 CHAPTER VIII. The Weaving of the Web Ten o'clock found an eager crowd assembled in and about the large library at Faroaks, drawn by reports of the sensational features developed on the preceding day. The members of the household occupied nearly the same positions as on the preceding afternoon, with the exception of the secretary, who had entered the room a little in advance of the others, and had seated himself near the coroner. Notwithstanding the glances of doubt and distrust which Scott encountered, and his own consciousness that suspicion against himself would deepen as all the facts in the case became known, he was as impassive as ever. Even Mr. Whitney was wholly at a loss to account for the change in the bearing of the secretary. He was no longer the employee, but carried himself with a proud independence, as though conscious of some mysterious vantage-ground. On the other side of the coroner, but conveniently near Scott, was Mr. Sutherland, while in the rear commanding a good view of both gentlemen, as well as of nearly every face in the room sat Mr. Merrick, though to a stranger his manner would have implied the utmost indifference to the proceedings. The first witness called for by the coroner was Johnson, the butler. For the first five or ten minutes his testimony was little more than a corroboration, of that given by the valet on the preceding day, of the discovery of the death of humane wearing. "'You say,' said the coroner, that at Mr. Whitney's request you remained in the upper hall near the library and within call, "'Yes, sir. Well, you state how long a time you should think elapsed between the alarm given by Hardy and the appearance of the entire household, including both the guests and the servants?' "'Well, sir,' Hardy gave the alarm a little after seven. The servants were already up and crowded around there immediately, and I should say that everyone, including the ladies, was out within twenty minutes, or thirty at the latest, with the exception of Mrs. Lagrange and her son. At what time did the latter appear? It must have been considerably after eight o'clock, sir, when she came to the library in response to a message from Mr. Whitney. And her son? I did not see Mr. Walter Lagrange at all during the four-noons, sir. How was that?' inquired Dr. Westlake rather quickly. Was he not at Fair Oaks? I cannot say, sir. I did not see him until luncheon. "'When did you last see, Mr. Mainwearing? A little after eleven o'clock, night before last, Wednesday night, sir. I was in the hall as he passed upstairs to his rooms, and I heard him ask Mr. Scott to come to his library. Did there seem to be any coldness or unpleasantness between them? No, sir. They both appeared the same as usual. Did any strangers call at Fair Oaks Wednesday, aside from those mentioned yesterday? No, sir. Will you describe the strangers who were here, stating when they called and any particulars you are able to give? The man giving his name as R. Hobson called between eleven and twelve, Wednesday morning. He was tall, with thin features, small, dark eyes, and a very soft voice. He came in a carriage, inquired for Mrs. Lagrange, and seemed in considerable haste. He stayed about an hour. The gentleman who called about four in the afternoon also came in a carriage, and inquired for Mr. Mainwearing, saying he had been directed to Fair Oaks at the city offices of Mainwearing and Company. Unlearning that Mr. Mainwearing was out, he asked for the secretary, and I took his card to Mr. Scott, who gave directions to have him shown up into the library. I do not know when he left. He was tall, with black hair and moustache, and dark glasses. Mr. Hobson's call occasioned considerable comment at luncheon. Did it not? Yes, sir. Did you observe that it had any effect on Mr. Mainwearing? Well, sir, I thought he appeared considerably annoyed, and after luncheon he asked me whether Mr. Hobson had inquired for him. Did you admit Hobson when he called in the evening? I did not, sir. I merely met him at the door, and directed him to the south side entrance. At Mrs. Lagrange's request? Yes, sir, in accordance with her instructions. Did she give you any reason for such instructions? Merely that his former call had caused so much remark she wished to receive him privately. Was he alone when he called the second time? No, sir. Can you describe the person who accompanied him? No, sir. The man stood so far in the shadow that I could only see the outlines of his form. I should say he was about the same height as Mr. Hobson, but considerably heavier. Do you know at what hour they left? No, sir. Further questions failing to elicit any facts bearing upon the situation the butler was dismissed, and Brown, the coachman, took his place. The latter was far less taciturn than the butler, seeming rather eager to impart some piece of information which she evidently considered of special importance. After a few preliminary questions, the coroner said, At what time and from whom did you first hear of Mr. Mainwearing's death? About half past seven yesterday morning, sir, I was a-taken care of the horses, sir. When Uncle Mose, he's the gardener, sir, he comes past the stable on his way to the tool-house, and he tells me that Mr. Mainwearing has been murdered in the night, right in his own rooms, and then he tells me, How long had you been up and at work in the stables? Before I heard of the murder? Well, about an hour, I should say. I gently gets up at six. Had you been to the house that morning? No, sir. But I went right up there after seeing Uncle Mose, and I was in the kitchen telling what I had seen the night before, when the butler he comes down and said as how Mr. Ralph Mainwearing wanted me, and that I had better keep my mouth shut till I was asked to tell what I knew. Where were you last Wednesday night? asked the coroner, rather abruptly. I don't look surprised, but answered readily. I was out with some friends of mine. We all went down to the city together that night and stayed out pretty late, and it seems a mighty good thing we did, too. Why, so, asked the coroner. Well, sir, said Brown deliberately, glad of an opportunity to tell his story, and evidently determined to make the most of it. As I said, we stayed out that night later than we meant to, and I didn't waste no time getting home after I left the depot. So when I got to Fair Oaks, I thought I'd take the shortest cut, and so I came in by the South Gate off from the side street, and took the path around the lake to get to the stables. What lake do you mean? interrupted the coroner. The small lake back of the grove in the south part of the grounds. Well, I was hurrying along through that grove, and all of a sudden I seen a man, standing on the edge of the lake with his back towards me. He was very tall, and wore an ulster that came nearly to his feet, and he looked so queer that I stepped out of the path and behind some big trees to watch him. I hadn't no more than done so when he stooped, and picked up something, and came right up the path towards me. The moon was shining, had been up about two hours, I should say, but his back was to the light, and I couldn't see his face, nor I didn't want him to see me. After he'd got by, I stepped out to watch him, and see if he went towards the house. But he didn't. He took the path I had just left, and walked very fast to the South Gate, and went out into the side street. In which direction did he then go? Asked the corner. He went up onto the main avenue, and turned towards the town. Can you describe his appearance? Only that he was tall, and had very black hair, but his face was in the shadow, so I couldn't tell how he looked. What did he pick up from the ground? I couldn't see very plain, but it looked like a small square box done up in paper. You did not try to call anyone? No, sir. The man didn't go near the house, and I didn't think much about it, until Uncle Moe's told me yesterday morning that the night before he's seen, never mind what he saw, we will let him tell his own story. Was that all you saw? No, sir, it wasn't," replied Brown, with a quick side glance towards Mrs. Lagrange, who occupied the same position as on the preceding day. I was going along towards the stables, thinking about that man, and all of a sudden I noticed there was a bright light in one of the upstairs rooms. The curtains wasn't drawn, and I thought I could see whose room it was, so I walked up towards the house carefully, and I saw Mr. Main wearing the secretary. He looked awfully pale and haggard, and was walking up and down the room kind of excited like. Just then I happened to step on the graveled walk and he heard me, for he started, and looked kind of frightened and listened a moment, and then he stepped up quick and extinguished the light, and I was afraid he'd seen me then from the window, so I hurried off, but I thought it was mighty queer. Mr. Scott was dressed, was he? Interrupted the corner. Yes, sir," Brown answered, sullenly. Did you go directly to your room? Yes, sir. What time was this? I heard the clock, strike three, just after I got in. You saw or heard nothing more? No, sir. You knew nothing of what had occurred at the house until the gardener told you in the morning? Then yes, no, sir," Brown stammered, with another glance towards Mrs. LaGrange, who was watching him closely. What did you say? demanded the coroner. I said I didn't know what had happened till Uncle Mose told me. Brown answered doggedly. That will do, said the coroner, watching the witness narrowly as he resumed his place among the servants. During the latter part of Brown's testimony, quick telegraphic glances had been exchanged between Scott and Mr. Sutherland, and one or two slips of paper, unobserved by any other than Merrick, had passed from one to the other. Scott was well aware that the statements made by the coachmen had deepened suspicion against himself. He paid little attention to the crowd, however, but noted particularly the faces of the guests at Faroaks. Ralph Mainwaring's dark with anger, that of the genial Mr. Thornton, coldly averted. Young Mainwaring's supercilious stare, and his sister's expression of contemptuous disdain. And as he studied their features, his own grew immobile as marble. Suddenly his glance encountered Miss Carlton's face, and was held for a moment as though under a spell. There was no weak sentimentality there, no pity or sympathy. He would have scorned either. But the perfect confident shining in her eyes called forth a quick response from his own, though not a muscle stirred about the sternly set mouth. She saw and understood, and as her eyes fell, a smile, inexplicable and mysterious, flashed for an instant across her face, and was gone. John Wilson announced the corner after a slight pause. A middle-aged man, rather dull in appearance, except for a pair of keenly observant eyes, stepped forward with slow precision. "'You are Mr. Ralph Mainwaring's valet, I believe,' said the corner. "'That I am, sir,' was the reply. "'Have you been for some time in his employ?' The man peered sharply at Dr. Westlake from under his heavy brows, and replied, with great deliberation, "'Nye on to thirty years, sir!' Then noting the surprise in his interlocutor's face, he added, with dignity, "'The Wilson's, sir, have served the Mainwaring's for three generations. My father, sir, was valet to the father of the dead Hugh Mainwaring, the honourable Ralph Maxwell Mainwaring, sir.' A smile played over the features of young Mainwaring at these words, but Scott started involuntarily, and after studying Wilson's face intently for a moment hastily penciled a few words on a slip of paper which he handed to Mr. Sutherland, and both watched the witness with special interest. His testimony differed little from that given by Hardy and by the butler. He stated, however, that after accompanying Mr. Ralph Mainwaring to the scene of the murder, the latter sent him to summon Mr. Scott, but on his way to the young gentleman's room, he saw Mr. Whitney in advance of him, who called the secretary and immediately returned with him to the library. "'Was Mr. Scott already up when Mr. Whitney called him?' the coroner inquired quickly. "'He was up, and dressed, sir,' was the reply. Wilson also corroborated the butler's statement that Walter Lagrange was not seen about the premises until luncheon, and stated in addition that the horse belonging to young Lagrange was missing from the stables until nearly noon. Having mingled very little with the servants at Faroaks, he had but slight knowledge concerning the occurrences of the day preceding the murder. His testimony was therefore very brief. Katie O'Brien Chambermaid was called next, and in response a young Irish woman quietly took her place before the coroner. She answered the questions addressed her as briefly as possible but with deliberation, as though each word had been carefully weighed. "'Did you have charge of the private rooms of Mr. Mainwearing?' "'Yes, sir.' "'You took care of his rooms as usual, Wednesday?' "'Yes, sir.' "'Did you see Mr. Mainwearing during the day or evening? I met him once or twice in the halls. "'When did you last see him? About two o'clock Wednesday afternoon.' "'Stayed how you first heard of his death? I was working in the halls upstairs about seven that morning, and heard running back and forth, as if there was trouble. I went out into the front hall and met the butler, and he told me, "'Mr. Mainwearing had been murdered. "'Did you go in to see him at that time? Yes, sir, for a moment. "'Did you notice anything unusual in his rooms? I didn't notice anything unusual in Mr. Mainwearing's rooms. "'Did you in any room? Yes, sir.' "'In what one? In Mr. Scott's room a little later. "'Stayed what you observed. A few minutes after I left the library, I saw Mr. Scott come out of his room, and go away with Mr. Whitney, and I thought I would go in and do up the room. So I went in, but the bed was just as I had made it up the day before. It hadn't been slept in nor touched. Then things were strewn around considerable, and the top drawer of his dress-in-case was kept locked all the four noon until he went to the city. "'When did he go to the city? About noon. "'Did you see Mr. Scott the day or evening preceding Mr. Mainwearing's death? No, sir, but I know he was locked in Mr. Mainwearing's library all the afternoon, after the folks had gone at driving. "'How did you know the library was locked? I was sweeping in the corridor, and I heard him unlock the door, when the butler came up with some gentleman's card. "'Did you see the gentleman who came upstairs later? "'No, sir. Did you see Walter LaGrange at any time during yesterday four noon? The witness colored slightly, but replied, "'I think I met him once or twice. "'I don't remember just when.' He was away from home part of the time, was he not? I don't know where he was." Nothing further of importance could be learned from the witness, and as it was then past twelve a short recess was taken until after lunch. Scott took his place at the table with the guests, seemingly alike indifferent to cold aversion or angry frowns. He was