Despite his arm, which he had redressed himself and which was quite stiff, McKelvie was up ahead of me, and when I came down at noon attired in my own garments (McKelvie had phoned Jenkins to bring me my things) I felt quite like myself again.
"Has the doctor been here?" I asked as we had our luncheon.
"Yes, but he will be back later. Lee is still asleep. We shall hear his story this afternoon." Then he sighed. "I wish we had been able to catch that old chap. I am positive he is the murderer. I felt it in my bones when he looked at me and my bones are quite infallible, I assure you," and he smiled whimsically.
"It is a pity," I said, "for then this business would be over."
When we rose from the table and went back to the living-room, McKelvie moved about restlessly, and then said impatiently, "I wish the doctor would come. I want to get at the boy's story as soon as possible, for I think he may help us locate Cora Manning, and we shall have to work fast now if we expect to catch the criminal. He's too clever to hang around much longer, now that he knows the game is up as far as Mrs. Darwin is concerned."
I heartily indorsed McKelvie's words, for I was eager to hear what Lee had to say, but he did not waken until five o'clock and the doctor, who had come in some time previous, forbade our disturbing him. When we finally mounted to his room, Jones, McKelvie and I, we could hardly wait for the doctor's assurance that he thought it would not harm the young man to talk. As we gathered about the bed, Lee leaned back against his pillows, his hollow cheeks flushed and his black eyes glittering strangely as he looked at us. I heard Jones mutter something about "eyes like a madman's," which Lee evidently overheard, for he turned to the doctor with an appealing glance.
"Before I begin," he said, in a weak voice, "I want you, doctor, to answer me a question. Am I perfectly rational and sane?"
"Yes, perfectly sane," responded the doctor, quietly.
Lee breathed a sigh of relief. "Please remember that, gentlemen," he continued. "I may look mad but I'm not. No, nor ever have been, though at times I thought I was pretty near to it."
He paused to gather strength and then he told his tale almost without a break, for it gripped him too vitally to admit of his stopping, once he had begun.
"To explain my actions I must go back to the morning of the seventh. I testified at the inquest that I quarreled with my uncle about Ruth. I lied. We quarreled about Cora Manning."
At this name Jones leaned closer, a greater interest in his face.
"I met her a year ago when she came to New York to study for the stage. Three months ago we became engaged and I gave her, as is customary, a diamond ring. Later I introduced my uncle to her. Instantly he evinced a great interest in her, cloaking his infatuation (I know it was that now) under the guise of a desire to aid her in her career. He took her out a number of times and when I protested she accused me of being jealous of my uncle, which she said was unworthy of me if I loved her, since my uncle was an old married man.
"To make a long story short, on the morning of the seventh, as I was leaving the house, my uncle called me back into the study and there showed me the ring I had given Cora, swearing she had bestowed it upon him to return it to me, as she no longer cared for me and was coming to see him there in the study that night. He had the ring on the little finger of his left hand and he pulled it off with a laugh and held it toward me. I snatched it from him and flung it in his face, and would have leaped upon him to strangle him then and there, but he read my purpose in my face, and like the craven that he was, he called to Orton to come into the room. Then he ordered me to leave his house and I went out by the window, vowing vengeance upon him.
"I hurried to Cora's and accused her of treachery, declaring I'd kill my uncle before he should have her. I was mad, crazy, and refusing to listen to any explanations I rushed away and bought a pistol. That evening I hung around the house on Riverside Drive. I would wait her arrival and then go in and kill them both. I saw my uncle let himself into the house and about an hour later Mr. Davies arrived, but still no Cora. I began to think I had been a fool, but determined to wait a while longer just to make sure. About eleven forty-five, for I looked at my watch as I reached the gate, I saw her coming down the street with a suitcase in her hand. Mad with rage, I hid behind some bushes and followed her as she turned into the grounds. It was very dark and I lost her as she slipped around the house.
"I decided to enter by the front door and confront them, then I recalled that Mr. Davies had not yet gone, and determined to try the windows. I crept to the second window and by means of my flash saw that the shade did not come level with the bottom of the window. I knelt down and applied my eye to this space. By looking upward from the extreme corner of the window I discovered that I could see what my uncle was doing. The room was dark except for the lamp that threw its rays over the table and chair, and in the latter my uncle was reclining asleep. Then as I looked, suddenly Cora appeared beside the table and in her hand she carried a small pistol. She pointed it at my uncle, and just then the light went out. I judged that she had shot him, though I heard no sound, and so paralyzed with horror was I that I remained where I was gazing into the darkness of the room before me.
"How long I stayed there I don't know. Presently I thought I heard the sound of a step on the walk. I wrenched myself free from the entangling ivy and hastened to the gate. There was no one in sight. For a long time I stood there, debating whether to go back or not, and then I came to the conclusion that if she had really shot my uncle she needed every minute to get away. I fled the place and paced the streets in an agony of suspense. In the morning I returned to the Club, where I slept until noon. When the steward woke me my first thought was for Cora. I dashed around to Gramercy Park. She was gone, had been gone since the night before. Then I rushed up to my uncle's house, thinking she might have been caught. I found the coroner in possession. Persuaded that Cora had killed my uncle and not seeing her present, I determined to shield her by denying all knowledge of her. After my testimony I went upstairs to my rooms, gathered together a few necessary articles and went back to Gramercy Park. She was still missing. I thought of advertising for her and had gone as far as theHeraldoffice when it occurred to me that by locating her I would only be putting her life in danger.
"Dejectedly I returned to the Club once more and there found a written message awaiting me. I read and destroyed it, but the words are burned into my brain:
'Lee, my darling: I killed him to save my honor. If you love me, help me to get away. I could not bear the notoriety of a trial. Meet me at the corner of Twenty-third Street and Third Avenue and I'll be waiting for you in a brown taxi.Cora.'
'Lee, my darling: I killed him to save my honor. If you love me, help me to get away. I could not bear the notoriety of a trial. Meet me at the corner of Twenty-third Street and Third Avenue and I'll be waiting for you in a brown taxi.Cora.'
"I told the steward to hold my rooms as I was going South on business, and took a taxi to Twenty-fifth and Third Avenue, where I dismissed the man and walked rapidly to Twenty-third Street."
Lee paused and drew a gasping breath, whereupon the doctor hastened to administer a stimulant.
"The car was waiting?" prompted McKelvie.
"Yes, and when I appeared the door opened and a hand beckoned. I entered the car unsuspectingly, but I was no sooner seated and the door had been closed (it was dark as pitch inside, since all the shades were drawn) than I felt a hand on my face and smelled something that made me gasp. Some instinct warned me not to breathe and I thrust out my hand and my fingers closed on a man's rough coat. Then I realized I'd been trapped and flung myself toward my assailant. He grasped my throat and thrust a handkerchief over my face. The deadly fumes got into my lungs, for I felt myself suffocating, and drawing a deep involuntary breath I fell unconscious.
