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But Bat Scanlon was not listening; he had snatched up one of the newspapers. In staring head-lines he was reading:
MYSTERIOUSLY STRUCK DOWN
Strange Deed at Stanwick!
Tom Burton, Well-Known Man About Town, the Victim.
Police Are Puzzled!
In the body of the type the hurried details of the crime were given—or as many of them as the journal had been able to gather before going to press.
Stanwick was a new suburb on a branch line; and some time after midnight a policeman, Colby by name, had been patrolling his beat, which was along Duncan Street. A girl in the dress of a nurse, and much frightened, rushed up to him, and in great agitation announced that there was a man lying dead on the floor at 620. Colby, startled and excited, accompanied the girl to the house indicated, and there found the body of Thomas Burton, a "well-known clubman,"stretched out upon the floor of the sitting-room—dead—and with a frightful wound in the head.
"The house is occupied by Frank Burton, the cartoonist for the Morning Standard, and his sister Mary, who has been an invalid for some years. These are the son and daughter of the dead man. They say they had not, up to last night, seen their father for a long time; his visit was a surprise and not at all a welcome one, it would appear, as they had not been upon good terms. According to the story told by young Burton, he and his sister left the room in which their father sat; when the young man returned, he found his father dead, as stated."
Paper after paper was feverishly scanned by Bat, but they merely repeated the few, bare facts. Ashton-Kirk had turned from the window and was watching the big trainer in some surprise.
"It's a pretty hard pull for a man when he's talked comfortably with a friend, and said 'good-bye' to him, and, then, the next thing he hears, is that he's been outrageously murdered."Dennison seemed unable to rid his mind of this overpowering fact. "It was then I started to go under; it was just as if somebody had struck me under the heart, and I caved right in."
Here there came a sudden bustle from the office, the closing of doors, the dragging of a chair across the floor. Then the voice of Danny came squeakingly.
"Mr. Scanlon! Wanted in the office!"
"Right,"said Bat, promptly. Then, to Ashton-Kirk, he added: "Stick around for a little, will you? I may have something to tell you."
And then, with hurried steps, he vanished into the adjoining room.
CHAPTER II
BAT SCANLON IS SURPRISED
In the office, Bat Scanlon felt himself suddenly clutched by a creature who seemed at first to be all rich silks, soft furs, dazzling complexion and delicate perfume; but an instant later this impression failed; for he knew that she was all eyes—great, brown, intelligent eyes—and a voice which made one's heart tremble when she spoke.
"Oh, Bat, I'm glad you're in this big, cold city this morning,"said the voice, gratefully, while the long lashes held two great perilous tears. "If you hadn't been, I don't know what I should have done."
"Danny,"said Bat to the red-haired boy, "go sweep up, or something."
"Yes, sir,"replied Danny, promptly, and was gone.
Mr. Scanlon then saw that his unusual visitor was settled comfortably in a big, wide-armed chair, and he took a seat opposite her.
"I don't wonder that you're feeling so,"said he. "It's a sudden kind of thing, isn't it? And do you know,"there was an apologetic note in his voice, "this is the first morning I missed looking over the paper for months. When you had me on the telephone a while ago I knew nothing at all about the matter."
The girl shivered a little and drew her cloak around her shoulders.
"As soon as I heard of it, I knew what was to happen,"she said, a trifle bitterly. "Nora Cavanaugh, celebrity, was to be dragged further into the light. Nora Cavanaugh, who had just opened in a successful play—the woman whose pictures were in all the magazines—was the wife of the murdered man! Instantly the police, who would be much better employed seeking a solution of the crime, must hunt out and torment me with their questions; the newspapers must suddenly go mad with a desire to exploit my years of work and my personality as a background for a sordid crime. My press agent, my manager, are quivering with anxiety that no shred of publicity be lost. My very maid is subtly suggestive as to ways in which value could be gained from the circumstances."
"Too bad!"said Bat "It's a pretty messy kind of a job. But it's the regular thing. They are not picking specially on you."He sat looking at her for a moment in silence. Then he added: "Anyhow, in spite of all this, there is one thing you might be thankful for, isn't there?"
She drew in a long breath; her hands clasped tightly, and for a moment her eyes were closed.
"You mean that Tom Burton is dead?"she whispered.
"Yes,"said the man.
Again there was a silence, and this time it was broken by the girl.
"I have never thought of him as dying,"she said, and there was something like wonder in her voice. "He had gradually become settled in my mind as a sort of incubus—I felt that I was to see him always, smiling, immaculate and unscrupulous—a sort of beast with whom cleanliness took the place of a soul."
"You should have divorced him,"said Bat. "It would have been the easiest way."
She shivered.
"He knew I would never do that,"she answered. "He knew I was forever set against any such thing. My religion is against it; then,"she gave a little gesture of loathing, "the actress and the divorce court had become associated in common jest; and I made up my mind that I would not add to its truth."
"He knew that, and he took advantage of it,"said Bat.
"Was there anything that promised him a profit that Tom Burton did not take advantage of?"Her glorious eyes flashed and her head, superbly crowned with masses of bronze hair, was reared, the round, beautifully moulded chin was held high with scorn. "Was there anything, no matter how mean, that he wouldn't stoop to, so long as it enabled him to coddle his vices and go on in his idle way of life?"
Bat sat looking at the wonderfully beautiful and splendidly spirited creature; and he found himself wondering what had ever led her into a marriage with a man such as the one she had just described. And, as though in answer to his thought, she went on:
"But he had a way with him; his only study in life, so he told me once, had been women; and he knew how to get the better of them. When I first met him I was playing in a middle western city in a stock company which gave two performances a day and paid a fairly respectable salary. It was the first good engagement I'd ever had; the following of the theatre liked me and I began to be talked about; the east, and the creating of important parts did not seem so impossible as they had only a little while before.
"Maybe he heard some whisper of this; I don't СКАЧАТЬ