and it seemed incongruous and inappropriate to pursue our errand in this sorrowful atmosphere.
In the study we found Alexander Maxwell and Miss Miranda. The brother and sister were much together, and oftenest in the study, seeming to prefer to be alone there in their grief.
Miss Maxwell looked up as we entered, but, as often happened, Mr. Maxwell did not hear us, and so did not turn his head.
Not wanting to intrude, I said, quietly, "We're looking for Lord Clarendon. Do you know where he is?"
"He has gone," said Miss Maxwell.
"Lord Clarendon gone! where?" I cried, unintentionally raising my voice in my surprise; and then her brother turned and saw us.
"He has gone home," said Mr. Maxwell; "he remembered an important engagement that called him to the city, and after explaining to my sister and myself that he must go at once, he went, leaving his adieux for the rest of you."
Chapter XIV.
In Pursuit of the Earl
Here was a fine state of affairs, indeed! The Earl, whom we wanted so much to see, was gone; and it seemed to me, and I was sure Hunt felt the same, that his going was, in a way, suspicious.
"Why did he go so suddenly?" I asked.
"He had to," returned Miss Maxwell; "he didn't say definitely what his engagement was, but he said it was important."
"I have an idea," said Mr. Maxwell, "that he didn't care to stay for the funeral. You know how queer Englishmen are that way, and I dare say it got on his nerves."
"Nerves nothing!" I exclaimed; "that man is mixed up in the shooting of Philip, and now we've let him get away! Hunt, tell Mr. Maxwell the circumstances."
So the detective told the two interested listeners about the finding of the letter and the conclusions we must draw from it.
"You see," I said, "I know, and you do too, Mr. Maxwell, that the Earl was in this room wearing that seal at about nine o'clock Monday evening. Early next morning it was found in the library. The Earl denied having been in the library at all that night, and so, you must admit, an explanation is called for."
"But I can't think that the explanation would prove Lord Clarendon guilty of the crime,—or even accessory," said Mr. Maxwell, looking thoughtfully at the gem he held in his hand; "he had no quarrel with our boy."
"He greatly admired Miss Leslie," I said, knowing it to be the truth.
"But he had only known her a day or two," broke in Miss Miranda's gentle voice; "he couldn't possibly become so infatuated in that short time that he would commit a crime for her! And besides, he's a nobleman."
The good lady had always been deeply impressed by the glory of the Earl's title,—a truly American weakness; and she could think no ill of one who rightfully displayed a coronet.
But to my mind the fact of his being a foreigner, and a titled one at that, rather argued against him; though I realized that my prejudice was quite as illogical as Miss Maxwell's.
"Aside from any possible motive," said Hunt, "we have to explain the discrepancy between the Earl's statement that he was not in the room and the finding of a piece of his personal property there. You returned the fob to him after looking at it, I suppose?"
"Certainly I did," said Mr. Maxwell, a little shortly; "but I can not agree that the finding of it in the library implicates his lordship in our tragedy."
"What then would be your hypothesis, sir," said Hunt, "as to finding it in the library?"
"My hypothesis, Mr. Hunt, would be, that the maid, Emily, did not tell the truth, rather than that the Earl of Clarendon did not."
"I hadn't thought of that," I said; "to be sure, that girl might have made up the story, but I can't see why she should do so. She would have kept the jewel, but that Mr. Hunt in questioning her about her dusting of the library, surprised her into a confession. She is simple-minded and emotional, and her confession, I am sure, was entirely truthful."
"It may be," said Mr. Maxwell, coldly; "but I cannot think that logically you have any more reason to assume truthfulness on her part than on the part of the Earl."
"Emily might have found it somewhere else," suggested Miss Maxwell.
"Then why make up that story?" said Hunt.
"I don't know, I'm sure, unless to make a sensation. She's a queer girl and I've never understood her."
"I'm positive that she did not make up that story, dear Miss Maxwell," said I; "and I know if you had heard her, you would agree with me. But I am willing to admit that there may be and probably is some commonplace explanation; and whatever it may be, we must know it before we go any further. Do you know where the Earl has gone?"
"Yes," said Miss Maxwell, "he went to New York. I think he is staying at the Waldorf; at least, that's where he was just before he came to us."
"Then I'm going straight there to see him," I declared, "and I shall start at once."
Hunt looked his approval of this, but the other two did not.
"I don't think you'd better, King," said Mr. Maxwell, slowly; but Miss Maxwell grasped my arm impulsively, and said, "Oh, don't go, Peter! please don't go until after the funeral, anyway."
I couldn't resist her pathetic appeal, and I agreed not to go until after the funeral, but I insisted on my plan of going then.
"Did the Earl say good-by to Miss Leslie?" I asked Miss Maxwell, pausing, as I was about to leave the room.
"Oh, no," she answered; "Milly is very ill again. The excitement of that talk with you this morning threw her into a high fever and we are all very anxious about her. I told Lord Clarendon this, and it was after that, that he told me he was going."
"Because of it?" asked Hunt, suddenly.
"No, of course not. In fact he left a message for Milly in addition to his good-by, to the effect that she would be glad he had gone."
"What could he have meant by that, Miss Maxwell?"
"I don't know, unless he felt that his attentions to her had been unwelcome, and she would be glad to know he was gone."
"No man's attentions are unwelcome to Mildred Leslie," I said, "and I don't think that's what he meant at all. I tell you, Miss Maxwell, that man is mixed up in our trouble, and Milly Leslie knows it. Suppose for a moment that it was the Earl who shot Philip, wouldn't Philip exclaim, 'Oh, to think he should shoot me!' and wouldn't Milly, if she knew or suspected it, be glad to have the Earl go away?"
"Peter," said Mr. Maxwell, somewhat sternly, "your suggestion is monstrous! I should be angry at you, were it not that your idea is so absurd! You are carried away with your desire to detect somebody or something. Now, my boy, put this all out of your mind, at least for the present. This afternoon we shall give the last honors we can to our Philip; and after that it will be time to turn our attention to avenging the crime that took him from us."
Mr. Maxwell's manner was impressive, and I felt rebuked that I should have obtruded my theories and suspicions at this moment. I said as much, in an apologetic way, and then Hunt and I withdrew.
"You're dead right, Mr. King," said Hunt, after we had left the study; "it was his Noble Nibs that turned the trick! And I hope you will track him down at once. You can take that five o'clock train to New York, but, even so, he has hours the start of you. I wish the old people would let you go now."
"No, I can't offend those gentle souls by insisting on that. But I'll go up this afternoon, Hunt, and I'll find that man, unless he has really fled from justice."
I don't care to dwell upon the sad rites of that afternoon. It was hard to realize that we were gathered there to pay the last honors to