The Gold Bag Part 20

This was a generous speech on the part of Philip Crawford. To be sure, generosity of speech couldn't affect the disposal of the estate. If no will were found, it must by law go to the brother, but none the less the hearty, whole-souled way in which he spoke of Miss Lloyd was greatly to his credit as a man.

"I think so, too," agreed Mr. Porter. "As you know, I called on Mr.

Joseph Crawford during the--the last evening of his life."

The speaker paused, and indeed it must have been a sad remembrance that pictured itself to his mind.

"Did he then refer to the matter of the will?" asked Mr. Randolph, in gentle tones.

"He did. Little was said on the subject, but he told me that unless Florence consented to his wishes in the matter of her engagement to Mr.

Hall, he would make a new will, leaving her only a small bequest."

"In what manner did you respond, Mr. Porter?"

"I didn't presume to advise him definitely, but I urged him not to be too hard on the girl, and, at any rate, not to make a new will until he had thought it over more deliberately."

"What did he then say?"

"Nothing of any definite import. He began talking of other matters, and the will was not again referred to. But I can't help thinking he had not destroyed it."

At this, Miss Lloyd seemed about to speak, but, glancing at Gregory Hall, she gave a little sigh, and remained silent.

"You know of nothing that can throw any light on the matter of the will, Mr. Hall?" asked Mr. Randolph.

"No, sir. Of course this whole situation is very embarra.s.sing for me.

I can only say that I have known for a long time the terms of Mr.

Crawford's existing will; I have known of his threats of changing it; I have known of his att.i.tude toward my engagement to his niece. But I never spoke to him on any of these subjects, nor he to me, though several times I have thought he was on the point of doing so. I have had access to most of his private papers, but of two or three small boxes he always retained the keys. I had no curiosity concerning the contents of these boxes, but I naturally a.s.sumed his will was in one of them. I have, however, opened these boxes since Mr. Crawford's death, in company with Mr. Randolph, and we found no will. Nor could we discover any in the New York office or in the bank. That is all I know of the matter."

Gregory Hall's demeanor was dignified and calm, his voice even and, indeed, cold. He was like a bystander, with no vital interest in the subject he talked about.

Knowing, as I did, that his interest was vital, I came to the conclusion that he was a man of unusual self-control, and an ability to mask his real feelings completely. Feeling that nothing more could be learned at present, I left the group in the library discussing the loss of the will, and went down to the district attorney's office.

He was, of course, surprised at my news, and agreed with me that it gave us new fields for conjecture.

"Now, we see," he said eagerly, "that the motive for the murder was the theft of the will."

"Not necessarily," I replied. "Mr. Crawford may have destroyed the will before he met his death."

"But that would leave no motive. No, the will supplies the motive. Now, you see, this frees Miss Lloyd from suspicion. She would have no reason to kill her uncle and then destroy or suppress a will in her own favor."

"That reasoning also frees Mr. Hall from suspicion," said I, reverting to my former theories.

"Yes, it does. We must look for the one who has benefited by the removal of the will. That, of course, would be the brother, Mr. Philip Crawford."

I looked at the attorney a moment, and then burst into laughter.

"My dear Mr. Goodrich," I said, "don't be absurd! A man would hardly shoot his own brother, but aside from that, why should Philip Crawford kill Joseph just at the moment he is about to make a new will in Philip's favor? Either the destruction of the old will or the drawing of the new would result in Philip's falling heir to the fortune. So he would hardly precipitate matters by a criminal act. And, too, if he had been keen about the money, he could have urged his brother to disinherit Florence Lloyd, and Joseph would have willingly done so. He was on the very point of doing so, any way."

"That's true," said Mr. Goodrich, looking chagrined but unconvinced.

"However, it frees Miss Lloyd from all doubts, by removing her motive.

As you say, she wouldn't suppress a will in her favor, and thereby turn the fortune over to Philip. And, as you also said, this lets Gregory Hall out, too, though I never suspected him for a moment. But, of course, his interests and Miss Lloyd's are identical."

"Wait a moment," I said, for new thoughts were rapidly following one another through my brain. "Not so fast, Mr. District Attorney. The disappearance of the will does not remove motive from the possibility of Miss Lloyd's complicity in this crime--or Mr. Hall's either."

"How so?"

