“But, Bupps, who could it have been?” she asked anxiously.
“I still think it was Zalnitch and the men who were with him, but it might have been Woods. I'm going to find out everything he did last night. It may throw some light on the case. After all, he is the one who had the most to gain by Jim's death, and his words of last night were mighty queer.”
I paid the waiter and we left the café. On the way to Mary's I stopped at the undertaker's and made arrangements for Jim's burial. The man in charge was the saddest looking person I have ever seen. He had a woebegone look about him that was infectious—made you want to weep for him or with him. He discussed the funeral arrangements in a hushed voice and finished by whispering, “I sincerely hope what the papers are hinting is not so.”
“What's that?” I asked.
“The noon edition of The Sun says, 'The finger of suspicion points very strongly to Mrs. Felderson.'”
I hurried out to the car and jumped in.
“Mary, we've got to work fast.”
“Is Helen suspected?” she asked.
“Yes. The Sun is more than hinting.”
The news seemed to bring out the fight in Mary.
“Well, we'll prove her innocent.”
When we reached the Pendletons' we hurried into the house and went at once to the room where Jim and Helen had their argument. The revolver was not there.
CHAPTER EIGHT. IT LOOKS BAD FOR HELEN
I drove Mary to the hospital with my spirits at lowest ebb. If The Sun were going to try to convict Helen of the murder, I realized that we had a hard fight ahead of us, for that yellow sheet was most zealous in hounding down any one who happened to be socially prominent, and in demanding punishment. The blacker the scandal, the deeper they dug, and the more details they gave to their gluttonous, filth-loving public. They would be particularly eager here, for they had no love for Jim, due to the stand he took against them during the war.
I knew the reporters would be hot on my trail and that sooner or later they would interview Mary. So I determined that Mary should spend as much time as possible at the hospital, feeling sure the reporters would not be allowed in the room where Helen lay, battered and unconscious. As for me, I wanted to get to the bridge on the Blandesville Road as quickly as possible and from there to the country-club to inquire what Woods had done the night before. I made up my mind I'd lead the reporters a merry old chase before they ran me to earth, and when they did, I'd tell them nothing. I also wanted to get in touch with Robinson as soon as I could, to find out whether he had discovered anything new of Zalnitch and his confederates—but that could wait until evening.
At the hospital they were at first opposed to having any one in the room with Helen, who still lay in a coma, but with the help of one of the nurses in charge, it was at last arranged.
As I drove over the road to the club, the bleak barrenness of the country struck me anew. Twenty-four hours before Jim had been alive. Twenty-four hours before we had been in our office discussing the proof of Woods' guilt, and Woods had telephoned to Jim, asking him to come to the country-club alone. My suspicions of the man stirred afresh, so that when I came to the bridge and found no one there, I decided to leave my search for the revolver until later and go straight on to the club.
It was still early for the golfers and the bridge players and there were only a few people there. These, of course, came up to me and pressed my hand with genuine sympathy. I realized how many, many friends Jim had and what a loss his death was to them all.
As soon as I could disengage myself I hunted up Jackson, the negro head-waiter and general house-man, who knows everything that happens at the club. He had just finished his dinner and I drew him into the cloak-room so that our talk might be uninterrupted. I took out a five dollar bill and held it up before his expectant eyes.
“Do you see that, Jackson?” I questioned.
“Yas, indeed Ah sees it, suh! Ah may be gittin' old but Ah ain't blind yit. Ah'll giv you whut you wants, instan'ly.”
He started to leave, but I grabbed him.
“That's not what I want, Jackson,” I laughed. Since the prohibition law went into effect, it has been only through some such ritual that “wets” can get theirs at the club. “All I want is to ask you a few questions.”
“Fo' dat money?” His teeth gleamed.
I nodded.
“Mr. Woods was here last night?” I asked, abruptly.
“Yas, suh.”
“What time did he come in?”
“Ah cain't raghtly say, Mist' Thompsin, but he had dinnah out heah 'bout seben-thuty,” he answered.
“Did he leave the club after that?”
“Not 'til de telephone call come whut says Mist' Feldahson ben killt. Den he lef wif Mist' Brown an' Mist' Paisley.”
“You're sure he was here all that time?” I asked.
“No, sah, I ain't suah, but Ah seen him ev'y now an' den thu de ev'nin'.”
“Was he here at quarter past eight?” I questioned.
“He was heah at twenty-fahv minutes past eight, Ah knows, cause Ah done brought him a drink.”
“You're sure of that?”
“Yas, suh! Positive!” the negro answered. “'Cause Ah looked at de clock raght den an' der.”
As near as I could figure, the accident had happened about eight-ten or eight-fifteen and the bridge was six miles away from the club. Woods couldn't have been at the bridge at the time of the tragedy and got back to the club by eighty twenty-five. Still, he might have had an accomplice.
“Thank you, Jackson,” I said, giving him the money. “Just forget that I asked you any questions!”
The darky chuckled. “Ah done fohgot 'em befoh you evah asted 'em, suh. Thank you, suh!”
As I passed into the big, central living-room, Paisley came in.
“What was this I saw in The Sun?” he asked.
“The sort of rot that nasty sheet always prints,” I said.
“Nothing to it of course. I thought not. You don't feel like golfing?”
I shook my head. “Not to-day, old chap. By the way, were you with Frank Woods when the news of Jim's death reached the club?”
“Yes—why?” he asked.
“You won't think it too strange if I ask you how he appeared to take it?” I said, trying to make my remark seem as casual as possible. Seeing the puzzled expression on his face, I added: “I know it is a peculiar thing to ask, but please don't think any more about it than you can help, and just answer.”