different, as I have told you. But I picked up the handkerchief hastily, and though noticing it was not my own, I thrust it into my pocket without thinking much about it."
"And then when you wanted evidence to incriminate some one other than yourself, you thought of those unknown initials, and flung the handkerchief on the bed."
"Yes," said Lawrence, still as if hypnotized by Stone's compelling glance.
"And afterwards——?"
"Afterwards—afterwards—I went out and got down-stairs the same way, having waited until the elevator was on the floor above. I felt like a man in a dream, but I knew that now I must establish my alibi. This I did exactly as Mr. Stone has described. I took great chances in tampering with the office clock, but I knew the boy to be of a stupid, dull-witted type, and, too, he was always half asleep during night hours. Again I watched my chance to elude the elevator, and slipped down-stairs later to set the clock right again. I suppose I overdid it in asking the boy the time twice, and also in drawing attention to the clock when it struck eleven."
"That is so," said Fleming Stone. "A perfect alibi is not possible unless it is a true one, and then it proves itself without any effort of anybody."
But all this happened many years ago. It is indeed a painful memory, but time has blended away its poignancy. George Lawrence was arrested, but found the means to take his own life before his trial could be begun. Janet being left with a large fortune, went abroad at once and Laura accompanied her. The two became close friends, and when, some months later, I joined them in Italy, the course of true love began to run smoothly, and has continued to do so ever since.
Nor has it been difficult to understand Janet. For all queerness and contradictoriness disappeared after the mystery was solved. It was all because she suspected her cousin that she had endeavored to suppress any evidence that might throw suspicion toward him. He had asked her to get money for him from Robert Pembroke. She had asked her uncle for this, and he had told her that if she'd marry Leroy, he would give her not only the money she asked for, but much more. Knowing, as she did, of the defective bolt, she knew there was grave reason to suspect George both of murder and robbery. But once convinced of his alibi, she hoped the guilt might be placed elsewhere.
Also, of course, the life she led with her erratic and ill-tempered uncle affected her spirits, and made her lose temporarily the joyful and happy disposition that was really her own, and that was permanently restored after new scenes and new friends had caused her to forget the dreadful past.
Janet has been my wife for many years now, and, though we live in New York, our home is far removed from the Hammersleigh; and though our door is securely locked, we have never had it guarded by what was to Fleming Stone a chain of evidence.
THE MAXWELL MYSTERY
XXII. Fleming Stone's Discoveries
Chapter I.
Concerning Opportunities
"Peter King—Please—Peter King—Peter King!"
With a telegram on his tray, the bell-boy traversed the crowded hotel dining-room, chanting his monotonous refrain, until I managed to make him realize that I owned the above name, and persuaded him to hand over the message. It was short, and extremely characteristic of the sender
House party. Take afternoon train Saturday. Stay Tuesday. I. G.
PHILIP MAXWELL
I was more than willing to take the designated train, and looked forward with satisfaction to a few days of pleasure. Philip had a decided genius for arranging parties of congenial people, and, moreover, the telegram assured me that at least one of my fellow guests would prove attractive. For the letters "I. G." meant nothing more nor less than that Irene Gardiner would be there. Though I had met this young woman only twice, she already exerted a fascination over me such as I had never before experienced.
As I had hoped, she too went down to Hamilton on the afternoon train, and the four hours' journey gave me an opportunity to cultivate her acquaintance more informally than at our previous meetings.
This pleased me, and yet when we were comfortably settled in our chairs, and rushing swiftly through the monotonous and uninteresting landscapes of central and southern New Jersey, I was conscious of a certain disappointment regarding my fair companion. In the daylight, and on a railroad train, she lost the subtle charm which perhaps had been imparted by the glamour and artificial light of a ballroom; and she looked older and less ingenuous than I had thought her.
And yet she was a beautiful woman. Her clear dark eyes were straightforward without being piercing; nor were they soulful or languishing,