XXI
FLEMING STONE
At dinner and during Saturday evening, Janet seemed so sad and depressedin spirits, that I seconded Laura's efforts to divert her mind from allthoughts of the tragedy.
It was not so difficult as it might seem, for the girl's strangetemperament was volatile, and her thoughts were easily led to anysubject we suggested. We talked of books and music, and finally ofpersonal acquaintances, discovering that we had a few in common.Although I did not know the Warings personally they were acquaintancesof some friends of mine, and I gathered from Janet's remarks thatMillicent Waring was one of her intimates.
The evening passed pleasantly enough, but after Laura had carried Janetaway to rest for the night, I sat and pondered deeply over my case.
Try as I would, I could not feel that Mr. Gresham had any guiltyknowledge of the affair; and if he had, I could think of no way to turnsuspicion in his direction. Except, of course, through the handkerchief,which now seemed to me an insoluble mystery.
And except for the slender hope resting upon that handkerchief, I hadnothing to offer in the way of evidence against any person or personsother than the girl I loved. It was then that I bethought me of FlemingStone. I had recently heard of the marvellous work this great detectivehad done in the Maxwell case, and I wondered that I had not thought ofhim before. Beside his powers the efforts of minor detectives paled intoinsignificance. His services were expensive, I knew, but George Lawrencehad authorized the employment of a detective, and I did not believe hewould object to the outlay. Then, too, my client was now a rich woman,or would be, as soon as the estate was settled.
I admitted my own inability to read the mystery in the clues I had at mydisposal, but I felt sure that Stone could do so.
Then the horrible thought struck me, what if Stone's inexorable fingershould point toward Janet! But this I would not allow myself toconsider, for I could not believe it possible; and, moreover, withoutStone's intervention, the law was determined to accuse Janet, anyway,therefore Stone's help was the only possible chance I could see forhelp.
And so I went to bed with a hopeful heart, that since truth musttriumph, and since Fleming Stone could discover the truth if any onecould, that Janet's exoneration was practically assured.
I was uncertain whether or not to tell Janet of my decision to consultFleming Stone. And all Sunday morning I hesitated about the matter.
It was late Sunday afternoon before I concluded that it would be betterto inform her of my plan, and this conclusion was really brought aboutmore by opportunity than by decision.
Laura had gone out, and Janet and I sat alone in our pleasant library.The girl looked so sweet and dear, in her pathetic black robes, that myheart yearned to comfort her. Her face was sad and very gentle ofexpression; her dark eyes showing that wistful look that I had learnedto watch for. The corners of her red mouth drooped a little, and shelooked like a tired child who ought to be protected and cared foragainst all misfortune.
"I thought George would come up this afternoon," she said, as she stoodlooking idly out of the window, where her slight black-robed figure madea lovely picture against the background of the gold-colored silkcurtain.
"I'm glad he didn't," I said involuntarily; "I'm glad to have you tomyself."
She looked up startled, for I never before expressed a hint of mypersonal feeling toward her. What she read in my eyes must have beenintelligible to her, for her own lids dropped, and a soft pink blushshowed faintly on her pale cheeks.
"Do you mind that I want you to myself?" I said, going to her side.
"No," she replied and again she gave me a fleeting glance that provedher not entirely unconscious of my meaning, and not offended by it.
"Janet," I went on, taking both her hands in mine, "it may seem dreadfulto tell you now, when I've known you but a few days, but I must tell youthat I love you. You know it, of course, and believe me, dear, I'm notasking you to respond,--yet. Just let me love you now, until thiswretched business is finished, and then, after that, let me teach you tolove me."
"It's too late for you to do that," she whispered, and then, overcomewith this sudden knowledge, I clasped her in my arms and realized themeaning of the tenderness in her eyes and the wistful droop of herscarlet lips.
"You darling," I murmured, as I held her close; "you precious,contradictory bit of feminine humanity! This is the most blessed of allyour contradictions, for I never dreamed that you already loved me."
"But you can't doubt it now, can you?" she returned, as she rested,contentedly, in my embrace.
"No, dearest, you are not easy to understand, there is much about yournature that puzzles me, but when that true, sincere look comes into youreyes, I _know_ you are in earnest. Oh, Janet, my darling, how happy weshall be after all this troublesome mystery is cleared up, and you and Ican devote our whole life to caring for each other."
