"You can go at once to see the apartment," I said; "but to look at the pin we shall have to wait until morning, as I think it is in charge of the coroner."
"It must all wait till morning," said Fleming Stone, "as I have other work that I must attend to this evening."
I accepted my dismissal, and, making an appointment to call for him the next day, I turned my steps homeward.
I had purposely said nothing to Fleming Stone of my suspicion of George Lawrence. Indeed, it was scarcely strong enough to be called a suspicion, and, too, the mere idea of his going into the apartment implied the idea of his being let in by Janet. Therefore, I had contended myself with telling Stone the facts as I knew them, and suppressing my own opinion. Also, it seemed a dreadful thing to cast suspicion on Lawrence, when I had no evidence of any sort.
[XXII]
A CALL ON MISS WARING
When I arose next morning I assured myself that I was in all probability the happiest man in the city. With Fleming Stone's assurance that that very night should see the Pembroke mystery cleared up, and with the knowledge in my heart that Janet loved me, I felt that my future outlook was little less than glorious.
I had given up all ambition to be a detective; I even had little care as to the outcome of Fleming Stone's investigation—granting, of course, that Janet and George were in no way implicated. I could have given myself up to the happy dreams which are usually said to be indulged in by men of fewer years than my own, but I remembered my appointment and hastened away to meet Fleming Stone.