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As they went by us gaily indulging in the jokes and light banter with which such men season a social dinner, I saw Mr. Gryce's face grow sober by many a shade; and when in the midst of it all, we heard the voice of Mr. Blake rise in that courteous and measured tone for which it is distinguished, I saw him reach forward and grasp his cane with an uneasiness I had never seen displayed by him before.
"In short, it is a large sheet, trimmed down to the size of commercial note?" "Yes." "And is that all you see?" "All but the words." "Don't you perceive what has been lost by means of this trimming down?" "No, unless you mean the manufacturer's stamp in the corner." Mr. Gryce's glance took meaning. "But I don't see why the loss of that should be deemed a matter of any importance." "Don't you?
"What I want ter know," said a mountaineer newly arrived on the scene, sitting on the verge of the precipice, and dangling his long legs over the depths beneath, "air how do folks ez live 'way down in Lonesome Cove, an' who nobody knowed nuthin about noways, ever git 'lected ranger o' the county, ennyhow. I ain't s'prised none ter hear 'bout Tobe Gryce's goin's-on hyar las' night.
Two women in the affair, and one of them in the house before the arrival of the so-called victim and her murderer! What do you think of that, Inspector? Rather late for us to find out so important a detail, eh?" "Rather," was the dry reply. At which Mr. Gryce's face grew long and he exclaimed, half shamefacedly, half jocularly: "Outwitted by a woman!
Do you remember the exact spot where you stooped, Miss Watkins?" "No, no. Somewhere near those big chairs; I didn't have to step out of my way; I really didn't." Mr. Gryce's answering smile was a study. It seemed to convey a two-fold message, one for the mother and one for the child, and both were comforting. But he went away, disappointed.
Gryce's fingers were drumming out on the table-top. It was infinitesimal in length, but it gave Sweetwater courage to add: "Then, I hear that he wishes to marry a rich girl and shrinks from proposing to her on account of his small salary." "What has that got to do with it?" "Nothing so far as I can see. I am only elaborating the meager report lying there under your hand. But I recognize my folly.
Gryce's compressed lips, and no more. Determined that he should speak, I waited. "You have, then, some one in your mind "; he remarked at last, almost flippantly. "I mention no names," I returned. "All I want is further time." "You are, then, intending to make a personal business of this matter?" "I am." He gave a long, low whistle.
But pre-eminent, gaunt, sombre, it sternly dominates "Lonesome," and is the salient feature of the little world it limits. Tobe Gryce's house, gray, weather-beaten, moss-grown, had in comparison an ephemeral, modern aspect. For a hundred years its inmates had come and gone and lived and died. They took no heed of the crag, but never a sound was lost upon it.
Just an ordinary woman, lost in a dream of some kind while awaiting her departure on an out-going train! or such was Detective Gryce's conclusion as he hobbled slowly past her. Why should he give her a moment's thought? Yet he did.
I was glad to hear that; and I am ready to listen to anything." The pause she made before uttering the last word caused it to ring with double force when it fell. All heads drooped at the sound and the lines came out on Mr. Gryce's face till he looked his eighty-five years and more.
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