I
 
 /
 
 At One -Thirty 
 
 * 1 *- OP CALIF. LIBRARYi
 
 Cain ! "
 
 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 
 
 A MYSTERY 
 
 BY 
 
 ISABEL OSTRANDER 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
 
 W. W. FAWCETT
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY 
 W. J. WATT & COMPANY
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I THE PASSING OF GARRET APPLETON.. 5 
 
 II THE INSTRUMENT OF DEATH 22 
 
 III LIES 42 
 
 IV THE SISTERS 60 
 
 V "CAIN!" 79 
 
 VI THE CUFF-LINK 94 
 
 VII THIRTY PIECES OF SILVER 109 
 
 VIII IN THE WATCHES OF THE NIGHT. . . . 124 
 
 IX DORIS 138 
 
 X A NEW TURNING 152 
 
 XI AT HANRAHAN'S SUGGESTION i6g 
 
 XII DEVIOUS WAYS 185 
 
 XIII THE END OF A FALSE SCENT 204 
 
 XIV A GLIMMER OF LIGHT 222 
 
 XV AT HALF-PAST FOUR IN THE MORNING 241 
 
 XVI NATALIE 261 
 
 XVII FAILURE AND VICTORY 281 
 
 XVIII AFTERMATH 297 
 
 3 
 
 2131856
 
 At One -Thirty
 
 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE PASSING OF GARRET APPLETON 
 
 RISING from his chair, Damon Gaunt crossed 
 the library to the window, and flung it 
 wide, drinking in the sultry air of early 
 autumn as though he loved it, listening to the 
 familiar noises of the street with ears eagerly at- 
 tuned. Although, in passing,- he had touched the 
 different articles of furniture in his path casually 
 and lightly, with those long, slim, wonderfully 
 sensitive fingers of his, it had been but absent- 
 mindedly, not gropingly hesitant, and it was not 
 until one looked straight and level into his 
 soft, deep-brown eyes that one realized they were 
 sightless. 
 
 He sighed deeply as he stood at the window, 
 his fingertips touching delicately here and there 
 the trailing tendrils of ivy that reached out boldly 
 from the trellised vine, which clambered over the 
 brick walls of the house. No man loved life 
 vibrant, pulsating life more than Damon Gaunt, 
 nor more deeply yearned to know it to the full. 
 
 5
 
 6 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 But he had never permitted himself to regret the 
 sight, which from birth had been denied to him, 
 save in his life-work, the detection of crime. 
 
 The man's condition and his career would seem 
 in themselves to be paradoxical. How a being 
 deprived of one of the senses by the majority 
 considered the most essential could engage, and 
 successfully, in a profession that required every 
 attribute, every resource, known to mankind, de- 
 veloped to the ?zth degree, seemed inexplicable. 
 Yet Damon Gaunt had never lost a case. 
 
 He turned suddenly from the window, and stood 
 expectant, although no sound audible to the normal 
 ear had broken the stillness within the house. In 
 a moment, however, a softly treading footfall 
 might have been heard on the carpeted hall; 
 there was a moment's hesitation, and then a quick 
 tap at the door, accompanied by an involuntary 
 deferential cough. 
 
 Damon Gaunt smiled slightly to himself. He 
 had never been able to break Jenkins of that un- 
 necessary note of warning. 
 
 "Come in!" he said. 
 
 Jenkins entered, with a small salver in his hand. 
 
 "Card, sir. Gentleman to see you." 
 
 Gaunt approached, and took the card from the 
 salver. The corners of his mobile, smooth-shaven 
 mouth twitched again. He had at least succeeded 
 in breaking Jenkins of the habit of shoving things 
 into his hand,
 
 THE PASSING OF GAERET APPLETON 7 
 
 His fingertips traveled over the heavily engraved 
 card; but the lettering upon it was too elaborate 
 for his sense of touch to spell for him. He turned 
 to a large writing-desk in a corner. 
 
 "Miss Barnes, the name, please." 
 
 A tall, angular, precise young woman came for- 
 ward, and took the card from his hand. 
 
 "Mr. Yates Appleton." 
 
 "Yates Appleton?" What was it that the name 
 seemed vaguely to convey? Oh, yes! Something 
 his secretary, Miss Barnes, had read to him in the 
 morning papers, lately. The man had tried unsuc- 
 cessfully to break a will, or something of the sort. 
 He must be looked up later, perhaps. 
 
 "Show him up, please, Jenkins." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 Without a word, Miss Barnes gathered up her 
 papers, and passed into an inner room, and Gaunt 
 seated himself in a deep leather chair, and waited. 
 Presently, returning footfalls could be heard 
 Jenkin's regular, cat-like tread, and shorter, ner- 
 vous, uneven steps accompanying him. Both 
 paused at the door. 
 
 "Come in, Mr. Appleton. That will do, Jen- 
 kins. I'll ring if we need you." 
 
 Mr. Appleton crossed the threshold, dropped the 
 cane he was carrying with a clatter upon the floor, 
 retrieved it, and stood before Gaunt's chair. He 
 was a man of perhaps the early thirties, slightly 
 thick of neck and girth, slightly bald, with a round,
 
 8 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 puffy pink face, and round, staring blue eyes. Just 
 now, the face was mask-like with horror, and the 
 eyes were telescoped, like those of a defunct crab; 
 but of these indications Gaunt was, of course, in 
 ignorance. 
 
 "Sit down, Mr. Appleton," he said, composedly, 
 "and tell me what I can do for you." 
 
 Mr. Appleton laid his hat and stick upon the 
 writing-table, sniffing nervously as he did so, and 
 seated himself. 
 
 "Mr. Gaunt, I've come on a terrible affair. My 
 brother, Garret Appleton, was found dead this 
 morning, in his den, with a bullet in his heart! 
 He'd been murdered in the night!" 
 
 The young man shuddered, and licked his dry 
 lips, his nostrils twitching. 
 
 "Murdered! Did anyone hear the shot fired?" 
 
 "No. That's the strangest part of it, although 
 it's a huge house, and the servants all sleep away 
 up-stairs, above the rooms of the family and guests, 
 and the den is on the ground floor, at the back. 
 It's an awful thing Mr. Gaunt, awful! It's just 
 about going to kill my mother the notoriety, and 
 all!" 
 
 "Notoriety! And grief?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, grief, of course. That was what I 
 meant." He sniffed again, as he spoke, and rubbed 
 his blunt, snout-like nose with his gloved finger. 
 
 "Was the weapon found?" 
 
 "No, certainly not! How would it be? It was
 
 THE PASSING OF GARRET APPLETON 9 
 
 murder, I tell you murder! The man whoever 
 it was carried the revolver away with him, of 
 course. The motive was robbery, that was plain 
 the window was open and my brother's watch, 
 | purse, and jewelry gone." Mr. Appleton sniffed. 
 "My mother wanted me to come at once for you, 
 before the police get trying to rake up family 
 scandal. My car is outside 
 
 "I understand. Very well, then, Mr. Appleton, 
 we will go at once." Gaunt rose, and pressed a 
 button in the wall. " But just a word, first, be- 
 fore we start. I say this for your own good. You 
 will need all your wits about you, and all your 
 nerve, if I'm not mistaken. Take some disinterested 
 advice, and go a little light on that cocaine for the 
 next few days." 
 
 Young Mr. Appleton gave a violent start, and 
 drew in his breath sharply. 
 
 "I don't know what you mean!" he blustered. 
 
 "Your constant sniffing and rubbing your nose 
 gave you away," Gaunt explained, quietly. 
 
 Mr. Appleton crumpled. 
 
 "Oh, well, it isn't a habit with me, anyway. I 
 started in my college days, just for a lark. I can 
 give it up whenever I want to, without the slightest 
 trouble in the world!" 
 
 "Then I should advise you to do so speedily. 
 Jenkins, my hat and coat." 
 
 Speeding up-town in the fast motor, Gaunt 
 turned to his new client.
 
 10 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 "Mr. Appleton, in undertaking your case, you 
 must know that I demand the absolute confidence 
 of those by whom I am employed. There must 
 be no retaining of facts, no half-measures. The 
 questions I ask must be answered, whether they 
 seem relevant or not, fully and truthfully, with no 
 reservations. Is that understood?" 
 
 "Why, y-yes, of course, Mr. Gaunt; that goes 
 without saying. We want you to find out the 
 t-truth!" 
 
 "How many are there in the family the im- 
 mediate family?" 
 
 "The household, you mean? My mother, my 
 brother and his wife, his wife's sister, and myself. 
 But my mother and I are staying there only tem- 
 porarily, while our own house is being done over.'* 
 
 "That is all except the servants? No guests?" 
 
 "None staying in the house. There were some 
 people there last evening, old family friends. 
 The police are at the house, now," he added with 
 nervous irrelevance. "Infernal nuisance, this whole 
 terrible affair! My mother relies upon you to 
 prevent as much of the fuss and bother as you 
 can." 
 
 "The fuss and bother, as you term it, are, I am 
 forced to tell you, indispensable in a case of sudden 
 and violent death, from whatever cause doubly 
 so when crime is in question. They are very 
 necessary to the cause of justice. Mr. Appleton, 
 you speak of the possibility of the police raking
 
 THE PASSING OF GAERET APPLETON 11 
 
 up family scandal. What scandal is there for 
 them to discover?" 
 
 "None, really." Mr. Appleton sniffed hastily. 
 "The only thing is, one doesn't care to have family 
 jars and unpleasantness brought to light. My 
 mother and I dislike that is, we don't get on at 
 all with Garret's wife and her sister, and there have 
 been dissensions lately rows, if you like that 
 better which the police might try to make moun- 
 tains out of. That's all. Every family has that 
 sort of thing rows. But the police are so stupid 
 they might try to look beyond the very obvious 
 cause." 
 
 " I understand, perfectly. By whom was the 
 body discovered, and when?" 
 
 " At about half-past six this morning." Mr. 
 Appleton replied to the last part of the question 
 first. "Katie, the housemaid, came down to 
 straighten the room, and found my brother lying 
 dead on the floor, and her screams aroused the 
 whole house." 
 
 "You awakened with the rest, and rushed down?" 
 
 "No-o. The fact is, Mr. Gaunt, I'm not a light 
 sleeper at any time, and I'd been out pretty late 
 last night. It was some time after Katie found 
 my brother's body before the commotion wakened 
 me, and quite awhile before I roused from my 
 sleepy stupor enough to realize that something 
 unusual was going on. When I did get down- 
 stairs, I found all the household collected in the
 
 12 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 den, and most of the servants crowded in the door- 
 way. Mother had sent for the doctor; but any- 
 one could have seen it would be of no use. Natalie, 
 my brother's wife, was in a state of collapse, and 
 Barbara, her sister, was attending her. Garret 
 was leaning back in his chair, with his face all 
 distorted and gray, and his eyes staring, and there 
 was a great splashing blood-stain on his shirt- 
 front. But I'll never forget the look on his face. 
 It was the most horrible I have ever seen. . . . Here 
 we are now, Mr. Gaunt," he added, as the car slowed 
 down, and then stopped, with a jerk. ' This way." 
 
 He led the detective swiftly through the lines 
 of police, sternly holding back the curious rabble 
 of morbid sight-seers, up the great stone steps, 
 and the massive vestibule doors closed behind them. 
 There was a subdued, soundless stir, a tenseness 
 in the air of the silent house, which led unmistak- 
 ably in one direction, and was more acutely mani- 
 fest to the detective than to the drug-dulled per- 
 ceptions of his companion. 
 
 At the door of the den, they paused, and young 
 Mr. Appleton hung back, his breath coming in great 
 gasps, his hand clutching Gaunt's arm in a sud- 
 den, involuntary grip of nervous terror and dread, 
 only to be as quickly withdrawn. 
 
 "Mr. Gaunt! How does it happen that you 
 are here? I'm glad you've come." 
 
 A man's step sounded, and a large, powerful hand 
 gripped the detective's in a hearty grasp.
 
 THE PASSING OF GARRET APPLETON 13 
 
 " Coroner Hildebrand!" Gaunt's exclamation of 
 pleasure at a well known voice, with a certain 
 admixture of relief at the scarcely expected presence 
 of a friend and former ally on more than one dif- 
 ficult case, was interrupted by a woman's voice 
 the coldest, most implacably hardened, that he had 
 ever heard. 
 
 " I sent for Mr. Gaunt, Coroner," the voice 
 said. "I wish him to represent my interests and 
 those of my family in this most shocking, most 
 terrible affair." There was the rustle of a silk 
 garment, and the voice sounded again, this time 
 close to Gaunt's side. '' I am Mrs. Appleton, Mrs. 
 Finlay Appleton, the mother The voice broke 
 oddly, and there was a strained silence. It was 
 not the break of emotion, of uncontrollable maternal 
 emotion face to face with tragedy. There was 
 more an element of craft in it, as if a sudden thought, 
 an excess of caution, had sealed her lips. Yet her 
 sentence seemed to have been, on the face of it, 
 simple enough : she had started to say that she was 
 the mother of the dead man. Why had she checked 
 herself? 
 
 "I am glad to have come, if I can be of any 
 assistance, Mrs. Appleton." Gaunt said, after 
 waiting vainly an appreciable moment for her to 
 continue. " I shall want to have a little talk with 
 you later, as well as with the other members of your 
 family and the servants; but just now my business 
 lies with Coroner Hildebrand. Coroner, you've
 
 14 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 stretched a point before this for me. May I ex- 
 amine the body, if I disarrange nothing?" 
 
 "Why, yes, I think so, Mr. Gaunt. The body 
 is still here in the chair. Nothing has been dis- 
 turbed except by the physician's cursory examina- 
 tion nothing more was necessary. The man's been 
 dead for hours, shot through the heart.'* 
 
 "Oh, I knew the body was still here." Gaunt 
 smiled. "There is a certain slight, but unmistak- 
 able, odor about death, even when so short a time 
 has elapsed after it has taken place, which is plainly 
 evident to a nose trained for it." 
 
 "To your nose, you mean," returned the Coroner, 
 as the two men moved toward the grim chair with 
 its silent occupant. 
 
 Now a new sound broke upon the significant 
 stillness. It was a woman's heart-rending sob, 
 long drawn out, as if pent up beyond the limit of 
 human endurance, and rising in the crescendo of 
 ungovernable hysteria. 
 
 "Oh-h-!" the moan ended in a shriek of despair. 
 "This is horrible I cannot bear it another moment! 
 I shall go mad mad!" 
 
 "Natalie!" the calm, cutting voice of the elder 
 Mrs. Appleton fell like a dash of icy water on the 
 agonized wail. "If you have no respect for the 
 living, at least try to show some for the dead. This 
 is no fitting time and place to indulge your undis- 
 ciplined, selfish emotions." 
 
 "Oh, hush, dearest please, please hush!" It
 
 THE PASSING OF GARRET APPLETON 15 
 
 was a third woman's voice, low, slightly husky, 
 vibrant with the deepest tenderness and a con- 
 trolled passion. If the voice of the elder Mrs. 
 Appleton had impressed Gaunt as being the most 
 rigidly unfeeling he had ever heard, that of the last 
 speaker was the most eloquent of the music of the 
 soul. He had never in all his career heard a human 
 voice with so subtle and poignant an appeal. Here 
 was a woman who would be true and loyal to the 
 core, and who had a capacity for loving, if her 
 low, throbbing tones did not belie her, to the utter- 
 most abnegation of self. He had no difficulty 
 in his own mind in placing the two voices. The 
 one, raised high and shrill in an abandonment of 
 hysterical despair, had yet in its cadence the drawl- 
 ing sweetness of the lower, more vibrant tones. 
 They were the sisters, the two with whom the 
 elder Mrs. Appleton and her living son did not " get 
 on"; the one trembling in hysteria was the widow of 
 the murdered man, and the other was the sister-in- 
 law, whom Yates Appleton had called Barbara. 
 
 There was a sudden whirl, a soft rustle, and some- 
 thing hurled itself violently between Gaunt and the 
 Coroner, laying a small icy hand on each, implor- 
 ingly. 
 
 "Oh, you will let me go to my room?" the hys- 
 terical voice sobbed, plaintively. " I can't stand 
 any more indeed, indeed, I cannot! How can I 
 be expected to endure it here another moment, 
 with his eyes staring at me so horribly?"
 
 16 AT ONE-THIKTY 
 
 "It will be best for her to go, if you please," 
 put in the low, vibrant tones. "There are reasons 
 why my sister's strength must not be over- 
 taxed any more than necessary, just now. I will 
 answer for her presence when you wish to question 
 her." 
 
 "And I desire my daughter-in-law to remain. 
 Her proper place is beside the body of her hus- 
 band. You are beginning early, Miss Ellerslie, 
 to issue orders in my son's house!" The voice of 
 the elder Mrs. Appleton did not tremble, but it 
 vibrated harshly with her unconcealable animosity, 
 like jangling wires. 
 
 "This is my sister's house now, Mrs. Appleton." 
 The low, soft tones, with the little drawl, were 
 courteous; but there was now an undertone of the 
 passion of which Gaunt had felt the possibility, 
 although it was under admirable control. "My 
 sister has been tortured enough. Have we your 
 permission to retire, Coroner Hildebrand?" 
 
 "Yes, Miss Ellerslie, I wish you would all do so, 
 please you, Mrs. Appleton and Mr. Appleton, 
 also. I wish to make a thorough examination of 
 this room, with Mr. Gaunt and the Inspector. 
 We will interview you later." 
 
 Mrs. Finlay Appleton opened her lips to protest; 
 but, realizing that she was endangering her dignity 
 by a further exhibition of ill-nature, she led the 
 way haughtily from the room, her son following 
 with evident relief in her wake, and the group of
 
 THE PASSING OP GARRET APPLETON 17 
 
 open-mouthed servants clustered at the door dis- 
 appearing like chaff in her path. 
 
 The four men were alone; the quiet, spare figure 
 of Gaunt, the Coroner, and a burly Inspector, 
 and stolid-looking officer, who had stood silently 
 at one side during the preceding scene. 
 
 "Who is it Inspector Hanrahan?" asked Gaunt, 
 with a swift smile. 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Gaunt. How are you, sir?" 
 
 "I thought I recognized the brand of your tobacco 
 and isn't Officer Dooley here? I know that asth- 
 matic breathing of his." 
 
 Officer Dooley grinned and shifted from one 
 foot to another like a bashful boy. 
 
 "If you don't train down, Dooley, you will be 
 too fat for the force, before you know it. Now 
 for business, Coroner. Any possible idea at what 
 time Mr. Garret Appleton met his death?" 
 
 "No, Mr. Gaunt. I should say, in the neighbor- 
 hood of one o'clock, but of course we can't be 
 absolutely certain." 
 
 Gaunt had approached the body, and was pas- 
 sing his fingers lightly and thoroughly over it. 
 
 "No doubt about robbery being the motive?" 
 he asked, as he worked. 
 
 "Oh, no," the Inspector put in, easily. "No 
 weapon found, window open, tracks before window 
 in the carpet and on the curtains, and Mr. Apple- 
 ton's jewelry and money gone." 
 
 "I understand." Gaunt bent and sniffed the
 
 18 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 powder-blackened shirt about the wound. "Looks 
 
 as if Mr. Appleton might have recognized, or 
 
 thought he recognized, the thief, doesn't it, when 
 
 he let him get as near as he did to shoot him, 
 
 I without attempting to get on his feet, or make 
 
 i any outcry?" 
 
 "Maybe he did jump to his feet, and fell back 
 again when he was shot?'* suggested the Inspector, 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 "Hardly, seeing the way he was clutching the 
 arms of the chair. Even death didn't release 
 that vise-like grip. He might have clutched his 
 breast when the shot tore its way through him, 
 if he had had time. No, it looks as if he's been 
 sitting there a long time, grasping the arms of 
 his chair, and the end found him without the 
 movement of a muscle. Then there's another 
 thing." 
 
 Gaunt was talking very fast now, but his fingers 
 were working faster, darting with lightning-like 
 rapidity over the dead man's clothing. 
 
 "Whoever robbed him, made a pretty thorough 
 job of it. They evidently weren't afraid of being 
 disturbed at their work, and that seems strange, 
 when a revolver presumably lay smoking on the 
 table and the reverberations of its explosion must 
 still be echoing through the sleeping house. They 
 didn't tear out the vest- or cuff-buttons, or the 
 shirt-studs, but removed them carefully, although 
 with bungling fingers, as you can feel, here, and
 
 THE PASSING OF GARRET APPLETON 19 
 
 here. And wait! That's a curious thing about 
 the inside of the vest-pocket." 
 
 "What is?" asked Coroner Hildebrand. 
 
 "Never mind, I'll look into that later. Got a 
 list of the missing jewelry, money, watch, and all 
 that?" 
 
 "Inspector Hanrahan has, of course. He 
 
 "Well, I don't want it now. This the window 
 which was found open after the bird had flown?" 
 
 Gaunt felt his way over to the window, felt the 
 sill and the fastenings, and the velvet and lace 
 hangings, and the rich pile of the carpet at his 
 feet. When he encountered there some sticky, 
 congealed wet places, he knealt and smelt them, 
 kneading his hands in the damp velvet. 
 
 When he rose and turned, his usually impassive 
 face was alive with interest a very different 
 interest from that which had glowed upon it when 
 he stood in his library window in the early morn- 
 ing. Now, it was keener, more poignant, and 
 there was nothing in it of pleasurable sensation 
 rather, a sharp mental interest. He came slowly 
 back to that figure in the chair, wiping his hands 
 carefully on his handkerchief as he did so, while 
 the other men watched him in a sort of fascination, 
 as silent as it was intent. 
 
 Then he took the cold head in his hands, feeling 
 its shape with the trained, sure delicacy of a sur- 
 geon, a phrenologist. His deft fingers passed 
 downward more softly, more gently over the dead
 
 20 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 features, tracing each strained muscle each curve 
 and angle, seeing, with his ten marvelous eyes of 
 the fifth sense, the expression on the face of the 
 murdered man. 
 
 At length, he turned to where the others stood. 
 
 "Well?" the Inspector's voice grated with sus- 
 pense in the silence. "Found out anything, Mr. 
 Gaunt?" 
 
 "A little, though I haven't begun to examine 
 the room thoroughly yet. There are a lot of queer 
 features about this case, which you mayn't have 
 found time to go into. In the first place, those 
 tracks over there at the window were not made 
 by muddy feet, but bloody hands." 
 
 "Of course," the Coroner returned, impatiently, 
 "we know that. Those traces were left by the 
 murderer, going out." 
 
 "How about coming in? He didn't leave any 
 traces then, although it rained hard last night, 
 and there's soft loam and top soil in the garden 
 beneath this window. I can smell the late autumn 
 flowers. Again, the window was opened from the 
 inside, not out, and the person who opened it was 
 afraid, not of taking his time about it, but of making 
 a noise; for he opened the catch of the window in 
 the proper way, and then painstakingly bent and 
 twisted it with some blunt instrument to give it the 
 appearance of having been forced, though, had he 
 dared make any noise, he could have shattered it 
 with a single blow. And moreover, gentlemen,
 
 THE PASSING OF GARRET APPLETON 21 
 
 that blood about the window was not fresh blood, 
 wiped from the murderer's red hands in making 
 good his escape. It was stale, congealed blood 
 when it was applied to the carpet and curtains. 
 When the window was forced and the semblance 
 of robbery and escape given to the scene of murder 
 in this room, Garret Appleton had already been 
 dead for some hours."
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE INSTRUMENT OF DEATH 
 
 THE men looked at one another. 
 "How do you know that about the 
 blood, I mean?" demanded the Inspector, 
 bluntly. "How can you tell?" 
 
 "Feel it, man, feel it!" returned Gaunt. "It's 
 dried in thick, raised, sticky clots. And, unless 
 I'm mistaken, it wasn't brushed there by the hand 
 of the murderer, but was deliberately wiped there, 
 placed there hours after the murder." 
 
 The Coroner strode to the window. 
 
 "Mr. Gaunt is right," he cried. "Come here, 
 Inspector! It looks like a deliberate and very 
 clumsy attempt to brand the crime as an outside 
 job. It must have been for robbery, of course; 
 one of the servants, probably. But why the 
 fellow should have waited for hours before prepar- 
 ing his alibi, running the risk of some one discover- 
 ing the crime in the meantime, is beyond me. Also, 
 what has become of the jewels and the weapon 
 but they'll come to light, of course." 
 
 "I'll have the house searched at once, and the 
 servants questioned; put through the third degree, 
 if necessary!" Inspector Hanrahan replied, ex- 
 citedly. 
 
 22
 
 THE INSTRUMENT OF DEATH 23 
 
 Gaunt had been stooping, feeling about on the 
 floor before the chair in which the dead man sat, 
 and, at the Inspector's words, he rose, his long 
 fingers slipping for an instant into his waistcoat- 
 pocket. He had discovered upon the floor before 
 the chair three tiny hard globules, like irregular 
 pearls. 
 
 "I wouldn't do that, Inspector," he suggested, 
 mildly. "At least, searching the house won't do 
 any harm; but don't question the servants in such 
 a manner that you'll lead any of them to suspect 
 that you don't think this was an outside job. If 
 you do, you may defeat your own ends." He 
 turned to the Coroner. "You'll have an autopsy 
 performed immediately, I suppose? I'd like to 
 know at once, if you'll tell me, what caliber and 
 make cartridge was used." 
 
 "I'll let you know gladly. You'll be here all 
 day?" 
 
 "Yes. I want to make a more thorough exam- 
 ination of the room now, and then I should like to 
 speak to some members of the family. That rob- 
 bery theory still looks good, of course, Coroner 
 Hildebrand, if it weren't for one thing." 
 
 "What's that?" the Inspector turned sharply 
 from the window. 
 
 "The dead man's face. Look at his expression. 
 Blank horror and craven fear are stamped upon 
 it!" 
 
 "Look here, Mr. Gaunt, I don't see what you can
 
 24 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 tell about his expression!" Inspector Hanrahan's 
 voice held a good-natured, easy contempt. 
 
 "By feeling the drawn, contracted muscles," 
 Gaunt said, tersely. He resented bitterly any 
 reference to the handicap nature had placed upon 
 him, yet he realized the justice of the implica- 
 tion. 
 
 "It may be only the death-agony, the shock, 
 you know, which has distorted his face," the Cor- 
 oner broke in hastily, soothingly. 
 
 "Look at him yourself, Coroner Hildebrand. 
 Does he look like a man suddenly attacked without 
 warning, or like one who recognized his assailant, 
 and read his approaching fate in the other's eyes, 
 but felt powerless to avert it?" 
 
 The Coroner was silent, and, with a slight shrug, 
 Gaunt turned away, and bent over the writing- 
 table, his hands playing lightly among the papers 
 and ornaments it contained. From there, he made 
 a circuit of the room, passing swiftly from one 
 article of furniture to another, more as if to orient 
 himself than with any idea of a thorough examina- 
 tion. 
 
 Suddenly he paused before a low, swinging lamp 
 of ancient brass, and felt carefully of its jangling 
 pendant ornaments. From one of these, a tiny 
 strand of hair hung, as if caught from the un- 
 wary head of some feminine Absalom, in passing 
 beneath it. It was a long strand of but two or 
 three fine, silky hairs, and the detective wound
 
 THE INSTRUMENT OF DEATH 25 
 
 them carefully around his finger, then placed 
 them in the vest-pocket with the tiny white 
 globules. 
 
 Meanwhile, the other men went about their 
 gruesome task of removing the body to an adjoin- 
 ing room for the autopsy, and Gaunt heard their 
 heavy, subdued tread down the hall. With silent 
 haste, he approached the door and closed it softly, 
 then returned to the library-table in the center of 
 the room, beside which the body of the murdered 
 man had been seated, and opened drawer after 
 drawer, his hands searching feverishly among the 
 papers they contained, as if seeking some object 
 he fully anticipated finding. If Garret Appleton 
 really had known his assailant, and might act- 
 ually have feared for his life, it was logical to sup- 
 pose that he might have kept some weapon with 
 which to protect and, if necessary, defend himself. 
 If that weapon should happen to be a revolver, 
 of the same caliber as that with which he had 
 been shot 
 
 The detective's fingers closed over a cold steel 
 object in the lowest drawer, and with an exultant 
 exclamation he drew it forth. It was a revolver. 
 He placed it hastily to his nose, and sniffed it, then, 
 with a satisfied air, he thrust it into his hip-pocket, 
 and, when the Inspector reappeared, he was fingering 
 .knd smelling the hangings and pillows of the large, 
 richly-upholstered divan, about which a peculiar 
 heavy perfume seemed to cling.
 
 26 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 "Well, I've finished here," he announced. "I'd 
 like to see my client now." 
 
 "Found anything more?" the Inspector asked, 
 with a grin. 
 
 "No, nothing. Guess your robbery theory goes. 
 Interviewed any of the servants yet?" 
 
 "Yes; and, between you and me, Mr. Gaunt, I 
 think I'm on the right trail. From all accounts, 
 Mr. Garret Appleton wasn't a very pleasant cus- 
 tomer. Dissipated, he was, and overbearing, and 
 a bully. He led his wife and everyone else pretty 
 much of a dog's life, and about a month ago he 
 drove his valet, Louis, out of the house, and the 
 man was heard to vow that he'd get even. This 
 Louis was a Frenchman, a hot-headed man him- 
 self, and he was very friendly with one of the 
 maids. She might have let him in last night, 
 and he, only meaning to rob the master, might 
 have murdered him without premeditation. Of 
 course, this morning, seeing what he'd done, 
 the maid would be afraid to admit he was here. 
 Anyway, that's my theory. Where are you go- 
 
 ing?" 
 
 "To interview Mrs. Appleton." 
 
 Gaunt found the object of his search ensconced 
 in her morning-room, and, if the reaction of her 
 hour of silence and composure after the shock of 
 the discovery of her son's body, and the ensuing 
 scene in the den, had unnerved her, had brought 
 with it any flood of tenderness and natural grief,
 
 THE INSTRUMENT OF DEATH 27 
 
 there was no evidence of it in her voice or manner, 
 or the steadiness of her hand. 
 
 "You have discovered anything, Mr. Gaunt 
 any clue to the thief who killed my son ? " 
 
 "Only that he was a most uncommon thief, Mrs. 
 Appleton that the manner of your son's death 
 presents some very unusual features. As I have 
 already informed Mr. Yates Appleton, in under- 
 taking your investigation for you, I must make 
 one condition " 
 
 "Your fee " the elderly lady interrupted him, 
 coldly. 
 
 "My fee has nothing whatever to do with it. 
 That can be arranged later. My condition is that 
 of absolute confidence. My questions must be 
 freely and fully answered, with no quibbling, no 
 half-truths. If I ask you to go into family his- 
 tory, your common sense will tell you that it is 
 through no idle curiosity, but a necessary measure, 
 if I am to help you. I need not tell you that any 
 communications will be strictly confidential." 
 
 "I am quite prepared to answer any questions 
 you may ask, Mr. Gaunt; although I cannot see 
 what bearing family history, as you call it, may 
 have upon a case of robbery and murder so obviously 
 perpetrated by a common thief." Mrs. Appleton's 
 voice was steady and frigid; but there was an under- 
 lying note of uneasiness not lost upon the quick 
 ears of the detective. 
 
 "You must allow me to be the best judge of that,"
 
 26 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 he returned quietly. " Mrs. Appleton, how long 
 has your son been married?" 
 
 "Three years." 
 
 "And his wife, before her marriage, was 
 
 "A Miss Ellerslie Miss Natalie Ellerslie." 
 
 "Of New York?" 
 
 "No, of the South; from Louisville, Kentucky/" 
 
 "And, since his marriage, he and his wife have 
 lived here?" 
 
 "Yes, in this house. My husband built and 
 gave it to them for a wedding-gift." 
 
 "Mrs. Appleton, in your opinion, was your son's 
 married life happy?" 
 
 "Quite the reverse. Understand, I am not defend- 
 ing my son. He has not been a model husband 
 by any means; but the blame for that lies with 
 his wife alone. You know, you must have heard, 
 what these spoiled penniless Southern beauties are. 
 Had my son married a woman of the world, a 
 woman of his own set, I may say his own station, 
 she would have known how to make him happy, 
 to hold his interest. But I fail to see what all 
 this has to do with his murder." 
 
 "She is beautiful, then, young Mrs. Apple- 
 ton?" Gaunt asked quietly, ignoring her last re- 
 mark. 
 
 "She is considered so." The older woman's 
 tone was bitter. A certain blond, doll-like type 
 of prettiness." 
 
 "And you disapproved of this marriage?"
 
 THE INSTRUMENT OF DEATH 29 
 
 "Most heartily, I recognized its unsuitability 
 from the first. And you see how it has ended!" 
 
 "But, surely, my dear Mrs. Appleton, you do 
 not consider the fact of your son's marriage to be 
 in any way connected with his death ? " 
 
 There was a pause, and the detective could hear 
 her rapid breathing, her effort to regain her iron 
 control of herself. At length she spoke: 
 
 "I do not, Mr. Gaunt. I have been unable, since 
 you started this line of inquiry, to connect it with 
 the matter in hand." 
 
 "I am simply trying in my own mind to com- 
 prehend the relations the members of your son's 
 household bear to one another. He and his wife 
 were unhappy. Was that due in part, do you 
 think, to the presence of your daughter-in-law's 
 sister?" 
 
 "In great part. I see that you fully understood 
 the significance of the scene in the den, beside 
 my son's body this morning. Barbara Ellerslie is 
 an interloper. She made her home here in my 
 son's house, at her sister's invitation, and she has 
 been the cause of many unpleasant, disgraceful 
 domestic scenes, humoring Natalie, aiding and , 
 abetting her in her senseless quarrels and accusa- 
 tions against Garret, and constantly stirring up 
 strife between them. My son could not oust her; 
 for Natalie would not give her up. Naturally, 
 Barbara made herself indispensable to her sister, 
 in order to enjoy the advantages, social and other-
 
 30 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 wise, of living here, instead of in the dull, shabby- 
 genteel surroundings of her Southern home." 
 
 "Miss Ellerslie spoke just a little while ago of 
 there being a reason why young Mrs. Appleton's 
 strength should not be overtaxed just now. Am I 
 to infer that 
 
 "Natalie will in a few months become a mother." 
 
 A silence followed the terse statement, a silence 
 in which the concentrated bitterness, and thwarted 
 impotent hatred, expressed unconsciously in the 
 tone of the few words, sank deep into the detective's 
 mind. It told him volumes, which before he had 
 only suspected, and cleared the way before him. 
 
 "Mrs. Appleton, your younger son's name has 
 been in the papers lately, in connection with some 
 effort to break a will. I can, of course, learn all 
 about it in detail by having my secretary look 
 over my newspaper files, but I prefer to hear about 
 it from you. Will you give me the particulars?" 
 
 There was a stiff, silken rustle, as the lady moved 
 restlessly, uneasily, in her chair, and then a new 
 sound smote upon the detective's ears; a sharp, 
 staccato tattoo. Mrs. Appleton was nervously tap- 
 ping the broad mahogany arms of her chair, with 
 the rounded tips of her finger nails. At last, she 
 spoke quickly, imperiously; but the pause after his 
 question had been so lengthy as to rob her words 
 of their desired significance, and betray her real 
 state of mind her reluctance to discuss the new 
 topic he had introduced.
 
 THE INSTRUMENT OF DEATH 31 
 
 "Mr. Gaunt, my son's murderer may be making 
 good his escape, may be getting forever beyond 
 our reach, while you are wasting time by delving 
 into wholly extraneous matters. The matter of 
 my late husband's will can have no possible con- 
 nection with my son's murder." The cold, for- \ 
 bidding voice trembled at the end with suppressed 
 anger and latent agitation. 
 
 Gaunt shrugged. 
 
 "Then, you will not tell me?" he insisted. "You 
 will permit me to use your telephone? I must get 
 my secretary on the wire." 
 
 There was an exclamation of annoyance from 
 Mrs. Appleton, and the nervous tapping on the 
 chair-arms quickened for a moment, then ceased 
 abruptly, as, after a moment's pause, she spoke: 
 
 "Of course, if you insist, Mr. Gaunt, I will tell 
 you. It is nothing but what all the world knows, 
 and it is a maddening waste of time; but I presume 
 you must pursue your own method. My husband 
 was an old-fashioned man, and the mode of life 
 adopted by our two sons angered him to the ex- 
 treme. I disapprove most strongly, of course, off 
 the looseness of the lives of young men nowadays; 
 but I knew that my sons were merely wild, not * 
 evil, and would in time marry suitably and settle 
 down. My husband took an opposite view, and 
 vowed he would leave his fortune in trust for them, 
 that they might never have an opportunity to 
 squander the principal. When, however, my eldest
 
 32 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 son, Garret, became infatuated with Natalie Ellerslie, 
 and married her, my husband took an absurd fancy 
 to her, and felt that Garret's future was safe in 
 her hands; that she would, as he expressed, 'make 
 a man of him/ 
 
 "My own fortune was assured by an ante-nuptial 
 agreement, and my husband left a miserable pit- 
 tance considering his great wealth to Yates, and 
 that in trust for him for life, with the Mammoth 
 Trust Company, that he might never touch any 
 part of it but the interest. The rest of his estate 
 my husband divided into halves, giving one share 
 to Garret ourtight, the other portion co be held 
 in trust by the Mammoth Company, together 
 with its accruing interest for ten years. If, at the 
 end of that period, Natalie had borne no child, that 
 portion was to be divided, and one-half of it given 
 outright to each of the brothers. If, on the other 
 hand, Natalie had given birth to a child, or children, 
 the Mammoth Company was to hold that part 
 of the estate, not its interest, until the children were 
 twenty-one, and then divide it among them. Do I 
 make myself clear?" 
 
 "Perfectly." 
 
 "It was a most unfair arrangement, as you can 
 see, and naturally Yates resented it. A few months 
 ago, when it became an assured fact that there was 
 to be a child, Yates brought suit an entirely 
 friendly suit, I assure you, Mr. Gaunt jointly 
 against his brother and the Trust Company, to
 
 THE INSTRUMENT OF DEATH 33 
 
 obtain his rightful share of the property and full 
 control of it. It was merely to test the validity 
 of the will, of course, and Yates lost. That is 
 absolutely all there is in the story." 
 
 "The suit was entirely friendly? There had been 
 no serious quarrels preceding it?" 
 
 "Oh, little discussions, of course; but only such 
 as occur in all families over money matters. The 
 suit was brought as a perfectly amicable arrange- 
 ment of them. You can understand that we 
 Yates and I would not be living here under my 
 eldest son's roof had it been otherwise." 
 
 " Ah! Then, you sided with. your youngest son 
 in iihe matter, Mrs. Appleton?" 
 
 There was a rustle as the lady gave a start of 
 annoyance at her involuntary slip, and the rapid 
 rat-tat of the finger-tips upon the polished wood 
 was resumed. 
 
 " I sided with neither there was no need. I 
 have told you repeatedly that it was a perfectly 
 amicable family arrangement." 
 
 " Has this sudden tragedy affected your plans 
 for the immediate future, Mrs. Appleton?" 
 
 Again the tapping ceased. 
 
 "Naturally, in the face of the attitude adopted 
 by my daughter-in-law and her sister, my son and 
 I will not remain another night under this roof. 
 This afternoon, I shall go to the Blenheim Hotel, 
 to remain there until my own house is ready to 
 receive me. An hour ago, my son made arrange-
 
 34 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 ments, by means of the telephone, to take over 
 the bachelor apartments of a friend, in the Cal- 
 thorp." 
 
 "Ah! Mrs. Appleton, you approve of this move 
 of your son's?" 
 
 "I? Approve?" the lady's voice was almost 
 shrill in her astonishment at the sudden question; 
 but her fingers unconsciously began for the third 
 time their agitated betrayal upon the sounding- 
 boards of the chair-arms. "I cannot understand 
 your question, Mr. Gaunt. My son is no longer 
 a child. His personal plans are his own. Whether 
 he chooses to go to the Calthorp, or elsewhere, 
 is of small moment to me." 
 
 "Then, it is because of another reason that your 
 son is the cause of some particular anxiety to you, 
 just now?" 
 
 "Mr. Gaunt, your line of questioning is not only 
 senselessly irrelevent, it is impertinent!" Her in- 
 dignation was growing beyond the bounds of hep 
 studied self-control. 
 
 But the detective returned, imperturbably. 
 
 "Every time, during our present interview, Mrs. 
 Appleton, when my 'line of questioning/ as you 
 term it, has led toward your youngest son, you 
 have unmistakably betrayed your agitation." 
 
 "My agitation? Would I, would any mother, 
 not be agitated at such a time as this, when her 
 eldest son lies dead, foully murdered, almost at 
 her feet? But you are laboring under a strange
 
 THE INSTRUMENT OF DEATH 35 
 
 delusion, if you imagine that I am especially 
 perturbed at the mention of my youngest son. 
 Why should such a thought have entered your 
 mind?" 
 
 For answer, he tapped lightly, but with sharp 
 insistence, on the arms of his own chair, and, after 
 an instant, she comprehended. 
 
 "How absurd!" she ejaculated, with a con- 
 temptuous shrug of her shoulders; but there was 
 a little running note of apprehension in her voice. 
 ' You are super-analytical, Mr. Gaunt. Are there 
 any further questions you desired to ask me? I 
 need scarcely remind you again that time presses." 
 
 If he could only have seen her knuckles whiten,, 
 as she clasped her hands in her lap, so convulsively 
 that the heavy rings cut cruelly into her wrinkled 
 fingers, he might perhaps have pressed the matter 
 in spite of her evident displeasure, but instead,, 
 he branched off upon a new subject of inquiry. 
 
 "Mrs. Appleton, was your eldest son ever, to 
 your knowledge, in fear of his life? Had he any 
 active enemy?" 
 
 Mrs. Appleton opened her lips for an indignant 
 denial, when there came an unexpected interrupt 
 tion. There was a sudden commotion in the hall, 
 the door was flung open, and a girl's voice was 
 heard in a shrill cry of horror. ' The next moment, 
 someone entered precipitately, with a swirl of 
 silken skirts, and flung herself upon the elder- 
 woman.
 
 36 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 At the same instant, a whiff of cloying Oriental 
 perfume, like incense, was wafted to the sensitive 
 nostrils of Gaunt. 
 
 "What is this we have heard?" the same sharp 
 young voice cried out. ''Mrs. Appleton, what 
 is it that has happened? We have heard horrible 
 rumors they cannot be true! Is Garret 
 
 "My dear child! My dear Doris!" the voice 
 held more a warning than an appeal for sympathy. 
 "Garret is dead! He was found, shot, in his den 
 this morning! I know how badly you feel for us 
 all, but you must calm yourself. You see how I 
 am bearing up under the blow. This is no time 
 for breaking down." The cautious note seemed 
 suddenly to deepen in significance. "I am talk- 
 ing to Mr. Gaunt, whom I have retained to investi- 
 gate this terrible affair for us. Mr. Gaunt, this 
 young lady is the daughter of an old family friend, 
 Judge Carhart." 
 
 "Garret dead!" The girl's voice trembled. "I 
 cannot believe it! I cannot realize it! Dead! 
 And only last night " The voice ceased, with 
 a little, quick catch of the breath. Had she paused 
 because of the fear that she would break down 
 under the stress of shock and sympathetic emo- 
 tion, or because of a warning gesture, a pressure 
 of the arm, perhaps, from Mrs. Appleton ? 
 
 "Judge Carhart and his daughter dined with us 
 last evening," the elder woman's smooth, hard 
 voice explained carefully. "Garret was well and
 
 THE INSTRUMENT OF DEATH 37 
 
 in the best of spirits. It is difficult for the young 
 to realize 
 
 "My dear Catherine! My poor old friend!" 
 a rich, full-toned fatherly voice sounded from the 
 doorway. "We have come, Doris and I, to utter 
 what consolation we may, and give you and yours 
 what aid lies in our power! " 
 
 "Ah, Judge Carhart, I am so very glad to see 
 you!" Mrs. Appleton's tones for the first time 
 rang with a warm human note. "Come in, please, 
 This is Mr. Gaunt, of whom you have doubtless 
 heard. I called him in at once." 
 
 "Mr. Gaunt!" The detective's hand was grasped 
 cordially. "My old friend is fortunate to have 
 obtained your services. Your work, sir, in the Mar- 
 bridge case, and the Delamater murders, came under 
 my judicial notice, and commanded my admira- 
 tion. But you were in consultation with Mrs. 
 Appleton. My daughter and I will withdraw." 
 
 "By no means, Judge Carhart. My interview 
 was almost at an end, and I should like to put a 
 question or so to you, if I may. I understand 
 you and Miss Carhart dined here last evening." 
 
 "We did, sir." 
 
 "There were other guests?" 
 
 "No." It was Mrs. Appleton who replied. 
 "Only our family, the Judge, and his daughter." 
 
 "Did you notice anything unusual in Mr. Apple- 
 ton's Mr. Garret Appleton's appearance, or man- 
 ner, during the evening, Judge Carhart?"
 
 38 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 "No, nothing whatever," the Judge's tone held 
 a hint of astonishment at the question. "Did 
 you, Doris?" 
 
 The girl caught her breath suddenly, with a 
 little hiss, then replied in a low, studiously con- 
 trolled tone. 
 
 "No, daddy, of course not. Why should there 
 have been?" 
 
 "Mr. Gaunt, Coroner Hildebrand would like to 
 speak to you." It was Yates Appleton's voice, 
 breaking in upon them. 
 
 "Ask him to come in here and you, too, Mr. 
 Appleton." Gaunt leaned forward in his chair. 
 
 Young Mr. Appleton entered, followed by the 
 Coroner, who remained standing just within the 
 door, eying the detective somewhat doubtfully. 
 
 "Coroner, the autopsy has been performed?" 
 Gaunt asked, sharply. "You have abstracted the 
 bullet? I should like to know at once in the 
 presence of Judge Carhart and these members of 
 the family." 
 
 "It was fired from a thirty-two-caliber revolver, 
 Mr. Gaunt." 
 
 "A thirty-two a thirty-two!" the detective re- 
 peated, thoughtfully. Then, he wheeled suddenly 
 toward where the younger son was standing. 
 
 "Mr. Appleton, did your brother possess a re- 
 volver?" 
 
 "Certainly not!" the mother cut in harshly, be- 
 fore her son could answer. "What could lead you
 
 THE INSTEUMENT OP DEATH 39 
 
 to suppose that Garret should have such a thing 
 in his possession?" 
 
 "Did he?" Gaunt persisted quietly, of the young 
 man. "It is not uncommon, you know, for gentle- 
 men to keep such a weapon in their homes, to guard 
 against burglars and the like. Have you ever seen 
 a revolver in your brother's hands?" 
 
 "I I believe he did have one somewhere, now 
 that I think of it," Yates Appleton admitted, 
 sullenly. There was a quick sharp exclamation 
 from his mother; but no one, save perhaps the 
 detective, noted it. 
 
 "Was it of thirty-two caliber?" 
 
 "I don't know. I I never noticed it partic- 
 ularly." 
 
 "Did your brother ever fire it?" 
 
 "Not that I know of." 
 
 "Did anyone else ever handle it?" 
 
 "I never saw anybody. My brother had it a 
 long time. I don't know why he got it probably 
 for protection against burglars, as you say. I 
 don't even know that it was ever loaded." 
 
 "Where did he keep it?" 
 
 "I haven't the least idea. It's months since I 
 saw it." 
 
 "Where did you see it last?" 
 
 The questions were pelted pitilessly at him, and 
 he was visibly writhing about under them. At the 
 last one, he blurted out desperately: 
 
 "In the the den."
 
 40 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 "Will you go, please, and bring it here?" 
 
 "I don't know where it is, I tell you!" he almost 
 shouted, the perspiration standing out in great 
 beads on his forehead. 
 
 "Will you go to the den, and look for it?" Then, 
 as the young man seemed to hesitate, he added: 
 "Mr. Appleton's body has been removed." 
 
 With a sudden movement, Yates Appleton turned 
 and bolted from the room, and those within it sat 
 in a tense silence, waiting. 
 
 Finally, there was an exclamation, almost a shout, 
 from down the hall, and the young man rushed in. 
 
 "It's gone!" he cried. "Someone's taken it! 
 It's gone from the drawer, where he always kept 
 it!" 
 
 Damon Gaunt reached in his hip-pocket, and 
 drew forth something, which he held out. 
 
 "Is this it?" he asked, quietly. 
 
 Yates Appleton snatched it from his hands. 
 
 "Let me see!" he bent, trembling, over it. Then, 
 he turned roughly upon the detective. "Yes, by 
 gad, it is! And you're a fool if you think it had 
 anything to do with the murder! It's fully loaded! 
 Here! You can see for yourself!" He thrust it 
 into the Coroner's hands. 
 
 "Yes, it's fully loaded," Grant conceded, steadily. 
 "But it has been lately fired, and reloaded 
 within a few hours, perhaps. An attempt has 
 been made to clean it, but not thoroughly. It 
 still reeks of powder."
 
 THE INSTRUMENT OF DEATH 41 
 
 " Where did you get it?" Yates Appleton de- 
 manded, furiously. 
 
 "In the drawer in the library table, where you 
 say your brother always kept it; in the drawer 
 where it was placed in the early hours of this morn- 
 ing, by the hand which reloaded and cleaned it 
 the same hand which pried open the catch of the 
 window from the inside, and smeared the curtains 
 with the blood of a man long dead. The weapon 
 which was the instrument of death was Garret 
 Appleton's own revolver!"
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 LIES 
 
 THERE was a moment of electrified silence, 
 and then Mrs. Finlay Appleton arose majes- 
 tically to her feet. 
 
 "Mr. Gaunt, do you mean to imply that my son 
 committed suicide, and that someone else, coming 
 upon his body hours afterward, attempted to con- 
 ceal the evidence of his act, and to create a false 
 impression of theft and murder? You go too far, 
 sir! Such a deduction is that of a mind, to say the 
 least, gone astray!" 
 
 "I imply nothing of the sort, Mrs. Appleton. I 
 assert that your son was killed by some person, 
 at present unknown, who did not enter by way of 
 the window; and that the murderer, or someone 
 else, coming by chance upon the body, sought to 
 convey a false impression of the manner of your 
 son's death. That is the case as it stands 
 now." 
 
 "I cannot believe it! It is preposterous un- 
 thinkable! Why should anyone do such a thing? 
 What motive could there be? No one in my house- 
 hold could be capable of it! I trust my servants 
 implicitly!" The dominant woman had forgotten 
 
 42
 
 LIES 43 
 
 for the moment that it was of her daughter-in- 
 law's house she spoke, her daughter-in-law's ser- 
 vants. 
 
