"I couldn't stop
myself. 'Nobody's said anything against you,' I told her, 'but then nobody ever knows what you're thinking. You don't really care a scrap for Rip Hillboro or Yancey Beale either, do you? There's another boyfriend, isn't there? And it's Mark Sheldon, isn't it?'
" 'Mark's
married/
Madge said; 'he's married to a silly woman so jealous she won't let him out of her sight. Anyway, married or not, isn't he awfully young?' 'Young?' I said. 'He's three or four years older than you, whether or not you think you're the one who's emotionally mature. If one woman knows anything about another woman,' I said, 'the man in question
is
Mark Sheldon. It doesn't matter; you needn't tell me. But, before somebody who's rather fond of you herself goes completely out of her mind, please tell me what happened up here between you and Valerie.'
"She was going to tell me; I could feel in my bones and soul she was going to tell me. But just then there was a knock at the door. In came that young policeman—Sergeant Duckworth, isn't it?—and in a polite way ordered me out. 'I can't help it, ma'am; it's the captain's orders.' Madge wasn't unsteady on her feet; she jumped up and said, 'Are they putting me under guard again? Do they really think I'm in dang
er of being murdered?' The ser
geant said, 'There's other things besides murder,' and held the door open for me to go."
Camilla paused, her gaze leaving Alan. Suddenly she walked to one of the glass doors and stood staring out so intently that he wondered if she had seen Valerie, who must still be somewhere in the garden.
But evidently Camilla was only th
inking. She returned to him, lifting eyes again lost in speculation.
"After I left Madge," she resumed, "I went to my own bedroom. One of the maids, Judith, was there doing some tidying up. Judith is more talkative, or less apprehensive, than either Sylvia or Winnie Mae. She's quite a pretty girl.
I
hate pumping servants; it seems horribly low and underhand. But I was still carried away. I asked her if
she
knew anything."
"And did she?"
"Only what I'm going to tell you. If you remember, you and Dr. Fell and Yancey and I left for Fort Moultrie at shortly before one o'clock? Captain Ashcroft left for his office at about the same time?"
"Yes. Well?"
"Following our very late breakfast, a light lunch was served about half-past one. Valerie and Rip and Mr. Crandall ate in the dining-room. Judith carried a tray up to Madge, who swore she didn't want anything but promised to try. Then Judith hovered in the hall upstairs, waiting for Madge to finish. She hovered for quite some time.
"When the others had finished in the dining-room, Rip and Mr. Crandall came in here to watch a Saturday baseball game on television. I don't know who was playing, but it doesn't matter. Valerie wouldn't go with them. Valerie prowled from room to room downstairs, talking to herself and not seeming to like it.
"Some time later—she isn't sure when—Judith went into Madge's room to get the tray. The tray had been barely touched. Judith had just picked it up when the door was flung open. In stalked Valerie, in a simmering kind of rage, and ordered Judith out.
"Judith with the tray got no farther than the head of the stairs; I wouldn't have, either. Judith listened; I'd have listened too.
"There was some kind o
f trouble between Madge and
Valerie. But each was doing her best to keep her voice down, and no distinct words could be heard through the closed door. This went on for some time too. There was a silence. Then somebody ran pelting across the bedroom. Another silence, and somebody else ran too. There was a noise like a glass breaking, and a voice cried out."
"Just a moment, Camilla!" Alan interposed. "Who did the running? Who chased whom?"
"Judith couldn't tell. 'It was awful, miss! Like a hanty house, only worse!' Just at that emotional moment Captain Ashcroft, who'd evidently returned from Charleston with Sergeant Duckworth, came charging up the stairs. He ran by Judith and opened the door of Madge's room. Judith sort of dodged after him and looked past his shoulder.
"If you've been in Madge's room you know the bathroom is over on the left-hand side. The bathroom door was open. Valerie was just inside, holding Madge's arms and snaking her. She's the athletic type; she could have thrown Madge out of the window if she'd wanted to.
"That's all Judith saw; Captain Ashcroft slammed the door. Judith stumbled downstairs with the tray, and slipped and nearly fell. Rip Hillboro and Mr. Crandall were in the lower hall. Rip said, 'What's the rumpus; what's up?' Judith said, 'It's Miss Madge and Mrs. Hooray; somebody gettin' killed!'
"Bob Crandall ran upstairs and tried to find out what was what, but the sergeant was on guard now and wouldn't let him in. You'd have thought Rip at least would have been the first to go to Madge's assistance. But he didn't even make a move to; he just paced and fidgeted. It must have been afterwards he decided to borrow Yancey's car and follow us.
"That's all I can tell you, Alan, because it's all Judith saw or heard. What happened in Madge's room is anybody's guess. I don't even know where Valerie is; I haven't seen her anywhere. But I've been thinking . .
”
Alan considered.
There seemed no reason to report that he had seen Valerie, in a passion of stealth, creep down the back stairs to the garden. Also vivid in his mind was an image of Madge as he pictured her on the chaise-longue, with
a
puzzle-box such as the puzzle Mark Sheldon had been juggling at Davy's Restaurant the night before. All dangerous elements could be seen here, being tilted and juggled together like the contents of the glass-topped box. But there were no quicksilver pellets in a trumpery puzzle; they were emotional bombs that might explode at any moment.
"Yes?" he said. "What have you been thinking?"
Camilla put her hand on his arm and looked up.
"I've seen Madge," she replied. "Mr. Maynard's death was a dreadful shock, and this business today hasn't helped!—
But—!"
"But what?"
"I was afraid," Camilla fought some internal struggle, "I was afraid of finding her crushed or stricken, and it wasn't like that at all. It suddenly occurred to me, while I was talking to her, I've been worrying about her more than she's been worrying about herself. Madge is resilient; we tend to forget how resilient; the worst blow doesn't affect her for very long. I've put my own affairs into the background; I've cursed myself for not thinking more about Madge. And yet, if only this
mystery
could be cleared up . . . can you guess what I'm trying to say?"
