Read Ebook: The silver blade: The true chronicle of a double mystery by Walk Charles Edmonds Wenzell A B Albert Beck Illustrator

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Ebook has 1133 lines and 51041 words, and 23 pages

He remained still so long that she began to manifest some impatience. "You attach no importance to it, do you?" she asked with some misgiving.

He did not respond immediately. Now was an occasion when his ability absolutely to conceal all feeling could serve him admirably. Looking at Charlotte he had not the heart to tell her that she was innocently supplying such serious connecting links to the chain of evidence tightening about her beloved friend. While the handwriting on the second envelope in no wise resembled the writing on the charred fragment of the "Paquita" letter, further than that both were feminine, yet that circumstance of Joyce's ambidexterity--how portentous it was!

So, when he finally responded, he plunged into another phase of the subject, as if he had not heard her question.

"Miss Fairchild," briskly, "I must progress toward the final and most important matter which I came here to present to you, and again I take occasion to warn you that this part of my recital will require a great deal of your fortitude. You must believe, now, that I have worked untiringly--unceasingly--in this matter?"

"I believe that, Mr. Converse."

"Very good. Now, endeavor not only to keep before you what I have already told you, but please follow me as closely as you can.... First, however, assure me upon one point, though it may seem inconsequential and even presuming in me to speak of it; but before I am done you will understand. Is there any attachment between your brother and Miss Westbrook?"

She regarded him with serious eyes.

"Mr. Converse," she began, with a sudden assumption of reserve and restraint, "that is a very delicate and, to me, sacred matter; but I--" She checked herself, and once more regarded him gravely; her manner quickly changed, and again she became frank and open. "I do not believe you would ask it were it not important that I answer you frankly. Never have Clay and I exchanged a word upon the subject; but I am a woman--his sister--and I love him dearly; I see a great deal more than he would ever suspect. Mr. Converse, please respect this confidence: I believe there has never been a time when Clay did not love Joyce, dear, darling, beautiful girl that she is. As for her, I do not know. She has a warm attachment for Clay; she admires him; still, she is so young--her life has been so gay and light-hearted, so entirely free from any care and responsibility--that it is pleasant to think no strong emotion has yet laid its touch upon her heart. To her, Clay has been a playmate, a loved comrade, a friend; whether he is destined ever to be more, I cannot say. But I believe I have told you the exact status of their intimacy, for it has occupied my thoughts often, often, often."

"This confidence has not injured your brother; and you have my word of honor that it is as sacred with me as with yourself."

"That will do; I can now hear anything you have to tell me."

He paused a moment. He knew he must hurt her, however carefully he might unfold the intelligence he had come to convey, and so why prolong the anxiety by trying to temper it? So he said, slowly, deliberately:

"Miss Fairchild, the one person that we have so far been unable to account for, to whom we must look for the explanation of these crimes is--a woman."

A slight gasp from his hearer caused him to pause again. Briefly he gauged her strength.

"That woman was alone with your brother about the time of De Sanchez's death. In short, the assassin could have been no place but in Mr. Nettleton's office; and no one was there besides those two."

"Merciful God! Clay!"

"Wait!" hastily. "Your brother is innocent--I am sure of that--but the woman--"

Charlotte sat quivering as if with an ague, deadly white.

"Who?--who?" she gasped, huskily, when he paused.

"The facts all say--Joyce Westbrook."

"Oh, don't--don't!" She arose and stood unsteadily confronting him. "I can't--I will not listen to this. It is abominable. You have stumbled into some terrible error that may be explained. Why, Mr. Converse, this will kill Joyce. Oh, how horrible! how horrible!"

"Error?" said he, with extraordinary gentleness. "Ah, Miss Fairchild, I hate to pain you so, but somebody must be stirred to action. I cannot reach to the Doctor's or his sister's sensibilities in their morbid state of mind; and if she will not unlock her lips, I cannot speak of the result. Error? I admit its possibility. I spent an exceedingly bad half-hour this morning trying to persuade Doctor Westbrook and Miss Joyce that I was more than willing to meet them on this ground. But no. If I have, as you say, stumbled into a bog of error, they left me to get back to terra firma again as best I could. If we can agree upon this point, we have an excellent position from which to operate; and for the young lady's sake I would so agree."

"Mr. Converse, Mr. Converse," moaned Charlotte, as if a mortal physical wound had been dealt her. "Wait! I can't bear it! The idea is so hideous--so monstrous--"

"With all respect, dear lady, I sincerely hope that she is the victim of an extraordinary concurrence of circumstances--and no more. But her position is even far more desperate and dangerous than you could possibly imagine."

Charlotte sat down again, and quietly--very quietly--watched her interlocutor. She appeared stunned. Presently she asked with bated breath:

"What will happen? My God! do you wish to lead me to answering your unanswered question? Do you wish me to say that Paquita--oh, that wretched name!--spells disaster for those that are dearest to me?" She uttered a laugh of bitterest scorn. "If my loyalty amounted to no more than that," with a slight emphatic gesture of one clenched hand, "I would be the most despicable creature on the face of the earth. Now--"

"I am not responsible for the existing condition, Miss Fairchild; I only want to convince you of the extreme urgency of the situation. I have told you a friend was in trouble, and that you would have an opportunity to succor that friend; but it is more than a trouble; that friend is menaced by the gravest peril imaginable."

