“He fell in love with you! Oh, Avice, you heartbreaker! Who doesn’t adore you! Look out for this Stone!”
“Oh, he’s married. Almost a bridegroom, in fact. Most romantic affair, I believe. But you know, Kane, if you are freed by Leslie’s efforts, I’ve promised—”
“You’ve promised me, my girl,” and Landon’s voice rang out exultantly, “promised me all your love and faith and trust, now and forever. Do you suppose for a minute, that Leslie Hoyt can take you from me? Never!”
But Avice only shook her head sadly. Kane was young and impetuous and hopeful. But Judge Hoyt was older and more experienced, and if he said Kane could be freed only by his efforts, Avice strongly believed it was so.
Avice went away, and it was not much later when Fleming Stone was admitted to an interview with Kane Landon. Still posing as Mr. Green, an old friend of the prisoner, admittance was granted him under the regular rules for visitors. But a disclosure of his real identity to the authorities secured for him a private session and, wasting no time, the detective began to talk earnestly of the murder and the impending trial.
Kane at first showed a spirit of truculence and answered curtly the remarks of his visitor. But seeing at once that Stone presupposed his innocence, Landon became friendly, and talked and listened with eagerness.
“My uncle and I wrote occasionally,” Kane said, “and his letters had been most friendly of late, and he had urged me to come back East to live. I was ready to do so, as soon as I had enough money to marry and settle down. Then the chance for a splendid mining investment turned up, and I lit out for New York, feeling sure I could put it to Uncle Rowland in such a way that he would give or lend me the money necessary. But he wouldn’t, and he was so harsh and unjust that I decided to wait a day or two before going to his house. So I went to Lindsay’s, an old chum of mine, and, as he was going away for a few days he lent me his diggings. But you know all this. Let us get to the things to be discussed.”
“To my mind,” said Stone, “the main clue is that handkerchief. Without a doubt it is Stryker’s, but Stryker never left it there. It is a plan to incriminate the old man. I’m sure of that. Now, who did it?”
“I can’t agree with you about that, entirely. It seems to me, that that handkerchief was in my uncle’s pocket when he was killed, and was used by the murderer and left there. I know my uncle’s careless habits, of old, and he was quite as likely to have the butler’s handkerchief in his pocket as his own. When I lived with him, he wore my cap or picked up my gloves quite unconsciously. It wasn’t exactly absentmindedness, but extreme carelessness in such matters. Why, I remember his going to church once, and at prayer time he shook out a clean, folded handkerchief from his pocket, and it was one of Avice’s! I drew her attention to it, and we both snickered right out in meeting. No, Mr. Stone, that handkerchief is Stryker’s, of course, but it’s no clue.”
“I didn’t know of this carelessness of Mr. Trowbridge; it does put a different light on the matter. Well, then, there’s the pencil picked up at the scene of the crime. The police have paid little, if any, attention to that, and it seems to me important. You don’t know, I suppose, as to the pencils your uncle used?”