CHAPTER XVII PLANNING AN ELOPEMENT
There was some sort of telepathy or some subconscious impulse that madeAnita Austin open her bedroom door in response to a light tap, althoughshe had resolved to talk to nobody just then.
But when she saw Gordon Lockwood she was glad she had, and, withoutwaiting for an invitation he stepped inside the room and closed the door.
He looked at her with a face full of compassion and love, but he spoke asone who must attend to an important business.
"Anita," he said, speaking very low, "the crisis has come. They havelearned of the check Doctor Waring gave you that night, and it is thelast straw. Stone is already, I think, convinced of your guilt, and thatyoung chap, McGuire, will get at the bottom of everything, I'm sure."
"Check? What do you mean?" Miss Mystery said, with a blank look on herface.
"Don't equivocate with me, dear." Lockwood laid his hand gently on hers."There's no time now to tell you of my love, as I want to tell it. Now,we can only assume that it is all told, that we are engaged, and that weare to be married at once. We are going to elope, Anita."
"Elope!" she stared at him, but her eyes grew soft and her pale cheeksflushed. "What _do_ you mean?"
"It isn't a pretty word," Gordon smiled, "but it's the only thing to do,you see. If you stay here, you'll be arrested. If you go, I go with you.So--we both go, and that makes it an elopement."
"But, Gordon--"
"But, Anita--answer me just one question--do you love me?"
"Yes," with an adorable upward glance and smile.
"More than you loved Doctor Waring?"
Their eyes met. Lockwood's usually inscrutable face was desperatelyeager, and his deep eyes showed smouldering passion. He held her by theshoulders, he looked steadily at her, awaiting her answer.
"Yes," she said, at last, her lovely lips quivering.
"That's all I want to know!" he whispered, triumphantly, as he kissed thescarlet lips, and drew the slender form into his embrace.
"You must know more--" she began, "and--and I can't tell you. Oh,Gordon--"
She hid her face on his broad shoulder, and he gently stroked her hair,as he said:
"Don't tell me anything now, dearest. Don't ever tell me, unless youchoose. And, anyway, I know it all. I know you had never known the Doctorbefore, and I'll tell you how I know. I found in his scrap basket a noteto you--"
"A note to me!" Fresh terror showed in the dark eyes.
"Yes--don't mind. No one else ever saw it. I burned it. But it said,'Darling Anita. Since you came into my life, life is worth living'--orsomething like that--"
"When--when did he write that?"
"Sometime on that fatal Sunday. I suppose after he met you in theafternoon, and before you came that evening. Remember, Sweetheart, ifever you want to tell me all about that late visit to him, do so. But, ifnot, I never shall ask or expect you to. But that's all in thefuture--our dear future, which we shall spend together--together, Anita!Are you glad?"
"Oh, so glad!" and the soft arms crept round his neck and Miss Mysterygave him a kiss that thrilled his very soul. "Will you take care of me,Gordon?"
"Take care of you, my little love! Take care of you, is it? Just give methe chance!"
"You seem to have a pretty big chance, right now," a smiling face reachedup to his. "But--" she seemed suddenly to recollect something, "about acheck--he didn't give me a check--"
Lockwood laid a hand over her mouth.
"Hush, dearest. Don't tell me things that aren't--aren't so. I saw thestub--a check for ten thousand dollars--made out to Anita Austin, anddated that very Sunday. Now, hush--" as she began to speak, "we've notime to talk these things over. I tell you the police are on your track.They will come here, they will arrest you--try to get that in your head.I am going to save you--first, for your own sweet sake, and also for myown."
"But, Gordon, wait a minute. Do you believe I killed John Waring?"
Lockwood looked at her.
"Don't ask me that, Anita. And, truly, I don't know whether I believe itor not. I know you have told falsehoods, I know you were there thatnight, I know of his letter to you, of the check and of the ruby pin andthe money. But I--no, I do not know that you killed him. There are manyother theories possible--there's Nogi--but, my darling, it all makes nodifference. I love you, I want you, whatever the circumstances orconditions of your life, or your deeds. I love you so, that I want youeven if you are a criminal--for in that case, I want to protect and saveyou. Now, don't tell me you did or didn't kill the man, for--" he gaveher a whimsical smile, "I couldn't believe you in either case! I've notmuch opinion of your veracity, and, too, it's too big a matter to talkabout now. Of course I don't believe you killed him! You, my little love!And yet, the evidence is so overpowering that I--believe you did killhim! There, how's that for a platform? Now, let all those things be, andget ready to go away with me. I tell you we're going to elope and mightyquickly too. The difficulty is, to get away unseen. But it must be done.Pack a small handbag--a very small one. I'll plan our way out--and if wecan make a getaway under the noses of Stone and his boy, we'll soon beall right. I've a friend who will motor us to a nearby town, where a dearold minister, who has known and loved me from boyhood, will marry us."
"Doesn't he know about--about me?"
"My little girl, leave all the details of this thing to me. Don't botheryour lovely head about it. It will be all right--trust me--if we canescape."
"Is it right for me to go? Oughtn't I stay and--what do they call it?give myself up?"
"Anita, if I didn't love you so, I'd scold you, hard! Now, you obey yourfuture lord and master, and get ready for a hurry-up wedding, I'm sorrythat you can't have bridesmaids and choir boys--but, you'll pardon me, Iknow, if I remind you that that isn't my fault."
