"Mr. Burroughs," she said, and there was almost a challenge in her tone, "why do you ask me these things? You are a detective, you are here to find out for yourself, not to ask others to find out. I am innocent of my uncle's death, of course, but when you cast suspicion on the man to whom I am betrothed, you cannot expect me to help you confirm that suspicion. You have made me think by your remark about a man on a late train that you refer to Mr. Hall. Do you?"
This was a change of base, indeed. I was being questioned instead of doing the catechising myself. Very well; if it were my lady's will to challenge me, I would meet her on her own ground.
"You took the hint very quickly," I said. "Had you thought of such a possibility before?"
"No, nor do I now. I will not." Again she was the offended queen. "But since you have breathed the suggestion, you may not count on any help from me."
"Could you have helped me otherwise?" I said, detaining her as she swept by.
To this she made no answer, but again her face wore a troubled expression, and as she went slowly from the room, she left me with a strong conviction that she knew far more about Gregory Hall's connection with the matter than she had told me.
I sat alone for a few moments wondering what I had better do next.
I had about decided to go in search of Parmalee, and talk things over with him, but I thought it would be better to see Louis first, and settle up the matter of his rose more definitely.
Accordingly I rang the bell, and when the parlor maid answered it, I asked her to send both Louis and Elsa to me in the library.
I could see at once that these two were not friendly toward each other, and I hoped this fact would aid me in learning the truth from them.
"Now, Louis," I began, "you may as well tell me the truth about your home coming last Tuesday night. In the first place, you must admit that you were wearing in your coat one of the yellow roses which had been sent to Miss Lloyd."
"No, no, indeed!" declared Louis, giving Elsa a threatening glance, as if forbidding her to contradict him.
"Nonsense, man," I said; "don't stand there and tell useless lies. It will not help you. The best thing you can do for yourself and for all concerned is to tell the truth. And, moreover, if you don't tell it to me now, you will have to tell it to Mr. Goodrich, later. Elsa gave you a yellow rose and you wore it away that evening when you went to see your young lady.
Now what became of that rose?"
"I - I lost it, sir."
"No, you didn't lose it. You wore it home again, and when you retired, you threw it on the floor, in your own room."
"No, sir. You make mistake. I look for him next day in my room, but cannot find him."
I almost laughed at the man's ingenuousness. He contradicted his own story so unconsciously, that I began to think he was more of a simpleton than a villain.
"Of course you couldn't find it," I informed him, "for it was taken from your room next day; and of course you didn't look for it until after you had heard yellow roses discussed at the inquest."
Louis's easily read face proved my statement correct, but he glowered at Elsa, as he said: "Who take him away? who take my rose from my room."
"But you denied having a rose, Louis. Now you're asking who took it away. Once again, let me advise you to tell the truth.
You're not at all successful in telling falsehoods. Now answer me this: When you came home Tuesday night, did you or did you not walk around the house past the office window?"
"No, sir. I walked around the other side. I - "
"Stop, Louis! You're not telling the truth. You did walk around by the office, and you dropped your transfer there. It never blew all around the house, as you have said it did."
A look of dogged obstinacy came into the man's eyes, but he did not look at me. He shifted his gaze uneasily, as he repeated almost in a singsong way, " go round the other side of the house."
It was a sort of deadlock. Without a witness to the fact, I could not prove that he had gone by the office windows, though I was sure he had.
But help came from an unexpected quarter.
Elsa had been very quiet during the foregoing conversation, but now she spoke up suddenly, and said: "He did go round by the office, Mr. Burroughs, and I saw him."
I half expected to see Louis turn on the girl in a rage, but the effect of her speech on him was quite the reverse. He almost collapsed; he trembled and turned white, and though he tried to speak, he made no sound. Surely this man was too cowardly for a criminal; but I must learn the secret of his knowledge.
"Tell me about it, Elsa," I said, quietly.
"I was looking out at my window, sir, at the back of the house; and I saw Louis come around the house, and he came around by the office side."
"You're positive of this, Elsa? you would swear to it?
Remember, you are making an important assertion."
"I am telling the truth, sir. I saw him plainly as he came around and entered at the back door."
"You hear, Louis?" I said sternly. "I believe Elsa's statement rather than yours, for she tells a straight story, while you are rattled and agitated, and have all the appearance of concealing something."
Louis looked helpless. He didn't dare deny Elsa's story, but he would not confirm it. At last he said, with a glance of hatred at the girl, "Elsa, she tell that story to make the trouble for me."
There was something in this. Elsa, I knew, was jealous, and her pride had been hurt because Louis had taken the rose she gave him, and then had gone to call on another girl. But I had no reason to doubt Elsa's statement, and I had every reason to doubt Louis's. I tried to imagine what Louis's experience had really been, and it suddenly occurred to me, that though innocent himself of real wrong, he had seen something in the office, or through the office windows that he wished to keep secret. I did not for a moment believe that the man had killed his master, so I concluded he was endeavoring to shield someone else.
