THE WOMAN IN THE ALCOVE

By Anna Katharine Green

CONTENTS

 I THE WOMAN WITH THE DIAMOND II THE GLOVES II ANSON DURAND IV EXPLANATIONS V SUPERSTITION VI SUSPENSE VII NIGHT AND A VOICE VIII ARREST IX THE MOUSE NIBBLES AT THE NET X I ASTONISH THE INSPECTOR XI THE INSPECTOR ASTONISHES ME XII ALMOST XIII THE MISSING RECOMMENDATION XIV TRAPPED XV SEARS OR WELLGOOD XVI DOUBT XVII SWEETWATER IN A NEW ROLE XVIII THE CLOSED DOOR XIX THE FACE XX MOONLIGHT--AND A CLUE XXI GRIZEL! GRIZEL! XXII GUILT XXIII THE GREAT MOGUL

I. THE WOMAN WITH THE DIAMOND

I was, perhaps, the plainest girl in the room that night. I was also thehappiest--up to one o'clock. Then my whole world crumbled, or, at least, suffered an eclipse. Why and how, I am about to relate. 

I was not made for love. This I had often said to myself; very often oflate. In figure I am too diminutive, in face far too unbeautiful, for meto cherish expectations of this nature. Indeed, love had never enteredinto my plan of life, as was evinced by the nurse's diploma I had justgained after three years of hard study and severe training. 

I was not made for love. But if I had been; had I been gifted withheight, regularity of feature, or even with that eloquence of expressionwhich redeems all defects save those which savor of deformity, I knewwell whose eye I should have chosen to please, whose heart I should havefelt proud to win. 

This knowledge came with a rush to my heart--(did I say heart? I shouldhave said understanding, which is something very different)--when, atthe end of the first dance, I looked up from the midst of the bevyof girls by whom I was surrounded and saw Anson Durand's fine figureemerging from that quarter of the hall where our host and hostess stoodto receive their guests. His eye was roaming hither and thither and hismanner was both eager and expectant. Whom was he seeking? Some oneof the many bright and vivacious girls about me, for he turned almostinstantly our way. But which one?

I thought I knew. I remembered at whose house I had met him first, atwhose house I had seen him many times since. She was a lovely girl, witty and vivacious, and she stood at this very moment at my elbow. Inher beauty lay the lure, the natural lure for a man of his gifts andstriking personality. If I continued to watch, I should soon see hiscountenance light up under the recognition she could not fail to givehim. And I was right; in another instant it did, and with a brightnessthere was no mistaking. But one feeling common to the human heart lendssuch warmth, such expressiveness to the features. How handsome it madehim look, how distinguished, how everything I was not except--

But what does this mean? He has passed Miss Sperry--passed her witha smile and a friendly word--and is speaking to me, singling me out, offering me his arm! He is smiling, too, not as he smiled on MissSperry, but more warmly, with more that is personal in it. I took hisarm in a daze. The lights were dimmer than I thought; nothing was reallybright except his smile. It seemed to change the world for me. I forgotthat I was plain, forgot that I was small, with nothing to recommendme to the eye or heart, and let myself be drawn away, asking nothing, anticipating nothing, till I found myself alone with him in the fragrantrecesses of the conservatory, with only the throb of music in our earsto link us to the scene we had left. 

Why had he brought me here, into this fairyland of opalescent lights andintoxicating perfumes? What could he have to say--to show? Ah in anothermoment I knew. He had seized my hands, and love, ardent love, camepouring from his lips. 

Could it be real? Was I the object of all this feeling, I? If so, thenlife had changed for me indeed. 

Silent from rush of emotion, I searched his face to see if thisParadise, whose gates I was thus passionately bidden to enter, wasindeed a verity or only a dream born of the excitement of the dance andthe charm of a scene exceptional in its splendor and picturesquenesseven for so luxurious a city as New York. 

But it was no mere dream. Truth and earnestness were in his manner, andhis words were neither feverish nor forced. 

"I love you I! I need you!" So I heard, and so he soon made me believe. "You have charmed me from the first. Your tantalizing, trusting, loyalself, like no other, sweeter than any other, has drawn the heart from mybreast. I have seen many women, admired many women, but you only have Iloved. Will you be my wife?"

I was dazzled; moved beyond anything I could have conceived. I forgotall that I had hitherto said to myself--all that I had endeavoredto impress upon my heart when I beheld him approaching, intent, asI believed, in his search for another woman; and, confiding in hishonesty, trusting entirely to his faith, I allowed the plans andpurposes of years to vanish in the glamour of this new joy, and spokethe word which linked us together in a bond which half an hour before Ihad never dreamed would unite me to any man. 

His impassioned "Mine! mine!" filled my cup to overflowing. Somethingof the ecstasy of living entered my soul; which, in spite of all I havesuffered since, recreated the world for me and made all that went beforebut the prelude to the new life, the new joy. 

Oh, I was happy, happy, perhaps too happy! As the conservatory filledand we passed back into the adjoining room, the glimpse I caught ofmyself in one of the mirrors startled me into thinking so. For had itnot been for the odd color of my dress and the unique way in which Iwore my hair that night, I should not have recognized the beaming girlwho faced me so naively from the depths of the responsive glass. 

Can one be too happy? I do not know. I know that one can be tooperplexed, too burdened and too sad. 

Thus far I have spoken only of myself in connection with the evening'selaborate function. But though entitled by my old Dutch blood to acertain social consideration which I am happy to say never failed me, I, even in this hour of supreme satisfaction, attracted very littleattention and awoke small comment. There was another woman presentbetter calculated to do this. A fair woman, large and of a bountifulpresence, accustomed to conquest, and gifted with the power of carryingoff her victories with a certain lazy grace irresistibly fascinating tothe ordinary man; a gorgeously appareled woman, with a diamond on herbreast too vivid for most women, almost too vivid for her. I noticedthis diamond early in the evening, and then I noticed her. She was notas fine as the diamond, but she was very fine, and, had I been in a lessecstatic frame of mind, I might have envied the homage she received fromall the men, not excepting him upon whose arm I leaned. Later, there wasno one in the world I envied less. 

The ball was a private and very elegant one. There were some notableguests. One gentleman in particular was pointed out to me as anEnglishman of great distinction and political importance. I thoughthim a very interesting man for his years, but odd and a trifleself-centered. Though greatly courted, he seemed strangely restlessunder the fire of eyes to which he was constantly subjected, and onlyhappy when free to use his own in contemplation of the scene about him. Had I been less absorbed in my own happiness I might have noted soonerthan I did that this contemplation was confined to such groups asgathered about the lady with the diamond. But this I failed to observeat the time, and consequently was much surprised to come upon him, atthe end of one of the dances, talking With this lady in an animated andcourtly manner totally opposed to the apathy, amounting to boredom, withwhich he had hitherto met all advances. 

Yet it was not admiration for her person which he openly displayed. During the whole time he stood there his eyes seldom rose to her face;they lingered mainly-and this was what aroused my curiosity--on thegreat fan of ostrich plumes which this opulent beauty held againsther breast. Was he desirous of seeing the great diamond she thusunconsciously (or was it consciously) shielded from his gaze? It waspossible, for, as I continued to note him, he suddenly bent towardher and as quickly raised himself again with a look which was quiteinexplicable to me. The lady had shifted her fan a moment and his eyeshad fallen on the gem. 

The next thing I recall with any definiteness was a tete-a-teteconversation which I held with my lover on a certain yellow divan at theend of one of the halls. 

To the right of this divan rose a curtained recess, highly suggestive ofromance, called "the alcove. " As this alcove figures prominently in mystory, I will pause here to describe it. 

It was originally intended to contain a large group of statuary whichour host, Mr. Ramsdell, had ordered from Italy to adorn his new house. He is a man of original ideas in regard to such matters, and in thisinstance had gone so far as to have this end of the house constructedwith a special view to an advantageous display of this promised workof art. Fearing the ponderous effect of a pedestal large enough to holdsuch a considerable group, he had planned to raise it to the level ofthe eye by having the alcove floor built a few feet higher than the mainone. A flight of low, wide steps connected the two, which, following thecurve of the wall, added much to the beauty of this portion of the hall. 

The group was a failure and was never shipped; but the alcove remained, and, possessing as it did all the advantages of a room in the way ofheat and light, had been turned into a miniature retreat of exceptionalbeauty. 

The seclusion it offered extended, or so we were happy to think, to thesolitary divan at its base on which Mr. Durand and I were seated. Withpossibly an undue confidence in the advantage of our position, we werediscussing a subject interesting only to ourselves, when Mr. Durandinterrupted himself to declare: "You are the woman I want, you and youonly. And I want you soon. When do you think you can marry me? Within aweek--if--"

Did my look stop him? I was startled. I had heard no incoherent phrasefrom him before. 

"A week!" I remonstrated. "We take more time than that to fit ourselvesfor a journey or some transient pleasure. I hardly realize my engagementyet. "

"You have not been thinking of it for these last two months as I have. "

"No, " I replied demurely, forgetting everything else in my delight atthis admission. 

"Nor are you a nomad among clubs and restaurants. "

"No, I have a home. "

"Nor do you love me as deeply as I do you. "

This I thought open to argument. 

"The home you speak of is a luxurious one, " he continued. "I can notoffer you its equal Do you expect me to?"

I was indignant. 

"You know that I do not. Shall I, who deliberately chose a nurse's lifewhen an indulgent uncle's heart and home were open to me, shrink frombraving poverty with the man I love? We will begin as simply as youplease--"

"No, " he peremptorily put in, yet with a certain hesitancy which seemedto speak of doubts he hardly acknowledged to himself, "I will not marryyou if I must expose you to privation or to the genteel poverty I hate. I love you more than you realize, and wish to make your life a happyone. I can not give you all you have been accustomed to in your richuncle's house, but if matters prosper with me, if the chance I havebuilt on succeeds--and it will fail or succeed tonight--you will havethose comforts which love will heighten into luxuries and--and--"

He was becoming incoherent again, and this time with his eyes fixedelsewhere than on my face. Following his gaze, I discovered what haddistracted his attention. The lady with the diamond was approaching uson her way to the alcove. She was accompanied by two gentlemen, bothstrangers to me, and her head, sparkling with brilliants, was turningfrom one to the other with an indolent grace. I was not surprised thatthe man at my side quivered and made a start as if to rise. She was agorgeous image. In comparison with her imposing figure in its trailingrobe of rich pink velvet, my diminutive frame in its sea-green gown musthave looked as faded and colorless as a half-obliterated pastel. 

"A striking woman, " I remarked as I saw he was not likely to resume theconversation which her presence had interrupted. "And what a diamond!"

The glance he cast me was peculiar. 

"Did you notice it particularly?" he asked. 

Astonished, for there was something very uneasy in his manner so thatI half expected to see him rise and join the group he was so eagerlywatching without waiting for my lips to frame a response, I quicklyreplied:

"It would be difficult not to notice what one would naturally expect tosee only on the breast of a queen. But perhaps she is a queen. I shouldjudge so from the homage which follows her. "

His eyes sought mine. There was inquiry in them, but it was an inquiry Idid not understand. 

"What can you know about diamonds?" he presently demanded. "Nothing buttheir glitter, and glitter is not all, --the gem she wears may be a verytawdry one. "

I flushed with humiliation. He was a dealer in gems--that was hisbusiness--and the check which he had put upon my enthusiasm certainlymade me conscious of my own presumption. Yet I was not disposed to takeback my words. I had had a better opportunity than himself for seeingthis remarkable jewel, and, with the perversity of a somewhat ruffledmood, I burst forth, as soon as the color had subsided from my cheeks:

"No, no! It is glorious, magnificent. I never saw its like. I doubt ifyou ever have, for all your daily acquaintance with jewels. Its valuemust be enormous. Who is she? You seem to know her. "

It was a direct question, but I received no reply. Mr. Durand's eyes hadfollowed the lady, who had lingered somewhat ostentatiously on thetop step and they did not return to me till she had vanished withher companions behind the long plush curtain which partly veiled theentrance. By this time he had forgotten my words, if he had ever heardthem and it was with the forced animation of one whose thoughts areelsewhere that he finally returned to the old plea:

When would I marry him? If he could offer me a home in a month--and hewould know by to-morrow if he could do so--would I come to him then? Hewould not say in a week; that was perhaps to soon; but in a month? WouldI not promise to be his in a month?

What I answered I scarcely recall. His eyes had stolen back to thealcove and mine had followed them. The gentlemen who had accompaniedthe lady inside were coming out again, but others were advancing to taketheir places, and soon she was engaged in holding a regular court inthis favored retreat. 

Why should this interest me? Why should I notice her or look that wayat all? Because Mr. Durand did? Possibly. I remember that for all hisardent love-making, I felt a little piqued that he should divide hisattentions in this way. Perhaps I thought that for this evening, atleast, he might have been blind to a mere coquette's fascinations. 

I was thus doubly engaged in listening to my lover's words and inwatching the various gentlemen who went up and down the steps, when aformer partner advanced and reminded me that I had promised him a waltz. Loath to leave Mr. Durand, yet seeing no way of excusing myself to Mr. Fox, I cast an appealing glance at the former and was greatly chagrinedto find him already on his feet. 

"Enjoy your dance, " he cried; "I have a word to say to Mrs. Fairbrother, " and was gone before my new partner had taken me on hisarm. 

Was Mrs. Fairbrother the lady with the diamond? Yes; as I turned toenter the parlor with my partner, I caught a glimpse of Mr. Durand'stall figure just disappearing from the step behind the sage-greencurtains. 

"Who is Mrs. Fairbrother?" I inquired of Mr. Fox at the end of thedance. 

Mr. Fox, who is one of society's perennial beaux, knows everybody. 

"She is--well, she was Abner Fairbrother's wife. You know Fairbrother, the millionaire who built that curious structure on Eighty-sixth Street. At present they are living apart--an amicable understanding, I believe. Her diamond makes her conspicuous. It is one of the most remarkablestones in New York, perhaps in the United States. Have you observed it?"

"Yes--that is, at a distance. Do you think her very handsome?"

"Mrs. Fairbrother? She's called so, but she's not my style. " Here hegave me a killing glance. "I admire women of mind and heart. They do notneed to wear jewels worth an ordinary man's fortune. "

I looked about for an excuse to leave this none too desirable partner. 

"Let us go back into the long hall, " I urged. "The ceaseless whirl ofthese dancers is making me dizzy. "

With the ease of a gallant man he took me on his arm and soon we werepromenading again in the direction of the alcove. A passing glimpse ofits interior was afforded me as we turned to retrace our steps in frontof the yellow divan. The lady with the diamond was still there. A foldof the superb pink velvet she wore protruded across the gap made by thehalf-drawn curtains, just as it had done a half-hour before. But itwas impossible to see her face or who was with her. What I could see, however, and did, was the figure of a man leaning against the wall atthe foot of the steps. At first I thought this person unknown to me, then I perceived that he was no other than the chief guest of theevening, the Englishman of whom I have previously spoken. 

His expression had altered. He looked now both anxious and absorbed, particularly anxious and particularly absorbed; so much so that I wasnot surprised that no one ventured to approach him. Again I wondered andagain I asked myself for whom or for what he was waiting. For Mr. Durandto leave this lady's presence? No, no, I would not believe that. Mr. Durand could not be there still; yet some women make it difficult fora man to leave them and, realizing this, I could not forbear castinga parting glance behind me as, yielding to Mr. Fox's importunities, Iturned toward the supper-room. It showed me the Englishman in the actof lifting two cups of coffee from a small table standing near thereception-room door. As his manner plainly betokened whither he wasbound with this refreshment, I felt all my uneasiness vanish, andwas able to take my seat at one of the small tables with which thesupper-room was filled, and for a few minutes, at least, lend an earto Mr. Fox's vapid compliments and trite opinions. Then my attentionwandered. 

I had not moved nor had I shifted my gaze from the scene before me theordinary scene of a gay and well-filled supper-room, yet I found myselflooking, as if through a mist I had not even seen develop, at somethingas strange, unusual and remote as any phantasm, yet distinct enough inits outlines for me to get a decided impression of a square of lightsurrounding the figure of a man in a peculiar pose not easily imaginedand not easily described. It all passed in an instant, and I sat staringat the window opposite me with the feeling of one who has just seena vision. Yet almost immediately I forgot the whole occurrence in myanxiety as to Mr. Durand's whereabouts. Certainly he was amusing himselfvery much elsewhere or he would have found an opportunity of joiningme long before this. He was not even in sight, and I grew weary of theendless menu and the senseless chit chat of my companion, and, findinghim amenable to my whims, rose from my seat at table and made my way toa group of acquaintances standing just outside the supper-room door. AsI listened to their greetings some impulse led me to cast another glancedown the hall toward the alcove. A man--a waiter--was issuing from it ina rush. Bad news was in his face, and as his eyes encountered those ofMr. Ramsdell, who was advancing hurriedly to meet him, he plunged downthe steps with a cry which drew a crowd about the two in an instant. 

What was it? What had happened?

Mad with an anxiety I did not stop to define, I rushed toward this groupnow swaying from side to side in irrepressible excitement, when suddenlyeverything swam before me and I fell in a swoon to the floor. 

Some one had shouted aloud

"Mrs. Fairbrother has been murdered and her diamond stolen! Lock thedoors!"

II. THE GLOVES

I must have remained insensible for many minutes, for when I returned tofull consciousness the supper-room was empty and the two hundred guestsI had left seated at table were gathered in agitated groups about thehall. This was what I first noted; not till afterward did I realize myown situation. I was lying on a couch in a remote corner of this samehall and beside me, but not looking at me, stood my lover, Mr. Durand. 

How he came to know my state and find me in the general disturbance Idid not stop to inquire. It was enough for me at that moment to look upand see him so near. Indeed, the relief was so great, the sense of hisprotection so comforting that I involuntarily stretched out my hand ingratitude toward him, but, failing to attract his attention, slipped tothe floor and took my stand at his side. This roused him and he gave mea look which steadied me, in spite of the thrill of surprise with whichI recognized his extreme pallor and a certain peculiar hesitation in hismanner not at all natural to it. 

Meanwhile, some words uttered near us were slowly making their wayinto my benumbed brain. The waiter who had raised the first alarm wasendeavoring to describe to an importunate group in advance of us what hehad come upon in that murderous alcove. 

"I was carrying about a tray of ices, " he was saying, "and seeing thelady sitting there, went up. I had expected to find the place full ofgentlemen, but she was all alone, and did not move as I picked my wayover her long train. The next moment I had dropped ices, tray and all. Ibad come face to face with her and seen that she was dead. She had beenstabbed and robbed. There was no diamond on her breast, but there wasblood. "

A hubbub of disordered sentences seasoned with horrified cries followedthis simple description. Then a general movement took place in thedirection of the alcove, during which Mr. Durand stooped to my ear andwhispered:

"We must get out of this. You are not strong enough to stand suchexcitement. Don't you think we can escape by the window over there?"

"What, without wraps and in such a snowstorm?" I protested. "Besides, uncle will be looking for me. He came with me, you know. "

An expression of annoyance, or was it perplexity, crossed Mr. Durand'sface, and he made a movement as if to leave me. 

"I must go, " he began, but stopped at my glance of surprise and assumeda different air--one which became him very much better. "Pardon me, dear, I will take you to your uncle. This--this dreadful tragedy, interrupting so gay a scene, has quite upset me. I was always sensitiveto the sight, the smell, even to the very mention of the word blood. "

So was I, but not to the point of cowardice. But then I had not justcome from an interview with the murdered woman. Her glances, hersmiles, the lift of her eyebrows were not fresh memories to me. Someconsideration was certainly due him for the shock he must be laboringunder. Yet I did not know how to keep back the vital question. 

"Who did it? You must have heard some one say. "

"I have heard nothing, " was his somewhat fierce rejoinder. Then, as Imade a move, "What you do not wish to follow the crowd there?"

"I wish to find my uncle, and he is in that crowd. "

Mr. Durand said nothing further, and together we passed down the hall. A strange mood pervaded my mind. Instead of wishing to fly a scene whichunder ordinary conditions would have filled me with utter repugnance, I felt a desire to see and hear everything. Not from curiosity, suchas moved most of the people about me, but because of some stronginstinctive feeling I could not understand; as if it were my heart whichhad been struck, and my fate which was trembling in the balance. 

We were consequently among the first to hear such further details aswere allowed to circulate among the now well-nigh frenzied guests. Noone knew the perpetrator of the deed nor did there appear to be anydirect evidence calculated to fix his identity. Indeed, the sudden deathof this beautiful woman in the midst of festivity might have been lookedupon as suicide, if the jewel had not been missing from her breastand the instrument of death removed from the wound. So far, the casualsearch which had been instituted had failed to produce this weapon; butthe police would be here soon and then something would be done. As tothe means of entrance employed by the assassin, there seemed to be butone opinion. The alcove contained a window opening upon a small balcony. By this he had doubtless entered and escaped. The long plush curtainswhich, during the early part of the evening, had remained looped backon either side of the casement, were found at the moment of the crime'sdiscovery closely drawn together. Certainly a suspicious circumstance. However, the question was one easily settled. If any one had approachedby the balcony there would be marks in the snow to show it. Mr. Ramsdellhad gone out to see. He would be coming back soon. 

"Do you think this a probable explanation of the crime?" I demandedof Mr. Durand at this juncture. "If I remember rightly this windowoverlooks the carriage drive; it must, therefore, be within plainsight of the door through which some three hundred guests have passedto-night. How could any one climb to such a height, lift the window andstep in without being seen?"

"You forget the awning. " He spoke quickly and with unexpected vivacity. "The awning runs up very near this window and quite shuts it off fromthe sight of arriving guests. The drivers of departing carriages couldsee it if they chanced to glance back. But their eyes are usually ontheir horses in such a crowd. The probabilities are against any of themhaving looked up. " His brow had cleared; a weight seemed removed fromhis mind. "When I went into the alcove to see Mrs. Fairbrother, she wassitting in a chair near this window looking out. I remember the effectof her splendor against the snow sifting down in a steady stream behindher. The pink velvet--the soft green of the curtains on either side--herbrilliants--and the snow for a background! Yes, the murderer came inthat way. Her figure would be plain to any one outside, and if she movedand the diamond shone--Don't you see what a probable theory it is?There must be ways by which a desperate man might reach that balcony. Ibelieve--"

How eager he was and with what a look he turned when the word camefiltering through the crowd that, though footsteps had been found in thesnow pointing directly toward the balcony, there was none on the balconyitself, proving, as any one could see, that the attack had not comefrom without, since no one could enter the alcove by the window withoutstepping on the balcony. 

"Mr. Durand has suspicions of his own, " I explained determinedly tomyself. "He met some one going in as he stepped out. Shall I ask him toname this person?" No, I did not have the courage; not while his facewore so stern a look and was so resolutely turned away. 

The next excitement was a request from Mr. Ramsdell for us all to gointo the drawing-room. This led to various cries from hysterical lips, such as, "We are going to be searched!" "He believes the thief andmurderer to be still in the house!" "Do you see the diamond on me?" "Whydon't they confine their suspicions to the favored few who were admittedto the alcove?"

"They will, " remarked some one close to my ear. 

But quickly as I turned I could not guess from whom the comment came. Possibly from a much beflowered, bejeweled, elderly dame, whose eyeswere fixed on Mr. Durand's averted face. If so, she received a defiantlook from mine, which I do not believe she forgot in a hurry. 

Alas! it was not the only curious, I might say searching glance Isurprised directed against him as we made our way to where I could seemy uncle struggling to reach us from a short side hall. The whisperseemed to have gone about that Mr. Durand had been the last one toconverse with Mrs. Fairbrother prior to the tragedy. 

In time I had the satisfaction of joining my uncle. He betrayed greatrelief at the sight of me, and, encouraged by his kindly smile, I introduced Mr. Durand. My conscious air must have produced itsimpression, for he turned a startled and inquiring look upon mycompanion, then took me resolutely on his own arm, saying:

"There is likely to be some unpleasantness ahead for all of us. I donot think the police will allow any one to go till that diamond hasbeen looked for. This is a very serious matter, dear. So many think themurderer was one of the guests. "

"I think so, too, " said I. But why I thought so or why I should say sowith such vehemence, I do not know even now. 

My uncle looked surprised. 

"You had better not advance any opinions, " he advised. "A lady likeyourself should have none on a subject so gruesome. I shall nevercease regretting bringing you here tonight. I shall seize on the firstopportunity to take you home. At present we are supposed to await theaction of our host. "

"He can not keep all these people here long, " I ventured. 

"No; most of us will be relieved soon. Had you not better get your wrapsso as to be ready to go as soon as he gives the word?"

"I should prefer to have a peep at the people in the drawing-roomfirst, " was my perverse reply. "I don't know why I want to see them, but I do; and, uncle, I might as well tell you now that I engaged myselfto Mr. Durand this evening--the gentleman with me when you first cameup. "

"You have engaged yourself to--to this man--to marry him, do you mean?"

I nodded, with a sly look behind to see if Mr. Durand were near enoughto hear. He was not, and I allowed my enthusiasm to escape in a fewquick words. 

"He has chosen me, " I said, "the plainest, most uninteresting puss inthe whole city. " My uncle smiled. "And I believe he loves me; at allevents, I know that I love him. "

My uncle sighed, while giving me the most affectionate of glances. 

"It's a pity you should have come to this understanding to-night, " saidhe. "He's an acquaintance of the murdered woman, and it is only rightfor you to know that you will have to leave him behind when you startfor home. All who have been seen entering that alcove this evening willnecessarily be detained here till the coroner arrives. "

My uncle and I strolled toward the drawing-room and as we did so wepassed the library. It held but one occupant, the Englishman. He wasseated before a table, and his appearance was such as precluded anyattempt at intrusion, even if one had been so disposed. There was afixity in his gaze and a frown on his powerful forehead which bespoke amind greatly agitated. It was not for me to read that mind, much asit interested me, and I passed on, chatting, as if I had not the leastdesire to stop. 

I can not say how much time elapsed before my uncle touched me on thearm with the remark:

"The police are here in full force. I saw a detective in plain clotheslook in here a minute ago. He seemed to have his eye on you. There he isagain! What can he want? No, don't turn; he's gone away now. "

Frightened as I had never been in all my life, I managed to keep my headup and maintain an indifferent aspect. What, as my uncle said, coulda detective want of me? I had nothing to do with the crime; not in theremotest way could I be said to be connected with it; why, then, had Icaught the attention of the police? Looking about, I sought Mr. Durand. He had left me on my uncle's coming up, but had remained, as I supposed, within sight. But at this moment he was nowhere to be seen. Was I afraidon his account? Impossible; yet--

Happily just then the word was passed about that the police had givenorders that, with the exception of such as had been requested to remainto answer questions, the guests generally should feel themselves atliberty to depart. 

The time had now come to take a stand and I informed my uncle, to hisevident chagrin, that I should not leave as long as any excuse could befound for staying. 

He said nothing at the time, but as the noise of departing carriagesgradually lessened and the great hall and drawing-rooms began to wear alook of desertion he at last ventured on this gentle protest:

"You have more pluck, Rita, than I supposed. Do you think it wise tostay on here? Will not people imagine that you have been requested to doso? Look at those waiters hanging about in the different doorways. Runup and put on your wraps. Mr. Durand will come to the house fast enoughas soon as he is released. I give you leave to sit up for him if youwill; only let us leave this place before that impertinent little mandares to come around again, " he artfully added. 

But I stood firm, though somewhat moved by his final suggestion; and, being a small tyrant in my way, at least with him, I carried my point. 

Suddenly my anxiety became poignant. A party of men, among whom I sawMr. Durand, appeared at the end of the hall, led by a very small butself-important personage whom my uncle immediately pointed out as thedetective who had twice come to the door near which I stood. As thisman looked up and saw me still there, a look of relief crossed his face, and, after a word or two with another stranger of seeming authority, he detached himself from the group he had ushered upon the scene, and, approaching me respectfully enough, said with a deprecatory glance at myuncle whose frown he doubtless understood:

"Miss Van Arsdale, I believe?"

I nodded, too choked to speak. 

"I am sorry, Madam, if you were expecting to go. Inspector Dalzell hasarrived and would like to speak to you. Will you step into one of theserooms? Not the library, but any other. He will come to you as quickly ashe can. "

I tried to carry it off bravely and as if I saw nothing in this summonswhich was unique or alarming. But I succeeded only in dividing awavering glance between him and the group of men of which he had justformed a part. In the latter were several gentlemen whom I had noted inMrs. Fairbrother's train early in the evening and a few strangers, two of whom were officials. Mr. Durand was with the former, and hisexpression did not encourage me. 

"The affair is very serious, " commented the detective on leaving me. "That's our excuse for any trouble we may be putting you to. " I clutchedmy uncle's arm. 

"Where shall we go?" I asked. "The drawing-room is too large. In thishall my eyes are for ever traveling in the direction of the alcove. Don't you know some little room? Oh, what, what can he want of me?"

"Nothing serious, nothing important, " blustered my good uncle. "Sometriviality such as you can answer in a moment. A little room? Yes, Iknow one, there, under the stairs. Come, I will find the door for you. Why did we ever come to this wretched ball?"

I had no answer for this. Why, indeed!

My uncle, who is a very patient man, guided me to the place he hadpicked out, without adding a word to the ejaculation in which he hadjust allowed his impatience to expend itself. But once seated within, and out of the range of peering eyes and listening ears, he allowed asigh to escape him which expressed the fullness of his agitation. 

"My dear, " he began, and stopped. "I feel--" here he again came to apause--"that you should know--"

"What?" I managed to ask. 

"That I do not like Mr. Durand and--that others do not like him. "

"Is it because of something you knew about him before to-night?"

He made no answer. 

"Or because he was seen, like many other gentlemen, talking with thatwoman some time before--a long time before--she was attacked for herdiamond and murdered?"

"Pardon me, my dear, he was the last one seen talking to her. Someone may yet be found who went in after he came out, but as yet he isconsidered the last. Mr. Ramsdell himself told me so. "

"It makes no difference, " I exclaimed, in all the heat of mylong-suppressed agitation. "I am willing to stake my life on hisintegrity and honor. No man could talk to me as he did early thisevening with any vile intentions at heart. He was interested, no doubt, like many others, in one who had the name of being a captivating woman, but--"

I paused in sudden alarm. A look had crossed my uncle's face whichassured me that we were no longer alone. Who could have entered sosilently? In some trepidation I turned to see. A gentleman was standingin the doorway, who smiled as I met his eye. 

"Is this Miss Van Arsdale?" he asked. 

Instantly my courage, which had threatened to leave me, returned and Ismiled. 

"I am, " said I. "Are you the inspector?"

"Inspector Dalzell, " he explained with a bow, which included my uncle. 

Then he closed the door. 

"I hope I have not frightened you, " he went on, approaching me with agentlemanly air. "A little matter has come up concerning which I mean tobe perfectly frank with you. It may prove to be of trivial importance;if so, you will pardon my disturbing you. Mr. Durand--you know him?"

"I am engaged to him, " I declared before poor uncle could raise hishand. 

"You are engaged to him. Well, that makes it difficult, and yet, in somerespects, easier for me to ask a certain question. "

It must have made it more difficult than easy, for he did not proceed toput this question immediately, but went on:

"You know that Mr. Durand visited Mrs. Fairbrother in the alcove alittle while before her death?"

"I have been told so. "

"He was seen to go in, but I have not yet found any one who saw him comeout; consequently we have been unable to fix the exact minute whenhe did so. What is the matter, Miss Van Arsdale? You want to saysomething?"

"No, no, " I protested, reconsidering my first impulse. Then, as I methis look, "He can probably tell you that himself. I am sure he would nothesitate. "

"We shall ask him later, " was the inspector's response. "Meanwhile, areyou ready to assure me that since that time he has not intrusted youwith a little article to keep--No, no, I do not mean the diamond, "he broke in, in very evident dismay, as I fell back from him inirrepressible indignation and alarm. "The diamond--well, we shall lookfor that later; it is another article we are in search of now, one whichMr. Durand might very well have taken in his hand without realizing justwhat he was doing. As it is important for us to find this article, andas it is one he might very naturally have passed over to you when hefound himself in the hall with it in his hand, I have ventured to askyou if this surmise is correct. "

"It is not, " I retorted fiercely, glad that I could speak from my veryheart. "He has given me nothing to keep for him. He would not--"

Why that peculiar look in the inspector's eye? Why did he reach out fora chair and seat me in it before he took up my interrupted sentence andfinished it?

"--would not give you anything to hold which had belonged to anotherwoman? Miss Van Arsdale, you do not know men. They do many things whicha young, trusting girl like yourself would hardly expect from them. "

"Not Mr. Durand, " I maintained stoutly. 

"Perhaps not; let us hope not. " Then, with a quick change of manner, he bent toward me, with a sidelong look at uncle, and, pointing to mygloves, remarked: "You wear gloves. Did you feel the need of two pairs, that you carry another in that pretty bag hanging from your arm?"

I started, looked down, and then slowly drew up into my hand the bag hehad mentioned. The white finger of a glove was protruding from the top. Any one could see it; many probably had. What did it mean? I had broughtno extra pair with me. 

"This is not mine, " I began, faltering into silence as I perceived myuncle turn and walk a step or two away. 

"The article we are looking for, " pursued the inspector, "is a pair oflong, white gloves, supposed to have been worn by Mrs. Fairbrother whenshe entered the alcove. Do you mind showing me those, a finger of whichI see?"

I dropped the bag into his hand. The room and everything in it waswhirling around me. But when I noted what trouble it was to his clumsyfingers to open it, my senses returned and, reaching for the bag, Ipulled it open and snatched out the gloves. They had been hastily rolledup and some of the fingers were showing. 

"Let me have them, " he said. 

With quaking heart and shaking fingers I handed over the gloves. 

"Mrs. Fairbrother's hand was not a small one, " he observed as he slowlyunrolled them. "Yours is. We can soon tell--"

But that sentence was never finished. As the gloves fell open in hisgrasp he uttered a sudden, sharp ejaculation and I a smothered shriek. An object of superlative brilliancy had rolled out from them. Thediamond! the gem which men said was worth a king's ransom, and which weall knew had just cost a life. 

III. ANSON DURAND

With benumbed senses and a dismayed heart, I stared at the fallen jewelas at some hateful thing menacing both my life and honor. 

"I have had nothing to do with it, " I vehemently declared. "I did notput the gloves in my bag, nor did I know the diamond was in them. Ifainted at the first alarm, and--"

"There! there! I know, " interposed the inspector kindly. "I do not doubtyou in the least; not when there is a man to doubt. Miss Van Arsdale, you had better let your uncle take you home. I will see that the hallis cleared for you. Tomorrow I may wish to talk to you again, but I willspare you all further importunity tonight. "

I shook my head. It would require more courage to leave at that momentthan to stay. Meeting the inspector's eye firmly, I quietly declared, "If Mr. Durand's good name is to suffer in any way, I will not forsakehim. I have confidence in his integrity, if you have not. It was not hishand, but one much more guilty, which dropped this jewel into the bag. "

"So! so! do not be too sure of that, little woman. You had better takeyour lesson at once. It will be easier for you, and more wholesome forhim. "

Here he picked up the jewel. 

"Well, they said it was a wonder!" he exclaimed, in sudden admiration. "I am not surprised, now that I have seen a great gem, at the famousstories I have read of men risking life and honor for their possession. If only no blood had been shed!"

"Uncle! uncle!" I wailed aloud in my agony. 

It was all my lips could utter, but to uncle it was enough. Speakingfor the first time, he asked to have a passage made for us, and when theinspector moved forward to comply, he threw his arm about me, and wasendeavoring to find fitting words with which to fill up the delay, whena short altercation was heard from the doorway, and Mr. Durand camerushing in, followed immediately by the inspector. 

His first look was not at myself, but at the bag, which still hung frommy arm. As I noted this action, my whole inner self seemed to collapse, dragging my happiness down with it. But my countenance remainedunchanged, too much so, it seems; for when his eye finally rose to myface, he found there what made him recoil and turn with something likefierceness on his companion. 

"You have been talking to her, " he vehemently protested. "Perhaps youhave gone further than that. What has happened here? I think I ought toknow. She is so guileless, Inspector Dalzell; so perfectly free from allconnection with this crime. Why have you shut her up here, and plied herwith questions, and made her look at me with such an expression, whenall you have against me is just what you have against some half-dozenothers, --that I was weak enough, or unfortunate enough, to spend a fewminutes with that unhappy woman in the alcove before she died?"

