XVII
AN APPEAL
We strolled up Broadway, resisting the attraction of a garish newmotion-picture palace at which Manton's previous release with StellaLamar was now showing to capacity--much to the delight of the exhibitorwho greatly complimented himself on his good fortune in being able totake advantage of the newspaper sensation over the affair.
On we walked, Kennedy mostly in silent deduction, I knew, until we cameto the upper regions of the great thoroughfare, turned off, and headedtoward our apartment on the Heights, not far from the university.
We had scarcely settled ourselves for a quiet hour in our quarters whenthe telephone rang. I answered. To my amazement I found that it wasMarilyn Loring.
"Is Professor Kennedy in?" she asked.
"Yes, Miss Loring. Just a--"
"Never mind calling him to the phone, Mr. Jameson. I've been trying tofind him all evening. He was not at the laboratory, although I waitedover an hour. Just tell him that there's something I am very anxious toconsult him about. Ask him if it will be all right for me to run up tosee him just a few minutes."
I explained to Kennedy.
"Let her come along," he said, as surprised as I was. Then he added,humorously, "I seem to be father confessor to-night."
After sinking back in my seat in comfort once more I observed a quietelation in Kennedy's manner. All at once it struck me what he wasdoing. The multitude of considerations in this case, the many crossleads to be followed, had confused me. But now I realized that, afterall, this was only the approved Kennedy method, the mode of procedurewhich had never failed to produce results for him. Without allowinghimself to be disturbed by the great number of people concerned, he hadcalmly started to pit them one against the other, encouraging each totalk about the rest, making a show of his apparent inaction and lack ofhaste so that they, in turn, would shake off the excitement immediatelyfollowing the death of the girl and thereby reveal their normal selvesto his keen observation.
Not five minutes passed before Marilyn was announced. Evidently she hadbeen seeking us eagerly, for she had probably telephoned from a near-bypay station.
"Mr. Kennedy," she began, "I am going to find this very hard to say."
"Really," he assured her, "there is no reason why you should not reposeyour confidence in me. My only interest is to solve the mystery and tosee that justice is satisfied. Beyond that nothing would give megreater happiness than to be of service to you."
"It's--it's about Merle Shirley--" she started, bravely. Then all atonce she broke down. The strain of two days had been too much for her.
Kennedy lighted a fresh cigar, realizing that he could best aid her torecover her composure by making no effort to do so. For several momentsshe sobbed silently, a handkerchief at her eyes. Then she straightened,with a half smile, dabbing at the drops of moisture remaining. With herwet eyes and flushed cheeks she was revealed to me again as a verygenuine girl, wholly unspoiled by her outward mask of sophistication.Furthermore, at this instant she was gloriously pretty.
"Again--why do you play vampire roles, Miss Loring?" I asked, asquickly as the thought flashed to me. "I think you'd be an idealingenue!"
"About a thousand people have told me that," she rejoined. As shereplied her smile took full possession of her features. My idioticrepetition, entirely out of place, had served to restore herself-control to her. "No, the public won't stand for it. They've beentrained to know me as a vamp, and a vamp I remain."
Facing Kennedy, she sobered. "Merle Shirley and I were engaged," shewent on. "That you know. Then poor Stella made a fool of him. Shedidn't mean any harm, any real harm, but I don't think she knew howdeep he feels or just what a fiery temper he has. Finally he found outthat she was only playing with him. He was perfectly terrible. At firstI thought he had killed her in a burst of passion. I really thoughtthat."
"Yes?" Kennedy was interested. He needed no pretense.
"When I asked him point blank he said he didn't." A very wonderfullight came into Marilyn Loring's eyes at this instant. "Whatever elsehe would do, Professor Kennedy, he wouldn't lie to me; that I know. Hewould tell me the truth because he knows I would shield him, no matterwhat the cost."
"You simply want to assure me of his innocence?" suggested Kennedy.
"No!" There was a touch of scorn to the little negative. "You don'tbelieve him guilty; you didn't even when I did."
"Then--"
"But he knows something--something about the murder of Stella--and hewon't tell me what it is. I--I'm afraid for him. He isn't sleeping atnight, and I believe he's watching somebody at the studio, and Iknow--it's the WOMAN'S intuition, Professor"--she emphasized the word,and paused--"he's in danger. He's in some great threatening danger!"
"What do you wish me to do, Miss Loring?"
"I want you to protect him and"--slowly she colored, up and around andabout her eyes as she always did, until she wasn't unlike an Indianmaid--"and no one must know I've been up to see you."
Gravely Kennedy bowed her to the door, assuring her he would do allthat lay in his power. When he returned I was ready for him.
"Now!" I exclaimed. "Now say it isn't Werner! Here is Merle Shirleywatching some one at the studio. Isn't that likely to be the director?And if Shirley is watching Werner you have the explanation for thesecond intruder at Tarrytown last night. Shirley is big enough andstrong enough to have given the deputy a nice swift tussle."
"A little tall, I'm afraid," Kennedy remarked.
"You can't go by the deputy's impressions. He didn't really remembermuch of anything. Certainly he was unobserving."
"Perhaps you're right, Walter." Kennedy smiled. "But how about Gordon?"he added. "There's genuine motive--money!"
"Or Shirley himself!" I attempted to be sarcastic. "There's genuinemotive. Stella made a fool out of him."
"It wasn't a murder of passion," Kennedy reminded me. "No one in awhite heat of rage would study up on snake venoms."
"If it were a slow-smoldering--"
"Shirley's anger wasn't that kind."
"But good heavens!" As usual I arrived nowhere in an argument withKennedy. "Circumstantial evidence points to Werner almost altogether--"
"You've forgotten one point in your chain, Walter."
"What's that?"
"Whoever took the needle from the curtain last night scratched himselfon it and left blood spots on the portieres, tiny ones, but real bloodspots, nevertheless. That means the intruder inoculated himself withvenom. I doubt that the poison was so dry as to be ineffectual. If itwas Werner, how do you account for the fact that he is still alive?"
"Do you"--I guess my eyes went wide--"do you expect to dig up a deadman somewhere? Is there some one we suspect and haven't seen sinceyesterday?"
He didn't answer, preferring to tantalize me.
"How do you account for it yourself?" I demanded, somewhat hotly.
"Let's call it a day, Walter," he rejoined. "Let's go to bed!"