The Gold Bag Part 21

After spending an evening in thinking over the situation and piecing together my clues, I decided that the next thing to be done was to trace up that transfer. If I could fasten that upon Gregory Hall, it would indeed be a starting point to work from. Although this seemed to eliminate Mrs. Purvis, who had already become a living ent.i.ty in my mind, I still had haunting suspicions of Hall; and then, too, there was a possibility of collusion between these two. It might be fanciful, but if Hall and the Purvis woman were both implicated, Hall was quite enough a clever villain to treat the photograph lightly as he had done.

And so the next morning, I started for the office of the trolley car company.

I learned without difficulty that the transfer I had found, must have been given to some pa.s.senger the night of Mr. Crawford's death, but was not used. It had been issued after nine o'clock in the evening, somewhere on the line between New York and West Sedgwick. It was a transfer which ent.i.tled a pa.s.senger on that line to a trip on the branch line running through West Sedgwick, and the fact that it had not been used, implied either a negligent conductor or a decision on the part of the pa.s.senger not to take his intended ride.

All this was plausible, though a far from definite indication that Hall might have come out from New York by trolley, or part way by trolley, and though accepting a transfer on the West Sedgwick branch, had concluded not to use it. But the whole theory pointed equally as well to Mrs. Purvis, or indeed to the unknown intruder insisted upon by so many.

I endeavored to learn something from certain conductors who brought their cars into West Sedgwick late at night, but it seemed they carried a great many pa.s.sengers and of course could not identify a transfer, of which scores of duplicates had been issued.

Without much hope I interviewed the conductors of the West Sedgwick Branch Line. Though I could learn nothing definite, I fell into conversation with one of them, a young Irishman, who was interested because of my connection with the mystery.

"No, sir," he said, "I can't tell you anythin' about a stray transfer.

But one thing I can tell you. That 'ere murder was committed of a Toosday night, wasn't it?"

"Yes," I returned.

"Well, that 'ere parlyvoo vally of Mr. Crawford's, he's rid, on my car 'most every Toosday night fer weeks and weeks. It's his night off. And last Toosday night he didn't ride with me. Now I don't know's that means anything, but agin it might."

It didn't seem to me that it meant much, for certainly Louis was not under the slightest suspicion. And yet as I came to think about it, if that had been Louis's transfer and if he had dropped it near the office veranda, he had lied when he said that he went round the other side of the house to reach the back entrance.

It was all very vague, but it narrowed itself down to the point that if that were Louis's transfer it could be proved; and if not it must be investigated further. For a trolley transfer, issued at a definite hour, and dropped just outside the scene of the crime was certainly a clue of importance.

I proceeded to the Crawford house, and though I intended to have a talk with Louis later, I asked first for Miss Lloyd. Surely, if I were to carry on my investigation of the case, in her interests, I must have a talk with her. I had not intruded before, but now that the funeral was over, the real work of tracking the criminal must be commenced, and as one of the princ.i.p.al characters in the sad drama, Miss Lloyd must play her part.

Until I found myself in her presence I had not actually realized how much I wanted this interview.

I was sure that what she said, her manner and her facial expression, must either blot out or strengthen whatever shreds of suspicion I held against her.

"Miss Lloyd," I began, "I am, as you know, a detective; and I am here in Sedgwick for the purpose of discovering the cowardly a.s.sa.s.sin of your uncle. I a.s.sume that you wish to aid me in any way you can. Am I right in this?"

Instead of the unhesitating affirmative I had expected, the girl spoke irresolutely. "Yes," she said, "but I fear I cannot help you, as I know nothing about it."

The fact that this reply did not sound to me as a rebuff, for which it was doubtless intended, I can only account for by my growing appreciation of her wonderful beauty.

Instead of funereal black, Miss Lloyd was clad all in white, and her simple wool gown gave her a statuesque appearance; which, however, was contradicted by the pathetic weariness in her face and the sad droop of her lovely mouth. Her helplessness appealed to me, and, though she a.s.sumed an air of composure, I well knew it was only a.s.sumed, and that with some difficulty.

Resolving to make it as easy as possible for her, I did not ask her to repeat the main facts, which I already knew.

