The Deep Lake Mystery

He looked loweringly at the Coroner, at Mrs. Dallas and at Alma. But none of them called forth a varying expression to his grumpy face.

The audience began to disperse, and Ames came directly to Keeley Moore.

“Are you going to take this case?” he asked, in a threatening rather than an urgent manner.

Moore looked at him. Knowing Kee as I did, I could read his thoughts pretty well, and I realized that he was torn between his great desire to investigate this intriguing problem and his disinclination to do it at Ames’s behest.

Yet he couldn’t ignore Harper Ames and take up the case on his own.

“Yes,” he said, deciding quickly, “yes, Mr. Ames, I am most desirous of doing so.”

“Then, go ahead, in your own way,” and for almost the first time, I saw Harper Ames look pleased. “Conduct it as you like, and report to me at your convenience.”

“I understand, then,” Moore said, looking at him closely, “I am to have carte blanche in my manner of procedure, and I am to pursue my investigations no matter in what direction they may lead me?”

I saw a quick spasm of fear flash into Ames’s eyes, but it vanished as quickly, and he said, suavely:

“Yes, Mr. Moore. Stop at nothing to get at the truth.”

He’s the villain, I told myself. He is so sure of his diabolical cleverness, that he thinks he has left no clue and has completely covered his tracks! God help him, when Keeley Moore gets on his trail!

We went into Mr. Tracy’s office, a pleasant room off the library.

There were three fine desks, Tracy’s own, and those of the secretaries.

Moore had told me to come along, and as Ames made no objection, I did so. The three of us, behind closed doors, ran over the salient details.

“I can offer no sort of explanation of the absurd decorations on the bed,” Ames said, “that is your province.”

He spoke in a quick, jerky way, as if anxious to delegate the whole matter to Moore and be rid of it once for all.

“Once get the main issues of the affair, and those things will explain themselves,” Keeley said, nonchalantly. “Whom do you suspect, Mr. Ames?”

Harper Ames gave a start, and looked up as if he had not heard aright.

“Suspect? I? Oh, nobody. I can’t conceive of a human being brutal enough to commit this crime as it was committed. But somebody did, and so, I hope you can bring about his arrest and conviction. Spare no expense – ”

“This is not going to be an expensive case, Mr. Ames,” Moore told him. “It must be solved by clever work, not by buying up evidence. I admit that sounds rather boastful on my part, but I confess that I am taking up the matter principally because of its unusual features and its bizarre elements. I mean to do my best, and while I shall rely on having your help when and where it may be available, yet I think the most of my work will be done by myself alone.”

Again Harper Ames showed that strange gleam of fear in his eyes, but now I thought he feared for some one other than himself. Was he shielding some one? I knew evidence was often misleading because of the desire of some one to protect some one else. But so far, there was not enough evidence even to predicate this.

“Very well,” Ames continued. “Work on your own lines. Be as expeditious as possible, but omit no effort. By the terms of Mr. Tracy’s will, I shall be in a position to compensate you for your time, and your bill will be paid whether you succeed or not.”

“And you have no hint to offer? No advice as to which way to look?”

“I have not. I will only say, it seems to me quite possible that the killing of Mr. Tracy and the strange business of the flowers and oranges may not be the work of the same hand.”

“That has occurred to me, too,” Kee said. “Now, I don’t want to seem insistent, but do tell me your opinion as to the servants.”

“I’m not sure.” Ames seemed thoughtful. “I can’t suspect any wrong of Griscom; he’s a faithful old soul, yet he does want his money. Little home on a farm and all that. If he is mixed up in this thing, look out for Bray. She is infatuated with Griscom – ”

“And he with her?”

“That I don’t know. And it may be only my imagination. The cook is too stupid to do anything really wrong. She has no thought save for her kitchen and household. The other servants I don’t know very well. Find out for yourself.”

“I shall,” and Kee smiled. “Don’t think I expect you to hire a dog and then do your own barking. As to the secretaries?”

Though he said this with a most casual air, I knew Moore was listening intently for the reply.

“As to that I can say nothing at all,” Ames returned, gravely. “I wouldn’t say a word that might inculpate an innocent man. Nor do I say that I think them other than innocent. But you must look it all up, you must weigh and sift and decide for yourself.”

“Yes,” and Kee nodded his head, “that’s what detectives are for.”

“Then go to it. Of course, you are free of this house. Any other place you wish to go, you must get permission for yourself. Try to be as expeditious as possible.”

I had warmed to Ames. He seemed more of our own sort than I had thought him. But as he rose, thus tacitly dismissing us, his grumpiness returned, and he made a pettish gesture of annoyance at the whole situation.

“Rotten thing to happen!” he exclaimed. “Just now, too, when there were so many crises pending.”

“I think I ought to know of those crises, Mr. Ames,” Moore said, decidedly.

“Oh, nothing that you don’t already know,” Ames pulled himself up. But I was sure that this time he was not strictly truthful. “Only Mr. Tracy’s approaching marriage and – ”

“Yes, and?”

“Nothing, save some financial matters that are in the lawyers’ hands.”

Ames was suave again, and I realized that his little burst of anger had been impulsive and was now regretted.

So we left him, and Moore said, as he bowed us out, that we would take a look round Mr. Tracy’s apartments upstairs.

“Not just now,” Ames said. “They are about to take the body away.”

“That won’t matter. We won’t incommode them,” and grasping my arm, Moore fairly hustled me along with him toward the staircase.

We went up to the wing containing the luxurious suite of the dead man.

Looking at it more critically than before, I was delighted with its beautiful furnishings and appointments. We paused in the sitting room, for the undertaker’s men were in the bedroom.

Moore began to scrutinize the room. He did not get down on his hands and knees, and show the accepted detective demeanour of “a hound on the scent.” But he went about the room with his quick eyes darting here and there for possible indication of an intruder.

The usual appurtenances of the master’s occupancy he left apparently unnoticed, but he examined the door sill and the window sills.

The windows, there were two large ones, gave on the lake, or rather, on that dark pool-like stretch of water called the Sunless Sea.

“Come and look out here, Norris,” he said. “Can you imagine any one jumping or diving into that bottomless pit?”

“Yes,” I returned, “I can easily imagine it. But he would have to be a master diver and a master swimmer. Also, a fearless man and a desperate one.”