The Luminous Face

Belknap stared at him.

But Millicent Lindsay cried out: “Oh, Phil, I’m so sorry! Do you know, I felt it was you all along. And I like you so much! But when I learned about the letter you wrote to Robert – you did write it, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” said Barry.

“Well, as soon as I heard about that, I knew you did it. You never liked Robert, but that was mostly because you thought he would get Phyllis away from you. But to kill him! I can hardly believe it – and yet, I’ve felt sure of it for some time!”

The doorbell rang, and in a flurry of tears and agitation Millicent ran away to her own room.

The newcomer was Pollard, and as he entered he observed the serious attitude of the two men.

“What is it?” he asked, simply.

“I’ve just confessed to the Gleason murder,” said Barry.

“What did you confess for?”

“Because I did it. What does any one confess for?”

“Usually because he didn’t do it. The real murderer rarely confesses.”

“Just what I think,” Belknap said; “Mr Barry has an idea that Miss Lindsay will be accused, and he has confessed to prevent it.”

“That it, Phil?” and Manning Pollard looked Barry squarely in the eyes.

“Take it any way you like, Pol,” Barry said. “I make my confession, I give myself up – now let the law – if such a thing exists – take its course. And there’s that letter. You know I wrote it, Pollard. You know I must have written it. There’s no other possible theory. You know I left you about six – or a little before. You know I’ve no alibi – and there was time enough for me to go down to the Gleason place and get back for the dinner party.”

“You rattle it off like a lesson, Phil. How did you go down there?”

Barry stared, but quickly said, “Taxi.”

“Did no one see you go in?”

“Not that I know of. Shut up, Pollard.”

Pollard shut up, and Belknap asked a long string of questions. These Barry answered, but even then, Belknap did not arrest him. The attorney went away, leaving the matter in abeyance, for, as a matter of fact, he had no idea Barry was telling the truth.

“Shielding somebody?” Pollard asked as soon as Belknap had gone.

Barry look at him. “I confessed,” he said.

“Yes; I know. To shield Phyllis – or Louis?”

“Don’t, Pol.”

“Own up, old chap. Or perhaps you suspect them both.”

“I do! How did you know? They were there together. There was trouble. Louis sent that telephone message – after the shooting – and he muddled it. It’s all been a muddle ever since!”

“It surely has,” agreed Pollard. “But I’m not sure you’ve chosen the best way to clear it up.”

“Well, I had to. I can’t see Phyllis dragged through a trial – and she would say or do anything to shield Louis. So I thought I’d throw myself into the breach.”

“You’ve certainly done so – whether for good or ill.”

CHAPTER XVI – Buddy

“Now that the money is paid, Phyllis, dear, and the whole matter is hushed up, Louis will never be suspected of having had anything to do with that Bill Halsey gang. It was a narrow escape – if the story had come out, it would have stained the boy’s reputation badly. But, thanks to your quick action and watchful care, your brother is released from their clutches and you need worry about that no more.”

“Thanks, too, to your kindness in letting me have the money. I will repay you just as soon as Mr Lane settles financial matters enough to give it to me out of my inheritance.”

“No hurry about it. Instead of that, let’s talk about ourselves. When are you going to let me give you a ring?”

“Oh, not yet,” and Phyllis looked distressed. “Wait till this awful matter of the Gleason death is explained.”

“Will it ever be?” Pollard spoke gravely, and added, “Do you want it to be?”

“Oh,” she cried, “don’t look like that! Do you suspect Louis, too? Buddy never did it! Never!”

“No, of course he didn’t. Do you sometimes think Phil – ”

“Philip Barry! No! He says he did, to shield my brother – ”

“And you.”

“Me!”

“Yes. Let’s speak frankly, Phyllis. I can’t bear to fence or quibble with you. Now, you know, you and Louis were there – ”

“Oh, no, we weren’t – well – maybe we were – oh, I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“Poor little girl. Don’t try to make up stories to me. Tell me just how it was – or, don’t tell me anything – as you wish, but don’t tell me what isn’t so. I can’t help you if you do that.”

Phyllis looked at him searchingly. She trusted him – and yet, she hesitated to put into words her own suspicions of Louis.

“I’m sure Phil Barry is shielding some one else,” she began.

“But, dear, that letter – how could that have been written, except by Barry?”

“Now, don’t you prevaricate to me!” she cried; “you know whatever is the explanation of the letter, Phil Barry isn’t guilty!”

“I don’t know any such thing! If Barry wrote the letter, he must have meant something by it, and until he is proved innocent, there’s good reason for suspecting him.”

“Don’t you suspect Louis?” Phyllis asked directly, facing Pollard with a straightforward gaze.

“Don’t ask me, dear. If I did – if I do – I wouldn’t say so, because – because I love you. Confide in me – please do, darling. If you suspect your brother, tell me so, and I’ll do all I can to divert suspicion from him.”

“Even if you think him guilty?”