entirely the stiletto as incriminating evidence. Jeannette explained that she had used that stiletto to dig a refractory cork out of a bottle of bronze shoe-dressing. The bronze had given the metal a reddish stain, which she could not remove, and she had hidden it, lest she be scolded for having used the dainty implement for such a purpose. Markham was frankly disappointed. I can’t think he wanted to prove Anne guilty, but his pride was hurt at having his cleverness in finding the stiletto of no avail. “But,” I said to Jeannette, “why did you run away?”
“I didn’t ran away,” she said. “I merely went to visit my sister.”
“But you took a strange time to do that, when your mistress was in such trouble and sorrow.”
“I thought I’d better go,” responded Jeannette; and Markham jumped at this admission.
“Why did you think it better to go?” he demanded.
But Jeannette turned pale and looked very much frightened. “I didn’t have any reason,” she said, beginning to cry. “I just—I just thought I’d go.” We tried every possible way to learn more from her, but without success. She became hysterical and stupid by turns, and finally refused to answer our questions. Markham declared that this attitude on Jeannette’s part was strongly against Anne, but this I would not believe.
Finally I said, “Jeannette, the reason you refuse to talk is because you’re afraid of Carstairs. Now I’ll tell you, it will be better in the long run, if you make a clean breast of this matter and tell us all you know.” And then between her hysterical sobs Jeannette managed to stammer out that Carstairs had said he would kill her if she told.
Certainly she was weak-minded, and I thought the best thing was to scare her a little.
“Nonsense, Jeannette,” I said; “of course Carstairs won’t kill you. Don’t be so foolish. But you may get into very serious trouble if you don’t tell this thing that you’re keeping back. How would you like to go to prison for withholding evidence?”
The girl shivered at the thought, and a little more of this sort of persuasion soon brought her to the point of saying that she would tell all she knew, but that she knew nothing of importance.
“We will judge of the importance,” I said; “and what we want from you is a full account of anything you know concerning last Friday night. In the first place, were you at that ball in the village?”
“No, sir.” The answer, though in low tones, was positive.
“Was Carstairs at that ball?”
“No, sir.”
“Where were you both?”
It seemed almost as if the girl were hypnotized by my question, for she spoke like one in a trance. Nevertheless her answers bore the stamp of truth and it seemed impossible to doubt that she was telling a straight story.
In the same low steady voice Jeannette went on: “We both went for a ride in Mr. Van Wyck’s new car. This was forbidden, of course, but Carstairs said his master would never find it out.”
“You went then, on what is called a ‘joy ride’?”
“I suppose so.”
“And what time did you get home?”
“About midnight.”
“Then it was Carstairs that Miss Fordyce saw sneaking into the grounds?”
“I don’t know, sir, but Ranney saw us and Carstairs made him promise not to tell.”
“At last we’re getting at something definite,” said Mr. Markham, fairly rubbing his hands with pleasure at these new developments. He then took up the work of questioning himself.
“You came into the house about twelve o’clock that night?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And then what did you do?”
“I stopped in the servants’ dining-room, sir, and in a few minutes, Carstairs came in there after putting away the car. He said nobody had seen us except Ranney and he wouldn’t tell. Then he told me I’d better go and see if Mrs. Van Wyck wanted me. So I started for Mrs. Van Wyck’s room, but before I reached it, I saw her coming out of the study.”
“Coming out of the study! Be careful what you’re saying, girl! Are you sure of this?”
“Of course I’m sure. Mrs. Van Wyck had on one of her boudoir gowns, and she was just coming through the study door into the corridor as I saw her. I asked her if she wanted me to help her undress.”
“And what did she say?” The detective was almost breathless now in his excitement.
“She said, ‘No, no! for heaven’s sake go away!’ ”
“Why did she speak like that?”
“I don’t know, sir. She was greatly excited, and her eyes were blazing like stars. She was clutching her hands and she looked almost distracted.”
“Jeannette,” I said, very sternly, “you’re telling the truth?”
“Only the truth, sir. I was frightened at Mrs. Van Wyck’s appearance, but as she said she didn’t want me, I went straight back to the servants’ dining-room. I found Carstairs there, and he looked frightened and white, too. I was all upset, sir, at these queer actions, and I said good-night to Carstairs and went right up to my room.”
“At what time was all this?” asked Mr. Markham.
“When I reached my bedroom it was half-past twelve.”
Mr. Markham looked at the girl thoughtfully. “I believe your story,” he said, “but you will have to tell it again under oath. And in the meantime I forbid you to mention a word of this to anyone. Do you understand? I forbid you!”
“Yes, sir.”
“You ought to have been here and given this evidence at the inquest. Why did you go away just then? You may as well own up.”
Jeannette hesitated only a moment, and then she said simply, “Mrs. Carstairs advised me to go.”
“Mrs. Carstairs! Why did she do that?”
“I don’t know, sir. She said for me to go to my sister’s for a day or two and make a little visit.”
“That is all for the present, Jeannette,” said Mr. Markham. “You may go now, but remember you are not to say a word about all this to anyone.”
“I will remember, sir,” said Jeannette, and she went away.
Chapter XVI.
Telltale Typewriting
After the girl had gone Mr. Markham looked at me significantly. “We certainly have material to work on now,” he said. “What do you make of it all, Mr. Sturgis?”
“I can’t make anything of it,” I replied. “It has all come upon me so suddenly it makes my head whirl. Of course I see, as you do, that this girl’s story is pretty strong evidence against Mrs. Van Wyck, but I, for one, am not willing to take the unsupported evidence of a hysterical and weak-minded servant.”
“But how can you doubt it? The girl would never have made up all that story. You don’t question, do you, the fact that she saw Mrs. Van Wyck coming from the study, soon after midnight? Then how do you explain Mrs. Van Wyck’s presence there, after the men of the committee had gone home and the secretary had also? How do you explain the fact that she was wringing her hands, in a state of great excitement, and even spoke sharply as she declined the services of the maid?”
“I don’t explain these facts, if they are facts. But as I said, I’m not prepared