And so, after the most exhaustive inquiry and the most diligent sifting of evidence, the jury could return only the timeworn verdict, “Death at the hands of some person or persons unknown.”
But in addition to this it was recommended by the jury that Schuyler Carleton be kept under surveillance. There had not been enough evidence to warrant his arrest, but the district attorney was so convinced of the man’s guilt that he felt sure proofs of it would sooner or later be brought to light.
Carleton himself seemed apathetic in the matter. He quite realized that his guilt was strongly suspected by most of the community, but, instead of breaking down under this, he seemed rather to accept it sadly and without dispute.
But though the inquest itself was over, vigorous investigation was going on. A detective of some reputation had the case in hand officially, and, unlike many celebrated detectives, he was quite willing to confer with or to be advised by young Fessenden.
Spurred by the courtesy and confidence of his superior, Rob devoted himself with energy to the work of unravelling the mystery, but it was baffling work. As he confessed to Kitty French, who was in all things his confidante, every avenue of argument led up against a blank wall.
“Either Carleton did do or he did not,” he said reflectively. “If he did, there’s absolutely no way we can prove it; and if he didn’t, who did?”
Kitty agreed that this was a baffling situation.
“What about that cachou, or whatever you call it?” she said.
“It didn’t amount to anything as a clue,” returned Rob moodily. “I showed it to some of the servants, and they said they had never seen such a thing before. Harris was quite sure that none of the men who came here ever use them. I asked Carleton, just casually, for one the other day, and he said he didn’t have any and never had had any. I asked Willard for one at another time, and he said the same thing. It must have been dropped by some of the decorator’s men; they seemed a Frenchy crowd, and I’ve been told the French are addicted to these things.” Rob took the tiny silver sphere from his pocket and looked at it as he talked. “Besides, it wouldn’t mean a thing if it had belonged to anybody. I just picked it up because it was the only thing I could find in the drawing-room that wasn’t too heavy to lift.”
Rob put his useless clue back into his pocket with a sigh. “I’m going to give it up,” he said, “and go back to New York. I’ve stayed here in Mapleton over a week now, hoping I could be of some help to poor old Carleton; but I can’t—and yet I know he’s innocent! Fairbanks, the detective on the case, is pleasant to work with, and I like him; but if he can’t find out anything, of course I needn’t hope to. I’d stay on, though, if I thought Carleton cared to have me. But I’m not sure he does, so I’m going back home. When are you going to New York, Kitty?”
But the girl did not answer his question. “Rob,” she said, for the intimacy between these two young people had reached the stage of first names, “I have an inspiration.”
“I wish I had some faith in it, my dear girl; but your inspirations have such an inevitable way of leading up a tree.”
“I know it, and this may also. But listen: doesn’t Schuyler believe that you suspect him?”
“I don’t suspect him,” declared Rob, almost fiercely.
“I know you don’t; but doesn’t Schuyler think you do?”
“Why, I don’t know; I never thought about it. I think very likely he does.”
“And he’s so proud, of course he won’t discuss it with you, or justify himself in any way. Now, look here, Rob: you go to Schuyler, and in your nicest, friendliest way tell him you don’t believe he did it. Then—don’t you see?—if he is innocent, he will expand and confide in you, and you may get a whole lot of useful information. And on the other hand, if he is guilty, you’ll probably learn the fact from his manner.”
Rob thought it over. “Kitty,” he said at last, “you’re a trump. I believe you have hit upon the only thing there is to try, and I’ll try it before I decide to go to New York. I’ll stay in Mapleton a day or two longer, for the more I think about it, the more I think I haven’t been fair or just to the old boy in not even asking for his confidence.”
“It isn’t that so much, but you must assure him of your belief in him. Tell him you know he is innocent.”
“I do know it.”
“Yes, I know that has been your firm conviction all along, though it isn’t mine. But don’t tell him it isn’t mine; just tell him of your own confidence and sympathy and faith in him, and see what happens.”
“A woman’s intuitions are always ahead of a man’s,” declared Rob heartily. “I’ll do just as you say, Kitty, and I’ll do it wholeheartedly, and to the best of my ability.”
Kitty was still staying in the Van Norman house, which had not yet been, and probably would not soon be, known by any other name.
Mrs. Markham had gone away temporarily, though it was believed that when she returned it would be merely to arrange for her permanent departure. The good lady had received a generous bequest in Madeleine’s will, and, except for the severing of old associations, she had no desire to remain in a house no longer the home of the Van Normans.
Miss Morton was therefore mistress of the establishment, and thoroughly did she enjoy her position. She invited Miss French to remain for a time as her visitor, and Kitty had stayed on, in hope of learning the truth about the tragedy.
At Miss