"I shall be so glad to be happy," she said, with a wistful little sigh,and I remembered that her life, so far, had given her little or no joy.
"Sweetheart," I said, "my life purpose henceforth shall be to give youhappiness enough to make up for the sad years you have spent.
"You can easily do that, my dear," and the tenderness in her eyes fairlytransfigured her. And then, with a pretty impetuous gesture, she hid herface on my shoulder.
"But it doesn't seem possible," I said, after a time, "that you canreally love me when you've known me but a few days."
"That doesn't count in a love like ours," said Janet, speaking almostsolemnly. "It is not the kind that requires time to grow."
"No," I agreed, "it was born full grown. I always told Laura that whenI fell in love it would be at first sight, and it was. The marvellouspart, dear, is that you care, too."
"Care!" she exclaimed, and the depths of love in her eyes gave me a hintof her emotional nature; "but," she went on, "this is all wrong. Youmust not talk to me like this, and I must not listen to it. I am undersuspicion of having committed a crime. Surely you cannot love me until Iam freed from that."
"But you are not guilty?"
I asked the question not because of any doubt in my own mind, butbecause I wanted for once to hear her own statement of her innocence.
"That I shall not tell you," she said, and her eyes took on a faraway,inscrutable look, as of a sphinx; "that you must find out for yourself.Or rather, no, I don't want you to find out. I want it always to remaina mystery."
"What, Janet! you don't want me to find out who killed your uncle!"
"Oh, no, no!" and her voice rang out in agonized entreaty; "pleasedon't, Otis; _please_ don't try to find out who did it!"
"But then, dear, how can you be freed from suspicion? and I want to tellyou, Janet, I want to tell you now, while I hold you in my arms,--Iwant to tell you in the same breath that I tell you of my love,--thatyou will be accused of this crime, unless the real criminal isdiscovered."
"How do you know I'm not the real criminal?"
"I know it for two reasons. First, because I love you, and I'm tellingyou so; and second, because you love me, and----"
"I'm not telling you so," she interrupted, and a look of pain came intoher dear eyes as she tried to resist my embrace.
"You don't have to tell me, dear," I said, quietly, "I know it. But youmust tell me who it is that you are trying to shield by your strangeways and words. Is it Leroy? It can't be Charlotte."
"I'm not shielding anybody," she cried out; "the jury people proved thatI must have killed Uncle Robert myself, and so, you see, I must havedone so."
"Now you're talking childishly," I said, as I soothed her, gently; "ofcourse you didn't kill him, darling; but you do know more about it thanyou have yet told, and you must tell me, because I'm going to save youfrom any further unpleasantness. I wish I could understand you, youbewitching mystery! You are surely shielding some one. It can't be thatabsurd J. S. I hardly think it can be the man of the handkerchief; oh,but I haven't told you about that yet. It can't be George,--because hehas a perfec
t alibi."
"I suppose if it were not for that alibi, George might be suspected,"said Janet slowly.
"Indeed he might, but as there are people to swear to his presence inanother part of town at the time of the crime, he is beyond suspicion. Iwish you had such an alibi, dearest."
"Oh, I wish I did! Otis, what do _you_ think? You know I was locked inthat house and nobody could get in. You know I didn't kill Uncle Robert.Now who did?"
"Janet," I said, very seriously, "I don't know. And I have nearly losthope of finding out. So I will tell you what I have decided to do; I'mgoing to consult Fleming Stone."
"Fleming Stone? Who is he?"
"He is probably the cleverest detective in the city. I feel sure that hecan solve our mystery, if he will undertake it."
"Oh, don't have a detective!" she cried; "at least, not that Mr. Stone.He can find out everything!"
"And don't you want everything found out?" I asked, looking at herintently.
"No!" she cried vehemently. "I don't! I want Uncle Robert's deathalways to remain a mystery!"
"It can't be a greater mystery than you are!" I exclaimed, for the wordswere wrung from me as I looked at the girl's face, which had again takenon that white, impassive look.
It was at that moment that Laura returned, and as she entered thelibrary, Janet fled away to her own room.
Laura looked at me questioningly, and I told her quite frankly all thathad passed between Janet and myself.
She kissed me tenderly, like the dear sister that she is, and said;"Don't worry, Otis; it will come out all right. I know Janet much betterthan you do. She is innocent, of course, but she is so unnerved anddistraught with these dreadful days, that I'm only surprised she bearsup as well as she does. Leave her to me, and you go and get your FlemingStone, and use every effort to persuade him to take the case."
