ISABEL
OSTRANDER


KL 18.750


at











At One-Thirty









" Cain !"








At One-Thirty
A MYSTERY
BY
ISABEL OSTRANDER
Illustrations by
W. W. FAWCETT
NEW YORK
W. J. WATT & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS


LARVARD
Fi in cui
COLLEGE
LIBRARY
COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY
W. J. WATT & COMPANY


At One-Thirty





CONTENTS
CHAPTER
PAGE
I The PassiNG OF Garret APPLETON..
II The INSTRUMENT OF DEATH........ 22
III LIES..............................
IV The Sisters ...,
V “Cain!”...........
VI The Cuff-Link ..............
VII Thirty Pieces of Silver .........
VIII IN THE WATCHES OF THE Night.... 124
IX Doris. ........................... 138
X A New TURNING ..................
XI AT HANRAHAN's SUGGESTION........ 168
XII Devious Ways. ................... 185
XIII THE END OF A False Scent........
XIV A GLIMMER OF LIGHT...........
XV At Half-Past Four in the Morning
XVI NATALIE .......
261
...........................
XVII FAILURE AND VICTORY ............. 281
XVIII AFTERMATH.....................
....... 297
LIMMER





AT ONE-THIRTY
CHAPTER I
THE PASSING OF GARRET APPLETON
ISING from his chair, Damon Gaunt crossed
the library to the window, and flung it
wide, drinking in the sultry air of early
autumn as though he loved it, listening to the
familiar noises of the street with ears eagerly at-
tuned. Although, in passing, he had touched the
different articles of furniture in his path casually
and lightly, with those long, slim, wonderfully
sensitive fingers of his, it had been but absent-
mindedly, not gropingly hesitant, and it was not
until one looked straight and level into his
soft, deep-brown eyes that one realized they were
sightless. "
He sighed deeply as he stood at the window,
his fingertips touching delicately here and there
the trailing tendrils of ivy that reached out boldly
from the trellised vine, which clambered over the
brick walls of the house. No man loved life-
vibrant, pulsating life-more than Damon Gaunt,
nor more deeply yearned to know it to the full.
nor more
W


AT ONE-THIRTY
But he had never permitted himself to regret the
sight, which from birth had been denied to him,
save in his life-work, the detection of crime.
The man's condition and his career would seem
in themselves to be paradoxical. How a being
deprived of one of the senses-by the majority
considered the most essential-could engage, and
successfully, in a profession that required every
attribute, every resource, known to mankind, de-
veloped to the nth degree, seemed inexplicable.
Yet Damon Gaunt had never lost a case.
He turned suddenly from the window, and stood
expectant, although no sound audible to the normal
ear had broken the stillness within the house. In
a moment, however, a softly treading footfall
might have been heard on the carpeted hall;
there was a moment's hesitation, and then a quick
tap at the door, accompanied by an involuntary
deferential cough.
Damon Gaunt smiled slightly to himself. He
had never been able to break Jenkins of that un-
necessary note of warning.
“Come in!” he said.
Jenkins entered, with a small salver in his hand.
“Card, sir. Gentleman to see you."
Gaunt approached, and took the card from the
salver. The corners of his mobile, smooth-shaven
mouth twitched again. He had at least succeeded
in breaking Jenkins of the habit of shoving things
into his hand.


THE PASSING OF GARRET APPLETON
7
His fingertips traveled over the heavily engraved
card; but the lettering upon it was too elaborate
for his sense of touch to spell for him. He turned
to a large writing-desk in a corner.
“Miss Barnes, the name, please."
A tall, angular, precise young woman came for-
ward, and took the card from his hand.
“Mr. Yates Appleton.”
“Yates Appleton?” What was it that the name
seemed vaguely to convey? Oh, yes! Something
his secretary, Miss Barnes, had read to him in the
morning papers, lately. The man had tried unsuc-
cessfully to break a will, or something of the sort.
He must be looked up later, perhaps.
"Show him up, please, Jenkins.”
“Yes, sir.”
Without a word, Miss Barnes gathered up her
papers, and passed into an inner room, and Gaunt
seated himself in a deep leather chair, and waited.
Presently, returning footfalls could be heard-
Jenkin's regular, cat-like tread, and shorter, ner-
vous, uneven steps accompanying him. Both
paused at the door.
“Come in, Mr. Appleton. That will do, Jen-
kins. I'll ring if we need you.”
Mr. Appleton crossed the threshold, dropped the
cane he was carrying with a clatter upon the floor,
retrieved it, and stood before Gaunt's chair. He
was a man of perhaps the early thirties, slightly
thick of neck and girth, slightly bald, with a round,


AT ONE-THIRTY
vere
puffy pink face, and round, staring blue eyes. Just
now, the face was mask-like with horror, and the
eyes were telescoped, like those of a defunct crab;
but of these indications Gaunt was, of course, in
ignorance.
“Sit down, Mr. Appleton,” he said, composedly,
"and tell me what I can do for you."
Mr. Appleton laid his hat and stick upon the
writing-table, sniffing nervously as he did so, and
seated himself.
"Mr. Gaunt, I've come on a terrible affair. My
brother, Garret Appleton, was found dead this
morning, in his den, with a bullet in his heart!
He'd been murdered in the night!”
The young man shuddered, and licked his dry
lips, his nostrils twitching.
“Murdered! Did anyone hear the shot fired?”
"No. That's the strangest part of it, although
it's a huge house, and the servants all sleep away
up-stairs, above the rooms of the family and guests,
and the den is on the ground floor, at the back.
It's an awful thing Mr. Gaunt, awful! It's just
about going to kill my mother-the notoriety, and
all!”
“Notoriety! And-grief?”
"Oh, yes, grief, of course. That was what I
meant.” He sniffed again, as he spoke, and rubbed
his blunt, snout-like nose with his gloved finger.
“Was the weapon found?”
“No, certainly not! How would it be? It was


THE PASSING OF GARRET APPLETON
9
murder, I tell you-murder! The man-whoever
it was-carried the revolver away with him, of
course. The motive was robbery, that was plain-
the window was open and my brother's watch,
purse, and jewelry gone.” Mr. Appleton sniffed.
“My mother wanted me to come at once for you,
before the police get trying to rake up family
scandal. My car is outside"
"I understand. Very well, then, Mr. Appleton,
we will go at once." Gaunt rose, and pressed a
button in the wall. “ But just a word, first, be-
fore we start. I say this for your own good. You
will need all your wits about you, and all your
nerve, if I'm not mistaken. Take some disinterested
advice, and go a little light on that cocaine for the
next few days."
Young Mr. Appleton gave a violent start, and
drew in his breath sharply.
"I don't know what you mean!” he blustered.
“Your constant sniffing and rubbing your nose
gave you away,” Gaunt explained, quietly.
Mr. Appleton crumpled.
"Oh, well, it isn't a habit with me, anyway. I
started in my college days, just for a lark. I can
give it up whenever I want to, without the slightest
trouble in the world!”
"Then I should advise you to do so speedily.
Jenkins, my hat and coat.”
Speeding up-town in the fast motor, Gaunt
turned to his new client.


10
AT ONE-THIRTY
“Mr. Appleton, in undertaking your case, you
must know that I demand the absolute confidence
of those by whom I am employed. There must
be no retaining of facts, no half-measures. The
questions I ask must be answered, whether they
seem relevant or not, fully and truthfully, with no
reservations. Is that understood ?”
“Why, y-yes, of course, Mr. Gaunt; that goes
without saying. We want you to find out the
t-truth!”
“How many are there in the family—the im-
mediate family?”
"The household, you mean? My mother, my
brother and his wife, his wife's sister, and myself.
But my mother and I are staying there only tem-
porarily, while our own house is being done over.”
“That is all except the servants? No guests?”
“None staying in the house. There were some
people there last evening, old family friends.
The police are at the house, now," he added with
nervous irrelevance. “Infernal nuisance, this whole
terrible affair! My mother relies upon you to
prevent as much of the fuss and bother as you
can."
"The fuss and bother, as you term it, are, I am
forced to tell you, indispensable in a case of sudden
and violent death, from whatever cause-doubly
so when crime is in question. They are very
necessary to the cause of justice. Mr. Appleton,
you speak of the possibility of the police raking


THE PASSING OF GARRET APPLETON
11
up family scandal. What scandal is there for
them to discover?”
“None, really.” Mr. Appleton sniffed hastily.
“The only thing is, one doesn't care to have family
jars and unpleasantness brought to light. My
mother and I dislike-that is, we don't get on at
all with Garret's wife and her sister, and there have
been dissensions lately-rows, if you like that
better-which the police might try to make moun-
tains out of. That's all. Every family has that
sort of thing-rows. But the police are so stupid
they might try to look beyond the very obvious
cause."
“I understand, perfectly. By whom was the
body discovered, and when?”
“At about half-past six this morning.” Mr.
Appleton replied to the last part of the question
first. “Katie, the housemaid, came down to
straighten the room, and found my brother lying
dead on the floor, and her screams aroused the
whole house."
“You awakened with the rest, and rushed down?”
“No-o. The fact is, Mr. Gaunt, I'm not a light
sleeper at any time, and I'd been out pretty late
last night. It was some time after Katie found
my brother's body before the commotion wakened
me, and quite awhile before. I roused from my
sleepy stupor enough to realize that something
unusual was going on. When I did get down-
stairs, I found all the household collected in the


12
AT ONE-THIRTY
den, and most of the servants crowded in the door-
way. Mother had sent for the doctor; but any-
one could have seen it would be of no use. Natalie,
my brother's wife, was in a state of collapse, and
Barbara, her sister, was attending her. Garret
was leaning back in his chair, with his face all
distorted and gray, and his eyes staring, and there
was a great splashing blood-stain on his shirt-
front. But I'll never forget the look on his face.
It was the most horrible I have ever seen.... Here
we are now, Mr. Gaunt,” he added, as the car slowed
down, and then stopped, with a jerk. “This way."
He led the detective swiftly through the lines
of police, sternly. holding back the curious rabble
of morbid sight-seers, up the great stone steps,
and the massive vestibule doors closed behind them.
There was a subdued, soundless stir, a tenseness
in the air of the silent house, which led unmistak-
ably in one direction, and was more acutely mani-
fest to the detective than to the drug-dulled per-
ceptions of his companion.
At the door of the den, they paused, and young
Mr. Appleton hung back, his breath coming in great
gasps, his hand clutching Gaunt's arm in a sud-
den, involuntary grip of nervous terror and dread,
only to be as quickly withdrawn.
"Mr. Gaunt! How does it happen that you
are here? I'm glad you've come.”
A man's step sounded, and a large, powerful hand
gripped the detective's in a hearty grasp.


THE PASSING OF GARRET APPLETON 13
“ Coroner Hildebrand!” Gaunt's exclamation of
pleasure at a well known voice, with a certain
admixture of relief at the scarcely expected presence
of a friend and former ally on more than one dif-
ficult case, was interrupted by a woman's voice
the coldest, most implacably hardened, that he had
ever heard.
"I sent for Mr. Gaunt, Coroner," the voice
said. “I wish him to represent my interests and
those of my family in this most shocking, most
terrible affair.” There was the rustle of a silk
garment, and the voice sounded again, this time
close to Gaunt's side. “I am Mrs. Appleton, Mrs.
Finlay Appleton, the mother,” The voice broke
oddly, and there was a strained silence. It was
not the break of emotion, of uncontrollable maternal
emotion face to face with tragedy. There was
more an element of craft in it, as if a sudden thought,
an excess of caution, had sealed her lips. Yet her
sentence seemed to have been, on the face of it,
simple enough: she had started to say that she was
the mother of the dead man. Why had she checked
herself?
"I am glad to have come, if I can be of any
assistance, Mrs. Appleton.” Gaunt said, after
waiting vainly an appreciable moment for her to
continue. “I shall want to have a little talk with
you later, as well as with the other members of your
family and the servants; but just now my business
lies with Coroner Hildebrand. Coroner, you've


14
AT ONE-THIRTY
stretched a point before this för me. May I ex-
amine the body, if I disarrange nothing?”
“Why, yes, I think so, Mr. Gaunt. The body
is still here in the chair. Nothing has been dis-
turbed except by the physician's cursory examina-
tion-nothing more was necessary. The man's been
dead for hours, shot through the heart.”
“Oh, I knew the body was still here.” Gaunt
smiled. “There is a certain slight, but unmistak-
able, odor about death, even when so short a time
has elapsed after it has taken place, which is plainly
evident to a nose trained for it.”
"To your nose, you mean,” returned the Coroner,
as the two men moved toward the grim chair with
its silent occupant.
Now a new sound broke upon the significant
stillness. It was a woman's heart-rending sob,
long drawn out, as if pent up beyond the limit of
human endurance, and rising in the crescendo of
ungovernable hysteria.
“Oh-h-!" the moan ended in a shriek of despair.
“This is horrible-I cannot bear it another moment!
I shall go mad-mad!”.
"Natalie!” the calm, cutting voice of the elder
Mrs. Appleton fell like a dash of icy water on the
agonized wail. “If you have no respect for the
living, at least try to show some for the dead. This
is no fitting time and place to indulge your undis-
ciplined, selfish emotions.”
“Oh, hush, dearest-please, please hush!” It


THE PASSING OF GARRET APPLETON
15
was a third woman's voice, low, slightly husky,
vibrant with the deepest tenderness and a con-
trolled passion. If the voice of the elder Mrs.
Appleton had impressed Gaunt as being the most
rigidly unfeeling he had ever heard, that of the last
speaker was the most eloquent of the music of the
soul. He had never in all his career heard a human
voice with so subtle and poignant an appeal. Here
was a woman who would be true and loyal to the
core, and who had a capacity for loving, if her
low, throbbing tones did not belie her, to the utter-
most abnegation of self. He had no difficulty
in his own mind in placing the two voices. The
one, raised high and shrill in an abandonment of
hysterical despair, had yet in its cadence the drawl-
ing sweetness of the lower, more vibrant tones.
They were the sisters, the two with whom the
elder Mrs. Appleton and her living son did not“get
on”; the one trembling in hysteria was the widow of
the murdered man, and the other was the sister-in-
law, whom Yates Appleton had called Barbara.
There was a sudden whirl, a soft rustle, and some-
thing hurled itself violently between Gaunt and the
Coroner, laying a small icy hand on each, implor-
ingly.
“Oh, you will let me go to my room?” the hys-
terical voice sobbed, plaintively. “I can't stand
any more-indeed, indeed, I cannot! How can I
be expected to endure it here another moment,
with his eyes staring at me so horribly?”
The Mrs. Apprambling in hither was


AT ONE-THIRTY
"It will be best for her to go, if you please,”
put in the low, vibrant tones. “There are reasons
why my sister's strength must not be over-
taxed any more than necessary, just now. I will
answer for her presence when you wish to question
her.”
"And I desire my daughter-in-law to remain.
Her proper place is beside the body of her hus-
band. You are beginning early, Miss Ellerslie,
to issue orders in my son's house!” The voice of
the elder Mrs. Appleton did not tremble, but it
vibrated harshly with her unconcealable animosity,
like jangling wires.
“This is my sister's house now, Mrs. Appleton.”
The low, soft tones, with the little drawl, were
courteous; but there was now an undertone of the
passion of which Gaunt had felt the possibility,
although it was under admirable control. “My
sister has been tortured enough. Have we your
permission to retire, Coroner Hildebrand?”
“Yes, Miss Ellerslie, I wish you would all do so,
please-you, Mrs. Appleton and Mr. Appleton,
also. I wish to make a thorough examination of
this room, with Mr. Gaunt and the Inspector.
We will interview you later."
Mrs. Finlay Appleton opened her lips to protest;
but, realizing that she was endangering her dignity
by a further exhibition of ill-nature, she led the
way haughtily from the room, her son following
with evident relief in her wake, and the group of


THE PASSING OF GARRET APPLETON
17
open-mouthed servants clustered at the door dis-
appearing like chaff in her path. .
The four men were alone; the quiet, spare figure
of Gaunt, the Coroner, and a burly Inspector,
and stolid-looking officer, who had stood silently
at one side during the preceding scene.
“Who is it-Inspector Hanrahan?” asked Gaunt,
with a swift smile.
“Yes, Mr. Gaunt. How are you, sir?”
"I thought I recognized the brand of your tobacco
—and isn't Officer Dooley here? I know that asth-
matic breathing of his."
Officer Dooley grinned and shifted from one
foot to another like a bashful boy.
"If you don't train down, Dooley, you will be
too fat for the force, before you know it. Now
for business, Coroner. Any possible idea at what
time Mr. Garret Appleton met his death?”
"No, Mr. Gaunt. I should say, in the neighbor-
hood of one o'clock, but of course we can't be
absolutely certain.”
Gaunt had approached the body, and was pas-
sing his fingers lightly and thoroughly over it.
"No doubt about robbery being the motive?”.
he asked, as he worked.
"Oh, no," the Inspector put in, easily. “No
weapon found, window open, tracks before window
in the carpet and on the curtains, and Mr. Apple-
ton's jewelry and money gone.”
"I understand.” Gaunt bent and sniffed the


18
AT ONE-THIRTY
powder-blackened shirt about the wound. “Looks
as if Mr. Appleton might have recognized, or
thought he recognized, the thief, doesn't it, when
he let him get as near as he did to shoot him,
without attempting to get on his feet, or make
any outcry?”
"Maybe he did jump to his feet, and fell back
again when he was shot?” suggested the Inspector,
thoughtfully.
"Hardly, seeing the way he was clutching the
arms of the chair. Even death didn't release
that vise-like grip. He might have clutched his
breast when the shot tore its way through him,
if he had had time. No, it looks as if he's been
sitting there a long time, grasping the arms of
his chair, and the end found him without the
movement of a muscle. Then there's another
thing."
Gaunt was talking very fast now, but his fingers
were working faster, darting with lightning-like
rapidity over the dead man's clothing.
“Whoever robbed him, made a pretty thorough
job of it. They evidently weren't afraid of being
disturbed at their work, and that seems strange,
when a revolver presumably lay smoking on the
table and the reverberations of its explosion must
still be echoing through the sleeping house. They
didn't tear out the vest- or cuff-buttons, or the
shirt-studs, but removed them carefully, although
with bungling fingers, as you can feel, here, and


THE PASSING OF GARRET APPLETON
19
here. And—wait! That's a curious thing about
the inside of the vest-pocket.”
“What is?” asked Coroner Hildebrand.
“Never mind, I'll look into that later. Got a
list of the missing jewelry, money, watch, and all
that?”
"Inspector Hanrahan has, of course. Hem”
“Well, I don't want it now. This the window
which was found open after the bird had flown?”
Gaunt felt his way over to the window, felt the
sill and the fastenings, and the velvet and lace
hangings, and the rich pile of the carpet at his
feet. When he encountered there some sticky,
congealed wet places, he knealt and smelt them,
kneading his hands in the damp velvet.
When he rose and turned, his usually impassive
face was alive with interest-a very different
interest from that which had glowed upon it when
he stood in his library window in the early morn-
ing. Now, it was keener, more poignant, and
there was nothing in it of pleasurable sensation-
rather, a sharp mental interest. He came slowly
back to that figure in the chair, wiping his hands
carefully on his handkerchief as he did so, while
the other men watched him in a sort of fascination,
as silent as it was intent.
Then he took the cold head in his hands, feeling
its shape with the trained, sure delicacy of a sur-
geon, a phrenologist. His deft fingers passed
downward more softly, more gently over the dead


20
AT ONE-THIRTY
features, tracing each strained muscle each curve
and angle, seeing, with his ten marvelous eyes of
the fifth sense, the expression on the face of the
murdered man.
At length, he turned to where the others stood.
"Well?” the Inspector's voice grated with sus-
pense in the silence. “Found out anything, Mr.
Gaunt?”
“A little, though I haven't begun to examine
the room thoroughly yet. There are a lot of queer
features about this case, which you mayn't have
found time to go into. In the first place, those
tracks over there at the window were not made
by muddy feet, but bloody hands."
"Of course,” the Coroner returned, impatiently,
"we know that. Those traces were left by the
murderer, going out."
"How about coming in? He didn't leave any
traces then, although it rained hard last night,
and there's soft loam and top soil in the garden
beneath this window. I can smell the late autumn
flowers. Again, the window was opened from the
inside, not out, and the person who opened it was
afraid, not of taking his time about it, but of making
a noise; for he opened the catch of the window in
the proper way, and then painstakingly bent and
twisted it with some blunt instrument to give it the
appearance of having been forced, though, had he
dared make any noise, he could have shattered it
with a single blow. And moreover, gentlemen,


THE PASSING OF GARRET APPLETON
21
that blood about the window was not fresh blood,
wiped from the murderer's red hands in making
good his escape. It was stale, congealed blood
when it was applied to the carpet and curtains.
When the window was forced and the semblance
of robbery and escape given to the scene of murder
in this room, Garret Appleton had already been
dead for some hours."


CHAPTER II
THE INSTRUMENT OF DEATH
THE men looked at one another.
“How do you know that-about the
blood, I mean?" demanded the Inspector,
bluntly. “How can you tell?”.
“Feel it, man, feel it!” returned Gaunt. “It's
dried in thick, raised, sticky clots. And, unless
I'm mistaken, it wasn't brushed there by the hand
of the murderer, but was deliberately wiped there,
placed there hours after the murder.”
.The Coroner strode to the window.
"Mr. Gaunt is right,” he cried. “Come here,
Inspector! It looks like a deliberate and very
clumsy attempt to brand the crime as an outside
job. It must have been for robbery, of course;
one of the servants, probably. But why the
fellow should have waited for hours before prepar-
ing his alibi, running the risk of some one discover-
ing the crime in the meantime, is beyond me. Also,
what has become of the jewels and the weapon-
but they'll come to light, of course."
"I'll have the house searched at once, and the
servants questioned; put through the third degree,
if necessary!” Inspector Hanrahan replied, ex-
citedly.


THE INSTRUMENT OF DEATH
Gaunt had been stooping, feeling about on the
floor before the chair in which the dead man sat,
and, at the Inspector's words, he rose, his long
fingers slipping for an instant into his waistcoat-
pocket. He had discovered upon the floor before
the chair three tiny hard globules, like irregular
pearls.
"I wouldn't do that, Inspector,” he suggested,
mildly. “At least, searching the house won't do
any harm; but don't question the servants in such
a manner that you'll lead any of them to suspect
that you don't think this was an outside job. If
you do, you may defeat your own ends." He
turned to the Coroner. “You'll have an autopsy
performed immediately, I suppose? I'd like to
know at once, if you'll tell me, what caliber and
make cartridge was used.”
"I'll let you know gladly. You'll be here all
day?”
“Yes. I want to make a more thorough exam-
ination of the room now, and then I should like to
speak to some members of the family. That rob-
bery theory still looks good, of course, Coroner
Hildebrand, if it weren't for one thing."
“What's that?” the Inspector turned sharply
from the window.
“The dead man's face. Look at his expression.
Blank horror and craven fear are stamped upon
it!”
“Look here, Mr. Gaunt, I don't see what you can


24
AT ONE-THIRTY
tell about his expression!” Inspector Hanrahan's
voice held a good-natured, 'easy contempt.
"By feeling the drawn, contracted muscles,”
Gaunt said, tersely. He resented bitterly any
reference to the handicap nature had placed upon
him, yet he realized the justice of the implica-
tion.
"It may be only the death-agony, the shock,
you know, which has distorted his face,” the Cor-
oner broke in hastily, soothingly.
“Look at him yourself, Coroner Hildebrand.
Does he look like a man suddenly attacked without
warning, or like one who recognized his assailant,
and read his approaching fate in the other's eyes,
but felt powerless to avert it?”
The Coroner was silent, and, with a slight shrug,
Gaunt turned away, and bent over the writing-
table, his hands playing lightly among the papers
and ornaments it contained. From there, he made
a circuit of the room, passing swiftly from one
article of furniture to another, more as if to orient
himself than with any idea of a thorough examina-
tion.
Suddenly he paused before a low, swinging lamp
of ancient brass, and felt carefully of its jangling
pendant ornaments. From one of these, a tiny
strand of hair hung, as if caught from the un-
wary head of some feminine Absalom, in passing
beneath it. It was a long strand of but two or
three fine, silky hairs, and the detective wound


THE INSTRUMENT OF DEATH
25
them carefully around his finger, then placed
them in the vest-pocket with the tiny white
globules.
Meanwhile, the other men went about their
gruesome task of removing the body to an adjoin-
ing room for the autopsy, and Gaunt heard their
heavy, subdued tread down the hall. With silent
haste, he approached the door and closed it softly,
then returned to the library-table in the center of
the room, beside which the body of the murdered
man had been seated, and opened drawer after
drawer, his hands searching feverishly among the
papers they contained, as if seeking some object
he fully anticipated finding. If Garret Appleton
really had known his assailant, and might act-
ually have feared for his life, it was logical to sup-
pose that he might have kept some weapon with
which to protect and, if necessary, defend himself.
If that weapon should happen to be a revolver,
of the same caliber as that with which he had
been shot
The detective's fingers closed over a cold steel
object in the lowest drawer, and with an exultant
exclamation he drew it forth. It was a revolver.
He placed it hastily to his nose, and sniffed it, then,
with a satisfied air, he thrust it into his hip-pocket,
and, when the Inspector reappeared, he was fingering
and smelling the hangings and pillows of the large,
richly-upholstered divan, about which a peculiar
heavy perfume seemed to cling.


26
AT ONE-THIRTY
“Well, I've finished here,” he announced. “I'd
like to see my client now.”
“Found anything more?” the Inspector asked,
with a grin.
"No, nothing. Guess your robbery theory goes.
Interviewed any of the servants yet?”
“Yes; and, between you and me, Mr. Gaunt, I
think I'm on the right trail. From all accounts,
Mr. Garret Appleton wasn't a very pleasant cus-
tomer. Dissipated, he was, and overbearing, and
a bully. He led his wife and everyone else pretty
much of a dog's life, and about a month ago he
drove his valet, Louis, out of the house, and the
man was heard to vow that he'd get even. This
Louis was a Frenchman, a hot-headed man him-
self, and he was very friendly with one of the
maids. She might have let him in last night,
and he, only meaning to rob the master, might
have murdered him without premeditation. Of
course, this morning, seeing what he'd done,
the maid would be afraid to admit he was here.
Anyway, that's my theory. Where are you go-
ing?”
“To interview Mrs. Appleton.”
Gaunt found the object of his search ensconced
in her morning-room, and, if the reaction of her
hour of silence and composure after the shock of
the discovery of her son's body, and the ensuing
scene in the den, had unnerved her, had brought
with it any flood of tenderness and natural grief,


THE INSTRUMENT OF DEATH
27
there was no evidence of it in her voice or manner,
or the steadiness of her hand.
"You have discovered anything, Mr. Gaunt-
any clue to the thief who killed my son?”
"Only that he was a most uncommon thief, Mrs.
Appleton—that the manner of your son's death
presents some very unusual features. As I have
already informed Mr. Yates Appleton, in under-
taking your investigation for you, I must make
one condition,”
“Your fee ” the elderly lady interrupted him,
coidly.
“My fee has nothing whatever to do with it.
That can be arranged later. My condition is that
of absolute confidence. My questions must be
freely and fully answered, with no quibbling, no
half-truths. If I ask you to go into family his-
tory, your common sense will tell you that it is
through no idle curiosity, but a necessary measure,
if I am to help you. I need not tell you that any
communications will be strictly confidential.”
“I am quite prepared to answer any questions
you may ask, Mr. Gaunt; although I cannot see
what bearing family history, as you call it, may
have upon a case of robbery and murder so obviously
perpetrated by a common thief.” Mrs. Appleton's
voice was steady and frigid; but there was an under-
lying note of uneasiness not lost upon the quick
ears of the detective.
“You must allow me to be the best judge of that,"


THE INSTRUMENT OF DEATH
“Most heartily, I recognized its unsuitability
from the first. And you see how it has ended!”
“But, surely, my dear Mrs. Appleton, you do
not consider the fact of your son's marriage to be
in any way connected with his death?”
There was a pause, and the detective could hear
her rapid breathing, her effort to regain her iron
control of herself. At length she spoke:
"I do not, Mr. Gaunt. I have been unable, since
you started this line of inquiry, to connect it with
the matter in hand.”
"I am simply trying in my own mind to com-
prehend the relations the members of your son's
household bear to one another. He and his wife
were unhappy. Was that due in part, do you
think, to the presence of your daughter-in-law's
sister?”
“In great part. I see that you fully understood
the significance of the scene in the den, beside
my son's body this morning. Barbara Ellerslie is
an interloper. She made her home here in my
son's house, at her sister's invitation, and she has
been the cause of many unpleasant, disgraceful
domestic scenes, humoring Natalie, aiding and
abetting her in her senseless quarrels and accusa-
tions against Garret, and constantly stirring up
strife between them. My son could not oust her;
for Natalie would not give her up. Naturally,
Barbara made herself indispensable to her sister,
in order to enjoy the advantages, social and other-


30
AT ONE-THIRTY
wise, of living here, instead of in the dull, shabby-
genteel surroundings of her Southern home.”
"Miss Ellerslie spoke just a little while ago of
there being a reason why young Mrs. Appleton's.
strength should not be overtaxed just now. Am I
to infer that,"
"Natalie will in a few months become a mother."
A silence followed the terse statement, a silence
in which the concentrated bitterness, and thwarted
impotent hatred, expressed unconsciously in the
tone of the few words, sank deep into the detective's
mind. It told him volumes, which before he had
only suspected, and cleared the way before him.
"Mrs. Appleton, your younger son's name has
been in the papers lately, in connection with some
effort to break a will. I can, of course, learn all
about it in detail by having my secretary look
over my newspaper files, but I prefer to hear about
it from you. Will you give me the particulars?"
There was a stiff, silken rustle, as the lady moved
restlessly, uneasily, in her chair, and then a new
sound smote upon the detective's ears; a sharp,
staccato tattoo. Mrs. Appleton was nervously tap-
ping the broad mahogany arms of her chair, with
the rounded tips of her finger nails. At last, she
spoke quickly, imperiously; but the pause after his
question had been so lengthy as to rob her words
of their desired significance, and betray her real
state of mind-her reluctance to discuss the new
topic he had introduced.


THE INSTRUMENT OF DEATH
OU
Te
“Mr. Gaunt, my son's murderer may be making
good his escape, may be getting forever beyond
our reach, while you are wasting time by delving
into wholly extraneous matters. The matter of
my late husband's will can have no possible con-
nection with my son's murder.” The cold, for-
bidding voice trembled at the end with suppressed
anger and latent agitation.
Gaunt shrugged.
“Then, you will not tell me?” he insisted. “You
will permit me to use your telephone? I must get
my secretary on the wire.”
There was an exclamation of annoyance from
Mrs. Appleton, and the nervous tapping on the
chair-arms quickened for a moment, then ceased
abruptly, as, after a moment's pause, she spoke:
“Of course, if you insist, Mr. Gaunt, I will tell
you. It is nothing but what all the world knows,
and it is a maddening waste of time; but I presume
you must pursue your own method. My husband
was an old-fashioned man, and the mode of life
adopted by our two sons angered him to the ex-
treme. I disapprove most strongly, of course, of
the looseness of the lives of young men nowadays;
but I knew that my sons were merely wild, not
evil, and would in time marry suitably and settle
down. My husband took an opposite view, and
vowed he would leave his fortune in trust for them,
that they might never have an opportunity to
squander the principal. When, however, my eldest


32
AT ONE-THIRTY
son, Garret, became infatuated with Natalie Ellerslie,
and married her, my husband took an absurd fancy
to her, and felt that Garret's future was safe in
her hands; that she would, as he expressed, 'make
a man of him.'
"My own fortune was assured by an ante-nuptial
agreement, and my husband left a miserable pit-
tance-considering his great wealth-to Yates, and
that in trust for him for life, with the Mammoth
Trust Company, that he might never touch any
part of it but the interest. The rest of his estate
my husband divided into halves, giving one share
to Garret ourtight, the other portion co be held
in trust by the Mammoth Company, together
with its accruing interest for ten years. If, at the
end of that period, Natalie had borne no child, that
portion was to be divided, and one-half of it given
outright to each of the brothers. If, on the other
hand, Natalie had given birth to a child, or children,
the Mammoth Company was to hold that part
of the estate, not its interest, until the children were
twenty-one, and then divide it among them. Do I
make myself clear?”
"Perfectly."
"It was a most unfair arrangement, as you can
see, and naturally Yates resented it. A few months
ago, when it became an assured fact that there was
to be a child, Yates brought suit-an entirely
friendly suit, I assure you, Mr. Gaunt-jointly
against his brother and the Trust Company, to


THE INSTRUMENT OF DEATH
33
obtain his rightful share of the property and full
control of it. It was merely to test the validity
of the will, of course, and Yates lost. That is
absolutely all there is in the story.".
"The suit was entirely friendly? There had been
no serious quarrels preceding it?"
"Oh, little discussions, of course; but only such
as occur in all families over money matters. The
suit was brought as a perfectly amicable arrange-
ment of them. You can understand that we-
Yates and I-would not be living here under my
eldest son's roof had it been otherwise.”
“Ah! Then, you sided with your youngest son
in the matter, Mrs. Appleton?”
There was a rustle as the lady gave a start of
annoyance at her involuntary slip, and the rapid
rat-tat of the finger-tips upon the polished wood
was resumed.
“I sided with neither—there was no need. I
have told you repeatedly that it was a perfectly
amicable family arrangement.”
“ Has this sudden tragedy affected your plans
for the immediate future, Mrs. Appleton?”
Again the tapping ceased.
“Naturally, in the face of the attitude adopted
by my daughter-in-law and her sister, my son and
I will not remain another night under this roof.
This afternoon, I shall go to the Blenheim Hotel,
to remain there until my own house is ready to
receive me. An hour ago, my son made arrange-


AT ONE-THIRTY
ments, by means of the telephone, to take over
the bachelor apartments of a friend, in the Cal-
thorp.”
“Ah! Mrs. Appleton, you approve of this move
of your son's?”
"I? Approve?" the lady's voice was almost
shrill in her astonishment at the sudden question;
but her fingers unconsciously began for the third
time their agitated betrayal upon the sounding-
boards of the chair-arms. "I cannot understand
your question, Mr. Gaunt. My son is no longer
a child. His personal plans are his own. Whether
he chooses to go to the Calthorp, or elsewhere,
is of small moment to me.”
“Then, it is because of another reason that your
son is the cause of some particular anxiety to you,
just now?”
“Mr. Gaunt, your line of questioning is not only
senselessly irrelevent, it is impertinent!” Her in-
dignation was growing beyond the bounds of her
studied self-control.
But the detective returned, imperturbably.
"Every time, during our present interview, Mrs.
Appleton, when my fline of questioning,' as you
term it, has led toward your youngest son, you
have unmistakably betrayed your agitation.”
“My agitation? Would I, would any mother,
not be agitated at such a time as this, when her
eldest son lies dead, foully murdered, almost at
her feet? But you are laboring under a strange


THE INSTRUMENT OF DEATH
:
35
delusion, if you imagine that I am especially
perturbed at the mention of my youngest son.
Why should such a thought have entered your
mind?”
For answer, he tapped lightly, but with sharp
insistence, on the arms of his own chair, and, after
an instant, she comprehended.
“How absurd!” she ejaculated, with a con-
temptuous shrug of her shoulders; but there was
a little running note of apprehension in her voice.
“You are super-analytical, Mr. Gaunt. Are there
any further questions you desired to ask me? I
need scarcely remind you again that time presses."
If he could only have seen her knuckles whiten,
as she clasped her hands in her lap, so convulsively
that the heavy rings cut cruelly into her wrinkled
fingers, he might perhaps have pressed the matter
in spite of her evident displeasure, but instead,
he branched off upon a new subject of inquiry.
“Mrs. Appleton, was your eldest son ever, to
your knowledge, in fear of his life? Had he any
active enemy?”
Mrs. Appleton opened her lips for an indignant
denial, when there came an unexpected interrup-
tion. There was a sudden commotion in the hall,
the door was Aung open, and a girl's voice was
heard in a shrill cry of horror. The next moment,
someone entered precipitately, with a swirl of
silken skirts, and flung herself upon the elder
woman.


