The Gold Bag .......................................................................................................................................................1

Though a young detective, I am not entirely an inexperienced one, and I have several fairly successful

The Chief said to me one day: "Burroughs, if there's a mystery to be unravelled; I'd rather put it in your hands

"Because," he went on, "you go about it scientifically, and you never jump at conclusions, or accept them,

I declared myself duly grateful for the Chief's kind words, but I was secretly a bit chagrined. A detective's

ambition is to be, considered capable of jumping at conclusions, only the conclusions must always prove to

But though I am an earnest and painstaking worker, though my habits are methodical and systematic, and

though I am indefatigably patient and persevering, I can never make those brilliant deductions from

seemingly unimportant clues that Fleming Stone can. He holds that it is nothing but observation and logical

The smallest detail in the way of evidence immediately connotes in his mind some important fact that is

indisputable, but which would never have occurred to me. I suppose this is largely a natural bent of his brain,

Of course I can deduce some facts, and my colleagues often say I am rather clever at it, but they don't know

Fleming Stone as well as I do, and don't realize that by comparison with his talent mine is insignificant.

And so, it is both by way of entertainment, and in hope of learning from him, that I am with him whenever

possible, and often ask him to "deduce" for me, even at risk of boring him, as, unless he is in the right mood,

I met him accidentally one morning when we both chanced to go into a basement of the Metropolis Hotel in

It was about halfpast nine, and as I like to get to my office by ten o'clock, I looked forward to a pleasant

halfhour's chat with him. While waiting our turn to get a chair, we stood talking, and, seeing a pair of shoes

"Now, I suppose, Stone, from looking at those shoes, you can deduce all there is to know about the owner of

I remember that Sherlock Holmes wrote once, "From a drop of water, a logician could infer the possibility of

an Atlantic or a Niagara without having seen or heard of one or the other," but when I heard Fleming Stone's

reply to my halflaughing challenge, I felt that he had outdone the mythical logician. With a mild twinkle in

"Those shoes belong to a young man, five feet eight inches high. He does not live in New York, but is here to

visit his sweetheart. She lives in Brooklyn, is five feet nine inches tall, and is deaf in her left ear. They went

"Oh, pshaw!" said I, "as you are acquainted with this man, and know how he spent last evening, your relation

"I don't know him," Stone returned; "I've no idea what his name is, I've never seen him, and except what I can

I stared at him incredulously, as I always did when confronted by his astonishing "deductions," and simply

"It did sound well, reeled off like that, didn't it?" he observed, chuckling more at my air of eager curiosity

than at his own achievement. "But it's absurdly easy, after all. He is a young man because his shoes are in the

very latest, extreme, not exclusive style. He is five feet eight, because the size of his foot goes with that

height of man, which, by the way, is the height of nine out of ten men, any way. He doesn't live in New York

or he wouldn't be stopping at a hotel. Besides, he would be downtown at this hour, attending to business."

"Yes, that might be. But I still hold that he doesn't live in New York, or he couldn't be staying at this

Broadway hotel overnight, and sending his shoes down to be shined at halfpast nine in the morning. His

sweetheart is five feet nine, for that is the height of a tall girl. I know she is tall, for she wears a long skirt.

Short girls wear short skirts, which make them look shorter still, and tall girls wear very long skirts, which

"I don't know. You'll have to ask that of some one wiser than I. But I know it's a fact. A girl wouldn't be

considered really tall if less than five feet nine. So I know that's her height. She is his sweetheart, for no man

would go from New York to Brooklyn and bring a lady over here to the theatre, and then take her home, and

return to New York in the early hours of the morning, if he were not in love with her. I know she lives in

Brooklyn, for the paper says there was a heavy shower there last night, while I know no rain fell in New

York. I know that they were out in that rain, for her long skirt became muddy, and in turn muddied the whole

upper of his left shoe. The fact that only the left shoe is so soiled proves that he walked only at her right side,

showing that she must be deaf in her left ear, or he would have walked part of the time on that side. I know

that they went to the theatre in New York, because he is still sleeping at this hour, and has sent his boots

down to be cleaned, instead of coming down with them on his feet to be shined here. If he had been merely

calling on the girl in Brooklyn, he would have been home early, for they do not sit up late in that borough. I

know they went to the theatre, instead of to the opera or a ball, for they did not go in a cab, otherwise her skirt

would not have become muddied. This, too, shows that she wore a cloth skirt, and as his shoes are not patent

I didn't try to get a verification of Fleming Stone's assertions; I didn't want any. Scores of times I had known

him to make similar deductions and in cases where we afterward learned the facts, he was invariably correct.

So, though we didn't follow up this matter, I was sure he was right, and, even if he hadn't been, it would not

We separated then, as we took chairs at some distance from each other, and, with a sigh of regret that I could

never hope to go far along the line in which Stone showed such proficiency, I began to read my morning

Fleming Stone left the place before I did, nodding a goodby as he passed me, and a moment after, my own

footgear being in proper condition, I, too, went out, and went straight to my office.

As I walked the short distance, my mind dwelt on Stone's quickwitted work. Again I wished that I possessed

the kind of intelligence that makes that sort of thing so easy. Although unusual, it is, after all, a trait of many

minds, though often, perhaps, unrecognized and undeveloped by its owner. I dare say it lies dormant in men

who have never had occasion to realize its value. Indeed, it is of no continuous value to anyone but a

So I walked along, envying my friend Stone his gift, and reached my office just at ten o'clock as was my

"Hurry up, Mr. Burroughs!" cried my officeboy, as I opened the door. "You're wanted on the telephone."

Though a respectful and wellmannered boy, some excitement had made him a trifle unceremonious, and I

But with the first words I heard, the officeboy was forgotten, and my own nerves received a shock as I

listened to the message. It was from the Detective Bureau with which I was connected, and the superintendent

himself was directing me to go at once to West Sedgwick, where a terrible crime had just been discovered.

"Yes; murdered in his home in West Sedgwick. The coroner telephoned to send a detective at once and we

"No; only that he was shot during the night and the body found this morning. Mr. Crawford was a big man,

Yes; I knew Joseph Crawford by name, though not personally, and I knew he was a big man in the business

world, and his sudden death would mean excitement in Wall Street matters. Of his home, or homelife, I

"I'll go right off," I assured the Chief, and turned away from the telephone to find Donovan, the officeboy,

"Good boy, Don," said I approvingly; "what's the next train to West Sedgwick, and how long does it take to

"You kin s'lect the tentwenty, Mr. Burruz, if you whirl over in a taxi an' shoot the tunnel," said Donovan,

who was rather a graphic conversationalist. "That'll spill you out at West Sedgwick 'bout quarter of 'leven.

"Yessir. He was a big plute. Here's your timetable, Mr. Burruz. When'll you be back?"

"Sure! everything'll be took care of. Lemme know your orders when you have 'em."

By means of the taxi Don had called and the tunnel route as he had suggested, I caught the train, satisfied that

Lose no time indeed! I was more anxious than any one else could possibly be to reach the scene of the crime

before significant clues were obliterated or destroyed by bungling investigators. I had had experience with the

police of suburban towns, and I well knew their two principal types. Either they were of a pompous, dignified

demeanor, which covered a bewildered ignorance, or else they were overzealous and worked with a

misdirected energy that made serious trouble for an intelligent detective. Of course, of the two kinds I

On my way I diverted my mind, and so partly forgot my impatience, by endeavoring to "deduce" the station

Opposite me in the tunnel train sat a mildfaced gentleman, and from the general, appearance of his head and

hat I concluded he was a clergyman. I studied him unostentatiously and tried to find some indication of the

denomination he might belong to, or the character of his congregation, but as I watched, I saw him draw a

sporting paper from his pocket, and turning his hand, a hitherto unseen diamond flashed brilliantly from his

little finger. I hastily, revised my judgment, and turning slightly observed the man who sat next me.

Determined to draw only logical inferences, I scrutinized his coat, that garment being usually highly

suggestive to our best regulated detectives. I noticed that while the left sleeve was unworn and in good

condition, the right sleeve was frayed at the inside edge, and excessively smooth and shiny on the inner

forearm. Also the top button of the coat was very much worn, and the next one slightly.

"Aha!" said I to myself, "I've nailed you, my friend. You're a deskclerk, and you write all day long,

standing at a desk. The worn top button rubs against your desk as you stand, which it would not do were you

With a pardonable curiosity to learn if I were right, I opened conversation with the young man. He was not

unwilling to respond, and after a few questions I learned, to my chagrin, that he was a photographer. Alas for

my deductions! But surely, Fleming Stone himself would not have guessed a photographer from a worn and

shiny coatsleeve. At the risk of being rudely personal, I made some reference to fashions in coats. The

young man smiled and remarked incidentally, that owing to certain circumstances he was at the moment

He gave me a surprised glance, but answered courteously enough, "Yes;" and the conversation flagged.

Exultantly I thought that my deduction, though rather an obvious one, was right; but after another furtive

glance at the young man, I realized that Stone would have known he was wearing another's coat, for it was

Once more I tried, and directed my attention to a middleaged, angularlooking woman, whose strong,

sharpfeatured face betokened a prim spinster, probably at the head of a girls' school, or engaged in some

clerical work. However, as I passed her on my way to leave the train I noticed a weddingring on her hand,

and heard her say to her companion, "No; I think a woman's sphere is in her own kitchen and nursery. How

could I think otherwise, with my six children to bring up?" After these lamentable failures, I determined not

to trust much to deduction in the case I was about to investigate, but to learn actual facts from actual

I reached West Sedgwick, as Donovan had said, at quarter before eleven. Though I had never been there

before, the place looked quite as I had imagined it. The railway station was one of those modern attractive

structures of rough gray stone, with picturesque projecting roof and broad, clean platforms. A flight of stone

steps led down to the roadway, and the landscape in every direction showed the wellkept roads, the

wellgrown trees and the carefullytended estates of a town of suburban homes. The citizens were doubtless

The superintendent must have apprised the coroner by telephone of my immediate arrival, for a village cart

from the Crawford establishment was awaiting me, and a smart groom approached and asked if I were Mr.

A little disappointed at having no more desirable companion on my way to the house, I climbed up beside the

driver, and the groom solemnly took his place behind. Not curiosity, but a justifiable desire to learn the main

I glanced at him first and saw only the usual blank countenance of the welltrained coachman.

His face was intelligent, and his eyes alert, but his impassive expression showed his habit of controlling any

I felt there would be difficulty in ingratiating myself at all, but I felt sure that subterfuge would not help me,

I hadn't really expected more than this in words, but his tone was so decidedly uninviting of further

conversation that I almost concluded to say nothing more. But the drive promised to be a fairly long one, so I

"As the detective on this case, I wish to hear the story of it as soon as I can. Perhaps you can give me a brief

It was perhaps my straightforward manner, and my quite apparent assumption of his intelligence, that made

"We're forbidden to chatter, sir," he said, "but, bein' as you're the detective, I s'pose there's no harm. But it's

little we know, after all. The master was well and sound last evenin', and this mornin' he was found dead in

"Yes, sir. Mr. Crawford went to his office in New York 'most every day, but days when he didn't go, and

"I don't rightly know, sir, if it was Louis, his valet, or Lambert, the butler, but it was one or t'other, sir."

The man hesitated a moment, and looked as if uncertain what to reply, then, as he set his jaw squarely, he

"Tell me something of the town," I observed next, feeling that it was better to ask no more vital questions of a

We were driving along streets of great beauty. Large and handsome dwellings, each set in the midst of

extensive and finelykept grounds, met the view on either aide. Elaborate entrances opened the way to wide

sweeps of driveway circling green velvety lawns adorned with occasional shrubs or flowerbeds. The

avenues were wide, and bordered with trees carefully set out and properly trimmed. The streets were in fine

condition, and everything betokened a community, not only wealthy, but intelligent and publicspirited.

Surely West Sedgwick was a delightful location for the homes of wealthy New York business men.

"Well, sir," said the coachman, with unconcealed pride, "Mr. Crawford was the head of everything in the

place. His is the handsomest house and the grandest grounds. Everybody respected him and looked up to him.

This was an opening for further conjecture as to the murderer, and I said: "But the man who killed him must

"Yes, sir; but I mean no enemy that anybody knew of. It must have been some burglar or intruder."

Though I wanted to learn such facts as the coachman might know, his opinions did not interest me, and I

"That place over there," the man went on, pointing with his whip, "is Mr. Philip Crawford's house the

brother of my master, sir. Them red towers, sticking up through the trees, is the house of Mr. Lemuel Porter,

a great friend of both the Crawford brothers. Next, on the left, is the home of Horace Hamilton, the great

electrician. Oh, Sedgwick is full of wellknown men, sir, but Joseph Crawford was king of this town.

I knew of Mr. Crawford's high standing in the city, and now, learning of his local preeminence, I began to

"Here we are, sir," said the driver, as we turned in at a fine stone gateway. "This is the Joseph Crawford

He spoke with a sort of reverent pride, and I afterward learned that his devotion to his late master was truly

This probably prejudiced him in favor of the Crawford place and all its appurtenances, for, to me, the estate

was not so magnificent as some of the others we had passed. And yet, though not so large, I soon realized that

every detail of art or architecture was perfect in its way, and that it was really a gem of a country home to

We drove along a curving road to the house, passing wellarranged flower beds, and many valuable trees and

shrubs. Reaching the porte cochere the driver stopped, and the groom sprang down to hand me out.

As might be expected, many people were about. Men stood talking in groups on the veranda, while

The effect of the interior of the house impressed me pleasantly. As I passed through the wide hall and into the

drawingroom, I was conscious of an atmosphere of wealth tempered by good taste and judgment.

The drawingroom was elaborate, though not ostentatious, and seemed well adapted as a social setting for

Joseph Crawford and his family. It should have been inhabited by men and women in gala dress and with

It was therefore a jarring note when I perceived its only occupant to be a commonplace looking man, in an

illcut and illfitting business suit. He came forward to greet me, and his manner was a trifle pompous as he

announced, "My name is Monroe, and I am the coroner. You, I think, are Mr. Burroughs, from New York."

It was probably not intentional, and may have been my imagination, but his tone seemed to me amusingly

"Yes, I am Mr. Burroughs," I said, and I looked at Mr. Monroe with what I hoped was an expression that

I fear I impressed him but slightly, for he went on to tell me that he knew of my reputation as a clever

detective, and had especially desired my attendance on this case. This sentiment was well enough, but he still

kept up his air and tone of patronage, which however amused more than irritated me.

I knew the man by hearsay, though we had never met before; and I knew that he was of a nature to be pleased

with his own prominence as coroner, especially in the case of so important a man as Joseph Crawford.

So I made allowance for this harmless conceit on his part, and was even willing to cater to it a little by way of

pleasing him. He seemed to me a man, honest, but slow of thought; rather practical and serious, and though

"Mr. Burroughs," he said, " I'm very glad you could get here so promptly; for the case seems to me a

mysterious one, and the value of immediate investigation cannot be overestimated."

"I quite agree with you," I returned. "And now will you tell me the principal facts, as you know them, or will

"I am even now getting a jury together," he said, "and so you will be able to hear all that the witnesses may

say in their presence. In the meantime, if you wish to visit the scene of the crime, Mr. Parmalee will take you

At the sound of his name, Mr. Parmalee stepped forward and was introduced to me. He proved to be a local

detective, a young man who always attended Coroner Monroe on occasions like the present; but who, owing

to the rarity of such occasions in West Sedgwick, had had little experience in criminal investigation.

He was a young man of the type often seen among Americans. He was very fair, with a pink complexion,

thin, yellow hair and weak eyes. His manner was nervously alert, and though he often began to speak with an

air of positiveness, he frequently seemed to weaken, and wound up his sentences in a floundering uncertainty.

He seemed to be in no way jealous of my presence there, and indeed spoke to me with an air of comradeship.

Doubtless I was unreasonable, but I secretly resented this. However I did not show my resentment and

The coroner had left us together, and we stood in the drawingroom, talking, or rather he talked and I

listened. Upon acquaintance he seemed to grow more attractive. He was impulsive and jumped at

conclusions, but he seemed to have ideas, though they were rarely definitely expressed.

He told me as much as he knew of the details of the affair and proposed that we go directly to the scene of the

"You see, it's this way," he said, in a confidential whisper, as we traversed the long hall: "there is no doubt in

any one's mind as to who committed the murder, but no name has been mentioned yet, and nobody wants to

be the first to say that name. It'll come out at the inquest, of course, and then "

"But," I interrupted, "if the identity of the murderer is so certain, why did they send for me in such haste?"

"Oh, that was the coroner's doing. He's a bit inclined to the spectacular, is Monroe, and he wants to make the

"But surely, Mr. Parmalee, if you are certain of the criminal it is very absurd for me to take up the case at all."

"Oh, well, Mr. Burroughs, as I say, no name has been spoken yet. And, too, a big case like this ought to have

a city detective on it. Even if you only corroborate what we all feel sure of, it will prove to the public mind

"Oh, no, since you are here you had better investigate with an unprejudiced mind. Though you cannot help

We had now reached a closed door, and, at Mr. Parmalee's tap, were admitted by the inspector who was in

It was a beautiful apartment, far too rich and elaborate to be designated by the name of "office," as it was

called by every one who spoke of it; though of course it was Mr. Crawford's office, as was shown by the

immense tabledesk of dark mahogany, and all the other paraphernalia of a banker's workroom, from ticker

But the decorations of walls and ceilings, the stained glass of the windows, the pictures, rugs, and vases, all

betokened luxurious tastes that are rarely indulged in office furnishings. The room was flooded with sunlight.

Long French windows gave access to a side veranda, which in turn led down to a beautiful terrace and formal

garden. But all these things were seen only in a hurried glance, and then my eyes fell on the tragic figure in

The body had not been moved, and would not be until after the jury had seen it, and though a ghastly sight,

because of a bullethole in the left temple, otherwise it looked much as Mr. Crawford must have looked in

A handsome man, of large physique and strong, stern face, he must have been surprised, and killed instantly;

for surely, given the chance, he would have lacked neither courage nor strength to grapple with an assailant.

I felt a deep impulse of sympathy for that splendid specimen of humanity, taken unawares, without having

been given a moment in which to fight for his life, and yet presumably seeing his murderer, as he seemed to

As I looked at that noble face, serene and dignified in its death pallor, I felt glad that my profession was such

And suddenly I had a revulsion of feeling against such petty methods as deductions from trifling clues.

Moreover I remembered my totally mistaken deductions of that very morning. Let other detectives learn the

truth by such claptrap means if they choose. This case was too large and too serious to be allowed to depend

on surmises so liable to be mistaken. No, I would search for real evidence, human testimony, reliable

witnesses, and so thorough, systematic, and persevering should my search be, that I would finally meet with

"Here's the clue," said Parmelee's voice, as he grasped my arm and turned me in another direction.

It was a woman's purse, or bag, of the sort known as "goldmesh." Perhaps six inches square, it bulged as if

"It's Miss Lloyd's," went on Parmalee. "She lives here, you know Mr. Crawford's niece. She's lived here for

"Well, you see, she's engaged to Gregory Hall he's Mr. Crawford's secretary and Mr. Crawford didn't

He shrugged his shoulders in a careless fashion, as if for a woman to shoot her uncle were an everyday affair.

"No; of course not," returned Parmalee. "She's no fool, Florence Lloyd isn't! She's locked in her room and

won't come out. Been there all the morning. Her maid says this isn't Miss Lloyd's bag, but of course she'd say

"Look for yourself. Monroe and I ran through the stuff, but there's nothing to say for sure whose bag it is."

A crumpled handkerchief, a pair of white kid gloves, a little trinket known as a "vanity case," containing a

tiny mirror and a tinier powder puff; a couple of small hairpins, a newspaper clipping, and a few silver coins

Nothing definite, indeed, and yet I knew if Fleming Stone could look at the little heap of feminine

belongings, he would at once tell the fair owner's age, height, and weight, if not her name and address.

I had only recently assured myself that such deductions were of little or no use, and yet, I could not help

minutely examining the pretty trifles lying on the desk. I scrutinized the handkerchief for a monogram or an

initial, but it had none. It was dainty, plain and fine, of sheer linen, with a narrow hem. To me it indicated an

owner of a refined, feminine type, and absolutely nothing more. I couldn't help thinking that even Fleming

Stone could not infer any personal characteristics of the lady from that blank square of linen.

The vanity case I knew to be a fad of fashionable women, and had that been monogrammed, it might have

proved a clue. But, though pretty, it was evidently not of any great value, and was merely such a trifle as the

And yet I felt exasperated that with so many articles to study, I could learn nothing of the individual to whom

they belonged. The gloves were hopeless. Of a good quality and a medium size, they seemed to tell me

nothing. They were but slightly soiled, and apparently might have been worn once or twice. They had never

been cleaned, as the inside showed no scrawled hieroglyphics. But all of these conclusions pointed nowhere

The hairpins and the silver money were equally bare of suggestion, but I hopefully picked up the bit of

"Surely this newspaper clipping must throw some light," I mused, but it proved to be only the address of a

"This is being taken care of?" I said, and the burly inspector, who up to now had not spoken, said:

"Yes, sir! Nobody touches a thing in this: room while I'm here. You, sir, are of course an exception, but no

This reminded me that as the detective in charge of this case, it was my privilegeindeed, my duty to

examine the papers and personal effects that were all about, in an effort to gather clues for future use.

I was ignorant of many important details, and turned to Parmelee for information.

That young man however, though voluble, was, inclined to talk on only one subject, the suspected criminal,

"You see, it must be her bag. Because who else could have left it here? Mrs. Pierce, the only other lady in the

house, doesn't carry a youngish bag like that. She'd have a black leather bag, more likely, or a, or a "

"Well, it really doesn't matter what kind of a bag Mrs. Pierce would carry," said I, a little impatiently; "the

thing is to prove whether this is Miss Lloyd's bag or not. And as it is certainly not a matter of conjecture, but

a matter of fact, I think we may leave it for the present, and turn our attention to other matters."

I could see that Parmalee was disappointed that I had made no startling deductions from my study of the bag

and its contents, and, partly owing to my own chagrin at this state of affairs, I pretended to consider the bag

The righthand upper drawer of the doublepedestalled desk was open. Seemingly, Mr. Crawford had been

At a glance, I saw the drawer contained exceedingly valuable and important papers.

With an air of authority, intentionally exaggerated for the purpose of impressing Parmalee, I closed the

This key was one of several on a keyring, and, taking it from its place, I dropped the whole bunch in my

pocket. This action at once put me in my rightful place. The two men watching me unconsciously assumed a

more deferential air, and, though they said nothing, I could see that their respect for my authority had

Strangely enough, after this episode, a new confidence in my own powers took possession of me, and,

shaking off the apathy that had come over me at sight of that dread figure in the chair, I set methodically to

Of course I noted the position of the furniture, the state of the windowfastenings, and such things in a few

moments. The many filing cabinets and indexed boxes, I glanced at, and locked those that had keys or

The inspector sat with folded hands watching me with interest but saying nothing. Parmalee, on the other

hand, kept up a running conversation, sometimes remarking lightly on my actions, and again returning to the

"I can see," he said, "that you naturally dislike to suspect a woman, and a young woman too. But you don't

know Miss Lloyd. She is haughty and wilful. And as I told you, nobody has mentioned her yet in this

connection. But I am speaking to you alone, and I have no reason to mince matters. And you know Florence

Lloyd is not of the Crawford stock. The Crawfords are a fine old family, and not one of them could be

capable of crime. But Miss Lloyd is on the other side of the house, a niece of Mrs. Crawford; and I've heard

that the Lloyd stock is not all that could be desired. There is a great deal in heredity, and she may not be

I paid little attention to Parmalee's talk, which was thrown at me in jerky, desultory sentences, and interested

me not at all. I went on with my work of investigation, and though I did not get down on my knees and

examine every square inch of the carpet with a lens, yet I thoroughly examined all of the contents of the

room. I regret to say, however, that I found nothing that seemed to be a clue to the murderer.

Stepping out on the veranda, I looked for footprints. The "light snow" usually so helpful to a detective had

not fallen, as it was April, and rather warm for the season. But I found many heel marks, apparently of men's

boots; yet they were not necessarily of very recent date, and I don't think much of footprint clues, anyhow.

Then I examined the carpet, or, rather, the several rugs which ornamented the beautiful polished floor.

I found nothing but two petals of a pale yellow rose. They were crumpled, but not dry or withered, and could

Parmalee chanced to have his back toward me as I spied them, and I picked them up and put them away in

my pocketbook without his knowledge. If the stolid inspector saw me, he made no sign. Indeed, I think he

would have said nothing if I had carried off the big desk itself. I looked round the room for a bouquet or vase

This far I had progressed when I heard steps in the hall, and a moment later the coroner ushered the six

It was just as the men came in at the door, that I chanced to notice a newspaper that lay on a small table. I

picked it up with an apparent air of carelessness, and, watching my chance, unobserved by Parmalee, I put the

The six men, whom Coroner Monroe named over to me, by way of a brief introduction, stepped silently as

For the jurymen had been gathered hastily from among the citizens of West Sedgwick who chanced to be

passing; and as it was after eleven o'clock, they were, for the most part, men of leisure, and occupants of the

Probably none of them had ever before been called to act on a coroner's jury, and all seemed impressed with

Two of the jurors had been mentioned to me by name, by the coachman who brought me from the station.

Horace Hamilton and Lemuel Porter were nearby neighbors of the murdered man, and; I judged from their

Mr. Hamilton was of the short, stout, baldheaded type, sometimes called aldermanic. It was plainly to be

seen that his was a jocund nature, and the awe which he felt in this dreadful presence of death, though clearly

shown on his rubicund face, was evidently a rare emotion with him. He glanced round the room as if

expecting to see everything there materially changed, and though he looked toward the figure of Mr.

Crawford now and then, it was with difficulty, and he averted his eyes as quickly as possible. He was

distinctly nervous, and though he listened to the remarks of Coroner Monroe and the other jurors, he seemed

Mr. Porter, in appearance, was almost the exact reverse of Mr. Hamilton. He was a middleaged man with

the iron gray hair and piercing dark eyes that go to make up what is perhaps the handsomest type of

Americans. He was a tall man, strong, lean and sinewy, with a bearing of dignity and decision. Both these

men were welldressed to the point of affluence, and, as near neighbor and intimate friends of the dead man,

Three more of the jurors seemed to me not especially noticeable in any way. They looked as one would

expect property owners in West Sedgwick to look. They listened attentively to what Mr. Monroe said, asked

few or no questions, and seemed appalled at the unusual task they had before them.

Only one juror impressed me unpleasantly. That was Mr. Orville, a youngish man, who seemed rather elated

at the position in which he found himself. He fingered nearly everything on the desk; he peered carefully into

the face of the victim of the crime, and he somewhat ostentatiously made notes in a small Russia leather

He spoke often to the coroner, saying things which seemed to me impertinent, such as, "Have you noticed the

blotter, Mr. Coroner? Very often, you know, much may be learned from the blotter on a man's desk."

As the large blotter in question was by no means fresh, indeed was thickly covered with ink impressions, and

as there was nothing to indicate that Mr. Crawford had been engaged in writing immediately before his death,

Mr. Orville's suggestion was somewhat irrelevant. And, too, the jurors were not detectives seeking clues, but

However, Mr. Orville fussed around, even looking into the wastebasket, and turning up a corner of a large

The others exhibited no such minute curiosity, and, after a few moments, they followed the coroner out of the

Then the doctor and his assistants came to take the body away, and I went in search of Coroner Monroe,

eager for further information concerning the case, of which I really, as yet, knew but little.

Parmalee went with me and we found Mr. Monroe in the library, quite ready to talk with us.

"Mr. Orville seems to possess the detective instinct himself," observed Mr. Parmalee, with what seemed like

"The true detective mind," returned Mr. Monroe, with his slow pomposity, "is not dependent on instinct or

"Oh, I think it is largely dependent on that," I said, "or where does it differ from the ordinary inquiring

"I'm sure you will agree with me, Mr. Burroughs," the coroner went on, almost as if I had not spoken, "that it

depends upon a nicely adjusted mentality that is quick to see the cause back of an effect."

To me this seemed a fair definition of intuition, but there was something in the unctuous roll of Mr. Monroe's

words that made me positive he was quoting his somewhat erudite speech, and had not himself a perfectly

"It's guessing," declared Parmalee, "that's all it is, guessing. If you guess right, you're a famous detective; if

"No, no, Mr. Parmalee," and Mr. Monroe slowly shook his finger at the rash youth "what you call

"To my mind," I put in, "detective divination is merely minute observation. But why do we quibble over

words and definitions when there is much work to be done? When is the formal inquest to be held, Mr.

"Then I'll go away now," I said, "for I must find an abiding place for myself in West Sedgwick. There is an

"They'll probably ask you to stay here," observed Coroner Monroe, "but I advise you not to do so. I think

"I quite agree with you," I replied. "But I see little chance of being invited to stay here. Where is the family?

"Not many. There is Miss Florence Lloyd, a niece of Mr. Crawford. That is, she is the niece of his wife. Mrs.

Crawford has been dead many years, and Miss Lloyd has kept house for her uncle all that time. Then there is

Mrs. Pierce, an elderly lady and a distant relative of Mr. Crawford's. That is all, except the secretary, Gregory

Hall, who lives here much of the time. That is, he has a room here, but often he is in New York or elsewhere

"Yes; and of late years he has stayed at home as much as possible. He went to New York only about three or

four days in the week, and conducted his business from here the rest of the time. Young Hall is a clever

"We think he's in New York, but haven't yet been able to locate him at Mr. Crawford's office there, or at his

club. He is engaged to Miss Lloyd, though I understand that the engagement is contrary to Mr. Crawford's

"They are both in their rooms. Mrs. Pierce is prostrated at the tragedy, and Miss Lloyd simply refuses to

"Oh, yes, of course. She'll be with us then. I think I won't say anything about her to you, as I'd rather you'd

"I don't think anything about it, Mr. Burroughs. As coroner it is not my place to think along such lines."

"Well, everybody else thinks so," broke in Parmalee. "And why? Because there's no one else for suspicion to

"Oh, come now, Mr. Parmalee," said I, "there must be others. They may not yet have come to our notice, but

surely you must admit an intruder could have come into the room by way of those long, open windows."

"These speculations are useless, gentlemen," said Mr. Monroe, with his usual air of settling the matter.

"Cease then, I beg, or at least postpone them. If you are walking down the avenue, Mr. Parmalee, perhaps

you'll be good enough to conduct Mr. Burroughs to the Sedgwick Arms, where he doubtless can find

I thanked Mr. Monroe for the suggestion, but said, straightforwardly enough, that I was not yet quite ready to

leave the Crawford house, but that I would not detain Mr. Parmalee, for I could myself find my way to the

So Parmalee went away, and I was about to return to Mr. Crawford's office where I hoped to pursue a little

But Mr. Monroe detained me a moment, to present me to a tall, finelooking man who had just come in.

