Agatha Webb

  XVIII

  SOME LEADING QUESTIONS

  Frederick rose early. He had slept but little. The words he hadoverheard at the end of the lot the night before were still ringing inhis ears. Going down the back stairs, in his anxiety to avoid Amabel, hecame upon one of the stablemen.

  "Been to the village this morning?" he asked.

  "No, sir, but Lem has. There's great news there. I wonder if anyone hastold Mr. Sutherland."

  "What news, Jake? I don't think my father is up yet."

  "Why, sir, there were two more deaths in town last night--the brothersZabel; and folks do say (Lem heard it a dozen times between the groceryand the fish market) that it was one of these old men who killed Mrs.Webb. The dagger has been found in their house, and most of the money.Why, sir, what's the matter? Are you sick?"

  Frederick made an effort and stood upright. He had nearly fallen.

  "No; that is, I am not quite myself. So many horrors, Jake. What didthey die of? You say they are both dead--both?"

  "Yes, sir, and it's dreadful to think of, but it was hunger, sir. Breadcame too late. Both men are mere skeletons to look at. They have keptthemselves close for weeks now, and nobody knew how bad off they were. Idon't wonder it upset you, sir. We all feel it a bit, and I just dreadto tell Mr. Sutherland."

  Frederick staggered away. He had never in his life been so near mentaland physical collapse. At the threshold of the sitting-room door he methis father. Mr. Sutherland was looking both troubled and anxious; moreso, Frederick thought, than when he signed the check for him on theprevious night. As their eyes met, both showed embarrassment, butFrederick, whose nerves had been highly strung by what he had justheard, soon controlled himself, and surveying his father with forcedcalmness, began:

  "This is dreadful news, sir."

  But his father, intent on his own thought, hurriedly interrupted him.

  "You told me yesterday that everything was broken off between you andMiss Page. Yet I saw you reenter the house together last night a littlewhile after I gave you the money you asked for."

  "I know, and it must have had a bad appearance. I entreat you, however,to believe that this meeting between Miss Page and myself was against mywish, and that the relations between us have not been affected byanything that passed between us."

  "I am glad to hear it, my son. You could not do worse by yourself thanto return to your old devotion."

  "I agree with you, sir." And then, because he could not help it,Frederick inquired if he had heard the news.

  Mr. Sutherland, evidently startled, asked what news; to which Frederickreplied:

  "The news about the Zabels. They are both dead, sir,--dead from hunger.Can you imagine it!"

  This was something so different from what his father had expected tohear, that he did not take it in at first. When he did, his surprise andgrief were even greater than Frederick had anticipated. Seeing him soaffected, Frederick, who thought that the whole truth would be no harderto bear than the half, added the suspicion which had been attached tothe younger one's name, and then stood back, scarcely daring to be awitness to the outraged feelings which such a communication could notfail to awaken in one of his father's temperament.

  But though he thus escaped the shocked look which crossed his father'scountenance, he could not fail to hear the indignant exclamation whichburst from his lips, nor help perceiving that it would take more thanthe most complete circumstantial evidence to convince his father of theguilt of men he had known and respected for so many years.

  For some reason Frederick experienced great relief at this, and wasbracing himself to meet the fire of questions which his statement mustnecessarily call forth, when the sound of approaching steps drew theattention of both towards a party of men coming up the hillside.

  Among them was Mr. Courtney, Prosecuting Attorney for the district, andas Mr. Sutherland recognised him he sprang forward, saying, "There'sCourtney; he will explain this."

  Frederick followed, anxious and bewildered, and soon had the doubtfulpleasure of seeing his father enter his study in company with the fourmen considered to be most interested in the elucidation of the Webbmystery.

  As he was lingering in an undecided mood in the small passageway leadingup-stairs he felt the pressure of a finger on his shoulder. Looking up,he met the eyes of Amabel, who was leaning toward him over thebanisters. She was smiling, and, though her face was not withoutevidences of physical languor, there was a charm about her person whichwould have been sufficiently enthralling to him twenty-four hoursbefore, but which now caused him such a physical repulsion that hestarted back in the effort to rid his shoulder from her disturbingtouch.

  She frowned. It was an instantaneous expression of displeasure which wassoon lost in one of her gurgling laughs.

  "Is my touch so burdensome?" she demanded. "If the pressure of onefinger is so unbearable to your sensitive nerves, how will you relishthe weight of my whole hand?"

