Part 41 (1/2)
”Ridiculous!”
”I know it seems so to you and me, for we know Aunt Let.i.tia, but these strangers, this Wise and Miss Zizi, here,” bowing in her direction, ”they are already looking----”
”Now, Mr Bates, that's too bad!” cried Zizi, her black eyes s.h.i.+ning with real sympathy, as she saw the young man's distress. ”Please be sure Mr Wise and I never look seriously in any direction unless something definite points us that way. And by elimination not many suspects are left.”
”Who are eliminated?” asked Vail, gravely.
”We have cut out all thought of the chorus girls, and the girls employed in this house,” Zizi began.
”All the house girls?” asked Vail, quickly.
”I'm not sure about that, but I mean the elevator girls, the telephone girls, the news-stand girls and the pages. I don't know anything about the upstairs maids, chambermaids, cleaners, and such. But there's been no suggestion of those.”
”Why should there be?” said Bates, impatiently. ”I know myself, no stupid little servant killed my uncle. It was done by some one with brains, with power, with influence. He was not a man to be killed for some petty reason; he was a man of big interests in a business way, and of wide experience socially. His murderers--or murderesses--must be found, but I don't think we've got on the right track yet.”
”And do you think Crippen is a promising way to look?” asked Vail, scrutinizing Bates' anxious face.
”I don't know. But he was mixed up in the Bun matter; he hadn't finished the deal, as you had, and as one or two other companies had, and it seems to me he ought to be looked up, at least, before we go on.”
”I've looked him up,” and Wise's form came into view around the corner of the hall. He joined the group that still stood by the door of the Binney apartment. ”I've looked into the Crippen connection with the Bun deal, and there's nothing doing. Binney and Crippen were on the outs but not because of Buns. _They_ were settled some time before the murder.
Still, Crippen did want the recipe, and was willing to buy that without the bakery or any paraphernalia of the business.”
”Is that so?” and Vail seemed interested. ”Wouldn't Binney sell that?”
”I'm told not.”
”Who told you?”
”Crippen's people,--down at his office. I talked with a secretary, and I've talked with some of the 'Crippen's Cakes' directors. They want the recipe and nothing else.”
”Queer,” mused Zizi, ”that a recipe should be so valuable! Why can't they buy a bun and a.n.a.lyze it, and so find out how it's made?”
”That's been tried,” Vail informed her. ”But the secret can't be learned that way. There's an unknown ingredient, or the things are put together in some unknown order or way,--but no one has yet been able to imitate successfully the Binney Bun. I'm a bread man, and I know that.”
”Well, if you've struck off Crippen's name, where do we stand?” Richard said, looking gloomily at Wise.
”We stand pat for the women,” the detective declared. ”And _I_ have from the first. I can't doubt or disbelieve a dying statement,--can you, Mr Vail?”
”Surely not. That is, on general principles. But if this pursuit of women leads to----”
”No matter where it leads,” Pennington Wise said, firmly, ”the trail must be followed up. Murder demands a life for a life. The danger is that suspicion may be directed toward the wrong women. But that is our great care, and I can't think it will happen.”
”It must not happen,” said Vail, sharply, and, with a sympathetic glance at Richard Bates, he went away.
”Now, Mr Bates,” said Wise as the others returned to the sitting-room and closed the door, ”I've been pretty busy and I've some good news for you. I think we can say positively there is no danger of suspicion coming to rest on your aunt or her companion, Miss Gurney.”
”Thank G.o.d,” cried Richard fervently.