He was of a simple, straightforward nature, and a wise and noble gentleman.”
“Yet you were not entirely fond of your uncle,” insinuated the Chief.
“He was not my uncle,” returned Olive, calmly. “I called him that but he was no relation to me. He used to be a college chum of my father’s and when both my parents died, he became not only my guardian but my kind friend and benefactor. He took me to live with him, and I have been his constant companion for twelve years. During that time, I have seen no act, have heard no word that could in the slightest way reflect on his honor or his character as a business man or as a gentleman.”
The girl spoke proudly, as though glad to pay this tribute to her guardian, but still, there was no note of affection in her voice, – no quiver of sorrow at her loss.
“Yet you are not bowed with grief at his death,” observed Martin.
The dainty chin tilted in indignation. “Mr. Martin,” Olive said, “I cannot believe that my personal feelings are of interest to you. I understand I am here to be questioned as to my knowledge of facts bearing on this case.”
The Chief nodded his head. “That’s all right,” he said, “but I must learn all I can of Mr. Gately’s life outside his bank as well as in it. If you won’t give me information I must get it elsewhere.”
The implied threat worked.
“I do indeed sorrow at Mr. Gately’s tragic fate,” Olive said, gently. “To be sure, he was not my kin, but I admired and deeply respected him. If I did not deeply love him it was his own fault. He was most strict and tyrannical in his household, and his lightest word was law. I was willing enough to obey in many matters, but it annoyed and irritated me when he interfered with my simplest occupations or pleasures. He permitted me very little company or amusement; he forbade many of my friends the house; and he persistently refused to let me accept attentions from men, unless they were certain ones whom he preferred, and – whom I did not always favor.”
“Did he favor Amory Manning?” was the next abrupt question.
Olive’s cheeks turned a soft pink, but she replied calmly. “Not especially, though he had not forbidden Mr. Manning the house. Why do you ask that?”
“Had you noticed anything unusual lately about Mr. Gately? Any nervousness or apprehension of danger?”
“Not in the least. He was of a most equable temperament, and there has been no change of late.”
“When did you last see him – alive?”
“Yesterday afternoon. I went to his office to get some money.”
“He has charge of your fortune?”
“Yes.”
“He made no objection to your expenditures?”
“Not at all. He was most just and considerate in my financial affairs. He gave me then what I asked for, and after a very short stay I went on.”
“Where?”
“To the house of a friend on Park Avenue, where I spent most of the afternoon.”
“At what time were you in Mr. Gately’s office?”
“I don’t know exactly. About two o’clock, I think.”
“Can’t you tell me more positively? It may be important.”
But Olive couldn’t be sure whether she was there before or after two. She had lunched late, and had done some errands, and had finally reached her friend’s home by mid-afternoon.
This seemed to me most plausible, for society young ladies do not always keep strict note of time, but the Chief apparently thought it a matter of moment and made notes concerning it.
Olive looked indifferent, and though she was courteous enough, her whole manner betokened a desire to get the examination over and to be allowed to go home.
After a little further tedious questioning, which, so far as I could see, elicited nothing of real importance, the Chief sighed and terminated the interview.
Mr. Mason and Mr. Talcott had by this time arrived, and their presence was welcomed by Miss Raynor, who was apparently glad of the nearness of a personal friend.
Of course, their evidence was but a repetition of the scenes I had been through the day before, but I was deeply interested in the attitudes of the two men.
Talcott, the secretary of the Trust Company, was honestly affected by the death of his friend and president, and showed real sorrow, while Mr. Mason, the vice-president, was of a cold, precise demeanor, seemingly far more interested in discovering the murderer than appalled by the tragedy.
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