XVIII FLED!
The days went by, leaving the mystery unsolved. Count Charlier wasreleased from custody, there not being sufficient evidence to hold him.Bates was in jail awaiting the action of the Grand Jury, but it wasrecognized that he was not the murderer of Miss Carrington.
Search for the poisoner had so far been fruitless, and the newspaperswere clamoring for the arrest of somebody. But the Police Detectives wereat their wits' end, and even Fleming Stone was baffled.
For hours, Stone sat thinking over the many peculiar features of thecase. It was not in embarrassment that he felt himself unable as yet totrace the criminal, it was rather with a sensation of curiosity that hewondered what point he had overlooked. There must be some clue, somedefinite indication of what way to look, but so far he had not perceivedit.
So interested was he in the search that he took no note of the passing oftime or the growing impatience of those who watched him.
"It's this way, Hardy," he would say to the younger detective, "themystery centres about that paper snake. When we find out the reason forMiss Carrington's sending for that thing, we've the whole story."
"You believe, then, that she did send for it?"
"Of course; why not?"
"We've only Miss Stuart's word for that; and it doesn't seem as if MissCarrington would----"
"Nonsense! It doesn't seem, you mean, as if Miss Stuart would--Why, man,what possible sense _could_ there be in Miss Stuart's buying that snakeon her own account? If she set out to poison her aunt,--which shedidn't,--she could have managed it in a dozen ways without lugging inthat paper reptile. In fact, it never would have occurred to her to doso. _Why_ would she do it?"
"In an attempt to frighten the lady to death?"
"Rubbish! The first effect of such a fright would be a fearful outcry onMiss Carrington's part, and immediate discovery of the plot. Moreover, ifMiss Stuart bought that snake for any such purpose, she would have boughtit secretly; at some little, obscure shop, not at a well-known emporium.No, sir, the snake is the key to the puzzle, but how? That is thequestion. You see, the doctors are pretty sure that the thing was putround the lady's neck before she died. Therefore she was eitherunconscious at the time, or,--she was willing."
"Never! Everybody says her fear of the things would never let her have itput on her willingly."
"I know they say so, but they may be mistaken. I'm beginning to evolve atheory that will fit the facts, queer as they are. But my theory needs awhole lot of other facts to back it up, and those facts I can't seem tofind."
"Does your theory implicate Miss Stuart?"
"It does not."
"I thought not."
"You thought quite right. It does not implicate Miss Stuart, because sheis in no way responsible for her aunt's death. But she may haveknowledge, or she may think she has, that is leading her to shieldsomebody else."
"Whom?"
"I don't know. She is rather a puzzling creature. Is she--is she in lovewith that cousin of hers?"
"Haviland?"
"No, the one in Egypt."
"Oh, Loria. I don't know, I'm sure. You read his letter to her, it wasn'tin any sense a love-letter."
"No, but it was evidently a letter written with the idea of other peoplereading it, because of the circumstances. Of course, he wouldn't put anyintimate talk in it. And it was typewritten, so I couldn't judge anythingof the man from his chirography."
"Does handwriting mean much to you?"
"Yes, indeed. It is a wonderful expression of character. But I don'tsuppose it would declare his adoration of a lady, unless he put it inwords also."
"You don't connect Loria with the crime in any way, do you?"
"I don't see how I can, unless in collusion or through the assistance ofMiss Stuart. And I'm not ready to do that. I'm working now on thatconversation overheard by Miss Frayne."
"You accept that whole, then?"
"Yes, for the simple reason that she would not have invented all thattalk. Even if she were in the room herself, and the remarks wereaddressed to her, she might be trying to lay the blame elsewhere; tocreate that conversation out of her own brain is too preposterous. Yousee, Hardy, these things must be weighed in the balance of probability.If Miss Frayne had set out to invent a lot of stuff which she merelypretended to overhear, she would have had two sides to the conversation.It is that unusual effect of one voice only that gives her story thestamp of truth."
"But there must have been another voice, even though inaudible to her."
