Terwiliger turned to Townley. The neighbor corroborated the girl’s story so far as it concerned him. The detective again questioned Marcia.
“You are sure you saw nothing? Here in the house, I mean — or in the driveway?”
“Nothing at all,” declared the girl, in a firm tone.
Terwiliger began to talk with the men who were present. His indication that he had no further questions for Marcia gave the girl sudden courage. She turned to Police Chief Gorson.
“Would it be all right,” she asked, “for me to call Mr. Horatio Farman? He is our lawyer, you know.”
“Certainly,” responded Gorson. “It would be a good idea to have him come here.”
MARCIA left the living room, remarking that the telephone was in the central hallway. She reached a closet near the foot of the stairs. There, out of earshot, she picked up the telephone and gave a number in a low, steady voice.
Her tones became a whisper as she heard the response that she had expected. While she spoke, she kept a furtive eye upon the distant living room.
“This is Marcia… Yes… At home… Something terrible… Humphrey has been killed — and Wellington… I have been questioned, but there was something I didn’t tell… Listen… Coming up the avenue, we passed a taxi that was going in the opposite direction… Yes, on the avenue… Warren Barringer was in it… I was sure he had been here… Yes… Yes… I understand… Say nothing… Yes, I promise.”
The girl paused; then, quickly, she added:
“Someone is coming. I’ll call later.”
Marcia clicked the hook with her thumb just as Chief Gorson appeared from the living room. The man saw the girl at the telephone.
“Haven’t you gotten Farman yet?” he queried.
“I’m still trying the number,” returned Marcia. “Operator — operator, please—”
The response came, and Marcia gave the number, repeating it in an annoyed tone. Chief Gorson stood by, watching.
“This is Marcia,” said the girl. “I–I’ve been trying to get you, Mr. Farman… Yes, I am at home… Humphrey Delthern has been killed. Mr. Farman… Yes, the police are here… No… Wellington was killed also… You will come at once?”
The girl hung up the receiver and nodded to the police chief. She managed to smile as though she had heard good news.
“Mr. Farman is coming right away,” the girl announced. “He can tell you anything that is important.”
“Nothing is important but the name of the murderer,” returned Gorson grimly.
TWENTY minutes later, Horatio Farman arrived. The old attorney came by taxicab, instead of walking in this time of urgency. He found only Gorson, Terwiliger, and Marcia — a silent trio, seated in the living room.
The lawyer’s first concern was for the girl. He asked if she had been questioned; receiving an affirmative reply, he wanted to know if she would be needed further. Gorson looked at Terwiliger. The detective was doubtful.
“What do you want to do about her?” he asked Farman.
“I want to see that she is with friends,” declared the old lawyer. “This is no place for the girl. Where could you go, Marcia?”
Terwiliger offered a suggestion as Marcia hesitated.
“How about the girl friends that brought you home?” he asked. “Could you get in touch with them? I’d like to know if they heard anything after they left here.”
Marcia went to the telephone to call Dorothy Garland. Gorson and Terwiliger suggested that Farman view the scene upstairs. The detective remained, while Gorson went with the lawyer to the study.
Dorothy Garland arrived with Harriet Saylor just as the attorney and the police chief reappeared. Terwiliger asked Marcia’s friends a few questions. He finally told Gorson that it would be all right for Marcia to leave with the others.
Horatio Farman looked toward Marcia as the girl was about to leave.
“There is nothing you wish to say to me, Marcia?” he asked.
“No,” replied the girl. “I–I have told everything that I know. Thank you for coming, Mr. Farman. I–I’m sorry I was so abrupt over the telephone; but it was so important for you to know that—”
“Quite all right, Marcia,” interposed the lawyer. “Try to forget this horrible affair tonight. Don’t worry, my dear. Just try to ease your mind.”
“What about the other relatives?” questioned Sidney Gorson, turning to Farman after Marcia had gone. “Where are they?”
“Jasper Delthern, the brother, lives at the City Club,” explained Farman. “Warren Barringer stays at the Century Hotel.”
“Hm-m-m,” mused Gorson. “Why aren’t they living here, Mr. Farman?”
“Caleb Delthern, the grandfather, lived alone,” stated Farman, “except for Marcia, who has been here ever since she was a child. It is customary for the head of the Delthern family to dwell at Delthern Manor. Winstead, then Humphrey, followed that procedure.”
“Call the hotel and the club, Terwiliger,” ordered Gorson. “How about old Caleb’s estate, Mr. Farman. Who was to get the money?”
“All the grandchildren shared,” stated Farman. “The estate has not been settled; but every apportionment is considerably over a million dollars.”
Terwiliger was listening with one ear while he held the other to the telephone receiver. He heard Farman mention that Caleb Delthern had been very wealthy. But neither the detective nor the police chief noted a reserve in the attorney’s manner.
Horatio Farman, as legal representative for all of the Delthern heirs, was anxious to avoid too close a questioning. The mention of large sums for all the heirs spiked further queries on the part of Gorson, and enabled Farman to avoid a clash between police demands and the ethical right of an attorney to keep the affairs of his clients strictly to himself.
Gorson, leaning toward Terwiliger’s theory of attempted burglary, held very little suspicion regarding Jasper Delthern and Warren Barringer. His vague thoughts in that direction were ended when Terwiliger completed his efforts at the telephone.
“Just talked with Clark Brosset,” announced the detective, approaching the two men, who were now at the entrance to the living room. “He’s the president of the City Club. Jasper Delthern was on a bender down there tonight. They had to carry him up to his room. Warren Barringer is at the club, too. Been with Brosset all evening; playing cards there now.”
Police Chief Gorson turned to Horatio Farman. This information from a reliable source eliminated all consideration of either Jasper or Warren as persons who might have known of the crimes.
“Suppose,” said Gorson, “that you go down there and break the news to them.”
“Gladly,” agreed Farman. “You will remain here?”
“Yes. Terwiliger and I will search for clews.”
When the lawyer had gone, the police chief and the detective returned to the study. Gorson watched Terwiliger rummage about the room. The police chief was well satisfied with the detective’s efforts.
Burglary that had resulted in murder. That was Terwiliger’s idea, and Gorson liked it. The police had accepted it as the proper theory.
CHAPTER XVII
THE SHADOW’S PRESENCE
SEVERAL nights had passed since the deaths of Humphrey Delthern and Wellington. Jasper Delthern was seated at the big desk in the upstairs study of Delthern Manor. His heavy bulk made a better impression in the huge chair which his older brothers had occupied before him.
An evil smile flitted over Jasper’s face. The new head of the Delthern family, the heir to one half of the thirteen millions, Jasper Delthern was well satisfied with the turn of affairs.
No one had advanced the theory that Winstead Delthern had been murdered; nor had the police changed their opinion regarding the deaths of Humphrey and Wellington. Detective Terwiliger was still trying to obtain some trace of a mythical burglar.