Page 12 of From Whose Bourne


  CHAPTER XII.

  After receiving this information Stratton sat alone in his room andthought deeply over his plans. He did not wish to make a false step, yetthere was hardly enough in the evidence he had secured to warrant hisgiving Stephen Roland up to the police. Besides this, it would put thesuspected man at once on his guard, and there was no question butthat gentleman had taken every precaution to prevent discovery. Afterdeliberating for a long while, he thought that perhaps the best thing hecould do was to endeavour to take Roland by surprise. Meanwhile, beforethe meditating man stood Brenton and Speed, and between them there was aserious disagreement of opinion.

  * * * * *

  "I tell you what it is," said Speed, "there is no use in our interferingwith Stratton. He is on the wrong track, but, nevertheless, all theinfluence we can use on him in his present frame of mind will merely dowhat it did before--it will muddle the man up. Now, I propose that weleave him severely alone. Let him find out his mistake. He will find itout in some way or other, and then he will be in a condition of mind toturn to the case of Jane Morton."

  "But don't you see," argued Brenton, "that all the time spent on hispresent investigation is so much time lost? I will agree to leave himalone, as you say, but let us get somebody else on the Morton case."

  "I don't want to do that," said Speed; "because George Stratton hastaken a great deal of interest in this search. He has done a great dealnow, and I think we should he grateful to him for it."

  "Grateful!" growled Brenton; "he has done it from the most purelyselfish motives that a man can act upon. He has done it entirely for hispaper--for newspaper fame. He has done it for money."

  "Now," said Speed, hotly, "you must not talk like that of Stratton tome. I won't say what I think of that kind of language coming from you,but you can see how seriously we interfered with his work before, andhow it nearly resulted in his departure for Chicago. I propose now thatwe leave him alone."

  "Leave him alone, then, for any sake," replied Brenton; "I am sure Ibuild nothing on what he can do anyway."

  "All right, then," returned Speed, recovering his good nature. "Now,although I am not willing to put any one else on the track of Miss JaneMorton, yet I will tell you what I am willing to do. If you like, wewill go to her residence, and influence her to confess her crime. Ibelieve that can be done."

  "Very well; I want you to understand that I am perfectly reasonableabout the matter. All I want is not to lose any more time."

  "Time?" cried Speed; "why, we have got all the time there is. Mrs.Brenton is acquitted. There is no more danger."

  "That is perfectly true, I admit; but still you can see the grief underwhich she labours, because her name is not yet cleared from the odiumof the crime. You will excuse me, Speed, if I say that you seem to beworking more in the interests of Stratton's journalistic success than inthe interests of Mrs. Brenton's good name."

  "Well, we won't talk about that," said Speed; "Stratton is amply able totake care of himself, as you will doubtless see. Now, what do you sayto our trying whether or not we can influence Jane Morton to do what sheought to do, and confess her crime?"

  "It is not a very promising task," replied Brenton; "it is hard to get aperson to say words that may lead to the gallows."

  "I'm not so sure about that," said Speed; "you know the trouble of mindshe is in. I think it more than probable that, after the terror of thelast few weeks, it will be a relief for her to give herself up."

  "Very well; let us go."

  The two men shortly afterwards found themselves in the scantilyfurnished room occupied by Jane Morton. That poor woman was rockingherself to and fro and moaning over her trouble. Then she suddenlystopped rocking, and looked around the room with vague apprehensionin her eyes. She rose and examined the bolts of the door, and, seeingeverything was secure, sat down again.

  "I shall never have any peace in this world again," she cried toherself.

  She rocked back and forth silently for a few moments.

  "I wish," she said, "the police would find out all about it, and thenthis agony of mind would end."

  Again she rocked back and forth, with her hands helplessly in her lap.

  "Oh, I cannot do it, _I cannot do it_!" she sobbed, still rocking to andfro. Finally she started to her feet.

  "I _will_ do it," she cried; "I will confess to Mrs. Brenton herself. Iwill tell her everything. She has gone through trouble herself, and mayhave mercy on me."

  "There, you see," said Speed to Brenton, "we have overcome thedifficulty, after all."

  "It certainly looks like it," replied Brenton. "Don't you think,however, that we had better stay with her until she _does_ confess? Mayshe not change her mind?"

  "Don't let us overdo the thing," suggested Speed; "if she doesn't, cometo time, we can easily have another interview with her. The woman'smind is made up. She is in torment, and will be until she confesses hercrime. Let us go and leave her alone."

  * * * * *

  George Stratton was not slow to act when he had once made up his mind.He pinned to the breast of his vest a little shield, on which was theword "detective." This he had often found useful, in a way that is notat all sanctioned by the law, in ferreting out crime in Chicago. As soonas it was evening he paced up and down in front of Roland's house, andon the opposite side of the road. There was a light in the doctor'sstudy, and he thought that perhaps the best way to proceed was to goboldly into the house and put his scheme into operation. However, as hemeditated on this, the light was turned low, and in a few moments thedoor opened. The doctor came down the steps, and out on the pavement,walking briskly along the street. The reporter followed him on the otherside of the thoroughfare. Whether to do it in the dark or in the light,was the question that troubled Stratton. If he did it in the dark, hewould miss the expression on the face of the surprised man. If he did itin the light, the doctor might recognize him as the Chicago reporter,and would know at once that he was no detective. Still, he felt thatif there was anything in his scheme at all, it was surprise; and heremembered the quick gasp of the lawyer Brown when he told him he knewwhat his defence was. He must be able to note the expression of the manwho was guilty of the terrible crime.

  Having made up his mind to this, he stepped smartly after the doctor,and, when the latter came under a lamp-post, placed his hand suddenly onhis shoulder, and exclaimed--

  "Doctor Stephen Roland, I arrest you for the murder of William Brenton!"