"Isn"t it--but no! Why should I be the one to offer a suggestion that might be construed as a defence for this woman?"
"You were about to suggest, madam, that some one else might have taken the valuables--is that it?" cried the sheriff.
"Had you thought of it, Mr. Sheriff?"
"I had not. It isn"t reasonable. No one about this place is suspected.
We have thought of this, however: the murderess may have taken all of these things away with her in order to prevent immediate identification of her victim. She may have been clever enough for that. It would give her a start."
"Not an unreasonable conclusion, when you stop to consider, Mr.
Sheriff, that the man took the initiative in that very particular,"
said Mrs. Wrandall in such a self-contained way that the three men looked at her in wonder. Then she came abruptly to her feet. "It is very late, gentlemen. I am ready to go upstairs, Mr. Sheriff."
"I must warn you, madam, that Mr. Drake is reasonably certain that it is your husband," said the coroner uncomfortably. "You may not be prepared for the shock that--"
"I shall not faint, Dr. Sheef. If it IS my husband I shall ask you to leave me alone in the room with him for a little while." The final word trailed out into a long, tremulous wail, showing how near she was to the breaking point in her wonderful effort at self-control.
The men looked away hastily. They heard her draw two or three deep, quavering breaths; they could almost feel the tension that she was exercising over herself.
The doctor turned after a moment and spoke very gently, but with professional firmness. "You must not think of venturing out in this wretched night, madam. It would be the worst kind of folly. Surely you will be guided by me--by your own common sense. Mrs. Burton will be with you--"
"Thank you, Dr. Sheef," she interposed calmly. "If what we all fear should turn out to be the truth, I could not stay here. I could not breathe. I could not live. If, on the other hand, Mr. Drake is mistaken, I shall stay. But if it is my husband, I cannot remain under the same roof with him, even though he be dead. I do not expect you to understand my feelings. It would be asking too much of men,--too much."
"I think I understand," murmured Drake.
"Come," said the sheriff, arousing himself with an effort.
She moved swiftly after him. Drake and the coroner, following close behind with Mrs. Burton, could not take their eyes from the slender, graceful figure. She was a revelation to them. Feeling as they did that she was about to be confronted by the most appalling crisis imaginable, they could not but marvel at her composure.
Drake"s mind dwelt on the stories of the guillotine and the heroines who went up to it in those b.l.o.o.d.y days without so much as a quiver of dread. Somehow, to him, this woman was a heroine.
They pa.s.sed into the hall and mounted the stairs. At the far end of the corridor, a man was seated in front of a closed door. He arose as the party approached. The sheriff signed for him to open the door he guarded. As he did so, a chilly blast of air blew upon the faces of those in the hall. The curtains in the window of the room were flapping and whipping in the wind. Mrs. Wrandall caught her breath. For the briefest instant, it seemed as though she was on the point of faltering. She dropped farther behind the sheriff, her limbs suddenly stiff, her hand going out to the wall as if for support. The next moment she was moving forward resolutely into the icy, dimly lighted room.
A single electric light gleamed in the corner beside the bureau.
Near the window stood the bed. She went swiftly toward it, her eyes fastened upon the ridge that ran through the centre of it: a still, white ridge that seemed without beginning or end.
With nervous fingers, the attendant lifted the sheet at the head of the bed and turned it back. As he let it fall across the chest of the dead man, he drew back and turned his face away.
She bent forward and then straightened her figure to its full height, without for an instant removing her gaze from the face of the man who lay before her: a dark-haired man grey in death, who must have been beautiful to look upon in the flush of life.
For a long time she stood there looking, as motionless as the object on which she gazed. Behind her were the tense, keen-eyed men, not one of whom seemed to breathe during the grim minutes that pa.s.sed.
The wind howled about the corners of the inn, but no one heard it.
They heard the beating of their hearts, even the ticking of their watches, but not the wail of the wind.
At last her hands, claw-like in their tenseness, went slowly to her temples. Her head drooped slightly forward, and a great shudder ran through her body. The coroner started forward, expecting her to collapse.
"Please go away," she was saying in an absolutely emotionless voice.
"Let me stay here alone for a little while."
That was all. The men relaxed. They looked at each other with a single question in their eyes. Was it quite safe to leave her alone with her dead? They hesitated.
She turned on them suddenly, spreading her arms in a wide gesture of self-absolution. Her sombre eyes swept the group.
"I can do no harm. This man is mine. I want to look at him for the last time--alone. Will you go?"
"Do you mean, madam, that you intend to--" began the coroner in alarm.
She clasped her hands. "I mean that I shall take my last look at him now--and here. Then you may do what you like with him. He is your dead--not mine. I do not want him. Can you understand? _I_ DO NOT WANT THIS DEAD THING. But there is something I would say to him, something that I must say. Something that no one must hear but the good G.o.d who knows how much he has hurt me. I want to say it close to those grey, horrid ears. Who knows? He may hear me!"
Wondering, the others backed from the room. She watched them until they closed the door.
Listening, they heard her lower the window. It squealed like a thing in fear.
Ten minutes pa.s.sed. The group in the hall conversed in whispers.
"Why did she put the window down?" asked the wife of the inn-keeper, crossing herself.
Drake shook his head. "I wonder what she is saying to him," he muttered.
"A wonderful nerve," said Dr. Sheef. "Positively wonderful. I"ve never seen anything like it."
"Her own husband, too," said Mrs. Burton. "Why, I--I should have said she"d go into hysterics. Such a handsome man he was."
"I guess, from what I"ve heard of this fellow, Wrandall, he"s not been an angel," volunteered the sheriff.
Drake shook his head once more.
"He ain"t one now, I"ll bet on that," said the man who stood guard.
"He"s in h.e.l.l if ever a man--"
"Sh!" whispered the woman in horror. "G.o.d forgive you for uttering words like that!"
"Every one in the city knows what sort of a man he"s been," said Drake.
"He comes of a fine family," said the coroner. "One of the best in New York. I guess he"s never been much of a credit to it, however."
"They say he ran after chorus girls," said Mrs. Burton. The men grinned.
"I"ve an idea she"s had the devil"s own time with him," mused the sheriff, with a jerk of his head in the direction of the door.
"Poor thing," said the inn-keeper"s wife.
"Well," said Drake, taking a deep breath, "she won"t have to worry any more about his not coming home nights. I say, this business will create a fearful sensation, sheriff. The Four Hundred will have a conniption fit."
"We"ve got to land that girl, whoever she is," grated the official.
"Now that we know who he is, it shouldn"t be hard to pick out the women he"s been trailing with lately. Then we can sift "em down until the right one is left. It ought to be easy."
"I"m not so sure of it," said the coroner, shaking his head. "I have a feeling that she isn"t one of the ordinary type. It wouldn"t surprise me if she belongs to--well, you might say, the upper ten.
Somebody"s wife, don"t you see. That will make it rather difficult, especially as her tracks have been pretty well covered."
"It beats me, how she got away without leaving a single sign behind her," acknowledged the sheriff. "She"s a wonder, that"s all I"ve got to say."