Chapter XV: Closer to Masson

Chick was present when Patsy made his report of the afternoon’s work, and listened with interest to the remarks Nick made on it.

“Patsy has settled one end of the case in pretty short order,” said Nick. “The dogs were poisoned by these two men, Crummie and Graff, who were hired to do it by Masson. What further work there is to be done on that line is only that of making the proof strong. Patsy’s work was quickly done, and well done.”

“I had a good deal of luck with me,” said Patsy, modestly, though much pleased with the praise of his chief.

“Luck, Patsy,” said Nick, “usually comes from the right use of your head, and seizing hold of opportunities when they present themselves.”

“Well, chief,” asked Chick, “how does this triumph of Patsy hitch on to the murder end of the case?”

“There is where the puzzle is,” remarked Nick, thoughtfully.

“This morning,” said Chick, “we said that if we found that Masson was not responsible for the death of the dogs it would go far toward putting Masson out from under the suspicion of murder. Does it work the other way when we find that he is responsible for the poisoning?”

“I am afraid that is the way we figured this morning,” said Nick, with a smile. “But after hearing Patsy’s report, I am even more puzzled as to Masson.

“If he was guilty of that murder, he is a cool-blooded wretch to talk of it, as Patsy reports he did.”

“Yes,” said Chick, “his nerve is great. It seems he knew it was not Blanche, but Ethel Romney that was killed.”

“Don’t forget, Chick, that at the time he was talking to these men all the world knew. The evening papers by that time had corrected the error of the morning.”

“True enough,” said Chick, “I had forgotten that. So there is no point in that.”

“But, chief,” cried Patsy, “what are we to do about the lads that are going to Chicago to-night?”

“Let them go,” replied Nick, quietly.

“Let them go?” repeated Chick and Patsy in the same breath.

“Yes; it will be easy enough to get them when we want them. The chief thing is that I want Masson to think that he is right; that we are not paying any attention to the dog end of the case; and, to convince him, if we can, by our action that we have no suspicion as to him as the murderer.”

“And then?” asked Chick, who was at a loss to follow his chief, who was laying out a plan so different from his usual course.

“Then I shall have every step he takes shadowed and every move he makes watched.”

“And yet you do not believe that Masson killed Ethel Romney?”

“It will not do to say that, Chick. I have told you that I am more puzzled over this case than any I ever had to do with. I will admit to you that, starting with the suspicions of Mrs. Constant, and her reasons, all the indications are just as she suggests—that Ethel Romney was killed by Eric Masson, supposing her to be Blanche Constant. But when it is all done, I cannot make up my mind that he did do it.

“Now, I propose to settle that question beyond dispute.”

“Patsy,” said Chick, suddenly, “what sort of looking man is Eric Masson?”

“About your height,” said Patsy, “brown beard and hair, straight nose, pretty high, eyes close together, so dark as to look black, set well back in his head, dresses very swell.”

“Good!” exclaimed Chick. “Now, chief, a man of exactly that description appeared in front of that dressmaker’s place in Sixth Avenue, to which Ethel Romney went, just after Ethel was there the first time, and hung around there so long that three people had their attention attracted to him.

“One of them saw the carriage drive up a second time, saw the lady it carried get out a second time, saw this man dart out of an adjoining doorway and follow her as she passed through into the place, speak to her, come out again and get into that carriage.

“This same person saw the lady come out and attempt to enter the carriage, heard a little cry from her as she stepped in, and saw the man hurriedly close the door of the coach.

“There is something for you to crack, chief.”

“That is what you picked up this afternoon when you left me?” calmly asked Nick.

“Yes.”

“It confirms the stories of both Moran and Rawson. It makes the indications point all the stronger toward Masson.

“Now, I’ll give you something stronger than that. Ten minutes after Ethel Romney drove away from home, Eric Masson called at the Constant residence, asking to see Mrs. Constant.

“The servant who opened the door told him the lady had just driven away in her carriage.

“The servant supposed she was telling the truth, for she had mistaken Ethel for Mrs. Constant. In response to the question as to whether Mrs. Constant had gone out for the evening, the servant replied she thought not, as she had heard Mrs. Constant was going to her dressmaker.”

“Knowing all this you still have doubts, chief?” asked Chick.

“Patsy,” asked Nick, “does Eric Masson walk with a hitch or a jerk to his right shoulder?”

