by Robert Barr
CHAPTER IX.
"Jane Morton!" cried Speed; "who is she?"
"She is, as you may remember, the girl who carried the coffee from Mrs.Brenton to monsieur."
"And are you sure she is the criminal?"
The great detective did not answer; he merely gave an expressive littleFrench gesture, as though the question was not worth commenting upon.
"Why, what was her motive?" asked Speed.
For the first time in their acquaintance a shade of perplexity seemed tocome over the enthusiastic face of the volatile Frenchman.
"You are what you call smart, you Chicago people," he said, "and youhave in a moment struck the only point on which we are at a loss."
"My dear sir," returned Speed, "that is _the_ point in the case. Motiveis the first thing to look for, it seems to me. You said as muchyourself. If you haven't succeeded in finding what motive Jane Mortonhad for poisoning her employer, it appears to me that very little hasbeen accomplished."
"Ah, you say that before you know the particulars. I am certain we shallfind the motive. What I know now is that Jane Morton is the one who putthe poison in his cup of coffee."
"It would take a good deal of nerve to do that with twenty-six peoplearound the table. You forget, my dear sir, that she had to pass thewhole length of the table, after taking the cup, before giving it to Mr.Brenton."
"Half of the people had their backs to her, and the other half, I canassure you, were not looking at her. If the poison was ready, it was avery easy thing to slip it into a cup of coffee. There was ample time todo it, and that is how it was done."
"May I ask how you arrived at that conclusion?"
"Certainly, certainly, my dear sir. My detectives report that each oneof the twenty-seven people they had to follow were shadowed night andday. But only two of them acted suspiciously. These two were Jane Mortonand Stephen Roland. Stephen Roland's anxiety is accounted for by thefact that he is evidently in love with Mrs. Brenton. But the changein Jane Morton has been something terrible. She is suffering from theseverest pangs of ineffectual remorse. She has not gone out again toservice, but occupies a room in one of the poorer quarters of thecity--a room that she never leaves except at night. Her whole actionsshow that she is afraid of the police--afraid of being tracked for hercrime. She buys a newspaper every night, locks and bars the door onentering her room, and, with tears streaming from her eyes, reads everyword of the criminal news. One night, when she went out to buy herpaper, and what food she needed for the next day, she came unexpectedlyupon a policeman at the corner. The man was not looking at her at all,nor for her, but she fled, running like a deer, doubling and turningthrough alleys and back streets until by a very roundabout road shereached her own room. There she locked herself in, and remainedwithout food all next day rather than go out again. She flung herselfterror-stricken on the bed, after her room door was bolted, and cried,'Oh, why did I do it? why did I do it? I shall certainly be found out.If Mrs. Brenton is acquitted, they will be after me next day. I did itto make up to John what he had suffered, and yet if John knew it, hewould never speak to me again.'"
"Oh, why did I do it?"]
"Who is John?" asked Speed.
"Ah, that," said the detective, "I do not know. When we find out whoJohn is, then we shall find the motive for the crime."
"In that case, if I were you, I should try to find John as quickly aspossible."
"Yes, my dear sir, that is exactly what should be done, and my detectiveis now endeavouring to discover the identity of John. He will possiblysucceed in a few days. But there is another way of finding out who Johnis, and perhaps in that you can help me."
"What other way?"
"There is one man who undoubtedly knows who John is, and that is Mr.Brenton. Now, I thought that perhaps you, who know Brenton better than Ido, would not mind asking him who John is."
"My dear sir," said Speed, "Brenton is no particular friend of mine,and I only know him well enough to feel that if there is anycross-examination to be done, I should prefer somebody else to do it."
"Why, you are not afraid of him, are you?" asked the detective.
"Afraid of him? Certainly not, but I tell you that Brenton is just alittle touchy and apt to take offence. I have found him so on severaloccasions. Now, as you have practically taken charge of this case, whydon't you go and see him?"
"I suppose I shall have to do that," said the Frenchman, "if you willnot undertake it."
"No, I will not."
"You have no objection, have you, to going with me?"
