Part 48 (1/2)

”Sure, I understand,” Garson replied, with an amiability equal to the Inspector's own.

Burke's manner continued very amicable as he went on speaking.

”You see, Joe, anyhow, we've got the right party safe enough. You can bet on that!”

Garson resisted the lure.

”If you don't want me----” he began suggestively; and he turned toward the door to the outer hall. ”Why, if you don't want me, I'll--get along.”

”Oh, what's the hurry, Joe?” Burke retorted, with the effect of stopping the other short. He pressed the buzzer as the agreed signal to Ca.s.sidy.

”Where did you say Mary Turner was last night?”

At the question, all Garson's fears for the woman rushed back on him with appalling force. Of what avail his safety, if she were still in peril?

”I don't know where she was,” he exclaimed, doubtfully. He realized his blunder even as the words left his lips, and sought to correct it as best he might. ”Why, yes, I do, too,” he went on, as if a.s.sailed by sudden memory. ”I dropped into her place kind of late, and they said she'd gone to bed--headache, I guess.... Yes, she was home, of course.

She didn't go out of the house, all night.” His insistence on the point was of itself suspicious, but eagerness to protect her stultified his wits.

Burke sat grim and silent, offering no comment on the lie.

”Know anything about young Gilder?” he demanded. ”Happen to know where he is now?” He arose and came around the desk, so that he stood close to Garson, at whom he glowered.

”Not a thing!” was the earnest answer. But the speaker's fear rose swiftly, for the linking of these names was significant--frightfully significant!

The inner door opened, and Mary Turner entered the office. Garson with difficulty suppressed the cry of distress that rose to his lips. For a few moments, the silence was unbroken. Then, presently, Burke, by a gesture, directed the girl to advance toward the center of the room.

As she obeyed, he himself went a little toward the door, and, when it opened again, and d.i.c.k Gilder appeared, he interposed to check the young man's rush forward as his gaze fell on his bride, who stood regarding him with sad eyes.

Garson stared mutely at the burly man in uniform who held their destinies in the hollow of a hand. His lips parted as if he were about to speak. Then, he bade defiance to the impulse. He deemed it safer for all that he should say nothing--now!... And it is very easy to say a word too many. And that one may be a word never to be unsaid--or gainsaid.

Then, while still that curious, dynamic silence endured, Ca.s.sidy came briskly into the office. By some magic of duty, he had contrived to give his usually hebetudinous features an expression of enthusiasm.

”Say, Chief,” the detective said rapidly, ”they've squealed!”

Burke regarded his aide with an air intolerably triumphant. His voice came smug:

”Squealed, eh?” His glance ran over Garson for a second, then made its inquisition of Mary and of d.i.c.k Gilder. He did not give a look to Ca.s.sidy as he put his question. ”Do they tell the same story?” And then, when the detective had answered in the affirmative, he went on speaking in tones ponderous with self-complacency; and, now, his eyes held sharply, craftily, on the woman.

”I was right then, after all--right, all the time! Good enough!” Of a sudden, his voice boomed somberly. ”Mary Turner, I want you for the murder of----”

Garson's rush halted the sentence. He had leaped forward. His face was rigid. He broke on the Inspector's words with a gesture of fury. His voice came in a hiss:

”That's a d.a.m.ned lie!... I did it!”

CHAPTER XXIV. ANGUISH AND BLISS.

Joe Garson had shouted his confession without a second of reflection.

But the result must have been the same had he taken years of thought.

Between him and her as the victim of the law, there could be no hesitation for choice. Indeed, just now, he had no heed to his own fate.