The Hollow of Her Hand

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"You were not?" fell from Mr. Wrandall's lips. "Where were you?"

"I spent the night in our apartment--alone." She shivered as with
a chill as she uttered these words.

"What!"

"Leslie met me at the dock. He said that Challis had gone away
from town for a day or two. The next day I telephoned to the garage
and asked them to send the big car to me as I wanted to make some
calls. They said that Mr. Wrandall had discharged the chauffeur
a week or two before and had been using my little French runabout
for a few days, driving it himself. I then instructed them to send
the runabout around with one of their own drivers. You can imagine
my surprise when I was told that Mr. Wrandall had taken the car
out that morning and had not returned with it."

"I see," said Mr. Wrandall, beads of perspiration standing on his
forehead.

"He had not left town. I will not try to describe my feelings. Late
in the afternoon, I called them up again. He had not returned. It
was then that I thought of going to the apartment, which had been
closed all winter. Watson and his wife were to go in the next day
by my instructions. Challis had been living at a club, I believe.
Somehow, I had the feeling that during the night my husband would
come to the apartment--perhaps not alone. You understand. I went
there and waited all night. That is the story. Of course, it is known
that I did not spend the night at the hotel. Mr. Smith evidently
has learned as much. It is on this circumstance that he bases his
belief."

Booth was leaning forward, breathless with interest.

"May I enquire, Mr. Carroll, how the clever Mr. Smith accounts for
the secrecy observed by Mr. Wrandall and his companion, if, as he
proclaims, you were the woman? Is it probable that husband and wife
would have been so mysterious?"

Mr. Carroll answered. "He is rather ingenious as to that, Mr.
Booth. You must understand that he does not specifically charge
my cli--Mrs. Wrandall with the murder of her husband. He merely
arranges his theories so that they may be applied to her with
a reasonable degree of assurance. He only goes this far in his
deductions: If, as he has gleaned, Challis Wrandall was engaged
in an illicit--er--we'll say distraction--with some one unknown to
Sara his wife, what could be more spectacular than her discovery
of the fact and the subsequently inspired decision to lay a trap
for him? Of course, it is perfect nonsense, but it is the way he
goes about it. It has been established beyond a doubt that Wrandall
met the woman at a station four miles down the line from Burton's
Inn. She came out on one of the local trains, got off at this
station as prearranged, and found him waiting for her. Two men,
you will recall, testified to that effect at the inquest sixteen
months ago. She was heavily veiled. She got in the motor and drove
off with him. This was at half past eight o'clock in the evening.
Smith makes this astounding guess; the woman instead of being the
person expected, was in reality his wife, who had by some means
intercepted a letter. Our speculative friend Smith is not prepared
to suggest an arrest on these flimsy claims, but he believes it to
be worth Mrs. Wrandall's while to have the case permanently closed,
rather than allow these nasty conclusions to get abroad. They would
spread like wildfire. Do you see what I mean?"

"It is abominable!" cried Hetty, standing before them with flashing
eyes. "I KNOW she did not--"

"Hetty, my dear!" cried Sara sharply.

The girl looked at her for a moment in a frenzied way, and then
turned aside, biting her lips to keep back the actual confession
that had rushed up to them.

"It is blackmail," repeated Mr. Wrandall miserably.

"In the most diabolical form," augmented Carroll. "The worst of it
is, Wrandall, we can't stop his tongue unless we fairly choke him
with greenbacks. All he has to do is to give the confounded yellow
journals an inkling of his suspicions, and the job is done. It seems
to be pretty well understood that the crime was not committed by a
person in the ordinary walks of life, but by one who is secure in
the protection of mighty influences. There are those who believe
that his companion was one of the well-known and prominent young
matrons in the city, many of whom were at one time or another interested
in him in a manner not at all complimentary. Smith suggests--mind
you, he merely suggests--that the person who was to have met Wrandall
in the country that night was so highly connected that she does
not dare reveal herself, although absolutely innocent of the crime.
Or, it is possible on the other hand, he says, that she may consider
herself extremely lucky in failing to keep her appointment and
thereby alluring him to take up with another, after she had written
the letter breaking off the engagement,--said letter not having
been received by him because it had fallen into the hands of his
wife. Do you see? It is ingenious, isn't it?"

"What is to be done?" groaned Mr. Wrandall, in a state of collapse.
He was sitting limply back in the chair, crumpled to the chin.

"The sanest thing, I'd suggest," said Booth sarcastically, "is the
capture of the actual perpetrator of the deed."

