PROBING A MYSTERY.
It was true.
Everybody in society, and a great many who were not knew the name of
Madge Hurd Babbington; knew about the remarkable beauty and talent of
the young woman who had formerly been an actress, but who had married
from the stage into the very elite of society; who had speedily divorced
her first husband and married a second one, who had died within a year
afterward.
Both her husbands were supposed to be rich, but the first one had so
cleverly arranged his wealth that in the divorce proceedings the
plaintiff had been able to secure but very little; and it was found
after the death of her second husband that his supposedly large fortune
had dwindled to little or nothing.
Since her widowhood Mrs. Babbington’s name had been linked with several
in a supposed approaching marriage, but Nick could not remember that he
had read anywhere that Lynne was one of them.
As for the woman herself, nothing had ever been whispered against her in
any form that the detective could recall, and he thought to himself
that, if Lynne had really been with her all that time and could
establish that fact, it would prove an effectual barrier to all the
suspicions he felt, yet did not want to feel.
“Where were you?” he asked, after a moment of thought.
“We attended a reception at the home of Madame de Seville.”
“Was Miss Lynne at that reception?”
“She was.”
“Who was her escort, if she had one?”
“I took her there myself.”
“Did you also take her home again?”
“I did.”
“At what time?”
“She complained of not feeling well, and it was, I should say, about
midnight, when she sought me out and asked me to send her home. I took
her to the car that was waiting, and entered it with her. I drove home
with her.”
“Did you enter the house with her?”
“No. She said it was unnecessary. I returned at once to the reception.”
“Did you see her enter the house?”
“No. I have thought about that since this--this terrible thing has
happened. I supposed I had seen my daughter enter her home, but, as I
recall it now, I only saw her mount the steps in front of it. I did not
actually see her enter the house.”
“You took your daughter to the reception with you--was Mrs. Babbington
with you at that time?”
“No. It had been arranged that we were to meet at Madame de Seville’s.
It was my intention to take them both in my car when we came away.”
“Then your daughter was aware of the engagement between you and Mrs.
Babbington?”
“If you will pardon me for just one word of protest, Mr. Carter, I
confess that I do not in the least see what all this private matter has
to do with the subject in hand.”
“Did your daughter know about the engagement?” Nick asked again, without
a change of his tone.
“She did not,” replied Lynne, with just a little show of heat. “It was
my intention to tell her about it last night. The fact that she did not
feel well, and that she wished to return home early, spoiled that
intention.”
“Miss Lynne was well enough to start for the reception, but not well
enough to remain, so I assume that she became ill after she arrived
there--or do you suppose that she only pretended to be ill?”
“In the light of what has happened since, I can only suppose that she
purposely deceived me, since in some manner, as soon as she parted with
me, she must have started for Pleasantglades, though why----”
“What is there, at Pleasantglades, that could have drawn her there last
night?”
“Nothing. Not a thing in the world that I know about.”
“Nothing that you can surmise?”
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
“When you returned to the reception after leaving your daughter at the
door of your own home, did you remain there?”
“No; truth to tell, I did not.”
“What did you do, and where did you go?”
“Really, Mr. Carter, one would suppose----”
“We need suppose nothing at all, Mr. Lynne. You agreed to reply to my
questions.”
“But all this is so preposterous.”
“Do you keep all your promises as unwillingly as you are adhering to
this one?” Nick asked sharply.
“You are making it rather hard for me, Mr. Carter.”
Nick turned quickly to the man, and said sharply:
“Lynne, do you wish to be charged with the murder of your own daughter?
If not, answer my questions.”
“My God, Carter, what do you mean by that?”
“Just what I say. Who is there but yourself who could have induced
Edythe Lynne to go to Pleasantglades after midnight last night? Do you
know such a man?”
“No, no; I do not.”
“Then reply to my questions. What did you do, and where did you go, when
you returned to the reception after leaving your daughter?”
“I sought Mrs. Babbington at once, and told her about Edythe. I
suggested that we had had enough of the party, and she agreed with me.
She sent for her wraps, and we left there at once.”
“Where did you go?”
“To her home.”
“It was then what time?”
“Approximately one o’clock; perhaps a trifle later. I am not sure.”
“You entered the house with her?”
“I did. There is, on the first floor, a room that she calls her ‘cozy
room,’ and we seated ourselves in there. We were talking over our
future plans, and time passed more swiftly than I supposed. It was
nearly three o’clock before I was aware of it. I left there, then, and
went home.”
“In your car? Was that waiting for you?”
“No. I had sent that on to the garage. I told the chauffeur that I would
not need him again. Surface transportation and the subway were
sufficient.”
“You arrived home, you say, at three o’clock?”
“Approximately that, yes.”
“When I called upon you this morning you were preparing to go to
Pleasantglades?”
“I was.”
“What was the business that was taking you there?”
“Nothing of importance. You probably do not know it, but there is a
burglar-proof vault beneath the north wing of the house at
Pleasantglades. It was built there, when that wing was built, five years
ago. The existence of it has been kept a secret. In that vault are some
heirlooms and jewels, and other things of value--in fact, there is a
fortune there, Mr. Carter, in jewels, securities, and bonds.”
“You were going there this morning, then, to visit that vault?”
“Yes.”
“For no other reason?”
“No; to tell you the truth there are some jewels there which I wished to
present to my fiancée to-day. It happens to be her birthday. That was
the reason for my proposed visit.”
“Your daughter knew of the existence of the vault?”
“Of course.”
“And what it contains?”
“No, only in a general way.”
“Mr. Lynne, who has had charge of the keys to the lock on the iron gate,
at Pleasantglades? or where were they kept?”
“I always kept them in my own possession--there are three of them, and
you use one after another in opening the lock.”
“I know. Where are those keys now?”
“I do not know.”
“You don’t know? Why don’t you know?”
“I thought I knew exactly where they were until after you had gone from
my house this morning. But when I went to get them, they were not in the
place where I keep them. They had disappeared--and there is only one
explanation: my daughter must have taken them.”
“Again, where did you keep them?”
“In a small safe in my own sleeping room.”
“A combination safe?”
“Yes.”
“Did Edythe know that combination?”
“Yes.”
“How is that?”
“How is what?”
“How does it happen that she knew the combination of that private safe,
in your sleeping room, where doubtless you kept things of an exceedingly
private nature?”
“Oh, as to that, there is nothing so very private in that safe. Edythe
knew the combination, because it was only yesterday that I had occasion
to send her to the safe for some papers I wanted, and I gave her the
combination at that time.”
“Has she never known it before?”
“I don’t think so.”
“What sort of locks are on the doors of that vault you have partly
described, at Pleasantglades?”
“There are two combination locks on the outer doors, two more on the
inner doors.”
“So it requires the knowledge of four combinations to get into the
vault?”
“Yes.”
“Did Edythe know those combinations?”
“She did at one time. Whether she remembered them or not, I could not
say.”
“How did it happen that she knew them at all?”
“She wrote them down for me in the little book where I keep them. I
remember now, at that time I suggested to her that it would be well if
she kept copies of them, in case anything should happen to me, and I
think she did so, although the subject has never been mentioned between
us since that time.”
“Wouldn’t it have been better to have deposited copies of the
combinations with your bankers, or in one of your safe-deposit boxes in
the city, to be used in case of accident to yourself?”
“I suppose so. In fact, that has been done; but I did not think of it at
the moment. I preferred that Edythe should hold the secret herself.”
“I see,” said Nick. “Well, perhaps it was as well.”