The Diamond Cross Mystery Part 25

"h.e.l.lo," answered the sleuth.

"Some one out here to see you."

"All right--be there in a second. Excuse me," he murmured to the colonel. "Be back in a minute."

But it was in less time than that that he came returning on the run, and his face showed excitement.

"What's up?" asked Carroll.

"Singa Phut," was the panting answer. "Friend of mine just tipped me off where I can get him! See you later!" and, making sure that his blackjack and revolver were in his pockets, Donovan hurried out, followed by the colonel, whose hand had loosely closed over the ticking watch which, unseen, went out with him.

Later that night Singa Phut, a silent, shrinking and somewhat pathetic figure, slept in a cell at police headquarters. Donovan, on the information brought in by a stool-pigeon, had made the arrest and was jubilant thereat.

Colonel Ashley, with s.h.a.g at the proper distance in the background, and with Jay Kenneth as his invited guest, was sitting on the bank of a little stream, fishing; or, at any rate, he was somewhat idly using a rod and line to aid him in his thoughts.

Following his visit to police headquarters and his return to the hotel, he had called Kenneth on the telephone and arranged to spend a quiet day with him in the fields near the stream.

"I want to talk over Darcy's case with you," the colonel had said.

And the two had talked, had thought, had talked again, and now were silent for a time.

"What are the chances of getting him off legally if we go at it from a negative standpoint?" asked the colonel. "I mean, Mr. Kenneth, if we call upon the prosecution to make out their best case, which they can do only by circ.u.mstantial evidence, and then put our man on the stand, to deny everything, to have him tell about the noise in the night, about the curious sensation he experienced, about the possibility of chloroform, call witnesses as to his good character--and so on--what are the chances?"

"Rather a hypothetical question, Colonel, but I should say it might be a fifty-fifty proposition. At best he would get off with a Scotch verdict of 'not proven,' but he doesn't want that, nor do I. And you--"

"I don't want it, either. But I want to know just where we stand. Now I know. We've got to prove James Darcy innocent by establishing the fact that some one else killed his cousin."

"Exactly. And can it be done?"

"It can, and I'm going to do it. But I need to do a little more smoking-out first. Now I want to think. If you'll excuse me I'll pretend I'm fishing, and I may catch something. In fact, I have a feeling that I'll land my fish. And perhaps you have some other problems that may be clarified by a dallying along this stream. Ah, there's nothing like the philosophy of my friend Izaak Walton. I'd recommend him to you instead of Blackstone."

"Thanks!" laughed Kenneth. "I am not altogether unfamiliar with the Complete Angler. And you are right. I have a little problem on my hands."

"What is it? Perhaps I can help you. The old adage of two heads, you know--"

"Yes. It still holds good. Well, the question I am trying to solve is why did she say: 'No alimony!'"

"'No alimony'?" repeated the colonel, puzzled.

"Yes. Just that. As you may have guessed, it's a divorce case I have just finished, and so quietly that it hasn't become public property yet. When it does it will create a sensation."

"No alimony, eh? I suppose the lady--there is a lady in it, of course?" questioned the colonel.

"Of course--as is usual in a divorce case. And there's no reason you shouldn't know. It's Mrs. Larch, wife of Langford Larch, the wealthy hotel owner. She has just been granted, on my application before the vice chancellor, a separation from her husband, but she refused to accept alimony, and for the life of me, with all Larch's wealth, I can't see why. That's my problem, Colonel!"

CHAPTER XII

THE ODD COIN

Colonel Ashley fished for a time in silence, broken only by the gentle snores of s.h.a.g, farther back in the field, and by the murmur of the water. The old colored man, wrapped in a warm coat, for it was not summer yet, seemed to be enjoying his siesta when, with a suddenness that was startling in that solitude, the military detective uttered a cry of:

"I've got it!"

"What?" called Kenneth. "The solution to my problem?"

"No! My fish!" chuckled the colonel, as he skilfully played the luckless trout, now struggling to get loose from the hook.

And when the fish was landed, panting on the gra.s.s, and s.h.a.g had been roused from his slumber to slip the now limp fish into the creel, Colonel Ashley gave a sigh of relief and remarked:

"I think I see it now."

"The reason she asked no alimony?" inquired Kenneth.

"No. I wasn't thinking of that. But I have been gathering up some loose ends, and I think I know where to tie them together. However, don't think I'm not interested in your case. I've fished enough for to-day. Not that, ordinarily, I'm satisfied with one, but I'm not working the rod now. I am, as s.h.a.g calls it, 'detectin',' and I just came out here to clarify my thoughts. Having done that, I'm at your service, if I can help."

"Well, I don't know that you can. As I said, the facts of the separation of the Larchs will soon be heralded all over the city, for the final papers were filed to-day, and the reporters will be sure to see them. So there is no harm in my telling you about it. It's a plain and sordid story enough, with the exception of her refusal of alimony, and that I can't understand. Do you care to hear about it?"

"Certainly, my dear Kenneth."

"It has no connection with the Darcy murder, and so I didn't mention it to you before."

"Go on."

"It isn't generally known," went on the lawyer, "that the hotel keeper's wife has left him. She went away a short time ago, and came to me and told me her story. It was one of what at first might be called refined cruelty on her husband's part, degenerating gradually into that of the baser sort."

"You don't mean that Larch struck her--that there was physical abuse, do you?" asked the colonel.

"That's what he did. He seems to have been decent for a while after their marriage--which marriage was a mistake from the first--I can see that now. I used to know Cynthia when she was a girl--she was the daughter of Lodan Ratchford, and her mother had peculiar and, to my mind, wrong ideas of social position and money. Well, poor Cynthia is paying the penalty now. She was really forced into this marriage which, to say the least, must have been distasteful to her. But I don't suppose more than two or three know that."

The colonel did not disclose the fact that it was no news to him.

Aaron Grafton's statement was being unexpectedly confirmed. He remembered that Cynthia and Grafton had once been in love with each other.

"Well, when Cynthia came to me, in my capacity as lawyer as well as old friend, I could hardly believe what she told me about her husband,"

went on Kenneth. "She said he had struck her more than once, and she could stand it no longer.

"She wanted to apply for a divorce, but when I showed her that this would bring about much publicity, and necessitate taking testimony on both sides with possibly a long-dragged out case, she agreed merely to ask for a separation now, on the accusation of cruel and inhuman treatment. On those grounds I went before the vice chancellor, prepared to prove my case by competent witnesses. But they were not needed."

"Why not?"

"Because Larch made no defense. He let the case go by default, for which I was glad, as it saved Cynthia from telling her story in open court. Larch, by refusing to appear, practically admitted the charges against him and did not oppose the separation.

"Then came the matter of alimony, or, rather, I should call it separate maintenance, as it is not alimony until a divorce is granted, and that has not yet been done, though we may apply for that later.

"I was prepared to ask the vice chancellor for a pretty stiff annual sum for my client, for I know Larch is rich, when, to my surprise, she would not permit it. She said if she left him it was for good and all, and that she wanted none of his bounty. She had some means of her own, she declared, and would work rather than accept a cent from him.