THE TRIGGER OF 
 CONSCIENCE
 
 Books by 
 EGBERT ORR CHIPPERFIELD 
 
 THE SECOND BULLET 
 UNSEEN HANDS 
 
 THE MAN IN THE Jure 
 Box 
 
 THE TBIGGEE OF COW- 
 SCIENCE
 
 THE TRIGGER OF 
 CONSCIENCE 
 
 BY 
 ROBERT ORR CHIPPERPIELD 
 
 Author of "The Second Bullet," "Unseen 
 Hands," etc. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 ROBERT M. McBRIDE & COMPANY 
 1921
 
 Copyright, 1921, by 
 
 ROBEBT M. McBBIDE & CO. 
 
 Printed in the 
 
 United States of America 
 
 Published, 1921
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAOE 
 
 I 
 
 MR. GRANT INVITES CRITICISM . 
 
 1 
 
 IT 
 
 THE HORNET'S NEST 
 
 18 
 
 JL-L. 
 
 Ill 
 
 UNDER THE DRAGON LANTERN . 
 
 33 
 
 IV 
 
 THE GLISTENING STRAND 
 
 52 
 
 V 
 
 EENWICK CRANE ARRIVES 
 
 64 
 
 VI 
 
 "MORE THAN ONE" 
 
 83 
 
 VII 
 
 THE MAN IN THE BUSHES . 
 
 99 
 
 VIII 
 
 IN THE BOXWOOD BUSHES . . 
 
 115 
 
 IX 
 
 THE CURIOSITY OF MRS. SOWERBY . 
 
 132 
 
 X 
 
 THE WOMAN UPSTAIRS .... 
 
 148 
 
 XI 
 
 THE SHOT FROM THE AIR . 
 
 161 
 
 XII 
 
 "I KILLED HIM" 
 
 183 
 
 XIII 
 
 THE DRIVER OF DEATH .... 
 
 200 
 
 XIV 
 
 TELLTALE NUMERALS 
 
 214 
 
 XV 
 
 MRS. DORRANCE ADVANCES A THEORY 
 
 232 
 
 XVI 
 
 A PIECE OF RIBBON 
 
 249 
 
 XVII 
 
 THE SHADOW ON THE DOOR . 
 
 265 
 
 xvin 
 
 THE ROSE-LEAF EAR 
 
 280 
 
 XIX 
 
 "THE TRIANGLE TURN" . . 
 
 299 
 
 2134SS5
 
 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 MB. GRANT -INVITES CRITICISM 
 
 THE golf course of the Broadlawns Country 
 Club lay basking in the mellow sunshine of a 
 late September afternoon. Vivid coats and sweat- 
 ers made bright splashes of color, and the striped 
 awning of the marquee upon the lawn challenged 
 the eye as defiantly as at the commencement of 
 the season. But the stout, white-haired old gen- 
 tleman on the veranda shivered and tugged at the 
 collar of his too youthful sport coat. 
 
 "Hello, Sowerby! Been around to-day?" A 
 cold, rather gibing voice sounded just behind 
 him, and President Sowerby of the Tradesmen's 
 Bank turned irascibly in his chair, and the gaitered 
 foot, which had rested carefully upon the veranda 
 rail, slipped to the floor. 
 
 Just behind him stood a handsome man of about 
 forty. The telltale lines about his shrewd eyes 
 and the curious patch, like a white postage stamp, 
 
 1
 
 2 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 in the dark hair above each ear, only added to an 
 engaging countenance. 
 
 "Confound you, Bowles!" Rutherford Sowerby 
 exclaimed as he recognized the newcomer. "Why 
 do you sneak up on those rubber soles of yours 
 like a stage detective?" 
 
 He paused with a snort, and the other, in the 
 freedom of old acquaintanceship, laughed and 
 perched himself on the veranda rail. "Sorry I 
 startled you. Little touch of the gout to-day?" 
 he asked with half-bantering sympathy. 
 
 "No, it isn't!" the old gentleman lied bravely. 
 "I'm waiting for my wife; never knew a woman 
 to be on time yet! How was the market? I 
 didn't run into town this morning." 
 
 "Pretty steady," the broker responded ab- 
 sently, his eyes upon two figures, which, unseen 
 by his older companion, had started around the 
 corner of the veranda. One was a young woman 
 not yet out of her twenties, pretty in a fluffy, col- 
 orless, rather insipid fashion, and the other was a 
 slightly older man with a dapper little blond mus- 
 tache and prominent light blue eyes. 
 
 The couple halted instantly, and the woman 
 flushed and made a slight, almost imperceptible 
 motion of dismissal. Her companion, accepting 
 his dismissal, disappeared around the corner of
 
 MR. GRANT INVITES CRITICISM 3 
 
 the veranda, and she came forward biting her full 
 lips. Bowles, the broker, smiled inwardly at the 
 incident. The woman was Sowerby's young wife, 
 and Philip Dorrance, treasurer popularly known 
 as "husband" of the Farr Rubber Company, 
 had been her companion. Ogden Bowles raised 
 his voice slightly and added in his bantering tone : 
 "There wasn't much movement on the Exchange, 
 but rubber seems to be booming. Good afternoon, 
 Mrs. Sowerby!" He rose, and young Mrs. Sow- 
 erby flushed as he had meant that she should 
 and darted a venomous glance at him. 
 
 1 i Good afternoon, ' ' she replied sweetly. ' * Have 
 you met the new secretary of the club the one 
 whom the committee engaged to succeed poor Mr. 
 Martin? Mrs. Carter says he is rather a grouch, 
 but I believe he refused to advance her any money 
 this afternoon to pay her bridge debt. He told 
 her that her account on the books was already 
 quite heavy for this month, and, being a new man, 
 he couldn't take the responsibility without con- 
 sulting the secretary of the club, Mr. Estridge." 
 She smiled and turned to her husband. "Have I 
 kept you waiting, dear? I stopped for a minute 
 to speak to the Frasers and Mr. Dorrance. They 
 were watching Gerald Landon and Miss Dare 
 finish their round."
 
 4 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 Bowles* face had darkened for an instant at 
 her thrust at Mrs. Carter. Ignoring her remark 
 about the secretary, he repeated, as he prepared 
 to depart: "Gerald Landon? That young friend 
 of the Frasers? I hope he shows up well later in 
 the tournament, for he's made the only decent 
 scores here this season. By the way, I understand 
 he is the assistant cashier at your bank, Sowerby ? 
 What we need here is young blood to put some 
 pep into the game. I am sure a golf enthusiast 
 like yourself will agree with me. Please save me 
 a fox trot at the dance to-night, Mrs. Sowerby." 
 
 As the broker moved away Sowerby thundered 
 at his wife. "What we need is less of his cool 
 impudence around here," he said. "What busi- 
 ness is it of his how enthusiastic I am about 
 his infernal golf, and what business have you 
 to interest yourself in that Carter woman's 
 debts!" 
 
 "Just because," Maud Sowerby responded. 
 
 "Gad, it's the sort of thing a man wouldn't have 
 mentioned ! Commend me to women for making a 
 country club a hotbed of knocking and backbiting 
 and general cattishness ! " Her husband stamped 
 his gouty foot and then swore vigorously, but her 
 equanimity was not disturbed.
 
 ME. GRANT INVITES CRITICISM 5 
 
 "Go on, dear! You've called me the name of 
 about every other animal in the menagerie, so I 
 may as well be a cat, too, ' ' she observed. 
 
 His fat face flamed in mounting, apoplectic 
 rage. "Cats aren't in menageries! They're in 
 back alleys like the one you came from!" he ex- 
 claimed. ' ' Stop that infernal tapping on the rail 
 with your fingers. You're no longer at the type- 
 writer where I found you when I was fool enough 
 to marry you!" 
 
 Maud Sowerby's breath drew in with a little 
 venomous hiss, but the nervous tapping of her 
 fingers ceased obediently. She was as much 
 ashamed of those stubby, thickened fingers as of 
 the plebeian origin with which the irascible old 
 man always taunted her when his gout got the 
 better of him. The next moment she rose lightly 
 from the low wicker chair. 
 
 "I think I'll join the Frasers." In spite of 
 herself a little sharp note had crept into her 
 tones. "This constant washing of dirty linen 
 in public, my dear Rutherford, really ought to be 
 confined to back yards where alley cats con- 
 gregate ! ' ' 
 
 As she left him the old man chuckled in vicious 
 glee. He was still chuckling when a tall, slender,
 
 6 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 distinguished-looking, gray-haired man of fifty, 
 after a word or two with the club steward in the 
 doorway, approached him. 
 
 "Hello, Rutherford! Have you met the new 
 secretary of the club 1 ?" His voice, though confi- 
 dentially modulated, was suave and resonant with 
 the notes of a trained orator, and the smile, with 
 which he met the eyes of the bank president, was 
 the diplomatic one which had overcome the preju- 
 dices of more than one difficult jury in a cele- 
 brated case. 
 
 Rutherford Sowerby grunted. " 'Lo, Sam! 
 What's all this about your infernal secretary? 
 Haven't I always maintained that this club was 
 too small to need a salaried one? Aren't you the 
 official, duly elected officer in that capacity? I 
 never did see why the steward couldn't keep the 
 tuppenny monthly accounts and bring them to you 
 to be ratified without any intermediary." 
 
 "Yet you were one of the directors at the last 
 meeting who instructed the chairman of the house 
 committee to ask me to find a man for you." 
 Samuel Estridge's tone seemed not to have 
 changed, but it held a quality which made the 
 older man eye him more keenly. "I think you'd 
 better come along and have a look at him. ' ' 
 
 Without another word Sowerby hauled himself
 
 MR. GRANT INVITES CRITICISM 7 
 
 out of his chair, and the two strolled into the club- 
 house. They proceeded at once to the secretary's 
 office on the other side of the staircase from that 
 of the steward. 
 
 Here they found a stocky man of indeterminate 
 middle age, with a shock of sandy hair as heavy 
 as a wig and thick-rimmed glasses beneath his 
 eye-shade, poring nearsightedly over a ledger 
 behind the desk. In front of it stood a stout, ma- 
 jestic, elderly woman with a high, bony nose and 
 piercing dark eyes that glared across the counter 
 through a short-handled, diamond-studded lor- 
 gnette. 
 
 "I am positive that there is some mistake!" 
 she was saying in frigid, dominant tones. Then, 
 as she caught sight of the newcomers, she turned 
 to the lawyer. "Mr. Estridge, I really think that 
 Mr. Martin, no matter how ill he was before he 
 went West, ought to have gone more thoroughly 
 over the books with your new Mr. Grant here. I 
 am certain that my personal account is incorrect, 
 and, although I do not wish to go so far as to lay 
 it before the board " 
 
 "My clear Mrs. de Forest, this is Mr. Grant's 
 first day in active charge, you know." The law- 
 yer's voice was as winning as his smile. "I prom- 
 ise you that I will give him my personal assistance
 
 8 THE TEIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 and look into this matter at the earliest possible 
 opportunity. ' ' 
 
 Cutting short the lady's effusive declaration 
 that she would not dream of troubling him and 
 had no doubt that the trifling affair would adjust 
 itself, he led her adroitly into a discussion of the 
 afternoon's bridge game. Presently the dapper, 
 blond, young Mr. Dorrance appeared in the door- 
 way and, with the conciliatory little cough he 
 usually reserved solely for addressing his own 
 wife, announced: "Mrs. de Forest, I have been 
 looking everywhere for you! Josephine and the 
 Frasers are waiting tea, and they wouldn't 
 dream " 
 
 The social arbiter of Broadlawns smiled gra- 
 ciously. "Of course ! I'll join them at once. How 
 stupid of me ! ' ' With an inclination of her elabo- 
 rately coiffured gray head to the others she de- 
 parted in his company much after the manner of 
 a huge liner with a fussy little tug. Sowerby 
 growled in an aside to the lawyer: "Wish she 
 would lay something before the board, as she's 
 always threatening to do, while I'm present at 
 
 the meeting! What I'd do to it But your 
 
 man here does seem to be er going a bit 
 farther than Martin. I hear he disputed Mrs. 
 Carter's credit."
 
 MR. GRANT INVITES CRITICISM 9 
 
 The shock of sandy hair had not raised itself 
 an inch from above the ledger, and Estridge 
 stepped qniokly forward as though he, too, had 
 not heard his companion's remark. 
 
 "Getting on to the work all right, Grant? Mr. 
 Sowerby, this is Mr. James Grant, who will look 
 after the books for us in place of Mr. Martin. 
 Grant, this is Mr. Rutherford Sowerby, president 
 of the Tradesmen's Bank in New York and one 
 of the directors of the club." 
 
 The new secretary of the club acknowledged the 
 introduction with just the right shade of deference 
 and then replied to the lawyer's question: "Yes, 
 sir, I think I shall get on to the work in time quite 
 satisfactorily. Murdock has been assisting me 
 to-day in his spare time." 
 
 " ' Murdock ?' Yes, I'm sure you'll find the 
 steward very helpful, and there is no reason why 
 you shouldn't delegate a lot of the minor accounts 
 to him, Mr. Grant." Samuel Estridge turned 
 away. "You needn't stay cooped up in here all 
 the time, you know. Come on, Rutherford, I've 
 got something better than tea in my locker!" 
 
 Young Mrs. Sowerby appeared in the door of 
 the office. "Rutherford, the car's waiting, and 
 you know you ordered it for five o'clock." She 
 spoke hurriedly, and her eyes shifted as though,
 
 10 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 strangely enough, she were trying to avoid meet- 
 ing the gaze of the man behind the desk. "How 
 do yon do, Mr. Estridge? May we drop you at 
 your place on our way home?" 
 
 "Thanks, I'm staying on here a little longer. 
 Have you met our new house secretary, Mr. 
 Grant?" Estridge was watching her curiously, 
 and he noted the quick, uncontrollable flush which 
 mounted in her face. 
 
 "Yes, I I've met Mr. Grant." Her eyelids 
 fluttered and fell, and then she turned quickly to 
 her husband. "Rutherford, Whitcomb says that 
 the batteries " 
 
 With feline cleverness she had scratched upon 
 a spot already sore. ' ' Whitcomb 's a fool ! ' ' Sow- 
 erby charged for the door. "See you to-night, 
 Sam. This is your fool nonsense, Maud, in want- 
 ing a bullheaded British driver because he looked 
 swagger. Swagger, my eye! Now he wants 
 the earth! Don't I know the batteries of that 
 car?" 
 
 His voice died away upon the veranda, and 
 Estridge turned with a little shrug to the new 
 secretary, but that worthy had bent once more 
 over his ledger, and the lawyer strolled out. 
 
 In the rotundalike entrance hall, where, as upon 
 the veranda, cozy little groups were having tea,
 
 MR. GRANT INVITES CRITICISM 11 
 
 he came upon Ogden Bowles deep in conversation 
 with a tall, willowy woman, whose rich red hair 
 was drawn down over her ears like a Madonna by 
 Raphael. He would have passed them with a 
 smiling nod, but the broker stopped him. 
 
 "I say, Estridge, do sit down for a minute and 
 amuse Mrs. Carter. iVe got to see the secretary, 
 and I am afraid she will run away from me! I 
 have been trying to persuade her to dine with the 
 Dorrances and me at the Mayblossom Inn I'd 
 ask you, too, but I know that you are booked 
 already, unfortunately and I'm not having any 
 luck." 
 
 11 Don't try to amuse me, Mr. Estridge all the 
 men do that but take this chair by me and satisfy 
 my feminine and trivial curiosity." Mrs. Carter 
 had large eyes of a peculiar golden brown, and 
 she knew how to use them. There was nothing 
 for the attorney to do but to acquiesce, and he 
 dropped into the chair indicated, as Bowles bowed 
 and turned toward the little office. 
 
 "Anything that interested you sufficiently to 
 arouse your curiosity could not be trivial, Mrs. 
 Carter, ' ' he murmured mechanically. 
 
 "That isn't worthy of you, Mr. Estridge," she 
 replied. "One might expect that sort of thing 
 from Phil Dorrance, perhaps, if his wife were
 
 12 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 not within hearing, but not from our most noted 
 criminal lawyer." 
 
 " 'Criminal lawyer ' sounds ambiguous, doesn't 
 it?" he said. "But, seriously, you have aroused 
 my curiosity by declaring that you have any. I 
 have always looked upon you as one woman devoid 
 of it." 
 
 "It isn't very active." As she spoke Mrs. Car- 
 ter's glinting, topaz eyes shifted from him to the 
 tiny office at the right of the broad staircase. 
 "Tell me something about the club's new secre- 
 tary Mr. Grant, isn't it? He seems to be rather 
 an unusual individual, not quite like a mere 
 clerk. ' ' 
 
 "He isn't." The attorney spoke easily enough, 
 and his tone had sunk to an even more conversa- 
 tional level, but he eyed Mrs. Carter's profile, 
 clean cut against her banded, straight red hair, 
 with a shrewd glimmer of speculation. * ' I believe 
 he held a more superior position of some sort, but 
 he has accepted this until Martin's return because 
 he is so keen on golf. He won't be tied down to 
 the office since Murdock can do a lot of his work. 
 You've met him? I hope he hasn't been officious 
 about the accounts or anything? These men who 
 feel superior to their positions so often are dic- 
 tatorial."
 
 MR. GRANT INVITES CRITICISM 13 
 
 Mrs. Carter laughed lightly, and one of her 
 long, slim, very white hands gripped the chair 
 arm until the wicker creaked. "Oh, dear, no! I 
 never bother about my club accounts except to 
 write a check for the total at the first of the month 
 without even glancing over my slips. I'm such a 
 bad business woman ! But, when I went in to ask 
 this Mr. Grant some trivial question or other, a 
 little while ago, he seemed to mistake me for some 
 one else and was so politely incredulous about it 
 that it rather amused me. I'm sure I never laid 
 eyes on the man before, unless he has waited upon 
 me in some shop or bank. What did you say his 
 position was previous to his coming here, Mr. 
 Estridge?" 
 
 Her tone was a bored, idle one, but, as she 
 moved again restlessly in her chair, the attorney 
 caught another glimpse of her eyes, and their 
 eager, almost defensive, light did not accord with 
 her manner. Was it fear that he read in them 
 the same fear which had covered the less well- 
 poised little Mrs. Sowerby with confusion? 
 
 "I didn't say, but I'm quite sure he has never 
 waited upon any one in his life," Estridge replied 
 deliberately. "I understand he was the confiden- 
 tial secretary for some very noted personage." 
 
 "For whom?" A crisp voice behind him made
 
 14 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 him glance over his shoulder to see that Ogden 
 Bowles had returned. In the usually debonair 
 broker, too, there appeared a slight, but signifi- 
 cant, change. The fine lines about his eyes seemed 
 to have deepened, and his lips were set. "Who 
 is this fellow, Grant, Estridge! You'll forgive me 
 for overhearing a part of your conversation, but 
 it was unavoidable. The man seems rather a dub 
 to me." 
 
 "Oh, give him time, Bowles; this is his first 
 day, you know." The attorney laughed good- 
 naturedly, but in his mind a curious question was 
 forming. "I don't know for whom the chap was 
 confidential secretary, but if you're interested I 
 don't doubt that I can find out from the house com- 
 mittee." 
 
 "I'm not sufficiently interested for that, 
 thanks. ' ' Bowles laughed also, but rather shortly. 
 "Mrs. Carter, is it to be the Mayblossom Inn?" 
 
 She rose with a slow shake of her head. "So 
 sorry, but I find that I have a slight headache, 
 and, if I am to return for the dance to-night, I 
 must rest. I'll let you run me home to my little 
 cottage, though, if you like." 
 
 After a final word or two with Estridge the 
 couple moved off down the veranda steps, and the
 
 MR. GRANT INVITES CRITICISM 15 
 
 attorney sank back in the chair from which he 
 had just arisen, but he turned it so as to face 
 the door of the little office in which the new secre- 
 tary had been installed. What was the matter 
 with Mrs. Sowerby and Mrs. Carter and Bowles? 
 Could it be his own imagination, could his nerves 
 have gone back on him after that last big, grueling 
 contest of wits in court, or was there really some- 
 thing strange and sinister underlying the tranquil 
 surface atmosphere of this little club of suburban 
 acquaintances greater even than he had conceived 
 in his knowledge of their petty affairs? 
 
 While he sat there lost in reverie Murdock, the 
 steward, approached. He was a man of forty-odd 
 with a slight touch of gray at his temples and the 
 expressionless face of the perfectly trained serv- 
 ant. Absently Estridge ordered a lemonade. 
 When the man brought it he remarked: "Mur- 
 dock, Mr. Grant says that you have been helping 
 him to-day with the accounts which Mr. Martin 
 left unfinished." 
 
 Murdock coughed. "Well, yes, sir," he mur- 
 mured. ' * Having a little spare time and knowing 
 the books from going over them with Mr. Martin, 
 I thought it was what the house committee would 
 wish, sir."
 
 16 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 His tone was apologetic, as though feeling that 
 he had overstepped the bounds of his appointed 
 duty, but Samuel Estridge nodded approvingly. 
 "Quite right, Murdock. Take as much off Mr. 
 Grant 's hands as you can, especially at first. You 
 know the books, and of course they've been kept 
 absolutely straight." 
 
 "Of course, sir." Murdock placed the empty 
 glass upon his tray and started to move off. The 
 attorney stopped him once more and spoke in a 
 lowered tone: 
 
 "Murdock, you've been a trusted employee of 
 Broadlawns since it was built, and, if anything 
 goes on at any time that strikes you as being 
 er not quite regular, I shall appreciate your com- 
 ing to me, as secretary, instead of first reporting 
 the matter to the house committee, you under- 
 stand?" 
 
 Murdock 's face remained expressionless, but he 
 responded with a shade more emphasis: "Per- 
 fectly, sir. I have heard of nothing irregular, and 
 I am quite sure that there will be no difficulty 
 about the books. Thank you, sir. ' ' 
 
 This time he departed without further com- 
 ment or instruction, but when he had disappeared 
 Estridge glanced once more through the doorway
 
 MB. GRANT INVITES CRITICISM 17 
 
 into the office of the new secretary. The shock of 
 sandy hair had been raised for an instant from 
 above the ledger, and from behind a pair of heavy- 
 rimmed glasses two shadowed, unexpectedly keen 
 eyes seemed staring into his own.
 
 CHAPTER n 
 
 THE HOBNET'S NEST 
 
 OEPTEMBER had vanished in a burst of 
 ^ springlike warmth. October ushered in a 
 period of premature, nipping frost which drove 
 all but the hardiest of the golf players from the 
 course and speedily turned the leaves of the trees 
 about the clubhouse to the evanescent scarlet and 
 gold of autumn. 
 
 The veranda was now practically deserted. 
 Those of the all-year colony, who still forgathered 
 at Broadlawns for tea and afternoon bridge, pre- 
 ferred the spacious entrance hall and dining room 
 the latter in reality a converted sun parlor. It 
 was here that two feminine members of the club 
 were lunching together one glowing day late in 
 the month. 
 
 "This salad is atrocious!" The larger, more 
 elderly of the two ladies shook her elaborately 
 dressed gray head indignantly. "I am really 
 tempted to lay the matter of the cuisine before 
 
 18
 
 THE HORNET'S NEST 19 
 
 the board! As it is I would have invited you to 
 lunch at the house, Mrs. Dorrance, but I fancied 
 we might pick up two people here for bridge later. 
 Besides I am breaking in a new cook. You know 
 what that means!" 
 
 "Indeed I do, my dear Mrs. de Forest!" the 
 other replied. She was dark and beetle-browed, 
 and an undeniable shadow appeared upon her firm 
 upper lip. A tendency to embonpoint she curbed 
 with obviously Spartan courage. Her one known 
 act of self-indulgence had been her marriage to 
 good-looking, penniless, weak Phil Dorrance, twelve 
 years her junior. She had made him treasurer of 
 the great Farr Rubber Company, and, although 
 men looked with contempt upon him for the trans- 
 action, it was mingled with pity. For the "Em- 
 press Josephine," as all Broadlawns called her 
 behind her arrogant back, was no easy task-mis- 
 tress. "Our own cook left this morning, but 
 Philip is bringing another out from town with 
 him this afternoon." 
 
 "I thought he was playing off his match with 
 Ogden Bowles to-day," Mrs. de Forest observed. 
 
 "No. I sent him in to Harlier's with my emer- 
 alds; it occurred to me that I had better have 
 the settings looked over before the Hallowe'en 
 dance to-morrow night." Josephine Dorrance
 
 20 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 eyed her peach Melba and then pushed it reso- 
 lutely from her. "You will wear your diamond 
 necklace, of course?" 
 
 Mrs. de Forest shook her head, and her lips 
 tightened. "No. With so many nouveau riche 
 members coming into the club I decided that such 
 a display, at a mere informal Hallowe'en affair, 
 would be not only vulgar, but a bad example for 
 Alice. Girls especially those with no money of 
 their own do get such silly notions and expecta- 
 tions ! You 've no idea what it is to have a penni- 
 less, spoiled orphan niece on your hands!" Mrs. 
 de Forest sighed. "I had hoped that Alice would 
 be quite a help to me a sort of social secretary, 
 you know but my poor sister-in-law indulged her 
 so, and on positively nothing, my dear, that Alice 
 takes everything quite for granted ! ' ' 
 
 The Farr rubber fortune was newer by two gen- 
 erations than the de Forest wealth, and Mrs. Dor- 
 ranee quite enjoyed the sensation her emeralds 
 always created at the club, especially among the 
 lately admitted members. Therefore she raised 
 her heavy brows slightly as she replied : "I don 't 
 believe you will be troubled with Miss Dare very 
 long. That nice Landon boy who is visiting the 
 Frasers " 
 
 "A mere bank employee of Rutherford Sower-
 
 THE HORNET'S NEST 21 
 
 by's!" Mrs. de Forest exclaimed. "I have for- 
 bidden Alice to have anything more to do with him 
 than sheer courtesy demands. After all she is 
 my niece, and I do not approve of even a wealthy, 
 mature woman marrying an indigent upstart, 
 much less an impressionable girl like Alice with 
 her future before her. She will keep Gerald Lan- 
 don in his place." With this Parthian shot Mrs. 
 de Forest led .the way from the dining room. 
 
 At that very moment Alice Dare was having 
 considerably more to do with the Landon boy than 
 sheer courtesy demanded. As a matter of fact, 
 she was seriously interfering with his driving of 
 the Erasers' little runabout by cuddling her head 
 into his shoulder, and Gerald Landon did not seem 
 to object in the least. They were on a secluded road 
 several miles from Broadlawns, making rapidly 
 for a little, old-fashioned village and a certain 
 little old-fashioned cottage on its main street. 
 
 All at once Alice straightened in her seat and 
 asked for the twentieth time : * * Oh, do you think 
 it will be all right, Gerald, darling?" 
 
 11 Bight as rain!" he responded promptly, avoid- 
 ing a rut in the road by the narrowest margin. 
 
 "I don't know!" Alice replied. "There's just 
 one person in that club whom I '11 be afraid to face, 
 and that person is the secretary. There's some-
 
 22 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 thing odd about him, Gerald; I don't know 
 whether it's that shaggy mop of hair that he peers 
 out from beneath when he asks one of those funny, 
 unexpected questions, or the way he stares after 
 one. He's not disrespectful at all, nor even per- 
 sonal, and I can't say that I dislike him ; he simply 
 makes me uncomfortable. I wish I could see his 
 eyes without that shade or those heavy-rimmed 
 glasses." 
 
 "Oh, he's just an old codger who has been in 
 a rut always, dear, and country-club life is all new 
 to him," Gerald replied. " Jack Fraser seems to 
 think he is clever." 
 
 "So does Mr. Estridge and and Mr. Sower- 
 by," Alice said in a lowered tone. "I've seen 
 them talking to him a lot. ' ' 
 
 "Well, I'm safe enough even if Sowerby has 
 taken a queer fancy to him," Gerald observed. 
 "I'm not a member, you know, just a guest of 
 the Frasers, and Grant only bothers with his club 
 accounts and ledgers. Not a single one of the 
 crowd will see us until we get back." 
 
 But the young assistant cashier of Sowerby 's 
 bank was wrong. The solitary occupant of a big, 
 high-powered car, coming down one of the side 
 roads, had noted and recognized the couple in the
 
 THE HORNET'S NEST 23 
 
 little runabout, and he gazed after them specula- 
 tively as he swung his own machine back the way 
 they had come, toward Broadlawns. When he 
 neared the club, however, he made a detour down 
 a winding byway that was known as the "Glen 
 Road," and here all thought of the other two was 
 driven from his mind when he came upon a second 
 couple. 
 
 These two people were as much engrossed with 
 each other as the first pair had been, and they 
 were equally oblivious to his proximity as he 
 slowed down the car to make as little noise as pos- 
 sible in passing them. They were seated upon a 
 rustic bench half hidden behind a rock; the man 
 wore a dapper town suit and the woman was 
 dressed in a blue sweater and sport skirt. Her 
 ash-blond hair was conspicuously fluffy. 
 
 "Fools!" said the occupant of the big car as 
 he turned out upon the highway again and headed 
 for the club. "Fools!" 
 
 An hour later Mrs. Jack Fraser emerged from 
 the caddie house and started alone for the club 
 veranda. She was a pretty little woman in the 
 late twenties with a sensible, humorous mouth, 
 healthily tanned skin, and wind-blown brown hair, 
 and she walked with a free, athletic stride devoid
 
 24 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 of swagger. As she neared the veranda steps she 
 caught side of Ogden Bowles and hailed him 
 cordially. 
 
 "Jack and I have just been around," she said. 
 "It was such a gorgeous afternoon that I couldn't 
 resist it, but I really meant to call on Mrs. Carter. 
 I heard that she had been ill for the last few days, 
 and, as a matter of fact, we've hardly seen her 
 here at the club for the past month." 
 
 Ogden Bowles hesitated, eyeing her frank, smil- 
 ing countenance for a moment as though uncertain 
 what to reply. Then he, too, smiled. 
 
 "I am sure that Mrs. Carter's indisposition is 
 not serious. She has promised to come to the 
 Hallowe'en dance with me to-morrow night," he 
 replied. "Won't you come in and let me give 
 you a cup of tea, Mrs. Fraser?" 
 
 "You come in and join us," she suggested in- 
 stead. "All the rest of the crowd are having tea 
 in the foyer." 
 
 The atmosphere seemed more chilly indoors 
 than out in the sunshine, and a tiny fire had been 
 started upon the hearth. Rutherford Sowerby 
 had settled himself squarely before it, and Jack 
 Fraser and Samuel Estridge stood with their el- 
 bows on the mantel, deep in conversation with 
 him. The attorney appeared to have been remon-
 
 THE HORNET'S NEST 25 
 
 strating, but Sowerby was continuing to speak in 
 a loud voice: "I don't care! I tell you some- 
 thing's got to be done. Here it's been more than 
 a month since the affair happened, and what has 
 been accomplished? Exactly nothing!" 
 
 "Look here, Rutherford, unless you want the 
 unholy scandal that we Ve all been trying to avoid, 
 you'll talk lower!" Estridge spoke in keen, in- 
 cisive tones with a quick glance toward the bay 
 window where Mrs. Fraser and Ogden Bowles had 
 joined Mrs. de Forest and Mrs. Dorrance, and it 
 was evident that a bridge game was being 
 arranged. "We've taken the only possible step 
 under the circumstances " 
 
 "Well, that step will have to lead somewhere 
 during the next twenty-four hours, Sam, or that 
 unholy scandal you are talking about is likely to 
 spread through all creation!" The bank presi- 
 dent's retort was made in a modulated voice. "It 
 happened at the Harvest Dance, if you remember, 
 and to-morrow night is Hallowe'en. If the same 
 thing or something like it occurs then we'll all be 
 in a deuce of a hole ! ' ' 
 
 ' ' But there are only a few of us who know, and 
 we can all watch," Jack Fraser suggested. He 
 was as tanned and lithe and clear-eyed as his wife, 
 but half a head taller, with a look of strength and
 
 26 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 purposefulness that told of a few added years 
 and wider experiences. Just now his jaw was set, 
 and his gray eyes were stern. "Don't think I'm 
 not taking this seriously; the scandal of such a 
 thing may mean mere notoriety for some of us, but 
 actual ruin for the rest, particularly if the matter 
 is never cleared up." 
 
 " Cleared up!" exclaimed Sowerby. "It'll be 
 cleared up, by gad, if every member of this 
 club Oh, here's my wife!" 
 
 But Maud Sowerby, her fluffy, ash-blond hair 
 slightly roughened by the wind, straightened her 
 blue sweater and merely nodded to the group near 
 the fireplace. Joining the others by the bridge 
 table, she rang for the steward. 
 
 "I don't believe Murdock's in on the game, 
 but we can't be too careful until we are sure," 
 Jack Fraser spoke in a voice which was scarcely 
 above a whisper as the steward passed with a 
 tea tray. "That's the worst of it! There are 
 perhaps half a dozen of us, including some of the 
 absent house committee, who know what hap- 
 pened, but there's just one member or employee of 
 this club who knows how it happened, and we 
 haven't the slightest clew to his or her identity." 
 
 "I should say we had too many!" Estridge said 
 dryly. "I could have named at least three mem-
 
 THE HORNET'S NEST 27 
 
 bers of this club, on the very day that our investi- 
 gation assumed a practical form, who to the 
 trained eye gave every indication of guilt. Now 
 it is manifestly impossible that they could have 
 been in any conspiracy, and it is equally improb- 
 able that any of them had a hand in the affair. 
 We'll have a merry dance to-morrow night if we 
 who know continue to go about glaring at each 
 other." 
 
 "It'll be a merrier one if the Harvest affair 
 is repeated!" remarked Sowerby. "Oh, I admit, 
 Sam, that your plan was the only one we could 
 follow under the circumstances, but we might have 
 done ten times more with it as I contended from 
 the beginning." 
 
 ' * And have everybody in the club, members and 
 employees alike, aware of what we were doing?" 
 demanded Estridge. He lowered his arm from 
 the mantel, straightened himself and added irrele- 
 vantly : "It is near the first of the month, and Grant 
 must have begun to get his accounts ready to date 
 so that he can add without trouble the little that 
 will come in later. Think I '11 go and have a look 
 at them. Hello, Dorrance!" 
 
 But Philip Dorrance seemed not to have heard 
 the greeting. He had just entered, clad not in his 
 usual hectic sport regalia, but in one of the dapper
 
 28 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 business suits he was in the habit of wearing to 
 the offices of the Fair Rubber Company. His in- 
 significantly good-looking face was curiously white 
 and set as he made his way straight to the bridge 
 table. 
 
 Mrs. Dorrance was dummy at the moment, and 
 she glanced up expectantly from her outspread 
 cards. "I thought you might have come out on 
 an earlier train, Philip." Her dominant, almost 
 masculine, tones carried to the farthermost cor- 
 ners of the foyer. "What did Harlier say about 
 my emeralds?" 
 
 Dorrance moistened his lips nervously and 
 shook his head. "You won't be able to wear them 
 to-morrow night, my dear Josephine. ' ' The reply 
 came with his habitual, conciliatory, little cough. 
 "You were right about the settings; they say at 
 Harlier 's that the whole collection must be thor- 
 oughly gone over." 
 
 With a little exclamation of annoyance Mrs. Dor- 
 rance turned her attention once more to the game, 
 and Jack Fraser remarked in an aside to Estridge, 
 who had lingered: "So the Empress Josephine 
 will have to appear without her crowning glory 
 to-morrow night ! Perhaps it is just as well. Do 
 you know, I think, if it were not for disappoint- 
 ing my wife, and the fact that my brother
 
 THE HORNET'S NEST 29 
 
 is coming out, I'd stay in town myself and estab- 
 lish a perfectly good, indestructible alibi for the 
 time of this Hallowe'en Dance." 
 
 "No, you don't!" declared Sowerby firmly. 
 "We'll all stand or fall together, no matter what 
 happens; that's agreed. By the way, do you 
 mean that brother of yours from Texas?" 
 
 Fraser nodded, and Sowerby turned to Estridge. 
 
 "Ever meet him?" he asked. "He's an inter- 
 esting chap; we've had some dealings with him 
 at the bank. He owns large oil interests down 
 near the border. Older than you, isn't he, Jack? 
 Does he still ride that hobby of his?" 
 
 Jack Fraser laughed. "Yes. Ralph is four 
 years my senior, but he is still a perfect kid about 
 collecting queer old weapons of all kinds, par- 
 ticularly firearms." He, too, turned to the law- 
 yer. " I '11 be glad to have you meet him, for you 
 may be interested in hearing him rave about his 
 collection. He really has some of the most curi- 
 ous man-killing instruments, and not necessarily 
 ancient either, that were ever devised by murder- 
 ous-minded cranks. Heaven knows where he picks 
 them up around the globe ! But we were not dis- 
 cussing murder, thank goodness! At the worst 
 we may be in for a scandal, though possibly a 
 ruinous one."
 
 30 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 Samuel Estridge had nodded politely at the sug- 
 gestion that he meet the younger man's brother, 
 but there was a sudden tenseness of his easy pose, 
 and the other two, following his gaze, saw that it 
 was fixed upon the door of the house secretary's 
 little box of an office. Philip Dorrance had strolled 
 over to it with an elaborate air of unconcern and 
 disappeared within, but, while the three men by 
 the fireplace watched, he came hurriedly out again, 
 and, fairly stumbling in his haste, made his way 
 to the veranda door and went out. 
 
 "By Jove, did you see that!" Fraser exclaimed 
 beneath his breath. ' ' I wonder if the little bounder 
 has just discovered that he has overdrawn his 
 allowance for this month and is afraid to tell his 
 wife!" 
 
 "Murdock!" Sowerby called to the steward, 
 who had paused a short distance away to remove 
 some empty glasses. "Bring us three of those 
 devitalized drinks of yours. Is Mr. Grant in his 
 office?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. No, sir, Mr. Grant went out just a 
 few minutes ago; I don't know where, sir." 
 
 He glided noiselessly away upon his errand, and 
 Sowerby turned to the others. "You see? Dor- 
 rance was trying to find Grant, not leaving him
 
 THE HORNET'S NEST 31 
 
 after an unsatisfactory interview. We're getting 
 as gossipy as a pack of old women!" 
 
 The glances of Fraser and Estridge met, but 
 they said nothing until the steward returned with 
 three tall glasses upon a tray. 
 
 "Murdock" it was the attorney who spoke 
 "do you recall a brief conversation I had with you 
 on the first day that Mr. Grant took over his 
 duties?" 
 
 The steward placed the glasses upon a table 
 before he replied: "Yes, sir. I have given Mr. 
 Grant all the assistance in my power, sir." 
 
 "As I not only reminded you, but explained to 
 him, you have been with the club a long time and 
 are thoroughly familiar with the books," Estridge 
 pursued. "I have no doubt that Mr. Grant was 
 glad to turn over a great many of the minor 
 accounts to you?" 
 
 Although his last words were a statement the 
 inflection made them so unmistakably a question 
 that Murdock realized the need of a reply, yet 
 once more he hesitated respectfully. 
 
 "Well, sir, I really didn't know all about the 
 books, even in Mr. Martin's time, only the club 
 accounts that have always been in my hands, and, 
 since I am just the steward, I suppose Mr. Grant,
 
 32 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 being new, felt personally responsible. He he 
 seems to be very careful and conscientious I 
 should say, sir." 
 
 There was silence, save for an occasional mur- 
 mur from the bridge players, as Murdock disap- 
 peared again within the pantry, but a moment 
 later there came the rattle and clatter of a dropped 
 tray. 
 
 "Confound that steward!" Sowerby slammed 
 down his glass. "Did you hear that? No wonder 
 Grant doesn't want him fussing about the books! 
 He's getting more careless every day. I've always 
 said it was a mistake to keep any club attendant 
 too long!" 
 
 Samuel Estridge smiled. "I told you a little 
 while ago that, on the very day our investigation 
 assumed a practical form, I could have named 
 three members of the club who gave every indica- 
 tion of separate guilt of some sort, or at least a 
 guilty conscience. We were only looking for one, 
 but I could now name at least five persons, any 
 one of whom if the other four were eliminated 
 might be seriously suspected. Gentlemen, do you 
 know what our well-meant efforts have stirred up 
 in this peaceful little community? A hornet's 
 nest, and Heaven knows what will happen before 
 we can stamp it out!"
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 UNDER THE DEAGON LANTERN 
 
 DROADLAWNS was glowing with strings 
 U of varicolored lanterns. They were hung 
 from tree to tree and bobbing grotesquely in the 
 night wind which had turned soft and balmy with 
 the fickle mellowness of coming Indian summer. 
 Nearer the veranda the rows of motors, parked 
 in a semicircle on the driveway, sent the glare of 
 their lamps out into the darkness, and the club- 
 house itself was ablaze with lights and throbbing 
 with the syncopated melodies from the alternating 
 string orchestra and jazz band. 
 
 The far corners of the veranda itself had been 
 left discreetly in shadow, with only a bobbing lan- 
 tern here and there, and, in the brief intervals 
 between dances, fluffily gowned and somberly 
 coated figures appeared for a time and then van- 
 ished again within doors, leaving only an occa- 
 sional couple here and there, too absorbed to be 
 aware that the music had started once more. 
 
 33
 
 34 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 Toward the hour before midnight, however, the 
 treacherous softness of the air sharpened, the 
 wind veered to the north and rose, and the sting of 
 frost drove even the hardiest and most persever- 
 ing of the sentimental couples to the shelter of the 
 conservatory. There, behind a bank of huge 
 chrysanthemums, a dapper young man in fault- 
 less evening attire strove vainly to persuade a 
 pretty, colorless, doll-like little woman to seat 
 herself on a rustic bench beside him. 
 
 "It's no use, Dorry!" There was a note of 
 pettishness in her voice. "I came because you 
 said that you had something to tell me that I 
 ought to hear, but please hurry! I can't stay a 
 minute ! ' ' 
 
 "You've got to hear me out, Maud." Phil Dor- 
 ranee spoke with strange doggedness, and there 
 was an unusual light in his slightly prominent 
 blue eyes. "You've played with me all summer, 
 you've led me to believe that you were ready to 
 chuck everything, and " 
 
 * * I thought we had all this out yesterday on the 
 Glen Road!" Maud Sowerby's tones were un- 
 mistakably cold now and contemptuous. "I played 
 about with you simply because we were both 
 bored, and you know it. I'm not going to stay 
 here any longer and take the risk of being caught
 
 UNDER THE DRAGON LANTERN 35 
 
 in a tete-a-tete with you, Dorry. I thought that 
 what you had to say to me would be something 
 new something, perhaps, connected with my own 
 protection and not your feelings." 
 
 He winced at the palpable sneer, and the lips 
 beneath his small mustache curled viciously. 
 " Perhaps what I had to say concerned both, but, 
 since you have become suddenly so discreet, I 
 will not mention it. Shall I take you back now 
 to your husband?" 
 
 She looked at him, and the sneer gave place to 
 a whimper. "What is it, Dorry? Do you mean 
 that we are are both going to get into trouble? 
 We've only carried on a mild sort of flirtation, 
 as you know, but my husband is a brute, and your 
 wife is a cat, and between them, if they wanted to, 
 they might take from us all that we have gained 
 by the years during which we have put up with 
 them!" Her voice rose to a subdued wail. "I 
 couldn't give up my lovely house and my cars 
 and all my luxuries and go back to the typewriter 
 again. I couldn't!" 
 
 "Suppose I hadn't taken it for a mild sort of 
 flirtation?" Phil asked grimly. "Suppose I'd 
 burned both our bridges ? What then ? ' ' 
 
 Her anger flamed up anew. "You couldn't burn 
 mine!" she declared through set teeth. "You
 
 36 THE TBIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 haven't even a scrap of a silly, sentimental note 
 from me, and if you've gotten into any stupid 
 mess no one can say I had anything to do with it. 
 You '11 have to get out of it the best way you can. ' ' 
 
 "Is that your last word, Maud?" he demanded 
 slowly, with a sort of deadly earnestness which 
 came oddly from his weak, almost effeminate lips. 
 "I warn you I am more desperate than you know. 
 You meant that?" 
 
 "I did. I've been foolish, perhaps, but not 
 wicked, and I intend to protect myself no matter 
 what happens. Do you hear no matter what 
 happens ! ' ' 
 
 Phil Dorrance drew himself erect and bowed 
 with a touch of real dignity. "Shall we return 
 now to the ballroom? Under the circumstances, it 
 would be useless for us to continue this conversa- 
 tion, and, as you say, a further tete-a-tete with 
 me may prove a risk for you." 
 
 She glanced at him for a moment in mute ques- 
 tioning, then shrugged and turned toward the 
 door. Neither of them had noticed a younger 
 couple who stole in almost guiltily and proceeded 
 to the farther end of the conservatory. Strangely 
 enough the girl's first words were suggestive of 
 those of Maud Sowerby, but with a very different 
 intonation.
 
 UNDER THE DRAGON LANTERN 37 
 
 "Oh, Gerald, we must hurry! We can't stay 
 a minute ! Auntie is holding court in her corner 
 as usual, but, if she discovers that I'm in here 
 with you after all her injunctions, there'll be a 
 dreadful scene when we get home. How how did 
 Mr. Sowerby treat you at the bank to-day?" 
 
 "The same as usual just as though I didn't 
 exist." Gerald Landon shrugged. "It is only 
 out here, you know, dearest, that he grants me 
 more than a passing nod. We're safe enough, 
 Alice, darling." 
 
 * ' Don 't ! " She shrank away from him. ' * Sup- 
 pose somebody heard you call me that and told 
 auntie, and she went to him! He doesn't like her, 
 but you know what influence she has out here. 
 If they both began investigating " 
 
 "There goes that beastly music, anc} I've got to 
 haul Mrs. Dorrance around the floor!" Gerald 
 said gloomily, then with a swift movement he 
 gathered the girl into his arms. 
 
