A HUSBAND’S LOVE.
When Mrs. Lock had once more regained consciousness, Nick gave her a
stimulant, and let her have plenty of time to come into full possession
of her reasoning faculties before he pressed her further about what she
had seen from Lawyer Woodford’s window.
When he did resume the subject, it was by saying:
“Take time to think the situation over seriously, Mrs. Lock, and then
give me your answer.”
“I can give you your answer now,” she replied, in a voice which was weak
and trembling. “All the answer I have to give?”
“By telling me what you saw from Lawyer Woodford’s window.”
“I do not admit that I saw anything from Lawyer Woodford’s window.”
“But you saw something. You were there when the shot was fired which
killed your cousin. You are probably the only living witness who saw
the deed done.”
“Ah! And yet you expect me to admit it, and tell what I am supposed to
have seen?”
“Yes.”
“And why do you think I would do so, if it was as you suppose?”
“Not if it was as I suppose, but as I know. I’ll tell you why I not only
think but feel sure you’ll conceal nothing from me.”
“Well?”
“Because you’ll do anything to save your husband.”
“To _save_ him?”
The emphasis which she put on the word “save” was a full confession to
the astute detective. She realized it almost as soon as the three words
were uttered.
But Nick’s next sentence somewhat relieved her mind, as well as
mystified her.
“You think you saw him kill Estelle Langdon?”
“I _think_ I saw him. Why----”
Again an accented word had made a confession, and she once more halted
in confusion.
“I am anxious to get at the bottom of a conspiracy of some kind, and I
can do it by having the benefit of your statement of just what happened
in that room as you saw it from across the street.”
“Mr. Carter, you say this to trap me.”
“As Heaven is my judge, Mrs. Lock, I do not.”
“You believe my husband is innocent of that crime?”
“I am sure of it, but circumstances are against him now.”
“They say, Mr. Carter, that you are the soul of honor.”
“If I have that reputation it is earned, and you may rely on it that I
will not sacrifice it at your expense, Mrs. Lock.”
“It seems almost inexplicable to me, but something prompts me to trust
you.”
“I do not believe you will ever regret it, if you do.”
“I’ll do it,” with a great sigh, as if of relief. “Yet the first
statement I make must seem like sending the man I love to his death.”
“You believe you saw your husband fire the shot that killed Estelle
Langdon?”
“Yes.”
“There was nothing to obstruct your view?”
“No--nothing.”
“You were seen to draw back from the window and partly conceal yourself.
Why did you do that?”
“Because I supposed I had been seen by Victor, and it was what I wanted
to avoid.”
“Ah, ha! Now, we are getting onto interesting ground. You did not go to
Woodford’s office, then, for the purpose of spying upon your husband?”
“Surely not. I did not know Woodford’s window commanded a view of
Victor’s office until I saw him come into the room where the girl sat.”
“Why did you go to Woodford’s?”
“To ask his advice and aid.”
“In what?”
“In an attempt at reconciliation with my husband, or to gain possession
of my little girl. I thought I had made some progress in my interview
with Victor, and I sorely needed advice.”
“How did it happen you went to Woodford?”
“I met him at Newport. When he heard I was practically friendless in
America, he gave me his office card and gallantly offered to assist me,
if I ever needed his aid. I had the card with me, and went to the
address.”
“Redway says he saw you as far as the elevated station?”
“So he did, but I left the station without taking the train and went to
hunt up Mr. Woodford.”
“Had you no other friend to whom you could go for advice and aid--one
you knew better?”
“One I knew better? Yes. But not one whom I thought I could trust,
especially in this particular case.”
“Why not in this particular case?”
Mrs. Lock showed a little confusion, while she frankly replied:
“Because the gentleman to whom I had become somewhat attached in a
friendly way, and to whom I gave my confidence, has lately shown a
disposition too much like that of a lover; indeed, he has gone to such
an extent as to propose divorce and then marriage.”
“That is quite interesting.”
“He has even tempted me with the promise to find and restore to me my
child, if I would reward him by eloping with him to some European
country.”
Nick was becoming intensely interested.
“Of course I could not go to him for advice or aid in the case as you
understand it, Mr. Carter.”
“Of course not, Mrs. Lock. What is this--er--gentleman’s name?”
“Oscar Gay.”
It required all of the great detective’s powers of control to conceal
from Mrs. Lock the intense satisfaction which the information gave him.
“How did you come to know this Gay?”
“We board at the same place on West Forty-sixth street.”
“What is his business?”
“He’s a lawyer.”
“Where is his office?”
“That I don’t know.”
“Of course not,” muttered Nick.
“Now, then, Mrs. Lock, you thought you saw your husband shoot that
girl?”
“God help me! Yes.”
“Describe exactly what you saw.”
“When I first went to the window, and sat down in plain view, I did not
notice the office on the opposite side of the street.
“The boy said Mr. Woodford would not be gone ten minutes, and I looked
at my watch to see whether he told the truth.”
“Good!” exclaimed Nick. “What time was it?”
“Three minutes to five o’clock.”
“Well?”
“As I put my watch away, I looked across the street into the opposite
window.”
“What did you see?”
“My husband and a girl, seemingly in some controversy. At that moment
Victor looked across and saw me.
“That was when I drew back into partial concealment.
