"Have you made your report to Mrs. Burton?"
"Now, look!"exclaimed the big man. "Don't call her that! She was Burton's wife for one week, and that's the extent of her use of the name."
"Very well,"nodded Ashton-Kirk. "Cavanaugh is a good old name, and is sounded just as easily."
"Yes, I called on her after I got back,"said Bat. "But I had only a few minutes to talk to her; it was at the theatre, for she had a rehearsal to-day, you see."
"Was there anything new to tell her?"
Here Bat related to the investigator the details of what he had seen and heard at the Burton home; Ashton-Kirk listened attentively; now and then a pointed question came through the little clouds and rings of smoke with which he had surrounded himself, but, save for this, he made no interruption until Bat had finished.
"Dr. Shower, eh?"said he, after a little pause. "I'm rather well acquainted with his method, and the fact that he's been given charge of the coroner's examination isn't a very hopeful sign. He's a sort of pedant, who has come to think that the mixture of medical learning and knowledge of police conventions which he possesses makes him a paragon of efficiency."
"I noticed that he had a confident kind of a way with him,"said Bat.
"Confidence is an excellent thing,"spoke Ashton-Kirk. "A man does not go far without it. But the sort kept in stock by Dr. Shower is rather a hindrance. When he has once arrived at a conclusion, he shuts his eyes and stops his ears to everything else. Osborne, now, is different; while he's a plodding kind of a fellow with very little imagination, he's shrewd enough to accept advantages wherever he finds them."The speaker added another cloud to those already hovering about him. "Miss Cavanaugh was satisfied with what you told her, I suppose?"
But Bat shook his head, and a good part of the old troubled look returned.
"She wasn't. As a matter of fact I could see that it worried her. When I left her she was fidgeting; and if Nora does that, something's wrong. But the worst didn't happen until about a half hour ago. I was back at my place, and the 'phone bell rang. When I went to it I found it was Nora calling. And she was all excited once more."
"Ah!"said Ashton-Kirk, expectantly, "excited!"
"She started off by asking me to forgive her, and saying she must be a great bother to me. But something had happened—something that had scared her. As she came home from the theatre she heard the newsboys calling their papers on the street corners. She couldn't quite make out what they were saying, so she had the car stop and her driver get one of the papers. Then she got the facts of the matter. Young Frank Burton has been arrested for his father's murder."
"So!"said Ashton-Kirk. "I expected to hear that had happened. For, from what you've told me, the police have a fair tissue of evidence."
"That's about what I told Nora. But it bowled her over completely. Her voice began to shake and I knew she was crying."
"'But he didn't do it,' she says. 'He didn't do it. He's innocent—I know he is.'
"I tried to reason with her,"proceeded Bat. "But she wouldn't listen. She kept repeating that he was innocent—that he had suffered enough at that man's hands while he was alive, and that he mustn't go on suffering now that the father was dead."
"Well?"asked Ashton-Kirk, as the other paused; "what then?"
"Then,"said Scanlon, "she was on my neck to get him out of the thing. I must do it! I must not let them harm him! And all that kind of thing. She seems to think that I've got a heavy drag with the police, and all there is for me to do is to snap my fingers and they'll sit up and perform. I tried to persuade her that this was a dream; but I couldn't convince her. And the result was that I had to promise to see her right away."Bat looked dolefully at his friend. "I'm on my way there now,"he said, "and I thought I'd stop in and ask what I'd better do."
Ashton-Kirk arose and took a turn up and down the room; then throwing away the cigarette end, he paused in front of his friend and asked:
"What would you say if I suggested that I go with you?"
"Fine!"Scanlon jumped up, an expression of relief upon his face. "The very thing! Get your hat. My cab is still at the door. I couldn't have asked for anything better than that."
Within five minutes the two were on the street—a street lined with fine wide houses of a bygone time, but which was now a bedlam of throaty voices, a whirling current of alien people, a miasma of stale smells. The taxi soon whirled them out of this section and into another, equally old, but still clinging to its ancient state. The houses were square fronted and solid looking, built of black-headed brick and trimmed with white stone; there were marble carriage blocks and hitching-posts at the curb.
"I wonder how long before this will begin to go,"said the investigator, as they alighted. "There is scarcely an old residential street left unmarred in the big cities of the east."
"That is Nora's house—there with the scaffolding at the side. Take care you don't step in that mortar. These fellows seem to slap their stuff around and don't give a hang."
"I had no idea Miss Cavanaugh lived in this section,"said Ashton-Kirk, after Scanlon had rung the bell, and they stood waiting on the steps.
"Why, you see, she's different. Naturally, she's a housekeeper. The big hotel or the glittering apartment house doesn't appeal to her. She gets all that when she's on the road."
A trim maid admitted them and showed them into a room hung with beautiful tapestry and excellently selected paintings. In a few moments there came a light hasty step and Nora stood framed in the doorway. She wore a sort of soft, gauzy robe-like thing which clung to her magnificently strong, yet completely youthful figure, causing her more than ever to resemble a young Juno. The gleaming bronze hair was gathered in a great coil at the back of her head; her wonderfully modeled arms were bare; the right was clasped about with a heavy bracelet of what seemed raw, red gold.
"Bat!"she said, gladly, and then stopped short at sight of a stranger.
"This is Mr. Ashton-Kirk,"said Scanlon, presenting his companion. "You've heard me speak of him, I think."
Nora Cavanaugh held out her hand with that frankness which is always so fascinating in a beautiful woman.
"I am very glad to see you,"she said. "And I recall very well what I heard of you. It was that queer affair of the Campes, and the strange dangers which haunted the hills about their country place."Her eyes were fixed steadily upon Ashton-Kirk as she spoke; the smile of welcome was still in them; but behind this there was something else—a something which evidently interested Ashton-Kirk intensely.
"I've been telling Kirk of the thing at Stanwick,"spoke Scanlon, as they all three sat down at a west window, through which the lowering sun was throwing its crimsoning touch. "He's a little interested and thought he'd like to hear what you had to say."
The smile went completely out of Nora's eyes; the sombre thing at the back of them came at once to the surface; and Ashton-Kirk saw her hand, as she lifted it to her face, tremble.
"The police are fools!"she declared. "Frank Burton is innocent. It is shameful to attribute any crime to him—but to accuse him of the murder of his father"—here a shudder ran through her—"it's horrible!"
"He'll have to carefully explain a number of things, though, before the authorities change their minds,"said Scanlon. "Not only have they certain definite facts on him; but they have the notion that he's not told them everything."
"He is innocent,"protested Nora.
"Maybe so!"Bat shrugged his shoulders. "But I had a chance to look him over to-day, and while I liked his appearance, I agree with the cops that he was holding back on them."
The girl rose and stood facing them.
"It may be that he is,"she said, and there was a break in the rare voice. "But why fix upon this so readily as a sign of guilt?