conscious that Miss Carlton was watching him, her manner indicating the same frank friendliness she had shown him on the preceding day, and in response to a signal from her, as they rose from the table, he followed her into one of the drawing-rooms, joining her in a large alcove window where she mostened him to a seat on a low-devan by her side. "'You have made a bitter enemy in Mrs. LaGrange,' she said archly, and she has marshaled her forces against you. "'Do you think so?' he asked, with an amused smile. "'Certainly. She displayed her tactics this morning. I am positive that much of the testimony was given in accordance with her orders.' For the most part, however, the witnesses stated facts, Scott replied, watching her closely. "'Yes, but facts may be so misrepresented as to give an impression quite the reverse of the truth. That is so, and a misrepresentation having a foundation of truth is the hardest to fight.' But he added in a lighter tone, "'All this testimony against me does not seem to have produced the same impression upon you that it has upon the others. Your suspicions do not seem as yet to have been thoroughly aroused. Perhaps my suspicions are as dormant as your own apprehensions. I fail to detect the slightest anxiety on your part, as to the outcome of this, one way or another.' "'No,' he replied after a pause, I feel no anxiety, only resentment that circumstances have conspired against me just at this time, and contempt for people who will be led by appearances rather than their own judgment. People sometimes use very little judgment where their own personal interests are concerned. In that case," said Scott, as they rose to return to the library where the others had already preceded them, "'I suppose the word of one unprincipled woman and of three or four ignorant servants will be allowed to outweigh mine.' They had reached the library, and Miss Carleton made no reply. But Scott again saw the same inscrutable little smile play over her features and wondered at its meaning. CHAPTER IX Upon resuming the examination the first witness called for was Mary Catron, the second cook, a woman about thirty-five years of age, with an honest face, but one indicative of a fiery temper. Her testimony was brief, but given with a directness that was amusing. When questioned of the occurrences of the day preceding the murder, she replied, "'I know nothing of what went on except from the gossip of the rest. My place was in the kitchen, and I had too much to do that day to be loitering round the halls, leaning on a broom handle and listening at keyholes.' And she cast a glance of scathing contempt in the direction of the chambermaid. Did this gossip that you speak of have any bearing on what has since occurred? The coroner inquired, "'Well, sir, it mightn't, it mightn't.' T'was mostly about the wheel that Mr. Mainweron was making, and as how them that got little was angry that they didn't get more, and them as got much was growlin' had not gotten the whole. How did the servants gain any knowledge of this wheel? That's more than I can say, sir, except as I know the nature of some folks.' Upon further questioning the witness stated that on the night of the murder, between the hours of two and three, she was aroused by a sound like the closing of an outside door. But on going to one of the basement windows to listen, she heard nothing further, and concluded she had been mistaken. "'Did you see the coachman at that time?' she was asked. A few minutes later I looked out again, and I saw him agape and ingrin in at the house, and jabber into himself like an idiot, and I was minded to send him about his business if he hadn't had took himself off when he did. He was perfectly sober, was he not? Sober for a thought that I know, but to my thinkin' he's that daft that he's no ways responsible for aught that he says.' "'Why, you upstairs soon after the alarm was given?' asked the coroner, when she had told of hearing from the butler the news of the murder. Yes, sir, I went up as soon as I ever heard what had happened. Who was in the library at that time? Nobody, but some other servant, sir. I met Mr. Whitney just as I came out. Did you meet anyone else? I met no one. But I saw the housekeeper comin' out of her son's room. She didn't see me, but she was tellin' him to get ready quick to go somewheres, and I heard her say to Harry, for every minute was precious. Louis Picoe, the head-cook, could give no information whatever. When the alarm was given he had rushed with the other servants to the scene of the murder, and in his imperfect English, accompanied by expressive French gestures, he tried to convey his horror and grief at the situation. But that was all. The two maids who attended the English ladies were next called upon, but their testimony was mainly corroborative of that of the chambermaid, except that Sarah Whitley, Miss Carlton's maid, stated in addition that she had seen Mr. Walter Lagrange leave his mother's room in great haste and go downstairs, and a little later, from one of the upper windows, saw him riding away from the stables in the direction of the south gate. But one servant remained, Uncle Mose, as he was familiarly called, the old colored man having charge of the grounds at Faroaks. His snow-white hair and bent form gave him a venerable appearance, but he was still active, and the shrewd old face showed both humor and pathos as he proceeded with his story. He had been a slave in his younger days and still designated his late employer by the old term, Marcer. He was a well-known character to many present, including Dr. Westlake, who knew that in this instance questions would have to be abandoned, and the witness allowed to tell his story in his own way. Well, Uncle Mose, you have been employed at Faroaks for a long time, haven't you? Moa then twenty years, sir. I's had charge of these here grounds, and Marcer main-wearing he taught nobody but old Mose could take care of them, sir. You were about the grounds as usual Wednesday, were you not? I was about the grounds all day, sir, because there was a powerful lot to do, a getting ready for the big do-ins that was going to be a Mose's birthday. Did you see either of the strangers who called that day? I was a common to that directly, sir. You see, sir, I want to stay right here, before I go any further, that I don't know nothing except what took place under my own observation. I don't fear cold pond to express no opinions about nobody. I just want to state a few recurrences that I noted at the time, especially about them strangers, as was here in particular. Well, sir, the first man, he come here in the morning. The English gentlemen, they had been awoken in the grounds, and just done gone round the corner, or the house, to go to Marcer main-wearing's library. When this man, he comes up the avenue in a carriage, and the first thing I hear, I'm accustomed to driver. Then he gets out, and looks round kind of quick, just like the possum in the corn, as if he was afraid somebody don't see him. I was fixing the roses on the front porch, and I looked at him powerful shot, and when the door opened, he jumped in quick, as if he was glad to get out of sight. Well, sir, I didn't like the appearance of that man, and I just thought I'd take another look at him, but he stayed a much long time, sir, and Bomba had to go to the toolhouse, and when I gets back, the carriage was gone. Could you describe the man, Uncle Mose? The coroner asked. No, sir. I don't know as I could scribe him exactly, but I'd know him no matter where I saw eyes on him, and I'd know him the next time I see him. Well, sir, that afternoon, Marcer main-wearing and the folks had gone out riding, and I was round kind of promiscuous like, and I see another carriage way down the avenue by the front gate, and I waited, expecting maybe I'd see that man again. While I was waiting by the front door, all of a sudden a man come round from the side, as if he come from Marcer main-wearing's library, but he was another man. Did he look at all like the first man, inquired the coroner? No, sir. He looked all together different, but I don't know as I could state wherein the differentiation consisted, sir. This man was very good-looking except in his eyes, and damn you couldn't see, because he had uncolored glasses. Maybe his eyes was powerful weak, or maybe he didn't want nobody to see him, but I spished in them glasses directly, sir, and I watched him. He goes down to the carriage and takes out a coat and says something to the driver, and the carriage goes away towards the town, and he walks off the other way. By and by I see him going back again on the other side of the street. Was he alone? Interrupted the coroner? Yes, sir, and I done kept my eye on him, and he didn't go on to the town, but turned down the first side street. Well, sir, I didn't see no more of him then, but that evening I'd been working round the house, sprinkling the grass and getting ready for the next day, when I happened to pass by the side-doa, and I seized them two men coming out together. What time was this, Uncle Mose? The coroner asked quickly. Well, sir, said the old man reflectively. My memory's a little derelictious on that punt, but I nosed was getting putty late. Are you sure these were the same two men you had seen earlier in the day? Yes, sir, because I stepped in the bushes to watch them. They talked together very low, and then one man goes back into the house, and I seen him playing in the whole light, and he was the first man. And while I was watching him, the other man, he disappeared, and I couldn't see him no more. But I nosed he was the man that came in the afternoon, because he looks just like him, and toted a coat on his arm. Well, sir, I think it a very curious circumstance, and I was just coming to the preclusion that I'd mention it to some of the family, when the first man, he come to the dole with the housekeeper. I was in the shatter, and they didn't see me, but I hear them say kind of soft like, remember my dear lady, this is a business contract. I does my part, and I expect my pay. And she says, Oh yes, you shall have your money without fail. And I says to myself, Moes, you old fool, what you stand here for? That ain't nothing that concerns you know how, and I goes home, and that's all I know, sir. But I've been powerful sorry ever since, that I didn't let my sermenware know about it, because I has my suspicions. And the old darkie shook his head, while the tears coursed down his furrowed cheeks. How did you hear of Mr. Mainwearing's death? asked the corner. The coachman, he done told me, sir. Why, the coachman stated that you told him what had occurred. No, sir, he done told me. I'd come up to the place powerfully that morning, because there was to be such big doings that day, and I was going to the toolhouse for some, and I see Master Walter riding away from the stables powerful fast on his horse. Do you mean Walter Lagrange? Yes, sir. And the coachman, he came out, and I asked him where the young man was going that alley, and he say, Master Mainwearing being killed, and Master Walter had to go to town as fast as his horse could take him. Do you know when he returned? He came back, sir, before very long, and then he went away again, and didn't come back till most noon. When the old darkie had been dismissed, the coachman was recalled. What did you mean by stating that you first heard of Mr. Mainwearing's death from the gardener when the reverse was true? I don't know, he replied carelessly, I suppose I got mixed. I remember talking with him about it, and I thought he told me. You had forgotten the interview with Walter Lagrange, I presume. Brown made no answer. Why did you not mention that? I wasn't asked to, he replied in insolent tones. You said nothing to me about Mr. Lagrange. You are expected to stay in full every occurrence having any bearing on the situation. You may give the particulars of that interview now. There's nothing to tell more than Uncle Moe's told. I was working in the staples as usual, and Mr. Lagrange came in in a big hurly, and ordered me to saddle his horse as quick as I could, and that Mr. Mainwearing had been murdered, and he'd got to go to town. At what time was this? About half past seven, I should say. Did he state his errand? No, sir. When did he return? I saw his horse standing in the yard outside the staples about half an hour later, and then it was gone, and I didn't see it again till noon. Walter Lagrange was next called. He stated that he had spent the greater part of the day preceding the murder away from Faroaks. He had not been at home to luncheon or dinner, and consequently knew nothing of the strangers seen on the place that day. He had returned about half past ten that evening, and remembered seeing Mr. Mainwearing and his guests seated on the veranda, but he had gone directly to his room without meeting anyone. The first intimation which he had received of any unusual occurrence the next morning was when his mother entered his room and told him that Mr. Mainwearing had either been murdered or had committed suicide. No one knew which. Was that her only object in coming to your room? No, sir. She wanted me to do an errand for her. Will you state the nature of this errand? It was only to deliver a note. To whom? To Mr. Hobson, the young man answered weakly, while his mother frowned, the first sign of emotion of any kind which he had betrayed that day. Did you deliver the note? Yes, sir. Then, under your mother's orders, you went to the city on your second trip, did you not? Yes, sir. Were you successful in finding Mr. Hobson there? Yes, sir, the witness answered sullenly. You had other business in the city aside from meeting him, had you not? During the coroner's persistence and his mother's visible signs of displeasure, Walter Lagrange was fast losing his temper. If you know so much about this business, I don't see the use of your questioning me," he retorted angrily. It is no affair of mine, anyway. I had nothing to do with it, nor I won't be mixed up in it, and if you want any information you'd better ask Mother for it. It's her business and none of mine. After a few more questions which the witness answered sullenly and in monosyllables, he was dismissed. Mr. Higginbotham announced the coroner. The greatest surprise was manifested on every side as the senior member of a well-known firm of jewelers stepped forward, the same gentleman who had accompanied Mr. Whitney on his return from the city on the preceding day. Mr. Higginbotham said the coroner, I believe you are able to furnish some testimony which will be pertinent at this time. Yes, Dr. Westlake responded the other in deep musical tones. I think possibly I can render you a little assistance in your investigations. Mr. Higginbotham, do you recognize the young gentleman who has just given his testimony? I do, sir, said the witness, adjusting a pair of eyeglasses and gazing steadily at Walter Lagrange. I recall his features perfectly. You were personally acquainted with the late Hugh Mainwearing, I believe? Yes, sir, intimately acquainted with him. You are, I