"That's just the point. There may have been,--probably was. But if thestory was her own invention, she never would have thought of representingthat second voice as inaudible. Now, either she did hear Miss Carringtonsay those things, or she didn't. I believe she did, because if shehadn't, she must have invented the tale, and if she had invented it, itwould have been different. Likewise, Miss Stuart's snake story. If itwere not true that her aunt asked her to buy that snake, Miss Stuart musthave made up that yarn. And if she had made it up, it would have beendifferent. That's always my test for the truth of an amazing statement.If the teller were falsifying, would he tell it that way? If so, then itis probably a lie: if not, then probably it is a true bill. Now they sayMiss Carrington had a high, shrill voice. Did you ever hear it, Hardy?"
"No. I never knew the lady. But I've heard a record of it on thephonograph, and it is high, and rather thin."
"On the phonograph? How does that happen?"
"Gray Haviland is a dabster at that sort of thing, and he has people singfor him and make records frequently. And once I heard that they had arecord of the dead woman's singing, and I asked to hear it, merely out ofcuriosity or a general interest. And it contained some spoken words too,and her speaking voice is high and shrill, just such as would carrythrough a closed door. You can, of course, hear the record, if you careto."
"I do care to. I'll make a note of that. Now, here's another thing. MissStuart has declared that she obliterated a footprint which was noticeablein that powder scattered by the dressing-table."
"Yes, I know it. And Haviland states that it was he who wiped out thatprint! What do you make of that?"
"That Haviland did do it, and Miss Stuart fibbed about it to shieldHaviland."
"Oh, so it's Haviland you think Miss Pauline is shielding?"
"I think it may be; at any rate, she suspects some one dear to herand----"
"You're 'way off, Mr. Stone! If you'll excuse my saying so, Miss Stuarthas pulled the wool over your eyes until you don't know where you're at."
Fleming Stone gasped. Pulled wool over his eyes! Over the eyes, thegimlet eyes, the all-seeing eyes of Fleming Stone! What could the manmean? And this so-called wool pulled by a woman! What unheard-ofabsurdity!
"Mr. Hardy,----" he began.
"Yes, yes, I know. Nothing of the sort, and all that. But it's true, Mr.Stone. Miss Stuart is a siren from Sirenville. She can make any man thinkblack is white if she chooses. And she has been bullied and cowed by thatold aunt of hers for years, and for my part, I don't blame her forgetting to the end of her rope. If she----"
"Stop! Mr. Hardy, I know you think you're right, but you are not! Do youhear, you are not! And I'll prove it to you, and that soon! I'll ferretout this thing, and I'll do it on this new theory of mine whether youbelieve it or not!"
Hardy looked at the man in amazement. He had expected a different mode ofprocedure from this talented sleuth. He had looked for a quiet, even icy,demeanor, and magical and instantaneous solution of all mystery. And herewas the great man, clearly baffled at the queerly tangled web ofevidence, and, moreover, caught in the toils of a woman whom Hardy fullybelieved to be the criminal herself.
But he only said quietly, "What way does your theory point, Mr. Stone? Imay be able to help you."
"You can't, Hardy, because you're so determined to find Miss Stuartguilty that you couldn't see it as I do. You consider the strangefeatures of this case--and Lord
knows they _are_ strange!--separately,whereas they must be looked at as a whole. The gown, the quantity ofjewelry, the smiling face, the glove, the overheard conversation,--allthese points are to be considered as of one import,--as leading to oneconclusion. And you think of them as implicating--separately, mindyou--Miss Stuart, Miss Frayne, and the noble Count. Now, all those queerpoints are not only connected, but identical in their significance. Butnever mind that. Here's the place to begin. Miss Carrington was poisoned.She didn't poison herself. Who did?"
"Mr. Stone, you have put it tersely. I entirely agree that all we areseeking is the answer to that last question of yours."