He proved to be Philip Crawford, a brother of Joseph, and I at once observed a strong resemblance between

"I am glad to meet you, Mr. Burroughs," he said. "Mr. Monroe tells me you are a clever and experienced

detective, and I trust you can help us to avenge this dastardly crime. I am busy with some important matters

just now, but later I shall be glad to confer with you, and be of any help I can in your investigation."

I looked at Mr. Philip Crawford curiously. Of course I didn't expect him to give way to emotional grief, but it

jarred on me to hear him refer to his brother's tragic death in such cold tones, and with such a businesslike

However, I realized I did not know the man at all, and this attitude might be due to his effort in concealing his

He looked very like his brother Joseph, and I gathered from the appearance of both men, and the manner of

Philip, that the Crawford nature was one of repression and selfcontrol. Moreover, I knew nothing of the

sentiments of the two brothers, and it might easily be that they were not entirely in sympathy.

I thanked him for his offer of help, and then as he volunteered no further observations, I excused myself and

As I entered the great room and closed the door behind me, I was again impressed by the beauty and luxury

of the appointments. Surely Joseph Crawford must have been a man of fine calibre and refined tastes to enjoy

working in such an atmosphere. But I had only two short hours before the inquest, and I had many things to

do, so for the moment I set myself assiduously to work examining the room again. As in my first

examination, I did no microscopic scrutinizing; but I looked over the papers on and in the desk, I noted

conditions in the desk of Mr. Hall, the secretary, and I paid special attention to the position of the furniture

and windows, my thoughts all directed to an intruder from outside on Mr. Crawford's midnight solitude.

I stepped through the long French window on to the veranda, and after a thorough examination of the

veranda, I went on down the steps to the gravel walk. Against a small rosebush, just off the walk, I saw a

small slip of pink paper:. I picked it up, hardly daring to hope it might be a clue, and I saw it was a trolley

transfer, whose punched holes indicated that it had been issued the evening before. It might or might not be

important as evidence, but I put it carefully away in my notebook for later consideration.

Returning to the library I took the newspaper which I had earlier discovered from the drawer where I had

hidden it, and after one more swift but careful glance round the room, I went away, confident that I had not

I left the Crawford house and walked along the beautiful avenue to the somewhat pretentious inn bearing the

Here, as I had been led to believe, I found pleasant, even luxurious accommodations. The landlord of the inn

was smiling and pleasant, although landlord seems an oldfashioned term to apply to the very modern and

His name was Carstairs, and he had the genial, perceptive manner of a man about town.

"Dastardly shame!" he exclaimed, after he had assured himself of my identity. " Joseph Crawford was one of

our best citizens, one of our finest men. He hadn't an enemy in the world, my dear Mr. Burroughs not an

"Yes; yes, indeed. And who wouldn't? Young Hall is no fit mate for Florence Lloyd. He's a fortunehunter. I

know the man, and his only ambition is the aggrandizement of his own precious self."

"Concerned in crime? Florence Lloyd! why, man, you must be crazy! The idea is unthinkable!"

I was sorry I had spoken, but I remembered too late that the suspicions which pointed toward Miss Lloyd

were probably known only to those who had been in the Crawford house that morning. As for the

townspeople in general, though they knew of the tragedy, they knew very little of its details.

I hastened to assure Mr. Carstairs that I had never seen Miss Lloyd, that I had formed no opinions whatever,

and that I was merely repeating what were probably vague and erroneous suspicions of mistakenlyminded

At last, behind my locked door, I took from my pocket the newspaper I had brought from Mr. Crawford's

It seemed to me important, from the fact that it was an extra, published late the night before.

An Atlantic liner had met with a serious accident, and an extra had been hastily put forth by one of the most

enterprising of our evening papers. I, myself, had bought one of these extras, about midnight; and the finding

I then examined carefully the transfer slip I had picked up on the Crawford lawn. It had been issued after nine

o'clock the evening before. This. seemed to me to prove that the holder of that transfer must have been on the

Crawford property and near the library veranda late last night, and it seemed to me that this was plain

commonsense reasoning, and not mere intuition or divination. The transfer might have a simple and

innocent explanation, but until I could learn of that, I should hold it carefully as a possible clue.

Shortly before two o'clock I was back at the Crawford house and found the large library, where the inquest

was to be held, already well filled with people. I took an inconspicuous seat, and turned my attention first to

the group that comprised, without a doubt, the members of Mr. Crawford's household.

Miss Lloyd for I knew at a glance the blackrobed young woman must be she was of a striking

personality. Tall, large, handsome, she could have posed as a model for Judith, Zenobia, or any of the great

and powerful feminine characters in history. I was impressed not so much by her beauty as by her effect of

power and ability. I had absolutely no reason, save Parmalee's babblings, to suspect this woman of crime, but

I could not rid myself of a conviction that she had every appearance of being capable of it.

Yet her face was full of contradictions. The dark eyes were haughty, even imperious; but the red, curved

mouth had a tender expression, and the chin, though firm and decidedlooking, yet gave an impression of

On the whole, she fascinated me by the very mystery of her charm, and I found my eyes involuntarily

She was dressed in a black, trailing gown of material which I think is called China crepe. It fell around her in

soft waving folds and lay in little billows on the floor. Her dark hair was dressed high on her head, and

seemed to form a sort of crown which well suited her regal type. She held her head high, and the uplift of her

Good birth and breeding spoke in every phase of her personality, and in her every movement and gesture. I

remembered Parmalee's hint of unworthy ancestors, and cast it aside as impossible of belief. She spoke

seldom, but occasionally turned to the lady at her side with a few murmured words that were indubitably

Her companion, a grayhaired, elderly lady, was, of course, Mrs. Pierce. She was trembling with the

excitement of the occasion, and seemed to depend on Florence Lloyd's strong personality and affectionate

Mrs. Pierce was of the old school of gentlewomen. Her quiet, black gown with its crepe trimmings, gave,

even to my masculine eye an effect of correct and fashionable, yet quiet and unostentatious mourning garb.

She had what seemed to me a puzzling face. It did not suggest strength of character, for the soft old cheeks

and quivering lips indicated no strong selfcontrol, and yet from her sharp, dark eyes she now and again

I concluded that hers was a strong nature, but shaken to its foundation by the present tragedy. There was,

without doubt, a great affection existing between her and Miss Lloyd, and yet I felt that they were not in each

Though, for that matter, I felt intuitively that few people possessed the complete confidence of Florence

Lloyd. Surely she was a wonderful creature, and as I again allowed myself to gaze on her beautiful face I was

equally convinced of the possibility of her committing a crime and the improbability of her doing so.

Near these two sat a young man who, I was told, was Gregory Hall, the secretary. He had been reached by

telephone, and had come out from New York, arriving shortly after I had left the Crawford house.

Mr. Hall was what may be termed the average type of young American citizens. He was fairly goodlooking,

fairly wellgroomed, and so far as I could judge from his demeanor, fairly wellbred. His dark hair was

commonplace, and parted on the side, while his small, carefully arranged mustache was commonplace also.

He looked exactly what he was, the trusted secretary of a financial magnate, and he seemed to me a man

whose dress, manner, and speech would always be made appropriate to the occasion or situation. In fact, so

thoroughly did he exhibit just such a demeanor as suited a confidential secretary at the inquest of his

murdered employer, that I involuntarily thought what a fine undertaker he would have made. For, in my

experience, no class of men so perfectly adapt themselves to varying atmospheres as undertakers.

Philip Crawford and his son, an athletic looking young chap, were also in this group. Young Crawford

inherited to a degree the fine appearance of his father and uncle, and bade fair to become the same kind of a

Behind these people, the ones most nearly interested in the procedure, were gathered the several servants of

The man was a somewhat pompous, middleaged Englishman, and though of stolid appearance, his face

After a few formal questions as to his position in the household, the coroner asked him to tell his own story of

In a more clear and concise way than I should have thought the man capable of, he detailed his discovery of

"I came downstairs at seven this morning," he said, "as I always do. I opened the house, I saw the cook a

few moments about matters pertaining to breakfast, and I attended to my usual duties. At about halfpast

seven I went to Mr. Crawford's office, to set it in order for the day, and as I opened the door I saw him sitting

in his chair. At first I thought he'd dropped asleep there, and been there all night, then in a moment I saw

"I went in search of Louis, Mr. Crawford's valet. He was just coming down the stairs. He looked surprised,

for he said Mr. Crawford was not in his room, and his bed hadn't been slept in."

"No, sir. Not knowing what I knew, he didn't seemed alarmed. But he seemed agitated, for of course it was

"Well, sir, perhaps he wasn't to say agitated, he looked more blank, yes, as you might say, blank."

"Was he trembling?" persisted Mr. Orville, "was he pale?" and the coroner frowned slightly at this juror's

"Louis is always pale," returned the butler, seeming to make an effort to speak the exact truth.

"Then of course you couldn't judge of his knowledge of the matter," Mr. Orville said, with an air of one

"He had no knowledge of the matter, if you mean Mr. Crawford's death," said Lambert, looking disturbed and

"Tell your own story, Lambert," said Coroner Monroe, rather crisply. "We'll hear what Louis has to say

"Well, sir, then I took Louis to the office, and we both saw the the accident, and we wondered what to do. I

was for telephoning right off to Doctor Fairchild, but Louis said first we'd better tell Miss Florence about it."

"We went out in the hall, and just then Elsa, Miss Lloyd's maid, was on the stairs. So we told her, and told her

to tell Miss Lloyd, and ask her for orders. Well, her orders was for us to call up Doctor Fairchild, and so we

"A straightforward story, clearly told," observed the coroner, and then he called upon Louis, the valet. This

witness, a young Frenchman, was far more nervous and excited than the calmmannered butler, but the gist

"Non, M'sieu; when Monsieur Crawford sat late in his library, or his office, he dismiss me and say I may go

Although the man seemed sure enough of his statements he was evidently troubled in his mind. It might have

been merely that his French nature was more excitable than the stolid indifference of the English butler. But

at the same time I couldn't help feeling that the man had not told all he knew. This was merely surmise on my

part, and I could not persuade myself that there was enough ground for it to call it even an intuition. So I

concluded it best to ask no questions of the valet at present, but to look into his case later.

Parmalee, however, seemed to have concluded differently. He looked at Louis with an intent gaze as he said,

"Had your master said or done anything recently to make you think he was despondent or troubled in any

"No, sir," said the man; but the answer was not spontaneous, and Louis's eyes rolled around with an

expression of fear. I was watching him closely myself, and I could not help seeing that against his will his

glance sought always Florence Lloyd, and though he quickly averted it, he was unable to refrain from furtive,

"Do you know anything more of this matter than you have told us?" inquired the coroner of the witness.

"No, sir," replied Louis, and this time he spoke as with more certainty. "After Lambert and I came out of Mr.

"That's all, Louis . . . . But, Lambert, one other matter. Tell us all you know of Mr. Joseph Crawford's

"He was at dinner, as usual, sir," said the butler, in his monotonous drawl. "There were no guests, only the

family. After dinner Mr. Crawford went out for a time. He returned about nine o'clock. I saw him come in,

with his own key, and I saw him go to his office. Soon after Mr. Porter called."

"Yes, sir," said the butler; and Mr. Porter, who was one of the jurors, gravely nodded his head in

"He stayed until about ten, I should say," went on the butler, and again Mr. Porter gave an affirmative nod. "I

let him out myself," went on Lambert, "and soon after that I went to the library to see if Mr. Crawford had

any orders for me. He told me of some household matters he wished me to attend to today, and then he said

he would sit up for some time longer, and I might go to bed if I liked. A very kind and considerate man, sir,

"Yes, sir. I locked up all the house, except the office. Mr. Crawford always locks those windows himself,

when he sits up late. The ladies had already gone to their rooms; Mr. Hall was away for the night, so I closed

up the front of the house, and went to bed. That's all I know about the matter, sir until I came downstairs

"No, sir. But my room is on the third floor, and at the other end of the house, sir. I couldn't hear a shot fired in

"No, sir; Louis and I both looked for that, but there was none in the room. Of that I'm sure, sir."

"One moment," said I, wishing to know the exact condition of the house at midnight. "You say, Lambert, you

"It means I locked the front door, sir, and put the chain on. The library door opening on to the veranda I did

not lock, for, as I said, Mr. Crawford always locks that and the windows in there when he is there late. The

"Oh, Louis was spending the evening out, was he?" exclaimed Mr. Orville. "I think that should be looked

Coroner Monroe turned again to Louis and asked him where he was the evening before.

The man was now decidedly agitated, but by an effort he controlled himself and answered steadily enough:

"I have tell you that Mr. Crawford say I may go wherever I like. And so, last evening I spend with a young

Louis hesitated a moment. It could easily be seen that he was pausing only to enable himself to speak

naturally and clearly, but it was only after one of those darting glances at Miss Lloyd that he replied:

"I could not see Mr. Crawford's office, because I go around the other side of the house. I make my entree by

the back door; I go straight to my room, and I know nothing of my master until I go to his room this morning

"As I pass his door, I see it open, and his light low, so I know he is still below stair."

Louis's face turned a shade whiter than usual, but he said distinctly, though in a low voice, " No, sir."

An involuntary gasp as of amazement was heard, and though I looked quickly at Miss Lloyd, it was not she

who had made the sound. It was one of the maidservants, a pretty German girl, who sat behind Miss Lloyd.

No one else seemed to notice it, and I realized it was not surprising that the strain of the occasion should thus

"You heard Louis come in, Lambert?" asked Mr. Monroe, who was conducting the whole inquiry in a

The butler stood with folded hands, a sad expression in his eyes, but with an air of importance that seemed to

He testified that he had been summoned that morning at about quarter before eight o'clock. He had gone

immediately to Mr. Crawford's house, was admitted by the butler, and taken at once to the office. He found

Mr. Crawford dead in his chair, shot through the left temple with a thirtytwo calibre revolver.

"Excuse me," said Mr. Lemuel Porter, who, with the other jurors, was listening attentively to all the

"I extracted the bullet from the wound," returned Doctor Fairchild, "and those who know have pronounced it

"But if Mr. Crawford had committed suicide, the pistol would have been there," said Mr. Porter; who seemed

"Exactly," agreed the coroner. "That's why we must conclude that Mr. Crawford did not take his own life."

"Nor would he have done so," declared Doctor Fairchild. "I have known the deceased for many years. He had

no reason for wishing to end his life, and, I am sure, no inclination to do so. He was shot by an alien hand,

"Thus we assume," the coroner went on, as the doctor finished his simple statement and resumed his seat,

"that Mr. Crawford remained ins his office, occupied with his business matters, until midnight or later, when

some person or persons came into his room, murdered him, and went away again, without making sufficient

"Perhaps Mr. Crawford himself had fallen asleep in his chair," suggested one of the jurors, the Mr. Orville,

"It is possible," said the doctor, as the remark was practically addressed to him, "but not probable. The

attitude in which the body was found indicates that the victim was awake, and in full possession of his

"Which seems to show," said the coroner, "that his assailant was not a burglar or tramp, for in that case he

would surely have risen and tried to put him out. The fact that Mr. Crawford was evidently shot by a person

standing in front of him, seems to imply that that person's attitude was friendly, and that the victim had no

This was clear and logical reasoning, and I looked at the coroner in admiration, until I suddenly remembered

Parmalee's hateful suspicion and wondered if Coroner Monroe was preparing for an attack upon Miss Lloyd.

He was selfpossessed and even cool in his demeanor. There was a frank manner about him that pleased me,

I couldn't quite explain it to myself, but while he had an air of extreme straightforwardness, there was also an

indefinable effect of reserve. I couldn't help feeling that if this man had anything to conceal, he would be

But, as it turned out, he had nothing either to conceal or reveal, for he had been away from West Sedgwick

since six o'clock the night before, and knew nothing of the tragedy until he heard of it by telephone at Mr.

Crawford's New York office that morning about halfpast ten. This made him of no importance as a witness,

"No; I was to attend to the business today. But I often go to New York for several days at a time."

"As it has no bearing on the matter in hand, I prefer not to answer that rather personal question."

Mr. Monroe looked surprised in his turn, and said: "I think I must insist upon an answer, Mr. Hall, for it is

quite necessary that we learn the whereabouts of every member of this household last evening."

"I cannot agree with you, sir," said Gregory Hall, coolly; "my engagements for last evening were entirely

personal matters, in no way connected with Mr. Crawford's business. As I was not in West Sedgwick at the

time my late employer met his death, I cannot see that my private affairs need be called into question."

"Not at all so. I agree with Mr. Monroe, that Mr. Hall should frankly tell us where he spent last evening."

"And I refuse to do so," said Mr. Hall, speaking not angrily, but with great decision.

"Your refusal may tend to direct suspicion toward yourself, Mr. Hall," said the coroner.

Gregory Hall smiled slightly. "As I was out of town, your suggestion sounds a little absurd. However, I take

that risk, and absolutely refuse to answer any questions save those which relate to the matter in hand."

Coroner Monroe looked rather helplessly at his jurors, but as none of them said anything further, he turned

"The telephone message you received this morning, then, was the first knowledge you had of Mr. Crawford's

"I am sorry you resent personal questions, Mr. Hall, for I must ask you some. Are you engaged to Mr.

This answer was given in a low, quiet tone, apparently without emotion of any kind, but Miss Lloyd showed,

a different attitude. At the words of Gregory Hall, she blushed, dropped her eyes, fingered her handkerchief

nervously, and evinced just such embarrassment as might be expected from any young woman, in the event

of a public mention of her betrothal. And yet I had not looked for such an exhibition from Florence Lloyd.

Her very evident strength of character would seem to preclude the actions of an inexperienced debutante.

"With all due respect, Mr. Coroner," said Gregory Hall, in his subdued but firm way, "I cannot think these

questions are relevant or pertinent. Unless you can assure me that they are, I prefer not to reply."

"They are both relevant and pertinent to the matter in hand, Mr. Hall; but I am now of the opinion that they

would better be asked of another witness. You are excused. I now call Miss Florence Lloyd."

A stir was perceptible all through the room as Miss Lloyd acknowledged by a bow of her beautiful head the

The jurors looked at her with evident sympathy and admiration, and I remembered that as they were

fellowtownsmen and neighbors they probably knew the young woman well, and she was doubtless a friend

It seemed as if such social acquaintance must prejudice them in her favor, and perhaps render them incapable

of unbiased judgment, should her evidence be incriminating. But in my secret heart, I confess, I felt glad of

this. I was glad of anything that would keep even a shadow of suspicion away from this girl to whose

Nor was I the only one in the room who dreaded the mere thought of Miss Lloyd's connection with this

Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Porter were, I could see, greatly concerned lest some mistaken suspicion should

indicate any doubt of the girl. I could see by their kindly glances that she was a favorite, and was absolutely

Mr. Orville had not quite the same attitude. Though he looked at Miss Lloyd admiringly, I felt sure he was

alertly ready to pounce upon anything that might seem to connect her with a guilty knowledge of this crime.

Gregory Hall's attitude was inexplicable, and I concluded I had yet much to learn about that young man. He

looked at Miss Lloyd critically, and though his glance could not be called quite unsympathetic, yet it showed

no definite sympathy. He seemed to be coldly weighing her in his own mental balance, and he seemed to

await whatever she might be about to say with the impartial air of a disinterested judge. Though a stranger

myself, my heart ached for the young woman who was placed so suddenly in such a painful position, but

I felt sure this was not true, that he was not really so unconcerned as he appeared; but I could not guess why

Miss Lloyd had not risen as it was not required of her, and she sat expectant, but with no sign of nervousness.

Mrs. Pierce, her companion, was simply quivering with agitation. Now and again she would touch Miss

Lloyd's shoulder or hand, or whisper a word of encouragement, or perhaps wring her own hands in futile

Of course these demonstrations were of little avail, nor did it seem as if Florence Lloyd needed assistance or

She gave the impression not only of general capability in managing her own affairs, but of a special strength

And an emergency it was; for though the two beforementioned jurors, who had been intimate friends of her

uncle, were doubtless in sympathy with Miss Lloyd, and though the coroner was kindly disposed toward her,

yet the other jurors took little pains to conceal their suspicious attitude, and as for Mr. Parmalee, he was fairly

"Your name?" said the corner briefly, as if conquering his own sympathy by an unnecessarily formal tone.

"I am the niece of Mrs. Joseph Crawford, who died many years ago. Since her death I have lived with Mr.

Crawford, occupying in every respect the position of his daughter, though not legally adopted as such."

"More than kind. He was generous and indulgent, and, though not of an affectionate nature, he was always

Miss Lloyd hesitated. She showed no embarrassment, no trepidation; she merely seemed to be thinking.

Her gaze slowly wandered over the faces of the servants, Mrs. Pierce, Mr. Philip Crawford, the jurors, and,

lastly, dwelt for a moment on the now anxious, worried countenance of Gregory Hall.

Then she said slowly, but in an even, unemotional voice: "It was last night at dinner. After dinner was over,

"He was annoyed about one matter that has been annoying him for some time: that is, my engagement to Mr.

Apparently this was the answer the coroner had expected, for he nodded his head in a satisfied way.

The jurors, too, exchanged intelligent glances, and I realized that the acquaintances of the Crawfords were

"He did not approve of that engagement?" went on the coroner, though he seemed to be stating a fact, rather

"He did not," returned Miss Lloyd, and her color rose as she observed the intense interest manifest among her

Her cheeks were scarlet now, but a determined note had crept into her voice, and she looked at her betrothed

husband with an air of affectionate pride that, it seemed to me, ought to lift any man into the seventh heaven.

But I noted Mr. Hall's expression with surprise. Instead of gazing adoringly at this girl who was thus publicly

proving her devotion to him, he sat with eyes cast down, and frowning positively frowning while his

Surely this case required my closest attention, for I place far more confidence in deductions from facial

expression and tones of the voice, than from the discovery of small, inanimate objects.

And if I chose to deduce from facial expressions I had ample scope in the countenances of these two people.

I was particularly anxious not to jump at an unwarrantable conclusion, but the conviction was forced upon me

then and there that these two people knew more about the crime than they expected to tell. I certainly did not

suspect either of them to be touched with guilt, but I was equally sure that they were not ingenuous in their

While I knew that they were engaged, having heard it from both of them, I could not think that the course of

their love affair was running smoothly. I found myself drifting into idle speculation as to whether this

But though I could not quite understand these two, it gave me no trouble to know which I admired more. At

the moment, Miss Lloyd seemed to me to represent all that was beautiful, noble and charming in

womanhood, while Gregory Hall gave me the impression of a man crafty, selfish and undependable.

However, I fully realized that I was theorizing without sufficient data, and determinedly I brought my

"Mrs. Pierce was at the table with us, and the butler was in the room much of the time."

The purport of the coroner's question was obvious. Plainly he meant that she might as well tell the truth in the

Miss Lloyd deliberately looked at the two persons mentioned. Mrs. Pierce was trembling as with nervous

apprehension, but she looked steadily at Miss Lloyd, with eyes full of loyalty and devotion.

And yet Mrs. Pierce was a bit mysterious also. If I could read her face aright, it bore the expression of one

who would stand by her friend whatever might come. If she herself had had doubts of Florence Lloyd's

integrity, but was determined to suppress them and swear to a belief in her, she would look just as she did

On the other hand the butler, Lambert, who stood with folded arms, gazed straight ahead with an inscrutable

As I read it, Miss Lloyd knew, as she looked, that should she tell an untruth about that talk at the

dinnertable, Mrs. Pierce would repeat and corroborate her story; but Lambert would refute her, and would

state veraciously what his master had said. Clearly, it was useless to attempt a false report, and, with a little

sigh, Miss Lloyd seemed to resign herself to her fate, and calmly awaited the coroner's further questions.

But though still calm, she had lost her poise to some degree. The lack of responsive glances from Gregory

Hall's eyes seemed to perplex her. The eager interest of the six jurymen made her restless and embarrassed.

The coroner's abrupt questions frightened her, and I feared her selfenforced calm must sooner or later give

And now I noticed that Louis, the valet, was again darting those uncontrollable glances toward her. And as

the agitated Frenchman endeavored to control his own countenance, I chanced to observe that the

prettyfaced maid I had noticed before, was staring fixedly at Louis. Surely there were wheels within wheels,

and the complications of this matter were not to be solved by the simple questions of the coroner. But of

course this preliminary examination was necessary, and it was from this that I must learn the main story, and

"What was your uncle's response when you refused to break your engagement to Mr. Hall?" was the next

Again Miss Lloyd was silent for a moment, while she directed her gaze successively at several individuals.

This time she favored Mr. Randolph, who was Mr. Crawford's lawyer, and Philip Crawford, the dead man's

brother. After looking in turn at these two, and glancing for a moment at Philip Crawford's son, who sat by

"Yes; he has always told me I was to be sole heiress to his estate, except for some comparatively small

"The same as mine," she said. "We both regretted my uncle's protest, but we had no intention of letting it

Still Gregory Hall did not look at his fiancee. He sat motionless, preoccupied, and seemingly lost in deep

Whether his absence from Sedgwick at the time of the murder made him feel that he was in no way

implicated, and so the inquiry held no interest for him; or whether he was looking ahead and wondering

whither these vital questions were leading Florence Lloyd, I had no means of knowing. Certainly, he was a

"In effect, I suppose I did; but not in so many words. I always tried to urge him to see the matter in a different

"Well, then, he told me that he had no objection to Mr. Hall, personally. But he wished me to make what he

called a more brilliant alliance. He wanted me to marry a man of greater wealth and social position."

The scorn in Miss Lloyd's voice for her uncle's ambitions was so unmistakable that it made her whole answer

seem a compliment to Mr. Hall, rather than the reverse. It implied that the sterling worth of the young

secretary was far more to be desired than the riches and rank advocated by her uncle. This time Gregory Hall

looked at the speaker with a faint smile, that showed appreciation, if not adoration.

But I did not gather from his attitude that he did not adore his beautiful bridetobe; I only concluded that he

However, I couldn't help feeling that I had learned which of the two was more anxious for the engagement to

"In what way was your uncle more definite in his threat last night, than he had been heretofore?" the coroner

Miss Lloyd gave a little gasp, as if the question she had been dreading had come at last. She looked at the

inexorable face of the butler, she looked at Mr. Randolph, and then flashed a half timid glance at Hall, as

"He said that unless I promised to give up Mr. Hall, he would go last night to Mr. Randolph's and have a new

"Did he do so?" exclaimed Gregory Hall, an expression almost of fear appearing on his commonplace face.

Miss Lloyd looked at him, and seemed startled. Apparently his sudden question had surprised her.

Mr. Monroe paid no attention to Mr. Hall's remark, but said to Miss Lloyd, "He had made such threats before,

"Yes, but not with the same determination. He told me in so many words, I must choose between Mr. Hall or

"I made no direct answer. I had told him many times that I had no intention of breaking my engagement,

Mr. Orville was clearly delighted with the turn things were taking. He already scented a sensation, and he

This habit of his disgusted me, for surely the jurors on this preliminary inquest could come to their

I also resented the looks of admiration which Mr. Orville cast at the beautiful girl. It seemed to me that with

the exception of Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Porter, who were family friends, the jurors should have maintained a

"I am greatly surprised," he said, "that Mr. Crawford should take such a stand. He has often spoken to me of

you as his heiress, and to my knowledge, your engagement to Mr. Hall is not of immediately recent date."

"No," said Miss Lloyd, "but it is only recently that my uncle expressed his disapprobation so strongly; and

last night at dinner was the first time he positively stated his intention in regard to his will."

At this Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Porter conversed together in indignant whispers, and it was quite evident that

Mr. Philip Crawford looked astounded, and also dismayed, which surprised me, as I had understood that had

Mr. Randolph showed only a lawyerlike, noncommittal expression, and Gregory Hall, too, looked

The coroner grew more alert, as if he had discovered something of definite import, and asked eagerly

Miss Lloyd's cold calm had returned, and seemed to rebuke the coroner's excited interest.

"I do not know," she replied. "He went out after dinner, as I have told you, but I retired to my bedroom before

The words were spoken in a clear, even tone; but something made me doubt their truth. It was not the voice

or inflection; there was no hesitation or stammer, but a sudden and momentary droop of Miss Lloyd's eyelids

I wondered if Gregory Hall had the same thought, for he slowly raised his own eyes and looked at her

She did not look at him. Instead, she was staring at the butler. Either she had reason to fear his knowledge, or

I was fanciful. With an endeavor to shake off these shadows of suspicion, I chanced to look at Parmalee. To

my disgust, he was quite evidently gloating over the disclosures being made by the witness. I felt my anger

rise, and I determined then and there that if suspicion of guilt or complicity should by any chance unjustly

light on that brave and lovely girl, I would make the effort of my life to clear her from it.

"You did not come down again," the coroner went on pointedly, "to ask your uncle if he had changed his

"No, I did not," she replied, with such a ring of truth in her scornful voice, that my confidence returned, and I

She reflected a moment. "No, nor through the day. It chanced I had no occasion to go in there yesterday at

At these assertions of Miss Lloyd's, the Frenchman, Louis, looked greatly disturbed. He tried very hard to

conceal his agitation, but it was not at all difficult to read on his face an endeavor to look undisturbed at what

I hadn't a doubt, myself, that the man either knew something that would incriminate Miss Lloyd, or that they

I was surprised that no one else seemed to notice this, but the attention of every one in the room was

concentrated on the coroner and the witness, and so Louis's behavior passed unnoticed.

"It would seem," he said, "that this concludes Miss Lloyd's evidence in the matter. She has carried the

narrative up to the point where Mr. Joseph Crawford went out of his house after dinner. As she herself retired

to her room before his return, and did not again leave her room until this morning, she can have nothing

further to tell us bearing on the tragedy. And as it is doubtless a most painful experience for her, I trust, Mr.

