CHAPTER VIII
RODNEY POLLOCK APPEARS
The shock of Bannard's arrest caused the complete collapse of Iris. MissDarrel put the girl to bed and sent for Doctor Littell. He prescribedonly rest and quiet and ordinary care, saying that a nurse wasunnecessary, as Iris' physical health was unaffected and he knew herwell enough to feel sure that she would recuperate quickly.
And she did. A day or two later she was herself again, and ready tofollow up her determination to avenge the death of Ursula Pell.
"It's too absurd to suspect Win!" she said to the Bowens, who calledoften. "That boy is no more guilty than I am! Of course, he wasn't uphere last Sunday! But no one will believe in his innocence until thereal murderer is found. And I'm going to find him, and find the jewels,and solve the whole mystery!"
"There, there, Iris," Miss Darrel said, soothingly, for she thought thegirl still hysterical, "don't think about those things now."
"Not think about them!" cried Iris, "why, what else can I think of?I've thought of nothing else for the whole week. It's Saturday now, andin six days we've done nothing, positively nothing toward finding thecriminal."
"Perhaps it would be better not to try," suggested Mr. Bowen, gently.
"You say that because you believe Win guilty!" Iris shot at him. "I_know_ he wasn't! You don't think he was, do you, Mrs. Bowen?"
"I scarcely know what to think, Iris, it is all so mysterious. Even ifWinston did commit the crime, how did he get out of the room?"
"That's a secondary consideration----"
"I don't think so," put in the rector. "I think that's the first thingto be decided. Knowing that one could speculate----"
Iris turned away wearily. Though fond of the gentle little Mrs. Bowen,she had never liked the pompous and self-important clergyman, and sherose now to greet someone who appeared at the outer door.
It was Roger Downing, who, always devoted to Iris, was now striving toearn her gratitude by showing his willingness to be of help in any wayhe might. He came every day, and though Iris was careful not toencourage him, she eagerly wanted to know just what he knew aboutBannard's presence at Pellbrook on the day of the tragedy.
"It's this way," Downing expressed it. "Win was certainly up here lastSunday, for I saw him. Now, Iris, if you want me to say I was mistakenas to his identity, I'll say it--but, I wasn't."
"You mean, sir, you would tell an untruth?" said Mr. Bowen, severely.
"I mean just that," averred Downing; "I care far more for Miss Clyde andher wishes than I do for the Goddess of Truth. I'm sorry if I shock you,sir, but that is the fact."
Mr. Bowen indeed looked shocked, but Iris said, emphatically, "You_were_ mistaken, Roger, you must have been!"
"Very well, then, I was," he returned, but everyone knew he waspurposely making a misstatement.
"Where was he?" said Iris, altogether illogically.
"In the woods, near the orchard fence."
"Sunday afternoon?"
"No; not afternoon. I'm not just sure of the time, but it was aboutnoon. I was taking a long walk; I'd been nearly to Felton Falls, and wascoming home to dinner. I only caught a glimpse of him, and I didn'tthink anything about it, until--until he said he hadn't been out of NewYork city on Sunday."
"Then, if you only caught a glimpse," Iris said quickly, "it may easilyhave been someone else! And it doubtless was."
"Shall I say so? Or do you want the truth?"
Iris dropped her eyes and said nothing. But Mr. Bowen spoke severely;"Cease that nonsense, Roger. Tell what you saw, and tell it frankly. Thetruth must be told."
"It's better to tell it anyway," declared Lucille Darrel, "truth can'tharm the innocent. But it seems to me Mr. Downing may be mistaken."
"No, I'm not mistaken. Why, he wore that gray suit with a Norfolkjacket, that I've seen him wear before this summer. And he had on alight gray tie, with a ruby stickpin. The sun happened to hit the stoneand I saw it gleam. You know that pin, Iris?"
Iris knew it only too well, and she knew, moreover, that when Win cameup Sunday evening he wore that same suit, and the same scarf and pin. Hehad gone back to town the next day for other clothing, but when he hadrushed to Berrien in response to Iris' summons, he had not stopped tochange.
