Part 5

The prosecutor did not finish, for standing in the doorway was Miriam Challoner, pale as a ghost, a look of interrogation in her eyes. Shirley ran quickly to her.

"Miriam, dear, I didn't send for you!" she cried, placing an arm around her. "It was Mr. Murgatroyd...."

Mrs. Challoner bowed and smiled faintly.

"I believe I have met Mr. Murgatroyd before," she said with a grace peculiarly her own.

Murgatroyd returned her greeting with:--

"I need not assure you, Mrs. Challoner, that this is a very painful duty."

Mrs. Challoner moistened her lips and held herself together with great effort.

"Please don't apologise," she said gently, "I understand. It may be easier for me to have some one whom I've met."

Murgatroyd bowed; and placing a chair for Mrs. Challoner, begged her to be seated.

"If you don't mind, Miriam," spoke up Shirley, "I'll leave you now, but if you need me--call me."

Miriam clutched the girl by the shoulder, and cried excitedly:--

"No, Shirley, stay where you are--I want you here with me!"

Murgatroyd placed a chair for the girl beside that of Mrs. Challoner; he took a seat opposite.

"Mrs. Challoner," he began in a voice that was even more gentle than at any time before, "believe me that I've no desire to give you trouble unnecessarily."

"Please don't apologise," Mrs. Challoner repeated holding fast to Shirley, as though she pinned her faith to that young woman.

"I shall begin at the beginning, Mrs. Challoner," he said. "I suppose, of course, that you have had the report that your husband has been found in Chicago?"

"What! Found?" To the great surprise of the prosecutor no emotions other than joy and relief were visible on the woman's face.

"Laurie has been found!" she went on. "Thank heaven! I'm so glad--now he must come back home."

"I had thought," said the prosecutor, in even, business-like tones, "that the news of his arrest would--would have been an unpleasant shock to you ... I find that the shock is yet to come."

Quick as a flash Miriam Challoner read the truth in the man's face.

"You don't mean--you can't mean that----"

Murgatroyd bowed.

"I have already told Miss Bloodgood that the report was a mistake. Your husband was not arrested in Chicago."

At that Mrs. Challoner really broke down. She sobbed silently on the shoulder of the girl beside her. "Oh, Laurie, Laurie, then you're not coming home!" she cried. "Most three weeks, Shirley, he's been away!"

Murgatroyd waited patiently until she had recovered, never once forgetting that he was the servant of the people. His was a double duty. He must apprehend the guilty, and so do it as to save the community great expense. Of late murders had been expensive luxuries. Murgatroyd knew that in this case he would be hampered by lack of funds.

"Mrs. Challoner," he said with simple directness, "the whole substance of the matter is this: I believe--we believe that Mr. Challoner has not left the East, and that he may still be here in town--in this house even." He had reseated himself, but suddenly rose again.

"In this house!" Miriam returned with a faint smile. "I wish he were, indeed I do wish he were----"

"Mrs. Challoner," the prosecutor went on, ignoring her words, "it is necessary that my men, now while I am here, while you are here, should search these premises--this house----"

Shirley Bloodgood shook herself from the grasp of Miriam; she stood erect, her slender form tense.

"This is an imposition; it is preposterous, Mr. Murgatroyd, that you should doubt her word!"

Murgatroyd was unmoved.

"It is necessary for my men to search this house," he repeated; and not unwisely, for he well knew that there is something that brings men--good, bad and indifferent men--back to their homes.

But Shirley was adamant.

"No, I won't allow it!" she exclaimed indignantly.

Mrs. Challoner placed a restraining hand on the girl, for Miriam Challoner once more held a strong grip upon herself.

"Search the house if you wish, Mr. Murgatroyd," she consented; "if you find my husband, no one will be more pleased than I."

Murgatroyd left the room and returned almost instantly followed by two men--Mixley and McGrath. It was one of these men a short while before who had stolen in through the French window and tampered with the letters on the desk.

"You will search here first," he ordered; and turning to the women: "Would you prefer to go or stay?"

"We'll go, of course," Shirley flung at him as she drew Miriam toward the door.

"Of course not, we shall stay," said Miriam, freeing herself from the girl.

The men passed in unceremoniously and proceeded to search the room--places that even Miriam had forgotten about; they overlooked nothing, but silently, quietly in their business-like way turned everything topsy-turvy, replacing things, in the end, as they found them. Presently they turned to their chief, and said:--

"It's all right, Prosecutor."

