“Our immediate problem boils down to finding out who had the opportunity to do it,” he said. “You, Miss O’Brien, may return to your room. …” Then he went to the bell-cord and rang for Sproot.
During a brief interrogation of the butler the following facts were brought out:
-
The house had been locked up, and Sproot had retired, at about half past ten.
-
Sibella had gone to her room immediately after dinner, and had remained there.
-
Hemming and the cook had lingered in the kitchen until shortly after eleven, at which time Sproot had heard them ascend to their rooms.
-
The first intimation Sproot had of Mrs. Greene’s death was when the nurse sent him to draw the reception-room shades at nine that morning.
Markham dismissed him and sent for the cook. She was, it appeared, unaware of Mrs. Greene’s death and of Ada’s poisoning as well; and what evidence she had to give was of no importance. She had, she said, been in the kitchen or in her own room practically all of the preceding day.
Hemming was interviewed next. From the nature of the questions put to her she became suspicious almost at once. Her piercing eyes narrowed, and she gave us a look of shrewd triumph.
“You can’t hoodwink me,” she burst out. “The Lord’s been busy with his besom again. And a good thing, too! ‘The Lord preserveth all them that love him: but all the wicked shall he destroy.’ ”
“ ‘Will,’ ” corrected Vance. “And seeing that you have been so tenderly preserved, perhaps we had better inform you that both Miss Ada and Mrs. Greene have been poisoned.”
He was watching the woman closely, but it took no scrutiny to see her cheeks go pale and her jaw sag. The Lord had evidently been too precipitously devastating even for this devout disciple; and her faith was insufficient to counteract her fear.
“I’m going to leave this house,” she declared faintly. “I’ve seen enough to bear witness for the Lord.”
“An excellent idea,” nodded Vance. “And the sooner you go the more time you’ll have to give apocryphal testimony.”
Hemming rose, a bit dazed, and started for the archway. Then she quickly turned back and glared at Markham maliciously.
“But let me tell you something before I pass from this den of iniquity. That Miss Sibella is the worst of the lot, and the Lord is going to strike her down next—mark my words! There’s no use to try and save her. She’s—doomed!”
Vance lifted his eyebrows languidly.
“I say, Hemming, what unrighteousness has Miss Sibella been up to now?”
“The usual thing.” The woman spoke with relish. “She’s nothing but a hussy, if you ask me. Her carryings-on with this Doctor Von Blon have been scandalous. They’re together, as thick as thieves, at all hours.” She nodded her head significantly. “He came here again last night and went to her room. There’s no telling what time he left.”
“Fancy that, now. And how do you happen to know about it?”
“Didn’t I let him in?”
“Oh, you did?—What time was this? And where was Sproot?”
“Mr. Sproot was eating his dinner, and I’d gone to the front door to take a look at the weather when the doctor walks up. ‘Howdy-do, Hemming?’ he says with his oily smile. And he brushes past me, nervous-like, and goes straight to Miss Sibella’s room.”
“Perhaps Miss Sibella was indisposed, and sent for him,” suggested Vance indifferently.
“Huh!” Hemming tossed her head contemptuously, and strode from the room.
Vance rose at once and rang again for Sproot.
“Did you know Doctor Von Blon was here last night?” he asked when the butler appeared.
The man shook his head.
“No, sir. I was quite unaware of the fact.”
“That’s all, Sproot. And now please tell Miss Sibella we’d like to see her.”
“Yes, sir.”
It was fifteen minutes before Sibella put in an appearance.
“I’m beastly lazy these days,” she explained, settling herself in a large chair. “What’s the party for this morning?”
Vance offered her a cigarette with an air half quizzical and half deferential.
“Before we explain our presence,” he said, “please be good enough to tell us what time Doctor Von Blon left here last night?”
“At a quarter of eleven,” she answered, a hostile challenge coming into her eyes.
“Thank you. And now I may tell you that both your mother and Ada have been poisoned.”
“Mother and Ada poisoned?” She echoed the words vaguely, as if they were only half intelligible to her; and for several moments she sat motionless, staring stonily out of flintlike eyes. Slowly her gaze became fixed on Markham.
“I think I’ll take your advice,” she said. “I have a girl chum in Atlantic City. … This place is really becoming too, too creepy.” She forced a faint smile. “I’m off for the seashore this afternoon.” For the first time the girl’s nerve seemed to have deserted her.
“Your decision is very wise,” observed Vance. “Go, by all means; and arrange to stay until we have settled this affair.”
She looked at him in a spirit of indulgent irony.
“I’m afraid I can’t stay so long,” she said; then added: “I suppose mother and Ada are both dead.”
“Only your mother,” Vance told her. “Ada recovered.”
“She would!” Every curve of her features expressed a fine arrogant contempt. “Common clay has great resistance, I’ve heard. You know, I’m the only one standing between her and the Greene millions now.”
“Your sister had a very close call,” Markham reprimanded her. “If we had not had a doctor on guard, you might now be the sole remaining heir to those millions.”
“And that would look frightfully suspicious, wouldn’t it?” Her question was disconcertingly frank. “But you may rest assured that if I had planned this affair, little Ada would not have recovered.”
Before Markham could answer she switched herself out of the chair.
“Now, I’m going to pack. Enough is enough.”
When she had left the room, Heath looked with doubtful inquisitiveness at Markham.
“What about it, sir? Are you going to let her leave the city? She’s the only one of the Greenes who hasn’t been touched.”
We knew what he meant; and this spoken suggestion of the
