Part 9 (1/2)

”It is, as you say, half of an old poker,” he replied. ”It was used originally in the lower hall, and the lower end was burnt through, owing to its having been carelessly left in the fire one night. I gave it to the gardener. He wanted it to use as a stake in laying out his flower beds, and running the edges of the paths and roads while tr.i.m.m.i.n.g the turf. He had a long cord, and a wooden stake for the other end. It has been roughly ground to a point, as you see, so that it might be readily thrust into the earth. The last time I saw it, he was using it upon the pathways about the house.”

”Then it was not in the green room?” asked the Inspector in an aggrieved tone. He saw that his theory would already require some readjustments.

”Never, to my knowledge,” said Major Temple. ”There is no fireplace in that room, and it would have been of no use there.”

The Inspector closed the drawer with a slam. ”Then, if this was the weapon the murderer used,” he said, rather lamely, ”he must have taken it along with him. Let us have a look at the room.”

We all adjourned to the green room, which the detective unlocked, and the Inspector went over the ground, as McQuade and I had done before him, without discovering anything new. The dark-brown spot upon the green carpet, which marked the place where the murdered man's head had rested, was still plainly visible, a grewsome reminder of the terrible tragedy which had been enacted there, but all else seemed ordinary and commonplace enough. The dog seemed strangely oppressed by the surroundings and, after sniffing about nervously with a low whine, crawled under the bed and lay quiet. We spent but a few minutes in the room and were just on the point of leaving, when the maid rushed in and, calling Major Temple aside, addressed a few low words to him, apparently in great agitation, at the same time handing him a sealed envelope. The Major took it from her, pa.s.sed his hand nervously over his forehead, and turned to us. ”Gentlemen,” he said, in a frightened sort of a voice, ”Miss Temple cannot be found.”

We all turned toward him in intense surprise. ”What does this mean?”

asked the Inspector. ”Where is she?”

”She has disappeared,” replied the Major, as we hurriedly left the room, McQuade locking the door carefully after him. ”Her maid tells me that she has searched everywhere for her, and she cannot be found. This note, addressed to me, was lying upon her writing desk.”

”Read it,” commanded the Inspector, as we all hastily adjourned to the library.

Major Temple opened the letter with trembling fingers. My own agitation at this new development was equally great.

He glanced hurriedly through its contents, his face ashen, his lips blue, then read aloud as follows:

”_My Dear Father:_

”I am going to London to see Mr. Morgan. They suspect him of the murder. I overheard the police talking about it this morning. I do not know what to do. I cannot let an innocent person suffer. It may be better for me to remain away altogether. If I must speak I can only ask for forgiveness.

”MURIEL.”

If the earth had opened up and engulfed me, I could not have been more astounded than I was when Major Temple finished reading this strange letter. What on earth had she gone to London to see me for? The poor girl, I felt sure, was laboring under some terrible misapprehension. I, for one, had no fear of anything she could say. I glanced at her father.

He seemed shrunken and old, his head bowed upon his breast. Could he--?

I refused to think. Yet he either feared for himself, or--G.o.d help me!--for her. No other emotion, no consideration for anyone else, could have so terribly affected him. The note plainly enough meant that Miss Temple knew who had murdered Mr. Ashton, and she knew that it was not I.

But would the police so regard it? I looked at the cold, accusing faces of the two Scotland Yard men and groaned inwardly. In a moment the Inspector spoke. ”Have you a telephone in the house, Major Temple?” he asked.

”Yes,” answered the Major, rousing himself from his lethargy. ”In the hall, near the foot of the staircase.”

The Inspector nodded to McQuade, who arose without a word and left the room. I knew that Muriel had not yet had time to reach London, that, when she did so, it would be to step into the arms of an officer. The net was fast closing about someone, but about whom I could not yet see.

I was lost in a maze of conflicting thoughts.

”Mr. Morgan, have you anything to say in explanation of this letter?” I heard Major Temple asking me. His voice came to me as from afar off. I looked up and shook off my growing fears.

”Miss Temple writes as though she believed you would understand what she means,” I replied. ”I certainly do not.”

”I!” cried the Major. ”It's absolute nonsense to me. Why should she want to see you, unless you understood something between you? What does she know, that she should speak, and for what does she seek for forgiveness?” He threw up his hands in absolute dismay. If this were acting, I thought, it could not be better done by the most renowned actor on the boards.

”You remember, Major Temple, that your daughter refused to tell what it was she saw, or what happened, that caused her to return to the house so suddenly that morning. I advised her to speak--she refused. Had she come to me to-night, I should have given her the same advice as before.

Nothing that she can say would harm me.”

”Nor me,” retorted Major Temple.

”Then whom, in Heaven's name?” I cried, speaking my thoughts aloud.