believe, familiar with the Mainwearing jewels which are now missing, continued the coroner. Mr. Lagrange looked uncomfortable, and his mother's cheek paled. I am, sir, having had them repeatedly left in my possession for safekeeping, during their owner's absence from home, and I have also a complete list of them with a detailed description of every piece. Very well, Mr. Higginbotham, will you please state when and under what circumstances you saw this young gentleman? I was seated in my private office yesterday morning when my head-clear came in and asked me to step out into the sales-rooms for a moment, as he said a young man was there trying to sell some very fine jewels, and, from his youth and ignorance of their value, he feared something was wrong. I went out immediately, and saw this young gentleman, who handed me for inspection a superb diamond brooch and an elegant necklace of diamonds and pearls. I instantly recognized the gems as pieces from the old Mainwearing collection of jewels. Simultaneously there occurred to my mind the report of the murder of Hugh Mainwearing, which I had heard but a short time before, although then I knew nothing of the robbery. Naturally my suspicions were awakened. I questioned the young man closely, however, and he stated that his home was at Fair Oaks, and that his mother was a distant relative of Mr. Mainwearing's, that the jewels were hers, and she wished to dispose of them for ready cash to meet an emergency. His story was so plausible that I thought possibly my suspicions had been somewhat hasty and premature. Still I declined to purchase the jewels, and when he left the store I ordered one of our private detectives to follow him and report to me. In the course of an hour the detective returned, and reported that the young men had sold the jewels to a pawnbroker for less than one-fourth their actual value. About half an hour later I heard the news of the robbery at Fair Oaks, and that the family jewels were missing. And knowing that Mr. Whitney was here I immediately telephoned to him the facts, which I have just stated. He came into the city at once, and we proceeded to the pawn-shop, where he also identified the jewels. Mr. Higginbotham paused for a moment, producing a packet from an inner pocket which he proceeded to open. We secured a loan of the jewels for a few days, he continued, advancing towards the corner. Here they are, and here is a copy of the list of which I spoke, but comparing these gems with the description of those which I have checked on the list, you will see that they are identical. He placed the open casket on the table. There was a moment silence, broken by subdued exclamations of admiration, as Dr. Westlake lifted the gems from their resting place. You are correct, he said. The description is complete. There is no doubt that these are a part of the collection. I see you have marked the value of these two items as seven thousand dollars. Yes, that is a moderate valuation. And were the prices of the other articles carried out? You would see that. With the exception of a very few small pieces, these have the least value of the entire lot. I believe I can be of no further service. Mrs. Lagrange was next recalled. Have you anything to say in reference to the testimony just given? The coroner inquired. I have this much to say, she replied haughtily, that I could have given you the history of those jewels, including perhaps some facts of which even Mr. Higginbotham and Mr. Whitney are in ignorance, and have thus spared you the infinite pains you have taken to make public the straits to which I was reduced because of my position here when in need of a little ready money. I could have informed you that they were originally a part of the old main-wearing collection of gems until they were given me by my husband. It hardly seems consistent that a man who treated his wife in the manner in which you claim to have been treated would bestow upon her gifts of such value as these, the coroner remarked with emphasis. They were of little value to him, she answered with scorn, as you have been informed, they were the poorest which he possessed. Besides there were times when I could persuade him to almost anything, anything, but to acknowledge his lawful wife and his legitimate son. Was the money which you were forced to raise by the sale of these jewels to be paid to Hobson? It was. In accordance with the terms of your contract with him, made a few hours preceding the death of Mr. Main-wearing? Yes, she replied defiantly, and as you probably would ask the nature of that contract I will save you the trouble, knowing that my son and I were likely to be defrauded of our rights in the same manner in which Hugh Main-wearing had defrauded others. I engaged Mr. Hobson as my attorney, as he, better than anyone else, knew the facts of the case. When I learned yesterday morning of my husband's death, I realized that I would have immediate need of his services, and accordingly sent him word to that effect. He demanded a large cash payment at once. The result of this demand, Mr. Higginbotham has already told you. How was Hobson to secure for you your rights from Hugh Main-wearing? That was left entirely to his own discretion. Will you describe the appearance of Mr. Hobson's clerk? Unfortunately I am unable to do so. He was merely brought as a witness to our contract. I knew that he was present, but he remained in the shadow, and I took no notice of him whatever. Your contract, then, was a verbal one? It was. Upon being closely questioned, Mrs. Lagrange reiterated her assertions of the preceding day, laying particular stress upon the alleged interview between Hugh Main-wearing and his secretary, after which she was dismissed, and Harry Scott was recalled. Mr. Scott, said the coroner, what were the relations existing between Mr. Main-wearing and yourself up to the time of his death? Scott flushed slightly as he replied, those ordinarily existing between employer and employed, except that I believe Mr. Main-wearing accorded me more than usual consideration, and I, while duly appreciative of his kindness, yet took a special pains never to exceed the bounds of an employee. Were there ever any unpleasant words passed between you? None whatever. Was your last interview with Mr. Main-wearing of a friendly nature? Entirely so. What have you to say in reference to the testimony given to the effect that your voice was heard and recognized in angry conversation with Mr. Main-wearing at nearly one o'clock? I have to say that it is false and without foundation. Do you mean to say that the statement of the witness was wholly without truth? I do not deny that such an interview, as alleged by the witness, may have taken place, for that is something concerning which I have no knowledge whatever, but I do deny that she heard my voice, or that I was in the library at that time, or at any time after about twenty minutes past twelve. Was that the time at which you went to your room? Very near that time, as my interview with Mr. Main-wearing could not have exceeded ten minutes. At what time did you retire? I sat up very late that night, for my mind was so occupied with some personal matters that I felt no inclination for sleep. I'd lighted a cigar, and became so absorbed in my own thoughts, that I was totally unaware of the lapse of time, until I was aroused by what I thought was a stealthy step outside. I then became conscious for the first time, that I was very weary, both physically and mentally, and I also discovered that it was nearly three o'clock. Astonished to find it so late, and exhausted by hours of protracted thought, I threw myself as I was upon a low couch, where I slept soundly until awakened in the morning. Further questions failed to reveal any discrepancy in his statement, and he was dismissed. The testimony of Ralph Main-wearing and of his son added nothing of interest or importance. Mr. Thornton testified to his incidental meeting with Hobson, and to the reputation which the man had borne in London, when he had resumed his seat, the coroner remarked, As a matter of form, I will have to call upon the ladies, though it is not expected they will be able to furnish any information throwing light on this mysterious case. It was, as he had said, little more than a ceremony, and occupied but a few moments. Miss Carlton was the last one called upon. She stated that it was nearly eleven o'clock when she reached her room, but added that she did not retire immediately, as her cousin Miss Thornton had come in, and they had chatted together for more than an hour, that while so engaged, she heard Mr. Scott come upstairs and enter his room, which joined hers, and locked the door for the night. At what hour was this? inquired the coroner. It could not have been more than twenty minutes after twelve, as it was twenty-five minutes after twelve, when my cousin went to her room, and this was about five minutes earlier. Can you state whether or not he left his room within the next half hour? I know that he did not, she replied. I contestified that he remained in his room, until after one o'clock. After my cousin left I discovered that the moon was just rising, and the view across the Hudson being extremely beautiful, as well as novel to me, I extinguished the light in my room, and sat down by the open window to enjoy it. I heard Mr. Scott stepping quietly about his room for a few moments, then all was still. I sat for some time admiring the scenery, until I was aroused by hearing him pacing back and forth like a person in deep thought. I then found it was much later than I supposed, nearly one o'clock, and I immediately retired, but so long as I was awake I could hear him walking in his room. As Miss Carlton finished her testimony it was evident that the tide of general opinion had turned somewhat in favor of the young secretary, but the latter quietly ignored the friendly glances cast in his direction. It was generally supposed that all testimony in the case had now been heard. Considerable surprise was, therefore, manifested when the coroner nodded to Mr. Whitney, who, in turn, beckoned to someone in the hall, in response the butler appeared, ushering in a tall man, with cadaverous features and small dark eyes which peered restlessly about him. Richard Hobson announced the coroner. At your service, sir, said the man, advancing with a cringing gait and fawning, apologetic smile. Mr. Hobson said the coroner after a few preliminaries. I understand you were somewhat acquainted with the late humane wearing. Well, yes, sir, somewhat. The other replied in soft insinuating tones, but with peculiar emphasis on the word used by Dr. Westlake. Indeed, I might say, without exaggeration, that I was probably better acquainted with that estimable gentleman than was anyone in this country. When did you last see Mr. Mainwearing? I have not seen him to speak with him for fully twenty-three years. You have corresponded with him, however, in that time? The witness showed no surprise. We exchanged a few letters while I was in England. I have neither heard from him nor written to him since coming to this country. When did you last see him, regardless of whether you spoke to him or not? Probably within the last two or three weeks. I have occasionally met him on the street. Did Mr. Mainwearing see you at any of these times? If he did, he did not recognize me. Did you see him when you called at Faroaks Wednesday, either morning or evening? I did not. Mr. Hobson, will you describe the man who accompanied you when you called in the evening Wednesday? I could give you a general description. He was a large man, about my own height, but heavier, and rather good-looking on the whole, but I am not good on details such as complexion, color of hair, and so on, and then, you know, those little things are very easily changed. What was his name? Mr. Hobson smiled blandly. The name by which I know him is John Carroll, but I have no idea as to his real name. He is a very eccentric character, many-sided as it were, and I never know which side will come uppermost. He is your clerk and in your employ, is he not? Agent, I think, would be the preferable term. He is in my employ. He transacts certain business for me, but he does it in his own way, and comes and go at his own discretion. Where is he at present? I have no idea, sir. Did he leave for the city that night, or did he remain with you at the Riverside Hotel? He was not with me at the hotel except for a few hours. I have not the slightest idea from whence he came to see me, when he went away, or in what direction he went. He was in haste to be excused, as soon as our joint business was done, and I have not seen him since. Did he have on dark glasses that day? Not when I saw him, but that was only in my room at the hotel, and for a few moments in this house he would have no need for them at either place. Did he not accompany you from the hotel to Fair Oaks? No, sir, we met here by pre-arrangement. When do you expect to see your agent again? Whenever he has any business reports to make, Hobson replied, with an exasperating smile. But I have no idea when that will be. He has other commissions to execute. He is in the employ of others beside myself, and transacts some business on his own account also. I understand, Mr. Hobson, that you have repeatedly extorted money from Mr. Mainwearing by threatening to disclose facts in your possession regarding some questionable transaction. No, sir, my action could not be termed extortion or blackmail, within the meaning of the law, though to anyone conversant with Mr. Mainwearing's private correspondence it may have had that appearance. I was, however, merely making an effort to collect what was legally doomy. Mr. Mainwearing, before leaving England, had voluntarily bound himself to pay me a certain sum upon the condition that I would not reveal certain transactions of considerably more than questionable character. I kept my part of the contract, but he failed in his. I wrote him, therefore, threatening, unless he fulfilled his share of the agreement to institute proceedings against him, which would naturally involve a disclosure of his secret. He never paid me in full, and the secret is still mine. He paused and then added slowly, to keep or to sell, as will pay me best. Was Hugh Mainwearing ever married? the coroner asked abruptly. I believe he was not generally considered a married man, sir. Was there ever any private marriage? Hobson smiled enigmatically. You already have the word of the lady herself, sir, that should be sufficient. I cannot reveal any of Hugh Mainwearing's secrets, unless I am well paid for it. Hobson was dismissed without further questions, and the examination being now at an end, the coroner's jury retired to the room in the rear of the library. Very few left the house, for all felt that little time would be required for the finding of a verdict, and comment and opinion were freely exchanged. Well, said Mr. Sutherland, turning towards the secretary with a smile, they did not learn one fact from that lapse witness, for I doubt whether one of the few statements he did make had an