As it had been my life-long habit to take Laura's advice, especiallywhen it coincided with my own inclination I started off at once to huntup Fleming Stone.
I knew the man slightly, having run across him a few times in abusiness way, and I knew that not only were his services exceedinglyhigh-priced, but also that he never took any case unless of greatdifficulty and peculiar interest. I hoped, however, that thecircumstances of the Pembroke affair would appeal to him, and Idetermined to use every effort to interest him in it.
By good fortune, I found him at home, and willing to listen to astatement of my business.
FLEMING STONE]
Fleming Stone's personality was not at all of the taciturn, inscrutablevariety. He was a large man, of genial and charming manner, andpossessed of a personal magnetism that seemed to invite confidence andconfidences. I knew him well enough to know that if I could win hisinterest at all it would be by a brief statement of the mystery as apuzzle, and a request that he help me solve it.
"Mr. Stone," I began, "if three persons spent the night in an apartmentso securely locked on the inside that there was no possible means ofingress, and if in the morning it was found that one of those threepersons had been murdered at midnight, would you say that the guilt mustrest upon either one or both of the other two persons?"
At any rate, I had succeeded in catching the man's attention.
As there was no question of personal feeling in my statement, he seemedto look at it as an abstract problem, and replied at once:
"According to the facts as you have stated them, the guilt mustnecessarily rest upon one or both of the other two persons. But this isassuming that it really was a murder, that there really was no mode ofingress, and that there really were no other persons in the apartment."
Having secured Fleming Stone's interest in the abstract statement, Iproceeded to lay before him the concrete story of the Pembroke affair.
He listened gravely, asking only one or two questions, and when I hadtold him all I knew about it he sat thinking for a few moments.
At last, unable to control my impatience, I said: "Do you now think theguilt rests upon either one or both of those women?"
As I have said, Mr. Stone was not of the secretive and close-mouthedstyle of detective, and he said in his frank and pleasant way: "Not_necessarily_, by any means. Indeed, from what you have told me, Ishould say that the two women knew nothing about the crime until themorning. But this, of course, is a mere surmise, based on _your_ accountof the case."
As I had told him the facts as I knew them, with all their horribleincrimination of Janet, I was greatly relieved at his words.
"Then," said I, "will you take up the case, and find the criminal assoon as may be? Money is no object, but time is precious, as I stronglydesire to avoid any possibility of a trial of Miss Pembroke."
"Have you any other clues other than those you have told me?"
"I haven't told you any," I said, in some surprise; "but we certainlyhave several."
He listened with the greatest attention, while I told him in rapidsuccession of the key, the time-table, the ticket stubs, the torntelegram, the handkerchief, and finally, the missing money.
"Have you traced these to their sources?" he inquired.
"We have, and each one led to a different man."
I then told him of Jonathan Scudder, of Graham Leroy, of James Decker,and of William Sydney Gresham, and he listened with a half-smile on hispleasant, responsive face.
"Of course you can see all these clues for yourself," I went on, "and Ifeel sure, Mr. Stone, that by an examination of them, you can deducemuch of the personality of the criminal."
"I don't care to see them," was his astonishing answer; "I have alreadydeduced from them the evidence that they clearly show."
"Your statement would amaze me," I said, "except that I had resolved notto be surprised at anything you might say or do, for I know your methodsare mysterious and your powers little short of miraculous."
"Don't credit me with supernatural ability, Mr. Landon," said Stone,smiling genially. "Let me compliment you on the graphic way in which youhave described that collection of clues. I can fairly see them, in mymind's eye lying before me. Were not the ticket stubs bent and brokenand a good deal soiled?"
"They were," I said, staring at him.
"And was the time-table smudged with dirt, and perhaps bearing animpress of tiny dots in regular rows?"
"Now I know you're a wizard!" I exclaimed, "for that's exactly what Idid see! such a mark on the first page of that time-table!"
"It might easily not have been there," said Stone, musingly; "I confessI chanced that. It was merely a hazard, but it helps. Yes, Mr. Landon,your collection of clues is indeed valuable and of decided assistance indiscovering the identity of the person or persons unknown."
