Detective and mystery stories; Stone, Fleming (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
Eunice did not speak until Elliott advised her. “Tell all Eunice--it
is the best way.”
“We had a slight discussion,” Eunice said, “but it was earlier in
the evening. We had spent the evening out--Mr. Embury at his club, and
I at the house of a friend. We came home together--Mr. Embury called for
me in our own car. On reaching home, we had no angry words--and as it
was late, we retired at once. That is all. Mr. Embury closed the door
between our bedrooms, and that is the last I ever saw of him until--this
morning--”
She did not break down, but she seemed to think she had told all and she
ceased speaking.
“And then he was dead,” Shane mused. “What doctor did you call?”
Dr. Crowell took up the narrative and told of Dr. Harper and Dr.
Marsden, who were not now present. He told further of the mysterious and
undiscoverable cause of the death.
“Let me see him,” said Shane, rising suddenly.
Most of this man’s movements were sudden--and as he was in every
respect awkward and uncouth, Eunice’s dislike of him grew momentarily.
“Isn’t he dreadful!” she cried, as the two detectives and the
Medical Examiner disappeared into Embury’s room.
“Yes,” agreed Hendricks, “but, Eunice, you must not antagonize
him. It can’t do any good--and it may do harm.”
“Harm? How?” and Eunice turned her big, wondering eyes on Hendrick.
“Oh, it isn’t wise to cross a man like that. He’s a common clod,
but he represents authority--he represents the law, and we must respect
that fact, however his personal manner offends us.”
“All right, Alvord, I understand; but there’s no use in my seeing
him again. Can’t you and Mason settle up things and let Aunt Abby and
me go to our rooms?”
“No, Eunice,” Hendricks’ voice was grave. “You must stay here.
And, too, they will go through your room, searching.”
“My room! My bedroom! They shan’t! I won’t have it! Mason, must I
submit to such horrible things?”
“Now, Eunice, dear,” Mason Elliott spoke very gently, “we can’t
blink matters. We must face this squarely. The police think Sanford was
murdered. They’re endeavoring to find out who killed him. To do their
duty in the matter they have to search everywhere. It’s the law, you
know, and we can’t get away from it. So, try to take it as quietly as
you can.”
“Oh, my! oh, my!” wailed Aunt Abby; “that I should live to see
this day! A murder in my own family! No wonder poor Sanford’s troubled
spirit paused in its passing to bid me farewell.”
Eunice shrieked. “Aunt Abby, if you start up that talk, I shall go
stark, staring mad! Hush! I won’t have it!”
“Let up on the spook stuff, Miss Ames,” begged Hendricks. “Our
poor Eunice is just about at the end of her rope.”
“So am I!” cried Aunt Abby. “I’m entitled to some consideration!
Here’s the whole house turned upside down with a murder and police and
all that, and nobody considers me! It’s all Eunice!” Then, with
a softened voice, she added, “And Lord knows, she’s got enough to
bear!”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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