The Deep Lake Mystery

“Miss Remsen can,” March asserted, “and it may be that Mrs. Dallas can, though we don’t know for certain.”

“Well,” Lora said, slowly, “give us some more evidence. You can’t sit up and reel off names of people. You might as well include Mrs. Merrill and myself.”

“No, ma’am, you had no motive. You’re not mentioned in the will.”

“But surely then, Mrs. Dallas had no motive. She expected to marry Mr. Tracy – why should she want to kill him?”

“Mrs. Dallas is in love with Mr. Everett. She would rather have her legacy and his legacy than to marry Tracy and have the whole works. Mrs. Dallas is not a grasping sort, but she is a woman of deep passions and she is desperately in love with that good-looking young man.”

“You seem to know the secrets of their hearts, March,” Keeley said. “What about Harper Ames?”

“He’s the puzzle.” March shook his head. “He’s the one I can’t make out. He asked you to take on the case, didn’t he?”

“He certainly did,” Moore stated.

“Well, that’s either because he’s innocent himself, or because he wants to appear so.”

“Can he swim?”

“It’s hard to say who can swim and who can’t. For those who can, can easily pretend they can’t. But that man is as deep as the Sunless Sea, and so far I haven’t been able to size him up exactly.”

“But look here, March, if you’ve footprints and fingerprints, what more do you want? Whose are they, anyway?”

“That’s another queer thing. They’re Miss Remsen’s, but she isn’t the criminal.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve talked with her. Now, I’m puzzled about Ames, he’s a deep and wily sort. But Miss Remsen is a sweet, innocent young girl, and I’m not so inexperienced that I can’t read such. She was scared of me at first, but once I got her calmed down she was straightforward and truthful. I know that, and I’ll stand by it.”

I could have hugged the man in my joy at his staunch partisanship toward Alma, and I asked more questions.

“Yet you say those were her fingerprints on the window frame?”

He gave me a quick look. “You saw them, then? Yes, they were hers, she was there, you know, on the Tuesday afternoon. Her uncle did say she could have the waistcoats for her fancy work, and he gave her the Totem Pole, too. She had the pole in her hand when she went to open a window, as the room was too warm. She remembered its scratching the white paint, and hoped the mark it made could be washed off.”

“And was it the mark of her shoe sole on the window sill?” Keeley asked, and I couldn’t judge whether his suave tone was indicative of suspicion or not.

“No, sir, it wasn’t!” March sounded triumphant. “Miss Remsen’s soles have little round dots in the rubber, these prints showed diamond-shaped dots.”

“That lets her out, then,” Kee said, drawing a long breath of relief, which made me suddenly realize how strongly he had suspected her.

“It does, but she never was in. That girl couldn’t have committed that fearsome crime. It’s against all belief! A hardened man of the world, now; or a callous-hearted servant; or even an experienced woman of society; all these sophisticated minds, yes. But that simple-hearted, innocent young girl – no!”

“I agree to that,” Lora said, “not only because I want to, but because it’s common sense and also psychology. Alma might have shot or stabbed, in a moment of mad rage, but to bring a nail and hammer – it’s too absurd.”

“Do you think the murderer was abnormal?” Maud said to Keeley.

“To my mind all murderers are abnormal,” he replied, thoughtfully. “It surely isn’t normal for any one to kill any one else, so, whether temporarily or permanently, to me a murderer is not only abnormal but insane.”

“Insane in the sense you mean,” March agreed, “that is, on one occasion and on one subject. But that is not what is usually meant by insanity. However, I think we’re of the same mind about that.”

“Did you see the doughty Merivale when you were at Miss Remsen’s house?” Kee asked.

“Yes, and she is a Tartar. She tried to put me off the premises, but Miss Remsen stayed her hand. Also, her better half came to her aid and I had the pair to placate.”

“I didn’t know the Amazon had a mate.”

“Oh, yes. John Merivale, and even bigger and more muscular than ‘Merry’ herself. Miss Remsen is well protected. They are both her absolute slaves, and except for her intervention would willingly have thrown me in the lake.”

“What attitude did you take?”

“Strong arm of the law effect. Said they must answer questions or they’d be haled to court for contempt of same. I scared them good and plenty but I got absolutely no information from them. That is, by word of mouth. But I gleaned a few hints from their unguarded expressions, or their sudden exhibitions of emotion.”

“Such as?”

“Nothing very definite. Only their reactions to other people. The two Merivales seem to think in unison. I gathered that they hate Mrs. Dallas, abhor Mr. Ames, tolerate the two secretaries, and are inordinately jealous and envious of all and sundry servants on the Pleasure Dome estate. That, and their worshipful adoration of Miss Remsen herself, is about all I picked up.”

“Did you go inside the house or only on the porch?”

“Both. I asked to go inside as it was too damp for my rheumatism outside. But, of course, I saw nothing suspicious. No waistcoats or missing fruit plates. The room I was in was just an ordinary, tastefully furnished living room. A piano, davenport, tables, bookcases, lamps – all such as you’d expect to find in a modern home.”

“And the girl lives all alone?”

“Yes. I asked her if she didn’t care for a companion or chaperon, and she smiled and said Merry was all those things to her. She seems entirely able to look after herself, and now, she will be mistress of Pleasure Dome, and I think she’ll be able to look after that.”

“Then you’ve definitely crossed her off the suspect list?”

“Almost. There’s one little point still bothering me, and I shall go again to the Island when both Miss Remsen and her two sentinels are out.”

“Can you get such an opportunity?”

“Yes, to-morrow at the time of the funeral. They will, of course, all attend the services and I shall make a small raid on Whistling Reeds. By the way, what a weird, eerie place it is!”

“Isn’t it!” Lora cried. “It gives me the shivers just to go past it in the boat. But I must go to call on Alma. Shall we go to-day, Maud?”

“Later, perhaps, dear. I’d like to go, I’m fond of Alma and, like Mr. March, I am sure she never had a hand in this terrible affair.”

A maid entered then and announced Mr. Harper Ames.

Keeley looked at March, who nodded, and Ames was shown in.

“Ah, Mr. March, a confab?” he said, after he had greeted the rest of us. “No objections to my joining it, I suppose?”

He took no heed of March’s reply, but seated himself comfortably, and accepted the cigar Keeley offered him.

“I have come,” he said, speaking slowly and distinctly, “to see if you are investigating the Tracy matter, Mr. Moore. To see what you have accomplished so far and to learn if you hope for success.”

His pause and his inquiring glance demanded a reply, and Keeley said, with equal slowness and distinctness: