THE GOLD BAG

By Carolyn Wells

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

I. THE CRIME IN WEST SEDGWICK

II. THE CRAWFORD HOUSE

III. THE CORONER'S JURY

IV. THE INQUEST

V. FLORENCE LLOYD

VI. THE GOLD BAG

VII. YELLOW ROSES

VIII. FURTHER INQUIRY

IX. THE TWELFTH ROSE

X. THE WILL

XI. LOUIS'S STORY

XII. LOUIS'S CONFESSION

XIII. MISS LLOYD'S CONFIDENCE

XIV. MR. PORTER'S VIEWS. 

XV. THE PHOTOGRAPH EXPLAINED

XVI. A CALL ON MRS. PURVIS

XVII. THE OWNER OF THE GOLD BAG

XVIII. IN MR. GOODRICH'S OFFICE

XIX. THE MIDNIGHT TRAIN

XX. FLEMING STONE

XXI. THE DISCLOSURE

THE GOLD BAG

I. THE CRIME IN WEST SEDGWICK

Though a young detective, I am not entirely an inexperienced one, andI have several fairly successful investigations to my credit on therecords of the Central Office. 

The Chief said to me one day: "Burroughs, if there's a mystery to beunravelled; I'd rather put it in your hands than to trust it to anyother man on the force. 

"Because, " he went on, "you go about it scientifically, and younever jump at conclusions, or accept them, until they're indubitablywarranted. "

I declared myself duly grateful for the Chief's kind words, but I wassecretly a bit chagrined. A detective's ambition is to be, consideredcapable of jumping at conclusions, only the conclusions must alwaysprove to be correct ones. 

But though I am an earnest and painstaking worker, though my habits aremethodical and systematic, and though I am indefatigably patient andpersevering, I can never make those brilliant deductions from seeminglyunimportant clues that Fleming Stone can. He holds that it is nothingbut observation and logical inference, but to me it is little short ofclairvoyance. 

The smallest detail in the way of evidence immediately connotes in hismind some important fact that is indisputable, but which would neverhave occurred to me. I suppose this is largely a natural bent of hisbrain, for I have not yet been able to achieve it, either by study orexperience. 

Of course I can deduce some facts, and my colleagues often say I amrather clever at it, but they don't know Fleming Stone as well as Ido, and don't realize that by comparison with his talent mine isinsignificant. 

And so, it is both by way of entertainment, and in hope of learning fromhim, that I am with him whenever possible, and often ask him to "deduce"for me, even at risk of boring him, as, unless he is in the right mood, my requests sometimes do. 

I met him accidentally one morning when we both chanced to go into abasement of the Metropolis Hotel in New York to have our shoes shined. 

It was about half-past nine, and as I like to get to my office by teno'clock, I looked forward to a pleasant half-hour's chat with him. Whilewaiting our turn to get a chair, we stood talking, and, seeing a pairof shoes standing on a table, evidently there to be cleaned, I saidbanteringly:

"Now, I suppose, Stone, from looking at those shoes, you can deduce allthere is to know about the owner of them. "

I remember that Sherlock Holmes wrote once, "From a drop of water, alogician could infer the possibility of an Atlantic or a Niagara withouthaving seen or heard of one or the other, " but when I heard FlemingStone's reply to my half-laughing challenge, I felt that he had outdonethe mythical logician. With a mild twinkle in his eye, but with aperfectly grave face, he said slowly, "Those shoes belong to a young man, five feet eight inches high. He doesnot live in New York, but is here to visit his sweetheart. She lives inBrooklyn, is five feet nine inches tall, and is deaf in her left ear. They went to the theatre last night, and neither was in evening dress. "

"Oh, pshaw!" said I, "as you are acquainted with this man, and know howhe spent last evening, your relation of the story doesn't interest me. "

"I don't know him, " Stone returned; "I've no idea what his name is, I've never seen him, and except what I can read from these shoes I knownothing about him. "

I stared at him incredulously, as I always did when confronted by hisastonishing "deductions, " and simply said, "Tell this little Missourian all about it. "

"It did sound well, reeled off like that, didn't it?" he observed, chuckling more at my air of eager curiosity than at his own achievement. "But it's absurdly easy, after all. He is a young man because his shoesare in the very latest, extreme, not exclusive style. He is five feeteight, because the size of his foot goes with that height of man, which, by the way, is the height of nine out of ten men, any way. He doesn'tlive in New York or he wouldn't be stopping at a hotel. Besides, hewould be down-town at this hour, attending to business. "

"Unless he has freak business hours, as you and I do, " I put in. 

"Yes, that might be. But I still hold that he doesn't live in New York, or he couldn't be staying at this Broadway hotel overnight, and sendinghis shoes down to be shined at half-past nine in the morning. Hissweetheart is five feet nine, for that is the height of a tall girl. I know she is tall, for she wears a long skirt. Short girls wear shortskirts, which make them look shorter still, and tall girls wear verylong skirts, which make them look taller. "

"Why do they do that?" I inquired, greatly interested. 

"I don't know. You'll have to ask that of some one wiser than I. But Iknow it's a fact. A girl wouldn't be considered really tall if less thanfive feet nine. So I know that's her height. She is his sweetheart, forno man would go from New York to Brooklyn and bring a lady over here tothe theatre, and then take her home, and return to New York in the earlyhours of the morning, if he were not in love with her. I know she livesin Brooklyn, for the paper says there was a heavy shower there lastnight, while I know no rain fell in New York. I know that they were outin that rain, for her long skirt became muddy, and in turn muddied thewhole upper of his left shoe. The fact that only the left shoe is sosoiled proves that he walked only at her right side, showing that shemust be deaf in her left ear, or he would have walked part of the timeon that side. I know that they went to the theatre in New York, becausehe is still sleeping at this hour, and has sent his boots down to becleaned, instead of coming down with them on his feet to be shined here. If he had been merely calling on the girl in Brooklyn, he would havebeen home early, for they do not sit up late in that borough. I knowthey went to the theatre, instead of to the opera or a ball, for theydid not go in a cab, otherwise her skirt would not have become muddied. This, too, shows that she wore a cloth skirt, and as his shoes are notpatent leathers, it is clear that neither was in evening dress. "

I didn't try to get a verification of Fleming Stone's assertions;I didn't want any. Scores of times I had known him to make similardeductions and in cases where we afterward learned the facts, he wasinvariably correct. So, though we didn't follow up this matter, Iwas sure he was right, and, even if he hadn't been, it would not haveweighed heavily against his large proportion of proved successes. 

We separated then, as we took chairs at some distance from each other, and, with a sigh of regret that I could never hope to go far along theline in which Stone showed such proficiency, I began to read my morningpaper. 

Fleming Stone left the place before I did, nodding a good-by ashe passed me, and a moment after, my own foot-gear being in propercondition, I, too, went out, and went straight to my office. 

As I walked the short distance, my mind dwelt on Stone's quick-wittedwork. Again I wished that I possessed the kind of intelligence thatmakes that sort of thing so easy. Although unusual, it is, after all, atrait of many minds, though often, perhaps, unrecognized and undevelopedby its owner. I dare say it lies dormant in men who have never hadoccasion to realize its value. Indeed, it is of no continuous value toanyone but a detective, and nine detectives out of ten do not possessit. 

So I walked along, envying my friend Stone his gift, and reached myoffice just at ten o'clock as was my almost invariable habit. 

"Hurry up, Mr. Burroughs!" cried my office-boy, as I opened the door. "You're wanted on the telephone. "

Though a respectful and well-mannered boy, some excitement had made hima trifle unceremonious, and I looked at him curiously as I took up thereceiver. 

But with the first words I heard, the office-boy was forgotten, and myown nerves received a shock as I listened to the message. It was fromthe Detective Bureau with which I was connected, and the superintendenthimself was directing me to go at once to West Sedgwick, where aterrible crime had just been discovered. 

"Killed!" I exclaimed; "Joseph Crawford?"

"Yes; murdered in his home in West Sedgwick. The coroner telephoned tosend a detective at once and we want you to go. "

"Of course I'll go. Do you know any more details?"

"No; only that he was shot during the night and the body found thismorning. Mr. Crawford was a big man, you know. Go right off, Mr. Burroughs; we want you to lose no time. "

Yes; I knew Joseph Crawford by name, though not personally, and I knewhe was a big man in the business world, and his sudden death would meanexcitement in Wall Street matters. Of his home, or home-life, I knewnothing. 

"I'll go right off, " I assured the Chief, and turned away from thetelephone to find Donovan, the office-boy, already looking up trains ina timetable. 

"Good boy, Don, " said I approvingly; "what's the next train to WestSedgwick, and how long does it take to get there?"

"You kin s'lect the ten-twenty, Mr. Burruz, if you whirl over in ataxi an' shoot the tunnel, " said Donovan, who was rather a graphicconversationalist. "That'll spill you out at West Sedgwick 'bout quarterof 'leven. Was he moidered, Mr. Burruz?"

"So they tell me, Don. His death will mean something in financialcircles. "

"Yessir. He was a big plute. Here's your time-table, Mr. Burruz. When'llyou be back?"

"Don't know, Don. You look after things. "

"Sure! everything'll be took care of. Lemme know your orders when youhave 'em. "

By means of the taxi Don had called and the tunnel route as he hadsuggested, I caught the train, satisfied that I had obeyed the Chief'sorders to lose no time. 

Lose no time indeed! I was more anxious than any one else could possiblybe to reach the scene of the crime before significant clues wereobliterated or destroyed by bungling investigators. I had had experiencewith the police of suburban towns, and I well knew their two principaltypes. Either they were of a pompous, dignified demeanor, which covereda bewildered ignorance, or else they were overzealous and worked witha misdirected energy that made serious trouble for an intelligentdetective. Of course, of the two kinds I preferred the former, but thedanger was that I should encounter both. 

On my way I diverted my mind, and so partly forgot my impatience, by endeavoring to "deduce" the station or occupation of my fellowpassengers. 

Opposite me in the tunnel train sat a mild-faced gentleman, and from thegeneral, appearance of his head and hat I concluded he was a clergyman. I studied him unostentatiously and tried to find some indication of thedenomination he might belong to, or the character of his congregation, but as I watched, I saw him draw a sporting paper from his pocket, andturning his hand, a hitherto unseen diamond flashed brilliantly fromhis little finger. I hastily, revised my judgment, and turning slightlyobserved the man who sat next me. Determined to draw only logicalinferences, I scrutinized his coat, that garment being usually highlysuggestive to our best regulated detectives. I noticed that while theleft sleeve was unworn and in good condition, the right sleeve wasfrayed at the inside edge, and excessively smooth and shiny on the innerforearm. Also the top button of the coat was very much worn, and thenext one slightly. 

"A-ha!" said I to myself, "I've nailed you, my friend. You're adesk-clerk, and you write all day long, standing at a desk. The worn topbutton rubs against your desk as you stand, which it would not do wereyou seated. "

With a pardonable curiosity to learn if I were right, I openedconversation with the young man. He was not unwilling to respond, and after a few questions I learned, to my chagrin, that he was aphotographer. Alas for my deductions! But surely, Fleming Stone himselfwould not have guessed a photographer from a worn and shiny coat-sleeve. At the risk of being rudely personal, I made some reference to fashionsin coats. The young man smiled and remarked incidentally, that owing tocertain circumstances he was at the moment wearing his brother's coat. 

"And is your brother a desk clerk?" inquired I almost involuntarily:

He gave me a surprised glance, but answered courteously enough, "Yes;"and the conversation flagged. 

Exultantly I thought that my deduction, though rather an obvious one, was right; but after another furtive glance at the young man, I realizedthat Stone would have known he was wearing another's coat, for it wasthe most glaring misfit in every way. 

Once more I tried, and directed my attention to a middle-aged, angular-looking woman, whose strong, sharp-featured face betokened aprim spinster, probably at the head of a girls' school, or engaged insome clerical work. However, as I passed her on my way to leave thetrain I noticed a wedding-ring on her hand, and heard her say to hercompanion, "No; I think a woman's sphere is in her own kitchen andnursery. How could I think otherwise, with my six children to bringup?" After these lamentable failures, I determined not to trust much todeduction in the case I was about to investigate, but to learn actualfacts from actual evidence. 

I reached West Sedgwick, as Donovan had said, at quarter before eleven. Though I had never been there before, the place looked quite as I hadimagined it. The railway station was one of those modern attractivestructures of rough gray stone, with picturesque projecting roof andbroad, clean platforms. A flight of stone steps led down to the roadway, and the landscape in every direction showed the well-kept roads, thewell-grown trees and the carefully-tended estates of a town of suburbanhomes. The citizens were doubtless mainly men whose business was in NewYork, but who preferred not to live there. 

The superintendent must have apprised the coroner by telephone of myimmediate arrival, for a village cart from the Crawford establishmentwas awaiting me, and a smart groom approached and asked if I were Mr. Herbert Burroughs. 

A little disappointed at having no more desirable companion on my way tothe house, I climbed up beside the driver, and the groom solemnly tookhis place behind. Not curiosity, but a justifiable desire to learn themain facts of the case as soon as possible, led me to question the manbeside me. 

I glanced at him first and saw only the usual blank countenance of thewell-trained coachman. 

His face was intelligent, and his eyes alert, but his impassiveexpression showed his habit of controlling any indication of interest inpeople or things. 

I felt there would be difficulty in ingratiating myself at all, but Ifelt sure that subterfuge would not help me, so I spoke directly. 

"You are the coachman of the late Mr. Crawford?"

"Yes, sir. "

I hadn't really expected more than this in words, but his tone was sodecidedly uninviting of further conversation that I almost concluded tosay nothing more. But the drive promised to be a fairly long one, so Imade another effort. 

"As the detective on this case, I wish to hear the story of it as soonas I can. Perhaps you can give me a brief outline of what happened. "

It was perhaps my straightforward manner, and my quite apparentassumption of his intelligence, that made the man relax a little andreply in a more conversational tone. 

"We're forbidden to chatter, sir, " he said, "but, bein' as you're thedetective, I s'pose there's no harm. But it's little we know, afterall. The master was well and sound last evenin', and this mornin' he wasfound dead in his own office-chair. "

"You mean a private office in his home?"

"Yes, sir. Mr. Crawford went to his office in New York 'most every day, but days when he didn't go, and evenin's and Sundays, he was much in hisoffice at home, sir. "

"Who discovered the tragedy?"

"I don't rightly know, sir, if it was Louis, his valet, or Lambert, thebutler, but it was one or t'other, sir. "

"Or both together?" I suggested. 

"Yes, sir; or both together. "

"Is any one suspected of the crime?"

The man hesitated a moment, and looked as if uncertain what to reply, then, as he set his jaw squarely, he said:

"Not as I knows on, sir. "

"Tell me something of the town, " I observed next, feeling that it wasbetter to ask no more vital questions of a servant. 

We were driving along streets of great beauty. Large and handsomedwellings, each set in the midst of extensive and finely-kept grounds, met the view on either aide. Elaborate entrances opened the way to widesweeps of driveway circling green velvety lawns adorned with occasionalshrubs or flower-beds. The avenues were wide, and bordered with treescarefully set out and properly trimmed. The streets were in finecondition, and everything betokened a community, not only wealthy, butintelligent and public-spirited. Surely West Sedgwick was a delightfullocation for the homes of wealthy New York business men. 

"Well, sir, " said the coachman, with unconcealed pride, "Mr. Crawfordwas the head of everything in the place. His is the handsomest house andthe grandest grounds. Everybody respected him and looked up to him. Hehadn't an enemy in the world. "

This was an opening for further conjecture as to the murderer, and Isaid: "But the man who killed him must have been his enemy. "

"Yes, sir; but I mean no enemy that anybody knew of. It must have beensome burglar or intruder. "

Though I wanted to learn such facts as the coachman might know, hisopinions did not interest me, and I again turned my attention to thebeautiful residences we were passing. 

"That place over there, " the man went on, pointing with his whip, "isMr. Philip Crawford's house--the brother of my master, sir. Them redtowers, sticking up through the trees, is the house of Mr. LemuelPorter, a great friend of both the Crawford brothers. Next, on the left, is the home of Horace Hamilton, the great electrician. Oh, Sedgwick isfull of well-known men, sir, but Joseph Crawford was king of this town. Nobody'll deny that. "

I knew of Mr. Crawford's high standing in the city, and now, learningof his local preeminence, I began to think I was about to engage in whatwould probably be a very important case. 

II. THE CRAWFORD HOUSE

"Here we are, sir, " said the driver, as we turned in at a fine stonegateway. "This is the Joseph Crawford place. "

He spoke with a sort of reverent pride, and I afterward learned that hisdevotion to his late master was truly exceptional. 

This probably prejudiced him in favor of the Crawford place and all itsappurtenances, for, to me, the estate was not so magnificent as some ofthe others we had passed. And yet, though not so large, I soon realizedthat every detail of art or architecture was perfect in its way, andthat it was really a gem of a country home to which I had been brought. 

We drove along a curving road to the house, passing well-arranged flowerbeds, and many valuable trees and shrubs. Reaching the porte cochere thedriver stopped, and the groom sprang down to hand me out. 

As might be expected, many people were about. Men stood talking ingroups on the veranda, while messengers were seen hastily coming orgoing through the open front doors. 

A waiting servant in the hall at once ushered me into a large room. 

The effect of the interior of the house impressed me pleasantly. As Ipassed through the wide hall and into the drawing-room, I was consciousof an atmosphere of wealth tempered by good taste and judgment. 

The drawing-room was elaborate, though not ostentatious, and seemedwell adapted as a social setting for Joseph Crawford and his family. It should have been inhabited by men and women in gala dress and withsmiling society manners. 

It was therefore a jarring note when I perceived its only occupant to bea commonplace looking man, in an ill-cut and ill-fitting business suit. He came forward to greet me, and his manner was a trifle pompous as heannounced, "My name is Monroe, and I am the coroner. You, I think, areMr. Burroughs, from New York. "

It was probably not intentional, and may have been my imagination, buthis tone seemed to me amusingly patronizing. 

"Yes, I am Mr. Burroughs, " I said, and I looked at Mr. Monroe with whatI hoped was an expression that would assure him that our stations wereat least equal. 

I fear I impressed him but slightly, for he went on to tell me that heknew of my reputation as a clever detective, and had especially desiredmy attendance on this case. This sentiment was well enough, but he stillkept up his air and tone of patronage, which however amused more thanirritated me. 

I knew the man by hearsay, though we had never met before; and Iknew that he was of a nature to be pleased with his own prominenceas coroner, especially in the case of so important a man as JosephCrawford. 

So I made allowance for this harmless conceit on his part, and was evenwilling to cater to it a little by way of pleasing him. He seemed to mea man, honest, but slow of thought; rather practical and serious, andthough overvaluing his own importance, yet not opinionated or stubborn. 

"Mr. Burroughs, " he said, "I'm very glad you could get here so promptly;for the case seems to me a mysterious one, and the value of immediateinvestigation cannot be overestimated. "

"I quite agree with you, " I returned. "And now will you tell me theprincipal facts, as you know them, or will you depute some one else todo so?"

"I am even now getting a jury together, " he said, "and so you will beable to hear all that the witnesses may say in their presence. In themeantime, if you wish to visit the scene of the crime, Mr. Parmalee willtake you there. "

At the sound of his name, Mr. Parmalee stepped forward and wasintroduced to me. He proved to be a local detective, a young man whoalways attended Coroner Monroe on occasions like the present; but who, owing to the rarity of such occasions in West Sedgwick, had had littleexperience in criminal investigation. 

He was a young man of the type often seen among Americans. He was veryfair, with a pink complexion, thin, yellow hair and weak eyes. Hismanner was nervously alert, and though he often began to speak with anair of positiveness, he frequently seemed to weaken, and wound up hissentences in a floundering uncertainty. 

He seemed to be in no way jealous of my presence there, and indeed spoketo me with an air of comradeship. 

Doubtless I was unreasonable, but I secretly resented this. However Idid not show my resentment and endeavored to treat Mr. Parmalee as afriend and co-worker. 

The coroner had left us together, and we stood in the drawing-room, talking, or rather he talked and I listened. Upon acquaintance he seemedto grow more attractive. He was impulsive and jumped at conclusions, buthe seemed to have ideas, though they were rarely definitely expressed. 

He told me as much as he knew of the details of the affair and proposedthat we go directly to the scene of the crime. 

As this was what I was impatient to do, I consented. 

"You see, it's this way, " he said, in a confidential whisper, as wetraversed the long hall: "there is no doubt in any one's mind as to whocommitted the murder, but no name has been mentioned yet, and nobodywants to be the first to say that name. It'll come out at the inquest, of course, and then--"

"But, " I interrupted, "if the identity of the murderer is so certain, why did they send for me in such haste?"

"Oh, that was the coroner's doing. He's a bit inclined to thespectacular, is Monroe, and he wants to make the whole affair asimportant as possible. "

"But surely, Mr. Parmalee, if you are certain of the criminal it is veryabsurd for me to take up the case at all. "

"Oh, well, Mr. Burroughs, as I say, no name has been spoken yet. And, too, a big case like this ought to have a city detective on it. Evenif you only corroborate what we all feel sure of, it will prove to thepublic mind that it must be so. "

"Tell me then, who is your suspect?"

"Oh, no, since you are here you had better investigate with anunprejudiced mind. Though you cannot help arriving at the inevitableconclusion. "

We had now reached a closed door, and, at Mr. Parmalee's tap, wereadmitted by the inspector who was in charge of the room. 

It was a beautiful apartment, far too rich and elaborate to bedesignated by the name of "office, " as it was called by every one whospoke of it; though of course it was Mr. Crawford's office, as wasshown by the immense table-desk of dark mahogany, and all the otherparaphernalia of a banker's work-room, from ticker to typewriter. 

But the decorations of walls and ceilings, the stained glass of thewindows, the pictures, rugs, and vases, all betokened luxurious tastesthat are rarely indulged in office furnishings. The room was floodedwith sunlight. Long French windows gave access to a side veranda, whichin turn led down to a beautiful terrace and formal garden. But all thesethings were seen only in a hurried glance, and then my eyes fell on thetragic figure in the desk chair. 

The body had not been moved, and would not be until after the jury hadseen it, and though a ghastly sight, because of a bullet-hole in theleft temple, otherwise it looked much as Mr. Crawford must have lookedin life. 

A handsome man, of large physique and strong, stern face, he must havebeen surprised, and killed instantly; for surely, given the chance, he would have lacked neither courage nor strength to grapple with anassailant. 

I felt a deep impulse of sympathy for that splendid specimen ofhumanity, taken unawares, without having been given a moment in which tofight for his life, and yet presumably seeing his murderer, as he seemedto have been shot directly from the front. 

As I looked at that noble face, serene and dignified in its deathpallor, I felt glad that my profession was such as might lead to theavenging of such a detestable crime. 

And suddenly I had a revulsion of feeling against such petty methods asdeductions from trifling clues. 

Moreover I remembered my totally mistaken deductions of that verymorning. Let other detectives learn the truth by such claptrap means ifthey choose. This case was too large and too serious to be allowed todepend on surmises so liable to be mistaken. No, I would search forreal evidence, human testimony, reliable witnesses, and so thorough, systematic, and persevering should my search be, that I would finallymeet with success. 

"Here's the clue, " said Parmelee's voice, as he grasped my arm andturned me in another direction. 

He pointed to a glittering article on the large desk. 

It was a woman's purse, or bag, of the sort known as "gold-mesh. "Perhaps six inches square, it bulged as if overcrowded with somefeminine paraphernalia. 

"It's Miss Lloyd's, " went on Parmalee. "She lives here, you know--Mr. Crawford's niece. She's lived here for years and years. "

"And you suspect her?" I said, horrified. 

"Well, you see, she's engaged to Gregory Hall he's Mr. Crawford'ssecretary--and Mr. Crawford didn't approve of the match; and so--"

He shrugged his shoulders in a careless fashion, as if for a woman toshoot her uncle were an everyday affair. 

But I was shocked and incredulous, and said so. 

"Where is Miss Lloyd?" I asked. "Does she claim ownership of this goldbag?"

"No; of course not, " returned Parmalee. "She's no fool, Florence Lloydisn't! She's locked in her room and won't come out. Been there all themorning. Her maid says this isn't Miss Lloyd's bag, but of course she'dsay that. "

"Well, that question ought to be easily settled. What's in the bag?"

"Look for yourself. Monroe and I ran through the stuff, but there'snothing to say for sure whose bag it is. "

I opened the pretty bauble, and let the contents fall out on the desk. 

A crumpled handkerchief, a pair of white kid gloves, a little trinketknown as a "vanity case, " containing a tiny mirror and a tinier powderpuff; a couple of small hair-pins, a newspaper clipping, and a fewsilver coins were all that rewarded my trouble. 

Nothing definite, indeed, and yet I knew if Fleming Stone could look atthe little heap of feminine belongings, he would at once tell the fairowner's age, height, and weight, if not her name and address. 

I had only recently assured myself that such deductions were of littleor no use, and yet, I could not help minutely examining the prettytrifles lying on the desk. I scrutinized the handkerchief for a monogramor an initial, but it had none. It was dainty, plain and fine, of sheerlinen, with a narrow hem. To me it indicated an owner of a refined, feminine type, and absolutely nothing more. I couldn't help thinkingthat even Fleming Stone could not infer any personal characteristics ofthe lady from that blank square of linen. 

The vanity case I knew to be a fad of fashionable women, and had thatbeen monogrammed, it might have proved a clue. But, though pretty, itwas evidently not of any great value, and was merely such a trifle asthe average woman would carry about. 

And yet I felt exasperated that with so many articles to study, I couldlearn nothing of the individual to whom they belonged. The gloves werehopeless. Of a good quality and a medium size, they seemed to tell menothing. They were but slightly soiled, and apparently might have beenworn once or twice. They had never been cleaned, as the inside showedno scrawled hieroglyphics. But all of these conclusions pointed nowheresave to the average well-groomed American woman. 

The hair-pins and the silver money were equally bare of suggestion, butI hopefully picked up the bit of newspaper. 

"Surely this newspaper clipping must throw some light, " I mused, but itproved to be only the address of a dyeing and cleaning establishment inNew York City. 

"This is being taken care of?" I said, and the burly inspector, who upto now had not spoken, said:

"Yes, sir! Nobody touches a thing in this: room while I'm here. You, sir, are of course an exception, but no one else is allowed to meddlewith anything. "

This reminded me that as the detective in charge of this case, it was myprivilege--indeed, my duty--to examine the papers and personal effectsthat were all about, in an effort to gather clues for future use. 

I was ignorant of many important details, and turned to Parmelee forinformation. 

That young man however, though voluble, was, inclined to talk on onlyone subject, the suspected criminal, Miss Florence Lloyd. 

"You see, it must be her bag. Because who else could have left it here?Mrs. Pierce, the only other lady in the house, doesn't carry a youngishbag like that. She'd have a black leather bag, more likely, or a-- ora--"

"Well, it really doesn't matter what kind of a bag Mrs. Pierce wouldcarry, " said I, a little impatiently; "the thing is to prove whetherthis is Miss Lloyd's bag or not. And as it is certainly not a matterof conjecture, but a matter of fact, I think we may leave it for thepresent, and turn our attention to other matters. "

I could see that Parmalee was disappointed that I had made no startlingdeductions from my study of the bag and its contents, and, partly owingto my own chagrin at this state of affairs, I pretended to consider thebag of little consequence, and turned hopefully to an investigation ofthe room. 

The right-hand upper drawer of the double-pedestalled desk was open. Seemingly, Mr. Crawford had been engaged with its contents during thelatter moments of his life. 

At a glance, I saw the drawer contained exceedingly valuable andimportant papers. 

With an air of authority, intentionally exaggerated for the purpose ofimpressing Parmalee, I closed the drawer, and locked it with the keyalready in the keyhole. 

This key was one of several on a key-ring, and, taking it from itsplace, I dropped the whole bunch in my pocket. This action at once putme in my rightful place. The two men watching me unconsciously assumeda more deferential air, and, though they said nothing, I could see thattheir respect for my authority had increased. 

Strangely enough, after this episode, a new confidence in my own powerstook possession of me, and, shaking off the apathy that had come over meat sight of that dread figure in the chair, I set methodically to workto examine the room. 

Of course I noted the position of the furniture, the state of thewindow-fastenings, and such things in a few moments. The many filingcabinets and indexed boxes, I glanced at, and locked those that had keysor fastenings. 

The inspector sat with folded hands watching me with interest but sayingnothing. Parmalee, on the other hand, kept up a running conversation, sometimes remarking lightly on my actions, and again returning to thesubject of Miss Lloyd. 

"I can see, " he said, "that you naturally dislike to suspect a woman, and a young woman too. But you don't know Miss Lloyd. She is haughtyand wilful. And as I told you, nobody has mentioned her yet in thisconnection. But I am speaking to you alone, and I have no reason tomince matters. And you know Florence Lloyd is not of the Crawfordstock. The Crawfords are a fine old family, and not one of them couldbe capable of crime. But Miss Lloyd is on the other side of the house, a niece of Mrs. Crawford; and I've heard that the Lloyd stock is not allthat could be desired. There is a great deal in heredity, and she maynot be responsible... "

I paid little attention to Parmalee's talk, which was thrown at me injerky, desultory sentences, and interested me not at all. I went on withmy work of investigation, and though I did not get down on my knees andexamine every square inch of the carpet with a lens, yet I thoroughlyexamined all of the contents of the room. I regret to say, however, thatI found nothing that seemed to be a clue to the murderer. 

Stepping out on the veranda, I looked for footprints. The "light snow"usually so helpful to a detective had not fallen, as it was April, andrather warm for the season. But I found many heel marks, apparently ofmen's boots; yet they were not necessarily of very recent date, and Idon't think much of foot-print clues, anyhow. 

Then I examined the carpet, or, rather, the several rugs whichornamented the beautiful polished floor. 

I found nothing but two petals of a pale yellow rose. They werecrumpled, but not dry or withered, and could not have been long detachedfrom the blossom on which they grew. 

Parmalee chanced to have his back toward me as I spied them, andI picked them up and put them away in my pocket-book without hisknowledge. If the stolid inspector saw me, he made no sign. Indeed, I think he would have said nothing if I had carried off the big deskitself. I looked round the room for a bouquet or vase of flowers fromwhich the petals might have fallen, but none was there. 

This far I had progressed when I heard steps in the hall, and a momentlater the coroner ushered the six gentlemen of his jury into the room. 

III. THE CORONER'S JURY

It was just as the men came in at the door, that I chanced to notice anewspaper that lay on a small table. I picked it up with an apparent airof carelessness, and, watching my chance, unobserved by Parmalee, I putthe paper away in a drawer, which I locked. 

The six men, whom Coroner Monroe named over to me, by way of a briefintroduction, stepped silently as they filed past the body of their latefriend and neighbor. 

For the jurymen had been gathered hastily from among the citizens ofWest Sedgwick who chanced to be passing; and as it was after eleveno'clock, they were, for the most part, men of leisure, and occupants ofthe handsome homes in the vicinity. 

Probably none of them had ever before been called to act on a coroner'sjury, and all seemed impressed with the awfulness of the crime, as wellas imbued with a personal sense of sorrow. 

Two of the jurors had been mentioned to me by name, by the coachmanwho brought me from the station. Horace Hamilton and Lemuel Porter werenear-by neighbors of the murdered man, and; I judged from their remarks, were rather better acquainted with him than were the others. 

Mr. Hamilton was of the short, stout, bald-headed type, sometimes calledaldermanic. It was plainly to be seen that his was a jocund nature, andthe awe which he felt in this dreadful presence of death, though clearlyshown on his rubicund face, was evidently a rare emotion with him. He glanced round the room as if expecting to see everything therematerially changed, and though he looked toward the figure of Mr. Crawford now and then, it was with difficulty, and he averted hiseyes as quickly as possible. He was distinctly nervous, and thoughhe listened to the remarks of Coroner Monroe and the other jurors, heseemed impatient to get away. 

Mr. Porter, in appearance, was almost the exact reverse of Mr. Hamilton. He was a middle-aged man with the iron gray hair and piercing dark eyesthat go to make up what is perhaps the handsomest type of Americans. Hewas a tall man, strong, lean and sinewy, with a bearing of dignity anddecision. Both these men were well-dressed to the point of affluence, and, as near neighbor and intimate friends of the dead man, they seemedto prefer to stand together and a little apart from the rest. 

Three more of the jurors seemed to me not especially noticeable in anyway. They looked as one would expect property owners in West Sedgwick tolook. They listened attentively to what Mr. Monroe said, asked few or noquestions, and seemed appalled at the unusual task they had before them. 

Only one juror impressed me unpleasantly. That was Mr. Orville, ayoungish man, who seemed rather elated at the position in which he foundhimself. He fingered nearly everything on the desk; he peered carefullyinto the face of the victim of the crime, and he somewhat ostentatiouslymade notes in a small Russia leather memorandum book. 

He spoke often to the coroner, saying things which seemed to meimpertinent, such as, "Have you noticed the blotter, Mr. Coroner? Veryoften, you know, much may be learned from the blotter on a man's desk. "

As the large blotter in question was by no means fresh, indeed wasthickly covered with ink impressions, and as there was nothing toindicate that Mr. Crawford had been engaged in writing immediatelybefore his death, Mr. Orville's suggestion was somewhat irrelevant. And, too, the jurors were not detectives seeking clues, but were now merelylearning the known facts. 

However, Mr. Orville fussed around, even looking into the wastebasket, and turning up a corner of a large rug as if ferreting for evidence. 

The others exhibited no such minute curiosity, and, after a few moments, they followed the coroner out of the room. 

Then the doctor and his assistants came to take the body away, andI went in search of Coroner Monroe, eager for further informationconcerning the case, of which I really, as yet, knew but little. 

Parmalee went with me and we found Mr. Monroe in the library, quiteready to talk with us. 

"Mr. Orville seems to possess the detective instinct himself, " observedMr. Parmalee, with what seemed like a note of jealousy in his tone. 

"The true detective mind, " returned Mr. Monroe, with his slow pomposity, "is not dependent on instinct or intuition. "

"Oh, I think it is largely dependent on that, " I said, "or where does itdiffer from the ordinary inquiring mind?"

"I'm sure you will agree with me, Mr. Burroughs, " the coroner went on, almost as if I had not spoken, "that it depends upon a nicely adjustedmentality that is quick to see the cause back of an effect. "

To me this seemed a fair definition of intuition, but there wassomething in the unctuous roll of Mr. Monroe's words that made mepositive he was quoting his somewhat erudite speech, and had not himselfa perfectly clear comprehension of its meaning. 

"It's guessing, " declared Parmalee, "that's all it is, guessing. If youguess right, you're a famous detective; if you guess wrong, you're adub. That's all there is about it. "

"No, no, Mr. Parmalee, "--and Mr. Monroe slowly shook his finger at therash youth--"what you call guessing is really divination. Yes, my dearsir, it is actual divination. "

"To my mind, " I put in, "detective divination is merely minuteobservation. But why do we quibble over words and definitions when thereis much work to be done? When is the formal inquest to be held, Mr. Monroe?"

"This afternoon at two o'clock, " he replied. 

"Then I'll go away now, " I said, "for I must find an abiding place formyself in West Sedgwick. There is an inn, I suppose. "

"They'll probably ask you to stay here, " observed Coroner Monroe, "butI advise you not to do so. I think you'll be freer and less hampered inyour work if you go to the inn. "

"I quite agree with you, " I replied. "But I see little chance of beinginvited to stay here. Where is the family? Who are in it?"

"Not many. There is Miss Florence Lloyd, a niece of Mr. Crawford. Thatis, she is the niece of his wife. Mrs. Crawford has been dead manyyears, and Miss Lloyd has kept house for her uncle all that time. Thenthere is Mrs. Pierce, an elderly lady and a distant relative of Mr. Crawford's. That is all, except the secretary, Gregory Hall, who liveshere much of the time. That is, he has a room here, but often he is inNew York or elsewhere on Mr. Crawford's business. "

"Mr. Crawford had an office both here and in New York?" I asked. 

"Yes; and of late years he has stayed at home as much as possible. He went to New York only about three or four days in the week, andconducted his business from here the rest of the time. Young Hall is aclever fellow, and has been Mr. Crawford's righthand man for years. "

"Where is he now?"

"We think he's in New York, but haven't yet been able to locate himat Mr. Crawford's office there, or at his club. He is engaged to MissLloyd, though I understand that the engagement is contrary to Mr. Crawford's wishes. "

"And where is Miss Lloyd, --and Mrs. Pierce?"

"They are both in their rooms. Mrs. Pierce is prostrated at the tragedy, and Miss Lloyd simply refuses to make her appearance. "

"But she'll have to attend the inquest?"

"Oh, yes, of course. She'll be with us then. I think I won't sayanything about her to you, as I'd rather you'd see her first withentirely unprejudiced eyes. "

"So you, too, think Miss Lloyd is implicated?"

"I don't think anything about it, Mr. Burroughs. As coroner it is not myplace to think along such lines. "

"Well, everybody else thinks so, " broke in Parmalee. "And why? Becausethere's no one else for suspicion to light on. No one else who by anypossibility could have done the deed. "

"Oh, come now, Mr. Parmalee, " said I, "there must be others. They maynot yet have come to our notice, but surely you must admit an intrudercould have come into the room by way of those long, open windows. "

"These speculations are useless, gentlemen, " said Mr. Monroe, withhis usual air of settling the matter. "Cease then, I beg, or at leastpostpone them. If you are walking down the avenue, Mr. Parmalee, perhapsyou'll be good enough to conduct Mr. Burroughs to the Sedgwick Arms, where he doubtless can find comfortable accommodations. "

I thanked Mr. Monroe for the suggestion, but said, straightforwardlyenough, that I was not yet quite ready to leave the Crawford house, butthat I would not detain Mr. Parmalee, for I could myself find my way tothe inn, having noticed it on my drive from the train. 

So Parmalee went away, and I was about to return to Mr. Crawford'soffice where I hoped to pursue a little uninterrupted investigation. 

But Mr. Monroe detained me a moment, to present me to a tall, fine-looking man who had just come in. 

He proved to be Philip Crawford, a brother of Joseph, and I at onceobserved a strong resemblance between their two faces. 

"I am glad to meet you, Mr. Burroughs, " he said. "Mr. Monroe tells meyou are a clever and experienced detective, and I trust you can help usto avenge this dastardly crime. I am busy with some important mattersjust now, but later I shall be glad to confer with you, and be of anyhelp I can in your investigation. "

I looked at Mr. Philip Crawford curiously. Of course I didn't expect himto give way to emotional grief, but it jarred on me to hear him referto his brother's tragic death in such cold tones, and with such abusinesslike demeanor. 

However, I realized I did not know the man at all, and this attitudemight be due to his effort in concealing his real feelings. 

He looked very like his brother Joseph, and I gathered from theappearance of both men, and the manner of Philip, that the Crawfordnature was one of repression and self-control. Moreover, I knew nothingof the sentiments of the two brothers, and it might easily be that theywere not entirely in sympathy. 