"But, confound them," growled Carroll, "they say they can't."

"I shall withdraw my offer of reward," proclaimed the unhappy
father, struggling to his feet. "I never dreamed it could come to
such a pass as this. You DO believe me, don't you, Sara, my child--my
daughter? God hear me, I never--"

"Oh," said she cuttingly, "you, at least, are innocent, Mr.
Wrandall."

He looked at her rather sharply.

"The confounded fellow is coming to see me to-morrow," he went on
after a moment of indecision. "I shall be obliged to telephone to
the city for my attorney to come out also. I don't believe in taking
chances with these scoundrels. They--"

"May I enquire, sir, why you entrusted the matter to a third rate
detective agency when there are such reputable concerns as the
Pinkertons or--" began Mr. Carroll bitingly.

Mr. Wrandall held up his hand deprecatingly.

"We had an idea that an unheard of agency might accomplish more
than one of the famous organisations."

"Well, you see what has come of it," growled the other.

"I was opposed to the reward, sir," declared Mr. Wrandall with some
heat. "Not that I was content to give up the search, but because I
felt sure that the guilty person would eventually reveal herself.
They always do, sir. It is the fundamental principle of criminology.
Soon or late they falter. My son Leslie is of a like opinion. He
has declared all along that the mystery will be cleared up if we
are quiescent. A guilty conscience takes its own way to relieve
itself. If you keep prodding it with sharp sticks you encourage
fear, and stealth, and all that sort of thing, without really
getting anywhere in the end. Give a murderer a free rope and he'll
hang himself, is my belief. Threaten him with that self-same rope,
and he'll pay more attention to dread than to conscience, and your
ends are defeated."

Sara was inwardly nervous. She stole a glance at the white, emotionless
face of the girl across the table, and was filled with apprehension.

"Can you be sure, Mr. Wrandall," she began earnestly, "that justice
isn't the antidote for the poisonous thing we call a conscience?
Suppose this woman to have been fully justified in doing what she
did, does it follow that conscience can force her to admit, even
to herself, that she is morally guilty of a crime against man? I
doubt it, sir."

She was prepared for a subtle change in Hetty's countenance and was
not surprised to see the light of hope steal back into her eyes.

"Fully justified?" murmured the old gentleman painfully.

"Perhaps we would better not go into that question too intimately,"
suggested Mr. Carroll.

"My son Leslie has peculiar views along the very line--" began Mr.
Wrandall, in great distress of mind. He fell into a reflective mood
and did not finish the sentence.

"I shall see this man Smith," announced Sara calmly.

Her father-in-law stood over her, his face working. "My dear,"
he said, "I promise you this absurd business shall go no farther.
Don't let it trouble you in the least. I will attend to Smith. If
there is no other way to check his vile insinuations, I will pay
his price. You are not to be submitted to these dreadful--"

She interrupted him. "You will do nothing of the kind, Mr. Wrandall,"
she said levelly. "Do you want to convince him that I AM guilty?"

"God in heaven, no!"

"Then why pay him the reward you have offered for the person who
is guilty?"

"It is an entirely different propo--"

"It amounts to the same thing, sir. He tells you he has discovered
the woman you want and you fulfil your part of the bargain by
paying him for his services. That closes the transaction, so far
as he is concerned. He goes his way fully convinced that he has
put his hands on the criminal, and then proceeds to wash them in
private instead of in public. No. Let me see this man. I insist."

"He will be at my place to-morrow at eleven," said Wrandall
resignedly. "I wish Leslie were here. He is so level-headed."

Sara laid her hand on his arm. He looked up and found her regarding
him rather fixedly.

"It would be just as well as to keep this from Mrs. Wrandall and
Vivian," she said meaningly.

"You are right, Sara. It would distress them beyond words."

She smiled faintly. "May I enquire whether Mr. Smith is to report
to you or to Mrs. Wrandall?"

He flushed. "My wife--er--made the arrangements with him, Sara," he
said, but added quickly: "With my sanction, of course. He reports
to me. As a matter of fact, now that I think of it, he advised me
to say nothing to my wife until he had talked with me."

"Inasmuch as he has already talked it over with me, through counsel,
I don't see any reason why we should betray his gentle confidence,
do you?"

"I--I suppose not," said he uncomfortably.

"Then, bring him here at eleven, Mr. Wrandall," said she serenely.
"He has already paved the way. I imagine he expects to find me at
home. Put the things here, Watson."

