CHAPTER XVII
The Cipher Solved
BINGHAM was shocked, but more at the expression of the thing than at the idea itself.
“If you are wicked, I am, too, dear,” he said, softly; “I cannot put it into words as you do, and yet, I cannot regret anything that gives me you! Eileen,” and he held her from him while he seemed to devour her with his eyes, “you are a siren, a witch! For you I would say anything, admit anything! I shrink in horror from the awful circumstances of Ethel’s death, but I welcome the thought that it leaves me free for you. My goddess, my queen! No man ever loved a woman as I love you! Do you believe it, dear heart? You must believe it! Tell me you do!”
“Yes, I believe it, dearest, but I want your name cleared before all the world.”
“It never can be, Eileen. You must be content, darling, to have me always under the stain of a possible crime.”
“But couldn’t it have been Hal Kennedy?”
“Of course it was Hal who eloped with Ethel,—the cur,—the beast! But he didn’t shoot her. Hal’s too easy-going and good-natured to kill anybody. And why should he?”
“For the best reason in the world. Because he loved her, and couldn’t bear to see her marry you!”
“You’re imagining, Eileen.”
“Yes, but why mayn’t it be true? Hal had long been in love with Ethel, and after his plan of wrong-doing was frustrated, he tried, we’ll say, to get rid of his wife. Then, if he couldn’t do that, perhaps he was bound that if Ethel couldn’t be his wife, she shouldn’t be anybody’s, and so—”
“So he shot her at the altar? No, dearest, Hal couldn’t do it.”
“But—but his wife,—if that woman Charlotte saw was his wife,—oh, Stan, it’s all so mixed up! There’s no light anywhere!”
“There’s the light of our love, dearest. Let us go away from this town. What do you say to going far away from here to live? Your father could get another professorship, and if he didn’t it wouldn’t matter. I will always take care of him.”
“But it looks like running away. I want you cleared, dear.”
“I’ve told you, Eileen, you can’t have that. Be satisfied, my precious girl, with not discovering the murderer.”
“I don’t understand you, Stanford. Ethel was your wife, you can’t deny that. Why aren’t you desperately anxious to find the criminal and see him punished? Any other man would be?”
“There, there, my own girl, you promised not to ask me questions that I can’t, I won’t answer.”
“Not if I beg you to?” and Eileen put her lovely arms round his neck, and looked deep in his eyes with her whole soul of love shining from her own. “Not if I coax you like this?”—and her lips came close to his own, a rare caress, for Eileen as yet had permitted few kisses from him.
Bingham drew his breath sharply. “Stop, Eileen!” he cried. “I can’t bear it! If you kiss me, I will tell you everything!”
“Then tell!” and the warm, red lips met his. The entrance of Ford interrupted the scene. They heard his step outside, and with a quick movement they fell apart. Eileen, too shaken to speak to Ford, left the room by another door and fled upstairs. Bingham pulled himself together and faced the detective. Ford made no apology, for it was their habit to go about the house at will, and no room was deemed private.
“Why don’t you confide in me, Mr. Bingham? Surely, it would be better for all concerned. You must know I will make no wrong use of anything you may tell me, and there are so many bits to this puzzle, that it may well be, a stray hint or two might join them so as to present a perfect whole.”
“I’ll have to tell you one thing, Mr. Ford, for if I don’t, I fear it will come out in some other way, and make even more trouble. What do you think of Warry Swift in connection with the case?”
“Young Swift? I haven’t thought much about him. He seems a negligible quantity. Ferrall tells me they talked about him at first, but there is positively nothing to connect him with the crime. He did run away, I believe, but he soon ran back, with some cock-and-bull story about a clue that no one believed.”
“Yes, that’s all so, but, Mr. Ford, he took the diamond from—that was loosed from my—from Ethel’s throat as she fell.”
“Young Swift took that diamond! How do you know?”