I thanked him for his offer of help, and then as he volunteered nofurther observations, I excused myself and proceeded alone to thelibrary. 

As I entered the great room and closed the door behind me, I was againimpressed by the beauty and luxury of the appointments. Surely JosephCrawford must have been a man of fine calibre and refined tastes toenjoy working in such an atmosphere. But I had only two short hoursbefore the inquest, and I had many things to do, so for the moment Iset myself assiduously to work examining the room again. As in my firstexamination, I did no microscopic scrutinizing; but I looked over thepapers on and in the desk, I noted conditions in the desk of Mr. Hall, the secretary, and I paid special attention to the position of thefurniture and windows, my thoughts all directed to an intruder fromoutside on Mr. Crawford's midnight solitude. 

I stepped through the long French window on to the veranda, and aftera thorough examination of the veranda, I went on down the steps to thegravel walk. Against a small rosebush, just off the walk, I saw a smallslip of pink paper. I picked it up, hardly daring to hope it might be aclue, and I saw it was a trolley transfer, whose punched holes indicatedthat it had been issued the evening before. It might or might not beimportant as evidence, but I put it carefully away in my note-book forlater consideration. 

Returning to the library I took the newspaper which I had earlierdiscovered from the drawer where I had hidden it, and after one moreswift but careful glance round the room, I went away, confident that Ihad not done my work carelessly. 

I left the Crawford house and walked along the beautiful avenue to thesomewhat pretentious inn bearing the name of Sedgwick Arms. 

Here, as I had been led to believe, I found pleasant, even luxuriousaccommodations. The landlord of the inn was smiling and pleasant, although landlord seems an old-fashioned term to apply to the verymodern and up-to-date man who received me. 

His name was Carstairs, and he had the genial, perceptive manner of aman about town. 

"Dastardly shame!" he exclaimed, after he had assured himself of myidentity. "Joseph Crawford was one of our best citizens, one of ourfinest men. He hadn't an enemy in the world, my dear Mr. Burroughs--notan enemy! generous, kindly nature, affable and friendly with all. "

"But I understand he frowned on his ward's love affair, Mr. Carstairs. "

"Yes; yes, indeed. And who wouldn't? Young Hall is no fit mate forFlorence Lloyd. He's a fortune-hunter. I know the man, and his onlyambition is the aggrandizement of his own precious self. "

"Then you don't consider Miss Lloyd concerned in this crime?"

"Concerned in crime? Florence Lloyd! why, man, you must be crazy! Theidea is unthinkable!"

I was sorry I had spoken, but I remembered too late that the suspicionswhich pointed toward Miss Lloyd were probably known only to those whohad been in the Crawford house that morning. As for the townspeople ingeneral, though they knew of the tragedy, they knew very little of itsdetails. 

I hastened to assure Mr. Carstairs that I had never seen Miss Lloyd, that I had formed no opinions whatever, and that I was merely repeatingwhat were probably vague and erroneous suspicions of mistakenly-mindedpeople. 

At last, behind my locked door, I took from my pocket the newspaper Ihad brought from Mr. Crawford's office. 

It seemed to me important, from the fact that it was an extra, publishedlate the night before. 

An Atlantic liner had met with a serious accident, and an extra had beenhastily put forth by one of the most enterprising of our evening papers. I, myself, had bought one of these extras, about midnight; and thefinding of a copy in the office of the murdered man might prove a clueto the criminal. 

I then examined carefully the transfer slip I had picked up on theCrawford lawn. It had been issued after nine o'clock the evening before. This seemed to me to prove that the holder of that transfer must havebeen on the Crawford property and near the library veranda late lastnight, and it seemed to me that this was plain common-sense reasoning, and not mere intuition or divination. The transfer might have a simpleand innocent explanation, but until I could learn of that, I should holdit carefully as a possible clue. 

IV. THE INQUEST

Shortly before two o'clock I was back at the Crawford house and foundthe large library, where the inquest was to be held, already well filledwith people. I took an inconspicuous seat, and turned my attentionfirst to the group that comprised, without a doubt, the members of Mr. Crawford's household. 

Miss Lloyd--for I knew at a glance the black-robed young woman must beshe--was of a striking personality. Tall, large, handsome, she couldhave posed as a model for Judith, Zenobia, or any of the great andpowerful feminine characters in history. I was impressed not so much byher beauty as by her effect of power and ability. I had absolutely noreason, save Parmalee's babblings, to suspect this woman of crime, butI could not rid myself of a conviction that she had every appearance ofbeing capable of it. 

Yet her face was full of contradictions. The dark eyes were haughty, even imperious; but the red, curved mouth had a tender expression, andthe chin, though firm and decided-looking, yet gave an impression ofgentleness. 

On the whole, she fascinated me by the very mystery of her charm, and Ifound my eyes involuntarily returning again and again to that beautifulface. 

She was dressed in a black, trailing gown of material which I think iscalled China crepe. It fell around her in soft waving folds and lay inlittle billows on the floor. Her dark hair was dressed high on her head, and seemed to form a sort of crown which well suited her regal type. Sheheld her head high, and the uplift of her chin seemed to be a naturalcharacteristic. 

Good birth and breeding spoke in every phase of her personality, and inher every movement and gesture. I remembered Parmalee's hint of unworthyancestors, and cast it aside as impossible of belief. She spoke seldom, but occasionally turned to the lady at her side with a few murmuredwords that were indubitably those of comfort or encouragement. 

Her companion, a gray-haired, elderly lady, was, of course, Mrs. Pierce. She was trembling with the excitement of the occasion, and seemed todepend on Florence Lloyd's strong personality and affectionate sympathyto keep her from utter collapse. 

Mrs. Pierce was of the old school of gentlewomen. Her quiet, black gownwith its crepe trimmings, gave, even to my masculine eye an effect ofcorrect and fashionable, yet quiet and unostentatious mourning garb. 

She had what seemed to me a puzzling face. It did not suggest strengthof character, for the soft old cheeks and quivering lips indicated nostrong self-control, and yet from her sharp, dark eyes she now andagain darted glances that were unmistakably those of a keen and positivepersonality. 

I concluded that hers was a strong nature, but shaken to its foundationby the present tragedy. There was, without doubt, a great affectionexisting between her and Miss Lloyd, and yet I felt that they were notin each other's complete confidence. 

Though, for that matter, I felt intuitively that few people possessedthe complete confidence of Florence Lloyd. Surely she was a wonderfulcreature, and as I again allowed myself to gaze on her beautiful face Iwas equally convinced of the possibility of her committing a crime andthe improbability of her doing so. 

Near these two sat a young man who, I was told, was Gregory Hall, thesecretary. He had been reached by telephone, and had come out from NewYork, arriving shortly after I had left the Crawford house. 

Mr. Hall was what may be termed the average type of young Americancitizens. He was fairly good-looking, fairly well-groomed, and so faras I could judge from his demeanor, fairly well-bred. His dark hair wascommonplace, and parted on the side, while his small, carefully arrangedmustache was commonplace also. He looked exactly what he was, thetrusted secretary of a financial magnate, and he seemed to me a manwhose dress, manner, and speech would always be made appropriate to theoccasion or situation. In fact, so thoroughly did he exhibit just sucha demeanor as suited a confidential secretary at the inquest of hismurdered employer, that I involuntarily thought what a fine undertakerhe would have made. For, in my experience, no class of men so perfectlyadapt themselves to varying atmospheres as undertakers. 

Philip Crawford and his son, an athletic looking young chap, were alsoin this group. Young Crawford inherited to a degree the fine appearanceof his father and uncle, and bade fair to become the same kind of afirst-class American citizen as they. 

Behind these people, the ones most nearly interested in the procedure, were gathered the several servants of the house. 

Lambert, the butler, was first interviewed. 

The man was a somewhat pompous, middle-aged Englishman, and though ofstolid appearance, his face showed what might perhaps be described as anintelligent stupidity. 

After a few formal questions as to his position in the household, thecoroner asked him to tell his own story of the early morning. 

In a more clear and concise way than I should have thought the mancapable of, he detailed his discovery of his master's body. 

"I came down-stairs at seven this morning, " he said, "as I always do. Iopened the house, I saw the cook a few moments about matters pertainingto breakfast, and I attended to my usual duties. At about half-pastseven I went to Mr. Crawford's office, to set it in order for the day, and as I opened the door I saw him sitting in his chair. At first Ithought he'd dropped asleep there, and been there all night, then in amoment I saw what had happened. "

"Well, what did you do next?" asked the coroner, as the man paused. 

"I went in search of Louis, Mr. Crawford's valet. He was just comingdown the stairs. He looked surprised, for he said Mr. Crawford was notin his room, and his bed hadn't been slept in. "

"Did he seem alarmed?"

"No, sir. Not knowing what I knew, he didn't seemed alarmed. But heseemed agitated, for of course it was most unusual not finding Mr. Crawford in his own room. "

"How did Louis show his agitation?" broke in Mr. Orville. 

"Well, sir, perhaps he wasn't to say agitated, --he looked more blank, yes, as you might say, blank. "

"Was he trembling?" persisted Mr. Orville, "was he pale?" and thecoroner frowned slightly at this juror's repeated inquisitiveness. 

"Louis is always pale, " returned the butler, seeming to make an effortto speak the exact truth. 

"Then of course you couldn't judge of his knowledge of the matter, " Mr. Orville said, with an air of one saying something of importance. 

"He had no knowledge of the matter, if you mean Mr. Crawford's death, "said Lambert, looking disturbed and a little bewildered. 

"Tell your own story, Lambert, " said Coroner Monroe, rather crisply. "We'll hear what Louis has to say later. "

"Well, sir, then I took Louis to the office, and we both saw the--theaccident, and we wondered what to do. I was for telephoning right offto Doctor Fairchild, but Louis said first we'd better tell Miss Florenceabout it. "

"And did you?"

"We went out in the hall, and just then Elsa, Miss Lloyd's maid, was onthe stairs. So we told her, and told her to tell Miss Lloyd, and ask herfor orders. Well, her orders was for us to call up Doctor Fairchild, and so we did. He came as soon as he could, and he's been in charge eversince, sir. "

"A straightforward story, clearly told, " observed the coroner, and thenhe called upon Louis, the valet. This witness, a young Frenchman, wasfar more nervous and excited than the calm-mannered butler, but the gistof his story corroborated Lambert's. 

Asked if he was not called upon to attend his master at bedtime, hereplied, "Non, M'sieu; when Monsieur Crawford sat late in his library, or hisoffice, he dismiss me and say I may go to bed, or whatever I like. Almost alway he tell me that. "

"And he told you this last night?"

"But yes. When I lay out his clothes for dinner, he then tell me so. "

Although the man seemed sure enough of his statements he was evidentlytroubled in his mind. It might have been merely that his French naturewas more excitable than the stolid indifference of the English butler. But at the same time I couldn't help feeling that the man had nottold all he knew. This was merely surmise on my part, and I could notpersuade myself that there was enough ground for it to call it even anintuition. So I concluded it best to ask no questions of the valet atpresent, but to look into his case later. 

Parmalee, however, seemed to have concluded differently. He looked atLouis with an intent gaze as he said, "Had your master said or doneanything recently to make you think he was despondent or troubled in anyway?"

"No, sir, " said the man; but the answer was not spontaneous, and Louis'seyes rolled around with an expression of fear. I was watching himclosely myself, and I could not help seeing that against his will hisglance sought always Florence Lloyd, and though he quickly averted it, he was unable to refrain from furtive, fleeting looks in her direction. 

"Do you know anything more of this matter than you have told us?"inquired the coroner of the witness. 

"No, sir, " replied Louis, and this time he spoke as with more certainty. "After Lambert and I came out of Mr. Crawford's office, we did justexactly as Lambert has tell you. "

"That's all, Louis.... But, Lambert, one other matter. Tell us all youknow of Mr. Joseph Crawford's movements last evening. "

"He was at dinner, as usual, sir, " said the butler, in his monotonousdrawl. "There were no guests, only the family. After dinner Mr. Crawfordwent out for a time. He returned about nine o'clock. I saw him come in, with his own key, and I saw him go to his office. Soon after Mr. Portercalled. "

"Mr. Lemuel Porter?" asked the coroner. 

"Yes, sir, " said the butler; and Mr. Porter, who was one of the jurors, gravely nodded his head in acquiescence. 

"He stayed until about ten, I should say, " went on the butler, and againMr. Porter gave an affirmative nod. "I let him out myself, " went onLambert, "and soon after that I went to the library to see if Mr. Crawford had any orders for me. He told me of some household matters hewished me to attend to to-day, and then he said he would sit up forsome time longer, and I might go to bed if I liked. A very kind andconsiderate man, sir, was Mr. Crawford. "

"And did you then go to bed?"

"Yes, sir. I locked up all the house, except the office. Mr. Crawfordalways locks those windows himself, when he sits up late. The ladieshad already gone to their rooms; Mr. Hall was away for the night, soI closed up the front of the house, and went to bed. That's all I knowabout the matter, sir--until I came down-stairs this morning. "

"You heard no sound in the night--no revolver shot?"

"No, sir. But my room is on the third floor, and at the other end of thehouse, sir. I couldn't hear a shot fired in the office, I'm sure, sir. "

"And you found no weapon of any sort in the office this morning?"

"No, sir; Louis and I both looked for that, but there was none in theroom. Of that I'm sure, sir. "

"That will do, Lambert. "

"Yes, sir; thank you, sir. "

"One moment, " said I, wishing to know the exact condition of the houseat midnight. "You say, Lambert, you closed up the front of the house. Does that mean there was a back door open?"

"It means I locked the front door, sir, and put the chain on. Thelibrary door opening on to the veranda I did not lock, for, as I said, Mr. Crawford always locks that and the windows in there when he is therelate. The back door I left on the night latch, as Louis was spending theevening out. "

"Oh, Louis was spending the evening out, was he?" exclaimed Mr. Orville. "I think that should be looked into, Mr. Coroner. Louis said nothing ofthis in his testimony. "

Coroner Monroe turned again to Louis and asked him where he was theevening before. 

The man was now decidedly agitated, but by an effort he controlledhimself and answered steadily enough:

"I have tell you that Mr. Crawford say I may go wherever I like. And so, last evening I spend with a young lady. "

"At what time did you go out?"

"At half after the eight, sir. "

"And what time did you return?"

"I return about eleven. "

"And did you then see a light in Mr. Crawford's office?"

Louis hesitated a moment. It could easily be seen that he was pausingonly to enable himself to speak naturally and clearly, but it was onlyafter one of those darting glances at Miss Lloyd that he replied:

"I could not see Mr. Crawford's office, because I go around the otherside of the house. I make my entree by the back door; I go straight tomy room, and I know nothing of my master until I go to his room thismorning and find him not there. "

"Then you didn't go to his room last night on your return?"

"As I pass his door, I see it open, and his light low, so I know he isstill below stair. "

"And you did not pass by the library on your way round the house?"

Louis's face turned a shade whiter than usual, but he said distinctly, though in a low voice, "No, sir. "

An involuntary gasp as of amazement was heard, and though I lookedquickly at Miss Lloyd, it was not she who had made the sound. It was oneof the maidservants, a pretty German girl, who sat behind Miss Lloyd. Noone else seemed to notice it, and I realized it was not surprising thatthe strain of the occasion should thus disturb the girl. 

"You heard Louis come in, Lambert?" asked Mr. Monroe, who was conductingthe whole inquiry in a conversational way, rather than as a formalinquest. 

"Yes, sir; he came in about eleven, and went directly to his room. "

The butler stood with folded hands, a sad expression in his eyes, butwith an air of importance that seemed to be inseparable from him, in anycircumstances. 

Doctor Fairchild was called as the next witness. 

He testified that he had been summoned that morning at about quarterbefore eight o'clock. He had gone immediately to Mr. Crawford's house, was admitted by the butler, and taken at once to the office. He foundMr. Crawford dead in his chair, shot through the left temple with athirty-two calibre revolver. 

"Excuse me, " said Mr. Lemuel Porter, who, with the other jurors, waslistening attentively to all the testimony. "If the weapon was notfound, how do you know its calibre?"

"I extracted the bullet from the wound, " returned Doctor Fairchild, "andthose who know have pronounced it to be a ball fired from a small pistolof thirty-two calibre. "

"But if Mr. Crawford had committed suicide, the pistol would have beenthere, " said Mr. Porter; who seemed to be a more acute thinker than theother jurymen. 

"Exactly, " agreed the coroner. "That's why we must conclude that Mr. Crawford did not take his own life. "

"Nor would he have done so, " declared Doctor Fairchild. "I have knownthe deceased for many years. He had no reason for wishing to end hislife, and, I am sure, no inclination to do so. He was shot by an alienhand, and the deed was probably committed at or near midnight. "

"Thus we assume, " the coroner went on, as the doctor finished his simplestatement and resumed his seat, "that Mr. Crawford remained in hisoffice, occupied with his business matters, until midnight or later, when some person or persons came into his room, murdered him, and wentaway again, without making sufficient noise or disturbance to arouse thesleeping household. "

"Perhaps Mr. Crawford himself had fallen asleep in his chair, " suggestedone of the jurors, --the Mr. Orville, who was continually taking notes inhis little book. 

"It is possible, " said the doctor, as the remark was practicallyaddressed to him, "but not probable. The attitude in which the body wasfound indicates that the victim was awake, and in full possession of hisfaculties. Apparently he made no resistance of any sort. "

"Which seems to show, " said the coroner, "that his assailant was not aburglar or tramp, for in that case he would surely have risen and triedto put him out. The fact that Mr. Crawford was evidently shot by aperson standing in front of him, seems to imply that that person'sattitude was friendly, and that the victim had no suspicion of thedanger that threatened him. "

This was clear and logical reasoning, and I looked at the coroner inadmiration, until I suddenly remembered Parmalee's hateful suspicion andwondered if Coroner Monroe was preparing for an attack upon Miss Lloyd. 

Gregory Hall was summoned next. 

He was self-possessed and even cool in his demeanor. There was a frankmanner about him that pleased me, but there was also a something whichrepelled me. 

I couldn't quite explain it to myself, but while he had an air ofextreme straightforwardness, there was also an indefinable effectof reserve. I couldn't help feeling that if this man had anything toconceal, he would be quite capable of doing so under a mask of greatoutspokenness. 

But, as it turned out, he had nothing either to conceal or reveal, forhe had been away from West Sedgwick since six o'clock the night before, and knew nothing of the tragedy until he heard of it by telephone at Mr. Crawford's New York office that morning about half-past ten. Thismade him of no importance as a witness, but Mr. Monroe asked him a fewquestions. 

"You left here last evening, you say?"

"On the six o'clock train to New York, yes. "

"For what purpose?"

"On business for Mr. Crawford. "

"Did that business occupy you last evening?"

Mr. Hall looked surprised at this question, but answered quietly

"No; I was to attend to the business to-day. But I often go to New Yorkfor several days at a time. "

"And where were you last evening?" pursued the coroner. 

This time Mr. Hall looked more surprised still, and said

"As it has no bearing on the matter in hand, I prefer not to answer thatrather personal question. "

Mr. Monroe looked surprised in his turn, and said: "I think I mustinsist upon an answer, Mr. Hall, for it is quite necessary that we learnthe whereabouts of every member of this household last evening. "

"I cannot agree with you, sir, " said Gregory Hall, coolly; "myengagements for last evening were entirely personal matters, in no wayconnected with Mr. Crawford's business. As I was not in West Sedgwickat the time my late employer met his death, I cannot see that my privateaffairs need be called into question. "

"Quite so, quite so, " put in Mr. Orville; but Lemuel Porter interruptedhim. 

"Not at all so. I agree with Mr. Monroe, that Mr. Hall should franklytell us where he spent last evening. "

"And I refuse to do so, " said Mr. Hall, speaking not angrily, but withgreat decision. 

"Your refusal may tend to direct suspicion toward yourself, Mr. Hall, "said the coroner. 

Gregory Hall smiled slightly. "As I was out of town, your suggestionsounds a little absurd. However, I take that risk, and absolutely refuseto answer any questions save those which relate to the matter in hand. "

Coroner Monroe looked rather helplessly at his jurors, but as none ofthem said anything further, he turned again to Gregory Hall. 

"The telephone message you received this morning, then, was the firstknowledge you had of Mr. Crawford's death?"

"It was. "

"And you came out here at once?"

"Yes; on the first train I could catch. "

"I am sorry you resent personal questions, Mr. Hall, for I must ask yousome. Are you engaged to Mr. Crawford's niece, Miss Lloyd?"

"I am. "

This answer was given in a low, quiet tone, apparently without emotionof any kind, but Miss Lloyd showed, a different attitude. At thewords of Gregory Hall, she blushed, dropped her eyes, fingered herhandkerchief nervously, and evinced just such embarrassment as might beexpected from any young woman, in the event of a public mention of herbetrothal. And yet I had not looked for such an exhibition from FlorenceLloyd. Her very evident strength of character would seem to preclude theactions of an inexperienced debutante. 

"Did Mr. Crawford approve of your engagement to his niece?" pursued Mr. Monroe. 

"With all due respect, Mr. Coroner, " said Gregory Hall, in his subduedbut firm way, "I cannot think these questions are relevant or pertinent. Unless you can assure me that they are, I prefer not to reply. "

"They are both relevant and pertinent to the matter in hand, Mr. Hall;but I am now of the opinion that they would better be asked of anotherwitness. You are excused. I now call Miss Florence Lloyd. "

V. FLORENCE LLOYD

A stir was perceptible all through the room as Miss Lloyd acknowledgedby a bow of her beautiful head the summons of the coroner. 

The jurors looked at her with evident sympathy and admiration, and Iremembered that as they were fellow-townsmen and neighbors they probablyknew the young woman well, and she was doubtless a friend of their owndaughters. 

It seemed as if such social acquaintance must prejudice them in herfavor, and perhaps render them incapable of unbiased judgment, shouldher evidence be incriminating. But in my secret heart, I confess, I feltglad of this. I was glad of anything that would keep even a shadow ofsuspicion away from this girl to whose fascinating charm I had alreadyfallen a victim. 

Nor was I the only one in the room who dreaded the mere thought of MissLloyd's connection with this horrible matter. 

Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Porter were, I could see, greatly concerned lestsome mistaken suspicion should indicate any doubt of the girl. I couldsee by their kindly glances that she was a favorite, and was absolutelyfree from suspicion in their minds. 

Mr. Orville had not quite the same attitude. Though he looked at MissLloyd admiringly, I felt sure he was alertly ready to pounce uponanything that might seem to connect her with a guilty knowledge of thiscrime. 

Gregory Hall's attitude was inexplicable, and I concluded I had yet muchto learn about that young man. He looked at Miss Lloyd critically, andthough his glance could not be called quite unsympathetic, yet it showedno definite sympathy. He seemed to be coldly weighing her in his ownmental balance, and he seemed to await whatever she might be about tosay with the impartial air of a disinterested judge. Though a strangermyself, my heart ached for the young woman who was placed so suddenly insuch a painful position, but Gregory Hall apparently lacked any personalinterest in the case. 

I felt sure this was not true, that he was not really so unconcerned ashe appeared; but I could not guess why he chose to assume an impassivemask. 

Miss Lloyd had not risen as it was not required of her, and she satexpectant, but with no sign of nervousness. Mrs. Pierce, her companion, was simply quivering with agitation. Now and again she would touch MissLloyd's shoulder or hand, or whisper a word of encouragement, or perhapswring her own hands in futile despair. 

Of course these demonstrations were of little avail, nor did it seem asif Florence Lloyd needed assistance or support. 

She gave the impression not only of general capability in managing herown affairs, but of a special strength in an emergency. 

And an emergency it was; for though the two before-mentioned jurors, whohad been intimate friends of her uncle, were doubtless in sympathy withMiss Lloyd, and though the coroner was kindly disposed toward her, yetthe other jurors took little pains to conceal their suspicious attitude, and as for Mr. Parmalee, he was fairly eager with anticipation of therevelations about to come. 

"Your name?" said the corner briefly, as if conquering his own sympathyby an unnecessarily formal tone. 

"Florence Lloyd, " was the answer. 

"Your position in this house?"

"I am the niece of Mrs. Joseph Crawford, who died many years ago. Sinceher death I have lived with Mr. Crawford, occupying in every respect theposition of his daughter, though not legally adopted as such. "

"Mr. Crawford was always kind to you?"

"More than kind. He was generous and indulgent, and, though not of anaffectionate nature, he was always courteous and gentle. "

"Will you tell us of the last time you saw him alive?"

Miss Lloyd hesitated. She showed no embarrassment, no trepidation; shemerely seemed to be thinking. 

Her gaze slowly wandered over the faces of the servants, Mrs. Pierce, Mr. Philip Crawford, the jurors, and, lastly, dwelt for a moment on thenow anxious, worried countenance of Gregory Hall. 

Then she said slowly, but in an even, unemotional voice: "It was lastnight at dinner. After dinner was over, my uncle went out, and before hereturned I had gone to my room. "

"Was there anything unusual about his appearance or demeanor atdinner-time?"

"No; I noticed nothing of the sort. "

"Was he troubled or annoyed about any matter, that you know of?"

"He was annoyed about one matter that has been annoying him for sometime: that is, my engagement to Mr. Hall. "

Apparently this was the answer the coroner had expected, for he noddedhis head in a satisfied way. 

The jurors, too, exchanged intelligent glances, and I realized that theacquaintances of the Crawfords were well informed as to Miss Lloyd'sromance. 

"He did not approve of that engagement?" went on the coroner, though heseemed to be stating a fact, rather than asking a question. 

"He did not, " returned Miss Lloyd, and her color rose as she observedthe intense interest manifest among her hearers. 

"And the subject was discussed at the dinner table?"

"It was. "

"What was the tenor of the conversation?"

"To the effect that I must break the engagement. "

"Which you refused to do?"

"I did. "

Her cheeks were scarlet now, but a determined note had crept intoher voice, and she looked at her betrothed husband with an air ofaffectionate pride that, it seemed to me, ought to lift any man into theseventh heaven. But I noted Mr. Hall's expression with surprise. Insteadof gazing adoringly at this girl who was thus publicly proving herdevotion to him, he sat with eyes cast down, and frowning--positivelyfrowning--while his fingers played nervously with his watch-chain. 

Surely this case required my closest attention, for I place far moreconfidence in deductions from facial expression and tones of the voice, than from the discovery of small, inanimate objects. 

And if I chose to deduce from facial expressions I had ample scope inthe countenances of these two people. 

I was particularly anxious not to jump at an unwarrantable conclusion, but the conviction was forced upon me then and there that these twopeople knew more about the crime than they expected to tell. I certainlydid not suspect either of them to be touched with guilt, but I wasequally sure that they were not ingenuous in their testimony. 

While I knew that they were engaged, having heard it from both of them, I could not think that the course of their love affair was runningsmoothly. I found myself drifting into idle speculation as to whetherthis engagement was more desired by one than the other, and if so, bywhich. 

But though I could not quite understand these two, it gave me no troubleto know which I admired more. At the moment, Miss Lloyd seemed to me torepresent all that was beautiful, noble and charming in womanhood, while Gregory Hall gave me the impression of a man crafty, selfish andundependable. However, I fully realized that I was theorizing withoutsufficient data, and determinedly I brought my attention back to thecoroner's catalogue of questions. 

"Who else heard this conversation, besides yourself, Miss Lloyd?"

"Mrs. Pierce was at the table with us, and the butler was in the roommuch of the time. "

The purport of the coroner's question was obvious. Plainly he meant thatshe might as well tell the truth in the matter, as her testimony couldeasily be overthrown or corroborated. 

Miss Lloyd deliberately looked at the two persons mentioned. Mrs. Piercewas trembling as with nervous apprehension, but she looked steadily atMiss Lloyd, with eyes full of loyalty and devotion. 

And yet Mrs. Pierce was a bit mysterious also. If I could read her facearight, it bore the expression of one who would stand by her friendwhatever might come. If she herself had had doubts of Florence Lloyd'sintegrity, but was determined to suppress them and swear to a belief inher, she would look just as she did now. 

On the other hand the butler, Lambert, who stood with folded arms, gazedstraight ahead with an inscrutable countenance, but his set lips andsquare jaw betokened decision. 

As I read it, Miss Lloyd knew, as she looked, that should she tell anuntruth about that talk at the dinner-table, Mrs. Pierce would repeatand corroborate her story; but Lambert would refute her, and would stateveraciously what his master had said. Clearly, it was useless to attempta false report, and, with a little sigh, Miss Lloyd seemed to resignherself to her fate, and calmly awaited the coroner's further questions. 

But though still calm, she had lost her poise to some degree. The lackof responsive glances from Gregory Hall's eyes seemed to perplex her. The eager interest of the six jurymen made her restless and embarrassed. The coroner's abrupt questions frightened her, and I feared herself-enforced calm must sooner or later give way. 

And now I noticed that Louis, the valet, was again darting thoseuncontrollable glances toward her. And as the agitated Frenchmanendeavored to control his own countenance, I chanced to observe that thepretty-faced maid I had noticed before, was staring fixedly at Louis. Surely there were wheels within wheels, and the complications of thismatter were not to be solved by the simple questions of the coroner. Butof course this preliminary examination was necessary, and it was fromthis that I must learn the main story, and endeavor to find out thesecrets afterward. 

"What was your uncle's response when you refused to break yourengagement to Mr. Hall?" was the next inquiry. 

Again Miss Lloyd was silent for a moment, while she directed her gazesuccessively at several individuals. This time she favored Mr. Randolph, who was Mr. Crawford's lawyer, and Philip Crawford, the dead man'sbrother. After looking in turn at these two, and glancing for a momentat Philip Crawford's son, who sat by his side, she said, in a lowervoice than she had before used, "He said he would change his will, and leave none of his fortune to me. "

"His will, then, has been made in your favor?"

"Yes; he has always told me I was to be sole heiress to his estate, except for some comparatively small bequests. "

"Did he ever threaten this proceeding before?"

"He had hinted it, but not so definitely. "

"Did Mr. Hall know of Mr. Crawford's objection to his suit?"

"He did. "

"Did he know of your uncle's hints of disinheritance?"

"He did. "

"What was his attitude in the matter?"

Florence Lloyd looked proudly at her lover. 

"The same as mine, " she said. "We both regretted my uncle's protest, butwe had no intention of letting it stand in the way of our happiness. "

Still Gregory Hall did not look at his fiancee. He sat motionless, preoccupied, and seemingly lost in deep thought, oblivious to all thatwas going on. 

Whether his absence from Sedgwick at the time of the murder made himfeel that he was in no way implicated, and so the inquiry held nointerest for him; or whether he was looking ahead and wondering whitherthese vital questions were leading Florence Lloyd, I had no meansof knowing. Certainly, he was a man of most impassive demeanor andmarvellous self-control. 

"Then, in effect, you defied your uncle?"

"In effect, I suppose I did; but not in so many words. I always tried tourge him to see the matter in a different light. "

"What was his objection to Mr. Hall as your husband?"

"Must I answer that?"

"Yes; I think so; as I must have a clear understanding of the wholeaffair. "

"Well, then, he told me that he had no objection to Mr. Hall, personally. But he wished me to make what he called a more brilliantalliance. He wanted me to marry a man of greater wealth and socialposition. "

The scorn in Miss Lloyd's voice for her uncle's ambitions was sounmistakable that it made her whole answer seem a compliment to Mr. Hall, rather than the reverse. It implied that the sterling worth ofthe young secretary was far more to be desired than the riches and rankadvocated by her uncle. This time Gregory Hall looked at the speakerwith a faint smile, that showed appreciation, if not adoration. 

But I did not gather from his attitude that he did not adore hisbeautiful bride-to-be; I only concluded that he was not one to show hisfeelings in public. 

However, I couldn't help feeling that I had learned which of the two wasmore anxious for the engagement to continue. 

"In what way was your uncle more definite in his threat last night, thanhe had been heretofore?" the coroner continued. 

Miss Lloyd gave a little gasp, as if the question she had been dreadinghad come at last. She looked at the inexorable face of the butler, shelooked at Mr. Randolph, and then flashed a half-timid glance at Hall, asshe answered, "He said that unless I promised to give up Mr. Hall, he would go lastnight to Mr. Randolph's and have a new will drawn up. "

"Did he do so?" exclaimed Gregory Hall, an expression almost of fearappearing on his commonplace face. 

Miss Lloyd looked at him, and seemed startled. Apparently his suddenquestion had surprised her. 

Mr. Monroe paid no attention to Mr. Hall's remark, but said to MissLloyd, "He had made such threats before, had he not?"

"Yes, but not with the same determination. He told me in so many words, I must choose between Mr. Hall or the inheritance of his fortune. "

"And your answer to this?"

"I made no direct answer. I had told him many times that I had nointention of breaking my engagement, whatever course he might choose topursue. "

Mr. Orville was clearly delighted with the turn things were taking. He already scented a sensation, and he scribbled industriously in hisrapidly filling note-book. 

This habit of his disgusted me, for surely the jurors on thispreliminary inquest could come to their conclusions without a detailedaccount of all these conversations. 

I also resented the looks of admiration which Mr. Orville cast at thebeautiful girl. It seemed to me that with the exception of Mr. Hamiltonand Mr. Porter, who were family friends, the jurors should havemaintained a formal and impersonal attitude. 

Mr. Hamilton spoke directly to Miss Lloyd on the subject. 

"I am greatly surprised, " he said, "that Mr. Crawford should take sucha stand. He has often spoken to me of you as his heiress, and to myknowledge, your engagement to Mr. Hall is not of immediately recentdate. "

"No, " said Miss Lloyd, "but it is only recently that my uncle expressedhis disapprobation so strongly; and last night at dinner was the firsttime he positively stated his intention in regard to his will. "

At this Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Porter conversed together in indignantwhispers, and it was quite evident that they did not approve of Mr. Crawford's treatment of his niece. 

Mr. Philip Crawford looked astounded, and also dismayed, which surprisedme, as I had understood that had it not been for Miss Lloyd, he himselfwould have been his brother's heir. 

Mr. Randolph showed only a lawyer-like, noncommittal expression, andGregory Hall, too, looked absolutely impassive. 

The coroner grew more alert, as if he had discovered something ofdefinite import, and asked eagerly, "Did he do so? Did he go to his lawyer's and make another will?"

Miss Lloyd's cold calm had returned, and seemed to rebuke the coroner'sexcited interest. 

"I do not know, " she replied. "He went out after dinner, as I have toldyou, but I retired to my bedroom before he came home. "

"And you did not come down-stairs again last night?"

"I did not. "

The words were spoken in a clear, even tone; but something made me doubttheir truth. It was not the voice or inflection; there was no hesitationor stammer, but a sudden and momentary droop of Miss Lloyd's eyelidsseemed to me to give the lie to her words. 

I wondered if Gregory Hall had the same thought, for he slowly raisedhis own eyes and looked at her steadily for the first time since hertestimony began. 

She did not look at him. Instead, she was staring at the butler. Either she had reason to fear his knowledge, or I was fanciful. With anendeavor to shake off these shadows of suspicion, I chanced to lookat Parmalee. To my disgust, he was quite evidently gloating over thedisclosures being made by the witness. I felt my anger rise, and Idetermined then and there that if suspicion of guilt or complicityshould by any chance unjustly light on that brave and lovely girl, Iwould make the effort of my life to clear her from it. 

"You did not come down again, " the coroner went on pointedly, "to askyour uncle if he had changed his will?"

"No, I did not, " she replied, with such a ring of truth in her scornfulvoice, that my confidence returned, and I truly believed her. 

"Then you were not in your uncle's office last evening at all?"

"I was not. "

"Nor through the day?"

She reflected a moment. "No, nor through the day. It chanced I had nooccasion to go in there yesterday at all. "

At these assertions of Miss Lloyd's, the Frenchman, Louis, lookedgreatly disturbed. He tried very hard to conceal his agitation, butit was not at all difficult to read on his face an endeavor to lookundisturbed at what he heard. 

I hadn't a doubt, myself, that the man either knew something that wouldincriminate Miss Lloyd, or that they two had a mutual knowledge of somefact as yet concealed. 

I was surprised that no one else seemed to notice this, but theattention of every one in the room was concentrated on the coroner andthe witness, and so Louis's behavior passed unnoticed. 

At this juncture, Mr. Lemuel Porter spoke with some dignity. 

"It would seem, " he said, "that this concludes Miss Lloyd's evidencein the matter. She has carried the narrative up to the point whereMr. Joseph Crawford went out of his house after dinner. As she herselfretired to her room before his return, and did not again leave her roomuntil this morning, she can have nothing further to tell us bearing onthe tragedy. And as it is doubtless a most painful experience for her, Itrust, Mr. Coroner, that you will excuse her from further questioning. "

"But wait a minute, " Parmalee began, when Mr Hamilton interruptedhim--"Mr. Porter is quite right, " he said; "there is no reason why MissLloyd should be further troubled in this matter. I feel free to adviseher dismissal from the witness stand, because of my acquaintance andfriendship with this household. Our coroner and most of our jurorsare strangers to Miss Lloyd, and perhaps cannot appreciate as I do theterrible strain this experience means to her. "

"You're right Hamilton, " said Mr. Philip Crawford; "I was remiss not tothink of it myself. Mr. Monroe, this is not a formal inquest, and in theinterest of kindness and humanity, I ask you to excuse Miss Lloyd fromfurther questioning for the present. "

I was surprised at the requests of these elderly gentlemen, for thoughit seemed to me that Miss Lloyd's testimony was complete, yet it alsoseemed as if Gregory Hall were the one to show anxiety that she bespared further annoyance. 

However, Florence Lloyd spoke for herself. 

"I am quite willing to answer any further questions, " she said; "I haveanswered all you have asked, and I have told you frankly the truth. Though it is far from pleasant to have my individual affairs thusbrought to notice, I am quite ready to do anything to forward the causeof justice or to aid in any way the discovery of my uncle's murderer. "

"Thank you, " said Mr. Monroe; "I quite appreciate the extremeunpleasantness of your position. But, Miss Lloyd, there are a few morequestions I must ask you. Pardon me if I repeat myself, but I ask youonce more if you did not come down to your uncle's office last eveningafter he had returned from his call on Mr. Randolph. "

As I watched Florence Lloyd I saw that her eyes did not turn towardthe coroner, or toward her fiance, or toward the jury, but she lookedstraight at Louis, the valet, as she replied in clear tones, "I did not. "

VI. THE GOLD BAG

"Is this yours?" asked Mr. Monroe, suddenly whisking into sight thegold-mesh bag. 

Probably his intent had been to startle her, and thus catch her off herguard. If so, he succeeded, for the girl was certainly startled, if onlyat the suddenness of the query. 

"N-no, " she stammered; "it's--it's not mine. "

"Are you sure?" the coroner went on, a little more gently, doubtlessmoved by her agitation. 

"I'm--I'm quite sure. Where did you find it?"

"What size gloves do you wear, Miss Lloyd?"

"Number six. " She said this mechanically, as if thinking of somethingelse, and her face was white. 