36
AT ONE-THIRTY
At the same instant, a whiff of cloying Oriental
perfume, like incense, was wafted to the sensitive
nostrils of Gaunt.
"What is this we have heard?” the same sharp
young voice cried out. “Mrs. Appleton, what
is it that has happened? We have heard horrible
rumors—they cannot be true! Is Garret—"
"My dear child! My dear Doris!" the voice
held more a warning than an appeal for sympathy.
“Garret is dead! He was found, shot, in his den
this morning! I know how badly you feel for us
all, but you must calm yourself. You see how I
am bearing up under the blow. This is no time
for breaking down.” The cautious note seemed
suddenly to deepen in significance. “I am talk-
ing to Mr. Gaunt, whom I have retained to investi-
gate this terrible affair for us. Mr. Gaunt, this
young lady is the daughter of an old family friend,
Judge Carhart.”
“Garret dead!” The girl's voice trembled. “I
cannot believe it! I cannot realize it! Dead!
And only last night,” The voice ceased, with
a little, quick catch of the breath. Had she paused
because of the fear that she would break down
under the stress of shock and sympathetic emo-
tion, or because of a warning gesture, a pressure
of the arm, perhaps, from Mrs. Appleton ?
“Judge Carhart and his daughter dined with us
last evening,” the elder woman's smooth, hard
voice explained carefully. “Garret was well and


THE INSTRUMENT OF DEATH 37
in the best of spirits. It is difficult for the young
to realize "
“My dear Catherine! My poor old friend!”
a rich, full-toned fatherly voice sounded from the
doorway. “We have come, Doris and I, to utter
what consolation we may, and give you and yours
what aid lies in our power!”
"Ah, Judge Carhart, I am so very glad to see
you!” Mrs. Appleton's tones for the first time
rang with a warm human note. “Come in, please,
This is Mr. Gaunt, of whom you have doubtless
heard. I called him in at once."
"Mr. Gaunt!” The detective's hand was grasped
cordially. “My old friend is fortunate to have
obtained your services. Your work, sir, in the Mar-
bridge case, and the Delamater murders, came under
my judicial notice, and commanded my admira-
tion. But you were in consultation with Mrs.
Appleton. My daughter and I will withdraw.”
"By no means, Judge Carhart. My interview
was almost at an end, and I should like to put a
question or so to you, if I may. I understand
you and Miss Carhart dined here last evening.”
“We did, sir.”
“There were other guests?”
"No." It was Mrs. Appleton who replied.
“Only our family, the Judge, and his daughter."
"Did you notice anything unusual in Mr. Apple-
ton's—Mr. Garret Appleton's—appearance, or man-
ner, during the evening, Judge Carhart?”


38
AT ONE-THIRTY
“No, nothing whatever," the Judge's tone held
a hint of astonishment at the question. “Did
you, Doris?”
The girl caught her breath suddenly, with a
little hiss, then replied in a low, studiously con-
trolled tone.
“No, daddy, of course not. Why should there
have been?”
“Mr. Gaunt. Coroner Hildebrand would like to
speak to you.” It was Yates Appleton's voice,
breaking in upon them.
“Ask him to come in here—and you, too, Mr.
Appleton.” Gaunt leaned forward in his chair. .
Young Mr. Appleton entered, followed by the
Coroner, who remained standing just within the
door, eying the detective somewhat doubtfully.
“Coroner, the autopsy has been performed?”
Gaunt asked, sharply. “You have abstracted the
bullet? I should like to know at once in the
presence of Judge Carhart and these members of
the family.”
“It was fired from a thirty-two-caliber revolver,
Mr. Gaunt."
"A thirty-two-a thirty-two!” the detective re-
peated, thoughtfully. Then, he wheeled suddenly
toward where the younger son was standing.
"Mr. Appleton, did your brother possess a re-
volver?”
“Certainly not!” the mother cut in harshly, be-
fore her son could answer. “What could lead you


THE INSTRUMENT OF DEATH
to suppose that Garret should have such a thing
in his possession?”
“Did he?” Gaunt persisted quietly, of the young
man. “It is not uncommon, you know, for gentle-
men to keep such a weapon in their homes, to guard
against burglars and the like. Have you ever seen
a revolver in your brother's hands?”
"I-I believe he did have one somewhere, now
that I think of it," Yates Appleton admitted,
sullenly. There was a quick sharp exclamation
from his mother; but no one, save perhaps the
detective, noted it.
“Was it of thirty-two caliber?”
"I don't know. 1-I never noticed it partic-
ularly.”
“Did your brother ever fire it?”
"Not that I know of.”
“Did anyone else ever handle it?”
“I never saw anybody. My brother had it a
long time. I don't know why he got it-probably
for protection against burglars, as you say. I
don't even know that it was ever loaded.”
“Where did he keep it?”
“I haven't the least idea. It's months since I
saw it.”
“Where did you see it last?"
The questions were pelted pitilessly at him, and
he was visibly writhing about under them. At the
last one, he blurted out desperately:
"In the-the den."


40
AT ONE-THIRTY
“Will you go, please, and bring it here?”
"I don't know where it is, I tell you!” he almost
shouted, the perspiration standing out in great
beads on his forehead.
“Will you go to the den, and look for it?” Then,
as the young man seemed to hesitate, he added:
“Mr. Appleton's body has been removed.”
With a sudden movement, Yates Appleton turned
and bolted from the room, and those within it sat
in a tense silence, waiting.
Finally, there was an exclamation, almost a shout,
from down the hall, and the young man rushed in.
“It's gone!” he cried. “Someone's taken it!
It's gone from the drawer, where he always kept
it!”
Damon Gaunt reached in his hip-pocket, and
drew forth something, which he held out.
"Is this it?” he asked, quietly.
Yates Appleton snatched it from his hands.
“Let me see!” he bent, trembling, over it. Then,
he turned roughly upon the detective. “Yes, by
gad, it is! And you're a fool if you think it had
anything to do with the murder! It's fully loaded!
Here! You can see for yourself!” He thrust it
into the Coroner's hands.
“Yes, it's fully loaded,” Grant conceded, steadily.
“But it has been lately fired, and reloaded -
within a few hours, perhaps. An attempt has
been made to clean it, but not thoroughly. It
still reeks of powder.”


THE INSTRUMENT OF DEATH
"Where did you get it?" Yates Appleton de-
manded, furiously.
"In the drawer in the library table, where you
say your brother always kept it; in the drawer
where it was placed in the early hours of this morn-
ing, by the hand which reloaded and cleaned it-
the same hand which pried open the catch of the
window from the inside, and smeared the curtains
with the blood of a man long dead. The weapon
which was the instrument of death was Garret
Appleton's own revolver!”


CHAPTER III
LIES
WHERE was a moment of electrified silence,
and then Mrs. Finlay Appleton arose majes-
tically to her feet.
"Mr. Gaunt, do you mean to imply that my son
committed suicide, and that someone else, coming
upon his body hours afterward, attempted to con-
ceal the evidence of his act, and to create a false
impression of theft and murder? You go too far,
sir! Such a deduction is that of a mind, to say the
least, gone astray!”
"I imply nothing of the sort, Mrs. Appleton. I
assert that your son was killed by some person,
at present unknown, who did not enter by way of
the window; and that the murderer, or someone
else, coming by chance upon the body, sought to
convey a false impression of the manner of your
son's death. That is the case as it stands
now.”
“I cannot believe it! It is preposterous-un-
thinkable! Why should anyone do such a thing?
What motive could there be? No one in my house-
hold could be capable of it! I trust my servants
implicitly!” The dominant woman had forgotten


LIES
43
for the moment that it was of her daughter-in-
law's house she spoke, her daughter-in-law's ser-
vants.
"Good God!” Yates Appleton ejaculated in a
low tone. He was wiping his forehead, and star-
ing at the detective with something akin to horror
in his eyes.
“Mr. Appleton,” Gaunt turned to him, "your
mother tells me that you and she are planning to
leave this house today; I should like a word in
private with you before you go."
“Y-yes, Mr. Gaunt. Perhaps you'll come to
my room? My man is packing there now; but
I'll dismiss him ”
“I'll come presently, when I've had a word with
the Coroner.”
The Judge had turned to Mrs. Appleton, and
was saying softly:
"You are leaving this house–leaving Natalie
in her grief?”
“Her grief is not overwhelming, my dear friend.
There is no need of pretense to you. She's merely
hysterical now, and Barbara is taking care of her.”
“But, Catherine, is it wise? Is it-politic?"
"I don't know. I know the house is horrible to
me; that I could not spend another night in it!”
The Judge sighed.
“Could I speak to Natalie for a moment, do you
think?”
“I'll see.” Mrs. Appleton swept from the room
SO


44
AT ONE-THIRTY
as if glad to escape even momentarily from Gaunt's
presence, and the. Judge turned to where his
daughter, with white, set face and staring eyes,
crouched in the window-seat.
Meanwhile, the Coroner said in a low, excited
tone:
"You're sure of what you said, Mr. Gaunt?
That was a pretty strong statement you made.
After all, you know, you've the merest circumstan-
tial evidence to go on.”
"Good heavens, man! Don't the facts bear me
out so far? And I made that statement as openly
as I did, for a good and sufficient reason. Be sure
you keep that revolver from being handled too much.
You'll need the powder-traces on it as evidence,
later."
"Judge Carhart, if you will come with me”
Mrs. Appleton's voice came from just behind them,
.“Natalie would like to see you for a moment."
When the Judge had left the room, the Coroner,
too, departed, and Gaunt crossed to where the
slim, still figure was seated among the cushions.
"You—you're blind aren't you, Mr. Gaunt?”
the girl asked curiously, but not unkindly. “ How
did you know where I was sitting?”
“By your perfume, Miss Carhart,” he replied,
with a smile. “You know, we who are bereft of
one sense must train the others to act for us in
place of the one we have lost. That perfume is
very strange, unusual.”


LIES
45
“Yes. My father has it sent from India. He
used to get it for my mother. It has an unpro-
nounceable name, meaning ‘The Rose in Death.'
She shivered a little at the last word, then went
on hurriedly: “It is supposed to be very, very
old. I believe it was first distilled for the queen
in whose memory the Taj-Mahal was built. ...
But tell me, Mr. Gaunt, is it really true that Garret-
that Mr. Appleton was-murdered? Even after
hearing what you have all just said, I cannot be-
lieve it."
“He is dead,” Gaunt answered, gently. “By
whose hand we have yet to learn. Try to recall
everything that happened last evening, every little,
trivial incident, which may have slipped your
memory. There was nothing-not a word or a
look from anyone out of the ordinary?”
"I can't think-you frighten me so, Mr. Gaunt!
You make me feel as if you suspected every one of
us! Surely, it was a burglar, was it not? Mr.
Appleton's money and jewelry are also gone, they
say. Oh, what does it all mean? Who can have
done it?”
“Try to calm yourself, Miss Carhart, and collect
your thoughts, and tell me exactly what happened
last evening-everything which you can remember.”
“Why, we dined-just a simple family dinner-
you know, we're all awfully old friends—Mrs.
Appleton, and my father, and Garret and his
wife, and Miss Ellerslie, and Yates, and I. And
an


46
AT ONE-THIRTY
then, afterward-let me see. Oh, yes, Miss Ellers-
lie went to a wedding with a party of friends, who
called for her—"
“A wedding?"
“Yes. An old friend from the South, I believe.
And Yates went out, too.' Mrs. Appleton and
father played double-dummy bridge, and Garret
and his wife and I chatted for awhile. Then
Garret's wife said she wasn't feeling very well,
and excused herself and went up-stairs, and Garret
and I sat and talked until father and Mrs Apple-
ton finished their game, and we went home. That
is all.”
“What time did you leave?”.
“Oh, early-between eleven and half-past, I
think.”
“And on your arrival home?”
“Father went to his study for a last cigar, and
I went right up to bed, and read for an hour or
two before I fell asleep. We weren't going on
anywhere else. It's too early in the season for
dances and that sort of thing, you know.”
"I understand. Miss Carhart," he bent for-
ward suddenly, as if to look into her face through
his sightless eyes, and shot the question at her,
"at what hour during the evening, and with whom,
were you in the den?”
She shrank from him, her breath coming in
great gasps.
“The-den?" she faltered, through dry lips.


LIES
47
“The room in which Garret Appleton was after-
ward murdered,” he persisted, inexorably.
“The-den!” she repeated. “Why, never-not
once—not for an instant! I swear it!”.
The detective drew back.
“Oh!” he muttered. “You said that you and
young Mrs. Appleton and her husband sat chatting,
while your father and the elder Mrs. Appleton
played bridge. I thought perhaps you were in the
den.”
Miss Carhart drew a deep breath.
“Oh, no!” she said, hastily. “We were in the
library.”
He could feel her eyes upon him, deep and
bright with suspicion.
“You say that young Mrs. Appleton was not
well. Did she seem depressed, or unhappy?”
The sudden change of topic had the desired effect.
“How should I know?” the girl drew herself up
coldly. “I did not notice her particularly. She
seemed quite as usual.”
“I thought perhaps you would have noticed. I
understood you were great friends."
"I meant that my father and I were great friends
of the Appleton family. I only know Garret's wife
and her sister casually, not intimately.”
"Well, Miss Carhart, I must leave you. No
doubt Mrs. Appleton will return almost immediately
with your father, and I must interview the ser-
vánts. Thank you for replying to my questions."


AT ONE-THIRTY
He turned gropingly, with outstretched hands,
as if feeling for the door from which he had come
to her with such unerring precision, and his hand
came in contact with her head just where her hair
billowed out from under her hat. He withdrew
it at once, with a deprecatingly murmured apology,
and, with an odd lack of his usual accuracy, fumbled
for the door. On the sill, he paused, stopped,
and picked up a filmy square of lace, so tiny that
it had lain unnoticed in the general excitement
by those who had passed over it. He turned, and
walked straight back to where the girl sat watching
him, with curious, fascinated eyes.
“Your handkerchief, I believe?” he asked, smil-
ingly presenting it. “You must have dropped it
when you entered.”
Miss Carhart took it from his hand, glanced at
it, and then swiftly back to his face, and her eyes
were dark with apprehension.
"Thank you, it is mine," she said quietly. “But
-how did you know?”.
“The perfume,” he explained, with courteous,
but wearied, patience. “Wherever you are, where-
ever any personal article of yours lies, that individual,
penetrating scent of yours would lead unmistakably
to you. And then, too, if I am not mistaken, I
felt the monogram D. C. in a corner of the hand-
kerchief. Mrs. Appleton called you ‘Doris.' . It is
quite simple, you see. Good-morning, Miss Carhart.”
As he made his way slowly along the unfamiliar


LIES
49
hali, he pondered. She had been in the den some-
time the previous evening. The lingering, cloying
perfume was unmistakable. Why had she denied
it?
A man-servant passed through the hall, and,
seeing him, approached deferentially.
"Mr. Gaunt, sir? Were you going to Mr. Ap-
pleton's room? He expects you. I'm his man,
sir. Shall I show you the way?”.
“If you will, please. But where were you going
just now?"
“To the kitchen, sir, with this tray.”
“Tray?”
“Yes, sir. Mr. Yates Appleton's breakfast-tray.”
The man's perceptible pause before the word
“breakfast” was illuminating, but unnecessarily so
to Gaunt.
“That is not a breakfast-tray, my man, unless
your master partook of a most injudicious meal.
He'd better not have anything more to drink
today, if you can keep it away from him.”
“Drink, sir? How-how did you know?” the
valet stammered, the shaking tray almost slipping
from his hands.
"From the tinkle of ice in the glass, and that
purring sound of gas in the siphon. If that tray
had been more heavily laden-with dishes, for
instance I should have heard them clink together,
also, as you came toward me down the hall. What
is your name?”


50
AT ONE-THIRTY
"James, sir.”
“Well, James, at what hour did your master
return home last night, or, rather, this morning?”
“At about three o'clock, sir.”
"How do you know? Did you wait up for
him?”
“Yes, sir. I mostly do, sir. It-it isn't often
that he can get to bed by himself, sir.” The man
spoke apologetically, but with eager frankness.
Evidently, he stood much in awe of his inquisitor.
“I understand. And in what condition was your
master when he returned this morning?”
“About as usual. Quite-quite under the weather,
so to speak, but not what you might call bad,
sir. ... This is his door.”
James coughed discreetly, and knocked, and an
irritable, highly strung voice bade him enter.
"Mr. Gaunt, sir,” announced James, and departed
swiftly and noiselessly.
“Oh!” said Yates Appleton, with a noticeable
change of tone. “Come in, Mr. Gaunt. What
is it you want to ask me? I'm afraid I've told
you everything I know.”
“I'd like to know what jewelry was taken from
your brother's body," was the opening remark,
which evidently surprised the younger man by its
tenor.
“Oh, I've already given a list to Inspector Han-
rahan, as nearly as I can remember, and Garret's
man can tell me.”
nno


LIES
ever
“Still, I should like to have you repeat it to me,”
the detective reiterated, patiently.
“Pearl studs, pearl and mother-of-pearl vest-
buttons and cuff-buttons, a small gold watch,
thin gold cigarette-case, and a small seal purse.
That's all, I think.”
“All? No small jeweled pin, or insignia of
some sort?”
• Yates Appleton's knuckles cracked suddenly,
as he gripped the back of a high carved chair upon
which he was leaning.
“Pin? I never thought of that! He did have
some such thing, I believe. Frat' pin, from his
university days, I imagine, although I never
inquired. He was superstitious about it, and
wouldn't go without it; but in dinner-clothes-”.
“He wore it pinned inside his vest-pocket, in
evening-clothes, didn't he?"
“Yes,” Yates Appleton gasped, and looked his
perturbed astonishment. “By Jove! I remember
now, I've seen him pin it there once or twice, or
under the lapel of his coat. Silly of him; but,
as I say, he was superstitious about it. I'd like
to know how you found it out, Mr. Gaunt. Hardly
anybody knew about it.”
"The thief did,” Gaunt observed, quietly.
“Rather unusual, wasn't it? The man who robbed
and murdered him evidently was someone who
knew him and his habits thoroughly-or else had
nerve enough, after firing a shot, which, had it


52
AT ONE-THIRTY
.
been heard, would have brought the whole house
about his ears, to search his victim's clothes with
the most minute detail.”
"Hum-m! I never thought of that," the young
man answered, thoughtfully.
“What did you do last evening, Mr. Appleton?
You went out immediately after dinner, did you
not?”
“Almost immediately. Family parties always
bore me.”
“Where did you go?”
“To the club first-the Patriarch's, for awhile.
Met some chaps I knew, and played cards, and
had a few drinks. Then, I drove around in the
car for awhile, and-and—”.
“And then?”
- “Then, I went to the rooms of a fellow I know,
and he came out with me.”
“Where?”
“Oh, we rode around some more in the car,
and stopped at various places for drinks. Then,
I left him at his rooms, and came home to bed
myself.”
“At what time did you leave the club?”
“The club? Oh, I don't know-at about half-
past twelve.”
“And when did you reach your friend's rooms?”
“About one.”
“Your friend can verify that?”
“Yes, and the door-man at the club can verify


LIES
53
the time I left there, if necessary, as you very well
know. Good heavens, man! you don't suspect me
of murdering my own brother, do you?" He
spoke with the irritability of nerves worn to the
breaking point.
“My dear Mr. Appleton, this is merely a matter
of form, you know. No one suspects you, of course;
but the police will go into this much more rigor-
ously, if I don't. They must know where every
member of this household was at every moment
last night. ... Are your friend's rooms near the
club?”
“Within five minutes, in the motor car.” The
young man spoke sullenly, but more quietly.
“So that, after leaving the club, you only drove
around by yourself for about twenty minutes?”
“Yes. I was coming home, and then 1-changed
my mind.”
: "At what time did you finally reach home?"
"I don't know-about three, I suppose.”
"And you heard or saw nothing unusual?"
"No. James was waiting up for me, in my dress-
ing-room, and I went straight to bed. I was feeling
a—a little tight.”
"I understand. Now, Mr. Appleton, will you
give me your friend's name and address, please?”
"Maurice Livingston, Bryant Chambers,” the
young man returned, sullenly.
“Mr. Appleton, what is that strong odor of
witch-hazel I smell?”


i
AT ONE-THIRTY
54
-
-
-
-
-
- -
-
-
-
“My hand-I hurt it. My man's been dressing
! it for me.”
“How did you hurt it?”
“Bruised it-got caught in the door of the car
last night.”
“When?"
"I don't know. I was tight, I tell you-intoxi-
cated, if you like that better! I only noticed it
this morning."
“Well, Mr. Appleton, I won't keep you much
longer. I wonder if you know of any enemies
your brother may have made-if he feared anyone,
feared an attack of some sort?”
"Lord, no! He wasn't man enough to make
enemies,” the affectionate brother returned, “not
bad enough enemies to want to take his life; although
there were lots who hated him, and a few who
would have been glad to have him out of the way."
“Out of the way? Whom do you mean by that,
Mr. Appleton?” the detective spoke peremptor-
ily, and the other man squirmed uneasily.
“Oh, I don't know!” he blundered. “There's
a chap whose rather gone on Natalie. Not that
she's ever given him any encouragement, that
I've noticed; but you never can tell about these
sly ones. She was jealous, and always rowing
Garret, you know, and playing the ill-used wife,
and bleating to Barbara about it, and maybe she
worked on this fellow's sympathies. He's one of
the intense, quiet kind. Perhaps he'll think there's
-


LIES
55
a
a chance for him, now. I fancy he won't be sorry,
for one, that Garret's gone."
“What is the man's name?”
"Harmon Witherspoon. He lives down in the
old Witherspoon Mansion, on Washington Square."
“Well, Mr. Appleton, I won't detain you any
longer.” Gaunt rose. "If I need you again, I
shall find you at your rooms—the Calthorp, isn't it?"
“Yes. I am going straight there. This house
is getting on my nerves.”
“Will you please ring for a servant, and have
me conducted to the drawing-room or library? I
want to interview Miss Ellerlsie.”
“I'll take you myself. The library'd be best.”.
Yates Appleton pressed the button in the wall with
alacrity, as if glad the searching interview was
over. "James,” he added, when the man appeared,
"send someone to tell Miss Ellerslie that Mr. Gaunt
would like to speak to her in the library.”
In the great entrance-hall, at the foot of the
stairs, however, they were halted by the Inspector.
“Mr. Gaunt, I'd like to speak to you for a minute
please. Were you going anywhere, special?”.
"To the library, to interview Miss Ellerslie,”
the detective replied.
"Then, if you don't mind, I'll show you the way
myself, after I've had a word with you.”
Inspector Hanrahan waited until Mr. Yates
Appleton was up the stairs and well out of ear-
shot, before he spoke again.


56
AT ONE-THIRTY
"It's about the autopsy, Mr. Gaunt. They
found the bullet, as you know; but they found
something else, too. It is a bruise on the left
shoulder, high up near the neck, as if it was a
blow aimed at the heart, and wide of the mark.
As sure as you're alive, Mr. Gaunt, someone hit
him a blow! That looks like a struggle, don't it?
That looks as if he'd tried to defend himself, and
been worsted. Sort of knocks your theory that
he just sat still and let himself be done to death,
don't it?”
"It looks like it, Inspector,” Gaunt answered
with a slight smile, which gave no hint of the tumult
of his thoughts. “Any other marks on the body?”
"None but the bullet-wound," the Inspector re-
turned, briefly. “But this is the darndest case I
ever struck in my life, Mr. Gaunt. Who killed him,
and why did they come back hours later and fix
up that window stunt?”
“That's what we're here to find out. Been after
any more of the servants?”
“Yes; but it's no good. Katie, the housemaid
that was stuck on Louis, Mr. Appleton's man,
won't admit a thing, and Maggie, the blatherskite
of a cook, won't do anything but weep, and wail,
and bemoan the day she left Ireland. I'm going
to get after Dakers, the butler, again. He's smooth
and polite, and slick as they come; but I have an idea
that fellow's got something up his sleeve.”
“All right, Inspector. By the way, would you


LIES
57 ,
mind telling me what color hair this is? It's golden,
isn't it?” He pulled the strand of hair from his
vest-pocket as he spoke.
"Sure, it's golden, right enough.” The Inspec-
tor's tone was full of honest wonder. “How'd you
know?”
"By the texture. I can tell the color of most
hair by the feel of it between my fingers—not the
difference between the finer shadings, perhaps, but
the general tone.”
"It beats me how you do it! But where did
you get it?”
"Never mind that now. I'll tell you if it turns
out to be important. Here comes Miss Ellerslie.
Let me know later if you learn anything."
“Miss Ellerslie? She ain't coming yet, Mr.
Gaunt. There ain't a soul in sight."
"I hear her footstep in the hall above. There!
She's just at the head of the stairs.”
The Inspector glanced up involuntarily, and saw
a slight, gray-clad figure.
"Holy Virgin!” he muttered to himself, stepping
back, with round eyes full of wonder on the man
before him. “This is the library, here on your
right,” he added hurriedly, and departed, all but
crossing himself as he went.
“You wished to see me, Mr. Gaunt?” the low,
sweet, pulsing voice sounded upon his ears, and
Barbara Ellerslie led the way into the library. "I
shall be glad to tell you anything I can.”


58
AT ONE-THIRTY
“Your sister, Mrs. Appleton-how is she?"
Gaunt asked, for once at a loss how to lead up to
the subject he must inquire into. The nearness of
this strange, magnetic woman, the poignancy of
her, was as oddly disturbing as the vibrations of
the violin-like tones. She seemed to radiate a
suggestion of limitless power in her perfect self-
containment, of glowing health, of body and mind,
and soul, in her easy poise and control.
“She is better. The first reaction from the shock
has gone, and she is quieter. She will be able
to see you later, for a few moments, if you wish.
But, please, be very gentle with her, Mr. Gaunt.”
The low voice sank even lower, as he was later to
know was its wont, when anything that touched
her very deeply was uttered. “She is not well,
not over-strong at best, and now she is in a delicate
condition. She has had much to endure, and it
culminated in the shock of this morning's tragedy.
Please, be very-kind to her.”
"I will,” the detective found himself promising,
almost vehemently. “I shall not annoy her any
more than I can possibly help, and I shall try to
say nothing to grieve or excite her.”
“Thank you.” The voice was a mere tremulous
breath; but she must have leaned toward him, in-
voluntarily, for the clean, pure fragrance of her
hair and body, free from the taint of cloying scents
and acrid perfumes, stole over his senses, and
seemed to numb them. With an effort of his will,


LIES
59
he pulled himself together, and spoke in a tone more
stern than he had meant, to cover his own con-
fusion and bewilderment at himself.
“But in order to spare your sister, Miss Ellers-
lie, I must ask you to answer my questions without
reservation. You went out immediately after
dinner, last evening?”
“Yes, to a wedding-a very quiet one, that of
an old schoolmate. I went with friends, and
returned quite late.”
“At what time?”
“About one o'clock.”
“Did you retire at once?”
"No. My sister's maid and mine-an old mam-
my, whom we brought with us from our home-
was waiting up for me, and she said that Natalie
was awake, and very nervous. Without waiting
to disrobe, I went in and talked with her for some
time, until she quieted down, and almost slept.
Then, I returned to my room.”
“You retired immediately?”.
“Yes.”
"You were, therefore, not in or near the den from
the time dinner was over, either before you went
out, or after your return, until this morning, when
the discovery of Mr. Appleton's body aroused
the house?”
“No, Mr. Gaunt."
20


CHAPTER IV
THE SISTERS
“TZOU are sure?" the detective asked, slowly.
The girl turned, and regarded him de-
liberately, as if she could read in his
sightless eyes the thoughts that were passing
through his mind.
"Why do you ask me that so persistently, Mr.
Gaunt? I was not in or near the den yesterday,
or last night. Had I been, I should have no reason
for concealing the fact from you."
"I thought that perhaps you might have for-
gotten,” he replied, with unusual hesitancy. “It
is important that I should know who of this house-
hold visited that room, on no matter how innocent
an errand, during the hours preceding Garret
Appleton's death. You heard nothing unusual on
your return, nor at any time during the night?”.
"No, Mr. Gaunt; and I am a very light sleeper,
as is my sister. I cannot understand why the-
sound of that revolver-shot did not arouse some-
one, at least, in all this house."
“That is not unusual. The police records are
full of murder and suicide cases in crowded apart-
ment houses and tenements, where no one happens
to hear the shot fired, or, if they are awakened
60


THE SISTERS
61
a
se
suddenly by something, do not take the trouble to
investigate, since all seems then to be quiet around
them. But tell me, please: The first idea you
had of the murder was when you were awakened
by the screams of the maid who discovered the
body?”
“Yes. At first, when the terrible, piercing shrieks
awakened me, I thought the house was on fire. I
thrust my feet into slippers, Aung a heavy robe
about my shoulders, and rushed for my sister's
room. In the hall, however, it was borne in upon
my consciousness that the voice was crying ‘Mur-
der!' not 'Fire!' and, not knowing what it was,
but remembering my sister's delicate condition,
I felt that I must stop those awful screams before
she was disturbed, if possible, and frightened
half out of her senses. I turned and ran down-
stairs, following the direction of the cries, until
I came to the den. You know what I found
there."
“Who else of the household was there before
you?”
“The housemaid, Katie, of course. She it was
who had discovered the body. Maggie, the cook;
Dakers, the butler; James, Mr." Yates Appleton's
man; and Mrs. Finlay Appleton's maid, Marie.”
“What was their condition?”.
“I don't remember, Mr. Gaunt, I didn't notice
very much. I was appalled, stunned, by the sight
of my brother-in-law's body. The maids were in


62
AT ONE-THIRTY
hysterics, of course, and the butler in a state of
collapse. I remember seeing him crouched against
· the wall, with his face buried in his hands, and
James standing over him, shaking his shoulder,
and I think he kept repeating: 'You fool! You
fool!' but I cannot be sure. It is all like a horrible
dream. Then—then the rest came the family.”
“Which of them appeared first?”
"I don't know. I only remember my little sister
sobbing and shuddering in my arms, and Mrs.
Finlay Appleton standing there with her gray hair
all disheveled and her face as rigid as a death-
mask, staring down at the body of her son. I
only know that Yates appeared last, hanging to
the door-casing, as if he was afraid to enter the room,
and staring-staring horribly. Then—" the low
voice sank to a throbbing whisper, and ceased. .
“Then—what?” Gaunt urged, gently.
“Then-Mrs. Appleton seemed to realize his
presence, and she turned and spoke to him, and,
at her voice, he broke down and wept. After-
ward, when he was calmer, she sent him to dress
and go for you. 'Meantime, the butler had been
ordered to notify the police, and the officer and
Inspector came, and afterward the Coroner. The
rest you know.”
“Miss Ellerslie,” the detective's voice was very
gentle, "you have lived North with your sister
since her marriage?"
"No; only for the last year. I would have



A
SA
TCA
UF
9
TO
WINNER
"I only remember my little sister sobbing and shuddering
in my arms."