"I think so. It's that Philadelphia-Scotch conscience of yours. You've put your own affairs into the background, when there wasn't any real need to do it. Also, since you and I have so much to say to each other . . ."
"Have
we so much to say to each other?"
"You know we have, when you stop worrying about what you ought to do. Look here, Camilla, I've got a suggestion to make."
"Then go ahead and make it!" interrupted the voice of Captain Ashcroft. "Don't l
et us stop you or interrupt you!
Go ahead and get it off your chest!"
The detective, looking mentally rumpled, loomed up in the archway to the far room. Just behind him towered the bulk of Dr. Fell. Then Captain Ashcroft's eye remembered a grievance.
"Now I've got a question," he continued, "I want answered in one word. No evasions, no funny business, just the truth! When Dr. Fell and I went into what we thought was a secret session up on the top floor late last night, were you two gettin' an earful at the door?"
"The answer in one word," said Alan, "is yes."
Captain Ashcroft's face seemed to swell up.
"Later I thought you must 'a' been, though at the time I couldn't be sure. Now, I ought to get mad; I ought to read the riot-act; I ought to chew you out good and proper. But—oh, hell! Looks as though we're nearer the end o' this business than a few hours ago I'd 'a' thought was possible. Since you've heard so much, maybe it won't hurt if you hear a little more. Not everything—that wouldn't be right or fair, damn you!—but a little. I'm right proud of Dr. Fell here, and a little bit proud of myself too. Dr. Fell . . ."
Dr. Fell, hat under one arm and stick under the other, sailed through the doorway like a great galleon.
"It would be untrue," he explained, "to say I have been communing with the ghost of Henry Maynard. But traces of his personality are all over the place. Would you imagine so fastidious a gentleman as addicted to using his hands for household chores, or that he had any skill at such a job! And yet he was and had. The invaluable George assured me of this, a statement borne out by the workbench and set of tools you will find in the cellar. There is more! Since he himself had drawn our attention to the baseball equipment in the cellar, it seemed the proper place to look for other sporting gear. Somebody said he was interested in fishing, I think?"
"Somebody said he was a fisherman," returned Alan, "but you weren't there when the remark was made. How do you know he was interested in fishing?"
"Miss Bruce told me."
"I
told you?"
Dr. Fell looked at Alan.
"As a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles," he said apologetically, "I must confess I have questioned both you and the young lady at various times—notably late last night—when you were scarcely aware of being questioned and don't even remember it. Anything you two have heard or seen has now been registered on the dim old tablets of my own memory. In a damp
-
proof cabinet beside the workbench, C
aptain Ashcroft and I have dis
covered the sections that make up a fishing-rod, together with various trout
-
flies and several spools of Monofilament fishing-line. There were also two revolvers, both unloaded, though with a box of ammunition for each. The captain, with what seemed to me an excess of zeal, rather irritably forbade me to examine the revolvers as much as I should have liked."
"Examine 'em, for God's sake?" roared Captain Ashcroft. "He was lookin' down the barrel and pullin' the trigger, that's all. He's clumsy enough as it is; he messed around with the tools till he busted a saw. We don't want him to blow his fool head off before he gives us the last fact!"
"Speaking of the last fact," Alan said with a certain wildness, "I take it this bears some relation to a solution inspired by
The Gold Bug?"
"It does, young fellow, and closer to buried treasure than you might think. Anything else?"
"Yes. Since we've admitted to eavesdropping last night, what about the Sheraton desk? You were looking for a secret drawer; you said you had a man who specialized in such things. Did he find one?"
"Jerry Wexford, you mean? Jerry's had the desk since this morning. If there's any secret drawer and any paper in it, as Dr. Fell thinks there is, he's found it by this time. What's your suggestion?"
"My suggestion?"
"When I walked in here and interrupted you, you told the young lady you had a suggestion to make. Of course," said Captain Ashcroft, making a broadly tolerant gesture, "if it's too private and personal to be repeated in public . . . !"
"It's not private at all. I was going to invite her to dinner." Alan turned. "What do you say, Camilla? You wouldn't go to Davy's yesterday evening; you intimated you'd never go under any circumstances. But this is your sincere well-wisher speaking; won't you change your mind and go tonight?"
"I will! I'd love to! If you promise not to sneer at me, that is, and if Captain Ashcroft doesn't think I'm needed here?"
"You're not needed her
e, ma'am. You go; I'm urgin' you to go, and I’l
l tell you why. Dr. Fell's the one
I'll
invite to dinner; in fact, I've already invited him. I want him to eat fried chicken as my wife cooks it: not what he'll get in most restaurants. And Mr. Grantham don't seem like a bad sort, if he's met halfway. So you just go along, ma'am, and try to enjoy yourself."
Camilla looked at him. "Are
you
enjoying yourself, Captain? You almost sound as though you were."
"Enjoyin' this mess? Not so's you could notice it I'm not! It's a bad business, worse'n you'll guess till the lid blows off, and it gets no better even when we start to close in."
Here Captain Ashcroft, after nursing his jaw in deep thought, made a still broader gesture.
"A little less'n half an hour ago, Miss Bruce, I told Yancey Beale and Rip Hillboro to make 'emselves scarce for a while. Why don't you and Mr. Grantham do the same thing? It's too early for dinner, but there's other things to do. Go down to the beach, look at the gardens, walk as far as the Poinsett High School! Apart from one more phone-call to set some wheels in motion, Dr. Fell and I have a job to do now. It's not the pleasantest job in the world; we don't want witnesses or even potential witnesses. Yes, and another thing . . . !"