Part 27 (1/2)
”Perhaps so,--by elimination----”
”Nonsense!” Julie cried; ”you can't trace it, and you know it! You're just making believe,--you're what do you call it? framing a case! you're railroading McClellan Thorpe to prison! I won't have it! Father, surely you can do something! You _must_!”
Stifling her sobs, Julie ran out of the room.
There was an uncomfortable silence and then Benjamin Crane said:
”You see what a hard position I'm in, Weston.”
”Yes, sir.”
”But of course,” Crane sighed deeply, ”justice must be done,--only I beg of you, Weston, use every effort to find another suspect,--a logical one,--now, don't misunderstand me! I mean, if there can possibly be a doubt of Thorpe's guilt, and a chance of another man's guilt,--for Heaven's sake find that other man!”
”Not a chance.”
”But, at least, keep an open mind. And spare no expense. Get a special detective,--a big one,--there now, don't bristle! I don't suppose you think yourself the cleverest in the world, do you? Don't you admit any superior? If so, get him; if not, then prove your own worth. I repeat, I want no undue favor shown to McClellan Thorpe, but if he is not the guilty man, then I want you to move heaven and earth to find the real criminal. Can't you conceive, Weston, of a murderer so clever as to have committed the crime, planted the vial as evidence against Thorpe and made his escape leaving no clew?”
”I can conceive of such a thing, sir, as I can conceive of a ghost,--but there is no evidence for either conception.”
”Evidence enough for ghosts, Weston! Haven't you read my book?”
”Oh, I clean forgot that book you wrote, Mr. Crane. No, I haven't read it, but my folks have, and I dare say you do believe in spooks. But, come, now, you don't believe a spook killed Mr. Blair, do you, sir?”
”No,--and yet, it is within the bounds of possibility----”
”Not as the police count possibility! There's small chance of any human agency other than Mr. Thorpe, but far less chance of a supernatural agent! I'll be getting along, Mr. Crane, if you're going off on that track.”
”Hold on, Weston, I'm in earnest about this special detective. Suppose I engage a private one. Can you and he work in harmony?”
”Oh, yes, I'm not pig-headed. So long as he don't interfere too much, or get me into any sc.r.a.pes with his highfalutin tricks,--which they all have, go ahead and get him. I'll do my own duty, as I see it and as it's dictated to me by Headquarters; but if you want to engage a dozen private detectives, there's no law against it. And, sir, I'm free to confess I feel mighty sorry for that pretty daughter of yours, and if anybody else can save her man for her, when I can't--why, let him at it!”
”Good for you, Weston, I hoped you'd be above petty jealousy. Go on, now, and see if you can't connect up that empty vial with somebody whose name isn't Thorpe,--and, I say, you're not going to arrest him yet, are you?”
”Not just yet,--but,--well, I'll let you know--soon, where we stand.”
His visitor gone, Benjamin Crane put on his hat and went at once to see Madame Parlato. He had acquired the habit of an interview with her when anything bothered him, and his faith in her powers was unshaken.
His request for a _seance_ was granted, for since the book of Benjamin Crane's had made such a success, the medium was besieged with patrons, yet she always gave Crane the preference over other sitters.
Admitted to the private sanctum, Crane told the Madame he wished to learn anything possible concerning the death of Gilbert Blair.
The medium went into a trance as usual, and after a short interval, announced in her low monotone that the spirit of Peter Crane was present.
”My boy,” said Crane, eagerly, ”do you know who killed Blair?”
”Yes, father,” came the reply, through the voice of Madame Parlato; ”do not seek further than you already know.”
”You mean it was----”
Benjamin Crane hesitated. He was a cautious man, and often as he had had this sort of interviews with Peter's spirit, he was always particular to give no information unnecessarily.