The Red Seal [41]
she corrected, and a sigh accompanied the words. "Have the police any clew to the guilty man?"
"I don't know, I'm sure," Kent spoke with caution.
"You don't?" Her voice was a little sharp. "Didn't Detective Ferguson give you any news when talking to you on the porch?"
"So you recognized the detective?"
"I? No; I have never seen him before" - she nodded gayly to an acquaintance passing through the hall. "Colonel McIntyre told me his name. It was so odd to meet a man here not in evening clothes that I had to ask who he was."
"Ferguson came to bring me some papers about a personal matter," explained Kent. He turned so as to face her. "Did you see a white envelope lying on the table when you walked out on the porch?"
She bowed her head absently, her foot keeping time to the inspiring music played by the orchestra stationed on the stair landing just above where they sat. "You left it lying on the table."
"Yes, so I did," replied Kent. "And I believe I was so ungallant as to bolt into the dining room in front of you. Please accept my apologies." Behind her fan, which she used with languid grace, the widow watched him.
"We all bolted together," she responded, "and are equally guilty -"
"Of what?" questioned a voice from the background, and looking up Kent saw Colonel McIntyre standing on the step above Mrs. Brewster. The music had ceased and in the lull their conversation had been distinctly audible.
"Guilty of curiosity," finished the widow.
"Colonel de Geofroy's farewell speech was very amusing, did you not think so?"
"I did not stay to hear it," Kent confessed. "I had to return to the porch and get my envelope."
"You were a long time about it," commented McIntyre, sitting down by Mrs. Brewster and possessing himself of her fan. "I waited to tell you that Helen and Barbara were worn out after the inquest and so stayed at home to-night, but you didn't show up."
"Neither did the envelope," retorted Kent, and as his companions looked at him, he added. "It had disappeared off the table."
"Probably blew away," suggested McIntyre. "I noticed a strong current of air from the dining room, and two of the windows inclosing the porch were open.
"That's hardly possible," Kent replied skeptically. "The envelope weighed at least two ounces; it would have taken quite a gale to budge it."
McIntyre turned red. "Are you insinuating that one of us walked off with your envelope, Kent?" he demanded angrily. Mrs. Brewster stayed him as he was about to rise.
"Did you not say that Detective Ferguson brought you the envelope, Mr. Kent?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Then what more likely than that he carried it off again?" She smiled amusedly as Kent's expression altered. "Why not ask the detective?"
Her suggestion held a grain of truth. Suppose Ferguson had not believed his statement that the papers in the envelope were his personal property and had taken the envelope away to examine it at his leisure? The thought brought Kent to his feet.
"Good night, Mrs. Sherlock Holmes," he said jestingly, "I'll follow your advice - There was no opportunity to say more, for several men had discovered the widow's perch on the stairs and came to claim their dances. Over their heads McIntyre watched Kent stride downstairs, then stooping over he picked up Mrs. Brewster's fan and sat down to patiently await her return.
Kent's pursuit of the detective took longer than he had anticipated, and it was after midnight before he finally located him at the office of the Chief of Detectives in the District Building. "I've called for the envelope you took from my safe early this evening," he began without preface, hardly waiting for the latter's surprised greeting.
"Why, Mr. Kent, I left it lying on the porch table at the club," declared Ferguson. "Didn't you take it?"
"No." Kent's worried expression returned. "Like a fool I forgot the envelope when that cheering broke out in the dining room and rushed to find out what it was about; when I returned to the porch the envelope was gone.
"I don't know, I'm sure," Kent spoke with caution.
"You don't?" Her voice was a little sharp. "Didn't Detective Ferguson give you any news when talking to you on the porch?"
"So you recognized the detective?"
"I? No; I have never seen him before" - she nodded gayly to an acquaintance passing through the hall. "Colonel McIntyre told me his name. It was so odd to meet a man here not in evening clothes that I had to ask who he was."
"Ferguson came to bring me some papers about a personal matter," explained Kent. He turned so as to face her. "Did you see a white envelope lying on the table when you walked out on the porch?"
She bowed her head absently, her foot keeping time to the inspiring music played by the orchestra stationed on the stair landing just above where they sat. "You left it lying on the table."
"Yes, so I did," replied Kent. "And I believe I was so ungallant as to bolt into the dining room in front of you. Please accept my apologies." Behind her fan, which she used with languid grace, the widow watched him.
"We all bolted together," she responded, "and are equally guilty -"
"Of what?" questioned a voice from the background, and looking up Kent saw Colonel McIntyre standing on the step above Mrs. Brewster. The music had ceased and in the lull their conversation had been distinctly audible.
"Guilty of curiosity," finished the widow.
"Colonel de Geofroy's farewell speech was very amusing, did you not think so?"
"I did not stay to hear it," Kent confessed. "I had to return to the porch and get my envelope."
"You were a long time about it," commented McIntyre, sitting down by Mrs. Brewster and possessing himself of her fan. "I waited to tell you that Helen and Barbara were worn out after the inquest and so stayed at home to-night, but you didn't show up."
"Neither did the envelope," retorted Kent, and as his companions looked at him, he added. "It had disappeared off the table."
"Probably blew away," suggested McIntyre. "I noticed a strong current of air from the dining room, and two of the windows inclosing the porch were open.
"That's hardly possible," Kent replied skeptically. "The envelope weighed at least two ounces; it would have taken quite a gale to budge it."
McIntyre turned red. "Are you insinuating that one of us walked off with your envelope, Kent?" he demanded angrily. Mrs. Brewster stayed him as he was about to rise.
"Did you not say that Detective Ferguson brought you the envelope, Mr. Kent?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Then what more likely than that he carried it off again?" She smiled amusedly as Kent's expression altered. "Why not ask the detective?"
Her suggestion held a grain of truth. Suppose Ferguson had not believed his statement that the papers in the envelope were his personal property and had taken the envelope away to examine it at his leisure? The thought brought Kent to his feet.
"Good night, Mrs. Sherlock Holmes," he said jestingly, "I'll follow your advice - There was no opportunity to say more, for several men had discovered the widow's perch on the stairs and came to claim their dances. Over their heads McIntyre watched Kent stride downstairs, then stooping over he picked up Mrs. Brewster's fan and sat down to patiently await her return.
Kent's pursuit of the detective took longer than he had anticipated, and it was after midnight before he finally located him at the office of the Chief of Detectives in the District Building. "I've called for the envelope you took from my safe early this evening," he began without preface, hardly waiting for the latter's surprised greeting.
"Why, Mr. Kent, I left it lying on the porch table at the club," declared Ferguson. "Didn't you take it?"
"No." Kent's worried expression returned. "Like a fool I forgot the envelope when that cheering broke out in the dining room and rushed to find out what it was about; when I returned to the porch the envelope was gone.