HUNDREDIH ACRE
by JOHN CAMDEN


. 214 27.8
Harvard College Library
VARDI
MIAE H
RISTO
ECCLES
C.SI
1 UMA
CHR
IN NOR
09
ONY.10
BEQUEST OF
WILLIAM McMICHAEL WOODWORTH
(Class of 1888)
KEEP'ER OF THE MUSEUM OF COMPARATIVE
ZOOLOGY, 1899-1904.








THE HUNDREDTH ACRE









HE LOOKED LIKE A MAN WHO HAD FALLEN ASLEEP.


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都是外帶都影響
​The Hundredth Acre
By John Camden
Herbert B. Turner & Co.
Boston, 1905


214 29.8
.
HARVARD COLLEQE LIBRARY
BEQUEST OF
WILLIAM McMICHAEL WOODWORTH
FEB. 18, 1915.
Copyright 1905
BY HERBERT B. TURNER & Co.
Entered at Stationers' Hall
London
Published May 1905
George French, Boston


CONTENTS
PAGE
.
...
118
.
145
CHAPTER
1. The House on the Rue Fontaine St. Georges 9
II. The Mute Witness . . . . . . 23
III. Lady Serena . . . . . . . . 35
IV. The Woman in the Case . . . . . 50
V. The Ex-Housekeeper . . . . . . 62
VI. The Will . . . . . . . .
VII. On the Boat . . . . . . . . . 91
VIII. The Woman with the Red Hat . . . 104
IX. Searching for Clews . . . . . . .
X. No. 24 Rue Taitbout . . . .
130
XI. Andrew Schenck . . . . . . .
XII. Anice . . . . . . . . . . .
158
XIII. The Secret Stair . . .
174
XIV. A Cablegram . . . . . . . . .
187
XV. A Morning Walk . . . . . . . . 203
XVI. An Interesting Meeting . . . . . . 215
XVII. The Tunnel . . . . . . . . . 230
XVIII. A Managing Aunt ....... 244
XIX. The Offers to Compromise...
XX. An Agreement . . . . . . . . 269
XXI. A Startling Revelation . . . . . . 285
XXII. Portman's Witness . . . . . . . 297
XXIII. Mother and Son . . . . . . . . 312
:::::
.
........
257
.
...
X
..





THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
CHAPTER I
THE HOUSE ON THE RUE FONTAINE ST. GEORGES
It was a bitter night in February — the
sixth of the month — and it began to sleet
as I turned the corner of the church of
Notre Dame de Lorette and looking north,
along the street of that name, saw the lights
of the Place St. Georges casting long, shim-
mering reflections on the wet pavements
and blinking in the wind. Lights shone,
too, here and there, behind close drawn
blinds and in low doorways, but, for the
most part, the streets were dark, cold and
almost deserted. The few people afoot
hurried homeward and only an occasional
vehicle passed in that direction.
I was making my way in the teeth of the
wind toward Dr. Lloyd's lodgings. I had
not seen him for months, but no sooner had
I arrived in Paris than I received a sum-
mons to come and sup with him. Lloyd
was one of the richest and most eccentric


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
men I knew. He could live like a prince
anywhere and he chose to wander over the
world and settle at last in an obscure cor-
ner of Paris, where he could pursue his re-
searches in history, art and science and
collect rare old books and curiosities. He
had not married and at seventy-seven was
without any close ties. He had two nieces,
one of whom had married an Englishman,
Lord Bentinck, in spite of Lloyd's oppo-
sition, and the other, a young girl, was
living near Boston. There was also a
nephew, Andrew Schenck, a worthless
young scapegrace, who hoped to inherit his
uncle's enormous fortune and was there-
fore spending his own on horses and drink.
I had known Lloyd all my life and was
junior counsel for him in his famous law-
suit with old Hez Portman. I thought it
not unlikely therefore that his summons
meant some new commission for me.
As I reached the corner of the rue Fon-
taine St. Georges I could see his lodgings
across the way. He had the little house,
four doors below the corner, with the over-
hanging turret and the iron grate at the
entrance. The place had taken his fancy
because it was an antique in modern Paris,
10


THE RUE FONTAINE ST. GEORGES
a bit of architecture of the time of Francis
First and full of fanciful associations. A
street light placed directly opposite shone
full on the low front of the house and
showed the fluted pillars on either side of
the door. The entire front was of softly
colored gray stone and there was a turret
on the corner toward the rue de St. Lazare
and the narrow arrow-shaped windows
showed light within. I knew that Lloyd's
welcome was always warm to those whom
he really called his friends and that he was
sure to have a fine supper and some fine
old wine, and the thought of good cheer on
such a night hastened my steps. I crossed
the street and rang the bell with such good
will that I heard the shuffling steps of the
concierge within before its reverberations
ceased. The old man — a withered and
bowed little Frenchman — opened the door
and ushered me into a room which had
served in the old days for the porter.
Here he helped me off with my storm coat
with a graciousness that was partly de-
rived from his natural affability and partly
from donations of francs and half francs
on the occasions of my previous visits.
The place was scantily furnished; a high-
11


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
backed chair stood by the window where I
had often seen old Cartouche nodding in
the sunshine. There was a table with a
lamp and a copy of the “ Figaro” spread
out under it. No one could leave the house
by the front door without traversing this
room, and the other door, into the hall,
commanded an unobstructed view of the
narrow stairs which ascended to the doc-
tor's quarters above. As I went out into
the hall I saw his tall lean figure outlined
against the light at the head of this stair-
case.
“So you got my note in time, Brinton?”
he said, “I particularly wanted to see you
tonight for I heard you were on your way
home.”
"So I am," I replied, shaking hands as
I reached the landing, “ but I had no
thought of going without seeking you."
“ But not tonight,” he said, leading the
way to his study.
I laughed a little, experiencing a pleas-
ant sensation of comfort and luxury at the
sight of the familiar bookcases, the cheer-
ful soft coal fire in the grate, the shaded
lamp, the fur rugs, the easy chairs, the
soft, heavy curtains. I had always thought
12


THE RUE FONTAINE ST. GEORGES
Lloyd's rooms the perfection of comfort,
in the strangest surroundings, for the
house had scarcely a modern appliance and
showed everywhere its relations to ancient
times.
" It all looks the same," I remarked,
" and it is delightful. When I am rich I
want just such a room to tempt a poor devil
to come through the sleet for the pleasure
of being made envious."
“ It's a bad night, I know,” he admitted
smiling, “ but I wanted you."
" Why tonight?” I asked, sinking into a
chair; ". the better the day, the better the
deed,' is the saying, and if the deed is as
bad as the night -" I shrugged my
shoulders.
" True,” he responded, pouring out a
little glass of cordial and handing it to
me,“ yet an opportunity lost comes not
again. We must plan for the day; who
knows what the morrow will bring?”
“More money for you," I replied; “I
see by the home papers that those mines
of yours are turning out record breakers.
Do you remember old Widow Haskins?
Who used to say —' them that has gets !'"
“ It's true, in a way,” he remarked,
13


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
“ sometimes I tire of it; money makes
money. I'm sick of it.”
• Teach me the trick," I said, “ I've had
no chance to weary of it; I don't think I
should.”
“ Nor did I, at your age,” he replied,
with a grim smile.
He was standing on the hearthrug look-
ing down at the fire and the glow from it
somewhat softened the harsh lines of his
strong keen face. I can recall him today
as he stood there and remember with great
distinctness the quaint ungraceful lines of
his spare figure, bowed a little at the
shoulders like a man who had stooped over
his books, his narrow gray head with the
high arched forehead, his hooked nose and
keen twinkling gray eyes — set well back
under shaggy brows. He looked up and
caught my gaze fixed upon him.
“ Well, Brinton?” he said, with a smile.
“I was thinking that I never saw you
look better," I remarked; “ money getting
is conducive to health and happiness; I
always said so."
“On the contrary, it is a nuisance," he
retorted, with some bitterness; " it makes
you the victim of your relatives; they are
14


THE RUE FONTAINE ST. GEORGES
always waiting for the crumbs that fall
from the rich man's table, but they are not
contented with the crumbs, they want the
whole pudding.”
“ Naturally," I replied, laughing, “ so
should I. There is nothing harder than to
accept crumbs. But I thought you had
cast these things — relatives especially —
behind you."
i“ Precisely, but relatives — like the poor
- are always with you. It was of one
that I wanted to speak to you," he added,
“ but we will eat first for I see that Marie
has sent up the supper.”
As he spoke an old Frenchwoman, in a
neat black dress and white cap and apron,
pushed aside the portière into his dining
room and courtesied as she announced din-
ner. The table was spread for two in an
octagon-shaped room which was complete-
ly lined with low bookcases containing
some of his rarest volumes. The meal was
a triumph of French cooking for old Marie
was as famous as any chef in Paris, and in
spite of " his lean and hungry air," Lloyd
was something of an epicure. He seemed
in unusually good spirits and talked a great
deal, telling me of his historical researches
15


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
and of his great luck in acquiring some
rare old books and furniture at a sale of
some great but impoverished family's
household effects.
“ There's a cabinet yonder,” he said,
pointing to his study,“ that I want to show
you, Brinton. It's a bit of sixteenth cen-
tury Italian work in iron, and it's magnifi-
cent. You know these elaborate cabinets
- armoires artistiques — were not intro-
duced until about the time of the Renais-
sance and then they came from Germany,
but the French and Italian workers were
quick to imitate and some of the most beau-
tiful examples that we have are Italian.”
“ You mean the famous cabinets with
secret drawers," I said, “ that always
figure in romance?”.
“ Precisely," replied Lloyd, with his
grim smile; "there are several secret
drawers in this one. I paid something like
two hundred dollars for it and I wouldn't
part with it for twice that sum.”
“I didn't know you cared so much for
old furniture," I remarked.
“ Sometimes I do,” he replied, rising –
for we had just finished dinner —“ I will
show it to you now," he added, leading the
16


THE RUE FONTAINE ST. GEORGES
way back to his study after handing me one
of his choicest cigars.
The cabinet, a really beautiful and
quaint piece of furniture stood in the cor-
ner, immediately in front of a soft red cur-
tain which draped the alcove beyond the
window.
“ It is damaskeened iron inlaid with gold
and silver,” Lloyd said, touching it with
the affectionate hand of the connoisseur,
“ and the bas-relief here is exceedingly
beautiful. I am an admirer of the old iron
work;" he added;" to me the perfection to
which it was carried in the tenth and
twelfth centuries is remarkable. Here,
too, is one of your secret locks. Put your
finger here, beside this head of St. Francis,
and press that tiny silver bar — so!”
I had followed his instructions and a
secret drawer sprang out of the side of the
cabinet. In it lay a sealed packet. I
laughed.
" Behold the document!" I said.
“I inadvertently opened the wrong
drawer," he replied, “ but after all I in-
tended to tell you of the whole matter.
Don't you recognize that packet?”
I looked at it more closely. “ Assured-
17


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
ly," I replied, “ it's the will I drew for you
a year ago.”
* I put it there yesterday," he said;" it
was in my safe on the rue Scribe, but I in-
tended to change it."
“ And you have changed your mind in-
stead?”
He closed the drawer and sitting down,
motioned me to a seat on the opposite side
of the fire.
“ I will tell you," he said, “ for I want
you to go to see my niece."
“ Lady Serena?” I inquired, smiling; I
knew how hotly he and Serena had quar-
relled.
He shook his head. "No, Anice Hol-
land. I haven't seen her since she was
eleven. But since Serena has married an
English lord, who wants my money, and
Andrew has gone to the devil, I begin to
think of Anice. She's been brought up by
her father's sister, Mrs. Erckmann, and
they have been writing me about her.
They want her to come to Paris to study
and I want some idea of her before I send
her the means to come over here and tor-
ment me. Can you manage to see her?
leat
рес
inte
ters
of 1
mer
end
18


THE RUE FONTAINE ST. GEORGES
I'll give you her address; she lives with
her aunt.”
“I can go — of course," I said, with a
little hesitation; I did not care to report on
the poor girl.
But he took me at my word and scribbled
her address on a card which I put mechan-
ically in my address book while he con-
tinued his conversation.
“ You know at my death, after my scien-
tific bequests, she is to have half my for-
tune and Serena the other half; I shall not
leave Andrew Schenck one cent."
“I know," I replied, “ but I rather ex-
pected you to relent.”
“I did," he said; “ I took that will out
intending to destroy it but I have had let-
ters from home and I shall let it stand. I
shall put it back in the safe tomorrow."
I was not at loss to imagine the contents
of his letters from home but I made no com-
ment and after a moment he continued.
“ Andrew has been behaving like the
devil,” he said grimly;" I shall send him a
check to keep him out of jail but there's the
end of it. Sometimes I can't believe the
young scapegrace is my own kith and kin;
19


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
he's a low, drinking, swearing, gambling
ruffian and his last dido is beyond my for-
bearance.”
As he spoke, Dr. Lloyd rose and opening
an upper door in his cabinet drew out a
slender bottle of golden wine and two
quaint long-stemmed glasses.
“ It's Chateau Yquem,” he said, “ and
the finest; I want you to taste it, Brinton,"
and he filled the glasses and set the bottle
beside him on the table. “No, I shall not
forgive Schenck," he continued, in reply
to a humorous suggestion of mine as I took
up my glass;“ I have never had any toler-
ation for vulgarity, for pot-house dissipa-
tion. Andrew isn't as much of a gentle-
man as old Cartouche.”
“ Cartouche is unique," I replied, “ and
like your wine improves with age. After
all, Lloyd, I can't help pitying the young
rogue. You brought him up to luxury and
adrift he'll go to the devil at a terrible rate.
Can't you make some provision?”
Lloyd's strong, lean face darkened, the
shaggy brows dropped over the small
twinkling eyes, he struck the table with his
clenched hand.
“No!” he thundered, “ I'll support no
20


THE RUE FONTAINE ST. GEORGES
rogues. I tell you, Brinton, I'm done with
him, I'm done. He'll learn what it is to
work for his bread and it will do him good.
I'd rather give all to Serena and let the
Englishman spend it.”
“He may be a hard case, too,” I sug-
gested.
« Lord Bentinck is a pretty decent fel-
low, I've inquired,” he replied, “ and
Serena was always my favorite. I'm
thinking of running over to see her.”
“ You're a changed man, Dr. Lloyd,” I
said, rising; “ the skies will fall.”
“ Have another glass,” he suggested,
“ there's no hurry; it's early yet, not half
past eleven.”
I declined but he filled his own glass;
then, as I insisted upon going, he left it
untouched on the table and went with me
to the head of the stairs.
“ Don't forget Anice Holland," he said,
and then added with a shrug, “ my rela-
tives are all sitting around waiting for me
to die, I don't know why I should consider
them.”
“ They'll wait some time," I retorted,
“ you look good for another sixty years."
“I'm getting on," he retorted, “ but I'll
21


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
confess that I feel unusually fit. Come
in tomorrow to dinner."
“ I can't, I'm engaged with Lavaur.”
• Is that fellow still here?” asked
Lloyd, with interest, “ bring him around;
he's a crank, of course, but he's got brain."
" I'd like him to hear you say that," I
laughed back; “ au révoir.”
Lloyd waved his hand and retreated into
his study. Old Cartouche helped me into
my coat and opened the outer door. The
storm had abated and the moon was strug-
gling to look through scudding clouds.
"We shall have a fine day tomorrow,
Cartouche," I remarked, as I passed out.
" Eh bien, monsieur, for those on whom
the sun shines !” he said, with a shiver.
“ To be sure," I replied, “ but there is
a consolation, it shines on the just and the
unjust."
" Monsieur speaks truth,” replied the
concierge, closing the grate behind me and
looking out, his wrinkled face illumined by
the lantern across the street; “ but I am
old, and it rises not so often on the old -
except out at Père la Chaise," and with
this cheerful reflection he closed and bolted
the door.
22


CHAPTER II
THE MUTE WITNESS
I was at breakfast in the café of my hotel
when Lavaur came in. He had been a
chum of mine at Yale and was one of the
best fellows in the world though, as Dr.
Lloyd said, something of a crank. His
father had been a French professor at Yale
and his mother a rich New Haven girl.
Gilette Lavaur was a strange combination
of French vivacity and American shrewd-
ness and common sense. The possessor of
inherited wealth, he had chosen no par-
ticular profession though he was a past
master of chemistry and a really good
physician, but his taste for painting had
crossed his taste for more practical things
and he spent much time in the Latin Quar-
ter leading a Bohemian life. When I saw
him enter the café, looking right and left
for me, I recalled Lloyd's half contempt-
nous estimate of him with amusement.
Lavaur heartily disliked Lloyd while he
acknowledged his brilliant qualities; the
23


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
truth was that the two men were too much
alike in their singularities to care for each
other. At this point in my reflections,
Lavaur discovered me and signalled a
greeting over the intervening tables, mak-
ing his way to my place.
" Come and breakfast with me," I sug-
gested, as he took the chair opposite.
“ Breakfast!” he replied, with a shrug,
“I never breakfast. I had coffee in bed
and I shall lunch at one. I roused myself
at a beastly hour this morning to get over
here and catch you. I want you to take
the day off with me. Come over to my shop
and meet some fellows from home; there
are two here now from New Haven and
three from New York. We can put in a
day in the Quarter which will do you no
end of good.”
I shook my head at this alluring picture.
“ Can't do it," I replied, “ I have two
or three business matters here and I must
see Lloyd again. By the way, Lavaur, Dr.
Lloyd wants you to come over with me to
his house on the rue Fontaine St.
Georges."
Lavaur grunted.
" That old crank?” he remarked, “ that
24


THE MUTE WITNESS
reminds me though;" he began to fumble
in his pocket and pulled out a much read
newspaper that had the familiar home
headlines, “ you know his nephew Andrew
Schenck ?”
" Very much so," I replied, smiling
while I stirred my coffee,“ what of him?"
Lavaur grinned sardonically and pushed
the sheet toward me.
“ That's the same Schenck you and I
met in Rome three years ago,” he said;
“ don't you remember how tipsy he was?
How that old stick, his uncle, must adore
him!”
As I expected, the paragraph gave me
the key to Dr. Lloyd's anger. It appeared
that Schenck had been secretly married to
the daughter of Lloyd's former house-
keeper and it had only come out because
Schenck had deserted the girl and ceased
to contribute to her support. The news-
paper gave a long and glaring account of
her suit for divorce which had been granted
and alimony demanded. This was, of
course, the matter which required the
uncle's check to save the nephew from yet
deeper embarrassments, and this was the
very thing that would be most offensive
25


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
to Lloyd, involving — as it did — a delib-
erate attempt to deceive him for the pur-
pose of retaining a hold upon his money.
Knowing both, I could not suppress a low
whistle of surprise and dismay.
“ Well, he's done it this time!" I re-
marked.
" And lost a fortune, I suppose," said
Lavaur, with a chuckle, “ though Lloyd
looked good for a hundred years when I
saw him last. Poor Lady Bentinck will
be old and fat before she sees a cent of that
inheritance."
“I should like to have her hear you
suggest age and flesh,” I said, with some
malice.
“Oh, I know Serena," he replied, and
laughed.
As he spoke an attendant stepped softly
to my side.
" A person wishes to speak to monsieur
at once,” he murmured; “ he is in the
lobby."
Something in the man's manner aroused
my curiosity and having just finished my
breakfast, I suggested to Lavaur that he
should go with me to the office where we
might arrange about a possible meeting
26


THE MUTE WITNESS
before dinner. Lavaur, who had the ciga-
rette habit to an odious degree, pulled one
out of his pocket and lighted it as we saun-
tered into the hall. There were only two
or three people in the lobby and I saw at
once a queer little bowed figure in black.
It was old Cartouche, standing just inside
the door, holding his hat in his hand and
gazing about him with quite an apparent
nervous agitation. Doubtless he brought
some message from his master.
“It's Lloyd's man,” I said to my com-
panion,“ come to remind me to bring you
to the house on the rue Fontaine St.
Georges.”
“ Excuse me, pray,” said Lavaur, with
a laugh and fell back while I went on alone
to meet the old concierge.
" What is it, Cartouche?” I asked, care-
lessly, “ the doctor is well, I hope?"
The old man stared at me strangely; his
lips shook, he twisted his cap in his thin
clawlike fingers.
“M'sieur is mistaken,” he said hoarsely,
" M. le Docteur died last night.”
“ Died?” I repeated, aghast,“ you rave,
man!”
“Pardon, m'sieur,” he murmured,
27


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
apologetically, “ it is true — he is dead."
I uttered a sharp exclamation of dismay
and Lavaur, hearing it and seeing our
faces, approached.
“ Hear this, Gilette!" I cried in a low
voice, suppressing my excitement, “ Dr.
Lloyd is dead — this man says he died last
night. It is impossible! Why, Cartouche,
I never saw him look better."
" C'est vrai, m'sieur,” he replied, look-
ing down, “ yet I found him dead in his
chair — just where he had been sitting with
m'sieur — and he was cold at six this morn-
ing — cold and stiff.”
“Good heavens, I can't understand it!”
I cried, looking at Lavaur.
But beyond a little surprise, he showed
no emotion, placidly smoking his cigarette
and gazing intently at Cartouche.
“ Was it a stroke, or the heart?” he
asked the concierge, mildly interested.
“ Mais, non, m'sieur, I do not know," he
replied, with a shrug, “ the doctors do not
say. M. le Maire is there and the gend-
armes and two surgeons.”
“Do they suspect foul play?" I asked
anxiously.
Lavaur smiled. “It's the regular thing
28


THE MUTE WITNESS
r.
in the case of sudden death, Brinton,” he
explained, " it's like our coroner. I sus-
pect the old gentleman's heart gave out."
Lavaur spoke in English and Cartouche
did not understand but stood looking ear-
nestly at me.
" You will come, m'sieur?” he de-
manded.
" Of course, I'll come," I replied, and
then to Lavaur, “ come, old chap, I'll be
glad of a friend who knows Paris and Paris
ways."
He hesitated a moment and then as-
sented. Cartouche called a cab and Lavaur
and I got in, the concierge mounting the
box beside the driver, and we were off at
a brisk pace. My companion leaned back
in the corner, smoking with half closed
eyes and in apparent indifference, but I
could not imitate his unconcern. My own
mind was busy with the problem of this
sudden death. Lloyd's tall, stoop-should-
ered figure, his lean, shrewd face, his
twinkling eyes, rose before me to repudiate
death. Then I remembered the incident of
the secret drawer and reflected that I
should have to get that will out and see
that it was probated at the proper time.
29


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
The singular chance that had turned
Lloyd's intentions at the last moment, his
speech with me on the subject on the very
night — as it had proved — of his death,
recurred to me with such force that I told
the whole circumstance to Lavaur and
asked him the usual course in Paris.
“ The juge de paix will affix his seals to
all the papers and effects — unless you re-
gard yourself as an heir,” replied Lavaur,
with a grin.
“ Heaven forbid !” I exclaimed devoutly;
" there is enough of a complication al-
ready."
“ Precisely so," he said, " therefore you
will hand the will to the juge de paix who
will, in turn, deliver it to the president of
the tribunal who, in his turn, deposits it
with a notary public. Having executed
this simple process with the usual amount
of red tape, they will keep you cooling your
heels until they are entirely satisfied that
all the French laws in regard to wills of
aliens — and they are rigid — have been
complied with, and all the fees paid. My
dear Brinton, I'm really sorry for you,"
and he laughed; “ ah, here we are," he
30


THE MUTE WITNESS
hand. It was then that I recalled the fact
that he had filled it as I rose to go and had
evidently returned to drink the wine for
there were only a few drops in the bottom
of the glass. Lavaur took it up and hold-
ing it against the light looked at it closely.
" This is a curious glass,” he said ab-
sently,“ a very curious glass.”
“ Yes," I assented, “ it is one that Lloyd
bought in a curiosity shop on the Quai Vol-
taire."
Then I remembered the packet in the
secret drawer and turned to the Maire, a
courteous, gray, little Frenchman with
pointed moustaches. I explained briefly
the statement that Lloyd had made to me
on the previous evening and, with the offi-
cial's consent, I opened the secret drawer
and found the will sealed and secure.
Making sure that it was the document, I
handed it to him and was told that the seals
were to be affixed to all the dead man's ef-
fects before the body was removed for a
post-mortem examination.
Meanwhile, Lavaur and the physician
were bending over Lloyd examining him
with a new and intent interest, and I saw
that my friend had a magnifying glass in
33


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
his hand as well as the wine-glass. But my
attention was diverted by the arrival of
the juge de paix and another surgeon who
was to assist at the post-mortem. The lit-
tle room was becoming crowded and the
tragedy oppressed me; I turned away to
the window.
Then Lavaur touched my arm.
“My dear fellow," he said, in a low
voice,“ there is poison in the wine-glass."
34


CHAPTER III
LADY SERENA
I found it difficult to believe Lavaur's
statement that there was poison in Lloyd's
wine-glass. I scouted the idea.
“My dear Gilette,” I said, “ you dream.
I drank that same wine myself and I never
felt better in my life.”
“ Precisely," he replied; “ that is one
reason for the suicide theory. There is
undoubtedly poison in his glass, there could
have been none in yours. We shall pres-
ently analyze what remains in the bottle
and see if the drug is there, or only in
Lloyd's glass. There is no doubt about it,
Jack, I discovered the drug at once, and
M. Verney, the physician, agrees with me.
You need not look so skeptical. The post-
mortem will convince you, however. Be-
sides, I have found some grains of the pow-
der spilled upon the table; you can see it
yourself — the trail of the serpent, we
might say."
It was hard for me to be convinced, but
35


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
I saw that Lavaur was thoroughly in ear-
nest and I knew his cleverness as a chemist;
he had pre-eminently the gift for such re-
searches. It put a new and terrible face
on the whole affair and one that was wholly
confusing, but there was one thing that I
could not believe.
“ He never committed suicide," I de-
clared; “I knew the man- it wasn't in
him to do it. And if it wasn't suicide-"
Lavaur laid his hand heavily on my
shoulder.
“ Tonnerre!” he said, “ we will call it
suicide - do you not see?"
“Yes, I see that poor old Marie and
Cartouche will be suspected," I replied,
“ of course, I see, Gilette. Therefore this
discovery of yours strikes me as being por-
tentous. I do not attempt to dispute your
conclusions; you say it is poison — that
the drug is in the glass; I accept the state-
ment, but who — in heaven's name — put
it there?”
"The simplest and the safest theory is
that he put it there himself,” retorted La-
vaur dryly.
I looked up and our eyes met squarely.
36


LADY SERENA
“ I do not believe that for a moment," I
said firmly.
He shrugged his shoulders.
“ Neither do 1,” he replied, “ for more
than one reason — but it's an ugly matter
and there must be a theory in this case and
that seems the most harmless --"
“Nonsense!” I interrupted, with indig-
nation;“ Lloyd was one of the sanest men
I knew, with no more reason to kill himself
than I have. He looks as if he had fallen
peacefully asleep. These French officials
must be idiots to fancy such a thing."
“ They are frequently," he assented
genially, but, all the while his steady eye
maintained its gravity; “ all the same, I
think, Brinton, we will call it suicide.”
“We will call it no such thing!” I re-
torted testily; " what do you mean,
Gilette?"
He laughed a little bitterly. “My dear
fellow,” he began, but we were interrupted
by the Maire, M. Radot.
He had gone below stairs a few moments
before and now returned.
“ Monsieur,” he said, addressing me,
" there is a lady at the door who desires
37


