The Meredith Mystery

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THE MEREDITH MYSTERY

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[Illustration: “Give me that key!”]

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THE MEREDITH MYSTERY

by

NATALIE SUMNER LINCOLN

Author of “The Cat’s Paw,” “The Unseen Ear,” “The Red Seal,” “I Spy,” “The Moving Finger,” etc.

A. L. Burt Company Publishers New York Published by arrangement with D. Appleton & Company Printed in U. S. A.

Copyright, 1923 By D. Appleton and Company

Copyright, 1922, 1923, by Street and Smith Printed in the United States of America

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TO MARIE LOUGHBOROUGH CHAMBERLAIN

A kind tender heart, and a true loving friend Are God’s best gifts—from beginning to end.

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CONTENTS

I THE TEMPTATION II THE SCENTED HANDKERCHIEF III A QUESTION OF COLOR IV RUFFLES V THE INQUEST VI TESTIMONY VII SUSPICION VIII THE PLEDGE IX TWO PIECES OF STRING X THE SOLITARY INITIAL XI THE HAND ON THE COUNTERPANE XII MURDER XIII PRELIMINARY SKIRMISHING XIV THE DUPLICATE KEY XV AT THE FORK OF THE ROAD XVI A CRY IN THE NIGHT XVII UNDER LOCK AND KEY XVIII THE POLICE WARRANT XIX OUT OF THE MAZE

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THE MEREDITH MYSTERY

CHAPTER I

THE TEMPTATION

Anne Meredith looked at her mother, appalled. “Marry David Curtis!” she exclaimed. “Marry a man I have seen not more than a dozen times. Are you mad?”

“No, but your uncle is,” bitterly. “God knows what has prompted this sudden philanthropy,” hesitating for a word. “This sudden desire to, as he expresses it, ‘square accounts’ with the past by insisting that you marry David Curtis or be disinherited.”

“Disinherited—?”

“Just so”—her mother’s gesture was expressive. “Having brought you up as his heiress, he now demands that you carry out his wishes.”

“And if I refuse—?”

“We are to leave the house at once.”

Anne stared at her mother. “It is too melodramatic for belief,” she said, and laughed a trifle unsteadily. “This is the twentieth century—women are not bought and paid for. I,” with a proud lift of her head, “I can work.”

“And starve—” Mrs. Meredith shrugged her shapely shoulders.

Anne colored hotly at her mother’s tone. “There is always work to be found—honest work,” she contended stubbornly.

“For trained workers,” Mrs. Meredith supplemented.

“I can study stenography—typewriting,” Anne persisted.

“And what are we to live on in the meantime?” with biting irony. “The savings from your allowance?”

Again the carmine dyed Anne’s pale cheeks. “My allowance,” she echoed. “It has kept me in clothes and a little spending money. But you, mother, you had father’s life insurance—”

“My investments have not turned out well,” Mrs. Meredith looked away from her daughter. “Frankly, Anne, I haven’t a penny to my name.”

Anne regarded her blankly. “But your bank account at Riggs’—”