"But wait a minute," Parmalee began, when Mr Hamilton interrupted him "Mr. Porter is quite right," he

said; "there is no reason why Miss Lloyd should be further troubled in this matter. I feel free to advise her

dismissal from the witness stand, because of my acquaintance and friendship with this household. Our

coroner and most of our jurors are strangers to Miss Lloyd, and perhaps cannot appreciate as I do the terrible

"You're right Hamilton," said Mr. Philip Crawford; "I was remiss not to think of it myself. Mr. Monroe, this

is not a formal inquest, and in the interest of kindness and humanity, I ask you to excuse Miss Lloyd from

I was surprised at the requests of these elderly gentlemen, for though it seemed to me that Miss Lloyd's

testimony was complete, yet it also seemed as if Gregory Hall were the one to show anxiety that she be

"I am quite willing to answer any further questions," she said; "I have answered all you have asked, and I

have told you frankly the truth. Though it is far from pleasant to have my individual affairs thus brought to

notice, I am quite ready to do anything to forward the cause of justice or to aid in any way the discovery of

"Thank you," said Mr. Monroe; " I quite appreciate the extreme unpleasantness of your position. But, Miss

Lloyd, there are a few more questions I must ask you. Pardon me if I repeat myself, but I ask you once more

if you did not come down to your uncle's office last evening after he had returned from his call on Mr.

As I watched Florence Lloyd I saw that her eyes did not turn toward the coroner, or toward her fiance, or

toward the jury, but she looked straight at Louis, the valet, as she replied in clear tones

"Is this yours?" asked Mr. Monroe, suddenly whisking into sight the goldmesh bag.

Probably his intent had been to startle her, and thus catch her off her guard. If so, he succeeded, for the girl

"Are you sure?" the coroner went on, a little more gently, doubtless moved by her agitation.

"Number six." She said this mechanically, as if thinking of something else, and her face was white.

"These are number six," said the coroner, as he took a pair of gloves from the bag. "Think again, Miss Lloyd.

"Because I was tired of it, and as it was a trifle worn, I had ceased to care to carry it."

"No; they are not real gold. At least, I mean mine was not. It was gilt over silver, and cost only about twelve

"What every woman carries in such a bag. Handkerchief, some small change, perhaps a vanitybox, gloves,

I admit that I did not believe her statements. Of course I could not be sure she was telling untruths, but her

sudden embarrassment at the first sight of the bag, and the way in which she regained her selfpossession,

Parmalee, who had come over and sat beside me, whispered: "Striking coincidence, isn't it?"

Although his sarcasm voiced my own thoughts, yet it irritated me horribly to hear him say it.

"But ninetynine women out of a hundred would experience the same coincidence," I returned.

At this moment Mrs. Pierce, whom I had suspected of feeling far deeper interest than she had so far shown,

"Of course that isn't Florence's bag," she said; "if Florence had gone to her uncle's office last evening, she

would have been wearing her dinner gown, and certainly would not carry a street bag."

"Is this a street bag?" inquired Mr. Monroe, looking with a masculine helplessness at the gilt bauble.

"Of course it is," said Mrs. Pierce, who now that she had found her voice, seemed anxious to talk. "Nobody

"But," began Parmalee, "such a thing might have occurred, if Miss Lloyd had had occasion to go to her

Personally I thought this an absurd suggestion, but Mr. Monroe seemed to take it seriously.

"That might be," he said, and I could see that momentarily the suspicions against Florence Lloyd were

As I noted the expressions, on the various faces, I observed that only Mr. Philip Crawford and the jurors

Hamilton and Porter seemed entirely in sympathy with the girl. The coroner, Parmalee, and even the lawyer,

Gregory Hall, who should have been the most sympathetic of all, seemed the most coldly indifferent, and as

for Mrs. Pierce, her actions were so erratic and uncertain, no one could tell what she thought.

"I'm positive it is not mine," returned Miss Lloyd, without undue emphasis, but with an air of dismissing the

Elsa came forward, the pretty, timid young girl, of German effects, whom I had already noticed.

"Have you ever seen this bag before?" asked the coroner, holding it up before her.

"This morning, sir. Lambert showed it to me, sir. He said he found it in Mr. Crawford's office."

The girl was very pale, and trembled pitiably. She seemed afraid of the coroner, of Lambert, of Miss Lloyd,

and of the jury. It might have been merely the unreasonable fear of an ignorant mind, but it had the

Especially did she seem afraid of the man, Louis. Though perhaps the distressed glances she cast at him were

The coroner spoke kindly to her, and really seemed to take more notice of her embarrassment, and make

"Don't you know? As her personal maid, you must be acquainted with her belongings."

But as this statement was made after a swift but noticeable glance of inquiry at her mistress, a slight distrust

Miss Lloyd looked up in surprise, and that look of surprise told against her. I could see Parmalee's eyes gleam

as he concluded in his own mind that the bag story was all false, was made up between mistress and maid,

and that the part about the departing cousin was an artistic touch added by Elsa.

The coroner, too, seemed inclined to disbelieve the present witness, and he sat thoughtfully snapping the

He turned again to Miss Lloyd. "Having given away your own bag," he said suavely, "you have perhaps

"Why, no, I haven't," said Florence Lloyd. "I have been intending to do so, and shall get one shortly, but I

"A goldmesh bag is not an indispensable article; I have several bags of other styles, and I'm in no especial

Miss Lloyd's manner had taken on several degrees of hauteur, and her voice was incisive in its tone. Clearly

she resented this discussion of her personal belongings, and as she entirely repudiated the ownership of the

"If this is not your bag, Miss Lloyd," he said, with some asperity, "how did it get on Mr. Crawford's desk late

last night? The butler has assured me it was not there when he looked in at a little after ten o'clock. Yet this

"I have not the slightest idea," said Miss Lloyd firmly; "but, I repeat, it is not mine."

"Easy enough to see the trend of Monroe's questions," said Parmalee in my ear. "If he can prove this bag to

be Miss Lloyd's, it shows that she was in the office after ten o'clock last night, and this she has denied."

"Indeed I don't. Of course she was there, and of course it's her bag. She put that pretty maid of hers up to

"Oh, pshaw! you think the same yourself, only you think it isn't chivalrous to put it into words."

Of course what annoyed me in Parmalee's speech was its inherent truth. I didn't believe Florence Lloyd.

Much as I wanted to, I couldn't; for the appearance, manner and words of both women were not such as to

If she and Elsa were in collusion to deny her ownership of the bag, it would be hard to prove the contrary, for

the menservants could not be supposed to know, and I had no doubt Mrs. Pierce would testify as Miss Lloyd

I was sorry not to put more confidence in the truth of the testimony I was hearing, but I am, perhaps, sceptical

by nature. And, too, if Florence Lloyd were in any way implicated in the death of her uncle, I felt pretty sure

Her marvellous magnetism attracted me strongly, but it did not blind me to the strength of her nature. While I

could not, as yet, believe her in any way implicated in the death of her uncle, I was fully convinced she knew

more concerning it than she had told and I knew, unless forced to, she would not tell what she desired to keep

My sympathy, of course, was with her, but my duty was plain. As a detective, I must investigate fairly, or

At this juncture, I knew the point at issue was the presence of Miss Lloyd in the office last night, and the two

At any rate it was my duty to investigate the point, so taking a card from my pocket I wrote upon it: "Find out

I passed this over to Mr. Monroe, and rather enjoyed seeing his mystification as he read it.

To my surprise he did not question Florence Lloyd immediately, but turned again to the maid.

"No, sir. She changed her evening gown for a teagown, and then said she would sit up for an hour or so and

"Ah, quite so. But did she, by chance, pin on any flowers after she went to her room?"

"Why, yes, sir; she did. A box of roses had come for her by a messenger, and when she found them in her

"While Miss Lloyd was at dinner, sir. I took them from the box and put them in water, sir."

The girl looked bewildered, and a little embarrassed as she returned to her place among the other servants,

But then, for that matter, no body understood the reason for the questions about the flowers, and though most

of the jury merely looked preternaturally wise on the subject, Mr. Orville scribbled it all down in his little

book. I was now glad to see the man keep up his indefatigable notetaking. If the reporters or stenographers

But from the industry with which he wrote, I began to think he must be composing an elaborate thesis on

Mr. Porter, looking greatly puzzled, observed to the coroner, "I have listened to your inquiries with interest;

and I would like to know what, if any, special importance is attached to this subject of yellow roses."

"I'm not able to tell you," replied Mr. Monroe. "I asked these questions at the instigation of another, who

Mr. Porter seemed satisfied with this, and I nodded my head at the coroner, as if bidding him to proceed.

But if I had been surprised before at the all but spoken intelligence which passed between the two servants,

Elsa and Louis, I was more amazed now. They shot rapid glances at each other, which were evidently full of

meaning to themselves. Elsa was deathly white, her lips trembled, and she looked at the Frenchman as if in

terror of her life. But though he glanced at her meaningly, now and then, Louis's anxiety seemed to me to be

"Do you corroborate," he was saying, "the statements of your maid about the flowers that were sent you last

"Mr. Hall," said, the coroner, turning toward the young man, "how could you send flowers to Miss Lloyd last

"Easily," was the cool reply. "I left Sedgwick on the six o'clock train. On my way to the station I stopped at a

florist's and ordered some roses sent to Miss Lloyd. If they did not arrive until she was at dinner, they were

"They were in my room when I event up there at about ten o'clock last evening," she replied, and her face

The coroner's face showed almost as much wonderment, and I said: "Perhaps, Mr. Monroe, I may ask a few

And thus it was, for the first time in my life, I directly addressed Florence Lloyd.

"When you went up to your room at ten o'clock, the flowers were there?" I asked, and I felt a mast

uncomfortable pounding at my heart because of the trap I was deliberately laying for her. But it had to be

done, and even as I spoke, I experienced a glad realization, that if she were innocent, my questions could do

"Yes," she repeated, and far the first time favored me with a look of interest. I doubt if she knew my name or

"Miss Lloyd, do you still persist in saying you did not go downstairs again, to your uncle's office?"

"I did not," she repeated, but she turned white, and her voice was scarce more than a whisper.

"Then," said I, " how did two petals of a yellow rose happen to be on the floor in the office this morning?"

If any one expected to see Miss Lloyd faint or collapse at this crisis he must have been disappointed, and as I

had confidently expected such a scene, I was completely surprised at her quick recovery of selfpossession.

For an instant she had seemed stunned by my question, and her eyes had wandered vaguely round the room,

Her glance returned to me, and in that instant I gave her an answering look, which, quite involuntarily on my

part, meant a grave and serious offer of my best and bravest efforts in her behalf. Disingenuous she might be,

untruthful she might be, yes, even a criminal she might be, but in any case I was her sworn ally forever. Not

that I meant to defeat the ends of justice, but I was ready to fight for her or with her, until justice should

defeat us. Of course she didn't know all this, though I couldn't help hoping she read a little of it as my eyes

looked into hers. If so, she recognized it only by a swift withdrawal of her own glance. Again she looked

Then her eyes rested on Gregory Hall, and, though he gave her no responsive glance, for some reason her

poise returned like a flash. It was as if she had been invigorated by a cold douche.

Determination fairly shone in her dark eyes, and her mouth showed a more decided line than I had yet seen in

"But I have learned from the servants that there were no other yellow roses in the house yesterday."

Miss Lloyd was not hesitant now. She replied quickly, and it was with an almost eager haste that she said

"Then I can only imagine that my uncle had some lady visitor in his office late last evening."

The girl's mood had changed utterly; her tone was almost flippant, and more than one of the jurors looked at

Mr. Porter, especially, cast an her a glance of fatherly solicitude, and I was sure that he felt, as I did, that the

"I don't think you quite mean that, Florence," he said; "you and I knew your uncle too well to say such

"It is not an impossible conjecture," said Philip Crawford thoughtfully. "If the bag does not belong to

Florence, what more probable than that it was left by its feminine owner? The same lady might have worn or

Perhaps it was because of my own desire to help her that these other men had joined their efforts to mine to

The coroner looked a little uncomfortable, for he began to note the tide of sympathy turning toward the

"Yellow roses do not necessarily imply a lady visitor," he said, rather more kindly. "A man in evening dress

To his evident surprise, as well as to my own, this remark, intended to be soothing, had quite the opposite

"That is not at all probable," said Miss Lloyd quite angrily. "Mr. Porter was in the office last evening; if he

"I was not," said Mr. Porter quietly, but looking amazed at the sudden outburst of the girl.

"Of course you weren't!" Miss Lloyd went on, still in the same excited way. "Men don't wear roses

nowadays, except perhaps at a ball; and, anyway, the gold bag surely implies that a woman was there!"

"It seems to," said Mr. Monroe; and then, unable longer to keep up her brave resistance, Florence Lloyd

Mrs. Pierce wrung her hands and moaned in a helpless fashion. Elsa started forward to attend her young

mistress, but it was the two neighbors who were jurors, Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Porter, who carried the

Gregory Hall looked concerned, but made no movement to aid, and I marvelled afresh at such strange actions

Several women in the audience hurried from the room, and in a few moments the two jurors returned.

"Miss Lloyd will soon be all right, I think," said Mr. Porter to the coroner. "My wife is with her, and one or

There was something about Mr. Lemuel Porter that made men accept his dictum, and without further remark

Mr. Monroe called the next witness, Mr. Roswell Randolph, and a tall man, with an intellectual face, came

While the coroner was putting the formal and preliminary questions to Mr. Randolph, Parmalee quietly drew

If this girl had fainted instead of Miss Lloyd, I should not have been surprised for she seemed on the very

verge of nervous collapse. She seemed, too, to be accusing the man of something, which he vigorously

denied. The girl interested me far more than the Frenchman. Though of the simple, rosycheeked type of

German, she had an air of canniness and subtlety that was at variance with her naive effect. I soon concluded

she was far more clever than mast people thought, and Parmalee's whispered words showed that he thought

"Something doing in the case of Dutch Elsa, eh?" he said; "she and Johnny Frenchy have cooked up

"Nothing of any importance, I fancy," I returned, for Miss Lloyd's swoon seemed to me a surrender, and I had

In answer to a few formal questions, he stated that he had been Mr. Crawford's legal adviser for many years,

"Except for some minor bequests, the bulk of his fortune was bequeathed to Miss Florence Lloyd."

It was by the merest chance that I was looking at Gregory Hall, as the lawyer gave this answer.

It required no fine perception to understand the look of relief and delight that fairly flooded his countenance.

To be sure, it was quickly suppressed, and his former mask of indifference and preoccupation assumed, but I

knew as well as if he had put it into words, that he had trembled lest Miss Lloyd had been disinherited before

This gave me many new thoughts, but before I could formulate them, I heard the coroner going an with his

"Yes; he was at my house for perhaps half an hour or mare between eight and nine o'clock."

"He did. That was his errand. He distinctly stated his intention of making a new will, and asked me to come

"It does," said Mr. Randolph, "and I am glad of it. Miss Lloyd has been brought up to look upon this

inheritance as her own, and while I would have used no undue emphasis, I should have tried to dissuade Mr.

"But before we consider the fortune or the will, we must proceed with our task of bringing to light the

"I trust you will do so, Mr. Coroner, and that speedily. But I may say, if allowable, that you are on the wrong

"As your opinion, Mr. Randolph, of course that sentiment has some weight, but as a man of law, yourself,

you must know that such an opinion must be proved before it can be really conclusive."

"Yes, of course," said Mr. Randolph, with a deep sigh. "But let me beg of you to look further in search of

other indications before you press too hard upon Miss Lloyd with the seeming clues you now have."

I liked Mr. Randolph very much. Indeed it seemed to me that the men of West Sedgwick were of a fine class

as to both intellect and judgment, and though Coroner Monroe was not a brilliant man, I began to realize that

he had some sterling qualities and was distinctly just and fair in his decisions.

As for Gregory Hall, he seemed like a man free from a great anxiety. Though still calm and reserved in

appearance, he was less nervous, and quietly awaited further developments. His attitude was not hard to

understand. Mr. Crawford had objected to his secretary's engagement to his niece, and now Mr. Crawford's

objections could no longer matter. Again, it was not surprising that Mr. Hall should be glad to learn that his

fiancee was the heiress she had supposed herself to he. Even though he were marrying the girl simply for love

of her, a large fortune in addition was by no means to be despised. At any rate, I concluded that Gregory Hall

As often happened, Parmalee read my thoughts. "A fortunehunter," he murmured, with a meaning glance at

I remembered that Mr. Carstairs, at the inn had said the same thing, and I thoroughly believed it myself.

"No," said Parmalee, "except his salary, which was a good one from Mr. Crawford, but of course he's lost that

"I don't feel drawn toward him. I suppose one would call him a gentleman and yet he isn't manly."

"He's a cad," declared Parmalee; "any fortune hunter is a cad, and I despise him."

Although I tried to hold my mind impartially open regarding Mr. Hall, I was conscious of an inclination to

despise him myself. But I was also honest enough to realize that my principal reason for despising him was

Clearly, the man was becoming more and more apprehensive, and really dreaded to go on with the

The gold bag still lay on the table before him; the yellow rose petals were not yet satisfactorily accounted for;

Miss Lloyd's agitation and sudden loss of consciousness, though not surprising in the circumstances, were a

point in her disfavor. And now the revelation that Mr. Crawford was actually on the point of disinheriting his

niece made it impossible to ignore the obvious connection between that fact and the event of the night.

Mechanically, Mr. Monroe called the next witness on his list, and Mrs. Pierce answered.

For some reason she chose to stand during her interview, and as she rose, I realized that she was a prim little

personage, but of such a decided nature that she might have been stigmatized by the term stubborn. I had seen

such women before; of a certain soft, outward effect, apparently pliable and amenable, but in reality, deep,

And yet she was not strong, far the situation in which she found herself made her trembling and unstrung.

When asked by the coroner to tell her own story of the events of the evening before, she begged that he

Desirous of making it as easy far her as possible, Mr. Monroe acceded to her wishes, and put his questions in

"Yes," was the almost inaudible reply, and Mrs. Pierce seemed about to break down at the sad recollection.

"You heard the argument between Mr. Crawford and his niece at the dinner table?"

"Well, I don't know exactly what you mean by high words. Mr. Crawford rarely lost his temper and Florence

"Mr. Crawford said clearly, but without recourse to what may be called high words, that unless Florence

"He did at first, when he was speaking more lightly; then when Florence refused to do as he wished he said

he would go that very evening to Mr. Randolph's and have a new will made which should disinherit Florence,

"She said," replied Mrs. Pierce, in her plaintive tones, "that her uncle might do as he chose about that; but she

Though he modestly dropped his eyes at this tacit tribute to his worthiness, yet he squared his shoulders, and

"Will the making of a new will by Mr. Crawfard affect yourself in any way, Mrs. Pierce?"

"No," she replied, "Mr. Crawford left me a small bequest in his earlier will and I had reason to think he would

do the same in a later will, even though he changed his intentions regarding Florence."

"Miss Lloyd thoroughly believed that he intended to carry out his threat last evening?"

"She didn't say so to me, but Mr. Crawford spoke so decidedly on the matter, that I think both she and I

"When Mr. Crawford left the house, did you and Miss Lloyd know where he was going?"

"We knew no more than he had said at the table. He said nothing when he went away."

"It was but a short evening. We sat in the musicroom for a time, but at about ten o'clock we both went up to

"Yes, he came in perhaps an hour earlier. We heard him come in at the front door, and go at once to his

"We did not. He had a caller during the evening. It was Mr. Porter, I have since learned."

"Did Miss Lloyd express no interest as to whether he had changed his will or not?"

"Miss Lloyd didn't mention the will, or her engagement, to me at all. We talked entirely of other matters."

"Was not this strange when she was fully expecting to be deprived of her entire fortune?"

"It was not strange for Miss Lloyd. She rarely talks of her own affairs. We spent an evening similar in all

"Only for a few moments. I was interested in the book I had come for, and I wanted to take it away to my

"And Miss Lloyd, then, did not seem dispirited Dr in any way in an unusual mood?"

"Not that I noticed. I wasn't quizzing her or looking into her eyes to see what her thoughts were, for it didn't

occur to me to do so. I knew her uncle had dealt her a severe blow, but as she didn't open the subject, of

course I couldn't discuss it with her. But I did think perhaps she wanted to be by herself to consider the

matter, and that was one reason why I didn't stay and chat as she had asked me to."

"Perhaps she did; but in that case she should have said so. Florence knows well enough that I am always

ready to discuss or sympathize with her in any matter, but I never obtrude my opinions. So as she said

nothing to lead me to think she wanted to talk to me especially, I said goodnight to her."

"Did you happen to notice, Mrs. Pierce, whether Miss Lloyd was wearing a yellow rose when you saw her in

Mrs. Pierce hesitated. She looked decidedly embarrassed, and seemed disinclined to answer. But she might

have known that to hesitate and show embarrassment was almost equivalent to an affirmative answer to the

This might have been a true statement, but I think no one in the room believed it. The coroner tried again.

"Try to think, Mrs. Pierce. It is important that we should know if Miss Lloyd was wearing a yellow rose."

"Yes," flared out Mrs. Pierce angrily, "so that you can prove she went down to her uncle's office later and

dropped a piece of her rose there! But I tell you I don't remember whether she was wearing a rose or not, and

it wouldn't matter if she had on forty roses! If Florence Lloyd says she didn't go downstairs, she didn't."

"I think we all believe in Miss Lloyd's veracity," said Mr. Monroe, "but it is necessary to discover where

those rose petals in the library came from. You saw the flowers in her room, Mrs. Pierce?"

"Yes, I believe I did. But I paid no attention to them, as Florence nearly always has flowers in her room."

"Would you have heard Miss Lloyd if she had gone downstairs after you left her?"

"Yes." Mrs. Pierce's answers became more hesitating as she saw the drift of Mr. Monroe's questions. Clearly,

she was trying to shield Florence, if necessary, at the expense of actual truthfulness.

"Then," went on Mr. Monroe, inexorably, "I understand you to say that you think you would have heard Miss

Lloyd, had she gone downstairs, although your room is at a distance and around a corner and the hall and

stairs are thickly carpeted. Unless you were listening especially, Mrs. Pierce, I think you would scarcely have

"Well, as she didn't go down,, of course I didn't hear her," snapped Mrs. Pierce, with the feminine way of

The coroner fairly jumped. He remembered the newspaper clipping of a cleaner's advertisement, which was

even now in the gold bag before him. Though all the jurors had seen it, it had not been referred to in the

Recovering himself at once, he said quietly "Was not that rather work for Miss Lloyd's maid?"

"Oh, Elsa would pack and send them, of course," said Mrs. Pierce carelessly. "Miss Lloyd was merely

Now, Carter Brown was the firm name on the advertisement, and it was evident at once that the coroner

He sat looking greatly troubled, but before he spoke again, Mr. Parmalee made an observation that decidedly

"Well," he said, "that's pretty good proof that the gold bag doesn't belong to Miss Lloyd."

"Why, if Miss Lloyd always sends her goods to be cleaned to Carter Brown, why would she need to cut their

At first I thought the young man's deduction distinctly clever, but on second thought I wasn't so sure. Miss

Lloyd might have wanted that address for a dozen good reasons. To my mind, it proved neither her ownership

In fact, I thought the most important indication that the bag might be hers lay in the story Elsa told about the

cousin who sailed to Germany. Somehow that sounded untrue to me, but I was more than willing to believe it

I longed for Fleming Stone, who, I felt sure, could learn from the bag and its contents the whole truth about

But I had been called to take charge of the case, and my pride forbade me to call on any one for help.

I had scorned deductions from inanimate objects, but I resolved to study that bag again, and study it more

minutely. Perhaps there were some threads or shreds caught in its meshes that might point to its owner. I

remembered a detective story I read once, in which the whole discovery of the criminal depended on

identifying a few dark blue woollen threads which were found in a small pool of candle grease on a veranda

roof. As it turned out, they were from the trouser knee of a man who had knelt there to open a window. The

patent absurdity of leaving threads from one's trouser knee, amused me very much, but the accommodating

criminals in fiction almost always leave threads or shreds behind them. And surely a goldmesh bag, with its

thousands of links would be a fine trap to catch some threads of evidence, however minute they might be.

Furthermore I decided to probe further into that yellow rose business. I was not at all sure that those petals I

found on the floor had anything to do with Miss Lloyd's roses, but it must be a question possible of

settlement, if I went about it in the right way. At any rate, though I had definite work ahead of me, my duty

just now was to listen to the forthcoming evidence, though I could not help thinking I could have put

Of course the coroner's inquest was not formally conducted as a trial by jury would be, and so any one spoke,

if he chose, and the coroner seemed really glad when suggestions were offered him.

"It is impossible," he said, "not to see whither these questions are tending. But you are on the wrong tack, Mr.

Coroner. No matter how evidence may seem to point toward Florence Lloyd's association with this crime, it

is only seeming. That gold bag might have been hers and it might not. But if she says it isn't, why, then it

isn't! Notwithstanding the state of affairs between my brother and his niece, there is not the shadow of a

possibility that the young woman is implicated in the slightest degree, and the sooner you leave her name out

of consideration, and turn your search into other channels, the sooner you will find the real criminal."

It was not so much the words of Philip Crawford, as the sincere way in which they were spoken, that

impressed me. Surely he was right; surely this beautiful girl was neither principal nor accessory in the awful

"Mr. Crawford's right," said Lemuel Porter. "If this jury allows itself to be misled by a gold purse and two

petals of a yellow rose, we are unworthy to sit on this case. Why, Mr. Coroner, the long French windows in

the office were open, or, at least, unfastened all through the night. We have that from the butler's testimony.

He didn't lock them last night; they were found unlocked this morning. Therefore, I hold that an intruder,

either man or woman, may have come in during the night, accomplished the fatal deed, and departed without

any one being the wiser. That this intruder was a woman, is evidenced by the bag she left behind her. For, as

Mr. Crawford has said, if Miss Lloyd denies the ownership of that bag, it is not hers."

After all, these declarations were proof, of a sort. If Mr. Porter and Mr. Philip Crawford, who had known

Florence Lloyd for years, spoke thus positively of her innocence, it could not be doubted.

"Of course Mr. Porter and Mr. Crawford would stand up for Miss Lloyd; it would be strange if they didn't.

And of course, Mrs. Pierce will do all she can to divert suspicion. But the evidences are against her."

"They only seem to be," I corrected. "Until we prove the gold bag and the yellow rose to be hers; there is no

"She also had motive and opportunity. Those two points are of quite as much importance as evidence."

"She had motive and opportunity," I agreed, "but they were not exclusive. As Mr. Porter pointed out, the

open windows gave opportunity that was world wide; and as to motive, how are we to know who had or who

"You're right, I suppose. Perhaps I am too positive of Miss Lloyd's implication in the matter, but I'm quite

The remarks of Mr. Parmalee were of course not audible to any one save myself. But the speeches which had

been made by Mr. Crawford and Mr. Porter, and which, strange to say, amounted to an arraignment and a

Mrs. Pierce began to weep silently. Gregory Hall looked startled, as if the mere idea of Miss Lloyd's

implication was a new thought to him. Lawyer Randolph looked considerably disturbed, and I at once

suspected that his legal mind would not allow him to place too much dependence on the statements of the

Mr. Hamilton, another of the jurors whom I liked, seemed to be thoughtfully weighing the evidence. He was

not so well acquainted with Miss Lloyd as the two men who had just spoken in her behalf, and he made a

"I agree," he said, "with the sentiments just expressed; but I also think that we should endeavor to find some

further clues or evidence. Had Mr. Crawford any enemies who would come at night to kill him? Or are there

"It does not seem so," replied the coroner. "Nothing is known to be missing. Mr. Crawford's watch and

"The absence of the weapon is a strange factor in the case," put in Mr. Orville, apparently desirous of having

"Yes," agreed Mr. Monroe; "and yet it is not strange that the criminal carried away with him what might have

Gregory Hall gave him an indignant look, but Coroner Monroe seemed rather glad to have the question raised

"No," replied Mrs. Pierce, when the query was put to her. "Both Florence and I are desperately afraid of

Of course, this was significant, but in no way decisive. Granting that Miss Lloyd could have been the

criminal, it would have been possible for her secretly to procure a revolver, and secretly to dispose of it

afterward. Then, too, a small revolver had been used. To be sure, this did not necessarily imply that a woman

had used it, but, taken in connection with the bag and the rose petals, it gave food for thought.

But the coroner seemed to think Mrs. Pierce's assertions greatly in Miss Lloyd's favor, and, being at the end

of his list of witnesses, he inquired if any one else in the room knew of anything that could throw light on the

No one responded to this invitation, and the coroner then directed the jury to retire to find a verdict. The six

men passed into another room, and I think no one who awaited their return apprehended any other result than

And this was what the foreman announced when the jury returned after their short collocation.

Then, as a jury, they were dismissed, but from that moment the mystery of Joseph Crawford's death became

"The murderer of my brother shall be found and brought to justice!" declared Philip Crawford, and all present

Then and there, Mr. Crawford retained Lawyer Randolph to help him in running down the villain, and,

To this, I readily agreed, for I greatly desired to go on with the matter, and cared little whether I worked for

Of course Mr. Crawford's determination to find the murderer proved anew his conviction that Florence Lloyd

was above all suspicion, but in the face of certain details of the evidence so far, I could not feel so absolutely

However, it was my business to follow up every clue, or apparent clue, and every bit of evidence, and this I

I confess it was difficult for me to feel regardless of consequences, for I had a haunting fear that the future

was going to look dark for Florence Lloyd. And if it should be proved that she was in any way responsible for

or accessory to this crime, I knew I should wish I had had nothing to do with discovering that fact. But back

of this was an undefined but insistent conviction that the girl was innocent, and that I could prove it. This

may have been an inordinate faith in my own powers, or it may have been a hope born of my admiration for

the young woman herself. For there is no doubt, that for the first time in my life I was taking a serious interest

in a woman's personality. Heretofore I had been a general admirer of womankind, and I had naturally treated

them all with chivalry and respect. But now I had met one whom I desired to treat in a far tenderer way, and

to my chagrin I realized that I had no right to entertain such thoughts toward a girl already betrothed.

So I concluded to try my best to leave Florence Lloyd's personality out of the question, to leave my feelings

toward her out of the question, and to devote my energies to real work on the case and prove by intelligent

effort that I could learn facts from evidence without resorting to the microscopic methods of Fleming Stone. I

purposely ignored the fact that I would have been only too glad to use these methods had I the power to do

For the next day or two the Crawford house presented the appearance usual in any home during the days

By tacit consent, all reference to the violence of Mr. Crawford's death was avoided, and a rigorous formality

was the keynote of all the ceremonies. The servants were garbed in correct mourning, the ladies of the house

refused to see anybody, and all personal callers were met by Philip Crawford or his wife, while business

As private secretary, of course Mr. Hall was in full charge of Mr. Crawford's papers and personal effects.

But, in addition to this, as the prospective husband of the heiress, he was practically the head of the house.

He showed no elation or ostentation at this state of affairs, but carried himself with an air of quiet dignity,

tinged with a suggestion of sadness, which, if merely conventional, seemed none the less sincere.

I soon learned that the whole social atmosphere of West Sedgwick was one of extreme formality, and

everything was done in accordance with the most approved conventions. Therefore, I found I could get no

I had, however, more or less talk with Gregory Hall, and as I became acquainted with him, I liked him less.