“I saw him. As I have told you, the whole dreadful scene stunned me, but as I stood there watching them lift Ethel up, I saw the diamond fall to the floor, it hung from a mere thread of a chain, and I distinctly saw Warry pick it up and put it in his pocket. I will say this for him, he did it like a man in a daze, as if he scarce knew what he was doing, or as if he took it for safekeeping.”
“Why haven’t you told of this?”
“Because I couldn’t bear to bring Ethel’s cousin under a possible suspicion.”
“More than that! A very obvious suspicion. But Ferrall tells me you have that diamond.”
“And I told Ferrall I hadn’t. And I told the truth. Warry went away, you know, and when he returned, he came to my house, and gave me a diamond, saying that he had picked it up and kept it for me, and there it was.”
“Well?”
“Well, Mr. Ford, that was not my diamond that he gave me, but a paste stone just like it, which he had doubtless had made, or otherwise procured while he was away.”
“And Ferrall saw it?”
“Yes, they, Ferrall and Somers, chanced to come in while I was examining it to make sure. Startled, and anxious on Warry’s account, I dropped the stone into my ash tray. Ferrall saw me do it, and picked out the stone. Being dusty with ashes, he assumed it was the original. Perhaps he could not have told the difference between the two, anyway, but all over ashes he certainly could not. However he asked me if it was the stone I gave to my bride as a wedding gift, and I said it was not. He didn’t believe me, but I didn’t care. I only wanted to keep Warry’s name out of it all, till I had time to think what to do.”
“Are you not over-anxious about young Swift?”
“Mr. Ford, I feel decidedly guilty toward the Swift family for having treated Ethel as I did. Don’t think I don’t realize what a wrong I did her in turning my heart from her to another. I couldn’t control my affections; but none the less I feel sorry and ashamed of it all as it affected Ethel and the Swifts. So, not wanting to get any member of the family into further trouble, and especially Warren, who is the idol of his parents’ eyes, I tried not to let his theft of the stone get out. You can see for yourself what the next thought of him would be.”
“That he was the murderer, of course!”
“Yes, and I don’t believe for a moment that he is. But the least breath of suspicion against him would break his mother’s heart.”
“Of course it would. I’d like to see young Swift.”
“I’ve been wondering whether to go to see him or not. He knows I saw him take the stone. He knows I accepted the one he returned to me, without a word of objection. And I would be willing to let him keep the real stone rather than have the story get out. But he is not a clever man. He is quite capable of trying to dispose of it in a way to expose himself to discovery. No one could sell that diamond without being asked for its history.”
“Is it famous?”
“Not by name, and it is not internationally known. But it is big enough to be familiar by description to many dealers, and it is too valuable to be casually sold. Warry is sure to get into trouble if he tries it, and I feel sure he will try it.”
“You don’t think he is the murderer?” and Ford looked keenly at Bingham, without appearing to do so.
“He isn’t capable of a deed of blood. He is too timid and lacking in courage. Besides, what could be his motive?”
“Disappointed love?”
“No, I’m sure not. He and Ethel were always chums, and though he was more or less in love with her, he knew it was hopeless. No; Warry, I’m sure, took that diamond because he saw it there on the floor and couldn’t resist the temptation. That’s the whole story.”
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And it was. The two men went to see Warren Swift, and by tactful questioning and gentle measures they brought him to confess that he had done just what Bingham supposed. He had seen the stone fall from Ethel’s neck, and had picked it up for safe-keeping. He had thought Bingham saw him, but was not quite sure of it. So he pocketed the stone, and took it home with him. It was after that that temptation assailed him. He was deeply in debt, and in danger of humiliating exposures. He reasoned with himself, that as Ethel had willed him all her property, and as he had learned that her marriage nullified that will, he had no hope from that source. Bingham might help him, but in the circumstances he hated to ask help, so persuaded himself that the gem, being Ethel’s, was, in a way, his.
But this story was not told straightforwardly, or even coherently. The two men only got it out of him by careful and kindly questioning. Warry Swift was a nervous wreck, a ne’er-do-weel, who could never be a man.
