The Mystery Girl
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“Suppose I say I – he killed himself,” she said, “will you believe me?”
“With your stiletto?” asked Stone, quickly.
“Y – Yes.”
“And then you took the stiletto home and hid it?”
“Yes.”
“What for?”
“To shield his memory. Suicide is a coward’s act.”
“Rubbish!” Fibsy exploded, unable to keep quiet any longer. “I say, Miss Mystery, you are a mystery! Why don’t you tell what you know. It’s up to you. Here you were with the victim, shortly before his death, you probably know all about what happened. By the way, how did you get out?”
“Out the same way I came in.”
“And bolted that window-door behind you?”
“Oh – no – well, you see – ”
“I see you are not to say another word, Miss Austin,” Trask decreed. “I’m very sorry I asked Mr. Stone to take up this case. However, I shall take you home now, then I’ll come back and I hope I can persuade Mr. Stone to discontinue his work. If I’d had any idea of these disclosures you’ve made, I never should have engaged his services. Come, Anita, I will take you home. Mr. Stone, await my return. I shan’t be long.”
The two went, and Stone, pacing up and down the long room said musingly, “All centers round that girl.”
“Righto,” said Fibsy, “but she didn’t kill the man.”
“The trouble is, Terence, your saying that doesn’t make it so.”
“No, but its being so makes me say it.”
Gordon Lockwood came in, his face full of anxiety.
“I’m glad to see you alone for a moment, Mr. Stone,” he said. “I saw Trask taking Miss Austin home. Now, tell me, please, can you get at the truth about that girl?”
“I haven’t as yet. She’s as great a mystery as the death of Doctor Waring.”
“She is. But I have every faith in her. She is the victim of some delusion – ”
“Delusion?”
“Yes; I mean she’s under a mistaken sense of duty to somebody, or – ”
“State your meaning more definitely, will you?”
“I’m not sure that I can. But I’m positive – ”
“Ah, now, Mr. Lockwood,” this from Fibsy, “you’re positive the young lady is an angel of light, because you’re head over heels in love with her. That’s all right, and I don’t blame you – but, take it from me, you’ll prove your case quicker, better and more surely, if you investigate the secret of Miss Mystery, than if you just go around babbling about her innocence and purity.”
Lockwood looked at the boy, ready to resent his impudence. But Fibsy’s serious face and honest eyes carried conviction and the secretary at once took him for an ally.
“You’re right, McGuire,” he said; “and, I for one am not afraid of the result of a thorough investigation of Miss Austin’s affairs.”
“You’ve reason to be, though,” Stone observed. “I can’t be sure, of course, but many stray hints and bits of evidence, to my mind point to Miss Austin’s close connection with the whole matter.”
“What is your theory as to the death, Mr. Stone,” Lockwood asked. “Suicide or murder?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. I’m quite ready to form an opinion when I get some real evidence. I’m through questioning Miss Austin – I shouldn’t have let her go otherwise. I want next to do a lot of further questioning. And I’d very much like to get hold of that servant, Nogi.”
“You think he’s implicated?” Lockwood stared.
“Why else would he run away? He must be found. He is probably the key to the whole situation.”
“Guilty?”
“Maybe and maybe not. If he and Miss Austin were in collusion – ”
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Stone, but I cannot have any thing said in my presence that reflects on that young lady’s good name. We are engaged to be married – that is, I consider myself bound to her, and hope to win her full consent.”
“But I understood – I thought, Trask – ”
“Mr. Trask wants to marry her, but I hardly think his suit will succeed. The lady must decide, of course, but I have reason to hope – ”
“Gee, Mr. Lockwood, ’course she’ll take you,” Fibsy informed him, “now, let’s you and me get busy to find out Miss Mystery’s mystery. You ought to know it, if you’re going to marry her – and too, you can’t believe there’s anything that can’t stand the light.”
“What can it be?” Lockwood asked, helplessly. “How can a young girl like that have a real secret that so pervades and surrounds her whole life that she will give no hint of it? Who is she? What is she? Why is she here? I don’t believe she came here merely to sketch in water colors.”
“No,” agreed Stone. “If that were all, why the mystery about her home and family? I understand she has given several contradictory statements as to where she really lives.”