THE SISTERS
63
preferred living in my home in the South, but my
sister wanted me-needed me.”
"I understand," Gaunt returned. “I have had
an interview with Mrs. Finlay Appleton."
The low voice took on a saddened, weary tone,
inexpressibly pathetic.
"Ah! Then you know all, and more, than I
can tell you. Mrs. Appleton considers us inter-
lopers, almost adventuresses. Her dearest matri-
monial plans and ambitions for her eldest son were
shattered when he met my sister, and she has never
forgiven it, and never will. He-Garret-came
down to the Horse Show at Louisville with Brooks
Guernsey, in his private car. We-my sister and
I-were orphans. Our three brothers were dead,
too, and we were living with our uncle, a veteran
horseman, near Louisville. Garret fell in love with
my sister, and she was fascinated by him. He was
better-looking then, dissipation hadn't left any ap-
preciable traces upon his face, and I think she was
dazzled by his wealth and social position. He was
a sort of fairy-prince to her, poor child! She was
only eighteen. I am four years older. ... But
all this is irrelevant, isn't it?”
"No; go on, please. I want to hear everything."
“She married him, then, and came North, and
at first her letters were glowing. Later, she couldn't
keep her increasing unhappiness from straying into
them, and at last she begged mé to come to her.
I came, and saw the situation, and- I stayed. I


64
AT ONE-THIRTY
knew I was unwelcome, detested-oh, you can
imagine my almost unbearable position! But I
would not leave her, I would not be driven away,
because she clung to me, and we two were alone
in the world. My uncle, our last living relative,
died just after I came to New York.
“Garret's people, and Garret himself, hated me,
because I stood between her and what persecution
I was able to. We hoped—she and I-that, when
they knew she was going to have a child, they
would be more kind. Garret was utterly indif-
ferent; he was quite tired of her, longing to turn
back to a woman-but I must not speak of that!
As for Mrs. Appleton and Yates, they were wild
with rage. You understand, Mr. Gaunt, that the
birth of a child to Garret and Natalie robs Yates
of his full share of his father's fortune, and he is
the favorite of his mother. That was the condition
of affairs up to Garret's death.”
“A most unfortunate state of things, Miss Ellers-
lie,” Gaunt said, sympathetically. Then, after a
moment's hesitation, he added: “This is a deli-
cate question, but I must get at the root of the
matter, and only you can help me. Do you think-
please don't misunderstand me; I impute nothing
against the purity of your sister-but is it not
possible that she may have known a change of heart
since her marriage?”
"A change of heart?” the girl repeated. Then,
her tones deepened, and grew husky, and trembled
. I imit is
heart


THE SISTERS
65
with contemptuous indignation as she added: “Ah!
I see what you mean! They have even dared to
imply that! That, too, was to have been a part-”
She broke off suddenly, breathing quickly in great
gasps, her perfect control for once shaken. After
a pause, which the detective dared not break, she
went on in a more even voice:
"My sister could scarcely find warm love in her
heart for a man who used her as Garret Appleton
did. Her girlhood dream of the fairy-prince was
shattered forever. But she was the essence, the
soul, of loyalty. Had I not been able to read
between the lines of her unconscious confessions,
I should never have known from her letters what
misery she was enduring before I came, and she
has lied to me valiantly, when I found great bruises
and marks upon her arms and body, until lying
was no longer possible. She does not complain to
anyone, it would be against every attribute of
her nature; but people who frequent the house
could not be altogether blind to the conditions that
existed here. There is one man who has been
sympathetic. It may be that he loves her—I do
not know; but I am sure he has always shown her
the honor and respect due to another man's wife,
else she would have forbidden him the house, and
-she would have told me. She is impetuous,
warm-hearted, perhaps a little volatile in some
superficial ways; but there is nothing low or intrigu-
ing, nothing dishonorable, in her nature.”


66
AT ONE-THIRTY
“And you, yourself, Miss Ellerslie? You have
no plans for the future?”.
He heard the soft rustle of her gown as she
made a sudden, startled movement; then her
hands fell quietly in her lap.
“My engagement to Mr. Randolph Force, you
mean?" she queried, her voice lingering over the
name in an involuntary caress as she spoke.
The detective did not allow his surprise at this
hitherto undisclosed fact to manifest itself in his
face.
“That is a thing of the past. We were to have
been married this autumn; but I would not leave
my sister, in her sad condition. Now, it shall be
never. I shall marry no one. When this tragic
mystery is solved, or buried in oblivion, I shall
take her away from this dreadful house, back to
our home in the South, and try to help her to
forget these three awful years. There will only be
her little child to remind her, and it may in time
become a real comfort and solace to her.”
"But you?” exclaimed the detective. “Why have
you broken your engagement, Miss Ellerslie?”
“I shall break it,” she returned, with a hint
of withdrawal, of aloofness, in her tones; "because,
let us say, I have experienced a 'change of heart'
at any rate, that has nothing to do with the
present case, Mr. Gaunt.”
“I beg your pardon,” he said, rising. “I had no
desire to seem impertinent. I have one last re-
re-


THE SISTERS
67
quest to make of you: Will you allow me to touch
your hair? I know this must seem strange to
you; but we who are blind see mostly with our
fingers, you know. I am anxious to know the
color and texture of your hair."
"It is red," she replied, in a puzzled tone, "plain,
unmitigated red. My sister's is golden. But-
yes, you may feel it, if you like.”
Upon his frank mention of his affliction, her
resentment at his apparent prying into that which
lay nearest her heart had vanished, and her gentle
voice betrayed a deeply compassionate timbre
which reached to the man's very heart-strings,
as no pity, no tenderness, had ever done in all his
clouded life.
She leaned forward again, and once more the
clean, pure fragrance of her assailed him. He
placed his hand for an instant upon her soft hair,
and then withdrew it instantly, in a manner that
gave no hint of anything save the purely impersonal.
“Thank you," he said, quietly. “And thank
you, also, Miss Ellerslie, for replying to my seemingly
impertinent questions so frankly. My motives,
as you know, were not those of idle curiosity. Do
you think that I might venture to see Mrs. Apple-
ton, your sister, now, for just a few moments?”
"I will see. I think so, Mr. Gaunt. You will
remain here?”
“Yes. If you will have one of the servants let
me know, I will go to her.”


AT ONE-THIRTY
There was a soft rustle, a stirring of the air, and
a gentle receding footfall. Gaunt sat where she
had left him, a prey to sensations to which he had
in all the past been a stranger. What was the
peculiar, overmastering influence that this woman,
out of all persons with whom he had come in con-
tact, seemed unconsciously to exercise over him?
Her presence, her physical and mental nearness,
seemed to produce an intoxication, an exhilaration,
an inward reaching out toward her, to which he
could give no name. Could it be that he, the
keen, calculating dissector of human motives and
emotions, the automaton, from whose sightless
eyes the world of romance must be forever hidden,
was falling in love with a woman's voice, with the
indications, manifest to his wonderfully acute
intuition, of a pure and lovely nature? !
He pulled himself up short in his line of thought
with a strong effort of will. He was a detective,
an officer of the law, engaged in the perpetual
battle against crime. A dead man, who—no matter
what sins had blackened his private life, no matter
what evilness had sullied his nature--had been
foully done to his death, and lay separated from
him by only a wall or two, mutely begging for the
only justice left that could be meted out to him
in this world, demanding vengeance on his slayer!
And he, Damon Gaunt, who had answered that
silent call, who had accepted that sacred trust,
was idly allowing himself to drift into dangerous



.
He placed his hand for an instant upon her soft hair, then withdrew
it instantly.





70
AT ONE-THIRTY
make. She seems a little light-headed to me.
Please, please, spare her all you can!”
He bowed his head in silent reassurance, and she
turned the doorknob softly.
"Natalie, dear," she said, and he marveled
anew at the tender mother-note that deepened
in her tones, “ here is Mr. Gaunt. He must see
you alone for just a minute, dear. He will not
distress you; he is here as a friend, to help us
in our trouble. . . . Sit here, please.
She guided him to a soft, billowy, absurdly low
chair, and he heard the quiet closing of a door behind
her.
A little, dry, burning hand, like a bird's claw,
grasped his convulsively, and the shrill, high,
childlike voice of the morning cried out in an-
guished tones:
“Oh, Mr. Gaunt, who did it? Who killed my
husband?”
For reply he raised his head suddenly, and asked
sternly:
“Who else is in this room?”.
“Why, no one" began Natalie Appleton; but
a trembling, aged voice interrupted her.
"Hit's me, suh. Ah jes' couldn' bear ter go
'way an' leave mah chil 'lone wif yo'. She's
reel po'ly, an' she needs 'er oſ mammy. 'Sides
Ah wanter know what yo' gwine do ter 'er!"
“Why, Mammy Lu!” the girl-for she was little
more-cried out in distress. “I told you to go out
rais


THE SISTERS
71
- I told you! I want to talk to Mr. Gaunt alone.
Why didn't Miss Barbara see that you obeyed
me?"
“Mis' Ba'b'ra done tole me ter go; but I was
behine de do' w'en she done open hit,” the old
woman returned, rebelliously. “Ain' gwine to
have mah chil' flustrated no mo' dis day!”
"Well, you are going out immediately! Do you
hear me, Mammy Lu?”
Natalie sat up on her pillows, and waited until,
with much grumbling and dubious shaking of her
head, the old negress had taken her departure.
"There, she's gone!” Natalie sank back with an
exhausted air upon her couch. “I didn't intend
to deceive you, really, Mr. Gaunt. I didn't know
she was there. She brought us both up, Barbara
and me, and she takes liberties, sometimes.”
"That is all right, I quite understand,” he re-
turned, soothingly. “Let me arrange your pillows
for you. There!”
He deftly smoothed the pillows about the little
face, and contrived in so doing to get a strand of
her hair between his fingers. He paused for an
imperceptible instant of time, and then, patting a
cushion with his left hand, he deliberately took
a lock of her shining hair between the fingers of
his right, and felt it. It was soft and fine and
silky—the identical texture of the slender strand
which had wound around his fingers a few hours
before, the strand he had taken from the pendant


THE SISTERS
73
“Were you unhappy, depressed? You need
not be afraid to answer me frankly. I have talked
with Mrs. Appleton, and your brother-in-law and
sister. I know the situation between you and
your husband. You went up-stairs to be by your-
self?"
There was a pause, and then suddenly she doubled
her little fists, and beat upon the soft-padded arms
of her chaise-longue.
"Yes!” she burst out in a muffled voice, as if
from between clenched teeth. “Yes! I couldn't
stand it any longer! Her presence in my house,
the looks that passed between her and my hus-
band, the glances they cast at me! They showed
me so plainly, they showed that they were trying
to make me feel that I was an interloper, that I
stood between them and happiness. Oh! I am
not jealous, Mr. Gaunt; all that has passed long
ago. But I am proud. This was my home, and
I was being thrust aside, made to feel of no account,
a stumbling-block, whom they were forced to tol-
erate. It was horrible!”
“But you are sure, Mrs. Appleton? Perhaps
your—the state of your health makes you fanciful.
Perhaps your husband was only showing ordinary
courtesy to the daughter of an old friend.”
With a convulsive intake of her breath, she
opened her lips to speak; but no words came.
After a moment of silence, she said, in an oddly
constrained, repressed tone:
e


AT ONE-THIRTY
“Yes, I am sure—now!”
"Why now?” he asked, quickly.
“Because-oh, anyway, I-I ought to know, Mr.
Gaunt.” She spoke with child-like querulousness,
then went on quickly: “At any rate, I couldn't
bear to stay any longer watching her sitting there
in my drawing-room, talking and looking as if she
wished me out of the way. I thought that, if she
wanted to talk to my husband alone, I would
give her an opportunity; so I excused myself, and
came up to bed. I disrobed, and tried to read;
but the words all ran together in a jumble, and I
couldn't fix my mind on anything. I thought of
telephoning the doctor for a sleeping-powder-he
had told me when I felt very nervous and upset
to let him know. But then I remembered the
the people down-stairs, and that they would make
inquiries, and Garret would say I-I had done it
for effect. So, I decided to wait until Barbara
came home.”
· She paused, and Gaunt took her little hot hand
in his for an instant, in silent encouragement.
"And did you?” he urged her, gently.
: “Y-yes.” The high, bell-like voice, with the
little suggestion of her sister's in its drawling
sweetness, faltered, and then went on hastily:
“When she returned, Mammy Lu t-told her I
was nervous, and she came in, and we talked for
a little while, and she quieted me-she always can-
and I f-fell asleep.”,


THE SISTERS
75
Why did she hesitate, and stumble so over her
simple recital?
“You did not wait for your husband to come
up-stairs?"
"Oh, no!” the matter-of-fact tone was infinitely
pathetic in its unconsciousness. “Garret never
troubled to come in and say 'good night' to me
lately. He usually sits down in the the den—"
her trembling voice sank to a whisper; she had not
yet realized the truth fully; she had not yet learned
to speak of her husband in the past tense"until
long after everyone else in the house is asleep. He
stays there, drinking by himself until he is in a
stupor."
"I understand. Well, Mrs. Appleton, what is
the next thing you remember?” His voice was
still gentle, but it held a compelling, insistent
underlying note to which she involuntarily re-
sponded.
"I woke up with terrible screams ringing in my
ears, and I heard quick footsteps, as of someone
running along the hall and down the stairs. I
threw on something, and ran down, too. I heard
a commotion in the den, and rushed to it. Every-
one seemed to be there, the servants and all-all
but Mammy Lu. I found out later that she was
hiding up-stairs, frightened half to death. And
Yates—I didn't notice him anywhere. And then
-I saw Garret! He was sitting in his big chair
by the table, staring straight at me with awful,


76
AT ONE-THIRTY
bulging eyes, and there was a great red blotch on
his shirt-front. The-the next thing I knew, I
was in Barbara's arms, hiding my face on her
shoulder to keep from seeing Garret. I don't
remember what happened after that, except begging
some strange men-police officers, I think they
were-to let me leave that dreadful room, and
come up here."
“Mrs. Appleton,” Gaunt's voice was very grave,
“at what time were you in the den yesterday?”.
“In the--d-den?” she stammered; and the
detective could hear the silken coverlet shiver
with her involuntary start. “I-I haven't been
in the den. I can't remember when I was there
last-days ago, any way. Why d-did you ask
me that?”
“Think, Mrs. Appleton. Try to remember,"
he urged, his gravity deepening, as he ignored her
question. “You were in the den, you know!
Think!”
“But I wasn't! I wasn't! What do you mean?
What are you trying to insinuate!” her voice rose
shrilly, in hysterical trepidation.
“Don't you remember?” he persisted, a note of
sternness creeping into his tones. • “You caught
your hair on that brass hanging lamp.”
While she watched him, in terrified fascination,
he drew slowly from his vest-pocket the telltale
strand of hair, and, gripping one end firmly between
his fingers, he held it out to her.
sti
een


THE SISTERS
“See! This is your hair, isn't it? It matches
yours. I found it caught on one of the swinging
pendants of the lamp.”
She snatched at it, in a frenzy of terror.
“It's not mine!” she screamed. “I thought
you were blind! How can you tell?”
“Think, Mrs. Appleton," he repeated, sternly.
“When were you in the den? When did you catch
your hair on the lamp?”
There was silence, while she draw a deep, quiver-
ing breath, like a hurt animal. At last, she gave
a little shuddering, hysterical laugh, which ended in
a strangling gasp.
“Why—why, of course," she breathed with a
catch in her trembling voice. “How-how stupid
of me! I was in the den the day before yester-
no, yesterday morning! I went to-to-s-see if
the maid had dusted properly. I-I remember
catching my hair on that s-silly old lamp. Garret
would have it hung so low!”
"Ah! I thought you would remember.” Gaunt
quietly replaced the strand of hair in his pocket;
and she saw that he knew her suddenly awakened
remembrance for the shallow lie that it was, and
shuddered.
To her infinite relief, he rose, and took her tremb-
ling little hand, which had turned suddenly icy-
cold, in his.
“Well, Mrs. Appleton, I won't worry you with
questions any longer. You must try to get some


78
AT ONE-THIRTY
rest now. I shall do my best to find the person
who is responsible for this morning's tragedy,
be sure of that. I will drop in on you again when
you are able to see me.”
But young Mrs. Appleton did not seem to have
heard. Her effort at self-control had been too
much, and she appeared on the verge of collapse.
“Barbara!” she moaned. “Barbara! Barbara!”
“Miss Ellerslie!” he called. There was no need
for a second summons. He heard an inner door
open, and a swift rush of her light feet, and in an
instant she had gathered the girl in her arms.
Natalie Appleton clung to her, and broke into
wild weeping.
"I'm afraid our little talk has been too much for
your sister,” Gaunt explained, smoothly. “I will
leave her with you.”
She paid no attention to him, and he made his
way quietly from the room, closing the door gently
behind him. But, as he felt his way along the hall
toward the stairs, he heard young Mrs. Appleton's
voice raised in a strangling scream:
“Oh, Barbara! He knows! He knows!”


CHAPTER V
“CAIN!”
Y AUNT encountered Katie, the housemaid,
in the hall, and she guided him back to
the library.
“Oh, sir,” she asked, at the door, “have you
found out anything? Does the Inspector gentle-
man know what—what happened to Mr. Apple-
ton?”
"Not yet,” he returned. “You will all know as
soon as the family does.”
“Oh, thank you, sir!” she stammered.
“Will you send the butler-Dakers—to me,
please?”
“Yes, sir."
Dakers was tardy in coming, and in the mean-
time Gaunt turned over in his mind the result
of his last interview. So young Mrs. Appleton, too,
had been in that fatal room during the previous
night! That telltale strand of hair had given her
away, and her agitation, her terror, her palpable
falsehood, had betrayed her no less than the last
despairing cry he had overheard. It was incred-
ible that she had fired the shot which killed her
husband. Yet she was maddened by his abuse of
her, and his open attention to another woman
79


“CAIN!”
the tray; but his expression changed somewhat
when Gaunt, after passing his finger-tips lightly
over the silver tops of the salt- and pepper-shakers,
selected the one with the smallest perforations, and
poured a bit of its contents into his hand. He felt
it delicately with his finger, and then turned to the
waiting servant.
“This is white pepper," he remarked, quietly.
“I prefer the black. Will you bring me some,
please?”
With prompt servility, not untinged with re-
spectful awe, Dakers obeyed, and when Gaunt,
satisfied, pushed away his cup and plate, and
addressed him, he replied obsequiously.
“You are the butler? How old are you, Dakers?”
"Fifty-six, sir. I've been with the Appleton
family for nine years. Before that I was with the
Staceys and the Postleys—”.
“That's all right, Dakers. I don't want your
pedigree. I want to know what you can tell me
about this affair."
"I, sir? Nothing, sir,” the butler replied, with
an air of injured innocence.
“What did you do last night, after you served
dinner?”
“I attended to my usual duties, sir. Locked
up the silver, and carried the decanter and ice
and siphon up to the—the den,” he stammered
over the word as the others had done, “for Mr.
Appleton to use later, just as I always do. Then


82
AT ONE THIRTY
I went down to the servant's dining-room-that's
in the front basement, sir-and stayed until the
family had retired, and it was time to lock up the
house. Then I went to bed.”
“You heard nothing during the night?”
“Nothing, sir, until Katie's screams woke me.
I thought first of burglars. I remembered the
plate under my charge, and I hurried down.”
"And then what?”
“When I saw the poor master, sir, I–I don't
know what I did, I was that shocked. I went all
to pieces, sir."
“Who was there before you?”
“1-I hardly know, sir. Katie the housemaid,
and Marie, and the cook, I think, and Mr. Yates'
man, James.”
“Then the family came?”
“Yes, sir. James tried to buck me up, and,
when I'd pulled myself together a bit, Mrs. Finlay
Appleton sent me out to notify the police. That's
all I know, sir.”
“After you attended to your usual duties, did
you serve anything to the family during the evening?'
“Yes, sir. A grenadine lemonade to the ladies-
Mrs. Finlay Appleton and Miss Carhart-and
Scotch highballs to Judge Carhart and Mr. Apple-
ton.”
"Nothing to Mrs. Garret Appleton?”
“No, sir. She had retired when I served them.”
“Did you come up-stairs again before locking up?"


“CAIN!”
83
le
“Yes, sir. To open the door for Judge Carhart
and Miss Carhart when they left. After that, I
locked the house."
"You did not admit Miss Ellerslie?”
"No; she had her keys. She expected to be
out until very late. It was Mr. Appleton's orders,
sir. I never waited up for Mr. Yates.”
“And then you went directly to bed?”
“Yes, sir."
“That will do, Dakers, thank you. Ask Marie
to come here, please.”
- "Very good, sir.” Dakers picked up his tray,
and departed.
Had the man really "something up his sleeve,”
as Inspector Hanrahan had suspected? He had
seemed guilelessly prompt in his replies; but his
servility was misleading, and the detective did not
like his manner of licking his lips, like a cat. The
man's manner suggested slyness; but Gaunt did
not credit him with enough intelligence to conceal
any important evidence, should he possess it.
Marie heralded her entrance with a quick tapping
of pointed finger-nails upon the door, and exuded
a slight odor of the delicate perfume, when she
approached, that Gaunt had previously noticed in
the presence of the elder Mrs. Appleton. Evidently,
the maid had taken a secret dip into her mistress'
scent bottle, in honor of this interview-a touch of
coquetry inherent in those of her nationality. She
was a sallow, angular, sharp-featured woman of


84
AT ONE-THIRTY
middle age, with bold, black eyes, and full, scarlet
lips, and she flashed a respectful, ingratiating smile
at him, with a gleam of her even, white teeth,
forgetting for the moment that it was wasted.
"I am here, m'sieu. I am Marie.”
“Will you tell me, Marie, what happened when
you rushed to the den this morning, in response to
the housemaid's cries?”
“Weeth plaisir, m'sieu. I was ze firs' to respon’.
Katee was still shr-rieking, and the poor M'sieu
Appleton—but zat you know. I scream once, me,
also, an' zen I try to quiet Katee. Zen ze cook,
she have come, and Dakairs and James, an'zen
Mees Ellerslie. Aftair zat, arrive Madame Apple-
ton and la petite madame, an', at ze last, M'sieu
Yates."
“Marie, do you remember exactly what happened
when Mrs. Finlay Appleton turned from her son's
body, and saw her younger son standing in the
doorway? Did you hear the words she said to
him?”
"Yes, m'sieu. She pointed her hand at him,
like zis-oh, I forget! Pardon, m'sieu!—and she
say, 'Cain!' Joost zat one leetle word, 'Cain!””
"Ah!” the detective permitted the involuntary
ejaculation of satisfaction to escape him. Then
he added: “And Mr. Yates Appleton—what did
he reply?”
“He say, 'Mon Dieu!'-no, in Engleesh—'My
God! Not zat—not zat!' An' he seenk down


“CAIN!”
85
on his knees, zere een ze doorway, an' put hees
hands to hees face, an' sob, joost like a leetle
chil', an' ze tears tr-reeckle down between hees fin-
gairs.”
"Thank you, Marie. That is all I wanted to
know. Er-you heard nothing during the night?”
“Nosing, m'sieu. Onlee” The woman hesi-
tated.
"Only what?” the detective asked, sharply.
“Mees Ellerslie, m'sieu. She have ze room
directly ondairneath mine, an' she walk, walk,
most of ze night; but nearly ze morning have ar-
rive all ees quiet, an' I sleep. Zat ees all, I have
hear. No report of a pistol.”
“Very well, Marie. That will do. But, before
you go, I should like to know if your mistress,
Mrs. Appleton, permits you to take her perfume
for your personal use.”
“Her pairfume? I-I do not comprehend, m'sieu!
I do not touch ze pairfume of madame.”
“You have a touch of it upon you now. I should
advise you to be more careful, if you wish to retain
your place.”
"Ah, m'sieu, eet was an accident-ze bottle
teeped, an' I ’ave speel a few drops. Eeet ees
nosing. M'sieu, I pray, weel say no word of eet to
madame!” The brazen flare in her voice was
replaced by an anxious note.
“Very well, Mary; but be careful. Please,
send Dakers to me again.”


“CAIN!"
sion would permit. I merely attempted to recall
a certain incident to Mrs. Appleton's mind and
succeeded.”
"So that was why you wished to touch my hair!
I could not imagine-” She broke off abruptly,
then added: “If you had told me, Mr. Gaunt,
if you had shown me the strand of hair you found
entangled in the pendant of the lamp, I could
have told you that my sister was in the den yester-
day morning."
“You knew it, then?” The question was shot
quickly at her.
"Certainly, since I suggested it,” she replied
composedly. “Garret had been complaining that
his den was not properly dusted and put in order,
and I did not want any further aspersions to be
cast upon my sister's housekeeping ability or
inclination by those members of the household
who were hostile to her. . . . But you sent for
me, Mr. Gaunt, I believe? I do not want to
remain away from my sister any longer than is
absolutely necessary. Her condition is quite alarm-
ing. She seems to be almost delirious, and I have
sent a messenger for the doctor.”
"I am sorry," Gaunt said once more. “I will
not detain you long. You told me, when I talked
with you before, if you remember, that this morning,
at the time of the discovery of the crime, when
Mrs. Finlay Appleton turned from the body of her
elder son, and saw the younger standing in the door-


88
' AT ONE-THIRTY
way, she spoke to him, and he broke down and
wept. What did she say to him?”
“I don't know.” Barbara Ellerslie's hesitation
was apparent. “I did not hear distinctly, and my
whole attention was given to my sister.”
"You heard something, however indistinct.
What did it sound like? A long sentence or short?"
"Oh, very short. Just a-a word, I think-a
single word.”
“Was that word 'Cain,' Miss Ellerslie?”
“Please don't ask me, Mr. Gaunt!” The dis-
tressed cry was wrung from her. “Remember,
my brain was overwrought, distraught! If I
fancied that was said, and repeated it, it would
look like a deliberate accusation, without a shadow
of proof and beyond the bounds of probability,
and I–I will not seem to cast such an imputation
on anyone. If that is what I imagined I heard,
my ears may have misled me. Mrs. Appleton,
for all her outward calm when you arrived, must
have been as overwrought as I–and more, since
it was her son who lay dead before her. One
should not be judged by what one says or does in
the madness of such a moment. There is little
kindliness on my heart toward her and hers, God
knows; yet justice is justice!”.
"I understand, Miss Ellerslie, and I am an-
swered. Did Mr. Yates Appleton reply, as he
broke down, ‘My God! Not that! Not that!'?”.
“Really, I cannot tell you. It-it sounded some-


"CAIN!"
89
U anv
thing like that to me; but I cannot commit my-
self. I paid little or no attention. I cannot,
will not, make any statement concerning it! And
now, Mr. Gaunt may I return to my sister? She
needs me. It is not safe to leave her now in Mammy
Lu's care alone, even for a moment.”
“Yes, Miss Ellerslie. I will not detain you any
longer. Thank you for coming down again. I
may perhaps call tomorrow, when I hope your
sister will be better. Please, assure her that she
need not be afraid of me.” Then, as he felt her
eyes fixed upon him in sudden, questioning sus-
picion, he added with a smile: “I am not quite
an ogre!”
"I will tell her, Mr. Gaunt,” her voice was
reassured, but infinitely sad, as she said, in an
afterthought, "when she is able to understand.
She seems very, very ill. I am in fear for her
safety, her reason. Let me know, of course, if
there is anything further that I can do, can tell
you. And if any further developments occur,
I should like to know of them, for all our sakes.
Good-by.”
She left the room, and for a few moments the
detective sat buried in thought. How loyally,
how valiently, she had lied for the woman up-
stairs! And yet she might have been sticking to
the letter of the truth; her sister might have gone
to inspect the den the previous morning. But
that she had visited it later, sometime, in fact,


“CAIN!”
“Not very much. There's something I want
you to do for me, though. Find out for me the
hour Mr. Yates Appleton left the Patriarchs'
Club last night.”
“What's that?” the Inspector asked, in eager
surprise.
“Oh, not what you think it is!” smiled Gaunt.
“I know where he was all the rest of the night.
It's no question of an alibi. I just want to know
the exact time he left the club, and I haven't time
to look it up, myself. The door-man can tell
you; and possibly some of the waiters, or card-
room attendants, can corroborate him.”
“All right, Mr. Gaunt; I'll attend to it.”
"And you might drop around to my rooms to-
night, if you find this out in the meantime, and can
spare an hour. I may have a few pointers for
you."
“I will."
Gaunt's chauffeur was waiting in the vestibule
to pilot him unobtrusively to his machine; but
once he was ensconced, and the engine cranked,
they remained stationary
“What's the matter, Saunders ?” the detective
asked, through the tube.
“'Nother car and an undertaker's wagon blockin'
the way, sir.”
: An undertaker's wagon! The last act of the
tragedy of the night was about to be enacted for
Garret Appleton, and the curtain rang down upon
wa
re


“CAIN!”
93
any more, let me know; but get the truth if you
can, no matter what it costs."
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
Jenkins, Gaunt's man, fell upon him anxiously
at the door.
“Glad you've come, sir!” he exclaimed. “Miss
Barnes has been hoping you'd be back for three
hours, or more. Three telegrams and two long-
distance calls from Newport. Big jewel robbery
at the Fahnestock place! Shall I pack?"
“No, Jenkins. Can't take it," Gaunt replied,
laconically. “I'm on a case now, as you very well
know.”
“I, sir?" inquired Jenkins, with an air of inno-
cence. “I remember a gentleman called this
morning, and you went out with him; but how
should I know you were on a case, sir?”
“Because you've got an evening paper in your
hand at this moment. I can hear it rattle. And
it's the latest edition-probably an extra-not
the early-afternoon one we always take anyway;
for I can smell fresh ink upon it. You read of the
case, and my connection with it, in the afternoon
paper, and sent out and got another, later one.
You can't fool me, Jenkins."
As the detective turned toward the library,
Jenkins murmured after the departing figure:
"No, I'm blest if I can! You can see more with-
out eyes than most men can with 'em!


CHAPTER VI
THE CUFF LINK
TISS BARNES, look back over the news-
paper files in the store-room, in the
society news of, say, three, four, five,
and six years ago, and read me whatever you find
relating to the Appleton family, at East Sixty-
eighth Street, will you?”
Gaunt was stretched out at ease in his own
familiar, favorite chair, pipe in mouth, and Scrap-
per, the bull-terrier, at his feet. He was thinking
over the evidence gathered during the day's in-
vestigation, sifting the wheat from the chaff, and
he found it no easy task. He had, in the course
of his career, become interested in many baffling
cases, but none that presented such complications,
such a multiplicity of possible motives and pos-
sible culprits. Yates Appleton, at war with his
brother over that which was to him the most
vital thing in life, money; the wife, maddened
by abuse and jealousy; the other girl, who had so
plainly betrayed her love for him.
The detective made no mistake in his analysis
of the situation that had existed between Doris
Carhart and Garret Appleton. Here was no vul-
gar intrigue. That he had been as much in love
04


THE CUFF LINK
95
with her as she so obviously with him, and that
the wife had stood between, was possible, even
probable.
But the girl was of a type readily recognized by
Gaunt, a type prevalent everywhere in America
at least; particularly so in New York society:
the flirt incarnate, the girl, who, in spirit half-
wanton, half-puritan, plays with fire, yet holds
herself rigidly aloof from the all-consuming flame.
It might be that she had been fascinated by the
malicious delight of a flirtation, with a married
man, carried on under his helpless wife's eyes,
careless of the suffering she caused, and had dis-
covered that in the process her own heart had been
singed, but no more. Perhaps she had hoped that
a divorce might be arranged, and she step into
Natalie's shoes; but the prospect of an heir had
precluded that. Perhaps—who could tell, now?
-he had tired of what was to him a purposeless
game, and had told her, on that momentous even-
ing, that they had come to the parting of their
ways. In any event, might she not have returned
stealthily for a final interview, previously arranged
between them, and, in a moment of madness,
slain him, determined that, since she could not
possess him before the world, no other woman
should? In that case, her horror and astonish-
ment of the morning had been consummately sim-
ulated, and her nerve and courage supreme. He
believed her capable of it; but it seemed scarcely


THE CUFF LINK
97
"Who is it, please?” he asked quietly, as she
remained tongue-tied.
“'Tis me, sor, Katie Gerahty. I'm house-
maid at the Appleton's—”
"Aye, yes. Come in, Katie. . . . Jenkins, that
will do. Now, Katie, what is it you wished to see
me about?”
“'Twas me that found the--the corpse, sor.
I've been expectin' all day long that you'd ask for
me; but you didn't, an', when I found you'd
gone, I thought I'd better come after you.”
"I understand. I hadn't time to interview all
of you today, and I thought Inspector Hanrahan
had talked to you."
“Sure, he had, sor, an' a fine bully he is, too.
He'd get nothin' out of me, if I died for it, talkin'
to me as if I'd killed the poor master meself! I
found his body, sor—but I found something else
beside, an' though I wouldn't give the Inspector
the satisfaction of gettin' it from me, I'm an honest
girl, an' I don't keep nothin' that don't belong to
me.”
“And what was it that you found, Katie? You
did right to bring it to me.” Gaunt with difficulty
restrained his eagerness.
"This, sor.” She approached, and placed in
his outstretched hand a small, golden object. His
fingers closed quickly over it, and he felt it all over
with minute care.
It was a man's gold cuff-link, of the sort that are


98
AT ONE-THIRTY
SOI
sometimes given to ushers at weddings, save that
the initials on one side, and the date on the other,
instead of being cut in, were raised, and of a plain
block design. The detective's delicate, sure finger-
tips spelled out for him the figures, 1911, and on
the other side the letters, Y. A.
“And where did you find this, Katie?”
“In the den, sor, right by the door, when I
first went in. Like enough it had rolled or been
dropped there."
“How did you happen to notice it, with Mr.
Appleton sitting there dead before you?”
“Well, you see, sor, it was kinder dark in the den
when I opened the door-only the one window
open and the shade up and the side' curtains half-
hiding that. I wasn't what you might call waked
up for the day, either, and, when I seen Mr. Apple-
ton sittin' there in his chair, I thought he was
sleeping. 'Twouldn't be the first time that I'd
come down, savin' your presence, and found him
stupid drunk there from the night before. Then
I seen something shinin' at my feet, an' I picked
it up, and afterward went clost to Mr. Appleton
to wake him if I could-and there was that bloody
splash on his shirt-front, and the awful dead face
of him starin' up at me. I screeched then, sor.
In th' excitement after, I forgot all about the cuff-
button that I dropped in me apron-pocket, until
that Inspector began asking me ugly questions
in the way of him, and sure I just wouldn't let on


THE CUFF LINK
about it. I was afraid after to give it to one of
the family; so I thought I'd better bring it to you.”
“Very well, Katie. I will see that it reaches
the owner.” Then, as the girl seemed to hesitate,
he asked: “Is there anything more you wanted
to tell me?"
“Yes, sor. 'Tis about that French thing—that
maid, Marie. Before you come this mornin',
she slipped away from the crowd of us around
the door of the den, and I-well, I followed her.
She had a funny look on her face, and—well, to
tell you the truth, sor, she's no friend of mine.
We had a difference about a young man-but
that's neither here nor there. When I come up
with her, she was usin' the telephone in the back
hall. I heard her say, 'It is true, ma'm' selle, he
is dead-murdered! I thought that you would
wish to know privately, so as to be prepared for
the shock when the news reaches your house.'
Then she hanged up the receiver with a bang.”
"To whom do you think she was speaking,
Katie? Have you any idea?” The detective
paused and then, as the girl made no answer, he
added: “To Miss Doris Carhart, by any chance?”
“How did you know, sor?” The girl's surprised
exclamation was involuntary; but she went on
hastily: "Of course, I have no proof, but-well,
you know how servants sometimes sees more than
they're supposed to. I have been thinkin' for a
long time that there was some carryings-on between


100
AT ONE-THIRTY
Mr. Appleton and the Judge's daughter, and that
this Marie was kinder helping them out. 'Twas
just a suspicion of mine, an' I'm not paid to carry
no tales."
"I understand, Katie. I won't quote you.
You are a very bright girl, and you have helped me
a lot. If you see anything going on that you think
I ought to know, come to me, here. I'll make it
worth your while. ... By the way, Katie, why
don't you wear glasses? You're very near-sighted,
and you should have it corrected. You don't
want to become like me, you know," he added,
with a smile.
"My eyes do be troublin' me a lot, sir. I don't
see how you know about that!” Her round eyes
grew wider as she spoke.
“Your ankles are weak, too. You should wear
stouter shoes,” he commented. “You stumble
a little, and you are a little uncertain in your walk,
also, although you are not heavy-footed. You
take very short steps, and plant your heel down
first. That shows you are near-sighted, and afraid
to strike out, because of turning your ankle and
falling.”
"Well, sor, it beats all how you knew; but it's
true!” Katie backed away toward the door as she
spoke, and felt desperately behind her for the
knob. She desired above all things to get away
from this uncanny presence. “I-I'll come again,
sor, if I hear anything more!” And she departed.