“I don’t know,” was his usual reply to their queries as to his motives or impulses.
“It ought to be mine,” he repeated, sullenly, over and over. “Ethel wanted me to have all her stuff, and this was hers when she died.”
“Never mind the diamond, Warry,” said Bingham. “I mean, never mind who is the legal possessor of it. You have it still, haven’t you?”
“Yes; I was afraid to try to sell it.”
“And you may well be. Now, give it back to me, and I’ll pay off all your debts and let you start with a clean slate.”
“You’re a good fellow, Bing; you always were good to me. Here it is,” and from an inner pocket Warry produced the gem and handed it over to Bingham.
Ford looked at the miserable apology for a man. Swift was pale and haggard; his face was vacuous and weak. Surely he never had the necessary nerve to commit murder. And yet—who could say?
Stanford Bingham, too, looked at him thoughtfully. “You’re nothing but a boy, Warry,” he said; “and you never will be. But at least, you can be a good boy. Now, don’t say a word about this diamond business to any one. I will take care of it. But tell us, if you can, whether you chanced to notice a woman looking in at the church window during the ceremony?”
“A good-looker? A regular beauty? Yes, I saw her, while I stood there with you waiting for Ethel to come. Who was she?”
“What did she look like?”
“Oh, dark, sort of wicked, rather foreign, but a hummer, all right. Who was she?”
“We don’t know. Did you see her do anything?”
“Nope; just stood there looking in. She must have been up on something, outside, for her head nearly reached the upper window sash. She rested her hands on the sill. I had just noticed her, when the procession started up the aisle, and I never thought of her again. Why? What about her?”
“Nothing,” and Ford looked stern. “Now, see here, Mr. Swift, if you want to be helpful, please answer questions, but don’t ask them. First, what do you know of your cousin’s acquaintance with the young men of the town, before she became engaged to Mr. Bingham?”
Warry smiled a little. “Only that they were all daffy over her,—and she led them all a dance.”
“To be definite, then. How did she treat Mr. Kennedy?”
“Hal? Oh, she liked him some. He was dead gone on her about a year ago, just before she was engaged to Stan. But Ethel didn’t care specially about him. He had no money and no prospects. Just one of her beaux. She always had forty ’leven.”
“Do you know Kennedy well?”
“Yes, pretty well. We went on a fishing trip together last summer, and that’s when I found out that he was hopelessly in love with Ethel. We were gone all August, and he poured out his troubles to me like I was his father confessor.”
“All August? Last summer?”
“Yes; mother and dad were away, and I had the month’s vacation, and so did Hal. We went up to Lake Placid.”
“And stayed the whole month? Are you sure?”
“Sure I’m sure. Why?”
“Did Kennedy stay with you the whole time, or was he away a few days?”
“All the time there. Never budged. There were some girls there we liked, and we just loafed around, and fished daytimes, and danced evenings. Why?”
“Nothing,” reiterated Ford, and Bingham said, “Warry, I’m going to do all I can for you; I’ll say nothing of this diamond affair; I’ll help you financially, and any other way I can; all on condition that you repeat no word of what we have said to you, and that you say no word to any one concerning Ethel’s death. I mean, of course, in the way of suspicion or evidence. You know nothing, and, if you think you do, consult with me before you tell what you know. I tell you all this, for the police will doubtless try to quiz you. Remember, if you give them any hint of what Mr. Ford and I have talked to you about, you need not look to me for help with your affairs.”
The boy promised obedience as humbly as if he were a reprimanded child, and the two men went away.
“A sad example of a mother’s spoiled darling,” commented Bingham. “Warry Swift will never be a man, because he never was trained to be one.”
“He hasn’t much material to work on,” said Ford; “there must be some natural force before the twig is bent.”
“No one who knows him can ever connect him with murder,” said Bingham, positively; “and, by the way, his story of the Lake Placid trip seems to let Kennedy out.”