“She has,” assented Lockwood. “But may it not be just a twist of her humorous nature? I assure you she is roguishly inclined – ”
“No; it isn’t a joke,” Fibsy said, frowning at the thought. “She’s got a real secret, a mystery that means a whole lot to her, – and prob’ly to other people. Well, F. Stone, I guess it’s up to me to go out and seek her people.” He sighed deeply. “I hate to leave the seat of war, but I gotta do it. Nobody else could ever ferret out the antecedents and general family doings of Miss Mystery but Yours Truly. And this is no idle boast. I’m going out for the goods and I’ll fetch home the bacon.”
He looked glum at the prospect, for it looked like no easy or simple matter that he proposed to undertake.
“You see,” he went on, “that girl is stubborn – my, but she’s stubborn. You’ll have a handful, Mr. Lockwood. But if so be’s you’re willing to face the revelations, I’ll go and dig ’em up.”
“Where do you think you’ll go, Terence?” asked Stone.
“To California, F. S., of course. Didn’t that telegram come from there? All I’ve got to do is to find ‘A’ and the ‘Carl’ that she ‘annexed’ and there’s your mystery of the young lady solved. But the death of the Doctor – that’s another thing.”
“Do you really mean this?” Lockwood said, staring at Fibsy. “How can you find a needle in a haystack, like that?”
“I can’t – but I’ve gotta.”
“But it’s so much simpler to get the information from Miss Austin herself.”
“You call that simple!” Fibsy looked at him. “Well, it isn’t. It’s easier to go to Mars, I should say, than to get any real information out of that little scrap of waywardness.”
“No, nothing can be learned from her,” said Stone.
“Then, shall I be off?” asked Fibsy.
“Wait twenty-four hours, my lad, and then if we’re no further along, I suppose you’ll have to go. Nogi must be found.”
“I’m glad Mr. Trask called you in, Mr. Stone,” Lockwood said, slowly, “but I do hope you won’t associate any thought of Miss Austin with the crime. She could no more commit crime than a small kitten could.”
“I fancy you’re right,” and Stone, half absent-mindedly, “but opinions as to what people can or can’t do, are of not much real use.”
“Have you a theory?”
“Yes, I have a theory, but the facts don’t fit it – and it seems as if they could not be made to. Yet it’s a good theory.”
“You don’t care to tell it to me?”
“Why, I’m willing to do so. My theory is that John Waring committed suicide, but I can’t make any facts bear me out. You see, it’s not only the absence of a weapon, but all absence of motive, and even of opportunity.”
“Surely he had opportunity – in here alone.”
“It can’t be opportunity if he had no implement handy. And nothing can explain away the missing weapon, and the locked room, on the suicide theory.”
“What can explain the locked room, on a murder theory?” Lockwood asked.
“I haven’t thought of anything as yet. What book was Doctor Waring reading that night?”
“There were several on his desk, but the one that was found nearest the body, the one stained with blood, is a copy of Martial’s Epigrams.”
“May I see it, please?”
Lockwood brought the book and Fleming Stone examined it carefully. It was not a rare or finely bound edition, it seemed more a working copy or a book for reference. It was printed in Latin.
“He was fond of Martial?” asked Stone.
“He was a reader of all the classics. He preferred them, of course, in their original Latin or Greek. He was also a modern linguist.”
Stone opened the volume to the stained page, which was numbered 87. He studied it closely.
“It’s all Greek to me,” he said, frowning, “even though it’s Latin, but I hoped to read something on the page beside the printed text.”
However, the irregularly shaped red blur gave him no clue, and he returned the book to Lockwood.
“Had the Doctor any private accounts?” the detective asked suddenly.
“Not that I know of,” replied the secretary. “He was a man of singularly few secrets, and I was always at liberty to open all letters, and had free access to his desk and safe. I never knew him to hide or secrete a paper of any sort.”
“No harm in looking,” Stone said, and began forthwith to search the desk drawers and compartments.
The search was fruitless, until at length, a small checkbook was found.
And a curious revelation it gave them. For of its blank checks but one had been torn out, and the remaining stub gave the information that it was a check for ten thousand dollars drawn to the order of Anita Austin.
Those who looked at it stared incredulously.
“It is dated,” Stone said, “the date that Doctor Waring died.”
It was. Had this too, been given to the strange young woman, whom Stone was beginning to designate to himself by the title of adventuress? Was it possible that young girl, who seemed scarce more than a child, had some how maneuvered to get all this from a man whom she had deliberately fascinated and infatuated?
It was incredible – yet what else could be assumed?
Gordon Lockwood looked deeply distressed. His lips set in a tight line, and he said, through his clenched teeth:
“I don’t care! Nothing can shake my faith in that girl! She is blameless, and only these misleading circumstances make you think otherwise, Mr. Stone.”
