chapter xix

detained on suspicion

inspector fay left the house of the lady in pink with a satisfied expression on his face. at the corner of the street he hailed a taxi, and drove to scotland yard.

under the watchful eyes of his escort, james layton awaited him. the millionaire was perfectly composed, and appeared to be under no apprehension as to the outcome of his visit. he accompanied the inspector to a private room, and sat down in a comfortable chair without the smallest sign of alarm.

"mr. james layton?" the inspector began, seating himself at a table.

"yes."

"mr. layton, i am inspector fay—in charge of the investigations of the death of miss christine manderson, at richmond, on tuesday night. i want you to be good enough to [pg 160]answer the questions i have to ask you as clearly as possible."

"certainly," the young man replied, unhesitatingly.

"to begin with—did you go to richmond on that night?"

"i did."

"were you alone?"

"i was."

"did you call at mr. copplestone's house at half-past eight?"

"yes."

"you asked to see mr. copplestone?"

"yes."

"and he refused to see you?"

"he did."

"what was your object in calling on him, in that manner, at such an inconvenient time?"

"i had just ascertained that miss manderson had, or was about to, become engaged to marry him. my object was to tell him that he was not a fit person to be her husband, and that i would prevent the marriage at all costs."

"that you would prevent the marriage?"

[pg 161]"yes."

"because, in your opinion, he was unworthy of her?"

"totally."

"had you any right to take upon yourself the control of miss manderson's choice of a husband?"

"no right, perhaps—as you use the term."

"as any one would use it?"

"to my mind, yes."

"to your mind you had a right to interfere in that engagement?"

"yes."

"we will come back to that presently," the inspector proceeded. "what did you do when mr. copplestone refused to see you?"

"i am afraid my excitement got the better of me. i forced my way past the servant, and went into a room from which i heard voices, thinking that he was there with her."

"you knew, then, that she was in the house at the time?"

"yes. i had previously telephoned to her hotel, and her maid had told me that she was [pg 162]spending the evening at copplestone's house."

"i am told you burst into the room uttering her name."

"possibly."

"but you found only some guests of mr. copplestone's, who had been invited to dinner?"

"yes."

"was there anything strange about the room?"

"it was decorated in an extraordinary manner."

"i think you made some remark about the decorations?"

"perhaps i did. i had been told something of mr. copplestone's eccentricities, and i inferred that the engagement was an accomplished fact, and that the decorations had been put up in celebration of it."

"do you remember saying anything else in the room?"

"i said that rather than allow miss manderson to be engaged to george copplestone, i would tear her to pieces with my own hands."

"and utterly destroy her?"

[pg 163]"yes."

"a somewhat violent announcement," the inspector observed.

"i am afraid it was."

"you were in a state of great excitement, were you not?"

"i was very excited."

"almost beside yourself?"

"i cannot say that."

"were you responsible for your words and actions at the time?"

"perfectly."

"you really meant what you said?"

"i meant what i said," the young man declared calmly.

the inspector was writing rapidly.

"you were then requested to leave the house, and i think you left quite quietly?"

"yes."

"what did you do then?"

"i climbed over the wall into the garden and waited for an opportunity to get into the house again and speak to copplestone or miss manderson."

"you were behaving rather strangely, were [pg 164]you not, mr. layton?" the inspector asked.

"i suppose i was."

"if you had heard of any one else acting in the same way, you would have thought that he could hardly have been in a normal state of mind?"

"i expect i should."

"yet you say you were quite yourself?"

"i was quite myself."

"and prepared to carry out your threat?"

"i do not know what i was prepared to do. i did not carry it out."

"later on, one of the guests, mr. bolsover, found you creeping round the house towards an open window?"

"yes."

"before he ran after you, do you remember hearing him call to mr. copplestone?"

"yes, he did."

"was there any answer?"

"i did not hear one."

"mr. bolsover then followed you out in the direction in which the crime was committed?"

"i do not know where the crime was committed," [pg 165]layton replied firmly. "i know nothing of the crime."

