When I reached home Lawrence had left, Miss Pembroke had retired, and
Laura was in the library, waiting for me.
"It doesn't seem possible," she said, as I flung off my coat and threw
myself into an easy chair, "that so much could have happened in one day.
Only think, Otis, when we arose this morning we didn't know Miss
Pembroke to speak to, and now she is asleep in our guest room!"
"Where is Charlotte?" I said.
"She wanted to go to spend the night with some friends, so I let her go.
We are responsible, you know, for her appearance if called for, and I
know the girl well enough to know she'll never get very far away from
her beloved Miss Janet."
"Have you questioned Charlotte at all?"
"Yes; and what do you think Otis? She believes that Miss Pembroke killed
her uncle!"
"Did she say so?"
"Not in so many words; indeed, she scarcely owned up to it. But you know
colored people are as transparent as children, and by talking in a
roundabout way I discovered that she suspects Janet, only because she
can't see any other solution of the mystery. She doesn't seem to blame
her at all, and even seems to think Janet justified in putting the old
man out of the way."
"Of course she has no intelligence in the matter," I said; "but don't
you see, Laura, that if she suspects Janet, but really knows nothing
about it, that proves Charlotte herself absolutely innocent even of
complicity?"
"So it does, Otis. How clever you are to see that!"
"Clever!" I said, somewhat bitterly. "I'm not clever at all. I may be a
lawyer, but I'm no detective."
"Why don't you employ a detective, then?"
"It isn't my place to do so. But I feel sure that a professional
detective, from the clues we have, could find the murderer at once."
"Well, it wouldn't be Janet Pembroke," said Laura, with conviction.
"I've been alone with that girl most of the evening, and she's no more
guilty than I am. But, Otis, she does know more than she has told. She
either knows something or suspects something that she is keeping
secret."
"I have thought that, too. And, as her counsel, she ought to be
perfectly frank with me."
"But isn't there a law or something," asked Laura, "that people are not
obliged to say anything that may incriminate themselves?"
"But you don't think her a criminal," I said quickly.
"No," said Laura, with some hesitation; "but she is so queer in some
ways, I can't make her out. Mr. Lawrence stayed here chatting some time
after you left, and once or twice I thought Janet suspected him; and
then, again, she said something that showed me positively that she
didn't."
"There it is again, Laura: if Janet _suspects_ George, she can't be
guilty herself."
"That's so," said Laura, her face brightening. "But then," she added,
"they both may know something about it."
Ah, this was my own fear! "Laura," I said suddenly, "do you think those
two cousins are in love with each other?"
"Not a bit of it," said Laura decidedly. "Mr. Lawrence is very much
interested in Miss Millicent Waring, though I don't know that he is
really in love with her. But I think he is rather piqued by her
indifference. He seems to have a loyal fondness for Janet, but nothing
more than would be expected from a good first-class cousin."
"And she?" I asked, trying hard not to appear self-conscious.
"Oh, she cares for George in the same way. He's her only relative now,
you know. But she told me herself she had never cared especially for any
man. She's peculiar, you know, Otis; but I do think she shows a great
deal of interest in you."
"Do you really?" I exclaimed, looking up to find my sister smiling at me
in a mischievous fashion.
"Oh, you dear old goose!" she cried. "Do you suppose I can't see that
you're already over head and ears in love with Janet Pembroke, and have
been ever since the first day we came into the Hammersleigh?"
"By Jove! that's so," I cried. "Laura, you know more about my affairs
than I do. I thought my affection for that girl dated from this morning,
but I see now you are right. I have loved her from the first moment I
saw her."
"And you can win her, if you go about it right," said my sister, with
her little air of worldly wisdom that always amused me.
"I hope so," I said fervently. "As soon as this dreadful affair is
finished up, and Janet has decided upon her temporary home, I think we
too want to get away from this place."
"Yes," said Laura, with a sigh; "I hate to move, but I'd hate worse to
stay here."
In response to the urgent summons Leroy came back to New York the next
morning.
