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diff --git a/11127-h/11127-h.htm b/11127-h/11127-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..609ec9c --- /dev/null +++ b/11127-h/11127-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3797 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<meta name="generator" content= +"HTML Tidy for Windows (vers 1st February 2004), see www.w3.org"> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content= +"text/html; charset=UTF-8"> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of the Case of Jennie Brice, by +Mary Roberts Rinehart.</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + <!-- + * { font-family: Times;} + P { text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: .75em; + font-size: 12pt; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; } + HR { width: 33%; } + PRE { font-family: Courier, monospaced; } + // --> +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11127 ***</div> + +<h1>THE CASE <i>of</i> JENNIE BRICE</h1> +<h2><i>By</i><br> +MARY ROBERTS RINEHART</h2> +<br> +<h3><i>Author of</i><br> +THE MAN IN LOWER TEN, WHEN A MAN MARRIES<br> +WHERE THERE'S A WILL, ETC.</h3> +<br> +<h3><i>Illustrated by</i><br> +M. LEONE BRACKER</h3> +<br> +<h3>1913</h3> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr> +<p><b>-----CONTENTS-----</b></p> +<p><a href="#CH1">CHAPTER I</a></p> +<p><a href="#CH2">CHAPTER II</a></p> +<p><a href="#CH3">CHAPTER III</a></p> +<p><a href="#CH4">CHAPTER IV</a></p> +<p><a href="#CH5">CHAPTER V</a></p> +<p><a href="#CH6">CHAPTER VI</a></p> +<p><a href="#CH7">CHAPTER VII</a></p> +<p><a href="#CH8">CHAPTER VIII</a></p> +<p><a href="#CH9">CHAPTER IX</a></p> +<p><a href="#CH10">CHAPTER X</a></p> +<p><a href="#CH11">CHAPTER XI</a></p> +<p><a href="#CH12">CHAPTER XII</a></p> +<p><a href="#CH13">CHAPTER XIII</a></p> +<p><a href="#CH14">CHAPTER XIV</a></p> +<p><a href="#CH15">CHAPTER XV</a></p> +<p><a href="#CH16">CHAPTER XVI</a></p> +<p><b>-----ILLUSTRATIONS-----</b></p> +<p>1. <a href="#image-1">She Sat up in Bed Suddenly.</a></p> +<p>2. <a href="#image-2">While His Wife Slept.</a></p> +<hr> +<a name="CH1"><!-- CH1 --></a> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +<p>We have just had another flood, bad enough, but only a foot or +two of water on the first floor. Yesterday we got the mud shoveled +out of the cellar and found Peter, the spaniel that Mr. Ladley left +when he "went away". The flood, and the fact that it was Mr. +Ladley's dog whose body was found half buried in the basement fruit +closet, brought back to me the strange events of the other flood +five years ago, when the water reached more than half-way to the +second story, and brought with it, to some, mystery and sudden +death, and to me the worst case of "shingles" I have ever seen.</p> +<p>My name is Pitman—in this narrative. It is not really +Pitman, but that does well enough. I belong to an old Pittsburgh +family. I was born on Penn Avenue, when that was the best part of +town, and I lived, until I was fifteen, very close to what is now +the Pittsburgh Club. It was a dwelling then; I have forgotten who +lived there.</p> +<p>I was a girl in seventy-seven, during the railroad riots, and I +recall our driving in the family carriage over to one of the +Allegheny hills, and seeing the yards burning, and a great noise of +shooting from across the river. It was the next year that I ran +away from school to marry Mr. Pitman, and I have not known my +family since. We were never reconciled, although I came back to +Pittsburgh after twenty years of wandering. Mr. Pitman was dead; +the old city called me, and I came. I had a hundred dollars or so, +and I took a house in lower Allegheny, where, because they are +partly inundated every spring, rents are cheap, and I kept +boarders. My house was always orderly and clean, and although the +neighborhood had a bad name, a good many theatrical people stopped +with me. Five minutes across the bridge, and they were in the +theater district. Allegheny at that time, I believe, was still an +independent city. But since then it has allied itself with +Pittsburgh; it is now the North Side.</p> +<p>I was glad to get back. I worked hard, but I made my rent and my +living, and a little over. Now and then on summer evenings I went +to one of the parks, and sitting on a bench, watched the children +playing around, and looked at my sister's house, closed for the +summer. It is a very large house: her butler once had his wife +boarding with me—a nice little woman.</p> +<p>It is curious to recall that, at that time, five years ago, I +had never seen my niece, Lida Harvey, and then to think that only +the day before yesterday she came in her automobile as far as she +dared, and then sat there, waving to me, while the police patrol +brought across in a skiff a basket of provisions she had sent +me.</p> +<p>I wonder what she would have thought had she known that the +elderly woman in a calico wrapper with an old overcoat over it, and +a pair of rubber boots, was her full aunt!</p> +<p>The flood and the sight of Lida both brought back the case of +Jennie Brice. For even then, Lida and Mr. Howell were interested in +each other.</p> +<p>This is April. The flood of 1907 was earlier, in March. It had +been a long hard winter, with ice gorges in all the upper valley. +Then, in early March, there came a thaw. The gorges broke up and +began to come down, filling the rivers with crushing grinding +ice.</p> +<p>There are three rivers at Pittsburgh, the Allegheny and the +Monongahela uniting there at the Point to form the Ohio. And all +three were covered with broken ice, logs, and all sorts of debris +from the upper valleys.</p> +<p>A warning was sent out from the weather bureau, and I got my +carpets ready to lift that morning. That was on the fourth of +March, a Sunday. Mr. Ladley and his wife, Jennie Brice, had the +parlor bedroom and the room behind it. Mrs. Ladley, or Miss Brice, +as she preferred to be known, had a small part at a local theater +that kept a permanent company. Her husband was in that business, +too, but he had nothing to do. It was the wife who paid the bills, +and a lot of quarreling they did about it.</p> +<p>I knocked at the door at ten o'clock, and Mr. Ladley opened it. +He was a short man, rather stout and getting bald, and he always +had a cigarette. Even yet, the parlor carpet smells of them.</p> +<p>"What do you want?" he asked sharply, holding the door open +about an inch.</p> +<p>"The water's coming up very fast, Mr. Ladley," I said. "It's up +to the swinging-shelf in the cellar now. I'd like to take up the +carpet and move the piano."</p> +<p>"Come back in an hour or so," he snapped, and tried to close the +door. But I had got my toe in the crack.</p> +<p>"I'll have to have the piano moved, Mr. Ladley," I said. "You'd +better put off what you are doing."</p> +<p>I thought he was probably writing. He spent most of the day +writing, using the wash-stand as a desk, and it kept me busy with +oxalic acid taking ink-spots out of the splasher and the towels. He +was writing a play, and talked a lot about the Shuberts having +promised to star him in it when it was finished.</p> +<p>"Hell!" he said, and turning, spoke to somebody in the room.</p> +<p>"We can go into the back room," I heard him say, and he closed +the door. When he opened it again, the room was empty. I called in +Terry, the Irishman who does odd jobs for me now and then, and we +both got to work at the tacks in the carpet, Terry working by the +window, and I by the door into the back parlor, which the Ladleys +used as a bedroom.</p> +<p>That was how I happened to hear what I afterward told the +police.</p> +<p>Some one—a man, but not Mr. Ladley—was talking. Mrs. +Ladley broke in: "I won't do it!" she said flatly. "Why should I +help him? He doesn't help me. He loafs here all day, smoking and +sleeping, and sits up all night, drinking and keeping me +awake."</p> +<p>The voice went on again, as if in reply to this, and I heard a +rattle of glasses, as if they were pouring drinks. They always had +whisky, even when they were behind with their board.</p> +<p>"That's all very well," Mrs. Ladley said. I could always hear +her, she having a theatrical sort of voice—one that carries. +"But what about the prying she-devil that runs the house?"</p> +<p>"Hush, for God's sake!" broke in Mr. Ladley, and after that they +spoke in whispers. Even with my ear against the panel, I could not +catch a word.</p> +<p>The men came just then to move the piano, and by the time we had +taken it and the furniture up-stairs, the water was over the +kitchen floor, and creeping forward into the hall. I had never seen +the river come up so fast. By noon the yard was full of floating +ice, and at three that afternoon the police skiff was on the front +street, and I was wading around in rubber boots, taking the +pictures off the walls.</p> +<p>I was too busy to see who the Ladleys' visitor was, and he had +gone when I remembered him again. The Ladleys took the second-story +front, which was empty, and Mr. Reynolds, who was in the silk +department in a store across the river, had the room just +behind.</p> +<p>I put up a coal stove in a back room next the bathroom, and +managed to cook the dinner there. I was washing up the dishes when +Mr. Reynolds came in. As it was Sunday, he was in his slippers and +had the colored supplement of a morning paper in his hand.</p> +<p>"What's the matter with the Ladleys?" he asked. "I can't read +for their quarreling."</p> +<p>"Booze, probably," I said. "When you've lived in the flood +district as long as I have, Mr. Reynolds, you'll know that the +rising of the river is a signal for every man in the vicinity to +stop work and get full. The fuller the river, the fuller the male +population."</p> +<p>"Then this flood will likely make 'em drink themselves to +death!" he said. "It's a lulu."</p> +<p>"It's the neighborhood's annual debauch. The women are busy +keeping the babies from getting drowned in the cellars, or they'd +get full, too. I hope, since it's come this far, it will come +farther, so the landlord will have to paper the parlor."</p> +<p>That was at three o'clock. At four Mr. Ladley went down the +stairs, and I heard him getting into a skiff in the lower hall. +There were boats going back and forth all the time, carrying crowds +of curious people, and taking the flood sufferers to the corner +grocery, where they were lowering groceries in a basket on a rope +from an upper window.</p> +<p>I had been making tea when I heard Mr. Ladley go out. I fixed a +tray with a cup of it and some crackers, and took it to their door. +I had never liked Mrs. Ladley, but it was chilly in the house with +the gas shut off and the lower floor full of ice-water. And it is +hard enough to keep boarders in the flood district.</p> +<p>She did not answer to my knock, so I opened the door and went +in. She was at the window, looking after him, and the brown valise, +that figured in the case later, was opened on the floor. Over the +foot of the bed was the black and white dress, with the red +collar.</p> +<p>When I spoke to her, she turned around quickly. She was a tall +woman, about twenty-eight, with very white teeth and yellow hair, +which she parted a little to one side and drew down over her ears. +She had a sullen face and large well-shaped hands, with her nails +long and very pointed.</p> +<p>"The 'she-devil' has brought you some tea," I said. "Where shall +she put it?"</p> +<p>"'She-devil'!" she repeated, raising her eyebrows. "It's a very +thoughtful she-devil. Who called you that?"</p> +<p>But, with the sight of the valise and the fear that they might +be leaving, I thought it best not to quarrel. She had left the +window, and going to her dressing-table, had picked up her +nail-file.</p> +<p>"Never mind," I said. "I hope you are not going away. These +floods don't last, and they're a benefit. Plenty of the people +around here rely on 'em every year to wash out their cellars."</p> +<p>"No, I'm not going away," she replied lazily. "I'm taking that +dress to Miss Hope at the theater. She is going to wear it in +<i>Charlie's Aunt</i> next week. She hasn't half enough of a +wardrobe to play leads in stock. Look at this thumb-nail, broken to +the quick!"</p> +<p>If I had only looked to see which thumb it was! But I was +putting the tea-tray on the wash-stand, and moving Mr. Ladley's +papers to find room for it. Peter, the spaniel, begged for a lump +of sugar, and I gave it to him.</p> +<p>"Where is Mr. Ladley?" I asked.</p> +<p>"Gone out to see the river."</p> +<p>"I hope he'll be careful. There's a drowning or two every year +in these floods."</p> +<p>"Then I hope he won't," she said calmly. "Do you know what I was +doing when you came in? I was looking after his boat, and hoping it +had a hole in it."</p> +<p>"You won't feel that way to-morrow, Mrs. Ladley," I protested, +shocked. "You're just nervous and put out. Most men have their ugly +times. Many a time I wished Mr. Pitman was gone—until he +went. Then I'd have given a good bit to have him back again."</p> +<p>She was standing in front of the dresser, fixing her hair over +her ears. She turned and looked at me over her shoulder.</p> +<p>"Probably Mr. Pitman was a man," she said. "My husband is a +fiend, a devil."</p> +<p>Well, a good many women have said that to me at different times. +But just let me say such a thing to <i>them</i>, or repeat their +own words to them the next day, and they would fly at me in a fury. +So I said nothing, and put the cream into her tea.</p> +<p>I never saw her again.</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<a name="CH2"><!-- CH2 --></a> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> +<p>There is not much sleeping done in the flood district during a +spring flood. The gas was shut off, and I gave Mr. Reynolds and the +Ladleys each a lamp. I sat in the back room that I had made into a +temporary kitchen, with a candle, and with a bedquilt around my +shoulders. The water rose fast in the lower hall, but by midnight, +at the seventh step, it stopped rising and stood still. I always +have a skiff during the flood season, and as the water rose, I tied +it to one spindle of the staircase after another.</p> +<p>I made myself a cup of tea, and at one o'clock I stretched out +on a sofa for a few hours' sleep. I think I had been sleeping only +an hour or so, when some one touched me on the shoulder and I +started up. It was Mr. Reynolds, partly dressed.</p> +<p>"Some one has been in the house, Mrs. Pitman," he said. "They +went away just now in the boat."</p> +<p>"Perhaps it was Peter," I suggested. "That dog is always +wandering around at night."</p> +<p>"Not unless Peter can row a boat," said Mr. Reynolds dryly.</p> +<p>I got up, being already fully dressed, and taking the candle, we +went to the staircase. I noticed that it was a minute or so after +two o'clock as we left the room. The boat was gone, not untied, but +cut loose. The end of the rope was still fastened to the +stair-rail. I sat down on the stairs and looked at Mr. +Reynolds.</p> +<p>"It's gone!" I said. "If the house catches fire, we'll have to +drown."</p> +<p>"It's rather curious, when you consider it." We both spoke +softly, not to disturb the Ladleys. "I've been awake, and I heard +no boat come in. And yet, if no one came in a boat, and came from +the street, they would have had to swim in."</p> +<p>I felt queer and creepy. The street door was open, of course, +and the lights going beyond. It gave me a strange feeling to sit +there in the darkness on the stairs, with the arch of the front +door like the entrance to a cavern, and see now and then a chunk of +ice slide into view, turn around in the eddy, and pass on. It was +bitter cold, too, and the wind was rising.</p> +<p>"I'll go through the house," said Mr. Reynolds. "There's likely +nothing worse the matter than some drunken mill-hand on a vacation +while the mills are under water. But I'd better look."</p> +<p>He left me, and I sat there alone in the darkness. I had a +presentiment of something wrong, but I tried to think it was only +discomfort and the cold. The water, driven in by the wind, swirled +at my feet. And something dark floated in and lodged on the step +below. I reached down and touched it. It was a dead kitten. I had +never known a dead cat to bring me anything but bad luck, and here +was one washed in at my very feet.</p> +<p>Mr. Reynolds came back soon, and reported the house quiet and in +order.</p> +<p>"But I found Peter shut up in one of the third-floor rooms," he +said. "Did you put him there?"</p> +<p>I had not, and said so; but as the dog went everywhere, and the +door might have blown shut, we did not attach much importance to +that at the time.</p> +<p>Well, the skiff was gone, and there was no use worrying about it +until morning. I went back to the sofa to keep warm, but I left my +candle lighted and my door open. I did not sleep: the dead cat was +on my mind, and, as if it were not bad enough to have it washed in +at my feet, about four in the morning Peter, prowling uneasily, +discovered it and brought it in and put it on my couch, wet and +stiff, poor little thing!