The Sterling Safe Deposit Company! Well, at last I had some definite
information! At last I had something to work upon! I went at once to the
deposit company, and asked for an interview with the manager. I had
difficulty in persuading him to grant my request, but after realizing
the gravity of the situation and the significance of the clue, he told
me that that key belonged to a safe deposit box rented by a Mrs.
Altonstall, who lived on West Fifty-eighth Street.
I looked at my watch. It was almost five o'clock, but I concluded to go
at once to call on the lady.
As I went up there in a taxicab, my brain was in a whirl. The key of a
safe deposit box, not Mr. Pembroke's own, but belonging to a woman!
found in his room, after a crime which it was assumed was committed by a
woman!
Who was Mrs. Altonstall? And why should she murder Robert Pembroke? This
question opened such a wide field for speculation that it was
unanswerable. Had the deed really been done by a woman? And was I, even
now, about to verify this?
I felt an uncertainty about proceeding. Ought I not to place the whole
matter in the hands of the Coroner? Was I not taking too much upon
myself to investigate alone this new evidence?
But, I reasoned, delay might be dangerous. If the Coroner were to
postpone until next day an interview with this woman, might she not have
already effected her escape? Was it not wiser that I should go there at
once, and lose no time in securing any possible information?
At any rate, I went, resolved to take the consequences of my deed,
whatever they might be.
The address given me proved to be a large and handsome apartment house.
At the office I inquired for Mrs. Altonstall and being informed that she
was at home, I sent up my card, for I judged that the most open and
straightforward measures were the best.
A moment later I was informed that Mrs. Altonstall would see me, and
entering the elevator I went at once to her apartment.
The general effects of grandeur throughout the house and the elegance of
Mrs. Altonstall's own room, made me wonder afresh if I could by any
possibility be on the track of a criminal. Surely, the criminal classes
did not live in a style implying such respectability and aristocracy as
these surroundings seemed to indicate. But of course I realized that a
woman who could commit murder was not necessarily found among the
criminal classes, and indeed, being an exceptional individual, might be
looked for in any setting.
But when my hostess entered, and I saw a sweet-faced, middle-aged lady,
of gentle manner and gracious mien, walk toward me, I felt the blood
rush to my face, and I stood consumed with dismay and confusion.
"Mrs. Altonstall?" I said, conquering my embarrassment.
"Yes," she said, in one of the sweetest voices I ever heard. "This is
Mr. Landon? you wanted to see me?"
Surely with such a queen of women as this, frankness and truth were the
only lines to follow.
"Yes, Mrs. Altonstall," I said; "I am a lawyer, and I am at present
investigating a serious case. In connection with it, there has been
found a key, which I have been informed belongs to you. Will you kindly
say if this is so?"
As I spoke, I handed her the key. I need not say that at the first
glimpse of that serene, gracious face, all thought of her implication in
our affair instantly vanished. Presumably, too, the key was not hers,
there had been a mistake, somehow.
As she took the key, she looked at me with a bewildered surprise. "Why,
yes, Mr. Landon," she said, "this is my key. May I ask where you
obtained it?"
I hesitated, for it seemed a terrible thing to tell this queenly lady
where her key had been found. And yet the situation was so inexplicable,
that I must solve it if possible.
"I will tell you in a moment, Mrs. Altonstall," I said, slowly, "but
first I must ask you if you know Mr. Robert Pembroke?"
"Robert Pembroke?" she repeated; "no, I never heard the name. Who is
he?"
The unruffled calm and the straightforward gaze that met my own eyes, so
frankly, was so convincing of her absolute veracity, that just for an
instant the thought flashed through my mind that it might be merely the
perfection of acting.
But the next instant I knew better, for no human being could so simulate
utter ignorance of a subject, if she had guilty knowledge of it.
Moreover, since she knew nothing of Robert Pembroke, I instantly
concluded not to tell her of the tragedy, but to inquire further
concerning the key.
"Since you do not know him, Mrs. Altonstall, let us not discuss him.
Will you tell me how you lost possession of this key, since it is
yours?"
