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Page 17
He again unlocked the garage door and closed it as we entered.
"Now," said he, "before we go any further what was your idea in
keeping back the fact that one of the missing links in the chain of
evidence was already in your possession?"
"No doubt," I said rather guiltily, "you refer to the fact of my
acquaintance with Miss Isobel Merlin?"
"I do!" said Gatton, "and to the fact that you nipped in ahead of me
and interviewed this important witness before I had even heard of her
existence." He continued to smile, but the thoroughness and
unflinching pursuit of duty which were the outstanding features of
the man, underlay his tone of badinage. "I want to say," he continued,
"that for your cooperation, which has been very useful to me on many
occasions, I am always grateful, but if in return I give you
facilities which no other pressman has, I don't expect you to abuse
them."
"Really, Inspector," I replied, "you go almost too far. I have done
nothing to prejudice your case nor could I possibly have known until
my interview this morning with Miss Merlin, that it was she in whom
the late Sir Marcus was interested."
"H'm," said Gatton, but still rather dubiously, his frank, wide-open
eyes regarding me in that na�ve manner which was so deceptive.
"All that I learned," I continued, "is unequivocally at your disposal.
Finally I may tell you--and I would confess it to few men--that Miss
Merlin is a very old friend and might have been something more if I
had not been a fool."
"Oh!" said Gatton, and his expression underwent a subtle change--"Oh!
That's rather awkward; in fact"--he frowned perplexedly--"it's damned
awkward!"
"What do you mean?" I demanded.
"Well," said he, "I don't know what account Miss Merlin gave to you of
her relations with Sir Marcus--"
"Relations!" I said hotly, "the man was a mere acquaintance; she
hadn't even seen him, except from the stage, for some months past."
"Oh," replied Gatton, "is that so?" He looked at me very queerly. "It
doesn't seem to dovetail with the evidence of the stage-doorkeeper."
I felt myself changing color, and:
"What, then, does the stage-doorkeeper assert?" I asked.
Gatton continued to look at me in that perplexed way, and believing
that I detected the trend of his reflections:
"Look here, Inspector," I said, "let us understand one another.
Whatever may be the evidence of stage-doorkeepers and others, upon one
point you can be assured. Miss Merlin had nothing whatever to do with
this horrible crime. The idea is unthinkable. So confident am I of
this, that you can be perfectly open with me and I give you my word of
honor that I shall be equally frank with you. The truth of the matter
cannot possibly injure her in the end and I am as anxious to discover
it as you are."
Gatton suddenly extended his hand, and:
"Good!" he said. "We understand one another, but how is Miss Merlin
going to explain this?"
He drew a note-book from his pocket, turned over several leaves, and
then:
"On no fewer than six occasions," he said, "I have approximate dates
here, Sir Marcus sent his card to Miss Merlin's dressing-room."
"I know," I interrupted him; "he persecuted her, but she never saw
him."
"Wait a minute. Last night"--Gatton glanced at me sharply--"Marie,
the maid, came down after Sir Marcus's card had been sent to the
dressing-room and talked for several minutes to the late baronet, just
by the doorkeeper's box, but out of earshot. That was at ten o'clock.
At eleven, that is after the performance, Sir Marcus returned, and
again Marie came down to see him. They went out into the street
together and Sir Marcus entered a cab which was waiting and drove off.
Miss Merlin left a quarter of an hour later."
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