</p> +<p>I looked at the clock. It was a quarter after four, and except +for the occasional crunch of one ice-cake hitting another in the +yard, everything was quiet. And then I heard the stealthy sound of +oars in the lower hall.</p> +<p>I am not a brave woman. I lay there, hoping Mr. Reynolds would +hear and open his door. But he was sleeping soundly. Peter snarled +and ran out into the hall, and the next moment I heard Mr. Ladley +speaking. "Down, Peter," he said. "Down. Go and lie down."</p> +<p>I took my candle and went out into the hall. Mr. Ladley was +stooping over the boat, trying to tie it to the staircase. The rope +was short, having been cut, and he was having trouble. Perhaps it +was the candle-light, but he looked ghost-white and haggard.</p> +<p>"I borrowed your boat, Mrs. Pitman," he said, civilly enough. +"Mrs. Ladley was not well, and I—I went to the drug +store."</p> +<p>"You've been more than two hours going to the drug store," I +said.</p> +<p>He muttered something about not finding any open at first, and +went into his room. He closed and locked the door behind him, and +although Peter whined and scratched, he did not let him in.</p> +<p>He looked so agitated that I thought I had been harsh, and that +perhaps she was really ill. I knocked at the door, and asked if I +could do anything. But he only called "No" curtly through the door, +and asked me to take that infernal dog away.</p> +<p>I went back to bed and tried to sleep, for the water had dropped +an inch or so on the stairs, and I knew the danger was over. Peter +came, shivering, at dawn, and got on to the sofa with me. I put an +end of the quilt over him, and he stopped shivering after a time +and went to sleep.</p> +<p>The dog was company. I lay there, wide awake, thinking about Mr. +Pitman's death, and how I had come, by degrees, to be keeping a +cheap boarding-house in the flood district, and to having to take +impudence from everybody who chose to rent a room from me, and to +being called a she-devil. From that I got to thinking again about +the Ladleys, and how she had said he was a fiend, and to doubting +about his having gone out for medicine for her. I dozed off again +at daylight, and being worn out, I slept heavily.</p> +<p>At seven o'clock Mr. Reynolds came to the door, dressed for the +store. He was a tall man of about fifty, neat and orderly in his +habits, and he always remembered that I had seen better days, and +treated me as a lady.</p> +<p>"Never mind about breakfast for me this morning, Mrs. Pitman," +he said. "I'll get a cup of coffee at the other end of the bridge. +I'll take the boat and send it back with Terry."</p> +<p>He turned and went along the hall and down to the boat. I heard +him push off from the stairs with an oar and row out into the +street. Peter followed him to the stairs.</p> +<p>At a quarter after seven Mr. Ladley came out and called to me: +"Just bring in a cup of coffee and some toast," he said. "Enough +for one."</p> +<p>He went back and slammed his door, and I made his coffee. I +steeped a cup of tea for Mrs. Ladley at the same time. He opened +the door just wide enough for the tray, and took it without so much +as a "thank you." He had a cigarette in his mouth as usual, and I +could see a fire in the grate and smell something like scorching +cloth.</p> +<p>"I hope Mrs. Ladley is better," I said, getting my foot in the +crack of the door, so he could not quite close it. It smelled to me +as if he had accidentally set fire to something with his cigarette, +and I tried to see into the room.</p> +<p>"What about Mrs. Ladley?" he snapped.</p> +<p>"You said she was ill last night."</p> +<p>"Oh, yes! Well, she wasn't very sick. She's better."</p> +<p>"Shall I bring her some tea?"</p> +<p>"Take your foot away!" he ordered. "No. She doesn't want tea. +She's not here."</p> +<p>"Not here!"</p> +<p>"Good heavens!" he snarled. "Is her going away anything to make +such a fuss about? The Lord knows I'd be glad to get out of this +infernal pig-wallow myself."</p> +<p>"If you mean my house—" I began.</p> +<p>But he had pulled himself together and was more polite when he +answered. "I mean the neighborhood. Your house is all that could be +desired for the money. If we do not have linen sheets and double +cream, we are paying muslin and milk prices."</p> +<p>Either my nose was growing accustomed to the odor, or it was +dying away: I took my foot away from the door. "When did Mrs. +Ladley leave?" I asked.</p> +<p>"This morning, very early. I rowed her to Federal Street."</p> +<p>"You couldn't have had much sleep," I said dryly. For he looked +horrible. There were lines around his eyes, which were red, and his +lips looked dry and cracked.</p> +<p>"She's not in the piece this week at the theater," he said, +licking his lips and looking past me, not at me. "She'll be back by +Saturday."</p> +<p>I did not believe him. I do not think he imagined that I did. He +shut the door in my face, and it caught poor Peter by the nose. The +dog ran off howling, but although Mr. Ladley had been as fond of +the animal as it was in his nature to be fond of anything, he paid +no attention. As I started down the hall after him, I saw what +Peter had been carrying—a slipper of Mrs. Ladley's. It was +soaked with water; evidently Peter had found it floating at the +foot of the stairs.</p> +<p>Although the idea of murder had not entered my head at that +time, the slipper gave me a turn. I picked it up and looked at +it—a black one with a beaded toe, short in the vamp and +high-heeled, the sort most actresses wear. Then I went back and +knocked at the door of the front room again.</p> +<p>"What the devil do you want now?" he called from beyond the +door.</p> +<p>"Here's a slipper of Mrs. Ladley's," I said. "Peter found it +floating in the lower hall."</p> +<p>He opened the door wide, and let me in. The room was in +tolerable order, much better than when Mrs. Ladley was about. He +looked at the slipper, but he did not touch it. "I don't think that +is hers," he said.</p> +<p>"I've seen her wear it a hundred times."</p> +<p>"Well, she'll never wear it again." And then, seeing me stare, +he added: "It's ruined with the water. Throw it out. And, by the +way, I'm sorry, but I set fire to one of the +pillow-slips—dropped asleep, and my cigarette did the rest. +Just put it on the bill."</p> +<p>He pointed to the bed. One of the pillows had no slip, and the +ticking cover had a scorch or two on it. I went over and looked at +it.</p> +<p>"The pillow will have to be paid for, too, Mr. Ladley," I said. +"And there's a sign nailed on the door that forbids smoking in bed. +If you are going to set fire to things, I shall have to charge +extra."</p> +<p>"Really!" he jeered, looking at me with his cold fishy eyes. "Is +there any sign on the door saying that boarders are charged extra +for seven feet of filthy river in the bedrooms?"</p> +<p>I was never a match for him, and I make it a principle never to +bandy words with my boarders. I took the pillow and the slipper +and went out. The telephone was ringing on the stair landing. It +was the theater, asking for Miss Brice.</p> +<p>"She has gone away," I said.</p> +<p>"What do you mean? Moved away?"</p> +<p>"Gone for a few days' vacation," I replied. "She isn't playing +this week, is she?"</p> +<p>"Wait a moment," said the voice. There was a hum of conversation +from the other end, and then another man came to the telephone.</p> +<p>"Can you find out where Miss Brice has gone?"</p> +<p>"I'll see."</p> +<p>I went to Ladley's door and knocked. Mr. Ladley answered from +just beyond.</p> +<p>"The theater is asking where Mrs. Ladley is."</p> +<p>"Tell them I don't know," he snarled, and shut the door. I took +his message to the telephone.</p> +<p>Whoever it was swore and hung up the receiver.</p> +<p>All the morning I was uneasy—I hardly knew why. Peter felt +it as I did. There was no sound from the Ladleys' room, and the +house was quiet, except for the lapping water on the stairs and the +police patrol going back and forth.</p> +<p>At eleven o'clock a boy in the neighborhood, paddling on a raft, +fell into the water and was drowned. I watched the police boat go +past, carrying his little cold body, and after that I was good for +nothing. I went and sat with Peter on the stairs. The dog's conduct +had been strange all morning. He had sat just above the water, +looking at it and whimpering. Perhaps he was expecting another +kitten or—</p> +<p>It is hard to say how ideas first enter one's mind. But the +notion that Mr. Ladley had killed his wife and thrown her body into +the water came to me as I sat there. All at once I seemed to see it +all: the quarreling the day before, the night trip in the boat, the +water-soaked slipper, his haggard face that morning—even the +way the spaniel sat and stared at the flood.</p> +<p>Terry brought the boat back at half past eleven, towing it +behind another.</p> +<p>"Well," I said, from the stairs, "I hope you've had a pleasant +morning."</p> +<p>"What doing?" he asked, not looking at me.</p> +<p>"Rowing about the streets. You've had that boat for hours."</p> +<p>He tied it up without a word to me, but he spoke to the dog. +"Good morning, Peter," he said. "It's nice weather—for +fishes, ain't it?"</p> +<p>He picked out a bit of floating wood from the water, and showing +it to the dog, flung it into the parlor. Peter went after it with a +splash. He was pretty fat, and when he came back I heard him +wheezing. But what he brought back was not the stick of wood. It +was the knife I use for cutting bread. It had been on a shelf in +the room where I had slept the night before, and now Peter brought +it out of the flood where its wooden handle had kept it afloat. The +blade was broken off short.</p> +<p>It is not unusual to find one's household goods floating around +during flood-time. More than once I've lost a chair or two, and +seen it after the water had gone down, new scrubbed and painted, in +Molly Maguire's kitchen next door. And perhaps now and then a bit +of luck would come to me—a dog kennel or a chicken-house, or +a kitchen table, or even, as happened once, a month-old baby in a +wooden cradle, that lodged against my back fence, and had come +forty miles, as it turned out, with no worse mishap than a cold in +its head.</p> +<p>But the knife was different. I had put it on the mantel over the +stove I was using up-stairs the night before, and hadn't touched it +since. As I sat staring at it, Terry took it from Peter and handed +it to me.</p> +<p>"Better give me a penny, Mrs. Pitman," he said in his impudent +Irish way. "I hate to give you a knife. It may cut our +friendship."</p> +<p>I reached over to hit him a clout on the head, but I did not. +The sunlight was coming in through the window at the top of the +stairs, and shining on the rope that was tied to the banister. The +end of the rope was covered with stains, brown, with a glint of red +in them.</p> +<p>I got up shivering. "You can get the meat at the butcher's, +Terry," I said, "and come back for me in a half-hour." Then I +turned and went up-stairs, weak in the knees, to put on my hat and +coat. I had made up my mind that there had been murder done.</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<a name="CH3"><!-- CH3 --></a> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +<p>I looked at my clock as I went down-stairs. It was just +twelve-thirty. I thought of telephoning for Mr. Reynolds to meet +me, but it was his lunch hour, and besides I was afraid to +telephone from the house while Mr. Ladley was in it.</p> +<p>Peter had been whining again. When I came down the stairs he had +stopped whimpering and was wagging his tail. A strange boat had put +into the hallway and was coming back.</p> +<p>"Now, old boy!" somebody was saying from the boat. "Steady, old +chap! I've got something for you."</p> +<p>A little man, elderly and alert, was standing up in the boat, +poling it along with an oar. Peter gave vent to joyful yelps. The +elderly gentleman brought his boat to a stop at the foot of the +stairs, and reaching down into a tub at his feet, held up a large +piece of raw liver. Peter almost went crazy, and I remembered +suddenly that I had forgotten to feed the poor beast for more than +a day.</p> +<p>"Would you like it?" asked the gentleman. Peter sat up, as he +had been taught to do, and barked. The gentleman reached down +again, got a wooden platter from a stack of them at his feet, and +placing the liver on it, put it on the step. The whole thing was so +neat and businesslike that I could only gaze.</p> +<p>"That's a well-trained dog, madam," said the elderly gentleman, +beaming at Peter over his glasses. "You should not have neglected +him."</p> +<p>"The flood put him out of my mind," I explained, humbly enough, +for I was ashamed.</p> +<p>"Exactly. Do you know how many starving dogs and cats I have +found this morning?" He took a note-book out of his pocket and +glanced at it. "Forty-eight. Forty-eight, madam! And ninety-three +cats! I have found them marooned in trees, clinging to fences, +floating on barrels, and I have found them in comfortable houses +where there was no excuse for their neglect. Well, I must be moving +on. I have the report of a cat with a new litter in the loft of a +stable near here."</p> +<p>He wiped his hands carefully on a fresh paper napkin, of which +also a heap rested on one of the seats of the boat, and picked up +an oar, smiling benevolently at Peter. Then, suddenly, he bent over +and looked at the stained rope end, tied to the stair-rail.</p> +<p>"What's that?" he said.</p> +<p>"That's what I'm going to find out," I replied. I glanced up at +the Ladleys' door, but it was closed.</p> +<p>The little man dropped his oar, and fumbling in his pockets, +pulled out a small magnifying-glass. He bent over, holding to the +rail, and inspected the stains with the glass. I had taken a fancy +to him at once, and in spite of my excitement I had to smile a +little.</p> +<p>"Humph!" he said, and looked up at me. "That's blood. Why did +you <i>cut</i> the boat loose?"</p> +<p>"I didn't," I said. "If that is blood, I want to know how it got +there. That was a new rope last night." I glanced at the Ladleys' +door again, and he followed my eyes.</p> +<p>"I wonder," he said, raising his voice a little, "if I come into +your kitchen, if you will allow me to fry a little of that liver. +There's a wretched Maltese in a tree at the corner of Fourth Street +that won't touch it, raw."</p> +<p>I saw that he wanted to talk to me, so I turned around and led +the way to the temporary kitchen I had made.</p> +<p>"Now," he said briskly, when he had closed the door, "there's +something wrong here. Perhaps if you tell me, I can help. If I +can't, it will do you good to talk about it. My name's Holcombe, +retired merchant. Apply to First National Bank for references."</p> +<p>"I'm not sure there <i>is</i> anything wrong," I began. "I guess +I'm only nervous, and thinking little things are big ones. There's +nothing to tell."</p> +<p>"Nonsense. I come down the street in my boat. A white-faced +gentleman with a cigarette looks out from a window when I stop at +the door, and ducks back when I glance up. I come in and find a pet +dog, obviously overfed at ordinary times, whining with hunger on +the stairs. As I prepare to feed him, a pale woman comes down, +trying to put a right-hand glove on her left hand, and with her +jacket wrong side out. What am I to think?"</p> +<p>I started and looked at my coat. He was right. And when, as I +tried to take it off, he helped me, and even patted me on the +shoulder—what with his kindness, and the long morning alone, +worrying, and the sleepless night, I began to cry. He had a clean +handkerchief in my hand before I had time to think of one.</p> +<p>"That's it," he said. "It will do you good, only don't make a +noise about it. If it's a husband on the annual flood spree, don't +worry, madam. They always come around in time to whitewash the +cellars."</p> +<p>"It isn't a husband," I sniffled.</p> +<p>"Tell me about it," he said. There was something so kindly in +his face, and it was so long since I had had a bit of human +sympathy, that I almost broke down again.</p> +<p>I sat there, with a crowd of children paddling on a raft outside +the window, and Molly Maguire, next door, hauling the morning's +milk up in a pail fastened to a rope, her doorway being too narrow +to admit the milkman's boat, and I told him the whole story.</p> +<p>"Humph!" he exclaimed, when I had finished. "It's curious, +but—you can't prove a murder unless you can produce a +body."</p> +<p>"When the river goes down, we'll find the body," I said, +shivering. "It's in the parlor."</p> +<p>"Then why doesn't he try to get away?"</p> +<p>"He is ready to go now. He only went back when your boat came +in."</p> +<p>Mr. Holcombe ran to the door, and flinging it open, peered into +the lower hall. He was too late. His boat was gone, tub of liver, +pile of wooden platters and all!