"It might be well if Miss Van Arsdale herself would answer you, " was theinspector's quiet retort. "What you have said may constitute all that wehave against you, but it is not all we have against her. "

I gasped, not so much at this seeming accusation, the motive of whichI believed myself to understand, but at the burning blush with which itwas received by Mr. Durand. 

"What do you mean?" he demanded, with certain odd breaks in his voice. "What can you have against her?"

"A triviality, " returned the inspector, with a look in my direction thatwas, I felt, not to be mistaken. 

"I do not call it a triviality, " I burst out. "It seems that Mrs. Fairbrother, for all her elaborate toilet, was found without gloves onher arms. As she certainly wore them on entering the alcove, the policehave naturally been looking for them. And where do you think they havefound them? Not in the alcove with her, not in the possession of the manwho undoubtedly carried them away with him, but--"

"I know, I know, " Mr. Durand hoarsely put in. "You need not say anymore. Oh, my poor Rita! what have I brought upon you by my weakness?"

"Weakness!"

He started; I started; my voice was totally unrecognizable. 

"I should give it another name, " I added coldly. 

For a moment he seemed to lose heart, then he lifted his head again, and looked as handsome as when he pleaded for my hand in the littleconservatory. 

"You have that right, " said he; "besides, weakness at such a time, andunder such an exigency, is little short of wrong. It was unmanly in meto endeavor to secrete these gloves; more than unmanly for me to choosefor their hiding-place the recesses of an article belonging exclusivelyto yourself. I acknowledge it, Rita, and shall meet only my justpunishment if you deny me in the future both your sympathy and regard. But you must let me assure you and these gentlemen also, one of whom canmake it very unpleasant for me, that consideration for you, much morethan any miserable anxiety about myself, lay at the bottom of what muststrike you all as an act of unpardonable cowardice. From the moment Ilearned of this woman's murder in the alcove, where I had visited her, I realized that every one who had been seen to approach her withina half-hour of her death would be subjected to a more or less rigidinvestigation, and I feared, if her gloves were found in my possession, some special attention might be directed my way which would cause youunmerited distress. So, yielding to an impulse which I now recognize asa most unwise, as well as unworthy one, I took advantage of the bustleabout us, and of the insensibility into which you had fallen, to tuckthese miserable gloves into the bag I saw lying on the floor at yourside. I do not ask your pardon. My whole future life shall be devoted towinning that; I simply wish to state a fact. "

"Very good!" It was the inspector who spoke; I could not have uttered aword to save my life. "Perhaps you will now feel that you owe it to thisyoung lady to add how you came to have these gloves in your possession?"

"Mrs. Fairbrother handed them to me. "

"Handed them to you?"

"Yes, I hardly know why myself. She asked me to take care of them forher. I know that this must strike you as a very peculiar statement. It was my realization of the unfavorable effect it could not fail toproduce upon those who beard it, which made me dread any interrogationon the subject. But I assure you it was as I say. She put the glovesinto my hand while I was talking to her, saying they incommoded her. "

"And you?"

"Well, I held them for a few minutes, then I put them in my pocket, butquite automatically, and without thinking very much about it. She wasa woman accustomed to have her own way. People seldom questioned it, Ijudge. "

Here the tension about my throat relaxed, and I opened my lips to speak. But the inspector, with a glance of some authority, forestalled me. 

"Were the gloves open or rolled up when she offered them to you?"

"They were rolled up. "

"Did you see her take them off?"

"Assuredly. "

"And roll them up?"

"Certainly. "

"After which she passed them over to you?"

"Not immediately. She let them lie in her lap for a while. "

"While you talked?"

Mr. Durand bowed. 

"And looked at the diamond?"

Mr. Durand bowed for the second time. 

"Had you ever seen so fine a diamond before?"

"No. "

"Yet you deal in precious stones?"

"That is my business. "

"And are regarded as a judge of them?"

"I have that reputation. "

"Mr. Durand, would you know this diamond if you saw it?"

"I certainly should. "

"The setting was an uncommon one, I hear. "

"Quite an unusual one. "

The inspector opened his hand. 

"Is this the article?"

"Good God! Where--"

"Don't you know?"

"I do not. "

The inspector eyed him gravely. 

"Then I have a bit of news for you. It was hidden in the gloves you tookfrom Mrs. Fairbrother. Miss Van Arsdale was present at their unrolling. "

Do we live, move, breathe at certain moments? It hardly seems so. I knowthat I was conscious of but one sense, that of seeing; and of but onefaculty, that of judgment. Would he flinch, break down, betray guilt, orsimply show astonishment? I chose to believe it was the latter feelingonly which informed his slowly whitening and disturbed features. Certainly it was all his words expressed, as his glances flew from thestone to the gloves, and back again to the inspector's face. 

"I can not believe it. I can not believe it. " And his hand flew wildlyto his forehead. 

"Yet it is the truth, Mr. Durand, and one you have now to face. How willyou do this? By any further explanations, or by what you may consider adiscreet silence?"

"I have nothing to explain, --the facts are as I have stated. "

The inspector regarded him with an earnestness which made my heart sink. 

"You can fix the time of this visit, I hope; tell us, I mean, just whenyou left the alcove. You must have seen some one who can speak for you. "

"I fear not. "

Why did he look so disturbed and uncertain?

"There were but few persons in the hall just then, " he went on toexplain. "No one was sitting on the yellow divan. "

"You know where you went, though? Whom you saw and what you did beforethe alarm spread?"

"Inspector, I am quite confused. I did go somewhere; I did not remain inthat part of the hall. But I can tell you nothing definite, save thatI walked about, mostly among strangers, till the cry rose which sent usall in one direction and me to the side of my fainting sweetheart. "

"Can you pick out any stranger you talked to, or any one who might havenoted you during this interval? You see, for the sake of this littlewoman, I wish to give you every chance. "

"Inspector, I am obliged to throw myself on your mercy. I have no suchwitness to my innocence as you call for. Innocent people seldom have. It is only the guilty who take the trouble to provide for suchcontingencies. "

This was all very well, if it had been uttered with a straightforwardair and in a clear tone. But it was not. I who loved him felt that itwas not, and consequently was more or less prepared for the change whichnow took place in the inspector's manner. Yet it pierced me to the heartto observe this change, and I instinctively dropped my face into myhands when I saw him move toward Mr. Durand with some final order orword of caution. 

Instantly (and who can account for such phenomena?) there floated intoview before my retina a reproduction of the picture I had seen, orimagined myself to have seen, in the supper-room; and as at that timeit opened before me an unknown vista quite removed from the surroundingscene, so it did now, and I beheld again in faint outlines, and yet withthe effect of complete distinctness, a square of light through whichappeared an open passage partly shut off from view by a half-liftedcurtain and the tall figure of a man holding back this curtain andgazing, or seeming to gaze, at his own breast, on which he had alreadylaid one quivering finger. 

What did it mean? In the excitement of the horrible occurrence whichhad engrossed us all, I had forgotten this curious experience; but onfeeling anew the vague sensation of shock and expectation which seemedits natural accompaniment, I became conscious of a sudden convictionthat the picture which had opened before me in the supper-room was theresult of a reflection in a glass or mirror of something then going onin a place not otherwise within the reach of my vision; a reflection, the importance of which I suddenly realized when I recalled at what acritical moment it had occurred. A man in a state of dread looking athis breast, within five minutes of the stir and rush of the dreadfulevent which had marked this evening!

A hope, great as the despair in which I had just been sunk, gave mecourage to drop my hands and advance impetuously toward the inspector. 

"Don't speak, I pray; don't judge any of us further till you have heardwhat I have to say. "

In great astonishment and with an aspect of some severity, he askedme what I had to say now which I had not had the opportunity of sayingbefore. I replied with all the passion of a forlorn hope that it wasonly at this present moment I remembered a fact which might have a verydecided bearing on this case; and, detecting evidences, as I thought, ofrelenting on his part, I backed up this statement by an entreaty for afew words with him apart, as the matter I had to tell was private andpossibly too fanciful for any ear but his own. 

He looked as if he apprehended some loss of valuable time, but, touchedby the involuntary gesture of appeal with which I supplemented myrequest, he led me into a corner, where, with just an encouraging glancetoward Mr. Durand, who seemed struck dumb by my action, I told theinspector of that momentary picture which I had seen reflected in what Iwas now sure was some window-pane or mirror. 

"It was at a time coincident, or very nearly coincident, with theperpetration of the crime you are now investigating, " I concluded. "Within five minutes afterward came the shout which roused us all towhat had happened in the alcove. I do not know what passage I saw orwhat door or even what figure; but the latter, I am sure, was that ofthe guilty man. Something in the outline (and it was the outline only Icould catch) expressed an emotion incomprehensible to me at the moment, but which, in my remembrance, impresses me as that of fear and dread. Itwas not the entrance to the alcove I beheld--that would have struck meat once--but some other opening which I might recognize if I saw it. Cannot that opening be found, and may it not give a clue to the man I sawskulking through it with terror and remorse in his heart?"

"Was this figure, when you saw it, turned toward you or away?" theinspector inquired with unexpected interest. 

"Turned partly away. He was going from me. "

"And you sat--where?"

"Shall I show you?"

The inspector bowed, then with a low word of caution turned to my uncle. 

"I am going to take this young lady into the hall for a moment, at herown request. May I ask you and Mr. Durand to await me here?"

Without pausing for reply, he threw open the door and presently we werepacing the deserted supper-room, seeking the place where I had sat. I found it almost by a miracle, --everything being in great disorder. Guided by my bouquet, which I had left behind me in my escape from thetable, I laid hold of the chair before which it lay, and declared quiteconfidently to the inspector:

"This is where I sat. "

Naturally his glance and mine both flew to the opposite wall. A windowwas before us of an unusual size and make. Unlike any which had everbefore come under my observation, it swung on a pivot, and, though shutat the present moment, might very easily, when opened, present its hugepane at an angle capable of catching reflections from some of the manymirrors decorating the reception-room situated diagonally across thehall. As all the doorways on this lower floor were of unusual width, anopen path was offered, as it were, for these reflections to pass, makingit possible for scenes to be imaged here which, to the persons involved, would seem as safe from any one's scrutiny as if they were taking placein the adjoining house. 

As we realized this, a look passed between us of more than ordinarysignificance. Pointing to the window, the inspector turned to a group ofwaiters watching us from the other side of the room and asked if it hadbeen opened that evening. 

The answer came quickly. 

"Yes, sir, --just before the--the--"

"I understand, " broke in the inspector; and, leaning over me, hewhispered: "Tell me again exactly what you thought you saw. "

But I could add little to my former description. "Perhaps you can tellme this, " he kindly persisted. "Was the picture, when you saw it, on alevel with your eye, or did you have to lift your head in order to seeit?"

"It was high up, --in the air, as it were. That seemed its oddestfeature. "

The inspector's mouth took a satisfied curve. "Possibly I might identifythe door and passage, if I saw them, " I suggested. 

"Certainly, certainly, " was his cheerful rejoinder; and, summoning oneof his men, he was about to give some order, when his impulse changed, and he asked if I could draw. 

I assured him, in some surprise, that I was far from being an adeptin that direction, but that possibly I might manage a rough sketch;whereupon he pulled a pad and pencil from his pocket and requested meto make some sort of attempt to reproduce, on paper, my memory of thispassage and the door. 

My heart was beating violently, and the pencil shook in my hand, but Iknew that it would not do for me to show any hesitation in fixing forall eyes what, unaccountably to myself, continued to be perfectly plainto my own. So I endeavored to do as he bade me, and succeeded, to someextent, for he uttered a slight ejaculation at one of its features, and, while duly expressing his thanks, honored me with a very sharp look. 

"Is this your first visit to this house?" he asked. 

"No; I have been here before. "

"In the evening, or in the afternoon?"

"In the afternoon. "

"I am told that the main entrance is not in use to-night. "

"No. A side door is provided for occasions like the present. Guestsentering there find a special hall and staircase, by which they canreach the upstairs dressing-rooms, without crossing the main hall. Isthat what you mean?"

"Yes, that is what I mean. "

I stared at him in wonder. What lay back of such questions as these?

"You came in, as others did, by this side entrance, " he now proceeded. "Did you notice, as you turned to go up stairs, an arch opening into asmall passageway at your left?"

"I did not, " I began, flushing, for I thought I understood him now. "Iwas too eager to reach the dressing-room to look about me. "

"Very well, " he replied; "I may want to show you that arch. "

The outline of an arch, backing the figure we were endeavoring toidentify, was a marked feature in the sketch I had shown him. 

"Will you take a seat near by while I make a study of this matter?"

I turned with alacrity to obey. There was something in his air andmanner which made me almost buoyant. Had my fanciful interpretation ofwhat I had seen reached him with the conviction it had me? If so, therewas hope, --hope for the man I loved, who had gone in and out betweencurtains, and not through any arch such as he had mentioned or I haddescribed. Providence was working for me. I saw it in the way the mennow moved about, swinging the window to and fro, under the instructionof the inspector, manipulating the lights, opening doors and drawingback curtains. Providence was working for me, and when, a few minuteslater, I was asked to reseat myself in my old place at the supper-tableand take another look in that slightly deflected glass, I knew that myeffort had met with its reward, and that for the second time I wasto receive the impression of a place now indelibly imprinted on myconsciousness. 

"Is not that it?" asked the inspector, pointing at the glass with a lastlook at the imperfect sketch I had made him, and which he still held inhis hand. 

"Yes, " I eagerly responded. "All but the man. He whose figure I seethere is another person entirely; I see no remorse, or even fear, in hislooks. "

"Of course not. You are looking at the reflection of one of my men. MissVan Arsdale, do you recognize the place now under your eye?"

"I do not. You spoke of an arch in the hall, at the left of the carriageentrance, and I see an arch in the window-pane before me, but--"

"You are looking straight through the alcove, --perhaps you did notknow that another door opened at its back, --into the passage which runsbehind it. Farther on is the arch, and beyond that arch the side halland staircase leading to the dressing-rooms. This door, the one in therear of the alcove, I mean, is hidden from those entering from the mainhall by draperies which have been hung over it for this occasion, butit is quite visible from the back passageway, and there can be no doubtthat it was by its means the man, whose reflected image you saw, bothentered and left the alcove. It is an important fact to establish, andwe feel very much obliged to you for the aid you have given us in thismatter. "

Then, as I continued to stare at him in my elation and surprise, headded, in quick explanation:

"The lights in the alcove, and in the several parlors, are all hung withshades, as you must perceive, but the one in the hall, beyond the arch, is very bright, which accounts for the distinctness of this doublereflection. Another thing, --and it is a very interesting point, --itwould have been impossible for this reflection to be noticeablefrom where you sit, if the level of the alcove flooring had not beenconsiderably higher than that of the main floor. But for this freak ofthe architect, the continual passing to and fro of people would haveprevented the reflection in its passage from surface to surface. MissVan Arsdale, it would seem that by one of those chances which happenbut once or twice in a lifetime, every condition was propitious at themoment to make this reflection a possible occurrence, even the locationand width of the several doorways and the exact point at which theportiere was drawn aside from the entrance to the alcove. "

"It is wonderful, " I cried, "wonderful!" Then, to his astonishment, perhaps, I asked if there was not a small door of communication betweenthe passageway back of the alcove and the large central hall. 

"Yes, " he replied. "It opens just beyond the fireplace. Three smallsteps lead to it. "

"I thought so, " I murmured, but more to myself than to him. In my mind Iwas thinking how a man, if he so wished, could pass from the very heartof this assemblage into the quiet passageway, and so on into the alcove, without attracting very much attention from his fellow guests. I forgotthat there was another way of approach even less noticeable that bythe small staircase running up beyond the arch directly to thedressing-rooms. 

That no confusion may arise in any one's mind in regard to these curiousapproaches, I subjoin a plan of this portion of the lower floor as itafterward appeared in the leading dailies. 

"And Mr. Durand?" I stammered, as I followed the inspector back to theroom where we had left that gentleman. "You will believe his statementnow and look for this second intruder with the guiltily-hanging head andfrightened mien?"

"Yes, " he replied, stopping me on the threshold of the door and takingmy hand kindly in his, "if--(don't start, my dear; life is full oftrouble for young and old, and youth is the best time to face a sadexperience) if he is not himself the man you saw staring in frightenedhorror at his breast. Have you not noticed that he is not dressed inall respects like the other gentlemen present? That, though he has notdonned his overcoat, he has put on, somewhat prematurely, one might say, the large silk handkerchief lie presumably wears under it? Have you notnoticed this, and asked yourself why?"

I had noticed it. I had noticed it from the moment I recovered from myfainting fit, but I had not thought it a matter of sufficient interestto ask, even of myself, his reason for thus hiding his shirt-front. NowI could not. My faculties were too confused, my heart too deeply shakenby the suggestion which the inspector's words conveyed, for me to beconscious of anything but the devouring question as to what I should doif, by my own mistaken zeal, I had succeeded in plunging the man I lovedyet deeper into the toils in which he had become enmeshed. 

The inspector left me no time for the settlement of this question. Ushering me back into the room where Mr. Durand and my uncle awaitedour return in apparently unrelieved silence, he closed the door uponthe curious eyes of the various persons still lingering in the hall, andabruptly said to Mr. Durand:

"The explanations you have been pleased to give of the manner inwhich this diamond came into your possession are not too fanciful forcredence, if you can satisfy us on another point which has awakenedsome doubt in the mind of one of my men. Mr. Durand, you appear tohave prepared yourself for departure somewhat prematurely. Do you mindremoving that handkerchief for a moment? My reason for so peculiar arequest will presently appear. "

Alas, for my last fond hope! Mr. Durand, with a face as white as thebackground of snow framed by the uncurtained window against which heleaned, lifted his hand as if to comply with the inspector's request, then let it fall again with a grating laugh. 

"I see that I am not likely to escape any of the results of myimprudence, " he cried, and with a quick jerk bared his shirt-front. 

A splash of red defiled its otherwise uniform whiteness! That it was thered of heart's blood was proved by the shrinking look he unconsciouslycast at it. 

IV. EXPLANATIONS

My love for Anson Durand died at sight of that crimson splash or Ithought it did. In this spot of blood on the breast of him to whom I hadgiven my heart I could read but one word--guilt--heinous guilt, guiltdenied and now brought to light in language that could be seen and readby all men. Why should I stay in such a presence? Had not the inspectorhimself advised me to go?

Yes, but another voice bade me remain. Just as I reached the door, AnsonDurand found his voice and I heard, in the full, sweet tones I loved sowell:

"Wait I am not to be judged like this. I will explain!"

But here the inspector interposed. 

"Do you think it wise to make any such attempt without the advice ofcounsel, Mr. Durand?"

The indignation with which Mr. Durand wheeled toward him raised in me afaint hope. 

"Good God, yes!" he cried. "Would you have me leave Miss Van Arsdale oneminute longer than is necessary to such dreadful doubts? Rita--Miss VanArsdale--weakness, and weakness only, has brought me into my presentposition. I did not kill Mrs. Fairbrother, nor did I knowingly takeher diamond, though appearances look that way, as I am very ready toacknowledge. I did go to her in the alcove, not once, but twice, andthese are my reasons for doing so: About three months ago a certainwell-known man of enormous wealth came to me with the request that Ishould procure for him a diamond of superior beauty. He wished to giveit to his wife, and he wished it to outshine any which could now befound in New York. This meant sending abroad--an expense he was quitewilling to incur on the sole condition that the stone should notdisappoint him when he saw it, and that it was to be in his hands on theeighteenth of March, his wife's birthday. Never before had I had such anopportunity for a large stroke of business. Naturally elated, I enteredat once into correspondence with the best known dealers on the otherside, and last week a diamond was delivered to me which seemed to fillall the necessary requirements. I had never seen a finer stone, and wasconsequently rejoicing in my success, when some one, I do not rememberwho now, chanced to speak in my hearing of the wonderful stone possessedby a certain Mrs. Fairbrother--a stone so large, so brilliant and soprecious altogether that she seldom wore it, though it was known toconnoisseurs and had a great reputation at Tiffany's, where it had oncebeen sent for some alteration in the setting. Was this stone larger andfiner than the one I had procured with so much trouble? If so, my laborhad all been in vain, for my patron must have known of this diamond andwould expect to see it surpassed. 

"I was so upset by this possibility that I resolved to see the jewel andmake comparisons for myself. I found a friend who agreed to introduceme to the lady. She received me very graciously and was amiable enoughuntil the subject of diamonds was broached, when she immediatelystiffened and left me without an opportunity of proffering my request. However, on every other subject she was affable, and I found it easyenough to pursue the acquaintance till we were almost on friendly terms. But I never saw the diamond, nor would she talk about it, though Icaused her some surprise when one day I drew out before her eyes the oneI had procured for my patron and made her look at it. 'Fine, ' she cried, 'fine!' But I failed to detect any envy in her manner, and so knew thatI had not achieved the object set me by my wealthy customer. This was awoeful disappointment; yet, as Mrs. Fairbrother never wore her diamond, it was among the possibilities that he might be satisfied with the veryfine gem I had obtained for him, and, influenced by this hope, I senthim this morning a request to come and see it tomorrow. Tonight Iattended this ball, and almost as soon as I enter the drawing-room Ihear that Mrs. Fairbrother is present and is wearing her famous jewel. What could you expect of me? Why, that I would make an effort to see itand so be ready with a reply to my exacting customer when he should askme to-morrow if the stone I showed him had its peer in the city. Butwas not in the drawing-room then, and later I became interestedelsewhere"--here he cast a look at me--"so that half the evening passedbefore I had an opportunity to join her in the so-called alcove, whereI had seen her set up her miniature court. What passed between us in theshort interview we held together you will find me prepared to state, ifnecessary. It was chiefly marked by the one short view I succeeded inobtaining of her marvelous diamond, in spite of the pains she took tohide it from me by some natural movement whenever she caught my eyesleaving her face. But in that one short look I had seen enough. This wasa gem for a collector, not to be worn save in a royal presence. How hadshe come by it? And could Mr. Smythe expect me to procure him a stonelike that? In my confusion I arose to depart, but the lady showeda disposition to keep me, and began chatting so vivaciously that Iscarcely noticed that she was all the time engaged in drawing offher gloves. Indeed, I almost forgot the jewel, possibly because hermovements hid it so completely, and only remembered it when, with asudden turn from the window where she had drawn me to watch the fallingflakes, she pressed the gloves into my hand with the coquettish requestthat I should take care of them for her. I remember, as I took them, of striving to catch another glimpse of the stone, whose brilliancyhad dazzled me, but she had opened her fan between us. A moment after, thinking I heard approaching steps, I quitted the room. This was myfirst visit. "

As he stopped, possibly for breath, possibly to judge to what extent Iwas impressed by his account, the inspector seized the opportunity toask if Mrs. Fairbrother had been standing any of this time with her backto him. To which he answered yes, while they were in the window. 

"Long enough for her to pluck off the jewel and thrust it into thegloves, if she had so wished?"

"Quite long enough. "

"But you did not see her do this?"

"I did not. "

"And so took the gloves without suspicion?"

"Entirely so. "

"And carried them away?"

"Unfortunately, yes. "

"Without thinking that she might want them the next minute?"

"I doubt if I was thinking seriously of her at all. My thoughts were onmy own disappointment. "

"Did you carry these gloves out in your hand?"

"No, in my pocket. "

"I see. And you met--"

"No one. The sound I heard must have come from the rear hall. "

"And there was nobody on the steps?"

"No. A gentleman was standing at their foot--Mr. Grey, theEnglishman--but his face was turned another way, and he looked as if hehad been in that same position for several minutes. "

"Did this gentleman--Mr. Grey--see you?"

"I can not say, but I doubt it. He appeared to be in a sort of dream. There were other people about, but nobody with whom I was acquainted. "

"Very good. Now for the second visit you acknowledge having paid thisunfortunate lady. "

The inspector's voice was hard. I clung a little more tightly to myuncle, and Mr. Durand, after one agonizing glance my way, drew himselfup as if quite conscious that he had entered upon the most serious partof the struggle. 

"I had forgotten the gloves in my hurried departure; but presently Iremembered them, and grew very uneasy. I did not like carrying thiswoman's property about with me. I had engaged myself, an hour before, toMiss Van Arsdale, and was very anxious to rejoin her. The gloves worriedme, and finally, after a little aimless wandering through the variousrooms, I determined to go back and restore them to their owner. Thedoors of the supper-room had just been flung open, and the end ofthe hall near the alcove was comparatively empty, save for a certainquizzical friend of mine, whom I saw sitting with his partner on theyellow divan. I did not want to encounter him just then, for he hadalready joked me about my admiration for the lady with the diamond, andso I conceived the idea of approaching her by means of a second entranceto the alcove, unsuspected by most of those present, but perfectlywell-known to me, who have been a frequent guest in this house. A door, covered by temporary draperies, connects, as you may know, this alcovewith a passageway communicating directly with the hall of entrance andthe up-stairs dressing-rooms. To go up the main stairs and come downby the side one, and so on, through a small archway, was a very simplematter for me. If no early-departing or late arriving guests were inthat hall, I need fear but one encounter, and that was with the servantstationed at the carriage entrance. But even he was absent at thispropitious instant, and I reached the door I sought without anyunpleasantness. This door opened out instead of in, --this I also knewwhen planning this surreptitious intrusion, but, after pulling it openand reaching for the curtain, which hung completely across it, I foundit not so easy to proceed as I had imagined. The stealthiness of myaction held back my hand; then the faint sounds I heard within advisedme that she was not alone, and that she might very readily regard withdispleasure my unexpected entrance by a door of which she was possiblyignorant. I tell you all this because, if by any chance I was seenhesitating in face of that curtain, doubts might have been raised whichI am anxious to dispel. " Here his eyes left my face for that of theinspector. 

"It certainly had a bad look, --that I don't deny; but I did not thinkof appearances then. I was too anxious to complete a task which hadsuddenly presented unexpected difficulties. That I listened beforeentering was very natural, and when I heard no voice, only somethinglike a great sigh, I ventured to lift the curtain and step in. She wassitting, not where I had left her, but on a couch at the left of theusual entrance, her face toward me, and--you know how, Inspector. It washer last sigh I had heard. Horrified, for I had never looked on deathbefore, much less crime, I reeled forward, meaning, I presume, torush down the steps shouting for help, when, suddenly, something fellsplashing on my shirt-front, and I saw myself marked with a stain ofblood. This both frightened and bewildered me, and it was a minute ortwo before I had the courage to look up. When I did do so, I saw whencethis drop had come. Not from her, though the red stream was pouring downthe rich folds of her dress, but from a sharp needle-like instrumentwhich had been thrust, point downward, in the open work of an antiquelantern hanging near the doorway. What had happened to me might havehappened to any one who chanced to be in that spot at that specialmoment, but I did not realize this then. Covering the splash with myhands, I edged myself back to the door by which I had entered, watchingthose deathful eyes and crushing under my feet the remnants of somebroken china with which the carpet was bestrewn. I had no thought ofher, hardly any of myself. To cross the room was all; to escape assecretly as I came, before the portiere so nearly drawn between meand the main hall should stir under the hand of some curious personentering. It was my first sight of blood; my first contact with crime, and that was what I did, --I fled. "

The last word was uttered with a gasp. Evidently he was greatly affectedby this horrible experience. 

"I am ashamed of myself, " he muttered, "but nothing can now undo thefact. I slid from the presence of this murdered woman as though she hadbeen the victim of my own rage or cupidity; and, being fortunate enoughto reach the dressing-room before the alarm had spread beyond theimmediate vicinity of the alcove, found and put on the handkerchief, which made it possible for me to rush down and find Miss Van Arsdale, who, somebody told me, had fainted. Not till I stood over her in thatremote corner beyond the supper-room did I again think of the gloves. What I did when I happened to think of them, you already know. I couldhave shown no greater cowardice if I had known that the murdered woman'sdiamond was hidden inside them. Yet, I did not know this, or evensuspect it. Nor do I understand, now, her reason for placing it there. Why should Mrs. Fairbrother risk such an invaluable gem to the custodyof one she knew so little? An unconscious custody, too? Was she afraidof being murdered if she retained this jewel?"

The inspector thought a moment, and then said:

"You mention your dread of some one entering by the one door before youcould escape by the other. Do you refer to the friend you left sittingon the divan opposite?"

"No, my friend had left that seat. The portiere was sufficiently drawnfor me to detect that. If I had waited a minute longer, " he bitterlyadded, "I should have found my way open to the regular entrance, and soescaped all this. "

"Mr. Durand, you are not obliged to answer any of my questions; but, ifyou wish, you may tell me whether, at this moment of apprehension, youthought of the danger you ran of being seen from outside by some one ofthe many coachmen passing by on the driveway?"

"No, --I did not even think of the window, --I don't know why; but, ifany one passing by did see me, I hope they saw enough to substantiate mystory. "

The inspector made no reply. He seemed to be thinking. I heard afterwardthat the curtains, looped back in the early evening, had been foundhanging at full length over this window by those who first rushed inupon the scene of death. Had he hoped to entrap Mr. Durand into somedamaging admission? Or was he merely testing his truth? His expressionafforded no clue to his thoughts, and Mr. Durand, noting this, remarkedwith some dignity:

"I do not expect strangers to accept these explanations, which mustsound strange and inadequate in face of the proof I carry of having beenwith that woman after the fatal weapon struck her heart. But, to one whoknows me, and knows me well, I can surely appeal for credence to a talewhich I here declare to be as true as if I had sworn to it in a court ofjustice. "

"Anson!" I passionately cried out, loosening my clutch upon my uncle'sarm. My confidence in him had returned. 

And then, as I noted the inspector's businesslike air, and my uncle'swavering look and unconvinced manner, I felt my heart swell, and, flinging all discretion to the wind, I bounded eagerly forward. Layingmy hands in those of Mr. Durand, I cried fervently:

"I believe in you. Nothing but your own words shall ever shake myconfidence in your innocence. "

The sweet, glad look I received was my best reply. I could leave theroom, after that. 

But not the house. Another experience awaited me, awaited us all, beforethis full, eventful evening came to a close. 

V. SUPERSTITION

I had gone up stairs for my wraps--my uncle having insisted on mywithdrawing from a scene where my very presence seemed in some degree tocompromise me. 

Soon prepared for my departure, I was crossing the hall to the smalldoor communicating with the side staircase where my uncle had promisedto await me, when I felt myself seized by a desire to have another lookbelow before leaving the place in which were centered all my deepestinterests. 

A wide landing, breaking up the main flight of stairs some few feet fromthe top, offered me an admirable point of view. With but little thoughtof possible consequences, and no thought at all of my poor, patientuncle, I slipped down to this landing, and, protected by the unusualheight of its balustrade, allowed myself a parting glance at the scenewith which my most poignant memories were henceforth to be connected. 

Before me lay the large square of the central hall. Opening out fromthis was the corridor leading to the front door, and incidentally to thelibrary. As my glance ran down this corridor, I beheld, approaching fromthe room just mentioned, the tall figure of the Englishman. 

He halted as he reached the main hall and stood gazing eagerly at agroup of men and women clustered near the fireplace--a group on which Ino sooner cast my own eye than my attention also became fixed. 

The inspector had come from the room where I had left him with Mr. Durand and was showing to these people the extraordinary diamond, which he had just recovered under such remarkable if not suspiciouscircumstances. Young heads and old were meeting over it, and I wasstraining my ears to hear such comments as were audible above thegeneral hubbub, when Mr. Grey made a quick move and I looked his wayagain in time to mark his air of concern and the uncertainty he showedwhether to advance or retreat. 

Unconscious of my watchful eye, and noting, no doubt, that most of thepersons in the group on which his own eye was leveled stood with theirbacks toward him, he made no effort to disguise his profound interestin the stone. His eye followed its passage from hand to hand with acovetous eagerness of which he may not have been aware, and I was notat all surprised when, after a short interval of troubled indecision, heimpulsively stepped forward and begged the privilege of handling the gemhimself. 

Our host, who stood not far from the inspector, said something to thatgentleman which led to this request being complied with. The stone waspassed over to Mr. Grey, and I saw, possibly because my heart was in myeyes, that the great man's hand trembled as it touched his palm. Indeed, his whole frame trembled, and I was looking eagerly for the result ofhis inspection when, on his turning to hold the jewel up to the light, something happened so abnormal and so strange that no one who wasfortunate (or unfortunate) enough to be present in the house at thatinstant will ever forget it. 

This something was a cry, coming from no one knew where, which, unearthly in its shrillness and the power it had on the imagination, reverberated through the house and died away in a wail so weird, sothrilling and so prolonged that it gripped not only my own nerveless andweakened heart, but those of the ten strong men congregated below me. The diamond dropped from Mr. Grey's hand, and neither he nor any oneelse moved to pick it up. Not till silence had come again--a silencealmost as unendurable to the sensitive ear as the cry which had precededit--did any one stir or think of the gem. Then one gentleman afteranother bent to look for it, but with no success, till one of thewaiters, who possibly had followed it with his eye or caught sight ofits sparkle on the edge of the rug, whither it had rolled, sprang andpicked it up and handed it back to Mr. Grey. 

Instinctively the Englishman's hand closed on it, but it was veryevident to me, and I think to all, that his interest in it was gone. Ifhe looked at it he did not see it, for he stood like one stunned allthe time that agitated men and women were running hither and thither inunavailing efforts to locate the sound yet ringing in their ears. Nottill these various searchers had all come together again, in terror of amystery they could not solve, did he let his hand fall and himself awaketo the scene about him. 

The words he at once gave utterance to were as remarkable as all therest. 

"Gentlemen, " said he, "you must pardon my agitation. This cry--you neednot seek its source--is one to which I am only too well accustomed. Ihave been the happy father of six children. Five I have buried, and, before the death of each, this same cry has echoed in my ears. I havebut one child left, a daughter, --she is ill at the hotel. Do you wonderthat I shrink from this note of warning, and show myself something lessthan a man under its influence? I am going home; but, first, one wordabout this stone. " Here he lifted it and bestowed, or appeared to bestowon it, an anxious scrutiny, putting on his glasses and examining itcarefully before passing it back to the inspector. 

"I have heard, " said he, with a change of tone which must have beennoticeable to every one, "that this stone was a very superior one, andquite worthy of the fame it bore here in America. But, gentlemen, you have all been greatly deceived in it; no one more than he who waswilling to commit murder for its possession. The stone, which you havejust been good enough to allow me to inspect, is no diamond, but acarefully manufactured bit of paste not worth the rich and elaboratesetting which has been given to it. I am sorry to be the one to saythis, but I have made a study of precious stones, and I can not letthis bare-faced imitation pass through my hands without a protest. Mr. Ramsdell, " this to our host, "I beg you will allow me to utter myexcuses, and depart at once. My daughter is worse, --this I know, ascertainly as that I am standing here. The cry you have heard is the onesuperstition of our family. Pray God that I find her alive!"

After this, what could be said? Though no one who had heard him, noteven my own romantic self, showed any belief in this interpretation ofthe remarkable sound that had just gone thrilling through the house, yet, in face of his declared acceptance of it as a warning, and the factthat all efforts had failed to locate the sound, or even to determineits source, no other course seemed open but to let this distinguishedman depart with the suddenness his superstitious fears demanded. 

That this was in opposition to the inspector's wishes was evidentenough. Naturally, he would have preferred Mr. Grey to remain, if onlyto make clear his surprising conclusions in regard to a diamond whichhad passed through the hands of some of the best judges in the country, without a doubt having been raised as to its genuineness. 

With his departure the inspector's manner changed. He glanced at thestone in his hand, and slowly shook his head. 

"I doubt if Mr. Grey's judgment can be depended on, to-night, " said he, and pocketed the gem as carefully as if his belief in its real value hadbeen but little disturbed by the assertions of this renowned foreigner. 

I have no distinct remembrance of how I finally left the house, or ofwhat passed between my uncle and myself on our way home. I was numb withthe shock, and neither my intelligence nor my feelings were any longeractive. I recall but one impression, and that was the effect made on meby my old home on our arrival there, as of something new and strange;so much had happened, and such changes had taken place in myselfsince leaving it five hours before. But nothing else is vivid in myremembrance till that early hour of the dreary morning, when, on wakingto the world with a cry, I beheld my uncle's anxious figure, bendingover me from the foot-board. 

Instantly I found tongue, and question after question leaped from mylips. He did not answer them; he could not; but when I grew feverish andinsistent, he drew the morning paper from behind his back, and laid itquietly down within my reach. I felt calmed in an instant, and when, after a few affectionate words, he left me to myself, I seized onthe sheet and read what so many others were reading at that momentthroughout the city. 

