made a slight motion.
“And that they are an invaluable clue to the murderer of Mrs. Van Burnam?”
Another motion.
“How then, my child, did you come to have them?”
Her head, which was rolling to and fro on the pillow, stopped and she gasped, rather than uttered:
“I was there.”
He knew this, yet it was terrible to hear it from her lips; she was so young and had such an air of purity and innocence. But more heartrending yet was the groan with which she burst forth in another moment, as if impelled by conscience to unburden herself from some overwhelming load:
“I took them; I could not help it; but I did not keep them; you know that I did not keep them. I am no thief, doctor; whatever I am, I am no thief.”
“Yes, yes, I see that. But why take them, child? What were you doing in that house, and whom were you with?”
She threw up her arms, but made no reply.
“Will you not tell?” he urged.
A short silence, then a low “No,” evidently wrung from her by the deepest anguish.
Mr. Gryce heaved a sigh; the struggle was likely to be a more serious one than he had anticipated.
“Miss Oliver,” said he, “more facts are known in relation to this affair than you imagine. Though unsuspected at first, it has secretly been proven that the man who accompanied the woman into the house where the crime took place, was Franklin Van Burnam.”
A low gasp from the bed, and that was all.
“You know this to be correct, don’t you, Miss Oliver?”
“O must you ask?” She was writhing now, and I thought he must desist out of pure compassion. But detectives are made out of very stern stuff, and though he looked sorry he went inexorably on.
“Justice and a sincere desire to help you, force me, my child. Were you not the woman who entered Mr. Van Burnam’s house at midnight with this man?”
“I entered the house.”
“At midnight?”
“Yes.”
“And with this man?”
Silence.
“You do not speak, Miss Oliver.”
Again silence.
“It was Franklin who was with you at the Hotel D——?”
She uttered a cry.
“And it was Franklin who connived at your change of clothing there, and advised or allowed you to dress yourself in a new suit from Altman’s?”
“Oh!” she cried again.
“Then why should it not have been he who accompanied you to the Chinaman’s, and afterwards took you in a second hack to the house in Gramercy Park?”
“Known, known, all known!” was her moan.
“Sin and crime cannot long remain hidden in this world, Miss Oliver. The police are acquainted with all your movements from the moment you left the Hotel D——. That is why I have compassion on you. I wish to save you from the consequences of a crime you saw committed, but in which you took no hand.”
“O,” she exclaimed in one involuntary burst, as she half rose to her knees, “if you could save me from appearing in the matter at all! If you would let me run away——”
But Mr. Gryce was not the man to give her hope on any such score.
“Impossible, Miss Oliver. You are the only person who can witness for the guilty. If I should let you go, the police would not. Then why not tell at once whose hand drew the hat-pin from your hat and——”
“Stop!” she shrieked; “stop! you kill me! I cannot bear it! If you bring that moment back to my mind I shall go mad! I feel the horror of it rising in me now! Be still! I pray you, for God’s sake, to be still!”
This was mortal anguish; there was no acting in this. Even he was startled by the emotion he had raised, and sat for a moment without speaking. Then the necessity of providing against all further mistakes by fixing the guilt where it belonged, drove him on again, and he said:
“Like many another woman before you, you are trying to shield a guilty man at your own expense. But it is useless, Miss Oliver; the truth always comes to light. Be advised, then, and make a confidant of one who understands you better than you think.”
But she would not listen to this.
“No one understands me. I do not understand myself. I only know that I shall make a confidant of no one; that I shall never speak.” And turning from him, she buried her head in the bedclothes.
To most men her tone and the action which accompanied it would have been final. But Mr. Gryce possessed great patience. Waiting for just a moment till she seemed more composed, he murmured gently:
“Not if you must suffer more from your silence than from speaking? Not if men—I do not mean myself, child, for I am your friend—will think that you are to blame for the death of the woman whom you saw fall under a cruel stab, and whose rings you have?”
“I!” Her horror was unmistakable; so were her surprise, her terror, and her shame, but she added nothing to the word she had uttered, and he was forced to say again:
“The world, and by that I mean both good people and bad, will believe all this. He will let them believe all this. Men have not the devotion of women.”
“Alas! alas!” It was a murmur rather than a cry, and she trembled so the bed shook visibly under her. But she made no response to the entreaty in his look and gesture, and he was compelled to draw back unsatisfied.
When a few heavy minutes had passed, he spoke again, this time in a tone of sadness.
“Few men are worth such sacrifices, Miss Oliver, and a criminal never. But a woman is not moved by that thought. She should be moved by this, however. If either of these brothers is to blame in this matter, consideration for the guiltless one should lead you to mention the name of the guilty.”
But even this did not visibly affect her.
“I shall mention no names,” said she.
“A sign will answer.”
“I shall make no sign.”
“Then Howard must go to his trial?”
A gasp, but no words.
“And Franklin proceed on his way undisturbed?”
She tried not to answer, but the words would come. Pray God! I may never see such a struggle again.
“That is as God wills. I can do nothing in the matter.” And she sank back crushed and wellnigh insensible.
Mr. Gryce made no further effort to influence her.
Chapter XXXIV.
Exactly Half-Past Three
“She is more unfortunate than wicked,” was Mr. Gryce’s comment as we stepped into the hall. “Nevertheless, watch her closely, for she is in just the mood to do herself a mischief. In an hour, or at the most two, I shall have a woman here to help you. You can stay till then?”
“All night, if you say so.”
“That you must settle with Miss Althorpe. As soon as Miss