The Mark of Cain Read online

  CHAPTER XI DUANE THE DETECTIVE

  Having learned from Avice of Stryker's relatives, Groot sought the butlerat the home of his daughter.

  "No," said Mrs. Adler, a scared-looking young woman, "I don't know wherefather is. I haven't seen him for a day or two. But he can't be lost."

  "He's in hiding, madam," said Groot, "and he must be found. Are you surehe's not here?"

  "Of course, I'm sure. What do you want of him, anyway? My husband is veryill, and I wish you wouldn't bother me about it. I don't believe anythinghas happened to my father, but if there has, I don't know anything of it.You'll have to excuse me now, I'm very busy." She didn't exactly shut thedoor in his face, but she came near it, and Groot went away uncertain asto whether she was telling the truth or not.

  "I wish I'd searched the house," he thought. "If Stryker doesn't turn upsoon, I will."

  Stryker didn't turn up soon, and Groot and his men did search the houseof Mrs. Adler and her sick husband, but with no result.

  The daughter was apathetic. "Poor father," she said, "I wonder where heis. But I'm so worried about Mr. Adler, I can think of nothing else."

  There was cause, indeed, for the wife's anxiety, for Adler was in thelate stages of galloping consumption. And the harassed woman, none toowell fixed with this world's goods, was alone, caring for him. Groot'shumanity was touched and he forbore to trouble her further.

  "Stryker's decamped, that's all," Groot said; "and flight is confession.It's clear enough. He wanted this insurance of his for his daughter, theagent told me the policy is payable to her, and he had to take it outbefore his age limit was reached. He knew of the legacy coming to him,and in order to get his insurance, he hastened the realization of hisfortune."

  It did look that way, for Avice and Mrs. Black agreed that Stryker wasdevoted to his daughter, and they knew of her husband's desperateillness. Knew too, that she would be left penniless, and was herselfdelicate and unfit for hard work. Stryker could support her while helived, but to leave her an income from his life insurance was his greatdesire. Judge Hoyt, too, said that he knew of this from conversations hehad himself had with Stryker. But he had supposed the butler had saved upfunds for his insurance premium. He now learned that the support and careof the sick man had made this impossible.

  So Stryker was strongly suspected of the crime, and every effort was madeto find the missing man.

  Meantime Alvin Duane came. Though alleged to be a clever detective, headmitted he found little to work upon.

  "It is too late," he said, "to look for clues on the scene of the crime.Had I been called in earlier, I might have found something, but afternearly a fortnight of damp, rainy weather, one can expect nothing in theway of footprints or other traces, though, of course, I shall lookcarefully."

  Duane was a middle-aged, grizzled man, and though earnest and serious,was not a brilliant member of his profession. He had, he said himself, nouse for the hair-trigger deductions of imaginative brains which, oftenerthan not, were false. Give him good, material clues, and attestedevidence, and he would hunt down a criminal as quickly as anybody, butnot from a shred of cloth or a missing cuff-link.

  Eleanor Black, with her dislike of detectives of all sorts, was openlyrude to Duane. He was in and out of the house at all hours; he wascontinually wanting to intrude in the individual rooms, look over Mr.Trowbridge's papers, quiz the servants, or hold long confabs with Aviceor Kane Landon or herself, until she declared she was sick of the verysight of him.

  "I don't care," Avice would say; "if he can find the murderer, he can goabout it any way he chooses. He isn't as sure that Stryker's guilty asMr. Groot is. Mr. Duane says if Stryker did it, it was because somebodyelse hired him or forced him to do it."

  "Well, what if it was? I can't see, Avice, why you want to keep at it.What difference does it make who killed Rowland? He is dead, and to findhis murderer won't restore him to life. For my part, I'd like to forgetall the unpleasant details as soon as possible. I think you are morbid onthe subject."

  "Not at all! It's common justice and common sense to want to punish acriminal, most of all a murderer! Judge Hoyt agrees with me, and so doesKane----"

  "Mr. Landon didn't want you to get Mr. Duane, you know that."

  "I do know it, but only because Kane thought the mystery too deep ever tobe solved. But I am willing to spend a lot of money on it, and Judge Hoytis willing to share the expense if it becomes too heavy for me alone."

  "The judge would do anything you say, of course. I think you treat himabominably, Avice. You're everlastingly flirting with Mr. Landon, and itgrieves Judge Hoyt terribly."

  "Don't bother about my love affairs, Eleanor. I can manage them."

  "First thing you know, you'll go too far, and Judge Hoyt will give youup. He won't stand everything. And where will your fortune be then?"

  "You alarm me!" said Avice, sarcastically. "But when I really needadvice, my dear Eleanor, I'll ask you for it."

