Part 41 (1/2)

”Why, Alvord,” said Aunt Abby, ”you had it fearfully about a month ago.

Don't you recollect? You were afraid of mastoiditis.”

”Oh, that. Well, that was a serious illness. I was thinking of an ordinary earache, when I said I never had one. But I beg of you drop the subject of my ailments! What a thing to discuss!”

”True enough,” agreed Stone, ”I propose we keep to the theme under consideration. I've been engaged to look into this murder mystery.

I'm here for that purpose. I must insist that I conduct my investigation in my own way.”

”That's the right talk,” approved Elliott. ”Now, Mr. Stone, let's get right down to it.”

”Very well, the case stands thus: Shane says--and it's perfectly true--there are five possible suspects. But only one of these had both motive and opportunity. Now, the whole five are here present, and, absurd though it my seem, I'm going to ask each one of you the definite question. Ferdinand,” he raised his voice and the butler came in from the dining-room, ”did you kill your master?”

”No, G.o.d hearing me--I didn't, sir.” The man was quiet and composed, though his face was agonized.

”That will do, you may go,” said Stone. ”Mr. Elliott, did you kill your friend--your partner in business?”

”I did not,” said Elliott, curtly. He was evidently ill-pleased at the question.

”Mr. Hendricks, did you?”

”As I have repeatedly proved, I was in Boston that night. It would be impossible for me to be the criminal--but I will answer your ridiculous query--I did not.”

”Mrs. Embury, did you?”

”N--no--but I would rather be suspected, than to have--”

”You said no, I believe,” Stone interrupted her. ”Miss Ames, do you really think you killed your niece's husband?”

”Oh, sir--I don't know! I can't think I did--”

”Of course, you didn't, Aunt Abby!” Mason Elliott rose from his seat and paced up and down the room. ”I must say, Mr. Stone, this is a childish performance! What makes you think any of us would say so, if we had killed Embury? It is utterly absurd!”

”You're absurd, Elliott,” cut in Hendricks. ”Mr. Stone is a psychologist. He learns what he wants to know not from what we say--but the way we say it. Right, Mr. Stone?”

”Right, Mr. Hendricks.” Stone looked grave. ”Anything more to say, Mr.

Elliott?”

”Yes, I have! And it's this: I asked you to come here. I asked you to take this case--as you've already surmised--to free Mrs. Embury from wrongful suspicion. Wrongful, mind you! I do not want you to clear her if she is guilty. But she isn't. Therefore, I want you to find the real criminal. That's what I want!”

”And that's what I'm doing.”

”Of course he is,” Eunice defended him. ”I wish you'd keep still, Mason! You talk too much--and you interfere with Mr. Stone's methods.”

”Perhaps I'd better go home, Eunice.” Elliott was clearly offended.

”If you don't want me here, I'll go.”

”Oh, no--” Eunice began, but Hendricks said, ”Go on, Elliott, do. There are too many of us here, and as Eunice's counsel, I can look after her interests.”