I spare you the account so far as it coincides with what I had myselfseen and heard the night before. A few particulars which had not reachedmy ears will interest you. The instrument of death found in the placedesignated by Mr. Durand was one of note to such as had any taste orknowledge of curios. It was a stiletto of the most delicate type, long, keen and slender. Not an American product, not even of this century'smanufacture, but a relic of the days when deadly thrusts were given inthe corners and by-ways of medieval streets. 

This made the first mystery. 

The second was the as yet unexplainable presence, on the alcove floor, of two broken coffee-cups, which no waiter nor any other person, infact, admitted having carried there. The tray, which had fallen fromPeter Mooney's hand, --the waiter who had been the first to give thealarm of murder, --had held no cups, only ices. This was a fact, proved. But the handles of two cups had been found among the debris, --cups whichmust have been full, from the size of the coffee stain left on the rugwhere they had fallen. 

In reading this I remembered that Mr. Durand had mentioned stepping onsome broken pieces of china in his escape from the fatal scene, and, struck with this confirmation of a theory which was slowly taking formin my own mind, I passed on to the next paragraph, with a sense ofexpectation. 

The result was a surprise. Others may have been told, I was not, thatMrs. Fairbrother had received a communication from outside only a fewminutes previous to her death. A Mr. Fullerton, who had preceded Mr. Durand in his visit to the alcove, owned to having opened the window forher at some call or signal from outside, and taken in a small piece ofpaper which he saw lifted up from below on the end of a whip handle. Hecould not see who held the whip, but at Mrs. Fairbrother's entreaty heunpinned the note and gave it to her. While she was puzzling over it, for it was apparently far from legible, he took another look out in timeto mark a figure rush from below toward the carriage drive. He did notrecognize the figure nor would he know it again. As to the nature of thecommunication itself he could say nothing, save that Mrs. Fairbrotherdid not seem to be affected favorably by it. She frowned and was lookingvery gloomy when he left the alcove. Asked if he had pulled the curtainstogether after closing the window, he said that he had not; that she hadnot requested him to do so. 

This story, which was certainly a strange one, had been confirmed by thetestimony of the coachman who had lent his whip for the purpose. Thiscoachman, who was known to be a man of extreme good nature, had seen noharm in lending his whip to a poor devil who wished to give a telegramor some such hasty message to the lady sitting just above them in alighted window. The wind was fierce and the snow blinding, and itwas natural that the man should duck his head, but he remembered hisappearance well enough to say that he was either very cold or very muchdone up and that he wore a greatcoat with the collar pulled up about hisears. When he came back with the whip he seemed more cheerful than whenhe asked for it, but had no "thank you" for the favor done him, or if hehad, it was lost in his throat and the piercing gale. 

The communication, which was regarded by the police as a matter of thehighest importance, had been found in her hand by the coroner. It was amere scrawl written in pencil on a small scrap of paper. The followingfacsimile of the scrawl was given to the public in the hope that someone would recognize the handwriting. 

The first two lines overlapped and were confused, but the last onewas clear enough. Expect trouble if--If what? Hundreds were asking thequestion and at this very moment. I should soon be asking it, too, butfirst, I must make an effort to understand the situation, --a situationwhich up to now appeared to involve Mr. Durand, and Mr. Durand only, asthe suspected party. 

This was no more than I expected, yet it came with a shock under thebroad glare of this wintry morning; so impossible did it seem in thelight of every-day life that guilt could be associated in any one's mindwith a man of such unblemished record and excellent standing. But theevidence adduced against him was of a kind to appeal to the commonmind--we all know that evidence--nor could I say, after reading the fullaccount, that I was myself unaffected by its seeming weight. Not that myfaith in his innocence was shaken. I had met his look of love and tendergratitude and my confidence in him had been restored, but I saw, withall the clearness of a mind trained by continuous study, how difficultit was going to be to counteract the prejudice induced, first, by hisown inconsiderate acts, especially by that unfortunate attempt of his tosecrete Mrs. Fairbrother's gloves in another woman's bag, and secondly, by his peculiar explanations--explanations which to many must seemforced and unnatural. 

I saw and felt nerved to a superhuman task. I believed him innocent, and if others failed to prove him so, I would undertake to clear himmyself, --I, the little Rita, with no experience of law or courts orcrime, but with simply an unbounded faith in the man suspected and inthe keenness of my own insight, --an insight which had already served meso well and would serve me yet better, once I had mastered the detailswhich must be the prelude to all intelligent action. 

The morning's report stopped with the explanations given by Mr. Durandof the appearances against him. Consequently no word appeared of theafter events which had made such an impression at the time on allthe persons present. Mr. Grey was mentioned, but simply as one of theguests, and to no one reading this early morning issue would any doubtcome as to the genuineness of the diamond which, to all appearance, hadbeen the leading motive in the commission of this great crime. 

The effect on my own mind of this suppression was a curious one. I beganto wonder if the whole event had not been a chimera of my disturbedbrain--a nightmare which had visited me, and me alone, and not a fact tobe reckoned with. But a moment's further thought served to clear my mindof all such doubts, and I perceived that the police had only exercisedcommon prudence in withholding Mr. Grey's sensational opinion of thestone till it could be verified by experts. 

The two columns of gossip devoted to the family differences which hadled to the separation of Mr. And Mrs. Fairbrother, I shall compress intoa few lines. They had been married three years before in the city ofBaltimore. He was a rich man then, but not the multimillionaire he isto-day. Plain-featured and without manner, lie was no mate for thissparkling coquette, whose charm was of the kind which grows withexercise. Though no actual scandal was ever associated with her name, hegrew tired of her caprices, and the conquests which she made no endeavorto hide either from him or from the world at large; and at some timeduring the previous year they had come to a friendly understandingwhich led to their living apart, each in grand style and with a certaindeference to the proprieties which retained them their friends and anenviable place in society. He was not often invited where she was, andshe never appeared in any assemblage where he was expected; but withthis exception, little feeling was shown; matters progressed smoothly, and to their credit, let it be said, no one ever heard either of themspeak otherwise than considerately of the other. He was at present outor town, having started some three weeks before for the southwest, butwould probably return on receipt of the telegram which had been senthim. 

The comments made on the murder were necessarily hurried. It was calleda mystery, but it was evident enough that Mr. Durand's detention waslooked on as the almost certain prelude to his arrest on the charge ofmurder. 

I had had some discipline in life. Although a favorite of my wealthyuncle, I had given up very early the prospects he held out to me of acontinued enjoyment of his bounty, and entered on duties which requiredself-denial and hard work. I did this because I enjoy having both mymind and heart occupied. To be necessary to some one, as a nurse is toa patient, seemed to me an enviable fate till I came under the influenceof Anson Durand. Then the craving of all women for the common lot oftheir sex became my craving also; a craving, however, to which I failedat first to yield, for I felt that it was unshared, and thus a token ofweakness. Fighting my battle, I succeeded in winning it, as I thought, just as the nurse's diploma was put in my hands. Then came the greatsurprise of my life. Anson Durand expressed his love for me and I awoketo the fact that all my preparation had been for home joys and a woman'strue existence. One hour of ecstasy in the light of this new hope, thentragedy and something approaching chaos! Truly I had been through aschooling. But was it one to make me useful in the only way I couldbe useful now? I did not know; I did not care; I was determined on mycourse, fit or unfit, and, in the relief brought by this appeal to myenergy, I rose and dressed and went about the duties of the day. 

One of these was to determine whether Mr. Grey, on his return to hishotel, had found his daughter as ill as his fears had foreboded. Atelephone message or two satisfied me on this point. Miss Grey wasvery ill, but not considered dangerously so; indeed, if anything, hercondition was improved, and if nothing happened in the way of freshcomplications, the prospects were that she would be out in a fortnight. 

I was not surprised. It was more than I had expected. The cry of thebanshee in an American house was past belief, even in an atmospheresurcharged with fear and all the horror surrounding a great crime; andin the secret reckoning I was making against a person I will not evenname at this juncture, I added it as another suspicious circumstance. 

VI. SUSPENSE

To relate the full experiences of the next few days would be to encumbermy narrative with unnecessary detail. 

I did not see Mr. Durand again. My uncle, so amenable in most matters, proved Inexorable on this point. Till Mr. Durand's good name should berestored by the coroner's verdict, or such evidence brought to lightas should effectually place him beyond all suspicion, I was to hold nocommunication with him of any sort whatever. I remember the very wordswith which my uncle ended the one exhaustive conversation we had on thesubject. They were these:

"You have fully expressed to Mr. Durand your entire confidence In hisInnocence. That must suffice him for the present. If he Is the honestgentleman you think him, It will. "

As uncle seldom asserted himself, and as he is very much in earnest whenhe does, I made no attempt to combat this resolution, especially as itmet the approval of my better judgment. But though my power to conveysympathy fell thus under a yoke, my thoughts and feelings remainedfree, and these were all consecrated to the man struggling under animputation, the disgrace and humiliation of which he was but poorlyprepared, by his former easy life of social and business prosperity, tomeet. 

For Mr. Durand, in spite of the few facts which came up from time totime in confirmation of his story, continued to be almost universallyregarded as a suspect. 

This seemed to me very unjust. What if no other clue offered--no otherclue, I mean, recognized as such by police or public! Was he not tohave the benefit of whatever threw a doubt on his own culpability? Forinstance, that splash of blood on his shirt-front, which I had seen, andthe shape of which I knew! Why did not the fact that it was a splashand not a spatter (and spatter it would have been had it spurted there, instead of falling from above, as he stated), count for more in theminds of those whose business it was to probe into the very heart ofthis crime? To me, it told such a tale of innocence that I wondered howa man like the inspector could pass over it. But later I understood. Asingle word enlightened me. The stain, it was true, was In the form ofa splash and not a spurt, but a splash would have been the result of adrop falling from the reeking end of the stiletto, whether it dislodgeditself early or late. And what was there to prove that this drop had notfallen at the instant the stiletto was being thrust Into the lantern, instead of after the escape of the criminal, and the entrance of anotherman?

But the mystery of the broken coffee-cups! For that no explanationseemed to be forthcoming. 

And the still unsolved one of the written warning found in the murderedwoman's hand--a warning which had been deciphered to read: "Be warned! Hemeans to be at the ball! Expect trouble if--" Was that to be looked uponas directed against a man who, from the nature of his projected attempt, would take no one into his confidence?

Then the stiletto--a photographic reproduction of which was in all thepapers--was that the kind of instrument which a plain New York gentlemanwould be likely to use In a crime of this nature? It was a marked andunique article, capable, as one would think, of being easily traced toits owner. Had it been claimed by Mr. Ramsdell, had it been recognizedas one of the many works of art scattered about the highly-decoratedalcove, its employment as a means of death would have gone only to provethe possibly unpremeditated nature of the crime, and so been valuelessas the basis of an argument in favor of Mr. Durand's innocence. But Mr. Ramsdell had disclaimed from the first all knowledge of it, consequentlyone could but feel justified in asking whether a man of Mr. Durand'sjudgment would choose such an extraordinary weapon in meditating sostartling a crime which from its nature and circumstance could not failto attract the attention of the whole civilized world. 

Another argument, advanced by himself and subscribed to by all hisfriends, was this: That a dealer in precious stones would be the lastman to seek by any unlawful means to possess so conspicuous a jewel. Forhe, better than any one else, would know the impossibility of disposingof a gem of this distinction in any market short of the Orient. To whichthe unanswerable reply was made that no one attributed to him any suchfolly; that if he had planned to possess himself of this great diamond, it was for the purpose of eliminating it from competition with the onehe had procured for Mr. Smythe; an argument, certainly, which drove usback on the only plea we had at our command--his hitherto unblemishedreputation and the confidence which was felt In him by those who knewhim. 

But the one circumstance which affected me most at the time, and whichundoubtedly was the source of the greatest confusion to all minds, whether official or otherwise, was the unexpected confirmation byexperts of Mr. Grey's opinion in regard to the diamond. His name wasnot used, indeed it had been kept out of the papers with the greatestunanimity, but the hint he had given the inspector at Mr. Ramsdell'sball had been acted upon and, the proper tests having been made, thestone, for which so many believed a life to have been risked and anothertaken, was declared to be an imitation, fine and successful beyond allparallel, but still an imitation, of the great and renowned gem whichhad passed through Tiffany's hands a twelve-month before: a decisionwhich fell like a thunderbolt on all such as had seen the diamondblazing in unapproachable brilliancy on the breast of the unhappy Mrs. Fairbrother only an hour or two before her death. 

On me the effect was such that for days I lived in a dream, a conditionthat, nevertheless, did not prevent me from starting a certain littleinquiry of my own, of which more hereafter. 

Here let me say that I did not share the general confusion on thistopic. I had my own theory, both as to the cause of this substitutionand the moment when it was made. But the time had not yet come for me toadvance it. I could only stand back and listen to the suppositions airedby the press, suppositions which fomented so much private discussionthat ere long the one question most frequently heard in this connectionwas not who struck the blow which killed Mrs. Fairbrother (this was aquestion which some seemed to think settled), but whose juggling handhad palmed off the paste for the diamond, and how and when and where hadthe jugglery taken place?

Opinions on this point were, as I have said, many and various. Somefixed upon the moment of exchange as that very critical and hardlyappreciable one elapsing between the murder and Mr. Durand's appearanceupon the scene. This theory, I need not say, was advanced by such asbelieved that while he was not guilty of Mrs. Fairbrother's murder, liehad been guilty of taking advantage of the same to rob the body of what, in the terror and excitement of the moment, he evidently took to be hergreat gem. To others, among whom were many eyewitnesses of the event, it appeared to be a conceded fact that this substitution had been madeprior to the ball and with Mrs. Fairbrother's full cognizance. Theeffectual way in which she had wielded her fan between the glitteringornament on her breast and the inquisitive glances constantly leveledupon it might at the time have been due to coquetry, but to them itlooked much more like an expression of fear lest the deception in whichshe was indulging should be discovered. No one fixed the time where Idid; but then, no one but myself had watched the scene with the eyes oflove; besides, and this must be remembered, most people, among whomI ventured to count the police officials, were mainly interested inproving Mr. Durand guilty, while I, with contrary mind, was bent onestablishing such facts as confirmed the explanations he had beenpleased to give us, explanations which necessitated a conviction, onMrs. Fairbrother's part, of the great value of the jewel she wore, andthe consequent advisability of ridding herself of it temporarily, if, as so many believed, the full letter of the warning should read: "Bewarned, he means to be at the ball. Expect trouble if you are foundwearing the great diamond. "

True, she may herself have been deceived concerning it. Unconsciously toherself, she may have been the victim of a daring fraud on the part ofsome hanger-on who had access to her jewels, but, as no such evidencehad yet come to life, as she had no recognized, or, so far as could belearned, secret lover or dishonest dependent; and, moreover, as no gemof such unusual value was known to have been offered within the year, here or abroad, in public or private market, I could not bring myself tocredit this assumption; possibly because I was so ignorant as to creditanother, and a different one, --one which you have already seen growing inmy mind, and which, presumptuous as it was, kept my courage from failingthrough all those dreadful days of enforced waiting and suspense. For Iwas determined not to intrude my suggestions, valuable as I consideredthem, till all hope was gone of his being righted by the judgmentof those who would not lightly endure the interference of such aninsignificant mote in the great scheme of justice as myself. 

The inquest, which might be trusted to bring out all these doubtfulpoints, had been delayed in anticipation of Mr. Fairbrother's return. His testimony could not but prove valuable, if not in fixing thecriminal, at least in settling the moot point as to whether the stone, which the estranged wife had carried away with her on leaving thehouse, had been the genuine one returned to him from Tiffany's or thewell-known imitation now in the hands of the police. He had been locatedsomewhere in the mountains of lower Colorado, but, strange to say, Ithad been found impossible to enter into direct communication with him;nor was it known whether he was aware as yet of his wife's tragic death. So affairs went slowly in New York and the case seemed to come to astandstill, when public opinion was suddenly reawakened and a moredefinite turn given to the whole matter by a despatch from Santa Feto the Associated Press. This despatch was to the effect that AbnerFairbrother had passed through that city some three days before on hisway to his new mining camp, the Placide; that he then showed symptoms ofpneumonia, and from advices since received might be regarded as a verysick man. 

Ill, --well, that explained matters. His silence, which many had takenfor indifference, was that of a man physically disabled and unfit forexertion of any kind. Ill, --a tragic circumstance which roused endlessconjecture. Was he aware, or was he not aware, of his wife's death? Hadhe been taken ill before or after he left Colorado for New Mexico? Washe suffering mainly from shock, or, as would appear from his complaint, from a too rapid change of climate?

The whole country seethed with excitement, and my poor littleunthought-of, insignificant self burned with impatience, which onlythose who have been subjected to a like suspense can properly estimate. Would the proceedings which were awaited with so much anxiety be furtherdelayed? Would Mr. Durand remain indefinitely in durance and under sucha cloud of disgrace as would kill some men and might kill him? Should Ibe called upon to endure still longer the suffering which this entailedupon me, when I thought I knew?

But fortune was less obdurate than I feared. Next morning a telegraphicstatement from Santa Fe settled one of the points of this great dispute, a statement which you will find detailed at more length in the followingcommunication, which appeared a few days later in one of our mostenterprising journals. 

It was from a resident correspondent in New Mexico, and was written, asthe editor was careful to say, for his own eyes and not for the public. He had ventured, however, to give It in full, knowing the great interestwhich this whole subject had for his readers. 

VII. NIGHT AND A VOICE

Not to be outdone by the editor, I insert the article here with all itsdetails, the importance of which I trust I have anticipated. 

SANTA FE, N. M. , April--. 

Arrived in Santa Fe, I inquired where Abner Fairbrother could be found. I was told that he was at his mine, sick. 

Upon inquiring as to the location of the Placide, I was informed that itwas fifteen miles or so distant in the mountains, and upon my expressingan intention of going there immediately, I was given what I thought veryunnecessary advice and then directed to a certain livery stable, whereI was told I could get the right kind of a horse and such equipment as Istood in need of. 

I thought I was equipped all right as it was, but I said nothing andwent on to the livery stable. Here I was shown a horse which I took toat once and was about to mount, when a pair of leggings was brought tome. 

"You will need these for your journey, " said the man. 

"Journey!" I repeated. "Fifteen miles!"

The livery stable keeper--a half-breed with a peculiarly pleasantsmile--cocked up his shoulders with the remark:

"Three men as willing but as inexperienced as yourself have attemptedthe same journey during the last week and they all came back before theyreached the divide. You will probably come back, too; but I shall giveyou as fair a start as if I knew you were going straight through. "

"But a woman has done it, " said I; "a nurse from the hospital went upthat very road last week. "

"Oh, women! they can do anything--women who are nurses. But they don'tstart off alone. You are going alone. "

"Yes, " I remarked grimly. "Newspaper correspondents make their journeyssingly when they can. "

"Oh! you are a newspaper correspondent! Why do so many men from thepapers want to see that sick old man? Because he's so rich?"

"Don't you know?" I asked. 

He did not seem to. 

I wondered at his ignorance but did not enlighten him. 

"Follow the trail and ask your way from time to time. All the goatherdsknow where the Placide mine is. "

Such were his simple instructions as he headed my horse toward thecanyon. But as I drew off, he shouted out:

"If you get stuck, leave it to the horse. He knows more about it thanyou do. "

With a vague gesture toward the northwest, he turned away, leaving mein contemplation of the grandest scenery I had yet come upon in all mytravels. 

Fifteen miles! but those miles lay through the very heart of themountains, ranging anywhere from six to seven thousand feet high. In tenminutes the city and all signs of city life were out of sight. In fivemore I was seemingly as far removed from all civilization as if I hadgone a hundred miles into the wilderness. 

As my horse settled down to work, picking his way, now here and nowthere, sometimes over the brown earth, hard and baked as in a thousandfurnaces, and sometimes over the stunted grass whose needle-like stalksseemed never to have known moisture, I let my eyes roam to such peaks aswere not cut off from view by the nearer hillsides, and wondered whetherthe snow which capped them was whiter than any other or the blue of thesky bluer, that the two together had the effect upon me of cameo work ona huge and unapproachable scale. 

Certainly the effect of these grand mountains, into which you leapwithout any preparation from the streets and market-places of America'soldest city, is such as is not easily described. 

We struck water now and then, --narrow water--courses which my horsefollowed in mid stream, and, more interesting yet, goatherds with theirflocks, Mexicans all, who seemed to understand no English, but werepicturesque enough to look at and a welcome break in the extremelonesomeness of the way. 

I had been told that they would serve me as guides if I felt at alldoubtful of the trail, and in one or two instances they proved to be ofdecided help. They could gesticulate, if they could not speak English, and when I tried them with the one word Placide they would nod and pointout which of the many side canyons I was to follow. But they alwayslooked up as they did so, up, up, till I took to looking up, too, andwhen, after miles multiplied indefinitely by the winding of the trail, Icame out upon a ledge from which a full view of the opposite range couldbe had, and saw fronting me, from the side of one of its tremendouspeaks, the gap of a vast hole not two hundred feet from the snowline, Iknew that, inaccessible as it looked, I was gazing up at the opening ofAbner Fairbrother's new mine, the Placide. 

The experience was a strange one. The two ranges approached so nearlythat it seemed as if a ball might be tossed from one to the other. Butthe chasm between was stupendous. I grew dizzy as I looked downwardand saw the endless zigzags yet to be traversed step by step before thebottom of the canyon could be reached, and then the equally interminablezigzags up the acclivity beyond, all of which I must trace, still stepby step, before I could hope to arrive at the camp which, from where Istood, looked to be almost within hail of my voice. 

I have described the mine as a hole. That was all I saw at first--agreat black hole in the dark brown earth of the mountain-side, fromwhich ran down a still darker streak into the waste places far below it. But as I looked longer I saw that it was faced by a ledge cut out of thefriable soil, on which I was now able to descry the pronounced white oftwo or three tent-tops and some other signs of life, encouragingenough to the eye of one whose lot it was to crawl like a fly up thattremendous mountain-side. 

Truly I could understand why those three men, probably newspapercorrespondents like myself, had turned back to Santa Fe, after a glancefrom my present outlook. But though I understood I did not mean toduplicate their retreat. 

The sight of those tents, the thought of what one of them contained, inspired me with new courage, and, releasing my grip upon the rein, Iallowed my patient horse to proceed. Shortly after this I passed thedivide--that is where the water sheds both ways--then the descent began. It was zigzag, just as the climb had been, but I preferred the climb. Idid not have the unfathomable spaces so constantly before me, nor wasmy imagination so active. It was fixed on heights to be attained ratherthan on valleys to roll into. However, I did not roll. 

The Mexican saddle held me securely at whatever angle I was poised, andonce the bottom was reached I found that I could face, with considerableequanimity, the corresponding ascent. Only, as I saw how steep the climbbade fair to be, I did not see how I was ever to come down again. Goingup was possible, but the descent--

However, as what goes up must in the course of nature come down, I putthis question aside and gave my horse his head, after encouraging himwith a few blades of grass, which he seemed to find edible enough, though they had the look and something of the feel of spun glass. 

How we got there you must ask this good animal, who took all theresponsibility and did all the work. I merely clung and balanced, and attimes, when he rounded the end of a zigzag, for instance, I even shutmy eyes, though the prospect was magnificent. At last even his patienceseemed to give out, and he stopped and trembled. But before I could openmy eyes on the abyss beneath he made another effort. I felt the brush oftree branches across my face, and, looking up, saw before me the ledgeor platform dotted with tents, at which I had looked with such longingfrom the opposite hillsides. 

Simultaneously I heard voices, and saw approaching a bronzed and beardedman with strongly-marked Scotch features and a determined air. 

"The doctor!" I involuntarily exclaimed, with a glance at the small andcurious tent before which he stood guard. 

"Yes, the doctor, " he answered in unexpectedly good English. "And whoare you? Have you brought the mail and those medicines I sent for?"

"No, " I replied with as propitiatory a smile as I could muster up inface of his brusk forbidding expression. "I came on my own errand. Iam a representative of the New York--and I hope you will not deny me aword with Mr. Fairbrother. "

With a gesture I hardly knew how to interpret he took my horse by therein and led us on a few steps toward another large tent, where hemotioned me to descend. Then he laid his hand on my shoulder and, forcing me to meet his eye, said:

"You have made this journey--I believe you said from New York--to seeMr. Fairbrother. Why?"

"Because Mr. Fairbrother is at present the most sought-for man inAmerica, " I returned boldly. "His wife--you know about his wife--"

"No. How should I know about his wife? I know what his temperature isand what his respiration is--but his wife? What about his wife? He don'tknow anything about her now himself; he is not allowed to read letters. "

"But you read the papers. You must have known, before you left Santa Fe, of Mrs. Fairbrother's foul and most mysterious murder in New York. Ithas been the theme of two continents for the last ten days. "

He shrugged his shoulders, which might mean anything, and confined hisreply to a repetition of my own words. 

"Mrs. Fairbrother murdered!" he exclaimed, but in a suppressed voice, to which point was given by the cautious look he cast behind him at thetent which had drawn my attention. "He must not know it, man. I couldnot answer for his life if he received the least shock in his presentcritical condition. Murdered? When?"

"Ten days ago, at a ball in New York. It was after Mr. Fairbrother leftthe city. He was expected to return, after hearing the news, but heseems to have kept straight on to his destination. He was not very fondof his wife, --that is, they have not been living together for the lastyear. But he could not help feeling the shock of her death which he musthave heard of somewhere along the route. "

"He has said nothing in his delirium to show that he knew it. It ispossible, just possible, that he didn't read the papers. He could nothave been well for days before he reached Santa Fe. "

"When were you called in to attend him?"

"The very night after he reached this place. It was thought he wouldn'tlive to reach the camp. But he is a man of great pluck. He held up tillhis foot touched this platform. Then he succumbed. "

"If he was as sick as that, " I muttered, "why did he leave Santa Fe? Hemust have known what it would mean to be sick here. "

"I don't think he did. This is his first visit to the mine. He evidentlyknew nothing of the difficulties of the road. But he would not stop. Hewas determined to reach the camp, even after he had been given a sightof it from the opposite mountain. He told them that he had once crossedthe Sierras in midwinter. But he wasn't a sick man then. "

"Doctor, they don't know who killed his wife. "

"He didn't. "

"I know, but under such circumstances every fact bearing on the event isof immense importance. There is one which Mr. Fairbrother only can makeclear. It can be said in a word--"

The grim doctor's eye flashed angrily and I stopped. 

"Were you a detective from the district attorney's office in New York, sent on with special powers to examine him, I should still say what I amgoing to say now. While Mr. Fairbrother's temperature and pulse remainwhere they now are, no one shall see him and no one shall talk to himsave myself and his nurse. "

I turned with a sick look of disappointment toward the road up whichI had so lately come. "Have I panted, sweltered, trembled, for threemortal hours on the worst trail a man ever traversed to go back withnothing for my journey? That seems to me hard lines. Where is themanager of this mine?"

The doctor pointed toward a man bending over the edge of the great holefrom which, at that moment, a line of Mexicans was issuing, each with asack on his back which he flung down before what looked like a furnacebuilt of clay. 

"That's he. Mr. Haines, of Philadelphia. What do you want of him?"

"Permission to stay the night. Mr. Fairbrother may be better to-morrow. "

"I won't allow it and I am master here, so far as my patient isconcerned. You couldn't stay here without talking, and talking makesexcitement, and excitement is just what he can not stand. A week fromnow I will see about it--that is, if my patient continues to improve. Iam not sure that he will. "

"Let me spend that week here. I'll not talk any more than the dead. Maybethe manager will let me carry sacks. "

"Look here, " said the doctor, edging me farther and farther away fromthe tent he hardly let out of his sight for a moment. "You're a cannylad, and shall have your bite and something to drink before you takeyour way back. But back you go before sunset and with this message: Noman from any paper north or south will be received here till I hang outa blue flag. I say blue, for that is the color of my bandana. Whenmy patient is in a condition to discuss murder I'll hoist it from histent-top. It can be seen from the divide, and if you want to camp thereon the lookout, well and good. As for the police, that's another matter. I will see them if they come, but they need not expect to talk to mypatient. You may say so down there. It will save scrambling up thistrail to no purpose. "

"You may count on me, " said I; "trust a New York correspondent to do theright thing at the right time to head off the boys. But I doubt if theywill believe me. "

"In that case I shall have a barricade thrown up fifty feet down themountain-side, " said he. 

"But the mail and your supplies?"

"Oh, the burros can make their way up. We shan't suffer. "

"You are certainly master, " I remarked. 

All this time I had been using my eyes. There was not much to see, butwhat there was was romantically interesting. Aside from the furnace andwhat was going on there, there was little else but a sleeping-tent, acooking-tent, and the small one I had come on first, which, without theleast doubt, contained the sick man. This last tent was of a peculiarconstruction and showed the primitive nature of everything at thisheight. It consisted simply of a cloth thrown over a thing like atrapeze. This cloth did not even come to the ground on either side, butstopped short a foot or so from the flat mound of adobe which serves asa base or floor for hut or tent in New Mexico. The rear of the simpletent abutted on the mountain-side; the opening was toward the valley. I felt an intense desire to look into this opening, --so intense that Ithought I would venture on an attempt to gratify it. Scrutinizing theresolute face of the man before me and flattering myself that I detectedsigns of humor underlying his professional bruskness, I asked, somewhatmournfully, if he would let me go away without so much as a glance atthe man I had come so far to see. A glimpse would satisfy me I assuredhim, as the hint of a twinkle flashed in his eye. "Surely there will beno harm in that. I'll take it instead of supper. "

He smiled, but not encouragingly, and I was feeling very despondent, indeed, when the canvas on which our eyes were fixed suddenly shook andthe calm figure of a woman stepped out before us, clad in the simplestgarb, but showing in every line of face and form a character of mingledkindness and shrewdness. She was evidently on the lookout for thedoctor, for she made a sign as she saw him and returned instantly intothe tent. 

"Mr. Fairbrother has just fallen asleep, " he explained. "It isn'tdiscipline and I shall have to apologize to Miss Serra, but if you willpromise not to speak nor make the least disturbance I will let you takethe one peep you prefer to supper. "

"I promise, " said I. 

Leading the way to the opening, he whispered a word to the nurse, thenmotioned me to look in. The sight was a simple one, but to me veryimpressive. The owner of palaces, a man to whom millions were asthousands to such poor devils as myself, lay on an improvised bed ofevergreens, wrapped in a horse blanket and with nothing better thananother of these rolled up under his head. At his side sat his nurseon what looked like the uneven stump of a tree. Close to her hand wasa tolerably flat stone, on which I saw arranged a number of bottles andsuch other comforts as were absolutely necessary to a proper care of thesufferer. 

That was all. In these few words I have told the whole story. To besure, this simple tent, perched seven thousand feet and more abovesea-level, had one advantage which even his great house in New Yorkcould not offer This was the out look. Lying as he did facing thevalley, he had only to open his eyes to catch a full view of thepanorama of sky and mountain stretched out before him. It was glorious;whether seen at morning, noon or night, glorious. But I doubt if hewould not gladly have exchanged it for a sight of his home walls. 

As I started to go, a stir took place in the blanket wrapped about hischin, and I caught a glimpse of the iron-gray head and hollow cheeks ofthe great financier. He was a very sick man. Even I could see that. HadI obtained the permission I sought and been allowed to ask him one ofthe many questions burning on my tongue, I should have received onlydelirium for reply. There was no reaching that clouded intelligence now, and I felt grateful to the doctor for convincing me of it. 

I told him so and thanked him quite warmly when we were well away fromthe tent, and his answer was almost kindly, though he made no effort tohide his impatience and anxiety to see me go. The looks he cast at thesun were significant, and, having no wish to antagonize him and everywish to visit the spot again, I moved toward my horse with the intentionof untying him. 

To my surprise the doctor held me back. 

"You can't go to-night, " said he, "your horse has hurt himself. "

It was true. There was something the matter with the animal's leftforefoot. As the doctor lifted it, the manager came up. He agreed withthe doctor. I could not make the descent to Santa Fe on that horse thatnight. Did I feel elated? Rather. I had no wish to descend. Yet I wasfar from foreseeing what the night was to bring me. 

I was turned over to the manager, but not without a final injunctionfrom the doctor. "Not a word to any one about your errand! Not a wordabout the New York tragedy, as you value Mr. Fairbrother's life. "

"Not a word, " said I. 

Then he left me. 

To see the sun go down and the moon come up from a ledge hung, as itwere, in mid air! The experience was novel--but I refrain. I have moreimportant matters to relate. 

I was given a bunk at the extreme end of the long sleeping-tent, andturned in with the rest. I expected to sleep, but on finding thatI could catch a sight of the sick tent from under the canvas, Iexperienced such fascination in watching this forbidden spot thatmidnight came before I had closed my eyes. Then all desire to sleepleft me, for the patient began to moan and presently to talk, and, the stillness of the solitary height being something abnormal, I couldsometimes catch the very words. Devoid as they were of all rationalmeaning, they excited my curiosity to the burning point; for who couldtell if he might not say something bearing on the mystery?

But that fevered mind had recurred to early scenes and the babble whichcame to my ears was all of mining camps in the Rockies and the dickerof horses. Perhaps the uneasy movement of my horse pulling at the end ofhis tether had disturbed him. Perhaps--

But at the inner utterance of the second "perhaps" I found myself upon my elbow listening with all my ears, and staring with wide-stretchedeyes at the thicket of stunted trees where the road debouched on theplatform. Something was astir there besides my horse. I could catchsounds of an unmistakable nature. A rider was coming up the trail. 

Slipping back into my place, I turned toward the doctor, who lay sometwo or three bunks nearer the opening. He had started up, too, and ina moment was out of the tent. I do not think he had observed my action, for it was very dark where I lay and his back had been turned toward me. As for the others, they slept like the dead, only they made more noise. 

Interested--everything is interesting at such a height--I brought my eyeto bear on the ledge, and soon saw by the limpid light of a full moonthe stiff, short branches of the trees, on which my gaze was fixed, giveway to an advancing horse and rider. 

"Halloo!" saluted the doctor in a whisper, which was in itself awarning. "Easy there! We have sickness in this camp and it's a late hourfor visitors. "

"I know?"

The answer was subdued, but earnest. 

"I'm the magistrate of this district. I've a question to ask this sickman, on behalf of the New York Chief of Police, who is a personal friendof mine. It is connected with--"

"Hush!"

The doctor had seized him by the arm and turned his face away from thesick tent. Then the two heads came together and an argument began. 

I could not hear a word of it, but their motions were eloquent. Mysympathy was with the magistrate, of course, and I watched eagerly whilehe passed a letter over to the doctor, who vainly strove to read it bythe light of the moon. Finding this impossible, he was about to returnit, when the other struck a match and lit a lantern hanging from thehorn of his saddle. The two heads came together again, but as quicklyseparated with every appearance of irreconcilement, and I was settlingback with sensations of great disappointment, when a sound fell on thenight so unexpected to all concerned that with a common impulse each eyesought the sick tent. 

"Water! will some one give me water?" a voice had cried, quietly andwith none of the delirium which had hitherto rendered it unnatural. 

The doctor started for the tent. There was the quickness of surprise inhis movement and the gesture he made to the magistrate, as he passed in, reawakened an expectation in my breast which made me doubly watchful. 

Providence was intervening in our favor, and I was not surprised to seehim presently reissue with the nurse, whom he drew into the shadow ofthe trees, where they had a short conference. If she returned alone intothe tent after this conference I should know that the matter was at anend and that the doctor had decided to maintain his authority againstthat of the magistrate. But she remained outside and the magistrate wasinvited to join their council; when they again left the shadow of thetrees it was to approach the tent. 

The magistrate, who was in the rear, could not have more than passed theopening, but I thought him far enough inside not to detect any movementon my part, so I took advantage of the situation to worm myself out ofmy corner and across the ledge to where the tent made a shadow in themoonlight. 

Crouching close, and laying my ear against the canvas, I listened. 

The nurse was speaking in a gently persuasive tone. I imagined herkneeling by the head of the patient and breathing words into his ear. These were what I heard:

"You love diamonds. I have often noticed that; you look so long at thering on your hand. That is why I have let it stay there, though at timesI have feared it would drop off and roll away over the adobe down themountain-side. Was I right?"

"Yes, yes. " The words came with difficulty, but they were clear enough. "It's of small value. I like it because--"

He appeared to be too weak to finish. 

A pause, during which she seemed to edge nearer to him. 