From his office he telephoned to Janet immediately upon his return,
saying that he would come up to see her in the afternoon, and asking
that George Lawrence should also be present.
As Janet was now staying with us, the interview was held in our
apartment. Although Mr. Pembroke's body had been removed to a mortuary
establishment, Janet could not bear the thought of going back to her own
rooms, and moreover, the girl was very glad to remain under the cheering
influences of Laura's kindness and friendliness. And so, as Laura
insisted upon it, Janet directed Mr. Leroy to come up that afternoon.
This being arranged, Laura also telephoned me at my office, and I went
home in ample time to receive our caller.
As Miss Pembroke's lawyer I had, of course, a right to be present, and
as George Lawrence was there too, it seemed more like an official
interview than a social call.
Leroy came in, looking exceedingly handsome and attractive. Indeed, I
had forgotten what an unusually good-looking man he was. He had that
combination of dark eyes and hair slightly silvered at the temples,
which is so effective in middle age.
Though not at all effusive in his manner, he seemed deeply moved, and
greeted Janet with an air of gentle sympathy. His manner, however, did
not meet a response in kind. Janet's air was cold and haughty and she
merely gave him her finger tips, as if the very touch of his hand were
distasteful to her.
George Lawrence was a little more cordial in his reception of the
lawyer, but it was plain to be seen that neither of the cousins felt
very friendly toward him.
Mr. Leroy acknowledged courteously his introduction to Laura and myself,
and then he requested to be told the details of the tragedy.
He listened attentively while we told him all about it, now and then
asking a question, but expressing no opinions. His face grew very grave,
indeed to me it seemed almost sinister, and a little mysterious.
We had not yet finished relating the case, when our door-bell rang and
Mr. Buckner was announced.
Buckner was the District Attorney, and after receiving the Coroner's
report he had come to make some further inquiries.
I had never seen the man before, as I rarely had to do with a criminal
case, but I liked his attitude and manner at once. He was exceedingly
straightforward and business-like. He asked questions and conducted his
inquiries as if it were merely a continuation of the inquest.
He had of course learned from the coroner all that he knew about the
case, and now he seemed to hope and expect that he would get new
evidence from Leroy.
However, Graham Leroy was not a satisfactory person to get evidence
from. He answered the District Attorney's questions, directly and
concisely, but he gave little or no information of any importance.
Leroy had not seemed especially interested in hearing of the clues which
I had collected from Mr. Pembroke's bedroom, but after a time I
concluded to try the effect of showing him the key which I had in my
pocket.
"Good Heavens!" he exclaimed, with a start, "where did you get that?"
The result of my sudden move was all I could have desired. Leroy's calm
was shaken at last; his interest was aroused, and the strange expression
that showed on his saturnine face proved that he was greatly agitated at
the sight of that key. It seemed to me that fear possessed him, or that
at any rate he was startled by some unpleasant thought.
The District Attorney, who had been apprised by the Coroner of my
tracing of the key, turned to Leroy with a hint of accusation in his
manner.
"You recognize that key, Mr. Leroy?" he said.
"I do," returned Leroy, and though he spoke in quiet tones, he had
difficulty in concealing his agitation.
"Is it yours?"
"It is not mine, but it was in my possession."
"Whose is it?"
"It belongs to Mrs. Altonstall, a client of mine. She gave it to me, to
get some papers for her from a safety deposit box."
"And you lost it?"
"I did."
"When did you have it last, to your knowledge?"
"I had it on Wednesday. I went to Utica, Wednesday night, and next
morning I missed the key. I concluded that I must have left it at my
office, but when I returned there I could not find it, and I felt
considerable alarm, for one does not like to lose the key of a client's
box."
"No," said Mr. Buckner, grimly; "it is not a good thing to do. And where
do you think you lost it?"
"I've no idea; but as it was in my pocket, and I must have pulled it out
unintentionally, and dropped it unknowingly, it may have happened in the
train or on the street or anywhere. Where was it found?"