  There was a fierceness in her tone, a purpose in her look, that for thefirst time in his struggle with her revealed the full depth of her darknature. Shrinking from her appalled, he put up his hand in protest, atwhich she changed again in a twinkling, and with a cautious gesturetoward the room into which Mr. Sutherland and his friends haddisappeared, she whispered significantly:

  "We may not have another chance to confer together. Understand, then,that it will not be necessary for you to tell me, in so many words, thatyou are ready to link your fortunes to mine; the taking off of the ringyou wear and your slow putting of it on again, in my presence, will beunderstood by me as a token that you have reconsidered your presentattitude and desire my silence and--myself."

  Frederick could not repress a shudder.

  For an instant he was tempted to succumb on the spot and have the longagony over. Then his horror of the woman rose to such a pitch that heuttered an execration, and, turning away from her face, which wasrapidly growing loathsome to him, he ran out of the passageway into thegarden, seeing as he ran a persistent vision of himself pulling off thering and putting it back again, under the spell of a look he rebelledagainst even while he yielded to its influence.

  "I will not wear a ring, I will not subject myself to the possibility ofobeying her behest under a sudden stress of fear or fascination," heexclaimed, pausing by the well-curb and looking over it at hisreflection in the water beneath. "If I drop it here I at least lose thehorror of doing what she suggests, under some involuntary impulse." Butthe thought that the mere absence of the ring from his finger would notstand in the way of his going through the motions to which she had justgiven such significance, deterred him from the sacrifice of a valuablefamily jewel, and he left the spot with an air of frenzy such as a mandisplays when he feels himself on the verge of a doom he can neithermeet nor avert.

  As he re-entered the house, he felt himself enveloped in the atmosphereof a coming crisis. He could hear voices in the upper hall, and amongstthem he caught the accents of her he had learned so lately to fear.Impelled by something deeper than curiosity and more potent even thandread, he hastened toward the stairs. When half-way up, he caught sightof Amabel. She was leaning back against the balustrade that ran acrossthe upper hall, with her hands gripping the rail on either side of herand her face turned toward the five men who had evidently issued fromMr. Sutherland's study to interview her.

  As her back was to Frederick he could not judge of the expression ofthat face save by the effect it had upon the different men confrontingher. But to see them was enough. From their looks he could perceive thatthis young girl was in one of her baffling moods, and that from hisfather down, not one of the men present knew what to make of her.

  At the sound his feet made, a relaxation took place in her body and shelost something of the defiant attitude she had before maintained.Presently he heard her voice:

  "I am willing to answer any questions you may choose to put to me here;but I cannot consent to shut myself in with you in that small study; Ishould suffocate."

  Fre
derick could perceive the looks which passed between the five menassembled before her, and was astonished to note that the insignificantfellow they called Sweetwater was the first to answer.

  "Very well," said he; "if you enjoy the publicity of the open hall, noone here will object. Is not that so, gentlemen?"

  Her two little fingers, which were turned towards Frederick, ran up anddown the rail, making a peculiar rasping noise, which for a moment wasthe only sound to be heard. Then Mr. Courtney said:

  "How came you to have the handling of the money taken from Agatha Webb'sprivate drawer?"

  It was a startling question, but it seemed to affect Amabel less than itdid Frederick. It made him start, but she only turned her head a trifleaside, so that the peculiar smile with which she prepared to answercould be seen by anyone standing below.

  "Suppose you ask something less leading than that, to begin with," shesuggested, in her high, unmusical voice. "From the searching nature ofthis inquiry, you evidently believe I have information of an importantcharacter to give you concerning Mrs. Webb's unhappy death. Ask me aboutthat; the other question I will answer later."

  The aplomb with which this was said, mixed as it was with a feminineallurement of more than ordinary subtlety, made Mr. Sutherland frown andDr. Talbot look perplexed, but it did not embarrass Mr. Courtney, whomade haste to respond in his dryest accents:

  "Very well, I am not particular as to what you answer first. A flowerworn by you at the dance was found near Batsy's skirts, before she waslifted up that morning. Can you explain this, or, rather, will you?"

  "You are not obliged to, you know," put in Mr. Sutherland, with hisinexorable sense of justice. "Still, if you would, it might rob thesegentlemen of suspicions you certainly cannot wish them to entertain."

  "What I say," she remarked slowly, "will be as true to the facts as if Istood here on my oath. I can explain how a flower from my hair came tobe in Mrs. Webb's house, but not how it came to be found under Batsy'sfeet. That someone else must clear up." Her little finger, lifted fromthe rail, pointed toward Frederick, but no one saw this, unless it wasthat gentleman himself. "I wore a purple orchid in my hair that night,and there would be nothing strange in its being afterward picked up inMrs. Webb's house, because I was in that house at or near the time shewas murdered."

