The Mystery Girl

by Carolyn Wells

  CHAPTER XI THE SPINSTER'S EVIDENCE

  "That matter can easily be settled," Cray said, and going to the door heasked Mrs. Adams to send Miss Bascom to them.

  With an important air the spinster entered the room.

  Holding herself very erect and even drawing aside her skirts as shepassed Miss Austin, she took a seat on the other side of the room.

  "Now, Miss Bascom," Cray began at once, "what made you think of lookingin this lady's bureau drawer for that money?"

  "I didn't look for it, Mr. Cray. I merely felt that she had done wrongand I thought perhaps some evidence would be hidden away in her room. Anda top drawer is the place a woman oftenest hides things."

  Cray gave a short laugh. "Rather clever of you, I admit. But Miss Austinsays she did not put that money there, herself--that it was a plant."

  "A plant?" Miss Bascom looked puzzled at the word.

  "Yes; she thinks some in-disposed person put it there to implicate her,falsely."

  "Oh, I see. Well, Mr. Cray, let her say who did it, and who could havegot that money to do it with."

  The hard old face took on a look that was almost malignant in itsaccusation, and little Anita Austin gave a low cry as she saw it, and hidher face in her hands.

  "Take her away," she moaned, "oh, take that woman away."

  "You hear her," Miss Bascom went on, unrelentingly. "Now, Mr. Cray, I'm abit of a detective myself, and while you've been down here talking toMiss Mystery, I've been searching her room more carefully, and I've founda few more things, of which I should like to tell you."

  Cray was nonplused. His sympathies were all with the poor little girl,who, clinging to the arms of her chair, seemed about to go to pieces,nervously, but was bravely holding on to herself. Yet, if the Bascomwoman was telling the truth, he must beware of the "poor little girl."

  "I'm not sure you're within your rights, Miss Bascom," he began, but hewas interrupted with:

  "Rights! Indeed, the rights of this matter are above your jurisdiction!The blood of John Waring calls from the ground! I am the instrument ofjustice that has been chosen by an over-ruling Providence to discover thecriminal. She sits before you! That girl--that mysterious wicked girl isboth thief and murderess!"

  "Oh, no!" Anita cried, putting up her arm as if to ward off a physicalblow.

  Then she suddenly became quiet--almost rigid in her composure.

  "That is a grave accusation, Miss Bascom," she said, "you must prove itor retract it."

  Cray stared at the girl in astonishment. Her agonized cry had been human,feminine, natural--but this sudden change to stony calm, to icy hauteurwas amazing--and, to his mind, incriminating.

  Miss Bascom, however, was in no way daunted.

  "Prove it I will!" she said, sternly. "In another drawer, Mr. Cray, Ifound the rolls of silver coin--exactly one hundred dollars worth--thatwe have been told were in the desk with the roll of bills. The ruby pin,you know about. And so, these thefts are proved. Now, as to the murder--Iadmit, it seems impossible that a girl should commit the awful crime--butI do say that I have found the weapon, with which it was done, hidden inMiss Austin's room."

  Again that short, low cry--more like a hurt animal than a human being.And then, Anita Austin, the girl of mystery fell back into the depths ofher chair, and closed her eyes.

  "You needn't faint--or pretend to," admonished Miss Bascom, brutally;"you're caught red-handed, and you know it, and you may as well give up."

  "I didn't--I didn't--" came in low moans, but the girl's bravery haddeserted her. Limp and despairing, she turned her great eyes toward Crayfor help.

  With an effort, he looked away from her pleading face, and said:

  "What is the weapon? Where did you find it?"

  "It is a stiletto--an embroidery stiletto--and I found it tucked down inthe crevice between the back and seat of a stuffed chair in Miss Austin'sroom. Did you put it there?"

  She turned on the girl and fired the question at her with intentionalsuddenness, and though Anita uttered a scared, "No," it was a palpableuntruth.

  "She did," Miss Bascom went on. "You can see for yourself, Mr. Cray, sheis lying."

  "But even if she is, Miss Bascom, I must ask you to cease torturing her!I can't stand for such cruelty!"

  Cray's manhood revolted at the methods of the older woman who was causingsuch anguish to the poor child she accused.

  "You are not a legal inquisitor, Miss Bascom," he went on; "it is for meto establish the truth or falsity of your suspicions."

  "Yes, you! You're like all the other men! If a girl is pretty andalluring, you would believe her statement that white is black!"