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
admittance, declaring that she is M. le Doc-
teur's niece. She is also in great distress
and excitement over this sad event. Do
you know her?".
And he handed me a card which I read
in some astonishment.
“ Lavaur," I exclaimed, “it is Lady
Bentinck!”
Something akin to a smile flashed into
Lavaur's eyes but he made a wry face.
“It's a bad time for women and hys-
teria,” he commented grimly; “ however,
you will be the one to see her — you know
her best."
“Oh, yes, I shall be very glad to see
her,"I retorted, and assured M. Radot that
it was all right, that Lady Bentinck was
really next of kin.
M. le Maire had evidently been im-
pressed — I could easily imagine in what
manner — and was willing to allow Lady
Serena the utmost latitude which the for-
malities of the situation permitted. It
ended in my going down-stairs to the con-
cierge's room to explain to her the painful
state of affairs. The gendarme retiring
to the vestibule left the room free for her
reception.
38


LADY SERENA
I had not seen her ladyship since her
marriage and the prospect of meeting her
would have enlivened a dormouse. I must
confess to well nigh forgetting the grim
gray figure up-stairs in the study when I
opened the concierge's door and saw Lady
Serena. She was standing by the window
with all her frills and furbelows gathered
up in both hands as though she expected
to accumulate all the cigar ashes and chest-
nut shucks that the gendarmes had scat-
tered on Cartouche's erstwhile spotless
floor.
She had changed in a way; she was more
of a grande dame and less of a coquette, but
she was still altogether lovely, a creature
of pink and white, with an abundance of
golden hair and delightful dimples, and she
never looked more charming than now
under a great hat, covered with soft gray
plumes, and with some kind of a filmy, be-
wildering boa around her neck. When I
entered she held out both hands in the kind-
liest greeting but with a face full of dis-
tress.
“ You here!" she cried, “ tell me what
it all means, John. Can my uncle be dead?
I can't believe it!”
39


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
“ Neither can 1,” I retorted gravely,
“ yet it is true," and I told her as simply
as I could the details of his sudden death,
without a comparar para
without disclosing Lavaur's painful theory
— or indeed the discovery of the poison.
a
“ Dr. Lloyd was talking of you only last
night; he was thinking of going over to
England to see you,” I concluded, “ and
today — well, it is all over, Lady Serena."
She sat down weakly in Cartouche's
chair and looked at me with that wide in-
nocent look that she always had at com-
mand. She was plainly bewildered, how-
ever. Perhaps she had thought so much
of the possible inheritance that this sudden
realization stunned her.
“Do you know I think it is all just like
Uncle Henry?" she cried.
It was my turn to be amazed.
“ One would think that he was in the
habit of dying suddenly,” I remarked
dryly.
Oh, of course I don't mean that!" she
declared, “ but you know he always did the
unexpected — he always disappointed you
in some way. If I had only seen him yes-
terday!”
“ Yes, if you could only have come to
40


LADY SERENA
Paris one day sooner," I assented; “I
think he really wanted to see you."
“ But I did — I was here, here at this
very door, and he would not see me!" she
cried.
“ You were here — yesterday?" I was
a little bewildered; why had Lloyd spoken
so frankly of her, and of his will in her
favor, after refusing to see her? “ My
dear Lady Serena," I said, “ whom did you
see here? Old Cartouche?”
" The concierge — that old man? No, it
was a woman,” replied Serena, nervously
unfastening her boa and slipping it down
on her shoulders; " and — and, well she
was pointed in her refusal.”
“ I cannot imagine old Marie, the cook,
being anything but affable," I said, “ nor
do I believe that Lloyd authorized a re-
fusal. I shall ask her myself.”
“Oh, never mind !” cried Serena hys-
terically, pressing a lace bordered hand-
kerchief to her eyes; “ I've no doubt he
told her to shut me out. You know he
never forgave Bentinck for marrying me
- wasn't it ridiculous? As if we could
help it? But oh, I'm so sorry, I'm really
so sorry, John. He used to be so kind to
41


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
me as a little girl, and he really was such
a cranky old dear. What ought I to do?
Bentinck isn't with me; you'll have to ad-
vise me.”
“I don't think you can do anything just
now except go back to your hotel and
wait," I replied, “ unless you want to see
him --"
" Oh, I don't!” cried Serena, with a lit-
tle scream of dismay; “I don't — I'd
never get over it, you know I'm a coward,
John!"
“Frankly, I didn't know that," I re-
torted, almost amused at her evident terror
and the way she rose, gathering up all her
furbelows in her hands and yet seeming
to overflow with ribbons and feathers and
little strings of beads; “ where are you
staying?” I added.
"Oh, at Meurice's, of course," she re-
plied, “ and I've no one with me but my
maid. I really came over on purpose to
see Uncle Henry; I wanted to see him
about — about " she hesitated and
blushed and was apparently relieved by the
entrance of Marie.
The old woman came to tell me that
Lavaur desired to speak to me. She was


LADY SERENA
beating a hasty retreat, after dropping her
courtesy to Lady Serena, when it occurred
to me to question her.
“ Lady Bentinck, why not ask Marie now
about your uncle's refusal to see you?" I
said, turning to recall the domestic.
But Serena would not permit it.
“ Oh, never mind," she said, with a
shrug, “it was probably not her fault and
what difference does it make now?"
It was evident that she had not caught
Lavaur's name and I excused myself a mo-
ment to answer his summons.
I made up my mind meanwhile to ques-
tion Marie later myself about her denial of
Lloyd's niece.
I found Lavaur on the stairs alone. His
face wore a singularly reserved expression
and he asked nothing about Serena.
“Brinton," he said abruptly, “ get Lady
Bentinck away and I'll report to you later.
This discovery of poison in that glass is
going to make no end of trouble and for-
mality and I shouldn't let her know of it
yet.”
“I have not told her," I assured him,
" she is alone in Paris; she was here yes-
terday to see her uncle "
43


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
“ I know it, the old cook has already told
the Maire and the commissaire de police,”
replied Lavaur grimly.
“ Confound the old fool!" I muttered,
“how absurdly premature.'!
Lavaur shrugged his shoulders.
“ As it turns out, my dear Brinton," he
retorted, with his cynical smile, “ Lady
Serena was not the only female visitor yes-
terday.”
“ The plot thickens," I remarked dryly.
• Precisely, but you know what to expect
of the French police,” he replied, “ though
I suppose you have never been arrested in
Paris?"
“ Heaven forbid !" I muttered devoutly.
" It's not so bad as all that,” he said,
suppressing a laugh, “ experience is a
great teacher. Go and take Serena away,
my dear fellow. Where is she staying?”.
I told him and he laughed.
“ Of course it had to be a swell place to
suit her. I suppose Uncle Henry was to
pay the bills. See here, Brinton, I'll meet
you there at two o'clock. Can you wait
for me?"
“I must," I replied regretfully; " there
is nothing for me to do here."
44


LADY SERENA
“ Nothing," he replied decidedly; “it's
a matter now for the doctors and the po-
lice."
I accepted his assurance and conducted
Lady Serena to her carriage, but no sooner
were we on our way to the hotel than I fell
to wondering why Lavaur, who had been
so reluctant to go to the rue Fontaine St.
Georges, should be now so willing to stay
there and to send me away. However, I
was allowed no time for reflections as my
companion kept up the conversation.
“Do you believe in presentiments ?" she
asked me; “ I think I do — oh, yes, really.
You see I was suddenly determined to see
Uncle Henry. I had no reason to know
that I should be welcome, but I felt that
I must come. Bentinck laughed at me, but
I had my way.”
“You always did, Serena," I commented
dryly.
She gave me a sidelong look and smiled
a little, as if she was uncertain whether I
meant it as a compliment or not.
“Why, of course, what is the use of liv-
ing without it? By the way, John, are you
married? I haven't heard."


LADY SERENA
6. What do you mean?" she said, un-
easily, playing with her lorgnette.
“ I'm a lawyer, Serena," I said.
She made a wry face. “I hate law-
yers,” she declared; “ Bentinck has one
and he always comes down when things are
in bad shape and then we have to live in
Dorsetshire and give up society and — lit-
erally eat bread and cheese. I hate that
man, I do really.”
“ You speak with so much feeling that
I cannot help suspecting that you have had
a recent visit from him," I remarked, as
we neared the hotel.
She blushed scarlet and bit her lip.
It was no longer difficult for me to divine
the presentiment that had brought her to
Paris. The carriage was stopping at the
door of the hotel when she suddenly laid
her hand on my arm, pointing with the
other out of the window opposite.
“Good gracious!" she said, “ to think
that I should remember him and that he
should be here - here when uncle is just
dead."
" Who?" I asked quickly, my thoughts
flashing to Andrew Schenck, but I was mis-
taken.
47


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
“It's old Hez Portman,” she said with
a queer little laugh, “don't you know?
Uncle Henry's bitter enemy; they've had
a land feud for twenty years and they al-
most came to shooting before uncle left
home. I believe that old man will be posi-
tively glad, he's such an old ogre. Don't
you see him?"
I made out a stubby figure in a brown
suit, with a tall silk hat which did not set
naturally on a bullet head, and I had no
difficulty in recognizing the man. A dead-
ly feud had raged between Lloyd and Port-
man over the boundary line between their
two places outside of Boston; a feud out
of all proportion with the importance of
the disputed line.
“Did you know that your uncle lost the
suit in the Circuit Court," I said, " and
he was going to appeal it to the Supreme
Court?"
“ Dear me, no,” said Serena, with a
shrug, “ how furious Uncle Henry must
have been to lose it. Were you his law-
yer"
I nodded, smiling a little as I thought of
the acrimony with which the battle had
been waged, and watching Portman's
48


LADY SERENA
stubby figure until it disappeared in the
crowd.
The carriage had stopped and I was help-
ing Serena out when she looked up and saw
her maid approaching.
"Oh, there's Shane and I'll have some
tea later if you can come up-stairs to my
parlor, John, and take the time to drink it.”
I knew that I had to meet Lavaur in an
hour and that I might not see her alone
again.
“ Lady Serena," I said gently, “I
wouldn't mention my reasons for coming to
Paris — not now.”
She looked up at me in wide eyed amaze-
ment for a moment and then she blushed
furiously.
“I wish you would tell me what it all
means,” she said, petulantly. “ Truly I
cared for Uncle Lloyd, one would think —"
and she burst into tears and dropping her
veil over her face, hurried past me into the
hotel.


CHAPTER IV
THE WOMAN IN THE CASE
It was nearer three than two when La-
vaur came in. I had been waiting for him
with great impatience and hailed him the
moment he entered the lobby. At his sug-
gestion we retired to a secluded corner of
the smoking room, where we could be alone,
and he ordered cigarettes and wine before
he would say a word about the case.
“ Have the police finished their exam-
ination of the premises?" I asked finally,
my endurance quite exhausted by the lan-
guid ease with which he rolled a cigarette.
The servant who had brought the wine
had effaced himself, and we sat alone in
an alcove behind the palms.
"The police have made a thorough
search of the premises, and have cross-
examined the servants,” he replied, in his
leisurely manner," and M. Verney and I
have completed an examination of the wine.
There was absolutely no poison in the bot-
tle and none showed in your empty glass,
50


THE WOMAN IN THE CASE
but his contained a considerable quantity
and the trail of the powder on the table —
which led me to the discovery — is quite
unmistakable; there were also a few grains
spilled on the hearthrug."
“ At his feet?” I asked.
“ No, on the opposite side of the table.
Did he put anything in his glass when he
poured out the wine?”
“Not a thing," I replied positively;“I
was observing him at the time and be filled
both glasses at once and asked me to taste
the wine. I took one at haphazard; there-
fore, if he had put poison in one of the
glasses I might have taken it.”
“Precisely," he said thoughtfully," and
if we were living in the middle ages we
might suppose that he had intended to poi-
son you and took the wrong cup himself by
mistake. However, as that is not feasible,
we must suppose that there was either
poison in the wine-glass when he took it
from the cabinet, or that he put poison in
it after bidding you adieu. The first the-
ory is improbable, for he could scarcely
have poured the wine into the glass without
observing the powder in the bottom of it.


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
On the other hand, neither you nor I think
he committed suicide."
"No," I said firmly, “ I am sure he did
not. His opinions on that point were well
known; he had even written an article on
the subject, I believe for some magazine at
home. He regarded it as a peculiarly cow-
ardly act.”
“ Opinions often change and men become
cowards when they are forced to face an
extremity,” he retorted tritely.
“ We do not, however, know of any such
extremity in his case,” I said bluntly.
“ No, we do not,” Lavaur replied, puffing
away at his cigarette;“ but you know these
French police — or rather you don't know
them — they are looking for a theory - in
short, for a woman.”
I laughed a little grimly.
" Lloyd will disappoint them," I said,
" he wasn't at all that sort."
Lavaur looked at me from under his half-
closed eyelids and began to laugh softly.
“Do you know that there has been a
woman there recently and one who has
pleaded with him about money matters?”
he said. “ So much we know — thanks to
Cartouche's excellent hearing; it continues
52


THE WOMAN IN THE CASE
good — even on the other side of the key-
hole."
“Hang Cartouche's hearing!” I said
emphatically, “ Lloyd was rich and, of
course, had pensioners. It is unlikely that
this woman — if she exists anywhere but
in Cartouche's imagination — or any other
woman — drove him to suicide. Does the
concierge attempt to describe her?”
“ He does, and it is very melodramatic,”
replied Lavaur smiling, “ she was tall and
wore a black face veil and a black jacket,
her skirts seem to vary from brown to blue
as Cartouche happens to feel — and at
present he feels blue.”
“ Bosh!” I ejaculated, “ it is a romance
of his — nothing more. Some poor crea-
ture who wanted some of Lloyd's money —
a great many people wanted a pinch of it.”
" Very likely," he said, with a shrug,
“ but we get back to the suicide theory.
It remains to explain the poison, it was
there. Now, of course, we can begin by
suspecting the servants --" he waved his
hands in a liberal fashion but "
“I do not suspect them," I replied de-
liberately, curiously oppressed by the whole
thing, “ but — unless this goes for suicide
53


THE WOMAN IN THE CASE
" Very little, as usual. Old Marie never
left the house until she went home at night;
she sleeps in a garret on the rue de Chaume
- an appropriate place, too, by the way,
for a cook — and as she had been to early
mass — what we call the biddy's mass at
home — she had no call to go out after
breakfast. When Cartouche is absent she
answers the bell, but she only answered it
once that day and that was when she re-
fused a veiled lady admittance "
“ Lady Serena," I said promptly.
“ Exactly. It was during a fifteen min-
utes absence of Cartouche's; he went to the
chemist's for some medicine. Happily for
him he could produce the bottle and the
chemist bears out his statement. Now we
come to Dr. Lloyd's part of it. He was out
from ten in the morning until a quarter of
one, and he was out for twenty or thirty
minutes in the afternoon — at the time
when Lady Bentinck called.”
“Ah," I said, “ then he did not know of
her visit.”
"No," replied Lavaur," and it appears
that the mysterious female of the black
jacket and veil had called before ten and
had seen him for about fifteen minutes.
55


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
After she left — Cartouche showed her out
- Dr. Lloyd gave a sweeping order to re-
fuse her admittance at all times and sea-
sons. The simple fact is that Marie mis-
took Lady Serena for the tabooed visitor
— with whom she was not very familiar —
and, as it turned out, she never even gave
Serena's card to Dr. Lloyd at all."
" That was unfortunate, he really
wanted to see her, I feel sure," I said, and
then added musingly,“ it's a closed case,
Lavaur, I don't see any trail, do you?"
" There are one or two theories pos-
sible," he replied, tossing aside his third
cigarette, “ and one is that there was a
third person concealed in the room when
you and Lloyd were there, a third person
who managed to poison the wine and effect
an escape.”
“ I cannot imagine it," I retorted, frown-
ing on such a suggestion, “ the place is
small and Cartouche was below stairs all
the while.”
" Then we must fall back on the serv-
ants."
“ Never in the world!" I replied, with
warmth; “ old Marie is a simple person


THE WOMAN IN THE CASE
and Cartouche was really devoted to
Lloyd."
Lavaur nodded, half closing his eyes as
he leaned back in his chair.
“ You refuse that,” he said, “ you scout
the idea of suicide. Very well, then we
suppose it was murder. Some one must
have been in the room and put the powder
in the wine while Lloyd was bidding you
goodby. Bien, that is possible but not
probable. It is possible and one thing
bears it out. There is a grain or two of
the powder behind the Italian cabinet at
the left hand corner, there are several
grains on that side of the table. The per-
son who put it in the glass was either hur-
ried or nervous — or both – and made a
bungle of it. We — you and I know
that Lloyd was not nervous. Moreover,
why did he not sit down and put the pow-
der in on the side of the table where his
chair stood? He would not have done such
a thing in haste.”
"Is it possible that he mistook it for a
medicine?” I interposed.
" Possible, yes, but he was not a believer
in drugs according to my recollection of
him. The servants say that he was not
57


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
known to take any. Besides, a man of his
mind would scarcely keep a deadly poison
so carelessly as to make a mistake. He was
obviously methodical; he labelled and
pigeon-holed everything. But, supposing
that the murderer was concealed in the
room, how did he, or she, get out? Car-
touche sleeps in a closet at the foot of the
stairs, and he swears that every door and
window were bolted when he arose this
morning, just as they were on the previous
night. His imbecility in sticking to this —
when he must see the drift of suspicion —
convinces me that he is not evil minded;
he would have planned better.”
“How soon did he discover Lloyd's
death?" I asked, after a moment's reflec-
tion.
“ Just after letting Marie in, about seven
o'clock. He went up to set the table for
breakfast - Lloyd kept his New England
habits — and Cartouche found then that he
had never been in bed. He says that he
thought he had had a stroke and he called
Marie to help him. Then finding that he
was really dead, he ran out and got a gen-
darme almost at the door. This man
mounted guard while Cartouche ran for Dr.
58


THE WOMAN IN THE CASE
Verney, whom he knew. Now, my dear
Brinton, where was our prisoner; how did
he, or she, get out?"
I shook my head. “I confess, Gilette,
that — unless we can find some clew — the
suicide theory is the strongest."
He smiled and thrusting his hand into
his pocket he pulled out a small bit of
woolen stuff and handed it to me. I looked
at it in some bewilderment. It was ap-
parently a fragment of brown serge,
hemmed on one side and shot through with
a darker brown thread; it had been jagged
out of a larger piece.
“ Well?” I said, looking up at his im-
perturbable face.
“It's a piece of a woman's flounce," he
said, “ and I found it behind the Italian
cabinet, caught on a rear corner of it.
Marie swears that she never possessed such
a skirt, nor do I believe she ever did.”
" The mysterious female again,” I re-
marked, “ but it doesn't materially help
us."
He poured out another glass of wine.
He had a very hard head.
“I wish Lady Bentinck had stayed in
England,” he remarked abruptly.


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
I saw his point.
“ Do you think it possible — " I be-
gan.
He threw out his hands with an impatient
gesture.
" Anything is possible in a case like this,
and Marie has confused her with this un-
known woman. Can't you get her away,
Brinton?”
" I suppose I could," I assented, “ but
the will must be seen to and I am neces-
sary."
Lavaur frowned.
“Lloyd is to be buried tomorrow," he
said; “ you can read this confounded will
and get her away by night.”
“If she'll go,” I said, with a grim smile,
“ Serena is a very uncertain quantity."
He shrugged his shoulders and sat star-
ing moodily at his wine-glass.
“ Aren't you going to see her?” I
asked.
He frowned and then smiled.
“ No,” he said, " a man need not be a
fool twice.”
Then I knew that he had really loved
Serena Lloyd as I had suspected.
60


THE WOMAN IN THE CASE
Almost as he spoke one of the servants
approached me.
“ Monsieur,” he said, “ a lady wishes to
see you; she is in the lobby.”
“A lady?” I was a bit surprised; this
could not be a summons from Lady Serena
and no one else knew that I was in Paris.
“ What sort of a lady?" I asked.
“ A tall lady, m'sieur,” he replied, dis-
creetly looking down, “ wearing a black
dress and a black veil.”
I glanced at Lavaur and saw a flash in
his eyes.
" The mysterious female," I said, in
English;“ I'll go out and see her.”
“ À la bonne heurre!” said Lavaur,
with a grimace, “ I'm not in it though.”
“Wait for me," I retorted hastily, and
rising from my seat I followed the servant
with a good deal of curiosity.
Was it possible that it was the unknown?


CHAPTER V
THE EX-HOUSEKEEPER
As soon as I entered the lobby I saw a
tall, thin woman dressed in black and wear-
ing a black face veil. She was standing in
a remote corner quite alone, and I was at
first convinced that she was unknown to me.
However, in that I was mistaken, for as I
approached she raised her veil and called
me by name.
" You don't seem to know me, Mr. Brin-
ton,” she said, “ though you've seen me
often before. I was Dr. Lloyd's house-
keeper for ten years in Boston, and before
that I was Mrs. Schenck's nurse.”
Looking at her steadily, I began to re-
member her drab-colored expressionless
face and her small colorless eyes. She was
Andrew Schenck's nurse and foster-moth-
er, his own mother having died when he
was three weeks old. I recollected it all
now but I could not recall her name. How-
ever, she told it at once.
“I am Leah Buyse,” she said quietly,
62


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
had not yet got hold of the discovery of the
poison.
" That is the mystery, Mrs. Buyse," I
said, quietly; “ by the way, you say you
saw him yesterday. Can you tell me at
what time?”
“ About half past nine in the morning,
sir, he had just finished breakfast. We had
quite a talk.”
" About money matters?" I asked ab-
ruptly, eyeing her keenly. I suspected her
of being Schenck's agent.
She looked up in surprise and I thought
that there was a change in her face.
“ Ye-es,” she admitted, with some reluc-
tance, “ I wanted some help for Mattie,
Mattie's my daughter,” she explained;
“ she's married but her husband was crip-
pled in an accident in the mill last year and
he can't work any more. There are six
children. Indeed, sir, they do need help
and Dr. Lloyd gave me a check for her.
I've got it, I hadn't even had time to send
it;' she fumbled in her hand-bag and pro-
duced a slip of paper;" there it is, sir.”
I glanced at it mechanically and saw that
it was Lloyd's check for one hundred dol-
lars made out to Matilda Mack.
64


THE EX-HOUSEKEEPER
“ The doctor was most kind,” she said,
with a conventional whimper," and I can't
bear to think he's gone. Wasn't it more
like a stroke?”
“ There was poison in his glass,” I re-
plied simply.
The woman stared at me with dilated
eyes.
“ You don't mean it, sir?" she said. “ It
was just kind of hinted that he'd made way
with himself, but I didn't begin to believe
it! To think of his poisoning himself!”
I did not think it worth while to go into
the murder theory just then so I returned
the check.
" You can't draw that now, Mrs.
Buyse," I remarked.
Her face fell and she crumpled it tightly
in her hand.
“ Poor Mattie!” she said, "it's too
hard — it is indeed."
I remembered Lloyd's orders not to ad-
mit her and suspected that the woman was
a regular beggar and was trying to work
on my feelings. Yet I could not help feel-
ing sorry for her evident distress, though
I saw it was less for Lloyd's death than
for his money.
65


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
“ You had been to see him before?” I
asked carelessly.
“Yes, sir, twice," she answered readily,
drying her tears; “ once when Mrs. Mc-
Henry first came here with me, in the
spring, and once when I came back from
Italy - and this time. That is all."
“You are still with Mrs. McHenry?".
"No," she answered, reluctantly, I
thought, “ no, sir, I was taken sick in Rome
and she sent me here two weeks ago to wait
for her. I'm staying with a decent wom-
an, who was a maid to Mrs. McHenry; she
lives on the rue de la Chaussée d'Antin."
I wanted much to know if Mrs. McHenry
still paid her wages or if she had depended
upon bleeding Lloyd, but I did not feel
justified in catechizing her further. More-
over, if her story was true, there must have
been another female visitor on the rue
Fontaine St. Georges. I could not quite
divine her object in wishing to see Serena
unless it was to solicit financial aid. In a
moment, however, she struck another note.
“Do you know anything of Mr. Andrew,
sir?" she asked anxiously; “ is he here?
He'll feel his uncle's death mightily."
“I think very likely he will,” I re-
66


THE EX-HOUSEKEEPER
marked dryly, thinking of the provisions
of the will. “I don't know where he is.
A cable was sent to his New York address,
however. It was a surprise to most of us
to hear of his marriage and divorce."
“ Poor Mr. Andrew!” she sighed,
pressing her handkerchief to her eyes;
“ the doctor was very angry. It was he
who told me. I hope, sir, he hasn't cut
him off in the will?”
" That question will be finally answered
tomorrow," I replied sharply; the wom-
an's eagerness for her favorite, though
natural enough, offended me. It was not
poor Dr. Lloyd that these people mourned
but his purse.
She stood a moment longer, awkwardly
silent and uneasy, and I was on the point
of closing the interview when she spoke
again.
“You'll think it strange, sir,” she said,
hesitating," but can I find out to-morrow?
You see, it's this way; Mr. Andrew has
always been like my own boy to me and
you know how it was — the doctor was so
angry that I'm afraid for him. It'll go
hard with him if he hasn't any money; he's
been brought up to use so much and he's
.: 67


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
been so open handed that he has lost most
of that his mother left him. I can't help
feeling bad, I can't indeed.”
The woman's attachment to her foster
son was so obviously sincere that I forgave
her.
“ The will is to be read tomorrow at
about one o'clock, I suppose," I said,
“ right after the funeral anyway, and then
you can learn its contents from any one,
Lady Serena's maid or old Cartouche. I
can tell you myself, for that matter," I
added, with some reluctance to be annoyed
by her.
She thanked me effusively and bade me
good morning. Then dropping her veil
over her face, she made her way out and
left me again at liberty.
Relieved to have a tiresome matter over,
I went in search of Lavaur to find that he
had finished his bottle and was walking to
and fro in his corner of the now almost
deserted smoking-room. There was only
one other occupant, an old Frenchman,
who was asleep over his newspaper.
It gave me a little grim pleasure to shat-
ter the police theory of the mysterious fe-
male visitor.
68


THE EX-HOUSEKEEPER
“ The woman of the black veil has
materialized,” I said, " and she is only
old Mrs. Buyse, Andrew Schenck's foster-
mother, and, for awhile, Lloyd's house-
keeper. Nothing could be more prosaic;
she had been there to beg for some money
for an unfortunate daughter. It's the old
story. Rich people always maintain a
train of beggars."
Lavaur laughed grimly, continuing his
promenade.
“Lloyd looked like that kind," he said,
sarcastically, “ very much so! However,
that clew has vanished. It will set the po-
lice on another. I have half a mind — "
he stopped, and stood looking at me
thoughtfully.
" Well?" I said, interrogatively.
“ Yes, I'll do it,” he exclaimed, “ I'll
take Lloyd's house for a month or two."
I shrugged my shoulders. “My dear
Gilette,” I remonstrated, “how unpleas-
ant."
“ Why?” he asked, “ it's an old rookery
and I'll trail the serpent from there. I
tell you what it is, Jack, I believe it's mur-
der, and I want to find out. But if the
69


