The way to a solution unquestionably led through Lucy and Mary Sturtevant, if there were anything at all to Humphrey's idea. Green pointed at the girl. Forrester's inclinations led him to the negress, and the odd working out of the triangle theory seemed to confirm him in his impressions. Forrester decided to investigate Lucy at once. His reference to the police had amused instead of angered her. She had pithily expressed her disdain of them. Was it not possible that these feelings arose from a sense of victory? In searching her house, the police had failed to find something that she knew was there! Whatever it was, Forrester intended to locate it, and use his information for what it might be worth.
Forrester took an electric pocket lamp from the top of his chiffonier, and a dark muffler from a drawer. These he placed in his pocket. Then he selected a cap of an unobtrusive shade and went down to the laundry. There he cut off a short length of clothesline, wound it around his body and buttoned up his coat.
Unlocking the laundry door, which opened at the southern end of the house, Forrester looked carefully around. He could hear William whistling at his work in the garage, while above him his sister was playing the piano in the music room. No other sound reached him and no one was in sight. Forrester closed the laundry door softly and stole across the lawn to the road.
[CHAPTER XIX—FACE TO FACE]
It was bright moonlight when Forrester left the house and walked south on Sheridan Road. He had decided to walk to Lucy's, believing that he would attract less attention, both on the way and after reaching his destination, than if he used his roadster. Though wayside trees cast great shadows across the road, and the gloom near bordering hedgerows, or the underbrush of vacant tracts, afforded partial concealment, Forrester looked with apprehension upon the brilliancy of the night. Fortunately for his plans, large clouds began shortly to drift over the moon. The gloom was more intense during these moments of darkness because of the transition from periods of strong moonlight.
The night was unusually still, undoubtedly because of an approaching storm, and few people seemed to be abroad. Only two motor cars passed him during the journey between his home and Jasper lane. One of these passed at a time when the moon was shining brightly and Forrester was sure that it was Melville's limousine. At the moment, he was walking in the deep shadow of a high hedge and was probably invisible to the occupants of the car. It was a providential circumstance, for to be stopped and questioned at this time would not only cause delay, but might attract undesirable attention.
Reaching Jasper lane, Forrester kept to the grass at the side, and walking slowly, succeeded in approaching the oak tree without any sound that would be audible to others than himself. He paused, listening long and intently. The silence seemed almost palpable, its noiseless fingers clutching at him from the darkness. A momentary flash of the moon gave him his bearings. During the succeeding darkness, Forrester, stooping low, carefully felt his way past the tree and down the path toward Lucy's cottage. Unless the colored woman had secured another dog, Forrester was sure that he could reach her door unnoticed. It was then his purpose to tie her fast and either frighten her into some helpful admission or else discover for himself some clue possibly overlooked by the police.
The cottage stood dark and silent in its little clearing. Forrester reached it without hearing a sound, but he had a momentary feeling of uneasiness when the moon shone full upon him as he crossed the clearing. At the door he paused to consider. Was the woman away? Or had she retired for the night? If the latter, then he would probably be able to surprise her while she slept. Forrester placed his hand on the doorknob and turned it slowly and quietly. Then he exerted a gentle pressure, and was gratified, though astonished, to find that the door opened. Fearful of squeaking hinges Forrester moved the door inward an inch at a time, and entering, closed it in the same careful way. There was no key in the lock, but running his hand along the edge of the door, Forrester discovered a bolt which he softly pushed into place.
Forrester took out the muffler and wound it about his neck and face until only his eyes were exposed. Then he pulled his cap down so that its vizor shadowed even these. With intermittent and cautious flashes of his pocket lamp he found that the room was unoccupied and the door leading to what he believed to be Lucy's bedroom closed. This he approached with wary tread and opened the door slowly and softly. A flash of his light showed that the bedroom was also deserted. Lucy was not at home! It was a wonderful opportunity that might be interrupted at any moment, so Forrester worked fast. He considered it immaterial what the woman might discover after he was gone. Any disorder she would probably attribute to another visit by the police.