The Holladay Case Part 12
"Now, frankly, Mr. Rankin," I asked, "if you were in my place, would you tell?"
He hesitated for a moment, and then held out his hand.
"No," he said, as I took it. "I shouldn't. Shake hands, sir; you're all right. Come on, boys, we might as well be going."
They filed out after him, and I heard them go singing up the street.
Then I sank back into my chair and thought again of G.o.dfrey's theory; it seemed to fit the case precisely, point by point--even--and I started at the thought--to Miss Holladay's reticence as to her whereabouts the afternoon before. The whole mystery lay plain before me. In some way, she had discovered the existence of her half-sister, had secured her address; she had gone to visit her and had found her away from home--it was probable, even, that the half-sister had written her, asking her to come--though, in that case, why had she not remained at home to receive her? At any rate, Miss Holladay had awaited her return, had noticed her agitation; had, perhaps, even seen certain marks of blood upon her. The news of her father's death had pointed all too clearly to what that agitation and those blood-spots meant. She had remained silent that she might not besmirch her father's name, and also, perhaps, that she might protect the other woman. I felt that I held in my hand the key to the whole problem.
Point by point--but what a snarl it was! That there would be a vigorous search for the other woman I could not doubt, but she had a long start and should easily escape. Yet, perhaps, she had not started--she must have remained in town, else how could that note have been sent to us? She had remained, then--but why? That she should feel any affection for Frances Holladay seemed absurd, and yet, how else explain the note?
I felt that I was getting tangled up in the snarl again--there seemed no limit to its intricacies; so, in very despair, I put the matter from me as completely as I could and went to bed.
The morning's _Record_ attested the truth of Rankin's prophecy. I had grown famous in a night: for G.o.dfrey had, in a measure, made me responsible for his theory, describing me with a wealth of adjectives which I blush to remember, and which I have, even yet, not quite forgiven him. I smiled as I read the first lines:
A _Record_ representative had the pleasure, yesterday evening, of dining with Mr. Warwick Lester, the brilliant young attorney who achieved such a remarkable victory before Coroner Goldberg yesterday afternoon, in the hearing of the Holladay case, and, of course, took occasion to discuss with him the latest developments of this extraordinary crime. Mr. Lester agreed with the _Record_ in a theory which is the only one that fits the facts of the case, and completely and satisfactorily explains all its ramifications.
The theory was then developed at great length and the article concluded with the statement that the _Record_ was a.s.sisting the police in a strenuous endeavor to find the guilty woman.
Now that the police knew in which quarter to spread their net, I had little doubt that she would soon be found, since she had tempted providence by remaining in town.
Mr. Graham and Mr. Royce were looking through the _Record_ article when I reached the office, and I explained to them how the alleged interview had been secured. They laughed together in appreciation of G.o.dfrey's audacious enterprise.
"It seems a pretty strong theory," said our senior. "I'm inclined to believe it myself."
I pointed out how it explained Miss Holladay's reticence--her refusal to a.s.sist us in proving an alibi. Mr. Royce nodded.
"Precisely. As G.o.dfrey said, the theory touches every point of the case. According to the old police axiom, that proves it's the right one."
CHAPTER VII
Miss Holladay Becomes Capricious
The body of Hiram Holladay was placed beside that of his wife in his granite mausoleum at Woodlawn on the Sunday following his death; two days later, his will, which had been drawn up by Mr. Graham and deposited in the office safe, was read and duly admitted to probate.
As was expected, he had left all his property, without condition or reserve, to his daughter Frances. There were a few bequests to old servants, Rogers receiving a handsome legacy; about half a million was given to various charities in which he had been interested during his life, and the remainder was placed at the absolute disposal of his daughter.
We found that his fortune had been over-estimated, as is usually the case with men whose wealth depends upon the fluctuations of the Street, but there still remained something over four millions for the girl--a pretty dowry. She told us at once that she wished to leave her affairs in our hands, and in financial matters would be guided entirely by our advice. Most of this business was conducted by our junior, and while, of course, he told me nothing, it was evident that Miss Holladay's kindly feelings toward him had suffered no diminution.
The whole office was more or less conversant with the affair, and wished him success and happiness.