Miss Mystery looked up and broke into laughter. Truly, she was a mystery!Her gayety was as spontaneous and merry as if she had never heard ofcrime or tragedy.
Lockwood gazed at her curiously, and then nodded his handsome head, as hesaid, "You'll do, Anita! You're a little bit of all right."
But in a moment her mood changed.
"Gordon, we can't," she said, slowly. "We never can get away from thishouse--let alone the detectives. Miss Bascom is on continual watch andMrs. Adams--"
"I know, dear. That's it. I thought if you could manage that part, I'dsee to evading the Stone faction. Can't you think up a plan?"
"Love will find a way," she whispered, and unable to resist the invitingsmile, Gordon again caught her in his arms, and held her close in anecstasy of possession.
"You are so sweet," he murmured, with an air of saying somethingimportant. "Oh, my Little Girl, how I love you! The moment I first sawyou--"
"When was that?"
"That night at--at the Doctor's lectures. I sat behind you, I changed myseat to do so--and I counted the buttons on your dear little grayfrock--that was one way I discovered your presence in the study thatnight." He spoke gravely now. "And there was another way. I heard youtalking. Yes, I heard your blessed voice--remember, I loved you then--andI heard Waring talking to you. I could make out no word--I didn'ttry--but now I wish I had--for it might help you."
"I wish you had, Gordon," she returned, solemnly, "it would have helpedme."
"But you can tell me, dear, tell me all the conversation. Surely youtrust me now."
"I trust you--but--oh, as you say, there's no time. It's a long story--adreadful story--I don't want to tell you--"
"Then you shan't. I've promised you that, you know. Not until you want totell me, will I ask for a word of it."
"Now, here's another thing," and Anita blushed, deeply, "if we goaway--as you say--what about--about money?"
Lockwood stared at her. "I have money," he said; "why do you ask that?"
"But--but the awful detective people--said you--you were terribly indebt."
"Brave little girl, to say that. I know you hated to. Well, my dar
ling,those precious bills that those precious detectives dug up in my desk,are old bills that were owed by my father--his name was the same asmine--"
"The same as yours! How queer!"
"Oh, not a unique instance. Anyway, those bills I am paying off as I can.I'm not legally responsible for them, but I want to clear my dad's name,and all that. Now, all that can wait--while I take unto me a wife, andarrange for her comfort and convenience. But, is there--now remember, I'mnot prying--is there any one whose permission you must ask to marry me?"
"No, I'm twenty-one--that's of age in any state."
"Why, you aged person! I deemed you about eighteen."
"Do you mind?"
"No; you goosie! But--your mother, now?"
"Oh--my mother. She doesn't care what I do."
"And your father? Forgive me, but I have to ask."
"My father is dead."
"Then come along. Let's begin to get ready to go."
"Wait a minute--Gordon--to get married--must I--must I tell my realname?"
His eyes clouded a trifle.
"Yes, dear heart," he said, very gently, "yes, you must."
"Then I can't get married, Gordon."
Miss Mystery sat down and folded her little hands in her lap, her wholeattitude that of utter despair.
"But, Sweetheart, no one need know except the minister and witnesses--"
"And you?"
"Yes--and I--"
"Oh, I can't marry you, anyway. I can't marry anybody. I can't tell who Iam! Oh, let them take me away, and let them arrest me and I hope they'llconvict me--and--"
"Hush, my precious girl, hush." Lockwood took her in his arms, and lether stifle her sobs on his breast. He was bewildered. What was the truthabout this strange child? For in her abandonment of grief, Anita seemed avery child, a tortured irresponsible soul, whose only haven was in thearms now around her.
"You will go with me, anyway, Anita," he said, with an air of authority."I must take care of you. We will go, as I planned. The minister I toldyou of, is a great and good man, he will advise you--"
"Oh, no, I don't want to talk to a minister!"
"Yes, you do. And his wife is a dear good woman. They will take you intotheir hearts and home--and then we can all decide what to do. At anyrate, you must get away from here. Come, now, pack your bag--and wouldyou mind--Anita--if I ask you not to take the--the money and the rubypin--"
"But he gave them to me! I tell you, Gordon, John Waring gave me those ofhis own free will--"
"Because of his affection for you?"
"Yes; for no other reason! I will keep the pin, anyway--I will!"
"Anita, have you any idea how you puzzle me? how you torture me? Well,take what you like. Will you get ready now, and I will let you know assoon as I can, how and when we can start."
A loud rap was followed by an immediate opening of the door, and Mrs.Adams came into the room.
She stared at Lockwood, but made no comment on his presence there.
"Miss Austin," she began, "I do not wish you to stay in my house anylonger. I have kept you until now, because my husband was so sorry foryou, and refused to turn you out. Nor am I turning you out, but--I wishyou would leave us alone, Mr. Lockwood."
Gordon started to speak, but Anita interrupted him.
"Go, please," she said, quietly, and Lockwood obeyed.
"I cannot blame you, Mrs. Adams," Miss Mystery said; "I daresay you haveto consider your other boarders, and I thank you for your kindness andforbearance you have shown me so far."