And yet, she was not ready, quite, to believe Downing's story. Suppose,in enmity to Win, he had made this all up. He might easily describeclothing that he knew Winston possessed, without having seen him as hesaid he had.
Iris looked at Downing so earnestly that he quailed before her glance.
"I don't believe your story at all!" she said; "you are making it up,because you hate Win, and it's absurd on the face of it! If Win came uphere on Sunday at noon, he would come in for dinner, of course----"
"Not if he came with sinister intent," interrupted Downing.
"I don't believe it! You have made up that whole yarn, and let me tellyou, you didn't do it very cleverly, either! Why didn't you say you sawhim in the afternoon? It would have been more convincing, and quite astrue!"
"I wasn't near here myself in the afternoon. But I did pass here justbefore twelve, and I did see him." Downing's voice had a ring of truth."However, after this, I shall say I did not see him. I know you preferthat I should."
He looked straight at Iris, and ignored Mr. Bowen's pained exclamation.
"Say whatever you like, it doesn't matter to me," the girl returnedhaughtily.
"It does matter to you--and to Win. So, I shall say I was mistaken andthat I did not see Winston Bannard on Sunday. I shall expect you, Mr.Bowen, and you ladies, not to report this conversation to the police. Ifyou are questioned concerning it, you must say what you choose. But youwill not be questioned, unless someone now present tattles."
* * * * *
Later that day, Iris had another caller. He sent up no card, but Agnestold her that a Mr. Pollock wished to see her.
"Don't go down, if you don't want to," urged Lucille, "I'll see what hewants."
But Miss Darrel's presence was not satisfactory to the stranger. Heinsisted on seeing Miss Clyde.
So Iris came down to find a man of pleasant manner and correct demeanor,who greeted her with dignity.
"I ask but a few moments of your time, Miss Clyde. I am Rodney Pollock,home Chicago, business hardware, but as a recreation I am a collector."
"And you are interested in my late aunt's curios," suggested Iris. "I amsorry to disappoint you, but they are not available for sale yet, and,indeed, I doubt if they ever will be."
"Don't go too fast," Mr. Pollock smiled a little, "my collection is notof rare bibelots or valuable curios. Perhaps I'd better confide thatI'm an eccentric. I gather things that, while of no real use to others,interest me. Now, what I want from you, and I am willing to pay a pricefor it, is the ten cent piece and the pin your aunt left to you in herwill."
"What!" and Iris stared at him.
"I told you I was eccentric," he said, quietly, "more, I am amonomaniac, perhaps. But, also, I am a philosopher, and I know, that, asold Dr. Coates said, 'If you want to be happy, make a collection.' So Icollect trifles, that, valueless in themselves, have a dramatic orhistoric interest; and I wish," he beamed with pride, "you could see mytreasures! Why, I have a pencil that President Garfield carried in hispocket the day he was shot, and I have a shoelace that belonged toCharlie Ross, and----"
"What very strange things to collect!"
"Yes, they are. But they interest me. My business, hardware, is prosaic,and having an imaginative nature I let my fancy stray to these tragicmementoes of crime or disaster. I have a menu card from the Lusitaniaand a piece of queerly twisted glass from the Big Tom explosion. I lookreverently upon the relics of sad disasters, and I value my collectionas a numismatist his coins or an art collector his pictures."
"But it seems so absurd to ask for a common pin!"
"It may, but I would greatly like to have it. You see, it was an unusualgift. You didn't care for it, in fact, I have heard you indignantlys
purned it."
"I did."
"They say, you expected a diamond pin, and your aunt left you a dime andpin! Is that so?"
"That is so."
"Pardon my smiling, but I think it's the funniest thing I ever heard.And I would greatly like to have that pin and that dime."
"I'm sorry to say it's impossible, as I flung them away, and I've noidea where they landed."
"If you had them would you sell them to me?"
"I'd give them to you, if I had them! Why, it was merely an ordinarydime, not an old or rare coin. And the pin was a common one."