“It seems to, but I’m not prepared to say that it does. Going that way? Good-bye, Mr. Bingham; I’ve an errand across the street.”
The men parted, and Ford went to the office of Guy Farrish. The lawyer was out, and a bright-faced boy admitted him.
“When will Mr. Farrish return?” Ford asked.
“Said he’d be back soon, sir. That’s all I know.”
“I’ll wait,” and Ford seated himself at Farrish’s desk, ignoring the chair the boy indicated for him.
With a deliberate air he began to open the desk drawers. The boy stared. Then he fidgeted. Then he said, “Say, mister, do you think I’d ought to let you do that?”
“Oh, I guess so,” returned Ford, carelessly.
But when he had opened several unlocked drawers, and then with a queer-shaped bit of wire began to pick at the lock of one that would not open, the boy interfered.
“Stop! you!” he cried. “If you don’t I’ll telephone the police.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” said Ford, smiling genially at the boy. “You see—I’m sort of connected with the police myself. Just keep quiet, my young friend, and I’ll see that things go all right for you.”
Something in Ford’s eyes or manner convinced the boy, and he said no more.
“Besides, I’m through hunting now,” said Ford, pleasantly; “I’ve found what I want.”
What he wanted seemed to be a small, much folded bit of paper. When opened out it showed this:
Absorbedly interested, Ford pored over it, and the boy stared at him, both alarmed and fascinated at the strange procedure.
The door opened, and Guy Farrish came in. The boy, turning scared eyes, saw his master clench his hands and set his jaw as he saw the intruder, but Ford did not at once look up.
“A—hem,” said Farrish, with a quizzical smile.
Ford raised his head, and smiled at his host. “Ah, Mr. Farrish, have you come back?”
“I have. Is it asking too much to desire an explanation of this rather unusual scene?”
“Not at all. I wanted to see the bit of music that you said you had destroyed.”
“You doubted my word?”
“To be frank, yes, I did. But you certainly have no objection to my seeing this.”
Guy Farrish looked thoughtful and a little sad. “I have not, Mr. Ford. None at all. But I am quite willing to admit that I do not like the way you have chosen to get sight of it. I know you are a celebrated detective, and so have rights that ordinary citizens do not possess. But I did not know they included breaking into a man’s de
sk in his absence.”
“Perhaps I have overstepped my rights in my eagerness to see this especial bit of paper. But you were not here, and I was in rather a hurry and so—”
“How did you know it was there?”
“Miss Randall remembered seeing you put it in this drawer the day she brought it here to you. Then when you told us you had destroyed it, I thought, perhaps, you might be mistaken.”
“I was not mistaken,” said Farrish, gravely, after he had sent his boy out of the room and closed the door. “I saved the paper, but I did not want you nor any one else to see it.”
“Why not?”
“You know why not,” and the lawyer passed his hand wearily across his brow. “Because it definitely incriminates Stanford Bingham in that murder business.”
“Might it not be better, after all, Mr. Farrish, for us to face this incrimination out in the open?”
“I’m not sure but it would, Mr. Ford. If you think so, go ahead.”
“As you know, I am working for Mr. Bingham’s interests. I do not think he killed his bride, and yet, I cannot find evidence in any other direction. Perhaps if we hunt down this cipher clue, it may turn in his favour instead of against him.”
“Then do so, by all means. I am truly glad to cease trying to shield him from suspicion. I did substitute another paper for this, in the hope that the matter would be dropped. But since it isn’t, I admit my part in the matter, and now turn the whole affair over to you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Farrish, for your co-operation. And, also, for your good-natured acceptance of my intrusion here.”
“Oh, that doesn’t bother me. I knew as soon as I saw you, what you were after, and that you would disturb nothing else. And as I have no objection to your having the paper, I overlook your method of getting it, and set it down to the love of the detective nature for spectacular performance.”
“Yes, we are credited with dramatic inclinations. Now let us read this together. You found the key?”
The Alan Ford Mystery MEGAPACK® Page 15
