“What has happened?” struggled through her ashen lips.
“I don’t know if you know Mrs. Atkins,” he went on, more glibly; “she’s a young bride, who has an apartment at the Rosemere.”
She shook her head impatiently.
“Well, this lady has disappeared,” he went on, lowering his voice; “and we very much fear that she has fled because she knew more about that murder than she should have done.”
Miss Derwent tottered, and steadied herself against a table, but Mr. Merritt, with surprising denseness, failed to notice her agitation, and continued:
“It’s very sad for her husband. Such a fine young fellow, and only married since May! He has been driven almost crazy by her flight. Of course, it’s difficult to pity a murderess, and yet, when I think of that poor young thing forced to fly from her home in the middle of the night, I can’t help feeling sorry for her. Luckily, she has heart disease, so that the agitation of being hunted from one place to another will probably soon kill her. That would be the happiest solution for all concerned.”
The sunshades having been brought, Mrs. Derwent, after glancing several times impatiently at her daughter, at last moved towards her, but the latter motioned her back.
“Excuse me, Mamma, but I must say a few more words to this gentleman. I should like to know some more about Mrs. Atkins,” she continued, turning again to the detective. “What made her think she was suspected?”
“Well, you see, the dead man was a friend of hers, and had been calling on her the very evening he was murdered. The fellow’s name was Allan Brown, and we have discovered that a good many years ago he was credited with being one of her admirers. I guess that’s true, too; but he was a worthless chap, and she no doubt turned him down. At all events, he disappeared from Chicago, and we doubt if she has seen him since. Our theory is, that when he found out that she was rich, and married, he tried to blackmail her. We know that he was drunk at the time of his death, and so we think that, in a fit of desperation, she killed him. It was a dreadful thing to do. I don’t say it wasn’t, but if you had seen her—so small, so ill, so worn by anxiety and remorse—I don’t think you could help wishing she might escape paying the full penalty of her crime.”
“I do hope so. What is her name, did you say?”