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Page 9
At that moment came the sounds of carriage wheels and a cab from the
depot drew up to the door. Margaret looked through the slats of a
blind and saw that the arrivals were Raymond Case and a stranger, a man
wearing a rather ordinary suit of clothing and a rough slouch hat.
"Thank Heaven, Raymond has brought somebody!" murmured the girl.
There was a short consultation at the front door and she heard the
young man say: "He has a perfect right here and I demand admittance for
us both." Then another murmur followed and the pair came upstairs.
They knocked on the door of Margaret's room and were admitted, and Mrs.
Morse was told that she might go.
"This gentleman has come to give Miss Langmore some advice," said
Raymond Case. "If we want you we will call."
"But I have orders--"
"Miss Langmore will remain in this room, so you have nothing to fear.
She has a legal right to receive advice."
"Oh, if the gentleman is a lawyer I have nothing to say," was the
retort, and Mrs. Morse swept from the room.
The instant she was gone, the young man closed the door and then rushed
up to Margaret Langmore and kissed her.
"I have succeeded!" he cried. "I told you I would. This is Mr. Adam
Adams. Mr. Adams, this is Miss Margaret Langmore. Now, I guess we are
going to show these country bumpkins a thing or two!" he added
earnestly.
The detective advanced and shook hands. Margaret Langmore was a trifle
disappointed in his appearance and her face clouded for an instant.
Raymond was quick to notice it.
"You mustn't judge a man by his appearance. Mr. Adams makes himself
look that way on purpose. He's the smartest, swiftest--"
"That will do," interrupted the detective with a brief smile.
"Will you help me?" The girl eyed the detective squarely. "I--I need
help so much."
"I must hear your story first."
"Oh, I thought Raymond would tell you everything."
"He has told me all he knows. But I want to hear the story from your
own lips. Something may have slipped him, you know."
"I will tell you everything. Please sit down."
Margaret Langmore began her narrative. It was fully an hour before she
finished. Occasionally the detective asked a question, but for the
most part he sat back with his eyes closed, as if thinking of something
else.
"Now, Miss Langmore," he exclaimed, as he straightened up at the
conclusion of her recital, "whom do you suspect of this crime?"
"I suspect no one, sir."
"Have you any idea why this awful deed was committed?" The detective
had been on the point of saying "murder" but had checked himself.
"Not the least in the world."
"Some of the windows were, of course, open. What of the doors?"
"The front door and that to the side piazza were locked. The back door
was open."
"Then a person might have sneaked in by the back way?"
"I presume so."
"Your father was quite dead when you found him?" asked the detective
quickly.
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