  "You in that house?"

  "Yes, as far as the ground floor; no farther." Here the little fingerstopped pointing. "I am ready to tell you about it, sirs, and onlyregret I have delayed doing so so long, but I wished to be sure it wasnecessary. Your presence here and your first question show that it is."

  There was suavity in her tone now, not unmixed with candour. Sweetwaterdid not seem to relish this, for he moved uneasily and lost a shade ofhis self-satisfied attitude. He had still to be made acquainted with allthe ins and outs of this woman's remarkable nature.

  "We are waiting," suggested Dr. Talbot.

  She turned to face this new speaker, and Frederick was relieved from thesight of her tantalising smile.

  "I will tell my story simply," said she, "with the simple suggestionthat you believe me; otherwise you will make a mistake. While I wasresting from a dance the other night, I heard two of the young peopletalking about the Zabels. One of them was laughing at the old men, andthe other was trying to relate some half-forgotten story of early lovewhich had been the cause, she thought, of their strange and melancholylives. I was listening to them, but I did not take in much of what theywere saying till I heard behind me an irascible voice exclaiming: 'Youlaugh, do you? I wonder if you would laugh so easily if you knew thatthese two poor old men haven't had a decent meal in a fortnight?' Ididn't know the speaker, but I was thrilled by his words. Not had a goodmeal, these men, for a fortnight! I felt as if personally guilty oftheir suffering, and, happening to raise my eyes at this minute andseeing through an open door the bountiful refreshments prepared for usin the supper room, I felt guiltier than ever. Suddenly I took aresolution. It was a queer one, and may serve to show you some of theoddities of my nature. Though I was engaged for the next dance, andthough I was dressed in the flimsy garments suitable to the occasion, Idecided to leave the ball and carry some sandwiches down to these oldmen. Procuring a bit of paper, I made up a bundle and stole out of thehouse without having said a word to anybody of my intention. Not wishingto be seen, I went out by the garden door, which is at the end of thedark hall--"

  "Just as the band was playing the Harebell mazurka," interpolatedSweetwater.

  Startled for the first time from her careless composure by aninterruption of which it was impossible for her at that time to measureeither the motive or the meaning, she ceased to play with her fingers onthe baluster rail and let her eyes rest for a moment on the man who hadthus spoken, as if she hesitated between her desire to annihilate himfor his impertinence and a fear of the cold hate she saw actuating hisevery word and look. Then she went on, as if no one had spoken:

  "I ran down the hill recklessly. I was bent on my errand and not at allafraid of the dark. When I reached that part of the road where thestreets branch off, I heard footsteps in front of me. I had overtakensomeone. Slackening my pace, so that I should not pass this person, whomI instinctively knew to be a man, I followed him till I came to a highboard fence. It was that surrounding Agatha Webb's house, and when I sawit I could not help connecting the rather stealthy gait of the man infront of me with a story I had lately heard of the large sum of moneyshe was known to keep in her house. Whether this was before or afterthis person disappeared round the corner I cannot say, but no sooner hadI become certain that he was bent upon entering this house than myimpulse to follow him became greater than my precaution, and turningaside from the direct path to the Zabels', I hurried down High Streetjust in time to see the man enter Mrs. Webb's front gateway.

  "It was a late hour for visiting, but as the house had lights in bothits lower and upper stories, I should by good rights have taken it forgranted that he was an expected guest and gone on my way to the Zabels'.But I did not. The softness with which this person stepped and theskulking way in which he hesitated at the front gate aroused my worstfears, and after he had opened that gate and slid in, I was so pursuedby the idea that he was there for no good that I stepped inside the gatemyself and took my stand in the deep shadow cast by the old pear tree onthe right-hand side of the walk. Did anyone speak?"

  There was a unanimous denial from the five gentlemen before her, yet shedid not look satisfied.

  "I thought I heard someone make a remark," she repeated, and pausedagain for a half-minute, during which her smile was a study, it was socold and in such startling contrast to the vivid glances she threweverywhere except behind her on the landing where Frederick stoodlistening to her every word.

  "We are very much interested," remarked Mr. Courtney. "Pray, go on."

  Drawing her left hand from the balustrade where it had rested, shelooked at one of her fingers with an odd backward gesture.