He was of a cold and calculating disposition, and when we were alone, he did not hesitate to gloat openly

"Terrible thing, to be put out of existence like that," he said, as we sat in Mr. Crawford's office, looking over

some papers; "but it solved a big problem for Florence and me. However, we'll be married as soon as we

"No, I haven't. Not the faintest notion. But I wish you could find out. Of course, nobody holds up that bag

business as against Florence, but it's uncomfortable all the same. I wish I'd been here that night. I'm 'most

Hall drew himself up stiffly. "Excuse me," he said. "I declined to answer that question before. Since I was not

"Oh, that's all right," I returned affably, for I had no desire to get his ill will. "But of course we detectives

have to ask questions. By the way, where did you buy Miss Lloyd's yellow roses?"

"See here," said Gregory Hall, with a petulant expression, "I don't want to be questioned. I'm not on the

witnessstand, and, as I've told you, I'm uncomfortable already about these socalled `clues' that seem to

I went away from the house, thinking how foolish people could be. I could easily discover where he bought

the roses, as there were only three florists' shops in West Sedgwick and I resolved to go at once to hunt up the

Assuming he would naturally go to the shop nearest the railroad station, and which was also on the way from

"Yes, sir," he said; "I sold those roses to Mr. Hall sold 'em to him myself. He wanted something extra nice,

and I had just a dozen of those big yellow beauties. No, I don't raise my own flowers. I get 'em from the city.

And so I had just that dozen, and I sent 'em right up. Well, there was some delay, for two of my boys were

"No, sir. Hadn't had for a week or more. Haven't any now. May not get any more at all. They're a scarce sort,

"Yes, sir; twelve. I like to put in an extra one or two when I can, but that time I couldn't. There wasn't another

I thanked the florist, and, guessing that he was not above it, I gave him a more material token of my gratitude

Since there were no other roses of that sort in West Sedgwick that evening, it seemed to me as if Florence

Lloyd must have gone down to her uncle's office after having pinned the blossom on her bodice. The only

other possibility was that some intruder had entered by way of the French window wearing or carrying a

similar flower, and that this intruder had come from New York, or at least from some place other than West

Sedgwick. It was too absurd. Murderers don't go about decked with flowers, and yet at midnight a man in

evening dress was not impossible, and evening dress might easily imply a boutonniere.

Well, this welldressed man I had conjured up in my mind must have come from out of town, or else whence

And then I bethought myself of that late newspaper. An extra, printed probably as late as eleven o'clock at

night, must have been brought out to West Sedgwick by a traveller on some late train. Why not Gregory Hall,

himself? I let my imagination run riot for a minute. Mr. Hall refused to say where he was on the night of the

murder. Why not assume that he had come out from New York, in evening dress, at or about midnight? This

would account for the newspaper and the yellow rose petals, for, if he bought a boutonniere in the city, how

I rather fancied the idea of Gregory Hall as the criminal. He had the same motive as Miss Lloyd. He knew of

her uncle's objection to their union, and his threat of disinheritance. How easy for him to come out late from

New York, on a night when he was not expected, and remove forever the obstacle to his future happiness!

I drew myself up with a start. This was not detective work. This was mere idle speculation. I must shake it

But the thought still clung to me; mere speculation it might be, but it was founded on the same facts that

already threw suspicion on Florence Lloyd. With the exception of the gold bag and that she disclaimed

such evidence as I knew of pointed toward Mr. Hall as well as toward Miss Lloyd.

However at present I was on the trail of those roses, and I determined to follow that trail to a definite end. I

went back to the Crawford house and as I did not like to ask for Miss Lloyd, I asked for Mrs. Pierce.

She came down to the drawing room, and greeted me rather more cordially than I had dared to hope. I had a

feeling that both ladies resented my presence there, for so many women have a prejudice against detectives.

"Yes, I do, Mrs. Pierce," I replied; "I may as well tell you frankly that I want to find out all I can about those

"Oh, those roses! Shall I never hear the last of them? I assure you, Mr. Burroughs, they're of no importance

"That is not for you to decide," I said quietly, and I began to see that perhaps a dictatorial attitude might be

the best way to manage this lady. "Are the rest of those flowers still in Miss Lloyd's room? If so I wish to see

"I don't know whether they are or not; but I will find out, and if so I'll bring them down."

Mrs. Pierce went away, and I began to wonder if I had gone too far or had overstepped my authority. But it

was surely my duty to learn all I could about Florence Lloyd, and what so promising of suggestions as her

Mrs. Pierce returned in a few moments, and affably enough she asked me to accompany her to Miss Lloyd's

I did so, and after entering devoted my whole attention to the bunch of yellow roses, which in a glass vase

stood on the window seat. Although somewhat wilted, they were still beautiful, and without the slightest

Acting upon a sudden thought, I counted them. There were nine, each one seemingly with its full complement

"Now, Mrs. Pierce," I said, turning to her with an air of authority which was becoming difficult to maintain,

"Mercy! I don't know," exclaimed Mrs. Pierce, looking bewildered. "I suppose she threw them away."

"I suppose she did," I returned; "would she not be likely to throw them in the waste basket?"

"She might," returned Mrs. Pierce, turning toward an ornate affair of wickerwork and pink ribbons.

Sure enough, in the basket, among a few scraps of paper, were two exceedingly withered yellow roses. I

picked them out and examined them, but in their present state it was impossible to tell whether they had lost

Mrs. Pierce seemed to care nothing for evidence or deduction in the matter, but began to lament the

carelessness of the chambermaid who had not emptied the waste basket the day before.

But I secretly blessed the delinquent servant, and began pondering on this new development of the rose

question. The nine roses in the vase and the two in the basket made but eleven, and the florist had told me

The thought occurred to me that Miss Lloyd might have put away one as a sentimental souvenir, but to my

mind she did not seem the kind of a girl to do that. I knew my reasoning was absurd, for what man can

predicate what a woman will do? but at the same time I could not seem to imagine the statuesque, imperial

But might not Gregory Hall have taken one of the dozen for himself before sending the rest? This was merely

surmise, but it was a possibility, and at any rate the twelfth rose was not in Miss Lloyd's room.

Therefore the twelfth rose was a factor to be reckoned with, a bit of evidence to be found; and I determined to

I asked Mrs. Pierce to arrange for me an interview with Miss Lloyd, but the elder lady seemed doubtful.

"I'm quite sure she won't see you," she said, "for she has declared she will see no one until after the funeral.

"Very well," I said, surprised at her willingness; "please ask Miss Lloyd if she knows what became of the

twelfth yellow rose; and beg her to appreciate the fact that it is a vital point in the case."

Mrs. Pierce agreed to do this, and as I went down the stairs she promised to join me in the library a few

"Miss Lloyd bids me tell you," she said, "that she knows nothing of what you call the twelfth rose. She did

not count the roses, she merely took two of them to pin on her dress, and when she retired, she carelessly

threw those two in the waste basket. She thinks it probable there were only eleven in the box when it arrived.

I thanked Mrs. Pierce for her courtesy and patience, and feeling that I now had a real problem to consider, I

It could not be that this rose matter was of no importance. For the florist had assured me he had sold exactly

twelve flowers to Mr. Gregory Hall, and of these, I could account for only eleven. The twelfth rose must have

been separated from the others, either by Mr. Hall, at the time of purchase, or by some one else later. If the

petals found on the floor fell from that twelfth rose, and if Florence Lloyd spoke the truth when she declared

But until I could make some further effort to find out about the missing rose I concluded to say nothing of it

to anybody. I was not bound to tell Parmalee any points I might discover, for though colleagues, we were

But as I was anxious to gather any side lights possible, I determined to go for a short conference with the

district attorney, in whose hands the case had been put after the coroner's inquest.

He was a man named Goodrich, a quiet mannered, untalkative person, and as might be expected he had made

He said nothing could be done until after the funeral and the reading of the will, which ceremonies would

I talked but little to Mr. Goodrich, yet I soon discovered that he strongly suspected Miss Lloyd of the crime,

"But I can't believe it," I objected. "A girl, delicately brought up, in refined and luxurious surroundings, does

"A woman thwarted in her love affair will do almost anything," declared Mr. Goodrich. "I have had more

experience than you, my boy, and I advise you not to bank too much on the refined and luxurious

surroundings. Sometimes such things foster crime instead of preventing it. But the truth will come out, and

soon, I think. The evidence that seems to point to Miss Lloyd can be easily proved or disproved, once we get

at the work in earnest. That coroner's jury was made up of men who were friends and neighbors of Mr.

Crawford. They were so prejudiced by sympathy for Miss Lloyd, and indignation at the unknown criminal,

that they couldn't give unbiased judgment. But we will yet see justice done. If Miss Lloyd is innocent, we can

prove it. But remember the provocation she was under. Remember the opportunity she had, to visit her uncle

alone in his office, after every one else in the house was asleep. Remember that she had a motive a strong

"Yes; I grant he had the same motive. But he is known to have left town at six that evening, and did not

"Nonsense!" said Mr. Goodrich. "That's fanciful. Why, the latest train the theatre train, as we call it gets

in at one o'clock, and it's always full of our society people returning from gayeties in New York. He would

I didn't stay to discuss the matter further. Indeed, Mr. Goodrich had made me feel that my theories were

Remembering my determination to examine that gold bag more thoroughly I asked Mr. Goodrich to let me

He gave it to me with an approving nod. "That's the way to work," he said. "That bag is your evidence. Now

"It's Miss Lloyd's bag," he said gravely. "Any woman in the world would deny its ownership, in the existing

circumstances, and I am not surprised that she did so. Nor do I blame her for doing so. Self preservation is a

mighty strong impulse in the human heart, and we've all got a right to obey it."

As I took the gold bag from his hand, I didn't in the least believe that Florence Lloyd was the owner of it, and

Mr. Goodrich turned away and busied himself about other matters, and I devoted myself to deep study.

The contents of the bag proved as blank and unsuggestive as ever. The most exhaustive examination of its

chain, its clasp and its thousands of links gave me not the tiniest thread or shred of any sort.

But as I poked and pried around in its lining I found a card, which had slipped between the main lining and an

I drew it out as carefully as I could, and it proved to be a small plain visiting card bearing the engraved name,

I sat staring at it, and then furtively glanced at Mr. Goodrich. He was not observing me, and I instinctively

felt that I did not wish him to know of the card until I myself had given the matter further thought.

I returned the card to its hiding place and returned the bag to Mr. Goodrich, after which I went away.

I had not copied the name, for it was indelibly photographed upon my brain. As I walked along the street I

tried to construct the personality of Mrs. Egerton Purvis from her card. But I was able to make no rational

deductions, except that the name sounded aristocratic, and was quite in keeping with the general effect of the

To be sure I might have deduced that she was a lady of average height and size, because she wore a number

six glove; that she was careful of her personal appearance, because she possessed a vanity case; that she was

of tidy habits, because she evidently expected to send her gowns to be cleaned. But all these things seemed to

me puerile and even ridiculous, as such characteristics would apply to thousands of woman all over the

Instead of this, I went straight to the telegraph office and wired to headquarters in a cipher code. I instructed

them to learn the identity and whereabouts of Mrs. Egerton Purvis, and advise me as soon as possible.

Then I returned to the Sedgwick Arms, feeling decidedly well satisfied with my morning's work, and content

to wait until after Mr. Crawford's funeral to do any further real work in the matter.

I went to the Crawford house on the day of the funeral; but as I reached there somewhat earlier than the hour

appointed, I went into the office with the idea of looking about for further clues.

"I can't find Mr. Crawford's will," he said, as he successively looked through one drawer after another.

"No; it's this way: I didn't see it here in this office, or in the New York office, so I assumed Mr. Randolph had

it in his possession. But it seems he thought it was here, all the time. Only this morning we discovered our

mutual error, and Mr. Randolph concluded it must be in Mr. Crawford's safety deposit box at the bank in

New York. So Mr. Philip Crawford hurried through his administration papers he is to be executor of the

estate and went in to get it from the bank. But he has just returned with the word that it wasn't there. So

"Oh, well," said I, "since he hadn't yet made the new will he had in mind, everything belongs to Miss Lloyd."

"That's just the point," said Hall, his face taking on a despairing look. "If we don't find that will, she gets

"Why, she's really not related to the Crawfords. She's a niece of Joseph Crawford's wife. So in the absence of

"Oh, yes, I'm sure of it," returned Hall, but his anxious face showed anything but confidence in his own

"But," I went on, "didn't Philip Crawford object to his brother's giving all his fortune to Miss Lloyd?"

It didn't matter if he did. Nobody could move Joseph Crawford's determination. And I fancy Philip didn't

make any great disturbance about it. Of course, Mr. Joseph had a right to do as he chose with his own, and

the will gave Philip a nice little sum, any way. Not much, compared to the whole fortune, but, still, a

"Why, no; who would steal it? I only fear he may have destroyed it because he expected to make a different

one. In that case, Florence is penniless, save for such bounty as Philip Crawford chooses to bestow on her."

I didn't like the tone in which Hall said this. It was distinctly aggrieved, and gave the impression that

Florence Lloyd, penniless, was of far less importance than Miss Lloyd, the heiress of her uncle's millions.

"Oh, yes, properly. But she would find herself in a very different position, dependent on his generosity, from

I looked steadily at the man. Although not well acquainted with him, I couldn't resist giving expression to my

"But since you are to marry her," I said, "she need not long be dependent upon her uncle's charity."

"Philip Crawford isn't really her uncle, and no one can say what he will do in the matter."

Gregory Hall was evidently greatly disturbed at the new situation brought about by the disappearance of Mr.

Crawford's will. But apparently the main reason for his disturbance was the impending poverty of his fiancee.

There was no doubt that Mr. Carstairs and others who had called this man a fortunehunter had judged him

However, without further words on the subject, I waited while Hall locked the door of the office, and then we

went together to the great drawingroom, where the funeral services were about to take place.

I purposely selected a position from which I could see the faces of the group of people most nearly connected

with the dead man. I had a strange feeling, as I looked at them, that one of them might be the instrument of

During the services I looked closely and in turn at each face, but beyond the natural emotions of grief which

The brother, Philip Crawford, the near neighbors, Mr. Porter and Mr. Hamilton, the lawyer, Mr. Randolph, all

sat looking grave and solemn as they heard the last words spoken above their dead friend. The ladies of the

household, quietly controlling their emotions, sat near me, and next to Florence Lloyd Gregory Hall had

All of these people I watched closely, half hoping that some inadvertent sign might tell me of someone's

knowledge of the secret. But when the clergyman referred to the retribution that would sooner or later

overtake the criminal. I could see an expression of fear or apprehension on no face save that of Florence

Lloyd. She turned even whiter than before, her pale lips compressed in a straight line, and her small black

gloved hand softly crept into that of Gregory Hall. The movement was not generally noticeable, but it seemed

to me pathetic above all things. Whatever her position in the matter, she was surely appealing to him for help

Without directly repulsing her, Hall was far from responsive. He allowed her hand to rest in his own but gave

her no answering pressure, and looked distinctly relieved when, after a moment, she withdrew it.

I saw that Parmalee also had observed this, and I could see that to him it was an indication of the girl's

perturbed spirit. To me it seemed that it might equally well mean many other things. For instance it might

mean her apprehension for Gregory Hall, who, I couldn't help thinking was far more likely to be a wrongdoer

With a little sigh I gave up trying to glean much information from the present opportunity, and contented

myself with the melancholy pleasure it gave me simply to look at the sad sweet face of the girl who was

After the solemn and rather elaborate obsequies were over, a little assembly gathered in the library to hear the

As, until then, no one had known of the disappearance of the will, except the lawyer and the secretary, it

"I have no explanation to offer," said Mr. Randolph, looking greatly concerned, but free of all personal

responsibility. "Mr. Crawford always kept the will in his own possession. When he came to see me, the last

evening he was alive, in regard to making a new will, he did not bring the old one with him. We arranged to

meet in his office the next morning to draw up the new instrument, when he doubtless expected to destroy the

He may have destroyed it on his return home that evening. I do not know. But so far it has not been found

among his papers in either of his offices or in the bank. Of course it may appear, as the search, though

thorough, has not yet been exhaustive. We will, therefore, hold the matter in abeyance a few days, hoping to

His hearers were variously affected by this news. Florence Lloyd was simply dazed. She could not seem to

grasp a situation which so suddenly changed her prospects. For she well knew that in the event of no will

being found, Joseph Crawford's brother would be his rightful heir, and she would be legally entitled to

Philip Crawford sat with an utterly expressionless face. Quite able to control his emotion, if he felt any, he

made no sign that he welcomed this possibility of a great fortune unexpectedly coming to him.

Lemuel Porter, who, with his wife, had remained because of their close friendship with the family, spoke out

"Find it! Of course it must be found! It's absurd to think the man destroyed one will before the other was

"Joseph was very methodical in his habits, and, besides, I doubt if he would really have changed his will. I

think he merely threatened it, to see if Florence persisted in keeping her engagement."

This was a generous speech on the part of Philip Crawford. To be sure, generosity of speech couldn't affect

the disposal of the estate. If no will were found, it must by law go to the brother, but none the less the hearty,

wholesouled way in which he spoke of Miss Lloyd was greatly to his credit as a man.

"I think so, too," agreed Mr. Porter. "As you know, I called on Mr. Joseph Crawford during the the last

The speaker paused, and indeed it must have been a sad remembrance that pictured itself to his mind.

"Did he then refer to the matter of the will?" asked Mr. Randolph, in gentle tones.

"He did. Little was said on the subject, but he told me that unless Florence consented to his wishes in the

matter of her engagement to Mr. Hall, he would make a new will, leaving her only a small bequest."

"I didn't presume to advise him definitely, but I urged him not to be too hard on the girl, and, at any rate, not

"Nothing of any definite import. He began talking of other matters, and the will was not again referred to. But

At this, Miss Lloyd seemed about to speak, but, glancing at Gregory Hall, she gave a little sigh, and remained

"You know of nothing that can throw any light on the matter of the will, Mr. Hall?" asked Mr. Randolph.

"No, sir. Of course this whole situation is very embarrassing for me. I can only say that I have known for a

long time the terms of Mr. Crawford's existing will; I have known of his threats of changing it; I have known

of his attitude toward my engagement to his niece. But I never spoke to him on any of these subjects, nor he

to me, though several times I have thought he was on the point of doing so. I have had access to most of his

private papers, but of two or three small boxes he always retained the keys. I had no curiosity concerning the

contents of these boxes, but I naturally assumed his will was in one of them. I have, however, opened these

boxes since Mr. Crawford's death, in company with Mr. Randolph, and we found no will. Nor could we

discover any in the New York office or in the bank. That is all I know of the matter."

Gregory Hall's demeanor was dignified and calm, his voice even and, indeed, cold. He was like a bystander,

Knowing, as I did, that his interest was vital, I came to the conclusion that he was a man of unusual

selfcontrol, and an ability to mask his real feelings completely. Feeling that nothing more could be learned

at present, I left the group in the library discussing the loss of the will, and went down to the district

He was, of course, surprised at my news, and agreed with me that it gave us new fields for conjecture.

"Now, we see," he said eagerly, "that the motive for the murder was the theft of the will."

"Not necessarily," I replied. "Mr. Crawford may have destroyed the will before he met his death."

"But that would leave no motive. No, the will supplies the motive. Now, you see, this frees Miss Lloyd from

suspicion. She would have no reason to kill her uncle and then destroy or suppress a will in her own favor."

"That reasoning also frees Mr. Hall from suspicion," said I, reverting to my former theories.

"Yes, it does. We must look for the one who has benefited by the removal of the will. That, of course, would

"My dear Mr. Goodrich," I said, "don't be absurd! A man would hardly shoot his own brother, but aside from

that, why should Philip Crawford kill Joseph just at the moment he is about to make a new will in Philip's

favor? Either the destruction of the old will or the drawing of the new would result in Philip's falling heir to

the fortune. So he would hardly precipitate matters by a criminal act. And, too, if he had been keen about the

money, he could have urged his brother to disinherit Florence Lloyd, and Joseph would have willingly done

"That's true," said Mr. Goodrich, looking chagrined but unconvinced. "However, it frees Miss Lloyd from all

doubts, by removing her motive. As you say, she wouldn't suppress a will in her favor, and thereby turn the

fortune over to Philip. And, as you also said, this lets Gregory Hall out, too, though I never suspected him for

"Wait a moment," I said, for new thoughts were rapidly following one another through my brain. "Not so fast,

Mr. District Attorney. The disappearance of the will does not remove motive from the possibility of Miss

"Because, if Florence Lloyd thought her uncle was in possession of that will, her motive was identically the

same as if he had possessed it. Now, she certainly thought he had it, for her surprise at the news of its loss

was as unfeigned as my own. And of course Hall thought the will was among Mr. Crawford's effects, for he

"But I thought that yesterday you were so sure of Miss Lloyd's innocence," objected Mr. Goodrich.

"I was," I said slowly, "and I think I am still. But in the light of absolute evidence I am only declaring that the

nonappearance of that will in no way interferes with the motive Miss Lloyd must have had if she is in any

way guilty. She knew, or thought she knew, that the will was there, in her favor. She knew her uncle intended

to revoke it and make another in her disfavor. I do not accuse her I'm not sure I suspect her I only say she

As I walked away from Mr. Goodrich's office, those words rang in my mind, motive and opportunity. Truly

they applied to Mr. Hall as well as to Miss Lloyd, although of course it would mean Hall's coming out from

the city and returning during the night. And though this might have been a difficult thing to do secretly, it was

by no means impossible. He might not have come all the way to West Sedgwick Station, but might have

dropped off the train earlier and taken the trolley. The trolley! that thought reminded me of the transfer I had

picked up on the grass plot near the office veranda. Was it possible that slip of paper was a clue, and pointing

Without definite hope of seeing Gregory Hall, but hopeful of learning something about him, I strolled back to

the Crawford house. I went directly to the office, and by good luck found Gregory Hall there alone. He was

"Ah, Mr. Burroughs," he said, as I entered, "I'm glad to see you. If detectives detect, you have a fine chance

here to do a bit of good work. I wouldn't mind offering you an honorarium myself, if you could unearth the

Hall's whole manner had changed. He had laid aside entirely the grave demeanor which he had shown at the

funeral, and was again the alert business man. He was more than this. He was eager, offensively so, in his

search for the will. It needed no detective instinct to see that the fortune of Joseph Crawford and its

But though his personal feelings on the subject might be distasteful to me, it was certainly part of my duty to

aid in the search, and so with him I looked through the various drawers and filing cabinets. The papers

representing or connected with the financial interests of the late millionaire were neatly filed and labelled; but

in some parts of the desk we found the hodgepodge of personal odds and ends which accumulates with

Hall seemed little interested in those, but to my mind they showed a possibility of casting some light on Mr.

But among old letters, photographs, programs, newspaper clippings, and such things, there was nothing that

seemed of the slightest interest, until at last I chanced upon a photograph that arrested my attention.

"No," returned Hall, with a careless glance at it; "a friend of Mr. Crawford's, I suppose."

"More than a friend, I should judge," and I turned the back of the picture toward him. Across it was written,

"with loving Christmas greetings, from M.S.P."; and it was dated as recently as the Christmas previous.

"Well," said Hall, "Mr. Crawford may have had a lady friend who cared enough about him to send an

affectionate greeting, but I never heard of her before, and I doubt if she is in any way responsible for the

He went on searching through the desks, giving no serious heed to the photograph. But to me it seemed

important. I alone knew of the visiting card in the gold bag. I alone knew that that bag belonged to a lady

named Purvis. And here was a photograph initialed by a lady whose surname began with P, and who was

unmistakably on affectionate terms with Mr. Crawford. To my mind the links began to form a chain; the lady

who had sent her photograph at Christmas, and who had left her gold bag in Mr. Crawford's office the night

But I had not yet had a reply to my telegram to headquarters, so I said nothing to Hall on this subject, and

putting the photograph in my pocket continued to assist him to look for the will, but without success.

However, the discovery of the photograph had in a measure diverted my suspicions from Gregory Hall; and

though I endeavored to draw him into general conversation, I did not ask him any definite questions about

But the more I talked with him, the more I disliked him: He not only showed a mercenary, fortunehunting

spirit, but he showed himself in many ways devoid of the finer feelings and chivalrous nature that ought to

belong to the man about to marry such a perfect flower of womanhood as Florence Lloyd.

After spending an evening in thinking over the situation and piecing together my clues, I decided that the next

thing to be done was to trace up that transfer. If I could fasten that upon Gregory Hall, it would indeed be a

starting point to work from. Although this seemed to eliminate Mrs. Purvis, who had already become a living

entity in my mind, I still had haunting suspicions of Hall; and then, too, there was a possibility of collusion

between these two. It might be fanciful, but if Hall and the Purvis woman were both implicated, Hall was

I learned without difficulty that the transfer I had found, must have been given to some passenger the night of

Mr. Crawford's death, but was not used. It had been issued after nine o'clock in the evening, somewhere on

the line between New York and West Sedgwick. It was a transfer which entitled a passenger on that line to a

trip on the branch line running through West Sedgwick, and the fact that it had not been used, implied either a

negligent conductor or a decision on the part of the passenger not to take his intended ride.

All this was plausible, though a far from definite indication that Hall might have come out from New York by

trolley, or part way by trolley, and though accepting a transfer on the West Sedgwick branch, had concluded

not to use it. But the whole theory pointed equally as well to Mrs. Purvis, or indeed to the unknown intruder

insisted upon by so many. I endeavored to learn something from certain conductors who brought their cars

into West Sedgwick late at night, but it seemed they carried a great many passengers and of course could not

Without much hope I interviewed the conductors of the West Sedgwick Branch Line. Though I could learn

nothing definite, I fell into conversation with one of them, a young Irishman, who was interested because of

"No, sir," he said, "I can't tell you anythin' about a stray transfer. But one thing I can tell you. That 'ere

"Well, that 'ere parlyvoo vally of Mr. Crawford's, he's rid, on my car 'most every Toosday night fer weeks

and weeks. It's his night off. And last Toosday night he didn't ride with me. Now I don't know's that means

It didn't seem to me that it meant much, for certainly Louis was not under the slightest suspicion. And yet as I

came to think about it, if that had been Louis's transfer and if he had dropped it near the office veranda, he

had lied when he said that he went round the other side of the house to reach the back entrance.

It was all very vague, but it narrowed itself down to the point that if that were Louis's transfer it could be

proved; and if not it must be investigated further. For a trolley transfer, issued at a definite hour, and dropped

I proceeded to the Crawford house, and though I intended to have a talk with Louis later, I asked first for

Miss Lloyd. Surely, if I were to carry on my investigation of the case, in her interests, I must have a talk with

her. I had not intruded before, but now that the funeral was over, the real work of tracking the criminal must

be commenced, and as one of the principal characters in the sad drama, Miss Lloyd must play her part.

Until I found myself in her presence I had not actually realized how much I wanted this interview.

I was sure that what she said, her manner and her facial expression, must either blot out or strengthen

"Miss Lloyd," I began, "I am, as you know, a detective; and I am here in Sedgwick for the purpose of

discovering the cowardly assassin of your uncle. I assume that you wish to aid me in any way you can. Am I

Instead of the unhesitating affirmative I had expected, the girl spoke irresolutely. "Yes," she said, "but I fear I

The fact that this reply did not sound to me as a rebuff, for which it was doubtless intended, I can only

Instead of funereal black, Miss Lloyd was clad all in white, and her simple wool gown gave her a statuesque

appearance; which, however, was contradicted by the pathetic weariness in her face and the sad droop of her

lovely mouth. Her helplessness appealed to me, and, though she assumed an air of composure, I well knew it

Resolving to make it as easy as possible for her, I did not ask her to repeat the main facts, which I already

"Then, Miss Lloyd," I said, in response to her disclaimer, "if you cannot help me, perhaps I can help you. I

have reason to think that possibly Louis, your late uncle's valet, did not tell the truth in his testimony at the

coroner's inquest. I have reason to think that instead of going around the house to the back entrance as he

To my surprise this information affected Miss Lloyd much more seriously than I supposed it would.

"What?" she said, and her voice was a frightened whisper. "What time did he come home?"

"I don't know," I replied; "but you surely don't suspect Louis of anything wrong. I was merely hoping, that if

he did pass the office he might have looked in, and so could tell us of your uncle's wellbeing at that time."

"At whatever time he returned home. Presumably rather late. But since you are interested in the matter, will

The girl fairly shuddered at this suggestion. She hesitated, and for a moment was unable to speak. Of course

this behavior on her part filled my soul with awful apprehension. Could it be possible that she and Louis were

in collusion, and that she dreaded the Frenchman's disclosures? I remembered the strange looks he had cast at

her while being questioned by the coroner. I remembered his vehement denial of having passed the office that

evening, too vehement, it now seemed to me. However, if I were to learn anything damaging to Florence

Lloyd's integrity, I would rather learn it now, in her presence, than elsewhere. So I again asked her to send for

With a despairing look, as of one forced to meet an impending fate, she rose, crossed the room and rang a

bell. Then she returned to her seat and said quietly, "You may ask the man such questions as you wish, Mr.

"Not unless it should be necessary," I replied coldly, for I did not at all like her making this stipulation. To

me it savored of a sort of cowardice, or at least a presumption on my own chivalry.

When the man appeared, I saw at a glance he was quite as much agitated as Miss Lloyd. There was no longer

a possibility of a doubt that these two knew something, had some secret in common, which bore directly on

the case, and which must be exposed. A sudden hope flashed into my mind that it might be only some trifling

secret, which seemed of importance to them, but which was merely a side issue of the great question.

I considered myself justified in taking advantage of the man's perturbation, and without preliminary speech I

"Louis," I said sternly, "you dropped this transfer when you came home the night of Mr. Crawford's death."

The suddenness of my remark had the effect I desired, and fairly frightened the truth out of the man.

"Yyes, sir," he stammered, and then with a frightened glance at Miss Lloyd, he stood nervously interlacing

I glanced at Miss Lloyd myself, but she had regained entire selfpossession, and sat looking straight before

As I paused myself to contemplate the attitudes of the two, I lost my ground of vantage, for when I again

spoke to the man, he too was more composed and ready to reply with caution. Doubtless he was influenced

"As I tell you, sir, and as I tell monsieur, the coroner, I have spend that evening with a young lady. We went

for a trolley ride, and as we returned I take a transfer for myself, but not for her, as she live near where we

"Oh, you left the main line and took the young lady home, intending then yourself to come by trolley through

At this point Louis seemed to forget his embarrassment, his gaze strayed away, and a happy expression came

into his eyes. I felt sure I was reading his volatile French nature aright, when I assumed his mind had turned

back to the pleasant evening he had spent with his young lady acquaintance. Somehow this went far to

convince me of the fellow's innocence for it was quite evident the murder and its mystery were not uppermost

in his thoughts at that moment. But my next question brought him beck to realization of the present situation.

