The Mansion of Mystery | Page 6

would generally add. "Beats all how bloodthirsty some folks can get. He must have cut her short on money or something and she was too high-strung to stand it."
"No, it ain't that," another would answer. "She's been flirting around with a certain young man, a Wall Street gambler, and her mother wouldn't have it and told her so. That's the real trouble, my way of thinking."
Inside of the house all was as quiet as a tomb save for the ticking of the long clock in the lower hall. Below, a single policeman was on guard, in company with a woman, who had been sent in to help: Upstairs another woman was stationed, to see that Margaret Langmore might not take it upon herself to leave for parts unknown.
Margaret sat in her own room, in the wing on the second floor, a dainty apartment, trimmed in blue and containing all her girlish treasures. On the walls were numerous photographs of her old schoolmates and the flag of the seminary she had attended. And on the mantel rested the picture of Raymond Case, the high polish of the surface marred in one spot where a tear had fallen upon it.
The girl was tall and slender, with a wealth of light-brown hair and eyes of deepest blue. It was more than a pretty face, for it had a certain sadness that was touching.
For several minutes the girl had not moved. Now, as the door opened and the woman who was on guard upstairs came in, she gave a long sigh.
"Can I do anything?" asked the woman, in a voice that was not unkindly.
"Nothing, thank you, Mrs. Morse."
"Would you like a cup of tea, or a bit of toast? Mrs. Jessup can make it easy enough--she has nothing at all to do."
"I do not care to touch a thing."
The answer came in a dreary monotone. The girl's trials were beginning to tell upon her. At first she had tried to bear up bravely, and the words Raymond had spoken had comforted her, but now he was gone and the whole world looked dark once more.
"Has anybody called?" she asked at length.
"Nobody to see you."
"Nobody?" Margaret began to pace the floor. "When did the coroner say the examination was to be continued?" she went on.
"To-morrow morning at eleven o'clock."
"And who is to be put on the stand?"
At this question the woman in charge began to fidget. "Excuse me, miss, but I was ordered not to answer questions. I'm sorry, and I wish you wouldn't worry so much. If I can do anything else--"
"You can do nothing."
At that moment came the sounds of carriage wheels and a cab from the depot drew up to the door. Margaret looked through the slats of a blind and saw that the arrivals were Raymond Case and a stranger, a man wearing a rather ordinary suit of clothing and a rough slouch hat.
"Thank Heaven, Raymond has brought somebody!" murmured the girl.
There was a short consultation at the front door and she heard the young man say: "He has a perfect right here and I demand admittance for us both." Then another murmur followed and the pair came upstairs. They knocked on the door of Margaret's room and were admitted, and Mrs. Morse was told that she might go.
"This gentleman has come to give Miss Langmore some advice," said Raymond Case. "If we want you we will call."
"But I have orders--"
"Miss Langmore will remain in this room, so you have nothing to fear. She has a legal right to receive advice."
"Oh, if the gentleman is a lawyer I have nothing to say," was the retort, and Mrs. Morse swept from the room.
The instant she was gone, the young man closed the door and then rushed up to Margaret Langmore and kissed her.
"I have succeeded!" he cried. "I told you I would. This is Mr. Adam Adams. Mr. Adams, this is Miss Margaret Langmore. Now, I guess we are going to show these country bumpkins a thing or two!" he added earnestly.
The detective advanced and shook hands. Margaret Langmore was a trifle disappointed in his appearance and her face clouded for an instant. Raymond was quick to notice it.
"You mustn't judge a man by his appearance. Mr. Adams makes himself look that way on purpose. He's the smartest, swiftest--"
"That will do," interrupted the detective with a brief smile.
"Will you help me?" The girl eyed the detective squarely. "I--I need help so much."
"I must hear your story first."
"Oh, I thought Raymond would tell you everything."
"He has told me all he knows. But I want to hear the story from your own lips. Something may have slipped him, you know."
"I will tell you everything. Please sit down."
Margaret Langmore began her narrative. It was fully an hour before she finished. Occasionally the detective asked a