It struck a chill to my heart that Fleming Stone seemed to avoid the useof a masculine pronoun. Could he, too, think that a woman wasimplicated, and if not, why didn't he say the man who committed thecrime, instead of dodging behind the vague term he had used. With adesperate idea of forcing this point, I said; "The Coroner believes thatsince the weapon used was a hat-pin, the criminal was a woman."
"Why did you say it was a hat-pin?" said Fleming Stone, and I realizedthat his brain was already busy with the subtleties of the case.
"The doctors stated that it was part of a hat-pin, the other end ofwhich had been broken off."
"Did you see the pin that was extracted from the wound?"
"I did."
"How long was it?"
"Almost exactly four inches."
"And are you prepared to affirm that it is part of a hat-pin, and not acomplete pin of a shorter length?"
"I am not. The thought did not before occur to me. But as it had no headon it, we assumed that it was probably the half of a broken hat-pin. Itis by no means the first instance on record of using a hat-pin as amurderous weapon."
"No," said Fleming Stone; "and yet that does not prove it a hat-pin. Mayit not have been a shawl-pin, or some shorter pin that women use intheir costumes?"
"It may have been," said I; "but women do not wear shawls
nowadays. Atany rate, any pin of that length would seem to indicate a woman'scrime."
"Well, as a rule," said Fleming Stone, smiling, "we men do not pin ourgarments together; but I dare say almost any man, if he wanted one,could gain possession of such a pin."
How true this was, and how foolish we had been to assume that a woman'spin _must_ have meant a woman's crime! A picture passed through my mindof Laura's dressing-table, where I could have procured any kind of apin, with no trouble whatever.
"Moreover," went on Fleming Stone, "the great majority of hat-pins usedin America will not break. They will bend, as they are usually made ofiron, though occasionally of steel."
I looked at the man with growing admiration. How widespread was hisknowledge, and how logical his deduction!
"I should have to see the pin," said Stone, "before drawing anyconclusion from it. You did not examine it closely, you say?"
I had not said so, but I suppose he deduced it from my slight knowledgeof its characteristics.
"I did not examine it through a microscope," I replied.
"You should have done so. If it were really a broken hat-pin, it wouldshow a clean, bright break at the end; whereas, were it a shorter pinwhich had lost its head, it would show at the end a fraction of an inchof duller steel, and perhaps an irregular surface where the head hadbeen attached."
"I can see that you are right, but I cannot see why it should make muchdifference which it was."
"My dear sir, according to your statement, the only clue we have to workupon is the weapon which was used. The weapon is always an importantitem, if not the most important, and it cannot be scrutinized tooclosely or examined too minutely, for, sooner or later, it is almostalways certain to expose the criminal."
"I had thought," I said humbly, "that I possessed a degree of detectiveinstinct, but I now see I was mistaken. I assumed the pin to be ahat-pin, and thought no more about it."
"It may be one," said Stone, "and the only way to find out is to see it.Of course I must also examine the apartment, and then, if necessary,question some of the parties concerned. But at this moment I have littledoubt in my mind as to who killed Robert Pembroke. I will take the case,because, though unusual, it promises to be a short one. I think I maysafely say that by to-morrow night at this hour we will not only havediscovered the criminal, but obtained a confession. But I will say thecriminal has been very, very clever. In fact, I think I should neverhave conceived of such various kinds of cleverness combined in onecrime. But, as is often the case, he has outwitted himself. His verycleverness is his undoing."
Surely the man was a wizard! I looked at him without a word after he hadmade his astounding announcement. I had no idea whom he suspected, but Iknew he would not tell me if I asked, so I thought best to express nocuriosity, but to leave the matter in his hands, and await his furtherpleasure.
"You can go at once to see the apartment," I said; "but to look at thepin we shall have to wait until morning, as I think it is in charge ofthe coroner."
"It must all wait till morning," said Fleming Stone, "as I have otherwork that I must attend to this evening."
I accepted my dismissal, and, making an appointment to call for him thenext day, I turned my steps homeward.
I had purposely said nothing to Fleming Stone of my suspicion of GeorgeLawrence. Indeed, it was scarcely strong enough to be called asuspicion, and, too, the mere idea of his going into the apartmentimplied the idea of his being let in by Janet. Therefore, I hadcontended myself with telling Stone the facts as I knew them, andsuppressing my own opinion. Also, it seemed a dreadful thing to castsuspicion on Lawrence, when I had no evidence of any sort.