And her motives were of the best and purest. All she desired was to get some hint, some clue, as to which way to look for a possible suspect.
Walking lightly, though taking no especial precautions of silence, she went slowly down stairs, and reached the door of the library. From the hall, as she stood at the portière, she heard some one talking inside the room. Listening intently she recognized the voice of Eleanor Black at the telephone.
Yes, Mrs. Black was saying: keep still about it for the present, yes, yes, Ill do whatever you say, but dont come here tonight. You see it was an Italian yes, Ill meet you tomorrow at the same time and same place. No, dont call me up, when I can, Ill call you.
Hearing the click that told of the hanging up of the receiver Avice quickly stepped aside into an alcove of the hall, where she could not be seen.
But apparently, Mrs. Black had no thought of any one near her, for she turned off the library table light she had been using, and softly went upstairs. A low hall light was sufficient illumination for this, and Avice saw her go.
After waiting a few moments, the girl went into the library, and first closing the door, she switched on the light.
Taking up the telephone, she said to the operator, Please tell me that number I just had. I cant remember it, and I want to preserve it.
Sleepily the girl responded, telling the number and exchange.
Thank you, said Avice, and hanging up the receiver she went to the desk and jotted down the number.
Not that I have the least suspicion of Eleanor, she said to herself, but if Im going to investigate, I mustnt leave a stone unturned, especially anything so unusual as a midnight telephoning.
And then Avice set herself to the task she had come for. But she found nothing definite or incriminating. There were some old and carefully preserved notes from men who were very evidently angry with her uncle, but they were not sufficiently strong to point to anything criminal. There was the usual collection of bills, business letters and memoranda, but nothing to interest or alarm her, and finally, growing wearied, she went back upstairs.
As she passed Mrs. Blacks door it softly opened, and the lady herself, wrapped in a kimono, looked out. Her long black hair hung in two braids, and her eyes were very bright.
Avice, where have you been? At this time of night!
Just down in the library, looking after some matters.
Well, its time you were in bed, and the door closed again.
Hm, thought Avice, she is afraid I heard her telephoning! Thats why shes on the watch!
And now, her momentary weariness gone, Avice was again widely awake.
Ive got to think it out, she told herself. I dont for a minute imagine Eleanor is implicated in Uncle Rowlys death, but what was she telephoning for? And she said it was an Italian, and shes Italian herself, and theres something queer. Im glad I got that telephone number, but I doubt if Ill ever use it. It doesnt seem quite right now, though it did when I asked Central for it. I believe Ill tear it up.
But she didnt.
CHAPTER III
PINCKNEY, THE REPORTER
Theres no use mincing matters, said Mrs. Black, as she and Avice sat at breakfast next morning: I was your uncles promised wife and I feel that it is, therefore, my right to assume the head of the household and give orders.
Avice looked at her sadly. I have no objection to your giving orders so long as they in no way interfere with my plans or wishes. But I think it would be pleasanter for us both if you were to drop that defiant air, and let us be on a more friendly footing. I quite appreciate your position here, but you must remember that though you were engaged to my uncle you were not married to him and that
That makes no difference in reality! As his future wife, I have every right of a wife already, so far as this house is concerned. Indeed, it is already mine, by will as you are soon to find out.
Very well, Mrs. Black, said Avice, wearily, lets not quarrel over it. Im sure I dont want this house, and I am not at all afraid that my uncles will leaves me unprovided for. I wish the coroner would come! I long to get to work on the solution of the mystery.
How you talk! and Mrs. Black shuddered delicately; I dont see how you can bear to have to do with those awful investigations!
Would you sit calmly down, and let the murderer go scot-free?
Yes, rather than mix in with that awful coroner man, and worse still, detectives! Mrs. Black brought out the word as if she had said scorpions.
Avice was about to make an indignant reply, when the bell rang, and the card was brought in of Mr. Pinckney, a reporter.
Dont see him, said Mrs. Black, looking scornfully at the card.
Indeed I shall, and Avice rose determinedly. Why, if I dont set him straight, theres no telling what hell print!
Realizing this, Mrs. Black followed the girl into the library, and together they met the reporter.
Awfully sorry to intrude, said a frank-faced, nice-voiced young man. Often I wish Id chosen any other career than that of a reporter. Downright good of you to see me, Miss Trowbridge, isnt it?
Yes, said Avice, I am Miss Trowbridge and this is Mrs. Black.
What can we tell you? said Mrs. Black, acknowledging the visitors bow, and quickly taking the initiative. There is so little to tell
Ah, yes, and the interrupting Pinckney deliberately turned to Avice. But you will tell me all you know, wont you? Its so annoying to the family to have details made up and we must get the news somehow.
His youthful, almost boyish air pleased Avice, who had thought reporters a crude, rather slangy lot, and she responded at once.
Indeed I will Mr. Pinckney. Its horrid to have things told wrongly, especially a thing like this. Her eyes filled, and the reporter looked down at his still empty notebook.
But, dont you see, Miss Trowbridge, he said, gently if you tell me the details it might help in unearthing the truth, for you dont know who did it, do you?
No, we dont broke in Eleanor Black; youd better not try to talk Avice, dear, you are so unstrung. Let me answer Mr. Pinckneys questions.
Im not unstrung, Eleanor, at least not so much so that I cant talk. Mr. Pinckney, if you can be of assistance in any way of solving the mystery of my uncles death, I shall be very grateful. The inquest will be held this morning, and I suppose, I hope that will throw some light on it all. But just now I know of no way to look.
Oh of course, it was a highway robber, said Mrs. Black. There can be no doubt of it.
But is there any proof of it? and the reporter looked at her inquiringly. No doubt is not sufficient, proof positive is what we want.
Of course, we do, agreed Avice. Just think, Mr. Pinckney, we know nothing but that my uncle was stabbed to death in the woods. We dont even know why he went into the woods. Though that, of course, is probably a simple reason. He was a naturalist and went often on long tramps looking for certain specimens for his collections.
Yes, that would explain his being there, said Pinckney, eagerly. Did you know he was going?
No; on the contrary he said he would be home at five oclock.