The detective looked at him as one might regard a hopeless lunatic.
But young McGuire’s face was a study.
He looked horror-stricken and then dazed. Then he had an inspiration apparently, for he smiled broadly – only to lapse again into a profound gloom.
“If it ain’t the beatin’est!” he said, at last. “Whatcha make of it, F. Stone?”
“I’m completely staggered for the moment. Fibs,” the detective returned, “but these cumulative evidences of Miss Mystery’s – er – acquisitive disposition, seem – I say seem to lead to a suspicion of her undue influence over Doctor Waring, at least, as to obtaining money.”
“Oh, she didn’t!” Lockwood fairly groaned. “Don’t blame her! Perhaps Waring fell a victim to her beauty and grace, and perhaps he urged these gifts upon her – ”
“Perhaps,” Fibsy said; “perhaps he threatened to kill her if she didn’t accept his checks and coin and rubies! – and maybe she had to kill him in self-defense – ”
“Self-defense!” Lockwood cried, grasping at any straw. “Could it have been that?”
“No,” Stone said; “be rational, man, whatever made Anita Austin kill Doctor Waring, it wasn’t a case of self-defense.”
CHAPTER XVII
PLANNING AN ELOPEMENT
There was some sort of telepathy or some subconscious impulse that made Anita Austin open her bedroom door in response to a light tap, although she had resolved to talk to nobody just then.
But when she saw Gordon Lockwood she was glad she had, and, without waiting for an invitation he stepped inside the room and closed the door.
He looked at her with a face full of compassion and love, but he spoke as one who must attend to an important business.
“Anita,” he said, speaking very low, “the crisis has come. They have learned of the check Doctor Waring gave you that night, and it is the last straw. Stone is already, I think, convinced of your guilt, and that young chap, McGuire, will get at the bottom of everything, I’m sure.”
“Check? What do you mean?” Miss Mystery said, with a blank look on her face.
“Don’t equivocate with me, dear.” Lockwood laid his hand gently on hers. “There’s no time now to tell you of my love, as I want to tell it. Now, we can only assume that it is all told, that we are engaged, and that we are to be married at once. We are going to elope, Anita.”
“Elope!” she stared at him, but her eyes grew soft and her pale cheeks flushed. “What do you mean?”
“It isn’t a pretty word,” Gordon smiled, “but it’s the only thing to do, you see. If you stay here, you’ll be arrested. If you go, I go with you. So – we both go, and that makes it an elopement.”
“But, Gordon – ”
“But, Anita – answer me just one question – do you love me?”
“Yes,” with an adorable upward glance and smile.
“More than you loved Doctor Waring?”
Their eyes met. Lockwood’s usually inscrutable face was desperately eager, and his deep eyes showed smouldering passion. He held her by the shoulders, he looked steadily at her, awaiting her answer.
“Yes,” she said, at last, her lovely lips quivering.
“That’s all I want to know!” he whispered, triumphantly, as he kissed the scarlet lips, and drew the slender form into his embrace.
“You must know more – ” she began, “and – and I can’t tell you. Oh, Gordon – ”
She hid her face on his broad shoulder, and he gently stroked her hair, as he said:
“Don’t tell me anything now, dearest. Don’t ever tell me, unless you choose. And, anyway, I know it all. I know you had never known the Doctor before, and I’ll tell you how I know. I found in his scrap basket a note to you – ”
“A note to me!” Fresh terror showed in the dark eyes.
“Yes – don’t mind. No one else ever saw it. I burned it. But it said, ‘Darling Anita. Since you came into my life, life is worth living’ – or something like that – ”
“When – when did he write that?”
“Sometime on that fatal Sunday. I suppose after he met you in the afternoon, and before you came that evening. Remember, Sweetheart, if ever you want to tell me all about that late visit to him, do so. But, if not, I never shall ask or expect you to. But that’s all in the future – our dear future, which we shall spend together – together, Anita! Are you glad?”
“Oh, so glad!” and the soft arms crept round his neck and Miss Mystery gave him a kiss that thrilled his very soul. “Will you take care of me, Gordon?”
“Take care of you, my little love! Take care of you, is it? Just give me the chance!”
“You seem to have a pretty big chance, right now,” a smiling face reached up to his. “But – ” she seemed suddenly to recollect something, “about a check – he didn’t give me a check – ”
Lockwood laid a hand over her mouth.