 She yielded to his kiss, but the next instant she 
 freed herself and placed a flowering shrub be- 
 tween them. "Gerald! How could you! Some 
 one might have seen! There's something strange 
 going on. I know it! Something that we 
 don't understand, but it frightens me! Did you 
 see that notice on the bulletin board outside the
 
 38 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 billiard room, that any member or guest of the 
 club, desiring to leave before the final dance, 
 would kindly see Mr. Estridge first? I have heard 
 heaps of people discussing it. Do you suppose it 
 means a special meeting of some kind? That Mr. 
 Grant isn't in his office to-night!" 
 
 "I couldn't help it, Alice. No one saw, and I 
 don't know why you keep bothering about that 
 house secretary. The last I saw of him he was 
 standing right under the dragon lantern on the 
 veranda, right in front of that wide window which 
 faces across the foyer to the stairs and the two 
 little offices his and Murdock's on either side 
 of the balustrade. He was watching the dancing, 
 and I felt kind of sorry for him, poor chap, being 
 out of it all. And don't you worry your darling 
 little head about old Estridge and his bulletins; 
 there never was a house committee on a country 
 club yet that didn't try to show its importance 
 on every possible occasion. If it had been any- 
 thing serious Jack Fraser would have told me 
 about it, since he put me up here. But we must 
 hurry! Here comes Ralph Fraser for you now." 
 
 Jack Fraser 's brother, from Texas, of whom 
 he and Rutherford Sowerby had spoken on the 
 previous day, was a big, broad-shouldered man 
 of thirty-five. His bluff, hearty, outspoken man-
 
 UNDEE THE DEAGON LANTEEN 39 
 
 ner hinted at one who knew more of boom towns 
 than ultra-smart suburban colonies, and his keen 
 eyes took in the situation between the two at a 
 glance. 
 
 "Look here, Miss Dare, if I'm butting in we'll 
 just forget all about this dance, ' ' he began. * ' I 'm 
 rotten at it, anyhow can't lift my hulking feet 
 off the floor." 
 
 1 * Oh, no ! " It was Gerald who spoke, but Alice 
 had seized upon the newcomer almost feverishly. 
 She feared that he had divined their attachment 
 and might blurt out to others that an engagement 
 existed between them. Gerald added hurriedly: 
 "I have this dance with Mrs. Dorrance, and was 
 only waiting until you came for Miss Dare. See 
 you both later!" 
 
 He bowed, and then fairly bolted from the 
 conservatory. In addition to the ballroom the 
 great, round entrance hall had been given over 
 to the dancers, forcing the "old guard" to the 
 billiard room except for one corner, where Mrs. 
 de Forest sat majestically with a group of syco- 
 phants and social climbers about her. 
 
 Gerald noted with relief that she was still there 
 and holding forth to those who seemingly hung 
 upon her words; then he turned to survey the 
 scene for the partner for whom he had come so
 
 40 THE TBIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 tardily. Phil Dorrance came hurriedly up to him. 
 
 "I say, old man, have you seen anything of that 
 chap Grant? He's not in his office." 
 
 "He's out on the veranda there, I believe." 
 Gerald added with hasty mendacity: "I've been 
 looking everywhere for your wife; I have this 
 dance with her, but I can't find her." 
 
 "Can't you?" Phil responded nervously in an 
 absent tone, and the other noticed all at once how 
 haggard he seemed to have grown. "I haven't 
 looked her up myself since my last dance with her 
 an hour ago, but I suppose you'll find her around 
 here somewhere. Grant is on the veranda, you 
 say?" 
 
 Without waiting for a reply, he was off, while 
 Gerald gazed after him for a moment in amaze- 
 ment. What could have been the matter with Dor- 
 rance? There had been an air of suppressed ex- 
 citement and strained anxiety about him; such as 
 he had observed on men during a run on the bank. 
 This troubled mien was utterly foreign to Dor- 
 ranee's usual complacently self-satisfied attitude. 
 And what could he want with Grant ? The house 
 secretary's office always remained closed during 
 a dance or other festivity, the steward attending 
 to anything necessary from his own office.
 
 UNDER THE DRAGON LANTERN 41 
 
 Gerald glanced toward it across the hall on the 
 other side of the staircase and saw Murdock 
 seated behind his desk. The steward was watch- 
 ing the dancers from beneath respectfully low- 
 ered eyelids. Why hadn't Dorrance gone to Mur- 
 dock if he had wanted anything? 
 
 At that moment Mrs. Dorrance came down the 
 staircase and approached him. * ' So sorry to have 
 kept you waiting, Mr. Landon," she murmured, 
 forestalling the apology which Gerald himself had 
 been about to make. ' ' Such a stupid accident ! I 
 had to have my gown mended. Mr. Bowles is 
 usually a perfect dancer, but he must have an 
 attack of nerves or something to-night. We were 
 passing that open window there, where the dragon 
 lantern is swinging outside, when he stumbled 
 and his foot caught in my skirt. Of course I don't 
 like to say anything, but I think the use to which 
 the men put their lockers these days is a disgrace 
 to the club." 
 
 "Shall we dance?" Gerald asked diplomati- 
 cally. "Elsie Mrs. Fraser told me that Mr. 
 Bowles was bringing Mrs. Carter to the dance to- 
 night. Have you seen her?" 
 
 "Yes." Mrs. Dorrance moved heavily off in 
 step with him, carefully conserving her breath.
 
 "She must have been really ill. I thought it a 
 pose -didn't bother to call but she looks like a 
 ghost. Red-headed women always need high 
 color, or low lights." 
 
 Midnight was approaching, and the scurrying 
 waiters were adding the last touches to the 
 supper tables in the restaurant. It had become 
 the custom of the club, since the war, to hold an 
 ordinary informal dance on this evening. Previ- 
 ously it had been given over to a masked ball 
 which was rivaled in gayety only by the ante- 
 bellum Election Night and New Year's Eve affairs. 
 Now, exactly at midnight, all the lights were to 
 be extinguished except a swinging lantern or two 
 outside, and, although no appropriate toast could 
 be drunk, a simple song of long ago would be sung 
 by the assembled company in memory of those 
 who would return no more to Broadlawns. Sup- 
 per would follow, and then dancing would be re- 
 sumed for an hour or two, but the fun would be 
 more subdued, and the party break up long before 
 the dawn. 
 
 More than one pair of eyes sought the tall clock 
 in the corner as the witching hour approached. A 
 tall, willowy woman, who entered from the ball- 
 room, leaning on Ogden Bowles ' arm, looked solic- 
 itously in the direction of the clock. Her face
 
 UNDER THE DRAGON LANTERN 43 
 
 was waxen, and her large, topaz-glinting eyes 
 were deeply circled by not unbecoming blue 
 shadows. 
 
 "Perhaps I should not have urged you to 
 dance, " the broker murmured solicitously as she 
 paused, swaying for a moment with one hand at 
 her slim throat. "I hope it did not tire you too 
 much. Shall we sit out the rest in the conserva- 
 tory?" 
 
 Mrs. Carter shook her head, and her hand 
 slipped down and rested upon her breast as she 
 replied: "No, thanks, I am not tired, but just 
 a little dizzy, I think. Let us go out to the ver- 
 anda for a few minutes and get a breath of air. ' ' 
 
 "You won't take cold?" he asked. "Can't I 
 get your wrap for you? You left it in the down- 
 stairs cloak room, I think." 
 
 "If you will be so good." She smiled faintly 
 at him. l * I will wait for you in the conservatory. ' ' 
 
 Yet, when he had departed upon his errand, 
 Mrs. Carter waited only until he had disappeared, 
 then moved swiftly over to the entrance door and 
 out into the chilly obscurity of the veranda. At 
 first she blinked in the sudden transition from the 
 brilliantly lighted foyer and could see nothing but 
 the faint, swaying blur of the lanterns. Then she 
 beheld a stocky, bareheaded figure with a shock
 
 44 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 of heavy hair, standing over by the railing with 
 his back to her. 
 
 Save for his presence, the veranda was deserted, 
 and Mrs. Carter halted, but at that moment the 
 music of the one-step ceased, and the crunch of 
 footsteps on the gravel of the driveway was 
 plainly audible. She moved over noiselessly to the 
 railing, and had almost reached the unconscious 
 figure before she spoke: "Good evening, Mr. 
 Grant." 
 
 "Ah, Mrs. er Carter!" The house secretary 
 turned deferentially and peered at her through 
 his heavy-rimmed glasses as he bowed. "I 
 had heard some of the other members say that you 
 were ill, but I'm glad that your indisposition has 
 passed." 
 
 "Thank you," she responded quietly. "It was 
 nothing serious. Ever since I came North again 
 to live I have found the first change from summer 
 to autumn very trying, but I have no doubt I 
 shall grow accustomed to it in time." 
 
 "You have lived in the Southwest?" he asked 
 quickly. 
 
 "No, in North Carolina." She spoke with a 
 trace of surprise in her well-bred, level tones, and 
 in the shadows the hand upon her breast tensed
 
 UNDER THE DRAGON LANTERN 45 
 
 suddenly and then dropped to her side. "What 
 part of the Southwest were you told that I came 
 from, Mr. Grant?" 
 
 ' ' No one has mentioned your name, Mrs. Carter. 
 When you spoke of coming North again I thought 
 instinctively of Dallas, Texas. You were not 
 there by any chance about three years ago?" 
 
 "I have never been in Texas in my life." Mrs. 
 Carter laughed in half-bored amusement, but her 
 laughter ended in a little shiver as a cutting sweep 
 of the night breeze sent the dry leaves eddying 
 along the drive. "Did you fancy that you had 
 seen me there, or some one, perhaps, of the same 
 name? I do not think my late husband had any 
 connections in Dallas. ' ' 
 
 "No." Mr. Grant shook his head. "It was 
 not the name, although that of the lady you re- 
 semble sounded very like yours. I saw her under 
 circumstances which tended to impress her upon 
 my memory, and, if you will pardon me for being 
 personal, Mrs. Carter, when I first saw you here 
 at the club it was as though she herself had walked 
 into my little office." 
 
 "How interesting!" Mrs. Carter laughed again 
 with a slight note of irony and turned as Ogden 
 Bowles emerged upon the veranda with her wrap.
 
 46 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 "I would feel more curiosity as to the identity 
 of this mysterious double of mine, Mr. Grant, 
 were she not about the fiftieth of whom I have 
 been told. There must be something about auburn 
 hair which makes all its possessors seem akin." 
 
 "If I dared I should scold you for coming out 
 here without waiting for your cape, Mrs. Carter ! ' ' 
 There was playful concern in Ogden Bowies' tone. 
 "I looked for you in the conservatory, but found 
 no one there except little Miss Dare and Ralph 
 Fraser. Evening, Grant!" 
 
 The house secretary returned the salutation, 
 and then, as the music started again, he moved 
 away and took up his stand once more in the win- 
 dow beneath the dragon lantern. 
 
 Mrs. Carter, instead of permitting her escort to 
 place her wrap about her shoulders, took it from 
 him and laid it over her arm. 
 
 "You would rather dance!" Bowles asked. 
 "This is the last before midnight, you know, but 
 I did not think you felt up to it." 
 
 ' ' I don 't. ' ' Mrs. Carter smiled wanly. ' ' You '11 
 forgive me, won't you, if I run away to the dress- 
 ing room upstairs and rest for a few minutes? I'll 
 join you in the foyer after the singing is over 
 and the lights go up." 
 
 "As my lady pleases," he replied with a dar-
 
 UNDER THE DEAGON LANTERN 47 
 
 ingly tender note in his tones. "You will find me 
 waiting for you at the foot of the stairs." 
 
 At the moment before the music struck up Ralph 
 Fraser, in the conservatory, was asking in a curi- 
 ously detached tone: "Who is the Mrs. Carter 
 for whom Mr. Bowles was inquiring just now? I 
 don't believe I have met her." 
 
 "She's that tall, awfully pretty, red-haired 
 woman he brought to the dance to-night," Alice 
 Dare replied. "Surely you must have seen her; 
 she is so striking looking that she quite puts every 
 one else in the shade,* although she never seems 
 to make the slightest effort to do so." 
 
 "So she is Mrs. Carter." Fraser paused and 
 then added : "I noticed her when they came, but 
 only because there seemed to be something oddly 
 familiar about her that I couldn't place. Is she 
 a resident of the neighborhood?" 
 
 "Yes. She came from the South somewhere 
 about two years ago and purchased the Horton 
 cottage. Don't you think the way she wears her 
 hair drawn over her ears makes her look posi- 
 tively saintly?" Alice demanded with girlish 
 enthusiasm. "Not another woman at Broad- 
 lawns would dare attempt it ! I think that is one 
 reason why they are catty to her all except Mrs. 
 Jack Fraser but she is so sweet she never seems
 
 48 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 to notice it. Oh, here comes your brother for me 
 now, and you have this dance with Mrs. Jack, 
 haven't you?" 
 
 Gerald Landon, having thankfully relinquished 
 Mrs. Dorrance to her husband, appeared hopefully 
 in the door of the conservatory. As Alice passed 
 with Jack Fraser she gave him the coolest of 
 little nods, conscious that her aunt's sharp eyes 
 were upon her from her stronghold in the corner 
 of the foyer. 
 
 Gerald hovered disconsolately in the doorway, 
 and once again his gaze traveled idly out over the 
 scene. The orchestra jazzed its maddest melody, 
 and the hands of the tall clock crept nearer, minute 
 by minute, to twelve. Waiters still dodged hur- 
 riedly between the dancers, with the final articles 
 for the supper room; Murdock, the steward, had 
 risen behind his desk and was reaching over with 
 a golf stick or cane as though to intercept one of 
 them; all at once the merry pandemonium ceased 
 abruptly in the middle of a bar, the laughing, chat- 
 tering voices died, and in the sudden silence the 
 silvery chimes of midnight sounded from the 
 clock. As they rang out upon the stillness the 
 lights dimmed to a dull orange glow, and with the 
 twelfth note they went out. Only the weird glim-
 
 UNDER THE DRAGON LANTERN 49 
 
 jner of the dragon lantern on the veranda lighted 
 the scene. The dancers stood motionless, and 
 softly there pulsed out upon the air the throbbing 
 tones of the violins in the first notes of "Auld 
 Lang Syne." 
 
 Gently, with the tenderness of reminiscence, 
 voices took it up here and there, swelling as they 
 were gradually augmented by others in the well- 
 known refrain: 
 
 11 'Should auld acquaintance be forgot ' " 
 
 A sharp report crackling across the wide foyer 
 brought the music to an abrupt halt. Almost si- 
 multaneously with it a woman screamed, and then 
 there came a choking cry and a hideous, slithering 
 sound, followed by a heavy thud from somewhere 
 outside. 
 
 "Lights!" Ralph Fraser's quick, authoritative 
 tones broke the instant of strained silence, and, 
 after a fumbling interval, the foyer and then the 
 whole lower floor of the clubhouse burst into 
 effulgence. 
 
 That broke the tension, and every one crowded 
 eagerly forward in the wake of Ralph Fraser, who 
 had started for the veranda in the direction 
 from which the cry and dull sound of a fall had 
 come. But, in advance of all the others, Samuel
 
 50 THE TEIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 Estridge passed Mrs. Carter, where she had halted 
 at the foot of the staircase. The steward bent for 
 a moment beneath his desk, and then vaulted over 
 it as the attorney reached the veranda door. 
 
 After one look Estridge turned to Ralph Fraser, 
 at his elbow. "Back!" he exclaimed. "Keep the 
 women back!" 
 
 But it was too late. The onrush had been too 
 strong to be stemmed, and men and women to- 
 gether swarmed out upon the veranda. Beneath 
 the dragon lantern, before the open window which 
 looked in upon the foyer, something lay stretched 
 full length upon the floor. It was a man's stocky 
 form, and there seemed something strangely fa- 
 miliar and yet unfamiliar about it. He was obvi- 
 ously a young man, scarcely in his thirties, with 
 wide-open, staring dark eyes and sleek black hair. 
 Under the swaying light of the lantern it seemed 
 that he leered horribly at them. 
 
 "Who is it? What has happened to him?" a 
 voice demanded sharply. And then they all saw. 
 
 Beside the still head there lay a crushed and 
 twisted pair of heavy-rimmed glasses and a wig 
 of coarse, sandy hair, while upon the breast a 
 splotch of crimson had widened slowly, and a tiny 
 rivulet trickled down from it to the floor.
 
 UNDER THE DRAGON LANTERN 51 
 
 " Ladies and gentlemen/' Samuel Estridge 
 turned to the huddled, horror-stricken group be- 
 hind him, * * it is the man whom you knew as James 
 Grant, our recently acquired house secretary. He 
 has been shot!"
 
 CHAPTEE IV 
 
 THE GLISTENING STRAND 
 
 TT was Murdock, the steward, who first found 
 * his voice. " Grant's shot,'* he said, and ad- 
 vanced excitedly, brandishing the golf stick which 
 he had stooped behind his desk to pick up the 
 instant before he vaulted over. "Who did it, sir? 
 He's not " 
 
 Jack Fraser and Ogden Bowles were beside 
 Estridge, who bent over the body, and the former 
 replied briefly: "I'm afraid so. Ralph!" 
 
 But his brother, after hearing the alarm, seemed 
 for the moment to have disappeared, and Estridge, 
 rising, took command of the situation. 
 
 "Jack, jump in your car and drive as fast as 
 you can for Doctor Fellowes." He drew the 
 younger man aside for a moment; then, as the 
 latter nodded in comprehension and dashed head- 
 long down the veranda steps, he returned to the 
 terror-stricken group. "The rest of you go in- 
 side, please; let no one leave the club. Murdock, 
 
 52
 
 THE GLISTENING STRAND 53 
 
 round up all the waiters and cooks and other at- 
 tendants, and see that they are kept under guard 
 in the billiard room. Bowles, would you mind 
 going with Murdock to see that they are all de- 
 tained? Landon, call Rutherford Sowerby, will 
 you?" 
 
 "Who is this man, anyway?" Phil Dorrance's 
 voice fairly squeaked in his excitement. "Why 
 was he here disguised like that?" 
 
 No one paid any heed to him, however. Doctor 
 Fellowes was the general practitioner for the 
 Broadlawns colony, and he was the county coroner 
 as well. There had been a grave significance in 
 Estridge's manner after his examination of the 
 body, and no doubt was left as to the grim capacity 
 in which the physician's presence was required. 
 
 "I am here." Rutherford Sowerby 's deep 
 growl sounded close at hand, and he limped pain- 
 fully forward as the rest, in obedience to Es- 
 tridge's command, retreated within doors. Here 
 Mrs. Sowerby created a counter diversion by 
 fainting. 
 
 "Well, Rutherford, somebody has done for our 
 man." The attorney turned to the other. "Jack 
 Fraser is the only member of the house committee 
 present to-night besides ourselves, and I've sent 
 him for the coroner. I've also seen to it that no
 
 54 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 one member, guest, or club attendant leaves 
 before they are officially permitted to do so." 
 
 ''Humph! Locked the stable door after the 
 horse was stolen, have you!" Sowerby stood 
 gazing grimly down at the body. "I heard the 
 shot, but I thought it was a bursting automobile 
 tire. I'm not surprised, though. I was fool 
 enough to let you and the rest of the house com- 
 mittee overrule me, but, if you '11 remember, when 
 the idea of planting him here was first suggested, 
 I warned you that he should have some associates 
 at hand to work with him. This wasn't any one- 
 man job. They've got onto him, and he must have 
 discovered something at last. Or, suppose that 
 Harvest Dance affair has been repeated to-night 
 after* all, and he 's been gotten out of the way ! ' ' 
 
 At this moment Ralph Fraser reappeared and 
 came quickly toward them. 
 
 "Mr. Estridge, you seem to be in charge," he 
 remarked. "I've had a little experience with 
 affairs of this sort down where I come from, and, 
 if I can be of any assistance, please command me. 
 I take it that this Grant wasn't just what he was 
 supposed to be." 
 
 "He wasn't," Estridge replied briefly. He was 
 kneeling beside the body, rapidly going through 
 the pockets, and now he rose with a long strip of
 
 THE GLISTENING STRAND 55 
 
 paper in his hand. "You can help us if you will 
 be so good, Fraser. Here is a list of all the mem- 
 bers, guests, club attendants, and extra waiters 
 hired from the caterers for this occasion. Your 
 brother has gone for the coroner, but every one 
 else must remain until they are officially permitted 
 to leave by the authorities. Will you see to it? 
 Bowles and Landon are attending to it, but they 
 can't keep an eye on every one, and naturally all 
 of us are technically under suspicion. ' ' 
 
 "Where are all the chauffeurs and the watch- 
 man, anyway?" Sowerby glanced out at the semi- 
 circle of empty cars. "You slipped up there, 
 Sam!" 
 
 Ealph smiled. "That's why I beat it indoors 
 as soon as I saw what had happened, and that 
 Grant had worn a wig and glasses, evidently for no 
 other purpose than to make himself appear some 
 one who he wasn't. I'm only a guest here, gentle- 
 men, a stranger, and not in your confidence, but I 
 surmised something of the truth. Seeing that the 
 driveway was deserted I took it upon myself to 
 corral those whom you might overlook in the first 
 excitement. The chauffeurs and watchman were 
 shooting crap in that room off the kitchen, and, if 
 I'm any judge, they were all so intent that none 
 of them even heard the shot. But I took care to
 
 56 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 explain to them that it wouldn't be healthy for 
 any of them, to leave the room until they were 
 sent for. I had the brass to use your name, Mr. 
 Estridge." 
 
 "I'm glad you did, and you've rendered us all 
 a service in acting so promptly," the attorney re- 
 sponded cordially. "If Doctor Fellowes isn't out 
 on a case, Jack ought to have him here in a few 
 minutes now, but time is precious, and I'd like to 
 have all the data available for him and the other 
 county authorities that we can gather. Sorry I 
 can't take you completely into our confidence now, 
 but, besides Mr. Sowerby and your brother, no one 
 present to-night, except myself, knows the real 
 identity of Grant, nor why he has been here 
 incognito." 
 
 "No one but the person who fired the shot, 
 Sam," Sowerby interrupted dryly. "He must 
 either have guessed the truth and been waiting 
 for this occasion and the moment of darkness to 
 rid himself of danger of retribution for what hap- 
 pened before, or planned another coup for to- 
 night. How many cars brought people here this 
 evening? Does anybody know? It would have 
 been easy enough, in that minute before the lights 
 were turned on again, for the murderer to have 
 made off with anybody's car, or slipped away on
 
 THE GLISTENING STRAND 57 
 
 foot through the shrubbery, for that matter. This 
 thing has been bungled from start to finish, but 
 no one would listen to me!'* 
 
 "It has been bungled fatally as far as poor 
 Grant is concerned, and I feel criminally respon- 
 sible for not foreseeing the possibility of this 
 
 crime, but as for the rest well " Estridge 
 
 shrugged his shoulders. "Whoever shot him is 
 still in the clubhouse, Rutherford, you can depend 
 upon that, or, if he is skulking about the grounds, 
 he will soon be brought in. Do you remember our 
 conversation yesterday? You were impatient that 
 Grant had not accomplished the purpose for which 
 we brought him here, and you predicted a repeti- 
 tion of the Harvest Dance affair. I didn't think it 
 expedient to tell you then what I had arranged on 
 my own initiative, but I happen to know our watch- 
 man's predilection for a congenial crap game, and 
 Grant couldn't have been expected to keep an eye 
 on everything to-night. I have some picked men 
 scattered about the grounds and the roads leading 
 to the club. They have orders not to close in 
 before I give them a certain signal, no matter 
 what they hear, unless they catch some one trying 
 to leave." 
 
 "Suppose they've closed in on Jack Fraser!" 
 Sowerby suggested.
 
 58 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 "No fear of that! You saw me draw him aside 
 before I sent him for the coroner ; that was to give 
 him a countersign which would be recognized if 
 he were stopped," replied Estridge. "Whipping 
 a large silk handkerchief from his pocket, he 
 stooped once more and laid it over the face of the 
 dead man. Then he remarked: "We must not 
 move the body, of course, and I have reasons of 
 my own for preferring to remain beside it until 
 the coroner arrives. In the meantime, Fraser, if 
 you'll just go and see that Bowles and Landon 
 keep the crowd in order and quieted." 
 
 ' ' Certainly. ' ' Ralph Fraser paused in the door- 
 way. * ' Have you examined the wound f ' ' 
 
 "Only superficially," the attorney responded. 
 "It was caused by a bullet of small caliber, and it 
 must have pierced the heart, but the autopsy will 
 determine the details definitely. There were no 
 powder marks, as you see, so it must have been 
 fired from some distance." 
 
 " *A bullet of small caliber, 7 " repeated Fraser 
 thoughtfully. "I don't know how highly you rate 
 the capabilities of your local authorities, Mr. Es- 
 tridge, nor what is back of this little affair, but 
 it looks as though they would find their work cut 
 out for them, doesn't it?" 
 
 He disappeared within, and Estridge turned to
 
 THE GLISTENING STRAND 59 
 
 the bank president. "Rutherford, get rid of any 
 one who may happen to be in the locker room and, 
 when you're sure that you are alone, use the 
 farthest booth from the door. Tell the operator 
 to give you a clear wire, and be careful not to 
 speak loud enough for the others to hear you." 
 
 "Say, Sam, it seems to me there's enough 
 darned mystery about this thing without your 
 making more of it! I'm a member of the house 
 committee, too, you know!" interrupted Sowerby. 
 ' ' Of course we deputized you to engage this fellow 
 Grant, but what is the idea of stationing the 
 guards about without taking us into your confi- 
 dence? I suppose that notice on the bulletin 
 board, which has set so many tongues wagging, 
 meant that those who left early and didn't come to 
 you for your fool, melodramatic countersign would 
 be held up. What excuse would you have given?" 
 
 "None but the truth," Estridge replied quietly. 
 ' ' That, in view of the fact that so many valuable 
 jewels were worn by the ladies present this eve- 
 ning, it had been thought best to station extra 
 watchmen about the grounds who would permit 
 no one to pass out without proving his identity. 
 As a matter of fact no one has attempted to 
 leave. ' ' 
 
 " ' Thought best!' " snorted the other resent-
 
 60 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 fully. "Who the deuce asked you to think for 
 the whole club, Sam! Not but what the idea was 
 a sensible one, but why didn't you tell, at least, 
 young Fraser and me, as the only other 
 members of the house committee who intended to 
 be present? It was confoundedly irregular of 
 you I What's this mysterious 'reason of your own* 
 for hanging around the poor fellow 's body till the 
 coroner gets here, and who was he, anyway?" 
 
 "Your last question will be answered if you'll 
 telephone, as I was about to ask you, Rutherford." 
 Estridge was unruffled by the outburst of his com- 
 panion. "Call up 'Hare's Detective Agency in 
 New York and tell them that Jim Doyle, the oper- 
 ative whom they assigned to the job out here, has 
 been done in, and that the county authorities have 
 been notified. Give them the barest details, say 
 that you have got to be careful of an open wire, 
 that you are speaking for me, and that I will com- 
 municate with them personally and at length in 
 the morning." 
 
 "So he was one of 'Hare's men, eh?" The 
 bank president stared. "I presume you know 
 what that kind of a message will do, don't you? It 
 will bring more of 'Hare 's private detectives out 
 here to clash with the local authorities." 
 
 "That is precisely what I want," returned Es-
 
 THE GLISTENING STRAND 61 
 
 tridge. "Not a clash with the local authorities, 
 necessarily, but we can't avoid notoriety now in 
 any case, and we need the most expert assistance 
 we can obtain. O'Hare is not the sort to let an 
 operative of his be killed in the line of duty with- 
 out knowing why and by whom, and, if I'm not 
 mistaken, he'll put his star man on the job as 
 soon as he can get him here. We'll need him, 
 Eutherford we're in deep waters." 
 
 "Not too deep for you to swim in, though!" 
 Sowerby's small eyes crinkled at the corners. "I 
 forgot your record in the courts, and I'll take back 
 what I said; I guess you can do the thinking for 
 the club, Sam. I'll phone O'Hare, and then, if 
 you want me, you will find me with the rest." 
 
 Estridge then reached inside the sash and 
 pulled down the shade. Next he closed the window 
 and stood for a minute staring down at the body 
 of the dead detective. Doyle, or Grant, as the 
 other club members had known him, had not been 
 off duty on this night of all nights as the attorney 
 very well realized. Why had he taken up his 
 station at that particular window and never left 
 it? Was it merely to watch the dancing, to carry 
 out his impersonation of the house secretary, the 
 employee who was yet accorded the privilege of 
 looking on at that in which he might not share,
 
 62 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 or had he had some deeper motive for maintaining 
 that point of vantage? 
 
 The opened window gave an unobstructed view 
 of the huge entrance hall which was being used 
 for the overflow from the ballroom; a view, also, 
 of his own closed office door, of Murdock's desk, 
 and the wide staircase between, as well as 
 glimpses of the conservatory on one side, and the 
 supper room on the other. Surely the detective 
 could not have chosen a more central and, at the 
 same time, unobtrusive position, yet there were 
 other windows in the row on either side of the 
 veranda door from which he could have looked in 
 on precisely the same scene windows above which 
 no glowing lantern hung to make him so sure a 
 mark in that moment of semi-darkness! 
 
 Estridge glanced involuntarily up at the gro- 
 tesque dragon swaying above him, and he discov- 
 ered that the light within it was flickering crazily. 
 He knew that most of the lanterns had been strung 
 on electric wires connected with the main switch, 
 so that they, together with the brackets and chan- 
 deliers within doors, might be extinguished for 
 that midnight moment of respect to "absent 
 members," but at stated intervals along the ver- 
 anda some were to have been fitted with candles 
 and left to give a slight glow of light. The dragon
 
 THE GLISTENING STRAND 63 
 
 lantern must have been one of the latter, and now 
 its short candle length was guttering; had the 
 pseudo-secretary known of this arrangement? 
 
 While the attorney stood meditating the candle 
 flared suddenly and went out, and the writhing 
 dragon became merely a decoration in red and 
 black, and the lantern itself suddenly collapsed 
 and fell to the floor at his feet. Estridge started 
 mechanically to pick it up when something within 
 it caught his eye something which gleamed in 
 the electric lights like a coil of sparks. 
 
 With an exclamation he glanced about him at 
 the deserted veranda, then, stooping swiftly be- 
 neath the line of the window ledge, lest his shadow 
 show against the shade, he drew forth from the 
 base of the lantern a strand which glittered in his 
 hands like living fire. 
 
 Backing away from the window, he straightened 
 and looked down at the still form at his feet. 
 
 "I know now." His lips formed the woids in 
 a toneless whisper. "You turned the trick, l)oyle, 
 even though it cost you your life ! You made good, 
 and no man can do more 1 ' '
 
 CHAPTEE V 
 
 BENWICK CRANE ARRIVES 
 
 THE shrill note of the siren, which cut the 
 night air not many minutes after Estridge's 
 discovery, was followed by the droning roar of 
 an engine, and Jack Eraser's car swirled madly 
 up the curving drive to stop with a jolt before 
 the veranda steps. 
 
 "Is that you, Estridge?" the latter called 
 cautiously. "We're in luck. I found the sheriff 
 playing checkers with Doctor Fellowes and 
 brought him along, too!" 
 
 "Good evening, doctor, or rather good morn- 
 ing, for it is past midnight." Estridge advanced 
 and held out his hand as a tall, slightly stoop- 
 shouldered man with a trimly pointed gray beard 
 mounted the steps, followed by a corpulent, but 
 surprisingly active, figure. "Sheriff, I suppose 
 Mr. Eraser has told you of the crime which has 
 been committed here to-night. I am prepared to 
 give you all the details in our possession and to 
 
 64
 
 65 
 
 assure you that no one has been permitted to leave 
 the premises." 
 
 They shook hands, and the coroner proceeded 
 straightway to his investigation of the body, but 
 Sheriff Coburn, after a more cursory glance at 
 it, turned again to the attorney. 
 
 "1*11 let the doc have his innings first, Mr. 
 Estridge, but I'd like the truth about what Mr. 
 Fraser tried to tell us while we were whizzing out 
 here. I understand that the dead man has been 
 acting as an employee of the club for the past few 
 days, but he was actually a city detective, engaged 
 on the quiet by some of you to find out who has 
 been committing some robberies." His usually 
 good-natured eyes blinked resentfully in his round 
 face. "I suppose our country methods weren't 
 good enough for you city folks who have settled 
 out our way, but that's neither here nor there. 
 Your smart operative has let the thief get the 
 drop on him, and now it's up to us after all. We'll 
 want the whole story, sir, that we should have had 
 in the beginning." 
 
 "You'll have it, sheriff." Estridge 's tone was 
 the blandly conciliatory one which many an assist- 
 ant district attorney knew to the cost of his pres- 
 tige and the loss of the State 's case. * * Some minor 
 discrepancies appeared in the club's accounts after
 
 66 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 the departure of our former secretary, Mr. Mar- 
 tin, which we the house committee preferred to 
 make up out of our own pockets rather than start 
 a scandal." 
 
 "Didn't strike you, as a lawyer, that you were 
 pretty near compounding a felony, did it, Mr. Es- 
 tridge?" The sheriff rubbed his chin reflectively. 
 
 "Hardly," Estridge observed. "Martin could 
 have had nothing to do with the crime w T hich we 
 employed this detective to investigate; the rob- 
 bery took place after his departure for the West 
 on the night of our Harvest Dance, in fact. You 
 would have been notified at once, but the victim 
 herself objected to any stir being made about it 
 in the neighborhood and preferred to call in a 
 private detective from the city." 
 
 " 'Herself?' repeated the sheriff. "One of the 
 ladies was robbed? What was it, jewelry? Who 
 was it?" 
 
 "It was Mrs. de Forest, and she was robbed 
 of this. ' ' As he spoke the attorney drew from his 
 pocket the glistening strand, which he had found 
 coiled about the base of the dragon lantern, and 
 extended it to the county official who retreated a 
 step, his eyes bulging. 
 
 "You don't say!" he exclaimed. "That's not
 
 BENWICK CRANE ARRIVES 67 
 
 Mrs. cle Forest's necklace, the famous de Forest 
 diamonds ? ' ' 
 
 Samuel Estridge nodded. "They dropped or 
 were clipped from her neck some time during the 
 Harvest Dance which was held late in September ; 
 as soon as she discovered her loss, with rare pres- 
 ence of mind, she made no scene, but reported the 
 matter quietly to various members of the house 
 committee, of which I was one. After the dance 
 was over we held a special meeting, and the course, 
 which we subsequently adopted, was decided 
 upon," he resumed. "I was deputized to engage 
 a man from 'Hare's agency to come down here 
 and pose as the new club secretary in order to 
 get in touch with both members and attendants 
 and discover, if he could, the identity of the thief. 
 You see, sheriff, every one here that night was 
 virtually open to possible suspicion of having 
 stolen the string of diamonds, just as every one 
 present this evening is a possible suspect of 
 murder. ' ' 
 
 "Then this man didn't find out who had taken 
 the necklace?" demanded the sheriff as he took 
 the strand of gleaming jewels from the attorney 
 and ran it gingerly through his pudgy fingers. 
 "Mr. Fraser didn't have time to tell us whether
 
 68 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 Grant had made an ante-mortem statement or 
 not." 
 
 ' ' Grant or Doyle, to give him his real name 
 must have died instantly, and I am afraid we shall 
 never know the whole truth about to-night," re- 
 sponded Estridge gravely. "We can only be cer- 
 tain that he discovered the hiding place of the 
 diamonds and was keeping guard beneath it until 
 such time as he might take possession of them 
 without the knowledge of the thief ; but the latter 
 must have suspected his intention and fired the 
 fatal shot when the lights were lowered for a few 
 minutes at midnight. ' ' 
 
 "What were the lights lowered for? You folks 
 dance till all hours out here. You say that this 
 fellow Doyle was keeping guard beneath the place 
 where the diamonds were hidden ; then, if the body 
 hasn't been moved " The sheriff was not per- 
 mitted to finish his question. 
 
 "It hasn't," said Estridge. "They were inside 
 that Chinese lantern which swung just above the 
 window all this evening. I only discovered them 
 myself by accident, a few minutes before your 
 arrival. The lantern fell, and, if you will examine 
 the diamonds, even in this light you will see that 
 congealed candle grease is still adhering to them." 
 
 Doctor Fellowes had concluded his preliminary
 
 RENWICK CEANE ARRIVES 69 
 
 examination of the body, and now he approached 
 silently and listened while the attorney briefly, but 
 concisely, summed up the events of the night. 
 
 "What do you make of it, doc!" Sheriff Co- 
 burn asked with the familiarity of lifelong asso- 
 ciation. "How far off was the shot fired?" 
 
 "A considerable distance, I should say; I don't 
 want to commit myself before the autopsy, but I 
 think a high-powered pistol of small caliber was 
 used, and it might have been fired anywhere from 
 twenty to forty feet away," Doctor Fellowes re- 
 plied cautiously. "The bullet penetrated or 
 passed very close to the heart." 
 
 The sheriff was obviously much impressed. 
 "You've hit on a mighty valuable clew right 
 
 there! It would take a pretty good shot " 
 
 He broke off suddenly, remembering the presence 
 of Samuel Estridge. While the sheriff walked 
 over to examine the dead man for himself, the 
 coroner asked: "You've got a light motor truck 
 here belonging to the club, haven't you, Mr. Es- 
 tridge? I've seen it going to the station with 
 golf bags. I'd like to remove the body in that for 
 the autopsy. Have you notified the detective 
 agency of his death?" 
 
 1 ' Yes ; another member of the house committee, 
 President Rutherford Sowerby of the Tradesmen's
 
 70 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 Bank, has done so." Estridge paused. "I may 
 add that only he, Mrs. de Forest, Mr. Jack Fraser, 
 and myself were aware, until to-night's tragedy, 
 that the necklace was stolen, or that Doyle was 
 other than the club secretary he pretended to be. 
 The other members of the house committee, who 
 were present at the special meeting after the Har- 
 vest Dance, have been either ill or away since that 
 night, and we had not then decided in what capac- 
 ity we would introduce a private detective here. 
 For reasons which are obvious, of course, we 
 should like to keep this whole affair as quiet as 
 possible and avoid all the scandal and notoriety 
 that we can, at any rate, until the identity of the 
 criminal has been discovered." 
 
 Doctor Fellowes shook his head. "You won't 
 find that very easy if every one rushed out here 
 after the shot was fired and saw that the man had 
 been palpably disguised," he remarked. "The 
 caterer's people and the orchestra from the city 
 are bound to talk to reporters. ' ' 
 
 "Oh, you'll have to stand for the notoriety, all 
 right, Mr. Estridge!" The sheriff had hung the 
 lightless lantern again on its hook and rejoined 
 them in time to catch the drift of the coroner's 
 words. "Even if Mrs. de Forest hasn't told them 
 by now of the theft of her necklace, it's all bound
 
 EENWICK CRANE AERIVES 71 
 
 to come out at the inquest. Here's Mr. Fraser." 
 Jack Fraser had parked his car, stopped for a 
 brief conversation with one of the special guards 
 who had been stationed about the grounds, and 
 now he ascended the veranda steps and came 
 toward them. Arrangements were quickly made 
 for him to take out the light motor truck and 
 drive the coroner and his gruesome charge back 
 to the village. The sheriff and Estridge entered 
 the main hall of the clubhouse. 
 
 A strange sight met their gaze where so short 
 a time before groups of light-hearted people had 
 dominated the scene. The center of the floor was 
 deserted and littered with gloves, handkerchiefs, 
 and broken-plumed fans. Young Mrs. Sowerby 
 was stretched upon a bench which had been hastily 
 drawn from the conservatory. Jack Fraser 's wife 
 and Alice Dare were ministering to her, and, near 
 tlie closed door of the late pseudo-secretary's little 
 office, Phil Dorrance had buttonholed the reluctant 
 Gerald Landon and appeared to be questioning him 
 excitedly. At the foot of the stairs, where she 
 had halted when the report of the shot came, Mrs. 
 Carter had seated herself, and Ogden Bowles bent 
 solicitously above her, but of Rutherford Sowerby, 
 Ralph Fraser, and Murdock there was no sign. 
 Sounds of varying degrees of hysteria from the
 
 72 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 conservatory, ballroom, and supper rooms indi- 
 cated where the rest of the women members and 
 guests had taken refuge all save two. Mrs. de 
 Forest was once more in her chair in the corner, 
 tacitly reserved for her at all club functions, but 
 her usually erect figure was huddled, and her face 
 seemed suddenly to have become lined and very 
 old. She was staring straight before her, appar- 
 ently oblivious to the soothing utterances of her 
 one faithful satellite, Mrs. Dorrance, but she 
 roused herself and glanced up as the attorney and 
 the sheriff approached. 
 
 "I have been a proud old woman, Mr. Coburn, 
 and indirectly that poor young man's death lies 
 at my door ! ' ' she said brokenly. i i If I had not in- 
 sisted to the house committee on avoiding village 
 gossip and the hounding of society reporters from 
 town by having a private investigation conducted, 
 he would never have come here to meet his end!" 
 
 The sheriff had always been secretly in awe of 
 this grand lady of the fashionable colony which 
 had invaded Broadlawns and, like most of the na- 
 tives, had cloaked this feeling beneath an attitude 
 of swaggering independence. But, before her dis- 
 arming self-abasement, his good nature reasserted 
 itself, and he replied with grim humor: "No, 
 ma'am. You would probably have called in Con-
 
 EENWICK CRANE ARRIVES 73 
 
 stable Meeks, and he would have called in me, and 
 then, if either of us had been as successful as that 
 young man was in what he undertook, we'd most 
 likely be lying where he is to-night ; that is, if we 'd 
 been so careless as to stay in the light!" 
 
 ' * ' Successful ! ' " Mrs. de Forest caught up the 
 word with a sharp exclamation. She turned in 
 bewilderment to the attorney. "Mr. Estridge, 
 what does the sheriff mean?" 
 
 Mrs. Dorrance was staring from one to the 
 other of them with avid interest, and Sheriff Co- 
 burn interposed bluntly : " I '11 be glad to tell you, 
 ma'am, if you will come where we can talk pri- 
 vately. I understand that this affair isn't to be 
 known generally throughout the club, just yet." 
 
 "Poor Mr. Grant's office is bolted, but why not 
 try the ladies' locker room?" Mrs. Dorrance 
 suggested, rising. "I know there must be some 
 terrible mystery back of what has happened to- 
 night, and I won't intrude, but, dear Mrs. de For- 
 est, I am sure you will confide in me as soon as the 
 opportunity offers." 
 
 She bowed to the sheriff and Samuel Estridge, 
 and, as she moved away, the attorney observed: 
 1 ' That was not a bad suggestion. Shall we adjourn 
 to the ladies' locker room?" 
 
 Mrs. de Forest rose, masking her agitation from
 
 74 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 those in the hall who might be watching them. 
 The three made their way to the room indicated, 
 and here the sheriff, after carefully fastening 
 the door, drew from his pocket the necklace and 
 placed it in the lady's hands. 
 
 "My diamonds!" she exclaimed. "But where 
 
 "I'm sorry not to be able to explain now, 
 ma'am, and I'll have to ask you to return them 
 to me again as evidence. I only wanted you to 
 know that they were safe, and I'll give you a 
 receipt for them. You positively identify them, 
 don't you?" 
 
 "Unless this is a paste replica, which only an 
 expert could detect, it is indeed my necklace, ' ' Mrs. 
 de Forest affirmed. "I would be overjoyed at 
 recovering it if it were not for the fact that it cost 
 that unfortunate young detective his life ! Do you 
 know who took it from me at the Harvest Dance, 
 or who fired that shot to-night?" 
 
 "No, ma'am." The sheriff, who had been 
 laboriously writing a receipt, now held the paper 
 out to her. "If you '11 just give me back that neck- 
 lace it will be produced at the inquest and then 
 returned to you, provided nobody's held for trial. 
 Till then I take it that Mr. Sowerby, Mr. Fraser, 
 and Mr. Estridge will be glad if you'd keep as
 
 EENWICK CRANE ARRIVES 75 
 
 quiet about losing it at all as you have during the 
 past month. Of course all the folks here to-night 
 know that Grant was at the club in disguise, and 
 that he was murdered, but no one knows why, and 
 no one but the murderer himself knows yet who 
 pulled the trigger. ' ' 
 
 "Take it!" Mrs. de Forest extended the neck- 
 lace with a gesture of repulsion. "I feel as 
 though there were a stain upon it ! But I don't in 
 the least understand." 
 
 "Mr. Estridge will have to explain to you later, 
 ma'am; I've got other things to do now before 
 the coroner gets back. You know that we work 
 kind of independently in a case like this, and we 
 can't keep the folks here up all night." Sheriff 
 Coburn wrapped the diamonds in his handkerchief 
 and stowed them carefully in an inside pocket. 
 "Got mighty near onto a hundred people here, 
 counting extra help and all, I understand from Mr. 
 Fraser, and it will be some job to weed them out. 
 Mr. Estridge, can I see you for a minute?" 
 
 ' l Look here, sheriff, what was your idea in hang- 
 ing that lantern back on the hook from which it 
 fell when the candle guttered?" the attorney asked 
 when they had taken their leave of the lady and 
 started toward the billiard room. 
 
 The sheriff winked slyly. ' ' Unless you yourself
 
 76 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 put that necklace there, Mr. Estridge, nobody 
 but us and the coroner knows that it has been 
 discovered. I put the lantern back in place before 
 Mr, Fraser came up to the porch after parking 
 his car, and I figured that, as soon as he dared, the 
 thief would be looking for the jewels where he 
 hid them," he replied. "That wouldn't be right 
 away not within half an hour or so after the 
 body was taken off for fear of drawing attention 
 to himself, but I'd like to swear you in as a 
 special deputy, until I can get one of the boys out 
 from the village, and have you kind of hang around 
 where you can watch that lantern from now on 
 and see who goes near it. As a club member you 
 could do it in a natural sort of way that would 
 scare the fellow off, whoever he is, without his 
 actually suspecting that you knew anything. Got 
 a revolver or pistol here at the club?" 
 