"These are number six, " said the coroner, as he took a pair of glovesfrom the bag. "Think again, Miss Lloyd. Do you not own a gold-chain bag, such as this?"

"I have one something like that--or, rather, I did have one. "

"Ah! And what did you do with it?"

"I gave it to my maid, Elsa, some days ago. "

"Why did you do that?"

"Because I was tired of it, and as it was a trifle worn, I had ceased tocare to carry it. "

"Is it not a somewhat expensive trinket to turn over to your maid?"

"No; they are not real gold. At least, I mean mine was not. It was giltover silver, and cost only about twelve or fourteen dollars when new. "

"What did you usually carry in it?"

"What every woman carries in such a bag. Handkerchief, some smallchange, perhaps a vanity-box, gloves, tickets--whatever would be neededon an afternoon's calling or shopping tour. "

"Miss Lloyd, you have enumerated almost exactly the articles in thisbag. "

"Then that is a coincidence, for it is not my bag. "

The girl was entirely self-possessed again, and even a littleaggressive. 

I admit that I did not believe her statements. Of course I could not besure she was telling untruths, but her sudden embarrassment at the firstsight of the bag, and the way in which she regained her self-possession, made me doubt her clear conscience in the matter. 

Parmalee, who had come over and sat beside me, whispered: "Strikingcoincidence, isn't it?"

Although his sarcasm voiced my own thoughts, yet it irritated mehorribly to hear him say it. 

"But ninety-nine women out of a hundred would experience the samecoincidence, " I returned. 

"But the other ninety-eight weren't in the house last night, and shewas. "

At this moment Mrs. Pierce, whom I had suspected of feeling far deeperinterest than she had so far shown, volunteered a remark. 

"Of course that isn't Florence's bag, " she said; "if Florence had goneto her uncle's office last evening, she would have been wearing herdinner gown, and certainly would not carry a street bag. "

"Is this a street bag?" inquired Mr. Monroe, looking with a masculinehelplessness at the gilt bauble. 

"Of course it is, " said Mrs. Pierce, who now that she had found hervoice, seemed anxious to talk. "Nobody ever carries a bag like that inthe house, --in the evening. "

"But, " began Parmalee, "such a thing might have occurred, if Miss Lloydhad had occasion to go to her uncle's office with, we will say, papersor notes. "

Personally I thought this an absurd suggestion, but Mr. Monroe seemed totake it seriously. 

"That might be, " he said, and I could see that momentarily thesuspicions against Florence Lloyd were growing in force and were takingdefinite shape. 

As I noted the expressions, on the various faces, I observed that onlyMr. Philip Crawford and the jurors Hamilton and Porter seemed entirelyin sympathy with the girl. The coroner, Parmalee, and even the lawyer, Randolph, seemed to be willing, almost eager for her to incriminateherself. 

Gregory Hall, who should have been the most sympathetic of all, seemedthe most coldly indifferent, and as for Mrs. Pierce, her actions were soerratic and uncertain, no one could tell what she thought. 

"You are quite positive it is not your bag?" repeated the coroner oncemore. 

"I'm positive it is not mine, " returned Miss Lloyd, without undueemphasis, but with an air of dismissing the subject. 

"Is your maid present?" asked the coroner. "Let her be summoned. "

Elsa came forward, the pretty, timid young girl, of German effects, whomI had already noticed. 

"Have you ever seen this bag before?" asked the coroner, holding it upbefore her. 

"Yes, sir. "

"When?"

"This morning, sir. Lambert showed it to me, sir. He said he found it inMr. Crawford's office. "

The girl was very pale, and trembled pitiably. She seemed afraid of thecoroner, of Lambert, of Miss Lloyd, and of the jury. It might havebeen merely the unreasonable fear of an ignorant mind, but it had theappearance of some more definite apprehension. 

Especially did she seem afraid of the man, Louis. Though perhaps thedistressed glances she cast at him were not so much those of fear as ofanxiety. 

The coroner spoke kindly to her, and really seemed to take more noticeof her embarrassment, and make more effort to put her at her ease thanhe had done with Miss Lloyd. 

"Is it Miss Lloyd's bag?"

"I don't think so, sir. "

"Don't you know? As her personal maid, you must be acquainted with herbelongings. "

"Yes, sir. No, it isn't hers, sir. "

But as this statement was made after a swift but noticeable glance ofinquiry at her mistress, a slight distrust of Elsa formed in my ownmind, and probably in the minds of others. 

"She has one like this, has she not?"

"She--she did have, sir; but she--she gave it to me. "

"Yes? Then go and get it and let us see it. "

"I haven't it now, sir. I--I gave it away. "

"Oh, you gave it away! To whom? Can you get it back?"

"No, sir; I gave it to my cousin, who sailed for Germany last week. "

Miss Lloyd looked up in surprise, and that look of surprise told againsther. I could see Parmalee's eyes gleam as he concluded in his own mindthat the bag story was all false, was made up between mistress and maid, and that the part about the departing cousin was an artistic touch addedby Elsa. 

The coroner, too, seemed inclined to disbelieve the present witness, andhe sat thoughtfully snapping the catch of the bag. 

He turned again to Miss Lloyd. "Having given away your own bag, " hesaid suavely, "you have perhaps provided yourself with another, have younot?"

"Why, no, I haven't, " said Florence Lloyd. "I have been intending to doso, and shall get one shortly, but I haven't yet selected it. "

"And in the meantime you have been getting along without any?"

"A gold-mesh bag is not an indispensable article; I have several bags ofother styles, and I'm in no especial haste to purchase a new one. "

Miss Lloyd's manner had taken on several degrees of hauteur, and hervoice was incisive in its tone. Clearly she resented this discussion ofher personal belongings, and as she entirely repudiated the ownership ofthe bag in the coroner's possession, she was annoyed at his questions. 

Mr. Monroe looked at her steadily. 

"If this is not your bag, Miss Lloyd, " he said, with some asperity, "how did it get on Mr. Crawford's desk late last night? The butler hasassured me it was not there when he looked in at a little after teno'clock. Yet this morning it lay there, in plain sight on the desk. Whose bag is it?"

"I have not the slightest idea, " said Miss Lloyd firmly; "but, I repeat, it is not mine. "

"Easy enough to see the trend of Monroe's questions, " said Parmalee inmy ear. "If he can prove this bag to be Miss Lloyd's, it shows thatshe was in the office after ten o'clock last night, and this she hasdenied. "

"Don't you believe her?" said I. 

"Indeed I don't. Of course she was there, and of course it's her bag. She put that pretty maid of hers up to deny it, but any one could seethe maid was lying, also. "

"Oh, come now, Parmalee, that's too bad! You've no right to say suchthings!"

"Oh, pshaw! you think the same yourself, only you think it isn'tchivalrous to put it into words. "

Of course what annoyed me in Parmalee's speech was its inherent truth. Ididn't believe Florence Lloyd. Much as I wanted to, I couldn't; for theappearance, manner and words of both women were not such as to inspirebelief in their hearers. 

If she and Elsa were in collusion to deny her ownership of the bag, itwould be hard to prove the contrary, for the men-servants could not besupposed to know, and I had no doubt Mrs. Pierce would testify as MissLloyd did on any matter. 

I was sorry not to put more confidence in the truth of the testimonyI was hearing, but I am, perhaps, sceptical by nature. And, too, ifFlorence Lloyd were in any way implicated in the death of her uncle, Ifelt pretty sure she would not hesitate at untruth. 

Her marvellous magnetism attracted me strongly, but it did not blind meto the strength of her nature. While I could not, as yet, believe her inany way implicated in the death of her uncle, I was fully convinced sheknew more concerning it than she had told and I knew, unless forced to, she would not tell what she desired to keep secret. 

My sympathy, of course, was with her, but my duty was plain. As adetective, I must investigate fairly, or give up the case. 

At this juncture, I knew the point at issue was the presence of MissLloyd in the office last night, and the two yellow rose petals I hadpicked up on the floor might prove a clue. 

At any rate it was my duty to investigate the point, so taking a cardfrom my pocket I wrote upon it: "Find out if Miss Lloyd wore any flowerslast evening, and what kind. "

I passed this over to Mr. Monroe, and rather enjoyed seeing hismystification as he read it. 

To my surprise he did not question Florence Lloyd immediately, butturned again to the maid. 

"At what time did your mistress go to her room last evening?"

"At about ten o'clock, sir. I was waiting there for her, and so I amsure. "

"Did she at once retire?"

"No, sir. She changed her evening gown for a teagown, and then said shewould sit up for an hour or so and write letters, and I needn't wait. "

"You left her then?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Did Miss Lloyd wear any flowers at dinner last evening?"

"No, sir. There were no guests--only the family. "

"Ah, quite so. But did she, by chance, pin on any flowers after she wentto her room?"

"Why, yes, sir; she did. A box of roses had come for her by a messenger, and when she found them in her room, she pinned one on the lace of herteagown. "

"Yes? And what time did the flowers arrive?"

"While Miss Lloyd was at dinner, sir. I took them from the box and putthem in water, sir. "

"And what sort of flowers were they?"

"Yellow roses, sir. "

"That will do, Elsa. You are excused. "

The girl looked bewildered, and a little embarrassed as she returnedto her place among the other servants, and Miss Lloyd looked a littlebewildered also. 

But then, for that matter, no body understood the reason for thequestions about the flowers, and though most of the jury merely lookedpreternaturally wise on the subject, Mr. Orville scribbled it alldown in his little book. I was now glad to see the man keep up hisindefatigable note-taking. If the reporters or stenographers missed anypoints, I could surely get them from him. 

But from the industry with which he wrote, I began to think he must becomposing an elaborate thesis on yellow roses and their habits. 

Mr. Porter, looking greatly puzzled, observed to the coroner, "I havelistened to your inquiries with interest; and I would like to know what, if any, special importance is attached to this subject of yellow roses. "

"I'm not able to tell you, " replied Mr. Monroe. "I asked these questionsat the instigation of another, who doubtless has some good reason forthem, which he will explain in due time. "

Mr. Porter seemed satisfied with this, and I nodded my head at thecoroner, as if bidding him to proceed. 

But if I had been surprised before at the all but spoken intelligencewhich passed between the two servants, Elsa and Louis, I was more amazednow. They shot rapid glances at each other, which were evidently fullof meaning to themselves. Elsa was deathly white, her lips trembled, andshe looked at the Frenchman as if in terror of her life. But though heglanced at her meaningly, now and then, Louis's anxiety seemed to me tobe more for Florence Lloyd than for her maid. 

But now the coroner was talking very gravely to Miss Lloyd. 

"Do you corroborate, " he was saying, "the statements of your maid aboutthe flowers that were sent you last evening?"

"I do, " she replied. 

"From whom did they come?"

"From Mr. Hall. "

"Mr. Hall, " said, the coroner, turning toward the young man, "how couldyou send flowers to Miss Lloyd last evening if you were in New YorkCity?"

"Easily, " was the cool reply. "I left Sedgwick on the six o'clock train. On my way to the station I stopped at a florist's and ordered some rosessent to Miss Lloyd. If they did not arrive until she was at dinner, theywere not sent immediately, as the florist promised. "

"When did you receive them, Miss Lloyd?"

"They were in my room when I event up there at about ten o'clock lastevening, " she replied, and her face showed her wonderment at theseexplicit questions. 

The coroner's face showed almost as much wonderment, and I said:"Perhaps, Mr. Monroe, I may ask a few questions right here. "

"Certainly, " he replied. 

And thus it was, for the first time in my life, I directly addressedFlorence Lloyd. 

"When you went up to your room at ten o'clock, the flowers were there?"I asked, and I felt a most uncomfortable pounding at my heart because ofthe trap I was deliberately laying for her. But it had to be done, andeven as I spoke, I experienced a glad realization, that if she wereinnocent, my questions could do her no harm. 

"Yes, " she repeated, and for the first time favored me with a look ofinterest. I doubt if she knew my name or scarcely knew why I was there. 

"And you pinned one on your gown?"

"I tucked it in among the laces at my throat, yes. "

"Miss Lloyd, do you still persist in saying you did not go down-stairsagain, to your uncle's office?"

"I did not, " she repeated, but she turned white, and her voice wasscarce more than a whisper. 

"Then, " said I, "how did two petals of a yellow rose happen to be on thefloor in the office this morning?"

VII. YELLOW ROSES

If any one expected to see Miss Lloyd faint or collapse at this crisishe must have been disappointed, and as I had confidently expected sucha scene, I was completely surprised at her quick recovery ofself-possession. 

For an instant she had seemed stunned by my question, and her eyes hadwandered vaguely round the room, as if in a vain search for help. 

Her glance returned to me, and in that instant I gave her an answeringlook, which, quite involuntarily on my part, meant a grave and seriousoffer of my best and bravest efforts in her behalf. Disingenuous shemight be, untruthful she might be, yes, even a criminal she might be, but in any case I was her sworn ally forever. Not that I meant to defeatthe ends of justice, but I was ready to fight for her or with her, untiljustice should defeat us. Of course she didn't know all this, thoughI couldn't help hoping she read a little of it as my eyes looked intohers. If so, she recognized it only by a swift withdrawal of her ownglance. Again she looked round at her various friends. 

Then her eyes rested on Gregory Hall, and, though he gave her noresponsive glance, for some reason her poise returned like a flash. Itwas as if she had been invigorated by a cold douche. 

Determination fairly shone in her dark eyes, and her mouth showed amore decided line than I had yet seen in its red curves, as with a cold, almost hard voice she replied, "I have no idea. We have many flowers in the house, always. "

"But I have learned from the servants that there were no other yellowroses in the house yesterday. "

Miss Lloyd was not hesitant now. She replied quickly, and it was with analmost eager haste that she said, "Then I can only imagine that my uncle had some lady visitor in hisoffice late last evening. "

The girl's mood had changed utterly; her tone was almost flippant, andmore than one of the jurors looked at her in wonderment. 

Mr. Porter, especially, cast an her a glance of fatherly solicitude, andI was sure that he felt, as I did, that the strain was becoming too muchfor her. 

"I don't think you quite mean that, Florence, " he said; "you and I knewyour uncle too well to say such things. "

But the girl made no reply, and her beautiful mouth took on a hard line. 

"It is not an impossible conjecture, " said Philip Crawford thoughtfully. "If the bag does not belong to Florence, what more probable than that itwas left by its feminine owner? The same lady might have worn or carriedyellow roses. "

Perhaps it was because of my own desire to help her that these other menhad joined their efforts to mine to ease the way as much as possible. 

The coroner looked a little uncomfortable, for he began to note the tideof sympathy turning toward the troubled girl. 

"Yellow roses do not necessarily imply a lady visitor, " he said, rathermore kindly. "A man in evening dress might have worn one. "

To his evident surprise, as well as to my own, this remark, intended tobe soothing, had quite the opposite effect. 

"That is not at all probable, " said Miss Lloyd quite angrily. "Mr. Porter was in the office last evening; if he was wearing a yellow roseat the time, let him say so. "

"I was not, " said Mr. Porter quietly, but looking amazed at the suddenoutburst of the girl. 

"Of course you weren't!" Miss Lloyd went on, still in the same excitedway. "Men don't wear roses nowadays, except perhaps at a ball; and, anyway, the gold bag surely implies that a woman was there!"

"It seems to, " said Mr. Monroe; and then, unable longer to keep up herbrave resistance, Florence Lloyd fainted. 

Mrs. Pierce wrung her hands and moaned in a helpless fashion. Elsastarted forward to attend her young mistress, but it was the twoneighbors who were jurors, Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Porter, who carried theunconscious girl from the room. 

Gregory Hall looked concerned, but made no movement to aid, and Imarvelled afresh at such strange actions in a man betrothed to aparticularly beautiful woman. 

Several women in the audience hurried from the room, and in a fewmoments the two jurors returned. 

"Miss Lloyd will soon be all right, I think, " said Mr. Porter to thecoroner. "My wife is with her, and one or two other ladies. I think wemay proceed with our work here. "

There was something about Mr. Lemuel Porter that made men accept hisdictum, and without further remark Mr. Monroe called the next witness, Mr. Roswell Randolph, and a tall man, with an intellectual face, cameforward. 

While the coroner was putting the formal and preliminary questionsto Mr. Randolph, Parmalee quietly drew my attention to a whisperedconversation going on between Elsa and Louis. 

If this girl had fainted instead of Miss Lloyd, I should not have beensurprised for she seemed on the very verge of nervous collapse. Sheseemed, too, to be accusing the man of something, which he vigorouslydenied. The girl interested me far more than the Frenchman. Though ofthe simple, rosy-cheeked type of German, she had an air of canniness andsubtlety that was at variance with her naive effect. I soon concludedshe was far more clever than most people thought, and Parmalee'swhispered words showed that he thought so too. 

"Something doing in the case of Dutch Elsa, eh?" he said; "she andJohnny Frenchy have cooked up something between them. "

"Nothing of any importance, I fancy, " I returned, for Miss Lloyd'sswoon seemed to me a surrender, and I had little hope now of any otherdirection in which to look. 

But I resumed my attention to the coroner's inquiries of Mr. Randolph. 

In answer to a few formal questions, he stated that he had been Mr. Crawford's legal adviser for many years, and had entire charge of allsuch matters as required legal attention. 

"Did you draw up the late Mr. Crawford's will?" asked the coroner. 

"Yes; after the death of his wife--about twelve years ago. "

"And what were the terms of that will?"

"Except for some minor bequests, the bulk of his fortune was bequeathedto Miss Florence Lloyd. "

"Have you changed that will in any way, or drawn a later one?"

"No. "

It was by the merest chance that I was looking at Gregory Hall, as thelawyer gave this answer. 

It required no fine perception to understand the look of relief anddelight that fairly flooded his countenance. To be sure, it was quicklysuppressed, and his former mask of indifference and preoccupationassumed, but I knew as well as if he had put it into words, that he hadtrembled lest Miss Lloyd had been disinherited before her uncle had methis death in the night. 

This gave me many new thoughts, but before I could formulate them, Iheard the coroner going an with his questions. 

"Did Mr. Crawford visit you last evening?"

"Yes; he was at my house for perhaps half an hour or more between eightand nine o'clock. "

"Did he refer to the subject of changing his will?"

"He did. That was his errand. He distinctly stated his intention ofmaking a new will, and asked me to come to his office this morning anddraw up the instrument. "

"But as that cannot now be done, the will in favor of Miss Lloyd stillstands?"

"It does, " said Mr. Randolph, "and I am glad of it. Miss Lloyd has beenbrought up to look upon this inheritance as her own, and while Iwould have used no undue emphasis, I should have tried to dissuade Mr. Crawford from changing his will. "

"But before we consider the fortune or the will, we must proceed withour task of bringing to light the murderer, and avenging Mr. Crawford'sdeath. "

"I trust you will do so, Mr. Coroner, and that speedily. But I maysay, if allowable, that you are on the wrong track when you allow yoursuspicions to tend towards Florence Lloyd. "

"As your opinion, Mr. Randolph, of course that sentiment has someweight, but as a man of law, yourself, you must know that such anopinion must be proved before it can be really conclusive. "

"Yes, of course, " said Mr. Randolph, with a deep sigh. "But let me begof you to look further in search of other indications before you presstoo hard upon Miss Lloyd with the seeming clues you now have. "

I liked Mr. Randolph very much. Indeed it seemed to me that the men ofWest Sedgwick were of a fine class as to both intellect and judgment, and though Coroner Monroe was not a brilliant man, I began to realizethat he had some sterling qualities and was distinctly just and fair inhis decisions. 

As for Gregory Hall, he seemed like a man free from a great anxiety. Though still calm and reserved in appearance, he was less nervous, and quietly awaited further developments. His attitude was not hard tounderstand. Mr. Crawford had objected to his secretary's engagement tohis niece, and now Mr. Crawford's objections could no longer matter. Again, it was not surprising that Mr. Hall should be glad to learn thathis fiancee was the heiress she had supposed herself to he. Even thoughhe were marrying the girl simply for love of her, a large fortune inaddition was by no means to be despised. At any rate, I concluded thatGregory Hall thought so. 

As often happened, Parmalee read my thoughts. "A fortune-hunter, " hemurmured, with a meaning glance at Hall. 

I remembered that Mr. Carstairs, at the inn had said the same thing, andI thoroughly believed it myself. 

"Has he any means of his own?"

"No, " said Parmalee, "except his salary, which was a good one from Mr. Crawford, but of course he's lost that now. "

"I don't feel drawn toward him. I suppose one would call him a gentlemanand yet he isn't manly. "

"He's a cad, " declared Parmalee; "any fortune hunter is a cad, and Idespise him. "

Although I tried to hold my mind impartially open regarding Mr. Hall, I was conscious of an inclination to despise him myself. But I was alsohonest enough to realize that my principal reason for despising him wasbecause he had won the hand of Florence Lloyd. 

I heard Coroner Monroe draw a long sigh. 

Clearly, the man was becoming more and more apprehensive, and reallydreaded to go on with the proceedings, because he was fearful of whatmight be disclosed thereby. 

The gold bag still lay on the table before him; the yellow rose petalswere not yet satisfactorily accounted for; Miss Lloyd's agitationand sudden loss of consciousness, though not surprising in thecircumstances, were a point in her disfavor. And now the revelation thatMr. Crawford was actually on the point of disinheriting his niece madeit impossible to ignore the obvious connection between that fact and theevent of the night. 

But no one had put the thought into words, and none seemed inclined to. 

Mechanically, Mr. Monroe called the next witness on his list, and Mrs. Pierce answered. 

For some reason she chose to stand during her interview, and as sherose, I realized that she was a prim little personage, but of sucha decided nature that she might have been stigmatized by the termstubborn. I had seen such women before; of a certain soft, outwardeffect, apparently pliable and amenable, but in reality, deep, shrewdand clever. 

And yet she was not strong, for the situation in which she found herselfmade her trembling and unstrung. 

When asked by the coroner to tell her own story of the events of theevening before, she begged that he would question her instead. 

Desirous of making it as easy for her as possible, Mr. Monroe acceded toher wishes, and put his questions in a kindly and conversational tone. 

"You were at dinner last night, with Miss Lloyd and Mr. Crawford?"

"Yes, " was the almost inaudible reply, and Mrs. Pierce seemed about tobreak down at the sad recollection. 

"You heard the argument between Mr. Crawford and his niece at the dinnertable?"

"Yes. "

"This resulted in high words on both sides?"

"Well, I don't know exactly what you mean by high words. Mr. Crawfordrarely lost his temper and Florence never. "

"What then did Mr. Crawford say in regard to disinheriting Miss Lloyd?"

"Mr. Crawford said clearly, but without recourse to what may be calledhigh words, that unless Florence would consent to break her engagementhe would cut her off with a shilling. "

"Did he use that expression?"

"He did at first, when he was speaking more lightly; then when Florencerefused to do as he wished he said he would go that very evening to Mr. Randolph's and have a new will made which should disinherit Florence, except for a small annuity. "

"And what did Miss Lloyd reply to this threat?" asked the coroner. 

"She said, " replied Mrs. Pierce, in her plaintive tones, "that her unclemight do as he chose about that; but she would never give up Mr. Hall. "

At this moment Gregory Hall looked more manly than I had yet seen him. 

Though he modestly dropped his eyes at this tacit tribute to hisworthiness, yet he squared his shoulders, and showed a justifiable pridein the love thus evinced for him. 

"Was the subject discussed further?" pursued the coroner. 

"No; nothing more was said about it after that. "

"Will the making of a new will by Mr. Crawfard affect yourself in anyway, Mrs. Pierce?"

"No, " she replied, "Mr. Crawford left me a small bequest in his earlierwill and I had reason to think he would do the same in a later will, even though he changed his intentions regarding Florence. "

"Miss Lloyd thoroughly believed that he intended to carry out his threatlast evening?"

"She didn't say so to me, but Mr. Crawford spoke so decidedly on thematter, that I think both she and I believed he was really going tocarry out his threat at last. "

"When Mr. Crawford left the house, did you and Miss Lloyd know where hewas going?"

"We knew no more than he had said at the table. He said nothing when hewent away. "

"How did you and Miss Lloyd spend the remainder of the evening?"

"It was but a short evening. We sat in the music-room for a time, but atabout ten o'clock we both went up to our rooms. "

"Had Mr. Crawford returned then?"

"Yes, he came in perhaps an hour earlier. We heard him come in at thefront door, and go at once to his office. "

"You did not see him, or speak to him?"

"We did not. He had a caller during the evening. It was Mr. Porter, Ihave since learned. "

"Did Miss Lloyd express no interest as to whether he had changed hiswill or not?"

"Miss Lloyd didn't mention the will, or her engagement, to me at all. Wetalked entirely of other matters. "

"Was Miss Lloyd in her usual mood or spirits?"

"She seemed a little quiet, but not at all what you might call worried. "

"Was not this strange when she was fully expecting to be deprived of herentire fortune?"

"It was not strange for Miss Lloyd. She rarely talks of her own affairs. We spent an evening similar in all respects to our usual evening when wedo not have guests. "

"And you both went upstairs at ten. Was that unusually early for you?"

"Well, unless we have guests, we often go at ten or half-past ten. "

"And did you see Miss Lloyd again that night?"

"Yes; about half an hour later, I went to her room for a book I wanted. "

"Miss Lloyd had not retired?"

"No; she asked me to sit down for awhile and chat. "

"Did you do so?"

"Only for a few moments. I was interested in the book I had come for, and I wanted to take it away to my own room to read. "

"And Miss Lloyd, then, did not seem dispirited or in any way in anunusual mood?"

"Not that I noticed. I wasn't quizzing her or looking into her eyes tosee what her thoughts were, for it didn't occur to me to do so. Iknew her uncle had dealt her a severe blow, but as she didn't openthe subject, of course I couldn't discuss it with her. But I did thinkperhaps she wanted to be by herself to consider the matter, and that wasone reason why I didn't stay and chat as she had asked me to. "

"Perhaps she really wanted to discuss the matter with you. "

"Perhaps she did; but in that case she should have said so. Florenceknows well enough that I am always ready to discuss or sympathize withher in any matter, but I never obtrude my opinions. So as she saidnothing to lead me to think she wanted to talk to me especially, I saidgood-night to her. "

VIII. FURTHER INQUIRY

"Did you happen to notice, Mrs. Pierce, whether Miss Lloyd was wearing ayellow rose when you saw her in her room?"

Mrs. Pierce hesitated. She looked decidedly embarrassed, and seemeddisinclined to answer. But she might have known that to hesitate andshow embarrassment was almost equivalent to an affirmative answer to thecoroner's question. At last she replied, "I don't know; I didn't notice. "

This might have been a true statement, but I think no one in the roombelieved it. The coroner tried again. 

"Try to think, Mrs. Pierce. It is important that we should know if MissLloyd was wearing a yellow rose. "

"Yes, " flared out Mrs. Pierce angrily, "so that you can prove she wentdown to her uncle's office later and dropped a piece of her rose there!But I tell you I don't remember whether she was wearing a rose or not, and it wouldn't matter if she had on forty roses! If Florence Lloyd saysshe didn't go down-stairs, she didn't. "

"I think we all believe in Miss Lloyd's veracity, " said Mr. Monroe, "butit is necessary to discover where those rose petals in the library camefrom. You saw the flowers in her room, Mrs. Pierce?"

"Yes, I believe I did. But I paid no attention to them, as Florencenearly always has flowers in her room. "

"Would you have heard Miss Lloyd if she had gone down-stairs after youleft her?"

"I don't know, " said Mrs. Pierce, doubtfully. 

"Is your room next to hers?"

"No, not next. "

"Is it on the same corridor?"

"No. "

"Around a corner?"

"Yes. "

"And at some distance?"

"Yes. " Mrs. Pierce's answers became more hesitating as she saw the driftof Mr. Monroe's questions. Clearly, she was trying to shield Florence, if necessary, at the expense of actual truthfulness. 

"Then, " went on Mr. Monroe, inexorably, "I understand you to say thatyou think you would have heard Miss Lloyd, had she gone down-stairs, although your room is at a distance and around a corner and the hall andstairs are thickly carpeted. Unless you were listening especially, Mrs. Pierce, I think you would scarcely have heard her descend. "

"Well, as she didn't go down, of course I didn't hear her, " snapped Mrs. Pierce, with the feminine way of settling an argument by an unprovablestatement. 

Mr. Monroe began on another tack. 

"When you went to Miss Lloyd's room, " he said, "was the maid, Elsa, there?"

"Miss Lloyd had just dismissed her for the night. "

"What was Miss Lloyd doing when you went to her room?"

"She was looking over some gowns that she proposed sending to thecleaner's. "

The coroner fairly jumped. He remembered the newspaper clipping of acleaner's advertisement, which was even now in the gold bag before him. Though all the jurors had seen it, it had not been referred to in thepresence of the women. 

Recovering himself at once, he said quietly "Was not that rather workfor Miss Lloyd's maid?"

"Oh, Elsa would pack and send them, of course, " said Mrs. Piercecarelessly. "Miss Lloyd was merely deciding which ones needed cleaning. "

"Do you know where they were to be sent?"

Mrs. Pierce looked a little surprised at this question. 

"Miss Lloyd always sends her things to Carter & Brown's, " she said. 

Now, Carter & Brown was the firm name on the advertisement, and it wasevident at once that the coroner considered this a damaging admission. 

He sat looking greatly troubled, but before he spoke again, Mr. Parmalee made an observation that decidedly raised that young man in myestimation. 

"Well, " he said, "that's pretty good proof that the gold bag doesn'tbelong to Miss Lloyd. "

"How so?" asked the coroner, who had thought quite the contrary. 

"Why, if Miss Lloyd always sends her goods to be cleaned to Carter &Brown, why would she need to cut their address from a newspaper and saveit?"

At first I thought the young man's deduction distinctly clever, buton second thought I wasn't so sure. Miss Lloyd might have wanted thataddress for a dozen good reasons. To my mind, it proved neither herownership of the gold bag, nor the contrary. 

In fact, I thought the most important indication that the bag might behers lay in the story Elsa told about the cousin who sailed to Germany. Somehow that sounded untrue to me, but I was more than willing tobelieve it if I could. 

I longed for Fleming Stone, who, I felt sure, could learn from the bagand its contents the whole truth about the crime and the criminal. 

But I had been called to take charge of the case, and my pride forbademe to call on any one for help. 

I had scorned deductions from inanimate objects, but I resolved to studythat bag again, and study it more minutely. Perhaps there were somethreads or shreds caught in its meshes that might point to its owner. Iremembered a detective story I read once, in which the whole discoveryof the criminal depended on identifying a few dark blue woollen threadswhich were found in a small pool of candle grease on a veranda roof. Asit turned out, they were from the trouser knee of a man who had kneltthere to open a window. The patent absurdity of leaving threads fromone's trouser knee, amused me very much, but the accommodating criminalsin fiction almost always leave threads or shreds behind them. And surelya gold-mesh bag, with its thousands of links would be a fine trap tocatch some threads of evidence, however minute they might be. 

Furthermore I decided to probe further into that yellow rose business. Iwas not at all sure that those petals I found on the floor had anythingto do with Miss Lloyd's roses, but it must be a question possible ofsettlement, if I went about it in the right way. At any rate, thoughI had definite work ahead of me, my duty just now was to listen to theforthcoming evidence, though I could not help thinking I could have putquestions more to the point than Mr. Monroe did. 

Of course the coroner's inquest was not formally conducted as a trial byjury would be, and so any one spoke, if he chose, and the coroner seemedreally glad when suggestions were offered him. 

At this point Philip Crawford rose. 

"It is impossible, " he said, "not to see whither these questions aretending. But you are on the wrong tack, Mr. Coroner. No matter howevidence may seem to point toward Florence Lloyd's association with thiscrime, it is only seeming. That gold bag might have been hers and itmight not. But if she says it isn't, why, then it isn't! Notwithstandingthe state of affairs between my brother and his niece, there is notthe shadow of a possibility that the young woman is implicated inthe slightest degree, and the sooner you leave her name out ofconsideration, and turn your search into other channels, the sooner youwill find the real criminal. "

It was not so much the words of Philip Crawford, as the sincere way inwhich they were spoken, that impressed me. Surely he was right; surelythis beautiful girl was neither principal nor accessory in the awfulcrime which, by a strange coincidence, gave to her her fortune and herlover. 

"Mr. Crawford's right, " said Lemuel Porter. "If this jury allows itselfto be misled by a gold purse and two petals of a yellow rose, we areunworthy to sit on this case. Why, Mr. Coroner, the long French windowsin the office were open, or, at least, unfastened all through the night. We have that from the butler's testimony. He didn't lock them lastnight; they were found unlocked this morning. Therefore, I hold thatan intruder, either man or woman, may have come in during the night, accomplished the fatal deed, and departed without any one being thewiser. That this intruder was a woman, is evidenced by the bag she leftbehind her. For, as Mr. Crawford has said, if Miss Lloyd denies theownership of that bag, it is not hers. "

After all, these declarations were proof, of a sort. If Mr. Porter andMr. Philip Crawford, who had known Florence Lloyd for years, spoke thuspositively of her innocence, it could not be doubted. 

And then the voice of Parmalee again sounded in my ears. 

"Of course Mr. Porter and Mr. Crawford would stand up for Miss Lloyd; itwould be strange if they didn't. And of course, Mrs. Pierce will do allshe can to divert suspicion. But the evidences are against her. "

"They only seem to be, " I corrected. "Until we prove the gold bag andthe yellow rose to be hers; there is no evidence against her at all. "

"She also had motive and opportunity. Those two points are of quite asmuch importance as evidence. "

"She had motive and opportunity, " I agreed, "but they were notexclusive. As Mr. Porter pointed out, the open windows gave opportunitythat was world wide; and as to motive, how are we to know who had or whohadn't it. "

"You're right, I suppose. Perhaps I am too positive of Miss Lloyd'simplication in the matter, but I'm quite willing to be convinced to thecontrary. "

The remarks of Mr. Parmalee were of course not audible to any one savemyself. But the speeches which had been made by Mr. Crawford and Mr. Porter, and which, strange to say, amounted to an arraignment and avindication almost in the same breath, had a decided effect upon theassembly. 

Mrs. Pierce began to weep silently. Gregory Hall looked startled, asif the mere idea of Miss Lloyd's implication was a new thought to him. Lawyer Randolph looked considerably disturbed, and I at once suspectedthat his legal mind would not allow him to place too much dependence onthe statements of the girl's sympathetic friends. 

Mr. Hamilton, another of the jurors whom I liked, seemed to bethoughtfully weighing the evidence. He was not so well acquainted withMiss Lloyd as the two men who had just spoken in her behalf, and he madea remark somewhat diffidently. 

"I agree, " he said, "with the sentiments just expressed; but I alsothink that we should endeavor to find some further clues or evidence. Had Mr. Crawford any enemies who would come at night to kill him? Or arethere any valuables missing? Could robbery have been the motive?"

"It does not seem so, " replied the coroner. "Nothing is known to bemissing. Mr. Crawford's watch and pocket money were not disturbed. "

"The absence of the weapon is a strange factor in the case, " put in Mr. Orville, apparently desirous of having his voice heard as well as thoseof the other jurors. 

"Yes, " agreed Mr. Monroe; "and yet it is not strange that the criminalcarried away with him what might have been a proof of his identity. "

"Does Miss Lloyd own a pistol?" blurted out Mr. Parmalee. 

Gregory Hall gave him an indignant look, but Coroner Monroe seemedrather glad to have the question raised--probably so that it could besettle at once in the negative. 

And it was. 

"No, " replied Mrs. Pierce, when the query was put to her. "Both Florenceand I are desperately afraid of firearms. We wouldn't dream of owning apistol--either of us. "

Of course, this was significant, but in no way decisive. Granting thatMiss Lloyd could have been the criminal, it would have been possiblefor her secretly to procure a revolver, and secretly to dispose of itafterward. Then, too, a small revolver had been used. To be sure, this did not necessarily imply that a woman had used it, but, taken inconnection with the bag and the rose petals, it gave food for thought. 

But the coroner seemed to think Mrs. Pierce's assertions greatly inMiss Lloyd's favor, and, being at the end of his list of witnesses, heinquired if any one else in the room knew of anything that could throwlight on the matter. 

No one responded to this invitation, and the coroner then directed thejury to retire to find a verdict. The six men passed into another room, and I think no one who awaited their return apprehended any other resultthan the somewhat unsatisfactory one of "person or persons unknown. "

And this was what the foreman announced when the jury returned aftertheir short collocation. 

Then, as a jury, they were dismissed, but from that moment the mysteryof Joseph Crawford's death became the absorbing thought of all WestSedgwick. 

"The murderer of my brother shall be found and brought to justice!"declared Philip Crawford, and all present seemed to echo his vow. 

Then and there, Mr. Crawford retained Lawyer Randolph to help himin running down the villain, and, turning to me, asked to engage myservices also. 

To this, I readily agreed, for I greatly desired to go on with thematter, and cared little whether I worked for an individual or for theState. 

Of course Mr. Crawford's determination to find the murderer proved anewhis conviction that Florence Lloyd was above all suspicion, but in theface of certain details of the evidence so far, I could not feel soabsolutely certain of this. 

However, it was my business to follow up every clue, or apparent clue, and every bit of evidence, and this I made up my mind to do, regardlessof consequences. 

I confess it was difficult for me to feel regardless of consequences, for I had a haunting fear that the future was going to look dark forFlorence Lloyd. And if it should be proved that she was in any wayresponsible for or accessory to this crime, I knew I should wish I hadhad nothing to do with discovering that fact. But back of this was anundefined but insistent conviction that the girl was innocent, andthat I could prove it. This may have been an inordinate faith in my ownpowers, or it may have been a hope born of my admiration for the youngwoman herself. For there is no doubt, that for the first time in my lifeI was taking a serious interest in a woman's personality. HeretoforeI had been a general admirer of womankind, and I had naturally treatedthem all with chivalry and respect. But now I had met one whom I desiredto treat in a far tenderer way, and to my chagrin I realized that I hadno right to entertain such thoughts toward a girl already betrothed. 

So I concluded to try my best to leave Florence Lloyd's personality outof the question, to leave my feelings toward her out of the question, and to devote my energies to real work on the case and prove byintelligent effort that I could learn facts from evidence withoutresorting to the microscopic methods of Fleming Stone. I purposelyignored the fact that I would have been only too glad to use thesemethods had I the power to do so!

IX. THE TWELFTH ROSE

For the next day or two the Crawford house presented the appearanceusual in any home during the days immediately preceding a funeral. 

By tacit consent, all reference to the violence of Mr. Crawford'sdeath was avoided, and a rigorous formality was the keynote of all theceremonies. The servants were garbed in correct mourning, the ladies ofthe house refused to see anybody, and all personal callers were met byPhilip Crawford or his wife, while business acquaintances were receivedby Gregory Hall. 

As private secretary, of course Mr. Hall was in full charge of Mr. Crawford's papers and personal effects. But, in addition to this, as theprospective husband of the heiress, he was practically the head of thehouse. 

He showed no elation or ostentation at this state of affairs, butcarried himself with an air of quiet dignity, tinged with a suggestionof sadness, which, if merely conventional, seemed none the less sincere. 