THE CUFF LINK
101
After the girl had gone, Gaunt sat for some
moments turning the cuff-button over and over in
his hands. Out of the seemingly hopeless array of
conflicting evidence, some facts began to dove-
tail magically, and to suggest an almost impossible
hypothesis, from which the detective, accustomed
as he was to studies of the darker side of human
nature, shrank.
The reappearance of Miss Barnes put an end to
his reflections for the time being.
"I have found several references, Mr. Gaunt,”
she said, "in the society news of five and six years
ago to the Appleton family; but they are merely
announcements of receptions, dinners, dances, and
so forth, although you may wish me to read you
the lists of the guests. But four years ago
four years last April, to be exact-there is the
announcement of the engagement between Mr.
Garret Appleton and Miss Doris Carhart, daughter
of Judge Anthony Carhart, of the Supreme Court.
Three months later, in July of the same year, there
is an announcement of the breaking of that en-
gagement.”
“That was something I had not looked for,”
Gaunt murmured to himself. Then aloud: “Go
on, please, Miss Barnes.”
"I thought you might like me to look up, also,
while I was among these old files, any articles I
might find referring to the Carharts."
The detective smiled in grateful appreciation.


102
AT ONE-THIRTY
“I find that in October of the previous year,
five years ago-Miss Carhart made her début, and
in December of that year she was bridesmaid at
the Lancaster-Dubois wedding. All other refer-
ences are practically the same as those relating to
the Appleton family-invitations to social affairs
at their house, or appearances at the opera. In
November, four months after the breaking of the
engagement with Miss Carhart, comes the announce-
ment of Mr. Appleton's engagement to Miss
Natalie Ellerslie, of Louisville, Kentucky, and.
in the following March, that of their marriage,
All the later references to them which I have been
able to discover are merely those of social affairs,
and among the guests listed Miss Carhart's name
and Judge Carhart's appear almost invariably.”
“Thank you very much, Miss Barnes, and now
—what time is it please?”
As if in answer, six silvery notes sounded from the
bronze clock on the mantel, and Gaunt, taking
up the telephone receiver, called up the Bryant
Chambers, and asked for Mr. Maurice Livingston.
“This is Mr. Livingston. Who is it, please?”
came in a hearty, good-natured voice over the
wire.
“Mr. Gaunt is speaking—Mr. Damon Gaunt.
You have, no doubt, Mr. Livingston, heard of the
sudden death of Mr. Garret Appleton. I have
been retained by the family to investigate matters
for them. In the course of my work, I have inter-


THE CUFF LINK
103
Ten min
viewed Mr. Yates Appleton, and, as a mere matter
of form, I should like to see you, if you can spare
me a few moments, to corroborate some of his
statements.”
"If you can come at once, Mr. Gaunt, I shall
be glad to give you any assistance in my power.
I have a dinner engagement at seven o'clock.”
“I can be with you in ten minutes, Mr. Liv-
ingston.”
.“Very good.”
The receiver clicked, and Gaunt summoned
Jenkins for his hat and coat, and to call a taxi-
cab. Jenkins, too, accompanied him to Bryant
Chambers, and, under the guidance of the hall-
boy, conducted him to the door of Mr. Livingston's
apartment, after which he returned to the cab,
to wait.
The detective was admitted by a haughty English
valet, and conducted to the living-room. After
a few moments' delay, he heard a brisk, buoyant
step, and the voice that had replied to him over
the telephone sounded in his ears."
“Sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr. Gaunt;
but I was dressing. Terrible thing that about
poor Garret. Yates must be completely knocked
out."
Gaunt turned in the direction of the voice, and
his foot inadvertently touched the projecting claw
foot of the table.
“I don't see why Parker didn't turn the rest of


104
AT ONE-THIRTY
the lights on,” his host exclaimed irritably, as
he pressed the button in the wall.
"The lights make no difference to me, Mr.
Livingston. I am blind.”
“You-oh, I see! I beg your pardon. Why,
I have heard of you, of course. You were the
man who worked out those famous Delamater
murders. By Jove! Sit down, Mr. Gaunt, and
tell me what I can do for you. Will you
have a cigar? These are of Porto Rican tobacco,
made for me.”
“Thank you. But, Mr. Livingston, your cigar-
maker must have been mistaken in his blend.
These are the shape and size of Porto Ricos, but
the tobacco is Havana.”
"Is it? By Jove! I ordered Porto Ricos.”
- "Can't you tell the difference?” asked the
detective, with a smile.
"Not unless they are lighted, and not always
then. I thought I was something of a connois-
seur of tobacco; but you have me beaten. They're
identical in color.”
“Some growths are; but the odor is unmistakable,
if your nose is trained to distinguish the difference.
Then, too, feel the shape of the leaf, even as tightly
rolled as these are. They are undoubtedly Ha-
vana. But I did not come to take up your time
by an idle discussion concerning tobacco. I came
for some information which only you can give
me.”


THE CUFF LINK
105
been to the thing in when he appea in, too,” the
“You wanted to ask me something about Yates
Appleton, didn't you?”
“Yes, I wanted to know what time he got to your
rooms, last night. About one o'clock?”.
"Just about-I could not say exactly. I had
been to the theater and supper, and was just
thinking of turning in when he appeared.”
“Nice state he must have been in, too,” the
detective remarked, with studied carelessness;
"with one cuff flying open.”
"Yes!” laughed Mr. Livingston, with the hearty
stomach laugh of a fat man. “I had to lend him
a pair of cuff-buttons. He seemed awfully worked
up and excited; but then he was a bit-well, you
know.”
“Yes,” Gaunt smiled, “I know. . . . You have
known Mr. Yates Appleton long, Mr. Living-
ston?”
“Known him and his brother all my life,” the
other returned. “This shock may pull Yates up
and steady him. It's a frightful affair. Garret
Appleton was shot by a burglar during the night,
wasn't he?”
"That is the case as it stands now,” replied the
detective. “You cannot give me any more definite
information as to the time Mr. Yates Appleton
called on you last night, can you?”
"Sorry, I can't. My man had gone to bed, and
I was-well, to tell you the truth, Mr. Gaunt, I
was a little foggy myself.”
wa


106
AT ONE-THIRTY
Gaunt laughed.
"All right, Mr. Livingston; I quite understand.
I won't detain you any longer. Thank you for
allowing me to intrude upon you in this way.”
“Oh, it was no intrusion at all, I assure you.
I'll be only too glad to help in any way I can. Call
on me any time you like.”
On the way back to his rooms, in the taxi, Gaunt
mused over the information he had just received.
Yates Appleton's friend had, indeed, corroborated
the statement, although in so vague a fashion,
as to the time of the call upon him; but, on the
other hand, he had all unwittingly corroborated
the damning evidence of the little link of gold-
the link in the disconnected chain of events which
proved that some time during the evening Yates
had returned to his home, had been in the room
where a few hours later his brother was found
done to death. If the testimony of the attendants
at the club should show that Yates Appleton really
left there at about midnight, as he had said, it
would leave a rather close margin of time for him
to have gone home, held an interview of what-
ever nature with his brother, and arrived at the
rooms of Maurice Livingston by one. A great deal
depended now upon Saunders' success in obtain-
ing information from the Appleton chauffeur as
to where he had driven the car from the time
of leaving the club to the arrival at Bryant Cham-
bers.


THE CUFF LINK
107
His simple dinner over, the detective sat in his
library, waiting the promised visit of Inspector
Hanrahan with ill-concealed impatience. One
problem of the morning kept recurring to his mind:
Mrs. Finlay Appleton must have thought her
younger son guilty of the murder, else she would
‘not have turned from the body of Garret with
the cry of, “Cain!" upon her lips. Yet, why,
in that case, had she proceeded immediately to
obtain the services of a detective of wide repute,
to investigate the murder and discover the cul-
prit?
But stay! Had he been retained to discover
the truth, or, as Yates had informed him, to pre-
vent as much of the police interference as possible?
Would Mrs. Finlay Appleton or her son later
approach him in an attempt to influence him by
a bribe, or otherwise to cloak the true facts of the
case in their interest?
The inspector arrived about nine.
“Mr. Yates Appleton left the club about ten
minutes of twelve, Mr. Gaunt. The carriage-
starter says so, and the coat-room boy confirms
him, because Mr. Appleton particularly asked
him the time. ... Got anything new, sir? There
is nothing in that Louis Lantelme theory. The
man's alibi proved to be complete.”
“Did you get any more out of Dakers, the
butler?” the detective asked, after a pause.
“No, sir."


CHAPTER VII
THIRTY PIECES OF SILVER
CAUNDERS, the chauffeur, presented him-
self bright and early the following morning;
but his ruffled manner was expressive of
defeat.
“Sorry, sir,” he commenced. “I found your
man all right-Mr. Appleton's chauffeur. I spent
your ten and another five--no man who drinks
like that has any right to run a car. But I
couldn't get a thing out of him of much account,
except that nothing happened to Mr. Appleton's
hand that he knew anything about. He left the
club a little before twelve, drove round town for
awhile, and then to Bryant Chambers. There
they picked up a friend of Mr. Appleton's, and went
on around town for a couple of hours, stopping
at two or three all-night cafés. At about three
o'clock in the morning, the chauffeur took both the
young gentlemen home. That's all I could find
out, sir; but,"
"But, what Saunders?”
“Well, sir, it looked to me like the fellow wasn't
telling me the truth, altogether. He hemmed and
hawed, and had kind of a sly way with him when
he was talking, though he talked quick enough.
109


110
AT ONE-THIRTY
I had a kind of an idea that he was onto me-
that he knew I was trying to get something out
of him.”
“Very well, Saunders. You have done the best
you could.
“Here is the extra money you have spent, and
another five for yourself. Got the car waiting
outside?”
"Yes, sir-thank you, sir.”
“Then I think I will have you take me up to
the Appleton house. There is something I over-
looked yesterday,”
But Gaunt got no further. As he turned to press
the button in the wall to summon Jenkins, that
indefatigable person appeared in the door, and his
apologetic cough held a slightly perturbed note.
"Excuse me, Mr. Gaunt. There's a man down-'
stairs who wants to see you. He's very-per-
sistent, sir. Says his name's Dakers.”
“Very well, Jenkins. Hold him below for two
or three minutes, until Saunders gets out. ...
Saunders,” he turned to where the chauffeur
stood fingering his cap, beside the table, "go
down and wait in the car. I sha'n't be long. I've
changed my mind about going to the Appleton
house; but I shall want you to take me somewhere
else, immediately."
“Very good, sir. I'll be cranked up, waiting."
Dakers! The suave, servile butler of the Apple-
tons! The man whom Inspector Hanrahan felt


THIRTY PIECES OF SILVER
111
sure had “ something up his sleeve"! Had he
discovered some facts which he felt to be of im-
portance, in the hours that had elapsed since the
detective had interviewed him the previous day;
or had he, for some purpose of his own, withheld
certain knowledge in his possession, until he felt
it to be no longer politic, or even safe, to do so? ]
In a few moments, Jenkins' step could be heard
approaching, accompanied by the stealthy, cat-
like tread that Gaunt remembered from the day
before, and Dakers stood before him.
The detective did not speak until his man had
retired, and then he took a bold lead:
"Well, Dakers,” he said, quietly, "you've de-
cided to make a clean breast of it, have you? Sit
down, and be sure this time that you tell me the
truth.”
"It was the truth that I told you yesterday,
sir, I assure you, sir, only—only, it wasn't all the
truth. There was something about the night
before, sir, that I-I didn't mention.”
"I thought not. Well, go on-out with it!” .
"It was all just as I told you, sir. I attended
to my usual duties, putting away the silver after
dinner, serving refreshments to the family during
the evening, placing the decanter and glasses in
the den, opening the door for Judge Carhart and
Miss Carhart when they left, and then locking
up the house. I went to bed. But I couldn't
sleep, and I got up after a bit, and came down-


112
AT ONE-THIRTY
stairs again to get a-a little something for my-
self, sir."
“A drink-whisky?”
"A-a little brandy, sir. I was very much sur-
prised when I came near the den, to hear voices-
loud, angry voices. I thought at first Mr. Garret
was talking to himself. He does, sometimes, when
he's alone, in the night like that, sir. But then I
heard two voices, and I-I recognized the second
one."
The man paused, his voice trembling huskily.
“Who was it?” the detective asked, sternly.
"Mr.-Mr. Yates, sir.”
“What was he saying?”
"I couldn't repeat the exact words, sir; but they
were having an argument-a quarrel. Mr. Yates
wanted some money from his brother, quite a lot
of money. He kept repeating that he had to have
it at once. I think he called it ‘a debt of honor,'
or something like that. He mentioned a card game
at the club, I think-but I wasn't what you might
call listening, sir. I wouldn't so far forget myself.
The door of the den was open, and I was just
outside in the hall, waiting for a chance to slip
past and out to the butler's pantry. Mr. Garret
had begun his night's drinking, and he was in an
extra ugly mood, sir, sneering at Mr. Yates, and
taunting him, and working him up, until at last"
“Go on.”
“There was a snarl from Mr. Yates, and then


THIRTY PIECES OF SILVER
113
the-the sound of a blow. I didn't see it, of course,
sir; but it must have been Mr. Yates who struck,
because there was a regular bellow of rage from
Mr. Garret, and then he ordered his brother out
of the house."
"Did he go at once?"
“I don't know, sir. I didn't wait to see; I
didn't want to hear any more. I turned and
went back to my room as quick as I could, for
fear they'd come out and find me.”
"Did you hear anything after that, anything
that sounded like a shot, for instance?”
“No, sir, nothing. My room is at the very top
of the house, and I shut my door tight, and went
back to bed. And that's all I know. That was
everything I heard until Katie screamed, in the
early morning, and I rushed down to find Mr.
Garret dead in his chair." ;
"At what time did you leave your bed, Dakers,
and go down-stairs for the brandy?”.
“At a little after twelve, sir.”
“And how long did you remain standing outside
the door of the den? How long before the blow
was struck, and Mr. Yates Appleton was ordered
from the house?”
"I couldn't rightly say, sir. Not more than ten
or fifteen minutes, at the longest; for, when I got
back to my room, it was half-past twelve by my
clock."
"Are you sure? What made you look to see?”


114
AT ONE-THIRTY
The questions came like a rapid-fire shot; but the
butler was ready for them.
: “I knew Miss Ellerslie would be home soon from
the wedding-reception, and I wondered if she
would hear them quarreling, sir, or if Mr. Yates
would go to his rooms, or take himself out of the
house again before she came.”
"H’m! Why did you come to me today and
tell me this? Why didn't you tell me yesterday?”
The butler hesitated a fraction of a second too
long.
"Well, sir, I–I've been with the family too
long. It didn't seem fair to give any of them
away like that-although I don't owe Mr. Yates
Appleton anything!” The note of resentment
that crept into his voice at the last words was un-
mistakable, and illuminating. “He's never done
me a good turn in his life. But I was afraid, if
the police, or you, sir, found out that he'd come
back and quarreled with his brother in the night,
they might think he'd-he'd killed him, sir, espe-
cially as he'd struck him.”
"And what made you change your mind,
Dakers?”
“Well, after I'd thought it all over, it didn't
seem right to keep anything back-like interfer-
ing in the course of justice, sir."
“I understand what you mean, Dakers. But
why didn't you go to Mrs. Appleton-the elder
Mrs. Appleton?”
seem


THIRTY PIECES OF SILVER
115
“What, sir? I don't quite see, sir!” The
butler's suave tones were blended with a note of
amazement and alarm.
Gaunt smiled quietly to himself.
“When Mr. Yates Appleton refused to pay you
for your silence, why didn't you go to his mother?
You won't get anything out of it by coming to me,
you know, and Mrs. Appleton would have paid
you well.”
The butler cringed suddenly.
“I don't know how you knew it, sir; but it's
true. After all, it wasn't anything to be ashamed
of, sir. I'm a poor man, and what I knew was
worth money. But Mr. Yates wouldn't bargain
with me. Just flew in a rage, and used dreadful
language, and ordered me out when I called to
see him last evening. I did try to see Mrs. Apple-
ton; but she sent down word that she was indis-
posed, and wouldn't receive anyone. I don't
think the little note I sent up to her at the
Blenheim Hotel last evening was ever delivered
to her, though, or she would have seen me right
enough. I couldn't get admitted to her this
morning either, and I knew it was no good trying
Mr. Yates again. I was afraid, too, that you, or
the Inspector, might find out any minute what I
knew, and I thought I'd better come and tell you.
I've got to think of my character, sir.”
“Well, you've thought of it rather late, Dakers.
Do you realize that, if anything comes of this,


116
AT ONE-THIRTY
you may be subpoenaed to appear in court and
testify, and, when it comes out that you've delib-
erately kept this evidence back in order to try to
get money from the family for your silence, you
may be arrested for attempted blackmail?”
"Blackmail!” the man fairly shrieked. “Oh,
sir, no-not that! My character would be ruined,
sir! I shouldn't be able to get another place, and
I've worked faithfully, all my life, for the very
best people. I didn't intend it as blackmail, sir
-indeed, indeed, I didn't! It was only a-a
favor, like, to the family, and they could well afford
to pay for it. I never thought of blackmailing
anybody-never!”
“Well, considering that you came to me, anp
told me, of your own free will, Dakers, I'll see what
I can do for you. But mind you keep this quiet,
without a word to anyone, and hold yourself in
readiness to testify whenever I want you.”
“Yes, sir, of course; anything you say, sir. I'm
sure I'm perfectly willing to do whatever you
say!" At his dismissal, the frightened little man
scurried out, as if only too glad to escape from the
dreaded presence of the detective.
Gaunt wasted no time, but, summoning Jenkins
for his hat and coat, descended to the car.
“The Calthorp, Saunders, and look sharp.”'
The air was crisp and searchingly cold, in the
first keen frost of early autumn, and the swift rush
of sharp wind seemed to clear Gaunt's thoughts, and
cer


THIRTY PIECES OF SILVER
117
send his blood racing through his veins. The task
before him was a difficult one. Although it
seemed that the case, on the face of it, was all
but cleared up, and the mystery of Garret Apple-
ton's death solved, there were several points still
lost in obscurity, points of glaring significance.
It was evident that the butler had told all he knew.
Gaunt had so thoroughly frightened him by the
threat of punishment for attempted blackmail
that he would eagerly have disclosed anything
further of which he might have been cognizant,
to ingratiate himself with the detective, and thus
possibly save his own skin. It seemed incon-
ceivable that he, lying awake and probably on the
qui vive for any further sounds of strife and dis-.
cension from below, in spite of the fact that his
room was at the top of the house and his door
closed, would not have heard the revolver shot,
had Garret Appleton's life been ended during the
ensuing moments of his quarrel with his brother.
More than that, Yates knew that Barbara Ellerslie
might return at any moment, and walk in upon the
scene of the tragedy, unless in the heat of his rage
and passion this had passed quite from his mind.
But, if he had killed his brother, would he have
walked out of the house, leaving the traces of his
crime for any casual discovery, only to return
hours later, and attempt, as well as he could, to
change the scene to represent the murder as the
outcome of a burglary? It seemed unthinkable,


118
AT ONE-THIRTY
as, by the testimony of his own friend, he had
left in a far more intoxicated condition than when
he had come to him, at approximately one o'clock,
directly after the quarrel. And if he had been in a
sufficiently clear-headed condition to have attempted
to cover the traces of his crime, would he not have
remembered the damning bit of evidence left
behind earlier in the night—the cuff-link, which,
the housemaid had 'stated, lay in plain view before
the door of the den?
If not he, then who in that household would have
attempted to change the appearance of the room
in which the dead man sat? Who would have had
the necessary strength of character and nerve to
have conceived such a plan, and have carried it
to fruition? Only two, from Gaunt's observations,
and both of these were women. Barbara Ellerslie
would have been capable of it; but the only motive
strong enough to impel her to such an act would
have been her conviction that her little sister was
guilty. That was a matter which might still
remain to be looked into. If, on the other hand,
the elder Mrs. Appleton had chanced to enter the
room of death in the early hours of the morning,
she would have had the strongest motive in the
world for attempting to conceal the true state
of affairs. Her denunciatory cry of “Cain!” when
she stood beside her dead son's body proved that,
momentarily at least, she had thought Yates
guilty of his brother's murder. Yet, she had


THIRTY PIECES OF SILVER
121
to enforce my demand. You are making things
look very black for your master by behaving in
this manner, James!”
"I-I was only trying to carry out his orders,
sir," the valet faltered. “I'm sure I'm very sorry,
sir. I don't suppose he meant them for you-
he didn't have an idea that you were coming."
James closed the front door, shutting out the
faithful Saunders, and led the way into the li-
brary.
The detective seated himself, and asked, turn-
ing his head from side to side as if glancing about
him.
“Who else is in this apartment, James?”.
“Here, sir?” the valet started nervously. “Why,
no one, sir.”
"I distinctly smell tobacco smoke,” Gaunt
remarked, very quietly.
There was a pause, and then James affirmed in
a faint voice, as if the words were fairly dragged
from him.
"It was-me, sir."
"You? Does Mr. Appleton permit you to smoke
in his rooms?”
"Why—why, no, sir, of course not! But-
but in his absence—”.
“I understand. Very reprehensible of you,
James, very! And what was it you were smoking
-in Mr. Appleton's absence?”
"A-a cigar, sir."


122
AT ONE-THIRTY
“One of your master's?”
“No, sir. Mr. Appleton smokes cigarettes
only.”
"Then where did you get it, James?”
“1-1-I found it, sir," the valet blurted out.
“Where?” the question fell crisply from Gaunt's
lips.
“Here, sir. The--the gentlemen who had these
rooms before must have left it behind.”
The detective smiled.
“Very well, James. I won't keep you any longer
from your task. I will wait here, however, until
we hear from Mr. Appleton.”
And Gaunt waited. An hour passed, then two
and three, and still he sat there patiently, while
the valet finished his packing, and then hung
nervously about, and the silence seemed to deepen
so that the street-sounds were carried up to them
with startling distinctness.
At length, the house telephone in the hall rang
sharply, and, with an exclamation that sounded
very much like one of relief, James hurried to it,
with Gaunt at his heels. The hall was narrow,
and the telephone hung on the wall, facing a closed
door. As the detective paused just back of the
valet at the instrument, he heard a slight, al-
most indistinguishable sound in the room behind
him, which caused him to take a cautious step or
two backward.
“Yes, sir," the valet was saying eagerly. “Is


CHAPTER VIII
IN THE WATCHES OF THE NIGHT
TELL, you've got me, Gaunt!” the young-
er man said, sullenly. “I told James
to say that I was out, because I didn't
want to be annoyed any more. I'm in a terrible
state over this whole affair, I tell you-terrible!
I'll go crazy if I have to talk it over any more!
That's the only reason why I didn't want to see
you, or anyone. You didn't think I was afraid
of you, did you?” he added, in sudden bluster.
“I've got nothing to hide!”.
"I'm very glad to hear you say so, Mr. Apple-
ton,” returned the detective. “Perhaps, in that
case, you'll tell me a few things I want to know."
“I told you yesterday—" the young man began
to protest.
But Gaunt cut him short.
“I want to know some of the things you did not
tell me yesterday. But, first of all, I want to re-
turn this to you."
He held out the little gold cuff-link. Yates
Appleton drew back, his eyes fixed upon the out-
stretched hand of the other in a sort of horror.
"1-I don't” he began, huskily. “What is
it? I never saw ”.
124


IN THE WATCHES OF THE NIGHT 125
“Oh, yes, you did,” returned the detective.
"It is your gold cuff-link, which you lost night
before last. Don't you remember? When you
reached your friend's rooms, Maurice Livingston's,
from the club, he lent you a pair. He told me last
night that he had done so.”
“Why—yes,” the younger man, admitted, in
a tone of relief. “I had forgotten. That is mine,
of course. Where was it found, Mr. Gaunt? At
the club, or in the motor?”.
“In neither place.” The detective's tone was
grave and stern. “It was found on the floor of
the den, where it had rolled during your quarrel
with your brother. It was loosened, probably,
when you struck him that blow over the heart."
There was a tense silence for a moment, and then
the young man, with a shuddering sob, buried his
face in his hands.
“My God!” he moaned. “My God!”
“You bribed your chauffeur: why didn't you
bribe the butler?” persisted Gaunt. “You should
not have turned on him last night, and thrown
him out of your rooms. It was dangerous, you
see. He knew too much of what had gone on the
night before.”
“I couldn't! I didn't have the money,” Yates
Appleton muttered. “I promised the chauffeur
a hundred not to say he'd taken me home from the
club; but that cursed Dakers wanted a thousand
down, and more to follow. He'd never have done


126
AT ONE-THIRTY
bleeding me, and, anyway, I didn't think he'd
give it away so soon. I thought he'd wait and try
again to get money out of me. It's all true, Mr.
Gaunt! I did go home and quarrel with Garret,
and—and strike him. But I didn't kill him!
I swear to you, I didn't! I left him alive and as
well as ever he was in his life!”
“Then suppose you tell me the whole truth,”
suggested Gaunt. “You see, I know all about
your movements that night, and it's going to look
very bad for you, if you don't tell everything
now, frankly and honestly."
"I will, Mr. Gaunt! I'm only too glad to, and
I want nothing so much as to have you find out
who killed Garret!” the younger man returned,
eagerly. “Only, I don't want you to make any
mistake, and get after me. I'm innocent; but
I know things look pretty black against me, and
men have been convicted on circumstantial evi-
dence long before this. There was bad blood
between my brother and me, as a lot of people
were aware, and, although the chauffeur knew
I'd gone home for awhile, about midnight, I hadn't
any idea, until last night, that the butler had seen
or heard me. I suppose I should have been more
politic with him; but I was unnerved by_by
everything that had happened.”
"Just what did happen, night before last, Mr.
Appleton?”
"Well, you know of the lawsuit. I believe my


IN THE WATCHES OF THE NIGHT
127
md
mother told you that it was just a test case, a
friendly suit. It wasn't, entirely, although we
stayed on in the house until the renovating of ours
was completed, to save talk and gossip. There'd
been too much of that, already. We've been
pretty wild, I guess, Garret and I; but you can
believe I'm going to be a different man, Mr.
Gaunt! This terrible thing has pulled me up
short, I can tell you! After the lawsuit was over,
and I'd failed, Garret pulled the purse-strings
tighter than ever, and wouldn't help me out with
my debts, or anything. Night before last, I went
to the Patriarchs', and gambled, and lost a lot of
money. I gave my note for it, of course; but,
as I was leaving, I overheard a remark that made
me determined to pay up what I had lost, right
then and there. I'd been drinking, too, and
hitting up the--the other thing that you discovered,
and I was wild-desperate! I went home, tackled
my brother where I knew he'd be by himself, drink-
ing in the den, and tried to get him to advance
me the money. I might as well have tried to move
a rock! He's always ugly when he's drinking;
but that night he was worse than ever. He was
highly excited, just about purple with rage, in
fact, when I entered. Something must have hap-
pened, before I came in, to upset him. He cursed
and reviled me, and I-well, I told you I was pretty
well wrought up, myself. He goaded me on until
I struck him. Then he ordered me from the house,


128
AT ONE-THIRTY
and, after a minute, I went. I discovered, after
I was in the motor again, that I'd lost my cuff-
link; but I borrowed one from Maurice Livingston.
All the rest of the night you know. I went home
again when I got ready. My brother and I'd had
rows before, although we hadn't come to blows
in years, and I knew it would all have blown over
by the morning. You know what was found when
morning came. I don't know who killed my
brother. I wish to heaven I did! And I don't
know who faked up that burglary stunt, if it was
really faked up. But I know I'm innocent of any
part in his death!”
“You would have done far better if you had told
me all this frankly yesterday, Mr. Appleton,”
Gaunt remarked, quietly. “If you are innocent,
as you say, there is one person who believed you
guilty—your mother!”
“My mother!” the young man repeated, aghast.
"Have you forgotten what she said when she
turned from the body of your brother and found
you standing in the doorway? She called you,
'Cain!””
“She was unnerved, overwrought. What could
be expected of a woman, a mother, at such a time?
She was out of her mind with the shock and grief
and horror. She didn't know what she was saying!
She had known, of course, that there wasn't much
love lost between Garret and me. She's witnessed
some pretty bad quarrels between us, and just for


IN THE WATCHES OF THE NIGHT
129
a minute she lost her senses, and accused me. She
saw, though, almost immediately, how unjust,
how impossible, such a thing could be, and she
sent at once for you, to find out the truth for
us."
"Well, Mr. Appleton, the evidence, circumstan-
tial as it is, would point, at this stage of the in-
vestigation, directly to you in the eyes of the
officials, the police. It would be useless for me to
deny that. The fact that you bribed one ser-
vant, and would have bribed another had it been
within your power to accede to his requests, to
conceal your return to the house, to the room in
which your brother was afterward found murdered,
would look very bad for you, from Inspector Han-
rahan's point of view. However, there are one
or two points in your favor, which he might over-
look, and I won't put the evidence I have ob-
tained in his hands just yet. But you must give
me your word of honor not to leave town, not to
try any more tricks like that of this morning. You
must be where I can reach you instantly at any
hour of the day or night; for, if you are really as
anxious as you say you are to discover who killed
your brother, I may want your help.”
“Of course, Mr. Gaunt, I can't thank you enough,
sir, for your forbearance!” Tears of weakness and
gratitude rose in the young man's eyes, and he
brushed them away with a trembling hand. “I'm
sure you know as well as I do that I had nothing


130
AT ONE-THIRTY
to do with Garret's death; but I might have a
hard time proving it to the police, and, as you say,
appearances are against me. Of course, I want
to know who killed my brother; but, if it wasn't
a burglar, and you've seemed to prove that it
wasn't, isn't there a chance that he might have
committed suicide?”
“In that case, who would have prepared the
burglary evidence, and what became of his jewelry
and money?" asked Gaunt.
The other was silent.
“No, Mr. Appleton,” the detective remarked con-
came
a motive other than that of paltry robbery. We
may be sure of that. I must be off now. You
will give me your word to be on hand when I need
you again?”
“My word of honor, Mr. Gaunt, and please
believe that I appreciate what you have done for
me. You might have had me placed under arrest,
I know, on the evidence you have, and, although
I should have been cleared, of course, in time, I
should never have been able to live it down, and
the disgrace and notoriety would have about
killed my mother. If my brother did not commit
suicide, I'm as anxious as you, and more, to know
who killed him.”
Gaunt found Saunders waiting faithfully in the
hall, and went swiftly home, for a quick bite.
It was after two o'clock in the afternoon, and he


IN THE WATCHES OF THE NIGHT 131
still had much to do that day. He saw to it that
the chauffeur, too, had some lunch, and imme-
diately afterward motored to the Appletons'.
The butler grew pale on seeing him; but the
detective brusquely ignored their interview of
the morning, and asked to see Miss Ellerslie.
She came to him almost at once, in the library.
Her low voice was faint and quivering with anxiety,
and the hand she extended to him was cold.
“Your sister, Mrs. Appleton?” he asked. “I
trust that she is better, that she has rallied a little
from the shock of yesterday?”.
“On the contrary, Mr. Gaunt, she is ill, very
dangerously ill.” She seemed scarcely to breathe
the words.
He murmured a conventional regret, (scarcely
knowing the words he uttered. The strange spell
her mere presence had exercised over him on the
previous day, seemed intensified. She held her-
self less in reserve, as if her anxiety had beaten
down a title of her supreme self-control.
"Can you tell me,” he added, “about how soon
Mrs. Appleton will be able to see me? I'll promise
faithfully not to shock her, or annoy her. It is
something entirely impersonal about which I wish
to consult her.”
“Not for many days. She is so ill that perhaps
her very life is in danger-perhaps her reason.
The doctor is with her now, and has called in a
specialist.”.