"When I came to I was lying in the room where you found me, and a couple of ruffians were guarding me. I do not recall much of this part of the affair, for I was kept in a semi-conscious state most of the time and left absolutely alone all day, with little or no food. I have an impression that once every night I was shaken into consciousness by someone who spoke in a harsh whisper and asked me a lot of questions about the murder. Fearing for Cora, I refused to answer. Every day I grew weaker and every day the harsh voice grew more insistent, until the man, whoever he was, started to torture me as well. The day before you rescued me I lost all consciousness of what was going on, for my mind had been partly drugged, I believe. I guess that's all except that I want to thank you fellows for getting me out of there."
Lee closed his eyes wearily, and Jones scratched his head in perplexity.
"If what he says is true," whispered Jones to me, "where does Mrs. Darwin come in? He must have dreamed all this. Darwin was shot at midnight."
"He didn't dream that he had been held a prisoner, at least," I returned. "As for the rest, I presume it's all true enough," and I turned toward McKelvie to get his opinion in the matter.
"Mr. Darwin," McKelvie said, as Lee opened his eyes again, "are you strong enough to answer some questions?"
"Yes," Lee answered.
"Describe the man who questioned you?"
"I never saw him. The room was always dark. I heard his voice, that is all. It was always a harsh whisper. But wait, once I put out my hand and felt a beard, long and silky."
McKelvie nodded quickly. "What questions did he ask you?"
"He asked me where I was the night of the murder, and he kept saying over and over, 'someone you love is in danger and when you tell me what you know about your uncle's murder, she will be freed.'
"I had a feeling this was another trap," Lee went on, "since if I told him that she had committed the murder they would send her to prison. I had no idea what his connection with the affair might be, but I determined not to be caught napping again."
"There is no connection between him and the murder," responded Jones authoritatively. "We've got the criminal locked up this minute."
"Oh, have you," returned McKelvie, sarcastically. "Just listen to what I have since discovered, Jones," and he sketched rapidly the main facts in the case.
They listened spellbound, as he told of the secret entrance and the second shot, declaring that Darwin was murdered at eleven-forty by the man we had seen in the curio shop, that this man was keeping Cora Manning a prisoner, and had deliberately set about implicating Ruth in the murder. Jones' eyes grew wide with astonishment as he listened, for it upset all his preconceived ideas.
"Then she didn't kill him, thank God, thank God," sobbed Lee, quite overcome by all he had been through.
"No, she didn't kill him," returned McKelvie kindly. "And now we are going to do our best to find her for you."
When we were downstairs again and the doctor had gone, Jones turned to me. McKelvie was smoking his pipe and pacing the room, his brows knit in thought, and Jones did not like to disturb him.
"I say, Mr. Davies, can't you give a fellow a few more details?" he begged. "I seem to have got the dope all wrong in this case. Who is this mysterious man?"
I glanced at McKelvie, but he was paying no attention to our conversation. I decided that there was no harm in telling Jones all that we knew, since McKelvie himself had already disclosed the more vital points.
So I gave Jones a rapid account of our search for the criminal, how we had discovered the secret entrance, where the trail of the sachet bags had led us, how we had interviewed Orton, Mrs. Harmon, and Cunningham, and how the finding of Dick's ring led to the discovery that he was still alive.
"But as regards the mysterious man in the curio shop," I ended, "I can't tell you who he is since I don't know, but my impression is that he was disguised and that he is not old at all, for one moment he was feeble and bent, and the next, when he turned off the light, tall and strong."
Jones slapped his hand on his knee. "By George, you're right. What did he look like, anyway?"
"When I first saw him he was bent and his head was thrust forward, his hair and beard were silver-white, his eyes protected by blue glasses," I answered.
"Disguised all right," said Jones with conviction. "It's a remarkable thing now, Mr. Davies, but when a man runs to disguise he always chooses the appearance which is his very opposite, the idea being, I suppose, to look as unlike his former self as possible. He stooped and was old, therefore he really is young and tall. He wore whiskers and glasses, therefore he is smooth-shaven and has good eyesight. That's your man."
"And if you add the fact that he is dark, you have a pretty good description of the murderer," put in McKelvie suddenly.
"Good heavens!" I began, but McKelvie raised his hand.
"Keep your suspicions to yourself," he said, and returned to his meditation.
"Seems to me you've made pretty good progress so far," Jones continued, "but what you need is the police on his trail. We'd soon have him where he belongs."
"Well, I don't know that we have made so much progress after all," I went on, as McKelvie ignored Jones' insinuation. "We have reduced the number of suspects by finding Lee, but we really are no further than we were three days ago. We progress so slowly," I added, impatiently, "because we discover only unsubstantiated facts. We thought Lee might be able to help us but he cannot swear to having seen his uncle die, and without that proof Ruth must stay in jail."
"I'm sorry," returned Jones. "The only thing to do is to catch the criminal or learn his identity."
"How?" I demanded. Did Jones think he could win out where McKelvie had been unsuccessful? Then I recalled McKelvie's words before he took the case, when he had handed me his list of questions. "Find the answers to those questions and you will have the name of the man who committed the crime." We ought to be able to answer almost all of them by now.
I pulled out my wallet and opened it, drawing forth the sheets that I had placed there less than a week ago (it seemed more like years) and spread them out in front of Jones, explaining their purpose and how I came by them. He read them through, glanced at McKelvie's back (he was seeking inspiration from the falling night), and then he grinned.
"Say," he whispered loudly, "we ought to be able to dope it out, you and I. I'll read you the questions and you give me the answers." He took out his fountain pen, prepared to fill in my replies, and I humored him.
"Question one. Why was the pistol fired at midnight?" Jones asked.
"To implicate Ruth," I returned.
"Did the murderer also light the lamp?" Jones' pen scratched away as he spoke.
"Yes. He lighted it from the safe," I said, explaining how we had ascertained this fact.
"How did he enter and leave the room?"
"He entered by the window and he left by the secret entrance," I replied, remembering McKelvie's assertion.
"Wrong." McKelvie swung toward us for a moment. "He entered by the door."
"But I thought you said—" I began.
"I've changed my mind," he retorted, and turned his back on us again.
Jones' eyebrows went up a trifle, and then he asked, "What was the motive for the murder?"
"I don't know," I said frankly. "It seems to me that answer depends on who murdered him. Find the murderer and you have the motive, not learn the motive and you have your man, as in most cases," I added.
"We'll leave number four blank, then. Why did the doctors disagree, and which was in the right? I recall that fact now. They had quite a tiff over it and the young doctor was worsted." Jones laughed at the recollection.
My answer astonished him. "I'd say they disagreed because the coroner's physician was a pompous old ass," I returned vindictively. I could not forget that in very truth Ruth's accusal had been the result of this verdict. "Dr. Haskins was in the right, since Darwin was shot at eleven-forty."
"Why did Philip Darwin put that ring on his finger and then take it off again?"
"Cunningham explained that Darwin did it in a moment of sentimentality. It seemed an idiotic thing to do, after all, and I don't believe he was addicted to sentiment," I said.
"Well, no, he might have had it in his hand and slipped it on unthinkingly, and then had trouble taking it off," replied Jones, reflectively.
