GREED
Charles Craige sat staring into vacancy, while beads of perspiration
trickled down his ghastly face. Several drops slipped into his eyes and
half blinded him. Raising his hands he brushed them away. The action
brought the handcuffs encircling his wrists into view. He regarded
them apathetically, then his uncomprehending gaze traveled over the
horror-stricken men and women grouped about his chair. It was not until
he saw Kitty Baird that the situation dawned upon him. Before the
others suspected his intention, he sprang at her, his manacled hands
upraised to strike. The blow was turned aside by Inspector Mitchell,
who darted to Kitty's assistance.
"Hold him down in that chair, Welsh," he directed as the detective came
to his aid. Rodgers, whose false strength had departed, dropped into
the nearest chair, the revolver hanging useless in his grasp. His shot,
as Craige sprang forward, had gone wild. Kitty was by his side in an
instant.
"I'm all right," he panted, as she bent over him. "Don't worry, my
darling. Now, Craige, what have you to say?"
"Say?" Craige was winded from his exertions and spoke with difficulty.
"Why should I say anything?"
"Because the game's up," Mitchell stated, and stepped aside so that
Craige had a clear view of Cecelia Parsons. "Why did you kill that
woman?"
"I did not mean to kill Cecelia," Craige shouted. "God knows I did
not." His bloodshot eyes again sought Kitty. "I threw the cat at you.
Cecelia called to me to stop you--"
"Ah, so Mrs. Parsons aided you in your murder of Miss Susan Baird,"
broke in Mitchell.
"She did not." Craige, his tongue unloosened, spoke in desperate
haste, his words tripping over one another. It seemed almost as if he
gained courage from the sound of his own voice. "Miss Susan Baird was
warned--but she would not listen to me."
"Why did you kill my aunt?" demanded Kitty, indignation for the moment
mastering her horror. "She was always kind to you. She trusted you."
"Trust? It was greed which prompted her friendship." Craige laughed
harshly, jeeringly. "It was by my aid that she made her fortune. Do you
know what she was--your aristocratic aunt--a money-lender!"
Kitty stared at him--appalled. "It can't be," she cried, and turned
appealingly to Ted Rodgers. "Make him tell the truth."
"I am speaking the truth," Craige retorted. "Many's the person I've
brought over here when you, Kitty, were not around, and your aunt has
admitted us at that side door. She charged high rates of interest, but
no one gave her away. She was square with them."
"Were you square with her?" asked Rodgers quietly, and a dull red
suffused Craige's white face.
"When I had to borrow, she treated me like the others," he answered.
"The fact that I helped her amass a fortune cut no ice. I got deeper
and deeper in debt, and then--" his voice changed. "I had to have
money, so I told her I wanted to marry you."
Kitty retreated, aghast. "Marry me? _You!_"
"Yes," coolly. "I am only fifty-four; there is not such a difference in
our ages. I saw your aunt on Sunday about six o'clock. She laughed at
me and refused to consent to our marriage." Beads of perspiration had
again gathered on his forehead, but he went steadily on with his story,
oblivious apparently of the abhorrence with which his companions were
regarding him. "I had forged Miss Susan Baird's name in my desperation
last week. I knew that if Kitty and I were married quickly, she would
keep quiet about the forgery for her family's sake. When she laughed my
plan to scorn, I realized there was only one thing to do--to kill her."
"How did you go about it?" asked Mitchell.
It was some seconds before Craige answered. "I went prepared for
failure," he admitted. "I could not face ruin--perhaps the penitentiary
for forgery. My father was a famous expert in toxicology and," he
moistened his lips--"I often worked in his laboratory," with a side
glance at the bulb syringe still lying where it had fallen on the
floor. "I at first planned to squeeze some poison in her tea cup,
but got no chance. Then Miss Baird asked me to peel a peach for her.