"And so you walked through the village, holding, perhaps, the transfer in your hand?"

"I think, yes; but I do not remember the transfer in my hand, though he may have been there."

And now the man's unquiet had returned. His lips twitched and his dark eyes rolled about, as he endeavored

in vain to look anywhere but at Miss Lloyd. She, too, was controlling herself by a visible effort.

"And then you entered the gates of this place, you walked to the house, you walked around the house to the

back by way of the path which leads around by the library veranda, and you accidentally dropped your

"No, no!" he exclaimed; "I do not go round by the office, I go the other side of the house. I have tell you so

"Then he blow there. The wind blow that night, oh, something fearful! He blow the paper around the house, I

"I don't think so," I retorted; "I think you went around the house that way, I think you paused at the office

Just here I made a dramatic pause myself, hoping thus to appeal to the emotional nature of my victim. And I

succeeded. Louis almost shrieked as he pressed his hands against his eyes, and cried out: "No! no! I tell you I

did not go round that way! I go round the other way, and the wind the wind, he blow my transfer all about!"

I tried a more quiet manner, I tried persuasive arguments, I finally resorted to severity and even threats, but

no admission could I get from Louis, except that he had not gone round the house by way of the office. I was

positive the man was lying, and I was equally positive that Miss Lloyd knew he was lying, and that she knew

why, but the matter seemed to me at a deadlock. I could have questioned her, but I preferred to do that when

Louis was not present. If she must suffer ignominy it need not be before a servant. So I dismissed Louis,

perhaps rather curtly, and turning to Miss Lloyd, I asked her if she believed his assertion that he did not pass

"I don't know what I believe," she answered, wearily drawing her hand across her brow. "And I can't see that

it matters anyway. Supposing he did go by the office, you certainly don't suspect him of my uncle's murder,

"It is my duty, Miss Lloyd," I said gently, for the girl was pitiably nervous, "to get the testimony of any one

who was in or near the office that night. But of course testimony is useless unless it is true."

I looked her straight in the eyes as I said this, for I was thoroughly convinced that her own testimony at the

I think she understood my glance, for she arose at once, and said with extreme dignity: "I cannot see any

necessity for prolonging this interview, Mr. Burroughs. It is of course your work to discover the truth or

falsity of Louis's story, but I cannot see that it in any way implicates or even interests me."

The girl was superb. Her beauty was enhanced by the sudden spirit she showed, and her flashing dark eyes

suggested a baited animal at bay. Apparently she had reached the limit of her endurance, and was unwilling

to be questioned further or drawn into further admissions. And yet, some inexplicable idea came to me that

she was angry, not with me, but with the tangle in which I had remorselessly enmeshed her. Of a high order

of intelligence, she knew perfectly well that I was conscious of the fact that there was a secret of some sort

between her and the valet. Her haughty disdain, I felt sure, was to convey the impression that though there

might be a secret between them, it was no collusion or working together, and that though her understanding

with the man was mysterious, it was in no way beneath her dignity. Her imperious air as she quietly left the

room thrilled me anew, and I began to think that a woman who could assume the haughty demeanor of an

However, she went away, and the dark and stately library seemed to have lost its only spot of light and

charm. I sat for a few minutes pondering over it all, when I saw passing through the hall, the maid, Elsa. It

suddenly occurred to me, that having failed with the mistress of the house, I might succeed better with her

She came willingly enough, and though she seemed timid, she was not embarrassed or afraid.

"I'm in authority here," I said, "and I'm going to ask you some questions, which you must answer truthfully."

"Indeed she is, sir. She is the loveliest lady I ever worked for. I'd do anything for Miss Lloyd, that I would."

"Well, perhaps you can best serve her by telling all you know about the events of Tuesday night."

"But I don't know anything, sir," and Elsa's eyes opened wide in absolutely unfeigned wonderment.

"Nothing about the actual murder; no, of course not. But I just want you to tell me a few things about some

minor matters. Did you take the yellow flowers from the box that was sent to Miss Lloyd?"

"Yes, sir; I always untie her parcels. And as she was at dinner, I arranged the flowers in a vase of water."

For some reason this simple query disturbed the girl greatly. She flushed scarlet, and then she turned pale.

She twisted the corner of her apron in her nervous fingers, and then said, only half audibly, "I don't know,

"Oh, yes, you do, Elsa," I said in kindly tones, being anxious not to frighten her; "tell me how many there

It was impossible to disbelieve her; she was plainly telling the truth. And, too, why should she count the

roses? The natural thing would be not to count them, but merely to put them in the vase as she had said. And

yet, there was something about those flowers that Elsa knew and wouldn't tell. Could it be that I was on the

track of that missing twelfth rose? I knew,, though perhaps Elsa did not, how many roses the florist had sent

in that box. And unless Gregory Hall had abstracted one at the time of his purchase, the twelfth rose had been

taken by some one else after the flowers reached the Crawford House. Could it have been Elsa, and was her

perturbation only because of a guilty conscience over a petty theft of a flower? But I realized I must question

"Yes, sir." But the quietly spoken answer, accompanied by a natural and straightforward look promised little

"That is, if she's there when they arrive. But if she isn't there, and you open the box yourself, she wouldn't

"Oh, no, sir, she wouldn't mind. Miss Lloyd's awful kind about such things. But I wouldn't often do it, sir."

"No; of course not. But you did happen to take one of those yellow roses, didn't you, though?"

I breathlessly awaited the answer, but to my surprise, instead of embarrassment the girl's eyes flashed with

Ah, at last I was on the trail of that twelfth rose! But from the frank way in which the girl admitted having

taken the flower, I greatly feared that the trail would lead to a commonplace ending.

"What did you do with it?" I said quietly, endeavoring to make the question sound of little importance.

"I don't want to tell you;" and the pout on her scarlet lips seemed more like that of a wilful child than of one

"Oh, yes, tell me, Elsa;" and I even descended to a coaxing tone, to win the girl's confidence.

"Oh, because. I gave him the flower to wear because I thought he was going to take me out that evening. He

"And then he took another young lady," I finished for her in tones of such sympathy and indignation that she

"Yes," she said, "he went and took another girl riding on the trolley, after he had said he would take me."

"Elsa," I said suddenly, and I fear she thought I had lost interest in her broken heart, "did Louis wear that rose

"How should I know?" Elsa tossed her head with what was meant to be a haughty air, but which was belied

"Because I looked in his room the next day, and I saw it there all withered. He had thrown it on the floor!"

The tragedy in Elsa's eyes at this awful relation of the cruelty of the sterner sex called for a spoken sympathy,

and I said at once, and heartily: "That was horrid of him! If I were you I'd never give him another flower."

In accordance with the natural impulses of her sex, Elsa seemed pleased at my disapproval of Louis's

behavior, but she by no means looked as if she would never again bestow her favor upon him. She smiled and

tossed her head, and seemed willing enough for further conversation, but for the moment I felt that I had

enough food for thought. So I dismissed Elsa, having first admonished her not to repeat our conversation to

any one. In order to make sure that I should be obeyed in this matter, I threatened her with some unknown

terrors which the law would bring upon her if she disobeyed me. When I felt sure she was thoroughly

frightened into secrecy concerning our interview, I sent her away and began to cogitate on what she had told

If Louis came to the house late that night, as by his own admission he did; if he went around the house on the

side of the office, as the straying transfer seemed to me to prove; and if, at the time, he was wearing in his

coat a yellow rose with petals similar to those found on the office floor the next morning, was not one

Elsa had been gone but a few moments when Florence Lloyd returned to the library. I arose to greet her and

marvelled at the change which had come over her. Surely here was a girl of a thousand moods. She had left

me with an effect of hauteur and disdain; she returned, gentle and charming, almost humble. I could not

understand it, and remained standing after she had seated herself, awaiting developments.

"Sit down, Mr. Burroughs," she said, and her low, sweet voice seemed full of cordial invitation. "I'm, afraid I

was rude to you, when I went away just now; and I want to say that if I can tell you anything you wish to

I drew up a chair and seated myself near her. My heart was pounding with excitement at this new phase of the

girl's nature. For an instant it seemed as if she must have a personal kindly feeling toward me, and then my

reason returned, and with a suddenly falling heart and slowing pulses, I realized that I was a fool, and that

after thinking over the disclosures Louis had made, Miss Lloyd had shrewdly concluded it was to her best

advantage to curry favor with the detective. This knowledge came to me instinctively, and so I distrusted her

gentle voice and winning smile, and hardening my heart against her, I resolved to turn this new mood of hers

"I'm glad of this opportunity, Miss Lloyd," I said, "for there are some phases of this affair that I want to

discuss with you alone. Let us talk the matter over quietly. It is as well that you should know that there are

some doubts felt as to the entire truth of the story you told at the inquest. I do not say this to frighten you," I

added, as the poor girl clasped her hands and gave me a look of dumb alarm; "but, since it is so, I want to do

all I can to set the matter right. Do you remember exactly all that took place, to your knowledge, on the night

"Yes," she replied, looking more frightened still. It was evident that she knew more than she had yet revealed,

but I almost forgot my inquiry, so absorbed was I in watching her lovely face. It was even more exquisite in

"Then," I said, "let us go over it. You heard your uncle go out at about eight o'clock and return about nine?"

"You and Mrs. Pierce being in the musicroom, of course. Then, later, you heard a visitor enter, and again

"No; I think not. I didn't think at all who it might be. Uncle Joseph often had men to call in the evening."

"A few minutes before ten. I heard Lambert say, `Goodnight, sir,' as he closed the door after him."

"Yes; about halfpast ten, I should say; she came to get a book. She didn't stay two minutes."

"And after that, you went downstairs again to speak to your uncle?" For the merest instant Miss Lloyd's

eyes closed and she swayed as if about to faint, but she regained her composure at once, and answered with

Her dark eyes blazed, her cheeks flushed, and though her full lower lip quivered it was with anger now, not

As I watched her, I wondered how I could have thought her more beautiful when pale. Surely with this

"Then when did you drop the two rose petals there?" I went on, calmly enough, though my own heart was

"But, Miss Lloyd," and I observed her closely, "the petals were from a rose such as those Mr. Hall sent you

that evening. The florist assures me there were no more such blossoms in West Sedgwick at that time. The

"Or?" asked Miss Lloyd, her hands pressed against the laces at her throbbing bosom. "Or?"

"Or," I went on, "from a rose worn by some one who had come out from New York on a late train."

For the moment I chose to ignore Louis's rose for I wanted to learn anything Miss Lloyd could tell me. And,

too, the yellow petals might have fallen from a flower in Hall's coat after all. I thought it possible by

suggesting this idea, to surprise from her some hint as to whether she had any suspicion of him.

She gave a gasp, and, leaning back in her chair, she closed her eyes, as if spent with a useless struggle.

"Wait a moment," she said, putting out her hand with an imploring gesture. "Wait a moment. Let me think. I

With her eyes still closed, she lay back against the satin chair cushion, and I gazed at her, fascinated.

I knew it! Then and there the knowledge came to me! Not her guilt, not her innocence. The crime seemed far

away then, but I knew like a flash not only that I loved this girl, this Florence Lloyd, but that I should never

love any one else. It mattered not that she was betrothed to another man; the love that had suddenly sprung to

life in my heart was such pure devotion that it asked no return. Guilty or innocent, I loved her. Guilty or

innocent, I would clear her; and if the desire of her heart were toward another, she should ever know or

I gazed at her lovely face, knowing that when her eyes opened I must discreetly turn my glance aside, but

Her countenance, though troubled and drawn with anxiety, was so pure and sweet that I felt sure of her

"Mr. Burroughs," she said, and there was almost a challenge in her tone, "why do you ask me these things?

You are a detective, you are here to find out for yourself, not to ask others to find out. I am innocent of my

uncle's death, of course, but when you cast suspicion on the man to whom I am betrothed, you cannot expect

me to help you confirm that suspicion. You have made me think by your remark about a man on a late train

This was a change of base, indeed. I was being questioned instead of doing the catechising myself. Very well;

"You took the hint very quickly," I said. "Had you thought of such a possibility before?"

"No, nor do I now. I will not." Again she was the offended queen. "But since you have breathed the

To this she made no answer, but again her face wore a troubled expression, and as she went slowly from the

room, she left me with a strong conviction that she knew far more about Gregory Hall's connection with the

I had about decided to go in search of Parmalee, and talk things over with him, but I thought it would be

better to see Louis first, and settle up the matter of his rose more definitely. Accordingly I rang the bell, and

when the parlor maid answered it, I asked her to send both Louis and Elsa to me in the library.

I could see at once that these two were not friendly toward each other, and I hoped this fact would aid me in

"Now, Louis," I began, "you may as well tell me the truth about your home coming last Tuesday night. In the

first place, you must admit that you were wearing in your coat one of the yellow roses which had been sent to

"No, no, indeed!" declared Louis, giving Elsa a threatening glance, as if forbidding her to contradict him.

"Nonsense, man," I said; "don't stand there and tell useless lies. It will not help you. The best thing you can

do for yourself and for all concerned is to tell the truth. And, moreover, if you don't tell it to me now, you will

have to tell it to Mr. Goodrich, later. Elsa gave you a yellow rose and you wore it away that evening when

"No, you didn't lose it. You wore it home again, and when you retired, you threw it on the floor, in your own

"No, sir. You make mistake. I look for him next day in my room, but cannot find him."

I almost laughed at the man's ingenuousness. He contradicted his own story so unconsciously, that I began to

"Of course you couldn't find it," I informed him, "for it was taken from your room next day; and of course

you didn't look for it until after you had heard yellow roses discussed at the inquest."

Louis's easily read face proved my statement correct, but he glowered at Elsa, as he said: "Who take him

"But you denied having a rose, Louis. Now you're asking who took it away. Once again, let me advise you to

tell the truth. You're not at all successful in telling falsehoods. Now answer me this: When you came home

Tuesday night, did you or did you not walk around the house past the office window?"

"Stop, Louis! You're not telling the truth. You did walk around by the office, and you dropped your transfer

A look of dogged obstinacy came into the man's eyes, but he did not look at me. He shifted his gaze uneasily,

as he repeated almost in a singsong way, " go round the other side of the house."

It was a sort of deadlock. Without a witness to the fact, I could not prove that he had gone by the office

Elsa had been very quiet during the foregoing conversation, but now she spoke up suddenly, and said: "He

I half expected to see Louis turn on the girl in a rage, but the effect of her speech on him was quite the

reverse. He almost collapsed; he trembled and turned white, and though he tried to speak, he made no sound.

Surely this man was too cowardly for a criminal; but I must learn the secret of his knowledge.

"I was looking out at my window, sir, at the back of the house; and I saw Louis come around the house, and

"You're positive of this, Elsa? you would swear to it? Remember, you are making an important assertion."

"I am telling the truth, sir. I saw him plainly as he came around and entered at the back door."

"You hear, Louis?" I said sternly. "I believe Elsa's statement rather than yours, for she tells a straight story,

while you are rattled and agitated, and have all the appearance of concealing something."

Louis looked helpless. He didn't dare deny Elsa's story, but he would not confirm it. At last he said, with a

glance of hatred at the girl, "Elsa, she tell that story to make the trouble for me."

There was something in this. Elsa, I knew, was jealous, and her pride had been hurt because Louis had taken

the rose she gave him, and then had gone to call on another girl. But I had no reason to doubt Elsa's

statement, and I had every reason to doubt Louis's. I tried to imagine what Louis's experience had really been,

and it suddenly occurred to me, that though innocent himself of real wrong, he had seen something in the

office, or through the office windows that he wished to keep secret. I did not for a moment believe that the

man had killed his master, so I concluded he was endeavoring to shield someone else.

"Louis," I said, suddenly, "I'll tell you what you did. You went around by the office, you saw a light there late

at night, and you naturally looked in. You saw Mr. Crawford there, and he was perhaps already killed. You

stepped inside and discovered this, and then you came away, and said nothing about it, lest you yourself be

suspected of the crime. Incidentally you dropped two petals from the rose Elsa had given you."

Louis's answer to this accusation was a perfect storm of denials, expressed in voluble French and broken

English, but all to the effect that it was not true, and that if he had seen his master dead, he would have raised

I saw that I had not yet struck the right idea, so I tried again. "Then, Louis, you must have passed the office

before Mr. Crawford was killed, which is really more probable. Then as you passed the window, you saw

something or someone in the office, and you're not willing to tell about it. Is this it?"

This again brought forth only incoherent denial, and I could see that the man was becoming so rattled, it was

"Elsa," I said, suddenly, "you took that rose from Louis's room. What did you do with it?"

"I kept, I mean, I don't know what I did with it," stammered the girl, blushing rosy red, and looking shyly at

I felt sorry to disclose the poor girl's little romance, for it was easy enough to see that she was in love with the

fickle Frenchman, who evidently did not reciprocate her interest. He looked at her disdainfully, and she

But the situation was too serious for me to consider Elsa's sentiments, and I said, rather sternly: "You do

know where it is. You preserved that rose as a souvenir. Go at once and fetch it."

It was a chance shot, for I was not at all certain that she had kept the withered flower, but dominated by my

Although withered, it was still in fairly good condition; quite enough so for me to see at a glance that no

petals had been detached from it. The green calyx leaves clung around the bud in such a manner as to prove

positively that the unfolding flower had lost no petal. This settled the twelfth ruse. Wherever those telltale

petals had come from, they were not from Louis's rose. I gave the flower back to Elsa, and I said, "take your

flower, my girl, and go away now. I don't want to question you any more for the present."

A little bewildered at her sudden dismissal, Elsa went away, and I turned my attention to the Frenchman.

"Louis," I began, "this must be settled here and now between us. Either you must tell me what I want to

know, or you must be take before the district attorney, and be made to tell him. I have proved to my own

satisfaction that the rose petals in the office were not from the flower you wore. Therefore I conclude that you

did not go into the office that night, but as you passed the window you did see someone in there with Mr.

Crawford. The hour was later than Mr. Porter's visit, for he had already gone home, and Lambert had locked

the front door and gone to bed. You came in later, and what you saw, or whom you saw through the office

window so surprised you, or interested you, that you paused to look in, and there you dropped your transfer."

Though Louis didn't speak, I could see at once that I was on the right track at last. The man was shielding

somebody. He was unwilling to tell what he had seen, lest it inculpate someone. Could it be Gregory Hall? If

Hall had come out on a late train, and Louis had seen him there, he might, perhaps under Hall's coercion, be

keeping the fact secret. Again, if a strange woman with the gold bag had been in the office, that also would

have attracted Louis's attention. Again, and here my heart almost stopped beating, could he have seen

Florence Lloyd in there? But a second thought put me at ease again. Surely to have seen Florence in there,

would have been so usual and natural a sight that it could not have caused him anxiety. And yet, again, for

him to have seen Florence in her uncle's office, would have proved to him that the story she told at the

inquest was false. I must get out of him the knowledge he possessed, if I had to resort to a sort of third

"I quite understand, Louis, that you are shielding some person. But let me tell you that it is useless. It is much

wiser for you to tell me all you know, and then I can go to work intelligently to find the man who murdered

Louis seemed to have found his voice again. "Yes, sir, of course he must be found. Of course I want him

found, the miscreant, the villain! but, Mr. Burroughs, sir, what I have see in the office makes nothing to

your search. I simply see Mr. Crawford alive and well. And I pass by. That fool girl Elsa, she tell you that I

pass by, so I may say so. But I see nothing in the office to alarm me, and if I drop my transfer there, it is but

"Louis," and I looked him straight in the eye, "all that sounds straightforward and true. But, if you saw

nothing in the office to surprise or alarm you, why did you at first deny having passed by the office at all?"

The man had no answer for this. He was not ingenious in inventing falsehood, and he stood looking helpless

That wouldn't do, then. As long as I asked him direct questions he could answer falsely. I must trip him up in

I now knew he was not writing, for the truth had slipped out before the man could frame up his lie. I believed

I was going to learn something at last, if I could make the man tell. Surely the testimony of one who saw

Joseph Crawford late that night was of value, and though that testimony was difficult to obtain, it was well

Louis stared at me. "Mr. Hall, he was in New York that night." This was said so simply and

unpremeditatedly, that I was absolutely certain it was not Hall whom Louis had seen there.

"Oh, yes, of course, so he was," I said lightly; "and Mr. Crawford was writing, was he?"

"Yes, sir," spoken with the dogged scowl which I was beginning to learn always accompanied Louis's

And now I decided to put my worst fear to the test and have it over with. It must be done, and I felt sure I

It was out. The mere fact that Louis answered that question so calmly and unconsciously proved he was

telling the truth. But what a truth! for it told me at the same time that Florence Lloyd was in the office with

her uncle, that Louis had seen her, but that she had not seen him. I had learned the truth from my reading of

the man's expression and demeanor, and though it made my heart sink, I didn't for a moment doubt that it was

Of course Louis realized the next instant what he had done, and again he began his stammering denials. "Of

course, Miss Lloyd do not see me for she is not there. How can she see me, then? I tell you my master was

Had I been the least uncertain, this would have convinced me that I was right. For Louis's voice rose almost

"Give it up, Louis," I said; "you have let out the truth, now be quiet. You couldn't help it, man, you were

bound to trip yourself up sooner or later. You put up a good fight for Miss Florence, and now that I

understand why you told your falsehoods, I can't help admiring your chivalry. You saw Miss Lloyd there that

evening, you heard her next day at the inquest deny having been in the office in the evening. So, in a way, it

was very commendable on your part to avoid contradicting her testimonies, with your own. But you are not

clever enough, Louis, to carry out that deceit to the end. And now that you have admitted that you saw Miss

Lloyd there, you can best help her cause, and best help me to help her cause, by telling me all about it. For

rest assured, Louis, that I am quite as anxious to prove Miss Lloyd's innocence as you can possibly be, and

the only way to accomplish that end, is to learn as much of the truth as I possibly can. Now, tell me what she

"Only talking to her uncle, sir." Louis had the air of a defeated man. He had tried to shield Miss Lloyd's name

"Never mind," I said, "you need not tell me more. In fact, I would prefer to get the rest of the story from Miss

Louis looked startled. "Don't tell Miss Lloyd I told you this," he begged; "I have try very hard not to tell

"I know you tried hard, Louis, not to tell me, and it was not your fault that I wrung the truth from you. I will

not tell Miss Lloyd that you told me, unless it should become necessary, and I do not think it will. Go away

now, Louis, and do not discuss this matter with anybody at all. And, also, do not think for a moment that you

have been disloyal in telling me that you saw Miss Lloyd. As I say, you couldn't help it. I should simply have

kept at you until I made you tell, so you need not blame yourself in the matter at all."

Louis went away, and though I could see that he believed what I said, he had a dejected air, and I couldn't

help feeling sorry for the man who had so inadvertently given me the knowledge that must be used against

After Louis left me, I felt as if a dead weight had fallen on my heart. Florence Lloyd had gone down to her

uncle's office late that night, and yet at the inquest she had testified that she had not done so. And even to me,

when talking quietly and alone, she had repeated her false assertion. This much I knew, but why she had done

if, I did not know. Not until I was forced to do so, would I believe that even her falsehood in the matter meant

Well, I would find out this reason, and if it were not a creditable one to her, I would still endeavor to do all I

could for her. I longed to see her, and try if perhaps kind and gentle urging might not elicit the truth. But she

had left me with such an air of haughty disdain, I hesitated to send for her again just now. And as it was

On the way, I came to the conclusion that it would do no harm to have a talk with Parmalee.

I had not much confidence in his detective ability, but he knew the people better than I did, and might be able

After I reached the Sedgwick Arms I telephoned Parmalee to come over and dine with me, and he readily

During dinner I told him all that I had learned from Elsa and Louis. Of course I had no right to keep this

knowledge to myself, and, too, I wanted Parmalee's opinion on the situation as it stood at present.

"It doesn't really surprise me," he said, "for I thought all along, Miss Lloyd was not telling the truth. I'm not

yet ready to say that I think she killed her uncle, although I must say it seems extremely probable. But if she

"No, I don't mean Hall. In fact I don't mean any one in particular. I think Miss Lloyd was the instigator of the

crime, and practically carried out its commission, but she may have had an assisting agent for the actual

"Oh, how you talk! It quite gives me the shivers even to think of a beautiful young woman being capable of

"But, you see, Burroughs, that's because you are prejudiced in favor of Miss Lloyd. Women are capable of

crime as well as men, and sometimes they're even more clever in the perpetration of it. And you must admit if

"I have to agree to that, Parmalee," I admitted; "she certainly shows great strength of character."

"She shows more than that; she has indomitable will, unflinching courage, and lots of pluck. If, for any

This talk made me cringe all over, but I couldn't deny it, for so far as I knew Florence Lloyd, Parmalee's

"All right," I said, "I'll grant her capability, but that doesn't prove a thing. I don't believe that girl is guilty,

"But look at the evidence, man! She denied her presence in the room, yet we now know she was there. She

denied the ownership of the gold bag, yet probably she was also untruthful in that matter. She is a woman of a

complex nature, and though I admire her in many ways, I shouldn't care to have much to do with her."

"Let us leave out the personal note, Parmalee," I said, for I was angry at his attitude toward Florence.

"All right. Don't you think for a moment that I don't see where you stand with regard to the haughty beauty,

"Indeed it isn't," I returned; "and whatever may be my personal feeling toward Miss Lloyd, I can assure you it

"I believe you, old man; and so I'm sure you will agree with me that we must follow up the inquiry as to Miss

Lloyd's presence in the office that night. She must be made to talk, and perhaps it would be best to tell

"Oh, no," I cried involuntarily. "Don't set him on the track of the poor girl. That is, Parmalee, let me talk to

her again, first. Now that I know she was down there that night, I think I can question her in a little different

manner, and persuade her to own the truth. And, Parmalee, perhaps she was down there because Hall was

"Any woman might be a tool at the command of the man she loves. But," I went on, with an air of conviction

"I don't know about that," returned Parmalee; "you can't tell about a woman like Florence Lloyd. If she

"On the other hand, why shouldn't she? For some reason she's dead set on marrying him, ready to give up her

fortune to do so, if necessary. He must have some sort of a pretty strong hold on her."

"I admit all that, and yet I can't believe she loves him. He's such a commonplace man."

"Commonplace doesn't quite describe him. And yet Gregory Hall, with all the money in the world, could

"No; and what would Miss Florence Lloyd see in a man like that, to make her so determined to marry him?"

"I don't think she is determined, except that Hall has some sort of hold over her, a promise or something,

My heart rejoiced at the idea that Florence was not in love with Hall, but I did not allow myself to dwell on

that point, for I was determined to go on with the work, irrespective of my feelings toward her.

"You see," Parmalee went on, "you suspect Hall, only because you're prejudiced against him."

"Good gracious!" I exclaimed; "that's an awful thing to say, Parmalee. The idea of a detective suspecting a

man, merely because he doesn't admire his personality! And besides, it isn't true. If I suspect Hall, it's because

I think he had a strong motive, a possible opportunity, and more than all, because he refuses to tell where he

"But that's just the point, Burroughs. A man who'll commit murder would fix up his alibi first of all. He

would know that his refusal to tell his whereabouts would be extremely suspicious. No, to my mind it's Hall's

"Then, in that case, it's the cleverest kind of an alibi he could invent, for it stamps him innocent at once."

"Oh, come, now, that's going pretty far; but I will say, Burroughs, that you haven't the least shred of proof

against Hall, and you know it. Prejudice and unfounded suspicion and even a strong desire that he should be

the villain, are all very well. But they won't go far as evidence in a court of law."

I was forced to admit that Parmalee was right, and that so far I had no proof whatever that Gregory Hall was

at all implicated in Mr. Crawford's death. To be sure he might have worn a yellow rose, and he might have

brought the late newspaper, but there was no evidence to connect him with those clues, and too, there was the

gold bag. It was highly improbable that that should have been brought to the office and left there by a man.

However, I persuaded Parmalee to agree not to carry the matter to Mr. Goodrich until I had had one more

After Parmalee had gone, I indulged in some very gloomy reflections. Everything seemed to point one way.

But the more I realized this, the more I determined to do all I could for her, and as to do this, I must gain her

confidence, and even liking, I resolved to approach the subject the next day with the utmost tactfulness and

The next morning I started on my mission with renewed hopefulness. Reaching the Crawford house, I asked

for Miss Lloyd, and I was shown into a small parlor to wait for her. It was a sort of morning room, a pretty

little apartment that I had not been in before; and it was so much more cheerful and pleasant than the stately

library, I couldn't help hoping that Miss Lloyd, too, would prove more amenable than she had yet been.

She soon came in, and though I was beginning to get accustomed to the fact that she was a creature of

variable moods, I was unprepared for this one. Her hauteur had disappeared; she was apparently in a sweet

and gentle frame of mind. Her large dark eyes were soft and gentle, and though her red lips quivered, it was

not with anger or disdain as they had done the day before. She wore a plain white morning gown, and a long

black necklace of small beads. The simplicity of this costume suited her well, and threw into relief her own

She greeted me more pleasantly than she had ever done before, and I couldn't help feeling that the cheerful

sunny little room had a better effect on her moods than the darker furnishings of the library.

"I wish," I began, "that we had not to talk of anything unpleasant this morning. I wish there were no such

thing as untruth or crime in the world, and that I were calling on you, as an acquaintance, as a friend might

"I wish so, too," she responded, and as she flashed a glance at me, I had a glimpse of what it might mean to

be friends with Florence Lloyd without the ugly shadow between us that now was spoiling our teteatete.

Just that fleeting glance held in it the promise of all that was attractive, charming and delightful in femininity.

It was as if the veil of the great, gloomy sorrow had been lifted for a moment, and she was again an

untroubled, merry girl. It seemed too, as if she wished that we could be together under pleasanter

circumstances and could converse on subjects of less dreadful import. However, all these thoughts that

tumultuously raced through my mind, must be thrust aside in favor of the business in hand.

"I am sorry, Miss Lloyd, to doubt your word, but I want to tell you myself rather than to have you learn it

from others that I have a witness who has testified to your presence in your uncle's office that fateful Tuesday

As I had feared, the girl turned white and shivered as if with a dreadful apprehension.

I seemed to read her mind, and I felt at once that to her, the importance of what I had said depended largely

on my answer to this question, and I paused a moment to think what this could mean. And then it flashed

across me that she was afraid I would say the witness was Gregory Hall. I became more and more convinced

that she was shielding Hall, and I felt sure that when she learned it was not he, she would feel relieved.

