After receiving this information Stratton sat alone in his room and
thought deeply over his plans. He did not wish to make a false step, yet
there was hardly enough in the evidence he had secured to warrant his
giving Stephen Roland up to the police. Besides this, it would put the
suspected man at once on his guard, and there was no question but
that gentleman had taken every precaution to prevent discovery. After
deliberating for a long while, he thought that perhaps the best thing he
could do was to endeavour to take Roland by surprise. Meanwhile, before
the meditating man stood Brenton and Speed, and between them there was a
serious disagreement of opinion.
* * * * *
"I tell you what it is," said Speed, "there is no use in our interfering
with Stratton. He is on the wrong track, but, nevertheless, all the
influence we can use on him in his present frame of mind will merely do
what it did before--it will muddle the man up. Now, I propose that we
leave him severely alone. Let him find out his mistake. He will find it
out in some way or other, and then he will be in a condition of mind to
turn to the case of Jane Morton."
"But don't you see," argued Brenton, "that all the time spent on his
present investigation is so much time lost? I will agree to leave him
alone, as you say, but let us get somebody else on the Morton case."
"I don't want to do that," said Speed; "because George Stratton has
taken a great deal of interest in this search. He has done a great deal
now, and I think we should he grateful to him for it."
"Grateful!" growled Brenton; "he has done it from the most purely
selfish motives that a man can act upon. He has done it entirely for his
paper--for newspaper fame. He has done it for money."
"Now," said Speed, hotly, "you must not talk like that of Stratton to
me. I won't say what I think of that kind of language coming from you,
but you can see how seriously we interfered with his work before, and
how it nearly resulted in his departure for Chicago. I propose now that
we leave him alone."
"Leave him alone, then, for any sake," replied Brenton; "I am sure I
build nothing on what he can do anyway."
"All right, then," returned Speed, recovering his good nature. "Now,
although I am not willing to put any one else on the track of Miss Jane
Morton, yet I will tell you what I am willing to do. If you like, we
will go to her residence, and influence her to confess her crime. I
believe that can be done."
"Very well; I want you to understand that I am perfectly reasonable
about the matter. All I want is not to lose any more time."
"Time?" cried Speed; "why, we have got all the time there is. Mrs.
Brenton is acquitted. There is no more danger."
"That is perfectly true, I admit; but still you can see the grief under
which she labours, because her name is not yet cleared from the odium
of the crime. You will excuse me, Speed, if I say that you seem to be
working more in the interests of Stratton's journalistic success than in
the interests of Mrs. Brenton's good name."
"Well, we won't talk about that," said Speed; "Stratton is amply able to
take care of himself, as you will doubtless see. Now, what do you say
to our trying whether or not we can influence Jane Morton to do what she
ought to do, and confess her crime?"
"It is not a very promising task," replied Brenton; "it is hard to get a
person to say words that may lead to the gallows."
"I'm not so sure about that," said Speed; "you know the trouble of mind
she is in. I think it more than probable that, after the terror of the
last few weeks, it will be a relief for her to give herself up."
"Very well; let us go."
The two men shortly afterwards found themselves in the scantily
furnished room occupied by Jane Morton. That poor woman was rocking
herself to and fro and moaning over her trouble. Then she suddenly
stopped rocking, and looked around the room with vague apprehension
in her eyes. She rose and examined the bolts of the door, and, seeing
everything was secure, sat down again.
"I shall never have any peace in this world again," she cried to
herself.
She rocked back and forth silently for a few moments.
"I wish," she said, "the police would find out all about it, and then
this agony of mind would end."
Again she rocked back and forth, with her hands helplessly in her lap.
"Oh, I cannot do it, _I cannot do it_!" she sobbed, still rocking to and
fro. Finally she started to her feet.
"I _will_ do it," she cried; "I will confess to Mrs. Brenton herself. I
will tell her everything. She has gone through trouble herself, and may
have mercy on me."
"There, you see," said Speed to Brenton, "we have overcome the
difficulty, after all."
"It certainly looks like it," replied Brenton. "Don't you think,
however, that we had better stay with her until she _does_ confess? May
she not change her mind?"
"Don't let us overdo the thing," suggested Speed; "if she doesn't, come
to time, we can easily have another interview with her. The woman's
mind is made up. She is in torment, and will be until she confesses her
crime. Let us go and leave her alone."
* * * * *
George Stratton was not slow to act when he had once made up his mind.
He pinned to the breast of his vest a little shield, on which was the
word "detective." This he had often found useful, in a way that is not
at all sanctioned by the law, in ferreting out crime in Chicago. As soon
as it was evening he paced up and down in front of Roland's house, and
on the opposite side of the road. There was a light in the doctor's
study, and he thought that perhaps the best way to proceed was to go
boldly into the house and put his scheme into operation. However, as he
meditated on this, the light was turned low, and in a few moments the
door opened. The doctor came down the steps, and out on the pavement,
walking briskly along the street. The reporter followed him on the other
side of the thoroughfare. Whether to do it in the dark or in the light,
was the question that troubled Stratton. If he did it in the dark, he
would miss the expression on the face of the surprised man. If he did it
in the light, the doctor might recognize him as the Chicago reporter,
and would know at once that he was no detective. Still, he felt that
if there was anything in his scheme at all, it was surprise; and he
remembered the quick gasp of the lawyer Brown when he told him he knew
what his defence was. He must be able to note the expression of the man
who was guilty of the terrible crime.
Having made up his mind to this, he stepped smartly after the doctor,
and, when the latter came under a lamp-post, placed his hand suddenly on
his shoulder, and exclaimed--
"Doctor Stephen Roland, I arrest you for the murder of William Brenton!"