“Hush, dearest. Don’t tell me things that aren’t – aren’t so. I saw the stub – a check for ten thousand dollars – made out to Anita Austin, and dated that very Sunday. Now, hush – ” as she began to speak, “we’ve no time to talk these things over. I tell you the police are on your track. They will come here, they will arrest you – try to get that in your head. I am going to save you – first, for your own sweet sake, and also for my own.”
“But, Gordon, wait a minute. Do you believe I killed John Waring?”
Lockwood looked at her.
“Don’t ask me that, Anita. And, truly, I don’t know whether I believe it or not. I know you have told falsehoods, I know you were there that night, I know of his letter to you, of the check and of the ruby pin and the money. But I – no, I do not know that you killed him. There are many other theories possible – there’s Nogi – but, my darling, it all makes no difference. I love you, I want you, whatever the circumstances or conditions of your life, or your deeds. I love you so, that I want you even if you are a criminal – for in that case, I want to protect and save you. Now, don’t tell me you did or didn’t kill the man, for – ” he gave her a whimsical smile, “I couldn’t believe you in either case! I’ve not much opinion of your veracity, and, too, it’s too big a matter to talk about now. Of course I don’t believe you killed him! You, my little love! And yet, the evidence is so overpowering that I – believe you did kill him! There, how’s that for a platform? Now, let all those things be, and get ready to go away with me. I tell you we’re going to elope and mighty quickly too. The difficulty is, to get away unseen. But it must be done. Pack a small handbag – a very small one. I’ll plan our way out – and if we can make a getaway under the noses of Stone and his boy, we’ll soon be all right. I’ve a friend who will motor us to a nearby town, where a dear old minister, who has known and loved me from boyhood, will marry us.”
“Doesn’t he know about – about me?”
“My little girl, leave all the details of this thing to me. Don’t bother your lovely head about it. It will be all right – trust me – if we can escape.”
“Is it right for me to go? Oughtn’t I stay and – what do they call it? give myself up?”
“Anita, if I didn’t love you so, I’d scold you, hard! Now, you obey your future lord and master, and get ready for a hurry-up wedding, I’m sorry that you can’t have bridesmaids and choir boys – but, you’ll pardon me, I know, if I remind you that that isn’t my fault.”
Miss Mystery looked up and broke into laughter. Truly, she was a mystery! Her gayety was as spontaneous and merry as if she had never heard of crime or tragedy.
Lockwood gazed at her curiously, and then nodded his handsome head, as he said, “You’ll do, Anita! You’re a little bit of all right.”
But in a moment her mood changed.
“Gordon, we can’t,” she said, slowly. “We never can get away from this house – let alone the detectives. Miss Bascom is on continual watch and Mrs. Adams – ”
“I know, dear. That’s it. I thought if you could manage that part, I’d see to evading the Stone faction. Can’t you think up a plan?”
“Love will find a way,” she whispered, and unable to resist the inviting smile, Gordon again caught her in his arms, and held her close in an ecstasy of possession.
“You are so sweet,” he murmured, with an air of saying something important. “Oh, my Little Girl, how I love you! The moment I first saw you – ”
“When was that?”
“That night at – at the Doctor’s lectures. I sat behind you, I changed my seat to do so – and I counted the buttons on your dear little gray frock – that was one way I discovered your presence in the study that night.” He spoke gravely now. “And there was another way. I heard you talking. Yes, I heard your blessed voice – remember, I loved you then – and I heard Waring talking to you. I could make out no word – I didn’t try – but now I wish I had – for it might help you.”
“I wish you had, Gordon,” she returned, solemnly, “it would have helped me.”
“But you can tell me, dear, tell me all the conversation. Surely you trust me now.”
“I trust you – but – oh, as you say, there’s no time. It’s a long story – a dreadful story – I don’t want to tell you – ”
“Then you shan’t. I’ve promised you that, you know. Not until you want to tell me, will I ask for a word of it.”
“Now, here’s another thing,” and Anita blushed, deeply, “if we go away – as you say – what about – about money?”
Lockwood stared at her. “I have money,” he said; “why do you ask that?”
“But – but the awful detective people – said you – you were terribly in debt.”
“Brave little girl, to say that. I know you hated to. Well, my darling, those precious bills that those precious detectives dug up in my desk, are old bills that were owed by my father – his name was the same as mine – ”
“The same as yours! How queer!”