132
AT ONE-THIRTY
"I did not realize it was as serious as that.
Believe me, Miss Ellerslie, I am deeply sorry for
her, and for you, too, in your anxiety. May I
ask you just a few questions? I won't keep you
long from your sister.”
“Certainly, Mr. Gaunt." But, as she spoke,
he heard a slight tinkling, drumming sound. She
had reached over unconsciously, and picked up one
of the small silver or bronze ornaments from the
writing-table, and was playing with it idly between
her trembling fingers.
"Miss Ellerslie, you said yesterday that, when
you returned from the wedding the night before,
your old nurse, Mammy Lu, told you that your
sister was awake and nervous, and you went in
just as you were, in the costume you had worn at
the wedding reception, and remained with her
until she was quiet.”
The tinkling rattle stopped suddenly.
“Yes, Mr. Gaunt, I did.”
. “You did not, before you went up-stairs and
encountered the maid, go near the den?”
"No."
“And, after your sister was quiet, did you go
immediately to your room and retire, or did you
descend to the room where your brother-in-law
r room
was?”
There was a sudden, loud snap. The paper-
knife, which Miss Ellerslie had held, had broken
in two in her sudden, convulsive grasp. She laid


IN THE WATCHES OF THE NIGHT 133
the pieces mechanically on the table before she
answered quietly:
"I went directly to my room, and retired.”
"Directly after leaving your sister, you mean?”
"Directly after leaving my sister.” Her voice
had lost the low, thrilling timbre, and held the
curious, sad, controlled note of the previous day.
“And the next thing you heard was the house-
maid's screams, when she went to the den, the fol-
lowing morning?”.
“That is so, Mr. Gaunt.”
“Yet you did not sleep well; you were, in fact,
awake most of the night, were you not?”
“Why—I think not; I am not sure. I am
usually a light sleeper, and I was worried by my
sister's nervous condition; but I believe that I
slept rather well.”
“Marie, the maid of the elder Mrs. Appleton,
heard you walking the floor a great deal during
the night. Her room is directly above yours,
you know."
i There was a slight pause, and then the girl's
voice sounded upon his ear with its natural soft
drawl intensified, almost as if with studied effect:
“Did she? She must have exaggerated-she is
very excitable. I occasionally pace up and down
the floor of my room, when sleep will not come to
me; but I fancy I did so no more on the night
before last than at any other time-I am subject
to insomnia.”


134
AT ONE-THIRTY
“When you entered the house, Miss Ellerslie,
on your return from the wedding, did you hear any
sound from the direction of the den? A sound,
for instance, of two voices-men's voices-raised
in an altercation?”
"Oh, no!” The genuine surprise in her voice
made it rise a tone or two with the thrilling sweet-
ness of a bird's note. “There was no sound
whatever."
“Was there no light on the lower floor?”.
"Only the hall light, which is always left burn-
ing all night, until the maids or butler come down
in the morning, and a faint radiance, which seemed
to come from the direction of the den, quite as if
my brother-in-law was sitting in there as usual,
and the door was open-the door of the den, I
mean.”
Gaunt pondered a moment. The housemaid,
Katie, had stated to him on the previous day
that, when she entered the den in the early morn-
ing and found a cuff-link, and later the body of her
master, there had been no light whatever in the
den, save that from the one opened window.
Whoever, then, had changed the appearance of
the room after the tragedy, had put out the light.
“And during the night you heard no sound
whatever, Miss Ellerslie? Forgive me for re-
peating my questions to you, but I am trying to
recall any sound which may have reached your
ears during your wakeful hours, but which you


IN THE WATCHES OF THE NIGHT
dismissed from your thoughts as of no signifi-
cance."
There was silence for a moment, and then she
answered with the air of finality:
"No, Mr. Gaunt; not the slightest sound what-
ever.”
“Very well, Miss Ellerslie. I won't keep you
from your sister any longer. My chauffeur is
waiting in the vestibule.”
But even as she opened the library-door, Dakers
appeared upon the threshold.
"Mr. Force and Mr. Witherspoon are in the
drawing-room, Miss Ellerslie. They wish to know
if they can see you for a moment."
After a slight, but obvious, hesitation, the girl said:
“Yes, Dakers, tell them I will come at once.”
Then, as the butler disappeared down the hall,
she turned again to the detective. “Mr. Gaunt,
I told you yesterday of my engagement to Mr.
Randolph Force, and that I meant to break that
engagement, and remain with my sister. I have
reconsidered.” Then, with a little smile: “That
is supposed to be a woman's prerogative, isn't it?
I mean that I shall stay with my sister, but permit
the engagement to go on, for a time at least. I
trust that you will hold what I told you yesterday
in the strictest confidence.”
“Certainly, Miss Ellerslie. I wonder if Mr.
Force would call on me this evening, in my rooms?
I will perhaps be able to obtain from him some


136
AT ONE-THIRTY
data concerning the Appleton family which others
have been unable to give me. It was for this
reason I wished an interview with your sister.”
"I can tell you all you wish to know about the
Appleton family, Mr. Gaunt; as much as my sister
or Mr. Force could.” There was an unconscious
note of anxiety in her voice.
"No; the data I wish go further back into his-
tory, things that only an old New Yorker and
contemporary of theirs, a man of their set, could
tell me.” His voice was very gentle, but there
was a graver note in it, almost a command, as
he added: “Please, tell Mr. Force I will be at home
at nine."
She sighed a little, and her voice, as she replied,
was so low as to be almost inaudible. “I will tell
him, Mr. Gaunt."
“Thank you. May I trouble you with one
more question—this time an irrelevant one? Why
is your hair all wet about your forehead?”
"My hair?" she repeated in surprise, putting her
hands quickly to her head. Her hair was lying
in flat, damp tendrils about her face. “Oh, yes!
They—they were bathing my forehead."
"Ah! You, too, were—ill, Miss Ellerslie?”
"I-I fainted, just a few minutes before you
came," she confessed. “It was silly of me, of
course. I don't remember ever having done such
a thing before. I have been quite unnerved by
my anxiety over my sister.”


IN THE WATCHES OF THE NIGHT
137
"I understand. I am deeply sorry for you
both.”
As they moved away from the library door
together, she asked, in a strange tone, as if some-
thing impelled her to voice the question, quite
without her own volition:
“Mr. Gaunt, how-how did you know my hair
was wet?”
“Oh, that?” he smiled. “There is a peculiar
odor about moistened hair, which is distinctly
noticeable, and like nothing else in the world.
Good-afternoon, Miss Ellerslie.”


CHAPTER IX
DORIS
N leaving the Appleton house, Gaunt's car
sped swiftly to the Blenheim, where Mrs.
Finlay Appleton had taken up her abode.
“Have you any news for me, Mr. Gaunt?" she
inquired anxiously, when he was admitted to her
presence. “This strain is terrible. I would wel-
come almost any news, if it was news.”
“We have succeeded in eliminating a number
of irrelevant facts, Mrs. Appleton; but you must
be patient. There is much work ahead for us,
until we can see clearly to the end. I have come
to ask if I may have a few moments' interview with
your maid, Marie.”
“With my maid?” Mrs. Appleton's tone was
loftily amazed. “I cannot see what evidence my
maid would be able to give, Mr. Gaunt, aside from
the chatter of the servants' hall-idle gossip of which
there has been far too much already.”
Mr. Gaunt smiled deprecatingly, and said in the
tone he could so well assume on occasion:
“Well, we must leave no stone unturned, you
know, and there is often much that goes on in a
household of which sharp-eyed servants are cog-
nizant, when the mistress is not.” Mrs. Apple-
138


DORIS
139
ton cleared her throat in a manner which indicated
that, although this might be the case in some
households, it was not true of one over which she
ruled; but the detective's next question changed
her thoughts suddenly into a new and alarming
channel.
“Mrs. Appleton, I do not like to distress you by
a reference to the painful scene of yesterday morn-
ing, but believe me, it is necessary. When you
rushed down-stairs in response to the screams of
your housemaid, and discovered the body of your
eldest son, Mr. Yates Appleton, I understand,
was not present. When he appeared in the door-
way, you turned and spoke to him. Do you re-
member what you said?”
“H-m!” the elderly lady hesitated. Then she
replied in obvious haste: “No, Mr. Gaunt, I do
not. I do not even remember I noticed him
there. At any rate, what does it matter? What
could it matter what a woman said at such a
time?”
"It matters a great deal,” the detective replied,
quietly. “It was most significant."
"I do not remember what it was,” Mrs. Apple-
ton reiterated, quickly. “It could not have been
significant, for it was said unconsciously. I was
beside myself.”
“You called your son, 'Cain!' That, Mrs.
Appleton, is the name of the oldest fratricide on
record. You are a woman, if you will pardon me,


140
AT ONE-THIRTY
of very superior mentality. You say, or do, noth-
ing without reason. When you branded your
son with that name, you considered him the mur-
derer of his brother."
“Ah, no, no, Mr. Gaunt! You exceed the power
I myself have vested in you, in this case. The
application was not a literal one, but a reproach
for the words my son had uttered to his elder
brother in a late quarrel. I see that I must tell
you, in order to avert a terrible mistake on your
part. My sons were the most loving of brothers.”
The detective's face was a study. “But Garret
was the more prudent of the two; Yates the
spendthrift. They were both of violent temper,
and their frequent quarrels would have sounded
quite fearful to those who did not know that they
meant not a word of it, and that the whole matter
would be forgotten in an hour or two.
“Their quarrels, of course, were only about
money. During a recent one-very recent-Yates
told Garret he wished he was dead. It was in
reference to that, if anything, that I used the
word 'Cain,' if I did so. I don't remember it,
as I say; but I do know that the memory of that
quarrel returned to me, when I turned from my
dead to my living son. Had such a preposterous
suspicion as that which you surmise entered my
head, do you not think that I would have shielded
my son all that I possibly could from the con-
sequences of his act-if not for his own sake, at


DORIS
141
least, to save the family name from disgrace?
Yet, I sent at once for the police, and for the high-
est authority on the detection of crime in this
country-for you, Mr. Gaunt."
He accepted the compliment gravely, and said:
“Will you tell me then, Mrs. Appleton, why,
after having retained me to discover the truth for
you, you were not entirely frank with me?”
She half-rose from the chair.
“My dear Mr. Gaunt,” she began indignantly.
But he silenced her. "
“You told me that the whole suit between your
two sons was a test case, an entirely amicable
affair; yet Mr. Yates Appleton has told me it was
not so. He has admitted, to use his own words:
'That there was bad blood between him and his
elder brother.'”.
The lady bit her lip, and then said, more ve-
hemently than she had spoken;
"But can you not see, Mr. Gaunt, I knew that
the differences between my sons were absolutely
irrelevant to this case, as I informed you during
our first interview? I do not see any further need
of talk and raking up of scandal.”
“That is all, Mrs. Appleton. May I see your
maid now?”
“Yes. If you will step into my dressing-room
you will find her—the door there, just at the right
of your chair."
. With a bow, he entered the next room, closing
Sons


142
AT ONE-THIRTY
the door gently, but decisively, behind him, and
heard the rattle of spools and scissors, as the maid
rose hastily at his unexpected entrance.
“M'sieu Gaunt!”
“Marie, I want a word with you. To whom
did you telephone the news of the murder, imme-
diately after it was discovered, this morning?”.
"I, m'sieu? To no one. Why should m'sieu
think that 14"
“You were overheard telephoning the news of
the death of Mr. Garret Appleton to some one.
Who was it?"
“If m'sieu does not jest, someone has been tell-
ing him an untruth. I have telephone' to no
one.”
“I suppose you know, Marie, that the Central
Exchange can be compelled on a court order to give
the number which you called on the 'phone at that
hour. Of course, if you wish me to carry the mat-
ter to Mrs. Appleton, or Judge Carhart,"
“Ah, in that case,” the maid interrupted, with
superb insolence, “if m'sieu knows the number I
called, why does he question me?"
“You called Miss Carhart, to warn her in advance
of the death—of the murder-of Mr. Garret Apple-
ton. You thought she would wish to know pri-
vately before the news reached her house. Why
did you think she would wish to know?”.
“Well, Mademoiselle Carhart is vairy young
and a great friend of the family. She had dined
.


DORIS
143
there only the night before, and I thought that
the shock”
“No, Marie, I want the truth. You are in Mrs.
Appleton's employ, not Miss Carhart's. Why
should you telephone this news to her privately?”
The maid shrugged her shoulders with a gesture
of surrender.
“M'sieu, if you must know, there had been a
leetle affaire-how do you say?-a flirtation. Oh,
of an innocence absolutely, between M'm selle Car-
hart and M'sieu Appleton. M'sieu had confided
in me. I had carried a note-a leetle lettair, once
or twice; but it was nothing-nothing to which
anyone could object. But I-I imagine that
mademoiselle had become so greatly interested in
m'sieu that, if the sudden news of his death came
to her in the presence of her father, she might-
might pairhaps give herself away. . I like the
young mademoiselle, so jolie, so ingenious, and I
am romantic-me.”
“And you were well paid, I suppose, for carrying
these notes, eh?”
“But yes.” The maid's tone suggested sur-
prise at the superfluous question. “Both M'sieu
Appleton and Mademoiselle Carhart were most gen-
erous.”
"And that was all; just that Mr. Garret Apple-
ton permitted you to know of—his flirtation? And
you carried notes once or twice. You saw nothing
at any time, in the Appleton home, or elsewhere,


144
AT ONE-THIRTY
between these two; no confidential meetings-
“Oh, but yes, m'sieu, I have eyes. Once or
twice, when there was a large reception, or dinner,
or dance, on at the house of M'sieu Appleton, they
would slip away for a little talk of but a minute
or two in the hall, or library, or-or den.”
“Marie, did you see them in the den on the night
of the murder?”
“The evening before, after dinner, m'sieu means?
It is possible. After Madame Appleton-Madame
Garret Appleton-had retired, I passed along the
hall from the staircase leading from the servant's
dining-room up to Madame Appleton's, my mis-
tress's, to prepare her things for the night. I
pass the door of the den, and I see then M'sieu
Appleton and a lady. I did not turn and look
in, I glanc' with the corner of my eye, and I could
not see who the lady was, but I think it was Made-
moiselle Carhart.”
“Very well, Marie. That was all I wanted of
you. Only, if Inspector Hanrahan comes to you,
do not lie to him. You might find yourself in seri-
ous trouble.”
. As the maid turned, with a sigh of relief, to show
him to the door, he stopped. -
"Why do you sew without a thimble?” he asked,
with the whimsical smile that always accompanied
of your hands, yet you permit the middle finger to


146
AT ONE-THIRTY
get at the truth of the matter, and that from the
girl herself.
On arrival at the Carharts', he was shown to the
drawing-room, and she came to him almost imme-
diately. Her uneasiness at his visit was plainly
evidenced in her voice, as she greeted him.
“Miss Carhart,” he said very gravely, “did you
.. acquaint your father at once, yesterday morning,
of the death of Mr. Garret Appleton?”
“My father?” she faltered. “Why, it was he
who told me. The news was brought to him.”
The detective shook his head.
“I mean, when Marie, Mrs. Appleton's maid,
telephoned you.”
“Telephoned me? Marie telephoned me?” Her
voice was scarcely above a whisper, and it seemed
as if she could do no more than echo his words.
“Miss Carhart,” he went on, “whatever you say
to me, if you are perfectly frank, will be strictly
confidential; but if you do not disclose the whole
truth, I may be compelled to carry the matter to
your father. I must know the exact relations
which existed between you and Garret Appleton.”
The girl rose to her feet indignantly.
“How dare you!” she cried. “What do you
mean to insinuate? My father would be the first
to order you from this house, if you dared to
approach him with any story which reflected upon
my reputation.”
"Nevertheless,” he went on doggedly, "I know,


DORIS
147
and can prove, that an affair of some sort existed
between you and the man whose death I am
investigating. I know that Marie, his mother's
maid, frequently carried messages from him to
you; that she knew, and admits the knowledge,
of an affair between you, and that she will so
testify, if necessary, and that she telephoned you
privately of his death, in order that you might
not betray your shock to your father, when the
news reached you officially.”
The girl, who had seated herself, clasped and
unclasped the arms of her chair nervously, and
beat a little angry tattoo with her foot upon the
floor.
"If you must know, Mr. Gaunt,” she said at
last, with a little, quick intake of breath, “I did
have a sort of flirtation with Garret Appleton;
but it was an entirely innocent affair, the same
sort of thing that goes on every day in society.
We had been engaged at one time, and it was only
natural that I should want to—to pique his wife,
and punish him for his defection. I hadn't married,
because I never found any one whom l-liked,
as I had liked Garret, and I did not think he should
have married, either. I knew that he and his
wife weren't happy, weren't getting along to-
gether, and I flirted with him a little, deliberately;
but I never saw him alone, nor was indiscreet in
any possible way. Don't you understand, Mr.
Gaunt? It was only to punish him.”


148
AT ONE-THIRTY
“You did see him alone. Marie has come upon
you often in his own house, talking very con-
fidentially.”
"But that was only when an affair was on at his
house, at which all our set were present. He might
have talked as frequently, and said the same
things, to any other young girl of his mother's or
wife's acquaintance.”
“When was the last time you saw him alone,
Miss Carhart?”
“Really, I–I don't remember."
“Was it the night before his death, Miss Car-
hart?”
"Oh, naturally, if you call that seeing him alone.
After his wife had retired, we stayed in the library,
talking, where my father and Mrs. Finlay Apple-
ton were playing cards, and then-yes, we did
drift into the music-room, which opens from the
library, and I played a little, I think.”
“And that was all? You did not enter the den,
Miss Carhart?”
“No, Mr. Gaunt.”
The detective rose.
“Miss Carhart, you will recall what I said to
you at the commencement of this interview? If
you are not absolutely frank with me, I must go
to your father. Will you tell me if he is at
home?"
“I don't know what you mean! I am absolutely
frank with you."


DORIS
149
“You were in the den alone with Mr. Apple-
ton, the night before his death. You were seen
there."
"1-was seen there?”
“I will be more frank than you have been. After
Mrs. Garret Appleton had retired, Marie passed
along the hall before the half-open door of the den,
and saw you there with Mr. Appleton.”
There was a pause, and then the girl said, with
a little break in her voice:
“I see there is no use attempting to withhold
anything from you, Mr. Gaunt. I only attempted
to do so because I wanted you to be sure in your
own mind of the truth-that my firtation with
Mr. Appleton was only that, and nothing more.
I was in the den with Mr. Appleton. He took
me in there ostensibly to show me some new curios
he had recently purchased, but he really wanted
to talk to me alone. You see, he had taken our
little flirtation more seriously than I.
"My father had planned to take me abroad
next week for the winter, and he was quite broken
up about it. I was really sorry that I had ever
started to play this rather cruel little-joke on
him when I realized now how badly he felt, and I
was a little frightened, too; so I cut our conversa-
sion short, and returned to the library, where my
father was. That is all, Mr. Gaunt-really, really
all! And now that this—this terrible thing has
come, I feel so differently about it all-so deeply


150
AT ONE-THIRTY
sorry that I have caused Mrs. Garret Apple-
ton any pain-so sorry that I-I played with
fire!”
"I am glad that you have been frank with me,
Miss Carhart. I believe that you have been;
but I must know a little more. In that inter-
view with him in the den, did Mr. Appleton make
any violent demonstration of affection toward you,
any suggestions or proposals for the future?”
“No, not exactly,” the girl returned, hesitatingly.
“He was very much wrought-up and excited,
and didn't seem to be quite-quite himself. He
said that he could not bear the thought of my
departure for Europe-of my being where he could
not see me sometimes; and, when he saw how aghast
I was that things had drifted so far between us in
his estimation, he accused me of flirting with
him, of wilfully leading him on, which was just-
just what I had been doing, Mr. Gaunt, only
I-it sounded so awful, put into words.
"I was very indignant, and told him so. I-I
reminded him of the respect due to the woman
up-stairs. Oh, I said all the hypocritical things
that a girl usually says when she had been play-
ing with a man, and gets found out, and then I
cut out the conversation short, and went back to
the library.”
“And he came with you?”
“Yes; but he was sullen, and in an injured mood,
of course, although he quelled it before my father.


DORIS
151
Nevertheless, I felt uncomfortable, and I was glad
when the time came for us to go home.”
“And you heard nothing further?”
"Nothing until Marie called me up, and told
me of-of his death.”
“Miss Carhart, did you know of any enemies-
any active enemies—whom Mr. Appleton may have
had? Did he ever tell you of any difficulty he was
in, or trouble?”
“No; he only spoke, in a general way, of his
unhappiness at home—the sort of thing a married
man always says when he wants sympathy—that
he isn't understood.”
“That is all, Miss Carhart. I won't trouble
you any longer.”
He turned toward the door; but she laid a small,
detaining hand on his arm.
"I know that you think I am horrid, Mr. Gaunt;
that I don't deserve any-respect, or anything.
But it was only a petty malicious impulse-my
flirting with him, I mean, and I yielded to it. If
you could know how sorry I am!”
The detective smiled a little.
“We all do things which we are sorry for, at
one time, or another, Miss Carhart, and it is past.
You may be sure that your confidence will be
respected. Good-afternoon."
His thoughts on the way home were far from
satisfied ones. If Yates Appleton was not guilty
of his brother's death, his investigation seemed


CHAPTER X
A NEW TURNING
THEN Gaunt reached his rooms, he found
Inspector Hanrahan impatiently pacing
the floor of his library.
“Thought you would never come, Mr. Gaunt,”
he said. “I have been waiting for you nearly an
hour. Have you come upon anything?”
“Running down a lot of false clues; clearing out
the underbrush, that's about all.” Gaunt could not
quite keep the bitterness he felt from manifesting
itself in his voice.
“Ah-ha! Well, I've come on something we've
never even thought of looking into. We've taken
the case up from the time of the murder, or at least
the evening before. But how about the day before,
Mr. Gaunt? Did it occur to you to find out how
Garret Appleton spent the last day of his life?”
The detective concealed his chagrin with an
effort. Could this be the line of investigation
that he had overlooked, not because of his blind-
ness, but because of a crass stupidity of reasoning
which was plainly unaccountable.
“Can't say that it did, Inspector. I have been
too busy following up the clues we already had.”
“Well!” The Inspector settled back in a chair
153


A NEW TURNING
155
what impressed it upon the valet's mind as being
unusual. Moreover, when he returned, he seemed
more depressed and worried than ever.”
Inspector Hanrahan paused as if for commenda-
tion; but the detective merely asked quietly:
"Anything else?"
"Not from Louis Lantelme. You know he was
discharged about a month ago. But when I went
at the butler with this line of questioning, I got
a few more facts. I told you I thought that fel-
low had something up his sleeve. It seems that,
about three weeks ago, Mr. Appleton received a
letter with a special-delivery stamp, quite late
one evening.
“There was a dinner on at the house and lots
of guests there; but he excused himself and went
out in his car. He didn't return until nearly six
in the morning, and Dakers, whom he had told
to wait up for him—and I guess from the way the
fellow talked he was well paid for it-says the car
was splashed from end to end with mud, as if it
had had a long run, through heavy roads-although
it hadn't rained in New York that night.”
"Not so much in that,” the detective remarked.
“The morning before his death, Mr. Appleton
received another special-delivery letter. This time,
Mr. Appleton went out in his car, immediately,
as before; but he returned about five o'clock in the
afternoon, and, from then until dinner time,
Dakers was pretty busy bringing him drinks. He


158
AT ONE-THIRTY
"Inspector, it's well that you've no stealthy
criminal to trail tonight-a criminal with trained
ears and a sense of humor," the detective remarked
jestingly. “If you had, your task would be hope-
less from the start.”
"Why?” The Inspector reddened, and shifted
uneasily from one foot to the other. “I don't
get you, Mr. Gaunt.”
"Your boots, man! I could hear you coming
three hundred yards away. You've taken to
wearing that soft goat's-skin, again, machine-
sewn, and you creak like a windlass!” He clapped
the discomfited official on the back in friendly
fashion, and added: “Well, let me know if you
get anything, and, if I learn anything, definitely,
you'll hear from me. Turn about is only fair
play, and we seem to be working together on this
thing.”
“Yes, sir. I've not forgotten the pointer you
gave me last night-to watch that butler. To
be sure,” he added hastily, “I have suspected him
all along, as I've said, of knowing something; but
it sort of confirmed it, when I found he'd impressed
you the same way. You'll hear from me in the
morning, sir.”
After he had departed, Gaunt dined hastily,
and then spent the intervening time before the
anticipated arrival of Randolph Force at the
telephone. His several short conversations seemed
to bring him no satisfaction, however, and he


A NEW TURNING
159
turned from his own thoughts with a distinct
feeling of relief, when his visitor was announced.
Randolph Force's step was firm and steady,
his handclasp warm and vigorous, his voice low
and rich. He brought in with him a breath of the
cool, clean outdoors and a faint odor of good
tobacco. Gaunt felt instinctively drawn to this
man, who was the affianced husband of the woman
who had so deeply impressed him.
He seemed, even in the first few moments of
their meeting, to be a fit mate for her, strong and
controlled and ringing true.
"Mr. Gaunt? Miss Ellerslie told me you wished
to see me. If I can be of any assistance”
“Sit down, Mr. Force. I wanted some infor-
mation, in a general way, concerning the Appleton
family—the men of the family, in particular-from
one who had known them well, yet who was not
one of their intimate associates. I thought that
you would be able to give it to me."
The other man laughed pleasantly.
“I've known them always—the two boys, I
mean. What makes you think I am not an asso-
ciate of theirs?”
“Because Miss Ellerslie tells me that she is
engaged to you. She would not be likely, I think,
to choose her future husband from among the
confrères of her brother-in-law.”
There was a moment's pause, and then the young
man said gravely:


160
AT ONE-THIRTY
"I see your point, Mr. Gaunt. As a matter-
of-fact, although my family and the Appletons
have been closely allied socially for three gener-
ations, I've never gone around very much with
Garret and Yates. Our interests—let us say,
our ideas of amusement-differ.”
“Can you tell me-confidentially, of course-
something of the two men, Mr. Force—something
of their characters and pursuits?”
"That's rather a difficult proposition. A man
doesn't like to discuss other men, from a personal
standpoint. Yates is rather an ass, I should say.
No real downright harm in him; but he goes the
pace, and his friends make a fool of him, gener-
ally. With Garret-hang it all! one shouldn't
speak ill of the dead-but the same tendencies
Yates manifests had sunk in deeper in him, if you
know what I mean—the tendency to consider
vices a form of modern sport. With Yates, it is
merely foolish weakness; with Garret, it had be-
come sheer evilness. Yates drinks with his crowd;
Garret alone. Yates is without moral stamina;
Garret was deliberately, shrewdly vicious. You
understand the distinction I am endeavoring to
make?”
“Perfectly. You say that your family have been
closely allied to that of the Appletons, for three
generations? Can you tell me something of their
antecedents?”
“Their father, Finlay Appleton, was a fine old


A NEW TURNING
161
man, and a great friend of my late father's. Their
grandfather, Appleton, started in life as an up-
state farmer's boy, and died a multi-millionaire
and power in Wall Street. Their mother was a
Yates--one of the Tuxedo Yates. Her people
were rich, too, but far from being as wealthy as
the Appletons. Her father was a born miser,
and would have done anything, gone to any lengths,
to accumulate and hoard money. That is a trait
which Garret Appleton had inherited to a marked
degree. He, of course, entertained lavishly, and
spent money with seeming extravagance; but it
was only to keep up his position before the world,
to gain the reputation of being a generous, but
never spendthrift, millionaire.
"From his grandfather, Yates, he inherited an
inordinate love of money for its own sake, and
there have more than once been whispers in the
Street that his operations were not entirely on the
level; in fact, were perilously near the danger
line. Of this, I think, his wife was in total ignor-
ance; but then, as far as I can learn, he never took
the trouble to make a companion or confidant
of her.”
“Being engaged to Miss Ellerslie, you must
know of the conditions existing in the household
of her brother-in-law.”
“Yes, Mr. Gaunt; but I prefer not to speak of
them. You understand that, even to aid you in
your investigation, it would be impossible for me


A NEW TURNING
163
to breathe a word against anyone who bore her
name. It must have been Yates—the contempt-
ible cur! Now I will speak, Mr. Gaunt!"
Randolph Force turned, and began pacing fur-
iously up and down before the hearth; and Gaunt
rested motionless in his chair, waiting for the other's
suddenly aroused indignation to find vent in speech.
At length, Force stopped abruptly, facing the de-
tective, and his words came with a rush:
“Natalie Appleton is as true and loyal a little
woman, as gentle a spirit, as ever existed. She
would not utter a word of complaint, of disparage-
ment even, under all the weight of her husband's
intolerable cruelties. For he was cruel; not pas- .
sionately, but systematically, fiendishly. Never
mind how I know. It was not, I assure you, from
her own lips. A man who was as constant a visitor
at the house as I, the prospective husband of her
sister, could not help but inadvertently observe
much that was not meant for his eyes, hear much
that was not meant for his ears, and come inevit-
ably to know the truth.
“I did not need the gossip of the clubs and the
business world-although I heard enough of it,
heaven knows!-to know the sort of life she and her
sister were leading. I tell you, Mr. Gaunt, if
those two girls had had a single male relative liv-
ing, Garret Appleton would have had a bullet in
his heart long ago!”
He stopped suddenly, and, in the silence that


164
AT ONE-THIRTY
followed, Gaunt could hear the creaking of the
heavy leather chair, as the young man flung him-
self back in his seat. Although the detective
waited, he did not speak again, and the stillness
deepened and was prolonged between them, until it
seemed to hang, heavy and sentient, upon the air.
At last, Gaunt himself broke the spell:
“You have known Miss Ellerslie long, Mr.
Force?"
“Ever since she came North, to make her home
with her sister. Although not intimate with either
of the brothers, as I have said, our families were
old friends, and I have been a frequent visitor,
with my mother and sisters, at Mrs. Finlay Ap-
pleton's house. When Garret married, of course,
I called, and admired his pretty, blonde little
wife tremendously, even before I realized the
strength of character that lay behind her physical
frailty. Then—then I met Miss Ellerslie, and I-
well, Mr. Gaunt, I imagine you know how it is
with a man!”
He paused in a sudden access of boyish con-
fusion, which was infinitely attractive after his
outburst of very real indignation and the self-
repression that had followed it. But the detective
did not heed the tone so much as the words them-
selves. He, too, had experienced the magnetism
that Barbara Ellerslie's mere presence bore with
it, the music in the soft, drawling pulsation of her
voice, the unnamable charm in the nearness of


A NEW TURNING
165
her. The mention of her by the other man had
seemed to evoke her actual being; it was as if
she were there in that room, standing before him,
before his sightless eyes. He could almost hear
the sound of her light footfall, feel the brush of
her skirt against his knee, the touch of her cool
little hand; smell the fresh, pure fragrance of her,
the perfume of her breath upon his cheek, as when
she had leaned toward him in the earnestness of
her disclosures of the previous day. ... Oh, yes,
he knew how it was with a man!
“You were-to have been married soon?” He
heard his own voice quietly, steadily, breaking
the silence.
“This autumn, if things had grown a little brighter
for Natalie. I've had a splendid post offered me
in Russia. I don't need the money, of course;
but it is a wonderful opportunity in the diplo-
matic world. When it became evident that Bar-
bara--that Miss Ellerslie could not leave her
sister, I renounced it, of course, and now every-
thing must be left to the future. I have hopes,
though, that, when Natalie's health is restored
from the effects of this frightful shock, and the long
martyrdon she has endured, we three may go
away together. I don't know why I am telling
you this, Mr. Gaunt; but I wanted to make my
own position in regard to the family plain to you.”
"I quite understand. But, Mr. Force, you
parried my implied question of awhile ago. Is


166
AT ONE-THIRTY
there no one, to your knowledge or belief, whose
admiration and sympathy, perhaps, for young
Mrs. Appleton, may have led to deeper feeling-
on his part at least?”
He was all the detective now, cool, inscrutable,
with a compelling firmness in his tones; and the
other realized that the note of confidential friend-
liness, which for a moment had persuaded him to
lower his own guard of reserve, was gone.
"There may be such a one, or more than one,
as the problematical person of whom you speak,
Mr. Gaunt. There may be one among the number
who were welcome guests in her house, who realized
her unhappiness, and recognized the beauty of her
simple, childlike nature. But,, if such a person
exists, rest assured that he appreciates her stanch-
ness, her loyalty, her innate purity, and he would
be a cad indeed, if he'd ever allowed any thought
other than that of the most disinterested compas-
sion and highest friendship and honor to enter
his mind in connection with her.”
“Thank you, Mr. Force. You have answered
me. And, now, it is late, I know I will not
detain you longer. Thank you, too, for coming.
When next you see Miss Ellerslie, please assure
her that I shall hope soon to have good news for
her."
A quick, firm handclasp, a conventional phrase
or two, the soft closing of the door, and Gaunt was
alone. He sat for long hours in his solitary chair


CHAPTER XI
AT HANRAHAN'S SUGGESTION
INSPECTOR HANRAHAN presented himself at
Gaunt's rooms at an early hour, and it was
plainly evident, in the exuberance of his
handshake and his jubilant tone, that his self-satis-
faction of the previous day had increased.
“You're on the trail, Inspector. I can tell
from your manner that you have got the scent."
“I think I have, sir-I think I have. Whatever
it leads to, Louis and the butler were right. There's
something mysterious been going on that Garret
Appleton was concerned with, all right.”
“What did you learn at the inn, last night?
Had Mr. Appleton met someone up there for a
conference?"
"He had not. He was too clever for that. He
wasn't going to give the chauffeur anything on him,
if he could help it. He reached there about half-
past twelve, and, after seeing that his chauffeur's
wants would be attended to, instead of lunching
there, he went into the bar alone, and had a drink,
and then beat it out a side door, after looking
carefully to see that his man had put the car up,
and gone to the chauffeur's dining-room.
"An assistant bartender and one of the waiters,
168


AT HANRAHAN'S SUGGESTION
169
who was serving a party on the side porch, saw him
go across the fields—it's real country up there,
you know-and disappear in a patch of wood-
land to the left. He stayed away until almost
three o'clock, and, when he reappeared, there were
two men with him; a short stoutish man, and a
tall, younger one. That's all the description I
could get of them from the waiter who saw them,
because they halted at the edge of the field, talked
together for a moment, and then Mr. Appleton
came straight back to the inn.”
“Did you investigate beyond that patch of wood-
land, Inspector,” Gaunt asked, thoughtfully. .
“Of course, I did; but it was dark, and I couldn't
make out very much. After I found out all I could
at the inn, I told the chauffeur of the car I hired
to drive around by way of that patch of woods.
He found a lane leading to it, after a little trouble,
and we came upon a little farmhouse, painted
white, or light yellow. I went in an asked for
some water for the engine, and found out that a
stolid old English couple, named Crabtree, lived
there quite alone, and there isn't any other house
for a long distance around; but back of their place
is a short cut that leads into the Boston Post Road,
near Greenwich.”
“Did you learn anything else at the inn?”
"Only that, wherever Mr. Appleton had been,
he hadn't had any lunch, and he hadn't time
to get any there. He bolted down a couple of


170
AT ONE-THIRTY
significans they ran wave you hea,
sandwiches and another drink, while his chauffeur
was bringing the car around, and they must have
exceeded the speed limit going back to town, for,
by the butler's testimony, he reached his own
house at five or a little after.”
“And the other end of the string—the men you
sent down to Jersey, to the farm-house near New
Brunswick? What have you heard from them?”
“Well, they ran up against a snag; but it's a
significant one. A middle-aged couple lived there,
a man and his wife, named Smith; but they have
gone, and the house is deserted. They left about
two weeks ago. They'd been living there for
nearly four years. Their last year's lease had
still about seven months to run, and they went
unexpectedly, in a great hurry.
"My men got their information from the neigh-
bors around. It seems this Smith rented the place
from his next-door neighbor, who had a great big
farm. The Smith's place was little and mean, and
they paid only ten dollars a month for it. They
seemed to be very poor, but far above the class
around them more like gentlefolks, down on their
luck. That's all my men could find out. They
didn't leave any address, or tell anyone where they
were going, and they took only their trunks with
them. The furniture-just a few cheap sticks
which they brought with them when they came-
they left standing in the house, I understand; so
that looks as if they expected to come back.