"I gave it to my lawyer, Mr. Leroy," she replied. "It was necessary that
he should get some of my papers from the Safe Deposit Company, and it
has been arranged that he shall have access to my box on presentation of
my key. I am a widow, Mr. Landon, and as I have various financial
interests, it is necessary for me frequently to employ the services of a
lawyer. Mr. Leroy attends to all such affairs for me."
"Do you mean Mr. Graham Leroy?" I asked, very gravely, for the
introduction of his name stirred up all sorts of conjectures.
"Yes," she replied, "he is an able lawyer, as well as a kind friend."
"I'm acquainted with Mr. Leroy," I responded, "and I quite agree with
your estimate of him. When did you give him the key, Mrs. Altonstall?"
"About four or five days ago; last Saturday, to be exact. There was no
immediate haste about my papers, he was to attend to the matter at his
convenience. May I ask where the key was found?"
I disliked extremely to rehearse the details of the case, and I knew it
was in no way necessary. Of course the key belonged to this lady; aside
from her own word, the bank had told me so. But her question must be
answered.
"It was found in the apartment of Mr. Robert Pembroke," I said; but
immediately added, as she looked slightly startled, "I think, however,
it is a matter of easy explanation. Graham Leroy is also Mr. Pembroke's
lawyer, and he must have dropped the key there while calling on Mr.
Pembroke."
"Unpardonable carelessness," she said, and I saw that the sweet placid
face could assume an expression of indignation upon occasion.
"That, madam, you must say to Mr. Leroy. I am sorry to have troubled you
in the matter, and I thank you for your courtesy to me."
"But you will leave my key with me?" she said, as I was about to take
leave.
"I think I cannot do that, Mrs. Altonstall," I said, "as it was
entrusted to me by official authority. But I promise to return it to Mr.
Leroy, which, I trust will be satisfactory to you."
The lady agreed to this, though a little unwillingly, and I went away,
newly perplexed at this most recent development.
So then, Graham Leroy had been in possession of this key. So then, he
must have left it in Robert Pembroke's bedroom. He would not have done
this purposely, of course, therefore he must have dropped it there
without knowing it. It was found on Robert Pembroke's bed. Not under the
pillow,--the suggestion that it had been under the pillow was mere
supposition. It might have been dropped on the bed from the pocket of
one leaning over the sleeping man.
But Graham Leroy! the thought was preposterous!
And then again, the old, ever insoluble question,--how could he get in?
But really it was scarcely more impossible to conclude how he got in,
than to imagine Graham Leroy getting in at all, except in correct and
ordinary fashion.
My brain worked quickly. To be sure, he might have dropped the key in
that room when calling there, as he did, on Tuesday night.
But I had asked Charlotte when Mr. Pembroke's bedroom had last been
swept, and she had told me that she had swept it Wednesday morning, and
had then emptied the waste basket. This had seemed to me to prove that
all the clues I had found, had been brought into the room after that
sweeping. But again, the key being found in the bed it had nothing to
do with the sweeping of the room. However, Charlotte could not have made
up the bed without seeing the key, so the only possible deduction was
that Mrs. Altonstall's key had been left in Robert Pembroke's room after
noon of Wednesday, the day he was murdered!
It was all too much for me! I had undertaken to trace the clues that I
had myself found, but if they were to lead me to such extraordinary
discoveries as this, I felt I must appeal to more practical detective
talent.
But Leroy or not, at any rate it turned the tide of suspicion away from
Janet. This was joy enough, of itself, to compensate for any horrible
revelation that might come in the future concerning Leroy or anyone
else.
Somewhere in the back of my brain two dreadful words that the Coroner
had used were hammering for admittance. These were _connivance_ and
_complicity_; if Leroy entered the apartment on Wednesday night at any
hour he was let in by either Janet or Charlotte.
At that moment I realized the truth of the line, "that way madness
lies."
I pushed the thought from my mind with all my will power, and hastening
my steps, for I had walked from Fifty-eighth Street, I went rapidly
homeward.
I reached home about six o'clock, and found that George Lawrence was
there, and that Laura had invited him to stay to dinner. I was pleased
at this, for I hoped that by the casual conversation at table I could
learn something of Mr. Pembroke's past life and acquaintances.
