Part 20 (2/2)

complained the butler. ”He hurt my wrists and tore my collar. I gave the papers to him without any struggle--really, sir, if I'd met you I should have given them to you.”

Britz thrust the butler back into the cell and closed the door.

”Won't you please let me go?” pleaded the prisoner, clutching frantically at the bar. ”I haven't done anything.”

Unheedful of the man's appeal, the detective ascended the iron stairs and hastened into his private office. He found Manning and Greig seated at his desk scrutinizing the papers.

”Anything of value in them?” asked Britz.

”Not yet,” returned the chief. ”But we haven't finished with them.”

Britz applied himself to the doc.u.ments, his eyes racing through them in futile search of something that might shed a welcome illumination on the dark complexities of the case. But the papers contained nothing of worth to the police. Mostly they related to Whitmore's business affairs, which apparently were in a healthy and flouris.h.i.+ng condition.

With a shrug of disappointment the detective flung the last of the doc.u.ments from him.

”Wasted labor!” he observed to the chief. ”Might as well return them to Beard.”

”Here is one we haven't examined,” said Manning, offering a long, white envelope to Britz. ”I don't know whether we are justified in opening it.”

The back of the envelope had been sealed with wax in three places, and the seals were still undisturbed. Across the front of it was written,--

”Last will and testament of Herbert Whitmore.”

Britz regarded the envelope with covetous eyes.

”There is no law which prevents the police from examining a murdered man's will,” he remarked. ”I suppose the proper thing would be to open it in the presence of the attorney for the deceased. But we are all disinterested witnesses so far as the doc.u.ment is concerned, so we'll proceed to examine it.”

With a penknife Britz slit open the long edge of the envelope and, without waiting for authorization from his chief, spread the doc.u.ment before him. It consisted of three sheets of legal cap, to the last page of which Whitmore's signature and the names of two witnesses were affixed.

”Two pages of minor bequests,” commented Britz as he finished reading the second sheet of the will.

On the final paragraph of the third sheet, the detective's eyes lingered a long while. Half a dozen times he reread the significant clause, then pa.s.sed it to the chief. Manning perused it with widening orbs, finally handing the paper to Greig. The latter absorbed the contents at a glance and returned the paper to Britz.

”So Mrs. Collins inherits the residue--practically the entire Whitmore estate!” exclaimed Manning. ”What does it mean?”

Greig bounded out of his seat as if released by a spring. He stood a moment as if to fling out a loud cry of exultation, but the serious expression on the faces of the others checked his ardor. A shade of doubt flitted across his face, but vanished instantly and was succeeded by a look which seemed to imply a sudden clearness of vision.

”Yes, by George! it's as plain as daylight!” he burst forth. ”She's the one--I suspected her all the time! Now we have it--the motive and the explanation of her silence! Her brother a bankrupt, perhaps a defaulter.

A fugitive, too! Her money sunk, her husband's money lost! She knew she was the chief beneficiary of the will--don't you see what Whitmore's death meant to her? We've deluded ourselves into the belief that it was to her interest to keep Whitmore alive. What chumps we were.”

Britz's glance was alternating between the excited Greig and the impa.s.sive Manning, contrasting the riotous enthusiasm of the one with the quiet deliberation of the other.

”What do you think of it, chief?” he asked.

”I think we ought to put it up to her good and strong,” advised Manning.

”Threaten to lock her up if she doesn't explain.”

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