The Luminous Face

“She doesn’t have to. Nobody really suspects her, and her affairs have no reason to be inquired into. That right, Barry?”

“Yes, of course. I think Phyllis would be wise to say where she was at the time. But, I say, Millicent, I’m going to get busy myself, and do a little detective work. Like you, I feel the investigations so far have led nowhere.”

“Have you a suspicion – ” began Louis.

“Not a suspicion, exactly, but a pretty strong notion of which way to look. I won’t say what it is, for I had another hunch, that pretty much fell through; but now I’m going to work on a new line, and I think I may unearth something.”

“You won’t,” said Millicent, despondently. “You’re all alike – dig up a lot of evidence and then never prove anything from it. Do tell me, Phil, what way your suspicions turn.”

“Why, yes, I’ll tell you, for I think you ought to be kept informed. I can’t help leaning to the chorus girl theory. I feel sure that fur collar was left by the girl at that time, and as I see it, she could have gone there with some man, a friend of hers who either was jealous of Mr Gleason, or who had it in for him for some other reason. Then suppose, in a quarrel, the man shot Gleason – perhaps Gleason threatened him – anyway, you can’t tell what occurred, but I’m going to find the girl.”

“You’re all wrong,” said Louis, and his voice was so full of concentrated passion that Barry looked up quickly.

“You’re all wrong,” Louis repeated; “the idea of a man shooting another man before a girl! Do have a little sense of probability, Barry.”

“I have, and it’s not an impossibility that the deed should have been committed before the girl witness. I’ve thought it all out. I don’t believe it was premeditated, but suppose the pair went there to settle a grievance and Mr Gleason lost his temper and threatened his visitor – the man – and in a quarrel, the pistol was flourished about, and the visitor grabbed it and shot, maybe in self-defense.”

“All theory,” scoffed Louis. “Nothing at all to back it up.”

“I’m going to find out,” Barry persisted. “I’m going to find the owner of that fur – ”

“I wish you wouldn’t, Phil.” Louis’ face was white and his voice trembled a little.

“Why, Louis,” Millicent exclaimed; “what’s the matter? Do you know anything about this business? Actually, from your agitation you might be unduly interested.”

“No! I don’t know anything about it, but I think it’s awful to hunt down some poor little innocent girl – ”

“I’m not hunting her – I’m hunting the man who was with her.”

“A purely imaginary man!” Louis exclaimed.

“So far. But if he doesn’t materialize, there’s no harm done.”

Just then, Phyllis came in with Manning Pollard.

“We’ve been for a walk,” she said, and the roses in her cheeks proved the good effects of the exercise. “Mr Pollard said I needed more outdoor air, so we walked forty-five blocks. I wish you’d go out, Millicent, it would do you good.”

“Come on, Mrs Lindsay,” Pollard suggested; “I’ll take you next.”

“Thank you, I may go some other time. Now, we’re discussing the case. Sit down, and tell us what you think, Mr Pollard.”

“My opinion is no secret. I incline to some earlier acquaintance of Mr Gleason’s. Perhaps some one from his Western home, or from anywhere. I’ve heard all the evidence that has been brought forward about any one of his New York acquaintances, and I must admit there’s not a shred of it worth considering. Indeed, there’s practically no evidence – do you know of any, Barry?”

“Only the fur collar,” said Barry, with a decided nod of his head. “I think, as that is the only piece of real, tangible evidence, it ought to be run to earth. I believe Prescott tried to do so, but his effort fell through, somehow. At any rate, I’m going to take up that clew, and see if I can’t get a line on the truth.”

“All rubbish,” Louis growled. “Tell him not to do it, Pollard.”

“Why should I do that?” Pollard asked. “If Barry’s sleuthing leads to anything, I’ll be glad of it. Like Mrs Lindsay, I want to know who did this thing. I don’t have much faith in the fur collar sign-board, myself, for I think the thing was left there by some little girl caller, who had no connection whatever with the crime.”

“Maybe,” Barry acquiesced. “But in that case, I’ll do no harm. I promise not to bother the little girl – why do we all assume her to be little – if she knows nothing of interest to us.”

“How are you going about your task?” Louis asked. He was still annoyed about it. His bent brows and frowning face showed a special interest and a dislike of Barry’s plans. He moved uneasily in his chair, suddenly sitting bolt upright, and then falling back in careless relaxation.