iota of truth in it. By the way, Mr. Scott, it's a very fortunate thing that you've got the proofs you have. It would be a risky piece of work to depend on that man's word for proof. He is as slippery as an eel. With those proofs, however, there is no doubt that you've got a strong case. It will be hard to convince Ralph Mainwearing of that fact. Yes, he looks as though he would hold on to his opinions pretty tenaciously. Not so tenaciously as he would grasp any money coming within his reach. At a little distance Mr. Whitney was engaged in conversation with the Englishman. I never thought he would be in any way connected with it, he was saying. In the first place there was no motive. There could be none. Then again I believe he is altogether above suspicion. I know Mr. Mainwearing had the most implicit confidence in him. Well, said Mr. Thornton, for my part, I'm heartily glad if there is nothing in it. I always liked the young fellow. That's just where I don't agree with you. I don't like him. Ralph Mainwearing replied in a surly tone. He may be all right as far as this matter is concerned. I don't say yet that he is or isn't, but I do say that to the fame a man's character after he's dead in the manner he has is simply outrageous, and you may depend upon it. There's some personal spite back of it. Oh well, as to Hugh's character, I don't think you or I are going to fret ourselves about that, laughed Mr. Thornton. He probably sowed his wild oats with the rest of us, and there may have been some reasons for his leaving England as he did. I don't believe it, Ralph Mainwearing retorted angrily, but before he could say more the doors opened and the coroner's jury filed into the room. There was instant silence, and a moment later the verdict had been announced. It was what everyone had expected, and yet there was not one but experienced a feeling of disappointment and dissatisfaction. We find that the deceased, Hugh Mainwearing, came to his death by the discharge of a revolver in the hands of some person or persons to us unknown. CHAPTER X The crowd dispersed rapidly, passing down the oak-lined avenue in twos and threes, engaged in animated discussion of the details of the inquest, while each one advanced some theory of his own regarding the murder. Mr. Sutherland had taken his departure after making an appointment with Scott for the following day, and the latter now stood in one of the deep bow windows engrossed with his own thoughts. Suspicion had been partly diverted from himself, but only partially as he well knew, to return like a tidal wave deepened and intensified by personal animosity whenever the facts he had thus far so carefully concealed should become known. He gave little thought to this, however, except as it influenced him in planning his course of action for the next few days. He was aroused from his reverie by the sound of approaching steps, and turning met Mr. Whitney. Ah, Mr. Scott, I was just looking for you. I thought possibly who had slipped back to the city with the crowd. I wanted to say, Mr. Scott, that if it will be agreeable to you, I wish you would remain at Fair Oaks for the next few days or weeks, as the case may be. Mr. Ralph Mainwearing has retained my services to aid in securing his title to the estate, and the will having been destroyed, complications are likely to arise, so that it may take some time to get matters adjusted. Much of the business will of necessity have to be transacted here, as all of Mr. Mainwearing's private papers are here, and if you will stay and help us out I will see, of course, that your salary goes right on as usual. An excuse for remaining at Fair Oaks was what Scott particularly desired, but he replied indifferently. If it will accommodate you, Mr. Whitney, I can remain for a few days. Very well. I cannot say just how long we may need you, though I anticipate a long contest. Against Mrs. LaGrange? Yes, though she has, in my opinion, no legal right whatever, yet she will make a hard fight, and with that trickster Hobson to help her with his chicanery, it is libel to take some time to beat them. You expect to win in the end, however? Certainly. There is no doubt, but that Ralph Mainwearing will win the case. He will get the property either for his son or for himself. We are first going to try to have the will upheld in the courts. Failing in that, the property will, of course, be divided between the nearest heirs, Ralph Mainwearing, and a young bachelor brother, in which event the whole thing will, in all probability, finally revert to his son you. Mr. Whitney, what is your opinion of Mrs. LaGrange's story of a private marriage? The attorney shook his head decidedly. One of her clever lies, but if she ever undertakes to tell that little romance in court, I'll tear it all to shreds. She never was married to Hugh Mainwearing. But, he added slowly, I may as well tell you that Walter was his son. Mr. Mainwearing the same as admitted that to me once, but I am certain that, aside from that fact, that woman had some terrible hold on him, though what I never knew. By the way, Mr. Scott, do you know anything of the particulars of that transaction, to which those letters referred, and to which Hobson alluded to-day? Yes, sir. Mr. Whitney looked keenly at the young man. You obtained your knowledge originally from other sources than Mr. Mainwearing's correspondence, did you not? Yes, sir. I thought so. Do you know, Mr. Scott, I would denounce the whole thing as a lie, a scheme of that adventurous, or that imposter Hobson, or both, by which they hoped to gain some hold on the heirs, were it not that, from your manner, I have been convinced that you have some personal knowledge of the facts in the case, that you know far more than you have yet told. Mr. Whitney paused, watching the young secretary closely, but there was no reply, and with all his penetration the attorney could read nothing in the immobile face before him. He continued. Whatever that transaction may have been, I wished to know nothing about it. I was much attached to Mr. Mainwearing and respected him highly, and I want to respect his memory, and I will tell you frankly what I most dread in this coming contest. I expect nothing else, but that either that woman or Hobson will drag the affair out from its hiding-place and will hold it up for the public to gloat over, as it always does. I hate to see a man's reputation blackened in that way, especially when that man was my friend, and his own lips are sealed in death. It is a pity, said Scott slowly, but if one wishes to leave behind him an untarnished reputation he must back it up while living with an unblemished character. Well, said the attorney tentatively after another pause, Mr. Mainwearing's character, whatever it may have been before we were associated with him, certainly had no effect upon your life or mine, hence I feel that it is nothing with which we are directly concerned, and I believe, in fact I know, that it will be for your interest, Mr. Scott, if you say nothing regarding whatever knowledge you may have of the past. Mr. Whitney, watching the effect of his words, suddenly saw an expression totally unlike anything he had ever seen on the face of the Secretary, and yet strangely familiar. Scott turned and faced him, with eyes cold and cynical, and that seemed to pierce him through and through, remarking in tones of quiet irony, I am greatly obliged for your advice, Mr. Whitney, regarding my interests, but it is not needed. Furthermore, I think all your thought and attention will be required to look after the interests of Ralph Mainwearing, and without waiting for a reply he stepped through one of the low old-fashioned windows opening upon the veranda and disappeared, leaving the attorney alone. By George, but that was cool, ejaculated the latter, and that look, where have I seen it? I believe that Ralph Mainwearing is more than half right after-all, and there is something back of all this. So absorbed was he in his own reflections as to be wholly unaware of the presence of the detective in the hall near the doorway, where he had paused, long enough to witness the parting between Scott and the attorney, and who now pass quietly upstairs, remarking to himself, Whitney is pretty sharp, but he's more than got his match there, that young fellow is too deep for him or any other rest of him, and he's likely to come out where they least expect to find him. Half an hour later, Mr. Merrick, stepping from the private library into the upper southern hall, heard the sound of voices, which, from his familiarity with the rooms, he knew must proceed from Mrs. Lagrange's parlor. He cautiously descended the stairs to the lowest landing, in which was a deep window. The shutters were tightly closed, and concealing himself behind the heavy curtains, he awaited developments. He was now directly opposite the door of the parlor, and through the partially open transom he could hear the imperious tones of Mrs. Lagrange and the soft insinuating accents of Hobson. For a while he was unable to distinguish a word, but the variations in Hobson's tones indicated that he was not seated, but walking back and forth, while Mrs. Lagrange's voice betrayed intense excitement and gradually grew louder. You are not altogether invulnerable. Merrick heard her say angrily. You were an accessory in that affair, and you cannot deny it. Hobson evidently had paused near the door, as his reply was distinctly audible. You have not an atom of proof as you well know, and even if you had, our acquaintance, my dear madam, has been too long and of too intimate a nature for you to care to attempt any of your little tricks with me. You play a deep game, my lady, but I hold the winning hand yet. If you are dastardly enough to threaten me, I am not such a coward as to fear you. I have played my cards better than you know," she answered defiantly. My dear lady, Hobson replied, and the doorknob turned slightly under his hand. Those little speeches sound very well, but we both understand each other perfectly. You want my services in this case. You must have them, and I am willing to render them. But it is useless for you to dictate terms to me. I will undertake the case in accordance with your wishes, but only upon the conditions mentioned. The reply was inaudible, but was evidently satisfactory to Hobson, for as he opened the door there was a leer of triumph on his face. He glanced suspiciously about the hall, and on reaching the door turned to Mrs. Lagrange, who had accompanied him, saying in his smoothest tones, I shall be out again in two or three days. Should you wish to see me before that time you can telephone to my office, or send me a word. She bowed silently, and he took his departure, but as she returned to her room she exclaimed fiercely, Craven, let me but once get my rights secured, and he will find whether I stand in fear of him. Having taken leave of Mrs. Lagrange, Hobson carefully avoided the front part of the house and grounds, taking instead the graveled walk leading through the grove towards the lake in the rear and out upon the side street. As he was hurrying along this rather secluded avenue he was suddenly confronted by Scott, although strangers to each other, Hobson instantly conjectured that this must be the secretary who had betrayed such familiarity with the correspondence which had passed between himself and humane wearing, and that it might be to his own interest to form the acquaintance of the young man. Quickest thought he drew from his pocket a card, and pausing suddenly in his rapid walk said with a profound bow, I beg pardon, I cannot be mistaken, have I not the pleasure of addressing Mr. Scott? That is my name, replied the secretary coldly. I beg you to accept this card, and allow me to suggest that you may find it conducive to your interest to call upon me at the address named if you will take the trouble to do so. Scott glanced from the card to the speaker regarding the latter with closed scrutiny. You seem very solicitous of the interest of a stranger, as it is not to be presumed that you have any ulterior motive in making this suggestion. Hobson appeared to ignore the sarcasm. It is barely possible, he continued in his most ingratiating tones, that I may be in possession of facts which it would be to your advantage to learn. In case you are, I suppose, of course, you would impart them to me simply out of pure disinterestedness without a thought of pecuniary compensation. Hobson winced, and glanced nervously about him. I must hasten, he said. I cannot stop for explanations, but you will find me in my office at two o'clock tomorrow if you care to call. Meantime, my young friend, I am not perhaps as mercenary as you think, and I may be able to be of great assistance to you. And with a final bow, the man hastily disappeared around a turn of the winding walk. Scott proceeded in the opposite direction in a deep study. Is it possible, he soliloquized, that that creature is on my track and has any proposition to make to me? Or is he afraid that I know his secret and that I may deprive him of his hold upon the main wearings? More likely, it is the latter. A week ago I was looking for that man, and would probably have endeavour to make terms with him, though it would have involved an immense amount of risk. For a cast iron contract wouldn't hold him, and his testimony would be worth little or nothing one way or the other. Scott glanced at the address on the card. Not a very desirable locality. It probably suits him and his business, though, I believe. I will give the scoundrel a call and see what I can draw out of him. Dinner was announced as Scott returned to the house, and a number of circumstances combined to render the meal far pleasanter and more social than any since the death of the master of pharox. Mr. Merrick was nowhere to be found, and the slight restraint imposed by his presence was removed. Mrs. Lagrange and her son were also absent, preferring to take their meals privately in an unjoining room which humane wearing had often used as a breakfast room. The silence and frigidity which had lately reigned at the table seemed to have given place to an almost universal sociability, though Ralph Mainwearing's face still wore a sullen scowl. As Mr. Whitney met the Secretary, his sensitive face flushed at the remembrance of their late interview, and he watched the young man with evident curiosity. Scott was conscious, however, of an increased friendliness towards himself on the part of most of the guests, but feeling that it was likely to prove of short duration he remained noncommittal and indifferent. As they left the table, Ms. Carlton rallied him on his appearance. Mr. Scott, you are a mystery. Why so, Ms. Carlton, if you please, he asked quickly. Just now, when everybody's spirits are relaxing after that horrible inquest, you'll look more serious and glum than I have ever seen you. I threw myself into the breach this afternoon to rescue you from the enemy's grounds, wither you had been carried to the sensational statements of Mrs. Lagrange and the Coachman and Chambermaid, and I have not even seen you smile once