Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 6, 1923 — page 82: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

864 criminology ran: never overlook the evi- dence held back by those nearest to the tragedy or those affected by it! Miss Greenwood had carefully withheld all this information. Was she shielding herself, Dorothy Cavendish, or whom? Yet the old Frenchman emphasized the vital impor- tance of such withheld testimony. Nancy launched her next question with the suddenness of a pistol shot. “Why had you an appointment with Mr. Kent and Mr. Shoreham to transfer some property inherited from your mother to Mile. Ivette Mignonne, the medium?” Dorothy Cavendish uttered a little gur- gling gasp and cowered before Nancy’s flashing eyes. “You know that?” her pallid lips whis- pered. “Yes. Why? You must answer.” ‘“T cannot,” wailed the girl. ‘And why?” ‘“‘ Because, oh, because—I-—I am afraid to, now that my f-father d-died s-so—”’ ‘“You heard what he said?” “Ves, oh, yes.” A violent fit of trem- bling seized the girl. ‘What did he mean?” “JT do not know.” Yet in the girl’s hunt- ed eyes did Nancy see shadowed there the cloud of some dreadful suspicion? ‘Then why can’t you tell the reason for your attempted property transfer?” ‘‘ Because I cannot—I cannot. I afraid—”’ ‘“Of whate”’ “That it might look queer that if—if they should say my father could not have killed himself that — that some one else might appear guilty.” ‘So you think your father did not kill himself?” “Oh, I don’t know, I don’t know,” moaned the girl. ‘I can’t believe it, de- spite what he said. It wasn’t like him. He loved life above all things, and he has often said that any one who takes his life is a despicable coward.” “Can you think of any other explana- tion for his dying confession ”’ Undisguised fear looked from the girl’s eyes. Twice she tried to speak, but no an- swer came. Then she only shook her head am ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. with dumb misery—and something else— stamped upon her face. Was it fear, or the spectral hand of some hidden suspicion? ‘You never left this office from the time you entered it at twenty minutes of twelve until now?” “No,” she sobbed miserably. ‘What time was your appointment with Mr. Kent?” ‘“Any time between eleven thirty and twelve.” ‘Why, when you had the correct time with you, did you wait here by your own testimony until twelve o’clock without at- tempting to go to Mr. Kent’s office, where you knew you were due by appointment before twelve? You have already con- fessed that you were so afraid you might be tardy that you left your aunt there, sup- posedly to tell Mr. Kent where you were should he ask for you.” ‘Why, I—I—” stammered the girl, “I —-I just couldn’t give up seeing some one here first. So I just kept waiting, expect- ing every minute that Mr. Strong would be through with the man to whom he was speaking.”’ ‘“ Tf you were so very anxious both not to be late to your appointment with Mr. Kent and to see some member of this firm, why didn’t you make your presence here known?” ‘““T—I didn’t want to. I j-just couldn’t seem to nerve myself to. I just kept hesi- tating and waiting until—until Billings be- gan to pound and call for help. Then it was too late.” ‘*‘ Miss Cavendish, you are positive that you had two hatpins when you put on your hat?” ‘“Of course. But the pin doesn’t mat- for Ignoring this remark, Nancy persisted. ‘Was vour aunt with you when you put on your hat?” ce Yes.”’ ‘“ Did she know that you started out with two hatpins?”’ “*'Y-yes,” replied the girl wearily. ‘‘ She knows, because I was slow in dressing. She was all ready. She held my coat for me. She handed me my two pins, saying that the wind was blowing a gale, and that I AA COMiICcloOoe (©