 "Good God!" Yates Appleton ejaculated in a 
 low tone. He was wiping his forehead, and star- 
 ing at the detective with something akin to horror 
 in his eyes. 
 
 "Mr. Appleton," Gaunt turned to him, "your 
 mother tells me that you and she are planning to 
 leave this house today; I should like a word in 
 private with you before you go." 
 
 "Y-yes, Mr. Gaunt. Perhaps you'll come to 
 my room? My man is packing there now; but 
 I'll dismiss him " 
 
 "I'll come presently, when I've had a word with 
 the Coroner." 
 
 The Judge had turned to Mrs. Appleton, and 
 was saying softly: 
 
 "You are leaving this house leaving Natalie 
 in her grief?" 
 
 "Her grief is not overwhelming, my dear friend. 
 There is no need of pretense to you. She's merely 
 hysterical now, and Barbara is taking care of her." 
 
 "But, Catherine, is it wise? Is it politic?" 
 
 "I don't know. I know the house is horrible to 
 me; that I could not spend another night in it!" 
 
 The Judge sighed. 
 
 "Could I speak to Natalie for a moment, do you 
 think?" 
 
 "I'll see." Mrs. Appleton swept from the room
 
 44 AT ONE-THIETY 
 
 as if glad to escape even momentarily from Gaunt's 
 presence, and the Judge turned to where his 
 daughter, with white, set face and staring eyes, 
 crouched in the window-seat. 
 
 Meanwhile, the Coroner said in a low, excited 
 tone: 
 
 "You're sure of what you said, Mr. Gaunt? 
 That was a pretty strong statement you made. 
 After all, you know, you've the merest circumstan- 
 tial evidence to go on." 
 
 "Good heavens, man! Don't the facts bear me 
 out so far? And I made that statement as openly 
 as I did, for a good and sufficient reason. Be sure 
 you keep that revolver from being handled too much. 
 You'll need the powder-traces on it as evidence, 
 later." 
 
 "Judge Carhart, if you will come with me 
 Mrs. Appleton's voice came from just behind them, 
 " Natalie would like to see you for a moment." 
 
 When the Judge had left the room, the Coroner, 
 too, departed, and Gaunt crossed to where the 
 slim, still figure was seated among the cushions. 
 
 "You you're blind aren't you, Mr. Gaunt?" 
 the girl asked curiously, but not unkindly. " How 
 did you know where I was sitting? " 
 
 "By your perfume, Miss Carhart," he replied, 
 with a smile. ' You know, we who are bereft of 
 one sense must train the others to act for us in 
 place of the one we have lost. That perfume is 
 very strange, unusual."
 
 LIES 45 
 
 "Yes. My father has it sent from India. He 
 used to get it for my mother. It has an unpro- 
 nounceable name, meaning 'The Rose in Death.' 
 She shivered a little at the last word, then went 
 on hurriedly: "It is supposed to be very, very 
 old. I believe it was first distilled for the queen 
 in whose memory the Taj-Mahal was built. . . . 
 But tell me, Mr. Gaunt, is it really true that Garret 
 that Mr. Appleton was murdered? Even after 
 hearing what you have all just said, I cannot be- 
 lieve it." 
 
 :< He is dead," Gaunt answered, gently. "By 
 whose hand we have yet to learn. Try to recall 
 everything that happened last evening, every little, 
 trivial incident, which may have slipped your 
 memory. There was nothing not a word or a 
 look from anyone out of the ordinary?" 
 
 "I can't think you frighten me so, Mr. Gaunt! 
 You make me feel as if you suspected every one of 
 us! Surely, it was a burglar, was it not? Mr. 
 Appleton's money and jewelry are also gone, they 
 say. Oh, what does it all mean? Who can have 
 done it?" 
 
 "Try to calm yourself, Miss Carhart, and collect 
 your thoughts, and tell me exactly what happened 
 last evening everything which you can remember." 
 
 "Why, we dined just a simple family dinner 
 you know, we're all awfully old friends Mrs. 
 Appleton, and my father, and Garret and his 
 wife, and Miss Ellerslie, and Yates, and I. And
 
 46 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 then, afterward let me see. Oh, yes, Miss Ellers- 
 lie went to a wedding with a party of friends, who 
 called for her ' 
 
 "A wedding?" 
 
 "Yes. An old friend from the South, I believe. 
 And Yates went out, too. Mrs. Appleton and 
 father played double-dummy bridge, and Garret 
 and his wife and I chatted for awhile. Then 
 Garret's wife said she wasn't feeling very well, 
 and excused herself and went up-stairs, and Garret 
 and I sat and talked until father and Mrs Apple- 
 ton finished their game, and we went home. That 
 is all." 
 
 "What time did you leave?" 
 
 "Oh, early between eleven and half-past, I 
 think." 
 
 "And on your arrival home?" 
 
 "Father went to his study for a last cigar, and 
 I went right up to bed, and read for an hour or 
 two before I fell asleep. We weren't going on 
 anywhere else. It's too early in the season for 
 dances and that sort of thing, you know." 
 
 "I understand. Miss Carhart," he bent for- 
 ward suddenly, as if to look into her face through 
 his sightless eyes, and shot the question at her, 
 "at what hour during the evening, and with whom, 
 were you in the den ? " 
 
 She shrank from him, her breath coming in 
 great gasps. 
 
 "The den?" she faltered, through dry lips.
 
 LIES 47 
 
 "The room in which Garret Appleton was after- 
 ward murdered/* he persisted, inexorably. 
 
 "The den!" she repeated. "Why, never not 
 once not for an instant! I swear it!" 
 
 The detective drew back. 
 
 "Oh!" he muttered. "You said that you and 
 young Mrs. Appleton and her husband sat chatting, 
 while your father and the elder Mrs. Appleton 
 played bridge. I thought perhaps you were in the 
 den." 
 
 Miss Carhart drew a deep breath. 
 
 "Oh, no!" she said, hastily. "We were in the 
 library." 
 
 He could feel her eyes upon him, deep and 
 bright with suspicion. 
 
 "You say that young Mrs. Appleton was not 
 well. Did she seem depressed, or unhappy?" 
 
 The sudden change of topic had the desired effect. 
 
 "How should I know?" the girl drew herself up 
 coldly. "I did not notice her particularly. She 
 seemed quite as usual." 
 
 "I thought perhaps you would have noticed. I 
 understood you were great friends." 
 
 "I meant that my father and I were great friends 
 of the Appleton family. I only know Garret's wife 
 and her sister casually, not intimately." 
 
 "Well, Miss Carhart, I must leave you. No 
 doubt Mrs. Appleton will return almost immediately 
 with your father, and I must interview the ser- 
 vants. Thank you for replying to my questions."
 
 48 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 He turned gropingly, with outstretched hands, 
 as if feeling for the door from which he had come 
 to her with such unerring precision, and his hand 
 came in contact with her head just where her hair 
 billowed out from under her hat. He withdrew 
 it at once, with a deprecatingly murmured apology, 
 and, with an odd lack of his usual accuracy, fumbled 
 for the door. On the sill, he paused, stopped, 
 and picked up a filmy square of lace, so tiny that 
 it had lain unnoticed in the general excitement 
 by those who had passed over it. He turned, and 
 walked straight back to where the girl sat watching 
 him, with curious, fascinated eyes. 
 
 "Your handkerchief, I believe?" he asked, smil- 
 ingly presenting it. "You must have dropped it 
 when you entered." 
 
 Miss Carhart took it from his hand, glanced at 
 it, and then swiftly back to his face, and her eyes 
 were dark with apprehension. 
 
 "Thank you, it is mine," she said quietly. "But 
 how did you know?" 
 
 "The perfume," he explained, with courteous, 
 but wearied, patience. "Wherever you are, where- 
 ; ever any personal article of yours lies, that individual, 
 penetrating scent of yours would lead unmistakably 
 to you. And then, too, if I am not mistaken, I 
 felt the monogram D. C. in a corner of the hand- 
 kerchief. Mrs. Appleton called you 'Doris.' It is 
 quite simple, you see. Good-morning, Miss Carhart." 
 
 As he made his way slowly along the unfamiliar
 
 UBS 49 
 
 hall, he pondered. She had been in the den some- 
 time the previous evening. The lingering, cloying 
 perfume was unmistakable. Why had she denied 
 it? 
 
 A man-servant passed through the hall, and, 
 seeing him, approached deferentially. 
 
 "Mr. Gaunt, sir? Were you going to Mr. Ap- 
 pleton's room? He expects you. I'm his man, 
 sir. Shall I show you the way?" 
 
 "If you will, please. But where were you going 
 just now?" 
 
 "To the kitchen, sir, with this tray." 
 
 "Tray?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. Mr. Yates Appleton's breakfast-tray." 
 
 The man's perceptible pause before the word 
 " breakfast " was illuminating, but unnecessarily so 
 to Gaunt. 
 
 "That is not a breakfast-tray, my man, unless 
 your master partook of a most injudicious meal. 
 He'd better not have anything more to drink 
 today, if you can keep it away from him." 
 
 "Drink, sir? How how did you know?" the 
 valet stammered, the shaking tray almost slipping 
 from his hands. 
 
 "From the tinkle of ice in the glass, and that 
 purring sound of gas in the siphon. If that tray 
 had been more heavily laden with dishes, for 
 instance I should have heard them clink together, 
 also, as you came toward me down the hall. What 
 is your name?"
 
 50 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 "James, sir." 
 
 "Well, James, at what hour did your master 
 return home last night, or, rather, this morning?" 
 
 "At about three o'clock, sir." 
 
 "How do you know? Did you wait up for 
 him?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. I mostly do, sir. It it isn't often 
 that he can get to bed by himself, sir." The man 
 spoke apologetically, but with eager frankness. 
 Evidently, he stood much in awe of his inquisitor. 
 
 "I understand. And in what condition was your 
 master when he returned this morning?" 
 
 "About as usual. Quite quite under the weather, 
 to to speak, but not what you might call bad, 
 sir. . . . This is his door." 
 
 James coughed discreetly, and knocked, and an 
 irritable, highly strung voice bade him enter. 
 
 "Mr. Gaunt, sir," announced James, and departed 
 swiftly and noiselessly. 
 
 "Oh!" said Yates Appleton, with a noticeable 
 change of 'tone. "Come in, Mr. Gaunt. What 
 is it you want to ask me? I'm afraid I've told 
 you everything I know." 
 
 "I'd like to know what jewelry was taken from 
 your brother's body," was the opening remark, 
 which evidently surprised the younger man by its 
 tenor. 
 
 "Oh, I've already given a list to Inspector Han- 
 rahan, as nearly as I can remember, and Garret's 
 man can tell me."
 
 LIES 51 
 
 "Still, I should like to have you repeat it to me/* 
 the detective reiterated, patiently. 
 
 "Pearl studs, pearl and mother-of-pearl vest- 
 buttons and cuff-buttons, a small gold watch, 
 thin gold cigarette-case, and a small seal purse. 
 That's all, I think." 
 
 "All? No small jeweled pin, or insignia of 
 some sort?" 
 
 Yates Appleton's knuckles cracked suddenly, 
 as he gripped the back of a high carved chair upon 
 which he was leaning. 
 
 "Pin? I never thought of that! He did have 
 some such thing, I believe. Frat* pin, from his 
 university days, I imagine, although I never 
 inquired. He was superstitious about it, and 
 wouldn't go without it; but in dinner-clothes 
 
 "He wore it pinned inside his vest-pocket, in 
 evening-clothes, didn't he?" 
 
 "Yes," Yates Appleton gasped, and looked his 
 perturbed astonishment. "By Jove! I remember 
 now, I've seen him pin it there once or twice, or 
 under the lapel of his coat. Silly of him; but, 
 as I say, he was superstitious about it. I'd like 
 to know how you found it out, Mr. Gaunt. Hardly 
 anybody knew about it." 
 
 "The thief did," Gaunt observed, quietly. 
 "Rather unusual, wasn't it? The man who robbed 
 and murdered him evidently was someone who 
 knew him and his habits thoroughly or else had 
 nerve enough, after firing a shot, which, had it
 
 52 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 been heard, would have brought the whole house 
 about his ears, to search his victim's clothes with 
 the most minute detail." 
 
 "Hum-m! I never thought of that," the young 
 man answered, thoughtfully. 
 
 "What did you do last evening, Mr. Appleton? 
 You went out immediately after dinner, did you 
 not?" 
 
 "Almost immediately. Family parties always 
 bore me." 
 
 "Where did you go?" 
 
 "To the club first the Patriarch's, for awhile. 
 Met some chaps I knew, and played cards, and 
 had a few drinks. Then, I drove around in the 
 car for awhile, and and " 
 
 "And then?" 
 
 "Then, I went to the rooms of a fellow I know, 
 and he came out with me." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "Oh, we rode around some more in the car, 
 and stopped at various places for drinks. Then, 
 I left him at his rooms, and came home to bed 
 myself." 
 
 "At what time did you leave the club?" 
 
 "The club? Oh, I don't know at about half- 
 past twelve." 
 
 "And when did you reach your friend's rooms?" 
 
 "About one." 
 
 "Your friend can verify that?" 
 
 "Yes, and the door-man at the club can verify
 
 LIES 53 
 
 the time I left there, if necessary, as you very well 
 know. Good heavens, man! you don't suspect me 
 of murdering my own brother, do you?" He 
 spoke with the irritability of nerves worn to the 
 breaking point. 
 
 "My dear Mr. Appleton, this is merely a matter 
 of form, you know. No one suspects you, of course; 
 but the police will go into this much more rigor- 
 ously, if I don't. They must know where every 
 member of this household was at every moment 
 last night. . . . Are your friend's rooms near the 
 club?" 
 
 "Within five minutes, in the motor car." The 
 young man spoke sullenly, but more quietly. 
 
 "So that, after leaving the club, you only drove 
 around by yourself for about twenty minutes?" 
 
 "Yes. I was coming home, and then I changed 
 my mind." 
 
 "At what time did you finally reach home?" 
 
 "I don't know about three, I suppose." 
 
 "And you heard or saw nothing unusual?" 
 
 "No. James was waiting up for me, in my dress- 
 ing-room, and I went straight to bed. I was feeling 
 ' a a little tight." 
 
 "I understand. Now, Mr. Appleton, will you 
 give me your friend's name and address, please?" 
 
 "Maurice Livingston, Bryant Chambers," the 
 young man returned, sullenly. 
 
 "Mr. Appleton, what is that strong odor of 
 witch-hazel I smell?"
 
 54 AT ONE-THIETY 
 
 "My hand I hurt it. My man's been dressing 
 it for me." 
 
 "How did you hurt it?" 
 
 "Bruised it got caught in the door of the car 
 last night." 
 
 "When?" 
 
 "I don't know. I was tight, I tell you intoxi- 
 cated, if you like that better! I only noticed it 
 this morning." 
 
 "Well, Mr. Appleton, I won't keep you much 
 longer. I wonder if you know of any enemies 
 your brother may have made if he feared anyone, 
 feared an attack of some sort?" 
 
 "Lord, no! He wasn't man enough to make 
 enemies," the affectionate brother returned, "not 
 bad enough enemies to want to take his life; although 
 there were lots who hated him, and a few who 
 would have been glad to have him out of the way." 
 
 "Out of the way? Whom do you mean by that, 
 Mr. Appleton?" the detective spoke peremptor- 
 ily, and the other man squirmed uneasily. 
 
 "Oh, I don't know!" he blundered. "There's 
 a chap whose rather gone on Natalie. Not that 
 she's ever given him any encouragement, that 
 I've noticed; but you never can tell about these 
 sly ones. She was jealous, and always rowing 
 Garret, you know, and playing the ill-used wife, 
 and bleating to Barbara about it, and maybe she 
 worked on this fellow's sympathies. He's one of 
 the intense, quiet kind. Perhaps he'll think there's
 
 LIES 55 
 
 a chance for him, now. I fancy he won't be sorry, 
 for one, that Garret's gone." 
 
 "What is the man's name?" 
 
 "Harmon Witherspoon. He lives down in the 
 old Witherspoon Mansion, on Washington Square." 
 
 "Well, Mr. Appleton, I won't detain you any 
 longer." Gaunt rose. "If I need you again, I 
 shall find you at your rooms theCalthorp, isn't it?" 
 
 "Yes. I am going straight there. This house 
 is getting on my nerves." 
 
 "Will you please ring for a servant, and have 
 me conducted to the drawing-room or library? I 
 want to interview Miss Ellerlsie." 
 
 "I'll take you myself. The library 'd be best." 
 Yates Appleton pressed the button in the wall with 
 alacrity, as if glad the searching interview was 
 over. "James," he added, when the man appeared, 
 "send someone to tell Miss Ellerslie that Mr. Gaunt 
 would like to speak to her in the library." 
 
 In the great entrance-hall, at the foot of the 
 stairs, however, they were halted by the Inspector. ; 
 
 "Mr. Gaunt, I'd like to speak to you for a minute 
 please. Were you going anywhere, special?" 
 
 "To the library, to interview Miss Ellerslie," 
 the detective replied. 
 
 "Then, if you don't mind, I'll show you the way 
 myself, after I've had a word with you." 
 
 Inspector Hanrahan waited until Mr. Yates 
 Appleton was up the stairs and well out of ear- 
 shot, before he spoke again.
 
 56 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 "It's about the autopsy, Mr. Gaunt. They 
 found the bullet, as you know; but they found 
 something else, too. It is a bruise on the left 
 shoulder, high up near the neck, as if it was a 
 blow aimed at the heart, and wide of the mark. 
 As sure as you're alive, Mr. Gaunt, someone hit 
 him a blow! That looks like a struggle, don't it? 
 That looks as if he'd tried to defend himself, and 
 been worsted. Sort of knocks your theory that 
 he just sat still and let himself be done to death, 
 don't it?" 
 
 "It looks like it, Inspector," Gaunt answered 
 with a slight smile, which gave no hint of the tumult 
 of his thoughts. "Any other marks on the body?'* 
 
 "None but the bullet-wound," the Inspector re- 
 turned, briefly. "But this is the darndest case I 
 ever struck in my life, Mr. Gaunt. Who killed him, 
 and why did they come back hours later and fix 
 up that window stunt ? " 
 
 "That's what we're here to find out. Been after 
 any more of the servants ? " 
 
 "Yes; but it's no good. Katie, the housemaid 
 that was stuck on Louis, Mr. Appleton's man, 
 won't admit a thing, and Maggie, the blatherskite 
 of a cook, won't do anything but weep, and wail, 
 and bemoan the day she left Ireland. I'm going 
 to get after Dakers, the butler, again. He's smooth 
 and polite, and slick as they come; but I have an idea 
 that fellow's got something up his sleeve." 
 
 "All right, Inspector. By the way, would you
 
 LIES 57 
 
 mind telling me what color hair this is? It's golden, 
 isn't it?" He pulled the strand of hair from his 
 vest-pocket as he spoke. 
 
 "Sure, it's golden, right enough." The Inspec- 
 tor's tone was full of honest wonder. "How'd you 
 know?" 
 
 "By the texture. I can tell the color of most 
 hair by the feel of it between my fingers not the 
 difference between the finer shadings, perhaps, but 
 the general tone." 
 
 "It beats me how you do it! But where did 
 you get it?" 
 
 "Never mind that now. I'll tell you if it turns 
 out to be important. Here comes Miss Ellerslie. 
 Let me know later if you learn anything." 
 
 "Miss Ellerslie? She ain't coming yet, Mr. 
 Gaunt. There ain't a soul in sight." 
 
 "I hear her footstep in the hall above. There! 
 She's just at the head of the stairs." 
 
 The Inspector glanced up involuntarily, and saw 
 a slight, gray-clad figure. 
 
 "Holy Virgin!" he muttered to himself, stepping 
 back, with round eyes full of wonder on the man 
 before him. "This is the library, here on your 
 right," he added hurriedly, and departed, all but 
 crossing himself as he went. 
 
 "You wished to see me, Mr. Gaunt?" the low, 
 sweet, pulsing voice sounded upon his ears, and 
 Barbara Ellerslie led the way into the library. "I 
 shall be glad to tell you anything I can."
 
 58 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 "Your sister, Mrs. Appleton how is she?" 
 Gaunt asked, for once at a loss how to lead up to 
 the subject he must inquire into. The nearness of 
 this strange, magnetic woman, the poignancy of 
 her, was as oddly disturbing as the vibrations of 
 the violin-like tones. She seemed to radiate a 
 suggestion of limitless power in her perfect self- 
 containment, of glowing health, of body and mind, 
 and soul, in her easy poise and control. 
 
 "She is better. The first reaction from the shock 
 has gone, and she is quieter. She will be able 
 to see you later, for d few moments, if you wish. 
 But, please, be very gentle with her, Mr. Gaunt." 
 The low voice sank even lower, as he was later to 
 know was its wont, when anything that touched 
 her very deeply was uttered. "She is not well, 
 not over-strong at best, and now she is in a delicate 
 condition. She has had much to endure, and it 
 culminated in the shock of this morning's tragedy. 
 Please, be very kind to her." 
 
 "I will," the detective found himself promising, 
 almost vehemently. "I shall not annoy her any 
 more than I can possibly help, and I shall try to 
 say nothing to grieve or excite her." 
 
 "Thank you." The voice was a mere tremulous 
 breath; but she must have leaned toward him, in- 
 voluntarily, for the clean, pure fragrance of her 
 hair and body, free from the taint of cloying scents 
 and acrid perfumes, stole over his senses, and 
 seemed to numb them. With an effort of his will,
 
 LIES 59 
 
 he pulled himself together, and spoke in a tone more 
 stern than he had meant, to cover his own con- 
 fusion and bewilderment at himself. 
 
 "But in order to spare your sister, Miss Ellers- 
 lie, I must ask you to answer my questions without 
 reservation. You went out immediately after 
 dinner, last evening?" 
 
 "Yes, to a wedding a very quiet one, that of 
 an old schoolmate. I went with friends, and 
 returned quite late." 
 
 "At what time?" 
 
 "About one o'clock." 
 
 "Did you retire at once?" 
 
 "No. My sister's maid and mine an old mam- 
 my, whom we brought with us from our home 
 was waiting up for me, and she said that Natalie 
 was awake, and very nervous. Without waiting 
 to disrobe, I went in and talked with her for some 
 time, until she quieted down, and almost slept. 
 Then, I returned to my room." 
 
 "You retired immediately?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "You were, therefore, not in or near the den from 
 the time dinner was over, either before you went 
 out, or after your return, until this morning, when 
 the discovery of Mr. Appleton's body aroused 
 the house?" 
 
 "No, Mr. Gaunt."
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE SISTERS 
 
 "^KT'OU are sure?" the detective asked, slowly. 
 
 The girl turned, and regarded him de- 
 liberately, as if she could read in his 
 sightless eyes the thoughts that were passing 
 through his mind. 
 
 "Why do you ask me that so persistently, Mr. 
 Gaunt? I was not in or near the den yesterday, 
 or last night. Had I been, I should have no reason 
 for concealing the fact from you." 
 
 "I thought that perhaps you might have for- 
 gotten," he replied, with unusual hesitancy. "It 
 is important that I should know who of this house- 
 hold visited that room, on no matter how innocent 
 an errand, during the hours preceding Garret 
 Appleton's death. You heard nothing unusual on 
 your return, nor at any time during the night?" 
 
 "No, Mr. Gaunt; and I am a very light sleeper, 
 as is my sister. I cannot understand why the 
 sound of that revolver-shot did not arouse some- 
 one, at least, in all this house." 
 
 "That is not unusual. The police records are 
 full of murder and suicide cases in crowded apart- 
 ment houses and tenements, where no one happens 
 to hear the shot fired, or, if they are awakened 
 
 60
 
 THE SISTERS 61 
 
 suddenly by something, do not take the trouble to 
 investigate, since all seems then to be quiet around 
 them. But tell me, please: The first idea you 
 had of the murder was when you were awakened 
 by the screams of the maid who discovered the 
 body?" 
 
 "Yes. At first, when the terrible, piercing shrielis 
 awakened me, I thought the house was on fire. I 
 thrust my feet into slippers, flung a heavy robe 
 about my shoulders, and rushed for my sister's 
 room. In the hall, however, it was borne in upon 
 my consciousness that the voice was crying * Mur- 
 der!' not 'Fire!' and, not knowing what it was, 
 but remembering my sister's delicate condition, 
 I felt that I must stop those awful screams before 
 she was disturbed, if possible, and frightened 
 half out of her senses. I turned and ran down- 
 stairs, following the direction of the cries, until 
 I came to the den. You know what I found 
 there." 
 
 "Who else of the household was there before 
 you?" 
 
 "The housemaid, Katie, of course. She it was 
 who had discovered the body. Maggie, the cook; 
 Dakers, the butler; James, Mr/ Yates Appleton's 
 man; and Mrs. Finlay Appleton's maid, Marie." 
 
 "What was their condition?" 
 
 "I don't remember, Mr. Gaunt, I didn't notice 
 very much. I was appalled, stunned, by the sight 
 of my brother-in-law's body. The maids were in
 
 62 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 hysterics, of course, and the butler in a state of 
 collapse. I remember seeing him crouched against 
 the wall, with his face buried in his hands, and 
 James standing over him, shaking his shoulder, 
 and I think he kept repeating: 'You fool! You 
 fool!' but I cannot be sure. It is all like a horrible 
 dream. Then then the rest came the family." 
 
 "Which of them appeared first?'* 
 
 "I don't know. I only remember my little sister 
 sobbing and shuddering in my arms, and Mrs. 
 Finlay Appleton standing there with her gray hair 
 all disheveled and her face as rigid as a death- 
 mask, staring down at the body of her son. I 
 only know that Yates appeared last, hanging to 
 the door-casing, as if he was afraid to enter the room, 
 and staring staring horribly. Then the low 
 voice sank to a throbbing whisper, and ceased. 
 ; "Then what?" Gaunt urged, gently. 
 
 "Then Mrs. Appleton seemed to realize his 
 presence, and she turned and spoke to him, and, 
 at her voice, he broke down and wept. After- 
 ward, when he was calmer, she sent him to dress 
 and go for you. Meantime, the butler had been 
 ordered to notify the police, and the officer and 
 Inspector came, and afterward the Coroner. The 
 rest you know." 
 
 "Miss Ellerslie, " the detective's voice was very 
 gentle, "you have lived North with your sister 
 since her marriage?" 
 
 "No; only for the last year. I would have
 
 " 1 only remember my little sister sobbing and shuddering 
 in my arms."
 
 THE SISTERS 63 
 
 preferred living in my home in the South, but my 
 sister wanted me needed me." 
 
 "I understand," Gaunt returned. "I have had 
 an interview with Mrs. Finlay Appleton." 
 
 The low voice took on a saddened, weary tone, 
 inexpressibly pathetic. 
 
 "Ah! Then you know all, and more, than I 
 can tell you. Mrs. Appleton considers us inter- 
 lopers, almost adventuresses. Her dearest matri- 
 monial plans and ambitions for her eldest son were 
 shattered when he met my sister, and she has never 
 forgiven it, and never will. He Garret came 
 down to the Horse Show at Louisville with Brooks 
 Guernsey, in his private car. We my sister and 
 I were orphans. Our three brothers were dead, 
 too, and we were living with our uncle, a veteran 
 horseman, near Louisville. Garret fell in love with 
 my sister, and she was fascinated by him. He was 
 better-looking then, dissipation hadn't left any ap- 
 preciable traces upon his face, and I think she was 
 dazzled by his wealth and social position. Fie was 
 a sort of fairy-prince to her, poor child! She was 
 only eighteen. I am four years older. . . . But 
 all this is irrelevant, isn't it?" 
 
 "No; go on, please. I want to hear everything." 
 
 "She married him, then, and came North, and 
 at first her letters were glowing. Later, she couldn't 
 keep her increasing unhappiness from straying into 
 them, and at last she begged me- to come to her. 
 I came, and saw the situation, and I stayed. I
 
 64 AT ONE-THIETT 
 
 knew I was unwelcome, detested oh, you can 
 imagine my almost unbearable position! But I 
 would not leave her, I would not be driven away, 
 because she clung to me, and we two were alone 
 in the world. My uncle, our last living relative, 
 died just after I came to New York. 
 
 "Garret's people, and Garret himself, hated me, 
 because I stood between her and what persecution 
 I was able to. We hoped she and I that, when 
 they knew she was going to have a child, they 
 would be more kind. Garret was utterly indif- 
 ferent; he was quite tired of her, longing to turn 
 back to a woman but I must not speak of that!* 
 As for Mrs. Appleton and Yates, they were wild 
 with rage. You understand, Mr. Gaunt, that the 
 birth of a child to Garret and Natalie robs Yates 
 of his full share of his father's fortune, and he is 
 the favorite of his mother. That was the condition 
 of affairs up to Garret's death." 
 
 "A most unfortunate state of things, Miss Ellers- 
 He," Gaunt said, sympathetically. Then, after a 
 moment's hesitation, he added: "This is a deli- 
 cate question, but I must get at the root of the 
 matter, and only you can help me. Do you think 
 please don't misunderstand me; I impute nothing 
 against the purity of your sister but is it not 
 possible that she may have known a change of heart 
 since her marriage?" 
 
 "A change of heart?" the girl repeated. Then, 
 her tones deepened, and grew husky, and trembled
 
 THE SISTERS 65 
 
 with contemptuous indignation as she added: "Ah! 
 I see what you mean! They have even dared to 
 imply that! That, too, was to have been a part 
 She broke off suddenly, breathing quickly in great 
 gasps, her perfect control for once shaken. After 
 a pause, which the detective dared not break, she 
 went on in a more even voice: 
 
 "My sister could scarcely find warm love in her 
 heart for a man who used her as Garret Appleton 
 did. Her girlhood dream of the fairy-prince was 
 shattered forever. But she was the essence, the 
 soul, of loyalty. Had I not been able to read 
 between the lines of her unconscious confessions, 
 I should never have known from her letters what 
 misery she was enduring before I came, and she 
 has lied to me valiantly, when I found great bruises 
 and marks upon her arms and body, until lying 
 was no longer possible. She does not complain to 
 anyone, it would be against every attribute of 
 her nature; but people who frequent the house 
 could not be altogether blind to the conditions that 
 existed here. There is one man who has been 
 sympathetic. It may be that he loves her I do 
 not know; but I am sure he has always shown her 
 the honor and respect due to another man's wife, 
 else she would have forbidden him the house, and 
 she would have told me. She is impetuous, 
 warm-hearted, perhaps a little volatile in some 
 superficial ways; but there is nothing low or intrigu- 
 ing, nothing dishonorable, in her nature."
 
 66 AT ONE-THIETY 
 
 "And you, yourself, Miss Ellerslie? You have 
 no plans for the future?" 
 
 He heard the soft rustle of her gown as she 
 made a sudden, startled movement; then her 
 hands fell quietly in her lap. 
 
 "My engagement to Mr. Randolph Force, you 
 mean?" she queried, her voice lingering over the 
 Jiame in an involuntary caress as she spoke. 
 
 The detective did not allow his surprise at this 
 hitherto undisclosed fact to manifest itself in his 
 face. 
 
 "That is a thing of the past. We were to have 
 been married this autumn; but I would not leave 
 my sister, in her sad condition. Now, it shall be 
 never. I shall marry no one. When this tragic 
 mystery is solved, or buried in oblivion, I shall 
 take her away from this dreadful house, back to 
 our home in the South, and try to help her to 
 forget these three awful years. There will only be 
 her little child to remind her, and it may in time 
 become a real comfort and solace to her." 
 
 " But you ? " exclaimed the detective. "Why have 
 you broken your engagement, Miss Ellerslie ? " 
 
 "I shall break it," she returned, with a hint 
 of withdrawal, of aloofness, in her tones; "because, 
 let us say, I have experienced a 'change of heart* 
 at any rate, that has nothing to do with the 
 present case, Mr. Gaunt." 
 
 "I beg your pardon," he said, rising. "I had no 
 desire to seem impertinent. I have one last r-
 
 THE SISTEES 67 
 
 quest to make of you : Will you allow me to touch 
 your hair? I know this must seem strange to 
 you; but we who are blind see mostly with our 
 fingers, you know. I am anxious to know the 
 color and texture of your hair." 
 
 "It is red," she replied, in a puzzled tone, "plain, 
 unmitigated red. My sister's is golden. But 
 yes, you may feel it, if you like.'* 
 
 Upon his frank mention of his affliction, her 
 resentment at his apparent prying into that which 
 lay nearest her heart had vanished, and her gentle 
 voice betrayed a deeply compassionate timbre 
 which reached to the man's very heart-strings, 
 as no pity, no tenderness, had ever done in all his 
 clouded life. 
 
 She leaned forward again, and once more the. 
 clean, pure fragrance of her assailed him. HCN 
 placed his hand for an instant upon her soft hair K 
 and then withdrew it instantly, in a manner that, 
 gave no hint of anything save the purely impersonal* 
 
 "Thank you," he said, quietly. "And thank 
 you, also, Miss Ellerslie, for replying to my seemingly 
 impertinent questions so frankly. My motives, 
 as you know, were not those of idle curiosity. Do 
 you think that I might venture to see Mrs. Apple-, 
 ton, your sister, now, for just a few moments?" 
 
 "I will see. I think so, Mr. Gaunt. You wil| ! 
 remain here?" 
 
 "Yes. If you will have one of the servants let 
 me know, I will go to her,"
 
 8 AT ONE-THIETY 
 
 There was a soft rustle, a stirring of the air, and 
 a gentle receding footfall. Gaunt sat where she 
 had left him, a prey to sensations to which he had 
 in all the past been a stranger. What was the 
 peculiar, overmastering influence that this woman, 
 out of all persons with whom he had come in con- 
 tact, seemed unconsciously to exercise over him? 
 Ebr presence, her physical and mental nearness, 
 seemed to produce an intoxication, an exhilaration, 
 an inward reaching out toward her, to which he 
 could give no name. Could it be that he, the 
 keen, calculating dissector of human motives and 
 emotions, the automaton, from whose sightless 
 eyes the world of romance must be forever hidden, 
 was falling in love with a woman's voice, with the 
 indications, manifest to his wonderfully acute 
 intuition, of a pure and lovely nature? 
 
 He pulled himself up short in his line of thought 
 with a strong effort of will. He was a detective, 
 an officer of the law, engaged in the perpetual 
 battle against crime. A dead man, who no matter 
 what sins had blackened his private life, no matter 
 what evilness had sullied his nature had been 
 foully done to his death, and lay separated from 
 him by only a wall or two, mutely begging for the 
 only justice left that could be meted out to him 
 in this world, demanding vengeance on his slayer! 
 And he, Damon Gaunt, who had answered that 
 silent call, who had accepted that sacred trust, 
 was idly allowing himself to drift into dangerous
 
 He placed his hand for an instant upon her soft hair, then withdrew 
 
 it instantly.
 
 THE SISTEES 69 
 
 byways, lured by the unconscious charm of an 
 innocent siren! Every moment wasted in idle 
 thought was a treachery to the cold clay lying 
 near, the thing that had borne at least the semblance 
 of manhood, the father of a little unborn child. 
 
 And there was work ahead for him to do 
 work that would require the full play of all his 
 trained faculties, that would tax his every resource 
 to the uttermost. Which of the many significant 
 strands he held in his hand would lead to the 
 truth? Which of the telltale evidences he pos- 
 sessed of the strange and varied way in which the 
 secret hours of the night had been passed in the 
 den, would point to the unknown hand that had 
 pressed the trigger? 
 
 Soft,, light footsteps warned him of Barbara 
 Ellerslie's return, and in a moment her quiet tones 
 thrilled through the silence of the room. 
 
 "If you will come now, Mr. Gaunt, please. My 
 sister is eager to talk with you." 
 
 Fie rose and followed her in silence until she 
 turned to guide his steps, and side by side they 
 went up the great staircase together. 
 
 At the door of young Mrs. Appleton's room, she 
 halted, and, turning to him, whispered tremu- 
 lously: 
 
 "Remember your promise, Mr. Gaunt. Be very 
 gentle with her. She has suffered so much, and I 
 fear she is going to be very ill. Please, do not 
 take too seriously any random remarks she may
 
 70 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 make. She seems a little light-headed to me. 
 Please, please, spare her all you can!" 
 
 He bowed his head in silent reassurance, and she 
 turned the doorknob softly. 
 
 "Natalie, dear," she said, and he marveled 
 anew at the tender mother-note that deepened 
 in her tones, " here is Mr. Gaunt. He must see 
 you alone for just a minute, dear. He will not 
 distress you; he is here as a friend, to help us 
 in our trouble. ... Sit here, please. 
 
 She guided him to a soft, billowy, absurdly low 
 chair, and he heard the quiet closing of a door behind 
 her. 
 
 A little, dry, burning hand, like a bird's claw, 
 grasped his convulsively, and the shrill, high, 
 childlike voice of the morning cried out in an- 
 guished tones: 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Gaunt, who did it? Who killed my 
 husband?" 
 
 For reply he raised his head suddenly, and asked 
 sternly : 
 
 "Who else is in this room?" 
 
 "Why, no one ' began Natalie Appleton; but 
 a trembling, aged voice interrupted her. 
 
 "Hit's me, suh. Ah jes' couldn' bear ter go 
 Vay an' leave mah chil' 'lone wif yo'. She's 
 reel po'ly, an' she needs 'er ol' mammy. 'Sides 
 Ah wanter know what yo' gwine do ter 'er!" 
 
 "Why, Mammy Lu!" the girl for she was little 
 more cried out in distress. "I told you to go out
 
 THE SISTEBS 71 
 
 I told you! I want to talk to Mr. Gaunt alone. 
 Why didn't Miss Barbara see that you obeyed 
 me?" 
 
 "Mis' Ba'b'ra done tole me ter go; but I was 
 behine de do' w'en she done open hit," the old 
 woman returned, rebelliously. " Ain' gwine to 
 have mah chil' flustrated no mo* dis day!" 
 
 "Well, you are going out immediately! Do you 
 hear me, Mammy Lu?" 
 
 Natalie sat up on her pillows, and waited until, 
 with much grumbling and dubious shaking of her 
 head, the old negress had taken her departure. 
 
 "There, she's gone!" Natalie sank back with an 
 exhausted air upon her couch. "I didn't intend 
 to deceive you, really, Mr. Gaunt. I didn't know 
 she was there. She brought us both up, Barbara 
 and me, and she takes liberties, sometimes." 
 
 "That is all right, I quite understand," he re- 
 turned, soothingly. "Let me arrange your pillows 
 for you. There!" 
 
 He deftly smoothed the pillows about the little 
 face, and contrived in so doing to get a strand of 
 her hair between his fingers. He paused for an 
 imperceptible instant of time, and then, patting a 
 cushion with his left hand, he deliberately took 
 a lock of her shining hair between the fingers of 
 his right, and felt it. It was soft and fine and 
 silky the identical texture of the slender strand 
 which had wound around his fingers a few hours 
 before, the strand he had taken from the pendant
 
 72 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 of the low-hanging brass lamp in the room of 
 death. 
 
 She smiled up at him, as he seated himself again, 
 in acknowledgment of his kindness, not dreamed 
 that he had discovered that for which he had 
 searched all day, and discovered it where he would 
 least have desired to come upon it. 
 
 "Mrs. Appleton, I don't know who killed your 
 husband,'* he replied to her question, at last. "I 
 am here to find out, if I can, and I want you to 
 help me." 
 
 "Me? Why, what can I do, Mr. Gaunt? How 
 should I know what happened? I was asleep 
 think of it! Asleep, through it all!" 
 
 "Just answer a few questions as nearly as you 
 can remember, Mrs. Appleton; try to think clearly. 
 I want to know just what occurred after dinner last 
 evening." 
 
 "Nothing. Everything was quite as usual I 
 mean, as usual when just the the Carharts dine 
 with us." 
 
 "And that is often?" 
 
 "Yes, very that is, since Garret's mother and 
 brother have been staying with us. She and the 
 Judge played double-dummy bridge; Barbara went 
 to Clara Shirley's wedding; Yates went out some- 
 where, too I don't know where. I didn't feel 
 very well, and went up to bed early." 
 
 "You were ill?" 
 
 "N-no. Just not very well."
 
 THE SISTERS 73 
 
 "Were you unhappy, depressed? You need 
 not be afraid to answer me frankly. I have talked 
 with Mrs. Appleton, and your brother-in-law and 
 sister. I know the situation between you and 
 your husband. You went up-stairs to be by your- 
 self?" 
 
 There was a pause, and then suddenly she doubled 
 her little fists, and beat upon the soft-padded arms 
 of her chaise-longue. 
 
 "Yes!" she burst out in a muffled voice, as if 
 from between clenched teeth. "Yes! I cou'dn't 
 stand it any longer! Her presence in my house, 
 the looks that passed between her and my hus- 
 band, the glances they cast at me! They showed 
 me so plainly, they showed that they were trying 
 to make me feel that I was an interloper, that I 
 stood between them and happiness. Oh! I am 
 not jealous, Mr. Gaunt; all that has passed long 
 ago. But I am proud. This was my home, and 
 I was being thrust aside, made to feel of no account, 
 a stumbling-block, whom they were forced to tol- 
 erate. It was horrible!" 
 
 "But you are sure, Mrs. Appleton? Perhaps 
 your the state of your health makes you fanciful. 
 Perhaps your husband was only showing ordinary 
 courtesy to the daughter of an old friend." 
 
 With a convulsive intake of her breath, she 
 opened her lips to speak; but no words came. 
 After a moment of silence, she said, in an oddly 
 constrained, repressed tone:
 
 T4 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 "Yes, I am sure now!" 
 
 "Why now?" he asked, quickly. 
 
 "Because oh, anyway, I I ought to know, Mr. 
 Gaunt." She spoke with child-like querulousness, 
 then went on quickly: "At any rate, I couldn't 
 bear to stay any longer watching her sitting there 
 in my drawing-room, talking and looking as if she 
 wished me out of the way. I thought that, if she 
 wanted to talk to my husband alone, I would 
 give her an opportunity; so I excused myself, and 
 came up to bed. I disrobed, and tried to read; 
 but the words all ran together in a jumble, and I 
 couldn't fix my mind on anything. I thought of 
 telephoning the doctor for a sleeping-powder he 
 had told me when I felt very nervous and upset 
 to let him know. But then I remembered the 
 the people down-stairs, and that they would make 
 inquiries, and Garret would say I I had done it 
 for effect. So, I decided to wait until Barbara 
 came home." 
 
 She paused, and Gaunt took her little hot hand 
 in his for an instant, in silent encouragement. 
 
 "And did you?" he urged her, gently. 
 
 "Y-yes." The high, bell-like voice, with 'the 
 little suggestion of her sister's in its drawling 
 sweetness, faltered, and then went on hastily: 
 "When she returned, Mammy Lu t-told her I 
 was nervous, and she came in, and we talked for 
 a little while, and she quieted me she always can ' 
 and I f-fell asleep."
 
 THE SISTERS 75 
 
 Why did she hesitate, and stumble so over her 
 simple recital? 
 
 "You did not wait for your husband to come 
 up-stairs?" 
 
 "Oh, no!" the matter-of-fact tone was infinitely 
 pathetic in its unconsciousness. "Garret never 
 troubled to come in and say 'good night' to me 
 lately. He usually sits down in the the den 
 her trembling voice sank to a whisper; she had not 
 yet realized the truth fully; she had not yet learned 
 to speak of her husband in the past tense "until 
 long after everyone else in the house is asleep. He 
 stays there, drinking by himself until he is in a 
 stupor." 
 
 "I understand. Well, Mrs. Appleton, what is 
 the next thing you remember?" His voice was 
 still gentle, but it held a compelling, insistent 
 underlying note to which she involuntarily re- 
 sponded. 
 
 "I woke up with terrible screams ringing in my 
 ears, and I heard quick footsteps, as of someone 
 running along the hall and down the stairs. I 
 threw on something, and ran down, too. I heard 
 a commotion in the den, and rushed to it. Every- 
 one seemed to be there, the servants and all all 
 but Mammy Lu. I found out later that she was 
 hiding up-stairs, frightened half to death. And 
 Yates I didn't notice him anywhere. And then 
 I saw Garret! He was sitting in his big chair 
 by the table, staring straight at me with awful,
 
 76 AT ONE-THIETY 
 
 bulging eyes, and there was a great red blotch on 
 his shirt-front. The the next thing I knew, I 
 was in Barbara's arms, hiding my face on her 
 shoulder to keep from seeing Garret. I don't 
 remember what happened after that, except begging 
 some strange men police ofHcers, I think they 
 were to let me leave that dreadful room, and 
 come up here." 
 
 "Mrs. Appleton," Gaunt's voice was very grave, 
 "at what time were you in the den yesterday?" 
 
 "In the d-den?" she stammered; and the 
 detective could hear the silken coverlet shiver 
 with her involuntary start. "I I haven't been 
 in the den. I can't remember when I was there 
 last days ago, any way. Why d-did you ask 
 me that?" 
 
 "Think, Mrs. Appleton. Try to remember," 
 he urged, his gravity deepening, as he ignored her 
 question. ' You were in the den, y,ou know! 
 Think!" 
 
 "But I wasn't! I wasn't! What do you mean? 
 What are you trying to insinuate!" her voice rose 
 shrilly, in hysterical trepidation. 
 
 "Don't you remember?" he persisted, a note of 
 sternness creeping into his tones. "You caught 
 your hair on that brass hanging lamp." 
 
 While she watched him, in terrified fascination, 
 he drew slowly from his vest-pocl;et the telltale 
 strand of hair, and, gripping one end firmly between 
 his fingers, he held it out to her.
 
 THE SISTERS 77 
 
 < i 
 
 'See! This is your hair, isn't it? It matches 
 yours. I found it caught on one of the swinging 
 pendants of the lamp." 
 
 She snatched at it, in a frenzy of terror. 
 
 "It's not mine!" she screamed. "I thought 
 you were blind! How can you tell?" 
 
 "Think, Mrs. Appleton," he repeated, sternly. 
 "When were you in the den? When did you catch 
 your hair on the lamp ? " 
 
 There was silence, while she draw a deep, quiver- 
 ing breath, like a hurt animal. At last, she gave 
 a little shuddering, hysterical laugh, which ended in 
 a strangling gasp. 
 
 "Why why, of course," she breathed with a 
 catch in her trembling voice. "How how stupid 
 of me! I was in the den the day before yester 
 no, yesterday morning! I went to to s-see if 
 the maid had dusted properly. I I remember 
 catching my hair on that s-silly old lamp. Garret 
 would have it hung so low!" 
 
 "Ah! I thought you would remember." Gaunt 
 quietly replaced the strand of hair in his pocket; 
 and she saw that he knew her suddenly awakened 
 remembrance for the shallow lie that it was, and 
 shuddered. 
 
 To her infinite relief, he rose, and took her tremb- 
 ling little hand, which had turned suddenly icy- 
 cold, in his. 
 
 "Well, Mrs. Appleton, I won't worry you with 
 questions any longer. You must try to get some
 
 78 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 rest now. I shall do my best to find the person 
 who is responsible for this morning's tragedy, 
 be sure of that. I will drop in on you again when 
 you are able to see me." 
 
 But young Mrs. Appleton did not seem to have 
 heard. Her effort at self-control had been too 
 much, and she appeared on the verge of collapse. 
 
 "Barbara!" she moaned. "Barbara! Barbara!" 
 
 "Miss Ellerslie!" he called. There was no need 
 for a second summons. He heard an inner door 
 open, and a swift rush of her light feet, and in an 
 instant she had gathered the girl in her arms. 
 Natalie Appleton clung to her, and broke into 
 wild weeping. 
 
 "I'm afraid our little talk has been too much for 
 your sister," Gaunt explained, smoothly. "I will 
 leave her with you." 
 
 She paid no attention to him, and he made his 
 way quietly from the room, closing the door gently 
 behind him. But, as he felt his way along the hall 
 toward the stairs, he heard young Mrs. Appleton's 
 voice raised in a strangling scream: 
 
 "Oh, Barbara! He knows! He knows!"
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 "CAIN!" 
 
 GAUNT encountered Katie, the housemaid, 
 in the hall, and she guided him back to 
 the library. 
 
 "Oh, sir," she asked, at the door, "have you 
 found out anything? Does the Inspector gentle- 
 man know what what happened to Mr. Apple- 
 ton?" 
 
 "Not yet," he returned. "You will all know as 
 soon as the family does." 
 
 "Oh, thank you, sir!" she stammered. 
 
 "Will you send the butler Dakers to me, 
 please?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 Dakers was tardy in coming, and in the mean- 
 time Gaunt turned over in his mind the result 
 of his last interview. So young Mrs. Appleton, too, 
 had been in that fatal room during the previous 
 night! That telltale strand of hair had given her 
 away, and her agitation, her terror, her palpable 
 falsehood, had betrayed her no less than the last 
 despairing cry he had overheard. It was incred- 
 ible that she had fired the shot which killed her 
 husband. Yet she was maddened by his abuse of 
 her, and his open attention to another woman 
 
 79
 
 80 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 under her roof, and women in her condition were 
 sometimes rendered temporarily abnormal men- 
 tally. Would that account for the pried-open 
 window, the efforts to make the crime seem the 
 result of an ordinary burglary? Could that have 
 been the work of the devoted sister? She had the 
 strength of mind to conceive and carry it out. 
 She was resolute, possessed of admirable self-con- 
 trol. Then, too, the obvious, sketchy way the ruse 
 had been perpetrated hinted at feminine illogic. 
 Yet it did not seem to be within the realm of pos- 
 sibility that young Mrs. Appleton could deliberately, 
 or on insane impulse, have taken her husband's 
 life. 
 
 Dakers finally made his appearance. He was 
 bearing a huge silver tray covered with a napkin, 
 and he placed it on a low table before Gaunt, with 
 a flourish. 
 
 "A bit of lunch, sir," he remarked briskly. "Mrs. 
 Appleton Mrs. Finlay Appleton sent it. She 
 said you must be famished, sir. It's past three.'* 
 
 Gaunt suddenly became conscious that he was 
 hungry, wolfishly hungry. He had had nothing 
 that day save his early-morning coffee, and he ate 
 heartily, with Dakers standing by. 
 
 The butler was a pompous, rotund, little man, 
 with sharp, rat-like eyes in his smug face, and large, 
 soft, white hands. 
 
