Part 6 (1/2)
”Had you been having any trouble?”
”No--that is, nothing to amount to anything.”
”But you had a quarrel or a misunderstanding.”
His face flushed slowly. ”She was to obtain her final decree early next week. I wanted her to marry me then at once. She refused. When I reproached her for not considering my wishes she pretended to be cool and began an elaborate flirtation with Merle s.h.i.+rley.”
”You say she only pretended to be cool?”
For a few moments Gordon hesitated. Then apparently his vanity loosened his tongue. He wished it to be understood that he had held the love of Stella to the last.
”Last night,” he volunteered, ”we made everything up and she was as affectionate as she ever had been. This morning she was cool, but I could tell it was pretense and so I let her alone.”
”There has been no real trouble between you?”
The leading man met Kennedy's gaze squarely. ”Not a bit!”
Kennedy turned to Mackay. ”Mr. s.h.i.+rley,” he ordered.
By a miscalculation on the part of the little district attorney the heavy man entered the room a moment before Gordon left. They came face to face just within the portieres. There was no mistaking the hostility, the open hate, between the two men. Both Kennedy and I caught the glances.
Then Merle s.h.i.+rley approached the fireplace, taking the chair indicated by Kennedy.
”I wasn't in any of the opening scenes,” he explained. ”I remained out in the car until I got wind of the excitement. By that time Stella was dead.”
”Do you know anything of a quarrel between Miss Lamar and Gordon?”
s.h.i.+rley rose, clenching his fists. For several moments he stood gazing down at the star with an expression on his face which I could not a.n.a.lyze. The pause gave me an opportunity to study him, however, and I noticed that while he had heavier features than Gordon, and was a larger man in every way, ideally endowed for heavy parts, there was yet a certain boyish freshness clinging to him in subtle fas.h.i.+on. He wore his clothes in a loose sort of way which suggested the West and the open, in contrast to Gordon's metropolitan sophistication and immaculate tailoring. He was every inch the man, and a splendid actor--I knew. Yet there was the touch of youth about him. He seemed incapable of a crime such as this, unless it was in anger, or as the result of some deep-running hidden pa.s.sion.
Now, whether he was angry or in the clutch of a broad disgust, I could not tell. Perhaps it was both. Very suddenly he wheeled upon Kennedy.
His voice became low and vibrant with feeling. Here was none of the steeled self-control of Manton, the deceptive outer mask which Werner used to cover his thoughts, the nonchalant, cold frankness of Gordon.
”Mr. Kennedy,” the actor exclaimed, ”I've been a fool, a fool!”
”How do you mean?”
”I mean that I allowed Stella to flatter my vanity and lead me into a flirtation which meant nothing at all to her. G.o.d!”
”You are responsible for the trouble between Miss Lamar and Gordon, then?”
”Never!” s.h.i.+rley indicated the body of the star with a quick, pa.s.sionate sweep of his hand. Now I could not tell whether he was acting or in earnest. ”She's responsible!” he exclaimed. ”She's responsible for everything!”
”Her death--”
”No!” s.h.i.+rley sobered suddenly, as if he had forgotten the mystery altogether. ”I don't know anything at all about that, nor have I any idea unless--” But he checked himself rather than voice an empty suspicion.
”Just what do you mean, then?” Kennedy was sharp, impatient.
”She made a fool of me, and--and I was engaged to Marilyn Loring--”