The Luminous Face

“It is strange,” Belknap mused, “but there must be some explanation. For he did telephone. Your nurse took the message?”

“She did. And she is a most reliable woman. Whatever she reported as to that message, you may depend on as absolute truth. Nurse Jordan has been with me many years, and she is most punctilious in the repetition of messages.”

“Mightn’t he have telephoned after the first shot,” Pollard said, his air more that of one thinking aloud, than of one propounding a theory, “and then with a spasmodic gesture or something, have fired the second shot by accident?”

“The second shot was fired after the man was dead,” repeated Doctor Davenport, positively.

“Then there was a murderer,” Belknap said, “which fact we have decided upon anyway. And an unusually clever murderer, too.”

“But I can’t see it,” Millicent Lindsay said, speaking in a low moaning voice. “Why would anybody shoot my brother after he had already killed him? I can’t see any theory that would explain that.”

“Nor I,” declared the doctor. “It’s the queerest thing I ever knew.”

“Leave that point for the moment,” Belknap advised, “if we get other facts they may throw light on that. Do any of you think that Mr Gleason,” he glanced furtively at Mrs Lindsay to see if he might go on, “was acquainted with – with young ladies – ”

“Not in our set?” cried Louis; “he most assuredly was. Now you’re getting on the right tack! You don’t mind this talk, Millicent?”

“No; go on,” returned Mrs Lindsay. “I want to know the truth. And, of course, my brother was no saint. Moreover, if he chose to entertain chorus girls or that sort of people he had a perfect right to do so. I’m not surprised or shocked at anything of that kind. But if they were in any way responsible for his death, I want to know it. Do you know anything definite, Louis?”

“No,” was the reply, but the youth went white.

Belknap studied his face, feeling sure that to go white was not absolutely unusual with the young man. He was apparently anaemic, unstrung, and very emotional. His lips twitched, and he curled and uncurled his fingers.

As a matter of fact, Belknap was looking toward Louis as a possible suspect. Though, as yet, he had no reason for such a suspicion.

“I do,” said Phyllis Lindsay, speaking for the first time during this discussion. “I know he was intimate with some moving picture actresses. He had their photographs in his rooms.”

“When were you there last?” asked Belknap suddenly.

“I don’t know – about a week ago, I think. I called in one day to see a new picture Mr Gleason had just bought.”

Her face was slightly flushed, but she was cool and composed of manner. Belknap despaired of getting any real information here.

Doctor Davenport looked at Phyllis.

“Did you leave anything there?” he asked abruptly.

“Leave anything?” she repeated.

“Yes,” impatiently. “Any of your belongings – wearing apparel?”

“Why, no,” the girl smiled. “I didn’t.”

“Sure?”

“Of course, I’m sure. Unless I dropped a handkerchief, maybe. I’m forever losing those.”

“You didn’t leave a fur collar?”

“Of course I didn’t! My fur collars are too valuable not to keep track of.”

“Then,” and Doctor Davenport drew from his bag a small fur neckpiece. “Then, I guess it’s my duty to show up this. It’s a thing,” he looked a bit embarrassed, “I picked up in Gleason’s room when I first went there last night. I thought it was yours, Phyllis, and I brought it to you.”

“Well, of all performances!” exclaimed Belknap, astonished.

“Oh, come now,” and Davenport smiled, “I meant to give it up sooner, but I forgot it. I only thought, if it should be Phyllis’, she’d rather know about it – ”

“All right, as long as I have it now,” and Belknap reached for the fur with an air of authority. “This may be the clew that will lead us straight to the murderer – or murderess.”

“It may,” agreed the doctor, “and it may set you off on the wrong track, hounding some poor little innocent girl!”

“Is it a valuable piece?” and Belknap held it out toward Phyllis.

“I don’t want to touch it,” she shrank back. “Please don’t make me.”

“Let me see it,” said Millicent reaching out a hand. “I’ll soon tell you.”

After a moment’s scrutiny she said, “It’s a fairly good fur, and it’s the latest style; what they call a choker. It’s new this season, but not worth more than thirty or forty dollars.”

“It might belong to ’most anybody, then,” mused Belknap.

“Yes,” said Millicent, “but you see by the label inside, it came from a shop patronized more by bargain hunters than by an exclusive class of customers.”

“Pointing to the less aristocratic type,” Belknap nodded. “Well, we must trace the owner of the collar. Where was it, Doctor?”

“In a chair in the room,” said Davenport, looking as sheepish as a censured schoolboy. “I was a fool I suppose, to take it, but I thought if it belonged to Miss Lindsay, it might lead to a lot of unpleasant notoriety for her – ”

“All right, all right,” Belknap shut off his apologies. “Now to find an owner for the fur. Any suggestions?”

He looked around the group, with a general survey, but really scanning Louis’ face, in hopes the boy might show some sign of recognition.

But it was from Pollard that the advice came, “Advertise.”

“Just what I planned to do,” Belknap said: “I’ll take the fur and advertise for its owner. An adroitly worded advertisement ought to bring results.”

There was little more conversation of importance, the attorney merely taking some notes of certain data he desired, and learning of the arrangements for the funeral which was to take place next day at the Funeral Rooms.

“I probably shan’t see you again, Mrs Lindsay, until after I hear from the advertisement,” Belknap told her.

“Oh, come to see me whenever you have any fresh evidence or any news,” she urged him. “After the funeral, may be too late. Follow up all trails – spare no effort. I may be a peculiar person, Mr Belknap, but I can’t help it. I never thought I was of a revengeful nature, but I think it is a righteous indignation that I have now. And I will do anything, spend any amount to find the murderer of my brother.”

“You are his heir?” Belknap asked, casually.

“I have not inquired into that as yet,” was the reply, spoken rather coldly. “I don’t even know whether my brother left a will or not. Mr Lane is his lawyer.”

“My question was not prompted by idle curiosity,” Belknap assured her, “but it is of importance to know who will benefit financially by the death of this rich man.”

“If he left no will,” Mrs Lindsay informed him, “I am the only heir. If he left a will, I’ve no idea as to its contents.”