don’t think he will do that, Anne,” I said very gently, for I couldn’t think it; and yet her despairing tone alarmed me more than if she had been angry or deeply disturbed.
And then the others joined us, and the conversation became general. But, seemingly by tacit consent, the subject of the crime or the coming of the new detective was not touched upon. Even Mrs. Stelton seemed to feel the restraint that was upon us all, and for once refrained from making her usual flippant and ill-timed observations. The party broke up early, and we all went to our rooms. The men did not congregate in the smoking-room as usual, but parted on the landing with brief good-nights.
I, for one, felt heavy of heart. Anne’s definite speech had frightened me, and I wondered if in sending for Stone I had precipitated the very calamity I wished to avert. But it was too late now for regret. I had put the matter in other hands, and I must abide by the consequences. And yet though I could still hope for Anne’s innocence, though my heart still whispered, “Anybody but Anne!” I was far from having the same confidence that I had felt earlier in the day.
The next morning Fleming Stone came. The moment I saw him, I was glad I had summoned him. He looked so strong, so capable, and so resourceful, that I knew instinctively he would reach the truth. And, after all, it was the truth we wanted—or ought to want.
We congregated in the drawing-room to meet him, and his reception was more like that of an honored guest than an official detective. He greeted each one individually and with the utmost cordiality and kindness. But after a few polite commonplaces of conversation, he rose alertly and declared himself ready to begin the business in hand.
“I assume I have the freedom of the house,” he said, turning to Anne, who responded merely by a bow.
She was frightened, I could see that, and yet there was nothing in Fleming Stone’s manner to inspire alarm. Indeed, he looked at her with an intent admiration, as he had done on his former visit, and I realized that he would give her every possible benefit of doubt
“I shall go to the study first,” he said, “and I should like to be accompanied only by Mr. Sturgis and Mr. Markham. After my investigations there, I may want to ask some questions of the rest of you.”
I wanted to feel that Stone was taking me with him because I might be of some assistance, but this vain hope was quickly shattered.
“I want you with me, Mr. Sturgis,” he said, as we entered the study and he closed the door, “first, because you are my employer; and also because you are the only one of this household who cannot possibly be implicated in this crime.”
I suppose I looked my amazement, for he went on, “That does not mean that all the rest are implicated, but you are the only one who I know is not.”
“How do you know that, Mr. Stone?”
“First, from the letter you wrote me, which leaves you free of suspicion, while it leaves every one else open to the possibility of it. Second, because you had no motive for the deed.”
“But I—”
“You needn’t finish; I know you are deeply attracted to Mrs. Van Wyck, but you would not murder her husband in order to win her, and then send for me to come out here to discover the criminal!”
“No, I wouldn’t,” I replied, almost smiling at the way he put it. “And now, Mr. Stone, if I can help you in any way, I shall be only too glad.”
“I think I shall not require help, thank you; I ask only freedom from interruption, and, possibly, answers to occasional questions.”
If the words were a trifle curt, the tone was not at all so, and I willingly sat down, content to watch the great man at his work.
Mr. Markham, also, watched Stone intently, and even offered suggestions now and then. But these, Stone dismissed with a mere word or two,—often with only a wave of his hand.
As I had surmised he would do, he scrutinized every part of the room; at first with sweeping glances, and then focussing his attention on various details. I had told him in my letter of the security with which the room was locked and bolted on the inside, and he examined all the fastenings of doors and windows with utmost care and interest.
“I think I can safely say,” he remarked, “that I have never seen a room apparently so absolutely impossible of ingress. And yet some one entered and left while it was thus bolted and barred.”
“It was not a suicide, then?”
“Certainly not. It was a case of wilful murder.”
“Committed by an intruder?”
“Yes; by an intruder of exceeding cleverness, of marvellously cool nerve, and—”
“And of great physical strength?” I prompted.
“Not necessarily,” said Stone, looking sharply at me. “I don’t deduce especial strength.”
I felt ashamed, for I realized in a sudden flash that I had said that hoping to learn that his thoughts were not directed toward Anne.
“What—what did this intruder do with the weapon he used?” I stammered, partly to hide my confusion.
“He left it behind him, in plain view of every one. I fear, Mr. Sturgis, you are unobservant.”
“Wait a moment,” I cried, stung by his evident scorn of what we had done, or, rather, what we had failed to do. “Do you mean to tell me that the weapon is even now in this room?”
“It is; and in plain sight.”
“Don’t tell me where; let me find it for myself,” I cried, gazing wildly around.
“Find it if you can, but as you have overlooked it all these days, how can you expect to see it now?”
“I’m completely mystified,” I said. “We searched this room so carefully for the pearls, that I would have sworn we must have found a weapon, had there been any to find. Show it to me, Mr. Stone.”
“There it is;” and Fleming Stone pointed quietly to a bill-file which stood on the desk. It was of the ordinary type, with a heavy bronze standard and a long, sharp, upright spike. The bills and papers on it reached nearly to the top, but as soon as my attention was drawn to it, I realized that with the bills removed it would indeed be a deadly weapon, and would correspond in every way to the weapon which the doctor declared must have been used.
“I can only suppose,” I said, “that it escaped our attention because of its very obviousness.”
“Not only that,” said Stone, “but it was inconspicuous, being nearly covered with the bills; and, moreover, you looked only for a definite weapon, and not for an ordinary implement used as one.”
“How did you come to notice it so quickly?”
“Because you had told me no weapon could be found, with the exception of the possible stiletto. And that did not greatly impress me, for no one would leave evidence of a crime in so simple a hiding-place. Even now I believe that bill-file to be the criminal’s weapon, only because I can discover no other. But let us look at it. If we find a particle of blood-stain on the papers, I think we may have no
