The Mark of Cain Page 3

  CHAPTER III PINCKNEY, THE REPORTER

  "There's no use mincing matters," said Mrs. Black, as she and Avice satat breakfast next morning: "I was your uncle's promised wife and I feelthat it is, therefore, my right to assume the head of the household andgive orders."

  Avice looked at her sadly. "I have no objection to your giving orders solong as they in no way interfere with _my_ plans or wishes. But I thinkit would be pleasanter for us both if you were to drop that defiant air,and let us be on a more friendly footing. I quite appreciate yourposition here, but you must remember that though you were engaged to myuncle you were _not_ married to him and that----"

  "That makes no difference in reality! As his future wife, I have everyright of a wife already, so far as this house is concerned. Indeed, it isalready mine, by will as you are soon to find out."

  "Very well, Mrs. Black," said Avice, wearily, "let's not quarrel over it.I'm sure _I_ don't want this house, and I am not at all afraid that myuncle's will leaves me unprovided for. I wish the coroner would come! Ilong to get to work on the solution of the mystery."

  "How you talk!" and Mrs. Black shuddered delicately; "I don't see how youcan bear to have to do with those awful investigations!"

  "Would you sit calmly down, and let the murderer go scot-free?"

  "Yes, rather than mix in with that awful coroner man, and worse still,detectives!" Mrs. Black brought out the word as if she had said"scorpions."

  Avice was about to make an indignant reply, when the bell rang, and thecard was brought in of Mr. Pinckney, a reporter.

  "Don't see him," said Mrs. Black, looking scornfully at the card.

  "Indeed I shall," and Avice rose determinedly. "Why, if I don't set himstraight, there's no telling what he'll print!"

  Realizing this, Mrs. Black followed the girl into the library, andtogether they met the reporter.

  "Awfully sorry to intrude," said a frank-faced, nice-voiced young man."Often I wish I'd chosen any other career than that of a reporter.Downright good of you to see me, Miss Trowbridge,--isn't it?"

  "Yes," said Avice, "I am Miss Trowbridge and this is Mrs. Black."

  "What can we tell you?" said Mrs. Black, acknowledging the visitor's bow,and quickly taking the initiative. "There is so little to tell----"

  "Ah, yes," and the interrupting Pinckney deliberately turned to Avice."But you will tell me all you know, won't you? It's so annoying to thefamily to have details made up--and--we must get the news somehow."

  His youthful, almost boyish air pleased Avice, who had thought reportersa crude, rather slangy lot, and she responded at once.

  "Indeed I will Mr. Pinckney. It's horrid to have things told wrongly,especially a thing like this." Her eyes filled, and the reporter lookeddown at his still empty notebook.

  "But, don't you see, Miss Trowbridge," he said, gently "if you tell methe details it might help in unearthing the truth,--for you don't knowwho did it, do you?"

  "No, we don't" broke in Eleanor Black; "you'd better not try to talkAvice, dear, you are so unstrung. Let me answer Mr. Pinckney'squestions."

  "I'm not unstrung, Eleanor, at least not so much so that I can't talk.Mr. Pinckney, if you can be of assistance in any way of solving themystery of my uncle's death, I shall be very grateful. The inquest willbe held this morning, and I suppose,--I hope that will throw some lighton it all. But just now I know of no way to look."

  "Oh of course, it was a highway robber," said Mrs. Black. "There can beno doubt of it."

  "But is there any proof of it?" and the reporter looked at herinquiringly. "No doubt is not sufficient, proof positive is what wewant."

  "Of course, we do," agreed Avice. "Just think, Mr. Pinckney, we know_nothing_ but that my uncle was stabbed to death in the woods. We don'teven know why he went into the woods. Though that, of course, is probablya simple reason. He was a naturalist and went often on long trampslooking for certain specimens for his collections."

  "Yes, that would explain his being there," said Pinckney, eagerly. "Didyou know he was going?"

  "No; on the contrary he said he would be home at five o'clock."

  "He told _me_ he might be home earlier," said Mrs. Black, lookingsorrowful. "I expected him as early as three or four, for we were goingout together. You see, Mr. Trowbridge was my fiance."

  "Ah," and Pinckney looked at her with increased interest. "Are thereother members of this household?"

  "No," replied Mrs. Black. "Just Mr. Trowbridge and myself, and our dearniece, Miss Trowbridge. We were a very happy family, and now----" Mrs.Black raised her handkerchief to her eyes, "and now, I am all alone."

  "You two will not remain together, then?" the reportorial instinctcropped out.

  "We haven't decided on anything of that sort yet," broke in Avice."Eleanor, don't be ridiculous! Mr. Pinckney is not interested in ourdomestic arrangements."

  "Indeed I am. The readers of _The Gazette_ are all anxious to know theleast details of your life and home."

  "They must be disappointed then," and Avice's haughty look forbadefurther personal questions.

  "Tell me more of the--the tragedy, then. Was the weapon found?"