Watson had appeared with the tray. It being a very hot day, he did
not bring tea.

CHAPTER XIII

MR. WRANDALL PERJURES HIMSELF

Smith arrived at eleven, somewhat after the fashion of the Hawkshaws
of "yellow back" fame, who, if our memory serves us right, were so
punctual that their appearance anywhere was described as being in
the "nick o' time," only in this instance he was expected and did
not "drop from the sky," as the saying goes.

Mr. Wrandall met him at the station and escorted him in a roundabout
way to Southlook, carefully avoiding the main village thoroughfare
and High street, where the fashionable colony was intrenched. Mr.
Smith, being an experienced detective, was not surprised to find
(after the introduction), that Mr. Wrandall's attorney had been a
fellow-passenger from town. If he was impressed, he did not once
betray the fact during the four mile spin to Sara's. On the contrary,
he seemed to be entirely absorbed in the scenery.

Mr. Wrandall had said, without shaking hands: "We will repair at
once to Mrs. Challis Wrandall's house, Mr. Smith. She is expecting
you. I have informed her of your mission."

"I think we'd better discuss the matter between ourselves, Mr.
Wrandall, before putting it up to--"

"There is nothing in connection with this unhappy affair, sir, that
cannot be discussed first-hand with her," said his employer stiffly.

"Just as you like, sir," said Smith indifferently. "I have talked
it over with old man Carroll. He understands."

"I am quite sure he does, Mr. Smith," said the other, with emphasis.
Mr. Smith successfully hid a smile.

He took his seat beside the chauffeur.

"I am surprised," he observed to the driver, as a "feeler," "that
you haven't changed bodies."

"Mr. Wrandall ordered the limousine, sir," said the chauffeur.

"Oh, I see. Keeps it on hand for rainy days, I suppose."

"It's Mrs. Wrandall's idea," explained the man. "Women are fussy
about their hair. We always have a limousine handy."

"It is a handy thing to have about," said Mr. Smith drily, as he
looked out of the corner of his eye and remarked the two men behind
him. They were in very close conversation.

"The boss usually takes the other car. He likes the wind in his
face, he says. I don't know why he ordered the limousine to-day."

"Probably there's something in the wind to-day he doesn't like,"
remarked Smith, after which he devoted himself assiduously to the
road ahead, not being a practiced motorist.

As they were ascending the steps in Sara's exotic garden, Smith
ventured a somewhat sinister remark.

"These steps are not good for a man with a weak heart, Mr. Wrandall.
I hope yours is sound."

"Quite, Mr. Smith. Have no fear," said Mr. Wrandall, with an acute
sense of divination. "You will also find it to be in the right
place."

"Umph," said Mr. Smith.

Sara did not keep them waiting long in the morning room. She came
in soon after they were announced, followed by Mr. Carroll, who had
spent the night at Southlook. Hetty Castleton was not in evidence.

She motioned them to seats after Mr. Wrandall had ceremoniously
introduced his lawyer, and as unceremoniously neglected to do as
much for Smith.

"This is Mr. Smith, I presume," said she, with a slight uplifting
of her eyebrows. She took a chair facing the detective.

"Yes, my dear," said her father-in-law. "Joseph Smith."

"Benjamin, if you please," corrected Mr. Smith.

"I regret to state that my memory for names does not go back to
the Old Testament," said Wrandall, with a frosty smile.

"There are no Smiths in the Old Testament," said the detective
grimly.

"I understand, Mr. Smith, that you are prepared to charge me with
the murder of my husband."

She said it very quietly, very levelly. Smith was a bit staggered.

"Well, I--er--hardly that, Mrs. Wrandall," he said, disconcerted.

"Will you be good enough to come to the point at once?"

"My report in this matter, madam, is to be made to Mr. Wrandall
here, as I understand it," said the detective, his jaw stiffening.
"We don't, as a rule, report our findings to--well, to the person
we suspect. It isn't what you'd call regular. Mr, Wrandall has
employed me to make the investigation. He can hardly expect me to
reveal my findings to you."

"My dear Sara--" began Mr. Wrandall.

"As this is a rather intimate conference, Mr. Smith," interrupted
Sara, with a gracious smile for her father-in-law, "I fancy we have
nothing to gain, one way or another, by recriminations. You have
already consulted Mr. Carroll, and I have talked it over with Mr.
Wrandall. That was to have been expected, I believe. As I understand
the situation, you are somewhat curious to know just how much it
is worth to me to have the matter dropped."

Smith eyed her steadily.

