The Luminous Face

“No; the door opened the wrong way. I peaked through the crack, but I couldn’t see her. I heard her, though.”

“You did?” Barry’s nerves were pounding, his heart beat fast, as he listened for, yet dreaded her further speech.

“Yes, and I couldn’t make out a word she said, her voice was so low. But they were quarreling – or at least discussing something on which they didn’t agree.”

“What was it?” Barry controlled himself.

“I don’t know. Mr Gleason walked up and down the room as he talked – he often did that – but it kept me from pushing the door a speck wider open. In fact, he pushed it tight shut as he passed it.”

“Did he suspect you were there listening?”

“Oh, I don’t think so. He just closed it on general principles. Maybe he thought I was there. But after that I couldn’t hear a word, so I went through the pantry and down the back way.”

“Anybody see you?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You’re sure it was Miss Lindsay who was there?”

“Yes. I heard Mr Gleason say ‘my sister is your stepmother, I know,’ and again he said, ‘Yes, you’re Lindsay – you’re both Lindsays – but I’ve made my will – ’ that’s all I heard.”

“What time did you leave there?”

“It must have been about quarter to six, for I was home at six.”

“And Miss Lindsay was there when you left.”

“Oh, yes, she was there when I left.”

And then, Philip Barry’s secret fear was confirmed.

CHAPTER XIII – Philip and Phyllis

Philip Barry, though of the artistic temperament common to his calling, had also a businesslike instinct that prompted him to straight-forward measures in any case where he was specially interested.

And he was deeply interested in learning that Phyllis had been at Gleason’s rooms the afternoon of the murder, and he wanted the matter cleared up to his own satisfaction.

Wherefore, he went to Phyllis herself and inquired concerning it.

“Were you at Mr Gleason’s that day?” was his somewhat direct way of opening the conversation.

They were alone, in the Lindsays’ library, and Phyllis, looking demure enough in a little white house gown, was in perverse mood.

“Good gracious, Phil, are you beginning to suspect me? Go to Millicent with your theories? She has thought from the first that I shot her brother. Go over to her side, if you like.”

“I don’t like! It isn’t a question of ‘sides’! And if it is, of course, I’m on your side. You know that, don’t you, Phyllis? You know I’m for you, first, last and all the time.”

“Then help me, Phil, and sympathize, and don’t come rushing in here and screaming out, ‘Was I at Mr Gleason’s when he was killed?’”

“I didn’t say that!”

“You did, practically. Now, what do you mean by it?”

“Why,” Barry hesitated, “why, I’ve been to see that – ”

“Ivy Hayes?”

“Yes. And she said you were there.”

“Ivy Hayes said I was there! She must be crazy!”

“Weren’t you? Tell me you weren’t, Phyllis. I’ll be so glad to know it. Where were you that afternoon, late? You never would say.”

“Why should I? I won’t say now, either, but I was not at Mr Gleason’s.”

“Oh, then that’s all right.” Barry’s tense expression relaxed, and he smiled. “Then that youngster made it all up. I fancied she did – just to make a sensation.”

“Why – what did she say, exactly?” Phyllis looked ill at ease.

Barry couldn’t suspect her sincerity, but he watched her as he told of his interview with Miss Hayes.

“She said I was there! That she was hidden in another room while I was there! Why, I wasn’t there at all!”

“You didn’t go to Mr Gleason’s the day of – the day he died?”

“No, I’ve never been there! Why should I go? It isn’t my custom to go to the homes of men I know. They call on me.”

“Of course, Phyllis – don’t get angry, dear. I didn’t think you’d go there – but there might have been a reason – an errand, you know.”

“Well, there wasn’t. I wish you’d all stop trying to find out who killed that man! What difference does it make? He’s dead, and it won’t bring him to life to punish his murderer. I think Millicent is foolish about it.”

“It’s natural, Phyllis, dear. It isn’t exactly revenge, but more an avenging spirit. It’s human nature to demand a life for a life.”

“But it can’t be found out. If they do arrest somebody, it’ll most likely be the wrong person.”

Phyllis looked very lovely as she drew her brows together in a perplexed frown and then smiled.

“Oh, make them stop, Phil. If you advise Millicent, she’ll stop.”

“I’m afraid my sense of justice is too strong – ” Barry began, but Phyllis interrupted him:

“It is too strong if it’s stronger than your wish to please me,” and she pouted like a scolded child.

“Nothing in my heart is stronger than my wish to please you,” Barry said, gravely, “and you know it, Phyllis. If you make it a condition, I will most certainly suggest to Mrs Lindsay that she give up her quest. But, such advice would be against my own better judgment.”

“But why, Phil?” Phyllis was coaxing now. “Don’t you feel sure they’ll never find the murderer?”

“If they don’t, Phyllis, they’ll always suspect me.”