Part 23 (1/2)

But he kept to his conjecturing.

He had many interruptions. Newspaper reporters, instantly impressed by the dramatic possibilities, the inherent sensationalism, of the murder, flocked to him. Referred to him by the people at Sloanehurst, they asked for not only his narration of what had occurred but also for his opinion as to the probability of running down the guilty man.

He would make no predictions, he told them, confining himself to a simple statement of facts. When one young sleuth suggested that both Sloane and Webster feared arrest on the charge of murder and had relied on his reputation to prevent prompt action against them by the sheriff, the old man laughed. He knew the futility of trying to prevent publication of intimations of that sort.

But he took advantage of the opportunity to put a different interpretation on his employment by the Sloanes.

”Seems to me,” he contributed, ”it's more logical to say that their calling in a detective goes a long way to show their innocence of all connection with the crime. They wouldn't pay out real money to have themselves hunted, if they were guilty, would they?”

Afterwards, he was glad he had emphasized this point. In the light of subsequent events, it looked like actual foresight of Mrs. Brace's tactics.

Soon after five Hendricks came in, to report. He was a young man, stockily built, with eyes that were always on the verge of laughter and lips that sloped inward as if biting down on the threatened mirth. The shape of his lips was symbolical of his habit of discourse; he was of few words.

”Webster,” he said, standing across the table from his employer and shooting out his words like a memorized speech, ”been overplaying his hand financially. That's the rumour; nothing tangible yet. Gone into real estate and building projects; a.s.sociated with a crowd that has the name of operating on a shoestring. n.o.body'd be surprised if they all blew up.”

”As a real-estate man, I take it,” Hastings commented, slowly shaving off thin slivers of chips from his piece of pine, ”he's a brilliant young lawyer. That's it?”

”Yes, sir,” Hendricks agreed, the slope of his lips accentuated.

”Keep after that, tomorrow.--What about Mrs. Brace?”

”Dest.i.tute, practically; in debt; threatened with eviction; no resources.”

”So money, lack of it, is bothering her as well as Webster!--How much is she in debt?”

”Enough to be denied all credit by the stores; between five and seven hundred, I should say. That's about the top mark for that cla.s.s of trade.”

”All right, Hendricks; thanks,” the old man commended warmly. ”That's great work, for Sunday.--Now, Russell's room?”

”Yes, sir; I went over it.”

”Find any steel on the floor?”

Hendricks took from his pocket a little paper parcel about the size of a man's thumb.

”Not sure, sir. Here's what I got.”

He unfolded the paper and put it down on the table, displaying a small ma.s.s of what looked like dust and lint.

”Wonderful what a magnet will pick up, ain't it?” mused his employer: ”I got the same sort of stuff at Sloanehurst this morning.--I'll go over this, look for the steel particles, right away.”

”Anything else, sir--special?”

The a.s.sistant was already half-way to the door. He knew that a floor an inch deep in chips from his employer's whittling indicated laborious mental gropings by the old man. It was no time for superfluous words.

”After dinner,” Hastings instructed, ”relieve Gore--at the Walman.

Thanks.”

As Hendricks went out, there was another telephone call, this time from Crown, to make amends for coolness he had shown Hastings at Sloanehurst.