AT HANRAHAN'S SUGGESTION
171
"I think I'll run down myself, this afternoon,
and have a look around; but I guess what you call
the other end of the string is the best chance.
I'll get back to that inn tomorrow in the day-
light, and see if I can't find some trace of those
two men, or someone who saw them come in an
automobile or carriage, and remembers the direc-
tion.”
“Have you any theory to fit the facts, Inspec-
tor?” asked the detective, with quiet humor.
The Inspector shifted rather uneasily.
"Well, sir, I haven't much to go on. But why
should he have gone to that out-of-the-way hole
in Jersey to have an interview with a perfectly
respectable, middle-aged couple, who'd lived there
four years; and then, a week later, they up and dis-
appear? Then, on the very day before his death,
he goes to another quiet spot in the country, and
meets two men for a talk. If it's business, why
don't they come to his office? If it's a family mat-
ter, why not see him in his home openly? There's
a nigger in the woodpile; somewhere. It looks
like blackmail to me. That's my theory-black-
mail. They were getting money out of him for
something, I'm pretty sure.”
“You haven't any proof of that from what you
have told me."
"Haven't I? Didn't he pay that couple in Jersey
to get out of the way, and get out quick? And
he was murdered within a few hours after his inter-


172
AT ONE-THIRTY
view with the two men-maybe he refused to give
them any money; maybe he was tired of being
bled, and told them so, and they took their revenge.
I know it sounds like a Fourteenth Street melo-
drama, Mr. Gaunt; but, nevertheless, it's happen-
ing every day in real life, as you and I both know,
and the police records can show. Anyway, I'm
off to look up that Jersey couple.”
When Inspector Hanrahan had departed, Gaunt
took his watch from his pocket-a curious affair
it was, made without a crystal, with strong hands
and raised numerals, and the detective's fingers
played delicately across the open face. It was
just past eleven. Saunders could get him up to
the Rocky Point Inn in good time for lunch. He
would change places with the Inspector, who was
going to Jersey, and the following day, when the
police official went to the inn, Gaunt would, in
turn, visit that empty farm-house near New
Brunswick, and learn what he could of the couple
with the significantly ordinary name.
After ordering the car, he called the Appleton
house on the telephone, and, at his request, Miss
Ellerslie came to the wire. He learned that young
Mrs. Appleton, although still very ill, was resting
more quietly, and, although she could not be dis-
turbed by an interview for several days, the doctor
thought her on the road to a safe and reasonably
rapid recovery.
Jenkins announced the car, and Gaunt was soon


AT HANRAHAN'S SUGGESTION
173
speeding up Broadway. The air was milder than
on the previous day, and gave a hint of the coming
Indian summer. The swift run through the warm
air was delightful, and the detective listened
eagerly to the noises of street life all about him,
which gave place, gradually, to the sounds and
smells of the country in the autumn; the groaning
and creaking of heavily laden produce- and hay-
wagons, the odor of drying leaves and ripening
grain, and the wine-like scent of crushed and
dying grapes.
They did not drive at breakneck speed, and it
was half-past one before the car came to a grind-
ing stop on the gravel driveway, before the entrance
of the inn. To the head waiter, who came obse-
quiously to greet him, Gaunt said:
"I am lunching alone. I should like a table on
the side porch-the left side of the house, nearest
the door leading from the bar out to the driveway.
See that my chauffeur has his luncheon also,
please. He will guide me to the table.” In a
matter-of-fact tone he added: “I am blind.”
When he was seated, the detective asked of the
chauffeur, in a low tone:
“Saunders, is this the table I asked for?”
“Yes, sir; the nearest table to the door leading
from the bar. It's all right, sir.”
“All right. Go and have your own lunch now.
I want to start off again in about an hour.”
Because of his inability to tell by the sense of


174
AT ONE-THIRTY
touch the denomination of the bills he carried,
Gaunt kept them in separate purses, of different
sizes, stowed about his pockets, and the indefatig-
able Miss Barnes sorted them for him each morn-
ing on her arrival. Currency, of course, he could
tell; but he found it inconvenient to carry much gold
about with him.
After Saunders had departed, he produced the
purse containing the five-dollar notes, and handed
one to the head waiter, who was still hovering about.
"Look here, my man,” he said. “Did you know
Mr. Garret Appleton by sight? Was he a frequent
customer here? You need not be afraid to talk
to me-I am not a reporter.”
The head waiter's fingers closed eagerly over the
bill.
“Yes, sir, I knew him very well, sir. I've heard
of his-his murder, of course. He was up here
just the day before."
“It's about that last trip of his that I want to
ask you some questions. I'm a friend of the family.
I understand he didn't lunch here, but went out
again almost immediately after arriving, and walked
over the fields to that patch of woods." He
waved his hand vaguely toward the left.
“Yes, sir."
"Did you see him when he returned?"
: “Yes, sir."
"He was accompanied by two men, wasn't he
-one short and one tall?”


AT HANRAHAN'S SUGGESTION 175
“Yes; but only as far as the edge of the field,
sir. Then he left them, and came back here to
the inn; had a quick bite, and went off in his car.”
“It's too bad that you didn't get a close-enough
view of those two men to give me a description of
them.”
"But I did, sir. You see, they only went back
to the woods. They couldn't have gone far, and
they must have been watching; for, directly Mr.
Appleton's car was out of sight, they came around
by way of the lane-I could swear it was the same
two, sir-and sat down just two tables away from
where you are sitting now, and ordered a drink. One
was short and quite stout-that was the old one.
He might have been about forty-five, or fifty;
but you can't tell exactly, because he was pale
and sallow, and looked as if he'd had a long illness,
or-or-”
“Go on, my man, there is five dollars more in
it for you, if you'll tell me everything. What
were you going to say then?”
“Well, of course I don't know who he was, sir,
and I haven't any right to speak of it, but, well,
I took on a waiter here, once, who had that same
queer pallor, and his hair was cropped close. After
he'd been here two days, he disappeared with all
the hotel silverware he could carry off, and I found
out he was an old offender, just out from a long
term in prison.
“That stout little man, here Monday afternoon,


176
AT ONE-THIRTY
had the same gray look on his face, although he
was mostly bald, and what little hair he had was
shaved quite close. It came over me all of a
sudden that he might be a jail-bird, too; but I
could have kicked myself for a fool, afterward,
for he—he tipped handsomely, and seemed quite
a gentleman. I've heard, sir, that when a prison-
er's term is nearly up, they let his hair grow for a
while beforehand; but my convict waiter had been
pardoned on short notice and maybe if this
gentleman had been in prison, too, he might have
gotten out unexpected, the same way.”.
"And the younger man—what about him?”.
“Oh, he was in his, twenties, I should say. A
dark young man, and tanned as if he'd been out
in the open air a lot. They looked alike, for all
their difference in size and build; and they must
have been father and son, for I heard him call the
old man ‘Dad.'”
“Did you ever see them before?”
“No, sir.” The man hesitated again. "I can't
say positive that I have, but the older gentleman's
face seemed sort of familiar. Maybe I'd seen
him a long while ago, somewhere, and he's changed
a lot. I have a good memory for faces—a head
waiter's got to have—and I've been working
around New York these thirty years.”
“Did they stay long?”
“A little short of an hour, sir.”
“What did they order?”


AT HANRAHAN'S SUGGESTION
177
"Nothing to eat; just drinks—a champagne
cup for the older gentleman, and plain ginger ale
for the younger.”
"That is all. You may get my luncheon now.
I'm in a hurry to be off. ... But wait a minute.
How did you hurt your hand?”
“Cut it badly, sir, carving the other night, when
I was in a hurry, and we had a big rush. But
how did you—"
“When you placed the silver before me, you used
your left hand, and that clumsily, as if you were
unaccustomed to it.”
There was the noise and bustle about them of
arriving lunch parties, and the head waiter seemed
anxious to be about his duties; so Gaunt slipped
into the ready hand the other promised bill, and
said in a low tone:
“Send the waiter to me for my luncheon
order now, and be sure it is the same one who
waited on those two gentlemen, on Monday after-
noon."
"Yes, sir, thank you, sir;" and the head waiter
departed.
After a few moments, there was a deferential
cough beside Gaunt, and a voice said:
"I am the waiter you wanted, sir. Shall I read
the menu to you?”
Evidently, the head waiter had told him of his
patron's affliction.
“Yes; take my order, and then come back.”


178
AT ONE-THIRTY
Gaunt indicated a simple luncheon; then, when
the waiter returned, said:
“What's your name?”
“Henry, sir.”
“Well, Henry, there is a good tip in it for you,
if you'll answer my questions. You waited on two
gentlemen, Monday afternoon, about—well, we'll
say about four o'clock, or a little after. You served
them champagne cup and ginger ale. Do you
remember them?”
“Yes, sir; quite well, sir."
"Did you overhear anything they said to each
other?”
“Only a little, sir. They seemed very excited
and pleased about something—quite as if they
were celebrating. But they were mostly quiet
when I came around the table, and acted cautious;
for, after the older gentleman had had his first
pint of wine, and I was bringing them the second,
he was talking quite loud, and the younger hushed
him up. All I heard was the stout little man say;
'Well, I guess we've got him where we want him,
Rupert. He will come across all right. Smith
has flown, damn him!-I beg you pardon, sir-
'Smith has flown; but Appleton was the main
one I meant to get after, any way.' That is all,
sir. They didn't stay long after that. The little,
stout man paid the bill, and gave me a very good
tip, and then they went away, walking off around
by the lane."


AT HANRAHAN'S SUGGESTION
181
“In New York, sir.”
“What did you do? Had you a trade?”
“No, sir.”
The old man seemed to hesitate, and the detective
asked again:
“What did you do?”
“I was a-a coachman, sir.”
“Any your wife?”
There was a touch of pride in the old man's
voice as he answered:
"Lizbeth ben't ever in service since we was
married.”
"For whom were you coachman, Crabtree?”.
“When we fust coom over? For the Clintons,
on Washington Square.”
"And then for whom?”
There was no answer, and the old man's feet
shuffled uneasily on the porch.
After a long minute, the old woman's quavering
voice cried out:
“Why don't 'e answer, Albert, my man? We've
nowt to be ashamed of, and 'e was a kind master
always.
“ 'Twas Mr.—Mr. Hitchcock, sir."
Something in the man's voice, no less than his
hesitation, made the detective ask quickly:
“What Mr. Hitchcock?"
“Mr. Rupert Hitchcock, sir."
An illuminating ray of thought flashed over
Gaunt's mind.


182
AT ONE-THIRTY
“Not Rupert Hitchcock, of Smith, Hitchcock
&. Gregory?” he asked.
“Yes, sir, and as Lisbeth says, 'There is nought
to be ashamed of in that.' For, whatever they
said he did, he was a kind gentleman."
"Well, Crabtree, I would like to speak to him.
Will you tell him so, please?”
The old wife gave a little, sharp cry, and the
man replied uneasily:
“Tell 'im, sir! 'Ow can I tell 'im, sir? I don't
know where 'e is.”
"Oh, yes, you do. He is here in your house,
with his son Rupert, Junior."
“Indeed, an' 'e isn't, sir! Mr. Hitchcock ben't
'ere."
“He was here Monday afternoon. A gentle-
man called on him, and the three walked away to-
gether, and Mr. Hitchcock and his son didn't
return until after five.”
After a pause, the old woman said tremblingly:
: “'E better tell the gentleman, Albert. 'E
knows, anyway."
"Well, sir, it can't do Mr. Hitchcock any harm.
'E an' Master Rupert came late Sunday night,
an' stayed wi' us till Monday night, and the gentle-
man came in the afternoon, just as 'e said.”
“Did you expect them Sunday?”
“No, they just dropped from the clouds, like,
and asked if we would put them up for a day.
They'd been good to Lisbeth an'me, before-


184
AT ONE-THIRTY
'as been bad; but one must expect things when
one gets on in years. 'Tis in my left leg, sir.”
“Yes, I heard you drag your left foot a little.
That was why I asked. I hope it will be better.
... Good-day, Mrs. Crabtree.”
In the car, as he rolled swiftly cityward, the
amazing revelations of the afternoon pounded un-
ceasingly in Gaunt's brain. Rupert Hitchcock!
The man who had wrecked the powerful Wall
Street firm of Smith, Hitchcock V. Gregory, of
which he was junior partner, and who had been
sentenced to seven years in prison for the mis-
appropriation of funds!
What connection had there been between him
and the murdered man? What secret had they
shared, what mystery guarded ? By some strange
stroke of fate, could it be from his hand that the
bullet had sped to the heart of Garret Appleton?


CHAPTER XII
DEVIOUS WAYS
THE night's reflections served to alter Gaunt's
plans for the next day, and, at as early
an hour as he conventionally could, he
stepped from his motor at the door of the Blen-
heim, and was guided to Mrs. Finlay Appleton's
apartments. That lady, mindful that his afflic-
tion prevented a betrayal of her early-morning
appearance, received him without delay, and all
but inundated him under a storm of anxious
queries. When the eager flow of questioning had
abated somewhat, the detective ventured to speak:
“Please, please, my dear Mrs. Appleton! You
must believe that I appreciate, in part at least,
your feeling as a mother, in so heartrending an
affair as this, and I am doing my utmost to shorten
the suspense and horror of the situation for you;
but you really must have patience. Remember
that the picked men of the detective squad of the
police force are working night and day, also, on
this case, and, although many clues have been
unearthed, it is too soon to expect anything defin-
ite. Such an affair as this cannot be brought to
a conclusion in a day.”
“I most heartily wish it were not necessary for
una
185


186
AT ONE-THIRTY
the police to be concerned-at least, until the man
who killed my poor boy is caught!” returned the
elderly lady, asperity struggling with grief in her
tones. “That Inspector person-Hanrahan, I be-
lieve his name is-called upon me yesterday after-
noon, and asked me the most preposterous and
unbelievably impertinent questions about Garret
-quite as if he suspected him of having some
disgraceful secret in his past! As if my son could
have any secret from his mother! The man's
impudence was astounding, and I told him so,
and soon sent him about his business!”
The detective's face relaxed ever so slightly. He
could imagine the result of Inspector Hanrahan's
impolite visit.
“It was a terrible experience, Mr. Gaunt; abso-
lute torture, coming, as it did, immediately after
my poor son's burial!”
"I read of the funeral in the papers, this morn-
ing,” the detective remarked.
“It was terrible-terrible!” she cried. “My
husband would have turned in his grave, had he
known! The horrible crowds, Mr. Gaunt-the
horrible, gaping, staring crowds! In spite of the
cordons of police, they pressed in upon us on all
sides, turning our grief into a sort of hideous public
holiday! The last service which could be rendered
my poor boy was robbed of all solemnity, all
sacredness, by that mob of morbid, heartlessly
curious people.”


DEVIOUS WAYS
187
“Indeed, you have my sympathy, Mrs. Apple-
ton. I wish with all my heart that you and yours
could have been spared that; but it is inevitably
a part of such a tragedy as this. I am sure the
police did all in their power to protect you ”.
"Perhaps they did. But, as to discovering the
murderer of my son, I have no faith in them. Yates
and I rely entirely upon you."
"I trust that I shall not disappoint you. But,
Mrs. Appleton, I did not come here to distress or
annoy you, I assure you. A little matter has
turned up, which I should like some information
about. Mr. Garret Appleton's fortune was not
entirely in real estate, was it?”.
"No," she replied, in evident surspise. “He
held stocks and bonds, and traded quite a little
in them, I believe.”
“Can you tell me who his brokers were?”
“Palmer and Leach, on Broad Street.”
“Have they been his brokers for a long time?”
Mrs. Appleton paused, as if trying to recall to
her memory that which he had asked of her; but
he detected a slight quickening of her audible
breathing, and the dry rustle of her hands stirring
in the silken lap of her morning-robe.
“Really, I don't remember, exactly. For a
year or two prior to his marriage, I think.”
"And, before that, who were his brokers?” The
nervous, annoyed stirring became more apparent
in the stillness of the room. “Was the firm, by any


188
AT ONE-THIRTY
chance, Smith, Hitchcock V. Gregory?” he per-
sisted.
"I-I believe it was!” came faintly from the
thin, compressed lips.
"Ah! A most unfortunate failure!" commented
the detective. “I remember my secretary reading
of it to me, at the time. There were only two
members of the firm, were there not-only the
man Smith, and Rupert Hitchcock? If my memory
serves me, the name Gregory was merely retained
to keep the title of the firm intact. I believe Mr.
Gregory died many years ago.”
“Really, I cannot say,” murmured Mrs. Apple-
ton, somewhat coldly. “I remember something
about a failure, of course; but I know very little
of affairs of finance."
"I trust your son didn't lose by it," the de-
tective remarked, and paused for a moment before
continuing. “It was one of the worst failures
the Street has ever known, and hundreds went
down in the crash.”
“My son was a very astute business man, Mr.
Gaunt, and a very reticent one. If he lost very
much in the failure of the firm with whom he
traded, he said nothing of it, to me at least. He
seldom discussed business matters at home.” Her
tone was flatly uninterested, and there was a note
of finality in it, which Gaunt recognized.
He rose.
“Palmer and Leach, I think you said, were the


190
AT ONE-THIRTY
few minutes to spare for me? I want some in-
formation.”
"Surest thing you know!" came in short, quick
accents over the 'phone. “Always time for you,
Gaunt. What is it?”
"Can you reply freely, without fear of being
overheard-mention names if necessary?” Gaunt
asked, cautiously.
There was a chuckle at the other end of the wire.
“I should-hope so! This office is a padded
cell. If it weren't, I might have been a fit sub-
ject for you, long ago!” Mr. Wetmore returned,
frankly. Then he added: “What can I do for
you?”
“Tell me all you can of the Smith, Hitchcock
V. Gregory failure, four years ago."
A low whistle sounded in the detective's ear.
"Now you're talkin'! Whatever started you on
that? Wait a minute-hold the wire.”
There was a faint resounding jar, as of the re-
ceiver being hastily thumped down upon the desk,
and then silence, while the detective waited pa-
tiently. * At length, when several minutes had passed,
he heard the voice of his informant again:
Į "You there, Gaunt?”
“Yes.”
“I looked it up, to be sure of the facts. There
wasn't any Gregory in the firm; only Smith and
Hitchcock. Gregory'd been dead fifteen years.
They failed four years ago next January, on the
ears


192
AT ONE-THIRTY
ing him in the face, and not a cent to fall back
on.”
He paused, and a faint rustle of papers sounded
in the detective's ears, as if Mr. Wetmore was
looking up fresh data.
"Do you know what became of him?" Gaunt
asked.
“Can't say positively. He dropped out of sight;
but I heard somewhere that his friends helped him
temporarily. The police must have kept track
of him, to see if by any chance he unearthed any
of that million, or more, that disappeared at the
time of the failure. But I guess he was straight
enough; for, the last I heard, he and his wife were
living in sheer poverty, somewhere in Jersey.
So much for him. You know, yourself, about the
other one, Hitchcock, don't you?”
“Convicted and sent to prison, wasn't he?"
The detective's voice was a triumph of studied
carelessness.
“Yes, for seven years. But I read in the paper
the other day that he'd been pardoned, because
of his health. Haven't heard anything of him,
though. 'Tisn't likely he'd show up down here,
any way. I've got a list here of their biggest
customers: Bender, Matthews, Samuelson, Houck
-I'll send it up to you.”
"Thanks, I wish you would.” Gaunt prepared
to add a phrase in pursuance of his line of thought,
when a yell of amazement over the wire cut him short.


DEVIOUS WAYS
193
"Say! Look here! That chap who was murdered
the other day, Garret Appleton, was one of their
heaviest traders! What do you know about that?”
And then, before the detective could speak, Wet-
more added, in mounting excitement: “I read in
the papers that you were on that case, Gaunt! I
believe that's why you called me up! What's
the connection, anyway? By Gad! anything
to do with Hitchcock getting out of Sing Sing just
at the same time? What the dev_”.
“No-no!” Gaunt laughed easily. "You're way
off, Mr. Wetmore. It's true enough that I'm
handling the Appleton affair-or trying to-but
I've got a lot more on hand, besides. Some of them
are civil cases—financial, you know. I wanted
the inside details of the Smith, Hitchcock V. Gregory
failure purely as a side issue on one of them.
By the way, did you know either of the two re-
maining partners?”.
“Knew 'em both-Smith better than Hitchcock,
though.”
“What was Hitchcock like?”
“Little, fat man, about forty-five; dressed like
a sport; high liver, good fellow-you know the
type. Widower with one son at college, when
the crash came.”
“And Smith?”
“Oh, Smith was just the opposite. Tall and
grave and dignified; no sport at all; director in
a lot of banks, vestryman of the church-that


194
AT ONE-THIRTY
sort. He had a funny walk, come to think of it.
Dragged one foot behind him-hurt in a runaway
accident, I believe.”
“What was his full name? Oh, but, of course,
I can look that up. I needn't take any more of
your time, Mr. Wetmore."
“That's all right; I know it like my own. It
was James Arbuckle Smith.”
"Thanks very much. I'm glad you could give
me the details. It's saved me a lot of time; although
I'm afraid it's taken yours. . . . By the way,
Mr. Wetmore, why don't you have that office
clock of yours fixed ?”
"Clock! What's the matter with it?”.
“I just heard it strike eleven, and it isn't a quar-
ter of the hour yet, for my own clock here on the
mantel always whirs at the quarters.”
“You're too sharp for me, Gaunt. I'm glad
you're not working on a case against me. Let me
know when you are going to start investigating
me, and I'll take to the woods."
Both men laughed, and Gaunt called:
“Well, don't forget to send me that list of the
firm's customers. ... Good-by.” And he reso-
lutely hung up the receiver.
“Miss Barnes,” he continued, turning to his
secretary, "there's a pile of letters there-nothing
important, I think; but you'd better answer them
today, please. I've got to take a run out in the
country.


DEVIOUS WAYS
195
99
He pressed the bell, and, when Jenkins appeared,
asked:
“Is Saunders waiting outside with the car?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Get my coat and hat, and tell the cook to put
up a lunch for Saunders and me, with hot coffee
in the vacuum bottle, right away.”
In a few moments, the simple preparations were
made, and they started down-town, headed for the
Battery and the Staten Island Ferry. Gaunt
wished to take the same route as Garret Apple-
ton had, in his nocturnal visit of three weeks be-
fore, to that little farm-house near New Bruns-
wick. Saunders knew the roads well, and they
skimmed through Staten Island, then over the
ferry to Perth Amboy. Out in the real country
once more, they paused by the roadside, master
and man, and ate their luncheon together with
great satisfaction. Then on again, until they
passed through the sleepy little village of Metuchen
and beyond its farther outskirts.
“Go on about a quarter of a mile, then stop at
the first house, and ask if the people within know
where the Smiths lived—the James A. Smiths.
If they can't tell you, drive on another quarter of
a mile, and ask again. Keep on asking until
you find someone who can tell you. Then go there."
“Very good, sir.”
From the third house, Saunders emerged trium-
phant.


196
AT ONE-THIRTY
“It's a half-mile down the road, sir; the fifth
house from here on the left?”
“All right. Go ahead.”
Saunders drove slowly, and finally brought the
car to a stop.
“Well, sir," he said, rather doubtfully, “I'm
sure this is the house the man told me. I counted
straight, coming along. But it can't be, because
its all closed up, and looks deserted.”
“That is the house, I think. What is on each
side of it?”
“Corn-field on the left, and a big white farm-
house, with red barns and stables set away back
from the road, on the right. 'Cross the way,
nothin' but cow-pasture an' fields, where rows of
somethin' green's been growin', as far as you can
see.” Saunders' lack of enthusiasm over a bucolic
existence was evidenced by the tone in which he
delivered his description.
“What is the farm-house like-the one right
here, which is closed up, I mean?"
“It's awful little, but real cozy-lookin',” Saunders
remarked critically, surveying it. "The yard is
full of flowers, and the house has been repainted
lately. There's a little bit of a stable, back-
you could hardly get the car in it-and a vegetable
garden and two hen-houses. That's about all."
“Drive up to the big farm, now; the one with
the red barns.”
Saunders obeyed, and they were greeted at the


DEVIOUS WAYS
197
door by a stout, good-natured woman, who vigor-
ously silenced the dogs' clamor by assailing
them with the broom.
“The men-folks is all out in the fields, gittin'
in the pumpkins an’ winter beets. We're reel late
with it; but we've been dretful short-handed this
fall, an' thank goodness there ain't be’n what you
might call an honest frost, yet!” she rattled off,
volubly. Then drawing a fresh breath, she asked:
“Who air you wantin' to see?”.
“The owner of that little farm-house down there,”
Gaunt replied, pointing vaguely in the direction
from which they had come.
“Silas owns it-my husband. I'm Mrs. Horner.
Won't you git out, an' set awhile?” The good
woman bustled about, setting chairs on the little
porch, and emitting an uninterrupted flow of words
as she did so. “I'm reel sorry about the house;
but we can't let it. 'Twouldn't be right. The
folks that had it have got a lease on it, all paid up
in advance for some months to come, an', though
they've gone away, they may come back, any
time. They've left all their furniture in it, an'
put lots of improvements besides."
Saunders helped his employer from the machine,
and guided him to a chair; then, turning to the
woman, he laid his hands across his eyes for a
moment, significantly. She nodded in quick, com-
passionate comprehension, and disappeared sud-
denly into the house, to reappear almost at once


198
AT ONE-THIRTY
with a tray, on which were two glasses and a brim-
ming pitcher of buttermilk.
“Thought you might be thirsty after your
ride," she remarked hospitably, as she poured out
a glassful, and thrust it into Gaunt's hand, then
turned with the tray to the grinning Saunders.
“You look 's if you'd come a good ways. I
was out in one of them sky-hootin' things once-
but not any more! We went over a thank-you-
ma'am the driver wasn't expectin'—we bounced
right up in the air! Silas came down on his thumb,
an' sprained it, an' I bit my tongue clear through.
... But about the house —”
“This buttermilk is delicious,” remarked Gaunt,
who loathed it. “It was kind of you to think of
it, Mrs. Horner.”
"I just made butter this mornin,” she remarked.
“But my cows ain't doin' so well this fall—”
“About the house,” the detective interrupted,
doggedly. “A man and his wife named Smith
lived there, didn't they?”
“Yes. I declare you're the third party in three
days that's been here askin' about them Smiths!
It's them you want to know about, an' not the
house, a-tall!”
“It is, Mrs. Horner,” Gaunt acknowledged
frankly, with his winning smile. “My interest
in them is a friendly one. I think I knew them
years ago, and I wanted to find them again. Was
the name James A. Smith?”


DEVIOUS WAYS
199
“Them's the very people, I expect!” she ex-
claimed, her risen suspicious quelled, as much by
his manner as his words.
“Was Mr. Smith tall and thin, and did he walk
a little lame, sort of dragging one foot behind
him?” the detective continued.
Mrs. Horner nodded vigorously.
“That's him! An' Mis' Smith was kinder sickly,
an’ wore a false front that a child could see through.”
“Yes, yes!" Gaunt cried hastily, while Saunders
turned respectfully away, and began to examine
his tires with a great show of interest, his shoulders
shaking. “They are the people I am looking for.
I can't imagine why they went away, or where."
"No more can Silas an' me,” returned the hostess.
“Goin' off sudden like that, an' leavin' no address-
though, to be sure, they didn't have no mail once
in a dog's age. We didn't know they was thinkin'
of it till the day before they left, when Mr. Smith
come up and asked Silas 'bout a. wagon to take
them an' their trunks to the station. When I
went down to take her the even's milk—they
bought eggs an' milk an' butter an' chickens from
us, an' hams an' sausage-meat in the fall-I
asked Mis' Smith where they was goin' an' when
they'd be home again, an' all she said was: “We've
been called away suddenly. I don't know yet
when we'll be back. Their trunks was checked
through to New York, Silas says, an' all the way
to the station Mis' Smith kep' worryin' 'bout


DEVIOUS WAYS
201
they had one of Silas's hired hands twice a week
to look after their vegetable garden. Mis' Smith
learned, though, to tend her flowers reel nice, an'
she loved 'em.”
"You love them, too, don't you, Mrs. Horner?
But let me tell you that your phlox would be
hardier if you would plant a purple and white
together in one clump, instead of separating it with
dahlias and asters."
“Good land!” Mrs. Horner pushed back her
chair, and stared at him. “I-I thought-"
“And your path is bordered with them. I
could not help smelling them as I came up from my
car. . . . But tell me, Mrs. Horner, you say the
Smith's put improvements in the house?”.
“Yes. For all they lived so simple an' plain,
just like us, they seemed to hev money to spend
on anything they wanted. They put a bath-
room in when they first come, an' a little engine
in the cellar to pump water up to the tank, an'
enlarged the porch. Las' spring they painted
the house. Mis' Smith had a lovely pianner,
an' she played beautiful, an’ they had more books
than a body could read in a life time. They bought
a horse an' rig, too; but they sold it back to Jed
Williamson, three days before they left. We
might 'a' knowed from that they was goin' away!
They was queer in some ways, too; never went
to church, or mixed-up in village doin's, but jus'
kep' by themselves. Mis' Smith wasn't satis-


DEVIOUS WAYS
203
the more high-keyed are its tones? I can tell most
breeds of dogs by their bark—not only their tones,
but their manner of barking; yapping, or baying,
or deep growls or little, sharp, hysterical snaps.
All except mongrels, of course. ... Well, good-
day, Mrs. Horner.”
“Good-day, Mr. Baylis. You'll come back when
the Smiths do?”
“Yes, yes,” Gaunt answered, with a slight
smile, "I will come back when the Smiths do."
Saunders had already cranked up the car, and
now assisted Gaunt to it, while Mrs. Horner followed
them, with cordial invitations to return.
On the way home, Gaunt thought: “I must
have Miss Barnes look up the steamers, and see
which ones left on Wednesday, a fortnight ago,
at noon or after, and their destination. . . . So,
that end of the string finishes in-a knot!”