 "None that I know of, sheriff," Estridge said. 
 "Suppose, in spite of my presence near that lan- 
 tern, either inside the window or out on the ver- 
 anda, the murderer takes a chance and, on some 
 plausible excuse attempts to remove it? He must 
 be pretty desperate, you know, and he's playing 
 for high stakes. I'm not as young as I was, but 
 I'll tackle him if you say so."
 
 77 
 
 "I believe you would, sir!" the sheriff re- 
 sponded admiringly. " We've heard out here of 
 a few fellows, whom you've had sent up, who 
 threatened to get you when they came out, but 
 none of them tried it yet ! However, I 'm not ask- 
 ing you to look for trouble; if nobody actually 
 tries to touch the lantern don't bother 'em, just 
 get a good look at anybody who hangs around so 
 that you can identify 'em later. But, if anybody 
 tries to tamper with it, don't stop to question 'em, 
 cover 'em with this!" 
 
 They had paused in a deserted corner of the 
 rear hall, and Sheriff Coburn thrust into the hands 
 of his newly appointed deputy a short, but heavy, 
 old-fashioned revolver, which Estridge inserted 
 in the pocket of his dinner jacket. He rarely 
 appeared at the club in more formal evening 
 attire. 
 
 "I understand, sheriff." With a nod he saun- 
 tered back across the rotunda. The return of Jack 
 Eraser's car, bearing Doctor Fellowes and a third 
 man on the spare seat, gave him an excuse for 
 evading the eager questions which assailed him 
 from all sides. 
 
 "The sheriff is interviewing the waiters and 
 assistant stewards in the billiard room, I believe,"
 
 78 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 Estridge replied to the coroner's inquiry. "The 
 watchman and the chauffeurs are in a room off 
 the kitchen, and you'll find the members and guests 
 scattered about within doors." 
 
 "Good! This is Constable Meeks." Doctor 
 Fellowes indicated the tall, shambling, ungainly 
 figure which had occupied the spare seat in the 
 little runabout. "Any parties, club members, or 
 extra help whom he conducts outside you'll know 
 the sheriff and I have finished with for the time 
 being. Mr. Fraser can give them the word that 
 will let them past your special watchmen if they 
 should be stopped in the grounds." 
 
 Estridge nodded to the constable, and the three 
 entered the hall. Estridge then took up his soli- 
 tary vigil. Pacing the veranda he seemed lost in 
 thought, but in reality he was watching keenly for 
 a flitting shadow against the windows, or a 
 stealthy movement among the branches of the 
 shrubbery that swayed and rustled in the night 
 wind upon the lawn. 
 
 The other candle-lit lanterns had long since gone 
 out, and the one which had contained the necklace 
 hung inert. Its once fiery dragon had become an 
 indistinguishable design of inky black, but no one 
 approached it either from within the house or 
 without. Presently a club bus or two rattled up
 
 RENWICK CRANE AEEIVES 79 
 
 to the door and departed with the orchestra, jazz 
 band, and extra waiters and cooks. Later the 
 members and their guests began to depart in their 
 various cars, each group escorted to the steps by 
 the constable. 
 
 A distant village clock struck three, and still the 
 attorney's vigil remained unrelieved and unre- 
 warded. With the departure of Mr. and Mrs. Dor- 
 ranee, bearing the still hysterical Mrs. Sowerby, 
 the constable came toward the watcher and an- 
 nounced : ' ' Sheriff Coburn told me why you were 
 out here, Mr. Estridge. He and Doc Fellowes 
 reckon they'd rather have you in there with them 
 now, being as it was you hired that city detective 
 that got killed, and I'm going to take your place. 
 Ain't seen anything suspicious, have you?" 
 
 Estridge assured the constable that he had not, 
 and, relinquishing his commission and the weapon 
 which was sagging down his coat pocket, he re- 
 turned to the hall of the clubhouse. Here he found 
 Rutherford Sowerby holding forth. 
 
 "This is an outrage! You people are only try- 
 ing to show your petty authority by keeping us 
 here, but I have an important directors' meeting 
 in town in the morning, and I need my rest!" 
 
 "That's all right, sir!" the sheriff retorted pug- 
 naciously. "You folks don't mind cutting up and
 
 80 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 raising high jinks till morning when you're giving 
 a party, but when it comes to a murder inquiry 
 you 're not to be kept out of your beds. ' ' 
 
 ' l ' High jinks ! ' The irate bank president was 
 ready to explode. "I'll have you know that I've 
 had gout for the past ten years! As for this 
 murder, I know no more about it than you! I 
 was playing bridge with three other members in 
 the card room when the lights dimmed at midnight, 
 and we had barely risen when the sound of the 
 shot came. Samuel Estridge had taken command 
 of the situation by the time I reached the veranda, 
 and he asked me to go and telephone to 'Hare 's 
 Detective Agency in town and tell them that their 
 man had been killed. I did so and then went to 
 see that none of the chauffeurs or waiters left the 
 premises. Good heavens ! My estate in this one- 
 horse village of yours is worth over sixty thousand 
 dollars; you don't think I am likely to run away, 
 do you!" 
 
 "I guess we can trust you, Mr. Sowerby," the 
 coroner interposed smoothly. "We'll want you 
 at the inquest, but you will be notified, and, 
 if Sheriff Coburn agrees, we will excuse you 
 now. ' ' 
 
 "I should like to take my wife home, also,"
 
 EENWICK CEANE AEEIVES 81 
 
 Jack Fraser interrupted. * ' She was dancing with 
 my brother, and I was dancing with Miss Dare 
 when the signal came for the singing of 'Auld 
 Lang Syne/ Neither of us left our partners' 
 sides until the report of the shot. At least a score 
 of people must have seen us." 
 
 "It is an imposition to keep the rest of the 
 ladies here, anyway, at this hour ! ' ' Ogden Bowles 
 declared hotly. "I'm not a member of the house 
 committee, and I don't know why Grant was killed 
 or who killed him, but the ladies, at least, should 
 be exempt from this all-night grilling ! Mrs. Car- 
 ter, for instance, is really ill, and Mrs. de Forest 
 and her niece " 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Bowles." From her chair, 
 where by her very presence she seemed to domi- 
 nate the group, Mrs. de Forest cast a withering 
 glance upon him. "Neither my niece nor myself 
 are of the weakly hysterical breed ! I will speak 
 for us both, and we will remain to see this inquiry 
 through ! ' ' 
 
 Before any one could speak again the roar of 
 a car with the muffler cut out sounded from the 
 drive, and it drew up at the steps. Constable 
 Meeks' slightly nasal tones came to them mingled 
 with a quick authoritative masculine voice, and
 
 82 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 then the door opened, and a slender, lithe young 
 man strode into the room. 
 
 "I have motored out from the city in response 
 to a telephone message from here/' he announced. 
 "My name is Renwick Crane."
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 "MOKE THAN ONE" 
 
 AS the newcomer mentioned his name, Sowerby 
 and Bowles glanced at each other, and Es- 
 tridge started eagerly forward. Even the sheriff 
 uttered an exclamation beneath his breath. In the 
 past year or two Eenwick Crane had become cele- 
 brated for his success in the solving of more than 
 one notoriously baffling crime, and the newspapers 
 had sung his praises to the chagrin of the regular 
 metropolitan police department. 'Hare had sent 
 his star man to avenge the death of a lesser 
 colleague. 
 
 "Mr. Crane, I believe we have met in court. 
 I am Samuel Estridge." The attorney spoke 
 hastily and turned toward the local officials. "I 
 am sure that Coroner Fellowes and Sheriff Coburn 
 will be delighted to have so distinguished a con- 
 sultant. You have come, of course, to inquire 
 into the circumstances of the death of your friend 
 who was known among us as the house secretary, 
 
 83
 
 James Grant. As the reason for his presence 
 here has not been generally disclosed I propose 
 that the coroner, the sheriff, Mr. Sowerby, and 
 Mr. Fraser of the house committee, and you and 
 I go into a brief, private session. If the rest of 
 you will wait, I promise you that we shall not be 
 long. ' ' 
 
 He led those whom he had named to the billiard 
 room and closed the door. The others divided 
 themselves insensibly into couples. Mirs. Jack 
 Fraser seated herself beside Mrs. de Forest, and 
 Alice Dare, after hovering about her aunt for a 
 moment, retired to a discreet distance behind her 
 chair, where she indulged in a whispered con- 
 versation with Gerald Landon. Ralph Fraser and 
 Ogden Bowles were talking by the fireplace, and 
 only Mrs. Carter sat alone and a little apart. 
 
 Her pale, almost classic, face between the bands 
 of rich red hair was as expressionless as ever, and 
 her slim hands were folded in her lap, but her 
 lids drooped over her tawny eyes, and it seemed 
 with difficulty that she essayed a faint smile when 
 Bowles at length crossed to her side. 
 
 "You are utterly worn out!" he said. "It is a 
 shame to keep you here after the shock of the 
 tragedy, particularly as you are not well. I blame 
 myself for persuading you to come this evening. "
 
 "MORE THAN ONE" 85 
 
 "Indeed you mustn't," she replied softly. "I 
 am unnerved, of course, but it is of that poor 
 man I am thinking, and of the strange mystery 
 of his presence here. He was a detective, we know 
 that, but I have heard of no robbery at the club, 
 have you?" 
 
 Bowles shook his head. "It's bound to come 
 out at the inquest, anyway, so I can't understand 
 why the house committee are so secretive now. I 
 shouldn't be surprised if the matter turned out 
 to be more of a domestic scandal than a criminal 
 affair," he said. "However, I'm not a he-gossip, 
 and people don't kill for the mere sake of preserv- 
 ing a reputation ! " 
 
 "Not without warning, e\*en down where I came 
 from," Mrs. Carter agreed. "It really does seem 
 rather silly not to tell the members of the club 
 why a detective was employed to spy upon them, 
 especially now that the poor man is dead." 
 
 Behind locked doors in the billiard room, Ruth- 
 erford Sowerby was voicing somewhat the same 
 sentiment, but in less complimentary terms. 
 
 "As long as that old she-dragon's necklace has 
 been recovered, I don't see why the whole story 
 shouldn't be given to the boys of the press when 
 they come swarming out in the morning!" he ex- 
 claimed. "I could have bought the thing for her
 
 86 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 twice over, and now it has created the worst scan- 
 dal a country club ever endured, aside from caus- 
 ing the death of that poor fellow, Doyle. Doctor 
 Fellowes says he'll hold the inquest on Monday 
 at the latest, and that is only two days off. This 
 is Saturday morning." 
 
 "I want those two days.'* Renwick Crane spoke 
 quietly, but with an intensity of purpose which 
 brooked no denial. "Since the coroner and the 
 sheriff have been good enough to give me a free 
 hand in my own investigation and have agreed to 
 cooperate with me in every way compatible with 
 their offices, may I suggest that, until it is needed 
 as evidence at the inquest, the dragon lantern be 
 taken down with the other lanterns and put away 
 as is usual after an entertainment f I have brought 
 some of my own operatives with me from the 
 agency, and one of them will watch any one who 
 approaches that lantern until it is put in evidence. 
 Your constable can be released for more important 
 duty." 
 
 "But what could be more important?" asked 
 Jack Fraser in surprise. "Surely when you get 
 the man who had a guilty knowledge of the where- 
 abouts of that necklace, you will have caught the 
 murderer of James Doyle!" 
 
 "Not if he can present an alibi, which you are
 
 < 'MORE THAN ONE" 87 
 
 unable to shake, for that minute of semidarkness 
 during which the shot was fired ! ' ' Crane retorted, 
 rumpling his curly brown hair. "Don't you see, 
 gentlemen, that you've got merely the vaguest 
 sort of circumstantial evidence as to why the mur- 
 der was committed, but not even an idea of the 
 possible identity of the murderer? I'm not out 
 here to discover who stole that necklace or hid it 
 in that lantern; I'm here to find out who killed 
 Jim Doyle!" 
 
 His crisp, clear-cut tones broke slightly as he 
 mentioned the name of his late associate, but his 
 keen gray eyes flashed, and he set his jaw in no 
 uncertain lines. The dominating force of the 
 man's personality, together with his peculiar in- 
 sight and power of deduction, which had gained 
 him his reputation, began to be manifest even to 
 the local authorities, and the sheriff exclaimed: 
 * ' I never thought of that ! There might have been 
 more than one of them in the plot!" 
 
 "Doctor" Crane turned to the coroner "the 
 most superficial examination of the wound should 
 have shown the general direction from which the 
 shot came." 
 
 "It did," Doctor Fellowes responded. "I told 
 you that I wouldn't commit myself before the 
 autopsy, but I have already given you my unoffi-
 
 88 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 cial opinion, as I had previously given it to Mr. 
 Estridge and the sheriff, that the shot was fired 
 from a distance of twenty to forty feet, straight 
 in front of Doyle. Of course it might have come 
 from a little to the left or right, which would de- 
 pend on how he was standing. Only the autopsy 
 will show the depth of penetration and the course 
 of the bullet whether it was slightly upward or 
 downward but it undoubtedly passed through 
 the open window before which he stood.'* 
 
 11 That's good enough as a working basis." 
 Crane's glance darted to the attorney. ''Mr. 
 Estridge, what architect designed this club 1 ?" 
 
 The unexpected question made the others eye 
 each other in surprise, but, as though following 
 the detective's train of thought, Estridge smiled 
 as he replied: "Peter van Horn, of Hopping & 
 van Horn, in the city. However, a copy of the 
 plans of the club, drawn to scale, are filed in the 
 secretary's office here, and I am sure that the rest 
 of the house committee will be glad to place them 
 at your disposal at any time." 
 
 "Thanks. Then suppose we join those of your 
 members who are still being detained?" Crane 
 suggested. "I noticed several ladies present, and, 
 as Mr. Sowerby remarked before, it is nearly 
 morning. "
 
 1 ' MORE THAN ONE" 89 
 
 The cold light of dawn was indeed faintly 
 streaking the east when they reentered the hall 
 to find the little groups much as they had left 
 them, save that Alice Dare had fallen asleep on 
 the bench that had been brought from the con- 
 servatory, Mrs. de Forest was nodding in her 
 chair, and Mrs. Fraser pacing nervously back 
 and forth. Of the women, only Mrs. Carter main- 
 tained her attitude of impassive, yet alert, calm. 
 Crane, after discovering that the majority of the 
 members and guests who had been detained were 
 not in line with the window, dismissed them sum- 
 marily. The sheriff turned to Mrs. Carter. 
 
 "Mrs. Carter, this is Mr. Crane, a detective, 
 who has come out from town to look into the death 
 of Mr. Grant." 
 
 Mrs. Carter bowed. "Mr. Crane's reputation 
 has preceded him, ' ' she said demurely. ' * We did 
 not know until to-night, however, that the poor 
 man, whom we had all grown to like and trust as 
 the new house secretary, was a detective also." 
 
 "You have no idea why he wag here, Mrs. 
 Carter?" asked Crane. 
 
 Her eyes widened. "I cannot imagine, but I 
 suppose the house committee had some excellent 
 reason. I have scarcely given that a thought. 
 His death and the manner of it seem all a part of
 
 90 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 some horrible dream, and yet I stood right there ! ' ' 
 
 "Where!" 
 
 "At the foot of the staircase. I was coming 
 down from the ladies' rest room on the second 
 floor, where I had gone to remain until the singing 
 was over." She paused. "I had been out on the 
 veranda and had seen and spoken to poor Mr. 
 Grant or whatever his name was only a few 
 minutes before. Oh, it is all too terrible to 
 realize ! ' ' 
 
 "You were out on the veranda!" the detective 
 repeated. 
 
 "Yes; I was waiting for Mr. Bowles to bring 
 my cloak. I have not been well lately, and so much 
 dancing had made me dizzy. I thought a breath 
 of fresh air would do me good, but it was too cold 
 out there, and I decided to go upstairs and rest 
 until supper. I did go up and lie down during the 
 final dance, but when the lights were turned out 
 and the orchestra commenced the first bars of 
 'Auld Lang Syne,' I started down to join in the 
 singing with the rest. I could see nothing but 
 shadowy groups of people standing about and just 
 the faintest glow from the lanterns on the ver- 
 anda, and I had to feel my way to keep from fall- 
 ing. I had just reached the foot of the stairs 
 when the sound of the shot came ! ' '
 
 "MORE THAN ONE" 91 
 
 She paused again with a shudder, but the de- 
 tective inexorably urged her on. 
 
 "What did you see then, Mrs. Carter? What 
 did you hear? What were your impressions?" 
 
 "I don't know!" She passed a hand across 
 her eyes. "It was all confused, like some hideous 
 phase of delirium! I remember a dreadful, 
 crumpling sound as of something heavy and soft, 
 falling some woman screamed it may have been 
 I, but I was unconscious of it. I have a vague 
 recollection of some man's voice calling for the 
 lights to be- turned on, and then they flashed sud- 
 denly in my eyes, and everybody rushed forward, 
 but I couldn't move; I felt as though I had turned 
 to stone! I don't know how long I stood there 
 before Mr. Bowles came and told me that poor 
 Mr. Grant had been shot that he was dead! 
 Then I collapsed, my limbs seemed to give way 
 beneath me, and I sat down on the stairs. It was 
 only gradually that I became aware that people 
 were fainting and hysterical all about me. I was 
 simply stunned. Really, that is all that I can tell 
 you, Mr. Crane." 
 
 In spite of the repression, which it was evident 
 that she had placed upon herself, her face ap- 
 peared all at once drawn and haggard, and Ren- 
 wick Crane, with a softening of his manner, said,
 
 92 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 "Well, with the permission of the sheriff and the 
 coroner, we won't trouble you any further, Mrs. 
 Carter. You live near here?" 
 
 "Yes, scarcely a mile away, at the Horton Cot- 
 tage. I shall be glad to receive you there at any 
 time and give you any assistance in my power, but 
 I really know nothing more than I have told you." 
 She hesitated before she added : l * But is Mr. 
 Bowles going to take me home? He brought me 
 to the dance last night in his car." 
 
 The eyes of the others turned involuntarily to 
 the fireplace, before which Bowles stood with 
 Ralph Fraser and Gerald Landon, and an added 
 tension made itself manifest in the air. As though 
 conscious of it himself, the broker unconsciously 
 squared his shoulders as he advanced, and, 
 although he smiled with an assumption of ease, 
 his eyes shifted slightly before he met the detec- 
 tive's gaze. 
 
 "By Jove, I believe Estridge, Landon, and my- 
 self are the only ones left who haven't given an 
 account of ourselves yet for those fateful moments 
 when the lights were out!" he exclaimed with a 
 laugh. "Estridge, of course, is out of it." 
 
 "I should think he was !" said Sowerby, glaring. 
 "I've known Sam Estridge all my life, and, more-
 
 "MORE THAN ONE" 93 
 
 over, lie was in the card room watching a bridge 
 game when the shot was fired. I would have been 
 out on the veranda myself as quick as he was if it 
 hadn't been for my gout and the fact that some 
 fool woman got in my way ! ' ' 
 
 "And I," said Bowles, "can attest to Mr. Lan- 
 don's presence here in the main hall. Doubtless a 
 score of others can give the same testimony.*' 
 Bowies' smile had become less strained. "I saw 
 him, but whether he saw me or not I don't know. 
 I was standing alone in the door leading to the 
 smaller supper room that one over there, to the 
 right of -the steward's desk. Mrs. Carter had 
 promised me the final dance before the singing, 
 and, when at the last moment she decided that 
 she must go upstairs and rest until supper, I told 
 her that I would be waiting for her at the foot 
 of the stairs after the singing. She was to go 
 in to supper with me. During the final dance I 
 went into the smaller supper room to see that 
 our table had been arranged, and, when the jazz 
 music abruptly ceased and the string orchestra 
 started up the introduction to 'Auld Lang Syne,' 
 I came to the door to add my voice to the general 
 chorus. It was then that I saw Mr. Landon stand- 
 ing in the conservatory door opposite. I remained
 
 94 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 where I was until the sound of the shot came. 
 Then I rushed out upon the veranda with the 
 rest." 
 
 There was a slight pause, and then, as it was 
 broken by neither the sheriff nor the coroner, 
 Renwick Crane asked : ' ' You live here in Brook- 
 lands, Mr. Bowles?" 
 
 "No, I merely run out occasionally and put up 
 here at the club if there is room; if not, at the 
 Brooklands Inn. I am a broker with offices in 
 Wall Street and a bachelor apartment in town at 
 the Margrave. I shall hold myself unreservedly at 
 your service and that of the authorities here." 
 He paused and added with his old, easy manner : 
 "As a member of this club, I feel as deeply as 
 any of the rest can the fact that this poor fellow 
 came to his death in the performance of his duty, 
 even though I was not in the confidence of the 
 house committee and I did not dream that he was 
 other than he appeared." 
 
 "Well," the sheriff remarked after a glance at 
 the coroner who nodded, "I guess, if Mr. Crane 
 don't want to ask you any more questions just 
 now, we won't keep you longer from taking Mrs. 
 Carter home. Did you notice Mr. Bowles, Mr. 
 Landon!" 
 
 "No, I was watching the dancers, but I'm
 
 "MORE THAN ONE" 95 
 
 mighty glad he saw me, for I, too, was alone," 
 the young man responded frankly. "I ran out 
 on the veranda with the rest when Grant was shot, 
 and Mr. Estridge, who had taken charge, asked 
 me to call Mr. Sowerby. I am employed in town 
 in the bank of which Mr. Sowerby is president. I 
 am not a member of this club, but a guest of Mr. 
 and Mrs. Fraser, with whom I am staying." 
 
 "Since every one now present has accounted 
 for himself or has been accounted for, may I sug- 
 gest that all may be permitted to leave?" Samuel 
 Estridge remarked. "Mr. Crane will be accom- 
 modated here at the club, of course, and it may be 
 that you gentlemen would like to question the 
 stewards and other attendants." 
 
 He turned to the sheriff and coroner, and, after 
 a brief consultation between them, the latter an- 
 nounced: "Mr. Estridge is right. All of you are 
 well known to me, and most of you are my pa- 
 tients; I think I can depend upon your presence 
 at the inquest. Sheriff Coburn and I represent 
 the county authorities, and Mr. Crane is working 
 with us. I know you'll give him all the assistance 
 you can, and in the meantime we won't detain 
 you any longer." 
 
 During the bustle of departure which ensued, 
 Crane observed that Mrs. de Forest made an
 
 96 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 almost imperceptible gesture toward him and th'en 
 walked into the ladies' cloak room, imperiously 
 waving back her niece. Mrs. Fraser was already 
 wrapped in her cloak, and Bowles was solicitously 
 assisting Mrs. Carter with hers in the foyer. The 
 detective, as unobtrusively as possible, managed 
 to slip away. He followed the elderly woman and 
 found her alone. 
 
 "Shut the door!" she commanded without pre- 
 amble, and, when he had complied, she faced him 
 before the long mirror. "Young man, the sheriff 
 is a good detective of chicken thieves, and as a 
 coroner, Doctor Fellowes may be efficient in ordi- 
 nary cases, but I've heard of you and some of the 
 things which you have accomplished, and I'm 
 going to trust you." 
 
 "Thank you, Mrs. de Forest," he responded 
 with immense respect. "Do you mean that you 
 heard or saw something which you have not men- 
 tioned? Have you a possible theory as to who 
 shot my former associate?" 
 
 "I've lived too long to form theories about 
 anything, and you needn't thank me until you 
 learn how trivial a supposition I have to suggest 
 to you!" she retorted. "I caught only a glimpse 
 of the body on the veranda. The sound of the 
 shooting had stunned me for a moment, and I
 
 "MORE THAN ONE" 97 
 
 was slow in rising from my chair; I had scarcely 
 reached the door when Mr. Estridge ordered 
 everybody back, and I was not sorry. I am not 
 squeamish ordinarily, but neither have I any 
 hysterically morbid tendencies, and I had no desire 
 to look upon the result of a tragedy for which I 
 felt indirectly responsible. It was on my behalf 
 that your unfortunate colleague was engaged to 
 come here." 
 
 She paused, and the detective, who had not 
 shifted his gaze from her face, seized quickly upon 
 one salient phrase which she had used. 
 
 "You say 'the sound of the shooting,' Mrs. de 
 Forest," he repeated. "I understood that only 
 one shot was fired." 
 
 Mrs. de Forest's stately shoulders rose in a 
 slight shrug. 
 
 "So they tell me," she replied. "As I have 
 just informed you, I did not catch more than a 
 glimpse of poor Mr. Grant 's body, but I gathered 
 from the gruesome details imparted to me that 
 there was but one wound. Nevertheless, although 
 I am getting on in years, Mr. Crane, my senses 
 are, I think, still unimpaired, and I fancied I 
 could almost have sworn that two distinct, but 
 practically simultaneous, detonations rang through 
 the rotunda. It may have been merely the echo,
 
 98 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 of course, the effect of the acoustics, or just an old 
 woman's notion. I offer it to you for what it may 
 be worth. ' ' 
 
 "And I accept it most gratefully," Renwick 
 Crane assured her in a very sober tone. "I shall 
 not betray your confidence, but I will give the pos- 
 sibility you have suggested my fullest attention. 
 It may be that more than one person was con- 
 cerned in the theft of your necklace, and more 
 than one person in the murder of Jim Doyle ! ' '
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE MAN IN THE BUSHES 
 
 "1 71 THEN 'Hare's star detective finally escorted 
 * * Mrs. de Forest back to the entrance hall 
 they found it occupied solely by the latter 's niece. 
 Alice Dare rose sleepily at their approach. 
 
 1 'Are you ready to go home now, auntie?" she 
 asked in the dazed accents of a child suddenly 
 awakened. "The car's been waiting for ever so 
 long. ' ' 
 
 "Then it can wait a few minutes longer!" the 
 elderly lady retorted tartly. "Alice, this is Mr. 
 Crane. He has come out to investigate the death 
 of that other detective. My niece, Alice Dare." 
 
 The sleepy look vanished all at once from the 
 girl's eyes. In its place there came a swift gleam 
 of apprehension, but she responded to the intro- 
 duction and added hesitatingly: "It it was ter- 
 rible, of course, Mr. Crane! I do hope you will 
 be able to find out who did it. How could any 
 one " 
 
 09
 
 100 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 * ' Alice ! ' ' her aunt interrupted her. ' * I managed 
 to keep my eyes on you most of the evening, but I 
 couldn't locate you every minute in the crowd 
 that was here. Where were you standing when 
 the lights were lowered for the singing at mid- 
 night?" 
 
 * ' Auntie ! ' ' Horrified incredulity sharpened the 
 girl's tones. "Surely you and and Mr. Crane 
 don't think that I saw anything ! Wouldn't I have 
 told ? I had the last dance with Mr. Jack Fraser, 
 and when the clock struck twelve and the music 
 stopped so abruptly, we halted over there, just 
 between the doors of the billiard room and the 
 entrance of the conservatory. We stood there 
 together, my hand still tucked in his arm, and 
 sang with the rest until until that awful shot 
 came. Mrs. Jack and Mr. Ralph Fraser were just 
 beside us." 
 
 "Let me see." Ren wick Crane gazed specu- 
 latively across the big, almost circular hall. "If 
 you stood near the door of the billiard room, Miss 
 Dare, only the door of the secretary's office and 
 the hall leading to the rear separated you from 
 the main staircase. In that case, you, your part- 
 ner, and the other couple were not at an acute 
 angle from the window there, where the dragon 
 lantern hung. Although you were not in a direct
 
 THE MAN IN THE BUSHES 101 
 
 line with it, of course, had you any idea, any im- 
 pression of the direction from which the shot was 
 fired?" 
 
 "Why, no!" she said. "I didn't even know it- 
 was a shot until the lights went up and everybody 
 rushed out on the veranda! I was carried along 
 with the crowd, but I didn't realize what had 
 happened. If any impression came to me at all it 
 was that the noise was outside the back-firing of 
 one of the cars or a bursting tire. Couldn't the 
 shot have come from out there, somewhere? It 
 seemed to sort of echo." 
 
 Mrs. de Forest darted a quick glance at the 
 detective, but his face remained impassive. 
 
 "Anything is possible at this stage of the in- 
 vestigation, Miss Dare," he responded. Then, 
 turning to the older woman, he added : "I will not 
 detain you ladies any longer. May I escort you to 
 your car? You must both be very tired, and I 
 have much to do in the next few hours." 
 
 When he reentered the deserted hall, Crane 
 paused for a time on the threshold. Meditatively 
 he surveyed the main staircase directly opposite, 
 the two small offices one open, one so signifi- 
 cantly closed which flanked it, and the various 
 doors and alcove entrances to other rooms of the 
 club.
 
 102 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 Drawing an envelope and pencil from his pocket, 
 he made a rapid sketch, placing crosses and ini- 
 tials here and there. With a satisfied nod he 
 returned them to his pocket just as the coroner 
 appeared in the hall leading to the rear. 
 
 "I thought you had gone, doctor," he remarked. 
 "I've just got rid of the last of the club members 
 who were here when I arrived. I presume you 
 have depositions from those who had already 
 left?" 
 
 ' ' The sheriff and I got what we could from them, 
 but it wasn't much mostly hysteria on the part 
 of the women and a muddle of conflicting and un- 
 wanted opinions on the part of the men," Doctor 
 Fellowes replied. "With the exception of a Mr. 
 and Mrs. Dorrance and Mrs. Sowerby, those you 
 met were the only ones, as far as we have been 
 able to discover, Mr. Crane, who seemed capable 
 of giving us any assistance in our investigation. 
 The only members or guests, I mean. Murdook, 
 the steward, was behind his desk there to the 
 left of the staircase. I've just come from having 
 a little talk with him." 
 
 "I should like to interview him myself if it is 
 not too late," remarked Crane. "Those three 
 members of the house committee have gone home, 
 I suppose!"
 
 THE MAN IN THE BUSHES 103 
 
 Doctor Fellowes chuckled. "Mr. Fraser took 
 his wife home, and his brother accompanied him, 
 but old President Sowerby wouldn't budge a foot 
 until they telephoned from his house that his wife 
 was in hysterics. He went then, all right, but 
 you could hear him swearing all down the 
 drive. His voice covered the noise of his car. 
 He's afraid he'll miss something, or Lawyer 
 Estridge will get in ahead of him on the investi- 
 gation. ' ' 
 
 "Is Mr. Estridge still here?" 
 
 "Yes. He is waiting in the billiard room for 
 a word with you when you have finished inter- 
 viewing the witnesses. Murdock will stay up until 
 Mr. Bowles returns. He'll show you to your room 
 and see that you are comfortable. He's an odd 
 character that steward," the coroner added re- 
 flectively. "I've known him around here ever 
 since the club was built, and I can't make him 
 out. Anybody can see that he's taking what hap- 
 pened last night mighty hard, and yet, for all 
 that, he doesn't forget a detail of his duties. He 
 appears to be half man and half machine. ' ' 
 
 "Oh, well, if he is going to tuck me in to-night 
 or rather, this morning I won't bother to talk 
 to him now. I think I'll see what Mr. Estridge 
 wants with me and then turn in for an hour.
 
 104 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 I suppose that Murdock is not in solitary 
 charge I ' ' 
 
 Doctor Fellowes responded to the implied ques- 
 tion with simple directness. 
 
 "Sheriff Coburn is on the job, and he- has an 
 eye on him as well as on all the rest within doors. 
 I think you must have seen the constable on the 
 porch out there just now. We've no more occa- 
 sion to suspect Murdock than any one else in the 
 building. I'm bound to tell you, Mr. Crane, that 
 we've searched the club from top to bottom, 
 and we can't afford to take chances on anybody 
 leaving it now, who either belongs here or might 
 have sneaked in past the guards in the grounds. 
 "Well, I'll get on home and to bed for an hour 
 or two before the autopsy." 
 
 "Before you do perform it, doctor, I wish you'd 
 phone to me up here at the club. I want to come 
 down and have a look at the body as it was when 
 you first saw it," Crane said earnestly. "I'm not 
 asking this for sentimental reasons alone, though 
 I liked Jim, and we'd w r orked on many a case to- 
 gether, but because it may help me in my own 
 investigation. We are not rivals, you know, sir, 
 but partners you and the sheriff and I and it 
 is not my chief's wish or mine to have me appear
 
 THE MAN IN THE BUSHES 105 
 
 in the case at all. The only thing we are after 
 is to find out who murdered Jim Doyle and have 
 the guilty party get what's coming to him or to 
 them." 
 
 The coroner held out his hand. "I'm sure of 
 that, Mr. Crane, and I'll be glad to phone to you 
 in time. If you and your chief want to avenge the 
 death of one of your own men, Sheriff Coburn and 
 I even more than the members of this club be- 
 cause we're natives here want to find out the 
 truth and clear the name of the village as well 
 as the club of Broadlawns. I guess we can work 
 together, all right! Good night, or rather, good 
 morning !" 
 
 The genial doctor departed, and Crane turned 
 thoughtfully toward the billiard room. Within, 
 stretched out upon one of the wide leather seats, 
 which divided the wall space with the cue racks, 
 he found Samuel Estridge. The lawyer's eyes 
 were closed and his hands were peacefully relaxed 
 at his sides. 
 
 Thinking that the other was asleep, the detec- 
 tive was about to retreat, but Estridge opened his 
 eyes and arose. ' ' Have you finished with the wit- 
 nesses, Crane?" he asked. "I don't want to urge 
 you to tell me anything that you would prefer to
 
 106 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 keep to yourself at this time. I haven't waited 
 here to bother you with my half-baked theories, 
 but to offer you any possible assistance that I can. 
 As the secretary of the club and one of its old 
 members, I may be able to help you with the iden- 
 tity and the position of the members. Murdock, 
 the steward, can furnish you with a list of the 
 entire club membership, and the coroner, being 
 the general medical practitioner of the neighbor- 
 hood, could probably tell you a great deal about 
 their idiosyncrasies, but " 
 
 He paused suggestively, and Crane smiled and 
 finished for him. "But he represents the local 
 authorities, at least until the inquest. I do not 
 think he could tell me anything, Mr. Estridge, 
 that would be of material assistance to me at this 
 stage of my investigation, but you can help me a 
 lot if you will. Just who, for instance, are the 
 Erasers?" 
 
 "Thoroughly good people in every way," re- 
 plied the attorney emphatically. "I'd vouch for 
 them personally any time. Jack Eraser is man- 
 ager of the Mexamer Oil Company's New York 
 branch, and his wife is a fine little woman. They 
 have lived out here for six or seven years." 
 
 "And Mr. Jack Eraser's brother?" pursued 
 Crane.
 
 THE MAN IN THE BUSHES 107 
 
 "He's something of a stranger here, the guest 
 of the Jack Erasers. Ralph Eraser comes from 
 Texas, and President Sowerby likes him; he's 
 had some dealings with him at the bank. He 
 seems to be all right." Estridge paused suddenly 
 and then added : ' * He might be of some technical 
 assistance to you, for I understand that he is quite 
 an amateur enthusiast about weapons of all kinds, 
 especially firearms." 
 
 "I may call upon him. What about the young 
 girl the niece of Mrs. de Forest she is an heir- 
 ess, isn't she?" asked the detective perfunctorily. 
 
 Estridge smiled in his turn. 
 
 "On the contrary, the child is an orphan with- 
 out a penny of her own, but, according to present 
 indications, she will not be dependent upon her 
 aunt for long. That good-looking Landon boy, 
 who is a house guest of the Erasers, has a respon- 
 sible position in Sowerby 's bank and but I'm 
 talking like a gossipy, romantic old maid!" He 
 shrugged good-naturedly. "Anybody else I can 
 tip you off about?" 
 
 "I haven't interviewed Murdock yet, but the 
 coroner says he is an odd sort of character," 
 Crane remarked. 
 
 The attorney eyed him keenly for a minute. 
 "We've always found Murdock straight enough,"
 
 108 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 he said at last. "He's a taciturn person, but 
 there has never been any criticism as to the way 
 he performed his duties. Beyond that I do not 
 believe that we've thought much about him, one 
 way or another." 
 
 "I see," Crane replied. "Do the other people 
 whom I interviewed to-night all belong to the 
 club! The red-haired lady, Mrs. Carter, for one 
 instance ? ' ' 
 
 "Yes. She came here two or three years ago 
 from the South and bought the Horton cottage." 
 Once more Estridge's gaze narrowed. "As I told 
 you, I do not want to force your confidence, Crane, 
 but why do you ask about these people in par- 
 ticular?" 
 
 "I am going to take you into my confidence, 
 Mr. Estridge." The detective spoke frankly. 
 "Preposterous as it may appear to mention any 
 of them in connection with the case, I have discov- 
 ered so far in my investigation six people, and 
 only six, who, from their positions alone, could 
 have fired through that window before which the 
 dragon lantern hung. It is possible, of course, 
 that some one may have crouched in the rear hall 
 beside the main staircase and after shooting have 
 retreated in the direction of the kitchen and pan-
 
 THE MAN IN THE BUSHES 109 
 
 tries, but we must take up the more obvious sup- 
 positions first. Murdock was behind his desk, and 
 Mrs. Carter on the staircase." 
 
 The attorney frowned. "Except in your ordi- 
 nary routine I think Mrs. Carter may safely be 
 eliminated, but you spoke of six persons. Who 
 were the other four?" 
 
 ' * The two Fraser brothers and Mrs. Jack Fraser 
 with little Miss Dare stood here, near the door 
 of the billiard room. This room, as you know, is 
 separated by the secretary's locked door and the 
 narrow rear hall from the main staircase. These 
 are the only people I have as yet found who were 
 within a radius of that window. ' ' 
 
 Samuel Estridge paced thoughtfully across the 
 room. When he turned the frown had disappeared, 
 and his face resumed its wonted impassivity, as 
 though a mask had fallen over it, obliterating all 
 expression. 
 
 "I am glad that we are speaking confidentially, 
 Mr. Crane, for you can realize that I am in rather 
 a delicate position as one of the house committee," 
 he remarked smoothly. "As I told you I have no 
 possible theory to offer, but may I voice a sugges- 
 tion? Is there a chance that the shot which killed 
 Doyle might have been intended for another? I
 
 110 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 mean, could he have been mistaken in the shadows 
 outside the window for some one else!" 
 
 The detective shook his head. * * The bullet which 
 killed Jim Doyle was intended for him alone," he 
 responded decidedly. ' ' It is a pity that you your- 
 self were not nearer than the cardroom at that 
 moment, Mr. Estridge. I should like to have had 
 your opinion of the sound of that shot!" 
 
 "There were many other people in the rotunda 
 at the time," Estridge remarked. "It appears 
 almost a miracle that the bullet should have 
 threaded its way among them to the window, but 
 I presume that, when the dancing stopped, they 
 insensibly divided into little groups and backed 
 against the wall, leaving the center of the hall 
 clear. You haven't interviewed Mr. and Mrs. 
 Philip Dorrance, or Mrs. Rutherford Sowerby. 
 They were permitted to depart before your 
 arrival. But, I believe, they were also in the 
 rotunda when the lights were lowered for the sing- 
 ing. Then there is another guest of the club, 
 Ogden Bowles but I forgot. He was standing in 
 the door of the smaller supper room, out of range, 
 wasn't he?" 
 
 There was a wearied note in the attorney's 
 tones, but it was now Crane's turn to regard the
 
 THE MAN IN THE BUSHES 111 
 
 other sharply. In court Estridge had never been 
 known to let the most minor and irrelevant detail 
 of a case slip his alert mind. What the detective 
 read in his countenance, however, was merely a 
 look of blank fatigue, and he decided that there 
 was nothing further to be gained by prolonging 
 the interview. 
 
 "I'll see the rest of them later, and, in the mean- 
 time, I won't detain you now, Mr. Estridge. I've 
 got to have a talk with Murdock and then get an 
 hour's sleep before I tackle the job again." 
 
 "I have a small cottage near here where I keep 
 bachelor 's hall. Any one can direct you to it. If 
 you care to come to me in strict confidence, as you 
 have just now, I shall be glad to give you the 
 assistance of any inform a tioii which may occur 
 to me." The attorney held out his hand. "Until 
 I see you again, Mr. Crane." 
 
 The village constable had long since ceased his 
 vigil when the two emerged upon the veranda, and 
 the dragon lantern, in common with all the others, 
 had vanished. Before the window where it had 
 hung, instead of the sinister crimson stain, there 
 now appeared a freshly scrubbed space upon the 
 floor, which glistened in a ray of the morning sun, 
 and the steward arose from his knees at their
 
 112 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 approach. He seemed as little disconcerted, as 
 though the brush and pail were his usual imple- 
 ments of employment, but he addressed himself 
 apologetically to the attorney. 
 
 "None of the servants would touch this, sir, 
 and, after taking down the lanterns, I thought 
 best " 
 
 "You took down the lanterns?" Estridge asked. 
 
 "Just now, sir.'* The deprecation deepened 
 in his tone. "It should have been done before, but 
 a person from the village told me he had orders 
 that nothing was to be disturbed, indoors or 
 out." 
 
 "Ah, quite right; that was the constable, no 
 doubt." Estridge turned to Crane and, indicating 
 the steward, announced: "This is Murdock. He 
 will show you to your room and answer any ques- 
 tions you may choose to put to him." 
 
 Murdock bowed slightly. "Mr. Crane's room 
 is ready for him, sir. The coroner told me to 
 have it prepared. ' ' He seemed scarcely to glance 
 at the detective, but addressed himself once more 
 to the attorney. "Here is your car being brought 
 around now, sir. Mr. Bowles returned a few mo- 
 ments ago and retired at once, but he instructed 
 me to awaken him if he could be of any service to 
 you."
 
 THE MAN IN THE BUSHES 113 
 
 "He cannot. I am going home and follow his 
 example, Murdook. So long, Mr. Crane, and good 
 luck." Estridge descended the steps and was 
 climbing into his car when a subdued hubbub arose 
 from around the east corner of the veranda, and 
 a man appeared, his bulldog features alive with 
 excitement. 
 
 "Mr. Estridge! Stop a minute, sir! There's 
 been more dirty work here last night ! One of our 
 boys, that was stationed on the lawn on that side 
 of the house, is lying in a clump of bushes with a 
 gash on the back of his head that you could put 
 your two fingers in!" 
 
 Estridge started back as Crane descended the 
 steps. The detective explained, a slight tremble 
 for once manifest in his level tones, "It is one of 
 the special men I had sent out from the city for 
 last night. He isn't dead, Saunders?" 
 
 "No, but he's dead to the world!" Saunders 
 responded. "He's laid out with one of the nasti- 
 est swipes I ever saw, and I'm blessed if I know 
 how any one could have got to him and hit him 
 hard enough with this to lay his head open ! ' ' 
 
 As he spoke he held out in the palm of his hand 
 something which glittered in the sun, and the 
 attorney motioned to Crane to take it. The latter 
 complied, and, after an instant's glance at it, he
 
 114 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 and Estridge gazed at each other in wordless 
 questioning. 
 
 The object which the detective held was a tiny 
 pistol almost as small as a toy, but upon its highly- 
 polished barrel appeared a dark blotch ; the second 
 sinister indication they were to behold of that 
 night's work.
 
 CHAPTER VHI 
 
 IN THE BOXWOOD BUSHES 
 
 and call the sheriff, Murdock!" Estridge 
 turned with a start to where the steward 
 stood gaping at them from the veranda. Then to 
 Saunders he added: "Show Mr. Crane and my- 
 self where he is. Which one of the boys is it? 
 Who found him?" 
 
 Saunders stared at the mention of the private 
 detective's name. Rousing himself he replied to 
 the last question first. 
 
 "I did, sir. The head cook was having us in 
 the kitchen in relays for some hot coffee, and I 
 went looking for Pete Lindsay that's who it is. 
 He was on the stand for you in the Lockwood case. 
 I knew about where he'd been stationed last night, 
 and I called, but got no answer, and finally I see 
 the two feet of him sticking out from underneath 
 these bushes." 
 
 While he talked Saunders had led them around 
 
 115
 
 116 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 the corner of the club house to a clump of ancient 
 boxwood. Here, on the edge of the driveway, a 
 short, stocky figure lay motionless. The man's 
 broad, freckled face was upturned in the sunlight, 
 and his arms were extended helplessly above his 
 head. 
 
 "I dragged him out by the feet, just after your 
 car passed around to the front, Mr. Estridge," 
 explained Saunders. "The little toy pistol was 
 winking up at me from the grass, and I picked it 
 up, and then, as I turn Pete over and see that he 
 was still breathing, I didn't stop to call for any- 
 body, but I ran to catch you before you should 
 beat it away." 
 
 "He was lying squarely on his back in the 
 bushes'?" Crane spoke for the first time. 
 
 "No, on his side. His feet was kind of twisted 
 one over the other." Saunders glanced again at 
 the tiny weapon in the detective's grasp. "It 
 must have taken a guy with an arm like a pile 
 driver to crown him and lay him out cold with 
 that toy thing, let alone to sneak up on him from 
 behind through those thick bushes." 
 
 "That is just what I was thinking," Crane re- 
 marked. Thrusting the pistol into his hip pocket, 
 he suddenly dived into the mass of shrubbery, just 
 as Sheriff Coburn appeared on the run, the
 
 IN THE BOXWOOD BUSHES 117 
 
 anxious-eyed Murdock trotting discreetly in the 
 rear. Between them they carried the unconscious 
 man into the clubhouse and placed him on the 
 steward's bed. Estridge went to the private tele- 
 phone booth in the locker room to summon Doctor 
 Fellowes. 
 
 In the excitement none of them had observed 
 the fact that the detective had not accompanied 
 them within doors. As the attorney emerged from 
 the booth he found Crane awaiting him. 
 
 "What do you think of this latest development, 
 Mr. Estridge?" the latter asked. 
 
 "Frankly I am almost past the stage of coherent 
 thought!" Estridge responded. "I have handled 
 many a bizarre case in court in my time, but this 
 outranks them all! Of course that terrific blow 
 on Lindsay's head could never have been caused 
 by the tiny weapon which Saunders found, no 
 matter what strength lay behind it that is a fore- 
 gone conclusion." 
 
 "Not if the pistol were used to strike with, 
 perhaps, but suppose it had been thrown?" 
 
 "What!" 
 