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
police get the idea that it's suicide, let
them, it's safer."
I assented to that, thinking of old Car-
touche and Marie, of whose innocence I
felt assured.
Lavaur took out his watch and looked
at it.
“ It lacks only three hours of my dinner
time," he said, “ and you're engaged —
oh, I know — but I've asked five or six men
and we can't disappoint them, besides, you
were not related to—"
He was interrupted by a servant with a
message from Lady Bentinck. She had
heard who was there, and would we both
come up stairs to take tea with her?
Lavaur hesitated and was lost.
“ Come,” I said authoritatively, “ you
must see her tomorrow. Besides, she is
well worth seeing.”
“Do I not know?” he replied, with a
shrug, but he followed me to the elevator.
Lady Serena was waiting for us in her
private parlor and she wore a bewildering
tea-gown of pale blue silk covered with
lace. A little tea table was set at her el-
bow. She seemed to have forgotten her
emotion at the door of the hotel and she
70


THE EX-HOUSEKEEPER
greeted us both very simply, with unaf-
fected cordiality.
“I think it is really cruel of you to leave
me here so long in suspense,” she said; “I
am really very lonely and frightened and
I am sorry now that I came.”
“Don't expect us to agree with that,"
replied Lavaur, with his easy gallantry;
“I haven't seen you for six years, Lady
Bentinck. It's almost worth a murder."
Serena gave a little cry, setting the tea-
cups rattling as she half rose.
" What do you mean?" she cried, “ you
can't mean that?”
He seemed repentant.
“My dear Lady Serena,” he said, help-
ing himself to a buttered muffin, “ don't
let us be heroic. It was a figure of speech.
Yes, of course, the doctor's death is unex-
plained.”
Serena looked at him a moment round
eyed, but she had a thoroughly practical
mind.
“Do you know I haven't a black rag
with me?” she said, in an awed voice,
“ and I've sent my woman out to buy a
costume for to-morrow. Of course, it
won't fit!”
71


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
“ How disillusioning you are! I thought
your things unfolded and bloomed — like
the petals of a rose," remarked Lavaur
frivolously; “I had no idea that you
bought clothes just like ordinary, common-
place women.”
“ Dear me!” retorted Serena laughing,
“ if you could see the bills!”.
Then she busied herself making the tea.
I thought Lavaur made her a little self-
conscious; she was flushed and not quite
at ease.
“Isn't it too bad that I didn't come
sooner? ” she went on, handing me a cup;
“ John tells me that my uncle was ready
to forgive me. I really can't imagine it,
but then I suppose I ought to believe
John.”
“Should you?” said Lavaur dryly;
“ he belongs to a profession of liars.”
Serena shrugged her shoulders, “I
shouldn't like to say just what I think of
Bentinck's family solicitor,” she said,
" and I shall spare John's feelings by not
saying anything too honest about his pro-
fession;" and she looked at me archly, and
then added: “You know my cousin, An-
drew Schenck, has been getting a divorce
72


THE EX-HOUSEKEEPER
before we knew that he was married ?"
“ You mean his wife has," I corrected
her.
“Oh, it's the same thing in its results,”
she said, carelessly; “ imagine Uncle
Henry facing a mésalliance and a divorce
in the family."
" What do you mean by a mésalliance?”
drawled Lavaur, consuming more muffin.
Lady Serena darted a scornful glance
at me.
"Well, the French explain it that when
a man marries a woman whom he has
never met socially in the same houses,
you know — he is making a mésalliance,'
she said, and then she positively giggled
as she added; “ but Andy married his
housekeeper's daughter and he must have
met her— in the pantry, at least.”
" Then it is a mésalliance to marry a
lady whom you meet in your pantry,” said
Lavaur. “Good heavens, I remember an
amiable old gentleman in New Haven who
married his cook.”
“Do you recollect whether he ever got
a divorce?" I asked.
“Never — he died of gout.”
“She must have been a divine cook,"
Good heavendut pantry,” said
amiable


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
said Serena, looking across her tea service
at us, her white hands clasped under her
chin.“ Really, I think we'll have to
marry our cooks soon to keep them. But,
truly, I'm sorry about Andrew, he is al-
ways bringing the family into the papers.
He was in England two years ago betting
on horse races. He tried to get Bentinck
into it with him on some pet horse, but I
stopped that. I knew what that would
mean if Uncle Lloyd found it out. He
would have declared that my husband led
Andy on!”
I laughed. " Andrew Schenck is so
tractable," I remarked. “By the way,
Lady Serena, do you know Anice Hol-
land?" I added.
She shook her head. “No, I never saw
her but once or twice,” she replied, “ I'm
always shy of my relations, too. I'm
afraid she's rather a funk."
I was called to the door at this moment
by a messenger from the Maire, M. Radot,
to tell the hour set for the funeral of Dr.
Lloyd. The formality of my signature
and the reading of the note kept me for a
few moments. When I returned I was
surprised to see Lavaur standing, with a
74


THE EX-HOUSEKEEPER
grave face, looking down at Serena who
lay back in her chair quite white and
frightened. I could not divine what had
passed between them, but as I drew near
she turned to me with almost an appeal.
“John,” she said, “ John, I want to go
home. Will you take me?"
“ Certainly," I replied, still perplexed;
" after the funeral and after the will is
read. I have charge of the will, Lady
Serena."
When I said this, she gave a little ex-
clamation and looked at Lavaur as if for
suggestions. He nodded, staring into his
tea-cup.
“That will do," he said, “ there's a
three ten for Calais."
" Upon my word,” I said, a little net-
tled, “ it appears that you are anxious to
be rid of me."
He looked at Serena and laughed, but
she rose and held out her hand with a tear-
ful smile and Lavaur and I took our leave.


CHAPTER VI
THE WILL
Dr. Lloyd was buried in the morning
with a simple ceremony at Pere la Chaise,
and it seemed to me that the most sincere
mourners at the grave were old Cartouche
and Marie, the cook. Lady Serena,
dressed in faultless black, leaned rather
heavily on my arm, but I do not remember
that she shed a single tear. On the con-
trary, she drew a sigh of relief when we
turned from the grave. In fact, she had
been extremely nervous all through the or-
deal, and we were none of us quite at ease
for the situation was singularly compli-
cated and unfortunate. The post mortem
examination had proved, beyond a doubt,
that Lloyd had died from the effects of the
poison taken in his wine. The verdict had
been suicide, but both Cartouche and Marie
were under police surveillance. My own
strong conviction of their innocence made
me determined to fight their battle for
them if the matter should be pressed to
76


THE WILL
extremity. But the suicide theory seemed
so strong to any one unacquainted with
Lloyd's peculiarities that I became more
and more convinced that it would be ac-
cepted by the authorities unless some more
evidence was produced to prove that the
poison could not have been self-adminis-
tered. Looking over the case, point by
point, I saw that — were the question once
raised — the difficulties of proving the in-
nocence of the servants would be enor-
mous, and, in spite of my reluctance to
attach suicide to Lloyd's memory, I began
to hope that the suspicion of murder would
not be strengthened. These thoughts oc-
cupied my mind and made me, I fear, a
depressing companion for Lady Serena
and Lavaur on the drive back from the
cemetery. However, I suspected that her
thoughts were full of the will, which was
to be formally opened in the presence of
the notary in whose charge it had been
since the morning after Lloyd's death.
As for Lavaur, he seemed deeply preoccu-
pied and did not even attempt to help me
out.
An American lawyer at present in Paris,
was to represent Andrew Schenck and


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
Anice Holland. They had cabled power
of attorney to him and he had been notified
to meet us that morning.
We drove at once, therefore, to the office
of the notary and there Lavaur was about
to leave us, when Lady Serena begged him
to remain. I saw that she was much agi-
tated and seemed to rely more upon him
than upon me, which was rather annoying
as I was Lloyd's attorney and her own
legal representative.
We were ushered at once into the stuffy
little office on the old rue de l'Arbre Sec,
where M. Doudet, the notary, awaited us.
With him was Mr. Jackson Gibbs, the at-
torney for the other heirs. He was a little
man with a shrewd little face and a distinct
inclination to toady when he found himself
in the presence of a titled personage, a
representative of the English aristocracy,
although a rival of his clients.
The formalities of the occasion having
been complied with M. Doudet produced
the will, the same that I had taken from
the secret drawer on the rue Fontaine St.
Georges, and having called upon me to
recognize the document, he broke the seals
78


THE WILL
and handed it to me to read aloud to Lady
Serena and Mr. Gibbs.
I remembered the provisions of the will
very well and began to read the familiar
preamble stating the health and sanity of
the testator, in a perfunctory manner. I
knew that the will would be in the nature
of a pleasant surprise to my fair auditor,
for she and her cousin, Anice, were the
chief beneficiaries. There were, of course,
as in the case of nearly every large estate,
several legacies to charitable and scientific
institutions in Lloyd's native state, and
also small amounts to old and faithful
servants at home. These points were all
familiar and I was only a little surprised
as I proceeded down the typewritten page
that my memory was evidently faulty, for
nearly all these small bequests were less
than I had thought except the five thou-
sand to Mrs. Leah Buyse, which remained
the same. But when I turned the page,
reading mechanically, I came upon such
an astonishing deviation that I stopped
short and stared blankly at the words.
There was a hush in the little room and
I was conscious of the rustle of Lady Ben-
tinck's skirts as she stirred in her chair,
79


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
and met his handiggested
and of the ticking of the clock on the
mantel.
" Will monsieur proceed?” suggested
M. Doudet softly, rubbing his hands.
I looked up and met Lavaur's eyes
which were fixed on my face with a singu-
lar expression in them. Even little Mr.
Gibbs began to fidget and to look toward
Lady Serena.
Then I began to read and read firmly
on to the end though my head whirled.
There was a long and careful enumera-
tion of Lloyd's property, in Boston, Lynn
and in New York, beside his mines and
railroad stocks and Standard Oil interests,
and then it was divided between three heirs
in a singular manner. The munificent sum
of twenty thousand was bequeathed to his
niece, Anice Holland, and the same amount
to his niece, Serena Lloyd Bentinck, and
the remainder of the large estate went in
bulk to his nephew, Andrew Schenck!
I laid down the paper on the notary's
desk and stood resting my hand upon it
and trying to clear my mind of all er-
roneous recollections. Both Lady Serena
and Lavaur mistook my silence for ac-
quiescence. They knew that I had had
80


THE WILL
previous knowledge of the will and they
supposed that I was fully prepared. She
rose and lowered her veil.
“I think I shall go back at once to the
hotel,” she said stiffly, and then her nat-
ural frankness overcame her manners.
“I think it's a shame," she said to me
hotly, “ Andy gets everything and Anice
and I only get a pittance from that great
fortune, and we all know how little Andy
deserved uncle's infatuated partiality. I
- I can't see, John Brinton, how you had
the face to draw that will!”.
" But I did not draw it, Lady Serena,"
I replied quietly.
She opened her blue eyes angrily and
treated me to a haughty look.
“ I thought you inferred that you did,”
she retorted, trying — rather unsuccess-
fully — to control her vexation. She was
very near tears, but not for Lloyd. In
fact, I think, she never mourned him less
than at that moment.
“I drew one will certainly," I re-
plied, “ but not this one.”
" What did he do with the other then?"
she cried impetuously; “ destroyed it, I
81


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
suppose. Who witnessed this, and what is
the date?”
“That is the mystery," I answered,
looking at the document; “ the date and
the witnesses are precisely the same, only
I am not named as executor; Schenck is.”
Serena made a little exclamation.
“You must be mistaken about the date
and the witnesses,” Lavaur said quickly.
Mr. Gibbs, too, came over to examine
the paper and I saw that he was uneasy
and evidently undecided as yet what to
do or to say.
I took a note-book from my pocket and
turning back quickly to the date, December
6th, 1901, I showed them my entry of the
will and the names of the witnesses. La-
vaur took up and compared the document
with my notes and there were the date and
the names precisely as I had them.
“Are you the only person acquainted
with the contents of the will that you as-
sert that you drew?" asked Gibbs se-
verely.
6 With the will that I drew," I cor-
rected him dryly; " yes, as far as I know.
The witnesses probably knew nothing. I
am the only person who can prove the dif-
82


THE WILL
ference, but I have a draft of the will
among my papers at home.”
Mr. Gibbs made no immediate reply, but
pursed up his lips. M. Doudet, on the
other hand, looked completely puzzled, but
I noticed that Lavaur's face was alive with
interest. Lady Serena bent down and ex-
amined the will curiously.
“ Were the differences very essential?”
she asked coldly; she could not quite re-
cover from her disappointment.
“ Essential ? — I should say so," I re-
plied, looking more closely at the paper.
“ Conditions were exactly reversed.”
She made some little exclamation of
surprise and began to nervously fasten
and unfasten her gloves.
“ That is an extraordinary statement,
sir,” remarked Mr. Gibbs sternly.
“I am aware of it," I replied coolly,
6 but it is nevertheless true.”
Lavaur glanced at me, his keen, long face
singularly alert, while M. Doudet looked
from one to the other in evident perplexity.
Lady Bentinck shook out the lace ruffles
about her neck and picked up her muff.
“I shall contest that will,” she an-
nounced unguardedly; “I don't believe
83


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
that Uncle Lloyd ever meant it! If he
made two at once he must have been out
of his mind anyway."
Mr. Gibbs was more cautious, although I
think, in his vulgar little soul, he longed
to agree with the aristocracy.
" It favors one of my clients certainly,”
he remarked, “but the other, Miss Hol-
the others certainly,,,
Therefters under
There seemed nothing, at the moment,
for the rest of us to say. Lavaur had
finished his examination of the paper and
offered Lady Serena his arm. M. Doudet
remained in charge of the document for
the time. As Lady Serena and Lavaur
left he asked me a direct question.
“ Monsieur, do you think that there is
something irregular about this will ? "
“Frankly, M. Doudet, I cannot reconcile
myself to it," I replied; “it is not the
document I drew, yet it bears the date and
the names of the witnesses. It remains to
be seen what course will be pursued by the
heirs."
Mr. Gibbs, meanwhile, stood silent. He
was so obviously unfamiliar with the case
that I did not expect any pearls of wisdom
84


THE WILL
atch fromhamns I said,
he retoriche
from his lips. Besides, his position was a
peculiarly delicate one.
“May I ask how you came to be retained
by both Miss Holland and Mr. Schenck?”
I inquired, as I looked about for my over-
coat and hat.
“I have known Miss Holland's aunt for
years,” he replied, " and have lately cor-
responded with her. Mr. Schenck sent me
a dispatch from Southampton.”
“From where?” I said sharply.
“From Southampton," he retorted;
“ Miss Holland's aunt knows him well; she
probably cabled to him as soon as she re-
ceived her dispatch.”
I could not suppress a soft whistle of
surprise. So, these two parties to the will
might be reckoned as a combined force,
unless the small legacy to Anice Holland
caused a rupture.
“I think there will be a contest, Mr.
Gibbs," I said briefly.
He bowed gravely, eyeing me with evi-
dent disdain — I was not an English lord.
Leaving him to talk to M. Doudet I has-
tened my departure.
At the door I found a woman dressed in
85


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
decent black and as I approached she
raised her veil. It was Mrs. Buyse.
“How does it fare with Mr. Andrew,
sir?" she asked anxiously.
“Exceedingly well,” I retorted dryly,
“ he gets the lion's share."
She drew her breath sharply, staring at
me out of her large, colorless eyes.
"I can't help being thankful,” she said
meekly, “ though I do hope the young la-
dies are well remembered.”
“You are, Mrs. Buyse," I replied, and
passed on, annoyed, in spite of myself, at
the woman's eagerness.
I did not tell her that her favorite was
in England. It occurred to me that she
must have followed us in some way to M.
Doudet's office. These leeches were too
eager for the spoils. But, as I proceeded,
I speedily forgot her in my thoughts of
other matters. To me the change in the
will was more significant than Lloyd's
death. The conviction of foul play was
growing upon me. But how could a mur-
der be committed thus? How was the will
changed? I found myself confronted by a
mystery that had no solution.
When I arrived at Meurice's, Lady
86


THE WILL
Serena and Lavaur were hot in discussion
over a cup of chocolate in the café. She
was in a penitent mood.
" I was horrid to you, John Brinton,"
she said, holding out a plump white hand
that was much bejewelled," but I wasn't
myself. Of course, Uncle John was the
most prejudiced creature in the world, but
I really call that will more unkind than he
ever was! What do you say to it?”
“My dear Lady Serena," I replied, tak-
ink the vacant chair at the table, “ I really
do not know what to say. The night be-
fore your uncle's death he referred to the
will that I drew in December, 1901, and
said that he intended to allow it to stand.
He explained that he had relented toward
Andrew but that his divorce suit ended
everything — or, to be more exact, ' his
recent conduct' — he did not refer to the
divorce in so many words. He added that
he should not make any provision for him.
Under the will that I drew he received not
one cent.”
" What in the world does it all mean?”
she cried. “I can't understand it. Has
some one stolen the true will?”
I did not reply. Both Lavaur and I sat
87


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
looking at each other thoughtfully. Se-
rena leaned back in her chair.
“Good heavens!” she said plaintively,
“I wish men had tongues; these non-com-
mittal creatures drive me to distraction.
For my part, I believe that will is a for-
gery, and as for that hateful little syco-
phant, Gibbs or Bibbs, I'm sure he
looks like a conspirator. Where's Andy
Schenck?”
“ Poor Gibbs, how vain our efforts to be
ingratiating!” I remarked reflectively.
Lady Serena pouted. “I asked you
about Schenck,” she said.
“ To be sure," I replied, “he is at
Southampton — or nearer."
She gave a little cry of surprise and then
began to laugh.
“ Did he run away from the lady - or
the tiger?” she asked.
“From both, I suspect," replied La-
vaur, and then excusing himself for a mo-
ment he went off toward the lobby. At the
moment, I attached no importance to his
movements.
“Really, Lady Serena, I do not believe
in that will," I said, taking full thought of
88


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
I excused myself for a moment and went
out to meet him, leaving Serena gazing
rather blankly at the vacant chairs. He
drew me outside of the door.
“Brinton, I want you to get her away,”
he said, in a low voice, “and at once.
They have become suspicious, found some
new evidence; Marie and Cartouche are
both arrested and Marie insists that Lady
Serena got into the house on her first visit.
There will be trouble.”
I looked back at Serena's figure at the
table, at the determined pose of her small
head.
“ And if she will not go?” I suggested.
" Then she will be arrested,” said La-
vaur.


CHAPTER VII
ON THE BOAT
It was a stormy night when Lady Serena
and I embarked at Calais. She had been
very silent all the way from Paris, but I
attributed this partly to the presence of
her maid in the same compartment car-
riage, and partly to her depression over
the turn of affairs. But once on the deck
of the ship with me her tongue was loos-
ened. It was so wet and squally that
nearly all the passengers went below, but
Serena, who was an excellent sailor, ap-
peared in a long storm coat with capes and
an altogether captivating cap on her head.
" Come, John,” she said imperatively,
" let us walk up here. That cabin is full
of sick people and too stuffy for endur-
ance. Look how the last little lights on
the French shore are blinking through the
fog; it's perfectly dismal, isn't it?".
“It's certainly a wretched night for the
trip," I replied, “ but nothing depresses
you long, Serena."
91


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
She shrugged her shoulders and turned
away from the rail, walking swiftly along
the shining wet decks at my side.
“I don't know why I'm not depressed,"
she said lightly, “ for I'm in a regular
hole. I know, of course, that Bentinck
thought I would bring him a fortune, and
what is this petty legacy but a drop in the
bucket? It's nothing at all when people
are in debt up to their ears, and we are!"
I experienced a curiously unpleasant
feeling that Bentinck must be a scamp to
bank on a girl's possible inheritance, but I
could not say so, and she went on.
“I can't understand it,” she said, nod-
ding her head," and I only hope it will
get cleared up. Uncle Lloyd certainly
was a crank, but this is carrying it rather
far. And he brought me up to expect
money, too. Good gracious, yes, I was to
have a fortune, and how I love money,
too. It sounds simply disgraceful, but I
just love to be rich."
" To be sure," I replied, with a chuckle,
“ you love to spend money, you always
did.”
"For what else should I want it?" she
asked disdainfully, “ surely not to hoard
92


ON THE BOAT
it, that isn't in me. It's only meant to
make people happy. Oh, it's all horrid,
Jack, horrid!”
“ I quite agree with you," I said, “ but
it will be no easy task to set things
straight, I fear.”
“Set it straight?" she repeated, a little
bewildered, and then: “Why, John, I
didn't mean only the will — but poor
Uncle Lloyd's death — to think that he
poisoned himself is dreadful.”
“I don't believe he did, Lady Serena,"
I said deliberately.
“Then, of course, it must have been one
of those horrid old servants.”
“Neither do I think that," I replied
quietly.
“ Goodness, do you think it was me?”
she said flippantly, laying her hand on my
arm and suddenly stopping me under a
light.
* Good heavens, no, Serena,” I said
sharply.
She began to laugh softly and turning
again, walked on, her hand still resting
lightly on my arm. The wind blew the
rain in our faces and we both lowered our
93


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
heads to escape it. The end of the deck
was deserted.
“You think you are taking me away
from the French police, John, don't you?”
she asked.
Then she had divined our motive after
all and that accounted for her acquiescence
in the hurried departure.
“It was best to be out of Paris," I said,
non-committal.
She stopped again and leaned on the rail
with both hands, looking back across the
black waters. Her figure was as youthful
as a girl of sixteen. Presently she turned
her head, looking at me over her shoulder.
" John,” she said, “I've always heard
that lawyers mismanaged their own cases,
but I never dreamed that you were so slow.
Don't you see, John, didn't you see?”
A ray of light from one of the ship's
lanterns fell on her pretty, piquante face
making it a silhouette against the night.
I began to share Lloyd's disgust that she
had married a fortune-hunting peer.
“I suppose I'm dull,” I said slowly,
“ but I don't catch your drift, Serena.”
She whipped her hands off the rail and
faced about, the wind tossing her fair hair.
94


ON THE BOAT
“I shall tell you,” she said, “ can't you
see the plain inference? If that wine was
poisoned - if it was poisoned - John,
who was with Dr. Lloyd when it was
poured out into the glass? Who saw him
last?"
“ Do you mean to say that you believe
that, Serena?" I demanded fiercely.
She came over swiftly and laid both
hands on my arm.
“Should I be here, John?" she asked
lightly.
A great many things became suddenly
clear.
“ Good heavens, you and Lavaur put
this up between you to get me away!” I
exclaimed, and felt the blood running hot
to my face.
She nodded. "We simply didn't dare
to tell you,” she said, in a propitiating
voice.
“I suppose that Lavaur suspected me,”
I exclaimed bitterly.
“No— no, I'm sure he did not,” she
cried eagerly, “ but the whole situation -
it is so mysterious, so ugly — "
“ Yes," I acknowledged stiffly, “ it does
look black, now I see it as others do, but
95


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
you must pardon my stupidity in not view-
ing myself as a murderer.”
“ Now you are angry,” she remarked,
as if the charge were not sufficiently ugly
to madden a man," and there is simply
no use in losing your temper. It's a night-
mare anyway!”
I turned from her in anger and walked
to and fro in the little space between the
rails. I had been a fool, but this was
worse than I thought. I felt betrayed by
my friends, but I saw the full significance
of it at last. I wondered a little if old
Cartouche had entered a charge against
me; I remembered the furtive watchful-
ness of the old man's eyes at the funeral.
Presently Serena's voice sounded — far
away and reproachful.
“I'm awfully sorry, John," she said
plaintively, “but Gilette Lavaur told me
that I would simply have to run away with
you; that otherwise you would not budge.
So, I'm eloping to meet Bentinck.”
“ Lavaur has not treated me fairly,” I
retorted choking with anger; “ he has
made a fool of me, he and you together!
Do you think I like running like a crim-
inal? I shall return by the next boat.”
96


ON THE BOAT
“Goodness!” she said, “ you must have
a confiding mind. Before I'd throw my-
self into the arms of French justice after
the Dreyfus case! Besides, what use is
it, John? You can't prove anything — I
defy you to — and there is the poison.”
I turned on her hotly. “I should like
to ask, madam, if you think I put it
there?"
“I think I should — were I the Prefect
of Police,” she replied, with extreme com-
posure.
“ Thank you, Lady Bentinck," I replied,
sternly sarcastic.
“ You know very well that I don't be-
lieve it, John,” she said easily, “ we might
as well shake hands."
But I ignored her overtures. The shock
of being considered a murder suspect was
too much for my equanimity.
“I shall return and face the affair," I
said bitterly, “ although, of course, this
will look like flight.”
“ You are a great goose,” she replied;
“ what good will you do? You have no
one's word but your own and no one knows
you there or your standing at home.
There's only one hope, John Brinton, and
97


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
that is to solve the mystery, and Lavaur
is going to try to do it.”
“I am greatly beholden to Lavaur," I
said uncharitably.
“Well, I think we all ought to be," she
remarked, trying to steady herself by the
rail, for the ship was rolling now in a
deep trough of the sea. “Do you know
really I think you're unkind not to even
offer me your arm on this slippery spot.”
“I should think you would be shy of
my help," I replied ungraciously.
“You are quite shameful!" she said
hotly. “Haven't I shown my faith? I
oughtn't to have told you, but I couldn't
help it-I couldn't hold my tongue, I
never can. Bentinck says so.”
This was so like the old Serena that I
laughed — a little bitterly though — and
gave her my arm. She took it, comfort-
ably reassured. No one believed in Lady
Serena more than Lady Serena.
“You know really, John, I have a
horror of circumstantial evidence," she
remarked confidentially. “I am sure that
lots and lots of poor creatures have been
hung on false charges, and it must be so ex-
ceedingly unpleasant to be hung any way,
98


ON THE BOAT
that it seems as if we ought to be sure about
it and hang the right man. As for French
courts, too, I may be very unjust and Eng-
lish, but I fear I don't believe in them —
not very much. The Dreyfus business
shook my faith. I thought I was doing a
great thing to keep you out of the whole
affair, if I could, and see what thanks I
get!"
“My dear Lady Serena," I replied,
“ you do not see things from a man's point
of view.”
"No, thank heaven, I don't!” she ex-
claimed comfortably, “ a woman's is so
much easier always. I suppose it's a point
of honor with you to go back and get ar-
rested, so as to prove that you ought never
to have been suspected. Good gracious,
how stupid and awkward that is, when all
you have to do is to keep away altogether
until they settle who did it. Nothing in the
world could be more simple.”
“ Nor more cowardly," I remarked
sharply.
She shrugged her shoulders. “Caution
is the better part of valor," she remarked
tritely; “ Lavaur and I talked it over —
you remember that time we were at tea in
99


ON THE BOAT
change of mind in regard to his will though,
on the very eve of his death."
“It's weird, isn't it?" she agreed, and
then she sighed; “ dear me, what will Ben-
tinck say? There is so much wanting
about the estates and I so wanted to do
the right thing and bring a nice dot. To
think that I went journeying all the way to
Paris to talk to my uncle about it and he
immediately got himself murdered! It is
positively gruesome! Oh, don't let us talk
about it!" she cried and turned away.
We began to walk again, the wind in our
faces.
“ My hair's all torn up,” she remarked
cheerfully irrelevant;" I should retire for
repairs if I could get them, but Shane's
on her back; she always is — all the way
over, poor wretch.”
But in spite of her flippancy, she could
not restore our previous cheerfulness. My
mind was busy with the ugly problem. I
could not imagine why I had not seen the
full significance of the affair. To lie under
the suspicion of murder was sufficiently
hideous to excuse my silence, but Lady Se-
rena was not minded to let me escape her.
101