The tears were in the big dark eyes, and even as they moved Mrs. Adams tosympathy, she also wondered if they were real. "A girl who would reddenher lips would be capable of any deceit and duplicity," Esther Adamsreasoned.
But she went on, calmly.
"I come now, Miss Austin, to tell you that Mr. Trask is down stairs andwants to see you. He wants you to go to his house to stay. The Peytonsare there, of course, and he offers you the shelter of his roof andprotection until this dreadful matter is settled up."
"Mr. Trask!" Anita looked her amazement.
"Yes; now don't be silly. You very well know he is mad about you, and hehopes to get you freed and then marry you."
"Oh, he does!" It was the old, scornful Miss Mystery who spoke. "Well,will you please tell him from me--"
"Now, don't you be too hoity-toity, miss! You're mighty lucky to have ahome offered you--"
"Yes, that's quite true. Well, Mrs. Adams, will you go down, then and sayI'll be down in a moment or two. Give me time to freshen my appearance abit."
"Yes, with paints and powders and cosmetics!" Esther Adams grumbled toherself, as she went down the stairs.
As a matter of fact she quite misjudged the girl. Very rarely did Anitaresort to artificial aid of that sort, but when she so desired, she usedit as she would any other personal adornment.
"She's coming down," Mrs. Adams announced, as she returned to Trask andthey waited.
But when the minutes grew to a quarter of an hour, and then nearly to ahalf, Mrs. Adams again climbed the stairs to hasten proceedings.
This time she found the room empty.
The absence, too, of brushes and combs, the disappearance of a smallsuitcase, and the fact that her hat and coat were gone all pointedunmistakably to the assumption that the girl had fled.
"Well!" Mrs. Adams reported, "she's lit out, bag and baggage."
"Gone!" exclaimed Trask in dismay.
"Well, she isn't in her room. Her trunk is locked and strapped and hersuitcase is missing. Her hat and coat's gone, too, so you can make yourown guess."
But Maurice Trask didn't stay there to make his guess.
He went back home as fast as he could and told Fleming Stone the news.
"Run away, has she?" said Stone. "I rather looked for that."
"You did! And took no steps to prevent it! You're a nice detective, youare. Well, if you're so smart, where'd she go?"
"Where's Lockwood?" was Stone's laconic response.
"Lockwood!" exclaimed Trask. "Wherever he is, he hasn't run off withAnita Austin! If he has--by Jove, I'll break every bone in his body!"
"You'll have to catch him first," smiled the detective.
"I'll catch him! I'll set you to do it. And, looky here, if she's goneoff with that man, you can go ahead and catch her, catch them both, andthen go ahead and prove her guilty."
"Is she?"
"Is she? You bet she is! And I know it."
"How do you know?"
"I'll tell you. I know her eyebrows!"
"So do I know her eyebrows. But they don't tell me she's a murderer."
"Well, they tell me that! It's this way. Her eyebrows, are not only heavyand dark, but they almost meet over the bridge of her nose."
"Darling nose!" put in Fibsy, who was interested in Anita but not inTrask's deductions.
"Does your knowledge of physiognomy tell you that those meeting eyebrowsare a sign of a criminal?" asked Stone.
"Nothing of that sort. But they are the Truesdell brows."
"The Truesdell brows?" Stone raised his own. "Sounds like a proprietaryarticle. Not artificial, are they?"
"Now, see here, Mr. Stone, I'm in no mood to be guyed. Those eyebrows arefrequently seen in the Truesdell family. My grandfather's brother marrieda Truesdell."
"Your grandfather's brother married a Truesdell. And your own grandfatherdidn't?"
"No; I haven't those brows."
"Well, you're not entitled to them, having no Truesdell blood in yourveins."
"But that girl has."
"Indeed! Interesting, is it not?"
"Aw, come off that line o' talk, F. S.," said Fibsy, knitting his brows,which were not Truesdellian. "I'm seein' a chink o' light. The brother ofyour grandfather, now, Mr. Trask, he was named--?"
"Waring, of course. Henry Waring. My grandfather was James Waring."
"And this Henry Waring--he was the father of Doctor John Waring?"
As Fibsy said this, Stone sat u
pright, and gazed hard at Trask.
"Yes, John Waring's father was Henry, and my grandfather was Henry'sbrother James. That's how I'm related. And being the only one, that's whyI'm the heir here. But, don't you see, Doctor Waring's mother was aTruesdell--"
"And Miss Austin is a relative of hers--a connection of the Truesdellfamily somehow--" exclaimed the now excited Fibsy, "and she found outabout it, and came here and--"
"Yes," Trask said, "and tried to get some money from John Waring on theground of relationship."
"What relation could she be?"
"Maybe a niece of Doctor Waring--or a cousin. Maybe the same relation toDoctor Waring's mother that I am to his father. Then, that would explainhis giving her money and the pin--and maybe she burnt the will! and thenshe--"
"But it complicates everything," said Stone, who was thinking quickly."However, if Miss Austin is connected with the Truesdell family it givesus a way to look to learn her history."
"Well, learn it," said Trask, abruptly. "I'm not afraid of losing myinheritance for I'm in the direct Waring line and she can't be."
