said calmly, "but please agree, Miss Pembroke, to consider me as your counsel from this moment."
This was, of course, precipitate, but I was impelled to it by the emergency of the moment. And, too, the conviction was every moment sinking deeper in my heart that this was the one woman in the world I could ever love. So alone was she, and so pathetic in her loneliness, so mysterious was her conduct and so fascinating her personality, that I resolved to devote all the legal talent I possessed to her aid.
"I will," she said, and she gave me a glance earnest but so inscrutable that I could make no guess as to its meaning.
If I was surprised at her quick acceptance of my offer, I made no sign of it. I had gained my point, and, satisfied, I said no more. Nor had I been mistaken in my premonitions.
The coroner's jury brought in a verdict that Robert Pembroke was murdered by some person or persons unknown, between the hours of eleven and one on Wednesday night. They suggested the detaining of Miss Pembroke and Charlotte, the maid, in custody of counsel who would be responsible for their appearance when called for.
As this was exactly the verdict I had expected, it was no surprise to me; but it acted like a thunder-bolt on the others.
George Lawrence was white with rage, and rather lost his head as he inveighed angrily against those who could be capable of such an absurdity as any connection between crime and Miss Janet Pembroke.
"Detain Janet!" he cried; "what nonsense!"
"It is not nonsense, Mr. Lawrence," said the coroner, "but we may call it merely a form, which is advisable in our opinion, until we can further investigate the case."
"Indeed we will investigate!" Lawrence declared; "and our investigation will prove that it was an intruder from outside who killed my uncle. A robber, a burglar, a professional criminal of some sort! You have enough evidence of this. Clues, you call them. Well, there they are; let them lead you to the discovery of the man who brought them here."
"But, Mr. Lawrence," objected the coroner, "it has been proved that a burglar, such as you speak of, could not get into this apartment last night. How do you suppose he entered?"
"How did he get in? I don't know! that is your business to find out. There you have your precious clues—enough of them to implicate any burglar. If necessary, get detectives—the best possible. Use any means, stop at no expense; but discover the man who committed this crime! And in the meantime, retract your absurd and idiotic suggestion of detaining Miss Pembroke."
Though not astonished that George Lawrence should so resent the suspicion of his cousin, I was surprised that he should express himself so vehemently and with such an exhibition of passion.
And then I remembered that both he and Miss Pembroke were of strongly emotional nature, and that since Robert Pembroke had been given to frequent exhibitions of anger and ill temper, it was probably an hereditary trait.
After the Coroner's words Lawrence said no more, but his firmly set mouth and glaring eyes, betokened the intensity of his thoughts.
The colored girl, Charlotte, was also moved to loud and protesting lamentations. She became hysterical and wailed and moaned in true negro fashion.
"Oh, lawsy me!" she exclaimed! "why didn' I leave befoh dis yer strodegy happened! Oh, Miss Janet, honey, did yo' really kill Marse Robert? An' did you steal dat money? Oh, I nebber thought my Miss Janet would do dat!"
"Silence!" roared George Lawrence, but the excited woman paid no attention to him.
"She did, she did!" Charlotte went on; "Marse Robert, he told Miss Janet he'd cut her out of his will, ef she didn' marry that Leroy man! So, ob co'se, Miss Janet she jes' nachelly had to kill him!"
Although Charlotte's remarks were definite and dreadful, they were so incoherent and so interrupted by her wails and moans, that they made little impression on the people present. Moreover, George Lawrence had grasped the colored woman by the arm, and was shaking her into a submissive silence, threatening dire punishment, unless she ceased her random talk. I had gathered the trend of Charlotte's story; George and Janet had also understood it, but fortunately the Coroner and jurymen had been talking together, and had not listened to the servant's hysterical talk.
Chapter XI.
The Chained Door
Janet herself sat as one turned to stone. I think it was the first time she had realized that even a slight suspicion had definitely been attached to her name, and, had she been guilty, she could not have looked more stunned by shame and ignominy.
I remembered that she had said: "Perhaps I did do it"; I remembered that I knew nothing of her character save that it was a complex one, and—I wondered.
But it was no time for wondering; it was an occasion for action. Rising to my feet, I announced that as Miss Pembroke's counsel I would at once take up the direction of her affairs. I agreed to be responsible for her appearance, and Charlotte's also, whenever necessary, and I directed that any communication for Miss Pembroke be addressed to me as her lawyer.
My standing in my profession was of sufficient prominence to make all this possible, and the coroner agreed to my proposals.
George Lawrence looked amazed and not altogether pleased.
"I think, Janet," he said, "you should have left it to me to select your counsel."
As usual, Janet's behavior was an insoluble problem. "Why should I?" she retorted. "I need an able lawyer at once, and as Mr. Landon offered his services I was glad to accept his offer."
"What is your urgent need?" said George, looking at her peculiarly. "You are not accused."
"I may be," she returned calmly. "And, too, I have now important financial interests to be attended to."
I was shocked at the calm way in which she referred to her possible accusation, and also at the reference she made to her presumptive inheritance. Could it be, after all——?
"Yes," said George; "it is wise to have good legal advice immediately, and you have done well to retain Mr. Landon."
This sudden change of base surprised me, but I was growing used to surprises, and accepted it with the rest.
"Call on me," said George affably, as he held out his hand, "for any assistance or information I can give you regarding my cousin's affairs."
As it was then nearly two o'clock, I proposed to Laura that she take Miss Pembroke over to our own apartment for luncheon and rest, and, after a short talk with Mr. Lawrence, I would follow.
In conversation with George Lawrence, I learned that he was administrator of his uncle's estate, and as he and his cousin shared the inheritance equally, there would be little difficulty in the settling of financial affairs.
But as to the murder, there was more to be said.
George was still furious at the implication cast on Janet and continually repeated how absurd the whole idea was.
"But," I said, merely for argument's sake, "you know Miss Pembroke did put the chain on the door last night, and Charlotte did take it off this morning."
"There are other ways of getting in a house," stormed George. "Windows have been forced before now."
"Let us ourselves examine the windows," I said. "We may find some clue."
"I hate that word 'clue,'" he declared. "I hate all suggestion of detective work, and deductions, and inferences."
"But surely a detective is needed in a case like this," I said.
"Not to my notion. Uncle Robert was killed. Janet never killed him. Of course Charlotte didn't either. So somebody must have got in at the window."
"Very well then, a