we were alone.
"Be seated, Mr. Landon," he said, pleasantly; "what can I do for you?"
He was a handsome man and well set up. He was especially well dressed, in clothes of English cut, and his whole appearance showed attention to details. His face betokened a strong, manly character and his gaze was clear and straightforward.
Without preliminaries, I showed him the handkerchief and said, simply, "Is this your handkerchief, Mr. Gresham?"
"It certainly is," he said, taking the linen square, and glancing at the letters; "did you find it? I thank you very much for restoring my property,—though of no great value."
"Had you missed it?" I said, looking at him closely.
"Bless my soul, no! A man has several handkerchiefs, you know, and I dare say I might lose two or three without missing them. Excuse me, Mr. Landon, but aren't you attaching undue importance to such a trifle as a lost handkerchief?"
"I don't know yet, Mr. Gresham, whether this particular loss of yours will prove to be a trifling matter or not. Do you know Robert Pembroke?"
"The man who was murdered a few days ago?"
"Yes."
"No, I never knew him; but I read in the papers of the poor fellow's death and thought it most shocking. I trust they will discover the murderer and avenge the crime."
If Mr. Gresham were implicated in the affair, he certainly carried off this conversation with a fine composure. But I resolved to startle his calm if I could.
"Then can you explain, Mr. Gresham," I said, "how this handkerchief of yours happened to be found on the bed of the murdered man the morning after the murder?"
"Great Heavens, no! nor do I believe it was found there!"
"But it was, for I myself found it."
"My handkerchief! In Mr. Pembroke's bedroom! Impossible!"
The man spoke with an angry inflection and a rising color, and I watched him narrowly. Either this was the just indignation of an innocent man, or else it was the carefully rehearsed dissimulation of a clever wrong-doer. My instinct and my reason told me he was innocent, but my inclinations so strongly hoped for some hint of his guilt, that I persevered.
"Yes, Mr. Gresham, I found it in that room, and on that bed in less than twelve hours after Mr. Pembroke was killed."
"You did! and you think therefore that I killed him, or at least that I was in his room! Why, man, I have already told you that I never knew Mr. Pembroke, and have certainly never been to his house, nor do I even know where he lives!"
This was all very well if it were true, but how was I to know whether this fine gentleman were lying or not. To be sure his face, voice and manner gave every effect of outraged innocence, but was that not just what a clever criminal would show?
"Where were you late last Wednesday night?" I asked him bluntly.
"By Jove! I don't know! I may have been in a dozen places. I go where I choose, and I don't keep a diary of my doings!"
"But try to think, Mr. Gresham," I said, more gently; "were you here at this club?"
"I may have been and I may not. I may have been motoring, or dining out, or at the theatre, or anywhere. I tell you I don't know where I was."
"It will be to your own interest to remember," I said, speaking sternly, for now I began to suspect the man.
"Why do you say that?"
"Because when a man's handkerchief is found under such circumstances, it is advisable for the man to prove that he was not there too."
"Lest I be suspected of the murder of a man whom I never saw, and never even heard of until after he was dead?"
"We have only your own word for that," I returned, coldly; "but the rather definite clue of your handkerchief found in Mr. Pembroke's bedroom requires investigation, and I am here for that purpose."
"The deuce you are! Well, Mr. Landon, you are barking up the wrong tree! May I refer you to my man of business, and ask you to excuse me from a further discussion of this matter?"
"You may not! I am here, Mr. Gresham, if not exactly in an official capacity, yet with the authority of a lawyer employed on this case. And if I may advise you, merely as man to man, I think it will be better for you to question your memory a little more closely, and endeavor to recollect where you were on Wednesday night."
"Oh, suppose I can hark back to it. Let me see; I believe I motored up to Greenwich for the night. No, that was Tuesday night. And Thursday night I went to the theatre. Well, then it must have been Wednesday night that I was at the Hardings' to dinner. Yes, I was. I dined at the home of James S. Harding. And that you can verify from him. Now are you satisfied?"
"What time did you leave Mr. Harding's?"
"I don't know; about eleven or twelve, I suppose."
"And then where did you go?"
"Good Heavens! I can't remember every corner I turned! I think I stopped here at the Club before I went to my diggings; yes I'm sure I did."
"Then there must be Club members, or even stewards by whom you can prove an alibi."
"Prove an alibi! Look here, Mr. Landon, I positively refuse to carry this conversation further. I know nothing of your Mr. Pembroke or of his murderer. I know nothing about that handkerchief, which you say you found there, except the fact that it is mine. Now if your people want to arrest me, let them come and do it; but until they do, kindly spare me further questioning, which I do not admit to be within your rights. Allow me to wish you good morning."
Though most anxious to believe this man guilty, it was difficult to do so, and yet I was quite willing to believe that his somewhat grandiloquent attitude was all a bluff. However, I had found the owner of the handkerchief, and I had learned all I could from him. And so, with a conventional leave-taking, I left him and went home.
Chapter XXI.
Fleming Stone
At dinner and during Saturday evening, Janet seemed so sad and depressed in spirits, that I seconded Laura's efforts to divert her mind from all thoughts of the tragedy.
It was not so difficult as it might seem, for the girl's strange temperament was volatile, and her thoughts were easily led to any subject we suggested. We talked of books and music, and finally of personal acquaintances, discovering that we had a few in common. Although I did not know the Warings personally they were acquaintances of some friends of mine, and I gathered from Janet's remarks that Millicent Waring was one of her intimates.
The evening passed pleasantly enough, but after Laura had carried Janet away to rest for the night, I sat and pondered deeply over my case.
Try as I would, I could not feel that Mr. Gresham had any guilty knowledge of the affair; and if he had, I could think of no way to turn suspicion in his direction. Except, of course, through the handkerchief, which now seemed to me an insoluble mystery.
And except for the slender hope resting upon that handkerchief, I had nothing to offer in the way of evidence against any person or persons other than the girl I loved. It was then that I bethought me of Fleming Stone. I had recently heard of the marvellous work this great detective had done in the Maxwell case, and I wondered that I had not thought of him before. Beside his powers the efforts of minor detectives paled into insignificance. His services were expensive, I knew, but George Lawrence had authorized the employment of a detective, and I did not believe he would object to the outlay. Then, too, my client was now a rich woman, or would be, as soon as the estate was settled.
I admitted my own inability to read the mystery in the clues