  "I believe no statements that cannot be proved to my satisfaction. MissAustin, do you own an embroidery stiletto?"

  "Yes," was the hesitating answer, and the dark eyes swept him abeseeching glance that made Miss Bascom fairly snort with scorn.

  "Where is it?"

  "I--I fear I must admit that it is just where Miss Bascom says itis--unless she has removed it. Tell me, Mr. Cray," and Miss Mysterysuddenly resumed her most independent air, "must I submit to this? Ithought accused people were entitled to a--oh, you know, counsel--alawyer, or somebody to take care of them."

  "Wait, Miss Austin. You're not accused yet--that is, not by legalauthority."

  "Oh, am I not? Then--" and she gave Miss Bascom a glance of unutterablescorn, "I have nothing to say."

  "Nothing to say!" the spinster almost shrieked. "Nothing to say! Ofcourse she hasn't! She kills a man, takes his valuables, and thendeclares she has nothing to say."

  "Now, now, Miss Bascom, be careful! Why did you put your stiletto in sucha place, Miss Austin?"

  "I don't know."

  The dark eyes gave him a gaze of childlike innocence, and Cray couldn'tdecide whether he was looking at a deep-dyed criminal or a helplessvictim of unjust suspicion.

  "And where did you get the money and the ruby pin?"

  "I don't know--I mean I don't know how they got in my room. This ladysays she found them there--that's all I know about them."

  An indifferent shrug of the slim shoulders seemed to imply that was allMiss Mystery cared, either, and Cray asked:

  "Then, if the valuables--the pin and the money are not yours, you are, ofcourse, ready to relinquish possession of them."

  "Of course I am not! Since I am accused of stealing them, I propose toretain possession until that accusation is proved or disproved! PerhapsMiss Bascom wishes to take them herself."

  "You know, Miss Austin," Mr. Cray spoke very gravely, "you are making amistake in treating this matter flippantly. You are in danger--realdanger, and you must be careful what you say. Do you want a lawyer?"

  "I don't know," the girl suddenly looked helpless. "Do you think I oughtto have one?"

  "Have you funds?"

  "Yes. I am not a rich girl--but, neither am I poor. However, I think Ishall ask advice of some one before I decide upon any course."

  "Of whom? Perhaps no one can advise you better than I can."

  "What is your advice, Mr. Cray?"

  The sweet face looked at him hopefully, the curved red lips quivered alittle as the speaker added, "I am very alone."

  Again Miss Bascom sniffed. Unattractive, herself, she resented with asort of angry jealousy the appealing effect this girl had on men. Sheknew intuitively that Cray would sympathize with and pity the lonelygirl.

  "My advice is, Miss Austin, first, that you dispel this mystery thatseems to surround you. Tell frankly who you are, what is your errand inCorinth, how you came into possession of Doctor Waring's ruby, and whyyou hid your stiletto, if it is merely one of your sewing implements."

  Miss Mystery hesitated a moment, and then said, quietly:

  "Your advice is good, Mr. Cray. But, unfortunately, I cannot follow it.However, I am willing to state, upon oath, that I did not kill DoctorWaring with that stiletto."

  "I'm afraid your oath will be doubted," Miss
Bascom intervened sharply."And, too, Mr. Cray, even if this girl did not strike the fatal blow, shewell knows who did! She is in league with the Japanese, Nogi. That I amsure of!"

  "Nogi!" exclaimed Anita.

  "Yes, Nogi," Miss Bascom went on, positively. "You came here only a dayor two after he did. You have a Japanese kimono, and several Japaneseornaments adorn your room. You went to the Waring house that night, Nogilet you in and out, and though the Japanese doubtless committed themurder, you stole the money and the ruby, and then, your partner in crimedeparted for parts unknown."

  Miss Bascom sat back in her chair with a look of triumph on her plain,gaunt face.

  Clearly, she was rejoiced at her denunciation of the girl before her, andpleased at the irrefutable theory she had promulgated.

  "And how did Miss Austin or the Jap, either, leave the room locked on theinside?" propounded Cray, his own opinions already swayed by thearraignment.

  "That," said Miss Bascom, with an air of finality, "I can't explaindefinitely, but I am sure it was an example of Japanese jugglery. Whenyou remember the tales of how the Japanese can do seemingly impossibletricks, can swallow swords and get out of locked handcuffs, it is quitewithin the realm of possibility that one could lock a door behind him,and give it the appearance of having been locked from the inside."

