XLIII
Bassett was having a visitor. He sat in his chair while that visitorranged excitedly up and down the room, a short stout man, well dressedand with a mixture of servility and importance. The valet's first words,as he stood inside the door, had been significant.
"I should like to know, first, if I am talking to the police."
"No--and yes," Bassett said genially. "Come and sit down, man. What Imean is this. I am a friend of Judson Clark's, and this may or may notbe a police matter. I don't know yet."
"You are a friend of Mr. Clark's? Then the report was correct. He isstill alive, sir?"
"Yes."
The valet got out a handkerchief and wiped his face. He was clearlymoved.
"I am glad of that. Very glad. I saw some months ago, in anewspaper--where is he?"
"In New York. Now Melis, I've an idea that you know something about thecrime Judson Clark was accused of. You intimated that at the inquest."
"Mrs. Lucas killed him."
"So she says," Bassett said easily.
The valet jumped and stared.
"She admits it, as the result of an accident. She also admits hiding therevolver where you found it."
"Then you do not need me."
"I'm not so sure of that."
The valet was puzzled.
"I want you to think back, Melis. You saw her go down the stairs,sometime before the shot. Later you were confident she had hidden therevolver, and you made a second search for it. Why? You hadn't heard hertestimony at the inquest then. Clark had run away. Why didn't you thinkClark had done it?"
"Because I thought she was having an affair with another man. I havealways thought she did it."
Bassett nodded.
"I thought so. What made you think that?"
"I'll tell you. She went West without a maid, and Mr. Clark got aSwedish woman from a ranch near to look after her, a woman namedThorwald. She lived at her own place and came over every day. One night,after Mrs. Thorwald had started home, I came across her down the roadnear the irrigator's house, and there was a man with her. They didn'thear me behind them, and he was giving her a note for some one in thehouse."
"Why not for one of the servants?"
"That's what I thought then, sir. It wasn't my business. But I saw thesame man later on, hanging about the place at night, and once I sawher with him--Mrs. Lucas, I mean. That was in the early evening. Thegentlemen were out riding, and I'd gone with one of the maids to a hillto watch the moon rise. They were on some rocks, below in the canyon."
"Did you see him?"
"I think it was the same man, if that's what you mean. I knew somethingqueer was going on, after that, and I watched her. She went out at nightmore than once. Then I told Donaldson there was somebody hanging roundthe place, and he set a watch."
"Fine. Now we'll go to the night Lucas was shot. Was the Thorwald womanthere?"
"She had started home."
"Leaving Mrs. Lucas packing alone?"
"Yes. I hadn't thought of that. The Thorwald woman heard the shot andcame back. I remember that, because she fainted upstairs and I had tocarry her to a bed."
"I see. Now about the revolver."
"I located it the first time I looked for it. Donaldson and the othershad searched the billiard room. So I tried the big room. It was undera chair. I left it there, and concealed myself in the room. She, Mrs.Lucas, came down late that night and hunted for it. Then she hid itwhere I got it later."
"I wish I knew, Melis, why you didn't bring those facts out at theinquest."
"You must remember this, sir. I had been with Mr. Clark for a long time.I knew the situation. And I thought that he had gone away that nightto throw suspicion from her to himself. I was not certain what to do. Iwould have told it all in court, but it never came to trial."
Bassett was satisfied and fairly content. After the Frenchman'sdeparture he sat for some time, making careful notes and studying them.Supposing the man Melis had seen to be Clifton Hines, a good many thingswould be cleared up. Some new element he had to have, if Gregory'sstory were to be disproved, some new and different motive. Suppose, forinstance...
He got up and paced the floor back and forward, forward and back. Therewas just one possibility, and just one way of verifying it. He sat downand wrote out a long telegram and then got his hat and carried it to thetelegraph office himself. He had made his last throw.
He received a reply the following day, and in a state of exhilarationbordering on madness packed his bag, and as he packed it addressed it,after the fashion of lonely men the world over.
"Just one more trip, friend cowhide," he said, "and then you and Iare going to settle down again to work. But it's some trip, oldarm-breaker."
He put in his pajamas and handkerchiefs, his clean socks and collars,and then he got his revolver from a drawer and added it. Justtwenty-four hours later he knocked at Dick's door in a boarding-house onWest Ninth Street, found it unlocked, and went in. Dick was asleep,and Bassett stood looking down at him with an odd sort of paternalaffection. Finally he bent down and touched his shoulder.
"Wake up, old top," he said. "Wake up. I have some news for you."