"We all have some pet keepsake, " said she. "But I should never havesupposed this stone of yours an inexpensive one. But I forget that youare the owner of a very large and remarkable diamond, a diamond thatis spoken of sometimes in the papers. Of course, if you have a gem likethat, this one must appear very small and valueless to you. "

"Yes, this is nothing, nothing. " And he appeared to turn away his head. 

"Mr. Fairbrother! Pardon me, but I want to tell you something about thatbig diamond of yours. You have been in and have not been able to readyour letters, so do not know that your wife has had some trouble withthat diamond. People have said that it is not a real stone, but awell-executed imitation. May I write to her that this is a mistake, that it is all you have ever claimed for it--that is, an unusually largediamond of the first water?"

I listened in amazement. Surely, this was an insidious way to get atthe truth, --a woman's way, but who would say it was not a wise one, the wisest, perhaps, which could be taken under the circumstances? Whatwould his reply be? Would it show that he was as ignorant of his wife'sdeath as was generally believed, both by those about him here and thosewho knew him well in New York? Or would the question convey nothingfurther to him than the doubt--in itself an insult of the genuineness ofthat great stone which had been his pride?

A murmur--that was all it could be called--broke from his fever-driedlips and died away in an inarticulate gasp. Then, suddenly, sharply, acry broke from him, an intelligible cry, and we heard him say:

"No imitation! no imitation! It was a sun! a glory! No other like it! Itlit the air! it blazed, it burned! I see it now! I see--"

There the passion succumbed, the strength failed; another murmur, another, and the great void of night which stretched over--I mightalmost say under us--was no more quiet or seemingly impenetrable thanthe silence of that moon-enveloped tent. 

Would he speak again? I did not think so. Would she even try to makehim? I did not think this, either. But I did not know the woman. 

Softly her voice rose again. There was a dominating insistence in hertones, gentle as they were; the insistence of a healthy mind which seeksto control a weakened one. 

"You do not know of any imitation, then? It was the real stone you gaveher. You are sure of it; you would be ready to swear to it if--say justyes or no, " she finished in gentle urgency. 

Evidently he was sinking again into unconsciousness, and she was justholding him back long enough for the necessary word. 

It came slowly and with a dragging intonation, but there was nomistaking the ring of truth with which he spoke. 

"Yes, " said he. 

When I heard the doctor's voice and felt a movement in the canvasagainst which I leaned, I took the warning and stole back hurriedly tomy quarters. 

I was scarcely settled, when the same group of three I had beforewatched silhouetted itself again against the moonlight. There was sometalk, a mingling and separating of shadows; then the nurse glided backto her duties and the two men went toward the clump of trees where thehorse had been tethered. 

Ten minutes and the doctor was back in his bunk. Was it imagination, or did I feel his hand on my shoulder before he finally lay down andcomposed himself to sleep? I can not say; I only know that I gave nosign, and that soon all stir ceased in his direction and I was left toenjoy my triumph and to listen with anxious interest to the strange andunintelligible sounds which accompanied the descent of the horseman downthe face of the cliff, and finally to watch with a fascination, whichdrew me to my knees, the passage of that sparkling star of light hangingfrom his saddle. It crept to and fro across the side of the oppositemountain as he threaded its endless zigzags and finally disappeared overthe brow into the invisible canyons beyond. 

With the disappearance of this beacon came lassitude and sleep, throughwhose hazy atmosphere floated wild sentences from the sick tent, whichshowed that the patient was back again in Nevada, quarreling overthe price of a horse which was to carry him beyond the reach of somethreatening avalanche. 

When next morning I came to depart, the doctor took me by both hands andlooked me straight in the eyes. 

"You heard, " he said. 

"How do you know?" I asked. 

"I can tell a satisfied man when I see him, " he growled, throwingdown my hands with that same humorous twinkle in his eyes which hadencouraged me from the first. 

I made no answer, but I shall remember the lesson. 

One detail more. When I stared on my own descent I found why theleggings, with which I had been provided, were so indispensable. I wasnot allowed to ride; indeed, riding down those steep declivities wasimpossible. No horse could preserve his balance with a rider on hisback. I slid, so did my horse, and only in the valley beneath did wecome together again. 

VIII. ARREST

The success of this interview provoked other attempts on the part of thereporters who now flocked into the Southwest. Ere long particulars beganto pour in of Mr. Fairbrother's painful journey south, after his illnessset in. The clerk of the hotel in El Moro, where the great mine-owner'sname was found registered at the time of the murder, told a storywhich made very good reading for those who were more interested in thesufferings and experiences of the millionaire husband of the murderedlady than in those of the unhappy but comparatively insignificant manupon whom public opinion had cast the odium of her death. 

It seems that when the first news came of the great crime which hadtaken place in New York, Mr. Fairbrother was absent from the hotel on aprospecting tour through the adjacent mountains. Couriers had been sentafter him, and it was one of these who finally brought him into town. He had been found wandering alone on horseback among the defiles of anuntraveled region, sick and almost incoherent from fever. Indeed, hiscondition was such that neither the courier nor such others as saw himhad the heart to tell him the dreadful news from New York, or even toshow him the papers. To their great relief, he betrayed no curiosity inthem. All he wanted was a berth in the first train going south, and thiswas an easy way for them out of a great responsibility. They listenedto his wishes and saw him safely aboard, with such alacrity and withso many precautions against his being disturbed that they have neverdoubted that he left El Moro in total ignorance, not only of thecircumstances of his great bereavement, but of the bereavement itself. 

This ignorance, which he appeared to have carried with him to thePlacide, was regarded by those who knew him best as proving the truth ofthe affirmation elicited from him in the pauses of his delirium of thegenuineness of the stone which had passed from his hands to those of hiswife at the time of their separation; and, further despatches coming in, some private and some official, but all insisting upon the fact that itwould be weeks before he would be in a condition to submit to any sortof examination on a subject so painful, the authorities in New Yorkdecided to wait no longer for his testimony, but to proceed at once withthe inquest. 

Great as is the temptation to give a detailed account of proceedingswhich were of such moment to myself, and to every word of which Ilistened with the eagerness of a novice and the anguish of a womanwho sees her lover's reputation at the mercy of a verdict which maystigmatize him as a possible criminal, I see no reason for encumberingmy narrative with what, for the most part, would be a mere repetition offacts already known to you. 

Mr. Durand's intimate and suggestive connection with this crime, theexplanations he had to give of this connection, frequently bizarre and, I must acknowledge, not always convincing, --nothing could alter thesenor change the fact of the undoubted cowardice he displayed in hidingMrs. Fairbrother's gloves in my unfortunate little bag. 

As for the mystery of the warning, it remained as much of a mystery asever. Nor did any better success follow an attempt to fix the ownershipof the stiletto, though a half-day was exhausted in an endeavor to showthat the latter might have come into Mr. Durand's possession in some ofthe many visits he was shown to have made of late to various curio-shopsin and out of New York City. *

I had expected all this, just as I had expected Mr. Grey to be absentfrom the proceedings and his testimony ignored. But this expectation didnot make the ordeal any easier, and when I noticed the effect of witnessafter witness leaving the stand without having improved Mr. Durand'sposition by a jot or offering any new clue capable of turning suspicioninto other directions, I felt my spirit harden and my purpose strengthentill I hardly knew myself. I must have frightened my uncle, for his handwas always on my arm and his chiding voice in my ear, bidding me beware, not only for my own sake and his, but for that of Mr. Durand, whose eyewas seldom away from my face. 

The verdict, however, was not the one I had so deeply dreaded. While itdid not exonerate Mr. Durand, it did not openly accuse him, and I was onthe point of giving him a smile of congratulation and renewed hope whenI saw my little detective--the one who had spied the gloves in my bag atthe ball--advance and place his hand upon his arm. 

The police had gone a step further than the coroner's jury, and Mr. Durand was arrested, before my eyes, on a charge of murder. 

 * Mr. Durand's visits to the curio-shops, as explained by him, were made with a view of finding a casket in which to place his diamond. This explanation was looked upon with as much doubt as the others he had offered where the situation seemed to be of a compromising character. 

IX. THE MOUSE NIBBLES AT THE NET

The next day saw me at police headquarters begging an interview from theinspector, with the intention of confiding to him a theory which musteither cost me his sympathy or open the way to a new inquiry, which Ifelt sure would lead to Mr. Durand's complete exoneration. 

I chose this gentleman for my confidant, from among all those with whomI had been brought in contact by my position as witness in a case ofthis magnitude, first, because he had been present at the mosttragic moment of my life, and secondly, because I was conscious ofa sympathetic bond between us which would insure me a kind hearing. However ridiculous my idea might appear to him, I was assured that hewould treat me with consideration and not visit whatever folly I mightbe guilty of on the head of him for whom I risked my reputation for goodsense. 

Nor was I disappointed in this. Inspector Dalzell's air was fatherly andhis tone altogether gentle as, in reply to my excuses for troubling himwith my opinions, he told me that in a case of such importance hewas glad to receive the impressions even of such a prejudiced littlepartizan as myself. The word fired me, and I spoke. 

"You consider Mr. Durand guilty, and so do many others, I fear, in spiteof his long record for honesty and uprightness. And why? Because youwill not admit the possibility of another person's guilt, --a personstanding so high in private and public estimation that the very ideaseems preposterous and little short of insulting to the country of whichhe is an acknowledged ornament. "

"My dear!"

The inspector had actually risen. His expression and whole attitudeshowed shock. But I did not quail; I only subdued my manner and spokewith quieter conviction. 

"I am aware, " said I, "how words so daring must impress you. But listen, sir; listen to what I have to say before you utterly condemn me. Iacknowledge that it is the frightful position into which I threw Mr. Durand by my officious attempt to right him which has driven me tomake this second effort to fix the crime on the only other man who hadpossible access to Mrs. Fairbrother at the fatal moment. How could Ilive in inaction? How could you expect me to weigh for a momentthis foreigner's reputation against that of my own lover? If I havereasons--"

"Reasons!"

"--reasons which would appeal to all; if instead of this person's havingan international reputation at his back he had been a simple gentlemanlike Mr. Durand, --would you not consider me entitled to speak?"

"Certainly, but--"

"You have no confidence in my reasons, Inspector; they may not weighagainst that splash of blood on Mr. Durand's shirt-front, but such asthey are I must give them. But first, it will be necessary for you toaccept for the nonce Mr. Durand's statements as true. Are you willing todo this?"

"I will try. "

"Then, a harder thing yet, --to put some confidence in my judgment. I sawthe man and did not like him long before any intimation of the evening'stragedy had turned suspicion on any one. I watched him as I watchedothers. I saw that he had not come to the ball to please Mr. Ramsdell orfor any pleasure he himself hoped to reap from social intercourse, but for some purpose much more important, and that this purpose wasconnected with Mrs. Fairbrother's diamond. Indifferent, almost morosebefore she came upon the scene, he brightened to a surprising extent themoment he found himself in her presence. Not because she was a beautifulwoman, for he scarcely honored her face or even her superb figure with alook. All his glances were centered on her large fan, which, in swayingto and fro, alternately hid and revealed the splendor on her breast; andwhen by chance it hung suspended for a moment in her forgetful hand andhe caught a full glimpse of the great gem, I perceived such a changein his face that, if nothing more had occurred that night to giveprominence to this woman and her diamond, I should have carried home theconviction that interests of no common import lay behind a feeling soextraordinarily displayed. "

"Fanciful, my dear Miss Van Arsdale I Interesting, but fanciful. "

"I know. I have not yet touched on fact. But facts are coming, Inspector. "

He stared. Evidently he was not accustomed to hear the law laid down inthis fashion by a midget of my proportions. 

"Go on, " said he; "happily, I have no clerk here to listen. "

"I would not speak if you had. These are words for but one ear as yet. Not even my uncle suspects the direction of my thoughts. "

"Proceed, " he again enjoined. 

Upon which I plunged into my subject. 

"Mrs. Fairbrother wore the real diamond, and no imitation, to theball. Of this I feel sure. The bit of glass or paste displayed to thecoroner's jury was bright enough, but it was not the star of light I sawburning on her breast as she passed me on her way to the alcove. "

"Miss Van Arsdale!"

"The interest which Mr. Durand displayed in it, the marked excitementinto which he was thrown by his first view of its size and splendor, confirm in my mind the evidence which he gave on oath (and he is awell-known diamond expert, you know, and must have been very well awarethat he would injure rather than help his cause by this admission) thatat that time he believed the stone to be real and of immense value. Wearing such a gem, then, she entered the fatal alcove, and, witha smile on her face, prepared to employ her fascinations on whoeverchanced to come within their reach. But now something happened. Pleaselet me tell it my own way. A shout from the driveway, or a bit of snowthrown against the window, drew her attention to a man standing below, holding up a note fastened to the end of a whip-handle. I do not knowwhether or not you have found that man. If you have--" The inspectormade no sign. "I judge that you have not, so I may go on with mysuppositions. Mrs. Fairbrother took in this note. She may have expectedit and for this reason chose the alcove to sit in, or it may have been asurprise to her. Probably we shall never know the whole truth about it;but what we can know and do, if you are still holding to our compact andviewing this crime in the light of Mr. Durand's explanations, is that itmade a change in her and made her anxious to rid herself of the diamond. It has been decided that the hurried scrawl should read, 'Take warning. He means to be at the ball. Expect trouble if you do not give him thediamond, ' or something to that effect. But why was it passed up to herunfinished? Was the haste too great? I hardly think so. I believe inanother explanation, which points with startling directness to thepossibility that the person referred to in this broken communication wasnot Mr. Durand, but one whom I need not name; and that the reason youhave failed to find the messenger, of whose appearance you have receiveddefinite information, is that you have not looked among the servantsof a certain distinguished visitor in town. Oh, " I burst forth withfeverish volubility, as I saw the inspector's lips open in what couldnot fail to be a sarcastic utterance, "I know what you feel tempted toreply. Why should a servant deliver a warning against his own master? Ifyou will be patient with me you will soon see; but first I wish to makeit clear that Mrs. Fairbrother, having received this warning just beforeMr. Durand appeared in the alcove, --reckless, scheming woman that shewas!--sought to rid herself of the object against which it was directedin the way we have temporarily accepted as true. Relying on her arts, and possibly misconceiving the nature of Mr. Durand's interest in her, she hands over the diamond hidden in her rolled-up gloves, whichhe, without suspicion, carries away with him, thus linking himselfindissolubly to a great crime of which another was the perpetrator. Thatother, or so I believe from my very heart of hearts, was the man I sawleaning against the wall at the foot of the alcove a few minutes beforeI passed into the supper-room. "

I stopped with a gasp, hardly able to meet the stern and forbidding lookwith which the inspector sought to restrain what he evidently consideredthe senseless ravings of a child. But I had come there to speak, andI hastily proceeded before the rebuke thus expressed could formulateitself into words. 

"I have some excuse for a declaration so monstrous. Perhaps I am theonly person who can satisfy you in regard to a certain fact about whichyou have expressed some curiosity. Inspector, have you ever solved themystery of the two broken coffee-cups found amongst the debris at Mrs. Fairbrother's feet? It did not come out in the inquest, I noticed. "

"Not yet, " he cried, "but--you can not tell me anything about them!"

"Possibly not. But I can tell you this: When I reached the supper-roomdoor that evening I looked back and, providentially or otherwise--onlythe future can determine that--detected Mr. Grey in the act of liftingtwo cups from a tray left by some waiter on a table standing justoutside the reception-room door. I did not see where he carried them;I only saw his face turned toward the alcove; and as there was no otherlady there, or anywhere near there, I have dared to think--"

Here the inspector found speech. 

"You saw Mr. Grey lift two cups and turn toward the alcove at a momentwe all know to have been critical? You should have told me this before. He may be a possible witness. "

I scarcely listened. I was too full of my own argument. 

"There were other people in the hall, especially at my end of it. Aperfect throng was coming from the billiard-room, where the dancing hadbeen, and it might easily be that he could both enter and leave thatsecluded spot without attracting attention. He had shown too early andmuch too unmistakably his lack of interest in the general company forhis every movement to be watched as at his first arrival. But thisis simple conjecture; what I have to say next is evidence. Thestiletto--have you studied it, sir? I have, from the pictures. It isvery quaint; and among the devices on the handle is one that especiallyattracted my attention. See! This is what I mean. " And I handed hima drawing which I had made with some care in expectation of this veryinterview. 

He surveyed it with some astonishment. 

"I understand, " I pursued in trembling tones, for I was much affected bymy own daring, "that no one has so far succeeded in tracing this weaponto its owner. Why didn't your experts study heraldry and the devicesof great houses? They would have found that this one is not unknown inEngland. I can tell you on whose blazon it can often be seen, and socould--Mr. Grey. "

X. I ASTONISH THE INSPECTOR

I was not the only one to tremble now. This man of infinite experienceand daily contact with crime had turned as pale as ever I myself haddone in face of a threatening calamity. 

"I shall see about this, " he muttered, crumpling the paper in hishand. "But this is a very terrible business you are plunging me into. Isincerely hope that you are not heedlessly misleading me. "

"I am correct in my facts, if that is what you mean, " said I. "Thestiletto is an English heirloom, and bears on its blade, among otherdevices, that of Mr. Grey's family on the female side. But that is notall I want to say. If the blow was struck to obtain the diamond, theshock of not finding it on his victim must have been terrible. Now Mr. Grey's heart, if my whole theory is not utterly false, was set uponobtaining this stone. Your eye was not on him as mine was when youmade your appearance in the hall with the recovered jewel. He showedastonishment, eagerness, and a determination which finally led himforward, as you know, with the request to take the diamond in his hand. Why did he want to take it in his hand? And why, having taken it, didhe drop it--a diamond supposed to be worth an ordinary man's fortune?Because he was startled by a cry he chose to consider the traditionalone of his family proclaiming death? Is it likely, sir? Is itconceivable even that any such cry as we heard could, in this dayand generation, ring through such an assemblage, unless it came withventriloquial power from his own lips? You observed that he turned hisback; that his face was hidden from us. Discreet and reticent as we haveall been, and careful in our criticisms of so bizarre an event, therestill must be many to question the reality of such superstitious fears, and some to ask if such a sound could be without human agency, and avery guilty agency, too. Inspector, I am but a child in your estimation, and I feel my position in this matter much more keenly than you do, butI would not be true to the man whom I have unwittingly helped to placein his present unenviable position if I did not tell you that, in myjudgment, this cry was a spurious one, employed by the gentleman himselfas an excuse for dropping the stone. "

"And why should he wish to drop the stone?"

"Because of the fraud he meditated. Because it offered him anopportunity for substituting a false stone for the real. Did you notnotice a change in the aspect of this jewel dating from this verymoment? Did it shine with as much brilliancy in your hand when youreceived it back as when you passed it over?"

"Nonsense! I do not know; it is all too absurd for argument. " Yet he didstop to argue, saying in the next breath: "You forget that the stonehas a setting. Would you claim that this gentleman of family, place andpolitical distinction had planned this hideous crime with sufficientpremeditation to have provided himself with the exact counterpart of abrooch which it is highly improbable he ever saw? You would make him outa Cagliostro or something worse. Miss Van Arsdale, I fear your theorywill topple over of its own weight. "

He was very patient with me; he did not show me the door. 

"Yet such a substitution took place, and took place that evening, " Iinsisted. "The bit of paste shown us at the inquest was never the gemMrs. Fairbrother wore on entering the alcove. Besides, where all issensation, why cavil at one more improbability? Mr. Grey may have comeover to America for no other reason. He is known as a collector, andwhen a man has a passion for diamond-getting--"

"He is known as a collector?"

"In his own country. "

"I was not told that. "

"Nor I. But I found it out. "

"How, my dear child, how?"

"By a cablegram or so. "

"You--cabled--his name--to England?"

"No, Inspector; uncle has a code, and I made use of it to ask a friendin London for a list of the most noted diamond fanciers in the country. Mr. Grey's name was third on the list. "

He gave me a look in which admiration was strangely blended with doubtand apprehension. 

"You are making a brave struggle, " said he, "but it is a hopeless one. "

"I have one more confidence to repose in you. The nurse who has chargeof Miss Grey was in my class in the hospital. We love each other, andto her I dared appeal on one point. Inspector--" here my voiceunconsciously fell as he impetuously drew nearer--"a note was sent fromthat sick chamber on the night of the ball, --a note surreptitiouslywritten by Miss Grey, while the nurse was in an adjoining room. Themessenger was Mr. Grey's valet, and its destination the house in whichher father was enjoying his position as chief guest. She says that itwas meant for him, but I have dared to think that the valet would tella different story. My friend did not see what her patient wrote, but sheacknowledged that if her patient wrote more than two words the resultmust have been an unintelligible scrawl, since she was too weak to holda pencil firmly, and so nearly blind that she would have had to feel herway over the paper. "

The inspector started, and, rising hastily, went to his desk, from whichhe presently brought the scrap of paper which had already figured in theinquest as the mysterious communication taken from Mrs. Fairbrother'shand by the coroner. Pressing it out flat, he took another look at it, then glanced up in visible discomposure. 

"It has always looked to us as if written in the dark, by an agitatedhand; but--"

I said nothing; the broken and unfinished scrawl was sufficientlyeloquent. 

"Did your friend declare Miss Grey to have written with a pencil and ona small piece of unruled paper?"

"Yes, the pencil was at her bedside; the paper was torn from a bookwhich lay there. She did not put the note when written in an envelope, but gave it to the valet just as it was. He is an old man and had cometo her room for some final orders. "

"The nurse saw all this? Has she that book?"

"No, it went out next morning, with the scraps. It was some pamphlet, Ibelieve. "

The inspector turned the morsel of paper over and over in his hand. 

"What is this nurse's name?"

"Henrietta Pierson. "

"Does she share your doubts?"

"I can not say. "

"You have seen her often?"

"No, only the one time. "

"Is she discreet?"

"Very. On this subject she will be like the grave unless forced by youto speak. "

"And Miss Grey?"

"She is still ill, too ill to be disturbed by questions, especially onso delicate a topic. But she is getting well fast. Her father's fearsas we heard them expressed on one memorable occasion were ill founded, sir. "

Slowly the inspector inserted this scrap of paper between the foldsof his pocketbook. He did not give me another look, though I stoodtrembling before him. Was he in any way convinced or was he simplyseeking for the most considerate way in which to dismiss me andmy abominable theory? I could not gather his intentions from hisexpression, and was feeling very faint and heart-sick when he suddenlyturned upon me with the remark:

"A girl as ill as you say Miss Grey was must have had some very pressingmatter on her mind to attempt to write and send a message under suchdifficulties. According to your idea, she had some notion of herfather's designs and wished to warn Mrs. Fairbrother against them. Butdon't you see that such conduct as this would be preposterous, nay, unparalleled in persons of their distinction? You must find some otherexplanation for Miss Grey's seemingly mysterious action, and I an agentof crime other than one of England's most reputable statesmen. "

"So that Mr. Durand is shown the same consideration, I am content, " saidI. "It is the truth and the truth only I desire. I am willing to trustmy cause with you. "

He looked none too grateful for this confidence. Indeed, now that Ilook back on this scene, I do not wonder that he shrank from theresponsibility thus foisted upon him. 

"What do you want me to do?" he asked. 

"Prove something. Prove that I am altogether wrong or altogether right. Or if proof is not possible, pray allow me the privilege of doing what Ican myself to clear up the matter. "

"You?"

There was apprehension, disapprobation, almost menace in his tone. Ibore it with as steady and modest a glance as possible, saying, when Ithought he was about to speak again:

"I will do nothing without your sanction. I realize the dangers of thisinquiry and the disgrace that would follow if our attempt was suspectedbefore proof reached a point sufficient to justify it. It is not an openattack I meditate, but one--"

Here I whispered in his ear for several minutes, when I had finished hegave me a prolonged stare, then he laid his hand on my head. 

"You are a little wonder, " he declared. "But your ideas are veryquixotic, very. However, " he added, suddenly growing grave, "something, I must admit, may be excused a young girl who finds herself forced tochoose between the guilt of her lover and that of a man esteemedgreat by the world, but altogether removed from her and her naturalsympathies. "

"You acknowledge, then, that it lies between these two?"

"I see no third, " said he. 

I drew a breath of relief. 

"Don't deceive yourself, Miss Van Arsdale; it is not among thepossibilities that Mr. Grey has had any connection with this crime. Heis an eccentric man, that's all. "

"But--but--"

"I shall do my duty. I shall satisfy you and myself on certain points, and if--" I hardly breathed "--there is the least doubt, I will see youagain and--"

The change he saw in me frightened away the end of his sentence. Turningupon me with some severity, he declared: "There are nine hundred andninety-nine chances in a thousand that my next word to you will beto prepare yourself for Mr. Durand's arraignment and trial. But aninfinitesimal chance remains to the contrary. If you choose to trust toit, I can only admire your pluck and the great confidence you show inyour unfortunate lover. "

And with this half-hearted encouragement I was forced to be content, notonly for that day, but for many days, when--

XI. THE INSPECTOR ASTONISHES ME

But before I proceed to relate what happened at the end of those twoweeks, I must say a word or two in regard to what happened during them. 

Nothing happened to improve Mr. Durand's position, and nothing openly tocompromise Mr. Grey's. Mr. Fairbrother, from whose testimony many of ushoped something would yet be gleaned calculated to give a turn to thesuspicion now centered on one man, continued ill in New Mexico; andall that could be learned from him of any importance was contained ina short letter dictated from his bed, in which he affirmed that thediamond, when it left him, was in a unique setting procured by himselfin France; that he knew of no other jewel similarly mounted, and thatif the false gem was set according to his own description, theprobabilities were that the imitation stone had been put in place of thereal one under his wife's direction and in some workshop in New York, as she was not the woman to take the trouble to send abroad for anythingshe could get done in this country. The description followed. Itcoincided with the one we all knew. 

This was something of a blow to me. Public opinion would naturallyreflect that of the husband, and it would require very strong evidenceindeed to combat a logical supposition of this kind with one so forcedand seemingly extravagant as that upon which my own theory was based. Yet truth often transcends imagination, and, having confidence in theinspector's integrity, I subdued my impatience for a week, almost fortwo, when my suspense and rapidly culminating dread of some action beingtaken against Mr. Durand were suddenly cut short by a message from theinspector, followed by his speedy presence in my uncle's house. 

We have a little room on our parlor floor, very snug and secluded, andin this room I received him. Seldom have I dreaded a meeting more andseldom have I been met with greater kindness and consideration. He wasso kind that I feared he had only disappointing news to communicate, buthis first words reassured me. He said:

"I have come to you on a matter of importance. We have found enoughtruth in the suppositions you advanced at our last interview to warrantus in the attempt you yourself proposed for the elucidation of thismystery. That this is the most risky and altogether the most unpleasantduty which I have encountered during my several years of service, I amwilling to acknowledge to one so sensible and at the same time of somuch modesty as yourself. This English gentleman has a reputation whichlifts him far above any unworthy suspicion, and were it not for thefavorable impression made upon us by Mr. Durand in a long talk we hadwith him last night, I would sooner resign my place than pursue thismatter against him. Success would create a horror on both sides thewater unprecedented during my career, while failure would bring downridicule on us which would destroy the prestige of the whole force. Doyou see my difficulty, Miss Van Arsdale? We can not even approach thishaughty and highly reputable Englishman with questions without callingdown on us the wrath of the whole English nation. We must be surebefore we make a move, and for us to be sure where the evidence is allcircumstantial, I know of no better plan than the one you were pleasedto suggest, which, at the time, I was pleased to call quixotic. "

Drawing a long breath I surveyed him timidly. Never had I so realizedmy presumption or experienced such a thrill of joy in my frightened yetelated heart. They believed in Anson's innocence and they trusted me. Insignificant as I was, it was to my exertions this great result wasdue. As I realized this, I felt my heart swell and my throat close. Indespair of speaking I held out my hands. He took them kindly and seemedto be quite satisfied. 

"Such a little, trembling, tear-filled Amazon!" he cried. "Shall youhave courage to undertake the task before you? If not--"

"Oh, but I have, " said I. "It is your goodness and the surprise of itall which unnerves me. I can go through what we have planned if youthink the secret of my personality and interest in Mr. Durand can bekept from the people I go among. "

"It can if you will follow our advice implicitly. You say that youknow the doctor and that he stands ready to recommend you in case MissPierson withdraws her services. "

"Yes, he is eager to give me a chance. He was a college mate of myfather's. "

"How will you explain to him your wish to enter upon your duties underanother name?"

"Very simply. I have already told him that the publicity given my namein the late proceedings has made me very uncomfortable; that my firstcase of nursing would require all my self-possession and that if he didnot think it wrong I should like to go to it under my mother's name. He made no dissent and I think I can persuade him that I would do muchbetter work as Miss Ayers than as the too well-known Miss Van Arsdale. "

"You have great powers of persuasion. But may you not meet people at thehotel who know you?"

"I shall try to avoid people; and, if my identity is discovered, itseffect or non-effect upon one we find it difficult to mention will giveus our clue. If he has no guilty interest in the crime, my connectionwith it as a witness will not disturb him. Besides, two days ofunsuspicious acceptance of me as Miss Grey's nurse are all I want. I shall take immediate opportunity, I assure you, to make the test Imentioned. But how much confidence you will have to repose in me! Icomprehend all the importance of my undertaking, and shall work as if myhonor, as well as yours, were at stake. "

"I am sure you will. " Then for the first time in my life I was glad thatI was small and plain rather than tall and fascinating like so many ofmy friends, for he said: "If you had been a triumphant beauty, dependingon your charms as a woman to win people to your will, we should neverhave listened to your proposition or risked our reputation in yourhands. It is your wit, your earnestness and your quiet determinationwhich have impressed us. You see I speak plainly. I do so because Irespect you. And now to business. "

Details followed. After these were well understood between us, Iventured to say: "Do you object--would it be asking too much--if Irequested some enlightenment as to what facts you have discoveredabout Mr. Grey which go to substantiate my theory? I might work moreintelligently. "

"No, Miss Van Arsdale, you would not work more intelligently, and youknow it. But you have the natural curiosity of one whose very heart isbound up in this business. I could deny you what you ask but I won't, for I want you to work with quiet confidence, which you would not do ifyour mind were taken up with doubts and questions. Miss Van Arsdale, onesurmise of yours was correct. A man was sent that night to the Ramsdellhouse with a note from Miss Grey. We know this because he boasted of itto one of the bell-boys before he went out, saying that he was going tohave a glimpse of one of the swellest parties of the season. It is alsotrue that this man was Mr. Grey's valet, an old servant who came overwith him from England. But what adds weight to all this and makes usregard the whole affair with suspicion, is the additional fact that thisman received his dismissal the following morning and has not been seensince by any one we could reach. This looks bad to begin with, like thesuppression of evidence, you know. Then Mr. Grey has not been the sameman since that night. He is full of care and this care is not entirelyin connection with his daughter, who is doing very well and bids fairto be up in a few days. But all this would be nothing if we had notreceived advices from England which prove that Mr. Grey's visit here hasan element of mystery in it. There was every reason for his remaining inhis own country, where a political crisis is approaching, yet he crossedthe water, bringing his sickly daughter with him. The explanation asvolunteered by one who knew him well was this: That only his desire tosee or acquire some precious object for his collection could have takenhim across the ocean at this time, nothing else rivaling his interest ingovernmental affairs. Still this would be nothing if a stilettosimilar to the one employed in this crime had not once formed part of acollection of curios belonging to a cousin of his whom he often visited. This stiletto has been missing for some time, stolen, as the ownerdeclared, by some unknown person. All this looks bad enough, but when Itell you that a week before the fatal ball at Mr. Ramsdell's, Mr. Greymade a tour of the jewelers on Broadway and, with the pretext of buyinga diamond for his daughter, entered into a talk about famous stones, ending always with some question about the Fairbrother gem, you will seethat his interest in that stone is established and that it only remainsfor us to discover if that interest is a guilty one. I can not believethis possible, but you have our leave to make your experiment and see. Only do not count too much on his superstition. If he is the deep-dyedcriminal you imagine, the cry which startled us all at a certaincritical instant was raised by himself and for the purpose yousuggested. None of the sensitiveness often shown by a man who has beensurprised into crime will be his. Relying on his reputation and theprestige of his great name, he will, if he thinks himself under fire, face every shock unmoved. "

"I see; I understand. He must believe himself all alone; then, thenatural man may appear. I thank you, Inspector. That idea isof inestimable value to me, and I shall act on it. I do not sayimmediately; not on the first day, and possibly not on the second, butas soon as opportunity offers for my doing what I have planned with anychance of success. And now, advise me how to circumvent my uncle andaunt, who must never know to what an undertaking I have committedmyself. "

Inspector Dalzell spared me another fifteen minutes, and this lastdetail was arranged. Then he rose to go. As he turned from me he said:

"To-morrow?"

And I answered with a full heart, but a voice clear as my purpose:

"To-morrow. "

XII. ALMOST

"This is your patient. Your new nurse, my dear. What did you say yourname is? Miss Ayers?"

"Yes, Mr. Grey, Alice Ayers. "

"Oh, what a sweet name!"

This expressive greeting, from the patient herself, was the firstheart-sting I received, --a sting which brought a flush into my cheekwhich I would fain have kept down. 

"Since a change of nurses was necessary, I am glad they sent me onelike you, " the feeble, but musical voice went on, and I saw a wasted buteager hand stretched out. 

In a whirl of strong feeling I advanced to take it. I had not counted onsuch a reception. I had not expected any bond of congeniality to springup between this high-feeling English girl and myself to make my purposehateful to me. Yet, as I stood there looking down at her bright ifwasted face, I felt that it would be very easy to love so gentle andcordial a being, and dreaded raising my eyes to the gentleman at my sidelest I should see something in him to hamper me, and make this attempt, which I had undertaken in such loyalty of spirit, a misery to myself andineffectual to the man I had hoped to save by it. When I did look up andcatch the first beams of Mr. Grey's keen blue eyes fixed inquiringly onme, I neither knew what to think nor how to act. He was tall and firmlyknit, and had an intellectual aspect altogether. I was conscious ofregarding him with a decided feeling of awe, and found myself forgettingwhy I had come there, and what my suspicions were, --suspicions which hadcarried hope with them, hope for myself and hope for my lover, who wouldnever escape the opprobrium, even if he did the punishment, of thisgreat crime, were this, the only other person who could possibly beassociated with it, found to be the fine, clear-souled man he appearedto be in this my first interview with him. 

Perceiving very soon that his apprehensions in my regard were limited toa fear lest I should not feel at ease in my new home under the restraintof a presence more accustomed to intimidate than attract strangers, Ithrew aside all doubts of myself and met the advances of both father anddaughter with that quiet confidence which my position there demanded. 

The result both gratified and grieved me. As a nurse entering on herfirst case I was happy; as a woman with an ulterior object in viewverging on the audacious and unspeakable, I was wretched and regretfuland just a little shaken in the conviction which had hitherto upheld me. 

I was therefore but poorly prepared to meet the ordeal which awaited me, when, a little later in the day, Mr. Grey called me into the adjoiningroom, and, after saying that it would afford him great relief to goout for an hour or so, asked if I were afraid to be left alone with mypatient. 

"O no, sir--" I began, but stopped in secret dismay. I was afraid, butnot on account of her condition; rather on account of my own. What ifI should be led into betraying my feelings on finding myself under noother eye than her own! What if the temptation to probe her poor sickmind should prove stronger than my duty toward her as a nurse!

My tones were hesitating but Mr. Grey paid little heed; his mind was toofixed on what he wished to say himself. 

"Before I go, " said he, "I have a request to make--I may as well say acaution to give you. Do not, I pray, either now or at any future time, carry or allow any one else to carry newspapers into Miss Grey's room. They are just now too alarming. There has been, as you know, a dreadfulmurder in this city. If she caught one glimpse of the headlines, or sawso much as the name of Fairbrother--which--which is a name she knows, the result might be very hurtful to her. She is not only extremelysensitive from illness but from temperament. Will you be careful?"