I soon learned that the whole social atmosphere of West Sedgwick wasone of extreme formality, and everything was done in accordance with themost approved conventions. Therefore, I found I could get no chance fora personal conversation with Miss Lloyd until after the funeral. 

I had, however, more or less talk with Gregory Hall, and as I becameacquainted with him, I liked him less. 

He was of a cold and calculating disposition, and when we were alone, hedid not hesitate to gloat openly over his bright prospects. 

"Terrible thing, to be put out of existence like that, " he said, as wesat in Mr. Crawford's office, looking over some papers; "but it solved abig problem for Florence and me. However, we'll be married as soon as wedecently can, and then we'll go abroad, and forget the tragic part of itall. "

"I suppose you haven't a glimmer of a suspicion as to who did it, " Iventured. 

"No, I haven't. Not the faintest notion. But I wish you could findout. Of course, nobody holds up that bag business as against Florence, but--it's uncomfortable all the same. I wish I'd been here that night. I'm 'most sure I'd have heard a shot, or something. "

"Where were you?" I said, in a careless tone. 

Hall drew himself up stiffly. "Excuse me, " he said. "I declined toanswer that question before. Since I was not in West Sedgwick, it canmatter to no one where I was. "

"Oh, that's all right, " I returned affably, for I had no desire to gethis ill will. "But of course we detectives have to ask questions. By theway, where did you buy Miss Lloyd's yellow roses?"

"See here, " said Gregory Hall, with a petulant expression, "I don't wantto be questioned. I'm not on the witness-stand, and, as I've told you, I'm uncomfortable already about these so-called `clues' that seem toimplicate Miss Lloyd. So, if you please, I'll say nothing. "

"All right, " I responded, "just as you like. "

I went away from the house, thinking how foolish people could be. Icould easily discover where he bought the roses, as there were onlythree florists' shops in West Sedgwick and I resolved to go at once tohunt up the florist who sold them. 

Assuming he would naturally go to the shop nearest the railroad station, and which was also on the way from the Crawford house, I went therefirst, and found my assumption correct. 

The florist was more than willing to talk on the subject. 

"Yes, sir, " he said; "I sold those roses to Mr. Hall--sold 'em to himmyself. He wanted something extra nice, and I had just a dozen of thosebig yellow beauties. No, I don't raise my own flowers. I get 'em fromthe city. And so I had just that dozen, and I sent 'em right up. Well, there was some delay, for two of my boys were out to supper, and Iwaited for one to get back. "

"And you had no other roses just like these in stock?"

"No, sir. Hadn't had for a week or more. Haven't any now. May not getany more at all. They're a scarce sort, at best, and specially so thisyear. "

"And you sent Miss Lloyd the whole dozen?"

"Yes, sir; twelve. I like to put in an extra one or two when I can, butthat time I couldn't. There wasn't another rose like them short of NewYork City. "

I thanked the florist, and, guessing that he was not above it, I gavehim a more material token of my gratitude for his information, and thenwalked slowly back to my room at the inn. 

Since there were no other roses of that sort in West Sedgwick thatevening, it seemed to me as if Florence Lloyd must have gone down to heruncle's office after having pinned the blossom on her bodice. The onlyother possibility was that some intruder had entered by way of theFrench window wearing or carrying a similar flower, and that thisintruder had come from New York, or at least from some place other thanWest Sedgwick. It was too absurd. Murderers don't go about decked withflowers, and yet at midnight a man in evening dress was not impossible, and evening dress might easily imply a boutonniere. 

Well, this well-dressed man I had conjured up in my mind must have comefrom out of town, or else whence the flower, after all?

And then I bethought myself of that late newspaper. An extra, printedprobably as late as eleven o'clock at night, must have been broughtout to West Sedgwick by a traveller on some late train. Why not GregoryHall, himself? I let my imagination run riot for a minute. Mr. Hallrefused to say where he was on the night of the murder. Why not assumethat he had come out from New York, in evening dress, at or aboutmidnight? This would account for the newspaper and the yellow rosepetals, for, if he bought a boutonniere in the city, how probable hewould select the same flower he had just sent his fiancee. 

I rather fancied the idea of Gregory Hall as the criminal. He had thesame motive as Miss Lloyd. He knew of her uncle's objection to theirunion, and his threat of disinheritance. How easy for him to come outlate from New York, on a night when he was not expected, and removeforever the obstacle to his future happiness!

I drew myself up with a start. This was not detective work. This wasmere idle speculation. I must shake it off, and set about collectingsome real evidence. 

But the thought still clung to me; mere speculation it might be, but itwas founded on the same facts that already threw suspicion on FlorenceLloyd. With the exception of the gold bag--and that she disclaimed--suchevidence as I knew of pointed toward Mr. Hall as well as toward MissLloyd. 

However at present I was on the trail of those roses, and I determinedto follow that trail to a definite end. I went back to the Crawfordhouse and as I did not like to ask for Miss Lloyd, I asked for Mrs. Pierce. 

She came down to the drawing room, and greeted me rather more cordiallythan I had dared to hope. I had a feeling that both ladies resented mypresence there, for so many women have a prejudice against detectives. 

But though nervous and agitated, Mrs. Pierce spoke to me kindly. 

"Did you want to see me for anything in particular, Mr. Burroughs?" sheasked. 

"Yes, I do, Mrs. Pierce, " I replied; "I may as well tell you franklythat I want to find out all I can about those yellow roses. "

"Oh, those roses! Shall I never hear the last of them? I assure you, Mr. Burroughs, they're of no importance whatever. "

"That is not for you to decide, " I said quietly, and I began to seethat perhaps a dictatorial attitude might be the best way to manage thislady. "Are the rest of those flowers still in Miss Lloyd's room? If so Iwish to see them. "

"I don't know whether they are or not; but I will find out, and if soI'll bring them down. "

"No, " I said, "I will go with you to see them. "

"But Florence may be in her room. "

"So much the better. She can tell me anything I wish to know. "

"Oh, please don't interview her! I'm sure she wouldn't want to talk withyou. "

"Very well, then ask her to vacate the room, and I will go there withyou now. "

Mrs. Pierce went away, and I began to wonder if I had gone too far orhad overstepped my authority. But it was surely my duty to learn all Icould about Florence Lloyd, and what so promising of suggestions as herown room?

Mrs. Pierce returned in a few moments, and affably enough she asked meto accompany her to Miss Lloyd's room. 

I did so, and after entering devoted my whole attention to the bunch ofyellow roses, which in a glass vase stood on the window seat. Althoughsomewhat wilted, they were still beautiful, and without the slightestdoubt were the kind of rose from which the two tell-tale petals hadfallen. 

Acting upon a sudden thought, I counted them. There were nine, each oneseemingly with its full complement of petals, though of this I could notbe perfectly certain. 

"Now, Mrs. --Pierce, " I said, turning to her with an air of authoritywhich was becoming difficult to maintain, "where are the roses whichMiss Lloyd admits having pinned to her gown?"

"Mercy! I don't know, " exclaimed Mrs. Pierce, looking bewildered. "Isuppose she threw them away. "

"I suppose she did, " I returned; "would she not be likely to throw themin the waste basket?"

"She might, " returned Mrs. Pierce, turning toward an ornate affair ofwicker-work and pink ribbons. 

Sure enough, in the basket, among a few scraps of paper, were twoexceedingly withered yellow roses. I picked them out and examined them, but in their present state it was impossible to tell whether they hadlost any petals or not, so I threw them back in the basket. 

Mrs. Pierce seemed to care nothing for evidence or deduction in thematter, but began to lament the carelessness of the chambermaid who hadnot emptied the waste basket the day before. 

But I secretly blessed the delinquent servant, and began pondering onthis new development of the rose question. The nine roses in the vaseand the two in the basket made but eleven, and the florist had told methat he had sent a dozen. Where was the twelfth?

The thought occurred to me that Miss Lloyd might have put away one as asentimental souvenir, but to my mind she did not seem the kind of a girlto do that. I knew my reasoning was absurd, for what man can predicatewhat a woman will do? but at the same time I could not seem to imaginethe statuesque, imperial Miss Lloyd tenderly preserving a rose that herlover had given her. 

But might not Gregory Hall have taken one of the dozen for himselfbefore sending the rest? This was merely surmise, but it was apossibility, and at any rate the twelfth rose was not in Miss Lloyd'sroom. 

Therefore the twelfth rose was a factor to be reckoned with, a bit ofevidence to be found; and I determined to find it. 

I asked Mrs. Pierce to arrange for me an interview with Miss Lloyd, butthe elder lady seemed doubtful. 

"I'm quite sure she won't see you, " she said, "for she has declared shewill see no one until after the funeral. But if you want me to ask heranything for you, I will do so. "

"Very well, " I said, surprised at her willingness; "please ask MissLloyd if she knows what became of the twelfth yellow rose; and beg herto appreciate the fact that it is a vital point in the case. "

Mrs. Pierce agreed to do this, and as I went down the stairs shepromised to join me in the library a few moments later. 

She kept her promise, and I waited eagerly her report. 

"Miss Lloyd bids me tell you, " she said, "that she knows nothing of whatyou call the twelfth rose. She did not count the roses, she merely tooktwo of them to pin on her dress, and when she retired, she carelesslythrew those two in the waste basket. She thinks it probable therewere only eleven in the box when it arrived. But at any rate she knowsnothing more of the matter. "

I thanked Mrs. Pierce for her courtesy and patience, and feeling that Inow had a real problem to consider, I started back to the inn. 

It could not be that this rose matter was of no importance. For theflorist had assured me he had sold exactly twelve flowers to Mr. GregoryHall, and of these, I could account for only eleven. The twelfth rosemust have been separated from the others, either by Mr. Hall, at thetime of purchase, or by some one else later. If the petals found on thefloor fell from that twelfth rose, and if Florence Lloyd spoke thetruth when she declared she knew nothing of it, then she was free fromsuspicion in that direction. 

But until I could make some further effort to find out about the missingrose I concluded to say nothing of it to anybody. I was not bound totell Parmalee any points I might discover, for though colleagues, wewere working independently of each other. 

But as I was anxious to gather any side lights possible, I determined togo for a short conference with the district attorney, in whose hands thecase had been put after the coroner's inquest. 

He was a man named Goodrich, a quiet mannered, untalkative person, andas might be expected he had made little or no progress as yet. 

He said nothing could be done until after the funeral and the reading ofthe will, which ceremonies would occur the next afternoon. 

I talked but little to Mr. Goodrich, yet I soon discovered that hestrongly suspected Miss Lloyd of the crime, either as principal oraccessory. 

"But I can't believe it, " I objected. "A girl, delicately brought up, in refined and luxurious surroundings, does not deliberately commit anatrocious crime. "

"A woman thwarted in her love affair will do almost anything, " declaredMr. Goodrich. "I have had more experience than you, my boy, and I adviseyou not to bank too much on the refined and luxurious surroundings. Sometimes such things foster crime instead of preventing it. But thetruth will come out, and soon, I think. The evidence that seems to pointto Miss Lloyd can be easily proved or disproved, once we get at the workin earnest. That coroner's jury was made up of men who were friends andneighbors of Mr. Crawford. They were so prejudiced by sympathy for MissLloyd, and indignation at the unknown criminal, that they couldn't giveunbiased judgment. But we will yet see justice done. If Miss Lloyd isinnocent, we can prove it. But remember the provocation she was under. Remember the opportunity she had, to visit her uncle alone in hisoffice, after every one else in the house was asleep. Remember that shehad a motive--a strong motive--and no one else had. "

"Except Mr. Gregory Hall, " I said meaningly. 

"Yes; I grant he had the same motive. But he is known to have left townat six that evening, and did not return until nearly noon the next day. That lets him out. "

"Yes, unless he came back at midnight, and then went back to the cityagain. "

"Nonsense!" said Mr. Goodrich. "That's fanciful. Why, the latesttrain--the theatre train, as we call it--gets in at one o'clock, andit's always full of our society people returning from gayeties in NewYork. He would have been seen had he come on that train, and there is nolater one. "

I didn't stay to discuss the matter further. Indeed, Mr. Goodrich hadmade me feel that my theories were fanciful. 

But whatever my theories might be there were still facts to beinvestigated. 

Remembering my determination to examine that gold bag more thoroughlyI asked Mr. Goodrich to let me see it, for of course, as districtattorney, it was now in his possession. 

He gave it to me with an approving nod. "That's the way to work, " hesaid. "That bag is your evidence. Now from that, you detectives must goahead and learn the truth. "

"Whose bag is it?" I said, with the intention of drawing him out. 

"It's Miss Lloyd's bag, " he said gravely. "Any woman in the worldwould deny its ownership, in the existing circumstances, and I amnot surprised that she did so. Nor do I blame her for doing so. Selfpreservation is a mighty strong impulse in the human heart, and we'veall got a right to obey it. "

As I took the gold bag from his hand, I didn't in the least believe thatFlorence Lloyd was the owner of it, and I resolved anew to prove this tothe satisfaction of everybody concerned. 

Mr. Goodrich turned away and busied himself about other matters, and Idevoted myself to deep study. 

The contents of the bag proved as blank and unsuggestive as ever. Themost exhaustive examination of its chain, its clasp and its thousands oflinks gave me not the tiniest thread or shred of any sort. 

But as I poked and pried around in its lining I found a card, which hadslipped between the main lining and an inside pocket. 

I drew it out as carefully as I could, and it proved to be a small plainvisiting card bearing the engraved name, "Mrs. Egerton Purvis. "

I sat staring at it, and then furtively glanced at Mr. Goodrich. He wasnot observing me, and I instinctively felt that I did not wish him toknow of the card until I myself had given the matter further thought. 

I returned the card to its hiding place and returned the bag to Mr. Goodrich, after which I went away. 

I had not copied the name, for it was indelibly photographed upon mybrain. As I walked along the street I tried to construct the personalityof Mrs. Egerton Purvis from her card. But I was able to make no rationaldeductions, except that the name sounded aristocratic, and was quite inkeeping with the general effect of the bag and its contents. 

To be sure I might have deduced that she was a lady of average heightand size, because she wore a number six glove; that she was careful ofher personal appearance, because she possessed a vanity case; that shewas of tidy habits, because she evidently expected to send her gownsto be cleaned. But all these things seemed to me puerile and evenridiculous, as such characteristics would apply to thousands of womanall over the country. 

Instead of this, I went straight to the telegraph office and wired toheadquarters in a cipher code. I instructed them to learn the identityand whereabouts of Mrs. Egerton Purvis, and advise me as soon aspossible. 

Then I returned to the Sedgwick Arms, feeling decidedly well satisfiedwith my morning's work, and content to wait until after Mr. Crawford'sfuneral to do any further real work in the matter. 

X. THE WILL

I went to the Crawford house on the day of the funeral; but as I reachedthere somewhat earlier than the hour appointed, I went into the officewith the idea of looking about for further clues. 

In the office I found Gregory Hall; looking decidedly disturbed. 

"I can't find Mr. Crawford's will, " he said, as he successively lookedthrough one drawer after another. 

"What!" I responded. "Hasn't that been located already?"

"No; it's this way: I didn't see it here in this office, or in the NewYork office, so I assumed Mr. Randolph had it in his possession. Butit seems he thought it was here, all the time. Only this morning wediscovered our mutual error, and Mr. Randolph concluded it must be inMr. Crawford's safety deposit box at the bank in New York. So Mr. PhilipCrawford hurried through his administration papers--he is to be executorof the estate--and went in to get it from the bank. But he has justreturned with the word that it wasn't there. So we've no idea where itis. "

"Oh, well, " said I, "since he hadn't yet made the new will he had inmind, everything belongs to Miss Lloyd. "

"That's just the point, " said Hall, his face taking on a despairinglook. "If we don't find that will, she gets nothing!"

"How's that?" I said. 

"Why, she's really not related to the Crawfords. She's a niece of JosephCrawford's wife. So in the absence of a will his property will all go tohis brother Philip, who is his legal heir. "

"Oho!" I exclaimed. "This is a new development. But the will will turnup. "

"Oh, yes, I'm sure of it, " returned Hall, but his anxious face showedanything but confidence in his own words. 

"But, " I went on, "didn't Philip Crawford object to his brother's givingall his fortune to Miss Lloyd?"

"It didn't matter if he did. Nobody could move Joseph Crawford'sdetermination. And I fancy Philip didn't make any great disturbanceabout it. Of course, Mr. Joseph had a right to do as he chose with hisown, and the will gave Philip a nice little sum, any way. Not much, compared to the whole fortune, but, still, a generous bequest. "

"What does Mr. Randolph say?"

"He's completely baffled. He doesn't know what to think. "

"Can it have been stolen?"

"Why, no; who would steal it? I only fear he may have destroyed itbecause he expected to make a different one. In that case, Florence ispenniless, save for such bounty as Philip Crawford chooses to bestow onher. "

I didn't like the tone in which Hall said this. It was distinctlyaggrieved, and gave the impression that Florence Lloyd, penniless, was of far less importance than Miss Lloyd, the heiress of her uncle'smillions. 

"But he would doubtless provide properly for her, " I said. 

"Oh, yes, properly. But she would find herself in a very differentposition, dependent on his generosity, from what she would be as soleheir to her uncle's fortune. "

I looked steadily at the man. Although not well acquainted with him, Icouldn't resist giving expression to my thought. 

"But since you are to marry her, " I said, "she need not long bedependent upon her uncle's charity. "

"Philip Crawford isn't really her uncle, and no one can say what he willdo in the matter. "

Gregory Hall was evidently greatly disturbed at the new situationbrought about by the disappearance of Mr. Crawford's will. Butapparently the main reason for his disturbance was the impending povertyof his fiancee. There was no doubt that Mr. Carstairs and others who hadcalled this man a fortune-hunter had judged him rightly. 

However, without further words on the subject, I waited while Halllocked the door of the office, and then we went together to the greatdrawing-room, where the funeral services were about to take place. 

I purposely selected a position from which I could see the faces of thegroup of people most nearly connected with the dead man. I had a strangefeeling, as I looked at them, that one of them might be the instrumentof the crime which had brought about this funeral occasion. 

During the services I looked closely and in turn at each face, butbeyond the natural emotions of grief which might be expected, I couldread nothing more. 

The brother, Philip Crawford, the near neighbors, Mr. Porter and Mr. Hamilton, the lawyer, Mr. Randolph, all sat looking grave and solemn asthey heard the last words spoken above their dead friend. The ladies ofthe household, quietly controlling their emotions, sat near me, and nextto Florence Lloyd Gregory Hall had seated himself. 

All of these people I watched closely, half hoping that some inadvertentsign might tell me of someone's knowledge of the secret. But whenthe clergyman referred to the retribution that would sooner or laterovertake the criminal. I could see an expression of fear or apprehensionon no face save that of Florence Lloyd. She turned even whiter thanbefore, her pale lips compressed in a straight line, and her small blackgloved hand softly crept into that of Gregory Hall. The movement wasnot generally noticeable, but it seemed to me pathetic above all things. Whatever her position in the matter, she was surely appealing to him forhelp and protection. 

Without directly repulsing her, Hall was far from responsive. He allowedher hand to rest in his own but gave her no answering pressure, andlooked distinctly relieved when, after a moment, she withdrew it. 

I saw that Parmalee also had observed this, and I could see that to himit was an indication of the girl's perturbed spirit. To me it seemedthat it might equally well mean many other things. For instance it mightmean her apprehension for Gregory Hall, who, I couldn't help thinkingwas far more likely to be a wrongdoer than the girl herself. 

With a little sigh I gave up trying to glean much information from thepresent opportunity, and contented myself with the melancholy pleasureit gave me simply to look at the sad sweet face of the girl who wasalready enshrined in my heart. 

After the solemn and rather elaborate obsequies were over, a littleassembly gathered in the library to hear the reading of the will. 

As, until then, no one had known of the disappearance of the will, except the lawyer and the secretary, it came as a thunderbolt. 

"I have no explanation to offer, " said Mr. Randolph, looking greatlyconcerned, but free of all personal responsibility. "Mr. Crawford alwayskept the will in his own possession. When he came to see me, the lastevening he was alive, in regard to making a new will, he did not bringthe old one with him. We arranged to meet in his office the next morningto draw up the new instrument, when he doubtless expected to destroy theold one. 

"He may have destroyed it on his return home that evening. I do notknow. But so far it has not been found among his papers in either of hisoffices or in the bank. Of course it may appear, as the search, thoughthorough, has not yet been exhaustive. We will, therefore, hold thematter in abeyance a few days, hoping to find the missing document. "

His hearers were variously affected by this news. Florence Lloyd wassimply dazed. She could not seem to grasp a situation which so suddenlychanged her prospects. For she well knew that in the event of no willbeing found, Joseph Crawford's brother would be his rightful heir, andshe would be legally entitled to nothing at all. 

Philip Crawford sat with an utterly expressionless face. Quite able tocontrol his emotion, if he felt any, he made no sign that he welcomedthis possibility of a great fortune unexpectedly coming to him. 

Lemuel Porter, who, with his wife, had remained because of their closefriendship with the family, spoke out rather abruptly, "Find it! Of course it must be found! It's absurd to think the mandestroyed one will before the other was drawn. "

"I agree with you, " said Philip Crawford. 

"Joseph was very methodical in his habits, and, besides, I doubt if hewould really have changed his will. I think he merely threatened it, tosee if Florence persisted in keeping her engagement. "

This was a generous speech on the part of Philip Crawford. To be sure, generosity of speech couldn't affect the disposal of the estate. If nowill were found, it must by law go to the brother, but none the less thehearty, whole-souled way in which he spoke of Miss Lloyd was greatly tohis credit as a man. 

"I think so, too, " agreed Mr. Porter. "As you know, I called on Mr. Joseph Crawford during the--the last evening of his life. "

The speaker paused, and indeed it must have been a sad remembrance thatpictured itself to his mind. 

"Did he then refer to the matter of the will?" asked Mr. Randolph, ingentle tones. 

"He did. Little was said on the subject, but he told me that unlessFlorence consented to his wishes in the matter of her engagement to Mr. Hall, he would make a new will, leaving her only a small bequest. "

"In what manner did you respond, Mr. Porter?"

"I didn't presume to advise him definitely, but I urged him not to betoo hard on the girl, and, at any rate, not to make a new will until hehad thought it over more deliberately. "

"What did he then say?"

"Nothing of any definite import. He began talking of other matters, andthe will was not again referred to. But I can't help thinking he had notdestroyed it. "

At this, Miss Lloyd seemed about to speak, but, glancing at GregoryHall, she gave a little sigh, and remained silent. 

"You know of nothing that can throw any light on the matter of the will, Mr. Hall?" asked Mr. Randolph. 

"No, sir. Of course this whole situation is very embarrassing for me. I can only say that I have known for a long time the terms of Mr. Crawford's existing will; I have known of his threats of changing it;I have known of his attitude toward my engagement to his niece. ButI never spoke to him on any of these subjects, nor he to me, thoughseveral times I have thought he was on the point of doing so. I have hadaccess to most of his private papers, but of two or three small boxes healways retained the keys. I had no curiosity concerning the contentsof these boxes, but I naturally assumed his will was in one of them. Ihave, however, opened these boxes since Mr. Crawford's death, in companywith Mr. Randolph, and we found no will. Nor could we discover any inthe New York office or in the bank. That is all I know of the matter. "

Gregory Hall's demeanor was dignified and calm, his voice even and, indeed, cold. He was like a bystander, with no vital interest in thesubject he talked about. 

Knowing, as I did, that his interest was vital, I came to the conclusionthat he was a man of unusual self-control, and an ability to mask hisreal feelings completely. Feeling that nothing more could be learnedat present, I left the group in the library discussing the loss of thewill, and went down to the district attorney's office. 

He was, of course, surprised at my news, and agreed with me that it gaveus new fields for conjecture. 

"Now, we see, " he said eagerly, "that the motive for the murder was thetheft of the will. "

"Not necessarily, " I replied. "Mr. Crawford may have destroyed the willbefore he met his death. "

"But that would leave no motive. No, the will supplies the motive. Now, you see, this frees Miss Lloyd from suspicion. She would have no reasonto kill her uncle and then destroy or suppress a will in her own favor. "

"That reasoning also frees Mr. Hall from suspicion, " said I, revertingto my former theories. 

"Yes, it does. We must look for the one who has benefited by theremoval of the will. That, of course, would be the brother, Mr. PhilipCrawford. "

I looked at the attorney a moment, and then burst into laughter. 

"My dear Mr. Goodrich, " I said, "don't be absurd! A man would hardlyshoot his own brother, but aside from that, why should Philip Crawfordkill Joseph just at the moment he is about to make a new will inPhilip's favor? Either the destruction of the old will or the drawingof the new would result in Philip's falling heir to the fortune. So hewould hardly precipitate matters by a criminal act. And, too, if he hadbeen keen about the money, he could have urged his brother to disinheritFlorence Lloyd, and Joseph would have willingly done so. He was on thevery point of doing so, any way. "

"That's true, " said Mr. Goodrich, looking chagrined but unconvinced. "However, it frees Miss Lloyd from all doubts, by removing her motive. As you say, she wouldn't suppress a will in her favor, and thereby turnthe fortune over to Philip. And, as you also said, this lets GregoryHall out, too, though I never suspected him for a moment. But, ofcourse, his interests and Miss Lloyd's are identical. "

"Wait a moment, " I said, for new thoughts were rapidly following oneanother through my brain. "Not so fast, Mr. District Attorney. Thedisappearance of the will does not remove motive from the possibility ofMiss Lloyd's complicity in this crime--or Mr. Hall's either. "

"How so?"

"Because, if Florence Lloyd thought her uncle was in possession of thatwill, her motive was identically the same as if he had possessed it. Now, she certainly thought he had it, for her surprise at the news ofits loss was as unfeigned as my own. And of course Hall thought the willwas among Mr. Crawford's effects, for he has been searching constantlysince the question was raised. "

"But I thought that yesterday you were so sure of Miss Lloyd'sinnocence, " objected Mr. Goodrich. 

"I was, " I said slowly, "and I think I am still. But in the light ofabsolute evidence I am only declaring that the non-appearance of thatwill in no way interferes with the motive Miss Lloyd must have had ifshe is in any way guilty. She knew, or thought she knew, that the willwas there, in her favor. She knew her uncle intended to revoke itand make another in her disfavor. I do not accuse her--I'm not sure Isuspect her--I only say she had motive and opportunity. "

As I walked away from Mr. Goodrich's office, those words rang in mymind, motive and opportunity. Truly they applied to Mr. Hall as well asto Miss Lloyd, although of course it would mean Hall's coming out fromthe city and returning during the night. And though this might havebeen a difficult thing to do secretly, it was by no means impossible. Hemight not have come all the way to West Sedgwick Station, but might havedropped off the train earlier and taken the trolley. The trolley! thatthought reminded me of the transfer I had picked up on the grass plotnear the office veranda. Was it possible that slip of paper was a clue, and pointing toward Hall?

Without definite hope of seeing Gregory Hall, but hopeful of learningsomething about him, I strolled back to the Crawford house. I wentdirectly to the office, and by good luck found Gregory Hall there alone. He was still searching among the papers of Mr. Crawford's desk. 

"Ah, Mr. Burroughs, " he said, as I entered, "I'm glad to see you. Ifdetectives detect, you have a fine chance here to do a bit of good work. I wouldn't mind offering you an honorarium myself, if you could unearththe will that has so mysteriously disappeared. "

Hall's whole manner had changed. He had laid aside entirely the gravedemeanor which he had shown at the funeral, and was again the alertbusiness man. He was more than this. He was eager, --offensively so, --inhis search for the will. It needed no detective instinct to see thatthe fortune of Joseph Crawford and its bestowment were matters of vitalinterest to him. 

But though his personal feelings on the subject might be distasteful tome, it was certainly part of my duty to aid in the search, and so withhim I looked through the various drawers and filing cabinets. The papersrepresenting or connected with the financial interests of the latemillionaire were neatly filed and labelled; but in some parts ofthe desk we found the hodge-podge of personal odds and ends whichaccumulates with nearly everybody. 

Hall seemed little interested in those, but to my mind they showed apossibility of casting some light on Mr. Crawford's personal affairs. 

But among old letters, photographs, programs, newspaper clippings, andsuch things, there was nothing that seemed of the slightest interest, until at last I chanced upon a photograph that arrested my attention. 

"Do you know who this is?" I inquired. 

"No, " returned Hall, with a careless glance at it; "a friend of Mr. Crawford's, I suppose. "

"More than a friend, I should judge, " and I turned the back of thepicture toward him. Across it was written, "with loving Christmasgreetings, from M. S. P. "; and it was dated as recently as the Christmasprevious. 

"Well, " said Hall, "Mr. Crawford may have had a lady friend who caredenough about him to send an affectionate greeting, but I never heardof her before, and I doubt if she is in any way responsible for thedisappearance of this will. "

He went on searching through the desks, giving no serious heed to thephotograph. But to me it seemed important. I alone knew of the visitingcard in the gold bag. I alone knew that that bag belonged to a ladynamed Purvis. And here was a photograph initialed by a lady whosesurname began with P, and who was unmistakably on affectionate termswith Mr. Crawford. To my mind the links began to form a chain; the ladywho had sent her photograph at Christmas, and who had left her gold bagin Mr. Crawford's office the night he was killed, surely was a lady tobe questioned. 

But I had not yet had a reply to my telegram to headquarters, so I saidnothing to Hall on this subject, and putting the photograph in my pocketcontinued to assist him to look for the will, but without success. However, the discovery of the photograph had in a measure diverted mysuspicions from Gregory Hall; and though I endeavored to draw him intogeneral conversation, I did not ask him any definite questions abouthimself. 

But the more I talked with him, the more I disliked him: He not onlyshowed a mercenary, fortune-hunting spirit, but he showed himself inmany ways devoid of the finer feelings and chivalrous nature that oughtto belong to the man about to marry such a perfect flower of womanhoodas Florence Lloyd. 

XI. LOUIS'S STORY

After spending an evening in thinking over the situation and piecingtogether my clues, I decided that the next thing to be done was to traceup that transfer. If I could fasten that upon Gregory Hall, it wouldindeed be a starting point to work from. Although this seemed toeliminate Mrs. Purvis, who had already become a living entity in mymind, I still had haunting suspicions of Hall; and then, too, there wasa possibility of collusion between these two. It might be fanciful, butif Hall and the Purvis woman were both implicated, Hall was quite enougha clever villain to treat the photograph lightly as he had done. 

And so the next morning, I started for the office of the trolley carcompany. 

I learned without difficulty that the transfer I had found, must havebeen given to some passenger the night of Mr. Crawford's death, butwas not used. It had been issued after nine o'clock in the evening, somewhere on the line between New York and West Sedgwick. It was atransfer which entitled a passenger on that line to a trip on the branchline running through West Sedgwick, and the fact that it had not beenused, implied either a negligent conductor or a decision on the part ofthe passenger not to take his intended ride. 

All this was plausible, though a far from definite indication that Hallmight have come out from New York by trolley, or part way by trolley, and though accepting a transfer on the West Sedgwick branch, hadconcluded not to use it. But the whole theory pointed equally as well toMrs. Purvis, or indeed to the unknown intruder insisted upon by so many. I endeavored to learn something from certain conductors who broughttheir cars into West Sedgwick late at night, but it seemed they carrieda great many passengers and of course could not identify a transfer, ofwhich scores of duplicates had been issued. 

Without much hope I interviewed the conductors of the West SedgwickBranch Line. Though I could learn nothing definite, I fell intoconversation with one of them, a young Irishman, who was interestedbecause of my connection with the mystery. 

"No, sir, " he said, "I can't tell you anythin' about a stray transfer. But one thing I can tell you. That 'ere murder was committed of aToosday night, wasn't it?"

"Yes, " I returned. 

"Well, that 'ere parlyvoo vally of Mr. Crawford's, he's rid, on my car'most every Toosday night fer weeks and weeks. It's his night off. Andlast Toosday night he didn't ride with me. Now I don't know's that meansanything, but agin it might. "

It didn't seem to me that it meant much, for certainly Louis was notunder the slightest suspicion. And yet as I came to think about it, ifthat had been Louis's transfer and if he had dropped it near the officeveranda, he had lied when he said that he went round the other side ofthe house to reach the back entrance. 

It was all very vague, but it narrowed itself down to the point thatif that were Louis's transfer it could be proved; and if not it must beinvestigated further. For a trolley transfer, issued at a definite hour, and dropped just outside the scene of the crime was certainly a clue ofimportance. 

I proceeded to the Crawford house, and though I intended to have a talkwith Louis later, I asked first for Miss Lloyd. Surely, if I were tocarry on my investigation of the case, in her interests, I must have atalk with her. I had not intruded before, but now that the funeral wasover, the real work of tracking the criminal must be commenced, and asone of the principal characters in the sad drama, Miss Lloyd must playher part. 

Until I found myself in her presence I had not actually realized howmuch I wanted this interview. 

I was sure that what she said, her manner and her facial expression, must either blot out or strengthen whatever shreds of suspicion I heldagainst her. 

"Miss Lloyd, " I began, "I am, as you know, a detective; and I am herein Sedgwick for the purpose of discovering the cowardly assassin of youruncle. I assume that you wish to aid me in any way you can. Am I rightin this?"

Instead of the unhesitating affirmative I had expected, the girl spokeirresolutely. "Yes, " she said, "but I fear I cannot help you, as I knownothing about it. "

The fact that this reply did not sound to me as a rebuff, for whichit was doubtless intended, I can only account for by my growingappreciation of her wonderful beauty. 

Instead of funereal black, Miss Lloyd was clad all in white, and hersimple wool gown gave her a statuesque appearance; which, however, wascontradicted by the pathetic weariness in her face and the sad droopof her lovely mouth. Her helplessness appealed to me, and, though sheassumed an air of composure, I well knew it was only assumed, and thatwith some difficulty. 

Resolving to make it as easy as possible for her, I did not ask her torepeat the main facts, which I already knew. 

"Then, Miss Lloyd, " I said, in response to her disclaimer, "if youcannot help me, perhaps I can help you. I have reason to think thatpossibly Louis, your late uncle's valet, did not tell the truth in histestimony at the coroner's inquest. I have reason to think that insteadof going around the house to the back entrance as he described, he wentaround the other side, thus passing your uncle's office. "

To my surprise this information affected Miss Lloyd much more seriouslythan I supposed it would. 

"What?" she said, and her voice was a frightened whisper. "What time didhe come home?"

"I don't know, " I replied; "but you surely don't suspect Louis ofanything wrong. I was merely hoping, that if he did pass the office hemight have looked in, and so could tell us of your uncle's well-being atthat time. "

"At what time?"

"At whatever time he returned home. Presumably rather late. But sinceyou are interested in the matter, will you not call Louis and let usquestion him together?"

The girl fairly shuddered at this suggestion. She hesitated, and for amoment was unable to speak. Of course this behavior on her part filledmy soul with awful apprehension. Could it be possible that she and Louiswere in collusion, and that she dreaded the Frenchman's disclosures? Iremembered the strange looks he had cast at her while being questionedby the coroner. I remembered his vehement denial of having passed theoffice that evening, --too vehement, it now seemed to me. However, if Iwere to learn anything damaging to Florence Lloyd's integrity, I wouldrather learn it now, in her presence, than elsewhere. So I again askedher to send for the valet. 

With a despairing look, as of one forced to meet an impending fate, sherose, crossed the room and rang a bell. Then she returned to her seatand said quietly, "You may ask the man such questions as you wish, Mr. Burroughs, but I beg you will not include me in the conversation. "

"Not unless it should be necessary, " I replied coldly, for I did notat all like her making this stipulation. To me it savored of a sort ofcowardice, or at least a presumption on my own chivalry. 

When the man appeared, I saw at a glance he was quite as much agitatedas Miss Lloyd. There was no longer a possibility of a doubt that thesetwo knew something, had some secret in common, which bore directly onthe case, and which must be exposed. A sudden hope flashed into my mindthat it might be only some trifling secret, which seemed of importanceto them, but which was merely a side issue of the great question. 

I considered myself justified in taking advantage of the man'sperturbation, and without preliminary speech I drew the transfer from mypocket and fairly flashed it in his face. 

"Louis, " I said sternly, "you dropped this transfer when you came homethe night of Mr. Crawford's death. "

The suddenness of my remark had the effect I desired, and fairlyfrightened the truth out of the man. 

"Y-yes, sir, " he stammered, and then with a frightened glance at MissLloyd, he stood nervously interlacing his fingers. 

I glanced at Miss Lloyd myself, but she had regained entireself-possession, and sat looking straight before her with an air thatseemed to say, "Go on, I'm prepared for the worst. "

As I paused myself to contemplate the attitudes of the two, I lost myground of vantage, for when I again spoke to the man, he too was morecomposed and ready to reply with caution. Doubtless he was influenced byMiss Lloyd's demeanor, for he imitatively assumed a receptive air. 

"Where did you get the transfer?" I went on. 

"On the trolley, sir; the main line. "

"To be used on the Branch Line through West Sedgwick?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Why did you not use it?"

"As I tell you, sir, and as I tell monsieur, the coroner, I have spendthat evening with a young lady. We went for a trolley ride, and as wereturned I take a transfer for myself, but not for her, as she live nearwhere we alight. "

"Oh, you left the main line and took the young lady home, intending thenyourself to come by trolley through West Sedgwick?"

"Yes, sir; it was just that way. "

At this point Louis seemed to forget his embarrassment, his gaze strayedaway, and a happy expression came into his eyes. I felt sure I wasreading his volatile French nature aright, when I assumed his mind hadturned back to the pleasant evening he had spent with his young ladyacquaintance. Somehow this went far to convince me of the fellow'sinnocence for it was quite evident the murder and its mystery were notuppermost in his thoughts at that moment. But my next question broughthim beck to realization of the present situation. 

"And why didn't you use your transfer?"

"Only that the night, he was so pleasant, I desired to walk. "

"And so you walked through the village, holding, perhaps, the transferin your hand?"

"I think, yes; but I do not remember the transfer in my hand, though hemay have been there. "

And now the man's unquiet had returned. His lips twitched and his darkeyes rolled about, as he endeavored in vain to look anywhere but at MissLloyd. She, too, was controlling herself by a visible effort. 

Anxious to bring the matter to a crisis, I said at once, and directly:

"And then you entered the gates of this place, you walked to the house, you walked around the house to the back by way of the path whichleads around by the library veranda, and you accidentally dropped yourtransfer near the veranda step. "

I spoke quietly enough, but Louis immediately burst into voluble denial. 

"No, no!" he exclaimed; "I do not go round by the office, I go the otherside of the house. I have tell you so many times. "

"But I myself picked up your transfer near the office veranda. "

"Then he blow there. The wind blow that night, oh, something fearful! Heblow the paper around the house, I think. "

"I don't think so, " I retorted; "I think you went around the house thatway, I think you paused at the office window--"

Just here I made a dramatic pause myself, hoping thus to appeal to theemotional nature of my victim. And I succeeded. Louis almost shriekedas he pressed his hands against his eyes, and cried out: "No! no! Itell you I did not go round that way! I go round the other way, and thewind--the wind, he blow my transfer all about!"