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
As we approached Dover she asked me
what I intended to do?
“Go back by the next boat," I replied
firmly.
“ And what is to become of me?" she
asked pointedly; “ you brought me over
and Bentinck doesn't expect me; I doubt
if he is in London. I expect you to escort
me down to Dorsetshire.”
“Good heavens, Lady Serena,” I pro-
tested, with more impatience than gallan-
try, “ don't be unreasonable. Can't you
see that a man mustn't run away from such
a charge?”
“But it isn't a charge yet,” she said
cheerfully," and I'm your charge at pres-
ent. You've got to take care of me, John;
I'm a helpless female and I appeal to your
chivalry."
“ If I take you down there it will not
keep me from going back," I said doggedly.
“Oh, very well,” she assented sweetly,
“ if you are possessed with a desire to run
into the arms of a spike moustached gen-
darme - go! But at least, take me home."
I was never nearer to anger at Lady
Serena than at that moment. Her indif-
ference to my feelings and her obstinacy
102


ON THE BOAT
moved me to sore displeasure, but, in a
way, I was responsible for her until she
was safely lodged in London and I disem-
barked therefore in no very good humor.
Shane was following us with the bags
and bundles and I was piloting Lady Se-
rena to a cab when she suddenly wheeled
around, and giving me a light push into
the shadow, avoided a lamp on the dock.
" What is it?" I demanded, rather
brusquely.
“Sh!" she whispered, and then began
to laugh softly, “it isn't a gendarme,”
she explained, “but my cousin, Andy
Schenck. There he goes — he is going
over tonight. I didn't want to see him —
I couldn't shake hands with him — not to-
night!"
103


CHAPTER VIII
THE WOMAN WITH THE RED HAT
Lord Bentinck met us at Charing Cross,
which convinced me that Serena had tele-
graphed him in spite of her protests to
the contrary. She was as full of little
wiles as ever, it seemed, and as determined
to gain her ends.
I had only seen Bentinck once or twice
at the time of his marriage, and had viewed
him then with more or less prejudiced eyes
as a titled Englishman in pursuit of an
American fortune. I confess to being
agreeably surprised when I saw him meet
his wife at the station. He had become
the typical, broad-shouldered, florid faced
Briton, rather heavy in build and expres-
sion, but he had an honest pleasant eye
and a frank smile which did not entirely
disappear even at Lady Serena's peculiar
greeting.
" Oh, Tommy," she said, “ we're
ruined.”
“I dare say,” he replied, with a laugh,
104


THE WOMAN WITH THE RED HAT
“ your uncle was capable of it — quite;
I always said so, Rena."
"You're exactly like a woman, Tom-
my," she retorted, frowning, “ you delight
in your “ I told you sos.' But we're going
to break the will."
" Oh, nonsense,” said Bentinck comfort-
ably, “ suits in chancery are no good;"
then he looked at me again and his wife
remembered.
6. Good gracious," she said, “ it's Jack
Brinton—I thought you knew each
other.”
Bentinck shook hands stiffly, but his
smile was friendly. He was in fact a dull,
easy-going fellow.
“You'll come on up to the Albemarle,
of course?” he said.
“Yes,” put in Lady Serena promptly;
“ he takes dinner with us."
It seemed useless to protest at the mo-
ment and I went to the hotel with them, but
more in the hope of finding a dispatch from
Paris than with any thought of dining with
them. However, there was nothing at the
office and Lord Bentinck pressed me to
join them at table. He had ordered a
heavy meal and champagne. I saw no
105


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
signs of retrenchment, though Lady Se-
rena had declared it necessary, and she
looked quite content and smiling, her fair
hair much curled and puffed and a color
in her cheeks. She had evidently told her
husband the particulars of the will and he
was frankly disappointed.
“ He was a mean old duffer,” he re-
marked, “and he certainly played Rena
a bad trick. We ought to have known bet-
ter than to trust to his generosity.”
“ We have to trust somebody," said Se-
rena plaintively, “ though I'm afraid no-
body will trust us any more — not even the
Jews, Tommy; we've banked too much on
uncle's fortune."
He frowned, looking down at his cham-
pagne glass.
“Oh, hang it all!” he said.
“Do!” she said, cheering up at once;
"I hate to be so sordid. Besides, it's a
duty to cheer up John Brinton.”
Lord Bentinck turned a slow and delib-
erate regard upon me and I felt the blood
burning in my face.
“I can bear up, Lady Serena,” I said
stiffly.
She looked at me a moment with some-
106


THE WOMAN WITH THE RED HAT
thing like sympathy and then she began to
laugh. Bentinck, meanwhile, glanced from
one to the other.
" What on earth is it?” he asked
blankly.
Lady Serena dispatched our attendant
for some cake.
“ John Brinton is suspected of murder,
Tommy,” she explained sweetly.
“Good heavens!” exclaimed Lord Ben-
tinck, leaning back in his chair.
I could have shaken Serena, but she
never looked prettier in her life, or more
gayly at ease.
“ It's quite true," I said, replying to
the interrogation in the Englishman's eyes.
“ 'Pon my soul!” he said, “how very
extraordinary," and he raised his eye-glass
and viewed me very much as I have seen
the little boy at the show view the trick
elephant.
" The circumstantial evidence is all
against me,” I went on maliciously, “ yet
I was stupid enough not to know that I
was suspected until Lady Bentinck told ·
me. I'm not a desirable guest at supper
for they may send after me at any mo-
ment."
107


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
" Nonsense!” said Lord Bentinck
warmly, “ let me assure you, sir, that I
don't believe a word of it," and he held
out his hand.
Serena giggled wickedly.
“ Tommy, dear, it isn't a bit necessary
to be heroic,” she said, “ we none of us
believe it, and he's going to help us break
the will. He has the draft of the original
one with such a lovely provision for me!”
"I can't follow you,” said Bentinck
blankly; “ you're always off like a kite,
Rena, and all I can do is to hold on to the
string, and I'm not always sure I do that."
This was so pathetic that Serena only
laughed the more. But I proceeded to tell
him about the two wills, although I did not
feel that she deserved my help at the ex-
planation. He was at once interested and
showed to some advantage. He did not
want to involve his wife in a long and ex-
pensive suit unless his cause was just. I
saw that he was slow but absolutely honest
even in his mercenary proclivities. He
needed money as frankly as he lacked it.
He was clay in Serena's hands and she
knew it, but was far too diplomatic to let
him realize it, and she managed him as
108


THE WOMAN WITH THE RED HAT
skillfully as any general ever maneuvered
an army. I could imagine that he made
her a very good husband and that his heavy
traits balanced her frivolities.
We sat a long while talking it over, so
long, in fact, that I began to think of de-
laying my return until tomorrow. But be-
fore we left the table a dispatch came from
Lavaur. It was in the nature of a sur-
prise.
" Cartouche arrested, charged with
crime,” it ran; “ poison paper found on
him. Get detective to find out at once who
bought the poison in a red envelope at
Dane's, 34 Villiers Street, Strand, Febru-
ary second.”
I thrust the paper into my pocket with-
out explaining its contents to the Bentincks.
It was a weak revenge, no doubt, on Lady
Serena, for I saw that she was consumed
with curiosity, especially when I announced
my intention of staying over until the next
day.
" What a concession to common sense,”
she remarked.
“ That means to your convictions,
doesn't it?" I replied, still ruffled.
Lord Bentinck looked puzzled. He rep-
109


THE WOMAN WITH THE RED HAT
Serena's frivolity was almost brutal. I
felt that I had a grievance. Yet, when I
thought it over, it was simple enough. I
should have seen it if I had been an ob-
server instead of an actor. I had been
there in the house, I had tasted the same
wine, my glass was beside his, I was the
last person outside the household who had
been with him, I was mixed up in his law-
suits, I had executed his will and was his
executor. They might easily imagine a
motive where none existed and then it be-
came a strong case against me, as strong,
at least, as that against the servants. The
marvel was that I had not been at once ar-
rested and then I remembered Lavaur's
interviewing the Maire, and his evident
activity, and I suspected that he had turned
the tide of suspicion into other channels.
My course was clear, however; I should
go back and face it out.
The arrest of Cartouche did not convince
me; I believed in the old man's innocence,
though it seemed that he had doubted mine.
It was true that his suspicions might have
been a blind, a means of defending himself.
That would have been an obvious argu-
ment, but still I scouted the idea. He had
111


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
nothing to gain and much to lose; his place
was more to him a year than the pittance
under the will. And he could not have
changed the will and in that strange docu-
ment, I was convinced, lay the key to the
secret.
With these complex emotions, I tossed
about all night on a sleepless pillow and
was glad to see the day dawn.
The Scotland Yard man arrived at seven
o'clock, and I sent for him to come up to
my room. His name was James Short and
it was not a misapplied cognomen, for he
was short of stature though astute. I gave
him Lavaur's dispatch and briefly outlined
the case. He sat down beside the window
and listened to me with much the air of a
terrier scenting a hot trail, but he said lit-
tle beyond promising to let me have the
desired information by noon that day.
" You anticipate no trouble then?" I
remarked dryly, “ though I think these
things are usually well covered over.".
“ There'll be a weak spot somewhere,
sir," he said, “ and it's probably here.
They didn't expect this side would be
traced.”
112


THE WOMAN WITH THE RED HAT
“But after all my friend may have made
a mistake,” I suggested.
“ Possibly," he admitted," but the pois-
on was bought. The French police should
know by this time if it was bought in
Paris."
“ That is true," I replied, “ yet there
are ways of evading all vigilance.”
He pursed up his lips and said no more,
but went off with an alert face.
I took my coffee and chop alone. Lady
Serena was not likely to be down until noon
and I saw nothing of Lord Bentinck. I
went out and bought a French paper and
read a brief account of the arrest of Car-
touche, who was charged with putting the
poison in his master's wine; there were no
particulars. I took a cab and drove down
to the Strand looking at the shops; I want-
ed to find the chemist at 34 Villiers Street.
Presently we drove past it; it was not a
very large shop and quite usual in its ap-
pearance and I decided not to go in. I
had just consulted my watch and finding
that it was nearing noon, I gave the cabman
orders to drive back to the hotel. As we
turned out of the street, I noticed an omni-
113


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
bus stopping at the crossing for a woman
to climb down from the top seat. She was
short and stout and dressed in a dark blue
suit that was short enough to give an
amusing view of a substantial pair of legs
and large feet. I noticed that she had
blonde hair and wore a large red hat.
Afterwards it seemed strange that all these
details arrested my attention, for she was
very plain and much freckled; decidedly
a daughter of the people.
When I got back to the hotel I found
Short waiting for me and he handed in his
report. It was brief; the poison in one
paper, placed in a red envelope marked
“ poison,” was sold on a doctor's prescrip-
tion – Dr. Henry Deane, 28 Clarges
Street,- to a woman who gave her name
as Mrs. Patty Atkins, No. 12 Talbot Road,
Bayswater. She was short and stout, face
broad and freckled, hair yellow, frock blue
and hat red, wore dotted face veil. Dr.
Henry Deane had left that number when
the detective called, address unknown. No
such person as Mrs. Patty Atkins had ever
been at No. 12 Talbot Road. So far there
was no trail.
I laid down the paper.
114


THE WOMAN WITH THE RED HAT
“I saw the woman today,” I said, and
described the spot where she was descend-
ing from the omnibus.
Short's face flushed.
“ We'll get her then, sir,” he said at
once.
" Very well," I replied, “I am going
back to Paris tonight, can you report by
six ? »
“ By five o'clock, sir," he said.
“ And you'll find the woman?” I asked
dryly.
. If she's in London, sir.".
I looked at my watch. “ Very well," I
replied, “ that will do."
He went out apparently confident and I
ordered my lunch. For my own part, I
had grave doubts of his easy success. A
crime is usually concealed as well as its
perpetrators can manage to conceal it, and
I was sure that these criminals, who ever
they were, were clever enough to hide their
tracks with some care. I was therefore
not surprised when the time passed and
the detective failed to report.
It was half past five that evening and I
had already ordered a cab to take me to
Charing Cross station when Short made
115


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
Feeling bad blundeving that
his appearance. He was plainly disgrun-
tled by an unexpected defeat. He had
traced the woman with the red hat from
the omnibus at the corner of Villiers Street
to a lunch room where she got a substantial
meal and then took a two-wheeler to Pad-
dington. She took a train to Sydenham,
got off at that station and there all trail
was lost. He asked for two days to take
it up himself, believing that the rural de-
tectives had blundered and lost the clew.
Feeling confident that Lavaur had some
serious reason for tracing this woman, I
instructed Short to proceed and report to
me at Paris. I had hardly done so when
I received a second dispatch from Lavaur.
“ Find purchaser of poison. Very im-
portant."
Having engaged Short to hunt the matter
further and given him my Paris address,
I was just leaving the hotel when Lady
Serena appeared, swathed in sables and
wearing a large red hat. Seeing my port-
manteau, she shook a reproachful finger.
“ Unreasonable man,” she said, “ going
back to trifle with fate in spite of your
friends. Don't say that I didn't warn you.
116


THE WOMAN WITH THE RED HAT
Who are you tracing now? Bentinck told
me you had a Scotland Yard man.”
I could not forbear a grim smile at her
expense.
“ Acting under instructions from Paris,
we are hunting the lady with the red hat,”
I replied pointedly.
“Good gracious!” replied Lady Serena,
quite unmoved, “ you don't mean that you
have become a bill collector, John? It's a
love of a hat and I got it on credit. I
shouldn't be wearing red if Uncle Lloyd
had treated me well, but as it is - it's a
positive relief to do something flagrant.
Of course, you didn't mean that about hunt-
ing a lady with a red hat."
“But I did," I replied, " and I must be
off; time and trains wait for no man. I bid
your ladyship adieu!” and I started down
the steps.
" Wait!" she cried; “ wait — tell me
about the woman!"
“I'll report from Paris," I called back
and made for the cab.
She stood at the top of the steps watch-
ing me, and I could see that she was vexed
at my flight, for she did not smile when I
raised my hat as I drove off.
117


SEARCHING FOR CLEWS
filed away among my papers, but it had not
yet reached Paris.
I was engaged with these thoughts, and
had scarcely removed the stains of travel
when Lavaur was announced. He fol-
lowed the attendant up to my room and
came in with the inevitable cigarette be-
tween his fingers, although it was not, at
the moment, lighted. I charged him at
once with having aided and abetted Lady
Serena in making me run away from Paris.
He laughed and searching in his pockets
for a match, lighted his cigarette.
“My dear fellow,” he said, “ it looked
pretty black for you just then and I didn't
want the police to see it too clearly. Now
that old fool Cartouche has got himself into
the meshes hard and fast and you are not
likely to be troubled.”
" How in the world did it come about?"
I asked.
“ Simply enough, if he tells the truth,”
replied Lavaur calmly;" he says he picked
up the paper on the cabinet the morning
after the doctor's death and then did not
dare to produce it for fear of being accused.
Then — like a confounded fool — he car-
ries it around until he is searched. Bien,
119


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
the police pounce at once! There you have
it.”
" And the envelope with the Villiers
Street address ?”
His eyes brightened and he pulled out a
fragment of soiled red paper and spread it
carefully out on the table between us. It
was much rubbed and defaced and partially
torn away.
ane's
worbellins, Ste
ondon.
“I don't make much of that,” I said.
He smiled and taking out a piece of pa-
per and a pencil, he rapidly drew the
square of the envelope and filled in the
letters.
Jane's
34 Villiers, Strand, London
120


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
replied;“ Cartouche may be in some one's
pay. My theory is, Brinton, that this may
be a case of conspiracy to kill Lloyd and
get the estate.”
" Then you believe that Andrew Schenck
is involved, for he is the beneficiary."
“ He is the apparent beneficiary,” re-
plied Lavaur,“ but there are such things
as levying blackmail, etc., on an heir, and
I suspect that Schenck would be an easy
victim for such sharpers."
“ But the motive?" I said skeptically.
" That is it,” he retorted, “I'm looking
for the motive and the female — it may be
the woman with the red hat. Lady Serena
admits two visits only to the house, and the
woman, Buyse, admits three; that leaves
two other visits to be accounted for. By
the way, Brinton, can you go with me at
once? I want to make a call on the rue
de la Chausée d'Antin."
" On whom?" I inquired, wondering a
little at his interest in the case.
“ On Mrs. Buyse," he said briefly, throw-
ing his cigarette into the fire.
" You want to pin her down to the num-
ber of visits?” I asked, ready to comply
if we were likely to gain anything.
122


SEARCHING FOR CLEWS
He nodded, and we made our way to the
elevator together. It was during our drive
to the rue de la Chaussée d'Antin that I
remarked upon my surprise at his contin-
ued interest in the case.
He flushed and laughed a little.
“I tell you what it is,” he said, “ at first
I was interested on your account; now, I
believe that old Frenchman is innocent, but
they'll hang him unless we can prove him
so. Moreover, I have always fancied I had
the gift for detective work; it's one of my
fads."
"You have a good many," I comment-
ed dryly.
"To be sure," he answered good hu-
moredly, “ I was born with them.”
As he spoke, the cab drew up at the door
of an unpretentious, old-fashioned shop on
the rue de la Chaussée d'Antin. There
was a display of notions and female luxu-
ries in the window below, and above there
was a small pension kept, as it proved, by
one Luce Sapeurs, former maid to Mrs. Mc-
Henry, former milliner, present petty
shopkeeper and gossip. In reply to our
inquiries, she said that Mrs. Buyse was out
for the moment but would soon return if
123


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
messieurs would wait. Lavaur expressed
our willingness to wait ten minutes and she
showed us through her shop into a little
back room, where she asked us to be seated.
The shop bell ringing immediately to an-
nounce a customer, she bustled out to at-
tend her counter and left us to our own
devices. We were in a small room lighted
by only one window on an alley and fur-
nished with a sofa, two chairs, a writing
table and a small desk, where Mlle. Sapeurs
evidently kept her accounts. From this, a
door opened into her bedroom and a cur-
tain was drawn partially across it, almost
concealing the small white bed and high
bureau. A small porte-folio lay open on
the table and as we waited Lavaur sat look-
ing at it, at first with slight attention and
then with that keen look that sometimes
flashed across his face like a revelation of
some latent consciousness. We exchanged
only a few words because our conversation
could be overheard in the shop and also by
any one who chanced to be in the hall. I
asked no questions, therefore, when I saw
Lavaur twisting and turning the blotter in
the porte-folio and finally making notes
from it. He was so intent upon it that he
124


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
once; “ I went three times. And I'm sor-
ry that I didn't ask at first for help for
Mattie, but I kind of hated to — he was
always so open-handed, and indeed, Mr.
Brinton, I'm no beggar.”
“I understand that, Mrs. Buyse," I
said, “ but you are positive that you went
there three times? Very good, that is all
we wanted to know, is it not?” I added,
referring to Lavaur.
He nodded and rose.
She stood looking at us, her hands folded
and her pose that of a highly respectful
and respectable servant.
“Is there going to be much trouble,
sir?” she asked anxiously, directing her
question to me.
"Well, Cartouche is in trouble, certain-
ly," I replied, " and there will be a lawsuit
about the will."
She seemed much concerned.
“ Indeed, I'm sorry," she said, “ on Mr.
Schenck's account — and Miss Holland's."
“ But Miss Holland is not especially ben-
efited by this will," I remarked, as we
moved toward the door.
“I'm told she is to marry Mr. Andy,”
she said.
126


SEARCHING FOR CLEWS
“ Poor soul!” I commented, shrugging
my shoulders.
The woman gave me a quick look, imme-
diately on the defensive.
“ Mr. Andy's more sinned against than
sinning, sir,” she said stoutly; “ he's al-
ways been a kind-hearted young gentle-
man.”
“I hope he'll remember you, Mrs.
Buyse," I replied dryly; “ he ought to —
if he gets this immense sum.”
“I'm not expecting that he'd do more
than Dr. Lloyd has," she responded hum-
bly;“ I'm right thankful.”
" That's right, Mrs. Buyse, be humble
and be grateful,” said Lavaur; “ follow
the example of the immortal Uriah.”
She looked at him completely puzzled,
and we made our way out, Mlle. Sapeurs
courtesying as we passed through the shop.
She was a small woman with a yellow face
and a curiously hooked nose — like the
beak of a parrot.
We got into the cab and Lavaur gave an
address to the driver.
“ 24 rue Taitbout," he said.
66 And wherefore?” I asked, mildly sur-
prised.
127


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
“ De grâce," he replied, lighting a cigar-
ette,“ I do not know. I found the address
on a blotter and I am siezed with an uncon-
trollable desire to meet a gentleman who
dwells at No. 24 rue Taitbout.”
“If we were at home," I remarked
thoughtfully, “I fancy I should petition
the court for a commission of lunacy to in-
quire into the mental state of Charles Gi-
lette Marie Lavaur.”
“Ah," he replied dreamily, “ if I had
but the brains, the sagacity, the foresight,
the relentless enthusiasm of the woman
with the platter face!”
“It is rather a blessing," I replied
“ that Mrs. Buyse has not read Dickens or
you would scarcely have escaped with a
whole skin.”
“My dear Jack," he replied, with a grin,
“ you can always say hateful things with
impunity if you have a sufficient amount
of cheek.”
I was forced to admit the truth of this
remark and then mildly suggested that I
should like to know the reason of our pur-
suit of some unknown individual on the rue
Taitbout. He laughed a little.
“ We are going to see one Henry Persi-
128


SEARCHING FOR CLEWS
fal,” he replied; “ Mrs. Buyse has been
writing to him recently and I am consumed
to have the honor of his acquaintance."
" You found this all out on the blotter”
I remarked, a little scornful of his detective
work.
" Precisely," he replied, with a shrug,
“ it was writ upon the blotter. A la bonne
heure — I go for the man, but I am look-
ing for the woman — the woman with the
red hat.”
" Who was not Mrs. Buyse,” I said.
“Who was not Mrs. Buyse," he replied,
“ unless she has found the elixir of youth
and the secret of being in two places at
once. Ah,” he added, “ here we are —
now for an adventure.”
As he spoke, the cab stopped at No. 24
rue Taitbout and we looked up at a plain
straight faced Parisian house of the old
style, with decorously drawn blinds.
129


CHAPTER X
NUMBER TWENTY-FOUR RUE TAITBOUT
It was sometime before the bell was an-
swered at the house on the rue Taitbout,
and while we waited on the steps, Lavaur
looked up from his note-book which he had
been consulting.
"By the way, Brinton,” he asked care-
lessly,“ did Lady Serena tell you when she
bought her red hat?”
“ No, but I concluded that it was a re-
cent purchase," I replied, “ from her ref-
erence to it in regard to Dr. Lloyd's
death."
“ It may be quite important later for her
to prove that,” he said, putting up his note-
book.
“I fancy that the milliner's bill will do
that," I retorted, with a smile; “ all I have
to advise you is not to tell Lady Serena
that she might be confused with the person
answering the description of the purchaser
of the poison."
He shrugged his shoulders. “I shall
130


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
• Precisely, madame,” said Lavaur
sweetly, “ number — number —? Let me
see — I used to know that address —"
But she would go no further; she pro-
tested that she did not know and I thought
it probable that she told the truth. How-
ever, my indefatigable friend was by no
means done with her. He had begun to
win his way by that charm of manner that
made him popular everywhere, and he had
gradually induced her to open her door
wider and listen to him without the sus-
picion she had at first exhibited.
“You have not yet rented Persifal's
rooms,” he said.
“No, monsieur, but” she hesitated,
eyeing me with more hostility than the
arch conspirator.
“I should like to see them, madame,”
said Lavaur, stepping jauntily across the
threshold; “ your house has an inviting
and immaculate appearance.”
This flattery went to her heart. She no
longer demurred but showed us into the
house. Persifal's rooms were in the rear
and she opened them for our inspection,
raising the shades and pushing aside the
132


NO. 24 RUE TAITBOUT
spotless white muslin curtains. Her
house was plainly furnished but with some
taste, and it really deserved Lavaur's
eulogium. The windows looked out on to
a small, high walled garden and over that
at the backs of the houses on the rue Fon-
taine St. Georges. I stood looking out
while my companion asked about the price
of the rooms and other particulars, evi-
dently designing to disarm madame's sus-
picions of our errand. While he was
talking, the bell rang and she went out
rather reluctantly, I thought, to answer it.
Left alone, Lavaur began at once to ex-
amine the rooms minutely.
" When will you be done with this
farce?" I asked grimly; " the woman has
set her house in order and garnished it.
What could you find in the wake of a broom
and a dustpan?"
He smiled and went on without reply-
ing. He looked at everything and finally
opened the empty bureau drawers a little
way, peering in them one by one. I began
to grow hot; police methods are well
enough in their place but there is a limit
to what belongs to a gentleman. But he
133


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
ignored my movement toward the door and
in the very bottom drawer he found a half
sheet of paper.
“Look here, Gilette, drop that!" I said
sternly; “ this passes — "
But I was interrupted by the frou-frou
of madame's skirts in the hall and he
coolly thrust his trophy into his pocket.
She came in looking from one to the
other with rather an anxious face.
“Is monsieur pleased ? ” she demanded
politely.
“I will let you know — inside the week
- if I decide to take these rooms,” re-
plied Lavaur cheerfully, and compli-
mented her upon their appearance.
She was so pleased that she accom-
panied us to the street door, expressing
the hope that monsieur would decide to
take the apartments. She had just had
another offer but she would wait a few
days. He thanked her with genial cor-
diality and frisked off with a light heart
while I followed with the feelings and, no
doubt, the air of a criminal, for she gazed
narrowly at me with evident dislike.
When we were in the cab I turned upon
Lavaur.
134


NO. 24 RUE TAITBOUT
it in his pocket again. I shrugged my
shoulders.
“ As you please,” I said, “ but, at least,
where you steal I shall not be your
* fence.'”
“My dear Brinton, I shouldn't dream
of employing you,” he retorted, “ you are
too clumsy. By the way, I haven't told
you that I have succeeded in leasing
Lloyd's house, but I had to fight for it, and
who do you suppose wanted it?"
I shook my head. “Can't imagine," I
said; “ people are usually superstitious
about such houses. I had no idea you
would have any difficulty in securing it.”.
“ Well, I did," said he," and my rival
was an American, old Hez Portman of
Lynn.”
I was thoroughly surprised.
“This is singular," I said, “ in view of
the whole case. Do you know about the
lawsuit for the hundreth acre?”
“I know that Lloyd had a land lawsuit,
yes,” Gilette replied, “ but nothing more
- if I did know, I've forgotten."
“Well, I'll tell you,” I said, lighting my
cigar at his cigarette; “ the two farms ad-
join each other in Essex County, not far
137


