As a matter of fact, I was the only one who aided Markham in his investigations, or who even seemed interested in their results. Sometimes Anne would talk with us, but she was so contradictory and made such untenable suggestions, that I could scarcely find out what her desires or intentions were.
Barbara had taken the stand that she wished investigation stopped. I could not learn her reasons for this, but I began to think it was because she feared what might be learned from them. Morland, I had reason to think, knew more about the matter than he was willing to tell. Whether he was guilty himself, or whether he knew the guilty person, I could not decide, but I was sure one or the other must be the case.
I talked it all over with Condron Archer. He seemed to me to look at the matter very sensibly. “On the face of things,” he said, “you must admit, Sturgis, that it looks as if one of the three Van Wycks must be implicated. So it appears to me that if we can throw suspicion elsewhere, it would save the Van Wyck family.”
“And you would advise that?” I said in surprise. “You would willingly cast suspicion on an innocent person in order to shield one of the Van Wycks?” He looked straight at me. “Wouldn’t you,” he asked, “if it were Anne who was in danger?”
“I don’t know,” I said slowly.
“You ought to know,” he declared. “Look here, Sturgis, what is the use of denying the truth to each other? You are in love with Anne Van Wyck, and so am I. I don’t for a moment believe that she killed her husband, but if she did, I’d rather not know it. Now, should we not do anything in our power to divert suspicion from her? I wouldn’t accuse or convict an innocent man, but if by directing suspicion away from Anne we can save her, let us do so. And then afterward, let the better man win her.”
I had little doubt from Archer’s assured air that he felt certain he himself would prove the better man, but I was not so sure of this. However, for the moment I must consider his proposition. I told him that I would certainly do all in my power to shield Anne, but it was because I believed her innocent, and not because I feared she was guilty.
But he merely shrugged his shoulders at this, and gave me the impression, without saying so, that he thought me insincere.
Chapter XVII.
The Search for the Pearls
It was a strange sort of gloom that hung over us all at Buttonwood Terrace. It was not exactly sorrow; indeed, there was little evidence of real grief for David Van Wyck. His children, if they mourned for him, did not do so openly; while his wife seemed stunned rather than saddened. I could not understand Anne. She seemed to pass rapidly from one strange mood to another. Now she would be most anxious to discover the murderer and avenge the crime, and again she would beg of us to discontinue all investigation.
Archer watched her closely. It seemed to me he suspected her, and wanted to make sure, but he wanted no one else to suspect her.
David Van Wyck had died on Friday night, and the funeral had occurred on Monday. It was now Wednesday, and the inquest would be resumed in a few days. But to my way of thinking, we had little if any more evidence to go on. Jeannette had explained the stiletto, but who knew if she had told the truth? Doubtless she would lie to shield Anne, for she was devoted to her mistress, and the reasons she had given for going away seemed to me far from plausible. Moreover, Anne had expressed no surprise or annoyance at the girl’s absence, which I was forced to admit looked as if the mistress had thoroughly understood it.
It was on Wednesday morning that I was strolling along the terraces, thinking deeply, when I became aware of voices below me. I glanced down a winding, rustic stairway and saw Anne and Condron Archer. He seemed to be pleading with her, and she looked disturbed and a trifle defiant. I turned away, having no desire to be an eaves-dropper, but as I turned, Archer’s voice rose in emphatic declaration, and I couldn’t help hearing his words.
He said, “Anne, I know you took the pearls. Now, promise you will marry me some day, and so give me the right to shield and protect you in this trial.”
The shock of his speech was so great that I involuntarily paused for an instant, and I heard Anne say, “I deny that I took the pearls. If you think I did, you may search for them. I defy you to find them!”
I hurried away from the spot, suddenly realizing that I was listening; and I am quite willing to confess to a strong desire to listen longer. But this I would not do, partly because my sense of honor forbade it, and also because Anne was the woman I loved, and I would not listen to a word of hers that was not meant for my ears.
A moment later I met Barbara and Morland, and they too were talking of the missing pearls.
“Don’t you think, Mr. Sturgis,” said Barbara, “that we ought to make a thorough and systematic search of the house for those pearls before we consider putting the matter in the hands of the police? They represent a fortune in themselves, and I am sure that my father hid them after he had lost control of his mind. It seems to me, then, that they must be somewhere in the study, and we ought to be able to find them.”
“It can certainly do no harm to search,” I responded, non-committally, “but I supposed you had already done so.”
“We have, in a general way,” said Morland; “but Barb means to try to find some secret cupboard or sliding panel hitherto unknown.”
“I’m with you,” I said. “Let’s begin at once. Anything is better than doing nothing; and I do think, Morland, that you’re making very little effort to solve the whole mystery. If I were you, I should call in Fleming Stone.”
“No!” cried Barbara, so sharply that I was surprised. “There is no occasion for such a thing,” she went on. “Father killed himself. His mind gave way at the last, and he was not responsible. Also, he hid the pearls, and we can find them. Come on and let us begin the search. Here are Anne and Mr. Archer—they will help, I’m sure.”
After listening to Barbara’s request, both Anne and Archer heartily agreed to help in a thorough search. We went at once to the study. Markham and Lasseter were already there, and we all went to work with a will. I think I’m safe in saying that no room was ever searched more carefully than the Van Wyck study was that day. We divided it into sections, and each of us searched every section. Mrs. Stelton and Beth Fordyce joined us later, and every possible hiding-place was ransacked. Nor was it an easy task. There were many cupboards and desks and odd pieces of furniture with secret drawers. And besides, there were many possible hiding-places in the massive and intricate ornamentations. The enormous carved fireplace seemed to mock at us with its possibilities. The carved wainscot and stuccoed wall-panels all showed interstices which, though in some cases thick with the dust of time, were large enough to hold a pearl necklace.
Anne was perhaps the most energetic of all the searchers. She ran up the spiral staircase to the musicians’ gallery and called for some one to come and help her. “For,” said she, “this carved railing is simply full of places where anything could be hidden!”
As I looked up and saw Anne leaning forward with both hands on the balcony rail, I thought I had never seen a more beautiful picture. Whether it was the mere exertion of the search, or the result of some secret knowledge of her own, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright with an unnatural excitement.
I ran up the iron staircase, myself, in response to her invitation, and as no one followed us, I drew her back into the shadow of the curtain draperies, and, clasping both her hands in mine, I said earnestly, “Anne, you don’t know where the pearls are, do you?”
Her hands turned cold in mine, and the color died from her cheeks. “How dare you!” she whispered. “What do you mean? What are you implying?”
“Nothing.” And, unable to control myself, I clasped her in my arms. But only for a moment, and then, my senses returning, I released her, and said calmly, “I mean nothing, Anne.