The Greatest Works of Anna Katharine Green. Анна Грин

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СКАЧАТЬ now to be found at Miss Althorpe’s house in Twenty-first Street.”

      As this was in a measure putting the matter into their hands, I saw them both grow impatient in their anxiety to see this girl for themselves. But I kept them for a few minutes longer while I related my discovery of the money in her shoes, and hinted at the explanation it afforded for her not changing those articles under the influence of the man who accompanied her.

      This was the last blow I dealt to the pride of Mr. Gryce. He quivered under it, but soon recovered, and was able to enjoy what he called another fine point in this remarkable case.

      But the acme of his delight was reached when I informed him of my ineffectual search for the rings, and my final conclusion that they had been wound up in the ball of yarn attached to her knitting-work.

      Whether his pleasure lay chiefly in the talent shown by Miss Oliver in her choice of a hiding-place for these jewels, or in the acumen displayed by myself in discovering it, I do not know; but he evinced an unbounded satisfaction in my words, crying aloud:

      “Beautiful! I don’t know of anything more interesting! We have not seen the like in years! I can almost congratulate myself upon my mistakes, the features of the case they have brought out are so fine!”

      But his satisfaction, great as it was, soon gave way to his anxiety to see this girl who, if not the criminal herself, was so important a factor in this great crime.

      I was anxious myself to have him see her, though I feared her condition was not such as to promise him any immediate enlightenment on the doubtful portions of this far from thoroughly mastered problem. And I bade him interview the Chinaman also, and Mrs. Desberger, and even Mrs. Boppert, for I did not wish him to take for granted anything I had said, though I saw he had lost his attitude of disdain and was inclined to accept my opinions quite seriously.

      He answered in quite an off-hand manner while the Inspector stood by, but when that gentleman had withdrawn towards the door, Mr. Gryce remarked with more earnestness than he had yet used:

      “You have saved me from committing a folly, Miss Butterworth. If I had arrested Franklin Van Burnam to-day, and to-morrow all these facts had come to light, I should never have held up my head again. As it is, there will be numerous insinuations uttered by men on the force, and many a whisper will go about that Gryce is getting old, that Gryce has seen his best days.”

      “Nonsense!” was my vigorous rejoinder. “You didn’t have the clue, that is all. Nor did I get it through any keenness on my part, but from the force of circumstances. Mrs. Boppert thought herself indebted to me, and so gave me her confidence. Your laurels are very safe yet. Besides, there is enough work left on this case to keep more than one great detective like you busy. While the Van Burnams have not been proved guilty, they are not so freed from suspicion that you can regard your task as completed. If Ruth Oliver committed this crime, which of these two brothers was involved in it with her? The facts seem to point towards Franklin, but not so unerringly that no doubt is possible on the subject.”

      “True, true. The mystery has deepened rather than cleared. Miss Butterworth, you will accompany me to Miss Althorpe’s.”

Chapter XXXIII.

       “Known, Known, All Known.”

       Table of Contents

      Mr. Gryce possesses one faculty for which I envy him, and that is his skill in the management of people. He had not been in Miss Althorpe’s house five minutes before he had won her confidence and had everything he wished at his command. I had to talk some time before getting so far, but he—a word and a look did it.

      Miss Oliver, for whom I hesitated to inquire, lest I should again find her gone or in a worse condition than when I left, was in reality better, and as we went up-stairs I allowed myself to hope that the questions which had so troubled us would soon be answered and the mystery ended.

      But Mr. Gryce evidently knew better, for when we reached her door he turned and said:

      “Our task will not be an easy one. Go in first and attract her attention so that I can enter unobserved. I wish to study her before addressing her; but, mind, no words about the murder; leave that to me.”

      I nodded, feeling that I was falling back into my own place; and knocking softly entered the room.

      A maid was sitting with her. Seeing me, she rose and advanced, saying:

      “Miss Oliver is sleeping.”

      “Then I will relieve you,” I returned, beckoning Mr. Gryce to come in.

      The girl left us and we two contemplated the sick woman silently. Presently I saw Mr. Gryce shake his head. But he did not tell me what he meant by it.

      Following the direction of his finger, I sat down in a chair at the head of the bed; he took his station at the side of it in a large arm-chair he saw there. As he did so I saw how fatherly and kind he really looked, and wondered if he was in the habit of so preparing himself to meet the eye of all the suspected criminals he encountered. The thought made me glance again her way. She lay like a statue, and her face, naturally round but now thinned out and hollow, looked up from the pillow in pitiful quiet, the long lashes accentuating the dark places under her eyes.

      A sad face, the saddest I ever saw and one of the most haunting.

      He seemed to find it so also, for his expression of benevolent interest deepened with every passing moment, till suddenly she stirred; then he gave me a warning glance, and stooping, took her by the wrist and pulled out his watch.

      She was deceived by the action. Opening her eyes, she surveyed him languidly for a moment, then heaving a great sigh, turned aside her head.

      “Don’t tell me I am better, doctor. I do not want to live.”

      The plaintive tone, the refined accent, seemed to astonish him. Laying down her hand, he answered gently:

      “I do not like to hear that from such young lips, but it assures me that I was correct in my first surmise, that it is not medicine you need but a friend. And I can be that friend if you will but allow me.”

      Moved, encouraged for the instant, she turned her head from side to side, probably to see if they were alone, and not observing me, answered softly:

      “You are very good, very thoughtful, doctor, but”—and here her despair returned again—“it is useless; you can do nothing for me.”

      “You think so,” remonstrated the old detective, “but you do not know me, child. Let me show you that I can be of benefit to you.” And he drew from his pocket a little package which he opened before her astonished eyes. “Yesterday, in your delirium, you left these rings in an office down-town. As they are valuable, I have brought them back to you. Wasn’t I right, my child?”

      “No! no!” She started up, and her accents betrayed terror and anguish, “I do not want them; I cannot bear to see them; they do not belong to me; they belong to them.”

      “To them? Whom do you mean by them?” queried Mr. Gryce, insinuatingly.

      “The—the Van Burnams. Is not that the name? Oh, do СКАЧАТЬ