“You reason close,” said the District Attorney; “too close,” he added, as he recalled, with painful distinctness, the look and attitude of Mr. Orcutt at the time this ring was first brought into public notice, and realized that so might a man comport himself who, conscious of this ring’s association with the crime he had just secretly perpetrated, sees it claimed and put on the finger of the woman he loves.
Mr. Gryce, with his usual intuition, seemed to follow the thoughts of the District Attorney.
“If our surmises are correct,” he remarked, “it was a grim moment for the lawyer when, secure in his immunity from suspicion, he saw Miss Dare come upon the scene with eager inquiries concerning this murder. To you, who had not the clue, it looked as if he feared she was not as innocent as she should be; but, if you will recall the situation now, I think you will see that his agitation can only be explained by his apprehension of her intuitions and an alarm lest her interest sprang from some mysterious doubt of himself.”
Mr. Ferris shook his head with a gloomy air, but did not respond.
“Miss Dare tells me,” the detective resumed, “that his first act upon their meeting again at his house was to offer himself to her in marriage. Now you, or anyone else, would say this was to show he did not mistrust her, but I say it was to find out if she mistrusted him.”
Still Mr. Ferris remained silent.
“The same reasoning will apply to what followed,” continued Mr. Gryce. “You cannot reconcile the thought of his guilt with his taking the case of Mansell and doing all he could to secure his acquittal. But you will find it easier to do so when I tell you that, without taking into consideration any spark of sympathy which he might feel for the man falsely accused of his crime, he knew from Imogene’s lips that she would not survive the condemnation of her lover, and that, besides this, his only hope of winning her for his wife lay in the gratitude he might awaken in her if he succeeded in saving his rival.”
“You are making him out a great villain,” murmured Mr. Ferris, bitterly.
“And was not that the language of his own countenance as he lay dying?” inquired the detective.
Mr. Ferris could not say No. He had himself been too deeply impressed by the sinister look he had observed on the face of his dying friend. He therefore confined himself to remarking, not without sarcasm:
“And now for the motive of this hideous crime—for I suppose your ingenuity has discovered one before this.”
“It will be found in his love for Miss Dare,” returned the detective; “but just how I am not prepared today to say.”
“His love for Miss Dare? What had this plain and homespun Mrs. Clemmens to do with his love for Miss Dare?”
“She was an interference.”
“How?”
“Ah, that, sir, is the question.”
“So then you do not know?”
Mr. Gryce was obliged to shake his head.
The District Attorney drew himself up. “Mr. Gryce,” said he, “the charge which has been made against this eminent man demands the very strongest proof in order to substantiate it. The motive, especially, must be shown to have been such as to offer a complete excuse for suspecting him. No trivial or imaginary reason for his wishing this woman out of the world will answer in his case. You must prove that her death was absolutely necessary to the success of his dearest hopes, or your reasoning will only awaken distrust in the minds of all who hear it. The fame of a man like Mr. Orcutt is not to be destroyed by a passing word of delirium, or a specious display of circumstantial evidence such as you evolve from the presence of the ring on the scene of murder.”
“I know it,” allowed Mr. Gryce, “and that is why I have asked for a week.”
“Then you still believe you can find such a motive?”
The smile which Mr. Gryce bestowed upon the favored object then honored by his gaze haunted the District Attorney for the rest of the week.
XLII
Consultations
That he should die is worthy policy;
Henry VI
But yet we want a color for his death;
’Tis meet he be condemned by course of law.
Mr. Gryce was perfectly aware that the task before him was a difficult one. To be himself convinced that Mr. Orcutt had been in possession of a motive sufficient to account for, if not excuse, this horrible crime was one thing; to find out that motive and make it apparent to the world was another. But he was not discouraged. Summoning his two subordinates, he laid the matter before them.
“I am convinced,” said he, “that Mrs. Clemmens was a more important person to Mr. Orcutt than her plain appearance and humble manner of life would suggest. Do either of you know whether Mr. Orcutt’s name has ever been associated with any private scandal, the knowledge of which might have given her power over him?”
“I do not think he was that kind of a man,” said Byrd. “Since morning I have put myself in the way of such persons as I saw disposed to converse about him, and though I have been astonished to find how many there are who say they never quite liked or altogether trusted this famous lawyer, I have heard nothing said in any way derogatory to his private character. Indeed, I believe, as far as the ladies were concerned, he was particularly reserved. Though a bachelor, he showed no disposition to marry, and until Miss Dare appeared on the scene was not known to be even attentive to one of her sex.”
“Someone, however, I forget who, told me that for a short time he was sweet on a certain Miss Pratt,” remarked Hickory.
“Pratt? Where have I heard that name?” murmured Byrd to himself.
“But nothing came of
