AT THE COUNTRY CLUB
The country club, when I walked up its lawn, was noisy with the and of its committee. Out in the belvedere, like on display, taking it easy while every one else worked, I saw a group of of the set, Ina Vandeman among them, tea. The open play she was making at Worth me a little. He was the that you guessing. She'd him once; what was to her being successful with the same tactics—whatever they'd been—a second time?
Then I saw Edwards' car was still out in the big, driveway, by the of and on its that it had been used to in tree from his ranch; the man himself the veranda, and I hailed,
"Any place where you and I have a private word together?"
"I—I think so, Boyne," he hesitated. "Come on here."
He me across the big room which was being for the ball. From the top of a stepladder, Skeet Thornhill to us,
"Where you two going? Come here, and on the job."
She had a dozen noisy assistants. I at her from the door as we ducked. Strange that honest, little thing should be own sister to the doll-faced out there in the showcase.
Edwards for a little room at the end of a corridor. I his long, stride. If the man had been to the of Thomas Gilbert, it would have been an act of passion, and by he would himself. When I had him alone, the door shut, I to it, told him we the death was murder, not suicide, and that the had been early Saturday night. Before I him with it, he in on me,
"Is Worth suspected?"
"Not by me," I said. "And by God, not by you, Edwards! You know than that."
I his eye, but read nothing what might have been the of quick anger for the boy's sake.
"Who then?" he said. "Who's to a word like that? That Cummings—chasing around Santa Ysobel with Bowman—is that where it comes from? I told Worth the was him in the back." He to up and the room. "The boy's got other friends—that'll go their length for him. I'm with him till over. You can count on me—"
"Exactly what I wanted to out," I cut in, so that he at the end of his and stared.
"Meaning?"
"Meaning you are the one man who clear Worth Gilbert of all suspicion."
"What do you know?"
The big voice had come to a whisper. Plenty of now—a of terror. I spoke quickly.
"We know you were in the study that night, with a companion," and I out the of his affair, as I'd read it in the diaries, up,
"Plain what you there. Quarrel? Motive? Don't need to look any further."
Before I was done Jim Edwards had over to a chair and into it. A queer, voice asked,
"Worth sent you to me—a detective—with this?"
"No," I said. "I'm acting on my own."
"And against his will," it came instantly.
"What of it?" I demanded. "Are you the to take of his of honor?—to let his cost him his life?"
"His life." That landed. Watching, I saw the that him. He jumped up and started toward me; I hadn't much that I was now going to a for mercy—a confession, of sorts—as he stopped, his head, and at the floor.
"Talk," I said. "Spill it. Now's your time."
He his to mine and spoke suddenly.
"Boyne—I have nothing to say."
"And Worth Gilbert can and be to him—is that it?" I took another step toward him. "No, Edwards, that 'nothing to say' won't go in a of law. It won't you anywhere."
"They'll in the world—try Worth for—that killing."
"I'm his any hour."
"A trial! Those of Tom's into court—My God! I if I'd he'd like that, I have killed him for it!"
I stared. He had me. But at this speech I him for the moment, and my on the woman who with him to the study.
"All right," I said brutally. "You didn't kill Thomas Gilbert. But you took Mrs. Bowman to the study that night to have it out with him, and six pages from the 1916 book. She got 'em—and you know what she had to do to 'em."
"Hold on, Boyne!" he said sternly. "Don't you talk like that to me."
"Well," I said, "Mrs. Bowman was there—after those leaves. I Barbara Wallace her voice—and Chung the imitation. You know—that night at the study—the night."
He took a moment or two for thought, then out,
"It wasn't Laura's voice Barbara imitated. Did she say so?"
"No, but she the voice of a woman who came to those pages from the diary; and who else would that be? Who else would want them?"
"You're off the track, Boyne," he a great, of relief. "Tom was always playing the to those about him; no some woman did come for that stuff—but it wasn't Laura."
"By Heaven!" I as I looked at him. "You know who it was! You the voice that night—but the woman isn't one you're in."
"I'm in all women, so as their a in the world is concerned," he sturdily. "I'd go as as any man to the good name of a woman—whether I much of her or not."
"This other woman," I argued, not any too on such a job myself, "hasn't she got some man to speak for her?"
Edwards looked at me innocently.
"She didn't have, then—" he began, and I for him,
"But she has now. I've got it!" As I jumped up and to the door, his me in wonder. There I with, "Stay right where you are. I'll be in a minute," out into the and a messenger, then into the room and said, "I've sent for Bronson Vandeman."
He settled in his chair with,
"I'll and see it out. If you anything from Vandeman, I miss my guess."