  "Oh, don't let's quarrel. But I do wish you'd see your detective friendssomewhere else. If it isn't Mr. Duane, it's that Groot or young Pinckney,and sometimes that ridiculous office boy with the carrot head."

  "His hair _is_ funny, isn't it? But Fibsy is a little trump. He's moresaddened at Uncle Rowly's death than lots of better men."

  "Hasn't he found another place to work yet?"

  "He's had chances, but he hasn't accepted any so far."

  "Well, he's a nuisance, coming round here as he does."

  "Why, you needn't see him, Eleanor. He can't trouble you, if he justcomes now and then to see me. And anyway, he hasn't been here lately atall."

  "And I hope he won't. Dear me, Avice, what good times we could have ifyou'd let up on this ferreting. And you know perfectly well it will neveramount to anything."

  "If you talk like that, Eleanor, I'll go and live somewhere else. Perhapsyou'd rather I would."

  "No, not that,--unless you'd really prefer it. But I do hate detectives,whether they're police, professional or amateur."

  Avice repeated this conversation to Duane, and he proposed that they havesome of their interviews in his office, and he would then come to thehouse less frequently.

  So, Avice went to his office and found it decidedly preferable to talk ina place where there was no danger of being overheard by servants orfriends.

  After due consideration she had concluded to tell the detective aboutEleanor's telephone message the night of the murder and her ownsubsequent call of the same number.

  "This is most important," said Duane, "why didn't you tell me sooner?"

  "For one thing, Mrs. Black was always within hearing at home, and Ididn't like to."

  "I think I'll go right now to see this Lindsay; he may give us somevaluable information."

  And Lindsay did.

  He was a frank, outspoken young man and told Duane all he knew which wasconsiderable.

  "Of course, I read all about the murder that the papers told," he said,"but I always felt there was more to come. What about that housekeeperperson?"

  "Mrs. Black?"

  "Yes. I've not wanted to butt in, but she was described in the papers andthen,--well, it's a queer thing,--but some sweet-voiced fairy called meup one day and asked me if I knew Mrs. Black!"

  "Perhaps that was the lady herself," said Duane, who knew better.

  "Don't think so. Sounded more like some damsel in distress. Voicequivered and all that sort of thing. And she said that the Black personhad called up this number the very night of the murder! What do you thinkof that?"

  "Strange!" murmured Duane.

  "Yes, sir, strange enough, when you realize that Kane Landon occupiedthese rooms of mine that night."

  "How did that happen?"

  "Well, Landon is an old friend of mine,--used to be, that is,--and whenhe blew in from Denver, with no home and mother waiting for him, and Iwas just flying off for a few days out of town, I said, 'Bunk here,' andhe gratefully did. Then next
thing I know, he's gone off to his uncle'sinquest, leaving a note of thanks and farewell! Queer, if you ask me!"

  "I do ask you. And I ask you, too, if you're casting any reflection onMr. Landon himself?"

  "Oh, not that, but you'd think he'd come to see me, or something."

  "Yes, I'd think so. Did he talk to you of money matters?"

  "Not to any great extent. Said he had a big mining proposition that meanta fortune if he could get the necessary advance capital. Said he hoped toget it from his uncle."

  "Not meaning by a legacy?"

  "Oh, no. Said he was going to bone the old man for it. Which he did,according to the yarn of a fresh office boy."

  "Well, Mr. Lindsay, I'm glad you're so frank in this matter. Do you knowanything further of interest regarding Kane Landon?"

  "I'm not sure. What does this housekeeper look like?"

  "Rather stunning. Handsome, in a dark, foreign way. Big, black eyes,and--"

  "Look like an adventuress?"

  "Yes, I must admit that term describes her."

  "Black, glossy hair, 'most covering her ears, and mighty well groomed?"

  "Exactly."

  "Then Kane Landon met that woman by appointment Tuesday afternoon,--theday of his uncle's murder."

  "Where?"

  "In the Public Library. They didn't see me, but I was attracted at thesight of this beautiful woman on one of the marble benches in one of thehalls, evidently waiting for somebody. Then Landon came and he greetedher eagerly. She gave him a small packet, wrapped in paper, and theytalked so earnestly they didn't see me at all. I was only there for ashort time, to look up a matter of reference for some people I wasvisiting. We had motored in from Long Island,--Landon was then in myrooms, you know."

  "What time was this?"

  "Just half-past two. I know, because I had told my people I'd meet themagain at three, and I wanted a half hour for my research, and had it,too."

  "This is most important, Mr. Lindsay. You are prepared to swear it all asa witness, if called on?"

  "Oh, it's all true, of course. But, I say, I don't want to get old Landonin trouble."

  "It doesn't necessarily imply that. Perhaps Mrs. Black may be implicatedmore than we have supposed. But he, I understand, denies knowing the ladyuntil meeting her here, after his uncle's death."

