could not imagine.
But Anne knew. Sinking back in her chair, she covered her face with her hands and gave a low moan.
Chapter XX.
The Mystery Solved
Just then Barbara and Morland came into the room. “What’s the matter, Anne?” Morland asked “Who’s bothering you? I won’t have it!” He went to her and put his arm round her, and, seemingly encouraged by his strength and sympathy, Anne looked up and with an effort regained her poise.
“They’re mine!” she exclaimed, addressing herself to Stone, while her dark eyes flashed defiance at him.
“I don’t doubt it,” he replied, and then he looked at her in a perplexed way. For a moment these two exchanged glances, and it seemed as if they had superhuman powers of reading each other’s thoughts. Then Stone gave a little nod, straightened himself up, and said, “We must go on, whatever the outcome.”
Then, speaking to us all, generally, he said, “I have found the missing pearls—I can lay my hand upon them at any moment. Before I do so, does the one who took them from the study wish to say so?”
Archer looked at Anne, but I looked at Morland. I had a feeling that Morland had taken those pearls; but, if so, he showed no evidence of guilt at this moment.
Fleming Stone looked at no one in particular, and after a moment’s pause he said, “Then I will simply hand them to their owner.”
He went to the book-shelves, and without hesitation took down a thick volume. It was an old-fashioned photograph album, fastened with two ornate gilt clasps. Slowly snapping these open, he opened the book. The photographs from several of the leaves had been removed, and in the cavity thus made, wrapped in blue cotton, was the Van Wyck pearl necklace!
Amid the exclamations of surprise, I was silent, for I realized instantly that those photographs in the gilt chest were the ones taken from the album to make room for the pearls; and that I—I had deliberately shown those photographs to Stone, and thereby offered his quick intellect a clue to the hiding-place!
“They are mine!” cried Anne. “It was no theft! My husband gave them to me, and I had a perfect right to take them when I chose, and hide them where I chose. But because I took them from the safe in the study, you need not think that I killed my husband! I took them—the day before!”
“Anne,” exclaimed Archer in a warning voice, “tell the truth, dear—it will be better.”
“But you did go into the study late that night, Mrs. Van Wyck,” said Stone quietly.
“How do you know?” flashed Anne.
“For one thing, your maid saw you coming from the study shortly after midnight. But also, I found in there, on the fur rug in front of the safe, two small scraps of the shredded tissue-paper from the box which you unpacked. I found also two bits in the rosettes of the negligee gown that you wore, and I’m sure that the bits on the rug fell from your gown as you took the pearls from the safe. I do not deny your right to take them; nor your right to hide them in the exceedingly clever place you selected. But I must ask you to admit if this is true.”
“It is true,” said Anne, as if at the end of her endurance, and then she fainted.
We went away from the room, leaving her with Barbara and the maid; and as none of us felt inclined to talk, we drifted apart.
Fleming Stone seemed more than ever thoughtful and preoccupied. I would have talked with him, but he asked to be left to himself, and went directly to the study.
Soon after this, luncheon was announced, and we gathered round the table in a desperate effort to throw off the gloomy fear that overhung us.
At first the conversation was on general subjects, Stone leading the way with his kindly and courteous remarks.
But all at once Anne lifted her great eyes, and, looking straight at Stone, said, “I know you think I killed my husband, Mr. Stone, but I did not. And why should I do so, to get those pearls, since they were my own, anyway?”
I thought perhaps Fleming Stone would answer this question directly, but instead he said, “Were you not anxious to prevent his gift to the library?”
Then Morland spoke in a terse, hard voice: “You mean by that, Mr. Stone, that Anne took the Deed of Gift from my father’s desk. That is not true, for I took it myself.”
“You did?” said Stone, looking at him sharply. “Yes, I did. I told the truth when I said I left the study before Lasseter did. But I don’t think Lasseter knew this, and he thought I was there when he went away. But a little later I returned. My father was not there; the outside door was open, and I think he had stepped out on the terrace. However, I took the deed, and I have it in my possession still; but as it is unsigned, it is of no value to anybody. But I did not kill my father, and I’m telling about the deed to exonerate Anne from any suspicion of having taken it.”
Anne cast a grateful look at Morland, and then continued to look at him, but with a changed expression. I could follow her thoughts, or at least I thought I could, and I thought she was wondering if, after all, Morland had killed his father. Perhaps they had quarrelled over the deed, and Morland was misrepresenting the scene.
At any rate, the net of suspicion was drawing close round the two, Morland and Anne. My heart sickened as I realized that it must have been one or the other of these, and that Fleming Stone’s unerring skill would yet discover which.
“It is unnecessary to assert innocence until guilt is suspected,” said Stone, in a calm voice; “and until we learn how a murderer could get in and out of that locked room, we can accuse no one; nor can we assert that it was not a case of suicide.” And then he determinedly changed the subject; nor would he allow it to be brought up again during the meal.
But as we left the table, Stone spoke low to me. “Lead the whole crowd out on the terrace,” he said, “and keep them there for an hour or so. On no account let them come into the house, or at least not into the study. I must be uninterrupted for an hour, at least, and then the mystery will be solved.”
He had not set me a difficult task. For some reason, the members of the little group seemed quite willing to stay out of doors. We strolled down to a large arbor on the lawn, and sat there talking, sometimes all together, and sometimes in twos and threes. After a while Markham joined us, and inquired how far Mr. Stone had progressed in his investigations. Anne told him frankly enough that she herself had taken the pearls from the safe, and Morland repeated his admission of having taken the deed. Mr. Markham was excited over these revelations, but the strange apathy that had settled down on our people was not greatly stirred by his comments. Presently Archer and Beth Fordyce went off for a walk around the garden. Mrs. Stelton asked me to go, too, but I declined, as I had my work of keeping the people out of the house.
It was just about an hour before Stone rejoined us. He greeted Mr. Markham pleasantly enough, and then turned to me. “As my employer,” he said, “shall I make my final report to you?”
“To all of us,” I replied. “I asked you to come here, but Mrs. Van Wyck and David Van Wyck’s children are quite as much entitled to hear your report as I.”
“Let us all go to the study, then,” said Stone. “Where is Mr. Archer?”
“He went down through the lower gardens with Miss Fordyce,” I replied.
“Mr. Markham,” said Stone, “suppose you go after them.” He added a few words to Markham which I did not hear, and then we all went to the study.
“I can tell you all in a few words,” said Mr. Stone. “We know that Mrs. Van Wyck took the pearls from the safe, and that Mr. Morland Van Wyck took the paper from his father’s desk. But neither of these had any hand in Mr. Van Wyck’s death. Mr. Van Wyck was