  "I will," she said, and her tone was hard and threatening. "Fiveminutes, no longer, passed, when I was startled by a loud and terriblecry from the house, and looking up at the second-story window from whichthe sound proceeded, I saw a woman's figure hanging out in a seeminglypulseless condition. Too terrified to move, I clung trembling to thetree, hearing and not hearing the shouts and laughter of a dozen or moremen, who at that minute passed by the corner on their way to thewharves. I was dazed, I was choking, and only came to myself when,sooner or later, I do not know how soon or how late, a fresh horrorhappened. The woman whom I had just seen fall almost from the window wasa serving woman, but when I heard another scream I knew that themistress of the house was being attacked, and rivetting my eyes on thosewindows, I beheld the shade of one of them thrown back and a handappear, flinging out something which fell in the grass on the oppositeside of the lawn. Then the shade fell again, and hearing nothingfurther, I ran to where the object flung out had fallen, and feeling forit, found and picked up an old-fashioned dagger, dripping with blood.Horrified be
yond all expression, I dropped the weapon and retreated intomy former place of concealment.

  "But I was not satisfied to remain there. A curiosity, a determinationeven, to see the man who had committed this dastardly deed, attacked mewith such force that I was induced to leave my hiding-place and even toenter the house where in all probability he was counting the gains hehad just obtained at the price of so much precious blood. The door,which he had not perfectly closed behind him, seemed to invite me in,and before I had realised my own temerity, I was standing in the hall ofthis ill-fated house."

  The interest, which up to this moment had been breathless, now expresseditself in hurried ejaculations and broken words; and Mr. Sutherland, whohad listened like one in a dream, exclaimed eagerly, and in a tone whichproved that he, for the moment at least, believed this more thanimprobable tale:

  "Then you can tell us if Philemon was in the little room at the momentwhen you entered the house?"

  As everyone there present realised the importance of this question, ageneral movement took place and each and all drew nearer as she mettheir eyes and answered placidly:

  "Yes; Mr. Webb was sitting in a chair asleep. He was the only person Isaw."

  "Oh, I know he never committed this crime," gasped his old friend, in arelief so great that one and all seemed to share it.

  "Now I have courage for the rest. Go on, Miss Page."

  But Miss Page paused again to look at her finger, and give that sidewaystoss to her head that seemed so uncalled for by the situation to any whodid not know of the compact between herself and the listening man below.

  "I hate to go back to that moment," said she; "for when I saw thecandles burning on the table, and the husband of the woman who at thatvery instant was possibly breathing her last breath in the roomoverhead, sitting there in unconscious apathy, I felt something rise inmy throat that made me deathly sick for a moment. Then I went right inwhere he was, and was about to shake his arm and wake him, when Idetected a spot of blood on my finger from the dagger I had handled.That gave me another turn, and led me to wipe off my finger on hissleeve."

  "It's a pity you did not wipe off your slippers too," murmuredSweetwater.

  Again she looked at him, again her eyes opened in terror upon the faceof this man, once so plain and insignificant in her eyes, but now sofilled with menace she inwardly quaked before it, for all her apparentscorn.

  "Slippers," she murmured.

  "Did not your feet as well as your hands pass through the blood on thegrass?"

  She disdained to answer him.

  "I have accounted for the blood on my hand," she said, not looking athim, but at Mr. Courtney. "If there is any on my slippers it can beaccounted for in the same way." And she rapidly resumed her narrative."I had no sooner made my little finger clean I never thought of anyonesuspecting the old gentleman when I heard steps on the stairs and knewthat the murderer was coming down, and in another instant would pass theopen door before which I stood.

  "Though I had been courageous enough up to that minute, I was seized bya sudden panic at the prospect of meeting face to face one whose handswere perhaps dripping with the blood of his victim. To confront himthere and then might mean death to me, and I did not want to die, but tolive, for I am young, sirs, and not without a prospect of happinessbefore me. So I sprang back, and seeing no other place of concealment inthe whole bare room, crouched down in the shadow of the man you callPhilemon. For one, two minutes, I knelt there in a state of mortalterror, while the feet descended, paused, started to enter the roomwhere I was, hesitated, turned, and finally left the house."

  "Miss Page, wait, wait," put in the coroner. "You saw him; you can tellwho this man was?"

  The eagerness of this appeal seemed to excite her. A slight colourappeared in her cheeks and she took a step forward, but before the wordsfor which they so anxiously waited could leave her lips, she gave astart and drew back with, an ejaculation which left a more or lesssinister echo in the ears of all who heard it.

