"I will trouble you no further."So said the old detective,thoughtfully."Sweetwater,help me out of this."His eye was dull and his manner betrayed exhaustion.But vigour returned to him before he had well reached the door,and he showed some of his old spirit as he thanked Miss Clarke and turned to take the elevator.
"But one possibility remains,"he confided to Sweetwater,as they stood waiting at the elevator door."Miss Challoner died from a stab.The next minute she was in this lady's arms.No weapon protruded from the wound,nor was any found on or near her in the mezzanine.What follows?She struck the blow herself,and the strength of purpose which led her to do this,gave her the additional force to pull the weapon out and fling it from her.It did not fall upon the floor around her;therefore,it flew through one of those openings into the lobby,and there it either will be,or has been found."It was this statement,otherwise worded,which gave me my triumph over George.
VTHE RED CLOAK
"What results?Speak up,Sweetwater."
"None.Every man,woman and boy connected with the hotel has been questioned;many of them routed out of their beds for the purpose,but not one of them picked up anything from the floor of the lobby,or knows of any one who did."There now remain the guests."
"And after them -(pardon me,Mr.Gryce)the general public which rushed in rather promiscuously last night.""I know it;it's a task,but it must be carried through.Put up bulletins,publish your wants in the papers;-do anything,only gain your end."A bulletin was put up.
Some hours later,Sweetwater re-entered the room,and,approaching Mr.Gryce with a smile,blurted out:
"The bulletin is a great go.I think -of course,I cannot be sure -that it's going to do the business.I've watched every one who stopped to read it.Many showed interest and many,emotion;she seems to have had a troop of friends.But embarrassment!only one showed that.I thought you would like to know.""Embarrassment?Humph!a man?"
"No,a woman;a lady,sir;one of the transients.I found out in a jiffy all they could tell me about her.""A woman!We didn't expect that.Where is she?Still in the lobby?""No,sir.She took the elevator while I was talking with the clerk.""There's nothing in it.You mistook her expression.""I don't think so.I had noticed her when she first came into the lobby.She was talking to her daughter who was with her,and looked natural and happy.But no sooner had she seen and read that bulletin,than the blood shot up into her face and her manner became furtive and hasty.There was no mistaking the difference,sir.
Almost before I could point her out,she had seized her daughter by the arm and hurried her towards the elevator.I wanted to follow her,but you may prefer to make your own inquiries.Her room is on the seventh floor,number 712,and her name is Watkins.Mrs.Horace Watkins of Nashville."Mr.Gryce nodded thoughtfully,but made no immediate effort to rise.
"Is that all you know about her?"he asked.
"Yes;this is the first time she has stopped at this hotel.She came yesterday.Took a room indefinitely.Seems all right;but she did blush,sir.I ever saw its beat in a young girl.""Call the desk.Say that I'm to be told if Mrs.Watkins of Nashville rings up during the next ten minutes.We'll give her that long to take some action.If she fails to make any move,I'll make my own approaches."Sweetwater did as he was bid,then went back to his place in the lobby.
But he returned almost instantly.
"Mrs.Watkins has just telephoned down that she is going to -to leave,sir.""To leave?"
The old man struggled to his feet."No.712,do you say?Seven stories,"he sighed.But as he turned with a hobble,he stopped.
"There are difficulties in the way of this interview,"he remarked.
"A blush is not much to go upon.I'm afraid we shall have to resort to the shadow business and that is your work,not mine.
But here the door opened and a boy brought in a line which had been left at the desk.It related to the very matter then engaging them,and ran thus:
"I see that information is desired as to whether any person was seen to stoop to the lobby floor last night at or shortly after the critical moment of Miss Challoner's fall in the half story above.I can give such information.I was in the lobby at the time,and in the height of the confusion following this alarming incident,I remember seeing a lady,-one of the new arrivals (there were several coming in at the time)-stoop quickly down and pick up something from the floor.I thought nothing of it at the time,and so paid little attention to her appearance.I can only recall the suddenness with which she stooped and the colour of the cloak she wore.It was red,and the whole garment was voluminous.If you wish further particulars,though in truth,Ihave no more to give,you can find me in 356.
"HENRY A.MCELROY."
"Humph!This should simplify our task,"was Mr.Gryce's comment,as he handed the note over to Sweetwater."You can easily find out if the lady,now on the point of departure,can be identified with the one described by Mr.McElroy.If she can,I am ready to meet her anywhere.""Here goes then!"cried Sweetwater,and quickly left the room.
When he returned,it was not with his most hopeful air.
"The cloak doesn't help,"he declared."No one remembers the cloak.
But the time of Mrs.Watkins'arrival was all right.She came in directly on the heels of this catastrophe.""She did!Sweetwater,I will see her.Manage it for me at once.""The clerk says that it had better be upstairs.She is a very sensitive woman.There might be a scene,if she were intercepted on her way out.""Very well."But the look which the old detective threw at his bandaged legs was not without its pathos.