</p> +<p>We hurried to the room the Ladleys had occupied. It was empty. +From the window, as we looked out, we could see the boat, almost a +square away. It had stopped where, the street being higher, a +door-step rose above the flood. On the step was sitting a forlorn +yellow puppy. As we stared, Mr. Ladley stopped the boat, looked +back at us, bent over, placed a piece of liver on a platter, and +reached it over to the dog. Then, rising in the boat, he bowed, +with his hat over his heart, in our direction, sat down calmly, and +rowed around the corner out of sight.</p> +<p>Mr. Holcombe was in a frenzy of rage. He jumped up and down, +shaking his fist out the window after the retreating boat. He ran +down the staircase, only to come back and look out the window +again. The police boat was not in sight, but the Maguire children +had worked their raft around to the street and were under the +window. He leaned out and called to them.</p> +<p>"A quarter each, boys," he said, "if you'll take me on that raft +to the nearest pavement."</p> +<p>"Money first," said the oldest boy, holding his cap.</p> +<p>But Mr. Holcombe did not wait. He swung out over the +window-sill, holding by his hands, and lit fairly in the center of +the raft.</p> +<p>"Don't touch anything in that room until I come back," he called +to me, and jerking the pole from one of the boys, propelled the +raft with amazing speed down the street.</p> +<p>The liver on the stove was burning. There was a smell of +scorching through the rooms and a sort of bluish haze of smoke. I +hurried back and took it off. By the time I had cleaned the pan, +Mr. Holcombe was back again, in his own boat. He had found it at +the end of the next street, where the flood ceased, but no sign of +Ladley anywhere. He had not seen the police boat.</p> +<p>"Perhaps that is just as well," he said philosophically. "We +can't go to the police with a wet slipper and a blood-stained rope +and accuse a man of murder. We have to have a body."</p> +<p>"He killed her," I said obstinately. "She told me yesterday he +was a fiend. He killed her and threw the body in the water."</p> +<p>"Very likely. But he didn't throw it here."</p> +<p>But in spite of that, he went over all the lower hall with his +boat, feeling every foot of the floor with an oar, and finally, at +the back end, he looked up at me as I stood on the stairs.</p> +<p>"There's something here," he said.</p> +<p>I went cold all over, and had to clutch the railing. But when +Terry had come, and the two of them brought the thing to the +surface, it was only the dining-room rug, which I had rolled up and +forgotten to carry up-stairs!</p> +<p>At half past one Mr. Holcombe wrote a note, and sent it off with +Terry, and borrowing my boots, which had been Mr. Pitman's, +investigated the dining-room and kitchen from a floating plank; the +doors were too narrow to admit the boat. But he found nothing more +important than a rolling-pin. He was not at all depressed by his +failure. He came back, drenched to the skin, about three, and asked +permission to search the Ladleys' bedroom.</p> +<p>"I have a friend coming pretty soon, Mrs. Pitman," he said, "a +young newspaper man, named Howell. He's a nice boy, and if there is +anything to this, I'd like him to have it for his paper. He and I +have been having some arguments about circumstantial evidence, too, +and I know he'd like to work on this."</p> +<p>I gave him a pair of Mr. Pitman's socks, for his own were +saturated, and while he was changing them the telephone rang. It +was the theater again, asking for Jennie Brice.</p> +<p>"You are certain she is out of the city?" some one asked, the +same voice as in the morning.</p> +<p>"Her husband says so."</p> +<p>"Ask him to come to the phone."</p> +<p>"He is not here."</p> +<p>"When do you expect him back?"</p> +<p>"I'm not sure he is coming back."</p> +<p>"Look here," said the voice angrily, "can't you give me any +satisfaction? Or don't you care to?"</p> +<p>"I've told you all I know."</p> +<p>"You don't know where she is?"</p> +<p>"No, sir."</p> +<p>"She didn't say she was coming back to rehearse for next week's +piece?"</p> +<p>"Her husband said she went away for a few days' rest. He went +away about noon and hasn't come back. That's all I know, except +that they owe me three weeks' rent that I'd like to get hold +of."</p> +<p>The owner of the voice hung up the receiver with a snap, and +left me pondering. It seemed to me that Mr. Ladley had been very +reckless. Did he expect any one to believe that Jennie Brice had +gone for a vacation without notifying the theater? Especially when +she was to rehearse that week? I thought it curious, to say the +least. I went back and told Mr. Holcombe, who put it down in his +note-book, and together we went to the Ladleys' room.</p> +<p>The room was in better order than usual, as I have said. The bed +was made—which was out of the ordinary, for Jennie Brice +never made a bed—but made the way a man makes one, with the +blankets wrinkled and crooked beneath, and the white counterpane +pulled smoothly over the top, showing every lump beneath. I showed +Mr. Holcombe the splasher, dotted with ink as usual.</p> +<p>"I'll take it off and soak it in milk," I said. "It's his +fountain pen; when the ink doesn't run, he shakes it, +and—"</p> +<p>"Where's the clock?" said Mr. Holcombe, stopping in front of the +mantel with his note-book in his hand.</p> +<p>"The clock?"</p> +<p>I turned and looked. My onyx clock was gone from the +mantel-shelf.</p> +<p>Perhaps it seems strange, but from the moment I missed that +clock my rage at Mr. Ladley increased to a fury. It was all I had +had left of my former gentility. When times were hard and I got +behind with the rent, as happened now and then, more than once I'd +been tempted to sell the clock, or to pawn it. But I had never done +it. Its ticking had kept me company on many a lonely night, and its +elegance had helped me to keep my pride and to retain the respect +of my neighbors. For in the flood district onyx clocks are not +plentiful. Mrs. Bryan, the saloon-keeper's wife, had one, and I had +another. That is, I <i>had</i> had.</p> +<p>I stood staring at the mark in the dust of the mantel-shelf, +which Mr. Holcombe was measuring with a pocket tape-measure.</p> +<p>"You are sure you didn't take it away yourself, Mrs. Pitman?" he +asked.</p> +<p>"Sure? Why, I could hardly lift it," I said.</p> +<p>He was looking carefully at the oblong of dust where the clock +had stood. "The key is gone, too," he said, busily making entries +in his note-book. "What was the maker's name?"</p> +<p>"Why, I don't think I ever noticed."</p> +<p>He turned to me angrily. "Why didn't you notice?" he snapped. +"Good God, woman, do you only use your eyes to cry with? How can +you wind a clock, time after time, and not know the maker's name? +It proves my contention: the average witness is totally +unreliable."</p> +<p>"Not at all," I snapped, "I am ordinarily both accurate and +observing."</p> +<p>"Indeed!" he said, putting his hands behind him. "Then perhaps +you can tell me the color of the pencil I have been writing +with."</p> +<p>"Certainly. Red." Most pencils are red, and I thought this was +safe.</p> +<p>But he held his right hand out with a flourish. "I've been +writing with a fountain pen," he said in deep disgust, and turned +his back on me.</p> +<p>But the next moment he had run to the wash-stand and pulled it +out from the wall. Behind it, where it had fallen, lay a towel, +covered with stains, as if some one had wiped bloody hands on it. +He held it up, his face working with excitement. I could only cover +my eyes.</p> +<p>"This looks better," he said, and began making a quick search of +the room, running from one piece of furniture to another, pulling +out bureau drawers, drawing the bed out from the wall, and crawling +along the base-board with a lighted match in his hand. He gave a +shout of triumph finally, and reappeared from behind the bed with +the broken end of my knife in his hand.</p> +<p>"Very clumsy," he said. "<i>Very</i> clumsy. Peter the dog could +have done better."</p> +<p>I had been examining the wall-paper about the wash-stand. Among +the ink-spots were one or two reddish ones that made me shiver. And +seeing a scrap of note-paper stuck between the base-board and the +wall, I dug it out with a hairpin, and threw it into the grate, to +be burned later. It was by the merest chance there was no fire +there. The next moment Mr. Holcombe was on his knees by the +fireplace reaching for the scrap.</p> +<p>"<i>Never</i> do that, under such circumstances," he snapped, +fishing among the ashes. "You might throw away +valuable—Hello, Howell!"</p> +<p>I turned and saw a young man in the doorway, smiling, his hat in +his hand. Even at that first glance, I liked Mr. Howell, and later, +when every one was against him, and many curious things were +developing, I stood by him through everything, and even helped him +to the thing he wanted more than anything else in the, world. But +that, of course, was later.</p> +<p>"What's the trouble, Holcombe?" he asked. "Hitting the trail +again?"</p> +<p>"A very curious thing that I just happened on," said Mr. +Holcombe. "Mrs. Pitman, this is Mr. Howell, of whom I spoke. Sit +down, Howell, and let me read you something."</p> +<p>With the crumpled paper still unopened in his hand, Mr. Holcombe +took his note-book and read aloud what he had written. I have it +before me now:</p> +<p>"'Dog meat, two dollars, boat hire'—that's not it. Here. +'Yesterday, Sunday, March the 4th, Mrs. Pitman, landlady at 42 +Union Street, heard two of her boarders quarreling, a man and his +wife. Man's name, Philip Ladley. Wife's name, Jennie Ladley, known +as Jennie Brice at the Liberty Stock Company, where she has been +playing small parts.'"</p> +<p>Mr. Howell nodded. "I've heard of her," he said. "Not much of an +actress, I believe."</p> +<p>"'The husband was also an actor, out of work, and employing his +leisure time in writing a play.'"</p> +<p>"Everybody's doing it," said Mr. Howell idly.</p> +<p>"The Shuberts were to star him in this," I put in. "He said that +the climax at the end of the second act—"</p> +<p>Mr. Holcombe shut his note-book with a snap. "After we have +finished gossiping," he said, "I'll go on."</p> +<p>"'Employing his leisure time in writing a play—'" quoted +Mr. Howell.</p> +<p>"Exactly. 'The husband and wife were not on good terms. They +quarreled frequently. On Sunday they fought all day, and Mrs. +Ladley told Mrs. Pitman she was married to a fiend. At four o'clock +Sunday afternoon, Philip Ladley went out, returning about five. +Mrs. Pitman carried their supper to them at six, and both ate +heartily. She did not see Mrs. Ladley at the time, but heard her in +the next room. They were apparently reconciled: Mrs. Pitman reports +Mr. Ladley in high good humor. If the quarrel recommenced during +the night, the other boarder, named Reynolds, in the next room, +heard nothing. Mrs. Pitman was up and down until one o'clock, when +she dozed off. She heard no unusual sound.</p> +<p>"'At approximately two o'clock in the morning, however, this +Reynolds came to the room, and said he had heard some one in a boat +in the lower hall. He and Mrs. Pitman investigated. The boat which +Mrs. Pitman uses during a flood, and which she had tied to the +stair-rail, was gone, having been cut loose, not untied. Everything +else was quiet, except that Mrs. Ladley's dog had been shut in a +third-story room.</p> +<p>"'At a quarter after four that morning Mrs. Pitman, thoroughly +awake, heard the boat returning, and going to the stairs, met +Ladley coming in. He muttered something about having gone for +medicine for his wife and went to his room, shutting the dog out. +This is worth attention, for the dog ordinarily slept in their +room.'"</p> +<p>"What sort of a dog?" asked Mr. Howell. He had been listening +attentively.</p> +<p>"A water-spaniel. 'The rest of the night, or early morning, was +quiet. At a quarter after seven, Ladley asked for coffee and toast +for one, and on Mrs. Pitman remarking this, said that his wife was +not playing this week, and had gone for a few days' vacation, +having left early in the morning.' Remember, during the night he +had been out for medicine for her. Now she was able to travel, and, +in fact, had started."</p> +<p>Mr. Howell was frowning at the floor. "If he was doing anything +wrong, he was doing it very badly," he said.</p> +<p>"This is where I entered the case," said Mr. Holcombe, "I rowed +into the lower hall this morning, to feed the dog, Peter, who was +whining on the staircase. Mrs. Pitman was coming down, pale and +agitated over the fact that the dog, shortly before, had found +floating in the parlor down-stairs a slipper belonging to Mrs. +Ladley, and, later, a knife with a broken blade. She maintains that +she had the knife last night up-stairs, that it was not broken, and +that it was taken from a shelf in her room while she dozed. The +question is, then: Why was the knife taken? Who took it? And why? +Has this man made away with his wife, or has he not?"</p> +<p>Mr. Howell looked at me and smiled. "Mr. Holcombe and I are old +enemies," he said. "Mr. Holcombe believes that circumstantial +evidence may probably hang a man; I do not." And to Mr. Holcombe: +"So, having found a wet slipper and a broken knife, you are +prepared for murder and sudden death!"</p> +<p>"I have more evidence," Mr. Holcombe said eagerly, and proceeded +to tell what we had found in the room. Mr. Howell listened, smiling +to himself, but at the mention of the onyx clock he got up and went +to the mantel.</p> +<p>"By Jove!" he said, and stood looking at the mark in the dust. +"Are you sure the clock was here yesterday?"</p> +<p>"I wound it night before last, and put the key underneath. +Yesterday, before they moved up, I wound it again."</p> +<p>"The key is gone also. Well, what of it, Holcombe? Did he brain +her with the clock? Or choke her with the key?"</p> +<p>Mr. Holcombe was looking at his note-book. "To summarize," he +said, "we have here as clues indicating a crime, the rope, the +broken knife, the slipper, the towel, and the clock. Besides, this +scrap of paper may contain some information." He opened it and sat +gazing at it in his palm. Then, "Is this Ladley's writing?" he +asked me in a curious voice.</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>I glanced at the slip. Mr. Holcombe had just read from his +note-book: "Rope, knife, slipper, towel, clock."</p> +<p>The slip I had found behind the wash-stand said "Rope, knife, +shoe, towel. Horn—" The rest of the last word was torn +off.</p> +<p>Mr. Howell was staring at the mantel. "Clock!" he repeated.</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<a name="CH4"><!-- CH4 --></a> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<p>It was after four when Mr. Holcombe had finished going over the +room. I offered to make both the gentlemen some tea, for Mr. Pitman +had been an Englishman, and I had got into the habit of having a +cup in the afternoon, with a cracker or a bit of bread. But they +refused. Mr. Howell said he had promised to meet a lady, and to +bring her through the flooded district in a boat. He shook hands +with me, and smiled at Mr. Holcombe.</p> +<p>"You will have to restrain his enthusiasm, Mrs. Pitman," he +said. "He is a bloodhound on the scent. If his baying gets on your +nerves, just send for me." He went down the stairs and stepped into +the boat. "Remember, Holcombe," he called, "every well-constituted +murder has two things: a motive and a corpse. You haven't either, +only a mass of piffling details—"</p> +<p>"If everybody waited until he saw flames, instead of relying on +the testimony of the smoke," Mr. Holcombe snapped, "what would the +fire loss be?"</p> +<p>Mr. Howell poled his boat to the front door, and sitting down, +prepared to row out.</p> +<p>"You are warned, Mrs. Pitman," he called to me. "If he doesn't +find a body to fit the clues, he's quite capable of making one to +fill the demand."</p> +<p>"Horn—" said Mr. Holcombe, looking at the slip again. "The +tail of the 'n' is torn off—evidently only part of a word. +Hornet, Horning, Horner—Mrs. Pitman, will you go with me to +the police station?"</p> +<p>I was more than anxious to go. In fact, I could not bear the +idea of staying alone in the house, with heaven only knows what +concealed in the depths of that muddy flood. I got on my wraps +again, and Mr. Holcombe rowed me out. Peter plunged into the water +to follow, and had to be sent back. He sat on the lower step and +whined. Mr. Holcombe threw him another piece of liver, but he did +not touch it.</p> +<p>We rowed to the corner of Robinson Street and Federal—it +was before Federal Street was raised above the flood +level—and left the boat in charge of a boy there. And we +walked to the police station. On the way Mr. Holcombe questioned me +closely about the events of the morning, and I recalled the +incident of the burned pillow-slip. He made a note of it at once, +and grew very thoughtful.</p> +<p>He left me, however, at the police station. "I'd rather not +appear in this, Mrs. Pitman," he said apologetically, "and I think +better along my own lines. Not that I have anything against the +police; they've done some splendid work. But this case takes +imagination, and the police department deals with facts. We have no +facts yet. What we need, of course, is to have the man detained +until we are sure of our case."