Hand and Ring

of time and events, that it was found he must have been in the house at or near the fatal moment.”

Another pause; another bar of that lovely music.

“And he is a gentleman, you say?” was her hurried remark at last.

“Yes, and a very handsome one.”

“And they have put him in prison?”

“Yes, or will on the morrow.”

She turned and leaned against a window-frame near by, looking with eyes that saw nothing into the still vast night.

“I suppose he has friends,” she faintly suggested.

“Two sisters, if no one nearer and dearer.”

“Thou hast called me thy angel in moments of bliss,
And thy angel I’ll be, ’mid the horrors of this⁠—
Through the furnace, unshrinking, thy steps to pursue,
And shield thee, and save thee⁠—or perish there too,”

rang the mellow song.

“I am not well,” she suddenly cried, leaving the window and turning quickly toward Mr. Byrd. “I am much obliged to you,” said she, lowering her voice to a whisper, for the last note of the song was dying away in a quivering pianissimo. “I have been deeply interested in this tragedy, and am thankful for any information in regard to it. I must now bid you good evening.”

And with a stately bow into which she infused the mingled courtesy and haughtiness of her nature, she walked steadily away through the crowd that vainly sought to stay her, and disappeared, almost without a pause, behind the door that opened into the hall.

Mr. Byrd remained for a full half-hour after that, but he never could tell what he did, or with whom he conversed, or how or when he issued from the house and made his way back to his room in the hotel. He only knew that at midnight he was still walking the floor, and had not yet made up his mind to take the step which his own sense of duty now inexorably demanded.

XI

Decision

Who dares
To say that he alone has found the truth.

Longfellow

The next morning Mr. Ferris was startled by the appearance in his office of Mr. Byrd, looking wretchedly anxious and ill.

“I have come,” said the detective, “to ask you what you think of Mr. Hildreth’s prospects. Have you made up your mind to have him arrested for this crime?”

“Yes,” was the reply. “The evidence against him is purely circumstantial, but it is very strong; and if no fresh developments occur, I think there can be no doubt about my duty. Each and every fact that comes to light only strengthens the case against him. When he came to be examined last night, a ring was found on his person, which he acknowledged to having worn on the day of the murder.”

“He took it off during the inquest,” murmured Mr. Byrd; “I saw him.”

“It is said by Hickory⁠—the somewhat questionable cognomen of your fellow-detective from New York⁠—that the young man manifested the most intense uneasiness during the whole inquiry. That in fact his attention was first drawn to him by the many tokens which he gave of suppressed agitation and alarm. Indeed, Mr. Hickory at one time thought he should be obliged to speak to this stranger in order to prevent a scene. Once Mr. Hildreth got up as if to go, and, indeed, if he had been less hemmed in by the crowd, there is every reason to believe he would have attempted an escape.”

“Is this Hickory a man of good judgment?” inquired Mr. Byrd, anxiously.

“Why, yes, I should say so. He seems to understand his business. The way he procured us the testimony of Mr. Hildreth was certainly satisfactory.”

“I wish that, without his knowing it, I could hear him give his opinion of this matter,” intimated the other.

“Well, you can,” rejoined Mr. Ferris, after a quick and comprehensive survey of Mr. Byrd’s countenance. “I am expecting him here any moment, and if you see fit to sit down behind that screen, you can, without the least difficulty to yourself or him, hear all he has to impart.”

“I will, then,” the detective declared, a gloomy frown suddenly corrugating his brow; and he stepped across to the screen which had been indicated to him, and quietly withdrew from view.

He had scarcely done this, when a short, quick step was heard at the door, and a wide-awake voice called out, cheerily:

“Are you alone, sir?”

“Ah!” ejaculated Mr. Ferris, “come in, come in. I have been awaiting you for some minutes,” he declared, ignoring the look which the man threw hastily around the room. “Any news this morning?”

“No,” returned the other, in a tone of complete self-satisfaction. “We’ve caged the bird and mustn’t expect much more in the way of news. I’m on my way to Albany now, to pick up such facts about him as may be lying around there loose, and shall be ready to start for Toledo any day next week that you may think proper.”

“You are, then, convinced that Mr. Hildreth is undeniably the guilty party in this case?” exclaimed the District Attorney, taking a whiff at his cigar.

“Convinced? That is a strong word, sir. A detective is never convinced,” protested the man. “He leaves that for the judge and jury. But if you ask me if there is any doubt about the direction in which all the circumstantial evidence in this case points, I must retort by asking you for a clue, or the tag-end of a clue, guiding me elsewhere. I know,” he went on, with the volubility of a man whose work is done, and who feels he has the right to a momentary indulgence in conversation, “that it is not an agreeable thing to subject a gentleman like Mr. Hildreth to the shame of a public arrest. But facts are not partial, sir; and the gentleman has no more rights in law than the coarsest fellow that we take up for butchering his mother. But you know all this without my telling you, and I only mention it to excuse any obstinacy I may have manifested