Part 36 (1/2)

”No you won't!” interposed Collins. ”I'll give my version of it.”

”Officer, I have nothing to hide! I'll tell the circ.u.mstances precisely as they occurred,” Ward repeated.

”No he won't!” protested Collins. ”Let me speak! I'm willing to swear to everything I say.”

It was almost ludicrous to behold the utter demoralization into which Luckstone's clients were thrown. Britz had brought them out of their coverts and forced them into the open--and instantly they started fighting among themselves.

Luckstone made one ineffectual effort to re-unite them in solid rank against the attacking police enemy, then he also surrendered.

”Let Beard talk!” he exclaimed. ”He may be able to save himself from an awful predicament.”

”Sit down, gentlemen!” Britz said, as he motioned them to their seats.

”I'll hear what Mr. Beard has to say.”

CHAPTER XXIV

Beard began to speak, but the tremor of overmastering excitement in his voice, made his words indistinct, incomprehensible. Not until he had proceeded for several minutes did he regain control of his voice, and then he had to repeat what in his agitation he had but half-uttered.

”I met Mr. Whitmore when he left the train at Philadelphia after the subst.i.tution of prisoners had been achieved,” Beard said. ”We proceeded to New York, arriving here about three in the afternoon. I knew that Ward and Mrs. Collins were extremely anxious to see Mr. Whitmore, and he likewise was aware of it. So I telephoned Mrs. Collins and her brother to come to my home.

”As a precautionary measure, Mr. Whitmore had decided to stay at my house until the mustache which he had shaved off was restored to his lip. He thought it best not to appear in the streets as there was grave danger of meeting one of the officials with whom he had come in contact after his arrest.

”Evidently Collins was at home when Mrs. Collins received my message asking her to come to my house. She and Ward arrived there about five o'clock. It was already dark and I switched on the electric lights.

”They met Mr. Whitmore in the library. The greetings were most cordial.

Then Ward began to recite his business troubles. He had proceeded only a few minutes when the door-bell rang. I responded and Collins forced his way into the house. Hearing voices in the library upstairs, he darted up the steps and burst in on Mr. Whitmore. Collins had been drinking--just enough to make him ugly. As I entered the room I heard him up-braiding Mr. Whitmore and with each word he grew more excited. Finally he called Mr. Whitmore a vile name. Then Mr. Whitmore opened up on Collins.

”'You cur!' Mr. Whitmore shouted. 'You've been unfaithful to your wife--you betrayed the other woman! You lied to both of them! You made the other woman believe you intended to marry her, and made her your mistress! She's been your mistress over three years now, pleading and imploring that you keep your promise. You've wrecked two lives and now you have the hardihood to come here and accuse your wife--why, you're so low and vile and worthless--'

”'Cut that out!' Collins broke in. 'I want an explanation of this letter!'

”Collins waved the letter which he had intercepted, but Mr. Whitmore tried to dismiss him with a shrug of disgust. Finally Collins repeated the vile epithet which he had called my employer. Then he hurled another epithet at his wife. That enraged Mr. Whitmore and he leaped for Collins. Collins jumped back and whipped out a pistol. At the same instant Ward hurled himself at Collins. In order to prevent a tragedy I switched out the light. There was a short scuffle in the darkness, then a shot rang out. I heard Mr. Whitmore groan.

”Instantly I switched on the light. Mr. Whitmore was leaning against a table, one hand pressed against his abdomen. Collins was cowering against the opposite wall.

”The pistol was in Ward's hand.”

Beard paused, overcome by the crus.h.i.+ng pain of the memories that crowded on his brain. The fact that all but one of the partic.i.p.ants in the tragedy were present now, made the anguish all the more acute.

”I helped Mr. Whitmore into a chair,” Beard proceeded in a sobbing voice. ”And I heard him say, 'Well, I guess I'm done for!'

”Mrs. Collins then came over and threw her arms about his neck, kissing him and imploring him not to die. Ward joined the group, and with tears running down his cheeks, said:

”'I fired the shot. But I meant to kill that dog'--pointing to Collins.

'I meant to avenge the insult to my sister. I hope the wound won't prove serious.'

”There is no doubt that Ward had wrenched the pistol out of Collins's hand and meant to kill him. But Mr. Whitmore also had tried to get the weapon. And in the darkness there was a mix-up in which Collins managed to slip away after he lost the weapon. When Ward fired, the bullet struck Whitmore. That is the truth of the matter,” Beard added imploringly.

Mrs. Collins had buried her face in her handkerchief. She was sobbing convulsively. Miss Burden also was crying, but silently. The coroner and the police officials had hung breathlessly on each word uttered by Beard. Everything he said had carried conviction. His manner was straightforward and he had the bearing of a man deeply moved but striving furiously to retain his self-control.