I tried a more quiet manner, I tried persuasive arguments, I finallyresorted to severity and even threats, but no admission could I get fromLouis, except that he had not gone round the house by way of the office. I was positive the man was lying, and I was equally positive that MissLloyd knew he was lying, and that she knew why, but the matter seemedto me at a deadlock. I could have questioned her, but I preferred to dothat when Louis was not present. If she must suffer ignominy it need notbe before a servant. So I dismissed Louis, perhaps rather curtly, andturning to Miss Lloyd, I asked her if she believed his assertion that hedid not pass by the office that night. 

"I don't know what I believe, " she answered, wearily drawing her handacross her brow. "And I can't see that it matters anyway. Supposinghe did go by the office, you certainly don't suspect him of my uncle'smurder, do you?"

"It is my duty, Miss Lloyd, " I said gently, for the girl was pitiablynervous, "to get the testimony of any one who was in or near the officethat night. But of course testimony is useless unless it is true. "

I looked her straight in the eyes as I said this, for I was thoroughlyconvinced that her own testimony at the inquest had not been entirelytrue. 

I think she understood my glance, for she arose at once, and saidwith extreme dignity: "I cannot see any necessity for prolonging thisinterview, Mr. Burroughs. It is of course your work to discover thetruth or falsity of Louis's story, but I cannot see that it in any wayimplicates or even interests me. "

The girl was superb. Her beauty was enhanced by the sudden spirit sheshowed, and her flashing dark eyes suggested a baited animal at bay. Apparently she had reached the limit of her endurance, and was unwillingto be questioned further or drawn into further admissions. And yet, someinexplicable idea came to me that she was angry, not with me, but withthe tangle in which I had remorselessly enmeshed her. Of a high order ofintelligence, she knew perfectly well that I was conscious of the factthat there was a secret of some sort between her and the valet. Herhaughty disdain, I felt sure, was to convey the impression that thoughthere might be a secret between them, it was no collusion or workingtogether, and that though her understanding with the man was mysterious, it was in no way beneath her dignity. Her imperious air as she quietlyleft the room thrilled me anew, and I began to think that a woman whocould assume the haughty demeanor of an empress might have chosen, asempresses had done before her, to commit crime. 

However, she went away, and the dark and stately library seemed to havelost its only spot of light and charm. I sat for a few minutes ponderingover it all, when I saw passing through the hall, the maid, Elsa. Itsuddenly occurred to me, that having failed with the mistress of thehouse, I might succeed better with her maid, so I called the girl in. 

She came willingly enough, and though she seemed timid, she was notembarrassed or afraid. 

"I'm in authority here, " I said, "and I'm going to ask you somequestions, which you must answer truthfully. "

"Yes, sir, " she said, without any show of interest. 

"Have you been with Miss Lloyd long?"

"Yes, sir; about four years, sir. "

"Is she a kind mistress?"

"Indeed she is, sir. She is the loveliest lady I ever worked for. I'd doanything for Miss Lloyd, that I would. "

"Well, perhaps you can best serve her by telling all you know about theevents of Tuesday night. "

"But I don't know anything, sir, " and Elsa's eyes opened wide inabsolutely unfeigned wonderment. 

"Nothing about the actual murder; no, of course not. But I just wantyou to tell me a few things about some minor matters. Did you take theyellow flowers from the box that was sent to Miss Lloyd?"

"Yes, sir; I always untie her parcels. And as she was at dinner, Iarranged the flowers in a vase of water. "

"How many flowers were there?"

For some reason this simple query disturbed the girl greatly. Sheflushed scarlet, and then she turned pale. She twisted the corner of herapron in her nervous fingers, and then said, only half audibly, "I don'tknow, sir. "

"Oh, yes, you do, Elsa, " I said in kindly tones, being anxious not tofrighten her; "tell me how many there were. Were there not a dozen?"

"I don't know, sir; truly I don't. I didn't count them at all. "

It was impossible to disbelieve her; she was plainly telling the truth. And, too, why should she count the roses? The natural thing would be notto count them, but merely to put them in the vase as she had said. Andyet, there was something about those flowers that Elsa knew and wouldn'ttell. Could it be that I was on the track of that missing twelfth rose?I knew, though perhaps Elsa did not, how many roses the florist had sentin that box. And unless Gregory Hall had abstracted one at the time ofhis purchase, the twelfth rose had been taken by some one else after theflowers reached the Crawford House. Could it have been Elsa, and was herperturbation only because of a guilty conscience over a petty theft of aflower? But I realized I must question her adroitly if I would find outthese things. 

"Is Miss Lloyd fond of flowers?" I asked, casually. 

"Oh, yes, sir, she always has some by her. "

"And do you love flowers too, Elsa?"

"Yes, sir. " But the quietly spoken answer, accompanied by a natural andstraightforward look promised little for my new theory. 

"Does Miss Lloyd sometimes give you some of her flowers?"

"Oh, yes, sir, quite often. "

"That is, if she's there when they arrive. But if she isn't there, andyou open the box yourself, she wouldn't mind if you took one or twoblossoms, would she?"

"Oh, no, sir, she wouldn't mind. Miss Lloyd's awful kind about suchthings. But I wouldn't often do it, sir. "

"No; of course not. But you did happen to take one of those yellowroses, didn't you, though?"

I breathlessly awaited the answer, but to my surprise, instead ofembarrassment the girl's eyes flashed with anger, though she answeredquietly enough, "Well, yes, I did, sir. "

Ah, at last I was on the trail of that twelfth rose! But from the frankway in which the girl admitted having taken the flower, I greatly fearedthat the trail would lead to a commonplace ending. 

"What did you do with it?" I said quietly, endeavoring to make thequestion sound of little importance. 

"I don't want to tell you;" and the pout on her scarlet lips seemed morelike that of a wilful child than of one guarding a guilty secret. 

"Oh, yes, tell me, Elsa;" and I even descended to a coaxing tone, to winthe girl's confidence. 

"Well, I gave it to that Louis. "

"To Louis? and why do you call him that Louis?"

"Oh, because. I gave him the flower to wear because I thought he wasgoing to take me out that evening. He had promised he would, at least hehad sort of promised, and then, --and then--"

"And then he took another young lady, " I finished for her in tones ofsuch sympathy and indignation that she seemed to think she had found afriend. 

"Yes, " she said, "he went and took another girl riding on the trolley, after he had said he would take me. "

"Elsa, " I said suddenly, and I fear she thought I had lost interest inher broken heart, "did Louis wear that rose you gave him that night?"

"Yes, the horrid man! I saw it in his coat when he went away. "

"And did he wear it home again?"

"How should I know?" Elsa tossed her head with what was meant to be ahaughty air, but which was belied by the blush that mantled her cheek ather own prevarication. 

"But you do know, " I insisted, gently; "did he wear it when he camehome?"

"Yes, he did. "

"How do you know?"

"Because I looked in his room the next day, and I saw it there allwithered. He had thrown it on the floor!"

The tragedy in Elsa's eyes at this awful relation of the cruelty ofthe sterner sex called for a spoken sympathy, and I said at once, andheartily: "That was horrid of him! If I were you I'd never give himanother flower. "

In accordance with the natural impulses of her sex, Elsa seemed pleasedat my disapproval of Louis's behavior, but she by no means looked as ifshe would never again bestow her favor upon him. She smiled and tossedher head, and seemed willing enough for further conversation, but forthe moment I felt that I had enough food for thought. So I dismissedElsa, having first admonished her not to repeat our conversation to anyone. In order to make sure that I should be obeyed in this matter, Ithreatened her with some unknown terrors which the law would bring uponher if she disobeyed me. When I felt sure she was thoroughly frightenedinto secrecy concerning our interview, I sent her away and began tocogitate on what she had told me. 

If Louis came to the house late that night, as by his own admissionhe did; if he went around the house on the side of the office, as thestraying transfer seemed to me to prove; and if, at the time, he waswearing in his coat a yellow rose with petals similar to those found onthe office floor the next morning, was not one justified in looking moredeeply into the record of Louis the valet?

XII. LOUIS'S CONFESSION

Elsa had been gone but a few moments when Florence Lloyd returned to thelibrary. I arose to greet her and marvelled at the change which had comeover her. Surely here was a girl of a thousand moods. She had leftme with an effect of hauteur and disdain; she returned, gentle andcharming, almost humble. I could not understand it, and remainedstanding after she had seated herself, awaiting developments. 

"Sit down, Mr. Burroughs, " she said, and her low, sweet voice seemedfull of cordial invitation. "I'm afraid I was rude to you, when I wentaway just now; and I want to say that if I can tell you anything youwish to know, I should be glad to do so. "

I drew up a chair and seated myself near her. My heart was pounding withexcitement at this new phase of the girl's nature. For an instant itseemed as if she must have a personal kindly feeling toward me, andthen my reason returned, and with a suddenly falling heart and slowingpulses, I realized that I was a fool, and that after thinking over thedisclosures Louis had made, Miss Lloyd had shrewdly concluded it wasto her best advantage to curry favor with the detective. This knowledgecame to me instinctively, and so I distrusted her gentle voice andwinning smile, and hardening my heart against her, I resolved to turnthis new mood of hers to my own advantage, and learn what I could whileshe was willing to converse:

"I'm glad of this opportunity, Miss Lloyd, " I said, "for there are somephases of this affair that I want to discuss with you alone. Let us talkthe matter over quietly. It is as well that you should know that thereare some doubts felt as to the entire truth of the story you told at theinquest. I do not say this to frighten you, " I added, as the poor girlclasped her hands and gave me a look of dumb alarm; "but, since it isso, I want to do all I can to set the matter right. Do you rememberexactly all that took place, to your knowledge, on the night of youruncle's death?"

"Yes, " she replied, looking more frightened still. It was evident thatshe knew more than she had yet revealed, but I almost forgot myinquiry, so absorbed was I in watching her lovely face. It was even moreexquisite in its terrified pallor than when the fleeting pink showed inher cheeks. 

"Then, " I said, "let us go over it. You heard your uncle go out at abouteight o'clock and return about nine?"

"Yes, I heard the front door open and close both times. "

"You and Mrs. Pierce being in the music-room, of course. Then, later, you heard a visitor enter, and again you heard him leave?"

"Yes--Mr. Porter. "

"Did you know it was Mr. Porter, at the time he was here?"

"No; I think not. I didn't think at all who it might be. Uncle Josephoften had men to call in the evening. "

"About what time did Mr. Porter leave?"

"A few minutes before ten. I heard Lambert say, `Good-night, sir, ' as heclosed the door after him. "

"And soon after, you and Mrs. Pierce went upstairs?"

"Yes; only a few minutes after. "

"And, later, Mrs. Pierce came to your room?"

"Yes; about half-past ten, I should say; she came to get a book. Shedidn't stay two minutes. "

"And after that, you went down-stairs again to speak to your uncle?" Forthe merest instant Miss Lloyd's eyes closed and she swayed as if aboutto faint, but she regained her composure at once, and answered with someasperity, "I did not. I have told you that I did not leave my room again thatnight. "

Her dark eyes blazed, her cheeks flushed, and though her full lower lipquivered it was with anger now, not fear. 

As I watched her, I wondered how I could have thought her more beautifulwhen pale. Surely with this glowing color she was at her glorious best. 

"Then when did you drop the two rose petals there?" I went on, calmlyenough, though my own heart was beating fast. 

"I did not drop them. They were left there by some intruder. "

"But, Miss Lloyd, " and I observed her closely, "the petals were from arose such as those Mr. Hall sent you that evening. The florist assuresme there were no more such blossoms in West Sedgwick at that time. Thefallen petals, then, were from one of your own roses, or--"

"Or?" asked Miss Lloyd, her hands pressed against the laces at herthrobbing bosom. "Or?"

"Or, " I went on, "from a rose worn by some one who had come out from NewYork on a late train. "

For the moment I chose to ignore Louis's rose for I wanted to learnanything Miss Lloyd could tell me. And, too, the yellow petals mighthave fallen from a flower in Hall's coat after all. I thought itpossible by suggesting this idea, to surprise from her some hint as towhether she had any suspicion of him. 

She gave a gasp, and, leaning back in her chair, she closed her eyes, asif spent with a useless struggle. 

"Wait a moment, " she said, putting out her hand with an imploringgesture. "Wait a moment. Let me think. I will tell you all, but--wait--"

With her eyes still closed, she lay back against the satin chaircushion, and I gazed at her, fascinated. 

I knew it! Then and there the knowledge came to me! Not her guilt, nother innocence. The crime seemed far away then, but I knew like a flashnot only that I loved this girl, this Florence Lloyd, but that I shouldnever love any one else. It mattered not that she was betrothed toanother man; the love that had suddenly sprung to life in my heart wassuch pure devotion that it asked no return. Guilty or innocent, I lovedher. Guilty or innocent, I would clear her; and if the desire of herheart were toward another, she should ever know or suspect my adorationfor her. 

I gazed at her lovely face, knowing that when her eyes opened Imust discreetly turn my glance aside, but blessing every instant ofopportunity thus given me. 

Her countenance, though troubled and drawn with anxiety, was so pureand sweet that I felt sure of her innocence. But it should be my work toprove that to the world. 

Suddenly her eyes flashed open; again her mood had changed. 

"Mr. Burroughs, " she said, and there was almost a challenge in her tone, "why do you ask me these things? You are a detective, you are here tofind out for yourself, not to ask others to find out. I am innocent ofmy uncle's death, of course, but when you cast suspicion on the manto whom I am betrothed, you cannot expect me to help you confirm thatsuspicion. You have made me think by your remark about a man on a latetrain that you refer to Mr. Hall. Do you?"

This was a change of base, indeed. I was being questioned instead ofdoing the catechising myself. Very well; if it were my lady's will tochallenge me, I would meet her on her own ground. 

"You took the hint very quickly, " I said. "Had you thought of such apossibility before?"

"No, nor do I now. I will not. " Again she was the offended queen. "Butsince you have breathed the suggestion, you may not count on any helpfrom me. "

"Could you have helped me otherwise?" I said, detaining her as she sweptby. 

To this she made no answer, but again her face wore a troubledexpression, and as she went slowly from the room, she left me with astrong conviction that she knew far more about Gregory Hall's connectionwith the matter than she had told me. 

I sat alone for a few moments wondering what I had better do next. 

I had about decided to go in search of Parmalee, and talk things overwith him, but I thought it would be better to see Louis first, andsettle up the matter of his rose more definitely. Accordingly I rangthe bell, and when the parlor maid answered it, I asked her to send bothLouis and Elsa to me in the library. 

I could see at once that these two were not friendly toward each other, and I hoped this fact would aid me in learning the truth from them. 

"Now, Louis, " I began, "you may as well tell me the truth about yourhome coming last Tuesday night. In the first place, you must admit thatyou were wearing in your coat one of the yellow roses which had beensent to Miss Lloyd. "

"No, no, indeed!" declared Louis, giving Elsa a threatening glance, asif forbidding her to contradict him. 

"Nonsense, man, " I said; "don't stand there and tell useless lies. Itwill not help you. The best thing you can do for yourself and for allconcerned is to tell the truth. And, moreover, if you don't tell it tome now, you will have to tell it to Mr. Goodrich, later. Elsa gave you ayellow rose and you wore it away that evening when you went to see youryoung lady. Now what became of that rose?"

"I--I lost it, sir. "

"No, you didn't lose it. You wore it home again, and when you retired, you threw it on the floor, in your own room. "

"No, sir. You make mistake. I look for him next day in my room, butcannot find him. "

I almost laughed at the man's ingenuousness. He contradicted his ownstory so unconsciously, that I began to think he was more of a simpletonthan a villain. 

"Of course you couldn't find it, " I informed him, "for it was taken fromyour room next day; and of course you didn't look for it until after youhad heard yellow roses discussed at the inquest. "

Louis's easily read face proved my statement correct, but he glowered atElsa, as he said: "Who take him away? who take my rose from my room. "

"But you denied having a rose, Louis. Now you're asking who took itaway. Once again, let me advise you to tell the truth. You're not at allsuccessful in telling falsehoods. Now answer me this: When you came homeTuesday night, did you or did you not walk around the house past theoffice window?"

"No, sir. I walked around the other side. I--"

"Stop, Louis! You're not telling the truth. You did walk around by theoffice, and you dropped your transfer there. It never blew all aroundthe house, as you have said it did. "

A look of dogged obstinacy came into the man's eyes, but he did not lookat me. He shifted his gaze uneasily, as he repeated almost in a singsongway, "go round the other side of the house. "

It was a sort of deadlock. Without a witness to the fact, I could notprove that he had gone by the office windows, though I was sure he had. 

But help came from an unexpected quarter. 

Elsa had been very quiet during the foregoing conversation, but nowshe spoke up suddenly, and said: "He did go round by the office, Mr. Burroughs, and I saw him. "

I half expected to see Louis turn on the girl in a rage, but the effectof her speech on him was quite the reverse. He almost collapsed; hetrembled and turned white, and though he tried to speak, he made nosound. Surely this man was too cowardly for a criminal; but I must learnthe secret of his knowledge. 

"Tell me about it, Elsa, " I said, quietly. 

"I was looking out at my window, sir, at the back of the house; and Isaw Louis come around the house, and he came around by the office side. "

"You're positive of this, Elsa? you would swear to it? Remember, you aremaking an important assertion. "

"I am telling the truth, sir. I saw him plainly as he came around andentered at the back door. "

"You hear, Louis?" I said sternly. "I believe Elsa's statement ratherthan yours, for she tells a straight story, while you are rattled andagitated, and have all the appearance of concealing something. "

Louis looked helpless. He didn't dare deny Elsa's story, but he wouldnot confirm it. At last he said, with a glance of hatred at the girl, "Elsa, she tell that story to make the trouble for me. "

There was something in this. Elsa, I knew, was jealous, and her pridehad been hurt because Louis had taken the rose she gave him, and thenhad gone to call on another girl. But I had no reason to doubt Elsa'sstatement, and I had every reason to doubt Louis's. I tried to imaginewhat Louis's experience had really been, and it suddenly occurred to me, that though innocent himself of real wrong, he had seen something in theoffice, or through the office windows that he wished to keep secret. Idid not for a moment believe that the man had killed his master, so Iconcluded he was endeavoring to shield someone else. 

"Louis, " I said, suddenly, "I'll tell you what you did. You went aroundby the office, you saw a light there late at night, and you naturallylooked in. You saw Mr. Crawford there, and he was perhaps alreadykilled. You stepped inside and discovered this, and then you came away, and said nothing about it, lest you yourself be suspected of the crime. Incidentally you dropped two petals from the rose Elsa had given you. "

Louis's answer to this accusation was a perfect storm of denials, expressed in voluble French and broken English, but all to the effectthat it was not true, and that if he had seen his master dead, he wouldhave raised an alarm. 

I saw that I had not yet struck the right idea, so I tried again. "Then, Louis, you must have passed the office before Mr. Crawford was killed, which is really more probable. Then as you passed the window, you sawsomething or someone in the office, and you're not willing to tell aboutit. Is this it?"

This again brought forth only incoherent denial, and I could see thatthe man was becoming so rattled, it was difficult for him to speakclearly, had he desired to do so. 

"Elsa, " I said, suddenly, "you took that rose from Louis's room. Whatdid you do with it?"

"I kept, --I mean, I don't know what I did with it, " stammered the girl, blushing rosy red, and looking shyly at Louis. 

I felt sorry to disclose the poor girl's little romance, for it waseasy enough to see that she was in love with the fickle Frenchman, who evidently did not reciprocate her interest. He looked at herdisdainfully, and she presented a pathetic picture of embarrassment. 

But the situation was too serious for me to consider Elsa's sentiments, and I said, rather sternly: "You do know where it is. You preserved thatrose as a souvenir. Go at once and fetch it. "

It was a chance shot, for I was not at all certain that she had keptthe withered flower, but dominated by my superior will she went away atonce. She returned in a moment with the flower. 

Although withered, it was still in fairly good condition; quite enoughso for me to see at a glance that no petals had been detached from it. The green calyx leaves clung around the bud in such a manner as to provepositively that the unfolding flower had lost no petal. This settled thetwelfth rose. Wherever those tell-tale petals had come from, they werenot from Louis's rose. I gave the flower back to Elsa, and I said, "takeyour flower, my girl, and go away now. I don't want to question you anymore for the present. "

A little bewildered at her sudden dismissal, Elsa went away, and Iturned my attention to the Frenchman. 

"Louis, " I began, "this must be settled here and now between us. Eitheryou must tell me what I want to know, or you must be taken before thedistrict attorney, and be made to tell him. I have proved to my ownsatisfaction that the rose petals in the office were not from the floweryou wore. Therefore I conclude that you did not go into the office thatnight, but as you passed the window you did see someone in there withMr. Crawford. The hour was later than Mr. Porter's visit, for he hadalready gone home, and Lambert had locked the front door and gone tobed. You came in later, and what you saw, or whom you saw through theoffice window so surprised you, or interested you, that you paused tolook in, and there you dropped your transfer. "

Though Louis didn't speak, I could see at once that I was on the righttrack at last. The man was shielding somebody. He was unwilling to tellwhat he had seen, lest it inculpate someone. Could it be Gregory Hall?If Hall had come out on a late train, and Louis had seen him there, hemight, perhaps under Hall's coercion, be keeping the fact secret. Again, if a strange woman with the gold bag had been in the office, that alsowould have attracted Louis's attention. Again, and here my heart almoststopped beating, could he have seen Florence Lloyd in there? But asecond thought put me at ease again. Surely to have seen Florence inthere would have been so usual and natural a sight that it could nothave caused him anxiety. And yet, again, for him to have seen Florencein her uncle's office, would have proved to him that the story shetold at the inquest was false. I must get out of him the knowledge hepossessed, if I had to resort to a sort of third degree. But I mightmanage it by adroit questioning. 

"I quite understand, Louis, that you are shielding some person. But letme tell you that it is useless. It is much wiser for you to tell me allyou know, and then I can go to work intelligently to find the man whomurdered Mr. Crawford. You want me to find him, do you not?"

Louis seemed to have found his voice again. "Yes, sir, of course he mustbe found. Of course I want him found, --the miscreant, the villain! but, Mr. Burroughs, sir, what I have see in the office makes nothing to yoursearch. I simply see Mr. Crawford alive and well. And I pass by. Thatfool girl Elsa, she tell you that I pass by, so I may say so. But I seenothing in the office to alarm me, and if I drop my transfer there, itis but because I think of him as no consequence, and I let him go. "

"Louis, " and I looked him straight in the eye, "all that soundsstraightforward and true. But, if you saw nothing in the office tosurprise or alarm you, why did you at first deny having passed by theoffice at all?"

The man had no answer for this. He was not ingenious in inventingfalsehood, and he stood looking helpless and despairing. I perceived Ishould have to go on with my questioning. 

"Was it a man or a woman you saw in there with Mr. Crawford?"

"I see nobody, sir, nobody but my master. "

That wouldn't do, then. As long as I asked him direct questions he couldanswer falsely. I must trip him up in some roundabout way. 

"Yes, " I said pleasantly, "I understand that. And what was Mr. Crawforddoing?"

"He sat at his desk;" and Louis spoke slowly, and picked his words withcare. 

"Was he writing?"

"No; that is, yes, sir, he was writing. "

I now knew he was not writing, for the truth had slipped out before theman could frame up his lie. I believed I was going to learn something atlast, if I could make the man tell. Surely the testimony of one who sawJoseph Crawford late that night was of value, and though that testimonywas difficult to obtain, it was well worth the effort. 

"And was Mr. Hall at his desk also?"

Louis stared at me. "Mr. Hall, he was in New York that night. " This wassaid so simply and unpremeditatedly, that I was absolutely certain itwas not Hall whom Louis had seen there. 

"Oh, yes, of course, so he was, " I said lightly; "and Mr. Crawford waswriting, was he?"

"Yes, sir, " spoken with the dogged scowl which I was beginning to learnalways accompanied Louis's untruthful statements. 

And now I decided to put my worst fear to the test and have it overwith. It must be done, and I felt sure I could do it, but oh, how Idreaded it!

"Did Mr. Crawford look up or see you?"

"No, sir. "

"And didn't Miss Florence see you, either?"

"No, sir. "

It was out. The mere fact that Louis answered that question so calmlyand unconsciously proved he was telling the truth. But what a truth! forit told me at the same time that Florence Lloyd was in the office withher uncle, that Louis had seen her, but that she had not seen him. I hadlearned the truth from my reading of the man's expression and demeanor, and though it made my heart sink, I didn't for a moment doubt that itwas the truth. 

Of course Louis realized the next instant what he had done, and again hebegan his stammering denials. "Of course, Miss Lloyd do not see me forshe is not there. How can she see me, then? I tell you my master wasalone!"

Had I been the least uncertain, this would have convinced me that I wasright. For Louis's voice rose almost to a shriek, so angry was he withhimself for having made the slip. 

"Give it up, Louis, " I said; "you have let out the truth, now be quiet. You couldn't help it, man, you were bound to trip yourself up sooneror later. You put up a good fight for Miss Florence, and now that Iunderstand why you told your falsehoods, I can't help admiring yourchivalry. You saw Miss Lloyd there that evening, you heard her next dayat the inquest deny having been in the office in the evening. So, ina way, it was very commendable on your part to avoid contradicting hertestimonies, with your own. But you are not clever enough, Louis, tocarry out that deceit to the end. And now that you have admitted thatyou saw Miss Lloyd there, you can best help her cause, and best help meto help her cause, by telling me all about it. For rest assured, Louis, that I am quite as anxious to prove Miss Lloyd's innocence as you canpossibly be, and the only way to accomplish that end, is to learn asmuch of the truth as I possibly can. Now, tell me what she was doing. "

"Only talking to her uncle, sir. " Louis had the air of a defeated man. He had tried to shield Miss Lloyd's name and had failed. Now he spokesullenly, and as if his whole cause were lost. 

"And Mr. Crawford was talking to her?"

"Yes, sir. "

"He was not writing, then?"

"No, sir. "

"Did they seem to be having an amicable conversation?"

Louis hesitated, and his hesitation was sufficient answer. 

"Never mind, " I said, "you need not tell me more. In fact, I wouldprefer to get the rest of the story from Miss Lloyd, herself. "

Louis looked startled. "Don't tell Miss Lloyd I told you this, " hebegged; "I have try very hard not to tell you. "

"I know you tried hard, Louis, not to tell me, and it was not your faultthat I wrung the truth from you. I will not tell Miss Lloyd that youtold me, unless it should become necessary, and I do not think it will. Go away now, Louis, and do not discuss this matter with anybody at all. And, also, do not think for a moment that you have been disloyal intelling me that you saw Miss Lloyd. As I say, you couldn't help it. Ishould simply have kept at you until I made you tell, so you need notblame yourself in the matter at all. "

Louis went away, and though I could see that he believed what I said, he had a dejected air, and I couldn't help feeling sorry for the man whohad so inadvertently given me the knowledge that must be used againstthe beautiful girl who had herself given untrue testimony. 

XIII. MISS LLOYD'S CONFIDENCE

After Louis left me, I felt as if a dead weight had fallen on my heart. Florence Lloyd had gone down to her uncle's office late that night, andyet at the inquest she had testified that she had not done so. Andeven to me, when talking quietly and alone, she had repeated her falseassertion. This much I knew, but why she had done if, I did not know. Not until I was forced to do so, would I believe that even her falsehoodin the matter meant that she herself was guilty. There must be someother reason for her mendacity. 

Well, I would find out this reason, and if it were not a creditable oneto her, I would still endeavor to do all I could for her. I longed tosee her, and try if perhaps kind and gentle urging might not elicitthe truth. But she had left me with such an air of haughty disdain, Ihesitated to send for her again just now. And as it was nearly dinnertime, I resolved to go back to my hotel. 

On the way, I came to the conclusion that it would do no harm to have atalk with Parmalee. 

I had not much confidence in his detective ability, but he knew thepeople better than I did, and might be able to give me information ofsome sort. 

After I reached the Sedgwick Arms I telephoned Parmalee to come over anddine with me, and he readily consented. 

During dinner I told him all that I had learned from Elsa and Louis. Of course I had no right to keep this knowledge to myself, and, too, Iwanted Parmalee's opinion on the situation as it stood at present. 

"It doesn't really surprise me, " he said, "for I thought all along, MissLloyd was not telling the truth. I'm not yet ready to say that I thinkshe killed her uncle, although I must say it seems extremely probable. But if she didn't commit the deed, she knows perfectly well who did. "

"Meaning Hall?"

"No, I don't mean Hall. In fact I don't mean any one in particular. I think Miss Lloyd was the instigator of the crime, and practicallycarried out its commission, but she may have had an assisting agent forthe actual deed. "

"Oh, how you talk! It quite gives me the shivers even to think of abeautiful young woman being capable of such thoughts or deeds. "

"But, you see, Burroughs, that's because you are prejudiced in favorof Miss Lloyd. Women are capable of crime as well as men, and sometimesthey're even more clever in the perpetration of it. And you must admitif ever a woman were capable of crime, Miss Lloyd is of that type. "

"I have to agree to that, Parmalee, " I admitted; "she certainly showsgreat strength of character. "

"She shows more than that; she has indomitable will, unflinchingcourage, and lots of pluck. If, for any reason, she made up her mind tokill a man, she'd find a way to do it. "

This talk made me cringe all over, but I couldn't deny it, for so far asI knew Florence Lloyd, Parmalee's words were quite true. 

"All right, " I said, "I'll grant her capability, but that doesn't provea thing. I don't believe that girl is guilty, and I hope to prove herinnocence. "

"But look at the evidence, man! She denied her presence in the room, yetwe now know she was there. She denied the ownership of the gold bag, yet probably she was also untruthful in that matter. She is a woman ofa complex nature, and though I admire her in many ways, I shouldn't careto have much to do with her. "

"Let us leave out the personal note, Parmalee, " I said, for I was angryat his attitude toward Florence. 

"All right. Don't you think for a moment that I don't see where youstand with regard to the haughty beauty, but that's neither here northere. "

"Indeed it isn't, " I returned; "and whatever may be my personal feelingtoward Miss Lloyd, I can assure you it in no way influences my work onthis case. "

"I believe you, old man; and so I'm sure you will agree with me thatwe must follow up the inquiry as to Miss Lloyd's presence in the officethat night. She must be made to talk, and perhaps it would be best totell Goodrich all about it, and let him push the matter. "

"Oh, no, " I cried involuntarily. "Don't set him on the track of the poorgirl. That is, Parmalee, let me talk to her again, first. Now that Iknow she was down there that night, I think I can question her ina little different manner, and persuade her to own the truth. And, Parmalee, perhaps she was down there because Hall was there. "

"Hall! He was in New York. "

"So he says, but why should he speak the truth any more than MissLloyd?"

"You, mean they may both be implicated?"

"Yes; or he may have used her as a tool. "

"Not Florence Lloyd. She's nobody's tool. "

"Any woman might be a tool at the command of the man she loves. But, " Iwent on, with an air of conviction which was not entirely genuine, "MissLloyd doesn't love Mr. Hall. "

"I don't know about that, " returned Parmalee; "you can't tell abouta woman like Florence Lloyd. If she doesn't love him, she's at leastputting up a bluff of doing so. "

"I believe it is a bluff, though I'm sure I don't know why she should dothat. "

"On the other hand, why shouldn't she? For some reason she's dead seton marrying him, ready to give up her fortune to do so, if necessary. Hemust have some sort of a pretty strong hold on her. "

"I admit all that, and yet I can't believe she loves him. He's such acommonplace man. "

"Commonplace doesn't quite describe him. And yet Gregory Hall, with allthe money in the world, could never make himself distinguished or worthwhile in any way. "

"No; and what would Miss Florence Lloyd see in a man like that, to makeher so determined to marry him?"

"I don't think she is determined, except that Hall has some sort of holdover her, --a promise or something, --that she can't escape. "

My heart rejoiced at the idea that Florence was not in love with Hall, but I did not allow myself to dwell on that point, for I was determinedto go on with the work, irrespective of my feelings toward her. 

"You see, " Parmalee went on, "you suspect Hall, only because you'reprejudiced against him. "

"Good gracious!" I exclaimed; "that's an awful thing to say, Parmalee. The idea of a detective suspecting a man, merely because he doesn'tadmire his personality! And besides, it isn't true. If I suspect Hall, it's because I think he had a strong motive, a possible opportunity, andmore than all, because he refuses to tell where he was Tuesday night. "

"But that's just the point, Burroughs. A man who'll commit murder wouldfix up his alibi first of all. He would know that his refusal to tellhis whereabouts would be extremely suspicious. No, to my mind it'sHall's refusal to tell that stamps him as innocent. "

"Then, in that case, it's the cleverest kind of an alibi he couldinvent, for it stamps him innocent at once. "

"Oh, come, now, that's going pretty far; but I will say, Burroughs, that you haven't the least shred of proof against Hall, and you knowit. Prejudice and unfounded suspicion and even a strong desire thathe should be the villain, are all very well. But they won't go far asevidence in a court of law. "

I was forced to admit that Parmalee was right, and that so far I had noproof whatever that Gregory Hall was at all implicated in Mr. Crawford'sdeath. To be sure he might have worn a yellow rose, and he might havebrought the late newspaper, but there was no evidence to connecthim with those clues, and too, there was the gold bag. It was highlyimprobable that that should have been brought to the office and leftthere by a man. 

However, I persuaded Parmalee to agree not to carry the matter to Mr. Goodrich until I had had one more interview with Miss Lloyd, and Ipromised to undertake that the next morning. 

After Parmalee had gone, I indulged in some very gloomy reflections. Everything seemed to point one way. Every proof, every suspicion andevery hint more or less implicated Miss Lloyd. 

But the more I realized this, the more I determined to do all I couldfor her, and as to do this, I must gain her confidence, and evenliking, I resolved to approach the subject the next day with the utmosttactfulness and kindliness, hoping by this means to induce the truthfrom her. 

The next morning I started on my mission with renewed hopefulness. Reaching the Crawford house, I asked for Miss Lloyd, and I was showninto a small parlor to wait for her. It was a sort of morning room, apretty little apartment that I had not been in before; and it was somuch more cheerful and pleasant than the stately library, I couldn'thelp hoping that Miss Lloyd, too, would prove more amenable than she hadyet been. 

She soon came in, and though I was beginning to get accustomed to thefact that she was a creature of variable moods, I was unprepared forthis one. Her hauteur had disappeared; she was apparently in a sweetand gentle frame of mind. Her large dark eyes were soft and gentle, andthough her red lips quivered, it was not with anger or disdain as theyhad done the day before. She wore a plain white morning gown, and a longblack necklace of small beads. The simplicity of this costume suited herwell, and threw into relief her own rich coloring and striking beauty. 

She greeted me more pleasantly than she had ever done before, and Icouldn't help feeling that the cheerful sunny little room had a bettereffect on her moods than the darker furnishings of the library. 

"I wish, " I began, "that we had not to talk of anything unpleasant thismorning. I wish there were no such thing as untruth or crime in theworld, and that I were calling on you, as an acquaintance, as a friendmight call. "

"I wish so, too, " she responded, and as she flashed a glance at me, Ihad a glimpse of what it might mean to be friends with FlorenceLloyd without the ugly shadow between us that now was spoiling ourtete-a-tete. 

Just that fleeting glance held in it the promise of all that wasattractive, charming and delightful in femininity. It was as if the veilof the great, gloomy sorrow had been lifted for a moment, and she wasagain an untroubled, merry girl. It seemed too, as if she wished that wecould be together under pleasanter circumstances and could converseon subjects of less dreadful import. However, all these thoughts thattumultuously raced through my mind must be thrust aside in favor of thebusiness in hand. 

So though I hated to, I began at once. 

"I am sorry, Miss Lloyd, to doubt your word, but I want to tell youmyself rather than to have you learn it from others that I have awitness who has testified to your presence in your uncle's office thatfateful Tuesday night, although you have said you didn't go down there. "

As I had feared, the girl turned white and shivered as if with adreadful apprehension. 

"Who is the witness?" she said. 

I seemed to read her mind, and I felt at once that to her, theimportance of what I had said depended largely on my answer to thisquestion, and I paused a moment to think what this could mean. And thenit flashed across me that she was afraid I would say the witness wasGregory Hall. I became more and more convinced that she was shieldingHall, and I felt sure that when she learned it was not he, she wouldfeel relieved. However, I had promised Louis not to let her know that hehad told me of seeing her, unless it should be necessary. 

"I think I won't tell you that; but since you were seen in the office atabout eleven o'clock, will you not tell me, --I assure you it is for yourown best interests, --what you were doing there, and why you denied beingthere?"

"First tell me the name of your informer;" and so great was heragitation that she scarcely breathed the words. 

"I prefer not to do so, but I may say it is a reliable witness and onewho gave his evidence most unwillingly. "

"Well, if you will not tell me who he was, will you answer just onequestion about him? Was it Mr. Hall?"

"No; it was not Mr. Hall. "

As I had anticipated, she showed distinctly her relief at my answer. Evidently she dreaded to hear Hall's name brought into the conversation. 

"And now, Miss Lloyd, I ask you earnestly and with the best intent, please to tell me the details of your visit to Mr. Crawford that nightin his office. "

She sat silent for a moment, her eyes cast down, the long dark lasheslying on her pale cheeks. I waited patiently, for I knew she wasstruggling with a strong emotion of some sort, and I feared if I hurriedher, her gentle mood would disappear, and she might again become angryor haughty of demeanor. 

At last she spoke. The dark lashes slowly raised, and she seemed evenmore gentle than at first. 

"I must tell you, " she said. "I see I must. But don't repeat it, unlessit is necessary. Detectives have to know things, but they don't have totell them, do they?"

"We never repeat confidences, Miss Lloyd, " I replied, "except whennecessary to further the cause of right and justice. "

"Truly? Is that so?"

She brightened up so much that I began to hope she had only sometrifling matter to tell of. 

"Well, then, " she went on, "I will tell you, for I know it need notbe repeated in the furtherance of justice. I did go down to my uncle'soffice that night, after Mrs. Pierce had been to my room; and it wasI--it must have been I--who dropped those rose petals. "

"And left the bag, " I suggested. 

"No, " she said, and her face looked perplexed, but not confused. "No, the bag is not mine, and I did not leave it there. I know nothing of it, absolutely nothing. But I did go to the office at about eleveno'clock. I had a talk with my uncle, and I left him there a half-hourlater--alive and well as when I went in. "

"Was your conversation about your engagement?"

"Yes. "

"Was it amicable?"

"No, it was not! Uncle Joseph was more angry than I had ever before seenhim. He declared he intended to make a new will the next morning, whichwould provide only a small income for me. He said this was not revengeor punishment for my loyalty to Mr. Hall, but--but--"

"But what?" I urged gently. 