"That is the case, precisely," he said briefly.

"Then you are not really interested in having the guilty person
brought to justice?"

"I am not an officer of the law, madam. I am a private individual,
working for private ends. It is for Mr. Wrandall to say whether my
discoveries shall be related in court. I respectfully submit that
I am acting within my rights. My deductions have been formed.
That is as far as I can go without his authority. He has offered a
reward, and he has gone farther than that by engaging us to devote
our time, brains and energies to the case. I am in this position at
present: our firm cannot accept the reward he has offered without
deliberately declaring to the world that we can put our hand on
the slayer of his son. As I cannot produce the actual proof that
we have found that person, I am in honour compelled to submit our
findings so far as they have gone, and then either to withdraw from
the matter or carry it on to the end, as he may elect. Our time
is worth something, madam. We have made a careful and exhaustive
investigation. We have come to the point where we can go no farther
without more or less publicly associating you with our theories.
I spoke to Mr. Carroll yesterday, it is true, and I am here to-day
to lay my facts before Mr. Wrandall--and his attorney, I see. Mr.
Carroll chose to call me a blackmailer. He may be correct in his
legal way of looking at it. But he is wrong in assuming that MY
motives are criminal. I submit that they are fair, open and above
board."

There was a moment's silence following this astonishingly succinct
summing up of his position. The three men had not taken their eyes
from his shrewd, frank face during that clever speech. They had
nothing to say. It had been agreed among them that Sara was to do
the talking. They were to do the watching.

"You put the case very fairly, Mr. Smith," said she seriously. "I
think your position is clear enough, assuming of course that you
have any real evidence to support your theories, whatever they may
be. I am perfectly free to say that you interest me."

"Interest you?" he said, in some exasperation. He had expected her
to fly into a passion. "Don't you take me seriously, madam?"

"As far as you have gone, yes."

Mr. Wrandall could hold in no longer. He was most uncomfortable.

"See here, Smith, out with it. Let us have your story. My
daughter-in-law is not in the least alarmed. You've been on the
wrong track, of course. But that isn't the point. What we want now
is to find out just where we stand."

"You put it in a rather compromising way, Mr. Wrandall. The pronoun
'we' is somewhat general, if you will permit me to say so. Do you
expect me to discuss my findings in the presence of Mrs. Wrandall
and her counsel?"

"Certainly, sir, certainly. You need have no hesitancy on that
score. I dare say you came here knowing that what you were to say
would go no further than these four walls."

"Would you say that, sir, if I were to submit proof that would
make it look so black for Mrs. Wrandall that you couldn't very well
doubt her complicity in the crime, even though you saw fit to let
it go no further than these four walls?"

Mr. Wrandall hesitated. A heavy frown appeared between his eyes;
his fingers worked nervously on the arm of the chair.

"I may say to you, Mr. Smith, that if you produce conclusive proof
I shall do my duty as a law-respecting citizen. I would not hesitate
on that score."

Sara looked at him through half-closed lids. His jaws were firmly
set.

Smith seemed to be reflecting. He did not speak for a long interval.

"In the first place, it struck me as odd that the man's wife did
not take more interest in the search that was made immediately
after the kill--after the tragedy. Not only that, but it is of
record that she deliberately informed the police that she didn't
care whether they caught the guilty party or not. Isn't that true?"

The question was directed to no one in particular.

It was Sara who answered.

"Quite true, Mr. Smith. And if it will interest you in the least,
I repeat that I don't care even now."

"You were asked if you would offer a reward in addition to the small
one announced by the authorities. Why didn't you offer a reward?"

"Because I did not care to make it an object for well-meaning
detectives to pry into the affairs of indiscreet members of society,"
she said.

"I see," said he reflectively. "May I be so bold as to ask why you
don't want to have the guilty punished?"

She looked at Mr. Wrandall before offering a reply to this direct
question.

"I can't answer that question without publicly wounding Mr.
Wrandall."

"We understand each other, Sara," said the old man painfully. "I
think you would better answer his question."

"Because my husband courted the fate that befell him, Mr. Smith.
That is my reply. While I do not know what actually transpired at
the inn, I am reasonably certain that my husband's life was taken
by some one who had suffered at his hands. I can say no more."

"The eye for an eye principle, eh?" There was deep sarcasm in the
way he said it. As she did not respond to the challenge, he abruptly
changed tactics. "Where were you on the night of the murder, Mrs.
Wrandall?"

She smiled. "I thought you knew, Mr. Smith."

