Part 23 (1/2)
Moore said he was in a quandary. Full of detective interest, he longed to work on the case, and felt sure he could be of use to the police, but the att.i.tude of Julie deterred him.
”You see, she's my girl,” he said frankly to Corson. ”And she does act queer! I don't understand her, but I can't dig into this thing and maybe run up against something she doesn't want me to!”
”You have faith in her own innocence, then?”
”Oh, yes,--that is, she wouldn't kill a man! And yet,--who can say that?
In a fit of anger a woman would do anything,--more especially, if she wasn't alone.”
”What do you mean by that?”
”I mean a woman, working alone, would hardly dare to kill a man,--but, accompanied, maybe egged on by another woman, she'd be daredevil enough to----”
”Who would? Julie Baxter?” Corson flung the question at him.
”Yes,” Moore declared, ”Julie or any woman of her fierce, intense nature. I know Julie well, and I love her, and I'm going to see her through,--but it's quite in the picture that she knows something about this thing.”
”You're pretty frank for a man engaged to----”
”That's just it! I'm going to save her from herself! Julie is stubborn,--she's positively pig-headed, if she takes a notion. Now, if she's keeping something back,--and she is,--it's to s.h.i.+eld some friend, or,--or to s.h.i.+eld herself; but not from conviction of crime,--rather from some circ.u.mstances that might falsely incriminate her--or some one else.”
”But if she knows who did this thing----”
”Oh, she doesn't. At most, she only suspects. But I'll find out. She's my girl, and I'm going to discover the truth about her,--and then about the murder.”
”Oho, you're going to be a detective!”
”Not so's you'd notice it. But I'm going to do a little sleuthing on the side and if I find out anything that will help justice along, I promise to tell you,--let the chips fall where they may.”
”I haven't any too much faith in Moore's protestations,” Corson confided to Gibbs. ”He's crazy to be a detective, but he's afraid he'll catch his own girl in his net. That's the truth in a nutsh.e.l.l. I do think, though, he'd be good help to us, for he knows all about this house and its occupants, and I can't help thinking the murderers belong here.”
”I don't think so,” returned Gibbs. ”I'm sure they are rank outsiders.
They were with him during those missing two hours and they followed him home, hoping to get what they were after,--black-mail, most likely, and then at the last minute opportunity presented itself and they killed him.”
”Must have been prepared for it, as they had a weapon, used it deftly, and carried it off.”
”They did that, and there's an important clew. None of those little chorus babes could have stabbed with that deft touch, which the doctor vows shows skilled medical or surgical knowledge.”
”Maybe, and maybe it was a chance blow. Well, I'm going off on a new tack. I'm going up to see the dead man's people and get, if I can, some new angle on the case.”
Corson went up to the Prall apartment and found the members of that household in a high state of excitement.
Miss Let.i.tia Prall paused in what was evidently an angry harangue and somewhat grudgingly accorded a greeting to the caller.
”Must you have an interview just now, Mr Corson?” she asked, acidly.
”I'm sure you know all we can tell you.”
”I'm not sure of that, Miss Prall. There are, I think, some points yet to be cleared up.”