  "No, not that I know of," and Avice looked surprised. "I never thought ofit."

  "No, it was not," affirmed Mrs. Black. "The police were unable to findany weapon."

  "Too bad," frowned Pinckney; "the dear public loses a thrill."

  "The public? Do they care?" and Avice started.

  "Rather! New Yorkers love a murder mystery if there are gruesome elementshere and there."

  "All I want is justice," and Avice's big, brown eyes turned full onPinckney's face. "You know about such things. Do you suppose we can tracethe murderer with so little to go on?"

  "Can't tell yet. May be lots of evidence forthcoming at the inquest."

  At this point Mrs. Black was called from the room by a servant, andPinckney said quickly, "Who is she? and why don't you like her?"

  For some reason, Avice did not resent the man's directness, and answered,slowly. "She is housekeeper, and was engaged to my uncle. I don't dislikeher,--not altogether."

  "Is she Italian? She looks so."

  "Of Italian descent, yes. Why?"

  "Nothing. She's a stunner for looks, but she's entirely able to take careof herself. I say, Miss Trowbridge, are you alone,--in this matter, Imean."

  "In a way, I am. There is no one in the house but the housekeeper andmyself. But Judge Hoyt, my uncle's lawyer, looks after all businessaffairs for us."

  "Judge Hoyt?"

  "Yes, Leslie Hoyt."

  "You're fixed all right that way, then. But I say, Miss Trowbridge, Idon't want you to think me impertinent, but if I can help you at all inlooking about,--investigating, you know,----"

  "Do you mean detecting?"

  "Yes, in a small way. I've opportunities to go into the world and inquireinto things that are a sealed book to you. But I suppose you'll havedetectives, and all that. And any way, it's too soon to think about it.But remember, if you want any sleuthing done,--on the side, in an amateurway I'd be awfully glad to help you out."

  "That's kind of you Mr. Pinckney, and I'll be glad to take advantage ofyour offer. But do you have to put everything in your paper?"

  "Just about. Oh, of course, if I unearth anything of importance,--like aclue, you know, I'd tell the police first but I'd want the scoop forours."

  "How can there be any clues when it happened in the lonely woods? Ithought clues were little things picked up off the floor, or found inpeople's pockets."

  "Well, mightn't they pick up little things off the ground? Or find themin your uncle's pockets?"

  "Do you think they will? Mr. Pinckney, you've no idea how I want to findthe murderer! I never knew before that I had so much revenge in mynature, but I feel now I could devote my whole life, if need be, totracking down that villain! I loved my uncle almost like a father. Mostgirls, I suppose, would be so broken up with grief that they couldn'tta
lk like this, but I seem to find the only comfort in the thought ofavenging this horrible deed!"

  "Don't bank on it too much, Miss Trowbridge. They say only one murdererin six is convicted, and in only a small fraction of murders is anybodyeven suspected of the crime. But this case will be ferreted out, I'msure, both because of the prominence of your uncle, and the fact thatthere is money enough to hire the best talent, if desired."

  "Indeed it is desired! I shall, of course, inherit much of my uncle'sfortune, and I would spend every penny rather than fail in the search!"

  "You won't mind my reporting this conversation, will you, MissTrowbridge? I'm here for a story, you know,----"

  "Oh, must you put me in the paper? Please don't!"

  "I won't put anything you won't like. But our readers want you. You know,all the men want now-a-days is a graft yarn, and the women, some insidesociety gos--information."

  Avice would have made further objection to newspaper publicity, butpeople began to arrive, and, too, Pinckney was content to leave offconversation at that point.

  He was young, and enthusiastic in his chosen career. Moreover, he wascanny and clever. He had further chat with Mrs. Black, and he managed toget a few words with the servants. And somehow, by hook or crook, hesecured photographs of both women, and of the house, as well as of thevictim of the tragedy himself.

  Aside from reportorial talent, Pinckney had a taste for detective work.He was, or fancied himself, the stuff of which story-book detectives aremade, and he was more than glad to have the press assignment of thiscase, which might give him wide range for his powers of deduction.

  When Judge Hoyt arrived, he at once sought out Avice, and his fine,impassive face grew infinitely gentle as he greeted the sad-eyed girl.

  In her black gown, she looked older, and her pale cheeks and drawncountenance told of a sleepless night.

  "How are you dear?" asked Hoyt, taking her hands in his. "I've been soanxious about you."

  "I'm all right," and Avice tried to smile bravely. "But I'm glad you'vecome. I feel so alone and responsible--Mr. Pinckney says I have asplendid lawyer--but I don't see anything for a lawyer to do."

  "There may be. I believe the police have made quite a few discoveries,though I know nothing definite. Of course, all my legal powers are atyour disposal, but I too, doubt if the criminal is ever apprehended."

  "Oh, don't say that! We _must_ find him! You will, won't you?"

  "I'll do my best Avice. But I am a lawyer, not a detective, you know."

  "But you're a judge, and you have been district attorney, and you're thegreatest criminal lawyer in the state!"