 "A missile as light and small as that, if flung 
 from a distance and let us say a height of one 
 story from the ground, might have caused such a 
 wound, provided that Lindsay's back was turned
 
 118 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 to the house and his head uncovered." Then, as 
 the attorney still stared, Crane continued: "If 
 he were lighting his pipe, contrary to orders, and 
 had taken off his cap to shield the flame of the 
 match that pistol thrown at random from one of 
 the upper windows might well have found an 
 unintentional mark. ' ' 
 
 "Great heavens!" Estridge exclaimed. "But 
 who was upstairs?" 
 
 "I should very much like to know who was on 
 the second floor when the lights were lowered at 
 midnight, or who might have slipped past Mrs. 
 Carter on the stairs, immediately after the shot 
 was fired." There was a note of added serious- 
 ness in the detective 's tones. "I found these in 
 the bushes just now. They must have dropped 
 from Lindsay's hands as he fell." From 
 his coat pocket he drew a crumpled cap, sodden 
 with dew, a pipe with a small quantity of unlighted 
 tobacco still adhering to the bottom of the bowl, 
 and a thin packet of matches. 
 
 "But could any one have passed Mrs. Carter 
 on the stairs without her knowledge?" Estridge 
 asked. "On the other hand, if some one were 
 already on the second floor when the lights were 
 lowered, how could they have shot Doyle below on 
 the veranda?"
 
 IN THE BOXWOOD BUSHES 119 
 
 "Mrs. Carter has stated that the sound of the 
 shooting dazed and numbed her faculties. In such 
 a condition some one might have slipped past in 
 either direction, for the staircase is wide, remem- 
 ber," Crane replied. "If any one were hiding 
 upstairs, awaiting that moment, they could have 
 crept down a few steps, fired, and then retreating, 
 thrown the pistol from an upper window. If the 
 autopsy shows that the bullet took a sharply 
 downward course and was of a caliber to fit this 
 tiny weapon the conclusion is inevitable." 
 
 He produced the pistol once more, and Estridge 
 exclaimed impatiently: 
 
 "We're getting nowhere, man! Nothing but a 
 series of suppositions. An examination of this 
 pistol should show whether a shot had been fired 
 from it, and how recently. Then, when the owner 
 of it is discovered, or at least the identity of the 
 person in whose possession it was last seen, the 
 matter will be fairly obvious. Only one bullet was 
 fired at Doyle." 
 
 The detective smiled slightly. "You heard it 
 merely as a muffled report, Mr. Estridge; that is 
 a pity. One witness has already voiced the opin- 
 ion that two distinct detonations, so close together 
 as to be almost simultaneous, rang through the 
 rotunda, and that witness was unconsciously cor-
 
 120 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 roborated by another who said that the shot 
 seemed to 'echo.' One cartridge only has been 
 fired within the last few hours from this pistol, 
 but was it the bullet which killed Doyle? Here 
 is Doctor Fellowes in his car. While he attends to 
 your man, Lindsay, I think I will just have a look 
 about the second floor." 
 
 The doctor found the second victim of the night 
 suffering from a bad scalp wound, but already 
 conscious. 
 
 "What hit me?" the latter repeated faintly over 
 and over. "I didn't see nothin', nor hear a step. 
 All of a sudden somethin' fetched me a crack, and 
 what little light there was went out for fair ! ' ' 
 
 "You are sure you didn't hear anything?" 
 Samuel Estridge insisted, as Doctor Fellowes 
 deftly dressed the wound. "I don't mean a step 
 behind you, when you turned to light your pipe, 
 contrary to orders, Lindsay, but a sound of any 
 sort, in or near the clubhouse, other than the music 
 and singing." 
 
 The man made a sheepish grimace of admission. 
 
 "I don't know how you found out about my 
 pipe, Mr. Estridge, but my throat was parched 
 for a smoke. I heard the song stop with a bang 
 and a lot of women hollerin', but they'd been 
 makin' a racket all the evenin', and you couldn't
 
 IN THE BOXWOOD BUSHES 121 
 
 tell whether they was laughin' or cryin'. I'd had 
 my orders not to interfere, and I thought it was 
 all part of the fun. I turned my back to light up 
 for just a minute when somethin' crowned me." 
 
 * ' You heard no other sound ? ' ' Estridge 's tones 
 had taken on a deeper note. "Just an instant 
 before you were struck, I mean. Think, Lindsay ! ' ' 
 
 Lindsay contracted that part of his brow which 
 was visible from beneath the bandage in a painful 
 effort at concentration. "Seems to me there was 
 a kind of a scraping noise, but I supposed it was 
 the branches of trees rubbin' together. I ain't 
 used to country sounds, and I didn't think nothin' 
 of it." 
 
 In the meantime the detective had hastened up 
 the staircase. The main upper hall ran the entire 
 width of the clubhouse, with a window at each 
 end. Lesser halls branched off from it toward 
 the rear, and around the gallery to the front were 
 the ladies' dressing and cloakrooms. Crane gave 
 a cursory glance into one or two of the rooms 
 which lined the back corridors and were evidently 
 for the use of transient guests. Then he turned 
 his attention to the windows. That at the left end 
 of the hall was closed, but the other had been 
 opened, and the detective walked quickly over to 
 it and glanced out. As he had expected, it looked
 
 122 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 directly down upon the driveway from the garage 
 and the clump of boxwood before which Lindsay 
 had been stationed. It would not have taken a 
 particularly muscular throw or deliberate aim to 
 have struck him that blow, even had he had time 
 to light the match and reveal his presence by its 
 flare. If the pistol had been flung blindly straight 
 from the window it could scarcely have avoided 
 hitting him. 
 
 The cloakrooms, which Crane entered next, 
 were a disordered litter of fans, handkerchiefs, 
 and small fancy receptacles for carrying cosmet- 
 ics. The pillows on the couch in one of the dress- 
 ing rooms were deeply indented, showing that 
 some had rested there for a part of the previous 
 evening at least. 
 
 Nothing further of significance rewarding his 
 efforts, the detective descended the staircase to 
 find Murdock hovering about its foot. 
 
 1 'I've some coffee and toast here for you, sir," 
 the latter announced, wetting his thin lips nerv- 
 ously as he spoke. He appeared older by ten 
 years than on the previous night, and the gray at 
 his temples was more evident in the broad light 
 of day. 
 
 "Thank you, Murdock." Crane seated himself 
 at the little table, and, as the other served him, he
 
 IN THE BOXWOOD BUSHES 123 
 
 added: "I understand from Mr. Estridge that 
 you have been here a long time." 
 
 "Since the club was built, sir; that's what 
 makes it so awful what happened last night 
 aside from the shock about poor Mr. Grant. 
 There 's never been a hint of a scandal, never even 
 a hitch in any of the entertainments, nor a com- 
 plaint from a single member that was serious 
 enough to be laid before a meeting of the board, 
 let alone the suspicion of a crime, until last eve- 
 ning. I shouldn't wonder if it would entirely 
 disrupt the club, and I was as proud of it as a 
 member himself could have been!" Murdock, 
 the silent, had suddenly waxed loquacious, but his 
 tones were still habitually deferential. "From 
 the very day that Mr. Grant came to take the 
 place of Mr. Martin I am sure that none of the 
 members nor club attendants had the slightest 
 idea that he was anything more than the house 
 secretary he pretended to be except, of course, 
 those who engaged him. I cannot imagine even 
 yet why a detective should have been installed 
 here, but as to his murder " 
 
 "Go on!" Crane commanded tersely as the 
 other hesitated. 
 
 "Well, sir, I know it's not my place to offer 
 an opinion, especially to a person er a gentle-
 
 124 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 man of your experience in such cases, but couldn 't 
 that have been the work of an outsider, some one 
 who, perhaps, had a private grudge against him? 
 With the crowd that was here last night there 
 would be plenty of chance for a stranger to slip 
 in and out unnoticed, even though I was behind 
 my office desk there all the time." 
 
 "You were there when the shot was fired?" 
 Crane ignored the suggestion. 
 
 "Yes, sir. I remember that one of the hired 
 waiters tried to pass from the rear hall to the 
 supper room in the midst of the singing, and I 
 was just reaching out to stop him when the sound 
 of the shot came." 
 
 Crane turned and regarded the broad desk top 
 reflectively, then once more gazed at his in- 
 formant. 
 
 "You stretched out your hand to touch this 
 waiter from behind your desk?" 
 
 Murdoek flushed but replied promptly: "No, 
 sir. Now and again the gentlemen members leave 
 their golf bags in my office, instead of taking them 
 back to their lockers; there are usually two or 
 three of them there, just as there were last night. 
 When that waiter started to pass I was afraid he 
 would disturb the singing, so I fumbled at random 
 in one of the bags at my feet, picked out a golf
 
 IN THE BOXWOOD BUSHES 125 
 
 club and was trying to tap him on the arm with 
 it when the shot rang out. The club was still in 
 my hand when I vaulted over the desk top I was 
 too much excited to remember the little swinging 
 door and ran out on the veranda with the others. 
 I didn't see from what direction the shot came, 
 and I hadn 't even noticed Mr. Grant at the window 
 there until we found him lying dead. Then Mr. 
 Estridge sent me to collect the extra cooks and 
 waiters and regular attendants in the billiard room 
 until the sheriff and coroner should come. That's 
 really all I can tell you, sir." 
 
 "Did you notice any one move after the singing 
 started, except that waiter?" Crane asked. 
 
 "No, sir." For once Murdock raised his eyes 
 and gazed straight into those of the detective. "I 
 was thinking of them the song was intended for. 
 They were all gentlemen whom I'd served for 
 years, and who wouldn't be coming back to the 
 club, ever." 
 
 Crane pushed back his chair and rose. "Let 
 me see inside that office of yours ; I 'd like to know 
 just where you were standing when you heard the 
 shot." 
 
 Without a word Murdock turned, folded back 
 the hinged top of the counter and, opening the 
 narrow, gatelike door, ushered his visitor inside.
 
 126 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 "Here, sir. I was standing right here and the 
 waiter was there between me and the newel post 
 when I reached down." 
 
 1 1 Into a golf bag at your feet, I think you said, 
 Murdock!" The detective's tones had suddenly 
 crisped. "Where is that bag now? There is only 
 a shelf of ledgers under the counter. ' ' 
 
 Murdoek stared down stupidly. "Why, it's 
 gone!" he exclaimed. "I'm positive there were 
 three, for I had to move two for room to stand. 
 Yes, there they are one in front of my little safe 
 and the other under the letter rack. The gentle- 
 man who owned the third must have taken it home 
 with him when he went, and he'll miss his stick. I 
 left it in the billiard room or somewhere about, in 
 the excitement." 
 
 He had once more become the well-trained 
 servant, and his distress at such a trivial error 
 would have been almost comical under other cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
 "Never mind about the stick!" Crane said im- 
 patiently. "This club member must have been a 
 very enthusiastic golfer to remember his bag at 
 such a time! Who was he!" 
 
 "I don't know, sir." A suspicion of a shrug 
 lifted Murdoek 's lean shoulders. "If I'm busy
 
 IN THE BOXWOOD BUSHES 127 
 
 somewhere else they just drop their bags over the 
 counter, and this one may have belonged to a guest 
 of one of the members. I couldn't even tell you 
 who owns those other two." 
 
 It was at this juncture that the coroner made 
 Ms reappearance from the room where, in his 
 capacity as physician, he had attended Lindsay. 
 Seeing the detective, he exclaimed: "Oh, there 
 you are, Crane ! Been looking for you. Thought 
 you'd like to ride down to the village with me; 
 you mentioned it, if you remember." 
 
 * * Thank you, doctor, I should. ' ' Crane emerged 
 from behind the steward's desk. * ' Murdock, while 
 I'm gone you might find that golf club you spoke 
 of and see if you can identify its owner by it. 
 Now, doctor." 
 
 But, as they descended the veranda steps to 
 Doctor Fellowes ' waiting car, an alert-eyed young 
 man arose from a garden bench and came forward. 
 
 "Man about forty, gray hair at temples, walks 
 like a cat; know him, Mr. Crane?" he asked with- 
 out preamble. 
 
 "I know him," the detective responded briefly. 
 
 "Took 'em down, without looking inside one, 
 and carried 'em into the house heaped up in his 
 arms, as careless as though they were a bundle of
 
 128 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 straw. Same man you found scrubbing up under 
 the window later, but he didn't look around. Noth- 
 ing more doing since." 
 
 "All right, Jewett. Go around to the back and 
 get some breakfast; say I sent you. When I re- 
 turn I'll have further instructions for you." 
 Crane followed the mystified doctor into the car, 
 and, as they rattled down the drive to the open 
 road, he added to the latter: "That was one 
 of the operatives from our own agency whom I 
 brought out from town. He relieved your con- 
 stable in his watch over the dragon lantern. You 
 are going to perform the autopsy now?" 
 
 "Yes. There's no doubt, of course, that the 
 man was killed with that pistol which was found 
 beside the body of the man I have just attended. 
 I understand that you have it, Mr. Crane, and I '11 
 want it as evidence at the inquest." 
 
 "It is in my pocket now, and I will turn it 
 over to you as soon as we reach your house, if you 
 like," Crane said. "It's almost as small as a 
 toy." 
 
 "Small enough for a woman to use, eh!" asked 
 the other. 
 
 "Quite," Crane acquiesced gravely. "Or for a 
 man, either, if he wanted to throw suspicion upon 
 a woman."
 
 IN THE BOXWOOD BUSHES 129 
 
 The doctor glanced up quickly, but he made no 
 comment until they reached his home where, in 
 a small outbuilding, he conducted the few autop- 
 sies he had been called upon to perform. 
 
 "Come into the house for a minute," he said. 
 
 "I want to get my instruments Hang it! 
 
 There's some one in the office! I can't be both- 
 ered with patients now." 
 
 But the big, broad-shouldered, keen-eyed man 
 of thirty-five or more, who arose at their entrance, 
 proved to be no patient. 
 
 "Hello, coroner!" he exclaimed in bluff, hearty 
 tones. * ' My brother, Jack, suggested that I drop 
 in to see if I could be of any assistance to you, 
 shooting irons being my middle name. Mr. Crane, 
 I guess you saw me in that bunch at the club a 
 few hours ago, though you didn't put me through 
 any third degree. I'm Ralph Fraser." 
 
 The detective nodded pleasantly. "I remember 
 you, Mr. Fraser. Doctor, if you will just let me 
 have a look at the body, I'll come back and talk 
 to your guest here until you have finished the 
 autopsy, or until you need him." 
 
 He accompanied the coroner to the little out- 
 building, examined the body of his late associate 
 without visible expression of other than profes- 
 sional interest, and then returned to the office.
 
 130 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 Ralph Fraser was pacing the worn strip of carpet, 
 his huge, well-knit bulk seeming to fill the narrow 
 confines of the room. 
 
 He paused expectantly, and Crane placed his 
 hat on the table and then seated himself. 
 
 * ' Rotten affair, that ! ' ' Fraser observed with an 
 expressive gesture toward the window, through 
 which the little white- washed building was visible. 
 "I was right in the hall, not thirty feet from where 
 the poor fellow stood out on the veranda, and yet 
 I couldn't have told the direction from which the 
 shot came!" 
 
 "That is a puzzling matter to determine some- 
 times," Crane responded, and then abruptly 
 switched the subject from the present and its 
 attendant circumstances. He alluded to Eraser's 
 adopted State and its resources until the coroner 
 rejoined them. "What's the verdict, doctor?" 
 he asked quickly before Fraser could speak. "I 
 don't mean the details they will keep until the 
 inquest. If it isn't asking too much would you 
 mind telling us in confidence what caliber bullet 
 killed Doyle?" 
 
 "A thirty- two," responded the coroner gravely. 
 
 The result of his disclosure was extraordinary. 
 Fraser sprang from his chair, and his strong voice 
 rose almost to a shout. "What! Say that again,
 
 IN THE BOXWOOD BUSHES 131 
 
 will you, doc I You're dead certain that it was 
 a thirty-two?" 
 
 For answer the coroner held out in his palm a 
 tiny, steel-coated object. Fraser seized and eag- 
 erly examined it. Then, with a smothered ejacu- 
 lation, he returned it, and, dropping back into his 
 chair once more, he passed his handkerchief 
 hastily across his forehead. 
 
 "Mr. Fraser" Renwick Crane's incisive tones 
 cut the tension in the air like the thrust of a 
 knife "what do you know of this? With what 
 size bullet did you think Doyle had been killed? 
 Did you think it was the other shot? The shot 
 that missed?"
 
 CHAPTEE IX 
 
 THE CURIOSITY OF MRS. SOWERBT 
 
 HHHE coroner was the first to find his voice. 
 * ' * Do you mean to say, Crane, that two shots 
 were fired at Doyle ! ' ' 
 
 "I have a witness or two who can testify that 
 such is their personal opinion, which appears to 
 have been corroborated by Mr. Fraser's surprise 
 just now. ' ' The detective turned to the latter who 
 still sat as though dazed. "I believe you had a 
 very definite reason for assuming that a bullet 
 other than a thirty-two killed my colleague. Will 
 you tell us what that reason was?" 
 
 Fraser roused himself and squared his shoul- 
 ders. "No reason except an instinctive convic- 
 tion based on my own -knowledge of firearms, ' ' he 
 responded with a show of his former frank, hearty 
 manner. "I told you a little while ago that I 
 couldn't tell the exact direction from which the 
 shot came; that was perfectly true, owing to the 
 acoustics of the rotunda, but it is also true that 
 
 132
 
 THE CURIOSITY OF MRS. SOWERBY 133 
 
 I was absolutely certain, from, the volume of 
 sound, that the weapon used must have been a 
 thirty-eight. ' ' 
 
 "Yet, surely, you heard, from the coroner's 
 preliminary examination of the body, that the 
 wound was caused by a bullet of very small cali- 
 ber," Crane declared. 
 
 "Gentlemen, I am a stranger here, not a mem- 
 ber of the country club, but a guest of my 
 brother." Fraser smiled slightly as he rose. 
 "Down where I come from it isn't healthy for an 
 outside party to set up his opinion against that 
 of the folks in charge, and I thought, of course, 
 that the autopsy would prove my conviction to be 
 the correct one. That is why I dropped around 
 this morning, and why I was so surprised just 
 now to find that my judgment had been at fault. 
 I must apologize to the doctor here for thinking 
 that I knew more than he did about it, but I didn't 
 have a glimpse of the wound, you know. I guess 
 you wouldn't take much stock in any help I might 
 offer you, after making such a bull as that, Doctor 
 Fellowes. I'll be getting on back to my brother's 
 place. I will stay on for several days' visit, 
 though, and, if I can be of any service at any 
 time, you will know where to find me. Mr. Crane, 
 I shall be glad to horn in on your investigation,
 
 134 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 too, and trail along whenever you say the word." 
 
 "You may easily have mistaken the bark of a 
 thirty-two for that of a thirty-eight, especially 
 since, as you say, the acoustics of the hall confused 
 you at the moment, Mr. Fraser." The detective's 
 tone was pleasantly ingratiating now, but his eyes 
 were steady and rather hard. "However, if a 
 totally untrained ear could distinguish between 
 two distinct, but almost simultaneous, shots, 
 surely you would have been able to do so ; that is, 
 provided there had been two shots instead of one. 
 It is a mere supposition as yet, of course." 
 
 Ralph Fraser paused in the doorway. "I've 
 been proved wrong once in this case, and I ought 
 to have horse sense enough not to venture a fur- 
 ther opinion," he remarked. "However, I'd be 
 willing to wager my bottom dollar that only one 
 shot was fired last night." 
 
 When he had taken his departure the coroner 
 and the detective eyed each other in silence. 
 When they heard the gate latch the former asked : 
 "Were you serious about that, Crane, or was it 
 a bluff? Have you actually witnesses who are 
 prepared to swear that two shots were fired?" 
 
 "Not actually." Crane smiled. "However, our 
 friend Fraser evidently had some good reason of 
 his own for believing, or at least suspecting, that
 
 THE CURIOSITY OF MRS. SOWERBY 135 
 
 the weapon used was not this one." As he spoke 
 he took from his pocket the pistol which had felled 
 Lindsay. "This is, as you see, a thirty- two, a 
 single shot has been fired from it, and you know 
 where it was found. Of course, doctor, if your 
 autopsy has shown that the shot which killed 
 Doyle was fired straight in front of him and on a 
 level with his breast " 
 
 Doctor Fellowes shook his head. "I will be 
 frank with you, Crane. That was my first opinion, 
 based on a hasty examination of the body at the 
 club, but I'll have to modify it in part now. The 
 bullet took a downward course and must have been 
 discharged from several feet, at least, above 
 Doyle's head; how far would depend naturally 
 upon the distance of the assassin from his victim. ' ' 
 
 ' * Yes, if Doyle were standing upright, but what 
 if he had been squatting upon bent knees, the 
 upper part of his body still erect, in order the 
 better to see in at the window?" asked Crane. 
 
 "In that case any one within the hall of Doyle's 
 own height might have fired point-blank at him 
 any one, of course, within straight range," the 
 doctor conceded. 
 
 Crane began pacing the floor reflectively. All at 
 once he paused on the threshold and faced the 
 other. " Doctor, do you realize that a straight
 
 136 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 range may not mean the rear of the hall, alone? 
 Have you noticed the width of that window before 
 which Doyle was stationed? I didn't arrive in 
 time to see the position of his body, but, from 
 what testimony I have been able to gather, it was 
 lying in a crumpled heap under the lantern." 
 
 Doctor Fellowes nodded gravely. "That was 
 how I found it when I got there, and Mr. Estridge 
 assured me that its position had not been dis- 
 turbed in any way. But it has been my experience 
 that, during the excitement following the discov- 
 ery of such a crime, the body is frequently moved, 
 if only in the effort to learn whether life is extinct 
 or not." 
 
 "But, even if it had not been disturbed, the po- 
 sition in which you yourself saw it would not 
 prove that Doyle had been directly in the center 
 of the window space, would it?" asked the detec- 
 tive. "Might he not have been peering in at the 
 extreme right or left of the casing?" 
 
 The coroner started. "Why, certainly! And 
 in that case " 
 
 "In that case he would have been within range 
 of almost a complete semicircle of the rotunda 
 a semicircle which would have reached from the 
 conservatory entrance, where young Landon stood 
 alone, around to the door of the smaller supper
 
 THE CURIOSITY OF MRS. SOWERBY 137 
 
 room, where Ogden Bowles had halted, also alone. 
 It would take in all those who stood in the radius 
 between. ' ' 
 
 1 'But this pistol!" The coroner picked it up 
 from the table as he spoke. "Doesn't all the cir- 
 cumstantial evidence point to the fact that the 
 fatal shot was fired from it, and that it was flung 
 out of that window at the end of the upper hall, 
 immediately afterward I ' ' 
 
 "Yes, but it doesn't necessarily prove that the 
 murderer was hiding up on the second floor," 
 Crane objected. "He might easily, in that minute 
 of stunned sensibility on the part of the people, 
 which followed the sound of the shot, have either 
 slipped past Mrs. Carter and up and down the 
 stairs in time to join the general hue and cry, 
 or he might have dashed down the hall leading to 
 the rear and so up the back staircase. As I under- 
 stand it, in the confusion that followed the dis- 
 covery of the crime, it was quite ten or fifteen min- 
 utes before any one thought of counting heads. 
 We know at the agency why Doyle was sent down 
 here, of course, and that knowledge will enable 
 us to eliminate a lot of people from suspicion." 
 
 "The loss or theft of Mrs. de Forest's neck- 
 lace," said the coroner. 
 
 " 'Loss?' " repeated the other.
 
 138 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 "Yes. The sheriff has taken charge of it, you 
 know, and an examination shows that the clasp 
 was defective ; it might have slipped from the old 
 lady's neck at any time after she put it on in 
 her own home until she missed it at the Harvest 
 Dance and reported the matter to the house com- 
 mittee, a period of several hours." Doctor Fel- 
 lowes paused and then went on: "Whoever picked 
 it up has been evidently waiting for a large reward 
 to be offered, or he was afraid to dispose of it, 
 not understanding why a public announcement of 
 the loss was not made." 
 
 "Loss or deliberately planned theft, wherever 
 that necklace has been hidden during the past 
 month, it was 1 placed in the dragon lantern last 
 night and for a particular reason. ' ' The detective 
 made an impatient gesture. "That's beside the 
 point. We're investigating the murder of Jim 
 Doyle, and I can't help feeling that there is some- 
 thing which has been overlooked, some trifling clew 
 that would give us the key to the whole affair." 
 
 "This pistol " began the coroner. 
 
 "Splendid bit of circumstantial evidence, but, 
 unless it has been seen in some one's possession 
 lately, it would take a month to trace it back from 
 the manufacturer to the original purchaser and 
 so on down the line. It is not a new model and
 
 THE CURIOSITY OF MRS. SOWERBY 139 
 
 hasn't a single mark of identification beyond the 
 usual number, maker's name, and the year in 
 which it was patented. No, doctor, I think I shall 
 try a new trail even if I have to blaze it. ' ' Crane 
 picked up his hat. "I'd like a little more intimate 
 knowledge of the people up at the country club 
 than Doyle's reports gave us. Most of the mem- 
 bers are your patients, aren't they?" 
 
 "The majority of those who make Broadlawns 
 an all-year home," Doctor Fellowes responded. 
 "Their places are all in the neighborhood. The 
 Sowerby place is the nearest; it is that big* stone 
 house with turrets, the one we passed just over 
 the hill. On the top of the next hill Mrs. de For- 
 est's old Colonial house stands, and the others of 
 that set are clustered down in the valley. Mrs. 
 Carter's little cottage is sandwiched in between 
 two old farms, within a mile of the club. I have 
 got to call on a patient of mine off Eastville way, 
 but I'll be glad to run you first anywhere you 
 say. ' ' 
 
 "No, thanks. I think I will stroll around the 
 town a little and get a line on the country club 
 crowd from the local angle. I'll be at the club 
 later if you want to consult me." 
 
 Yet, when Crane had seen the doctor's little car 
 disappear down the village street, he turned his
 
 140 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 steps rapidly back in the other direction to the 
 turreted stone house over the hill. He noted the 
 wheel tracks of many vehicles on the driveway as 
 he approached and was not surprised when, in 
 response to his ring at the entrance door, a har- 
 assed butler informed him that Mr. Sowerby was 
 not at home and Mrs. Sowerby had absolutely 
 nothing to say for publication. 
 
 "I do not represent the press,*' the detective 
 retorted. "Kindly tell Mrs. Sowerby that Mr. 
 Crane " 
 
 He got no farther. The mention of his name 
 wrought a miraculous change in the servant's 
 manner. "Come right in, sir. Mr. Sowerby has 
 gone up to the country club, but I've had instruc- 
 tions that Mrs. Sowerby would be at home to you, 
 of course, if you should call. ' ' The man spoke in 
 a nervous undertone. "This way, sir." 
 
 He led the detective into a small drawing-room. 
 A tiny wood fire crackled on the hearth, and the 
 heavy scent of fresh violets in low bowls vied 
 with the cloying, sensuous odor of incense from a 
 bronze brazier. The daylight had been all but 
 excluded by thick curtains which shrouded the 
 windows, and a low wing chair had been drawn 
 up suggestively near a tall, cathedral-backed one. 
 
 As Crane seated himself in the latter he smiled
 
 THE CURIOSITY OF MRS. SOWERBY 141 
 
 inwardly. The stage had evidently been set for 
 a carefully rehearsed scene, but why so much effort 
 to make an impression upon him? He had learned 
 that Mrs. Sowerby went into a fit of hysterics at 
 the time of the shooting and was one of the first 
 to leave the club, escorted by the Dorrances, 
 before his arrival. Was she merely another of the 
 neurasthenics with whom he had more than once 
 come into contact, or had she some deeper reason 
 for this reception? 
 
 She had evidently hoped for his coming, planned 
 for it, and it could not have been difficult to get 
 her self-important husband back to the scene of 
 the previous night's tragedy. Crane thought of 
 the irascible, rheumatic Rutherford Sowerby in 
 this dim, scented, boudoirlike apartment and 
 chuckled to himself. A faint, silken rustle came 
 to his ears, and he turned to greet the small figure 
 in trailing, violet draperies which appeared in the 
 doorway. 
 
 "You're the wonderful Mr. Crane, aren't you?" 
 she asked. ' ' I felt so relieved directly I heard you 
 had arrived. I knew you would clear up this 
 dreadful mystery for us! Please sit down and 
 tell me if you have discovered who did that 
 that fearful thing last night." 
 
 She motioned toward the chair, and, as he re-
 
 142 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 seated himself, the detective made several quick 
 mental notes. There was a certain native shrewish 
 quality back of the lady's childlike tones, a hard- 
 ness underlying her delicate features, and the 
 finger tips of the hand she had extended to him 
 were stubby and hard. This youthful wife of an 
 elderly millionaire was not an aristocratic sensa- 
 tion-seeker, after all ; for some purpose of her own 
 she was prepared to use him if she could, and he 
 had to admit to himself that her work, although 
 crude, was consistent with her type. 
 
 "You flatter me, my dear Mrs. Sowerby!" he 
 replied with exaggerated deference. "I have had 
 very little time, you know, and, with so many 
 people at the club to interview, it is a lengthy 
 business. But I understand that you were ill. I 
 will make my call as brief as possible. If you 
 will just answer a question or two, I won't detain 
 you long." 
 
 "If But what could I possibly tell you?" A 
 sharper note, quickly suppressed, edged the child- 
 ish voice. "Of course I have been frightfully ill 
 all night, as my husband can tell you, from the 
 sheer horror of the thing, but poor Mr. Grant was, 
 as far as we -knew, just a a sort of an infe- 
 rior, an employee of the club like Murdock. How 
 could we possibly imagine that he was a detective ?
 
 THE CURIOSITY OF MRS. SOWERBY 143 
 
 Why has he been there all this past month, dis- 
 guised and watching us all, and the mystery of it 
 makes the whole affair seem like a perfect night- 
 mare ! ' ' 
 
 Could that be mere avid curiosity in her tone, 
 or something bordering on anxiety ? Crane paused 
 before he responded : * ' I am sorry, Mrs. Sowerby, 
 but I am afraid I cannot tell you that just now. 
 You were present when the shot was fired?" 
 
 She shuddered and shrank back within the 
 screening wings of her hair. 
 
 "Yes no! I I was in the conservatory 
 alone. I had gone there to get away from the 
 dancing and noise, for I had a slight headache 
 and didn't want any supper. Then I heard the 
 crash of the shot in the midst of the singing, and 
 some one told me what had happened, and I went 
 into hysterics. I don't see how a highly strung, 
 sensitive woman could have helped it!" 
 
 "A Mr. and Mrs. Dorrance brought you home, I 
 believe. Are they intimate friends of yours, Mrs. 
 Sowerby?" Crane asked. 
 
 She gave a nervous little laugh, and the fingers, 
 which had been tapping the arms of her chair 
 suddenly clutched them. A full minute passed 
 before she replied in a voice of studied naivete: 
 "What a funny question, Mr. Crane! The Dor-
 
 144 THE TKIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 ranees happened to be the first to leave, and my 
 husband or somebody asked them to take me home, 
 as I was quite beside myself ! We are all intimate 
 out here in a way, but they are no closer associates 
 of ours than any other members of our set at 
 the club. Mr. Dorrance is an amusing sort of boy, 
 but his wife, being so much older, doesn't go in 
 for many things except bridge, and, as I have 
 always been far too stupid to learn that, I really 
 know her merely as an acquaintance. Have you 
 interviewed them?" 
 
 ''Not yet." He rose. "I am sorry you cannot 
 tell me anything more definite about last night's 
 affair, but I won't detain you any longer, Mrs. 
 Sowerby. By the way from where you were 
 seated in the conservatory could you see the main 
 staircase? Another lady member of your club, a 
 Mrs. Carter, was standing just at its foot, and, 
 although the murder did not shock her into hys- 
 teria, it stunned her so that I have been able 
 to gain no valuable impressions from her, 
 either." 
 
 "I couldn't imagine Mrs. Carter in hysterics 
 under any circumstances!" Mrs. Sowerby ex- 
 claimed with a hard little laugh. ' ; She would pose 
 if the heavens fell!"
 
 THE CURIOSITY OF MRS. SOWERBY 145 
 
 "Who is she I" Crane asked with seeming indif- 
 ference. 
 
 "Nobody knows. She appeared here alone 
 about two years ago and got into the club, some- 
 how, but none of the women have taken her up 
 beyond being civil to her. I don't think she minds, 
 though, with all the men yapping at her heels as 
 they do. She made a perfect fool of Phil Mrs. 
 Dorrance's husband a season or two ago, but 
 now it is a bachelor for a change that broker 
 who runs out from town to play golf." Mrs. 
 Sowerby caught herself up hastily and added with 
 a belated return to her childlike manner : ' ' Please 
 don't think I am catty, Mr. Crane, I'm not really, 
 but you quite see what I mean, don't you! I 
 couldn't help showing my feelings by becoming 
 hysterical last night! No woman with any heart 
 could have!" 
 
 "I quite understand." The detective spoke 
 with bland sympathy. "You were alone in the 
 conservatory when the crime took place, I think 
 you said, Mrs. Sowerby?" 
 
 "Yes. There may have been other people there, 
 of course, but I had hidden myself away in a 
 corner behind some palms and didn't see nor hear 
 any one."
 
 146 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 "When the sound of the shot came did you 
 leave the conservatory, or did some one come 
 there to tell you what had happened? Who told 
 you?" 
 
 "I don't know! I cannot remember!" she 
 replied. "Of course I must have gotten out into 
 the foyer somehow, but everything was so con- 
 fused and horrible! I caught a glimpse through 
 the window of of that poor thing lying out there 
 on the veranda, and the next thing I can recall is 
 of having given way completely, and Mrs. Fraser 
 and some other ladies were attending me. Oh, I 
 shall never forget the sight of that poor man! 
 Why was he sent here to spy upon us f Dear Mr. 
 Crane, surely you can tell just little me! I don't 
 carry tales, really, truly!" 
 
 Her hand was on his arm, her coaxing face up- 
 turned very close, and the blue eyes were gazing 
 straight into his. For a moment Crane deliber- 
 ately dropped his mask of elaborate deference. 
 
 "Why are you so anxious to know, Mrs. Sow- 
 erby?" he demanded bluntly. "Surely you have 
 nothing to fear from the presence of a detective ? ' ' 
 
 With a shrug she stepped back and again that 
 hard little laugh rose to her lips. 
 
 "Scarcely!" The shrill, shrewish note was 
 dominant now in her tones. "One doesn't like
 
 THE CURIOSITY OF MRS. SOWERBY 147 
 
 to think, however, that, among one's associates, 
 there may be a person guilty of anything which 
 would bring them under surveillance. Good morn- 
 ing, Mr. Crane!" 
 
 Once more out in the bright sunlight and strid- 
 ing down the drive, Crane added a significant note 
 or two to his mental data. Mrs. Sowerby was or 
 had been infatuated with the man named Dor- 
 ranee, and she was jealous of Mrs. Carter; she 
 had told two slightly conflicting stories of her 
 own actions at the moment of the shooting, and, 
 in spite of her denials-, she was deeply and per- 
 sonally concerned in learning the motive for 
 Doyle 's presence at the club, although in ignorance 
 of the loss of the necklace which had occasioned it. 
 
 Why was she so concerned? Could there be 
 wheels within wheels in this quiet,, conservative 
 community? Could there, after all, have been 
 some other possible motive than the theft of the 
 necklace for the murder of Jim Doyle?
 
 CHAPTEK X 
 
 THE WOMAN UPSTAIRS 
 
 "D ETURNING to the village, Crane possessed 
 "^ himself of a small car at a renting garage. 
 After consulting a road map he started by a wide 
 detour toward the club. The machine he had 
 hired was of an antiquated model and slow and 
 halting in its gait, but it had the double advantage 
 of a dull, neutral-gray color and a silent motor. 
 
 The road he had chosen led away from the 
 estates of the country club colony, through a 
 region of small farms, out upon a pleasant high- 
 way, bordered on the right by rolling fields and 
 on the left by a deep glen. Through the dense, 
 but almost leafless, trees there came the trickle 
 of a waterfall. 
 
 Crane had passed no vehicles upon the way 
 except an occasional farm wagon, but, as he 
 reached the glen, an approaching rumble and roar 
 came to his ears, and he drew up at the extreme 
 right of the road just as another car thundered 
 
 148
 
 THE WOMAN UPSTAIRS 149 
 
 past, rocking from side to side, despite its weight, 
 by the speed at which it was driven. The face 
 of the man bent over the wheel was like a demon. 
 
 It was distorted with a very frenzy of fury, but, 
 although the man went by in a swift blur, the de- 
 tective recognized him. The man was the suave 
 broker of the previous night's interview, Ogden 
 Bowles. 
 
 Crane shut off his engine and sat back under the 
 hoodlike top for a moment's reflection on the inci- 
 dent. Bowles was the acknowledged suitor of the 
 red-haired Mrs. Carter, yet he was obviously not 
 going to or returning from her little cottage, for 
 it lay several miles in another direction. Where 
 had he been, and what could have put him in 
 such a rage? He had practically asserted the 
 evening before that his only interest out of town 
 was in the country club and his associates there. 
 He, too, had been present when that shot was 
 fired, standing at the extreme left of that semi- 
 circle, within pistol range of the window with 
 the dragon lantern. 
 
 Crane shrugged and started to alight in order 
 to crank his ancient little car. The faint sound 
 of voices down in the glen at the left reached him, 
 and he paused, then crossed the road quickly and, 
 ducking between the railings of the fence, he
 
 150 THE TEIGGEE OP CONSCIENCE 
 
 began to make his way cautiously down the steep 
 declivity through the crackling underbrush. 
 
 The sound of the voices came nearer, and, as 
 Crane reached a sort of path which wound along 
 the bank of a narrow stream, he saw a man and 
 a woman approaching. The man was young and 
 dapper, with a small, blond mustache, and he was 
 evidently under stress of some violent emotion, 
 for he gesticulated jerkily as he trotted along 
 beside his taller companion, who walked steadily 
 with a free, swinging stride. She wore a clinging 
 sweater, and the sunlight, striking down through 
 the naked branches of the trees, glowed on her 
 bare head and turned it to molten copper. 
 
 Crane did not know the man, but he had little 
 difficulty in recognizing Mrs. Carter, and he 
 slipped hastily behind a clump of low-growing 
 evergreens, as the couple approached. 
 
 "I tell you it's life or death!" The man's 
 voice fairly broke in his excitement. "Don't you 
 suppose I realize my position as it is? No mercy 
 would be shown " 
 
 "You speak of mercy?" They were abreast 
 of the detective now, and the contempt in the 
 woman's rich, calm tones was as keen as a knife 
 blade. "Women have shown me scant mercy in
 
 THE WOMAN UPSTAIES 151 
 
 my life ; why should I ruin myself now in order to 
 help you to see that another doesn't suffer?" 
 
 "Then I'll tell!" The man's voice rose in a 
 cry of rage. "I swear to Heaven I'll tell!" 
 
 "Very well, you cur !" Mrs. Carter's tones had 
 not risen, and, as the couple rapidly receded down 
 the path, the detective could barely distinguish 
 her words. ' ' The world is wide, and Broadlawns 
 is only a tiny corner of it." 
 
 The man began to plead in an indistinguishable, 
 vehement murmur, and Crane scrambled back to 
 the road and hurriedly cranked up his car. He 
 drove back the way he had come until he reached 
 a crossroad. A glance at the map showed him 
 it must be a short cut to the club. The reason 
 was apparent now for Bowies' jealous rage. Bat 
 what was the secret which the inscrutable Mrs. 
 Carter had defied her companion to disclose, and 
 who was the other woman he was trying to induce 
 her to save from suffering? 
 
 His reflections were interrupted by a deep- 
 toned, resonant hail, and, looking up sharply, he 
 beheld the head and shoulders of Samuel Estridge 
 rising from behind a trim hedge of privet. 
 
 "Just the man I want to see!" the attorney 
 exclaimed. "Come in and have lunch with me,
 
 152 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 Crane. I've been puttering around the club all 
 the morning waiting for you to turn up, but they 
 told me you had gone off with the coroner. " 
 
 The detective was only too glad to accept, not 
 only because of this signal honor paid to him by 
 one of the most eminent members of the bar and 
 the opportunity to study him at close range, but 
 because he felt that no one else in the colony 
 could give him more information of the sort he 
 required. 
 
 He drove in between pillars of the privet, 
 turned his machine over to the chauffeur, and 
 followed his host into the ivy-covered brick 
 cottage. 
 
 * ' I hired that old bus there in the village. After 
 the autopsy I left Doctor Fellowes and called on 
 Mr. Sowerby, but I learned that he, too, had gone 
 up to the club," Crane explained. 
 
 Samuel Estridge's eyes twinkled. "I fancy 
 your time wasn't wasted, however, if you were 
 looking for any gossip of the colony," he observed 
 dryly. "Did the autopsy disclose what we ex- 
 pected?" 
 
 Crane nodded. "I don't think I am violating 
 any professional confidence of the coroner's in 
 saying that the weapon which knocked out your 
 man Lindsay was unquestionably, as far as the
 
 THE WOMAN UPSTAIES 153 
 
 present circumstantial evidence goes, the same 
 that was used to kill Doyle. How is Lindsay? I 
 forgot to ask the doctor." 
 
 "Conscious and coming around all right, but 
 the only thing he can remember, just before some- 
 thing hit him, was a sort of scraping noise ; might 
 have been the raising of that upper hall window, 
 eh?" 
 
 "Yes Mr. Estridge, I'm not going to accept 
 your hospitality and abuse it, nor am I stupid 
 enough to think that I could attempt to pump the 
 cleverest cross-examiner in the courts to-day and 
 get away with it!" Crane laughed with boyish 
 frankness. "However, I do want some dope on 
 the crowd out here that only you can give me, 
 if you will." 
 
 ' ' Gladly ! Come along into the dining room, our 
 chops are getting cold." The attorney laughed 
 also and led his guest into the austere Jacobean 
 room. He waited until his man had served them 
 and withdrawn before he added: "I'm afraid, 
 Crane, that I'm reaching the age when a man 
 loves to gossip. What can I tell you?" 
 
 * ' First of all I must confess that I did get a bit 
 of illuminating gossip to-day, but not in the way 
 that you imagine, sir, ' ' Crane responded candidly. 
 "In an investigation of this sort, where I am fol-
 
 154 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 lowing a blind trail, the little, insignificant details 
 about the lives of the people who were present 
 when the crime was committed, sometimes provide 
 unexpectedly valuable clews, even though they 
 themselves are unquestionably innocent. For in- 
 stance, can you tell me anything more about Mr. 
 Fraser's brother than that he comes from Texas 
 and has done some banking business with Mr. Sow- 
 erby 's institution! I met hi'm again this morning, 
 and he seems to be a bug on weapons, especially 
 firearms. ' ' 
 
 "So Jack told me, but I never met Ralph Fraser 
 until yesterday afternoon," Estridge remarked. 
 ' ' He goes in more for collecting freak man-killing 
 inventions, I believe, than the sort which usually 
 come under your professional notice or mine. I 
 don't mean bombs, but pistols and daggers, dis- 
 guised more or less innocently, after the manner 
 of the old sword canes. He seems to be rather 
 an ingenuous sort of fellow for such a blood- 
 thirsty hobby, and, since you have already got the 
 weapon with which, in all human probability, the 
 murder was committed last night, I don't believe 
 he will be of much use to you. ' ' 
 
 "I merely used him as an illustration," Crane 
 averred. * * Then there is the broker, Mr. Bowles :
 
 THE WOMAN UPSTAIRS 155 
 
 what is his particular hobby, other than golf and 
 defying speed laws?" 
 
 "I don't believe I know," replied the attorney 
 thoughtfully. "He hasn't been a member long, 
 but he was proposed and seconded by two mem- 
 bers of the house committee, one of whom is ill, 
 and the other away just now. I never realized 
 it until you spoke, but I do not believe that any 
 of the rest of us know much about him or his 
 personal proclivities. ' ' 
 
 "I gather that he was rather more of a ladies ' 
 man," Crane observed slyly. "By the way, Mr. 
 Estridge, I don't mean to be indiscreet, but I have 
 heard that there is a woman member of your club 
 about whom no one seems to know very much, 
 either, although that is the worst that any one 
 appears able to say against her. Can you tell 
 me where she came from and who were her social 
 sponsors! I work mostly by a process of elimi- 
 nation, you know r , and I like to have all the irrele- 
 vant factors tabulated and out of my way. ' ' 
 
 The attorney hesitated for a moment frown- 
 ingly, and then his brow cleared. "I can see no 
 harm in giving you the information which, with a 
 little more time and trouble, you might easily 
 obtain elsewhere. The lady to whom you refer
 
 156 THE TRIGGER OP CONSCIENCE 
 
 came from Raleigh, North Carolina, about three 
 years ago, deposited negotiable stocks and bonds 
 for a substantial amount in one of the local banks, 
 and purchased the cottage which she now occupies. 
 Of course being a stranger here and alone I will 
 admit that she was looked at rather askance by 
 the other matrons of the colony, but she made no 
 attempt to force herself upon the society of any 
 one and lived for several months in the strictest 
 seclusion. Then gradually people began taking 
 her up, and at length somebody proposed her at 
 the club. I have been given to understand that 
 she has a substantial income from her late hus- 
 band's estate." 
 
 "Does any one know what her late husband's 
 business was, or his first name?" asked the 
 detective. 
 
 Again the attorney hesitated before he replied : 
 ' ' His name was Amsa, or Abner, or some such old- 
 fashioned name. I have heard that he was elderly 
 and retired when she married him, and she was 
 a mere girl. If I were a married man myself, Mr. 
 Crane, I might be able to give you more intimate 
 details, but, being just a bachelor, the ladies do 
 not confide in me. However, it has been hinted 
 that her life wasn't particularly happy the old 
 story of May and December, I suppose and his
 
 THE WOMAN UPSTAIRS 157 
 
 death was more of a relief than a sorrow. At 
 least that is the reason which is given for her dis- 
 taste to discuss the past. There, you see, Crane, 
 I told you I feared I had reached the age when a 
 man loves to gossip!" 
 