since. Perhaps, she added archly, he didn't care to be rescued by a woman, but would have preferred to make your own way out. No, said Scott, smiling very brightly now. I'll not be so ungrateful as to say that, but I believe I am generally able to fight my own battles, but I will confess that I was somewhat disappointed this afternoon when you gave your testimony. How could that be? she inquired, greatly surprised. Up to that time I had flattered myself that I had one friend who had faith in me, even though circumstances conspired against me. I discovered then that it was no confidence in me, but only a knowledge of some of the facts that kept her from turning against me like the rest. Scott spoke in serial comic tones, and Ms. Carlton looked keenly in his face to see if he were jesting. No, you are mistaken, Mr. Scott, she said slowly after a pause. My confidence in you would have been just as strong if I had known nothing of the facts. Thank you, I am very glad to hear that, he answered. Then added gently. Would it be strong enough to stand a far heavier strain than that, if it were necessary? His tones were serious now, and she regarded him inquiringly for a moment before speaking. Then seeing young main-wearing approaching with his sister and Ms. Thornton, she replied in low tones, I have no idea to what you refer, Mr. Scott, and I begin to think you are indeed a mystery, but you can be assured of this much. I would never under any circumstances believe you capable of anything false or dishonorable. Scott's eyes expressed his gratification at these words, and he would then have withdrawn, but neither Ms. Carlton nor young main-wearing gave him an opportunity to do so without seeming discourteous. Both drew him into conversation and found him exceedingly entertaining, though reserved concerning himself. Isabelle main-wearing still held herself aloof, and took little part in the conversation. But to make amends for this, Ms. Thornton bestowed some of her most winning smiles upon the handsome young secretary, her large infantile blue eyes, regarding him with wondering curiosity. After a pleasant evening, Scott excused himself and retired to his room. But an hour or two later there was a knock at his door, and on opening it he saw young main-wearing and smoking cap and jacket. I say, Scott, won't you come out and have a smoke? I've got some fine cigars, and it's too pretty a night to stay in one's room. Come out on my balcony and we'll have a bit of a talk and smoke. Scott readily consented, and the two young men proceeded to the balcony upon which main-wearing's room opened, where the latter had already placed two reclining chairs, and a small table containing a box of his favorite Havana's. For a few moments they puffed in silence, looking out into the starlit night with its beauty of dim outline and mysterious shadow. Main-wearing was the first to speak. I say, Scott, I am awfully ashamed of the way that some of us, my family in particular, have treated you within the last day or two. It was confoundedly shabby, and I beg your pardon for my share in it anyhow. Don't waste any regrets over that matter, Scott answered indifferently. I never gave it any thought, and it is not worth mentioning. I do regret it, though, more than I can tell, and I haven't any excuse for myself. Only things did look so ducidly queer there for a while, don't you know? Well, said Scott pleasantly, we are not out of the woods yet, and there is no telling what developments may arise. Things might look queer again, you know. That's all right. I know a gentleman when I see him, unless I happen to lose my head, and that doesn't occur very often. Now it's different with the governor. He's got so confoundedly wrought up over that wheel, don't you know, that he can't think of anything else, and there's no reason in him. As I understand it, remarked Scott, Mr. Main-wearing expects to win the property in any case, either for you or for himself. Yes, and naturally you might think that the loss of the wheel wouldn't amount to much, one way or the other, but it's like this. The governor and I are very different. I know we've got plenty of ducats, and that's enough for me, but not for him. He is ambitious. It has always galled him that we were not in the direct line of dissent from the main branch of the Main-wearing's, and it has been his one great ambition since the death of old Ralph Main-wearing, Hugh's father, a few years before I was born, to win into his own family, the old Main-wearing estate. He had an idea that Hugh would never marry, and gave me his name, hoping that I would be made his heir. Should the governor succeed in this scheme of his, he will immediately buy back the Main-wearing estate, although he knows I don't care a wrap for the whole thing, and we will then have the honor, as he considers it, of perpetuating the old family line. On the other hand, if the property goes to the nearest heirs, it will be divided between him and his younger brother. Uncle Harold has no more ambition than I have, and though he is at present a bachelor, that is no guarantee that he will remain one, and anyhow, it isn't likely that there will be much of his share left when he gets through with it, so you see how much the importance the governor attached to that will. I understand, said Scott, as his companion paused. Then he added musingly, Your uncle's name seems to be rather unusual among the Main-wearing's. I do not recall you're having mentioned it before. What, Harold? On the contrary, it is the great name in our family, especially in the Main-line. I would have been given that name, if the governor had not been looking out for Hugh Main-wearing's money. There was a direct line of Harold's down to my great grandfather. He gave that name to his eldest son, but he died, and the next one, Ralph, Hugh's father, took up the line. Guy, my grandfather, was the youngest. One would almost have thought that Hugh Main-wearing would have borne the name of Harold, commented Scott. Young Main-wearing spoke for a moment in silence, then said in lower tones, Old Uncle Ralph had a son by that name. Indeed, had Hugh Main-wearing a brother? Scott asked in surprise. Yes, there was a brother, but he died a great many years ago. There is quite a story connected with his name, but I don't know many of the particulars for the governor seldom alludes to it. I know, however, that Harold was the elder son, but that Uncle Ralph disinherited him for marrying against his wishes, and afterwards died of grief over the affair, and soon after his father's death, Harold was lost at sea. You say he married. Did he leave any children? No, I believe he had no children, but even if he had, they would have been disinherited also. Uncle Ralph was severe. He would not even allow Harold's name to be mentioned, and Hugh also must have turned against his brother, for I have heard that he never spoke of him or allowed any illusion to be made to him. Well, said Scott after a pause, I believe Hugh Main-wearing's life was far from happy. You are right there. I'll never forget the last words he ever spoke to me as I took leave of him that night. They were, to the effect, that he hoped when I should have reached his age I would be able to look back over a happier past than his had been. It is my opinion, too, that that woman was the cause of his unhappiness, and I believe she is at the bottom of all this trouble. Their conversation had drifted to the mystery then surrounding them, and for more than an hour they dwelt on that subject, advancing many surmises, some strangely improbable, but none of which seemed to bring them any nearer a solution of the problem. My first visit to this country has proved an eventful one, said young Main-wearing. As at a late hour they finally separated for the night, and I don't know yet how it may terminate, but there's one thing I shall look back upon with pleasure, and that is my meeting with you. And I hope that from this time on we will be friends, and that this friendship begun tonight will be renewed in Old England many a time. Are you not rather rash? Scott inquired slowly, considering how little we know of each other, the circumstances under which we have met, and the uncertainty of what the future may reveal. No, I'm peculiar. When I like a fellow I like him, and I've been studying you pretty closely. I don't think we need either of us to be troubled about the future. But I'm your friend, Scott, and whatever happens I'll stand by you. So be it, then, Hugh, replied the Secretary, clasping the hand of the young Englishman and for the first time calling him by name. I thank you, and I hope you will never go back on that. End of Chapter 10 Chapter 11 of that Main-wearing affair This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. That Main-wearing affair by A. Maynard Barber Chapter 11 Skirmishing On the following morning the gentlemen at Fair Oaks were astir at an unusually early hour, and immediately after breakfast held a brief conference. It was decided to offer a heavy reward for the apprehension of the murderer of Hugh Main-wearing, while a lesser reward was to be offered for information leading to identification and arrest of the guilty party. Preparations were also to be made for the funeral, which would take place the next day, and which in accordance with the wishes of Ralph Main-wearing was to be strictly private. Their conference at an end, Ralph Main-wearing ordered the carriage to take himself, Mr. Whitney and the Secretary, to the depot. I believe I will ride down with you, said Mr. Merrick. Certainly. Plenty of room. Going to the city? Yes, but not with you, gentlemen. We will part company at the depot, and I will take another car. How are you getting on, Mr. Merrick? inquired Mr. Thornton. As well as can be expected, all things considered was the non-committal reply. Going to be a slow case, I'm afraid, commented Ralph Main-wearing, shaking his head in a doubtful way, while Mr. Thornton added jokingly. We've got some mighty fine fellows over home there at the yard. If you should want any help, Merrick, I'll cable for one of them. Thank you, sir, said the detective with quiet dignity. I don't anticipate that I shall want any assistance, and if I should, I will hardly need imported from Scotland Yard. That all depends, you know, on what your man is. If the rascal happens to have any English blood in him, it will take a Scotland Yard chap to run him down. On the principle, I suppose, of set a rogue to catch a rogue, Merrick replied, smiling. He had scarcely finished speaking, when Hardy suddenly entered the room. Big pardon, sir, he said, addressing Ralph Main-wearing. But the coachman is gone. We've looked everywhere for him, but he's nowhere about the place. When did he go? asked Mr. Whitney quickly. Nobody knows, sir. Joe, the stable-boy, says he hasn't been around at all this morning. Bring the boy here, said Mr. Main-wearing. There was instantly requeled to everyone present the memory of Brown's insolent manner at the inquest, together with his confused and false statements. In a few moments Hardy returned with the stable-boy, an unkempt, ignorant-looking lad of about fourteen, but with a face old and shrewd beyond his years. Are you one of the servants here? Mr. Main-wearing inquired. I works here, if that's what you mean. But I don't call myself nobody's servant. How did it happen that you were not at the inquest? He demanded. Did get no invite, was the reply, accompanied by a grin, while Hardy explained that the boy did not belong to the place, but had been hired by the coachman to come nights and mornings and attend to the stable-work. What do you know about this Brown? inquired Mr. Main-wearing, addressing the boy. Well, I guess he's been a-going it at a pretty lively gate lately. You mean he was fast? I guess that's about the size of it. When did you see him last? Hain't seen nothing of him since last night, and then he was sort of crusty and didn't say much. I come down this morning and went to work. He always left the stable-key where I could get it. But I haven't seen or heard nothing of him. Main him, with an emphatic nod towards Hardy, went up to his room. But he weren't there, nor I hadn't been there all night. Why do you think he was fast? Well, from all I've heard about him, I guess he'd been going with a kinder hard set lately. I've seen some pretty tough-looking subs hanging round the stables. There was a lot of them waiting for him Wednesday night. Wednesday night, ejaculated Mr. Whitney. At what time, and who were they? I don't know who they was, but they was hanging round by eight o'clock, waiting for him to go with them. And then he's had lots of money lately. How do you know this? I heard him jingling in his room. At night at four last, I climbed upstairs and peeked in, and he had a whole pile of gold pieces about that high, measuring with his hands. But he see me, and he say he'd give me a whale and if he'd catch me at it again. Did you watch him last night? Asked Mr. Mainwearing. Yes. He acted so kind or queer that I waited round to see what he was going to do. After twist still, and he thought I'd gone, he come down and started off towards the side street. Just for fun, I followed him. And when he got to the lake, he stopped and looked all round, as if to make sure there weren't nobody to see him. And then he takes something. I couldn't see what out from under his coat, and chucks it quick into the lake. And then he started on a run down towards the street. Couldn't you see what he threw? No. I couldn't see what it was, but it struck the water off a heavy. Is that all you know about the affair? Yes, that's all. Wait a minute, said Mr. Merrick, as the boy turned to leave the room. Can you tell how many, or what kind of looking men, were with Brown on Wednesday night? There was three of them. One was a big fellow with kinder, squint eyes. The other two was only looking fellas. One of them was dark like a furner, and Tyler had sort of yellow hair. How long were they there? About half an hour, guess. They was all gone for nine o'clock. Did you hear anything that was said? I heard him talking something about the boss. Mr. Mainwearing? Yes. He'd made a kick about something or another that afternoon, and Brown he was cussing mad. And then when they went away I heard one of them say something about making a good job of it. How was this hardy? inquired Mr. Whitney. Had there been any words Wednesday between Mr. Mainwearing and the coachman? Yes, sir. I had forgotten it. But now I remember that when he came back that afternoon he found some fault with the coachman, and Brown was very insolent. And then Mr. Mainwearing threatened to discharge him. Pond my soul! I should say here was something worth looking into, said Mr. Thornton, as the boy left the room accompanied by hardy. A great pity that we could not have had his testimony at the inquest, commented the attorney. We might then have cornered Brown, but I was not aware that there was such a person employed on the place. Meanwhile a carriage ordered by telephone from the Arlington had already arrived at Fair