Part 49 (1/2)
Murgatroyd proceeded to open his mail.
”Yes,” he mused, ”I have known it for almost five years--you must have known it, too.”
”Not until a few hours ago,” Challoner quickly informed him.
”You don't say so,” was Murgatroyd's answer; and presently he added: ”though perhaps it is not so very surprising.”
Challoner's eyes narrowed; his pulse was beating fast. Suddenly he said:--
”But somebody killed Hargraves--who did it?”
The prosecutor looked at the man incredulously.
”Do you mean to tell me, that though you know now that you didn't kill Hargraves--that you don't know who _did_ kill him?”
”I'm here to find out,” was Challoner's determined answer.
”Why thunderation!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Murgatroyd; and looking the other squarely in the eyes, went on: ”I knew that everybody didn't know, but I thought you knew long ago that it was Pemmican of Cradlebaugh's who did it.”
”Pemmican,” repeated Challoner, as if to himself, ”was the only man who knew, and he's dead.”
”Yes,” a.s.sented Murgatroyd, ”he killed himself in jail. He confessed just before the Court of Appeals filed its opinion of affirmance in your case. It was a game on his part, that murder. He had stolen ten thousand dollars from the management of Cradlebaugh's, and had been threatened with prosecution for it. It was necessary for him to replace the money.
The opportunity came and he seized it. He knew that there was bad blood between you and Hargraves; knew that there was a motive on your part; knew that you shot and missed; knew that Hargraves had a lot of money on his person, and he set out to get it. It was safe--he got it, and Hargraves, too--shot him dead with another gun,--after you missed him,--and paid back the money to Cradlebaugh's.”
Miriam could not restrain herself, and burst out:--
”And you have known this for years?”
”Yes,” he told her quietly, his eyes wandering over Miriam's face; ”but it's plain to me now that you haven't known it.”
”How should we?” protested Challoner.
Murgatroyd frowned, then he answered:--
”How? Because I advised your counsel, Thorne, and he was present when the order releasing you was signed. It was his duty, not mine, to communicate with you. I represented the people; he was the counsel for the defence.”
”Thorne--Thorne knew....” cried Miriam.
”Yes, Thorne knew....” admitted Murgatroyd.
”... and he never told us,” came finally from Challoner's lips.
”Possibly he didn't dare,” explained Murgatroyd, with an enigmatical smile. ”Just at that time, Thorne and Thorne's crowd held the public in the hollow of their hands. So perhaps,” he added sarcastically, ”the news about Pemmican was suppressed for the public good.”
”And you--” spoke up s.h.i.+rley, her eyes flas.h.i.+ng, but got no further, for Murgatroyd went on addressing Challoner.
”I had no trouble, then, of course, in setting you free.”
Challoner blinked stupidly at the prosecutor, but Miriam's face at once was wreathed in smiles; for she knew that their future happiness was a.s.sured--that the name of Challoner would be cleared of its stain.