by Jack Steele
CHAPTER VIII
WHERE CLEWS MAY POINT
Startled, thus to discover that, after all, a crime of the mostinsidious and diabolical nature had been committed, Garrison wanderedalong the street, after quitting the drug-store, with his brain aglowwith excitement and the need for steady thought.
The case that had seemed but a simple affair of a man's very naturaldemise had suddenly assumed an aspect black as night.
He felt the need for light--all the light procurable in Hickwood.
Aware of the misleading possibilities of a theory preconceived, he wasnot prepared even now to decide that inventor Scott was necessarilyguilty. He found himself obliged to admit that the indications pointedto the half-crazed man, to whom a machine had become a god, but nothingas yet had been proved.
To return to Scott this morning would, he felt, be indiscreet. The oneperson now to be seen and interviewed was Mrs. Wilson, at whose homethe man Hardy had been lodged. He started at once to the place, hismind reverting by natural process to the box of cigars he had seen anhour before, and from which, without a doubt, this poisoned weed hadbeen taken by Hardy to smoke. He realized that one extremely importantpoint must be determined by the box itself.
If among the cigars still remaining untouched there were otherssimilarly poisoned, the case might involve a set of facts quitedifferent from those which reason would adduce if the one cigar onlyhad been loaded. It was vital also to the matter in hand to ascertainthe identity of the person who had presented the smokes as a birthdayremembrance to the victim.
He arrived at Mrs. Wilson's home, was met at the door by the ladyherself, and was then obliged to wait interminably while she fled tosome private boudoir at the rear to make herself presentable for"company."
For the second time, when she at length appeared, Garrison foundhimself obliged to invent a plausible excuse for his visit andcuriosity.
"I dropped in to ascertain a few little facts about the late Mr. Hardy,whose death occurred last week in Branchville," he said. "Theinsurance company that I represent goes through this trifling formalitybefore paying a claim."
"He certainly was the nicest man," said Mrs. Wilson. "And just as Iwas countin' on the money, he has to up and die. I didn't think he wasthat kind."
"Did he have many visitors?" Garrison asked, hastening at once to theitems he felt to be important. "I mean, from among the neighbors,or--anyone else?"
"Well, Charlie Scott come over, that second night and actin' that queerI didn't know what was the matter. He went off just about nineo'clock, and I went to bed, and then I heard him come back in half anhour, while Mr. Hardy was out, and he went again before Mr. Hardy comein and started off to Branchville to die."
Her method of narrative was puzzling.
"You mean," said Garrison, "that after Mr. Scott had called and gone,Mr. Hardy went out temporarily, and in his absence Mr. Scott returnedand remained for a time in his room?"
"I didn't git up to see what he wanted, or how long he stayed," saidMrs. Wilson. "I hate gittin' up when once I'm abed."
"And he went before Mr. Hardy's return?"
"Yes, I stayed awake for that; for although Charlie Scott may be honestenough, he's inventin' some crazy fiddlede-dee, which has been thecrown of thorns of that dear woman all these----"
"Did they seem to be friends, Mr. Scott and Mr. Hardy?" Garrisoninterrupted mildly. "A clever woman, you know, can always tell."
"Ain't you New York men the quick ones to see!" said Mrs. Wilson. "Ofcourse they was friends. The day he come Mr. Hardy was over toCharlie's all the livelong afternoon."
"Did Mr. Hardy get very many letters, or anything, through the mail?"
"Well, of course, I offered to go to the post-office, and bring himeverything," said Mrs. Wilson, "but he went himself. So I don't knowwhat he got, or who it come from. Not that I read anything but thepostals and----"
"Did he get any packages sent by express?"
"Not that come to my house, for little Jimmie Vane would have brought'em straight to me."
Garrison went directly to the mark around which he had been playing.
"Who delivered his birthday present--the box of cigars?"
"Oh, that was his niece, the very first evenin' he was here--and shethe prettiest girl I ever seen."
"His niece?" echoed Garrison. "Some young lady--who brought them hereherself?"
"Well, I should say so! My, but she was that lovely! He took her upto Branchville to the train--and how I did hate to see her go!"
"Of course, yes, I remember he had a niece," said Garrison, his mindreverting to the "statement" in his pocket. "But, upon my word, Ibelieve I've forgotten her name."
"He called her Dot," said Mrs. Wilson.
"But her real name?" said Garrison.
"Her real name was Dorothy Booth before she was married," replied Mrs.Wilson, "but now, of course, it's changed."
Garrison had suddenly turned ashen. He managed to control himself bymaking a very great effort.
"Perhaps you know her married name?" he said.
"I never forget a thing like that," said Mrs. Wilson. "Her marriedname is Mrs. Fairfax."
It seemed to Garrison he was fighting in the toils of some astoundingmaze, where sickening mists arose to clog his brain. He could scarcelybelieve his senses. A tidal wave of facts and deductions, centeringabout the personality of Dorothy Booth-Fairfax, surged upon himrelentlessly, bearing down and engulfing the faith which he strove tomaintain in her honesty.
He had felt from the first there was something deep and dark withmystery behind the girl who had come to his office with her mostamazing employment. He had entertained vague doubts upon hearing ofwills and money inheritance at the house where she lived in New York.
