CHAPTER XXXIV.
HONEY, NOT WITHOUT STING
She looked so timid and demure, with the blue straw bonnet which framedher sweet face, the red band lettered in gold, "Salvation Army."
Eyes, lifted slowly, of deep, dark blue, and the level brows laid overthem for a foil. Beautiful eyes, we male observers say in our rough,generic fashion, but the finer perception of our sisters discriminatesmore closely. Not the iris alone makes the beauty of eyes. Lashes longand thick, lids of bewitching droop, brows penciled in the bow curve,any of these may be the true feature that starts our exclamation ofdelight. But in Miss Serena Lamb (as the girl gave her name) nearly allthese marks were blended, and they overhung a feature which used to befashionable and is still, when perfect, divine--the rosebud mouth.
She might well be timid in those surroundings--revolvers and handcuffsto right of her, medals and canes to left; shutter-cutters, winches,chisels, diamond drills, skeleton keys, wax molds, jimmies, screws, inthe glass case in front--an elaborate outfit of burglar's tools, thetrophies of McCausland's hunting expeditions, for the inspector'sspecialty was burglary. On one side the portrait of the true Bill Dobbslooked out from the center of a congenial group, and a tiny plush casekept the file made from a watch-spring with which the famous BarneyPease had cut his way to liberty. All this was formidable enough initself, to say nothing of the huge bloodhound that lay half-asleep, withhis jowl on the hearthstone.
"I thought I ought to tell you," said Miss Lamb, modestly, "although itmay not be of importance."
"And yet it may," said the inspector, politely. "We often work from themerest trifles."
"It concerns the fire in Prof. Arnold's house."
"Ah!"
"You know our labors often bring sinners back to the fold and many ofthem insist on unburdening their past misdeeds to us. It is verydistressing to hear, but it seems to ease their consciences."
McCausland mentally registered a great broad mark in her favor. She hadnot begun by asking for the reward.
"One day a young convert of ours came to my house and spent an hour withme. We sung hymns and conversed, and I truly believe he has heard theword. Hosanna! Alleluia!"
McCausland fidgeted a little at these transports, but the sweet face inthe blue bonnet kept him respectful.
"I am young," she hardly looked 18, "but I strove earnestly with himthat night. Moved by the spirit, he told me a guilty story, which I putaside until reading about your case stirred my memory, and I felt induty bound to relate it. Alleluia!"
"Proceed, Miss Lamb."
"The young convert had been in his early days a locksmith and a greatsinner before the world. One day a stranger proposed to him a reward ifhe should enter a certain room and open a safe which it contained. Thetemptation was great and he yielded, for he was poor in the riches ofearth, and knew not then of the treasures of heaven. Alleluia! Praise!
"Weakly he consented to accompany the stranger, and on a certain Sunday,during the early hours of evening, suffered himself to be led into theroom, where he found himself alone with the stranger. It was the name ofthis man and the description he gave me of the room which led meafterward to think that his action might have a connection with yourcase."
"What name?"
"Robert Floyd."
McCausland took a cigar from his pocket and bit off the end.
"And how did he describe the room?"
"A library, he said, with a bird cage before one window and a desk inthe corner."
"And the safe?"
"He could not open it at first, but tried again and again. Somethingalarmed them, however, or so I gathered. For you must know his accentwas very hard to follow and--and"--(Serena blushed)--"he was very muchagitated while he told me. But I gathered that they were interrupted andput off their wicked work."
"I must see this young convert. He may have sinned to good purpose thattime."
"There comes the strange part of it. Since he made the confession I havenot seen him again. He has not come to our meetings, as he used. Perhapshe has fallen back into the evil ways of the worldly minded. Perhaps thewicked ones have punished him."
"The description is certainly similar," said McCausland, shutting hisright eye, so as to fix more keenly on his visitor's face the other,which was the one reputed microscopic in its powers.
"So it seemed to me, reading the papers, which are full of profanesayings, alas! But where sin is there must be the workers in thevineyard."
"I am glad you read them and you did well to come. But--do you know theconvert's name? Without some clew, I fear----"
The young girl hesitated awhile, then answered:
"Aronson!"
McCausland started. It was not a common name.
"A young man, you say? And spoke with an accent?"
"Yes, slightly."
"Can it be Shagarach's man?" said McCausland to himself, reaching forthe city directory. "There was something shady about his record." Thenhe rung a bell.
"Have the criminal docket looked up about four years ago for a caseagainst one Aronson--larceny of an overcoat, I believe," he said to themulatto officer.
"That was all," said Miss Lamb, arising to go.
"One moment," said McCausland, running his forefinger up the directorypage. "Was his first name Saul?"
"I don't remember. I remember very little about him."
"'Saul Aronson, law student.' Let's look farther back," said McCausland,restoring the 1895 volume to the shelf; "'94, '93, '92, '91," he drewout the last. "It would be queer," he said to himself, "if Floyd'sjunior counsel should turn out to be an accomplice."
"Aronson," he read aloud. "Isaac, Jacob, Marks--Saul! 'Saul Aronson,locksmith'!"
The Incendiary: A Story of Mystery Page 34