XXIV
Vandervent entered the Walbrough living-room with a jerky stride thattestified to his excitement. A dozen questions were crowded against histeeth. But, though the swift motor-ride down-town had not been too brieffor him to marshal them in the order of their importance, he forgot themas he met Clancy's eyes.
They should have been penitent eyes; and they were not. They should havebeen frightened eyes; and they were not. They should have been pleadingeyes; and they were not. Instead, they were mischievous, mocking,almost. Also, they were deep, fathomless. Looking into them, thereproach died out in Vandervent's own. The pleading that should havebeen in Clancy's appeared in Vandervent's, although he undoubtedly wasunconscious of the fact.
On the way there, he had been aware of himself as a trained lawyerconfronted with a desperate, a possibly tragic situation. Now he wasaware of himself only as a man confronting a woman.
He acknowledged the presence of the Walbroughs and of Randall with acarelessness that seemed quite natural to the older people but whichmade Randall eye the newcomer curiously. In love himself, Randall wasquick to suspect its existence in the heart of another man.
"So," said Vandervent, "you weren't joking with me Friday, eh, MissDeane?"
She shook her head slowly. There was something in her manner that seemedto say to him that she had transferred her difficulties to him, andthat, if he were half the man she believed him to be, he'd accept themungrudgingly.
"Suppose I hear the whole story," suggested Vandervent.
Intently, he listened as, prompted by the judge when she slid overmatters that seemed unimportant to her, she retold the tale of the pastweek. The judge took up the burden of speech as soon as she relinquishedit.
"So you see, Vandervent, your job is to get hold of this elevator-manand persuade him that his identification is all wrong."
Vandervent pursed his lips; he whistled softly.
"I haven't as good a memory as I ought to have, Judge. I can't recallthe exact penalty for interference with the course of justice."
Clancy's eyes blazed.
"Judge, please don't ask Mr. Vandervent to do anything wrong. I wouldn'thave him take any risk. I----"
Vandervent colored.
"Please, Miss Deane! You should know that I intend--that I will doanything--I was intending to be a little humorous."
"No time for humor," grunted the judge.
Vandervent looked at Mrs. Walbrough. Her glance was uncompromisinglyhostile. Only in Randall's eyes did he read anything approximatingsympathy. And he resented finding it there.
"The--er--difficulties----" he began.
"Not much difficulty in shutting an elevator-boy's mouth, is there?"demanded the judge. "It isn't as though we were asking you really tointerfere with the course of justice, Vandervent. You realize that MissDeane is innocent, don't you?"
"Certainly," said Vandervent. "But--I'm an officer of the law, Judge."
"Does that mean that you won't help Miss Deane? Good God! You aren'tgoing to let a young woman's name be dragged through a filthy mess likethis, are you?"
"Not if I can help it," said Vandervent.
"That's better," grunted the judge. "But how do you expect to help it,though?"
"By finding the real murderer."
"When?" roared Walbrough. "To-day?"
Vandervent colored again.
"As soon as possible. I don't know when. But to shut up the boy--thinkit over, Judge. He works for the Vandervent estate, it's true. But Idon't own his soul, you know. Think of the opportunities for blackmailwe give him. It's impossible, Judge--and unnecessary. If Spofford goesto him again, it's the elevator-boy's word against yours. Worthless!"
"And you, of course, knowing that I lied, would feel compelled, as anofficer of the law----"
"I'd feel compelled to do nothing!" snapped Vandervent. "Your word wouldbe taken unreservedly by the district attorney's office. The matter endsright there."
"Unless," said the judge softly, "the boy goes to a newspaper. In whichcase, his charge and my alibi would be printed. And five directors ofthe Metals and Textiles Bank would immediately recollect that I had beenpresent at a meeting on Tuesday afternoon between the hours of one andsix. Likewise, thirty-odd ladies, all present at Mrs. Rayburn's bridge,would remember that my wife had been at Mrs. Rayburn's house all ofTuesday afternoon." He groaned. "I had to think of something,Vandervent. I told the first lie that popped into my head. Our alibi forMiss Deane will go crashing into bits once it's examined, once there'sthe least publicity. Publicity! That's all that Miss Deane fears, allthat we fear for her. Scandal! We've got to stop that."
"Exactly; we _will_ stop it," said Vandervent. "There's a way." Oddly,he blushed vividly as he spoke. "I know of one way--but we won't dwellon that just now. I--I have a right--to suppress information that--thatI don't think is essential to the enforcing of justice. I--I--if thesuppressing of the elevator-man would work good for Miss Deane, I wouldsee to his suppression. Because I know her to be innocent."
"Well, what are you going to do?" demanded the judge.
Vandervent shrugged.
"It's not an offhand matter, Judge. We must think."
They thought. But Clancy's thoughts traveled far afield from thetremendous issue that confronted her. Mentally, she was comparingRandall and Vandervent, trying to find out what it was in Randall that,during the past few hours, had depressed her, aroused her resentment.
"You see," said Vandervent finally, "the relations between the PoliceDepartment and the district attorney's office are rather strained at themoment. If the police should happen to learn, in any way, that we'vebeen conducting an independent investigation into the Beiner murder andthat we'd dropped it----"
"Where would they learn it?" asked the judge. His brusqueness had lefthim. With a little thrill that might have been amazement, Clancy notedthat the few minutes' silence had somehow caused Judge Walbrough to dropinto a secondary place; Vandervent now seemed to have taken command ofthe situation.
