# Unseen Hands/Chapter 23
### CHAPTER XXIII
#### THE TRAP

ODELL did not pause until he reached the first floor once more; then entering the library he locked the door and sank into a chair before the stand upon which stood the telephone. The shock of his discovery, overwhelming in its utter unexpectedness, made his brain reel; and he could almost doubt the evidence of his own eyes in the first moment of stupefaction.
Then a host of small incidents crowded in confirmation to his mind. They had seemed trivial and irrelevant when they occurred; but in the light of the revelation which had just come to him he could have cursed himself for his blindness. He had looked only for the obvious, it was true; yet the solution of the problem had been so obvious from the very first that he had failed to attach any significance to it.
Yet even now his work was not done. The thought brought him tor his feet and set him to pacing the floor as if bodily action was necessary to relieve his teeming brain. Despite his knowledge, his absolute conviction of the truth, the case was far from finished; for the culprit could not be brought to account merely on the strength of that which he had just witnessed.
He had not an iota of proof to support any accusation he might make, and the circumstantial evidence which he ​could cite would seem ridiculously inconclusive; while as for a possible motive—
Then a light broke over his consciousness, and he struck his hands together sharply. He might not, after all, have been so far wrong in his deductions as to that. Given an incentive far more dominating than he had dreamed, the series of crimes took on at once the aspect of a most subtle and long-planned scheme; and only in its consummation had over-zeal betrayed it to the eyes of the law.
But unless he dared risk exposing to still further danger the several lives of the family whose safety had been tacitly entrusted to him, how could he prove the culprit's guilt beyond any doubt or disclaimer? Merely to accuse, hoping to force a confession, would be not only futile but a warning to the brain against which he had pitted his own that could not fail to be heeded forevermore; and the murders already accomplished must remain unavenged.
Only one means would avail: the culprit must be surprised into self-betrayal. At a moment when success seemed sure and no apparent danger in sight, a blow as unexpected as it would be disastrous to the whole fabric of that sinisterly nurtured scheme must threaten; and in the face of the dread alternative confession would come, in act if not in words.
Even as the detective reached this decision the means by which he might bring about the denouement suggested themselves to his mind; and a plan sprang full-grown into being. He turned to the telephone, carefully shut off the switch which connected with the upstairs extension, and lifting the receiver, asked in a low tone for Samuel Titheredge's number.
"Sergeant Odell speaking," he announced, still in the ​studiously modulated voice, when the attorney's dry, peremptory response came over the wire. "Can you arrange to close your office about half-past two this afternoon and come here to the Meade house? … I should like you for a witness … Yes, I think the case will be closed shortly … No; and when you come please don't mention that I sent for you. I will manage to see you alone for a minute; and I must ask you to obey my instructions implicitly or you may spoil everything. The guilty person will never be brought to justice if a single false move is made … I cannot possibly explain further. … You'll be here by three? Very good."
He hung up the receiver, unlocked the library door, and started upstairs, when Miss Meade suddenly made her appearance from the dining-room.
"Oh, Sergeant Odell, I've been looking for you," she said as she came forward.
"And I, you." He smiled. "I followed you downstairs more than an hour ago, Miss Meade, but saw you go into the pantry and decided not to bother you."
"I've been to see about some more broth for Cissie," she explained.
"I am so sorry I upset the other." Odell's tone was the perfection of courteous contrition. "It was stupid of me, but your nephew spoke suddenly just behind me, and in the start I gave the cup was overturned."
"Rannie will play mischievous tricks like that; but he is still only a little boy in spirit in spite of his precocity, and I cannot find it in my heart to reprove him." Miss Meade smiled deprecatingly. "It didn't matter at all about the broth; for my niece has fallen into a deep sleep, and Doctor ​Adams, who is with her now, says that it will be better to allow her to rest for several hours if she can rather than wake her for nourishment. But I must not annoy you with trivial details of this sort. You said that you wanted to see me?"
"Yes, Miss Meade; but only to explain about my stupid accident. I hope your niece is resting easier to-day?"
"I don't know." A little worried frown appeared upon her smooth brow. "I do not wish to seem disloyal; but sometimes I think it would be best if we dispensed with Doctor Adams's services, for the children at least. I am old-fashioned and believe in old-fashioned home remedies to a certain extent; but medical science has advanced with great strides of late, Rannie tells me, and I feel at times that Doctor Adams has stood still."
"You are dissatisfied with his treatment of your niece?" Odell asked quickly.
"No-o." Her reply came with an evidence of mental reservation. "But his manner is sometimes unnecessarily severe. He has excluded even me from the room now, and I am sure that Cissie will miss me the moment she awakes."
The pompous little physician evidently intended to follow his instructions to the letter; and Odell merely shrugged politely as he turned once more to the stairs, but Miss Meade held out a timidly detaining hand.
"Please, Sergeant Odell. I—I do not want to ask any questions which are perhaps tabooed, but my anxiety must be my excuse. I meant to ask you yesterday, but my courage failed; and I can learn nothing from either my brother-in-law or Mr. Titheredge. Has anything been discovered about—about the case which brings you here?" ​Her voice trembled with eagerness. "Even the presence of your men about the house has not yet brought the realization home to me of—of the unspeakable crimes which have been committed; and yet I know it must be, so, and the horror of it is like a living presence. Have you a single clue?"
During the merest fraction of a second he hesitated; for her beseeching eyes seemed to hold his as if she would draw the truth from him in spite of his decision to keep his own counsel until the moment was at hand. Then he threw off the spell and replied gravely but steadily:
"No, Miss Meade. This is the most baffling case of my experience. I appreciate what the fear and suspense must be like to you all, but time alone can solve the problem."
