, and saw you there with Mr. Appleton."
There was a pause, and then the girl said, with a little break in her voice:
"I see there is no use attempting to withhold anything from you, Mr. Gaunt. I only attempted to do so because I wanted you to be sure in your own mind of the truth--that my flirtation with Mr. Appleton was only that, and nothing more. I was in the den with Mr. Appleton. He took me in there ostensibly to show me some new curios he had recently purchased, but he really wanted to talk to me alone. You see, he had taken our little flirtation more seriously than I.
"My father had planned to take me abroad next week for the winter, and he was quite broken up about it. I was really sorry that I had ever started to play this rather cruel little--joke on him when I realized now how badly he felt, and I was a little frightened, too; so I cut our conversation short, and returned to the library, where my father was. That is all, Mr. Gaunt--really, really all! And now that this--this terrible thing has come, I feel so differently about it all--so deeply sorry that I have caused Mrs. Garret Appleton any pain--so sorry that I--I played with fire!"
"I am glad that you have been frank with me, Miss Carhart. I believe that you have been; but I must know a little more. In that interview with him in the den, did Mr. Appleton make any violent demonstration of affection toward you, any suggestions or proposals for the future?"
"No, not exactly," the girl returned, hesitatingly. "He was very much wrought-up and excited, and didn't seem to be quite--quite himself. He said that he could not bear the thought of my departure for Europe--of my being where he could not see me sometimes; and, when he saw how aghast I was that things had drifted so far between us in his estimation, he accused me of flirting with him, of wilfully leading him on, which was just-- just what I had been doing, Mr. Gaunt, only I--it sounded so awful, put into words.
"I was very indignant, and told him so. I--I reminded him of the respect due to the woman up-stairs. Oh, I said all the hypocritical things that a girl usually says when she had been playing with a man, and gets found out, and then I cut out the conversation short, and went back to the library."
"And he came with you?"
"Yes; but he was sullen, and in an injured mood, of course, although he quelled it before my father. Nevertheless, I felt uncomfortable, and I was glad when the time came for us to go home."
"And you heard nothing further?"
"Nothing until Marie called me up, and told me of--of his death."
"Miss Carhart, did you know of any enemies-- any active enemies--whom Mr. Appleton may have had? Did he ever tell you of any difficulty he was in, or trouble?"
"No; he only spoke, in a general way, of his unhappiness at home--the sort of thing a married man always says when he wants sympathy--that he isn't understood."
"That is all, Miss Carhart. I won't trouble you any longer."
He turned toward the door; but she laid a small, detaining hand on his arm..
"I know that you think I am horrid, Mr. Gaunt; that I don't deserve any--respect, or anything. But it was only a petty malicious impulse--my flirting with him, I mean, and I yielded to it. If you could know how sorry I am!"
The detective smiled a little.
"We all do things which we are sorry for, at one time, or another, Miss Carhart, and it is past. You may be sure that your confidence will be respected. Good-afternoon."
His thoughts on the way home were far from satisfied ones. If Yates Appleton was not guilty of his brother's death, his investigation seemed to have made little or no headway. He had, to be sure, cleared up a number of false clues; but they had been fairly obvious from the start, and he seemed to be working in circles, wasting valuable time, and getting no nearer the real truth. Could it be that another line of investigation lay open to him, which he had almost wilfully overlooked for the multiplicity of clues that lay more readily within reach? Had he, because of his blindness, missed some essential detail, failed to discover some salient point, some significant finger-post, which, to his trained faculties, would have pointed unmistakably to the truth? He writhed in spirit. Why had fate endowed him with the abilities, the genius, which he possessed, and denied to him the greatest of all attributes in the life-work which he had chosen?
When Gaunt reached his rooms, he found Inspector Hanrahan impatiently pacing the floor of his library.
"Thought you would never come, Mr. Gaunt," he said. "I have been waiting for you nearly an hour. Have you come upon anything?"
"Running down a lot of false clues; clearing out the underbrush, that's about all." Gaunt could not quite keep the bitterness he felt from manifesting itself in his voice.