  Frederick had just shown himself at the top of the staircase.

  "Good-morning, gentlemen," said he, advancing into their midst with anair whose unexpected manliness disguised his inward agitation. "The fewwords I have just heard Miss Page say interest me so much, I find itimpossible not to join you."

  Amabel, upon whose lips a faint complacent smile had appeared as hestepped by her, glanced up at these words in secret astonishment at theindifference they showed, and then dropped her eyes to his hands with anintent gaze which seemed to affect him unpleasantly, for he thrust themimmediately behind him, though he did not lower his head or lose his airof determination.

  "Is my presence here undesirable?" he inquired, with a glance towardshis father.

  Sweetwater looked as if he thought it was, but he did not presume to sayanything, and the others being too interested in the developments ofMiss Page's story to waste any time on lesser matters, Frederickremained, greatly to Miss Page's evident satisfaction.

  "Did you see this man's face?" Mr. Courtney now broke in, in urgentinquiry.

  Her answer came slowly, after another long look in Frederick'sdirection.

  "No, I did not dare to make the effort. I was obliged to crouch tooclose to the floor. I simply heard his footsteps."

  "See, now!" muttered Sweetwater, but in so low a tone she did not hearhim. "She condemns herself. There isn't a woman living who would fail tolook up under such circumstances, even at the risk of her life."

  Knapp seemed to agree with him, but Mr. Courtney, following his oneidea, pressed his former question, saying:

  "Was it an old man's step?"

  "It was not an agile one."

  "And you did not catch the least glimpse of the man's face or figure?"

  "Not a glimpse."

  "So you are in no position to identify him?"

  "If by any chance I should hear those same footsteps coming down aflight of stairs, I think I should be able to recognise them," sheallowed, in the sweetest tones at her command.

  "She knows it is too late for her to hear those of the two dead Zabels,"growled the man from Boston.

  "We are no nearer the solution of this mystery than we were in thebeginning," remarked the coroner.

  "Gentlemen, I have not yet finished my story," intimated Amabel,sweetly. "Perhaps what I have yet to tell may give you some clew to theidentity of this man."

  "Ah, yes; go on, go on. You have not yet explained how you came to be inpossession of Agatha's money."

  "Just so," she answered, with another quick look at Frederick, the lastshe gave him for some time. "As soon, then, as I dared, I ran out of thehouse into the yard. The moon, which had been under a cloud, was nowshining brightly, and by its light I saw that the space before me wasempty and that I might venture to enter the street. But before doing soI looked about for the dagger I had thrown from me before going in, butI could not find it. It had been picked up by the fugitive and carriedaway. Annoyed at the cowardice which had led me to lose such a valuablepiece of evidence through a purely womanish emotion, I was about toleave the yard, when my eyes fell on the little bundle of sandwicheswhich I had brought down from the hill and which I had let fall underthe pear tree, at the first scream I had heard from the house. It hadburst open and two or three of the sandwiches lay broken on the ground.But those that were intact I picked up, and being more than ever anxiousto cover up by some ostensible errand my absence from the party, Irushed away toward the lonely road where these brothers lived, meaningto leave such fragments as remained on the old doorstep, beyond which Ihad been told such suffering existed.

  "It was now late, very late, for a girl like myself to be out, but,under the excitement of what I had just seen and heard, I becameoblivious to fear, and rushed into those dismal shadows as intotransparent daylight. Perhaps the shouts and stray sounds of laughterthat came up from the wharves where a ship was getting under way gave mea certain sense of companionship. Perhaps--but it is folly for me todilate upon my feelings; it is my errand
you are interested in, and whathappened when I approached the Zabels' dreary dwelling."

  The look with which she paused, ostensibly to take breath, but inreality to weigh and criticise the looks of those about her, was one ofthose wholly indescribable ones with which she was accustomed to controlthe judgment of men who allowed themselves to watch too closely theever-changing expression of her weird yet charming face. But it fellupon men steeled against her fascinations, and realising her inabilityto move them, she proceeded with her story before even the most anxiousof her hearers could request her to do so.