 Accepting the final remark as a hint the detec- 
 tive turned the conversation away from personali- 
 ties, and it was not until just as he was taking 
 leave of his host that he asked, as though in an 
 afterthought: "Know any blond young man 
 around here who wears a little mustache and 
 dresses like a fashion plate, only a little more so, 
 Mr. Estridge? He has rather a high voice, and I 
 imagine he thinks pretty well of himself." 
 
 The attorney laughed carelessly. "Oh, you 
 mean young Phil Dorrance! No one takes him 
 very seriously, I am afraid. He and his wife are 
 in the crowd up at the country club, but you didn't 
 meet him because they went home early and 
 escorted Mrs. Sowerby, whose nerves had gone to 
 pieces. He is a harmless sort, too, and we've all 
 known him for years. ' ' 
 
 Orane laughed in return. "I didn't suspect 
 him, sir, of carrying the popgun! Thanks so 
 much for your good hospitality and your good 
 counsel ; I am sure I shall profit by both. ' ' 
 
 Chugging off down the road, the detective
 
 158 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 turned a curve in leisurely fashion and then, 
 secure from observation, he studied his map again. 
 
 The way to the country club he had already 
 ascertained, but, after a prolonged scrutiny, he 
 selected a veritable network of byways, which 
 finally brought him to the gate of a modest little 
 villa modeled after the Elizabethan style. Here 
 he left his car in the roadway and, proceeding up 
 the path, was on the point of ringing the bell 
 when a woman's voice called from the garden: 
 "You are Mr. Crane, aren't you? If you want to 
 talk to me, wouldn't you rather sit out here? It 
 is not really cold yet, you know." 
 
 Turning he beheld the woman of the sweater 
 whom he had seen that morning on the glen road. 
 Her coppery hair glowed in the sunlight. She 
 beckoned invitingly to a garden seat, and nothing 
 loath the detective complied, involuntarily com- 
 paring this reception with that of the morning 
 from another hostess. Whatever Mrs. Carter's 
 secret might be, she was evidently unafraid or 
 unashamed of its possible consequences. Glancing 
 into her clear eyes Crane felt a shade of com- 
 punction. 
 
 "I am very sorry to intrude upon you, Mrs. 
 Carter." Genuine sincerity rang in his tones.
 
 THE WOMAN UPSTAIRS 159 
 
 "I have just been lunching with Mr. Estridge, 
 and, of course, our conversation hinged upon last 
 night's tragedy at the country club." 
 
 "Naturally, Mr. Crane, since you have come out 
 here to investigate it." Her steady eyes regarded 
 him unblinldngly. * * Is there any way in which I 
 may assist you?" 
 
 "It is barely possible, Mrs. Carter. You will 
 forgive me for recalling to you the moment which 
 so unnerved you last evening, the moment in which 
 the shot was fired which killed my colleague. ' ' He 
 watched her face narrowly as he spoke, and it did 
 not blanch nor weaken as Mrs. Sowerby's had 
 done. 
 
 "Perfectly, Mr. Crane. Do you think that I or 
 any one else present could forget it? That poor 
 young man!" The lines of settled sorrow had 
 deepened around her mobile lips. 
 
 "You had been up in v the ladies' dressing room, 
 resting, I think," Crane went on. "Was there no 
 maid assigned there?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, but I fancy she had gone down to 
 the kitchen or pantry. There was no one there 
 when the singing started, except, of course, Mrs. 
 Sowerby. I left her and then came downstairs." 
 
 "What!" The exclamation arose unbidden to
 
 160 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 the detective's lips, and instinctively lie amended 
 it. "Only Mrs. Sowerby!" 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Crane. When I descended the stairs 
 Mrs. Sowerby was resting on a couch in one of 
 the dressing rooms. There could have been no 
 one else on that upper floor. ' '
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE SHOT FEOM THE AIR 
 
 TT seemed to Crane, despite his long years of 
 training in self-control, that his face must 
 have betrayed his surprise at Mrs. Carter's aston- 
 ishing revelation, but he did not permit his glance 
 to waver, and his voice was as steady as her own 
 calm one. "You did not hold any conversation 
 with Mrs. Sowerby when you came upon her in 
 the dressing room?" 
 
 1 'No. There are two rest rooms, you know, and 
 I had been reclining in the other one; I merely 
 glanced in her room as I passed. I do not know 
 when she went downstairs. As I told you, the 
 sound of the shot, just as I reached the bottom, 
 stunned me so that I was practically oblivious 
 to everything about me for some little time. But 
 in what way can I help you, Mr. Crane?" She 
 hesitated and then added: "I trust the matter 
 will be cleared up soon and the murderer discov- 
 
 161
 
 162 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 ered, not only in the interests of justice, but be- 
 cause I ana thinking of going away." 
 
 She glanced off as she spoke toward the little 
 cottage, half hidden among the bare trees, and 
 there was an unmistakable note of wistfulness in 
 her tones. The controversy, which he had over- 
 heard in part in the glen that morning, returned 
 to the detective's mind, and her final words rang 
 again in his ears : ' ' The world is wide and Broad- 
 lawns is only a tiny corner of it. ' ' Had she defied 
 Dorrance to the end, and would what he meant 
 to tell ruin her and drive her forth from her quiet 
 homef 
 
 "Isn't your decision rather a hasty one, Mrs. 
 Carter?" His tone was that of studied indiffer- 
 ence, but the one in which she replied was slightly 
 shaken. 
 
 ' ' No. I have not discussed it, but for some time 
 I have considered returning to my old home. As 
 soon as I can arrange my affairs and dispose of 
 my little place here I am going back. ' ' 
 
 "To Raleigh?" 
 
 "Who told you I came from there ? ' ' Her voice 
 had steadied once more, but each word came slowly 
 as though carefully chosen. "As a matter of fact 
 we lived quite a little way out in the country, 
 several miles from any one, except negroes and
 
 THE SHOT FROM THE AIR 163 
 
 what are known down there as 'poor whites." 
 However, after my husband's death, I transacted 
 my financial affairs with bankers in Raleigh and 
 naturally gave them as my business reference on 
 coming here." 
 
 "You had friends here, Mrs. Carter 1 ? "Why did 
 vou select Broadlawns as your home?" 
 
 "A mere whim." A little twisted smile came 
 to her lips. "I wanted to get away from the South 
 and everything that would remind me of it. I had 
 seen pictures of the Broadlawns Country Club at 
 the time of a golf tournament, several years ago, 
 and, when I came to New York, an agent for sub- 
 urban real estate whom I consulted had this cot- 
 tage on his list. I came out to see it and was 
 charmed by the whole atmosphere of the place, but 
 of late I find that I have been growing homesick, 
 and the climate does not agree with me. As soon 
 as I am no longer needed as a witness for that 
 tragic affair at the club I want to return to North 
 Carolina. ' ' 
 
 1 'Yet if you were so anxious to get away from 
 everything that reminded you of the South, you 
 could not have been very happy there," Crane 
 remarked. "You must forgive these personal 
 questions, Mrs. Carter, but I shall have to make 
 out the fullest possible report for my chief con-
 
 164 THE TRIGGER OP CONSCIENCE 
 
 cerning every one who was on the scene of the 
 crime." 
 
 "I quite understand, " she replied. "My mar- 
 ried life was not altogether happy, chiefly be- 
 cause of the loneliness and isolation in which my 
 husband lived. He was elderly and had many 
 eccentricities, but, after his death, I found pleas- 
 ant friends in Raleigh during the short period 
 of my stay there, and those I have made here 
 are less congenial.*' 
 
 "What was your husband's full name, Mrs. 
 Carter, and when did he die?" 
 
 "Asa Carter; his death took place about three 
 and a half years ago. My maiden name was 
 Nina Shirley, and I came from Charlotte. I was 
 an orphan when I married Mr. Carter, eleven 
 years ago. Doubtless some of my former school 
 friends in Charlotte would remember me, but I 
 have seen none of them since my marriage. My 
 husband would tolerate no visitors, and my desul- 
 tory correspondence soon languished. Our near- 
 est post-office address, by the way, was a tiny ham- 
 let called Mosely. I think, Mr. Crane, that that 
 is all the information I can give you." 
 
 Her air of finality was pointed, but the detec- 
 tive made no move to depart. Instead he asked : 
 "Do you know of any enmity which you may have
 
 THE SHOT FROM THE AIR 165 
 
 incurred, Mrs. Carter, either here, or elsewhere? 
 Is there any one, man or woman, to whom you 
 may, however unconsciously, have given cause to 
 harm you! " 
 
 "What a strange question!" She spoke in a 
 low voice scarcely above a whisper. "Why 
 should any one wish to harm me, Mr. Crane? 
 I came here a stranger, desiring only peace and 
 seclusion, and I sought no society, the people 
 hereabout sought me. It was only after repeated 
 urging that I consented to become a member of 
 the country club, but I have participated very lit- 
 tle in the social life there and have made no really 
 close friendships. To my knowledge I have not 
 an enemy in the world." 
 
 "You say that you have made no close friend- 
 ships, yet, among all the people here, with whom 
 have you most frequently been associated?" 
 
 For a moment her smooth brow wrinkled as 
 though in thought, and then she replied hesita- 
 tingly: "There is always rumor and gossip about 
 a woman alone, especially in a small, circum- 
 scribed country-club community. I have avoided 
 any but the most formal associations with the 
 members, although Mrs. Fraser has been very 
 cordial, and I have found little Miss Dare most 
 unaffected and charming." She paused. "I
 
 166 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 have occasionally consulted Mr. Estridge or Mr. 
 Sowerby about investments, and, when I first 
 joined the club, Mr. Dorrance offered to teach me 
 to play golf, but I did not care for it and proved 
 a poor pupil. After several seasons I found my- 
 self barely acquainted with the others, with the 
 exception of Mr. Bowles. He has been assiduous 
 in his attempts to relieve my loneliness. If any 
 gossip has reached your ears it must be in con- 
 nection with his attentions to me, but they are 
 merely those of a friend; I have no intention of 
 ever marrying again. Really, Mr. Crane, I can- 
 not understand what these questions may mean! 
 Has any one been making any absurd accusations 
 against me!'* 
 
 Resentment struggled with a sort of resigned 
 tolerance in her tone, and, with the insufficient data 
 at his command, the detective dared not betray 
 the knowledge gained by overhearing that con- 
 versation in the glen. But another phrase, which 
 had been used by the woman before him, returned 
 to his mind: " Women have shown me scant mercy 
 in my life.'* He decided to make one last effort. 
 
 "No one has been making any direct accusa- 
 tions, Mrs. Carter, but, as you say, there are al- 
 ways rumors and petty gossip in a place like this, 
 not only about you, but about all other young and
 
 THE SHOT FROM THE AIR 167 
 
 attractive women, and they are most cruel to their 
 own sex. These are merely routine questions, for 
 you, in common with the others who were present 
 at the moment of the murder last night, have es- 
 tablished your position. But can't you tell me 
 if there is any woman who has been unkind to 
 you and whom you have in your power to aid or 
 injure if you would?" 
 
 Mrs. Carter rose, and the setting sun glinted 
 on her copper-red hair as it had done that morn- 
 ing, her voice, too, holding the same note of con- 
 trolled contempt. "I realize now that you have 
 already been listening to what you call petty gos- 
 sip about me, Mr. Crane, but I do not -know to 
 what you allude. None of it has reached my ears. 
 However, as I have already stated, I have not an 
 enemy in the world, nor is there any one, man or 
 woman, whom I could injure if I would. ' ' 
 
 Crane rose also, and his frank, boyish, ingra- 
 tiating laugh broke the tension in the air. * * Mrs. 
 Carter, I may tell you in confidence that, in my 
 preliminary interviews with the different ladies 
 of the country-club colony, each one has seemed 
 to consider the others their potential enemies. I 
 will not trouble you further now, and I will not 
 intrude upon you again until the inquest, unless 
 it is absolutely necessary."
 
 168 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 His hostess ' manner softened to graciousness as 
 she accompanied him to the gate. ' ' I wish it were 
 within my power, Mr. Crane, to aid you in your 
 inquiry, but the horrible affair of last nigh tx is as 
 much of a mystery to me as it must have been to all 
 those present, except the murderer himself ; more, 
 in fact, since some of the house committee, at least, 
 must have known why poor Mr. Grant or Doyle 
 was installed in the club in the first place, where- 
 as the majority of us were, and still are, ignorant 
 of the motive for his presence there." 
 
 Taking leave of her, the detective cranked up 
 his little car and descended into the valley. Here 
 the homes of the country-club colony clustered 
 about the Colonial mansion of Mrs. de Forest. It 
 was not to that august matron, however, that he 
 paid his next visit, but, aided by the directions of 
 a small boy whom he met by the roadside, he 
 pulled up before a modern bungalow, its grounds 
 still ablaze with late autumn flowers, and, alight- 
 ing, asked for Mrs. Fraser. 
 
 She appeared almost upon the heels of her trim 
 little maid, and her firm handclasp held no hint 
 of other than the sentiments which she expressed 
 in her greeting. "Can I help you in any way. 
 Mr. Crane? My brother-in-law said that he met 
 you at the coroner's this morning, but, unfortu-
 
 THE SHOT FROM THE AIR 169 
 
 nately, both he and my husband have gone over 
 to the club. However, if I may be of any assist- 
 ance, I shall be only too glad to answer any ques- 
 tions to the best of my knowledge." 
 
 "Thank you." He accepted the seat to which 
 she motioned him in the spacious, chintz-hung 
 drawing-room and regarded her appreciatively 
 across the little tea table, at which she proceeded 
 to busy herself. Her mouth was sensitive, but 
 humorous, her eyes candid and clear with the at- 
 mosphere of the clean out-doors which had tanned 
 her skin an honest brown and tinted her chestnut 
 hair with a faded gold. "I asked for you, Mrs. 
 Fraser, but it was really Mr. Ralph Fraser I 
 wanted to consult once more, for I understand 
 that he is quite an authority on firearms." 
 
 "That sort of thing is a hobby with Ralph, but 
 I know very little about it; I have a horror of 
 killing things." She gave a little shiver. 
 "Whenever Ralph comes to see us he brings some 
 new freak pistol or deadly trick knife. He goes 
 to all kinds of trouble to find these things, but it 
 is merely the enthusiasm of the collector." 
 
 "And your husband does not share it any more 
 than you?" 
 
 She laughed. "Oh, Jack goes duck shooting 
 every year, but, aside from that, I believe his only
 
 170 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 passion, beside business, is golf; he is as crazy 
 about it as I am, and, if this dreadful thing had 
 not happened at the club last night, we were going 
 to teach Ralph to play during this visit. He 
 brought down an outfit of everything suggested 
 to him in a sporting-goods shop." 
 
 "Did he bring anything else, Mrs. Fraserl 
 Any new freak w r eapon w^hich he may have added 
 to his collection? I should like to see it if he 
 did. I am interested in such things myself," 
 the detective remarked casually. 
 
 "I don't know." She handed him a cup of tea 
 across the little table. "Ralph only arrived on the 
 final train before the dance last evening, and I was 
 so busy dressing and seeing that he was served 
 with a belated dinner that I really did not pay 
 much attention to him beyond a hurried greeting. 
 I believe I did overhear him tell Jack that he had 
 some rather remarkable curiosity to show him 
 later. If it is in the line of his hobby I am sure 
 that he will be only too delighted to exhibit it 
 to you, too." 
 
 Crane stirred his tea reflectively for a moment 
 and then observed: "Of course I am trying to 
 interview every one who was present when my 
 colleague was killed last night, but it is rather a 
 large order, in so short a time, before the inquest.
 
 THE SHOT FROM THE AIR 171 
 
 Can you help me by telling me something about 
 the rest of the people who were there?" 
 
 Mrs. Fraser raised protesting hands. 
 
 " Don't ask me for current gossip, please! I 
 never listen to any; perhaps that is why I am on 
 cordial speaking terms with evety one. They 
 have all been here longer than we, with the ex- 
 ception of Mr. Bowles, who only became a member 
 this season, and Mrs. Carter, who settled here 
 two or three years ago." 
 
 "Mrs. Carter is one of your best friends, is 
 she not, Mrs. Fraser ?" Crane put the question 
 in an idly inconsequential tone, but his hostess' 
 surprise at its tenor made her reply with naive 
 haste: "Why, no. I was among the first to call 
 upon her, and I found her very interesting. You 
 see, we all know each other's every mood so well 
 out here that, at times, we bore each other to tears, 
 and a new personality is welcome. I tried to draw 
 Mrs. Carter out and make a real friend of her, 
 but there is something baffling about her. This 
 something, while it does not actually repel one, 
 seems to hold one at arm's length. She has al- 
 ways been very pleasant, but I do not feel that I 
 know her any better than on the day of my first 
 call." Mrs. Fraser paused and drew a deep 
 breath. "But all this is dangerously close to
 
 172 THE TEIGGEB OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 gossip, isn't it? Mrs. Carter is reserved, but 
 really very charming." 
 
 Crane placed his teacup upon the table. * * Miss 
 Dare is also a newcomer, is she not! And Mr. 
 Landon, too?" 
 
 "Oh, Alice Dare is sponsored by her aunt, Mrs. 
 de Forest, who is quite the leader of everything 
 out here, and Gerald Landon is our own house 
 guest and a dear boy. Jack put him up at the 
 club for the season, and he plays splendid golf ! ' ' 
 she exclaimed enthusiastically. "I think you 
 know that he has a position in the bank of which 
 Mr. Sowerby is president, and he and Alice but 
 there I am gossiping again!" 
 
 Crane smiled. "I have already heard rumors 
 of an engagement between them, Mrs. Fraser, so 
 you are not telling tales out of school. ' ' 
 
 Her face sobered. ' ' That rumor is a little pre- 
 mature, I am afraid, for they are both mere chil- 
 dren without a penny between them, and Mrs. de 
 Forest has more ambitious plans for her niece." 
 
 "Mrs. de Forest is very wealthy herself, is she 
 not?" the detective asked. "I have heard of 
 some famous diamonds of hers, and her estate on 
 the hill seems to be the most pretentious on the 
 countryside. ' ' 
 
 "Oh, yes, she has a great deal of money, I be-
 
 THE SHOT FROM THE AIE 173 
 
 lieve, but Alice is an orphan and wholly depend- 
 ent upon her," Mrs. Fraser responded, adding, 
 with a little laugh, "I suppose the whole neigh- 
 borhood has heard about the famous de Forest 
 necklace, but she hasn't worn it lately. I fancy 
 it is too gorgeous for our modest set out here. 
 You are not going, Mr. Crane? My husband and 
 his brother ought to be back from the club very 
 shortly, and they may be able to give you infor- 
 mation of more value than I have been able to do, 
 especially as Jack " 
 
 She caught herself up suddenly, biting her lips, 
 and Crane was quick to follow up her slip. 
 "What, Mrs. Fraser? Why do you think that 
 your husband would be especially able to give me 
 information of value?" 
 
 She flushed beneath the clear tan of her cheeks 
 and, after hesitating, drew a deep breath. "I am 
 afraid that I have gone too far, now, not to ex- 
 plain, but I hope you will believe me. My husband 
 has never betrayed the confidence of any one else 
 to me, but wives have a sort of way of divining 
 things, you know, and Jack is a member of the 
 house committee of the club. I do not know why 
 that poor detective, who was shot last night, was 
 ever engaged to come out here, but I believe Jack 
 does know, just as you must. That is why I
 
 174 THE TRIGGER. OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 thought that he would be better informed of the 
 situation and able to help you." 
 
 "You have not asked him, Mrs. Fraser?" 
 Crane smiled as he held out his hand, and she 
 smiled, too, as she placed hers within it. 
 
 "No, Mr. Crane. I knew that he would have 
 told me if he could, but I observed last night, in 
 the excitement following the shooting, that he did 
 not seem as surprised as the rest at the penetra- 
 tion of your associate's disguise, nor even at the 
 fact of the murder itself, and he was anxious only 
 to discover the author of it. Of course he could 
 not have anticipated the crime, but that he was 
 not astounded when it did take place shows that 
 there must have been a very serious reason for 
 the employment of a private detective at Broad- 
 lawns a reason as serious as life and death it- 
 self! I am wondering " 
 
 "Yes?" he asked, as she hesitated once more. 
 
 "Why that moment of all others was chosen 
 for the murder, virtually in the presence of a score 
 of people, when the poor fellow might so easily 
 have been done to death at any time during the 
 past month in one of his solitary rambles about 
 the lonelier stretches of the golf course. Could he 
 have been on the point of succeeding, in whatever 
 his quest was, or could some one else among us
 
 THE SHOT FROM THE AIR 175 
 
 have discovered his identity and had another 
 cause to fear the presence of a detective?" 
 
 ' ' What made you think of that ? ' ' Crane asked 
 quickly. 
 
 "I dare not accuse anybody!" She had paled 
 beneath her tan, and her reply came in a low tone, 
 surcharged with emotion. "I have not spoken 
 of this to any one, not even my husband, because 
 I was not sure of myself, sure, I mean that my 
 imagination had not played me false. Yet it has 
 been on my mind ever since, and I do not think 
 that the noise of the shot could have quite robbed 
 me of my senses, although it startled me, of course. 
 Besides, I saw it an instant before the sound 
 came. ' ' 
 
 "Saw what, Mrs. Fraser?" The detective 
 prompted her eagerly. 
 
 ' ' A tiny flash of light like a spark, which winked 
 and went out, just as the roar of the shot rever- 
 berated through the wide spaces of the foyer." 
 
 "You were standing with Miss Dare, your hus- 
 band, and your brother-in-law, between the en- 
 trance to the conservatory and the door leading 
 to the billiard room, were you not? Do you re- 
 call in what direction you yourself were facing?" 
 Crane could scarcely restrain the excitement which 
 he felt from betraying itself in his tones. "Was
 
 176 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 it toward the porch and the window where the 
 dragon lantern hung? " 
 
 ' ' No, ' ' she responded slowly. * ' I remember dis- 
 tinctly that I was facing straight across the hall, 
 past the foot of the staircase and in the general 
 direction of the steward's desk and the entrances 
 to the dining and smaller supper rooms. I was 
 singing with the rest and had raised my eyes 
 slightly, as most amateurs do when they reach for 
 a higher note than their usual range. That is how 
 I happened to see the tiny flash, I suppose, for 
 it seemed to start quite far above my head, above 
 the heads of any one there, and, in the brief sec- 
 ond before it disappeared, I fancied that it moved 
 slightly in a downward course. It was as though 
 the shot were fired from the air." 
 
 " You say that you were looking past the foot of 
 the stairs, but, if that moving spark, which you 
 saw, were above the heads of any one standing on 
 the floor of the rotunda, could it not have come 
 from somewhere upon the staircase itself I" asked 
 the detective. " Think carefully, Mrs. Fraser, for 
 it is important." 
 
 But Mrs. Fraser shook her head with decision. 
 "No, Mr. Crane. That was the first thought 
 which came to me after the lights were turned 
 on and the body discovered, but the flash was much
 
 THE SHOT FROM THE AIE 177 
 
 farther over toward the center of the hall than 
 where the stairs end." 
 
 "Do you recall who was standing on the op- 
 posite side of the hall when the lights went up?" 
 
 "No!" she replied quickly, too quickly for her 
 assertion to carry conviction. Evidently realizing 
 this she added: "In the general excitement it 
 seemed ages before some one found the switch 
 for the lights, and then everybody was rushing 
 about in the wildest confusion. But, while the 
 people were assembling for the singing and the 
 string orchestra was playing the introduction, I 
 noticed several people on the opposite side of the 
 hall; Mrs. de Forest in her chair, the Dorrances, 
 Mr. Bowles, Murdock behind his desk, and several 
 others moving about between. Really, Mr. Crane, 
 that little flash may have meant nothing. ' ' 
 
 1 1 Then, if it were not the flash from the revolver 
 shot which killed Doyle to put into plain words 
 what your suspicions really mean, Mrs. Fraser 
 why did you say that the motive for his murder 
 might have been other than the errand which 
 brought him here, that some one else among you 
 might have had a different cause to fear the 
 presence of a detective?" 
 
 She looked genuinely distressed. "I I scarcely 
 know ! ' ' she said. * l Naturally I was curious why
 
 178 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 a detective should have been installed in our 
 peaceful little club without the knowledge of the 
 majority of the members in the first place, and, 
 in casting about in my own mind, I could think of 
 only two reasons which might be even remotely 
 possible ; theft, or some impending social scandal. 
 None of those on the opposite side of the hall, 
 when the lights were lowered, could have been 
 thought of as guilty of the former, for the steward 
 is the essence of integrity, and the rest were all 
 members like ourselves. As for scandal sordid 
 enough to reach the divorce courts, I mean that 
 is equally unthinkable. I had a vague idea, with- 
 out an iota of knowledge to back it up, that some 
 one might have had a private reason, quite apart 
 from our lives out here, for fearing Doyle's pres- 
 ence. Of course it is the most probable thing, 
 isn't it, that, in the darkness, some stranger stole 
 up from the rear hall beside the staircase " 
 
 It was Crane's turn to shake his head. "And 
 going out into the center of the hall, fired that 
 shot which seemed to come from up in the air? 
 No, Mrs. Fraser, I think we must dismiss that as 
 even a possibility. But, if you know of no scandal 
 and no theft, may I ask why you thought Doyle 
 was sent out here?" 
 
 "Well, there have been a series of petty thefts,
 
 THE SHOT FEOM THE AIR 179 
 
 I believe, from the men's lookers. Besides, minor 
 complaints have been made about the way the 
 club accounts were kept during the summer. Our 
 real clubhouse secretary left very suddenly and 
 supposedly went West for his health, just before 
 Mr. Doyle appeared among us, you know, and, 
 although I had no more reason to suspect him 
 of dishonesty than my own husband, I cannot 
 think of any other reason for Doyle 's having been 
 engaged to come to Broadlawns at all." 
 
 "Mrs. Fraser" Crane paused at the doorway, 
 to which she had accompanied him "you will 
 learn at the inquest why my colleague was sum- 
 moned here, and, in the meantime, I want to thank 
 you for being as candid with me as you have. 
 I will promise you to keep your confidence. ' ' 
 
 "I may have been indiscreet, but I told you 
 only what I thought it was my duty to disclose, 
 even though I may have been mistaken about that 
 little flash of light," she responded. "If it is not 
 necessary I do hope that you will not mention my 
 silly little suspicions to any one." 
 
 He promised and took his departure, but, as he 
 turned his flivver into the road that led to the 
 club, the detective realized that his clear-eyed, 
 level-headed hostess had told him as much as she 
 dared of her real suspicions, that she would not
 
 180 THE TKIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 have mentioned them had they been either petty 
 or silly, and that in her he had discovered a pos- 
 sible ally who might prove as valuable as Estridge 
 himself. 
 
 He had started out that morning without a pos- 
 sible clew to guide him. Now he was returning to 
 the club with a multiplicity of vague indicatioDs 
 which pointed in so many different directions that 
 he scarcely knew which to endeavor to trace first. 
 
 Why had Mrs. Sowerby lied and claimed to have 
 been in the conservatory? In reality had she been 
 upstairs at the moment the fatal shot was fired? 
 What was the secret which Dorrance had threat- 
 ened to divulge concerning Mrs. Carter, and 
 whence had come her sudden decision to leave 
 Broadlawns? 
 
 Aside from these questions, however, two others 
 had presented themselves to Crane's mind. These 
 he determined to have settled without loss of time 
 by his operatives. One was borne of a too hasty 
 reply in the coroner's cottage that morning, and 
 this question was unconsciously attested to by a 
 remark of the lady whom he had just left; the 
 second was the result of a ray of sunlight strik- 
 ing through the bare branches of trees. 
 
 On his arrival at the club he found a group of 
 men, among them Rutherford Sowerby and the
 
 THE SHOT FROM THE AIR 181 
 
 Fraser brothers, evidently awaiting him on the 
 veranda, but, with a wave of his hand in greet- 
 ing, he kept on around the drive to the rear. 
 There the ubiquitous Murdook hastened out to 
 him before he had fairly alighted, and he re- 
 quested that the two men, who had come out with 
 him from the agency, be summoned. 
 
 " Walsh," he began without ceremony to the 
 younger of his operatives, "I want you to catch 
 the next train into town the club bus will take 
 you to the station. I may want my own car here 
 as well as this flivver. Go straight to the old man 
 and tell him I want you to go to Charlotte, North 
 Carolina. Find out all you can about a young 
 girl who lived there eleven years ago, an orphan 
 named Nina Shirley, who married a rich, elderly 
 man named Asa Carter and went to live on an 
 estate near Mosely, a village not far from 
 Raleigh." 
 
 Walsh, who had evidently been hearing the gos- 
 sip of the club servants, smiled knowingly. "I get 
 you, sir," he answered. "Tall, good-looking 
 vamp with red hair pulled down tight over her 
 ears. ' ' 
 
 "Not red hair black!" Crane interrupted him 
 brusquely. "I don't believe it was red until she 
 came North, Walsh. Find out, if you can, why
 
 182 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 she wears it in that fashion ; I think there may be 
 a reason with a story behind it." 
 
 After he had concluded his instructions and 
 Walsh had departed Crane turned to the other 
 operative. ' ' Jewett, without asking any questions 
 of anybody or making yourself too conspicuous, I 
 want you to nose around the clubhouse and see if 
 you can find in the wall of either the big, round 
 entrance hall or the conservatory the mark of a 
 single bullet hole." 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Crane." Jewett spoke as stolidly as 
 though he had been asked to find a package of 
 cigarettes. "About how large caliber a bullet 
 would it be?" 
 
 "Unless I am very much mistaken, Jewett, it 
 will be of the smallest caliber known .22, and you 
 will find the mark of it considerably higher than 
 your head."
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 "l KILLED HIM" 
 
 * {'IK 7"ELL, Mr. Crane, have you been making 
 
 much progress f ' ' Rutherford Sowerby 
 
 demanded. The detective had joined him and the 
 
 Fraser brothers on the veranda, a few minutes 
 
 later. 
 
 Crane shook his head noncommittally. "I 
 can't tell just yet, Mr. Sowerby. I stopped at 
 your house this morning, and, although you were 
 not there, Mrs. Sowerby very kindly received me. ' ' 
 
 "What!" demanded the ungallant husband. 
 "A fat lot of valuable clews she could give you! 
 All the gossip and petty scandal of the neighbor- 
 hood!" 
 
 1 'It wasn't what Mrs. Sowerby told me, so much 
 as what she did not tell me, which I found of 
 partial interest in regard to the case." Crane 
 smiled and turned to the younger of the Fraser 
 brothers. " Everybody is most hospitable to me 
 out here. I had lunch with Mr. Estridge, and just 
 
 183
 
 184 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 now, Mr. Fraser, your wife gave me a very delight- 
 ful cup of tea." As he spoke, however, the de- 
 tective looked beyond Jack Fraser to the latter 's 
 brother-in-law and observed that Ralph Fraser 's 
 face had turned a dull, brick red. 
 
 "Did she give you any information of value? 
 By Jove, I wish she or some one could!" Jack 
 Fraser exclaimed. 1 1 Aside from all selfish notions 
 about the scandal of the thing and its reactions 
 upon all of us here, more or less, it is the con- 
 founded mystery and the cowardly way the poor 
 fellow was done to death that gets me ! Of course, 
 except for my brother here " 
 
 "Oh, don't mind me!" Ralph Fraser rejoined. 
 "I'm only an outsider; you three know why he 
 was brought down in the first place and that ought 
 to give you a line on the man who killed him. 
 You can mark my words, though ; this inquest of 
 yours out here on Monday won't amount to a hill 
 of beans. I'll watch the papers for the real re- 
 sults when I get back to Texas and Mr. Crane 
 has had a chance to work out the case." 
 
 "I hope to work out some minor details, at least, 
 in connection with it before that, Mr. Fraser," 
 Crane remarked. 
 
 "Unless mv brother is held as a material wit-
 
 "I KILLED HIM" 185 
 
 ness, which seems a most remote contingency, he 
 has decided to go directly home again." Jack 
 Fraser turned to the bank president as he spoke. 
 1 * It will disappoint Elsie a lot, for she had looked 
 forward to converting him to golf during this 
 visit. But, after this tragedy, of course, the club 
 will be closed for the autumn and winter, at least. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Yes, ' ' Ralph assented somewhat grimly, ' * after 
 I let a clerk in a sporting-goods store sell me a 
 mail bag full of dinky little clubs and a couple of 
 boxes of balls ! ' ' 
 
 "That is one funny thing about it!" Jack 
 laughed. "If you happen to be a novice and you 
 leave it to those chaps they usually load you up 
 with all sorts of useless things, but the one who 
 sold you that outfit of yours, Ealph, must have 
 been caught napping, for he left out one of the 
 most essential, if not the most essential, of the 
 lot! I went through your bag at the house this 
 morning and found that you have no driver!" 
 
 "Thought you brought your golf bag with you 
 when you came over to the dance last night, Fra- 
 ser," Sowerby remarked. "I've got a battered 
 old driver that you can use, if they keep the course 
 open. Don't play any more myself since I broke 
 my ankle in that motor accident, a year ago, though
 
 186 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 my wife will persist in calling it gout ! However, 
 we're getting away from the main issue. About 
 that shot last night, Mr. Crane " 
 
 But Renwick Crane had slipped away quietly, 
 without a word of excuse or apology, and, saun- 
 tering past the conservatory, where Jewett was 
 painstakingly looking for the microscopic bullet 
 hole, he found his way to the locker room at the 
 rear. Its sole occupant was a slim, but athletic- 
 appearing, young man in the late twenties. A 
 healthily tanned, smooth-shaven countenance 
 turned in eager curiosity to the detective. ' l Hello, 
 Mr. Crane! How are things coming with your 
 investigation? I guess you don't remember me, 
 meeting such a crowd of us here last evening." 
 
 "Yes, I do," Crane said. "You are the Fra- 
 sers' friend, Mr. Landon, aren't you! You stood 
 in the entrance to the conservatory when that shot 
 was fired, I think you told us." 
 
 The young man nodded. "Funny thing about 
 that," he remarked. "It must have been my 
 nerves, of course, but I am in pretty fair condi- 
 tion and not usually jumpy. I could not actually 
 have heard that bullet strike Doyle's body, even 
 without the roar of the shot still pounding in my 
 ears, but I could swear that I heard a dull sort 
 of 'ping,' right near me, at the same instant that
 
 "I KILLED HIM" 187 
 
 the revolver must have been fired. I suppose I 
 was closer to that window, where Doyle was stand- 
 ing, than anybody else, but not close enough to 
 hear the whir of the bullet, let alone the impact 
 when it found its mark. Odd, isn't it?" 
 
 "Very!" The detective spoke dryly, but the 
 blood leaped suddenly in his veins. "I have 
 found it to be my experience that imagination 
 plays strange tricks with the most normal of us 
 in moments of tense excitement. The entrance to 
 the conservatory is wide ; were you standing nearer 
 the windows, or more toward your right, where 
 the Frasers and Miss Dare were standing?" 
 
 Gerald Landon bent once more over the golf 
 bag and the clubs he was examining, but not 
 quickly enough to hide the boyish flush which 
 mounted to his brow. "I was standing toward 
 the left of the conservatory entrance, with my 
 back almost turned to the windows of the rotunda 
 which look out upon the veranda," he replied 
 frankly. "I happened to be looking straight at 
 the group of people you mentioned when the sound 
 of the shot came." 
 
 "Then you saw nothing else at that instant? 
 No sudden flash of light across your eyes, for in- 
 stance?" 
 
 "No, Mr. Crane, not until the hubbub arose and
 
 188 THE TEIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 all the lights were turned on full. I can tell you 
 that, in spite of all that I went through overseas, 
 I had a sickish minute when I ran out on the ver- 
 anda with the others and saw that poor chap ly- 
 ing there! I liked him, and I believe that I got 
 to be more chummy with him than any of the mem- 
 bers of the club. I'm only a guest here, and, of 
 course, I had no more suspicion of his real identity 
 than those of the rest of us." Landon glanced 
 up with a whimsical twinkle in his eyes. "May- 
 be he suspected me, though, of whatever it was he 
 came out here to investigate! I don't think so, 
 for it seems to me that it was I who sought his 
 society, and he was a quiet sort of fellow; never 
 talked much or asked a single question that I can 
 remember. I used to drag him out to play a 
 round of golf with me now and then. Just think 
 of it ! He handled this very driver many a time ! ' ' 
 
 As he spoke the young man held out a golf 
 club, and Crane took it and examined it gravely, 
 mentally noting its weight and shape and general 
 difference from the others in Landon 's bag. He 
 handed it back and asked casually: "Haven't seen 
 an odd driver lying about here anywhere, have 
 you?" 
 
 "No. I'm just sorting out my own clubs from 
 Jack's, for I've played my last round of the sea-
 
 "I KILLED HIM" 189 
 
 son. As soon as the inquest is over I shall be off 
 for town." 
 
 Crane sauntered leisurely around the room, idly 
 examining such lockers as were open, with the air 
 of an interested visitor, but his keen, darting 
 glance missed nothing. Then, with a nod to Lan- 
 don, he strolled back into the rotunda once more 
 and to the left of the conservatory entrance. 
 
 Jewett, who was still pottering about within, 
 suddenly heard a low, peculiar whistle. He hur- 
 ried out to find his superior eying, with great ab- 
 sorption, a small spot in the oak paneling of the 
 wall, just above his head. 
 
 " That's just a wormhole; I saw it before," 
 Jewett remarked. " There are plenty more of 
 them in the paneling on the other side of the en- 
 trance. The steward told me that these panels 
 were very old and were brought from some other 
 building and set in here." 
 
 * ' Wormhole, is it ? " retorted Crane. ' * I Ve seen 
 antique oak before, but I never saw a wormhole 
 like freshly bored wood, nor one that dropped a 
 grain or two of new sawdust. Look down at your 
 feet." 
 
 The operative did so and uttered an exclamation 
 of amazed vexation, as the yellowish specks 
 glinted back at him from the floor which had been
 
 190 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 highly waxed for the dance of the previous night. 
 
 "That's what comes of taking things for 
 granted. It explains, also, why I am still in the 
 old rut, though years longer with the old man than 
 you, Crane ! " he declared. * ' I did notice that hole 
 up there, but I had examined the others pretty 
 thoroughly first, and I didn't think it would be 
 Y.*~ "* ': while to probe this one." 
 
 tone was so crestfallen that Crane withheld 
 a rebuke and merely said: "Get a chair with a 
 wooden seat and lend me your penknife ; its blade 
 is longer than mine. Look sharp, Jewett, before 
 that group on the veranda are wise to what we are 
 doing. Never mind about excuses now; we all 
 make mistakes." 
 
 Jewett obeyed with alacrity, and, mounting the 
 chair, his superior took from him the knife with 
 its keen, narrow blade and began twisting it in 
 the tiny hole which marred the time-mellowed 
 grain of the ancient wood. 
 
 Grain after grain of sawdust fell until, as the 
 probe ground deeper, it began pouring in a con- 
 tinuous trickle upon the chair and floor. The 
 early dusk was already dimming the spacious hall, 
 and Crane worked quickly to end his task before 
 Murdock appeared to turn on the lights. At last 
 he felt the point of the knife grate against some-
 
 "I KILLED HIM" 191 
 
 thing metallic, and, with, a muttered exclamation 
 of satisfaction, he began twisting the blade in a 
 wider circle. 
 
 "Strike something?" asked Jewett, his stolidity 
 gone. 
 
 "I think so," Crane responded cautiously in an 
 undertone. "That bunch still out on the porch?" 
 
 "Yes. There were only three of them before, 
 but now there are a couple more, ' ' reported Jewett 
 after reconnoitering. "They seem to be moving 
 toward the door now; I guess they're breaking 
 up. What's that? Got it?" 
 
 Crane stepped down from the chair, turned it 
 about with its back to the wall and slid it quickly 
 along the floor to a distance of several feet from 
 the betraying hole. Then, closing the knife, he 
 motioned Jewett to follow him and slipped into the 
 conservatory. It was only when they were se- 
 curely hidden from view behind a cluster of screen- 
 ing shrubs that he held out his hand to his com- 
 panion. Upon the palm a diminutive globule of 
 steel winked wickedly back at them. 
 
 "What's it mean?" Jewett demanded in a whis- 
 per and proceeded to answer himself. "There 
 was two shots fired last night, and they were from 
 different revolvers. Where's the one this came 
 from?"
 
 192 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 "I don't know yet, but I think that when we 
 find it and I am certain that it is still about the 
 club somewhere it will prove to be the oddest- 
 looking weapon of its size that you ever came 
 across. I am going to look about, and, in the 
 meantime, I want you to find that steward. Don't 
 let him out of your sight until I send for you." 
 
 "No fear if you mean that Murdock!" retorted 
 Jewett. " He 's been tailing me all day ; I couldn 't 
 lose him for a minute, and the questions he 's been 
 asking me would fill a book. There that must 
 be him, now!" 
 
 During his speech the lights had sprung up in 
 the huge circular hall, which they had just left, 
 and Crane dropped the bullet into his vest pocket 
 and handed the knife hastily to his companion. 
 
 "Here, Jewett, you go out first and talk to him 
 about anything under the sun except what we've 
 just found. Get him away to the locker room 
 or pantries on some pretext, so that I can beat 
 it out of here without his knowing that we have 
 been consulting together." 
 
 "All right, Mr. Crane." Jewett grinned and 
 added: "Judging by his complexion, I've a pre- 
 text in my hip pocket that will make him go off 
 with me to any little quiet corner, and it 's not my 
 gat, either!"
 
 "I KILLED HIM" 193 
 
 Left alone, Crane made a careful circuit of the 
 conservatory, dodging like a shadow from one tall 
 shrub to another, sweeping aside the f anlike leaves 
 of the palms where they concealed the floor. He 
 looked searchingly into every corner, but with no 
 success. Finally he emerged and was instantly 
 hailed by a cluster of men who had gathered be- 
 fore the log fire on the hearth. Beside the Fra- 
 sers and Eutherford Sowerby the group now in- 
 cluded Samuel Estridge and a dapper young man 
 in a Tuxedo, whom the detective recognized as 
 Mrs. Carter's companion of that morning in the 
 glen. 
 
 Crane strolled over to them, and Estridge pre- 
 sented him to Mr. Philip Dorrance, who expressed 
 his pleasure with an obviously nervous little 
 cough. * l Just dropped in for a minute to see how 
 the investigation into that sad affair of last night 
 was getting on, Mr. Crane," he explained. He 
 was slightly flushed, and his pale, prominent blue 
 eyes gleamed with a sort of triumphant excite- 
 ment. "Have to be trotting along in a few sec- 
 onds. My wife and I are dining out this evening 
 with some friends down toward Eosemere, and 
 we must motor several miles. She sent me I 
 mean I came to learn if anything had been accom- 
 plished toward solving the mystery."
 
 194 THE TEIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 His loquacity and overcordiality made the de- 
 tective wonder for a moment whether or not he 
 was exhilarated solely by his nervous sensibility. 
 
 "I do not know the method of procedure fol- 
 lowed by the local authorities, Mr. Dorrance, nor 
 whether they are in the habit of disclosing the 
 initial steps of their progress or not, but we do 
 not discuss the possible clews, which we have ob- 
 tained in a case, until We have reached definite 
 results." Crane spoke in a pleasant tone, but 
 the meaning of his words sunk in, and Dorrance 's 
 flush deepened. 
 
 "Perhaps it would have been better for this fel- 
 low Grant, or Doyle, if he had taken some one into 
 his confidence/' he replied. 
 
 "We are going to close the club on Monday for 
 an indefinite period," Estridge announced hur- 
 riedly to Crane. "Of course Murdock will remain 
 here in charge, and an outside man or two will be 
 kept, but the waiters and under-stewards will go. 
 I don't imagine that any of us will care to gather 
 here again until the spring comes. Sowerby and 
 I are going to dine here to-night, and, if you would 
 care to join us " 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Estridge, you gentlemen are 
 both very kind, but I have work to do and shall 
 have time only for a hurried meal. If you will ex-
 
 "I KILLED HIM" 195 
 
 cuse me now " The detective was retreating 
 
 as gracefully as possible when Jack Eraser called 
 after him : ' ' None of us are going just yet, except 
 Mr. Dorrance, If you will come into the locker 
 room a little later perhaps we can show you some- 
 thing that will merit further investigation on your 
 part!" 
 
 Crane laughed and shook his head as he disap- 
 peared into the billiard room, but the laughter 
 died from his lips When the door had closed behind 
 him, and he relaxed for a moment upon the leather 
 seat which ran around the wall. For the first 
 time he felt the inertia of mental and physical 
 fatigue. He had frequently worked for days and 
 nights without sleep, but then there had been some 
 definite lead for him to go upon; now all real 
 clews seemed to be lost in a maze of small talk 
 and gossip of a snobbish community where not 
 even death by violence was taken seriously and 
 each person appeared to care only for his neigh- 
 bor's opinion. 
 
 Then the detective's hand crept up to his vest 
 pocket, and he roused himself. The bullet, which 
 reposed there, had not killed his colleague, but if 
 he could discover whether it had been sped by ac- 
 cident or design, he would have gone a long way 
 toward simplifying the apparent multiplicity of
 
 196 THE TEIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 possible motives for the murder. Mrs. Fraser's 
 keen wits had probed to the depths of the mystery 
 without her even having knowledge of the loss of 
 Mrs. de Forest's necklace; surely he, with his 
 training and experience, was not to be baffled 
 now! 
 
 Rising, he began pacing back and forth in the 
 narrow aisle between two pool tables, his mind 
 alert once more. Where, in the short space of a 
 minute or two at most, could any one have gone 
 from the farther side of the hall, whence had come 
 that tiny flash of light when the shot rang out, and 
 where, unobserved or unnoted, had he or she con- 
 cealed so cumbersome an object as that which he 
 sought? Not upstairs, for Mrs. Carter's pres- 
 ence upon the lowest step guarded that domain; 
 not out to the rear of the club where a host of gos- 
 siping servants would have been waiting with curi- 
 ous eyes and prattling tongues, nor upon the ve- 
 randa with its excited group about the dead man. 
 