</p> +<p>He lifted his hat and turned away, and I went slowly up the +steps to the police station. Living, as I had, in a neighborhood +where the police, like the poor, are always with us, and where the +visits of the patrol wagon are one of those familiar sights that no +amount of repetition enabled any of us to treat with contempt, I +was uncomfortable until I remembered that my grandfather had been +one of the first mayors of the city, and that, if the patrol had +been at my house more than once, the entire neighborhood would +testify that my boarders were usually orderly.</p> +<p>At the door some one touched me on the arm. It was Mr. Holcombe +again.</p> +<p>"I have been thinking it over," he said, "and I believe you'd +better not mention the piece of paper that you found behind the +wash-stand. They might say the whole thing is a hoax."</p> +<p>"Very well," I agreed, and went in.</p> +<p>The police sergeant in charge knew me at once, having stopped at +my house more than once in flood-time for a cup of hot coffee.</p> +<p>"Sit down, Mrs. Pitman," he said. "I suppose you are still +making the best coffee and doughnuts in the city of Allegheny? +Well, what's the trouble in your district? Want an injunction +against the river for trespass?"</p> +<p>"The river has brought me a good bit of trouble," I said. +"I'm—I'm worried, Mr. Sergeant. I think a woman from my house +has been murdered, but I don't know."</p> +<p>"Murdered," he said, and drew up his chair. "Tell me about +it."</p> +<p>I told him everything, while he sat back with his eyes half +closed, and his fingers beating a tattoo on the arm of his +chair.</p> +<p>When I finished he got up and went into an inner room. He came +back in a moment.</p> +<p>"I want you to come in and tell that to the chief," he said, and +led the way.</p> +<p>All told, I repeated my story three times that afternoon, to the +sergeant, to the chief of police, and the third time to both the +others and two detectives.</p> +<p>The second time the chief made notes of what I said.</p> +<p>"Know this man Ladley?" he asked the others. None of them did, +but they all knew of Jennie Brice, and some of them had seen her in +the theater.</p> +<p>"Get the theater, Tom," the chief said to one of the +detectives.</p> +<p>Luckily, what he learned over the telephone from the theater +corroborated my story. Jennie Brice was not in the cast that week, +but should have reported that morning (Monday) to rehearse the next +week's piece. No message had been received from her, and a +substitute had been put in her place.</p> +<p>The chief hung up the receiver and turned to me. "You are sure +about the clock, Mrs. Pitman?" he asked. "It was there when they +moved up-stairs to the room?"</p> +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> +<p>"You are certain you will not find it on the parlor mantel when +the water goes down?"</p> +<p>"The mantels are uncovered now. It is not there."</p> +<p>"You think Ladley has gone for good?"</p> +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> +<p>"He'd be a fool to try to run away, unless—Graves, you'd +better get hold of the fellow, and keep him until either the woman +is found or a body. The river is falling. In a couple of days we +will know if she is around the premises anywhere."</p> +<p>Before I left, I described Jennie Brice for them carefully. +Asked what she probably wore, if she had gone away as her husband +said, I had no idea; she had a lot of clothes, and dressed a good +bit. But I recalled that I had seen, lying on the bed, the black +and white dress with the red collar, and they took that down, as +well as the brown valise.</p> +<p>The chief rose and opened the door for me himself. "If she +actually left town at the time you mention," he said, "she ought +not to be hard to find. There are not many trains before seven in +the morning, and most of them are locals."</p> +<p>"And—and if she did not, if he—do you think she is +in the house—or—or—the cellar?"</p> +<p>"Not unless Ladley is more of a fool than I think he is," he +said, smiling. "Personally, I believe she has gone away, as he says +she did. But if she hasn't—He probably took the body with him +when he said he was getting medicine, and dropped it in the current +somewhere. But we must go slow with all this. There's no use +shouting 'wolf' yet."</p> +<p>"But—the towel?"</p> +<p>"He may have cut himself, shaving. It <i>has</i> been done."</p> +<p>"And the knife?"</p> +<p>He shrugged his shoulders good-naturedly.</p> +<p>"I've seen a perfectly good knife spoiled opening a bottle of +pickles."</p> +<p>"But the slippers? And the clock?"</p> +<p>"My good woman, enough shoes and slippers are forgotten in the +bottoms of cupboards year after year in flood-time, and are found +floating around the streets, to make all the old-clothesmen in town +happy. I have seen almost everything floating about, during one of +these annual floods."</p> +<p>"I dare say you never saw an onyx clock floating around," I +replied a little sharply. I had no sense of humor that day. He +stopped smiling at once, and stood tugging at his mustache.</p> +<p>"No," he admitted. "An onyx clock sinks, that's true. That's a +very nice little point, that onyx clock. He may be trying to sell +it, or perhaps—" He did not finish.</p> +<p>I went back immediately, only stopping at the market to get meat +for Mr. Reynolds' supper. It was after half past five and dusk was +coming on. I got a boat and was rowed directly home. Peter was not +at the foot of the steps. I paid the boatman and let him go, and +turned to go up the stairs. Some one was speaking in the hall +above.</p> +<p>I have read somewhere that no two voices are exactly alike, just +as no two violins ever produce precisely the same sound. I think it +is what they call the timbre that is different. I have, for +instance, never heard a voice like Mr. Pitman's, although Mr. Harry +Lauder's in a phonograph resembles it. And voices have always done +for me what odors do for some people, revived forgotten scenes and +old memories. But the memory that the voice at the head of the +stairs brought back was not very old, although I had forgotten it. +I seemed to hear again, all at once, the lapping of the water +Sunday morning as it began to come in over the door-sill; the sound +of Terry ripping up the parlor carpet, and Mrs. Ladley calling me a +she-devil in the next room, in reply to this very voice.</p> +<p>But when I got to the top of the stairs, it was only Mr. Howell, +who had brought his visitor to the flood district, and on getting +her splashed with the muddy water, had taken her to my house for a +towel and a cake of soap.</p> +<p>I lighted the lamp in the hall, and Mr. Howell introduced the +girl. She was a pretty girl, slim and young, and she had taken her +wetting good-naturedly.</p> +<p>"I know we are intruders, Mrs. Pitman," she said, holding out +her hand. "Especially now, when you are in trouble."</p> +<p>"I have told Miss Harvey a little," Mr. Howell said, "and I +promised to show her Peter, but he is not here."</p> +<p>I think I had known it was my sister's child from the moment I +lighted the lamp. There was something of Alma in her, not Alma's +hardness or haughtiness, but Alma's dark blue eyes with black +lashes, and Alma's nose. Alma was always the beauty of the family. +What with the day's excitement, and seeing Alma's child like this, +in my house, I felt things going round and clutched at the +stair-rail. Mr. Howell caught me.</p> +<p>"Why, Mrs. Pitman!" he said. "What's the matter?"</p> +<p>I got myself in hand in a moment and smiled at the girl.</p> +<p>"Nothing at all," I said. "Indigestion, most likely. Too much +tea the last day or two, and not enough solid food. I've been too +anxious to eat."</p> +<p>Lida—for she was that to me at once, although I had never +seen her before—Lida was all sympathy and sweetness. She +actually asked me to go with her to a restaurant and have a real +dinner. I could imagine Alma, had she known! But I excused +myself.</p> +<p>"I have to cook something for Mr. Reynolds," I said, "and I'm +better now, anyhow, thank you. Mr. Howell, may I speak to you for a +moment?"</p> +<p>He followed me along the back hall, which was dusk.</p> +<p>"I have remembered something that I had forgotten, Mr. Howell," +I said. "On Sunday morning, the Ladleys had a visitor."</p> +<p>"Yes?"</p> +<p>"They had very few visitors."</p> +<p>"I see."</p> +<p>"I did not see him, but—I heard his voice." Mr. Howell did +not move, but I fancied he drew his breath in quickly. "It +sounded—it was not by any chance <i>you</i>?"</p> +<p>"I? A newspaper man, who goes to bed at three A.M. on Sunday +morning, up and about at ten!"</p> +<p>"I didn't say what time it was," I said sharply.</p> +<p>But at that moment Lida called from the front hall.</p> +<p>"I think I hear Peter," she said. "He is shut in somewhere, +whining."</p> +<p>We went forward at once. She was right. Peter was scratching at +the door of Mr. Ladley's room, although I had left the door closed +and Peter in the hall. I let him out, and he crawled to me on three +legs, whimpering. Mr. Howell bent over him and felt the fourth.</p> +<p>"Poor little beast!" he said. "His leg is broken!"</p> +<p>He made a splint for the dog, and with Lida helping, they put +him to bed in a clothes-basket in my up-stairs kitchen. It was easy +to see how things lay with Mr. Howell. He was all eyes for her: he +made excuses to touch her hand or her arm—little caressing +touches that made her color heighten. And with it all, there was a +sort of hopelessness in his manner, as if he knew how far the girl +was out of his reach. Knowing Alma and her pride, I knew better +than they how hopeless it was.</p> +<p>I was not so sure about Lida. I wondered if she was in love with +the boy, or only in love with love. She was very young, as I had +been. God help her, if, like me, she sacrificed everything, to +discover, too late, that she was only in love with love!</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<a name="CH5"><!-- CH5 --></a> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> +<p>Mr. Reynolds did not come home to dinner after all. The water +had got into the basement at the store, he telephoned, one of the +flood-gates in a sewer having leaked, and they were moving some of +the departments to an upper floor. I had expected to have him in +the house that evening, and now I was left alone again.</p> +<p>But, as it happened, I was not alone. Mr. Graves, one of the +city detectives, came at half past six, and went carefully over the +Ladleys' room. I showed him the towel and the slipper and the +broken knife, and where we had found the knife-blade. He was very +non-committal, and left in a half-hour, taking the articles with +him in a newspaper.</p> +<p>At seven the door-bell rang. I went down as far as I could on +the staircase, and I saw a boat outside the door, with the boatman +and a woman in it. I called to them to bring the boat back along +the hall, and I had a queer feeling that it might be Mrs. Ladley, +and that I'd been making a fool of myself all day for nothing. But +it was not Mrs. Ladley.</p> +<p>"Is this number forty-two?" asked the woman, as the boat came +back.</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"Does Mr. Ladley live here?"</p> +<p>"Yes. But he is not here now."</p> +<p>"Are you Mrs. Pittock?"</p> +<p>"Pitman, yes."</p> +<p>The boat bumped against the stairs, and the woman got out. She +was as tall as Mrs. Ladley, and when I saw her in the light from +the upper hall, I knew her instantly. It was Temple Hope, the +leading woman from the Liberty Theater.</p> +<p>"I would like to talk to you, Mrs. Pitman," she said. "Where can +we go?"</p> +<p>I led the way back to my room, and when she had followed me in, +she turned and shut the door.</p> +<p>"Now then," she said without any preliminary, "where is Jennie +Brice?"</p> +<p>"I don't know, Miss Hope," I answered.</p> +<p>We looked at each other for a minute, and each of us saw what +the other suspected.</p> +<p>"He has killed her!" she exclaimed. "She was afraid he would do +it, and—he has."</p> +<p>"Killed her and thrown her into the river," I said. "That's what +I think, and he'll go free at that. It seems there isn't any murder +when there isn't any corpse."</p> +<p>"Nonsense! If he has done that, the river will give her up, +eventually."</p> +<p>"The river doesn't always give them up," I retorted. "Not in +flood-time, anyhow. Or when they are found it is months later, and +you can't prove anything."</p> +<p>She had only a little time, being due at the theater soon, but +she sat down and told me the story she told afterward on the +stand:</p> +<p>She had known Jennie Brice for years, they having been together +in the chorus as long before as <i>Nadjy</i>.</p> +<p>"She was married then to a fellow on the vaudeville circuit," +Miss Hope said. "He left her about that time, and she took up with +Ladley. I don't think they were ever married."</p> +<p>"What!" I said, jumping to my feet, "and they came to a +respectable house like this! There's never been a breath of scandal +about this house, Miss Hope, and if this comes out I'm ruined."</p> +<p>"Well, perhaps they were married," she said. "Anyhow, they were +always quarreling. And when he wasn't playing, it was worse. She +used to come to my hotel, and cry her eyes out."</p> +<p>"I knew you were friends," I said. "Almost the last thing she +said to me was about the black and white dress of hers you were to +borrow for the piece this week."</p> +<p>"Black and white dress! I borrow one of Jennie Brice's dresses!" +exclaimed Miss Hope. "I should think not. I have plenty of my +own."</p> +<p>That puzzled me; for she had said it, that was sure. And then I +remembered that I had not seen the dress in the room that day, and +I went in to look for it. It was gone. I came back and told Miss +Hope.</p> +<p>"A black and white dress! Did it have a red collar?" she +asked.</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"Then I remember it. She wore a small black hat with a red quill +with that dress. You might look for the hat."</p> +<p>She followed me back to the room and stood in the doorway while +I searched. The hat was gone, too.</p> +<p>"Perhaps, after all, he's telling the truth," she said +thoughtfully. "Her fur coat isn't in the closet, is it?"</p> +<p><i>It</i> was gone. It is strange that, all day, I had never +thought of looking over her clothes and seeing what was missing. I +hadn't known all she had, of course, but I had seen her all winter +in her fur coat and admired it. It was a striped fur, brown and +gray, and very unusual. But with the coat missing, and a dress and +hat gone, it began to look as if I had been making a fool of +myself, and stirring up a tempest in a teacup. Miss Hope was as +puzzled as I was.</p> +<p>"Anyhow, if he didn't kill her," she said, "it isn't because he +did not want to. Only last week she had hysterics in my +dressing-room, and said he had threatened to poison her. It was all +Mr. Bronson, the business manager, and I could do to quiet +her."</p> +<p>She looked at her watch, and exclaimed that she was late, and +would have to hurry. I saw her down to her boat. The river had been +falling rapidly for the last hour or two, and I heard the boat +scrape as it went over the door-sill. I did not know whether to be +glad that the water was going down and I could live like a +Christian again, or to be sorry, for fear of what we might find in +the mud that was always left.</p> +<p>Peter was lying where I had put him, on a folded blanket laid in +a clothes-basket. I went back to him, and sat down beside the +basket.</p> +<p>"Peter!" I said. "Poor old Peter! Who did this to you? Who hurt +you?" He looked at me and whined, as if he wanted to tell me, if +only he could.</p> +<p>"Was it Mr. Ladley?" I asked, and the poor thing cowered close +to his bed and shivered. I wondered if it had been he, and, if it +had, why he had come back. Perhaps he had remembered the towel. +Perhaps he would come again and spend the night there. I was like +Peter: I cowered and shivered at the very thought.</p> +<p>At nine o'clock I heard a boat at the door. It had stuck there, +and its occupant was scolding furiously at the boatman. Soon after +I heard splashing, and I knew that whoever it was was wading back +to the stairs through the foot and a half or so of water still in +the hall. I ran back to my room and locked myself in, and then +stood, armed with the stove-lid-lifter, in case it should be Ladley +and he should break the door in.</p> +<p>The steps came up the stairs, and Peter barked furiously. It +seemed to me that this was to be my end, killed like a rat in a +trap and thrown out the window, to float, like my kitchen chair, +into Mollie Maguire's kitchen, or to be found lying in the ooze of +the yard after the river had gone down.