CHAPTER XIII
THE END OF A FALSE SCENT
"THE SULTANIC sailed at noon on the ninth,
for Plymouth, Cherbourg, and Southamp-
ton; the Prinzessin Clotilde, at three in
the afternoon for the Mediterranean; the Saxonia
for Panama, the West Indies, and South America,
at four," Miss Barnes announced, in precise tones,
the next morning.
“Humph!” Gaunt remarked. “They know Eu-
rope best; but they'd scarcely dare England or
France, just yet. The Mediterranean-Algiers-
Miss Barnes, please call up the South German
Lloyd Line, and get the ticket-agent on the wire.
There's a chance, of course, that they bought their
tickets through an agency; but their names would
be on the private record, if not on the published
passenger-list, even if they purchased their tickets
at the very last moment, which doesn't seem
likely, from Mrs. Smith's remarks on the way to
the station. If I cannot get a positive description
of them, I must wait until the Prinzessin Clotilde
docks here again.”
He was in the habit of thinking aloud to Miss
204


THE END OF A FALSE SCENT
205
Barnes, who went composedly about her busi-
ness, and evidenced not the slightest inclination
of having heard, or paid any attention. Now,
she put the receiver down upon the desk at his
hand.
“There you are, Mr. Gaunt. The ticket-agent
is on the wire.”
“I should like to know, please, if a man and
his wife sailed on the Prinzessin Clotilde, two weeks
ago last Wednesday, whose initials were J. A. S.”
“Just a moment, please.”
A pause; and then the same voice came over
the wire:
“No, sir.”
“You are sure?”
“Perfectly sure. The sailing-list was small. It's
early yet for the rush to the southern part of Europe,
and not a ticket was sold too late to get the name
on the published list.”
“Thank you. ... Good-by.”
Gaunt proceeded to call up the Blue Star Line,
and got the ticket-agent, to whom he put the same
question.
This time the answer was a different one:
“Yes, sir. Judson A. Smiley and wife sailed
on the Saxonia, on the ninth, for Cayenne, French
Guiana, first class.”
“Thank you. There are the people I was look-
ing, for I think; but I should like to be sure. Did


THE END OF A FALSE SCENT
207
intention had been to live quietly, in ostentatious
poverty, within easy reach of the law, until all
suspicion that they had received any share of the lost
seventeen hundred thousand dollars was past and
the whole affair forgotten. Then they had meant
to go quietly to Europe, and live out the remainder
of their lives in peace and plenty.
But the unexpected and premature pardon of
Hitchcock had upset their well-planned scheme,
and they had been forced to flee the country.
Hitchcock himself had served his time. He had
nothing more to fear from the world, and, when he
found that he had been swindled out of his share of
the proceeds of the fraudulent transaction, he would
inevitably have revenged himself upon his partner,
who had been equally guilty, by betraying him.
The detective was beginning to see to the end of
this branch of his investigation. That the Smiths
had in their possession only a part of the money
never accounted for, he felt convinced, and he felt
equally sure that he knew who it was that had
held the greater portion within his grasp.
Gaunt reached his rooms in New York, late in
the afternoon, and proceeded at once to call up the
district attorney, who was, fortunately, an old
friend and confrère of his.
“I say, I want to know something. My secre-
tary read an article in the newspaper the other
day, which rather interested me. I am on a pri-


208
AT ONE-THIRTY
vate case, which goes back indirectly to that Smith,
Hitchcock V. Gregory crash, in Wall Street, four
years ago. I hear that Hitchcock was pardoned,
last week, and is now at liberty."
“Not pardoned, Gaunt, paroled.”
“Oh, then of course, you know where he is?”.
"Oh, it's no secret. Only, I suppose the poor
devil wouldn't want the papers to find out his
whereabouts just yet, and send a horde of reporters
to worry him. In anticipation of his release, his
son brought a small place down near Hempstead,
Long Island, and took his father there at once.”
"And he is there now?” Gaunt "asked, and
smiled rather grimly at the district attorney's
reply.
“Of course. He hasn't left there since he was
released, a week ago. I guess he is only too glad
of a chance to hide for awhile, and rest until he
can get his nerve back.”
"All right. Thanks, old man. . . . Good-by.”
He turned to Miss Burns.
“Will you please call up information, and ask
if Rupert Hitchcock, Junior, has a telephone,
and, if so, put me on the wire.”
There was a few minutes' pause, and then Miss
Barnes announced:
"Central says they have a telephone; but they
don't answer.”
“Ask her to keep ringing them, please.”


210
AT ONE-THIRTY
“I am sorry—that will be impossible ".
And the door began to close. Gaunt heard it
creak, and put his hand against the casing.
“I am absolutely not connected with the news-
papers, or police department. I have news for
your father, which I am sure will be of great
interest to him, and I may be able to save him
much notoriety and some trouble.”
There was a pause, and then the voice said:
“Wait just a moment, please.”
This time Gaunt allowed the other to close
the door very gently, and, after a few minutes,
returning steps were heard, and the door opened
a little farther.
“Who is that with you, please, Mr. Gaunt?”
“My chauffeur. ... Saunders, go back and
wait in the car.”
Saunders •retreated, and the young man opened
the door wide.
“Come in,” he said. “You see, we accept your
word that you are not connected with the press.
From the police, my father has nothing to fear."
Gaunt hesitated and smiled a little, as he said,
simply:
“You will have to guide me, Mr. Hitchcock.
I am blind.”
“Ah! I did not know, of course. You will
pardon me. Come this way.-He led him across
a narrow hall, and into a room in which an open


212
AT ONE-THIRTY
“The police have done thei“ worst to me-the
law has taken its pound of flesh! As you must
know, Mr. Gaunt, I have nothing to fear from
them.”
"If you can prove an alibi,” the detective sug-
gested, quietly.
The other man started nervously.
“An alibi!” he stammered.
“For the night following your interview—the
night of Mr. Appleton's murder.”
“Oh, I can do that, of course, if necessary,”
Rupert Hitchcock replied, eagerly. “I under-
stand from the newspapers that Appleton's—
murder--did not occur until after midnight. My
son and I were not alone from nine o'clock in the
evening until six the following morning. But,
you don't mean, Mr. Gaunt, that I am suspected
of his murder?”
“Not at all. Should it become necessary, how-
ever, it's fortunate that you are so well prepared.
... Mr. Hitchcock, I know, of course, of the
failure of your firm and the manner in which it
was brought about from the inside; but I do not
know all the details. I am afraid that both
Smith and Garret Appleton turned traitors to
you.”
“They did, curse them-and they are both
beyond my reach! Smith has disappeared, and
Appleton is dead!”


THE END OF A FALSE SCENT
213
“Do you know where Smith has gone?”
“No, Mr. Gaunt. I'd give ten years of the rest
of my wretched existence to find out."
“He and his wife sailed from New York on the
Saxonia, of the Blue Star Line, for Cayenne, French
Guiana, on the ninth of October last.”
“I'll get them!” the other man cried. “I'll
get them, if it takes my last cent!”.
“But, if they've gone to one of the non-extra-
dition States of Central America,” the de-
tective asked.
“I'll get them!” Rupert Hitchcock repeated,
vehemently. “I'll find them wherever they've
gone, and drive them to some place where they can
be reached.”
“But you cannot invoke the aid of the law to
return you your share of—let us say—the profits,
of your joint transaction.”
“No; but I can give him up to justice. I can
put him where I was, make him endure the hell
I lived through, for four terrible years."
“Think of his wife,” the detective began,
gently.
But the other man turned upon him, with long
pent-up fury:
“Did he or his wife think of my son, when they
made a scapegoat of me, to protect themselves,
and robbed me of the money we had saved from
the wreck? He's a fine young man, Mr. Gaunt;


THE END OF A FALSE SCENT 217
interests, to put a bullet in him that night. You
can see that for yourself.”
“Yes, of course, Mr. Hitchcock. That is plain.
... I am glad you have been so frank with me,
and, if I find I can do anything for you in return,
I shall do so. If Police Inspector Hanrahan should
call upon you, however, at any time, about that
alibi of yours, I advise you, for your own sake,
to see him.”
“Oh, I don't mind seeing him. He hasn't got
any evidence against me, and I can prove where
I was every minute of Monday night. . . . Be-
fore you go, Mr. Gaunt, I want to thank you.
You have done a lot for me—more than you think!
You've told me, at least, where to start my search
for Jim Smith, and, when I get him where I want
him, you'll know it before a letter from me could
reach you.”
“But you'll not be in a hurry about it, Mr.
Hitchcock, will you? You'll want time to get
your strength back first. If Jim Smith has gone
to a non-extradition country, you may be sure
he will stay there for a time, at least, and you
must recover your strength, after your long con-
finement.”
“Oh, I will do, all right. I'll never be well,
till I get Jim Smith in my clutches. But what
made you think there was anything the matter
with me?”


218
AT ONE-THIRTY
arn
as
“Your step drags peculiarly; you had a stroke
while in prison-didn't you?-and you sit all
hunched up, with your head bowed over on your
chest. I can tell by the constriction of your throat,
where your collar compresses it when you speak,
and you want to take care of that dry, hacking
cough of yours.”
“Central America is good for a cough of that
sort,” Rupert Hitchcock returned, dryly, as he
guided the detective to the door. “Good-night,
Mr. Gaunt."
Gaunt slept all the way home in the car, and
arrived cramped and chilled to the bone. It was
late, and he meant to retire at once. But a burly
figure was sitting in his chair before the hearth,
and the odor of Inspector Hanrahan's favorite
brand of tobacco filled the library.
“Where the deuce have you been, Mr. Gaunt?
I've been waiting for you since seven o'clock."
“Sorry, Inspector; but I have been out in the
country interviewing your two friends."
"My two-what?" asked the mystified Inspec-
tor.
“The stout, middle-aged man and the tall,
young one, who were talking with Garret Apple-
ton, near the Rocky Point Inn, on Monday after-
noon.”
“Well, I'm damned!”
The Inspector seated himself again heavily, and
man


- THE END OF A FALSE SCENT
219
stared at the tall, thin figure slowly divesting
himself of his coat.
"I suppose you know who he is?” Gaunt pur-
sued, with quiet amusement.
“That I don't! I've not been able to find the
slightest trace of them—nor of those Smiths, in
New Jersey, either!”
"Well, if you are going after them, you'd better
start soon to catch up with them. They are
somewhere in the wilds of Central America, by
now.”
Gaunt seated himself, filled his pipe, and told
the Inspector all that he had learned. The official
listened gravely until he had finished; then, after
a long pause, he said thoughtfully:
"It's darned funny, how you can get information
out of people, Mr. Gaunt. I didn't find out a thing
from the waiter, or head waiter, at that inn, nor
the old couple back in the woods, either, although
I roared at them like a bull.”
Gaunt smiled, quietly, to himself.
“Our methods differ, that's all.”
"And as for that woman, down in Jersey—that
farmer's wife! Good Lord, Mr. Gaunt, she'd talk
the legs off an iron pot; but she never says any-
thing! She thought I was a book-agent, came to
collect on some of that bunch of books the Smiths
had, and she chased me off the place, as if I was
a stray dog."
the old at them like ily, to himsin
as


THE END OF A FALSE SCENT
221
"And-er-going to call on Mrs. Finlay Apple-
ton? You'll probably find her at home.”
The Inspector threw up his hands, and departed.
He rose lumberingly to depart; but at the door
Gaunt halted him.
"Have you thought of attempting to trace the
jewelry that was taken from the body?”
“I've had every office and pawnshop within the
limits of greater New York fine-combed; for all
trace of them, they might be in the bottom of the
sea.” The detective shrugged.
“Perhaps they are,” he returned, and after the
Inspector had taken his departure, Gaunt murmured
to himself, that that would be one solution.
sea


CHAPTER XIV
A GLIMMER OF LIGHT
CYUNDAY morning was a quiet one for Gaunt.
He slept late, after his fatiguing exertions
of the previous day, and lingered luxuriously
over his after-breakfast smoke. In order to leave
no stone unturned, he had perforce followed the
clue originally unearthed by Inspector Hanrahan,
until he had proved conclusively that it had no
connection with the case under investigation;
but this had been merely routine work. He must
wait patiently until young Mrs. Appleton was able
to grant him an interview.
For some days, a faint idea had impressed itself
insistently on his subconscious mind, born partly
of a flash of his rarely developed intuition, and
partly from a curious pause in a conversation,
which had taken place there in his own library.
It seemed the wildest of assumptions, the most
improbable that he had ever allowed himself to
entertain, and yet there was damning evidence in
his possession, of either one of two facts, and they
appeared, on profound reflection, to be equally
incredible.
222


A GLIMMER OF LIGHT
223
Miss Barnes, unless he urgently needed her,
did not come to him on Sundays, and he sat in
the library, wistfully fingering the pile of volumin-
ous newspapers until Jenkins, who was hovering
anxiously about him-always uneasy when the
master was inactive-suggested reading them to
him. The man seated himself at a respectful
distance, and patiently and laboriously droned out
the headlines until Gaunt could endure it no
longer, and put an end to it by remarking that
he had forgotten a telephone message of impor-
tance.
Lifting the receiver from its hook, he called the
Appleton house, and, as before, asked for Miss
Ellerslie. Her low, sweet voice, vibrating over
the wire, thrilled him, as it had ever done, to the
very core of his being; but, for the first time, it
carried an inexplicable pang to his heart, and the
memory of Randolph Force, and their single inter-
view, rose in his mind.
Barbara Ellerslie's voice had lost the note of
trembling anxiety, and held a rising gladness and
joy, which swept his senses like music, as she told
him of her sister's returning strength.
“It seems wonderful, Mr. Gaunt!” she was say-
ing. “My sister is already better than we had
dared hope, and all danger to her, of any sort, is
over. The doctor is amazed at her strength and
recuperative powers, no less than . I am. But


224
AT ONE-THIRTY
there seems to be something preying on her mind-
something more than the death of her husband,
I mean. She is eager to see you, and the doctor
thinks, in view of her improved condition, that it
would be better to allow her to do so, and set her
mind at rest. If she is as well tomorrow as she
seems today, she will be able to see you. Can
you come in the afternoon?”
Tomorrow! Tomorrow, then, would see the
end of the problem that was wrestling from him all
peace of mind, and driving from his thoughts every
other consideration. That little Mrs. Appleton
held in her slender fingers the key to the mystery,
was a conviction which had been growing in his
mind since the day of the murder, when, after his
last interview with her, he had heard, from with-
out the closed door of her room, the half-hysterical,
half-delirious, wholly despairing cry, “Barbara!
He knows! He knows!”
That he had not taxed Miss Ellerslie, herself,
with his knowledge of that cry, and wrung from her
the truth as to at what hour during the previous
night Natalie Appleton had been in the room where
her husband sat, living or dead, was a self-reproach,
which he strove to excuse on the plea that other
and more obvious clues clamored for investiga-
tion. But he now made no further attempt to de-
ceive himself. He had spared her because he had
shrunk instinctively from causing her more pain,


226
AT ONE-THIRTY
first time in his career; against that dangerous,
maddening appeal to every sensation, every impulse,
every leaping desire of his heart! Come what
might, the murderer of Garret Appleton must be
brought to justice!
Early in the afternoon, Inspector Hanrahan
appeared, true to his promise. He shook hands
with the detective, in an abashed way which ill
accorded with his self-assurance of the past few days,
and betrayed the result of his fruitless errand of
the morning, before he spoke.
: “Well, Mr. Gaunt, you were right. That trail's
ended. Hitchcock left the Crabtree cottage at
half-past seven, Monday night, reached New York
a little after nine, picked up a few old friends of
his, who'd stuck to him, it seems, through every-
thing, and took them out to his son's little house
in Hempstead. They all sat up most of the night
together-not drinking, or carousing, or celebrat-
ing, or anything like that; just talking over old
times, and planning to give him a lift over the
hard places of the future. Sort of a reunion, it
was. Three of them are prominent, absolutely
reputable business men, and I've seen them all.
They swear Hitchcock was in their company from
half-past nine on the night of the murder, until
six the next morning, when they all went to bed.
Now, Appleton was alive for four hours after
they claim they met Hitchcock, and it's morally


A GLIMMER OF LIGHT
227
certain he couldn't have committed the murder
after six in the morning. So, that lets him out.”
“And now, what?” asked Gaunt, quietly.
“Do you know what I think?” the Inspector
remarked, very seriously. “I've never admitted
this in a case before, even when it's been finally
dropped from the police record, but I shouldn't
be surprised if this murder was never solved!
It's happened before, you know; but there's never
been another case like this in the annals of the
department; one with so many clues at the start,
and all of them leading to nothing!”.
“So we are just back where we started,” the
detective observed.
“Yes,” Inspector Hanrahan assented, ruefully.
"And it'll be a week tomorrow since the mur-
der. . . . Say, how about it being a case of suicide,
and one of the family, coming on the body by chance,
fixed up that little burglary stunt to save the .
family name from the disgrace, and all that? It'll
be a good frame-up for me to send in to head-
quarters, anyway, if the truth don't come to light.
If only we could find out that one of the family
had changed the scenery like that, it'd be plain
sailing!”
“It's not too late yet, you know,” remarked
· Gaunt. “Think of those weeks we worked on
the Delamater murders.”
“I know; but there we had somethin' to go


A GLIMMER OF LIGHT
229
learned by experience in many previous cases,
that nervousness first manifested itself in the mouth,
the dryness of the throat, the thickness of the
tongue. Randolph Force would seek to relieve
that nervousness. It would induce thirst, and, if
a glass of water were handy-
“Ask him to come up, now, and don't interrupt
us for anything, unless I ring the bell."
“Very good, sir.”
“But, first, Jenkins, bring me a glass, a thin,
tall glass of water, with one piece of ice in it, about
the size-oh, of an egg, say, and put it on the cor-
ner of the center-table, near the right arm of that
big leather chair. ... That will do. Now, bring
him up.”
The detective had not anticipated this call, and
yet, gaging the man's character as he had in-
stinctively done at their first interview, he felt
that it was not wholly inconsistent with his concep-
tion.
He heard their steps approaching, and Jenkins
tapped softly, then opened the door.
"How do you do, Mr. Force?” Gaunt said. “I
am glad you have come.”
They shook hands cordially, and the door closed
behind Jenkins' retreating figure. Randolph Force
started mechanically toward the chair by the fire-
place; but the detective stopped him suavely,
and motioned to the large arm-chair by the center-


230
AT ONE-THIRTY
table. When they had seated themselves, Mr.
Force volunteered an explanation of his call.
“I lunched with Miss Ellerslie today, Mr.
Gaunt. She told me of her talk with you over the
telephone this morning, and that you were to have
an interview with Mrs. Appleton-young Mrs.
Appleton-tomorrow. She suggested my calling
this afternoon, to learn what has been going for-
ward, if you have discovered anything which is
of importance. I need not tell you how anxious
we all are to have the mystery of Garret Appleton's
death cleared up. The girls do not mean to be
impatient; but the uncertainty, the suspense, are
almost unbearable.”
“Naturally," replied Gaunt. “Everything is
being done that is possible, and you may tell Miss
Ellerslie for me that, although I can make no
promises, I am sure I shall have definite news for
her before long." .
"I am glad of that." Force paused, as if uncer-
tain just how to continue, and Gaunt opened a
box of cigars that stood upon the center-table.
“Will you smoke?”
“Thanks, no. I had a cigar just after luncheon, .
which was rather stronger than those I am accus-
tomed to, and my throat seems dry.” The young
man coughed rather nervously, as he spoke. “I
don't think I'll smoke any more, for awhile."
"Perhaps some water-" The detective made a


A GLIMMER OF LIGHT
231
gesture toward the glass, which stood upon the
center-table near his visitor's hand. Then he
seated himself, and filled his pipe. “Inspector
Hanrahan was here when you arrived—that was
why I was compelled to keep you waiting for a
few moments. He seems quite discouraged. He
even went so far as to say to me, in confidence, of
course, that the mystery might never be solved.”
Randolph Force leaned forward suddenly in his
chair.
“Well, isn't that just possible, Mr. Gaunt?”
He was unaware, perhaps, of the abrupt inten-
sity in his tones.
"Everything is possible, Mr. Force. The fact
that I have never yet lost a case upon which I was
engaged-I am not boasting, I am stating a fact-
does not, of course, preclude the possibility of my
losing this one; but, unlike the Inspector, I am
still full of confidence.”
"You—you have found further evidence, per-
haps, to go on?”
The younger man turned suddenly to the table,
and, seizing the glass of water, gulped down half
its contents, the ice clinking violently, as the
glass shook in his trembling hand. It was the
signal for which Gaunt had arranged.
"I have evidence-yes, and proof in abundance,
of the minor details. But I will confess to you,
Mr. Force, that I still lack the key to the whole


232
AT ONE-THIRTY
situation. The roux of the mystery is still beyond
my grasp.”,
“It seems like such a useless tragedy, doesn't
it?” the younger man ventured. “There doesn't
seem to be an atom of motive, and that weak attempt
at making it seem like the work of a burglar, an
attempt which a mere child could see through,
seems to me like the work of a person whose mind
was unhinged. I cannot make head or tail of the
whole proceeding."
"Perhaps you have not a detective's instinct,”
Gaunt replied, quietly. “There are a half-dozen
entirely different hypotheses, which would account
for every detail that now seems inexplicable to
you, Mr. Force, and yet each would seem like the
work of a very sane person, indeed, and a very
shrewd and crafty one.
“The inspiration of the rearrangement of the
room, hours after Garret Appleton's death, was a
clever and daring one; although bunglingly carried
out, I admit. But remember that the person who
sought to accomplish it was unnerved, working
under great stress of grief, or apprehension, and
knew the necessity for absolute silence, and the
fear of being momentarily discovered at his grim
task.”
Randolph Force moved uneasily in his chair,
and swallowed audibly. Then, he reached again
for the glass of water, sipped a little, and held the


A GLIMMER OF LIGHT
235
es
to be purely extraneous, unless one has a theory
to build on; and theories are dangerous things to
handle. I never disclose my theories until I have
proved them, and then, you see, they become no
longer theories, but facts, ... Do you know if
Miss Ellerslie has seen Mrs. Finlay Appleton, or
Mr. Appleton?”
“At the funeral, of course; and Mrs. Appleton
has sent flowers twice to her daughter-in-law, but
has not called. Yates called once, or twice, I
believe; but Miss Ellerslie was too busy with her
sister to see him.”
“Mr. Force," Gaint leaned forward, in his
turn, “are you a member of the Patriarchs' Club?”.
“Yes. But I seldom go there. The club has
greatly changed in character since I was first a
member.”
“How long ago is that?”
Randolph Force set the glass again upon the
table.
“An active member? For about fifteen years?”
The younger man laughed pleasantly. "I was
put up for membership the day I was born. My
grandfather was one of its founders. The Patri-
archs' was one of the most exclusive clubs in the
city.”
"How do you mean it has changed in char-
acter?”
“It's become more sporty than conservative. ...


236
AT ONE-THIRTY
Se
Don't think I'm an old fogy, or a prig, Mr. Gaunt.
It's only that I like polo better as a game than a
gamble, I prefer yacht-racing to watching a horse-
race ticker, and I would rather go to the play, or
a dance, or stay quietly at home, and read, and
wake up with a clear head in the morning, than
sit all night in a game with men, half of whom
cannot afford to lose, and drink till I cannot see
the cards. The Patriarchs', although its roster of
members still contains the best and oldest names
in New York, has, in my estimation, ceased to be
a gentlemen's club."
“Have you been there lately?”
"Not in weeks.”
“Indeed! I ask because I wondered if you were
there on Monday evening.'
“No. I was at the wedding, with Miss Ellers-
lie. My mother and I called for her, and brought
her home."
Gaunt had succeeded in his purpose. The change
of subject, to that of the club, had had the desired
effect, and the younger man's nervousness seemed
to have dropped from him. Temporarily, he was
off his guard.
"And during the wedding and the reception
which, followed, did Miss Ellerslie seem quite as
usual? You noticed nothing out of the ordinary
in her manner?”
“Oh, she seemed in brighter spirits than I've


A GLIMMER OF LIGHT
237
seen her for a long time. She's been worrying
about her sister a great deal lately, you know.
Only, toward the last-” He hesitated, and his
latent reserve manifested itself again.
“Toward the last—what?" asked the detective,
quickly.
"I-I think she must have overheard something;
some idle gossip not meant for her ears. It had
distressed her greatly, and she asked to be taken
home. She would not tell me what it was that
she had heard; but something must have occurred
to change her mood so greatly.”
“Gossip! Not about herself, surely?”.
“Certainly not! It must have been about
Garret!” Randolph Force spoke hastily, stung by
the insinuation in Gaunt's question, as the latter
had intended he should be. The young man
turned to the table, raised the glass, and drained
what little was left of its contents. Then, it
slipped from his quivering fingers, and fell crash-
ing to the floor, shattered into a thousand bits.
“Oh, I say—I-I'm awfully sorry!”
“It doesn't matter in the least, Mr. Force. ...
What was that you were saying about the gossip
Miss Ellerslie heard at the wedding—some gossip
about Garret Appleton?” But, even as he spoke,
he knew that the younger man had realized his
mistake the instant he had spoken, and that,
now fully on his guard, he would not allow himself


A GLIMMER OF LIGHT
239
anywhere else besides on the Street? In the
clubs, for instance? Think, Mr. Force.”
“I-I really don't remember. It is so long
ago. Of course, Garret was never very well liked
by men, you know. The set into which he could
have bought his way would have welcomed him;
but he wasn't the buying kind. There was the
other class, who threw open their doors to him be-
cause of his family, his name. But for himself-
well, he was never popular. 1-I think there was
some talk, some guarded criticism; but it is scarcely
fair to speak of it now, is it?”
“Do you remember the nature of that criticism?”
Gaunt was determined to bring out his point.
“Was there any talk of his having been indirectly
connected with the failure?”
“Really, I cannot remember. That would be
a dangerous accusation to bring against a man,
wouldn't it?” Force glanced at the clock on the
mantel. “I didn't know it was so late!” he ex-
claimed, in well, but not adequately, feigned
surprise. “I have an engagement-I must be
going on.” He rose, and held out his hand hastily,
as if eager to be gone.
"I'm glad you came in, Mr. Force,” said Gaunt,
rising, and shaking him warmly by the hand.
“I've been very much interested in our little talk.
Run in whenever you can.”
"I shall be delighted to." Mr. Force had crossed


240
AT ONE-THIRTY
to the door, and Gaunt could hear the knob turn-
ing beneath his hand, in his anxiety to be safely
beyond the reach of any further astute questioning.
“You will let us know when, as you said, your
theories turn to facts, Mr. Gaunt?”
"I promise you," returned Gaunt, rather grimly,
“that, when they do, you shall know."


CHAPTER XV
AT HALF-PAST FOUR IN THE MORNING
S he dressed, Gaunt thought over the inter-
view of the afternoon.
Randolph Force had undoubtedly come
to find out, if possible, what real progress the de-
tective had made toward the discovery of the truth,
and his manner had unmistakably suggested that
he entertained, for some reason known only to
himself, a willingness to have the tragedy sink into
oblivion, an eagerness that it should remain un-
solved, which was significant.
He had, however, unwittingly placed in Gaunt's
possession a few details, which, in a flash of that
rarely developed quality of his-that never closing
eye of the mind, which so often had served him to
far greater purpose than the physical vision of his
confrères-had revealed to him a new train of
thought, a possibility which, vague as it was, and
wholly without substantiation, loomed larger as
a probability with each passing moment of reflec-
tion.
If there had been rumors in the Street and in
clubdom, as Randolph Force had admitted, of
241


242
AT ONE-THIRTY
Garret Appleton's possible connection with, and
connivance at, the failure of Smith, Hitchcock
& Gregory at the time it occurred, was it not
likely that those rumors had been revived by the
announcement in the papers of the pardon granted
to Rupert Hitchcock, and his release? Might those
whispers not have been rife in the Patriarchs',
on that Monday evening when Yates had gone
there to play? If so, it was not wholly. improbable
that he had chanced to overhear them, and, ex-
cited no less by the wine he had been drinking,
in his semi-drugged condition, than by the thought
of the night's losses, and the maddening problem
of how he was to pay them, he had rushed home
incontinently, demanded the money from his
brother, and, on receiving the usual refusal, ren-
dered more insulting by Garret Appleton's mood,
had taunted his brother with the tale he had just
overheard, had even, perhaps, demanded a price
for his silence toward his mother and sister-in-
law.
In that case, it would be small wonder if Garret,
flaming into sudden rage, had uttered some un-
answerable insult, which had provoked Yates into
striking-might even have aroused murder in his
heart.
And then, suddenly, Gaunt paused, and the hands
which had been arranging his tie dropped to his
side, as a swift ray of light darted through his brain.


AT HALF-PAST FOUR IN THE MORNING
243
In a revealing moment, one phase of the mystery
was made clear to him, and he could have cursed
himself for his stupidity of the past week. Why
had that hypothesis not occurred to him at once?
Had his brain become dulled, rusted, that he had
not instantly grasped the significance of the chain
of events, or had his ears been deaf to the cry of
reason, hearing only the low, vibrating music
of a woman's voice?
He determined not to delay, but to put this new
theory to the test at once, that very night. With
no proof to go upon but the evidence of his in-
tuition, he meant to try a supremely daring bluff.
If it failed, no more harm would have been done
than that one man would consider him a fool
incarnate, and, considering the man, he thought
he should be able to endure that with equanimity.
But something told him that he would not fail.
He dined mechanically, his mind intent upon
the coming interview, then ordered his car, and
drove around to the aprtments of Yates Apple-
ton. He found him at home, alone, and sulking.
With no interests within himself, no resources
save the usual round of restaurants and clubs,
the enforced seclusion, which conventional mourn-
ing thrust upon him, no less than the notoriety,
which the tragedy had cast upon the family, bored
him almost to extinction, and he was seriously
contemplating a greater indulgence in cocaine than


AT HALF-PAST FOUR IN THE MORNING
245
being on the inside in that Smith, Hitchcock &
Gregory failure?" Gaunt shot at him.
“What!” Yates Appleton exclaimed; but his
voice died away in his throat.
“When did you first hear of it? At the time of
the failure or in the Patriarchs' Club, last Mon-
day night?”
The young man, opened his lips; but only a queer,
gurgling, strangling sound issued from them.
“When you taunted your brother with it, at
midnight in the den—” the detective went on,
inexorably. But there was no need for him to
complete his sentence. The shot had struck home.
“So Dakers did hear me, after all-the lying
hound!” Yates Appleton sprang from his chair.
“I wouldn't have mentioned it to Garret—I guess
it was no news to him, anyway; some of the
talk must have reached his ears long ago-only,
I was desperate for money with which to pay my
debts, and, when he refused so insolently to help
me, it came over me all at once what a fraud he
was, what a damned crook, and I let him have
it before I thought.”
“And you had heard of it for the first time,
at the club that night?”
“No. Of course not. It had been hinted at
on all sides at the time of the crash, and some of
the talk had come indirectly to my ears; but I
hadn't paid any attention to it. I never gave


AT HALF-PAST FOUR IN THE MORNING 247
at cards, and I didn't knock the man down be-
cause-oh, because he was bigger than I was!
That's all. My brother Aung that in my face,
and then 1-I struck him! You know what hap-
pened after that.”
“Yes.” The detective straightened suddenly in
his chair. “You went out, and returned home
at about three, and your valet assisted you to
bed, and then retired himself. ... Did you go
to sleep, immediately?”
“I suppose so. I don't remember.” Young Mr.
Appleton's tones had sunk from passion to mere
sullenness; but, at the last question, he glanced
furtively at the impassive face of his interrogator,
as if some unaccustomed telepathic wave had .
conveyed to his shrinking mind a premonition
of what was to come.
“When did you wake? Do you know what time
it was?”
“Why, of-of course! At half-past six, or there-
abouts, when Katie screamed—”
"No-no!” Gaunt interrupted, speaking with
dangerous quietness. “I mean before that, when
you wakened, and could not sleep again—when you
dared use no more cocaine, and went down-stairs,
probably for a drink from the decanter, which
you knew was in the den, and found your brother's
body—”
A snarling scream, like that of a trapped animal,


248
· AT ONE-THIRTY
ISSUI
rent the air, and cut off the sound of the detective's
voice, and then the quick, gasping sobs of a man's
hysteria, with a high, thin wail of craven fear run-
ning through them, indescribably repulsive to
listen to.
Gaunt waited until the outburst had somewhat
spent itself, and then, to make assurance doubly
sure, he asked sternly:
“What are you going to do with them?”
The sobs gradually grew more faint, and Yates
Appleton lay back once more in his chair, broken
and exhausted with the storm of emotion, which
had swept all thought, all effort, from him, and
bared his drug-shattered nerves to the torturing,
penetrating, inner gaze of his terrible inquisitor.
"What do you-mean?” he breathed. “Do
with-what?"
"The things you took from your brother's body,
to make it appear that a burglary had been com-
mitted. You could not hide them here; for they
would be found, and your guilt be assumed as a
foregone conclusion. You would not have dared
to keep them much longer, and you don't know
how to get rid of them. What are you going to
do with them?”
"I don't know-I don't know!” the young man
moaned, his head between his hands. “They've
been before my eyes day and night, night and day!
I didn't want to take them with me. Their very


AT HALF-PAST FOUR IN THE MORNING
249
touch is loathesome to me; but I couldn't leave
them in the den anywhere, for fear, in the ran-
sacking the police would give the place, they would
be found, and the burglary theory proved a fraud.
I did not realize how I bungled it-how easily the
truth would be discovered.”
"But why did you do it?" Gaunt asked, quite
as if he did not know the reason, had not known
all, in that illuminating flash of inspiration of a
few hours before. “Why did you rearrange the
room, and remove your brother's valuables? Why
didn't you shout, and arouse the house, and start
the search for the slayer?”
“Oh, can't you understand?" Yates Appleton
was eagerly, pathetically anxious to unburden
himself of the weight he had carried about with
him in silence, for an interminable week. Conceal-
ment appeared to be no longer within the range
of his thoughts, and he exhibited an almost child-
like faith in the belief that Gaunt would recognize
the truth, had already recognized it, and that he
was safer in the detective's hands than his own.
“I was afraid I should be accused of having killed
him. The chauffeur knew that I had returned
to the house at midnight, remained half an hour,
and come out in a towering rage, with my hand all
bruised, too. I-I must have given Garret a terrific
blow. Then, I didn't know who might have seen
me enter or leave, or have heard us quarreling.
me


AT HALF-PAST FOUR IN THE MORNING
251
couldn't; and you were right in saying that I was
afraid to use any more cocaine-I was! I'd used
too much already, the night before, and I felt like
the mischief from it, or I should have doped my-
self for fair, and slept it off. I thought a drink
would help me; but I had nothing of that sort
in my rooms. Then I remembered that decanter
in the den, if Garret hadn't emptied it. It was
easier to get to than the cellarette in the dining-
room, and, besides, Dakers had probably locked
that up for the night-he is so confoundedly method-
ical! There was a night-light burning, of course,
and I got up and looked at my watch, which was
lying on the dresser. It was half-past four o'clock.
I knew then that my brother would either have
gone to bed, or be asleep in his chair in the den.
That-that had happened before, and I knew
that, if he was there, he would not hear me his
sleep would be too sound—” he broke off, with
a gulping sob.
“So you went down?” asked Gaunt, gently.
“Yes. I put on a robe and a pair of soft slippers,
and got down as quietly as I could. The night-
lamp was burning in the hall, and I could see, as
I drew near it, that the light was still in the den,
too. When I reached the door,” he faltered,
and shuddering, burried his face in his hands.
“Well, go on, Mr. Appleton. I know how
difficult it is for you; but we must get this over.