Rapidly he laid before her, one by one, his reasons for suspecting Joyce Westbrook; and as his hearer saw how deadly serious the cumulative facts were, she gradually grew outwardly composed, yielding no hint of how his words were impressing her.

Next he told of Joyce's movements the preceding night, concluding:

"And now, Miss Fairchild, the most damaging feature against her is her refusal to deny or admit anything at all. I need only an eye-witness who saw her in or about the Nettleton Building, and--" A grim tightening of his hard-featured face put a sufficiently obvious period to the thought.

"Mobley must tell me what he knows," she said presently, her voice trembling. "I do not promise to repeat it, for I am ignorant of its nature; but if I can see in this secret the way to finding light upon the deed of which it is a child, you shall know." She fairly startled the Captain by springing from her seat and grasping his arm. Some sudden joyous thought had evidently flooded her intelligence, and her manner imparted its quickening impulse to him.

"Mr. Converse--where you are wrong--your error--" she cried, in disjointed phrases. "Why did you never think of it? Joyce was not in the Nettleton Building that day. The--"

"But, my dear lady--" he sought to interrupt; but her new-born enthusiasm bore him down.

"The fact that no one can be found who saw her--why, she was not there. She is involved in something else of a very personal nature, and she shrinks from explaining. That must be it."

Converse's attitude was very dubious.

"You say you have no eye-witness--no one who actually saw her?" she persisted.

"Yes--that is true; but--" He stopped. "Wait, please," he concluded in an altered tone, as he suddenly recognized Mr. Follett's servant, Joe, approaching from the trolley-line. "If I am not mistaken, here comes a messenger for me."

MISS CHARLOTTE BECOMES A FACTOR

That Joe's errand had carried him to the Westbrook home in search of the Captain, and thence to the cottage, could signify only a matter of the utmost emergency; so Converse watched his approach with some curiosity, wondering why his friend, Mr. Follett, should be in such haste to find him. He thought of the advertisement seeking information concerning the unknown woman.

The negro approached and handed him a much-soiled envelope; and this is what he read:

Slade was here this A.M. Claims to have seen and recognized woman in Nettleton Bldg. at time of De S. murder. Holds out for more money, so be careful. He is up to some game; but I think he really knows.

It was indeed from Abram, and had been hurriedly penned at No. 18 Ash Lane.

After the message was delivered, and while it was being read, Charlotte noted that it had the effect of producing a peculiar change in the countenance of the reader: his mouth puckered, as if for a whistle, though none was emitted; while his right eyebrow lifted in a manner that left a queer, quizzical expression on his weather-beaten visage.

He pocketed the missive without comment; scratched a word of acknowledgment on the envelope, which he handed to Joe--temporarily an ebon-hued Mercury--with an injunction to return at once to Mr. Follett.

For a time he sat in a silence that was pensive, even though his inflexible frame and countenance were not. How strange that the message should come to hand just at this juncture!--at the moment when he was obliged to admit the absence of a witness that had seen the woman. And that witness Slade! Was Joyce Westbrook the woman? There was that in the bare fact of Slade's being the person who was possessed of this knowledge which made the Captain feel that the coil was tightening irresistibly about the girl, for he was beginning to acquire his own idea as to what "Slade's Blessing" might signify; an idea utterly different from the more universal one. But he would say nothing further to harrow this much troubled lady beside him. After a while he turned to Charlotte with some abruptness.

"Now then, Miss Fairchild, you pretty well understand the status of both the cases. The main thing is, now, do you"--he emphasized the pronoun--"appreciate the seriousness of Miss Westbrook's position? If you do not, if this hour spent with you is barren of results, I shall be obliged openly to take her into custody, put Mr. Mountjoy in possession of the case, and let the law take its course. If I do not, some one else will. I dislike being so blunt, but these issues must be met squarely."

"I cannot be further shocked, Mr. Converse. I will do all that lies in my humble power. If Joyce was in the Nettleton Building that afternoon, it had been far better for Mobley to have announced it at once, whatever the result might have been."

Her hearer considerately refrained from again mentioning the possible reason for silence. Instead he said:

"You are now prepared to hear the main object of my call. The early part of last night I spent in going carefully over all that I have set before you, but more particularly as it concerns your brother's disappearance. It has become plain that, whatever our attempts to locate him may have failed in, they have at least proved one thing--that he never left the city. Who should know better where he is than his sister?"

"Believe me, Mr. Converse," she began quickly; but he held up a restraining hand.

"Wait," said he. "Let me finish. This is when I resolved to bully and frighten you--to get the information from you willy-nilly,--and behold to what that resolution has come! Now, I am not going to embarrass you at this time by asking you where Mr. Clay is, or even if you know where he is; but I do expect that by to-morrow night," he gave her a look full of meaning, and repeated, "that by to-morrow night, Miss Fairchild, some result will come from this interview; either that I shall hear from your brother, Doctor Westbrook, Miss Joyce, or all of them."

"What I started to say when you interrupted me is, that I do not know where Clay is. There is where I have been kept in ignorance."

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