Queen of Hearts by Fred M. White — Read

Tom Gilchrist was destined to remember those next two or three days until the end of his life. There were other hours more fraught with peril to follow, but, before then, the keen edge was taken off his mental sufferings, so that he was more able to bear them. But after the dramatic disclosures at the inquest, it seemed to him that he was utterly alone in the world and that everybody was disposed to regard him as an outcast and a criminal. There were some who greeted him cheerfully enough but others who seemed uneasy and embarrassed and yet a few who passed him with their heads averted as if they deemed him already beyond the pale. He could not go near his clubs, he could not appear openly before the world, he could only wait with what patience he could for the police to make the next move.

And that they would make a move he did not doubt for a moment. It was poor consolation to him that the coroner's jury at the final hearing had brought in a verdict of wilful murder by some person or persons unknown, because that meant precisely nothing. The jury very prudently had thrown the onus back on the shoulders of the police, so that whatever conclusion the jury came to, it could not possibly fetter the actions of those in charge at Scotland Yard. So, therefore, there was nothing for Tom to do but to wait until that dread moment when Inspector Winch, or one of his subordinates, came along and arrested him in the name of the law. He would, almost, have welcomed that summons, for the tension was getting almost more than he could bear. Moreover, he had refused, so far, to call in a lawyer or barrister to his aid. He would have to do that sooner or later; but meanwhile, he preferred to remain alone in his rooms until the next step was taken.