The Mark of Cain

“We haven’t decided on anything of that sort yet,” broke in Avice. “Eleanor, don’t be ridiculous! Mr. Pinckney is not interested in our domestic arrangements.”

“Indeed I am. The readers of The Gazette are all anxious to know the least details of your life and home.”

“They must be disappointed then,” and Avice’s haughty look forbade further personal questions.

“Tell me more of the – the tragedy, then. Was the weapon found?”

“No, not that I know of,” and Avice looked surprised. “I never thought of it.”

“No, it was not,” affirmed Mrs. Black. “The police were unable to find any weapon.”

“Too bad,” frowned Pinckney; “the dear public loses a thrill.”

“The public? Do they care?” and Avice started.

“Rather! New Yorkers love a murder mystery if there are gruesome elements here and there.”

“All I want is justice,” and Avice’s big, brown eyes turned full on Pinckney’s face. “You know about such things. Do you suppose we can trace the murderer with so little to go on?”

“Can’t tell yet. May be lots of evidence forthcoming at the inquest.”

At this point Mrs. Black was called from the room by a servant, and Pinckney said quickly, “Who is she? and why don’t you like her?”

For some reason, Avice did not resent the man’s directness, and answered, slowly. “She is housekeeper, and was engaged to my uncle. I don’t dislike her, – not altogether.”

“Is she Italian? She looks so.”

“Of Italian descent, yes. Why?”

“Nothing. She’s a stunner for looks, but she’s entirely able to take care of herself. I say, Miss Trowbridge, are you alone, – in this matter, I mean.”

“In a way, I am. There is no one in the house but the housekeeper and myself. But Judge Hoyt, my uncle’s lawyer, looks after all business affairs for us.”

“Judge Hoyt?”

“Yes, Leslie Hoyt.”

“You’re fixed all right that way, then. But I say, Miss Trowbridge, I don’t want you to think me impertinent, but if I can help you at all in looking about, – investigating, you know, – ”

“Do you mean detecting?”

“Yes, in a small way. I’ve opportunities to go into the world and inquire into things that are a sealed book to you. But I suppose you’ll have detectives, and all that. And any way, it’s too soon to think about it. But remember, if you want any sleuthing done, – on the side, in an amateur way I’d be awfully glad to help you out.”

“That’s kind of you Mr. Pinckney, and I’ll be glad to take advantage of your offer. But do you have to put everything in your paper?”

“Just about. Oh, of course, if I unearth anything of importance, – like a clue, you know, I’d tell the police first but I’d want the scoop for ours.”

“How can there be any clues when it happened in the lonely woods? I thought clues were little things picked up off the floor, or found in people’s pockets.”

“Well, mightn’t they pick up little things off the ground? Or find them in your uncle’s pockets?”

“Do you think they will? Mr. Pinckney, you’ve no idea how I want to find the murderer! I never knew before that I had so much revenge in my nature, but I feel now I could devote my whole life, if need be, to tracking down that villain! I loved my uncle almost like a father. Most girls, I suppose, would be so broken up with grief that they couldn’t talk like this, but I seem to find the only comfort in the thought of avenging this horrible deed!”

“Don’t bank on it too much, Miss Trowbridge. They say only one murderer in six is convicted, and in only a small fraction of murders is anybody even suspected of the crime. But this case will be ferreted out, I’m sure, both because of the prominence of your uncle, and the fact that there is money enough to hire the best talent, if desired.”

“Indeed it is desired! I shall, of course, inherit much of my uncle’s fortune, and I would spend every penny rather than fail in the search!”

“You won’t mind my reporting this conversation, will you, Miss Trowbridge? I’m here for a story, you know, – ”

“Oh, must you put me in the paper? Please don’t!”

“I won’t put anything you won’t like. But our readers want you. You know, all the men want now-a-days is a graft yarn, and the women, some inside society gos – information.”

Avice would have made further objection to newspaper publicity, but people began to arrive, and, too, Pinckney was content to leave off conversation at that point.

He was young, and enthusiastic in his chosen career. Moreover, he was canny and clever. He had further chat with Mrs. Black, and he managed to get a few words with the servants. And somehow, by hook or crook, he secured photographs of both women, and of the house, as well as of the victim of the tragedy himself.

Aside from reportorial talent, Pinckney had a taste for detective work. He was, or fancied himself, the stuff of which story-book detectives are made, and he was more than glad to have the press assignment of this case, which might give him wide range for his powers of deduction.

When Judge Hoyt arrived, he at once sought out Avice, and his fine, impassive face grew infinitely gentle as he greeted the sad-eyed girl.

In her black gown, she looked older, and her pale cheeks and drawn countenance told of a sleepless night.

“How are you dear?” asked Hoyt, taking her hands in his. “I’ve been so anxious about you.”

“I’m all right,” and Avice tried to smile bravely. “But I’m glad you’ve come. I feel so alone and responsible – Mr. Pinckney says I have a splendid lawyer – but I don’t see anything for a lawyer to do.”

“There may be. I believe the police have made quite a few discoveries, though I know nothing definite. Of course, all my legal powers are at your disposal, but I too, doubt if the criminal is ever apprehended.”

“Oh, don’t say that! We must find him! You will, won’t you?”

“I’ll do my best Avice. But I am a lawyer, not a detective, you know.”

“But you’re a judge, and you have been district attorney, and you’re the greatest criminal lawyer in the state!”

“Yes, but a criminal lawyer must have a criminal to convict. Rest assured if the criminal is found, he shall have full punishment.”

“Of course, but I want help to find him. I want to employ detectives and – ”

“And so you shall, but wait Avice, until the inquest is over. That may bring developments. I wish I had been here in New York yesterday.”

“What could you have done?”

“Perhaps nothing to prevent or help, but I would have been at your uncle’s office during the day, and I would have known of his plans. Who is this Pinckney you mentioned?”

“A reporter for The Daily Gazette? I didn’t want to see him at first, but I’m glad I did. He’s going to help me detect.”

“Avice, dear, ‘detecting’ as you call it, isn’t a casual thing, to be done by anybody. It’s a trade, a profession – ”