The Greatest Works of Anna Katharine Green. Анна Грин
murderer of Mrs. Van Burnam. For I will never speak if I cannot speak in my own way and at my own time. The agonies I have suffered must have some compensation. Otherwise I should die of horror and my grief.”
“And how do you hope to gain compensation by this delay?” expostulated the Superintendent. “Would you not meet with more satisfaction in denouncing him here and now before he can pass another night in fancied security?”
But she only repeated: “I have said two weeks, and two weeks I must have. Two weeks in which to come and go as I please. Two weeks!” And no argument they could advance succeeded in eliciting from her any other response or in altering in any way her air of quiet determination with its underlying suggestion of frenzy.
Acknowledging their mutual defeat by a look, the Superintendent and detective drew off to one side, and something like the following conversation took place between them.
“You think she’s sane?”
“I do.”
“And will remain so two weeks?”
“If humored.”
“You are sure she is implicated in this crime?”
“She was a witness to it.”
“And that she speaks the truth when she declares that she is the only person who can point out the criminal?”
“Yes; that is, she is the only one who will do it. The attitude taken by the Van Burnams, especially by Howard just now in the presence of this girl, shows how little we have to expect from them.”
“Yet you think they know as much as she does about it?”
“I do not know what to think. For once I am baffled, Superintendent. Every passion which this woman possesses was roused by her unexpected meeting with Howard Van Burnam, and yet their indifference when confronted, as well as her present action, seems to argue a lack of connection between them which overthrows at once the theory of his guilt. Was it the sight of Franklin, then, which really affected her? and was her apparent indifference at meeting him only an evidence of her self-control? It seems an impossible conclusion to draw, and indeed there are nothing but hitches and improbable features in this case. Nothing fits; nothing jibes. I get just so far in it and then I run up against a wall. Either there is a superhuman power of duplicity in the persons who contrived this murder or we are on the wrong tack altogether.”
“In other words, you have tried every means known to you to get at the truth of this matter, and failed.”
“I have, sir; sorry as I may be to acknowledge it.”
“Then we must accept her terms. She can be shadowed?”
“Every moment.”
“Very well, then. Extreme cases must be met by extreme measures. We will let her have her swing, and see what comes of it. Revenge is a great weapon in the hands of a determined woman, and from her look I think she will make the most of it.”
And returning to where the young girl stood, the Superintendent asked her whether she felt sure the murderer would not escape in the time that must elapse before his apprehension.
Instantly her cheek, which had looked as if it could never show color again, flushed a deep and painful scarlet, and she cried vehemently:
“If any hint of what is here passing should reach him I should be powerless to prevent his flight. Swear, then, that my very existence shall be kept a secret between you two, or I will do nothing towards his apprehension,—no, not even to save the innocent.”
“We will not swear, but we will promise,” returned the Superintendent. “And now, when may we expect to hear from you again?”
“Two weeks from to-night as the clock strikes eight. Be wherever I may chance to be at that hour, and see on whose arm I lay my hand. It will be that of the man who killed Mrs. Van Burnam.”
Chapter XXXVIII.
A White Satin Gown
The events just related did not come to my knowledge for some days after they occurred, but I have recorded them at this time that I might in some way prepare you for an interview which shortly after took place between myself and Mr. Gryce.
I had not seen him since our rather unsatisfactory parting in front of Miss Althorpe’s house, and the suspense which I had endured in the interim made my greeting unnecessarily warm. But he took it all very naturally.
“You are glad to see me,” said he; “been wondering what has become of Miss Oliver. Well, she is in good hands; with Mrs. Desberger, in short; a woman whom I believe you know.”
“With Mrs. Desberger?” I was surprised. “Why, I have been looking every day in the papers for an account of her arrest.”
“No doubt,” he answered. “But we police are slow; we are not ready to arrest her yet. Meanwhile you can do us a favor. She wants to see you; are you willing to visit her?”
My answer contained but little of the curiosity and eagerness I really felt.
“I am always at your command. Do you wish me to go now?”
“Miss Oliver is impatient,” he admitted. “Her fever is better, but she is in an excited condition of mind which makes her a little unreasonable. To be plain, she is not quite herself, and while we still hope something from her testimony, we are leaving her very much to her own devices, and do not cross her in anything. You will therefore listen to what she says, and, if possible, aid her in anything she may undertake, unless it points directly towards self-destruction. My opinion is that she will surprise you. But you are becoming accustomed to surprises, are you not?”
“Thanks to you, I am.”
“Very well, then, I have but one more suggestion to make. You are working for the police now, madam, and nothing that you see or learn in connection with this girl is to be kept back from us. Am I understood?”
“Perfectly; but it is only proper for me to retort that I am not entirely pleased with the part you assign me. Could you not have left thus much to my good sense, and not put it into so many words?”
“Ah, madam, the case at present is too serious for risks of that kind. Mr. Van Burnam’s reputation, to say nothing of his life, depends upon our knowledge of this girl’s secret; surely you can stretch a point in a matter of so much moment?”
“I have already stretched several, and I can stretch one more, but I hope the girl won’t look at me too often with those miserable appealing eyes of hers; they make me feel like a traitor.”
“You will not be troubled by any appeal in them. The appeal has vanished; something harder and even more difficult to meet is to be found in them now: wrath, purpose, and a desire for vengeance. She is not the same woman, I assure you.”
“Well,” I sighed, “I am sorry; there is something about the girl that lays hold of me, and I hate to see such a change in her. Did she ask for me by name?”
“I believe so.”
“I cannot understand her wanting me, but I will go; and I won’t leave her either till she shows me she is tired of me. I am as anxious to see the end of this matter as you are.” Then, with some vague idea that I had earned a right to some show of confidence on his part, I added insinuatingly: “I supposed you would feel the case settled when she almost fainted at the sight of the younger Mr. Van Burnam.”
The old ambiguous smile I remembered so well came to modify his brusque rejoinder.
“If she had been a woman like you, I should; but she is a deep one, Miss Butterworth; too deep for the success of a little ruse like mine. Are you ready?”
I