"Ah-ha! Well, I've come on something we've never even thought of looking into. We've taken the case up from the time of the murder, or at least the evening before. But how about the day before, Mr. Gaunt? Did it occur to you to find out how Garret Appleton spent the last day of his life?"
The detective concealed his chagrin with an effort. Could this be the line of investigation that he had overlooked, not because of his blindness, but because of a crass stupidity of reasoning which was plainly unaccountable.
"Can't say that it did, Inspector. I have been too busy following up the clues we already had."
"Well!" The Inspector settled back in a chair with immense satisfaction. "When I'd ran that Louis Lantelme business to earth, and found there was nothing in it, there didn't seem a single thing left to go on; so I thought I'd cast backward a little. In the first place--I got this from Louis-- for the last twp or three months Mr. Appleton has had something on his mind--something besides his family troubles, and all that, I mean. He kept it pretty much to himself; but his man knew it--trust a valet, or a lady's maid, to know as much about the people they work for as they know about themselves.
"As far as Louis could make out, it started with an article his master read in the newspaper about three months ago. He seemed very much excited, and did some mysterious telephoning; but the valet didn't hear the numbers, and didn't know what it was about. After Mr. Appleton had gone out, the valet looked carefully through that page of the paper which had upset his master; but he couldn't find anything in it which, to his mind, would seem to have any bearing on Mr. Appleton's affairs.
"He would have forgotten all about it, only from that minute his master seemed a changed man; to him, at least. More irritable than ever, and anxious--not as if he was afraid, but as if he was worried about to death. Once in the last month while Louis was in his employ, Mr. Appleton had gone away alone--just over night. He's always taken Louis with him before, and that was what impressed it upon the valet's mind as being unusual. Moreover, when he returned, he seemed more depressed and worried than ever."
Inspector Hanrahan paused as if for commendation; but the detective merely asked quietly:
"Anything else?"
"Not from Louis Lantelme. You know he was discharged about a month ago. But when I went at the butler with this line of questioning, I got a few more facts. I told you I thought that fellow had something up his sleeve. It seems that, about three weeks ago, Mr. Appleton received a letter with a special-delivery stamp, quite late one evening.
"There was a dinner on at the house and lots of guests there; but he excused himself and went out in his car. He didn't return until nearly six in the morning, and Dakers, whom he had told to wait up for him--and I guess from the way the fellow talked he was well paid for it--says the car was splashed from end to end with mud, as if it had had a long run, through heavy roads--although it hadn't rained in New York that night."
"Not so much in that," the detective remarked.
"The morning before his death, Mr. Appleton received another special-delivery letter. This time, Mr. Appleton went out in his car, immediately, as before; but he returned about five o'clock in the afternoon, and, from then until dinner time, Dakers was pretty busy bringing him drinks. He did not seem anxious or worried then, but madder than the deuce.
"We couldn't get a thing out of Mr. Appleton's chauffeur, at first. He and Mr. Yates each had their own, you know, and Mr. Garret's is a stolid German, and I suspect was paid to keep his mouth shut. But, after we had been at him for awhile, he said he had driven Mr. Appleton, on the day before his death, to a road-house away up on the Boston Post Road, where he's had his own lunch, and waited for three hours for his employer. Then he brought him straight home.
"I got the name of the road-house from him. It's The Rocky Point Inn, and I'm going up there for dinner tonight, and find out what Garret Appleton did during those three hours and whom he met, and then I am going to trace them, if I can.
"As to the time before, when they went on that all-night trip, they went over to Jersey, by way of Staten Island and Perth Amboy Ferry, to a farmhouse half-way between Metuchen and New Brunswick. I have got two men out there now, with the chauffeur to show them the house, and see what we get out of that."
"What do you think, yourself. Inspector? Got a theory?"
"I think they're the most confoundedly mysterious bunch I ever came in contact with. Mr. Garret Appleton was in some secret mix-up of his own, as sure as you are alive--nothing criminal, or anything of that sort, I think; but something he didn't take his family into his affairs about. They were a swift couple, those two brothers, from all I have been able to gather. They've kept the family in hot water and themselves just out of scare-heads in the newspapers since their college days; but I think I'm on the trail of something at last."