"I shall be careful. "

It was such an effort for me to say these words, to say anything in thestate of mind into which I had been thrown by his unexpected allusion tothis subject, that I unfortunately drew his attention to myself and itwas with what I felt to be a glance of doubt that he added with decidedemphasis:

"You must consider this whole subject as a forbidden one in this family. Only cheerful topics are suitable for the sick-room. If Miss Greyattempts to introduce any other, stop her. Do not let her talk aboutanything which will not be conducive to her speedy recovery. These arethe only instructions I have to give you; all others must come from herphysician. "

I made some reply with as little show of emotion as possible. It seemedto satisfy him, for his face cleared as he kindly observed:

"You have a very trustworthy look for one so young. I shall rest easywhile you are with her, and I shall expect you to be always with herwhen I am not. Every moment, mind. She is never to be left alone withgossiping servants. If a word is mentioned in her hearing about thiscrime which seems to be in everybody's mouth, I shall feel forced, greatly as I should regret the fad, to blame you. "

This was a heart-stroke, but I kept up bravely, changing color perhaps, but not to such a marked degree as to arouse any deeper suspicion in hismind than that I had been wounded in my amour propre. 

"She shall be well guarded, " said I. "You may trust me to keep from herall avoidable knowledge of this crime. "

He bowed and I was about to leave his presence, when he detained meby remarking with the air of one who felt that some explanation wasnecessary:

"I was at the ball where this crime took place. Naturally it has made adeep impression on me and would on her if she heard of it. "

"Assuredly, " I murmured, wondering if he would say more and how I shouldhave the courage to stand there and listen if he did. 

"It is the first time I have ever come in contact with crime, " he wenton with what, in one of his reserved nature, seemed a hardly naturalinsistence. "I could well have been spared the experience. A tragedywith which one has been even thus remotely connected produces a lastingeffect upon the mind. "

"Oh yes, oh yes!" I murmured, edging involuntarily toward the door. DidI not know? Had I not been there, too; I, little I, whom he stood gazingdown upon from such a height, little realizing the fatality which unitedus and, what was even a more overwhelming thought to me at the moment, the fact that of all persons in the world the shrinking little being, into whose eyes he was then looking, was, perhaps, his greatest enemyand the one person, great or small, from whom he had the most to fear. 

But I was no enemy to his gentle daughter and the relief I felt atfinding myself thus cut off by my own promise from even the remotestcommunication with her on this forbidden subject was genuine andsincere. 

But the father! What was I to think of the father? Alas! I could havebut one thought, admirable as he appeared in all lights save the one inwhich his too evident connection with this crime had placed him. I spentthe hours of the afternoon in alternately watching the sleeping faceof my patient, too sweetly calm in its repose, or so it seemed, for themind beneath to harbor such doubts as were shown in the warning I hadascribed to her, and vain efforts to explain by any other hypothesisthan that of guilt, the extraordinary evidence which linked this man ofgreat affairs and the loftiest repute to a crime involving both theftand murder. 

Nor did the struggle end that night. It was renewed with still greaterpositiveness the next day, as I witnessed the glances which from time totime passed between this father and daughter, --glances full of doubt andquestion on both sides, but not exactly such doubt or such question asmy suspicions called for. Or so I thought, and spent another day or twohesitating very much over my duty, when, coming unexpectedly uponMr. Grey one evening, I felt all my doubts revive in view of theextraordinary expression of dread--I might with still greater truthsay fear--which informed his features and made them, to my unaccustomedeyes, almost unrecognizable. 

He was sitting at his desk in reverie over some papers which he seemednot to have touched for hours, and when, at some movement I made, hestarted up and met my eye, I could swear that his cheek was pale, thefirm carriage of his body shaken, and the whole man a victim to somestrong and secret apprehension he vainly sought to hide, when Iventured to tell him what I wanted, he made an effort and pulled himselftogether, but I had seen him with his mask off, and his usually calmvisage and self-possessed mien could not again deceive me. 

My duties kept me mainly at Miss Grey's bedside, but I had been providedwith a little room across the hall, and to this room I retired very soonafter this, for rest and a necessary understanding with myself. 

For, in spite of this experience and my now settled convictions, my purpose required whetting. The indescribable charm, the extremerefinement and nobility of manner observable in both Mr. Grey andhis daughter were producing their effect. I felt guilty; constrained. Whatever my convictions, the impetus to act was leaving me. How couldI recover it? By thinking of Anson Durand and his present disgracefulposition. 

Anson Durand! Oh, how the feeling surged up in my breast as that nameslipped from my lips on crossing the threshold of my little room! AnsonDurand, whom I believed innocent, whom I loved, but whom I was betrayingwith every moment of hesitation in which I allowed myself to indulge!what if the Honorable Mr. Grey is an eminent statesman, a dignified, scholarly, and to all appearance, high-minded man? what if my patient issweet, dove-eyed and affectionate? Had not Anson qualities as excellentin their way, rights as certain, and a hold upon myself superior to anyclaims which another might advance? Drawing a much-crumpled little notefrom my pocket, I eagerly read it. It was the only one I had of hiswriting, the only letter he had ever written me. I had already re-readit a hundred times, but as I once more repeated to myself its well-knownlines, I felt my heart grow strong and fixed in the determination whichhad brought me into this family. 

Restoring the letter to its place, I opened my gripsack and from itsinmost recesses drew forth an object which I had no sooner in hand thana natural sense of disquietude led me to glance apprehensively, first atthe door, then at the window, though I had locked the one and shaded theother. It seemed as if some other eye besides my own must be gazing atwhat I held so gingerly in hand; that the walls were watching me, ifnothing else, and the sensation this produced was so exactly like thatof guilt (or what I imagined to be guilt), that I was forced to repeatonce more to myself that it was not a good man's overthrow I sought, oreven a bad man's immunity from punishment, but the truth, the absolutetruth. No shame could equal that which I should feel if, by anyover-delicacy now, I failed to save the man who trusted me. 

The article which I held--have you guessed it?--was the stiletto withwhich Mrs. Fairbrother had been killed. It had been intrusted to me bythe police for a definite purpose. The time for testing that purposehad come, or so nearly come, that I felt I must be thinking about thenecessary ways and means. 

Unwinding the folds of tissue paper in which the stiletto was wrapped, I scrutinized the weapon very carefully. Hitherto, I had seen onlypictures of it, now, I had the article itself in my hand. It was nota natural one for a young woman to hold, a woman whose taste ran moretoward healing than inflicting wounds, but I forced myself to forget whythe end of its blade was rusty, and looked mainly at the devices whichornamented the handle. I had not been mistaken in them. They belonged tothe house of Grey, and to none other. It was a legitimate inquiry Ihad undertaken. However the matter ended, I should always have thesehistoric devices for my excuse. 

My plan was to lay this dagger on Mr. Grey's desk at a moment whenhe would be sure to see it and I to see him. If he betrayed a guiltyknowledge of this fatal steel; if, unconscious of my presence, he showedsurprise and apprehension, --then we should know how to proceed; justicewould be loosed from constraint and the police feel at liberty toapproach him. It was a delicate task, this. I realized how delicate, when I had thrust the stiletto out of sight under my nurse's apron andstarted to cross the hall. Should I find the library clear? Would theopportunity be given me to approach his desk, or should I have to carrythis guilty witness of a world-famous crime on into Miss Grey's room, and with its unholy outline pressing a semblance of itself upon mybreast, sit at that innocent pillow, meet those innocent eyes, andanswer the gentle inquiries which now and then fell from the sweetestlips I have ever seen smile into the face of a lonely, preoccupiedstranger?

The arrangement of the rooms was such as made it necessary for me topass through this sitting-room in order to reach my patient's bedroom. 

With careful tread, so timed as not to appear stealthy, I accordinglyadvanced and pushed open the door. The room was empty. Mr. Grey wasstill with his daughter and I could cross the floor without fear. Butnever had I entered upon a task requiring more courage or one moreobnoxious to my natural instincts. I hated each step I took, but I lovedthe man for whom I took those steps, and moved resolutely on. Only, as Ireached the chair in which Mr. Grey was accustomed to sit, I found thatit was easier to plan an action than to carry it out. Home life and thedomestic virtues had always appealed to me more than a man's greatness. The position which this man held in his own country, his usefulnessthere, even his prestige as statesman and scholar, were facts, but verydreamy facts, to me, while his feelings as a father, the place heheld in his daughter's heart--these were real to me, these I couldunderstand; and it was of these and not of his place as a man, that thishis favorite seat spoke to me. How often had I beheld him sit by thehour with his eye on the door behind which his one darling lay ill! Evennow, it was easy for me to recall his face as I had sometimes caught aglimpse of it through the crack of the suddenly opened door, and I feltmy breast heave and my hand falter as I drew forth the stiletto andmoved to place it where his eye would fall upon it on his leaving hisdaughter's bedside. 

But my hand returned quickly to my breast and fell hack again empty. Apile of letters lay before me on the open lid of the desk. The top onewas addressed to me with the word "Important" written in the corner. Idid not know the writing, but I felt that I should open and read thisletter before committing myself or those who stood back of me to thisdesperate undertaking. 

Glancing behind me and seeing that the door into Miss Grey's room wasajar, I caught up this letter and rushed with it back into my own room. As I surmised, it was from the inspector, and as I read it I realizedthat I had received it not one moment too soon. In language purposelynon-committal, but of a meaning not to be mistaken, it advised methat some unforeseen facts had come to light which altered all formersuspicions and made the little surprise I had planned no longernecessary. 

There was no allusion to Mr. Durand but the final sentence ran:

"Drop all care and give your undivided attention to your patient. "

XIII. THE MISSING RECOMMENDATION

My patient slept that night, but I did not. The shock given by thissudden cry of Halt! at the very moment I was about to make my greatmove, the uncertainty as to what it meant and my doubt of its effectupon Mr. Durand's position, put me on the anxious seat and kept mythoughts fully occupied till morning. 

I was very tired and must have shown it, when, with the first rays of avery meager sun, Miss Grey softly unclosed her eyes and found me lookingat her, for her smile had a sweet compassion in it, and she said as shepressed my hand:

"You must have watched me all night. I never saw any one look sotired, --or so good, " she softly finished. 

I had rather she had not uttered that last phrase. It did not fit meat the moment, --did not fit me, perhaps, at any time. Good! I! when mythoughts had not been with her, but with Mr. Durand; when the dominatingfeeling in my breast was not that of relief, but a vague regret that Ihad not been allowed to make my great test and so establish, to my ownsatisfaction, at least, the perfect innocence of my lover even at thecost of untold anguish to this confiding girl upon whose gentle spiritthe very thought of crime would cast a deadly blight. 

I must have flushed; certainly I showed some embarrassment, for her eyesbrightened with shy laughter as she whispered:

"You do not like to be praised, --another of your virtues. You have toomany. I have only one--I love my friends. "

She did. One could see that love was life to her. 

For an instant I trembled. How near I had been to wrecking thisgentle soul! Was she safe yet? I was not sure. My own doubts were notsatisfied. I awaited the papers with feverish impatience. They shouldcontain news. News of what? Ah, that was the question!

"You will let me see my mail this morning, will you not?" she asked, asI busied myself about her. 

"That is for the doctor to say, " I smiled. "You are certainly betterthis morning. "

"It is so hard for me not to be able to read his letters, or to write aword to relieve his anxiety. "

Thus she told me her heart's secret, and unconsciously added anotherburden to my already too heavy load. 

I was on my way to give some orders about my patient's breakfast, whenMr. Grey came into the sitting-room and met me face to face. He had anewspaper in his hand and my heart stood still as I noted his alteredlooks and disturbed manner. Were these due to anything he had found inthose columns? It was with difficulty that I kept my eyes from the paperwhich he held in such a manner as to disclose its glaring head-lines. These I dared not read with his eyes fixed on mine. 

"How is Miss Grey? How is my daughter?" he asked in great haste anduneasiness. "Is she better this morning, or--worse?"

"Better, " I assured him, and was greatly astonished to see his browinstantly clear. 

"Really?" he asked. "You really consider her better? The doctors sayso' but I have not very much faith in doctors in a case like this, " headded. 

"I have seen no reason to distrust them, " I protested. "Miss Grey'sillness, while severe, does not appear to be of an alarming nature. Butthen I have had very little experience out of the hospital. I am youngyet, Mr. Grey. "

He looked as if he quite agreed with me in this estimate of myself, and, with a brow still clouded, passed into his daughter's room, the paperin his hand. Before I joined them I found and scanned another journal. Expecting great things, I was both surprised and disappointed to findonly a small paragraph devoted to the Fairbrother case. In this it wasstated that the authorities hoped for new light on this mystery as soonas they had located a certain witness, whose connection with thecrime they had just discovered. No more, no less than was containedin Inspector Dalzell's letter. How could I bear it, --the suspense, thedoubt, --and do my duty to my patient! Happily, I had no choice. I hadbeen adjudged equal to this business and I must prove myself to be so. Perhaps my courage would revive after I had had my breakfast;perhaps then I should be able to fix upon the identity of the newwitness, --something which I found myself incapable of at this moment. 

These thoughts were on my mind as I crossed the rooms on my way backto Miss Grey's bedside. By the time I reached her door I was outwardlycalm, as her first words showed:

"Oh, the cheerful smile! It makes me feel better in spite of myself. "

If she could have seen into my heart!

Mr. Grey, who was leaning over the foot of the bed, cast me a quickglance which was not without its suspicion. Had he detected me playing apart, or were such doubts as he displayed the product simply of his ownuneasiness? I was not able to decide, and, with this unanswered questionadded to the number already troubling me, I was forced to face the daywhich, for aught I knew, might be the precursor of many others equallytrying and unsatisfactory. 

But help was near. Before noon I received a message from my uncle to theeffect that if I could be spared he would be glad to see me at his homeas near three o'clock as possible. What could he want of me? I couldnot guess, and it was with great inner perturbation that, having won Mr. Grey's permission, I responded to his summons. 

I found my uncle awaiting me in a carriage before his own door, andI took my seat at his side without the least idea of his purpose. I supposed that he had planned this ride that he might talk to meunreservedly and without fear of interruption. But I soon saw that hehad some very different object in view, for not only did he start downtown instead of up, but his conversation, such as it was, confineditself to generalities and studiously avoided the one topic of supremeinterest to us both. 

At last, as we turned into Bleecker Street, I let my astonishment andperplexity appear. 

"Where are we bound?" I asked. "It can not be that you are taking me tosee Mr. Durand?"

"No, " said he, and said no more. 

"Ah, Police Headquarters!" I faltered as the carriage made another turnand drew up before a building I had reason to remember. "Uncle, what amI to do here?"

"See a friend, " he answered, as he helped me to alight. Then as Ifollowed him in some bewilderment, he whispered in my ear: "InspectorDalzell. He wants a few minutes conversation with you. "

Oh, the weight which fell from my shoulders at these words! I was tohear, then, what had intervened between me and my purpose. The wearingnight I had anticipated was to be lightened with some small spark ofknowledge. I had confidence enough in the kind-hearted inspector to besure of that. I caught at my uncle's arm and squeezed it delightedly, quite oblivious of the curious glances I must have received from thevarious officials we passed on our way to the inspector's office. 

We found him waiting for us, and I experienced such pleasure at sight ofhis kind and earnest face that I hardly noticed uncle's sly retreat tillthe door closed behind him. 

"Oh, Inspector, what has happened?" I impetuously exclaimed in answerto his greeting. "Something that will help Mr. Durand without disturbingMr. Grey--have you as good news for me as that?"

"Hardly, " he answered, moving up a chair and seating me in it with afatherly air which, under the circumstances, was more discouraging thanconsolatory. "We have simply heard of a new witness, or rather a facthas come to light which has turned our inquiries into a new direction. "

"And--and--you can not tell me what this fact is?" I faltered as heshowed no intention of adding anything to this very unsatisfactoryexplanation. 

"I should not, but you were willing to do so much for us I must setaside my principles a little and do something for you. After all, it isonly forestalling the reporters by a day. Miss Van Arsdale, this is thestory: Yesterday morning a man was shown into this room, and said thathe had information to give which might possibly prove to have somebearing on the Fairbrother case. I had seen the man before andrecognized him at the first glance as one of the witnesses who made theinquest unnecessarily tedious. Do you remember Jones, the caterer, who had only two or three facts to give and yet who used up the wholeafternoon in trying to state those facts?"

"I do, indeed, " I answered. 

"Well, he was the man, and I own that I was none too delighted to seehim. But he was more at his ease with me than I expected, and I soonlearned what he had to tell. It was this: One of his men had suddenlyleft him, one of his very best men, one of those who had been with himin the capacity of waiter at the Ramsdell ball. It was not uncommon forhis men to leave him, but they usually gave notice. This man gave nonotice; he simply did not show up at the usual hour. This was a weekor two ago. Jones, having a liking for the man, who was an excellentwaiter, sent a messenger to his lodging-house to see if he were ill. But he had left his lodgings with as little ceremony as he had left thecaterer. 

"This, under ordinary circumstances, would have ended the business, butthere being some great function in prospect, Jones did not feel likelosing so good a man without making an effort to recover him, so helooked up his references in the hope of obtaining some clue to hispresent whereabouts. 

"He kept all such matters in a special book and expected to have notrouble in finding the man's name, James Wellgood, or that of his formeremployer But when he came to consult this book, he was astonished tofind that nothing was recorded against this man's name but the date ofhis first employment--March 15. 

"Had he hired him without a recommendation? He would not be likely to, yet the page was clear of all reference; only the name and the date. But the date! You have already noted its significance, and later he did, too. The day of the Ramsdell ball! The day of the great murder! Ashe recalled the incidents of that day he understood why the record ofWellgood's name was unaccompanied by the usual reference. It had beena difficult day all round. The function was an important one, and theweather bad. There was, besides, an unusual shortage in his number ofassistants. Two men had that very morning been laid up with sickness, and when this able-looking, self-confident Wellgood presented himselffor immediate employment, he took him out of hand with the merestglance at what looked like a very satisfactory reference. Later, hehad intended to look up this reference, which he had been careful topreserve by sticking it, along with other papers, on his spike-file. Butin the distractions following the untoward events of the evening, he hadneglected to do so, feeling perfectly satisfied with the man's work andgeneral behavior. Now it was a different thing. The man had lefthim summarily, and he felt impelled to hunt up the person who hadrecommended him and see whether this was the first time that Wellgoodhad repaid good treatment with bad. Running through the papers withwhich his file was now full, he found that the one he sought was notthere. This roused him in good earnest, for he was certain that he hadnot removed it himself and there was no one else who had the right to doso. He suspected the culprit, --a young lad who occasionally had accessto his desk. But this boy was no longer in the office. He had dismissedhim for some petty fault the previous week, and it took him several daysto find him again. Meantime his anger grew and when he finally came faceto face with the lad, he accused him of the suspected trick with so muchvehemence that the inevitable happened, and the boy confessed. This iswhat he acknowledged. He had taken the reference off the file, but onlyto give it to Wellgood himself, who had offered him money for it. Whenasked how much money, the boy admitted that the sum was ten dollars, --anextraordinary amount from a poor man for so simple a service, if the manmerely wished to secure his reference for future use; so extraordinarythat Mr. Jones grew more and more pertinent in his inquiries, elicitingfinally what he surely could not have hoped for in the beginning, --theexact address of the party referred to in the paper he had stolen, andwhich, for some reason, the boy remembered. It was an uptown address, and, as soon as the caterer could leave his business, he took theelevated and proceeded to the specified street and number. 

"Miss Van Arsdale, a surprise awaited him, and awaited us when he toldthe result of his search. The name attached to the recommendation hadbeen--'Hiram Sears, Steward. ' He did not know of any such man--perhapsyou do--but when he reached the house from which the recommendation wasdated, he saw that it was one of the great houses of New York, thoughhe could not at the instant remember who lived there. But he soon foundout. The first passer-by told him. Miss Van Arsdale, perhaps you can dothe same. The number was--Eighty-sixth Street. "

"--!" I repeated, quite aghast. "Why, Mr. Fairbrother himself! Thehusband of--"

"Exactly so, and Hiram Sears, whose name you may have heard mentioned atthe inquest, though for a very good reason he was not there in person, is his steward and general factotum. "

"Oh! and it was he who recommended Wellgood?"

"Yes. "

"And did Mr. Jones see him?"

"No. The house, you remember, is closed. Mr. Fairbrother, on leavingtown, gave his servants a vacation. His steward he took with him, --thatis, they started together. But we hear no mention made of him inour telegrams from Santa Fe. He does not seem to have followed Mr. Fairbrother into the mountains. "

"You say that in a peculiar way, " I remarked. 

"Because it has struck us peculiarly. Where is Sears now? And why didhe not go on with Mr. Fairbrother when he left home with every apparentintention of accompanying him to the Placide mine? Miss Van Arsdale, wewere impressed with this fact when we heard of Mr. Fairbrother's lonelytrip from where he was taken ill to his mine outside of Santa Fe; but wehave only given it its due importance since hearing what has come to usto-day. 

"Miss Van Arsdale, " continued the inspector, as I looked up quickly, "Iam going to show great confidence in you. I am going to tell you whatour men have learned about this Sears. As I have said before, it is butforestalling the reporters by a day, and it may help you to understandwhy I sent you such peremptory orders to stop, when your whole heart wasfixed on an attempt by which you hoped to right Mr. Durand. We can notafford to disturb so distinguished a person as the one you have underyour eye, while the least hope remains of fixing this crime elsewhere. And we have such hope. This man, this Sears, is by no means the simplecharacter one would expect from his position. Considering the short timewe have had (it was only yesterday that Jones found his way into thisoffice), we have unearthed some very interesting facts in his regard. His devotion to Mr. Fairbrother was never any secret, and we knew asmuch about that the day after the murder as we do now. But thefeelings with which he regarded Mrs. Fairbrother--well, that is anotherthing--and it was not till last night we heard that the attachment whichbound him to her was of the sort which takes no account of youth or age, fitness or unfitness. He was no Adonis, and old enough, we are told, tobe her father; but for all that we have already found several personswho can tell strange stories of the persistence with which his eagerold eyes would follow her whenever chance threw them together during thetime she remained under her husband's roof; and others who relate, witheven more avidity, how, after her removal to apartments of her own, heused to spend hours in the adjoining park just to catch a glimpse of herfigure as she crossed the sidewalk on her way to and from her carriage. Indeed, his senseless, almost senile passion for this magnificent beautybecame a by-word in some mouths, and it only escaped being mentioned atthe inquest from respect to Mr. Fairbrother, who had never recognizedthis weakness in his steward, and from its lack of visible connectionwith her horrible death and the stealing of her great jewel. Nevertheless, we have a witness now--it is astonishing how manywitnesses we can scare up by a little effort, who never thought ofcoming forward themselves--who can swear to having seen him one nightshaking his fist at her retreating figure as she stepped haughtily byhim into her apartment house. This witness is sure that the man hesaw thus gesticulating was Sears, and he is sure the woman was Mrs. Fairbrother. The only thing he is not sure of is how his own wife willfeel when she hears that he was in that particular neighborhood onthat particular evening, when he was evidently supposed to be somewhereelse. " And the inspector laughed. 

"Is the steward's disposition a bad one. " I asked, "that this display offeeling should impress you so much?"

"I don't know what to say about that yet. Opinions differ on this point. His friends speak of him as the mildest kind of a man who, withoutnative executive skill, could not manage the great household he has incharge. His enemies, and we have unearthed a few, say, on the contrary, that they have never had any confidence in his quiet ways; that thesewere not in keeping with the fact or his having been a California minerin the early fifties. 

"You can see I am putting you very nearly where we are ourselves. Nordo I see why I should not add that this passion of the seemingly subduedbut really hot-headed steward for a woman, who never showed him anythingbut what he might call an insulting indifference, struck us as a clue tobe worked up, especially after we received this answer to a telegram wesent late last night to the nurse who is caring for Mr. Fairbrother inNew Mexico. "

He handed me a small yellow slip and I read:

"The steward left Mr. Fairbrother at El Moro. He has not heard from himsince. 

"ANNETTA LA SERRA

"For Abner Fairbrother. "

"At El Moro?" I cried. "Why, that was long enough ago. "

"For him to have reached New York before the murder. Exactly so, if hetook advantage of every close connection. "

XIV. TRAPPED

I caught my breath sharply. I did not say anything. I felt that I didnot understand the inspector sufficiently yet to speak. He seemed to bepleased with my reticence. At all events, his manner grew even kinder ashe said:

"This Sears is a witness we must have. He is being looked for now, highand low, and we hope to get some clue to his whereabouts before night. That is, if he is in this city. Meanwhile, we are all glad--I am sureyou are also--to spare so distinguished a gentleman as Mr. Grey theslightest annoyance. "

"And Mr. Durand? What of him in this interim?"

"He will have to await developments. I see no other way, my dear. "

It was kindly said, but my head drooped. This waiting was what waskilling him and killing me. The inspector saw and gently patted my hand. 

"Come, " said he, "you have head enough to see that it is never wiseto force matters. " Then, possibly with an intention of rousing me, he remarked: "There is another small fact which may interest you. Itconcerns the waiter, Wellgood, recommended, as you will remember, bythis Sears. In my talk with Jones it leaked out as a matter of smallmoment, and so it was to him, that this Wellgood was the waiter who ranand picked up the diamond after it fell from Mr. Grey's hand. "

"Ah!"

"This may mean nothing--it meant nothing to Jones--but I inform you ofit because there is a question I want to put to you in this connection. You smile. "

"Did I?" I meekly answered. "I do not know why. "

This was not true. I had been waiting to see why the inspector had sohonored me with all these disclosures, almost with his thoughts. Now Isaw. He desired something in return. 

"You were on the scene at this very moment, " he proceeded, after abrief contemplation of my face, "and you must have seen this man whenhe lifted the jewel and handed it back to Mr. Grey. Did you remark hisfeatures?"

"No, sir; I was too far off; besides, my eyes were on Mr. Grey. " "Thatis a pity. I was in hopes you could satisfy me on a very importantpoint. "

"What point is that, Inspector Dalzell?"

"Whether he answered the following description. " And, taking up anotherpaper, he was about to read it aloud to me, when an interruptionoccurred. A man showed himself at the door, whom the inspector no soonerrecognized than he seemed to forget me in his eagerness to interrogatehim. Perhaps the appearance of the latter had something to do with it;he looked as if he had been running, or had been the victim of someextraordinary adventure. At all events, the inspector arose as heentered, and was about to question him when he remembered me, and, casting about for some means of ridding himself of my presence withoutinjury to my feelings, he suddenly pushed open the door of an adjoiningroom and requested me to step inside while he talked a moment with thisman. 

Of course I went, but I cast him an appealing look as I did so. Itevidently had its effect, for his expression changed as his band fell onthe doorknob. Would he snap the lock tight, and so shut me out from whatconcerned me as much as it did any one in the whole world? Or wouldhe recognize my anxiety--the necessity I was under of knowing just theground I was standing on--and let me hear what this man had to report?

I watched the door. It closed slowly, too slowly to latch. Would hecatch it anew by the knob? No; he left it thus, and, while the crack washardly perceptible, I felt confident that the least shake of the floorwould widen it and give me the opportunity I sought. But I did not haveto wait for this. The two men in the office I had just left began tospeak, and to my unbounded relief were sufficiently intelligible, evennow, to warrant me in giving them my fullest attention. 

After some expressions of astonishment on the part of the inspector asto the plight in which the other presented himself, the latter brokeout:

"I've just escaped death! I'll tell you about that later. What I want totell you now is that the man we want is in town. I saw him lastnight, or his shadow, which is the same thing. It was in the house inEighty-sixth Street, --the house they all think closed. He came in with akey and--"

"Wait! You have him?"

"No. It's a long story, sir--"

"Tell it!"

The tone was dry. The inspector was evidently disappointed. 

"Don't blame me till you hear, " said the other. "He is no common crook. This is how it was: You wanted the suspect's photograph and a specimenof his writing. I knew no better place to look for them than in his ownroom in Mr. Fairbrother's house. I accordingly got the necessary warrantand late last evening undertook the job. I went alone I was always anegotistical chap, more's the pity--and with no further precaution thana passing explanation to the officer I met at the corner, I hastened upthe block to the rear entrance on Eighty-seventh Street. There arethree doors to the Fairbrother house, as you probably know. Two onEighty-sixth Street (the large front one and a small one connectingdirectly with the turret stairs), and one on Eighty-seventh Street. Itwas to the latter I had a key. I do not think any one saw me go in. Itwas raining, and such people as went by were more concerned in keepingtheir umbrellas properly over their heads than in watching men skulkingabout in doorways. 

"I got in, then, all right, and, being careful to close the door behindme, went up the first short flight of steps to what I knew must be themain hall. I had been given a plan of the interior, and I had studied itmore or less before starting out, but I knew that I should get lost ifI did not keep to the rear staircase, at the top of which I expected tofind the steward's room. There was a faint light in the house, in spiteof its closed shutters and tightly-drawn shades; and, having a certaindread of using my torch, knowing my weakness for pretty things and howhard it would be for me to pass so many fine rooms without looking in, I made my way up stairs, with no other guide than the hand-rail. When Ihad reached what I took to be the third floor I stopped. Finding it verydark, I first listened--a natural instinct with us--then I lit up andlooked about me. 

"I was in a large hall, empty as a vault and almost as desolate. Blank doors met my eyes in all directions, with here and there an openpassageway. I felt myself in a maze. I had no idea which was the door Isought, and it is not pleasant to turn unaccustomed knobs in a shut-uphouse at midnight, with the rain pouring in torrents and the wind makingpandemonium in a half-dozen great chimneys. 

"But it had to be done, and I went at it in regular order till I cameto a little narrow one opening on the turret-stair. This gave me mybearings. Sears' room adjoined the staircase. There was no difficulty inspotting the exact door now and, merely stopping to close the opening Ihad made to this little staircase, I crossed to this door and flung itopen. I had been right in my calculations. It was the steward's room, and I made at once for the desk. "

"And you found--?"

"Mostly locked drawers. But a key on my bunch opened some of these andmy knife the rest. Here are the specimens of his handwriting whichI collected. I doubt if you will get much out of them. I saw nothingcompromising in the whole room, but then I hadn't time to go throughhis trunks, and one of them looked very interesting, --old as the hillsand--"

"You hadn't time? Why hadn't you time? What happened to cut it short?"

"Well, sir, I'll tell you. " The tone in which this was said roused meif it did not the inspector. "I had just come from the desk which haddisappointed me, and was casting a look about the room, which wasas bare as my hand of everything like ornament--I might almost saycomfort--when I heard a noise which was not that of swishing rain oreven gusty wind--these had not been absent from my ears for a moment. Ididn't like that noise; it had a sneakish sound, and I shut my light offin a hurry. After that I crept hastily out of the room, for I don't likea set-to in a trap. 

"It was darker than ever now in the hall, or so it seemed, and as Ibacked away I came upon a jog in the wall, behind which I crept. Forthe sound I had heard was no fancy. Some one besides myself was in thehouse, and that some one was coming up the little turret-stair, strikingmatches as he approached. Who could it be? A detective from the districtattorney's office? I hardly thought so. He would have been provided withsomething better than matches to light his way. A burglar? No, not onthe third floor of a house as rich as this. Some fellow on the force, then, who had seen me come in and, by some trick of his own, had managedto follow me? I would see. Meantime I kept my place behind the jog andwatched, not knowing which way the intruder would go. 

"Whoever he was, he was evidently astonished to see the turret doorajar, for he lit another match as he threw it open and, though I failedto get a glimpse of his figure, I succeeded in getting a very good oneof his shadow. It was one to arouse a detective's instinct at once. Idid not say to myself, this is the man I want, but I did say, this isnobody from headquarters, and I steadied myself for whatever might turnup. 

"The first thing that happened was the sudden going out of the matchwhich had made this shadow visible. The intruder did not light another. I heard him move across the floor with the rapid step of one who knowshis way well, and the next minute a gas-jet flared up in the steward'sroom, and I knew that the man the whole force was looking for hadtrapped himself. 

"You will agree that it was not my duty to take him then and therewithout seeing what he was after. He was thought to be in the easternstates, or south or west, and he was here; but why here? That is whatI knew you would want to know, and it was just what I wanted to knowmyself. So I kept my place, which was good enough, and just listened, for I could not see. 

"What was his errand? What did he want in this empty house at midnight?Papers first, and then clothes. I heard him at his desk, I heard himin the closet, and afterward pottering in the old trunk I had been soanxious to look into myself. He must have brought the key with him, forit was no time before I heard him throwing out the contents in a wildsearch for something he wanted in a great hurry. He found it sooner thanyou would believe, and began throwing the things back, when somethinghappened. Expectedly or unexpectedly, his eye fell on some object whichroused all his passions, and he broke into loud exclamations ending ingroans. Finally he fell to kissing this object with a fervor suggestingrage, and a rage suggesting tenderness carried to the point of agony. Ihave never heard the like; my curiosity was so aroused that I was on thepoint of risking everything for a look, when he gave a sudden snarl andcried out, loud enough for me to hear: 'Kiss what I've hated? That is asbad as to kill what I've loved. ' Those were the words. I am sure he saidkiss and I am sure he said kill. "

"This is very interesting. Go on with your story. Why didn't you collarhim while he was in this mood? You would have won by the surprise. 

"I had no pistol, sir, and he had. I heard him cock it. I thought hewas going to take his own life, and held my breath for the report. Butnothing like that was in his mind. Instead, he laid the pistol down anddeliberately tore in two the object of his anger. Then with a smotheredcurse he made for the door and turret staircase. 

"I was for following, but not till I had seen what he had destroyed insuch an excess of feeling. I thought I knew, but I wanted to feel sure. So, before risking myself in the turret, I crept to the room he had leftand felt about on the floor till I came upon these. "

"A torn photograph! Mrs. Fairbrother's!"

"Yes. Have you not heard how he loved her? A foolish passion, butevidently sincere and--"

"Never mind comments, Sweetwater. Stick to facts. "

"I will, sir. They are interesting enough. After I had picked up thesescraps I stole back to the turret staircase. And here I made my firstbreak. I stumbled in the darkness, and the man below heard me, for thepistol clicked again. I did not like this, and had some thoughts ofbacking out of my job. But I didn't. I merely waited till I heard hisstep again; then I followed. 

"But very warily this time. It was not an agreeable venture. It was likedescending into a well with possible death at the bottom. I could seenothing and presently could hear nothing but the almost imperceptiblesliding of my own fingers down the curve of the wall, which was all Ihad to guide me. Had he stopped midway, and would my first intimation ofhis presence be the touch of cold steel or the flinging around me oftwo murderous arms? I had met with no break in the smooth surface ofthe wall, so could not have reached the second story. When I should getthere the question would be whether to leave the staircase and seek himin the mazes of its great rooms, or to keep on down to the parlor floorand so to the street, whither he was possibly bound. I own that Iwas almost tempted to turn on my light and have done with it, but Iremembered of how little use I should be to you lying in this well of astairway with a bullet in me, and so I managed to compose myself and goon as I had begun. Next instant my fingers slipped round the edge of anopening, and I knew that the moment of decision had come. Realizing thatno one can move so softly that he will not give away his presence insome way, I paused for the sound which I knew must come, and when aclick rose from the depths of the hall before me I plunged into thathall and thus into the house proper. 

"Here it was not so dark; yet I could make out none of the objects I nowand then ran against. I passed a mirror (I hardly know how I knew it tobe such), and in that mirror I seemed to see the ghost of a ghost flitby and vanish. It was too much. I muttered a suppressed oath and plungedforward, when I struck against a closing door. It flew open again and Irushed in, turning on my light in my extreme desperation, when, insteadof hearing the sharp report of a pistol, as I expected, I saw a seconddoor fall to before me, this time with a sound like the snap of a springlock. Finding that this was so, and that all advance was barred thatway, I wheeled hurriedly back toward the door by which I had entered theplace, to find that that had fallen to simultaneously with the other, a single spring acting for both. I was trapped--a prisoner in thestrangest sort of passageway or closet; and, as a speedy look aboutpresently assured me, a prisoner with very little hope of immediateescape, for the doors were not only immovable, without even locks topick or panels to break in, but the place was bare of windows, and theonly communication which it could be said to have with the outside worldat all was a shaft rising from the ceiling almost to the top of thehouse. Whether this served as a ventilator, or a means of lighting upthe hole when both doors were shut, it was much too inaccessible tooffer any apparent way of escape. 

"Never was a man more thoroughly boxed in. As I realized how littlechance there was of any outside interference, how my captor, even if hewas seen leaving the house by the officer on duty, would be takenfor myself and so allowed to escape, I own that I felt my position ahopeless one. But anger is a powerful stimulant, and I was mortallyangry, not only with Sears, but with myself. So when I was done swearingI took another look around, and, finding that there was no gettingthrough the walls, turned my attention wholly to the shaft, which wouldcertainly lead me out of the place if I could only find means to mountit. 