I concluded to say nothing about my discoveries of the afternoon, but to
advise them of my decision to continue my search for a real criminal; a
housebreaker or burglar, who could have committed the crime for the
money, which he stole, and who must have contrived some way to get in
through a window.
During dinner, although Laura endeavored to keep away from the
all-engrossing subject, which she disapproved of as table conversation,
I gave a slight outline of the effort I intended to make.
George Lawrence seemed greatly pleased with my ideas. He agreed that
there must be some one, somewhere, besides himself and Janet who could
be shown to have a motive, and he offered to assist me in looking over
his uncle's private papers for some letter or other evidence which might
indicate this.
"Simply to make a statement of the case, but for no other reason," said
George, "I will agree with you that the facts, as known, seem to
implicate Janet. But as she is utterly incapable of such a thing, and as
the idea of Charlotte being involved in the matter is absurd, the
criminal must be somebody else, and we must find him or her. I say 'him
or her' because the inspector declares that the hat-pin indicates a
woman's deed, and, as we are utterly at sea regarding the individuality
of the criminal, we are, I think, justified in assuming either sex. It
is, of course, not beyond the bounds of possibility that Uncle Robert
had a feminine enemy."
"Once we can establish a motive," I said, "we shall have something to
work upon in our hunt for evidence."
"And yet motive isn't everything," said Lawrence, with a grim smile;
"for if Janet had a motive, as you say, an equal one must be attributed
to me, as I am an equal inheritor of Uncle Robert's fortune."
I looked wonderingly at the young man. "The motive attributed to Miss
Pembroke," I said "would probably not be her desire for inheritance, so
much as the desperate difficulties attending her life with her uncle."
This seemed to surprise Lawrence, but he only said carelessly: "It
doesn't matter what motive they assign to Janet, for she didn't have any
motive, and she didn't do the deed. But, for the moment, I'm speaking
not of facts or even possibilities, but of contingencies which might
arise. It might be claimed that I had a motive, from the mere fact that
I am one of my uncle's heirs."
"But you couldn't get in, George," said Janet quickly. "Your latch-key
was of no use when the chain was on."
"That's true enough, Janet, and we all know it; but, as I say, we're
speaking of a hypothetical case. And you know, if we're going to hunt
for some other person with a motive, we're bound to admit that he got
into the apartment somehow. Therefore, to eliminate the possibility of
being myself a suspect, I'll merely state, as a matter of fact, that my
alibi is perfect. I can prove, should it be necessary, that I was far
away from Sixty-second Street at the time of Uncle Robert's death, and
can account for my time all through the night."
I liked Lawrence's way of putting these things, and began to think his
clear-headed views on the matter would be of assistance to me, even
though he had no taste or talent for detective work.
"Just what is an alibi?" asked Janet, with a perplexed air.
"It means," I answered, "proof by witnesses of a person's whereabouts at
a given time."
"Oh!" said Janet. "And where were you last night, George?"
Lawrence smiled as he answered: "I'm not in the witness box now, Janet,
but I don't mind telling you that I dined and spent the evening at the
Warings'."
"Oh, did you?" cried Janet. "And you took Milly to a matinée in the
afternoon. I know, because she told me about it before. You're getting
awfully fond of her, aren't you, George?"
"Yes, I like Miss Waring extremely," said Lawrence, and though he spoke
as if he meant it, a certain sadness came into his eyes, and I suspected
that Miss Waring did not reciprocate his regard.
But though the young man seemed suddenly _distrait_, and did not attempt
to continue our previous conversation, Janet, on the contrary had
brightened up wonderfully. Being in a mood for making inferences, I
deduced that George Lawrence was more interested in Miss Waring than
Janet desired him to be, and that she was pleased rather than otherwise
at George's lack of enthusiasm about the lady. Thereupon the sudden fear
that Janet was in love with her cousin assailed me. This aroused what
was of course an unreasonable jealousy on my part, for I had not the
slightest actual foundation on which to rest the hopes I was rapidly
building. I eagerly watched the two cousins after that, to discover if
there was anything more than cousinly affection on either side.