ISABEL OSTRANDER: Mystery & Western Classics: One Thirty, The Crevice, Anything Once, The Fifth Ace & Island of Intrigue. Isabel Ostrander
even know that it was ever loaded."
"Where did he keep it?"
"I haven't the least idea. It's months since I saw it."
"Where did you see it last?"
The questions were pelted pitilessly at him, and he was visibly writhing about under them. At the last one, he blurted out desperately:
"In the-- the den."
"Will you go, please, and bring it here?"
"I don't know where it is, I tell you!" he almost shouted, the perspiration standing out in great beads on his forehead.
"Will you go to the den, and look for it?" Then, as the young man seemed to hesitate, he added: "Mr. Appleton's body has been removed."
With a sudden movement, Yates Appleton turned and bolted from the room, and those within it sat in a tense silence, waiting.
Finally, there was an exclamation, almost a shout, from down the hall, and the young man rushed in.
"It's gone!" he cried. "Someone's taken it! It's gone from the drawer, where he always kept it!"
Damon Gaunt reached in his hip-pocket, and drew forth something, which he held out.
"Is this it?" he asked, quietly.
Yates Appleton snatched it from his hands.
"Let me see!" he bent, trembling, over it. Then, he turned roughly upon the detective. "Yes, by gad, it is! And you're a fool if you think it had anything to do with the murder! It's fully loaded! Here! You can see for yourself!" He thrust it into the Coroner's hands.
"Yes, it's fully loaded," Grant conceded, steadily. "But it has been lately fired, and reloaded-- within a few hours, perhaps. An attempt has been made to clean it, but not thoroughly. It still reeks of powder."
"Where did you get it?" Yates Appleton demanded, furiously.
"In the drawer in the library table, where you say your brother always kept it; in the drawer where it was placed in the early hours of this morning, by the hand which reloaded and cleaned it-- the same hand which pried open the catch of the window from the inside, and smeared the curtains with the blood of a man long dead. The weapon which was the instrument of death was Garret Appleton's own revolver!"
Chapter III
Lies
There was a moment of electrified silence, and then Mrs. Finlay Appleton arose majestically to her feet.
"Mr. Gaunt, do you mean to imply that my son committed suicide, and that someone else, coming upon his body hours afterward, attempted to conceal the evidence of his act, and to create a false impression of theft and murder? You go too far, sir! Such a deduction is that of a mind, to say the least, gone astray!"
"I imply nothing of the sort, Mrs. Appleton. I assert that your son was killed by some person, at present unknown, who did not enter by way of the window; and that the murderer, or someone else, coming by chance upon the body, sought to convey a false impression of the manner of your son's death. That is the case as it stands now."
"I cannot believe it! It is preposterous--unthinkable! Why should anyone do such a thing? What motive could there be? No one in my household could be capable of it! I trust my servants implicitly!" The dominant woman had forgotten for the moment that it was of her daughter-in-law's house she spoke, her daughter-in-law's servants.
"Good God!" Yates Appleton ejaculated in a low tone. He was wiping his forehead, and staring at the detective with something akin to horror in his eyes.
"Mr. Appleton," Gaunt turned to him, "your mother tells me that you and she are planning to leave this house today; I should like a word in private with you before you go."
"Y-yes, Mr. Gaunt. Perhaps you'll come to my room? My man is packing there now; but I'll dismiss him--"
"I'll come presently, when I've had a word with the Coroner."
The Judge had turned to Mrs. Appleton, and was saying softly:
"You are leaving this house--leaving Natalie in her grief?"
"Her grief is not overwhelming, my dear friend. There is no need of pretense to you. She's merely hysterical now, and Barbara is taking care of her."
"But, Catherine, is it wise? Is it--politic?"
"I don't know. I know the house is horrible to me; that I could not spend another night in it!"
The Judge sighed.
"Could I speak to Natalie for a moment, do you think?"
"I'll see." Mrs. Appleton swept from the room as if glad to escape even momentarily from Gaunt's presence, and the. Judge turned to where his daughter, with white, set face and staring eyes, crouched in the window-seat.
Meanwhile, the Coroner said in a low, excited tone:
"You're sure of what you said, Mr. Gaunt? That was a pretty strong statement you made. After all, you know, you've the merest circumstantial evidence to go on."
"Good heavens, man! Don't the facts bear me out so far? And I made that statement as openly as I did, for a good and sufficient reason. Be sure you keep that revolver from being handled too much. You'll need the powder-traces on it as evidence, later."
"Judge Carhart, if you will come with me--" Mrs. Appleton's voice came from just behind them, --"Natalie would like to see you for a moment."
When the Judge had left the room, the Coroner, too, departed, and Gaunt crossed to where the slim, still figure was seated among the cushions.
"You--you're blind aren't you, Mr. Gaunt?" the girl asked curiously, but not unkindly. "How did you know where I was sitting?"
"By your perfume. Miss Carhart," he replied, with a smile. "You know, we who are bereft of one sense must train the others to act for us in place of the one we have lost. That perfume is very strange, unusual."
"Yes. My father has it sent from India. He used to get it for my mother. It has an unpronounceable name, meaning 'The Rose in Death.'" She shivered a little at the last word, then went on hurriedly: "It is supposed to be very, very old. I believe it was first distilled for the queen in whose memory the Taj-Mahal was built.... But tell me, Mr. Gaunt, is it really true that Garret-- that Mr. Appleton was--murdered? Even after hearing what you have all just said, I cannot believe it."
"He is dead," Gaunt answered, gently. "By whose hand we have yet to learn. Try to recall everything that happened last evening, every little, trivial incident, which may have slipped your memory. There was nothing--not a word or a look from anyone out of the ordinary?"
"I can't think--you frighten me so, Mr. Gaunt! You make me feel as if you suspected every one of us! Surely, it was a burglar, was it not? Mr. Appleton's money and jewelry are also gone, they say. Oh, what does it all mean? Who can have done it?"
"Try to calm yourself. Miss Carhart, and collect your thoughts, and tell me exactly what happened last evening--everything which you can remember."
"Why, we dined--just a simple family dinner-- you know, we're all awfully old friends--Mrs. Appleton, and" my father, and Garret and his wife, and Miss Ellerslie, and Yates, and I. And then, afterward--let me see. Oh, yes Miss Ellerslie went to a wedding with a party of friends, who called for her--"
"A wedding?"
"Yes. An old friend from the South, I believe. And Yates went out, too. Mrs. Appleton and father played double-dummy bridge, and Garret and his wife and I chatted for awhile. Then Garret's wife said she wasn't feeling very well, and excused herself and went up-stairs, and Garret and I sat and talked until father and Mrs Appleton finished their game, and we went home. That is all."
"What