CHAPTER XVIII MISS MYSTERY NO LONGER
Trask, helped along by Fleming Stone, investigated the family tree of theWarings. But they ran up against a blank wall. As far as they could learnDoctor Waring never had brother or sister. His mother, who was aTruesdell, had also been an only child. But of course, Miss Mystery couldbe of the Truesdell family, and could, as Trask observed, be the samerelation to John Waring's mother that Trask was to John Waring's father.Which relation was that of second cousin.
"It gives a reason for the girl's presence here," Stone said, "and asit's the only reason we can think of, it must be followed up."
"And I'll follow it up," Trask said, "if I once get hold of that girl.Where can she be, Mr. Stone?"
"Not very far away, I think, as all the stations and routes out of townare watched. She'd have trouble to leave Corinth."
"She could get out in a motor car."
"Who'd take her?"
"Lockwood, of course."
But just then, Gordon Lockwood came into the Waring study. His usual calmwas entirely gone, his eyes wildly staring and his voice quivered as hesaid, "She's gone! Anita's gone!"
"Yes, I know it--I thought you went with her!" and Stone stared in turn.
"No, I didn't!" Lockwood said, quite unnecessarily. "Find her, Mr.Stone--you can, can't you?"
"I can find her," said Fibsy, "if you'll tell me one thing, Mr. Lockwood,right straight out."
"What is it? I'll tell you anything. I'm afraid--"
"You're afraid she's killed herself," said Fibsy, calmly. "Well you tellme this. Are you two--aw--you know--"
The boy blushed, and Stone smiled a little as he said:
"McGuire is a bit shy of romantic matters. He means are you and MissAustin lovers?"
"We are," said Lockwood, emphatically. "She is my fiancee--"
"All right," said Fibsy, "then I'll find her. She hasn't done anythingrash, in that case."
He wagged his wise little head.
"Where is she?" Stone asked, confident that the boy could tell. He knewof Fibsy's almost clairvoyant powers of divining truth in certainsituations.
"Want her here?" he asked, laconically.
"Yes."
"I'll get her."
Snatching his cap, he darted from the house, but he was closely followedby Maurice Trask. Lockwood would have stopped Trask, but Stone said:
"Let him go. This thing is coming to a crisis--Trask will help it along."
Fibsy went toward the Adams house, but stopped at the house next door toit. This was the home of Emily Bates.
Ringing that lady's doorbell, Fibsy asked to see her.
"Mrs. Bates," he said, politely, while Trask listened, "we want to seeMiss Austin, please."
"Anita!" said Mrs. Bates, flurriedly; "why--she--she isn't--"
"Oh, yes, she is here," said the boy, patiently, rather than rudely. "Wehave to see her, you see."
"Here I am," said Miss Mystery, coming in from the next room. "I think,"she said turning to Mrs. Bates, "I think, as you advised me, I'll tellall."
"Don't tell it here!" cried Fibsy. "Please, Miss Austin--don't spill youryarn here--oh, I mean, don't--don't divulge--"
The unusual word nearly choked the excited boy, who always in moments ofstrong emotion lapsed into careless English, but who tried not to.
"Now, look here," Maurice Trask put in. "Here's where I take hold. MissAustin, you have told your story to Mrs. Bates?"
"Yes," said, Anita, looking very sad, but determined.
"Then you tell it to me. I'm heir to the Waring estate, and so I have aright to know all you know about--the family."
His knowing look proved to Anita that he assumed also her right to beclassed with "the family" and she looked at him in astonishment.
"You know?" she cried.
"Yes--I know," he spoke very sternly. "And I insist upon a privateinterview with you, before you tell your story to any one else."
"You shall have it, then," she said, and her eyes grew grave. "Mrs.Bates, will you and Terence leave us alone for ten minutes. That will belong enough, and then, I'll go to see Mr. Stone--if necessary."
"Now, look here," Trask said, as the door closed after the others, "Iknow who you are."
"I don't believe it," and Miss Mystery looked at him straight frombeneath the "Truesdell brows."
"Well, anyway, I know you are a Truesdell connection."
"Yes, I am. Go on."
"I don't know just what branch," he went on, a little lamely.
"But it's a branch strong enough to hold me--and also to interfere withthis heirship of yours."
"Can't be. There's no Truesdell so close to John Waring as I am."
"You think so? Then listen."
As Miss Mystery told him her story, the man's face fell, he sat, almostpetrified with astonishment, and when she had finished the short butamazing recital, he said:
"My heavens! What are you going to do?"
"I don't know what to do."
"If you tell--I--"
"Of course you do."
"And if you don't tell--then John Waring's name is left unstained--"
"There is no shadow of stain on John Waring's name! What do you mean?"
"Now, look here, Miss Austin, you keep quiet about all this, will you?I'll call off those sleuths and I'll arrange to close up and cover up thewhole matter. Then, you marry me--there's only a distant cousinshipbetween us--and I'll put up the biggest memorial to Waring you ever heardof."
"Omit the clause about my marrying you," she returned, "and I may agreeto your plans. I haven't quite decided what to do--and beside, Mr. Trask,who killed my--Doctor Waring?"
"Never mind who killed him. Call it suicide--it must have been anyway--"
"No--I'm not sure it was--oh, I don't know what to do."
"Time's up," called Fibsy through the closed door. "And, I say, MissAustin, you take my tip, and come along and tell your story to F. Stone.It'll be your best bet in the long run."