"You have done a lot. Inspector; but I don't quite see where it comes in connection with the murder. Do you?"
"No," Inspector Hanrahan admitted. "I don't quite see that yet myself; but it may come out later. Anyway, it's worth sifting to the bottom. We've not got any other clue to go on."
"Of course," Gaunt said musingly, as if to himself, "if any outsider, who has not come into the case as yet, committed the murder, he must have had an ally in the house to let him in, in the first place, and then attempt to conceal traces of the crime afterward, and that hardly seems feasible, since no one seems to have known of this private matter except Garret Appleton, himself."
"How about that butler, Dakers? I've had my eye on him from the first. I cannot help feeling, somehow, that he holds the key to the whole thing."
The Inspector had risen, and Gaunt rose with him.
"Inspector, it's well that you've no stealthy criminal to trail tonight--a criminal with trained ears and a sense of humor/' the detective remarked jestingly. "If you had, your task would be hopeless from the start."
"Why?" The Inspector reddened, and shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. "I don't get you, Mr. Gaunt."
"Your boots, man! I could hear you coming three hundred yards away. You've taken to wearing that soft goat's-skin, again, machine sewn, and you creak like a windlass!" He clapped the discomfited official on the back in friendly fashion, and added: "Well, let me know if you get anything, and, if I learn anything, definitely, you'll hear from me. Turn about is only fair play, and we seem to be working together on this thing."
"Yes, sir. I've not forgotten the pointer you gave me last night--to watch that butler. To be sure," he added hastily, "I have suspected him all along, as I've said, of knowing something; but it sort of confirmed it, when I found he'd impressed you the same way. You'll hear from me in the morning, sir."
After he had departed. Gaunt dined hastily, and then spent the intervening time before the anticipated arrival of Randolph Force at the telephone. His several short conversations seemed to bring him no satisfaction, however, and he turned from his own thoughts with a distinct feeling of relief, when his visitor was announced.
Randolph Force's step was firm and steady, his handclasp warm and vigorous, his voice low and rich. He brought in with him a breath of the cool, clean outdoors and a faint odor of good tobacco. Gaunt felt instinctively drawn to this man, who was the affianced husband of the woman who had so deeply impressed him.
He seemed, even in the first few moments of their meeting, to be a fit mate for her, strong and controlled and ringing true.
"Mr. Gaunt? Miss Ellerslie told me you wished to see me. If I can be of any assistance--"
"Sit down, Mr. Force. I wanted some information, in a general way, concerning the Appleton family--the men of the family, in particular--from one who had known them well, yet who was not one of their intimate associates. I thought that you would be able to give it to me."
The other man laughed pleasantly.
"I've known them always--the two boys, I mean. What makes you think I am not an associate of theirs?"
"Because Miss Ellerslie tells me that she is engaged to you. She would not be likely, I think, to choose her future husband from among the confreres of her brother-in-law."
There was a moment's pause, and then the young man said gravely:
"I see your point, Mr. Gaunt. As a matter-of-fact, although my family and the Appletons have been closely allied socially for three generations, I've never gone around very much with Garret and Yates. Our interests--let us say, our ideas of amusement--differ."
"Can you tell me--confidentially, of course-- something of the two men, Mr. Force--something of their characters and pursuits?"
"That's rather a difficult proposition. A man doesn't like to discuss other men, from a personal standpoint. Yates is rather an ass, I should say. No real downright harm in him; but he goes the pace, and his friends make a fool of him, generally. With Garret--hang it all! one shouldn't speak ill of the dead--but the same tendencies Yates manifests had sunk in deeper in him, if you know what I mean--the tendency to consider vices a form of modern sport. With Yates, it is merely foolish weakness; with Garret, it had become sheer evilness. Yates drinks with his crowd; Garret alone. Yates is without moral stamina; Garret was deliberately, shrewdly vicious. You understand the distinction I am endeavoring to make?"
"Perfectly. You say that your family have been closely allied to that of the Appletons, for three generations? Can you tell me something of their antecedents?"
