That Mainwaring Affair by A. Maynard Barbour (reading books for 4 year olds txt) 📕

"As near as I can judge from reading of the case," Merrick replied, "it seems to have been done with a purpose. His attorneys were leading up to that very point in such a manner that, when the climax was reached, she would involuntarily betray herself—as she did—thus confirming in the strongest manner the testimony already given."

"I believe you may be right," said the attorney, musingly, "though it had not occurred to me."

After a short pause, Merrick continued: "When I was first called to Fair Oaks, I suspected some relationship between that woman and the secretary, as he was then called; there was a marked resemblance between them; both had the same peculiar olive skin, while their features and carriage were almost identical."

"Yes, I recall your mentioning the likeness to me, and at the same time I was puzzled by the resemblance between him and Hugh Mainwaring. Well, I always said he was a mystery, and no wonder!"

They had reached the club-house by this time, and, as Merrick declined Mr. Whitney's invitation to enter, both men remained outside for a few moments. Once again, the attorney endeavored to sound the detective regarding his work and the progress he was making, but the latter suddenly became strangely uncommunicative.

"My client is going to charge Harold Mainwaring with the murder," said the attorney at last.

Merrick laughed scornfully, and for the second time that evening wheeled abruptly and turned down a side street, leaving Mr. Whitney standing upon the club-house steps, watching the rapidly retreating figure with mingled vexation and amusement.

"Something has upset Merrick," he soliloquized, as he finally turned towards the entrance; "who can he imagine is 'dogging' his tracks, as he terms it? These detectives seem about as jealous of their reputation as we lawyers are supposed to be. Ralph Mainwaring is going to engage 'the best legal talent that money can get!' H'm! when he comes to settle, he may find that my 'legal talent' will come just as high as the best of them."

Could Mr. Whitney have been present at a conference held that evening in one of the private parlors of the Waldorf, he might have had a better understanding of the cause of Merrick's perturbation.

Immediately upon returning to the hotel, Harold Mainwaring had communicated to the English attorney and to Mr. Scott the particulars of his interview with Mrs. LaGrange. Mr. Scott at once expressed his satisfaction at the outcome, in that she had rejected all offers of assistance except upon her own terms.

"That is best, that is best just as it is," he said, emphatically; "you do not want to be hampered with any obligations she might impose upon you, and as for ever recognizing or acknowledging any relationship, it is not to be thought of for one moment. Your course was right, perfectly right. But what was the statement of such importance which she was to make?"

"That is just what I am coming to," the young man replied; and drawing his chair closer to those of his companions, he repeated in low tones the secret intrusted to him by Mrs. LaGrange. The faces of the two men were a study as he ended his recital.

"Are you confident that she spoke the truth?" questioned Mr. Barton eagerly.

"I am positive that she did; she seemed like one terror-stricken, and said that the horror of it had haunted her day and night."

"There could be no reason in this instance for doubting her," commented Mr. Scott, thoughtfully; "she would have no motive for making such a statement if it were not true."

"My dear Mainwaring!" exclaimed the attorney, "it is what I have suspected ever since you gave me the details of the affair; you remember what I told you before we left London!"

"Certainly; but it seemed to me then too improbable."

"The improbable is, sometimes, what we must look for in cases like this," he replied; "McCabe should be put on to this immediately, and we must call Sutherland. I will summon him, myself, at once," and he left the room.

The foster-father and son, left for a few moments to themselves, had little to say, but sat looking into each other's faces with eyes full of meaning, each understanding what was in the other's heart. At last, as they heard returning footsteps, the elder man spoke,—

"It was a good thing you went there, my boy; come what may, you will never regret it."

"Never!" the other replied with emphasis.

It seemed but a few moments ere hurried steps were heard along the corridor, followed by a light, familiar knock, and Mr. Sutherland entered.

"I recognized your voice at the 'phone, Mr. Barton," said the attorney, after greetings had been exchanged, "and something in its tone, aside from the general import of your message, led me to believe that the call was of special importance, therefore I lost no time in coming here."

"You were correct," replied the English barrister; "we have made a most important discovery, bearing not only upon the case in hand, but also upon the Mainwaring murder case."

"Ah-h!" responded the attorney with evident interest; then drawing his chair near the group seated about the open fire, he asked, with a swift glance about the room, "But where is your 'clerk,' Mr. Barton? Should he not be present?"

"My 'clerk!'" replied Mr. Barton, with peculiar emphasis, and plainly appreciating the humor of the inquiry; "my 'clerk' is, I believe, at present engaged in most assiduously cultivating the acquaintance of Ralph Mainwaring's coachman."

Then, as Mr. Sutherland elevated his eyebrows in mute inquiry, he continued,—

"The coachman, I have understood, is a recent acquisition, taken, I believe, upon the recommendation of this Merrick; and while he seems eminently satisfactory as a coachman, I have my doubts as to whether he will prove quite so satisfactory to his superior officer upon his return."

"Ah, I see!" ejaculated the other; "he is what might be denominated a 'sub.'"

"Yes; and so exceedingly verdant that McCabe thought it worth while to make his acquaintance. But now to present business!"