  "I had come along the road very quietly," said she, "for my feet werelightly shod, and the moonlight was too bright for me to make a misstep.But as I cleared the trees and came into the open place where the housestands I stumbled with surprise at seeing a figure crouching on thedoorstep I had anticipated finding as empty as the road. It was an oldman's figure, and as I paused in my embarrassment he slowly and withgreat feebleness rose to his feet and began to grope about for the door.As he did so, I heard a sharp tinkling sound, as of something metallicfalling on the doorstone, and, taking a quick step forward, I lookedover his shoulder and espied in the moonlight at his feet a dagger solike the one I had lately handled in Mrs. Webb's yard that I wasoverwhelmed with astonishment, and surveyed the aged and feeble form ofthe man who had dropped it with a sensation difficult to describe. Thenext moment he was stooping for the weapon, with a startled air that hasimpressed itself distinctly upon my memory, and when, after many feebleattempts, he succeeded in grasping it, he vanished into the house sosuddenly that I could not be sure whether or not he had seen me standingthere.

  "All this was more than surprising to me, for I had never thought ofassociating an old man with this crime. Indeed, I was so astonished tofind him in possession of this weapon that I forgot all about my errandand only wondered how I could see and know more. Fearing detection, Islid in amongst the bushes and soon found myself under one of thewindows. The shade was down and I was about to push it aside when Iheard someone moving about inside and stopped. But I could not restrainmy curiosity, so pulling a hairpin from my hair, I worked a little holein the shade and through this I looked into a room brightly illumined bythe moon which shone in through an adjoining window. And what did I seethere?" Her eye turned on Frederick. His right hand had stolen towardhis left, but it paused under her look and remained motionless. "Only anold man sitting at a table and--" Why did she pause, and why did shecover up that pause with a wholly inconsequential sentence? PerhapsFrederick could have told, Frederick, whose hand had now fallen at hisside. But Frederick volunteered nothing, and no one, not evenSweetwater, guessed all that lay beyond that AND which was left hoveringin the air to be finished--- when? Alas! had she not set the day and thehour?

  What she did say was in seeming explanation of her previous sentence."It was not the same old man I had seen on the doorstep, and while I waslooking at him I became aware of someone leaving the house and passingme on the road up-hill. Of course this ended my interest in what went onwithin, and turning as quickly as I could I hurried into the road andfollowed the shadow I could just perceive disappearing in the woodsabove me. I was bound, gentlemen, as you see, to follow out my adventureto the end. But my task now became very difficult, for the moon was highand shone down upon the road so distinctly that I could not follow theperson before me as closely as I wished without running the risk ofbeing discovered by him. I therefore trusted more to my ear than to myeye, and as long as I could hear his steps in front of me I wassatisfied. But presently, as we turned up this very hill, I ceased tohear these steps and so became confident that he had taken to the woods.I was so sure of this that I did not hesitate to enter them myself, and,knowing the paths well, as I have every opportunity of doing, living, aswe do, directly opposite this forest, I easily found my way to thelittle clearing that I have reason to think you gentlemen have sincebecome acquainted with. But though from the sounds I heard I was assuredthat the person I was following was not far in advance of me, I did notdare to enter this brilliantly illumined space, especially as there wasevery indication of this person having completed whatever task he hadset for himself. Indeed, I was sure that I heard his steps coming back.So, for the second time, I crouched down in the darkest place I couldfind and let this mysterious person pass me. When he had quitedisappeared, I made my own retreat, for it was late, and I was afraid ofbeing missed at the ball. But later, or rather the next day, I recrossedthe road and began a search for the money which I was confident had beenleft in the woods opposite, by the person I had been following. I foundit, and when the man here present who, though a mere fiddler, haspresumed to take a leading part in this interview, came upon me with thebills in my hand, I was but burying deeper the ill-gotten gains I hadcome upon."

  "Ah, and so making them your own," quoth Sweetwater, stung by thesarcasm in that word fiddler.

  But with a suavity against which every attack fell powerless, she methis significant look with one fully as significant, and quietly said:

  "If I had wanted the money for myself I would not have risked leaving itwhere the murderer could find it by digging up a few handfuls of mouldand a bunch of sodden leaves. No, I had another motive for my action, amotive with which few, if any, of you will be willing to credit me. Iwished to save the murderer, whom I had some reason, as you see, forthinking I knew, from the consequences of his own action."

  Mr. Courtney, Dr. Talbot, and even Mr. Sutherland, who naturallybelieved she referred to Zabel, and who, one and all, had a lingeringtenderness for this unfortunate old man, which not even this seeming actof madness on his part could quite destroy, felt a species of reactionat this, and surveyed the singular being before them with, perhaps, theslightest shade of relenting in their severity. Sweetwater alonebetrayed restlessness, Knapp showed no feeling at all, while Frederickstood like one petrified, and moved neither hand nor foot.

