Free The Circular Staircase by Mary Roberts Rinehart Page B

of me."
     
      I sat bolt upright at that and gasped.
     
      "The Armstrongs!" I repeated. "With old Peter Armstrong driving a stage across the mountains while your grandfather was war governor--"
     
      "Well, of course, the war governor's dead, and out of the matrimonial market," Halsey interrupted. "And the present Innes admits himself he isn't good enough for--for Louise."
     
      "Exactly," I said despairingly, "and, of course, you are taken at your own valuation. The Inneses are not always so self- depreciatory."
     
      "Not always, no," he said, looking at me with his boyish smile. "Fortunately, Louise doesn't agree with her family. She's willing to take me, war governor or no, provided her mother consents. She isn't overly-fond of her stepfather, but she adores her mother. And now, can't you see where this thing puts me? Down and out, with all of them."
     
      "But the whole thing is absurd," I argued. "And besides, Gertrude's sworn statement that you left before Arnold Armstrong came would clear you at once."
     
      Halsey got up and began to pace the room, and the air of cheerfulness dropped like a mask.
     
      "She can't swear it," he said finally. "Gertrude's story was true as far as it went, but she didn't tell everything. Arnold Armstrong came here at two-thirty--came into the billiard-room and left in five minutes. He came to bring--something."
     
      "Halsey," I cried, "you MUST tell me the whole truth. Every time I see a way for you to escape you block it yourself with this wall of mystery. What did he bring?"
     
      "A telegram--for Bailey," he said. "It came by special messenger from town, and was--most important. Bailey had started for here, and the messenger had gone back to the city. The steward gave it to Arnold, who had been drinking all day and couldn't sleep, and was going for a stroll in the direction of Sunnyside."
     
      "And he brought it?"
     
      "Yes."
     
      "What was in the telegram?"
     
      "I can tell you--as soon as certain things are made public. It is only a matter of days now," gloomily.
     
      "And Gertrude's story of a telephone message?"
     
      "Poor Trude!" he half whispered. "Poor loyal little girl! Aunt Ray, there was no such message. No doubt your detective already knows that and discredits all Gertrude told him."
     
      "And when she went back, it was to get--the telegram?"
     
      "Probably," Halsey said slowly. "When you get to thinking about it, Aunt Ray, it looks bad for all three of us, doesn't it? And yet--I will take my oath none of us even inadvertently killed that poor devil."
     
      I looked at the closed door into Gertrude's dressing-room, and lowered my voice.
     
      "The same horrible thought keeps recurring to me," I whispered. "Halsey, Gertrude probably had your revolver: she must have examined it, anyhow, that night. After you--and Jack had gone, what if that ruffian came back, and she--and she--"
     
      I couldn't finish. Halsey stood looking at me with shut lips.
     
      "She might have heard him fumbling at the door he had no key, the police say--and thinking it was you, or Jack, she admitted him. When she saw her mistake she ran up the stairs, a step or two, and turning, like an animal at bay, she fired."
     
      Halsey had his hand over my lips before I finished, and in that position we stared each at the other, our stricken glances crossing.
     
      "The revolver--my revolver--thrown into the tulip bed!" he muttered to himself. "Thrown perhaps from an upper window: you say it was buried deep. Her prostration ever since, her--Aunt Ray, you don't think it was Gertrude who fell down the clothes chute?"
     
      I could only nod my head in a hopeless affirmative.
     
     
     
     
     
     

CHAPTER X THE TRADERS BANK
     
     
      The morning after