There followed an hour of inaction torturing to the detective in his eagerness to precipitate the climax which he felt would bring success to crown the days during which he had wandered in darkness. At length Peters announced to those of the family who were able to repair to the dining-room that the belated luncheon was served, and Miss Meade, Rannie, and Gene descended.
Odell peeped into Richard Lorne's room to find him dozing peacefully, then hurried to Cissie Chalmers's door and knocked with subdued insistence.
Doctor Adams opened it and presented a face of mild inquiry.
"You administered the opiate, Doctor?"
"Yes, but its effect will wear off in about an hour, I think," the physician responded nervously. "I really do not consider it wise to repeat the dose, but if you insist—"
"On the contrary. It is almost two, now. Would it be ​possible to awaken Miss Chalmers at, say, three o'clock?"
"Certainly."
"Will you do so then, and summon Miss Meade—but no one else—to take your place?"
"At three o'clock. I understand, Sergeant. You think that if there was really danger to my patient it will be over then?"
"Absolutely; but since you still doubt that the danger existed you may be interested in knowing that I sent a sample of broth which I suspected of having been poisoned to Villard, the analytical chemist, and he reports unmistakable evidence of white arsenic," Odell added hurriedly. "Not a word of this, however. When Miss Meade has taken your place come to me at once in Rannie Chalmers's room."
"I will, sir; but this confirmation of your suspicions fills me with distress," Doctor Adams declared. "I admit that I was not convinced even after an examination of my patient that she was indeed the victim of such an outrage. In the many years of my professional experience I have never before come into contact with crime; and the comparative monotony of a general practitioner's work must have dulled my perceptions."
"It is not always easy to see a thing, Doctor, even when you are looking for it," Odell replied from the consciousness of the revelation which had come to himself only that morning. "By the way, will it be safe to move Mr. Lorne this afternoon from his own room into that of his stepson next door?"
"Yes, I think so." The physician looked his surprise. We can assist him through the connecting door between it ​the two without taking him around by the hall. But what is going to happen in Rannie's room, Sergeant?"
"I have an experiment I want to make; that is all." Odell turned away. "At three o'clock, then, Doctor. I shall depend on you."
It lacked five minutes of the hour when Doctor Adams tapped with an eagerly trembling hand on the hunchback's door and the detective's voice promptly bade him enter. He obeyed to find Richard Lorne already ensconced upon the couch. Gene and Rannie in chairs on either side, and two strange men standing near the foot of the bed conversing in lowered tones with Odell.
Lorne's fat face was tense with excitement, and Gene's was white as chalk; but Rannie sat back with his old mocking smile, and only the vise-like grip of his thin, sallow fingers upon the arms of his chair betrayed the least sign of emotion.
The physician noted their expressions almost mechanically, and then his gaze wandered to the two strangers. Dimly he seemed to remember seeing them hanging about on the sidewalk in front of the house for the past few days—
Odell's voice broke in upon his thoughts. "Your patient is awake, Doctor? You have not left her alone, I trust?"
"No. Miss Meade is with her, as you—"
"Then that is all right," Odell interrupted him in obvious haste. "There is something which I wish to tell you all, but we must wait for a little. I am expecting—"
A discreet knock upon the door interrupted him in turn, and he opened it to find Peters on the threshold.
"Mr. Titheredge, sir."
"Please say that I will be down at once." Odell waited ​until the butler had departed upon his errand and then turned to the others: "I shall be back in a moment, and I must ask that none of you attempt to leave the room in my absence. If you do, my men here have their orders as to how to proceed."
The doctor sank into a chair with a gasp; but Lorne twisted irascibly upon his couch.
"Of all the high-handed—", he began.
"Oh, see it through, Dad," Rannie chuckled. "If he has gone to the trouble of arranging this little entertainment for our edification we might at least listen politely. Eh, Gene?"
"I don't know about its being so entertaining," Gene responded nervously. "I rather fancy we are in for a mighty serious quarter of an hour. I've learned that Sergeant Odell knows what he's about."
Thereafter an awkward silence reigned until the door opened again and the detective reappeared accompanied by the family lawyer, whose usually grim, imperturbable face bore a singularly dazed expression.
He nodded to the rest without speaking and took the chair which Odell turned in the doorway to indicate. Then the latter faced the hall once more in an attitude of anticipation, and the strained silence continued.
Minute followed dragging minute, and even Rannie's twisted face lost its satirical grin when at last soft, padded footsteps sounded up the back stairs and Peters again came into view bearing a cup from the steam of which an appetizing aroma rose.
Odell stepped forward, took the tray from his hands and whispered something which the others could not hear, but which the butler seemed to accept without question or sur​prise; for he bowed and turned away as if to cross the hall.
Then several things happened almost simultaneously. Odell reentered the room, handed the tray to one of his men who stepped forward to receive it, and turning quickly, locked the door and pocketed the key. The two men, as if by previous instructions, stationed themselves one on either side of the door, and Odell took up the cup from the tray and advanced to the center of the room.
In the electrified stillness there could be heard a sudden stir in the hall, and then the detective as suddenly spoke.
"Randall Chalmers," he thundered, "I want you to drink this cup of broth to the last drop!"
"No! Don't touch it! Don't, for the love of God!" The cry came in a harsh, rasping voice which might have been that of either man or woman, and an unseen hand rattled the doorknob with frenzied strength.
"Drink it!" Odell commanded inexorably; and as the words left his lips there came a resounding crash behind him, the stout door burst inward upon its quivering hinges, and through the aperture a wild figure leaped for the detective's throat; but the two guards seized it and dragged it back as the cup crashed to the floor.
The figure was the frail, delicate form of the mouse-like Miss Meade, but the face was that of a fiend, and the hideous outburst of laughter which shrilled and echoed through the room told all too plainly of the crazed brain unleashed at last.