Detective and mystery stories; Stone, Fleming (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
"Of course it is! Very likely! You _are_ a smart chap, ain't you!"
Mr. Hughes' admiration was so full and frank that Stone smiled.
"That isn't a very difficult deduction," he said, "but we must verify
it. This afternoon, we'll drive over there with Miss Clyde, and see if
we can track down the house we're after."
* * * * *
Fleming Stone went alone to his interview with Winston Barnard. He found
the young man willing to talk, but hopelessly dejected.
"There's no use, Mr. Stone," he said, after some roundabout
conversation, "I'll be railroaded through. I didn't kill my aunt, but
the circumstantial evidence is so desperately strong against me that
nobody will believe me innocent. They can't prove it, because they can't
find out how I got in, or rather out, but as there's nobody else to
suspect, they'll stick to me."
"How _did_ you get out?"
"Not being in, I didn't get out at all."
"I mean when you were there in the morning!"
Winston Bannard turned white and bestowed on his interlocutor a glance
of utter despair.
"For Heaven's sake!" he exclaimed, "you've been in Berrien less than two
days, and you've got that, have you?"
"I have, Mr. Bannard, and before we go further, let me say that I am
your friend, and that I do not think you are guilty of murder or of
theft."
"Thank you, Mr. Stone," and Bannard interrupted him to grasp his hand.
"That's the first word of cheer I've had! My lawyer is a half-hearted
champion, because he believes in his soul that I did it!"
"Have you told him the whole truth?"
"I have not! I couldn't! Every bit of it would only drag me deeper into
the mire of inexplicable mystery."
"Will you tell it all to me?"
"Gladly, if you'll promise to believe me."
"I can't promise that, blindly, but I'll tell you that I think I Shall
be able to recognize the truth as you tell it. Did you write the letter
signed William Ashton?"
"Lord, no! Why would I do that?"
"To get the pin----"
"Now, hold on, before we go further, Mr. Stone, do satisfy my curiosity.
Is that pin, that foolish, common little pin of any value?"
"I think so, Mr. Bannard. I can't tell until I see it----"
"But man, why _see_ it? It's just like any common pin! I examined it
myself, and it isn't bent or twisted, or different in any way from
millions of other pins."
"Quite evidently then, you've not tried to get possession of it. Your
scorn of it is sincere, I'm certain."
"You may be! I've no interest in that pin, for I know it was only a fool
joke of Aunt Ursula's to tease poor little Iris."
"Her joking habit was most annoying, was it not?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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