  "Nonsense, he knew her for years out in Denver. They are old friends."

  "That, too, is of importance. Why should he wish to pretend they werenot?"

  "I don't know, I'm sure. But Landon always was a queer Dick. You know heleft college before he was graduated, because of a quarrel with this sameuncle. Mr. Trowbridge was putting him through, and they had a tiff aboutsomething, and Kane chucked it all, and went off out West. Been thereever since, till just now, and it's a pity he hadn't stayed there ratherthan to get mixed up in this affair."

  "You consider him mixed up in it, then?"

  "I wouldn't say that, but I know the police are still hinting at hispossible connection with the matter and the Press, you know, will try tohang the crime on to somebody worth while. They don't want to suspecthighwaymen or Swedish passers-by, if they can get a man higher up. Now,do they?"

  "I can't say. I've only just begun on this case, and I wish I'd beencalled sooner. It's a great thing to get in at the beginning----"

  "Yes, when the clues are fresh. Well, if I can help you in any way, callon me. Landon is my friend, but if he's innocent, investigation won'thurt him, and if he's implicated, he ought to be shown up."

  Alvin Duane went away, full of new theories. If Kane Landon did kill hisuncle, here were several bits of corroborative evidence. If Mrs. Blackwas an old friend of his, and they had pretended otherwise, that was asuspicious circumstance in itself. And if they were both entirelyinnocent and unconnected in any way with the murder, why did they meetsecretly in the library instead of openly at the Trowbridge home? Thesethings must be explained, and satisfactorily, too.

  Also, what was in the package that she went there to give him? Lindsayhad said it was about the size of a brick, but flatter. Was it, could ithave been a handkerchief of Stryker's? Duane's brain was leaping wildlynow. Supposing these two conspirators were responsible for the murder.Supposing Kane had been the subject of his uncle's dying words, and hadhimself committed the deed, might it not be that the adventuress (as healready called Mrs. Black) had brought him a handkerchief of the butler'sin deliberate scheming to fasten the crime on Stryker! That Landon hadleft it there purposely, and that Stryker discovering this, had fled, infear of being unable to prove his innocence.

  All theory, to be sure, but well-founded theory backed by the recordedfacts, which Duane had studied till he knew them by heart.

  Then the telephone caller who said "Uncle" was really the nephew, and the"stephanotis" and Caribbean Sea were jokes between the two, or as wasmore likely, figments of the stenographer's fertile brain.

  On an impulse, Duane went to see Miss Wilkinson, the stenographer, andverify his ideas.

  "You're sure it was a man's voice?" he asked her.

  "Sure," she replied, always ready to reiterate this, though she had beenquizzed about it a dozen times.

  "Do you think it could have been Mr. Landon?"

  "Yes, I think it could have been Mr. Landon, or Mr. Stryker, or thePresident of the United States. There isn't anybody I _don't_ think itcould have been! I tell you the voice was purposely disguised. Sort ofsqueaky and high pitched. So _can't_ you see that it was really a manwith a natchelly low voice? You detectives make me tired! I give you thestraight goods that it was a disguised voice, and so, unreckonizable.Then you all come round and say, 'was it this one?' 'was it that one?' Itell you I don't _know_. If I'd a known whose voice it was, I'd a told atthe inquest. I ain't one to keep back the weels of justice, I ain't!"

  "Never mind the voice then. Tell me again of those queer words----"

  "Oh, for the land's sake! I wish I'd never heard 'em! Well, one wasstephanotis,--got that? It's a _very_ expensive puffume, and the next manthat asks me about it, has got to gimme a bottle. I had a bottleonct----"

  "I know, I know," said Duane, hastily, "that's how you came to know thename."

  "Yep. Now, go on to the Caribbean Sea." The blonde looked cross andbored. "No, I _don't_ know why anybody invited Mr. Trowbridge to theCaribbean; if I had I'd been most pleased to tell long ago. But somebodydid. I heard it as plain as I hear you now. Yes, I'm sure it _was_ theCaribbean Sea, and not the Medtranean nor the Red Sea nor the Bay ofOshkosh! So there, now. Anything else this morning?"

  "How pettish you are!"

  "And so would you be if everybody was a pesterin' you about them oldwords. Can I help it if the man talked Greek? Can I help it if hesqueaked his voice so's I couldn't reckonize it? I gave my testimony andit was all recorded. Why can't you read that over and let me alone, I'dlike to know!"

  But after a pleasant little gift of a paper, fresh from the United StatesBureau of Engraving and Printing, Miss Wilkinson grew a little more sunnytempered.

  "No," she said, in answer to Duane's last question, "I can't quiteremember whether the voice said _he_ had set a trap or somebody else hadset one. But I'm positive he said one or the other. And he said the trapwas set for Mr. Trowbridge,--whoever set it."