Perhaps it was the boy's speech, perhaps it was the gleam of disappointedgreed that Anita saw in Trask's eyes, but she rose, with a suddendecision, and said, as she opened the door:
"That's just what I'll do. Come with me, Mrs. Bates--or, would you rathernot?"
"Oh, I can't," said Emily Bates, "don't ask me, Anita, dear."
"No, you stay here. I'll come back soon."
And so Miss Mystery again walked across the snow-covered field to theWaring house, this time to remove all occasion for using her nickname.
"You found her?" said Stone, as the trio came into the study, where heand Lockwood still sat.
"Yes," said Fibsy. "I just thought where would a poor, hunted kid go? AndI said to myself, she'd go to the nearest and nicest lady's house sheknew of. And of course, that was Mrs. Bates' and sure enough there shewas. And--she's going to tell all!"
F
ibsy was melodramatic by nature, and his gesture indicated an importantrevelation.
"I am," said Anita, quietly.
She went straight to Lockwood's side, and he took her hand calmly, andled her to a seat on the wide davenport, then sat beside her.
Her hand still in his, she told her story.
"I am of Truesdell blood," she began, "as Mr. Trask surmised. But, also,I am of Waring blood. Doctor John Waring was my father."
No one spoke. The surprise was too great. In his wildest theories,Fleming Stone had never thought of this.
Fibsy's great astonishment was permeated with the quick conviction, "thenshe didn't kill him!"
Gordon Lockwood was conscious of a rapturous reassurance that he had norival as a lover.
Trask, already knowing the truth, sat gloomily realizing he was not theheir.
Anita, her beautiful face sad, yet proud to acknowledge her ancestry,went on:
"This is his story. When John Waring was twenty years old, he met a youngwoman--an actress--who so infatuated him that he married her. They wereabsolutely uncongenial and unfitted for one another, and after a fewweeks, they agreed to separate. There was no question of divorce, theymerely preferred to live apart. He sent her money at stated intervals buthe pursued his quiet, studious life, and she her life of gayety andsport. She was a good woman--she _is_ a good woman--she is my mother."
Another silence followed this disclosure. Is, she had said--not was. AndJohn Waring her father!
Gordon Lockwood held her hand closely. He was content to listen. Whatevershe could say could not lessen his love and adoration.
"I tell you this, for her sake and--my father's also. There is no stigmato be attached to either, they were merely so utterly opposite incharacter and disposition that they could not live together.
"As I said, after a few weeks they separated, and--my father did not knowof my birth. My mother would not let him know, lest he come back to her.She was a light-hearted, carefree girl, and while she loved me, she didnot love my father. Later on--when I was about four, I think, she causeda notice of her death to be sent to my father. This was because shewanted to sever all connection, and take no chance of ever meeting himagain. She was at that time a successful actress, and earned all themoney she wanted. She adored me, she had no love affairs, she lived onlyfor me and her art. Though a good actress, she was not widely renowned,and in California, where she had chosen to make her home, she was likedand respected. The climate just suited her love of ease, freedom andindolence--as a New England life of busy activity would have beenimpossible to her. I want you to understand my mother. She was--she is, amere butterfly, caring only for trifles and simple gayety. Her home ischarming, her personality, that of a delightful child. But hertemperament is one that cannot stand responsibilities and chafes atdemands. However, all that matters little. The facts are that JohnWaring, learning of his wife's death, devoted himself utterly to hisbooks and his study.
"When my mother saw in the papers he was about to marry, she wasappalled. She didn't know what to do. She couldn't let him marry anotherwoman, unaware of her existence. She couldn't raise a question of divorcefor she knew that would tend to reflect unpleasantly on his past.
"And, too, at last, she was beginning to feel as if she might like toresume her position as his wife, now that he was prominent and wealthy.She told me the whole story--of which I had been utterly ignorant, andshe sent me here. I was to see Doctor Waring and use my own judgment asto when and how I should tell him all this.
"I came here, with a feeling of dislike and resentment toward a fatherwho had been no father to me. Mother exonerated him, to be sure, but itwas all such a surprise to me, that I accepted the errand in a spirit ofbravado and was prepared to make trouble if necessary.
"But when I saw John Waring--when I realized that splendid man was myfather--I knew that all my love, all my allegiance was his, and that mymother was as nothing to me, compared with my wonderful father!
"Except for what Mr. Trask calls the Truesdell brows, I look exactly likemy mother. Also she resumed her maiden name of Anita Austin after theyseparated. So you may imagine the shock when Doctor Waring first heardthe name, and first saw the living image of his wife, whom, you mustremember, he supposed dead.
"But I had my mission to perform--and so, I came here, that Sundaynight."
The audience sat motionless. Lockwood, holding her hand, felt everytremor of her emotion as the girl told her story. Fleming Stone,realizing that he was hearing the most dramatic revelation of his career,listened avidly. Fibsy, with staring eyes and open mouth, clenched hisfists in enthralled interest, and Maurice Trask heard it all with evergrowing conviction that he must give up his supposed inheritance.
As Anita began to tell of that Sunday night, the situation became evenmore tense.
"I came to the French window, and tapped lightly. Doctor Waring let mein, and I sat by him in that plush chair.
