When I went down to breakfast the next morning, I was in that complacent state of mind natural to a woman who feels that her abilities have asserted themselves and that she would soon receive a recognition of the same at the hands of the one person for whose commendation she had chiefly been working. The identification of Miss Oliver by the Chinaman was the last link in the chain connecting her with the Mrs. James Pope who had accompanied Mr. Van Burnam to his father’s house in Gramercy Park, and though I would fain have had the murdered woman’s rings to show, I was contented enough with the discoveries I had made to wish for the hour which would bring me face to face with the detective.
But a surprise awaited me at the breakfast table in the shape of a communication from that gentleman. It had just been brought from my house by Lena, and it ran thus:
Dear Miss Butterworth:
Pardon our interference. We have found the rings which you think so conclusive an evidence of guilt against the person secreting them; and, with your permission [this was basely underlined], Mr. Franklin Van Burnam will be in custody today.
I will wait upon you at ten.
Franklin Van Burnam! Was I dreaming? Franklin Van Burnam accused of this crime and in custody! What did it mean? I had found no evidence against Franklin Van Burnam.
Book III
The Girl in Gray
XXIX
Amelia Becomes Peremptory
“Madam, I hope I see you satisfied?”
This was Mr. Gryce’s greeting as he entered my parlor on that memorable morning.
“Satisfied?” I repeated, rising and facing him with what he afterwards described as a stony glare.
“Pardon me! I suppose you would have been still more satisfied if we had waited for you to point out the guilty man to us. But you must make some allowances for professional egotism, Miss Butterworth. We really could not allow you to take the initiatory step in a matter of such importance.”
“Oh!” was my sole response; but he has since told me that there was a great deal in that oh; so much, that even he was startled by it.
“You set today for a talk with me,” he went on; “probably relying upon what you intended to assure yourself of yesterday. But our discovery at the same time as yourself of the rings in Mr. Van Burnam’s office, need not interfere with your giving us your full confidence. The work you have done has been excellent, and we are disposed to give you considerable credit for it.”
“Indeed!”
I had no choice but to thus indulge in ejaculations. The communication he had just made was so startling, and his assumption of my complete understanding of and participation in the discovery he professed to have made, so puzzling, that I dared not venture beyond these simple exclamations, lest he should see the state of mind into which he had thrown me, and shut up like an oyster.
“We have kept counsel over what we have found,” the wary old detective continued, with a smile, which I wish I could imitate, but which unhappily belongs to him alone. “I hope that you, or your maid, I should say, have been equally discreet.”
My maid!
“I see you are touched; but women find it so hard to keep a secret. But it does not matter. Tonight the whole town will know that the older and not the younger brother has had these rings in his keeping.”
“It will be nuts for the papers,” I commented; then making an effort, I remarked: “You are a most judicious man, Mr. Gryce, and must have other reasons than the discovery of these rings for your threatened arrest of a man of such excellent repute as Silas Van Burnam’s eldest son. I should like to hear them, Mr. Gryce. I should like to hear them very much.”
My attempt to seem at ease under these embarrassing conditions must have given a certain sharpness to my tone; for, instead of replying, he remarked, with well simulated concern and a fatherly humoring of my folly peculiarly exasperating to one of my temperament: “You are displeased, Miss Butterworth, because we did not let you find the rings.”
“Perhaps; but we were engaged in an open field. I could not expect the police to stand aside for me.”
“Exactly! Especially when you have the secret satisfaction of having put the police on the track of these jewels.”
“How?”
“We were simply fortunate in laying our hands on them first. You, or your maid rather, showed us where to look for them.”
Lena again.
I was so dumbfounded by this last assertion, I did not attempt to reply. Fortunately, he misinterpreted my silence and the “stony glare” with which it was accompanied.
“I know that it must seem to you altogether too bad, to be tripped up at the moment of your anticipated triumph. But if apologies will suffice to express our sense of presumption, then I pray you to accept them, Miss Butterworth, both on my own part and on that of the Superintendent of Police.”
I did not understand in the least what he was talking about, but I recognized the sarcasm of his final expression, and had spirit enough to reply:
“The subject is too important for any more nonsense. Whereabouts in