"Cover the rest of the house," again ordered Murgatroyd.

They grinned sheepishly.

"That's all done," they answered.

"What?"

McGrath nodded.

"Yes, while you were talking in here," he said, "we showed our shields and they showed us through." He drew near and whispered: "We thought it best to take 'em by surprise; they hadn't no time to fix things, don't you see?"

"Nothing found?" asked Murgatroyd.

Simultaneously they shook their heads, and answered:--

"Nothing."

Murgatroyd waved his hand and commanded them to wait for him at the door, ending with:--

"I won't be a minute." And turning to Mrs. Challoner, he said a trifle apologetically: "My men tell me that your husband is not in the house. One thing more, however; if you know where Mr. Challoner is--"

"She doesn't!" snapped Shirley.

"If you know where he is," Murgatroyd repeated, ignoring the interruption, "if you have any means of communicating with him----"

"She hasn't!" once more interposed the girl sharply.

"I want you to use your influence with him to make him come back. His flight amounts to a moral confession of crime. He has nothing to gain, you see," he went on to explain, "by staying away. He is bound to be caught; he cannot escape!"

"I want him to come back," stammered Mrs. Challoner. "Yes, yes, he must come back and face this charge. You--you don't think him guilty, Mr. Murgatroyd?"

Murgatroyd walked toward the door. If he had spoken his mind he would have answered in the affirmative; but instead, he compromised with:--

"I don't know;" and abruptly left the house.

VI

"Brutes every one of them--and Billy Murgatroyd the worst of all!" The exclamation fell from Shirley Bloodgood's lips.

Miriam Challoner had been resting her head forlornly on her arms as she sat at a table, but on hearing the young woman's bitter remark she raised her head and smiled a wan smile.

"Mr. Murgatroyd?" The tone was one of surprise. "Why, I thought you liked him, Shirley?"

The girl hunched her shoulders expressively.

"You have things badly twisted, Miriam--_he_ likes _me_." And suddenly rising to her feet, she clapped her hands impulsively. "Oh, Miriam, I almost forgot--I've good news--good news for you!" Then she ran swiftly toward Mrs. Challoner and swiftly back again to the window. "No, they're out of sight--almost...."

"Good news? What good news?" Miriam asked incredulously.

Shirley placed a hand upon her lips.

"Prosecutor Murgatroyd," she began, "told me in confidence----"

"In confidence!" Miriam repeated; "then you had better not----"

Shirley shook her head belligerently.

"Oh, no!" she laughed. "It's all right! Billy Murgatroyd likes to tell things to me. He told me once that he believed that to be one of the controlling motives that led to matrimony.... That a man should have somebody to tell things to."

Mrs. Challoner's curiosity got the better of her.

"And he told you--" she inquired eagerly.

"He told me the facts--gave away his evidence to me." Shirley tossed her head.

"But--" again protested Miriam.

Once more Shirley silenced her.

"No--I shall tell you--this may be a matter of life and death; besides, you are entitled to know the truth."

"Yes, yes," assented Miriam, "tell me--I must know--but first, wait a moment." She pushed a button and Stevens entered.

"Stevens," she said in a low, strained voice, "don't let any one in the house. Do you understand? I simply cannot stand it--to see another person."

When Stevens had left the room the girl resumed:--

"Murgatroyd told me, Miriam, the greatest cock-and-bull story you ever heard." Miriam looked as if her brain would snap. "It seems that the papers have distorted, exaggerated everything. The fact is, Miriam, dear, the case is the flimsiest...."

Miriam drew a deep breath.

"How? Explain yourself!"

Then Shirley went on to tell that nobody had seen Hargraves killed, nobody had seen the shot fired; that they had only got some disreputable gambler or other who claimed to have witnessed a quarrel between them.

"And, oh, yes," she added a moment later, "the man that killed Hargraves robbed him of ten thousand dollars--and of course Lawrence Challoner wouldn't rob a man, much less kill one--so don't you see, there's nothing in the story at all."

"I don't know," answered Miriam slowly, "whether he would or not."

"What!" gasped the girl.

"Don't misunderstand me," pleaded the woman. "There are two Lawrence Challoners--one is the man I love--that loves me; the other is the Lawrence Challoner who--well--I don't care," she added fiercely, "what he's done, I want him back." She sobbed for an instant. "You didn't know, Shirley, that we had a quarrel--I treated him badly, shamefully; he hasn't come back since."