I don't know where the peaches came from, but there were three in a
dish on the table. Before cutting the peach in two, I sprayed some
hydrocyanic acid on the knife-blade when Miss Baird was not looking,
holding the knife just over the edge of the table and the bulb in my
left hand, out of sight in my lap."
"It was devilishly ingenious," commented Mitchell. "Well, did you steal
the forged paper after killing the old lady?"
"No." Craige looked at Kitty with a faint sneer. "It was among those
canceled checks from the bank which you so obligingly left in your desk
yesterday alongside your revolver. I stole them both last night."
"Last night?" Kitty looked at him in astonishment. "Why, we found you
at home last night, Ted and I. We telephoned you first that we were
coming and--"
"I answered the 'phone; quite so." Craige's smile was peculiar. "My
butler, Lambert, is well trained and," with emphasis, "well paid. He is
quick at recognizing the voices of my intimate friends. I happened to
be in Washington in my, eh, town apartment," with a sidelong look at
Kitty. "From there I have a direct wire to my switchboard in my house,
and Lambert plugged in your call. You thought you were talking to me at
'Hideaway,' Rodgers, whereas I wasn't six blocks away from here.
"I told Lambert to take care of you until I got home, then hurried over
here. I have a key to the side door. It took but an instant to slip
upstairs to your room and to go through your desk. Mandy never woke
up, but that infernal cat," with a vindictive snarl. "I wish I had
strangled her. When I got back to 'Hideaway,' I found you and Kitty so
engaged with each other that I knew you never realized the time I took
to appear."
"So that was it!" Rodgers drew a long breath. "And you followed us and
tried to shoot me in the Park!"
"Yes." Craige favored him with a scowl. "I got word yesterday that
you were wise to the kind of life I was leading--you knew too much. I
detected you watching me last night. If Kitty had not swerved her car
when she did, I'd have potted you, for I'm a crack shot as a general
thing."
"And did you throw the revolver into the car as you dashed by?" asked
Kitty.
"Yes. I had tied a handkerchief loosely about the butt of the revolver
so as not to leave finger prints," Craige added. "It was clever of you,
Rodgers, to trace the handkerchief as you did. In my haste that night,
I never noticed that I had one of Cecelia's handkerchiefs in my pocket
and none of my own." He paused, his voice had grown husky. "Well, that
clears up the mystery."
"All but Mrs. Parsons' part in it," broke in Rodgers. "Where did she
come in, Craige?"
Craige's color mounted, then receded, leaving him deadly white.
"She cut a big splurge here," he began, "and soon went through her
money. She found out about Miss Baird and came here early Monday
morning, knowing that Kitty was spending the night with her cousins,
hoping to borrow from Susan. She found the front door open, so she told
me, and walked in. When she discovered Miss Baird lying dead in the
library, she bolted home and called up the police."
"And why did she try to bribe Oscar?" demanded Kitty.
"She wanted some papers to prove that your aunt was a money-lender,"
Craige twisted about, his growing uneasiness plainly indicated by his
avoidance of their gaze.
"In other words," cut in Mitchell. "Mrs. Parsons hoped to blackmail
Miss Kitty Baird by threatening to expose her aunt's career."
Craige nodded sullenly. "Something like that," he admitted.
Rodgers had not taken his eyes from him. "Did Mrs. Parsons know that
you wished to marry Kitty?" he asked.
Craige shifted his feet about. "No," he muttered.
"Did she know that you killed Miss Susan Baird?" Rodgers was persistent
in his questioning.
"I'm not sure," Craige glanced up at him quickly, then dropped his
eyes. The sight of his handcuffs sent a shiver down his spine and he
again shifted his gaze.
"Mrs. Parsons done picked up dat ar' rubber ball befo' she left on
Monday mawnin'," volunteered Oscar. The old man had been a fascinated
witness of all that transpired; his face, gray from fright at the death
of Cecelia Parsons, had regained its normal hue somewhat, but his eyes
still bulged from his head.