"The conversation I had with my father I shall not detail. It is my mostsacred and beloved memory. We were as one in every way. We loved eachother from the first word. We proved to be alike in our tastes andpursuits. Oh, if he could have lived! I told him of my mother and myself,and he was crushed. I wanted to spare him, but what could I do? He had toknow--although the knowing meant the ruining of his career. He said, atonce, he could not take the Presidency of the College, with the story ofhis past made public, nor could he honorably suppress it. He couldn'tmarry Mrs. Bates--nor could he instal my mother as mistress here.
"He had done no real wrong, in making that early and ill-advisedmarriage, but it seemed to him a blot on his scutcheon, and an indelibleone.
"He would sit and brood over these fearful conditions, then, suddenly hewould realize my existence afresh, and rejoice in it. He loved me at onceand deeply--and I adored him. Never father and daughter, I am sure,crowded a lifetime of affection into such a few moments."
Bravely Anita went on, not daring to pause to think. Her hand, tightlyclasped in Lockwood's, trembled, but her voice was steady, for it was heropportunity to clear her father's name, and she must neglect no slightestpoint.
"At last, he told me I must go away, and he would think out what he coulddo. He gave me the money, for he was afraid I hadn't sufficient cash withme, and he gave me the ruby pin, saying I must keep it forever as myfather's first gift to me. With infinite gentleness he bade me good-by,and softly opened the glass door for me. I went away and he closed thedoor.
"I went home to the Adams house, making, of course, those footprints inthe snow. It was a very cold night, I remember the clear shining stars,but I thought of nothing but my father--my splendid, wonderful father.And I hoped, oh, how I hoped, that some way would be found that he and Icould spend our lives together. I didn't know what he would do--but Iprayed to God that some way out might be found.
"The rest you know. Of the manner of my father's death, I know nothing atall. Of Nogi, I have no knowledge. I kept all this secret at first,because I hoped to shield my father's name better that way. But I thinknow, it's better told. I couldn't live under the weight of such a secret.
"One more word as to my mother. She has had an admirer for many years,named Carl Melrose. She has kept him at a distance, but, as you know fromthe telegram she sent me, she has already either married him or promisedto. Also, she advised me to tell the whole truth. I have done so."
Unheeding the others, Lockwood put his arm round the exhausted girl asshe fell over toward him. His wonderful calm helped her, and his gentleyet firm embrace gave her fresh courage to endure the strain.
"Thank you, Miss Austin," and Stone spoke almost reverently. "You haveshown marvelous wisdom and bravery and I congratulate you on your entireprocedure. You are an exceptional girl, and I am proud to know you."
This was a great deal for Fleming Stone to say, and Anita acknowledged itwith a grateful glance.
Fibsy, his eyes streaming with unchecked tears, came over and kneltbefore her.
"Oh, Miss Austin!" he sobbed,
"Oh, Miss Anita!"
Trask alone remained unmoved, and sat with folded arms and frowning face.
But little attention was paid him, and Stone said, thoughtfully:
"Our problem of the mystery of Doctor Waring's death is as great asever."
"It is," agreed Lockwood, "but I am sure now, Mr. Stone, that it was asuicide. The motive is supplied, for I knew Doctor Waring so well, I knewthe workings of his great and good mind, and I am sure that he felt therewas no other course for him. I can see just how he decided that theexposure of all this would react against the reputation of the College.That the sensation and scandal that would fill the papers would harm thestanding of the University of Corinth, and that--and that alone--causedhis decision. I know him so well, that I can tell you that never, neverwould he take his life to save himself trouble or sorrow, but for others'sake--and I include Mrs. Bates--he made the sacrifice.
"I can see--and I am sure of what I say--how he realized that the pressand the public would forgive and condone a dead man, when, if he lived,the brunt of the whole matter would fall on his beloved College and onthe woman he loved and respected.
"Now--as I feel sure he foresaw--such of this story as must be madepublic will have far less weight and prominence, than if he were alive._I_ know all this is so--for, I knew John Waring as few people knew him."
A grateful glance from John Waring's daughter thanked him for thistribute.
"That ten thousand dollar check?" Trask said, suddenly, for his mind wasstill concerned with the financial side.
"I think that must have been sent to my mother," said Anita. "She, as Itold you, returned to the use of her maiden name, and during ourinterview, my father told me he should write her at once and send hermoney. I feel sure he did do so--"
"Without doubt," Lockwood said; "and if so, the letter would have beenmailed with the collection next morning. The returning voucher willshow."
"Also the letter he wrote my mother will corroborate all I have toldyou," said Anita, and both her assertion and Gordon's, later came true.
"I felt," Anita said, by way of further explanation, "that Mrs. Batesought to know all. So, when Mrs. Adams practically put me out of herhouse, and I had no wish to accept Mr. Trask's invitation to come overhere, nor," she smiled affectionately at Lockwood, "could I fall in withyour crazy plans--I just went next door and told Mrs. Bates all about it.She was very dear and sweet to me, and now, if you please, I will go backthere. I am weary and exhausted--I cannot stand any more. But when youwant me, I can be found at Mrs. Bates'. I leave all matters to be decidedor settled, in the hands of Mr. Lockwood and Mr. Stone. Fibsy, dear, willyou escort me home?"
