“Where did you find Gabrielle?”
“After seeing Ruppert murdered, she beat it to the Haldorns’ with what money she had and her jewelry, turning the jewelry over to Minnie Hershey to raise money on. Minnie bought a couple of pieces for herself—her man had picked himself up a lot of dough in a crap game a night or two before: the police checked that—and sent the man out to peddle the rest. He was picked up in a hock-shop, just on general suspicion.”
“Gabrielle was leaving home for good?” he asked.
“You can’t blame her—thinking her father a murderer, and now catching her stepmother in the act. Who’d want to live in a home like that?”
“And you think Leggett and his wife were on bad terms? That may be: I hadn’t seen much of them lately, and wasn’t intimate enough with them to have been let in on a condition of that sort if it had existed. Do you think he had perhaps learned something—some of the truth about her?”
“Maybe, but not enough to keep him from taking the fall for her on Ruppert’s murder; and what he had learned wasn’t connected with this recent affair, because the first time I saw him he really believed in the burglary. But then—”
“Aw, shut up! You’re never satisfied until you’ve got two buts and an if attached to everything. I don’t see any reason for doubting Mrs. Leggett’s story. She told us the whole thing quite gratuitously. Why should we suppose that she’d lie to implicate herself?”
“You mean in her sister’s murder? She’d been acquitted of that, and I suppose the French system’s like ours in that she couldn’t be tried again for it, no matter what she confessed. She didn’t give anything away, brother.”
“Always belittling,” he said. “You need more beer to expand your soul.”
At the Leggett-Ruppert inquests I saw Gabrielle Leggett again, but was not sure that she even recognized me. She was with Madison Andrews, who had been Leggett’s attorney and was now his estate’s executor. Eric Collinson was there, but, peculiarly, apparently not with Gabrielle. He gave me nods and nothing else.
The newspapers got hold of what Mrs. Leggett had said happened in Paris in , and made a couple-day fuss over it. The recovery of Halstead and Beauchamp’s diamonds let the Continental Detective Agency out: we wrote “Discontinued” at the bottom of the Leggett record. I went up in the mountains to snoop around for a goldmine-owner who thought his employees were gypping him.
I expected to be in the mountains for at least a month: inside jobs of that sort take time. On the evening of my tenth day there I had a long-distance call from the Old Man, my boss.
“I’m sending Foley up to relieve you,” he said. “Don’t wait for him. Catch tonight’s train back. The Leggett matter is active again.”
Part II
The Temple
IX
Tad’s Blind Man
Madison Andrews was a tall gaunt man of sixty with ragged white hair, eyebrows, and mustache that exaggerated the ruddiness of his bony hard-muscled face. He wore his clothes loose, chewed tobacco, and had twice in the past ten years been publicly named corespondent in divorce suits.
“I dare say young Collinson has babbled all sorts of nonsense to you,” he said. “He seems to think I’m in my second childhood, as good as told me so.”
“I haven’t seen him,” I said. “I’ve only been back in town a couple of hours, long enough to go to the office and then come here.”
“Well,” he said, “he is her fiancé, but I am responsible for her, and I preferred following Doctor Riese’s counsel. He is her physician. He said that letting her go to the Temple for a short stay would do more to restore her to mental health than anything else we could do. I couldn’t disregard his advice. The Haldorns may be, probably are, charlatans, but Joseph Haldorn is certainly the only person to whom Gabrielle has willingly talked, and in whose company she has seemed at peace, since her parents’ deaths. Doctor Riese said that to cross her in her desire to go to the Temple would be to send her mind deeper into its illness. Could I snap my fingers at his opinion because young Collinson didn’t like it?”
I said: “No.”
“I have no illusions concerning the cult,” he went on defending himself. “It is probably as full of quackery as any other. But we are not concerned with its religious aspect. We’re interested in it as therapeutics, as a cure for Gabrielle’s mind. Even if the character of its membership were not such that I could count with certainty on Gabrielle’s safety, I should still have been tempted to let her go. Her recovery is, as I see it, the thing with which we should be most concerned, and nothing else should be allowed to interfere with that.”
He was worried. I nodded and kept quiet, waiting to learn what was worrying him. I got it little by little as he went on talking around in circles.
On Doctor Riese’s advice and over Collinson’s protests he had let Gabrielle Leggett go to the Temple of the Holy Grail to stay awhile. She had wanted to go, no less prominently respectable a person than Mrs. Livingston Rodman was staying there at the time, the Haldorns had been Edgar Leggett’s friends: Andrews let her go. That had been six days ago. She had taken the mulatto, Minnie Hershey, with her as maid. Doctor Riese had gone to see her each day. On four days he had found her improved. On the fifth day her condition had alarmed him. Her mind was more completely dazed than it had ever been, and she had the symptoms of one who had been subjected to some sort of shock. He couldn’t get anything out of her. He couldn’t get anything out of Minnie. He couldn’t get anything out of the Haldorns. He had