 He stood regarding the detective with lofty con- 
 tempt while the latter uncovered the dishes upon
 
 "CAIN!" 81 
 
 the tray; but his expression changed somewhat 
 when Gaunt, after passing his finger-tips lightly 
 over the silver tops of the salt- and pepper-shakers, 
 selected the one with the smallest perforations, and 
 poured a bit of its contents into his hand. He felt 
 it delicately with his finger, and then turned to the 
 waiting servant. 
 
 "This is white pepper," he remarked, quietly. 
 "I prefer the black. Will you bring me some, 
 please?" 
 
 With prompt servility, not untinged with re- 
 spectful awe, Dakers obeyed, and when Gaunt, 
 satisfied, pushed away his cup and plate, and 
 addressed him, he replied obsequiously. 
 
 "You are the butler? How old are you, Dakers?" 
 
 "Fifty-six, sir. I've been with the Appleton 
 family for nine years. Before that I was with the 
 Staceys and the Postleys " 
 
 "That's all right, Dakers. I don't want your 
 pedigree. I want to know what you can tell me 
 about this affair." 
 
 "I, sir? Nothing, sir," the butler replied, with 
 an air of injured innocence. 
 
 "What did you do last night, after you served 
 dinner?" 
 
 "I attended to my usual duties, sir. Locked 
 
 up the silver, and carried the decanter and ice 
 
 and siphon up to the the den," he stammered 
 
 "over the word as the others had done, "for Mr. 
 
 Appleton to use later, just as I always do. Then
 
 82 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 I went down to the servant's dining-room that's 
 in the front basement, sir and stayed until the 
 family had retired, and it was time to lock up the 
 house. Then I went to bed." 
 
 "You heard nothing during the night?" 
 
 "Nothing, sir, until Katie's screams woke me. 
 I thought first of burglars. I remembered the 
 plate under my charge, and I hurried down." 
 
 "And then what?" 
 
 "When I saw the poor master, sir, I I don't 
 know what I did, I was that shocked. I went all 
 to pieces, sir.'* 
 
 "Who was there before you?" 
 
 "I I hardly know, sir. Katie the housemaid, 
 and Marie, and the cook, I think, and Mr. Yates* 
 man, James." 
 
 "Then the family came?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. James tried to buck me up, and, 
 when I'd pulled myself together a bit, Mrs. Finlay 
 Appleton sent me out to notify the police. That's 
 all I know, sir." 
 
 "After you attended to your usual duties, did 
 you serve anything to the family during the evening?'* 
 
 "Yes, sir. A grenadine lemonade to the ladies 
 Mrs. Finlay Appleton and Miss Carhart and 
 Scotch highballs to Judge Carhart and Mr. Apple- 
 ton." 
 
 "Nothing to Mrs. Garret Appleton?" 
 
 "No, sir. She had retired when I served them." 
 
 "Did you come up-stairs again before locking up?"
 
 "CAIN!" 83 
 
 "Yes, sir. To open the door for Judge Carhart 
 and Miss Carhart when they left. After that, I 
 locked the house." 
 
 ''You did not admit Miss Ellerslie?" 
 
 "No; she had her keys. She expected to be 
 out until very late. It was Mr. Appleton's orders, 
 sir. I never waited up for Mr. Yates." 
 
 "And then you went directly to bed?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "That will do, Dakers, thank you. Ask Marie 
 to come here, please." 
 
 "Very good, sir." Dakers picked up his tray, 
 and departed. 
 
 Had the man really "something up his sleeve," 
 as Inspector Hanrahan had suspected? He had 
 seemed guilelessly prompt in his replies; but his 
 servility was misleading, and the detective did not 
 like his manner of licking his lips, like a cat. The 
 man's manner suggested slyness; but Gaunt did 
 not credit him with enough intelligence to conceal 
 any important evidence, should he possess it. 
 
 Marie heralded her entrance with a quick tapping 
 of pointed finger-nails upon the door, and exuded 
 a slight odor of the delicate perfume, when she 
 approached, that Gaunt had previously noticed in 
 the presence of the elder Mrs. Appleton. Evidently, 
 the maid had taken a secret dip into her mistress* 
 scent bottle, in honor of this interview a touch of 
 coquetry inherent in those of her nationality. She 
 was a sallow, angular, sharp-featured woman of
 
 S& AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 middle age, with bold, black eyes, and full, scarlet 
 lips, and she flashed a respectful, ingratiating smile 
 at him, with a gleam of her even, white teeth, 
 forgetting for the moment that it was wasted. 
 
 "I am here, m'sieu. I am Marie." 
 
 "Will you tell me, Marie, what happened when 
 you rushed to the den this morning, in response to 
 the housemaid's cries?" 
 
 "Weeth plaisir, m'sieu. I was ze firs' to respon*. 
 Katee was still shr-rieking, and the poor M'sieu 
 Appleton but zat you know. I scream once, me, 
 also, an' zen I try to quiet Katee. Zen ze cook, 
 she have come, and Dakairs and James, an' zen 
 Mees Ellerslie. Aftair zat, arrive Madame Apple- 
 ton and la petite madame, an', at ze last, M'sieu 
 Yates." 
 
 "Marie, do you remember exactly what happened 
 when Mrs. Finlay Appleton turned from her son's 
 body, and saw her younger son standing in the 
 doorway? Did you hear the words she said to 
 him?" 
 
 "Yes, m'sieu. She pointed her hand at him, 
 like zis oh, I forget! Pardon, m'sieu! and she 
 say, 'Cain!' Joost zat one leetle word, 'Cain!" 
 
 "Ah!" the detective permitted the involuntary 
 ejaculation of satisfaction to escape him. Then 
 he added: "And Mr. Yates Appleton what did 
 he reply?" 
 
 "He say, ' ' Mon Dieu!' no, in Engleesh 'My 
 God! Not zat not zat!' An' he seenk down
 
 "CAIN!" 85 
 
 on his knees, zere een ze doorway, an* put hees 
 hands to hees face, an' sob, joost like a leetle 
 chil', an' ze tears tr-reeckle down between hees fin- 
 gairs." 
 
 "Thank you, Marie. That is all I wanted to 
 know. Er you heard nothing during the night?" 
 
 "Nosing, m'sieu. Onlee " The woman hesi- 
 tated. 
 
 "Only what?" the detective asked, sharply. 
 
 "Mees Ellerslie, m'sieu. She have ze room 
 directly ondairneath mine, an' she walk, walk, 
 most of ze night; but nearly ze morning have ar- 
 rive all ees quiet, an' I sleep. Zat ees all, I have 
 hear. No report of a pistol." 
 
 "Very well, Marie. That will do. But, before 
 you go, I should like to know if your mistress, 
 Mrs. Appleton, permits you to take her perfume 
 for your personal use. " 
 
 " Her pairfume ? I I do not comprehend, m'sieu I 
 I do not touch ze pairfume of madame. " 
 
 "You have a touch of it upon you now. I should 
 advise you to be more careful, if you wish to retain 
 your place." 
 
 "Ah, m'sieu, eet was an accident ze bottle 
 teeped, an' I 'ave speel a few drops. Eeet ees 
 nosing. M'sieu, I pray, weel say no word of eet to 
 madame!" The brazen flare in her voice was 
 replaced by an anxious note. 
 
 "Very well, Mary; but be careful. Please, 
 send Dakers to me again."
 
 86 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 When the butler appeared, Gaunt sent him to 
 ask Miss Ellerslie to come to him for a moment, 
 and then sat quietly waiting, with a half-smile 
 upon his lips. "Cain!" Mrs. Appleton had brand- 
 ed her youngest son. She believed him to be the 
 midnight visitant, the assassin of his brother. 
 She herself had given no credence to the clumsy 
 evidences of burglary; although she had had no 
 time or opportunity to examine them, and although 
 she had so stoutly asserted her belief in them to 
 the detective, later, and simulated amazement 
 and incredulity when the truth of the fabrication 
 was so soon made manifest. The intricacies of 
 the case were multiplying with almost incredible 
 rapidity; but soon an illuminating light must be 
 thrown on this labyrinth of mystery, and a way 
 to the truth be revealed. 
 
 The footsteps of Miss Ellerslie sounded in the 
 hall, and she entered, closing the door behind 
 her. 
 
 "Mr. Gaunt, you did not keep your promise to 
 me," she said, with a world of reproach in her 
 voice. "Had I known that you meant to torture 
 my little sister as you did, I should never have 
 permitted you to see her. I implored you not to 
 tax her beyond her strength. I warned you that 
 she was light-headed, that too much credence must 
 not be placed upon what she might say." 
 
 "I am very sorry, Miss Ellerslie. I tried to be 
 very gentle, and I was as considerate as the occa-
 
 "CAIN!" 7 
 
 sion would permit. I merely attempted to recall 
 a certain incident to Mrs. Appleton's mind and 
 succeeded." 
 
 "So that was why you wished to touch my hair! 
 I could not imagine " She broke off abruptly, 
 then added: "If you had told me, Mr. Gaunt, 
 if you had shown me the strand of hair you found 
 entangled in the pendant of the lamp, I could 
 have told you that my sister was in the den yester- 
 day morning." 
 
 "You knew it, then?" The question was shot 
 quickly at her. 
 
 "Certainly, since I suggested it," she replied 
 composedly. "Garret had been complaining that 
 his den was not properly dusted and put in order, 
 and I did not want any further aspersions to be 
 cast upon my sister's housekeeping ability or 
 inclination by those members of the household 
 who were hostile to her. . . . But you sent for 
 me, Mr. Gaunt, I believe? I do not want to 
 remain away from my sister any longer than is 
 absolutely necessary. Her condition is quite alarm- 
 ing. She seems to be almost delirious, and I have 
 sent a messenger for the doctor." 
 
 "I am sorry," Gaunt said once more. "I will 
 not detain you long. You told me, when I talked 
 with you before, if you remember, that this morning, 
 at the time of the discovery of the crime, when 
 Mrs. Finlay Appleton turned from the body of her 
 elder son, and saw the younger standing in the door-
 
 88 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 way, she spoke to him, and he broke down and 
 wept. What did she say to him?" 
 
 "I don't know." Barbara Ellerslie's hesitation 
 was apparent. "I did not hear distinctly, and my 
 whole attention was given to my sister." , 
 
 "You heard something, however indistinct. * 
 What did it sound Jike ? A long sentence or short ? " j 
 
 "Oh, very short. Just a-a word, I think a 
 single word." 
 
 "Was that word 'Cain,' Miss Ellerslie?" 
 
 "Please don't ask me, Mr. Gaunt!" The dis- 
 tressed cry was wrung from her. "Remember, 
 my brain was overwrought, distraught! If I 
 fancied that was said, and repeated it, it would 
 look like a deliberate accusation, without a shadow 
 of proof and beyond the bounds of probability, 
 and I I will not seem to cast such an imputation 
 on anyone. If that is what I imagined I heard, 
 my ears may have misled me. Mrs. Appleton, 
 for all her outward calm when you arrived, must 
 have been as overwrought as I and more, since 
 it was her son who lay dead before her. One 
 should not be judged by what one says or does in 
 the madness of such a moment. There is little 
 kindliness on my heart toward her and hers, God : 
 knows; yet justice is justice!" 
 
 "I understand, Miss Ellerslie, and I am an- 
 swered. Did Mr. Yates Appleton reply, as he 
 broke down, 'My God! Not that! Not that!'?" 
 
 " Really, I cannot tell you. It it sounded some-
 
 "CAIN!" 89 
 
 thing like that to me; but I cannot commit my- 
 self. I paid little or no attention. I cannot, 
 will not, make any statement concerning it! And 
 now, Mr. Gaunt may I return to my sister? She 
 needs me. It is not safe to leave her now in Mammy 
 Lu's care alone, even for a moment." 
 
 "Yes, Miss Ellerslie. I will not detain you any 
 longer. Thank you for coming down again. I 
 may perhaps call tomorrow, when I hope your 
 sister will be better. Please s assure her that she 
 need not be afraid of me." Then, as he felt her 
 eyes fixed upon him in sudden, questioning sus- 
 picion, he added with a smile: "I am not quite 
 an ogre!" 
 
 "I will tell her, Mr. Gaunt," her voice was 
 reassured, but infinitely sad, as she said, in an 
 afterthought, "when she is able to understand. 
 She seems very, very ill. I am in fear for her 
 safety, her reason. Let me know, of course, if 
 there is anything further that I can do, can tell 
 you. And if any further developments occur, 
 I should like to know of them, for all our sakes. 
 Good-by." 
 
 She left the room, and for a few moments the 
 detective sat buried in thought. How loyally, 
 how valiently, she had lied for the woman up- 
 stairs! And yet she might have been sticking to 
 the letter of the truth; her sister might have gone 
 to inspect the den the previous morning. But 
 that she had visited it later, sometime, in fact,
 
 90 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 during the hours of the night, and that Barbara 
 Ellerslie knew of it, was patent. Young Mrs. 
 Appleton's terror at his question, and the agonized 
 cry he had overheard from outside her door, were 
 damning proof. 
 
 He rose, and rang the bell. 
 
 "Ring for my car, please,'* he directed, giving 
 the number when the butler appeared. "And 
 tell Mrs. Finlay Appleton that I have finished 
 here for today, and will let her know at once when 
 I have any definite news for her, or require further 
 information. Is Inspector Hanrahan here?" 
 
 "No, sir. He went an hour ago. He may be 
 back at any moment, sir. Would you care to 
 wait?" Dakers' respect had evidently increased. 
 A detective who could afford to keep a private motor 
 was foreign to his experience, and must be a person 
 of some importance. 
 
 Gaunt encountered Inspector Hanrahan, who 
 returned as he was on the point of departure. 
 
 "Anything new?" he asked. 
 
 "Got him," was the Inspector's succinct reply. 
 
 "Got him! Who?" 
 
 "Louis Lantelme," Inspector Hanrahan ex- 
 plained. " The valet Mr. Appleton kicked out 
 a month ago the fellow the housemaid, Katie, 
 was stuck on. I'm afraid he's got a good alibi, 
 though, for last night. He told a pretty straight 
 story, and one that can be easily proved. Got 
 anything yourself, Mr. Gaunt?"
 
 "CAIN!" 91 
 
 "Not very much. There's something I want 
 you to do for me, though. Find out for me the 
 hour Mr. Yates Appleton left the Patriarchs' 
 Club last night." 
 
 "What's that?" the Inspector asked, in eager 
 surprise. 
 
 "Oh, not what you think it is!" smiled Gaunt. 
 "I know where he was all the rest of the night. 
 It's no question of an alibi. I just want to know 
 the exact time he left the club, and I haven't time 
 to look it up, myself. The door-man can tell 
 you; and possibly some of the waiters, or card- 
 room attendants, can corroborate him." 
 
 "All right, Mr. Gaunt; I'll attend to it." 
 
 "And you might drop around to my rooms to- 
 night, if you find this out in the meantime, and can 
 spare an hour. I may have a few pointers for 
 you." 
 
 "I will." 
 
 Gaunt's chauffeur was waiting in the vestibule 
 to pilot him unobtrusively to his machine; but 
 once he was ensconced, and the engine cranked, 
 they remained stationary. 
 
 "What's the matter, Saunders?" the detective 
 asked, through the tube. 
 
 "'Nother car and an undertaker's wagon blockin' 
 the way, sir." 
 
 An undertaker's wagon! The last act of the 
 tragedy of the night was about to be enacted for 
 Garret Appleton,_and the curtain rang down upon
 
 92 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 an unadmirable career. What a misspent life, 
 a waste of golden opportunities, culminating in 
 a hideous end! What Nemesis could have stamped 
 that look of blank fear and horror upon the dying 
 features? What had occurred in that dark hour, 
 before the shot was fired which so relentlessly 
 hurled him into eternity? 
 
 When Gaunt alighted at his own door, he said 
 to the chauffeur: 
 
 "Saunders, I sha'n't require the car tonight; but 
 I want you to do a bit of detective work for me 
 the sort of thing you've done before." 
 
 "Yes, sir!" Saunders replied, eagerly. 
 
 "Go to the Appleton's private garage. You 
 can easily find it. It's just around the corner, 
 I believe, from their house, from which you just 
 brought me. Scrape acquaintance with Mr. Yates 
 Appleton's chauffeur. If he isn't there, find out 
 where he lives, or where he may be found, if he's 
 idle tonight and I fancy he will be. Take him 
 out, if he'll go, and treat him, or give him any 
 story you please, but try to get out of him his 
 exact movements last night, and when he took 
 Mr. Appleton from the club, where they went, 
 and all that. Find out, also, if Mr. Yates Apple- 
 ton by any chance injured his hand while out in 
 the machine last night. Understand?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. Guess it will be easy, sir. I'll try, 
 anyway." 
 
 "Here's a ten-dollar bill for expenses. If it's
 
 "CAIN!" 93 
 
 any more, let me know; but get the truth if you 
 can, no matter what it costs." 
 
 "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.'* 
 
 Jenkins, Gaunt's man, fell upon him anxiously 
 at the door. 
 
 "Glad you've come, sir!" he exclaimed. "Miss 
 Barnes has been hoping you'd be back for three 
 hours, or more. Three telegrams and two long- 
 distance calls from Newport. Big jewel robbery 
 at the Fahnestock place! Shall I pack?" 
 
 "No, Jenkins. Can't take it," Gaunt replied, 
 laconically. " I'm on a case now, as you very well 
 know." 
 
 "I, sir?" inquired Jenkins, with an air of inno- 
 cence. "I remember a gentleman called this 
 morning, and you went out with him; but how 
 should I know you were on a case, sir?" 
 
 " Because you've got an evening paper in. your 
 hand at this moment. I can hear it rattle. And 
 it's the latest edition probably an extra not 
 the early-afternoon one we always take anyway; 
 for I can smell fresh ink upon it. You read of the 
 case, and my connection with it, in the afternoon 
 paper, and sent out and got another, later one. 
 You can't fool me, Jenkins." 
 
 As the detective turned toward the library, 
 Jenkins murmured after the departing figure: 
 
 "No, I'm blest if I can! You can see more with- 
 out eyes than most men can with 'em!
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE CUFF LINK 
 
 ISS BARNES, look back over the news- 
 paper files in the store-room, in the 
 society news of, say, three, four, five, 
 and six years ago, and read me whatever you find 
 relating to the Appleton family, at East Sixty- 
 eighth Street, will you?" 
 
 Gaunt was stretched out at ease in his own 
 familiar, favorite chair, pipe in mouth, and Scrap- 
 per, the bull-terrier, at his feet. He was thinking 
 over the evidence gathered during the day's in- 
 vestigation, sifting the wheat from the chaff, and 
 he found it no easy task. He had, in the course 
 of his career, become interested in many baffling 
 cases, but none that presented such complications, 
 such a multiplicity of possible motives and pos- 
 sible culprits. Yates Appleton, at war with his 
 brother over that which was to him the most 
 vital thing in life, money; the wife, maddened 
 by abuse and jealousy; the other girl, who had so 
 plainly betrayed her love for him. 
 
 The detective made no mistake in his analysis 
 of the situation that had existed between Doris 
 Carhart and Garret Appleton. Here was no vul- 
 gar intrigue. That he had been as much in love 
 
 94
 
 THE CUFF LINK 95- 
 
 with her as she so obviously with him, and that 
 the wife had stood between, was possible, even 
 probable. 
 
 But the girl was of a type readily recognized by 
 Gaunt, a type prevalent everywhere in America 
 at least; particularly so in New York society: 
 the flirt incarnate, the girl, who, in spirit half- 
 wanton, half-puritan, plays with fire, yet holds 
 herself rigidly aloof from the all-consuming flame. 
 It might be that she had been fascinated by the 
 malicious delight of a flirtation, with a married 
 man, carried on under his helpless wife's eyes, 
 careless of the suffering she caused, and had dis- 
 covered that in the process her own heart had been 
 singed, but no more. Perhaps she had hoped that 
 a divorce might be arranged, and she step into 
 Natalie's shoes; but the prospect of an heir had 
 precluded that. Perhaps who could tell, now? 
 he had tired of what was to him a purposeless 
 game, and had told her, on that momentous even- 
 ing, that they had come to the parting of their 
 ways. In any event, might she not have returned 
 stealthily for a final interview, previously arranged 
 between them, and, in a moment of madness, 
 slain him, determined that, since she could not 
 possess him before the world, no other woman 
 should? In that case, her horror and astonish- 
 ment of the morning had been consummately sim- 
 ulated, and her nerve and courage supreme. He 
 believed her capable of it; but it seemed scarcely
 
 96 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 credible that she could be capable of the crime 
 itself, and the practical difficulties in the way of 
 her clandestine departure from her own house 
 in the small hours of the morning, and a return 
 . unobserved to the Appleton mansion, seemed well- 
 nigh insurmountable. 
 
 "Young woman to see you, sir." Gaunt had 
 been so lost in thought that he had not heard 
 the approach of Jenkins. "Says she comes from 
 the Appleton house. She seems kind of upset- 
 like." 
 
 "Ask her to come up, please." The detective 
 rose hastily, and pushed Scrapper gently into an 
 inner room, closing the door upon him. A young 
 girl! The method of Jenkin's announcement sug- 
 gested one of the domestics. Could it be that, 
 in interviewing only the principals in the affair, 
 and the only two of the servants whose informa- 
 tion he had thought would be of most immediate 
 use to him, he had overlooked an important link 
 in the chain? 
 
 Jenkins returned, ushering in a pretty, red- 
 cheeked maid, whose blue eyes, although sullen 
 and frightened, glowed with determination. Jen- 
 kins eyed her in bold admiration; but with a toss of 
 her head she dismissed him from her interest, her 
 gaze fixed upon the tall figure before her, the thin, 
 ascetic face softened by a kindly smile, as if he 
 could see her standing there, trembling, but reso- 
 lute, in the doorway.
 
 THE CUFF LINK 97 
 
 "Who is it, please?" he asked quietly, as she 
 remained tongue-tied. 
 
 "Tis me, sor, Katie Gerahty. I'm house- 
 maid at the Appleton's 
 
 "Aye, yes. Come in, Katie. . . . Jenkins, that 
 will do. Now, Katie, what is it you wished to see 
 me about?" 
 
 "Twas me that found the the corpse, sor. 
 I've been expectin' all day long that you'd ask for 
 me; but you didn't, an', when I found you'd 
 gone, I thought I'd better come after you." 
 
 "I understand. I hadn't time to interview all 
 of you today, and I thought Inspector Hanrahan 
 had talked to you." 
 
 "Sure, he had, sor, an' a fine bully he is, too. 
 He'd get nothm' out of me, if I died for it, talkin* 
 to me as if I'd killed the poor master meself! I 
 found his body, sor but I found something else 
 beside, an' though I wouldn't give the Inspector 
 the satisfaction of gettin' it from me, I'm an honest 
 girl, an' I don't keep nothin' that don't belong to 
 me." 
 
 "And what was it that you found, Katie? You 
 did right to bring it to me." Gaunt with difficulty 
 restrained his eagerness. 
 
 "This, sor." She approached, and placed in 
 his outstretched hand a small, golden object. His 
 fingers closed quickly over it, and he felt it all over 
 with minute care. 
 
 It was a man's gold cuff-link, of the sort that are
 
 98 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 sometimes given to ushers at weddings, save that 
 the initials on one side, and the date on the other, 
 instead of being cut in, were raised, and of a plain 
 block design. The detective's delicate, sure finger- 
 tips spelled out for him the figures, 1911, and on 
 the other side the letters, Y. A. 
 [_ "And where did you find this, Katie?" 
 
 "In the den, sor, right by the door, when I 
 first went in. Like enough it had rolled or been 
 dropped there." 
 
 "How did you happen to notice it, with Mr. 
 Appleton sitting there dead before you?" 
 
 "Well, you see, sor, it was kinder dark in the den 
 when I opened the door only the one window 
 open and the shade up and the side curtains half- 
 hiding that. I wasn't what you might call waked 
 up for the day, either, and, when I seen Mr. Apple- 
 ton sittin' there in his chair, I thought he was 
 sleeping. 'Twouldn't be the first time that I'd 
 come down, savin' your presence, and found him 
 stupid drunk there from the night before. Then 
 I seen something shinin' at my feet, an* I picked 
 it up, and afterward went clost to Mr. Appleton 
 to wake him if I could and there was that bloody 
 splash on his shirt-front, and the awful dead face 
 of him starin' up at me. I screeched then, sor. 
 In th' excitement after, I forgot all about the cuff- 
 button that I dropped in me apron-pocket, until 
 that Inspector began asking rne ugly questions 
 in the way of him, and sure I just wouldn't let on
 
 THE CUFF LINK 99 
 
 about it. I was afraid after to give it to one of 
 the family; so I thought I'd better bring it to you." 
 
 "Very well, Katie. I will see that it reaches 
 the owner." Then, as the girl seemed to hesitate, 
 he asked: "Is there anything more you wanted 
 to tell me?" 
 
 "Yes, sor. 'Tis about that French thing that 
 maid, Marie. Before you come this mornin', 
 she slipped away from the crowd of us around 
 the door of the den, and I well, I followed her. 
 She had a funny look on her face, and well, to 
 tell you the truth, sor, she's no friend of mine. 
 We had a difference about a young man but 
 that's neither here nor there. When I come up 
 with her, she was usin' the telephone in the back 
 hall. I heard her say, 'It is true, mamselle, he 
 is dead murdered! I thought that you would 
 wish to know privately, so as to be prepared for 
 the shock when the news reaches your house.' 
 Then she hanged up the receiver with a bang." 
 
 "To whom do you think she was speaking, 
 Katie? Have you any idea?" The detective 
 paused and then, as the girl made no answer, he 
 added: "To Miss Doris Carhart, by any chance?" 
 
 "How did you know, sor?" The girl's surprised 
 exclamation was involuntary; but she went on 
 hastily: "Of course, I have no proof, but well, 
 you know how servants sometimes- sees more than 
 they're supposed to. I have been thinkin' for a 
 long time that there was some carryings-on between
 
 100 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 Mr. Appleton and the Judge's daughter, and that 
 this Marie was kinder helping them out. 'Twas 
 just a suspicion of mine, an' I'm not paid to carry 
 no tales." 
 
 "I understand, Katie. I won't quote you. 
 You are a very bright girl, and you have helped me 
 a lot. If you see anything going on that you think 
 I ought to know, come to me, here. I'll make it 
 worth your while. . . . By the way, Katie, why 
 don't you wear glasses? You're very near-sighted, 
 and you should have it corrected. You don't 
 want to become like me, you know," he added, 
 with a smile. 
 
 "My eyes do De troublin* me a lot, sir. I don't 
 see how you know about that!" Her round eyes 
 grew wider as she spoke. 
 
 "Your ankles are weak, too. You should wear 
 stouter shoes," he commented. "You stumble 
 a little, and you are a little uncertain in your walk, 
 also, although you are not heavy-footed. You 
 take very short steps, and plant your heel down 
 first. That shows you are near-sighted, and afraid 
 to strike out, because of turning your ankle and 
 t falling." 
 
 "Well, sor, it beats all how you knew; but it's 
 true!" Katie backed away toward the door as she 
 spoke, and felt desperately behind her for the 
 knob. She desired above all things to get away 
 from this uncanny presence. "I I'll come again, 
 sor, if I hear anything more!" And she departed.
 
 THE CUFF LINK 101 
 
 After the girl had gone, Gaunt sat for some 
 moments turning the cuff-button over and over in 
 his hands. Out of the seemingly hopeless array of 
 conflicting evidence, some facts began to dove- 
 tail magically, and to suggest an almost impossible 
 hypothesis, from which the detective, accustomed 
 as he was to studies of the darker side of human 
 nature, shrank. 
 
 The reappearance of Miss Barnes put an end to 
 his reflections for the time being. 
 
 "I have found several references, Mr. Gaunt," 
 she said, "in the society news of five and six years 
 ago to the Appleton family; but they are merely 
 announcements of receptions, dinners, dances, and 
 so forth, although you may wish me to read you 
 the lists of the guests. But four years ago 
 four years last April, to be exact there is the 
 announcement of the engagement between Mr. 
 Garret Appleton and Miss Doris Carhart, daughter 
 of Judge Anthony Carhart, of the Supreme Court. 
 Three months later, in July of the same year, there 
 is an announcement of the breaking of that en- 
 gagement." 
 
 "That was something I had not looked for," 
 Gaunt murmured to himself. Then aloud: "Go 
 on, please, Miss Barnes." 
 
 "I thought you might like me to look up, also, 
 while I was among these old files, any articles I 
 might find referring to the Carharts." 
 
 The detective smiled in grateful appreciation.
 
 102 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 "I find that in October of the previous year 
 five years ago Miss Carhart made her debut, and 
 in December of that year she was bridesmaid at 
 the Lancaster-Dubois wedding. All other refer- 
 ences are practically the same as those relating to 
 the Appleton family invitations to social affairs 
 at their house, or appearances at the opera. In 
 November, four months after the breaking of the 
 engagement with Miss Carhart, comes the announce- 
 ment of Mr. Appleton's engagement to Miss 
 Natalie Ellerslie, of Louisville, Kentucky, and. 
 in the following March, that of their marriage, 
 All the later references to them which I have been 
 able to discover are merely those of social affairs, 
 and among the guests listed Miss Carhart's name 
 and Judge Carhart's appear almost invariably." 
 
 "Thank you very much, Miss Barnes, and now 
 what time is it please?" 
 
 As if in answer, six silvery notes sounded from the 
 bronze clock on the mantel, and Gaunt, taking 
 up the telephone receiver, called up the Bryant 
 Chambers, and asked for Mr. Maurice Livingston. 
 
 "This is Mr. Livingston. Who is it, please?" 
 came in a hearty, good-natured voice over the 
 wire. 
 
 "Mr. Gaunt is speaking Mr. Damon Gaunt. 
 You have, no doubt, Mr. Livingston, heard of the 
 sudden death of Mr. Garret Appleton. I have 
 been retained by the family to investigate matters 
 for them. In the course of my work, I have inter-
 
 THE CUFF LINK 103 
 
 viewed Mr. Yates Appleton, and, as a mere matter 
 of form, I should like to see you, if you can spare 
 me a few moments, to corroborate some of his 
 statements." 
 
 "If you can come at once, Mr. Gaunt, I shall 
 be glad to give you any assistance in my power. 
 I have a dinner engagement at seven o'clock." 
 
 "I can be with you in ten minutes, Mr. Liv- 
 ingston." 
 
 "Very good." 
 
 The receiver clicked, and Gaunt summoned 
 Jenkins for his hat and coat, and to call a taxi- 
 cab. Jenkins, too, accompanied him to Bryant 
 Chambers, and, under the guidance of the hall- 
 boy, conducted him to the door of Mr. Livingston's 
 apartment, after which he returned to the cab, 
 to wait. 
 
 The detective was admitted by a haughty English 
 valet, and conducted to the living-room. After 
 a few moments' delay, he heard a brisk, buoyant 
 step, and the voice that had replied to him over 
 the telephone sounded in his ears." 
 
 "Sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr. Gaunt; 
 but I was dressing. Terrible thing that about 
 poor Garret. Yates must be completely knocked 
 out." 
 
 Gaunt turned in the direction of the voice, and 
 his foot inadvertently touched the projecting claw 
 foot of the table. 
 
 "I don't see why Parker didn't turn the rest of
 
 104 ATV ONE-THIRTY 
 
 the lights on," his host exclaimed irritably, as 
 he pressed the button in the wall. 
 
 "The lights make no difference to me, Mr. 
 Livingston. I am blind." 
 
 "You oh, I see! I beg your pardon. Why, 
 I have heard of you, of course. You were the 
 man who worked out those famous Delamater 
 murders. By Jove! Sit down, Mr. Gaunt, and 
 tell me what I can do for you. Will you 
 have a cigar? These are of Porto Rican tobacco, 
 made for me." 
 
 "Thank you. But, Mr. Livingston, your cigar- 
 maker must have been mistaken in his blend. 
 These are the shape and size of Porto Ricos, but 
 the tobacco is Havana." 
 
 "Is it? By Jove! I ordered Porto Ricos." 
 
 "Can't you tell the difference?" asked the 
 detective, with a smile. 
 
 "Not unless they are lighted, and not always 
 then. I thought I was something of a connois- 
 seur of tobacco; but you have me beaten. They're 
 identical in color." 
 
 "Some growths are; but the odor is unmistakable, 
 if your nose is trained to distinguish the difference. 
 Then, too, feel the shape of the leaf, even as tightly 
 rolled as these are. They are undoubtedly Ha- 
 vana. But I did not come to take up your time 
 by an idle discussion concerning tobacco. I came 
 for some information which only you can give 
 me."
 
 THE CUFF LINK 105 
 
 "You wanted to ask me something about Yates 
 Appleton, didn't you?" 
 
 "Yes, I wanted to know what time he got to your 
 rooms, last night. About one o'clock?" 
 | "Just about I could not say exactly. I had 
 been to the theater and supper, and was just 
 thinking of turning in when he appeared." 
 
 "Nice state he must have been in, too," the 
 detective remarked, with studied carelessness;; 
 "with one cuff flying open." 
 
 "Yes!" laughed Mr. Livingston, with the hearty 
 stomach laugh of % a fat man. "I had to lend him 
 a pair of cuff-buttons. He seemed awfully worked 
 up and excited; but then he was a bit well, you 
 know." 
 
 "Yes," Gaunt smiled, "I know. . . . You have 
 known Mr. Yates Appleton long, Mr. Living- 
 ston?" 
 
 "Known him and his brother all my life," the 
 other returned. "This shock may pull Yates up 
 and steady him. It's a frightful affair. Garret 
 Appleton was shot by a burglar during the night, 
 wasn't he?" 
 
 "That is the case as it stands now," replied the 
 detective. "You cannot give me any more definite 
 information as to the time Mr. Yates Appleton 
 called on you last night, can you?" 
 
 "Sorry, I can't. My man had gone to bed, and 
 I was well, to tell you the truth, Mr. Gaunt, I 
 was a little foggy myself."
 
 106 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 Gaunt laughed. 
 
 "All right, Mr. Livingston; I quite understand. 
 I won't detain you any longer. Thank you for 
 allowing me to intrude upon you in this way." 
 
 "Oh, it was no intrusion at all, I assure you. 
 I'll be only too glad to help in any way I can. Call 
 on me any time you like." 
 
 On the way back to his rooms, in the taxi, Gaunt 
 mused over the information he had just received. 
 Yates Appleton's friend had, indeed, corroborated 
 the statement, although in so vague a fashion, 
 as to the time of the call upon him; but, on the 
 other hand, he had all unwittingly corroborated 
 the damning evidence of the little link of gold 
 the link in the disconnected chain of events which 
 proved that some time during the evening Yates 
 had returned to his home, had been in the room 
 where a few hours later his brother was found 
 done to death. If the testimony of the attendants 
 at the club should show that Yates Appleton really 
 left there at about midnight, as he had said, it 
 would leave a rather close margin of time for him 
 to have gone home, held an interview of what- 
 ever nature with his brother, and arrived at the 
 rooms of Maurice Livingston by one. A great deal 
 depended now upon Saunders' success in obtain- 
 ing information from the Appleton chauffeur as 
 to where he had driven the car from the time 
 of leaving the club to the arrival at Bryant Cham- 
 bers.
 
 THE CUFF LINK 107 
 
 His simple dinner over, the detective sat in his 
 library, waiting the promised visit of Inspector 
 Hanrahan with ill-concealed impatience. One 
 problem of the morning kept recurring to his mind : 
 Mrs. Finlay Appleton must have thought her 
 younger son guilty of the murder, else she would 
 not have turned from the body of Garret with 
 the cry of, "Cain!" upon her lips. Yet, why, 
 in that case, had she proceeded immediately to 
 obtain the services of a detective of wide repute, 
 to investigate the murder and discover the cul- 
 prit? 
 
 But stay! Had he been retained to discover 
 the truth, or, as Yates had informed him, to pre- 
 vent as much of the police interference as possible? 
 Would Mrs. Finlay Appleton or her son later 
 approach him in an attempt to influence him by 
 a bribe, or otherwise to cloak the true facts of the 
 case in their interest? 
 
 The inspector arrived about nine. 
 
 "Mr. Yates Appleton left the club about ten 
 minutes of twelve, Mr. Gaunt. The carriage- 
 starter says so, and the coat-room boy confirms 
 him, because Mr. Appleton particularly asked 
 him the time. . . . Got anything new, sir? There 
 is nothing in that Louis Lantelme theory. The 
 man's alibi proved to be complete." 
 
 "Did you get any more out of Dakers, the 
 butler?" the detective asked, after a pause. 
 
 "No, sir."
 
 108 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 Something in the detective's face made the 
 burly Inspector lean forward suddenly, his hands 
 on his knees. 
 
 "What do you mean, sir? What do you think?" 
 
 "Watch him!"
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THIRTY PIECES OF SILVER 
 
 lAUNDERS, the chauffeur, presented him- 
 self bright and early the following morning; 
 but his ruffied manner was expressive of 
 defeat. 
 
 "Sorry, sir," he commenced. "I found your 
 man all right Mr. Appleton's chauffeur. I spent 
 your ten and another five no man who drinks 
 like that has any right to run a car. But I 
 couldn't get a thing out of him of much account, 
 except that nothing happened to Mr. Appleton's 
 hand that he knew anything about. He left the 
 club a little before twelve, drove round town for 
 awhile, and then to Bryant Chambers. There 
 they picked up a friend of Mr. Appleton's, and went 
 on around town for a couple of hours, stopping 
 at two or three all-night cafes. At about three 
 o'clock in the morning, the chauffeur took both the 
 young gentlemen home. That's all I could find 
 out, sir; but 
 
 "But, what Saunders?" 
 
 "Well, sir, it looked to me like the fellow wasn't 
 telling me the truth, altogether. He hemmed and 
 hawed, and had kind of a sly way with him when 
 he was talking, though he talked quick enough. 
 
 109
 
 110 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 I had a kind of an idea that he was onto me 
 that he knew I was trying to get something out 
 of him." 
 
 "Very well, Saunders. You have done the best 
 you could. 
 
 "Here is the extra money you have spent, and 
 another five for yourself. Got the car waiting 
 outside?" 
 
 "Yes, sir thank you, sir." 
 
 "Then I think I will have you take me up to 
 the Appleton house. There is something I over- 
 looked yesterday " 
 
 But Gaunt got no further. As he turned to press 
 the button in the wall to summon Jenkins, that 
 indefatigable person appeared in the door, and his 
 apologetic cough held a slightly perturbed note. 
 
 "Excuse me, Mr. Gaunt. There's a man down- 
 stairs who wants to see you. He's very per- 
 sistent, sir. Says his name's Dakers." 
 
 "Very well, Jenkins. Hold him below for two 
 or three minutes, until Saunders gets out. . . . 
 Saunders," he turned to where the chauffeur 
 stood fingering his cap, beside the table, "go 
 down and wait in the car. I sha'n't be long. I've 
 changed my mind about going to the Appleton 
 house; but I shall want you to take me somewhere 
 else, immediately." 
 
 "Very good, sir. I'll be cranked up, waiting." 
 
 Dakers! The suave, servile butler of the Apple- 
 tons! The man whom Inspector Hanrahan felt
 
 THIRTY PIECES OF SILVER HI 
 
 sure had "something up his sleeve"! Had he 
 discovered some facts which he felt to be of im- 
 portance, in the hours that had elapsed since the 
 detective had interviewed him the previous day; 
 or had he, for some purpose of his own, withheld 
 certain knowledge in his possession, until he felt 
 it to be no longer politic, or even safe, to do so? 
 
 In a few moments, Jenkins' step could be heard 
 approaching, accompanied by the stealthy, cat- 
 like tread that Gaunt remembered from the day 
 before, and Dakers stood before him. 
 
 The detective did not speak until his man had 
 retired, and then he took a bold lead: 
 
 "Well, Dakers," he said, quietly, "you've de- 
 cided to make a clean breast of it, have you? Sit 
 down, and be sure this time that you tell me the 
 truth." 
 
 "It was the truth that I told you yesterday, 
 sir, I assure you, sir, only only, it wasn't all the 
 truth. There was something about the night 
 before, sir, that I I didn't mention." 
 
 "I thought not. Well, go on out with it!" 
 
 "It was all just as I told you, sir. I attended 
 to my usual duties, putting away the silver after 
 dinner, serving refreshments to the family during 
 the evening, placing the decanter and glasses in 
 the den, opening the door for Judge Carhart and 
 Miss Carhart when they left, and then locking 
 up the house. I went to bed. But I couldn't 
 sleep, and I got up after a bit, and came down-
 
 112 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 stairs again to get a a little something for my- 
 self, sir." 
 
 "A drink whisky?" 
 
 "A a little brandy, sir. I was very much sur- 
 prised when I came near the den, to hear voices- 
 loud, angry voices. I thought at first Mr. Garret 
 was talking to himself. He does, sometimes, when 
 he's alone, in the night like that, sir. But then I 
 heard two voices, and I I recognized the second 
 
 one." 
 
 The man paused, his voice trembling huskily. 
 
 "Who was it?" the detective asked, sternly. 
 
 "Mr. Mr. Yates, sir." 
 
 "What was he saying?" 
 
 "I couldn't repeat the exact words, sir; but they 
 were having an argument a quarrel. Mr. Yates 
 wanted some money from his brother, quite a lot 
 of money. He kept repeating that he had to have 
 it at once. I think he called it 'a debt of honor,' 
 or something like that. He mentioned a card game 
 at the club, I think but I wasn't what you might 
 call listening, sir. I wouldn't so far forget myself. 
 The door of the den was open, and I was just 
 outside in the hall, waiting for a chance to slip 
 past and out to the butler's pantry. Mr. Garret 
 had begun his night's drinking, and he was in an 
 extra ugly mood, sir, sneering at Mr. Yates, and 
 taunting him, and working him up, until at last 
 
 "Go on." 
 
 "There was a snarl from Mr. Yates, and then
 
 THIRTY PIECES OF SILVER US 
 
 the the sound of a blow. I didn't see it, of course, 
 sir; but it must have been Mr. Yates who struck, 
 because there was a regular bellow of rage from 
 Mr. Garret, and then he ordered his brother out 
 of the house." 
 
 "Did he go at once?" 
 
 "I don't know, sir. I didn't wait to see; I 
 didn't want to hear any more. I turned and 
 went back to my room as quick as I could, for 
 fear they'd come out and find me." 
 
 "Did you hear anything after that, anything 
 that sounded like a shot, for instance?" 
 
 "No, sir, nothing. My room is at the very top 
 of the house, and I shut my door tight, and went 
 back to bed. And that's all I know. That was 
 everything I heard until Katie screamed, in the 
 early morning, and I rushed down to find Mr. 
 Garret dead in his chair." 
 
 "At what time did you leave your bed, Dakers, 
 and go down-stairs for the brandy?" 
 
 "At a little after twelve, sir." 
 
 "And how long did you remain standing outside 
 the door of the den? How long before the blow 
 was struck, and Mr. Yates Appleton was ordered 
 from the house?" 
 
 "I couldn't rightly say, sir. Not more than ten 
 or fifteen minutes, at the longest; for, when I got 
 back to my room, it was half-past twelve by my 
 clock." 
 
 "Are you sure? What made you look to see?"
 
 114 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 The questions came like a rapid-fire shot; but the 
 butler was ready for them. 
 
 "I knew Miss Ellerslie would be home soon from 
 the wedding-reception, and I wondered if she 
 would hear them quarreling, sir, or if Mr. Yates 
 would go to his rooms, or take himself out of the 
 house again before she came." 
 
 "H'm! Why did you come to me today and 
 tell me this? Why didn't you tell me yesterday?" 
 
 The butler hesitated a fraction of a second too 
 long. 
 
 "Well, sir, I I've been with the family too 
 long. It didn't seem fair to give any of them 
 away like that although I don't owe Mr. Yates 
 Appleton anything!" The note of resentment 
 that crept into his voice at the last words was un- 
 mistakable, and illuminating. " He's never done 
 me a good turn in his life. But I was afraid, if 
 the police, or you, sir, found out that he'd come 
 back and quarreled with his brother in the night, 
 they might think he'd he'd killed him, sir, espe- 
 cially as he'd struck him." 
 
 "And what made you change your mind, 
 Dakers?" 
 
 "Well, after I'd thought it all over, it didn't 
 seem right to keep anything back like interfer- 
 ing in the course of justice, sir." 
 
 "I understand what you mean, Dakers. But 
 why didn't you go to Mrs. Appleton the elder 
 Mrs. Appleton?"
 
 THIRTY PIECES OF SILVEB 115 
 
 "What, sir? I don't quite see, sir!" The 
 butler's suave tones were blended with a note of 
 amazement and alarm. 
 
 Gaunt smiled quietly to himself. 
 
 "When Mr. Yates Appleton refused to pay you 
 for your silence, why didn't you go to his mother? 
 You won't get anything out of it by coming to me, 
 you know, and Mrs. Appleton would have paid 
 you well." 
 
 The butler cringed suddenly. 
 
 "I don't know how you knew it, sir; but it's 
 true. After all, it wasn't anything to be ashamed 
 of, sir. I'm a poor man, and what I knew was 
 worth money. But Mr. Yates wouldn't bargain 
 with me. Just flew in a rage, and used dreadful 
 language, and ordered me out when I called to 
 see him last evening. I did try to see Mrs. Apple- 
 ton; but she sent down word that she was indis- 
 posed, and wouldn't receive anyone. I don't 
 think the little note I sent up to her at the 
 Blenheim Hotel last evening was ever delivered 
 to her, though, or she would have seen me right 
 enough. I couldn't get admitted to her this 
 morning either, and I knew it was no good trying 
 Mr. Yates again. I was afraid, too, that you, or 
 the Inspector, might find out any minute what I 
 knew, and I thought I'd better come and tell you. 
 I've got to think of my character, sir." 
 
 "Well, you've thought of it rather late, Dakers. 
 Do you realize that, if anything comes of this.
 
 116 AT ONE-THIKTY 
 
 you may be subpoenaed to appear in court and 
 testify, and, when it comes out that you've delib- 
 erately kept this evidence back in order to try to 
 get money from the family for your silence, you 
 may be arrested for attempted blackmail?" 
 
 "Blackmail!" the man fairly shrieked. "Oh, 
 sir, no not that! My character would be ruined, 
 sir! I shouldn't be able to get another place, and 
 I've worked faithfully, all my life, for the very 
 best people. I didn't intend it as blackmail, sir 
 indeed, indeed, I didn't! It was only a a 
 favor, like, to the family, and they could well afford 
 to pay for it. I never thought of blackmailing 
 anybody never ! " 
 
 "Well, considering that you came to me, anp 
 told me, of your own free will, Dakers, I'll see what 
 I can do for you. But mind you keep this quiet, 
 without a word to anyone, and hold yourself in 
 readiness to testify whenever I want you." 
 
 "Yes, sir, of course; anything you say, sir. I'm 
 sure I'm perfectly willing to do whatever you 
 say!" At his dismissal, the frightened little man 
 scurried out, as if only too glad to escape from the 
 dreaded presence of the detective. 
 
 Gaunt wasted no time, but, summoning Jenkins 
 for his hat and coat, descended to the car. 
 
 "The Calthorp, Saunders, and look sharp." 
 
 The air was crisp and searchingly cold, in the 
 first keen frost of early autumn, and the swift rush 
 of sharp wind seemed to clear Gaunt's thoughts, and
 
 THIRTY PIECES OF SILVER 117 
 
 send his blood racing through his veins. The task 
 before him was a difficult one. Although it 
 seemed that the case, on the face of it, was all 
 but cleared up, and the mystery of Garret Apple- 
 ton's death solved, there were several points still 
 lost in obscurity, points of glaring significance. 
 It was evident that the butler had told all he knew. 
 Gaunt had so thoroughly frightened him by the 
 threat of punishment for attempted blackmail 
 that he would eagerly have disclosed anything 
 further of which he might have been cognizant, 
 to ingratiate himself with the detective, and thus 
 possibly save his own skin. It seemed incon- 
 ceivable that he, lying awake and probably on the 
 qui vive for any further sounds of strife and dis- 
 cension from below, in spite of the fact that his 
 room was at the top of the house and his door 
 closed, would not have heard the revolver shot, 
 had Garret Appleton's life been ended during the 
 ensuing moments of his quarrel with his brother. 
 More than that, Yates knew that Barbara Ellerslie 
 might return at any moment, and walk in upon the 
 scene of the tragedy, unless in the heat of his rage 
 and passion this had passed quite from his mind. 
 
 But, if he had killed his brother, would he have 
 walked out of the house, leaving the traces of his 
 crime for any casual discovery, only to return 
 hours later, and attempt, as well as he could, to 
 change the scene to represent the murder as the 
 outcome of a burglary? It seemed unthinkable,
 
 118 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 as, by the testimony of his own friend, he had 
 left in a far more intoxicated condition than when 
 he had come to him, at approximately one o'clock, 
 directly after the quarrel. And if he had been in a 
 sufficiently clear-headed condition to 1 ave attempted 
 to cover the traces of his crime, would he not have 
 remembered the damning bit of evidence left 
 behind earlier in the night the cuff-link, which, 
 the housemaid had stated, lay in plain view before 
 the door of the den ? 
 
 If not he, then who in that household would have 
 attempted to change the appearance of the room 
 in which the dead man sat? Who would have had 
 the necessary strength of character and nerve to 
 have conceived such a plan, and have carried it 
 to fruition? Only two, from Gaunt's observations, 
 and both of these were women. Barbara Ellerslie 
 would have been capable of it; but the only motive 
 strong enough to impel her to such an act would 
 have been her conviction that her little sister was 
 guilty. That was a matter which might still 
 remain to be looked into. If, on the other hand, 
 the elder Mrs. Appleton had chanced to enter the 
 room of death in the early hours of the morning, 
 she would have had the strongest motive in the 
 world for attempting to conceal the true state 
 of affairs. Her denunciatory cry of "Cain!" when 
 she stood beside her dead son's body proved that, 
 momentarily at least, she had thought Yates 
 guilty of his brother's murder. Yet, she had
 
 THIRTY PIECES OF SILVER 119 
 
 proceeded to send at once for the detective with 
 the biggest reputation of his time. Gaunt found 
 himself back at the same point of reasoning as on 
 the previous day. 
 
 They reached the Calthorp, an ornate and im- 
 posing bachelor apartment, a stone's-throw from 
 the avenue, and Saunders guided him to the 
 apartment that Yates Appleton had arranged to 
 take on the previous day. 
 
