CLOSER TO MASSON.
Chick was present when Patsy made his report of the afternoon’s work,
and listened with interest to the remarks Nick made on it.
“Patsy has settled one end of the case in pretty short order,” said
Nick. “The dogs were poisoned by these two men, Crummie and Graff, who
were hired to do it by Masson. What further work there is to be done on
that line is only that of making the proof strong. Patsy’s work was
quickly done, and well done.”
“I had a good deal of luck with me,” said Patsy, modestly, though much
pleased with the praise of his chief.
“Luck, Patsy,” said Nick, “usually comes from the right use of your
head, and seizing hold of opportunities when they present themselves.”
“Well, chief,” asked Chick, “how does this triumph of Patsy hitch on to
the murder end of the case?”
“There is where the puzzle is,” remarked Nick, thoughtfully.
“This morning,” said Chick, “we said that if we found that Masson was
not responsible for the death of the dogs it would go far toward putting
Masson out from under the suspicion of murder. Does it work the other
way when we find that he is responsible for the poisoning?”
“I am afraid that is the way we figured this morning,” said Nick, with a
smile. “But after hearing Patsy’s report, I am even more puzzled as to
Masson.
“If he was guilty of that murder, he is a cool-blooded wretch to talk of
it, as Patsy reports he did.”
“Yes,” said Chick, “his nerve is great. It seems he knew it was not
Blanche, but Ethel Romney that was killed.”
“Don’t forget, Chick, that at the time he was talking to these men all
the world knew. The evening papers by that time had corrected the error
of the morning.”
“True enough,” said Chick, “I had forgotten that. So there is no point
in that.”
“But, chief,” cried Patsy, “what are we to do about the lads that are
going to Chicago to-night?”
“Let them go,” replied Nick, quietly.
“Let them go?” repeated Chick and Patsy in the same breath.
“Yes; it will be easy enough to get them when we want them. The chief
thing is that I want Masson to think that he is right; that we are not
paying any attention to the dog end of the case; and, to convince him,
if we can, by our action that we have no suspicion as to him as the
murderer.”
“And then?” asked Chick, who was at a loss to follow his chief, who was
laying out a plan so different from his usual course.
“Then I shall have every step he takes shadowed and every move he makes
watched.”
“And yet you do not believe that Masson killed Ethel Romney?”
“It will not do to say that, Chick. I have told you that I am more
puzzled over this case than any I ever had to do with. I will admit to
you that, starting with the suspicions of Mrs. Constant, and her
reasons, all the indications are just as she suggests—that Ethel Romney
was killed by Eric Masson, supposing her to be Blanche Constant. But
when it is all done, I cannot make up my mind that he did do it.
“Now, I propose to settle that question beyond dispute.”
“Patsy,” said Chick, suddenly, “what sort of looking man is Eric
Masson?”
“About your height,” said Patsy, “brown beard and hair, straight nose,
pretty high, eyes close together, so dark as to look black, set well
back in his head, dresses very swell.”
“Good!” exclaimed Chick. “Now, chief, a man of exactly that description
appeared in front of that dressmaker’s place in Sixth Avenue, to which
Ethel Romney went, just after Ethel was there the first time, and hung
around there so long that three people had their attention attracted to
him.
“One of them saw the carriage drive up a second time, saw the lady it
carried get out a second time, saw this man dart out of an adjoining
doorway and follow her as she passed through into the place, speak to
her, come out again and get into that carriage.
“This same person saw the lady come out and attempt to enter the
carriage, heard a little cry from her as she stepped in, and saw the man
hurriedly close the door of the coach.
“There is something for you to crack, chief.”
“That is what you picked up this afternoon when you left me?” calmly
asked Nick.
“Yes.”
“It confirms the stories of both Moran and Rawson. It makes the
indications point all the stronger toward Masson.
“Now, I’ll give you something stronger than that. Ten minutes after
Ethel Romney drove away from home, Eric Masson called at the Constant
residence, asking to see Mrs. Constant.
“The servant who opened the door told him the lady had just driven away
in her carriage.
“The servant supposed she was telling the truth, for she had mistaken
Ethel for Mrs. Constant. In response to the question as to whether Mrs.
Constant had gone out for the evening, the servant replied she thought
not, as she had heard Mrs. Constant was going to her dressmaker.”
“Knowing all this you still have doubts, chief?” asked Chick.
“Patsy,” asked Nick, “does Eric Masson walk with a hitch or a jerk to
his right shoulder?”