"And how do you think I managed to do this at last? A look at mybedraggled, lime-covered clothes may give you some idea. I cut a passagefor myself up those perpendicular walls as the boy did up the face ofthe natural bridge in Virginia. Do you remember that old story in theReader? It came to me like an inspiration as I stood looking up frombelow, and though I knew that I should have to work most of the way inperfect darkness, I decided that a man's life was worth some risk, andthat I had rather fall and break my neck while doing something than tospend hours in maddening inactivity, only to face death at last fromslow starvation. 

"I had a knife, an exceedingly good knife, in my pocket--and for thefirst few steps I should have the light of my electric torch. Thedifficulty (that is, the first difficulty) was to reach the shaft fromthe floor where I stood. There was but one article of furniture in theroom, and that was something between a table and a desk. No chairs, and the desk was not high enough to enable me to reach the mouth of theshaft. If I could turn it on end there might be some hope. But this didnot look feasible. However, I threw off my coat and went at the thingwith a vengeance, and whether I was given superhuman power or whetherthe clumsy thing was not as heavy as it looked, I did finally succeed inturning it on its end close under the opening from which the shaft rose. The next thing was to get on its top. That seemed about as impossibleas climbing the bare wall itself, but presently I bethought me of thedrawers, and, though they were locked, I did succeed by the aid of mykeys to get enough of them open to make for myself a very good pair ofstairs. 

"I could now see my way to the mouth of the shaft, but after that!Taking out my knife, I felt the edge. It was a good one, so was thepoint, but was it good enough to work holes in plaster? It dependedsomewhat upon the plaster. Had the masons, in finishing that shaft, any thought of the poor wretch who one day would have to pit his lifeagainst the hardness of the final covering? My first dig at it wouldtell. I own I trembled violently at the prospect of what that first testwould mean to me, and wondered if the perspiration which I felt startingat every pore was the result of the effort I had been engaged in or justplain fear. 

"Inspector, I do not intend to have you live with me through the fivemortal hours which followed. I was enabled to pierce that plaster withmy knife, and even to penetrate deep enough to afford a place for thetips of my fingers and afterward for the point of my toes, digging, prying, sweating, panting, listening, first for a sudden opening of thedoors beneath, then for some shout or wicked interference from aboveas I worked my way up inch by inch, foot by foot, to what might not besafety after it was attained. 

"Five hours--six. Then I struck something which proved to be a window;and when I realized this and knew that with but one more effort I shouldbreathe freely again, I came as near falling as I had at any time beforeI began this terrible climb. 

"Happily, I had some premonition of my danger, and threw myself into aposition which held me till the dizzy minute passed. Then I went calmlyon with my work, and in another half-hour had reached the window, which, fortunately for me, not only opened inward, but was off the latch. Itwas with a sense of inexpressible relief that I clambered through thiswindow and for a brief moment breathed in the pungent odor of cedar. But it could have been only for a moment. It was three o'clock in theafternoon before I found myself again in the outer air. The only way Ican account for the lapse of time is that the strain to which both bodyand nerve had been subjected was too much for even my hardy body andthat I fell to the floor of the cedar closet and from a faint went intoa sleep that lasted until two. I can easily account for the last hourbecause it took me that long to cut the thick paneling from the doorof the closet. However, I am here now, sir, and in very much the samecondition in which I left that house. I thought my first duty was totell you that I had seen Hiram Sears in that house last night and putyou on his track. "

I drew a long breath, --I think the inspector did. I had been almostrigid from excitement, and I don't believe he was quite free from iteither. But his voice was calmer than I expected when he finally said:

"I'll remember this. It was a good night's work. " Then the inspector putto him some questions, which seemed to fix the fact that Sears had leftthe house before Sweetwater did, after which he bade him send certainmen to him and then go and fix himself up. 

I believe he had forgotten me. I had almost forgotten myself. 

XV. SEARS OR WELLGOOD

Not till the inspector had given several orders was I again summonedinto his presence. He smiled as our eyes met, but did not allude, anymore than I did, to what had just passed. Nevertheless, we understoodeach other. 

When I was again seated, he took up the conversation where we had leftit. 

"The description I was just about to read to you, " he went on; "will youlisten to it now?"

"Gladly, " said I; "it is Wellgood's, I believe. "

He did not answer save by a curious glance from under his brows, but, taking the paper again from his desk, went on reading:

"A man of fifty-five looking like one of sixty. Medium height, insignificant features, head bald save for a ring of scanty dark hair. No beard, a heavy nose, long mouth and sleepy half-shut eyes capable ofshooting strange glances. Nothing distinctive in face or figure savethe depth of his wrinkles and a scarcely observable stoop in his rightshoulder. Do you see Wellgood in that?" he suddenly asked. 

"I have only the faintest recollection of his appearance, " was mydoubtful reply. "But the impression I get from this description is notexactly the one I received of that waiter in the momentary glimpse I gotof him. "

"So others have told me before;" he remarked, looking very disappointed. "The description is of Sears given me by a man who knew him well, and ifwe could fit the description of the one to that of the other, we shouldhave it easy. But the few persons who have seen Wellgood differ greatlyin their remembrance of his features, and even of his coloring. It isastonishing how superficially most people see a man, even when they arethrown into daily contact with him. Mr. Jones says the man's eyes aregray, his hair a wig and dark, his nose pudgy, and his face without muchexpression. His land-lady, that his eyes are blue, his hair, whether wigor not, a dusty auburn, and his look quick and piercing, --a look whichalways made her afraid. His nose she don't remember. Both agree, orrather all agree, that he wore no beard--Sears did, but a beard canbe easily taken off--and all of them declare that they would know himinstantly if they saw him. And so the matter stands. Even you cangive me no definite description, --one, I mean, as satisfactory orunsatisfactory as this of Sears. "

I shook my head. Like the others, I felt that I should know him if I sawhim, but I could go no further than that. There seemed to be so littlethat was distinctive about the man. 

The inspector, hoping, perhaps, that all this would serve to rouse mymemory, shrugged his shoulders and put the best face he could on thematter. 

"Well, well, " said he, "we shall have to be patient. A day may make allthe difference possible in our outlook. If we can lay hands on either ofthese men--"

He seemed to realize he had said a word too much, for he instantlychanged the subject by asking if I had succeeded in getting a sample ofMiss Grey's writing. I was forced to say no; that everything had beenvery carefully put away. "But I do not know what moment I may come uponit, " I added. "I do not forget its importance in this investigation. "

"Very good. Those lines handed up to Mrs. Fairbrother from the walkoutside are the second most valuable clue we possess. "

I did not ask him what the first was. I knew. It was the stiletto. 

"Strange that no one has testified to that handwriting, " I remarked. 

He looked at me in surprise. 

"Fifty persons have sent in samples of writing which they think likeit, " he observed. "Often of persons who never heard of the Fairbrothers. We have been bothered greatly with the business. You know little of thedifficulties the police labor under. "

"I know too much, " I sighed. 

He smiled and patted me on the hand. 

"Go back to your patient, " he said. "Forget every other duty but that ofyour calling until you get some definite word from me. I shall not keepyou in suspense one minute longer than is absolutely necessary. "

He had risen. I rose too. But I was not satisfied. I could not leave theroom with my ideas (I might say with my convictions) in such a turmoil. 

"Inspector, " said I, "you will think me very obstinate, but all youhave told me about Sears, all I have heard about him, in fact, "--thisI emphasized, --"does not convince me of the entire folly of myown suspicions. Indeed, I am afraid that, if anything, they arestrengthened. This steward, who is a doubtful character, I acknowledge, may have had his reasons for wishing Mrs. Fairbrother's death, may evenhave had a hand in the matter; but what evidence have you to show thathe, himself, entered the alcove, struck the blow or stole the diamond?I have listened eagerly for some such evidence, but I have listened invain. "

"I know, " he murmured, "I know. But it will come; at least I think so. "

This should have reassured me, no doubt, and sent me away quiet andhappy. But something--the tenacity of a deep conviction, possibly--keptme lingering before the inspector and finally gave me the courage tosay:

"I know I ought not to speak another word; that I am putting myself ata disadvantage in doing so; but I can not help it, Inspector; I can nothelp it when I see you laying such stress upon the few indirect cluesconnecting the suspicious Sears with this crime, and ignoring the directclues we have against one whom we need not name. "

Had I gone too far? Had my presumption transgressed all bounds and wouldhe show a very natural anger? No, he smiled instead, an enigmaticalsmile, no doubt, which I found it difficult to understand, but yet asmile. 

"You mean, " he suggested, "that Sears' possible connection with thecrime can not eliminate Mr. Grey's very positive one; nor can the factthat Wellgood's hand came in contact with Mr. Grey's, at or near thetime of the exchange of the false stone with the real, make it any lessevident who was the guilty author of this exchange?"

The inspector's hand was on the door-knob, but he dropped it at this, and surveying me very quietly said:

"I thought that a few days spent at the bedside of Miss Grey in thesociety of so renowned and cultured a gentleman as her father woulddisabuse you of these damaging suspicions. "

"I don't wonder that you thought so, " I burst out. "You would thinkso all the more, if you knew how kind he can be and what solicitudehe shows for all about him. But I can not get over the facts. They allpoint, it seems to me, straight in one direction. "

"All? You heard what was said in this room--I saw it in your eye--howthe man, who surprised the steward in his own room last night, heard himtalking of love and death in connection with Mrs. Fairbrother. 'Tokiss what I hate! It is almost as bad as to kill what I love'--he saidsomething like that. "

"Yes, I heard that. But did he mean that he had been her actual slayer?Could you convict him on those words?"

"Well, we shall find out. Then, as to Wellgood's part in the littlebusiness, you choose to consider that it took place at the timethe stone fell from Mr. Grey's hand. What proof have you that thesubstitution you believe in was not made by him? He could easily havedone it while crossing the room to Mr. Grey's side. "

"Inspector!" Then hotly, as the absurdity of the suggestion struckme with full force: "He do this! A waiter, or as you think, Mr. Fairbrother's steward, to be provided with so hard-to-come-by an articleas this counterpart of a great stone? Isn't that almost as incredible asupposition as any I have myself presumed to advance?"

"Possibly, but the affair is full of incredibilities, the greatest ofwhich, to my mind, is the persistence with which you, a kind-heartedenough little woman, persevere in ascribing the deepest guilt to one youprofess to admire and certainly would be glad to find innocent of anycomplicity with a great crime. "

I felt that I must justify myself. 

"Mr. Durand has had no such consideration shown him, " said I. 

"I know, my child, I know; but the cases differ. Wouldn't it be well foryou to see this and be satisfied with the turn which things havetaken, without continuing to insist upon involving Mr. Grey in yoursuspicions?"

A smile took off the edge of this rebuke, yet I felt it keenly; andonly the confidence I had in his fairness as a man and public officialenabled me to say:

"But I am talking quite confidentially. And you have been so good to me, so willing to listen to all I had to say, that I can not help but speakmy whole mind. It is my only safety valve. Remember how I have to sit inthe presence of this man with my thoughts all choked up. It is killingme. But I think I should go back content if you will listen to one moresuggestion I have to make. It is my last. "

"Say it I am nothing if not indulgent. "

He had spoken the word. Indulgent, that was it. He let me speak, probably had let me speak from the first, from pure kindness. He did notbelieve one little bit in my good sense or logic. But I was not to bedeterred. I would empty my mind of the ugly thing that lay there. Iwould leave there no miserable dregs of doubt to ferment and work theirevil way with me in the dead watches of the night, which I had yet toface. So I took him at his word. 

"I only want to ask this. In case Sears is innocent of the crime, whowrote the warning and where did the assassin get the stiletto with theGrey arms chased into its handle? And the diamond? Still the diamond!You hint that he stole that, too. That with some idea of its provinguseful to him on this gala occasion, he had provided himself with animitation stone, setting and all, --he who has never shown, so far aswe have heard, any interest in Mrs. Fairbrother's diamond, only in Mrs. Fairbrother herself. If Wellgood is Sears and Sears the medium by whichthe false stone was exchanged for the real, then he made this exchangein Mr. Grey's interests and not his own. But I don't believe he hadanything to do with it. I think everything goes to show that theexchange was made by Mr. Grey himself. "

"A second Daniel, " muttered the inspector lightly. "Go on, littlelawyer!" But for all this attempt at banter on his part, I imagined thatI saw the beginning of a very natural anxiety to close the conversation. I therefore hastened with what I had yet to say, cutting my words shortand almost stammering in my eagerness. 

"Remember the perfection of that imitation stone, a copy so exact thatit extends to the setting. That shows plan--forgive me if I repeatmyself--preparation, a knowledge of stones, a particular knowledge ofthis one. Mr. Fairbrother's steward may have had the knowledge, but hewould have been a fool to have used his knowledge to secure for himselfa valuable he could never have found a purchaser for in any market. Buta fancier--one who has his pleasure in the mere possession of aunique and invaluable gem--ah! that is different! He might risk acrime--history tells us of several. "

Here I paused to take breath, which gave the inspector chance to say:

"In other words, this is what you think. The Englishman, desirous ofcovering up his tracks, conceived the idea of having this imitationon hand, in case it might be of use in the daring and disgracefulundertaking you ascribe to him. Recognizing his own inability to do thishimself, he delegated the task to one who in some way, he had been ledto think, cherished a secret grudge against its present possessor--aman who had had some opportunity for seeing the stone and studying thesetting. The copy thus procured, Mr. Grey went to the ball, and, relyingon his own seemingly unassailable position, attacked Mrs. Fairbrotherin the alcove and would have carried off the diamond, if he had foundit where he had seen it earlier blazing on her breast. But it wasnot there. The warning received by her--a warning you ascribe to hisdaughter, a fact which is yet to be proved--had led her to rid herselfof the jewel in the way Mr. Durand describes, and he found himselfburdened with a dastardly crime and with nothing to show for it. Later, however, to his intense surprise and possible satisfaction, he saw thatdiamond in my hands, and, recognizing an opportunity, as he thought, ofyet securing it, he asked to see it, held it for an instant, and then, making use of an almost incredible expedient for distracting attention, dropped, not the real stone but the false one, retaining the real one inhis hand. This, in plain English, as I take it, is your present idea ofthe situation. "

Astonished at the clearness with which he read my mind, I answered:"Yes, Inspector, that is what was in my mind. "

"Good! then it is just as well that it is out. Your mind is now free andyou can give it entirely to your duties. " Then, as he laid his handon the door-knob, he added: "In studying so intently your own pointof view, you seem to have forgotten that the last thing which Mr. Greywould be likely to do, under those circumstances, would be to callattention to the falsity of the gem upon whose similarity to the realstone he was depending. Not even his confidence in his own position, asan honored and highly-esteemed guest, would lead him to do that. "

"Not if he were a well-known connoisseur, " I faltered, "with the prideof one who has handled the best gems? He would know that the deceptionwould be soon discovered and that it would not do for him to fail torecognize it for what it was, when the make-believe was in his hands. "

"Forced, my dear child, forced; and as chimerical as all the rest. Itcan not stand putting into words. I will go further, --you are a goodgirl and can bear to hear the truth from me. I don't believe in yourtheory; I can't. I have not been able to from the first, nor have anyof my men; but if your ideas are true and Mr. Grey is involved in thismatter, you will find that there has been more of a hitch about thatdiamond than you, in your simplicity, believe. If Mr. Grey were inactual possession of this valuable, he would show less care than you sayhe does. So would he if it were in Wellgood's hands with his consent anda good prospect of its coming to him in the near future. But if it isin Wellgood's hands without his consent, or any near prospect of hisregaining it, then we can easily understand his present apprehensionsand the growing uneasiness he betrays. "

"True, " I murmured. 

"If, then, " the inspector pursued, giving me a parting glance notwithout its humor, probably not without something really seriousunderlying its humor, "we should find, in following up our present clue, that Mr. Grey has had dealings with this Wellgood or this Sears; or ifyou, with your advantages for learning the fact, should discover that heshows any extraordinary interest in either of them, the matter will takeon a different aspect. But we have not got that far yet. At present ourtask is to find one or the other of these men. If we are lucky, we shalldiscover that the waiter and the steward are identical, in spite oftheir seemingly different appearance. A rogue, such as this Sears hasshown himself to be, would be an adept at disguise. "

"You are right, " I acknowledged. "He has certainly the heart of acriminal. If he had no hand in Mrs. Fairbrother's murder, he came nearhaving one in that of your detective. You know what I mean. I could nothelp hearing, Inspector. "

He smiled, looked me steadfastly in the face for a moment, and thenbowed me out. 

The inspector told me afterward that, in spite of the cavalier mannerwith which he had treated my suggestions, he spent a very serioushalf-hour, head to head with the district attorney. The result was thefollowing order to Sweetwater, the detective. 

"You are to go to the St. Regis; make yourself solid there, andgradually, as you can manage it, work yourself into a position forknowing all that goes on in Room ----. If the gentleman (mind you, thegentleman; we care nothing about the women) should go out, you are tofollow him if it takes you to--. We want to know his secret; but he mustnever know our interest in it and you are to be as silent in this matteras if possessed of neither ear nor tongue. I will add memory, for if youfind this secret to be one in which we have no lawful interest, you areto forget it absolutely and for ever. You will understand why when youconsult the St Regis register. "

But they expected nothing from it; absolutely nothing. 

XVI. DOUBT

I prayed uncle that we might be driven home by the way of Eighty-sixthStreet. I wanted to look at the Fairbrother house. I had seen it manytimes, but I felt that I should see it with new eyes after the storyI had just heard in the inspector's office. That an adventure of thisnature could take place in a New York house taxed my credulity. Imight have believed it of Paris, wicked, mysterious Paris, the home ofintrigue and every redoubtable crime, but of our own homely, commonplacemetropolis--the house must be seen for me to be convinced of the factrelated. 

Many of you know the building. It is usually spoken of with a shrug, thesole reason for which seems to be that there is no other just like it inthe city. I myself have always considered it imposing and majestic; butto the average man it is too suggestive of Old-World feudal life tobe pleasing. On this afternoon--a dull, depressing one--it lookedundeniably heavy as we approached it; but interesting in a very newway to me, because of the great turret at one angle, the scene of thatmidnight descent of two men, each in deadly fear of the other, yetquailing not in their purpose, --the one of flight, the other of pursuit. 

There was no railing in front of the house. It may have seemed anunnecessary safeguard to the audacious owner. Consequently, the smalldoor in the turret opened directly upon the street, making entranceand exit easy enough for any one who had the key. But the shaft and thesmall room at the bottom--where were they? Naturally in the center ofthe great mass, the room being without windows. 

It was, therefore, useless to look for it, and yet my eye ran along thepeaks and pinnacles of the roof, searching for the skylight in which itundoubtedly ended. At last I espied it, and, my curiosity satisfied onthis score, I let my eyes run over the side and face of the building foran open window or a lifted shade. But all were tightly closed andgave no more sign of life than did the boarded-up door. But I was notdeceived by this. As we drove away, I thought how on the morrow therewould be a regular procession passing through this street to see justthe little I had seen to-day. The detective's adventure was like tomake the house notorious. For several minutes after I had left itsneighborhood my imagination pictured room after room shut up from thelight of day, but bearing within them the impalpable aura of thosetwo shadows flitting through them like the ghosts of ghosts, as thedetective had tellingly put it. 

The heart has its strange surprises. Through my whole ride and theindulgence in these thoughts I was conscious of a great inner revulsionagainst all I had intimated and even honestly felt while talking withthe inspector. Perhaps this is what this wise old official expected. Hehad let me talk, and the inevitable reaction followed. I could now seeonly Mr. Grey's goodness and claims to respect, and began to hate myselfthat I had not been immediately impressed by the inspector's views, andshown myself more willing to drop every suspicion against the augustpersonage I had presumed to associate with crime. What had given me thestrength to persist? Loyalty to my lover? His innocence had not beeninvolved. Indeed, every word uttered in the inspector's office hadgone to prove that he no longer occupied a leading place in policecalculations: that their eyes were turned elsewhere, and that I had onlyto be patient to see Mr. Durand quite cleared in their minds. 

But was this really so? Was he as safe as that? What if this new cluefailed? What if they failed to find Sears or lay hands on the doubtfulWellgood? Would Mr. Durand be released without a trial? Should we hearnothing more of the strange and to many the suspicious circumstanceswhich linked him to this crime? It would be expecting too much fromeither police or official discrimination. 

No; Mr. Durand would never be completely exonerated till the trueculprit was found and all explanations made. I had therefore been simplyfighting his battles when I pointed out what I thought to be the weakplace in their present theory, and, sore as I felt in contemplationof my seemingly heartless action, I was not the unimpressionable, addle-pated nonentity I must have seemed to the inspector. 

Yet my comfort was small and the effort it took to face Mr. Grey and myyoung patient was much greater than I had anticipated. I blushed as Iapproached to take my place at Miss Grey's bedside, and, had her fatherbeen as suspicious of me at that moment as I was of him, I am sure thatI should have fared badly in his thoughts. 

But he was not on the watch for my emotions. He was simply relievedto see me back. I noticed this immediately, also that something hadoccurred during my absence which absorbed his thought and filled himwith anxiety. 

A Western Union envelope lay at his feet, --proof that he had justreceived a telegram. This, under ordinary circumstances, would not haveoccasioned me a second thought, such a man being naturally the recipientof all sorts of communications from all parts of the world; but at thiscrisis, with the worm of a half-stifled doubt still gnawing at my heart, everything that occurred to him took on importance and roused questions. 

When he had left the room, Miss Grey nestled up to me with the seeminglyingenuous remark:

"Poor papa! something disturbs him. He will not tell me what. I supposehe thinks I am not strong enough to share his troubles. But I shall besoon. Don't you see I am gaining every day?"

"Indeed I do, " was my hearty response. In face of such a sweetconfidence and open affection doubt vanished and I was able to give allmy thoughts to her. 

"I wish papa felt as sure of this as you do, " she said. "For some reasonhe does not seem to take any comfort from my improvement. When DoctorFreligh says, 'Well, well! we are getting on finely to-day, ' I noticethat he does not look less anxious, nor does he even meet theseencouraging words with a smile. Haven't you noticed it? He looks ascare-worn and troubled about me now as he did the first day I was takensick. Why should he? Is it because he has lost so many children he cannot believe in his good fortune at having the most insignificant of allleft to him?"

"I do not know your father very well, " I protested; "and can not judgewhat is going on in his mind. But he must see that you are quite adifferent girl from what you were a week ago, and that, if nothingunforeseen happens, your recovery will only be a matter of a week or twolonger. "

"Oh, how I love to hear you say that! To be well again! To readletters!" she murmured, "and to write them!" And I saw the delicate handfalter up to pinch the precious packet awaiting that happy hour. I didnot like to discuss her father with her, so took this opportunityto turn the conversation aside into safer channels. But we had notproceeded far before Mr. Grey returned and, taking his stand at thefoot of the bed, remarked, after a moment's gloomy contemplation of hisdaughter's face:

"You are better today, the doctor says, --I have just been telephoningto him. But do you feel well enough for me to leave you for a few days?There is a man I must see--must go to, if you have no dread of beingleft alone with your good nurse and the doctor's constant attendance. "

Miss Grey looked startled. Doubtless she found it difficult tounderstand what man in this strange country could interest her fatherenough to induce him to leave her while he was yet laboring under suchsolicitude. But a smile speedily took the place of her look of surprisedinquiry and she affectionately exclaimed:

"Oh, I haven't the least dread in the world, not now. See, I can hold upmy arms. Go, papa, go; it will give me a chance to surprise you with mygood looks when you come back. "

He turned abruptly away. He was suffering from an emotion deeper than hecared to acknowledge. But he gained control over himself speedily and, coming back, announced with forced decision:

"I shall have to go to-night. I have no choice. Promise me that you willnot go back in my absence; that you will strive to get well; that youwill put all your mind into striving to get well. "

"Indeed, I will, " she answered, a little frightened by the feeling heshowed. "Don't worry so much. I have more than one reason for living, papa. "

He shook his head and went immediately to make his preparations fordeparture. His daughter gave one sob, then caught me by the hand. 

"You look dumfounded, " said she. "But never mind, we shall get on verywell together. I have the most perfect confidence in you. "

Was it my duty to let the inspector know that Mr. Grey anticipatedabsenting himself from the city for a few days? I decided that I wouldonly be impressing my own doubts upon him after a rebuke which shouldhave allayed them. 

Yet, when Mr. Grey came to take his departure I wished that theinspector might have been a witness to his emotion, if only to give meone of his very excellent explanations. The parting was more like thatof one who sees no immediate promise of return than of a traveler whointends to limit his stay to a few days. He looked her in the eyes andkissed her a dozen times, each time with an air of heartbreak which wasgood neither for her nor for himself, and when he finally tore himselfaway it was to look back at her from the door with an expression I wasglad she did not see, or it would certainly have interfered with thepromise she had made to concentrate all her energies on getting well. 

What was at the root of his extreme grief at leaving her? Did he fearthe person he was going to meet, or were his plans such as involved amuch longer stay than he had mentioned? Did he even mean to return atall?

Ah, that was the question! Did he intend to return, or had I been theunconscious witness of a flight?

XVII. SWEETWATER IN A NEW ROLE

A few days later three men were closeted in the district attorney'soffice. Two of them were officials--the district attorney himself, andour old friend, the inspector. The third was the detective, Sweetwater, chosen by them to keep watch on Mr. Grey. 

Sweetwater had just come to town, --this was evident from the gripsackhe had set down in a corner on entering, also from a certain tousledappearance which bespoke hasty rising and but few facilities for properattention to his person. These details counted little, however, in theastonishment created by his manner. For a hardy chap he looked strangelynervous and indisposed, so much so that, after the first shortgreeting, the inspector asked him what was up, and if he had had anotherFairbrother-house experience. 

He replied with a decided no; that it was not his adventure which hadupset him, but the news he had to bring. 

Here he glanced at every door and window; and then, leaning forward overthe table at which the two officials sat, he brought his head as nearlyto them as possible and whispered five words. 

They produced a most unhappy sensation. Both the men, hardened as theywere by duties which soon sap the sensibilities, started and turned aspale as the speaker himself. Then the district attorney, with one glanceat the inspector, rose and locked the door. 

It was a prelude to this tale which I give, not as it came from hismouth, but as it was afterward related to me. The language, I fear, ismostly my own. 

The detective had just been with Mr. Grey to the coast of Maine. Why there, will presently appear. His task had been to follow thisgentleman, and follow him he did. 

Mr. Grey was a very stately man, difficult of approach, and wasabsorbed, besides, by some overwhelming care. But this fellow was onein a thousand and somehow, during the trip, he managed to do him somelittle service, which drew the attention of the great man to himself. This done, he so improved his opportunity that the two were soon on thebest of terms, and he learned that the Englishman was without a valet, and, being unaccustomed to move about without one, felt the awkwardnessof his position very much. This gave Sweetwater his cue, and whenhe found that the services of such a man were wanted only during thepresent trip and for the handling of affairs quite apart from personaltendance upon the gentleman himself, he showed such an honest desireto fill the place, and made out to give such a good account of himself, that he found himself engaged for the work before reaching C--. 

This was a great stroke of luck, he thought, but he little knew how biga stroke or into what a series of adventures it was going to lead him. 

Once on the platform of the small station at which Mr. Grey had biddenhim to stop, he noticed two things: the utter helplessness of the man inall practical matters, and his extreme anxiety to see all that wasgoing on about him without being himself seen. There was method in thiscuriosity, too much method. Women did not interest him in the least. They could pass and repass without arousing his attention, but themoment a man stepped his way, he shrank from him only to betray thegreatest curiosity concerning him the moment he felt it safe to turnand observe him. All of which convinced Sweetwater that the Englishman'serrand was in connection with a man whom he equally dreaded and desiredto meet. 

Of this he was made absolutely certain a little later. As they wereleaving the depot with the rest of the arrivals, Mr. Grey said:

"I want you to get me a room at a very quiet hotel. This done, you areto hunt up the man whose name you will find written in this paper, andwhen you have found him, make up your mind how it will be possible forme to get a good look at him without his getting any sort of a look atme. Do this and you will earn a week's salary in one day. "

Sweetwater, with his head in air and his heart on fire--for matters werelooking very promising indeed--took the paper and put it in his pocket;then he began to hunt for a hotel. Not till he had found what he wished, and installed the Englishman in his room, did he venture to open theprecious memorandum and read the name he had been speculating over foran hour. It was not the one he had anticipated, but it came near to it. It was that of James Wellgood. 

Satisfied now that he had a ticklish matter to handle, he prepared forit, with his usual enthusiasm and circumspection. 

Sauntering out into the street, he strolled first toward thepost-office. The train on which he had just come had been a mail-train, and he calculated that he would find half the town there. 

His calculation was a correct one. The store was crowded with people. Taking his place in the line drawn up before the post-office window, heawaited his turn, and when it came shouted out the name which was hisone talisman--James Wellgood. 

The man behind the boxes was used to the name and reached out a handtoward a box unusually well stacked, but stopped half-way there and gaveSweetwater a sharp look. 

"Who are you?" he asked. 

"A stranger, " that young man put in volubly, "looking for JamesWellgood. I thought, perhaps, you could tell me where to find him. I seethat his letters pass through this office. "

"You're taking up another man's time, " complained the postmaster. Heprobably alluded to the man whose elbow Sweetwater felt boring into hisback. "Ask Dick over there; he knows him. "

The detective was glad enough to escape and ask Dick. But he was betterpleased yet when Dick--a fellow with a squint whose hand was always inthe sugar--told him that Mr. Wellgood would probably be in for his mailin a few moments. "That is his buggy standing before the drug-store onthe opposite side of the way. "

So! he had netted Jones' quondam waiter at the first cast! "Lucky!" waswhat he said to himself, "still lucky!"

Sauntering to the door, he watched for the owner of that buggy. He hadlearned, as such fellows do, that there was a secret hue and cry afterthis very man by the New York police; that he was supposed by some tobe Sears himself. In this way he would soon be looking upon the very manwhose steps he had followed through the Fairbrother house a few nightsbefore, and through whose resolute action he had very nearly run therisk of a lingering death from starvation. 

"A dangerous customer, " thought he. "I wonder if my instinct will goso far as to make me recognize his presence. I shouldn't wonder. It hasserved me almost as well as that many times before. "

It appeared to serve him now, for when the man finally showed himselfon the cross-walk separating the two buildings he experienced a suddenindecision not unlike that of dread, and there being nothing in theman's appearance to warrant apprehension, he took it for the instinctiverecognition it undoubtedly was. 

He therefore watched him narrowly and succeeded in getting one glancefrom his eye. It was enough. The man was commonplace, --commonplace infeature, dress and manner, but his eye gave him away. There was nothingcommonplace in that. It was an eye to beware of. 

He had taken in Sweetwater as he passed, but Sweetwater was of acommonplace type, too, and woke no corresponding dread in the other'smind; for he went whistling into the store, from which he presentlyreissued with a bundle of mail in his hand. The detective's firstinstinct was to take him into custody as a suspect much wanted by theNew York police; but reason assured him that he not only had nowarrant for this, but that he would better serve the ends of justice byfollowing out his present task of bringing this man and the Englishmantogether and watching the result. But how, with the conditions laidon him by Mr. Grey, was this to be done? He knew nothing of the man'scircumstances or of his position in the town. How, then, go to work tosecure his cooperation in a scheme possibly as mysterious to him as itwas to himself? He could stop this stranger in mid-street, with someplausible excuse, but it did not follow that he would succeed in luringhim to the hotel where Mr. Grey could see him. Wellgood, or, as hebelieved, Sears, knew too much of life to be beguiled by any openclap-trap, and Sweetwater was obliged to see him drive off withouthaving made the least advance in the purpose engrossing him. 

But that was nothing. He had all the evening before him, and reenteringthe store, he took up his stand near the sugar barrel. He had perceivedthat in the pauses of weighing and tasting, Dick talked; if he wereguided with suitable discretion, why should he not talk of Wellgood?

He was guided, and he did talk and to some effect. That is, he gaveinformation of the man which surprised Sweetwater. If in the past and inNew York he had been known as a waiter, or should I say steward, he wasknown here as a manufacturer of patent medicine designed to rejuvenatethe human race. He had not been long in town and was somewhat of astranger yet, but he wouldn't be so long. He was going to make thingshum, he was. Money for this, money for that, a horse where another manwould walk, and mail--well, that alone would make this post-office worthwhile. Then the drugs ordered by wholesale. Those boxes over there werehis, ready to be carted out to his manufactory. Count them, some one, and think of the bottles and bottles of stuff they stand for. If itsells as he says it will--then he will soon be rich: and so on, tillSweetwater brought the garrulous Dick to a standstill by asking whetherWellgood had been away for any purpose since he first came to town. Hereceived the reply that he had just come home from New York, where hehad been for some articles needed in his manufactory. Sweetwater feltall his convictions confirmed, and ended the colloquy with the finalquestion:

"And where is his manufactory? Might be worth visiting, perhaps. "

The other made a gesture, said something about northwest and rushed tohelp a customer. Sweetwater took the opportunity to slide away. Moreexplicit directions could easily be got elsewhere, and he felt anxiousto return to Mr. Grey and discover, if possible, whether it would proveas much a matter of surprise to him as to Sweetwater himself that theman who answered to the name of Wellgood was the owner of a manufactoryand a barrel or two of drugs, out of which he proposed to make acompound that would rob the doctors of their business and make himselfand this little village rich. 

Sweetwater made only one stop on his way to Mr. Grey's hotel rooms, and that was at the stables. Here he learned whatever else there was toknow, and, armed with definite information, he appeared before Mr. Grey, who, to his astonishment, was dining in his own room. 

He had dismissed the waiter and was rather brooding than eating. Helooked up eagerly, however, when Sweetwater entered, and asked whatnews. 

The detective, with some semblance of respect, answered that he had seenWellgood, but that he had been unable to detain him or bring him withinhis employer's observation. 

"He is a patent-medicine man, " he then explained, "and manufactureshis own concoctions in a house he has rented here on a lonely road somehalf-mile out of town. "

"Wellgood does? the man named Wellgood?" Mr. Grey exclaimed with all theastonishment the other secretly expected. 

"Yes; Wellgood, James Wellgood. There is no other in town. "

"How long has this man been here?" the statesman inquired, after amoment of apparently great discomfiture. 

"Just twenty-four hours, this time. He was here once before, when herented the house and made all his plans. "

"Ah!"

Mr. Grey rose precipitately. His manner had changed. 

"I must see him. What you tell me makes it all the more necessary for meto see him. How can you bring it about?"

"Without his seeing you?" Sweetwater asked. 

"Yes, yes; certainly without his seeing me. Couldn't you rap him up athis own door, and hold him in talk a minute, while I looked on from thecarriage or whatever vehicle we can get to carry us there? The leastglimpse of his face would satisfy me. That is, to-night. "

"I'll try, " said Sweetwater, not very sanguine as to the probable resultof this effort. 

Returning to the stables, he ordered the team. With the last ray of thesun they set out, the reins in Sweetwater's hands. 

They headed for the coast-road. 

XVIII. THE CLOSED DOOR

The road was once the highway, but the tide having played so many trickswith its numberless bridges a new one had been built farther up thecliff, carrying with it the life and business of the small town. Manyold landmarks still remained--shops, warehouses and even a few scattereddwellings. But most of these were deserted, and those that were still inuse showed such neglect that it was very evident the whole regionwould soon be given up to the encroaching sea and such interests as areinseparable from it. 

The hour was that mysterious one of late twilight, when outlines losetheir distinctness and sea and shore melt into one mass of uniform gray. There was no wind and the waves came in with a soft plash, but so nearto the level of the road that it was evident, even to these strangers, that the tide was at its height and would presently begin to ebb. 

Soon they had passed the last forsaken dwelling, and the town proper laybehind them. Sand and a few rocks were all that lay between them now andthe open stretch of the ocean, which, at this point, approached the landin a small bay, well-guarded on either side by embracing rocky heads. This was what made the harbor at C--. 

It was very still. They passed one team and only one. Sweetwater lookedvery sharply at this team and at its driver, but saw nothing to arousesuspicion. They were now a half-mile from C--, and, seemingly, in aperfectly desolate region. 

"A manufactory here!" exclaimed Mr. Grey. It was the first word he haduttered since starting. 

"Not far from here, " was Sweetwater's equally laconic reply; and, theroad taking a turn almost at the moment of his speaking, he leanedforward and pointed out a building standing on the right-hand sideof the road, with its feet in the water. "That's it. " said he. "Theydescribed it well enough for me to know it when I see it. Looks likea robber's hole at this time of night, " he laughed; "but what can youexpect from a manufactory of patent medicine?"

