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"Are you certain you put it in the clothes closet?"
"Positive. Where did you find it?"
"Never mind that just now. Do you keep your shoes in that closet?"
"I do. But why--"
"Will you kindly see if all of your shoes are there?"
The girl ran over, opened the closet door, and began an immediate examination.
"One pair is missing--a pair I use a great deal, too," she said a minute later. "Oh, Mr. Adams, what does this mean?"
"I don't know--yet. While you are at it, you might let me know if anything else is missing."
Margaret began a close examination of everything in the closet, the detective watching her as keenly as he had before.
"She is either innocent, or else the greatest actress I've ever met,"
was his mental conclusion. "I think her innocent, but the best of us get tripped up at times. If she is innocent, that evidence was manufactured to prove her guilty. If only I had followed that man up!
I might have learned something worth knowing."
"Nothing else seems to be missing," announced the girl, at length.
"Very well; then don't waste time by searching further. By the way, did you know Mr. Thomas Ostrello had arrived?"
"Yes; I told Raymond to telegraph for him. He used to call quite often to see his mother."
"What about the other son--d.i.c.k?"
"I do not know where he is."
"Didn't he come here?"
"He came once. But he is a dissipated young man, and I do not think my stepmother cared much for him."
"But she did think a good deal of the one who is now downstairs?"
"Yes, although they occasionally had their quarrels, just as we had ours. Tom would plead for his brother d.i.c.k, who seemed to be always wanting money. Once my father took a hand and said his wife shouldn't give d.i.c.k a cent more, as he only squandered it. That made Tom angry, and he had a quarrel with my father, and after that when Tom came he would ask to see only his mother, although he and I remained on fairly good terms."
"Tom was here the day before the tragedy?"
"Yes. I think he came to see his mother about some private business.
They had a long talk in her room, and she seemed to be quite excited when he went away. I don't know what it was all about. But, Mr.
Adams, are you not hungry, and won't you have a lunch?"
"Thanks, I'll take a bite."
The lunch was served in Margaret's apartment, and the detective did ample Justice to it, for he never allowed business to interfere with his appet.i.te. As he ate, the girl watched him curiously.
"Mr. Adams," she said presently, "do you know, you do not seem a bit like a detective to me--I mean like the detectives you read about--the men going about in wonderful disguises and the like, and doing marvelous things? And yet, I know you have a wonderful reputation--Raymond told me about it."
At that he smiled broadly. "Wonderful disguises, eh? Well, I use them when I think them necessary, and not otherwise. When I started out, years ago, I used a great many more than I do now. To me a mystery of this sort is a good deal like a cut-up picture that you give a child to put together. First, you want to make sure you have all the pieces, and then you want to sit down, put on your thinking-cap, and match the pieces together. To you this is an awful tragedy," his tone softened greatly, "to me it is another case, nothing more. Work such as I have done is bound to harden a fellow, in spite of all of his finer feelings. But I feel for you and you have my sympathy."
"And you will aid me? You said you would," she pleaded.
"I am going to do what I can--no man can do more."
CHAPTER VI
THE MYSTERY DEEPENS
From the Langmore mansion Adam Adams went to town, and at the morgue made a careful inspection of the pair who had been the victims of the tragedy. This critical examination brought nothing new to light, and he turned away from the place with something of disappointment.
"I'll take a look around that brook again, and see if that strange man is anywhere in sight," he told himself, and got back to the vicinity without delay.
Fortune favored him for once, for scarcely had he reached the back of the Langmore mansion when he saw the stranger leap the brook again and come up towards the house.
"Just in time," murmured the detective. "He shall not slip me again in a hurry."
The stranger was very much on his guard, and Adam Adams had all he could do to keep out of his sight. It was now growing dark, especially under the trees which surrounded the mansion.
At length the fellow gained a point almost under one of the library windows. He gazed around sharply, and then appeared to be searching for something on the ground. The detective saw him start to pick something up, but at that moment the side door of the mansion opened and the policeman came out.
"Hullo! What are you doing here?" demanded the officer.
"Oh, that's all right," was the low answer. "Don't mind me."
"But what are you doing here?"
"Just looking around, that's all."
"You haven't any right in this yard."
"I think I have."
"Who are you?"
"My name is Watkins--Jack Watkins," and then some words followed which Adam Adams did not catch.
"Oh, then I suppose that makes a difference," came from the policeman in a more humble tone. "Do you want to come in the house and see Miss Langmore?"
"No, I don't want to see the girl. But I'll come into the house,"
answered the strange man, and walked up the piazza steps and into the mansion, with the policeman by his side.
As soon as the fellow was ought of sight, Adam Adams drew closer and looked under the bushes where the other had been searching.