"I will yet give it to you," and Fleming Stone spoke solemnly rather thanboastingly. "The poison, the aconitine, was taken by Miss Carrington asshe sat there at her own dressing-table. She took it willingly,smilingly,----"
"Yes, because she didn't know she was taking it. When she ate thesandwich----"
"The poison wasn't in the sandwich. She took that poison in water. Thetumbler and spoon that were used are even now on the glass shelf in herbath-room."
"You know this?"
"I know that in the glass that now stands there a chemist has found aslight trace of aconite. I took the glass myself to be tested, with thatresult. This is not a great discovery, it merely proves that the poisonwas administered in water, not in a sandwich."
"But it also means that it was given to her by some one who couldpersuade her to take the solution, unquestioningly,--not undercompulsion."
"It would seem so."
"And that points to Miss Stuart."
"Not necessarily. Hardy, I refuse to discuss these things with you if youavow everything to condemn her. Why does what I have just told you pointto Miss Stuart any more than any one else in the house? Why not MissFrayne? Or Haviland?"
"Pshaw! Nobody suspects Gray Haviland."
"But why not? If you're merely suspecting here and there without definitereason, why not include him on your list? And here's another thing.Whoever mixed that poison in the glass of water, afterward rinsed theglass and returned it to its place in the bath-room? This was either doneat the time, that is, before the lady died, or later on, after death hadensued. In either case, it opens up a field of conjecture."
"It doesn't with me," said Hardy, bluntly. "There's no room forconjecture. It simply piles up the proof against Miss Stuart, and allyour skill and even your will can't get her off."
A low moan was heard and a sound as of a falling body. Stone sprang tothe door, and flinging it open, disclosed Pauline lying on the floorwhere she had just fallen. With a low exclamation, Stone picked her upand carried her to a couch. In a moment she sat up and cried, "What doyou mean, Mr. Hardy? Do you think I killed Aunt Lucy?"
"There, there, Miss Stuart, don't ask foolish questions," and Hardy,deeply embarrassed, stood at bay. It was one thing to assert hissuspicions to Fleming Stone, and quite another to have them overheard bythis beautiful and indignant girl.
"How dare you!" Pauline went on. "I was at the door and I heard all yousaid. No, I am not ashamed of listening, I'm glad I did. Now I know whatI have to fight against! And you, Mr. Stone, do you think me a murderer?"
Pauline cringed not at all. She looked more like an avenging goddess, asshe confronted the two men, and her blazing eyes and frowning facechallenged their replies.
"I do not, Miss Stuart," said Stone, quietly, but Pauline responded, "Howdo I know? If you did, you'd say you didn't! I have no friend, no one tostand up for me. I shall send for Carr. He will defend me."
With a disdainful glance round, she left the room. The two men looked atone another.
"Guilty," said Hardy.
"Never!" said Stone, and then the two went their different ways.
Hardy's way led to the Police Headquarters, and his report there, whichincluded Stone's story of the tested glass, was heard with interest.
He demanded Miss Stuart's immediate arrest, claiming that only she couldhave persuaded her aunt to swallow the poisoned draught.
Inspector Brunt was not quite willing to order arrest, but he setmachinery at work which he hoped would bring decisive results of somesort.
It did.
That same evening, Pauline went to Fleming Stone. The two were alone.Standing before him, in all her somewhat tragic beauty, Pauline asked:"You don't think me guilty, Mr. Stone?"
He looked deep in the great, dark eyes that seemed to challenge his verysoul, and after a moment's steady glance, he replied, "I know you arenot, Miss Stuart."
"Can you prove it?"
"I hope to."
"That means nothing. Are you sure you can?"
Fleming Stone looked troubled. Never before in his career had he beenunable to declare his surety of success; but with those compelling eyesupon him he couldn't deny a present doubt.
