Kent cast about rapidly in his mind, as he walked along with the car, for some one who might be a common acquaintance. He mentioned the name of a very great psychologist at Harvard. "Do you know him?" he asked.
"Yes. He is my mother"s half-brother."
"And my valued friend," he cried. "May I get him to bring me?" He was almost running now beside the window.
"Yes," she a.s.sented. "If you insist. But I will hear no word of-of your friend."
"I understand. Agreed," called Kent. "To-morrow morning, then."
And he walked, whistling a melancholious theme, to the platform. Another whistle answered his. It was that of his train, disappearing around the curve a mile down the track.
Belated, but elated, Kent, after some inquiries, reached his destination by an intricate exchange of trolley lines, and went direct to Cambridge.
He found his friend, one of the finest and profoundest philosophers of his time, sitting in a closed house over a game of that form of solitaire appropriately denominated "Idiot"s Delight."
"Very soothing to the mind," murmured the professor, after welcoming his guest. "So many matters turn out wrong in this world that one finds relief in a problem which usually turns out right."
"I"ve a little problem of my own which may or may not turn out right,"
said Kent, "and I want your help."
"It is long since you have done me the honor to consult me," said the old scholar, smiling. "Not, indeed, since the instance of the cabinet member who was obsessed with a maniacal hatred of apples."
"Without you, I should never have so much as approached the solution of Mr. Carolan"s recall," returned Kent. "But this present affair calls for aid, not advice."
"Either is equally at your service," replied the philosopher courteously.
Kent outlined the case to him.
"You see," he said, "there is an obvious connection between the unknown body on the beach, and the Blair tragedy."
"Poor Marjorie!" exclaimed the old man. "For her marriage I blame myself, largely. When Marjorie Dorrance was left an orphan, I was her nearest relative of an age and position such as to const.i.tute a moral claim of guardianship. She visited here when she was eighteen; came like a flood of sunlight into this house. A beautiful vivid girl, half-child, half-woman; with a beautiful vivid mind. For her mother"s sake, if not for her own, I should have watched over her, and warded her against the danger of an "advantageous" marriage, such as is always imminent in the set which she entered. Ah, well, I live among the dust and cobwebs of my own dim interests-and when I returned from one of my journeys into the past, I found that Marjorie was engaged to that wretched creature. Now, he is dead. Let be. I have seen little of her in late years. G.o.d grant the life with him has not crushed out of her all her sweetness and happiness."
"While I am no judge of women," said Kent judicially, "I should venture to aver that it hasn"t. But about calling on her-my being a stranger, you see-and in the first days of her widowhood-social conventions, and that sort of thing."
The old scholar made a sweeping gesture of surprising swiftness, suggesting incongruously the possession of great muscular power. The cards flew far and wide, from the stand.
"Mist and moonshine, my dear sir! Moonshine and mist! Marjorie is one of those rare human beings who deal honestly with themselves. Her husband"s death can be nothing but a welcome release. She feels no grief; she will pretend to none. Not even to herself. I will take you to her to-morrow."
"Blair ill-treated her?" asked Kent.
"Oh, ill-treatment! That is a wide term. I believe that the poor weakling did his best to keep faith and honor. But ropes of mud are strong. Those with which he had bound himself drew him resistlessly back to the sewers. Hers was but a marriage of glamour, at best. And, at the first scent of foulness in her nostrils, it became only a marriage of law. Society does her the justice to believe her faithful to him, and praises the devotion with which, since his breakdown and retirement, she has given up her world to devote herself to his care. Essentially the girl is Puritan in her concepts of duty."
"Does she know anything of the manner of Blair"s death?"
"No one knows much of it, from what I understand, unless it be Alexander Blair. One of the family, who went to Hedgerow House for the funeral, called upon me, as a courtesy due to Mrs. Blair"s nearest relative.
Alexander Blair, he said, was reticent; his dread of publicity is notorious. But from what he, the relative, could ascertain, the affair was substantially this: On the evening before the woman"s body was found, Wilfrid Blair, who had been exhibiting symptoms of melancholia, left the house secretly. No one saw him go; but, about the time that he left, the unknown woman was seen in the vicinity of Hedgerow House."
"By whom?"
"By a half-breed Indian, a devoted servant of the family, who was practically young Blair"s body-servant."
"Gansett Jim! That helps to explain."
"Whether or not Wilfrid Blair had arranged a meeting with this woman is not known. As you know, she was found with her skull crushed, on the sea beach. Blair was afterward discovered by his half-breed servant, mortally injured, and was brought home to die."
"That is Alexander Blair"s version of the tragedy?"
"As I understand it."
"Well, it"s ingenious."
"But untrue?"
"In one vital particular, at least."
"Are you at liberty to state what it is?"
"Wilfrid Blair never was brought home."
"Ah? In any case, Alexander Blair is striving to conceal some scandal, the nature of which I have no wish to guess. By the way, I should have added that he suspects a third person, an artist, resident not far from his place, of being his son"s a.s.sailant."
"Francis Sedgwick."
"You know the man?"
"It is on his behalf that I am acting," replied Kent.
"My informant, however, inclines to the belief that Alexander Blair is wrong: that Wilfrid Blair killed the woman and then inflicted mortal wounds upon himself. Perhaps you would better see my informant for yourself."
"Unnecessary, thank you. Mr. Blair is not telling quite all that he knows. Nevertheless, the theory which he propounds as to his son"s a.s.sailant, is natural enough, from his point of view. Although," added Kent thoughtfully, "it will be most unfortunate if it leads him to distrust Mrs. Blair."
"Marjorie? Am I to infer that her good name is involved?" demanded the old man.
"Hardly her good name. Mr. Blair believes-if I correctly follow his mental processes-that Francis Sedgwick met his son on the night of the tragedy, by chance or otherwise, and that in the encounter which he believes followed, Wilfrid Blair was killed. Unfortunately, some color of motive is lent to this by the fact that Sedgwick had fallen desperately in love with Mrs. Blair."
"Impossible! Marjorie is not the woman to permit such a thing."
"Without blame to her, or, indeed, to either of them. She also believes, now, that Sedgwick killed her husband."
"And-and she was interested in your friend?" asked the old scholar slowly.
"I fear-that is, I trust so."
"You trust so? With this horror standing between them!"
"It must be cleared away," said Kent earnestly. "Circ.u.mstantial evidence is against Sedgwick: but, I give you my word, sir, it is wholly impossible that he should have killed your niece"s husband."
"To doubt your certainty would be cra.s.sly stupid. And are you hopeful of clearing up the circ.u.mstances?"