"Because, if Florence Lloyd thought her uncle was in possession of that will, her motive was identically the same as if he had possessed it.

Now, she certainly thought he had it, for her surprise at the news of its loss was as unfeigned as my own. And of course Hall thought the will was among Mr. Crawford's effects, for he has been searching constantly since the question was raised."

"But I thought that yesterday you were so sure of Miss Lloyd's innocence," objected Mr. Goodrich.

"I was," I said slowly, "and I think I am still. But in the light of absolute evidence I am only declaring that the non-appearance of that will in no way interferes with the motive Miss Lloyd must have had if she is in any way guilty. She knew, or thought she knew, that the will was there, in her favor. She knew her uncle intended to revoke it and make another in her disfavor. I do not accuse her--I'm not sure I suspect her--I only say she had motive and opportunity."

As I walked away from Mr. Goodrich's office, those words rang in my mind, motive and opportunity. Truly they applied to Mr. Hall as well as to Miss Lloyd, although of course it would mean Hall's coming out from the city and returning during the night. And though this might have been a difficult thing to do secretly, it was by no means impossible. He might not have come all the way to West Sedgwick Station, but might have dropped off the train earlier and taken the trolley. The trolley! that thought reminded me of the transfer I had picked up on the gra.s.s plot near the office veranda. Was it possible that slip of paper was a clue, and pointing toward Hall?

Without definite hope of seeing Gregory Hall, but hopeful of learning something about him, I strolled back to the Crawford house. I went directly to the office, and by good luck found Gregory Hall there alone.

He was still searching among the papers of Mr. Crawford's desk.

"Ah, Mr. Burroughs," he said, as I entered, "I'm glad to see you. If detectives detect, you have a fine chance here to do a bit of good work.

I wouldn't mind offering you an honorarium myself, if you could unearth the will that has so mysteriously disappeared."

Hall's whole manner had changed. He had laid aside entirely the grave demeanor which he had shown at the funeral, and was again the alert business man. He was more than this. He was eager,--offensively so,--in his search for the will. It needed no detective instinct to see that the fortune of Joseph Crawford and its bestowment were matters of vital interest to him.

But though his personal feelings on the subject might be distasteful to me, it was certainly part of my duty to aid in the search, and so with him I looked through the various drawers and filing cabinets. The papers representing or connected with the financial interests of the late millionaire were neatly filed and labelled; but in some parts of the desk we found the hodge-podge of personal odds and ends which acc.u.mulates with nearly everybody.

Hall seemed little interested in those, but to my mind they showed a possibility of casting some light on Mr. Crawford's personal affairs.

But among old letters, photographs, programs, newspaper clippings, and such things, there was nothing that seemed of the slightest interest, until at last I chanced upon a photograph that arrested my attention.

"Do you know who this is?" I inquired.

"No," returned Hall, with a careless glance at it; "a friend of Mr.

Crawford's, I suppose."

"More than a friend, I should judge," and I turned the back of the picture toward him. Across it was written, "with loving Christmas greetings, from M.S.P."; and it was dated as recently as the Christmas previous.

"Well," said Hall, "Mr. Crawford may have had a lady friend who cared enough about him to send an affectionate greeting, but I never heard of her before, and I doubt if she is in any way responsible for the disappearance of this will."

He went on searching through the desks, giving no serious heed to the photograph. But to me it seemed important. I alone knew of the visiting card in the gold bag. I alone knew that that bag belonged to a lady named Purvis. And here was a photograph initialed by a lady whose surname began with P, and who was unmistakably on affectionate terms with Mr. Crawford. To my mind the links began to form a chain; the lady who had sent her photograph at Christmas, and who had left her gold bag in Mr. Crawford's office the night he was killed, surely was a lady to be questioned.

But I had not yet had a reply to my telegram to headquarters, so I said nothing to Hall on this subject, and putting the photograph in my pocket continued to a.s.sist him to look for the will, but without success.

However, the discovery of the photograph had in a measure diverted my suspicions from Gregory Hall; and though I endeavored to draw him into general conversation, I did not ask him any definite questions about himself.

But the more I talked with him, the more I disliked him: He not only showed a mercenary, fortune-hunting spirit, but he showed himself in many ways devoid of the finer feelings and chivalrous nature that ought to belong to the man about to marry such a perfect flower of womanhood as Florence Lloyd.

XI. LOUIS'S STORY