At One-Thirty by Isabel Ostrander (adult books to read .txt) 📕

angered him to the extreme. I disapprove most strongly, of course, of the looseness of the lives of young men nowadays; but I knew that my sons were merely wild, not evil, and would in time marry suitably and settle down. My husband took an opposite view, and vowed he would leave his fortune in trust for them, that they might never have an opportunity to squander the principal. When, however, my eldest son, Garret, became infatuated with Natalie EUersKe, and married her, my husband took an absurd fancy to her, and felt that Garret’s future was safe in her hands; that she would, as he expressed, ‘make a man of him.’

“My own fortune was assured by an ante-nuptial agreement, and my husband left a miserable pittance—considering his great wealth—to Yates, and that in trust for him for life, with the Mammoth Trust Company, that he might never touch any part of it but the interest. The rest of his estate my husband divided into halves, giving one share to Garret ourtight, the other portion co be held in trust by the Mammoth Company, together with Its accruing interest for ten years. If, at the end of that period, Natalie had borne no child, that portion was to be divided, and one-half of it given outright to each of the brothers. If, on the other hand, Natalie had given birth to a child, or children, the Mammoth Company was to hold that part of the estate, not its interest, until the children were twenty-one, and then divide it among them. Do I make myself dear?”

“Perfectly.”

“It was a most unfair arrangement, as you can see, and naturally Yates resented it. A few months ago, when it became an assured fact that there was to be a child, Yates brought suit—an entirely friendly suit, I assure you, Mr. Gaunt—jointly against his brother and the Trust Company, to obtain his rightful share of the property and full control of it. It was merely to test the validity of the will, of course, and Yates lost. That is absolutely all there is in the story.”

“The suit was entirely friendly? There had been no serious quarrels preceding it?”

“Oh, little discussions, of course; but only such as occur in all families over money matters. The suit was brought as a perfectly amicable arrangement of them. Ypu can understand that we— Yates and I—would’ not be living here under my eldest son’s roof had it been otherwise.”

“Ah! Then, you sided with your youngest son in the matter, Mrs. Appleton?”

There was a rustle as the lady gave a start of annoyance at her involuntary slip, and the rapid rat-tat of the fingertips upon the polished wood was resumed.

“I sided with neither—there was no need. I have told you repeatedly that it was a perfectly amicable family arrangement.” ,

“Has this sudden tragedy affected your plans for the immediate future, Mrs. Appleton?” < Again the tapping ceased.

“Naturally, in the face of the attitude adopted by my daughter-in-law and her sister, my son and I will not remain another night under this roof. This afternoon, I shall go to the Blenheim Hotel, to remain there until my own house is ready to receive me. An hour ago, my son made arrangementSy by means of the telephone, to take over the bachelor apartments of a friend, in the Calthorp.”

“Ah! Mrs. Appleton, you approve of this move of your son’s?”

“I? Approve?” the lady’s voice was almost shrill in her astonishment at the sudden quesrion; but her fingers unconsciously began for the third time their agitated betrayal upon the soundingboards of the chair-arms. “I cannot understand your question, Mr. Gaunt. My son is no longer a child. His personal plans are his own. Whether he chooses to go to the Calthorp, or elsewhere, is of small moment to me.”

“Then, it is because of another reasoii that your son is the cause of some particular anxiety to you, just now?”

“Mr. Gaunt, your line of questioning is not only senselessly irrelevent, it is impertinent!” Her indignation was growing beyond the bounds of her studied self-control.

But the detective returned, imperturbably.

“Every time, during our present interview, Mrs. Appleton, when my Mine of questioning,’ as you term it, has led toward your youngest son, you have unmistakably betrayed your agitation.”

“My agitation? Would I, would any mother, not be agitated at such a time as this, when her eldest son lies dead, foully murdered, almost at her feet? But you are laboring under a strange delusion, if you imagine that I am especially perturbed at the mention of my youngest son. Why should such a thought have entered your mind?”

For answer, he tapped lightly, but with sharp insistence, on the arms of his own chair, and, after an instant, she comprehended.

“How absurd!” she ejaculated, with a contemptuous shrug of her shoulders; but there was a little running note of apprehension in her voice. “You are super-analytical, Mr. Gaunt. Are there any further questions you desired to ask me? I need scarcely remind you again that time presses.”

If he could only have seen her knuckles whiten, as she clasped her hands in her lap, so convulsively that the heavy rings cut cruelly into her wrinkled fingers, he might perhaps have pressed the matter in spite of her evident displeasure, but instead, he branched off upon a new subject of inquiry.

“Mrs. Appleton, was your eldest son ever, to your knowledge, in fear of his life? Had he any active enemy?”

Mrs. Appleton opened her lips for an indignant denial, when there came an unexpected interruption. There was a sudden commotion in the hall, the door was flung open, and a girl’s voice was heard in a shrill cry of horror. The next moment, someone entered precipitately, with a swirl of silken skirts, and flung herself upon the elder woman.

At the same instant, a whifF of cloying Orienul perfume, like incense, was wafted to the sensitive nostrils of Gaunt.

