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Page 20
While Maitland was thus engaged I did all in my power to distract
Gwen's attention, as much as possible, from her father's body.
Whenever she regarded it, the same intense and set expression
overspread her countenance as that which at first had alarmed me.
I was glad when Maitland returned from the window and began mixing
some of the chemicals I had brought him, for Gwen invariably
followed all his movements, as if her very existence depended upon
her letting nothing escape her. Maitland, who had asked me for a
prescription blank, now dipped it in the chemicals he had mixed
and, this accomplished, put the paper in his microscope box to dry.
"I have something here," he said, "which I desire to photograph
quite as much as this room and some of its larger objects," and he
pinned a tiny, crumpled mass against the wall, and made an exposure
of it in that condition. "Do you know what this is?" he said, as
he carefully smoothed it out for another picture. "I haven't the
slightest idea," I said. "It is plain enough under the microscope,"
he continued, placing it upon the slide, and adjusting the focus.
"Would you like to examine it, Miss Darrow?" Gwen had scarcely put
her eye to the instrument before she exclaimed: "Why, it's a piece
of thin outside bark from a twig of alder." Maitland's face was a
study... "Would you mind telling me," he said deliberately, "how
you found that out so quickly?" She hesitated a moment, and then
said methodically, pointing toward the water, "I know the alder well
--our boat is moored near a clump of them." "You are a keen
observer," he replied, as he took the prepared paper from his box
and spread the film of bark upon it to take a blue print of it.
"There is one other object upon the sill which, unfortunately, I
cannot take away with me," he continued, "but shall have to content
myself with photographing. I refer to a sinuous line made in the
paint, while green, and looking as if a short piece of rope, or,
more properly, rubber tubing, since there is no rope-like texture
visible, had been dropped upon it, and hastily removed--but see,
here are Osborne and Allen looking for all the world as if they
were prepared to demonstrate a fourth dimension of space. Now we
shall see the suicide theory proved--to their own satisfaction, at
least. But, whatever they say, don't forget we are to keep our own
work to ourselves."
The two officers were alone. M. Godin had apparently decided to work
by himself. This did not in the least surprise me, since I could
easily see that he had nothing to gain by working with these two
officers.
"We've solved the matter," was the first thing Osborne said after
passing the time of day. "Indeed?" replied Maitland in a tone which
was decidedly ambiguous; "you make it suicide, I suppose?" "That's
just what we make it," returned the other. "We hadn't much doubt of
it last night, but there were some things, such as the motive, for
example, not quite clear to us; but it is all as plain as daylight
now."
"And what says M. Godin?" asked Maitland.
Mr. Osborne burst into a loud guffaw.
"Oho, but that's good! What says M. Godin? I say, Allen, Maitland
wants to know what 'Frenchy' says," and the pair laughed boisterously.
"It's plain enough you don't know," he continued, addressing
Maitland. "He's tighter 'n any champagne bottle you ever saw. The
corkscrew ain't invented that'll draw a word out of M. Godin. You
saw him making notes here last night. Well, the chances are that if
this were a murder case, which it isn't, you'd see no more of M.
Godin till he bobbed up some day, perhaps on the other side of the
earth, with a pair of twisters on the culprit. He's a 'wiz,' is M.
Godin. What does he think? He knows what he thinks, and he's the
only individual on the planet that enjoys that distinction. I say,
Allen, do you pump 'Frenchy' for the gentleman's enlightenment," and
again the pair laughed long and heartily.
"Well, then," said Maitland, "since we can't have M. Godin's views
we shall have to content ourselves with those of your more confiding
selves. Let's hear all about the suicide theory."
"I think," said Osborne in an undertone, "you had better ask Miss
Darrow to withdraw for a few moments, as there are some details
likely to pain her." This suggestion was intended only for Maitland,
but the officer, used to talking in the open air, spoke so loudly
that we all overheard him. "I thank you for your consideration,"
Gwen said to him, "but I would much prefer to remain. There can be
nothing connected with this matter which I cannot bear to hear, or
should not know. Pray proceed."
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