However, I had promised Louis not to let her know that he had told me of seeing her, unless it should be

"I think I won't tell you that; but since you were seen in the office at about eleven o'clock, will you not tell

me, I assure you it is for your own best interests, what you were doing there, and why you denied being

"First tell me the name of your informer;" and so great was her agitation that she scarcely breathed the words.

"I prefer not to do so, but I may say it is a reliable witness and one who gave his evidence most unwillingly."

"Well, if you will not tell me who he was, will you answer just one question about him? Was it Mr. Hall?"

As I had anticipated, she showed distinctly her relief at my answer. Evidently she dreaded to hear Hall's name

"And now, Miss Lloyd, I ask you earnestly and with the best intent, please to tell me the details of your visit

She sat silent for a moment, her eyes cast down, the long dark lashes lying on her pale cheeks. I waited

patiently, for I knew she was struggling with a strong emotion of some sort, and I feared if I hurried her, her

gentle mood would disappear, and she might again become angry or haughty of demeanor.

At last she spoke. The dark lashes slowly raised, and she seemed even more gentle than at first.

"I must tell you," she said. "I see I must. But don't repeat it, unless it is necessary. Detectives have to know

"We never repeat confidences, Miss Lloyd," I replied, "except when necessary to further the cause of right

She brightened up so much that I began to hope she had only some trifling matter to tell of.

"Well, then," she went on, "I will tell you, for I know it need not be repeated in the furtherance of justice. I

did go down to my uncle's office that night, after Mrs. Pierce had been to my room; and it was I it must

"No," she said, and her face looked perplexed, but not confused. "No, the bag is not mine, and I did not leave

it there. I know nothing of it, absolutely nothing. But I did go to the office at about eleven o'clock. I had a talk

with my uncle, and I left him there a halfhour later alive and well as when I went in."

"No, it was not! Uncle Joseph was more angry than I had ever before seen him. He declared he intended to

make a new will the next morning, which would provide only a small income for me. He said this was not

"It scarcely seems loyal to Mr. Hall for me to say it," she returned, and the tears were in her eyes. "But this is

all confidential. Well, Uncle Joseph said that Gregory only wanted to marry me for my fortune, and that the

new will would prove this. Of course I denied that Mr. Hall was so mercenary, and then we had a good deal

of an altercation. But it was not very different from many discussions we had had on the same subject, only

Uncle was more decided, and said he had asked Mr. Randolph to come the next morning and draw up the

new will. I left him still angry he wouldn't even say goodnight to me and now I blame myself for not

being more gentle, and trying harder to make peace. But it annoyed me to have him call Gregory mercenary

She turned white to the very lips. "You are unnecessarily impertinent," she said.

"I am," I agreed. "I beg your pardon." But I had discovered that she did realize her lover's true nature.

"And then you went to your room, and stayed there?" I went on, with a meaning emphasis on the last clause.

"Yes," she said; "and so, you see, what I have told you casts no light on the mystery. I only told you so as to

explain the bits of the yellow rose. I feared, from what you said, that Mr. Hall's name might possibly be

"I don't know. He refuses to tell. Of course you must see that his absolute refusal to tell where he was that

"He won't even tell me where he was," she said, sighing. "But it doesn't matter. He wasn't here."

"That's just it," I rejoined. "If he was not here, it would be far better for him to tell where he really was. For

the refusal to tell raises a question that will not be downed, except by an alibi. I don't want to be cruel, Miss

Lloyd, but I must make you see that as the inquiry proceeds, the actions of both Mr. Hall and yourself will be

subjected to very close scrutiny, and though perhaps undue attention will be paid to trifles, yet the trifles must

I was so sorry for the girl, that, in my effort not to divulge my too great sympathy, I probably used a sterner

At any rate, I had wakened her at last to a sense of the danger that threatened her and her lover, and now, if

she would let me, I would do all in my power to save them both. But I must know all she could tell me.

"He left here about halfpast five. He had been in the office with Uncle Joseph all the afternoon, and at five

o'clock he came in here for a cup of tea with me. He almost always comes in at teatime. Then he left about

"I never ask him questions like that. I knew he was to attend to some business for Uncle the next day, but I

never ask him what he does evenings when he is in the city, or at any time when he is not with me."

Miss Lloyd again put on that little air of hauteur which always effectually stopped my "impertinence."

"It is not my habit," she said. "What Gregory wishes me to know he tells me of his own accord."

"Miss Lloyd, why did you tell an untruth, and say you did not come downstairs again, after going up at ten

Her hauteur disappeared. A frightened, appealing look came into her eyes, and she looked to me like a lovely

"I was afraid," she confessed. "Yes, truly, I was afraid that they would think I had something to do with the

with Uncle Joseph's death. And as I didn't think it could do any good to tell of my little visit to him, I just said

I didn't come down. Oh, I know it was a lie I know it was wicked but I was so frightened, and it was such

"I told you why," she said: "so you would know where the rose leaves came from, and not suspect Gregory."

It is impossible to describe the dismay that smote my heart at the hesitation of this answer. It was more than

hesitation. It was a conflict of unspoken impulses, and the words, when they were uttered, seemed to carry

hidden meanings, and to my mind they carried the worst and most sinister meaning conceivable.

To me, it seemed to point unmistakably to collusion between Florence Lloyd, whom I already loved, and

Gregory Hall, whom I already distrusted and disliked. Guilty collusion between these two would explain

everything. Theirs the motive, theirs the opportunity, theirs the denials and false witnessing. The gold bag, as

yet, remained unexplained, but the yellow rose petals and the late newspaper could be accounted for if Hall

had come out on the midnight train, and Florence had helped him to enter and leave the house unseen.

Bah! it was impossible. And, any way, the gold bag remained as proof against this horrid theory. I would pin

my faith 1o the gold bag, and through its presence in the room, I would defy suspicions of the two people I

"I don't know what to think. I hate to accuse Uncle Joseph of such a thing, but it seems as if some woman

friend of his must have come to the office after I left. The long French windows were open it was a warm

"I'm sure it was not! That is, not in sight, and Uncle Joseph was not the sort of man to have such a thing put

"Forgive the insinuation, but of course you could not know positively that Mr. Crawford would not have a

She looked up surprised. "Of course I could not be positive," she said, "but it is difficult to imagine anything

She almost smiled as she said this, for apparently the mere idea was amusing, and I had a flashing glimpse of

what it must be to see Florence Lloyd smile! Well it should not be my fault, or due to my lack of exertion, if

the day did not come when she should smile again, and I promised myself I should be there to see it. But

stifling these thoughts, I brought my mind back to duty. Drawing from my pocket the photograph I had found

"In Uncle's desk!" she exclaimed. "This does surprise me. I had no idea Uncle Joseph had received a

photograph from a lady with an affectionate message, too. Are you quite sure it belonged to him.?"

"I only know that we found it in his desk, hidden beneath some old letters and papers."

"Here's your chance, Mr. Burroughs," and again Florence Lloyd's dimples nearly escaped the bondage which

held them during these sad days. "If you're a detective, you ought to gather at once from this photograph and

signature all the details about this lady; who she is, and what she had to do with Uncle Joseph."

"I wish I could do so," I replied, "but you see, I'm not that kind of detective. I have a friend, Mr. Stone, who

could do it, and would tell you, as you say, everything about that lady, merely by looking at her picture."

As a case in point, I told her then and there the story of Fleming Stone's wonderful deductions from the pair

"But you never proved that it was true?" she asked, her dark eyes sparkling with interest, and her face alight

"No, but it wasn't necessary. Stone's deductions are always right, and if not, you know it is the exception that

"Well, let us try to deduce a little from this picture. I don't believe for a moment, that Uncle Joseph had a

romantic attachment for any lady, though these words on the back of the picture do seem to indicate it."

"Well, go on," said I, so carried away by the fascination of the girl, when she had for a moment seemed to

forget her troubles, that I wanted to prolong the moment. "Go ahead, and see what inferences you can draw

"I think she is about fifty years old," Florence began, "or perhaps fiftyfive. What do you think?"

"I wouldn't presume to guess a lady's age," I returned, "and beside, I want you to try your powers on this. You

may be better at deductions than I am. I have already confessed to you my inability in that direction."

"Well," she went on, "I think this lady is rather goodlooking, and I think she appreciates the fact."

"The first is evident on the face of it, and the second is a universal truth, so you haven't really deduced much

"No, that's so," and she pouted a little. "But at any rate, I can deduce more about her dress than you can. The

picture was taken, or at least that costume was made, about a year ago, for that is the style that was worn

She flashed me a glance of understanding and appreciation, but undaunted, went on: "The gown also was not

made by a competent modiste, but was made by a dressmaker in the house, who came in by the day. The lady

is of an economical turn of mind, because the lace yoke of the gown is an old one, and has even been darned

"Now that is deduction," I said admiringly; "the only trouble is, that it doesn't do us much good. Somehow I

can't seem to fancy this goodlooking, economical, middleaged lady, who has her dressmaking done at

"No, I can't, either," said Florence gravely; "but then, I can't imagine any one else doing that, either. It seems

like a horrible dream, and I can't realize that it really happened to Uncle Joseph."

"But it did happen, and we must find the guilty person. I think with you, that this photograph is of little value

as a clue, and yet it may turn out to be. And yet I do think the gold bag is a clue. You are quite sure it isn't

Perhaps it was a mean way to put the question, but the look of indignation she gave me helped to convince

"I told you it was not," she said, "but," and her eyes fell, "since I have confessed to one falsehood, of course

"At any rate, it is a sort of proof," she said, smiling sadly, "that any one who knows anything about women's

fashions can tell you that it is not customary to carry a bag of that sort when one is in the house and in

evening dress. Or rather, in a negligee costume, for I had taken off my evening gown and wore a teagown. I

The girl had seemingly grown almost lighthearted. Her speech was punctuated by little smiles, and her half

sad, half gay demeanor bewitched me. I felt sure that what little suggestion of lightheartedness had come into

her mood had come because she had at last confessed the falsehood she had told, and her freed conscience

But there were still important questions to be asked, so, though unwillingly, I returned to the old subject.

"Why, yes; I think so. That is, he said he would make a new one unless I gave up Gregory. That implied that

"Miss Lloyd, this is important evidence. I must tell you that I shall be obliged to repeat much of it to the

district attorney. It seems to me to prove that your uncle did not himself destroy the will."

"I can't think it, for it is not in scraps in the wastebasket, nor are there any paperashes in the grate."

"Well, Miss Lloyd," I said, as I rose to go, "I am going to do everything in my power in your behalf and in

behalf of Mr. Hall. But I tell you frankly, unless you will both tell me the truth, and the whole truth, you will

I had to look away from her as I said this, for I could not look on that sweet face and say anything even

Her lip quivered. "I will do my best," she said tremblingly. "I will try to make Mr. Hall tell where he was that

More collusion! I said goodby rather curtly, I fear, and went quickly away from that perilous presence.

Truly, a nice detective, I! Bowled over by a fair face, I was unable to think clearly, to judge logically, or to

Well, I would go home and think it out by myself. Away from her influence I surely would regain my

"How do you do, Mr. Burroughs?" he said pleasantly. "Have you time for a halfhour's chat?"

It was just what I wanted. A talk with this clearthinking man would help me, indeed, and I determined to get

"Well, what do you think about it all?" I inquired, after we were comfortably settled at a small table on the

shaded veranda, which was a popular gatheringplace at this hour. But in our corner we were in no danger

"You know the old story of the man who said he wouldn't hire a dog and then do his own barking. Well,

though I haven't 'hired' you, I would be quite ready to pay your honorarium if you can ferret out our West

Sedgwick mystery. And so, as you are the detective in charge of the case, I ask you, what do you think about

"It need not incriminate her, if it were hers," said Mr. Porter, meditatively knocking the ash from said his

cigar. "She might have left it in the office at any time previous to the day of the crime. Women are always

"Am I to be questioned?" he said. "Well, I've no objections, I'm sure. No, I do not think it was there when I

called on Mr. Crawford that evening. But I couldn't swear to this, for I am not an observant man, and the

thing might have lain there in front of me and never caught my eye. If I had noticed it, of course I should

"No; I can't say I think so. And yet I can imagine a girl untruthfully denying ownership under such

I started at this. For hadn't Miss Lloyd untruthfully denied coming downstairs to talk to her uncle?

"But," went on Mr. Porter, "if the bag is not Florence's, then I can think of but one explanation for its

"Yes," was the grave reply; "and though such an occurrence might have been an innocent one, yet, taken in

"Granting this," I suggested, "we ought to be able to trace the owner of the bag."

"Not likely. If the owner of that bag a woman, presumably is the slayer of Joseph Crawford, and made

her escape from the scene undiscovered, she is not likely to stay around where she may be found. And the

"They are that," I agreed. "Not a thing in it that mightn't be in any woman's bag in this country. To me, that

"I am glad to hear you say that, Mr. Burroughs. I confess I have had a halffear that your suspicions had a

trend in Florence's direction, and I assure you, sir, that girl is incapable of the slightest impulse toward

"I'm sure of that," I said heartily, my blood bounding in my veins at an opportunity to speak in defense of the

woman I loved. "But how if her impulses were directed, or even coerced, by another?"

"Oh, nothing. But sometimes the best and sweetest women will act against their own good impulses for those

"I cannot pretend to misunderstand you," said Mr. Porter. "But you are wrong. If the one you have in mind

I will say no name was in any way guiltily implicated, it was without the knowledge or connivance of

Florence Lloyd. But, man, the idea is absurd. The individual in question has a perfect alibi."

"Refuses the details, perhaps. And he has a right to, since they concern no one but himself. No, my friend,

you know the French rule; well, follow that, and search for the lady with the gold mesh bag."

"The lady without it, at present," I said, with an apologetic smile for my rather grim jest.

"Yes; and that's the difficulty. As she hasn't the bag, we can't discover her. So as a clue it is worthless."

I thought best not to tell Mr. Porter of the card I had found in the bag, for I hoped soon to hear from

headquarters concerning the lady whose name it bore. But I told him about the photograph I had found in Mr.

Crawford's desk, and showed it to him. He did not recognize it as being a portrait of any one he had ever

"I'm quite sure," he said, "that Joseph Crawford has not been interested in any woman since the death of his

wife. He has always seemed devoted to her memory, and as one of his nearest friends, I think I would have

known if he had formed any other attachment. Of course, in a matter like this, a man may well have a secret

from his nearest friends, but I cannot think this mild and gentlelooking lady is at all concerned in the

As a matter of fact, I agreed with Mr. Porter, for nothing I had discovered among the late Mr. Crawford's

After Mr, Porter's departure I studied long over my puzzles, and I came to the conclusion that I could do little

That evening I went to see Philip Crawford. As one of the executors of his late brother's estate, and as

He seemed glad to see me, and glad to discuss ways and means of running down the assassin. Like Mr.

"I can't help thinking it belongs to Florence," he said. "I know the girl so well, and I know that her horrified

fear of being in any way connected with the tragedy might easily lead her to, disown her own property,

thinking the occasion justified the untruth. That girl has no more guilty knowledge of Joseph's death than I

have, and that is absolutely none. I tell you frankly, Mr. Burroughs, I haven't even a glimmer of a suspicion

of any one. I can't think of an enemy my brother had; he was the most easygoing of men. I never knew him

to quarrel with anybody. So I trust that you, with your detective talent, can at least find a clue to lead us in the

"Nonsense! No! If that were a clue, it would point to some woman who came secretly at night to visit Joseph.

My brother was not that sort of man, sir. He had no feminine acquaintances that were unknown to his

"I know it! We have been brothers for sixty years or more, and whatever Joseph's faults, they did not lie in

that direction. No, sir; if that bag is not Florence's, then there is some other rational and commonplace

"I'm glad to hear you speak so positively, Mr. Crawford, as to your brother's feminine acquaintances. And in

connection with the subject, I would like to show you this photograph which I found in his desk."

I handed the card to Mr. Crawford, whose features broke into a smile as he looked at it.

"Oh, that," he said; "that is a picture, of Mrs. Patton." He looked at the picture with a glance that seemed to be

of admiring reminiscence, and he studied the gentle face of the photograph a moment without speaking.

Then he said, "She was beautiful as a girl. She used to be a school friend of both Joseph and myself."

"Oh, she didn't send this picture to Joseph. She sent it to my wife last Christmas. I took it over to show it to

Joseph some months ago, and left it there without thinking much about it. He probably laid it in his desk

without thinking much about it, either. No, no, Burroughs, there is no romance there, and you can't connect

"I rather thought that, Mr. Crawford; for this is evidently a sweet, simpleminded lady, and more over

nothing has turned up to indicate that Mr. Crawford had a romantic interest of any kind."

"No, he didn't. I knew Joseph as I know myself. No; whoever killed my brother, was a man; some villain who

"Yes, that is what proves to me that whoever this assassin was, it was some one of whose motive I know

nothing. The fact that my brother was murdered, proves to me that my brother had an enemy, but I had never

I flung the question at him, suddenly, hoping to catch him unawares. But he only looked at me with the blank

"Well, when I was hunting through that goldmesh bag, I discovered a lady's visiting card with that name on

"No!" he exclaimed. "In the bag? Then some one has put it there! for I looked over all the bag's contents

"It was between the pocket and the lining," said I; "it is there still, for as I felt sure no one else would

"Oh, I don't want to, see it," he exclaimed angrily. "And I tell you anyway, Mr. Burroughs, that bag is

I couldn't understand Mr. Crawford's decided attitude against the bag as a clue, but I dropped the subject, for I

"Yes, indeed. The whole affair is mysterious, and, for my part, I cannot form even a conjecture as to who the

"How do I know?" he cried, almost angrily. "I tell you, I have no suspicions. I wish I had! I desire, above all

things, to bring my brother's murderer to justice. But I don't know where to look. If the weapon were not

"The doctor declares it could not have been suicide, even if the weapon had been found near him. This they

"Yes, yes; I know it. It was, without doubt, murder. But who who would have a motive?"

"They say," I observed, "motives for murder are usually love, revenge, or money."

"There is no question of love or revenge in this instance. And as for money, as I am the one who has profited

"Yes, it is absurd," he went on, "for had I desired Joseph's fortune, I need not have killed him to acquire it. He

told me the day before he died that he intended to disinherit Florence, and make me his heir, unless she broke

with that secretary of his. I tried to dissuade him from this step, for we are not a mercenary lot, we Crawfords,

and I thought I had made him reconsider his decision. Now, as it turns out, he persisted in his resolve, and

was only prevented from carrying it out by this midnight assassin. We must find that villain, Mr. Burroughs!

"Then, Mr. Crawford," said I, "if you do not mind the outlay, I advise that we send for Fleming Stone. He is a

detective of extraordinary powers, and I am quite willing to surrender the case to him."

"I know it seems so," I replied, "but I have my reasons. One is, that Fleming Stone makes important

deductions from seemingly unimportant clues; and he holds that unless these clues are followed immediately,

"H'm," mused Philip Crawford, stroking his strong, square chin. "I don't care much for these spectacular

detectives. Your man, I suppose, would glance at the gold bag, and at once announce the age, sex, and

"By commonsense. No woman came to the house in the dead of night and shot my brother, and then

departed, taking her revolver with her. And again, granting a woman did have nerve and strength enough to

do that, such a woman is not going off leaving her gold bag behind her as evidence!"

This speech didn't affect me much. It was pure conjecture. Women are uncertain creatures, at best; and a

woman capable of murder would be equally capable of losing her head afterward, and leaving circumstantial

I was sorry Mr. Crawford didn't seem to take to the notion of sending for Stone. I wasn't weakening in the

case so far as my confidence in my own ability was concerned; but I could see no direction to look except

"Well, as a man, I think he's about the average, ordinary young American, of the secretary type. He has little

real ambition, but he has had a good berth with Joseph, and he has worked fairly hard to keep it. As a suspect,

"Because he went away at six that evening, and was in New York until nearly noon the next day."

"He says so," I went on; "but no one can prove his statement. He refuses to say where he was in New York,

or what he did. Now, merely as a supposition, why couldn't he have come out here say on the midnight

"He had the same motive Florence would have. He knew of Mr. Crawford's objection to their union, and he

knew of his threat to change his will. Mr. Hall is not blind to the advantages of a fortune."

"Right you are, there! In fact, I always felt he was marrying Florence for her money. I had no real reason to

"Me, too. Moreover, I found a late extra of a New York paper in Mr. Crawford's office. This wasn't on sale

until about half past eleven that night, so whoever left it there must have come out from the city on that

A change came over Philip Crawford's face. Apparently he was brought to see the whole matter in a new

"What? What's that?" he cried excitedly, grasping his chairarms and half rising. " A late newspaper! An

"But but Gregory Hall! Why man, you're crazy! Hall is a good fellow. Not remarkably clever, perhaps,

"Don't take it so hard, Mr. Crawford," I broke in. "Probably. Mr. Hall is innocent. But the late paper must

"This is awful! This is terrible!" groaned the poor man, and I couldn't help wondering if he had some other

Then, by an effort, he recovered himself, and began to talk in more normal tones.

"Now, don't let this new idea run away with you, Mr. Burroughs," he said. "If Hall had an interview with my

brother that night, he would have learned from him that he intended to make a new will, but hadn't yet done

"Exactly; and that would constitute a motive for putting Mr. Crawford out of the way before he could

"We don't know that," I responded gravely. "And, anyway, if he had done so, Mr. Hall didn't know it. This

"But the gold bag," said Mr. Crawford, apparently to get away from the subject of Gregory Hall.

I couldn't go on. A strange sense of duty had forced those words from me, but I could say no more.

Fleming Stone might take the case if they wanted him to; or they might get some one else. But I could not go

"Nonsense, Dad!" cried a strong, young voice, and his son, Philip, Jr., bounded into the room and grasped his

father's hands. "I overheard a few of your last words, and you two are on the wrong track. Florrie's no more

mixed up in that horrible business than I am. Neither is Hall. He's a fool chap, but no villain. I heard what you

said about the late newspaper, but lots of people come out on that midnight train. You may as well suspect

some peaceable citizen coming home from the theatre, as to pick out poor Hall, without a scrap of evidence to

I was relieved beyond all words at the hearty assurance of the boy, and I plucked up new courage.

Apprehension had made me fainthearted, but if he could show such flawless confidence in Florence and her

"Good for you, young man!" I cried, shaking his hand. "You've cheered me up a lot. I'll take a fresh start, and

"Wait a bit, wait a bit," said Mr. Crawford. "Phil's right; there's no possibility of Florrie or Hall in the matter.

Leave the gold bag, the newspapers, and the yellow posies out of consideration, and go to work in some

"Never finer," said Philip Crawford. "Joseph was a very rich man, and all due to his own clever and careful

investments. A bit of a speculator, but always on the right side of the market. Why, he fairly had a corner in

X.Y. stock. Just that deal and it will go through in a few days means a fortune in itself. I shall settle that

"If it is, no one will be more glad than I to see Florrie reinstated in her own right. If no will turns up, Joe's

He spoke with a proud dignity, and I was rather sorry I had caught him up so sharply.

I went back to the inn, and, after vainly racking my brain over it all for a time, I turned in, but to a miserably

The next morning I received information from headquarters. It was a longcode telegram, and I eagerly

deciphered it, to learn that Mrs. Egerton Purvis was an English lady who was spending a few months in New

York City. She was staying at the Albion Hotel, and seemed to be in every way above suspicion of any sort.

Parmalee came just as I was leaving the inn, and was of course anxious and inquisitive to know where I was

At first I thought I would take him into my confidence, and I even thought of taking him with me. But I felt

sure I could do better work alone. It might be that Mrs. Egerton Purvis should turn out to be an important

factor in the case, and I suppose it was really an instinct of vanity that made me prefer to look her up without

So I told him that I was going to New York on a matter in connection with the case, but that I preferred to go

alone, but I would tell him the entire result of my mission as soon as I returned. I think he was a little

disappointed, but he was a goodnatured chap, and bade me a cheerful goodby, saying he would meet me on

Learning at the desk that the lady was really there, I sent my card up to her with a request for an immediate

She greeted me with that air of frigid reserve typical of an English woman. Though not unattractive to look

at, she possessed the high cheekbones and prominent teeth which are almost universal in the women of her

nation. She was perhaps between thirty and forty years old, and had the air of a grande dame.

"Mr. Burroughs?" she said, looking through her lorgnon at my card, which she held in her hand.

"Yes," I assented, and judging from her appearance that she was a woman of a decided and straightforward

"A detective!" she cried out, with much the same tone as if I had said a rattlesnake.

"Not be alarmed! when a detective comes to see me! How can I help it? Why, I've never had such an

experience before. It is shocking! I've met many queer people in the States, but not a detective! Reporters are

"Don't let it disturb you so, Mrs. Purvis. I assure you there is nothing to trouble you in the fact of my presence

"Trouble of my own making!" she almost shrieked. " Tell me at once what you mean, or I shall ring the bell

Her fear and excitement made me think that perhaps I was on the track of new developments, and lest she

should carry out her threat of ringing the bell, I plunged at once into the subject.

"No, I haven't," she snapped, "and if I had, I should take means to recover it, and not wait for a detective to

I was terribly disappointed. To be sure she might be telling a falsehood about the bag, but I didn't think so.

She was angry, annoyed, and a little frightened at my intrusion, but she was not at all embarrassed at my

"Are you quite sure you have not lost a goldlink bag?" I insisted, as if in idiotic endeavor to persuade her to

"Of course I'm sure," she replied, half laughing now; "I suppose I should know it if I had done so."

"It's a rather valuable bag," I went on, "with a gold framework and gold chain."

"Well, if it's worth a whole fortune, it isn't my bag," she declared; "for I never owned such a one."

"My visiting card!" she said, with an expression of blank wonderment. "Well, even if that is true, it doesn't

This seemed to promise light at last. Somehow I couldn't doubt her assertion that it was not her bag, and yet

the thought suddenly occurred to me if she were clever enough to be implicated in the Crawford tragedy, and

if she had left her bag there, she would be expecting this inquiry, and would probably be clever enough to

"Mrs. Purvis, since you say it is not your bag, I'm going to ask you, in the interests of justice, to help me all

"A crime has been committed in a small town in New Jersey. A goldlink bag was afterward discovered at

the scene of the crime, and though none of its other contents betokened its owner, a visiting card with your

Becoming interested in the story, Mrs. Purvis seemed to get over her fright, and was exceedingly sensible for

"It certainly is not my bag, Mr. Burroughs, and if my card is in it, I can only say that I must have given that

Mrs. Purvis smiled. "So many of your American women carry those bags," she said; "they seem to be almost

universal this year. I have probably given my card to a score of ladies, who immediately put it into just such a

"No, indeed;" and Mrs. Purvis almost laughed outright, at what was doubtless a foolish question.

"I don't really see how I can," she replied. "You see I have so many friends in New York, and they make little

parties for me, or afternoon teas. Then I meet a great many American ladies, and we often exchange cards.

But we do it so often that of course I can't remember every particular instance. Have you the card you speak

I thanked my stars that I had been thoughtful enough to obtain the card before leaving West Sedgwick, and

"Oh, that one !" she said; "perhaps I can help you a little, Mr. Burroughs. That is an oldfashioned card, one

of a few left over from an old lot. I have been using them only lately, because my others gave out. I have

really gone much more into society in New York than I had anticipated, and my cards seemed fairly to melt

away. I ordered some new ones here, but before they were sent to me I was obliged to use a few of these

oldfashioned ones. I don't know that this would help you, but I think I can tell pretty nearly to whom I gave

It seemed a precarious sort of a chance, but as I talked with Mrs. Purvis, I felt more and more positive that

she herself was not implicated in the Crawford case. However, it was just as well to make certain. She had

gone to her writingdesk, and seemed to be looking over a diary or engagement book.

"Mrs. Purvis," I said, "will you tell me where you were on Tuesday evening of last week?"

"Certainly;" and she turned back the leaves of the book. "I went to a theatre party with my friends, the

Hepworths; and afterward, we went to a little supper at a restaurant. I returned here about midnight. Must I

prove this?" she added, smiling; "for I can probably do so, by the hotel clerk and by my maid. And, of course,

"No, you needn't prove it," I answered, certain now that she knew nothing of the Crawford matter; "but I hope

"Why, I remember that very night, I gave my cards to two ladies who were at the theatre with us; and I

remember now that at that time I had only these oldfashioned cards. I was rather ashamed of them, for

Americans are punctilious in such matters; and now that I think of it, one of the ladies was carrying a

"Who was she?" I asked, hardly daring to hope that I had really struck the trail.

"I can't seem to remember her name, but perhaps it will come to me. It was rather an English type of name,

"I haven't the slightest idea. You see I meet these ladies so casually, and I really never expect to see any of

them again. Our exchange of cards is a mere bit of formal courtesy. No, I can't remember her name, or where

Truly it was hard to come so near getting what might be vital information, and yet have it beyond my grasp!

It was quite evident that Mrs. Purvis was honestly trying to remember the lady's name, but could not do so.

And then I had what seemed to me an inspiration. "Didn't she give you her card?" I asked.

A light broke over Mrs. Purvis's face. "Why, yes, of course she did! And I'm sure I can find it."

She turned to a cardtray, and rapidly running over the bits of pasteboard, she selected three or four.

"Here they are," she exclaimed, "all here together. I mean all the cards that were given me on that particular

evening. And here is the name I couldn't think of. It is Mrs. Cunningham. I remember distinctly that she

carried a gold bag, and no one else in the party did, for we were admiring it. And here is her address on the

I almost fainted, myself, with the suddenness of the discovery. Had I really found the name and address of the

owner of the gold bag? Of course there might be a slip yet, but the evidence seemed clear that Mrs.

Cunningham, of Marathon Park, owned the bag that had been the subject of so much speculation

I had no idea where Marathon Park might be, but that was a mere detail. I thanked Mrs. Purvis sincerely for

the help she had given me, and I was glad I had not told her that her casual acquaintance was perhaps

As he had promised, Parmalee met me at the station, and I told him the whole story, for I thought him entitled

"Why, man alive!" he exclaimed, "Marathon Park is the very next station to West Sedgwick!"

"So it is!" I said; "I knew I had a hazy idea of having seen the name, but the trains I have taken to and from

New York have been expresses, which didn't stop there, and I paid no attention to it."

"It's a small park," went on Parmalee, "of swagger residences; very exclusive and reserved, you know. You've

certainly unearthed startling news, but I can't help thinking that it will be a wild goose chase that leads us to

"No, I wouldn't do that," said Parmalee, who had a sort of plebeian hesitancy at the thought of intruding upon

aristocratic strangers. "Suppose you write her a letter and just ask her if she has lost her bag."