I shook my head. "No, I am inclined to believe that he hurt his finger with Cora's ring. Lee said his uncle was wearing it on his little finger and that he removed it hastily and handed it to him. It was probably tight for him, and so he bruised the finger," I said.
"Where's the diamond then?" asked Jones.
"It may have fallen out and the murderer may have found it," I returned. "Or better yet, Orton may have taken it. You know Lee flung the ring at his uncle."
"That's plausible, and I never liked the secretary's face, anyway. Whose was the blood-stained handkerchief?" continued Jones.
"Cora Manning's, because of the perfume which all her male friends seem to have adopted also," I remarked.
"Where did the second bullet go?"
"By the way, McKelvie, where did it go?" I inquired.
But he pretended not to hear me, so I said to Jones with a laugh, "Another blank. I have no idea where it went."
"Did McKelvie search the room?"
"With a magnifying glass. It's not there."
"That's queer. It's bound to be somewhere. I'll have to have a look myself. Why is there so much evidence against Mrs. Darwin?"
I permitted myself a smile at Jones' evident estimate of McKelvie's abilities as far as searching a room was concerned, then I replied to his question. "I suppose the criminal believed in being thorough while he was about it."
"Who and what is Cora Manning?"
"She is, or was, Lee's fiancée. As to what she is, I'll tell you better when I see her. According to McKelvie she's a beauty," and I smiled. "Also, if you can believe what he says, the criminal is in love with this girl, so she is not the one who fired the shot."
"So McKelvie says, but if the criminal loves her, how do we know she wasn't his tool. Even the boy upstairs thought she had killed his uncle," remarked Jones.
"Don't be an idiot, Jones," said McKelvie's voice. "She wasn't likely to shoot a man who was already dying when she entered the room. She got there at eleven-forty-five, or later."
"Oh, yes. I forgot that fact. But the boy's watch may have been fast at that," replied Jones, unabashed. "She pointed a pistol at him, you know."
"Yes, and I presume she kept the man she loves in duress all this time? But have it your own way," returned McKelvie, dryly. Then I heard him add to himself, "Where can she be? If I could only lay my finger on her hiding-place, I'd have him in my toils."
"What has become of Darwin's securities?" Jones returned to the paper before him.
"Cunningham says Darwin lost his fortune in Wall Street," I answered.
"What is Lee Darwin's connection with the affair?"
"Like Ruth he is a victim of circumstances and the criminal's machinations," I said.
"Why did Richard Trenton come to New York and then commit suicide?" Jones went on.
"He came to New York at Darwin's request to see him. This we know to be a fact," and I told Jones the gist of Gilmore's story. "Also we know that he did not commit suicide although he tried to give the world that impression."
"That looks very bad. What's Cunningham's relation to the murdered man?"
"Just his friend since Cunningham is not a lawyer."
"That looks bad, too," said Jones. "He acted as counsel at the inquest illegally then."
"He says not. That he did not see Mrs. Darwin and gave her no advice. You can prosecute him when the case is over. We have no time for that now," I added.
"Which one of those having sufficient motive for killing Darwin answers to the description: Clever, unprincipled, absolutely cold-blooded?"
"There's an immense amount of latitude in that question. There might be any number of men of that type, since we do not know how many may have had sufficient motive for killing him. I expect that we haven't met all the men who have grudges against him, not by a long shot. And now, Mr. Jones, having doped it out, as you expressed it, would you mind telling me who committed that murder?" I asked quizzically.
Jones grinned. "I'll be hanged if I know," he replied. "But then we have not answered all the questions, you know. There's the motive and that second bullet. Oh, I say, McKelvie, what about letting me get busy on the trail of the revolver that made that second shot? There's a good substantial clue for you, though I know your preference for deductions."
McKelvie turned away from the window laughing at Jones' irony, then said quietly, "I won't trouble you to locate it as it might inconvenience you sadly. You see, I know where it is."
"You do?" Jones looked incredulous. "You know where it is and you haven't produced it?"
"How could I when you have had it under lock and key at Headquarters right from the start," returned McKelvie, his eyes twinkling.
"I? Oh, no, you're wrong there. I have only Darwin's pistol," replied Jones.
"That's the one I refer to."
"But, man, there's only one shot fired from that, the shot that killed Darwin," expostulated Jones.
"Use your imagination, Jones. Did you never hear of a man's cleaning his pistol and recharging it?" inquired McKelvie sarcastically.
"By Jove," said Jones, then added quickly, "What about the second bullet, then? I don't happen to possess that, too, do I?"
"No, for there was no second bullet."
"No second bullet!" I exclaimed, remembering the stress he had laid on that fact.
"No," he returned coolly, "there was no second bullet because—he took the trouble to remove it before he fired the cartridge."
My mind remained appalled before the contemplation of the devilish ingenuity of this man, who could plan the murder with such diabolical cunning. No wonder we were finding it a difficult matter to secure proof against him! Who was he? Was he someone I knew or a stranger who had hitherto remained unsuspected by us? Did McKelvie have any idea of the man's identity, or was he also groping in the dark? Persistently I discarded the thought of Dick, even though the ring was his, and Jones' description of the criminal fitted the boy, for I could not believe that he could have become such a fiend, unless indeed he had suddenly lost all sense of proportion and balance.
It was at this point in my meditations that Jones arose and declared that he must be going, but McKelvie refused to listen to him. He liked Jones, even though the two were so often on opposite sides of the case they were investigating.
"Stay for dinner," McKelvie urged. "I owe you that much anyhow. Also, I may need you. And now I wish you fellows would cease worrying about the criminal's identity and put your faculties to work on a more pressing subject. Where do you suppose he has hidden Cora Manning?"
Where, indeed, with the whole of New York to choose from.
We were enjoying our after-dinner cigars when McKelvie suddenly gave a shout. "Eureka!" he cried. "I've got it. She's at Riverside Drive. What an idiot I was not to think of it before."
"How do you make that out?" asked Jones.
"Lee thought he heard a step on the walk and assumed that it was the girl leaving the grounds. He hurried to the gate, but when he looked around there was no one in sight. If she had really left the place he would have been in time to see her as she walked down the block. There would be no place for her to disappear to unless she jumped in the river, which would hardly be likely."
"She may have hidden in the grounds and have waited for Lee to go away first," I objected.
"She did not know he was there and would have no reason then for hiding. No, no, she's at the Darwin house. It was the easiest place to hide her in, safe and secure, and it would not involve his having to take anyone into his confidence. The house, doubtless, has more than one secret room. We'll go out there now, and in an hour we'll have her free."
"Do you want a taxi?" asked Jones.
"No, we'll use the subway this time," replied McKelvie.
We walked to Union Square and took the Broadway Subway to Dyckman Street, walking from there to Riverside Drive. As we entered the Darwin grounds I paused to admire the brilliancy of the stars, and noticed how the reflection of the lights from the river craft twinkled in the waters of the Hudson as if in friendly rivalry.
But my companions did not wait to look at the scenery, and I had to hurry to catch up with them.
"We'll go in the back entrance again," said McKelvie. "I want to question Mason."