 [ "I think Mr. Appleton is in; but I doubt if he'll 
 see you," the clerk at the desk had informed them. 
 "He's been saying he's out to everyone who's 
 called; but he hasn't 'phoned down any orders 
 to us about it, so I guess you can go right up." 
 
 "Oh, he will see me, I'm sure," Gaunt replied 
 easily, with an engaging smile, and stepped into the 
 elevator. 
 
 As they pressed the bell at the door of the apart- 
 ment, they distinctly heard a hurrying about within 
 and a hasty snapping sound, as of the lids of 
 trunks or suit-cases being hurriedly closed. Then, 
 after a little, James appeared at the door. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Gaunt!" he said. "It's too bad, sir! 
 I suppose you wanted to see Mr. Appleton? He's 
 gone away." 
 
 "Surely he hasn't gone yet," returned the de- 
 tective, stepping resolutely into the hall of the 
 apartment. Saunders waited rather uncertainly 
 outside. "You haven't finished repacking yet." 
 
 "No, sir. I I'm to follow him, sir."
 
 120 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 "Where is Mr. Appleton going, James?*' 
 
 "I d-don't know, sir." The man was plainly 
 agitated. "He's to let me know where to go to 
 him, and when." 
 
 "It's very strange that he should go away like 
 this," Gaunt remarked. "I do not think he 
 intended it yesterday, else you would not have 
 unpacked, and now be repacking again." 
 
 "No. He he decided quite suddenly, sir." The 
 man seemed anxious, far too anxious, for the de- 
 tective's departure. He added desperately, still 
 holding the door open: "I'll tell him when I see 
 him, sir, that you called." 
 
 "I'm quite sure he hasn't left the city yet." 
 Gaunt's tone was still bland; but there was an 
 under-note of finality that increased the valet's 
 perturbation. "He will probably return for a 
 few moments at least, or telephone to you. I 
 think I will wait." 
 
 "It won't be the slightest use, sir ' the man 
 began hastily. 
 
 But Gaunt interrupted him sternly. 
 
 "I will wait." 
 
 "I'm very sorry, sir," James burst out, at last; 
 "but I have strict orders from Mr. Appleton to 
 admit no one, and I must obey him, sir." 
 
 "I am the detective employed in this case," 
 the other thundered, "and I will remain here 
 until Mr. Appleton returns! I shall go to Mrs. 
 Finlay Appleton, or to the police, if necessary,
 
 TH1KTY PIECES OF SILVER 121 
 
 to enforce my demand. You are making things 
 look very black for your master by behaving in 
 this manner, James!" 
 
 "I I was only trying to carry out his orders, 
 sir/* the valet faltered. "I'm sure I'm very sorry, 
 sir. I don't suppose he meant them for you 
 he didn't have an idea that you were coming." 
 
 James closed the front door, shutting out the 
 faithful Saunders, and led the way into the li- 
 brary. 
 
 The detective seated himself, and asked, turn- 
 ing his head from side to side as if glancing about 
 him. 
 
 "Who else is in this apartment, James?" 
 
 "Here, sir?" the valet started nervously. "Why, 
 no one, sir." 
 
 "I distinctly smell tobacco smoke," Gaunt 
 remarked, very quietly. 
 
 There was a pause, and then James affirmed in 
 a faint voice, as if the words were fairly dragged 
 from him. 
 
 "It was me, sir." 
 
 "You? Does Mr. Appleton permit you to smoke 
 in his rooms?" 
 
 "Why why, no, sir, of course not! But 
 but in his absence " 
 
 "I understand. Very reprehensible of you, 
 James, very! And what was it you were smoking 
 in Mr. Appleton's absence?" 
 
 "A a cigar, sir."
 
 122 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 "One of your master's?" 
 
 "No, sir. Mr. Appleton smokes cigarettes 
 only." 
 
 "Then where did you get it, James?" 
 
 "I I I found it, sir," the valet blurted out. 
 
 "Where?" the question fell crisply from Gaunt's 
 lips. 
 
 "Here, sir. The the gentlemen who had these 
 rooms before must have left it behind." 
 
 The detective smiled. 
 
 "Very well, James. I won't keep you any longer 
 from your task. I will wait here, however, until 
 we hear from Mr. Appleton." 
 
 And Gaunt waited. An hour passed, then two 
 and three, and still he sat there patiently, while 
 the valet finished his packing, and then hung 
 nervously about, and the silence seemed to deepen 
 so that the street-sounds were carried up to them 
 with startling distinctness. 
 
 At length, the house telephone in the hall rang 
 sharply, and, with an exclamation that sounded 
 very much like one of relief, James hurried to it, 
 with Gaunt at his heels. The hall was narrow, 
 and the telephone hung on the wall, facing a closed 
 door. As the detective paused just back of the 
 valet at the instrument, he heard a slight, al- 
 most indistinguishable sound in the room behind 
 him, which caused him to take a cautious step or 
 two backward. 
 
 "Yes, sir," the valet was saying eagerly. "Is
 
 THIRTY PIECES OF SILVER 123 
 
 that you, sir? Mr. Gaunt has been here a long 
 time, waiting to see you. I told him you'd gone 
 out of town; but he was sure you'd return, or tele- 
 phone. What, sir? At his own rooms in an hour? 
 Very good, sir; I'll tell him." The receiver clicked, 
 and the valet turned hastily. 
 
 "It was Mr. Appleton, sir. I don't know where 
 he is he didn't say but he hasn't left the city 
 yet, sir, as you thought. He told me to say that 
 he will call at your rooms in an hour, sir, to see 
 you." 
 
 For answer, Gaunt turned and hurled himself 
 at the closed door behind him. It yielded, and 
 precipitated him within, and he sprang in the 
 direction of a startled, quickly smoothered curse 
 that assailed his ears. 
 
 "Oh, no, Mr. Appleton!" he said. "I won't 
 trouble you to come to my rooms. We'll have 
 our little talk here and now. I thought your 
 man was lying from the start; but I was sure of 
 it when he said he had been smoking a cigar. The 
 tobacco odor I noticed was that of a cigarette. 
 That was a very ingenious scheme of yours, to call 
 up your valet on the house 'phone, from your 
 own private wire here in your room; but I heard 
 your voice, and the click of the receiver, through 
 the closed door. Now, we will come to an under- 
 standing!"
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 IN THE WATCHES OF THE NIGHT 
 
 'ELL, you've ^ot me, Gaunt!" the young- 
 er man said, sullenly. "I told James 
 to say that I was out, because I didn't 
 want to be annoyed any more. I'm in a terrible 
 state over this whole affair, I tell you terrible! 
 I'll go crazy if I have to talk it over any more! 
 That's the only reason why I didn't want to see 
 you, or anyone. You didn't think I was afraid 
 of you, did you?" he added, in sudden bluster. 
 "I've got nothing to hide!" 
 
 "I'm very glad to hear you say so, Mr. Apple- 
 ton,"_ returned the detective. "Perhaps, in that 
 case, you'll tell me a few things I want to know." 
 
 "I told you yesterday " the young man began 
 to protest. 
 
 But Gaunt cut him short. 
 
 "I want to know some of the things you did not 
 tell me yesterday. But, first of all, I want to re- 
 turn this to you." 
 
 He held out the little gold cuff-link. Yates 
 Appleton drew back, his eyes fixed upon the out- 
 stretched hand of the other in a sort of horror. 
 
 "I I don't" he began, huskily. "What is 
 it? I never saw " 
 
 124
 
 IN THE WATCHES OF THE NIGHT 125 
 
 "Oh, yes, you did/' returned the detective. 
 "It is your gold cuff-link, which you lost night 
 before last. Don't you remember? When you 
 reached your friend's rooms, Maurice Livingston's, 
 from the club, he lent you a pair. He told me last 
 night that he had done so." 
 
 "Why yes," the younger man, admitted, in 
 a tone of relief. "I had forgotten. That is mine, 
 of course. Where was it found, Mr. Gaunt? At 
 the club, or in the motor?" 
 
 "In neither place." The detective's tone was 
 grave and stern. "It was found on the floor of 
 the den, where it had rolled during your quarrel 
 with your brother. It was loosened, probably, 
 when you struck him that blow over the heart." 
 
 There was a tense silence for a moment, and then 
 the young man, with a shuddering sob, buried his 
 face in his hands. 
 
 "My God!" he moaned. "My God!" 
 
 "You bribed your chauffeur: why didn't you 
 bribe the butler?" persisted Gaunt. "You should 
 not have turned on him last night, and thrown 
 him out of }^our rooms. It was dangerous, you 
 see. Fie knew too much of what had gone on the 
 night before." 
 
 "I couldn't! I didn't have the money," Yates 
 Appleton muttered. "I promised the chauffeur 
 a hundred not to say he'd taken me home from the 
 club; but that cursed Dakers wanted a thousand 
 down, and more to follow. He'd never have done
 
 126 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 bleeding me, and, anyway, I didn't think he'd 
 give it away so soon. I thought he'd wait and try- 
 again to get money out of me. It's all true, Mr. 
 Gaunt! I did go home and quarrel with Garret, 
 and and strike him. But I didn't kill him! 
 I swear to you, I didn't! I left him alive and as 
 well as ever he was in his life!'* 
 
 "Then suppose you tell me the whole truth," 
 suggested Gaunt. "You see, I know all about 
 your movements that night, and it's going to look 
 very bad for you, if you don't tell everything 
 now, frankly and honestly." 
 
 "I will, Mr. Gaunt! I'm only too glad to, and 
 I want nothing so much as to have you find out 
 who killed Garret!" the younger man returned, 
 eagerly. "Only, I don't want you to make any 
 mistake, and get after me. I'm innocent; but 
 I know things look pretty black against me, and 
 men have been convicted on circumstantial evi- 
 dence long before this. There was bad blood 
 between my brother and me, as a lot of people 
 were aware, and, although the chauffeur knew 
 I'd gone home for awhile, about midnight, I hadn't 
 any idea, until last night, that the butler had seen 
 or heard me. I suppose I should have been more 
 politic with him; but I was unnerved by by 
 everything that had happened." 
 
 "Just what did happen, night before last, Mr. 
 Appleton?" 
 , "Well, you know of the lawsuit. I believe my
 
 IN THE WATCHES OP THE NIGHT 127 
 
 mother told you that it was just a test case, a 
 friendly suit. It wasn't, entirely, although we 
 stayed on in the house until the renovating of ours 
 was completed, to save talk and gossip. There'd 
 been too much of that, already. We've been 
 pretty wild, I guess, Garret and I; but you can 
 believe I'm going to be a different man, Mr. 
 Gaunt! This terrible thing has pulled me up 
 short, I can tell you! After the lawsuit was over, 
 and I'd failed, Garret pulled the purse-strings 
 tighter than ever, and wouldn't help me out with 
 my debts, or anything. Night before last, I wene 
 to the Patriarchs', and gambled, and lost a lot of 
 money. I ave my note for it, of course; but, 
 as I was leaving, I overheard a remark that made 
 me determined to pay up what I had lost, right 
 then and there. I'd been drinking, too, and 
 hitting up the the other thing that you discovered, 
 and I was wild desperate! I went home, tackled 
 my brother where I knew he'd be by himself, drink- 
 ing in the den, and tried to get him to advance 
 me the money. I might as well have tried to move 
 a rock! He's always ugly when he's drinking; 
 but that night he was worse than ever. He was 
 highly excited, just about purple with rage, in 
 fact, when I entered. Something must have hap- 
 pened, before I came in, to upset him. He cursed 
 and reviled me, and I well, I told you I was pretty 
 well wrought up, myself. He goaded me on until 
 I struck him. Then he ordered me from the house,
 
 128 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 and, after a minute, I went. I discovered, after 
 I was in the motor again, that I'd lost my cuff- 
 link; but I borrowed one from Maurice Livingston. 
 All the rest of the night you know. I went home 
 again when I got ready. My brother and I'd had 
 rows before, although we hadn't come to blows 
 in years, and I knew it would all have blown over 
 by the morning. You know what was found when 
 morning came. I don't know who killed my 
 brother. I wish to heaven I did! And I don't 
 know who faked up that burglary stunt, if it was 
 really faked up. But I know I'm innocent of an/ 
 part in his death!" 
 
 "You would have done far better if you had told 
 me all this frankly yesterday, Mr. Appleton," 
 Gaunt remarked, quietly. "If you are innocent, 
 as you say, there is one person who believed you 
 guilty your mother!'* 
 
 "My mother!" the young man repeated, aghast. 
 
 "Have you forgotten what she said when she 
 turned from the body of your brother and found 
 you standing in the doorway? She called you, 
 'Cain!'" 
 
 "She was unnerved, overwrought. What could 
 be expected of a woman, a mother, at such a time? 
 She was out of her mind with the shock and grief 
 and horror. She didn't know what she was saying I 
 She had known, of course, that there wasn't much 
 love lost between Garret and me. She's witnessed 
 some pretty bad quarrels between us, and just for
 
 IN THE WATCHES OF THE NIGHT 129 
 
 a minute she lost her senses, and accused me. She 
 saw, though, almost immediately, how unjust, 
 how impossible, such a thing could be, and she 
 sent at once for you, to find out the truth for 
 us." 
 
 "Well, Mr. Appleton, the evidence, circumstan- 
 tial as it is, would point, at this stage of the in- 
 vestigation, directly to you in the eyes of the 
 officials, the police. It would be useless for me to 
 deny that. The fact that you bribed one ser- 
 vant, and would have bribed another had it been 
 within your power to accede to his requests, to 
 conceal your return to the house, to the room in 
 which your brother was afterward found murdered, 
 would look very bad for you, from Inspector Han- 
 rahan's point of view. However, there are one 
 or two points in your favor, which he might oVer- 
 look, and I won't put the evidence I have ob- 
 tained in his hands just yet. But you must give 
 me your word of honor not to leave town, not to 
 try any more tricks like that of this morning. You 
 must be where I can reach you instantly at any 
 hour of the day or night; for, if you are really as 
 anxious as you say you are to discover who killed 
 your brother, I may want your help." 
 
 "Of course, Mr. Gaunt, I can't thank you enough, 
 sir, for your forbearance!" Tears of weakness and 
 gratitude rose in the young man's eyes, and he 
 brushed them away with a trembling hand. "I'm 
 sure you know as well as I do that I had nothing
 
 130 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 to do with Garret's death; but I might have a 
 hard time proving it to the police, and, as you say, 
 appearances are against me. Of course, I want 
 to know who killed my brother; but, if it wasn't 
 a burglar, and you've seemed to prove that it 
 wasn't, isn't there a chance that he might have 
 committed suicide?" 
 
 "In that case, who would have prepared the 
 burglary evidence, and what became of his jewelry 
 and money?" asked Gaunt. 
 
 The other was silent. 
 
 "No, Mr. Appleton," the detective remarked con- 
 clusively, "your brother was murdered, and for 
 a motive other than that of paltry robbery. We 
 may be sure of that. I must be off now. You 
 will give me your word to be on hand when I need 
 you again?" 
 
 "My word of honor, Mr. Gaunt, and please 
 believe that I appreciate what you have done for 
 me. You might have had me placed under arrest, 
 I know, on the evidence you have, and, although 
 I should have been cleared, of course, in time, 1 
 should never have been able to live it down, and 
 the disgrace and notoriety would have about 
 killed my mother. If my brother did not commit 
 suicide, I'm as anxious as you, and more, to know 
 who killed him." 
 
 Gaunt found Saunders waiting faithfully in the 
 hall, and went swiftly home, for a quick bite. 
 It was after two o'clock in the afternoon, and he
 
 IN THE WATCHES OF THE NIGHT 131 
 
 still had much to do that day. He saw to it that 
 the chauffeur, too, had some lunch, and imme- 
 diately afterward motored to the Appletons'. 
 
 The butler grew pale on seeing him; but the 
 detective brusquely ignored their interview of 
 the morning, and asked to see Miss Ellerslie. 
 
 She came to him almost at once, in the library. 
 Her low voice was faint and quivering with anxiety, 
 and the hand she extended to him was cold. 
 
 "Your sister, Mrs. Appleton?" he asked. "1 
 trust that she is better, that she has rallied a little 
 from the shock of yesterday?" 
 
 "On the contrary, Mr. Gaunt, she is ill, verjp 
 dangerously ill." She seemed scarcely to breathe 
 the words. ' i < 
 
 He murmured a conventional regret, 'scarcely 
 knowing the words he uttered. The strange spell 
 her mere presence had exercised over him on the 
 previous day, seemed intensified. She held her-, 
 self less in reserve, as if her anxiety had beaten, 
 down a tithe of her supreme self-control. 
 
 "Can you tell me," he added, "about how soon 
 Mrs. Appleton will be able to see me? I'll promise 
 faithfully not to shock her, or annoy her. It is 
 something entirely impersonal about which I wish 
 to consult her.*' 
 
 "Not for many days. She is so ill that perhaps 
 her very life is in danger perhaps her reason. 
 The doctor is with her now, and has called in a 
 specialist."
 
 132 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 "I did not realize it was as serious as that. 
 Believe me, Miss Ellerslie, I am deeply sorry for 
 her, and for you, too, in your anxiety. May I 
 ask you just a few questions? I won't keep you 
 long from your sister." 
 
 "Certainly, Mr. Gaunt." But, as she spoke, 
 he heard a slight tinkling, drumming sound. She 
 had reached over unconsciously, and picked up one 
 of the small silver or bronze ornaments from the 
 writing-table, and was playing with it idly between 
 her trembling fingers. 
 
 "Miss Ellerslie, you said yesterday that, when 
 you returned from the wedding the night before, 
 your old nurse, Mammy Lu, told you that your 
 sister was awake and nervous, and you went in 
 just as you were, in the costume you had worn at 
 the wedding reception, and remained with her 
 until she was quiet." 
 
 The tinkling rattle stopped suddenly. 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Gaunt, I did." 
 
 "You did not, before you went up-stairs and 
 encountered the maid, go near the den?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "And, after your sister was quiet, did you go 
 immediately to your room and retire, OP did you 
 descend to the room where your brother-in-law 
 was?" 
 
 There was a sudden, loud snap. The paper- 
 knife, which Miss Ellerslie had held, had broken 
 In two in her sudden, convulsive grasp. She laid
 
 133 
 
 the pieces mechanically on the table before she 
 answered quietly: 
 
 "I went directly to my room, and retired." 
 
 "Directly after leaving your sister, you mean?" 
 
 "Directly after leaving my sister." Her voice 
 had lost the low, thrilling timbre, and held the 
 curious, sad, controlled note of the previous day. 
 
 "And the next thing you heard was the house- 
 maid's screams, when she went to the den, the fol- 
 lowing morning?" 
 
 "That is so, Mr. Gaunt." 
 
 i "Yet you did not sleep well; you were, m fact, 
 awake most of the night, were you not?" 
 
 "Why I think not; I am not sure. I am 
 usually a light sleeper, and I was worried by my 
 sister's nervous condition; but I believe that I 
 slept rather well." 
 
 i "Marie, the maid of the elder Mrs. Appleton, 
 heard you walking the floor a great deal during 
 the night. Her room is directly above yours, 
 you know." 
 
 I There was a slight pause, and then the girl's 
 , voice sounded upon his ear with its natural soft 
 drawl intensified, almost as if with studied effect: 
 
 "Did she? She must have exaggerated she is 
 very excitable. I occasionally pace up and down 
 the floor of my room, when sleep will not come to 
 me; but I fancy I did so no more on the night 
 before last than at any other time I am subject 
 to insomnia."
 
 134 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 "When you entered the house, Miss Ellerslie, 
 on your return from the wedding, did you hear any 
 sound from the direction of the den? A sound, 
 for instance, of two voices men's voices raised 
 in an altercation?" 
 
 "Oh, no!" The genuine surprise in her voice 
 made it rise a tone or two with the thrilling sweet- 
 ness of a bird's note. "There was no sound 
 whatever." 
 
 "Was there no light on the lower floor?" 
 
 "Only the hall light, which is always left burn- 
 ing all night, until the maids or butler come down 
 in the morning, and a faint radiance, which seemed 
 to come from the direction of the den, quite as if 
 my brother-in-law was sitting in there as usual, 
 and the door was open the door of the den, I 
 mean." 
 
 Gaunt pondered a moment. The housemaid, 
 Katie, had stated to him on the previous day 
 that, when she entered the den in the early morn- 
 ing and found a cuff-link, and later the body of her 
 master, there had been no light whatever in the 
 den, save that from the one opened window. 
 Whoever, then, had changed the appearance of 
 the room after the tragedy, had put out the light. 
 
 "And during the night you heard no sound 
 whatever, Miss Ellerslie? Forgive me for re- 
 peating my questions to you, but I am trying to 
 recall any sound which may have reached your 
 ears during your wakeful hours, but which you
 
 IN THE WATCHES OF THE NIGHT 135 
 
 dismissed from your thoughts as of no signifi- 
 cance." 
 
 There was silence for a moment, and then she 
 answered with the air of finality: 
 
 "No, Mr. Gaunt; not the slightest sound what- 
 ever." 
 
 "Very well, Miss Ellerslie. I won't keep you 
 from your sister any longer. My chauffeur is 
 waiting in the vestibule." 
 
 But even as she opened the library-door, Dakers 
 appeared upon the threshold. 
 
 "Mr. Force and Mr. Witherspoon are in the 
 drawing-room, Miss Ellerslie. They wish to know 
 if they can see you for a moment." 
 , After a slight, but obvious, hesitation, the girl said : 
 
 "Yes, Dakers, tell them I will come at once." 
 Then, as the butler disappeared down the hall, 
 she turned again to the detective. "Mr. Gaunt, 
 I told you yesterday of my engagement to Mr. 
 Randolph Force, and that I meant to break that 
 engagement, and remain with my sister. I have 
 reconsidered." Then, with a little smile: "That 
 is supposed to be a woman's prerogative, isn't it? 
 I mean that I shall stay with my sister, but permit 
 the engagement to go on, for a time at least. I 
 trust that you will hold what I told you yesterday 
 in the strictest confidence." 
 
 "Certainly, Miss Ellerslie. I wonder if Mr. 
 Force would call on me this evening, in my rooms? 
 I will perhaps be^able to obtain from him some
 
 136 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 data concerning the Appleton family which others 
 have been unable to give me. It was for this 
 reason I wished an interview with your sister." 
 
 "I can tell you all you wish to know about the 
 Appleton family, Mr. Gaunt; as much as my sister 
 or Mr. Force could." There was an unconscious 
 note of anxiety in her voice. 
 
 "No; the data I wish go further back into his- 
 tory, things that only an old New Yorker and 
 contemporary of theirs, a man of their set, could 
 tell me." His voice was very gentle, but there 
 was a graver note in it, almost a command, as 
 he added: "Please, tell Mr. Force I will be at home 
 at nine." 
 
 She sighed a little, and her voice, as she replied, 
 was so low as to be almost inaudible. "I will tell 
 him, Mr. Gaunt." 
 
 "Thank you. May I trouble you with one 
 more question this time an irrelevant one? Why 
 is your hair all wet about your forehead?" 
 
 "My hair?" she repeated in surprise, putting her 
 hands quickly to her head. Her hair was lying 
 in flat, damp tendrils about her face. "Oh, yes! 
 They they were bathing my forehead." 
 
 "Ah! You, too, were ill, Miss Ellerslie?" 
 
 "I I fainted, just a few minutes before you 
 came," she confessed. "It was silly of me, of 
 course. I don't remember ever having done such 
 a thing before. I have been quite unnerved by 
 my anxiety over my sister."
 
 IN THE WATCHES OF THE NIGHT 137 
 
 "I understand. I am deeply sorry for you 
 both." 
 
 As they moved away from the library door 
 together, she asked, in a strange tone, as if some- 
 thing impelled her to voice the question, quite 
 without her own volition: 
 
 "Mr. Gaunt, how 'how did you know my hair 
 was wet?" 
 
 "Oh, that?" he smiled. "There is a peculiar 
 odor about moistened hair, which is distinctly 
 noticeable, and like nothing else in the world. 
 Good-afternoon, Miss Ellerslie."
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 DORIS 
 
 ON leaving the Appleton house, Gaunt's car 
 sped swiftly to the Blenheim, where Mrs. 
 Finlay Appleton had taken up her abode. 
 
 "Have you any news for me, Mr. Gaunt? '* she 
 inquired anxiously, when he was admitted to her 
 presence. " This strain is terrible. I would wel- 
 come almost any news, if it was news." 
 
 "We have succeeded in eliminating a number 
 of irrelevant facts, Mrs. Appleton; but you must 
 be patient. There is much work ahead for us, 
 until we can see clearly to the end. I have come 
 to ask if I may have a few moments' interview with 
 your maid, Marie." 
 
 "With my maid?" Mrs. Appleton's tone was 
 loftily amazed. "I cannot see what evidence my 
 maid would be able to give, Mr. Gaunt, aside from 
 the chatter of the servants' hall idle gossip of which 
 there has been far too much already." 
 
 Mr. Gaunt smiled deprecatingly, and said in the 
 tone he could so well assume on occasion : 
 
 "Well, we must leave no stone unturned, you 
 know, and there is often much that goes on in a 
 household of which sharp-eyed servants are cog- 
 nizant, when the mistress is not." Mrs. Appte- 
 
 138
 
 DORIS 139 
 
 :on cleared her throat in a manner which indicated 
 
 chat, although this might be the case in some 
 
 is, it was not true of one over which she 
 
 but the detective's next question changed 
 
 iier thoughts suddenly into a new and alarming 
 
 channel. 
 
 "Mrs. Appleton, I do not like to distress you by 
 a reference to the painful scene of yesterday morn- 
 ing, but believe me, it is necessary. When you 
 rushed down-stairs in response to the screams of 
 your housemaid, and discovered the body of your 
 eldest son, Mr. Yates Appleton, I understand, 
 was not present. When he appeared in the door- 
 way, you turned and spoke to him. Do you re- 
 member what you said?" 
 
 "H-m!" the elderly lady hesitated. Then she 
 replied in obvious haste: "No, Mr. Gaunt, I do 
 not. I do not even remember I noticed him 
 there. At any rate, what does it matter? What 
 could it matter what a woman said at such a 
 time?" 
 
 "It matters a great deal," the detective replied, 
 quietly. "It was most significant." 
 
 "I do not remember what it was," Mrs. Apple- 
 ton reiterated, quickly. "It could not have been 
 significant, for it was said unconsciously. I was 
 beside myself." 
 
 "You called your son, 'Cain!' That, Mrs. 
 Appleton, is the name of the oldest fratricide on 
 record. You are a woman, if you will pardon me,
 
 140 AT ONE-THIRTY -5 
 
 of very superior mentality. You say, or do, noth- 3 . 
 ing without reason. When you branded your & 
 son with that name, you considered him the mur- 
 derer of his brother." 
 
 "Ah, no, no, Mr. Gaunt! You exceed the power 
 I myself have vested in you, in this case. The 
 application was not a literal one, but a reproach 
 for the words my son had uttered to his elder 
 brother in a late quarrel. I see that I must tell 
 you, in order to avert a terrible mistake on your 
 part. My sons were the most loving of brothers.'* 
 The detective's face was a study. "But Garret 
 was the more prudent of the two; Yates the 
 spendthrift. They were both of violent temper, 
 and their frequent quarrels would have sounded 
 quite fearful to those who did not know that they 
 meant not a word of it, and that the whole matter 
 would be forgotten in an hour or two. 
 
 "Their quarrels, of course, were only about 
 money. During a recent one very recent Yates 
 told Garret he wished he was dead. It was in 
 reference to that, if anything, that I used the 
 word 'Cain/ if I did so. I don't remember it, 
 as I say; but I do know that the memory of that 
 quarrel returned to me, when I turned from my 
 dead to my living son. Had such a preposterous 
 suspicion as that which you surmise entered my 
 head, do you not think that I would have shielded 
 my son all that I possibly could from the con- 
 sequences of his act if not for his own sake, at
 
 DORIS 141 
 
 least, to save the family name from disgrace? 
 Yet, I sent at once for the police, and for the high- 
 est authority on the detection of crime in this 
 country for you, Mr. Gaunt." 
 
 He accepted the compliment gravely, and said: 
 
 "Will you tell me then, Mrs. Appleton, why, 
 after having retained me to discover the truth for 
 you, you were not entirely frank with me?" 
 
 She half-rose from the chair. 
 
 "My dear Mr. Gaunt " she began indignantly. 
 
 But he silenced her. 
 
 "You told me that the whole suit between your 
 two sons was a test case, an entirely amicable 
 affair; yet Mr. Yates Appleton has told me it was 
 not so. He has admitted, to use his own words: 
 'That there was bad blood between him and his 
 elder brother." 
 
 The lady bit her lip, and then said, more ve- 
 hemently than she had spoken; 
 
 "But can you not see, Mr. Gaunt, I knew that 
 the differences between my sons were absolutely 
 irrelevant to this case, as I informed you during 
 our first interview? I do not see any further need 
 of talk and raking up of scandal." 
 
 "That is all, Mrs. Appleton. May I see your 
 maid now?" 
 
 [ ( "Yes. If you will step into my dressing-room 
 you will find her the door there, just at the right 
 of your chair." 
 
 With a bow, he entered the next room, closing
 
 142 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 the door gently, but decisively, behind him, and 
 heard the rattle of spools and scissors, as the maid 
 rose hastily at his unexpected entrance. 
 
 "M'sieu Gaunt!" 
 
 "Marie, I want a word with you. To whom 
 did you telephone the news of the murder, imme- 
 diately after it was discovered, this morning?" 
 
 "I, m'sieu? To no one. Why should m'sieu 
 think that I " 
 
 "You were overheard telephoning the news of 
 the death of Mr. Garret Appleton to some one. 
 Who was it?" 
 
 "If m'sieu does not jest, someone has been tell- 
 ing him an untruth. I have telephone' to no 
 
 
 one. 
 
 "I suppose you know, Marie, that the Central 
 Exchange can be compelled on a court order to give 
 the number which you called on the 'phone at that 
 hour. Of course, if you wish me to carry the mat- 
 ter to Mrs. Appleton, or Judge Carhart 
 
 "Ah, in that case," the maid interrupted, with 
 superb insolence, "if m'sieu knows the number I 
 called, why does he question me?" 
 
 "You called Miss Carhart, to warn her in advance 
 of the death of the murder of Mr. Garret Apple- 
 ton. You thought she would wish to know pri- 
 vately before the news reached her house. Why 
 did you think she would wish to know?" 
 
 "Well, Mademoiselle Carhart is vairy young 
 and a great friend of the family. She had dined
 
 DORIS 143- 
 
 there only the night before, and I thought that 
 the shock 
 
 "No, Marie, I want the truth. You are in Mrs. 
 Appleton's employ, not Miss Carhart's. Why 
 should you telephone this news to her privately?" 
 
 The maid shrugged her shoulders with a gesture 
 of surrender. 
 
 "M'sieu, if you must know, there had been a 
 leetle affaire how do you say? a flirtation. Oh, 
 of an innocence absolutely, between M'm'sette Car- 
 hart and M'sieu Appleton. M'sieu had confided 
 in me. I had carried a note a leetle lettair, once 
 or twice; but it was nothing nothing to which 
 anyone could object. But I I imagine that 
 mademoiselle had become so greatly interested in 
 m'sieu that, if the sudden news of his death came 
 to her in the presence of her father, she might 
 might pairhaps give herself away. I like the 
 young mademoiselle, so jolie y so ingenious, and I 
 am romantic me." 
 
 "And you were well paid, I suppose, for carrying 
 these notes, eh?" 
 
 "But yes." The maid's tone suggested sur- 
 prise at the superfluous question. "Both M'sieu 
 Appleton and Mademoiselle Carhart were most gen- 
 erous." 
 
 "And that was all; just that Mr. Garret Apple- 
 ton permitted you to know of his flirtation? And 
 you carried notes once or twice. You saw nothing 
 at any time, in the Appleton home, or elsewhere,
 
 144 AT ONE-THIKTT 
 
 between these two; no confidential meetings 
 in the den, say, or elsewhere?" 
 
 "Oh, but yes, m'sieu, I have eyes. Once or 
 twice, when there was a large reception, or dinner, 
 or dance, on at the house of M'sieu Appleton, they 
 would slip away for a little talk of but a minute 
 or two in the hall, or library, or or den." 
 
 "Marie, did you see them in the den on the night 
 of the murder?" 
 
 "The evening before, after dinner, m'sieu means? 
 It is possible. After Madame Appleton Madame 
 Garret Appleton had retired, I passed along the 
 hall from the staircase leading from the servant's 
 dining-room up to Madame Appleton's, my mis- 
 tress's, to prepare her things for the night. I 
 pass the door of the den, and I see then M'sieu 
 Appleton and a lady. I did not turn and look 
 in, I glanc' with the corner of my eye, and I could 
 not see who the lady was, but I think it was Made- 
 moiselle Carhart." 
 
 "Very well, Marie. That was all I wanted of 
 you. Only, if Inspector Hanrahan comes to you, 
 do not lie to him. You might find yourself in seri- 
 ous trouble." 
 
 As the maid turned, with a sigh of relief, to show 
 him to the door, he stopped. 
 
 "Why do you sew without a thimble?" he asked, 
 with the whimsical smile that always accompanied 
 his sudden, irrelevant questions. "You are proud 
 of your hands, yet you permit the middle finger to
 
 DOEIS 145 
 
 become all roughened and abrased, from the needle- 
 head." 
 
 " I cannot sew wiz ze theemble. Eet ees what 
 you call eccentricitee, pairhaps? But how, 
 m'sieu " 
 
 "I heard the rough skin of your finger rasp 
 against your starched apron, as you turned, just 
 now. And I knew you were proud of your hands, 
 because you keep your nails so unusually long 
 and pointed." 
 
 With a little cry of dismay, the woman thrust 
 both her hands behind her. 
 
 "If m'sieu will pardon but when did m'sieu 
 discover zat?" 
 
 * Yesterday, when you came to the library of 
 the Appleton house, at the time I sent for you 
 for an interview, and you tapped upon the door 
 before entering. ... I must go now. Remember 
 what I have told you. Speak the truth to Inspector 
 Hanrahan when he comes, or you may have cause 
 for regret." 
 
 He took leave of Mrs. Appleton, and, with the 
 aid of a bell-boy, made his way to his car. There 
 was one errand yet before him, and one which he 
 anticipated with reluctance, persuaded as he was 
 in his own mind that the affair between Garret 
 Appleton and the Judge's daughter had been 
 innocent of what the world regards as the one 
 unpardonable wrong, in whatever despicable light 
 it might be considered otherwise. He felt he must
 
 146 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 -get at the truth of the matter, and that from the 
 girl herself. 
 
 On arrival at the Carharts', he was shown to the 
 drawing-room, and she came to him almost imme- 
 diately. Her uneasiness at his visit was plainly 
 evidenced in her voice, as she greeted him. 
 
 "Miss Carhart," he said very gravely, "did you 
 acquaint your father at once, yesterday morning, 
 of the death of Mr. Garret Appleton?" 
 
 "My father?" she faltered. "Why, it was he 
 who told me. The news was brought to him." 
 
 The detective shook his head. 
 
 "I mean, when Marie, Mrs. Appleton's maid, 
 telephoned you." 
 
 "Telephoned me? Marie telephoned me?" Her 
 voice was scarcely above a whisper, and it seemed 
 as if she could do no more than echo his words. 
 
 t"Miss Carhart," he went on, "whatever you say 
 to me, if you are perfectly frank, will be strictly 
 confidential; but if you do not disclose the whole 
 truth, I may be compelled to carry the matter to 
 your father. I must know the exact relations 
 which existed between you and Garret Appleton." 
 
 The girl rose to her feet indignantly. 
 
 "How dare you!" she cried. "What do you 
 mean to insinuate? My father would be the first 
 to order you from this house, if you dared to 
 approach him with any story which reflected upon 
 my reputation." 
 
 "Nevertheless," he went on doggedly, "I know,
 
 DORIS 147 
 
 and can prove, that an affair of some sort existed 
 between you and the man whose death I am 
 investigating. I know that Marie, his mother's 
 maid, frequently carried messages from him to 
 you; that she knew, and admits the knowledge, 
 of an affair between you, and that she will so 
 testify, if necessary, and that she telephoned you 
 privately of his death, in order that you might 
 not betray your shock to your father, when the 
 news reached you officially." 
 
 The girl, who had seated herself, clasped and 
 unclasped the arms of her chair nervously, and 
 beat a little angry tattoo with her foot upon the 
 floor. 
 
 "If you must know, Mr. Gaunt," she said at 
 last, with a little, quick intake of breath, "I did 
 have a sort of flirtation with Garret Appleton; 
 but it was an entirely innocent affair, the same 
 sort of thing that goes on every day in society. 
 We had been engaged at one time, and it was only 
 natural that I should want to to pique his wife,, 
 and punish him for his defection. I hadn't married, 
 because I never found any one whom I liked, 
 as I had liked Garret, and I did not think he should 
 have married, either. I knew that he and his 
 wife weren't happy, weren't getting along to- 
 gether, and I flirted with him a little, deliberately^ 
 but I never saw him alone, nor was indiscreet in 
 any possible way. Don't you understand, Mr. 
 Gaunt? It was only to punish him."
 
 148 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 "You did see him alone. Marie has come upon 
 you often in his own house, talking very con- 
 fidentially." 
 
 "But that was only when an affair was on at his 
 house, at which all our set were present. He might 
 have talked as frequently, and said the same 
 things, to any other young girl of his mother's or 
 wife's acquaintance." 
 
 "When was the last time you saw him alone, 
 Miss Carhart?" 
 
 "Really, I I don't remember." 
 
 "Was it the night before his death, Miss Car- 
 hart?" 
 
 "Oh, naturally, if you call that seeing him alone. 
 After his wife had retired, we stayed in the library, 
 talking, where my father and Mrs. Finlay Apple- 
 ton were playing cards, and then yes, we did 
 drift into the music-room, which opens from the 
 library, and I played a little, I think." 
 
 "And that was all? You did not enter the den, 
 Miss Carhart?" 
 
 "No, Mr. Gaunt." 
 
 The detective rose. 
 
 "Miss Carhart, you will recall what I said to 
 you at the commencement of this interview? If 
 you are not absolutely frank with me, I must go 
 to your father. Will you tell me if he is at 
 home?" 
 
 "I don't know what you mean! I am absolutely 
 frank with you."
 
 DORIS 149 
 
 "You were in the den alone with Mr. Apple- 
 ton, the night before his death. You were seen 
 there." 
 
 "I was seen there?" 
 
 "I will be more frank than you have been. After 
 ' Mrs. Garret Appleton had retired, Marie passed 
 along the hall before the half-open door of the den, 
 and saw you there with Mr. Appleton." 
 
 There was a pause, and then the girl said, with 
 a little break in her voice: 
 
 "I see there is no use attempting to withhold 
 anything from you, Mr. Gaunt. I only attempted 
 to do so because I wanted you to be sure in your 
 own mind of the truth that my flirtation with 
 Mr. Appleton was only that, and nothing more. 
 I was in the den with Mr. Appleton. He took 
 me in there ostensibly to show me some new curios 
 he had recently purchased, but he really wanted 
 to talk to me alone. You see, he had taken our 
 little flirtation more seriously than I. 
 
 "My father had planned to take me abroad 
 next week for the winter, and he was quite broken 
 up about it. I was really sorry that I had ever 
 /started to play this rather cruel little joke on 
 him when I realized now how badly he felt, and I 
 was a little frightened, too; so I cut our conversa- 
 sion short, and returned to the library, where my 
 father was. That is all, Mr. Gaunt really, really 
 all! And now that this this terrible thing has 
 come, I feel so differently about it all so deeply
 
 150 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 sorry that I have caused Mrs. Garret Apple- 
 ton any pain so sorry that I I played with 
 fire!" 
 
 "I am glad that you have been frank with me, 
 Miss Carhart. I believe that you have been; 
 but I must know a little more. In that inter- 
 view with him in the den, did Mr. Appleton make 
 any violent demonstration of affection toward you, 
 any suggestions or proposals for the future?" 
 
 "No, not exactly," the girl returned, hesitatingly. 
 "He was very much wrought-up and excited, 
 and didn't seem to be quite quite himself. He 
 said that he could not bear the thought of my 
 departure for Europe of my being where he could 
 not see me sometimes; and, when he saw how aghast 
 I was that things had drifted so far between us in 
 his estimation, he accused me of flirting with 
 him, of wilfully leading him on, which was just- 
 just what I had been doing, Mr. Gaunt, only 
 I it sounded so awful, put into words. 
 
 "I was very indignant, and told him so. I I 
 reminded him of the respect due to the woman 
 up-stairs. Oh, I said all the hypocritical things 
 that a girl usually says when she had been play- 
 ing with a man, and gets found out, and then I 
 cut out the conversation short, and went back to 
 the library." 
 
 "And he came with you?" 
 
 "Yes; but he was sullen, and in an injured mood, 
 of course, although he quelled it before my father.
 
 DORIS 151 
 
 Nevertheless, I felt uncomfortable, and I was glad 
 when the time came for us to go home." 
 
 "And you heard nothing further?" 
 
 "Nothing until Marie called me up, and told 
 me of of his death." 
 
 "Miss Carhart, did you know of any enemies 
 any active enemies whom Mr. Appleton may have 
 had ? Did he ever tell you of any difficulty he was 
 in, or trouble?" 
 
 "No; he only spoke, in a general way, of his 
 unhappiness at home the sort of thing a married 
 man always says when he wants sympathy that 
 he isn't understood." 
 
 "That is all, Miss Carhart. I won't trouble 
 you any longer." 
 
 He turned toward the door; but she laid a small, 
 detaining hand on his arm. 
 
 "I know that you think I am horrid, Mr. Gaunt; 
 that I don't deserve any respect, or anything. 
 But it was only a petty malicious impulse my 
 flirting with him, I mean, and I yielded to it. If 
 you could know how sorry I am!" 
 
 The detective smiled a little. 
 
 "We all do things which we are sorry for, at 
 one time, or another, Miss Carhart, and it is past. 
 You may be sure that your confidence will be 
 respected. Good-afternoon." 
 
 His thoughts on the way home were far from 
 satisfied ones. If Yates Appleton was not guilty 
 of his brother's death, his investigation seemed
 
 152 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 to have made little or no headway. He had, to 
 be sure, cleared up a number of false clues; but 
 they had been fairly obvious from the start, and 
 he seemed to be working in circles, wasting valuable 
 time, and getting no nearer the real truth. Could 
 it be that another line of investigation lay open 
 to him, which he had almost wilfully overlooked 
 for the multiplicity of clues that lay more readily 
 within reach? Had he, because of his blindness, 
 missed some essential detail, failed to discover 
 some salient point, some significant finger-post, 
 which, to his trained faculties, would have pointed 
 unmistakably to the truth? He writhed in spirit. 
 Why had fate endowed him with the abilities, 
 the genius, which he possessed, and denied to him 
 the greatest of all attributes in the life-work which 
 he had chosen?
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 A NEW TURNING 
 
 WHEN Gaunt reached his rooms, he found 
 Inspector Hanrahan impatiently pacing 
 the floor of his library. 
 
 "Thought you would never come, Mr. Gaunt," 
 he said. "I have been waiting for you nearly an 
 hour. Have you come upon anything?" 
 
 "Running down a lot of false clues; clearing out 
 the underbrush, that's about all." Gaunt could not 
 quite keep the bitterness he felt from manifesting 
 itself in his voice. 
 
 "Ah-ha! Well, I've come on something we've 
 never even thought of looking into. We've taken 
 the case up from the time of the murder, or at least 
 the evening before. But how about the day before, 
 Mr. Gaunt? Did it occur to you to find out how 
 Garret Appleton spent the last day of his life?" 
 
 The detective concealed his chagrin with an 
 effort. Could this be the line of investigation 
 that he had overlooked, not because of his blind- 
 ness, but because of a crass stupidity of reasoning 
 which was plainly unaccountable. 
 
 "Can't say that it did, Inspector. I have been 
 too busy following up the clues we already had." 
 
 "Well!" The Inspector settled back in a chair 
 
 153
 
 154 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 with immense satisfaction. "When I'd run that 
 Louis Lantelme business to earth, and found there 
 was nothing in it, there didn't seem a single thing 
 left to go on; so I thought I'd cast backward a 
 little. In the first place I got this from Louis 
 for the last two or three months Mr. Appleton has 
 had something on his mind something besides 
 his family troubles, and all that, I mean. He 
 kept it pretty much to himself; but his man knew 
 it trust a valet, or a lady's maid, to know as much 
 about the people they work for as they know about 
 themselves. 
 
 "As far as Louis could make out, it started with 
 an article his master read in the newspaper about 
 three months ago. He seemed very much excited, 
 and did some mysterious telephoning; but the valet 
 didn't hear the numbers, and didn't know what it 
 was about. After Mr. Appleton had gone out, the 
 valet looked carefully through that page of the 
 paper which had upset his master; but he couldn't 
 find anything in it which, to his mind, would seem 
 to have any bearing on Mr. Appleton's affairs. 
 
 "He would have forgotten all about it, only from 
 that minute his master seemed a changed man; 
 to him, at least. More irritable than ever, and 
 anxious not as if he was afraid, but as if he was 
 worried about to death. Once in the last month 
 while Louis was in his employ, Mr. Appleton 
 had gone away alone just over night. He's 
 always taken Louis with him before, and that was
 
 A NEW TURNING ' 155 
 
 what impressed it upon the valet's mind as being 
 unusual. Moreover, when he returned, he seemed 
 more depressed and worried than ever." 
 
 Inspector Hanrahan paused as if for commenda- 
 tion; but the detective merely asked quietly: 
 
 "Anything else?" 
 
 "Not from Louis Lantelme. You know he was 
 discharged about a month ago. But when I went 
 at the butler with this line of questioning, I got 
 a few more facts. I told you I thought that fel- 
 low had something up his sleeve. It seems that, 
 about three weeks ago, Mr. Appleton received a 
 letter with a special-delivery stamp, quite late 
 one evening. 
 
 "There was a dinner on at the house and lots 
 of guests there; but he excused himself and went 
 out in his car. He didn't return until nearly six 
 in the morning, and Dakers, whom he had told 
 to wait up for him and I guess from the way the 
 fellow talked he was well paid for it says the car 
 was splashed from end to end with mud, as if it 
 had had a long run, through heavy roads although 
 it hadn't rained in New York that night." 
 
 "Not so much in that," the detective remarked. 
 
 "The morning before his death, Mr. Appleton 
 received another special-delivery letter. This time, 
 Mr. Appleton went out in his car, immediately, 
 as before; but he returned about five o'clock in the 
 afternoon, and, from then until dinner time, 
 Dakers was pretty busy bringing him drinks. He
 
 156 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 did not seem anxious or worried then, but madder 
 than the deuce. 
 
 "We couldn't get a thing out of Mr. Appleton's 
 chauffeur, at first. He and Mr. Yates each had 
 their own, you know, and Mr. Garret's is a stolid 
 German, and I suspect was paid to keep his mouth 
 shut. But, after we had been at him for awhile, 
 he said he had driven Mr. Appleton, on the day 
 before his death, to a road-house away up on the 
 Boston Post Road, where he's had his own lunch, 
 and waited for three hours for his employer. Then 
 he brought him straight home. 
 
 "I got the name of the road-house from him. 
 It's The Rocky Point Inn, and I'm going up there 
 for dinner tonight, and find out what Garret 
 Appleton did during those three hours and whom 
 he met, and then I am going to trace them, if I 
 can. 
 
 "As to the time before, when they went on that 
 all-night trip, they went over to Jersey, by way 
 of Staten Island and Perth Amboy Ferry, to a farm- 
 house half-way between Metuchen and New Bruns- 
 wick. I have got two men out there now, with the 
 chauffeur to show them the house, and see what 
 we get out of that." 
 
 "What do you think, yourself, Inspector? Got 
 a theory?" 
 
 "I think they're the most confoundedly mys- 
 terious bunch I ever came in contact with. Mr. 
 Garret Appleton was in some secret mix-up of his
 
 A NEW TURNING 157 
 
 own, as sure as you are alive nothing criminal, 
 or anything of that sort, I think; but some- 
 thing he didn't take his family into his affairs 
 about. They were a swift couple, those two 
 brothers, from all I have been able to gather. 
 They've kept the family in hot water and them- 
 selves just out of scare-heads in the newspapers 
 since their college days; but I think I'm on the 
 trail of something at last." 
 
 "You have done a lot, Inspector; but I don't 
 quite see where it comes in connection with the 
 murder. Do you?" 
 
 "No," Inspector Hanrahan admitted. "I don't 
 quite see that yet myself; but it may come out 
 later. Anyway, it's worth sifting to the bottom. 
 We've not got any other clue to go on." 
 
 "Of course," Gaunt said musingly, as if to him- 
 self, "if any outsider, who has not come into the 
 case as yet, committed the murder, he must have 
 had an ally in the house to let him in, in the first 
 place, and then attempt to conceal traces of the 
 crime afterward, and that hardly seems feasible, 
 since no one seems to have known of this private 
 matter except Garret Appleton, himself." 
 
 "How about that butler, Dakers? I've had my 
 eye on him from the first. I cannot help feeling, 
 somehow, that he holds the key to the whole 
 thing." 
 
 The Inspector had risen, and Gaunt rose with 
 him.
 
 158 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 "Inspector, it's well that you've no stealthy 
 criminal to trail tonight a criminal with trained 
 ears and a sense of humor," the detective remarked 
 jestingly. "If you had, your task would be hope- 
 less from the start." 
 
 "Why?" The Inspector reddened, and shifted 
 uneasily from one foot to the other. "I don't 
 get you, Mr. Gaunt." 
 
 "Your boots, man! I could hear you coming 
 three hundred yards away. You've taken to 
 wearing that soft goat's-skin, again, machine- 
 sewn, and you creak like a windlass!" He clapped 
 the discomfited official on the back in friendly 
 fashion, and added: "Well, let me know if you 
 get anything, and, if I learn anything, definitely, 
 you'll hear from me. Turn about is only fair 
 play, and we seem to be working together on this 
 thing." 
 
 "Yes, sir. I've not forgotten the pointer you 
 gave me last night to watch that butler. To 
 be sure," he added hastily, "I have suspected him 
 all along, as I've said, of knowing something; but 
 it sort of confirmed it, when I found he'd impressed 
 you the same way. You'll hear from me in the 
 morning, sir." 
 