"Yes, I know that, but the idea, you see, the strange bequest--oh, Igreatly desire to have one or the other of those two things! Can't wefind them? Where did you throw them?"
"The dime I remember throwing out of the window. It must have fallen inthe grass, you never could find that! The pin, I tossed on the floor, Ithink----"
"Has the room been swept since?"
"No, it has not. It should have been, but we have been so upset in thehouse----"
"I quite understand. I have a home and family, and I know whathousekeeping means. However, since the room has not been swept, may Ilook around a bit in it?"
"It is this room, the room we are in. I sat right here, when I openedthe box. I threw the dime out of that window, and I flung the pin overthat way. I confess to a quick temper, and I was decidedly indignant.Let us look for the pin, and if we find it you may have it."
Iris was pleasantly impressed by Mr. Pollock's manner and set him downin her mind as a ridiculous but good-natured lunatic--not really insane,of course, but a little hipped on the subject of mementoes.
At her permission, her visitor fell on hands and knees, and went quicklyover the floor of the whole room. Iris with difficulty restrained herlaughter at the nimble figure hopping about like a frog, and peeringinto corners and under the furniture.
She looked about also, but from the more dignified position of standing,or sitting on a chair or footstool.
The search grew interesting, and at last they considered it completed.Their joint result was four pins and a needle.
Mr. Pollock presented a chagrined face.
"It may be any one of these," he said, ruefully looking at the fourpins.
"That's true," Iris agreed. "But you may have them all, if you wish."
"Can't you judge which it is? See, this one is extra large."
"Then that's not it. I know it was of ordinary size. I scarcely lookedat it, but I know that. Nor was it this crooked one. It was straight,I'm sure. But it may easily have been either of these other two."
"Suppose I take these two, then, and put them in my collection, with thesurety that one or other is the identical pin."
"Do so, if you like," and Iris gave him a humoring smile. "Now, do youcare to hunt for the dime? If you do, there's the lawn. But I won't helpyou, the sun is too warm."
"I think I won't hunt, or if I do, it will be only a little. I have thispin, and that is sufficient for a memento of this case. I am on my wayto a house in Vermont, where I hope to get a button that figured in asensational tragedy up there. I thank you for being so kind and I wouldgreatly prefer to pay you for this pin. I am not a poor man."
"Nonsense! I couldn't take money for a pin! You're more than welcome toit. And one of those two must be the one, for I'm sure there's no otherpin on this floor."
"I'm sure of that, too. I looked most carefully. Good-by, Miss Clyde,and accept the gratitude of a man who has a foolish but innocent fad."
Iris bowed a farewell at the front door, and returned to the living-roomsmiling at the funny adventure.
Almost involuntarily she began to look over the floor again, searchingfor pins.
"Have you lost anything?" asked Agnes, coming by.
"No; I've been looking for a pin."
"Want one, Miss Iris? Here's one."
"No, I don't want a pin, I mean--I don't want--a pin." Iris concludedher sentence rather lamely, for she had been half inclined to tell Agnesthe story of her visitor, when something restrained her.
Perhaps it was Agnes' expression, for the maid said, "Were you lookingfor the pin Mrs. Pell left you?"
"Yes, I was," said Iris, astonished at the query.
"I have it," Agnes went on. "I picked it up the day you threw it away."
"For gracious' sake! Why did you do that?"
"Because--that's a lucky pin. Miss Iris, your aunt had that pin foryears."
"I know it; it's been years in that box Mr. Chapin held for me."
"But before that. When I first came to live with Mrs. Pell, she alwayswore a pin stuck in the front of her dress. Once I took it out, itlooked so silly, you know. She blew me up terribly, and said if I everdisturbed her things again she'd discharge me. And I gave it back toher--I had stuck it in my own dress--and she wore it for a short timemore, and then she didn't wear it. Even then, I wouldn't have thoughtanything much about it, but a maid who lived here before I did, said shelost a pin once that had been in the waist of Mrs. Pell's gown and theyhad an awful time about it."