"Their father, Finlay Appleton, was a fine old man, and a great friend of my late father's. Their grandfather, Appleton, started in life as an upstate farmer's boy, and died a multi-millionaire and power in Wall Street. Their mother was a Yates--one of the Tuxedo Yates. Her people were rich, too, but far from being as wealthy as the Appletons. Her father was a born miser, and would have done anything, gone to any lengths, to accumulate and hoard money. That is a trait which Garret Appleton had inherited to a marked degree. He, of course, entertained lavishly, and spent money with seeming extravagance; but it was only to keep up his position before the world, to gain the reputation of being a generous, but never spendthrift, millionaire.
"From his grandfather, Yates, he inherited an inordinate love of money for its own sake, and there have more than once been whispers in the Street that his operations were not entirely on the level; in fact, were perilously near the danger line. Of this, I think, his wife was in total ignorance; but then, as far as I can learn, he never took the trouble to make a companion or confidant of her."
"Being engaged to Miss Ellerslie, you must know of the conditions existing in the household of her brother-in-law. "
"Yes, Mr. Gaunt; but I prefer not to speak of them. You understand that, even to aid you in your investigation, it would be impossible for me to do so. Miss Ellerslie has told me that you are aware of the circumstances under which they lived, of the unhappiness of her sister's home life, and the hostile attitude assumed toward them by the other members of the family. Surely, that is sufficient, without going into details, which can have no bearing on the fact of Garret's death, and which really concern only the people involved? Really, it is a--a painful subject."
"I am going to be very frank with you, Mr. Force. I am going to assume that you, as a prospective member of the family, are cognizant, at least, of all the intimate, personal facts, which I, as a detective, have been able to glean in two days. I know that Mr. Appleton had transferred his affections from his wife to a young society girl, a frequent guest at his house, and that, partly in consequence of that, partly because of certain traits in his character, his behavior to his wife was brutal in the extreme. But I heard a suggestion, also, that young Mrs. Appleton herself was not without an opportunity of consoling herself, whether she availed herself of it, or not."
"What?" the young man roared, jumping to his feet. "They dared to do that! To utter a whisper against an innocent, deeply suffering woman! That was Yates, not his mother, I know. She is too jealous of the family honor, too fearful of gossip and scandal--of which she has already endured enough, through her sons-- to breathe a word against anyone who bore her name. It must have been Yates--the contemptible cur! Now I will speak, Mr. Gaunt!"
Randolph Force turned, and began pacing furiously up and down before the hearth; and Gaunt rested motionless in his chair, waiting for the other's suddenly aroused indignation to find vent in speech. At length. Force stopped abruptly, facing the detective, and his words came with a rush:
"Natalie Appleton is as true and loyal a little woman, as gentle a spirit, as ever existed. She would not utter a word of complaint, of disparagement even, under all the weight of her husband's intolerable cruelties. For he was cruel; not passionately, but systematically, fiendishly. Never mind how I know. It was not, I assure you, from her own lips. A man who was as constant a visitor at the house as I, the prospective husband of her sister, could not help but inadvertently observe much that was not meant for his eyes, hear much that was not meant for his ears, and come inevitably to know the truth.
"I did not need the gossip of the clubs and the business world--although I heard enough of it, heaven knows!--to know the sort of life she and her sister were leading. I tell you, Mr. Gaunt, if those two girls had had a single male relative living. Garret Appleton would have had a bullet in his heart long ago!"
He stopped suddenly, and, in the silence that followed, Gaunt could hear the creaking of the heavy leather chair,, as the young man flung himself back in his seat. Although the detective waited, he did not speak again, and the stillness deepened and was prolonged between them, until it seemed to hang, heavy and sentient, upon the air. At last. Gaunt himself broke the spell:
"You have known Miss Ellerslie long, Mr. Force?"
"Ever since she came North, to make her home with her sister. Although not intimate with either of the brothers, as I have said, our families were old friends, and I have been a frequent visitor, with my mother and sisters, at Mrs. Finlay Appleton's house. When Garret married, of course, I called, and admired his pretty, blonde little wife tremendously, even before I realized the strength of character that lay behind her physical frailty. Then--then I met Miss Ellerslie, and I-- well, Mr. Gaunt, I imagine you know how it is with a man!"