  Now, Cray had already concluded that the door had been cleverly locked bysome one, but he hadn't before thought of the cleverness of the Japanese.

  He rose almost abruptly, and said, "I must look into some of thesematters. Miss Austin, you need not attempt to leave town, for you willnot be able to do so."

  "I most certainly shall not attempt to leave--as you express it--if I amasked not to. But, I may say, that when I am entirely at liberty to doso, I propose to go away from Corinth."

  Her dignity gave no effect of a person afraid or alarmed for her ownsafety, merely a courteous recognition of Cray's attitude and a frankstatement of her own intentions.

  Miss Bascom sniffed and said:

  "Don't worry, Mr. Cray. I'll see to it, that this young woman does notsucceed in evading justice, if she tries to do so."

  At which Miss Mystery gave her a smile that was so patronizing, evenamused, that the spinster was more irate than ever.

  "And, now, Miss Austin," the attorney said, "I'll take your fingerprints, please, as they may be useful in proving what you did not do."

  He smiled a little as the girl readily enough gave her consent to theprocedure.

  "And," he went on, more gravely, "I will ask you for one of yourshoes--one that you wore on Sunday."

  Surprised into a glance of dismay, Miss Mystery rose without a word andwent upstairs for the shoe.

  She returned with the dainty, pretty thing, and merely observed, "I'dlike to have it back, when you are through with it."

  Putting the shoe in his overcoat pocket, Cray went away.

  "Miss Bascom," Anita said, turning to her enemy, "may you never want afriend as much as I do now."

  "The nerve of her!" Liza Bascom muttered to herself, as Miss Mystery wentupstairs to her own room.

  "There's a very deep mystery here!" Cray soliloquized, as he returned tothe Waring house. "But I'm getting light on it."

  Cray was far from lacking in ingenuity, and he proceeded at once tocompare the finger prints he had of Anita Austin with the prints on thesmall black-framed chair that had been found drawn up to the desk chairof John Waring.

  They were identical and Cray mused over the fact.

  "That girl was here that night," he decided; "there's no gainsayingthat." He called the butler to him.

  "Ito," he began, "did you let in any one late Sunday night--after youcame home?"

  "No, sir," the imperturbable Jap declared, thinking the question foolish,as all the inquirers knew the details of his Sunday evening movements.

  "Do you remember seeing this chair, Monday morning?"

  "Distinctly. I saw Mr. Lockwood smoothing its back."

  "Smoothing its back! What do you mean?"

  "I looked through from the dining-room window, to see if Mr. Lockwood wascoming to breakfast, and I perceived him carefully smoothing the plush ofthe little chair, sir."

  Cray meditated. Here was a point of evidence. Lockwood was not the sortto absent-mindedly paw over a chair back. He was doing it on purpose. Forwhat reason? What reason could be, save to erase some evidence?

  Cray examined the chair. It had a frame of shiny black wood, while seatand back were covered with a dark plush of a fine soft quality.

  Cray drew his fingers across the back. They left a distinct trail offurrows in the fabric.

  Ito, watching, nodded his head, gravely.

  "Not finger-prints," Cray said to himself--"but, maybe finger-marks.Whose?"

  "You surely saw this, Ito?"

  "Yes, sir; and Miss Peyton also saw. She was then in the doorway, askingMr. Lockwood to come to breakfast."

  Cray went in search of Helen and put the question to her suddenly.

  "What was Gordon Lockwood doing, when you went to call him to breakfast,Monday morning?"

  "He was--I don't remember."

  "Speak the truth--or it may be mean trouble for you and him, too."

  "He was--he seemed to be dusting off a chair."

  "With a duster?"

  "No; just passing over it with his hand."

  "That isn't dusting it."

  "Well, I don't know what you call it! Perhaps he was merely pushing thechair into place."

  "It isn't his custom to push the study furniture into place. He waserasing indicative marks on that plush chair back--that's what he wasdoing."

  "Absurd!" Helen cried; "what marks could there be?"

  "I don't know. Come and let us see."

  Cray took Helen to the study, and asked her to sit in the chair.

  "Lean back," he directed. "Now, get up."

  The girl obeyed, and there was plainly seen on the plush the faint butunmistakable imprint of the beaded design that adorned the back of thefrock she wore.

