The Paternoster Ruby Part 17

We sat rigid and breathless, with our eyes glued to the slowly revolving door-k.n.o.b. At last a faint click announced that the latch was released. Then the door opened a few inches, to reveal the slender figure of Alexander Burke.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The door opened a few inches, to reveal the figure of Alexander Burke]

Manifestly he was ignorant of our presence. Neither I nor Miss Cooper stirred, and Burke was for the time being blinded by having come so abruptly from the snow glare into the comparative dimness of the hall.

I regretted that we were not in a position to follow his movements un.o.bserved, for of course he must be attracted to us the instant either of us stirred. I was exceedingly curious to learn what had brought him back to his employer's house.

And now he did a singular thing. His hand was still on the k.n.o.b, and only his head and the upper part of his body projected through the doorway. His att.i.tude was that of a strained listener; and had I not been there to testify to the contrary, one might have sworn that he received a warning not to enter. The silence, however, remained absolutely unbroken.

All at once a shudder convulsed his frame. He slowly withdrew his head, as if fearful of disturbing the house's lifeless occupant. Next he deliberately closed the door, without entering at all.

Miss Cooper turned to me in blank amazement, and for a moment I confess that I was nonplussed myself by such singular conduct. But in a second I comprehended: the fellow was afraid.

I laughed quietly, and explained to my companion:

"He expected to find the house thronged with people, and the undisturbed stillness dismayed him. . . . Careful! He's still on the porch, hesitating between desire to enter and fear to make the attempt.

Slip quietly into the library; I mean to find out what he 's after, if I can. He does n't need to know of your being here."

She colored, and nodded in comprehension, and at once tripped across the hall, carrying with her the card and jewel-box.

"Mind, I shall be close at hand," I whispered after her; which she acknowledged, before the door hid her from me, with one of her bright, friendly smiles.

I then went and threw the front door wide open. Burke jumped as if I had unexpectedly fired a shot at him.

"Come in," said I, dryly.

He stared unblinkingly at me for a moment, but during that moment he recovered his equanimity, and became again his customary inscrutable self. It would perhaps be too much to say that the color returned to his face, for it was colorless at all times. However, I knew that for once I had caught the man off his guard.

I surveyed him with derisive contempt.

"I didn't expect to find you here," he said at length.

"And all whom you did expect to find have gone," returned I. "But that's no reason why we should stand holding the door open and filling the house with cold. Come in."

"I don't understand you," said he, hesitating a second longer; "I was looking for no one."

I glanced out for some sign of Stodger, but saw nothing of him. Then I closed the door and placed my back against it.

"Perhaps no one in particular," I observed. "Neither did you antic.i.p.ate encountering such a forbiddingly empty house. Look here, Burke, what _did_ you come back for?"

His eyes might have been actually sightless, his pallid features a lifeless mask, for all the expression they conveyed; there was absolutely no facial sign by which I could even determine whether I commanded his attention; but his hands were never quiet, the slender, nervous fingers twitched unceasingly.

Was his mind occupied by the crack in the library door? For an instant I imagined that he detected Miss Cooper's presence, and my look hardened with a sudden gust of anger; but he immediately answered my question.

"I came for the papers I brought here last evening; they should be returned to the file-case."

"Is Mr. Page wanting them?" I inquired ironically.

"It's not a joking matter, Mr. Swift; it would be decidedly awkward for me to have them misplaced."

"Then I can set your mind at ease: I gave them to Mr. Ulysses White"--naming Mr. Page's lawyer.

Burke elevated the blank expanse where his eyebrows should have been.

"Don't you think," said he, in a tone of hurt surprise, "that you might properly have consulted me before making any disposition of them? I feel, in a way, responsible for all the business affairs which Mr. Page ordinarily entrusted to me."

"I daresay I might have done so," returned I, indifferently, "if you had been present when I handed them to Mr. White. Don't you regard them as being safe with him?"

"To be sure--they could n't be in safer hands. But it is the implication that I no longer command or deserve the confidence--"

"Pooh!" I unceremoniously cut in. "Burke, if I were you, I 'd be a little careful how I emphasized an att.i.tude of innocence toward this affair. There 's no implication or innuendo about; I 'm only too willing to tell you frankly that I am something more than suspicious of you. I _know_ that you have n't told everything you might about this murder. You 're lucky that I have n't run you in before this. Is that plain enough?"

He recoiled a step, with a queer, hissing intake of breath.

"Swift," he muttered, "I have half a mind to make you prove your words."

"Do," said I, grimly. "I would like nothing better."

He stared at me so long that it gave me an uncanny feeling. I broke the silence with a blunt demand.

"Burke, where 's that ruby?"

"Don't try to browbeat me," he said through his teeth. "Please understand that you are not dealing with a criminal, and I don't propose to be bulldozed by any fat-witted sleuths."

I laughed in his face.

"Maybe it will interest you to know that I have wit enough to contrast your secretive manner with Maillot's willingness to talk, and to draw the one consistent inference therefrom."

There is a nervous affliction of the eyes, called by pathologists nystagmus, which is characterized by a perpetual weaving to and fro of the eyeb.a.l.l.s; it is impossible for the unfortunate victim to fix his look upon a given point without the greatest effort. When the attention of such a one is not centred the swaying of his eyes goes on incessantly.

So it was now with Burke's pale orbs and his lean death's head. He seemed to be searching, forever feverishly searching, for something that he could not find. There was something positively repulsive about the man in this new guise, although the change was so subtle that I was unable to define it. At last he spoke.

"Swift," he said, scarcely above a whisper, "I 'm a peaceable man; nevertheless I resent your aspersions. I can't do it openly in the circ.u.mstances; this murder ties my hands; but--d.a.m.n you!" he suddenly spat at me, "if my silence would hang Royal Maillot, I 'd bite my tongue out before I 'd ever utter another word. There you have it."

I stared at him in astonishment. Was it possible that this cold-blooded creature could harbor an emotion as fiery as hatred?

"What have you against Maillot?" I sternly asked, after a pause.

His bloodless upper lip, thin and flexible, curled in a smile; there was a momentary flash of his teeth.

"You 're a detective," he said; "find out."

I pondered, still regarding him.

"So," said I at last, "it's to be warfare between you and me, is it?

Very well. Take care, Burke, for I do mean to find out. And I promise you that when I do you 'll get all you have coming to you."

He knew that I was more or less at sea; he had divined that in my own mind I had already cleared him of the actual murder.