“I saw nothing of it?” replied the lad.

“Chick,” said Nick, “Masson was in his club from six o’clock in the evening until ten at night. Three men stand to swear to it.”

“What time did Ethel Romney leave her home last night?” asked Chick.

“About eight o’clock.”

“It’s a puzzle; more puzzling the deeper you get into it,” said Chick. “If these three men stand firm, Masson can prove an alibi, if charged.”

“Chick, one man stands ready to swear that he saw Eric Masson in Fifty-eighth Street at nine o’clock, for he had just looked at his watch as he saluted Masson.

“Another stands ready to swear that he met and spoke to Eric Masson at about half-past nine, at the corner of Fifty-seventh Street and Fifth Avenue.”

“And this is the result of your inquiries since I parted with you?” asked Chick.

“You think that instead of clearing things they are worse muddled.”

“It would look that way.”

“Well, you’re right. I can’t even imagine an explanation of these contradictions.”

Further conversation on this line was interrupted by the coming of Mrs. Carter, who had been spending the afternoon with Blanche Constant.

She was quite excited, saying:

“It has been a distressing afternoon. Blanche’s grief is almost robbing her of her senses. She blames herself so much that she did not guard Ethel against the dangers she was exposed to.”

Turning suddenly to her husband, she said:

“Nick, how is it that you can doubt for a moment that Masson is the man that murdered Ethel, thinking she was Blanche?”

Chick was about to speak, but Nick checked him, saying:

“Edith, you know, I usually want proof before I believe a man guilty.” Continuing, he said:

“When, having been rejected, Masson learns that Blanche Romney was about to marry Albert Constant, he tells her it will be well neither for herself nor for Constant if she does. It was not nice or manly, yet there is nothing in that to justify a belief in murder.”

“But——”

“Blanche thinks he injured her husband. That is only suspicion. She hints at foul play in Constant’s death, but it is based only on the fact that Masson dined at the same table. At the very best, it is only suspicion.

“She thinks that Masson killed her dogs, but she has no proof. It is only suspicion.”

Patsy looked up in great surprise at Nick when he said the last words. Then he saw that Nick had a purpose in the way he was replying to Edith.

“Well, it is not suspicion when he entices Blanche into an empty house, where he is alone, is it?” cried Edith, quite heatedly.

“What is that you are saying?” asked Nick.

“I didn’t mean to speak of it,” said Edith, “for Blanche is so afraid of the scandal of it. But the grass was hardly green over the grave of her husband when Masson renewed his attentions to Blanche. That was bad enough in itself.

“She drove him away angrily, and yet he persisted in writing to her until she returned his letters unopened.

“Then one day, having by some means learned that Blanche was befriending a poor family, he enticed her to go to see that poor family at a certain house.

“When she entered the house the poor family was not there, but Masson was, and he was alone.

“Then he told her that she was compromised by entering that house, for every one in the neighborhood knew that a bachelor lived there, and had seen her enter.

“Blanche only got out of the house by drawing her revolver and fighting her way out.

“One day, when Blanche was giving a reception, for which she had issued cards, five or six most notorious women entered, having received cards, to scandalize her, and one acknowledged that she had been hired by Masson to go there.

“Then, when Blanche sent for him and threatened him with arrest and prosecution if he continued the persecutions, he declared that he would continue them until she married him; that if she wanted to live it could only be as his wife——”

“Now,” said Nick, springing to his feet, “we have something substantial to go upon. I knew there was something back of all this indefinite suspicion of Mrs. Constant.

“It required Edith’s sympathy to get it out.

“What an infernal scoundrel the fellow is!

“What is true,” he continued, “is that we have for the first time knowledge of a threat on the part of Masson to kill Mrs. Constant.

“That becomes serious. Now we have a new motive for work.

“Patsy, you must be at the Grand Central Station to see your friends, Crummie and Graff, off to Chicago. Let them go, thinking that nobody suspects them.

“Then take up Masson’s shadow. That is to be your work for the present.

“In the meantime, I am growing alarmed about Ida. She was to wire me before this from Philadelphia.”

“Don’t worry, chief,” said Chick. “Ida knows how to take care of herself. If she has not wired you, it is because she means to turn up from that city this evening.”

“I hope so,” said Nick, uneasily.

Then the four went to dinner.