Read Ebook: The Paternoster Ruby by Walk Charles Edmonds McFall J V Illustrator

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Ebook has 917 lines and 40670 words, and 19 pages

She lingered, expectant and more cheerful.

"I can't let you go like this"--I was steady enough now. She moved again to the chair she had just vacated, and I released the slim, soft fingers.

"There is one thing we haven't considered," I pursued, "and that is Mr. Alexander Burke. You say Mr. Fluette despises him: if he does, it is not without warrant, I 'd be willing to swear. What that fellow's game is I can't just at this time conceive, but I 'm confident that he 's playing one of some kind--a deep one, too. If he is, the potentialities are endless with such a cunning, unscrupulous rascal.

"I 'm satisfied, moreover, that he has lied to me. According to his statement, no one was in this house last night besides himself, Mr. Page, and Royal Maillot. Between him and Maillot I give the latter the preference, for, if the stories of both are true on any one point, it is that Burke was up and about before and during the time the murder was committed. Burke is consequently in the best position to know who was or was not in the house.

"Now I have a particular reason for thinking that this is one phase of the matter about which he has lied. Should it be that some one else was here--some one that we know nothing about--why, that would put an entirely different complexion upon the affair."

"Suppose," she propounded evenly, "that it was Uncle Alfred?"

I looked at her earnestly.

"You don't know that he was here," was my sober comment.

"No."

"Well, then, what's the use of borrowing trouble?"

"It's very silly--especially as I have trouble enough as it is."

With an impulsive movement, she thrust one little gloved hand into mine.

"I am still your assistant," she affirmed, striving hard to be gay, "if you will have me now. Together we will drive the trouble away."

I caught the other hand, and held the two of them together. She permitted the caress for a moment--for caress it was--then drew her hands away.

"Good-bye," she said faintly, without looking up.

But I got my hat and coat and walked down to the gate with her. Of a sudden, after we reached the walk, she moved a pace or two away from me and halted. Her pretty face dimpled in a smile, and there was a gleam of mischief in the blue eyes. One can't be always melancholy.

"I suppose I 'm a big goose," she said, "to have any faith in you; I 'm thinking it's a case of misplaced confidence."

She waved a hand, gathered her skirts closely about her slender figure and tripped away through the snow.

I could not realize any portion of the past when she had not been near and dear to me.

RIDDLES

I returned to the library and heaped the fireplace with coal. For an hour after Genevieve's departure I was utterly unable to concentrate my mind upon any congeries of fact that might be of the least possible use in unravelling the badly tangled skein presented by Felix Page's death; I could see nothing but the fine blue eyes clouded with trouble, and the sweet face under the shadow of her gnawing anxiety.

I fished up the cipher, flattened it upon the library table, and strove manfully to hold my vagrant attention to the task of interpreting its secret message. My thoughts straightway wandered back to Genevieve again.

Now that I was alone, it was inevitable that I should sum up the results of our conference. I did not blink the truth; the facts were plain, not susceptible of argument.

No matter what the future might have in store for Genevieve and me, whether it was replete with delicious promise, or whether the useless iron gate marked the parting of our ways, her intrusion must ever remain a cherished memory. But it would have been better for her peace of mind not to have sought me out. If she had not, she would have remained ignorant of the circumstance that she possessed any knowledge hurtful to her uncle; if she had remained away, the accusation that he had come to harm through her could never reproach her in after years.

Her errand had been impelled by a conviction that I would appreciate her more intimate knowledge of her cousin's lover. She knew that she could lay before me no tangible testimony in his behalf, but hoped that I could be made to sympathize with her estimate of his character.

During her first visit to the house, with Belle, she had clearly recognized the seriousness of the young man's predicament, and that I would be governed only by the facts as I read them. Notwithstanding he was somewhat fiery and headstrong, if she could influence me to see that he was honest, sincere and straightforward, she felt hopeful that I would continue my investigation with a strong leaning in his favor.

Highly improbable as such a contingency might appear, still it was by no means impossible. "Suppose," Genevieve had asked me, "that it was Uncle Alfred?" Never, unless she herself had some reason to doubt and mistrust, would she have propounded that question. Had he been absent from home until an unwontedly late hour last night? Was his manner in the morning of a nature to draw attention to himself, so that, in the light of later developments, it had provoked her suspicions? I had purposely refrained from asking her any questions touching upon this possibility.

In a flash the image of Genevieve Cooper swam out of my thoughts. My whole attention became glued to the cipher. At each end of the two rows of numerals and arrows was a peculiar crenellated design; it had struck me with a sudden sense of familiarity. Where had I ever seen anything similar or identical, that this odd symbol should penetrate into the midst of my absorption and force me unwittingly to try to recall the circumstance? Quite recently, I was sure--to-day--in this very house. My glance skirted the spacious library, darting from one object to another, but encountered nothing at all that in any way resembled it. Here was a subliminal reminder which my perception was dull to read.