“Do sit still, Louis,” said Phyllis; “you make me quite nervous – acting like that. I wish you’d go out for a walk. You sit mewed up here, brooding, until you’re in a perfect state of feverish excitement. Run out, dear; go for a brisk walk. The air is fine and bracing.”

Phyllis looked anxiously after her brother.

He returned her gaze, seemed touched by her concern for him, and finally rose and followed her advice.

“I’ve always had the care of him,” Phyllis said, as she looked fondly after him. “He’s a darling, but he has moods. And the best thing for him is to get away from this eternal discussion of the ‘case.’”

“Perhaps you’d like to get away, too,” said Millicent, tartly. “I don’t think you show any sympathy for me, Phyllis, in my trouble. But, why should you? You’ve got your inheritance and you’re rid of a troublesome suitor – ”

“Don’t talk like that, Millicent,” Phyllis begged, tears in her eyes. “Indeed, I do sympathize with you, and I’m ready and willing to do anything I can to help you.”

“All right, then, turn your mind to thinking about who caused Robert’s death. You’re a bright girl, you have a really clever mind. Why can’t you ferret out the truth as well as a man? As I’ve been saying, I don’t think the police detectives get anywhere. I think friends know much more about the possibilities and probabilities – ”

“We do,” Barry agreed. “And to prove it, I’m going to start on my search at once. I’m going down to the Gleason apartment, I’m going to get that fur and take it with me, and I’ll bet I’ll find somebody in the house, some busybody or curious woman who has seen a girl there with that fur on. We all know Mr Gleason had friends among the younger members of the theatrical profession. There’s no use blinking that fact, and I propose to find out something, at any rate.”

“Well, go on, then,” urged Millicent, impatiently; “don’t sit there and talk about it! Start off, now.”

“I go!” and with a smiling good-by, Barry departed.

“He won’t do a thing,” Pollard said, with an indulgent smile. “He’s on a wild goose chase. I’d like to help you, Mrs Lindsay, but I confess I don’t take any stock in the girls. Now, have you any old letters or papers of your brother’s that you can look over. I feel that in those you might find a past acquaintance or some old quarrel or altercation that might show you a way to look. This is only a theory, but it’s as plausible as any other I’ve heard put forth.”

“It is, Mr Pollard,” Millicent agreed. “I’ve none of Robert’s papers here – they’re all at his rooms still. And I suppose Mr Lane has charge of them. But I can get them, and I shall do just as you’ve advised. Of course, there may be something divulged that way, but I doubt if my brother had an enemy out West. He was a much-liked man – ”

“I know that,” Phyllis interrupted, “but you must admit, Millicent, that even well-liked men may have enemies. There’s lots about a man’s private life that would contradict the general impression of him.”

“That’s you all over, Phyllis! You never lose a chance to cast a slur on my brother’s memory. I should think you would have a little gratitude to the man who left you a fortune.”

“I have, Millicent. And you must not misconstrue my words as you do. I am anxious, too, to find your brother’s murderer. And if, as Mr Pollard suggests, it may be some Western acquaintance, we must try to find him. And Mr Gleason’s private letters and papers may reveal much.”

“Yes, I suppose so. Now, with Phil Barry after the chorus girl, and Mr Pollard’s suggestions of hunting among the letters, we, at least have something to do. I shall send word to Mr Lane at once that I want all the papers from Robert’s desk.”

She went away to telephone, leaving Phyllis and Manning Pollard alone.

“It’s a mere chance,” said Pollard, thoughtfully; “it may well be that Mr Gleason would destroy any letters that are indicative of the sort of thing we’re looking for.”

“I don’t think so,” the girl returned. “I imagine Mr Gleason would have kept such papers. You see, I knew the man better than you did. You hardly knew him at all, did you?”

“No; I never met him more than two or three times, and that in the most formal way.”

“Yet you threatened to kill him!”

“Don’t put it that way, Miss Lindsay – please. My idle words have been repeated till I’m tired of hearing them! I did say I disliked the man – and I did. That’s all there was about it.”

“I disliked him, too,” said Phyllis, slowly. “I always had a nervous dread of him. I don’t know why, but he always affected me unpleasantly, even when he was most kind.”