Part 24 (1/2)

”Of course they are,--I'll do that,” agreed the older man. ”Blair has a sister, somewhere out West. If anything comes of the drawings, it will be hers.”

”Can you get in touch with his family?” asked Middleton.

”Don't know anything about them,” Crane returned. ”I suppose there must be letters or an address book or some such matters in Blair's desk.

Thorpe may know more about it than I do.”

”Thorpe may know a lot of things,” suggested Weston. ”Better get him up here, I say.”

”All right,” Benjamin Crane said, after a moment's pause. ”He's down at my house,--I'll telephone him to come up here now.”

But when connection was made it transpired that Thorpe had left the Crane house and n.o.body knew where he was.

”Looks bad,” said Weston, shortly. ”Why'd he run away?”

”See here, Mr. Weston,” Crane said, ”if you've any suspicion against McClellan Thorpe just put it out of your mind. He had no hand in Mr.

Blair's death----”

”I didn't say he had.”

”I know you didn't, but you implied it, and I want to quash any such suggestion at once.”

”It's absurd,” Shelby agreed. ”You don't know the friends.h.i.+p that existed between the two men. Why, they were fellow architects and have lived here together for over two years. They were like brothers.”

”That's all right, but why did Thorpe run away?”

”He hasn't run away!” Crane said, ”what a ridiculous charge! Merely because he left my house, you say he's run away! He's probably on his way up here. This is his home.”

”Well, until he gets here, I'll look around his room a bit,” Weston remarked, and as he went into Thorpe's bedroom, Crane followed.

There was nothing sinister there. Merely the usual appointments, and rather plain ones, for the young architects were not of luxurious tastes or means.

With a practiced eye and deft hand, Weston went through dresser drawers, and cupboard shelves. Looked into the books on the night table, and in a short time had satisfied himself that there was no evidence apparent, so far.

Into the bathroom next, they all went. This the two men shared, and the detective scrutinized the gla.s.ses and brushes that were on shelves, either side of the wash stand. They were of tidy appearance and presented merely the array that might be expected.

Weston sniffed hard at the gla.s.ses, but could detect no untoward odors, nor any sign of poison or drugs of any sort.

The small white cupboard on the wall showed only a few bottles containing toilet appurtenances and simple medicines.

”Witch Hazel, Peroxide, Talc.u.m powder, Cholera mixture and soda mints,”

he said, from the various labels,--”h.e.l.lo, here's laudanum! How about that?”

”No,” Doctor Middleton declared, ”it wasn't laudanum poisoning. It was prussic acid. The effects are quite different, and there's no mistaking them. I don't know what the young men were doing with laudanum, but it wasn't that that killed Mr. Blair.”

”Curious, to have poison around at all,” said Shelby, musingly.

”Gives a hint of intended suicide,” suggested Weston. ”Though not necessarily----”

”I should say not!” broke in Benjamin Crane. ”Gilbert Blair wasn't coward enough to take his own life for any reason. Why, he was my son's friend. It was an accident,--and the fact of finding that other poison about, points toward accident, to my mind.”