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Updated: June 3, 2025
Then the swaying curtain at the doorway of the tent dropped once more, and all was still. The play was over, and the orchestra had ceased. Camp Burnam's story was ended. "I do believe every-day things are pleasantest, after all," said Allie contentedly. It was a month after their camping party, and she and her mother were comfortably settled in the parlor, with the mending basket between them.
We rode home after visiting the drug-store. I was not going to subject Lena or myself to another midnight walk through Twenty-seventh Street. The next day at noon Lena brought me up a card on her tray. It was a perfectly blank one. "Miss Van Burnam's maid said you sent for this," was her demure announcement.
"The first fact to be settled was, of course, whether your identification of him as the gentleman who accompanied his victim into Mr. Van Burnam's house could be corroborated by any of the many persons who had seen the so-called Mr. James Pope at the Hotel D .
I told him that in case Howard Van Burnam was put under arrest, I should take it upon myself to stir up matters; and I have." "Then you do not believe in Mr. Van Burnam's guilt? Not even in his complicity, I suppose?" ventured the Inspector. "I do not know anything about his complicity; but I do not believe the stroke given to his wife came from his hand." "I see, I see.
She escaped by the front door, which her husband had mercifully forborne to lock; and she had not been discovered by the police, because her appearance did not tally with the description which had been given them. How did I know this? Remember the discoveries I had made in Miss Van Burnam's room, and allow them to assist you in understanding my conclusions.
"Two letters came of it," said I. "One from Cox, the milliner, saying that a bareheaded girl had bought a hat in his shop early on the morning designated; and another from a Mrs. Desberger appointing a meeting at which I obtained a definite clue to this girl, who, notwithstanding she wore Mrs. Van Burnam's clothes from the scene of tragedy, is not Mrs.
When did the two women exchange clothes, or rather, when did this woman procure the silk habiliments and elaborate adornments of her more opulent rival? Was it before either of them entered Mr. Van Burnam's house? Or was it after their encounter there?
I drew back and their sentimentalities came to an end. I hope their brother Howard is not the guilty man the papers make him out to be, but if he is, the Misses Van Burnam's fine phrase, We could almost love you, will not deter me from being honest in the matter. Mr.
"Taken there, and hung there by your maid! By the girl Lena, who has so evidently been working in your interests! What sort of a confession are you making, Miss Butterworth?" "Ah, Mr. Gryce," I gently remonstrated, for I actually pitied the old man in his hour of humiliation, "other girls wear gray besides Lena. It was the woman of the Hotel D who played this trick in Mr. Van Burnam's office.
As I turned to go back to the hotel, I looked up at this clock. It was half-past eleven." We were all by this time greatly interested in the proceedings; and when another hackman was called we recognized at once that an effort was about to be made to connect this couple with the one who had alighted at Mr. Van Burnam's door.
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