The Mystery of the Sycamore

“Don’t you know which way to look, Terence?”

“I do – and I don’t – ” the boy murmured; “oh, lordy! I do – and – I don’t!”

“But there’s another matter to be agreed upon,” said Maida, who had not at all regained her normal poise or appearance. Her face was white and her eyes blurred with tears. But she persisted in speech.

“I want it understood that I am engaged to marry Mr. Keefe,” she said, not looking at Jeffrey at all. “I announce my engagement, and I desire him to be looked upon and considered as my future husband.”

“Maida!” came simultaneously from the lips of her father and Allen.

“Yes, that is positive and irrevocable. I have my own reasons for this, and one of them is” – she paused – “one very important one is, that Mr. Keefe knows who shot Mr. Appleby, and can produce the criminal and guarantee his confession to the deed.”

“Wow!” Fibsy remarked, explosively, and Fleming Stone stared at the girl.

“He used this as an argument to persuade you to marry him, Miss Wheeler?”

“I don’t put it that way, Mr. Stone, but I have Mr. Keefe’s assurance that he will do as I told you, and also that he will arrange to have a full and free pardon granted to my father for the old sentence he is still suffering under.”

“Well, Maida, I don’t wonder you consented,” said Miss Lane, her round eyes wide with surprise. “And I suppose he’s going to renounce all claim to this estate?”

“Yes,” said Maida, calmly.

“Anything else?” said Allen, unable to keep an ironic note out of his voice.

“Yes,” put in Fibsy, “he’s going to be governor of Massachusetts.”

“Oh, my heavens and earth!” gasped Genevieve, “what rubbish!”

“Rubbish, nothing!” Fibsy defended his statement. “You know he’s after it.”

“I felt sure he would, when Sam Appleby gave up the running – but – I didn’t know he had taken any public steps.”

“Never mind what Mr. Keefe is going to do, or not going to do,” said Maida, in a tone of finality, “I expect to marry him – and soon.”

“Well,” said Stone, in a business-like way, “I think our next one to confer with must be Mr. Keefe.”

CHAPTER XVIII

A FINAL CONFESSION

Inquiry for Keefe brought the information that he had gone to a nearby town, but would be back at dinner-time.

Mr. Appleby was also expected to arrive for dinner, coming from home in his motor car.

But in the late afternoon a severe storm set in. The wind rose rapidly and gained great velocity while the rain fell steadily and hard. Curtis Keefe arrived, very wet indeed, though he had protecting clothing. But a telephone message from Sam Appleby said that he was obliged to give up all idea of reaching Sycamore Ridge that night. He had stopped at a roadhouse, and owing to the gale he dared not venture forth again until the storm was over. He would therefore not arrive until next day.

“Lucky we got his word,” said Mr. Wheeler. “This storm will soon put many telephone wires out of commission.”

When Keefe came down at the dinner hour, he found Maida alone in the living-room, evidently awaiting him.

“My darling!” he exclaimed, going quickly to her side, “my own little girl! Are you here to greet me?”

“Yes,” she said, and suffered rather than welcomed his caressing hand on her shoulder. “Curtis, I told them you would tell them who killed Mr. Appleby.”

“So I will, dearest, after dinner. Let’s not have unpleasant subjects discussed at table. I’ve been to Rushfield and I’ve found out all the particulars that I hadn’t already learned, and – I’ve got actual proofs! Now, who’s a cleverer detective than the professionals?”

“Then that’s all right. Now, are you sure you can also get father freed?”

“I hope to, dear. That’s all I can say at present. Do you take me for a magician? I assure you I’m only an ordinary citizen. But I – ”

“But you promised – ”

“Yes, my little love, I did, and I well know that you promised because I did! Well, I fancy I shall keep every promise I made you, but not every one as promptly as this exposure of the criminal.”

“But you’ll surely fix it so father can go into Massachusetts – can go to Boston?”

“Well, rather! I expect – though you mustn’t say anything about it – but I’ve an idea that you may yet be a governor’s wife! And it wouldn’t do then to have your father barred from the state!”

Maida sighed. The hopes Keefe held out were the realization of her dearest wishes – but, oh, the price she must pay! Yet she was strong-willed. She determined to give no thought whatever to Jeffrey, for if she did she knew her purpose would falter. Nor did she even allow herself the doubtful privilege of feeling sorry for him. Well she knew that that way madness lay. And, thought the poor child, sad and broken-hearted though Jeff may be, his sadness and heartbreak are no worse than mine. Not so bad, for I have to take the initiative! I have to take the brunt of the whole situation.

The others assembled, and at dinner no word was said of the tragedy. Save for Maida and Jeffrey Allen, the party was almost a merry one.

Daniel Wheeler and his wife were so relieved at the disclosure of Maida’s innocence that they felt they didn’t care much what happened next. Fibsy flirted openly with Genevieve and Fleming Stone himself was quietly entertaining.

Later in the evening they gathered in the den and Keefe revealed his discoveries.

“I felt all along,” he said, “that there was – there must have been a man on the south veranda who did the shooting. Didn’t you think that, Mr. Stone?”

“I did at times,” Stone replied, truthfully. “I confess, though my opinion changed once or twice.”

“And at the present moment?” insisted Keefe.

“At the present moment, Mr. Keefe, your attitude tells me that you expect to prove that there was such a factor in the case, so I would be foolish indeed to say I doubted it. But, to speak definitely – yes, I do think there was a man there, and he was the murderer. He shot through the window, past Miss Wheeler, and most naturally, her father thought she fired the shot herself. You see, it came from exactly her direction.”

“Yes;” agreed Keefe, “and moreover, you remember, Rachel saw the man on the veranda – and the cook also saw him – ”

“Yes – the cook saw him!” Fibsy put in, and though the words were innocent enough, his tone indicated a hidden meaning.

But beyond a careless glance, Keefe didn’t notice the interruption and went on, earnestly:

“Now, the man the servants saw was the murderer. And I have traced him, found him, and – secured his signed confession.”

With unconcealed pride in his achievement, Keefe took a folded paper from his pocket and handed it to Daniel Wheeler.

“Why the written confession? Where is the man?” asked Stone, his dark eyes alight with interest.

“Gee!” muttered Fibsy, under his breath, “going some!”

Genevieve Lane stared, round-eyed and excited, while Allen and the Wheelers breathlessly awaited developments.