Oaks. Well, said Ralph Mainwearing, the carriage is waiting. We had better proceed to the depot. We can't talk of this latest development on our way. You will excuse me, gentlemen, said Mr. Merrick quietly. I have changed my mind, and will postpone my trip to the city. Struck a new trail, eh? queried Ralph Mainwearing with a peculiar expression as he paused a light a cigar. On the contrary, sir, only following up an old one, and with a somewhat ambiguous smile the detective withdrew. The coachman's sudden disappearance, together with the facts learned from the stable boy, formed the subject of discussion for the next half hour between Ralph Mainwearing and the attorney. Scott listening with a thoughtful face, although taking little part in the conversation. Upon their arrival at the offices of Mainwearing and Company, they were given a cordial greeting by Mr. Elliott and Mr. Chittenden, after which they passed on to the elegant private offices of Hugh Mainwearing. Mr. Whitney was visibly affected as he entered the familiar rooms, and to each one was forcibly recalled the memory of their meeting a few days before. A brief silence followed, and then in subdued tones they began to discuss the business, which had now brought them there. At about two o'clock that afternoon Scott found himself entering an ancient and dilapidated looking block in a rather disreputable part of the city. He had fulfilled his appointment with Mr. Sutherland, and after an hour's conversation both gentlemen appeared very sanguine regarding the case under consideration. As Scott was taking leave, he produced Hopson's card and related the particulars of their incidental meeting at Fair Oaks and Hopson's urgent invitation to call upon him at his office. Mr. Sutherland laughed. About what I expected, he said, it was evident from his remarks at the inquest that someone, probably Mrs. Lagrange, had posted to him concerning you, and he is afraid you are on to his secret. I had questioned if it were that, or whether possibly he might be on to mine. Not at all probable, said the attorney after a moment's reflection. If he really understood your position, he would be far too cunning to allow you to get sight of him. You have the scoundrel completely in your power. Yes, as much as he is in anybody's power, but it is doubtful if anyone can hold so slippery a rascal as he. I believe I will give him a call, however. It will do no harm, taking care of course, that you give him no information. Oh, certainly, said Scott with a smile, as he paused for an instant in the doorway. My object will be to get, not give, information. His object will probably be the same, was Mr. Sutherland's parting shot, as he turned with a laugh to his desk. Scott, having ascended a narrow, crooked stairway, found himself in a long, dark hole, poorly ventilated, and whose filthy condition was only too apparent, even in the dim light. Far in the rear he saw a door bearing the words. R. Hobson, attorney. As he pushed open the door, a boy of about seventeen, who, with a cigarette in his mouth and his feet on a table, sat reading a novel, instantly assumed the perpendicular, and wheeling about, faced Scott, with one of the most villainous countenances the latter had ever seen. Something in Scott's appearance seemed to surprise him, for he stared impudently without speaking. After silently studying the face before him for an instant, Scott inquired for Mr. Hobson. He is in, sir, but he is engaged at present with a client, said the boy, in tones which closely resemble Hobson's. I will take in your card, sir. The boy disappeared with the card into an adjoining room, returning a moment later with the most obsequious manners, and the announcement that Mr. Hobson would be at liberty in a few moments. Scott rightly judged that this ceremony was merely enacted for effect, and contented himself with looking about the small, poorly furnished room, while the office boy opposite him regarded him with an undisguised curiosity, which betrayed that this client, if such he could be regarded, differed greatly from the usual class. Young and untaught, though he were, he had learned to read the faces about him, and that of his employer was to him as an open book, and the expression which flashed into Hobson's eyes, as they fell upon Scott's card, indicated plainly to the office boy that in this instance the usual conditions were reversed, and the attorney stood in fear of his visitor. A few moments later the door of the next room opened noiselessly, and Hobson, attired in a red dressing-gown and wearing his most ingratiating smile, silently beckoned Scott to enter. With a quick glance the latter took in every detail of the second apartment. It was somewhat larger than the first, but the furnishing was meager and shabby in the extreme, and with the exception of a small set of shelves containing a few dilapidated volumes, there were no visible signs of an attorney's office. Hobson did not speak until he had carefully closed the door, then he said, in low tones. As our conversation is likely to be of a confidential nature, you would perhaps desire greater privacy than can be secured here, step this way. He opened the door into a room so dark and so thick with stale tobacco smoke that at first Scott could discern nothing clearly. My den, said Hobson, was a magnificent flourish, and Scott stepped within, feeling, he afterwards said, as though he were being ushered by mephestropheles into the infernal regions. And this impression was not lessened by the first objects which he was able to distinguish, a pair of skulls grinning at him through the smoky atmosphere. As his eyes became accustomed to the dim light, he noted that the room was extremely small, with only one window, which opened upon the blank wall of an adjoining building, and with no furniture, saved an enormous, high-top desk and two chairs. One of the latter, Hobson placed near the window for his visitor, and then busied himself for a moment at the desk, in hastily concealing what to Scott looked like some paraphernalia of the Black Arts. Upon the top of the desk were the two skulls which had first attracted Scott's attention, in which he now regarded rather curiously, Hobson, following his glance, said by way of explanation. Rather peculiar ornaments I dare say you consider those, Mr. Scott, but I am greatly interested in phrenology, and devote much of my leisure time to its study. It is not only amusing, you know, but it is of great assistance in reading and understanding my fellow men, and enables me to adapt myself to my clients, so to speak. Having satisfactorily arranged his belongings, Hobson locked the door, and seating himself behind his desk, appeared ready for business. Well, my young friend, he began, I rather expected you, for I flatter myself that I understand enough of human nature to know that there are very few who will pass by an opportunity of learning something for the advancement of their own interest or the betterment of their own condition in life. That may be perfectly natural, Scott replied, but you flatter yourself altogether too much, if you think that I have come here with any expectation that you can advance my interest or better my condition. That remains to be seen, much also depends upon yourself, for I take it that a young man of your caliber is not without ambition. Hobson paused, regarding his visitor with sharp scrutiny, but receiving no reply continued, I might add, that to a young man with ambitious designs such as yours I would probably be able to render great assistance. I am not aware of any unusual ambition on my part. Oh no, nothing unusual, you simply had no intention of remaining humane wearing secretary any longer than was necessary. That was perfectly natural, perfectly laudable, my young friend, and I admire the shrewness and foresight with which you set about to accomplish your designs. At the same time, I believe I am in a position to give you just the information and advice you need in order to ensure your success. Both men had the same object in view, each wished to ascertain what the other knew concerning himself. Scott, unable to determine whether Hobson had spoken at random, or with an inkling of the facts, answered Coley. I do not know to what you refer, or on what grounds you base the inference which you seem to have drawn. No, then you will allow me to remark, Mr. Scott, that such familiarity as yours with a portion of humane wearing's private correspondence extending back over a period of fifteen or more years, taking into consideration the facts that you cannot be much more than twenty-five years of age, and have only been about two years in Mr. Mainwearing's employ, would indicate that you had sought to acquaint yourself with some facts connected with your employer's early life, with the express purpose of using the same to your own advantage. You must see the inconsistency of such a supposition when you consider that I have been in possession of these facts for some time, it is unnecessary to state how long, and have made no use of them whatever. Possibly, said Hobson, with emphasis, your knowledge of the facts may not have been definite enough to warrant your use of them. His voice and manner unconsciously portrayed the importance which he attached to Scott's reply. The latter detected this, and answered evasively. It is sufficiently definite for my own personal satisfaction in any event. Hobson shook his head. It is useless to evade the point. You had an object in looking up that correspondence. You intended to make a good thing out of the facts you got hold of, and if your information is sufficiently complete, you can make a good thing out of them yet. If I have not attempted anything of that kind in the past, would I be likely to try it at this late day? Scott asked, with the air of one who is open to any available suggestion. Hobson at once assumed a confidential manner, and moving a little nearer to his visitor, replied in a low tone. Look here, Mr. Scott. That's just why I wanted to meet you. You'll see, I knew more about you than you think. I've taken an unusual interest in you too, and seeing the little game you were playing, and knowing that I held the trump card myself, I naturally would like to take a hand and help you out at the same time. Now the point is just this, Mr. Scott. What do you really know concerning the transaction referred to in that correspondence? I suppose you are familiar with all the letters that passed on those sides? Perfectly so. Certainly, but you will acknowledge, Mr. Scott, that those letters were expressed in very guarded terms, and with the exception of possibly one or two, gave no hint of the nature of that transaction. Remember, he added impressively, I have an exact copy of the correspondence on both sides, and no one could ever assume any statement or admissions that were not there. I presume that, of course, said Scott, calmly. Now, my young friend, let us get down to the actual knowledge which you have of the facts. You are, I suppose, aware that there was a missing will involved in the case? I am, and that one or two of your letters purported to show that the missing will was destroyed by humane wearing. Did I make any such allegation? Not directly, but your allusions and references would be clear to anyone having a knowledge of the English statutes. Hobson started and inquired quickly. Are you familiar with English law? I made myself familiar with your citations and references in this case. I see. You have indeed made a study of the case. Well, Mr. Scott, permit me to say that I accused humane wearing of nothing which he had not previously confessed to me himself. Have you any knowledge concerning that will, its terms or conditions, of the names of the testitor or beneficiaries? There was nothing in the correspondence to give any clue to those particulars. I could only gather that humane wearing had defrauded others and enriched himself by destroying this will. Hobson looked relieved. Without doubt he did, but allow me to call your attention to one point, Mr. Scott. You see how little actual knowledge you have of this affair. There are others, Mrs. Lagrange, for instance, and the mysterious individual whom she heard conversing with Mr. Main wearing on the night of the murder, all of whom know as much or more than you, and while this meager knowledge of the case might perhaps have been sufficient to bring a bear upon main wearing himself personally. It would have little or no weight with those with whom we would now have to deal. You know nothing of the terms of the will or of the persons named as beneficiaries, whom consequently humane wearing defrauded. You have no proof that he destroyed the will. In fact, my dear young friend, you could produce no proof that such a document ever existed at all. Do I understand you, then, that those letters, Mr. Main wearings included, would not be regarded as proof? Scott asked, with well-famed surprise. Not of themselves with these people, I know them too well. Hubson took his head decidedly, then continued in auricular tones. Remember, I am only speaking of your chances with them. Main wearings letters were very guarded, mine scarcely less so. They would have no weight whatever with men like Ralph Main wearing or William Thornton. They might even charge you with forging the whole thing. The point is just this, Mr. Scott. In order to be able to get anything from these parties, you must have complete data, absolute proof of every statement you are to make. And such data and proofs are in the possession of no one but myself. So you see, I am the only one who can assist you in this matter. And what compensation would you demand for assisting me? We will not put it that way, Mr. Scott. Hubson replied, his small malignant eyes gleaming with delight at the ease with which his prey was falling into his clutches. It is like this, Ralph Main wearing and Thornton are prejudiced against me, and I might not be able to work them as successfully as I could wish. But you and I could work together very smoothly. I could remain invisible as it were and give you the benefit of the information I possess and of my experience and advice, and you could then successfully manipulate the wires which would bring in the two cats for both of us. What do you say, my young friend? Do you think that either Ralph Main wearing or Mr. Thornton would care enough for any secrets you might be able to disclose to pay you hush money? I object to the term of hush money. I am merely trying to get what was do me from you Main wearing, as he never paid me in full his heirs must. Yes, I could work them after they return to England and set up in style on the old Main wearing estate. They would be rather sensitive about the family reputation then. Where are the beneficiaries of that will that was destroyed? Scott suddenly inquired. Hobson looked sharply at him. Dead long ago. Why do you ask? I was thinking that if they or their heirs were living, it would be better to go to them with this information. They would probably pay a good price for it. You're right, they would, Hobson replied approvingly, but