The Diamond Pin Part 31

The details of the death of Mrs. Pell were quickly rehea.r.s.ed, and Fibsy's eyes darted round the room, taking in every detail of walls and furniture.

Hughes was astounded. Who was this insignificant boy that he should be consulted, and referred to? Why was an experienced detective, like himself, set aside, as of no consequence, while Fleming Stone watched absorbedly the face of the urchin?

"How did the murderer get out?" Hughes could not help saying, with a view to confusing the boy.

"Gee! If all you local police has concentrated your thinkers on that all this time, and hasn't doped it out yet, I can't put it over all at once!

But Mr. Stone, he'll yank the heart out o' the mystery, you can just bet. Of course, 'How'd the murderer get out?' is easy enough to sit around an' say--like a flock of parrots! The thing to do is to find out how he _did_ get out!"

Fibsy stood, hands in pockets, in front of the mantel, looking down at the floor.

"Here's where she was lyin'?" he asked gravely, and Iris nodded her head.

Leaning down, Fibsy looked up the chimney, and Hughes laughed out.

"Back number!" he said, looking bored, "Don't you s'pose we've investigated that chimney business? A monkey couldn't get up that little flue, let alone an able-bodied man!"

"That's so, my bucko!" and Fibsy beamed on Hughes, without a trace of rancor at the elder man's scorn.

"Now about the evidence against Mr. Bannard," Stone said to the local detective, "do I understand it's only the newspaper and cigarette that he was supposed to have left in this room----"

"Well," Hughes defended himself, "he had motive, he was seen around these parts, and he denies he was up here----"

"Never mind, I'll talk with him, please. I'll learn more from his own story."

"He isn't guilty, oh, Mr. Stone, he _isn't_ guilty!" Iris exclaimed, her beautiful eyes filling with tears. "Please get him out of that awful jail, can't you?"

"Let us hope so, Miss Clyde." Stone spoke abstractedly. "Where is the newspaper in question?"

"Here it is," and Iris took it from a drawer and handed it to him.

"Why, this has never been opened," exclaimed Stone.

"No," agreed Hughes, "when Bannard came up here Sunday morning on his bicycle, he had no thought for the day's news! He had other plans ahead.

He carried that paper up here without reading it, and he left it here, also unopened."

"Might 'a' been opened an' folded up again," offered Fibsy. "It has, too."

"I did that," said Hughes, importantly. "I opened it, the first time I saw it, naturally one would, and I refolded it exactly as it was. It's of no further value as evidence, but I made sure it hadn't been read.

You can always tell if a paper's been read or not."

"Sure you can," agreed Fibsy. "Where's this Mr. Bannard live?"

"In bachelor apartments in New York," said Iris.

"I mean, _where_ in New York?" the boy persisted

"West Forty-fourth Street."

"He ain't the murderer," and Fibsy handed the newspaper, that he had been glancing over, back to Hughes.

"You darling!" cried Iris, excitedly, grasping Fibsy's two hands. "Of course he isn't. But how do you know?"

"Don't go too fast, Fibs," said Fleming Stone, smiling with understanding at the boy. "Shall we say the real murderer lives somewhere near Bob Grady's place?"

"Yes, sir, _yes_! O Lord, what a muddle!"

Again the boy stood in front of the fireplace, musing deeply.

"New?" he said, turning to the electric lamp on the nearby table.

"Yes," said Iris, puzzled at his actions. "When the man knocked Auntie down the table was overturned and the lamp smashed to bits. We put a new one in its place."

"Oh, all right. Now where was that cigarette stub found, and how far was it burned?"

Hughes disliked to answer the boy's questions, but Fleming Stone turned expectantly toward him, so he replied, "It was on the desk, and it was about half-smoked."

"And this poker? Did it lie here, where it is now? Wasn't she hit with it?"

"Those things have all been thrashed out," replied Hughes, a little petulantly. "No, she wasn't hit with the poker, she was flung down and her head knocked onto the sharp k.n.o.b on the fender."

"How do you know?"

"There's a blood stain on the bra.s.s k.n.o.b, and her head was right by it.

The poker is two feet away."

"Might 'a' been used, all the same," and Fibsy stared at it.

"Howsumever, that don't count. We've got her dead, and we've got to find out who did it--and, so far, it wasn't Mr. Bannard."

"When will it begin to be Mr. Bannard?" said Hughes, with fine sarcasm.

"I mean," Fibsy returned, quietly, "so far, they ain't nothin' to implicate Mr. Bannard. Somethin' might turn up, though. But I don't think so. And anyway, the problem, first of all, ain't _who_, but _how_. That's what we must hunt out first, eh, Mr. Stone?"

"Very well, Terence," Stone spoke abstractedly, "you attend to that, while I find the pin. It seems to me that is the most important thing----"

"Ain't that F. S. all over!" cried Fibsy, admiringly. "Puts his finger on the very spot! An' me a babblin' foolishness about findin' how the chappie got in!"

"You do certainly babble foolishness," flung out Hughes, unable to conceal his annoyance at the boy's forwardness, as he looked upon it.

"Yes, sir," and Fibsy's humble acceptance of Hughes' reproof had no tinge of irony. The boy was not conceited or b.u.mptious, he was Stone's a.s.sistant, and took no orders save from his chief, but he never a.s.sumed importance on his own merit, nor behaved with insolence or impertinence to anyone. His only desire was to serve Fleming Stone, and an approving nod from the great detective was all the reward Terence Maguire desired.

And then, Fibsy seemed possessed of a new idea of some sort, for with a sudden exclamation and a word of excuse he ran from the room.

"Don't allow yourself to be annoyed by that boy, Mr. Hughes," said Stone; "he is a great help to me in any work. His manners are not intentionally rude, but sometimes he gets absorbed in an investigation, and he forgets what I've tried to teach him of courtesy and consideration for others. He's of humble birth, but I'm endeavoring to make him of gentlemanly behaviour. And I'm succeeding, on the whole, but in emergency the fervor of his soul runs away with the intent of his mind. For he wants to behave as I ask him to, I know that. Therefore, I forgive him much, and I must ask you to be also lenient."

Then, apparently feeling that he had done his duty by Hughes, the detective turned his attention to the room once more.

He scrutinized everything all over again. He left no minutest portion of the mantel, the table, the desk or the window draperies uninspected. A few taps at walls and part.i.tions brought the comment, "No secret entrance, and had there been, you people must have found it 'ere this.

It is a satisfaction to find so much of the investigating done already--and thoroughly done."