He recalled the start she had given, while playing at the piano, uponlearning he was leaving for Hickwood. Her reticence and thestrangeness of the final affair of the necklaces, in connection withthis present development, left him almost in despair.
Despite it all, as it overwhelmed him thus abruptly, he felt himselfstruggling against it. He could not even now accept a belief in hercomplicity in such a deed while he thought of the beauty of her nature.That potent something she had stirred in his heart was a fierce,fighting champion to defend her.
He had not dared confess to himself he was certainly, fatefully fallingin love with this girl he scarcely knew, but his heart refused to hearher accused and his mind was engaged in her defence.
Above all else, he felt the need for calmness. Perhaps the sky wouldclear itself, and the sun again gild her beauty.
"Mrs. Fairfax," he repeated to his garrulous informant. "She broughtthe cigars, you say, the day of Mr. Hardy's arrival?"
"And went away on the six-forty-three," said Mrs. Wilson. "I rememberit was six minutes late, and I did think my dinner would be dry as abone, for she said she couldn't stay----"
"And that was his birthday," Garrison interrupted.
"Oh, no. His birthday was the day he died. I remember, 'cause hewouldn't even open the box of cigars till after his dinner that day."
Garrison felt his remaining ray of hope faintly flicker and expire.
"You are sure the box wasn't opened?" he insisted.
"I guess I am! He borrowed my screwdriver out of the sewin'-machinedrawer, where I always keep it, to pry up the cover."
Garrison tacked to other items.
"Why did she have to go so soon?" he inquired. "Couldn't she havestayed here with you?"
"What, a young thing like her, only just married?" demanded Mrs.Wilson, faintly blushing. "I guess you don't know us women when we'rein love." And she blushed again.
"Of course," answered Garrison, at a loss for a better reply. "Did heruncle seem pleased with her marriage?"
"Why, he sat where you're now settin' for one solid hour, tellin' mehow tickled he felt," imparted the housewife. "He said she'd giteverything he had in the world, now that she was married happy to adecent man, for he
'd fixed it all up in his will."
"Mr. Hardy said his niece would inherit his money?"
"Settin' right in that chair, and smilin' fit to kill."
"Did the niece seem very fond of her uncle?"
"Well, at first I thought she acted queer and nervous," answered Mrs.Wilson, "but I made up my mind that was the natural way for any youngbride to feel, especial away from her husband."
Garrison's hopes were slipping from him, one by one, and putting ontheir shrouds.
"Did Mr. Hardy seem to be pleased with his niece's selection--with Mr.Fairfax?" he inquired. "Or don't you know?"
"Why, he never even _seen_ the man," replied Mrs. Wilson. "It seemsMr. Fairfax was mixin' up business with his honeymoon, and him and hisbride was goin' off again, or was on their way, and she had a chance torun up and see her uncle for an hour, and none of us so much as got alook at Mr. Fairfax."
The mystery darkened rather than otherwise. There was nothing yet toestablish whether or not a real Mr. Fairfax existed. It appeared toGarrison that Dorothy had purposely arranged the scheme of her allegedmarriage and honeymoon in such a way that her uncle should not meet herhusband.
He tried another query:
"Did Mr. Hardy say that he had never seen Mr. Fairfax?"
"Never laid eyes on the man in his life, but expected to meet him in amonth."
Garrison thought of the nephew who had come to claim the body. Hisname had been given as Durgin. At the most, he could be no more thanDorothy's cousin, and not the one he had recently met at her house.
"I don't suppose you saw Mr. Durgin, the nephew of Mr. Hardy?" heinquired. "The man who claimed the body?"
"No, sir. I heard about Mr. Durgin, but I didn't see him."
Garrison once more changed the topic.
"Which was the room that Mr. Hardy occupied? Perhaps you'll let me seeit."
"It ain't been swept or dusted recent," Mrs. Wilson informed him,rising to lead him from the room, "but you're welcome to see it, if youdon't mind how it looks."
The apartment was a good-sized room, at the rear of the house. It wassituated on a corner, with windows at the side and rear. Against thefront partition an old-fashioned fireplace had been closed with adecorated cover. The neat bed, the hair-cloth chairs, and a table thatstood on three of its four legs only, supplied the furnishings. Thecoroner had taken every scrap he could find of the few things possessedby Mr. Hardy.
"Nice, cheerful room," commented Garrison. "Did he keep the windowsclosed and locked?"
"Oh, no! He was a wonderful hand to want the air," said the landlady."And he loved the view."
The view of the shed and hen-coops at the rear was duly exhibited.Garrison did his best to formulate a theory to exonerate Dorothy fromknowledge of the crime; but his mind had received a blow at these newdisclosures, and nothing seemed to aid him in the least. He could onlyfeel that some dark deed lay either at the door of the girl who hadpaid him to masquerade as her husband, or the half-crazed inventor downthe street.
And the toils lay closer to Dorothy, he felt, than they did to Scott.
"You have been very helpful, I am sure," he said to Mrs. Wilson.
He bade her good-by and left the house, feeling thoroughly depressed inall his being.