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
from Lynn. They were bought respec-
tively by Lloyd's father and this Port-
man's mother. Dr. Lloyd — about thirty
years ago — had a new survey made of his
land and found that his line had been in-
vaded by his neighbor and promptly moved
his fence into the hundredth acre. It
seems that on that side he had previously
had the whole of the ninety-nine acres and
a portion of the hundredth. By the new
survey he had the whole of the hundredth;
he found that it lay within his father's
original purchase. Hez Portman immedi-
ately protested and disputed the new sur-
vey, producing the original deed to his
mother from the former owners of the
land. There has been a quarrel ever since
and a suit for years, appealed and ap-
pealed. It's going to the Supreme Court
now on Lloyd's appeal, and old Portman
is as bitter about that acre as if it were his
only one; but why he should want to hire
Lloyd's house — or rather the house in
which Lloyd was murdered -I cannot
imagine. Perhaps, it is a gruesome joy in
his enemy's death."
Lavaur whistled softly; he had been lis-
138


NO. 24 RUE TAITBOUT
tening intently and now he began to rub
his hands gently.
“ This grows really delightful,” he re-
marked. “I almost wish I'd let him have
it. À la bonne heure, who's that — do I
dimly remember that portly figure?”
We were nearing my quarters and there
on the steps — as large as life — stood old
Hez Portman.
“ The plot thickens," I said.
As I spoke the cab stopped and no
sooner did I step to the pavement than
Hez Portman accosted me.
“ This is Mr. John Brinton, I think?"
he said stiffly.
“ The same," I replied coldly; at the
moment I actually disliked the man.
“A word with you," he said, with that
air which belongs to business success — of
being accustomed to consideration.
I hesitated, but Lavaur gave me a warn-
ing touch.
* Very well,” I said, “ you will step this
way, Mr. Portman," and I led him into a
retired corner of the reading-room, leav-
ing Lavaur in the lobby.
Portman seated himself opposite to me
139


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
others. I'm willing to make certain con-
cessions if they'll make others and get up
a compromise.”
“ It strikes me, Mr. Portman, that your
offer is an admission of weakness," I said,
with a sardonic grin. “ It is not usual for
the stronger side to offer to compromise."
“ Haven't I won out on the last appeal,
young man?" he said sharply, bending his
brows and scowling fiercely at me.
" What do you want to stand out for and
run the estate in any deeper?”
“I rather think the estate can stand
it," I retorted coolly. “In my opinion,
Dr. Lloyd thought more of that hundredth
acre than he did of the other ninety and
nine."
“ Lloyd was a blasted fool!” he ex-
claimed wrathfully. He hadn't any
more right to that hundredth acre than a
hen has to a duck's egg. I see well
enough that you are an obstinate lawyer,
and you don't care how it goes as long as
you get your money out of it.”
“If that is all you have to say, Mr.
Portman, we may as well close the inter-
view,” I said coldly.
142


NO. 24 RUE TAITBOUT
He flushed darkly and his strong hands
gripped the table.
“You've got to listen to me, Brinton,"
he said angrily. “I'm offering your cli-
ents a compromise and you've got to at-
tend to their business.”
"I am not at all sure that I shall con-
tinue to represent the estate,” I said,
rising. “I refer you to Mr. Andrew
Schenck."
He did not rise but sat looking at me
warily, his pugnacious face full of fight.
“Do you mean to say that it's true —
what I've read in the papers —" he said,
“ that Andy Schenck's got the whole out-
fit and cheated those girls?”
"The terms of the will have been pub-
lished, I believe," I replied, taking out a
cigar and clipping the end.
“ By Jove!” he ejaculated, and rose,
too, his face deeply flushed; “I reckon I
can handle Andy Schenck without gloves
and get him in a corner at that! Oh, I've
got him hard and fast! I rather fancy
that he'll compromise double quick, if I
want him to. Can you give him a mes-
sage?"
143


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
I did not reply at once and almost at
the moment a servant brought me a card.
“ The gentleman is waiting in the lobby,
m'sieur," he said.
I took up the little square of pasteboard
and looked at it, conscious that old Hez
Portman was watching every movement
with strange eagerness, and I was certain
he detected my displeasure at reading the
name of my visitor.
It was Andrew Schenck.
I handed the card to Portman. “You
may see him now if you wish,” I said, with
a shrug; “I can forego the honor for a
while.”
But he was no longer eager. His man-
ner relaxed; he gave me a look that was
intended to convey a cunning satisfaction
and he picked up his tall silk hat.
“ You can write me when you have con-
sidered my offer,” he said, throwing a
card with his address on it on the table.
“I ran over for a few months for my
health and I ain't going back up to Boston
until — things get shaped.”
144


CHAPTER XI
ANDREW SCHENCK
Leaving one strange visitor in the read-
ing-room, I went out to meet another in the
lobby. I had no desire to see Schenck;
I had never liked him and his presence
now was most unwelcome. I knew that I
was likely to be one of the chief actors in
the suit that was to come to break the will,
and that he would therefore soon regard
me as an enemy, however he might think
of me now. In point of fact, he was so
peculiar a character that I had never been
able to quite make him out. He had
plenty of ability, but he never used it in
the right direction, and spent much time
in wasting his talents. He was a dandy
in dress and I found him in the lobby at-
tired in a long gray overcoat with a fur
collar and a broad band of crape on his
left arm and crape half way up his silk
hat. He had always had a colorless com-
plexion and very light eyes, but his hair
145


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
was intensely black. There was not a
trace of resemblance to any of the Lloyds
in his coarse, irregular features, though
the likeness was strong in that family.
He greeted me with an indifference that
was either real or exceedingly well feigned,
and, as I did not invite him to my rooms,
we went into the reading-room, just miss-
ing old Portman as we entered the door.
Schenck came to the point at once.
“ Gibbs has told me about the will,” he
said, " and about your position. I sup-
pose I ought to have sent him to you, but
I came myself. Of course, it's all non-
sense about the other will.”
He looked at me a little as if he intended
to intimidate me.
“I'm not prepared to say anything just
now, Mr. Schenck,” I said curtly; I had
not sat down nor asked him to be seated,
but he ignored that discourtesy.
" You might as well speak out," he said
flatly. " Gibbs told the whole thing. You
said it was not the will you witnessed or
drew — and yet the date is the same. I
know that my cousin Serena is set on hav-
ing the lion's share, but I can't see the use
of an expensive suit for nothing. I tell
146


ANDREW SCHENCK
you now, Brinton, I'll fight it to the last
ditch."
“To the hundredth acre?" I asked
coolly.
I was watching him at the time and could
have sworn that he turned pale.
“I wasn't aware that Serena was in-
terested in that,” he said sharply.
I was feeling in the dark but I seemed
to have touched a sore spot.
“How about Miss Holland?” I sug-
gested.
He faced me squarely and his eyes shone.
“ I'll take care of Miss Holland,” he
said defiantly.
“Am I to congratulate you?” I asked
indifferently.
He stared at me.“ We'll drop that,”
he said.
“Quite so," I agreed amiably; “I shall
know more when I see Miss Holland."
“ You're not her counsel,” he replied.
“I was commissioned by Dr. Lloyd to
see her," I said, “ and I have a great re-
spect for a dead man's wishes.”
“ You can spare yourself all trouble
about her affairs,” he answered sullenly;
" she's going to marry me."
147


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
“ She's evidently a lady of taste," I said
ironically.
He looked at me quickly and frowned,
but it suited him to pass it over.
“You're giving Serena bad advice,
Brinton," he went on, “ it will be expense
for nothing. If she fights, I fight, but if
she lets things alone — there might be —
why, I'll be frank; I'm not really inclined
to be ungenerous; I'm willing to make a
suitable provision for her and that English
husband of hers. It would suit her inter-
ests better if you'd ask for a compromise
instead of flinging defiance at me.”
I laughed outright.
6. Haven't you come here to fling de-
fiance at us?” I asked.
" You've met my overtures with hos-
tility,” he replied, walking about among
the tables and staring angrily at the two
or three men who had strayed into the
room and picked up papers in the opposite
corner.
" I think you had better leave all this
to your lawyer," I remarked coolly;
“ you're not likely to handle it success-
fully.”
“I should think you'd be all the more
148


ANDREW SCHENCK
eager to make terms with me,” he replied.
I shrugged my shoulders.
“ It is only those who have a bad case
who are eager for a compromise,” I re-
torted.
“ There's no doubt about the strength
of my case," he replied sharply;" it can't
be assailed, but I'm willing to do some-
thing for Serena — if she listens to rea-
son, but I be hanged if I will if she follows
your lead, John Brinton.”
“ Thank you,” I said; “ if that is all,
Schenck, we understand each other and I
need not detain you longer, but let me ad-
vise you not to make any arrangements
with Mr. Hez Portman until this matter
of the will is definitely settled,” and with
this I went to the elevator and left him to
find his way out alone.
I went up to my room reflecting upon
some curious impressions. I could not
immediately imagine what there could be
between Hez Portman and Andy Schenck
which could make the latter afraid of the
former. Yet I had an idea that there
was something — and something definite
enough to dash Schenck's usual effrontery.
I had been on the stretch for some days
149


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
now and was thoroughly tired of the whole
painful affair, so it was anything but a
pleasant surprise to find Lavaur coolly
smoking his endless cigarettes in my
rooms. My face probably betrayed me,
for he smiled rather maliciously as I en-
tered.
“ Bear up, Jack," he said affably, “I
had another suggestion to make — so I
waited.”
“ There is a limit to all human endur-
ance," I replied, “ and I reached it just
now in an interview with Andrew
Schenck.”
He laughed. “I dodged him in the
lobby,” he said; “ I could not imagine his
errand.”
I told him and he whistled his delighted
surprise.
“My dear Jack," he said genially,
" the fellow knows he's got a weak case.
By the way, you've got a dispatch on your
table. Is it likely to be from Short?”
I opened it hastily; it was brief.
“ Woman with red hat took passage on
American Red Star liner, · City of New
York,' on Thursday; registered as Mrs.
Sarah Mattisby.”
150


ANDREW SCHENCK
Lavaur looked disappointed. “ The fool
let her slip,” he said, and then taking the
dispatch he read it carefully and pocketed
it. “By your leave, Jack,” he said cheer-
fully,“ and now - I want you to go with
me to see Cartouche.”
“ Certainly," I replied dryly;“ why not
the Emperor of China?”
“Just as you like.”
“ Are we to trace that red hat in New
York?" I asked.
He nodded. “If you can get a good
man."
“I shall have to consider it, and now I
suppose the immediate step is Cartouche.”
“After lunch," he replied coolly, and
proceeded to invite himself to lunch at my
expense with the greatest possible equa-
nimity.
While we were at table I suggested that
we had made but little progress in our at-
tempts to trace out the case and that it
looked to me like a closed problem.
“We know that the poison was bought
by a woman wearing a red hat, in a Lon-
don shop, a few days before the death of
Lloyd,” he said composedly.
“ We suppose so," I corrected dryly.
151


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
“Is there any absolute proof?”.
He shrugged his shoulders. “The en-
velope was in Lloyd's room, the poison in
his glass. Now, it's for us to find out how
they got there. It is not likely that he
accepted either the envelope or its contents
as a present from any one of his visitors.
It is still less probable that he employed
any one to purchase it for him. And the
fact that it was purchased in London — to
my mind — throws Cartouche out of the
case."
“I have never suspected Cartouche,”
I remarked.
“But I have,” he said, “ and there are
still possibilities — that he may have been
hired, etc., but they do not appeal strongly
to me. As for old Marie, she hasn't the
nerve — though poison cases are far more
probably traced to a woman than a man."
“ You mean that a woman hates to see
blood ?"
He nodded and rose from the table, hav-
ing finished a hearty meal in an incredi-
bly short time. For my part, I had no
appetite and had eaten nothing.
A few moments later we were driving
152


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
He stood, still holding the grate, but look-
ing down and he did not raise his eyes
when he replied.
“You know I am innocent, m'sieur," he
said pointedly.
“ I certainly believe you to be so, Car-
touche," I replied, and added, “or I should
not be here. I am determined that you
shall have good counsel for your defense."
Then he raised his eyes to give me a
quick, furtive glance.
“M'sieur is kind,” he said sullenly.
“ Cartouche,” struck in Lavaur,“ we
have succeeded in tracing the poison paper
to an English chemist and that will be of
service to you at your trial.”
" Perhaps you can also find out who
bought it, m'sieur," he replied, with some
bitterness. “I am a poor old man, with
few friends and it is not likely that they
will make much effort to save me.”
“ It was bought by a woman," I said,
" but as yet we do not know who she was.”
“ A woman?” he repeated slowly, giv-
ing me for the first time a keen, direct
look; “ a woman, m'sieur?”
“ Certainly, a woman," I replied stiffy.
“ Cartouche,” said Lavaur, “ you are
154


ANDREW SCHENCK
quite positive that you can recall nothing
more — which occurred during the day
previous to Dr. Lloyd's death?”
The old concierge shook his head.
" What is the use, m'sieur?” he said
sternly, “ there must be some one accused
- how easy to accuse a poor old man- of
no consequence! I have told all I know;
how I went out and bought the bottle of
medicine for my rheumatism. I was not
again absent. I let in Mr. Brinton, I let
him out; at that time I heard M. le Docteur
speak; he gave some orders and went back
to his room and drank the wine. I never
saw him alive again. It was all very sim-
ple, m'sieur.”
“I have taken the house, Cartouche,”
said Lavaur carelessly.
The old man stared at him, his jaw drop-
ping.
“ Sacré Vierge Marie!” he ejaculated,
and crossed himself devoutly “m'sieur
runs a great risk.”
" And why?" inquired my companion,
with great tranquillity.
“M'sieur must know,” replied the con-
cierge,“ that the spirits of the murdered
walk."
155


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
" Ah, then you are sure that Dr. Lloyd
was murdered?” I remarked quickly.
His face changed and he looked down
again; his hands tightened on the grate.
“M'sieur knows,” he said sullenly.
And we could draw no more from him.
In a few minutes therefore Lavaur closed
the interview and the guard conducted us
out of our stall through the long corridor
to the hall of observation which occupies
nearly the whole of the centre of the pris-
on. The formalities of the exit over, we
entered our cab and started back toward
the quays, both breathing more freely out
of the atmosphere of the jail.
“Poor old devil," I remarked, as I
looked out at the sunshine on the boulevart
and thought of the old bowed figure behind
the grate.
“ He means to accuse you at his trial,
Brinton," said Lavaur gravely.
“So I suspected," I replied coolly; "I
am not unprepared. Lady Serena broke
it to me none too gently. Poor old Car-
touche expects to put me in his place, but
• there's many a slip 'twixt the cup and the
lip.' Lavaur, he didn't want you in that
house."
156


CHAPTER XII
ANICE
The next morning brought me two let-
ters; one from Lady Serena announcing
that she and her husband would be in Paris
in a day or two to attend to the formalities
in regard to Lloyd's will, the other from
a Mrs. Charlotte Erckmann, an aunt on the
paternal side of Anice Holland. She
wrote from Meurice's and stated that she
and her niece had arrived there the day
before and that she desired to see me on
business by ten in the morning. This was
a complete surprise, for remembering Dr.
Lloyd's letter from these very people, I
could not imagine how they had raised the
money to come over at once. The whole
affair — the sudden death of Lloyd, the
eager arrival of the relatives who hoped
to batten on the estate, and the prepara-
tions for a pitched battle over the will —
put me painfully in mind of the rapidity
with which birds of prey gather over a car-
cass. I was not without some curiosity,
158


ANICE
however, about these people, especially
since Schenck's announcement that he in-
tended to marry the girl, so I determined
to go at once to the hotel, although it was
impossible to keep the appointment as I
had not received her letter until a quarter
of eleven.
It was about noon when I sent up my
card to Mrs. Erckmann. At the moment,
I remember that I was thinking of my
promise to Lloyd to go to see Anice Hol-
land, and I recollected, too, Lady Serena's
dread of this unknown relative. I had not
asked for the girl as I came in response
to the aunt's summons, and was not at all
sure that I should see her at this interview.
I had to wait some time before a message
came down asking me to Mrs. Erckmann's
private parlor. I went up in the elevator
with a little amused surprise at the ex-
travagance of a suite of rooms at Meu-
rice's, and wondering if the man Gibbs had
informed them of the terms of the will and
the probability of a suit.
Mrs. Erckmann's parlor was, however,
on a much more modest scale than Lady
Serena's had been, and I had hardly en-
tered it before the opposite door opened to
159


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
admit a young girl. My first impression
of Anice Holland that day was of a tall
slender young creature with a great deal
of brown hair and an upward tilt to the
chin. Fifteen minutes later I had accumu-
lated fifteen other impressions, each one
different from the other. She came
straight toward me, holding out her hand
with a perfectly charming and cheerful
smile.
“I know you didn't come to see me,”
she said, “but aunt is out and I am the
substitute.”
“But I did come to see you," I replied,
“I am under a promise to the late Dr.
Lloyd to see you as soon as possible.”
She gave me a quick look of surprise
which revealed the fact that her eyes were
of a peculiar dark gray and black lashed.
"I had no idea that my uncle cared a
rush about me,” she remarked, with great
candor, and then she laughed a little; “ he
certainly never showed any particular in-
terest in me.”
“That was because he did not know
you," I retorted, wondering greatly at the
preference that had always been shown
for the elder cousin.
160


ANICE
“ I think he never wanted to know me,”
she flashed back; “ I was a poor relation.
You remember what Charles Lamb says
about them?”
“Like your uncle, Charles Lamb did not
know you,” I said, with gallantry.
She drew a chair nearer the window and
waved her hand to a seat opposite.
“Tell me about Dr. Lloyd,” she said;
" did he really wish to see me?"
I felt some qualms of conscience at this
and evaded the issue.
“He was desirous of knowing something
of you and of your wish to study music,”
I said lamely.
She looked up at me, laughing a little
wickedly.
" That is the poorest little evasion,” she
said; “ he wanted to know if I was worth
paying for! But I want to tell you, Mr.
Brinton, that I never wrote to him about
it; it was my aunt. I had no wish to be
a beggar on his bounty. I'm afraid that
I felt intensely proud and hateful about it
all, and now they tell me that the poor
man was poisoned by his concierge. It is
very gruesome and I really feel very sorry.
I believe it is usual for the relatives to re-
161


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
joice over the prospect of inheriting the
property, but I hate it all.”
She had the fresh frank manner of a
school-girl, and I could not imagine her
affianced to Schenck.
" You are not generously treated under
this will," I remarked; “ you and your
cousin, Lady Serena, are rather left out;
she intends to dispute it."
The girl leaned forward a little and let
her clasped hands fall on her knee.
“ Tell me about Lady Serena," she said,
as if the will were altogether a secondary
matter.
“She is your cousin,” I replied, “ and
she is very handsome, very charming, very
happy, - and she is married to a titled
Englishman.”
Anice swept this all aside with a gesture
of disdain.
"Why I have known that for years,"
she said; “I want to know what she is
really like?”
I held my hat inverted in my hands and
I looked reflectively into the crown.
“I am sure I cannot define it," I re-
plied; “ she is like Lady Serena.”
162


ANICE
“ Oh,” she cried brightly, “ that ex-
plains it all — I quite understand.”
I stared a little blankly.
“Don't you see?” she continued, see-
ing my bewilderment, “I know what you
mean, she is individual, she is original;
she is — in short — a personage.”
“Yes," I admitted, with a sigh of relief,
“ I evidently conveyed it; she is decidedly
a personage.”
7 And he isn't,” said the girl.
“ Who, Bentinck? Not exactly,” I re-
plied hopelessly; “ you are evidently a
mind reader.”
“No,” she declared, “ only I make de-
ductions. Of course, a personage rarely
marries a personage! I am so glad about
Lady Serena, because I want to like her."
She gave me another look now and I
thought her eyes were decidedly blue.
Their particular shade of color was begin-
ning to interest me keenly. I almost lost
the thread of the conversation.
“Lady Serena is coming in a few days,"
I said lamely.
“ Then I shall see her and decide about
her,” remarked this young person calmly,
163


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
as though her decision would dispose of
Serena; “ you said she was going to dis-
pute the will ? "
I nodded. “ She is not likely to give up
all to your cousin, Mr. Schenck.”
She gave me a quick, sidelong glance and
folded her hands demurely.
“I am so glad that you do not like An-
drew," she remarked.
“ Did I say so?” I asked.
She shook her head. "Not in words,
but in voice and manner — yes,” she re-
torted, and then she leaned forward a lit-
tle, holding up a warning finger. “But be
careful before Aunt Erckmann; she
adores him.”
“ Good gracious!" I exclaimed, “ and
wherefore?”
“ Chiefly because he looks like some one
else," she retorted calmly; “ he looks like
a delightful, far away admirer of Aunt
Erckmann's, who died young and devoted."
“ And is so long remembered ?"
“Of course," she laughed softly, “a
woman never forgets the man who loved
her long ago.”
“ That is the most consoling thing you
have told me," I said.
164


ANICE
“ It is true; " she nodded her head wise-
ly at me.
“ Then why are they so often flouted?"
“ Because,” she looked down demurely,
“ because a woman usually marries the
man she loves — when she can!”.
“ And it does not follow that it is mu-
tual ? »
She was quite serious now.
“ The French say, 'en amour, toujours
un qui aime l'autre,'" she quoted, and
then added with a sudden merry laugh, “I
do not know!”
“ Not even from Mr. Schenck?”
She shrugged her shoulders with a grim-
ace.
“I wonder why you bring up Andrew
Schenck?” she asked coldly.
“ He told me he was going to marry
you."
She fushed crimson and flashed a furi-
ous glance at me.
“ How dared he?"
I laughed a little. “How long have you
known Andy?" I inquired, with a feeling
of relief.
“ Long enough to despise him," she said
promptly; “ marry him, indeed! Why, I
165


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
am not even sure that he is divorced. The
impertinence!”
She rose from her chair and went to the
window, looking out in evident agitation.
I rose also and stood waiting to make my
adieux. At last she turned and came to-
ward me. Her face was quite pale and her
eyes shone; she was very charming, very
young, very natural.
" Mr. Brinton, need this will make a
great delay?" she asked; “ can't I com-
promise — or do something? Oh, you
don't understand! But the money — it
seems so little to Lady Serena, to me”-
she drew her breath,“ to me it means lib-
erty!"
" You should have more, much more," I
declared decidedly; " the will is an out-
rage and a fraud," and I told her all that
Dr. Lloyd had said to me.
“I do not care," she replied, “ I do not
care! I am not greedy for money, and
that sum would make me my own mistress,
would free me from these horrid obliga-
tions, these — " she stopped, blushing fu-
riously.
I began to wonder who had lent the
money for this trip; to whom she was in-
166


ANICE
debted — or rather to whom her aunt was
indebted ?
“ Do not sell your birthright for a mess
of pottage,” I said tritely.
“Then it is certain that there will be a
contest ? ” she said; her face was changed
- greatly changed as she looked at me.
After all, she was playing into Schenck's
hands; I was completely puzzled.
“ There is no doubt that there will be a
contest," I replied stiffly.
She sighed and stood looking down.
“I suppose that Mr. Gibbs, Mr.
Schenck's attorney and yours, has made it
all clear to you," I added.
“He is not my attorney — if he is An-
drew's," she declared quickly.
“I understood that he was.”
" Who is to fight for Lady Serena's in-
terests?” she asked, giving me a quick
glance from under her long lashes.
“I am,” I said.
She did not reply for a moment; there
was an indefinable change in her manner,
and then she held out her hand.
“ It is one o'clock,” she said sweetly,
" and I am engaged to see a music teacher
at this moment — but — " she smiled;
167


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
“ will you be my attorney also, Mr. Brin-
ton?"
I confess that I was blushing like a
school boy.
“ If you can trust me," I said.
“ Should I have asked you otherwise?"
and I became uncertain again about the
color of her eyes; were they violet?
A little later I found my way back to my
hotel and tried to be certain whether I was
eating mutton chop or bird of Paradise for
lunch. And this was the country bumpkin
whom Dr. Lloyd and Lady Serena had
rather dreaded. Ye gods! If anything,
she was more charming than her cousin;
if she had not the regular features of a
classical beauty, she had that indefinable
charm that is far more dangerous. I
smiled a little, in spite of my anger, at
Schenck's pretensions. It was true that
Anice Holland was a poor girl and he, if
the will stood, a millionaire — but I was
sharply determined that the will should not
stand. I wrote a cable at once to the senior
counsel in the case of Portman versus
Lloyd, asking him to employ a detective at
once to meet the Red Star liner, City of
New York, and inquire into the case of the
168


ANICE
woman with the red hat. I wrote a note
to Lady Serena informing her of the ar-
rival of her cousin and of her willingness
to join her interests with hers. I was in
a state of feverish eagerness about the
case; the discovery of the murderer — if
there was one — and the exposure of the
fraudulent will had never seemed so im-
portant. Cartouche's suspicions of me as-
sumed a new aspect; if he openly accused
me it would lead to embarrassing complica-
tions and, perhaps, greatly hinder my ac-
tivity and my usefulness. I may have
been said to have had my mauvais quart
d'heure that afternoon as I reflected on
these things, walking on the Champs Ely-
sées. I tried to divert my mind with the
gayety of the promenade, the beautiful
women, the handsome equipages — but I
could not. The tall gaunt figure of Dr.
Lloyd haunted me, standing at the head
of the stairs, bidding me a cheery farewell.
The conviction that he had been foully
dealt with grew upon me. I could not
shake it off; I did not relish my dinner and
I found myself in a hurry to go out to the
rue Fontaine St. Georges to see Lavaur.
Yet, as I approached the grim front of
169


ANICE
“ Are you prepared to see ghosts?” he
asked genially.
• Almost," I replied, still standing on
the hearth; “ 'pon my word, Gilette, I do
not envy you. The comfort is here, but
• something is rotten in the state of Den-
mark.'"
“ There is,” he replied, with a whimsical
smile, “ I haven't a doubt of it. What is
wrong with you, Brinton; have you had a
vision?”
“ In a way, yes," I retorted; “I have
seen Miss Holland.”
" Andy Schenck's fiancée?”.
“No," I replied, so sharply that Lavaur
looked up.
“ Ah,” he said, “ will you present me?"
I shook my head doubtfully. “I am not
sure," I replied.
He shrugged his shoulders. “I shall
see her all the same," he remarked cheer-
fully, and then he rose and walking over
to the alcove by the cabinet he rapped on
the wall.
“ Spirits?" I asked scornfully.
He nodded and rapped again a little
further on.
171


ANICE
lamp held it up over his head, pointing
downward with the other hand. I looked
curiously through the opening and saw a
narrow space like a closet with a large
hole in the floor.
“ It is a secret stair," he said.
173


CHAPTER XIII
THE SECRET STAIR
Lavaur and I stood looking at the steep,
narrow stair that descended from this
niche in the wall of Lloyd's study. My
companion's lamp cast but a feeble ray
downward, and the steps seemed to drop
suddenly out of our sight into the infernal
regions. A mouldy smell and mysterious
sounds came up to us, the strange noises
of an old house. I saw that we were
standing in a narrow passage between the
inner and the outer walls. Here steps de-
scended; behind Lavaur two or three steps
ascended to a door. The house dated back
to Francis First, one of the few old rook-
eries remaining in modern Paris, and the
plan of it all flashed upon me in an instant.
“This was the last resort," I said;“ see,
there is the door in the turret where a
stand could be made; these stairs lead
downward to some means of escape.
Where is the opening below?"
“ Come down and see,” replied Lavaur,
174


