Carolyn Wells

“ Mine is not a unique nature, Mr Belknap. Many people like or dislike a stranger at first meeting.”
“But they don’t threaten to kill them.”
Pollard reached the end of his patience. “Mr Belknap,” he said, “I’m tired of having that remark of mine quoted at me. If it had not chanced that Gleason was killed yesterday, that speech would never have been remembered. I do not deny the remark; I do not deny that it was spoken in earnest. But I do deny that I killed Robert Gleason. Now, if you still suspect me, go to work and bring the crime home to me, if not, let up on your insinuations!” ”

“ Manning Pollard?”
“No,” said Lane. “I’m not sure I know who spoke about it first.”
“Well, I’m sure you know, and you’d better tell. Unless you’re shielding somebody yourself. Better speak up, Mr Lane.”
“All right, then, it was Philip Barry. I believe it’s wiser to say so than to conceal it. You can’t suspect him.”
“Why can’t I? I can suspect anybody that can’t prove his innocence. And I’ve been thinking about Mr Barry myself. Isn’t he in love with the heiress?”
“What heiress?”
“Miss Lindsay—half heiress of Mr Gleason’s big fortune.” ”

“ Davenport assented, drily, “but not the detection. You youngsters don’t know what you’re talking about—you’d better shut up.”
“We know a lot,” returned Monroe, unabashed. “Youth is no barrier to knowledge these days. And I hold that the clever detective seeks first the motive. You can’t have a murder without a motive, any more than an omelette without eggs.”
“True, oh, Solomon,” granted the doctor. “But the motive may be known only to the murderer, and not to be discovered by any effort of the investigator.” ”

“ Lane said, “don’t choose because of your faith in one man or the other. Choose by rational deduction from circumstances.”
“That’s just what I want to do,” Phyllis replied. “And here’s how it looks to me. Phil Barry didn’t tell the truth or else Mr Pollard didn’t. Now, Mr Pollard has no reason to prevaricate, and Phil, if guilty, has. Therefore—and yet, I can’t believe Phil shot Mr Gleason.”
“I can,” Millicent exclaimed. “I see it all now. Phil’s madly in love with you, Phyllis—as who isn’t? I don’t know what it is, child, but you seem to set all men wild, and you so demure and sweet! ”

“ You, Mrs Lindsay, want to find your brother’s murderer, but you, Phyllis, and you, Louis, are more interested in whether friends of yours are implicated or not. Isn’t that so, Lane?”
“Yes,” agreed Fred Lane. “But, see here, Pollard, I’m laying aside this personal interest you speak of, and I’m trying to go merely and solely by evidence. Now, I think that the evidence against Phil Barry is pretty positive.”
“Well, I don’t,’” Pollard disagreed with him. “It is, in a way—but, good Lord, man, lots of people may write to a person without intending to kill him.” ”

“ Go on, Mr Barry, what did you learn from or about Miss Hayes?”
“I learned that she was in Mr Gleason’s apartment the afternoon of the murder——”
“She wasn’t!” Louis exclaimed, “She wasn’t!”
“Oh, hush, Louis,” Barry said, contemptuously, “she told me herself she was.”
“Go on,” said Prescott.
“She left Mr Gleason alive and well, when she departed.”
“At what time?”
“She doesn’t remember exactly—it’s the hardest thing in the world to make people assert a time. But I gathered it was not far from six o’clock when she left Gleason’s rooms.” ”

“ But, Mr Wise, is it necessary to tell you such things?”
“It is, Miss Lindsay. I fully believe that you are the innocent cause of this murder. This attaches no blame to you, in any way, but it makes it imperative for me to learn these details. Probably nine crimes out of ten are committed because of a woman—so don’t let it disturb you.”
“Not disturb me!” Phyllis cried; “of course it disturbs me! If there are women so foolishly vain as to enjoy stirring up strife among their admirers, I am not of that sort. I wish I were dead!”
“There, now, Phyllis,” Millicent said, “don’t act like that. ”

