Part 11 (2/2)
”It is appalling,” conceded Aunt Lucy, at length, ”but the most regrettable circ.u.mstance, to my mind, is your connection with it all, Chester.”
”Now, Auntie, have a little heart for poor Mrs. Schuyler, and those old lady sisters. Also for the man himself--”
”Oh, I have, Chet. I'm not inhuman. But those things are in the papers every day, and while one feels a general sympathy, it can't be personal if one doesn't know the people. But, for you to be mixed up in such matters--”
”I wasn't mixed up in it, Aunt Lucy, except as I chose to mix myself.
And I've no doubt I should have gotten into it anyway. Mr. Bradbury will have a lot to do with it, I'm sure. I'm no better than he to mix in.”
”In a business way, yes. But you were there socially--where a murder was committed--”
Aunt Lucy could have shown no more horror of it all, if I had been the convicted criminal.
”And, I'm glad I was!” I cried, losing patience a little. ”If I can be of any help to the Schuyler people or to Miss Van Allen, I shall be willing to do all I can.
”But Miss Van Allen is the--the murderer!” and Aunt Lucy whispered the word.
”Don't say that!” I cried sharply. ”You don't know it at all, and there's no reason to condemn the girl--”
I paused. Bemis was taking in my every word with a canny understanding of what I said, and also of what I didn't say.
”Where do your suspicions tend, Mr. Calhoun?” he said smoothly.
”Frankly, Mr. Bemis, I don't know. I am an acquaintance of Miss Van Allen and I cannot reconcile the idea of crime with her happy, gentle nature. Nor can I see any reason to suspect the waiter who first told of the matter. But might not some person, some enemy of Mr. Schuyler, have been secreted in the house--”
”A plausible theory,” agreed Bemis, ”even an obvious one, but almost no chance of it. I've seen the caterer's people, and they were in charge of the bas.e.m.e.nt rooms and the dining-room all the evening.
Unless it were one of the guests at the party, I think no intruder could have gotten in.”
”Well,” I returned, uneasily, for I wished he would go, ”it isn't up to us to invent theories or to defend them. I will answer your necessary questions, but pardon me, if I remind you that I am a busy man and I haven't yet had my breakfast.”
Bemis took the hint, and after a string of definite and pertinent questions, he left.
Winnie tried to detain him, but my curt courtesy made it difficult for him to linger.
”Oh, Chessy,” cried my sister, as soon as Bemis had gone, ”it's awful, I know, but _isn't_ it exciting?”
”Hush, Winnie,” reproved Aunt Lucy. ”A girl of your age should know nothing of these things, and I want you to put it out of your mind.
You can be of no help, and I do not want your nerves disturbed by the harrowing details.”
”That's all right, Aunt Lucy,” I put in, ”but this is going to be a celebrated case, and Winnie can't be kept in ignorance of its developments. Now be a good sort, Auntie--accept the inevitable. Try to realize that I must do what seems to me my duty, and if that brings us more or less into the limelight of publicity, it is a pity, but it can't be helped.”
”I agree to all that, Chester, dear. But you are so mixed in it socially. Why did you ever get into that set?”
”It isn't a bad set, Aunt Lu. It isn't a fast set, by any means.”
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