With a look almost of triumph Avery turned to Harriet Santoine, and Eaton felt his flesh grow warm with grat.i.tude again as he saw her meet Avery"s look with no appearance of being convinced.
"Mr. Eaton spoke to me about that," she said quietly.
"You mean he told you he was the one who rang the bell?"
"No; he told me we must not attach too much importance to the ringing of the bell in inquiring into the attack on Father."
Avery smiled grimly. "He did, did he? Don"t you see that that only shows more surely that he did not want the ringing of the bell investigated because it would lead us to himself? He did not happen to tell you, did he, that the kind and size of socks he wears and carries in his traveling-bag are very nearly the same as the black sock in which the bar was wrapped with which your father was struck?"
"It was you, then, who took the sock from my bag?" Eaton demanded.
"It was the conductor, and I can a.s.sure you, Mr. Eaton-Hillward, that we are preserving it very carefully along with the one which was found in the snow."
"But the socks were not exactly the same, were they?" Harriet Santoine asked.
Avery made a vexed gesture, and turned to Connery. "Tell her the rest of it," he directed.
Connery, who had remained standing back of the two chairs, moved slightly forward. His responsibility in connection with the crime that had been carried out on his train had weighed heavily on the conductor; he was worn and nervous.
"Where shall I begin?" he asked of Avery; he was looking not at the girl but at Eaton.
"At the beginning," Avery directed.
"Mr. Eaton, when you came to this train, the gateman at Seattle called my attention to you," Connery began. "I didn"t attach enough importance, I see now, to what he said; I ought to have watched you closer and from the first. Old Sammy has recognized men with criminal records time and time again. He"s got seven rewards out of it."
Eaton felt his pulses close with a shock. "He recognized me?" he asked quietly.
"No, he didn"t; he couldn"t place you," Connery granted. "He couldn"t tell whether you were somebody that was "wanted" or some one well known--some one famous, maybe; but I ought to have kept my eye on you because of that, from the very start. Now this morning you claim a telegram meant for another man--a man named Hillward, on this train, who seems to be all right--that is, by his answers and his account of himself he seems to be exactly what he claims to be."
"Did he read the telegram to you?" Eaton asked. "It was in code. If it was meant for him, he ought to be able to read it."
"No, he didn"t. Will you?"
Eaton halted while he recalled the exact wording of the message. "No."
Connery also paused.
"Is this all you have against me?" Eaton asked.
"No; it"s not. Mr. Avery"s already told you the next thing, and you"ve admitted it. But we"d already been able by questioning the porter of this car and the ones in front and back of it to narrow down the time of the ringing of Mr. Santoine"s bell not to quarter-hours but to minutes; and to find out that during those few minutes you were the only one who pa.s.sed through the car. So there"s no use of my going into that." Connery paused and looked to Avery and the girl. "You"ll wait a minute, Mr. Avery; and you, Miss Santoine. I won"t be long."
He left the washroom, and the sound of the closing of a door which came to Eaton a half-minute later told that he had gone out the front end of the car.
As the three sat waiting in the washroom, no one spoke. Eaton, looking past Avery, gazed out the window at the bank of snow. Eaton understood fully that the manner in which the evidence against him was being presented to him was not with any expectation that he could defend himself; Avery and Connery were obviously too certain of their conclusion for that; rather, as it was being given thus under Avery"s direction, it was for the effect upon Harriet Santoine and to convince her fully. But Eaton had understood this from the first. It was for this reason he had not attempted to deny having rung Santoine"s bell, realizing that if he denied it and it afterwards was proved, he would appear in a worse light than by his inability to account for or a.s.sign a reason for his act. And he had proved right in this; for the girl had not been convinced. So now he comprehended that something far more convincing and more important was to come; but what that could be, he could not guess.
As he glanced at her, he saw her sitting with hands clasped in her lap, pale, and merely waiting. Avery, as though impatient, had got up and gone to the door, where he could look out into the pa.s.sage. From time to time people had pa.s.sed through the car, but no one had stopped at the washroom door or looked in; the voices in the washroom had not been raised, and even if what was going on there could have attracted momentary attention, the instructions to pa.s.s quickly through the car would have prevented any one from stopping to gratify his curiosity.
Eaton"s heart-beat quickened as, listening, he heard the car door open and close again and footsteps, coming to them along the aisle, which he recognized as those of Conductor Connery and some one else with him.
Avery returned to his seat, as the conductor appeared in the door of the washroom followed by the Englishman from Eaton"s car, Henry Standish. Connery carried the sheet on which he had written the questions he had asked Eaton, and Eaton"s answers.
"What name were you using, Mr. Eaton, when you came from Asia to the United States?" the conductor demanded.
Eaton reflected. "My own," he said. "Philip D. Eaton."
Connery brought the paper nearer to the light of the window, running his finger down it till he found the note he wanted. "When I asked this afternoon where you came from in Asia, Mr. Eaton, you answered me something like this: You said you could give me no address abroad; you had been traveling most of the time; you could not be placed by inquiring at any city or hotel; you came to Seattle by the Asiatic steamer and took this train. That was your reply, was it not?"
"Yes," Eaton answered.
"The "Asiatic steamer"--the _Tamba Maru_ that was, Mr. Eaton."
Eaton looked up quickly and was about to speak; but from Connery his gaze shifted swiftly to the Englishman, and checking himself, he said nothing.
"Mr. Standish,"--Connery faced the Englishman,--"you came from Yokohama to Seattle on the _Tamba Maru_, didn"t you?"
"I did, yes."
"Do you remember this Mr. Eaton among the pa.s.sengers?"
"No."
"Do you know he was not among the pa.s.sengers?"
"Yes, I do."
"How do you know?"
The Englishman took a folded paper from his pocket, opened it and handed it to the conductor. Connery, taking it, held it out to Eaton.
"Here, Mr. Eaton," he said, "is the printed pa.s.senger-list of the people aboard the _Tamba Maru_ prepared after leaving Yokohama for distribution among the pa.s.sengers. It"s unquestionably correct. Will you point out your name on it?"
Eaton made no move to take the paper; and after holding it long enough to give him full opportunity, Connery handed it back to the Englishman.
"That"s all, Mr. Standish," he said.
Eaton sat silent as the Englishman, after staring curiously around at them with his bulging, interested eyes, left the washroom.
"Now, Mr. Eaton," Connery said, as the sound of Standish"s steps became inaudible, "either you were not on the _Tamba Maru_ or you were on it under some other name than Eaton. Which was it?"
"I never said I was on the _Tamba Maru_," Eaton returned steadily. "I said I came from Asia by steamer. You yourself supplied the name _Tamba Maru_."
"In case of questioning like that, Mr. Eaton, it makes no difference whether you said it or I supplied it in your hearing. If you didn"t correct me, it was because you wanted me to get a wrong impression about you. You can take notice that the only definite fact about you put down on this paper has proved to be incorrect. You weren"t on the _Tamba Maru_, were you?"
"No, I was not."
"Why didn"t you say so while Mr. Standish was here?"
"I didn"t know how far you had taken him into your confidence in this matter."