  "Crime is despicable when it results from cupidity only," she went on,with a deliberateness so hard that the more susceptible of her auditorsshuddered. "But crime that springs from some imperative and overpoweringnecessity of the mind or body might well awaken sympathy, and I am notashamed of having been sorry for this frenzied and suffering man. Weakand impulsive as you may consider me, I did not want him to suffer onaccount of a moment's madness, as he undoubtedly would if he were everfound with Agatha Webb's money in his possession, so I plunged it deeperinto the soil and trusted to the confusion which crime always awakenseven in the strongest mind, for him not to discover its hiding-placetill the danger connected with it was over."

  "Ha! wonderful! Devilish subtle, eh? Clever, too clever!" were some ofthe whispered exclamations which this curious explanation on her partbrought out. Yet only Sweetwater showed his open and entire disbelief ofthe story, the others possibly remembering that for such natures as hersthere is no governing law and no commonplace interpretation.

  To Sweetwater, however, this was but so much display of feminineresource and subtlety. Though he felt he should keep still in thepresence of men so greatly his superiors, he could not resist saying:

  "Truth is sometimes stranger than fiction. I should never haveattributed any such motive as you mention to the young girl I sawleaving this spot with many a backward glance at the hole from which weafterwards extracted the large sum of money in question. But say thatthis reburying of stolen funds was out of consideration for the feebleold man you describe as having carried them there, do you not see thatby this act you can be held as an accessory after the fact?"

  Her eyebrows went up and the delicate curve of her lips was not withoutmenace as she said:

  "You hate me, Mr. Sweetwater. Do you wish me to tell these gentlemenwhy?"

  The flush which, notwithstanding this peculiar young man's nerve,instantly crimsoned his features, was a surprise to Frederick. So was itto the others, who saw in it a possible hint as to the real cause of hispersistent pursuit of this young girl, which they had hitherto ascribedentirely to his love of justice
. Slighted love makes some heartsvenomous. Could this ungainly fellow have once loved and been disdainedby this bewitching piece of unreliability?

  It was a very possible assumption, though Sweetwater's blush was theonly answer he gave to her question, which nevertheless had amply servedits turn.

  To fill the gap caused by his silence, Mr. Sutherland made an effort andaddressed her himself.

  "Your conduct," said he, "has not been that of a strictly honourableperson. Why did you fail to give the alarm when you re-entered my houseafter being witness to this double tragedy?"

  Her serenity was not to be disturbed.

  "I have just explained," she reminded him, "that I had sympathy for thecriminal."

  "We all have sympathy for James Zabel, but--"

  "I do not believe one word of this story," interposed Sweetwater, inreckless disregard of proprieties. "A hungry, feeble old man, likeZabel, on the verge of death, could not have found his way into thesewoods. You carried the money there yourself, miss; you are the--"

  "Hush!" interposed the coroner, authoritatively; "do not let us go toofast--yet. Miss Page has an air of speaking the truth, strange andunaccountable as it may seem. Zabel was an admirable man once, and if hewas led into theft and murder, it was not until his faculties had beenweakened by his own suffering and that of his much-loved brother."

  "Thank you," was her simple reply; and for the first time every manthere thrilled at her tone. Seeing it, all the dangerous fascination ofher look and manner returned upon her with double force. "I have beenunwise," said she, "and let my sympathy run away with my judgment. Womenhave impulses of this kind sometimes, and men blame them for it, tillthey themselves come to the point of feeling the need of just such blinddevotion. I am sure I regret my short-sightedness now, for I have lostesteem by it, while he--" With a wave of the hand she dismissed thesubject, and Dr. Talbot, watching her, felt a shade of his distrustleave him, and in its place a species of admiration for the lithe,graceful, bewitching personality before them, with her childish impulsesand womanly wit which half mystified and half imposed upon them.

  Mr. Sutherland, on the contrary, was neither charmed from his antagonismnor convinced of her honesty. There was something in this matter thatcould not be explained away by her argument, and his suspicion of thatsomething he felt perfectly sure was shared by his son, toward whosecold, set face he had frequently cast the most uneasy glances. He wasnot ready, however, to probe into the subject more deeply, nor could he,for the sake of Frederick, urge on to any further confession a youngwoman whom his unhappy son professed to love, and in whose discretion hehad so little confidence. As for Sweetwater, he had now fully recoveredhis self-possession, and bore himself with great discretion when Dr.Talbot finally said:

  "Well, gentlemen, we have got more than we expected when we came herethis morning. There remains, however, a point regarding which we havereceived no explanation. Miss Page, how came that orchid, which I amtold you wore in your hair at the dance, to be found lying near the hemof Batsy's skirts? You distinctly told us that you did not go up-stairswhen you were in Mrs. Webb's house."

