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Updated: June 6, 2025
The sound had acted like magic upon the prostrate man. He did not need the admonition. He had already dragged his shaking body to an upright position, ere he slowly sank down into the embrace of one of the huge armchairs. A quick knock was followed by the appearance of Teddy Mahr.
Brencherly ran down the hall, the servant preceding him. As the door swung wide, Dorothy, followed by Teddy Mahr, entered the hallway. She stopped suddenly, face to face with a stranger. "Who are you? What do you want?" she asked, sudden fear and suspicion in her eyes. Brencherly explained quickly. "Mr. Gard employed me, Miss Marteen, to find your mother, if possible and she is here.
"Does that answer my question, sir?" Again Brencherly gasped at his own temerity. "Young man," bellowed Gard, half rising from his chair, "what are you trying to infer?" Brencherly stood up. "Please, Mr. Gard, be frank with me. I want to help you; I want to see you through. It can be done I'm sure of it. No one knows about your trouble with Mahr.
"If you do that they'll tumble to you, Mr. Gard. It's an even chance Mr. Mahr would have any messages reported. He could, you know; he's a pretty important stockholder in the transmission companies. You'd better have a watchman or an alarm attachment on the safe, if you can." Gard sat silent. He was reasoning out the motive of Mahr's move. Did Mrs.
The marvelous canvas glowed before them a thing to quell anger, to stifle love, to still hate itself in an impulse of admiration. Suddenly Marcus Gard began to laugh, as he had laughed that day long ago, at his own discomfiture. "What is it?" stuttered Mahr, amazed. "Don't you think it genuine?" There was panic in his tone.
There's a woman across my hall who says she can make stars " She broke off abruptly as for the first time she became aware of Gard's presence in the room. "Why, there you are!" she exclaimed delightedly. "Now, that's good! You can tell these people what you found." "But Mr. Mahr was stabbed, Mrs. Welles," Gard interrupted. "You said you struck him with a pistol." "Oh, I did that afterward."
On the table lay an ancient flintlock pistol, somewhat apart from a heap of small arms belonging to an eighteenth century trophy. Murder! Murder and Mrs. Marteen! His imagination pictured her beautiful still face suddenly becoming maniacal with fury and pain. Gard suppressed an exclamation. Well, he would swear Mahr was alive at half after eleven, when he had seen him.
Her white pinched face looked skull-like in the faint light. "Yes," she said slowly, "seems to me that I remember some woman saying she killed Victor Mahr, and me getting angry about it and then I don't seem to know just what happened. Well, young man, I'm much obliged to you, I'm sure. 'Tain't often an old woman like me gets so well taken care of."
Victor Mahr rose from his seat, and with a curt nod to Gard, who feigned interest elsewhere, disappeared into the corridor. Mrs. Marteen stood at her desk, a mammoth affair of Jacobean type, holding in her hand a sheet of crested paper, scrawled over in a large, tempestuous hand.
Well, he needs the best legal advice that's to be had, or I miss my guess." He rose and took leave of his friend, entered his motor and was driven rapidly uptown. Still his thoughts were of Mrs. Marteen, and again unaccountable annoyance possessed him. Confound it! Mahr had been held up. Clifton knew about it; that argued that Mahr had taken the facts, whatever they were, to them.
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