“I guess,” Mason said thoughtfully, “Fremont C. Sabin was really a wonderful character.”
“Apparently he was, Chief. Of course, he played an awful trick on her, but...”
“I’m not so certain he did,” Mason said. “We can look at the thing from Sabin’s viewpoint, and see just what he was trying to do. When you get the whole picture in its proper perspective, and in the light of some new evidence we’ve uncovered, it’s quite consistent with his character.”
“Can you tell me about this new evidence, Chief?”
“No, you tell me about Helen Monteith first.”
“Well, this man started coming to the library. She knew him only as Wallman, a man who was out of work, a man who had no particular trade, and no particular cause to feel friendly toward the world; yet he did. He was interested in books on philosophy and social reform, and he was particularly interested in his fellowmen. He’d sit in the library, sometimes at night, apparently reading a book, but in reality studying the men who were seated around him. And then, whenever he had an opportunity, he’d get acquainted, in an unostentatious manner, and listen. He was always listening.
“Naturally, Helen Monteith, as a librarian, watched him and became interested in him. He started talking to her. Apparently, he had quite a knack of drawing people out, and he got her to tell him a great deal about herself before she realized how much she actually was telling him. And then she fell in love. Because the man was older than she, and because she hadn’t been anticipating anything of the sort, romance sneaked up on her and caught her unaware. She was madly in love with him before she even realized she was in love. And then when she found out that he loved her... Well, Chief, as she told me about it, she said it felt as though her soul was singing all the time.”
“She must have something of a gift for expression,” Mason said, his eyes narrowing slightly.
“No, Chief, it wasn’t an act she was putting on. She was absolutely sincere. She loves to talk about it, because it was such a beautiful thing with her. Despite the shock of the tragedy, and all the disillusionment which has come with finding out he was married, she’s still happy and philosophical about it all. She feels that she finally found happiness in her life. The happiness didn’t last, but she doesn’t seem to feel bitter about that, but, instead, is grateful for the measure of happiness she did have. Of course, when she read the morning paper about the murder, about how Sabin would go around using an assumed name, studying people, browsing in libraries... Well, of course, that made her suspicious. Then she saw the photograph of this mountain cabin and recognized it. But she fought against her fears, trying to convince herself against her better judgment... And then the afternoon paper carried the picture of Sabin, and her worst fears were confirmed.”
“Then you don’t think she killed him?” Mason asked.
“Absolutely not,” she said. “She couldn’t... Well...”
“Why the doubt?” Mason asked, as her voice trailed off into silence.
“Well,” Della said, “there is this side to her character. If she had thought that he had been going to do something to hurt her... If she had thought that his ideals were going to... well, not exactly his ideals, either, Chief, but if she had thought that there was something about him which was counterfeit, I think she’d have killed him, in order to keep from discovering it, if you know what I mean.”
“I think I do,” Mason told her. “Go on, what happened?”
“Well, I took her to a little hotel. I went to some precautions to make certain we couldn’t be traced by the police. I gathered that was what you wanted. I got some baggage out of my apartment, and we registered as two sisters from Topeka, Kansas. I asked the clerk a lot of questions that tourists would ordinarily ask, and I think I completely sold him on the idea.
“We had a corner room, in the back, with twin beds and a bath, and quietly, in such a manner that she wouldn’t notice what I was doing, I locked the door from the inside and put the key in my purse.
“Well, we sat down and talked, and she told me all about her romance, and about everything which had happened. I guess we talked for three or four hours. I know it was long after midnight when we went to bed; and I guess it was about five o’clock this morning when she woke me up, shaking me and telling me she couldn’t get the door open. She was fully dressed, and seemed very much upset.
“I asked her why she wanted to get the door open, and she said she had to go back to San Molinas, that she simply had to. There was something she’d forgotten.
“I told her she couldn’t go back. She said she must, and we had quite an argument. Finally, she said she was going to telephone the hotel and have someone come up to open the door. Then I got hard with her.”
“What did you tell her?” Mason asked.
“I told her that you were sacrificing a great deal to help her, and that she was giving you a double-cross; that she was in danger, and that the police would catch her and charge her with murder; that her romance would be written up by every sob sister in the tabloid newspaper game; that she’d be dragged through courts, and the pitiless white light of searching and unfavorable publicity would beat upon her... I told her everything I could think of. I talked like a lawyer working on a jury.”
“What happened?”
“She still wanted to go,” Della Street said; “so then I told her that the minute she walked out of that door, you were finished with her, you wouldn’t protect her in any way; that she was going to have to obey your orders, and stay there, until I could get in touch with you. She wanted to know when I could get in touch with you, and I told her I didn’t know, not until after you got to the office at around nine-thirty; that I could get Paul Drake to give you a message. She wanted me to call your apartment directly, and I told her absolutely nothing doing, because I was afraid the police would be plugged in on your line, and because I thought you didn’t want to know where she was, or have anything to do with her disappearance.
“Well, she thought that over for a while and decided it was reasonable. She said that was all right, she’d wait until nine-thirty, but made me promise, solemnly, that I’d try and get in touch with you then. She undressed and went back to bed, and said she was sorry she’d made such a scene. It took me about half an hour to get composed enough to drop off to sleep again... And I woke up, and she was gone... She’d deliberately planned that business about giving in just so she could double-cross me.”
“She’d taken the key out of your purse?” Mason asked.
“Of course not,” Della Street said. “I had that purse tucked under my pillow slip. She couldn’t have possibly got that key without waking me up. She went down the fire escape. The window was open.”
“You don’t know what time she went?” Mason asked.
“No.”
“What time did you wake up?”
“Not until after eight o’clock,” she said. “I was pretty tired, and I figured we wouldn’t have anything to do except be waiting, so I sort of set my mental alarm clock for around eight o’clock. I woke up and lay there for a while, thinking she was over on the other bed, and being grateful that she’d calmed down. I slipped out quietly from between the covers, so as not to awaken her, and started to tiptoe to the bathroom, and then looked over my shoulder, and saw that her bed looked rather strange. I went over for another look. She’d pulled the old stunt of wadding up some blankets and a pillow, and putting them under the covers, to make it look as though someone was asleep in the bed... Well, Chief, that’s all there is to it.”
Mason held her close to him. “Don’t worry, Della,” he said. “You certainly did all anyone could have done... Where did she go, do you know?”