THE SECRET STAIR
"I found this passage this morning. I
have been looking for the opening to it for
days."
6. This is why you took the house?” I
suggested, following him as he lighted our
descent between gray unplastered walls.
“Not altogether," he said, stopping to
show me a broken step,“ but I had a theory
and this goes a long way toward strength-
ening it.”
“ You think an assassin crept up this
way?”
“ It is very possible," he replied, plung-
ing down into yet deeper shadows.
The way was so narrow that we grazed
our elbows and a stumble would have
plunged us headlong.
“ One man could have held this stair
against ten," I remarked, “ but what be-
came of the corpulent?”
“ They came out slim," my guide re-
plied; “ lower your head, there is an arch
here.",
“ Does this go through to China?" I
asked cheerfully.
“I'm free to confess that I don't know
where it goes,” he replied, with his usual
composure.
175


THE SECRET STAIR
on that morning when the house was ex-
amined; no one then suspected this wall; I
didn't."
“ Yes, I remember," I admitted musing-
ly; “I remember that there was no door
from this cellar, no way of leaving it ex-
cept by the stair to Cartouche's room. It
was easy therefore for Cartouche to go
down this stair and through this door —
and up here — so that he stood behind the
cabinet, shielded by the curtain, and heard
all. Lavaur, the thing is a devilish inven-
tion — it will go a long way toward con-
victing the concierge, but how on earth
could that old man — feeble and rheumatic
- make the trip in time to help me into
my storm coat?”
“ How long a time elapsed between the
opening of the secret drawer and your
departure?"
“ That is not the point," I insisted
sharply;“ it was necessary for him to put
the poison in the wine-glass, descend the
stair and reach me in about five minutes —
no more.”
“ Think — think carefully,” said La-
vaur, " time slips when we talk; were you
not a little while on the landing?"
177


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
“ Make it seven minutes at the outside,"
I said doggedly.
“ And yet,” remarked my companion,
passing the lantern close to the partition,
cen o nton has to the monditions
“ you can see the hinge and the spring lock
on this side and both have been freshly
cleaned and oiled.”
Of that there could be no doubt, and I
began to experience a curious reversion of
feeling. I had believed devoutly in the
servants.
" They must have both been in it," I
said; “ Marie must have put the poison in
the wine.”
“ Marie is a very small person,” he re-
plied, “ yet the man, or woman, who went
up here was tall enough to knock away that
piece of plaster on the arch — neither you
nor I did it. It has not fallen, for it would
be powdered here on the step; it fell on
some one's clothes and was dropped bit by
bit higher up."
" Cartouche is short and stoops," I said
grimly, looking at him across the light.
He nodded.
“I admit it,” he retorted, “ but there
is no apparent way of getting in or out of
this passage except through the cellar and
178


THE SECRET STAIR
from the cellar through Cartouche's room.
He testified at the inquest that the door
from his room on the cellar stairs was
locked. Either he lied or he went up and
down himself, or — "
“ Or there is another and a secret way
out," I remarked.
“I have not found it,” he replied light-
ly, “ and I have looked — carefully and
with tears."
I looked about and saw no sign of an
opening.
“I should be sorry to hang Cartouche,"
I said, “ although he is ready enough to
accuse me.”
Lavaur opened the door — a narrow one
- and passed into the cellar. It was as
I had seen it on the day after Lloyd's mur-
der, a small square room intended chiefly
as a storeroom in the old days and unused
now, damp and dusty and forlorn. In the
corner a flight of stairs ascended to the
door of Cartouche's room. We went this
way and Lavaur called my attention to the
fact that here neither hinge nor lock were
oiled, but both creaked audibly enough.
“ These may have been purposely left in
this condition,” he suggested.
179


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
We were now in the little closet-like room
where the old concierge had slept. It was
untouched. There stood his narrow iron
bedstead, the washstand, a chair and an old
chest; a crucifix and a colored print of the
madonna hung on the wall. Nothing could
have been more simple or more significant
of the life of the old man who lived there.
Lavaur went on into the room beyond and
setting the lamp on the table, took Car-
touche's chair and I sat down opposite.
We looked at each other for some moments
in silence. It was the first to break it.
“My dear fellow," I said, “I am still
obstinate; I don't believe it."
“ Nor 1,” he replied smiling, “ but the
facts are strongly in support of the police
theory; M. le Prefect would beam if he
could see that stair this minute. But I
don't mean that he shall — yet! What
stupidity! Why didn't they look for the
space between the walls?”.
"I confess that I never thought of it,”
I said, “ and I wonder if Lloyd did.”
“ He must have known it,” replied La-
vaur; “ he was that sort of a man; but I
doubt if he dreamed of such a use for it
in these times — it savors of the dark ages.
180


THE SECRET STAIR
One almost expects to look for old Bene-
venuto Cellini's ground diamond in the
wine. You remember that Cellini's theory
was that only ground diamond was fatal
and that all the refined Italian poisoners
used it.”
I thought of the Italian cabinet.
“ It is the ghost of Catharine de Medi-
ci," I said.
Lavaur began to search his pockets for
a cigarette and I offered him a cigar.
“My dear fellow," I persisted, “ it is
not Cartouche. The whole thing hangs on
the will; why should he change the will ?”
“ It involves the trifling sum of two mil-
lions more or less," he replied, “ and it is
possible that he was paid.”
“ Whom do you suspect?” I asked.
He laughed softly. “My dear Jack,"
he said pleasantly,“ I have always thought
you were the logical suspect.”
“ So does Lady Serena," I remarked.
" And Cartouche.”
“ Confound Cartouche!" I ejaculated
testily.
“ Or hang him," suggested my tormen-
tor.
181


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
“ You have a theory; out with it," I
said.
“I have a theory, yes," he admitted,
“ but I confess it doesn't hang together;
it's too flimsy. Give me time, Brinton; I
am like a lawyer, I can consume more time
doing nothing than any other species.”
“ And the woman with the red hat," I
said.
He rose and walked up and down the
room.
“She bought the poison,” he remarked,
“ the paper was in Cartouche's pocket.
Yet, you and I do not believe in his guilt."
“ We are threshing old straw."
" But we found the staircase."
“ That is old too," I retorted; “ Lavaur,
it's the will — the will interests me; it's a
fraud.”
He took his seat again, knocking the
ashes from his cigarette.
“What color are her eyes?” he asked
genially.
" I don't know," I replied shortly.
" That's interesting," he pursued;" you
must present me."
“ All this is nonsense, Lavaur," I said
182


THE SECRET STAIR
sharply;“ the will is going to be contested
and the clew lies here."
“ Yes, the clew lies here," he replied mu-
singly.
As he spoke the bell — an old-fashioned
affair over our heads — jangled sharply.
He looked across at me with a peculiar
smile.
“ Brinton,” he said, “I want you to
play a rôle. That's Mrs. Buyse; I sent
for her in your name, because she wouldn't
come for me.”
“The deuce!" I ejaculated, taken by
surprise.
He grinned. “It's very simple," he
said, “ I only want to know something of
the occupant of No. 24 rue Taitbout. You
can question her."
" I might have had a little warning,” I
suggested.
But he had already gone to the door and
let in Mrs. Buyse. She wore, as usual, a
plain black dress and raised her veil as she
responded to my greeting. Lavaur told
her to sit down and retired to his corner
with a slightly malicious twinkle to his
eyes. She sat down primly on the edge of
183


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
a chair and folded her hands in her lap, the
very model of a decent upper servant.
“You sent for me, sir,” she said, direct-
ing her looks toward me.
This was so palpably untrue that I
winced.
“I want to ask you a few questions, Mrs.
Buyse,” I began lamely, “ about — about
Henry Persifal.”
She gave me a quick look and drew her
lips tightly together.
“ He was lodging — up to February
sixth — at No. 24 rue Taitbout,” I went on,
" and we would like his present address.”
“ I do not know him," she replied com-
posedly; "he was a friend of Luce
Sapeurs, but I don't think she knows his
address."
“He is an American, I believe, Mrs.
Buyse?” struck in Lavaur.
She rubbed her hands softly together,
looking down.
“ He is English, sir,” she said stiffily,
" but his mother was French."
“ Indeed, how did you come to know
that — of a stranger?”
“ Luce told me,” she said, at once; “ I'll
ask her for the address, if you wish it, sir."
184


THE SECRET STAIR
“I wish it very much," I replied, " in
fact, I would be willing to make it worth
Mlle. Sapeurs' while."
She looked at me curiously. “I hope
there's nothing amiss,” she remarked;
“ that this has nothing to do with Dr.
Lloyd's death?”
« Nothing of a serious import,” Lavaur
interposed; “ we want to make some in-
quiries, that's all.”
“ Very good, sir,” she replied stiffly, and
her glance at him was hostile. “I'll tell
Luce.”
Not sure of Lavaur's drift, I did not see
my way to asking any more questions and
the woman rose.
Then she stood hesitating, looking from
one to the other.
“I want to say,” she began and then
stopped and seemed to collect her thoughts.
“I want to tell you gentlemen something
that I haven't told before. Every time I
came here to see poor Dr. Lloyd — I was
followed.”
“ Indeed, by whom?" I asked, with some
amusement, for she had not the face and
figure to attract such attentions.
" That's what I don't know, sir,” she
185


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
replied, “ but it's the first time that I was
ever followed. He was a short man with
a big coat — the collar turned up — and he
wore a slouch hat. He'd follow me from
two to three blocks, and always to this door
or from it. He seemed to kind of hang
around."
“ Did you tell Dr. Lloyd?" I inquired.
“No, sir,” she replied, “I didn't like to.
It makes a decent woman feel ashamed.
But, now that the poor gentleman is gone
so strangely, I feel called upon to tell.”
Lavaur asked her a few sharp questions
about the man but she was unable to give
us any clear description, and after a few
more remarks he let her go. When the
door closed behind her, he shrugged his
shoulders.
" This might bear on the case,” I sug-
gested, “ what do you think?”
“ I think she lied,” he retorted coolly.
186


CHAPTER XIV
: A CABLEGRAM
The very day of Lady Serena's arrival
in Paris, I received a package from home
containing all the papers that bore directly,
or indirectly, on the original draft of
Lloyd's will. They had been forwarded
to me by the senior partner in the firm
of which I was a member, and I read my
own notes with strange feelings. I had
made no mistake in my recollections of the
will. Anice Holland and Serena were to
have had equal shares, Schenck received
nothing, and the other bequests, mainly to
charitable and literary purposes, were all
larger than in the will found in the cab-
inet. I noticed especially that, in the old
will, Anice had with her portion the
farm whose boundary line had caused the
long lawsuit with Portman. She was spe-
cifically heiress to the hundredth acre! I
could not suppress a smile at the thought
of the trouble that the poor girl would
thus inherit, and then my mind recurred
187


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
to Hez Portman and his threatening man-
ner, and I could not solve the riddle of his
hinted power over Schenck. However, I
reflected that a man living at the pace
that Schenck had from boyhood, must
have more than one weak spot in his
record, and doubtless it was some dis-
graceful fracas that Portman held
over his head; but then such a weap-
on should have lost some of its edge
by the death of Lloyd, for there was no one
now who had either the wish or the author-
ity to interfere with the culprit. Schenck
was his own master, yet I could not but
recall the sharp change in his face at the
mention of Hez Portman. There was some
secret cause to fear the old man's veiled
threat, and had I had more time I should
have been tempted to hunt for it there and
then, and so should have found an earlier
solution to many things, but other events
marched too fast. I had begun to feel that
it was only a matter of time before Car-
touche's accusation of me would bring mat-
ters to a climax. But I regarded even this
without much trepidation. It would be bad
enough, humiliating enough, but there was
far less of a case against me than against
188


A CABLEGRAM
the concierge, and the secret stair was there
to clench the accusation of the old man.
Lavaur's restless curiosity, his relentless
pursuit of one object, was enough to strike
a chill to the culprit's heart — whoever he
might be. Yet, I felt that we were really
no nearer tracing him than when Lavaur
first laid his restless hand on Dr. Lloyd's
wine-glass.
It was while I reflected on these things
that Mr. Gibbs' card came up. He rep-
resented Schenck and I fancied that he was
also Mrs. Erckmann's private agent. I
had not, by the way, yet seen that person-
age. I divined the lawyer's errand, but
I sent for him to come up and received
him in my room without formality.
Gibbs was a shrewd man in a small way,
but he had no standing in the profession.
I had learned this from private advices
from home. He was plainly nervous when
he came in and accepted a proffered chair
by my window. I offered him a cigar, but
he declined on the ground that he neither
smoked nor drank.
“ A high moral standard, Mr. Gibbs," I
remarked, carefully putting away the pa-
pers that I had just been reviewing.
189


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
“ Never did, sir," he replied;“ I used to
be superintendent of a Sunday school out
in Michigan; had to toe the crack then, I
can tell you."
“You were a shining example to the
young, I see," I remarked. “It's a good
thing to live up to a principle; I congratu-
late you. But don't you find the atmos-
phere of Paris very deteriorating?”
He gave me a shrewd look as if he sus-
pected me of a concealed gibe.
“I confess I like it,” he said, with a
broad smile; “I was getting keyed too
high."
I could not suppress a smile. “ I am to
understand that you are getting un-
keyed?” I suggested.
He laughed, leaning back in his chair and
thrusting his thumbs into his armholes.
He was assuming the cheerful air of a good
comrade and I suspected that his proposi-
tion was to be soon forthcoming.
" Mr. Brinton,” he said comfortably,
“ I've been talking to my clients; they're
opposed to any long suit. There doesn't
seem to be any one in this fight to stay but
Lady Bentinck. It's going to be expensive,
my dear sir, and futile. I came over to talk
190


A CABLEGRAM
with you about the possibilities of a com-
promise. Your client -
“My clients,” I corrected.
" You mean Lord Bentinck?” he said,
with a shrug; “ he's scarcely a party to
the suit."
" I refer to Miss Holland.”
He stared.
“ Mrs. Erckmann gave me to understand
that I was retained,” he said bluntly.
“ Miss Holland and I had a personal
conversation in regard to it," I replied,
" and she is in sympathy with her cousin,
Lady Serena Bentinck.”
" It seems I have been misinformed,” he
said stiffy, turning red.
I nodded; looking out of the window I
had seen a victoria stopping before the ho-
tel and Lady Serena and her husband were
in it. They left a note and drove off; I
knew I was summoned. Gibbs could not
quite recover from his astonishment.
" At least, I represent Mr. Schenck,” he
said, “ and he's prepared to fight every
inch of the way.”
" Precisely," I said, “ if he can't com-
promise."
191


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
“ You'll find yourself on the losing
side," said Gibbs, with acrimony.
“I am a philosopher in that respect,"
I retorted, taking Lady Serena's note from
the bell-boy; “ I've been there before."
"Mr. Schenck has a kindly feeling for
his cousins," pursued Mr. Gibbs obsti-
nately, “ and he is willing to make quite
liberal terms. It's your opportunity, Mr.
Brinton."
"I appreciate it," I retorted, “ but we
haven't even begun yet, Mr. Gibbs; we
have something in reserve; we may sur-
prise you."
He smiled incredulously and rose, seeing
that I was inclined to cut short the inter-
view.
“ We've accomplished nothing, Mr. Brin-
ton," he said.
" The law is slow," I retorted.
" It is also costly,” he remarked mean-
ingly.
“ To him who loses," I said.
“Exactly," he replied, and went out, a
little red in the face.
Then I opened Lady Serena's note. It
was simply a request that I should come
around to a five o'clock tea at Meurice's.
192


A CABLEGRAM
as
I have ned
Meanwhile I had sent a letter to the Pre-
fect of Police asking him to send me an
expert detective. It was in reply to this
note that M. Delcasse and I became ac-
quainted. He was a quiet man of middle
age, his hair very gray on the temples, his
manners and dress those of a gentleman.
I took him fully into my confidence and
told him that I was as liable to accusation
as Cartouche and indeed, I did not know
why I had not been accused.
He listened with a peculiar smile.
“I can tell monsieur,” he said cour-
teously; “ M. le Prefect always strongly
suspected you, but M. Lavaur has used
every means at hand — even the influence
of the American Ambassador to protect
you. Besides, the poison envelope on Car-
touche did much to convict him.”
" And all this time I have been really
a suspect," I said, laughing a little at my
own stupidity.
He smiled, waving his hands with a de-
precating gesture.
“ Monsieur has said it."
Then I told him all that had been accom-
plished; even the small details which did
not seem to me vital, and asked him to
193


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
obtain at once some information about the
man Henry Persifal.
After this, I made my way by five o'clock
to Lady Serena's quarters. I expected to
meet Lord Bentinck and was surprised to
be ushered into a purely feminine tea-par-
ty. Lady Serena was nibbling bon-bons and
talking to a young girl who sat beside her
at the tea table. They both turned as I
entered and I saw a charming face under a
big black hat with plumes. It was Anice
Holland. I smiled involuntarily, remem-
bering Lady Serena's anticipations of this
unknown cousin. Lady Bentinck held out a
bejewelled hand.
“ I'm awfully glad to see you,” she said,
“ Tommy's out; we wanted to talk to you
ourselves. Isn't it delightful that she isn't
hopeless — a person, in fact?" as she said
this, she waved at Anice who was smiling
at me across the samovar.
" I'm rather sorry I didn't witness the
first meeting," I replied, taking the chair
that Lady Serena indicated.
“ She expected a country bumpkin,"
said Anice; “ I'm not sure that she wasn't
disappointed."
194


A CABLEGRAM
“ I was — in a way,” said Serena, with
great complacence;" I wanted to find fault
with her and I can't. She's even going to
join issues with me, although her aunt is
heart and soul for that dear creature,
Andy."
“Perverted taste," I replied; “I have
just seen his lawyer Gibbs. He claimed
to be yours, Miss Holland.”.
“ What presumption!” she exclaimed,
"I detest him, but Aunt Erckmann has
talked to him a good deal.”
“Have you got the draft of the will
yet, Jack?” interposed Serena, putting
lemon into my tea.
"I hate that," I remarked cheerfully;
" I'm a cream and sugar man.”
“I wish you could answer seriously,”
said her ladyship indignant; “ you're as
bad as a woman.”
" What do you want to know?" I asked,
maliciously.
“ All about the will,” she said.
" I have the notes in my pocket," I re-
plied.
" Good gracious!" ejaculated Miss Hol-
land.
I looked up and saw that she was not
195


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
heeding me but had her eyes fixed on the
door opposite.
It had opened to admit a servant who
brought some letters, and I was surprised
to recognize the decent black clad figure.
" Why it's old Leah Buyse!” exclaimed
Anice, as the woman withdrew,“ how in
the world - "
“She's come to help me,” explained Se-
rena; “ she's an old lemon, of course, but
what could I do? I had no sooner got here
than Shane was taken ill. She's been sent
to the hospital, poor soul! This woman
was here to see me and I simply took her
at once; I'm a helpless creature and could-
n't get on.”
“ But how did she come here at all?”
asked Miss Holland.
“Oh, she came with those vulgar rich
McHenrys and they shipped her; she's aw-
fully behind the times, you know. She was
adrift and needed help — and I took her.”
Anice Holland laughed mischievously.
“I remember when she used to give me
medicine in jam,” she said; “I think the
whole family employed that woman. I
never could like her because she loved Andy
Schenck; besides, she never gave me
196


A CABLEGRAM
enough jam to sweeten the bitter taste:”
“She's worried to death now over Uncle
Lloyd's death,” said Serena; “ she came
to me in tears because John Brinton and
Lavaur had catechized her like a criminal.
Why didn't you wait for me, Jack? Men
have no tact.”
Anice looked across at me with a queer
little smile.
" Can't we see the notes about Uncle
Lloyd's will?” she asked softly, blushing
a little as she met my eyes.
I took out my papers and went through
them carefully. Serena needed explana-
tions; her cousin, on the other hand, was
quick and clear sighted. When I was
through, Lady Bentinck clasped her hands
and looked at me with melancholy regret.
“Dear me," she murmured, “I should
have been able to pay my milliner's bill and
to fix up Tommy's old rookeries. It's al-
most too much that there should be such
a mess after that!”
Anice Holland felt it more than she did.
Doubtless the change in her life would have
been great; she turned a little pale.
“How generous he meant to be to me!”
she exclaimed, with a sigh;“ and I've had
197


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
hard thoughts of him sometimes as miserly.
I'm overwhelmed with self reproach.”
“Pshaw, you didn't get it!" flashed
back Lady Serena, with a pout.
“No," admitted Anice, with a rueful
smile, “ but he intended it; I'm sure now
that the other will is a fraud.”
"Oh, of course it is,” said Serena;
" but, dear, dear, we shall have an end-
less lawsuit and I hate them.”
As she spoke the door opened and a short
stout woman, with a florid face and red-
dish hair, came in. Lady Serena gave me
a quick, significant glance as she rose to
greet her abrupt visitor.
“ Mrs. Erckmann let me present Mr.
Brinton,” she said.
Mrs. Erckmann greeted us both coldly
and fastened her eyes on her niece.
“I'm sorry to interrupt your tea party,”
she said, rather sharply, “but I've been
waiting for Anice for an hour. You know
we're going to see some pictures.”
“It's so late, aunt,” suggested Anice,
rising with reluctance; “ I should so much
rather see them by daylight.”
“Stay and drink tea with me, Mrs. Erck-
mann," said Serena sweetly.
198


A CABLEGRAM
“I should like you for a cousin,” she
said.
I was conscious of turning brutally red.
“My dear Lady Serena, I should be
called a fortune hunter.”
" Pshaw!" she retorted lightly, " how
absurd. That's what they called Tommy
and he isn't. He was really quite foolish
about me. Of course, it was a good thing
that I had prospects.' Go in and win,
John; when she has the money suitors will
swarm; now's your time. I'm ready to
volunteer my good offices.”
I set down my tea-cup and looked for my
hat.
“Not another word,” I protested,
“ you'll make a fool of me yet — between
you."
When I reached my own quarters I found
another package of letters from home and
among them the report of the detective
employed to meet the Red Star liner.
“ Mrs. Mattisby " had arrived in due
time and evaded an interview and been
spirited away by Mr. Jepson, the attorney
for old Hez Portman. The detective asked
for instructions; if she was wanted on the
charge of murder, he would hunt her down,
201


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
if not — what was he to do? Mr. Jepson
had met her and whisked her off and re-
fused to furnish any information in re-
gard to her.
I laid down the report in some amaze-
ment. Here was a new development; what
was the key to Portman's threats and his
interference? I set out at once to find
Lavaur.
202


CHAPTER XV
A MORNING WALK.
I did not find Lavaur until the next
morning and then he was preparing an
early lunch in Dr. Lloyd's quarters. The
fellow had no nerves and seemed to regard
the gruesome associations of the place as
a bit of an appetizer. He had made his
own coffee and was cooking lambs' kid-
neys in a chafing dish. He wore his flan-
nel trousers and a smoking jacket and his
hair was on end. The whole place was in
a litter of artistic disorder and he was
happy.
“Just in time, Jack,” he said, “ for a
kidney. Sit down, I'm a bit of a cook. I
was out for a lark last night but I found
your scribble under the door. What's
up?"
I handed him the report and he read it
in a leisurely fashion, after he had blown
out the light under the chafing dish. As he
read, his keen face lighted up with enjoy-
ment.
203


A MORNING WALK
dear Brinton," he said, “ you have been
shadowed ever since Lloyd's death, why
not Portman?”
“ To be sure, why not?” I retorted;
“ for one thing, I don't believe he's capable
of anything so complicated and neat as
this; and for another, I'm tired of suspect-
ing everybody. But we'll have to put the
matter in the hands of the Prefect of Po-
lice for we must have the woman with the
red hat, and have her on the accusation of
aiding and abetting the murderer.”
Lavaur nodded, replenishing his plate.
“ That's the first move,” he said, " and
then I have another. Are you to be at
liberty tonight?”.
I hesitated a moment, for I had intended
calling on Anice Holland and her aunt.
"You can call on her tomorrow," said
Lavaur, with a grin.
“My dear fellow, I believe you're the
devil!” I exclaimed; " but I'll be at your
disposal tonight.”
“Good boy,” he said comfortably;
" then I'll write two notes and we'll have a
little pleasant reunion-Schenck and
Portman."
“ That's not a bad idea," I replied dry-
205


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
ly, “but how do you propose to get
them?”
“Leave that to me, my dear Jack," he
said; “ I'm thinking of adding Gibbs, only
he's such a pawn in the game.”
"An undesirable pawn," I replied,
“ for he might hold Schenck in check. An-
drew has such a bad temper that — un-
guided — we may be able to draw him out.
No, no, leave out all lawyers but your hum-
ble servant."
“ The legal profession loves a monopo-
ly,” remarked Lavaur, and then added that
we must see to it at once that the myste-
rious woman was secured.
I wrote the cablegram to the New York
detective while I was there, and he volun-
teered to see the Prefect of Police at once
and divulge to him our discoveries in re-
gard to the poison envelope that we had
hitherto kept to ourselves. The strongest
circumstantial evidence still pointed to
Cartouche, but there were now equally
strong indications of a conspiracy — and
a conspiracy in which Hez Portman had
some part. I had never seen Lavaur in a
better humor; the developments of the case
seemed to delight him.
206


A MORNING WALK
“ My dear fellow," he said, “ it's a con-
spiracy. When we find the clew we shall
solve the riddle of the will — and Miss Hol-
land will come to her own. By the way, I
have seen her and I admire your taste, but
Schenck is decidedly the parti with Mrs.
Erckmann."
“ Exactly," I replied, “ and neither of
us stands a chance with the niece.”
“Nonsense, what modesty!" retorted
Lavaur, with a shrug, “ it is true that your
hair is nearly red and your features beauti-
fully irregular, but you are a lady's man,
Jack; they all like you."
These personalities were not at all to
my taste, so I rose.
“I'll be around by eight o'clock," I said
coldly.
He looked at me with twinkling eyes.
“ It has really gone as far as that then?"
he said maliciously, “ 'tis no longer a joke.
A la bonne heure, there is the young lady
now — walking by the house and regarding
it with interest. Hang this smoking jacket
and this dishevelment! Feminine curiosi-
ty has drawn her half across Paris alone;
she'll be followed by some of my dear fel-
207


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
low citizens. Here — I say — Jack! –
come back here — you — "
But I was gone. I made my way down
stairs and out the door with more rapidity
than grace. And there, a few yards ahead,
was a slender figure in a smart tailor-made
suit and the big hat with black plumes.
She had a bearing and style that was as-
tonishing in a little slip of a girl from the
country.
She was startled and colored when I
overtook her.
“ Yes,” she confessed, “ I came way off
here - ostensibly to the church — Notre
Dame de Lorette - but really to see the
house. It seems like morbid curiosity,
doesn't it? Yet, I do not think it is. I
wanted to see it — to fancy my uncle's life
there. He has always been quite a figure
in my horizon, from the days when I used
to go to Boston — at rare intervals — to
call on him in solemn state and receive my
new five dollar gold piece. That was an
enormous sum to me. I remember I went
usually once a year and I lived on that ex-
pectation and laid out that money all the
other three hundred and sixty-four days.
208


