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Page 18
"But you had a quarrel or a misunderstanding."
His face flushed slowly. "She was to obtain her final decree
early next week. I wanted her to marry me then at once. She
refused. When I reproached her for not considering my wishes she
pretended to be cool and began an elaborate flirtation with Merle
Shirley." "You say she only pretended to be cool?"
For a few moments Gordon hesitated. Then apparently his vanity
loosened his tongue. He wished it to be understood that he had
held the love of Stella to the last.
"Last night," he volunteered, "we made everything up and she was
as affectionate as she ever had been. This morning she was cool,
but I could tell it was pretense and so I let her alone."
"There has been no real trouble between you?"
The leading man met Kennedy's gaze squarely. "Not a bit!"
Kennedy turned to Mackay. "Mr. Shirley," he ordered.
By a miscalculation on the part of the little district attorney
the heavy man entered the room a moment before Gordon left. They
came face to face just within the portieres. There was no
mistaking the hostility, the open hate, between the two men. Both
Kennedy and I caught the glances.
Then Merle Shirley approached the fireplace, taking the chair
indicated by Kennedy.
"I wasn't in any of the opening scenes," he explained. "I
remained out in the car until I got wind of the excitement. By
that time Stella was dead."
"Do you know anything of a quarrel between Miss Lamar and
Gordon?"
Shirley rose, clenching his fists. For several moments he stood
gazing down at the star with an expression on his face which I
could not analyze. The pause gave me an opportunity to study him,
however, and I noticed that while he had heavier features than
Gordon, and was a larger man in every way, ideally endowed for
heavy parts, there was yet a certain boyish freshness clinging to
him in subtle fashion. He wore his clothes in a loose sort of way
which suggested the West and the open, in contrast to Gordon's
metropolitan sophistication and immaculate tailoring. He was
every inch the man, and a splendid actor--I knew. Yet there was
the touch of youth about him. He seemed incapable of a crime such
as this, unless it was in anger, or as the result of some deep-
running hidden passion.
Now, whether he was angry or in the clutch of a broad disgust, I
could not tell. Perhaps it was both. Very suddenly he wheeled
upon Kennedy. His voice became low and vibrant with feeling. Here
was none of the steeled self-control of Manton, the deceptive
outer mask which Werner used to cover his thoughts, the
nonchalant, cold frankness of Gordon.
"Mr. Kennedy," the actor exclaimed, "I've been a fool, a fool!"
"How do you mean?"
"I mean that I allowed Stella to flatter my vanity and lead me
into a flirtation which meant nothing at all to her. God!"
"You are responsible for the trouble between Miss Lamar and
Gordon, then?"
"Never!" Shirley indicated the body of the star with a quick,
passionate sweep of his hand. Now I could not tell whether he was
acting or in earnest. "She's responsible!" he exclaimed. "She's
responsible for everything!"
"Her death--"
"No!" Shirley sobered suddenly, as if he had forgotten the
mystery altogether. "I don't know anything at all about that, nor
have I any idea unless--" But he checked himself rather than
voice an empty suspicion.
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