With a suddenly acquired dignity, Fibsy rose, and stood by her side, andin a moment the two went away together.
When the boy returned the others were absorbed in the discussion of themysterious death of John Waring.
"I'm inclined to give it up," Fleming Stone said, thinking deeply.
"Don't do it, F. Stone," Fibsy said, earnestly. "It's better to find out.You never have gave up a case."
"No. Well, Fibs, which way shall we look?"
A strange embarrassment came over the boy's face, and then he said,diffidently:
"Say, gentlemen, could I be left alone in this room for a little while? Idon't say I kin find out anythin'--but I do wanta try."
The lapse into careless enunciation told Stone how much in earnest hisyoung colleague was, and he rose, saying, "You certainly may, my boy. Therest of us will have a conference in some other room, as to what part ofMiss Austin's story must be made public."
Left to himself, Fibsy went at once to the bookcase that held the defacedcopy of Martial, that John Waring had been reading the night he died.
Opening the volume at the blood-stained page, the unlettered boy eagerlyread the lines. Tried to read them, rather, and groaned in spirit becausehe knew no Latin.
Small wonder that he was nonplused, for this was all he read:
MARTIAL'S EPIGRAMS
Liber IV, Epigram XVIII
Qua vicina pluit Vipsanis porta columnis Et madet assiduo lubricus imbre lapis, In iugulum pueri, qui roscida tecta subibat, Decidit hiberno praegravis unda gelu: Cumque peregisset miseri crudelia fata, Tabuit in calido vulnere mucro tener. Quid non saeva sibi voluit Fortuna licere? Aut ubi non mors est, si iugulatis aquae?
His chin in his hands, he pored over the Latin in utter despair, andrising, started for the door.
Then he paused; "I must do it myself--" he murmured: "_I must._"
So he hunted the shelves until he found a Latin Dictionary.
He was not entirely unversed in the rudiments of the language, for Stonehad directed his education at such odd hours as he could find time forstudy.
And so after some hard and laborious digging, Fibsy at last gathered thegist of the Latin stanza.
His eyes shone, and he stared about the room.
"It ain't possible--" he told himself, "and yet--gee, there ain't nothingelse possible!" He rose and looked out at every window, he notedcarefully the catches--he paced from the desk to the small rear windowsof the room, and back again.
"It's the only thing," he reiterated, "the _only_ thing. Oh, gee! _what_a thing!"
He went in search of Stone, and found the three men shut in the livingroom and with them was Nogi.
Stone's persevering efforts, by advertisements and circulars had at lastsucceeded, and the impassive and non-committal Japanese was there, andquite willing to tell all he knew.
Fibsy interrupted his story.
"Go back," he directed, "to the beginning. Let me hear it all. It's O.K., F. S."
"I was attending to my dining-room duties," Nogi said, "and I had takenthe water tray to the study. I was weary and hoped the master would soonretire. So, I occasionally peeped through the small window from thedining-room. I saw a lady come and make a visit, and then I saw her and Iheard her go away. Then I hoped the master would go to bed. But, no--hewas very busy. He wrote letters, he burned some papers, he moved aboutmuch. He was restless, disturbed. Then he sat at his desk and read hisbook."
"This one?" cried Fibsy, excitedly waving the Martial.
"I think so--one like that, anyway."
"This was the one! Go on."
"Then--oh, it was strange! Then the master got up, went to the smallwindow at the back of the room--"
"Which one?"
"The one by the big globe, and he opened it. But for a moment--"
"Did he put his hand out?" Fibsy cried.
"Yes, I suppose to see if it rained. Yes, he put his hand out for amoment, then he closed the window."
"And locked it?" asked Fibsy.
"It locks itself, with a snap catch. Then--ah, here is the strange thing!Then he went back, sat at his desk, and in a moment he fell over and theblood spurted out."
"Didn't he stab himself?" Fibsy asked.
"I don't know. He didn't seem to do anything but scratch his ear, andover he fell! Such a sight! I was afraid, and I ran away--fast."
"All very well," said Stone, "but what became of the weapon?"
"I know," Fibsy almost screamed, in his excitement. "Oh, F. Stone--Iknow!"
"Well, tell us, Terence--but steady, now, my boy. Don't get too excited."
"No, sir," and the lad grew suddenly quiet. "But I know. Wait just aminute, sir. Where are the photographs of the house that the detectivestook the day after?"
"I'll get them," Lockwood said, and left the room.
He returned, and Fibsy found a magnifying glass and looked carefully atcertain pictures.
"It proves," he said, solemnly. "F. Stone, you have solved your greatestcase!"
It was characteristic of the boy, that although the solution was his own,his deference to Stone was sincere and un-self-conscious.
"Please," he said, "I don't know Latin, but you will find the explanationof Doctor Waring's death on that red stained page. He was readingMartial,
as we know, and--" he pointed to the Epigram on the page inquestion, "as he read that, he found a way out."
The grave statement was impressive, and Stone took the book.
"Shall I translate, or read the Latin aloud?" he asked the others.
"Wait a minute, I'll get a Martial in English," Lockwood said, out ofconsideration for Trask's possible ignorance of the dead language.
"What number is the Epigram?" he asked, returning.