“What is this we have heard?” the same sharp young voice cried out. “Mrs. Appleton, what is it that has happened? We have heard horrible rumors—they cannot be true! Is Garret—”

“My dear child! My dear Doris!” the voice held more a warning than an appeal for sympathy. “Garret is dead! He was found, shot, in his den this morning! I know how badly you feel for us all, but you must calm yourself. You see how I am bearing up under the blow. This is no time for breaking down.” The caudous note seemed suddenly to deepen in significance. “I am talking to Mr. Gaunt, whom I have retained to investigate this terrible affair for us. Mr. Gaunt, this young lady is the daughter of an old family friend. Judge Carhart.”

“Garret dead!” The girFs voice trembled. “I cannot believe it! I cannot realize it! Dead! And only last night—” The voice ceased, with a little, quick catch of the breath. Had she paused because of the fear that she would break down under the stress of shock and sympathetic emotion, or because of a warning gesture, a pressure of the arm, perhaps, from Mrs. Appleton?

“Judge Carhart and his daughter dined with us last evening,” the elder woman’s smooth, hard voice explained carefully. “Garret was well and in the best of spirits. It is difficult for the young to realize—”

“My dear Catherine! My poor old friend!” a rich, full-toned fatherly voice sounded from the doorway. “We have come, Doris and I, to utter what consolation we may, and give you and yours what aid lies in our power!”

“Ah, Judge Carhart, I am so very glad to see you!” Mrs. Appleton’s tones for the first time rang with a warm human note. “Come in, please. This is Mr. Gaunt, of whom you have doubtless heard. I called him in at once.”

“Mr. Gaunt!” The detective’s hand was grasped cordially. “My old friend is fortunate to have obtained your services. Your work, sir, in the Marbridge case, and the Delamater murders, came under my judicial notice, and commanded my admiration. But you were in consultation with Mrs. Appleton. My daughter and I will withdraw.”

“By no means, Judge Carhart. My interview was almost at an end, and I should like to put a question or so to you, if I may. I understand you and Miss Carhart dined here last evening.”

“We did, sir.”

“There were other guests?”

“No.” It was Mrs. Appleton who replied. “Only our family, the Judge, and his daughter.”

“Did you nodce anything unusual in Mr. Appleton’s—Mr. Garret Appleton’s—appearance, or manner, during the evening. Judge Carhart?”

“No, nothing whatever,” the Judge’s tone held a hint of astonishment at the question. ^‘Did you, Doris?”

The girl caught her breath suddenly, with a little hiss, then replied in a low, studiously controlled tone.

“No, daddy, of course not. Why should there have been?”

“Mr. Gaunt, Coroner Hildebrand would like to speak to you.” It was Yates Appleton’s voice, breaking in upon them.

“Ask him to come in here—and you, too, Mr. Appleton.” Gaunt leaned forward in his chair.

Young Mr. Appleton entered, followed by the Coroner, who remained standing just within the door, eying the detective somewhat doubtfully.

“Coroner, the autopsy has been performed?” Gaunt asked, sharply. “You have abstracted the bullet? I should like to know at once in the presence of Judge Carhart and these members of the family.”

“It was fired from a thirty-two-caliber revolver, Mr. Gaunt.”

“A thirty-two—a thirty-two!” the detective repeated, thoughtfully. Then, he wheeled suddenly toward where the younger son was standing.

“Mr. Appleton, did your brother possess a revolver?”

“Certainly not!” the mother cut in harshly, before her son could answer. “What could lead you to suppose that Garret should have such a thing in his possession?”

“Did he?” Gaunt persisted quietly, of the young man. “It is not uncommon, you knoW, for gentlemen to keep such a weapon in their homes, to guard against burglars and the like. Have you ever seen a revolver in your brother’s hands?”

“I—I believe he did have one soniewhere, now that I think of it,” Yates Appleton admitted, sullenly. There was a quick sharp ejcdamation from his mother; but no one, save perhaps the detective, noted it.

“Was it of thirty-two caliber?”

“I don’t know, I—I never noticed it particularly.”

“Did your brother ever fire it?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Did anyone else ever handle it?”

“I never saw anybody. My brother had it a long time. I don’t know why he got it—probably for protection against burglars, as you say. I don’t even know that it was ever loaded.”

“Where did he keep it?”

“I haven’t the least idea. It’s months since I saw it.”

“Where did you see it last?”

The questions were pelted pitilessly at him, and he was visibly writhing about under them. At the last one, he blurted out desperately:

“In the— the den.”

“Will you go, please, and bring it here?”

“I don’t know where it is, I tell you!” he almost shouted, the perspiration standing out in great beads on his forehead.

“Will you go to the den, and look for it?” Then, as the young man seemed to hesitate, he added: “Mr. Appleton’s body has been removed.”

With a sudden movement, Yates Appleton turned and bolted from the room, and those within it sat in a tense silence, waiting.

Finally, there was an exclamation, almost a shout, from down the hall, and the young man rushed in.

“It’s gone!” he cried. “Someone’s taken it! It’s gone from the drawer, where he always kept it!”

Damon Gaunt reached in his hip-pocket, and drew forth something, which he held out.

“Is this it?” he asked, quietly.

Yates Appleton snatched it from his hands.

“Let me see!” he bent, trembling, over it. Then, he turned roughly upon the detective. “Yes, by gad, it is! And you’re a fool