 Neither could the weapon have been concealed 
 in the conservatory nor locker room, for he had 
 already searched both. What hiding place for it, 
 then, remained? 
 
 Crane's eyes were lowered in thought as he 
 paced reflectively to and fro. Suddenly he 
 paused, and the question in his mind was answered
 
 "I KILLED HIM" 197 
 
 at last. From beneath one of the tables, resting 
 upon the bracket provided for it, protruded the 
 handle of the bridge used in making difficult shots. 
 From the corresponding bracket, under the edge 
 of the other table, there appeared a handle of 
 quite another kind. 
 
 It was a grip of leather and slanted at a sharp 
 angle which denoted its unusual brevity when 
 compared to the ordinary bridge. Crane stooped 
 and glanced beneath the table, then closed his 
 fingers gingerly about the leather grip and drew 
 forth a new golf club of highly polished, but sing- 
 ularly heavy wood. 
 
 Meanwhile the group about the fireplace in the 
 great hall remained intact. Young Dorrance 
 seemed to have forgotten his announced intention 
 of immediate departure and was holding forth 
 sarcastically about the ability of all detectives, 
 official and private. Only the Frasers disputed 
 with him, for Sowerby and Estridge were con- 
 versing aside in lowered tones, but all five wiere so 
 deeply engrossed that they failed to observe the 
 cat-footed Murdock when he took his accustomed 
 place behind his desk. A tall, ungainly stranger, 
 with whom he appeared to be upon the best of 
 terms, lounged confidentially across the counter. 
 
 Neither did any of them become aware of the
 
 198 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 reappearance of Crane. He passed them silently, 
 one hand held behind him, and joined the two at 
 the steward's desk. Jewett glanced in quick in- 
 quiry at his superior, and, when the latter nod- 
 ded, he stepped aside and, entering the little office, 
 he took up his stand directly behind Murdock, but 
 the steward was oblivious to his presence. 
 
 He stood as though transfixed, gazing with a 
 sort of horror at the golf club which the detective 
 laid upon the counter before him, and it was only 
 when Crane's voice, grown swiftly stern, rang 
 out through the hall that the five men by the hearth 
 ceased their several discussions and moved instinc- 
 tively forward. 
 
 "Murdock, is this the golf club with which you 
 reached out to touch that passing waiter last 
 night, at the moment when the shot was fired?" 
 
 "I I don't know, sir!" the wretched steward 
 exclaimed. "I told you, sir, that I shouldn't be 
 able to tell if I saw it again!" 
 
 "You put it back in the bag beneath the counter 
 before you vaulted over and out to the veranda, 
 to where Doyle's body lay?" 
 
 "Y yes, sir!" 
 
 ' ' Then how do you explain its presence, in place 
 of one of the bridges, under a pool table in the 
 billiard room?"
 
 "I KILLED HIM" 199 
 
 "I haven't the least idea, sir. The bag and 
 all were gone when I tried to show it to you, if 
 you recall, sir!" Murdock's ruddy face had 
 blanched, and he was trembling visibly. 
 
 "Perhaps you could tell if this were the same 
 club or not by taking it up and flourishing it as 
 you did last night, Murdock." A note of com- 
 mand had entered the detective's tones. "Grasp 
 it by the head." 
 
 ' ' But I didn 't, sir ! " The steward 's pallid face 
 took on a waxen hue. "I must have lifted it 
 from the bag by the head, of course, but I swung 
 it out by the grip. I now that I look at it, sir, 
 I am positive that this is not the same." 
 
 "Try it and see." Crane's inexorable voice 
 directed. "Take up that driver and show me 
 just what you did last night ! ' ' 
 
 Murdock glanced about him wildly for a means 
 of escape, and for the first time he became aware 
 of the five men who had ranged themselves behind 
 the detective. One of them uttered a startled ex- 
 clamation and advanced a step or two, but at that 
 moment the steward broke down. 
 
 "I can't, sir!" he said. "It's no use for me 
 to bluff any longer! May God forgive me I 
 killed him!"
 
 CHAPTER XHI 
 
 THE DKIVER OF DEATH 
 
 T TIS dramatic confession of the murder ended 
 in a cry that echoed back from the high- 
 arched ceiling of the hall, and Murdock collapsed 
 and would have fallen to the floor had not Jewett 
 grasped him beneath the arms from behind and 
 supported him to the chair beside the small safe. 
 
 Of the five men, standing back of Crane on the 
 other side of the steward's desk, only Samuel 
 Estridge strode forward. "You, Murdock?" he 
 exclaimed. "That's stuff and nonsense! You 
 never killed Doyle you haven't the nerve to harm 
 a flea!" 
 
 Jack Fraser cast a swift, troubled glance at his 
 brother, whose face was a study. Ralph Fraser 
 stood immovable, without meeting his eyes. 
 Philip Dorrance had fallen back, his weak mouth 
 beneath the small, sleek mustache, working like 
 
 that of a rabbit in his startled amazement, and 
 
 200
 
 THE DRIVER OF DEATH 201 
 
 old Rutherford Sowerby sputtered and snorted, 
 but no words would come. 
 
 The steward had buried his face in his hands 
 and was swaying back and forth. Deep sobs 
 racked him. It was doubtful if he even heard the 
 famous criminal lawyer's expostulation, but, when 
 Crane spoke, the questions penetrated to his all 
 but distraught brain. 
 
 * ' If you shot Doyle how did you do it, Murdock f 
 What motive had you?" 
 
 "None, sir, I swear it!" Murdock raised a 
 face suddenly grown old and haggard. "I don't 
 know how I shot him. I never meant to do it! 
 It was that devil's machine which you just laid 
 on my desk there, sir that thing that looks like 
 a driver. It 's some kind of a gun, and it went off 
 in my hands ! ' ' 
 
 "Not a devil's machine, but merely, I think, a 
 cleverly concealed weapon of unique design." 
 Crane turned suddenly and faced Ralph Fraser. 
 "It is the driver missing from your set of clubs, 
 is it not, Mr. Fraser? A driver which projects 
 not golf balls, but these!" 
 
 He held out upon his open hand the tiny steel 
 bullet which he had pried from the oak paneling, 
 and Ralph Fraser squared his shoulders and came 
 forward.
 
 202 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 "Yes, it is mine," lie said. "I brought it as a 
 surprise for my brother and his friends to see, 
 and I never thought that an accident like this 
 could occur ! I had a mighty bad time of it after 
 that shot sounded in my ears, I can tell you, but 
 it didn't " 
 
 "How was I to know he was a detective!" asked 
 Murdock. He was too perturbed to grasp the 
 significance of the interrupted sentence. 1 1 1 never 
 did know for sure until last night, but I suspected 
 him from the very first day he came, and we began 
 going over the books together. When they bring 
 them into court, and it's proved how I've been 
 changing the accounts right along, thieving every- 
 where I could, nobody ever will believe that I 
 didn't know what that thing was that I didn't 
 pick it up and shoot purposely at him when the 
 lights were out!" 
 
 "What's that!" Sowerby found his voice and 
 emitted it in a sudden roar, as he stepped forward. 
 "What's that about your falsifying the accounts, 
 Murdock, and embezzling from the club?" 
 
 "It's true, sir, all of it!" Murdock replied. 
 "All but that I meant to kill the man you put on 
 my track ! I 'd have run away, maybe, but I never 
 wbuld have harmed him." 
 
 "Oh, I can't stand this!" Ralph Fraser broke
 
 THE DRIVER OF DEATH 203 
 
 in impetuously. "What's the good of torturing 
 the fellow? Crane, here, knows as well as I do 
 that he's inno " 
 
 "Stop!" The detective spoke in a peremptory 
 undertone. "We'll get the confession of what 
 he did do, Mr. Fraser, before we reassure him as 
 to what he didn't do." 
 
 * * What did you do it for, Murdock f ' ' Estridge 's 
 persuasive voice sounded before the indignant 
 Sowerby could bellow again. "You've been with 
 us ever since we founded the club, and we trusted 
 you as we would have trusted each other. You 
 never complained about the amount of your salary. 
 How much have you taken from us, and how long 
 has this been going on?" 
 
 "For a little more than a year, sir, and I've 
 kept account of every penny, meaning that you 
 should have it back from my life insurance." 
 Murdock 's usually impassive countenance was 
 working with emotion. "I knew how I was 
 trusted, and I couldn't sleep nights with the shame 
 of it, but none of you seemed to miss the money, 
 so it didn't make me feel as bad after a time, and 
 I went on taking more and more! I've had a 
 matter of over two thousand dollars from the 
 club since I started to run crooked, and nobody 
 suspected, not even the last secretary, Martin. An
 
 204 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 increase of salary wouldn't have helped, you see, 
 sir ; I had to have more than that, but I 'd counted 
 the cost, like any careful man would, and, if I 
 was caught, I'd meant to take my medicine. I 
 never intended to harm a hair of Doyle's head!" 
 
 "May I interfere for a moment, Mr. Estridge?" 
 asked Crane. "I know this particular matter is 
 not my province, but, in a way, it is connected 
 with the case upon which I am working." 
 
 "Certainly, Crane. Go ahead," the lawyer re- 
 sponded briefly after a keen, searching glance at 
 the other's face. 
 
 "Murdock, you say that you have kept account 
 of every penny which you have stolen from the 
 members of this club. Where is this account?" 
 
 "Here, sir!" Murdock thrust a trembling hand 
 in his breast pocket and drew forth a little red 
 notebook. Jewett took it from him and passed it 
 across the counter to Crane. "It's got the amount 
 and the date and the page on the club books where 
 I changed each item. I'm glad I've told, for it 
 is a load off my mind; but if only you could 
 believe that I never knew what that deadly thing 
 was when I picked it at random from the bag 
 at my feet ! 'Twas not me that killed Doyle ! It 
 was the devil himself that sped the shot!" 
 
 "No, Murdock, you did not kill Doyle! The
 
 THE DRIVER OF DEATH 205 
 
 bullet, which flew from this concealed revolver 
 when you accidentally released the firing pin in 
 the head of the club is this bullet which I hold in 
 my hand. See!" He held out the little steel 
 globule. "It harmed no one, but imbedded itself 
 in the oak paneling over there. " 
 
 Amid amazed exclamations from all, except 
 Ralph Fraser and Jewett, Murdock started from 
 his chair with protruding eyes. 
 
 1 i You you mean that, sir ? " he asked hoarsely. 
 "It's the truth you are telling me? I didn't kill 
 him, after all? Oh! Thank God! Thank God!" 
 
 He sank back in his chair and buried his face 
 in his hands, sobbing aloud in the reaction of re- 
 lief, while the others crowded around Crane with 
 excited questions. 
 
 "What does this mean?" Sowerby's voice rose 
 above the rest. 
 
 "It means, gentlemen, that two shots were fired 
 simultaneously, this one, by the miracle of acci- 
 dent, going off at the same instant as the other. 
 But I will explain later. Murdock, the story you 
 told me was partly the truth, then?" 
 
 "Yes, sir, partly." Murdock wiped his eyes 
 and straightened in his chair. "I told you the 
 truth, but not all of it. The lights were lowered, 
 and the singing was going on. I saw that waiter
 
 206 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 from the caterer's starting to pass my desk on 
 his way to the supper room. Thinking to stop him 
 from disturbing a minute that was as sacred as 
 church, I reached down into the golf bag. Some- 
 body had left it under the counter for safe-keep- 
 ing, instead of taking it to the locker room where 
 it properly belonged. This instrument of Satan 
 was the first stick which came to my hand, and I 
 took hold of it, without looking, and drew it out. I 
 only meant to tap the fellow on the arm with it 
 and motion him back, and it all happened in a 
 minute, though it takes long to tell it. As I 
 grabbed it I must have flourished it in the air, 
 for I felt something jump under the head, there 
 was a wee flash of light in front of me, and then 
 there came a crash fit to wake the dead. You 
 gentlemen all know what happened after that ; the 
 sound of something falling outside and the excite- 
 ment and the lights going up once more and every- 
 body crowding out on the veranda. I rushed out 
 with the rest, but, when I saw what I'd done 
 or thought, until a minute ago, that I'd done 
 something seemed to die inside of me, too, and 
 then I remembered that I still had in my hand the 
 thing that had fired the shot. I was fairly crazed 
 to get rid of it, and there wasn't time to put it 
 back in the bag. Before anybody took hold of the
 
 THE DRIVER OF DEATH 207 
 
 affair and began to give orders I ran back into 
 the billiard room and pushed the club under one 
 of the tables, with the grip leaning on an empty 
 bridge rest. No one missed me or knew that I 
 had touched any of the clubs under my desk, until 
 Mr. Crane suspected." 
 
 "You changed the books and stole from our 
 accounts," Estridge observed, as though he had 
 not been following the explanation of the previous 
 night 's event. * * Did you pilfer anything from the 
 lockers, or the ladies' dressing rooms, or pick up 
 any articles of value that the members may have 
 dropped ? ' ' 
 
 "No, sir. I've found things from time to time, 
 like Mr. Sowerby's scarf pin and Mrs. Dorrance's 
 gold bag, but they 've always been promptly posted 
 on the bulletin board," responded Murdock. 
 "Somehow it didn't seem like stealing, just to 
 alter the books, especially as none of you missed 
 the few dollars that meant so much to me. ' ' 
 
 "Then you have never retained unlawful posses- 
 sion of anything belonging to a club member, 
 whether its disappearance was mentioned or not?" 
 the lawyer asked. 
 
 "Never, sir. I I've told you everything. I 
 can't restore the money now, but I'm ready to 
 make whatever amends you gentlemen and the
 
 208 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 law require of me. ' ' He buried his head again in 
 his hands. "I might have known that I would be 
 caught, sooner or later, but I had no choice." 
 
 "Why?" Estridge asked again. "Why have 
 you needed so much extra money during this past 
 year? After your years of faithful service, Mur- 
 dock, why didn't you come to one of us for a 
 loan?" 
 
 "I couldn't, sir, without explaining what I 
 wanted it for, and that would have been as much 
 as my position here was worth. Besides I ex- 
 pected each month to recoup. ' ' 
 
 1 1 You were gambling ? ' ' The lawyer 's tone was 
 sharpened with incredulity, and even Sowerby 
 looked his amazement. Murdock's native Scotch 
 thrift and canniness had become proverbial around 
 the club. 
 
 "Well, sir, you might call it that, in a manner 
 of speaking." The steward hesitated. "I I 
 acted on some tips which came my way in a fashion 
 that I can't explain, and I won just enough now 
 and then to make me keep on, thinking that one 
 more, a flyer would not only let me put back all 
 I had taken, but leave me a bit more." 
 
 " 'A flyer!' " repeated Sowerby. "You were 
 playing the stock market, Murdock? Who gave
 
 THE DRIVER OF DEATH 209 
 
 you the tips? If you are frank with us we may 
 come to some arrangement." 
 
 Murdock shook his head, and his rugged jaw set. 
 ' ' I 'm sorry, sir, ' ' he said decidedly. * ' All my own 
 savings went with what I took from the club 
 accounts, or I could make a partial restitution. 
 It was the stock market, but I can't tell you where 
 the tips came from, nor how I got them. 'Twas 
 my own savings that went first, before I thought 
 of tampering with the books, but well I know that 
 is no excuse. There's nothing more that I can 
 say, sir. I've confessed, and I'm ready to go to 
 prison." 
 
 Motioning to Jewett to stand guard over him, 
 Crane turned to the others. ' ' Gentlemen, we have 
 just time for a brief conference before your dinner 
 engagements. Shall we adjoin to the billiard 
 room?" 
 
 "Not I!" Philip Dorrance exclaimed in some 
 haste. "It is a wonder that my wife has not tele- 
 phoned for me before this. You won't mind, I'm 
 sure, if I trot along!" 
 
 No one evincing the slightest interest in his 
 continued presence, the young man took his depar- 
 ture, and Crane picked up the driver from the 
 desk and led the way to the billiard room.
 
 210 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 "It seems incredible!'* Jack Fraser ejaculated. 
 "I could swear that I only heard one shot. The 
 chances are a million to one against such a coin- 
 cidence. " 
 
 "The odds are not as great as that," observed 
 Estridge thoughtfully. "I have seen things 
 proved in court, in more cases than one, which 
 apparently only a miracle could have brought to 
 pass. We will have to decide later what is to be 
 done about Murdock's falsification of the accounts, 
 but I am inclined to believe his story of the acci- 
 dental shooting. Mr. Fraser can tell us if he did 
 leave his golf bag containing that freak weapon 
 behind the desk." 
 
 Ralph Fraser nodded. "I did," he affirmed. 
 "We arrived late, and, as I had that dance with 
 my sister-in-law, I did not wait to go to the locker- 
 room, but leaned over and rested my bag under 
 the counter. I didn't dream that any one would 
 molest it, for Jack had mentioned that he often 
 did this when he was in a hurry. I handed my 
 coat and hat to the nearest steward. It was 
 criminally careless of me to have left the gun 
 loaded, of course, but that was sheer vanity on my 
 part; I wanted to take it somewhere out on the 
 green to-morrow, where it would be safe, to 
 astonish my brother and you gentlemen with a
 
 THE DRIVER OF DEATH 211 
 
 little impromptu target practice. I can tell you 
 that, until the coroner stated this morning that 
 the bullet which killed your man was a .32 I've 
 been through Hades ! ' ' 
 
 "Where did you get the thing, anyway?" Jack 
 asked. "How does it work!" 
 
 * * One of the head officials of a big firearms com- 
 pany I gave him my word not to mention his 
 name, and, as no actual harm has been done 
 except to an oak panel and the nervous system of 
 the steward, to say nothing of my own, I think I 
 may be permitted to keep my promise is a bug on 
 golf, and he doped this out merely as a curiosity. 
 I happened to be in a position to do a favor for 
 him, and, knowing my hobby, he presented it to 
 me." Ralph Fraser took up the club from where 
 Crane had placed it on a billiard table. * ' Don't be 
 alarmed, gentlemen, I know how to handle it 
 safely. It really is shaped precisely like a driver, 
 you see, but there is a hollow metal tube or barrel, 
 concealed in the shaft, and, when the head is 
 pressed in a certain way, it releases a firing pin 
 which discharges a .22 caliber bullet through the 
 grip. My friend tried to work it out with a trig- 
 ger, but it wasn't practicable. I thought it a 
 mighty neat little contrivance and an interesting 
 addition to my collection, but, after last night, I
 
 212 THE TBIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 never want to see the wretched thing again!" 
 
 He laid it down once more upon the table and 
 Estridge remarked dryly: "It is ingenious, at 
 all events. I thought I had come in contact with 
 most styles of man-killing instruments in my pro- 
 fessional career, but this is unique." 
 
 "It is a devilish sort of contrivance, and I think 
 we can dispense with any further demonstration 
 of it, if you don't mind my saying so, Fraser," 
 said Sowerby. "I hope you'll keep it under your 
 eye until you get it away from the club." 
 
 "Still, you gentlemen owe Mr. Fraser a vote 
 of thanks in a way," Crane observed. "It was 
 this device of his which unwittingly scared the 
 steward into his admission of theft." 
 
 "Do you think his confession was complete?" 
 Jack Fraser asked significantly. "Granted that 
 he was unnerved he is a canny sort of rascal. Was 
 that embezzlement the only robbery which he com- 
 mitted, or attempted to commit?" 
 
 Estridge glanced in quick warning from the 
 speaker to his brother. At the same moment an 
 under-steward knocked upon the door. 
 
 "Excuse me, please, sir." His eyes wavered 
 and then rested upon the detective. "Mr. Dor- 
 ranee is on the wire for Mr. Crane. I told him
 
 THE DRIVER OF DEATH 213 
 
 that you were engaged, but he wouldn't take no 
 for an answer. He says it is most important. ' ' 
 
 "What does that little " Sowerby was be- 
 ginning, but Crane had already started for the 
 door. 
 
 "Just pardon me," he remarked, "the question 
 of Murdock is a matter for the officers of your 
 club to decide, but I cannot afford to leave a 
 possible stone unturned in the affair which brought 
 me out here. The other matter, of which three 
 of you four know, is also extraneous. I am here 
 for the sole purpose of finding the murderer of 
 Jim Doyle!"
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 TELLTALE NUMERALS 
 
 lawyer turned to the under-steward. 
 Henry, upon what telephone did Mr. Dor- 
 ranee call up?" 
 
 "The main one, sir, on Murdock's desk," Henry 
 replied. 
 
 "Perhaps Mr. Crane would prefer to have it 
 switched to one of the extensions in the locker 
 room?" the lawyer suggested. 
 
 "Isn't there an extension, also, in the office 
 which was occupied by Martin and the late er 
 Grant?" Crane had paused in the doorway. 
 
 "Yes. Would you care to use that?" asked 
 Estridge. "The office has been locked since last 
 night, but I have the key here." 
 
 "Then will you have Henry switch the call to 
 that extension, please, and cut off all other 
 connections in the club for a few minutes?" As 
 the under-steward disappeared at a nod from 
 the lawyer, Crane added: "Also, if you have the 
 
 214
 
 TELLTALE NUMERALS 215 
 
 combination to the safe in the secretary's office 
 and keys to the desk, or any other receptacles 
 which may be locked in there, I should like to 
 have them." 
 
 "I can grvse you the combination to the safe, of 
 course, unless Doyle changed it, and, although the 
 coroner must have the keys which were taken from 
 the body, I have a duplicate set here/' Estridge 
 remarked, as the two proceeded to the little office. 
 1 'Do you want to compare the accounts with the 
 memoranda in Murdock's notebook?" 
 
 1 'Only one or two items to assure myself that 
 he wasn't lying in general; the rest of his con- 
 fession doesn't interest me," responded the de- 
 tective. "I hope to find some private notes of 
 Doyle's notes intended for our agency and 
 jotted down too late to be transmitted to us." 
 
 Murdock was still seated behind his desk with 
 his head bowed in his hands, and Jewett loitered 
 near, but the steward did not look up nor appear 
 to be conscious of their presence in the rotunda, 
 as Estridge unlocked the door of the other little 
 office, and they entered, the lawyer switching on 
 the light. 
 
 "Your man was methodical and businesslike," 
 the latter observed. "When I went to O'Hare I 
 told him to send me down some one who could, at
 
 216 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 least, act the part and keep books after a fashion. 
 But that fellow would have deceived even me, had 
 I not known who he was! He might have been 
 a private secretary or bookkeeper all his life!'* 
 
 Crane smiled. * * Doyle has acted in both capac- 
 ities, at one time or another, before he came to 
 us," he said. "That was the reason why the old 
 man picked him for this case." 
 
 "But why the disguise? I am sure none of us 
 would have recognized him as he appeared when 
 it was removed." 
 
 "How sure are you?" Crane ignored the im- 
 patient insistence of the telephone extension on 
 the desk to inquire quizzically, "Have the clients 
 you have defended in court all come from the un- 
 derworld, Mr. Estridge? One would not think so, 
 judging from your financial rating." 
 
 The attorney looked startled. "Just what do 
 you mean?" 
 
 "Doyle has run to earth more than one crook 
 in the so-called smart set, and he once helped to 
 convict of murder the leading banker of a small 
 suburban community," replied the detective. 
 "Naturally, before selecting a man for your job, 
 'Hare had you all looked up as to general stand- 
 ing, and he discovered that you were all practical 
 newcomers here, Mr. Estridge. Doyle was the
 
 TELLTALE NUMERALS 217 
 
 best man for the case, but was it improbable to 
 conjecture that, among all the members of your 
 club and their transient guests, there might not be 
 one who had come into contact with him in some 
 other investigation he has conducted among people 
 of your class? The world is not so wide, as a 
 certain member of your club remarked this 
 morning. ' ' 
 
 "There's something in that," Estridge con- 
 ceded, as he turned to the door. "You'll find me 
 in the billiard room, or dining with Sowerby, if 
 you need me, Crane." 
 
 The detective reversed the key and locked him- 
 self into the cubby-hole of an office before he took 
 the receiver of the telephone from the hook. 
 
 "Hello! Crane speaking." 
 
 "What detained you all this time?" The peev- 
 ish voice of Philip Dorrance, raised to a high 
 pitch of mental strain, came to him over the wire, 
 and it seemed to the detective's keen ear that 
 deeper, but unmistakably feminine, tones mingled, 
 as in a running undercurrent, with those of the 
 speaker. "We have something of the most vital 
 importance to tell you, and my wife would like you 
 to come at once!" 
 
 "But your dinner engagement?" Crane could 
 not resist the suggestion.
 
 218 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 "Hang the dinner! We're not going! "When 
 I reached home I found that my wife had made 
 a discovery which requires the immediate services 
 of a detective, and you are the nearest. We don't 
 care what it costs. ' ' There was an odd hesitation, 
 a seeming reluctance in Dorrance's tones, in spite 
 of his insistence, and now he paused while the 
 contralto feminine voice sounded again. Tho 
 words were indistinguishable, but it was obvious 
 that he was being coached. 
 
 "If Mrs. Dorrance's discovery has no direct 
 bearing on the matter I am investigating I really 
 must decline," Crane said firmly. "0 'Hare's pri- 
 vate agency in New York, from which I came, will 
 send a man out to you on the first train if you 
 will telephone there and state the nature of your 
 prospective case. The one I am working on is of 
 more importance to me than any fee." 
 
 "But this is something that cannot be discussed 
 over the phone, and my wife thinks that it may 
 have a direct bearing on the other affair ! ' ' Dor- 
 ranee 's voice rose sharply, and, after a moment, 
 he added: "She says to tell you she is positive 
 that it will change the whole course of your inves- 
 tigation, and she is sending the motor for you." 
 
 "Thanks, but I have two cars here of my own," 
 responded the detective dryly. "Please give my
 
 TELLTALE NUMEEALS 219 
 
 compliments to Mrs. Dorrance and tell her that I 
 have one or two points to look into before I leave 
 the club. I shall be grateful for any assistance 
 she may be able to render me in this case, of 
 course, and I will be with you later. ' ' 
 
 "You must come now, man, I tell you!" The 
 wire squeaked with Dorrance 's agitation. "My 
 wife demands it ! You are wasting your time until 
 you hear what she has to tell you ! ' ' 
 
 "You will pardon me, but I must be the best 
 judge of that since the investigation is in my 
 hands," Crane retorted. "I can be with you in 
 an hour, not before. ' ' 
 
 He rang off abruptly, heedless of the sputtered 
 protestations which were choked into silence, and 
 looked about him. The desk was not unlike that 
 of a hotel office and identical with Murdock's 
 except that it ran the length of the small room, 
 with a space in front of it for the convenience of 
 members, and was in a separate apartment instead 
 of opening directly into the great hall. The 
 wicket was barred, too, but Crane quickly unlocked 
 it with a key from among those which, together 
 with a slip of paper, the attorney had placed upon 
 the counter before he passed within. 
 
 The safe was larger and of a different model 
 than that in the steward's office. As Crane had
 
 220 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 anticipated it would not open when he worked 
 the combination on the paper which Estridge had 
 left, and he glanced about for some clew to the 
 change in numbers which Doyle must have made. 
 Methodical in all things the late operative, fore- 
 seeing the possibility of an attack upon him and 
 the coming of a successor, must have prepared 
 some hint for a trained eye of the change he had 
 effected. 
 
 The first object which met his gaze was a large 
 rack for mail with numbered pigeonholes on the 
 wall above the empty chair. It was identical with 
 the rack in Murdock's office, but Crane remem- 
 bered that the latter had been new and highly 
 varnished, with envelopes protruding here and 
 there, where the members had forgotten to inquire 
 for their mail. This one was old and dusty, yet, in 
 a series of the compartments, small white cards 
 had been placed. 
 
 Carefully noting the number of the pigeonhole 
 from which he removed it, Crane picked out one 
 of the cards and found it to be, significantly 
 enough, a left-over invitation to the Harvest 
 Dance, during which Mrs. de Forest's necklace 
 had disappeared. That which interested him more, 
 however, was an annotation down in one corner in 
 hand-printed characters : ' ' L-7. ' '
 
 TELLTALE NUMERALS 221 
 
 Taking a pencil from his pocket Crane jotted 
 down after the characters the number 2 that 
 of the compartment from which he had taken the 
 card. Then he collected the others, adding the 
 numbers in turn. 
 
 There were eight cards in all. Seating himself 
 in the chair, he spread them out on the counter 
 before him like a new and unique game of soli- 
 taire. For a time he studied them with a puzzled 
 frown, then his brow cleared, and, as he rear- 
 ranged them, he whistled softly. 
 
 He had taken the card marked "L-7" from the 
 second pigeonhole; others were labeled with the 
 letter "R" before the various numbers. These 
 ranged in scattered order from 3 to 14. Assum- 
 ing that they actually represented the new com- 
 bination of the safe, Crane considered it as a first 
 supposition that "L" and "R" represented a 
 turn of the knob to the left or right as indicated ; 
 that the numbers of the pigeonholes, from which 
 he had taken them, was the order in which the 
 turns were to be made, and those upon the cards 
 themselves must correspond to the figures on the 
 dial. 
 
 This theory was further strengthened by the 
 discovery upon the last card that marked "L-6" 
 of a word faintly penciled in the same small,
 
 222 THE TEIGGEE OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 hand-printed characters; "open." Surely that 
 could only apply to the knob in the center of the 
 dial and must mean that the combination had been 
 completed ! 
 
 Crane rose and, kneeling upon the floor before 
 the safe, he spread out his cards in a row all in 
 the order of the numbered compartments in the 
 rack from which he had removed them. Arranged 
 thus they read: "R-4; L-7; B-9; L-3; E-8; L-ll; 
 R-14; L-6." Placing his ear close, he turned the 
 knob from zero to the number 4 on the right of 
 the dial and felt a glow of satisfaction as he 
 caught faintly the fall of a tumbler within. A 
 quick twist of his wrist brought the knob back to 
 number 7 on the left. In rotation through the 
 other figures, printed on the cards, each stop pro- 
 duced that scarcely audible click which assured him 
 that he was indeed upon the right track. 
 
 When the eighth number had been reached the 
 door of the safe swung open, and Crane gathered 
 up his cards before he looked within at the orderly 
 piles of ledgers and account books, each marked 
 with the month and year, with which the receptacle 
 was half filled. 
 
 Selecting two or three of the latter at random, 
 the detective took from his pocket the notebook 
 which Murdock had surrendered to him. A rapid
 
 TELLTALE NUMERALS 223 
 
 comparison of a few of the items listed by the 
 steward with the figures in the club accounts 
 proved that the latter had told the truth, in part 
 at least, and Crane laid them aside, but not before 
 ascertaining one significant fact ; since the date of 
 Doyle's arrival, a month previous, not a single 
 peculation had been committed by Murdock. 
 
 Turning once more to the safe, Crane searched 
 for the private notes of which he had spoken to 
 Estridge. He was certain that Doyle must have 
 taken notes, had anything, bearing upon his in- 
 vestigation, occurred during the last hours prior 
 to his death. Before starting from the agency in 
 town, Crane had run hastily through the brief re- 
 ports sent in by Doyle from time to time, and 
 it was evident from them that the operative 
 had obtained no definite lead regarding the 
 identity of the thief he had come to track 
 down, unless he had done so after mailing the last 
 report which had been received on the Tuesday 
 before. 
 
 In none of them had he mentioned the possi- 
 bility of an attack upon himself, but that would 
 not have been Doyle's way; he had undertaken 
 to recover the necklace and capture the thief. Any 
 physical danger incurred in the commission of a 
 case he had always persisted in regarding as his
 
 224 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 own private business and no affair of the agency, 
 in spite of O 'Hare's repeated warnings. 
 
 Crane ruffled the leaves of every ledger and 
 examined all the packets and envelopes in the 
 compartments which lined the upper part of the 
 safe, but without success. Surely Doyle must have 
 had some reason of his own for changing the com- 
 bination of the safe, and if he made any note in 
 the case, which he had not had time to post, he 
 would have secreted them in this safe. Had any 
 papers been found on the body Crane was con- 
 fident that the coroner would have mentioned them 
 to him that morning. Where could they be? 
 
 Even as he racked his brains for a solution to 
 the problem the detective noticed that the ledger 
 for the past month, which he had previously ex- 
 amined and laid beside him on the floor, did not 
 close as evenly as the rest. Taking it up again, 
 he eagerly examined the binding. The inner lining 
 of the board back had been slit at the top, and, 
 as he handled it, something rustled in the space 
 between. 
 
 Taking out his stout pocketknife, Crane ripped 
 the lining down each side, disclosing a single sheet 
 of paper which had been inserted in the aperture 
 next to the back. It was covered with disjointed
 
 TELLTALE NUMERALS 225 
 
 notes in Doyle's writing, but it was manifest that 
 they must have been jotted down in haste and 
 under a state of excitement which had been un- 
 usual to that impassive operative. Although 
 rumpled the paper was fresh, and the ink, which 
 had been used for the added lines at the bottom 
 of the page, was not as deeply black as the rest. 
 Crane spread the document out on the counter 
 and dropped into his chair. Here is what he saw : 
 
 17-L & 31-G having affair, 31 more serious than 17. Look up 
 19-N; sort of Cinderella and stuck on 16-G. 
 
 10-L & 12-G engaged? 10 don't trust me & face seems 
 familiar, but can't place her yet; 12 shy of me, too, must look 
 up his record. 
 
 16-G is o. k. In love with 19-N, all right & no cap, but 
 straight. Most likely subject at first, so fooled around golf 
 green with him & tried him out. N. D. 
 
 17-L afraid of me but more afraid of 28-G. 31-G leery of me. 
 
 Club accounts altered, but only small sums taken at a time. 
 Think M. is the man too anxious to help me with books. Not 
 nerve enough for big job. 
 
 31-G more worried. Sounded 10-L but still can't get her 
 number. 
 
 Oct. 29: 31-G desperate for money. Sure M. on that I'm 
 dick, but thinks put here to check up books. 19-N & 16-G 
 nervous. 
 
 Oct. 30: 31-G tried to bribe me for all money in club under 
 my care and for me to make get-away. Offered 1st mortgage 
 on property, but happen to know it is in name of 5-L. 19-N 
 & 16-G avoid each other like plague; up to some mischief. Pos- 
 sible subjects to date: 17-L; 12-G; 31-G; 19-N, & M as long 
 shot. 12-G watching me now from hall.
 
 226 THE TEIGGEE OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 Oct. 31: 12-G giving me the eye again, this time through win- 
 dow from porch, where M. has hung Jap. lantern. Dance com- 
 ing off soon. 
 
 What is 19-N doing under lant 
 
 Here the cryptic scrawl broke off abruptly, as 
 though the writer had been interrupted at his task, 
 and for some moments Crane sat staring in bewil- 
 derment at it. Clearly Doyle had meant it as a 
 correlation of facts and observations for his own 
 study alone, yet there must be some key to the 
 enigma which this fresh set of numbers presented. 
 
 "10-L" was evidently a woman, since the oper- 
 ative had not been able to place her, and "12-G" 
 was as obviously a man, as Doyle had made a note 
 to look up his record. "M" was designated with 
 no number, and, if "L" could be assumed as a 
 starter to indicate lady and * ' G " gentlemen, what 
 could "19-N" mean? 
 
 The detective rose and began pacing the small 
 inclosure reflectively. For the time being the 
 urgent summons from the Dorrances was forgot- 
 ten, as was the lesser importance of his own lack 
 of food and brain fag from loss of sleep. If Doyle 
 had intended those notes for himself alone why on 
 earth hadn't he written the names, or at least 
 initials? He had hidden the single page with 
 extreme care, yet he had left an ingenious clew
 
 TELLTALE NUMERALS 227 
 
 to the changed combination, and the safe itself 
 contained nothing else which the house committee 
 might not freely have examined. 
 
 Where had he got those infernal numbers, any- 
 way? Surely he would not have resorted to those 
 on the pigeonholes of the mail rack again. Crane 
 turned and studied it for a moment, but the 
 numbers, when applied to the document in his 
 hands, made no sense, and impatiently he resorted 
 once more to a perusal of the latter. 
 
 The only person with whom Doyle had "fooled 
 around the golf green" was young Landon; he, 
 therefore, must be "16-G," and "19-N," with 
 whom the latter was in love, could be none other 
 than little Alice Dare, the "sort of Cinderella." 
 "M" was undoubtedly Murdock, but what were 
 those numbers and how had Doyle come to apply 
 them? 
 
 All at once a light broke over him. Gathering 
 up the ledgers, he thrust them back in the safe and 
 closed it. He had barely straightened when a 
 knock sounded upon the door. 
 
 Vaulting the counter, Crane unlocked it to find 
 the under-steward, Henry, standing upon the 
 threshold, a laden tray in his hands, from which 
 savory odors arose. "Mr. Estridge's compli- 
 ments, sir, but the dining room is closed, and we've
 
 228 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 kept this hot for you as long as we could. Mr. 
 Dorrance has telephoned again, but Mr. Estridge 
 gave orders that you were not to be disturbed." 
 
 Realizing all at once that he was voraciously 
 hungry, Crane expressed his thanks and added: 
 "Henry, the lockers, in which the members keep 
 their golf clubs and extra things, are numbered, 
 are they not?" 
 
 The man looked his surprise, but replied 
 promptly enough. "Yes, sir, both in the ladies' 
 and gentlemen's locker rooms." 
 
 "Do you know to whom each belongs!" 
 
 Henry permitted himself to smile discreetly. "I 
 ought to, sir. They have been under my special 
 charge, as you might say, for the past two years. 
 I've a list of the members with the numbers of 
 their lockers, if you would care to see it." 
 
 "I should, very much. Will you bring it to 
 me now, please, and then give orders to have my 
 larger car the one in which I came out from town 
 last night at the veranda steps in fifteen min- 
 utes? Where is Mr. Estridge?" 
 
 "In the billiard room, sir. I will get the list 
 at once and see that your car is ready on 
 time." 
 
 Crane attacked the contents of the tray with
 
 TELLTALE NUMERALS 229 
 
 such vigor that he was halfway through his meal 
 when the steward returned, and, as the latter 
 closed the door behind him again, the detective 
 drew Doyle 's notes from his pocket and compared 
 them with the list of lockers. 
 
 The meaning leaped out at him now in all 
 clarity, and he whistled softly as he read. Of the 
 ladies Mrs. Sowerby had locker No. 17, Mrs. Dor- 
 ranee No. 5, Mrs. de Forest No. 19, and Mrs. Car- 
 ter No. 10. In the men's room Bowies' locker was 
 number 12, Landon's 16, Dor ranee's 32, and Sow- 
 erby 's 28. 
 
 "Ah!" said Crane to himself. "It didn't take 
 Doyle long to discover that Mrs. Sowerby and Dor- 
 ranee were having a flirtation, to say nothing of 
 Mrs. Carter and Bowles, and that love affair be- 
 tween the two young kids. But why was Bowles 
 shy of him?" 
 
 Pausing only to copy on the back of Doyle's 
 notes the names of those whose locker numbers 
 the late operative had mentioned, Crane replaced 
 the sheet of paper in his pocket and then finished 
 his dinner hastily. He rang for the steward to 
 remove the tray, returned the list to him, and, 
 locking the door of the little office, he sought the 
 billiard room. "Mr. Estridge, I want to thank
 
 230 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 you most heartily for your thoughtfulness. But 
 for you I should have had no dinner, for I had 
 quite forgotten all about food." 
 
 The attorney, who had been knocking the balls 
 aimlessly about on one of the tables in solitude, 
 glanced up and laid down his cue. 
 
 "You found something to interest you?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "Very much so!" replied Crane. "Pd like a 
 little chat with you some time to-morrow, if I may 
 have it, but now I want to return to you the keys 
 you lent me and give Murdock's notebook into 
 your possession. You'll find, I think, that his 
 itemized list of peculations is correct in the main, 
 but you won't be able to open the safe with the 
 combination you handed me. I '11 give you the real 
 one to-morrow." 
 
 "I thought so!" Estridge said. "I have some 
 notes to prepare on a case of my own which comes 
 up next week, and you will find me at my lodge all 
 day." 
 
 Crane took leave of him and proceeded to his 
 waiting car, but, as he tore through the night 
 toward the Dorrances', that unfinished final sen- 
 tence scrawled by Doyle rang in the detective's 
 ears, as though the lips now cold in death were
 
 TELLTALE NUMERALS 231 
 
 whispering them! "What is 19-N doing under 
 
 lant " 
 
 What, indeed, had Alice Dare, the pauper niece 
 of Mrs. de Forest, been doing beneath the dragon 
 lantern, wherein had been coiled her aunt's stolen 
 necklace ?
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 MRS. DORRANCE ADVANCES A THEORY 
 
 EVEN had he not mentally noted its general 
 location that afternoon Crane could not have 
 failed to find the Dorrance's pretentious house. It 
 was illuminated so brilliantly that it stood out in 
 all the ugliness of its hybrid architecture against 
 the night sky, and, as Crane whirled up the drive- 
 way, the entrance door was flung open, and Philip 
 Dorrance's figure, prancing excitedly, was silhou- 
 etted against the glare from within. 
 
 "Great Scott, why didn't you come sooner, 
 Crane?" He seized the detective's arm, before 
 the latter had fairly reached the top step of the 
 veranda, and dragged him in. ' ' My wife has been 
 like a mad woman ! You said an hour, and here it 
 is nearly midnight, and some officious fool at the 
 club refused to put you on the wire again ! ' ' 
 
 "I told you, Mr. Dor ranee, that I had one or 
 two points to clear up there before I left, although 
 I did not anticipate being detained so long," Crane 
 
 232
 
 MRS. DORRANCE ADVANCES THEORY 233 
 
 responded, adding: ''Perhaps I have come too 
 late, and Mrs. Dorrance has retired!" 
 
 11 'Retired!' repeated the other with a gurgle. 
 "You don't know my wife when she gets going, 
 but you will ! Come along ; she 's in the drawing- 
 room." 
 
 As he followed his host the detective amusedly 
 noted the change in his appearance from a few 
 hours before. His tie was twisted, his collar and 
 shirt front wilted, and instead of his usual jaunty 
 strut, he sidled cringingly down the hall. The 
 latter, although spacious enough, was cluttered 
 with spurious armor, chairs, and settles copied 
 from every known period, and hung with portraits, 
 the suspiciously shiny varnish of which belied the 
 antiquity of the costumed characters they rep- 
 resented. 
 
 The apartment which they entered was large, 
 and had manifestly been "done" by some interior 
 decorator with an eye to his client's purse solely, 
 but here the details of his immediate surroundings 
 escaped Crane's observation for the moment. 
 
 Wide as the drawing-room was it seemed to be 
 filled with the ponderous bulk of the beetle-browed 
 woman who in disheveled evening dress was pac- 
 ing heavily back and forth. Mentally the detective 
 flattened himself against the wall. The lady
 
 234 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 paused and demanded in a deep, shaking voice: 
 "Is this Mr. Crane? You have come at last!" 
 
 "I am sorry I could not get here before, Mrs. 
 Dorrance. ' ' He bowed. "It is an unconscionable 
 hour to call at your home even upon such busi- 
 ness as mine." 
 
 "Hour! "What do hours matter, or anything 
 else in the world ! ' ' She flung her arms out with 
 such violence that the threads of one shoulder 
 strap snapped ominously. "There is a thief 
 abroad in our community, Mr. Crane ! A robber 
 who would stop at a crime of no magnitude ! ' ' 
 
 "Now, Josephine!" said her husband in what 
 was meant to be a soothing tone, but she turned 
 upon him. "Hold your tongue, Philip, or go to 
 bed! "Were they your jewels, I should like to 
 know? I shall tell this person just what I think, 
 and nothing can stop me ! ' ' 
 
 In spite of himself Crane started slightly. 
 Could she have heard of the theft of the necklace ? 
 If so why should she become so wrought up over 
 another woman's loss? But he was vouchsafed 
 no time for idle conjecture. 
 
 "Mr. Crane, I do not know why your unfortu- 
 nate predecessor came to Broadlawns, but, after 
 a certain conversation, immediately following the 
 tragedy at the club last night, I had an inkling.
 
 MES. DOEEANCE ADVANCES THEOEY 235 
 
 I was standing beside the chair of an elderly 
 friend who has or had a diamond necklace of 
 which she was inordinately vain. She has exhib- 
 ited it on every possible occasion, until last eve- 
 ning. Two days ago she told me that she con- 
 sidered it too gorgeous to wear to so small an 
 affair as the dance, but I was convinced then that 
 she was not telling the truth, particularly as she 
 made some catty remark about my emeralds!" 
 The lady paused and then broke out in a throaty 
 wail : ' ' My emeralds ! My emeralds which have 
 been in the Farr family for generations ! Oh, this 
 will kill me!" 
 
 "Then you might just as well die sitting down 
 as standing up, Josephine," Philip Dorrance ex- 
 claimed in a sudden burst of spirit, born of nerves 
 strained to the breaking point. l ' It doesn 't matter 
 about me, of course, but Mr. Crane had no sleep 
 last night, and he has been on the go all day. In 
 common humanity you might offer him a chair." 
 
 "Upstart!" Mrs. Dorrance remarked in what 
 was intended to be an aside, but she turned once 
 more to the detective with a visible effort at self- 
 control. "I beg your pardon. Please be seated; 
 my own agitation, which my husband seemingly 
 does not share, will not permit me to remain quiet. 
 I was standing beside this elderly friend when
 
 236 THE TEIGGEE OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 the sheriff approached her, and, to my astonish- 
 ment, I heard her say that she felt herself partly 
 responsible for the death of the young man whom 
 we had known as Mr. Grant. Her contrition van- 
 ished in elated astonishment, however, when the 
 sheriff told her that Grant had succeeded in what 
 he had undertaken. Then he and Mr. Estridge 
 carried her off to talk privately with her, and, on 
 learning that the supposed secretary was in reality 
 a detective, I commenced to put two and two to- 
 gether. 
 