</p> +<p>The steps hesitated at the top of the stairs, and turned back +along the hall. Peter redoubled his noise; he never barked for Mr. +Reynolds or the Ladleys. I stood still, hardly able to breathe. The +door was thin, and the lock loose: one good blow, and—</p> +<p>The door-knob turned, and I screamed. I recall that the light +turned black, and that is all I <i>do</i> remember, until I came +to, a half-hour later, and saw Mr. Holcombe stooping over me. The +door, with the lock broken, was standing open. I tried to move, and +then I saw that my feet were propped up on the edge of Peter's +basket.</p> +<p>"Better leave them up." Mr. Holcombe said. "It sends the blood +back to the head. Half the damfool people in the world stick a +pillow under a fainting woman's shoulders. How are you now?"</p> +<p>"All right," I said feebly. "I thought you were Mr. Ladley."</p> +<p>He helped me up, and I sat in a chair and tried to keep my lips +from shaking. And then I saw that Mr. Holcombe had brought a suit +case with him, and had set it inside the door.</p> +<p>"Ladley is safe, until he gets bail, anyhow," he said. "They +picked him up as he was boarding a Pennsylvania train bound +east."</p> +<p>"For murder?" I asked.</p> +<p>"As a suspicious character," he replied grimly. "That does as +well as anything for a time." He sat down opposite me, and looked +at me intently.</p> +<p>"Mrs. Pitman," he said, "did you ever hear the story of the +horse that wandered out of a village and could not be found?"</p> +<p>I shook my head.</p> +<p>"Well, the best wit of the village failed to locate the horse. +But one day the village idiot walked into town, leading the missing +animal by the bridle. When they asked him how he had done it, he +said: 'Well, I just thought what I'd do if I was a horse, and then +I went and did it.'"</p> +<p>"I see," I said, humoring him.</p> +<p>"You <i>don't</i> see. Now, what are we trying to do?"</p> +<p>"We're trying to find a body. Do you intend to become a +corpse?"</p> +<p>He leaned over and tapped on the table between us. "We are +trying to prove a crime. I intend for the time to be the +criminal."</p> +<p>He looked so curious, bent forward and glaring at me from under +his bushy eyebrows, with his shoes on his knee—for he had +taken them off to wade to the stairs—and his trousers rolled +to his knees, that I wondered if he was entirely sane. But Mr. +Holcombe, eccentric as he might be, was sane enough.</p> +<p>"Not <i>really</i> a criminal!"</p> +<p>"As really as lies in me. Listen, Mrs. Pitman. I want to put +myself in Ladley's place for a day or two, live as he lived, do +what he did, even think as he thought, if I can. I am going to +sleep in his room to-night, with your permission."</p> +<p>I could not see any reason for objecting, although I thought it +silly and useless. I led the way to the front room, Mr. Holcombe +following with his shoes and suit case. I lighted a lamp, and he +stood looking around him.</p> +<p>"I see you have been here since we left this afternoon," he +said.</p> +<p>"Twice," I replied. "First with Mr. Graves, and +later—"</p> +<p>The words died on my tongue. Some one had been in the room since +my last visit there.</p> +<p>"He has been here!" I gasped. "I left the room in tolerable +order. Look at it!"</p> +<p>"When were you here last?"</p> +<p>"At seven-thirty, or thereabouts."</p> +<p>"Where were you between seven-thirty and eight-thirty?"</p> +<p>"In the kitchen with Peter." I told him then about the dog, and +about finding him shut in the room.</p> +<p>The wash-stand was pulled out. The sheets of Mr. Ladley's +manuscript, usually an orderly pile, were half on the floor. The +bed coverings had been jerked off and flung over the back of a +chair.</p> +<p>Peter, imprisoned, <i>might</i> have moved the wash-stand and +upset the manuscript—Peter had never put the bed-clothing +over the chair, or broken his own leg.</p> +<p>"Humph!" he said, and getting out his note-book, he made an +exact memorandum of what I had told him, and of the condition of +the room. That done, he turned to me.</p> +<p>"Mrs. Pitman," he said, "I'll thank you to call me Mr. Ladley +for the next day or so. I am an actor out of employment, forty-one +years of age, short, stout, and bald, married to a woman I would +like to be quit of, and I am writing myself a play in which the +Shuberts intend to star me, or in which I intend the Shuberts to +star me."</p> +<p>"Very well, Mr. Ladley," I said, trying to enter into the spirit +of the thing, and, God knows, seeing no humor in it. "Then you'll +like your soda from the ice-box?"</p> +<p>"Soda? For what?"</p> +<p>"For your whisky and soda, before you go to bed, sir."</p> +<p>"Oh, certainly, yes. Bring the soda. And—just a moment, +Mrs. Pitman: Mr. Holcombe is a total abstainer, and has always been +so. It is Ladley, not Holcombe, who takes this abominable +stuff."</p> +<p>I said I quite understood, but that Mr. Ladley could skip a +night, if he so wished. But the little gentleman would not hear to +it, and when I brought the soda, poured himself a double portion. +He stood looking at it, with his face screwed up, as if the very +odor revolted him.</p> +<p>"The chances are," he said, "that Ladley—that +I—having a nasty piece of work to do during the night, +would—will take a larger drink than usual." He raised the +glass, only to put it down. "Don't forget," he said, "to put a +large knife where you left the one last night. I'm sorry the water +has gone down, but I shall imagine it still at the seventh step. +Good night, Mrs. Pitman."</p> +<p>"Good night, Mr. Ladley," I said, smiling, "and remember, you +are three weeks in arrears with your board."</p> +<p>His eyes twinkled through his spectacles. "I shall imagine it +paid," he said.</p> +<p>I went out, and I heard him close the door behind me. Then, +through the door, I heard a great sputtering and coughing, and I +knew he had got the whisky down somehow. I put the knife out, as he +had asked me to, and went to bed. I was ready to drop. Not even the +knowledge that an imaginary Mr. Ladley was about to commit an +imaginary crime in the house that night could keep me awake.</p> +<p>Mr. Reynolds came in at eleven o'clock. I was roused when he +banged his door. That was all I knew until morning. The sun on my +face wakened me. Peter, in his basket, lifted his head as I moved, +and thumped his tail against his pillow in greeting. I put on a +wrapper, and called Mr. Reynolds by knocking at his door. Then I +went on to the front room. The door was closed, and some one beyond +was groaning. My heart stood still, and then raced on. I opened the +door and looked in.</p> +<p>Mr. Holcombe was on the bed, fully dressed. He had a wet towel +tied around his head, and his face looked swollen and puffy. He +opened one eye and looked at me.</p> +<p>"What a night!" he groaned.</p> +<p>"What happened! What did you find?"</p> +<p>He groaned again. "Find!" he said. "Nothing, except that there +was something wrong with that whisky. It poisoned me. I haven't +been out of the house!"</p> +<p>So for that day, at least, Mr. Ladley became Mr. Holcombe again, +and as such accepted ice in quantities, a mustard plaster over his +stomach, and considerable nursing. By evening he was better, but +although he clearly intended to stay on, he said nothing about +changing his identity again, and I was glad enough. The very name +of Ladley was horrible to me.</p> +<p>The river went down almost entirely that day, although there was +still considerable water in the cellars. It takes time to get rid +of that. The lower floors showed nothing suspicious. The papers +were ruined, of course, the doors warped and sprung, and the floors +coated with mud and debris. Terry came in the afternoon, and +together we hung the dining-room rug out to dry in the sun.</p> +<p>As I was coming in, I looked over at the Maguire yard. Molly +Maguire was there, and all her children around her, gaping. Molly +was hanging out to dry a sodden fur coat, that had once been +striped, brown and gray.</p> +<p>I went over after breakfast and claimed the coat as belonging to +Mrs. Ladley. But she refused to give it up. There is a sort of +unwritten law concerning the salvage of flood articles, and I had +to leave the coat, as I had my kitchen chair. But it was Mrs. +Ladley's, beyond a doubt.</p> +<p>I shuddered when I thought how it had probably got into the +water. And yet it was curious, too, for if she had had it on, how +did it get loose to go floating around Molly Maguire's yard? And if +she had not worn it, how did it get in the water?</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<a name="CH6"><!-- CH6 --></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<p>The newspapers were full of the Ladley case, with its curious +solution and many surprises. It was considered unique in many ways. +Mr. Pitman had always read all the murder trials, and used to talk +about the <i>corpus delicti</i> and writs of <i>habeas +corpus</i>—<i>corpus</i> being the legal way, I believe, of +spelling corpse. But I came out of the Ladley trial—for it +came to trial ultimately—with only one point of law that I +was sure of: that was, that it is mighty hard to prove a man a +murderer unless you can show what he killed.</p> +<p>And that was the weakness in the Ladley case. There was a body, +but it could not be identified.</p> +<p>The police held Mr. Ladley for a day or two, and then, nothing +appearing, they let him go. Mr. Holcombe, who was still occupying +the second floor front, almost wept with rage and despair when he +read the news in the papers. He was still working on the case, in +his curious way, wandering along the wharves at night, and writing +letters all over the country to learn about Philip Ladley's +previous life, and his wife's. But he did not seem to get +anywhere.</p> +<p>The newspapers had been full of the Jennie Brice disappearance. +For disappearance it proved to be. So far as could be learned, she +had not left the city that night, or since, and as she was a +striking-looking woman, very blond, as I have said, with a full +voice and a languid manner, she could hardly have taken refuge +anywhere without being discovered. The morning after her +disappearance a young woman, tall like Jennie Brice and fair, had +been seen in the Union Station. But as she was accompanied by a +young man, who bought her magazines and papers, and bade her an +excited farewell, sending his love to various members of a family, +and promising to feed the canary, this was not seriously +considered. A sort of general alarm went over the country. When she +was younger she had been pretty well known at the Broadway theaters +in New York. One way or another, the Liberty Theater got a lot of +free advertising from the case, and I believe Miss Hope's salary +was raised.</p> +<p>The police communicated with Jennie Brice's people—she had +a sister in Olean, New York, but she had not heard from her. The +sister wrote—I heard later—that Jennie had been unhappy +with Philip Ladley, and afraid he would kill her. And Miss Hope +told the same story. But—there was no <i>corpus</i>, as the +lawyers say, and finally the police had to free Mr. Ladley.</p> +<p>Beyond making an attempt to get bail, and failing, he had done +nothing. Asked about his wife, he merely shrugged his shoulders and +said she had left him, and would turn up all right. He was +unconcerned: smoked cigarettes all day, ate and slept well, and +looked better since he had had nothing to drink. And two or three +days after the arrest, he sent for the manuscript of his play.</p> +<p>Mr. Howell came for it on the Thursday of that week.</p> +<p>I was on my knees scrubbing the parlor floor, when he rang the +bell. I let him in, and it seemed to me that he looked tired and +pale.</p> +<p>"Well, Mrs. Pitman," he said, smiling, "what did you find in the +cellar when the water went down?"</p> +<p>"I'm glad to say that I didn't find what I feared, Mr. +Howell."</p> +<p>"Not even the onyx clock?"</p> +<p>"Not even the clock," I replied. "And I feel as if I'd lost a +friend. A clock is a lot of company."</p> +<p>"Do you know what I think?" he said, looking at me closely. "I +think you put that clock away yourself, in the excitement, and have +forgotten all about it."</p> +<p>"Nonsense."</p> +<p>"Think hard." He was very much in earnest. "You knew the water +was rising and the Ladleys would have to be moved up to the second +floor front, where the clock stood. You went in there and looked +around to see if the room was ready, and you saw the clock. And +knowing that the Ladleys quarreled now and then, and were apt to +throw things—"</p> +<p>"Nothing but a soap-dish, and that only once."</p> +<p>"—you took the clock to the attic and put it, say, in an +old trunk."</p> +<p>"I did nothing of the sort. I went in, as you say, and I put up +an old splasher, because of the way he throws ink about. Then I +wound the clock, put the key under it, and went out."</p> +<p>"And the key is gone, too!" he said thoughtfully. "I wish I +could find that clock, Mrs. Pitman."</p> +<p>"So do I."</p> +<p>"Ladley went out Sunday afternoon about three, didn't +he—and got back at five?"</p> +<p>I turned and looked at him. "Yes, Mr. Howell," I said. "Perhaps +<i>you</i> know something about that."</p> +<p>"I?" He changed color. Twenty years of dunning boarders has made +me pretty sharp at reading faces, and he looked as uncomfortable as +if he owed me money. "I!" I knew then that I had been right about +the voice. It had been his.</p> +<p>"You!" I retorted. "You were here Sunday morning and spent some +time with the Ladleys. I am the old she-devil. I notice you didn't +tell your friend, Mr. Holcombe, about having been here on +Sunday."</p> +<p>He was quick to recover. "I'll tell you all about it, Mrs. +Pitman," he said smilingly. "You see, all my life, I have wished +for an onyx clock. It has been my ambition, my <i>Great Desire</i>. +Leaving the house that Sunday morning, and hearing the ticking of +the clock up-stairs, I recognized that it was an <i>onyx</i> clock, +clambered from my boat through an upper window, and so reached it. +The clock showed fight, but after stunning it with a +chair—"</p> +<p>"Exactly!" I said. "Then the thing Mrs. Ladley said she would +not do was probably to wind the clock?"</p> +<p>He dropped his bantering manner at once. "Mrs. Pitman," he said, +"I don't know what you heard or did not hear. But I want you to +give me a little time before you tell anybody that I was here that +Sunday morning. And, in return, I'll find your clock."</p> +<p>I hesitated, but however put out he was, he didn't look like a +criminal. Besides, he was a friend of my niece's, and blood is +thicker even than flood-water.</p> +<p>"There was nothing wrong about my being here," he went on, +"but—I don't want it known. Don't spoil a good story, Mrs. +Pitman."</p> +<p>I did not quite understand that, although those who followed the +trial carefully may do so. Poor Mr. Howell! I am sure he believed +that it was only a good story. He got the description of my onyx +clock and wrote it down, and I gave him the manuscript for Mr. +Ladley. That was the last I saw of him for some time.</p> +<p>That Thursday proved to be an exciting day. For late in the +afternoon Terry, digging the mud out of the cellar, came across my +missing gray false front near the coal vault, and brought it up, +grinning. And just before six, Mr. Graves, the detective, rang the +bell and then let himself in. I found him in the lower hall, +looking around.</p> +<p>"Well, Mrs. Pitman," he said, "has our friend come back +yet?"</p> +<p>"She was no friend of mine."</p> +<p>"Not <i>she</i>. Ladley. He'll be out this evening, and he'll +probably be around for his clothes."</p> +<p>I felt my knees waver, as they always did when he was spoken +of.</p> +<p>"He may want to stay here," said Mr. Graves. "In fact, I think +that's just what he <i>will</i> want."</p> +<p>"Not here," I protested. "The very thought of him makes me +quake."</p> +<p>"If he comes here, better take him in. I want to know where he +is."</p> +<p>I tried to say that I wouldn't have him, but the old habit of +the ward asserted itself. From taking a bottle of beer or a slice +of pie, to telling one where one might or might not live, the +police were autocrats in that neighborhood. And, respectable woman +that I am, my neighbors' fears of the front office have infected +me.</p> +<p>"All right, Mr. Graves," I said.</p> +<p>He pushed the parlor door open and looked in, whistling. "This +is the place, isn't it?"</p> +<p>"Yes. But it was up-stairs that he—"</p> +<p>"I see. Tall woman, Mrs. Ladley?"</p> +<p>"Tall and blond. Very airy in her manner."</p> +<p>He nodded and still stood looking in and whistling. "Never heard +her speak of a town named Horner, did you?"</p> +<p>"Horner? No."</p> +<p>"I see." He turned and wandered out again into the hall, still +whistling. At the door, however, he stopped and turned. "Look +anything like this?" he asked, and held out one of his hands, with +a small kodak picture on the palm.</p> +<p>It was a snap-shot of a children's frolic in a village street, +with some onlookers in the background. Around one of the heads had +been drawn a circle in pencil. I took it to the gas-jet and looked +at it closely. It was a tall woman with a hat on, not unlike Jennie +Brice. She was looking over the crowd, and I could see only her +face, and that in shadow. I shook my head.