Part 57 (1/2)

”Mr. O'Meara,” she begins, in her most straightforward manner, ”I have just come from Mapleton, where I have been with Sybil since last night.

This morning, Doctor Benoit horrified me by telling me that Doctor Heath has been arrested for the murder of John Burrill.”

Just here the study door opens softly, and a portly, pleasant faced gentleman enters. He bows with easy self-possession, and turns expectantly toward O'Meara. That gentleman performed the ceremony of introduction.

”Miss Wardour, permit me: Mr. a--Wedron, of the New York Bar. Mr.

Wedron, my dear, is here in the interest of Doctor Heath.”

A pair of searching gray eyes are turned full upon the stranger, who bears the scrutiny with infinite composure. She bows gravely, and then seats herself opposite the two gentleman.

”Mr. O'Meara,” she says, imperiously, ”I want to hear the full particulars of this affair, from the very first, up to the present moment.”

The two professional men exchange glances. Then Mr. Wedron interposes: ”Miss Wardour,” he says, slowly, ”we are acting for Clifford Heath, in this matter, therefore, I must ask, do you come as a friend of the accused, or--to offer testimony?”

Again the gray eyes flash upon him. ”I come as a friend of Doctor Heath,” she says, haughtily; ”and I ask only what is known to all W----, I suppose.”

Mr. Wedron conceals a smile of satisfaction behind a smooth white hand; then he draws a bundle of papers from his pocket.

”O'Meara,” he says, pa.s.sing them to his colleague; ”here are the items of the case, as we summed them up last evening; please read them to Miss Wardour.” And he favors the little lawyer, with a swift, but significant glance.

Drawing his chair a little nearer that of his visitor, O'Meara begins, while the portly gentleman sits in the background and notes, lynx-like, every expression that flits across the face of the listening girl.

O'Meara reads on and on. The summing up is very comprehensive. From the first discovery of the body, to the last item of testimony before the coroner's jury; and after that, the strangeness, the apathy, the obstinacy of the accused, and his utter refusal to add his testimony, or to accuse any other. Utter silence falls upon them as the reading ceases.

Constance sits mute and pale as a statue; Mr. Wedron seems quite self-absorbed, and Mr. O'Meara, glances around nervously, as if waiting for a cue.

Constance turns her head slowly, and looks from one to the other.

”Mr. O'Meara, Mr. Wedron, you are to defend Doctor Heath, you tell me?”

They both nod a.s.sent.

”And--have you, as his counsel, gathered no palliating proof? Nothing to set against this ma.s.s of blighting circ.u.mstantial evidence?”

Mr. Wedron leans forward, fastens his eyes upon her face, and says gravely: ”Miss Wardour, all that can be done for Clifford Heath will be done. But--the case as it stands is against him. For some reason he has lost courage. He seems to place small value upon his life I believe that he knows who is the guilty one, and that he is sacrificing himself.

Furthermore, I believe that there are those who can tell, if they will, far more than has been told concerning this case; those who may withhold just the evidence that in a lawyer's hands will clear Clifford Heath.”

The pallid misery of her face is pitiful, but it does not move Mr.

Wedron.

”Last night,” he goes on mercilessly, ”Mr. Raymond Vandyck sat where you sit now, and I said to him what I now say to you. Miss Wardour, Raymond Vandyck knows more than he has told.” His keen eyes search her face, her own orbs fall before his gaze. Then she lifts them suddenly, and asks abruptly:

”Who are the other parties who are withholding their testimony?”

Again Mr. Wedron suppresses a smile. ”Another who knows more than he chooses to tell is Mr. Frank Lamotte.”

She starts perceptibly.

”And--are there others?”

”Another, Miss Wardour, is--yourself.”