V
A SPOT ON THE LAWN
The coroner, on leaving the house, was followed by Mr. Sutherland. Asthe fine figures of the two men appeared on the doorstep, a faint cheerwas heard from the two or three favoured persons who were allowed tolook through the gate. But to this token of welcome neither gentlemanresponded by so much as a look, all their attention being engrossed bythe sight of the solitary figure of Miss Page, who still held her standupon the lawn. Motionless as a statue, but with her eyes fixed upontheir faces, she awaited their approach. When they were near her shethrust one hand from under her cloak, and pointing to the grass at herfeet, said quietly:
"See this?"
They hastened towards her and bent down to examine the spot sheindicated.
"What do you find there?" cried Mr. Sutherland, whose eyesight was notgood.
"Blood," responded the coroner, plucking up a blade of grass andsurveying it closely.
"Blood," echoed Miss Page, with so suggestive a glance that Mr.Sutherland stared at her in amazement, not understanding his ownemotion.
"How were you able to discern a stain so nearly imperceptible?" askedthe coroner.
"Imperceptible? It is the only thing I see in the whole yard," sheretorted, and with a slight bow, which was not without its element ofmockery, she turned toward the gate.
"A most unaccountable girl," commented the doctor. "But she is rightabout these stains. Abel," he called to the man at the gate, "bring abox or barrel here and cover up this spot. I don't want it disturbed bytrampling feet."
Abel started to obey, just as the young girl laid her hand on the gateto open it.
"Won't you help me?" she asked. "The crowd is so great they won't let methrough."
"Won't they?" The words came from without. "Just slip out as I slip in,and you'll find a place made for you."
Not recognising the voice, she hesitated for a moment, but seeing thegate swaying, she pushed against it just as a young man stepped throughthe gap. Necessarily they came face to face.
"Ah, it's you," he muttered, giving her a sharp glance.
"I do not know you," she haughtily declared, and slipped by him withsuch dexterity she was out of the gate before he could respond.
But he only snapped his finger and thumb mockingly at her, and smiledknowingly at Abel, who had lingered to watch the end of this encounter.
"Supple as a willow twig, eh?" he laughed. "Well, I have made whistlesout of willows before now, and hallo! where did you get that?"
He was pointing to a rare flower that hung limp and faded from Abel'sbuttonhole.
"This? Oh, I found it in the house yonder. It was lying on the floor ofthe inner room, almost under Batsy's skirts. Curious sort of flower. Iwonder where she got it?"
The intruder betrayed at once an unaccountable emotion. There was astrange glitter in his light green eyes that made Abel shift ratheruneasily on his feet. "Was that before this pretty minx you have justlet out came in here with Mr. Sutherland?"
"O yes; before anyone had started for the hill at all. Why, what hasthis young lady got to do with a flower dropped by Batsy?"
"She? Nothing. Only--and I have never given you bad advice, Abel--don'tlet that thing hang any longer from your buttonhole. Put it into anenvelope and keep it, and if you don't hear from me again in regard toit, write me out a fool and forget we were ever chums when littleshavers."
The man called Abel smiled, took out the flower, and went to cover upthe grass as Dr. Talbot had requested. The stranger took his place atthe gate, toward which the coroner and Mr. Sutherland were nowadvancing, with an air that showed his great anxiety to speak with them.He was the musician whom we saw secretly entering the last-mentionedgentleman's house after the departure of the servants.
As the coroner paused before him he spoke. "Dr. Talbot," said he,dropping his eyes, which were apt to betray his thoughts too plainly,"you have often promised that you would give me a job if any matter cameup where any nice detective work was wanted. Don't you think the timehas come to remember me?"
"You, Sweetwater? I'm afraid the affair is too deep for an inexperiencedman's first effort. I shall have to send to Boston for an expert.Another time, Sweetwater, when the complications are less serious."
The young fellow, with a face white as milk, was turning away.
"But you'll let me stay around here?" he pleaded, pausing and giving theother an imploring look.
"O yes," answered the good-natured coroner. "Fenton will have workenough for you and half a dozen others. Go and tell him I sent you."
"Thank you," returned the other, his face suddenly losing its aspect ofacute disappointment. "Now I shall see where that flower fell," hemurmured.
Agatha Webb Page 5