"It scarcely seems loyal to Mr. Hall for me to say it, " she returned, and the tears were in her eyes. "But this is all confidential. Well, Uncle Joseph said that Gregory only wanted to marry me for my fortune, and that the new will would prove this. Of course I denied that Mr. Hallwas so mercenary, and then we had a good deal of an altercation. Butit was not very different from many discussions we had had on the samesubject, only Uncle was more decided, and said he had asked Mr. Randolphto come the next morning and draw up the new will. I left him stillangry--he wouldn't even say good-night to me--and now I blame myself fornot being more gentle, and trying harder to make peace. But it annoyedme to have him call Gregory mercenary--"

"Because you knew it was true, " I said quietly. 

She turned white to the very lips. "You are unnecessarily impertinent, "she said. 

"I am, " I agreed. "I beg your pardon. " But I had discovered that she didrealize her lover's true nature. 

"And then you went to your room, and stayed there?" I went on, with ameaning emphasis on the last clause. 

"Yes, " she said; "and so, you see, what I have told you casts no lighton the mystery. I only told you so as to explain the bits of the yellowrose. I feared, from what you said, that Mr. Hall's name might possiblybe brought into discussion. "

"Why, he was not in West Sedgwick that night, " I said. 

"Where was he?" she countered quickly. 

"I don't know. He refuses to tell. Of course you must see that hisabsolute refusal to tell where he was that night is, to say the least, an unwise proceeding. "

"He won't even tell me where he was, " she said, sighing. "But it doesn'tmatter. He wasn't here. "

"That's just it, " I rejoined. "If he was not here, it would be farbetter for him to tell where he really was. For the refusal to tellraises a question that will not be downed, except by an alibi. I don'twant to be cruel, Miss Lloyd, but I must make you see that as theinquiry proceeds, the actions of both Mr. Hall and yourself will besubjected to very close scrutiny, and though perhaps undue attentionwill be paid to trifles, yet the trifles must be explained. "

I was so sorry for the girl, that, in my effort not to divulge my toogreat sympathy, I probably used a sterner tone than I realized. 

At any rate, I had wakened her at last to a sense of the danger thatthreatened her and her lover, and now, if she would let me, I would doall in my power to save them both. But I must know all she could tellme. 

"When did Mr. Hall leave you?" I asked. 

"You mean the day--last Tuesday?"

"Yes?"

"He left here about half-past five. He had been in the office with UncleJoseph all the afternoon, and at five o'clock he came in here for acup of tea with me. He almost always comes in at tea-time. Then he leftabout half-past five, saying he was going to New York on the six o'clocktrain. "

"For what purpose?"

"I never ask him questions like that. I knew he was to attend to somebusiness for Uncle the next day, but I never ask him what he doesevenings when he is in the city, or at any time when he is not with me. "

"But surely one might ask such questions of the man to whom she isbetrothed. "

Miss Lloyd again put on that little air of hauteur which alwayseffectually stopped my "impertinence. "

"It is not my habit, " she said. "What Gregory wishes me to know he tellsme of his own accord. "

XIV. MR. PORTER'S VIEWS

I began on a new tack. 

"Miss Lloyd, why did you tell an untruth, and say you did not comedown-stairs again, after going up at ten o'clock?"

Her hauteur disappeared. A frightened, appealing look came into hereyes, and she looked to me like a lovely child afraid of unseen dangers. 

"I was afraid, " she confessed. "Yes, truly, I was afraid that they wouldthink I had something to do with the--with Uncle Joseph's death. And asI didn't think it could do any good to tell of my little visit to him, I just said I didn't come down. Oh, I know it was a lie--I know it waswicked--but I was so frightened, and it was such an easy way out of it, just to deny it. "

"And why have you confessed it to me now?"

Her eyes opened wide in astonishment. 

"I told you why, " she said: "so you would know where the rose leavescame from, and not suspect Gregory. "

"Do you suspect him?"

"N-no, of course not. But others might. "

It is impossible to describe the dismay that smote my heart at thehesitation of this answer. It was more than hesitation. It was aconflict of unspoken impulses, and the words, when they were uttered, seemed to carry hidden meanings, and to my mind they carried the worstand most sinister meaning conceivable. 

To me, it seemed to point unmistakably to collusion between FlorenceLloyd, whom I already loved, and Gregory Hall, whom I already distrustedand disliked. Guilty collusion between these two would explaineverything. Theirs the motive, theirs the opportunity, theirsthe denials and false witnessing. The gold bag, as yet, remainedunexplained, but the yellow rose petals and the late newspaper could beaccounted for if Hall had come out on the midnight train, and Florencehad helped him to enter and leave the house unseen. 

Bah! it was impossible. And, any way, the gold bag remained as proofagainst this horrid theory. I would pin my faith to the gold bag, andthrough its presence in the room, I would defy suspicions of the twopeople I had resolved to protect. 

"What do you think about the gold bag?" I asked. 

"I don't know what to think. I hate to accuse Uncle Joseph of such athing, but it seems as if some woman friend of his must have come to theoffice after I left. The long French windows were open--it was a warmnight, you know--and any one could have come and gone unseen. "

"The bag wasn't there when you were there?"

"I'm sure it was not! That is, not in sight, and Uncle Joseph was notthe sort of man to have such a thing put away in his desk as a souvenir, or for any other reason. "

"Forgive the insinuation, but of course you could not know positivelythat Mr. Crawford would not have a feminine souvenir in his desk. "

She looked up surprised. "Of course I could not be positive, " she said, "but it is difficult to imagine anything sentimental connected withUncle Joseph. "

She almost smiled as she said this, for apparently the mere idea wasamusing, and I had a flashing glimpse of what it must be to see FlorenceLloyd smile! Well it should not be my fault, or due to my lack ofexertion, if the day did not come when she should smile again, andI promised myself I should be there to see it. But stifling thesethoughts, I brought my mind back to duty. Drawing from my pocket thephotograph I had found in Mr. Crawford's desk, I showed it to her. 

"In Uncle's desk!" she exclaimed. "This does surprise me. I had no ideaUncle Joseph had received a photograph from a lady with an affectionatemessage, too. Are you quite sure it belonged to him?"

"I only know that we found it in his desk, hidden beneath some oldletters and papers. "

"Were the letters from this lady?"

"No; in no case could we find a signature that agreed with theseinitials. "

"Here's your chance, Mr. Burroughs, " and again Florence Lloyd's dimplesnearly escaped the bondage which held them during these sad days. "Ifyou're a detective, you ought to gather at once from this photograph andsignature all the details about this lady; who she is, and what she hadto do with Uncle Joseph. "

"I wish I could do so, " I replied, "but you see, I'm not that kind ofdetective. I have a friend, Mr. Stone, who could do it, and would tellyou, as you say, everything about that lady, merely by looking at herpicture. "

As a case in point, I told her then and there the story of FlemingStone's wonderful deductions from the pair of muddy shoes we had seen ina hotel one morning. 

"But you never proved that it was true?" she asked, her dark eyessparkling with interest, and her face alight with animation. 

"No, but it wasn't necessary. Stone's deductions are always right, andif not, you know it is the exception that proves the rule. "

"Well, let us try to deduce a little from this picture. I don't believefor a moment, that Uncle Joseph had a romantic attachment for any lady, though these words on the back of the picture do seem to indicate it. "

"Well, go on, " said I, so carried away by the fascination of the girl, when she had for a moment seemed to forget her troubles, that I wantedto prolong the moment. "Go ahead, and see what inferences you can drawfrom the photograph. "

"I think she is about fifty years old, " Florence began, "or perhapsfifty-five. What do you think?"

"I wouldn't presume to guess a lady's age, " I returned, "and beside, I want you to try your powers on this. You may be better at deductionsthan I am. I have already confessed to you my inability in thatdirection. "

"Well, " she went on, "I think this lady is rather good-looking, and Ithink she appreciates the fact. "

"The first is evident on the face of it, and the second is a universaltruth, so you haven't really deduced much as yet. "

"No, that's so, " and she pouted a little. "But at any rate, I can deducemore about her dress than you can. The picture was taken, or at leastthat costume was made, about a year ago, for that is the style that wasworn then. "

"Marvellous, Holmes, marvellous!"

She flashed me a glance of understanding and appreciation, butundaunted, went on: "The gown also was not made by a competent modiste, but was made by a dressmaker in the house, who came in by the day. Thelady is of an economical turn of mind, because the lace yoke of the gownis an old one, and has even been darned to make it presentable to use inthe new gown. "

"Now that is deduction, " I said admiringly; "the only trouble is, that it doesn't do us much good. Somehow I can't seem to fancy thisgood-looking, economical, middle-aged lady, who has her dressmakingdone at home, coming here in the middle of the night and killing Mr. Crawford. "

"No, I can't, either, " said Florence gravely; "but then, I can't imagineany one else doing that, either. It seems like a horrible dream, and Ican't realize that it really happened to Uncle Joseph. "

"But it did happen, and we must find the guilty person. I think withyou, that this photograph is of little value as a clue, and yet it mayturn out to be. And yet I do think the gold bag is a clue. You are quitesure it isn't yours?"

Perhaps it was a mean way to put the question, but the look ofindignation she gave me helped to convince me that the bag was not hers. 

"I told you it was not, " she said, "but, " and her eyes fell, "sinceI have confessed to one falsehood, of course you cannot believe mystatement. "

"But I do believe it, " I said, and I did, thoroughly. 

"At any rate, it is a sort of proof, " she said, smiling sadly, "that anyone who knows anything about women's fashions can tell you that it isnot customary to carry a bag of that sort when one is in the house andin evening dress. Or rather, in a negligee costume, for I had takenoff my evening gown and wore a tea-gown. I should not think of goinganywhere in a tea-gown, and carrying a gold bag. "

The girl had seemingly grown almost lighthearted. Her speech waspunctuated by little smiles, and her half sad, half gay demeanorbewitched me. I felt sure that what little suggestion oflightheartedness had come into her mood had come because she had at lastconfessed the falsehood she had told, and her freed conscience gave hera little buoyancy of heart. 

But there were still important questions to be asked, so, thoughunwillingly, I returned to the old subject. 

"Did you see your uncle's will while you were there?"

"No; he talked about it, but did not show it to me. "

"Did he talk about it as if it were still in his possession?"

"Why, yes; I think so. That is, he said he would make a new one unlessI gave up Gregory. That implied that the old one was still in existence, though he didn't exactly say so. "

"Miss Lloyd, this is important evidence. I must tell you that I shall beobliged to repeat much of it to the district attorney. It seems to me toprove that your uncle did not himself destroy the will. "

"He might have done so after I left him. "

"I can't think it, for it is not in scraps in the waste-basket, nor arethere any paper-ashes in the grate. "

"Well, then, " she rejoined, "if he didn't destroy it, it may yet befound. "

"You wish that very much?" I said, almost involuntarily. 

"Oh, I do!" she exclaimed, clasping her hands. "Not so much for myselfas--"

She paused, and I finished the sentence for her "For Mr. Hall. "

She looked angry again, but said nothing. 

"Well, Miss Lloyd, " I said, as I rose to go, "I am going to doeverything in my power in your behalf and in behalf of Mr. Hall. But Itell you frankly, unless you will both tell me the truth, and the wholetruth, you will only defeat my efforts, and work your own undoing. "

I had to look away from her as I said this, for I could not look on thatsweet face and say anything even seemingly harsh or dictatorial. 

Her lip quivered. "I will do my best, " she said tremblingly. "I willtry to make Mr. Hall tell where he was that night. I will see you againafter I have talked with him. "

More collusion! I said good-by rather curtly, I fear, and went quicklyaway from that perilous presence. 

Truly, a nice detective, I! Bowled over by a fair face, I was unable tothink clearly, to judge logically, or to work honestly!

Well, I would go home and think it out by myself. Away from herinfluence I surely would regain my cool-headed methods of thought. 

When I reached the inn, I found Mr. Lemuel Porter there waiting for me. 

"How do you do, Mr. Burroughs?" he said pleasantly. "Have you time for ahalf-hour's chat?"

It was just what I wanted. A talk with this clear-thinking man wouldhelp me, indeed, and I determined to get his opinions, even as I wasready to give him mine. 

"Well, what do you think about it all?" I inquired, after we werecomfortably settled at a small table on the shaded veranda, which wasa popular gathering-place at this hour. But in our corner we were in nodanger from listening ears, and I awaited his reply with interest. 

His eyes smiled a little, as he said, "You know the old story of the man who said he wouldn't hire a dog andthen do his own barking. Well, though I haven't 'hired' you, I wouldbe quite ready to pay your honorarium if you can ferret out our WestSedgwick mystery. And so, as you are the detective in charge of thecase, I ask you, what do you think about it all?"

But I was pretty thoroughly on my guard now. 

"I think, " I began, "that much hinges on the ownership of that goldbag. "

"And you do not think it is Miss Lloyd's?"

"I do not. "

"It need not incriminate her, if it were hers, " said Mr. Porter, meditatively knocking the ash from said his cigar. "She might have leftit in the office at any time previous to the day of the crime. Womenare always leaving such things about. I confess it does not seem to meimportant. "

"Was it on Mr. Crawford's desk when you were there?" I asked suddenly. 

He looked up at me quickly, and again that half-smile came into hiseyes. 

"Am I to be questioned?" he said. "Well, I've no objections, I'm sure. No, I do not think it was there when I called on Mr. Crawford thatevening. But I couldn't swear to this, for I am not an observant man, and the thing might have lain there in front of me and never caughtmy eye. If I had noticed it, of course I should have thought it wasFlorence's. "

"But you don't think so now, do you?"

"No; I can't say I think so. And yet I can imagine a girl untruthfullydenying ownership under such circumstances. "

I started at this. For hadn't Miss Lloyd untruthfully denied comingdown-stairs to talk to her uncle?

"But, " went on Mr. Porter, "if the bag is not Florence's, then I canthink of but one explanation for its presence there. "

"A lady visitor, late at night, " I said slowly. 

"Yes, " was the grave reply; "and though such an occurrence might havebeen an innocent one, yet, taken in connection with the crime, there isa dreadful possibility. "

"Granting this, " I suggested, "we ought to be able to trace the owner ofthe bag. "

"Not likely. If the owner of that bag--a woman, presumably--isthe slayer of Joseph Crawford, and made her escape from the sceneundiscovered, she is not likely to stay around where she may be found. And the bag itself, and its contents, are hopelessly unindividual. "

"They are that, " I agreed. "Not a thing in it that mightn't be in anywoman's bag in this country. To me, that cleaner's advertisement meansnothing in connection with Miss Lloyd. "

"I am glad to hear you say that, Mr. Burroughs. I confess I have had ahalf-fear that your suspicions had a trend in Florence's direction, and I assure you, sir, that girl is incapable of the slightest impulsetoward crime. "

"I'm sure of that, " I said heartily, my blood bounding in my veins atan opportunity to speak in defense of the woman I loved. "But how if herimpulses were directed, or even coerced, by another?"

"Just what do you mean by that?"

"Oh, nothing. But sometimes the best and sweetest women will act againsttheir own good impulses for those they love. "

"I cannot pretend to misunderstand you, " said Mr. Porter. "But you arewrong. If the one you have in mind--I will say no name--was in anyway guiltily implicated, it was without the knowledge or connivance ofFlorence Lloyd. But, man, the idea is absurd. The individual in questionhas a perfect alibi. "

"He refuses to give it. "

"Refuses the details, perhaps. And he has a right to, since they concernno one but himself. No, my friend, you know the French rule; well, follow that, and search for the lady with the gold-mesh bag. "

"The lady without it, at present, " I said, with an apologetic smile formy rather grim jest. 

"Yes; and that's the difficulty. As she hasn't the bag, we can'tdiscover her. So as a clue it is worthless. "

"It seems to be, " I agreed. 

I thought best not to tell Mr. Porter of the card I had found in thebag, for I hoped soon to hear from headquarters concerning the ladywhose name it bore. But I told him about the photograph I had found inMr. Crawford's desk, and showed it to him. He did not recognize it asbeing a portrait of any one he had ever seen. Nor did he take it veryseriously as a clue. 

"I'm quite sure, " he said, "that Joseph Crawford has not been interestedin any woman since the death of his wife. He has always seemed devotedto her memory, and as one of his nearest friends, I think I would haveknown if he had formed any other attachment. Of course, in a matterlike this, a man may well have a secret from his nearest friends, butI cannot think this mild and gentle-looking lady is at all concerned inthe tragedy. "

As a matter of fact, I agreed with Mr. Porter, for nothing I haddiscovered among the late Mr. Crawford's effects led me to think he hadany secret romance. 

After Mr. Porter's departure I studied long over my puzzles, and I cameto the conclusion that I could do little more until I should hear fromheadquarters. 

XV. THE PHOTOGRAPH EXPLAINED

That evening I went to see Philip Crawford. As one of the executors ofhis late brother's estate, and as probable heir to the same, he was animportant personage just now. 

He seemed glad to see me, and glad to discuss ways and means of runningdown the assassin. Like Mr. Porter, he attached little importance to thegold bag. 

"I can't help thinking it belongs to Florence, " he said. "I know thegirl so well, and I know that her horrified fear of being in any wayconnected with the tragedy might easily lead her to, disown her ownproperty, thinking the occasion justified the untruth. That girl hasno more guilty knowledge of Joseph's death than I have, and that isabsolutely none. I tell you frankly, Mr. Burroughs, I haven't even aglimmer of a suspicion of any one. I can't think of an enemy my brotherhad; he was the most easy-going of men. I never knew him to quarrel withanybody. So I trust that you, with your detective talent, can at leastfind a clue to lead us in the right direction. "

"You don't admit the gold bag as a clue, then?" I asked. 

"Nonsense! No! If that were a clue, it would point to some woman whocame secretly at night to visit Joseph. My brother was not that sortof man, sir. He had no feminine acquaintances that were unknown to hisrelatives. "

"That is, you suppose so. "

"I know it! We have been brothers for sixty years or more, and whateverJoseph's faults, they did not lie in that direction. No, sir; if thatbag is not Florence's, then there is some other rational and commonplaceexplanation of its presence there. "

"I'm glad to hear you speak so positively, Mr. Crawford, as to yourbrother's feminine acquaintances. And in connection with the subject, Iwould like to show you this photograph which I found in his desk. "

I handed the card to Mr. Crawford, whose features broke into a smile ashe looked at it. 

"Oh, that, " he said; "that is a picture, of Mrs. Patton. " He looked atthe picture with a glance that seemed to be of admiring reminiscence, and he studied the gentle face of the photograph a moment withoutspeaking. 

Then he said, "She was beautiful as a girl. She used to be a schoolfriend of both Joseph and myself. "

"She wrote rather an affectionate message on the back, " I observed. 

Mr. Crawford turned the picture over. 

"Oh, she didn't send this picture to Joseph. She sent it to my wife lastChristmas. I took it over to show it to Joseph some months ago, and leftit there without thinking much about it. He probably laid it in his deskwithout thinking much about it, either. No, no, Burroughs, there isno romance there, and you can't connect Mrs. Patton with any of yourdetective investigations. "

"I rather thought that, Mr. Crawford; for this is evidently a sweet, simple-minded lady, and more over nothing has turned up to indicate thatMr. Crawford had a romantic interest of any kind. "

"No, he didn't. I knew Joseph as I know myself. No; whoever killed mybrother, was a man; some villain who had a motive that I know nothingabout. "

"But you were intimately acquainted with your brother's affairs?"

"Yes, that is what proves to me that whoever this assassin was, it wassome one of whose motive I know nothing. The fact that my brother wasmurdered, proves to me that my brother had an enemy, but I had neversuspected it before. "

"Do you know a Mrs. Egerton Purvis?"

I flung the question at him, suddenly, hoping to catch him unawares. Buthe only looked at me with the blank expression of one who hears a namefor the first time. 

"No, " he answered, "I never heard of her. Who is she?"

"Well, when I was hunting through that gold-mesh bag, I discovered alady's visiting card with that name on it. It had slipped between thelinings, and so had not been noticed before. "

To my surprise, this piece of information seemed to annoy Mr. Crawfordgreatly. 

"No!" he exclaimed. "In the bag? Then some one has put it there! for Ilooked over all the bag's contents myself. "

"It was between the pocket and the lining, " said I; "it is there still, for as I felt sure no one else would discover it, I left it there. Mr. Goodrich has the bag. "

"Oh, I don't want to see it, " he exclaimed angrily. "And I tell youanyway, Mr. Burroughs, that bag is worthless as a clue. Take my advice, and pay no further attention to it. "

I couldn't understand Mr. Crawford's decided attitude against the bag asa clue, but I dropped the subject, for I didn't wish to tell him I hadmade plans to trace up that visiting card. 

"It is difficult to find anything that is a real clue, " I said. 

"Yes, indeed. The whole affair is mysterious, and, for my part, Icannot form even a conjecture as to who the villain might have been. Hecertainly left no trace. "

"Where is the revolver?" I said, picturing the scene in imagination. 

Philip Crawford started as if caught unawares. 

"How do I know?" he cried, almost angrily. "I tell you, I have nosuspicions. I wish I had! I desire, above all things, to bring mybrother's murderer to justice. But I don't know where to look. If theweapon were not missing, I should think it a suicide. "

"The doctor declares it could not have been suicide, even if the weaponhad been found near him. This they learned from the position of his armsand head. "

"Yes, yes; I know it. It was, without doubt, murder. But who--who wouldhave a motive?"

"They say, " I observed, "motives for murder are usually love, revenge, or money. "

"There is no question of love or revenge in this instance. And as formoney, as I am the one who has profited financially, suspicion shouldrest on me. "

"Absurd!" I said. 

"Yes, it is absurd, " he went on, "for had I desired Joseph's fortune, I need not have killed him to acquire it. He told me the day beforehe died that he intended to disinherit Florence, and make me his heir, unless she broke with that secretary of his. I tried to dissuade himfrom this step, for we are not a mercenary lot, we Crawfords, and Ithought I had made him reconsider his decision. Now, as it turns out, hepersisted in his resolve, and was only prevented from carrying it out bythis midnight assassin. We must find that villain, Mr. Burroughs! Do notconsider expense; do anything you can to track him down. "

"Then, Mr. Crawford, " said I, "if you do not mind the outlay, I advisethat we send for Fleming Stone. He is a detective of extraordinarypowers, and I am quite willing to surrender the case to him. "

Philip Crawford eyed me keenly. 

"You give up easily, young man, " he said banteringly. 

"I know it seems so, " I replied, "but I have my reasons. One is, thatFleming Stone makes important deductions from seemingly unimportantclues; and he holds that unless these clues are followed immediately, they are lost sight of and great opportunities are gone. "

"H'm, " mused Philip Crawford, stroking his strong, square chin. "I don'tcare much for these spectacular detectives. Your man, I suppose, wouldglance at the gold bag, and at once announce the age, sex, and previouscondition of servitude of its owner. "

"Just what I have thought, Mr. Crawford. I'm sure he could do justthat. "

"And that's all the good it would do! That bag doesn't belong to thecriminal. "

"How do you know?"

"By common-sense. No woman came to the house in the dead of night andshot my brother, and then departed, taking her revolver with her. Andagain, granting a woman did have nerve and strength enough to dothat, such a woman is not going off leaving her gold bag behind her asevidence!"

This speech didn't affect me much. It was pure conjecture. Women areuncertain creatures, at best; and a woman capable of murder would beequally capable of losing her head afterward, and leaving circumstantialevidence behind her. 

I was sorry Mr. Crawford didn't seem to take to the notion of sendingfor Stone. I wasn't weakening in the case so far as my confidence in myown ability was concerned; but I could see no direction to look excepttoward Florence Lloyd or Gregory Hall, or both. And so I was ready togive up. 

"What do you think of Gregory Hall?" I said suddenly. 

"As a man or as a suspect?" inquired Mr. Crawford. 

"Both. "

"Well, as a man, I think he's about the average, ordinary youngAmerican, of the secretary type. He has little real ambition, but he hashad a good berth with Joseph, and he has worked fairly hard to keep it. As a suspect, the notion is absurd. He wasn't even in West Sedgwick. "

"How do you know?"

"Because he went away at six that evening, and was in New York untilnearly noon the next day. "

"How do you know?"

Philip Crawford stared at me. 

"He says so, " I went on; "but no one can prove his statement. He refusesto say where he was in New York, or what he did. Now, merely as asupposition, why couldn't he have come out here--say on the midnighttrain--called on Mr. Joseph Crawford, and returned to New York beforedaylight?"

"Absurd! Why, he had no motive for killing Joseph. "

"He had the same motive Florence would have. He knew of Mr. Crawford'sobjection to their union, and he knew of his threat to change his will. Mr. Hall is not blind to the advantages of a fortune. "

"Right you are, there! In fact, I always felt he was marrying Florencefor her money. I had no real reason to think this, but somehow he gaveme that impression. "

"Me, too. Moreover, I found a late extra of a New York paper in Mr. Crawford's office. This wasn't on sale until about half past eleven thatnight, so whoever left it there must have come out from the city on thatmidnight train, or later. "

A change came over Philip Crawford's face. Apparently he was brought tosee the whole matter in a new light. 

"What? What's that?" he cried excitedly, grasping his chair-arms andhalf rising. "A late newspaper! An extra!"

"Yes; the liner accident, you know. "

"But--but--Gregory Hall! Why man, you're crazy! Hall is a good fellow. Not remarkably clever, perhaps, and a fortune-hunter, maybe, butnot--surely not a murderer!"

"Don't take it so hard, Mr. Crawford, " I broke in. "Probably. Mr. Hallis innocent. But the late paper must have been left there by some one, after, say, one o'clock. "

"This is awful! This is terrible!" groaned the poor man, and I couldn'thelp wondering if he had some other evidence against Hall that thisseemed to corroborate. 

Then, by an effort, he recovered himself, and began to talk in morenormal tones. 

"Now, don't let this new idea run away with you, Mr. Burroughs, " hesaid. "If Hall had an interview with my brother that night, he wouldhave learned from him that he intended to make a new will, but hadn'tyet done so. "

"Exactly; and that would constitute a motive for putting Mr. Crawfordout of the way before he could accomplish his purpose. "

"But Joseph had already destroyed the will that favored Florence. "

"We don't know that, " I responded gravely. "And, anyway, if he had doneso, Mr. Hall didn't know it. This leaves his motive unchanged. "

"But the gold bag, " said Mr. Crawford, apparently to get away--from thesubject of Gregory Hall. 

"If, as you say, " I began, "that is Florence's bag--"

I couldn't go on. A strange sense of duty had forced those words fromme, but I could say no more. 

Fleming Stone might take the case if they wanted him to; or theymight get some one else. But I could not go on, when the only cluesdiscoverable pointed in a way I dared not look. 

Philip Crawford was ghastly now. His face was working and he breathedquickly. 

"Nonsense, Dad!" cried a strong, young voice, and his son, Philip, Jr. , bounded into the room and grasped his father's hands. "I overheard afew of your last words, and you two are on the wrong track. Florrie's nomore mixed up in that horrible business than I am. Neither is Hall. He's a fool chap, but no villain. I heard what you said about the latenewspaper, but lots of people come out on that midnight train. You mayas well suspect some peaceable citizen coming home from the theatre, asto pick out poor Hall, without a scrap of evidence to point to him. "

I was relieved beyond all words at the hearty assurance of the boy, andI plucked up new courage. Apprehension had made me faint-hearted, butif he could show such flawless confidence in Florence and her betrothed, surely I could do as much. 

"Good for you, young man!" I cried, shaking his hand. "You've cheered meup a lot. I'll take a fresh start, and surely we'll find out something. But I'd like to send for Stone. "

"Wait a bit, wait a bit, " said Mr. Crawford. "Phil's right; there's nopossibility of Florrie or Hall in the matter. Leave the gold bag, thenewspapers, and the yellow posies out of consideration, and go to workin some sensible way. "

"How about Mr. Joseph's finances?" I asked. "Are they in satisfactoryshape?"

"Never finer, " said Philip Crawford. "Joseph was a very rich man, and all due to his own clever and careful investments. A bit of aspeculator, but always on the right side of the market. Why, he fairlyhad a corner in X. Y. Stock. Just that deal--and it will go through in afew days--means a fortune in itself. I shall settle that on Florence. "

"Then you think the will will never be found?" I said. 

Mr. Crawford looked a little ashamed, as well he might, but he only said, "If it is, no one will be more glad than I to see Florrie reinstated inher own right. If no will turns up, Joe's estate is legally mine, but Ishall see that Florence is amply provided for. "

He spoke with a proud dignity, and I was rather sorry I had caught himup so sharply. 

I went back to the inn, and, after vainly racking my brain over it allfor a time, I turned in, but to a miserably broken night's rest. 

XVI. A CALL ON MRS. PURVIS

The next morning I received information from headquarters. It was along-code telegram, and I eagerly deciphered it, to learn that Mrs. Egerton Purvis was an English lady who was spending a few months inNew York City. She was staying at the Albion Hotel, and seemed to be inevery way above suspicion of any sort. 

Of course I started off at once to see Mrs. Purvis. 

Parmalee came just as I was leaving the inn, and was of course anxiousand inquisitive to know where I was going, and what I was going to do. 

At first I thought I would take him into my confidence, and I eventhought of taking him with me. But I felt sure I could do better workalone. It might be that Mrs. Egerton Purvis should turn out to be animportant factor in the case, and I suppose it was really an instinct ofvanity that made me prefer to look her up without Parmalee by my side. 

So I told him that I was going to New York on a matter in connectionwith the case, but that I preferred to go alone, but I would tell himthe entire result of my mission as soon as I returned. I think he wasa little disappointed, but he was a good-natured chap, and bade me acheerful goodby, saying he would meet me on my return. 

I went to New York and went straight to the Albion Hotel. 

Learning at the desk that the lady was really there, I sent my card upto her with a request for an immediate audience, and very soon I wassummoned to her apartment. 

She greeted me with that air of frigid reserve typical of an Englishwoman. Though not unattractive to look at, she possessed the highcheekbones and prominent teeth which are almost universal in the womenof her nation. She was perhaps between thirty and forty years old, andhad the air of a grande dame. 

"Mr. Burroughs?" she said, looking through her lorgnon at my card, whichshe held in her hand. 

"Yes, " I assented, and judging from her appearance that she was a womanof a decided and straightforward nature I came at once to the point. 

"I'm a detective, madam, " I began, and the remark startled her out ofher calm. 

"A detective!" she cried out, with much the same tone as if I had said arattlesnake. 

"Do not be alarmed, I merely state my profession to explain my errand. "

"Not be alarmed! when a detective comes to see me! How can I help it?Why, I've never had such an experience before. It is shocking! I've metmany queer people in the States, but not a detective! Reporters are badenough!"

"Don't let it disturb you so, Mrs. Purvis. I assure you there is nothingto trouble you in the fact of my presence here, unless it is trouble ofyour own making. "

"Trouble of my own making!" she almost shrieked. "Tell me at once whatyou mean, or I shall ring the bell and have you dismissed. "

Her fear and excitement made me think that perhaps I was on the trackof new developments, and lest she should carry out her threat of ringingthe bell, I plunged at once into the subject. 

"Mrs. Purvis, have you lost a gold-mesh bag?" I said bluntly. 

"No, I haven't, " she snapped, "and if I had, I should take means torecover it, and not wait for a detective to come and ask me about it. "

I was terribly disappointed. To be sure she might be telling a falsehoodabout the bag, but I didn't think so. She was angry, annoyed, and alittle frightened at my intrusion, but she was not at all embarrassed atmy question. 

"Are you quite sure you have not lost a gold-link bag?" I insisted, asif in idiotic endeavor to persuade her to have done so. 

"Of course I'm sure, " she replied, half laughing now; "I suppose Ishould know it if I had done so. "

"It's a rather valuable bag, " I went on, "with a gold frame-work andgold chain. "

"Well, if it's worth a whole fortune, it isn't my bag, " she declared;"for I never owned such a one. "

"Well, " I said, in desperation, "your visiting card is in it. "

"My visiting card!" she said, with an expression of blank wonderment. "Well, even if that is true, it doesn't make it my bag. I frequentlygive my cards to other people. "

This seemed to promise light at last. Somehow I couldn't doubt herassertion that it was not her bag, and yet the thought suddenly occurredto me if she were clever enough to be implicated in the Crawfordtragedy, and if she had left her bag there, she would be expecting thisinquiry, and would probably be clever enough to have a story prepared. 

"Mrs. Purvis, since you say it is not your bag, I'm going to ask you, inthe interests of justice, to help me all you can. "

"I'm quite willing to do so, sir. What is it you wish to know?"

"A crime has been committed in a small town in New Jersey. A gold-linkbag was afterward discovered at the scene of the crime, and though noneof its other contents betokened its owner, a visiting card with yourname on it was in the bag. "

Becoming interested in the story, Mrs. Purvis seemed to get over herfright, and was exceedingly sensible for a woman. 

"It certainly is not my bag, Mr. Burroughs, and if my card is in it, Ican only say that I must have given that card to the lady who owns thebag. "

This seemed distinctly plausible, and also promised further information. 

"Do you remember giving your card to any lady with such a bag?"

Mrs. Purvis smiled. "So many of your American women carry those bags, "she said; "they seem to be almost universal this year. I have probablygiven my card to a score of ladies, who immediately put it into justsuch a bag. "

"Could you tell me who they are?"

"No, indeed;" and Mrs. Purvis almost laughed outright, at what wasdoubtless a foolish question. 

"But can't you help me in any way?" I pleaded. 

"I don't really see how I can, " she replied. "You see I have so manyfriends in New York, and they make little parties for me, or afternoonteas. Then I meet a great many American ladies, and we often exchangecards. But we do it so often that of course I can't remember everyparticular instance. Have you the card you speak of?"

I thanked my stars that I had been thoughtful enough to obtain the cardbefore leaving West Sedgwick, and taking it from my pocket-book, I gaveit to her. 

"Oh, that one!" she said; "perhaps I can help you a little, Mr. Burroughs. That is an old-fashioned card, one of a few left over from anold lot. I have been using them only lately, because my others gaveout. I have really gone much more into society in New York than I hadanticipated, and my cards seemed fairly to melt away. I ordered some newones here, but before they were sent to me I was obliged to use a few ofthese old-fashioned ones. I don't know that this would help you, but Ithink I can tell pretty nearly to whom I gave those cards. "

It seemed a precarious sort of a chance, but as I talked with Mrs. Purvis, I felt more and more positive that she herself was notimplicated in the Crawford case. However, it was just as well to makecertain. She had gone to her writing-desk, and seemed to be looking overa diary or engagement book. 

"Mrs. Purvis, " I said, "will you tell me where you were on Tuesdayevening of last week?"

"Certainly;" and she turned back the leaves of the book. "I went to atheatre party with my friends, the Hepworths; and afterward, we went toa little supper at a restaurant. I returned here about midnight. Must Iprove this?" she added, smiling; "for I can probably do so, by the hotelclerk and by my maid. And, of course, by my friends who gave the party. "

"No, you needn't prove it, " I answered, certain now that she knewnothing of the Crawford matter; "but I hope you can give me moreinformation about your card. "

"Why, I remember that very night, I gave my cards to two ladies who wereat the theatre with us; and I remember now that at that time I had onlythese old-fashioned cards. I was rather ashamed of them, for Americansare punctilious in such matters; and now that I think of it, one of theladies was carrying a gold-mesh bag. "

"Who was she?" I asked, hardly daring to hope that I had really struckthe trail. 

"I can't seem to remember her name, but perhaps it will come to me. Itwas rather an English type of name, something like Coningsby. "

"Where did she live?"

"I haven't the slightest idea. You see I meet these ladies so casually, and I really never expect to see any of them again. Our exchange ofcards is a mere bit of formal courtesy. No, I can't remember her name, or where she was from. But I don't think she was a New Yorker. "

Truly it was hard to come so near getting what might be vitalinformation, and yet have it beyond my grasp! It was quite evident thatMrs. Purvis was honestly trying to remember the lady's name, but couldnot do so. 

And then I had what seemed to me an inspiration. "Didn't she give youher card?" I asked. 

A light broke over Mrs. Purvis's face. "Why, yes, of course she did! AndI'm sure I can find it. "

She turned to a card-tray, and rapidly running over the bits ofpasteboard, she selected three or four. 

"Here they are, " she exclaimed, "all here together. I mean all the cardsthat were given me on that particular evening. And here is the name Icouldn't think of. It is Mrs. Cunningham. I remember distinctly thatshe carried a gold bag, and no one else in the party did, for we wereadmiring it. And here is her address on the card; Marathon Park, NewJersey. "

I almost fainted, myself, with the suddenness of the discovery. HadI really found the name and address of the owner of the gold bag? Ofcourse there might be a slip yet, but the evidence seemed clear thatMrs. Cunningham, of Marathon Park, owned the bag that had been thesubject of so much speculation. 

I had no idea where Marathon Park might be, but that was a mere detail. I thanked Mrs. Purvis sincerely for the help she had given me, and Iwas glad I had not told her that her casual acquaintance was perhapsimplicated in a murder mystery. 

I made my adieux and returned at once to West Sedgwick. 

As he had promised, Parmalee met me at the station, and I told him thewhole story, for I thought him entitled to the information at once. 

"Why, man alive!" he exclaimed, "Marathon Park is the very next stationto West Sedgwick!"

"So it is!" I said; "I knew I had a hazy idea of having seen the name, but the trains I have taken to and from New York have been expresses, which didn't stop there, and I paid no attention to it. "

"It's a small park, " went on Parmalee, "of swagger residences; veryexclusive and reserved, you know. You've certainly unearthed startlingnews, but I can't help thinking that it will be a wild goose chase thatleads us to look for our criminal in Marathon Park!"

"What do you think we'd better do?" said I. "Go to see Mrs. Cunningham?"

"No, I wouldn't do that, " said Parmalee, who had a sort of plebeianhesitancy at the thought of intruding upon aristocratic strangers. "Suppose you write her a letter and just ask her if she has lost herbag. "

"All right, " I conceded, for truth to tell, I greatly preferred to stayin West Sedgwick than to go out of it, for I had always the undefinedhope of seeing Florence Lloyd. 

So I wrote a letter, not exactly curt, but strictly formal, asking Mrs. Cunningham if she had recently lost a gold-mesh bag, containing hergloves and handkerchief. 

Then Parmalee and I agreed to keep the matter a secret until we shouldget a reply to this, for we concluded there was no use in stirring uppublic curiosity on the matter until we knew ourselves that we were onthe right trail. 

XVII. THE OWNER OF THE GOLD BAG

The next day I received a letter addressed in modish, angularpenmanship, which, before I opened it, I felt sure had come from Mrs. Cunningham. It ran as follows, Mr. HERBERT Burroughs, Dear Sir: Yes, I have lost a gold bag, and I have known all along thatit is the one the newspapers are talking so much about in connectionwith the Crawford case. I know, too, that you are the detective on thecase, and though I can't imagine how you did it, I think it was awfullyclever of you to trace the bag to me, for I'm sure my name wasn't in itanywhere. As I say, the bag is mine, but I didn't kill Mr. Crawford, andI don't know who did. I would go straight to you, and tell you all aboutit, but I am afraid of detectives and lawyers, and I don't want to bemixed up in the affair anyway. But I am going to see Miss Lloyd, andexplain it all to her, and then she can tell you. Please don't let myname get in the papers, as I hate that sort of prominence. 