"You quarrelled--you, Miriam!" The girl opened her eyes wide. "What about?"

"Money," admitted the conscience-stricken woman--"money. He wanted me to give him some--a perfectly natural request, wasn't it?--Men have got to have money," she went on, repeating his words, "and I wouldn't give him any. It was brutal in me--I can never forgive myself!"

A look of astonishment crossed Shirley's face.

"You wouldn't give him any money? And he didn't have any when he went away?"

Miriam wept. After a moment she answered:--

"No. My poor Laurie--think of him starving, freezing, perhaps dying!"

Shirley Bloodgood drew a long breath.

"And Colonel Hargraves was robbed," she murmured to herself.

"I don't think you understand," Miriam went on, breaking in upon her thoughts. "Of course I don't believe that Laurie is guilty of the things they charge him with; but he must come back and stand trial and be acquitted--and I must stand by his side through it all." She broke down completely.

"On the evidence they have," Shirley returned, trying to comfort her, "they'll----"

"What's that?" inquired Mrs. Challoner, starting up nervously, in alarm. "It's that horrible bell ringing again," she went on breathlessly. "Don't you hear voices below? Listen--I thought I heard...."

Shirley stole to the door and listened. Presently she called back:--

"Don't worry--whoever it is, Stevens is sending them away!"

"I hope so," sighed Miriam, "for I can't see any one--I won't see any one, unless--Oh, Laurie, Laurie," she cried out, "why don't you come home!"

Suddenly Shirley fell back from the door; it was being stealthily pushed open.

"Oh," she gasped, "it's only Stevens! How you frightened me!"

Stevens stood in the door at attention, looking neither to the right nor to the left, but straight over the heads of the women. He drew a long intake of breath, then he spoke the name:--

"_Mr. Challoner._"

And hardly were the words out of his mouth than he was thrust aside, and there stood in his place a spare, gaunt, tottering figure--a man dishevelled, soiled, exhausted--James Lawrence Challoner had come home!

At the sound of the name the young wife's face turned pale, and for a moment words failed her. Then all of a sudden she sprang to her feet and rushed to him, crying in an ecstasy of joy:--

"Laurie, Laurie, you've come home to me at last!" And throwing her arms around his neck, she kissed him many times, laughing hysterically and crying the while: "You've come back to me!" And once more the freshness of youth, joy and hope were in her voice.

But Challoner, still standing just within the entrance of the room, did not heed her; he cast her off with a frantic sweep of the arm.

"Keep away--keep away from me!" he cried. "I'm tired, dog-tired--I've got to sleep, sleep."

Painful as was the scene, Shirley was keenly alive to what his presence there might mean.

"Stevens," she called, pointing to a window, "pull that curtain down. I pulled it up after _they_ went; pull it down."

Challoner now turned upon her.

"Leave the curtain alone, I tell you," he said, "I don't care if it is up. I don't care about you either--nor you," looking at his wife. "I don't know you. I must have sleep--sleep--sleep."

Deep down in her soul Shirley knew that she should not hear all this, and she would have fled if she had not promised Miriam not to leave her. Suddenly she wheeled upon Stevens as if she and not Miriam were the mistress of the house, exclaiming peremptorily:--

"Stevens, leave the room!"

Stevens obeyed her as he would his mistress, and left the room post haste.

Miriam now went over to the girl.

"You're not going to leave me!" she exclaimed, clinging to her. "You and Laurie are the only friends I have--you must stay here with Laurie and me."

Shirley saw the agony in her face and patted her affectionately as she promised:--

"There, there, Miriam, dear, of course I shall stay." And Miriam, at once reassured, darted back to her husband, and cried:--

"Laurie, dear," kissing him and pushing the hair back from his forehead, "so tired--so tired."

But Challoner, a wolf now and not a man, jerked away from her, and answered:--

"I came home, didn't I? Well, then, I must have sleep, sleep, I tell you, sleep." And tottering over to a dainty silken covered sofa, he threw himself upon it with a deep sigh, saying as though to himself: "Sleep--I must have sleep."

Spellbound, Miriam watched him for a moment, then following him to the sofa, she went down on her knees and drew him to her in a close embrace.

"Everything's all right now that you've come back," she told him in soothing tones. "And, dear, you'll forgive me for quarrelling with you--I'm so sorry, yes, I am, Laurie," kissing him on the lips, the face, the forehead. "Say you'll forgive me, Laurie, dear?"