Stone told him, and Lockwood found the place, and passed the Englishversion to Stone. Aloud, the detective read this:
TRANSLATION
Book IV, Epigram 18
On a youth killed by the fall of a piece of ice.
Just where the gate near the portico of Agrippa is always dripping with water, and the slippery pavement is wet with constant showers, a mass of water, congealed by winter's cold, fell upon the neck of a youth who was entering the damp temple, and, when it had inflicted a cruel death on the unfortunate boy, the weapon melted in the warm wound it had made. What cruelties does not Fortune permit? Or where is not death to be found, if you, the waters, turn cut-throats.
"And so you see," Fibsy broke the ensuing silence, "he decided to stabhimself with an icicle, and he did. He did!" he repeated, triumphantly,"he went to that window back by the big globe and got one--and here's theproof! Look through the glass, F. S."
Stone did so, and without doubt, the fringe of icicles that hung fromthat particular window sash showed one missing! It was the very windowthat Nogi stated Waring had opened, and had put his hand out of for amoment.
Clearly, he had broken off an icicle, strong and firm on that freezingnight, had returned to his chair, and inspired by the story of the youthunder the portico of Agrippa, had stabbed his own jugular vein with thesharp, round point, and had fallen unconscious.
The icicle, melting in the wound, had disappeared, and death had followedin a moment or two.
They went to the study, and Nogi was made to imitate the movements he sawDoctor Waring make. It left no doubt of the exact facts and the mysterywas solved.
"Do you suppose he meant to make it seem a murder?" asked Stone,thoughtfully.
"He did not!" defended Lockwood. "That is he did not mean to implicateanybody. He was a man amenable to sudden suggestion, and apt to followit. I am certain the idea came to him, as he read his book, and in theimpulse of the moment he rose, got the implement and did the deed. It waslike him to read that book after his talk with his daughter. He oftenresorted to reading for a time to clear his mind for some importantdecision. Had he not read that very page, he would in all probability nothave taken his life at that time."
"There can be no doubt of it all," said Stone. "Fibsy, the credit of thediscovery is yours. You did a great piece of work."
Fibsy blushed with delight at Stone's praise, which he cared for morethan anything else in life, but he said:
"Aw, I just chanced on it. But I found out another thing! While I wasworkin' on that translatin' business, the telephone rang. I answered, butsomebody took it on an extension, so I hung up.
"But I was waitin' quite a few minutes, and, what do you think? Ihappened to rest my forehead on the telephone transmitter, and--"
"The red ring!" cried Stone. "Of course!"
"Of course," Fibsy repeated. "Pokin' around for a Latin Dictionary, Ipassed a lookin' glass, and there on me noble forehead I saw a red ring,about two inches across. It's gone now."
"Yes," Stone said. "Without doubt, Doctor Waring was telephoning--orperhaps was answering a call and he rested his head on the instrument."
"He often did that," said Lockwood, "but I never noticed a ring left."
"In life," Stone said, "it would disappear quickly. But if it happenedjust before he died, rigor mortis would preserve the mark. Any way itmust have been that."
The solution of the mystery, so indubitably the true one, was accepted bythe police.
The matter was given as little publicity as possible, for Anita and Mrs.Bates, the two most deeply concerned both wished it so. No stigma ofcowardice rested on John Waring's name, for all who knew him knew thathis act was the deed of a martyr to circumstances and was prompted by aspirit of loyalty to his College and unwillingness to let his ownmisfortunes in any way redound to its disparagement.
He trusted, they felt sure, that the truth would never be discovered andthat the tragedy of his death would preclude blame or censure.
Himself, he never thought of, in his unselfish life or equally unselfishdeath.
Trask, perforce, resigned all claim to the estate, and Anita and hermother arranged matters between themselves.
The assumption was that John Waring's will, which he burned, had beenmade in Mrs. Bates' favor, but on learning of his nearer heirs, hedestroyed it.
"Anita Waring," Lockwood murmured softly when at last they were alonetogether.
"I love the name," she said, "and it is really mine."
"But it will be yours so short a time, it's scarcely worth while to useit," Gordon returned. "It will be a short time, won't it, sweetheart?"
"Yes, indeed! I want to go away from Corinth forever. I love my father'smemory, but I can't stand these scenes. I am tired of mystery in name andin deed. I just want to be--Anita Lockwood."
Whereupon Gordon lost his head entirely.
_CAROLYN WELLS'_ _Baffling detective stories in which Fleming Stone, the great AmericanDetective, displays his remarkable ingenuity for unravelling mysteries_
THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE RASPBERRY JAM THE DIAMOND PIN VICKY VAN THE MARK OF CAIN THE CURVED BLADES THE WHITE ALLEY ANYBODY BUT ANNE THE MAXWELL MYSTERY A CHAIN OF EVIDENCE THE CLUE THE GOLD BAG
EACH WITH FRONTISPIECE IN COLOR 12MO. CLOTH
PTOMAINE STREET A Rollicking Parody on a Famous Book.
Transcriber's Notes
--Copyright notice provided as in the original--this e-text is public domain in the country of publication.
--Moved promotional material to the end of the book.
--Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard spellings and dialect unchanged.
--Provided an original cover image, for free and unrestricted use with this Distributed Proofreaders eBook.
The Mystery Girl Page 17