Very truly yours, ELIZABETH CUNNINGHAM. 

I smiled a little over the femininity of the letter, but as Parmaleehad prophesied, Marathon Park was evidently no place to look for ourcriminal. 

The foolish little woman who had written that letter, had no guiltysecret on her conscience, of that I was sure. 

I telephoned for Parmalee and showed him the letter. 

"It doesn't help us in one way, " he said, "for of course, Mrs. Cunningham is not implicated. But the bag is still a clue, for how didit get into Mr. Crawford's office?"

"We must find out who Mr. Cunningham is, " I suggested. 

"He's not the criminal, either. If he had left his wife's bag there, henever would have let her send this letter. "

"Perhaps he didn't know she wrote it. "

"Oh, perhaps lots of things! But I am anxious to learn what Mrs. Cunningham tells Miss Lloyd. "

"Let us go over to the Crawford house, and tell Miss Lloyd about it. "

"Not this morning; I've another engagement. And besides, the little ladywon't get around so soon. "

"Why a little lady?" I asked, smiling. 

"Oh, the whole tone of the letter seems to imply a little yellow-hairedbutterfly of a woman. "

"Just the reverse of Florence Lloyd, " I said musingly. 

"Yes; no one could imagine Miss Lloyd writing a letter like that. There's lots of personality in a woman's letter. Much more than in aman's. "

Parmalee went away, and prompted by his suggestions, I studied theletter I had just received. It was merely an idle fancy, for if Mrs. Cunningham was going to tell Miss Lloyd her story, it made littledifference to me what might be her stature or the color of her hair. But, probably because of Parmalee's suggestion, I pictured her tomyself as a pretty young woman with that air of half innocence and halfignorance which so well becomes the plump blonde type. 

The broad veranda of the Sedgwick Arms was a pleasant place to sit, andI had mused there for some time, when Mr. Carstairs came out to tellme that I was asked for on the telephone. The call proved to be fromFlorence Lloyd asking me to come to her at once. 

Only too glad to obey this summons, I went directly to the Crawfordhouse, wondering if any new evidence had been brought to light. 

Lambert opened the door for me, and ushered me into the library, whereFlorence was receiving a lady caller. 

"Mrs. Cunningham, " said Florence, as I entered, "may I present Mr. Burroughs--Mr. Herbert Burroughs. I sent for you, " she added, turningto me, "because Mrs. Cunningham has an important story to tell, and Ithought you ought to hear it at once. "

I bowed politely to the stranger, and awaited her disclosures. 

Mrs. Cunningham was a pretty, frivolous-looking woman, with appealingblue eyes, and a manner half-childish, half-apologetic. 

I smiled involuntarily to see how nearly her appearance coincidedwith the picture in my mind, and I greeted her almost as if she were aprevious acquaintance. 

"I know I've done very wrong, " she began, with a nervous little flutterof her pretty hands; "but I'm ready now to 'fess up, as the childrensay. "

She looked at me, so sure of an answering smile, that I gave it, andsaid, "Let us hear your confession, Mrs. Cunningham; I doubt if it's a verydreadful one. "

"Well, you see, " she went on, "that gold bag is mine. "

"Yes, " I said; "how did it get here?"

"I've no idea, " she replied, and I could see that her shallow naturefairly exulted in the sensation she was creating. "I went to New Yorkthat night, to the theatre, and I carried my gold bag, and I left it inthe train when I got out at the station. "

"West Sedgwick?" I asked. 

"No; I live at Marathon Park, the next station to this. "

"Next on the way to New York?"

"Yes. And when I got out of the train--I was with my husband and someother people--we had been to a little theatre party--I missed thebag. But I didn't tell Jack, because I knew he'd scold me for being socareless. I thought I'd get it back from the Lost and Found Department, and then, the very next day, I read in the paper about the--the--awfulaccident, and it told about a gold bag being found here. "

"You recognized it as yours?"

"Of course; for the paper described everything in it--even to thecleaner's advertisement that I'd just cut out that very day. "

"Why didn't you come and claim it at once?"

"Oh, Mr. Burroughs, you must know why I didn't! Why, I was scared 'mostto death to read the accounts of the terrible affair; and to mix in it, myself--ugh! I couldn't dream of anything so horrible. "

It was absurd, but I had a desire to shake the silly little bundle offemininity who told this really important story, with the twitters andsimpers of a silly school-girl. 

"And you would not have come, if I had not written you?"

She hesitated. "I think I should have come soon, even without yourletter. "

"Why, Mrs. Cunningham?"

"Well, I kept it secret as long as I could, but yesterday Jack saw thatI had something on my mind. I couldn't fool him any longer. "

"As to your having a mind!" I said to myself, but I made no commentaloud. 

"So I told him all about it, and he said I must come at once and tellMiss Lloyd, because, you see, they thought it was her bag all the time. "

"Yes, " I said gravely; "it would have been better if you had come atfirst, with your story. Have you any one to substantiate it, or anyproofs that it is the truth?"

The blue eyes regarded me with an injured expression. Then shebrightened again. 

"Oh, yes, I can `prove property'; that's what you mean, isn't it? I cantell you which glove finger is ripped, and just how much money is in thebag, and--and here's a handkerchief exactly like the one I carried thatnight. Jack said if I told you all these things, you'd know it's my bag, and not Miss Lloyd's. "

"And then, there was a card in it. "

"A card? My card?"

"No, not your card; a card with another name on it. Don't you knowwhose?"

Mrs. Cunningham thought for a moment. Then, "Oh, yes!" she exclaimed. "Mrs. Purvis gave me her card, and I tucked it in the pocket of the bag. Was that the way you discovered the bag was mine? And how did that makeyou know it. "

"I'll tell you about that some other time if you wish, Mrs. Cunningham;but just now I want to get at the important part of your story. How didyour gold bag get in Mr. Crawford's office?"

"Ah, how did it?" The laughing face was sober now and she seemedappalled at the question. "Jack says some one must have found it in thecar-seat where I left it, and he"--she lowered her voice--"he must bethe--"

"The murderer, " I supplied calmly. "It does look that way. You havewitnesses, I suppose, who saw you in that train?"

"Mercy, yes! Lots of them. The train reaches Marathon Park at 12: 50, and is due here at one o'clock. Ever so many people got out at ourstation. There were six in our own party, and others besides. And theconductor knows me, and everybody knows Jack. He's Mr. John Le RoyCunningham. "

It was impossible to doubt all this. Further corroboration it might bewell to get, but there was not the slightest question in my mind as tothe little lady's truthfulness. 

"I thank you, Mrs. Cunningham, " I said, "for coming to us with yourstory. You may not be able to get your bag to-day, but I assure you itwill, be sent to you as soon as a few inquiries can be made. Theseare merely for the sake of formalities, for, as you say, your fellowtownspeople can certify to your presence on the train, and your leavingit at the Marathon Park station. "

"Yes, " she replied; "and"--she handed me a paper--"there's my husband'saddress, and his lawyer's address, and the addresses of all the peoplethat were in our party that night. Jack said you might like to have thelist. He would have come himself to-day, only he's fearfully busy. And Isaid I didn't mind coming alone, just to see Miss Lloyd. I wouldn'thave gone to a jury meeting, though. And I'm in no hurry for the bag. In fact, I don't care much if I never get it. It wasn't the value ofthe thing that made me come at all, but the fear that my bag might maketrouble for Miss Lloyd. Jack said it might. I don't see how, myself, but I'm a foolish little thing, with no head for business matters. " Sheshook her head, and gurgled an absurd little laugh, and then, after aloquacious leave-taking, she went away. 

"Well?" I said to Florence, and then, "Well?" Florence said to me. 

It was astonishing how rapidly our acquaintance had progressed. Alreadywe had laid aside all formality of speech and manner, and if the girlhad not really discovered my mental attitude toward her, at least Ithink she must have suspected it. 

"Of course, " I began, "I knew it wasn't your bag, because you said itwasn't. But I did incline a little to the `woman visitor' theory, andnow that is destroyed. I think we must conclude that the bag was broughthere by the person who found it on that midnight train. "

"Why didn't that person turn it over to the conductor?" she said, moreas if thinking to herself than speaking to me. 

"Yes, why, indeed?" I echoed. "And if he brought it here, and committeda criminal act, why go away and leave it here?"

I think it was at the same moment that the minds of both of us turnedto Gregory Hall. Her eyes fell, and as for me, I was nearly stunned withthe thoughts that came rushing to my brain. 

If the late newspaper had seemed to point to Hall's coming out on thatlate train, how much more so this bag, which had been left on that verytrain. 

We were silent for a time, and then, lifting her sweet eyes bravely tomine, Florence said, "I have something to tell you. "

"Yes, " I replied, crushing down the longing to take her in my arms andlet her tell it there. 

"Mr. Hall had a talk with me this morning. He says that he and theothers have searched everywhere possible for the will, and it cannotbe found. He says Uncle Joseph must have destroyed it, and that it ispractically settled that Uncle Philip is the legal heir. Of course, Mr. Philip Crawford isn't my uncle, but I have always called him that, andPhil and I have been just like cousins. "

"What else did Mr. Hall say?" I asked, for I divined that the difficultpart of her recital was yet to come. 

"He said, " she went on, with a rising color, "that he wished me to breakour engagement. "

I will do myself the justice to say that although my firstuncontrollable thought was one of pure joy at this revelation, yet itwas instantly followed by sympathy and consideration for her. 

"Why?" I asked in a voice that I tried to keep from being hard. 

"He says, " she continued, with a note of weariness in her voice, "thathe is not a rich man, and cannot give me the comforts and luxuries towhich I have been accustomed, and that therefore it is only right forhim to release me. "

"Of course you didn't accept his generous sacrifice, " I said; and my ownhopes ran riot as I listened for her answer. 

"I told him I was willing to share poverty with him, " she said, with aquiet dignity, as if telling an impersonal tale, "but he insisted thatthe engagement should be broken. "

"And is it?" I asked eagerly, almost breathlessly. 

She gave me that look which always rebuked me--always put me back in myplace--but which, it seemed to me, was a little less severe than everbefore. "It's left undecided for a day or two, " she said. Then she addedhurriedly, "I must see if he needs me. Do you suppose this story of Mrs. Cunningham's will in any way--well, affect him?"

"It may, " I replied truthfully. "At any rate, he must be made to tellwhere he was and what he was doing Tuesday night. You have no idea, haveyou?"

Florence hesitated a moment, looked at me in a way I could not fathom, and then, but only after a little choking sound in her throat, she said, "No, I have no idea. "

It was impossible to believe her. No one would show such emotion, suchdifficulty of speech, if telling a simple truth. Yet when I looked inher troubled eyes, and read there anxiety, uncertainty, and misery, Ionly loved her more than ever. Truly it was time for me to give up thiscase. Whatever turn it took, I was no fit person to handle clues orevidence which filled me with deadly fear lest they turn against the oneI loved. 

And yet that one, already suspected by many, had been proved to haveboth motive and opportunity. 

And I, I who loved her, knew that, in one instance, at least, she hadbeen untruthful. 

Yes, it was high time for me to give this case into other hands. 

I looked at her again, steadily but with a meaning in my glance that Ihoped she would understand. I wanted her to know, that though of coursejustice was my end and aim, yet I was sure the truth could not implicateher, and if it did implicate Mr. Hall, the sooner we discovered it thebetter. 

I think she appreciated my meaning, for the troubled look in her owneyes disappeared, and she seemed suddenly almost willing to give me herfull confidence. 

I resolved to make the most of my opportunity. 

"Of course you know, " I said gently, "that I want to believe all you sayto me. But, Miss Lloyd, your naturally truthful nature so rebels atyour unveracity, that it is only too plain to be seen when you are nottelling the truth. Now, I do not urge you, but I ask you to tell me, confidentially if you choose, what your surmise is as to Mr. Hall'sstrange reticence. "

"It is only a surmise, " she said, and though the troubled look came backto her eyes, she looked steadily at me. "And I have no real reason evento think it, but I can't help feeling that Gregory is interested in someother woman beside myself. "

Again I felt that uncontrollable impulse of satisfaction at thisdisclosure, and again I stifled it. I endeavored to treat the matterlightly. "Is that all?" I asked; "do you mean that perhaps Mr. Hall wascalling on some other lady acquaintance that evening?"

"Yes, that is what I do mean. And, as I say, I have no real reason tothink it. But still, Mr. Burroughs, if it were true, I cannot agree withyou that it is unimportant. Surely a man is not expected to call on onewoman when he is betrothed to another, or at least, not to make a secretof it. "

I thoroughly agreed with her, and my opinion that Hall was a cadreceived decided confirmation. 

"My treating it as a light matter, Miss Lloyd, was not quite sincere. Indeed, I may as well confess that it was partly to cover the tooserious interest I take in the matter. "

She looked up, startled at this, but as my eyes told her a certaintruth I made no effort to conceal, she looked down again, and her lipquivered. 

I pulled myself together. "Don't think I am taking advantage of yourconfidence, " I said gently; "I want only to help you. Please consider mean impersonal factor, and let me do all I can for you. For the moment, let us suppose your surmise is correct. This would, of course, free Mr. Hall from any implication of crime. "

"Yes, and while I can't suspect him of anything like crime, I hate, also, to suspect him of disloyalty to me. "

Her head went up with a proud gesture, and I suddenly knew that thethought of Hall's interest in another woman, affected her pride and hersense of what was due her, far more than it did her heart. Her fear wasnot so much that Hall loved another woman, as that his secrecy in thematter meant a slight to her own dignified position. 

"I understand, Miss Lloyd, and I hope for the sake of all concerned, your surmise is not correct. But, with your permission, I feel it myduty to discover where Mr. Hall was that evening, even if to do this itis necessary to have professional assistance from headquarters. "

She shuddered at this. "It is so horrid, " she said, "to spy upon agentleman's movements, if he is only engaged in his personal affairs. "

"If we were sure of that, we need not spy upon him. But to the eyeof justice there is always the possibility that he was not about hispersonal affairs that evening, but was here in West Sedgwick. "

"You don't really suspect him, do you?" she said; and she looked at meas if trying to read my very soul. 

"I'm afraid I do, " I answered gravely; "but not so much from evidenceagainst him, as because I don't know where else to look. Do you?"

"No, " said Florence Lloyd. 

XVIII. IN Mr. GOODRICH'S OFFICE

As was my duty I went next to the district attorney's office to tellhim about Mrs. Cunningham and the gold bag, and to find out from himanything I could concerning Gregory Hall. I found Mr. Porter callingthere, and both he and Mr. Goodrich welcomed me as a possible bringer offresh news. When I said that I did know of new developments, Mr. Porterhalf rose from his chair. 

"I dare say I've no business here, " he said; "but you know the deepinterest I take in this whole matter. Joseph Crawford was my lifelongfriend and near neighbor, and if I can be in any way instrumental infreeing Florence from this web of suspicion--"

I turned on him angrily, and interrupted him by saying, "Excuse me, Mr. Porter; no one has as yet voiced a suspicion againstMiss Lloyd. For you to put such a thought into words, is starting a mineof trouble. "

The older man looked at me indulgently, and I think his shrewdperceptions told him at once that I was more interested in Miss Lloydthan a mere detective need be. 

"You are right, " he said; "but I considered this a confidentialsession. "

"It is, " broke in Mr. Goodrich, "and if you will stay, Mr. Porter, Ishall be glad to have you listen to whatever Mr. Burroughs has to tellus, and then give us the benefit of your advice. "

I practically echoed the district attorney's words, for I knew LemuelPorter to be a clear-headed and well-balanced business man, and hisopinions well worth having. 

So it was to two very interested hearers that I related first the storyof Florence's coming downstairs at eleven o'clock on the fatal night, for a final endeavor to gain her uncle's consent to her betrothal. 

"Then it was her bag!" exclaimed Mr. Porter. "I thought so all thetime. "

I said nothing at the moment and listened for Mr. Goodrich's comment. 

"To my mind, " said the district attorney slowly, "this story, told nowby Miss Lloyd, is in her favor. If the girl were guilty, or had anyguilty knowledge of the crime, she would not have told of this matterat all. It was not forced from her; she told it voluntarily, and I, forone, believe it. "

"She told it, " said I, "because she wished to take the responsibilityof the fallen rose petals upon herself. Since we are speaking plainly, I may assure you, gentlemen, that she told of her later visit to theoffice because I hinted to her that the yellow leaves might implicateGregory Hall. "

"Then, " said Mr. Goodrich triumphantly, "she herself suspects Mr. Hall, which proves that she is innocent. "

"It doesn't prove her innocent of collusion, " observed Mr. Porter. 

"Nor does it prove that she suspects Mr. Hall, " I added. "It merelyshows that she fears others may suspect him. "

"It is very complicated, " said the district attorney. 

"It is, " I agreed, "and that is why I wish to send for the famousdetective, Fleming Stone. "

"Stone! Nonsense!" exclaimed Mr. Goodrich. "I have every confidence inyour skill, Mr. Burroughs; I would not insult you by calling in anotherdetective. "

"Surely not, " agreed Mr. Porter. "If you need help, Mr. Burroughs, confer with our local man, Mr. Parmalee. He's a pretty clever chap, andI don't know why you two don't work more together. "

"We do work together, " said I. "Mr. Parmalee is both clever andcongenial, and we have done our best in the matter. But the days aregoing by and little of real importance has been discovered. However, I haven't told you as yet, the story of the gold bag. I have found itsowner. "

Of course there were exclamations of surprise at this, but realizing itsimportance they quietly listened to my story. 

With scarcely a word of interruption from my hearers, I told them how Ihad found the card in the bag, how I had learned about Mrs. Purvis fromheadquarters, how I had gone to see her, and how it had all resulted inMrs. Cunningham's visit to Miss Lloyd that morning. 

"Well!" exclaimed Mr. Porter, as I concluded the narrative. "Well!Of all things! Well, I am amazed! Why, this gives a wide scope ofpossibilities. Scores of our people come out on that theatre train everynight. "

"But not scores of people would have a motive for putting JosephCrawford out of the way, " said Mr. Goodrich, who sat perplexedlyfrowning. 

Then, by way of a trump card, I told them of the "extra" edition of theevening paper I had found in the office. 

The district attorney stared at me, but still sat frowning and silent. 

But Mr. Porter expressed his wonderment. 

"How it all fits in!" he cried. "The bag, known to be from that latetrain; the paper, known to have been bought late in New York! Burroughs, you're a wonder! Indeed, we don't want any Fleming Stone, when you cando such clever sleuthing as this. "

I stared at him. Nothing I had done seemed to me "clever sleuthing, " nordid my simple discoveries seem to me of any great significance. 

"I don't like it, " said Mr. Goodrich, at last. "Everything so far known, both early and late information, seems to me to point to Gregory Halland Florence Lloyd in collusion. "

"But you said, " I interrupted, "that Miss Lloyd's confession that shedid go down-stairs late at night was in her favor. "

"I said that before I knew about this bag story. Now I think the case isaltered, and the two who had real motive are undoubtedly the suspects. "

"But they had no motive, " said Mr. Porter, "since Florence doesn'tinherit the fortune. "

"But they thought she did, " explained the district attorney, "and so themotive was just as strong. Mr. Burroughs, I wish you would confer withMr. Parmalee, and both of you set to work on the suggestions Ihave advanced. It is a painful outlook, to be sure, but justice isinexorable. You agree with me, Mr. Porter?"

Mr. Porter started, as if he, too, had been in a brown study. 

"I do and I don't, " he said. "Personally, I think both those youngpeople are innocent, but if I am correct, no harm will be done by afurther investigation of their movements on Tuesday night. I think Mr. Hall ought to tell where he was that night, if only in self-defense. If he proves he was in New York, and did not come out here, it will notonly clear him, but also Florence. For I think no one suspects her ofanything more than collusion with him. "

Of course I had no mind to tell these men what Florence had told meconfidentially about Mr. Hall's possible occupation Tuesday evening. They were determined to investigate that very question, and so, if hersurmise were correct, it would disclose itself. 

"Very well, " I said, after listening to a little further discussion, which was really nothing but repetition, "then I will consult with Mr. Parmalee, and we will try to make further investigation of Mr. Hall'sdoings. But I'm ready to admit that it does not look easy to me todiscover anything of importance. Mr. Hall is a secretive man, and unlesswe have a definite charge against him it is difficult to make him talk. "

"Well, you can certainly learn something, " said Mr. Goodrich. "At anyrate devote a few days to the effort. I have confidence in you, Mr. Burroughs, and I don't think you need call in a man whom you consideryour superior. But if you'll excuse me for making a suggestion, letme ask you to remember that a theory of Hall's guilt also possiblyimplicates Miss Lloyd. You will probably discover this for yourself, butdon't let your natural chivalry toward a woman, and perhaps a personalelement in this case, blind you to the facts. "

Although he put it delicately, I quite understood that he had noticedmy personal interest in Florence Lloyd, and so, as it was my duty todisregard that interest in my work, I practically promised to rememberhis injunction. 

It was then that I admitted to myself the true state of my mind. I feltsure Florence was innocent, but I knew appearances were strongly againsther, and I feared I should bungle the case because of the very intensityof my desire not to. And I thought that Fleming Stone, in spite ofevidence, would be able to prove what I felt was the truth, thatFlorence was guiltless of all knowledge of or complicity in her uncle'sdeath. 

However, I had promised to go on with the quest, and I urged myself on, with the hope that further developments might clear Florence, even ifthey more deeply implicated Gregory Hall. 

I went back to the inn, and spent some time in thinking over the matter, and methodically recording my conclusions. And, while I thought, Ibecame more and more convinced that, whether Florence connived ornot, Hall was the villain, and that he had actually slain his employerbecause he had threatened to disinherit his niece. 

Perhaps when Hall came to the office, late that night, Mr. Crawford wasalready engaged in drawing up the new will, and in order to purloinit Hall had killed him, not knowing that the other will was alreadydestroyed. And destroyed it must be, for surely Hall had no reason tosteal or suppress the will that favored Florence. 

As a next move, I decided to interview Mr. Hall. 

Such talks as I had had with him so far, had been interrupted andunsatisfactory. Now I would see him alone, and learn something from hismanner and appearance. 

I found him, as I had expected, in the office of his late employer. Hewas surrounded with papers, and was evidently very busy, but he greetedme with a fair show of cordiality, and offered me a chair. 

"I want to talk to you plainly, Mr. Hall, " I said, "and as I see you'rebusy, I will be as brief as possible. "

"I've been expecting you, " said he calmly. "In fact, I'm rathersurprised that you haven't been here before. "

"Why?" said I, eying him closely. 

"Only because the inquiries made at the inquest amounted to very little, and I assumed you would question all the members of the householdagain. "

"I'm not sure that's necessary, " I responded, following his example inadopting a light, casual tone. "I have no reason to suspect that theservants told other than the exact truth. I have talked to both theladies, and now I've only a few questions to put to you. "

He looked up, surprised at my self-satisfied air. 

"Have you nailed the criminal?" he asked, with a greater show ofinterest than he had before evinced. 

"Not exactly nailed him, perhaps. But we fancy we are on the scent. "

"Resent what?" he asked, looking blank. 

"I didn't say `resent. ' I said, we are on the scent. "

"Oh, yes. And in what direction does it lead you?"

"In your direction, " I said, willing to try what effect bluntness mighthave upon this composed young man. 

"I beg your pardon?" he said, as if he hadn't heard me. 

"Evidences are pointing toward you as the criminal, " I said, determinedto disturb his composure if I could. 

Instead of showing surprise or anger, he gave a slight smile, as onewould at an idea too ridiculous to be entertained for an instant. Somehow, that smile was more convincing to me than any verbalprotestation could have been. 

Then I realized that the man was doubtless a consummate actor, andhe had carefully weighed the value of that supercilious smile againstasseverations of innocence. So I went on:

"When did you first learn of the accident to the Atlantic liner, theNorth America?"

"I suppose you mean that question for a trap, " he said coolly; "but Ihaven't the least objection to answering it. I bought a late 'extra' inNew York City the night of the disaster. "

"At what hour did you buy it?"

"I don't know exactly. It was some time after midnight. "

Really, there was little use in questioning this man. If he had boughthis paper at half-past eleven, as I felt positive he did, and if he hadcome out to Sedgwick on the twelve o'clock train, he was quite capableof answering me in this casual way, to throw me off the track. 

Well, I would try once again. 

"Excuse me, Mr. Hall, but I am obliged to ask you some personalquestions now. Are you engaged to Miss Lloyd?"

"I beg your pardon?"

His continued requests for me to repeat my questions irritated me beyondendurance. Of course it was a bluff to gain time, but he did it sopolitely, I couldn't rebuke him. 

"Are you engaged to Miss Lloyd?" I repeated. 

"No, I think not, " he said slowly. "She wants to break it off, and I, as a poor man, should not stand in the way of her making a brilliantmarriage. She has many opportunities for such, as her uncle often toldme, and I should be selfish indeed, now that she herself is poor, tohold her to her promise to me. "

The hypocrite! To lay on Florence the responsibility for breaking theengagement. Truly, she was well rid of him, and I hoped I could convinceher of the fact. 

"But she is not so poor, " I said. "Mr. Philip Crawford told me heintends to provide for her amply. And I'm sure that means a fair-sizedfortune, for the Crawfords are generous people. "

Gregory Hall's manner changed. 

"Did Philip Crawford say that?" he cried. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure, as he said it to me. "

"Then Florence and I may be happy yet, " he said; and as I looked himstraight in the eye, he had the grace to look ashamed of himself, and, with a rising color, he continued: "I hope you understand me, Mr. Burroughs. No man could ask a girl to marry him if he knew that meantcondemning her to comparative poverty. "

"No, of course not, " said I sarcastically. "Then I assume that, so faras you are concerned, your engagement with Miss Lloyd is not broken?"

"By no means. In fact, I could not desert her just now, when there isa--well, a sort of a cloud over her. "

"What do you mean?" I thundered. "There is no cloud over her. "

"Well, you know, the gold bag and the yellow rose leaves... "

"Be silent! The gold bag has been claimed by its owner. But you areresponsible for its presence in this room! You, who brought it fromthe midnight train, and left it here! You, who also left the late citynewspaper here! You, who also dropped two yellow petals from the rose inyour buttonhole. "

Gregory Hall seemed to turn to stone as he listened to my words. Hebecame white, then ashen gray. His hands clinched his chair-arms, andhis eyes grew glassy and fixed. 

I pushed home my advantage. "And therefore, traced by these undeniableevidences, I know that you are the slayer of Joseph Crawford. You killedyour friend, your benefactor, your employer, in order that he might notdisinherit the girl whose fortune you wish to acquire by marrying her!"

Though I had spoken in low tones, my own intense emotion made my wordsemphatic, and as I finished I was perhaps the more excited of the two. 

For Hall's composure had returned; his face resumed its natural color;his eyes their normal expression--that of cold indifference. 

"Mr. Burroughs, " he said quietly, "you must be insane. "

"That is no answer to my accusations, " I stormed. "I tell you of themost conclusive evidence against yourself, and instead of any attempt torefute it you mildly remark, `you are insane. ' It is you who are insane, Mr. Hall, if you think you can escape arrest and trial for the murder ofJoseph Crawford. "

"Oh, I think I can, " was his only answer, with that maddening littlesmile of his. 

"Then where were you on Tuesday night?"

"Excuse me?"

"Where were you on Tuesday night?"

"That I refuse to tell--as I have refused before, and shall alwaysrefuse. "

"Because you were here, and because you have too much wisdom to try toprove a false alibi. "

He looked at me half admiringly. "You are right in that, " he said. "Itis extremely foolish for any one to fake an alibi, and I certainly nevershould try to do so. "

"That's how I know you were here, " I replied triumphantly. 

"You do, do you? Well, Mr. Burroughs, I don't pretend to misunderstandyou--for Miss Lloyd has told me all about Mrs. Cunningham and her bagthat she left in the train. But I will say this if you think I came outon that midnight train, go and ask the conductor. He knows me, and asI often do come out on that train, he may remember that I was not on itthat night. And while you're about it, and since you consider that latenewspaper a clue, also ask him who was on the train that might have comehere afterward. "

If this was bluffing, it was a very clever bluff, and magnificentlycarried out. Probably his hope was that the conductor could not saydefinitely as to Hall's presence on the late train, and any other nameshe might mention would only complicate matters. 

But before I left I made one more attempt to get at this man's secret. 

"Mr. Hall, " I began, "I am not unfriendly. In fact, for Miss Lloyd'ssake as well as your own, I should like to remove every shadow ofsuspicion that hovers near either or both of you. "

"I know that, " he said quickly. "Don't think I can't see through your`friendliness' to Miss Lloyd! But be careful there, Mr. Burroughs. A mandoes not allow too many `friendly' glances toward the girl he is engagedto. "

So he had discovered my secret! Well, perhaps it was a good thing. Now Icould fight for Florence more openly if necessary. 

"You are right, Mr. Hall, " I went on. "I hold Miss Lloyd in very highesteem, and I assure you, as man to man, that so long as you and she arebetrothed, neither of you will have cause to look on me as other than adetective earnest in his work in your behalf. "

"Thank you, " said Hall, a little taken aback by my frankness. 

I went away soon after that, and without quizzing him any further, for, though I still suspected him, I realized that he would never sayanything to incriminate himself. 

The theory that the criminal was some one who came in on that midnighttrain was plausible indeed; but what a scope it offered!

Why, a total stranger to Sedgwick might have come and gone, entirelyunobserved, in the crowd. 

It was with little hope, therefore, that I arranged for an interviewwith the conductor of the train. 

He lived in Hunterton, a few stations from West Sedgwick, and, afterascertaining by telephone that he could see me the next day, I went tohis house. 

"Well, no, " he replied, after thinking over my query a bit; "I don'tthink Mr. Hall came out from New York that night. I'm 'most sure hedidn't, because he usually gives me his newspaper as he steps off thetrain, and I didn't get any `extra' that night. "

Of course this wasn't positive proof that Hall wasn't there, so I askedhim to tell me all the West Sedgwick people that he did remember asbeing on his train that night. 

He mentioned a dozen or more, but they were nearly all names unknown tome. 

"Do you remember the Cunninghams being on the train?" I asked. 

"Those Marathon Park people? Oh, yes. They were a gay party, --comingback from a theatre supper, I suppose. And that reminds me: PhilipCrawford sat right behind the Cunninghams. I forgot him before. Well, Iguess that's all the West Sedgwick people I can remember. "

I went away not much the wiser, but with a growing thought that buzzedin my brain. 

It was absurd, of course. But he had said Philip Crawford had sat rightbehind Mrs. Cunningham. How, then, could he help seeing the gold bag sheleft behind, when she got out at the station just before West Sedgwick?Indeed, who else could have seen it but the man in the seat directlybehind? Even if some one else had picked it up and carried it from thecar, Mr. Crawford must have seen it. 

Moreover, why hadn't he said he was on that train? Why conceal such asimple matter? Again, who had profited by the whole affair? And why hadGregory Hall said: "Ask the conductor who did get off that train?"

The rose petals were already explained by Florence. If, then, PhilipCrawford had, much later, come to his brother's with the gold bag andthe late newspaper, and had gone away and left them there, and had nevertold of all this, was there not a new direction in which to look?

But Philip Crawford! The dead man's own brother!

XIX. THE MIDNIGHT TRAIN

The enormity of suspecting Philip Crawford was so great, to my mind, that I went at once to the district attorney's office for consultationwith him. 

Mr. Goodrich listened to what I had to say, and then, when I waited forcomment, said quietly:

"Do you know, Mr. Burroughs, I have thought all along that PhilipCrawford was concealing something, but I didn't think, and don't thinknow, that he has any guilty secret of his own. I rather fancied hemight know something that, if told, would be detrimental to Miss Lloyd'scause. "

"It may be so, " I returned, "but I can't see how that would make himconceal the fact of his having been on that late train Tuesday night. Why, I discussed with him the possibility of Hall's coming out on it, and it would have been only natural to say he was on it, and didn't seeHall. "

"Unless he did see him, " remarked the district attorney. 

"Yes; there's that possibility. He may be shielding Hall for MissLloyd's sake--and--"

"Let's go to see him, " suggested Mr. Goodrich. "I believe in theimmediate following up of any idea we may have. "

It was about five in the afternoon, an hour when we were likely to findMr. Crawford at home, so we started off at once, and on reaching hishouse we were told that Mr. Randolph was with him in the library, butthat he would see us. So to the library we went, and found Mr. Crawfordand his lawyer hard at work on the papers of the Joseph Crawford estate. 

Perhaps it was imagination, but I thought I detected a look ofapprehension on Philip Crawford's face, as we entered, but he greeted usin his pleasant, simple way, and asked us to be seated. 

"To come right to the point, Mr. Crawford, " said the district attorney, "Mr. Burroughs and I are still searching for new light on the tragedy ofyour brother's death. And now Mr. Burroughs wants to put a few questionsto you, which may help him in his quest. "

Philip Crawford looked straight at me with his piercing eyes, and itseemed to me that he straightened himself, as for an expected blow. 

"Yes, Mr. Burroughs, " he said courteously. "What is it you want to ask?"

So plain and straightforward was his manner, that I decided to beequally direct. 

"Did you come out in that midnight train from New York last Tuesdaynight?" I began. 

"I did, " he replied, in even tones. 

"While on the train did you sit behind a lady who left a gold bag in theseat when she got out?"

"I did. "

"Did you pick up that bag and take it away with you?"

"I did. "

"Then, Mr. Crawford, as that is the gold bag that was found in yourbrother's office, I think you owe a more detailed explanation. "

To say that the lawyer and the district attorney, who heard thesequestions and answers, were astounded, is putting it too mildly. Theywere almost paralyzed with surprise and dismay. 

To hear these condemning assertions straight from the lips of the manthey incriminated was startling indeed. 

"You are right, " said Philip Crawford. "I do owe an explanation, and Ishall give it here and now. "

Although what he was going to say was doubtless a confession, Mr. Crawford's face showed an unmistakable expression of relief. He seemedlike a man who had borne a terrible secret around with him for the pastweek, and was now glad that he was about to impart it to some one else. 

He spoke very gravely, but with no faltering or hesitation. 

"This is a solemn confession, " he said, turning to his lawyer, "andis made to the district attorney, with yourself and Mr. Burroughs aswitnesses. "

Mr. Randolph bowed his head, in acknowledgment of this formal statement. 

"I am a criminal in the eyes of the law, " said Mr. Crawford, in animpersonal tone, which I knew he adopted to hide any emotion he mightfeel. "I have committed a dastardly crime. But I am not the murderer ofmy brother Joseph. "

We all felt our hearts lightened of a great load, for it was impossibleto disbelieve that calm statement and the clear gaze of those truthful, unafraid eyes. 

"The story I have to tell will sound as if I might have been mybrother's slayer, and this is why I assert the contrary at the outset. "

Pausing here, Mr. Crawford unlocked the drawer of a desk and took out asmall pistol, which he laid on the table. 

"That, " he said, "is my revolver, and it is the weapon with which mybrother was killed. "

I felt a choking sensation. Philip Crawford's manner was so farremoved from a sensational--or melodramatic effect, that it was doublyimpressive. I believed his statement that he did not kill his brother, but what could these further revelations mean? Hall? Florence? YoungPhilip? Whom would Philip Crawford thus shield for a whole week, andthen, when forced to do so, expose?

"You are making strange declarations, Mr. Crawford, " said LawyerRandolph, who was already white-faced and trembling. 

"I know it, " went on Philip Crawford, "and I trust you three men willhear my story through, and then take such measures as you see fit. 

"This pistol, as I said, is my property. Perhaps about a month ago, I took it over to my brother Joseph. He has always been careless ofdanger, and as he was in the habit of sitting in his office until verylate, with the long windows open on a dark veranda, I often told him heought to keep a weapon in his desk, by way of general protection. Then, after there had been a number of burglaries in West Sedgwick, I tookthis pistol to him, and begged him as a favor to me to let it stay inhis desk drawer as a precautionary measure. He laughed at my solicitude, but put it away in a drawer, the upper right-hand one, among hisbusiness papers. So much for the pistol. 

"Last Tuesday night I came out from New York on that midnight train thatreaches West Sedgwick station at one o'clock. In the train I did notnotice especially who sat near me, but when I reached our station andstarted to leave the car, I noticed a gold bag in the seat ahead. Ipicked it up, and, with a half-formed intention of handing it to theconductor, I left the train. But as I stepped off I did not see theconductor, and, though I looked about for him, he did not appear, andthe train moved on. I looked in the station, but the ticket agent wasnot visible, and as the hour was so late I slipped the bag into mypocket, intending to hand it over to the railroad authorities nextmorning. In fact, I thought little about it, for I was very muchperturbed over some financial considerations. I had been reading mynewspaper all the way out, from the city. It was an `extra, ' with theaccount of the steamship accident. "

Here Mr. Crawford looked at me, as much as to say, "There's yourprecious newspaper clue, " but his manner was indicative only of sadnessand grief; he had no cringing air as of a murderer. 

"However, I merely skimmed the news about the steamer, so interested wasI in they stock market reports. I needn't now tell the details, butI knew that Joseph had a `corner' in X. Y. Stock. I was myself a heavyinvestor in it, and I began to realize that I must see Joseph at once, and learn his intended actions for the next day. If he threw his stockon the market, there would be a drop of perhaps ten points and I shouldbe a large loser, if, indeed, I were not entirely wiped out. So I wentfrom the train straight to my brother's home. When I reached the gate, I saw there was a low light in his office, so I went round that way, instead of to the front door. As I neared the veranda, and went up thesteps, I drew from my overcoat pocket the newspaper, and, feeling thegold bag there also, I drew that out, thinking to show it to Joseph. As I look back now, I think it occurred to me that the bag might beFlorence's; I had seen her carry one like it. But, as you can readilyunderstand, I gave no coherent thought to the bag, as my mind wasfull of the business matter. The French window was open, and I steppedinside. "

Mr. Crawford paused here, but he gave way to no visible emotion. He waslike a man with an inexorable duty to perform, and no wish to stop untilit was finished. 

But truth was stamped unmistakably in every word and every look. 

"Only the desk light was turned on, but that gave light enough for me tosee my brother sitting dead in his chair. I satisfied myself that hewas really dead, and then, in a sort of daze, I looked about the room. Though I felt benumbed and half unconscious, physically, my thoughtsworked rapidly. On the desk before him I saw his will. "

An irrepressible exclamation from Mr. Randolph was the only sound thatgreeted this astonishing statement. 

"Yes, " and Mr. Crawford took a document from the same drawer whence hehad taken the pistol; "there is Joseph Crawford's will, leaving all hisproperty to Florence Lloyd. "

Mechanically, Mr. Randolph took the paper his client passed to him, and, after a glance at it, laid it on the table in front of him. 