Yet my belief in the correctness of the veiled mental impulse remained unshaken. The design was a facsimile of some object in this house; something my eyes had rested upon, albeit without the existence at the time of any occasion to fix it upon my mind; but conjure my brain as I would, I could not recall where or when.

When Stodger returned, I determined at last, I would set him at work searching for the odd symbol, or whatever it might be. When I made this resolve I was standing beside the old walnut table at the head of Mr. Page's bed; with a forefinger I idly traced the design in the dust on the artificial leather cover, beside the impress made by the jewel-box.

My preoccupation was broken in upon by the arrival of the undertaker's men. It would not do--if the ruby was really beneath this roof--to grant any strangers unrestricted privileges of the house; at least not without keeping a heedful eye upon their movements. Alexander Burke, I shrewdly suspected, was equal to any subterfuge or ruse to obtain the jewel, and I did not mean to be caught napping.

No small responsibility is involved in safeguarding 0,000--the amount Maillot declared his uncle had paid for the ruby--particularly when the guardian himself does not know precisely where the treasure lies. It would not do to take any chances. Otherwise, if the amount had been materially less, or had been in a form not so easily disposed of about the person or by thrusting it into a convenient cranny, or, perhaps, even tossing it unseen through a window to a waiting confederate on the outside, my wisest course might have been to permit Burke, or whoever knew where the jewel was, to lead me to its hiding-place. But I must be vigilant, always alert; there would be little sleep for me until I had this extraordinary gem safe in my hands.

So I remained with the undertaker's men until they departed with the body.

As I turned to re?nter the house Stodger's portly form hove into view. He dropped into one of the library's big easy-chairs.

"Whew!" he gasped. "I'm a peach of a shadow, ain't I? Nice work for one of my build. Say! That fellow Burke--Alexander Stilwell--he 's the--you know--most restless party I ever saw. If Fanshawe had n't relieved me when he did I 'd be worked down to about middle-weight by this time."

"Anything particular?" I inquired.

"Er--no. You know he came back here. Rest o' the time he spent dodging in and out of old Page's offices at the Drovers' National. Walk like a house afire for--m'm-m--maybe a block; next time maybe six blocks."

"Well?"

"Then he 'd--ah--he 'd turn round and walk back again."

"Not very interesting for you. But we know one thing for certain: he 's uneasy. I have a far lighter task for you, though, than following the erratic movements of Mr. Alexander Burke."

And then I recounted for his benefit all that I knew respecting the ruby, declared my belief that it lay somewhere in the house, and, finally, outlined my plans for the immediate future.

"We 'll divide the vigil between us, Stodger; you and I shall camp right here until that costly bauble comes to light. We 'll have to keep our eyes open and our wits about us, too; I wouldn't be surprised at some tricky attempt to recover it at any time--especially during darkness."

After showing him the cipher and requesting that he be observant to find the counterpart of the two peculiar designs, I left him in charge of the house. Next I arranged that our meals be brought to us, after which I returned to town and held a long conference with my chief. This proved to be eminently satisfactory, inasmuch as he left the Page affair entirely in my hands.

Although I hoped that some new development would require another interview with Miss Cooper, absolutely nothing transpired until the next morning. During the rest of Wednesday afternoon--perhaps I forgot to mention that the murder was committed at about midnight Tuesday--and until late Wednesday night, Stodger and I prosecuted a diligent and systematic search for the ruby, the original of the design on the cipher, and for anything else that might bear upon the crime, but found nothing to reward our efforts. At a late hour we knocked off and sought the library's easy-chairs. After a while Stodger asked me for the cipher. When I dropped off to sleep he was industriously digging away at it, with many gasps and inarticulate exclamations.

Concerning the cipher, it is perhaps well to mention that I applied it to the door of the hidden safe on the chance that the opposed arrows indicated the different movements of the dial; but I discovered the combination to be much simpler. In fact, there were not sufficient tumblers in the dial to allow for so complicated a combination at all.

There remained the possibility that the numerals belonged to some other safe, though I did not think so: those two odd crenellated figures could have nothing in common with any permutation-lock. I had seen them; they were tantalizingly familiar; but where? And what meaning did those two figure "10's" bear? Here was a riddle for Oedipus.

The next morning--Thursday--Dr. De Breen conducted the inquest in the library. I mention this hearing solely because of a number of circumstances which occurred during the proceedings--although unrelated to them--and which have a bearing upon the story. As for the testimony itself, it was about as satisfactory as in most instances where little respecting the crime is definitely known.

Stodger and I had the burden of additional watchfulness imposed upon us; a number of people would be brought upon the scene, and each of us had to be present at some time during the hearing without leaving the house unguarded for a second.

"Looky here, Swift," Dr. De Breen buttonholed me, grabbing at his glasses, "what's in this case, anyhow? Have you got the man? 'T isn't a woman, is it?" He cocked his head on one side, and favored me with a squinting regard.

"No, I have n't," I emphatically returned. "And what's more, I don't think you 're going to hit upon him to-day. It is n't a woman, either."

"Don't say! But what have you?"

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