"whoever committed it managed to fulfill your own threat fairly fully."

"unfortunately, yes."

"have you any suggestion to make as to who that person may have been?"

"no."

"what, then, did you do when mr. bolsover ran after you?"

"i eluded him in the darkness, climbed over the wall again, and went away."

"without having fulfilled your object?"

"yes."

"had you seen anything at all of miss manderson, or mr. copplestone?"

"nothing."

there was a pause. james layton waited quietly while the inspector finished off his notes. his face was a trifle paler than before, but he betrayed no sign of agitation.

"now," resumed the inspector, "let us go back. you said that to your mind you had a right to interfere in miss manderson's engagement?"

[pg 166]"i did."

"what had given you that right?"

"i am sorry," the young man returned courteously—"but i decline to answer that question."

"when and where did you first meet her?"

"i cannot tell you."

"you would be wiser to do so."

"possibly."

the inspector's face darkened.

"mr. layton," he said, with unmistakable emphasis, "you had better not decline to answer any question. i must warn you that your position may become extremely serious."

"i am afraid," layton remarked quietly, "that you have already made up your mind that i am guilty of the crime."

"that is as it may be," replied the inspector. "i am advising you for your own good. to refuse to answer questions is not the way to allay suspicion—but to increase it."

"i realize that," the young man said. "but i still refuse."

inspector fay leant back in his chair patiently.

[pg 167]"come, mr. layton, you will only put us to the trouble and delay of proving what you might as well tell us at once. and it will do you no good."

"i should be sorry to cause you any additional trouble," layton replied. "but i have my reasons."

"let me help you," continued the inspector. "i have had inquiries made at miss manderson's hotel, at the theater at which she was to have appeared, of her maid, and various other sources. we have got her time pretty well accounted for. it seems that you have not seen her at all since she arrived in this country two months ago. is that so?"

there was no answer.

"anyway, if you did see her once or twice, there were certainly no opportunities for anything to develop between you to account for your behavior, or justify to the right to which you considered yourself entitled. you must have known her before."

layton was still silent. the inspector continued easily.

"i am wondering whether a cable across the [pg 168]atlantic would bring me a description of a certain michael cranbourne, once well known in the united states—particularly in chicago—son of a multi-millionaire."

james layton stiffened in his chair. he had become white and tense.

"a large part in the career of michael cranbourne was played by an adventuress named thea colville—said, at one time, to have been the most beautiful woman in america—and known later, on the stage in new york, as christine manderson."

the young man rose. on his face there was a wonderful new dignity and calm—a relief, as if some heavy burden had dropped from him and left him free.

"yes," he said quietly, "i am michael cranbourne. i might have admitted it at first. what do you want now?"

"the whole story," the inspector replied, motioning him back to his chair.

"i will tell you," he said.

he sat down again. a great contentment seemed to rest upon him, as on one who reaches [pg 169]the end of a difficult and tiring journey. there was a long pause.

"i first met thea colville," he began, at last, "in chicago, when i was twenty-five—seven years ago. she was twenty. it would be no use attempting to give you an idea of what she was like. you never saw her alive. no description could convey an impression of her beauty—of her awful fascination. from the moment i first saw her there was no other woman in my world. i was engaged to be married, but i put an end to it. people said i behaved badly, but i didn't care. i couldn't look at, or think of, another woman after i had seen her. she enslaved me. i was hers, body and soul. she held me helpless. i was only one of many, but i was a favored one—at least, i thought so."

he told his story slowly, in a low voice, without emotion. he was staring out straight in front of him, forgetful of his surroundings and his listener. the past held him.

"my family warned me, and threatened me. i knew they were telling me the truth—but i [pg 170]wouldn't listen. i hadn't been brought up to care what results my actions brought on other people. i thought only of myself—of the indulgence of my own desires. i lived a useless, contemptible life—entirely without scruples or restraints. there was scarcely a vice that i was not steeped in—hardly a sin that i had not explored. i had enough money to gratify all my senses. nothing was beneath me. i plunged into every depravity. i made new depths for myself." he clenched his hands. "and i led others after me."

there was another pause. he sat rigid. the inspector waited patiently.