"She did!" A startled look crept into Craige's ever shifting eyes.
"Why, I found the cat playing with the syringe when I first entered
this room. I knew that I had dropped it on Sunday, probably when I
re�ntered the library after Susan Baird screamed." A shudder shook him,
in spite of his iron self-control. "Seeing it here this afternoon, I
supposed it had rolled in some corner, and been overlooked. I judged
that the cat had selected it as a plaything."
"It's a wonder the cat didn't poison herself," commented Mitchell.
Craige's face was distorted into what he meant for a smile. "There
wasn't a drop of poison left in the syringe," he said. "I considered
finding it a direct act of Providence, for I expected trouble of some
kind, and brought with me a small phial of a concentrated solution of
crotalidae--"
"What's that?" asked Mitchell.
"Snake venom, and deadly when introduced into the blood," explained
Craige. "It's sometimes used in drugs given by homeopathists. During
the few minutes I was alone in the library I put the poison in the
syringe."
"But if Mrs. Parsons carried away the syringe on Monday morning, how
did it get back in this library to-day?" asked Kitty.
"She probably guessed that it was used to kill Miss Susan Baird in some
way, and brought it back to incriminate Miss Kitty Baird," declared
Mitchell. "Mrs. Parsons was as clever as they make them, but she
overreached herself when she tried to involve you, Mr. Rodgers. I kept
the wires to San Francisco hot until I found out that the papers she
produced to prove that you were involved in the Holt will forgery were
ones found in Gentleman Jake's house, when he and his confederates were
trying to forge Holt's will." He turned to Craige. "Did you put Mrs.
Parsons up to that deviltry, Mr. Craige?"
Craige ignored the question and Potter broke his long silence.
"I imagine he did," he said. "Mrs. Parsons was the divorced wife of
Gentleman Jake, and later she married Amos Parsons. He left some
property and she came east. She'd have lived straight, Craige, if it
hadn't been for you."
"Craige," Mitchell's harsh voice made the lawyer turn with a nervous
jump. "Did you conceal that small bottle of prussic acid in the ivory
dice cup?"
"Yes," sullenly, then with a venomous glance at Kitty. "I hoped to
involve you."
"You yellow devil!" Ted Rodgers rose and stepped toward him, but
Mitchell intervened.
"The law will deal with him, Mr. Rodgers; stand back, Sir. Now, Craige,
come on--" and, at a sign, Welsh, the detective, took his place by the
lawyer.
Twice Craige tried to get upon his feet, only to sway back into his
seat. He had aged in the past hour, and when he finally stood upright
his shoulders sagged forward and his trembling knees seemed unable to
support him.
"Catch him on the other side, Welsh," Mitchell directed. "Mr. Potter,
please telephone to Coroner Penfield." With a jerk of his head he
indicated the prone figure behind them. "Mrs. Parsons cannot be moved
until he gets here. Come, Craige."
Craige moved forward a few hesitating steps and then halted. An
irresistible attraction which he could not conquer drew his eyes toward
Cecelia Parsons. Whatever emotion he felt he controlled admirably. He
stood for a moment motionless, then, without glancing to right or left,
he squared his shoulders and swinging around strode arrogantly from the
library, the two men on either side walking rapidly to keep up with him.
The silence in the library grew oppressive and Kitty was conscious of a
feeling almost of nausea when Nina Potter came toward her.
"Kitty," she said brokenly. "I did you a very great wrong when I wore
your red coat to come here on Sunday night with Leigh."
"Did you not do your husband a greater wrong?" Kitty asked swiftly.
"No." Nina flushed scarlet. "I am a coward, but I am a loyal wife."
"I am entirely to blame," Leigh Wallace turned and addressed Potter
directly. "I was once engaged to your wife. We quarreled and she broke
it off. I never saw or heard from her again until we met this winter.