 "This friend of mine had worn her necklace 
 to the dance in September, but she left early in 
 great agitation. There was some sort of a scene 
 which was kept as quiet as possible. I had noticed 
 the necklace particularly on her arrival no one 
 could help it it made a display that was almost 
 vulgar on a person of her age ! I remembered dis- 
 tinctly that I had not seen it when she departed, 
 for I assisted in putting her cloak about her shoul- 
 ders. Nothing but theft could bring a detective 
 to our eminently select country club, and no theft 
 could be of much concern nor so closely connected 
 with my friend, as to make her feel partly re- 
 sponsible for that detective's death but the loss 
 of her greatest treasure. Am I not right, Mr. 
 Crane?"
 
 I 
 
 MBS. DORRANCE ADVANCES THEORY 237 
 
 "My dear Mrs. Dorrance, I am not here in 
 Broadlawns on the same mission as my colleague 
 was, but solely to investigate his murder," Crane 
 responded firmly. ' ' I must decline to discuss any- 
 thing else." 
 
 "That girl Alice Dare would neither affirm nor 
 deny my supposition when I called on her aunt 
 to-day, and she received me in Mrs. de Forest's 
 place, but I am confident that she knew ! Perhaps 
 it will repay her when you learn what I have to 
 tell you!" There was morbid triumph in Mrs. 
 Dorrance 's husky tones. "If Mrs. de Forest's 
 necklace was actually stolen, and your associate 
 killed because he had discovered the identity of 
 the thief, then you would do well to guard my 
 house, for I, too, have been robbed, and we are 
 all likely to be murdered in our beds! My pre- 
 cious emeralds are gone!" 
 
 "Your emeralds!" the detective exclaimed. 
 "That is most unfortunate, and you have my deep- 
 est sympathy, but I scarcely see how that has any 
 bearing on the identity of my colleague's mur- 
 derer. ' ' 
 
 "The emeralds are not gone, exactly, but Har- 
 lier, the jeweler, claims that some time during the 
 past month they have been taken from their 
 original settings and fakes substituted in their
 
 238 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 place," Dorrance explained in a hurried tone. 
 "They were cleaned in his establishment, just 
 before the dance in September, and nothing was 
 found to be wrong with them then, but my wife 
 got a notion a day or so ago that some of the 
 settings might be loose, so I took them into Har- 
 lier's again. A man from there telephoned out 
 and told Mrs. Dorrance of the substitution, while 
 I was returning from the club late this afternoon, 
 and she is convinced that it has something to do 
 with the theft of Mrs. de Forest's necklace and 
 the killing of your man last night. Nothing would 
 do but I must send for you at once. You see?" 
 
 His voice was almost apologetic, but Crane 
 shook his head. "I am afraid that I don't," he 
 disclaimed. "Mrs. Dorrance has given me no 
 valid reason for her suspicion that the necklace 
 you speak of was stolen, or that my colleague was 
 sent here to find it. I cannot discuss his case, as 
 I said before, but, with my own knowledge of it, 
 I can see no connection between the identity of 
 his slayer and that of the person who effected the 
 substitution of fakes for your emeralds." 
 
 "You cannot!" Mrs. Dorrance, who for the mo- 
 ment had subsided, spent with her emotions, 
 started up indignantly. "What if I should tell 
 you I happen to know the necklace was stolen,
 
 MRS. DOKRANCE ADVANCES THEOEY 239 
 
 know that man was sent here to find it, and that 
 he was shot after he did find it? His murderer 
 is still at large, and another robbery of greater 
 magnitude has been discovered, and you see no 
 connection! To say the least I am disappointed, 
 Mr. Crane, for I had heard some really intelligent 
 things of you!" 
 
 "If your knowledge were authentic, Mrs. Dor- 
 ranee which I do not admit I should have to 
 know how you came by it before changing my 
 plans and theories." Crane's tone was a study 
 in skepticism as he warily led her on. "Woman's 
 intuition may be all very well in its way, but you 
 have given me only one fact: that fakes have 
 been substituted for your emeralds. In the in- 
 vestigation of a murder we must have cold facts 
 to go upon." 
 
 " 'Woman's intuition' indeed!" Something 
 very like a snort was emitted by his affronted 
 hostess. "I have heard that you detectives de- 
 pend more than a little for valuable clews on back- 
 stairs gossip the testimony of servants. I pay 
 mine better than any one in the neighborhood, 
 though Heaven knows I have nothing to conceal, 
 and I am rewarded by the only loyalty which 
 seems to exist nowadays. I could tell you things ! ' ' 
 
 "Josephine!" exclaimed her husband. "Re-
 
 240 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 member that you have had to pay costs already 
 in two suits for libel and one for malicious 
 mischief ! ' ' 
 
 "That will do." Mrs. Dorrance's tone was 
 ominously quiet. "You will remember, Philip, 
 that it was I and not you who paid the costs. 
 The hussies were guilty in each case. I am con- 
 ducting this interview. Mr. Crane, you must 
 know from your professional experience that 
 servants will talk, and nothing positively noth- 
 ing can be kept from them. Concerning Mrs. de 
 Forest's necklace, her maid and mine are inti- 
 mate friends, but mine receives higher wages. 
 Need I be more explicit?" 
 
 "I think I understand," Crane said. "But, 
 after all, a maid's suspicions and predilection for 
 sensational gossip, of which you have just spoken 
 
 "I am speaking now of facts, not suspicions, 
 and both maids are reliable witnesses. I do not 
 care to be brought into this matter any further 
 than is necessary to recover my own jewels, nat- 
 urally, for what would be added glory for you in 
 your profession would ostracize me in my set out 
 here, and what I say to you now must be strictly 
 confidential. I have locked the doors leading to
 
 MRS. DORRANCE ADVANCES THEORY 241 
 
 the servants ' wing, and my husband doesn't count, 
 for he would not dare to repeat anything. Mrs. 
 de Forest's necklace is safe in the hands of the 
 sheriff, and, knowing that, she would not be in- 
 clined to tell you whom she suspected of stealing 
 it, nor help you in your search for Doyle's mur- 
 derer, lest it bring upon her own household the 
 scandal and disgrace she has done everything to 
 avoid. ' ' 
 
 1 ( Oh, Heavens ! ' ' exclaimed the wretched Philip, 
 but his ejaculation was unheeded. 
 
 "Love," Mrs. Dorrance continued her austere 
 tone conveyed no impression of that tender pas- 
 sion "will sometimes cause impulsive young 
 people to do desperate, even criminal, things. Mrs. 
 de Forest treats that orphan niece of hers like an 
 upper servant and has provided her with smart 
 clothes and the outward advantage of wealth, only 
 that the girl might the more quickly make a rich 
 marriage and be off her hands. I have this from 
 her own lips, Mr. Crane. The girl has rewarded 
 her by falling in love with a penniless bank clerk ; 
 all Broadlawns can substantiate that. Mrs. de 
 Forest forbade the match, and the young couple 
 were desperate. On reaching home from the 
 Harvest dance Mrs. de Forest accused her niece
 
 242 THE TEIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 in the hearing of another person, although she 
 did not know it of stealing her necklace. Alice 
 denied it, of course, and threatened to go away 
 and earn her own living and be free. 
 
 "I did not learn this until a week later, and, in 
 the meantime, I foolishly decked the girl out in my 
 emeralds for a masquerade at a week-end house 
 party. I make no direct accusation, but I have 
 heard that clever work can be done by expert 
 jewel fakers in three days, and this house party 
 in the Berkshires lasted from Friday until Mon- 
 day. When the emeralds were returned to me I 
 put them away without a close inspection, and it 
 was only a few days ago that I discovered that 
 the settings of the brooch and pendant were loose. 
 Lately Alice Dare and her lover have given every 
 evidence of a nervousness that amounted to sheer 
 fright; a dozen people have remarked upon it at 
 the club. Last night, after that murder, when 
 Mrs. de Forest and her niece returned to their 
 home there was another scene between them. Mrs. 
 de Forest this time accused her niece of putting 
 the necklace back where where Doyle must have 
 found it. I saw the girl in the early part of the 
 evening dawdling about the very window through 
 which he was afterward shot. I hope that I am 
 unprejudiced and just, but these are facts which
 
 MRS. DORRANCE ADVANCES THEORY 243 
 
 I have given you. Do they interest you sufficiently 
 to listen to my theory of the murder?" 
 
 Crane had attended to every word, and again 
 Doyle's interrupted question leaped to his mind, 
 although instinctively he shrank from the possi- 
 bility which this dominant woman had laid bare. 
 Neither face nor voice betrayed him as he replied 
 calmly: "Your facts might interest me, Mrs. 
 Dorrance, if it were not for a seeming inconsis- 
 tency. Why is the necklace, which you say is now 
 in the hands of the sheriff, not a fake, as well as 
 your emeralds?" 
 
 "If you have had any experience with gem 
 thefts you should know that diamonds are the 
 most difficult jewels in the world to imitate with 
 any hope of deceiving even the most casual glance, 
 while it would take an expert to detect the differ- 
 ence between real emeralds and some of the mar- 
 velous manufactured ones which are on the market 
 now," Mrs. Dorrance remarked coldly. "More- 
 over but that is a part of my theory which you 
 evidently do not consider worth hearing." 
 
 "Most assuredly I do, Mrs. Dorrance, but first 
 let me warn you that you have not a shred of even 
 circumstantial evidence to support your idea as 
 to when and by whom your emeralds were substi- 
 tuted. With that theory fixed in your mind you
 
 244 THE TSIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 may have overlooked other possibilities, and, as 
 you say, you desire above all things to be just, 
 especially in so serious a matter." 
 
 Mrs. Dorrance's jaw set, and for an instant her 
 dark eyes flashed. Then she controlled herself and 
 responded: " Quite so! May I ask what other 
 possibilities you suggest, Mr. Crane?" 
 
 " Where do you keep your emeralds when you 
 are not wearing them? At a bank here or in 
 town!" 
 
 "Neither. I have a fireproof safe, built into 
 my dressing-room wall, and no one on this earth 
 knows the combination except myself. ' ' 
 
 "Josephine!" that gentleman exclaimed in 
 shocked reproach. "I trust you don't suggest 
 
 "I suggest nothing!" she said. "Whenever I 
 go to that safe I lock my door and hang a dark 
 cloth over the knob so that my maid cannot spy 
 upon me through the keyhole, and that woman 
 knows more than you ever will, Philip ! If I told 
 you one half of what she has repeated to me con- 
 cerning the actions of certain empty-headed dolls 
 and dyed-haired vixens in this neighborhood you 
 would realize that nothing can be kept from her 
 nothing but the combination of my safe!" 
 
 "On returning from the Harvest dance you
 
 MES. DORRANCE ADVANCES THEORY 245 
 
 put your jewels immediately away, Mrs. Dor- 
 ranee T ' ' 
 
 * ' Yes. I did not open the safe until a few days 
 later when I took out the emeralds to lend to Miss 
 Dare." 
 
 "When she returned them " 
 
 "I placed them in the safe so quickly that, as I 
 told you, I scarcely looked at them, beyond a 
 glance to see that all the pieces were there. The 
 safe remained closed until I took out the emeralds, 
 a few days ago, to see that all the settings were 
 secure before wearing them to the dance. Har- 
 lier's are always very prompt in their work for 
 me, and I thought it odd when, on Thursday, they 
 told my husband that the repairs could not be 
 finished in time. The official explained this after- 
 noon that they had not wished to alarm me until 
 they had examined every stone to determine if all 
 or only a part of the set had been exchanged for 
 imitations. Not one of them is left, Mr. Crane! 
 All all of them are gone!" 
 
 Philip, who at the reference to "dolls" and 
 "vixens" had subsided, now interposed. 
 
 "I thought myself that the chap's manner at 
 Harlier's was odd when I took the emeralds in 
 to him on Thursday," he observed. "As soon as 
 the inquest is over I mean to have a thorough in-
 
 246 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 vestigation made of the substitution, Josephine. 
 You can safely leave everything in my hands." 
 
 "What! Trust you to find my emeralds for 
 me?" his wife demanded in contemptuous wrath. 
 1 'I want the most expert advice in the country, 
 both detective and legal, and I intend to have it! 
 Moreover, as soon as this stupid inquest is fin- 
 ished, I shall take the first train to town and 
 interview the head of Harlier's himself! I am 
 convinced, however, that my theory will prove to 
 be the truth." 
 
 "Will you tell me that theory now, Mrs. Dor- 
 ranee?" asked Crane. "I know part of it, of 
 course. You think that, some time during the 
 Harvest dance, Miss Dare managed to steal her 
 aunt's necklace." 
 
 "Yes; I believe that she was afraid to take it 
 home, or confess to her lover then what she had 
 done, but secreted it about the club somewhere. A 
 girl values the good opinion of the man she cares 
 for, and I think she meant to sell the necklace at 
 the first opportunity to get to town, persuade 
 Gerald Landon to elope with her, and then produce 
 the money with some trumpery, romantic story of 
 a legacy which she had concealed from her aunt. 
 He is sufficiently young and in love to have swal- 
 lowed it. However, her aunt's unexpected accu-
 
 MBS. DORRANCE ADVANCES THEORY 247 
 
 sation must have thrown her into a panic, and 
 she did confess to him what she had done." Mrs. 
 Dorrance paused and added: "I do not pretend 
 to say whether it was fear or honesty which im- 
 pelled him, but it is my opinion that he persuaded 
 her to return them at the earliest opportunity, and 
 they decided on the dance last night as the most 
 favorable time for placing the necklace where it 
 would be found. 
 
 "That girl was crazy to marry him, though, 
 and they had to have money, so, when I foolishly 
 offered to let her have my jewels for the week- 
 end, she saw her chance for a second coup. This 
 time she would not fail, for the substitution might 
 not be discovered for months, and much could 
 happen in the meantime. So much for my emer- 
 alds, but to get back to the necklace. Neither of 
 those two young conspirators had counted on the 
 possibility of a private detective being installed at 
 the club, but, as Hallowe'en drew near, I think 
 they suspected the real identity and purpose of 
 the new secretary that would account for their 
 increasing nervousness and fright yet they had 
 no other course but their original plan to follow. 
 
 "It is my belief that the girl concealed that 
 necklace in the lantern. Doyle saw her do it and 
 stationed himself there. Both she and her lover
 
 248 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 knew that her guilt would be exposed. But, Mr. 
 Crane, it is also my firm conviction that Gerald 
 Landon came to the dance prepared for that very 
 contingency and determined to go to any length 
 to protect the girl who had stolen through love of 
 him. I am not romantically inclined, but this is 
 sheer logic. You will remember that he stood 
 alone in the door of the conservatory. That win- 
 dow, where the lantern hung and Doyle stood, was 
 within his unobstructed view and range. When he 
 saw that Doyle knew and meant to remain on 
 guard until he could recover the necklace and 
 denounce Alice well, it is my theory that Gerald 
 Landon chose that moment of darkness to seal 
 the detective's lips forever, even if he went to 
 the chair for it! Have you a better theory, Mr. 
 Crane!" 
 
 There was a horrified gasp from Philip, but 
 Crane's face remained impassive as he replied: 
 "None that I am prepared to offer, Mrs. Dor- 
 ranee, but I must earnestly request that you will 
 not repeat this theory of yours to any one else 
 until after the inquest. You will have cause to 
 amend it, I think, before then."
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 A PIECE OF RIBBON 
 
 WHEN Crane awakened in his room at the 
 club on the following morning the church 
 bells were tolling, and bright sunlight streamed 
 in at the window. For a moment the haze of sleep 
 still encompassed him, then consciousness returned 
 in a full tide, bearing upon its crest the problem 
 which confronted him. 
 
 Mrs. Dorrance's emeralds were a side issue 
 and did not concern him, but, in spite of his repu- 
 diation of her theory as a whole, it had brought 
 certain questions to his mind which must be 
 answered, even while it had made clear to him sev- 
 eral points upon which he had formerly been in 
 the dark. 
 
 It might have been by sheer accident that Alice 
 Dare had lingered under the dragon lantern early 
 on the evening of the dance, yet her aunt 's accusa- 
 tions, carried though they were through the me- 
 dium of gossiping maids and an envious social 
 
 249
 
 250 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 rival, were significant. He had Doyle's notes to 
 confirm the report of the attachment which existed 
 between the young girl and the penniless bank 
 employee, but Doyle had also observed the increas- 
 ing nervousness of the couple and their self- 
 conscious avoidance of each other. He had stated 
 his opinion that they were ' ' up to some mischief. ' ' 
 If they were guiltless of any wrong what had Alice 
 Dare and Gerald Landon to fear? They were 
 both young enough to wait, and, if the girl had 
 any stamina, the mere disapproval of her aunt 
 need not have caused her such agitation. 
 
 Mrs. de Forest had taken locker No. 19 in the 
 ladies* dressing room for Alice's use, and the girl 
 had been designated "N" evidently niece in 
 Doyle's notes. For some reason he had kept a 
 wary eye upon her from the first and had even 
 included her in his list of possible ''subjects" or 
 suspects. At the same time he pronounced Landon 
 straight and declared that there was "N. D." or 
 nothing doing, in an attempt to connect him with 
 the theft of the necklace. Had the dead operative 
 considered only the girl's motive and opportunity, 
 or had he other cause to suspect her? 
 
 Another phase of the enigma recurred to 
 Crane's mind. Why had young Mrs. Sowerby 
 stated that she was in the conservatory when the
 
 A PIECE OF BIBBON 251 
 
 shot was fired if, in reality, she had been upstairs 
 in one of the resting rooms, which must have been 
 passed by the person who threw the pistol out of 
 the window? 
 
 Impatiently thrusting his futile cogitations from 
 his mind, Crane sprang out of bed and rang the 
 bell. Henry appeared, and a cold shower and 
 hearty breakfast made the detective ready for his 
 day's work. After ascertaining that Murdock 
 was still at liberty about the club, but under the 
 watchful eye of Jewett, he ordered the little flivver 
 and started again along the road bordered by the 
 glen, keeping his engine as silent as possible and 
 sitting back under the screening top of the car. 
 
 It was just past eleven o'clock, and Crane an- 
 ticipated that most of the country club colony 
 would be at church. Even those members who 
 did not usually put themselves to such unwonted 
 exertion would want to catch any morsel of sen- 
 sational gossip which might be let fall later. He 
 deduced that others would count upon this fact, 
 also, and would choose the glen, at this hour, as 
 a safe meeting place. If he had hoped to come 
 upon the same couple as before he was doomed 
 to disappointment. 
 
 Leaving the car, he climbed the fence and 
 strolled down the path beside the little stream, but
 
 252 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 no sound of voices or footsteps rewarded him. He 
 was about to turn back when he heard his name 
 called in ringing, masculine tones and glanced 
 across the brook to behold Gerald Landon and 
 Alice Dare seated on a fallen log, a suspiciously 
 decorous space between them. 
 
 " "Won't you come over, Mr. Crane? There 
 isn't any bridge, but you'll find a row of stepping- 
 stones a few paces to your right." 
 
 "Thanks." Crane laughed. "Good morning, 
 Miss Dare. May I join you? Most of the people 
 I wanted to interview are at church, but I think 
 you have found the best place of worship after 
 all." 
 
 She nodded smilingly, but her flush deepened, 
 as he sprang lightly across the tilting stones and 
 seated himself upon a convenient stump. 
 
 "I I have a headache, Mr. Crane. At least 
 that is what I told my aunt, or I should have had 
 to go to church, too!" she said with shy audacity. 
 "You see I am putting myself in your hands so 
 that you will not give me away, but it was such 
 a beautiful morning I could not resist a walk, and 
 then then I met Mr. Landon." 
 
 "I won't give you away, Miss Dare, if you will 
 allow me to ask you a question or two," he re- 
 sponded gravely. Then, as her eyes widened, and
 
 A PIECE OF RIBBON 253 
 
 she instinctively shrank away from him, he added : 
 "Please don't be annoyed; I am sure that you 
 will be only too glad to answer when you know 
 what I wish to ask, even in the presence of Mr. 
 Landon. ' ' 
 
 The challenge was unmistakable, and, mere girl 
 though she was, she recognized it and lifted her 
 little chin spiritedly. "You can ask me nothing 
 concerning myself, Mr. Crane, that I am not per- 
 fectly willing to answer in the presence of Mr. 
 Landon, or anybody else, but, if it is about that 
 horrible murder, I have already told you what 
 little I know, and I had rather not discuss it 
 further." 
 
 "It isn't," he assured her. "Miss Dare, you 
 attended a house party, somewhere in the Berk- 
 shires, about a week after the Harvest dance, 
 didn't you?" 
 
 "Why, yes, at the Jordan Nicolls'," she replied, 
 surprise raising her soft tones a note or two. 
 
 ' ' They gave a masquerade, did they not ? May 
 I ask what sort of costume you wore ? ' ' 
 
 "A simple black domino. My aunt wished me 
 to wear an Egyptian costume, but, at the last 
 moment, I found that it was not suitable." The 
 surprise was gone from the girl's tones now, and 
 she hesitated as though embarrassed.
 
 254 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 "Did you wear any jewels, Miss Dare?*' Crane 
 persisted. 
 
 To his astonishment she laughed suddenly, a 
 lilting little ripple of sheer amusement. 
 
 "Oh, you mean those emeralds of Mrs. Dor- 
 ranee 's ? Indeed, no ! Of course I could not offend 
 her by refusing her offer, especially as my aunt 
 insisted that I accept, but I should have looked 
 like a stained-glass window in them. I did not 
 even take them with me ! ' ' 
 
 "Will you tell me, then, where you left them 
 during your absence!" 
 
 Gerald Landon did not permit Alice to answer 
 the detective. 
 
 "Look here, Mr. Crane, you'll have to pardon 
 me for butting in, but I'd like to know what all 
 this is leading to! That Dorrance woman didn't 
 have her emeralds on at the dance Friday night; 
 is she trying to claim that something happened to 
 them while they were supposed to be in Alice's 
 hands?" 
 
 "Gerald!" the girl exclaimed softly, but he 
 retorted: "Oh, what is the use of pretending? 
 I'm getting sick of it, dear, and, besides, after a 
 certain conversation I had with Mr. Crane in the 
 locker room at the club, yesterday, I know he 
 doesn't ask a pointless question." He turned to
 
 A PIECE OF KIBBON 255 
 
 the detective. "Those emeralds are worth a for- 
 tune, and it would not have been safe for Alice to 
 travel alone with them, even if she had intended 
 to wear them. She consulted me, and I suggested 
 that we ask Mr. Estridge to take charge of them; 
 he thought it was a good joke and did so. That's 
 all there is to it." 
 
 A vagrant puff of wind snatched at Miss Dare's 
 tam-o'-shanter, and, as she raised both hands to 
 her head to save it, her rough tweed sports coat 
 fell open at the throat, exposing her slender neck 
 and the silk blouse which she wore. Shivering a 
 little, she drew the coat together before she took 
 up her part of the explanation. 
 
 "You see, Mr. Crane, Mrs. Dorrance brought 
 the emeralds to me in a traveling jewel case, just 
 before I started for the Jordan Nicolls,' and I 
 had to pretend to take them along, for my aunt 
 never left me until I got into the motor to drive 
 to the station. I made an excuse to stop at Mr. 
 Estridge 's lodge for a minute. He was waiting 
 there for me by appointment, and Gerald, too, and 
 we all looked at the jewels to make sure that 
 they were all right. Then Mr. Estridge put them 
 away in his own safe. When I returned from 
 the Jordan Nicolls' on Monday I purposely took 
 an earlier train than I was supposed to, and Mr.
 
 256 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 London met me at the station with the Erasers' 
 car and drove me to Mr. Estridge 's. ' ' She paused 
 and added in some confusion. "I I suppose this 
 all sounds very deceitful to you, but I don't think 
 you quite understand the situation." 
 
 "Perhaps I understand it better than you 
 think. ' ' Crane looked straight into her eyes, and 
 they fell before his. " Please go on. Mr. Est- 
 ridge was waiting for you and gave you the jewel 
 case to slip into your traveling bag!" 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 "He insisted upon us both looking into it first, 
 however, to make sure that the stones were just 
 as we three had last seen them. He himself drove 
 me first to Mrs. Dorrance's house to return the 
 emeralds and then home, where he explained to 
 my aunt that it was he who had picked me up 
 at the station. He is a dear," she added impul- 
 sively. "You see, Mr. Crane, my aunt doesn't 
 exactly approve of of " 
 
 * ' Me ! ' ' interjected Gerald. " I 'm forbidden the 
 house, and we have had to meet like this ! I don 't 
 think there is anything particularly objectionable 
 about me except that I haven't got scads of money, 
 but that is enough to condemn me in the old 
 lady's eyes. There was some fellow up at the Jor- 
 dan Nicolls ' whom Mrs. de Forest did approve of,
 
 A PIECE OF RIBBON 257 
 
 though, and that was why she was willing to have 
 Alice accept Mrs. Dorrance's offer of the emeralds 
 wanted her to make a holy show of herself, 
 rigged up like Cleopatra!" 
 
 ''Gerald!" the girl exclaimed again softly. 
 "It was kind of Mrs. Dorrance to offer them." 
 
 "Kind nothing!" retorted the young man. 
 "Don't I know the bunch out here! She only 
 did it to try to get in with those Nicolls people 
 through your aunt ! ' ' 
 
 "What a he-gossip you are growing to be, 
 Gerald!" Alice laughed, and then her face grew 
 grave, as she asked: "But why did you ask about 
 the emeralds, Mr. Crane?" 
 
 "I didn't, if you remember," he protested. 
 "You brought them into the conversation, but I 
 did mean to ask about them. I heard Mrs. Dor- 
 rance say that the settings of one or two of the 
 pieces had become loosened, so it is as well, 
 perhaps, that you did not wear them, but left 
 them in the custody of Mr. Estridge during 
 your absence. Now may I ask when either 
 of you first became aware of the identity of 
 Doyle?" 
 
 "I didn't until his death, as I told you yester- 
 day," Gerald replied. "I liked him, but Alice 
 said that there was something odd about him that
 
 258 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 made her uncomfortable from the very day he ar- 
 rived. ' ' 
 
 "Not quite that!" the girl denied nervously. 
 
 "Well, you said, only Thursday, that he asked 
 you funny, unexpected questions and stared after 
 you, and that you wished you could see his eyes 
 without that shade or " 
 
 "Gerald!" The cry broke involuntarily from 
 the girl's lips. "I told you, too, that I did not dis- 
 like him that his questions were never personal. 
 Several other people thought there was something 
 queer about him, also. You know I was only 
 afraid that he might tell Mr. Sowerby how much 
 we were together about the club, and Mr. Sow- 
 erby might ask you if we were secretly engaged. 
 You would be just foolish enough to admit it, and 
 then you would lose your position! He doesn't 
 approve of his employees marrying under fifty, 
 Mr. Crane!" 
 
 She had turned with a forced laugh to the de- 
 tective, but he did not echo it. Instead he asked 
 gravely: "But did you not know what his real 
 object was in coming here? Were you not told?" 
 
 The girl's delicate face turned white to the lips, 
 but she met his eyes fearlessly this time. "I was 
 not, Mr. Crane. Why should I have been?" 
 
 "Because you knew what had occurred at the
 
 A PIECE OF RIBBON 259 
 
 Harvest dance," he replied slowly. "Do you re- 
 call a certain conversation between your aunt and 
 yourself on reaching home that night? You were 
 accused " 
 
 "What?" Gerald was ready to explode, but 
 neither of them heeded him. 
 
 "How could you know that?" Alice asked. 
 
 "How do I know that you were accused the 
 other night, after Doyle wa^ shot, of having put 
 what had been stolen back where it was found? 
 Servants gossip with their friends in other houses, 
 and your aunt would do well to be sure that her 
 maid is not within hearing." 
 
 ' ' Stop right there ! ' ' Gerald had risen, and his 
 face had whitened, too, beneath its coating of tan. 
 ' ' I 'm going to get at the truth of this ! What was 
 Alice accused of stealing and putting back? She 
 knew that fellow was a detective all the time and 
 never told me! In Heaven's name, why not?" 
 
 ' ' On my word of honor I never knew Doyle was 
 a detective; I only suspected it the last few days, 
 and then I thought that my aunt had hired him 
 to spy upon us to keep us from eloping ! ' ' Alice 
 declared. "Don't look at me like that, Gerald! 
 It was my aunt's diamond necklace that was stolen 
 on the night of the Harvest dance, and, when we 
 got home, she accused me of taking it ! You know
 
 260 THE TRIGGER OP CONSCIENCE 
 
 how abusive she is and what I have had to en- 
 dure ! I could not tell you because, the next morn- 
 ing, after a conference with Mr. Estridge and 
 some others of the house committee, she made me 
 promise not to tell a soul that it had been stolen. 
 When I suggested a private detective she turned 
 on me and declared that she would rather lose a 
 hundred necklaces that she would rather die than 
 put herself in the hands of such sharks! I'm 
 sorry, but that is the word she used, Mr. Crane. 
 I have always believed her implicitly, and I had 
 no reason to doubt her word, particularly, when 
 she told me, from time to time, that the necklace 
 was being sought in some of the large cities. I 
 only realized how cruelly deceitful she was when, 
 after Doyle's death and the recovery of the neck- 
 lace, she accused me of putting it there ! I suppose 
 I was the only person seen near that window, 
 early in the evening, Gerald, but I was only wait- 
 ing for you!" 
 
 "Do you mean the window where that dragon 
 lantern hung where poor Doyle stood just be- 
 fore he was shot!" Gerald demanded. "But 
 that was where we had arranged to meet and slip 
 into the conservatory, just as we did do! Could 
 Doyle have found your aunt's necklace anywhere 
 about there!"
 
 A PIECE OF EIBBON 261 
 
 "It was right inside that lantern all the time! 
 It must have been there while I waited for you!" 
 The tears were raining down the girl's pale cheeks. 
 "Oh, Gerald, you believe in me, don't you? You 
 see why Mr. Crane has followed us down here 
 this morning he thinks I took the necklace and 
 then grew afraid and put it in that lantern to 
 get rid of it, but I didn't! If only you believe 
 in me nothing else matters ! ' ' 
 
 "If any one who accuses you of touching the 
 abominable thing" Gerald did not finish his 
 threat, but knelt and gathered Alice- into his arms. 
 "I only wish I had known before that your aunt 
 had accused you ! You would never have spent an- 
 other night under her roof, and you never shall 
 again! My poor darling!" 
 
 "Oh, we can r t we mustn't tell just yet!" 
 Alice exclaimed. 
 
 "Then, Mrs. Landon, may I respectfully sug- 
 gest that when you wear your wedding ring around 
 your neck you use a longer ribbon?" Crane had 
 risen and stood smiling down at them, "You 
 may not have noticed it, but I have not addressed 
 you as 'Miss Dare' since the wind almost blew 
 your hat off, a while ago, and your coat flew open 
 as you raised your arms. Am I the first to be 
 able to congratulate you both?"
 
 262 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 The little bride smiled through her tears and 
 shyly placed her hand in his extended one. 
 
 "You don't believe that I " she began. 
 
 "I do not, Mrs. Landon, but, if you two try to 
 keep your secret and go about the club looking as 
 guilty as a pair of amateur crooks, I warn you 
 that people are bound to talk more than they 
 have already!" Crane declared. 
 
 "Let them!" Gerald exclaimed defiantly, as he, 
 too, shook hands with the detective. "We were 
 only married Thursday, but this dodging and 
 sneaking has become unbearable already. "We 
 thought that we wouldn't announce it until I man- 
 aged to get a job with a chance for advancement, 
 but I won't allow Alice to enter her aunt's house 
 again. I guess we can buck the game together, 
 and, if you will keep our confidence until after the 
 inquest, I will take my wife with me to town. In 
 the meantime I'll tell Elsie Fraser, and she will put 
 Alice up for the night." 
 
 "You can understand now why I was afraid of 
 poor Doyle when I suspected he was a detective, 
 Mr. Crane, ' ' Alice said. ' ' Thinking that my aunt 
 might have put him on our trail, in spite of her 
 aversion to gentlemen of your profession, I feared 
 that, if he discovered we were married, she would 
 force me to let her have it annulled at once, on
 
 A PIECE OF EIBBON 203 
 
 the threat of of accusing Gerald and me openly 
 of the theft of her necklace. I wanted to keep 
 our elopement a secret until the real thief was 
 found. ' ' 
 
 "I understand, but are you sure no one else 
 knows of your marriage?" 
 
 "I don't see how they could," she replied. 
 "Gerald borrowed the Erasers' runabout, and we 
 drove to a sleepy little village, only a few miles 
 away, and found a minister. None of the Broad- 
 lawns crowd ever go there because there is nothing 
 to see or do. You you won't tell, Mr. Crane?" 
 
 He promised, congratulated them again, and 
 took his leave. As he drove slowly back to the club 
 the grim lines settled once more about his mouth. 
 The romance which he had unearthed had been 
 a very pretty one, but it had brought him no 
 nearer to a solution of his problem, and the slayer 
 of his colleague still walked the earth, unknown 
 and unmolested. 
 
 In the rotunda of the club he came upon Philip 
 Dorrance lounging over a sheaf of the Sunday pa- 
 pers which had just arrived from town. He was as 
 immaculately turned out as usual, but his round 
 face looked haggard and curiously wizen, and he 
 started nervously as the detective was about to 
 pass him with a mere nod.
 
 264 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 ' ' I want a word with you, Crane ; been waiting 
 an hour, in fact, ' ' he began. * ' Of course you know 
 that I wouldn't have sent for you last night if 
 my wife hadn't insisted, but you know also what 
 women are ! I wanted to warn you in a friendly 
 way not to take any stock in that wild theory of 
 hers. I am quite sure that there is some mistake 
 about her emeralds, and I have persuaded her that 
 it is best to keep the matter absolutely quiet and 
 allow me to attend to it for her. If there is any 
 
 fee for your time your services in calling " 
 
 He paused suggestively, and Crane's eyes nar- 
 rowed. 
 
 1 ' There is no fee, Mr. Dorrance, for I have per- 
 formed no service for you. But, if you are going 
 to attend to the matter of the emeralds, yourself, 
 I might give you a word of advice." 
 
 " Really?" Philip's brows went up supercili- 
 ously. "Of what sort may I ask?" 
 
 "Go home to your wife and confess that you 
 yourself sold her emeralds and substituted fakes ; 
 she may let you off to avoid the scandal, ' ' replied 
 Crane. "Your only alternative is to be packed 
 and ready to make your get-away when she starts 
 for Harlier's to-morrow, but, if I am any judge 
 of the lady, you won't get far!"
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE SHADOW O]ST THE DOOR 
 
 a moment Philip was stricken speechless 
 at the discovery of his guilt. Then he at- 
 tempted to bluster, but Crane quickly cut him 
 short. 
 
 "You did not anticipate that the fake stones 
 might be imperfectly set. You trusted to luck 
 that your wife would not discover the substitution 
 for months to come, didn't you? What have you 
 done with the money, Mr. Dorrance?" 
 
 "See here, Crane," the desperate young man 
 said in a subdued tone, "this is none of your af- 
 fair! You are not even an official detective! If 
 I had done this thing, which you accuse me of, 
 you would have no right to interfere without my 
 wife's sanction, and you don't suppose she would 
 give it, do you, and make herself the center of the 
 biggest social scandal that Broadlawns ever had?" 
 
 " I do suppose just that if I were to go and lay 
 the whole story before her," retorted Crane. 
 
 265
 
 266 THE TEIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 "Were you to throw yourself upon her mercy and 
 give her some stall about how you lost the money, 
 and were she absolutely assured that not a whis- 
 per would ever be heard about it she might decide 
 to forgive you. However I have not promised 
 yet, and, if I were to speak an indiscreet word 
 or two, here at the club, or drop one of the notes 
 which I found after Doyle's death, proving your 
 attempts to bribe him " 
 
 ' ' That is a lie ! " declared Philip hotly, but his 
 face paled, and he reeled slightly against the table. 
 
 "Careful, Mr. Dorrance!" the detective warned. 
 "We are alone in this hall for the moment, but 
 it will be a simple matter for me to summon such 
 of the house committee as may be about the build- 
 ing or grounds. I can lay the notes before them, 
 particularly the one in which it is proved that 
 you offered Doyle a first mortgage on property 
 which you do not own. It is presumable that you 
 suggested carrying out the transaction through a 
 dummy, as you wanted all the club funds upon 
 which he could lay his hands before he was ex- 
 pected to disappear. If he had absconded he 
 would have learned that it was impossible for him 
 to collect interest, or foreclose on that mortgage 
 in his own name. Perhaps you reasoned that he 
 was too stupid to realize that! "
 
 THE SHADOW ON THE DOOR 267 
 
 "Stop!" Philip's last vestige of bravado left 
 him, and he whimpered like a stray cur. "It's 
 no use, Crane; you've got me! I did make the 
 substitution you suggest, and I've spent the 
 money. You were right, too, about my wife. She 
 would hound me to the ends of the earth if I tried 
 to run away and an inkling of this got about. 
 If you can find and silence that impostor, who tele- 
 phoned yesterday and pretended to be from Har- 
 lier's, I will go to her and tell her the truth. 
 Perhaps her pride will keep her from kicking me 
 out or worse." 
 
 "But I have not yet promised to remain silent." 
 Crane reminded him significantly. ' * I might have 
 my price even if Doyle did not, you know." 
 
 "So that's it! I might have known!" ex- 
 claimed Philip. "Well, whatever it is I'll pay if 
 I can. There is no use in haggling you have got 
 me cornered. What do ycu want for your si- 
 lence ? ' ' 
 
 "The true facts you threatened Mrs. Carter 
 with if she didn't come across with the money 
 for you to replace those emeralds, ' ' replied Crane 
 sternly. "A part, but not all, of your effort at 
 blackmail and extortion, in the glen yesterday 
 morning, was overheard." 
 
 There was a pause, and then Philip shook his
 
 268 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 head. "I can't do it!" he said. "She knows 
 about the emeralds I had to tell her, and the 
 only hold I have over her to prevent her from 
 repeating it is the fact that I could retaliate. She 
 has bluffed me to a standstill, and now it is a 
 question of silence for silence. "What I threatened 
 to tell has nothing to do with your case. It is 
 just something I discovered by accident, soon after 
 she came here, when I I was rather gone on her. 
 If that is your ultimatum, Crane, you must go 
 ahead and ruin me, for she would if I spoke; it 
 is a fifty-fifty break." 
 
 Crane knew the unalterable stubbornness of the 
 weak when they are cornered. Gazing into the 
 face of Philip Dorrance, he realized that it would 
 be futile to argue further. "With a shrug he dis- 
 missed the matter. "Very well. I will give you 
 your chance, anyway. Go to your wife and make 
 a clean breast of it and I will give you both my 
 word to forget what I have learned. But she 
 must not go about with any scandalous hints 
 against Miss Dare in connection with my case and 
 what led up to it. The young lady is absolutely 
 innocent. ' ' 
 
 "I understand, Crane, and and thank you," 
 Philip answered brokenly. " I 'd like to know how 
 you got on to me, though. ' '
 
 The detective smiled. "With Doyle's notes and 
 my partial knowledge of what took place between 
 you and Mrs. Carter in the glen, together with a 
 pretty well-grounded suspicion as to the object 
 upon which you had lately lavished more money 
 than you could afford, it wasn't difficult to guess," 
 he replied. "Then, too, I watched you rather 
 closely last night when your wife was telling me 
 of her loss. If ever guilt was written upon a hu- 
 man countenance it was upon yours; your nerv- 
 ousness, your over-anxiety to assume charge of 
 the investigation yourself, your attempts to pre- 
 vent your wife from openly accusing another all 
 told against you, too. I will remain here for the 
 next hour. If, during that time, Mrs. Dorrance 
 will telephone to me here and assure me that she 
 knows the truth, I pledge you my word to say 
 nothing. ' ' 
 
 Leaving Philip grateful, but crushed with the 
 prospect of the ordeal before him, Crane pro- 
 ceeded to the dining room, well pleased with the 
 result of his long shot. He was halfway through 
 his luncheon when a hand was laid upon the back 
 of the empty chair opposite him and an urbane 
 voice asked: "Lunching alone, Mr. Crane? Per- 
 haps you won't mind my joining you?" 
 
 Crane glanced up to find Ogden Bowles con-
 
 270 THE TBIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 fronting him, smiling as though confident of his 
 welcome. It seemed scarcely creditable that this 
 calm, cold; well-poised man could be the same who, 
 with the face of a fiend, had driven so madly along 
 the highroad from the glen on the previous day. 
 
 "Delighted to have you, Mr. Bowles," he as- 
 sented. A quick inspiration, borne of that mem- 
 ory, had come to him, and he added: "I haven't 
 forgotten your very kind offer to give me any as- 
 sistance in your power, and I may hold you to it. ' * 
 
 "Up a tree?" the other asked banteringly, as 
 he seated himself. "I have been in many a tight 
 corner on the market. I have had to think quickly 
 and guess right, or it would have been all up with 
 me, and you are cordially welcome to my amateur 
 help whenever you want it." 
 
 "Thanks! I appreciate the favor, but favors 
 are dangerous things sometimes, don't you 
 think?" the detective asked pointedly. "I do not 
 mean any that you might do me, but I was thinking 
 of the foolish, chivalrous things one sometimes 
 does for a lady in distress." 
 
 Bowles glanced sharply at him, but Crane's face 
 betrayed no hint of what lay behind his words. 
 "I am not very chivalrous, I am afraid." This 
 time Bowies' laugh was more obviously forced 
 than before. "I don't think I would do anything
 
 THE SHADOW ON THE DOOR 271 
 
 I considered foolish, even for the sake of a lady. 
 I am past the age, Mr. Crane." 
 
 "We are most vulnerable when we feel that 
 way," Crane replied in an impersonal, medita- 
 tive tone. "Still it isn't always wise to make an 
 enemy of one woman to protect another." 
 
 The broker laid down his knife and fork. ' ' Just 
 what are you driving at?" he demanded. "I 
 haven't been protecting any woman at the expense 
 of another if that is what you are hinting!" 
 There was an underlying note of apprehension in 
 his tones. The detective was quick to take advan- 
 tage of it. "Oh, I w T as speaking in the abstract, 
 I assure you," he replied casually. "I was think- 
 ing of a very interesting conversation I have just 
 had with Mr. Dorrance. Some one played a 
 rather stupid practical joke on his wife yesterday 
 afternoon, but she has very keen ears and a good 
 memory for voices, so they didn't get away with 
 it as successfully as they had believed. It was 
 done to get back at her husband for his attitude 
 toward another woman but this is in strict con- 
 fidence, of course." 
 
 With the shrug of the born gambler, impassive 
 in loss as in gain, Bowles sat back in his chair. 
 "Now that you have told me so much, Mr. Crane 
 in confidence hadn't you better finish?"
 
 272 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 " Suppose you do that," suggested the other 
 quietly. "It won't go any farther, you know, but 
 I am rather curious about it, and, when I am curi- 
 ous about anything, I usually get to the bottom 
 of it, privately or otherwise." 
 
 "You win!" Bowles said after a slight pause. 
 "I think I do know something about what you 
 are referring to, but that little cad had been forc- 
 ing his attentions upon a certain lady beyond the 
 limit of her endurance, and she had no other de- 
 fense than to make use of some information she 
 had gained about his wife. There wasn't much 
 of a joke about it, Mr. Crane. Her knowledge 
 was quite authentic or so I understand she told 
 the person to whom she appealed to act for her. 
 She merely wanted to warn him through Mrs. Dor- 
 ranee that she could create some scandal for them 
 both if he did not cease to annoy her. I admit 
 that it was a cattish, feminine sort of way of get- 
 ting back, but there was nothing criminal about 
 it, and I think it will prove effectual. Anyway 
 her intermediary in the little passage at arms fell 
 for it and will have to bear the result." 
 
 "I do not believe that there will be any, except 
 that which the instigator of the little revenge had 
 desired, Mr. Bowles," Crane reassured him. It 
 was evident that the infatuated broker knew
 
 THE SHADOW ON THE DOOR 273 
 
 nothing of Dorrance 's threat nor the secret which 
 it involved, but had permitted his jealousy to be 
 worked upon to the end that he might be used. 
 "I wouldn't do any more impersonating over the 
 telephone, though, if I were you, even to please a 
 lady; that sort of thing is apt to lead to trouble, 
 but it won't in this case because you have come 
 clean. It may relieve your mind to know that 
 Mrs. Dorrance has no idea who her informant was, 
 and she never will if the matter goes no farther 
 from the other side. It was just a little quick 
 thinking and a right guess on my part." 
 
 * ' Sold ! ' ' Bowles laughed a trifle shamefacedly. 
 "I don't mind admitting that I acted on the im- 
 pulse of the moment, and I have regretted it since. 
 It was almost as caddish a thing as young Dor- 
 rance himself would be capable of doing. You 
 can wager that no further move will be made by 
 me or any one with whom I may have the slight- 
 est influence, and I appreciate your assurance that 
 you will not disclose what you have learned. You 
 turned the tables on me all right, Mr. Crane. To 
 think that I was such a conceited idiot as to offer 
 you my help ! ' ' 
 
 Before the detective could respond Henry 
 tered and approached his chair. "Mrs. Dorrance 
 is on the wire, sir. She says it is very urgent."
 
 274 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 Witii a word of apology to his companion Crane 
 rose and followed the steward to the booth in the 
 locker room, and the deep tones of Mrs. Dorrance, 
 choked with emotion, came to him as he lifted 
 the receiver. 
 
 "Mr. Crane I have called you up to tell you 
 that, since our conference, I have learned that the 
 theory I expounded to you is not tenable, and I 
 er I deeply regret having made assertions 
 which I could not prove. I shall hold you to your 
 promise to keep my confidence, and I am highly 
 grateful for it." Her voice broke in a throaty 
 sob. "I have discovered that certain articles 
 which I possessed were imitation, and I am going 
 to replace them without taking any other action 
 in the matter. I wish to avoid notoriety at all 
 costs. The change was effected when the articles 
 were taken into town over a month ago, presum- 
 ably to be cleaned, but I imagine that you have 
 already deduced that. I have decided, also 
 solely for the same reason of averting scandal 
 to keep another imitation which I thought was 
 real when I purchased it. You will understand, 
 I think." 
 