"i need not trouble you with unnecessary details," the low voice went on. "it is enough that for her sake i sacrificed all my prospects—i threw away my heritage. to keep her for myself i squandered every cent i could lay my hands on. i robbed my own brother. i forged my father's name. i did ... other things. it was only the generosity of my family that kept me from gaol. and thea threw me over."

"apparently," the inspector remarked, not [pg 171]unsympathetically, "her standard of morality was on a somewhat similar level."

"she is dead," said the young man gently. "'de mortuis nil nisi bonum.'"

the inspector shrugged his shoulders.

"as you please," he said. "go on."

"she refused to see me—to have anything more to do with me. she cut me out of her life with one stroke. for the first time i knew she hadn't cared. that broke me. i was very ill. for a year i knew no one. i couldn't hear or speak. they fed me like a child. they thought i was mad"—his eyes began to gleam unnaturally, his words quickened—"but in reality i was in the presence of god. i was in the image i had brought upon my soul—black, hideous, distorted, reeking with the filth of my sins. i saw myself—in all the degradation i had brought upon the shape of god. i saw my own page in the book of life. all the entries were on the debit side. the credit side was bare. i waited for damnation—but there is no damnation. there is only building. i went out from the presence of god—a builder."

[pg 172]his face was transformed. his voice rang with triumph—with the pride of victory.

"i came to myself. it was like waking from the dead. it was a long time before i recovered even a little of my strength. every hand was against me—except my mother's. she stood by me. when she died, a year later, i inherited the whole of her fortune. the others tried to take it away from me, but i fought them. i had new uses for the money. i came over to this country, and began my work. for four years i have given myself and all i have. go and see for yourself what i have done. go and see the men, women, and children who would die for me. go and hear them bless my name. hear of the lives i have built—the light i have brought. i have filled up my credit side. i have a balance in hand in the book of life."

inspector fay remained silent. he was a severely practical man. before his mind there was only the outcome of the interview. the young man controlled himself with an effort. his excitement passed. he was again quiet and composed.

[pg 173]"none of my old passions or inclinations remained—except my love for thea. i couldn't crush it. i fought against it with all my strength. i struggled to stamp it out, but it was unconquerable. her face was always in front of me, day and night. her voice was always in my ears. i couldn't escape. i heard nothing more of her until about six weeks ago, when i saw a photograph of her in one of the papers under the name of christine manderson, with a statement that she had arrived in london to play at the imperial theater. the longing to see her again was too strong for me. day after day i waited outside the stage-door of the theater—until she came, in all her fatal, maddening beauty. we stood facing each other ... and she passed me by without a word."

his voice broke. he pressed his thin hands together.

"the madness came over me again. the sight of her fanned all the old flames. i was on fire. i tried to follow her, but they kept me out. i wrote to her that night, telling her what i had done, how i had suffered, and begging, [pg 174]imploring her to let me see her. the answer was a curt note, in the third person, saying that she declined to receive any communication from me whatsoever."

again he paused. the inspector made no comment.

"i found out where she was staying, what her plans were, and who were her friends. i discovered that she had come under the influence of george copplestone, who is little better than i was once. the thought that she was to be the sport of his depravity drove me to frenzy. i neglected my work. i could do nothing. then i heard that they were on the point of becoming engaged. the rest you know. i followed her to copplestone's house. she had evidently warned him against me. i forced my way into the room, calling her by the name of christine——"

"why?" the inspector asked

"because it was obvious that she would not wish the name of thea colville to be known to london. that is all i have to tell you."

the inspector rose.

"mr. cranbourne," he said formally, "after [pg 175]hearing your story, i am afraid i have no option but to detain you on suspicion of having caused the death of christine manderson, otherwise thea colville, and to warn you that anything you say may be used in evidence against you."

the young man heard him without a tremor.

"i did not kill her," he said firmly. "god's will be done."