clue we have yet stumbled upon. Why should the murderer break it off and carry it away with her?"
"The doctors have explained that because it was broken off, it almost disappeared from sight; and had it done so, the crime might never have been suspected. Surely this is reason enough for the criminal to take the broken pin away."
The Inspector nodded his head. "Sure," he agreed. "With the spectacular hat-pins the women wear nowadays it might have proved an easy thing to trace. However, it is necessary that I search all the rooms of this apartment for it."
This speech sent a shock through my whole being. I had searched the apartment, but it had been merely with the idea of noting the window fastenings, and looking for a possible villain hidden among the draperies. I had not thought of a search of personal belongings, or of prying into the boxes or bureau-drawers. And that odious Inspector doubtless meant that he would search Janet's room,—and for that hat-pin! Suppose he found it! But I would not allow myself such disloyalty even in imagination.
Changing the subject, I said, "do you think that key they found is Mr. Pembroke's?"
"I don't think anything about it, it isn't a matter of opinion. That key belonged either to the deceased or to somebody else. It's up to us to find out which, and not to wonder or think or imagine who it might, could, would or should have belonged to!"
Clearly, the Inspector was growing testy. I fancied he was not making as rapid progress as he had hoped, and I knew, too, he was greatly chagrined at not finding the pin. As he would probably immediately set about searching the whole place, and as I had no wish to accompany him on his prying into Janet's personal effects, I concluded to go home.
Sad at heart, I turned away from my unsuccessful search for clues, and, bidding good-by to George Lawrence and to the officials who were still in charge of the place, I crossed to my own apartment.
The contrast between the gruesome scenes I had just left and the cheery, pleasant picture that met my eyes as I entered thrilled me with a new and delightful sensation.
To see Janet Pembroke sitting in my own library, in one of my own easy chairs, gave me a cozy, homelike impression quite different from that of Laura's always busy presence around the house.
Miss Pembroke smiled as I entered, and held out her hand to me.
"Mrs. Mulford has been so good to me," she said. "She is treating me more like a sister than a guest, and I am not used to such kind care."
Although I was fascinated by Janet's smile and tone, I was again surprised at her sudden change of demeanor. She seemed bright and almost happy. What was the secret of a nature that could thus apparently throw off the effects of a recent dreadful experience and assume the air of a gentle society girl without a care in the world?
But I met her on her own grounds, and, shaking hands cordially, I expressed my pleasure at seeing her under my roof-tree.
She suddenly became more serious, and said thoughtfully:
"I don't see what I can do, or where I can live. I can't go back to those rooms across the hall"—she gave a slight shudder—"and I can't live with Cousin George now, and I can't live alone. Perhaps Milly Waring would take me in for a time."
"Miss Pembroke," I said, "I am, as you know, your counsel, and as such I must have a very serious talk with you."
"But not now," broke in Laura; "Miss Pembroke is not going to be bothered by any more serious talk until after she has eaten something. Luncheon is all ready, and we were only waiting for you to come, to have it served."
I was quite willing to defer the conversation, and, moreover, was quite ready myself for rest and refreshment.
Notwithstanding the surcharged atmosphere, the meal was a pleasant one. Laura's unfailing tact prevented any awkwardness, and as we all three seemed determined not to refer to the events of the morning, the conversation was light and agreeable, though desultory.
"I wish I had asked Mr. Lawrence to come over to luncheon, too," said Laura. "Poor man, he must be nearly starved."
"Oh, George will look out for himself," said Janet. "But I hope he will come back here this afternoon, as I must talk to him about my future home."
"Miss Pembroke," I said, feeling that the subject could be evaded no longer, "I hope you can make yourself contented to stay here with my sister and myself for a time, at least. Of course it is merely nominal, but you must understand that you are detained, and that I, as your lawyer, am responsible for your appearance."
"Do you mean," asked Janet in her calm way, "that I'm under arrest?"
"Not that exactly," I explained. "Indeed, it is not in any sense arrest; you are merely held in detention, in my custody. I do not apprehend that your appearance in court will be necessary, but it is my duty to be able to produce you if called for."
Seeing that the serious consideration of Janet's affairs could be put off no longer, Laura proposed that we adjourn to the library and have our talk there.
"And I want to say, first of all," she began, "that I invite you, Miss Pembroke, to stay here for a time as my guest, without any question of nominal detention or any of that foolishness. Otis may be your counsel, and may look after your business affairs, but I am your hostess, and I'm going to take care of you and entertain you. If you are in any one's custody you are in mine, and I promise to 'produce you when you are called for.'"
If ever I saw gratitude on any human face, it appeared on Janet Pembroke's then. She grasped Laura by both hands, and the tears came to her eyes as she thanked my sister for her whole-souled kindness to an entire stranger.
"Surely," I thought to myself, "this is the real woman, after all; this grateful, sunny, warm-hearted nature is the real one. I do not understand the coldness and hardness that sometimes comes into her face, but I shall yet learn what it means. I have two problems before me; one to discover who killed Robert Pembroke, and the other to find the solution of that delightful mystery, Janet Pembroke herself."
I could see that Laura, too, had fallen completely under the spell of Janet's charm, and, though she also was mystified at the girl's sudden changes of manner, she thoroughly believed in her, and offered her friendship without reserve. As for myself, I was becoming more infatuated every moment. Indeed, so sudden and complete had been my capitulation that had I been convinced beyond all doubt of Janet's guilt, I should still have loved her.
But as I was by no means convinced of it, my duty lay along the line of thorough investigation.
It having been settled, therefore, that Janet should remain with us for a time, I proceeded at once to ask her a few important questions, that I might at least outline my plan of defence, even before the real need of a defence had arisen.
"Of course you know, Miss Pembroke," said I, "that, as your lawyer, I shall do everything I can for you in this matter; but I want you to feel also that I take a personal interest in the case, and I hope you will trust me implicitly and give me your unlimited confidence."
"You mean," said Janet, who had again assumed her inscrutable expression, "that I must tell you the truth?"
I felt a little repulsed by her haughty way of speaking, and, too, I slightly dreaded the revelations she might be about to make; but I answered gravely: "Yes, as my client you must tell me the absolute truth. You must state the facts as you know them."
"Then I have simply nothing to tell you," said Janet and her face had the cold immobility of a marble statue.
"Perhaps I had better not stay with you during this conversation," said Laura, looking disturbed.
"Oh, do stay!" cried Janet, clasping her hands, as if in dismay. "I have nothing to say to Mr. Landon that you may not hear. Indeed, I have nothing to say at all."
"But you must confide in me, Miss Pembroke," I insisted. "I can do nothing for you if you do not."
"You can do nothing for me if I do," she said, and her words struck a chill to my heart. Laura,