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Page 73
"Go and make sure."
Matlock Styles, for it was he, ran from the room and was gone several
minutes. When he came back he was more disturbed than ever.
"You are right, he is gone!" he gasped. "Can this be the same man?"
He made another examination of Adam Adams. "Yes, you are right. Well,
he shall not get away again!" he added, significantly.
CHAPTER XXIII
THE DISAPPEARANCE OF MARGARET
"Tom, I tell you the best you can do is to make a clean breast of it
and get Uncle Adam to help you."
It was Letty Bernard who spoke and she addressed Tom Ostrello. The two
were seated on a bench in the park, where they had gone to talk matters
over without fear of interruption or of being overheard. The
conversation had lasted over two hours, and in that time the girl had
learned many of the young man's secrets, and in return had told him a
few things which had astonished and disturbed him.
He was much downcast and with good reason. For the past month many
things had gone wrong with him. The one bright spot had been Lefty's
love for him, pure and strong, helping him to carry his burdens.
"That's an easy thing to say, Letty," he answered. "But it is not such
an easy thing to do. Poor Dick is deep enough in the mud as it is, and
it will not be to my credit to mention my connection with Matlock
Styles."
"Yes, but Tom, you--you--Oh, how can I explain? Can't you trust me
when I tell you that I am speaking for your own good? I--I know many
things of which you are ignorant."
"Then why don't you tell me, Letty? Is it fair for you to keep silent?"
"No, but then you must remember that I am Mr. Adams' private clerk, and
he is working on this case in the interests of Miss Langmore."
"I know he is working for her and I hope he clears her. I always
thought she was a pretty nice kind of a girl, and I can't believe that
she is guilty."
"Tom, did you ever imagine they would think you were guilty?" and she
gazed at him earnestly, as If to search his very soul.
He started.
"Me? Why--why should anybody imagine I was guilty? It's--it's out of
all reason." He drew a quick breath. "Letty, do you mean to insinuate
that Mr. Adams imagines--"
"You mustn't ask me questions, Tom. But think over what you have told
me--of that letter your brother Dick wrote asking for money, and how
you visited the house on the very morning of the murder to get the
money, and how Mr. Langmore took the letter from your mother and tore
it in half, and the scene afterwards."
"Yes, I know. But--"
"And then think of the way by which Mr. Langmore and your mother died.
Killed by a curious poison, something that they inhaled, which, when
the doctor got a whiff of it, gave him cramps in the stomach--a curious
drug not generally known to medical science, a drug--"
He caught her by the wrist and looked fearfully, frightfully, into her
face.
"Letty! My God!"
A short silence followed and she saw that he was thinking, deeply,
swiftly. The cold perspiration stood out on his forehead but he did
not appear to notice it. He dropped her wrist and his hand fell as if
made of stone.
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