LOUIS'S CONFESSION
Elsa had been gone but a few moments when Florence Lloyd returned to the library. I arose to greet her and marvelled at the change which had come over her. Surely here was a girl of a thousand moods. She had left me with an effect of hauteur and disdain; she returned, gentle and charming, almost humble. I could not understand it, and remained standing after she had seated herself, awaiting developments.
"Sit down, Mr. Burroughs," she said, and her low, sweet voice seemed full of cordial invitation. "I'm, afraid I was rude to you, when I went away just now; and I want to say that if I can tell you anything you wish to know, I should be glad to do so."
I drew up a chair and seated myself near her. My heart was pounding with excitement at this new phase of the girl's nature.
For an instant it seemed as if she must have a personal kindly feeling toward me, and then my reason returned, and with a suddenly falling heart and slowing pulses, I realized that I was a fool, and that after thinking over the disclosures Louis had made, Miss Lloyd had shrewdly concluded it was to her best advantage to curry favor with the detective. This knowledge came to me instinctively, and so I distrusted her gentle voice and winning smile, and hardening my heart against her, I resolved to turn this new mood of hers to my own advantage, and learn what I could while she was willing to converse:
"I'm glad of this opportunity, Miss Lloyd," I said, "for there are some phases of this affair that I want to discuss with you alone. Let us talk the matter over quietly. It is as well that you should know that there are some doubts felt as to the entire truth of the story you told at the inquest. I do not say this to frighten you," I added, as the poor girl clasped her hands and gave me a look of dumb alarm; "but, since it is so, I want to do all I can to set the matter right. Do you remember exactly all that took place, to your knowledge, on the night of your uncle's death?"
"Yes," she replied, looking more frightened still. It was evident that she knew more than she had yet revealed, but I almost forgot my inquiry, so absorbed was I in watching her lovely face. It was even more exquisite in its terrified pallor than when the fleeting pink showed in her cheeks.
"Then," I said, "let us go over it. You heard your uncle go out at about eight o'clock and return about nine?"
"Yes, I heard the front door open and close both times."
"You and Mrs. Pierce being in the music-room, of course. Then, later, you heard a visitor enter, and again you heard him leave?"
"Yes - Mr. Porter."
"Did you know it was Mr. Porter, at the time he was here?"
"No; I think not. I didn't think at all who it might be. Uncle Joseph often had men to call in the evening."
"About what time did Mr. Porter leave?"
"A few minutes before ten. I heard Lambert say, `Good-night, sir,' as he closed the door after him."
"And soon after, you and Mrs. Pierce went upstairs?"
"Yes; only a few minutes after."
"And, later, Mrs. Pierce came to your room?"
"Yes; about half-past ten, I should say; she came to get a book.
She didn't stay two minutes."
"And after that, you went down-stairs again to speak to your uncle?" For the merest instant Miss Lloyd's eyes closed and she swayed as if about to faint, but she regained her composure at once, and answered with some asperity "I did not. I have told you that I did not leave my room again that night."
Her dark eyes blazed, her cheeks flushed, and though her full lower lip quivered it was with anger now, not fear.
As I watched her, I wondered how I could have thought her more beautiful when pale. Surely with this glowing color she was at her glorious best.
"Then when did you drop the two rose petals there?" I went on, calmly enough, though my own heart was beating fast.
"I did not drop them. They were left there by some intruder."
"But, Miss Lloyd," and I observed her closely, "the petals were from a rose such as those Mr. Hall sent you that evening. The florist assures me there were no more such blossoms in West Sedgwick at that time. The fallen petals, then, were from one of your own roses, or - "
"Or?" asked Miss Lloyd, her hands pressed against the laces at her throbbing bosom. "Or?"
"Or," I went on, "from a rose worn by some one who had come out from New York on a late train."
For the moment I chose to ignore Louis's rose for I wanted to learn anything Miss Lloyd could tell me. And, too, the yellow petals might have fallen from a flower in Hall's coat after all.
I thought it possible by suggesting this idea, to surprise from her some hint as to whether she had any suspicion of him.
She gave a gasp, and, leaning back in her chair, she closed her eyes, as if spent with a useless struggle.
"Wait a moment," she said, putting out her hand with an imploring gesture. "Wait a moment. Let me think. I will tell you all, but - wait - "
With her eyes still closed, she lay back against the satin chair cushion, and I gazed at her, fascinated.
I knew it! Then and there the knowledge came to me! Not her guilt, not her innocence. The crime seemed far away then, but I knew like a flash not only that I loved this girl, this Florence Lloyd, but that I should never love any one else. It mattered not that she was betrothed to another man; the love that had suddenly sprung to life in my heart was such pure devotion that it asked no return. Guilty or innocent, I loved her. Guilty or innocent, I would clear her; and if the desire of her heart were toward another, she should ever know or suspect my adoration for her.
I gazed at her lovely face, knowing that when her eyes opened I must discreetly turn my glance aside, but blessing every instant of opportunity thus given me.
Her countenance, though troubled and drawn with anxiety, was so pure and sweet that I felt sure of her innocence. But it should be my work to prove that to the world.
Suddenly her eyes flashed open; again her mood had changed.