"All right," I conceded, for truth to tell, I greatly preferred to stay in West Sedgwick than to go out of it, for I

So I wrote a letter, not exactly curt, but strictly formal, asking Mrs. Cunningham if she had recently lost a

Then Parmalee and I agreed to keep the matter a secret until we should get a reply to this, for we concluded

there was no use in stirring up public curiosity on the matter until we knew ourselves that we were on the

The next day I received a letter addressed in modish, angular penmanship, which, before I opened it, I felt

Dear Sir: Yes, I have lost a gold bag, and I have known all along that it is the one the newspapers are talking

so much about in connection with the Crawford case. I know, too, that you are the detective on the case, and

though I can't imagine how you did it, I think it was awfully clever of you to trace the bag to me, for I'm sure

my name wasn't in it anywhere. As I say, the bag is mine, but I didn't kill Mr. Crawford, and I don't know

who did. I would go straight to you, and tell you all about it, but I am afraid of detectives and lawyers, and I

don't want to be mixed up in the affair anyway. But I am going to see Miss Lloyd, and explain it all to her,

and then she can tell you. Please don't let my name get in the papers, as I hate that sort of prominence.

I smiled a little over the femininity of the letter, but as Parmalee had prophesied, Marathon Park was

The foolish little woman who had written that letter, had no guilty secret on her conscience, of that I was

"It doesn't help us in one way," he said, "for of course, Mrs. Cunningham is not implicated. But the bag is still

"He's not the criminal, either. If he had left his wife's bag there, he never would have let her send this letter."

"Oh, perhaps lots of things! But I am anxious to learn what Mrs. Cunningham tells Miss Lloyd."

"Not this morning; I've another engagement. And besides, the little lady won't get around so soon."

"Oh, the whole tone of the letter seems to imply a little yellowhaired butterfly of a woman."

"Yes; no one could imagine Miss Lloyd writing a letter like that. There's lots of personality in a woman's

Parmalee went away, and prompted by his suggestions, I studied the letter I had just received. It was merely

an idle fancy, for if Mrs. Cunningham was going to tell Miss Lloyd her story, it made little difference to me

what might be her stature or the color of her hair. But, probably because of Parmalee's suggestion, I pictured

her to myself as a pretty young woman with that air of half innocence and half ignorance which so well

The broad veranda of the Sedgwick Arms was a pleasant place to sit, and I had mused there for some time,

when Mr. Carstairs came out to tell me that I was asked for on the telephone. The call proved to be from

Only too glad to obey this summons, I went directly to the Crawford house, wondering if any new evidence

Lambert opened the door for me, and ushered me into the library, where Florence was receiving a lady caller.

"Mrs. Cunningham," said Florence, as I entered, "may I present Mr. Burroughs Mr. Herbert Burroughs. I

sent for you," she added, turning to me, "because Mrs. Cunningham has an important story to tell, and I

Mrs. Cunningham was a pretty, frivolouslooking woman, with appealing blue eyes, and a manner

I smiled involuntarily to see how nearly her appearance coincided with the picture in my mind, and I greeted

"I know I've done very wrong," she began, with a nervous little flutter of her pretty hands; "but I'm ready now

"Let us hear your confession, Mrs. Cunningham; I doubt if it's a very dreadful one."

"I've no idea," she replied, and I could see that her shallow nature fairly exulted in the sensation she was

creating. "I went to New York that night, to the theatre, and I carried my gold bag, and I left it in the train

"Yes. And when I got out of the train I was with my husband and some other people we had been to a

little theatre party I missed the bag. But I didn't tell Jack, because I knew he'd scold me for being so

careless. I thought I'd get it back from the Lost and Found Department, and then, the very next day, I read in

the paper about the the awful accident, and it told about a gold bag being found here."

"Of course; for the paper described everything in it even to the cleaner's advertisement that I'd just cut out

"Oh, Mr. Burroughs, you must know why I didn't! Why, I was scared 'most to death to read the accounts of

the terrible affair; and to mix in it, myself ugh! I couldn't dream of anything so horrible."

It was absurd, but I had a desire to shake the silly little bundle of femininity who told this really important

"Well, I kept it secret as long as I could, but yesterday Jack saw that I had something on my mind. I couldn't

"So I told him all about it, and he said I must come at once and tell Miss Lloyd, because, you see, they

"Yes," I said gravely; "it would have been better if you had come at first, with your story. Have you any one

The blue eyes regarded me with an injured expression. Then she brightened again.

"Oh, yes, I can `prove property'; that's what you mean, isn't it? I can tell you which glove finger is ripped, and

just how much money is in the bag, and and here's a handkerchief exactly like the one I carried that night.

Jack said if I told you all these things, you'd know it's my bag, and not Miss Lloyd's."

Mrs. Cunningham thought for a moment. Then, "Oh, yes!" she exclaimed. "Mrs. Purvis gave me her card,

and I tucked it in the pocket of the bag. Was that the way you discovered the bag was mine? And how did

"I'll tell you about that some other time if you wish, Mrs. Cunningham; but just now I want to get at the

important part of your story. How did your gold bag get in Mr. Crawford's office?"

"Ah, how did it?" The laughing face was sober now and she seemed appalled at the question. "Jack says some

one must have found it in the carseat where I left it, and he" she lowered her voice "he must be the "

"The murderer," I supplied calmly. "It does look that way. You have witnesses, I suppose, who saw you in

"Mercy, yes! Lots of them. The train reaches Marathon Park at 12: 50, and is due here at one o'clock. Ever so

many people got out at our station. There were six in our own party, and others besides. And the conductor

It was impossible to doubt all this. Further corroboration it might be well to get, but there was not the

"I thank you, Mrs. Cunningham," I said, "for coming to us with your story. You may not be able to get your

bag today, but I assure you it will, be sent to you as soon as a few inquiries can be made. These are merely

for the sake of formalities, for, as you say, your fellow townspeople can certify to your presence on the train,

"Yes," she replied; "and" she handed me a paper "there's my husband's address, and his lawyer's address,

and the addresses of all the people that were in our party that night. Jack said you might like to have the list.

He would have come himself today, only he's fearfully busy. And I said I didn't mind coming alone, just to

see Miss Lloyd. I wouldn't have gone to a jury meeting, though. And I'm in no hurry for the bag. In fact, I

don't care much if I never get it. It wasn't the value of the thing that made me come at all, but the fear that my

bag might make trouble for Miss Lloyd. Jack said it might. I don't see how, myself, but I'm a foolish little

thing, with no head for business matters." She shook her head, and gurgled an absurd little laugh, and then,

It was astonishing how rapidly our acquaintance had progressed. Already we had laid aside all formality of

speech and manner, and if the girl had not really discovered my mental attitude toward her, at least I think she

"Of course," I began, "I knew it wasn't your bag, because you said it wasn't. But I did incline a little to the

`woman visitor' theory, and now that is destroyed. I think we must conclude that the bag was brought here by

"Why didn't that person turn it over to the conductor?" she said, more as if thinking to herself than speaking

"Yes, why, indeed?" I echoed. "And if he brought it here, and committed a criminal act, why go away and

I think it was at the same moment that the minds of both of us turned to Gregory Hall. Her eyes fell, and as

If the late newspaper had seemed to point to Hall's coming out on that late train, how much more so this bag,

We were silent for a time, and then, lifting her sweet eyes bravely to mine, Florence said

"Yes," I replied, crushing down the longing to take her in my arms and let her tell it there.

"Mr. Hall had a talk with me this morning. He says that he and the others have searched everywhere possible

for the will, and it cannot be found. He says Uncle Joseph must have destroyed it, and that it is practically

settled that Uncle Philip is the legal heir. Of course, Mr. Philip Crawford isn't my uncle, but I have always

"What else did Mr. Hall say?" I asked, for I divined that the difficult part of her recital was yet to come.

"He said," she went on, with a rising color, "that he wished me to break our engagement."

I will do myself the justice to say that although my first uncontrollable thought was one of pure joy at this

revelation, yet it was instantly followed by sympathy and consideration for her.

"He says," she continued, with a note of weariness in her voice, "that he is not a rich man, and cannot give me

the comforts and luxuries to which I have been accustomed, and that therefore it is only right for him to

"Of course you didn't accept his generous sacrifice," I said; and my own hopes ran riot as I listened for her

"I told him I was willing to share poverty with him," she said, with a quiet dignity, as if telling an impersonal

She gave me that look which always rebuked me always put me back in my place but which, it seemed to

me, was a little less severe than ever before. "It's left undecided for a day or two," she said. Then she added

"I must see if he needs me. Do you suppose this story of Mrs. Cunningham's will in any way well, affect

"It may," I replied truthfully. "At any rate, he must be made to tell where he was and what he was doing

Florence hesitated a moment, looked at me in a way I could not fathom, and then, but only after a little

It was impossible to believe her. No one would show such emotion, such difficulty of speech, if telling a

simple truth. Yet when I looked in her troubled eyes, and read there anxiety, uncertainty, and misery, I only

loved her more than ever. Truly it was time for me to give up this case. Whatever turn it took, I was no fit

person to handle clues or evidence which filled me with deadly fear lest they turn against the one I loved.

And yet that one, already suspected by many, had been proved to have both motive and opportunity.

And I, I who loved her, knew that, in one instance, at least, she had been untruthful.

I looked at her again, steadily but with a meaning in my glance that I hoped she would understand. I wanted

her to know, that though of course justice was my end and aim, yet I was sure the truth could not implicate

I think she appreciated my meaning, for the troubled look in her own eyes disappeared, and she seemed

"Of course you know," I said gently, "that I want to believe all you say to me. But, Miss Lloyd, your naturally

truthful nature so rebels at your unveracity, that it is only too plain to be seen when you are not telling the

truth. Now, I do not urge you, but I ask you to tell me, confidentially if you choose, what your surmise is as

"It is only a surmise," she said, and though the troubled look came back to her eyes, she looked steadily at

me. "And I have no real reason even to think it, but I can't help feeling that Gregory is interested in some

Again I felt that uncontrollable impulse of satisfaction at this disclosure, and again I stifled it. I endeavored to

treat the matter lightly. "Is that all?" I asked; "do you mean that perhaps Mr. Hall was calling on some other

"Yes, that is what I do mean. And, as I say, I hare no real reason to think it. But still, Mr. Burroughs, if it

were true, I cannot agree with you that it is unimportant. Surely a man is not expected to call on one woman

I thoroughly agreed with her, and my opinion that Hall was a cad received decided confirmation.

"My treating it as a light matter, Miss Lloyd, was not quite sincere. Indeed, I may as well confess that it was

She looked up, startled at this, but as my eyes told her a certain truth I made no effort to conceal, she looked

I pulled myself together. "Don't think I am taking advantage of your confidence," I said gently; "I want only

to help you. Please consider me an impersonal factor, and let me do all I can for you. For the moment, let us

suppose your surmise is correct. This would, of course, free Mr. Hall from any implication of crime."

"Yes, and while I can't suspect him of anything like crime, I hate, also, to suspect him of disloyalty to me."

Her head went up with a proud gesture, and I suddenly knew that the thought of Hall's interest in another

woman, affected her pride and her sense of what was due her, far more than it did her heart. Her fear was not

so much that Hall loved another woman, as that his secrecy in the matter meant a slight to her own dignified

"I understand, Miss Lloyd, and I hope for the sake of all concerned, your surmise is not correct. But, with

your permission, I feel it my duty to discover where Mr. Hall was that evening, even if to do this it is

She shuddered at this. "It is so horrid," she said, "to spy upon a gentleman's movements, if he is only engaged

"If we were, sure of that, we need not spy upon him. But to the eye of justice there is always the possibility

that he was not about his personal affairs that evening, but was here in West Sedgwick."

"You don't really suspect him, do you?" she said; and she looked at me as if trying to read my very soul.

"I'm afraid I do," I answered gravely; "but not so much from evidence against him, as because I don't know

As was my duty I went next to the district attorney's office to tell him about Mrs. Cunningham and the gold

bag, and to find out from him anything I could concerning Gregory Hall. I found Mr. Porter calling there, and

both he and Mr. Goodrich welcomed me as a possible bringer of fresh news. When I said that I did know of

"I dare say I've no business here," he said; "but you know the deep interest I take in this whole matter. Joseph

Crawford was my lifelong friend and near neighbor, and if I can be in any way instrumental in freeing

"Excuse me, Mr. Porter; no one has as yet voiced a suspicion against Miss Lloyd. For you to put such a

The older man looked at me indulgently, and I think his shrewd perceptions told him at once that I was more

"It is," broke in Mr. Goodrich, "and if you will stay, Mr. Porter, I shall be glad to have you listen to whatever

I practically echoed the district attorney's words, for I knew Lemuel Porter to be a clearheaded and

So it was to two very interested hearers that I related first the story of Florence's coming downstairs at eleven

o'clock on the fatal night, for a final endeavor to gain her uncle's consent to her betrothal.

"To my mind," said the district attorney slowly, "this story, told now by Miss Lloyd, is in her favor. If the girl

were guilty, or had any guilty knowledge of the crime, she would not have told of this matter at all. It was not

"She told it," said I, "because she wished to take the responsibility of the fallen rose petals upon herself. Since

we are speaking plainly, I may assure you, gentlemen, that she told of her later visit to the office because I

"Then," said Mr. Goodrich triumphantly, "she herself suspects Mr. Hall, which proves that she is innocent."

"Nor does it prove that she suspects Mr. Hall," I added. "It merely shows that she fears others may suspect

"It is," I agreed, "and that is why I wish to send for the famous detective, Fleming Stone."

"Stone! Nonsense!" exclaimed Mr. Goodrich. "I have every confidence in your skill, Mr. Burroughs; I would

"Surely not," agreed Mr. Porter. "If you need help, Mr. Burroughs, confer with our local man, Mr. Parmalee.

He's a pretty clever chap, and I don't know why you two don't work more together."

"We do work together," said I. "Mr. Parmalee is both clever and congenial, and we have done our best in the

matter. But the days are going by and little of real importance has been discovered. However, I haven't told

Of course there were exclamations of surprise at this, but realizing its importance they quietly listened to my

With scarcely a word of interruption from my hearers, I told them how I had found the card in the bag, how I

had learned about Mrs. Purvis from headquarters, how I had gone to see her, and how it had all resulted in

"Well!" exclaimed Mr. Porter, as I concluded the narrative. "Well! Of all things! Well, I am amazed! Why,

this gives a wide scope of possibilities. Scores of our people come out on that theatre train every night."

"But not scores of people would have a motive for putting Joseph Crawford out of the way," said Mr.

Then, by way of a trump card, I told them of the, "extra " edition of the evening paper I had found in the

"How it all fits in!" he cried. "The bag, known to be from that late train; the paper, known to have been

bought late in New York! Burroughs, you're a wonder! Indeed, we don't want any Fleming Stone, when you

I stared at him. Nothing I had done seemed to me "clever sleuthing," nor did my simple discoveries seem to

"I don't like it," said Mr. Goodrich, at last. "Everything so far known, both early and late information, seems

"But you said," I interrupted, "that Miss Lloyd's confession that she did go downstairs late at night was in

"I said that before I knew about this bag story. Now I think the case is altered, and the two who had real

"But they had no motive," said Mr. Porter, "since Florence doesn't inherit the fortune."

"But they thought she did," explained the district attorney, "and so the motive was just as strong. Mr.

Burroughs, I wish you would confer with Mr. Parmalee, and both of you set to work on the suggestions I

have advanced. It is a painful outlook, to be sure, but justice is inexorable. You agree with me, Mr. Porter?"

"I do and I don't," he said. "Personally, I think both those young people are innocent, but if I am correct, no

harm will be done by a further investigation of their movements on Tuesday night. I think Mr. Hall ought to

tell where he was that night, if only in selfdefense. If he proves he was in New York, and did not come out

here, it will not only clear him, but also Florence. For I think no one suspects her of anything more than

Of course I had no mind to tell these men what Florence had told me confidentially about Mr. Hall's possible

occupation Tuesday evening. They were determined to investigate that very question, and so, if her surmise

"Very well," I said, after listening to a little further discussion, which was really nothing but repetition, "then

I will consult with Mr. Parmalee, and we will try to make further investigation of Mr. Hall's doings. But I'm

ready to admit that. it does not look easy to me to discover anything of importance. Mr. Hall is a secretive

man, and unless we have a definite charge against him it is difficult to make him talk."

"Well, you can certainly learn something," said Mr. Goodrich. "At any rate devote a few days to the effort. I

have confidence in you, Mr. Burroughs, and I don't think you need call in a man whom you consider your

superior. But if you'll excuse me for making a suggestion, let me ask you to remember that a theory of Hall's

guilt also possibly implicates Miss Lloyd. You will probably discover this for yourself, but don't let your

natural chivalry toward a woman, and perhaps a personal element in this case, blind you to the facts."

Although he put it delicately, I quite understood that he had noticed my personal interest in Florence Lloyd,

and so, as it was my duty to disregard that interest in my work, I practically promised to remember his

It was then that I admitted to myself the true state of my mind. I felt sure Florence was innocent, but I knew

appearances were strongly against her, and I feared I should bungle the case because of the very intensity of

my desire not to. And I thought that Fleming Stone, in spite of evidence, would be able to prove what I felt

However, I had promised to go on with the quest, and I urged myself on, with the hope that further

developments might clear Florence, even if they more deeply implicated Gregory Hall.

I went back to the inn, and spent some time in thinking over the matter, and methodically recording my

conclusions. And, while I thought, I became more and more convinced that, whether Florence connived or

not, Hall was the villain, and that he had actually slain his employer because he had threatened to disinherit

Perhaps when Hall came to the office, late that night, Mr. Crawford was already engaged in drawing up the

new will, and in order to purloin it Hall had killed him, not knowing that the other will was already

destroyed. And destroyed it must be, for surely Hall had no reason to steal or suppress the will that favored

Such talks as I had had with him so far, had been interrupted and unsatisfactory. Now I would see him alone,

I found him, as I had expected, in the office of his late employer. He was surrounded with papers, and was

evidently very busy, but he greeted me with a fair show of cordiality, and offered me a chair.

"I want to talk to you plainly, Mr. Hall," I said, "and as I see you're busy, I will be as brief as possible."

"I've been expecting you," said he calmly. "In fact, I'm rather surprised that you haven't been here before."

"Only because the inquiries made at the inquest amounted to very little, and I assumed you would question all

"I'm not sure that's necessary," I responded, following his example in adopting a light, casual tone. "I have no

reason to suspect that the servants told other than the exact truth. I have talked to both the ladies, and now

"Have you nailed the criminal?" he asked, with a greater show of interest than he had before evinced.

"In your direction," I said, willing to try what effect bluntness might have upon this composed young man.

"Evidences are painting toward you as the criminal," I said, determined to disturb his composure if I could.

Instead of showing surprise or anger, he gave a slight smile, as one would at an idea too ridiculous to be

entertained for an instant. Somehow, that smile was more convincing to me than any verbal protestation

Then I realized that the man was doubtless a consummate actor, and he had carefully weighed the value of

"When did you first learn of the accident to the Atlantic liner, the North America?"

"I suppose you mean that question for a trap," he said coolly; "but I haven't the least objection to answering it.

Really, there was little use in questioning this man. If he had bought his paper at halfpast eleven, as I felt

positive he did, and if he had come out to Sedgwick on the twelve o'clock train, he was quite capable of

"Excuse me, Mr. Hall, but I am obliged to ask you some personal questions now. Are you engaged to Miss

His continued requests for me to repeat my questions irritated me beyond endurance. Of course it was a bluff

"No, I think not," he said slowly. "She wants to break it off, and I, as a poor man, should not stand in the way

of her making a brilliant marriage. She has many opportunities for such, as her uncle often told me, and I

should be selfish indeed, now that she herself is poor, to hold her to her promise to me."

The hypocrite! To lay on Florence the responsibility for breaking the engagement. Truly, she was well rid of

"But she is not so poor," I said. "Mr. Philip Crawford told me he intends to provide for her amply. And I'm

"Then Florence and I may be happy yet," he said; and as I looked him straight in the eye, he had the grace to

look ashamed of himself, and, with a rising color, he continued: "I hope you understand me, Mr. Burroughs.

No man could ask a girl to marry him if he knew that meant condemning her to comparative poverty."

"No, of course not," said I sarcastically. "Then I assume that, so far as you are concerned, your engagement

"By no means. In fact, I could not desert her just now, when there is a well, a sort of a cloud over her."

"Be silent! The gold bag has been claimed by its owner. But you are responsible for its presence in this room!

You, who brought it from the midnight train, and left it here! You, who also left the late city newspaper here!

Gregory Hall seemed to turn to stone as he listened to my words. He became white, then ashen gray. His

I pushed home my advantage. "And therefore, traced by these undeniable evidences, I know that you are the

slayer of Joseph Crawford. You killed your friend, your benefactor, your employer, in order that he might not

Though I had spoken in low tones, my own intense emotion made my words emphatic, and as I finished I was

For Hall's composure had returned; his face resumed its natural color; his eyes their normal expressionthat

"That is no answer to my accusations," I stormed. "I tell you of the most conclusive evidence against

yourself, and instead of any attempt to refute it you mildly remark, `you are insane.' It is you who are insane,

Mr. Hall, if you think you can escape arrest and trial for the murder of Joseph Crawford."

"Oh, I think I can," was his only answer, with that maddening little smile of his.

"Because you were here, and because you have too much wisdom to try to prove a false alibi."

He looked at me half admiringly, "You are right in that," he said. "It is extremely foolish for any one to fake

"You do, do you? Well, Mr. Burroughs, I don't pretend to misunderstand you for Miss Lloyd has told me

all about Mrs. Cunningham and her bag that she left in the train. But I will say this if you think I came out on

that midnight train, go and ask the conductor. He knows me, and as I often do come out on that train, he may

remember that I was not on it that night. And while you're about it, and since you consider that late

newspaper a clue, also ask him who was on the train that might have come here afterward."

If this was bluffing, it was a very clever bluff, and magnificently carried out. Probably his hope was that the

conductor could not say definitely as to Hall's presence on the late train, and any other names he might

"Mr. Hall," I began, "I am not unfriendly. In fact, for Miss Lloyd's sake as well as your own, I should like to

"I know that," he said quickly. "Don't think I can't see through your `friendliness ' to Miss Lloyd! But be

careful there, Mr. Burroughs. A man does 'not allow too many `friendly' glances toward the girl he is engaged

So he had discovered my secret! Well, perhaps it was a good thing. Now I could fight for Florence more

"You are right, Mr. Hall," I went on. "I hold Miss Lloyd in very high esteem, and I assure you, as man to

man, that so long as you and she are betrothed, neither of you will have cause to look on me as other than a

I went away soon after that, and without quizzing him any further, for, though I still suspected him, I realized

The theory that the criminal was some one who came in on that midnight train was plausible indeed; but what

Why, a total stranger to Sedgwick might have come and gone, entirely unobserved, in the crowd.

It was with little hope, therefore, that I arranged for an interview with the conductor of the train.

He lived in Hunterton, a few stations from West Sedgwick, and, after ascertaining by telephone that he could

"Well, no," he replied, after thinking over my query a bit; "I don't think Mr. Hall came out from New York

that night. I'm 'most sure he didn't, because he usually gives me his newspaper as he steps off the train, and I

Of course this wasn't positive proof that Hall wasn't there, so I asked ham to tell me all the West Sedgwick

"Those Marathon Park people? Oh, yes. They were a gay party, coming back from a theatre supper, I

suppose. And that reminds me: Philip Crawford sat right behind the Cunninghams. I forgot him before. Well,

I went away not much the wiser, but with a growing thought that buzzed in my brain.

It was absurd, of course. But he had said Philip Crawford had sat right behind Mrs. Cunningham. How, then,

could he help seeing the gold bag she left behind, when she got out at the station just before West Sedgwick?

Indeed, who else could have seen it but the man in the seat directly behind? Even if some one else had picked

Moreover, why hadn't he said he was on that train? Why conceal such a simple matter? Again, who had

profited by the whole affair? And why had Gregory Hall said: "Ask the conductor who did get off that train?"

The rose petals were already explained by Florence. If, then, Philip Crawford had, much later, come to his

brother's with the gold bag and the late newspaper, and had gone away and left them there, and had never told

The enormity of suspecting Philip Crawford was so great, to my mind, that I went at once to the district

Mr. Goodrich listened to what I had to say, and then, when I waited for comment, said quietly:

"Do you know, Mr. Burroughs, I have thought all along that Philip Crawford was concealing something, but I

didn't think, and don't think now, that he has any guilty secret of his own. I rather fancied he might know

"It may be so," I returned, "but I can't see how that would make him conceal the fact of his having been on

that late train Tuesday night. Why, I discussed with him the possibility of Hall's coming out on it, and it

"Yes; there's that possibility. He may be shielding Hall for Miss Lloyd's sake and "

"Let's go to see him," suggested Mr. Goodrich. "I believe in the immediate following up of any idea we may

It was about five in the afternoon, an hour when we were likely to find Mr. Crawford at home, so we started

off at once, and on reaching his house we were told that Mr. Randolph was with him in the library, but that he

would see us. So to the library we went, and found Mr. Crawford and his lawyer hard at work on the papers

Perhaps it was imagination, but I thought I detected a look of apprehension on Philip Crawford's face, as we

entered, but he greeted us in his pleasant, simple way, and asked us to be seated.

"To come right to the point, Mr. Crawford," said the district attorney, " Mr. Burroughs and I are still

searching for new light on the tragedy of your brother's death. And now Mr. Burroughs wants to put a few

Philip Crawford looked straight at me with his piercing eyes, and it seemed to me that he straightened

So plain and straightforward was his manner, that I decided to be equally direct.

"Did you come out in that midnight train from New York last Tuesday night?" I began.

"While on the train did you sit behind a lady who left a gold bag in the seat when she got out?"

"Then, Mr. Crawford, as that is the gold bag that was found in your brother's office, I think you owe a more

To say that the lawyer and the district attorney, who heard these questions and answers, were astounded, is

To hear these condemning assertions straight from the lips of the man they incriminated was startling indeed.

"You are right," said Philip Crawford. "I do owe an explanation, and I shall give it here and now."

Although what he was going to say was doubtless a confession, Mr. Crawford's face showed an unmistakable

expression of relief. He seemed like a man who had borne a terrible secret around with him for the past week,

"This is a solemn confession," he said, turning to his lawyer, "and is made to the district attorney, with

"I am a criminal in the eyes of the law," said Mr. Crawford, in an impersonal tone, which I knew he adopted

to hide any emotion he might feel. "I have committed a dastardly crime. But I am not the murderer of my

We all felt our hearts lightened of a great load, for it was impossible to disbelieve that calm statement and the

"The story I have to tell will sound as if I might have been my brother's slayer, and this is why I assert the

Pausing here, Mr. Crawford unlocked the drawer of a desk and took out a small pistol, which he laid on the

"That," he said, "is my revolver, and it is the weapon with which my brother was killed."

I felt a choking sensation. Philip Crawford's manner was so far removed from a sensational or

melodramatic effect, that it was doubly impressive. I believed his statement that he did not kill his brother,

but what could these further revelations mean? Hall? Florence? Young Philip? Whom would Philip Crawford

"You are making strange declarations, Mr. Crawford," Said Lawyer Randolph, who was already whitefaced

"I know it," went on Philip Crawford, "and I trust you three men will hear my story through, and then take

"This pistol, as I said, is my property. Perhaps about a month ago, I took it over to my brother Joseph. He has

always been careless of danger, and as he was in the habit of sitting in his office until very late, with the long

windows open on a dark veranda, I often told him he ought to keep a weapon in his desk, by way of general

protection. Then, after there had been a number of burglaries in West Sedgwick, I took this pistol to him, and

begged him as a favor to me to let it stay in his desk drawer as a precautionary measure. He laughed at my

solicitude, but put it away in a drawer, the upper righthand one, among his business papers. So much for the

"Last Tuesday night I came out from New York on that midnight train that reaches West Sedgwick station at

one o'clock. In the train I did not notice especially who sat near me, but when I reached our station and

started to leave the car, I noticed a gold bag in the seat ahead. I picked it up, and, with a half formed

intention of handing it to the conductor, I left the train. But as I stepped off I did not see the conductor, and,

though I looked about for him, he did not appear, and the train moved on. I looked in the station, but the

ticket agent was not visible, and as the hour was so late I slipped the bag into my pocket, intending to hand it

over to the railroad authorities next morning. In fact, I thought little about it, for I was very much perturbed

over some financial considerations. I had been reading my newspaper all the way out, from the city. It was an

Here Mr. Crawford looked at me, as much as to say, "There's your precious newspaper clue," but his manner

was indicative only of sadness and grief; he had no cringing air as of a murderer.

"However, I merely skimmed the news about the steamer, so interested was I in they stock market reports. I

needn't now tell the details, but I knew that Joseph had a `corner' in X.Y. stock. I was myself a heavy investor

in it, and I began to realize that I must see Joseph at once, and learn his intended actions for the next day. If

he threw his stock on the market, there would be a drop of perhaps ten points and I should be a large loser, if,

indeed, I were not entirely wiped out. So I went from the train straight to my brother's home. When I reached

the gate, I saw there was a low light in his office, so I went round that way, instead of to the front door. As I

neared the veranda, and went up the steps, I drew from my overcoat pocket the newspaper, and, feeling the

gold bag there also, I drew that out, thinking to show it to Joseph. As I look back now, I think it occurred to

me that the bag might be Florence's; I had seen her carry one like it. But, as you can readily understand, I

gave no coherent thought to the bag, as my mind was full of the business matter. The French window was

Mr. Crawford paused here, but he gave way to no visible emotion. Ile was like a man with an inexorable duty

"Only the desk light was turned on, but that gave light enough for me to see my brother sitting dead in his

chair. I satisfied myself that he was really dead, and then, in a sort of daze, I looked about the room. Though I

felt benumbed and half unconscious, physically, my thoughts worked rapidly. On the desk before him I saw

An irrepressible exclamation from Mr. Randolph was the only sound that greeted this astonishing statement.

"Yes," and Mr. Crawford took a document from the same drawer whence he had taken the pistol; "there is

Mechanically, Mr. Randolph took the paper his client passed to him, and, after a glance at it, laid it on the

"That was my crime," said Philip Crawford solemnly, "and I thank God that I can confess it and make

restitution. I must have been suddenly possessed of a devil of greed, for the moment I saw that will, I knew

that if I took it away the property would be mine, and I would then run no danger of being ruined by my stock

speculations. I had a dim feeling that I should eventually give all, or a large part, of the fortune to Florence,

It was an honest confession of an awful crime. But under the spell of that strong, low voice, and the upright

bearing of that impressive figure, we could not, at the moment, condemn; we could only listen and wait.