“ Ivy gave the number, and Phyllis went at once and told the story to Millicent.
“Oh, do get him!” cried Mrs Lindsay. “I’ve heard of Penny Wise—he’s a wizard! I don’t know anything about his girl assistant—but that doesn’t matter. Penny Wise is great! I’ve often heard of him. He’s frightfully expensive, but they say he never loses a case. But, Phyllis, I never suspected Louis! How could you think I did! But—don’t faint now—I do suspect Phil Barry!”
“It doesn’t matter much whom you suspect to-day, Millicent, it will be somebody else to-morrow! Aren’t you about due to suspect me again?” ”

“ Pollard interrupted, “we don’t want your erudition, but your opinion. You say you know psychology as well as physiology; will you agree that a strong motive for murder might be just that unreasonable dislike—that distaste of seeing a certain person around?”
“No, not a strong motive,” said Davenport, after a short pause for thought. “A slight motive, perhaps, by which I mean a fleeting impulse.”
“No,” persisted Pollard, “an impelling—a compelling motive. Why, there’s Gleason now. I can’t bear that man. ”

“ Next, he left no fingerprints on the telephone or on the revolver, save those of Gleason himself. Was that clever?”
“Oh, Penny, it was! And he made the prints on the telephone with Mr Gleason’s fingers after Mr Gleason was dead! And he did the telephoning himself!”
“Yes; how quick you are, Zizi! That’s exactly what happened, because that’s the only way it could have been. Now, a man clever enough for all that is clever enough for anything. Yet I can’t see how he did it. Nor do I grasp his motive.”
“Jealous of Phyllis?”
“That isn’t enough to account for the crime.” ”

“ Why, be I never so careful in my diagnosis or treatment, a chance deviation from my orders on the part of patient or attendant, a chance draught of wind, or upset nerves—oh, Lord, yes! as the Good Book says, ‘Time and Chance happeneth to us all.’ And no line of work is more precarious than establishing a theory or running down a clew in a murder case. ”

“ Pollard said, seriously. “I don’t know much about real detective work, but it seems to me, if I found a fur collar at the scene of the crime, the owner of that would be the last person I’d look for.”
“You give the collar too much importance, Monroe, and you, Pollard, give it too little,” Lane spoke in his most judicial manner. “I’m no detective myself, but I am a lawyer, and I modestly claim a sort of knowledge of criminal doings. The fur collar is a clew. It must be investigated. It may lead to the truth and it may not.” ”

“ Davenport agreed. “I know lots of women who have all the intent of murder in their hearts, but who never could pull it off.”
“A good thing, too,” Barry observed. “I’d hate to think any woman I know capable of murder! Ugh!” His long, delicate white hand waved away the distasteful idea with a gesture that seemed to dismiss it entirely.
There were not many in the Club lounge, the group of men had it mostly to themselves, and as the afternoon dusk grew deeper and the lights were turned on, several more went away, and finally Fred Lane rose to go. ”

“ The murderer is one of the cleverest men on this planet. For, look. He arranged that letter deliberately, fixed up the Club servant scheme, to get Philip Barry’s signature on a blank sheet of paper. Having that, he later wrote in whatever he chose. His cleverness consisted, at this point, in not overdoing. Had he made the letter a threat of murder, it would have looked false on the face of it, for Barry is not like that. Well, he had this letter ready to plant in Gleason’s desk after he had committed his crime—and he did so. ”

“ Her face was pink, but her voice was calm and her glance at him steady. “I will say, however, that it is for a purpose which no one could disapprove of——”
“Then why not tell?” Millicent exclaimed. “That’s Phyllis all over, Mr Pollard; she’d make a mystery out of nothing! If her purpose is a good one, why keep it so secret? I’ll tell you why; only because Phyllis loves to create a sensation! She loves to be wondered at and thought important.”
“Oh, Millicent, what nonsense!” Phyllis blushed painfully now.
“Let up, Mill,” Louis said; “my sister is not like that. ”

