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Page 18
Wallie's coming gave him an excuse to call up McDowell. He confessed to
a disquieting desire to hear the inspector's voice again. In the back
of his head was the fear of Shan Tung, and the hope that McDowell might
throw some light on Miriam Kirkstone's unusual request to see her that
night. The storm had settled down into a steady drizzle when he got in
touch with him, and he was relieved to find there was no change in the
friendliness of the voice that came over the telephone. If Shan Tung
had a suspicion, he had kept it to himself.
To Keith's surprise it was McDowell who spoke first of Miss Kirkstone.
"She seemed unusually anxious to get in touch with you," he said. "I am
frankly disturbed over a certain matter, Conniston, and I should like
to talk with you before you go up tonight."
Keith sniffed the air. "Wallie is going to ring the dinner bell within
half an hour. Why not slip on a raincoat and join me up here? I think
it's going to be pretty good."
"I'll come," said McDowell. "Expect me any moment."
Fifteen minutes later Keith was helping him off with his wet slicker.
He had expected McDowell to make some observation on the cheerfulness
of the birch fire and the agreeable aromas that were leaking from
Wallie's kitchen, but the inspector disappointed him. He stood for a
few moments with his back to the fire, thumbing down the tobacco in his
pipe, and he made no effort to conceal the fact that there was
something in his mind more important than dinner and the cheer of a
grate.
His eyes fell on the telephone, and he nodded toward it. "Seemed very
anxious to see you, didn't she, Conniston? I mean Miss Kirkstone."
"Rather."
McDowell seated himself and lighted a match. "Seemed--a
little--nervous--perhaps," he suggested between puffs. "As though
something had happened--or was going to happen. Don't mind my
questioning you, do you, Derry?"
"Not a bit," said Keith. "You see, I thought perhaps you might
explain--"
There was a disquieting gleam in McDowell's eyes. "It was odd that she
should call you up so soon--and in the storm--wasn't it? She expected
to find you at my office. I could fairly hear the lightning hissing
along the wires. She must have been under some unusual impulse."
"Perhaps."
McDowell was silent for a space, looking steadily at Keith, as if
measuring him up to something.
"I don't mind telling you that I am very deeply interested in Miss
Kirkstone," he said. "You didn't see her when the Judge was killed. She
was away at school, and you were on John Keith's trail when she
returned. I have never been much of a woman's man, Conniston, but I
tell you frankly that up until six or eight months ago Miriam was one
of the most beautiful girls I have ever seen. I would give a good deal
to know the exact hour and date when the change in her began. I might
be able to trace some event to that date. It was six months ago that
she began to take an interest in the fate of John Keith. Since then the
change in her has alarmed me, Conniston. I don't understand. She has
betrayed nothing. But I have seen her dying by inches under my eyes.
She is only a pale and drooping flower compared with what she was. I am
positive it is not a sickness--unless it is mental. I have a suspicion.
It is almost too terrible to put into words. You will be going up there
tonight--you will be alone with her, will talk with her, may learn a
great deal if you understand what it is that is eating like a canker in
my mind. Will you help me to discover her secret?" He leaned toward
Keith. He was no longer the man of iron. There was something intensely
human in his face.
"There is no other man on earth I would confide this matter to," he
went on slowly. "It will take--a gentleman--to handle it, someone who
is big enough to forget if my suspicion is untrue, and who will
understand fully what sacrilege means should it prove true. It is
extremely delicate. I hesitate. And yet--I am waiting, Conniston. Is it
necessary to ask you to pledge secrecy in the matter?"
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