"Then," the speaker proceeded, "I was seized with the terrific, unreasoning fear that I dare say always besets a

malefactor. I had but one thought, to get away, and leave the murder to be discovered by some one else. In a

sort of subconscious effort at caution, I took my pistol, lest it prove incriminating evidence against me, but in

my mad frenzy of fear, I gave no thought to the gold bag or the newspaper. I came home, secreted the will

and the revolver, and ever since I have had no doubts as to the existence of a hell. A thousand times I have

been on the point of making this confession, and even had it not been brought about as it has, I must have

given way soon. No mortal could stand out long under the pressure of remorse and regret that has been on me

this past week. Now, gentlemen, I have told you all. The action you may take in this matter must be of your

own choosing. But, except for the stigma of past sin, I stand again before the world, with no unconfessed

crime upon my conscience. I stole the will; I have restored it. But my hands are clean of the blood of my

brother, and I am now free to add my efforts to yours to find the criminal and avenge the crime.'

He had not raised his voice above those love, even tones in which he had started his recital; he had made no

bid for leniency of judgment; but, to a man, his three hearers rose and held out friendly hands to him as he

"Thank you," he said simply, as he accepted this mute token of our belief in his word. "I am gratified at your

kindly attitude, but I realize, none the less, what this will all mean for me. Not only myself but my innocent

family must share my disgrace. However, that is part of the wrongdoer's punishment that results fall not

"Mr. Goodrich," said Mr. Randolph, "I don't know how you look upon this matter from your official

viewpoint, but unless you deem it necessary, I should think that this confidence of Mr. Crawford's need never

be given to the public. May we not simply state that the missing will has been found, without any further

"I am not asking for any such consideration," said Philip Crawford. "If you decide upon such a course, it will

"Speaking personally," he said, at last, "I may say that I place full credence in Mr. Crawford's story. I am

entirely convinced of the absolute truth of all his statements. But, speaking officially, I may say that in a court

"Certainly they are," I agreed, "and I should like to make this suggestion: Believing, as we do, in Mr.

Crawford's story, it becomes important testimony in the case. Now, if it were made public, it would lose its

importance, for it would set ignorant tongues wagging, and give rise to absurd and untrue theories, and result

in blocking our bestmeant efforts. So I propose that we keep the matter to ourselves for a time say a week

or a fortnight keeping Mr. Crawford under surveillance, if need be. Then we can work on the case, with the

benefit of the suggestions offered by Mr. Crawford's revelations; and I, for one, think such benefit of

"That will do," said Mr. Goodrich, whose troubled face had cleared at my suggestion. "You are quite right,

Mr. Burroughs. And the `surveillance' will be a mere empty formality. For a man who has confessed as Mr.

Crawford has done, is not going to run away from the consequences of his confession."

"I am not," said Mr. Crawford. "And I am grateful for this respite from unpleasant publicity. I will take my

punishment when it comes, but I feel with Mr. Burroughs that more progress can be made if what I have told

It was Mr. Randolph who spoke. His legal mind had already gone ahead of the present occasion, and was

"Wait," said I. "If Mr. Crawford left the bag and the newspaper in the office, we have no evidence whatever

"Nor did he need to," said Mr. Goodrich, who was thinking rapidly. "He might have come on an earlier train,

or, for that matter, not by train at all. He may have come out from town in a motor car."

This was possible; but it did not seem to me probable. A motor car was a conspicuous way for a man to come

out from New York and return, if he wished to keep his visit secret. Still, he could have left the car at some

"Did Mr. Hall know that a revolver was kept in Mr. Crawford's desk drawer?" I asked.

"He did," replied Philip Crawford. "He was present when I took my pistol over to Joseph."

"Then," said Mr. Goodrich, "the case looks to me very serious against Mr. Hall. We have proved his motive,

his opportunity, and his method, or, rather, means, of committing the crime. Add to this his unwillingness to

tell where he was on Tuesday night, and I see sufficient justification for issuing a warrant for his arrest."

"I don't know," said Philip Crawford, "whether such immediate measures are advisable. I don't want to

influence you, Mr. Goodrich, but suppose we see Mr. Hall, and question him a little. Then, if it seems to you

"That is a good suggestion, Mr. Crawford," said the district attorney. " We can have a sort of court of inquiry

by ourselves, and perhaps Mr. Hall will, by his own words, justify or relieve our suspicions."

I went away from Mr. Crawford's house, and went straight to Florence Lloyd's. I did this almost

involuntarily. Perhaps if I had stopped to think, I might have realized that it did not devolve upon me to tell

her of Philip Crawford's confession. But I wanted to tell her myself, because I hoped that from her manner of

hearing the story I could learn something. I still believed that in trying to shield Hall, she had not yet been

entirely frank with me, and at any rate, I wanted to be the one to tell her of the important recent discovery.

When I arrived, I found Mr. Porter in the library talking with Florence. At first I hesitated about telling my

story before him, and then I remembered that he was one of the best of Florence's friends and advisers, and

moreover a man of sound judgment and great perspicacity. Needless to say, they were both amazed and

almost stunned by the recital, and it was some time before they could take in the situation in all its bearings.

We had a long, grave conversation, for the three of us were not influenced so much by the sensationalness of

this new development, as by the question of whither it led. Of course the secret was as safe with these two, as

"I understand Philip Crawford's action," said Mr. Porter, very seriously. "In the first place he was not quite

himself, owing to the sudden shock of seeing his brother dead before his eyes. Also the sight of his own

pistol, with which the deed had evidently been committed, unnerved him. It was an almost unconscious

nervous action which made him take the pistol, and it was a sort of subconscious mental working that

resulted in his abstracting the will. Had he been in full possession of his brain faculty, he could not have done

either. He did wrong, of course, but he has made full restitution, and his wrongdoing should not only be

I looked at Mr. Porter in unfeigned admiration. Truly he had expressed noble sentiments, and his must be a

Florence, too, gave him an appreciative glance, but her mind seemed to be working on the possibilities of the

"Then it would seem," she said slowly, "that as I, myself, was in Uncle's office at about eleven o'clock, and as

Uncle Philip was there a little after one o'clock, whoever killed Uncle Joseph came and went away between

"Yes," I said, and I knew that her thoughts had flown to Gregory Hall. "But I think there are no trains in and

"He need not have come in a train," said Florence slowly, as if simply voicing her thoughts.

"Don't attempt to solve the mystery, Florence," said Mr. Porter in his decided way. "Leave that for those who

make it their business. Mr. Burroughs, I am sure, will do all he can, and it is not for you to trouble your

already sad heart with these anxieties. Give it up, my girl, for it means only useless exertion on your part."

"And on my part too, I fear, Mr. Porter," I said. "Without wishing to shirk my duty, I can't help feeling I'm up

against a problem that to me is insoluble. It is my desire, since the case is baffling, to call in talent of a higher

Mr. Porter gave me a sudden glance, and it was a glance I could not understand. For an instant it seemed to

me that he showed fear, and this thought was instantly followed by the impression that he feared for Florence.

And then I chid myself for my foolish heart that made every thought that entered my brain lead to Florence

"No, no," he was saying, "we need no other or cleverer detective than you, Mr. Burroughs. If, as Florence

says, the murderer was clever enough to come between those two hours, and go away again, leaving no sign,

he is probably clever enough so to conceal his coming and going that he may not be traced."

Again that strange look came into his eyes. Surely it was an expression of fear. But he only said, "Then you're

the man to bring that result about, Mr. Burroughs. I have great confidence in your powers as a detective."

He took his leave, and I was not sorry, for I wanted an opportunity to see Florence alone.

"I am so sorry," she said, and for the first time I saw tears in her dear, beautiful eyes, "to hear that about

Uncle Philip. But Mr. Porter was right, he was not himself, or he never could have done it."

"It was an awful thing for him to find his brother as he did, and go away and leave him so."

"Awful, indeed! But the Crawfords have always been strange in their ways. I have never seen one of them

"Yes," she said, but her tone indicated that her fortune brought in its train many perplexing troubles and many

"Forgive me," I began, "if I am unwarrantably intrusive, but I must say this. Affairs are so changed now, that

new dangers and troubles may arise for you. If I can help you in any way, will you let me do so? Will you

confide in me and trust me, and will you remember that in so doing you are not putting yourself under the

She looked at me very earnestly for a moment, and then without replying directly to my questions, she said in

"Florence!" I cried; but even as she had spoken, she had gone softly out of the room, and with a quiet joy in

That afternoon I was summoned to Mr. Philip Crawford's house to be present at the informal court of inquiry

Hall was summoned by telephone, and not long after he arrived. He was cool and collected, as usual, and I

"We are pursuing the investigation of Mr. Joseph Crawford's death, Mr. Hall," the district attorney began,

"And I may as well tell you at the outset," went on Mr. Goodrich, a little irritated at the young man's attitude,

"That's just the point, sir. You say you were not here, but you refuse to say where you were. Now, wherever

you may have been that night, a frank admission of it will do you less harm than this incriminating

"In that case," said Hall easily, "I suppose I may as well tell you. But first, since you practically accuse me,

"Yes," said Mr. Goodrich coldly, disgusted at the plainly apparent mercenary spirit of the man; "yes, the will

of Mr. Joseph Crawford, which bequeaths the bulk of his estate to Miss Lloyd, is safe in Mr. Randolph's

possession. But that fact in no way affects your connection with the case, or our desire to learn where you

Bluffing again, thought I; and, truly, it seemed to me rather a clever way to gain time for consideration, and

The district attorney repeated his question, and now Gregory Hall answered deliberately

"I still refuse to tell you where I was. It in no way affects the case; it is a private matter of my own. I was in

New York City from the time I left West Sedgwick at six o'clock on Monday, until I returned the next

"Then we must assume you were engaged in some occupation of which you are ashamed to tell."

Hall shrugged his shoulders. "You may assume what you choose," he said. "I was not here, I had no hand in

"You knew Mr. Crawford kept a revolver in his desk. You must know it is not there now."

"I know nothing about that revolver," he said. "I saw it the day Mr. Philip Crawford brought it there, but I

This sounded honest enough, but if he were the criminal, he would, of course, make these same avowals.

"Well, Mr. Hall," said the district attorney, with an air of finality, "we suspect you. We hold that you had

motive, opportunity, and means for this crime. Therefore, unless you can prove an alibi for Tuesday night,

and bring witnesses to grove where you, were, we must arrest you, on suspicion, for the murder of Joseph

"I am innocent. But I persist in my refusal to allow intrusion on my private and personal affairs. Arrest me if

I can never explain it, even to myself, but something in the man's tone and manner convinced me, even

That evening I went to call on Florence Lloyd, though I had little hope that she would see me.

To my surprise, however, she welcomed me almost eagerly, and, though I knew she wanted to see me only

And yet her manner was far from impersonal. Indeed, she showed a slight embarrassment in my presence,

which, if I had dared, I should have been glad to think meant a growing interest in our friendship.

"Yes," she replied; "Mr. Hall was here for dinner, and then then he went away to "

"To prison," I finished quietly. "Florence, I cannot think he is the murderer of your uncle."

If she noticed this, my first use of her Christian name, she offered no remonstrance, and I went on

"To be sure, they have proved that he had motive, means, opportunity, and all that, but it is only indefinite

evidence. If he would but tell where he was on Tuesday night, he could so easily free himself. Why will he

"I don't know," she said, looking thoughtful. "But I cannot think he was here, either. When he said goodby

to me tonight, he did not seem at all apprehensive. He only said he was arrested wrongfully, and that he

"Yes, I do. And now that you are your uncle's heiress, I suppose he no longer wishes to break the engagement

I said this bitterly, for I loathed the nature that could thus turn about in accordance with the wheel of fortune.

"Yes," she said; "he insists now that we are engaged, and that he never rally wanted to break it. He has shown

me positively that it is my money that attracts him, and if it were not that I don't want to seem to desert him

She paused, and my heart beat rapidly. Could it be that at last she saw Gregory Hall as he really was, and that

his mercenary spirit had killed her love for him? At least, she had intimated this, and, forcing myself to be

"Gladly. I do not think he killed Uncle Joseph, but I'm sure I do not know who did. Do you?"

"I haven't the least idea," I answered honestly, for there, in Florence Lloyd's presence, gazing into the depths

of her clear eyes, my last, faint suspicion of her wrongdoing faded away. "And it is this total lack of

suspicion that makes the case so simple, and therefore so difficult. A more complicated case offers some

points on which to build a theory. I do not blame Mr. Goodrich for suspecting Mr. Hall, for there seems to be

Just then Mr. Lemuel Porter dropped in for an evening call. Of course, we talked over the events of the day,

and Mr. Porter was almost vehement in his denunciation of the sudden move of the district attorney.

"It's absurd," he said, "utterly absurd. Gregory Hall never did the thing. I've known Hall for years, and he isn't

that sort of a man. I believe Philip Crawford's story, of course, but the murderer, who came into the office

after Florence's visit to her uncle, and before Philip arrived, was some stranger from out of town some man

whom none of us know; who had some grievance against Joseph, and who deliberately came and went during

I agreed with Mr. Porter. I had thought all along it was some one unknown to the Sedgwick people, but some

one well known to Joseph Crawford. For, had it been an ordinary burglar, the victim would at least have

"Of course Hall will be set free at once," continued Mr. Porter, "but to arrest him was a foolish thing to do."

"Very well, then; make him prove it. Give him the third degree, if necessary, and find out where he was on

"I doubt if they could get it out of him," I observed, "if he continues determined not to tell."

"Then he deserves his fate," said Mr. Porter, a little petulantly. "He can free himself by a word. If he refuses

"But I'd like to help him," said Florence, almost timidly. "Is there no way I can do so, Mr. Burroughs?"

"Indeed there is," I said. "You are a rich woman now; use some of your wealth to employ the services of

"Nonsense!" said Mr. Porter. "It isn't necessary at all. Mr. Burroughs here, and young Parmalee, are all the

detectives we need. Get Hall to free himself, as he can easily do, and then set to work in earnest to run down

"No, Mr. Porter," said Florence, with firmness; "Gregory will not tell his secret, whatever it is. I know his

stubborn nature. He'll stay in prison until he's freed, as he is sure he will be, but he won't tell what he has

determined not to divulge. No, I am glad I can do something definite at last toward avenging Uncle Joseph's

death. Please send for Mr. Stone, Mr. Burroughs, and I will gladly pay his fees and expenses." Mr. Porter

expostulated further, but to no avail. Florence insisted on sending for the great detective.

He came two days later, and in the interval nothing further had been learned from Gregory Hall. The man was

an enigma to me. He was calm and impassive as ever. Courteous, though never cordial, and apparently

without the least apprehension of ever being convicted for the crime which had caused his arrest.

Indeed, he acted just as an innocent man would act; innocent of the murder, that is, but resolved to conceal

To me, it did not imply crime. Something he wished to conceal, certainly; but I could not think a criminal

would act so. A criminal is usually ready with an alibi, whether it can be proved or not.

When Fleming Stone arrived I met him at the station and took him at once to the inn, where I had engaged

We first had a long conversation alone, in which I told him, everything I knew concerning the murder.

"When did it happen?" he asked, for, though he had read some of the newspaper accounts, the date had

I told him, and added, "Why, I was called here just after I left you at the Metropolis Hotel that morning. Don't

you remember, you deduced a lot of information from a pair of shoes which were waiting to be cleaned?"

"And I tried to make similar deductions from the gold bag and the newspaper, but I couldn't do it. I bungled

matters every time. My deductions are mostly from the witnesses' looks or tones when giving evidence."

"Not necessarily on the stand. I've learned much from talking to the principals informally."

"Nowhere. I've suspected Florence Lloyd and Gregory Hall, in turn, and in collusion; but now I suspect

"If he is the murderer, he can't tell. A false alibi is so easily riddled. It's rather clever to keep doggedly silent;

"He won't give any reason. He has determined to keep up that calm, indifferent pose, and though it is

"Let me see; I believe the coroner said he telephoned first to Hall's club. But the steward said Hall didn't stay

there, as there was no vacant room, and that he had stayed all night at a hotel."

"I don't know, Stone; perhaps the coroner asked him, but if he did, I doubt if Hall told. It didn't seem to me

"Burroughs, my son, you should have learned every detail of Hall's doings that night."

"But if he were not in West Sedgwick, what difference could it possibly make where he was?"

"One never knows what difference anything will make until the difference is made. That's oracular, but it

I went on, and I even told him what Florence had told me concerning the possibility of Hall's interest in

"At last we are getting to it," said Stone; "why in the name of all good detectives, didn't you hunt up that

"Figments of the brains of engaged young ladies are apt to have a solid foundation of flesh and blood. I think

much could be learned concerning Mr. Hall's straying fancy. But tell me again about his attitude toward Miss

Fleming Stone was deeply interested as I rehearsed how, when Florence was supposed to be penniless, he

wished to break the engagement. When Philip Crawford offered to provide for her, Mr. Hall was uncertain;

but when the will was found, and Florence was known to inherit all her uncle's property, then Gregory Hall

"And he is now under arrest, calmly waiting for some one to prove his innocence, so he can marry the

"That's about the size of it," I said. "But I don't think Florence is quite as much in love with him as she was.

Perhaps an undue interest in my voice or manner disclosed to this astute man the state of my own affections,

for he gave me a quizzical glance, and said, "Oho! sits the wind in that quarter?"

"Yes," I said, determined to be frank with him. "It does. I want you, to free Gregory Hall, if he's innocent.

Then if, for any reason, Miss Lloyd sees fit to dismiss him, I shall most certainly try to win her affections. As

I came to this determination when she was supposed to be penniless, I can scarcely be accused of

"Indeed, you can't, old chap. You're not that sort. Well, let's go to see your district attorney and his precious

We went to the district attorney's office, and, later, accompanied by him and by Mr. Randolph, we visited

As I had expected, Mr. Hall wore the same unperturbed manner he always showed, and when Fleming Stone

was introduced, Hall greeted him coldly, with absolutely no show of interest in the man or his work.

Fleming Stone's own kindly face took on a slight expression of hauteur, as he noticed his reception, but he

I wondered whether this asking to have a remark repeated was merely a foolish habit of Hall's, or whether, as

Fleming Stone looked at him a little more sharply as he repeated his remark in clear, even tones.

"Thank you," said Hall, pleasantly enough. "I shall be glad to be free from this unjust suspicion."

"And as a bit of friendly advice," went on Stone, "I strongly urge that you, reveal to us, confidentially, where

"I said," he replied, "that the proof of your innocence might depend on your telling this secret of yours. But I

begin to think now you will be freed from suspicion whether you tell it or not."

Instead of looking glad at this assurance, Gregory Hall gave a start, and an expression of fear came into his

"Have you any letters in your pocket, Mr. Hall?" went on Fleming Stone in a suave voice.

With what seemed to be an unwilling but enforced movement, Mr. Hall drew four or five letters from his

"They've all been looked over, Mr. Stone," said the district attorney; "and they have no bearing on the matter

He ran over the lot carelessly, not taking the sheets from the envelopes, and returned them to their owner.

Gregory Hall looked at him as if fascinated. What revelation was this man about to make?

"Mr. Hall," Fleming Stone began, "I've no intention of forcing your secret from you. But I shall ask you some

questions, and you may do as you like about answering them. First, you refuse to tell where you were during

the night last Tuesday. I take it, you mean you refuse to tell how or where you spent the evening. Now, will

"I fail to see any reason for telling you," answered Hall, after a moment's thought. "I have said I was in New

"The reason you may as well tell us," went on Mr. Stone, "is because it is a very simple matter for us to find

out. You doubtless were at some hotel, and you went there because you could not get a room at your club. In

fact, this was stated when the coroner telephoned for you, the morning after the murder. I mean, it was stated

that the club bedrooms were all occupied. I assume, therefore, that you lodged at some hotel, and, as a

canvass of the city hotels would be a simple matter, you may as well save us that trouble."

"Oh, very well," said Gregory Hall sullenly; "then I did spend the night at a hotel. It was the Metropolis

"I have no doubt of it," said Stone pleasantly. "Now that you have told us this, have you any objection to

telling us at what time you returned to the hotel, after your evening's occupation, whatever it may have

"Eh?" said Hall abstractedly. He turned his head as he spoke, and Fleming Stone threw me a quizzical smile

"You may as well tell us," said Stone, after he had repeated his question, "for if you withhold it, the night

"Well," said Hall, who now looked distinctly sulky, "I don't remember exactly, but I think I turned in

"And as it was a late hour, you slept rather late next morning," suggested Stone.

"Mr. Hall," said Stone, suddenly facing him again, "are you deaf? Why do you ask to have remarks

Hall looked slightly apologetic. " I am a little deaf," he said; "but only in one ear. And only at times or,

"Or in damp weather?" said Stone. "Mr. Hall, I have questioned you enough. I will now tell these gentlemen,

since you refuse to do so, where you were on the night of Mr. Crawford's murder. You were not in West

Sedgwick, or near it. You are absolutely innocent of the crime or any part in it."

Gregory Hall straightened up perceptibly, like a man exonerated from all blame. But he quailed again, as

Fleming Stone, looking straight at him, continued: "You left West Sedgwick at six that evening, as you have

said. You registered at the Metropolis Hotel, after learning that you could not get a room at your club. And

then you went over to Brooklyn to meet, or to call on, a young woman living in that borough. You took her

back to New York to the theatre or some such entertainment, and afterward escorted her back to her home.

The young woman wore a street costume, by which I mean a cloth gown without a train. You did not have a

cab, but, after leaving the car, you walked for a rather long distance in Brooklyn. It was raining, and you were

At last Gregory Hall's calm was disturbed. He looked at Fleming Stone as at a supernatural being. And small

wonder. For the truth of Stone's statements was evident from Hall's amazement at them.

"No, I didn't see you; it is merely a matter of observation, deduction, and memory. You recollect the muddy

Did I recollect! Well, rather! And it certainly was a coincidence that we had chanced to examine those shoes

As for Mr. Randolph and the district attorney, they were quite as much surprised as Hall.

"Can you prove this astonishing story, Mr. Stone?" asked Mr. Goodrich, with an incredulous look.

"Oh, yes, in lots of ways," returned Stone. "For one thing, Mr. Hall has in his pocket now a letter from the

young lady. The whole matter is of no great importance except as it proves Mr. Hall was not in West

"But why conceal so simple a matter? Why refuse to tell of the episode?" asked Mr. Randolph.

"Because," and now Fleming Stone looked at Hall with accusation in his glance " because Mr. Hall is very

anxious that his fiancee shall not know of his attentions to the young lady in Brooklyn."

"Oho!" said Mr. Goodrich, with sudden enlightenment. "I see it all now. Is it the truth, Mr. Hall? Did you go

Gregory Hall fidgeted in an embarrassed way. But, unable to escape the piercing gaze of Stone's eyes, he

admitted grudgingly that the detective had told the truth, adding, "But it's wizardry, that's what it is! How

"I had reason for suspicion," said Stone; "and when I found you were deaf in your right ear, and that you had

in your pocket a letter addressed in a feminine hand, and postmarked `Brooklyn,' I was sure."

"It's all true," said Hall slowly. "You have the facts all right. But, unless you have had me shadowed, will you

And then Fleming Stone told of his observations and deductions when we noticed the muddied shoes at the

"But," he said, as he concluded, "when I hastily adjudged the young lady to be deaf in the left ear, I see now I

was mistaken. As soon as I realized Mr. Hall himself is deaf in the right ear, especially so in damp or wet

weather, I saw that it fitted the case as well as if the lady had been deaf in her left ear. Then a note in his

"But, Mr. Stone," said Lawyer Randolph, "it is very astonishing that you should make those deductions from

"It seems more remarkable than it really is, Mr. Randolph," was the response; "for I am continually observing

whatever comes to my notice. Hundreds of my deductions are never verified, or even thought of again; so it is

"Well," said the district attorney, "it seems wonderful to me. But now that Mr. Hall has proved his alibi, or,

rather, Mr. Stone has proved it for him, we must begin anew our search for the real criminal."

"One moment," said Gregory Hall. "As you know, gentlemen, I endeavored to keep this little matter of my

going to Brooklyn a secret. As it has no possible bearing on the case of Mr. Crawford, may I ask of you to

"For my part," said the district attorney, "I am quite willing to grant Mr. Hall's request. I have put him to

unnecessary trouble and embarrassment by having him arrested, and I shall be glad to do him this favor that

But Mr. Randolph seemed reluctant to make the required promise, and Fleming Stone looked at Hall, and

"I, for one, refuse to keep this revelation a secret. It was discovered by the detective engaged by Miss Lloyd.

Therefore, I think Miss Lloyd is entitled to the knowledge we have thus gained."

Mr. Randolph looked at me with approval. He was a good friend of Florence Lloyd, and he was of no mind to

Gregory Hall set his lips together in a way which argued no pleasant feelings toward me, but he said nothing

then. He was forthwith released from custody, and the rest of us separated; having arranged to meet that

Except the halfhour required for a hasty dinner, Fleming Stone devoted the intervening time to looking over

the reports of the coroner's inquest, and in asking me questions about all the people who were connected with

"Burroughs," he said at last, "every one who is interested in Joseph Crawford's death has suspected Gregory

Hall, except one person. Not everybody said they suspected him, but they did, all the same. Even Miss Lloyd

wasn't sure that Hall wasn't the criminal. Now, there's just one person who declares that Hall did not do it,

and that he is not implicated. Why should this person feel so sure of Hall's innocence? And, furthermore, my

boy, here are a few more important questions. In which drawer of the desk was the revolver kept?"

"No; merely lists and certain data referring to them. The certificates themselves were in the bank.

"In a drawer on the other side of the desk. I know all these things, because with the lawyer and Mr. Philip

"Well, then, Burroughs, let us build up the scene. Mr. Joseph Crawford, after returning from his lawyer's that

night, goes to his office. Naturally, he takes out his will, that he thinks of changing, and we'll say it is

lying on his desk when Mr. Lemuel Porter calls. He talks of other matters, and the will still lies there

unheeded. It is there when Miss Lloyd comes down later. She has said so. It remains there until much later

when Philip Crawford comes, and, after discovering that his brother is dead, sees the will still on the desk and

takes it away with him, and also sees the pistol on the desk, and takes that, too. Now, granting that the

murderer came between the time Miss Lloyd left the office and the time Philip Crawford came there, then it

was while the murderer was present that the drawer which held the pistol was opened, the pistol taken out,

and the murder committed, Since Mr. Joseph Crawford showed no sign of fear of violence, the murderer must

have been, not a burglar or an unwelcome intruder, but a friend, or an acquaintance, at least. His visit must

have been the reason for opening that drawer, and that not to get the pistol, but to look at or discuss the

papers contained in that drawer. The pistol, thus disclosed, was temptingly near the hand of the visitor, and,

for some reason connected with the papers in that drawer, the pistol was used by the visitor suddenly,

"Hush," he said, "I see it all now or almost all. Let us go to Philip Crawford's at once before it is time to

We did so, and Fleming Stone, in a short business talk with Mr. Crawford, learned all that he wanted to

Awaiting us were several people. The district attorney, of course, and Lawyer Randolph. Also Mr. Hamilton

and Mr. Porter, who had been asked to be present. Gregory Hall was there, too, and from his crestfallen

expression, I couldn't help thinking that he had had an unsatisfactory interview with Florence

He said: "I have come here at Miss Lloyd's request, to discover, if possible, the murderer of her uncle, Mr.

Joseph Crawford. I have learned the identity of the assassin, and, if you all wish me to, I will now divulge it."

"We do wish you to, Mr. Stone," said Mr. Goodrich, and his voice trembled a little, for he knew not where

the blow might fall. But after Fleming Stone's wonderful detective work in the case of Gregory Hall, the

Sitting quietly by the library table, with the eyes of all the company upon him, Fleming Stone said, in effect,

to them just what he had said to me. He told of the revolver in the drawer with the financial papers. He told

how the midnight visitor must have been some friend or neighbor, whose coming would in no way startle or

And then Fleming Stone turned suddenly to Lemuel Porter, and said: "Shall I go on, Mr. Porter, or will you

It was as if a thunderbolt had fallen. Hitherto unsuspected, the guilt of Lemuel Porter was now apparent

beyond all doubt. Whitefaced and shaking, his burning eyes glared at Fleming Stone.

"What are you?" he whispered, in hoarse, hissing tones. "I feared you, and I was right to fear you. I have

heard of you before. I tried to prevent your coming here, but I could not. And I knew, when you came, that I

"Yes," he went on, looking around at the startled faces. "Yes, I killed Joseph Crawford. If I had not, he would

have ruined me financially. Randolph knows that and Philip Crawford, too. I had no thought of murder in

my heart. I came here late that night to renew the request I had made in my earlier visit that evening that

Joseph Crawford would unload his X.Y. stock gradually, and in that way save me. I had overtraded; I had

pyramided my paper profits until my affairs were in such a state that a sudden drop of ten points would wipe

me out entirely. But Joseph Crawford was adamant to my entreaties. He said he would see to it that at the

opening of the market the next morning X.Y. stock should be hammered down out of sight. Details are

unnecessary. You lawyers and financial men understand. It was in his power to ruin or to save me and he

chose to ruin me. I know, why, but that concerns no one here. Then, as by chance, he moved a paper in the

drawer, and I saw the pistol. In a moment of blind rage I grasped it and shot him. Death was instantaneous.

Like one in a dream, I laid down the pistol, and came away. I was saved, but at what a cost! No one, I think,

saw me come or go. I was afterward puzzled to know what became of the pistol, and of the will which lay on

the desk when I was there. These matters have since been explained. Philip Crawford is as much a criminal as

I. I shot a man, but he robbed the dead. He has confessed and made restitution, so he merits no punishment.

In the nature of things, I cannot do that, but I can at least cheat the gallows."

"Too late. Goodby, all. If possible, do not let my wife know the truth. Can't you tell her I died of heart

The poison he had taken was of quick effect. Though a doctor was telephoned for at once, Mr. Porter was

Everything was now made clear, and Fleming Stone's work in West Sedgwick was done.

I was chagrined, for I felt that all he had discovered, I ought to have found out for myself.

But as I glanced at Florence, and saw her lovely eyes fixed on me, I knew that one reason I had failed in my

We went into the small drawingroom, and, unable to restrain my eagerness, I said

"Yes," she said, looking up shyly into my face. "I learned from his own lips the story of the Brooklyn girl.

Then I knew that he really loves her, but wanted to marry me for my fortune. This knowledge was enough for

"And you do love somebody else?" I whispered ecstatically. "Oh, Florence! I know this is not the time or the