So a week or ten days pa.s.sed. The utmost endeavor of newspapers and police had shed no new light on the tragedy, and for the great public it had pa.s.sed into the background of the forgotten. But for me, at least, it remained of undiminished interest, and more than once I carefully reviewed its features to convince myself anew that our theory was the right one. Only one point occurred to me which would tend to prove it untrue. If there was an illegitimate daughter, the blow she had dealt her father had also deprived her of whatever income he had allowed her, or of any hope of income from him. So she had acted in her own despite--still, G.o.dfrey's theory of sudden pa.s.sion might explain this away. And then, again, Miss Holladay could probably be counted upon, her first grief past, to provide suitably for her sister. Granting this, the theory seemed to me quite impregnable.
One other thing puzzled me. How had this woman eluded the police? I knew that the French quarter had been ransacked for traces of her, wholly without success, and yet I felt that the search must have been misconducted, else some trace of her would surely have been discovered. Miss Holladay, of course, rigidly refused herself to all inquirers, and here, again, I found myself on the horns of a dilemma.
Doubtless, she was very far from wishing the discovery of the guilty woman, and yet I felt that she must be discovered, if only for Miss Holladay's sake, in order to clear away the last vestige of the cloud that shadowed her.
Then came new developments with a startling rapidity. It was toward quitting time one afternoon that a clerk brought word into the inner office that there was a woman without who wished to see Mr. Royce at once. She had given no name, but our junior, who happened to be at leisure for the moment, directed that she be shown in. I recognized her in an instant, and so did he--it was Miss Holladay's maid. I saw, too, that her eyes were red with weeping, and as she sat down beside our junior's desk she began to cry afresh.
"Why, what's the matter?" he demanded. "Nothing wrong with your mistress?"
"She aint my mistress any more," sobbed the girl. "She discharged me this afternoon."
"Discharged you!" echoed our junior. "Why, I thought she thought so much of you?"
"And so did I, sir, but she discharged me just the same."
"But what for?" persisted the other.
"That's just what I don't know, sir; I begged and prayed her to tell me, but she wouldn't even see me. So I came down here. I thought maybe you could help me."
"Well, let me hear about it just as it happened," said Mr. Royce soothingly. "Perhaps I _can_ help you."
"Oh, if you could, sir!" she cried. "You know, I thought the world and all of Miss Frances. I've been with her nearly eight years, and for her to go and treat me like this--why, it just breaks my heart, sir! I dressed her this afternoon about two o'clock, and she was as nice to me as ever--gave me a little brooch, sir, that she was tired of. Then she went out for a drive, and about an hour ago came back. I went right up to her room to undress her, and when I knocked, sir, a strange woman came to the door and said that Miss Frances had engaged her for her maid and wouldn't need me any more, and here was a month's wages. And while I stood there, sir, too dazed to move, she shut the door in my face. After I'd got over it a bit, I begged that I might see Miss Frances, if only to say good-by; but she wouldn't see me. She sent word that she wasn't feeling well, and wouldn't be disturbed."
Her sobs mastered her again and she stopped. I could see the look of amazement on our junior's face, and did not wonder at it. What sudden dislike could her mistress have conceived against this inoffensive and devoted creature?
"You say this other maid was a stranger?" he asked.
"Yes, sir; she'd never been in the house before, so far as I know.
Miss Frances brought her back with her in the carriage."
"And what sort of looking woman is she?"
The girl hesitated.
"She looked like a foreigner, sir," she said at last. "A Frenchwoman, maybe, by the way she rolls her r's."
I p.r.i.c.ked up my ears. The same thought occurred at that instant to both Mr. Royce and myself.
"Does she resemble Miss Holladay?" he asked quickly.
"Miss Holladay? Oh, no, sir. She's much older--her hair's quite gray."
Well, certainly, Miss Holladay had the right to choose any maid she pleased, and to discharge any or all of her servants; and yet it seemed strangely unlike her to show such seeming injustice to anyone.
"You say she sent down word that she was ill?" said Mr. Royce, at last. "Was she ill when you dressed her?"
"Why, sir," she answered slowly, "I wouldn't exactly say she was ill, but she seemed troubled about something. I think she'd been crying.
She's been crying a good deal, off and on, since her father died, poor thing," she added.
That would explain it, certainly; and yet grief for her father might not be the only cause of Frances Holladay's tears.
"But she didn't seem vexed with you?"
"Oh, no, sir; she gave me a brooch, as I told you."