 After he had departed, Gaunt dined hastily, 
 and then spent the intervening time before the 
 anticipated arrival of Randolph Force at the 
 telephone. His several short conversations seemed 
 to bring him no satisfaction, however, and he
 
 A NEW TURNING 159 
 
 turned from his own thoughts with a distinct 
 feeling of relief, when his visitor was announced. 
 
 Randolph Force's step was firm and steady, 
 his handclasp warm and vigorous, his voice low 
 and rich. He brought in with him a breath of the 
 cool, clean outdoors and a faint odor of good 
 tobacco. Gaunt felt instinctively drawn to this 
 man, who was the affianced husband of the woman 
 who had so deeply impressed him. 
 
 He seemed, even in the first few moments of 
 their meeting, to be a fit mate for her, strong and 
 controlled and ringing true. 
 
 "Mr. Gaunt? Miss Ellerslie told me you wished 
 to see me. If I can be of any assistance 
 
 "Sit down, Mr. Force. I wanted some infor- 
 mation, in a general way, concerning the Appleton 
 family the men of the family, in particular from 
 one who had known them well, yet who was not 
 one of their intimate associates. I thought that 
 you would be able to give it to me." 
 
 The other man laughed pleasantly. 
 
 "I've known them always the two boys, I 
 mean. What makes you think I am not an asso- 
 ciate of theirs?" 
 
 "Because Miss Ellerslie tells me that she is 
 engaged to you. She would not be likely, I think, 
 to choose her future husband from among the 
 confreres of her brother-in-law." 
 
 There was a moment's pause, and then the young 
 man said gravely:
 
 160 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 "I see your point, Mr. Gaunt. As a matter- 
 of-fact, although my family and the Appletons 
 have been closely allied socially for three gener- 
 ations, I've never gone around very much with 
 ( Garret and Yates. Our interests let us say, 
 our ideas of amusement differ." 
 
 "Can you tell me confidentially, of course 
 something of the two men, Mr. Force something 
 of their characters and pursuits?" 
 
 "That's rather a difficult proposition. A man 
 doesn't like to discuss other men, from a personal 
 standpoint. Yates is rather an ass, I should say. 
 No real downright harm in him; but he goes the 
 pace, and his friends make a fool of him, gener- 
 ally. With Garret hang it all! one shouldn't 
 speak ill of the dead but the same tendencies 
 Yates manifests had sunk in deeper in him, if you 
 know what I mean the tendency to consider 
 vices a form of modern sport. With Yates, it is 
 merely foolish weakness; with Garret, it had be- 
 come sheer evilness. Yates drinks with his crowd; 
 Garret alone. Yates is without moral stamina; 
 Garret was deliberately, shrewdly vicious. You 
 understand the distinction I am endeavoring to 
 make?" 
 
 "Perfectly. You say that your family have been 
 closely allied to that of the Appletons, for three 
 generations? Can you tell me something of their 
 antecedents?" 
 
 "Their father, Finlay Appleton, was a fine old
 
 A NEW TURNING 161 
 
 man, and a great friend of my late father's. Their 
 grandfather, Appleton, started in life as an up- 
 state farmer's boy, and died a multi-millionaire 
 and power in Wall Street. Their mother was a 
 Yates one of the Tuxedo Yates. Her people 
 were rich, too, but far from being as wealthy as 
 the Appletons. Her father was a born miser, 
 and would have done anything, gone to any lengths, 
 to accumulate and hoard money. That is a trait 
 which Garret Appleton had inherited to a marked 
 degree. He, of course, entertained lavishly, and 
 spent money with seeming extravagance; but it 
 was only to keep up his position before the world, 
 to gain the reputation of being a generous, but 
 never spendthrift, millionaire. 
 
 "From his grandfather, Yates, he inherited an 
 inordinate love of money for its own sake, and 
 there have more than once been whispers in the 
 Street that his operations were not entirely on the 
 level; in fact, were perilously near the danger 
 line. Of this, I think, his wife was in total ignor- 
 ance; but then, as far as I can learn, he never took 
 the trouble to make a companion or confidant 
 of her." 
 
 "Being engaged to Miss Ellerslie, you must 
 know of the conditions existing in the household 
 of her brother-in-law. " 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Gaunt; but I prefer not to speak of 
 them. You understand that, even to aid you in 
 your investigation, it would be impossible for me
 
 162 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 to do so. Miss Ellerslie has told me that you are 
 aware of the circumstances under which they lived, 
 of the unhappiness of her sister's home life, and the 
 hostile attitude assumed toward them by the other 
 members of the family. Surely, that is sufficient, 
 without going into details, which can have no 
 bearing on the fact of Garret's death, and which 
 really concern only the people involved? Really, 
 it is a a painful subject." 
 
 "I am going to be very frank with you, Mr. 
 Force. I am going to assume that you, as a pros- 
 pective member of the family, are cognizant, at 
 least, of all the intimate, personal facts, which I, 
 as a detective, have been able to glean in two 
 days. I know that Mr. Appleton had transferred 
 his affections from his wife to a young society girl, 
 a frequent guest at his house, and that, partly in 
 consequence of that, partly because of certain 
 traits in his character, his behavior to his wife was 
 brutal in the extreme. But I heard a suggestion, 
 also, that young Mrs. Appleton herself was not 
 without an opportunity of consoling herself, whether 
 she availed herself of it, or not." 
 
 "What?" the young man roared, jumping to 
 his feet. "They dared to do that! To utter a 
 whisper against an innocent, deeply suffering 
 woman! That was Yates, not his mother, I 
 know. She is too jealous of the family honor, 
 too fearful of gossip and scandal of which she 
 has already endured enough, through her sons
 
 A NEW TURNING 163 
 
 to breathe a word against anyone who bore her 
 name. It must have been Yates the contempt- 
 ible cur! Now I will speak, Mr. Gaunt!" 
 
 Randolph Force turned, and began pacing fur- 
 iously up and down before the hearth; and Gaunt 
 rested motionless in his chair, waiting for the other's 
 suddenly aroused indignation to find vent in speech. 
 At length, Force stopped abruptly, facing the de- 
 tective, and his words came with a rush: 
 
 "Natalie Appleton is as true and loyal a little 
 woman, as gentle a spirit, as ever existed. She 
 would not utter a word of complaint, of disparage- 
 ment even, under all the weight of her husband's 
 intolerable cruelties. For he was cruel; not pas- 
 sionately, but systematically, fiendishly. Never 
 mind how I know. It was not, I assure you, from 
 her own lips. A man who was as constant a visitor 
 at the house as I, the prospective husband of her 
 sister, could not help but inadvertently observe 
 much that was not meant for his eyes, hear much 
 that was not meant for his ears, and come inevit- 
 ably to know the truth. 
 
 "I did not need the gossip of the clubs and the 
 business world although I heard enough of it, 
 heaven knows! to know the sort of life she and her 
 sister were leading. I tell you, Mr. Gaunt, if 
 those two girls had had a single male relative liv- 
 ing, Garret Appleton would have had a bullet in 
 his heart long ago!" 
 
 He stopped suddenly, and, in the silence that
 
 164 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 followed, Gaunt could hear the creaking of the 
 heavy leather chair, as the young man flung him- 
 self back in his seat. Although the detective 
 waited, he did not speak again, and the stillness 
 deepened and was prolonged between them, until it 
 seemed to hang, heavy and sentient, upon the air. 
 At last, Gaunt himself broke the spell: 
 
 "You have known Miss Ellerslie long, Mr. 
 Force?" 
 
 "Ever since she came North, to make her home 
 with her sister. Although not intimate with either 
 of the brothers, as I have said, our families were 
 old friends, and I have been a frequent visitor, 
 with my mother and sisters, at Mrs. Finlay Ap- 
 pleton's house. When Garret married, of course, 
 I called, and admired his pretty, blonde little 
 wife tremendously, even before I realized the 
 strength of character that lay behind her physical 
 frailty. Then then I met Miss Ellerslie, and I 
 well, Mr. Gaunt, I imagine you know how it is 
 with a man!" 
 
 He paused in a sudden access of boyish con- 
 fusion, which was infinitely attractive after his 
 outburst of very real indignation and the self- 
 repression that had followed it. But the detective 
 did not heed the tone so much as the words them- 
 selves. He, too, had experienced the magnetism 
 that Barbara Ellerslie's mere presence bore with 
 it, the music in the soft, drawling pulsation of her 
 voice, the unnamable charm in the nearness of
 
 A NEW TURNING 165 
 
 her. The mention of her by the other man had 
 seemed to evoke her actual being; it was as if 
 she were there in that room, standing before him, 
 before his sightless eyes. He could almost hear 
 the sound of her light footfall, feel the brush of 
 her skirt against his knee, the touch of her cool 
 little hand; smell the fresh, pure fragrance of her, 
 the perfume of her breath upon his cheek, as when 
 she had leaned toward him in the earnestness of 
 her disclosures of the previous day. . . . Oh, yes, 
 he knew how it was with a man! 
 
 "You were to have been married soon?" He 
 heard his own voice quietly, steadily, breaking 
 the silence. 
 
 "This autumn, if things had grown a little brighter 
 for Natalie. I've had a splendid post offered me 
 in Russia. I don't need the money, of course; 
 but it is a wonderful opportunity in the diplo- 
 matic world. When it became evident that Bar- 
 bara that Miss Ellerslie could not leave her 
 sister, I renounced it, of course, and now every- 
 thing must be left to the future. I have hopes, 
 though, that, when Natalie's health is restored 
 from the effects of this frightful shock, and the long 
 martyrdon she has endured, we three may go 
 away together. I don't know why I am telling 
 you this, Mr. Gaunt; but I wanted to make my 
 own position in regard to the family plain to you." 
 
 "I quite understand. But, Mr. Force, you 
 parried my implied question of awhile ago. Is
 
 166 AT ONE-THIRTY ; 
 
 there no one, to your knowledge or belief, whose 
 admiration and sympathy, perhaps, for young 
 Mrs. Appleton, may have led to deeper feeling 
 on his part at least?" 
 
 He was all the detective now, cool, inscrutable, 
 with a compelling firmness in his tones; and the 
 other realized that the note of confidential friend- 
 liness, which for a moment had persuaded him to 
 lower his own guard of reserve, was gone. 
 
 "There may be such a one, or more than one, 
 as the problematical person of whom you speak, 
 Mr. Gaunt. There may be one among the number 
 who were welcome guests in her house, who realized 
 her unhappiness, and recognized the beauty of her 
 simple, childlike nature. But, if such a person 
 exists, rest assured that he appreciates her stanch- 
 ness, her loyalty, her innate purity, and he would 
 be a cad indeed, if he'd ever allowed any thought 
 other than that of the most disinterested compas- 
 sion and highest friendship and honor to enter 
 his mind in connection with her." 
 
 "Thanl: you, Mr. Force. You have answered 
 me. And, now, it is late, I know I will not 
 detain you longer. Thank you, too, for coming. 
 When next you see Miss Ellerslie, please assure 
 her that I shall hope soon to have good news for 
 her." 
 
 A quick, firm handclasp, a conventional phrase 
 or two, the soft closing of the door, and Gaunt was 
 alone. He sat for long hours in his solitary chair
 
 A NEW TUENING 167 
 
 before the empty hearth, musing. His thoughts 
 could not have been altogether on the problem 
 before him; for, now and then, a faint, almost 
 reminiscent, smile crossed his thin, ascetic face, 
 and once he turned his head quickly, as if at the 
 sound of a soft footfall, or the silken rustle of a 
 gown. And, once, he moved his slim, sensitive 
 fingers lightly over the smooth leather arm of his 
 chair, as if again for an instant his hand rested 
 upon the head of a woman.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 AT HANRAHAN'S SUGGESTION 
 
 INSPECTOR HANRAHAN presented himself at 
 Gaunt's rooms at an early hour, and it was 
 plainly evident, in the exuberance of his 
 handshake and his jubilant tone, that his self-satis- 
 faction of the previous day had increased. 
 
 "You're on the trail, Inspector. I can tell 
 from your manner that you have got the scent." 
 
 "I think I have, sir I think I have. Whatever 
 it leads to, Louis and the butler were right. There's 
 something mysterious been going on that Garret 
 Appleton was concerned with, all right." 
 
 "What did you learn at the inn, last night? 
 Had Mr. Appleton met someone up there for a 
 conference?" 
 
 "He had not. He was too clever for that. He 
 wasn't going to give the chauffeur anything on him, 
 if he could help it. He reached there about half- 
 past twelve, and, after seeing that his chauffeur's 
 wants would be attended to, instead of lunching 
 there, he went into the bar alone, and had a drink, 
 and then beac it out a side door, after looking 
 carefully to see that his man had put the car up, 
 and gone to the chauffeur's dining-room. 
 
 "An assistant bartender and one of the waiters, 
 
 108
 
 169 
 
 who was serving a party on the side porch, saw him 
 go across the fields it's real country up there, 
 you know and disappear in a patch of wood- 
 land to the left. He stayed away until almost 
 three o'clock, and, when he reappeared, there were 
 two men with him; a short stoutish man, and a 
 tall, younger one. That's all the description I 
 could get of them from the waiter who saw them, 
 because they halted at the edge of the field, talked 
 together for a moment, and then Mr. Appleton 
 came straight back to the inn." 
 
 "Did you investigate beyond that patch of wood- 
 land, Inspector," Gaunt asked, thoughtfully. 
 
 "Of course, I did; but it was dark, and I couldn't 
 make out very much. After I found out all I could 
 at the inn, I told the chauffeur of the car I hired 
 to drive around by way of that patch of woods. 
 He found a lane leading to it, after a little trouble, 
 and we came upon a little farmhouse, painted 
 white, or light yellow. I went in an asked for 
 some water for the engine, and found out that a 
 stolid old English couple, named Crabtree, lived 
 there quite alone, and there isn't any other house 
 for a long distance around; but back of their place 
 is a short cut that leads into the Boston Post Road, 
 near Greenwich." 
 
 "Did you learn anything else at the inn?" 
 
 "Only that, wherever Mr. Appleton had been, 
 he hadn't had any lunch, and he hadn't time 
 to get any there. He bolted down a couple of
 
 170 AT ONE-THIETY 
 
 sandwiches and another drink, while his chauffeur 
 was bringing the car around, and they must have 
 exceeded the speed limit going back to town, for, 
 by the butler's testimony, he reached his own 
 house at five or a little after." 
 
 "And the other end of the string the men you 
 sent down to Jersey, to the farm-house near New 
 Brunswick? What have you heard from them?'* 
 
 "Well, they ran up against a snag; but it's a 
 significant one. A middle-aged couple lived there, 
 a man and his wife, named Smith; but they have 
 gone, and the house is deserted. They left about 
 two weeks ago. They'd been living there for 
 nearly four years. Their last year's lease had 
 still about seven months to run, and they went 
 unexpectedly, in a great hurry. 
 
 "My men got their information from the neigh- 
 bors around. It seems this Smith rented the place 
 from his next-door neighbor, who had a great big 
 farm. The Smith's place was little and mean, and 
 they paid only ten dollars a month for it. They 
 seemed to be very poor, but far above the class 
 around them more like gentlefolks, down on their 
 luck. That's all my men could find out. They 
 didn't leave any address, or tell anyone where they 
 were going, and they took only their trunks with 
 them. The furniture just a few cheap sticks 
 which they brought with them when they came 
 they left standing in the house, I understand; so 
 that looks as if they expected to come back.
 
 AT HANRAHAN'S SUGGESTION 171 
 
 "I think Fll run down myself, this afternoon, 
 and have a look around; but I guess what you call 
 the other end of the string is the best chance. 
 I'll get back to that inn tomorrow in the day- 
 light, and see if I can't find some trace of those 
 two men, or someone who saw them come in an 
 automobile or carriage, and remembers the direc- 
 tion." 
 
 "Have you any theory to fit the facts, Inspec- 
 tor?" asked the detective, with quiet humor. 
 
 The Inspector shifted rather uneasily. 
 
 "Well, sir, I haven't much to go on. But why 
 should he have gone to that out-of-the-way hole 
 in Jersey to have an interview with a perfectly 
 respectable, middle-aged couple, who'd lived there 
 four years; and then, a week later, they up and dis- 
 appear? Then, on the very day before his death, 
 he goes to another quiet spot in the country, and 
 meets two men for a talk. If it's business, why 
 don't they come to his office? If it's a family mat- 
 ter, why not see him in his home openly? There's 
 a nigger in the woodpile, somewhere. It looks 
 like blackmail to me. That's my theory black- 
 mail. They were getting money out of him for 
 something, I'm pretty sure." 
 
 "You haven't any r^roof of that from what you 
 have told me," 
 
 "Haven't I? Didn't he pay that couple in Jersey 
 \o get out of the way, and get out quick? And 
 he was murdered within a few hours after his inter-
 
 172 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 view with the two men maybe he refused to give 
 them any money; maybe he was tired of being 
 bled, and told them so, and they took their revenge. 
 I know it sounds like a Fourteenth Street melo- 
 drama, Mr. Gaunt; but, nevertheless, it's happen- 
 ing every day in real life, as you and I both know, 
 and the police records can show. Anyway, I'm 
 off to look up that Jersey couple." 
 
 When Inspector Hanrahan had departed, Gaunt 
 took his watch from his pocket a curious affair 
 it was, made without a crystal, with strong hands 
 and raised numerals, and the detective's fingers 
 played delicately across the open face. It was 
 just past eleven. Saunders could get him up to 
 the Rocky Point Inn in good time for lunch. He 
 would change places with the Inspector, who was 
 going to Jersey, and the following day, when the 
 police official went to the inn, Gaunt would, in 
 turn, visit that empty farm-house near New 
 Brunswick, and learn what he could of the couple 
 with the significantly ordinary name. 
 
 After ordering the car, he called the Appleton 
 house on the telephone, and, at his request, Miss 
 Ellerslie came to the wire. He learned that young 
 Mrs. Appleton, although still very ill, was resting 
 more quietly, and, although she could not be dis- 
 turbed by an interview for several days, the doctor 
 thought her on the road to a safe and reasonably 
 rapid recovery. 
 
 Jenkins announced the car, and Gaunt was soon
 
 AT HANRAHAN'S SUGGESTION 173 
 
 speeding up Broadway. The air was milder than 
 on the previous day, and gave a hint of the coming 
 Indian summer. The swift run through the warm 
 air was delightful, and the detective listened 
 eagerly to the noises of street life all about him, 
 which gave place, gradually, to the sounds and 
 smells of the country in the autumn; the groaning 
 and creaking of heavily laden produce- and hay- 
 wagons, the odor of drying leaves and ripening 
 grain, and the wine-like scent of crushed and 
 dying grapes. 
 
 They did not drive at breakneck speed, and it 
 was half-past one before the car came to a grind- 
 ing stop on the gravel driveway, before the entrance 
 of the inn. To the head waiter, who came obse- 
 quiously to greet him, Gaunt said: 
 
 "I am lunching alone. I should like a table on 
 the side porch the left side of the house, nearest 
 the door leading from the bar out to the driveway. 
 See that my chauffeur has his luncheon also, 
 please. He will guide me to the table." In a 
 matter-of-fact tone he added: "I am blind." 
 
 When he was seated, the detective asked of the 
 chauffeur, in a low tone: 
 
 "Saunders, is this the table I asked for?" 
 
 "Yes, sir; the nearest table to the door leading 
 from the bar. It's all right, sir." 
 
 "All right. Go and have your own lunch now. 
 I want to start off again in about an hour." 
 
 Because of his inability to tell by the sense of
 
 174 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 touch the denomination of the bills he carried, 
 Gaunt kept them in separate purses, of different 
 sizes, stowed about his pockets, and the indefatig- 
 able Miss Barnes sorted them for him each morn- 
 ing on her arrival. Currency, of course, he could 
 tell; but he found it inconvenient to carry much gold 
 about with him. 
 
 After Saunders had departed, he produced the 
 purse containing the five-dollar notes, and handed 
 one to the head waiter, who was still hovering about. 
 
 "Look here, my man," he said. "Did you know 
 Mr. Garret Appleton by sight? Was he a frequent 
 customer here? You need not be afraid to talk 
 to me I am not a reporter." 
 
 i : The head waiter's fingers closed eagerly over the 
 bill. 
 
 "Yes, sir, I knew him very well, sir. I've heard 
 of his his murder, of course. He was up here 
 just the day before." 
 
 "It's about that last trip of his that I want to 
 ask you some questions. I'm a friend of the family. 
 I understand he didn't lunch here, but went out 
 again almost immediately after arriving, and walked 
 over the fields to that patch of woods." He 
 waved his hand vaguely toward the left. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Did you see him when he returned?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 1 "He was accompanied by two men, wasn't he 
 one short and one tall?"
 
 AT HANRAHAN'S SUGGESTION 175 
 
 "Yes; but only as far as the edge of the field, 
 sir. Then he left them, and came back here to 
 the inn; had a quick bite, and went off in his car." 
 
 "It's too bad that you didn't get a close-enough 
 view of those two men to give me a description of 
 them." 
 
 "But I did, sir. You see, they only went back 
 to the woods. They couldn't have gone far, and 
 they must have been watching; for, directly Mr. 
 Appleton's car was out of sight, they came around 
 by way of the lane I could swear it was the same 
 two, sir and sat down just two tables away from 
 where you are sitting now, and ordered a drink. One 
 was short and quite stout that was the old one. 
 He might have been about forty-five, or fifty; 
 but you can't tell exactly, because he was pale 
 
 and sallow, and looked as if he'd had a long illness, 
 
 )> 
 or or 
 
 "Go on, my man, there is five dollars more in 
 it for you, if you'll tell me everything. What 
 were you going to say then?" 
 
 "Well, of course I don't know who he was, sir, 
 and I haven't any right to speak of it, but, well, 
 I took on a waiter here, once, who had that same 
 queer pallor, and his hair was cropped close. After 
 he'd been here two days, he disappeared with all 
 the hotel silverware he could carry off, and I found 
 out he was an old offender, just out from a long 
 term in prison. 
 
 "That stout little man, here Monday afternoon,
 
 176 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 had the same gray look on his face, although he 
 was mostly bald, and what little hair he had was 
 shaved quite close. It came over me all of a 
 sudden that he might be a jail-bird, too; but I 
 could have kicked myself for a fool, afterward, 
 for he he tipped handsomely, and seemed quite 
 a gentleman. I've heard, sir, that when a prison- 
 er's term is nearly up, they let his hair grow for a 
 while beforehand; but my convict waiter had been 
 pardoned on short notice and maybe if this 
 gentleman had been in prison, too, he might have 
 gotten out unexpected, the same way." 
 
 "And the younger man what about him?" 
 
 "Oh, he was in his twenties, I should say. A 
 dark young man, and tanned as if he'd been out 
 in the open air a lot. They looked alike, for all 
 their difference in size and build; and they must 
 have been father and son, for I heard him call the 
 old man 'Dad." 
 
 "Did you ever see them before?" 
 
 "No, sir." The man hesitated again. "I can't 
 say positive that I have, but the older gentleman's 
 face seemed sort of familiar. Maybe I'd seen 
 him a long while ago, somewhere, and he's changed 
 a lot. I have a good memory for faces a head 
 waiter's got to have and I've been working 
 around New York these thirty years." 
 
 "Did they stay long?" 
 
 "A little short of an hour, sir." 
 
 "What did they order?"
 
 AT HANRAHAN'S SUGGESTION 177 
 
 "Nothing to eat; just drinks a champagne 
 cup for the older gentleman, and plain ginger ale 
 for the younger." 
 
 "That is all. You may get my luncheon now. 
 I'm in a hurry to be off. . . . But wait a minute. 
 How did you hurt your hand?" 
 
 "Cut it badly, sir, carving the other night, when 
 I was in a hurry, and we had a big rush. But 
 how did you " 
 
 "When you placed the silver before me, you used 
 your left hand, and that clumsily, as if you were 
 unaccustomed to it." 
 
 There was the noise and bustle about them of 
 arriving lunch parties, and the head waiter seemed 
 anxious to be about his duties; so Gaunt slipped 
 into the ready hand the other promised bill, and 
 said in a low tone: 
 
 "Send the waiter to me for my luncheon 
 order now, and be sure it is the same one v/ho 
 waited on those two gentlemen, on Monday after- 
 noon." 
 
 "Yes, sir, thank you, sir;" and the head waiter 
 departed. 
 
 After a few moments, there was a deferential 
 cough beside Gaunt, and a voice said: 
 
 "I am the waiter you wanted, sir. Shall I read 
 the menu to you?" 
 
 Evidently, the head waiter had told him of his 
 patron's affliction. 
 
 "Yes; take my order, and then come back."
 
 178 AT ONE-THIETY 
 
 Gaunt indicated a simple luncheon; then, when 
 the waiter returned, said: 
 
 "What's your name?" 
 
 "Henry, sir." 
 
 "Well, Herry, there is a good tip in it for you, 
 if j r ou'll answer my questions. You waited on two 
 gentlemen, Monday afternoon, about well, we'll 
 say about four o'clock, or a little after. You served 
 them champagne cup and ginger ale. Do you 
 remember them?" 
 
 "Yes, sir; quite well, sir." 
 
 "Did you overhear anything they said to each 
 other?" 
 
 "Only a little, sir. They seemed very excited 
 and pleased about something quite as if they 
 were celebrating. But they were mostly quiet 
 when I came around the table, and acted cautious; 
 for, after the older gentleman had had his first 
 pint of wine, and I was bringing them the second, 
 he was talking quite loud, and the younger hushed 
 him up. All I heard was the stout little man say; 
 'Well, I guess we've got him where we want him, 
 Rupert. He will come across all right. Smith 
 has flown, damn him! I beg you pardon, sir 
 * Smith has flown; but Appleton was the main 
 one I meant to get after, any way.' That is all, 
 sir. They didn't stay long after that. The little, 
 stout man paid the bill, and gave me a very good 
 tip, and then they went away, walking off around 
 by the lane."
 
 AT HANRAHAN'S SUGGESTION 179 
 
 "Would you know them again, if you saw them?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "They'd never been in here before, either of 
 them?" 
 
 "Not that I know of, sir. I don't think I waited 
 on them, if they were. But sometimes we have 
 an awful rush, especially in the spring and summer.'* 
 
 "You've been here long?" 
 
 "Going on three years, sir." 
 
 "That is all, Henry. You may get my luncheon 
 now." 
 
 After eating a hasty meal, and bestowing upon 
 the waiter his promised tip, Gaunt entered his car, 
 and told Saunders to drive down the lane, past 
 the, clump of woodland, until he came to a small 
 farm-house. 
 
 In a very few minutes they stopped, and Saun- 
 ders led the detective through the gate, and up a 
 trim little path to the door, upon which he rapped 
 smartly. 
 
 Shuffling steps were heard within; then the 
 door creaked, and a woman's aged, quavering 
 voice asked their business. 
 
 "You are Mrs. Crabtree?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." The woman's accent held a strong 
 hint of the South of England. 
 
 "Where is your husband? I want to speak to 
 him." 
 
 "In the garden, bringing in the pumpkins. If 
 'e'll sit 'e doon 'ere, sir, I will go fetch 'im for 'e."
 
 180 AT ONE-THIETY 
 
 Gaunt seated himself in the chair she offered, 
 and Saunders started back to his machine; but 
 the detective bade him sit on the steps of the 
 little porch, within a few feet of the opened 
 door. 
 
 Presently the shuffling feet were heard returning 
 upon the stony little path, accompanied by a 
 stronger, firmer tread, and a man's voice, old, but 
 more vigorous than the woman's had been, sounded 
 upon his ears. 
 
 "I am Albert Crabtree, sir. 'E wished for to 
 see me?" 
 
 "Yes, Crabtree; I want your record. Oh, you 
 needn't be afraid of me; I am not a police officer, 
 and I will pay you well. How long have you 
 lived here?" 
 
 The old man hesitated, and, in spite of Gaunt's 
 reassurance, his voice took on a note of fear. 
 
 "My record's a clean one, sir. I'm afeered to 
 have no man know it." 
 
 "I'm sure of that, Crabtree. You're English, 
 aren't you?" 
 
 "Yes, sir; we're in this country sixteen years, 
 or more, Lisbeth an' me." 
 
 "How long have you lived in this house?" 
 
 "Coin* on four years, sir." 
 
 Going on four years! The same length of time 
 the couple named Smith had lived in the old Jersey 
 farm-house! 
 
 "Before that you were where?"
 
 AT HANRAHAN'S SUGGESTION 181 
 
 "In New York, sir." 
 
 "What did you do? Had you a trade?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 The old man seemed to hesitate, and the detective 
 asked again: 
 
 "What did you do?" 
 
 "I was a a coachman, sir." 
 
 "Any your wife?" 
 
 There was a touch of pride in the old man's 
 voice as he answered: 
 
 "Lizbeth ben't ever in service since we was 
 married." 
 
 "For whom were you coachman, Crabtree?" 
 
 "When we fust coom over? For the Clintons 
 on Washington Square." 
 
 "And then for whom?" 
 
 There was no answer, and the old man's feet 
 shuffled uneasily on the porch. 
 
 After a long minute, the old woman's quavering 
 voice cried out: 
 
 "Why don't 'e answer, Albert, my man? We've 
 nowt to be ashamed of, and 'e was a kind master 
 always. 
 , " Twas Mr. Mr. Hitchcock, sir." 
 
 Something in the man's voice, no less than his 
 hesitation, made the detective ask quickly: 
 
 "What Mr. Hi;chcock?" 
 
 "Mr. Rupert Hitchcock, sir." 
 
 An illuminating ray of thought flashed over 
 Gaunt's mind.
 
 182 AT ONE-THIETY 
 
 "Not Rupert Hitchcock, of Smith, Hitchcock 
 &. Gregory?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes, sir, and as Lisbeth says, 'There is nought 
 to be ashamed of in that/ For, whatever they 
 said he did, he was a kind gentleman." 
 
 ''Well, Crab tree, I would like to speak to him. 
 Will you tell him so, please?" 
 
 The old wife gave a little, sharp cry, and the 
 man replied uneasily: 
 
 "Tell 'im, sir! 'Ow can I tell 'im, sir? I don't 
 know where 'e is." 
 
 "Oh, yes, you do. He is here in your house, 
 with his son Rupert, Junior." 
 
 "Indeed, an' 'e isn't, sir! Mr. Hitchcock ben't 
 'ere." 
 
 ~"He was here Monday afternoon. A gentle- 
 man called on him, and the three walked away to- 
 gether, and Mr. Hitchcock and his son didn't 
 return until after five." 
 
 After a pause, the old woman said tremblingly: 
 
 "'E better tell the gentleman, Albert. 'E 
 knows, anyway." 
 
 "Well, sir, it can't do Mr. Hitchcock any harm. 
 'E an' Master Rupert came late Sunday night, 
 an' stayed wi' us till Monday night, and the gentle- 
 man came in the afternoon, just as 'e said." 
 
 "Did you expect them Sunday?" 
 
 "No, they just dropped from the clouds, like, 
 and asked if we would put them up for a day. 
 They'd been good to Lisbeth an' me, before
 
 AT HANRAHAN'S SUGGESTION 183 
 
 before Mr. Hitchcock's trouble, sir; an' we was 
 only too glad to do anything we could." 
 
 "At what time did they leave on Monday night?" 
 
 "As soon as it was dark, sir. A fine, big motor 
 car came for them, and took them away." 
 
 "Did Mr. Hitchcock say anything about seeing 
 you again?" 
 
 "Only that 'e'd see us sometime, sir, and 'e 
 gave me twenty dollars, and shook hands wi' us 
 both. 
 
 The detective rose. 
 
 "You can crank up now, Saunders" he said, "and 
 we'll be off." 
 
 Turning to the old man, he held out a bill of the 
 same denomination as those he had tendered the 
 head waiter at the inn. 
 
 Albert Crabtree took it, but in rather a doubt- 
 ful manner, and said hesitatingly: 
 
 "I wouldn't want to take it, sir, if I I'd been 
 'urting Mr. Hitchcock by what I have told 'e." 
 
 "You haven't, Crabtree. You see, I knew it 
 all the time. Nothing can harm Mr. Hitchcock, 
 now; he is as free as any of us.'" 
 
 The old woman, divining Gaunt's affliction, 
 guided him down the path. Half-way to the car, 
 she allowed a slight groan to escape her, and he 
 turned sympathetically to her. 
 
 "Has it been very bad, this winter?" 
 
 She looked at him, startled. 
 
 "What, sir? My rheumatism you mean? It
 
 184 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 'as been bad; but one must expect things when 
 one gets on in years. Tis in my left leg, sir." 
 
 "Yes, I heard you drag your left foot a little. 
 That was why I asked. I hope it will be better. 
 . . . Good-day, Mrs. Crabtree." 
 
 In the car, as he rolled swiftly cityward, the 
 amazing revelations of the afternoon pounded un- 
 ceasingly in Gaunt's brain. Rupert Hitchcock! 
 The man who had wrecked the powerful Wall 
 Street firm of Smith, Hitchcock V. Gregory, of 
 which he was junior partner, and who had been 
 sentenced to seven years in prison for the mis- 
 appropriation of funds! 
 
 What connection had there been between him 
 and the murdered man? What secret had they 
 shared, what mystery guarded? By some strange 
 stroke of fate, could it be from his hand that the 
 bullet had sped to the heart of Garret Appleton?
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 DEVIOUS WAYS 
 
 night's reflections served to alter Gaunt's 
 plans for the next day, and, at as early 
 an hour as he conventionally could, he 
 stepped from his motor at the door of the Blen- 
 heim, and was guided to Mrs. Finlay Appleton's 
 apartments. That lady, mindful that his afflic- 
 tion prevented a betrayal of her early-morning 
 appearance, received him without delay, and all 
 but inundated him under a storm of anxious 
 queries. When the eager flow of questioning had 
 abated somewhat, the detective ventured to speak: 
 
 "Please, please, my dear Mrs. Appleton! You 
 must believe that I appreciate, in part at least, 
 your feeling as a mother, in so heartrending an 
 affair as this, and I am doing my utmost to shorten 
 the suspense and horror of the situation for you; 
 but you really must have patience. Remember 
 that the picked men of the detective squad of the 
 police force are working night and day, also, on 
 this case, and, although many clues have been 
 unearthed, it is too soon to expect anything defin- 
 ite. Such an affair as this cannot be brought to 
 a conclusion in a day." 
 
 "I most heartily wish it were not necessary for 
 
 185
 
 186 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 the police to be concerned at least, until the man 
 who killed my poor boy is caught!" returned the 
 elderly lady, asperity struggling with grief in her 
 tones. "That Inspector person Hanrahan, I be- 
 lieve his name is called upon me yesterday after- 
 noon, and asked me the most preposterous and 
 unbelievably impertinent questions about .Garret 
 quite as if he suspected him of having some 
 disgraceful secret in his past! As if my son could 
 have any secret from his mother! The man's 
 impudence was astounding, and I told him so, 
 and soon sent him about his business!" 
 
 The detective's face relaxed ever so slightly. He 
 could imagine the result of Inspector Hanrahan's 
 impolite visit. 
 
 "It was a terrible experience, Mr. Gaunt; abso- 
 lute torture, coming, as it did, immediately after 
 my poor son's burial!" 
 
 "I read of the funeral in the papers, this morn- 
 ing," the detective remarked. 
 
 "It was terrible terrible!" she cried. "My 
 husband would have turned in his grave, had he 
 known! The horrible crowds, Mr. Gaunt the 
 horrible, gaping, staring crowds! In spite of the 
 cordons of police, they pressed in upon us on all 
 sides, turning our grief into a sort of hideous public 
 holiday! The last service which could be rendered 
 my poor boy was robbed of all solemnity, all 
 sacredness, by that mob of morbid, heartlessly 
 curious people."
 
 DEVIOUS WAYS 187 
 
 "Indeed, you have my sympathy, Mrs. Apple- 
 ton. I wish with all my heart that you and yours 
 could have been spared that; but it is inevitably 
 a part of such a tragedy as this. I am sure the 
 police did all in their power to protect you 
 
 "Perhaps they did. But, as to discovering the 
 murderer of my son, I have no faith in them. Yates 
 and I rely entirely upon you." 
 
 "I trust that I shall not disappoint you. But, 
 Mrs. Appleton, I did not come here to distress or 
 annoy you, I assure you. A little matter has 
 turned up, which I should like some information 
 about. Mr. Garret Appleton's fortune was not 
 entirely in real estate, was it?" 
 
 "No," she replied, in evident surspise. "He 
 held stocks and bonds, and traded quite a little 
 in them, I believe." 
 
 "Can you tell me who his brokers were?" 
 
 "Palmer and Leach, on Broad Street." 
 
 "Have they been his brokers for a long time?" 
 
 Mrs. Appleton paused, as if trying to recall to 
 her memory that which he had asked of her; but 
 he detected a slight quickening of her audible 
 breathing, and the dry rustle of her hands stirring 
 in the silken lap of her morning-robe. 
 
 "Really, I don't remember, exactly. For a 
 year or two prior to his marriage, I think." 
 
 "And, before that, who were his brokers?" The 
 nervous, annoyed stirring became more apparent 
 in the stillness of the room. "Was the firm, by any
 
 188 AT ONE-THIETY 
 
 chance, Smith, Hitchcock V. Gregory?" he per- 
 sisted. 
 
 "I I believe it was!" came faintly from the 
 thin, compressed lips. 
 
 "Ah! A most unfortunate failure!" commented 
 the detective. "I remember my secretary reading 
 of it to me, at the time. There were only two 
 members of the firm, were there not only the 
 man Smith, and Rupert Hitchcock? If my memory 
 serves me, the name Gregory was merely retained 
 to keep the title of the firm intact. I believe Mr. 
 Gregory died many years ago." 
 
 "Really, I cannot say," murmured Mrs. Apple- 
 ton, somewhat coldly. "I remember something 
 about a failure, of course; but I know very little 
 of affairs of finance." 
 
 "I trust your son didn't lose by it," the de- 
 tective remarked, and paused for a moment before 
 continuing. "It was one of the worst failures 
 the Street has ever known, and hundreds went 
 down in the crash." 
 
 "My son was a very astute business man, Mr. 
 Gaunt, and a very reticent one. If he lost very 
 much in the failure of the firm with whom he 
 traded, he said nothing of it, to me at least. He 
 seldom discussed business matters at home." Her 
 tone was flatly uninterested, and there was a note 
 of finality in it, which Gaunt recognized. 
 
 He rose. 
 
 "Palmer and Leach, I think you said, were the
 
 DEVIOUS WAYS 189 
 
 names of the latest brokers with whom Mr. Apple- 
 ton traded? Thank you very much. I will re- 
 member it. ... Good-morning. I will report to 
 you as soon as anything definite is discovered." 
 
 Mrs. Appleton gave him a limp handshake, and 
 he departed, returning at once to his rooms, where 
 he found Miss Barnes awaiting him. As Jenkins 
 relieved him of his coat and hat, he asked his 
 secretary to get him a number on the telephone. 
 It was that of a man, although not a financier him- 
 self, who was probably the most cordially detested 
 and feared of any man connected with Wall Street. 
 Purporting to be the editor of a so-called finan- 
 cial news-sheet, Jerome Wetmore was in reality 
 a spy, who managed in some seemingly inexplic- 
 able manner to become possessed of the secret 
 plans and operations of the biggest men on the 
 Exchange, and who used them for his own private 
 ends, in a subtle way, which succeeded in keeping 
 him out of the hands of the police, or shared them 
 with others, at a price. No one knew the extent 
 of his resources, or the number or identity of his 
 hirelings in the offices of different magnates; but 
 that they existed was undoubted. On whatever 
 questionable enterprise he was engaged, however, 
 one thing was certain. The man was a walking 
 chronology of events in the financial world, and as 
 such he had not infrequently been of use to Gaunt. 
 
 "Hello, Mr. Wetmore! This is Gaunt Damon 
 Gaunt," the detective announced. "Have you a
 
 190 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 few minutes to spare for me? I want some in- 
 formation." 
 
 "Surest thing you know!" came in short, quick 
 accents over the 'phone. "Always time for you, 
 Gaunt. What is it?" 
 
 "Can you reply freely, without fear of being 
 overheard mention names if necessary?" Gaunt 
 asked, cautiously. 
 
 There was a chuckle at the other end of the wire. 
 
 "I should hope so! This office is a padded 
 cell. If it weren't, I might have been a fit sub- 
 ject for you, long ago!" Mr. Wetmore returned, 
 frankly. Then he added: "What can I do for 
 you?" 
 
 "Tell me all you can of the Smith, Hitchcock 
 V. Gregory failure, four years ago." 
 
 A low whistle sounded in the detective's ear. 
 
 "Now you're talkin'! Whatever started you on 
 that? Wait a minute hold the wire." 
 
 There was a faint resounding jar, as of the re- 
 ceiver being hastily thumped down upon the desk, 
 and then silence, while the detective waited pa- 
 tiently. At length, when several minutes had passed, 
 k he heard the voice of his informant again: 
 
 "You there, Gaunt?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I looked it up, to be sure of the facts. There 
 wasn't any Gregory in the firm; only Smith and 
 Hitchcock. Gregory'd been dead fifteen years. 
 They failed four years ago next January, on the
 
 DEVIOUS WAYS 191 
 
 twenty-seventh, for seventeen hundred thousand 
 dollars, in round figures. Only four hundred 
 thousand was recovered, or could be accounted 
 for. Smith showed a clean sheet. He'd been a 
 very sick man, and had traveled in Europe for 
 eight months prior to the failure, leaving every- 
 thing in his partner's hands, and the books of the 
 firm were straight as a string up to his departure. 
 Of course, he was technically guilty with his partner, 
 Hitchcock, of the misappropriation of funds, and 
 all that; but he came home at once when the failure 
 was announced, and made what restitution he 
 could. He and his wife put every dollar they had 
 in the world into the hands of the receivers coun- 
 try place, town house, automobiles, his wife's 
 jewels, even her heirlooms, wedding-presents, and 
 her own little private fortune, which she'd had 
 before they were married. In view of that, and 
 the fact that the doctor and nurses, who'd traveled 
 with him, testified that he'd been permitted, be- 
 cause of the state of his health, to receive no busi- 
 ness letters or cables while in Europe, not even to 
 glance at a newspaper, his lawyers got him off in 
 some way released on his own recognizance, or 
 something like that. Clever lawyers he had, 
 Reilly and Fitzhugh. I guess his physical condi- 
 tion had something to do with it, too he wouldn't 
 have lasted two months behind bars. A lot of 
 sympathy was expressed for him. A man can't 
 start life over ^again at his age, with death star-
 
 192 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 ing him in the face, and not a cent to fall back 
 on." 
 
 He paused, and a faint rustle of papers sounded 
 in the detective's ears, as if Mr. Wetmore was 
 looking up fresh data. 
 
 "Do you know what became of him?" Gaunt 
 asked. 
 
 "Can't say positively. He dropped out of sight; 
 but I heard somewhere that his friends helped him 
 temporarily. The police must have kept track 
 of him, to see if by any chance he unearthed any 
 of that million, or more, that disappeared at the 
 time of the failure. But I guess he was straight 
 enough; for, the last I heard, he and his wife were 
 living in sheer poverty, somewhere in Jersey. 
 So much for him. You know, yourself, about the 
 other one, Hitchcock, don't you ? " 
 
 "Convicted and sent to prison, wasn't he?" 
 The detective's voice was a triumph of studied 
 carelessness. 
 
 "Yes, for seven years. But I read in the paper 
 the other day that he'd been pardoned, because 
 of his health. Haven't heard anything of him, 
 though. 'Tisn't likely he'd show up down here, 
 any way. I've got a list here of their biggest 
 customers: Bender, Matthews, Samuelson, Houck 
 I'll send it up to you." 
 
 "Thanks, I wish you would." Gaunt prepared 
 to add a phrase in pursuance of his line of thought, 
 when a yell of amazement over the wire cut him short.
 
 DEVIOUS WAYS 193 
 
 "Say! Look here! That chap who was murdered 
 the other day, Garret Appleton, was one of their 
 heaviest traders! What do you know about that?" 
 And then, before the detective could speak, Wet- 
 more added, in mounting excitement: "I read in 
 the papers that you were on that case, Gaunt! I 
 believe that's why you called me up! What's 
 the connection, anyway? By Gad! anything 
 to do with Hitchcock getting out of Sing Sing just 
 at the same time? What the dev " 
 
 "No no!" Gaunt laughed easily. "You're way 
 off, Mr. Wetmore. It's true enough that I'm 
 handling the Appleton affair or trying to but 
 I've got a lot more on hand, besides. Some of them 
 are civil cases financial, you know. I wanted 
 the inside details of the Smith, Hitchcock V. Gregory 
 failure purely as a side issue on one of them. 
 By the way, did you know either of the two re- 
 maining partners?" 
 
 "Knew 'em both Smith better than Hitchcock, 
 though." 
 
 "What was Hitchcock like?" 
 
 "Little, fat man, about forty-five; dressed like 
 a sport; high liver, good fellow you know the 
 type. Widower with one son at college, when 
 the crash came." 
 
 "And Smith?" 
 
 "Oh, Smith was just the opposite. Tall and 
 grave and dignified; no sport at all; director in 
 a lot of banks, vestryman of the church that
 
 194 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 sort. He had a funny walk, come to think of it. 
 Dragged one foot behind him hurt in a runaway 
 accident, I believe." 
 
 "What was his full name? Oh, but, of course, 
 I can look that up. I needn't take any more of 
 your time, Mr. Wetmore." 
 
 "That's all right; I know it like my own. It 
 was James Arbuckle Smith." 
 
 "Thanks very much. I'm glad you could give 
 me the details. It's saved me a lot of time; although 
 I'm afraid it's taken yours. . . . By the way, 
 Mr. Wetmore, why don't you have that office 
 clock of yours fixed ? " 
 
 "Clock! What's the matter with it?" 
 
 "I just heard it strike eleven, and it isn't a quar- 
 ter of the hour yet, for my own clock here on the 
 mantel always whirs at the quarters." 
 
 "You're too sharp for me, Gaunt. I'm glad 
 you're not working on a case against me. Let me 
 know when you are going to start investigating 
 me, and I'll take to the woods." 
 
 Both men laughed, and Gaunt called: 
 
 "Well, don't forget to send me that list of the 
 firm's customers. . . . Good-by." And he reso- 
 lutely hung up the receiver. 
 
 "Miss Barnes," he continued, turning to his 
 secretary, "there's a pile of letters there nothing 
 important, I think; but you'd better answer them 
 today, please. I've got to take a run out in the 
 country."
 
 DEVIOUS WAYS 195 
 
 He pressed the bell, and, when Jenkins appeared, 
 asked: 
 
 "Is Saunders waiting outside with the car?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Get my coat and hat, and tell the cook to put 
 up a lunch for Saunders and me, with hot coffee 
 in the vacuum bottle, right away." 
 
 In a few moments, the simple preparations were 
 made, and they started down-town, headed for the 
 Battery and the Staten Island Ferry. Gaunt 
 wished to take the same route as Garret Apple- 
 ton had, in his nocturnal visit of three weeks be- 
 fore, to that little farm-house near New Bruns- 
 wick. Saunders knew the roads well, and they 
 skimmed through Staten Island, then over the 
 ferry to Perth Amboy. Out in the real country 
 once more, they paused by the roadside, master 
 and man, and ate their luncheon together with? 
 great satisfaction. Then on again, until they 
 passed through the sleepy little village of Metuchert 
 and beyond its farther outskirts. 
 
 "Go on about a quarter of a mile, then stop at 
 the first house, and ask if the people within know 
 where the Smiths lived the James A. Smiths. 
 If they can't tell you, drive on another quarter of 
 a mile, and ask again. Keep on asking until 
 you find someone who can tell you. Then go there."' 
 
 "Very good, sir." 
 
 From the third house, Saunders emerged triumt 
 phant.
 
 196 AT ONE-THIETY 
 
 "It's a half-mile down the road, sir; the fifth 
 house from here on the left?" 
 
 "All right. Go ahead." 
 
 Saunders drove slowly, and finally brought 'the 
 car to a stop. 
 
 "Well, sir," he said, rather doubtfully, "I'm 
 sure this is the house the man told me. I counted 
 straight, coming along. But it can't be, because 
 its all closed up, and looks deserted." 
 
 "That is the house, I think. What is on each 
 side of it?" 
 
 "Corn-field on the left, and a big white farm- 
 house, with red barns and stables set away back 
 from the road, on the right. 'Cross the way, 
 nothin' but cow-pasture an' fields, where rows of 
 somethin' green's been growin', as far as you can 
 see." Saunders' lack of enthusiasm over a bucolic 
 existence was evidenced by the tone in which he 
 delivered his description. 
 
 "What is the farm-house like the one right 
 here, which is closed up, I mean?" 
 
 "It's awful little, but real cozy-lookin'," Saunders 
 remarked critically, surveying it. "The yard is 
 full of flowers, and the house has been repainted 
 lately. There's a little bit of a stable, back 
 you could hardly get the car in it and a vegetable 
 garden and two hen-houses. That's about all." 
 
 "Drive up to the big farm, now; the one with 
 the red barns." 
 
 Saunders obeyed, and they were greeted at the
 
 DEVIOUS WAYS 197 
 
 door by a stout, good-natured woman, who vigor- 
 ously silenced the dogs' clamor by assailing 
 them with the broom. 
 
 "The men-folks is all out in the fields, gittin' 
 in the pumpkins an' winter beets. We're reel late 
 with it; but we've been dretful short-handed this 
 fall, an' thank goodness there ain't be'n what you 
 might call an honest frost, yet!" she rattled off, 
 volubly. Then drawing a fresh breath, she asked: 
 "Who air you wantin' to see?" 
 
 "The owner of that little farm-house down there," 
 Gaunt replied, pointing vaguely in the direction 
 from which they had come. 
 
 "Silas owns it my husband. I'm Mrs. Horner. 
 Won't you git out, an' set awhile?" The good 
 woman bustled about, setting chairs on the little 
 porch, and emitting an uninterrupted flow of words 
 as she did so. "I'm reel sorry -about the house; 
 but we can't let it. 'Twouldn't be right. The 
 folks that had it have got a lease on it, all paid up 
 in advance for some months to come, an', though 
 they've gone away, they may come back, any 
 time. They've left all their furniture in it, an* 
 put lots of improvements besides." 
 
 Saunders helped his employer from the machine, 
 and guided him to a chair; then, turning to the 
 woman, he laid his hands across his eyes for a 
 moment, significantly. She nodded in quick, com- 
 passionate comprehension, and disappeared sud- 
 denly into the house, to reappear almost at once
 
 198 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 with a tray, on which were two glasses and a brim- 
 ming pitcher of buttermilk. 
 