  "Yes, but a criminal lawyer must have a criminal to convict. Rest assuredif the criminal is found, he shall have full punishment."

  "Of course, but I want help to find him. I want to employ detectivesand----"

  "And so you shall, but wait Avice, until the inquest is over. That maybring developments. I wish I had been here in New York yesterday."

  "What could you have done?"

  "Perhaps nothing to prevent or help, but I would have been at youruncle's office during the day, and I would have known of his plans. Whois this Pinckney you mentioned?"

  "A reporter for _The Daily Gazette_? I didn't want to see him at first,but I'm glad I did. He's going to help me detect."

  "Avice, dear, 'detecting' as you call it, isn't a casual thing, to bedone by anybody. It's a trade, a profession----"

  "Yes, I know. But Mr. Pinckney knows something of it, and he is verykind."

  "When a reporter is kind, it's only for his personal benefit. The momentcrime is committed, Avice, the reporters are on the job, and they neverlet go of it, until all suspects are freed or sentenced. But what theylearn by their 'detection' is only for their paper; it is rarely given intestimony, or turned to real account."

  "Mr. Pinckney will help me, I'm sure," Avice persisted. "And besides, hewas in college with Mr. Landon, uncle's nephew out West."

  "Landon? The chap you used to be in love with?" and Judge Hoyt made a wryface.

  "In love! Nonsense! I'm as much in love with him now as I ever was."

  "And how much is that?"

  "It's so long since I've seen him, I've forgotten," and Avice, whocouldn't help an occasional flash of her innate coquetry, smiled up intothe stern face regarding her.

  "Beg pardon, Miss Avice," said Stryker, the butler, coming toward them;"but do you want to be in the drawing-room for the--the inquest, orupstairs?"

  "I want to be right near the coroner and the jury. I want to knoweverything that goes on. Shall we go in there now, Leslie?"

  "Yes, in a moment. What do you know of Mr. Trowbridge's death, Stryker?"

  "Me, Judge Hoyt? Nothing,--nothing at all, sir. How should I?"

  "I don't know, I'm sure. I merely asked. Where were you yesterdayafternoon, Stryker?"

  "It was my day off, sir. I was out all afternoon."

  "Oh, all right. Don't take my question too seriously." Hoyt spoke kindly,for the butler showed considerable agitation. He started to saysomething, paused, stammered, and finally burst out with, "_I_ didn'tkill him, Sir!"

  "Good Lord, Stryker, nobody thought you did! But don't show such a scaredface to the coroner when he questions you, or he may think all sorts ofthings."

  "What c--could he think?"

  "Nothing that I know of. By the way, Stryker, now that Mr. Trowbridge isgone, you can take out that insurance policy, can't you?"

  "Oh, Mr. Hoyt, don't speak of such things now!" and the old butler fairlywrung his hands.

  "All right, I won't. But when you want to talk it over, come to me. Isthat your Pinckney, Avice, talking to Mrs. Black?"

  "Yes; why, he's interviewing her! See his notebook. She is telling himlots!"

  "He's getting what they call a 'sob story.' She's working on hissympathies by pathetic tales of her loss. How does she treat you? Allright?"

  "Yes, except that she wants to be head of the house, and----"

  "That will settle itself. You won't stay here, dear, you will come to me.We will----"

  "Please don't talk like that now. I can't bear it." Avice's brave,determined air forsook her, and with quivering lip, she lookedimploringly at the man who gazed passionately into her troubled eyes.

  "Forgive me, dear, I should have known better. But when I think of you,here, alone, save for a woman who is nothing to you, I want to carry youoff where I can protect you from all annoyance or trouble."

  "I know you do, and I ought to feel more grateful, but I can't seem tothink of anything just now but----"

  "Of course, my darling, I understand, and it is all right. Only tell mewhat you want and I am at your orders, always and forever."

  "Then come with me to the other room, stay by me, and tell me what thingsmean, when I don't understand. Listen, too, yourself, to everything, soyou'll know just what to do when the police fail."

  "Why are you so sure they will fail?"

  "Because the case is all so mysterious. Because it will take a clever andskilled brain to find my uncle's murderer."

  Avice spoke in low, intense tones, as if she were stirred to the verysoul by her harrowing anxiety.

  "Avice," said Hoyt, suddenly, "have you any suspicion of anybody--anybodyat all?"

  "No! oh, no! How could I have?"

  "But have you?" Hoyt scanned her face closely, noting the quickly droppedeyelids and firm, set mouth.

  "Not a suspicion--oh, no!"

  "A premonition, then? A vague idea of any way to look?"

  "No--no. No, I haven't."

  The first negative was hesitating, the second, positive and decided. Itwas as if she had instantly made up her mind to say nothing more.

  Leslie Hoyt looked at her, and then with a gentle smile, as of onehumoring a child, he said: "All right, dear. Come now with me."

  And together, they went to listen to the inquest held to determine thecircumstances of the death of Rowland Trowbridge.