He paused in a sudden access of boyish confusion, which was infinitely attractive after his outburst of very real indignation and the self-repression that had followed it. But the detective did not heed the tone so much as the words themselves. He, too, had experienced the magnetism that Barbara EHerslie's mere presence bore with it, the music in the soft, drawling pulsation of her voice, the unnamable charm in the nearness of her. The mention of her by the other man had seemed to evoke her actual being; it was as if she were there in that room standing before him, before his sightless eyes. He could almost hear the sound of her light footfall, feel the brush of her skirt against his knee, the touch of her cool little hand; smell the fresh, pure fragrance of her, the perfume of her breath upon his cheek, as when she had leaned toward him in the earnestness of her disclosures of the previous day.... Oh, yes, he knew how it was with a man!
"You were--to have been married soon?" He heard his own voice quietly, steadily, breaking the silence.
"This autumn, if things had grown a little brighter for Natalie. I've had a splendid post offered me in Russia. I don't need the money, of course; but it is a wonderful opportunity in the diplomatic world. When it became evident that Barbara--that Miss Ellerslie could not leave her sister, I renounced it, of course, and now everything must be left to the future. I have hopes, though, that, when Natalie's health is restored from the effects of this frightful shock, and the long martyrdon she has endured, we three may go away together. I don't know why I am telling you this, Mr. Gaunt; but I wanted to make my own position in regard to the family plain to you."
"I quite understand. But, Mr. Force, you parried my implied question of awhile ago. Is there no one, to your knowledge or belief, whose admiration and sympathy, perhaps, for young Mrs. Appleton, may have led to deeper feeling-- on his part at least?"
He was all the detective now, cool, inscrutable, with a compelling firmness in his tones; and the other realized that the note of confidential friendliness, which for a moment had persuaded him to lower his own guard of reserve, was gone.
"There may be such a one, or more than one, as the problematical person of whom you speak, Mr. Gaunt. There may be one among the number who were welcome guests in her house, who realized her unhappiness, and recognized the beauty of her simple, childlike nature. But,, if such a person exists, rest assured that he appreciates her staunchness, her loyalty, her innate purity, and he would be a cad indeed, if he'd ever allowed any thought other than that of the most disinterested compensation and highest friendship and honor to enter his mind in connection with her."
"Thank you, Mr. Force. You have answered me. And, now, it is late, I know--I will not detain you longer. Thank you, too, for coming. When next you see Miss Ellerslie, please assure her that I shall hope soon to have good news for her."
A quick, firm handclasp, a conventional phrase or two, the soft closing of the door, and Gaunt was alone. He sat for long hours in his solitary chair before the empty hearth, musing. His thoughts could not have been altogether on the problem before him; for, now and then, a faint, almost reminiscent, smile crossed his thin, ascetic face, and once he turned his head quickly, as if at the sound of a soft footfall, or the silken rustle of a gown. And, once, he moved his slim, sensitive fingers lightly over the smooth leather arm of his chair, as if again for an instant his hand rested upon the head of a woman.
Inspector Hanrahan presented himself at Gaunt's rooms at an early hour, and it was plainly evident, in the exuberance of his handshake and his jubilant tone, that his self-satisfaction of the previous day had increased
"You're on the trail, Inspector. I can tell from your manner that you have got the scent."
"I think I have, sir--I think I have. Whatever it leads to, Louis and the butler were right. There's something mysterious been going on that Garret Appleton was concerned with, all right."
"What did you learn at the inn, last night? Had Mr. Appleton met someone up there for a conference?"
"He had not. He was too clever for that. He wasn't going to give the chauffeur anything on him, if he could help it. He reached there about half past twelve, and, after seeing that his chauffeur's wants would be attended to, instead of lunching there, he went into the bar alone, and had a drink, and then beat it out a side door, after looking carefully to see that his man had put the car up, and gone to the chauffeur's dining-room.
