Part 13 (2/2)

”It isn't that I don't trust you,” said Britz, withdrawing the missive, ”but under the circ.u.mstances I prefer to retain possession of it.”

It required no formal acknowledgment from her to a.s.sure him that he held the right note. Her face, her eyes, her very aspect proclaimed her anxiety concerning it. Retreating to a position directly beneath the cl.u.s.ter of electric lights, Britz read the letter. It was dated the previous day and was as follows:

”_Dear Whitmore_: Mr. Beard has informed me that I may communicate with you through him. For nearly six weeks I have waited anxiously for your return, but I am in such sore straits that I can no longer delay communicating with you.

”I require for use in my business the sum of one million, two hundred thousand dollars. Unless I am able to obtain the money at once, I am ruined. Were I the only one to suffer by the crash I should not mind. But it means the loss of my sister's fortune, as well as that of her husband. Grace, too, could bear the loss. But the thought of plunging Collins into poverty, under the present circ.u.mstances, is what impels me to appeal to you.

”To avert this catastrophe my sister joins in the appeal I am making. I hope, in the course of the next six months, to be able to repay the loan. But it is absolutely necessary to obtain the money at once, for my creditors are threatening immediate bankruptcy proceedings. And that means the end.

”Sincerely, LESTER WARD.”

”So your brother is in a bad way financially?” said Britz, more in the way of an audible comment than as a question.

Evidently the subject was too painful for discussion, for she averted her face as if to hide the emotions written thereon.

”Your brother expected Mr. Whitmore to rescue him?” persisted Britz.

”Yes,” she acknowledged.

”And Mr. Whitmore's death leaves him in a sad predicament?”

”Ruin is inevitable,” she admitted.

”Which makes it clear that it was to Mr. Ward's interest as well as your own to find Mr. Whitmore alive?”

”Precisely,” replied she. ”His death was a terrible blow to us.”

Britz saw the situation clearly. Ward, rendered desperate by the impending ruin, had hoped that Whitmore would come to his rescue. But the latter's death had destroyed all hope of aid from that direction.

The letter, far from furnis.h.i.+ng incriminating evidence against anyone, clearly established Ward's and Mrs. Collins's interest in keeping Whitmore alive. Nevertheless Britz decided to retain the note on the bare chance that subsequent developments might give it a changed aspect.

Mrs. Collins, divining with the sure instinct of a woman, the obvious conclusion which the detective had drawn from the letter, ventured another attempt to gain possession of it.

”Now that you are convinced that it has no bearing on Mr. Whitmore's death, may I have it?” she asked.

”Why are you so anxious to obtain it?” retorted Britz.

”Because its possession by someone would be an endless source of embarra.s.sment to me,” answered she.

She spoke as one engaged in a controversy of minor significance. But it was plain that exhaustion was swiftly overtaking her, that her bruised senses were near the end of their endurance.

”You need fear no uneasiness from the letter while it is in my possession,” the detective said rea.s.suringly.

She accepted the statement as a final refusal to surrender the missive, and, consulting the small watch set in her black leather purse, noted with a frightened gasp that it was two o'clock.

”Where is Mr. Beard?” she asked, as if suddenly recalling his absence.

”He is under arrest,” answered Britz in even voice.

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