"This is the key of which we told you; the key that was found in Mr.
Pembroke's bed yesterday morning."
"What! Impossible!" cried Leroy and his face turned white and his dark
eyes fairly glared. "How could Robert Pembroke have come into possession
of that key?"
"We don't assume, Mr. Leroy, that Mr. Pembroke ever had this key in his
possession. As it was found in the bed, not under the pillow, but beside
the body of the dead man, we think it seems to indicate at least a
possibility that it was dropped there by the murderer as he leaned over
his victim."
This came so near to being a direct accusation, that I fully expected
Leroy to exclaim with anger. But instead, though his face grew even
whiter than before, he said very quietly: "Am I to understand that as an
implication that I may be guilty of this crime?"
Though uttered in low even tones, the words expressed horror at the
thought.
"You are to understand," replied Mr. Buckner, "that we ask you for a
frank and honest explanation of how your key, or rather your client's
key, happened to be where it was found."
"I cannot explain it," said Leroy, and now he had entirely controlled
his agitation, and his face was like an impassive marble mask.
"You cannot or you will not?"
"I cannot. I have not the remotest idea where I lost that key, but by no
possibility could I have lost it in Mr. Pembroke's bedroom, because I
was not there."
"When were you last in Mr. Pembroke's room?"
"I was there Tuesday evening, and I may possibly have dropped the key
there then."
"But you said you remembered having it Wednesday morning."
"I might be mistaken about that; perhaps it was Tuesday morning that I
positively remember having it."
Clearly Leroy was floundering. His words were hesitating, and though it
was evident that his brain was working quickly, I felt sure he was
trying to conceal his thoughts, and not express them.
"Supposing then that you may have dropped this key in Mr. Pembroke's
bedroom when you were calling on him Tuesday evening, you would not be
likely to have dropped it in the bed, would you?"
"Certainly not. I saw Mr. Pembroke in his room only a few moments, after
having already made a longer call in the drawing-room."
The involuntary glance which Leroy shot at Janet and the color which
flamed suddenly in the girl's face, left me in no doubt as to the
purport of the call he had made in the drawing-room on Tuesday evening.
I knew as well as if I had been told, that he had been asking Janet to
marry him; I knew that his interview with Mr. Pembroke afterward had
probably related to the same subject; and though I was glad that his
suit had not been successful, yet I felt jealous of the whole episode.
However, I had no time then to indulge in thoughts of romance, for the
District Attorney was mercilessly pinning Leroy down to an exact account
of himself.
"Had the bed been turned down for the night, when you were in Mr.
Pembroke's room on Tuesday evening?"
"I didn't notice especially, but I have an indistinct impression that
the covers had been turned back."
"In that case it would have been possible for you to drop the key in the
bed without knowing it, but very far from probable. Did you lean over
the bed for any purpose?"
"No; of course I did not. But perhaps if I did drop the key in the room,
and Mr. Pembroke found it, knowing it to be a valuable key, he may have
put it under his pillow, for safety's sake."
"That again is possible; but improbable that he would have done it two
nights, both Tuesday and Wednesday nights! Moreover, Mr. Leroy, you said
at first that you were sure you had the key Wednesday morning. And not
until you inferred that you were suspected of implication in this
affair, did you say that it might have been Tuesday morning you had it.
Now, can you not speak positively on that point?"
Leroy hesitated. Though his face rarely showed what was passing in his
mind, yet though at this moment no one who saw him could doubt that the
man was going through a fearful mental struggle. Indeed, he sat silent
for so long, that I began to wonder whether he intended to answer the
question or not. Lines formed across his brow and his stern lips
fastened themselves in a straight line. He looked first at Janet and
then at George, with a piercing gaze. Finally he shook his head with a
sudden quick gesture, as if flinging off a temptation to prevaricate,
which was almost too strong to be resisted.
"I can speak positively," he said, and the words seemed to be fairly
forced from him. "I had that key last to my knowledge on Wednesday
morning, when I made use of it at the Sterling Safety Deposit Company."