some doubt in the mind of one of my men. Mr. Durand, you appear to
have prepared yourself for departure somewhat prematurely. Do you mind
removing that handkerchief for a moment? My reason for so peculiar a
request will presently appear."
Alas, for my last fond hope! Mr. Durand, with a face as white as the
background of snow framed by the uncurtained window against which he
leaned, lifted his hand as if to comply with the inspector's request,
then let it fall again with a grating laugh.
"I see that I am not likely to escape any of the results of my
imprudence," he cried, and with a quick jerk bared his shirt-front.
A splash of red defiled its otherwise uniform whiteness! That it was the
red of heart's blood was proved by the shrinking look he unconsciously
cast at it.
IV. EXPLANATIONS
My love for Anson Durand died at sight of that crimson splash or I
thought it did. In this spot of blood on the breast of him to whom I had
given my heart I could read but one word--guilt--heinous guilt, guilt
denied and now brought to light in language that could be seen and read
by all men. Why should I stay in such a presence? Had not the inspector
himself advised me to go?
Yes, but another voice bade me remain. Just as I reached the door, Anson
Durand found his voice and I heard, in the full, sweet tones I loved so
well:
"Wait I am not to be judged like this. I will explain!"
But here the inspector interposed.
"Do you think it wise to make any such attempt without the advice of
counsel, Mr. Durand?"
The indignation with which Mr. Durand wheeled toward him raised in me a
faint hope.
"Good God, yes!" he cried. "Would you have me leave Miss Van Arsdale one
minute longer than is necessary to such dreadful doubts? Rita--Miss Van
Arsdale--weakness, and weakness only, has brought me into my present
position. I did not kill Mrs. Fairbrother, nor did I knowingly take
her diamond, though appearances look that way, as I am very ready to
acknowledge. I did go to her in the alcove, not once, but twice, and
these are my reasons for doing so: About three months ago a certain
well-known man of enormous wealth came to me with the request that I
should procure for him a diamond of superior beauty. He wished to give
it to his wife, and he wished it to outshine any which could now be
found in New York. This meant sending abroad--an expense he was quite
willing to incur on the sole condition that the stone should not
disapp
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