"Then, Miss Lloyd," I said, in response to her disclaimer, "if you cannot help me, perhaps I can help you. I have reason to think that possibly Louis, your late uncle's valet, did not tell the truth in his testimony at the coroner's inquest. I have reason to think that instead of going around the house to the back entrance as he described, he went around the other side, thus pa.s.sing your uncle's office."

To my surprise this information affected Miss Lloyd much more seriously than I supposed it would.

"What?" she said, and her voice was a frightened whisper. "What time did he come home?"

"I don't know," I replied; "but you surely don't suspect Louis of anything wrong. I was merely hoping, that if he did pa.s.s the office he might have looked in, and so could tell us of your uncle's well-being at that time."

"At what time?"

"At whatever time he returned home. Presumably rather late. But since you are interested in the matter, will you not call Louis and let us question him together?"

The girl fairly shuddered at this suggestion. She hesitated, and for a moment was unable to speak. Of course this behavior on her part filled my soul with awful apprehension. Could it be possible that she and Louis were in collusion, and that she dreaded the Frenchman's disclosures? I remembered the strange looks he had cast at her while being questioned by the coroner. I remembered his vehement denial of having pa.s.sed the office that evening,--too vehement, it now seemed to me. However, if I were to learn anything damaging to Florence Lloyd's integrity, I would rather learn it now, in her presence, than elsewhere. So I again asked her to send for the valet.

With a despairing look, as of one forced to meet an impending fate, she rose, crossed the room and rang a bell. Then she returned to her seat and said quietly, "You may ask the man such questions as you wish, Mr.

Burroughs, but I beg you will not include me in the conversation."

"Not unless it should be necessary," I replied coldly, for I did not at all like her making this stipulation. To me it savored of a sort of cowardice, or at least a presumption on my own chivalry.

When the man appeared, I saw at a glance he was quite as much agitated as Miss Lloyd. There was no longer a possibility of a doubt that these two knew something, had some secret in common, which bore directly on the case, and which must be exposed. A sudden hope flashed into my mind that it might be only some trifling secret, which seemed of importance to them, but which was merely a side issue of the great question.

I considered myself justified in taking advantage of the man's perturbation, and without preliminary speech I drew the transfer from my pocket and fairly flashed it in his face.

"Louis," I said sternly, "you dropped this transfer when you came home the night of Mr. Crawford's death."

The suddenness of my remark had the effect I desired, and fairly frightened the truth out of the man.

"Y-yes, sir," he stammered, and then with a frightened glance at Miss Lloyd, he stood nervously interlacing his fingers.

I glanced at Miss Lloyd myself, but she had regained entire self-possession, and sat looking straight before her with an air that seemed to say, "Go on, I'm prepared for the worst."

As I paused myself to contemplate the att.i.tudes of the two, I lost my ground of vantage, for when I again spoke to the man, he too was more composed and ready to reply with caution. Doubtless he was influenced by Miss Lloyd's demeanor, for he imitatively a.s.sumed a receptive air.

"Where did you get the transfer?" I went on.

"On the trolley, sir; the main line."

"To be used on the Branch Line through West Sedgwick?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why did you not use it?"

"As I tell you, sir, and as I tell monsieur, the coroner, I have spend that evening with a young lady. We went for a trolley ride, and as we returned I take a transfer for myself, but not for her, as she live near where we alight."

"Oh, you left the main line and took the young lady home, intending then yourself to come by trolley through West Sedgwick?"

"Yes, sir; it was just that way."

At this point Louis seemed to forget his embarra.s.sment, his gaze strayed away, and a happy expression came into his eyes. I felt sure I was reading his volatile French nature aright, when I a.s.sumed his mind had turned back to the pleasant evening he had spent with his young lady acquaintance. Somehow this went far to convince me of the fellow's innocence for it was quite evident the murder and its mystery were not uppermost in his thoughts at that moment. But my next question brought him beck to realization of the present situation.

"And why didn't you use your transfer?"

"Only that the night, he was so pleasant, I desired to walk."

"And so you walked through the village, holding, perhaps, the transfer in your hand?"

"I think, yes; but I do not remember the transfer in my hand, though he may have been there."

And now the man's unquiet had returned. His lips twitched and his dark eyes rolled about, as he endeavored in vain to look anywhere but at Miss Lloyd. She, too, was controlling herself by a visible effort.