"That was my crime, " said Philip Crawford solemnly, "and I thank Godthat I can confess it and make restitution. I must have been suddenlypossessed of a devil of greed, for the moment I saw that will, I knewthat if I took it away the property would be mine, and I would then runno danger of being ruined by my stock speculations. I had a dim feelingthat I should eventually give all, or a large part, of the fortune toFlorence, but at the moment I was obsessed by evil, and I--I stole mybrother's will. "

It was an honest confession of an awful crime. But under the spellof that strong, low voice, and the upright bearing of that impressivefigure, we could not, at the moment, condemn; we could only listen andwait. 

"Then, " the speaker proceeded, "I was seized with the terrific, unreasoning fear that I dare say always besets a malefactor. I had butone thought, to get away, and leave the murder to be discovered by someone else. In a sort of subconscious effort at caution, I took my pistol, lest it prove incriminating evidence against me, but in my mad frenzy offear, I gave no thought to the gold bag or the newspaper. I came home, secreted the will and the revolver, and ever since I have had no doubtsas to the existence of a hell. A thousand times I have been on the pointof making this confession, and even had it not been brought about as ithas, I must have given way soon. No mortal could stand out long underthe pressure of remorse and regret that has been on me this past week. Now, gentlemen, I have told you all. The action you may take in thismatter must be of your own choosing. But, except for the stigma of pastsin, I stand again before the world, with no unconfessed crime upon myconscience. I stole the will; I have restored it. But my hands are cleanof the blood of my brother, and I am now free to add my efforts to yoursto find the criminal and avenge the crime. "

He had not raised his voice above those low, even tones in which he hadstarted his recital; he had made no bid for leniency of judgment; but, to a man, his three hearers rose and held out friendly hands to him ashe finished his story. 

"Thank you, " he said simply, as he accepted this mute token of ourbelief in his word. "I am gratified at your kindly attitude, but Irealize, none the less, what this will all mean for me. Not only myselfbut my innocent family must share my disgrace. However, that is part ofthe wrongdoer's punishment--that results fall not only on his own head, but on the heads and hearts of his loved ones. "

"Mr. Goodrich, " said Mr. Randolph, "I don't know how you look upon thismatter from your official viewpoint, but unless you deem it necessary, Ishould think that this confidence of Mr. Crawford's need never be givento the public. May we not simply state that the missing will has beenfound, without any further disclosures?"

"I am not asking for any such consideration, " said Philip Crawford. "If you decide upon such a course, it will be entirely of your ownvolition. "

The district attorney hesitated. 

"Speaking personally, " he said, at last, "I may say that I placefull credence in Mr. Crawford's story. I am entirely convinced of theabsolute truth of all his statements. But, speaking officially, I maysay that in a court of justice witnesses would be required, who couldcorroborate his words. "

"But such witnesses are manifestly impossible to procure, " said Mr. Randolph. 

"Certainly they are, " I agreed, "and I should like to make thissuggestion: Believing, as we do, in Mr. Crawford's story, it becomesimportant testimony in the case. Now, if it were made public, it wouldlose its importance, for it would set ignorant tongues wagging, andgive rise to absurd and untrue theories, and result in blocking ourbest-meant efforts. So I propose that we keep the matter to ourselvesfor a time--say a week or a fortnight--keeping Mr. Crawford undersurveillance, if need be. Then we can work on the case, with the benefitof the suggestions offered by Mr. Crawford's revelations; and I, forone, think such benefit of immense importance. "

"That will do, " said Mr. Goodrich, whose troubled face had cleared at mysuggestion. "You are quite right, Mr. Burroughs. And the `surveillance'will be a mere empty formality. For a man who has confessed as Mr. Crawford has done, is not going to run away from the consequences of hisconfession. "

"I am not, " said Mr. Crawford. "And I am grateful for this respite fromunpleasant publicity. I will take my punishment when it comes, but Ifeel with Mr. Burroughs that more progress can be made if what I havetold you is not at once generally known. "

"Where now does suspicion point?"

It was Mr. Randolph who spoke. His legal mind had already gone aheadof the present occasion, and was applying the new facts to the oldtheories. 

"To Gregory Hall, " said the district attorney. 

"Wait, " said I. "If Mr. Crawford left the bag and the newspaper in theoffice, we have no evidence whatever that Mr. Hall came out on that latetrain. "

"Nor did he need to, " said Mr. Goodrich, who was thinking rapidly. "Hemight have come on an earlier train, or, for that matter, not by trainat all. He may have come out from town in a motor car. "

This was possible; but it did not seem to me probable. A motor car wasa conspicuous way for a man to come out from New York and return, if hewished to keep his visit secret. Still, he could have left the car atsome distance from the house, and walked the rest of the way. 

"Did Mr. Hall know that a revolver was kept in Mr. Crawford's deskdrawer?" I asked. 

"He did, " replied Philip Crawford. "He was present when I took my pistolover to Joseph. "

"Then, " said Mr. Goodrich, "the case looks to me very serious againstMr. Hall. We have proved his motive, his opportunity, and hismethod, or, rather, means, of committing the crime. Add to thishis unwillingness to tell where he was on Tuesday night, and I seesufficient justification for issuing a warrant for his arrest. "

"I don't know, " said Philip Crawford, "whether such immediate measuresare advisable. I don't want to influence you, Mr. Goodrich, but supposewe see Mr. Hall, and question him a little. Then, if it seems to youbest, arrest him. "

"That is a good suggestion, Mr. Crawford, " said the district attorney. "We can have a sort of court of inquiry by ourselves, and perhaps Mr. Hall will, by his own words, justify or relieve our suspicions. "

I went away from Mr. Crawford's house, and went straight to FlorenceLloyd's. I did this almost involuntarily. Perhaps if I had stopped tothink, I might have realized that it did not devolve upon me to tellher of Philip Crawford's confession. But I wanted to tell her myself, because I hoped that from her manner of hearing the story I could learnsomething. I still believed that in trying to shield Hall, she had notyet been entirely frank with me, and at any rate, I wanted to be the oneto tell her of the important recent discovery. 

When I arrived, I found Mr. Porter in the library talking with Florence. At first I hesitated about telling my story before him, and thenI remembered that he was one of the best of Florence's friends andadvisers, and moreover a man of sound judgment and great perspicacity. Needless to say, they were both amazed and almost stunned by therecital, and it was some time before they could take in the situation inall its bearings. We had a long, grave conversation, for the three ofus were not influenced so much by the sensationalness of this newdevelopment, as by the question of whither it led. Of course thesecret was as safe with these two, as with those of us who had heard itdirectly from Philip Crawford's lips. 

"I understand Philip Crawford's action, " said Mr. Porter, veryseriously. "In the first place he was not quite himself, owing to thesudden shock of seeing his brother dead before his eyes. Also the sightof his own pistol, with which the deed had evidently been committed, unnerved him. It was an almost unconscious nervous action which made himtake the pistol, and it was a sort of subconscious mental working thatresulted in his abstracting the will. Had he been in full possessionof his brain faculty, he could not have done either. He did wrong, ofcourse, but he has made full restitution, and his wrong-doing should notonly be forgiven but forgotten. "

I looked at Mr. Porter in unfeigned admiration. Truly he had expressednoble sentiments, and his must be a broadly noble nature that could showsuch a spirit toward his fellow man. 

Florence, too, gave him an appreciative glance, but her mind seemed tobe working on the possibilities of the new evidence. 

"Then it would seem, " she said slowly, "that as I, myself, was inUncle's office at about eleven o'clock, and as Uncle Philip was there alittle after one o'clock, whoever killed Uncle Joseph came and went awaybetween those hours. "

"Yes, " I said, and I knew that her thoughts had flown to Gregory Hall. "But I think there are no trains in and out again of West Sedgwickbetween those hours. "

"He need not have come in a train, " said Florence slowly, as if simplyvoicing her thoughts. 

"Don't attempt to solve the mystery, Florence, " said Mr. Porter inhis decided way. "Leave that for those who make it their business. Mr. Burroughs, I am sure, will do all he can, and it is not for youto trouble your already sad heart with these anxieties. Give it up, mygirl, for it means only useless exertion on your part. "

"And on my part too, I fear, Mr. Porter, " I said. "Without wishing toshirk my duty, I can't help feeling I'm up against a problem that to meis insoluble. It is my desire, since the case is baffling, to call intalent of a higher order. Fleming Stone, for instance. "

Mr. Porter gave me a sudden glance, and it was a glance I could notunderstand. For an instant it seemed to me that he showed fear, andthis thought was instantly followed by the impression that he feared forFlorence. And then I chid myself for my foolish heart that made everythought that entered my brain lead to Florence Lloyd. With my mind inthis commotion I scarcely heard Mr. Porter's words. 

"No, no, " he was saying, "we need no other or cleverer detective thanyou, Mr. Burroughs. If, as Florence says, the murderer was clever enoughto come between those two hours, and go away again, leaving no sign, heis probably clever enough so to conceal his coming and going that he maynot be traced. "

"But, Mr. Porter, " I observed, "they say murder will out. "

Again that strange look came into his eyes. Surely it was an expressionof fear. But he only said, "Then you're the man to bring that resultabout, Mr. Burroughs. I have great confidence in your powers as adetective. "

He took his leave, and I was not sorry, for I wanted an opportunity tosee Florence alone. 

"I am so sorry, " she said, and for the first time I saw tears in herdear, beautiful eyes, "to hear that about Uncle Philip. But Mr. Porterwas right, he was not himself, or he never could have done it. "

"It was an awful thing for him to find his brother as he did, and goaway and leave him so. "

"Awful, indeed! But the Crawfords have always been strange in theirways. I have never seen one of them show emotion or sentiment upon anyoccasion. "

"Now you are again an heiress, " I said, suddenly realizing the fact. 

"Yes, " she said, but her tone indicated that her fortune brought in itstrain many perplexing troubles and many grave questions. 

"Forgive me, " I began, "if I am unwarrantably intrusive, but I mustsay this. Affairs are so changed now, that new dangers and troubles mayarise for you. If I can help you in any way, will you let me do so? Willyou confide in me and trust me, and will you remember that in so doingyou are not putting yourself under the slightest obligation?"

She looked at me very earnestly for a moment, and then without replyingdirectly to my questions, she said in a low tone, "You are the very bestfriend I have ever had. "

"Florence!" I cried; but even as she had spoken, she had gone softly outof the room, and with a quiet joy in my heart, I went away. 

That afternoon I was summoned to Mr. Philip Crawford's house to bepresent at the informal court of inquiry which was to interrogateGregory Hall. 

Hall was summoned by telephone, and not long after he arrived. He wascool and collected, as usual, and I wondered if even his arrest woulddisturb his calm. 

"We are pursuing the investigation of Mr. Joseph Crawford's death, Mr. Hall, " the district attorney began, "and we wish, in the course of ourinquiries, to ask some questions of you. "

"Certainly, sir, " said Gregory Hall, with an air of polite indifference. 

"And I may as well tell you at the outset, " went on Mr. Goodrich, alittle irritated at the young man's attitude, "that you, Mr. Hall, areunder suspicion. "

"Yes?" said Hall interrogatively. "But I was not here that night. "

"That's just the point, sir. You say you were not here, but you refuseto say where you were. Now, wherever you may have been that night, afrank admission of it will do you less harm than this incriminatingconcealment of the truth. "

"In that case, " said Hall easily, "I suppose I may as well tell you. But first, since you practically accuse me, may I ask if any newdevelopments have been brought to light?"

"One has, " said Mr. Goodrich. "The missing will has been found. "

"What?" cried Hall, unable to conceal his satisfaction at thisinformation. 

"Yes, " said Mr. Goodrich coldly, disgusted at the plainly apparentmercenary spirit of the man; "yes, the will of Mr. Joseph Crawford, which bequeaths the bulk of his estate to Miss Lloyd, is safe in Mr. Randolph's possession. But that fact in no way affects your connectionwith the case, or our desire to learn where you were on Tuesday night. "

"Pardon me, Mr. Goodrich; I didn't hear all that you said. "

Bluffing again, thought I; and, truly, it seemed to me rather a cleverway to gain time for consideration, and yet let his answers appearspontaneous. 

The district attorney repeated his question, and now Gregory Hallanswered deliberately, "I still refuse to tell you where I was. It in no way affects the case;it is a private matter of my own. I was in New York City from the timeI left West Sedgwick at six o'clock on Monday, until I returned the nextmorning. Further than that I will give no account of my doings. "

"Then we must assume you were engaged in some occupation of which youare ashamed to tell. "

Hall shrugged his shoulders. "You may assume what you choose, " he said. "I was not here, I had no hand in Mr. Crawford's death, and knew nothingof it until my return next day. "

"You knew Mr. Crawford kept a revolver in his desk. You must know it isnot there now. "

Hall looked troubled. 

"I know nothing about that revolver, " he said. "I saw it the day Mr. Philip Crawford brought it there, but I have never seen it since. "

This sounded honest enough, but if he were the criminal, he would, ofcourse, make these same avowals. 

"Well, Mr. Hall, " said the district attorney, with an air of finality, "we suspect you. We hold that you had motive, opportunity, and means forthis crime. Therefore, unless you can prove an alibi for Tuesday night, and bring witnesses to grove where you, were, we must arrest you, onsuspicion, for the murder of Joseph Crawford. "

Gregory Hall deliberated silently for a few moments, then he said:

"I am innocent. But I persist in my refusal to allow intrusion on myprivate and personal affairs. Arrest me if you will, but you will yetlearn your mistake. "

I can never explain it, even to myself, but something in the man's toneand manner convinced me, even against my own will, that he spoke thetruth. 

XX. FLEMING STONE

The news of Gregory Hall's arrest flew through the town like wildfire. 

That evening I went to call on Florence Lloyd, though I had little hopethat she would see me. 

To my surprise, however, she welcomed me almost eagerly, and, though Iknew she wanted to see me only for what legal help I might give her, Iwas glad even of this. 

And yet her manner was far from impersonal. Indeed, she showed a slightembarrassment in my presence, which, if I had dared, I should have beenglad to think meant a growing interest in our friendship. 

"You have heard all?" I asked, knowing from her manner that she had. 

"Yes, " she replied; "Mr. Hall was here for dinner, and then--then hewent away to--"

"To prison, " I finished quietly. "Florence, I cannot think he is themurderer of your uncle. "

If she noticed this, my first use of her Christian name, she offered noremonstrance, and I went on, "To be sure, they have proved that he had motive, means, opportunity, and all that, but it is only indefinite evidence. If he would but tellwhere he was on Tuesday night, he could so easily free himself. Why willhe not tell?"

"I don't know, " she said, looking thoughtful. "But I cannot think he washere, either. When he said good-by to me to-night, he did not seem atall apprehensive. He only said he was arrested wrongfully, and thathe would soon be set free again. You know his way of taking everythingcasually. "

"Yes, I do. And now that you are your uncle's heiress, I suppose he nolonger wishes to break the engagement between you and him. "

I said this bitterly, for I loathed the nature that could thus turnabout in accordance with the wheel of fortune. 

To my surprise, she too spoke bitterly. 

"Yes, " she said; "he insists now that we are engaged, and that he neverreally wanted to break it. He has shown me positively that it is mymoney that attracts him, and if it were not that I don't want to seem todesert him now, when he is in trouble--"

She paused, and my heart beat rapidly. Could it be that at last she sawGregory Hall as he really was, and that his mercenary spirit had killedher love for him? At least, she had intimated this, and, forcing myselfto be content with that for the present, I said:

"Would you, then, if you could, get him out of this trouble?"

"Gladly. I do not think he killed Uncle Joseph, but I'm sure I do notknow who did. Do you?"

"I haven't the least idea, " I answered honestly, for there, in FlorenceLloyd's presence, gazing into the depths of her clear eyes, my last, faint suspicion of her wrong-doing faded away. "And it is this totallack of suspicion that makes the case so simple, and therefore sodifficult. A more complicated case offers some points on which to builda theory. I do not blame Mr. Goodrich for suspecting Mr. Hall, for thereseems to be no one else to suspect. "

Just then Mr. Lemuel Porter dropped in for an evening call. Of course, we talked over the events of the day, and Mr. Porter was almost vehementin his denunciation of the sudden move of the district attorney. 

"It's absurd, " he said, "utterly absurd. Gregory Hall never did thething. I've known Hall for years, and he isn't that sort of a man. Ibelieve Philip Crawford's story, of course, but the murderer, who cameinto the office after Florence's visit to her uncle, and before Philiparrived, was some stranger from out of town--some man whom none of usknow; who had some grievance against Joseph, and who deliberately cameand went during that midnight hour. "

I agreed with Mr. Porter. I had thought all along it was some oneunknown to the Sedgwick people, but some one well known to JosephCrawford. For, had it been an ordinary burglar, the victim would atleast have raised a protecting hand. 

"Of course Hall will be set free at once, " continued Mr. Porter, "but toarrest him was a foolish thing to do. "

"Still, he ought to prove his alibi, " I said. 

"Very well, then; make him prove it. Give him the third degree, ifnecessary, and find out where he was on Tuesday night. "

"I doubt if they could get it out of him, " I observed, "if he continuesdetermined not to tell. "

"Then he deserves his fate, " said Mr. Porter, a little petulantly. "He can free himself by a word. If he refuses to do so it's his ownbusiness. "

"But I'd like to help him, " said Florence, almost timidly. "Is there noway I can do so, Mr. Burroughs?"

"Indeed there is, " I said. "You are a rich woman now; use some of yourwealth to employ the services of Fleming Stone, and I can assure you thetruth will be discovered. "

"Indeed I will, " said Florence. "Please send for him at once. "

"Nonsense!" said Mr. Porter. "It isn't necessary at all. Mr. Burroughshere, and young Parmalee, are all the detectives we need. Get Hall tofree himself, as he can easily do, and then set to work in earnest torun down the real villain. "

"No, Mr. Porter, " said Florence, with firmness; "Gregory will not tellhis secret, whatever it is. I know his stubborn nature. He'll stay inprison until he's freed, as he is sure he will be, but he won't tellwhat he has determined not to divulge. No, I am glad I can do somethingdefinite at last toward avenging Uncle Joseph's death. Please send forMr. Stone, Mr. Burroughs, and I will gladly pay his fees and expenses. "Mr. Porter expostulated further, but to no avail. Florence insisted onsending for the great detective. 

So I sent for him. 

He came two days later, and in the interval nothing further had beenlearned from Gregory Hall. The man was an enigma to me. He was calmand impassive as ever. Courteous, though never cordial, and apparentlywithout the least apprehension of ever being convicted for the crimewhich had caused his arrest. 

Indeed, he acted just as an innocent man would act; innocent of themurder, that is, but resolved to conceal his whereabouts of Tuesdaynight, whatever that resolve might imply. 

To me, it did not imply crime. Something he wished to conceal, certainly; but I could not think a criminal would act so. A criminal isusually ready with an alibi, whether it can be proved or not. 

When Fleming Stone arrived I met him at the station and took him at onceto the inn, where I had engaged rooms for him. 

We first had a long conversation alone, in which I told him, everythingI knew concerning the murder. 

"When did it happen?" he asked, for, though he had read some of thenewspaper accounts, the date had escaped him. 

I told him, and added, "Why, I was called here just after I left you atthe Metropolis Hotel that morning. Don't you remember, you deduced a lotof information from a pair of shoes which were waiting to be cleaned?"

"Yes, I remember, " said Stone, smiling a little at the recollection. 

"And I tried to make similar deductions from the gold bag and thenewspaper, but I couldn't do it. I bungled matters every time. Mydeductions are mostly from the witnesses' looks or tones when givingevidence. "

"On the stand?"

"Not necessarily on the stand. I've learned much from talking to theprincipals informally. "

"And where do your suspicions point?"

"Nowhere. I've suspected Florence Lloyd and Gregory Hall, in turn, andin collusion; but now I suspect neither of them. "

"Why not Hall?"

"His manner is too frank and unconcerned. "

"A good bluff for a criminal to use. "

"Then he won't tell where he was that night. "

"If he is the murderer, he can't tell. A false alibi is so easilyriddled. It's rather clever to keep doggedly silent; but what does hesay is his reason?"

"He won't give any reason. He has determined to keep up that calm, indifferent pose, and though it is aggravating, I must admit it serveshis purpose well. "

"How did they find him the morning after the murder?"

"Let me see; I believe the coroner said he telephoned first to Hall'sclub. But the steward said Hall didn't stay there, as there was novacant room, and that he had stayed all night at a hotel. "

"What hotel?"

"I don't know. The coroner asked the steward, but he didn't know. "

"Didn't he find out from Hall, afterward?"

"I don't know, Stone; perhaps the coroner asked him, but if he did, Idoubt if Hall told. It didn't seem to me important. "

"Burroughs, my son, you should have learned every detail of Hall'sdoings that night. "

"But if he were not in West Sedgwick, what difference could it possiblymake where he was?"

"One never knows what difference anything will make until the differenceis made. That's oracular, but it means more than it sounds. However, goon. "

I went on, and I even told him what Florence had told me concerning thepossibility of Hall's interest in another woman. 

"At last we are getting to it, " said Stone; "why in the name of all gooddetectives, didn't you hunt up that other woman?"

"But she is perhaps only a figment of Miss Lloyd's brain. "

"Figments of the brains of engaged young ladies are apt to have a solidfoundation of flesh and blood. I think much could be learned concerningMr. Hall's straying fancy. But tell me again about his attitude towardMiss Lloyd, in the successive developments of the will question. "

Fleming Stone was deeply interested as I rehearsed how, when Florencewas supposed to be penniless, he wished to break the engagement. WhenPhilip Crawford offered to provide for her, Mr. Hall was uncertain;but when the will was found, and Florence was known to inherit all heruncle's property, then Gregory Hall not only held her to the engagement, but said he had never wished to break it. 

"H'm, " said Stone. "Pretty clear that the young man is afortune-hunter. "

"He is, " I agreed. "I felt sure of that from the first. "

"And he is now under arrest, calmly waiting for some one to prove hisinnocence, so he can marry the heiress. "

"That's about the size of it, " I said. "But I don't think Florence isquite as much in love with him as she was. She seems to have realizedhis mercenary spirit. "

Perhaps an undue interest in my voice or manner disclosed to this astuteman the state of my own affections, for he gave me a quizzical glance, and said, "O-ho! sits the wind in that quarter?"

"Yes, " I said, determined to be frank with him. "It does. I want you, tofree Gregory Hall, if he's innocent. Then if, for any reason, MissLloyd sees fit to dismiss him, I shall most certainly try to win heraffections. As I came to this determination when she was supposed to bepenniless, I can scarcely be accused of fortune-hunting myself. "

"Indeed, you can't, old chap. You're not that sort. Well, let's go tosee your district attorney and his precious prisoner, and see what's tobe done. "

We went to the district attorney's office, and, later, accompanied byhim and by Mr. Randolph, we visited Gregory Hall. 

As I had expected, Mr. Hall wore the same unperturbed manner he alwaysshowed, and when Fleming Stone was introduced, Hall greeted him coldly, with absolutely no show of interest in the man or his work. 

Fleming Stone's own kindly face took on a slight expression of hauteur, as he noticed his reception, but he said, pleasantly enough, "I am here in an effort to aid in establishing your innocence, Mr. Hall. "

"I beg your pardon?" said Hall listlessly. 

I wondered whether this asking to have a remark repeated was merely afoolish habit of Hall's, or whether, as I had heretofore guessed, it wasa ruse to gain time. 

Fleming Stone looked at him a little more sharply as he repeated hisremark in clear, even tones. 

"Thank you, " said Hall, pleasantly enough. "I shall be glad to be freefrom this unjust suspicion. "

"And as a bit of friendly advice, " went on Stone, "I strongly urge thatyou, reveal to us, confidentially, where you were on Tuesday night. "

Hall looked the speaker straight in the eye. 

"That, " he said, "I must still refuse to do. "

Fleming Stone rose and walked toward the window. 

"I think, " he said, "the proof of your innocence may depend upon thispoint. "

Gregory Hall turned his head, and followed Stone with his eyes. 

"What did you say, Mr. Stone?" he asked quietly. 

The detective returned to his seat. 

"I said, " he replied, "that the proof of your innocence might depend onyour telling this secret of yours. But I begin to think now you will befreed from suspicion whether you tell it or not. "

Instead of looking glad at this assurance, Gregory Hall gave a start, and an expression of fear came into his eyes. 

"What do you mean?" he said, "Have you any letters in your pocket, Mr. Hall?" went on Fleming Stonein a suave voice. 

"Yes; several. Why?"

"I do not ask to read them. Merely show me the lot. "

With what seemed to be an unwilling but enforced movement, Mr. Hall drewfour or five letters from his breast pocket and handed them to FlemingStone. 

"They've all been looked over, Mr. Stone, " said the district attorney;"and they have no bearing on the matter of the crime. "

"Oh, I don't want to read them, " said the detective. 

He ran over the lot carelessly, not taking the sheets from theenvelopes, and returned them to their owner. 

Gregory Hall looked at him as if fascinated. What revelation was thisman about to make?

"Mr. Hall, " Fleming Stone began, "I've no intention of forcing yoursecret from you. But I shall ask you some questions, and you may do asyou like about answering them. First, you refuse to tell where you wereduring the night last Tuesday. I take it, you mean you refuse to tellhow or where you spent the evening. Now, will you tell us where youlodged that night?"

"I fail to see any reason for telling you, " answered Hall, after amoment's thought. "I have said I was in New York City, that is enough. "

"The reason you may as well tell us, " went on Mr. Stone, "is because itis a very simple matter for us to find out. You doubtless were at somehotel, and you went there because you could not get a room at yourclub. In fact, this was stated when the coroner telephoned for you, themorning after the murder. I mean, it was stated that the club bed-roomswere all occupied. I assume, therefore, that you lodged at some hotel, and, as a canvass of the city hotels would be a simple matter, you mayas well save us that trouble. "

"Oh, very well, " said Gregory Hall sullenly; "then I did spend the nightat a hotel. It was the Metropolis Hotel, and you will find my name dulyon the register. "

"I have no doubt of it, " said Stone pleasantly. "Now that you have toldus this, have you any objection to telling us at what time you returnedto the hotel, after your evening's occupation, whatever it may havebeen?"

"Eh?" said Hall abstractedly. He turned his head as he spoke, andFleming Stone threw me a quizzical smile which I didn't in the leastunderstand. 

"You may as well tell us, " said Stone, after he had repeated hisquestion, "for if you withhold it, the night clerk can give us thisinformation. "

"Well, " said Hall, who now looked distinctly sulky, "I don't rememberexactly, but I think I turned in somewhere between twelve and oneo'clock. "

"And as it was a late hour, you slept rather late next morning, "suggested Stone. 

"Oh, I don't know. I was at Mr. Crawford's New York office by half-pastten. "

"A strange coincidence, Burroughs, " said Fleming Stone, turning to me. 

"Eh? Beg pardon?" said Hall, turning his head also. 

"Mr. Hall, " said Stone, suddenly facing him again, "are you deaf? Why doyou ask to have remarks repeated?"

Hall looked slightly apologetic. "I am a little deaf, " he said; "butonly in one ear. And only at times--or, rather, it's worse at times. IfI have a cold, for instance. "

"Or in damp weather?" said Stone. "Mr. Hall, I have questioned youenough. I will now tell these gentlemen, since you refuse to do so, where you were on the night of Mr. Crawford's murder. You were not inWest Sedgwick, or near it. You are absolutely innocent of the crime orany part in it. "

Gregory Hall straightened up perceptibly, like a man exonerated from allblame. But he quailed again, as Fleming Stone, looking straight at him, continued: "You left West Sedgwick at six that evening, as you havesaid. You registered at the Metropolis Hotel, after learning that youcould not get a room at your club. And then--you went over to Brooklynto meet, or to call on, a young woman living in that borough. You tookher back to New York to the theatre or some such entertainment, andafterward escorted her back to her home. The young woman wore a streetcostume, by which I mean a cloth gown without a train. You did not havea cab, but, after leaving the car, you walked for a rather long distancein Brooklyn. It was raining, and you were both under one umbrella. Am Icorrect, so far?"

At last Gregory Hall's calm was disturbed. He looked at Fleming Stoneas at a supernatural being. And small wonder. For the truth of Stone'sstatements was evident from Hall's amazement at them. 

"You--you saw us!" he gasped. 

"No, I didn't see you; it is merely a matter of observation, deduction, and memory. You recollect the muddy shoes?" he added, turning to me. 

Did I recollect! Well, rather! And it certainly was a coincidence thatwe had chanced to examine those shoes that morning at the hotel. 

As for Mr. Randolph and the district attorney, they were quite as muchsurprised as Hall. 

"Can you prove this astonishing story, Mr. Stone?" asked Mr. Goodrich, with an incredulous look. 

"Oh, yes, in lots of ways, " returned Stone. "For one thing, Mr. Hall hasin his pocket now a letter from the young lady. The whole matter isof no great importance except as it proves Mr. Hall was not in WestSedgwick that night, and so is not the murderer. "

"But why conceal so simple a matter? Why refuse to tell of the episode?"asked Mr. Randolph. 

"Because, " and now Fleming Stone looked at Hall with accusation in hisglance--"because Mr. Hall is very anxious that his fiancee shall notknow of his attentions to the young lady in Brooklyn. "

"O-ho!" said Mr. Goodrich, with sudden enlightenment. "I see it all now. Is it the truth, Mr. Hall? Did you go to Brooklyn and back that night, as Mr. Stone has described?"

Gregory Hall fidgeted in an embarrassed way. But, unable to escape thepiercing gaze of Stone's eyes, he admitted grudgingly that the detectivehad told the truth, adding, "But it's wizardry, that's what it is! Howcould he know?"

"I had reason for suspicion, " said Stone; "and when I found you weredeaf in your right ear, and that you had in your pocket a letteraddressed in a feminine hand, and postmarked `Brooklyn, ' I was sure. "

"It's all true, " said Hall slowly. "You have the facts all right. But, unless you have had me shadowed, will you tell me how you knew it all?"

And then Fleming Stone told of his observations and deductions when wenoticed the muddied shoes at the Metropolis Hotel that morning. 

"But, " he said, as he concluded, "when I hastily adjudged the younglady to be deaf in the left ear, I see now I was mistaken. As soon asI realized Mr. Hall himself is deaf in the right ear, especially so indamp or wet weather, I saw that it fitted the case as well as if thelady had been deaf in her left ear. Then a note in his pocket from alady in Brooklyn made me quite sure I was right. "

"But, Mr. Stone, " said Lawyer Randolph, "it is very astonishing that youshould make those deductions from those shoes, and then come out hereand meet the owner of the shoes. "

"It seems more remarkable than it really is, Mr. Randolph, " was theresponse; "for I am continually observing whatever comes to my notice. Hundreds of my deductions are never verified, or even thought of again;so it is not so strange that now and then one should prove of use in mywork. "

"Well, " said the district attorney, "it seems wonderful to me. But nowthat Mr. Hall has proved his alibi, or, rather, Mr. Stone has proved itfor him, we must begin anew our search for the real criminal. "

"One moment, " said Gregory Hall. "As you know, gentlemen, I endeavoredto keep this little matter of my going to Brooklyn a secret. As it hasno possible bearing on the case of Mr. Crawford, may I ask of you torespect my desire that you say nothing about it?"

"For my part, " said the district attorney, "I am quite willing togrant Mr. Hall's request. I have put him to unnecessary trouble andembarrassment by having him arrested, and I shall be glad to do him thisfavor that he asks, by way of amends. "

But Mr. Randolph seemed reluctant to make the required promise, andFleming Stone looked at Hall, and said nothing. 

Then I spoke out, and, perhaps with scant courtesy, I said:

"I, for one, refuse to keep this revelation a secret. It was discoveredby the detective engaged by Miss Lloyd. Therefore, I think Miss Lloyd isentitled to the knowledge we have thus gained. "

Mr. Randolph looked at me with approval. He was a good friend ofFlorence Lloyd, and he was of no mind to hide from her something whichit might be better for her to know. 

Gregory Hall set his lips together in a way which argued no pleasantfeelings toward me, but he said nothing then. He was forthwith releasedfrom custody, and the rest of us separated; having arranged to meet thatevening at Miss Lloyd's home to discuss matters. 

XXI. THE DISCLOSURE

Except the half-hour required for a hasty dinner, Fleming Stone devotedthe intervening time to looking over the reports of the coroner'sinquest, and in asking me questions about all the people who wereconnected with the affair. 

"Burroughs, " he said at last, "every one who is interested in JosephCrawford's death has suspected Gregory Hall, except one person. Noteverybody said they suspected him, but they did, all the same. Even MissLloyd wasn't sure that Hall wasn't the criminal. Now, there's justone person who declares that Hall did not do it, and that he is notimplicated. Why should this person feel so sure of Hall's innocence?And, furthermore, my boy, here are a few more important questions. Inwhich drawer of the desk was the revolver kept?"

"The upper right-hand drawer, " I replied. 

"I mean, what else was in that drawer?"

"Oh, important, valuable memoranda of Mr. Crawford's stocks and bonds. "

"Do you mean stock certificates and actual bonds?"

"No; merely lists and certain data referring to them. The certificatesthemselves were in the bank. "

"And the will--where had that been kept?"

"In a drawer on the other side of the desk. I know all these things, because with the lawyer and Mr. Philip Crawford, I have been through allthe papers of the estate. "

"Well, then, Burroughs, let us build up the scene. Mr. Joseph Crawford, after returning from his lawyer's that night, goes to his office. Naturally, he takes out his will, that he thinks of changing, and--we'llsay--it is lying on his desk when Mr. Lemuel Porter calls. He talks ofother matters, and the will still lies there unheeded. It is there whenMiss Lloyd comes down later. She has said so. It remains there untilmuch later--when Philip Crawford comes, and, after discovering that hisbrother is dead, sees the will still on the desk and takes it away withhim, and also sees the pistol on the desk, and takes that, too. Now, granting that the murderer came between the time Miss Lloyd left theoffice and the time Philip Crawford came there, then it was while themurderer was present that the drawer which held the pistol was opened, the pistol taken out, and the murder committed, Since Mr. JosephCrawford showed no sign of fear of violence, the murderer must havebeen, not a burglar or an unwelcome intruder, but a friend, or anacquaintance, at least. His visit must have been the reason for openingthat drawer, and that not to get the pistol, but to look at or discussthe papers contained in that drawer. The pistol, thus disclosed, wastemptingly near the hand of the visitor, and, for some reasonconnected with the papers in that drawer, the pistol was used by thevisitor--suddenly, unpremeditatedly, but with deadly intent at themoment. "

"But who--" I began. 

"Hush, " he said, "I see it all now--or almost all. Let us go to PhilipCrawford's at once--before it is time to go to Miss Lloyd's. "

We did so, and Fleming Stone, in a short business talk with Mr. Crawford, learned all that he wanted to know. Then we three went over toFlorence Lloyd's home. 

Awaiting us were several people. The district attorney, of course, andLawyer Randolph. Also Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Porter, who had been askedto be present. Gregory Hall was there, too, and from his crestfallenexpression, I couldn't help thinking that he had had an unsatisfactoryinterview with Florence. 

As we all sat round the library, Fleming Stone was the principalspeaker. 

He said: "I have come here at Miss Lloyd's request, to discover, ifpossible, the murderer of her uncle, Mr. Joseph Crawford. I have learnedthe identity of the assassin, and, if you all wish me to, I will nowdivulge it. "

"We do wish you to, Mr. Stone, " said Mr. Goodrich, and his voicetrembled a little, for he knew not where the blow might fall. But afterFleming Stone's wonderful detective work in the case of Gregory Hall, the district attorney felt full confidence in his powers. 

Sitting quietly by the library table, with the eyes of all the companyupon him, Fleming Stone said, in effect, to them just what he had saidto me. He told of the revolver in the drawer with the financial papers. He told how the midnight visitor must have been some friend or neighbor, whose coming would in no way startle or alarm Mr. Crawford, and whoseinterest in the question of stocks was desperate. 

And then Fleming Stone turned suddenly to Lemuel Porter, and said:"Shall I go on, Mr. Porter, or will you confess here and now?"

It was as if a thunderbolt had fallen. Hitherto unsuspected, the guiltof Lemuel Porter was now apparent beyond all doubt. White-faced andshaking, his burning eyes glared at Fleming Stone. 

"What are you?" he whispered, in hoarse, hissing tones. "I feared you, and I was right to fear you. I have heard of you before. I tried toprevent your coming here, but I could not. And I knew, when you came, that I was doomed--doomed!

"Yes, " he went on, looking around at the startled faces. "Yes, I killedJoseph Crawford. If I had not, he would have ruined me financially. Randolph knows that--and Philip Crawford, too. I had no thought ofmurder in my heart. I came here late that night to renew the request Ihad made in my earlier visit that evening--that Joseph Crawfordwould unload his X. Y. Stock gradually, and in that way save me. I hadovertraded; I had pyramided my paper profits until my affairs werein such a state that a sudden drop of ten points would wipe me outentirely. But Joseph Crawford was adamant to my entreaties. He said hewould see to it that at the opening of the market the next morning X. Y. Stock should be hammered down out of sight. Details are unnecessary. Youlawyers and financial men understand. It was in his power to ruin or tosave me and he chose to ruin me. I know, why, but that concerns no onehere. Then, as by chance, he moved a paper in the drawer, and I saw thepistol. In a moment of blind rage I grasped it and shot him. Death wasinstantaneous. Like one in a dream, I laid down the pistol, and cameaway. I was saved, but at what a cost! No one, I think, saw me come orgo. I was afterward puzzled to know what became of the pistol, and ofthe will which lay on the desk when I was there. These matters havesince been explained. Philip Crawford is as much a criminal as I. I shota man, but he robbed the dead. He has confessed and made restitution, sohe merits no punishment. In the nature of things, I cannot do that, butI can at least cheat the gallows. "

With these words, Mr. Porter put something into his mouth and swallowedit. 

Several people started toward him in dismay, but he waved them back, saying:

"Too late. Good-by, all. If possible, do not let my wife know the truth. Can't you tell her--I died of heart failure--or--something like that?"

The poison he had taken was of quick effect. Though a doctor wastelephoned for at once, Mr. Porter was dead before he came. 

Everything was now made clear, and Fleming Stone's work in West Sedgwickwas done. 

I was chagrined, for I felt that all he had discovered, I ought to havefound out for myself. 

But as I glanced at Florence, and saw her lovely eyes fixed on me, I knew that one reason I had failed in my work was because of herdistracting influence on it. 

"Take me away from here, " she said, and I gently led her from thelibrary. 

We went into the small drawing-room, and, unable to restrain myeagerness, I said, "Tell me, dear, have you broken with Hall?"

"Yes, " she said, looking up shyly into my face. "I learned from his ownlips the story of the Brooklyn girl. Then I knew that he really lovesher, but wanted to marry me for my fortune. This knowledge was enoughfor me. I realize now that I never loved Gregory, and I have told himso. "

"And you do love somebody else?" I whispered ecstatically. "Oh, Florence! I know this is not the time or the place, but just tell me, dear, if you ever love any one, it will be--"

"You" she murmured softly, and I was content.