Agatha Webb Read Free Page B

my funeral?"
    The experiment was too painful, and they drew him away. But the
constable's curiosity had been roused, and after they had found
some one to take care of him, he drew Mr. Sutherland aside and
said:
    "What did the old man mean by saying she might have worn silk? Are
they better off than they seem?" Mr. Sutherland closed the door
before replying.
    "They are rich," he declared, to the utter amazement of the other.
"That is, they were; but they may have been robbed; if so,
Philemon was not the wretch who killed her. I have been told that
she kept her money in an old-fashioned cupboard. Do you suppose
they alluded to that one?"
    He pointed to a door set in the wall over the fireplace, and Mr.
Fenton, perceiving a key sticking in the lock, stepped quickly
across the floor and opened it. A row of books met his eyes, but
on taking them down a couple of drawers were seen at the back.
    "Are they locked?" asked Mr. Sutherland.
    "One is and one is not."
    "Open the one that is unlocked."
    Mr. Fenton did so.
    "It is empty," said he.
    Mr. Sutherland cast a look toward the dead woman, and again the
perfect serenity of her countenance struck him.
    "I do not know whether to regard her as the victim of her
husband's imbecility or of some vile robber's cupidity. Can you
find the key to the other drawer?"
    "I will try."
    "Suppose you begin, then, by looking on her person. It should be
in her pocket, if no marauder has been here."
    "It is not in her pocket."
    "Hanging to her neck, then, by a string?"
    "No; there is a locket here, but no key. A very handsome locket,
Mr. Sutherland, with a child's lock of golden hair—"
    "Never mind, we will see that later; it is the key we want just
now."
    "Good heavens!"
    "What is it?"
    "It is in her hand; the one that lies underneath."
    "Ah! A point, Fenton."
    "A great point."
    "Stand by her, Fenton. Don't let anyone rob her of that key till
the coroner comes, and we are at liberty to take it."
    "I will not leave her for an instant."
    "Meanwhile, I will put back these books."
    He had scarcely done so when a fresh arrival occurred. This time
it was one of the village clergymen.

IV - The Full Drawer
*
    This gentleman had some information to give. It seems that at an
early hour of this same night he had gone by this house on his way
home from the bedside of a sick parishioner. As he was passing the
gate he was run into by a man who came rushing out of the yard, in
a state of violent agitation. In this man's hand was something
that glittered, and though the encounter nearly upset them both,
he had not stopped to utter an apology, but stumbled away out of
sight with a hasty but infirm step, which showed he was neither
young nor active. The minister had failed to see his face, but
noticed the ends of a long beard blowing over his shoulder as he
hurried away.
    Philemon was a clean-shaven man.
    Asked if he could give the time of this encounter, he replied that
it was not far from midnight, as he was in his own house by half-
past twelve.
    "Did you glance up at these windows in passing?" asked Mr. Fenton.
    "I must have; for I now remember they were both lighted."
    "Were the shades up?"
    "I think not. I would have noticed it if they had been."
    "How were the shades when you broke into the house this morning?"
inquired Mr. Sutherland of the constable.
    "Just as they are now; we have moved nothing. The shades were both
down—one of them over an open window."
    "Well, we may find this encounter of yours with this unknown man a
matter of vital importance, Mr. Crane."
    "I wish I had seen his face."
    "What do you think the object was you saw glittering in his hand?"
    "I should not like to say; I saw it but an instant."
    "Could it have been a knife or an old-fashioned dagger?"
    "It might have been."
    "Alas! poor Agatha! That she, who so despised money, should fall a
victim to man's cupidity! Unhappy life, unhappy death! Fenton, I
shall always mourn for Agatha Webb."
    "Yet she seems to have found peace at last,"