He had been anxious to take out an insurance policy for his daughter before it became too late for him to do so; but, he affirmed, he did not kill his master for the purpose. The agent had been after him frequently, of late, to urge him to borrow the money for the premium. But this, Mrs. Adler did not want him to do, for, she argued, the interest on the loan and the premiums would counterbalance the value of the policy. They had had many discussions of the subject, for Mr. Adler, a very sick man, had wanted to die knowing that his wife had some provision for her old age. His illness precluded any insurance on his own life.
Not interested in these minute details, Groot questioned Stryker closely about the handkerchief.
“I don’t know,” Stryker said. “I don’t know, I’m sure, how my kerchief got into those woods, but I do know I didn’t take it there.”
“Could it have been taken from your room?”
“It must ’a’ been. Leastways, unless it was taken from the clothes line on a wash day,—or mebbe it blew off and was picked up by somebody passin’.”
Though not extremely probable, these were possibilities, and they had not been thought of before by Groot or his colleagues.
“There’s something in that,” he agreed, “now, Mr. Stryker, don’t get excited, but where were you Tuesday afternoon, the day that Mr. Trowbridge was killed?”
“I know all where I was, but it’s sort o’ confused in my mind. I was to the insurance agent’s; and I was to the doctor’s to be sized up for that same insurance, if I did decide to take it out; and then I dropped in to see my daughter, and her man was so sick I thought his last hour had come, and I ran over for a neighbor, and somehow I was so upset and bothered with one thing and another that the more I try to straighten out in my mind the order of those things, the more mixed up I get. You see, it was my day out, and that always flusters me anyhow. I’m not so young as I was, and the onusualness of getting into street clothes and going out into the world, as it were, makes me all trembly and I can’t remember it afterward, like I can my routine days. And then when I did go home that night, first thing I knew master didn’t come home to dinner! That never had happened before, unless we knew beforehand. Well, then Mis’ Black she ate alone, and Miss Avice, she didn’t eat at all, and there was whisperin’ and goin’s on, and next thing I knew they told me master was dead. After that nothing is clear in my mind. No, sir, everything is a blur and a mist from that time on. That there inquest, now, that’s just like a dream,—a bad dream.”
“Then,” and Groot egged him gently on, “then, about the night you left the Trowbridge house. Why did you do that?”
Stryker looked sly, and put his finger to his lips. “Ah, that night! Well, if you’ll believe me, I heard them talking in the library. You know, sir, I’ve a right anywhere on the two floors. I ain’t like the other servants, I’ve a right,—so as I was a passin’, I overheard Mr. Duane say as how I was the murderer! Me, sir! Me, as loved my master more than I can tell you. Sir, I didn’t know what I was doing then, I just got out. I heard ’em say they had pos’tive proof, and somethin’ about a handkerchief, and I remembered the sight of that handkerchief I’d seen—oh, well, oh, Lord—oh, Lord! I didn’t do it!” The old man’s voice rose to a shriek and Mrs. Adler exclaimed. “There now, you’ve set him off! I knew you would! Now, he’ll have hystrics, and it’ll take me all night to get him ca’med down, and me with Mr. Adler on my hands and him always worse at night——”