His answer was a snore. Challoner lay supinely where he had thrown himself, sleeping as does the beast that has crept back to his lair after days of hunting by the man pack.

"Miriam," the whispered name came from Shirley, "you and I, dear, must now think of things. We must not forget that Murgatroyd and his men have only just left. We must not let him lie here; it was lucky they searched the house when they did...."

Miriam waved the other back.

"No," she objected strenuously, "he must sleep; we must let him alone."

"No, no, Miriam," persisted Shirley, putting great emphasis on the words, "we ought to tell him what kind of evidence is against him. He ought to know that. If we didn't warn him in time, he'd never forgive us--he'd never forgive you. He's a man...."

"Perhaps you're right, Shirley--you seem to be always right. Yes, I suppose he ought to know." Gently Miriam shook him, rocked him to and fro upon the sofa, as some fond mother might wake a drowsy, growing boy on a lazy summer morn.

"Lawrence," she cried softly in his ear, "wake up! Wake up, dear, wake up!"

For an instant Challoner stirred. Presently there came in guttural tones:--

"Yes, yes, that's all right...." But he slept, and kept on sleeping.

"I can hardly realise that Laurie is back," murmured Miriam, happily. Unconscious of the other's words, she remained kneeling at the side of the dainty sofa with its far from dainty burden, her arm still about the neck of the man who slept upon it.

"Yes, yes," returned the girl, "but don't you think we had better warn him? He must not be found----"

The other laughed joyously, trying lovingly to smooth out his tangled hair. After a moment she answered absently:--

"They'll find him now, I suppose; but I don't care--I've got him back." She turned and kissed him once again. "My Laurie," she murmured in his ear. Somehow she thought he heard and was glad to hear.

The girl stooped down and caught her by the shoulder.

"But, Miriam," she expostulated, "we must take no chances--we ought to wake him."

Miriam looked up at the girl helplessly.

"You must not stop, Miriam," insisted Shirley, "we must wake him----"

At that instant as they stood clustered about the sleeping thing, the bell once more broke out in feeble clamour. They clung to each other in abject fear.

"The bell!" chorused the women, and stood frozen, silent. They heard Stevens toiling up the stairs; waited; watched the door; finally they saw him enter. Neither of the women spoke, but gazed at him questioningly.

Stevens met their gaze with frightened eyes. At last he found his voice.

"It's the prosecutor's men again, Madam. They've come to----"

"Stevens," interrupted Shirley, "surely you didn't tell them that----"

"Not one word, Miss Bloodgood. But they said they saw him----"

Shirley groaned and pointed to the sofa; Mrs. Challoner rose to her feet and stood before it as if to hide the man upon it.

"You left them outside, Stevens?" Miriam was calm and apparently in full control of herself now.

"One of them--the other forced his way in and sent after the prosecutor."

There was a tap at the door, and the maid, quivering with fear, excitement and indignation, entered, bursting forth with:--

"There's a man coming upstairs, Madam--but I stopped him. He said he'd wait out there on the landing to see you--said he knew Mr. Challoner was in the house and he was going to arrest him."

Challoner continued to sleep noisily.

"Oh, dear, there's nothing to be done, I suppose, but to let the man in." Mrs. Challoner was speaking to Shirley now; and then without waiting for a reply she ordered Foster to show the man up, adding: "I hope he'll wait until Laurie wakes."

Instantly Miriam crossed to the sofa and once more rested her soft, warm face on his, hoping that he could feel the love that she bore for him, then she shook him somewhat roughly.

"Laurie, dear, you must wake up." And then like a flash the thought of resistance crossed her mind. She sprang up with a cry, rushed past Shirley, past Stevens, reached the door, closed it, fumbled for an instant, and finding the key locked it tight.

"No, no," she muttered, "they shan't take him--I won't let them--he belongs to me!"

In a frenzy she piled up the light chairs and tables, and pushed them against the door to form a barricade, crying the while to Stevens: "Help me, quick! We've got to keep them out! We must not let them in, must not...."

Shirley went over to her and caught her in her arms, whispering while she affectionately rested her head on Miriam's shoulder:--

"Don't, dear, don't! We can't help it, don't you see? There's no other way out of it but to let the men come in."