  "I told you so!" Cray said, in triumph. "That plush registers everyimpress, and when Lockwood rubbed it smooth it was to erase a damagingbit of testimony."

  "Rather far-fetched, Mr. Cray," said Gordon Lockwood himself, who hadcome in and had heard and seen the latter part of the detective'sinvestigation.

  "Not so very, Mr. Lockwood, when you learn that the finger prints on thechair frame are your own and those of a certain young person who isalready under suspicion."

  Gordon Lockwood, as always under a sudden stress, became even moreimpassive, and his eyes glittered as he faced the attorney.

  "Don't be too absurd, Mr. Cray," he advised, coldly. "I suppose you meanMiss Austin--I prefer to have no veiled allusions. But the finding of herfinger prints on a chair in this room, and mine also, does not seem to meto be in any way evidence of crime."

  "No?" Cray gave him scorn for scorn. "Perhaps then, you can explain MissAustin's presence here that night."

  "I don't know that she was here--and I most certainly could not explainany of her movements. But I do deny your right to assume her guilty fromher presence."

  "Ah, you tacitly admit her presence, then. Indeed, one can scarcely doubtit, when it is shown that this little shoe of hers," he took it from hispocket, "exactly fits the prints that cross the field of snow betweenhere and the Adams house."

  "To measure footprints--after all this time!" and Lockwood's lip curled.

  "The prints are exactly as they were made, Mr. Lockwood. The unchangingcold weather has kept them intact. I tried this shoe, and the prints areunmistakable. Moreover, the short stride is just the measure of thenatural steps of Miss Austin. The footprints lead from the Adams houseover here and back again. The returning prints occasionally overlap theones that came this way, showing that the trip away from this house wasmade latest. Miss Austin was seen to come over in this direction--well,none but a half-wit would be blind to the inevitable conclusions!"

  "None but a ha
lf-wit would read into this evidence what you pretend tosee," retorted Lockwood, almost losing his calm.

  "That's my business," Cray said, sharply: "now, Mr. Lockwood, why did yousmooth off that chair back? Careful, now, two witnesses saw you do it."

  "I'm not denying it"--Lockwood smiled in a bored, superior way, "but if Idid it, I was--and am unconscious of it. One often touches a piece offurniture in passing with no thought of doing so."

  "That won't go down. Both the butler and Miss Peyton saw you definitelyand deliberately rub over the back of that chair. Why did you do it?"

  Cray was inexorable.

  But the impassive secretary merely shrugged his shoulders.

  "I can't answer you, Mr. Cray. I can only repeat it must have been anunconscious act on my part, and it has no sinister significance. I mayhave been merely pushing the chair out of my way, you know."

  "Look here, Mr. Lockwood, you are a man of honor. Do you, upon oath,declare that you did not purposely smooth that chairback, for the reasonthat it showed some incriminating impress?"

  "I am not under oath. I have stated that I did not do what you accuse meof, and I have nothing further to say on the subject."

  Lockwood drew himself up and leaned with folded arms against themantelpiece.

  Cray dropped the subject, but his snapping eyes and compressed lipsseemed to show he had not finally dismissed it.

  "At what time," he said, abruptly, "did Doctor Waring lock his studydoor?"

  "About ten o'clock," the secretary replied.

  "And you heard nothing from the room after that? No sound of voices?Nobody coming in at the French window?"

  "No," replied Lockwood.

  "Then we are forced to the conclusion that whoever entered did so veryquietly, that it was with the knowledge and permission of Doctor Waringhimself, that the visitor was the person whose footprints lead straightto the door, and whose finger prints are on the chair that stood near theDoctor's own chair. We are borne out in this view by the fact that thesame person now possesses the money and the ruby pin which we know DoctorWaring had in his room with him, and we know that the person is here inCorinth for unexplained reasons, and is, in fact, so peculiar that she isknown as--Miss Mystery. Just why, Mr. Lockwood, are you arguing againstthese obvious inferences, and why do you undertake to free from suspicionone against whom everything is so definitely black?"

  "Because," Lockwood spoke very quietly, but his jaw was set in a stubbornway, "the lady you call Miss Mystery, is a young and defenseless girl,without, so far as I know, a friend in this town. It is unfair to accuseher on the strength of this fantastic story and it is unfair to condemnher unheard."

  "Not unheard," said the attorney, "but what she says only incriminatesher more deeply."