  "Ah, that's so!" acquiesced the Boston detective dryly. "How came thatflower on the scene of the murder?"

  She smiled and seemed equal to the emergency.

  "That is a mystery for us all to solve," she said quietly, franklymeeting the eyes of her questioner.

  "A mystery it is your business to solve," corrected the districtattorney. "Nothing that you have told us in support of your innocencewould, in the eyes of the law, weigh for one instant against thecomplicity shown by that one piece of circumstantial evidence againstyou."

  Her smile carried a certain high-handed denial of this to one heartthere, at least. But her words were humble enough.

  "I am aware of that," said she. Then, turning to where Sweetwater stoodlowering upon her from out his half-closed eyes, she impetuouslyexclaimed: "You, sir, who, with no excuse an honourable person canrecognise, have seen fit to arrogate to yourself duties wholly out ofyour province, prove yourself equal to your presumption by ferretingout, alone and unassisted, the secret of this mystery. It can be done,for, mark, _I_ did not carry that flower into the room where it wasfound. This I am ready to assert before God and before man!"

  Her hand was raised, her whole attitude spoke defiance and--hard as itwas for Sweetwater to acknowledge it--truth. He felt that he hadreceived a challenge, and with a quick glance at Knapp, who barelyresponded by a shrug, he shifted over to the side of Dr. Talbot.

  Amabel at once dropped her hand.

  "May I go?" she now cried appealingly to Mr. Courtney. "I really have nomore to say, and I am tired."

  "Did you see the figure of the man who brushed by you in the wood? Wasit that of the old man you saw on the doorstep?"

  At this direct question Frederick quivered in spite of his doggedself-control. But she, with her face upturned to meet the scrutiny ofthe speaker, showed only a childish kind of wonder. "Why do you askthat? Is there any doubt about its being the same?"

  What an actress she was! Frederick stood appalled. He had been amazed atthe skill with which she had manipulated her story so as to keep herpromise to him, and yet leave the way open for that further confessionwhich would alter the whole into a denunciation of himself which hewould find it difficult, if not impossible, to meet. But this extremedissimulation made him lose heart. It showed her to be an antagonist ofalmost illimitable resource and secret determination.

  "I did not suppose there could be any doubt," she added, in such anatural tone of surprise that Mr. Courtney dropped the subject, and Dr.Talbot turned to Sweetwater, who for the moment seemed to have robbedKnapp of his rightful place as the coroner's confidant.

  "Shall we let her go for the present?" he whispered. "She does looktired, poor girl."

  The public challenge which Sweetwater had received made him wary, andhis reply was a guarded one:

  "I do not trust her, yet there is much to confirm her story. Thosesandwiches, now. She says she dropped them in Mrs. Webb's yard under thepear tree, and that the bag that held them burst open. Gentlemen, thebirds were so busy there on the morning after the murder that I couldnot but notice them, notwithstanding my absorption in greater matters. Iremember wondering what they were all pecking at so eagerly. But howabout the flower whose presence on the scene of guilt she challenges meto explain? And the money so deftly reburied by her? Can any explanationmake her other than accessory to a crime on whose fruits she lays herhand in a way tending solely to concealment? No, sirs; and so I shallnot relax my vigilance over her, even if, in order to be faithful to it,I have to suggest that a warrant be made out for her imprisonment."

  "You are right," acquiesced the coroner, and turning to Miss Page, hetold her she was too valuable a witness to be lost sight of, andrequested her to prepare to accompany him into town.

  She made no objection. On the contrary her cheeks dimpled, and sheturned away with alacrity towards her room. But before the door closedon her she looked back, and, with a persuasive smile, remarked that shehad told all she knew, or thought she knew at the time. But thatperhaps, after thinking the matter carefully over, she might remembersome detail that would throw some extra light on the subject.

  "Call her back!" cried Mr. Courtney. "She is withholding something. Letus hear it all."

  But Mr. Sutherland, with a side look at Frederick, persuaded thedistrict attorney to postpone all further examination of this artfulgirl until they were alone. The anxious father had noted, what the restwere too preoccupied to observe, that Frederick had reached the limit ofhis strength and could not be trusted to preserve his composure anylonger in face of this searching examination into the conduct of a womanfrom whom he had so lately detached himself.