Mr. Grey was silent. He was looking very earnestly at the building. 

"It is larger than I expected, " he remarked at last. 

Sweetwater himself was surprised, but as they advanced and their pointof view changed they found it to be really an insignificant structure, and Mr. Wellgood's portion of it more insignificant still. 

In reality it was a collection of three stores under one roof: two ofthem were shut up and evidently unoccupied, the third showed a lightedwindow. This was the manufactory. It occupied the middle place andpresented a tolerably decent appearance. It showed, besides the lightedlamp I have mentioned, such signs of life as a few packing-boxes tumbledout on the small platform in front, and a whinnying horse attached to anempty buggy, tied to a post on the opposite side of the road. 

"I'm glad to see the lamp, " muttered Sweetwater. "Now, what shall we do?Is it light enough for you to see his face, if I can manage to bring himto the door?"

Mr. Grey seemed startled. 

"It's darker than I thought, " said he. "But call the man and if I cannot see him plainly, I'll shout to the horse to stand, which you willtake as a signal to bring this Wellgood nearer. But do not be surprisedif I ride off before he reaches the buggy. I'll come back again and takeyou up farther down the road. "

"All right, sir, " answered Sweetwater, with a side glance at thespeaker's inscrutable features. "It's a go!" And leaping to the groundhe advanced to the manufactory door and knocked loudly. 

No one appeared. 

He tried the latch; it lifted, but the door did not open; it wasfastened from within. 

"Strange!" he muttered, casting a glance at the waiting horse and buggy, then at the lighted window, which was on the second floor directly overhis head. "Guess I'll sing out. "

Here he shouted the man's name. "Wellgood! I say, Wellgood!"

No response to this either. 

"Looks bad!" he acknowledged to himself; and, taking a step back, helooked up at the window. 

It was closed, but there was neither shade nor curtain to obstruct theview. 

"Do you see anything?" he inquired of Mr. Grey, who sat with his eye atthe small window in the buggy top. 

"Nothing. "

"No movement in the room above? No shadow at the window?"

"Nothing. "

"Well, it's confounded strange!" And he went back, still callingWellgood. 

The tied-up horse whinnied, and the waves gave a soft splash and thatwas all, --if I except Sweetwater's muttered oath. 

Coming back, he looked again at the window, then, with a gesture towardMr. Grey, turned the corner of the building and began to edge himselfalong its side in an endeavor to reach the rear and see what it offered. But he came to a sudden standstill. He found himself on the edge of thebank before he had taken twenty steps. Yet the building projectedon, and he saw why it had looked so large from a certain point of theapproach. Its rear was built out on piles, making its depth even greaterthan the united width of the three stores. At low tide this might beaccessible from below, but just now the water was almost on a level withthe top of the piles, making all approach impossible save by boat. 

Disgusted with his failure, Sweetwater returned to the front, and, finding the situation unchanged, took a new resolve. After measuringwith his eye the height of the first story, he coolly walked over tothe strange horse, and, slipping his bridle, brought it back and cast itover a projection of the door; by its aid he succeeded in climbing up tothe window, which was the sole eye to the interior. 

Mr. Grey sat far back in his buggy, watching every movement. 

There were no shades at the window, as I have before said, and, onceSweetwater's eye had reached the level of the sill, he could see theinterior without the least difficulty. There was nobody there. The lampburned on a great table littered with papers, but the rude cane-chairbefore it was empty, and so was the room. He could see into every cornerof it and there was not even a hiding-place where anybody could remainconcealed. Sweetwater was still looking, when the lamp, which had beenburning with considerable smoke, flared up and went out. Sweetwateruttered an ejaculation, and, finding himself face to face with utterdarkness, slid from his perch to the ground. 

Approaching Mr. Grey for the second time, he said:

"I can not understand it. The fellow is either lying low, or he's goneout, leaving his lamp to go out, too. But whose is the horse--justexcuse me while I tie him up again. It looks like the one he was drivingto-day. It is the one. Well, he won't leave him here all night. Shallwe lie low and wait for him to come and unhitch this animal? Or do youprefer to return to the hotel?"

Mr. Grey was slow in answering. Finally he said:

"The man may suspect our intention. You can never tell anything aboutsuch fellows as he. He may have caught some unexpected glimpse of meor simply heard that I was in town. If he's the man I think him, hehas reasons for avoiding me which I can very well understand. Let us goback, --not to the hotel, I must see this adventure through tonight, --butfar enough for him to think we have given up all idea of routing him outto-night. Perhaps that is all he is waiting for. You can steal back--"

"Excuse me, " said Sweetwater, "but I know a better dodge than that. We'll circumvent him. We passed a boat-house on our way down here. I'lljust drive you up, procure a boat, and bring you back here by water. I don't believe that he will expect that, and if he is in the house weshall see him or his light. "

"Meanwhile he can escape by the road. "

"Escape? Do you think he is planning to escape?"

The detective spoke with becoming surprise and Mr. Grey answered withoutapparent suspicion. 

"It is possible if he suspects my presence in the neighborhood. "

"Do you want to stop him?"

"I want to see him. "

"Oh, I remember. Well, sir, we will drive on, --that is, after a moment. "

"What are you going to do?"

"Oh, nothing. You said you wanted to see the man before he escaped. "

"Yes, but--"

"And that he might escape by the road. "

"Yes--"

"Well, I was just making that a little bit impracticable. A small pebblein the keyhole and--why, see now, his horse is walking off! Gee! I musthave fastened him badly. I shouldn't wonder if he trotted all the way totown. But it can't be helped. I can not be supposed to race after him. Are you ready now, sir? I'll give another shout, then I'll get in. " Andonce more the lonely region about echoed with the cry: "Wellgood! I say, Wellgood!"

There was no answer, and the young detective, masking for the nonce asMr. Grey's confidential servant, jumped into the buggy, and turned thehorse's head toward C--. 

XIX. THE FACE

The moon was well up when the small boat in which our young detectivewas seated with Mr. Grey appeared in the bay approaching the so-calledmanufactory of Wellgood. The looked-for light on the waterside was notthere. All was dark except where the windows reflected the light of themoon. 

This was a decided disappointment to Sweetwater, if not to Mr. Grey. He had expected to detect signs of life in this quarter, and thisadditional proof of Wellgood's absence from home made it look as if theyhad come out on a fool's errand and might much better have stuck to theroad. 

"No promise there, " came in a mutter from his lips. "Shall I row in, sir, and try to make a landing?"

"You may row nearer. I should like a closer view. I don't think we shallattract any attention. There are more boats than ours on the water. "

Sweetwater was startled. Looking round, he saw a launch, or some suchsmall steamer, riding at anchor not far from the mouth of the bay. Butthat was not all. Between it and them was a rowboat like their own, resting quietly in the wake of the moon. 

"I don't like so much company, " he muttered. "Something's brewing;something in which we may not want to take a part. "

"Very likely, " answered Mr. Grey grimly. "But we must not bedeterred--not till I have seen--" the rest Sweetwater did not hear. Mr. Grey seemed to remember himself. "Row nearer, " he now bade. "Get underthe shadow of the rocks if you can. If the boat is for him, he will showhimself. Yet I hardly see how he can board from that bank. "

It did not look feasible. Nevertheless, they waited and watched withmuch patience for several long minutes. The boat behind them did notadvance, nor was any movement discernible in the direction of themanufactory. Another short period, then suddenly a light flashed froma window high up in the central gable, sparkled for an instant and wasgone. Sweetwater took it for a signal and, with a slight motion of thewrist, began to work his way in toward shore till they lay almost at theedge of the piles. 

"Hark!"

It was Sweetwater who spoke. 

Both listened, Mr. Grey with his head turned toward the launch andSweetwater with his eye on the cavernous space, sharply outlined bythe piles, which the falling tide now disclosed under each contiguousbuilding. Goods had been directly shipped from these stores in the olddays. This he had learned in the village. How shipped he had not beenable to understand from his previous survey of the building. But hethought he could see now. At low tide, or better, at half-tide, accesscould be got to the floor of the extension and, if this floor helda trap, the mystery would be explainable. So would be the hoveringboat--the signal-light and--yes! this sound overheard of steps on arattling planking. 

"I hear nothing, " whispered Mr. Grey from the other end. "The boat isstill there, but not a man has dipped an oar. "

"They will soon, " returned Sweetwater as a smothered sound of clankingiron reached his ears from the hollow spaces before him. "Duck yourhead, sir; I'm going to row in under this portion of the house. "

Mr. Grey would have protested and with very good reason. There wasscarcely a space of three feet between them and the boards overhead. But Sweetwater had so immediately suited action to word that he had nochoice. 

They were now in utter darkness, and Mr. Grey's thoughts must have beenpeculiar as he crouched over the stern, hardly knowing what to expect orwhether this sudden launch into darkness was for the purpose of flightor pursuit. But enlightenment came soon. The sound of a man's tread inthe building above was every moment becoming more perceptible, and whilewondering, possibly, at his position, Mr. Grey naturally turned his headas nearly as he could in the direction of these sounds, and was staringwith blank eyes into the darkness, when Sweetwater, leaning toward him, whispered:

"Look up! There's a trap. In a minute he'll open it. Mark him, but don'tbreathe a word, and I'll get you out of this all right. "

Mr. Grey attempted some answer, but it was lost in the prolonged creakof slowly-moving hinges somewhere over their heads. Spaces, which hadlooked dark, suddenly looked darker; hearing was satisfied, but notthe eye. A man's breath panting with exertion testified to a near-bypresence; but that man was working without a light in a room withshuttered windows, and Mr. Grey probably felt that he knew very littlemore than before, when suddenly, most unexpectedly, to him at least, aface started out of that overhead darkness; a face so white, with everyfeature made so startlingly distinct by the strong light Sweetwater hadthrown upon it, that it seemed the only thing in the world to the twomen beneath. In another moment it had vanished, or rather the lightwhich had revealed it. 

"What's that? Are you there?" came down from above in hoarse and nonetoo encouraging tones. 

There was none to answer; Sweetwater, with a quick pull on the oars, hadalready shot the boat out of its dangerous harbor. 

XX. MOONLIGHT--AND A CLUE

"Are you satisfied? Have you got what you wanted?" asked Sweetwater, when they were well away from the shore and the voice they had heardcalling at intervals from the chasm they had left. 

"Yes. You're a good fellow. It could not have been better managed. "Then, after a pause too prolonged and thoughtful to please Sweetwater, who was burning with curiosity if not with some deeper feeling: "Whatwas that light you burned? A match?"

Sweetwater did not answer. He dared not. How speak of the electric torchhe as a detective carried in his pocket? That would be to give himselfaway. He therefore let this question slip by and put in one of his own. 

"Are you ready to go back now, sir? Are we all done here?" This withhis ear turned and his eye bent forward; for the adventure they hadinterrupted was not at an end, whether their part in it was or not. 

Mr. Grey hesitated, his glances following those of Sweetwater. 

"Let us wait, " said he, in a tone which surprised Sweetwater. "If he ismeditating an escape, I must speak to him before he reaches the launch. At all hazards, " he added after another moment's thought. 

"All right, sir--How do you propose--"

His words were interrupted by a shrill whistle from the direction ofthe bank. Promptly, and as if awaiting this signal, the two men in therowboat before them dipped their oars and pulled for the shore, takingthe direction of the manufactory. 

Sweetwater said nothing, but held himself in readiness. 

Mr. Grey was equally silent, but the lines of his face seemed to deepenin the moonlight as the boat, gliding rapidly through the water, passedthem within a dozen boat-lengths and slipped into the opening under themanufactory building. 

"Now row!" he cried. "Make for the launch. We'll intercept them on theirreturn. "

Sweetwater, glowing with anticipation, bent to his work. The boatbeneath them gave a bound and in a few minutes they were far out on thewaters of the bay. 

"They're coming!" he whispered eagerly, as he saw Mr. Grey lookinganxiously back. "How much farther shall I go?"

"Just within hailing distance of the launch, " was Mr. Grey's reply. 

Sweetwater, gaging the distance with a glance, stopped at the properpoint and rested on his oars. But his thoughts did not rest. He realizedthat he was about to witness an interview whose importance he easilyrecognized. How much of it would he hear? What would be the upshot andwhat was his full duty in the case? He knew that this man Wellgood waswanted by the New York police, but he was possessed with no authority toarrest him, even if he had the power. 

"Something more than I bargained for, " he inwardly commented. "But Iwanted excitement, and now I have got it. If only I can keep my headlevel, I may get something out of this, if not all I could wish. "

Meantime the second boat was very nearly on them. He could mark thethree figures and pick out Wellgood's head from among the rest. It hada resolute air; the face on which, to his evident discomfiture, themoon shone, wore a look which convinced the detective that this was nopatent-medicine manufacturer, nor even a caterer's assistant, but a manof nerve and resources, the same, indeed, whom he had encountered inMr. Fairbrother's house, with such disastrous, almost fatal, results tohimself. 

The discovery, though an unexpected one, did not lessen his sense of theextreme helplessness of his own position. He could witness, but he couldnot act; follow Mr. Grey's orders, but indulge in none of his own. Thedetective must continue to be lost in the valet, though it came hard andwoke a sense of shame in his ambitious breast. 

Meanwhile Wellgood had seen them and ordered his men to cease rowing. 

"Give way, there, " he shouted. "We're for the launch and in a hurry. "

"There's some one here who wants to speak to you, Mr. Wellgood, "Sweetwater called out, as respectfully as he could. "Shall I mentionyour name?" he asked of Mr. Grey. 

"No, I will do that myself. " And raising his voice, he accosted theother with these words: "I am the man, Percival Grey, of DarlingtonManor, England. I should like to say a word to you before you embark. "

A change, quick as lightning and almost as dangerous, passed over theface Sweetwater was watching with such painful anxiety; but as the otheradded nothing to his words and seemed to be merely waiting, he shruggedhis shoulders and muttered an order to his rowers to proceed. 

In another moment the sterns of the two small craft swung together, butin such a way that, by dint of a little skilful manipulation on the partof Wellgood's men, the latter's back was toward the moon. 

Mr. Grey leaned toward Wellgood, and his face fell into shadow also. 

"Bah!" thought the detective, "I should have managed that myself. But ifI can not see I shall at least hear. "

But he deceived himself in this. The two men spoke in such low whispersthat only their intensity was manifest. Not a word came to Sweetwater'sears. 

"Bah!" he thought again, "this is bad. "

But he had to swallow his disappointment, and more. For presently thetwo men, so different in culture, station and appearance, came, as itseemed, to an understanding, and Wellgood, taking his hand from hisbreast, fumbled in one of his pockets and drew out something which hehanded to Mr. Grey. 

This made Sweetwater start and peer with still greater anxiety at everymovement, when to his surprise both bent forward, each over his ownknee, doing something so mysterious he could get no clue to its naturetill they again stretched forth their hands to each other and he caughtthe gleam of paper and realized that they were exchanging memoranda ornotes. 

These must have been important, for each made an immediate endeavorto read his slip by turning it toward the moon's rays. That both weresatisfied was shown by their after movements. Wellgood put his slip intohis pocket, and without further word to Mr. Grey motioned his men to rowaway. They did so with a will, leaving a line of silver in their wake. Mr. Grey, on the contrary, gave no orders. He still held his slip andseemed to be dreaming. But his eye was on the shore, and he did not eventurn when sounds from the launch denoted that she was under way. 

Sweetwater; looking at this morsel of paper with greedy eyes, dipped hisoars and began pulling softly toward that portion of the beach wherea small and twinkling light defined the boat-house. He hoped Mr. Greywould speak, hoped that in some way, by some means, he might obtain aclue to his patron's thoughts. But the English gentleman sat likean image and did not move till a slight but sudden breeze, blowingin-shore, seized the paper in his hand and carried it away, pastSweetwater, who vainly sought to catch it as it went fluttering by, intothe water ahead, where it shone for a moment, then softly disappeared. 

Sweetwater uttered a cry, so did Mr. Grey. 

"Is it anything you wanted?" called out the former, leaning over the bowof the boat and making a dive at the paper with his oar. 

"Yes; but if it's gone, it's gone, " returned the other with somefeeling. "Careless of me, very careless, --but I was thinking of--"

He stopped; he was greatly agitated, but he did not encourage Sweetwaterin any further attempts to recover the lost memorandum. Indeed, suchan effort would have been fruitless; the paper was gone, and there wasnothing left for them but to continue their way. As they did so itwould have been hard to tell in which breast chagrin mounted higher. Sweetwater had lost a clue in a thousand, and Mr. Greywell, no one knewwhat he had lost. He said nothing and plainly showed by his changedmanner that he was in haste to land now and be done with this doubtfuladventure. 

When they reached the boat-house Mr. Grey left Sweetwater to pay for theboat and started at once for the hotel. 

The man in charge had the bow of the boat in hand, preparatory topulling it up on the boards. As Sweetwater turned toward him he caughtsight of the side of the boat, shining brightly in the moonlight. Hegave a start and, with a muttered ejaculation, darted forward and pickedoff a small piece of paper from the dripping keel. It separated in hishand and a part of it escaped him, but the rest he managed to keepby secreting it in his palm, where it still clung, wet and possiblyillegible, when he came upon Mr. Grey again in the hotel office. 

"Here's your pay, " said that gentleman, giving him a bill. "I am veryglad I met you. You have served me remarkably well. "

There was an anxiety in his face and a hurry in his movements whichstruck Sweetwater. 

"Does this mean that you are through with me?" asked Sweetwater. "Thatyou have no further call for my services?"

"Quite so, " said the gentleman. "I'm going to take the train to-night. Ifind that I still have time. "

Sweetwater began to look alive. 

Uttering hasty thanks, he rushed away to his own room and, turning onthe gas, peeled off the morsel of paper which had begun to dry on hishand. If it should prove to be the blank end! If the written part werethe one which had floated off! Such disappointments had fallen to hislot! He was not unused to them. 

But he was destined to better luck this time. The written end had indeeddisappeared, but there was one word left, which he had no sooner readthan he gave a low cry and prepared to leave for New York on the sametrain as Mr. Grey. 

The word was--diamond. 

XXI. GRIZEL! GRIZEL!

I indulged in some very serious thoughts after Mr. Grey's departure. Afact was borne in upon me to which I had hitherto closed my prejudicedeyes, but which I could no longer ignore, whatever confusion it broughtor however it caused me to change my mind on a subject which had formedone of the strongest bases to the argument by which I had sought to saveMr. Durand. Miss Grey cherished no such distrust of her father as I, inmy ignorance of their relations, had imputed to her in the early hoursof my ministrations. This you have already seen in my account of theirparting. Whatever his dread, fear or remorse, there was no evidencethat she felt toward him anything but love and confidence: but love andconfidence from her to him were in direct contradiction to the doubtsI had believed her to have expressed in the half-written note handed toMrs. Fairbrother in the alcove. Had I been wrong, then, in attributingthis scrawl to her? It began to look so. Though forbidden to allowher to speak on the one tabooed subject, I had wit enough to know thatnothing would keep her from it, if the fate of Mrs. Fairbrother occupiedany real place in her thoughts. 

Yet when the opportunity was given me one morning of settling this factbeyond all doubt, I own that my main feeling was one of dread. I fearedto see this article in my creed destroyed, lest I should lose confidencein the whole. Yet conscience bade me face the matter boldly, for had Inot boasted to myself that my one desire was the truth?

I allude to the disposition which Miss Grey showed on the morning ofthe third day to do a little surreptitious writing. You remember thata specimen of her handwriting had been asked for by the inspector, andonce had been earnestly desired by myself. Now I seemed likely to haveit, if I did not open my eyes too widely to the meaning of her seeminglychance requests. A little pencil dangled at the end of my watch-chain. Would I let her see it, let her hold it in her hand for a minute? it wasso like one she used to have. Of course I took it off, of course I lether retain it a little while in her hand. But the pencil was not enough. A few minutes later she asked for a book to look at--I sometimes let herlook at pictures. But the book bothered her--she would look at it later;would I give her something to mark the place--that postal over there. I gave her the postal. She put it in the book and I, who understood herthoroughly, wondered what excuse she would now find for sending me intothe other room. She found one very soon, and with a heavily-beatingheart I left her with that pencil and postal. A soft laugh from her lipsdrew me back. She was holding up the postal. 

"See! I have written a line to him! Oh, you good, good nurse, to let me!You needn't look so alarmed. It hasn't hurt me one bit. "

I knew that it had not; knew that such an exertion was likely to be morebeneficial than hurtful to her, or I should have found some excuse fordeterring her. I endeavored to make my face more natural. As she seemedto want me to take the postal in my hand I drew near and took it. 

"The address looks very shaky, " she laughed. "I think you will have toput it in an envelope. "

I looked at it, --I could not help it, --her eye was on me, and I couldnot even prepare my mind for the shock of seeing it like or totallyunlike the writing of the warning. It was totally unlike; so distinctlyunlike that it was no longer possible to attribute those lines to herwhich, according to Mr. Durand's story, had caused Mrs. Fairbrother totake off her diamond. 

"Why, why!" she cried. "You actually look pale. Are you afraid thedoctor will scold us? It hasn't hurt me nearly so much as lying here andknowing what he would give for one word from me. "

"You are right, and I am foolish, " I answered with all the spirit leftin me. "I should be glad--I am glad that you have written these words. Iwill copy the address on an envelope and send it out in the first mail. "

"Thank you, " she murmured, giving me back my pencil with a sly smile. "Now I can sleep. I must have roses in my cheeks when papa comes home. "

And she bade fair to have ruddier roses than myself, for conscience wasworking havoc in my breast. The theory I had built up with such care, the theory I had persisted in urging upon the inspector in spite of hisrebuke, was slowly crumbling to pieces in my mind with the falling ofone of its main pillars. With the warning unaccounted for in the mannerI have stated, there was a weakness in my argument which nothing couldmake good. How could I tell the inspector, if ever I should be so happyor so miserable as to meet his eye again? Humiliated to the dust, Icould see no worth now in any of the arguments I had advanced. I flewfrom one extreme to the other, and was imputing perfect probity to Mr. Grey and an honorable if mysterious reason for all his acts, when thedoor opened and he came in. Instantly my last doubt vanished. I had notexpected him to return so soon. 

He was glad to be back; that I could see, but there was no othergladness in him. I had looked for some change in his manner andappearance, --that is, if he returned at all, --but the one I saw was nota cheerful one, even after he had approached his daughter's bedsideand found her greatly improved. She noticed this and scrutinized himstrangely. He dropped his eyes and turned to leave the room, but wasstopped by her loving cry; he came back and leaned over her. 

"What is it, father? You are fatigued, worried--"

"No, no, quite well, " he hastily assured her. "But you! are you as wellas you seem?"

"Indeed, yes. I am gaining every day. See! see! I shall soon be able tosit up. Yesterday I read a few words. "

He started, with a side glance at me which took in a table near by onwhich a little book was lying. 

"Oh, a book?"

"Yes, and--and Arthur's letters. "

The father flushed, lifted himself, patted her arm tenderly and hastenedinto another room. 

Miss Grey's eyes followed him longingly, and I heard her give utteranceto a soft sigh. A few hours before, this would have conveyed tomy suspicious mind deep and mysterious meanings; but I was seeingeverything now in a different light, and I found myself no longerinclined either to exaggerate or to misinterpret these little marks offilial solicitude. Trying to rejoice over the present condition of mymind, I was searching in the hidden depths of my nature for the patienceof which I stood in such need, when every thought and feeling were againthrown into confusion by the receipt of another communication from theinspector, in which he stated that something had occurred to bringthe authorities round to my way of thinking and that the test with thestiletto was to be made at once. 

Could the irony of fate go further! I dropped the letter half read, querying if it were my duty to let the inspector know of the flaw I haddiscovered in my own theory, before I proceeded with the attempt I hadsuggested when I believed in its complete soundness. I had not settledthe question when I took the letter up again. Re-reading its openingsentence, I was caught by the word "something. " It was a very indefiniteone, yet was capable of covering a large field. It must cover a largefield, or it could not have produced such a change in the minds of thesemen, conservative from principle and in this instance from discretion. Iwould be satisfied with that word something and quit further thinking. Iwas weary of it. The inspector was now taking the initiative, and Iwas satisfied to be his simple instrument and no more. Arrived at thisconclusion, however, I read the rest of the letter. The test was to goon, but under different conditions. It was no longer to be made at myown discretion and in the up-stairs room; it was to be made at luncheonhour and in Mr. Grey's private dining-room, where, if by any chanceMr. Grey found himself outraged by the placing of this notorious weaponbeside his plate, the blame could be laid on the waiter, who, mistakinghis directions, had placed it on Mr. Grey's table when it was meant forInspector Dalzell's, who was lunching in the adjoining room. It was I, however, who was to do the placing. With what precautions and under whatcircumstances will presently appear. 

Fortunately, the hour set was very near. Otherwise I do not know how Icould have endured the continued strain of gazing on my patient's sweetface, looking up at me from her pillow, with a shadow over its beautywhich had not been there before her father's return. 

And that father! I could hear him pacing the library floor with arestlessness that struck me as being strangely akin to my own inwardanguish of impatience and doubt. What was he dreading? What was it Ihad seen darkening his face and disturbing his manner, when from timeto time he pushed open the communicating door and cast an anxious glanceour way, only to withdraw again without uttering a word. Did he realizethat a crisis was approaching, that danger menaced him, and from me? No, not the latter, for his glance never strayed to me, but rested solelyon his daughter. I was, therefore, not connected with the disturbance inhis thoughts. As far as that was concerned I could proceed fearlessly; Ihad not him to dread, only the event. That I did dread, as any one mustwho saw Miss Grey's face during these painful moments and heard thatrestless tramp in the room beyond. 

At last the hour struck, --the hour at which Mr. Grey always descendedto lunch. He was punctuality itself, and under ordinary circumstances Icould depend upon his leaving the room within five minutes of thestroke of one. But would he be as prompt to-day? Was he in the moodfor luncheon? Would he go down stairs at all? Yes, for the tramp, trampstopped; I heard him approaching his daughter's door for a last look inand managed to escape just in time to procure what I wanted and reachthe room below before he came. 

My opportunity was short, but I had time to see two things: first, thatthe location of his seat had been changed so that his back was to thedoor leading into the adjoining room; secondly, that this door wasajar. The usual waiter was in the room and showed no surprise at myappearance, I having been careful to have it understood that hereafterMiss Grey's appetite was to be encouraged by having her soup served fromher father's table by her father's own hands, and that I should be thereto receive it. 

"Mr. Grey is coming, " said I, approaching the waiter and handing him thestiletto loosely wrapped in tissue paper. "Will you be kind enough toplace this at his plate, just as it is? A man gave it to me for Mr. Grey; said we were to place it there. "

The waiter, suspecting nothing, did as he was bidden, and I had hardlytime to catch up the tray laden with dishes, which I saw awaiting me ona side-table, when Mr. Grey came in and was ushered to his seat. 

The soup was not there, but I advanced with my tray and stood waiting;not too near, lest the violent beating of my heart should betray me. AsI did so the waiter disappeared and the door behind us opened. ThoughMr. Grey's eye had fallen on the package, and I saw him start, I dartedone glance at the room thus disclosed, and saw that it held two tables. At one, the inspector and some one I did not know sat eating; at theother a man alone, whose back was to us all, and who seemingly wasentirely disconnected with the interests of this tragic moment. All thisI saw in an instant, --the next my eyes were fixed on Mr. Grey's face. 

He had reached out his hand to the package and his features showed anemotion I hardly understood. 

"What's this?" he murmured, feeling it with wonder, I should almost sayanger. Suddenly he pulled off the wrapper, and my heart stood stillin expectancy. If he quailed--and how could he help doing so ifguilty--what a doubt would be removed from my own breast, what animpediment from police action! But he did not quail; he simply utteredan exclamation of intense anger, and laid the weapon back on thetable without even taking the precaution of covering it up. I think hemuttered an oath, but there was no fear in it, not a particle. 

My disappointment was so great, my humiliation so unbounded, that, forgetting myself in my dismay, I staggered back and let the tray withall its contents slip from my hands. The crash that followed stoppedMr. Grey in the act of rising. But it did something more. It awoke acry from the adjoining room which I shall never forget. While we bothstarted and turned to see from whom this grievous sound had sprung, aman came stumbling toward us with his hands before his eyes and thisname wild on his lips:

"Grizel! Grizel!"

Mrs. Fairbrother's name! and the man--

XXII. GUILT

Was he Wellgood? Sears? Who? A lover of the woman certainly; that wasborne in on us by the passion of his cry:

"Grizel! Grizel!"

But how here? and why such fury in Mr. Grey's face and such amazement inthat of the inspector?

This question was not to be answered offhand. Mr. Grey, advancing, laid a finger on the man's shoulder. "Come, " said he, "we will have ourconversation in another room. "

The man, who, in dress and appearance looked oddly out of place inthose gorgeous rooms, shook off the stupor into which he had fallen andstarted to follow the Englishman. A waiter crossed their track with thesoup for our table. Mr. Grey motioned him aside. 

"Take that back, " said he. "I have some business to transact with thisgentleman before I eat. I'll ring when I want you. "

Then they entered where I was. As the door closed I caught sight of theinspector's face turned earnestly toward me. In his eyes I read my duty, and girded up my heart, as it were, to meet--what? In that moment it wasimpossible to tell. 

The next enlightened me. With a total ignoring of my presence, dueprobably to his great excitement, Mr. Grey turned on his companion themoment he had closed the door and, seizing him by the collar, cried:

"Fairbrother, you villain, why have you called on your wife like this?Are you murderer as well as thief?"

Fairbrother! this man? Then who was he who was being nursed back to lifeon the mountains beyond Santa Fe? Sears? Anything seemed possible inthat moment. 

Meanwhile, dropping his hand from the other's throat as suddenly as hehad seized it, Mr. Grey caught up the stiletto from the table where hehad flung it, crying: "Do you recognize this?"

Ah, then I saw guilt!

In a silence worse than any cry, this so-called husband of the murderedwoman, the man on whom no suspicion had fallen, the man whom all hadthought a thousand miles away at the time of the deed, stared at theweapon thrust under his eyes, while over his face passed all thoseexpressions of fear, abhorrence and detected guilt which, fool that Iwas, I had expected to see reflected in response to the same test in Mr. Grey's equable countenance. 

The surprise and wonder of it held me chained to the spot. I was in astate of stupefaction, so that I scarcely noted the broken fragmentsat my feet. But the intruder noticed them. Wrenching his gaze from thestiletto which Mr. Grey continued to hold out, he pointed to the brokencup and saucer, muttering:

"That is what startled me into this betrayal--the noise of breakingchina. I can not bear it since--"

He stopped, bit his lip and looked around him with an air of suddenbravado. 

"Since you dropped the cups at your wife's feet in Mr. Ramsdell'salcove, " finished Mr. Grey with admirable self-possession. 

"I see that explanations from myself are not in order, " was the grimretort, launched with the bitterest sarcasm. Then as the full weight ofhis position crushed in on him, his face assumed an aspect startling tomy unaccustomed eyes, and, thrusting his hand into his pocket he drewforth a small box which he placed in Mr. Grey's hands. 

"The Great Mogul, " he declared simply. 

It was the first time I had heard this diamond so named. 

Without a word that gentleman opened the box, took one look at thecontents, assumed a satisfied air, and carefully deposited the recoveredgem in his own pocket. As his eyes returned to the man before him, allthe passion of the latter burst forth. 

"It was not for that I killed her!" cried he. "It was because she defiedme and flaunted her disobedience in my very face. I would do it again, yet--"

Here his voice broke and it was in a different tone and with a totalchange of manner he added: "You stand appalled at my depravity. You havenot lived my life. " Then quickly and with a touch of sullenness: "Yoususpected me because of the stiletto. It was a mistake, using thatstiletto. Otherwise, the plan was good. I doubt if you know now how Ifound my way into the alcove, possibly under your very eyes; certainly, under the eyes of many who knew me. "

"I do not. It is enough that you entered it; that you confess yourguilt. "

Here Mr. Grey stretched his hand toward the electric button. 

"No, it is not enough. " The tone was fierce, authoritative. "Do not ringthe bell, not yet. I have a fancy to tell you how I managed that littleaffair. "

Glancing about, he caught up from a near-by table a small brass tray. Emptying it of its contents, he turned on us with drawn-down featuresand an obsequious air so opposed to his natural manner that it was as ifanother man stood before us. 

"Pardon my black tie, " he muttered, holding out the tray toward Mr. Grey. 

Wellgood!

The room turned with me. It was he, then, the great financier, themultimillionaire, the husband of the magnificent Grizel, who had enteredMr. Ramsdell's house as a waiter!

Mr. Grey did not show surprise, but he made a gesture, when instantlythe tray was thrown aside and the man resumed his ordinary aspect. 

"I see you understand me, " he cried. "I who have played host at manya ball, passed myself off that night as one of the waiters. I came andwent and no one noticed me. It is such a natural sight to see a waiterpassing ices that my going in and out of the alcove did not attract theleast attention. I never look at waiters when I attend balls. I neverlook higher than their trays. No one looked at me higher than my tray. Iheld the stiletto under the tray and when I struck her she threw up herhands and they hit the tray and the cups fell. I have never been able tobear the sound of breaking china since. I loved her--"

A gasp and he recovered himself. 

"That is neither here nor there, " he muttered. "You summoned me underthreat to present myself at your door to-day. I have done so. I meantto restore you your diamond, simply. It has become worthless to me. Butfate exacted more. Surprise forced my secret from me. That young ladywith her damnable awkwardness has put my head in a noose. But donot think to hold it there. I did not risk this interview withoutprecautions, I assure you, and when I leave this hotel it will be as afree man. "

With one of his rapid changes, wonderful and inexplicable to me at themoment, he turned toward me with a bow, saying courteously enough:

"We will excuse the young lady. "

Next moment the barrel of a pistol gleamed in his hand. 

The moment was critical. Mr. Grey stood directly in the line of fire, and the audacious man who thus held him at his mercy was scarcely a footfrom the door leading into the hall. Marking the desperation of his lookand the steadiness of his finger on the trigger, I expected to see Mr. Grey recoil and the man escape. But Mr. Grey held his own, though hemade no move, and did not venture to speak. Nerved by his courage, Isummoned up all my own. This man must not escape, nor must Mr. Greysuffer. The pistol directed against him must be diverted to myself. Such amends were due one whose good name I had so deeply if secretlyinsulted. I had but to scream, to call out for the inspector, but aremembrance of the necessity we were now under of preserving our secret, of keeping from Mr. Grey the fact that he had been under surveillance, was even at that moment surrounded by the police, deterred me, and Ithrew myself toward the bell instead, crying out that I would raise thehouse if he moved, and laid my finger on the button. 

The pistol swerved my way. The face above it smiled. I watched thatsmile. Before it broadened to its full extent, I pressed the button. 

Fairbrother stared, dropped his pistol, and burst forth with these twowords:

"Brave girl!"

The tone I can never convey. 

Then he made for the door. 

As he laid his hand on the knob, he called back:

"I have been in worse straits than this!"

But he never had; when he opened the door, he found himself face to facewith the inspector. 

XXIII. THE GREAT MOGUL

Later, it was all explained. Mr. Grey, looking like another man, cameinto the room where I was endeavoring to soothe his startled daughterand devour in secret my own joy. Taking the sweet girl in his arms, hesaid, with a calm ignoring of my presence, at which I secretly smiled:

"This is the happiest moment of my existence, Helen. I feel as if I hadrecovered you from the brink of the grave. "

"Me? Why, I have never been so ill as that. "

"I know; but I have felt as if you were doomed ever since I heard, orthought I heard, in this city, and under no ordinary circumstances, thepeculiar cry which haunts our house on the eve of any great misfortune. I shall not apologize for my fears; you know that I have good cause forthem, but to-day, only to-day, I have heard from the lips of the mostarrant knave I have ever known, that this cry sprang from himself withintent to deceive me. He knew my weakness; knew the cry; he was inDarlington Manor when Cecilia died; and, wishing to startle me intodropping something which I held, made use of his ventriloquial powers(he had been a mountebank once, poor wretch!) and with such effect, thatI have not been a happy man since, in spite of your daily improvementand continued promise of recovery. But I am happy now, relieved andjoyful; and this miserable being, --would you like to hear his story? Areyou strong enough for anything so tragic? He is a thief and a murderer, but he has feelings, and his life has been a curious one, and strangelyinterwoven with ours. Do you care to hear about it? He is the man whostole our diamond. "

My patient uttered a little cry. 