After a slight delay the old man admitted us and McKelvie asked him if he ever took occasion to go into the main wing of the house.
"Yes, sir. I have been in twice, sir, to open the windows and air the place against Mrs. Darwin's coming home," he replied.
"And while you were there did you hear any sounds, a person walking, for instance?" continued McKelvie.
Mason looked at him in great surprise. "Oh, no, sir. There is no one in the house now, sir."
"Is there an attic to the house?"
"Yes, sir; but I'm sure there's no one there. I went in yesterday morning to put away Mr. Darwin's things, sir."
"Have you any provisions in the house?" was the next question.
"Yes, sir, for myself."
"Prepare some broth for me, please. I'll send for it when I want it."
"Yes, sir."
"What's the idea? Do you think she's starving, too?" asked Jones, as we crossed the passageway and entered the main hall.
"Does he strike you as the kind that would be gentle with his prisoners? We'll ransack the whole house from attic to cellar, despite Mason's assertions."
We ascended the broad staircase to the second floor. McKelvie then apportioned the back rooms to Jones, the front ones to me, and reserved for himself the whole third floor, which was mostly the attic. My part comprised the sleeping apartments of Ruth as well as Darwin's suite.
I entered Ruth's rooms first, but did not remain in them long, since every article spoke to me of the girl I loved and who was at this moment enduring the hardness of a narrow cot in a barred and grated cell instead of enjoying the comforts to which she had been always accustomed, and all this because she had been accused of a crime that she was utterly incapable of committing.
Darwin's suite of dressing-room, bedroom, and bath were also unproductive of any clues to Cora Manning's whereabouts, although once I thought I detected a faint odor of rose jacqueminot and wondered idly whether Darwin, too, had caught the epidemic.
Out in the hall I encountered Jones.
"Nothing doing," he said. "Besides, she wouldn't be lying around loose, or that old butler would have come across her, unless he was lying. For my own part, I think this is a wild goose chase."
Before I could reply McKelvie descended from the attic. "Would you mind talking in a lower key," he remarked in a whisper. "I could hear you distinctly upstairs, Jones, and if the criminal should come here, we would frighten him off for good."
"You don't mean to tell me he'd have the nerve to come here!" exclaimed Jones.
"He's come here more than once, as Mr. Davies and I can prove," he returned, drawing us into a room and closing the door. "Don't you suppose he comes here to see the girl? It's my opinion he is trying to break her into going away with him, though I can't see what is to stop him from drugging her and carrying her away."
He walked to the window and looked out into the night. "She's not in the attic. There's no secret room up there; yet I'm positive she's in the house. He wouldn't come back for anything less important, though I did think once that he had a hiding-place in the room behind the safe. You remember that I was looking for it the night we found Dick's ring," he continued, more to himself than to us. Then he turned away from the window, his eyes shining, "Lord, I'm growing dull! Do you recall, Mr. Davies, that we heard steps on the stone staircase and that when I opened the door and turned my flash on the stairs they were empty and the door below locked?"
I nodded, and he went on quickly, "It never occurred to me before, but he must have vanished into a second secret room off those stairs. Come on, I'll bet that's where he's got her hidden."
At the door, however, he paused to issue final instructions. "Go softly and obey me implicitly. Also don't talk, and have your gun handy, Jones, in case of need."
We tiptoed down the stairs and crossed the hall to the study door, which McKelvie opened slowly and silently. The room was dark. With the aid of his flash we walked down the length of the room to the safe, our footfalls deadened by the thickness of the carpet. Then McKelvie manipulated the dial and opened the safe. It was Jones' first initiation into the mysteries of the entrance, and I pulled him down to a stooping position as we passed through to the secret room. Then we crossed to the door at the head of the stairs and McKelvie listened intently before he inserted his key in the lock. Then he turned to us.
"Stay here," he whispered. "When I locate the room I'll call to you. If anyone comes in that lower door, don't hesitate to shoot, Jones."
Jones and I obeyed and stood together in the darkness, watching the disk of light from McKelvie's flash dart here and there along the walls as McKelvie descended the stairs. Then the ray of light rested upon the wall into which the staircase had been built and which extended about three feet beyond the lowest step, that is, extended the length of the distance between the bottom of the staircase and the outer door, which, being but two feet in width, had plenty of margin with which to swing inwards. On this three feet of wall space the light danced up and down as McKelvie hunted for indications of a second secret room. Then we heard him calling to us softly.
We descended the stairs cautiously, and when we neared the bottom McKelvie pressed a depression which he pointed out to us. We saw a section of the wall disappear from view and the ray of light rested on the interior of a dark room. McKelvie stepped through first and called:
"Miss Manning, are you there?" he asked.
There was no answer, and telling us not to advance further, he disappeared into the darkness. We strained forward to look, and I distinctly smelled a musty, damp odor, as though the room or cell, or whatever it was, had been used as a vault, or maybe a tomb.
Then McKelvie came out again and swung the panel into place. He shivered slightly. "It's empty, but there are indications of a trap door in the ceiling. What is the room directly above this end of the study?"
"Darwin's dressing-room," I replied.
"Any windows on this side?"
"No."
"Just as I thought. There is a room above that vault. We'll try the second floor. I trust we are not too late," he added as we returned to the study. There we waited while McKelvie relocked the entrance, and when he was ready to lead the way upstairs again, Jones spoke in a troubled whisper.
"What's the idea of building a house with holes in the wall? It's a regular rat-trap," he said.
"I have a book at home that I'll have to lend you, Jones. The man who built this house was a nut on old-fashioned ideas. He copied an ancestral home, secret rooms and all. Not that he meant to use them, of course, but because it suited him to put them in. The one I just examined was used in ancient times, I think, to receive the bodies of those who fell through the trap door from the room above. A convenient way of getting rid of your enemy, that is all."
"This criminal of yours seems very familiar with this house," said Jones.
"Yes, he had been here many times before the murder, and he took pains to learn all he could about the place," returned McKelvie.
"I thought he only learned of the entrance on the night of the murder," I objected.
"Well, what of it. He is clever enough to have deduced what I did. He probably stumbled across the lower room in opening the outer door and then it was mere child's play to discover the room above."
Yes, that part was easy enough, but it was another matter to find the hidden spring that worked the panel. We turned on the light in the room, and divided the wall into three parts, each of us fingering a third carefully and painstakingly from top to bottom. It was Jones finally who stumbled on the spring. He had pressed the center of one of the mahogany flowers that formed the carved border of the dash-board and silently the panel slid back.
Never shall I forget the sight revealed to my eyes as the light from the dressing-room dispelled slightly the gloom of that interior.
In the center of the narrow room kneeled a young girl, with her dark hair streaming about her shoulders and her pale face raised to heaven as she pressed the barrel of an automatic to her heart. In that attitude of utter renunciation, she was very beautiful, so beautiful that she took away our breath and held us motionless.
That at least was her effect upon Jones and myself, but McKelvie was less susceptible, or perhaps his quick eyes noted a motion that we did not observe. At any rate, he sprang forward and knocked up the pistol. There was a sharp report, and the girl fell forward into his arms in a dead faint.