 "Thought you might be thirsty after your 
 ride," she remarked hospitably, as she poured out 
 a glassful, and thrust it into Gaunt's hand, then 
 turned with the tray to the grinning Saunders. 
 
 "You look 's if you'd come a good ways. I 
 was out in one of them sky-hootin' things once 
 but not any more! We went over a thank-you- 
 ma'am the driver wasn't expectin' we bounced 
 right up in the air! Silas came down on his thumb, 
 an' sprained it, an' I bit my tongue clear through. 
 . . . But about the house 
 
 ' This buttermilk is delicious," remarked Gaunt, 
 wb.) loathed it. "It was kind of you to think of 
 it, Mrs. Horner." 
 
 'I just made butter this mornin," she remarked. 
 "But my cows ain't doin' so well this fall 
 
 "About the house," the detective interrupted,, 
 doggedly. "A man and his wife named Smith 
 lived there, didn't they?" 
 
 "Yes. I declare you're the third party in three 
 days that's been here askin' about them Smiths! 
 It's them you want to know about, an' not the 
 house, a-tall!" 
 
 "It is, Mrs. Horner," Gaunt acknowledged 
 frankly, with his winning smile. "My interest 
 in them is a friendly one. I think I knew them 
 years ago, and I wanted to find them again. Was 
 the name James A. Smith?"
 
 DEVIOUS WAYS 199 
 
 "Them's the very people, I expect!" she ex- 
 claimed, her risen suspicious quelled, as much by 
 his manner as his words. 
 
 "Was Mr. Smith tall and thin, and did he walk 
 a little lame, sort of dragging one foot behind 
 him?" the detective continued. 
 
 Mrs. Horner nodded vigorously. 
 
 "That's him! An' Mis' Smith was kinder sickly, 
 :n' wore a false front that a child could see through." 
 ""Yes, yes!" Gaunt cried hastily, while Saunders 
 turned respectfully away, and began to examine 
 his tires with a great show of interest, his shoulders 
 shaking. "They are the people I am looking for. 
 I can't imagine why they went away, or where." 
 
 "No more can Silas an' me," returned the hostess. 
 "Coin' off sudden like that, an' leavin' no address 
 though, to be sure, they didn't have no mail once 
 in a dog's age. We didn't know they was thinkin* 
 of it till the day before they left, when Mr. Smith 
 come up and asked Silas 'bout a. wagon to take 
 them an' their trunks to the station. When I 
 went down to take her the even's milk they 
 bought eggs an' milk an* butter an' chickens from 
 us, an' hams an' sausage-meat in the fall I 
 asked Mis' Smith where they was goin' an' when 
 they'd be home again, an' all she said was: * We've 
 been called away suddenly. I don't know yet 
 when we'll be back.' Their trunks was checked 
 through to New York, Silas says, an' all the way 
 to the station Mis' Smith kep* worryin' 'bout
 
 200 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 missin* the train, an' her husband tryin' to quiet 
 her. 'We ought to have started earlier,' Silas 
 says she kep' sayin'. 'You know, James, what's 
 at stake! If we don't catch this train, we may 
 miss the steamer. So I guess they was goin' 
 somewheres by boat from New York, most likely." 
 
 "When did they leave?" Gaunt asked. 
 
 "Two weeks ago last Wednesday, on the eight 
 o'clock train." 
 
 "It seems strange," the detective commented. 
 "How long have they been living here? I lost 
 track of them a good while ago." 
 
 "Goin' on four years." 
 
 "Did they have many visitors?" 
 
 "No. Mis' Smith's two sisters came out from 
 the city once in a great while, an' twice in the last 
 few months, a man come out in a big automobile, 
 like your'n, to see Mr. Smith." 
 
 "When was the last time he came?" 
 
 "Just a week before they left. I guess they 
 was city folks themselves, afore they come out 
 here; for they didn't know much about the coun- 
 try, leastways livin' like this. Seems 's if they 
 must 've been reel wealthy, an' lost their money; 
 for Mis' Smith didn't know a thing about house- 
 work, an' never could learn, no more than Mr. 
 Smith could do gardenin'. My niece, Ellen Louise 
 that's over to Trenton now, takin' a course in a 
 business college used to run down every day, 
 an' clean up, an' cook their dinner for 'em, an*
 
 DEVIOUS WAYS 201 
 
 they had one of Silas's hired hands twice a week 
 to look after their vegetable garden. Mis' Smith 
 learned, though, to tend her flowers reel nice, an* 
 she loved 'em." 
 
 "You love them, too, don't you, Mrs. Horner? 
 But let me tell you that your phlox would be 
 hardier if you would plant a purple and white 
 together in one clump, instead of separating it with 
 dahlias and asters." 
 
 "Good land!" Mrs. Horner pushed back her 
 chair, and stared at him. "I I thought 
 
 "And your path is bordered with them. I 
 could not help smelling them as I came up from my 
 car. . . . But tell me, Mrs. Horner, you say the 
 Smith's put improvements in the house?" 
 
 "Yes. For all they lived so simple an' plain, 
 just like us, they seemed to hev money to spend 
 on anything they wanted. They put a bath- 
 room in when they first come, an' a little engine 
 in the cellar to pump water up to the tank, an* 
 enlarged the porch. Las' spring they painted 
 the house. Mis' Smith had a lovely pianner, 
 an' she played beautiful, an' they had more books 
 than a body could read in a life time. They bought 
 a horse an' rig, too; but they sold it back to Jed 
 Williamson, three days before they left. We 
 might 'a' knowed from that they was goin' away! 
 They was queer in some ways, too; never went 
 to church, or mixed-up in village doin's, but jus* 
 kep' by themselves. Mis' Smith wasn't satis-
 
 202 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 fied, either. Ellen Louise says she was always 
 complainin' to Mr. Smith." 
 
 "Complaining? About what?" asked the detec- 
 tive. 
 
 "About the way they was livin'. Seems 's if 
 they was waitin' for somethin'. Mis' Smith used 
 to say, 'The time seemed so long, an' 'Would it 
 ever end?' an' 'Was it worth it?' Mr. Smith 
 was reel patient with her, Ellen Louise says. He'd 
 say they had to lie low, an' did she want to see him 
 in somebody's shoes? Ellen Louise couldn't catch 
 the name an' it wouldn't be long now, before 
 everythin' would be all right. . . . Queer, ain't 
 it?" 
 
 "It certainly is. I cannot understand it," Gaunt 
 replied, mendaciously. He rose as he spoke. 
 "Well, Mrs. Horner, I must be getting back to the 
 city. I'm sorry not to have seen James. When 
 they come back, tell them that Mr. Baylis John 
 Baylis was here, won't you? And thank you 
 for your hospitality." 
 
 The dogs had gathered about the car, and were 
 vociferating their enthusiastic farewells. 
 
 "You have three large dogs and one small one, 
 haven't you, Mrs. Horner? I should think that 
 great Dane would make a mouthful of the pup." 
 
 "No, they get on reel well. But how in crea- 
 tion you know, Mr. Baylis, beats me." 
 
 "I can tell very easily by their bark, Mrs. Horner. 
 Did you ever notice that the smaller the dog is,
 
 DEVIOUS WAYS 203 
 
 the more high-keyed are its tones? I can tell most 
 breeds of dogs by their bark not only their tones, 
 but their manner of barking; yapping, or baying, 
 or deep growls or little, sharp, hysterical snaps. 
 All except mongrels, of course. . . . Well, good- 
 day, Mrs. Horner." 
 
 "Good-day, Mr. Baylis. You'll come back when 
 the Smiths do?" 
 
 "Yes, yes," Gaunt answered, with a slight 
 smile, "I will come back when the Smiths do." 
 
 Saunders had already cranked up the car, and 
 now assisted Gaunt to it, while Mrs. Horner followed 
 them, with cordial invitations to return. 
 
 On the way home, Gaunt thought: "I must 
 have Miss Barnes look up the steamers, and see 
 which ones left on Wednesday, a fortnight ago, 
 at noon or after, and their destination. . . . So, 
 that end of the string finishes in a knot!"
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE END OF A FALSE SCENT 
 
 THE SULTANIC sailed at noon on the ninth, 
 for Plymouth, Cherbourg, and Southamp- 
 ton; the Prinzes sin Clotilde, at three in 
 the afternoon for the Mediterranean; the Saxonia 
 for Panama, the West Indies, and South America, 
 at four," Miss Barnes announced, in precise tones, 
 the next morning. 
 
 "Humph!" Gaunt remarked. "They know Eu- 
 rope best; but they'd scarcely dare England or 
 France, just yet. The Mediterranean Algiers- 
 Miss Barnes, please call up the South German 
 Lloyd Line, and get the ticket-agent on the wire. 
 There's a chance, of course, that they bought their 
 tickets through an agency; but their names would 
 be on the private record, if not on the published 
 passenger-list, even if they purchased their tickets 
 at the very last moment, which doesn't seem 
 likely, from Mrs. Smith's remarks on the way to 
 the station. If I cannot get a positive description 
 of them, I must wait until the Prinzessin Clotilde 
 docks here again." 
 
 He was in the habit of thinking aloud to Miss 
 
 204
 
 THE END OF A FALSE SCENT 205 
 
 Barnes, who went composedly about her busi- 
 ness, and evidenced not the slightest inclination 
 of having heard, or paid any attention. Now, 
 she put the receiver down upon the desk at his 
 hand. 
 
 "There you are, Mr. Gaunt. The ticket-agent 
 is on the wire." 
 
 "I should like to know, please, if a man and 
 his wife sailed on the Prinzessin Clotilde, two weeks 
 ago last Wednesday, whose initials were J. A. S." 
 
 "Just a moment, please." 
 
 A pause; and then the same voice came over 
 the wire: 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "You are sure?" 
 
 "Perfectly sure. The sailing-list was small. It's 
 early yet for the rush to the southern part of Europe, 
 and not a ticket was sold too late to get the name 
 on the published list." 
 
 "Thank you. . . . Good-by." 
 
 Gaunt proceeded to call up the Blue Star Line, 
 and got the ticket-agent, to whom he put the same 
 question. 
 
 This time the answer was a different one: 
 
 "Yes, sir. Judson A. Smiley and wife sailed 
 on the Saxonia, on the ninth, for Cayenne, French 
 Guiana, first class." 
 
 "Thank you. There are the people I was look- 
 ing, for I think; but I should like to be sure. Did
 
 206 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 you, by any chance, sell them their tickets? But, 
 of course, you would scarcely remember. " 
 
 "Oh, I remember them all right. Mr. Smiley 
 wrote from New Brunswick, New Jersey, inclosing 
 the money for the tickets in bills, not a check, or 
 money-order. I remember particularly, because he 
 told me to send no reply, that they would call for 
 the tickets the morning of the day the steamer 
 sailed. And they did, too, about noon. An oldish 
 couple, and the man limped. Think they're your 
 friends?" 
 
 "I'm sure of it. Thank you. . . . Good-by." 
 
 French Guiana! Somewhere, in one of the few 
 remaining non-extradition states of Central Amer- 
 ica, the couple were hiding themselves with part 
 of the money Smith had managed, somehow, to 
 get his hands on at the time of the failure. Even 
 though Mrs. Smith connived at her husband's 
 guilt, even though she was a sharer in the profits 
 accruing from his treachery, the detective pitied 
 her. 
 
 She had been discontented in her quiet, modest 
 home in America. What was in store for her in her 
 future life among the outcasts of civilization? 
 Their previous intention was plain to him. They 
 had fancied themselves safe for seven years, while 
 the partner, who had been the scapegoat, was in 
 prison. They knew he would not speak, that he 
 expected to share the plunder on his release. Their
 
 THE END OF A FALSE SCENT 207 
 
 intention had been to live quietly, in ostentatious 
 poverty, within easy reach of the law, until all 
 suspicion that they had received any share of the lost 
 seventeen hundred thousand dollars was past and 
 the whole affair forgotten. Then they had meant 
 to go quietly to Europe, and live out the remainder 
 of their lives in peace and plenty. 
 
 But the unexpected and premature pardon of 
 Hkchcock had upset their well-planned scheme, 
 and they had been forced to flee the country. 
 Hitchcock himself had served his time. He had 
 nothing more to fear from the world, and, when he 
 found that he had been swindled out of his share of 
 the proceeds of the fraudulent transaction, he would 
 inevitably have revenged himself upon his partner, 
 who had been equally guilty, by betraying him. 
 
 The detective was beginning to see to the end of 
 this branch of his investigation. That the Smiths 
 had in their possession only a part of the money 
 never accounted for, he felt convinced, and he felt 
 equally sure that he knew who it was that had 
 held the greater portion within his grasp. 
 
 Gaunt reached his rooms in New York, late in 
 the afternoon, and proceeded at once to call up the 
 district attorney, who was, fortunately, an old 
 friend and confrere of his. 
 
 "I say, I want to know something. My secre- 
 tary read an article in the newspaper the other 
 day, which rather interested me. I am on a pri-
 
 208 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 vate case, which goes back indirectly to that Smith, 
 Hitchcock V. Gregory crash, in Wall Street, four 
 years ago. I hear that Hitchcock was pardoned, 
 last week, and is now at liberty." 
 
 "Not pardoned, Gaunt, paroled." 
 
 "Oh, then of course, you know where he is?" 
 
 "Oh, it's no secret. Only, I suppose the poor 
 devil wouldn't want the papers to find out his 
 whereabouts just yet, and send a horde of reporters 
 to worry him. In anticipation of his release, his 
 son brought a small place down near Hempstead, 
 Long Island, and took his father there at once.'.' 
 
 "And he is there now?" Gaunt asked', and 
 smiled rather grimly at the district attorney's 
 reply. 
 
 "Of course. He hasn't left there since he was 
 released, a week ago. I guess he is only too glad 
 of a chance to hide for awhile, and rest until he 
 ':an get his nerve back." 
 
 "All right. Thanks, old man. . . . Good-by." 
 
 He turned to Miss Burns. 
 
 "Will you please call up information, and ask 
 if Rupert Hitchcock, Junior, has a telephone, 
 and, if so, put me on the wire." 
 
 There was a few minutes' pause, and then Miss 
 Barnes announced: 
 
 "Central says they have a telephone; but they 
 don't answer." 
 
 "Ask her to keep ringing them, please."
 
 THE END OF A FALSE SCENT 209 
 
 A long twenty minutes ensued, and still there 
 was no reply. At last, Miss Barnes said: 
 
 "Central says they don't want to answer that 
 they have taken the receiver off the hook and 
 left the 'phone open." 
 
 Gaunt sighed. He had had enough of motor- 
 ing for that day, and his sightless eyes pained 
 from the sting of the wind, mild as it had been; 
 but there was no help for it. 
 
 "Please telephone for Saunders; I'll have to 
 use him again." 
 
 Once more they proceeded down-town, at a 
 fast clip, got another ferry this time to Long 
 Island and were soon speeding out on the turn- 
 pike. The early autumn darkness had long since 
 fallen, and it was with some difficulty, and after 
 several inquiries, that they found the house which 
 they sought a modest dwelling, set well back 
 from the street, behind a clump of screening elms. 
 
 Saunders guided the detective up the steps, and, 
 after repeated and insistent ringing at the bell, 
 the door was at length opened an inch or two, 
 and a man's voice a young voice asked cau- 
 tiously : 
 
 "What is it you wish?" 
 
 "I am Mr. Gaunt Damon Gaunt. If I am 
 right in thinking that I am speaking to the son 
 of Rupert Hitchcock, please tell him that I should 
 like to see him, for a moment."
 
 210 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 "I am sorry that will be impossible ' 
 
 And the door began to close. Gaunt heard it 
 creak, and put his hand against the casing. 
 
 "I am absolutely not connected with the news- 
 papers, or police department. I have news for 
 your father, which I am sure will be of great 
 interest to him, and I may be able to save him 
 much notoriety and some trouble." 
 
 There was a pause, and then the voice said: 
 
 "Wait just a moment, please." 
 
 This time Gaunt allowed the other to close 
 the door very gently, and, after a few minutes, 
 returning steps were heard, and the door opened 
 a little farther. 
 
 "Who is that with you, please, Mr. Gaunt?'* 
 
 "My chauffeur. . . . Saunders, go back and 
 wait in the car." 
 
 Saunders 'retreated, and the young man opened 
 the door wide. 
 
 "Come in," he said. "You see, we accept your 
 word that you are not connected with the press. 
 From the police, my father has nothing to fear." 
 
 Gaunt hesitated and smiled a little, as he said, 
 simply: 
 
 "You will have to guide me, Mr. Hitchcock. 
 I am blind." 
 
 "Ah! I did not know, of course. You will 
 pardon me. Come this way. He led him across 
 a narrow hall, and into a room in which an open
 
 211 
 
 wood fire was burning. Gaunt could hear its 
 cheery crackle, and feel the welcome warmth^ 
 for, with nightfall, the weather had sharpened, 
 and the drive out had been an uncomfortably 
 cold one. 
 
 Young Mr. Hitchcock pulled a soft leather chair 
 within the detective's reach, saying: 
 
 "My father will be with you in a moment." 
 He left the room, and Gaunt seated himself, and 
 held out his hands to the blaze before him. The 
 coming interview might prove to be an extremely 
 difficult one, should the ex-financier prove reti- 
 cent; but the detective thought that he had hit 
 upon a method of inducing him to open his lips. 
 
 Presently, there was the patter of short, rhythmic 
 steps behind him, and a nervously trembling voice 
 asked: 
 
 "You are Mr. Gaunt, the detective, are you not? 
 I have heard of you, of course. My son tells me 
 that you have news for me. I am Rupert Hitch- 
 cock." 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Hitchcock, I have news for you; 
 but it may only be a confirmation of what you 
 already know. I do not know if you have learned 
 that I am investigating the death of Garret Apple- 
 ton. In the course of my work, I came upon 
 the fact of his conference with you, on Monday 
 afternoon, near the Rocky Point Inn, and so, I 
 am bound to tell you, did the police."
 
 212 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 "The police have done thei- worst to me the 
 law has taken its pound of flesh! As you must 
 know, Mr. Gaunt, I have nothing to fear from 
 them." 
 
 "If you can prove an alibi," the detective sug- 
 gested, quietly. 
 
 The other man started nervously. 
 
 "An alibi!" he stammered. 
 
 "For the night following your interview the 
 night of Mr. Appleton's murder." 
 
 "Oh, I can do that, of course, if necessary," 
 Rupert Hitchcock replied, eagerly. "I under- 
 stand from the newspapers that Appleton's 
 murder did not occur until after midnight. My 
 son and I were not alone from nine o'clock in the 
 evening until six the following morning. But, 
 you don't mean, Mr. Gaunt, that I am suspected 
 of his murder?" 
 
 "Not at all. Should it become necessary, how- 
 ever, it's fortunate that you are so well prepared. 
 . . . Mr. Hitchcock, I know, of course, of the 
 failure of your firm and the manner in which it 
 was brought about from the inside; but I do not 
 know all the details. I am afraid that both 
 Smith and Garret Appleton turned traitors to 
 you." 
 
 "They did, curse them and they are both 
 beyond my reach! Smith has disappeared, and 
 Appieton is dead!"
 
 THE END OF A FALSE SCENT 213 
 
 "Do you know where Smith has gone?" 
 
 "No, Mr. Gaunt. I'd give ten years of the rest 
 of my wretched existence to find out." 
 
 "He and his wife sailed from New York on the 
 Saxonia, of the Blue Star Line, for Cayenne, French 
 Guiana, on the ninth of October last." 
 
 "I'll get them!" the other man cried. "I'll 
 get them, if it takes my last cent!" 
 
 "But, if they've gone to one of the non-extra- 
 dition States of Central America the de- 
 tective asked. 
 
 "I'll get them!" Rupert Hitchcock repeated, 
 vehemently. "I'll find them wherever they've 
 gone, and drive them to some place where they can 
 be reached." 
 
 "But you cannot invoke the aid of the law to 
 return you your share of let us say the profits, 
 of your joint transaction." 
 
 "No; but I can give him up to justice. I can 
 put him where I was, make him endure the hell 
 I lived through, for four terrible years." 
 
 "Think of his wife " the detective began, 
 gently. 
 
 But the other man turned upon him, with long 
 pent-up fury: 
 
 "Did he or his wife think of my son, when they 
 made a scapegoat of me, to protect themselves, 
 and robbed me of the money we had saved from 
 the wreck? He's a fine young man, Mr. Gaunt;
 
 214 AT ONE-THIETY 
 
 no unworthy father ever brought a straighter, 
 cleaner, boy into the world. He was at the uni- 
 versity when my trouble came a brilliant stu- 
 dent, popular with his fellows, with a promising 
 career opening before him. Now, his life is wrecked, 
 because of me, and still he does not leave me, or 
 desert me. But, if he had been their son, he would 
 have been held blameless, as they were." 
 
 "How did they succeed in making you the 
 scapegoat, Mr. Hitchcock?" Gaunt asked, sud- 
 denly. 
 
 "Oh, I don't mind telling you I'll tell the whole 
 world now; I've done my time. 
 
 "The firm was on its last legs, although nobody 
 knew it, and we were paying dividends out of the 
 principal, the same old game to keep things going 
 awhile longer. To be sure, we still had nearly 
 two million dollars on our hands; but you know 
 what tremendous blocks of stock we carried, how 
 colossal our operations were. That seventeen hun- 
 dred thousand dollars would be a mere drop in the 
 bucket, when the crash came, and it was coming, 
 inevitably we couldn't save ourselves. It wasn't 
 as if we were a snide curb firm, robbing the widows 
 and orphans and farmers of the few pennies they 
 had gathered together. Our customers were men 
 who could afford to lose. We could not; for we 
 would lose our all. 
 
 "We doctored the books for months before Smith
 
 THE END OF A FALSE SCENT 215 
 
 went to Europe, and, somehow, Garret Appleton 
 got onto the fact." 
 
 "Yes, he was a customer of yours, wasn't he?" 
 
 "Heaviest trader we had. I don't know whether 
 you know it, or not, Mr. Gaunt, but he was insane, 
 actually insane, on the subject of money. He 
 spent it, of course, for appearance's sake; but he 
 hoarded all he could, and gloated over it, like a 
 miser. He would have done anything, gone to 
 any lengths, to increase his capital, simply to have 
 it in his possession. 
 
 "When he discovered what we were doing, he 
 offered us an alternative. He would denounce 
 us, or come in with us. Smith's was the master 
 mind; but he lost his nerve, and faked up that 
 trip to Europe for his health. He taught me 
 how to juggle the books; but, though I had the 
 nerve, I didn't have the brains to carry it through, 
 as we had planned. I was to have half of the 
 profits for allowing myself to be made the scape- 
 goat; but I was assured that, if worse came to 
 the worst, I would only be apprehended on a mere 
 technicality, and soon absolved from all blame 
 or suggestion of double-dealing. But, just about 
 that time, the Socialists got in their work, and there 
 was all that outcry against capitalism and the money 
 trust and the iniquities of high finance, and there 
 wasn't a chance for me. 
 
 "Smith egged it on; but I still believed in him,
 
 216 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 and went to prison on his promise to have me 
 quickly released, and to guard my share of the 
 profits of our failure, for me. You know what 
 happened to me, Mr. Gaunt. But, after I was 
 safely out of the way, it was a case of dog eat dog. 
 ( They were afraid of each other; but Smith had <* 
 more to fear, since he was a member of the firm, 
 while nothing could be proved on Appleton. 
 
 "It stands to reason, therefore, that he mulcted 
 Smith of the greater part of the money. In fact, 
 'Appleton admitted as much to my son and me, 
 on Monday afternoon." 
 
 "What occurred, when you were released from 
 prison, Mr. Hitchcock?" j 
 
 \ "I went after Smith, of course. It was easy 
 enough to find out where he lived; but I found 
 I was just too late. He had gone. Then, I got 
 after Appleton. I wrote him, telling him where 
 to meet me, and, when he came cringing, the 
 cur! just as I knew he would I didn't try to 
 blackmail him for a cent. I merely told him I 
 was going to expose him, and he voluntarily offered 
 me half of the twelve hundred thousand dollars he 
 had got his hands on. He was to send it to me 
 the next day, and I believe he would have, had he 
 lived. He was too afraid of exposure. He merited 
 death at my hands, God knows, after the way 
 he had treated me! But I would have been the 
 last person in the world, for the sake of my own
 
 THE END OF A FALSE SCENT 217 
 
 interests, to put a bullet in him that night. You 
 can see that for yourself." 
 
 "Yes, of course, Mr. Hitchcock. That is plain. 
 ... I am glad you have been so frank with me, 
 and, if I find I can do anything for you in return, 
 I shall do so. If Police Inspector Hanrahan should 
 call upon you, however, at any time, about that 
 alibi of yours, I advise you, for your own sake, 
 to see him." 
 
 "Oh, I don't mind seeing him. He hasn't got 
 any evidence against me, and I can prove where 
 I was every minute of Monday night. . . . Be- 
 fore you go, Mr. Gaunt, I want to thank you. 
 You have done a lot for me more than you think! 
 You've told me, at least, where to start my search 
 for Jim Smith, and, when I get him where I want 
 him, you'll know it before a letter from me could 
 reach you." 
 
 " But you'll not be in a hurry about it, Mr. 
 Hitchcock, will you? You'll want time to get 
 your strength back first. If Jim Smith has gone 
 to a non-extradition country, you may be sure 
 he will stay there for a time, at least, and you 
 must recover your strength, after your long con- 
 finement." 
 
 "Oh, I will do, all right. I'll never be well, 
 till I get Jim Smith in my clutches. But what 
 made you think there was anything the matter 
 with me?"
 
 218 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 "Your step drags peculiarly; you had a stroke 
 while in prison didn't you? and you sit all 
 hunched up, with your head bowed over on your 
 chest. I can tell by the constriction of your throat, 
 where your collar compresses it when you speak, 
 and you want to take care of that dry, hacking 
 cough of yours." 
 
 "Central America is good for a cough of that 
 sort," Rupert Hitchcock returned, dryly, as he 
 guided the detective to the door. "Good-night, 
 Mr. Gaunt." 
 
 Gaunt slept all the way home in the car, and 
 arrived cramped and chilled to the bone. It was 
 late, and he meant to retire at once. But a burly 
 figure was sitting in his chair before the hearth, 
 and the odor of Inspector Hanrahan's favorite 
 brand of tobacco rilled the library. 
 
 "Where the deuce have you been, Mr. Gaunt? 
 I've been waiting for you since seven o'clock." 
 
 "Sorry, Inspector; but I have been out in the 
 country interviewing your two friends." 
 
 "My two what?" asked the mystified Inspec- 
 tor. 
 
 "The stout, middle-aged man and the tall, 
 young one, who were talking with Garret Apple- 
 ton, near the Rocky Point Inn, on Monday after- 
 noon." 
 
 "Well, I'm damned!" 
 
 The Inspector seated himself again heavily, and
 
 THE END OF A FALSE SCENT 219 
 
 stared at the tall, thin figure slowly divesting 
 himself of his coat. 
 
 "I suppose you know who he is?" Gaunt pur- 
 sued, with quiet amusement. 
 
 "That I don't! I've not been able to find the 
 slightest trace of them nor of those Smiths, in 
 New Jersey, either!" 
 
 "Well, if you are going after them, you'd better 
 start soon to catch up with them. They are 
 somewhere in the wilds of Central America, by 
 now." 
 
 Gaunt seated himself, filled his pipe, and told 
 the Inspector all that he had learned. The official 
 listened gravely until he had finished; then, after 
 a long pause, he said thoughtfully: 
 
 "It's darned funny, how you can get information 
 out of people, Mr. Gaunt. I didn't find out a thing 
 from the waiter, or head waiter, at that inn, nor 
 the old couple back in the woods, either, although 
 I roared at them like a bull." 
 
 Gaunt smiled, quietly, to himself. 
 
 "Our methods differ, that's all." 
 
 "And as for that woman, down in Jersey that 
 farmer's wife! Good Lord, Mr. Gaunt, she'd talk 
 the legs off an iron pot; but she never says any- 
 thing! She thought I was a book-agent, came to 
 collect on some of that bunch of books the Smiths 
 had, and she chased me off the place, as if I was 
 a stray dog."
 
 220 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 "I understand you called on Mrs. Appletoi\ 
 Thursday afternoon," the detective remarked, blowr 
 ing smoke-wreaths in the air. "Did you get 
 any information?" 
 
 "By George, that woman's a Tartar!" The 
 Inspector brought his heavy hand down with a 
 resounding thwack on his knee. "She is the worst 
 I ever struck in my life, and I've met some she- 
 devils, in my time! ... I say, though," he added, 
 as a sudden thought struck him, "you cannot be 
 sure that the J. A. S. on the passenger-list of the 
 Saxonia is really James Smith." 
 
 "Well, remember, I got a pretty fair description 
 of him, when he called for his tickets at the steam- 
 ship office, and then it was significant, too, that 
 he called himself Judson A. Smiley. That is a 
 mistake people make when they adopt an alias. 
 In ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, they will 
 stick to their own initials heaven alone knows 
 why!" 
 
 "Well, I guess, anyway, the ticket-agent's 
 description cinches them. We'll find out when 
 the Saxonia docks again, if they really sailed on 
 her. So, that puts the Smiths out of the way. 
 Nevertheless, I think I'll get after that alibi of 
 Rupert Hitchcock's tomorrow." 
 
 "Let me know the result, Inspector. I've done 
 you a good turn." 
 
 "Sure, I will; I'll be in tomorrow afternoon."
 
 THE END OF A FALSE SCENT 221 
 
 "And er going to call on Mrs. Finlay Apple- 
 ton? You'll probably find her at home." 
 
 The Inspector threw up his hands, and departed. 
 
 He rose lumberingly to depart; but at the door 
 Gaunt halted him. 
 
 "Have you thought of attempting to trace the 
 jewelry that was taken from the body?" 
 
 "I've had every office and pawnshop within the 
 limits of greater New York fine-combed; for all 
 trace of them, they might be in the bottom of the 
 sea." The detective shrugged. 
 
 "Perhaps they are," he returned, and after the 
 Inspector had taken his departure, Gaunt murmured 
 to himself, that that would be one solution.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 A GLIMMER OF LIGHT 
 
 SUNDAY morning was a quiet one for Gaunt. 
 He slept late, after his fatiguing exertions 
 of the previous day, and lingered luxuriously 
 over' his after-breakfast smoke. In order to leave 
 no stone unturned, he had perforce followed the 
 clue originally unearthed by Inspector Hanrahan, 
 until he had proved conclusively that it had no 
 connection with the case under investigation; 
 but this had been merely routine work. He must 
 wait patiently until young Mrs. Appleton was able 
 to grant him an interview. 
 
 P'or some days, a faint idea had impressed itself 
 insistently on his subconscious mind, born partly 
 of a flash of his rarely developed intuition, and 
 partly from a curious pause in a conversation, 
 which had taken place there in his own library. 
 It seemed the wildest of assumptions, the most 
 improbable that he had ever allowed himself to 
 entertain, and yet there was damning evidence in 
 his possession, of either one of two facts, and they 
 appeared, on profound reflection, to be equally 
 incredible. 
 
 222
 
 A GLIMMER OF LIGHT 223 
 
 Miss Barnes, unless he urgently needed her, 
 did not come to him on Sundays, and he sat in 
 the library, wistfully fingering the pile of volumin- 
 ous newspapers until Jenkins, who was hovering 
 anxiously about him always uneasy when the 
 master was inactive suggested reading them to 
 him. The man seated himself at a respectful 
 distance, and patiently and laboriously droned out 
 the headlines until Gaunt could endure it no 
 longer, and put an end to it by remarking that 
 he had forgotten a telephone message of impor- 
 tance. 
 
 Lifting the receiver from its hook, he called the 
 Appleton house, and, as before, asked for Miss 
 Ellerslie. Her low, sweet voice, vibrating over 
 the wire, thrilled him, as it had ever done, to the 
 very core of his being; but, for the first time, it 
 carried an inexplicable pang to his heart, and the 
 memory of Randolph Force, and their single inter- 
 view, rose in his mind. 
 
 Barbara Ellerslie's voice had lost the note of 
 trembling anxiety, and held a rising gladness and 
 joy, which swept his senses like music, as she told 
 him of her sister's returning strength. 
 
 "It seems wonderful, Mr. .Gaunt!" she was say- 
 ing. "My sister is already better than we had 
 dared hope, and all danger to her, of any sort, is 
 over. The doctor is amazed at her strength and 
 recuperative powers, no less than I am. But
 
 224 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 there seems to be something preying on her mind- 
 something more than the death of her husband, 
 I mean. She is eager to see you, and the doctor 
 thinks, in view of her improved condition, that it 
 .would be better to allow her to do so, and set her 
 mind at rest. If she is as well tomorrow as she 
 seems today, she will be able to see you. Can 
 yoii come in the afternoon?" 
 
 Tomorrow! Tomorrow, then, would see the 
 end of the problem that was wrestling from him all 
 peace of mind, and driving from his thoughts every 
 other consideration. That little Mrs. Appleton 
 held in her slender fingers the key to the mystery, 
 was a conviction which had been growing in his 
 mind since the day of the murder, when, after his 
 last interview with her, he had heard, from with- 
 out the closed door of her room, the half-hysterical, 
 half-delirious, wholly despairing cry, "Barbara! 
 He knows! He knows!" 
 
 That he had not taxed Miss Ellerslie, herself, 
 with his knowledge of that cry, and wrung from her 
 the truth as to at what hour during the previous 
 night Natalie Appleton had been in the room where 
 ; her husband sat, living or dead, was a self-reproach, 
 ' which he strove to excuse on the plea that other 
 and more obvious clues clamored for investiga- 
 tion. But he now made no further attempt to de- 
 ceive himself. He had spared her because he had 
 shrunk instinctively from causing her more pain,
 
 A GLIMMER OF LIGHT 223 
 
 from adding to the burden of her sorrow and anxiety 
 for her sister by any act of his. 
 
 He could not comprehend his own attitude, nor 
 give it a name. Heretofore, on every case that 
 had fallen into his hands, he had invariably been 
 without emotion or personal feeling of any kind, 
 a mere machine. He had pursued the truth re- 
 lentlessly to its ultimate conclusion, without a 
 consciousness of pity or mercy, and had been 
 unmoved by countless scenes of heart-rending grief 
 and tragedy. But the strange, potent charms of 
 this woman nay, more, the inherent beauty of 
 her soul, which his unerring intuition had bared 
 to him at their first meeting had rendered him 
 helpless before it. He was no longer an autom- 
 aton, an instrument of justice. Something deep 
 within him had unfolded, and diffused through 
 all his being a warmth that awakened him into 
 sentient, vibrant life. 
 
 But the first awe of this strange, new emotion, 
 which was all weakness, yet all strength, had at 
 length been superseded by the inflexible sense of 
 duty that had dominated him throughout all his 
 shadowed life. If Barbara Ellerslie must suffer, 
 so had countless other women suffered before her. 
 He must steel himself against her tears, her pleading; 
 against the sound of that low, exquisite voice raised 
 in heart-sickening agony, imploring him to desist, 
 to shirk his duty, and besmirch his honor, for the
 
 226 AT ONE-THIETY 
 
 first time in his career; against that dangerous, 
 maddening appeal to every sensation, every impulse, 
 every leaping desire of his heart! Come what 
 might, the murderer of Garret Appleton must be 
 brought to justice! 
 
 Early in the afternoon, Inspector Hanrahan 
 appeared, true to his promise. He shook hands 
 with the detective, in an abashed way which ill 
 accorded with his self-assurance of the past few days, 
 and betrayed the result of his fruitless errand of 
 the morning, before he spoke. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Gaunt, you were right. That trail's 
 ended. Hitchcock left the Crabtree cottage at 
 half-past seven, Monday night, reached New York 
 a little after nine, picked up a few old friends of 
 his, who'd stuck to him, it seems, through every- 
 thing, and took them out to his son's little house 
 in Hempstead. They all sat up most of the night 
 together not drinking, or carousing, or celebrat- 
 ing, or anything like that; just talking over old 
 times, and planning to give him a lift over the 
 hard places of the future. Sort of a reunion, it 
 was. Three of them are prominent, absolutely 
 reputable business men, and I've seen them all. 
 They swear Hitchcock was in their company from 
 half-past nine on the night of the murder, until 
 six the next morning, when they all went to bed. 
 Now, Appleton was alive for four hours after 
 they claim they met Hitchcock, and it's morally
 
 A GLIMMER OF LIGHT 227 
 
 certain he couldn't have committed the murder 
 after six in the morning. So, that lets him out." 
 
 "And now, what?" asked Gaunt, quietly. 
 
 "Do you know what I think?" the Inspector 
 remarked, very seriously. "I've never admitted 
 this in a case before, even when it's been finally 
 dropped from the police record, but I shouldn't 
 be surprised if this murder was never solved! 
 It's happened before, you know; but there's never 
 been another case like this in the annals of the 
 department; one with so many clues at the start, 
 and all of them leading to nothing!" 
 
 "So we are just back where we started," the 
 detective observed. 
 
 "Yes," Inspector Hanrahan assented, ruefully. 
 "And it'll be a week tomorrow since the mur- 
 der. . . . Say, how about it being a case of suicide, 
 and one of the family, coming on the body by chance, 
 fixed up that little burglary stunt to save the 
 family name from the disgrace, and all that? It'll 
 be a good frame-up for me to send in to head- 
 quarters, anyway, if the truth don't come to light. 
 If only we could find out that one of the family 
 had changed the scenery like that, it'd be plain 
 sailing!" 
 
 "It's not too late yet, you know," remarked 
 Gaunt. "Think of those weeks we worked on 
 the Delamater murders." 
 
 "I know; but there we had somethin' to go
 
 228 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 on or, rather, you did. Here we haven't a 
 thing." 
 
 Jenkins' familiar cough was heard just outside, 
 and then his knock sounded upon the door. 
 
 "Come in!" called the detective. 
 
 "Gentleman to see you, sir." 
 
 Gaunt took the card from the tray, and said: 
 
 "Ask him to wait just a few minutes." 
 
 Inspector Hanrahan comprehended the implied 
 hint, and rose. 
 
 "Well, I'll be getting on," he remarked; and then, 
 eying the card, which the detective held sus- 
 piciously averted, he added: "If you learn any- 
 thing more about this business, you'll let me 
 know? I'm up a tree, and every minute of time 
 counts, now." 
 
 "You'll hear from me if anything turns up," 
 Gaunt reassured him. 
 
 After Inspector Hanrahan had taken his leave, 
 the detective summoned Jenkins again. 
 
 "What name is on this card?" he asked, quickly. 
 
 "Mr. Ran Randolph Force," read Jenkins, 
 finding difficulty in deciphering the English script. 
 
 Randolph Force! Had he come of his own 
 volhion, or because of the importunities of another? 
 At any rate, he would be anxious, nervous, almost 
 distraught, yet concealing his perturbation as well 
 as he could, beneath that iron reserve of his. Yet, 
 he would betray himself. The detective had
 
 A GLIMMER OF LIGHT 229 
 
 learned by experience in many previous cases, 
 that nervousness first manifested itself in the mouth, 
 the dryness of the throat, the thickness of the 
 tongue. Randolph Force would seek to relieve 
 that nervousness. It would induce thirst, and, if 
 a glass of water were handy 
 
 "Ask him to come up, now, and don't interrupt 
 us for anything, unless I ring the bell." 
 
 "Very good, sir." 
 
 "But, first, Jenkins, bring me a glass, a thin, 
 tall glass of water, with one piece of ice in it, about 
 the size oh, of an egg, say, and put it on the cor- 
 ner of the center-table, near the right arm of that 
 big leather chair. . . . That will do. Now, bring 
 him up." 
 
 The detective had not anticipated this call, and 
 yet, gaging the man's character as he had in- 
 stinctively done at their first interview, he felt 
 that it was not wholly inconsistent with his concep- 
 tion. 
 
 He heard their steps approaching, and Jenkins 
 tapped softly, then opened the door. 
 
 "How do you do, Mr. Force?" Gaunt said. "I 
 am glad you have come." 
 
 They shook hands cordially, and the door closed 
 behind Jenkins' retreating figure. Randolph Force 
 started mechanically toward the chair by the fire- 
 place; but the detective stopped him suavely, 
 and motioned to the large arm-chair by the center-
 
 230 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 table. When they had seated themselves, Mr. 
 Force volunteered an explanation of his call. 
 
 "I lunched with Miss Ellerslie today, Mr. 
 Gaunt. She told me of her talk with you over the 
 telephone this morning, and that you were to have 
 an interview with Mrs. Appleton young Mrs. 
 Appleton tomorrow. She suggested my calling 
 this afternoon, to learn what has been going for- 
 ward, if you have discovered anything which is 
 of importance. I need not tell you how anxious 
 we all are to have the mystery of Garret Appleton's 
 death cleared up. The girls do not mean to be 
 impatient; but the uncertainty, the suspense, are 
 almost unbearable." 
 
 "Naturally," replied Gaunt. "Everything is 
 being done that is possible, and you may tell Miss 
 Ellerslie for me that, although I can make no 
 promises, I am sure I shall have definite news for 
 her before long." 
 
 "I am glad of that." Force paused, as if uncer- 
 tain just how to continue, and Gaunt opened a 
 box of cigars that stood upon the center-table. 
 
 "Will you smoke?" 
 
 "Thanks, no. I had a cigar just after luncheon, 
 which was rather stronger than those I am accus- 
 tomed to, and my throat seems dry." The young 
 man coughed rather nervously, as he spoke. "I 
 don't think I'll smoke any more, for awhile." 
 
 "Perhaps some water The detective made a
 
 A GLIMMER OF LIGHT 231 
 
 gesture toward the glass, which stood upon the 
 center-table near his visitor's hand. Then he 
 seated himself, and filled his pipe. "Inspector 
 Hanrahan was here when you arrived that was 
 why I was compelled to keep you waiting for a 
 few moments. He seems quite discouraged. He 
 even went so far as to say to me, in confidence, of 
 course, that the mystery might never be solved." 
 
 Randolph Force leaned forward suddenly in his 
 chair. 
 
 "Well, isn't that just possible, Mr. Gaunt?" 
 
 He was unaware, perhaps, of the abrupt inten- 
 sity in his tones. 
 
 "Everything is possible, Mr. Force. The fact 
 that I have never yet lost a case upon which I was/ 
 engaged I am not boasting, I am stating a fact 
 does not, of course, preclude the possibility of my 
 losing this one; but, unlike the Inspector, I am 
 still full of confidence." 
 
 "You you have found further evidence, per- 
 haps, to go on?" 
 
 The younger man turned suddenly to the table, 
 and, seizing the glass ot water, gulped down half 
 its contents, the ice clinking violently, as the 
 glass shook in his trembling hand. It was the 
 signal for which Gaunt had arranged. 
 
 "I have evidence yes, and proof in abundance, 
 of the minor details. But I will confess to you, 
 Mr. Force, that I still lack the key to the whole
 
 232 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 situation. The rcux of the mystery is still beyond 
 my grasp." 
 
 "It seems like such a useless tragedy, doesn't 
 it?" the younger man ventured. "There doesn't 
 seem to be an atom of motive, and that weak attempt 
 at making it seem like the work of a burglar, an 
 attempt which a mere child could see through, 
 seems to me like the work of a person whose mind 
 was unhinged. I cannot make head or tail of the 
 whole proceeding." 
 
 "Perhaps you have not a detective's instinct," 
 Gaunt replied, quietly. "There are a half-dozen 
 entirely different hypotheses, which would account 
 for every detail that now seems inexplicable to 
 you, Mr. Force, and yet each would seem like the 
 work of a very sane person, indeed, and a very 
 shrewd and crafty one. 
 
 "The inspiration of the rearrangement of the 
 room, hours after Garret Appleton's death, was a 
 clever and daring one; although bunglingly carried 
 out, I admit. But remember that the person who 
 sought to accomplish it was unnerved, working 
 under great stress of grief, or apprehension, and 
 knew the necessity for absolute silence, and the 
 fear of being momentarily discovered at his grim 
 task." 
 
 Randolph Force moved uneasily in his chair, 
 and swallowed audibly. Then, he reached again 
 for the glass of water, sipped a little, and held the
 
 A GLIMMER OF LIGHT 233 
 
 glass in his hand. The tremulous tinkling of the 
 ice must have been noticeable to him, even in his 
 perturbed state; for presently he put his other 
 hand also about the glass, to steady it. 
 { "Mrs. Appleton Miss Ellerslie's sister is very 
 I eager to see you. She can scarcely wait until 
 tomorrow afternoon, Miss Ellerslie says, and is 
 counting the hours. Naturally, the suspense is 
 maddening for her, poor child. She is, of course, 
 wild with anxiety to know who killed Garret, and, 
 although her sister can give her any news you may 
 have for us, I suppose she feels that she must 
 hear from your own lips what has been accom- 
 plished." 
 
 "That may be," the detective said, with quiet 
 intensity. "Or it is possible there is something 
 she wishes to tell me." 
 
 "What could she tell you what does she know?" 
 Again, that quick intensity of tone. "Surely, she 
 told you everything she knew at your last inter- 
 view with her." He gave a short, forced laugh. 
 "Perhaps, poor girl, this thing has preyed upon 
 her mind so much that she has some hallucinations. 
 It may be that she fancies, in her poor, dazed 
 brain, that some insignificant, entirely irrelevant 
 incidents may be of value to you." 
 
 "Miss Ellerslie told me, this morning, that her 
 sister's mind was quite clear." 
 
 "Yes, of course," Randolph Force assented,
 
 234 AT ONE-THIRTYj 
 
 hastily. "It's clear now, you know; but she is 
 frightfully weak, and she was delirious most of 
 last week. In her condition, some phases of her 
 delirium may seem very real to her. They do, 
 often, you know, to a person, after a long illness." 
 
 "Still, there are some questions I should like to 
 ask Mrs. Appleton which I should have asked 
 her immediately after the murder, had her illness 
 not prevented my interviewing her further." 
 
 "Perhaps, Miss Ellerslie could answer them for 
 you or I," began the younger man, quickly; but 
 Gaunt shook his head. 
 i "No; only Mrs. Appleton knows." 
 
 "I see; some personal matters between herself 
 and her late husband, perhaps?" 
 
 "Yes," the detective assented, gravely; "be- 
 tween herself and her late husband." 
 
 "But what have you discovered, Mr. Gaunt 
 those details you referred to? Perhaps, I should 
 not ask; but, then, I am virtually a member of the 
 family, you know, and quite as much interested 
 in the outcome of this terrible affair as they could 
 possibly be." The ice clinked insistently in the 
 glass. 
 
 Gaunt smiled. 
 
 "If I told you, Mr. Force, it would really mean 
 nothing to you. When one has a series of minor 
 facts, but no connecting link between them, they 
 would seem to contradict one another, would seem
 
 A GLIMMER OF LIGHT 235 
 
 to be purely extraneous, unless one has a theory 
 to build on; and theories are dangerous things to 
 handle. I never disclose my theories until I have 
 proved them, and then, you see, they become no 
 longer theories, but facts. . . . Do you know if 
 Miss Ellerslie has seen Mrs. Finlay Appleton, or 
 Mr. Appleton?" 
 
 "At the funeral, of course; and Mrs. Appleton 
 has sent flowers twice to her daughter-in-law, but 
 has not called. Yates called once, or twice, I 
 believe; but Miss Ellerslie was too busy with her 
 sister to see him." 
 
 "Mr. Force," Gaint leaned forward, in his 
 turn, "are you a member of the Patriarchs' Club?" 
 
 "Yes. But I seldom go there. The club has 
 greatly changed in character since I was first a 
 member." 
 
 "How long ago is that?" 
 
 Randolph Force set the glass again upon the 
 table. 
 
 "An active member? For about fifteen years?" 
 The younger man laughed pleasantly. "I was 
 put up for membership the day I was born. My 
 grandfather was one of its founders. The Patri- 
 archs' was one of the most exclusive clubs in the 
 city." 
 
 "How do you mean it has changed in char- 
 acter?" 
 
 " It's become more sporty than conservative. . . .
 
 236 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 Don't think I'm an old fogy, or a prig, Mr. Gaunt. 
 It's only that I like polo better as a game than a 
 gamble, I prefer yacht-racing to watching a horse- 
 race ticker, and I would rather go to the play, or 
 a dance, or stay quietly at home, and read, and 
 wake up with a clear head in the morning, than 
 sit all night in a game with men, half of whom 
 cannot afford to lose, and drink till I cannot see 
 the cards. The Patriarchs', although its roster of 
 members still contains the best and oldest names 
 in New York, has, in my estimation, ceased to be 
 a gentlemen's club." 
 
 "Have you been there lately?" 
 
 "Not in weeks." 
 
 "Indeed! I ask because I wondered if you were 
 there on Monday evening." 
 
 "No. I was at the wedding, with Miss Ellers- 
 lie. My mother and I called for her, and brought 
 her home/' 
 
 Gaunt had succeeded in his purpose. The change 
 of subject, to that of the club, had had the desired 
 effect, and the younger man's nervousness seemed 
 to have dropped from him. Temporarily, he was 
 off his guard. 
 
 "And during the wedding and the reception 
 which, followed, did Miss Ellerslie seem quite as 
 usual? You noticed nothing out of the ordinary 
 in her manner?" 
 
 "Oh, she seemed in brighter spirits than I've
 
 A GLIMMER OF LIGHT 237 
 
 seen her for a long time. She's been worrying 
 about her sister a great deal lately, you know. 
 Only, toward the last He hesitated, and his 
 latent reserve manifested itself again. 
 
 "Toward the last what?" asked the detective, , 
 quickly. 
 
 "I I think she must have overheard something; 
 some idle gossip not meant for her ears. It had 
 distressed her greatly, and she asked to be taken 
 home. She would not tell me what it was that 
 she had heard; but something must have occurred 
 to change her mood so greatly." 
 
 " Gossip! Not about herself, surely?" 
 
 "Certainly not! It must have been about 
 Garret!" Randolph Force spoke hastily, stung by 
 the insinuation in Gaunt's question, as the latter 
 had intended he should be. The young man 
 turned to the table, raised the glass, and drained 
 what little was left of its contents. Then, it 
 slipped from his quivering fingers, and fell crash- 
 ing to the floor, shattered into a thousand bits. 
 
 "Oh, I say I I'm awfully sorry!" 
 
