Part 23 (1/2)
”Mr. Fulton,” Braceway explained, after the introduction to Bristow, ”wants to tell you something about his--about Mrs. Withers. It brings in further complications--hard ones for us.”
CHAPTER XII
THE MAN WITH THE GOLD TOOTH
Mr. Fulton's arms trembled as he put his hands on the arms of a chair and seated himself with the deliberateness of his years. In his face the lines were still deep, and once or twice his mouth twisted as if with actual pain, but there was in his eyes the flame of an indomitable will.
He was by no means a crushed and weak old man. Neither the terrific blow of his daughter's death nor the reverses he had suffered in his business affairs had broken him.
”What I have to say,” he began, looking first at Braceway and then at Bristow, ”is not a pleasant story, but it has to be told.”
His low-pitched, modulated voice was clear and without a tremor. His glance at the two men gave them the impression that he paid them a certain tribute.
”Both of you,” he continued, ”are gentlemen. Mr. Braceway, you're a personal friend of my son-in-law. Mr. Bristow, I know you will respect my confidence, in so far as it can be respected.”
They both bowed a.s.sent. At the same moment the telephone rang. Bristow excused himself and answered it. The chief of police was on the wire.
”It's all over!” his voice sounded jubilantly. ”It's all over, and I want you to congratulate me, congratulate me and yourself. It was quick work.”
”What do you mean?” queried Bristow.
”The inquest is over. The coroner's jury found that Mrs. Withers came to her death at the hands of Perry Carpenter.”
”And you're satisfied?”
”Sure, I'm satisfied! We've found the guilty man, and he's under lock and key. What more do I want? I'll tell you what, I'll be up to have dinner with you in a little while. I invite myself,” this with a chuckle. ”You and I will have a little celebration dinner. It is a go?”
”By all means. I'll be delighted to have you, and I want to hear all about the inquest.”
Bristow went back to the porch.
”That,” he told them, ”was a message from the chief of police. He says the coroner's jury has held the negro, Perry Carpenter, for the crime.”
Mr. Fulton moved forward in his chair, his hands clutching the arms of it tightly.
”I'll never believe it, never!” he declared, evidently indignant.
”Nothing will ever persuade me that Enid, Mrs. Withers, met her death at the hands of an ordinary negro burglar.”
”What makes you so positive of that?” Bristow asked curiously.
”Because of what has happened in the past,” Fulton replied with emphasis.
”I was about to tell you. This man none of you have been able to find, this man with the gold tooth, has been in Enid's life for a good many years. I don't understand why you haven't found him; I really don't.”
”We haven't had two whole days to work on this case yet,” Bristow reminded him politely. ”Many developments may arise.”
”I hope so; I hope so,” he said sharply. ”That man must be found.”
”One moment,” Braceway put in with characteristic quickness; ”how do you know he's been in your daughter's life, Mr. Fulton?”