He carried her into Darwin's bedroom and laid her on the bed. While he worked over her, I descended to the kitchen where Mason was watching the broth McKelvie had ordered him to make.
When I returned she was sitting up, and as she sipped the broth I looked at her again and felt my pulses stirring as I looked into her face. I'm not much of a hand at describing beauty in a woman, and perhaps the greatest compliment I can pay her is to say that though she had suffered and her lustrous black eyes were dull and her face wan and pale, she was beautiful still, and her voice held all the haunting quality of the South in its depths as she told us her story, a story so unusual that it was almost unbelievable.
"I come of a race whose blood is hot and easily provoked," she began in a low voice, "and who consider honor a thing to be cherished and guarded. A year ago I came to New York to study for the stage, which had always been my ambition, and before I left New Orleans my dear old teacher told me to beware of the pitfalls of that great metropolis, which I intended to make my home. In the beginning I followed his advice and was wary, receiving no visitors, although I made many acquaintances. But when one is alone one becomes lonely, and so I permitted two young men to call upon me, since I knew that both of them came from good families. I was playing with fire without realizing it, for the elder of the two, and he was hardly more than a boy, proposed to me when I had known him a month. I did not love him, and I told him so. In a burst of jealousy he accused me of being in love with his rival, and declared that since I would not marry him he cared not what became of him. He would go straight to the devil, he said. I tried to be kind and to reason with him, but he was spoiled and wanted only his own way, so I told him he must not try to see me again, and he never did, for six months ago he left the city for good."
As she paused in her recital, I realized with a shock that she was speaking of Dick Trenton. It was she who had given him the sachet then, and it was she who had been responsible, through the fault of that beauty with which nature had endowed her, for the attitude of devil-may-care, which had made the boy an easy prey to Darwin's fascinations. What a mixed up mess life really was!
"Three months ago I became engaged to Lee Darwin," she continued, "and in an evil hour for both of us, Lee introduced his uncle Philip to me. I knew Mr. Darwin was recently married, and so I deemed his interest in me what he said it was, a natural desire to aid me in my career. He took me to see the best actors and introduced me to one or two managers. Of course, Lee was jealous, but as I was never out with Mr. Darwin alone, and as Lee generally accompanied us, I felt I was doing no wrong, and that he was very inconsiderate to feel that way.
"The real trouble started on the sixth of October when I broke the setting of my engagement ring. I was afraid Lee would think I had been very careless, and I decided to have the ring mended and to say nothing about it. When Mr. Darwin came in unexpectedly that evening with plans for introducing me to an eminent playwright, he noticed that I wasn't wearing the ring, and asked why. I explained the circumstances and asked him to give me the name of a reliable jeweler, whereupon he offered to take it himself to Tiffany's.
"I had no suspicions of him," she said with an appealing glance for her indiscretion. "I gave him the ring."
She rested her voice as she sipped some more of the broth, which I brought up at McKelvie's request.
"The next morning about ten o'clock Lee came to Gramercy Park. His face was pale and his eyes gleaming wildly. He called me names and accused me of a liaison with his uncle, telling me that I might have saved myself the trouble of returning the ring, as he did not want it. Then vowing he would kill his uncle before the day was over, he dashed out, leaving me terrified, cowed.
"But not for long. When I realized Philip Darwin's perfidy I determined to avenge myself for the aspersions he had cast upon my honor. I recalled that Lee had declared that one of Mr. Darwin's assertions had been that I was going to the house on Riverside Drive that night. Very well. I would keep the appointment, and I would tell him I was coming, meeting guile with guile.
"I phoned his office and asked him whether my ring was ready for me. In a voice as false as his heart he apologized for not having taken it as yet to Tiffany's, but said he would return it to me, if I so desired, at dinner time, when he hoped to have the privilege of taking me to the Ritz. I pleaded a previous engagement, and asked him to let me come out to the house that afternoon to get the ring.
"He debated a while and then said that it was locked up in his study, and as he would not be home until late it would be impossible for me to come for it. I said that the lateness of the hour didn't matter, that I must have the ring, for if Lee should learn where it was he would break off the engagement. He inquired if I had seen Lee, and I said, 'Not to-day, but he was asking for it last night, and I put him off with an excuse.'
"Then he said all right, that I could come to the house at quarter to eleven. I wanted to know if there wasn't a window or some other way for me to enter, because I didn't want his wife and servants to know of my call. He laughed and said that I had only to use the secret entrance and no one would be the wiser. He explained how to find it and said he'd leave the doors unlocked for me.
"I had fully intended being at the Darwin house at ten-forty-five, but in thinking the matter over I became frightened. My anger had exhausted itself and I was horrified at my own thoughts. I decided not to go. When ten-thirty struck, however, the memory of all my wrongs swept over me again, coupled with the thought that Lee had threatened to kill his uncle, also. I must get there before my lover, since it was all my fault that he was planning murder. Yet even in my haste I took occasion to lay my plans with care. I would kill Darwin and myself since Lee no longer cared for me. I wrote a confession and put it in my pocket, that I might leave it in Darwin's study, so that no one else need suffer for the crime. It was eleven when I came downstairs, and meeting my landlady I informed her that I was going on a journey and should anyone inquire for me to say that she had no idea where I had gone.
"I took the Subway to Dyckman Street and walked from there to the Darwin home. I slipped into the grounds and around the house to the place where Mr. Darwin had told me there was a door in the masonry. I pushed against the wall, the door gave way, and I found myself at the bottom of a flight of stairs. I closed the door and then climbed the steps, feeling my way in the darkness until my hand came in contact with another door that yielded at my touch. I felt a carpet under my feet and knew I was in a room. I groped my way along until I reached an open space, and collided with what I thought was a bar. I remembered that he had told me to stoop when I passed through the safe. When I straightened up I saw that I was in his study and that the lamp on his table was lighted. At the head of the table sat Philip Darwin asleep. I advanced toward him, taking out my automatic as I walked. When I was close to him I pointed the pistol at him, then staggered back in horror, just as the lamp went out. There was a blood-stain on his shirt-front! Someone had reached him ahead of me!
"In the darkness I fled from him in a panic of fear, thrusting my pistol into the bosom of my dress. Then realizing that I had gone in the wrong direction, I ran back again—straight into the arms of a man! Before I could scream he had flung a cloth over my head and carried me to a couch. How long I remained thus I don't know, but just when I thought I must suffocate, someone removed the cloth, a glass was held to my lips, and Lee said, gently:
"'Drink this and you'll feel better, dear.'
"I thought he had rescued me. I drained the glass. Then I tried to ask where I was, but my head began to feel queer and heavy and my tongue refused its office. I closed my eyes and slipped into a dreamless sleep. When I awoke I could still feel the couch beneath me. I got up and groped my way around until I encountered the light switch. Then I saw that I was in a small carpeted room, which was furnished only with a divan and a smoking-stand. At either end of the room were doors. One of these was locked but the other had been left partly open and gave egress on the stairs that I had climbed.
