The Luminous Face

“But did nobody ever persuade you to sign a sheet of blank paper? Wanted your autograph, or that sort of thing?”

“Never! I’m not a celebrity!”

“Well, here’s an idea! Did anybody ever get you to sign a paper written in pencil? Then, he could rub out the pencil marks and type in the letter?”

“No, smarty! Why, that has been suggested by some one. But the expert said that the pencil marks would show, even if carefully erased.”

“You mean the erasure would leave its traces. That’s right, it would. And if ever there was a genuine looking letter that’s one.”

“On the surface, yes. But if I were a detective, I would note at once that the letter itself is not in a phraseology that I would use – ”

“And if I were a detective, I should note that, too, and set it down as a further proof of your cleverness!”

“Hello, Lane, are you convinced of my guilt?”

“Not a bit of it, but I am frankly puzzled about that letter. It’s so positively Club paper, Club typewriter, your signature – what’s the answer?”

“I’ll find out – I swear I will!”

“If you don’t, old chap, it’ll go hard with you, I fear.”

“As a starter, I’m going to see that Hayes girl. No, I don’t think she’s implicated, but I may be able to get something new.”

“Go ahead. Sound her and you may, at least, find some new way to look. Louis Lindsay never did it – ”

“Oh, no, I know that! He’d hardly have nerve to kill a fly!”

To the home of Ivy Hayes Barry went next.

The girl willingly saw him, and seemed glad to discuss the matter.

After some preliminary conversation and as Barry grew more definite in his queries, she began to be a little frightened, and was less frank in her responses.

“You came to see me before, Mr Barry,” she said, “and I told you then all I knew about this thing. Now, I’ve no more to tell.”

“I think you have. I remember the other time I was here, you had a sudden recollection, or thought, and you gave a startled exclamation. What was that thought?”

“As if I could recall! I suppose I was nervous – I often jump like that. It’s – it’s temperament, you know.”

“It was more than that. You did think of something that gave you a new idea regarding Mr Gleason’s murder or murderer. Now, don’t say you didn’t, for I know it. Come across, Ivy, tell me what it was – or you may get in deep yourself.”

“Tell me this, Mr Barry,” and the girl spoke quietly and earnestly; “is there any danger of my being suspected? For, if so, I’ll tell something. It’s awful mean to tell it – but I’ve got myself to look out for – oh, no – no! I don’t know anything! Not anything!”

“You do. You’ve already proved it. Now, Ivy, I won’t exaggerate your danger, but I’ll tell you that I think the only real suspects they have, as yet, are you and me. As I’m not the criminal, and as I shall do my very best to prove that, suspicion may come back on you. I don’t say this to frighten you. I merely state the fact. So, don’t you think yourself that you’d better tell me what you know, and I assure you that I will use the knowledge with discretion.”

“Oh, I can’t tell,” and the girl burst into tears. “I can’t tell anybody, and you least of all!”

Barry stared. What could such a speech mean?

“Please go away,” Ivy moaned. “Go away now, and come tomorrow. Then I’ll decide what to do.”

“No,” Barry said sternly; “you know something, and you must tell me. If you refuse I’ll go away, but I’ll send Mr Prescott here – and I’m sure you’d rather tell me – wouldn’t you, Ivy?”

Barry’s tone was ingratiating, and too, his words carried conviction. Ivy wiped her eyes and looked at him dolefully.

“I don’t know what to do. You see, for me to tell what I know would be mean – oh, worse than mean – it would be too low down for words! And yet – I don’t want to be arrested!”

“Then tell – tell me, my girl – you’ll feel better to tell it.”

Barry sensed the psychological moment, and knew he must get the story out of Ivy, while she was frightened. If she really knew how little she was suspected, she might never tell. And Barry felt it imperative that her knowledge be revealed.

Persuaded by his urgency, Ivy began.

“Well, you see, I went there about half past five – ”

“How do you know the time so well – most people don’t.”

“Oh, I don’t know how I know it, but I just happen to. I was due home at six, so I went there at five-thirty, or within a few minutes of that time. Does it matter?”

“No; go on.”

“Well, I rang the bell, you know, and the door clicked open and I went up and Mr Gleason let me in.”

“Yes.”

“Well, I hadn’t been there hardly any time at all – not ten minutes, anyhow, when Mr Gleason’s bell rang again. And I said, ‘Who is it?’”

“What made you think he would know who it was?”

“Don’t know as I did. Guess I just said it – but, anyway – he said – ‘It’s Miss Lindsay – I expect her – she mustn’t see you here!’”

“What did you do?”

“Why, he pushed me through into the dining-room – ”

“He never used the dining-room – ”

“Oh, he did sometimes. Well, anyway, the room was there – and he pushed me in, and told me to go through the pantry and down the back stairs and out that way.”

“Why did he push you? Weren’t you willing to go?”

“Yes, but I was rattled – bewildered. And, I’ve never seen Miss Lindsay, and I was curious to see her. I didn’t mind being found in Mr Gleason’s rooms, but he minded very much. And so he hurried me off, and that’s when he told me he’d give me the bracelet, if I’d sneak off without making a sound.”

“And did you?”

“Yes; but I waited a minute to try to see Miss Lindsay.”

“Did you see her?”