"An assistant bartender and one of the waiters, who was serving a party on the side porch saw him go across the fields--it's real country up there, you know--and disappear in a patch of woodland to the left. He stayed away until almost three o'clock, and, when he reappeared, there were two men with him; a short stoutish man, and a tall, younger one. That's all the description I could get of them from the waiter who saw them, because they halted at the edge of the field, talked together for a moment, and then Mr. Appleton came straight back to the inn."
"Did you investigate beyond that patch of woodland, Inspector," Gaunt asked, thoughtfully.
"Of course, I did; but it was dark, and I couldn't make out very much. After I found out all I could at the inn, I told the chauffeur of the car I hired to drive around by way of that patch of woods. He found a lane leading to it, after a little trouble and we came upon a little farmhouse, painted white, or light yellow. I went in an asked for some water for the engine, and found out that a stolid old English couple, named Crabtree, lived there quite alone, and there isn't any other house for a long distance around; but back of their place is a short cut that leads into the Boston Post Road, near Greenwich."
"Did you learn anything else at the inn?"
"Only that, wherever Mr. Appleton had been, he hadn't had any lunch, and he hadn't time to get any there. He bolted down a couple of sandwiches and another drink, while his chauffeur was bringing the car around, and they must have exceeded the speed limit going back to town, for, by the butler's testimony, he reached his own house at five or a little after."
"And the other end of the string--the men you sent down to Jersey, to the farm-house near New Brunswick? What have you heard from them?"
"Well, they ran up against a snag; but it's a significant one. A middle-aged couple lived there, a man and his wife, named Smith; but they have gone, and the house is deserted. They left about two weeks ago. They'd been living there for nearly four years. Their last year's lease had still about seven months to run, and they went unexpectedly, in a great hurry.
"My men got their information from the neighbors around. It seems this Smith rented the place from his next-door neighbor, who had a great big farm. The Smith's place was little and mean, and they paid only ten dollars a month for it. They seemed to be very poor, but far above the class around them--more like gentlefolks, down on their luck. That's all my men could find out. They didn't leave any address, or tell anyone where they were going, and they took only their trunks with them. The furniture--just a few cheap sticks which they brought with them when they came-- they left standing in the house, I understand; so that looks as if they expected to come back.
"I think I'll run down myself, this afternoon, and have a look around; but I guess what you call the other end of the string is the best chance, I'll get back to that inn tomorrow in the daylight, and see if I can't find some trace of those two men, or someone who saw them come in an automobile or carriage, and remembers the direction."
"Have you any theory to fit the facts. Inspector?" asked the detective, with quiet humor.
The Inspector shifted rather uneasily.
"Well, sir, I haven't much to go on. But why should he have gone to that out-of-the-way hole in Jersey to have an interview with a perfectly respectable, middle-aged couple, who'd lived there four years; and then, a week later, they up and disappear? Then, on the very day before his death, he goes to another quiet spot in the country, and meets two men for a talk. If it's business, why don't they come to his office? If it's a family matter, why not see him in his home openly? There's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere. It looks like blackmail to me. That's my theory--blackmail. They were getting money out of him for something, I'm pretty sure."
"You haven't any proof of that from what you have told me."
"Haven't I? Didn't he pay that couple in Jersey to get out of the way, and get out quick? And he was murdered within a few hours after his interview with the two men--maybe he refused to give them any money; maybe he was tired of being bled, and told them so, and they took their revenge. I know it sounds like a Fourteenth Street melodrama, Mr. Gaunt; but, nevertheless, it's happening every day in real life, as you and I both know, and the police records can show. Anyway, I'm off to look up that Jersey couple."
When Inspector Hanrahan had departed, Gaunt took his watch from his pocket--a curious affair it was, made without a crystal, with strong hands and raised numerals, and the detective's fingers played delicately across the open face. It was just past eleven. Saunders could get him up to the Rocky Point Inn in good time for lunch. He would change places with the Inspector, who was going to Jersey, and the following day, when the police official went to the inn. Gaunt would, in turn, visit that empty farm-house near New Brunswick, and learn what he could of the couple with the significantly ordinary name.