 "Quite, Mrs. Dorrance. Without impertinence 
 may I venture to say that I am truly sorry that 
 this situation should have arisen? Perhaps it
 
 THE SHADOW ON THE DOOR 275 
 
 will all turn out better than you think, and please 
 rest assured that I am honored by your confidence 
 and shall not betray it. ' ' 
 
 Cutting short her embarrassed thanks, he re- 
 turned to the dining room to find that his late 
 companion had vanished, but a little folded note 
 lay beside his own plate. He read: 
 
 Called away suddenly on important business. Wish you were 
 my partner; with your faculties we could corner the market. 
 I think you will admit that this luncheon is on me. 
 
 O.B. 
 
 Half an hour later the detective was rolling 
 along the highway toward the Sowerbys' house 
 over the hill. He was driving his own powerful 
 car which he had brought out from town on the 
 night of the murder. He passed Mrs. Carter's 
 little cottage on the way and caught a fleeting 
 glimpse of a soft blue gown and a figure clad in 
 a brown suit, standing close together under the 
 pergola, and he smiled to himself. The suit was 
 identical in shade with that worn by Bowles at 
 lunch, and the nature of the important business 
 that had called him away was self-evident. 
 
 Rutherford Sowerby had motored to the station 
 to meet some friends who were coming out from 
 town, but Mrs. Sowerby received him on a sunlit
 
 276 THE TEIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 veranda. She was dressed in a delicate pink which 
 brought out the rose tint of her cheeks, and she 
 looked like the veriest girl, as she lav back among 
 the flowered-chintz cushions of her hammock. 
 Crane could scarcely believe her the same woman 
 who had received him in the trailing violet drap- 
 eries, amid the exotic atmosphere of dim lights 
 and musk. Once mo re. he gave her grudging admi- 
 ration for the artistry with which she "endeavored 
 to create impressions, but, as before, the result 
 was faulty. The flush upon her cheeks was a tri- 
 fle too high to be natural, and the sun revealed 
 faint lines of maturity which belied the girlishness 
 of her manner. 
 
 "It is like summer, isn't it, Mr. Crane f" she 
 asked gushingly, as she patted a chair beside her 
 invitingly. "Fancy weather like this at such a 
 time in the year!" 
 
 "Indian summer," he amended smilingly. 
 
 Mrs. Sowerby shuddered prettily in mock dis- 
 gust. "Don't speak of it! I have lived in an at- 
 mosphere of Indian summer ever since I married ! 
 But what can I do for you, Mr. Crane? I hope 
 you have not come even to mention that horrid 
 affair of the other night. It seems ages ago, and 
 I am doing my best to forget all about it. ' '
 
 THE SHADOW ON THE DOOR 277 
 
 "I am sorry to be obliged to recall it to you, 
 then, Mrs. Sowerby." The detective's tone was 
 very grave. * ' It would not have been necessary to 
 do so, even momentarily, until the inquest, of 
 course, if you had been quite frank with me yester- 
 day." 
 
 "I?" Her blue eyes widened childishly, but 
 the color ebbed from her cheeks beneath his gaze, 
 leaving patches of pinkish purple which showed 
 ghastly in the sunlight. "I told you all I knew, 
 which wasn't anything, really." 
 
 "If you knew no more than you told me why 
 did you say that you were in the conservatory 
 when the shot was fired? I am sorry to contra- 
 dict so charming a lady, but you were not there, 
 Mrs. Sowerby. Where were you?" 
 
 She bit her lips, and her eyes narrowed, as she 
 replied coldly: "You have been misinformed. 
 I am not in the habit of being untruthful, Mr. 
 Crane, and no one can prove that I was not there." 
 
 1 l I am afraid that they can and will if you force 
 the issue, ' ' he insisted slowly. ' ' What did you see 
 or hear before or after that shot was fired, while 
 you lay upstairs in one of the resting rooms? I 
 am sorry to be so abrupt, but your husband will 
 return at any moment, and, unless you are abso-
 
 278 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 lutely candid with me, I must appeal to Mm to 
 persuade you." 
 
 "How dare you!" Mrs. Sowerby sat up sud- 
 denly, but one trembling hand went to her throat. 
 "I I think this is positively insulting of you to 
 attempt to coerce me! Who who told you that 
 they saw me up there 1 ' ' 
 
 "I am not at liberty to say, but their evidence 
 is incontrovertible. What did you see or hear 
 that you were afraid to tell?" 
 
 Her shudder was very real this time, and for 
 a moment she buried her face in her hands. When 
 she looked up it was with the cowed, shifting 
 glance of a trapped animal. 
 
 "A shadow!" she whispered. "I had turned 
 out the light in the room in which I was lying, but 
 the door was half open, and directly against it, 
 only an instant after the sound of the shot, it 
 seemed to me before I could collect myself to 
 rise I saw the shadow of a hand a hand holding 
 a revolver! It disappeared, and then I heard 
 the sound of the window at the end of the hall 
 opening and steps retreating I don't know 
 whether toward the rear or down the front stairs. 
 That is all, really all, Mr. Crane!" 
 
 "Then why did not you tell me this in the first 
 place, Mrs. Sowerby?" he asked.
 
 THE SHADOW ON THE DOOE 279 
 
 1 'Because because I thought I knew who it 
 was and my own reputation was at stake. ' ' She 
 spoke still in that almost toneless whisper. "I 
 I thought I recognized the shadow of that 
 hand!"
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE ROSE-LEAP EAB 
 
 * * A -^-^ ^ e admission that you saw that shadow 
 ** of a hand would hurt your reputation, Mrs. 
 Sowerby? You mean that, if you were called up- 
 on to aid in the identification of the person who 
 had passed down that hall, your reputation would 
 suffer?" 
 
 "If I were dragged into the case in any way, 
 forced to admit that I thought I knew who it was 
 the person would turn on me and ruin me ! ' ' she 
 declared fiercely. "You don't know what it is to 
 have an elderly, jealous husband and live sur- 
 rounded by a lot of gossiping cats ! At the mer- 
 est breath of scandal against me that reached his 
 ears Mr. Sowerby would cast me aside like an old 
 glove, and he has money and influence. I have 
 neither, and I have endured too much, all these 
 years, to be robbed now of what I have gained. 
 A woman has got to fight for herself in this 
 world!" 
 
 280
 
 THE EOSE-LEAF EAR 281 
 
 The veneer of childishness was gone from her 
 now, and at last he saw the real woman without 
 pose; shrewd, mercenary, with the greed of one 
 who had known stark necessity and meant now~ 
 to cling to her fleshpots at all costs, yet willing 
 to play with fire provided she were not burnt, 
 Maud Sowerby presented a mere distorted cari- 
 cature of the self that her world knew. 
 
 "You saw only the hand? There was a cuff 
 upon the wrist and a man's coat sleeve?" asked 
 Crane. 
 
 ' * I I do not know, ' ' she said in a lower, more 
 guarded tone. "I did not see the wrist, just the 
 hand with the pistol. It was like a close-up in 
 the motion pictures, only awful because it was 
 real!" 
 
 "But the mere shadow of a closed hand would 
 be almost impossible to recognize, as would the 
 sound of unseen footsteps, unless the person had 
 some peculiarity in his or her walk," Crane ex- 
 postulated. "You must have had some other rea- 
 son for suspecting who had fired that shot, and 
 I must remind you once more of the imminent ar- 
 rival of your husband. You are fighting for your- 
 self, Mrs. Sowerby, but I am fighting in the inter- 
 ests of justice, and I can afford to show no quar- 
 ter. You will forgive me, but it is almost a mir-
 
 282 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 acle that no breath of gossip has reached Mr. 
 Sowerby's ears, for it has reached mine from 
 many sources, and this is no time to mince mat- 
 ters. Whom did you think Mr. Dorrance had 
 killed?" 
 
 She started up with a little gasp and then sank 
 back again, her stubby hands clenching and un- 
 clenching in a storm of resentment and appre- 
 hension. Then the sound of a motor reached them 
 from the road, and she collapsed. "Oh, don't tell 
 him! I have done nothing wrong except just to 
 to flirt a little, but Dorry took it seriously, and 
 I was frightened to death ! If you will only wait 
 I will tell you everything ! ' ' 
 
 But the motor, instead of turning in at the drive, 
 passed along the road, and its sound diminished 
 in the distance. 
 
 * * Tell me now, Mrs. Sowerby. ' ' The detective 's 
 tone suggested more of command than request, 
 and he added significantly: "There is still time, 
 you see." 
 
 She hesitated, and then the words came in a lit- 
 tle rush. "I was bored, and Dorry amused me; 
 that was all there was to it on my side, but the 
 conceited fool actually thought that I was going 
 to run away with him ! We we had a quarrel in 
 the conservatory on the evening of the dance, and
 
 THE EOSE-LEAF EAR 283 
 
 I told him that I had only been playing with 
 him. Why, I didn't even care for him, and if 
 I had I would not have given up my position to 
 become a pariah* for any man! He was furious 
 and said that he had already burned both our 
 bridges, and I told him that he couldn't burn 
 mine, and, if he had got into some mess, as he had 
 hinted, he would have to get out of it the best way 
 he could, without trying to drag me in with him. 
 He said he was desperate, but I remember that I 
 replied I intended to protect myself no matter 
 what happened to him. 
 
 ' ' I was frightened, though, for I had never seen 
 him quite so fiercely in earnest before, and I won- 
 dered what reckless, dreadful thing he had done. 
 It spoiled my evening and gave me a headache, and 
 that was why I went upstairs to lie down for a 
 while. When I heard that shot I was sure for a 
 moment that he had killed himself, and I was stiff 
 with the horror of it! Then, when I saw the 
 shadow of that hand, I thought that, perhaps, he 
 had had killed my husband in some quarrel over 
 me, and I covered my eyes. That is why I saw 
 only the hand holding the pistol, but I heard the 
 opening of the window and the footsteps dying 
 away down the hall, just as I have told you. Of 
 course I am not accusing him, but he had hinted so
 
 284 THE TRIGGER OP CONSCIENCE 
 
 violently, during that quarrel, of trouble coming to 
 both of us that I did not doubt it was he. For a 
 minute I couldn't have moved nor screamed if I 
 had wanted to ! Then some one shouted for lights 
 from below, and I realized that I would be missed. 
 I jumped up and ran downstairs, passing Mrs. 
 Carter who was seated at the foot, and joined the 
 others crowding out to the veranda. But I never 
 reached there. I heard some one shrieking, and 
 everything seemed to spin about and disappear 
 in darkness around me. The next thing I knew I 
 was lying on a bench which had been brought 
 from the conservatory, and Mrs. Fraser was tak- 
 ing care of me. I haven't seen Dorry since, and 
 I never will again if I can avoid it. I hate the 
 very thought of him now when I think how foolish 
 I have been how nearly I allowed a silly flirtation 
 to wreck my life ! ' ' 
 
 "But, when you discovered that it was the sup- 
 posed club secretary who had been killed, why did 
 you still think that Mr. Dorrance was guilty?" 
 Crane asked. "Why do you think so now, Mrs. 
 Sowerby?" 
 
 * * Oh, I don 't know what to think ! ' ' She struck 
 one of the cushions with her clenched fist. "I 
 knew that Dorry had spent more money in the last 
 month than he could ever have wheedled out of
 
 THE ROSE-LEAF EAE 285 
 
 that wife of his, and I suppose the idea came to me 
 that there had been something well, funny, about 
 the club accounts in some way. I knew, too, that, 
 if he were ever suspected and forced to give an ac- 
 counting, he would tell about the attentions he has 
 showered on me and work the old Adam stunt: 
 ' The woman tempted me ! ' Now you know every- 
 thing, but I never will admit that I told it to you ! 
 I never will admit that I was anywhere but in the 
 conservatory, alone, w T hen that shot was fired." 
 
 "Are you quite sure that you saw that shadow 
 of a hand, or that you heard those footsteps at all, 
 Mrs. Sowerby?" Crane caught her shifting gaze. 
 "Are you quite sure that there was any one up- 
 stairs but yourself?" 
 
 "Do you mean that I dreamed it? You don't 
 suppose I would be stupid enough to mention it 
 if I had, do you?" 
 
 "Oh, no. I think it must have been real enough, 
 for the window was open, and the pistol was found 
 outside where it had been thrown. But it was a 
 woman's pistol, a little toylike thing, and the bul- 
 let taken from Doyle's breast fits it!" 
 
 Mrs. Sowerby rose, and her eyes above the gar- 
 ish patches of rouge were dilated with horror. 
 " ' A woman 's*pistol! r " she repeated in low, grat- 
 ing tones. "And you ask if I were not alone up-
 
 286 THE TBIGGEB OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 stairs! Do you mean to insinuate that I killed 
 him ? Why, I scarcely knew that the man existed ! 
 Why should I want to to murder our club secre- 
 tary! Are there no limits to what people in your 
 profession are permitted to say or do in your ef- 
 forts to find a victim and make out a case?" 
 
 "But are you sure that you considered him 
 merely the new clubhouse secretary? You were 
 embarrassed and confused in his presence from 
 the very day of his arrival. Did you not sus- 
 pect him of being other than he appeared? You 
 were afraid of him, you avoided him as much as 
 possible. Did you not fear that some gossip might 
 have reached your husband's ears, or those of 
 Mrs. Dorrance? It is your creed that women 
 must fight for themselves in this world. Some do 
 it with blandishments, and some with bullets. " 
 
 "Great heavens, not I!" She shrank away 
 from him as he, too, rose. "I did think, somehow, 
 that the man was watching me; his eyes seemed 
 to follow me all the time, particularly when Dorry 
 and I were together, and I admit that I wondered 
 once or twice if he might not be one of those 
 shabby sneaks who spy out divorce evidence, but 
 my conscience was clear. I had done no wrong, 
 and if Mrs. Dorrance couldn't keep her husband 
 to heel that was her own affair ! I never thought
 
 THE EOSE-LEAF EAR 287 
 
 seriously that it was my husband who had em- 
 ployed such a creature, for Mr. Sowerby is too 
 big a man for that sort of thing. I never had a 
 pistol or revolver in my hand in my life. I 
 wouldn't even know how one worked. Who could 
 have dared to hint at such a thing of me ? " 
 
 The detective w r as saved the necessity of a re- 
 ply by the second whirring of a motor, but this 
 one did not pass. It turned in at the driveway, 
 and, as it approached the house, Mrs. Sowerby 's 
 manner changed as though by magic. Her brow 
 cleared, her eyes reassumed their former child- 
 like stare, and she actually forced a dimple in 
 either cheek as she held out her hand to the de- 
 tective. "I must entertain my husband's guests, 
 Mr. Crane. But, perhaps, you would care to stay 
 and meet them?" 
 
 He accepted his dismissal and was about to act 
 upon it, but he was too late. Sowerby rounded 
 the corner of the house and insisted upon present- 
 ing his friends, a rotund financier, named Barn- 
 aby, and a young, but rising, mining engineer and 
 geologist, Charles Wharton. 
 
 * * Here 's the very chap I was telling you about, ' ' 
 Sowerby announced. "Sorry I wasn't home 
 when you arrived, Crane, but I suppose my wife 
 has been chattering to you, eh? Now that you
 
 288 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 are here you must come in with us, if only for a 
 few minutes. Maud will insist upon serving that 
 infernal tea of hers, but there's still some of my 
 private stock left, unless the butler has beaten me 
 to it!" 
 
 Crane tried to escape, but, finding it impossible 
 to do so, yielded with a good grace. Mrs. Sow- 
 erby appeared for a moment to greet her hus- 
 band 's friends, told the detective sweetly how glad 
 she was that he had reconsidered his decision not 
 to wait for their arrival, and then, at a growled 
 hint from Rutherford Sowerby, she retired, while 
 the four men repaired to the smoking room. 
 Crane did not drink with the others, but he lighted 
 a cigar and sat back studying the visitors. 
 
 Barnaby he put down as the average type of 
 hard-headed business man who had made his pile, 
 but the young engineer interested him. He was 
 rugged and deeply tanned, with keen, humorous 
 eyes and a frank, engaging manner. He had 
 lately come North from the Texas oil fields, it ap- 
 peared; he knew Ralph Fraser and was curious 
 to hear all about the tragedy at the club. 
 
 When it had been thoroughly discussed the 
 talk turned on celebrated murder cases in gen- 
 eral. The financier had once been a star witness 
 at the trial of a bank robber who had shot the
 
 THE ROSE-LEAF EAR 289 
 
 watchman. After the financier's story Crane 
 turned to the other guest: "Have you ever been 
 present at a murder trial, Mr. Wharton?" 
 
 The engineer shook his head, smiling with a 
 flash of white teeth in his sunburned face. "No, 
 Mr. Crane. Nearest I ever came to it was the 
 Walker affair in Dallas three or four years ago, 
 but the woman was never brought to trial for 
 lack of sufficient evidence." 
 
 " 'The Walker affair!' " Crane repeated. 
 
 "Don't you remember 1 ?" Wharton asked. 
 "Guess it didn't make much of a stir up here, but 
 it started out to be about the most sensational 
 case of its kind that Dallas ever had, and then it 
 ended in a fizzle. Young, pretty wife, rich, un- 
 attractive husband, good-for-nothing handsome ad- 
 mirer the old triangle, with a raven-haired, mod- 
 ern Lucretia Borgia as its apex, supposed to have 
 administered slow poison to friend husband. 
 Anyway he died, and people began to talk. When 
 it was found out that he had left his wife only 
 the third of his fortune, which the law demanded, 
 the admirer vanished, and the young widow could 
 not wholly conceal her chagrin. Finally she was 
 arrested, but later she was released, and no one 
 has heard of her since." 
 
 "I remember reading about that, I think,"
 
 290 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 Barnaby remarked. "Did you say she was 
 pretty? Didn't she have an odd sort of a de- 
 formity which gained her a nickname in the 
 press?" 
 
 Wharton nodded. " 'The girl with the rose- 
 leaf ear, ' : ' ' he quoted. ' * One ear was normal, but 
 the other was undeveloped and crumpled, not un- 
 like the leaf of a rose. The papers, when they 
 could get a snapshot of her with that ear showing, 
 played it up big. But she usually pulled down a 
 curl or two over it to hide it, although it wasn't 
 repulsive at all. Rather attractive than other- 
 wise, I thought. I've often seen her, but I never 
 met her." 
 
 "Where do all these people who are acquitted 
 of notorious crimes, or released through lack of 
 evidence, go to?" demanded Sowerby. "Not one 
 in a hundred lives it down; they disappear as 
 though they had vanished from the face of the 
 earth, and yet they must be dragging out exist- 
 ences somewhere." 
 
 The financier laughed. "Remember Etta 
 Wales, the girl who was acquitted of that murder 
 in a taxi in Philadelphia some little time ago?" 
 he asked. "She isn't exactly dragging out exist- 
 ence; she's one of the leading spirits in church 
 and social circles in quite a big town in upper New
 
 THE ROSE-LEAF EAE 291 
 
 York State, married to the richest man in the com- 
 munity, and a charming, if somewhat austere, 
 hostess. I know for I have dined at her house 
 more than once, and I don't think that any one 
 has ever had a suspicion of her identity up there. 
 You can't always tell!" 
 
 "Indeed you cannot," Crane agreed, as he rose. 
 1 ' Gentlemen, I'm delighted to have met you and 
 had this little talk, but I'm out here for work, you 
 know, and I must be getting on. Mr. Sowerby, 
 I'll see you at the inquest to-morrow." 
 
 His host followed him out into the hall. "Was 
 there anything that you wanted to see me about 
 particularly ? " he asked. ' ' Glad to be of any help 
 that I can." 
 
 "Then have you a private phone in a booth or 
 closet somewhere!" Crane asked. "There is a 
 message that I have got to get through to town 
 and which I forgot all about at the club. I 
 wouldn't impose on you, but my chief is waiting 
 on the other end of the line for it." 
 
 "Certainly! Right this way in that closet un- 
 der the stairs! It is a direct wire with no other 
 extensions in the house, so you won't be disturbed 
 nor listened in on." 
 
 "Nobody would hear anything very sensa- 
 tional!" Crane replied as he stepped into the
 
 292 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 closet. "It is just a report on some notes which 
 poor Doyle left behind him in his office." 
 
 The smile faded from his lips, however, when 
 he had closed the door upon his host, and his voice 
 tensed with suppressed excitement when he gave 
 the number of the agency in the city. It seemed 
 an age before he managed to get O'Hare himself 
 on the wire. 
 
 "That you, chief? Crane speaking. I want a 
 man out here on the first train with all the clip- 
 pings we've got relative to the Walker murder 
 case in Dallas, three or four years ago. . . . Yes, 
 I know it never went to trial. . . . Say, wasn 't one 
 of our boys down there about that time? . . . 
 Who, Lovell? Can you get hold of him? . . . 
 Good ! Send him down with the clippings and tell 
 him to make it snappy!" 
 
 He rang off before 'Hare could get in any re- 
 marks of his own, and, stepping out of the closet, 
 he found Sowerby waiting for him by the front 
 door. The latter would have detained him hos- 
 pitably once more, but Crane excused himself 
 firmly and took his leave. The gravel swirled 
 from under the wheels of his car, as he tore down 
 the driveway and careened out upon the highroad 
 leading to the club, and his racing thoughts kept 
 pace with it.
 
 THE ROSE-LEAF EAE 293 
 
 Mrs. Carter! Why had he not considered her 
 as a dominant figure in the case before? He had 
 sent a man down to Charlotte to look her up, it is 
 true, but merely to see that the story, which she 
 had told of her early life, was correct, as a matter 
 of routine. But had he? He recalled now that 
 it had struck him as odd from the first that a wo- 
 man of her evident good taste and artistic sense 
 should have worn her hair in a fashion which was 
 so obviously unbecoming, and he had concluded 
 that it must be to conceal some deformity. That 
 was the reason, when he had sent Walsh to town 
 with that message to the chief for a man to go to 
 Charlotte, he had mentioned the ears as a means 
 of identifying the erstwhile Nina Shirley, and he 
 spoke of black hair instead of red because on his 
 visit to her, while they stood together in her sun- 
 lit garden, a beam of light darting through the 
 trees had rested for a moment on her head, and 
 he saw that the silky strands of auburn were dis- 
 tinctly dark at the roots. 
 
 Could it be that the secret which x Philip Dor- 
 ranee had discovered concerning her had been that 
 of the "rose-leaf" ear, and had he remembered 
 the accounts of the case and held her identity 
 over her head in his- attempt to blackmail her? 
 
 "You speak of mercy!" Her words came back
 
 294 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 to him in a swift rush: " Women have shown me 
 scant mercy in my life. ' ' And again : ' ' The world 
 is wide, and Broadlawns is only a tiny corner of 
 it!" 
 
 Was she one of the driven ones of the earth, 
 of whom Sowerby had spoken, who, acquitted or 
 freed by the law, were yet eternally branded and 
 cast out by society, living in seclusion and fan- 
 cied security, only to be forced to move on when 
 their identity became known? 
 
 On reaching the club, he went directly to his 
 room and paced back and forth for an hour or 
 more, piecing together fact and theory. Doyle had 
 been in Texas three or four years before, and Mrs. 
 Carter had told Crane herself that Doyle seemed 
 to think he had seen her somewhere. Could it be 
 that in the expression of this thought he had signed 
 his own death warrant? She had had grim ex- 
 periences with detectives if she were, indeed, the 
 "Mrs. Walker" of that former case. Had she 
 recognized the type, perhaps even recognized the 
 man himself through his disguise and fancied him 
 upon her trail? 
 
 A new life was opening before her. She had a 
 certain position and the prospect of a marriage 
 which, at least, meant congeniality and added pros- 
 perity. Was she the type of woman to permit
 
 THE ROSE-LEAF EAR 295 
 
 all that to be swept away from her when, by one 
 daring act, she might avert exposure? Once mar- 
 ried to Bowles he could not discard her even if he 
 discovered that unfortunate episode, provided she 
 had legally changed her name to that which she 
 now bore, for the law had freed her. 
 
 The afternoon shadows lengthened, and twi- 
 light came while Crane mentally anathematized the 
 infrequency of Sunday trains and impatiently 
 awaited the arrival of Lovell with the press clip- 
 pings. Wharton, the engineer, had said that the 
 papers had played up any snapshots they could 
 obtain of the suspected woman with the crumpled 
 ear exposed. Surely among the clippings there 
 would be one or more such reproductions, and dyed 
 hair and a lapse of a few years could not bring un- 
 recognizable changes. A glance at the pictures 
 would tell him whether he was off upon another 
 wild-goose chase, or hac 1 at last hit upon the truth. 
 
 With dusk there came a knock upon his door, 
 and he sprang eagerly to open it. Samuel 
 Estridge stood upon the threshold. 
 
 "Heavens, man, what are you doing without a 
 light?" the attorney asked. "I trust I am not in- 
 truding on any very serious train of thought, but 
 you promised to look in on me at my lodge to-day, 
 and I waited as long as I could. Since the moun-
 
 296 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 tain did not come to Mahomet, behold Mahomet 
 has come to the mountain, bag and baggage or as 
 much as I could crowd into my car ! I am a neigh- 
 bor of yours now, Crane. " 
 
 The detective had switched on the light, and now 
 he gestured hospitably to a chair. ''Come in, 
 do, Mr. Estridge. Delighted to have you," he 
 said. "I'm sorry about not calling on you, but, to 
 be perfectly honest, I came by accident upon a 
 point which may loom up big in this case, and it 
 temporarily drove everything else from my mind. 
 But what is this about being a neighbor of mine? 
 Do you mean that you have left your lodge and 
 moved to the club?" 
 
 Estridge nodded. "It is not my lodge any 
 longer, but has become honeymoon villa," he an- 
 nounced. "I have turned it over, together with 
 my scandalized cook and manservant, to those two 
 infants, Gerald Lanclon and Alice, for a month. 
 Then they will move to town, and Gerald will en- 
 ter my office ; shouldn 't wonder if he did mighty 
 well in time, with the proper backing, and I am 
 going to see that he gets that. Sowerby will be 
 like a bear with a sore head, I am afraid, and I 
 cannot think of a simile that would be fitting for 
 old lady de Forest's state of mind, but I can't help 
 that. Those children are going to have a chance
 
 THE ROSE-LEAF EAR 297 
 
 for a little happiness before they start to 'buck 
 the game' together as Gerald expresses it. He 
 told me how you discovered their romance." 
 
 "How did you?" Crane laughed. 
 
 "I didn't. Gerald came to me for advice this 
 afternoon, and I made him return to the Frasers ', 
 where he had left her temporarily, and bring Alice 
 straight to the lodge; I was de trop, and that is 
 the reason why I could wait there no longer for 
 you. But what about this new point in your case? 
 Do you feel inclined to discuss it? I heard that 
 you lunched here with Bowles to-day; he's not 
 connected with it, is he ? " 
 
 Before the detective could reply there came a 
 second knock upon the door, and this time it was 
 Lovell hims.elf, armed with a huge brief case. 
 Estridge rose, but Crane stopped him. 
 
 "Don't go just yet, Mr. Estridge. This is Lov- 
 ell, one of our operatives from the head office in 
 town and a pal of poor Jim Doyle. Did you bring 
 the clippings?" 
 
 "Right here." The operative opened his brief 
 case upon the bed, and a mass of newspaper cut- 
 tings fell out. "Nothing new turned up here 
 about that Walker business, has there? These 
 are from the principal Dallas papers." 
 
 "Dallas?" the attorney asked, as Crane bent
 
 298 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 eagerly over the clippings. "Do you mean the 
 case of the Walker woman who was arrested on 
 suspicion of having poisoned her husband?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," Lovell responded. "Doyle and I 
 were in Dallas at the time, and we saw her at the 
 inquest. She was let off later for lack of evidence, 
 but the case is still open, and it is a rule of our 
 office to collect and keep all clippings in big crim- 
 inal cases until they are definitely closed, one way 
 or another." 
 
 "Mr. Estridge r> Crane had straightened and 
 held a double-column strip of newspaper to the 
 light for a minute of close scrutiny "you were 
 asking me just now about the new point which 
 I thought I had discovered. If you will look at 
 the face pictured here I think you will find your 
 answer. ' '
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 "THE TRIANGLE TURN" 
 
 T AMPLIGHT was gleaming softly through 
 -*-^ amber-tinted curtains on the lower floor of 
 Mrs. Carter's pretty cottage. A high-powered car 
 drew up at a discreet distance down the road, and 
 three men alighted. 
 
 "Better come up to the house with us, sheriff; 
 you can wait with Lovell on the porch,'* Crane 
 suggested, as he switched off the lights. 
 
 "You didn't think I was going to sit back here 
 and snooze with the warrant in my pocket, did 
 you!" the sheriff asked, easing his stout body 
 through the door of the tonneau. ' ' Don't you for- 
 get to fix it so that the front door is left open 
 behind you, after her maid lets you in. ' ' 
 
 They proceeded up the driveway, and when they 
 were close to the ^juse Crane halted. A low- 
 geared, long-hooded runabout, whose lines he re- 
 called, stood in the side road. 
 
 ' ' Bowles must have stayed to dinner. He wasn 't 
 
 299
 
 300 THE TKIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 at the club, and that looks like his car parked 
 there." 
 
 "It is," Sheriff Coburn replied grimly. "I've 
 taken him up enough times for speeding, to know 
 it, all right!" 
 
 1 1 That is awkward, but we ought to have antici- 
 pated it," the detective remarked, adding: "Which 
 is the drawing-room, sheriff!" 
 
 "The row of windows to the left of the front 
 door." 
 
 "Then come on. I'll manage to disarrange the 
 curtains at one of those windows so that you can 
 look in. When I give you the high sign you will 
 know what to do." 
 
 They ascended the steps of the little porch as 
 lightly as possible, and Crane rang the bell while 
 the other two crouched in the shadows. Presently 
 a trim maid appeared and, after a murmured word 
 or two, admitted him, closing the door tight, but 
 almost immediately it opened again, and a knife- 
 like ray of light streamed forth. 
 
 "He's fixed the door, all right!" said the sheriff 
 with satisfaction. "Now watch the windows and 
 see if any of the curtains move." 
 
 To the waiting Lovell it seemed hours before 
 the draperies at one of the windows in the center 
 of the row were swept aside as though by a care-
 
 "THE TRIANGLE TURN" 301 
 
 less hand, and, although they fell back into place, 
 there remained a narrow aperture through which 
 they could obtain a view of the whole room. 
 
 Ogden Bowles was seated a little apart, as 
 though taking no share in the conversation, but 
 he was watching every move through narrowed 
 lids. In the center of the room Mrs. Carter 
 leaned back among the cushions on a low couch, 
 and Crane occupied a chair facing her. 
 
 "Look!" The sheriff nudged his companion. 
 1 ' The light of that lamp is shining full on her now, 
 and you can see her plain. Is it the same wo- 
 man?" 
 
 "I couldn't swear to it from here," Lovell re- 
 sponded after an interval. "Red hair does make 
 a difference, and remember I only saw her a couple 
 of times, years ago. Oh, what is Crane doing?" 
 
 A tall vase of autumn flowers rested upon a 
 stand beside the couch upon which Mrs. Carter was 
 seated. With an awkward gesture the detective 
 overturned it. Bowles sprang to catch it, but he 
 collide'd with Crane, and the latter, in putting out 
 his hand to save himself, touched Mrs. Carter's 
 hair. She shrank back, but not before he had 
 swept aside the smooth coil which was banded 
 down tightly over her left ear, exposing for an 
 instant the tiny, crumpled lobe of pink flesh. At
 
 302 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 the same moment he motioned almost impercep- 
 tibly toward the windows. 
 
 1 'Come on! That's our signal," the sheriff ex- 
 claimed beneath his breath. 
 
 "And that's the woman, too!" added Lovell. 
 ' ' Easy now ! Don 't open the door any wider than 
 you can help." 
 
 They slipped through the front door and down 
 the hall to the drawing-room. They stationed 
 themselves beside the threshold, just outside the 
 range of vision of those within. 
 
 ' ' It doesn 't matter in the least about the vase, ' ' 
 Mrs. Carter was saying. "But my hair! You 
 must pardon me for a moment while I go and 
 rearrange it, and I will send Letty to mop up the 
 water which was spilled. ' ' 
 
 "Don't boither about your hair, Mrs. Carter. 
 It is too late now." Crane spoke with deliberate 
 significance. 
 
 " 'Too late?' " she asked. 
 
 "Yes. You did not wear it like that down in 
 Dallas four years ago, did you? But your name 
 was not 'Carter' then either." 
 
 "What do you mean?" she demanded sharply. 
 "Who is this mysterious woman I am accused of 
 being? Ogden, I don't understand it! First 
 Doyle and now Mr. Crane "
 
 "THE TRIANGLE TURN" 303 
 
 "And Doyle was shot," Crane interrupted her. 
 "This is the woman I know yon to be! I have 
 just proved it by creating a little diversion so that 
 I might lift the hair with which yonr left ear is 
 covered. ' ' 
 
 There was a rustle of paper, a little cry, and 
 then the sound of a man's half-suppressed oath. 
 
 "Don't believe him, Ogden! Don't look at that 
 picture ! It is not I ! " Her voice rose in an ago- 
 nized wail. l i The man must be mad ! ' ' 
 
 "Lovell!" called Crane. "Sheriff Coburn!" 
 
 The operative entered with the sheriff at his 
 heels, and the woman confronted them, both hands 
 nervously clutching her blouse. 
 
 "Do you know this lady I" Crane demanded of 
 the operative. ' ' Have you ever seen her before 7 ' ' 
 
 "Yes, sir. I saw her in Dallas four years ago. 
 She was under arrest for murdering her husband 
 by poison. Her hair was black then, but it is Mrs. 
 Walker," Lovell responded promptly. "I'd 
 swear to it anywhere. Look out! Stop her, 
 somebody ! ' ' 
 
 With one last, despairing glance at Bowies' 
 stricken, but implacable, face the woman had 
 darted around the table, crashing the chairs be- 
 hind her to impede the progress of the three men 
 who sought to seize her. Then she disappeared
 
 304 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 out of a small side door, slamming it after her. 
 
 "It works with a spring lock," Crane exclaimed, 
 as he tried vainly to wrench it open. "Help me 
 to break it down, Lovell!" 
 
 It required the united efforts of all three, how- 
 ever, to batter the stout little door down. Bowles 
 stood where he had been when she made her hur- 
 ried flight, and he was staring with dazed eyes at 
 the pictured face in the newspaper clipping which 
 he held in his hands. 
 
 Just as the sheriff and the two detectives got the 
 door down at last and dashed out upon the ve- 
 randa they heard the humming of a powerful mo- 
 tor, and the low-geared runabout shot past them 
 and down the drive, gathering momentum as it 
 fled like a live thing. 
 
 "Quick! She's taken Bowies' car. If she is 
 anything like as good a driver as he we will have 
 a race for it!" Crane exclaimed as they rushed 
 across the lawn and burst through the hedge to 
 where their own car waited. 
 
 "At the rate she was going when she turned 
 into the road, if she isn't a good driver, it means 
 death," Lovell declared. "Come on, sheriff." 
 
 They piled into the car, and Crane settled him- 
 self down grimly behind the wheel. Far in ad- 
 vance of them, before he started his own motor,
 
 "THE TRIANGLE TURN" 305 
 
 the detective could hear the diminishing roar of the 
 car ahead, and he knew that it meant indeed a 
 race. 
 
 "She ain't aiming to go through the village at 
 that rate, is she?" Sheriff Coburn asked, as they 
 rolled down the road with ever-increasing speed. 
 "No, she's turning off at the Corners and head- 
 ing, I guess, for the station at Watkins, to catch 
 the midnight express. A woman in a blue dress, 
 without any hat nor coat, couldn't get far ! Great 
 Scott! I never went so fast I couldn't breathe, 
 before ! ' * 
 
 Then he lapsed into silence. When they took 
 the turning at the Corners with a swirling skid 
 of the heavy back wheels an unconscious groan of 
 dismay escaped him. 
 
 The road before them was straight and fairly 
 level, and they were gaining on the car ahead. 
 The moon, which had emerged from the cloudlike 
 haze of earlier evening, showed them the flutter of 
 a blue gown, as the runabout rocked from side to 
 side of the road and seemed scarcely to touch the 
 ground. 
 
 All at once the sheriff gave a sudden cry of 
 horror. "Catch her before she gets to the next 
 turn of the road, or she'll be killed, sure !" he said, 
 bending forward to call into Crane's ear. "It's
 
 306 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 the Triangle Turn, the sharpest in all the country 
 round !" 
 
 "Doing my best!" called back the detective. 
 "Hold fast! I'm going to let her out!" 
 
 Inch by inch and yard by yard they crept up to 
 the car ahead, but, just when they seemed about 
 to overtake it, it would give a sudden spurt and 
 leap forward, scudding like a cloud before a gale. 
 Once they caught a glimpse of the white patch 
 which was her face as she glanced over her shoul- 
 der to see how close her pursuers were, but her 
 car gave a hideous lurch and careened almost 
 across the road, and she did not look back again. 
 
 "There's the Triangle just ahead!" shouted the 
 sheriff. "Good heavens, can't we stop her! If 
 you don't but you'll have to slow up, or we'll be 
 done for ourselves ! ' ' 
 
 If Crane heard he gave no answer. He was 
 watching that flutter of blue whipping the wind 
 from the pursued car, gauging its speed and its 
 chances of rounding that turn so menacingly near. 
 He knew that he could not overtake her now until 
 that point in the road was reached, and he slowed 
 down. 
 
 The runabout shot forward as though sped 
 from a cannon's mouth, and suddenly its lone oc- 
 cupant seemed to be aware of her own danger.
 
 "THE TRIANGLE TURN" 307 
 
 A half-smothered cry was borne back to them, and 
 then gamely the runabout swerved to essay the 
 turn. 
 
 "Can she make it?" Lovell asked. "No! 
 She's over!" 
 
 There had come a sudden sharp crack from the 
 runabout, and it reeled madly to the side of the 
 road, overturning in the ditch with a sickening 
 crash. The detective halted his own car by a 
 straightaway dive through a fence and into a 
 meadow of low, marshy ground. Here he circled 
 and slowed down, coming to a stop by the broken 
 fence. The three men with electric torches leaped 
 from it and crossed the road to where the wreck 
 of the runabout lay, one white arm and hand 
 streaked with crimson, protruding from beneath it. 
 She did not move nor seem to breathe when they 
 lifted the car from her and dragged her out. Lov- 
 ell procured some water from a near-by brook and 
 dashed it over her face, and then her eyelids flut- 
 tered and parted, and a faint moan escaped her. 
 
 She gazed bewilderedly up at the three for a 
 moment and then consciousness returned, and she 
 spoke faintly: "This is ... better so. I am 
 Nell Walker. I suspected that Doyle was a detec- 
 tive . . . that new proof had been found against 
 me down in Dallas. As soon as I was sure I shot
 
 308 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 him. I stood near the foot of the staircase and 
 fired, then I ran back and threw my pistol . . . 
 out of the hall window. When the lights went 
 up I was sitting on the stairs where I had been 
 standing. No one knew I had even moved." 
 
 "Don't you try to talk now, ma'am," the sher- 
 iff implored her soothingly. "Are you in any 
 pain!" 
 
 "No. That's the odd part of it, and my brain 
 is clear, but I can't move a muscle. It must be 
 my spine that is broken. My dear Mr. Coburn, 
 if you and Mr. Crane want the truth from my lips 
 you will have to let me talk now and talk quickly. 
 I think you understand. I did kill my husband in 
 Dallas ... in the manner and for the motive . . . 
 that the coroner tried to establish. I had known 
 the real Nina Shirley ... in Charlotte years ago 
 ... we had been at school together, and we always 
 corresponded until my trouble. I kept track of 
 her, though, and when she died, just before I came 
 here, I took her name and became her. ' ' 
 
 Her eyes were fixed on Crane, who had been 
 writing rapidly on a leaf torn from his notebook, 
 and now, as he looked up expectantly, she smiled. 
 "My confession? I've heard of such things. 
 But I think that is all. Those lights you are 
 carrying . . . gone out, haven't they? . . . And
 
 "THE TRIANGLE TURN" 309 
 
 What is the matter . . . with the moon? . . . 
 Everything is growing dark. ' ' 
 
 The three men glanced from their gleaming 
 electric torches to the brilliant moonlight and then 
 at each other and understood. The sheriff felt 
 vaguely about his head to remove the cap which 
 had blown off at the first turning, while Crane 
 slipped a pen between the woman's nerveless, 
 stained fingers and guided them as they made a 
 wavering cross below what he had written. 
 
 Her head seemed to settle into the coat which 
 Lovell had folded beneath it, and her eyelids 
 drooped. They thought her already gone when 
 she spoke again. 
 
 "My husband ... no defense, but with Doyle 
 ... if I hadn't been absolutely sure . . . would 
 never have . . . pulled trigger. ' ' 
 
 She sighed gently and was still. For a long 
 moment no one spoke or moved and then Crane 
 drew a handkerchief from his pocket and laid it 
 softly over the face upturned in the moonlight. 
 
 "And the necklace?" Samuel Estridge queried. 
 "Odd that the mystery of its theft and reappear- 
 ance in the dragon lantern was never cleared up, 
 isn't it! That bauble of Mrs. de Forest's was the 
 indirect cause of it all; the death of poor Jim
 
 Doyle and the unmasking of Mrs. Carter. I can- 
 not believe it was Murdock, for he has run abso- 
 lutely straight in the new position I found for 
 him." 
 
 It was a balmy May night in the following 
 spring and he and his week-end guest, 'Hare's 
 star detective, were smoking together on the ter- 
 race before his lodge. 
 
 Renwick Crane smiled into the darkness. 
 
 ' ' That little affair was solved the day after the 
 inquest but as Mrs. de Forest had regained her 
 property intact and the charge she could have 
 brought in any event was merely a minor one she 
 decided to avoid the notoriety of a prosecution,'' 
 he remarked. 
 
 * 'Really!" Estridge leaned forward in his chair. 
 "You cannot mean that it was Alice, after all! 
 She has forgiven the elopement and made much of 
 the young couple, particularly since Landon came 
 into all that money ! ' ' 
 
 "No, it wasn't her niece, nor was there any ac- 
 tual robbery," replied the detective. "I have 
 given you my confidence before this, Mr. Estridge, 
 and I see no reason for withholding it now, es- 
 pecially as the er borrower of the necklace is 
 no longer a member of your country club." 
 
 "Ogden Bowles!" the lawyer ejaculated.
 
 "THE TEIANGLE TURN" 311 
 
 " Exactly." Crane nodded. "I had his finan- 
 cial record looked up and the report down to 
 the most minute detail of his transactions during 
 September and October reached me the day after 
 the inquest. He was a born gambler, you know, 
 a plunger, who took probably the longest chances 
 of any operator on the Street and in September 
 just before the Harvest Dance he was virtually on 
 the rocks, at the ultimate limit of his resources. 
 Three days later he covered his holdings with a 
 large sum of money considerably over a hundred 
 thousand dollars, and saved himself. From then 
 until Hallowe'en he was on the right side of the 
 market, completely recouped his losses and made 
 a phenomenal profit besides. Where did that 
 money come from? What collateral security had 
 he been able to produce to obtain it ? Harlier had 
 valued Mrs. de Forest's necklace at something 
 over two hundred thousand, and I simply put two 
 and two together and accused him point-blank. 
 
 "He had been hard hit by the disclosure con- 
 cerning Mrs. Carter 's identity and her tragic death 
 had completely unnerved him, so that at -my attack 
 he broke down and told me the truth without 
 reservation. On the night of the Harvest Dance, 
 as he was stepping into his car, he saw something 
 shining in the driveway at his feet and, picking it
 
 312 THE TRIGGER OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 up, discovered that it was the famous necklace. 
 Mrs. de Forest had been out on the veranda dur- 
 ing the evening and it must have slipped from her 
 neck and fallen over the rail, for if you remem- 
 ber the clasp was defective." 
 
 Estridge nodded without speaking and the de- 
 tective went on : 
 
 ' ' Bowles ' first impulse was to return it, and then 
 he remembered his desperate need, and the gam- 
 bling instinct arose within him. If he could put 
 the necklace up as security, recoup his losses and 
 regain it again he could place it where it would be 
 easily found and no one would be the wiser. He 
 took the chance and won, as we know, and on the 
 night of Hallowe'en he came early, just after the 
 lights had been strung on the veranda, and coiled 
 the necklace into the dragon lantern. Then he 
 left and returned with Mrs. Carter. ' ' 
 
 " Could Doyle have seen him putting the neck- 
 lace into the lantern?" asked Estridge. "It must 
 have been already lighted." 
 
 "It was, but from some notes which Jim Doyle 
 left behind him I think he became suspicious about 
 some one else who later from an entirely different 
 motive hovered about that window. Doyle, then, 
 in all probability, investigated, discovered the 
 necklace and stood guard beneath it to catch the
 
 "THE TRIANGLE TURN" 313 
 
 thief red-handed, when the shot came which ended 
 everything for him. ' ' 
 
 "Poor chap!" There was a little silence and 
 then the lawyer added: "We all supposed that 
 Bowles resigned from the club and went to live 
 abroad after selling his seat on the Stock Ex- 
 change because of his tragic memories of Mrs. 
 Carter." 
 
 "I think that was a contributary reason, but he 
 promised me that if he were not prosecuted he 
 would leave the country and never return. He 
 could not in any event have continued to play the 
 Wall Street game for his nerve was gone; the 
 knowledge that the woman he loved was a double 
 murderess had broken him, heart and spirit. ' ' 
 
 "And what a ghastly mistake that second mur- 
 der was!" Estridge threw his cigar end out over 
 the terrace and watched the glowing arc of its 
 descending spark until it vanished in the dewy 
 grass of the lawn. "Your unfortunate colleague 
 never even suspected Mrs. Carter 's identity." 
 
 "No. Her hidden guilt made her self-con- 
 scious." Crane paused and added: "It was 
 from no logical conviction, but the goad of her 
 own conscience alone which pulled that trigger." 
 
 THE END
 
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