252
AT ONE-THIRTY
I want to know every detail. What did yo.
see?”
“Garret-Garret was sitting there in his chain
by the library-table; but he wasn't asleep. His .
eyes were wide open and set, staring horribly straight
into mine. He was clutching the arms of his chair,
his head was thrown back, and there was the
most awful expression of fear-fear for his life-
on his face. Everything whirled around and went
black for a minute before my eyes, and I clung
to the door-casing to keep from sinking down upon
the floor. Then, gradually, things cleared, and
I saw that great red stain on Garret's shirt front.
The lower drawer of the table was open, and his
revolver was lying on the table on the farther
side of the table from him. Then I knew that
he had been murdered.”
"How was the revolver pointing?”
"Toward him, just as the one who had fired
the shot had laid it down. It couldn't have been
suicide; for he must have died instantly. He
wouldn't have had time to reach over and place
the revolver there; and, even if he had, his-his
blood would have dripped upon the blotting-pad,
which lay on the table. If he'd shot himself, the
revolver would have still been clutched in his
hand, or dropped to the floor beside him. And
then I knew that Garret was too—too much of a
coward to have taken his own life. For just one


AT HALF-PAST FOUR IN THE MORNING
253
moment, I went crazy, I think, and I wondered
if I had done it, myself! You see, my mind was
still clouded from the effects of the cocaine and the
wine I'd been drinking the night before, and I-I
couldn't remember.”
“Then sanity returned to me, partially, at least,
and I knew I could not have done so terrible a
thing. Suddenly, I remembered our quarrel of
the night, remembered that my chauffeur alone
knew of my return to the house, and that he might
admit it to the police. I determined to buy him
off. And then the horrible thought struck me:
Suppose anyone had seen me, there in the den
with my brother, or had heard us quarreling?
If they had, and told of it, I would inevitably be
arrested on circumstantial evidence; I might per-
haps be convicted, might be electrocuted for the
murder of my brother!”
“And then the idea came to you of giving the
crime the appearance of having taken place during
a burglary, or attempted burglary?”
“Yes. I opened the window, and, taking a
heavy bronze paper-knife from the table, I bent
the hasp of the fastening to make it look as if
it had been forced. The paper-knife was all twisted
out of shape, when I'd finished; so I had to take
that away with me, too. I was afraid to leave
it there. I've waited every day since for it to be
missed, and wondered why it hadn't been; but


254
AT ONE-THIRTY
there were so many small articles like it scattered
about on the table-top, that I presume whoever
cleaned up the den after-after it was all over,
and the police had finished searching for clues,
didn't notice that it was gone. I don't suppose
any of the family has gone near that room, since.”
“What did you do after that?”
“I went back to the table, and broke the re-
volver. I found, as I expected, that one car-
tridge had been fired; so I reloaded it-I knew
where the box of cartridges was, in the same drawer
in the table, the drawer which was open. I cleaned
the revolver, too, as well as I could, with my hand-
kerchief, which I afterward burned, here in this
grate; but my hands were shaking terribly, and
I hadn't any time to lose, so I didn't make a very
thorough job of it. It was horrible, working
away like that, with the fear every moment of
being discovered! I knew that, in the ordinary
course of events, no one in the house would be
stirring for an hour and a half, or two hours longer;
but someone might, by sheer accident, come down,
and if I had been found doing what I was doing,
there would be no hope for me!”
Yates Appleton had risen, as if inaction were
a torture, and he was pacing up and down the
room, convulsively clasping and unclasping his
hands behind his back, his head sunk forward
on his chest.


256
AT ONE-THIRTY
ret's blood, and it turned me sick for a moment;
then another idea came to me. The blood was
thick, and drying in great clots, and I shut my
eyes and pressed my hands on the shirtfront,
over the wound. Then I rushed over to the win-
dow, and smeared the curtains, and the rug before
it, to make sure that attention would be directed
there. I cleaned my hands as well as I could on
the curtains, turned out the light, and, literally,
flew to my room. I did not' dare take a last look
at my poor brother-his dead eyes had seemed
to be following me about the room accusingly,
while I worked, and I was afraid that, if I glanced
at him, I should shriek aloud!”
“What did you do when you regained your
room?".
“I don't know. The reaction came, and I think
I went mad for a little while. I remember rolling
in mental agony upon my bed, stilling my groans,
forcing myself to remember that I must be silent,
must make no sound. Then, I grew a little calmer,
and realized that I had work to do. I went in
the bath-room first, and bathed carefully, then
examined my clothes minutely for any traces of
blood. There were none, or upon my hands or
body, save under my finger-nails, where a little
had dried. These I cleaned, and then cleaned
the brush thoroughly, too. Then I took the money
and valuables, made them into a tightly rolled


AT HALF-PAST FOUR IN THE MORNING
257
packet, and, for the time being, I thrust it in the
only place I knew my valet, or the housemaid,
would not find it the next day-far back on the
top of the wardrobe. It was there when you
questioned, me, in my room. Later, I sent James
down-stairs on an errand, took the packet, and
thrust it into my pocket.
“When I got here, after leaving Mother at the
Blenheim, I found my friend from whom I had
arranged to take over this apartment, waiting to
condole with me about the tragedy, and to hand
me the keys. I knew there was a safe-built on
the wall, over there just behind you—and I made
my friend give me the combination before he left.
After he had gone, I got my man, James, out of
the room on some pretext, and, opening the safe,
I put the packet in there. And what to do with it,
I don't know.”
"Mr. Appleton, didn't it occur to you to wonder
who actually did kill your brother?”
“Not until afterward. I know it seems strange;
but my brain felt numb, and all I thought of was
my own safety. When the burglary subterfuge
was so quickly discovered, and the fact that Garret
was killed with his own revolver, I felt that I was
lost, and I fought, struggled, only for my life. Later
in the day, when things quieted down a bit, I began
to think of my brother, and how he came to his
death. Mr. Gaunt, it is an utter, absolute mystery


258
AT ONE-THIRTY
to me-believe me or not, as you please. I cannot
think, cannot imagine, who could have done this
thing! There doesn't seem to be a shadow of mo-
tive. I can think of nothing else, and it is driving
me mad, mad! For God's sake, if you know, if you
suspect, tell me! I cannot endure it much longer!”
“You must be patient, Mr. Appleton. Think
of your brother's wife, of your mother! They are
enduring this suspense, too; and they are only
women.”
“But they are not carrying around with them
the secret that I am-the secret of that awful hour
early in the morning! Mr. Gaunt, you must help
me-you must! What shall I do with that packet
in the safe—with the things I took from my brother's
body? If I turn them over to the police, they will
arrest me—I know that. How can I dispose of
them?”
“If I were you, Mr. Appleton, I should wait
until the murderer is apprehended. Then, when
his guilt is proved, you can go to your mother and
your brother's wife, and tell them the truth. They
will believe you then, of course. If, on the other
hand, this mystery is never solved,” a curious
hard note had swept into the detective's voice
with the last words, “I should advise you still to
go to those two women, and tell them everything,
just as you have told me. They will, they must,
believe you in time. At any rate, for the sake of


260
AT ONE-THIRTY
now that he had unburdened himself, as he had
previously been in fear of it.
“I must. It is late, and I have work to do to-
morrow. Try a sleeping-powder, some coal-tar
product, tonight, instead of that cocaine, and see
if you can get a little real rest, or you'll be a wreck.
Re:nember, you may yet need all your nerve and
strength.”
"I will, sir,” Yates Appleton replied, with the
respectful promptitude of a school-boy addressing
the master. “Good-night, and thank you-thank
you!”


CHAPTER XVI
NATALIE
AMON GAUNT would not have been human
if he could have helped congratulating
himself the next morning on the result of
the previous evening's work. Both the shots had
told, and, although they had been the result more
of intuition, of a subtle guess, than pure reasoning,
they had proved to be true to the mark, Then,
quite suddenly his mood changed, and he felt
disgusted with himself, for his vanity.
“I'm getting to be as bad as Hanrahan," he
thought; "gloating over the little I've done, when
the work isn't half-finished. I've only succeeded
as yet in cleaning up a few minor details. The
great question remains unanswered, the real truth
unproved!”
He had scarcely finished his breakfast, when
Jenkins announced that a lady was waiting in the
library to see him. She had refused to give her
name, but said that her business was most important.
Would Mr. Gaunt please see her at once, if pos
Ta
261


NATALIE
263
since you called on me last week, I've been thinking
things over, and the more I thought, the more
I worried. I couldn't sleep at all last night, and
at dawn I determined to come to you, and tell
you all the truth. For I did not tell you every-
thing, last week, Mr. Gaunt-I could not!”
“I knew that you were not entirely frank with
me,” remarked the detective.
“You knew it? Yet you did not go to my father,
as you had threatened!” she countered.
“Because I thought I knew what you were
keeping back, and understood the reason why,”
he replied, quietly.
"I only kept silent because because it was all
past and gone, and there seemed no reason for
divulging to anyone that which had been said to
me in the most sacred confidence. As long as no
one else had known, I determined that no one
ever should. It was a disgraceful, ignoble thing;
but it came to nothing in the end, and I felt that
it should be allowed to die with the man who
had conceived it. But, after you had gone, I
remembered something, and I wondered if, after
all, I had been the only one to hear what he had
said.”
“You have come here to be frank with me,
Miss Carhart? Then, suppose you tell me the


NATALIE
265
carried things too far with Garret, until that night
in the den. As I have told you, he did not seem
to be quite-quite himself, and my fast-approach-
ing departure for Europe must have maddened
him. While I sat there on the divan, with the
curios he had brought me there to see spread out
beside me, he suddenly began to speak, in a dif-
ferent tone from any that I had ever heard from
him—a queer, thickened, hurried voice, as if he
was himself ashamed of the words he was utter-
ing.”
As she stopped again, as if unable to go on,
Gaunt leaned forward, and asked in a gentle,
but insistent, voice:
“What did he say to you, Miss Carhart? Please
tell me every word that you can remember.”
“I can't remember the words. His voice sounded
in my ears as if it came from a great distance,
and I seemed to be under a stilling cloud of horror
and loathing. I only remember the meaning of
the thing he proposed doing. It was an infamous
thing, Mr. Gaunt! It is a hideous, black thought,
which should be buried with him; but you want
to know all the truth, and you shall! He told
me that he was going to arrange a divorce, that
he might marry me! He said his wife would never
consent to free him, especially-especially now
eei
ror


270
'
AT ONE-THIRTY
She held out a little hand, which he could not
see, and then, with a pathetic shrug of her shoulders,
she dropped her arm limply to her side, and
turned to the door. At the threshold, he halted
her.
“I wish you could tell me more about that
shadow you saw, or fancied you saw, in the hall,
Miss Carhart. You say it looked like a crouching
figure. A woman's or a man's?”
“A woman's, I think,” she answered, hesitatingly.
“At least, the head appeared to be abnormally
large and irregular, as if it was a woman, with her
hair puffed out, and she seemed to have on a loose,
flowing gown of some sort; but it was all very
faint and indistinct.”
“If there was actually a woman listening there
in the hall, have you any idea in your own mind,
Miss Carhart, as to who she might have been?”
he asked gravely, coming slowly toward her.
She shrank, and, for an instant, made no reply.
Then she burst out passionately:
"Oh, don't ask me that, Mr. Gaunt! In mercy,
don't ask me! I have endured all I can! Please,
please, let me go.”
"I won't ask you, Miss Carhart. I am grate-
ful to you for having come to me as you did.
Thank you, and-good-by.”


272
AT ONE-THIRTY
m
from loss of her mber," he repy to young day, almost
and found himself listening eagerly for her reply,
not for the words themselves, but for the madden-
ing sweetness of her throbbing tones.
“Yes. She is very weak still, of course; but I
think her mind is quite clear, and she has promised
me to try to control herself. But you will be very
careful, Mr. Gaunt? You will remember that we
have only just succeeded in snatching her back
from death or what would be infinitely worse,
the loss of her reason?”
"I will remember,” he replied, gravely.
Turning, she led the way to young Mrs. Apple-
ton's room—the room where, on that day, almost
on that very hour, a week ago, he had left her with
that agonized betrayal upon her lips.
He found her, as before, bolstered up among the
soft cushions of her chaise longue, and with an eager
cry she gave him her hand.
“Oh, Mr. Gaunt! You have come, at last!
They wouldn't let me see you before, and there is
so much I must talk over with you!" Her voice
was very faint and weak; but the high-pitched,
drawling notes reminded him somehow, even more
than before, of his sister's richer, more mellow
tones, and his heart contracted suddenly within
him.
"I am glad that you are better, Mrs. Appleton,”


NATALIE
273
he replied, with grave gentleness. There was a
portentousness, almost a solemnity, in his voice
which made her gaze up quickly, fearfully, into
his face. She looked long, and what she read
there evidently decided her upon some paramount
question, which had troubled or vexed her. For
such an instant, her pale, pretty lips trembled
childishly, and her gaze wandered wistfully to the
sunlight streaming in at the window. She could,
from where she lay, just see the tops of the leaf-
less trees in the park, and the broad expanse of the
blue sky above them. Then, her trembling ceased,
and a sublime look, almost of exaltation, settled
upon her delicate little face, maturing and ennob-
ling it.
“You have come to tell me something, Mr.
Gaunt?” she asked; and he started involuntarily
at the subtle change in her voice. Weak it still
was, but trembling no longer, and in poise, in per-
fect control, it equaled her sister's. “You have
discovered who killed my husband?"
"I think so.” The gravity, the gentleness,
increased in Gaunt's tone. “Mrs. Appleton, I
have a duty to perform, and, difficult and repugnant
as my task may be, I must accomplish it. Are
you strong enough yet to bear the truth? Will
you try to be very brave?”


274
AT ONE-THIRTY
“You need not fear for me. I shall be strong-
now. Will you tell me, please, what you have
learned?”
"You have already told me, Mrs. Appleton,
that you left the drawing-room and your guests,
on the last night of your husband's life, and went
to your room, pleading indisposition, because you
could not endure witnessing the-let us say, the
open flirtation of your husband and another woman.
That is true, is it not?”
“Perfectly true.”
“At what time did you leave the others?”
“At ten o'clock. I know, because, when I
reached my room, I looked at the time to count
how long I should have to wait before-before
my sister returned. I was wretchedly lonely and
unhappy, and I wanted her.”
"You could not remain in your room, though,
could you? Perhaps you fancied your guests had
gone, and that your husband was alone in the den.
That I do not know; but I do know that you went
down nearly to the door of the den, and overheard
your husband talking to Miss Carhart. At what
time was that, Mrs. Appleton?”
“At eleven,” she returned, composedly. There
was in her voice no surprise, no shade of wonder-
ment, at his knowledge. She was as one who had


NATALIE
275
ent
thrown aside all artifice, all subterfuge; one who
stoically, fatalistically awaited an inevitable event-
uality. “As you surmised, I supposed our guests
had gone, and I went down to the den to talk to
my husband about a private matter. I knew that
otherwise I should see him no more that night,
and he was always quite unapproachable in the
morning; so I desired to have it over with, there
and then. I had almost reached the door of
the den, when I heard his voice, and I-stopped.
Do you know what I heard? He, my husband,
and the girl who was a guest beneath my
roof, were conspiring together, to sully my own
good name, that my husband might cast me
aside, dishonored, and make her his wife, in my
stead!”
“I think you wrong her,” remarked Gaunt,
quietly.
“I-wrong her?” Her voice held a note of query;
but it was a listless one.
“You heard your husband's voice, Mrs. Apple-
ton; but did you hear hers?”
“No. When I had heard all I wanted to from
Garret's own lips, I turned and fled to my
room.”
“Had you waited, you would have heard her
denounce him for his infamous plan; heard her


276
AT ONE-THIRTY
tell him how she loathed him for it, and that she
hoped never to see his face again.”
"She never will,” Mrs. Appleton observed.
Something in the cold, emotionless young voice
made Gaunt shiver, in spite of himself. It was as
if she stood beyond the pale of all things human
and sentient with life. If only she would weep,
or rage in passion against this girl, whom she
believed had meant to supplant her, he would have
understood, have known how to handle the sit-
uation. But this stony calmness, this serene de-
tachment from all things vital, was utterly un-
natural, and unique in his experience. A sudden
shock, a thrust in the dark, might arouse her,
might render her as pliant in his hands as she had
been on their last interview.
“And so," he began briskly in a louder, less
gentle voice, “when you had heard all you wanted
to, you went back to your room, waited until your
sister came home, and told her. To save you from
the threatened dishonor, she descended to the
den, and "
“You are wrong, Mr. Gaunt.” That dreadful,
toneless voice sounded unchanged by a shade upon
his ears. “You are mistaken. It was not Bar-
bara. It was I who killed him.”
"You?” he cried, in well-feigned surprise.
ICE



om s
35
"1-wrong her?” Her voice held a note of query; but it was a
listless one.


278
AT ONE-THIRTY
“But your sister corroborated you. She said
you had been.”
"She knew—the truth. She lied—for me. That
is like Barbara.”
“Well, Mrs. Appleton, what did you do after you
laid the revolver down?”
"I went back to my room, and, when Barbara
came home, I told her what I had done, and
why."
"Then it was Miss Ellerslie who went down
later and changed the appearance of the room,
to give the impression that the murder had
been committed during an attempt atburg-
lary?”
. “Yes.”
“You are perfectly sure of this?”
“Quite sure. She told me herself, afterward,
that she had done so.”
“And she has your husband's money and valu-
ables?”
“I think so. I don't know what she had done
with them."
“Your sister returned from the wedding festivi-
ties at one o'clock, and it was midnight, or after,
when you descended to the den. Therefore, it
was during that hour, between twelve and one,
that you killed your husband?"


NATALIE
279
“Yes, Mr. Gaunt. ... When-are you going
to take me away?”
“Away—where?” this time it was the detective
who was, for once, caught off his guard.
“Why, to prison.” There was for the first time
a flicker of interest in her voice. “Let me see
Barbara just once before you take me away! I
must see my sister-alone!”
"Oh, we won't talk about taking you to prison
until you are better. In fact, I won't notify In-
spector Hanrahan or the police yet, until you are
able to be moved. I'm not afraid, now that you
have confessed, that you will try to escape. If
you will give me your word, Mrs. Appleton, not
to run away, we will keep this a secret between
our two selves for a time.”
"Oh, Mr. Gaunt, how good, how very kind,
you are! Now I can have a few days longer
with my sister, can't I? I promise you-oh, I
will take any oath you please, that I will be here
ready to go with the police when they come for
to run
a ser
een
me!”
The soft, brown, sightless eyes of Damon Gaunt
grew 'even softer and misty, and there was a queer
choke in his voice as he said, very gently:
“I can trust you, Mrs. Appleton.”
She smiled faintly, and laid her little hand on


CHAPTER XVII
FAILURE AND VICTORY
AMON GAUNT lay back in his library
chair inert, exhausted mentally and spirit-
ually with the battle which he had waged
with himself and his conscience for two long hours.
Now, it was ended, the victory was won, and over
his spirit had crept the sacred peace of renuncia-
tion.
In the pale, ghastly glow from the green-shaded
lamp, his thin face seemed older than it had ever
looked before, the lines more sharply drawn, the
cheek-bones more prominent, the closed eyes more
sunken. But a smile, which was almost ethereal,
wreathed his smooth-shaven, finely chiseled lips,
and about his brow was that same expression of
serenity which had rested upon young Mrs. Apple-
ton's that afternoon, when she had so calmly con-
fessed the murder of her husband.
How long he remained motionless in his chair
before the empty hearth, Gaunt never knew. He
became aware gradually of a deferential, but
se
281


282
AT ONE-THIRTY
insistent, knocking on the locked door. With an
effort, he roused himself from his reverie, and called
wearily:
“What is it?"
“Mr. Force, sir. Says he will see you, sir-he
won't take 'no' for an answer. I told him I had
orders not to disturb you—”
“Never mind. Bring him up, Jenkins."
“Yes, sir.”
There was a long sigh of relief, audible even
through the door, and Jenkins hurried off. He had
been a worried man, had Jenkins, since his master
returned that afternoon. The door locked upon
him, Miss Barnes dismissed for the day, dinner
sent away untasted, and gruff orders issued that
he was on no account to be disturbed! This was
a new Damon Gaunt to him. The like had never
happened before in all the faithful years of his
service. He was more thankful than he could
have expressed to Mr. Force; for his advent, vol-
canic as it was, had broken the spell.
Gaunt felt for the electric button in the wall,
switched on the lights, and, striding over to the
door, unlocked it.
There was a quick, firm tread down the hall,
and Randolph Force fairly burst into the room.
“What does it mean?” he cried hoarsely, waiving


FAILURE AND VICTORY
285
bling tones. “From her? Oh, Gaunt, you don't
mean that you,”
"I mean,” interrupted Damon Gaunt, in stern
haste, “that within two hours you will hear from
me, or from her. . . . Is that a motor that I hear
below? You'd better go, Mr. Force.”
Speechlessly, the young man seized his hand,
and wrung it convulsively. Then, with an in-
articulate sob, he dashed from the room.
Gaunt Aung himself again in his chair. There
had been no purring of a motor car outside. He
had wanted to get Randolph Force out of the way
before that young man's lack of self-control led
him to commit himself in speech, in a way he
would perhaps forever regret. And, too, he must
have time to think, to reflect, to prepare himself
for the hour at hand—the hour that would be the
most difficult one of all his life.
All too soon, he heard her car approach swiftly,
and stop with a grinding of brakes at the curb,
and Jenkins was not half-way to the library door
to announce her coming, when his master called
him to ask the lady to come in.
She came slowly, and hesitated on the threshold.
“Mr. Gaunt,” her sweet, low voice was steady;
but there was a haunting sadness in its cadence,
which struck at his heart, “my sister has told


FAILURE AND VICTORY
287
:
seemed to have fallen into a reverie, to have for-
gotten her very presence, while she sat watching
his face, with all her heart in her great hazel eyes.
At length, he turned to her slowly.
“Miss Ellerslie,” he said, “I wonder if you will
let me tell you a-a fairy story?”.
“A fairy story!” She doubted the evidence of
her own ears.
“Yes. I suppose you think I have suddenly
taken leave of my senses; but, if you will listen,
I promise you will not be bored.”
"I will listen, gladly,” she replied, softly. The
significance that lay behind his quiet utterance
gave her a sudden glimmer of comprehension.
"I haven't heard a fairy story, myself, for many
years, and I don't remember that I ever told one
before; so you must bear with me, if, sometimes,
I get partly out of the picture. . . . My story
is about two beautiful Princesses, sisters. One
was tiny and fair, with golden hair, like most of
the Princesses in fairy tales. The other was tall
and stately, with auburn tresses—at least I think
so; for of course I have never seen them.”
He paused, and from the girl beside him came
a soft murmur.
“The fair Princess was wedded to an Ogre, and,
together with her sister, lived in his castle, in a
m


FAILURE AND VICTORY
289
by foul means, the casket of ivory and gold. The
fair Princess supposed they were conspiring together
to rob her of her treasure, and she fled back to
her chamber. Had she waited, she would have
heard the foolish Princess repudiate him, and vow
never to look upon his face again. That is the
sad part of the story—that she didn't wait.
“Now, it is a curious, but very important, fact
that in those days—we will call them the Middle
Ages; that might mean any time, for when human
beings call their year A.D. 3824, we shall belong to
the Middle Ages-well, in those days they had
clocks, just as we do. It doesn't seem likely,
but it's true.
“The fair Princess sat in her turret chamber,
until she saw the foolish Princess and her father
ride away from the castle. Then she went down
immediately to the dungeon, and told the Ogre
what she had overheard. Now, when she entered
the dungeon, it was just half-past eleven, by the
great, jeweled clock in the hall of the castle. It
must have been; for that was the hour on which
the foolish Princess and her father departed, and
the golden-haired one had descended at once.
"The Ogre grew great with wrath, and defied her,
and, weeping she retired to her turret chamber.
She did not know that she had left a strand of her


290
AT ONE-THIRTY
golden hair, clinging to a swinging chandelier in
the dungeon.
“When her sister returned from the wedding
festivities, at one o'clock, the golden-haired one
told her of the plot to rob her of her casket of
ivory and gold. And the auburn-haired Princess
knew there was but one way to save it, and to
avenge the creation of the plot against it; so she
descended to the dungeon, and slew the Ogre.”
Damon Gaunt paused, and the woman beside
him gave a little, shuddering moan, and her hands
clenched and unclenched on the arm of her chair.
After a moment, he continued, as if he had not
heard.
"Hours after the Ogre had been slain, someone
entered the dungeon, and tried to change its
aspect so that it would appear that a robber band
had broken into the castle, and slain the Ogre for
his personal treasure. This personage took the
treasure away with him, to make the robbers'
attempt seem more real; although he did not want
it, and knew not what to do with it.
“Now, when it became known throughout the
kingdom that the Ogre was dead, there was great
excitement; for, although he had not been liked,
or even respected, he had possessed two idols,
which in those days were considered very pre-
asu


FAILURE AND VICTORY
293
much rice had been cast at the bride, and some
of it had lodged in the robe of the Auburn-haired
One. When she slew the Ogre, three grains of
rice fell from her mantle."
The woman beside him caught her breath sharply,
and Gaunt rose and went to his desk. He picked
up an envelope from it, and, returning, opened it
carefully. Then, he took her unresisting hand
in his, turned it over, and shook out upon her palm
three grains of rice—the three tiny, hard globules,
like irregular pearls, which he had picked up from
the floor of the den, where they had lain at the
feet of the murdered man. Gaunt did not seat
himself again, but, standing before her, he con-
cluded:
“There isn't much more to the story. Of
course, if the Gnome had seen the three grains
of rice, it might have had a different ending; but
he didn't, you see, because he was blind. So,
he went back to his mountain, and no one ever
knew who had slain the Ogre.”
"He didn't see them!” Barbara Ellerslie cried,
with amazement and suddenly awakened hope
lifting the music of her voice into a pæan of half-
incredulous joy.
“No. You must remember, he was blind. And
so—he failed.”
con-


294
AT ONE-THIRTY
"He-failed!” she repeated, gaspingly. “He-
failed!”
Then, quite suddenly, she burst into a storm of
weeping, burying her face in her arms, while the
tears streamed down her face, and great, tearing
sobs racked her body. Knowing this sudden storm
to be but the reaction from a week of unspeakable
horror and nerve-racking suspense, ending in black-
est despair, he wisely let her have her cry out.
It was only when her sobs had subsided to quiver-
ing sighs that he spoke, half-tenderly half-jocu-
larly:
, “By Jove! I believe that's the only fairy story
on record in which a Fairy Prince isn't mentioned!
And that only because I forgot to mention him.
He's sailing away next week, and he expects to
take both the Princesses with him. But I believe
one is to go as his wife. ... Don't you think
you'd better call him up? Of course, I've no way
of knowing; but I rather think he's expecting a
message from you tonight.”
“Oh, I'll go straight home, and send for him to
come to me! I don't care how late it is, or what
the servants will think! Oh, Mr. Gaunt!” Her
rich voice thrilled and deepened as she spoke.
“What can I say to you? How can I ever thank
you?”


296
AT ONE-THIRTY
His hand fell, there was a swirl of silken skirts,
and the soft thud of a closing door.
Damon Gaunt stood for a moment where she
had left him, his upraised face transfigured. Then,
he bowed his head, and pressed his sightless eyes
upon his hand, where it was wet with her tears. ;


298
AT ONE-THIRTY
“Ah, give it to me,” Gaunt cried, eagerly. He
took from her the large sheets of paper, covered
with a peculiar arrangement of raised characters,
and, spreading it out on the table before him, ran
his fingers lightly over it.
“My dear Mr. Gaunt: My husband and I have
often desired to write you; but we wished to have
none but you know the contents of our letter.
At last we have found this simple machine, and,
by real good luck, at about the same time we
saw in a newspaper, sent to us from America, by
Harmon Witherspoon, an account of several articles
on crime, which you had written for a current
magazine. The account stated that you had writ-
ten them, yourself, on this same make of type-
writer which we have found out here. Randolph
purchased one, at once, and I have been learning
this system, that we may keep in touch with the
best friend we have on earth.
“My sister is still with us. Her little son, born
a year and a half ago, lived only a few hours; but
she has become reconciled even to that loss. She
is well and quietly happy. You may be interested
in knowing that Harmon Witherspoon starts for
Russia in two months. He began writing to
Natalie six months after we left America. At
first, she took no interest, and I was forced to reply


AFTERMATH
299
to his letters; but later she took up her own corre-
spondence, and when he offered to come out,
she did not forbid it. We think that possibly
there may be something left in life for her, after
all.
"There is something which my husband thinks
should be told you—I think you know it already.
An hour before we sailed from America, a package
came to me with a typewritten, unsigned com-
munication, telling me that, if I valued my future
happiness and that of all the family, I would drop
the package quietly overboard in mid-ocean. It
was rather large and heavy; indeed, most of the
space seemed to be taken up by a weight or stone.
Through the sacking which covered it, I could feel
several small, hard articles and something be-
sides—something that felt like a leather bill-
case. I obeyed the instructions on the typewritten
card accompanying it; so the incident is closed.
I ask no questions; I merely state this as a curious
adventure.
“Will you let us hear from you? We will wait
anxiously for your letter.
“I have left my greatest news until the last.
There is another member of the family now-a
very small member, and his name is Damon Gaunt
Force. Some day, when he can understand, he must


300
AT ONE-THIRTY
be told a little of what his father and mother owe
to the greatest-hearted man living.
"With gratitude and sincere affection,
“BARBARA ELLERSLIE-FORCE."
Gaunt crushed the letter between his hands,
and bowed his head upon it, for a moment. It
seemed that he could hear her voice, with its sweet,
faintly husky drawl. He could feel again, the
touch of her lips upon his hand. ....
“Dear God!”
Steps sounded along the hall. There was a
sharp rap upon the door, and Jenkins, his voice
beaming, announced:
"Inspector Hanrahan, Mr. Gaunt."
Gaunt raised his head slowly, and passed his
hand across his brow, as if dazed. Then he said:
“My old friend, Hanrahan—what on earth can
he want? Well, show him up, Jenkins.”
The faithful man-servant departed, chuckling.
Ever since Gaunt had given up his life-work, Jen-
kins had been sorely worried and depressed. Could
this visit of the Inspector mean a return to the
activities that had made his master famous on two
continents ?
“How do you do, Mr. Gaunt, sir?”
“How do you do, Inspector? What brings you
here, this beautiful morning?”


302
AT ONE-THIRTY
the one who did it, to let it go as a suicide, which
someone of the family had discovered, and changed
the room to make it look as if robbery had been
the motive, so as to save the family name. Well,
upon my soul, I believe that is the true solution.
Funny thing those valuables were never found,
isn't it?
“Yes, it does seem strange,” Gaunt admitted.
“Well, anyway, you should not have taken it
so much to heart. There ain't a man can touch
you in the business, today, Mr. Gaunt. Come
on down with me to Long Island-do!”
"Sorry, Inspector—this is final. I'll never take
another case.”
“Well, I don't see why you feel so bad about
it. I know you're cleverer than the rest of us,
and I suppose you think that, if you hadn't been
blind, you could have solved it-you would have
seen something that we missed. You're too touchy
about it, that's all. Look at the wonderful work
you have done in the past! If it's just because
you can't see that you won't take another case"
Gaunt turned upon him with a swift gesture for
silence, and there was a harsh note of agony in his
voice, as he cried:
“Oh, no, Inspector; I see—too much!”
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