Part 29 (2/2)

”Right!” he said, clapping his hands together. ”Sloane's no dying man, is he? And he knows the whole story. Right you are, Mrs. Brace! He can shake and tremble and whine all he pleases, but tonight he's my meat--my meat, right! Talk? You bet he'll talk!”

She considered, looking at the opposite wall. He was convinced that she examined the project, viewing it from the standpoint of his interest, seeking possible dangers of failure. Nevertheless, he hurried her decision.

”It's the thing to do, isn't it?”

”I should think so,” she said at last. ”You, with your mental forcefulness, your ability as a questioner--why, I don't see how you can fail to get at what he knows. Beside, you have the element of surprise on your side. That will go far toward sweeping him off his feet.”

He was again conscious of his debt of grat.i.tude to this woman, and tried to voice it.

”This is the first time,” he declared, big with confidence, ”I've felt that I had the right end of this case.”

When she had closed the door on him, she went back to the living room and set back in its customary place the chair he had occupied. Her own was where it always belonged. From there she went into the bathroom and, as Hastings had seen her do before, drew a gla.s.s of water which she drank slowly.

Then, examining her hard, smooth face in the bedroom mirror, she said aloud:

”Pretty soon, now, somebody will talk business--with me.”

There was no elation in her voice. But her lips were, for a moment, thick and wet, changing her countenance into a picture of inordinate greed.

XV

IN ARTHUR SLOANE'S ROOM

Hastings went back to Sloanehurst that evening for another and more forceful attempt to argue Arthur Sloane into frankness. Like Mrs. Brace, he could not get away from the definite conclusion that Lucille's father was silent from fear of telling what he knew. Moreover, he realized that, without a closer connection with Sloane, his own handling of the case was seriously impeded.

Lucille was on the front porch, evidently waiting for him, although he had not notified her in advance of his visit. She went hurriedly down the steps and met him on the walk. When he began an apology for having to annoy her so frequently, she cut short his excuses.

”Oh, but I'm glad you're here--so glad! We need your help. The sheriff's here.”

She put her hand on his coat sleeve; he could feel the tremour of it as she pulled, unconsciously, on the cloth. She turned toward the verandah steps.

”What's he doing?” he asked, detaining her.

”He's in father's room,” she said in feverish haste, ”asking him all sorts of questions, saying ridiculous things. Really, I'm afraid--for father's health! Can't you go in now?”

”Couldn't Judge Wilton manage him? Isn't the judge here?”

”No. He came over at dinner time; but he went back to the Randalls'.

Father didn't feel up to talking to him.”

Crown, she explained, had literally forced his way into the bedroom, disregarding her protests and paying no attention to the pretence of physical resistance displayed by Jarvis.

”The man seems insane!” she said. ”I want you to make him leave father's room--please!”

She halted near the library door, leaving the matter in Hastings' hands.

Since entering the house he had heard Crown's voice, raised to the key of altercation; and now, when he stepped into Sloane's room, the rush of words continued.

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