Part 11 (1/2)
”And you didn't see your cousin again until--when?” and Carroll looked Darcy straight in the eyes.
”Not until after she was--dead.”
”Um! I guess that's all now.”
They let the young man go, back to his room in police headquarters. It was not a cell--yet, though it would seem likely to come to that, for Thong observed to his partner as they went downstairs:
”Well, there's a motive all right.”
”Three, if you like. But none of 'em hardly strong enough for murder.”
”Oh, I don't know. I hear he has quite a temper--different from Harry King's, but enough, especially if he got riled about the old lady talking against his girl. You never can tell.”
”No, that's so.”
Left alone, James Darcy threw himself into a chair and looked blankly at the dull-painted wall.
”This is fierce!” he murmured. ”It will be a terrible blow to Amy! I wonder--I wonder if she'll have anything to do with me after this? The shame of it--the disgrace! Oh, Amy! if I could only know!” and he reached out his hand as though to thrust them beyond the confines of the walls. He bowed his head in his arms and was silent and motionless a long time.
Up in his hotel room, Colonel Ashley read the story of the case as printed in the _Times_.
”This does begin to get interesting,” he mused, as he finished reading the account. ”There are three possible motives in Darcy's case, and one in King's. And I've known murder to be done on slighter provocation. Darcy might have resented being called a fortune hunter, which, I suppose, is what the old lady meant, or he may have been stung to sudden pa.s.sion by the holding back of the thousand dollars and the taunts about his lathe. Most inventors are crazy anyhow.
”As for King--if he was drunk enough, and wanted money--or thought he could get some diamonds--it might be--it might be. I wonder who his lady friend is? He daren't tell, I suppose, on account of his wife. I wonder--”
”Oh, what am I bothering about it for, anyhow? I came here to rest and fish, and I'm going to. I've resigned from detective work! There!”
He tossed the paper behind the bed. ”I'll not look at another issue.
Now let's see how my rods are. I'm going to get an early start in the morning, if this infernal rain lets up. Blast that s.h.a.g! He's jammed a ferrule!” and, with blazing eyes, the colonel looked at one of the joints of his choicest rod. A bra.s.s connection had been bent.
”That's a shame! It'll never work that way--never! I've got to go out and see if I can't get it mended. Wonder if there's a decent sporting goods store in this part of town. I'll go out and have a look.”
He made himself ready, taking the two parts of the fis.h.i.+ng rod with him. Inquiry at the hotel desk supplied him with the information as to the location of the store, and the detective was soon out in the wet streets, breathing in deep of the damp air--for it was fresh and that was what the colonel liked.
Somehow or other the address of the jewelry store clung to his mind, and, almost unconsciously, he found himself heading in that direction.
”Well, I am a fool!” he murmured, as he pa.s.sed the place, now ghostly with its one light in front of the safe. The police had taken charge, pending the arrival of a relative of Mrs. Darcy's. Inside, the cut gla.s.s and silver gleamed as of old, but on the floor, sunk deep in the grain of the wood now, was the spot of blood--fit to keep company with the red rubies in the locked safe.
”Quite a place,” murmured the colonel, as he pa.s.sed on toward the sporting goods store. ”Quite a place! Oh, hang it! I must get it out of my mind!”
In spite of his rather exacting demands regarding a ferrule for his rod, he found what he wanted and, feeling quite satisfied now, as he noted that the weather showed some slight signs of clearing, the colonel started back for his hotel, walking slowly, for it was not yet late.
Just how it happened, not even Colonel Ashley, naturally the most interested person, could tell afterward. But as the detective was crossing a crowded street a big auto truck swung around a corner, and he found himself directly in its path as he stepped off the curb.
Active as he always kept himself, the old detective sprang back out of the way. But fate, in the person of a small boy, had just a little while before, dropped a banana skin on the streets. And the colonel stepped squarely on this peeling, as he tried to retreat.
There was a sudden sliding, an endeavor to retain his footing, and then Colonel Ashley fell prostrate, his fis.h.i.+ng rod pieces spinning from his fingers. Down he went, and the truck thundered straight at him.
It was almost upon him, and the big, solid, front tires were about to crush him, in spite of the frantic efforts of the driver to swerve his machine to one side, when a slim figure dashed from the crowd on the sidewalk, and, with an indistinguishable cry, seized the colonel by the shoulders, fairly dragging him with a desperate burst of strength from the very path of death.