"Of course we can't help it," after a moment Miriam said resignedly, and proceeded to pull the chairs and tables away that she had so vigorously piled up. "Yes, yes, let them in," and wearily fell into a chair.

Stevens unlocked the door, and Mixley entered the room, McGrath following soon after.

"There's no help for it, ma'am," they spoke as one man.

At the sight of them Miriam rushed back to her husband and shook him slightly, speaking his name softly. Then she turned plaintively to the men:--

"If you would only let him sleep--just a little while longer," she said falteringly.

"You must leave him to us, ma'am," spoke up Mixley; and pointing to the far corner of the room, added: "Will you take that chair, there, please? Don't be afraid, ladies," he went on, glancing at Shirley; "we won't hurt the gentleman, see if we do."

And suddenly, together, the men bodily lifted Challoner from the sofa and as suddenly dropped him back again.

At this use of physical force Miriam covered her face with her hands and cried:--

"Don't do that--please don't...."

They desisted, but for quite another reason.

"There's a hump here that we'd best attend to," said Mixley to the other detective, meaningly, running his hand over the outline of Challoner's clothing. "He may not be so sound asleep as he seems to be."

At this juncture Shirley motioned to Stevens to leave the room; the next instant revealed a revolver which they took from Challoner's hip-pocket.

"Is the thing loaded?" queried McGrath. Together they examined it; then simultaneously they glanced in the direction of the women.

"Ma'am--ladies," said Mixley, crossing the room, "we're fair people, and Prosecutor Murgatroyd is fair. You seen us take this here firearm from Mr. Challoner just now, didn't you?"

Miriam and Shirley nodded in acknowledgment. Challoner dropped back into his former position and continued to snore.

Mixley came closer to them and requested that they take a good look at it.

"Don't give it to me," cried Shirley, eluding the outstretched hand and its contents.

"Give it to me," said Miriam, unhesitatingly.

McGrath crowded up.

"You see that there's five chambers loaded, don't you, Mrs. Challoner?"

Mrs. Challoner turned the revolver upside down and looked at it helplessly.

"Five chambers loaded?" she asked innocently, unsuspectingly.

"Here," broke in Mixley, "let me show you." And he counted slowly: "One, two, three, four, five--all full, see?"

"Yes, five chambers," Mrs. Challoner agreed.

There was a pause in which Mixley looked meaningly at McGrath; then he said:--

"And one chamber empty?"

"Oh, yes," she acknowledged almost eagerly, as he placed his finger on it, "there's surely one chamber empty--I see it now."

McGrath hesitated, but Mixley went on:--

"Will you smell it please--just the end of it--the muzzle. What do you smell?"

Mrs. Challoner smiled faintly.

"A Fourth of July smell," she ventured; "gunpowder, of course."

"Burnt powder, exactly, ma'am," they said, and smiled, too. But McGrath had still another card to play.

"Look at this here figure on this here gun, will you, ma'am? Here--there it is. I want you to tell me what it is."

"What is it, Shirley?" asked Miriam, bringing it closer to the light.

Shirley shook her head.

"I'd rather not."

"Please," asked Mrs. Challoner.

Shirley peered at it. Finally she declared:--

"It's '.38,'" touching the gun lightly; "the figures are '.38.'"

Mixley fell back admiringly.

"There now--no one can say we ain't been fair. You saw us take it from him; you examined it; and you told us what you saw. That's fair. You're fair and we're fair--see?"

"Yes. But what of it?" asked Shirley and Miriam in one breath.

McGrath opened his eyes in mock wonder.

"Why bless me, didn't you know? This here Colonel Hargraves was shot by a bullet that came out of a thirty-eight calibre revolver. That's all. We wanted to be fair."

Shirley rubbed vigorously the hand with which she had touched the gun.

"Fair!" she cried bitterly. "And Mr. Murgatroyd sanctions such methods--will use us for evidence--make a case by us?"

But even then Miriam did not understand. She was watching Mixley, who had returned to Challoner; watching Mixley and McGrath, who were lifting Challoner up and dropping him--watching them draw him up to a standing posture and then throw him back again on the sofa, calling the while:--

"Wake up! Wake up!"

"I've got to sleep," was all they could get out of Challoner.

At last, however, a lift and a drop a trifle more vigorous than the preceding ones caused Challoner to open his eyes and look about him. Then he closed them again.

"Are you James Lawrence Challoner?" asked Mixley loudly, peremptorily.

"I am," Challoner answered; "now leave me alone."