</p> +<p>"I thought not," he said. "We have a lot of stage pictures of +her, but what with false hair and their being retouched beyond +recognition, they don't amount to much." He started out, and +stopped on the door-step to light a cigar.</p> +<p>"Take him on if he comes," he said. "And keep your eyes open. +Feed him well, and he won't kill you!"</p> +<p>I had plenty to think of when I was cooking Mr. Reynolds' +supper: the chance that I might have Mr. Ladley again, and the +woman at Horner. For it had come to me like a flash, as Mr. Graves +left, that the "Horn—" on the paper slip might have been +"Horner."</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<a name="CH7"><!-- CH7 --></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<p>After all, there was nothing sensational about Mr. Ladley's +return. He came at eight o'clock that night, fresh-shaved and with +his hair cut, and, although he had a latch-key, he rang the +door-bell. I knew his ring, and I thought it no harm to carry an +old razor of Mr. Pitman's with the blade open and folded back on +the handle, the way the colored people use them, in my left +hand.</p> +<p>But I saw at once that he meant no mischief.</p> +<p>"Good evening," he said, and put out his hand. I jumped back, +until I saw there was nothing in it and that he only meant to shake +hands. I didn't do it; I might have to take him in, and make his +bed, and cook his meals, but I did not have to shake hands with +him.</p> +<p>"You, too!" he said, looking at me with what I suppose he meant +to be a reproachful look. But he could no more put an expression of +that sort in his eyes than a fish could. "I suppose, then, there is +no use asking if I may have my old room? The front room. I won't +need two."</p> +<p>I didn't want him, and he must have seen it. But I took him. +"You may have it, as far as I'm concerned," I said. "But you'll +have to let the paper-hanger in to-morrow."</p> +<p>"Assuredly." He came into the hall and stood looking around him, +and I fancied he drew a breath of relief. "It isn't much yet," he +said, "but it's better to look at than six feet of muddy +water."</p> +<p>"Or than stone walls," I said.</p> +<p>He looked at me and smiled. "Or than stone walls," he repeated, +bowing, and went into his room.</p> +<p>So I had him again, and if I gave him only the dull knives, and +locked up the bread-knife the moment I had finished with it, who +can blame me? I took all the precaution I could think of: had Terry +put an extra bolt on every door, and hid the rat poison and the +carbolic acid in the cellar.</p> +<p>Peter would not go near him. He hobbled around on his three +legs, with the splint beating a sort of tattoo on the floor, but he +stayed back in the kitchen with me, or in the yard.</p> +<p>It was Sunday night or early Monday morning that Jennie Brice +disappeared. On Thursday evening, her husband came back. On Friday +the body of a woman was washed ashore at Beaver, but turned out to +be that of a stewardess who had fallen overboard from one of the +Cincinnati packets. Mr. Ladley himself showed me the article in the +morning paper, when I took in his breakfast.</p> +<p>"Public hysteria has killed a man before this," he said, when I +had read it. "Suppose that woman had been mangled, or the screw of +the steamer had cut her head off! How many people do you suppose +would have been willing to swear that it was my—was Mrs. +Ladley?"</p> +<p>"Even without a head, I should know Mrs. Ladley," I +retorted.</p> +<p>He shrugged his shoulders. "Let's trust she's still alive, for +my sake," he said. "But I'm glad, anyhow, that this woman had a +head. You'll allow me to be glad, won't you?"</p> +<p>"You can be anything you want, as far as I'm concerned," I +snapped, and went out.</p> +<p>Mr. Holcombe still retained the second-story front room. I +think, although he said nothing more about it, that he was still +"playing horse." He wrote a good bit at the wash-stand, and, from +the loose sheets of manuscript he left, I believe actually tried to +begin a play. But mostly he wandered along the water-front, or +stood on one or another of the bridges, looking at the water and +thinking. It is certain that he tried to keep in the part by +smoking cigarettes, but he hated them, and usually ended by +throwing the cigarette away and lighting an old pipe he +carried.</p> +<p>On that Thursday evening he came home and sat down to supper +with Mr. Reynolds. He ate little and seemed much excited. The talk +ran on crime, as it always did when he was around, and Mr. Holcombe +quoted Spencer a great deal—Herbert Spencer. Mr. Reynolds was +impressed, not knowing much beyond silks and the National +League.</p> +<p>"Spencer," Mr. Holcombe would say—"Spencer shows that +every occurrence is the inevitable result of what has gone before, +and carries in its train an equally inevitable series of results. +Try to interrupt this chain in the smallest degree, and what +follows? Chaos, my dear sir, chaos."</p> +<p>"We see that at the store," Mr. Reynolds would say. "Accustom a +lot of women to a silk sale on Fridays and then make it +toothbrushes. That's chaos, all right."</p> +<p>Well, Mr. Holcombe came in that night about ten o'clock, and I +told him Ladley was back. He was almost wild with excitement; +wanted to have the back parlor, so he could watch him through the +keyhole, and was terribly upset when I told him there was no +keyhole, that the door fastened with a thumb bolt. On learning that +the room was to be papered the next morning, he grew calmer, +however, and got the paper-hanger's address from me. He went out +just after that.</p> +<p>Friday, as I say, was very quiet. Mr. Ladley moved to the back +parlor to let the paper-hanger in the front room, smoked and fussed +with his papers all day, and Mr. Holcombe stayed in his room, which +was unusual. In the afternoon Molly Maguire put on the striped fur +coat and went out, going slowly past the house so that I would be +sure to see her. Beyond banging the window down, I gave her no +satisfaction.</p> +<p>At four o'clock Mr. Holcombe came to my kitchen, rubbing his +hands together. He had a pasteboard tube in his hand about a foot +long, with an arrangement of small mirrors in it. He said it was +modeled after the something or other that is used on a submarine, +and that he and the paper-hanger had fixed a place for it between +his floor and the ceiling of Mr. Ladley's room, so that the +chandelier would hide it from below. He thought he could watch Mr. +Ladley through it; and as it turned out, he could.</p> +<p>"I want to find his weak moment," he said excitedly. "I want to +know what he does when the door is closed and he can take off his +mask. And I want to know if he sleeps with a light."</p> +<p>"If he does," I replied, "I hope you'll let me know, Mr. +Holcombe. The gas bills are a horror to me as it is. I think he +kept it on all last night. I turned off all the other lights and +went to the cellar. The meter was going around."</p> +<p>"Fine!" he said. "Every murderer fears the dark. And our friend +of the parlor bedroom is a murderer, Mrs. Pitman. Whether he hangs +or not, he's a murderer."</p> +<p>The mirror affair, which Mr. Holcombe called a periscope, was +put in that day and worked amazingly well. I went with him to try +it out, and I distinctly saw the paper-hanger take a cigarette from +Mr. Ladley's case and put it in his pocket. Just after that, Mr. +Ladley sauntered into the room and looked at the new paper. I could +both see and hear him. It was rather weird.</p> +<p>"God, what a wall-paper!" he said.</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<a name="CH8"><!-- CH8 --></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<p>That was Friday afternoon. All that evening, and most of +Saturday and Sunday, Mr. Holcombe sat on the floor, with his eye to +the reflecting mirror and his note-book beside him. I have it +before me.</p> +<p>On the first page is the "dog meat—two dollars" entry. On +the next, the description of what occurred on Sunday night, March +fourth, and Monday morning, the fifth. Following that came a +sketch, made with a carbon sheet, of the torn paper found behind +the wash-stand:</p> +<br> +<p style="text-align: center;"><img style= +"width: 384px; height: 361px;" alt="Torn Paper" src= +"images/jb001.jpg"></p> +<p>And then came the entries for Friday, Saturday and Sunday. +Friday evening:</p> +<p>6:30—Eating hearty supper.</p> +<p>7:00—Lights cigarette and paces floor. Notice that when +Mrs. P. knocks, he goes to desk and pretends to be writing.</p> +<p>8:00—Is examining book. Looks like a railway guide.</p> +<p>8:30—It is a steamship guide.</p> +<p>8:45—Tailor's boy brings box. Gives boy fifty cents. +Query. Where does he get money, now that J.B. is gone?</p> +<p>9:00—Tries on new suit, brown.</p> +<p>9:30—Has been spending a quarter of an hour on his knees +looking behind furniture and examining base-board.</p> +<p>10:00—He has the key to the onyx clock. Has hidden it +twice, once up the chimney flue, once behind base-board.</p> +<p>10:15—He has just thrown key or similar small article +outside window into yard.</p> +<p>11:00—Has gone to bed. Light burning. Shall sleep here on +floor.</p> +<p>11:30—He can not sleep. Is up walking the floor and +smoking.</p> +<p>2:00 A.M.—Saturday. Disturbance below. He had had +nightmare and was calling "Jennie!" He got up, took a drink, and is +now reading.</p> +<p>8:00 A.M.—Must have slept. He is shaving.</p> +<p>12:00 M.—Nothing this morning. He wrote for four hours, +sometimes reading aloud what he had written.</p> +<p>2:00 P.M.—He has a visitor, a man. Can not hear +all—word now and then. "Llewellyn is the very man." "Devil of +a risk—" "We'll see you through." "Lost the slip—" +"Didn't go to the hotel. She went to a private house." "Eliza +Shaeffer."</p> +<p>Who went to a private house? Jennie Brice?</p> +<p>2:30—Can not hear. Are whispering. The visitor has given +Ladley roll of bills.</p> +<p>4:00—Followed the visitor, a tall man with a pointed +beard. He went to the Liberty Theater. Found it was Bronson, +business manager there. Who is Llewellyn, and who is Eliza +Shaeffer?</p> +<p><a name="note-book"><!-- Note Anchor book --></a>4:15—Had +Mrs. P. bring telephone book: six Llewellyns in the book; no Eliza +Shaeffer. Ladley appears more cheerful since Bronson's visit. He +has bought all the evening papers and is searching for something. +Has not found it.</p> +<p>7:00—Ate well. Have asked Mrs. P. to take my place here, +while I interview the six Llewellyns.</p> +<p>11:00—Mrs. P. reports a quiet evening. He read and smoked. +Has gone to bed. Light burning. Saw five Llewellyns. None of them +knew Bronson or Ladley. Sixth—a lawyer—out at revival +meeting. Went to the church and walked home with him. He knows +something. Acknowledged he knew Bronson. Had met Ladley. Did not +believe Mrs. Ladley dead. Regretted I had not been to the meeting. +Good sermon. Asked me for a dollar for missions.</p> +<p>9:00 A.M.—Sunday. Ladley in bad shape. Apparently been +drinking all night. Can not eat. Sent out early for papers, and has +searched them all. Found entry on second page, stared at it, then +flung the paper away. Have sent out for same paper.</p> +<p>10:00 A.M.—Paper says: "Body of woman washed ashore +yesterday at Sewickley. Much mutilated by flood débris." +Ladley in bed, staring at ceiling. Wonder if he sees tube? He is +ghastly.</p> +<p>That is the last entry in the note-book for that day. Mr. +Holcombe called me in great excitement shortly after ten and showed +me the item. Neither of us doubted for a moment that it was Jennie +Brice who had been found. He started for Sewickley that same +afternoon, and he probably communicated with the police before he +left. For once or twice I saw Mr. Graves, the detective, sauntering +past the house.</p> +<p>Mr. Ladley ate no dinner. He went out at four, and I had Mr. +Reynolds follow him. But they were both back in a half-hour. Mr. +Reynolds reported that Mr. Ladley had bought some headache tablets +and some bromide powders to make him sleep.</p> +<p>Mr. Holcombe came back that evening. He thought the body was +that of Jennie Brice, but the head was gone. He was much depressed, +and did not immediately go back to the periscope. I asked if the +head had been cut off or taken off by a steamer; he was afraid the +latter, as a hand was gone, too.</p> +<p>It was about eleven o'clock that night that the door-bell rang. +It was Mr. Graves, with a small man behind him. I knew the man; he +lived in a shanty-boat not far from my house—a curious affair +with shelves full of dishes and tinware. In the spring he would be +towed up the Monongahela a hundred miles or so and float down, +tying up at different landings and selling his wares. Timothy Senft +was his name. We called him Tim.</p> +<p>Mr. Graves motioned me to be quiet. Both of us knew that behind +the parlor door Ladley was probably listening.</p> +<p>"Sorry to get you up, Mrs. Pitman," said Mr. Graves, "but this +man says he has bought beer here to-day. That won't do, Mrs. +Pitman."</p> +<p>"Beer! I haven't such a thing in the house. Come in and look," I +snapped. And the two of them went back to the kitchen.</p> +<p>"Now," said Mr. Graves, when I had shut the door, "where's the +dog's-meat man?"</p> +<p>"Up-stairs."</p> +<p>"Bring him quietly."</p> +<p>I called Mr. Holcombe, and he came eagerly, note-book and all. +"Ah!" he said, when he saw Tim. "So you've turned up!"</p> +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> +<p>"It seems, Mr. Dog's—Mr. Holcombe," said Mr. Graves, "that +you are right, partly, anyhow. Tim here <i>did</i> help a man with +a boat that night—"</p> +<p>"Threw him a rope, sir," Tim broke in. "He'd got out in the +current, and what with the ice, and his not knowing much about a +boat, he'd have kept on to New Orleans if I hadn't caught +him—or Kingdom Come."</p> +<p>"Exactly. And what time did you say this was?"</p> +<p>"Between three and four last Sunday night—or Monday +morning. He said he couldn't sleep and went out in a boat, meaning +to keep in close to shore. But he got drawn out in the +current."</p> +<p>"Where did you see him first?"</p> +<p>"By the Ninth Street bridge."</p> +<p>"Did you hail him?"</p> +<p>"He saw my light and hailed me. I was making fast to a coal +barge after one of my ropes had busted."</p> +<p>"You threw the line to him there?"</p> +<p>"No, sir. He tried to work in to shore. I ran along River Avenue +to below the Sixth Street bridge. He got pretty close in there and +I threw him a rope. He was about done up."</p> +<p>"Would you know him again?"</p> +<p>"Yes, sir. He gave me five dollars, and said to say nothing +about it. He didn't want anybody to know he had been such a +fool."</p> +<p>They took him quietly up stairs then and let him look through +the periscope. <i>He identified Mr. Ladley absolutely</i>.</p> +<p>When Tim and Mr. Graves had gone, Mr. Holcombe and I were left +alone in the kitchen. Mr. Holcombe leaned over and patted Peter as +he lay in his basket.</p> +<p>"We've got him, old boy," he said. "The chain is just about +complete. He'll never kick you again."</p> +<p>But Mr. Holcombe was wrong, not about kicking +Peter,—although I don't believe Mr. Ladley ever did that +again,—but in thinking we had him.</p> +<p>I washed that next morning, Monday, but all the time I was +rubbing and starching and hanging out, my mind was with Jennie +Brice. The sight of Molly Maguire, next door, at the window, +rubbing and brushing at the fur coat, only made things worse.</p> +<p>At noon when the Maguire youngsters came home from school, I +bribed Tommy, the youngest, into the kitchen, with the promise of a +doughnut.</p> +<p>"I see your mother has a new fur coat," I said, with the plate +of doughnuts just beyond his reach.</p> +<p>"Yes'm."</p> +<p>"She didn't buy it?"</p> +<p>"She didn't buy it. Say, Mrs. Pitman, gimme that doughnut."</p> +<p>"Oh, so the coat washed in!"</p> +<p>"No'm. Pap found it, down by the Point, on a cake of ice. He +thought it was a dog, and rowed out for it."</p> +<p>Well, I hadn't wanted the coat, as far as that goes; I'd managed +well enough without furs for twenty years or more. But it was a +satisfaction to know that it had not floated into Mrs. Maguire's +kitchen and spread itself at her feet, as one may say. However, +that was not the question, after all. The real issue was that if it +was Jennie Brice's coat, and was found across the river on a cake +of ice, then one of two things was certain: either Jennie Brice's +body wrapped in the coat had been thrown into the water, out in the +current, or she herself, hoping to incriminate her husband, had +flung her coat into the river.</p> +<p>I told Mr. Holcombe, and he interviewed Joe Maguire that +afternoon. The upshot of it was that Tommy had been correctly +informed. Joe had witnesses who had lined up to see him rescue a +dog, and had beheld his return in triumph with a wet and soggy fur +coat. At three o'clock Mrs. Maguire, instructed by Mr. Graves, +brought the coat to me for identification, turning it about for my +inspection, but refusing to take her hands off it.