"Oh, tell me, " she entreated, excited, but not unhealthfully; while Iwas in an anguish of curiosity I could with difficulty conceal. 

Mr. Grey turned with courtesy toward me and asked if a few familydetails would bore me. I smiled and assured him to the contrary. Atwhich he settled himself in the chair he liked best and began a talewhich I will permit myself to present to you complete and from otherpoints of view than his own. 

Some five years before, one of the great diamonds of the world wasoffered for sale in an Eastern market. Mr. Grey, who stopped at noexpense in the gratification of his taste in this direction, immediatelysent his agent to Egypt to examine this stone. If the agent discoveredit to be all that was claimed for it, and within the reach of a wealthycommoner's purse, he was to buy it. Upon inspection, it was found to beall that was claimed, with one exception. In the center of one of thefacets was a flaw, but, as this was considered to mark the diamond, andrather add to than detract from its value as a traditional stone withmany historical associations, it was finally purchased by Mr. Greyand placed among his treasures in his manor-house in Kent. Never asuspicious man, he took delight in exhibiting this acquisition to suchof his friends and acquaintances as were likely to feel any interest init, and it was not an uncommon thing for him to allow it to pass fromhand to hand while he pottered over his other treasures and displayedthis and that to such as had no eyes for the diamond. 

It was after one such occasion that he found, on taking the stone inhis hand to replace it in the safe he had had built for it in one ofhis cabinets, that it did not strike his eye with its usual force andbrilliancy, and, on examining it closely, he discovered the absence ofthe telltale flaw. Struck with dismay, he submitted it to a stillmore rigid inspection, when he found that what he held was not even adiamond, but a worthless bit of glass, which had been substituted bysome cunning knave for his invaluable gem. 

For the moment his humiliation almost equaled his sense of loss; he hadbeen so often warned of the danger he ran in letting so priceless anobject pass around under all eyes but his own. His wife and friends hadprophesied some such loss as this, not once, but many times, and hehad always laughed at their fears, saying that he knew his friends, andthere was not a scamp amongst them. But now he saw it proved thateven the intuition of a man well-versed in human nature is not alwaysinfallible, and, ashamed of his past laxness and more ashamed yet of thedoubts which this experience called up in regard to all his friends, heshut up the false stone with his usual care and buried his loss inhis own bosom, till he could sift his impressions and recall with somedegree of probability the circumstances under which this exchange couldhave been made. 

It had not been made that evening. Of this he was positive. The onlypersons present on this occasion were friends of such standing andrepute that suspicion in their regard was simply monstrous. When andto whom, then, had he shown the diamond last? Alas, it had been a longmonth since he had shown the jewel. Cecilia, his youngest daughter, haddied in the interim; therefore his mind had not been on jewels. A month!time for his precious diamond to have been carried back to the East!Time for it to have been recut! Surely it was lost to him for ever, unless he could immediately locate the person who had robbed him of it. 

But this promised difficulties. He could not remember just what personshe had entertained on that especial day in his little hall of cabinets, and, when he did succeed in getting a list of them from his butler, hewas by no means sure that it included the full number of his guests. Hisown memory was execrable, and, in short, he had but few facts to offerto the discreet agent sent up from Scotland Yard one morning to hearhis complaint and act secretly in his interests. He could give him carteblanche to carry on his inquiries in the diamond market, but littleelse. And while this seemed to satisfy the agent, it did not lead to anygratifying result to himself, and he had thoroughly made up his mind toswallow his loss and say nothing about it, when one day a young cousinof his, living in great style in an adjoining county, informed him thatin some mysterious way he had lost from his collection of arms a uniqueand highly-prized stiletto of Italian workmanship. 

Startled by this coincidence, Mr. Grey ventured upon a question or two, which led to his cousin's confiding to him the fact that this articlehad disappeared after a large supper given by him to a number of friendsand gentlemen from London. This piece of knowledge, still furthercoinciding with his own experience, caused Mr. Grey to ask for a listof his guests, in the hope of finding among them one who had been in hisown house. 

His cousin, quite unsuspicious of the motives underlying this request, hastened to write out this list, and together they pored over the names, crossing out such as were absolutely above suspicion. When they hadreached the end of the list, but two names remained uncrossed. Onewas that of a rattle-pated youth who had come in the wake of a highlyreputed connection of theirs, and the other that of an American touristwho gave all the evidences of great wealth and had presented lettersto leading men in London which had insured him attentions not usuallyaccorded to foreigners. This man's name was Fairbrother, and, the momentMr. Grey heard it, he recalled the fact that an American with a peculiarname, but with a reputation for wealth, had been among his guests on thesuspected evening. 

Hiding the effect produced upon him by this discovery, he placedhis finger on this name and begged his cousin to look up its owner'santecedents and present reputation in America; but, not content withthis, he sent his own agent over to New York--whither, as he soonlearned, this gentleman had returned. The result was an apparentvindication of the suspected American. He was found to be a well-knowncitizen of the great metropolis, moving in the highest circles and witha reputation for wealth won by an extraordinary business instinct. 

To be sure, he had not always enjoyed these distinctions. Like manyanother self-made man, he had risen from a menial position in a Westernmining camp, to be the owner of a mine himself, and so up through thevarious gradations of a successful life to a position among the foremostbusiness men of New York. In all these changes he had maintained aname for honest, if not generous, dealing. He lived in great style, hadmarried and was known to have but one extravagant fancy. This was forthe unique and curious in art, --a taste which, if report spoke true, cost him many thousands each year. 

This last was the only clause in the report which pointed in any waytoward this man being the possible abstractor of the Great Mogul, as Mr. Grey's famous diamond was called, and the latter was too just a man andtoo much of a fancier in this line himself to let a fact of this kindweigh against the favorable nature of the rest. So he recalled hisagent, double-locked his cabinets and continued to confine his displayof valuables to articles which did not suggest jewels. Thus three yearspassed, when one day he heard mention made of a wonderful diamond whichhad been seen in New York. From its description he gathered that it mustbe the one surreptitiously abstracted from his cabinet, and when, aftersome careful inquiries, he learned that the name of its possessor wasFairbrother, he awoke to his old suspicions and determined to probe thismatter to the bottom. But secretly. He still had too much considerationto attack a man in high position without full proof. 

Knowing of no one he could trust with so delicate an inquiry as thishad now become, he decided to undertake it himself, and for this purposeembraced the first opportunity to cross the water. He took his daughterwith him because he had resolved never to let his one remaining childout of his sight. But she knew nothing of his plans or reason fortravel. No one did. Indeed, only his lawyer and the police were aware ofthe loss of his diamond. 

His first surprise on landing was to learn that Mr. Fairbrother, ofwhose marriage he had heard, had quarreled with his wife and that, inthe separation which had occurred, the diamond had fallen to her shareand was consequently in her possession at the present moment. 

This changed matters, and Mr. Grey's only thought now was to surpriseher with the diamond on her person and by one glance assure himself thatit was indeed the Great Mogul. Since Mrs. Fairbrother was reported tobe a beautiful woman and a great society belle, he saw no reason why heshould not meet her publicly, and that very soon. He therefore acceptedinvitations and attended theaters and balls, though his daughter hadsuffered from her voyage and was not able to accompany him. But alas! hesoon learned that Mrs. Fairbrother was never seen with her diamond and, one evening after an introduction at the opera, that she nevertalked about it. So there he was, balked on the very threshold of hisenterprise, and, recognizing the fact, was preparing to take his nowseriously ailing daughter south, when he received an invitation to aball of such a select character that he decided to remain for it, in thehope that Mrs. Fairbrother would be tempted to put on all her splendorfor so magnificent a function and thus gratify him with a sight of hisown diamond. During the days that intervened he saw her several timesand very soon decided that, in spite of her reticence in regard to thisgem, she was not sufficiently in her husband's confidence to know thesecret of its real ownership. This encouraged him to attempt piquing herinto wearing the diamond on this occasion. He talked of precious stonesand finally of his own, declaring that he had a connoisseur's eye fora fine diamond, but had seen none as yet in America to compete with aspecimen or two he had in his own cabinets. Her eye flashed at thisand, though she said nothing, he felt sure that her presence at Mr. Ramsdell's house would be enlivened by her great jewel. 

So much for Mr. Grey's attitude in this matter up to the night of theball. It is interesting enough, but that of Abner Fairbrother is moreinteresting still and much more serious. 

His was indeed the hand which had abstracted the diamond from Mr. Grey'scollection. Under ordinary conditions he was an honest man. He prizedhis good name and would not willingly risk it, but he had little realconscience, and once his passions were aroused nothing short of theobject desired would content him. At once forceful and subtle, he had athis command infinite resources which his wandering and eventful life hadheightened almost to the point of genius. He saw this stone, and atonce felt an inordinate desire to possess it. He had coveted other men'streasures before, but not as he coveted this. What had been longingin other cases was mania in this. There was a woman in America whom heloved. She was beautiful and she was splendor-loving. To see her withthis glory on her breast would be worth almost any risk which hisimagination could picture at the moment. Before the diamond had lefthis hand he had made up his mind to have it for his own. He knew that itcould not be bought, so he set about obtaining it by an act he didnot hesitate to acknowledge to himself as criminal. But he did not actwithout precautions. Having a keen eye and a proper sense or size andcolor, he carried away from his first view of it a true image of thestone, and when he was next admitted to Mr. Grey's cabinet room hehad provided the means for deceiving the owner whose character he hadsounded. 

He might have failed in his daring attempt if he had not been favoredby a circumstance no one could have foreseen. A daughter of thehouse, Cecilia by name, lay critically ill at the time, and Mr. Grey'sattention was more or less distracted. Still the probabilities are thathe would have noticed something amiss with the stone when he came torestore it to its place, if, just as he took it in his hand, therehad not risen in the air outside a weird and wailing cry which at onceseized upon the imagination of the dozen gentlemen present, and sonearly prostrated their host that he thrust the box he held unopenedinto the safe and fell upon his knees, a totally unnerved man, crying:

"The banshee! the banshee! My daughter will die!"

Another hand than his locked the safe and dropped the key into thedistracted father's pocket. 

Thus a superhuman daring conjoined with a special intervention of fatehad made the enterprise a successful one; and Fairbrother, believingmore than ever in his star, carried this invaluable jewel back with himto New York. The stiletto--well, the taking of that was a folly, forwhich he had never ceased to blush. He had not stolen it; he would notsteal so inconsiderable an object. He had merely put it in his pocketwhen he saw it forgotten, passed over, given to him, as it were. Thatthe risk, contrary to that involved in the taking of the diamond, was far in excess of the gratification obtained, he realized almostimmediately, but, having made the break, and acquired the curio, hespared himself all further thought or the consequences, and presentlyresumed his old life in New York, none the worse, to all appearances, for these escapades from virtue and his usual course of fair and opendealing. 

But he was soon the worse from jealousy of the wife which hisnew possession had possibly won for him. She had answered all hisexpectations as mistress of his home and the exponent of his wealth; andfor a year, nay, for two, he had been perfectly happy. Indeed, hehad been more than that; he had been triumphant, especially on thatmemorable evening when, after a cautious delay of months, he had daredto pin that unapproachable sparkler to her breast and present her thusbedecked to the smart set--her whom his talents, and especially hisfar-reaching business talents, had made his own. 

Recalling the old days of barter and sale across the pine counter inColorado, he felt that his star rode high, and for a time wassatisfied with his wife's magnificence and the prestige she gavehis establishment. But pride is not all, even to a man of his daringambition. Gradually he began to realize, first, that she was indifferentto him, next, that she despised him, and, lastly, that she hated him. She had dozens at her feet, any of whom was more agreeable to her thanher own husband; and, though he could not put his finger on any definitefault, he soon wearied of a beauty that only glowed for others, and madeup his mind to part with her rather than let his heart be eaten out byunappeasable longing for what his own good sense told him would never behis. 

Yet, being naturally generous, he was satisfied with a separation, and, finding it impossible to think of her as other than extravagantly fed, waited on and clothed, he allowed her a good share of his fortune withthe one proviso, that she should not disgrace him. But the diamond shestole, or rather carried off in her naturally high-handed manner withthe rest of her jewels. He had never given it to hen She knew the valuehe set on it, but not how he came by it, and would have worn it quitefreely if he had not very soon given her to understand that the pleasureof doing so ceased when she left his house. As she could not be seenwith it without occasioning public remark, she was forced, thoughmuch against her will, to heed his wishes, and enjoy its brilliancy inprivate. But once, when he was out of town, she dared to appear withthis fortune on her breast, and again while on a visit West, --and herhusband heard of it. 

Mr. Fairbrother had had the jewel set to suit him, not in Florence, as Sears had said, but by a skilful workman he had picked up in greatpoverty in a remote corner of Williamsburg. Always in dread of somecomplication, he had provided himself with a second facsimile in paste, this time of an astonishing brightness, and this facsimile he had hadset precisely like the true stone. Then he gave the workman a thousanddollars and sent him back to Switzerland. This imitation in paste heshowed nobody, but he kept it always in his pocket; why, he hardly knew. Meantime, he had one confidant, not of his crime, but of his sentimentstoward his wife, and the determination he had secretly made to proceedto extremities if she continued to disobey him. 

This was a man of his own age or older, who had known him in his earlydays, and had followed all his fortunes. He had been the master ofFairbrother then, but he was his servant now, and as devoted to hisinterests as if they were his own, --which, in a way, they were. Foreighteen years he had stood at the latter's right hand, satisfied tolook no further, but, for the last three, his glances had strayed a footor two beyond his master, and taken in his master's wife. 

The feelings which this man had for Mrs. Fairbrother were peculiar. Shewas a mere adjunct to her great lord, but she was a very gorgeous one, and, while he could not imagine himself doing anything to thwart himwhose bread he ate, and to whose rise he had himself contributed, yetif he could remain true to him without injuring he; he would accounthimself happy. The day came when he had to decide between them, and, against all chances, against his own preconceived notion of what hewould do under these circumstances, he chose to consider her. 

This day came when, in the midst of growing complacency and an intenseinterest in some new scheme which demanded all his powers, AbnerFairbrother learned from the papers that Mr. Grey, of EnglishParliamentary fame, had arrived in New York on an indefinite visit. Asno cause was assigned for the visit beyond a natural desire on the partof this eminent statesman to see this great country, Mr. Fairbrother'sfears reached a sudden climax, and he saw himself ruined and for everdisgraced if the diamond now so unhappily out of his hands should fallunder the eyes of its owner, whose seeming quiet under its loss had notfor a moment deceived him. Waiting only long enough to make sure thatthe distinguished foreigner was likely to accept social attentions, andso in all probability would be brought in contact with Mrs. Fairbrother, he sent her by his devoted servant a peremptory message, in which hedemanded back his diamond; and, upon her refusing to heed this, followedit up by another, in which he expressly stated that if she took it outof the safe deposit in which he had been told she was wise enough tokeep it, or wore it so much as once during the next three months, shewould pay for her presumption with her life. 

This was no idle threat, though she chose to regard it as such, laughingin the old servant's face and declaring that she would run the risk ifthe notion seized her. But the notion did not seem to seize her at once, and her husband was beginning to take heart, when he heard of the greatball about to be given by the Ramsdells and realized that if she weregoing to be tempted to wear the diamond at all, it would be at thisbrilliant function given in honor of the one man he had most cause tofear in the whole world. 

Sears, seeing the emotion he was under, watched him closely. They hadboth been on the point of starting for New Mexico to visit a mine inwhich Mr. Fairbrother was interested, and he waited with inconceivableanxiety to see if his master would change his plans. It was while hewas in this condition of mind that he was seen to shake his fist at Mrs. Fairbrother's passing figure; a menace naturally interpreted as directedagainst her, but which, if we know the man, was rather the expression ofhis anger against the husband who could rebuke and threaten so beautifula creature. Meanwhile, Mr. Fairbrother's preparations went on and, threeweeks before the ball, they started. Mr. Fairbrother had business inChicago and business in Denver. It was two weeks and more before hereached La Junta. Sears counted the days. At La Junta they had a longconversation; or rather Mr. Fairbrother talked and Sears listened. Thesum of what he said was this: He had made up his mind to have back hisdiamond. He was going to New York to get it. He was going alone, and ashe wished no one to know that he had gone or that his plans had beenin any way interrupted, the other was to continue on to El Moro, and, passing himself off as Fairbrother, hire a room at the hotel and shuthimself up in it for ten days on any plea his ingenuity might suggest. If at the end of that time Fairbrother should rejoin him, well and good. They would go on together to Santa Fe. But if for any reason the formershould delay his return, then Sears was to exercise his own judgment asto the length of time he should retain his borrowed personality; also asto the advisability of pushing on to the mine and entering on the workthere, as had been planned between them. 

Sears knew what all this meant. He understood what was in his master'smind, as well as if he had been taken into his full confidence, andopenly accepted his part of the business with seeming alacrity, even tothe point of supplying Fairbrother with suitable references as to theability of one James Wellgood to fill a waiter's place at fashionablefunctions. It was not the first he had given him. Seventeen years beforehe had written the same, minus the last phrase. That was when he wasthe master and Fairbrother the man. But he did not mean to play thepart laid out for him, for all his apparent acquiescence. He began byfollowing the other's instructions. He exchanged clothes with him andother necessaries, and took the train for La Junta at or near the timethat Fairbrother started east. But once at El Moro--once registeredthere as Abner Fairbrother from New York--he took a different coursefrom the one laid out for him, --a course which finally brought him intohis master's wake and landed him at the same hour in New York. 

This is what he did. Instead of shutting himself up in his room heexpressed an immediate desire to visit some neighboring mines, and, procuring a good horse, started off at the first available moment. Herode north, lost himself in the mountains, and wandered till he found aguide intelligent enough to lend himself to his plans. To this guide heconfided his horse for the few days he intended to be gone, payinghim well and promising him additional money if, during his absence, hesucceeded in circulating the report that he, Abner Fairbrother, had gonedeep into the mountains, bound for such and such a camp. 

Having thus provided an alibi, not only for himself, but for his master, too, in case he should need it, he took the direct road to the nearestrailway station, and started on his long ride east. He did not expect toovertake the man he had been personating, but fortune was kinder than isusual in such cases, and, owing to a delay caused by some accident toa freight train, he arrived in Chicago within a couple of hours of Mr. Fairbrother, and started out of that city on the same train. But not onthe same car. Sears had caught a glimpse of Fairbrother on the platform, and was careful to keep out of his sight. This was easy enough. Hebought a compartment in the sleeper and stayed in it till they arrivedat the Grand Central Station. Then he hastened out and, fortune favoringhim with another glimpse of the man in whose movements he was sointerested, followed him into the streets. 

Fairbrother had shaved off his beard before leaving El Moro. Sears hadshaved his off on the train. Both were changed, the former the more, owing to a peculiarity of his mouth which up till now he had alwaysthought best to cover. Sears, therefore, walked behind him without fear, and was almost at his heels when this owner of one of New York's mostnotable mansions, entered, with a spruce air, the doors of a prominentcaterer. 

Understanding the plot now, and having everything to fear for hismistress, he walked the streets for some hours in a state of greatindecision. Then he went up to her apartment. But he had no sooner comewithin sight of it than a sense of disloyalty struck him and he slunkaway, only to come sidling back when it was too late and she had startedfor the ball. 

Trembling with apprehension, but still strangely divided in hisimpulses, wishing to serve master and mistress both, without disloyaltyto the one or injury to the other, he hesitated and argued with himself, till his fears for the latter drove him to Mr. Ramsdell's house. 

The night was a stormy one. The heaviest snow of the season was fallingwith a high gale blowing down the Sound. As he approached the house, which, as we know, is one of the modern ones in the Riverside district, he felt his heart fail him. But as he came nearer and got the fulleffect of glancing lights, seductive music, and the cheery bustle ofcrowding carriages, he saw in his mind's eye such a picture of hisbeautiful mistress, threatened, unknown to herself, in a quarter shelittle realized, that he lost all sense of what had hitherto deterredhim. Making then and there his great choice, he looked about for theentrance, with the full intention of seeing and warning her. 

But this, he presently perceived, was totally impracticable. He couldneither go to her nor expect her to come to him; meanwhile, time waspassing, and if his master was there--The thought made his head dizzy, and, situated as he was, among the carriages, he might have been runover in his confusion if his eyes had not suddenly fallen on a lightedwindow, the shade of which had been inadvertently left up. 

Within this window, which was only a few feet above his head, stood theglowing image of a woman clad in pink and sparkling with jewels. Herface was turned from him, but he recognized her splendor as that of theone woman who could never be too gorgeous for his taste; and, alive tothis unexpected opportunity, he made for this window with the intentionof shouting up to her and so attracting her attention. 

But this proved futile, and, driven at last to the end of his resources, he tore out a slip of paper from his note-book and, in the dark and withthe blinding snow in his eyes, wrote the few broken sentences which hethought would best warn her, without compromising his master. The meanshe took to reach her with this note I have already related. As soon ashe saw it in her hands he fled the place and took the first train west. He was in a pitiable condition, when, three days later, he reachedthe small station from which he had originally set out. The haste, theexposure, the horror of the crime he had failed to avert, had underminedhis hitherto excellent constitution, and the symptoms of a seriousillness were beginning to make themselves manifest. But he, like hisindomitable master, possessed a great fund of energy and willpower. He saw that if he was to save Abner Fairbrother (and now that Mrs. Fairbrother was dead, his old master was all the world to him) he mustmake Fairbrother's alibi good by carrying on the deception as plannedby the latter, and getting as soon as possible to his camp in the NewMexico mountains. He knew that he would have strength to do this and hewent about it without sparing himself. 

Making his way into the mountains, he found the guide and his horse atthe place agreed upon and, paying the guide enough for his services toinsure a quiet tongue, rode back toward El Moro where he was met andsent on to Santa Fe as already related. 

Such is the real explanation of the well-nigh unintelligible scrawlfound in Mrs. Fairbrother's hand after her death. As to the one whichleft Miss Grey's bedside for this same house, it was, alike in thewriting and sending, the loving freak of a very sick but tender-heartedgirl. She had noted the look with which Mr. Grey had left her, and, inher delirious state, thought that a line in her own hand would convincehim of her good condition and make it possible for him to enjoy theevening. She was, however, too much afraid of her nurse to write itopenly, and though we never found that scrawl, it was doubtless not verydifferent in appearance from the one with which I had confounded it. Theman to whom it was intrusted stopped for too many warming drinks on hisway for it ever to reach Mr. Ramsdell's house. He did not even returnhome that night, and when he did put in an appearance the next morning, he was dismissed. 

This takes me back to the ball and Mrs. Fairbrother. She had never hadmuch fear of her husband till she received his old servant's note in thepeculiar manner already mentioned. This, coming through the night andthe wet and with all the marks of hurry upon it, did impress her greatlyand led her to take the first means which offered of ridding herself ofher dangerous ornament. The story of this we know. 

Meanwhile, a burning heart and a scheming brain were keeping up theirdeadly work a few paces off under the impassive aspect and activemovements of the caterer's newly-hired waiter. Abner Fairbrother, whosereal character no one had ever been able to sound, unless it was the manwho had known him in his days of struggle, was one of those dangerousmen who can conceal under a still brow and a noiseless manner the mostviolent passions and the most desperate resolves. He was angry with hiswife, who was deliberately jeopardizing his good name, and he had comethere to kill her if he found her flaunting the diamond in Mr. Grey'seyes; and though no one could have detected any change in his look andmanner as he passed through the room where these two were standing, thedoom of that fair woman was struck when he saw the eager scrutinyand indescribable air of recognition with which this long-defraudedgentleman eyed his own diamond. 

He had meant to attack her openly, seize the diamond, fling it at Mr. Grey's feet, and then kill himself. That had been his plan. But when hefound, after a round or two among the guests, that nobody looked at him, and nobody recognized the well-known millionaire in the automaton-likefigure with the formally-arranged whiskers and sleekly-combed hair, colder purposes intervened, and he asked himself if it would not bepossible to come upon her alone, strike his blow, possess himself ofthe diamond, and make for parts unknown before his identity could bediscovered. He loved life even without the charm cast over it by thiswoman. Its struggles and its hard-bought luxuries fascinated him. IfMr. Grey suspected him, why, Mr. Grey was English, and he a resourcefulAmerican. If it came to an issue, the subtle American would win if Mr. Grey were not able to point to the flaw which marked this diamond as hisown. And this, Fairbrother had provided against, and would succeed in ifhe could hold his passions in check and be ready with all his wit whenmatters reached a climax. 

Such were the thoughts and such the plans of the quiet, attentiveman who, with his tray laden with coffee and ices, came and went anunnoticed unit among twenty other units similarly quiet and similarlyattentive. He waited on lady after lady, and when, on the reissuing ofMr. Durand from the alcove, he passed in there with his tray and his twocups of coffee, nobody heeded and nobody remembered. 

It was all over in a minute, and he came out, still unnoted, and wentto the supper-room for more cups of coffee. But that minute had set itsseal on his heart for ever. She was sitting there alone with her sideto the entrance, so that he had to pass around in order to face her. Herelegance and a certain air she had of remoteness from the scene of whichshe was the glowing center when she smiled, awed him and made his handloosen a little on the slender stiletto he held close against the bottomof the tray. But such resolution does not easily yield, and his fingerssoon tightened again, this time with a deadly grip. 

He had expected to meet the flash of the diamond as he bent over her, and dreaded doing so for fear it would attract his eye from her face andso cost him the sight of that startled recognition which would give thedesired point to his revenge. But the tray, as he held it, shielded herbreast from view, and when he lowered it to strike his blow, he thoughtof nothing but aiming so truly as to need no second blow. He had hadhis experience in those old years in a mining camp, and he did notfear failure in this. What he did fear was her utterance of somecry, --possibly his name. But she was stunned with horror, and did notshriek, --horror of him whose eyes she met with her glassy and staringones as he slowly drew forth the weapon. 

Why he drew it forth instead of leaving it in her breast he could notsay. Possibly because it gave him his moment of gloating revenge. Whenin another instant, her hands flew up, and the tray tipped, and thechina fell, the revulsion came, and his eyes opened to two facts: theinstrument of death was still in his grasp, and the diamond, on whosepossession he counted, was gone from his wife's breast. 

It was a horrible moment. Voices could be heard approaching thealcove, --laughing voices that in an instant would take on the note ofhorror. And the music, --ah! how low it had sunk, as if to give place tothe dying murmur he now heard issuing from her lips. But he was a man ofiron. Thrusting the stiletto into the first place that offered, he drewthe curtains over the staring windows, then slid out with his tray, calm, speckless and attentive as ever, dead to thought, dead to feeling, but aware, quite aware in the secret depths of his being that somethingbesides his wife had been killed that night, and that sleep and peace ofmind and all pleasure in the past were gone for ever. 

It was not he I saw enter the alcove and come out with news of thecrime. He left this role to one whose antecedents could better bearinvestigation. His part was to play, with just the proper display ofhorror and curiosity, the ordinary menial brought face to face with acrime in high life. He could do this. He could even sustain his sharein the gossip, and for this purpose kept near the other waiters. Theabsence of the diamond was all that troubled him. That brought him attimes to the point of vertigo. Had Mr. Grey recognized and claimed it?If so, he, Abner Fairbrother, must remain James Wellgood, the waiter, indefinitely. This would require more belief in his star than ever hehad had yet. But as the moments passed, and no contradiction was givento the universally-received impression that the same hand which hadstruck the blow had taken the diamond, even this cause of anxiety lefthis breast and he faced people with more and more courage till themoment when he suddenly heard that the diamond had been found in thepossession of a man perfectly strange to him, and saw the inspector passit over into the hands of Mr. Grey. 

Instantly he realized that the crisis of his fate was on him. If Mr. Grey were given time to identify this stone, he, Abner Fairbrother, waslost and the diamond as well. Could he prevent this? There was but oneway, and that way he took. Making use of his ventriloquial powers--hehad spent a year on the public stage in those early days, playing justsuch tricks as these--he raised the one cry which he knew would startleMr. Grey more than any other in the world, and when the diamond fellfrom his hand, as he knew it would, he rushed forward and, in the act ofpicking it up, made that exchange which not only baffled the suspicionsof the statesman, but restored to him the diamond, for whose possessionhe was now ready to barter half his remaining days. 

Meanwhile Mr. Grey had had his own anxieties. During this whole longevening, he had been sustained by the conviction that the diamond ofwhich he had caught but one passing glimpse was the Great Mogul of hisonce famous collection. So sure was he of this, that at one moment hefound himself tempted to enter the alcove, demand a closer sight of thediamond and settle the question then and there. He even went so far asto take in his hands the two cups of coffee which should serve as hisexcuse for this intrusion, but his naturally chivalrous instincts againintervened, and he set the cups down again--this I did not see--andturned his steps toward the library with the intention of writing her anote instead. But though he found paper and pen to hand, he could findno words for so daring a request, and he came back into the hall, onlyto hear that the woman he had contemplated addressing had just beenmurdered and her great jewel stolen. 

The shock was too much, and as there was no leaving the house then, he retreated again to the library where he devoured his anxietiesin silence till hope revived again at sight of the diamond in theinspector's hand, only to vanish under the machinations of one he didnot even recognize when he took the false jewel from his hand. 

The American had outwitted the Englishman and the triumph of evil wascomplete. 

Or so it seemed. But if the Englishman is slow, he is sure. Thrown offthe track for the time being, Mr. Grey had only to see a picture of thestiletto in the papers, to feel again that, despite all appearances, Fairbrother was really not only at the bottom of the thefts from whichhis cousin and himself had suffered, but of this frightful murder aswell. He made no open move--he was a stranger in a strange land andmuch disturbed, besides, by his fears for his daughter--but he started asecret inquiry through his old valet, whom he ran across in the street, and whose peculiar adaptability for this kind of work he well knew. 

The aim of these inquiries was to determine if the person, whom twophysicians and three assistants were endeavoring to nurse back to healthon the top of a wild plateau in a remote district of New Mexico, wasthe man he had once entertained at his own board in England, and theadventures thus incurred would make a story in itself. But the resultseemed to justify them. Word came after innumerable delays, very tryingto Mr. Grey, that he was not the same, though he bore the name ofFairbrother, and was considered by every one around there to beFairbrother. Mr. Grey, ignorant of the relations between the millionairemaster and his man which sometimes led to the latter's personifying theformer, was confident of his own mistake and bitterly ashamed of his ownsuspicions. 

But a second message set him right. A deception was being practiseddown in New Mexico, and this was how his spy had found it out. Certainletters which went into the sick tent were sent away again, and alwaysto one address. He had learned the address. It was that of JamesWellgood, C--, Maine. If Mr. Grey would look up this Wellgood he woulddoubtless learn something of the man he was so interested in. 

This gave Mr. Grey personally something to do, for he would trust nosecond party with a message involving the honor of a possibly innocentman. As the place was accessible by railroad and his duty clear, he tookthe journey involved and succeeded in getting a glimpse in the manner weknow of the man James Wellgood. This time he recognized Fairbrother and, satisfied from the circumstances of the moment that he would bemaking no mistake in accusing him of having taken the Great Mogul, heintercepted him in his flight, as you have already read, and demandedthe immediate return of his great diamond. 

And Fairbrother? We shall have to go back a little to bring his historyup to this critical instant. 

When he realized the trend of public opinion; when he saw a perfectlyinnocent man committed to the Tombs for his crime, he was firstastonished and then amused at what he continued to regard as the triumphof his star. But he did not start for El Moro, wise as he felt it wouldbe to do so. Something of the fascination usual with criminals kepthim near the scene of his crime, --that, and an anxiety to see how Searswould conduct himself in the Southwest. That Sears had followed him toNew York, knew his crime, and was the strongest witness against him, wasas far from his thoughts as that he owed him the warning which had allbut balked him of his revenge. When therefore he read in the papers that"Abner Fairbrother" had been found sick in his camp at Santa Fe, he feltthat nothing now stood in the way of his entering on the plans he hadframed for ultimate escape. On his departure from El Moro he had takenthe precaution of giving Sears the name of a certain small town onthe coast of Maine where his mail was to be sent in case of a greatemergency. He had chosen this town for two reasons. First, because heknew all about it, having had a young man from there in his employ;secondly, because of its neighborhood to the inlet where an oldlaunch of his had been docked for the winter. Always astute, alwaysprecautionary, he had given orders to have this launch floated andprovisioned, so that now he had only to send word to the captain, tohave at his command the best possible means of escape. 

Meanwhile, he must make good his position in C--. He did it in the waywe know. Satisfied that the only danger he need fear was the discoveryof the fraud practised in New Mexico, he had confidence enough in Sears, even in his present disabled state, to take his time and make himselfsolid with the people of C--while waiting for the ice to disappear fromthe harbor. This accomplished and cruising made possible, he took aflying trip to New York to secure such papers and valuables as he wishedto carry out of the country with him. They were in safe deposit, butthat safe deposit was in his strong room in the center of his house inEighty-sixth Street (a room which you will remember in connection withSweetwater's adventure). To enter his own door with his own latch-key, in the security and darkness of a stormy night, seemed to thisself-confident man a matter of no great risk. Nor did he find it so. He reached his strong room, procured his securities and was leavingthe house, without having suffered an alarm, when some instinct ofself-preservation suggested to him the advisability of arming himselfwith a pistol. His own was in Maine, but he remembered where Sears kepthis; he had seen it often enough in that old trunk he had brought withhim from the Sierras. He accordingly went up stairs to the steward'sroom, found the pistol and became from that instant invincible. But inrestoring the articles he had pulled out he came across a photographof his wife and lost himself over it and went mad, as we have heard thedetective tell. That later, he should succeed in trapping this detectiveand should leave the house without a qualm as to his fate shows whatsort of man he was in moments of extreme danger. I doubt, from what Ihave heard of him since, if he ever gave two thoughts to the man afterhe had sprung the double lock on him; which, considering his extremeignorance of who his victim was or what relation he bore to his ownfate, was certainly remarkable. 

Back again in C--, he made his final preparations for departure. He hadalready communicated with the captain of the launch, who may or may nothave known his passenger's real name. He says that he supposed him to besome agent of Mr. Fairbrother's; that among the first orders he receivedfrom that gentleman was one to the effect that he was to follow theinstructions of one Wellgood as if they came from himself; that he haddone so, and not till he had Mr. Fairbrother on board had he known whomhe was expected to carry into other waters. However, there are manywho do not believe the captain. Fairbrother had a genius for rousingdevotion in the men who worked for him, and probably this man wasanother Sears. 

To leave speculation, all was in train, then, and freedom but a quarterof a mile away, when the boat he was in was stopped by another and heheard Mr. Grey's voice demanding the jewel. 

The shock was severe and he had need of all the nerve which had hithertomade his career so prosperous, to sustain the encounter with thecalmness which alone could carry off the situation. Declaring that thediamond was in New York, he promised to restore it if the other wouldmake the sacrifice worth while by continuing to preserve his hithertoadmirable silence concerning him: Mr. Grey responded by granting himjust twenty-four hours; and when Fairbrother said the time was notlong enough and allowed his hand to steal ominously to his breast, herepeated still more decisively, "Twenty-four hours. "

The ex-miner honored bravery. Withdrawing his hand from his breast, he brought out a note-book instead of a pistol and, in a tone fully asdetermined, replied: "The diamond is in a place inaccessible to any onebut myself. If you will put your name to a promise not to betray me forthe thirty-six hours I ask, I will sign one to restore you the diamondbefore one-thirty o'clock on Friday. "

"I will, " said Mr. Grey. 

So the promises were written and duly exchanged. Mr. Grey returned toNew York and Fairbrother boarded his launch. 

The diamond really was in New York, and to him it seemed more politic touse it as a means of securing Mr. Grey's permanent silence than to flythe country, leaving a man behind him who knew his secret and couldprecipitate his doom with a word. He would, therefore, go to New York, play his last great card and, if he lost, be no worse off than he wasnow. He did not mean to lose. 

But he had not calculated on any inherent weakness in himself, --had notcalculated on Providence. A dish tumbled and with it fell into chaos thefair structure of his dreams. With the cry of "Grizel! Grizel!" he gaveup his secret, his hopes and his life. There was no retrieval possibleafter that. The star of Abner Fairbrother had set. 

Mr. Grey and his daughter learned very soon of my relations to Mr. Durand, but through the precautions of the inspector and my own powersof self-control, no suspicion has ever crossed their minds of the part Ionce played in the matter of the stiletto. 

This was amply proved by the invitation Mr. Durand and I have justreceived to spend our honeymoon at Darlington Manor.