The next day, Friday, Gertrude broke the news of her stepfather's death
to Louise. She did it as gently as she could, telling her first that
he was very ill, and finally that he was dead. Louise received the
news in the most unexpected manner, and when Gertrude came out to tell
me how she had stood it, I think she was almost shocked.
"She just lay and stared at me, Aunt Ray," she said. "Do you know, I
believe she is glad, glad! And she is too honest to pretend anything
else. What sort of man was Mr. Paul Armstrong, anyhow?"
"He was a bully as well as a rascal, Gertrude," I said. "But I am
convinced of one thing; Louise will send for Halsey now, and they will
make it all up."
For Louise had steadily refused to see Halsey all that day, and the boy
was frantic.
We had a quiet hour, Halsey and I, that evening, and I told him several
things; about the request that we give up the lease to Sunnyside, about
the telegram to Louise, about the rumors of an approaching marriage
between the girl and Doctor Walker, and, last of all, my own interview
with her the day before.
He sat back in a big chair, with his face in the shadow, and my heart
fairly ached for him. He was so big and so boyish! When I had
finished he drew a long breath.
"Whatever Louise does," he said, "nothing will convince me, Aunt Ray,
that she doesn't care for me. And up to two months ago, when she and
her mother went west, I was the happiest fellow on earth. Then
something made a difference: she wrote me that her people were opposed
to the marriage; that her feeling for me was what it had always been,
but that something had happened which had changed her ideas as to the
future. I was not to write until she wrote me, and whatever occurred,
I was to think the best I could of her. It sounded like a puzzle.
When I saw her yesterday, it was the same thing, only, perhaps, worse."
"Halsey," I asked, "have you any idea of the nature of the interview
between Louise Armstrong and Arnold the night he was murdered?"
"It was stormy. Thomas says once or twice he almost broke into the
room, he was so alarmed for Louise."
"Another thing, Halsey," I said, "have you ever heard Louise mention a
woman named Carrington, Nina Carrington?"
"Never," he said positively.
For try as we would, our thoughts always came back to that fatal
Saturday night, and the murder. Every conversational path led to it,
and we all felt that Jamieson was tightening the threads of evidence
around John Bailey. The detective's absence was hardly reassuring; he
must have had something to work on in town, or he would have returned.