Nina would not let me pay her any attention, so, forgive me, Kitty, I
went with you because I could be with Nina without arousing talk," he
hesitated.
No one spoke, and, after an instant's pause, Wallace continued:
"On Saturday night Oscar brought me a note from Miss Susan Baird asking
me to come here on Sunday at five o'clock. I did take the peaches from
Mrs. Parsons' table on a silly impulse, for I knew Miss Baird was fond
of them and thought that I could placate her with a gift.
"When I got here she told me how my father had jilted her and of her
hatred of me. She declared that she had secured, through bribing one of
Nina's servants, some old love letters of mine--they were undated, and
she proposed showing them to Ben Potter. I tried in every way to induce
her to return them to me, even offering a large sum of money. She
ordered me out of the house," he paused. "Then I went to Nina and asked
her to see Miss Baird and try to get her to give up the letters."
"So I came over here with Leigh on Sunday night," Nina Potter took
up the story. "Miss Susan had loaned me your red coat, Kitty, last
Wednesday to wear home when it blew up so cold. The coat is distinctive
in appearance, and--well--" she faltered--"I knew if any one saw me,
there was a chance I might be mistaken for you. Afterwards I got rid
of the coat by selling it to a second-hand dealer." She caught her
husband's averted gaze and colored painfully.
"Leigh left me at the side door of 'Rose Hill,'" she added. "I entered
the library--saw Miss Susan sitting there--dead--" she covered her eyes
with her hand as if to shut out some terrifying vision and a shudder
shook her. "I must have fainted, for it was late when I stole out of
the house. I left by the front door, and in my terror I put the big key
in the lock on the outside with some idea of locking poor Miss Susan
in the house. I heard an automobile coming and ran away, forgetting to
turn the key in the lock after all. When I got home I found Ben had not
gotten in and that you were still asleep, Kitty--so--" she faltered
again and glanced appealingly at her husband.
Potter stirred uneasily. "I drove around a bit," he said. "Kitty, as I
thought, coming over here at that time of night with Wallace troubled
me, and I wanted time to think things over. When I heard of Cousin
Susan's murder--well, I--well, I kept silent until my jealousy of
Wallace drove me to try and implicate Kitty and him in the crime.
"I saw you, Ted," he turned to Rodgers, "come out of a second-hand
clothing store on Pennsylvania Avenue with Kitty's coat on your arm.
The dealer told me that you had just paid twenty dollars for it. I
decided that if the coat was worth that to you, it might be worth
double the money to me: so I bribed the dealer to buy the coat back
from you. When that scheme failed, I went to your apartment--"
"Where you failed again," broke in Rodgers. "Your coat was accidentally
burned up, Kitty, all except one pocket. In that pocket I found the
clue which gave the first inkling that Charles Craige might have
murdered your aunt--"
"What was it?" demanded Kitty breathlessly.
"An 'I.O.U.,' which your aunt must have slipped inside the coat pocket
and forgotten. The signature was obliterated, but I recognized Craige's
handwriting," Rodgers explained. "It showed me that Craige was under
heavy financial obligations to Miss Susan Baird while all the time he
protested absolute ignorance of her wealth. I immediately started to
investigate Craige's career, and it was that investigation, as he said
a few minutes ago, which forced his hand last night--"
"And he nearly killed you!" Kitty's eyes were shining as she faced her
lover. "You endangered your life for me--"
Regardless of the others' presence Rodgers drew her to his side.
"Sweetheart," he murmured. "Sweetheart--"
"Ahem!" Ben Potter cleared his throat, and faced the others.
"Did you get your letters, Nina?" he asked, turning to his wife.
"Not then, only this afternoon," she explained. "I found them in a box
under the mattress of Miss Susan's bed. Mrs. Parsons suspected that
I was searching for something, for yesterday she told me that for a
considerable sum of money she would aid me."
"That woman was a fiend incarnate!" ejaculated Rodgers.