After ordering the car, he called the Appleton house on the telephone, and, at his request, Miss Ellerslie came to the wire. He learned that young Mrs. Appleton, although still very ill, was resting more quietly, and, although she could not be disturbed by an interview for several days, the doctor thought her on the road to a safe and reasonably rapid recovery.
Jenkins announced the car, and Gaunt was soon speeding up Broadway. The air was milder than on the previous day, and gave a hint of the coming Indian summer. The swift run through the warm air was delightful, and the detective listened eagerly to the noises of street life all about him, which gave place, gradually, to the sounds and smells of the country in the autumn; the groaning and creaking of heavily laden produce and haywagons, the odor of drying leaves and ripening grain, and the wine-like scent of crushed and dying grapes.
They did not drive at breakneck speed, and it was half-past one before the car came to a grinding stop on the gravel driveway, before the entrance of the inn. To, the head waiter, who came obsequiously to greet him. Gaunt said:
"I am lunching alone. I should like a table on the side porch--the left side of the house, nearest the door leading from the bar out to the driveway. See that my chauffeur has his luncheon also, please. He will guide me to the table." In a matter-of-fact tone he added: "I am blind."
When he was seated, the detective asked of the chauffeur, in a low tone:
"Saunders, is this the table I asked for?"
"Yes, sir; the nearest table to the door leading from the bar. It's all right, sir."
"All right. Go and have your own lunch now. I want to start off again in about an hour."
Because of his inability to tell by the sense of touch the denomination of the bills he carried. Gaunt kept them in separate purses, of different sizes, stowed about his pockets, and the indefatigable Miss Barnes sorted them for him each morning on her arrival. Currency, of course, he could tell; but he found it inconvenient to carry much gold about with him.
After Saunders had departed, he produced the purse containing the five-dollar notes, and handed one to the head waiter, who was still hovering about.
"Look here, my man," he said. "Did you know Mr. Garret Appleton by sight? Was he a frequent customer here? You need not be afraid to talk to me--I am not a reporter."
The head waiter's fingers closed eagerly over the bill.
"Yes, sir, I knew him very well, sir. I've heard of his--his murder, of course. He was up here just the day before."
"It's about that last trip of his that I want to ask you some questions. I'm a friend of the family. I understand he didn't lunch here, but went out again almost immediately after arriving, and walked over the fields to that patch of woods." He waved his hand vaguely toward the left.
"Yes, sir."
"Did you see him when he returned?"
"Yes, sir."
"He was accompanied by two men, wasn't he --one short and one tall?"
"Yes; but only as far as the edge of the field, sir. Then he left them, and came back here to the inn; had a quick bite, and went off in his car."
"It's too bad that you didn't get a close-enough view of those two men to give me a description of them."
"But I did, sir. You see, they only went back to the woods. They couldn't have gone far, and they must have been watching; for, directly Mr. Appleton's car was out of sight, they came around by way of the lane--I could swear it was the same two, sir--and sat down just two tables away from where you are sitting now, and ordered a drink. One was short and quite stout--that was the old one. He might have been about forty-five, or fifty; but you can't tell exactly, because he was pale and sallow, and looked as if he'd had a long illness, or-or-"
"Go on, my man, there is five dollars more in it for you, if you'll tell me everything. What were you going to say then?"
"Well, of course I don't know who he was, sir, and I haven't any right to speak of it, but, well, I took on a waiter here, once, who had that same queer pallor, and his hair was cropped close. After he'd been here two days, he disappeared with all the hotel silverware he could carry off, and I found out he was an old offender, just out from a long term in prison.
"That stout little man, here Monday afternoon. had the same gray look on his face, although he was mostly bald, and what little hair he had was shaved quite close. It came over me all of a sudden that he might be a jail-bird, too; but I could have kicked myself for a fool, afterward, for he--he tipped handsomely, and seemed quite a gentleman. I've heard, sir, that when a prisoner's term is nearly up, they let his hair grow for a while beforehand; but my convict waiter had been pardoned on short notice--and maybe if this gentleman had been in prison, too, he might have gotten out unexpected, the same way."
"And the younger man--what about him?"