"I thought of going down again, but felt too shaky to risk it, and returned again to the divan, deciding that I was in the room I had crossed to enter the study by the safe. There was a beautiful Persian cover on the couch and idly I examined it, lifting it clear of the floor. Then it was that I saw something bright shining where the fringe of the cover had swept the floor. I picked up the object and saw that it was a ring, Dick Trenton's ring.
"I knew it was his," she added, her pale cheeks flushing, "because when he proposed to me he wanted to take it off and put it on my finger.
"I gazed on the ring for a long time, trying to solve the mystery into which I had stumbled. Philip Darwin was dead, I was evidently a prisoner, and Dick's ring was in this room. If he had killed Mr. Darwin it was only right that he should pay the penalty. I would keep the ring and when the police found me, if someone else was in prison for the crime I would give them the ring and tell them what I knew.
"I still felt very drowsy, so I put out the light and as I lay down again the thought occurred to me that if Dick should come back while I slept and found the ring in my possession, he would take it away from me. Hastily I conceived a plan. I tied the ring to the fringe of the cover, where it would remain hidden until I could make use of it.
"I was dozing off when a step on the stairs aroused me. Someone came into the room.
"'Dick?' I asked, tentatively.
"He laughed oddly and replied, 'No, not Dick. Lee,' and I felt his arms around me and his kisses on my face.
"I was bewildered. Lee! Why had he drugged me then?
"'Lee,' I cried, 'why am I here?'
"'It's all right, dear. Uncle Phil was murdered and they think you did it.'
"'But I didn't kill him,' I protested, sitting up and pushing him away. 'He was dead when I entered the room!'
"'I know,' he answered. 'But just the same the police are hunting you. That's why I hid you away.'
"I heard him moving around the room, then he came back to me and said, 'You must be thirsty. Drink this.'
"But I was not going to be drugged a second time if I could help it, police or no police, so I said, 'I'm not thirsty, Lee.'
"'That doesn't matter. Drink, I tell you. I'm in a hurry.'
"His voice took on a sinister note as he held the glass forcibly to my lips. I gave his hand a shove, spilling the contents of the glass over him.
"'You she-devil,' he said, and crushed me to him.
"Then he flung the cloth over my head again and almost strangled me. I felt him lift me in his arms and carry me up a flight of steps. He placed me on the floor of a room and went away. I was in that room a long, long time before he came again. I was thirsty and hungry and heartsore to think that he would treat me so, for the room was narrow and bare and I hadn't even a bed to lie upon. My only comfort lay in the fact that my revolver still reposed where I had placed it. I took it out and held it in my hand, for I no longer trusted him.
"The second time he came to see me he opened the panel that formed the door to my cell and I could see his figure silhouetted against the dim light in the further room.
"'Lee!' I exclaimed. 'Why, oh why, have you done this! Is it because you killed your uncle and are afraid that I will tell what I know?'
"He did not answer and I went on: 'Why didn't you listen to my explanation that morning? You would have known then that your uncle only took the ring to have it mended. I do not know what he told you, but whatever it was, he lied.'
"'Did he lie about your coming to see him?' he replied then, in a hard voice. 'Did he? Answer me that, when I saw you enter his study!'
"'Yes, he lied,' I returned. 'I came to kill him and myself for his perfidy. Only you had already shot him. Oh, Lee, Lee, why didn't you listen to my explanation!'
"'I don't believe you. You came because he asked you to, but I got him first. And now your turn has come.'
"He made as if to step toward me and I put the pistol to my breast.
"'If you come any nearer, Lee, I'll kill myself,' I said steadily. 'Oh, to think that I could ever have loved you, you murderer!'
"He drew back. 'You'll pay for this. When you have starved for a couple of weeks you'll be more amenable, I guess,' and he went away laughing.
"I was horrified and I lay and wept for hours. Then as I moved about I discovered a jug of water. For a long time I was afraid to touch it, fearing it was a trap to catch me, but when my thirst got the better of my judgment I drank just enough to satisfy my worst craving. I waited to learn the results, and as I remained clear-headed, I decided the water was pure and hoarded it with care.
"I came to the conclusion that jealousy and its consequences had made Lee mad and that he was not responsible for his actions. Instead of horror, pity filled my heart for I loved him still.
"He did not come near me again until to-night, and then he was more fiendish than ever. He said he must leave the city, that he would come for me to-morrow night, and I could then make my choice between going with him and death. He pressed a button and showed me a yawning hole in the middle of the floor, telling me that he would throw me down into the pit below before he would let me go free to relate to the police what had happened to me. Oh, it was dreadful! I was glad when he was gone.
"I knew that nothing on earth could induce me to go with him, but the thought of falling through that black hole was more than I could bear. As long as I had to die I would choose a less harrowing way. I took out my pistol and was just going to kill myself when you flung up the barrel and rescued me."
She gave McKelvie a tremulous smile and burst into tears.
For a space there was silence in the room while McKelvie paced the floor, a worried crease between his brows. As for Jones and myself, we looked from the girl to one another in undisguised perplexity.
How was it possible for Lee Darwin, whom we had rescued from the hands of the criminal at Hi Ling's shop, to be the same person who had kept Cora Manning a prisoner? Or had the boy been merely pretending to be unconscious, and the old man had been a confederate in the game which they were playing to trap McKelvie? Yet, the doctor had said that Lee was really ill, and the doctor could not possibly have any motive for lying, since he had been called in by Jones and was a stranger to us. Again, Cora had said that Lee had come to see her just previous to our rescue of her, and at that time I can swear to it that he was upstairs in one of the rooms in McKelvie's house.
Of course there was always the chance that the young man we had saved was not Lee Darwin at all (though who else he could be I had no idea), for I had only seen him once the day of the inquest, and the others had never laid eyes on him before. To counterbalance that hypothesis, however, was the straightforward story he had told, which tallied point for point with Cora's account. There was some deep mystery here which I for one could not fathom.
"My dear child," said McKelvie presently (from his tone one would have judged him old enough to be her father), "are you sure that you did not dream this tale?"
"Dream it? Oh, no, it was too horribly real for me to have dreamt it," she answered, astonished that he should doubt her.
"I was not referring to the treatment you had received, but to Lee Darwin's connection with your incarceration," he explained. "At the time of which you speak, Lee was himself a prisoner in Chinatown. And to-night he is at my home, ill in bed, too ill to have been able to come here at all."
"Lee—a prisoner? Lee—at your house ill? How can that be?" she asked in wondering tones.
"Miss Manning, did you see this man's face so that you could swear to it?" continued McKelvie earnestly.
"No. It was dark when he spoke to me in the little room, and up here the light behind him was always dim. But I heard his voice, Mr. McKelvie. I could swear it was Lee's," she insisted.
"Voices are easily imitated. He did not talk to you for any great length of time and he was careful that you should not see his face too closely. If he had been Lee he would not have cared how much you saw his features." McKelvie laid a hand on the girl's arm, as he added: "I want you to believe that Lee had nothing to do with this affair. On the contrary, he has done his best to protect you, almost giving his life for your sake. Let me tell you his story briefly. He can fill in the details for you later," and he told her of our trip to Hi Ling's shop.