“Almost immediately afterward Victor crossed the room, and left by an
opposite door. The girl sat down in a chair by a desk, and began to put
on a glove.
“Scarcely two minutes had passed, when, to my surprise, I saw my husband
walk back into the office from the opposite door.
“He came straight over toward the window, and seemed to be looking
across at my window just for a moment.
“For an instant he disappeared from my view. In a few moments he came
directly in front of the window. I saw he had a pistol in his hand.
“The girl was still busy with the glove. Without warning, he took
deliberate aim, and fired. The girl fell back in the chair, and her head
dropped forward on her chest.”
“And he?”
“Why, he seemed to glance over toward my window, presenting his full
face. Then he disappeared on the side of the window whence he came when
he produced the pistol.
“Almost directly after, he crossed the room once more, and again
disappeared through the door by which he had entered.
“Then I rushed out of Mr. Woodford’s office.
“In my dire distress and anxiety to get my child away from him I came to
you, having heard that you scarcely ever failed in work intrusted to
your care.”
“Well, you did the best thing you ever did in your life, Mrs. Lock, when
you came to me.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ll save your husband’s honor, if not his life, and I think
will regain not only your child, but his love also.”
“My God! Do not taunt me!”
“I speak the truth, Mrs. Lock. The man whom you saw commit the crime was
not your husband.”
“Not my husband? Why, the clothes--that long, blonde mustache--the
light, long hair--surely----”
“The clothes were a duplicate suit. The hair and mustache were false.
The assassin was a well-arranged double of your husband, who took pains
that you should see the deed done.
“There was a screen setting close by the window which could easily have
been pushed across to shut off your view. But it wasn’t.”
“Why are you so sure it was a double--a disguised man who did the deed?”
“First, because the proof is clear that the crime was done with a full
knowledge by the murderer that you saw it, and with due care that you
should see it.”
“Well?”
“Your husband, if capable of murder, would surely not have an object in
doing it before your eyes, but on the contrary.
“Then you saw your husband leave the room at about two minutes before
five?”
“Yes.”
“I have the testimony of the elevator-boy that he went right to the
elevator, and descended to the street.”
“Go on, please.”
“It would take him some time to go around to the building in which
Woodford’s offices are situated, probably five minutes.”
“Go on--go on!”
“He did go around, however, for Mr. Woodford said his boy told him that
Redway came to the door and inquired for you almost before you had been
gone ten seconds. You did not leave by the elevator?”
“No. I was so excited I rushed down the stairs.”
“And he stepped out of the elevator while you were on the stairs going
down.”
“Good Heaven!”
“So, you see, your husband can prove a perfect alibi. The deed was done
while he was going from his office to Woodford’s.”
“Has he furnished you with this proof?”
“No; he has gone to jail without a word of defense. When he returned, he
found the girl dead.
“He then placed her body on the desk, with one arm near her head, and
the other hanging by her side. Under this hand he placed his pistol.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you say the assassin left the body leaning back in the chair.
It was found in a different position.
“Because, according to your testimony, the assassin got the pistol from
the desk where Redway kept it, and put it back there when he had
finished his work.”
“Why did Victor arrange the position of the body that way, and place the
pistol under the hand?”
“To suggest suicide, and to shield the assassin. When the suicide theory
would not hold, he was willing to be thought guilty rather than say a
word to throw suspicion on the person he firmly believes killed Estelle
Langdon.”
“What person?”
“You. He believes you shot her from your position across the street and
fled. The position of the body, and the wound, certainly gave that
impression; for who could believe that the assassin would take a
position in front of a public window to fire the shot?”
“And he did this--for me?”
“Can a man prove his love more completely?”
Mrs. Lock let her face fall into her hands, while the hot tears trickled
from between her fingers, and she sobbed:
“Oh, Victor, Victor!”
Nick let her alone in her weeping.
When she finally dried her eyes and looked up, he asked:
“Have you--do you own a pistol, Mrs. Lock?”
“Yes.”
“And had it with you this afternoon?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“Shrewdly guessed it. Redway knew you had it?”
“He did?”
Mrs. Lock’s face flushed, and Nick did not ask her to tell him how
Redway knew it.
He took Redway’s pistol from his pocket, and showed it to her.
“Is your pistol like this?”
“It is a duplicate. Victor bought the two at the same time. Mine has his
initials on it, and his has mine.”
“Then he thought there would be no danger of the bullet and his pistol
not corresponding,” smiled Nick.
“Who could the disguised assassin have been?”
“Can’t you guess?”
“I guess? Why, who do I know--surely not----”
“Yes. Oscar Gay.”
“Merciful Heaven! What was his object?”
“First, to get rid of a wife.”
“A wife?”
“He and your cousin, I think we’ll find, were privately married. By
fixing the crime on Redway, he would remove your husband. In that way he
expected to free himself and you, and make his marriage with you easy.”
“But I never would have married him.”
“Don’t be too sure.”
“I didn’t love him.”
“But you loved your child?”
“Yes, yes!”
“I am willing to risk my professional reputation on the guess that he
has the little girl’s whereabouts in his possession, and would have used
her to get your consent to become his wife.”
Mrs. Lock shuddered.
Just then a knock came to the door. The servant announced that Miss Ida
had returned and wished to report.
“Admit her,” was Nick’s command.