 "It doesn't matter in the least, Mr. Force. . . . 
 What was that you were saying about the gossip 
 Miss Ellerslie heard at the wedding some gossip 
 about Garret Appleton?" But, even as he spoke, 
 he knew that the younger man had realized his 
 mistake the instant he had spoken, and that, 
 now fully on his guard, he would not allow himself
 
 238 AT ONE-THIETT 
 
 to be drawn out upon that subject, and the detective 
 wisely refrained from pursuing it. 
 
 "By the way, you are aware, of course," he went 
 on at once, " that Mr. Appleton traded in Wall Street 
 through the firm of Smith, Hitchcock & Gregory, 
 at the time of their failure, are you not?" 
 
 "I knew that they were formerly his brokers; 
 but I did not know that they were so at the time 
 of the failure," Mr. Force replied, cautiously. 
 
 "You did not, then, hear that he lost very much 
 money when the crash came?" 
 
 "No." The other man's tone was lower, and he 
 moved again uneasily in his chair. 
 
 "Did you, by any chance, hear whispers, rumors, 
 that he had gained, and not lost, by the fail- 
 ure?" 
 
 There was an instant's pause; and then Mr. 
 Force parried, with an attempt at lightness: 
 
 "Oh, there are always whispers and rumors down 
 in the Street. Finance fattens on them." 
 
 "Did you, Mr. Force, hear any such rumors?" 
 persisted Gaunt. 
 
 "I believe I did," the younger man admitted, 
 reluctantly. "There are always a few bad losers, 
 in every kind of a gamble, you know. They may 
 have been disgruntled because the crash did not 
 seem to effect Garret particularly." 
 
 "Did you hear any rumors of crooked dealing 
 on Garret Appleton's part, concerning that failure,
 
 A GLIMMER OF LIGHT 239 
 
 anywhere else besides on the Street? In the 
 clubs, for instance? Think, Mr. Force." 
 
 "I I really don't remember. It is so long 
 ago. Of course, Garret was never very well liked 
 by men, you know. The set into which he could 
 have bought his way would have welcomed him; 
 but he wasn't the buying kind. There was the 
 other class, who threw open their doors to him be- 
 cause of his family, his name. But for himself 
 well, he was never popular. I I think there was 
 some talk, some guarded criticism; but it is scarcely 
 fair to speak of it now, is it?" 
 
 "Do you remember the nature of that criticism?" 
 Gaunt was determined to bring out his point. 
 "Was there any talk of his having been indirectly 
 connected with the failure?" 
 
 "Really, I cannot remember. That would be 
 a dangerous accusation to bring against a man, 
 wouldn't it?" Force glanced at the clock on the 
 mantel. "I didn't know it was so late!" he ex- 
 claimed, in well, but not adequately, feigned 
 surprise. "I have an engagement I must be 
 going on." He rose, and held out his hand hastily, 
 as if eager to be gone. 
 
 "I'm glad you came in, Mr. Force," said Gaunt, 
 rising, and shaking him warmly by the hand. 
 "I've been very much interested in our little talk. 
 Run in whenever you can." 
 
 "I shall be delighted to." Mr. Force had crossed
 
 240 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 to the door, and Gaunt could hear the knob turn- 
 ing beneath his hand, in his anxiety to be safely 
 beyond the reach of any further astute questioning. 
 "You will let us know when, as you said, your 
 theories turn to facts, Mr. Gaunt?" 
 
 "I promise you," returned Gaunt, rather grimly, 
 "that, when they do, you shall know."
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 AT HALF-PAST FOUR IN THE MORNING 
 
 AS he dressed, Gaunt thought over the inter- 
 view of the afternoon. 
 
 Randolph Force had undoubtedly come 
 to find out, if possible, what real progress the de- 
 tective had made toward the discovery of the truth, 
 and his manner had unmistakably suggested that 
 he entertained, for some reason known only to 
 himself, a willingness to have the tragedy sink into 
 oblivion, an eagerness that it should remain un- 
 solved, which was significant. 
 
 He had, however, unwittingly placed in Gaunt's 
 possession a few details, which, in a flash of that 
 rarely developed quality of his that never closing 
 eye of the mind, which so often had served him to 
 far greater purpose than the physical vision of his 
 confreres had revealed to him a new train of 
 thought, a possibility which, vague as it was, and 
 wholly without substantiation, loomed larger as 
 a probability with each passing moment of reflec- 
 tion. 
 
 If there had been rumors in the Street and in 
 clubdom, as Randolph Force had admitted, of 
 
 241
 
 242 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 Garret Appleton's possible connection with, and 
 connivance at, the failure of Smith, Hitchcock 
 & Gregory at the time it occurred, was it not 
 likely that those rumors had been revived by the 
 announcement in the papers of the pardon granted 
 ' to Rupert Hitchcock, and his release? Might those 
 whispers not have been rife in the Patriarchs', 
 on that Monday evening when Yates had gone 
 there to play? If so, it was not wholly improbable 
 that he had chanced to overhear them, and, ex- 
 cited no less by the wine he had been drinking, 
 in his semi-drugged condition, than by the thought 
 of the night's losses, and the maddening problem 
 of how he was to pay them, he had rushed home 
 incontinently, demanded the money from his 
 brother, and, on receiving the usual refusal, ren- 
 dered more insulting by Garret Appleton's mood, 
 had taunted his brother with the tale he had just 
 overheard, had even, perhaps, demanded a price 
 for his silence toward his mother and sister-in- 
 law. 
 
 In that case, it would be small wonder if Garret, 
 flaming into sudden rage, had uttered some un- 
 answerable insult, which had provoked Yates into 
 striking might even have aroused murder in his 
 heart. 
 
 And then, suddenly, Gaunt paused, and the hands 
 which had been arranging his tie dropped to his 
 side, as a swift ray of light darted through his brain.
 
 AT HALF-PAST FOUR IN THE MORNING 243 
 
 In a revealing moment, one phase of the mystery 
 was made clear to him, and he could hr.ve cursed 
 himGcL for his stupidity of the past week. Why 
 had that hypothesis not occurred to him at once? 
 Had his brain become dulled, rusted, that he had 
 not instantly grasped the significance of the chain 
 of events, or had his ears been deaf to the cry of 
 reason, hearing only the low, vibrating music 
 of a woman's voice? 
 
 He determined not to delay, but to put this new 
 theory to the test at once, that very night. With 
 no proof to go upon but the evidence of his in- 
 tuition, he meant to try a supremely daring bluff. 
 If it failed, no more harm would have been done 
 than that one man would consider him a fool 
 incarnate, and, considering the man, he thought 
 he shouid be able to endure that with equanimity. 
 But something told him that he would not fail. 
 
 He dined mechanically, his mind intent upon 
 the coming interview, then ordered his car, and 
 drove arou id to the aprtments of Yates Apple- 
 ton. He found him at home, alone, and sulking. 
 With no interests within himself, no resources 
 save the usual round of restaurants and clubs, 
 the enforced seclusion, which conventional mourn- 
 ing thrust upon him, no less than the notoriety, 
 which the tragedy had cast upon the family, bored 
 him almoct to extinction, and he was seriously 
 contemplating a greater indulgence in cocaine than
 
 244 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 he usually allowed himself, and a consequently 
 early and prolonged sleep, when James announced 
 the arrival of the detective. 
 
 He sprang to his feet, and greeted his unwelcome 
 guest with a nervous assumption of cordiality, 
 and asked eagerly for news 6f progress with the 
 investigation. 
 
 "I have learned much, Mr. Appleton," Gaunt 
 replied, gravely. "But it is to learn more that 
 I am here tonight." 
 
 "I wondered why you hadn't looked me up 
 before," Yates Appleton remarked, with studied 
 carelessness. "I've been hanging round here all 
 week, as I promised you I would, waiting to hear 
 from you and beastly stupid it's been, I can tell 
 you, Mr. Gaunt. I knew you'd let me know if 
 you'd learned anything definite." 
 
 "I have," the detective assured him, still very 
 gravely, turning and facing him directly, as if he 
 could look into his eyes. "Mr. Appleton, you 
 assured me last week that you had been per- 
 fectly frank with me; but I find that you have 
 not." 
 
 "I don't understand what you mean, Mr. 
 Gaunt. Of course, I have been frank with you!" 
 The young man uncrossed his knees, and shrank 
 into his chair so suddenly that it rolled backward 
 a few inches on its casters, heavy as it was. 
 
 "When did you first hear rumors of your brother's
 
 AT HALF-PAST FOUR IN THE MORNING 245 
 
 being on the inside in that Smith, Hitchcock & 
 Gregory failure?" Gaunt shot at him. 
 
 "What!" Yates Appleton exclaimed; but his 
 voice died away in his throat. 
 
 "When did you first hear of it? At the time of 
 the failure or in the Patriarchs' Club, last Mon- 
 day night?" 
 
 The young man. opened his lips; but only a queer, 
 gurgling, strangling sound issued from them. 
 
 "When you taunted your brother with it, at 
 midnight in the den the detective went on, 
 inexorably. But there was no need for him to 
 complete his sentence. The shot had struck home. 
 
 "So Dakers did hear me, after all the lying 
 hound!" Yates Appleton sprang from his chair. 
 "I wouldn't have mentioned it to Garret I guess 
 it was no news to him, anyway; some of the 
 talk must have reached his ears long ago only, 
 I was desperate for money with which to pay my 
 debts, and, when he refused so insolently to help 
 me, it cr.me over me all at once what a fraud he 
 was, what a damned crook, and I let him have 
 it before I thought." 
 
 "And you had heard of it for the first time, 
 at the club that night?" 
 
 "No. Of course not. It had been hinted at 
 on all sid~s at the time of the crash, and some of 
 the talk had come indirectly to my ears; but I' 
 hadn't paid any attention to it. I never gave
 
 246 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 it a moment's thought. When that fellow, Hitch- 
 cock, was pardoned, a week or so ago, the talk 
 all started up again, and I happened to overhear 
 two men discussing it at the club after I'd finished 
 playing on Monday night. I knew my brother 
 better then than I had four years previously, 
 and I realized that that it might be true. Then, 
 I went to get my hat and coat, as I told you 
 wondering how promptly I could take up those 
 chips I'd given at the card-table, when I lost. . . . 
 They were two of the cads I'd been playing with, 
 too, curse them! That made me red, and I rushed 
 home to my brother, determined to get the money 
 from him." 
 
 "And that was when you struck him, when you 
 accused him of being connected with the swindle?" 
 
 "N-no not then." The young man's volubil- 
 ity had suddenly dried at its source. 
 
 "When?" 
 
 "When he replied to my accusation/' 
 
 "What did he say?" 
 
 "He he recalled something I wanted to forget 
 something I've striven for years to live down." 
 
 "What was it?" Then, as the other appeared 
 to hesitate, he added peremptorily: "Come, Mr. 
 Appleton, I must know. This is no time for 
 half-measures." 
 
 "Once, years ago, I was accused wrongfully, 
 of course; that goes without saying of cheating
 
 AT HALF-PAST FOUR IN THE MORNING 247 
 
 at cards, and I didn't knock the man down be- 
 cause oh, because he was bigger than I was! 
 That's all. My brother flung that in my face, 
 and then I I struck him! You know what hap- 
 pened after that." 
 
 "Yes." The detective straightened suddenly in 
 his chair. "You went out, and returned home 
 at about three, and your valet assisted you to 
 bed, and then retired himself. . . . Did you go 
 to sleep, immediately?" 
 
 "I suppose so. I don't remember." Young Mr. 
 Appleton's tones had sunk from passion to mere 
 sullenness; but, at the last question, he glanced 
 furtively at the impassive face of his interrogator, 
 as if some unaccustomed telepathic wave had 
 conveyed to his shrinking mind a premonition 
 of what was to come. 
 
 "When did you wake? Do you know what time 
 it was?" 
 
 "Why, of of course! At half-past six, or there- 
 abouts, when Katie screamed " 
 
 "No no!" Gaunt interrupted, speaking with 
 dangerous quietness. "I mean before that, when 
 iyou wakened, and could not sleep again when you 
 dared use no more cocaine, and went down-stairs, 
 probably for a drink from the decanter, which 
 you knew was in the den, and found your brother's 
 body" 
 
 A snarling scream, like that of a trapped animal,
 
 248 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 rent the air, and cut off the sound of the detective's 
 voice, and then the quick, gasping sobs of a man's 
 hysteria, with a high, thin wail of craven fear run- 
 ning through them, indescribably repulsive to 
 listen to. 
 
 Gaunt waited until the outburst had somewhat 
 spent itself, and then, to make assurance doubly 
 sure, he asked sternly: 
 
 "What are you going to do with them?" 
 
 The sobs gradually grew more faint, and Yates 
 Appleton lay back once more in his chair, broken 
 and exhausted with the storm of emotion, which 
 had swept all thought, all effort, from him, and 
 bared his drug-shattered nerves to the torturing, 
 penetrating, inner gaze of his terrible inquisitor. 
 
 "What do you mean?" he breathed. "Do 
 with what?" 
 
 "The things you took from your brother's body, 
 to make it appear that a burglary had been com- 
 mitted. You could not hide them here; for they 
 would be found, and your guilt be assumed as a 
 foregone conclusion. You would not have dared 
 to keep them much longer, and you don't know 
 how to get rid of them. What are you going to 
 do with them?" 
 
 "I don't know I don't know!" the young man 
 moaned, his head between his hands. "They've 
 been before my eyes day and night, night and day! 
 I didn't want to take them with me. Their very
 
 AT HALF-PAST FOUR IN THE MOENING 249 
 
 touch is loathesome to me; but I couldn't leave 
 them in the den anywhere, for fear, in the ran- 
 sacking the police would give the place, they would 
 be found, and the burglary theory proved a fraud. 
 I did not realize how I bungled it how easily the 
 truth would be discovered." 
 
 "But why did you do it?" Gaunt asked, quite 
 as if he did not know the reason, had not known 
 all, in that illuminating flash of inspiration of a 
 few hours before. "Why did you rearrange the 
 room, and remove your brother's valuables? Why 
 didn't you shout, and arouse the house, and start 
 the search for the slayer?" 
 
 "Oh, can't you understand?" Yates Appleton 
 was eagerly, pathetically anxious to unburden 
 himself of the weight he had carried about with 
 him in silence, for an interminable week. Conceal- 
 ment appeared to be no longer within the range 
 of his thoughts, and he exhibited an almost child- 
 like faith in the belief that Gaunt would recognize 
 the truth, had already recognized it, and that he 
 was safer in the detective's hands than his own. 
 "I was afraid I should be accused of having killed 
 him. The chauffeur knew that I had returned 
 to the house at midnight, remained half an hour, 
 and come out in a towering rage, with my hand all 
 bruised, too. I I must have given Garret a terrific 
 blow. Then, I didn't know who might have seen 
 me enter or leave, or have heard us quarreling.
 
 250 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 As it was, you see, Dakers did hear us. As no 
 one else ever went near the den at night, especially 
 after twelve o'clock, but my brother himself, I 
 was sure that, had I been seen or heard at mid- 
 night, I should be at once accused, when the crime 
 was discovered. 
 
 "Before the chauffeur had an opportunity to 
 hear of the murder, I gave him a hundred dollars 
 to say nothing of my having gone home at twelve 
 the night before, and I've been in terror since, 
 lest he should either come and blackmail me for 
 the rest of my life, or go to the police. When I 
 found out that you knew of my going home like 
 that, and still did not have me arrested, I plucked 
 up a little courage; for I knew you didn't believe 
 me guilty, and, if you didn't, nobody else would 
 be likely to. I was afraid, though, to have you 
 discover that it was I who changed the scene so 
 as to make it look like the result of a robbery; 
 for then you might perhaps think me guilty. . . . 
 I ought to have told you the truth from the first." 
 
 "Suppose you do so now, Mr. Appleton. Tell 
 me the truth, as far as you know it, about last 
 Monday night." 
 
 "Everything that I have told you is the truth, 
 the whole truth, up to half-past four in the morn- 
 
 ing ! : 
 
 'That was when you first awakened?" 
 
 'Yes; or a little before. I tried to sleep; but I
 
 AT HALF-PAST FOUR IN THE MORNING 251 
 
 couldn't; and you were right in saying that I was 
 afraid to use any more cocaine I was! I'd used 
 too much already, the night before, and I felt like 
 the mischief from it, or I should have doped my- 
 - self for fair, and slept it off. I thought a drink 
 would help me; but I had nothing of that sort 
 in my rooms. Then I remembered that decanter 
 in the den, if Garret hadn't emptied it. It was 
 easier to get to than the cellarette in the dining- 
 room, and, besides, Dakers had probably locked 
 that up for the night he is so confoundedly method- 
 ical! There was a night-light burning, of course, 
 and I got up and looked at my watch, which was 
 lying on the dresser. It was half-past four o'clock. 
 I knew then that my brother would either have 
 gone to bed, or be asleep in his chair in the den. 
 That that had happened before, and I knew 
 that, if he was there, he would not hear me his 
 sleep would be too sound " he broke off, with 
 a gulping sob. 
 
 "So you went down?" asked Gaunt, gently. 
 
 "Yes. I put on a robe and a pair of soft slippers, 
 and got down as quietly as I could. The night- 
 lamp was burning in the hall, and I could see, as 
 I drew near it, that the light was still in the den, 
 too. When I reached the door " he faltered, 
 and shuddering, burried his face in his hands. 
 
 "Well, go on, Mr. Appleton. I know how 
 difficult it is for you; but we must get this over.
 
 262 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 I want to know every detail. What did yo* 
 see?" 
 
 "Garret Garret was sitting there in his chai; 
 by the library-table; but he wasn't asleep. His 
 eyes were wide open and set, staring horribly straight 
 into mine. He was clutching the arms of his chair, 
 his head was thrown back, and there was the 
 most awful expression of fear fear for his life 
 on his face. Everything whirled around and went 
 black for a minute before my eyes, and I clung 
 to the door-casing to keep from sinking down upon 
 the floor. Then, gradually, things cleared, and 
 I saw that great red stain on Garret's shirt front. 
 The lower drawer of the table was open, and his 
 revolver was lying on the table on the farther 
 side of the table from him. Then I knew that 
 he had been murdered." 
 
 "How was the revolver pointing?" 
 
 "Toward him, just as the one who had fired 
 the shot had laid it down. It couldn't have been 
 suicide; for he must have died instantly. He 
 wouldn't have had time to reach over and place 
 the revolver there; and, even if he had, his his 
 blood would have dripped upon the blotting-pad, 
 w,hich lay on the table. If he'd shot himself, the 
 revolver would have still been clutched in his 
 hand, or dropped to the floor beside him. And 
 then I knew that Garret was too too much of a 
 coward to have taken his own life. For just one
 
 AT HALF-PAST FOUR IN THE MORNING- 253 
 
 moment, I went crazy, I think, and I wondered 
 if I had done it, myself! You see, my mind was 
 still clouded from the effects of the cocaine and the 
 wine I'd been drinking the night before, and I I 
 couldn't remember." 
 
 "Then sanity returned to me, partially, at least, 
 and I knew I could not have done so terrible a 
 thing. Suddenly, I remembered our quarrel of 
 the night, remembered that my chauffeur alone 
 knew of my return to the house, and that he might 
 admit it to the police. I determined to buy him 
 off. And then the horrible thought struck me: 
 Suppose anyone had seen me, there in the den 
 with my brother, or had heard us quarreling? 
 If they had, and told of it, I would inevitably be 
 arrested on circumstantial evidence; I might per- 
 haps be convicted, might be electrocuted for the 
 murder of my brother!" 
 
 "And then the idea came to you of giving the 
 crime the appearance of having taken place during 
 a burglary, or attempted burglary?" 
 
 "Yes. I opened the window, and, taking a 
 heavy bronze paper-knife from the table, I bent 
 the hasp of the fastening to make it look as if 
 it had been forced. The paper-knife was all twisted 
 out of shape, when I'd finished; so I had to take 
 that away with me, too. I was afraid to leave 
 it there. I've waited every day since for it to be 
 missed, and wondered why it hadn't been; but
 
 254 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 there were so many small articles like it scattered 
 about on the table-top, that I presume whoever 
 cleaned up the den after after it was all over, 
 and the police had finished searching for clues, 
 didn't notice that it was gone. I don't suppose 
 any of the family has gone near that room, since." 
 
 "What did you do after that?" 
 
 M I went back to the table, and broke the re- 
 volver. I found, as I expected, that one car- 
 tridge had been fired; so I reloaded it I knew 
 where the box of cartridges was, in the same drawer 
 in the table, the drawer which was open. I cleaned 
 the revolver, too, as well as I could, with my hand- 
 kerchief, which I afterward burned, here in this 
 grate; but my hands were shaking terribly, and 
 I hadn't any time to lose, so I didn't make a very 
 thorough job of it. It was horrible, working 
 away like that, with the fear every moment of 
 being discovered! I knew that, in the ordinary 
 course of events, no one in the house would be 
 stirring for an hour and a half, or two hours longer; 
 but someone might, by sheer accident, come down, 
 and if I had been found doing what I was doing, 
 , there would be no hope for me!" 
 
 Yates Appleton had risen, as if inaction were 
 a torture, and he was pacing up and down the 
 room, convulsively clasping and unclasping his 
 hands behind his back, his head sunk forward 
 on his chest.
 
 AT HALF-PAST FOUR IN THE MORNING 255 
 
 "You put the revolver back, then?" Gaunt urged 
 kirn on, but quietly, so as not to intrude his own 
 personality any more than could be helped; for the 
 younger man was talking as if to himself, as if 
 communing alone with his own thoughts, living 
 over again in retrospection every detail of that 
 fearful hour. 
 
 "Yes. And I stuffed my handkerchief back in 
 my pocket. It was reeking with oil and with 
 powder. Then then I approached my brother's 
 body. That was the worst of all! He was limp, 
 and cold horribly cold! I took everything of 
 value. I forced myself to remember, to overlook 
 nothing, even the little frat pin, which he would 
 never be without, and which he wore that night, 
 pinned inside his vest-pocket. The vest was of 
 soft white silk, and in my nervousness I could 
 not find the catch of the pin, and jerked it away. 
 I tore the lining of the pocket a little in doing so, 
 and that was how you discovered about it, I guess. 
 Anyhow, when you questioned me, concerning it, 
 in the afternoon, I realized that, in taking it, I 
 had overreached myself; for only someone in- 
 timately connected with Garret would have known 
 about his wearing the pin that way." 
 
 "What did you do with the things as you removed 
 them?" 
 
 "Put them in my pocket, loosely. In getting 
 them, my my hands came in contact with Gar>-
 
 256 AT ONE-THIETY 
 
 ret's blood, and it turned me sick for a moment; 
 then another idea came to me. The blood was 
 thick, and drying in great clots, and I shut my 
 eyes and pressed my hands on the shirtfront, 
 over the wound. Then I rushed over to the win- 
 dow, and smeared the curtains, and the rug before 
 it, to make sure that attention would be directed 
 there. I cleaned my hands as well as I could on 
 the curtains, turned out the light, and, literally, 
 flew to my room. I did not dare take a last look 
 at my poor brother his dead eyes had seemed 
 to be following me about the room accusingly, 
 while I worked, and I was afraid that, if I glanced 
 at him, I should shriek aloud!" 
 
 "What did you do when you regained your 
 room?" 
 
 "I don't know. The reaction came, and I think 
 I went mad for a little while. I remember rolling 
 in mental agony upon my bed, stifling my groans, 
 forcing myself to remember that I must be silent, 
 must make no sound. Then, I grew a little calmer, 
 and realized that I had work to do. I went in 
 the bath-room first, and bathed carefully, then 
 examined my clothes minutely for any traces of 
 blood. There were none, or upon my hands or 
 body, save under my finger-nails, where a little 
 had dried. These I cleaned, and then cleaned 
 the brush thoroughly, too. Then I took the monej 
 and valuables, made them into a tightly rolled
 
 AT HALF-PAST FOUR IN THE MORNING 257 
 
 packet, and, for the time being, I thrust it in the 
 only place I knew my valet, or the housemaid, 
 would not find it the next day far back on the 
 top of the wardrobe. It was there when you 
 questioned, me, in my room. Later, I sent James 
 down-stairs on an errand, took the packet, and 
 thrust it into my pocket. 
 
 "When I got here, after leaving Mother at the 
 Blenheim, I found my friend from whom I had 
 arranged to take over this apartment, waiting to 
 condole with me about the tragedy, and to hand 
 me the keys. I knew there was a safe built on 
 the wall, over there just behind you and I made 
 my friend give me the combination before he left. 
 After he had gone, I got my man, James, out of 
 the room on some pretext, and, opening the safe, 
 I put the packet in there. And what to do with it, 
 I don't know." 
 
 "Mr. Appleton, didn't it occur to you to wonder 
 who actually did kill your brother?" 
 
 "Not until afterward. I know it seems strange; 
 but my brain felt numb, and all I thought of was 
 my own safety. When the burglary subterfuge 
 was so quickly discovered, and the fact that Garret 
 was killed with his own revolver, I felt that I was 
 lost, and I fought, struggled, only for my life. Later 
 in the day, when things quieted down a bit, I began 
 to think of my brother, and how he came to his 
 death. Mr. Gaunt, it is an utter, absolute mystery
 
 258 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 to me believe me or not, as you please. I cannot 
 think, cannot imagine, who could have done this 
 thing! There doesn't seem to be a shadow of mo- 
 tive. I can think of nothing else, and it is driving 
 me mad, mad! For God's sake, if you know, if you 
 suspect, tell me! I cannot endure it much longer!" 
 
 "You must be patient, Mr. Appleton. Think 
 of your brother's wife, of your mother! They are 
 enduring this suspense, too; and they are only 
 women." 
 
 "But they are not carrying around with them 
 the secret that I am the secret of that awful hour 
 early in the morning! Mr. Gaunt, you must help 
 me you must! What shall I do with that packet 
 in the safe with the things I took from my brother's 
 body? If I turn them over to the police, they will 
 arrest me I know that. How can I dispose of 
 them?" 
 
 "If I were you, Mr. Appleton, I should wait 
 until the murderer is apprehended. Then, when 
 his guilt is proved, you can go to your mother and 
 your brother's wife, and tell them the truth. They 
 will believe you then, of course. If, on the other 
 hand, this mystery is never solved," a curious 
 hard note had swept into the detective's voice 
 with the last words, "I should advise you still to 
 go to those two women, and tell them everything, 
 just as you have told me. They will, they must, 
 believe you in time. At any rate, for the sake of
 
 AT HALF-PAST FOUE IN THE MORNING 259 
 
 the family name, they will not denounce you. 
 Give them your brother's valuables, and allow 
 them to make what disposition of them they 
 will." 
 
 "They will never believe me never! Some- 
 thing else must be done with them. I wish they 
 were at the bottom of the sea." 
 
 The Inspector's words returned to Gaunt's mind 
 with a new significance, and he returned, quietly. 
 
 "Then why not place them there, yourself, Mr. 
 Appleton? Go on some short coast trip, and, 
 when you are well out of sight of land, and there 
 is no one to see you, drop the package, properly 
 weighted, overboard. This advice is contrary to 
 justice, as the police interpret it, I know; but I 
 firmly believe you to be innocent of the death of 
 your brother, and there is no use in running your, 
 neck into a noose." 
 
 "Ah, thank you, Mr. Gaunt! That is just what 
 I will do. I should never have thought of it," the 
 other man cried, brokenly. "Thank God, you 
 don't believe me guilty!" 
 
 "The police are all at sea. They have not, so 
 far as I know, a single clue; and they would seize 
 upon anyone, on the slenderest thread of evidence,, 
 It behooves you to be extremely careful." 
 
 "I know; I shall try to be. You you're not 
 going, Mr. Gaunt?" he added, wistfully, as the 
 detective rose. He was as glad of this presence.
 
 260 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 now that he had unburdened himself, as he had 
 previously been in fear of it. 
 
 "I must. It is late, and I have work to do to- 
 morrow. Try a sleeping-powder, some coal-tar 
 product, tonight, instead of that cocaine, and see 
 if you can get a little real rest, or you'll be a wreck. 
 Remember, you may yet need all your nerve and 
 strength." 
 
 "I will, sir," Yates Appleton replied, with the 
 respectful promptitude of a school-boy addressing 
 the master. "Good-night, and thank you thank 
 you!"
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 NATALIE 
 
 DAMON GAUNT would not have been human 
 if he could have helped congratulating 
 himself the next morning on the result of 
 the previous evening's work. Both the shots had 
 told, and, although they had been the result more 
 of intuition, of a subtle guess, than pure reasoning, 
 they had proved to be true to the mark. Then, 
 quite suddenly his mood changed, and he felt 
 disgusted with himself, for his vanity. 
 
 "I'm getting to be as bad as Hanrahan," he 
 thought; "gloating over the little I've done, when 
 the work isn't half-finished. I've only succeeded 
 as yet in cleaning up a few minor details. The 
 great question remains unanswered, the real truth 
 unproved!" 
 
 He had scarcely finished his breakfast, when 
 Jenkins announced that a lady was waiting in the 
 library to see him. She had refused to give her 
 name, but said that her business was most important. 
 Would Mr. Gaunt please see her at once, if possible? 
 
 261
 
 202 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 As the detective opened the door of the library 
 that room heretofore sacred to the odor of to- 
 bacco only a heavy Oriental scent was wafted 
 unmistakably to his nostrils, and he smiled com- 
 prehendingly. The perfume of the Taj Mahal! 
 Could Doris Carhart's presence in his rooms mean 
 further revelations? He had felt that she had 
 not been entirely frank with him at their last 
 interview; but he thought he had read understand- 
 ingly between the lines. What did her visit por- 
 tend? 
 
 He entered, and, hearing a slight rustle, turned 
 in the direction from which it came, holding out 
 his hand, the smile still upon his lips. 
 
 "Good-morning, Miss Carhart," he said. "What 
 can I do for you ? " 
 
 "Mr. Gaunt!" she exclaimed. "How did you 
 know it was I? I gave no name " 
 
 "How did I know you had been in the den at 
 the Appleton's last Monday evening?" he returned. 
 "You undervalue the penetrating power of the 
 scent you use." 
 
 "Ah, that is it, of course!" She sighed in 
 relief. Then, seating herself in the chair he pushed 
 toward her, she went on: "I know you will think 
 it very strange my coming here like this, I mean 
 but I simply had to see you, Mr. Gaunt! Ever
 
 NATALIE 263 
 
 since you called on me last week, I've been thinking 
 things over, and the more I thought, the more 
 I worried. I couldn't sleep at all last night, and 
 at dawn I determined to come to you, and tell 
 you all the truth. For I did not tell you every- 
 thing, last week, Mr. Gaunt I could not!" 
 
 "I knew that you .were not entirely frank with 
 me," remarked the detective. 
 
 "You knew it? Yet you did not go to my father, 
 as you had threatened!" she countered. 
 
 "Because I thought I knew what you were 
 keeping back, and understood the reason why," 
 he replied, quietly. 
 
 "I only kept silent because because it was all 
 past and gone, and there seemed no reason for 
 divulging to anyone that which had been said to 
 me in the most sacred confidence. As long as no 
 one else had known, I determined that no one 
 ever should. It was a disgraceful, ignoble thing; 
 but it came to nothing in the end, and I felt that 
 it should be allowed to die with the man who 
 had conceived it. But, after you had gone, I 
 remembered something, and I wondered if, after 
 all, I had been the only one to hear what he had 
 said." 
 
 "You have come here to be frank with me, 
 Miss Carhart? Then, suppose you tell me the
 
 264 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 whole story." Gaunt drew his chair up closer 
 to hers, and in his voice were the kind, fatherly 
 accents that had drawn from reluctant feminine 
 lips many a more heinous confession than the one 
 trembling on hers. 
 
 "It was all true, as I told you, Mr. Gaunt, that 
 I had been flirting with Garret Appleton, to punish 
 him for marrying someone else. I could not help 
 detesting the woman who had taken the place that 
 was to have been mine, and, when I saw that she 
 suffered, I I was glad ! " She paused for a moment, 
 then went on in a low voice: "But, now, I am 
 sorry oh, so sorry! I would go to her, if I dared, 
 and explain, beg her to forgive me, for the sor- 
 row I brought her. But she would not listen to 
 me it is too late, now! You know, I I had 
 cared greatly for Garret Appleton. I had loved 
 him ever since I was a little girl, and, when, after 
 our foolish quarrel, he married Natalie Ellerslie, 
 it almost broke my heart. I never let him see it, 
 though, and I thought my love for him was a 
 thing of the past. I only wanted to make him 
 to make them both suffer, as I had suffered!" 
 
 Again she paused, as if she found her task in- 
 creasingly difficult to perform; but he said nothing, 
 and she resolutely forced herself to continue. 
 
 "I did not know, did not realize, that I had
 
 NATALIE 265 
 
 carried things too far with Garret, until that night 
 in the den. As I have told you, he did not seem 
 to be quite quite himself, and my fast-approach- 
 ing departure for Europe must have maddened 
 him. While I sat there on the divan, with the 
 curios he had brought me there to see spread out 
 beside me, he suddenly began to speak, in a dif- 
 ferent tone from any that I had ever heard from 
 him a queer, thickened, hurried voice, as if he 
 was himself ashamed of the words he was utter- 
 ing." 
 
 As she stopped again, as if unable to go on, 
 Gaunt leaned forward, and asked in a gentle, 
 but insistent, voice: 
 
 "What did he say to you, Miss Carhart? Please 
 tell me every word that you can remember." 
 
 "I can't remember the words. His voice sounded 
 in my ears as if it came from a great distance, 
 and I seemed to be under a stifling cloud of horror 
 and loathing. I only remember the meaning of 
 the thing he proposed doing. It was an infamous 
 thing, Mr. Gaunt! It is a hideous, black thought, 
 1 which should be buried with him; but you want 
 to know all the truth, and you shall! He told 
 me that he was going to arrange a divorce, that 
 . he might marry me! He said his wife would never 
 consent to free him, especially especially now
 
 266 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 and that the only thing left for him to do was 
 to divorce her, on fabricated proof. He was going 
 to desert her, and the little child that would be 
 theirs, and blacken her name falsely, disgracing 
 her forever in the eyes of the world and for me I 
 He thought that I would step into her place, that 
 I would be his wife over the ashes of her reputation, 
 her honor! 
 
 "I sat there, turning over and over in my hands 
 the foolish, exquisitively carved bits of ivory, 
 trying to force myself to realize that I heard 
 aright, that he was actually proposing this mon- 
 strous thing! At length, when he had finished, 
 I swept the ivories from my knee, and rose. I 
 tried to speak; but somehow I couldn't. I hadn't 
 uttered a word since he had started. Now, all I 
 could think of was to get away, to escape from 
 him forever, from the sight of him and the sound 
 of his voice. I glanced instinctively at the open 
 door of the den and I saw, or fancied I saw, 
 on the wall opposite, in the hall, the faint shadow 
 of a crouching figure, listening." 
 
 "You are not sure of it, then?" asked Gaunt, 
 eagerly. "You are not sure that there actually was 
 someone there?" 
 
 "No, I may have fancied it, as I say; but, some- 
 how, I felt that there was someone out there, listen-
 
 NATALIE 267 
 
 ing, even before I caught a glimpse of the shadow. 
 While I watched it, it wavered, and suddenly dis- 
 appeared, and then then I turned to him. We 
 had no quarrel; he did not accuse me of flirting 
 with him, and leading him on, as I told you he did. 
 Instead, it was I who told him the truth, and 
 why I had done so. Then I told him just how I 
 felt about his vile, contemptible proposition, and 
 how I loathed him for entertaining such a thought. 
 I blamed myself, frankly, for what I had done; 
 but I had meant it only for a mild, discreet flirta- 
 tion, and intended that my departure for Europe 
 should end it all for all time. And he had been 
 planning this infamous thing against that poor 
 little woman up-stairs, who had never done me any 
 intentional harm, as I had her! I told him how 
 low, how terrible, I thought his plan, and how I 
 detested it how I hoped I should never see his 
 face again. He fell back against the table, white 
 and speechless, and I walked straight out of his den 
 and back to my father." 
 
 "Did you see anyone in the hall, or on the stairs, 
 as you went?" 
 
 "No, Mr. Gaunt; no one. Garret followed me 
 in a few minutes, and I knew him well enough to 
 know that he was in one of his silent, white-hot 
 rages. I could not bear to remain in the same
 
 268 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 room where he was; I felt that I could not breathe! 
 I was unspeakably glad when the time came for us 
 to return home." 
 
 "You felt nothing for him then but a passionate 
 loathing?" 
 
 "Nothing. . . . But what I suffered during the 
 long hours of that night, no one can ever know. 
 When morning came, I realized that, without 
 being conscious of it, I must still have cared for 
 him, in spite of his marriage, in spite of everything, 
 without being conscious of it myself. I must 
 have gone on loving him, up to the moment in the 
 den, the night before, when he had disclosed to me 
 the depth of his depravity, when I learned for the 
 first time how dishonorable he was. Had he lived, 
 I would never, never have seen him, have entered 
 his presence again." 
 
 She was silent, and, for a few minutes, there was 
 no sound. 
 
 Then he prompted her, gently." 
 
 "And in the morning, when Marie telephoned 
 to you?" 
 
 "At first, I couldn't realize ijt, any more than I 
 could realize the night before that I had heard 
 him aright. Then, when I knew that he was 
 dead She faltered, and suddenly buried her 
 face in her hands. Then, after a moment, she
 
 NATALIE 269 
 
 lifted her head, and went on, in a low, stifled voice. 
 "My love for him seemed to come back not 
 love for the man I had grown to know in the last 
 three years, the hard, cynical, coarsened man of 
 the world, the husband of another woman but 
 my love for the boy I had first known, the boy 
 I had given my heart to when I was a little 
 
 girl." 
 
 She abruptly ceased speaking, and rose, drawing 
 her furs about her with a little, self-contemptuous 
 laugh, which was half a shudder. 
 
 "That is all," she said. "And now, Mr. Gaunt, 
 if you don't mind, I think I will go. I have told 
 you everything; I have talked to you as I would 
 talk to no other living person. I am glad that we 
 sail on Wednesday. I feel very tired, and very 
 old. I'm not even interested in knowing who 
 killed him, or why. I don't even care. Isn't 
 it funny? I seem to be numb, and dead as dead 
 as he is!" 
 
 "I understand, and, believe me, I am sorry, Miss 
 Carhart." Gaunt's tone was, indeed, deeply moved. 
 She was a thoughtless, rather selfish, spoiled child, 
 nothing more. And he prayed that she might 
 never know what she had done; might never be 
 brought to a realization of the havoc and tragedy 
 she had wrought.
 
 270 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 She held out a little hand, which he could not 
 see, and then, with a pathetic shrug of her shoulders, 
 she dropped her arm limply to her side, and 
 turned to the door. At the threshold, he halted 
 her. 
 
 "I wish you could tell me more about that 
 shadow you saw, or fancied you saw, in the hall, 
 Miss Carhart. You say it looked like a crouching 
 figure. A woman's or a man's?" 
 
 "A woman's, I think," she answered, hesitatingly. 
 "At least, the head appeared to be abnormally 
 large and irregular, as if it was a woman, with her 
 hair puffed out, and she seemed to have on a loose, 
 flowing gown of some sort; but it was all very 
 faint and indistinct." 
 
 "If there was actually a woman listening there 
 in the hall, have you any idea in your own mind, 
 Miss Carhart, as to who she might have been?" 
 he asked gravely, coming slowly toward her. 
 
 She shrank, and, for an instant, made no reply. 
 Then she burst out passionately: 
 
 "Oh, don't ask me that, Mr. Gaunt! In mercy, 
 don't ask me! I have endured all I can! Please, 
 please, let me go." 
 
 "I won't ask you, Miss Carhart. I am grate- 
 ful to you for having come to me as you did. 
 Thank you, and good-by."
 
 NATALIE 271 
 
 She laid her hand hesitatingly in his for a moment, 
 and them slipped quietly away, and from his win- 
 dow he heard the diminishing hum of her motor 
 car. 
 
 He turned away with a sigh. What she had told 
 him was parallel with what he had himself deduced; 
 only he had not believed that Garret Appleton 
 would have gone to such lengths, would have 
 seriously suggested besmirching his wife's character, 
 in order to secure what he felt to be his own happi- 
 ness. 
 
 Doris Carhart's testimony had, in the main, 
 but substantiated the theory against which he had 
 struggled, only to be compelled to allow it to 
 possess him, in the end. He shrank from it, and, 
 for the first time in his career, his duty seemed a 
 hard and cruel thing. But he knew that for him 
 there could be no turning from it. He must dis- 
 cover the truth. 
 
 When he presented himself at the Appleton 
 house, in the early afternoon, Barbara Ellerslie 
 met him in the drawing-room. 
 
 "I am glad you have come," she said quietly, 
 giving him her hand. "My sister has been im- 
 patient all day to see you." 
 
 "She is better? She is able to stand the strain 
 of even a most commonplace interview?" he asked,
 
 272 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 and found himself listening eagerly for her reply, 
 not for the words themselves, but for the madden- 
 ing sweetness of her throbbing tones. 
 
 "Yes. She is very weak still, of course; but I 
 think her mind is quite clear, and she has promised 
 me to try to control herself. But you will be very 
 careful, Mr. Gaunt? You will remember that we 
 have only just succeeded in snatching her back 
 from death or what would be infinitely worse, 
 the loss of her reason?" 
 
 "I will remember," he replied, gravely. 
 
 Turning, she led the way to young Mrs. Apple- 
 ton's room the room where, on that day, almost 
 on that very hour, a week ago, he had left her with 
 that agonized betrayal upon her lips. 
 
 He found her, as before, bolstered up among the 
 soft cushions of her chaise longue, and with an eager 
 cry she gave him her hand. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Gaunt! You have come, at last! 
 They wouldn't let me see you before, and there is 
 so much I must talk over with you!" Her voice 
 was very faint and weak; but the high-pitched, 
 drawling notes reminded him somehow, even more 
 than before, of his sister's richer, more mellow 
 tones, and his heart contracted suddenly within 
 him. 
 
 "I am glad that you are better, Mrs. Appleton,"
 
 NATALIE 273 
 
 he replied, with grave gentleness. There was a 
 portentousness, almost a solemnity, in his voice 
 which made her gaze up quickly, fearfully, into 
 his face. She looked long, and what she read 
 there evidently decided her upon some paramount 
 question, which had troubled or vexed her. For 
 such an instant, her pale, pretty lips trembled 
 childishly, and her gaze wandered wistfully to the 
 sunlight streaming in at the window. She could, 
 from where she lay, just see the tops of the leaf- 
 less trees in the park, and the broad expanse of the 
 blue sky above them. Then, her trembling ceased, 
 and a sublime look, almost of exaltation, settled 
 upon her delicate little face, maturing and ennob- 
 ling it. 
 
 "You have come to tell me something, Mr. 
 Gaunt?" she asked; and he started involuntarily 
 at the subtle change in her voice. Weak it still 
 was, but trembling no longer, and in poise, in per- 
 fect control, it equaled her sister's.^ "You have 
 discovered who killed my husband?" 
 
 "I think so." The gravity, the gentleness, 
 increased in Gaunt's tone. "Mrs. Appleton, I 
 have a duty to perform, and, difficult and repugnant 
 as my task may be, I must accomplish it. Are 
 you strong enough yet to bear the truth? Will 
 you try to be very brave?"
 
 274 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 "You need not fear for me. I shall be strong 
 now. Will you tell me, please, what you have 
 learned?" 
 
 "You have already told me, Mrs. Appleton, 
 that you left the drawing-room and your guests, 
 on the last night of your husband's life, and went 
 to your room, pleading indisposition, because you 
 could not endure witnessing the let us say, the 
 open flirtation of your husband and another woman. 
 That is true, is it not?" 
 
 "Perfectly true." 
 
 "At what time did you leave the others?" 
 
 "At ten o'clock. I know, because, when I 
 reached my room, I looked at the time to count 
 how long I should have to wait before before 
 my sister returned. I was wretchedly lonely and 
 unhappy, and I wanted her." 
 
 "You could not remain in your room, though, 
 could you? Perhaps you fancied your guests had 
 gone, and that your husband was alone in the den. 
 That I do not know; but I do know that you went 
 down nearly to the door of the den, and overheard 
 your husband talking to Miss Carhart. At what 
 time was that, Mrs. Appleton?" 
 
 "At eleven," she returned, composedly. There 
 was in her voice no surprise, no shade of wonder- 
 ment, at his knowledge. She was as one who had
 
 NATALIE 275 
 
 thrown aside all artifice, all subterfuge; one who 
 stoically, fatalistically awaited an inevitable event- 
 uality. "As you surmised, I supposed our guests 
 had gone, and I went down to the den to talk to 
 my husband about a private matter. I knew that 
 otherwise I should see him no more that night, 
 and he was always quite unapproachable in the 
 morning; so I desired to have it over with, there 
 and then. I had almost reached the door of 
 the den, when I heard his voice, and I stopped. 
 Do you know what I heard? He, my husband, 
 and the girl who was a guest beneath my 
 roof, were conspiring together, to sully my own 
 good name, that my husband might cast me 
 aside, dishonored, and make her his wife, in my 
 stead!" 
 
 "I think you wrong her," remarked Gaunt, 
 quietly. 
 
 " I wrong her ? " Her voice held a note of query ; 
 but it was a listless one. 
 
 "You heard your husband's voice, Mrs. Apple- 
 ton; but did you hear hers?" 
 
 "No. When I had heard all I wanted to from 
 Garret's own lips, I turned and fled to my 
 room." 
 
 "Had you waited, you would have heard her 
 denounce him for his infamous plan; heard her
 
 276 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 tell him how she loathed him for it, and that she 
 hoped never to see his face again." 
 
 "She never will," Mrs. Appleton observed. 
 Something in the cold, emotionless young voice 
 made Gaunt shiver, in spite of himself. It was as 
 if she stood beyond the pale of all things human 
 and sentient with life. If only she would weep, 
 or rage in passion against this girl, whom she 
 believed had meant to supplant her, he would have 
 understood, have known how to handle the sit- 
 uation. But this stony calmness, this serene de- 
 tachment from all things vital, was utterly un- 
 natural, and unique in his experience. A sudden 
 shock, a thrust in the dark, might arouse her, 
 might render her as pliant in his hands as she had 
 been on their last interview. 
 
 "And so," he began briskly in a louder, less 
 gentle voice, "when you had heard all you wanted 
 to, you went back to your room, waited until your 
 sister came home, and told her. To save you from 
 the threatened dishonor, she descended to the 
 den, and 
 
 "You are wrong, Mr. Gaunt." That dreadful, 
 toneless voice sounded unchanged by a shade upon 
 his ears. "You are mistaken. It was not Bar- 
 bara. It was I who killed him." 
 
 "You?" he cried, in well-feigned surprise.
 
 "I wrong her?" Her voice held a note of query; but it was a 
 
 listless !
 
 NATALIE 277 
 
 "Yes. Was I not justified? Did he not merit 
 death at my hands?" 
 
 There was a pause, and then he said quietly: 
 
 "Tell me what you did, Mrs. Appleton." 
 
 "I fled to my room, as I told you, and waited until 
 long after our guests had gone, and the house was 
 quiet. Then, I went straight down to the den, 
 and faced Garret, and told him what I had heard 
 him say. He tried to lie out of it, at first; but 
 finally he admitted it, and defied me. I opened 
 the drawer where I knew he kept his revolver, 
 and took it out, and shot him." 
 
 "At what time did you descend to the den 
 the second time the last time, Mrs. Apple- 
 ton?" 
 
 .-."I don't know, exactly. Some time after mid- 
 night." 
 
 "And after you had shot your husband, what 
 did you do?" 
 
 "I laid the revolver down oh, I forgot to tell 
 you that it was when I went around the table to 
 get the revolver that I caught my hair on the 
 hanging lamp, and pulled off that strand which 
 you found there." 
 
 "Is that so? Then you had not been in the den 
 that morning?" 
 
 "No, Mr. Gaunt."
 
 278 AT ONE-THIETY 
 
 "But your sister corroborated you. She said 
 you had been." 
 
 "She knew the truth. She lied for me. That 
 is like Barbara." 
 
 "Well, Mrs. Appleton, what did you do after you 
 laid the revolver down?" 
 
 "I went back to my room, and, when Barbara 
 came home, I told her what I had done, and 
 why." 
 
 "Then it was Miss Ellerslie who went down 
 later and changed the appearance of the room, 
 to give the impression that the murder had 
 been committed during an attempt at burg- 
 lary?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "You are perfectly sure of this?" 
 
 "Quite sure. She told me herself, afterward, 
 that she had done so." 
 
 "And she has your husband's money and valu- 
 ables?" 
 
 "I think so. I don't know what she had done 
 with them." 
 
 "Your sister returned from the wedding festivi- 
 ties at one o'clock, and it was midnight, or after, 
 when you descended to the den. Therefore, it 
 was during that hour, between twelve and one, 
 that you killed your husband?"
 
 NATALIE 279 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Gauntc . . . When are you going 
 to take me away?" 
 
 "Away where?" this time it was the detective 
 who was, for once, caught off his guard. 
 
 "Why, to prison." There was for the first time 
 a flicker of interest in her voice. "Let me see 
 Barbara just once before you take me away! I 
 must see my sister alone!" 
 
 "Oh, we won't talk about taking you to prison 
 until you are better. In fact, I won't notify In- 
 spector Hanrahan or the police yet, until you are 
 able to be moved. I'm not afraid, now that you 
 have confessed, that you will try to escape. If 
 you will give me your word, Mrs. Appleton, not 
 to run away, we will keep this a secret between 
 our two selves for a time." 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Gaunt, how good, how very kind, 
 you are! Now I can have a few days longer 
 with my sister, can't I? I promise you oh, I 
 will take any oath you please, that I will be here 
 ready to go with the police when they come for 
 me!" 
 
 The soft, brown, sightless eyes of Damon Gaunt 
 grew even softer and misty, and there was a queer 
 choke in his voice as he said, very gently: 
 
 "I can trust you, Mrs. Appleton." 
 
 She smiled faintly, and laid her little hand on
 
 280 AT ONE-THIETYj 
 
 his coat-sleeve in silent gratitude. Then, she 
 turned again to the window, where the dazzling 
 blue was changing to a delicate gray, to meet 
 the westering sun; and in her eyes was no longing, 
 no wistfulness, only a deep content.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 FAILURE AND VICTORY 
 
 DAMON GAUNT lay back in his library 
 chair inert, exhausted mentally and spirit- 
 ually with the battle which he had waged 
 with himself and his conscience for two long hours. 
 Now, it was ended, the victory was won, and over 
 his spirit had crept the sacred peace of renuncia- 
 tion. 
 
