The Paternoster Ruby Part 22

"Did Mr. Page have a revolver?"

"Yes. But it is now in my possession. More than a week ago I was engaged with Mr. Page here until a late hour. It was necessary for me to go to his office to procure some papers; it was past eleven, and he handed me his pistol. I forgot to return it."

So much for the pistol. The weapon was immaterial.

"In pursuance of your duties as Mr. Page's confidential clerk, Mr.

Burke, you had occasion quite frequently to come here to the house, did you not?"

"Not frequently--sometimes."

"Were you familiar with his habits about the house?"

"I suppose so--yes."

"Which rooms did Mr. Page use the oftenest?"

"This one--and his bedroom. He scarcely ever entered any of the other rooms--seldom ascended the stairs."

"How would you account for the door-hinges on all three doors between the alcove and the bedroom having been freshly oiled?"

He did n't attempt to account for it; he merely evinced a mild surprise that such should have been the case. So, impatiently, I requested Dr.

De Breen to dismiss him.

I was anxious to have over with the real ordeal of the day, for I knew that I thus correctly characterized to myself Maillot's session in the witness-chair, and, if I was not much mistaken, whatever was to follow after he was through with his remarkable story. Correct as I was in a part of my a.s.sumption, everybody present was far from being prepared for the startling denouement.

Maillot began his account of Tuesday night's happenings in a straightforward way, and told it at length as convincingly as such an improbable story could be told at all. His injured eye was even worse discolored than it had been the previous day, and I--watching closely the half-dozen honest citizens with whom lay his immediate fate--observed that they noticed and commented upon it among themselves.

And my antic.i.p.ations presently began to be realized. As the young man made plain the purpose of his errand to Mr. Page, as he again went over all the extraordinary particulars of his uncle producing the ruby and promising to give it to him to convey to Mr. Fluette, I saw the jurors exchange questioning glances with one another; and then, as the enmity and ill feeling between the two men became more and more apparent, the six faces gradually came to a.s.sume expressions of open incredulity.

If the young lawyer remarked the effect of his testimony, which he could scarcely help doing, the circ.u.mstance seemed not to dismay him in the least. But the worst was yet to come: plainly, whatever doubts may have lingered in the minds of the jury during this stage of his examination, they were definitely dispelled when the witness frankly admitted that according to the best of his belief he was Felix Page's sole heir.

But to me Maillot's testimony was scarcely more than a running accompaniment to Alfred Fluette's strange behavior. It was impossible to interpret the seething conflict of thought and emotion which his haggard visage hid only indifferently; he stared at the young man, fascinated; but dominating every influence, gripping his very heart and biting like acid, I could discern the evidence of a horror which must inevitably drive him, sooner or later, to some violent outburst. It was manifestly more than human nature could endure.

Why?--I asked myself--why? Why should he be so profoundly stirred by the experience of one against whom he entertained such a strong antipathy? And so promptly that it took me by surprise, he supplied the potential answer to my unspoken question.

With a sudden movement, as if to sit longer inactive had become an unendurable torment, he stood upright, flung off his heavy overcoat and then whipped off his gloves.

_On the middle finger of his right hand gleamed a broad band of gold!_

I glanced at the sweet, concerned face of Genevieve Cooper. From the intentness with which she hung upon my every action and change of expression, I knew that she was trying to plumb the farther depths and learn the trend of the hidden currents of this drama, which was of such vital moment to her. I was glad that I could still offer her the encouragement of a smile.

My attention was directed to Maillot when one of the jurors began interrogating him.

"While Mr. Burke was absent," inquired the juror, "did you see the ruby?" His reference was to Burke's absence when he went to notify the police of the crime.

"I did not," was the reply. "I saw it no more after Mr. Page returned it to the jewel-case; I never even thought of it during the time of which you speak."

"Were you near the concealed safe?"

"Yes, sir--although at the time I did n't know that the open trap-door in the closet led to a safe. I saw that the small cavity was empty, and that was all I did observe about it."

"When did you first learn about the safe?"

"When Burke showed it to Mr. Swift yesterday morning."

"Why, then, in your testimony, did you say the deceased went to the safe after the ruby for the purpose of showing it to you?"

Maillot frowned and considered a moment.

"I did not make the a.s.sertion from knowledge of the act co-existent with the performance of the act itself," said Maillot at length, with a great show of deliberation. A man can't be utterly hardened who can quiz another at such a time. "I advanced it as the most likely theory by which to account for all of his actions during the time I waited here in the library, explaining the antecedent occurrence with knowledge subsequently acquired. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

The inquisitive juror stared a moment, then subsided. Dr. De Breen turned to me with a broad grin.

"That all?" he whispered.

I nodded. "Let the axe fall; I 'm curious to see what effect it will have."

Everybody's attention was abruptly diverted by Genevieve Cooper.

Without a word to any one, she rose precipitately, glided noiselessly across the room to the alcove, and disappeared behind the curtains.

Blank bewilderment brought me to my feet. What could have impelled her to this extraordinary move at such a critical stage? I started to follow her, but at that very instant the foreman started to announce the verdict.

Silence fell instantly. Maillot sat plucking aimlessly at the margin of a newspaper, the tiny fragments floating unheeded to the floor; while Miss Fluette, strikingly handsome with her transparent complexion, her red-brown hair, and clear hazel eyes, sat imperiously beside him, alone in her a.s.surance as to the outcome.

The young man seemed to have forgotten her presence, so deep was his abstraction. In a little while he pushed the paper to one side, and began feeling idly in a pocket of his vest. His mood was distrait, and in a moment he produced something that glittered; something that made me start and rivet my attention upon him.

The something was a broad gold ring. He toyed with it for a moment, apparently wholly absorbed. Then he slipped it upon the _middle finger of his right hand_!

The ring seemed to fit perfectly. He turned the hand over and back a number of times, inspecting the ornament from different angles of vision. After which, seemingly satisfied with his critical survey, he removed it from the finger and returned it to his pocket.

I studied the young man in perplexity. Here I had two rings on two different right hands: what was I to conclude from--

But events were moving swiftly, almost to the verge of confusion.

"We, the jury," read the foreman, with the tremulous, irresolute air of a man unaccustomed to forensic exercises, "find that Felix Page came to his death from a blow on the head, administered with some blunt instrument in the hands of--"

He got no further. At that instant a piercing feminine shriek rose in some remote part of the house. Coming as it did at such a juncture, when all present were hanging in suspense upon the words as they fell from the foreman's lips, it produced much the same effect as might have followed the explosion of a bomb in the company's midst. Miss Fluette gasped, and her face went as white as ashes. Maillot and Fluette were both instantly upon their feet, startled and tense.

The scream was a thrilling, prolonged note of horror. For one electric second my blood seemed to chill in my veins. The cry swelled in a quavering crescendo, lingered with the persistence of terror, then abruptly ceased, like the cutting off of a shrieking steam-jet.

For one awful moment everybody sat or stood as if petrified. If a bomb had exploded it might have pa.s.sed unnoticed. Then, with a wild, unnerving recollection of Genevieve, I rushed to the door.

"Don't let a soul stir from this room!" I hoa.r.s.ely shouted to Dr. De Breen.

In the next instant I had plunged into the hall, brushed aside the stupefied policeman there, and was taking the stairs four at a time.

CHAPTER XVI