have taken it to a cleaner's," said Hunt, thoughtfully.
"Then shall we advertise for a cleaner who has had such a job recently?"
But my sarcasm was lost upon Hunt. "I doubt if a cleaner could take out such spots," he went on; "red ink is almost indelible."
"Well, I have little hope of finding these mythical spots on a mythical coat belonging to a mythical man!"
"You're wrong there, for certainly the coat and the man are not mythical. Miss Leslie saw them. Perhaps she can tell us if the red ink spattered him," said Hunt, hopefully.
"She can't tell us anything at present. The doctor won't let her be spoken to on this subject. It seems to me, Hunt, the only thing to do is to call in the police. Of course if they find the man and the coat, some red ink spots on it would go a long way toward proving his guilt. But I'm sure that to find the man will require the skill of the police force, rather than our ineffectual attempts."
"Perhaps you're right," agreed Hunt, "but all the same I shall try to find that coat."
Then Tom Whiting and his wife appeared at the library door.
"We want you, Mr. King, if Mr. Hunt will excuse you," said Edith Whiting, in her pleasant way.
"Certainly," said Mr. Hunt "I am just going home anyway."
"Have you discovered anything new?" asked Tom Whiting.
"We hope to do so," said Mr. Hunt. "I think we are on the right track, though we have not progressed very far, as yet."
"We want you to go with us for a motor ride, Mr. King," said Edith Whiting to me. "Tom insists on my going, and we are taking Irene with us." We started away, but Hunt called me back to whisper a parting message.
"If you find any strangers in automobile togs," he said, "observe carefully whether there are any signs of their having tried to erase red inkspots from the lower fronts of their coats."
"That's the slimmest kind of a slim chance yet," I said, almost smiling at the idea, "but I promise you if I find an automobolist spattered with red ink, I will arrest him at once."
I found the others ready and waiting for me. It seemed pathetic to ride away in Philip's big automobile, but, as Tom Whiting had said, the ladies really needed some fresh air, and he thought the trip would do us all good.
Mr. Maxwell and Miss Miranda insisted on our going, and so we started off. Mr. and Mrs. Whiting sat in front, for Tom was quite as good a chauffeur as Philip had been; and Miss Gardiner and I sat behind.
As there was ample room for another, Irene proposed that we stop for Gilbert Crane. This we did, and he seemed glad to accept the invitation.
It scarcely seemed like the same party who a few days before, accompanied by Philip, had traveled so merrily over these same roads.
On our return, Mrs. Whiting asked Mr. Crane to come in to luncheon with us, and he accepted.
He alighted before I did, and as he stood waiting to help Miss Gardiner out, the midday sunlight shone full upon him.
I looked at him curiously, thinking what a large, fine-looking fellow he was physically, and how becoming his fashionable automobile coat was to him. Its color was a light brownish gray, and as my eye rested idly upon it, I suddenly noticed something that made my heart stand still.
On the front of this same coat, on the lower edge, were several small spots, visible only in the brightest sunlight, which, whatever they might be, had every appearance of being red ink.
To say I was stunned would pretty well express my feelings, but I was learning not to show surprise at unexpected developments.
I went into the house with the rest, and finding that Mr. Hunt had gone, I sent a note to him, by one of the servants, asking him to return at two o'clock.
He came just as we finished luncheon, and bidding him go in the library and await me there, I went into Mr. Maxwell's study. Finding my host there as I had hoped, and not wishing to elevate my voice, I scribbled on a bit of paper a request that Mr. Maxwell would ask Mr. Crane to come into his study, and would keep him there, securely, for twenty minutes at least.
Mr. Maxwell read the paper quietly, handed it back to me, gave me a quick nod of comprehension, and immediately went in search of Gilbert Crane.
A moment later, I saw him return with Gilbert Crane. They entered the study and closed the door, so I knew that the coast was clear, and that for twenty minutes I need fear no interruption from them.
Eagerly seizing his coat from the hat-stand where he had flung it, I hastened to the library.
I found Hunt there, and after closing the door I held up the coat for his inspection.
"You don't mean to say you have found the man!" he cried.
"I don't know about that," I said, very soberly, "but I have certainly found a coat that ought to be looked after. What do you make of this?"
I held the front of the coat toward the window to catch the bright sunlight, and drew Hunt's attention to the almost invisible spots on it.
He looked at them in silence a moment, and then said abruptly: "Get some more blotters."
We dampened the blotters and applied them very carefully, for the spots were faint, and the surface of the cloth dusty.
But the results showed strong evidence that the stains were similar to those on the carpet.
"Whose coat is it?" said Hunt, though I think he knew.
"Gilbert Crane's," I answered, looking straight at the detective.
"But that does not prove that Gilbert Crane committed the murder," he responded, looking at me with equal directness.
"It does not," I said, emphatically,' "but it is certainly a clue that must lead somewhere."
"And we must follow it wherever it leads."
"Yes," I assented, "now that we have something to work on, let us get to work. Shall I call Crane up here, and ask him if he can explain these spots on his coat? Somehow, I can't help thinking that he could do so."
"Not yet," said Mr. Hunt. "I think it wiser to straighten out a few points before we speak to Mr. Crane on the subject. He is a peculiar man, and I don't want to antagonize him.
"I would much rather, if you please, that you would replace the coat where you found it, let Mr. Maxwell know that he need not detain Mr. Crane any longer, and then bring Miss Gardiner back here with you for a short consultation."
I followed Mr. Hunt's suggestions to the letter, but it was with a rapidly sinking heart. Not for a moment did I think Gilbert Crane a villain, and yet there were many circumstances that looked dark against him.
I was also disturbed at Mr. Hunt's request for Irene. A strange foreboding made me fear that some dreadful revelation was about to take place.
The jury had rendered its verdict of "wilful murder by a person unknown," and I fervently hoped the criminal might remain forever unknown rather than that the shadow of guilt might fall on any one who had been hospitably received at Maxwell Chimneys.
Still, in the cause of justice, every possibility must be considered, and I knew that Mr. Hunt would shirk no duty, but would doggedly follow any clue that presented itself.
I looked in at the study door, and the merest lifting of my eye-brows was sufficient to inform Mr. Maxwell that a detention of Gilbert was no longer necessary. I looked at young Crane's inscrutable face, and was obliged to admit to myself that it was not a frank countenance in its general effect. But I resolved that this fact should not be allowed to prejudice me against him.
Finding Mrs. Whiting in the hall, and learning from her that Miss Gardiner had gone to her own room, I asked her to say to Miss Gardiner that Mr. Hunt desired to see her in the library. Mrs. Whiting promised to send Irene there at once, and, greatly dreading the interview, I returned to the library myself.
I