</p> +<p>"If her husband says to me that he wants it back, well and +good," she said, "but I don't give it up to nobody but him. Some +folks I know of would be glad enough to have it."</p> +<p>I was certain it was Jennie Brice's coat, but the maker's name +had been ripped out. With Molly holding one arm and I the other, we +took it to Mr. Ladley's door and knocked. He opened it, +grumbling.</p> +<p>"I have asked you not to interrupt me," he said, with his pen in +his hand. His eyes fell on the coat. "What's that?" he asked, +changing color.</p> +<p>"I think it's Mrs. Ladley's fur coat," I said.</p> +<p>He stood there looking at it and thinking. Then: "It can't be +hers," he said. "She wore hers when she went away."</p> +<p>"Perhaps she dropped it in the water."</p> +<p>He looked at me and smiled. "And why would she do that?" he +asked mockingly. "Was it out of fashion?"</p> +<p>"That's Mrs. Ladley's coat," I persisted, but Molly Maguire +jerked it from me and started away. He stood there looking at me +and smiling in his nasty way.</p> +<p>"This excitement is telling on you, Mrs. Pitman," he said +coolly. "You're too emotional for detective work." Then he went in +and shut the door.</p> +<p>When I went down-stairs, Molly Maguire was waiting in the +kitchen, and had the audacity to ask me if I thought the coat +needed a new lining!</p> +<p>It was on Monday evening that the strangest event in years +happened to me. I went to my sister's house! And the fact that I +was admitted at a side entrance made it even stranger. It happened +in this way:</p> +<p>Supper was over, and I was cleaning up, when an automobile came +to the door. It was Alma's car. The chauffeur gave me a note:</p> +<pre> + "DEAR MRS PITMAN—I am not at all well, and very anxious. Will + you come to see me at once? My mother is out to dinner, and I am + alone. The car will bring you. Cordially, + "LIDA HARVEY." +</pre> +<p>I put on my best dress at once and got into the limousine. Half +the neighborhood was out watching. I leaned back in the upholstered +seat, fairly quivering with excitement. This was Alma's car; that +was Alma's card-case; the little clock had her monogram on it. Even +the flowers in the flower holder, yellow tulips, reminded me of +Alma—a trifle showy, but good to look at! And I was going to +her house!</p> +<p>I was not taken to the main entrance, but to a side door. The +queer dream-like feeling was still there. In this back hall, +relegated from the more conspicuous part of the house, there were +even pieces of furniture from the old home, and my father's +picture, in an oval gilt frame, hung over my head. I had not seen a +picture of him for twenty years. I went over and touched it +gently.</p> +<p>"Father, father!" I said.</p> +<p>Under it was the tall hall chair that I had climbed over as a +child, and had stood on many times, to see myself in the mirror +above. The chair was newly finished and looked the better for its +age. I glanced in the old glass. The chair had stood time better +than I. I was a middle-aged woman, lined with poverty and care, +shabby, prematurely gray, a little hard. I had thought my father an +old man when that picture was taken, and now I was even older. +"Father!" I whispered again, and fell to crying in the dimly +lighted hall.</p> +<p>Lida sent for me at once. I had only time to dry my eyes and +straighten my hat. Had I met Alma on the stairs, I would have +passed her without a word. She would not have known me. But I saw +no one.</p> +<p>Lida was in bed. She was lying there with a rose-shaded lamp +beside her, and a great bowl of spring flowers on a little stand at +her elbow. She sat up when I went in, and had a maid place a chair +for me beside the bed. She looked very childish, with her hair in a +braid on the pillow, and her slim young arms and throat bare.</p> +<p>"I'm so glad you came!" she said, and would not be satisfied +until the light was just right for my eyes, and my coat unfastened +and thrown open.</p> +<p>"I'm not really ill," she informed me. "I'm—I'm just tired +and nervous, and—and unhappy, Mrs. Pitman."</p> +<p>"I am sorry," I said. I wanted to lean over and pat her hand, to +draw the covers around her and mother her a little,—I had had +no one to mother for so long,—but I could not. She would have +thought it queer and presumptuous—or no, not that. She was +too sweet to have thought that.</p> +<p>"Mrs. Pitman," she said suddenly, "<i>who was</i> this Jennie +Brice?"</p> +<p>"She was an actress. She and her husband lived at my house."</p> +<p>"Was she—was she beautiful?"</p> +<p>"Well," I said slowly, "I never thought of that. She was +handsome, in a large way."</p> +<p>"Was she young?"</p> +<p>"Yes. Twenty-eight or so."</p> +<p>"That isn't very young," she said, looking relieved. "But I +don't think men like very young women. Do you?"</p> +<p>"I know one who does," I said, smiling. But she sat up in bed +suddenly and looked at me with her clear childish eyes.</p> +<br> +<a name="image-1"><!-- Image 1 --></a> +<p style="text-align: center;"><img style= +"width: 552px; height: 776px;" alt="She sat up in bed suddenly." +src="images/jb002.jpg"></p> +<p>"I don't want him to like me!" she flashed. "I—I want him +to hate me."</p> +<p>"Tut, tut! You want nothing of the sort."</p> +<p>"Mrs. Pitman," she said, "I sent for you because I'm nearly +crazy. Mr. Howell was a friend of that woman. He has acted like a +maniac since she disappeared. He doesn't come to see me, he has +given up his work on the paper, and I saw him to-day on the +street—he looks like a ghost."</p> +<p>That put me to thinking.</p> +<p>"He might have been a friend," I admitted. "Although, as far as +I know, he was never at the house but once, and then he saw both of +them."</p> +<p>"When was that?"</p> +<p>"Sunday morning, the day before she disappeared. They were +arguing something."</p> +<p>She was looking at me attentively. "You know more than you are +telling me, Mrs. Pitman," she said. "You—do you think Jennie +Brice is dead, and that Mr. Howell knows—who did it?"</p> +<p>"I think she is dead, and I think possibly Mr. Howell suspects +who did it. He does not <i>know</i>, or he would have told the +police."</p> +<p>"You do not think he was—was in love with Jennie Brice, do +you?"</p> +<p>"I'm certain of that," I said. "He is very much in love with a +foolish girl, who ought to have more faith in him than she +has."</p> +<p>She colored a little, and smiled at that, but the next moment +she was sitting forward, tense and questioning again.</p> +<p>"If that is true, Mrs. Pitman," she said, "who was the veiled +woman he met that Monday morning at daylight, and took across the +bridge to Pittsburgh? I believe it was Jennie Brice. If it was not, +who was it?"</p> +<p>"I don't believe he took any woman across the bridge at that +hour. Who says he did?"</p> +<p>"Uncle Jim saw him. He had been playing cards all night at one +of the clubs, and was walking home. He says he met Mr. Howell face +to face, and spoke to him. The woman was tall and veiled. Uncle Jim +sent for him, a day or two later, and he refused to explain. Then +they forbade him the house. Mama objected to him, anyhow, and he +only came on sufferance. He is a college man of good family, but +without any money at all save what he earns.. And now—"</p> +<p>I had had some young newspaper men with me, and I knew what they +got. They were nice boys, but they made fifteen dollars a week. I'm +afraid I smiled a little as I looked around the room, with its gray +grass-cloth walls, its toilet-table spread with ivory and gold, and +the maid in attendance in her black dress and white apron, collar +and cuffs. Even the little nightgown Lida was wearing would have +taken a week's salary or more. She saw my smile.</p> +<p>"It was to be his chance," she said. "If he made good, he was to +have something better. My Uncle Jim owns the paper, and he promised +me to help him. But—"</p> +<p>So Jim was running a newspaper! That was a curious career for +Jim to choose. Jim, who was twice expelled from school, and who +could never write a letter without a dictionary beside him! I had a +pang when I heard his name again, after all the years. For I had +written to Jim from Oklahoma, after Mr. Pitman died, asking for +money to bury him, and had never even had a reply.</p> +<p>"And you haven't seen him since?"</p> +<p>"Once. I—didn't hear from him, and I called him up. +We—we met in the park. He said everything was all right, but +he couldn't tell me just then. The next day he resigned from the +paper and went away. Mrs. Pitman, it's driving me crazy! For they +have found a body, and they think it is hers. If it is, and he was +with her—"</p> +<p>"Don't be a foolish girl," I protested. "If he was with Jennie +Brice, she is still living, and if he was <i>not</i> with Jennie +Brice—"</p> +<p>"If it was <i>not</i> Jennie Brice, then I have a right to know +who it was," she declared. "He was not like himself when I met him. +He said such queer things: he talked about an onyx clock, and said +he had been made a fool of, and that no matter what came out, I was +always to remember that he had done what he did for the best, and +that—that he cared for me more than for anything in this +world or the next."</p> +<p>"That wasn't so foolish!" I couldn't help it; I leaned over and +drew her nightgown up over her bare white shoulder. "You won't help +anything or anybody by taking cold, my dear," I said. "Call your +maid and have her put a dressing-gown around you."</p> +<p>I left soon after. There was little I could do. But I comforted +her as best I could, and said good night. My heart was heavy as I +went down the stairs. For, twist things as I might, it was clear +that in some way the Howell boy was mixed up in the Brice case. +Poor little troubled Lida! Poor distracted boy!</p> +<p>I had a curious experience down-stairs. I had reached the foot +of the staircase and was turning to go back and along the hall to +the side entrance, when I came face to face with Isaac, the old +colored man who had driven the family carriage when I was a child, +and whom I had seen, at intervals since I came back, pottering +around Alma's house. The old man was bent and feeble; he came +slowly down the hall, with a bunch of keys in his hand. I had seen +him do the same thing many times.</p> +<p>He stopped when he saw me, and I shrank back from the light, but +he had seen me. "Miss Bess!" he said. "Foh Gawd's sake, Miss +Bess!"</p> +<p>"You are making a mistake, my friend," I said, quivering. "I am +not 'Miss Bess'!"</p> +<p>He came close to me and stared into my face. And from that he +looked at my cloth gloves, at my coat, and he shook his white head. +"I sure thought you was Miss Bess," he said, and made no further +effort to detain me. He led the way back to the door where the +machine waited, his head shaking with the palsy of age, muttering +as he went. He opened the door with his best manner, and stood +aside.</p> +<p>"Good night, ma'am," he quavered.</p> +<p>I had tears in my eyes. I tried to keep them back. "Good night," +I said. "Good night, <i>Ikkie</i>."</p> +<p>It had slipped out, my baby name for old Isaac!</p> +<p>"Miss Bess!" he cried. "Oh, praise Gawd, it's Miss Bess +again!"</p> +<p>He caught my arm and pulled me back into the hall, and there he +held me, crying over me, muttering praises for my return, begging +me to come back, recalling little tender things out of the past +that almost killed me to hear again.</p> +<p>But I had made my bed and must lie in it. I forced him to swear +silence about my visit; I made him promise not to reveal my +identity to Lida; and I told him—Heaven forgive +me!—that I was well and prosperous and happy.</p> +<p>Dear old Isaac! I would not let him come to see me, but the next +day there came a basket, with six bottles of wine, and an old +daguerreotype of my mother, that had been his treasure. Nor was +that basket the last.</p> + + + + +<a name="CH9"><!-- CH9 --></a> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<p>The coroner held an inquest over the headless body the next day, +Tuesday. Mr. Graves telephoned me in the morning, and I went to the +morgue with him.</p> +<p>I do not like the morgue, although some of my neighbors pay it +weekly visits. It is by way of excursion, like nickelodeons or +watching the circus put up its tents. I have heard them threaten +the children that if they misbehaved they would not be taken to the +morgue that week!</p> +<p>I failed to identify the body. How could I? It had been a tall +woman, probably five feet eight, and I thought the nails looked +like those of Jennie Brice. The thumb-nail of one was broken short +off. I told Mr. Graves about her speaking of a broken nail, but he +shrugged his shoulders and said nothing.</p> +<p>There was a curious scar over the heart, and he was making a +sketch of it. It reached from the center of the chest for about six +inches across the left breast, a narrow thin line that one could +hardly see. It was shaped like this:</p> +<br> +<p style="text-align: center;"><img style= +"width: 337px; height: 249px;" alt="" src="images/jb003.jpg"></p> +<p>I felt sure that Jennie Brice had had no such scar, and Mr. +Graves thought as I did. Temple Hope, called to the inquest, said +she had never heard of one, and Mr. Ladley himself, at the inquest, +swore that his wife had had nothing of the sort. I was watching +him, and I did not think he was lying. And yet—the hand was +very like Jennie Brice's. It was all bewildering.</p> +<p>Mr. Ladley's testimoney at the inquest was disappointing. He was +cool and collected: said he had no reason to believe that his wife +was dead, and less reason to think she had been drowned; she had +left him in a rage, and if she found out that by hiding she was +putting him in an unpleasant position, she would probably hide +indefinitely.</p> +<p>To the disappointment of everybody, the identity of the woman +remained a mystery. No one with such a scar was missing. A small +woman of my own age, a Mrs. Murray, whose daughter, a stenographer, +had disappeared, attended the inquest. But her daughter had had no +such scar, and had worn her nails short, because of using the +typewriter. Alice Murray was the missing girl's name. Her mother +sat beside me, and cried most of the time.</p> +<p>One thing was brought out at the inquest: the body had been +thrown into the river <i>after</i> death. There was no water in the +lungs. The verdict was "death by the hands of some person or +persons unknown."</p> +<p>Mr. Holcombe was not satisfied. In some way or other he had got +permission to attend the autopsy, and had brought away a tracing of +the scar. All the way home in the street-car he stared at the +drawing, holding first one eye shut and then the other. But, like +the coroner, he got nowhere. He folded the paper and put it in his +note-book.</p> +<p>"None the less, Mrs. Pitman," he said, "that is the body of +Jennie Brice; her husband killed her, probably by strangling her; +he took the body out in the boat and dropped it into the swollen +river above the Ninth Street bridge."</p> +<p>"Why do you think he strangled her?"</p> +<p>"There was no mark on the body, and no poison was found."</p> +<p>"Then if he strangled her, where did the blood come from?"</p> +<p>"I didn't limit myself to strangulation," he said irritably. "He +may have cut her throat."</p> +<p>"Or brained her with my onyx clock," I added with a sigh. For I +missed the clock more and more.</p> +<p>He went down in his pockets and brought up a key. "I'd forgotten +this," he said. "It shows you were right—that the clock was +there when the Ladleys took the room. I found this in the yard this +morning."</p> +<p>It was when I got home from the inquest that I found old Isaac's +basket waiting. I am not a crying woman, but I could hardly see my +mother's picture for tears.—Well, after all, that is not the +Brice story. I am not writing the sordid tragedy of my life.</p> +<p>That was on Tuesday. Jennie Brice had been missing nine days. In +all that time, although she was cast for the piece at the theater +that week, no one there had heard from her. Her relatives had had +no word. She had gone away, if she had gone, on a cold March night, +in a striped black and white dress with a red collar, and a red and +black hat, without her fur coat, which she had worn all winter. She +had gone very early in the morning, or during the night. How had +she gone? Mr. Ladley said he had rowed her to Federal Street at +half after six and had brought the boat back. After they had +quarreled violently all night, and when she was leaving him, +wouldn't he have allowed her to take herself away? Besides, the +police had found no trace of her on an early train. And then at +daylight, between five and six, my own brother had seen a woman +with Mr. Howell, a woman who might have been Jennie Brice. But if +it was, why did not Mr. Howell say so?</p> +<p>Mr. Ladley claimed she was hiding, in revenge. But Jennie Brice +was not that sort of woman; there was something big about her, +something that is found often in large women—a lack of spite. +She was not petty or malicious. Her faults, like her virtues, were +for all to see.