The House Opposite Part 7

"Yes," she answered, "as there was no way of getting any food here, my friend" (she hesitated slightly over the last word) "had little difficulty in persuading me to dine with him at a quiet restaurant in the neighbourhood."

"Did the gentleman return to the Rosemere after dinner?"

"Yes."

"And did he leave you then?"

Miss Derwent hesitated a moment, then, throwing her head back she answered proudly: "No!" But a deep crimson again suffused her cheek, and she added almost apologetically: "It was all so unconventional that I did not see why I should draw the line at his spending the evening with me. He was a very intimate friend."

"Why do you use the past tense?" asked Mr. Merritt. She cast a little frightened glance in his direction, evidently startled at being caught up so quickly: "We--we had a very serious disagreement," she murmured.

"Was the disagreement so serious as to put an end to your friends.h.i.+p?"

inquired the detective.

"Yes," she replied curtly, while an angry light came into her eyes.

"At what time did the gentleman leave you?" resumed the Coroner.

"It was very late;--after eleven, I think."

"And you have not seen him again since then?"

"Certainly not," she replied.

"Why did you not carry out your first intention of leaving the city on the following morning?"

The girl appeared slightly embarra.s.sed as she answered: "I did not feel like paying visits just at the moment, and besides I had not enough money to carry me as far as Bar Harbor. My maid had most of my money, and I was no longer willing to borrow from my visitor, as I had intended doing."

"Excuse my questioning you still further," said the Coroner, with a glance of admiration at the beautiful girl, who was fretting under the examination, "but, why, then, didn't you return to your home?"

"I did not wish to do so." Then, catching Mr. Merritt's eye, she added: "I had been a good deal upset by--by what had occurred the night before and felt the need of a day to myself. Besides, I had some shopping to do, and thought this a good opportunity to do it. I am going home this morning."

"Thank you, Miss Derwent," exclaimed the Coroner, heartily; "your explanations are perfectly satisfactory. Only you have forgotten to tell us the gentleman's name."

"Why need you know his name?" she demanded, pa.s.sionately, "you will soon find out who this unknown man is. There must be hundreds of people in this city who knew him. Why should I tell you the name of my visitor? I refuse to do so."

"Miss Derwent is quite right," interposed the detective, with unexpected decision; "once convinced that the dead man and her friend are not identical, and the latter's name ceases to be of any importance to us."

"Quite so, quite so," the Coroner rather grudgingly a.s.sented.

"Can I go now?" she inquired.

"Certainly," said the Coroner, cordially. "Good-day, Miss."

I was just going to offer myself as an escort when Mr. Merritt stepped quietly forward, and possessed himself of the young lady's bag. With a distant bow, that included impartially the Coroner and myself, Miss Derwent left the room.

"Remember Mrs. Atkins," the detective murmured as he prepared to follow her. I nodded a curt a.s.sent. My brain was in a whirl. What was I to believe? This beautiful, queenlike creature seemed incapable of deceit, and yet--who were the two people I had so lately seen in her apartment?

Why had no mention been made of them? No matter; I felt my belief in the young girl's innocence and goodness rise superior to mere facts, and then and there vowed to become her champion should she ever need one, which I very much feared she might. I was vaguely annoyed that the detective should have insisted on escorting her. Had he a motive for this, I wondered, or had he simply succ.u.mbed to her fascination, like the rest of us? At any rate, I didn't like it, and I rang Mrs. Atkins's bell in considerable ill humour.

CHAPTER V

MRS. ATKINS HOLDS SOMETHING BACK

"Is Mrs. Atkins ready?" I inquired of the pretty maid. Before she had time to answer, I heard the frou-frou of silk skirts advancing rapidly towards me. The perfume I had already noticed grew still more overpowering, and the lady herself appeared. And an exceedingly pretty little woman she proved to to be, too, with golden hair and cheeks that rivalled the roses. Her large blue eyes were as innocent and, it would be hypercritical to add, as expressionless as her sisters' of the toy-shop. A white muslin garment, slashed in every direction to admit of bands and frills of lace, enveloped her small person, and yards of blue ribbon floated around her. Her tiny, dimpled fingers were covered with glittering rings, which, however, scarcely outshone her small pink nails. She beamed coquettishly at me, showing some very pretty, sharp little teeth as she did so, and I found myself smiling back at her, completely forgetting the tragic errand I had come on.

"Oh, Doctor," she cried, in a high treble voice, "isn't it dreadful!

They tell me that a poor man has been killed in the building, and I am so terrified at having to look at him! Must I really do so?" She wrung her hands in graceful distress.

"I'm afraid you must," I replied, smiling down at her.

"But you will go with me, won't you?" she begged.

"Certainly, dear Madam, and if your servants are also ready we had better get it over immediately."

As the lady crossed the threshold of her apartment she tucked her hand confidingly into my arm, as if the support of the nearest man were her indisputable right, and, followed by the two servants, we proceeded in this fas.h.i.+on down-stairs. Mr. Merritt met us on the landing, and, signing to the two girls to wait outside, ushered us into the room where the body lay.

As Mrs. Atkins caught sight of the dead man a great shudder shook her whole body, and I felt the hand on my arm grow suddenly rigid. She neither screamed nor fainted, but stood strangely still, as if turned to stone, her eyes riveted on the corpse in a horrified stare.

"Mrs. Atkins?" inquired the Coroner.

She seemed incapable of answering him.

"Mrs. Atkins," he repeated, a little louder, "do you recognise the deceased?"

This time she moved slightly and tried to moisten her grey lips. At last, with a visible effort, she slowly raised her eyes and glanced about her with fear.

"No, no," she murmured, in a hollow voice.

"Mrs. Atkins, I must request you to look at the dead man again," the detective said, fixing his eyes on her. "One of the elevator boys has identified the body as that of a gentleman who called on you on Tuesday evening."

She raised her arm as if to ward off a blow, and moved slightly away from me.

"I don't know the man," she said.

"You deny that he called on you on Tuesday evening?"

"I do," she answered, in a steady voice.

I saw that she was rapidly recovering her self-control, and I made up my mind that I had misjudged the little woman. Under that soft, childish exterior must lie an indomitable will.

"Do you deny that you received a man on that evening?" She glanced hastily at each of us before answering: "No."

"Oh, you did see a gentleman? Who was he?"