A MORNING WALK
I felt myself as rich as Hetty Green - be-
fore it was spent! I think I know every
piece of old furniture in that old house on
Beacon Street, from the clock in the hall
— with the sun and moon on its face — to
the mahogany wine-cooler in the dining-
room, where he kept his favorite bottle of
port at just the right temperature until it
was served. Yet, he wrote Aunt Erck-
mann this year that he scarcely recollected
me!"
6. That was enormously his loss," I said,
" and he died without the chance to re-
trieve it. If your memory is so good, per-
haps, you can recall some other things,
among them my occasional presence at
your uncle's house when you were there."
She looked at me with mischievous eyes.
“I do," she said demurely; “ I remem-
ber you when your hair was quite red and
you wore turn down collars.”
" Ye gods!” I exclaimed miserably,
“ why did I rush upon my fate?".
“Do you remember buying me some
soda water and some taffy?" she pursued
relentlessly. “I remember it very well,
and I almost forgave you for having red
hair."
209


A MORNING WALK
aunt and I — last night with Lord Ben-
tinck. I thought him most interesting. Is
he really trying to solve the dreadful mys-
tery?"
• Really,— and really," I replied, “ and
I suppose he is vastly more interesting to
you than if he had red hair.”
She looked at me smiling.
“I think he might be more so."
“In what way, madam?” stifly, but
with some internal eagerness.
“With red hair,” she said maliciously
and laughed, as merrily as a child.
“ Thank you," I murmured; “if this
keeps on I shall cease wishing to be bald.”
Instead of walking toward the heart of
Paris, where our hotels lay, we had been
walking back toward the Church of Notre
Dame de Lorette and were now under its
shadow. As we turned the corner of the
parvis she made a little exclamation and
faced about.
Good gracious!” she said, half laugh-
ing, “ there is my cousin Andrew, and I
don't want to meet him.”
It was Schenck, and he was not twenty
paces from us. It was a windy morning
and it had been raining and he wore his
211


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
storm coat, a rather loud plaid, for the fel-
low never had good taste. He had seen us
almost at once and hesitated, as if he had
two minds about stopping us, but Anice's
manner checked him. His face flushed
darkly and he saluted us, flashing an irate
look at me. When he was past, she began
to laugh softly.
" What a narrow escape,” she mur-
mured; “ you frightened him away — for
I am sure Aunt Erckmann sent him after
me."
" Why does your aunt insist on taking
his side?" I asked. “ It is against your
true interests.".
" She does not think so," she replied,
coloring highly; “ she has a perfect terror
of lengthy lawsuits and — and –
" And lawyers' fees,” I suggested, smil-
ing.
She laughed. “Is it second sight with
you?" she asked.
"I fancied it. But don't be afraid of
too long a suit," I added; “I think we shall
find a way.”
“ Has anything been discovered ? " she
asked quickly.
212


A MORNING WALK
“ Don't ask me," I replied, “ but believe
me; I shall do my best for you.”
She was no longer merry; her face paled
a little and she looked at me earnestly.
“Oh, don't let it be long,” she said,
“ don't. It means so much. I'd rather
take the smaller sum. It's weak, it's child-
ish, but I-I—" she stammered, “ I'm
really almost afraid of the man!”.
“ Of Schenck?"
She nodded, looking at me and trying to
smile.
“ Put it out of your thoughts," I said,
very wrathful at Mrs. Erckmann and sus-
pecting much; “ he shall not annoy you.
Can't you trust me?”
She blushed softly and held out her
hand.
“It's a compact,” I said, as I clasped it
and she smiled.
" It seems so sordid," she said, “ but it
really isn't that!"
“ I could not think that of you," I said
lightly. “Hadn't we better go in and look
at the church — in case we should meet
Schenck if we went on at once?”
“Do you think we should ? ” she hesi-
tated.
213


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
“I am sure of it," I replied firmly, and
it took us just an hour to examine the fres-
coes and the chancel, and she had remem-
bered a hundred things about old times
before we recollected that it was long past
noon and there was such a thing as lunch
and an irate aunt.
214


CHAPTER XVI
AN INTERESTING MEETING
That evening, Lavaur and I sat together
over the fire in Dr. Lloyd's study waiting
for our two visitors. He had seen the Pre-
fect of Police and steps had already been
taken toward securing the return of the
mysterious purchaser of the poison. Fur-
ther than that little had developed; I had
not seen the French detective, Delcasse,
nor had I received a report from him. The
man, Henry Persifal, seemed to be even
more elusive than the woman with the red
hat.
It was the first of March and the wind
howled about the old house and rattled the
casements. Nothing could have been more
dreary than the wailing sound in the turret
where every gale seemed to wake an echo.
As usual, Lavaur smoked, his feet on the
fender and the fire-light playing fitfully on
his keen face; in the half shadow he looked
older than he really was. He turned sud-
denly and caught my eyes on his face.
215


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
“ Well? ” he said quizzically.
“I was wondering what in the world
caused your interest in this case," I re-
marked. “I can't see the reason."
He smiled.
“My dear Jack," he said, “ I am a per-
son of whims. For my part, I was think-
ing that only one theory gains strength; so
far, Cartouche is guilty — the apparent in-
strument of a conspiracy - ".
“Why settle on that poor old man?” I
asked, with a shrug.
Lavaur laughed grimly. “You evi-
dently don't know that I caused his ar-
rest,” he remarked.
"And why? You don't believe in his
guilt?"
“My dear fellow, I had to do it,” he ex-
plained, “ it was either he or you, and nat-
urally he was anxious that it should be
you."
“ Poor devil," I remarked, "I can't
blame him. After all, Lavaur, you were
clever to manage it. Logically, I am the
man — but the man without a motive, for
I gained nothing.”
Neither did Cartouche — unless he
was paid.”
216


AN INTERESTING MEETING
“ His legacy would be great to him," I
said, thoughtfully. “May I ask you what
you propose to do with these two men to-
night?”
He looked at me with an enigmatical
smile.
“My dear boy,” he said, “ this is my
game of chess. A knight and a castle will
be here tonight and I propose to make a
few moves.”
"I suppose from his bulk, Portman is
the castle,” I retorted, with a shrug," but
please don't call Andy a knight.”
He laughed and stirred the fire.
“ Should you prefer to make him a
pawn?”
“Of the meanest pattern, yes.”
“ I'll let it go at that,” he said, " for
even a pawn has a place in the game, and
Schenck plays a rather large rôle just
now, especially, if he takes the bank.”
“ Which he will not!” I retorted
sharply.
Lavaur chuckled softly to himself.
“ Don't get excited,” he said, “ nothing
is more uncertain than the law. Besides,
where is your precious lost will anyway?”
217


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
“ Ah," I exclaimed," wouldn't I give a
round sum to see it!”
As I spoke the bell rang and Lavaur
held up his hand with a smile.
“ Enter first gentleman,” he said, dra-
matically; “ now you will see my plot un-
fold.”
Yet, it was I who hit upon a plan of ac-
tion which forced a strange issue to the
interview. I thought of it while he was
going down stairs to admit the earliest
visitor, and I smiled inwardly at the idea
of surprising my astute friend, of spring-
ing the trap without warning. He liked to
mystify me; well and good, I should act
with independence and, perhaps, surprise
him. I threw another log upon the fire-
irons and listened to the voices below. It
was easy to recognize the first arrival; the
tones were gruff and somewhat coarse, but
with a breezy note of alertness. It was
Portman; Schenck spoke low, and in a thin
voice with the nasal burr. This arrival
fell in exactly with my plans and I rejoiced.
They came up stairs together, Lavaur
stepping lightly and swiftly, Portman la-
boring heavily and making the stairs
creak. He was short of breath and flushed
218


AN INTERESTING MEETING
when he entered the upper room and his
resemblance to a bulldog seemed peculiarly
emphatic. He greeted me curtly and took
the chair that his host offered, on the oppo-
site side of the fire. As he did so, he stared
around the room in open curiosity and with
some contempt, I thought, of the arrange-
ments which were, doubtless, meaningless
to him.
" So, these are Lloyd's quarters?” he
remarked. “I should think so. Full of
gim-cracks and what-nots. Haven't the
heirs laid any claim to 'em? Not that I
should think they'd want 'em — by a long
sight! Wouldn't bring anything at auc-
tion up to home.”
Lavaur grinned irrepressibly. “ They're
to stay here for a while, by general consent
of the heirs,” he explained; " then there
will have to be an accounting, of course —
after the suit is over.”
Portman brought his shaggy brows
down over his alert eyes and scowled at us.
“I had no sympathy for Hen Lloyd
alive,” he said, “ and I don't allow that
I have much more now he's dead, but I be
darned if I haven't better feelings about it
than his heirs. It's always the way; soon
219


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
as a fellow is dead the kin set on to pick
the bones — ain't any better than beasts.
What did you want of me?” he added
abruptly, turning full on us.
“We want the woman that your lawyer,
Mr. Jepson, has spirited off the Red Star
liner, City of New York,'" I retorted
calmly.
Lavaur stared and so did Portman.
“ Well, I'm darned!" the latter ejacu-
lated.
“Mr. Portman," I said deliberately,
“ Dr. Lloyd was poisoned; the paper which
contained the poison was found on the
person of Cartouche, the concierge, who —
by the way — denies all knowledge of the
crime — which he would naturally do in
any case. This poison was traced by the
envelope, and it was found that it had been
purchased in London by a woman. She
was also traced, described and located in
England; then she was lost sight of, found
again, tracked to the Red Star liner which
sailed for New York. There she was met
and spirited away by your attorney and
confidential man of affairs, Noah Jepson.
She's wanted as an accomplice of the mur-
derer.”
220


AN INTERESTING MEETING
Portman had been listening to me with a
very strange expression on his pugnacious
face and as I concluded he let his hand fall
heavily, slapping his knee.
“ By George!” he cried, with open sat-
isfaction, “ that's good news. I'm obliged
to you, my dear sir, though I know you
didn't intend to accommodate me.”
It was my turn to stare somewhat blank-
ly, but I pulled myself together and tried
to force him into close quarters.
“You, of course, understand that we
want the woman pretty badly over here,”
I remarked sternly, “ that we are deter-
mined to have her, and to probe this matter
to the bottom — without fear or favor —
requisition papers will be issued.”
He began to laugh at that, his face flush-
ing deeply.
“No need of that, sir,” he said, with
evident enjoyment; “ she's on her way —
this minute,” and he put his hand in his
pocket.
" You mean she took the next ship
back?” asked Lavaur, with a maliciously
amused glance at me — he hardly sup-
pressed a laugh.
Portman found a cablegram that had
221


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
been crumbled in his vest pocket, smoothed
it out and handed it to me with a grim
smile. It was brief and I read it aloud.
"• Met woman at the steamer. Sent
her back by the Burgoyne; due at Havre,
March 8th. Am shadowed, Jepson.'"
Lavaur and I exchanged glances in which
we tried to conceal our mortification, while
our opponent lay back in his chair and
laughed wickedly — perfectly aware that
we were nonplussed.
"She'll be here," he said, “but mark
you, gentlemen, she'll be my witness —
not yours. My witness every time — and
never yours.”
“She will be in the hands of the police,”
I remarked, trying to recover my mental
equilibrium. So far this burly old man
had been more than a match for us.
He showed his teeth now, strong and
short ones, in a peculiar smile, a smile that
was very irritating.
" Even so, she'll be my witness," he
said flatly. “ By the Lord Harry, do you
think I'm such a cussed fool as to play
into your hands?”.
“Let me warn you, Mr. Portman, not to
222


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
son
somewhat forcibly of a shaved pig. At
the sight of Portman he came to a halt and
flushed up to the short cropped bristles on
his forehead. He was as plainly disgrun-
tled as his opponent was pleased. The old
man lost no time in coming to the point.
He was blunt and obstinate.
“Hello, Andy!” he said, familiarly,
“ you're dressing up to your prospects,
eh? How about the divorce? Did the
court let you off with a little alimony?"
Schenck stared at him. “I didn't come
here to see you," he said, sullenly; " and
I'm not here to answer impertinent ques-
tions."
Portman grinned. “Look here," he
said brusquely, “ you can't play the high
hand with me, Andy Schenck! If you're to
get that property you want me on your
side, I can tell you that! And the way's
plain. Compromise that suit on the hun-
dredth acre and, by the Lord Harry, we'll
beat these two sharpers here - out of
hand.”
“ Thank you," said Lavaur placidly.
But neither of them heeded us, though
I think Schenck's reply was framed en-
tirely on our account.
224


AN INTERESTING MEETING
“ I don't catch your meaning, Mr. Port-
man,” he said, stiffly," and you might as
well understand — here and now — that I
have no thought of a compromise. I'll
not give you an inch — not a d-d inch."
Portman glared at him, strongly moved.
“You say that — that to my face?” he
sputtered,“ you dare to, you sneak! Very
well — we shall see. A week hence, Mr.
Schenck, there'll be another tune to your
song.”
But Andrew had lost his temper. “You
get nothing," he said hoarsely, “ not an
inch - I be d d if you do!” but his tone
faltered a little as he said it, he had en-
countered the old man's look.
Hez leaned forward, his red hands grip-
ping his knees, his fiery eyes fastened on
Andrew with threatening belligerence.
“I tell you what it is, Schenck," he
thundered wrathfully, “ if you don't drop
to our terms and give up that whole line —
and the hundredth acre — I'll give the
other side a piece of information that'll
take the wind out of your sails. I'll ruin
you, sir."
Schenck had taken a chair opposite and
he sat looking down at the floor. His face
225


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
blanched and there was a nervous twitch-
ing about the thick lips.
Lavaur leaned forward and lighted an-
other cigarette, tossing the match into the
fire.
“ And if I accede to your terms, Mr.
Portman?” said Schenck slowly and an-
grily, as though the words were dragged
from him; “ if I should yield now — at
once — and make you a pledge, what
then?”
“ Well, I'm darned if I know whether
I'd believe you or not!” replied the old
man, with a grim laugh of scorn.
Andrew shot a venomous look at him.
“ It would be in writing, of course," he
said, in a low voice.
Old Portman's fierce attitude relaxed,
his eyes kindled with the anticipation of tri-
umph. It was not difficult to foresee his
answer. It was then that I interposed.
“Mr. Schenck," I said quietly,“ if you
attempt any compromise, involving the es-
tate before the will is even brought to pro-
bate, I'll serve an injunction on you. You
don't own the property."
Schenck turned on me, white with fury.
“ Curse you!” he said, “ why do you
226


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
have been mighty disappointed that Miss
Holland didn't get more, but I be d-d if
you get her — or her portion!” and with
this delicate challenge, he flung himself out.
Portman was on his feet at the same mo-
ment.
“ I'll bid you good evening, gentlemen,"
he said, with a malicious chuckle; “ it's my
opinion that I'll buy that young cub, but
if I don't, I'll consider your terms. But
my price is set.”
“ He can make no legal agreement,” I
retorted;“I wish you good luck — with the
hundredth acre.”
He stood a moment looking at me with
a queer smile.
“By the Lord Harry,” he began, and
broke off, laughing, and laughed all the
way down stairs and was still laughing
when he slammed the front door behind
him.
There was something almost gruesome
in his harsh mirth, his coarsely suggested
triumph, and Lavaur and I sat staring at
each other with a keen sense of our own
insignificance as even pawns in the recent
moves. He was the first to laugh — rather
228


CHAPTER XVII
THE TUNNEL
In his excitement Lavaur was clumsy,
and it was some moments before he had
his finger on the spring and the sliding
panel slowly receded. I held my lamp
high and the light fell full on the figure of
a man standing in the narrow space be-
tween the turret and the secret staircase.
At first glance, I did not recognize him,
but Lavaur had evidently expected him.
“ Hello!” he said, “ I was right after
all!”
"Monsieur was right in every particu-
lar,” replied a voice that I began to rec-
ognize, and our visitor taking off his hat,
revealed the gray head and keen featured
face of the detective, M. Delcasse. At the
same moment he closed the slide of the
dark lantern he held in his hand and
stepped out into the room.
“ You must pardon me, messieurs," he
said politely, “ I am covered with dust and
230


THE TUNNEL
dirt, but I could not forbear announcing
my success.”
Lavaur clapped his hands softly, appar-
ently overcome with delight.
" Where was the trap?” he cried.
“ If monsieur will permit me — one mo-
ment,” Delcasse fumbled in his pocket and
drew out a large sheet of paper on which
there was some kind of a drawing. “A
pencil, M. Lavaur; ah, thanks, I will draw
the design in a moment; it is necessary to
make myself understood.”
He sat down at the table, spreading out
his papers, and Lavaur and I drew up our
chairs.
“May I ask how long you have been
burrowing?” I said mildly.
He smiled, elevating his brows a little.
“ The better part of two days, m'sieur,
and all this evening.”
I grunted. Here was devotion to duty;
the man's clothes were powdered with dust
and dirt and streaked with mould, and his
fingers were as red with rust as those of
the immortal Jerry Cruncher. Lavaur
was watching him with eager interest.
M. Delcasse produced the same slip of
paper that Lavaur had extracted from the
231


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
bureau drawer at No. 24 rue Taitbout.
“Here is your drawing, monsieur," he
said, “ and now I will complete it," and
he held it on another piece of paper and
commenced to outline rapidly.
wal
Closet
Closet
Closet
Collar)
| Storage
The torn plan from the rue Taitbout.
After a few moments, during which
we both watched him earnestly, he pushed
over the larger sheet.
Wall
Collar
stairs
Closet
Closet
Closet
Secret
star
Holt
Calla
Wall
Storage
Garden
dororo
punos
M. Delcasse's drawing.
232


THE TUNNEL
" That, messieurs, is, in rough, the out-
line of the tunnel from this house, on the
rue Fontaine St. Georges, to the house on
the rue Taitbout. It is, as m’sieur will
perceive, almost exactly in the line that
he indicated, and the reason that you could
not find the opening on this side was that
it was securely fastened underneath with
bolts that have been oiled within six weeks
or so, and are of a modern pattern. The
tunnel — or cellar — is old; the remains of
the old, old plan of these houses in the time
when men escaped by secret stairs, through
cellars and through traps.”
“In short then, M. Delcasse, this house
is entered from No. 24 rue Taitbout?” I
said sharply, “and Henry Persifal — the
mysterious and elusive Henry — is proba-
bly the man who oiled those bolts and en-
tered here?"
M. Delcasse smiled. “Possibly, mon-
sieur," he said, “ that is one of the deduc-
tions, but it is by no means certain. Yet
the drawing that M. Lavaur discovered in
his bureau drawer would seem to support
that theory."
“I am to understand that this search
was concerted between you and my friend
233


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
here without my knowledge?” I continued.
Lavaur laughed good humoredly. “ Par-
don me, Brinton," he said, “I wanted to
be sure, before I confessed my suspicions,
and I got M. Delcasse to take those rooms
on the rue Taitbout and he has been search-
ing there. You see, this fragment of a
plan gave the cellars of that house, No.
24; the plan was apparently correct in
every particular but one; we could not find
that entrance to the tunnel. It was masked
there as the staircase is here. How did
you find it, Delcasse?”
The detective smiled. “You remember,
m'sieur, that I applied for those two cellar
closets for storage for some barrels of pa-
pers belonging to my grandfather — a
newspaper man of note in Provence? Pre-
cisely; I was a long time in getting those
barrels arranged and in preparing to sort
the papers. I was encouraged because my
landlady, Mme. Enfin, confided to me that
her recent lodger had also rented store-
rooms in the cellar. Evidently, we were
men of a strange similarity in tastes. But
it was a long while before I found the open-
ing in the alcove in the last closet and then
discovered a flight of stone steps — six or
234


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
sifal knew, or came with directions from
some one who did know. He could not
have supposed such a thing without previ-
ous knowledge of both houses, and he evi-
dently did know exactly what to do. It is
immensely important to discover this man,
and I can assure you, messieurs, that I shall
use my best endeavors."
“I cannot imagine who this man is,” I
reflected; “I did not know that Dr. Lloyd
had an enemy."
“Let monsieur consider that point with
care," said M. Delcasse;" it is well to look
into the unfortunate gentleman's past; it
is there that the key will be found. Possi-
bly some woman may have had cause to
seek revenge, some "
“ You didn't know the man," I retorted,
with some impatience; “ he wasn't at all
that sort."
The detective bowed, he was deferential
but he was unconvinced.
“ It is very difficult, m'sieur, to read
complex characters. The gentleman was
no longer very young? Sixty odd? Ah!"
he elevated brows and shoulders; “ how
many years to make a record. It is not
possible to look it all over at a glance. If
236


THE TUNNEL
he had not bitter enemies, at least, there
must have been estrangements. Jealous-
ies? — he was rich — he was peculiar.”
“If you had been here half an hour ago
you would have seen his most pronounced
enemy and rival in a long lawsuit, Mr. Hez
Portman.”
" Ah,” said M. Delcasse softly, “I
should like to see him.”
“ It is quite worth while," I remarked,
with a smile.
He looked at me slightly perplexed.
Lavaur rose. “Come,” he said, “I
want to see this passage.”
“ It is very dirty, m'sieur,” said poor
Delcasse, with despair written on his face.
“Oh, that's of no account,” replied La-
vaur cheerfully;“ we each carry a light -
so as to avoid it. Will you lead us, M.
Delcasse?”
The detective rose with something like
a sigh.
“ You will follow with some care, mes-
sieurs, for the way is rather rough and
unexpected.”
“ Queer old rookery,” remarked Lavaur
cheerfully, “ and queer old way of escap-
ing. This is certainly mediæval.”
237


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
M. Delcasse used his lantern and we were
obliged to proceed in single file. We en-
tered the closet and descended the stairs
that Lavaur and I had explored together.
On reaching the place between the walls
in the cellar, M. Delcasse warned us to be
careful as he had left the trap open. It
was a square hole in the floor which was of
large flag stones; one of these opened up
like a door; we could see the recently
greased hinges in the light of our lamps.
An unpleasant odor of mould and earth
assailed our nostrils and a huge rat skur-
ried past diving into the opening. Del-
casse warned us again, this time to be care-
ful that no chance draught extinguished
our lights and then we plunged down the
steps which had been recently cleared by
some one who had dug away the accumula-
tion of ages. At the foot of the steps, we
landed on a flint pavement, and found our-
selves in a tunnel — or narrow cellar —
underground. Delcasse and Lavaur could
stand upright, but I— who was consider-
ably taller — had to stoop to escape knock-
ing my head on the low arches. I raised
my lamp and looked at the walls as we
passed; they still held but they oozed with
tion of who had 14 recently
238


THE TUNNEL
slime and mould and now and then the way
was slippery underfoot. It had taken no
small courage and a mighty passion of hate
to carry any one through this tomb-like
place with murder in his heart. I could not
imagine who this enemy was. We made
our way slowly, stumbling as we went, and
the detective pointed out, here and there,
the signs of recent use — that is, as recent
as a month or six weeks before. There was
a place on the wall where the mould had
been rubbed off by contact with an elbow or
a shoulder, there were other places where
refuse had been shovelled away; some hu-
man mole had burrowed here with the fiend-
ish patience that is given to some criminals
in pursuit of their nefarious ends. As we
approached the outlet into the other house,
M. Delcasse told us not to talk. He
thought it improbable that any one should
have intruded into his cellar closet, but pre-
caution was infinitely wise. Here, as in
the house on the rue Fontaine St. Georges,
stone steps ascended and here, too, the door
opened up and let us into a space between
the wall of the house and the false parti-
tion.
Both Lavaur and I were now nearly as
239


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
dirty and green stained as our guide, and
we only stayed long enough to ascertain
the ease with which the secret visitor could
emerge from the subterranean passage.
We could make no comments, for M. Del-
casse was sternly silent, and after exam-
ining the freshly oiled locks and hinges,
we retraced our steps as rapidly as possi-
ble.
Once out of ear shot of No. 24, I asked
Lavaur if he was satisfied with his discov-
eries.
“I am delighted,” he retorted, with a
chuckle, and went on to tell Delcasse of
Portman's latest move, the return of the
purchaser of the poison.
We were by this time stumbling up the
stairs to Dr. Lloyd's quarters and I could
not see the detective's face.
" A woman is not always so easy to
probe, m'sieur,” he said gravely, casting
a blight on Lavaur's optimism. “A wom-
an will not betray one she loves — not wit-
tingly — and she is often difficult to handle
as a witness. But M. le Prefect will be
glad to see her.”
There was one thing in this novel aspect
240


THE TUNNEL
of the case, however, which gave me an
unusual feeling of relief.
" At least," I said, “ this discovery
seems to help to eliminate old Cartouche
from the case, and to confirm his state-
ment that the cellar door was locked the
morning after the murder."
“But it was not locked, m'sieur,” re-
plied Delcasse mildly.
“It was not locked?" I repeated slow-
ly; “ are you advised of this?”.
"M'sieur, I was here — on that morn-
ing — with M. le Maire," replied Del-
casse, “I was here before you got here.
The first door I tried was that. It was
not locked then, and no suspicion of mur-
der arose until some hours afterwards. It
not only was not locked but the key had
fallen on the floor; I myself replaced it."
" Then Cartouche lied," I said, " and
that is a bad point against him.”
"A man will often lie at such times
from terror,” said the detective smooth-
ly;“ but he may have forgotten, and when
he thought of it he found it locked, for I
shut and locked it myself.”
Lavaur walked up and down the room
rubbing his hands softly and smiling.
241


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
“ 'Pon my soul,” he said, “ it is really
interesting. Have a glass of wine, Del-
casse. No, Brinton, stay – it is not Cha-
teau Yquem."
"I will stay, but no wine," I said stiffly,
and caught M. Delcasse looking at me at-
tentively, much as a cat watches a mouse.
I turned hot all over; confound the man!
Did he think? I got up and opened a win-
dow; the air choked me. Outside there was
a light mist which veiled the commonplace
aspect of the streets, but the sounds of the
city were cheerful and reassuring; even
this place — with its hideous secret — was
prosaic, for I heard Lavaur pulling a cork!
I shut the window with a snap and bade
them good night, nor could they induce me
to stay. I put on my overcoat and hat and
went out into the murky night; the wind
had gone down and the fog was thickening,
a vapor from damp streets and steaming
roofs. The street lamps blinked like great
eyes; I was beset by the memory of the
bowed black-clad figure in the cage at the
Nouvelle Force, and the knotted, old, toil-
worn hands that clasped the bars while old
Cartouche had cast his looks of deep sus-
picion at me. I began - I believe — to
242


THE TUNNEL
suspect myself, so fiercely can a charge like
this come home. While I thought of these
things I became conscious — as I had been
once or twice before — that I was followed,
and I remembered M. Delcasse saying that
I had been shadowed ever since Lloyd's
death. I was of two minds about turning
back to fight the whole police force of Paris
and then — I do not know why - I sudden-
ly remembered Anice Holland and forbore
to make myself ridiculous.
243


A MANAGING AUNT
talk to you better than I could write. Of
course, you know that it's this unpleasant
matter of Dr. Lloyd's will?”
“ I assumed as much," I replied, taking
the chair that she indicated — a stiff and
uninviting one, by the way — and giving
her my undivided attention.
“Of course, when I came over here, I
felt that I had everything virtually ar-
ranged," she went on, with ill-suppressed
displeasure; “I brought up my niece,
Anice Holland; I was one of her legal
guardians until she was of age, and I feel
that I am the person — of all others — who
should receive her confidence and obedi-
ence. But, no sooner did she get here and
fall under the influence of that very frivo-
lous person, Lady Bentinck, than she began
to disregard my plans. I can assure you,
Mr. Brinton, that it is very embarrassing
and I can't stand it at all! I sent for you
- frankly, I sent for you to say that Anice
acted without authority and very foolishly
in asking you to be her lawyer; I had al-
ready engaged Mr. Gibbs and — I am sure
you see how impossible it is! She has been
very foolish and — of course you will re-
lease her from such an arrangement."
245