"I'm so glad," she said, raising tear-filled eyes to his face as he ended. "You see I love him still, even though I thought him—all that was bad. May I see him soon?"
"Yes, but I'm going to ask you to remain in this house to-night. You are not strong enough yet to take a journey in the Subway and I have no desire to use the phone to call a taxi. The criminal may have a means of tapping the wire, for all we know. Now, Miss Manning, are you sure he is coming back to-morrow?"
"Yes, he told me he would return to-morrow night. He said he had to get money enough for our trip in case I should go with him, and that a woman always needed plenty of spare cash. Besides, he'd be sure to come, if only to give me my choice. He would not leave me here alive for someone to discover. He made that very plain to me," she returned, with a shudder.
"Very well, then, we will meet him in your place. I'm going to guard you to-night myself, in case he should change his mind and come again unexpectedly. In the meantime, I wish that you, Mr. Davies, would spend the night at my house to protect Lee. And if you will come around to Stuyvesant Square at ten o'clock to-morrow morning, Jones, I'll give you the other details necessary to catch the murderer in his own little trap."
"Do you want a taxi for to-morrow, then?" asked Jones, as we were leaving.
"Yes, send one around about nine o'clock. Tell him to wait at the corner of Dyckman and Broadway. Or, better yet, send one of your own men with the car, in order that there may be no hitch in our plans."
Jones promised and we returned to town via the Subway, and parted company at Union Square. When I reached McKelvie's house I stopped at Lee's room and found that he was awake. He called to me to know whether I had any news, so I told him the latest developments, watching his face while I talked. He listened eagerly to what I had to say, was unaffectedly glad of the girl's release and thankful to learn that she was safe. His face darkened when I spoke of the impersonation, and he was just as much at a loss as myself to account for it.
When I turned in I had come to one conclusion at least, and that was that Lee had had no hand in the murder, either as principal or as confederate.
At ten o'clock the next morning Jones put in an appearance, but McKelvie had not yet returned, so we occupied ourselves with a discussion of the events of the previous night. Finally we came to the conclusion that Cora Manning in her dazed state had, perhaps, mistaken Dick for Lee, since both were more or less of a height. But in that event, Dick purposely misled her. Why? What reason could he have for such an action, unless indeed, his love for her, coupled with the crime committed in a moment of passionate anger against the man who had injured him, had turned his brain.
When McKelvie arrived he brought Cora Manning with him and asked me to conduct her to Lee. I helped her up the stairs and to the room where Lee was sitting, and as he rose and held out his arms to her I turned away and went back downstairs, where McKelvie was issuing his orders to Jones.
"I want you to bring three men to the house with you, Jones. Be out there at five o'clock and get Mason to let you in the back way. Wait in the passageway for me. Get Grenville to accompany you. Tell him it's important."
"You think you'll be able to catch him?" inquired Jones, as he picked up his hat.
"He has no suspicion of our visit last night. Our rescue of Lee, although in a measure it proves that Mrs. Darwin had nothing to do with the crime, does not in his opinion help us to locate Cora. He only kept Lee at Hi Ling's to prevent him from giving evidence in Mrs. Darwin's behalf. He will come to the house to-night without the least suspicion that there will be anyone there to greet him as he deserves," and McKelvie laughed.
"Then you know who he is?" I inquired, as Jones left the house.
"I still suspect. I shall not know positively until to-night. And now I'm going to get some sleep. Then we will go over to the Darwin bank. I have a mind to see whether that one hundred and fifty thousand dollars is still there."
Taking advantage of the respite, I went back to my own apartments for luncheon, and returned to Stuyvesant Square in my car. Evidently in McKelvie's mind Cunningham was still under suspicion, yet I could hardly credit that it was Cunningham who had kept the girl a prisoner. He did not resemble Lee.
When we arrived at the bank Mr. Trenton turned us over to Raines, who conducted us to the safe-deposit vault.
"Do you know whether Cunningham was in to-day?" asked McKelvie.
"No, I don't. One of the tellers might be able to tell you," responded Raines.
"Never mind. The strong box will tell me all I want to know," McKelvie answered.
We approached Cunningham's box and Raines inserted his key in the lock. As he pulled it open I leaned closer to look at the interior. Then I gave an exclamation of astonishment. The box was empty! The one hundred and fifty thousand dollars in bills was gone!
It was two days ago that we had interviewed Cunningham and he did not then contemplate removing the money from the bank. What had occasioned this sudden need for so much cash? I could think of only one reason. His must be the master mind that had conceived the crime and struck the blow against Darwin, even though he had since hired confederates to aid him in his scheme of holding Cora, as he had done in the case of Lee.
I spoke my thought to McKelvie as we drove back to his home, but he shook his head.
"The criminal had no confederates to aid him against the girl. He has played a lone hand all through with one exception, that is, in the case of Lee."
"Then why did he remove that money from the bank?" I asked.
"Perhaps he is going on that trip he was telling us about the other night," responded McKelvie cynically, and I knew by his tone that he himself did not believe any such thing.
"A trip which will end before it has begun, since it's very apparent his only reason for flight must be that he killed Philip Darwin," I said with a laugh.
"Oh, no," responded McKelvie, coolly, "he is clever and unprincipled, and all kinds of a blackguard, and I wouldn't be at all surprised if he had a couple of murders to his name, but this I do know. He did not murder Philip Darwin."
When we drove into the grounds of the Darwin home at five o'clock that night, McKelvie ordered me to hide my car behind the garage and then to join him in the passageway. As I obeyed I saw him helping Lee, with Cora's aid, to mount the steps to the back door, for he wanted the two of them for purposes of identification, since both had been victims of the unprincipled man we had come there to-night to try to trap.
I parked my car where it could not be seen by anyone approaching the house and then returned to the servants' wing and entered the passageway, where McKelvie was disposing of his forces. The three burly policemen that Jones had brought with him McKelvie ordered to remain where they were until it grew dark, when they were to hide themselves in the grounds, toward the side of the house. When they saw a light in the study they were then to group themselves around the door to the secret entrance, which he had already pointed out to one of their number while I was parking my car. If anyone came out through this door they were to arrest that person, and under no circumstances to let him get away, even if they had to shoot him. The men saluted and I could see by the determination written on their faces that the criminal would have small chance of escaping their vigilance.
Then McKelvie opened the door into the main wing and asked Cora and Lee to remain in Orton's workroom until they were needed.
"And under no circumstances show a light of any kind," he added. They did not need to promise, for they preferred a darkened room in which to tell each other the sweet nothings that lovers are fond of murmuring, and I envied them their happiness as I thought of Ruth shut away where even my loving care could not reach her.
In the fading daylight the study was dim, but we managed to make out the outlines of the furniture, and so were able to move about without turning on the lamp. McKelvie grouped some chairs around the table and told us to seat ourselves, since at that distance we could not be seen by the criminal as he stepped from the safe. Then McKelvie arranged the shades, drawing them so that they did not quite reach the bottom of the windows, thus allowing the light to gleam through later, as a signal to the waiting policemen.
