Mr. Gryce possesses one faculty1 for which I envy him, and that is his skill in the management of people. He had not been in Miss Althorpe's house five minutes before he had won her confidence and had everything he wished at his command. I had to talk some time before getting so far, but he—a word and a look did it.
Miss Oliver, for whom I hesitated to inquire, lest I should again find her gone or in a worse condition than when I left, was in reality better, and as we went up-stairs I allowed myself to hope that the questions which had so troubled us would soon be answered and the mystery ended.
But Mr. Gryce evidently knew better, for when we reached her door he turned and said:
"Our task will not be an easy one. Go in first and attract her attention so that I can enter unobserved. I wish to study her before addressing her; but, mind, no words about the murder; leave that to me."
I nodded, feeling that I was falling back into my own place; and knocking softly entered the room.
A maid was sitting with her. Seeing me, she rose and advanced, saying:
"Miss Oliver is sleeping."[Pg 322]
"Then I will relieve you," I returned, beckoning2 Mr. Gryce to come in.
The girl left us and we two contemplated3 the sick woman silently. Presently I saw Mr. Gryce shake his head. But he did not tell me what he meant by it.
Following the direction of his finger, I sat down in a chair at the head of the bed; he took his station at the side of it in a large arm-chair he saw there. As he did so I saw how fatherly and kind he really looked, and wondered if he was in the habit of so preparing himself to meet the eye of all the suspected criminals he encountered. The thought made me glance again her way. She lay like a statue, and her face, naturally round but now thinned out and hollow, looked up from the pillow in pitiful quiet, the long lashes4 accentuating5 the dark places under her eyes.
A sad face, the saddest I ever saw and one of the most haunting.
He seemed to find it so also, for his expression of benevolent6 interest deepened with every passing moment, till suddenly she stirred; then he gave me a warning glance, and stooping, took her by the wrist and pulled out his watch.
She was deceived by the action. Opening her eyes, she surveyed him languidly for a moment, then heaving a great sigh, turned aside her head.
"Don't tell me I am better, doctor. I do not want to live."
The plaintive7 tone, the refined accent, seemed to astonish him. Laying down her hand, he answered gently:
"I do not like to hear that from such young lips, but it assures me that I was correct in my first surmise,[Pg 323] that it is not medicine you need but a friend. And I can be that friend if you will but allow me."
Moved, encouraged for the instant, she turned her head from side to side, probably to see if they were alone, and not observing me, answered softly:
"You are very good, very thoughtful, doctor, but"—and here her despair returned again—"it is useless; you can do nothing for me."
"You think so," remonstrated8 the old detective, "but you do not know me, child. Let me show you that I can be of benefit to you." And he drew from his pocket a little package which he opened before her astonished eyes. "Yesterday, in your delirium9, you left these rings in an office down-town. As they are valuable, I have brought them back to you. Wasn't I right, my child?"
"No! no!" She started up, and her accents betrayed terror and anguish10, "I do not want them; I cannot bear to see them; they do not belong to me; they belong to them."
"To them? Whom do you mean by them?" queried11 Mr. Gryce, insinuatingly12.
"The—the Van Burnams. Is not that the name? Oh, do not make me talk; I am so weak! Only take the rings back."
"I will, child, I will." Mr. Gryce's voice was more than fatherly now, it was tender, really and sincerely tender. "I will take them back; but to which of the brothers shall I return them? To"—he hesitated softly—"to Franklin or to Howard?"
I expected to hear her respond, his manner was so gentle and apparently13 sincere. But though feverish14 and on the verge15 of wildness, she had still some command[Pg 324] over herself, and after giving him a look, the intensity16 of which called out a corresponding expression on his face, she faltered17 out:
"I—I don't care; I don't know either of the gentlemen; but to the one you call Howard, I think."
The pause which followed was filled by the tap-tap of Mr. Gryce's fingers on his knee.
"That is the one who is in custody," he observed at last. "The other, that is Franklin, has gone scot-free thus far, I hear."
No answer from her close-shut lips.
He waited.
Still no answer.
"If you do not know either of these gentlemen," he insinuated18 at last, "how did you come to leave the rings at their office?"
"I knew their names—I inquired my way—It is all a dream now. Please, please do not ask me questions. O doctor! do you not see I cannot bear it?"
He smiled—I never could smile like that under any circumstances—and softly patted her hand.
"I see it makes you suffer," he acknowledged, "but I must make you suffer in order to do you any good. If you would tell me all you know about these rings——"
She passionately19 turned away her head.
"I might hope to restore you to health and happiness. You know with what they are associated?"
She made a slight motion.
"And that they are an invaluable20 clue to the murderer of Mrs. Van Burnam?"
Another motion.
"How then, my child, did you come to have them?"[Pg 325]
Her head, which was rolling to and fro on the pillow, stopped and she gasped22, rather than uttered:
............