they are all dead. Were there no heirs left? None whatever more is the pity. However, I've got a good hold on these English chaps and will make them hand over the sovereigns yet. The contempt which Scott had hitherto concealed as Hobson unfolded his plans was now plainly visible on his face as he rose from his chair. Don't hasten, my young friend, said Hobson eagerly. Sit down, sit down, we have not laid our plans yet. No, nor will we, was the reply. If you think to make a cat's paw of me in any of your dirty, contemptible pieces of work, you are mistaken. If you think that I came here with any intention of listening for one moment to any of your vile propositions, you are mistaken. I came here simply to satisfy myself on one point. My errand is accomplished, and I will remain no longer. Hobson had sprung to his feet, and now faced Scott, barring the way to the door, while fear, anger, defiance, and hate passed in rapid succession across his evil countenance, making his appearance more demon-like than ever. You lie, he exclaimed in a hoarse whisper. I have not given you one word of information. No, Scott interrupted. You have given me no information, and you could give me none, for the reason that I know more concerning this whole affair than you do. I also have knowledge of certain other matters regarding one Richard Hobson, Alias Dick Carroll, and his London adventures. Hobson's face had become a livid hue, and Scott detected a sudden movement of his right hand towards his desk. None of that, he cried, warningly, at the same time springing quickly upon him with two well-aimed blows, one of which knocked a revolver from Hobson's hand, while the other deposited him in a heap upon the floor. While the latter was recovering from the effect of the stunning blow he had received, Scott picked up the revolver, and having examined it, slipped it into his pocket, saying, I will keep this for a while as a souvenir of our interview. It may be needed as evidence later. Hobson crawled to his feet and stood cowering objectively before Scott, rage written on every lineament of his face, but not daring to give it expression. Who in the devil are you anyway? he growled. That is none of your business whatever, Scott replied, seizing him by the collar and dragging him to the door. The only thing for you to do is to unlock that door as expeditiously as possible, asking no questions and making no comments. With trembling fingers the wretch complied, and Scott, still retaining his hold upon his collar, reached the door of the outer room where, with a final shake, he released him. Wait a minute! Hobson whispered eagerly, half paralyzed with fear, while his eyes gleamed with malign hatred. You've got no hold on me by anything I've said, and you've no proof of that carol business, either. Scott looked at him an instant, with silent contempt. You cowardly scoundrel! All I have to say to you at present is, be careful how you interfere with me. I'm only sorry I soiled my hands with you. But I'll do it again if necessary, and the next time you will fare worse. And opening the door he passed quickly through the outer room, conscious of the amazed stare of the office boy, who had overheard his last words. Hobson did not attempt to follow him, but paced up and down his room, trembling with fear and rage combined, and vainly striving to imagine who his visitor might be. At last he sat down to his desk, and began to write rapidly, muttering to himself. I have believe, only that he's too young, that he is some hound over here, trying to send out the whole thing. But he added with an oath. Whoever he is, if he crosses my track, he'll be likely to follow Hugh Mainwearing before long, that's all. End of Chapter 11 Chapter 12 of that Mainwearing Affair This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org That Mainwearing Affair by A. Maynard Barber Chapter 12 X-Rays On the morning following Scott's interview with Hobson, he awoke at an early hour, vaguely conscious of some disturbing influence, though unable to tell what had awakened him. He lay for a moment recalling the events of the preceding day, then suddenly remembered that this was the day fixed for the funeral of Hugh Mainwearing. None of the servants were a stir about the house, but Scott soon became conscious of the sound of stealthy movements and subdued voices coming through the open window, and rising, he looked out. At first he could see nothing unusual. It was just sunrise, and the river at a little distance shimmering in the golden light held him in trance by its beauty. Then a slight rustling in the shrubbery near the lake attracted his attention. The golden shafts of sunlight had not yet reached that small body of water, and it lay smooth and unbroken as a surface of a mirror, so clear at that hour that one could easily look into its steps. Suddenly a light boat shot out from the side nearest the grove, breaking the smooth surface into a thousand rippling waves of light. In the boat were two men, one of whom Scott instantly recognized as the detective. The other, who was rowing and had his back towards the house, seemed to be a stranger. Someone concealed in the shrubbery called to the boatman, whereupon they rode across in that direction, stopping a few yards from shore. Here they rested a few moments till the surface was again smooth. When both men having carefully peered into the depths of the little lake, the detective proceeded to let down a drag into the water. By George, Scott ejaculated. The sly old fox is improving the opportunity, while everyone is asleep, to drag the lake in search of whatever the coachman threw in there. All right, my dear sir, go ahead. But I'm somewhat interested in this affair myself, and I don't intend that you shall monopolize all the facts in the case. Keeping an eye on the boat, he dressed quickly, and letting himself out at the front entrance, he hastened down the walk through the grove to the edge of the lake, keeping himself concealed among the trees. The boat was moving slowly back and forth, and was now in such a position that Scott could see the face of the man rowing, who proved to be, as he had thought, a stranger. On the other side, seated under the flowering shrubs and trees bordering the lake, was Joe, the stable boy, watching proceedings with intense interest. With a smile, the young secretary followed his example, seating himself at the foot of an ancient elm, whose branches drooped nearly to the ground. All right, Mr. Detective, he said, I can stay as long as you. If you fail to make a success of your work this morning, no one will be the wiser. But in case you find anything, I propose to know something about it myself. The sun was now shining brightly, but the hour was yet so early that there was little danger of anyone else appearing on the scene, especially as it was Sunday morning. For nearly an hour Mr. Merrick and his companion rode slowly back and forth in constantly widening circles, meeting no success and saying little. Suddenly, while Scott was facing the face of the stranger, wondering who he might be, he heard a low exclamation, and saw that the drake had fastened itself upon some object at the bottom of the lake. He watched eagerly as they drew it to the surface, and could scarcely restrain a cry of astonishment as he saw what it was. But before either of the men could secure it, it had slipped and fallen again into the water. With language more forcible than elegant, the drake was again lowered, and the boat once more began its slow trailing. This time they had not so long to wait for success. The drake was brought to the surface, but carrying in its clutches an entirely different object, and one which the young secretary was totally unfamiliar, a somewhat rusty revolver. Mr. Merrick's back was now towards Scott, but the latter saw him take something from his pocket, which he seemed to compare with the revolver, at the same time remarking to the stranger, who was watching with an appearance of great interest. A pretty good find, Jim, pretty good. However, we'll have another try for that box, whatever it is. It may amount to something or it may not, but it will do no harm to make a trial. Having let down the drake once more, he glanced at the house, then at his watch, saying, No signs of anyone a stir, we're all right for another hour yet. After a few more turns Scott saw them suddenly pulling in the ropes, and once more the box appeared, rusty and covered with slime but still familiar. He at once sprang to his feet, and soldiered carelessly down the walk, humming a tune and watching the occupants of the boat with an air of mild curiosity. The stranger was the first to see him, and with an expression of evident disgust gave Merrick warning of his approach. If the detective felt any annoyance he did not betray it as he turned, and nodded to Scott in the most nonchalant manner possible, as though dragging the lake were an everyday occurrence. You've been fishing, I see, said Scott pleasantly. How did you make out? Well, I've made this find which you see here, answered Mr. Merrick, as the boat headed for shore. I don't know yet what it is, but it has not lain long in the water, and it may be worth looking into. Scott made no reply, until the detective had sprung ashore. Then, as the latter proceeded to examine the box, leaving his companion to take care of the boat and drag, he said in a low tone. That is likely to prove an important discovery, Mr. Merrick. You are familiar with it, then? queried the latter. I have seen it in Mr. Mainwaring's safe. That was the box in which he kept the old jewels that were stolen on the night of the murder. Mr. Merrick whistled softly, and studied the box anew. Well, there are no jewels in it now, but we will open it. There is no one up yet to let us into the house, so suppose we go to the stables. We'll be safe there from intrusion. They proceeded to the stables, and arriving there, Scott was puzzled to see Merrick's companion at work, and evidently perfectly at home. We're going to use your room awhile, Matthews, said Merrick carelessly. Then, noting the surprise on Scott's face, he added, This is Matthews, the new coachman, Mr. Scott. I thought you knew of his coming. At your servicer, said Matthews respectfully, lifting his cap in response to Scott's greeting, while the latter inquired, as he and the detective passed upstairs together. When did he come? Yesterday afternoon. He applied for the position, and as he happened to be an acquaintance of mine, Mr. Mainwaring hired him upon my recommendation. Now, as he locked the door of the room they had entered, we will open this box as quickly as possible. I suppose there is no key to be found, and if there were, the lock is too rusty to work. With the aid of a file and chisel, the box was soon opened. The satin linings were somewhat water-soaked and discolored, and the box appeared to be empty, but on opening an inner compartment there were exposed to view a pair of oddly shaped keys and a blood-stained handkerchief. The latter firmly knotted, as though it had been used to bandage a wound of some kind. Ah! said the detective, with peculiar emphasis. Examining the handkerchief, which was a fine linen, with the initials H.M. embroidered in one corner. Did Mr. Mainwaring carry a handkerchief of that style? Yes, he carried that, or one precisely like it, the last day of his life. Very good! was the only reply. As the detective carefully folded and pocketed the article, with an air that indicated that he wished to say no more about it. And these keys, do you recognize them? They were Mr. Mainwaring's private keys to his library and the southern hall. The ones the valet said were missing? The same. Mr. Mainwaring, after studying them curiously for a moment, consigned them to his pocket also, and then began a careful inspection of the interior of the box. Scott watched him in silence, thinking meanwhile of the old document which he had found hidden away in its depths, and inwardly rejoicing that it had not been left to be discovered by the detective. Nothing in Mr. Mainwaring's manner or expression betrayed the nature of his thoughts, and so long as he chose to remain silent, Scott refrained from questioning him. At length he closed the box, saying indifferently, Well, I don't know, as there is any reason why I should detain you any longer, Mr. Scott. We have satisfied ourselves as to the contents of the box, and you have identified the articles. For the present, however, I would prefer that you say nothing of this. Certainly, Mr. Merrick, the discovery whatever its import is your secret, and I shall make no mention of it whatever. I don't know that it is of any special importance, said the detective carelessly, as they prepare to descend the stairs, but it only confirms the opinion that I have had all along. Don't you think that this tends to show that the murder and robbery were connected, notwithstanding Mr. Whitney's theories to the contrary, Scott inquired, as they were about to separate? Possibly, replied the other gravely, then added with a smile. Mr. Whitney has his own preconceived ideas of the case, and tries to adapt the circumstances to suit them, when, in reality, one must first ascertain whatever facts are available and adjust his theories accordingly. They parted company at the door of the stables, but Scott had not reached the house when the detective, with a peculiar smile, returned to the room upstairs, and once more opening the box, drew forth from underneath the satin linings a folded paper, yellow with age, and covered with closely written lines, which he read with great interest, after which he remained absorbed in thought, until aroused by the entrance of his friend, the coachman. Several hours later, Scott stood alone beside the casket of the murdered man. The head had been turned slightly to one side, and a spray of white blossoms, dropped with seeming carelessness within the casket, concealed all traces of the ghastly wound, their snowy petals scarcely wider than the marble features of the dead. It lacked more than an hour of the time set for the funeral. None of the few invited guests would arrive for some time yet. The gentlemen of the house were still in the hands of their valets, and the ladies engrossed with the details of their elegant mourning costumes. Scott, knowing he would be secure from interruption, had chosen this opportunity to take his farewell look at the face of his employer, desiring to be alone with his own thoughts beside the dead. With strangely commingled emotions he gazed upon the face, so familiar, and yet upon which the death angel had already traced many unfamiliar lines. And as he realized the utter loneliness of the rich man, both in life and in death, a wave of intense pity swept across heart and brain, well-nigh obliterating all sense of personal wrong and injury. Unhappy man, he murmured, unloved in life, unmoored in death. Not one of those whom you sought to enrich. We'll look upon you today, with one half the sorrow or the pity with which I do, whom you have wronged and defrauded from the day of my birth. But I forgive