When everything was ready McKelvie spoke to us in an undertone. "I do not know how long we shall have to wait for him. He will come when it is dark, perhaps, and again he may not turn up until midnight. In any event, whether our vigil be long or short, I want to impress upon you the necessity for absolute silence. A false move and we may lose every advantage and the criminal as well."
We declared ourselves ready to obey his instructions, however long we might have to wait, and he crossed the room and took up his position beside the safe door with the metal handcuffs in his hand, prepared to snap them on the wrists of the man who should come forth from the entrance.
I glanced at Jones and Grenville and saw to my amusement that the police detective was sound asleep. He reminded me of a watchdog that though he might doze would yet be instantly on the alert at the least hint of danger. The District Attorney caught my look and smiled, then he leaned back in his chair and set himself to wait with what patience he might possess.
I turned to my thoughts, thankful that McKelvie had spared Mr. Trenton this ordeal, for now that Cunningham was exonerated, the burden of the crime must fall upon Dick, who, after all, was the only one well enough acquainted with circumstances to have attempted the schemes which McKelvie had foiled. Yet it seemed such a mad thing to do, to put his head in the noose a second time when he had just been cleared of his first crime, unless James Gilmore's story was all of a piece with the other deceptions Dick had practised upon us. Who was Gilmore any way? Had we any proof that his story was true? He may have been paid to put us off the scent by making us believe that Dick could not commit another crime since he was innocent of the first one. But, again, there was McKelvie's statement that with the exception of the Chinamen and those two ruffians, the criminal had steered clear of confederates. I could not divine Dick's motive for the deed, since the murder was not and never had been, one of impulse.
I wished heartily that the whole thing was over and this suspense ended, yet when the lamp suddenly lighted on the table and I knew that the hour was at hand, since it must have been the criminal's hand that had pressed the switch in the safe, I closed my eyes. I did not want to see the door swing open and Dick step out of that safe.
I heard a metallic click as McKelvie snapped on the handcuffs, and I opened my eyes with a start as I realized by the snarl of rage that had come from the murderer's lips that we had caught the man as neatly as one traps a wild and dangerous animal.
McKelvie laughed as he slammed the door of the safe, and the three of us rose precipitately (Jones had wakened when the lamp went on), for we could make out the criminal's figure as he came rapidly toward us. When he stood within the circle of light, confronting the muzzle of Jones' gun, I looked into his face, then I gasped audibly.
The man before me was not Dick, but the lawyer—Cunningham!
"This is an outrage!" he exclaimed furiously. "What do you mean by putting such an indignity upon me?" and he glared at McKelvie.
McKelvie smiled in an exasperating manner. "I was expecting the criminal to come through that entrance, since he alone possesses a key to it. I saw a man appear and clapped on the bracelets. It happened to be you. How do you explain the circumstance?" he inquired politely.
"Very easily," retorted Cunningham coolly, recovering his poise, "I was going over a lot of old papers and came across a sealed envelope addressed to me in Darwin's hand. Wondering what it could portend I opened it. Inside I found a small key and the explanation of the secret of the entrance. Darwin also went on to say that he was taking me into his confidence in case anything should ever happen to him. Having a fondness for amateur detective work, like yourself, Mr. McKelvie," here he bowed ironically to McKelvie, "I decided to use the opportunity which fate had bestowed upon me to do a little investigating on my own account."
"Very ingenious, but it won't do," returned McKelvie, adding with a sarcastic inflection, "I suppose he also told you the six-letter combination that I used to lock the safe—after he was dead?"
Cunningham flushed and bit his lip, but before he could think of an appropriate retort, McKelvie had turned to Jones.
"You won't need to use that gun, Jones," he said with a twinkle. "Our prisoner is too valuable to shoot—as yet. Call in the others, please, and light the room as you pass the switch."
Jones pocketed his gun, and departed on his errand, lighting the study, as we had agreed to do, for the guidance of the men outside. In a second he was back again with Lee and Cora. As Cunningham's eyes rested on the girl, who had her arm around Lee and was helping him tenderly to a chair, the man's face darkened and his eyes blazed upon her.
"Miss Manning, have you ever seen this man before?" asked McKelvie when Lee was seated and Cora had turned toward us.
The girl looked Cunningham up and down, from the sole of his patent leather shoes to the crown of his gray-streaked red hair, then she shook her head and answered simply, "No, Mr. McKelvie, I have never seen him before."
"Now I trust that you are satisfied?" demanded Cunningham, insolently, a gleam of triumph in his eyes. "You will oblige me by removing these things."
Though he held out his manacled hands to McKelvie, his eyes remained on Cora's face with a look impossible to mistake. The man was in love with her, though how that was possible when she did not know him, I was at a loss to decide. McKelvie took a step forward and I thought he was going to comply with Cunningham's request, but he made no move to release his prisoner.
"Sorry to have to refuse a gentleman of your standing, but you are far safer to me with the bracelets on," returned McKelvie imperturbably. "You are undoubtedly clever or you could not have evaded me so long, but the trouble with you, as it is with all clever criminals, is that you are egotistical. You commit a crime and get away with it and then you immediately think yourself a genius, so much more wonderful than your fellows who have paid the penalty for their deeds, so infinitely superior to the police and the detectives that you have no fear of being caught. But like all your class, there is a weak joint in your armor. There is no such thing as an infallible criminal and a perfect crime. You may get away once, or perhaps a score of times, but in the end your weakness trips you and you fall into the hands of the authorities. In your case the thing that tripped you and delivered you to us was—love for a woman. A dangerous game to play, the woman game, Mr. Cunningham, but love knows no reason. You were so desperately infatuated with Cora Manning that the thought of going away and leaving her to a more successful rival was agony to you, and so you remained to persuade her to go with you. That is why you are here now, facing arrest under an accusation of murder."
In wondering silence we listened to McKelvie's words and Cora said quickly, "In love with me? But I never saw him before."
Cunningham only smiled coolly. "You have no proof, my dear sir, no proof at all."
"Haven't I? I am not as amateurish as I look," said McKelvie, dryly. Then he faced the man before him squarely and addressed him in a tone of grim earnestness from which all hint of banter had fled. "You demand proofs. I will give them to you. I know why the murder was committed, why Mrs. Darwin was implicated, because I know exactly what took place in this room on the night of October seventh, from the moment when Richard Trenton stepped through that French window to the moment when the murderer left the room by the secret entrance. In other words, the game is up—Mr. Philip Darwin!" and McKelvie's hand shot out toward his prisoner's face.
I heard Lee's wondering, "Uncle Phil?" and unable to believe my ears I took a second look. Then, "Good God!" I cried, for the red hair and beard were gone and the man standing where Cunningham had been was indeed Ruth's husband, for whose murder she was even now enduring the horrors of prison life, Philip Darwin, but Philip Darwin without his eyeglasses and without his beard!
Who, then, was the man we had found dead in this room, the man we had buried under Darwin's name? A sudden conviction borne of McKelvie's last words flashed across my mind.