Mrs. Bates gave a little cry, and shuddered, but Lockwood went unmovably on.
“There were other books about, some open, some closed, but Martial was nearest his hand—quite as if he were reading up to the last moment.”
“When the murderer came!” Mrs. Bates breathed softly, her eyes wide with horror.
“It couldn’t have been murder,” Lockwood said, in a positive way, “you see, Mrs. Bates, it just couldn’t have been. That Morton detective is trying to trump up a way the assassin could have entered that locked room—but he can’t find any way. I know he can’t. So it must have been suicide. Much as we dislike to admit it, it is the only possible theory.”
“But they say there was robbery,” Mrs. Peyton put in. “The ruby pin is gone and the money from the drawer.”
“But, perhaps,” Gordon said, “they were taken by a robber who did not also murder his victim. Nogi, now—”
“Of course!” cried Helen Peyton, quickly; “I see it! I never could abide Nogi, with his stealthy ways. He stole the things, and then he ran away, and later, Doctor Waring killed himself!”
“Because of the robbery!” exclaimed Emily Bates.
“Oh, no!” Lockwood returned. “Certainly not for that. Indeed, the motive is the greatest mystery of all. We could perhaps imagine a motive for murder—whether it was robbery, or some brute of ‘the other faction’ or some old enemy of whom we know nothing. But for suicide, though I am sure it was that, I can think of no motive whatever.”
“Nor I,” said Mrs. Bates. “I knew him better than any of you, and I know—I know for a certainty, that he was a happy man. That he looked forward eagerly to his marriage with me, that he was happy in the thought of his Presidency—that he hadn’t a real trouble in the world.”