 In the pale, ghastly glow from the green-shaded 
 lamp, his thin face seemed older than it had ever 
 looked before, the lines more sharply drawn, the 
 cheek-bones more prominent, the closed eyes more 
 sunken. But a smile, which was almost ethereal, 
 wreathed his smooth-shaven, finely chiseled lips, 
 and about his brow was that same expression of 
 serenity which had rested upon young Mrs. Apple- 
 ton's that afternoon, when she had so calmly con- 
 fessed the murder of her husband. 
 
 How long he remained motionless in his chair 
 before the empty hearth, Gaunt never knew. He 
 became aware gradually of a deferential, but 
 
 281
 
 282 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 insistent, knocking on the locked door. With an 
 effort, he roused himself from his reverie, and called 
 wearily : 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 "Mr. Force, sir. Says he will see you, sir he 
 won't take 'no* for an answer. I told him I had 
 orders not to disturb you 
 
 "Never mind. Bring him up, Jenkins." 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 There was a long sigh of relief, audible even 
 through the door, and Jenkins hurried off. He had 
 been a worried man, had Jenkins, since his master 
 returned that afternoon. The door locked upon 
 him, Miss Barnes dismissed for the day, dinner 
 sent away untasted, and gruff orders issued that 
 he was on no account to be disturbed! This was 
 a new Damon Gaunt to him. The like had never 
 happened before in all the faithful years of his 
 service. He was more thankful than he could 
 have expressed to Mr. Force; for his advent, vol- 
 canic as it was, had broken the spell. 
 
 Gaunt felt for the electric button in the wall, 
 switched on the lights, and, striding over to the 
 door, unlocked it. 
 
 There was a quick, firm tread down the hall, 
 and Randolph Force fairly burst into the room. 
 "What does it mean?" he cried hoarsely, waiving
 
 FAILUEE AND VICTORY 283 
 
 any more conventional salutation. "Before God, 
 Gaunt, what does it mean?" 
 
 "If you'll tell me what you mean, my dear fel- 
 low, I may be able to help you," the detective 
 returned, quietly. 
 
 "It's Barbara! I've just come from her. She 
 she's broken our engagement! She won't give me 
 any reason; but she says her decision is irrevocable, 
 and she means it! She doesn't deny that she loves 
 me; but merely says any thought of marriage 
 between us would be impossible!" 
 
 "Why have you come to me, Mr. Force?" asked 
 Gaunt. "I know nothing of Miss EllersUe's pri- 
 vate affairs." 
 
 "I've come to you because I know her decision 
 has something to do with this cursed affair with 
 the murder of Garret Appleton! She has changed 
 since this morning, when I telephoned her changed 
 since you talked with her sister this afternoon! 
 Gaunt, for God's sake, tell me what it means!" 
 
 "I do not know. Until I have seen Miss Ellers- 
 lie myself and talked with her, I can tell you noth- 
 ing." The detective's tone was kindly, but de- 
 cisive. 
 
 "Oh, you'll see her, fast enough. She's coming 
 here tonight to see you. She told me so. She 
 may be here at any moment, and I must be off
 
 284 AT ONE-THIRTY ] 
 
 before she comes. She has learned, somehow, 
 that the foreign post of which I told you is still 
 open to me. Should I accept it, I must sail a week 
 from next Wednesday, on the sixth of November. 
 She insists that I do accept it, and sail alone. 
 She says that, if I love her and I do, God knows 
 I must prove my love by obeying her command, 
 and that I must not relinquish it and return, no 
 matter what I hear. What can she mean? If 
 I obeyed her, and took this post which has been 
 offered me, what is it that I might hear, which 
 would cause me to rush back to her side? What 
 is it?" There was no query in the man's tones, 
 only an agony, an entreaty, which was but thinly 
 veiled. Gaunt approa-ched the young man, and 
 placed a hand upon his shoulder. 
 
 "I know no more than you, Mr. Force," he re- 
 plied, with a significant intensity in his voice, 
 which was like a bracing dash of icy water on the 
 other's frenzied mind. "She is coming here to- 
 night you say. She may be here at any moment. 
 After ray interview with her, I may be able to help 
 you may be in a position to tell you more. If 
 you will accept my advice, you will go to your 
 rooms at once, and remain there until you hear 
 from me or from her." 
 
 "From her?" Randolph Force cried out, in trem-
 
 FAILURE AND VICTORY 285 
 
 bling tones. "From her? Oh, Gaunt, you don't 
 mean that you " 
 
 "I mean," interrupted Damon Gaunt, in stern 
 haste, "that within two hours you will hear from 
 me, or from her. ... Is that a motor that I hear 
 below? You'd better go, Mr. Force." 
 
 Speechlessly, the young man seized his hand, 
 and wrung it convulsively. Then, with an in- 
 articulate sob, he dashed from the room. 
 
 Gaunt flung himself again in his chair. There 
 had been no purring of a motor car outside. He 
 had wanted to get Randolph Force out of the way 
 before that young man's lack of self-control led 
 him to commit himself in speech, in a way he 
 would perhaps forever regret. And, too, he must 
 have time to think, to reflect, to prepare himself 
 for the hour at hand the hour that would be the 
 most difficult one of all his life. 
 
 All too soon, he heard her car approach swiftly, 
 and stop with a grinding of brakes at the curb, 
 and Jenkins was not half-way to the library door 
 to announce her coming, when his master called 
 him to ask the lady to come in. 
 
 She came slowly, and hesitated on the threshold. 
 
 "Mr. Gaunt," her sweet, low voice was steady; 
 but there was a haunting sadness in its cadence, 
 which struck at his heart, "my sister has told
 
 286 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 me of your interview with her this afternoon, of 
 everything that was said. I have come to you to 
 thank you, if I can, for your great kindness, your 
 forbearance, in offering ' to delay the final for- 
 malities, until she is better able to endure them. 
 But I have come, also, for another purpose; to 
 beg you, to implore you on my knees, if I must, 
 to grant me an extraordinary a supreme favor. 
 You have offered to put matters off for a few days. 
 Will you do so until after the sixth of November, 
 a week from next Wednesday? I have no right to 
 ask this of you, I know, and I cannot explain my 
 reason for doing so; but, if you find it compatible 
 with your duty, will you do this for me? On the 
 sixth, I shall have something to tell you which 
 may may change your point of view." 
 
 There was a silence for a moment. Gaunt seemed 
 to be having an inward struggle with himself, 
 as if he found speech difficult. Then, he pushed 
 forward a great, soft-leather arm-chair, and, placing 
 his own near, he said: 
 
 "Won't you sit here, Miss Ellerslie, and let us 
 talk for a little? There is something I would like 
 to say to you." 
 
 Wondering, she took the chair he offered, and un- 
 fastened the furs at her throat. He seated himself, 
 also, and silence fell again between them. He
 
 FAILUEE AND VICTORY 287 
 
 seemed to have fallen into a reverie, to have for- 
 gotten her very presence, while she sat watching 
 his face, with all her heart in her great hazel eyes. 
 
 At length, he turned to her slowly. 
 
 "Miss Eilerslie," he said, "I wonder if you will 
 let me tell you a a fairy story?" 
 
 "A fairy story!" She doubted the evidence of 
 her own ears. 
 
 "Yes. I suppose you think I have suddenly 
 taken leave of my senses} but, if you will listen, 
 I promise you will not be bored." 
 
 "I will listen, gladly," she replied, softly. The 
 significance that lay behind his quiet utterance 
 gave her a sudden glimmer of comprehension. 
 
 "I haven't heard a fairy story, myself, for many 
 years, and I don't remember that I ever told one 
 before; so you must bear with me, if, sometimes, 
 I get partly out of the picture. . . . My story 
 is about two beautiful Princesses, sisters. One 
 was tiny and fair, with golden hair, like most of 
 the Princesses in fairy tales. The other was tall 
 and stately, with auburn tresses at least I think 
 so; for of course I have never seen them." 
 
 He paused, and from the girl beside him came 
 a soft murmur. 
 
 "The fair Princess was wedded to an Ogre, and, 
 together with her sister, lived in his castle, in a
 
 288 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 strange, far country. The Ogre was cruel, which 
 was very terrible; and weak, which was worse; 
 and there was a foolish Princess, who lived in her 
 castle, nearby. She was not wicked, this Prin- 
 cess, but only foolish, as I have said. 
 
 "The Ogre thought he loved her better than the 
 fair Princess, and wanted to drive the golden- 
 haired one and her sister away, that the foolish 
 Princess might reign in her stead. 
 
 "But there was a law in the kingdom in which 
 they dwelt, which even the Ogre was forced to 
 obey, and that law read that, in order to accom- 
 plish his purpose, the Ogre was forced to wrest 
 from the fair Princess a certain treasure which 
 she possessed, and valued above all else in the 
 world, and he must trample it under his feet, on 
 the public highway. This treasure was a casket 
 of ivory and gold, and within it lay a jewel beyond 
 price, and that jewel the fair Princess called her 
 Good Name, and she guarded it tirelessly that none 
 might take it from her. 
 
 "One night, the elder sister, the Princess with 
 the auburn tresses, had gone afar, to the wedding 
 festivities of another Princess, and the golden- 
 haired one strayed down to a dungeon set apart 
 in the Castle, where she overheard the Ogre tell- 
 ing the fdblish Princess how he meant to obtain,
 
 FAILURE AND VICTORY 289 
 
 by foul means, the casket of ivory and gold. The 
 fair Princess supposed they were conspiring together 
 to rob her of her treasure, and she fled back to 
 her chamber. Had she waited, she would have 
 heard the foolish Princess repudiate him, and vow 
 never to look upon his face again. That is the 
 sad part of the story that she didn't wait. 
 
 "Now, it is a curious, but very important, fact 
 that in those days we will call them the Middle 
 Ages; that might mean any time, for when human 
 beings call their year A.D. 3824, we shall belong to 
 the Middle Ages well, in those days they had 
 clocks, just as we do. It doesn't seem likely, 
 but it's true. 
 
 "The fair Princess sat in her turret chamber, 
 until she saw the foolish Princess and her father 
 ride away from the castle. Then she went down 
 immediately to the dungeon, and told the Ogre 
 what she had overheard. Now, when she entered 
 the dungeon, it was just half-past eleven, by the 
 great, jeweled clock in the hall of the castle. It 
 must have been; for that was the hour on which 
 the foolish Princess and her father departed, and 
 the golden-haired one had descended at once. 
 
 "The Ogre grew great with wrath, and defied her, 
 and, weeping she retired to her turret chamber. 
 She did not know that she had left a strand of her
 
 290 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 golden hair, clinging to a swinging chandelier in 
 the dungeon. 
 
 "When her sister returned from the wedding 
 festivities, at one o'clock, the golden-haired one 
 told her of the plot to rob her of her casket of 
 ivory and gold. And the auburn-haired Princess 
 knew there was but one way to save it, and to 
 avenge the creation of the plot against it; so she 
 descended to the dungeon, and slew the Ogre.'* 
 
 Damon Gaunt paused, and the woman beside 
 him gave a little, shuddering moan, and her hands 
 clenched and unclenched on the arm of her chair. 
 After a moment, he continued, as if he had not 
 heard. 
 
 "Hours after the Ogre had been slain, someone 
 entered the dungeon, and tried to change its 
 aspect so that it would appear that a robber baad 
 had broken into the castle, and slain the Ogre for 
 his personal treasure. This personage took the 
 treasure away with him, to make the robbers' 
 attempt seem more real; although he did not want 
 it, and knew not what to do with it. 
 
 "Now, when it became known throughout the 
 kingdom that the Ogre was dead, there was great 
 excitement; for, although he had not been liked, 
 or even respected, he had possessed two idols, 
 which in those days were considered very pre-
 
 FAILURE AND VICTORY 291 
 
 cious. They were called Family and Riches, and 
 because of these he was considered a very great 
 Ogre, indeed. So the people sent Gnome, who 
 was thought to be very wise, to find out for them 
 who had slain the Ogre. The Gnome dwelt in a 
 mountain, and delved far into the earth like a 
 mole; for, like a mole, he was blind. 
 
 "He came to the castle, and felt about the 
 dungeon, and found the strand of golden hair, 
 clinging to the chandelier, and he knew that who- 
 soever it belonged to had been in the dungeon that 
 night. He knew, also, that it was golden by its 
 texture, and he touched the hair of the foolish 
 Princess, and of the auburn-haired Princess; but 
 when he came to the fair-haired one, he knew it 
 was she. 
 
 "She told him that she had been in the dungeon 
 on the previous morning, not during the fateful 
 night; but she realized, as she said it, that he 
 knew it was an untruth, and, as he departed from 
 her presence, he heard her cry out to her sister: 
 'Oh, auburn-haired one! He knows! He knows!' 
 
 "Later, when he had discovered many things, 1 
 the Gnome returned to the turret chamber of the 
 fair Princess, and she, fearing that he knew the 
 truth, cried out that she had slain the Ogre, between 
 the hours of twelve and one o'clock. She told
 
 292 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 him, also, that it was her sister who had gone down 
 later, and tried to change the aspect of the dun- 
 geon. When the Gnome expressed a doubt of 
 this, she vowed that the auburn-haired one had 
 admitted it to her. 
 
 "Of course, it might have looked very, very bad 
 for the fair Princess, if the Gnome hadn't learned 
 three things: The first was that the fair Princess 
 could not have slain the Ogre between the hours 
 of twelve and one, because during that time the 
 Ogre was alive, and something else had occurred 
 in the dungeon then. What that something was, 
 the Gnome never afterward revealed to his dying 
 day. 
 
 "The second thing the Gnome had learned 
 was who the personage was that had tried to alter 
 the appearance of the dungeon, and this he never 
 revealed either; but he knew that it could not 
 have been the Princess of the Auburn Hair. The 
 third was that he knew where the personal treas- 
 ures of the Ogre were, and that the Auburn-haired 
 one could not have taken them. 
 
 "There was one fact which no one knew, however, 
 and that was that, when the Princess of the Auburn 
 Hair went down to slay the Ogre, she dropped from 
 her garment three telltale bits of evidence. At the 
 wedding festivities she had that evening attended,
 
 FAILURE AND VICTORY 293 
 
 much rice had been cast at the bride, and some 
 of it had lodged in the robe of the Auburn-haired 
 One. When she slew the Ogre, three grains of 
 rice fell from her mantle." 
 
 The woman beside him caught her breath sharply, 
 and Gaunt rose and went to his desk. He picked 
 up an envelope from it, and, returning, opened it 
 carefully. Then, he took her unresisting hand 
 in his, turned it over, and shook out upon her palm 
 three grains of rice the three tiny, hard globules, 
 like irregular pearls, which he had picked up from 
 the floor of the den, where they had lain at the 
 feet of the murdered man. Gaunt did not seat 
 himself again, but, standing before her, he con- 
 cluded: 
 
 "There isn't much more to the story. Of 
 course, if the Gnome had seen the three grains 
 of rice, it might have had a different ending; but 
 he didn't, you see, because he was blind. So, 
 he went back to his mountain, and no one ever 
 knew who had slain the Ogre." 
 
 "He didn't see them!" Barbara Ellerslie cried, 
 with amazement and suddenly awakened hope 
 lifting the music of her voice into a paean of half- 
 incredulous joy. 
 
 "No. You must remember, he was blind. And 
 so he failed.' 5
 
 294 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 * 
 
 "He failed!" she repeated, gaspingly. "He 
 failed!" 
 
 Then, quite suddenly, she burst into a storm of 
 weeping, burying her face in her arms, while the 
 tears streamed down her. face, and great, tearing 
 sobs racked her body. Knowing this sudden storm 
 to be but the reaction from a week of unspeakable 
 horror and nerve-racking suspense, ending in black- 
 est despair, he wisely let her have her cry out. 
 It was only when her sobs had subsided to quiver- 
 ing sighs that he spoke, half-tenderly half-jocu- 
 larly : 
 
 "By Jove! [I believe that's the only fairy story 
 on record in which a Fairy Prince isn't mentioned! 
 And that only because I forgot to mention him. 
 He's sailing away next week, and he expects to 
 take both the Princesses with him. But I believe 
 one is to go as his wife. . . . Don't you think 
 you'd better call him up? Of course, I've no way 
 of knowing; but I rather think he's expecting a 
 message from you tonight." 
 
 "Oh, I'll go straight home, and send for him to 
 come to me! I don't care how late it is, or what 
 the servants will think! Oh, Mr. Gaunt!" Her 
 rich voice thrilled and deepened as she spoke. 
 "What can I say to you? How can I ever thank 
 you?"
 
 FAILURE AND VICTORY 295 
 
 "By being happy, by forgetting all that makes 
 you sad, and by looking only to the future." 
 
 "I will oh, I will!" she whispered, her head 
 bowed as though he had uttered a benediction. 
 
 After a pause, she raised her head, and, looking 
 straight into his face, she said slowly and care- 
 fully, as if choosing her words: 
 
 "Just one word more, Mr. Gaunt. In Kentucky, 
 where we came from, the women are honored and 
 protected, even when they're not loved. And, 
 when a woman is cruelly, vilely treated by a man; 
 when, although innocent, she is about to be dragged 
 through scandal, and and worse, just to get her 
 out of the way why, then, sir, we kill. Not 
 murder kill! We don't knife in the dark, or 
 strangle, or poison, or strike down with a blow, 
 but we shoot, and shoot straight! If my father, 
 or my brothers, or any man kin to us, had 
 been alive, Garret Appleton would have lain in 
 his grave long ago. But there wasn't anyone 
 left, but just us two, little Natalie, and me. 
 You understand? . . . May God bless you, Mr. 
 Gaunt!" 
 
 There was a sudden rustle, a delicate ungloved 
 hand sought his, and raised it gently, swiftly, and 
 he felt upon it the touch of two soft, fragrant lips, 
 and then the sting of hot, scalding tears. . . .
 
 296 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 His hand fell, there was a swirl of silken skirts, 
 and the soft thud of a closing door. 
 
 Damon Gaunt stood for a moment where she 
 had left him, his upraised face transfigured. Then, 
 he bowed his head, and pressed his sightless eyes 
 upon his hand, where it was wet with her tears./
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 AFTERMATH 
 
 IT was two years later. Again, Damon Gaunt 
 stood at his window in the early autumn, 
 drinking in the scents and sounds of the busy 
 street life below, and, again, his hands strayed 
 to the ivy vine upon the sill. He was thinking, 
 too, of that day, two years before, which had 
 ushered in the great event of his life, and his 
 thoughts strayed to the far-off country, where the 
 woman he loved had found happiness. 
 
 At a knock upon the door, he turned. 
 
 It was Miss Barnes, who entered with a large, 
 square white envelope in her hand. 
 
 "Letter for you, Mr. Gaunt," she said. 
 
 "Yes? Will you read it to me, please?" 
 
 She opened the envelope, and glanced at its 
 contents, and gave a short laugh. 
 
 "It won't be necessary, Mr. Gaunt. You can 
 read this for yourself. It's been written on one 
 of those new typewriters with the raised dots 
 and points system, and it's post-marked Odessa." 
 
 297
 
 298 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 "Ah, give it to me," Gaunt cried, eagerly. He 
 took from her the large sheets of paper, covered 
 with a peculiar arrangement of raised characters, 
 and, spreading it out on the table before him, ran 
 his fingers lightly over it. 
 
 "My dear Mr. Gaunt: My husband and I have 
 often desired to write you; but we wished to have 
 none but you know the contents of our letter. 
 At last we have found this simple machine, and, 
 by real good luck, at about the same time we 
 saw in a newspaper, sent to us from America, by 
 Harmon Witherspoon, an account of several articles 
 on crime, which you had written for a current 
 magazine. The account stated that you had writ- 
 ten them, yourself, on this same make of type- 
 writer which we have found out here. Randolph 
 purchased one, at once, and I have been learning 
 this system, that we may keep in touch with the 
 best friend we have on earth. 
 
 "My sister is still with us. Her little son, born 
 a year and a half ago, lived only a few hours; but 
 she has become reconciled even to that loss. 
 is well and quietly happy. You may be interested 
 in knowing that Harmon Witherspoon starts 
 Russia in two months. He began writing to 
 Natalie six months after we left America. At 
 first, she took no interest, and I was forced to reply
 
 AFTERMATH 299 
 
 to his letters; but later she took up her own corre- 
 spondence, and when he offered to come out, 
 she did not forbid it. We think that possibly 
 there may be something left in life for her, after 
 all. 
 
 "There is something which my husband thinks 
 should be told you I think you know it already. 
 An hour before we sailed from America, a package 
 came to me with a typewritten, unsigned com- 
 munication, telling me that, if I valued my future 
 happiness and that of all the family, I would drop 
 the package quietly overboard in mid-ocean. It 
 was rather large and heavy; indeed, most of the 
 space seemed to be taken Up by a weight or stone. 
 Through the sacking which covered it, I could feel 
 several small, hard articles and something be- 
 sides something that felt like a leather bill- 
 case. I obeyed the instructions on the typewritten 
 card accompanying it; so the incident is closed. 
 I ask no questions; I merely state this as a curious 
 adventure. 
 
 "Will you let us hear from you? We will wait 
 anxiously for your letter. 
 
 "I have left my greatest news until the last. 
 There is another member of the family now a 
 very small member, and his name is Damon Gaunt 
 Force. Some day, when he can understand, he must
 
 300 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 be told a little of what his father and mother owe 
 to the greatest-hearted man living. 
 
 "With gratitude and sincere affection, 
 
 "BARBARA ELLERSLIE-FORCE." 
 
 Gaunt crushed the letter between his hands, 
 and bowed his head upon it, for a moment. It 
 seemed that he could hear her voice, with its sweet, 
 faintly husky drawl. He could feel again, the 
 touch of her lips upon his hand. . . . 
 
 "Dear God!" 
 
 Steps sounded along the hall. There was a 
 sharp rap upon the door, and Jenkins, his voice 
 beaming, announced: 
 
 "Inspector Hanrahan, Mr. Gaunt." 
 
 Gaunt raised his head slowly, and passed his 
 hand across his brow, as if dazed. Then he said: 
 
 "My old friend, Hanrahan what on earth can 
 he want? Well, show him up, Jenkins." 
 
 The faithful man-servant departed, chuckling. 
 Ever since Gaunt had given up his life-work, Jen- 
 kins had been sorely worried and depressed. Could 
 this visit of the Inspector mean a return to the 
 activities that had made his master famous on two 
 continents? 
 
 "How do you do, Mr. Gaunt, sir?" 
 
 "How do you do, Inspector? What brings you 
 here, this beautiful morning?"
 
 AFTERMATH 301 
 
 "Something that will make you slip into your 
 coat, and come out on Long Island with me, as 
 fast as the car can get us there. The greatest case 
 in years, Mr. Gaunt positively the greatest! 
 Daughter of Carrol Whitney, one of those Meadow- 
 brook Colony millionaires you know, disappears 
 during a dance at her father's house, last night, 
 and is found an hour ago, under the cedars in a 
 secluded portion of the estate, with her throat cut. 
 Seventeen, beautiful, no love-affair, no motive, 
 no clue. I promised to get you, if I had to kid- 
 nap you." 
 
 Gaunt smiled, and shook his head. 
 
 "I am sorry, Inspector," he said. "But I am 
 out of the game, for good and all. I have not 
 taken a case in two years, you know. I shall never 
 take another." 
 
 "Aw! Why do you keep harping on that? Just 
 because you failed in that Appleton case! We 
 can't win out every time. I've lost more cases, 
 myself, than I'd admit to anyone on earth but 
 you; and, remember, no one else has ever solved 
 the mystery of how Garret Appleton came to his 
 death. You remember what I said to you, here 
 in this very room, just a few days before you threw 
 up the case? I said that it would be a good frame- 
 up to hand in at headquarters, if I failed to find
 
 302 AT ONE-THIRTY 
 
 the one who did it, to let it go as a suicide, which 
 someone of the family had discovered, and changed 
 the room to make it look as if robbery had been 
 the motive, so as to save the family name. Well, 
 upon my soul, I believe that is the true solution. 
 Funny thing those valuables were never found, 
 isn't it? 
 
 "Yes, it does seem strange," Gaunt admitted. 
 "Well, anyway, you should not have taken it 
 so much to heart. There ain't a man can touch 
 you in the business, today, Mr. Gaunt. Come 
 on down with me to Long Island do!" 
 
 "Sorry, Inspector this is final. I'll never take 
 another case." 
 
 "Well, I don't see why you feel so bad about 
 it. I know you're cleverer than the rest of us, 
 and I suppose you think that, if you hadn't been 
 blind, you could have solved it you would have 
 seen something that we missed. You're too touchy 
 about it, that's all. Look at the wonderful work 
 you have done in the past! If it's just because 
 you can't see that you won't take another case- 
 Gaunt turned upon him with a swift gesture for 
 silence, and there was a harsh note of agony in his 
 voice, as he cried: 
 t "Oh, no, Inspector; I see too much!"
 
 JOHN FOX, JR'S, 
 
 STORIES OF THE KENTUCKY MOUNTAINS 
 
 May fie had whorevsr bcc!:s are soid. Ask for Srosset and Dunlap's Kct 
 
 THE TRAIL OF THE LONESOME PINE. 
 Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. 
 
 The "lonesome pine" from which the 
 story takes its name was a tall tree that 
 stood in solitary splendor on a mountain 
 top. The fame of the pine lured a young 
 engineer through Kentucky to catch the 
 trail, and when he finally climbed to its 
 shelter he found not only the pine but the 
 foot-prints of a girl. And the girl proved 
 to be lovely, piquant, and the trail of 
 these girlish foot-prints led the young 
 engineer a madder chase thaa *'the trail 
 of the lonesome pine." 
 
 SHEPHERD OF KINGDOM COME 
 
 THE LITTLE 
 
 Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. 
 
 This is a story of Kentucky, in a settlement known as "'King- 
 dom Come." It is a life rude, semi-barbarous; but natural 
 and honest, from which often springs the flower of civilization. 
 
 *' Chad." the "little shepherd" did not know who he was nor 
 whence he came he had just wandered from door to door since 
 early childhood, seeking shelter with kindly mountaineers who 
 gladly fathered and mothered this waif about whom there was 
 such a mystery a charming waif, by the way, who could play 
 the banjo better that anyone else in the mountains. 
 
 A KNIGHT OF THE CUMBERLAND. , 
 1 Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. 
 
 The scenes are laid along the waters of the Cumberland* 
 I the lair of moonshiner and f eudsman. The knight is a moon 
 shiner's son, snd the heroine a beautiful girl perversely chris- 
 tened "The Blight." Two impetuous young Southerners' fall 
 under the spell of "The Blight's " charms and she learns what 
 a large part jealousy and pistols have in the love making of the 
 mountaineers. 
 
 Included in this volume is " Hell f er-Sartain" and othsr 
 stories, some of Mr. Fox's most entertaining Cumberland valley 
 narratives. 
 
 &sk for complete free list af G. & D. Popular Copyrighted. Fiction 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK
 
 STORIES OF RARE CHARM BY 
 
 GENE STRATTON-PORTER 
 
 Hay be had wherever books aro sold. Ask for Grosset and Cunlap's list 
 THE HARVESTER 
 
 Illustrated by W. L. Jacobs 
 
 "The Harvester," David Langston, is 
 a man of the woods and fields, who draws 
 his living from the prodigal hand of Mother 
 Nature herself. If the book had nothing in 
 it but the splendid figure of this man, wiih 
 his sure grip on life, his superb optimism, 
 and his almost miraculous knowledge of 
 nature secrets, it would be notable. But 
 when the Girl comes to his "Medicine 
 Woods," and the Harvester's whole sound, 
 healthy, large outdoor being realizes that 
 this is the highest point of life which has 
 come to him there begins a romance, 
 troubled and interrupted, yet of the rarest idyllic quality. 
 
 FRECKLES. Decorations by E. Stetson Crawford 
 
 Freckles is a nameless waif when the tale opens, but the way in 
 which he takes hold of life; the nature friendships he forms in the 
 Ereat Limberlost Swamp; the manner in which everyone who meets 
 Eim succumbs to the chann of his engaging personality; and his love- 
 story with "The Angel" are full of real sentiment. 
 
 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST. 
 Illustrated by Wladyslaw T. Brenda. 
 
 The story of a girl of the Michigan woods; a buoyant, lovable 
 type of the self-reliant American. Her philosophy is one of love and 
 kindness towards all things; her hope is never dimmed. And by the 
 sheer beauty of her soul, and the purity of her vision, she wins from 
 barren and unpromising surroundings those rewards of high courage. 
 
 It is an inspiring story of a life worth while and the rich beauties 
 of the out-of-doors are strewn through all its pages. 
 
 AT THE FOOT OF THE RAINBOW. 
 
 Illustrations in colors by Oliver Kemp. Design and decorations by 
 Ralph Fletcher Seymour. 
 
 The scene of this charming, idyllic love story is laid in Central 
 Indiana. The story is one of devoted friendship, and tender self- 
 sacrificing love; the friendship that gives freely without return, and 
 the love that seeks first the happiness of the object. The novel is 
 brimful of the most beautiful word painting of nature, and its pathos 
 and tender sentiment will endear it to all. 
 
 Ast for compete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK
 
 MYRTLE REED'S NOVELS 
 
 May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list 
 
 LAVENDER AND OLD LACE. 
 
 A charming story of a quaint corner of 
 New England where bygone romance finds a 
 modern parallel. The story centers round 
 the coming of love to the young people on 
 the staff of a newspaper and it is one of the 
 prettiest, sweetest and quaintest of old fash- 
 ioned love stories, * * * a rare book, ex- 
 quisite in spirit and conception, full of 
 delicate fancy, of tenderness, of delightful 
 humor and spontaniety. 
 
 A SPINNER IN THE SUN. 
 
 Miss Myrtle Reed may always be depended upon to write a story 
 in which poetry, charm, tenderness and humor are combined into a 
 clever and entertaining book. Her characters are delightful and sbe 
 always displays a quaint humor of expression and a quiet feeling of 
 pathos which give a touch of active realism to all her writings. In 
 "A Spinner in the Sun" she tells an old-fashioned love story, of a 
 veiled lady who lives in solitude and whose features her neighbors 
 have never seen. There is a mystery at the heart of the book that 
 throws over it the glamour of romance. 
 
 THE MASTER'S VIOLIN, 
 
 A love story in a musical atmosphere. A picturesque, old Ger- 
 man virtuoso is the reverent possessor of a genuine "Cremona." He 
 consents to take for his pupil a handsome youth who proves to have 
 an aptitude for technique, but not the soul of an artist. The youth 
 has led the happy, careless life of a modem, well-to-do young Amer- 
 ican and he cannot, with his meagre past, express the love, the passion 
 and the tragedies of life and all its happy phases as can the mastei 
 who has lived life in all its fulness. But a girl comes into his life a 
 beautiful bit of human driftwood that his aunt had taken into her 
 heart and home, and through his passionate love for her, he learns 
 the lessons that life has to give and his soul awakes. 
 
 Founded on a fact that all artists realize. 
 
 Ask for a complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK
 
 GROSSET& DUN LAP'S 
 
 DRAMATIZED NOVELS 
 
 THE KIND THAT ARE MAKING THEATRICAL HISTORY 
 May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap'c list 
 
 WITHIN THE LAW. By Bayard Veiller & Marvin Dana. 
 Illustrated by \vm. Charles Cooke. 
 
 This is a novelization of the immensely successful play which raj 
 for two years in New York and Chicago. 
 
 The plot of this powerful novel is of a young woman's revenga 
 directed against her employer who allowed her to be sent to prison 
 for three years on a charge of theft, of which she was innocent. 
 
 WHAT HAPPENED TO MARY. By Robert Carlton Brown, 
 illustrated with scenes from the play. 
 
 This is a narrative of a young and Innocent country girl who is 
 f udf^nly thrown into the very heart of New York, "the land of her 
 Mtreauw, where she is exposed to all sorts of temptations and dangers. 
 
 The story of Mary is being told in moving pictures and played in 
 iaeatres all over the world. 
 
 THE RETURN OF PETER GRIMM. B? David Belasco. 
 Illustrated by John Kae, 
 
 This is a novelization of the popular play in which David War, 
 fieid, as Old Peter Grimm, scored such a remarkable success. 
 
 The story is spectacular and extremely pathetic but withal, 
 powerful, both as a book and as a play. 
 THE GARDEN OF ALLAH. By Robert Hichens.; 
 
 This novel is an intense, glowing epic of the great desert, snnlif 
 barbaric, with its marvelous atmosphere of vastness and loneliness. 
 
 It is a book of rapturous beauty, vivid in word painting. The plaj 
 has been staged with, magnificent cast and gorgeous properties. 
 BEN HUR. A Tale of the Christ By General Lew Wallace. 
 
 Th<; whole world has placed this famous Religious-Historical Ro 
 ciance on a height of pre-eminence which no other novel of its time 
 has reached The clashing of rivalry and the deepest human passions, 
 ;th perfect reproduction of brilliant Roman life, and the terse, fierce 
 'atmosphere of the arena have kept their deep fascination. A tr 
 raendrus dramatic success. 
 
 BOUGHT AISiD PATD FOR. By George Broadhurst and Arthof 
 Homblow. Illustrated with scenes from the play. 
 
 A stupendous arraignment of modern marriage which has created 
 an Interest on the stage that is almost unparalleled. The scenes are laid 
 3 n New York, and deal with conditions among both the rich and poor. 
 
 The interest of the story turns on the day-by day developments 
 which show the young wife the price she has paid. ^ 
 
 Ask for complete frit list of G. & D. Popular Cc^yrigJied Fiction 
 
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 GR.OSSET & DUNLAP'S 
 
 DRAMATIZED NOVELS 
 
 Original, sincere and courageous often amusing -the 
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 MADAME X. By Alexandra Bisson and J. W. McCon- 
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 A beautiful Parisienne became an outcast because her hus- 
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 THE GARDEN OF ALLAH. By Robert Hichans. 
 
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 Stranger meet and love in an oasis of the Sahara. Staged 
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 THE PRINCE OF INDIA. By Lew. Wallace. 
 
 A glowing romance of the Byzantine Empire, presenting 
 with extraordinary power the siege of Constantinople, and 
 lighting its tragedy with the warm underglow of an Oriental 
 romance. As a play it is a great dramatic spectacle. 
 
 TESS OF THE STORM COUNTRY. By Grace 
 
 Miller White. Illust. by Howard Chandler Christy. 
 A girl from the dregs of society, loves a young Cornell Uni- 
 versity student, and it works startling changes in her life and ; 
 the lives of those about her. The dramatic version is one of 
 the sensations of the season. 
 
 YOUNG WALLINGFORD. By George Randolph 
 
 Chester. Illust. by F. R. Gruger and Henry Raleigh. 
 
 A series of clever swindles conducted by a cheerful young 
 
 man, each of which is just on the safe side of a State's prisoa 
 
 offence. As "Get-Rich-Quick Wallingford," it is probably 
 
 the most amusing expose of money manipulation ever seen 
 
 on the stage. 
 
 THE INTRUSION OF JIMMY. By P. G. Wode- 
 
 house. Illustrations by Will Grefe. 
 Social and club life id London and New York, an amateur 
 yurglary adventure and a love story. Dramatized under the 
 title of "A Gentleman of Leisure," it furnishes hours of 
 laughter to the play-goers. 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK
 
 CHARMING BOOKS FOR GIRLS 
 
 Itey bo had r/hsrevar books ar sold. Ash for Grsssat & Dunlap's list 
 
 WHEN PATTY WENT TO COLLEGE. By Jean Webster. 
 Illustrated by C. D. Williams. 
 
 One of the best stories of life in a girl's college that has ever been 
 written. It 13 bright, -whimsical and entertaining, lifelike, laughable 
 
 and thoroughly huraan. 
 
 JUST PATTY, E 7 Jean Webster. 
 
 Illustrated by C. M. Raljea. 
 
 Patty is full of the joy of living:, fun-loving, given to ingenious 
 tfeischief for its own sake, with a disregard for preity convention which 
 Is an unfailing source of joy to her fellows. 
 
 THE POOR LITTLE RICH GIRL, By Eleanor Gates. 
 
 \Vithfour fall page illustrations. 
 
 This stojy relates the experience of one of thoss unfortunate chil- 
 dren whose early days are passed in the companionship of a governess, 
 seldom seeing e:ther parent, and famishing for natural love and tender- 
 ness. A charming play as dramatized by the author. 
 
 REBECCA OF PUNNYBROOK FARM. By Kate Douglas 
 
 Wisgin. 
 
 One of the most beautiful studies of childhood Rebecca's artistic, 
 unusual and quaintly charming qualities stand out midst a circle of 
 austere New Englanders. The stage version is making a phenominal 
 dramatic record. 
 
 NEW CHRONICLES OF REBECCA. By Kate Douglas Wiggin. 
 Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. 
 
 Additional episodes in the girlhood of this delightful heroine that 
 carry Rtbecca through various stages to her eighteenth birthday. 
 
 REBECCA MARY, By Annie Hamilton DonnelL 
 
 Illustrated by Elizabeth Shippen Green. 
 
 This author possesses the rare gift of portra3nngall the grotesque 
 little joys and sorrows and scruples of this very small girl with a p 
 thos that is peculiarly genuine and appealing. 
 
 EMMY LOU: Her Book and Heart, By George Madden Martin 
 
 Illustrated by Charles LOTUS Ilinton. 
 
 Emmy Lou is irresistibly lovable, because she is so absolutely real. 
 She is just a bewitchingly innocent, hugable little maid. The book is 
 wonderfully human. 
 
 Ask for complete fret list of C. & D. Popular Cofiyriglicd Fiction. 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 2&th ST., NEW YORK
 
 STORIES OF WESTERN LIFE 
 
 May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list 
 
 RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE, By Zane Grey. 
 
 Illustrated by Douglas Duer. 
 
 In this picturesque romance of Utah of some forty years ago, we 
 are permitted to see the unscrupulous methods employed by the in- 
 visible hand of the Mormon Church to break the will of those refus- 
 ing to conform to its rule. 
 
 FRIAR TUCK. By Robert Alexander Wason. 
 Illustrated by Stanley L. Wood. 
 
 Happy Hawkins tells us, in his humorous way, how Friar Tuck 
 lived among the Cowboys, how he adjusted their quarrels and love 
 affairs and how he fought with them and for them when occasion, 
 required. 
 
 THE SKY PILOT. By Ralph Connor. 
 Illustrated by Louis Rhead. 
 
 There is no novel, dealing with the rough existence of cowboys, 
 so charming in the telling, abounding as it does with the freshest and 
 the truest pathos. 
 
 THE EMIGRANT TRAIL, By Geraldine Bonner. 
 Colored frontispiece by John Rae. 
 
 The book relates the adventures of a party on its overland pfl- 
 grimage, and the birth and growth of the absorbing love of two strong 
 men for a charming heroine. 
 
 THE BOSS OF WIND RIVER, By A. M. Chisholm. 
 Illustrated by Frank Tenney Johnson. 
 
 This is a strong, virile novel with the lumber industry for its cen- 
 tral theme and a love story full of interest as a sort of subplot 
 
 A PRAIRIE COURTSHIP, By Harold Bindloss. 
 
 A story of Canadian prairies in which the hero is stirred, through 
 the influence of his love for a woman, to settle down to the heroic 
 business of pioneer farming. 
 
 JOYCE OF THE NORTH WOODS, By Harriet T. Comstock. 
 
 Illustrated by John Cassel. 
 
 A story of the deep woods that shows the power of love at work 
 among its primitive dwellers. It is a tensely moving study of the 
 human heart and its aspirations that unfolds itself through thrilling 
 situations and dramatic developments. 
 
 Ask for a complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK
 
 TITLES SELECTED FROM 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAFS LIST 
 
 May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Cresset Dunlap's !ls!, 
 
 THE SECOND WIFE. By Thompson Buchanan. Illustrated 
 by W. W. Fawcett. Harrison Fisher wrapper printed in four 
 colors and gold. 
 
 An intensely interesting; story of a marital complication in 
 a wealthy New York family involving the happiness of a 
 beautiful young girl. 
 
 TESS OF THE STORM COUNTRY. By Grace Miller White. 
 Illustrated by Howard Chandler Christy. 
 
 An amazingly vivid picture of low class life in a New 
 York college town, with a heroine beautiful and noble, who makes 
 a ^reat sacrifice for love. 
 
 FROM THE VALLEY OF THE MISSING. By Gracfc Miller 
 While. 
 Frontispiece and wrapper in colors by Penrhyn Stanlaws. 
 
 Another story of "the storm country." Two beautiful chil- 
 dren are kidnapped from a weakhy home and appear many years 
 after showing the effects of a deep, malicious scheme "behind 
 their disappearance. 
 
 THE LIGHTED MATCH. By Charles Neville Buck. Illus- 
 trated by R. F. Schabelitz. 
 
 A lovely princess travels incognito through the States and 
 falls in love with an American man. There are ties that bind her 
 to someone in her own home, and the great plot revolves round 
 her efforts to work her way out. 
 
 MAUD BAXTER. By C. C. Hotchkiss. Illustrated by Will 
 Grefe. 
 
 A romance both daring and delightful, involving an Amer- 
 ican girl and a young man who had been impressed into English 
 service during the Revolution. 
 
 THE HIGHWAYMAN. By Guy Rawlence. Illustrated by 
 Will Grefe. 
 
 A French beauty of mysterious antecedents wins the love 
 of an Englishman of title. Developments of a startling character 
 and a clever untangling of affairs hold the reader's iuterest. 
 
 THE PURPLE STOCKINGS. By Edward Salisbury Field. 
 Illustrated in colors; marginal illustrations. 
 
 A young New York business man, his pretty sweetheart, 
 his sentimental stenographer, and his fashionable sister are ilt 
 mixed up in a misunderstanding that surpasses anything in the 
 way of comedy in years. A story with a laugh on every page. 
 
 A.S& for complete free fist of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted, Fiction 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK
 
 THE NOVELS OF 
 
 STEWART EDWARD WHITE 
 
 THE RULES OF THE GAME. Illustrated by Lajaren A. Killer 
 
 The romance of the son of "The Riverman." The young college 
 hero goes into the lumber camp, is antagonized by "graft" and comes 
 into the romance of his life. 
 ARIZONA NIGHTS. Illus. and cover inlay by N. C. Wyeth. 
 
 A series of spirited tales emphasizing some phases of the life 
 of the ranch, plains and desert. A masterpiece. 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL. With illustiations by Thomas Fogarty. 
 
 A wholesome story with gleams of humor, telling of a young 
 man who blazed his way to fortune through the heart of the Mich- 
 igan pines. 
 THE CLAIM JUMPERS. A Romance. 
 
 The tenderfoot manager of a mine in a lonesome gulch of the 
 Black Hills has a hard time of it, but "wins out" in more ways than 
 one. 
 CONJUROR'S HOUSE. Illustrated Theatrical Edition. 
 
 Dramatized under the title of "The Call of the North.'* 
 
 "Conjuror's House is a Hudson Bay trading post where the 
 head factor is the absolute lord. A young fellow risked his life and 
 won a bride on this forbidden land. 
 THE MAGIC FOREST. A Modern Fairy Tale. Illustrated. 
 
 The sympathetic way in which the children of the wild and 
 their life is treated could only belong to one who is in love with the 
 forest and open air. Based on fact. 
 THE RIVERMAN. Illus. by N. C. Wyeth and C. Underwood. 
 
 The story of a man's fight against a river and of a struggle 
 between honesty and grit on the one side, and dishonesty and 
 shrewdness on the other. 
 THE SILENT PLACES. Illustrations by Philip R. Goodwin. 
 
 The wonders of the northern forests, the heights of feminine 
 devotion, and masculine power, the intelligence of the Caucasian 
 and the instinct of the Indian, are all finely drawn in this story. 
 THE WESTERNERS. 
 
 A story of the Black Hills that is justly placed among the 
 best American novels. It portrays the life of the new West as no 
 other book has done in recent years. 
 
 THE MYSTERY. In collaboration with Samuel Hopkins Adams 
 With illustrations by Will Crawford. 
 
 The disappearance of three successive crews from the stont 
 ship ''Laughing Lass" in mid-Pacific, is a mystery weird and inscrut- 
 able. In the solution, there is a story of the most exciting voyage 
 that man ever undertook. 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK
 
 B. M, Bower's Novels 
 
 Thrilling Western Romances 
 
 Large 12 mos. Handsomely bound in cloth. Illustrated 
 
 CHIP, OF THE FLYING U 
 
 A breezy wholesome tale, wherein the love affairs of Chip and 
 Delia Whitman are charmingly and humorously told. Chip's' 
 jealousy of Dr. Cecil Grantham, who turns out to be a big. blue 
 eyed young woman is very amusing. A clever, realistic story of 
 the American Cow-puncher. 
 
 THE HAPPY FAMILY 
 
 A lively and amusing story, dealing with the adventures of 
 eighteen jovial, big hearted Montana cowboys. Foremost amongst 
 them, we find Ananias Green, known as Andy, whose imaginative 
 powers cause many lively and exciting adventures. 
 
 HER PRAIRIE KNIGHT 
 
 A realistic story of the plains, describing a gay party of Eas- 
 terners who exchange & cottage at Newport for the rough homeli- 
 ness of a Montana ranch-house. The merry-hearted cowboys, the 
 fascinating Beatrice, and the effusive Sir Redmond, become living, 
 breathing personalities. 
 THE RANGE DV7ELLERS 
 
 Here are everyday, genuine cowboys, just as they really exist 
 Spirited action, a ranee feud between two families, and a Roraeo 
 and juliet courtship make this a bright, jolly, entertaining story, 
 without a dull page, 
 
 VHE LURE OF DIM TRAILS 
 
 A vivid portrayal of the experience of an Eastern author, 
 among the cowboys of the West, in search of "local color" for a 
 new novel. "Bud" Thurston learns many a lecson while following 
 "the lure of the dim trails" but the hardest, and probably the moat 
 welcome, is that of love. 
 THE LONESOME TRAIL 
 
 "Weary" Davidson leaves the ranch for Portland, where con. 
 ventional city life palls on him. A little branch of sage brush, 
 pungent with the atmosphere of the prairie, and the recollection of 
 a pair of large brown eyes soon compel his return. A wholesome 
 love story, 
 
 TH5 LONG SHADOW 
 
 A vigorous Western story, sparkling with' the free, outdoor, 
 Sife of a mountain ranch. Its scenes shift rapidly and its actors play 
 the game of life fearlessly and like men. It is a fine love story from 
 start to finish. 
 
 Ask for a complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction. 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26Tii ST., NEW YORK
 
 Full of originality and humor, kindliness and cheer 
 
 THE OLD PEABODY PEW. Large Octavo. Decorative 
 text pages, printed in two colors. Illustrations by Alice ' 
 Barber Stephens. 
 
 One of the prettiest romances that has ever come from this 
 ftnthor's pen is made to bloom on Christmas Eve in the sweet 
 freshness of an old New England meeting house. 
 
 PENELOPE'S PROGRESS. Attractive cover design in 
 colors. 
 
 Scotland is the background for the merry doings of three very 
 clever and original American girls. Their adventures in adjusting 
 themselves to the Scot and his land are full of humor. 
 
 PENELOPE'S IRISH EXPERIENCES. Uniform in style 
 with "Penelope's Progress." 
 
 The trio of clever girls who rambled over Scotland cross the bor- 
 der to the Emerald Isle, and again they sharpen their wits against 
 new conditions, and revel in the land of laughter and wit. 
 
 REBECCA OF SUNNYBROOK FARM. 
 
 One of the most beautiful studies of childhood Rebecca's artis- 
 tic, unusual and quaintly charming qualities stand cut midst a circle 
 of austere New Englanders. The stage version is making a phe- 
 nomenal dramatic record. 
 
 NEW CHRONICLES OF REBECCA. With illustrations 
 by F. C. Yohn. 
 
 Some more quaintly amusing chronicles that carry Rebeccff 
 iirough various stages to her eighteenth birthday. 
 
 ROSE O' THE RIVER. With illustrations by Georgt 
 Wright. 
 
 The simple story of Rose, a country girl and Stephen a sturdy 
 young farmer, The girl's fancy for a city man interrupts their love 
 ttnd merges the story into an emotional strain where the reader fol- 
 lows the events with rapt attention. 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK
 
 LOUIS TRACY'S 
 
 CAPTIVATING AND EXHILARATING ROMANCES 
 
 May be hid wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunfap'r Hst 
 
 CYNTHIA'S CHAUFFEUR. Illustrated by Howard Chandie 
 
 > Christy. 
 
 A pretty American girl in London is touring in a car witi 
 a chauffeur whose identity puzzles her. An amusing mystery. 
 
 THE STOWAWAY GIRL. Illustrated by Nesbitt Bensca. 
 
 A shipwreck, a lovely girl stowaway, a rascally captain* a 
 fascinating officer, and thrilling adventures in South Seas. 
 
 THE CAPTAIN OF THE KANSAS. 
 
 Love and the salt sea, a helpless ship whirled into the hands 
 <>f cannibals, desperate fighting and a tender romance. 
 
 THE MESSAGE. Illustrated by Joseph Cummings Chase. 
 
 A bi* of parchment found in the figurehead of an old V69- 
 iel tells of a buried treasure. A thrilling mystery develops. 
 
 THE PILLAR OF LIGHT. 
 
 The pillar thus designated was a lighthouse, and the author 
 tells with exciting detail the terrible dilemma of its cut-off in- 
 habitants. 
 
 THE WHEEL O'FORTUNE. With illustrations by Jamc* 
 Montgomery Flagg. 
 
 The story deals with the finding of a papyrus containing 
 (the particulars of some of the treasures of the Queers of Sheba. 
 
 A SON OF THE IMMORTALS. Illustrated by Howard 
 
 Chandler Christy. 
 
 A yom;j American is proclaimed king of a little Balkan 
 Kingdom, z.nd a pretty Parisian art student is the power behind 
 the throne. 
 
 THE WINGS OF THE MORNING. 
 
 A sort of Robinson Crusoe redi-vit<us with modem setting* 
 nd a very pretty love story added. The hero and heroine, art 
 the only survivors of a wreck, and have many thrilling adventures 
 on their desert island. 
 
 A.ik for compete free list of G. ? Z>. Popular Copyrighted Fictw 
 
 CSROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 2bth ST,, NEW You*
 
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