“I saw nothing of it?” replied the lad.
“Chick,” said Nick, “Masson was in his club from six o’clock in the
evening until ten at night. Three men stand to swear to it.”
“What time did Ethel Romney leave her home last night?” asked Chick.
“About eight o’clock.”
“It’s a puzzle; more puzzling the deeper you get into it,” said Chick.
“If these three men stand firm, Masson can prove an alibi, if charged.”
“Chick, one man stands ready to swear that he saw Eric Masson in
Fifty-eighth Street at nine o’clock, for he had just looked at his watch
as he saluted Masson.
“Another stands ready to swear that he met and spoke to Eric Masson at
about half-past nine, at the corner of Fifty-seventh Street and Fifth
Avenue.”
“And this is the result of your inquiries since I parted with you?”
asked Chick.
“You think that instead of clearing things they are worse muddled.”
“It would look that way.”
“Well, you’re right. I can’t even imagine an explanation of these
contradictions.”
Further conversation on this line was interrupted by the coming of Mrs.
Carter, who had been spending the afternoon with Blanche Constant.
She was quite excited, saying:
“It has been a distressing afternoon. Blanche’s grief is almost robbing
her of her senses. She blames herself so much that she did not guard
Ethel against the dangers she was exposed to.”
Turning suddenly to her husband, she said:
“Nick, how is it that you can doubt for a moment that Masson is the man
that murdered Ethel, thinking she was Blanche?”
Chick was about to speak, but Nick checked him, saying:
“Edith, you know, I usually want proof before I believe a man guilty.”
Continuing, he said:
“When, having been rejected, Masson learns that Blanche Romney was about
to marry Albert Constant, he tells her it will be well neither for
herself nor for Constant if she does. It was not nice or manly, yet
there is nothing in that to justify a belief in murder.”
“But——”
“Blanche thinks he injured her husband. That is only suspicion. She
hints at foul play in Constant’s death, but it is based only on the fact
that Masson dined at the same table. At the very best, it is only
suspicion.
“She thinks that Masson killed her dogs, but she has no proof. It is
only suspicion.”
Patsy looked up in great surprise at Nick when he said the last words.
Then he saw that Nick had a purpose in the way he was replying to Edith.
“Well, it is not suspicion when he entices Blanche into an empty house,
where he is alone, is it?” cried Edith, quite heatedly.
“What is that you are saying?” asked Nick.
“I didn’t mean to speak of it,” said Edith, “for Blanche is so afraid of
the scandal of it. But the grass was hardly green over the grave of her
husband when Masson renewed his attentions to Blanche. That was bad
enough in itself.
“She drove him away angrily, and yet he persisted in writing to her
until she returned his letters unopened.
“Then one day, having by some means learned that Blanche was befriending
a poor family, he enticed her to go to see that poor family at a certain
house.
“When she entered the house the poor family was not there, but Masson
was, and he was alone.
“Then he told her that she was compromised by entering that house, for
every one in the neighborhood knew that a bachelor lived there, and had
seen her enter.
“Blanche only got out of the house by drawing her revolver and fighting
her way out.
“One day, when Blanche was giving a reception, for which she had issued
cards, five or six most notorious women entered, having received cards,
to scandalize her, and one acknowledged that she had been hired by
Masson to go there.
“Then, when Blanche sent for him and threatened him with arrest and
prosecution if he continued the persecutions, he declared that he would
continue them until she married him; that if she wanted to live it could
only be as his wife——”
“Now,” said Nick, springing to his feet, “we have something substantial
to go upon. I knew there was something back of all this indefinite
suspicion of Mrs. Constant.
“It required Edith’s sympathy to get it out.
“What an infernal scoundrel the fellow is!
“What is true,” he continued, “is that we have for the first time
knowledge of a threat on the part of Masson to kill Mrs. Constant.
“That becomes serious. Now we have a new motive for work.
“Patsy, you must be at the Grand Central Station to see your friends,
Crummie and Graff, off to Chicago. Let them go, thinking that nobody
suspects them.
“Then take up Masson’s shadow. That is to be your work for the present.
“In the meantime, I am growing alarmed about Ida. She was to wire me
before this from Philadelphia.”
“Don’t worry, chief,” said Chick. “Ida knows how to take care of
herself. If she has not wired you, it is because she means to turn up
from that city this evening.”
“I hope so,” said Nick, uneasily.
Then the four went to dinner.