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
“ I appreciate your embarrassment, Mrs.
Erckmann," I said, “ but does Miss Hol-
land regret her arrangement? Are you
authorized to speak for her?".
She looked at me with ill concealed ire
in her small blue eyes.
"I should think I had told you enough
to show my authority," she said sharply.
“Pardon me," I replied suavely, “but
Miss Holland is of age and has full author-
ity to act for herself. Of course, I appre-
ciate your position and all its embarrass-
ments, but I feel myself under an engage-
ment to act for her, and I feel honored by
her choice. If she, on the other hand, feels
that she has made a mistake, I shall in-
stantly withdraw.”
“ In other words, Mr. Brinton, you don't
care for my feelings, or anything else," she
cried hotly, turning still redder; " I must
say frankly that I think it's presumption.
I couldn't have told you any plainer how I
felt, if I tried — and you persist in holding
on to this case? Really, I-I— " she
broke off breathless. The black jets with
which her silk dress was covered seemed
to scintillate on her palpitating bosom.
“My dear madam," I said gently, con-
246


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
should be no suit. Oh, yes, I know what
you want to argue, but you know what the
Scriptures say? Lawyers' devour wid-
ows' houses. All you lawyers want to do,
is to get a case like this into court and,
good heavens, she'd be gray before she
saw the money!”
Angry as I was at the woman's insolence
and prejudice, I could not forbear a smile.
6. The law's delay'is a proverb, Mrs.
Erckmann," I retorted," but I am not sure
that I could swallow a widow's house even
had I the appetite. Having drawn the true
will for Dr. Lloyd, I have but one desire
and that is to see your niece get that which
is rightly hers.”
She smiled — a thin acid smile, looking
at me shrewdly.
“My dear sir,” she said, with an at-
tempt at coolness, “ it is hinted that my
niece's inheritance is quite an inducement
for you lawyers to espouse her cause."
I rose. “Madam," I said sternly, “I
am not at loss to divine who suggested that
motive to you. It is quite true that I love
your niece - it is premature to say so —
but I do love her with entire disinterested-
ness, and if she wishes me to give up the
248


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
she remarked, “ for I have an engage-
ment.”
“Don't let me detain you," I replied,
with gallantry; “ I particularly desire to
speak to Miss Holland.”
Anice had not said a word; she stood
with her hand on the back of a high chair,
the picture of charming confusion.
“My niece also has an engagement,” re-
torted Mrs. Erckmann.
“My dear aunt," said the girl gently,
“I am here to — I have no engagement
now.”
Her aunt gave her a furious look and
leaned back in her chair with tightly com-
pressed lips.
“ Miss Holland," I said, “ Mrs. Erck-
mann sent for me this morning to inform
me that my services were not desired in the
impending suit over Dr. Lloyd's will. I
told her that I felt that it was for you to
decide about that. I am ready to serve
you to the end, but — on the other hand —
if you would prefer another attorney, I am
quite as ready to withdraw."
The girl gave her aunt a quick indignant
glance.
“I asked you to take my case, Mr. Brin-
250


A MANAGING AUNT
as your attorney,” I said, “ unless other-
wise notified by you,” and I bowed to Mrs.
Erckmann.
“ Of all the impertinence!” she re-
marked, sotto voce.
Anice held out her hand again; she was
blushing up to her pretty little ears and
her eyes were shy of mine.
" Au révoir," I said softly," and believe
me — rash as it is to say so — all that you
heard is true.”
Her hand fluttered in mine and she gave
me a sweet shy glance. I passed out deep-
ly moved and flushed with hope.
It was hard, indeed, to leave her to bat-
tle with that vulgar, ill-tempered woman,
to leave her without saying more — much
more, no matter how premature such
speech would be. I confess that I was car-
ried away, and, for the moment, elated.
She had heard my declaration to her aunt,
she could not have misunderstood it, nor
what I had said to her, and she had not
discouraged me! I walked on air and, such
being the case, had not the sense to avoid
an interview with Lord Bentinck, little as
I desired to talk to ordinary mortals then,
to return – in fact — from Arcady.
253


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
Bentinck caught me at the elevator.
“Oh,” he ejaculated, “ awfully glad to
see you, Brinton, don't you know I was just
on my way over. Serena's got an extraor-
dinary letter. She's simply crazy to show
it to you. Come right in and see it. It's
from Mr. Portman.”
“Oh!" I ejaculated, putting aside the
excuse I had been framing; “ does it bear
on the case?"
" Well, I think the old duffer has simply
gone crazy,” he retorted, good humoredly;
“but Serena is wild with delight and curi-
osity. She'll explain.”
As he spoke we reached the door of their
suite of apartments and Lady Serena was
revealed in a pink morning gown with ar-
tistically dishevelled curls and a general
air of excited elation.
"Oh, what luck!” she cried; " where
did you find him, Tommy?”
" At the elevator,” replied her spouse,
with his usual matter of fact manner.
Serena viewed me with the eye of a great
general — in female shape, and she dis-
played a genius for discovering details.
“ You have been to see Anice," she de-
clared at once," and she was evidently nice
254


CHAPTER XIX
THE OFFERS TO COMPROMISE
In spite of the eagerness of Lady Serena
We were compelled to move slowly. We
had no more power to make an agreement
with Portman than Schenck had, and I had
to point out the difficulty of surrendering
the hundredth acre before we had it. Even
if Anice Holland acted with Lady Bentinck,
we were powerless to make more than a
conditional bargain, and was Portman's
information worth the barter? There was
grave doubt. Lord Bentinck was pecu-
liarly sensitive to this form of argument
and brought the force of his disapproval
to bear on his wife's impetuosity and kept
her from writing personally to the old man.
I promised to see Hez for her, but I
was destined to quite another kind of an
interview before that.
I confess that, once safely out of the
hotel, I felt less interest in Hez Portman
and the hundredth acre than I did in Anice
Holland's blushes and smiles. A great
257


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
as it is — Hang it all, can't you see that
I want to be generous.”
I had remained standing and so had he,
but he sat down now on the edge of the
table opposite and rapped his knuckles on
it.
“ What do you want to do?" I asked
coolly.
“ Compromise, of course," he said, with
an off-hand manner, “ give the girls a
chance — something handsome and close
the whole business up.”
I laughed outright. “We don't consid-
er that you are in a position to give,” I
retorted; “ we contend that under the true
will you have nothing to divide with my
clients.”
" That's all d-d nonsense,” he said
coarsely, “you can't break that will.
Don't you think I know bluff when I see
it?”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“I have no instructions to consider a
compromise," I said.
“Nevertheless, you can listen to my
proposition,” he said sharply; “it's not
often that a man in my position is willing
to offer terms."
260


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
claimed sharply; “ you want this suit to
come on so as to show off before Anice Hol-
land. Do you think I'm blind? But I can
tell you, if you get her you won't get a d-d
cent with her.”
“No one but a cad drags a woman's
name into such a discussion," I replied,
with scorn; “I do not care to hear more,
Mr. Schenck," and I turned away.
But he was persistent and followed me.
" It's the last time I shall make this
proposition," he said, “ and you'll lose the
chance altogether.”
I laughed. “I refer you to Mr. Port-
man,” I said maliciously;“ perhaps you'd
better compromise with him and so tie up
his tongue.”
Dn Portman!” he cried, “ and —
you for your insolence. I'll see to it that
you pay for this, John Brinton. You'll
lose your case and your reputation besides.
I— "he stopped, choking with impotent
rage.
His vehemence was attracting attention.
I picked up my hat and stick from the ta-
ble.
“I bid you good day, Mr. Schenck," I
said coolly and left him.
264


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
the money if she could be once safely mar-
ried to the heir. She would be sure to
stand between me and the girl as long as
she could, and I could only learn the truth
from Anice's own lips and I could not ac-
cept such a summary dismissal. I should
see her, and I straightway ceased to con-
sider Portman and Schenck. But, though
I went twice to the hotel that evening, I
failed to see her and was compelled to de-
vour my impatience and wait until morning
when chance was more propitious than she
was.
268


CHAPTER XX
AN AGREEMENT
I had made three separate attempts to
see Anice at the hotel and was waxing des-
perate when I chanced upon the whole par-
ty entering the Louvre. Mrs. Erckmann
who had seen nothing, and never would see
anything with the seeing eye, was an inde-
fatigable tourist; she had the instinct that
leads to vandalism in the collection of sou-
venirs. Anice, on the other hand, loved
art for its own sake with a rare apprecia-
tion for a girl brought up with such limi-
tations. They had been doing the Louvre
at intervals ever since their arrival in
Paris which accounted for my search taking
that direction. As I have said, fate was
kinder to me than Anice, for Lady Serena
was with them, and Lady Serena was cer-
tainly gifted with the art of divination.
No sooner did she see the constraint with
which Anice greeted me, and the feeling
which I tried in vain to dismiss from my
manner, than she telegraphed a look of
269


AN AGREEMENT
“I received your note,” I said gravely,
" and I regret that you do not care for my
services, though, of course, I wanted you
to feel at liberty to dispense with them at
will."
She blushed deeply and her eyes were
troubled.
“ But I do care,” she said simply; “I
want you to understand that I do care —
I should have been so pleased to have you
represent me, but — but it did not seem
best."
“I cannot quite understand," I said
bluntly; “ your aunt thinks that I will in-
jure your cause? I know that Schenck has
poisoned her mind with the charge that I
am liable to suspicion in this case. If I
had felt that there was the slightest imped-
iment in the way of my serving you, I
should never have offered to do so. For
myself it does not matter - but I beg of
you not to unite your legal interests with
Schenck's, it would be fatal. But — per-
haps, I go too far; I have no right to ad-
vise."
“I am so sorry,” she said with a break
in her voice; “I was forced to do it - I
am " she broke off.
271


AN AGREEMENT
Mrs. Erckmann bore down upon us, the
redness of her complexion accentuated by
the purple orchid that nodded in the ag-
gressive front of her bonnet. Lady Se-
rena walking behind looked the picture of
comic despair.
" Anice, we're going at once!” said her
aunt, sharply.
Anice turned without a word and held
out her hand to me; she did not even smile
but her eyes were softly luminous.
“Mrs. Erckmann," I said gravely,
“ have you seen Mr. Schenck? He is of-
fering to compromise — almost at any
terms to save himself a share."
Her jaw fell and she stared at me like a
vicious fish.
" I don't believe he needs to,” she said
harshly, “ and I'm sure that I — for one
- should be glad to hear of it.”
“Don't you listen to it, Miss Holland,”
I advised.
" She shall not,” declared Lady Serena,
" I shall not let her! Come over to tea at
five, John, but see Hez Portman first."
I thanked her with more fervor and sin-
cerity than a mere invitation to tea re-
quired, and she laughed a little, her hand
275


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
ach feels like a garbage can. I'd give
something handsome for a good, plain dish
of cabbage and bacon.”
" The French are considered past mas-
ters of the culinary art," I remarked, sup-
pressing a smile.
“Culinary art be d-d!” he replied
heartily;“ I like good Yankee cooking and
no frills ;-I like bed!»,
He leaned back in his chair and sipped
his cocktail with the air of a man resigned
to small discomforts.
“I s'pose you've come to talk business,"
he went on, after this momentary interrup-
tion.
" I've come in reply to your letter to
Lady Bentinck," I said briefly; “ I'm her
attorney."
He nodded, giving me a shrewd look.
" Well, sir,” he said, with the manner
of a man who enjoyed the situation," what
are your terms?”
“ Our terms can scarcely be stated with-
out some idea of the value of your revela-
tions," I replied.
He laughed, striking his knee with the
open palm of his hand.
“ By Jove," he said, “ do you think I'm
278


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
east side of Lloyd's farm and Meadow
Farm brook.”
I smiled. “ If you will eliminate
Schenck from the case," I said, “ I'll prom-
ise that." I regarded the offer as an im-
possibility.
“ You'll put that in writing,” he de-
manded, clapping his hand down on the
table.
I hesitated a moment. Could I act for
Anice? I thought so.
“I will put that conditional agreement
on paper,” I said.
He turned crimson. He pushed the ink-
stand and a sheet of paper toward me and
I wrote down my acknowledgment of his
offer with the qualified agreement. Then
he drank off the remainder of his cocktail
standing and pitched the glass into the
fire-place.
" That's to the hundredth acre!” he ex-
claimed, “ for — by the Lord Harry —
I've got it at last!”
I rose. “You're apparently not ready
to deliver the goods today," I remarked
dryly.
He shook his head. "No," he replied,
“but I have an interesting piece of news
282


AN AGREEMENT
for you," and he fumbled in his pocket
producing a telegram which he read
through with apparent relish.
“ You'll be interested in this,” he said,
and tossed it across the table.
I picked it up and read the few words it
contained.
“ Arrived at Havre today. Please send
instructions.
Mattie.”
For a moment I was nonplussed and then
its full significance dawned upon me; it
was the woman with the red hat! I re-
turned the paper coolly.
“She must have been arrested by this
time,” I said; “ the police have been wait-
ing for her at Havre.”
He laughed contemptuously. “Much
good that'll do you," he said;“ she's game
and she'll not tell you much.”
“She may when she gets behind the
bars," I retorted.
“My dear sir,” said old Hez Portman
grimly, “when you put her behind the
bars you'll do more harm to your case than
good and you'll lose all your best chances.
You're young and you're green,” and he
283


CHAPTER XXI
A STARTLING REVELATION
Matters remained in abeyance for twen-
ty-four hours and then I received a letter
from Hez Portman appointing a meeting at
Lavaur's lodgings for that evening at eight
o'clock, when, he indicated, there would be
revelations. I had already informed La-
vaur of what had transpired and he was
deeply interested.
“ It looks as if Portman had a hand in
it," I remarked.
He mused awhile. " It looks so," he
finally admitted, “but, my dear Jack, it is
like fancying a bear on a diplomatic mis-
sion, and he's going to cut up bear antics,
I have no doubt.”
We spent considerable time in unprofita-
ble speculations on the probabilities, but
we could not imagine what charge he in-
tended to enter against Schenck that would
remove him from the contest, and we ar-
rived at no satisfactory conclusions.
Though I was not without some dim pre-
285


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
“I am not a credulous person,” I said;
“ you have a motive."
He laughed and looked at me, a ciga-
rette between his fingers.
“ You're right, Jack, I have,” he said.
“I'm in it, too. I was here that day —
February sixth — and rang this very
door bell and yet no one has brought it
out.”
“ You were here?” I repeated, in per-
plexity," and saw Lloyd ?”
He shook his head. "No," he replied,
" acquit me of that suspicion. He was out
and so was Cartouche; Marie interviewed
me."
I sat thinking; it was a blow to me —
this admission; what did it mean?
“Why did you speak of him as you did
the next morning and refuse to see him?"
I demanded gravely.
“I'll make a clean breast of it,” he said.
“ I came here to borrow money."
" But I thought- "
“You thought that I was rich? Well,
I'm not,” he shrugged his shoulders.
“ I've run through a lot — and will prob-
ably run through a lot more. I wanted
five thousand — wanted it badly to save
288


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
grains of poison — which might, after all,
have been self-administered—and yet, one
after another, we were all coming under
the baleful charge; it was like the touch of
some evil magic.
For the second time, I heard the two
coming up stairs together and I was
strangely perturbed. I think if Dr. Lloyd
had appeared in his chair by the table it
would have caused me no surprise. Port-
man came in with a grim face; there was
no triumph in his manner but a certain
grim determination that defied us. I did
not offer to shake hands with him and he
took a chair without comment. He was a
stout, big-shouldered man with short legs
and he looked much larger seated than
when standing. He leaned forward with
his hands on his knees as usual and looked
from one to the other.
"Well,” he said, after a moment, “ I've
come to make a statement that'll be of more
value to you than you s'pose, and I
wouldn't make it if I didn't trust you;' he
stopped and then addressed himself almost
solely to me. “ I've watched you conduct
the suit,” he said, “ and I believe you're
290


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
Then the light broke in on me and I saw
many things in new shapes.
“ Mr. Portman,” I cried, “can you prove
this beyond a doubt?"
“ Prove it?" he said, scornfully,“ prove
it! Of course, I can. Don't I know it in-
side out, and haven't I a witness to the
Schenck baby's death?”
I leaned back in my chair with a deep
sigh of relief — almost of joy.
“ If that is the case,” I said, “ it's well
worth your price? I believe Dr. Lloyd
would have paid it for the truth.”
The strange old man gave me a look in
which his fierce enmity seemed kindled
anew.
“I'd have seen him " he stopped,
gritting his teeth; “ do you think I didn't
laugh at him — for coddling old mule-
driving Jim's cub, and that sleek old devil
Widow. Buyse's? I calculate that she let
enough out of his pockets to even up
things. The pair of 'em - she and her
boy — had set on to pick him and I was
glad enough to let 'em do it.”
“Are you prepared to confront Mrs.
Buyse?" I asked; “ to force her to con-
fess — that's the main point?”
294


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
de police and a gendarme, both in full
uniform, appeared behind him. I had seen
the commissaire at the time of Lloyd's
death and I nodded. He advanced toward
me drawing a paper from his pocket. In
an instant, I knew all and rose to my feet.
“M. Jean Brinton,” he said formally,
“I have here a warrant for your arrest;
you are charged with the murder of M.
Henri Lloyd, in this house, on the sixth
day of February, 1902.”
"I deny that accusation," I said calmly.
“ I am innocent.”
And at that moment the bell rang sharp-
ly again.
296


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
tially lifted, revealing her sallow and ex-
pressionless face and she carried a note
from Lady Serena in her hand. When she
came in and saw the rather remarkable
gathering, she showed some little surprise
but maintained her rigidly proper manner,
looking from Hez Portman to the commis-
saire, and from the commissaire to me.
Lavaur entering the room behind her
closed the door.
“Will you wait a few minutes, M. le
Commissaire?” he said, “ and then we will
go with you and your prisoner to your of-
fice on the rue d'Anjou. M. Delcasse is
due here in ten minutes at latest. More-
over, I wish you to hear what this gentle-
man will say to Mrs. Leah Buyse.”
The commissaire sat down stiffly, glaring
aside at me as if he wondered at my indif-
ference, though I was really far from indif-
ferent, for my thoughts had flown to Anice
and the mortification was keen. However,
I could not resist the warrant in any sensa-
tional way and I was wondering if I should
be admitted to bail. I was strongly inter-
ested, too, in Lavaur; after his statement to
me, I almost expected that he would be in
trouble soon, but there was no hint of it.
298


PORTMAN'S WITNESS
" but I guess you can't prove it and I'm
not scared.”
“Oh, no, you're game,” he said, with
evident relish for the situation; “ you're
a play actor, Leah, first rate, and it's a
pity that a term in the penitentiary may
sort of keep you off the stage."
“You're very cruel to a lone widow,”
she whined, “ but you always were a hard
man, Hez Portman; I've heard Jim say
that you were as hard as nails.”
" Eh?” he ejaculated chuckling, “ well,
it's worth while to know what your mule
team driver thinks of you!”
" And a sight of other folks,” said the
woman spitefully, “ and if that's all, I
reckon I can go back to Lady Bentinck
now."
“ Not yet, my good woman," replied La-
vaur smiling, “ we have need of you."
“I can't stay,” she said sharply, look-
ing for the first time thoroughly fright-
ened; “I promised to go back; Lady Ben-
tinck wants me at once."
Lavaur smiled yet more broadly.
“ There's a gendarme on the landing of
the stairs, Mrs. Buyse,” he said mildly,
303


PORTMAN'S WITNESS
been arrested by this time,” he said, “ and
you are wanted here to identify him.”
She clasped her hands tightly and looked
down.
“I do not know such a person," she
said, with dry lips.
"No," retorted Lavaur, with a short
laugh, “I do not think you do, but you
will be able, perhaps, to identify the pris-
oner.”
" You're all hard on me, sir,” she said
discreetly; " and it's all along of that hard
old man and his story — and it isn't true
- it isn't true!"
Hez Portman chuckled softly. " Oh,
ain't it?” he said. “I've got a pocket full
of affidavits, Leah," and he drew some
papers out and snapped them on his fin-
gers.
She tightened her lips and drew back as
if she resisted an impulse to snatch them,
but she said nothing.
Meanwhile, the commissaire had pocket-
ed the plans of the tunnel and now looked
at his watch.
" We can't wait any longer, m'sieur," he
said to Lavaur.
I rose. " What's the use, Lavaur?” I
305


PORTMAN'S WITNESS
old Jim, who used to drive my mule team
to the saw-mills.”
Lady Serena sat down in the nearest
chair and looked at him with round blue
eyes.
“My dear Mr. Portman,” she said,
" that's the very nicest thing I have ever
heard. I've always been ashamed of him!
Can it be true?”
The old man eyed her with interest; her
pretty face, her furbelows and ruffles, her
blue toque and the violets at her throat.
Slowly a smile broke over his face.
“ Well," he said, “ I'm derned if I ain't
glad I did it!"
Mrs. Buyse fixed sullen eyes on Lady
Serena.
“ There ain't a word of truth in it," she
said, with white lips.
Her mistress turned coldly and gave her
a haughty glance.
“I did not address you, Buyse," she re-
marked, with the air of a grande dame.
Lord Bentinck would not sit down.
“ Really,” he protested, “ really, you
know, Serena, this is very unusual."
“Oh, do hush, Tommy," she said, irre-
pressible as ever; “ I can't sit still and
307


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
.
But she was looking past him straight
at Mrs. Buyse, and she turned white to the
lips under that matron's gaze.
“ Didn't she substitute her own baby
for Mrs. Schenck's, Mattie?” prompted
Portman.
Mattie laid hold of the back of a chair;
her lips shook.
" She did that, sir,” she admitted. “I
knew it, and old Mrs. Rice knew it up to
home. She's paid us to keep quiet, and
somehow — at first it didn't seem to mat-
ter much and we felt kinder sorry for the
baby, so we kept close — and then she paid
us."
" You're a liar!” cried Mrs. Buyse.
“ Goodness gracious!” cried Lady Se-
rena, looking around at us all;“ who is this
person?”
It was M. Delcasse who answered her
with great politeness.
“ It is the woman who bought the poison,
madame,” he said, with a bow.
“Oh!" gasped Lady Serena; “ what
next?"
Lavaur turned to the commissaire.
“ Monsieur,” he said, “ we are ready to
310


CHAPTER XXIII
MOTHER AND SON
In Paris a little red glass lantern hung
at the door announces the residence of a
commissaire de police in each arrondisse-
ment of the city. It is the police station of
the precinct, to use a homely term, and to
one of these we all went on that night. The
room, with its desk for the commissaire,
and its official stenographer, and its tele-
phone, was neither large nor well-lighted
and was a curious background for our
strangely assorted party. Mrs. Buyse,
Mattie and I found ourselves ranged,
on one side with the gendarmes, while
Lady Serena and Lord Bentinck, Hez Port-
man and Lavaur sat opposite. The com-
missaire took his place at the desk and M.
Delcasse presented his report on the mys-
terious murder of Dr. Henry Lloyd.
Lady Serena looked up in surprise and
caught my eye; she had evidently been ab-
sorbed in the thought of Andrew Schenck
and the murder had dropped below her
312


MOTHER AND SON
with him when Mme. Enfin went out to the
theatre. When Mme. Enfin returned at
half after eleven she met Mr. Persifal com-
ing from the cellar. He excused his pres-
ence there at that hour on the ground that
he had been packing. He then notified her
that he should leave in the morning and
paid her bill. She does not know what
time Mrs. Buyse left the house, but the
night watchman on that street says that a
veiled woman left that house at a quarter
after twelve, after the lights were out in
all the rooms visible from the sidewalk.
He followed her and traced her to the shop
of Mlle. Sapeurs on the rue de la Chaussée
d’Antin. When the supposed Henry Per-
sifal left the next day he threw away an old
pair of shoes. I have them to offer in evi-
dence; they are marked with the mould and
clay from the floor of the tunnel between
the house on the rue Taitbout and the
house on the rue Fontaine St. Georges.
"On February 20, Mrs. Mattie Jacobs,
formerly a chambermaid for Mrs. Schenck,
the mother of Mr. Andrew Schenck, and
in the pay of Mrs. Buyse, bought the poison
in London and sent it to Mrs. Buyse in
Paris without knowing for what purpose it
315


MOTHER AND SON
6. All that has been said is true,” he said,
in a strange voice,“ except one point; the
inference that I killed Dr. Lloyd. I never
thought of killing him. I knew that he
had made a will cutting me off, and that a
forged will — forged by an evil-minded
person — who has stood at my elbow like
the devil prompting me to all my wrong-
doing — was to be substituted for the true
will, and was so substituted almost at the
time it was made — that was in December,
1902 — the whole thing being contrived
and carried out by the same person; I was
never so adroit! Dr. Lloyd was always
closely watched and when he withdrew the
will — the forgery – from the bank and
took it to his rooms, we planned to get it —
before he found out the forgery — or to
get the will he intended to make — if it dis-
criminated against me. I never went
further than that, I never went further
than the cellar of his house to wait for —
that woman! It was she who put the poi-
son in his wine; she told me it was a sleep-
ing potion; she tricked and fooled me and
then I could not betray her, without betray-
ing my own part in the — the effort to get
a will in my favor. She murdered my un-
317


MOTHER AND SON
me lie for you, and steal for you — and, at
last, kill for you. But you — you are mur-
dering your own mother!”
Her hand had been fumbling at the
bosom of her dress; she lifted a paper
swiftly to her lips and then she turned to
Hez Portman.
" You've got your hundredth acre, old
man, and much good may it do you!" she
cried, and shivered a little as if she felt
suddenly cold. " Good-by,” she said, hold-
ing out both shaking hands toward An-
drew; “ good-by, my son. I kept enough
of Dr. Lloyd's draught to help me out of
all trouble — I'm gone, too!” and her head
fell forward.
The woman was sinking into a stupor, the
effect of some drug that she had swallowed,
and her son stood up and cursed her, call-
ing her a liar, a thief, a murderess, until
a gendarme put his hand over his mouth.
Lavaur took a little bit of dark brown
woolen cloth from his pocket and, bending
down, fitted it in the edge of Mrs. Buyse's
flounce.
“ It is the very skirt she wore on the
sixth of February,” he remarked; “I
319


THE HUNDREDTH ACRE
found this on the floor in Dr. Lloyd's study
the day after his death."
Meanwhile, a gendarme had gone at a
run for a physician, but it was easy to see
that it was too late.
Lady Serena had hidden her face on Ben-
tinck's arm and was crying softly.
The commissaire turned to me and
bowed.
“ Monsieur, I beg your pardon," he said;
"you are, of course, discharged.”
It was many months afterwards that I
walked across the lawn at Broad Acres, Dr.
Lloyd's old place near Boston. It was
midsummer and the slopes were green.
Behind lay a strip of pine woods, before us
the land dropped suddenly and gave a wide
glimpse of the sea. The sun glinted on
white sails that moved slowly like wings
against the distance. The air was fragrant
and the whole scene was radiantly full of
summer time.
Anice Holland stood beside me looking
down at a spot some hundred yards or more
away where the surveyors were at work.
« Old Hez has his hundredth acre at
320