Part 50 (1/2)
”That reminds me. I was just about to call you up, but your news made me forget. I've a wire from Braceway, just got it. He filed it at Salisbury, on his way here. Let me read it to you:
”'Have all the stuff I can get on Withers case. Can not go further before conferring with you, Bristow, Fulton, and Abrahamson. Please arrange meeting of all these Bristow's bungalow eight tonight. Withers not with me.'”
”That fits in,” Bristow commented; ”lets me start for New Orleans on the late night train.”
”Wonder what he's got,” the chief questioned. ”Do you know?”
”No. And I don't believe it amounts to anything. Still, if he wants to talk, we might as well hear it.”
”Sure! You can count on me. I'll be there.”
”All right,” said Bristow. ”I'll see you at eight, then.”
He went to the sleeping porch and lay down.
”'Withers not with me,'” the last words of the telegram lingered in his mind. ”Why did he add that? What's that to do with a conference here tonight?”
Suddenly the answer occurred to him.
”It's Withers!” he thought, at first only half-credulous. ”He's going to put it on Withers; he's going to try to put it on Withers.”
He paused, thinking ”wild” for a moment, so great was his surprise.
”It was Withers he was after from the start,--was it?”
CHAPTER XXVII
THE REVELATION
Braceway and Maria Fulton had upon their faces that expression which announces a happy understanding between lovers. The light of surrender was in her eyes, contented surrender to the man who, because of his love, had a.s.serted his mastery of her. And his voice, as he spoke to her, was all a vibrant tenderness. He realized that he had found and finally made certain his happiness, had done so at the very moment of making public his greatest professional triumph.
For his visit to her he had stolen a half-hour from the rush of work that had devolved upon him since reaching Furmville a few hours ago. He found her as he had expected; she fulfilled his prophecy that, in following her own ideals, she would take her place in the world as a fascinating personality, a lovable woman.
But, while he studied and praised her new charm, he was conscious, more keenly so than ever before, that his success would affect her greatly, would challenge all her strength and courage. And yet, even if it hurt her, it had to be done. It was his duty, and the consequences would have to take care of themselves.
Although, in her turn, she regarded him with the fine intuition of the woman who loves, she got no intimation of his worry. He had determined not to burden her with the details in advance. If what he was about to do should link her dead sister with a pitiless scandal, she would meet it bravely.
Unless he had been confident of that, he could not have loved her. His task was to hand over to justice the guilty man, and not even his concern for the woman he would marry could interfere with his seeing the thing through.
After it was all over, he would come back to comfort her. Their new happiness would counter-balance all. So he thought, with confidence.
A glance through the window showed him Greenleaf and Abrahamson coming slowly up Manniston Road. It was eight o'clock. A few moments later he and Mr. Fulton joined them on the sidewalk. They went at once to No. 9.
Bristow received them in his living room, the table still littered with newspaper clippings on the Loutois kidnapping.
”If the rest of you don't mind,” Braceway suggested, ”we'd better close the windows. We've a lot of talking to do, and we might as well keep things to ourselves.”
The effect of alertness which he always produced was more evident now than ever. He kept his cane and himself in continual motion. While the four other men seated themselves, he remained standing, facing them, his back to the empty fire-place.