Chapter VII: Probing a Mystery

It was true.

Everybody in society, and a great many who were not knew the name of Madge Hurd Babbington; knew about the remarkable beauty and talent of the young woman who had formerly been an actress, but who had married from the stage into the very elite of society; who had speedily divorced her first husband and married a second one, who had died within a year afterward.

Both her husbands were supposed to be rich, but the first one had so cleverly arranged his wealth that in the divorce proceedings the plaintiff had been able to secure but very little; and it was found after the death of her second husband that his supposedly large fortune had dwindled to little or nothing.

Since her widowhood Mrs. Babbington’s name had been linked with several in a supposed approaching marriage, but Nick could not remember that he had read anywhere that Lynne was one of them.

As for the woman herself, nothing had ever been whispered against her in any form that the detective could recall, and he thought to himself that, if Lynne had really been with her all that time and could establish that fact, it would prove an effectual barrier to all the suspicions he felt, yet did not want to feel.

“Where were you?” he asked, after a moment of thought.

“We attended a reception at the home of Madame de Seville.”

“Was Miss Lynne at that reception?”

“She was.”

“Who was her escort, if she had one?”

“I took her there myself.”

“Did you also take her home again?”

“I did.”

“At what time?”

“She complained of not feeling well, and it was, I should say, about midnight, when she sought me out and asked me to send her home. I took her to the car that was waiting, and entered it with her. I drove home with her.”

“Did you enter the house with her?”

“No. She said it was unnecessary. I returned at once to the reception.”

“Did you see her enter the house?”

“No. I have thought about that since this--this terrible thing has happened. I supposed I had seen my daughter enter her home, but, as I recall it now, I only saw her mount the steps in front of it. I did not actually see her enter the house.”

“You took your daughter to the reception with you--was Mrs. Babbington with you at that time?”

“No. It had been arranged that we were to meet at Madame de Seville’s. It was my intention to take them both in my car when we came away.”

“Then your daughter was aware of the engagement between you and Mrs. Babbington?”

“If you will pardon me for just one word of protest, Mr. Carter, I confess that I do not in the least see what all this private matter has to do with the subject in hand.”

“Did your daughter know about the engagement?” Nick asked again, without a change of his tone.

“She did not,” replied Lynne, with just a little show of heat. “It was my intention to tell her about it last night. The fact that she did not feel well, and that she wished to return home early, spoiled that intention.”

“Miss Lynne was well enough to start for the reception, but not well enough to remain, so I assume that she became ill after she arrived there--or do you suppose that she only pretended to be ill?”

“In the light of what has happened since, I can only suppose that she purposely deceived me, since in some manner, as soon as she parted with me, she must have started for Pleasantglades, though why----”

“What is there, at Pleasantglades, that could have drawn her there last night?”

“Nothing. Not a thing in the world that I know about.”

“Nothing that you can surmise?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

“When you returned to the reception after leaving your daughter at the door of your own home, did you remain there?”

“No; truth to tell, I did not.”

“What did you do, and where did you go?”

“Really, Mr. Carter, one would suppose----”

“We need suppose nothing at all, Mr. Lynne. You agreed to reply to my questions.”

“But all this is so preposterous.”

“Do you keep all your promises as unwillingly as you are adhering to this one?” Nick asked sharply.

“You are making it rather hard for me, Mr. Carter.”

Nick turned quickly to the man, and said sharply:

“Lynne, do you wish to be charged with the murder of your own daughter? If not, answer my questions.”

“My God, Carter, what do you mean by that?”

“Just what I say. Who is there but yourself who could have induced Edythe Lynne to go to Pleasantglades after midnight last night? Do you know such a man?”

“No, no; I do not.”

“Then reply to my questions. What did you do, and where did you go, when you returned to the reception after leaving your daughter?”

“I sought Mrs. Babbington at once, and told her about Edythe. I suggested that we had had enough of the party, and she agreed with me. She sent for her wraps, and we left there at once.”

“Where did you go?”

“To her home.”

“It was then what time?”

“Approximately one o’clock; perhaps a trifle later. I am not sure.”

“You entered the house with her?”

“I did. There is, on the first floor, a room that she calls her ‘cozy room,’ and we seated ourselves in there. We were talking over our future plans, and time passed more swiftly than I supposed. It was nearly three o’clock before I was aware of it. I left there, then, and went home.”

“In your car? Was that waiting for you?”

“No. I had sent that on to the garage. I told the chauffeur that I would not need him again. Surface transportation and the subway were sufficient.”

“You arrived home, you say, at three o’clock?”

“Approximately that, yes.”

“When I called upon you this morning you were preparing to go to Pleasantglades?”

“I was.”

“What was the business that was taking you there?”

“Nothing of importance. You probably do not know it, but there is a burglar-proof vault beneath the north wing of the house at Pleasantglades. It was built there, when that wing was built, five years ago. The existence of it has been kept a secret. In that vault are some heirlooms and jewels, and other things of value--in fact, there is a fortune there, Mr. Carter, in jewels, securities, and bonds.”

“You were going there this morning, then, to visit that vault?”

“Yes.”

“For no other reason?”

“No; to tell you the truth there are some jewels there which I wished to present to my fiancée to-day. It happens to be her birthday. That was the reason for my proposed visit.”

“Your daughter knew of the existence of the vault?”

“Of course.”

“And what it contains?”

“No, only in a general way.”

“Mr. Lynne, who has had charge of the keys to the lock on the iron gate, at Pleasantglades? or where were they kept?”

“I always kept them in my own possession--there are three of them, and you use one after another in opening the lock.”

“I know. Where are those keys now?”

“I do not know.”

“You don’t know? Why don’t you know?”

“I thought I knew exactly where they were until after you had gone from my house this morning. But when I went to get them, they were not in the place where I keep them. They had disappeared--and there is only one explanation: my daughter must have taken them.”

“Again, where did you keep them?”

“In a small safe in my own sleeping room.”

“A combination safe?”

“Yes.”

“Did Edythe know that combination?”

“Yes.”

“How is that?”

“How is what?”

“How does it happen that she knew the combination of that private safe, in your sleeping room, where doubtless you kept things of an exceedingly private nature?”

“Oh, as to that, there is nothing so very private in that safe. Edythe knew the combination, because it was only yesterday that I had occasion to send her to the safe for some papers I wanted, and I gave her the combination at that time.”

“Has she never known it before?”

“I don’t think so.”

“What sort of locks are on the doors of that vault you have partly described, at Pleasantglades?”

“There are two combination locks on the outer doors, two more on the inner doors.”

“So it requires the knowledge of four combinations to get into the vault?”

“Yes.”

“Did Edythe know those combinations?”

“She did at one time. Whether she remembered them or not, I could not say.”

“How did it happen that she knew them at all?”

“She wrote them down for me in the little book where I keep them. I remember now, at that time I suggested to her that it would be well if she kept copies of them, in case anything should happen to me, and I think she did so, although the subject has never been mentioned between us since that time.”

“Wouldn’t it have been better to have deposited copies of the combinations with your bankers, or in one of your safe-deposit boxes in the city, to be used in case of accident to yourself?”

“I suppose so. In fact, that has been done; but I did not think of it at the moment. I preferred that Edythe should hold the secret herself.”

“I see,” said Nick. “Well, perhaps it was as well.”