“ I don’t know that he was afraid—of Gleason or anybody else. But I do say that he might have been—there are a hundred reasons why a man may be secretly afraid of another man. Who knows the secrets of his neighbor’s heart? I’m making no claim, educing no theory, but it’s at least a fact that Davenport did speak of fear as a motive. Now, I merely say, if you’re going to suspect him, you may as well use that tip. That’s all.”
Pollard smoked on in silence, and each of the four thought over this new idea.
“It’s shocking, that’s what it is, shocking!” exclaimed Dean Monroe, at last. ”

“ Ivy Hayes knows of a girl detective——”
“Oh, Phyllis, don’t!” begged Pollard. “A private detective is bad enough—but a girl one! Please don’t.”
“But she’s a wonder—Ivy says so.”
“Sister, for goodness’ sake, don’t tell me you know Ivy Hayes!”
“Certainly I do, Louis. If you may know her why can’t I? And I like her, too. And she’ll get this person for me, and I know Millicent will agree——”
“Quite a feminine bunch,” Pollard laughed. “Do you think you and Mrs Lindsay and Miss Hayes and the girl sleuth can succeed where several men have failed?” ”

“ Barry said. “I make my confession, I give myself up—now let the law—if such a thing exists—take its course. And there’s that letter. You know I wrote it, Pollard. You know I must have written it. There’s no other possible theory. You know I left you about six—or a little before. You know I’ve no alibi—and there was time enough for me to go down to the Gleason place and get back for the dinner party.” ”

“ Well, it’s common knowledge that Phil adores you. And we all know my brother did. Now the theory or hypothesis or whatever you call it, that Phil was jealous of Robert and killed him—after sending him that warning letter—is, to my mind the only tenable theory and one that proves in every detail. For, granting Phil Barry is the criminal, the letter is explainable, the stories he told about Mr Pollard are explainable, and the whole thing becomes clear.”
“Millicent,” Phyllis said, looking at her seriously, “you are only too ready to assume the guilt of any one you suspect at the moment. ”

“ Louis is not much on the strong-arm work, but he has desperate determination, and if he went there to get that money—and if Mr Gleason wouldn’t give it to him—let me see—I suppose Gleason must have said that his condition was your acceptance of his suit!”
“I suppose so,” Phyllis agreed. “He knew how I love Louis, and he often tried to get him to persuade me to do various things. Louis is my idol. I’ve always adored him. I really brought him up, for mother died when he was so little. We’re far closer to one another than most brothers and sisters. ”

“ There’s lots about a man’s private life that would contradict the general impression of him.”
“That’s you all over, Phyllis! You never lose a chance to cast a slur on my brother’s memory. I should think you would have a little gratitude to the man who left you a fortune.”
“I have, Millicent. And you must not misconstrue my words as you do. I am anxious, too, to find your brother’s murderer. And if, as Mr Pollard suggests, it may be some Western acquaintance, we must try to find him. And Mr Gleason’s private letters and papers may reveal much.” ”

“ Pollard’s serious, kindly manner carried conviction. “I’d be glad to help you, but in important matters you’d better consult some one of sound judgment and special knowledge. If you don’t care to confide in Lane, ask him for the type of adviser you do need.”
“But, Mr Pollard,” the girl hesitated, “it isn’t a question of special knowledge at all. I just want advice from some man of the world—a man of our set, of our interests. Somebody who knows what to do in a crisis——”
“Please, Miss Phyllis—don’t talk like that! ”

“ While an outsider, a man known to Gleason but not to any of use, could have come and gone at will.”
“He had to reach the Gleason apartment soon after Buddy left,” Phyllis mused, thinking it out. “Well, Manning, I’m convinced of Buddy’s innocence. My boy can’t lie to me! I know him too well. He is worried and anxious about the suspicions that may attach to him, but he’s absolutely innocent of crime, aren’t you, dear?”
And Louis looked into his sister’s face, and quietly replied, “Yes, Phyllis,” and she believed him.
“Now,” she said, “I’m going to free Phil Barry.”
“You!” exclaimed Pollard. ”