"I have reason to believe that you were at Burton's Inn," he said
bluntly.

"But you wouldn't be at all sure about it if I said I wasn't there,
would you, Mr. Smith?"

"I don't quite get you, Mrs. Wrandall."

"I mean to say, if I made it worth your while to change your
opinion," she said flatly.

He cleared his throat. "You couldn't change my opinion, so there's
an end to that. You could stop me right where I am, if that's what
you mean. I'm perfectly frank about it, gentlemen. You needn't
look as if you'd like to kill me. I'm not anxious to go on with
the investigation. I don't know enough up to date to be sure of a
conviction, but I guess I could get the proof if it is to be found.
This is a family affair, I take it. Mr. Wrandall here doesn't want
to--"

Mr. Wrandall struck the arm of his chair a violent blow with his
clenched fist.

"You have no authority, sir, to make such a statement!" he exclaimed.
"I want it distinctly understood that I would give half of what I
possess to have the slayer of my son brought to justice."

"But you don't want this thing to go any further so far as Mrs.
Challis Wrandall is concerned," said Smith coolly.

"Of course not, you miserable scoundrel!" cried the other in a
rage. "She's no more guilty than I am."

"Don't call names, Mr. Wrandall," said Smith, a steely glitter in
his eyes. "I am prepared to lay before you certain facts that I
have unravelled, but I am not willing to give them to Mrs. Wrandall."

"My daughter-in-law spent the night at her own apartment, waiting
for my son," said Wrandall, regaining control of himself. "That is
positively known to me, sir. Positively!"

"How can you be sure of that, Mr. Wrandall?" asked Smith sharply.

The gaunt old face, suddenly very much older than it had been
before, took on a stern, defiant expression.

"I spoke with her over the telephone at half past nine o'clock that
night," said he steadily.

Smith was not the only one to be surprised by this startling
declaration. Sara Wrandall's eyes widened ever so slightly, and
one might have detected a sharp catch in her breath.

"She called you up?" asked Smith, after a moment to collect his
wits.

Mr. Wrandall was not to be trapped. He had made up his mind to
lie for Sara in this hour of need, and he had considered well his
methods.

"No. I called up the apartment."

"How did you know she was at her apartment?"

"I did not know it. I called up to speak with my son. She answered
the call, Mr. Smith."

He arose from the chair. Smith also came slowly to his feet, the
look of astonishment still on his face.

"And now, sir," went on the old man, levelling a bony finger at
him, "I think we can dispense with your services. I will give you
credit for one thing: you are plain-spoken and above board. You
want money and you don't beat about the bush. If you will instruct
your office to send to me a bill for services, I will pay it. I
engaged you, and I am ready to pay for my stupidity. My car will
take you back to the station."

Smith picked up his hat and fumbled with it for a moment, plainly
dismayed.

"If I have been on the wrong lead, Mr. Wrandall, I am willing
to drop it and start all over again. I suppose your reward still
stands. I am sure we can--"

"It does not stand, sir. I shall withdraw it this very day. God
knows if I had thought it would lead us to this pass, it should
never have been offered. Now, go, sir."

Smith held his ground doggedly. "There are a few points I'd like
to--"

"No!"

"For the sake of justice and--"

Sara interrupted the man. She had crossed to Mr. Wrandall's side,
a queer light in her eyes. Her hand fell upon his trembling old
arm and he felt a thrill pass from her warm, strong fingers into
the very core of his body.

"Mr. Smith, will you give me an off-hand estimate of what your
services amount to in dollars and cents up to date?"

"You don't owe me anything, Mrs. Wrandall," said Smith, flushing
a dull red.

"You came here to give me a chance, Mr. Smith, feeling that I was
actually implicated. You had a price fixed in your mind. You still
have your doubts, in spite of what Mr. Wrandall says. It occurred
to you that it would be worth considerable to me if the investigation
went no farther. You realised that you could not have brought this
crime home to me, because you could not have found REAL, satisfying
evidence. But you could have gone to the newspapers with your
suspicions, and you could have made one-half the world believe that
an innocent person was guilty of a foul crime. The world loves its
sensations. It would have gloated over the little you could have
given it, and it would have damned me unheard. I owe you something
for sparing me a fate so wretched as that. Your price: What is it?"

"Sara!" cried Mr. Wrandall, aghast.

"My dear Mrs. Wrandall," cried Carroll, blinking his eyes, "you
are not thinking of--"

"I am thinking of paying Mr. Smith his price," said Sara calmly.

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