The Curved Blades

“That we can’t tell to a certainty. There were traces of the sandwiches discovered at the autopsy, but, though the poison could have been given her, concealed in a sandwich filling, it is improbable.”

“Why?”

“Because the white granules or powder, which are soluble in water, would be more easily discerned in solid food.”

“But, on the other hand, it could be unostentatiously placed in a sandwich, with little fear of detection; but to prevail on her to swallow a solution, – it is bitter, is it not?”

“Yes, slightly so. I admit, I cannot imagine any one inducing Miss Carrington to swallow such a draught. Therefore, it may well be, it was placed in a sandwich. The filling, they tell me, was caviare, which would disguise the bitterness.”

“And does not all this, if true, point to some one exceedingly familiar with all the details of Miss Carrington’s affairs? Some one who knew of her nightly sandwich? And, also, does it not imply the presence of some one who could and did insure her consumption of that sandwich?”

“It would indeed seem so, Mr. Stone; but when it comes to discussing such a question as that, I must ask to be allowed to retire from the field. It is my duty to tell all I know, from my medical experience, but further than that I am not obliged to express any opinions or voice any suspicions.”

“You know, however, that Count Charlier is held pending investigation?”

“Yes, I know it. I have no opinion to express.”

Fleming Stone rather admired this gentleman of the old school, whose courtesy was evident, but equally so his determination to say only what justice demanded of his profession.

And then, like a flash, the reason came to him. Doctor Stanton suspected, or at least feared to suspect some member of the Carrington household.

Of course, this was not a new idea to Fleming Stone. He had mentally gone over the possibility of every one in the family and all of the servants at Garden Steps, but so far he had held his mind open for impressions rather than to formulate theories himself.

“Then, to sum up, doctor,” he said, as he rose to go, “you assure me that you consider it out of the question that Miss Carrington took the aconitine herself, say, as a headache cure, or something, intending only a small curative dose?”

“Absolutely impossible, sir,” exclaimed the old gentleman, almost angrily; “to begin with, Miss Carrington never had headaches, and if she had she would have borne any amount of suffering from them before she would have touched a drug or a medicinal remedy of any sort. And, aside from all that, how could she get aconitine? It is not to be bought for the asking at any druggist’s! No, sir, my conscience makes me insist on that point, Miss Carrington never took that poison knowingly, – either by accident or design. It was given to her, without her knowledge, by a very, very clever villain.”

“Again, then, could it have been given her innocently, by mistake? I mean, if some one, her maid, or any friend, had wanted to give her a sedative, and meant only a light dose, but by error in quantity – ”

“No, sir! Not a chance! The amount given was too great to be an error. And every one in that house knows better than ever to have attempted to give medicine in any form or degree or for any purpose to Miss Lucy Carrington.”

“It was crime, then,” said Fleming Stone, “black crime. And as such, it must be discovered and punished.”

“Yes,” agreed Doctor Stanton, but he spoke with deep sadness and as one who feared where or toward whom such discoveries might lead.

From the doctor’s house Stone went to see the Count.

That elegant gentleman was highly irate at being detained against his will in such plain quarters as The Tombs furnished, but he was not as belligerent or vindictive as Stone expected to find him.

Hasty work on the part of the detectives from the District Attorney’s office had resulted in his imprisonment, but the later development of Bates’ share in the matter made it extremely probable that the Count might soon be released from custody.

Pleasantly enough the two men conversed, and Count Charlier gave the impression of one glad of help from an outside source.

“It is such absurdity,” he declared, “to think I would in any way wish harm to the lady. Why, I admired her above all, and it was my hope that she would do me the honor to accept my hand.”

“Honestly, Count Charlier?” and Stone looked at him with a man-to-man glance that caused the Count to hesitate in his protestations.

“Well, I was considering the matter in my own mind. You know, Mr. Stone, it is a great responsibility, this seeking a wife. And Miss Carrington was not – not in her first youth. Of a fact, her years outnumbered my own. So, I asked myself was it wise, was it altogether just to the lady to – ”

“Never mind all that, Count,” said Stone, a little impatiently, “just give me a few details of that evening, so far as your actions were concerned. You were at the house till midnight?”

“Yes, Mr. Illsley and I left together. We had spent the evening there at cards and music.”

“You had had any private conversation with Miss Carrington during the evening?”

“Yes, we walked alone in the conservatory for a time, – ”

“You proposed marriage?”

“Not exactly that, – but I may have hinted at such an event.”

“And the lady seemed agreeable?”

“Entirely so. If I may say it, she met my advances half-way, and I could not misunderstand her feeling toward my unworthy self.”

“She spoke to you of money matters? Of her will?”

“Yes, to my surprise, she told me she had bequeathed to me ten thousand dollars.”

“Was not this a strange bequest to a casual acquaintance?”

“Oh, we were more than casual acquaintances. I have known Miss Carrington for two or three months.”

“Which? two or three?”

“Perhaps nearer two,” and the Count showed a slight embarrassment.

“Do your friends often leave you large sums of money on such short acquaintance?”

“It has never happened before,” and now the Count’s dignity was touched and he spoke shortly and coolly.

“Then, of course, it struck you as peculiar,” and Stone’s smile assumed an acquiescence.

But the Count returned: “Not at all. Miss Carrington was an unusual woman, and I never expected her behavior to be entirely conventional. When she told me of this I was simply and honestly grateful, as I should have been to any one who showed me such a kindness.”

“You were glad to get the money, then?”

“Yes, indeed!” the Count exclaimed, with sparkling eyes, then realizing his slip, he hastily added: “that is, I was glad of the knowledge that it would come to me some day. Surely I did not want the lady to die, that I might receive it, but I was pleased to know she thought enough of me to make the direction.”

“What did she mean by saying ‘To-morrow all will be different’?”

“That I do not know. Could she have meant – ”

“She did say it, then? You admit she said it to you?”

Breathlessly, Fleming Stone waited the answer. Miss Carrington had said this to the person who was with her behind her closed door at one o’clock! Could the Count be going to incriminate himself?

“Not to me only. She said it to all who were present. It was while we were playing bridge.”