Again the strange story was repeated, Mr. Sutherland listening with grave attention, which deepened as the recital proceeded, until, at its completion, he could scarcely restrain his enthusiasm; exultation was plainly written on his face, but there was a peculiar gentleness in his manner as he first approached his young client, saying in a low tone, as he cordially grasped his hand,—

"I realize, Mr. Mainwaring, all that this means to you, and I am sure you will understand me when I say that I congratulate you."

Harold Mainwaring bowed silently, and Mr. Sutherland, turning towards the English barrister, exclaimed, "This explains everything! This will make our case absolutely incontrovertible; but, first, we must secure that man at all hazards and at any cost just as quickly as possible; think what a witness he will make!"

"Just what I had in mind" was the response, "and McCabe is the man to locate him if he is upon the face of the earth. But we must decide immediately upon our own course of action, for this will necessitate certain changes in our plans, and we must act at once, and, at the same time, with the utmost caution and secrecy."

Dinner was ordered and served in the privacy of their own apartments that they might be entirely free from intrusion or interruptions during their deliberations, and it was at a late hour when, their consultation ended, they gathered about the open fire with their cigars, awaiting, with much self-congratulation and cheerful talk, the return of the absent McCabe.

"Confound it!" exclaimed Mr. Barton, presently, glancing at his watch; "what in the deuce is keeping that fellow so late? If we had not especially wanted him, he would have been here two hours ago."

"Perhaps," suggested Mr. Sutherland, "he may have found the coachman more communicative than he anticipated."

"He has doubtless struck some clue which he is following," was the reply; but at that instant there was a light tap at the door, and the man generally known as the English barrister's "clerk" entered.

"Well, Mac," said Mr. Barton, cheerfully, "'speak of the devil'—you know what follows! What luck to-night?"

"Very fair, sir," said the man, quietly taking in the situation at a glance, as he noted the eager, expectant faces of the four men, and, dropping into a chair near the group, he instantly assumed an attitude of close attention.

Ordinarily, McCabe was, as Mr. Whitney had remarked, rather an insignificant looking man. He was below medium stature and somewhat dull in appearance, owing to the fact that he seemed to take little interest in his surroundings, while his face, when his eyes were concealed, as was generally the case, by the heavily drooping lids and long eyelashes, was absolutely expressionless. When, however, he raised his eyes and fixed them upon any one, the effect was much the same as though a search-light suddenly flashed in one's face; but this was only upon rare occasions, and few casual observers would dream of the keen perceptive faculties hidden beneath that quiet exterior.

"Tell us your story first, Mac," said Mr. Barton, after a moment's silence, thoroughly understanding his man, "ours will keep for a little bit."

"There's not much to tell, sir."

"How are you and the coachman coming on?"

"We'll not be very intimate after to-night, I'm thinking."

"How is that?" questioned the attorney, at the same time smiling broadly at his companions.

"Well, sir, there'll be no call for it, for one thing, as I've got all the points in the case I wanted; and for another, his chief returned this evening, and, from the few words I overheard upon his arrival, I don't think the coachman will feel over-confidential the next time he sees me," and McCabe smiled grimly to himself.

"So Merrick is back!" interposed Mr. Sutherland, laughing. "Did you and he meet?"

"Meet, sir? Ah, no, not much o' that! I heard a step coming up the stairs, and as I thought the room was hardly big enough for three, I excused myself to Mr. Jim Matheson—alias Matthews, the coachman—and made for the hall. We passed each other at the head of the stairs, and I cluttered down, making as much racket as I could; then at the foot of the stairs I took off my boots and crept upstairs again, more to hear the fellow's voice than anything else, so I could recognize him afterwards."

"What did you hear?" inquired Mr. Barton, as McCabe paused to light a cigar which Mr. Sutherland had handed him.

"I heard him say, 'Who was that I passed outside, Jim?' 'Only a cross-country friend of mine,' says Jim. 'What friends are you entertaining here in these quarters?' says he, kind o' sharp like. 'An' sure,' says Jim, 'it was only Dan McCoy, the clerk of the big London lawyer who has come over with the young Mr. Mainwaring I've heard you speak of, and a right clever fellow he is, too!' 'Clerk!' he roars out, 'clerk, you blithering idiot! he's no more clerk than you are coachman, nor half so much, for you're fit for nothing but to take care of horses all your days! Do you want to know,' says he, 'who you've been entertaining?' That's no more nor less than Dan McCabe, a Scotland Yard man they've brought over, nobody knows what for, but whatever his game, he's made you play into his hand! I didn't stay to hear more," McCabe concluded, "I got out."

"But how does this Merrick know you?" Mr. Barton inquired, as the laughter caused by McCabe's recital subsided.

"He doesn't know me, he only knows of me," the man replied. "I found that out an hour or two later, when I met him in a crowd at the Wellington Hotel;" the speaker glanced curiously in the direction of Harold Mainwaring for an instant, and then continued, "I knew him by his voice, but I spoke with him, and he had no idea who I was."

"But how has he heard of you?" persisted Mr.