"She was utterly incapable of doing an act like this. What possible
motive could she have?"
I could see that Robinson was rather impatiently waiting for me to go
before continuing his search.
"Well, I ain't found out her motive yet. That can wait. It might have
been money or jealousy."
"Money?" I scoffed. "My sister had plenty; more than she could use.
And as for her being jealous of her husband, that is even more
ridiculous."
The little man eyed me angrily. "I said that the motive could wait.
There's no tellin' what a society woman will do. She may have been
crazy for all I know. But I ain't, and all your arguin' is just so
much time wasted. You think those guys in the automobile done it. I
don't. I think your sister done it. You don't. All right, then, you
take your road and I'll take mine, and we'll see who comes out ahead."
He turned and started back to where he had been hunting when I came up.
"May I ask what you expect to find here?" I queried, walking after him.
"Sure you can ask," he replied. As he found me following, he turned
and snapped: "Say, what the hell are you hangin' around here for,
anyway?"
"I merely wanted to ask what you had discovered about the men in the
black limousine. That's why I stopped."
"Well, you've found out, haven't you? _Nothin'_. All right then, you
go on into the city and see if you can find out anything more!"
I walked on down the sloping bank, searching the ground to see if I
could find the gun that might reveal so much. I could feel the eyes of
the inspector boring into my back.
"What are you looking for?" he demanded.
"A cuff-link," I answered easily. "I think I lost one here last night.
You didn't happen to find it, did you?"
"A cuff-link? Humph!" he grunted. "No, I haven't found it, but I
wouldn't be surprised if I was lookin' for that same cuff-link."
All this time I was searching the bank with my eyes. A scrubby, little
bush overhung the creek and I kicked at it with my foot. There was a
"plopp" as though something heavy had dropped into the water.
Instinctively I knew it was the object for which we were both
searching, and I turned to find the inspector eying me quizzically.
"What was that noise?"
"What noise?" I asked.
"Sounded as though that precious cuff-link of yours had dropped into
the water." He started for me, and as he did so, I bent down quickly
and plunged my arm into the water. My fingers closed on the revolver
just as he came bounding toward me. With a quick shove I pushed it far
into the soft clay of the bank, and, grabbing a rock off the bottom of
the creek, withdrew my arm from the water and slipped the rock into my
pocket. The red-faced little detective was peering over my shoulder as
I turned. Rarely have I seen a man so angry.
"Give me what you pulled out of that creek!" he almost screamed.
"What for, Inspector?" I asked quietly.
"Never mind what for. You give me what you found in that creek, or
I'll--" he grabbed me by the shoulder.
"All right," I said; "all right, Inspector, don't get so excited over
nothing. It's yours." I pulled the muddy rock from my coat pocket and
gravely handed it to him. "It was only an ordinary, every-day rock. I
didn't know you were a geologist."
He pounced on me and ran his fingers over my person. Red-faced, he
surveyed me.
"I ain't a geologist, but I am a criminologist, and just one more of
your monkey tricks like that and I'll put you where you'll have time to
study a lot of rocks and do a lot of thinkin' before bein' funny again.
Now, you get out! Get into that car as quick as you can, if you know
what's good for you!"
Hoping I could retrieve the revolver later, and realizing that nothing
could be gained by staying there longer, I started toward the car. I
had hardly taken five steps when I heard a joyful yell and turned to
see Robinson struggling to his feet, the muddy revolver in his hand.
"Here's your cuff-link," he cried. "Before I'm through you'll find
that this ain't a cuff-link, but a necklace for the neck of that pretty
sister of yours. You, with your Socialists and your cuff-buttons,
tryin' to keep me from gettin' what I go after. Well, it didn't work!
It don't usually, when I go after somethin'. It didn't work, did it?"
"No. It didn't work," I admitted.
"Oh, I don't blame you," Robinson went on, mollified by his success and
the soft tone of my reply; "I'd of done the same thing in your place,
if my sister was a murderer."
The word "murderer" acted like an electric shock on me.
"She didn't do it, I tell you; she couldn't have done it!"
"Now, Mr. Thompson," Robinson began in a soothing voice. "These things
happen in even the best families sometimes. You mustn't take it too
hard."
"Will you let me examine that revolver?" I demanded.
"Why, no. I can't let you examine it. But I'll examine it when I get
ready."
"Will you be so good as to do it now?" I asked.
"What for?"
"Because it may not have been fired at all. That would make things
look entirely different, you know."
The inspector took out the gaudy handkerchief again and wiped the mud
off the barrel and the grip. I had shoved the pistol barrel foremost
into the bank so the muzzle was filled with clay. It was Jim's--a "32"
automatic.
"It won't be spoilin' any evidence by my cleanin' this mud off the
outside, because you put that there yourself," the detective said,
wiping the pistol carefully. He released the spring and pulled out the
clip. I saw a cartridge at the top of the clip and exclaimed:
"There! You see? That gun was never fired!"
The inspector looked at me with a pitying smile.
"Now, that's where you're wrong, Mr. Thompson. You see, you don't know
the inner workings of an automatic. When a gun like this is fired, it
discharges the old shell and a new cartridge comes to the top of the
clip. There are only three cartridges left in this clip."
"Do you mean to say that my sister fired more than one shot?" I asked
sarcastically.
"Not at all, not at all," the little man responded airily. "There were
probably only four cartridges in the gun in the first place. You're
gettin' all excited over this thing. Of course, I don't blame you, Mr.
Thompson, for tryin' to fight against facts, but it certainly looks bad
for sister."
I got into my car and started home, my heart dead within me. It
certainly did look bad for Helen.