And there, feeling for her pulse, and then hurrying for some water, while he looked for some one — a son, daughter, neighbor, any one. But not seeing any one, hurrying back with the water to dash a little of it on her face and hands.
“Is there a doctor anywhere near here?” He was addressing Titus, who was now kneeling by his wife.
“In Biltz — yes — Dr. Crane.”
“Have you — has any one around here a telephone?”
“Mr. Wilcox.”
He pointed in the direction of the Wilcox’s, whose telephone Roberta had so recently used.
“Just watch her.
I’ll be back.”
Forthwith he was out of the house and away to call Crane or any other doctor, and then as swiftly returning with Mrs. Wilcox and her daughter.
And then waiting, waiting, until first neighbors arrived and then eventually Dr. Crane, with whom he consulted as to the advisability of discussing with Mrs. Alden yet this day the unescapable mystery which had brought him here.
And Dr. Crane, very much impressed by Mr. Mason’s solemn, legal manner, admitting that it might even be best.
And at last Mrs. Alden treated with heroin and crooned and mourned over by all present, being brought to the stage where it was possible, slowly and with much encouragement, to hear in the first place what the extenuating circumstances were; next being questioned concerning the identity of the cryptic individual referred to in Roberta’s letter.
The only person whom Mrs. Alden could recall as ever having been mentioned by Roberta as paying particular attention to her, and that but once the Christmas before, was Clyde Griffiths, the nephew of the wealthy Samuel Griffiths, of Lycurgus, and the manager of the department in which Roberta worked.
But this in itself, as Mason and the Aldens themselves at once felt, was something which assuredly could not be taken to mean that the nephew of so great a man could be accused of the murder of Roberta.
Wealth!
Position!
Indeed, in the face of such an accusation Mason was inclined to pause and consider.
For the social difference between this man and this girl from his point of view seemed great.
At that, it might be so.
Why not?
Was it not likely that a youth of such a secure position would possibly more than another, since she was so attractive as Heit had said, be the one to be paying casual and secret attention to a girl like Roberta?
Did she not work in his uncle’s factory? And was she not poor?
Besides, as Fred Heit had already explained, whoever it was that this girl was with at the time of her death, she had not hesitated to cohabit with him before marriage.
And was that not part and parcel of a rich and sophisticated youth’s attitude toward a poor girl?
By reason of his own early buffetings at the mood of chance and established prosperity the idea appealed to him intensely.
The wretched rich!
The indifferent rich!
And here were her mother and father obviously believing most firmly in her innocence and virtue.
Further questioning of Mrs. Alden only brought out the fact that she had never seen this particular youth, and had never even heard of any other.
The only additional data that either she or her husband could furnish was that during her last home-coming of a month Roberta had not been feeling at all well — drooped about the house and rested a good deal.
Also that she had written a number of letters which she had given to the postman or placed in the delivery box at the road-crossing below.
Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Alden knew to whom they were addressed, although the postman would be likely to know, as Mason quickly thought.
Also, during this period, she had been busy making some dresses, at least four.
And during the latter part of her stay, she had been the recipient of a number of telephone calls — from a certain Mr. Baker, as Titus had heard Mr. Wilcox say.
Also, on departing, she had taken only such baggage as she had brought with her — her small trunk and her bag.
The trunk she had checked herself at the station, but just where, other than Lycurgus, Titus could not say.
But now, suddenly, since he was attaching considerable importance to the name Baker, there popped into Mason’s mind:
“Clifford Golden! Carl Graham! Clyde Griffiths!” and at once the identity of the intitials as well as the related euphony of the names gave him pause.
An astounding coincidence truly, if this same Clyde Griffiths had nothing to do with this crime!
Immediately he was anxious to go direct to the mailman and question him.
But since Titus Alden was important not only as a witness in identifying Roberta’s body and the contents of the suitcase left by her at Gun Lodge but also to persuade the postman to talk freely, he now asked him to dress and accompany him, assuring him that he would allow him to return to-morrow.
After cautioning Mrs. Alden to talk to no one in regard to this, he now proceeded to the post office to question the mailman.
That individual when found, recalled, upon inquiry, and in the presence of Titus who stood like a galvanized corpse by the side of the district attorney, that not only had there been a few letters — no less than twelve or fifteen even — handed him by Roberta, during her recent stay here, but that all of them had been addressed to some one in Lycurgus by the name of — let him see — Clyde Griffiths — no less — care of General Delivery there.
Forthwith, the district attorney proceeded with him to a local notary’s office where a deposition was made, after which he called his office, and learning that Roberta’s body had been brought to Bridgeburg, he drove there with as much speed as he could attain.
And once there and in the presence of the body along with Titus, Burton Burleigh, Heit and Earl Newcomb, he was able to decide for himself, even while Titus, half demented, gazed upon the features of his child, first that she truly was Roberta Alden and next as to whether he considered her of the type who would wantonly yield herself to such a liaison as the registration at Grass Lake seemed to indicate.
He decided he did not.
This was a case of sly, evil seduction as well as murder.
Oh, the scoundrel!
And still at large.
Almost the political value of all this was obscured by an angry social resentfulness against men of means in general.