I snatched it from him and ripped it open, hoping against hope that at last a clue had turned up.
"New York, May 25.
"Post-Dispatch wants correspondent on spot.
If you have any facts to give out, save them for me.
Arrive Lambert Junction three-fifty.
"Terence K.
Patten."
Under the terrible strain of the past six days I had completely forgotten Terry's existence and now the memory of his cool impertinence came back to me with a rush.
For the first moment I felt too angry to think; I had not credited even his presumption with anything like this.
His interference in the Patterson-Pratt business was bad enough, but he might have realized that this was a personal matter.
He was calmly proposing to turn this horrible tragedy into a story for the Sunday papers—and that to a member of the murdered man's own family.
Hot with indignation, I tore the telegram into shreds and stalked into the house.
I paced up and down the hall for fifteen minutes, planning what I should say to him when he arrived; and then, as I calmed down, I commenced to see the thing in its true light.
The whole account of the crime to the minutest detail, had already appeared in every newspaper in the country, together with the most outrageous stories of Radnor's past career.
At least nothing could be worse than what had already been said.
And after all, was not the truth—any truth—better than these vague suspicions, this terrible suspense?
Terry could find the truth if any man on earth could do it.
He had, I knew, unraveled other tangles as mysterious as this.
He was used to this sort of work, and bringing to the matter a fresh mind, would see light where it was only darkness to me.
I had been under such a terrific strain for so long and had borne so much responsibility, that the very thought of having someone with whom I could share it gave me new strength.
My feeling toward him veered suddenly from indignation to gratitude.
His irrepressible confidence in himself inspired me with a like confidence, and I wondered what I had been thinking of that I had not sent for him at once.
To my jaded mind his promised arrival appeared better than a clue—it was almost equal to a solution.
CHAPTER XVI TERRY COMES
The moment I caught sight of Terry as he swung off the train I felt involuntarily that my troubles were near their end.
His sharp, eager face with its firm jaw and quick eye inspired one with the feeling that he could find the bottom of any mystery.
It was with a deep breath of relief that I held out my hand.
"Hello, old man!
How are you?" he exclaimed with a smile of cordiality as he grasped it.
And then recalling the gravity of the situation, he with some difficulty pulled a sober face. "I'm sorry that we meet again under such sad circumstances," he added perfunctorily. "I suppose you think I've meddled enough in your affairs already; and on my word, I intended to stay out of this.
But of course I've been watching it in the papers; partly because it was interesting and partly because I knew you.
It struck me yesterday afternoon as I was thinking things over that you weren't making much headway and might like a little help; so I induced the Post-Dispatch to send down their best man.
I hope I shall get at the truth." He paused a moment and looked at me sharply. "Do you want me to stay?
I will go back if you'd rather have me."
I was instantly ashamed of my distrust of the afternoon.
Whatever might be Terry's failings, I could not doubt, as I looked into his face, that his Irish heart was in the right place.
"I am not afraid of the truth," I returned steadily. "If you can discover it, for Heaven's sake do so!"
"That's what I'm paid for," said Terry.
"The Post-Dispatch doesn't deal in fiction any more than it can help."
As we climbed into the carriage he added briskly,
"It's a horrible affair!
The details as I have them from the papers are not full enough, but you can tell them to me as we drive along."
I should have laughed had I been feeling less anxious.
His greeting was so entirely characteristic in the way he shuffled through the necessary condolences and jumped, with such evident relish, to the gruesome details.
As I gathered up the reins and backed away from the hitching-post, Terry broke out with:
"Here, hold on a minute.
Where are you going?"
"Back to Four-Pools," I said in some surprise. "I thought you'd want to unpack your things and get settled."
"Haven't much time to get settled," he laughed. "I have an engagement in New York the day after to-morrow.
How about the cave?