Detective Fiction Weekly. Vol. 36, No. 4, October 20, 1928

I quit watching Flash and the girl, and gave my undivided attention to the shadow. At a point twenty feet after I discovered the shadow I came to a gate in the hedge, and passed through. The skulker was then only ten feet or so ahead of me, with Flash and Marthe about twice as far beyond.

Whether the shadow discovered me, or whether somebody else caused a disturbance, I don’t know. But the black patch in front of me stopped suddenly, wheeled and dashed for the shadow of the trees on our right. I sprang forward, reached out and caught the edge of a flowing robe, there was a ripping noise, the cloth gave way — and I was left standing with a square of red silk in my hand. It felt bulky, and I peered intently at it.

“A pocket!” I exclaimed softly. “I ripped it clear away! And that’s not all!”

There was a handkerchief inside the pocket. A dainty one — and it reeked with lilac perfume!

Chapter XIV Tommy Rages

Flash Santelle called from a point a few feet off.

“Who is it?” he demanded.

“Norton,” I answered. “Come here for a minute.”

He joined me, leaving Marthe alone.

“There’s a stranger scouting about the grounds,” I told him. “I’ve been following her—”

“Her?” he broke in. “You mean to say—”

“I mean to say it, if you’ll keep quiet and let me,” I interrupted. “Here’s the lay: A woman is interested in somebody here, and that somebody appears to be you. She was trailing you and your companion, and I trailed her. She ran, but I got a grip on her gown, cloak, or whatnot, and — here, smell this.”

I thrust the handkerchief under his nose. He took one deep whiff, then seized the bit of cloth in a hand, gripping it tightly, snapping his jaws rigidly together. Only for a moment did he exhibit signs of surprise and — shall I say consternation?

“One of the guests, probably,” he ventured, returning the handkerchief, his voice easy and natural. “No woman would be prowling about here at night — no outsider, I mean. Thanks, Norton, for keeping such good watch. And now that you are here, may I ask you to keep Miss Bailey company while I go to the house for a few minutes?”

I joined Marthe, made apologies for Flash, and managed to amuse her until he came back. Then I departed.

Flash had gone to order the servants out into the grounds to search. I found that out very shortly by bumping into them here and there.

Strange, I thought, that he should show so little concern over the prospect of a man hiding in the brush — the three-fingered party, probably — with evil intent, but the moment he smelled that lilac perfume he was all up in the air. Didn’t waste a minute routing out the guard.

I was already interested in that sealed letter deposited with me the day before, but my interest grew by leaps and bounds then. Of course, the lilac-lady of the river path and the one who came to my office might not be the same, but I couldn’t help associating them. Maybe it was the effect of the perfume. At any rate, I began to wish for the hour of ten to roll round. Maybe the letter would clear up some of the mystery — all of it.

Near the house I bumped squarely into Tommy Patterson.

“You’re a devil of a fellow!” I exclaimed. “When I want you I can’t find you, and when I’m not even thinking about you I find you under my feet. What’s the idea for all this racing about the grounds? Practicing for a long-distance sprint?”

“Listen!” he hissed, drawing me into the shadow of a tree. “By God, Norton, something has got to be done! You’ll call me a cad for what I did tonight, but I had to do it — couldn’t keep from it! I listened to a conversation—”

“Between Flash and Marthe,” I interrupted. “I know the preliminaries, so you can skip ’em. Give me the gist of the conversation.”

“He proposed to her, damn him!”

That was news!

“Think of it, Norton — that damned crook asked Marthe to be his wife! And she — I can’t hardly believe it, even now! — said yes! I heard her!”

Well, that proved me right about the monkey-wrench number one.

“Go on,” I urged. “The parson hasn’t spliced ’em yet, has he?”

“You’re not trying to be funny?”

“Not at all. I’m just reminding you that until the fatal words have been uttered by somebody in authority, there’s a chance they never will be. Aren’t you behaving rather like an overgrown kid?”

“Hell!” he snapped, gripping my arm until his fingers must have bruised the flesh. “Do you think I’d raise a rumpus under ordinary circumstances? I wouldn’t. If Marthe, or any other girl, threw me over I’d swallow the dose, no matter how bitter it might be. But this is not an ordinary situation. That fellow is a crook, Norton, and I’d swear it. He has fallen in love with Bailey’s money, managed to fascinate Marthe, and unless somebody prevents it she’ll marry him. That’s why I’m raising hell, and why I mean to keep on raising it!”