Part 14 (1/2)
”Ah! You are engaged to be married to James Darcy, who is--er--detained as a--er--as a _witness_ in the murder of his cousin?”
”I am,” and she seemed to glory in it. ”As soon as I heard what had happened--to him--I wanted to help. They would not let me see Jimmie at police headquarters, but I sent word that dad and I were going to work for him every minute.”
”That must have cheered him.”
”I hope it did. But I want to do more than that. I want to help him!
I want to get the best detective in the country to work on the case and prove that Jimmie didn't do this--this terrible thing of which he is accused.”
”He isn't exactly accused yet, as I understand it, Miss Mason.”
”Oh, well, it's just as bad. He is suspected. Why, Jimmie wouldn't have caused Mrs. Darcy a moment of pain, to say nothing of striking her--killing her! Oh, it's horrible--horrible!” and she covered her face with her hands.
”I don't quite understand,” began the colonel, ”why you came to me, or how--”
”I told her it was the only thing to do,” broke in the newsboy. ”Soon as I read about Carroll and Thong being on the case I knew it would take a fly one to put anything over on them. I tried on the train to sell you a detective book, not knowing who you was. You treated me white, and when I heard Miss Mason was in trouble--or her friend was--I said to myself right away that you was the one to fix things. I went out to her farm last night and she was all broke up.”
”It was a terrible shock to me when I heard Jimmie was under arrest,”
said the girl. ”I didn't know what to do. Tom, here, proposed coming to see you, and when dad heard who you were, though we knew nothing of you, he said the same thing. He told me I could have all the money I wanted, and I have some of my own if his isn't enough.”
”It isn't always a question of money,” began the colonel, gently.
”I know!” broke in Amy. ”But if I add the inducement of all the trout fis.h.i.+ng--”
”You are strongly tempting me, my dear young lady. But finish your story.”
”Well, there isn't much more to tell. Tom suggested that I come to see you and ask you to take Mr. Darcy's case--to prove that he had no hand in the murder--for I'm sure he did not.
”Tom stayed at our house at Pompey all night. I wanted to come to your hotel at once, but the storm got too bad, so I waited until this morning, and then we motored in. We found you had gone fis.h.i.+ng, and we followed you here. It was, perhaps, not just the thing to do. But I was so anxious! I want to tell Jimmie that something is being done for him. You will help us, won't you?” and again she held out her hands appealingly.
”I don't know anything about police or detectives,” she went on, ”but I'm sure there must be some way of proving that my--that Jimmie had no hand in this. Some terrible thief--a burglar--must have killed Mrs.
Darcy. Oh, Colonel Brentnall, you will help us--won't you?”
She stood there, a beautiful and pathetic picture. The wind sighed through the trees and the murmur of the rippling water filled the air.
”Please!” she whispered. Her hands seemed to waver. Her body swayed.
”s.h.a.g, you black rascal!” cried the colonel. ”The lady's going to faint! Catch her!”
”Yes, sah, Colonel!”
”No! Stand back! I'll attend to her myself! I've given up detective work, but--”
And a moment later Amy Mason sank limply into the colonel's arms.
CHAPTER VI
GRAFTON'S SEARCH