"She sho'ly was, Sah," agreed Oscar. "She done her bes' to make me tell
de police that ole Miss let people have money. Yo' see, Miss Kitty,
ole Miss had me to help her, an' I promised never to tell, an' I never
broke my promise, never."
"Oscar!" Kitty's eyes were dim with tears as she laid her hand on the
faithful servant's shoulder. "Where did you disappear yesterday?"
"Jes' went down to my rooms an' laid low," promptly. "Mandy an' me
thought things were gettin' kinda critical 'round hyar. Las' night I
heered yo' an' Mister Rodgers a-plannin' to see Mister Craige, an' then
I went home again, scared stiff."
"Wait, Oscar--" Rodgers interrupted him quickly. "Why did you ask me to
find Miss Kitty's red coat?"
"I seen some one a-wearin' dat coat enter dis house as I was passin'
along de street late Sunday night," the negro explained. "I couldn't
swear it warn't yo', Miss Kitty, an' I couldn't swear it were; but I
calculated dat whoever 'twas might a lef' somethin' in de coat pockets
to tell on them."
"It was a clever thought," exclaimed Rodgers. "But it would have been
better had you taken me entirely into your confidence, Oscar."
"Yessir." But Oscar looked doubtful. "I was mighty concarned 'bout Miss
Kitty, 'deed I was, Sah. It warn't 'till jes' a spell back that that
detecertif man, Mister Welsh, who tried to find me in Front Royal an'
at las' found me to home, 'splained to me I had orter be hyar wif yo',
Honey, Miss Kitty, so then I comed round wif him."
Leigh Wallace heard the old man to the end, then stared moodily across
the library. He started for the doorway and turned around.
"I've destroyed your letters, Nina," he said. "I, forgive me, I feared
that you had killed Miss Susan Baird on Sunday night. That was why I
was so overcome when the crime was discovered. Mr. Potter," he spoke
with deep feeling. "Your wife loves you devotedly. I am but a forgotten
incident in her life. I received my orders for foreign service to-day.
Good-by." He clicked his heels together and with a bow which included
all in the library, turned and strode from the room.
At sound of the front door closing, Potter stepped forward. He was
oblivious of any one's presence but his wife.
"Nina, can you forgive me?" he asked humbly. "I have acted the part of
a jealous fool."
Nina's answer was not in words. With a face in which joy obliterated
the shadow of the past few days, she slipped her arm within his and he
led her from the room.
"Doan yo' wait hyar, Miss Kitty--" Oscar came forward a pace. "Jes' you
an' Mister Rodgers go right along. I'll stay wid dis--" and he nodded
significantly at Rodgers. The latter turned to take a last survey of
the library. Not far from Cecelia Parsons lay a small furry body--both
were rigid in death.
"Come, sweetheart--" Rodgers slipped his arm around Kitty and they
walked toward the drawing room. Once there Kitty gave way to the grief
consuming her.
"Poor Aunt Susan--how could Charles Craige have had the heart to kill
her!" she exclaimed. "He was her trusted friend."
"He was a man of masks," Rodgers said gravely. "A man of character,
well educated, a social favorite and a brilliant lawyer, but heredity
proved too strong for him." And as Kitty looked at him in question, he
added, "Were you not aware that his father died insane?"
Kitty shook her head. "I never knew it," she said. "How dreadful! The
whole affair--Aunt Susan's death--her life, oh, Ted, her life!"
"Hush!" Rodgers laid his finger gently on her lips. "Let us forget the
tragedy in our happiness."
Glancing shyly upward, Kitty read the worship in his eyes and her
rapidly beating heart sang a glad response.
"All my life I have prayed for love," she murmured as he took her in
his arms; "even when I was only a little lonely child--and now to feel
such happiness as I never even imagined. To have you with me always--"
"In our Kingdom of Love"--Rodgers' tender, caressing voice was melody
in her ears--"My queen--my queen!"
THE END
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:
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