“Oh, not a unique instance. Anyway, those bills I am paying off as I can. I’m not legally responsible for them, but I want to clear my dad’s name, and all that. Now, all that can wait – while I take unto me a wife, and arrange for her comfort and convenience. But, is there – now remember, I’m not prying – is there any one whose permission you must ask to marry me?”
“No, I’m twenty-one – that’s of age in any state.”
“Why, you aged person! I deemed you about eighteen.”
“Do you mind?”
“No; you goosie! But – your mother, now?”
“Oh – my mother. She doesn’t care what I do.”
“And your father? Forgive me, but I have to ask.”
“My father is dead.”
“Then come along. Let’s begin to get ready to go.”
“Wait a minute – Gordon – to get married – must I – must I tell my real name?”
His eyes clouded a trifle.
“Yes, dear heart,” he said, very gently, “yes, you must.”
“Then I can’t get married, Gordon.”
Miss Mystery sat down and folded her little hands in her lap, her whole attitude that of utter despair.
“But, Sweetheart, no one need know except the minister and witnesses – ”
“And you?”
“Yes – and I – ”
“Oh, I can’t marry you, anyway. I can’t marry anybody. I can’t tell who I am! Oh, let them take me away, and let them arrest me and I hope they’ll convict me – and – ”
“Hush, my precious girl, hush.” Lockwood took her in his arms, and let her stifle her sobs on his breast. He was bewildered. What was the truth about this strange child? For in her abandonment of grief, Anita seemed a very child, a tortured irresponsible soul, whose only haven was in the arms now around her.
“You will go with me, anyway, Anita,” he said, with an air of authority. “I must take care of you. We will go, as I planned. The minister I told you of, is a great and good man, he will advise you – ”
“Oh, no, I don’t want to talk to a minister!”
“Yes, you do. And his wife is a dear good woman. They will take you into their hearts and home – and then we can all decide what to do. At any rate, you must get away from here. Come, now, pack your bag – and would you mind – Anita – if I ask you not to take the – the money and the ruby pin – ”
“But he gave them to me! I tell you, Gordon, John Waring gave me those of his own free will – ”
“Because of his affection for you?”
“Yes; for no other reason! I will keep the pin, anyway – I will!”
“Anita, have you any idea how you puzzle me? how you torture me? Well, take what you like. Will you get ready now, and I will let you know as soon as I can, how and when we can start.”
A loud rap was followed by an immediate opening of the door, and Mrs. Adams came into the room.
She stared at Lockwood, but made no comment on his presence there.
“Miss Austin,” she began, “I do not wish you to stay in my house any longer. I have kept you until now, because my husband was so sorry for you, and refused to turn you out. Nor am I turning you out, but – I wish you would leave us alone, Mr. Lockwood.”
Gordon started to speak, but Anita interrupted him.
“Go, please,” she said, quietly, and Lockwood obeyed.
“I cannot blame you, Mrs. Adams,” Miss Mystery said; “I daresay you have to consider your other boarders, and I thank you for your kindness and forbearance you have shown me so far.”
The tears were in the big dark eyes, and even as they moved Mrs. Adams to sympathy, she also wondered if they were real. “A girl who would redden her lips would be capable of any deceit and duplicity,” Esther Adams reasoned.
But she went on, calmly.
“I come now, Miss Austin, to tell you that Mr. Trask is down stairs and wants to see you. He wants you to go to his house to stay. The Peytons are there, of course, and he offers you the shelter of his roof and protection until this dreadful matter is settled up.”
“Mr. Trask!” Anita looked her amazement.
“Yes; now don’t be silly. You very well know he is mad about you, and he hopes to get you freed and then marry you.”
“Oh, he does!” It was the old, scornful Miss Mystery who spoke. “Well, will you please tell him from me – ”
“Now, don’t you be too hoity-toity, miss! You’re mighty lucky to have a home offered you – ”
“Yes, that’s quite true. Well, Mrs. Adams, will you go down, then and say I’ll be down in a moment or two. Give me time to freshen my appearance a bit.”
“Yes, with paints and powders and cosmetics!” Esther Adams grumbled to herself, as she went down the stairs.
As a matter of fact she quite misjudged the girl. Very rarely did Anita resort to artificial aid of that sort, but when she so desired, she used it as she would any other personal adornment.
“She’s coming down,” Mrs. Adams announced, as she returned to Trask and they waited.
But when the minutes grew to a quarter of an hour, and then nearly to a half, Mrs. Adams again climbed the stairs to hasten proceedings.