"Spofford," answered Vandervent.
"Would he dare?" asked the judge.
Vandervent laughed.
"Even the lowly plain-clothes man plays politics. There'll be glory of asort for the man who solves the Beiner mystery. If Spofford finallydecides that he is by way of being close to the solution, I don'tbelieve that he can be stopped from telling it to the police or thenewspapers."
"And you don't see any way of stopping Spofford?" asked the judge.
"He may have been convinced by your story," Vandervent suggested.
The judge shook his head.
"His conviction won't last."
Vandervent shrugged.
"In that case-- Well, we can wait."
Clancy interjected herself into the conversation.
"You won't really just simply wait? You'll be trying to find out whoreally killed Mr. Beiner?"
"You may be sure of that," said Vandervent. "You see"--and he shruggedagain--"we become one-idea'd a bit too easily in the district attorney'soffice. It's a police habit, too. We know that a young woman had beenin Beiner's office, that Beiner had had an engagement to take a youngwoman over to a film-studio. We discovered a card introducing a MissLadue to Beiner. From its position on Beiner's desk, we dared assumethat the young woman of the studio appointment was this Miss Ladue. Ourassumptions were correct, it seems. But we didn't stop at thatassumption; we assumed that she was the murderess. We were wrong there."
Clancy's bosom lifted at his matter-of-fact statement. With so muchevidence against her, and with this evidence apparently corroborated byher flight, it was wonderful to realize that not a single person to whomshe had told her story doubted it.
"And, because we believed that we had hit upon the correct theory, wedropped all other ends of the case," continued Vandervent. "Now, withthe case almost a week old--oh, we'll get him--or her--all right," headded hastily. "Only--the notoriety that may occur first----" He brokeoff abruptly.
Clancy's bosom fell; her ho
pes also. The palms of her hands becamemoist. In the presence of Vandervent, she realized more fully than everwhat notoriety might mean. Vandervent sensed her horror.
"But I assure you, Miss Deane, that we'll avoid that notoriety. I know away----"
"What?" demanded the judge.
"Well, we'll wait a bit," said Vandervent. "Meanwhile, I'm going to theoffice."
"On Sunday?" asked Mrs. Walbrough. Vandervent smiled faintly.
"I think I'll be forgiven--considering the cause for which I labor," hefinished. He was rewarded by a smile from Clancy that brought the colorto his cheeks.
And then, the blush still lingering, he left them. Walbrough escortedhim to the door. He returned, a puzzled look upon his face.
"Well, I wonder what he means by saying that he knows a way to keep thething out of the papers."
"You're an idiot!" snapped his wife "Why--any one ought to know what hemeans."
The judge ran his fingers across the top of his head.
"'Any one ought to know,' eh? Well, I'm one person that doesn't."
"You'll find out soon enough," retorted Mrs. Walbrough. She turned toClancy. "Come along, dear; you must lie down."
Randall, whose silence during the past half-hour had been conspicuous,opened his mouth.
"Why--er----," he began.
But Mrs. Walbrough cut him off.
"You'll forgive Miss Deane, won't you?" she pleaded. "She's exhausted,poor thing, though she doesn't know it."
Indeed, Clancy didn't know it, hadn't even suspected it. But she couldoffer no protest. Mrs. Walbrough was dominating the situation asVandervent had been doing a few moments ago. She found herself shakinghands with Randall, thanking him, telling him that her plans necessarilywere uncertain, but adding, with the irrepressible Clancy grin, that, ifshe weren't here, she'd certainly be in jail where any one could findher, and bidding him good-by. All this without knowing exactly why.Randall deserved better treatment. Yet, queerly enough, she didn't wantto accord it to him.
A little later, she was uncorseted and lying down in a Walbrough guestbedroom, a charming room in soft grays that soothed her and made heryearn for night and sleep. Just now she wasn't the least bit sleepy, butshe yielded to Mrs. Walbrough's insistence that she should rest.
Mrs. Walbrough, leaving her guest, found her husband in his study; hewas gravely mixing himself a cocktail. She surveyed him with contempt.Mildly he looked at her.
"What have I done now?" he demanded.
"Almost rushed that poor girl into a marriage," she replied.
"'Marriage?' God bless me--what do you mean?"
"Asking again and again what Phil Vandervent meant when he said that heknew a way to avoid publicity. And then you didn't have sense enough toedge young Randall out of the house. You let me be almost rude to him."
"Well, why should I have been the one to be rude? Why be rude, anyway?He's been darned nice to the girl."
"That's just it! Do you want her to keep thinking how nice he is?"
"Well, in the name of heaven, why not?" demanded her exasperatedhusband.
"Because he's not good enough for her."
"Why isn't he?"
"Because she can do better."
The judge drained his cocktail.
"Mrs. Walbrough, do you know I haven't the faintest idea what you'retalking about?"
"Of course you haven't! You'd have let her stay here and listen, maybe,to a proposal from that young man, and perhaps accept it, andpossibly----"
"Peace!" thundered the judge. "No more supposes,' please. I'll not behenpecked in my own house."
She came close to him and put her arm about him.
"Where shall I henpeck you then, Tommy boy?" she asked.
"'Tommy boy! Tommy boy?' O my good Lord, what talk!" sputtered thejudge. But he kissed her as she lifted her mouth to his.