"Did they find it?"
"I don't know. I think not. I think she took another pin for a 'Luck.'Why, Polly knew about it. She said when she heard what Mrs. Pell hadleft to you, that it might be the lucky pin."
"Oh, what foolishness! Well, Agnes, have you really got the pin thatAunt Ursula left to me?"
"Yes, ma'am, as soon as I saw you throw it away, I watched my chance togo and pick it up before Polly could get it."
"Do you want to keep it?"
"Not if you want it, Miss Iris. If not, I'd like to have it. I supposeit's superstitious, but it seems lucky to me."
"Go and get it, Agnes, and let me see it."
* * * * *
But the maid returned without the pin.
"I can't find it, Miss Iris. I put it on the under side of my ownpincushion, and there's none there now. I asked Polly and she said shedidn't touch it. Where could it have gone?"
"You used it unthinkingly. It doesn't matter, there's no such thing as alucky pin, Agnes. You can just as well take any other pin out of AuntUrsula's cushion--take one, if you like--and call that your 'Luck.'Don't be a silly!"
Iris smiled to think that neither of the pins her strange visitorcarried off with him was the right one, after all. "But," she thought,"it makes no difference, anyway, as he thinks he has it. He's sure it'sone of the two he has; if there were three uncertain ones it would betoo complicated. Let the poor man rest satisfied. I wonder if he foundthe dime."
But looking from the window she could see no sign of her late caller,and she dismissed the subject from her mind at once.
* * * * *
Yet she had not heard the last of it.
In the evening mail a letter came for her. It was in an unfamiliarhandwriting, and was written on a single plain sheet of paper.
The note ran:
MISS CLYDE,
DEAR MADAM:
I will pay you one hundred dollars for the pin left to you by your aunt. Please make every effort to find it, and lay it on the South gatepost to-night at ten o'clock. Don't let anybody see you. You will receive the money to-morrow by registered mail. No harm is meant, but I want to get ahead of that other man who is making a collection. Put it in a box, and be sly about it. I'll get it all right. You don't know me, but I would scorn to write an anonymous letter, and I willingly sign my name,
WILLIAM ASHTON.
That evening Iris told Lucille all about it.
"What awful rubbish," commented that lady. "But I know people who makejust such foolish collections. One friend of mine collects buttons fromher friends' dresses. Why, I'm afraid to go there, with a gown trimmedwith fancy buttons; she rips one off when you're not looking! It'sreally a mania with her. Now two men are after your pin. Have you gotit? I'd sell it for a hundred dollars, if I were you. And that man willpay. Those collectors are ge
nerally honest."
"No; I haven't it." And Iris proceeded to tell of Agnes' connection withthe matter.
"H'm, a Luck! I've heard of them, too. Sometimes they're worth keeping.Oh, no, I'm not really superstitious, but an old Luck is greatly to bereverenced, if nothing more. If that pin was Ursula's Luck, you ought tokeep it, my dear."
"But I haven't it. If it is a Luck, and if its possession would helpme--would help to free Win--I'd like to see the collector that could getit away from me!"
"Oh, it mightn't be so potent as all that, but after all, a Luck is aLuck, and I'd be careful how I let one get away."
"But it has got away. And, too, I let friend Pollock go off with theidea that he had it; now, if I were to let somebody else take it, Mr.Pollock would have good reason to chide me."
"But how did this other man know about it?"
"I've no idea, unless he and Pollock are friends and compare notes."
"But how did--what's his name?--Ashton, know it was lost?"
"That's so, how did he? It's very mysterious. What shall I do?"
"Nothing at all. You can't put it on the gatepost, if you don't knowwhere it is. But I'd certainly try to find it. Ask Polly what she knowsabout it."
"I will, to-morrow. She's gone to bed by now. Poor old thing, she workspretty hard."
"I know it. I'll be glad when I get a whole staff of new servants. ButI'll wait till this excitement is over."
That was Miss Darrel's attitude. She had received her inheritance andselfishly took little interest in that of the other heirs.
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