The Greatest Works of Anna Katharine Green. Анна Грин

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ not to allow myself to become flurried by disappointment nor discouraged by premature failure. My business was to save Eleanore Leavenworth; and to do that, it was necessary for me to preserve, not only my equanimity, but my self-possession. The worst fear I anticipated was that matters would reach a crisis before I could acquire the right, or obtain the opportunity, to interfere. However, the fact of Mr. Leavenworth’s funeral being announced for that day gave me some comfort in that direction; my knowledge of Mr. Gryce being sufficient, as I thought, to warrant me in believing he would wait till after that ceremony before proceeding to extreme measures.

      I do not know that I had any very definite ideas of what a detective’s home should be; but when I stood before the neat three-story brick house to which I had been directed, I could not but acknowledge there was something in the aspect of its half-open shutters, over closely drawn curtains of spotless purity, highly suggestive of the character of its inmate.

      A pale-looking youth, with vivid locks of red hair hanging straight down over either ear, answered my rather nervous ring. To my inquiry as to whether Mr. Gryce was in, he gave a kind of snort which might have meant no, but which I took to mean yes.

      “My name is Raymond, and I wish to see him.”

      He gave me one glance that took in every detail of my person and apparel, and pointed to a door at the head of the stairs. Not waiting for further directions, I hastened up, knocked at the door he had designated, and went in. The broad back of Mr. Gryce, stooping above a desk that might have come over in the Mayflower, confronted me.

      “Well!” he exclaimed; “this is an honor.” And rising, he opened with a squeak and shut with a bang the door of an enormous stove that occupied the centre of the room. “Rather chilly day, eh?”

      “Yes,” I returned, eyeing him closely to see if he was in a communicative mood. “But I have had but little time to consider the state of the weather. My anxiety in regard to this murder——”

      “To be sure,” he interrupted, fixing his eyes upon the poker, though not with any hostile intention, I am sure. “A puzzling piece of business enough. But perhaps it is an open book to you. I see you have something to communicate.”

      “I have, though I doubt if it is of the nature you expect. Mr. Gryce, since I saw you last, my convictions upon a certain point have been strengthened into an absolute belief. The object of your suspicions is an innocent woman.”

      If I had expected him to betray any surprise at this, I was destined to be disappointed. “That is a very pleasing belief,” he observed. “I honor you for entertaining it, Mr. Raymond.”

      I suppressed a movement of anger. “So thoroughly is it mine,” I went on, in the determination to arouse him in some way, “that I have come here to-day to ask you in the name of justice and common humanity to suspend action in that direction till we can convince ourselves there is no truer scent to go upon.”

      But there was no more show of curiosity than before. “Indeed!” he cried; “that is a singular request to come from a man like you.”

      I was not to be discomposed, “Mr. Gryce,” I went on, “a woman’s name, once tarnished, remains so forever. Eleanore Leavenworth has too many noble traits to be thoughtlessly dealt with in so momentous a crisis. If you will give me your attention, I promise you shall not regret it.”

      He smiled, and allowed his eyes to roam from the poker to the arm of my chair. “Very well,” he remarked; “I hear you; say on.”

      I drew my notes from my pocketbook, and laid them on the table.

      “What! memoranda?” he exclaimed. “Unsafe, very; never put your plans on paper.”

      Taking no heed of the interruption, I went on.

      “Mr. Gryce, I have had fuller opportunities than yourself for studying this woman. I have seen her in a position which no guilty person could occupy, and I am assured, beyond all doubt, that not only her hands, but her heart, are pure from this crime. She may have some knowledge of its secrets; that I do not presume to deny. The key seen in her possession would refute me if I did. But what if she has? You can never wish to see so lovely a being brought to shame for withholding information which she evidently considers it her duty to keep back, when by a little patient finesse we may succeed in our purposes without it.”

      “But,” interposed the detective, “say this is so; how are we to arrive at the knowledge we want without following out the only clue which has yet been given us?”

      “You will never reach it by following out any clue given you by Eleanore Leavenworth.”

      His eyebrows lifted expressively, but he said nothing.

      “Miss Eleanore Leavenworth has been used by some one acquainted with her firmness, generosity, and perhaps love. Let us discover who possesses sufficient power over her to control her to this extent, and we find the man we seek.”

      “Humph!” came from Mr. Gryce’s compressed lips, and no more.

      Determined that he should speak, I waited.

      “You have, then, some one in your mind”; he remarked at last, almost flippantly.

      “I mention no names,” I returned. “All I want is further time.”

      “You are, then, intending to make a personal business of this matter?”

      “I am.”

      He gave a long, low whistle. “May I ask,” he inquired at length, “whether you expect to work entirely by yourself; or whether, if a suitable coadjutor were provided, you would disdain his assistance and slight his advice?”

      “I desire nothing more than to have you for my colleague.”

      The smile upon his face deepened ironically. “You must feel very sure of yourself!” said he.

      “I am very sure of Miss Leavenworth.”

      The reply seemed to please him. “Let us hear what you propose doing.”

      I did not immediately answer. The truth was, I had formed no plans.

      “It seems to me,” he continued, “that you have undertaken a rather difficult task for an amateur. Better leave it to me, Mr. Raymond; better leave it to me.”

      “I am sure,” I returned, “that nothing would please me better——”

      “Not,” he interrupted, “but that a word from you now and then would be welcome. I am not an egotist. I am open to suggestions: as, for instance, now, if you could conveniently inform me of all you have yourself seen and heard in regard to this matter, I should be most happy to listen.”

      Relieved to find him so amenable, I asked myself what I really had to tell; not so much that he would consider vital. However, it would not do to hesitate now.

      “Mr. Gryce,” said I, “I have but few facts to add to those already known to you. Indeed, I am more moved by convictions than facts. That Eleanore Leavenworth never committed this crime, I am assured. That, on the other hand, the real perpetrator is known to her, I am equally certain; and that for some reason she considers it a sacred duty to shield the assassin, even at the risk of her own safety, follows as a matter of course from the facts. Now, with СКАЧАТЬ