you the wrong you have done me. It was slight, compared with the far greater wrong you did another, your brother, your only brother. A wrong which no sums of money, however vast, could ever repair. What would I not give if I could once have stood by his side, even as I stand by yours today? And looked once upon his face. The face of your brother, of the father whom, because of your guilt, I have never seen or known, of whom I have not even a memory. Living, I could never have forgiven you. But here, today, in pity for your loveless life and out of the great love I bear that father, in his faraway ocean grave, in his name and in my own, I forgive you, his brother, even that wrong. As Scott left the room he passed Mr. Whitney in the hall, who, seeing in his face traces of recent emotion, looked after him with great surprise. That young man is a mystery, he soliloquized, a mystery I confess I cannot understand him. A little later the master of Fair Oaks passed for the last time down the winding oak-lined avenue, followed by the guests of the place and by a small concourse of friends, whose sorrow, though unexpressed by outward signs of mourning, was in reality the more sincere. Mrs. Lagrange, who as housekeeper had remained at Fair Oaks, seemed as the last carriage disappeared from view to be on the verge of collapse from nervous frustration. No one knew the mental excitement or the terrible nervous strain which she had undergone during these last few days. Many at the funeral had noticed her extreme pallor, but no one dreamed of the tremendous will-power by which she had maintained her customary, haughty bearing. When all had gone she rose and attempted to go to her room, but in the hall she staggered helplessly and with a low moan sank unconscious to the floor. The screams of the chambermaid who had seen her fall summoned to her assistance the other servants who carried her to her room where she slowly regained consciousness, opening her eyes with an expression of terror, then closing them again with a shudder. Suddenly she seemed to recall her surroundings, with a great effort she rallied and dismissed the servants, with the exception of the chambermaid, saying, It was nothing, only a little faintness caused by the heat. The room was insufferably close. Say nothing of this to the others when they return. With Cady's assistance she exchanged her heavy dress for a light wrapper of creamy silk, and soon seemed herself again, except for her unusual pallor. That will do, Cady, I shall not need you further. By the way, did Walter go with the others or did he remain at home? Mr. Walter is in his room, ma'am, and I heard Hardy say that he was packing up his clothes and things. Mrs. Lagrange betrayed no surprise, no emotion of any kind. Say to him that I would like to see him in my room at once. The girl disappeared, leaving Mrs. Lagrange to her own reflections, which seemed anything but pleasant. The look of terror returned to her face. She clinched her hands until the jewels cut deeply into the white fingers. Then, springing to her feet, she paced the room wildly until she heard the footsteps of her son approaching, when she instantly assumed her usual composure. Walter Lagrange had left Fair Oaks immediately at the close of the inquest, and had not returned except to be present at the funeral, and even there his silent appearance had caused general remark. Very little love had ever existed between mother and son, for neither had a nature capable of deep affection, but never until now had there been any open rupture between them. Though closely resembling each other, he lacked her ability to plan and execute, and had his or two been content to follow her counsels. But as he now entered his mother's room, a glance revealed to her that her authority and influence over him were past. You sent for me, I believe. What do you want? He asked, as she looked at him without speaking. Do you consider your conduct becoming towards a mother who is risking everything for you and your interests? Oh, my interests be hanged, he explained petulantly. I don't see that you've accomplished much for my interests with all your scheming. A week ago I could hold up my head with any of the fellows. I was supposed to be a relative of few main wearings with good prospects, and that I would come in for a good round sum whenever the old fellow made his will, just as I did. Now that's gone, and everything's gone. I haven't even a name left. Walter Lagrange, what do you mean? Do you dare insinuate to your own mother? Why don't you call me Walter Mainwearing? He sneered. As to insinuations, I have to hear plenty of him. Last night I was black-bold at one of the clubs where my name had been presented for membership, and a lot of the fellows have cut me dead. Walter, listen to me. You are Hugh Mainwearing's son, and I was his wife. I will yet compel people to recognize us as such, but you must tell me one thing, he demanded interrupting her. If I was Hugh Mainwearing's son, why have I not borne his name? Why did he not recognize me as such? I'll claim no man for my father, who would not acknowledge me as his son. Then, before she could reply, he added, if you were the wife of Hugh Mainwearing, what was the meaning of your proposal of marriage to him, less than three months ago? She grew deftly pale, but he, seeming to enjoy the situation, repeated sneeringly. Less than three months ago, the night on which he gave you the necklace which you commissioned me to sell the other day. You urged your suit with a vengeance, too. I remember, for you threatened to ruin him if he did not come to your terms. I only laughed, then, for I thought it was another scheme of yours to get a tighter hold on the old man's purse-strings. It's nothing to me what your object was, but in view of the fact that I happened to overhear that little episode, it might be just as well not to try to tell me that I am Hugh Mainwearing's son. You will naturally see that I am not likely to be interested in helping carry out that little farce. Still controlling herself by a tremendous willpower, the wretched woman made one more desperate effort. In low tones, she replied. You show your base in gratitude by thus insulting your mother, and running the risk of betraying her to listening servants by your talk. Of course this is all a farce, as you say, but it must be carried through. You and I were distantly related to Hugh Mainwearing. But what chance would we have against these people with no more of a claim than ours? I am compelled to assert that I was his wife, and that you are his son, in order to win any recognition in the eyes of the law. For an instant her son regarded her with an expression of mingled surprise and incredulity. Then the sneer returned, and turning to leave the room, he answered carelessly. You can tell your little story to other people, and when you have won a fortune on it, why I'll be around for my share, as whatever my doubts and other directions, I have not the slightest doubt that you are my mother, and therefore bound to support me, but for the present if you please, I'll go by the old name of LaGrange. It's a name that suits me very well yet, even though, and a strange look flashed at her from his dark eyes, even though it may be only a borrowed one, and the door closed for the last time between mother and son. A low moan escaped from the lips of the unhappy woman. My son, the only living being of my flesh and blood, even he has turned against me. Too proud to recall him, however, she sank exhausted upon a couch, and burrowing her face in her hands wept bitterly for the first and only time in her remembrance. Meanwhile the guests of Faroaks having returned from the funeral had assembled in the large library below, and were engaged in animated discussion regarding the disposition to be made of the property. Ralph Mainwearing and Mr. Thornton, with pencils and paper, were computing stocks and bonds, and estimating how much of a margin would be left after the purchase of the old Mainwearing estate, which they had heard could be bought at a comparatively low figure, the present owner being somewhat embarrassed financially, while Mrs. Mainwearing was making a careful inventory of the furniture, paintings, and brick-a-brack at Faroaks, with a view of ascertaining whether there were any articles which she would care to retain for their future home. Mr. Whitney, who as a bachelor and intimate friend of Hugh Mainwearing's, as well as his legal advisor, had perhaps more than anyone else enjoyed the hospitality of his beautiful suburban home, found the conversation extremely distasteful, and having furnished whatever information was desired, excused himself and left the room. As he sauntered out upon the broad veranda he was surprised to see Miss Carleton, who had made her escape through one of the long windows, and who looked decidedly bored. It's perfectly beastly, don't you think so? she exclaimed, looking frankly into his face as if sure of sympathy. She had so nearly expressed his own feelings that he flushed slightly as he replied with a smile. It looks rather peculiar to an outsider, but I suppose it is only natural. It is natural for them, she replied with emphasis. I did not intend to be personal. I meant human nature generally. I have too much respect for human nature generally, to believe it as selfish and as mercenary as that. I have learned one lesson, however. I will never leave my property to my friends, hoping by so doing to be held in loving remembrance. It would be the surest way to make them forget me. As your experience of the last few days made you so cynical as that, the attorney inquired, again smiling into the bright fair face beside him. It is not cynicism, Mr. Whitney. It is the plain truth. I have always known that the main wearings as a family were mercenary, but I confess I had no idea, until within the last few days, that they were capable of such beastly ingratitude. Do you mean to say that it is a trait of the entire main wearing family, or only of this branch in particular? He inquired, somewhat amused. All the main wearings are noted for their worship of the Golden God, she replied, with a low musical laugh. But Ralph's main wearing's love of money is almost a monomania. He has planned and schemed to get that all piece of English property into his hands for years and years. In fact, ever since it was willed to Hugh main wearing, at the time his brother was disinherited, and the name he gave to his son was the first stone laid to pave the way to this coveted fortune. I see. Pardon me, Miss Carlton, but you just now alluded to Hugh main wearing's brother. I remember some mention was made at the inquest of a brother, but I supposed it must be an error. Had he really a brother? Ah, yes, an elder brother, and he must have been less avaricious than the rest of them, as he sacrificed a fortune for love. It was quite a little romance, you know. He and his brother Hugh were both in love with the same lady. The father did not approve, and gave his sons their choice. Between love without a fortune or a fortune without love, Hugh main wearing chose the latter. But Harold the elder was true to his lady, and was consequently disinherited. Poor Hugh main wearing, commented the attorney. He made his choice for life of a fortune without love, and a sad life it was, too. Miss Carlton glanced up with quick sympathy. Yes, it seemed to me his life must have been rather lonely and sad. There was a pause, and she added, and did he never speak to you, his intimate friend, of his brother? Never. Strange. Perhaps he was like the others, after all, and thought of nothing but money. No, I cannot believe that of Hugh main wearing. The attorney replied loyally, then added, what became of the brother, Miss Carlton? He was lost at sea. He had started for Africa, to make a fortune for himself, but the boat was wrecked in a storm, and everyone on board was lost. And his family, one of them, queried the attorney. He had no children, and no one ever knew what became of his wife. The main wearings are a very prosaic family. That is the only bit of romance in their history. But I always enjoyed that, except that it ended so sadly. And I always admired Harold main wearing. I would like to meet such a man as he. Why, I should say, there was a romance in progress at present in the main wearing family, said Mr. Whitney smiling. What, Hugh and Edith Thornton? She laughed again. A wonderfully musical rippling laugh, the attorney thought. Oh, there is no more romance there than there is in that marble. And she pointed to a beautiful cupid and psyche embracing each other in the center of a mass of brilliant geraniums and colias. They have been engaged ever since their days of long dresses and high chairs, another of Ralph main wearing schemes. You know Edith is Hugh's cousin, an only child, and her father is immensely rich. Oh, no, if I ever have a romance of my own, it must spring right up spontaneously and grow in spite of all opposition. Not one of the sort that has been fostered in a hot house until its life is nearly stifled out of it. Mr. Whitney glanced in admiration at the fair English face beside him, glowing with physical and intellectual beauty. Then a moment later, as they passed down the long haul in response to the summons to dinner, and he caught a glimpse in one of the mirrors of a tolerably good-looking professional gentleman of nearly forty, he wondered why he suddenly felt so much older than ever before. Miss Carlton was seated beside him at dinner, while nearly opposite was Harry Scott, conversing with young main wearing. He was quietly but elegantly dressed, and his fine physique and noble bearing, as well as the striking beauty of his dark face, seemed more marked than usual. Mr. Whitney watched the young secretary narrowly. Something in the play of his features seemed half familiar, and yet gave him a strange sense of pain, but why he could not determine. Mr. Whitney, said Miss Carlton in the low tone, did you ever observe a resemblance at times between Mr. Scott and your friend, Mr. Hugh, main wearing? The attorney looked up in surprise. Why no, Miss Carlton, I would not think a resemblance possible. Mr. Scott is much darker, and his features are altogether different. Oh, I do not refer to any resemblance of feature or complexion, but his manner, and sometimes his expression, strikes me as very similar. I suppose because he was associated with him so much, you know. Mr. Whitney's eyes again wandered to the face of the secretary. He started involuntarily. By George, he ejaculated mentally, Hugh main wearing, as sure as I live, not a feature like him, but the same expression. What does it mean? Can it be simply from association? In a state of great bewilderment, he endeavored still to entertain Miss Carlton, though it is to be feared she found him rather absent-minded. He was passing out of the dining-room in a brown study when someone touched his arm. He turned and saw Merrick. When you are at liberty, come out to the grove, the latter said briefly, and was gone before the attorney could more than bow in reply.