Shaking himself, as if to be freed from a spell, he said, at last, "MissStuart, I am _not_ sure. I am convinced of your innocence, but the onlytheory of guilt that I can conceive of is so difficult, so almostimpossible of proof, and so lacking in plausibility, that it seemshopeless. If determination and desperate effort can do it, you shall beexonerated. But there are many circumstances not in your favor. These Ishall overcome, eventually. But, to be honest, until I can get a clue ora link of some sort to join my purely imaginative theory to some tangiblefact, I can do little. I am working day and night in my efforts to findthis connection I seek, but it may take a long time. Meanwhile----"
"Meanwhile, I may be arrested?" Pauline's voice was a mere whisper; herface was drawn and white with fear. To Stone she did not look like aguilty woman, but like an innocent girl, frightened at thought of unjustsuspicion and terrorized by imagination of the unknown horrors that mightcome to her.
"Oh, help me!" she moaned, "Mr. Stone, can't you help me?"
"Pauline!" he exclaimed, taking her hands in his; "Pauline! Go!" hecried, tensely: "I will save you, but until I do, keep away from me! Youunnerve me! I cannot think!"
"I understand!" and Pauline slowly drew her hands from his. "I will keepaway from you."
Stone let her go. He closed the door after her, locked it, and threwhimself into a chair. What had he done? Full well he knew what he haddone. Hardy was right. He had fallen in love with Pauline Stuart! Herealized it, quietly, honestly, as he would have realized anyincontrovertible fact. His subconsciousness was that of a deep, stillgladness; but, strangely enough, his surface thought was that since hehad fallen in love with her, so undeniably, so irrevocably, she _must_ beinnocent.
Then on the heels of this thought, came another, equally logical: if hedeemed her innocent, was it not only because he loved her?
It was only after an hour of deep thought that Fleming Stone pulledhimself together and realized with a conquering assurance, that he couldgo on with the case, and do his duty. If, as he was confident, he couldprove his vague theory to be fact, then his love for Pauline would helphim to good work and triumphant conclusions. If, instead, his furtherinvestigations showed his theory to be false, then he must push on, andif--it couldn't be, but if--well,--he could always drop the case.But,--and of this he was certain,--his heart should not only be kept frominterfering with the work of his head but it should help and encouragesuch desperately clever work that success must come.
Pauline did not appear at dinner that night, and on inquiry, Stone wastold she had gone over to New York for a day or two.
This, then, was what she had meant when she said, "I will keep away fromyou."
The next day came District Attorney Matthews to interview Miss Stuart.Her absence from home annoyed him and he asked for her New York address.This no one knew, as she had not informed any of them where she wasstaying in the city, and Mr. Matthews went off in a state of angryexcitement. But the household at Garden Steps was even more excited.
For this was the first sign of a definite action against Pauline. What itmeant or how far it would go, no one could say.
And then, that afternoon, came a letter from Pauline h
erself. It had beenmailed in New York that morning and contained the surprising news thatPauline had sailed at noon that day for Alexandria.
"Get her back!" roared Haviland, as he read the letter. "Wireless thesteamer and make her get picked up by some incoming ship! Don't think ofexpense! She musn't run off like that! It's equivalent to confession ofthe crime!"
"Hush!" demanded Fleming Stone. "How dare you say that?"
"It's true!" cried Anita. "Why else would Pauline run away? She knew shewas on the verge of arrest and she fled to Carr Loria. He will hide herfrom her pursuers."
"He can," said Haviland, thoughtfully: "maybe it's as well she's gonethere. Of course, she did it."
"Of course, she didn't!" and Fleming Stone's voice trembled in its veryintensity. "And I shall prove to a lot of dunder-headed police that shedidn't, but it will make my work much harder if you two insist on MissStuart's guilt. Why do you want to railroad her into conviction of acrime she never dreamed of?"
"Then who did it?" demanded Anita. "To whom _was_ Miss Lucy speaking whenshe said those things I heard?"
"If you harp on that string much longer," said Stone, looking at her,"one might almost be justified in thinking she said them to you."
"No," said Anita, in a low, awed voice, and looking straight at FlemingStone, "no, she did not say them to me."
And Stone knew she spoke the solemn truth.
But she had not spoken the truth when she said she saw Pauline Stuartcoming from the boudoir of her aunt.
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