The Diamond Pin

"Of course it is! Very likely! You are a smart chap, ain't you!"

Mr. Hughes' admiration was so full and frank that Stone smiled.

"That isn't a very difficult deduction," he said, "but we must verify it. This afternoon, we'll drive over there with Miss Clyde, and see if we can track down the house we're after."

Fleming Stone went alone to his interview with Winston Barnard. He found the young man willing to talk, but hopelessly dejected.

"There's no use, Mr. Stone," he said, after some roundabout conversation, "I'll be railroaded through. I didn't kill my aunt, but the circumstantial evidence is so desperately strong against me that nobody will believe me innocent. They can't prove it, because they can't find out how I got in, or rather out, but as there's nobody else to suspect, they'll stick to me."

"How did you get out?"

"Not being in, I didn't get out at all."

"I mean when you were there in the morning!"

Winston Bannard turned white and bestowed on his interlocutor a glance of utter despair.

"For Heaven's sake!" he exclaimed, "you've been in Berrien less than two days, and you've got that, have you?"

"I have, Mr. Bannard, and before we go further, let me say that I am your friend, and that I do not think you are guilty of murder or of theft."

"Thank you, Mr. Stone," and Bannard interrupted him to grasp his hand. "That's the first word of cheer I've had! My lawyer is a half-hearted champion, because he believes in his soul that I did it!"

"Have you told him the whole truth?"

"I have not! I couldn't! Every bit of it would only drag me deeper into the mire of inexplicable mystery."

"Will you tell it all to me?"

"Gladly, if you'll promise to believe me."

"I can't promise that, blindly, but I'll tell you that I think I Shall be able to recognize the truth as you tell it. Did you write the letter signed William Ashton?"

"Lord, no! Why would I do that?"

"To get the pin – "

"Now, hold on, before we go further, Mr. Stone, do satisfy my curiosity. Is that pin, that foolish, common little pin of any value?"

"I think so, Mr. Bannard. I can't tell until I see it – "

"But man, why see it? It's just like any common pin! I examined it myself, and it isn't bent or twisted, or different in any way from millions of other pins."

"Quite evidently then, you've not tried to get possession of it. Your scorn of it is sincere, I'm certain."

"You may be! I've no interest in that pin, for I know it was only a fool joke of Aunt Ursula's to tease poor little Iris."

"Her joking habit was most annoying, was it not?"

"All of that, and then some! She was a terror! Why, I simply couldn't keep on living with her. She made my life a burden. And she did the same by Iris. What that girl has suffered! But the last straw was the worst. Why, for years and years Aunt Ursula told of the valuable diamond pin she had bequeathed to Iris; at least, we thought she said diamond pin, but she said dime an' pin, I suppose."

"Yes, I know all about that; it was a cruel jest, unless – as I hope – the pin is really of value. But never mind that now. Tell me your story of that fatal Sunday."

"Here goes, then. I was out with the boys the night before, and I lost a lot of money at bridge. I was hard up, and I told one of the fellows I'd come up to Berrien the next day and touch Aunt Ursula for a present. She often gave me a check, if I could catch her in the right mood. So, next day, Sunday morning, I started on my bicycle and came up here."

"What time did you leave New York?"

"'Long about nine, I guess. It was a heavenly day, and I dawdled some, for I wanted to get here after Iris had gone to church. I wanted to see Aunt Ursula alone, and then if I got the money, I wanted to go back to New York and not spend the day here."

"Pardon this question – are you in love with Miss Clyde?"

"I am, Mr. Stone, but she doesn't care for me. She thinks me a ne'er-do-well, and perhaps I am, but truly, I had turned over a new leaf and, if Iris would have smiled on me, I was going to live right ever after. But I knew she wasn't overanxious to see me, so I planned to make my call at Pellbrook and get away while she was absent at church."

"You reached the house, then, after Miss Clyde had gone?"

"Yes, and the servants had all gone; at least, I didn't see any of them. I went in at the front door, and I found Aunt Pell in her own sitting-room. She was glad to see me, she was in a very amiable mood, and when I asked her for some money, she willingly took her check-book and drew me a check for five thousand dollars. I was amazed, for I had expected to have to coax her for it."

"And then?"

"Then I stayed about half an hour, not longer, for Aunt Ursula, though kind enough, seemed absent-minded, or rather, wrapped in her own thoughts, and when I said I'd be going, she made no demur, and I went."

"At what time was this?"

"I've thought the thing over, Mr. Stone, and though I'm not positive I think I reached Pellbrook at quarter before eleven and left it about quarter after eleven."

"Leaving your aunt perfectly well and quite as usual?"

"Yes, so far as I know, save that, as I told you, she was preoccupied in her manner."

"You had a New York paper?"

"Yes, a Herald."

"Where did you buy it?"

"Nowhere. I have one left at my door every morning. I read it before I left my rooms, but I put part of it in my pocket, as I usually do, in case I wanted to look at it again."

"You know there was a Herald found in the room after the murder?"

"Of course I do, but it was not mine."

"What became of yours?"

"I haven't the least idea, I never thought of it again."

"Quite a coincidence, that a Herald should have been left there when your aunt took quite another New York paper!"

"I'm telling you this thing just as it happened, Mr. Stone."