"It is better for you to see Brenton alone. I do not think he would careto be cross-examined before witnesses, you know."
"Ah, then, good-bye; I shall find out from Mr. Brenton who John is."
"I am sure I wish you luck," replied Speed, as Lecocq took hisdeparture.
Lecocq found Brenton and Ferris together. The cynical spirit seemed tohave been rather sceptical about the accounts given him of the influencethat Speed and Brenton, combined, had had upon the Chicago newspaperman. Yet he was interested in the case, and although he still maintainedthat no practical good would result, even if a channel of communicationcould be opened between the two states of existence, he had listenedwith his customary respect to what Brenton had to say.
"Ah," said Brenton, when he saw the Frenchman, "have you any news forme?"
"Yes, I have. I have news that I will exchange, but meanwhile I wantsome news from you."
"I have none to give you," answered Brenton.
"If you have not, will you undertake to answer any questions I shall askyou, and not take offence if the questions seem to be personal ones?"
"Certainly," said Brenton; "I shall be glad to answer anything as longas it has a bearing on the case."
"Very well, then, it has a very distinct bearing on the case. Do youremember the girl Jane Morton?"
"I remember her, of course, as one of the servants in our employ. I knowvery little about her, though."
"That is just what I wish to find out. Do you know _anything_ about her?"
"No; she had been in our employ but a fortnight, I think, or perhaps itwas a month. My wife attended to these details, of course. I knew thegirl was there, that is all."
The Frenchman looked very dubious as Brenton said this, while the latterrather bridled up.
"You evidently do not believe me?" he cried.
Once more the detective gave his customary gesture, and said--
"Ah, pardon me, you are entirely mistaken. I have this to acquaint youwith. Jane Morton is the one who murdered you. She did it, she says,partly for the sake of John, whoever he is, and partly out of revenge.Now, of course, you are the only man who can give me information as tothe motive. That girl certainly had a motive, and I should like to findout what the motive was."
Brenton meditated for a few moments, and then suddenly brightened up.
"I remember, now, an incident which happened a week of two beforeChristmas, which may have a bearing on the case. One night I heard--orthought I heard--a movement downstairs, when I supposed everybody hadretired. I took a revolver in my hand, and went cautiously down thestairs. Of course I had no light, because, if there was a burglar, I didnot wish to make myself too conspicuous a mark. As I went along the hallleading to the kitchen, I saw there was a light inside; but as soon asthey heard me coming the light was put out. When I reached the kitchen,I noticed a man trying to escape through the door that led to thecoalshed. I fired at him twice, and he sank to the floor with a groan. Ithought I had bagged a burglar sure, but it turned out to be nothing ofthe kind. He was merely a young man who had been rather late visitingone of the girls. I suspect now the girl he came to see was JaneMorton. As it was, the noise brought the two girls there, and I neverinvestigated the matter or tried to find out which one it was that hehad been visiting. They were both terror-stricken, and the young manhimself was in a state of great fear. He thought for a moment that hehad been killed. However, he was only shot in the leg, and I sent him
tothe house of a physician who keeps such patients as do not wish to go tothe hospital. I did not care to have him go to the hospital, because Iwas afraid the newspapers would get hold of the incident, and makea sensation of it. The whole thing was accidental; the young fellowrealized that, and so, I thought, did the girls; at least, I nevernoticed anything in their behaviour to show the contrary."
"What sort of a looking girl is Jane Morton?" asked Ferris.
"She is a tall brunette, with snapping black eyes."
"Ah, then, I remember her going into the room where you lay," saidFerris, "on Christmas morning. It struck me when she came out that shewas very cool and self-possessed, and not at all surprised."
"All I can say," said Brenton, "is that I never noticed anything in herconduct like resentment at what had happened. I intended to give theyoung fellow a handsome compensation for his injury, but of course whatoccurred on Christmas Eve prevented that: I had really forgotten allabout the circumstance, or I should have told you of it before."
"Then," said Lecocq, "the thing now is perfectly clear. That black-eyedvixen murdered you out of revenge."