</p> +<p>In spite of the failure to identify the body, Mr. Ladley was +arrested that night, Tuesday, and this time it was for murder. I +know now that the police were taking long chances. They had no +strong motive for the crime. As Mr. Holcombe said, they had +provocation, but not motive, which is different. They had +opportunity, and they had a lot of straggling links of clues, which +in the total made a fair chain of circumstantial evidence. But that +was all.</p> +<p>That is the way the case stood on Tuesday night, March the +thirteenth.</p> +<p>Mr. Ladley was taken away at nine o'clock. He was perfectly +cool, asked me to help him pack a suit case, and whistled while it +was being done. He requested to be allowed to walk to the jail, and +went quietly, with a detective on one side and I think a sheriff's +officer on the other.</p> +<p>Just before he left, he asked for a word or two with me, and +when he paid his bill up to date, and gave me an extra dollar for +taking care of Peter, I was almost overcome. He took the manuscript +of his play with him, and I remember his asking if he could have +any typing done in the jail. I had never seen a man arrested for +murder before, but I think he was probably the coolest suspect the +officers had ever seen. They hardly knew what to make of it.</p> +<p>Mr. Reynolds and I had a cup of tea after all the excitement, +and were sitting at the dining-room table drinking it, when the +bell rang. It was Mr. Howell! He half staggered into the hall when +I opened the door, and was for going into the parlor bedroom +without a word.</p> +<p>"Mr. Ladley's gone, if you want him," I said. I thought his face +cleared.</p> +<p>"Gone!" he said. "Where?"</p> +<p>"To jail."</p> +<p>He did not reply at once. He stood there, tapping the palm of +one hand with the forefinger of the other. He was dirty and +unshaven. His clothes looked as if he had been sleeping in +them.</p> +<p>"So they've got him!" he muttered finally, and turning, was +about to go out the front door without another word, but I caught +his arm.</p> +<p>"You're sick, Mr. Howell," I said. "You'd better not go out just +yet."</p> +<p>"Oh, I'm all right." He took his handkerchief out and wiped his +face. I saw that his hands were shaking.</p> +<p>"Come back and have a cup of tea, and a slice of home-made +bread."</p> +<p>He hesitated and looked at his watch. "I'll do it, Mrs. Pitman," +he said. "I suppose I'd better throw a little fuel into this engine +of mine. It's been going hard for several days."</p> +<p>He ate like a wolf. I cut half a loaf into slices for him, and +he drank the rest of the tea. Mr. Reynolds creaked up to bed and +left him still eating, and me still cutting and spreading. Now that +I had a chance to see him, I was shocked. The rims of his eyes were +red, his collar was black, and his hair hung over his forehead. But +when he finally sat back and looked at me, his color was +better.</p> +<p>"So they've canned him!" he said.</p> +<p>"Time enough, too," said I.</p> +<p>He leaned forward and put both his elbows on the table. "Mrs. +Pitman," he said earnestly, "I don't like him any more than you do. +But he never killed that woman."</p> +<p>"Somebody killed her."</p> +<p>"How do you know? How do you know she is dead?"</p> +<p>Well, I didn't, of course—I only felt it.</p> +<p>"The police haven't even proved a crime. They can't hold a man +for a supposititious murder."</p> +<p>"Perhaps they can't but they're doing it," I retorted. "If the +woman's alive, she won't let him hang."</p> +<p>"I'm not so sure of that," he said heavily, and got up. He +looked in the little mirror over the sideboard, and brushed back +his hair. "I look bad enough," he said, "but I feel worse. Well, +you've saved my life, Mrs. Pitman. Thank you."</p> +<p>"How is my—how is Miss Harvey?" I asked, as we started +out. He turned and smiled at me in his boyish way.</p> +<p>"The best ever!" he said. "I haven't seen her for days, and it +seems like centuries. She—she is the only girl in the world +for me, Mrs. Pitman, although I—" He stopped and drew a long +breath. "She is beautiful, isn't she?"</p> +<p>"Very beautiful," I answered. "Her mother was always—"</p> +<p>"Her mother!" He looked at me curiously.</p> +<p>"I knew her mother years ago," I said, putting the best face on +my mistake that I could.</p> +<p>"Then I'll remember you to her, if she ever allows me to see her +again. Just now I'm <i>persona non grata</i>."</p> +<p>"If you'll do the kindly thing, Mr. Howell," I said, "you'll +<i>forget</i> me to her."</p> +<p>He looked into my eyes and then thrust out his hand.</p> +<p>"All right," he said. "I'll not ask any questions. I guess there +are some curious stories hidden in these old houses."</p> +<p>Peter hobbled to the front door with him. He had not gone so far +as the parlor once while Mr. Ladley was in the house.</p> +<hr> +<p>They had had a sale of spring flowers at the store that day, and +Mr. Reynolds had brought me a pot of white tulips. That night I +hung my mother's picture over the mantel in the dining-room, and +put the tulips beneath it. It gave me a feeling of comfort; I had +never seen my mother's grave, or put flowers on it.</p> + + + + +<a name="CH10"><!-- CH10 --></a> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> +<p>I have said before that I do not know anything about the law. I +believe that the Ladley case was unusual, in several ways. Mr. +Ladley had once been well known in New York among the people who +frequent the theaters, and Jennie Brice was even better known. A +good many lawyers, I believe, said that the police had not a leg to +stand on, and I know the case was watched with much interest by the +legal profession. People wrote letters to the newspapers, +protesting against Mr. Ladley being held. And I believe that the +district attorney, in taking him before the grand jury, hardly +hoped to make a case.</p> +<p>But he did, to his own surprise, I fancy, and the trial was set +for May. But in the meantime, many curious things happened.</p> +<p>In the first place, the week following Mr. Ladley's arrest my +house was filled up with eight or ten members of a company from the +Gaiety Theater, very cheerful and jolly, and well behaved. Three +men, I think, and the rest girls. One of the men was named Bellows, +John Bellows, and it turned out that he had known Jennie Brice very +well.</p> +<p>From the moment he learned that, Mr. Holcombe hardly left him. +He walked to the theater with him and waited to walk home again. He +took him out to restaurants and for long street-car rides in the +mornings, and on the last night of their stay, Saturday, they got +gloriously drunk together—Mr. Holcombe, no doubt, in his +character of Ladley—and came reeling in at three in the +morning, singing. Mr. Holcombe was very sick the next day, but by +Monday he was all right, and he called me into the room.</p> +<p>"We've got him, Mrs. Pitman," he said, looking mottled but +cheerful. "As sure as God made little fishes, we've got him." That +was all he would say, however. It seemed he was going to New York, +and might be gone for a month. "I've no family," he said, "and +enough money to keep me. If I find my relaxation in hunting down +criminals, it's a harmless and cheap amusement, and—it's my +own business."</p> +<p>He went away that night, and I must admit I missed him. I rented +the parlor bedroom the next day to a school-teacher, and I found +the periscope affair very handy. I could see just how much gas she +used; and although the notice on each door forbids cooking and +washing in rooms, I found she was doing both: making coffee and +boiling an egg in the morning, and rubbing out stockings and +handkerchiefs in her wash-bowl. I'd much rather have men as +boarders than women. The women are always lighting alcohol lamps on +the bureau, and wanting the bed turned into a cozy corner so they +can see their gentlemen friends in their rooms.</p> +<p>Well, with Mr. Holcombe gone, and Mr. Reynolds busy all day and +half the night getting out the summer silks and preparing for +remnant day, and with Mr. Ladley in jail and Lida out of the +city—for I saw in the papers that she was not well, and her +mother had taken her to Bermuda—I had a good bit of time on +my hands. And so I got in the habit of thinking things over, and +trying to draw conclusions, as I had seen Mr. Holcombe do. I would +sit down and write things out as they had happened, and study them +over, and especially I worried over how we could have found a slip +of paper in Mr. Ladley's room with a list, almost exact, of the +things we had discovered there. I used to read it over, "rope, +knife, shoe, towel, Horn—" and get more and more bewildered. +"Horn"—might have been a town, or it might not have been. +There <i>was</i> such a town, according to Mr. Graves, but +apparently he had made nothing of it. <i>Was</i> it a town that was +meant?</p> +<p>The dictionary gave only a few words beginning with +"horn"—hornet, hornblende, hornpipe, and horny—none of +which was of any assistance. And then one morning I happened to see +in the personal column of one of the newspapers that a woman named +Eliza Shaeffer, of Horner, had day-old Buff Orpington and Plymouth +Rock chicks for sale, and it started me to puzzling again. Perhaps +it had been Horner, and possibly this very Eliza +Shaeffer—</p> +<p>I suppose my lack of experience was in my favor, for, after all, +Eliza Shaeffer is a common enough name, and the "Horn" might have +stood for "hornswoggle," for all I knew. The story of the man who +thought of what he would do if he were a horse, came back to me, +and for an hour or so I tried to think I was Jennie Brice, trying +to get away and hide from my rascal of a husband. But I made no +headway. I would never have gone to Horner, or to any small town, +if I had wanted to hide. I think I should have gone around the +corner and taken a room in my own neighborhood, or have lost myself +in some large city.</p> +<p>It was that same day that, since I did not go to Horner, Horner +came to me. The bell rang about three o'clock, and I answered it +myself. For, with times hard and only two or three roomers all +winter, I had not had a servant, except Terry to do odd jobs, for +some months.</p> +<p>There stood a fresh-faced young girl, with a covered basket in +her hand.</p> +<p>"Are you Mrs. Pitman?" she asked.</p> +<p>"I don't need anything to-day," I said, trying to shut the door. +And at that minute something in the basket cheeped. Young women +selling poultry are not common in our neighborhood. "What have you +there?" I asked more agreeably.</p> +<p>"Chicks, day-old chicks, but I'm not trying to sell you any. +I—may I come in?"</p> +<p>It was dawning on me then that perhaps this was Eliza Shaeffer. +I led her back to the dining-room, with Peter sniffing at the +basket.</p> +<p>"My name is Shaeffer," she said. "I've seen your name in the +papers, and I believe I know something about Jennie Brice."</p> +<p>Eliza Shaeffer's story was curious. She said that she was +postmistress at Horner, and lived with her mother on a farm a mile +out of the town, driving in and out each day in a buggy.</p> +<p>On Monday afternoon, March the fifth, a woman had alighted at +the station from a train, and had taken luncheon at the hotel. She +told the clerk she was on the road, selling corsets, and was much +disappointed to find no store of any size in the town. The woman, +who had registered as Mrs. Jane Bellows, said she was tired and +would like to rest for a day or two on a farm. She was told to see +Eliza Shaeffer at the post-office, and, as a result, drove out with +her to the farm after the last mail came in that evening.</p> +<p>Asked to describe her—she was over medium height, +light-haired, quick in her movements, and wore a black and white +striped dress with a red collar, and a hat to match. She carried a +small brown valise that Miss Shaeffer presumed contained her +samples.</p> +<p>Mrs. Shaeffer had made her welcome, although they did not +usually take boarders until June. She had not eaten much supper, +and that night she had asked for pen and ink, and had written a +letter. The letter was not mailed until Wednesday. All of Tuesday +Mrs. Bellows had spent in her room, and Mrs. Shaeffer had driven to +the village in the afternoon with word that she had been crying all +day, and bought some headache medicine for her.</p> +<p>On Wednesday morning, however, she had appeared at breakfast, +eaten heartily, and had asked Miss Shaeffer to take her letter to +the post-office. It was addressed to Mr. Ellis Howell, in care of a +Pittsburgh newspaper!</p> +<p>That night when Miss Eliza went home, about half past eight, the +woman was gone. She had paid for her room and had been driven as +far as Thornville, where all trace of her had been lost. On account +of the disappearance of Jennie Brice being published shortly after +that, she and her mother had driven to Thornville, but the station +agent there was surly as well as stupid. They had learned nothing +about the woman.</p> +<p>Since that time, three men had made inquiries about the woman in +question. One had a pointed Vandyke beard; the second, from the +description, I fancied must have been Mr. Graves. The third without +doubt was Mr. Howell. Eliza Shaeffer said that this last man had +seemed half frantic. I brought her a photograph of Jennie Brice as +"Topsy" and another one as "Juliet". She said there was a +resemblance, but that it ended there. But of course, as Mr. Graves +had said, by the time an actress gets her photograph retouched to +suit her, it doesn't particularly resemble her. And unless I had +known Jennie Brice myself, I should hardly have recognized the +pictures.</p> +<p>Well, in spite of all that, there seemed no doubt that Jennie +Brice had been living three days after her disappearance, and that +would clear Mr. Ladley. But what had Mr. Howell to do with it all? +Why had he not told the police of the letter from Horner? Or about +the woman on the bridge? Why had Mr. Bronson, who was likely the +man with the pointed beard, said nothing about having traced Jennie +Brice to Horner?</p> +<p>I did as I thought Mr. Holcombe would have wished me to do. I +wrote down on a clean sheet of note-paper all that Eliza Shaeffer +said: the description of the black and white dress, the woman's +height, and the rest, and then I took her to the court-house, +chicks and all, and she told her story there to one of the +assistant district attorneys.</p> +<p>The young man was interested, but not convinced. He had her +story taken down, and she signed it. He was smiling as he bowed us +out. I turned in the doorway.</p> +<p>"This will free Mr. Ladley, I suppose?" I asked.</p> +<p>"Not just yet," he said pleasantly. "This makes just eleven +places where Jennie Brice spent the first three days after her +death."</p> +<p>"But I can positively identify the dress."</p> +<p>"My good woman, that dress has been described, to the last +stilted arch and Colonial volute, in every newspaper in the United +States!"</p> +<p>That evening the newspapers announced that during a conference +at the jail between Mr. Ladley and James Bronson, business manager +at the Liberty Theater, Mr. Ladley had attacked Mr. Bronson with a +chair, and almost brained him.</p> + + + + +<a name="CH11"><!-- CH11 --></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> +<p>Eliza Shaeffer went back to Horner, after delivering her chicks +somewhere in the city. Things went on as before. The trial was set +for May. The district attorney's office had all the things we had +found in the house that Monday afternoon—the stained towel, +the broken knife and its blade, the slipper that had been floating +in the parlor, and the rope that had fastened my boat to the +staircase. Somewhere—wherever they keep such things—was +the headless body of a woman with a hand missing, and with a +curious scar across the left breast. The slip of paper, however, +which I had found behind the base-board, was still in Mr. +Holcombe's possession, nor had he mentioned it to the police.</p> +<p>Mr. Holcombe had not come back. He wrote me twice asking me to +hold his room, once from New York and once from Chicago. To the +second letter he added a postscript:</p> +<pre> + "Have not found what I wanted, but am getting warm. If any news, + address me at Des Moines, Iowa, General Delivery. H." +</pre> +<p>It was nearly the end of April when I saw Lida again. I had seen +by the newspapers that she and her mother were coming home. I +wondered if she had heard from Mr. Howell, for I had not, and I +wondered, too, if she would send for me again.</p> +<p>But she came herself, on foot, late one afternoon, and the +school-teacher being out, I took her into the parlor bedroom. She +looked thinner than before, and rather white. My heart ached for +her.</p> +<p>"I have been away," she explained. "I thought you might wonder +why you did not hear from me. But, you see, my mother—" she +stopped and flushed. "I would have written you from Bermuda, +but—my mother watched my correspondence, so I could not."</p> +<p>No. I knew she could not. Alma had once found a letter of mine +to Mr. Pitman. Very little escaped Alma.</p> +<p>"I wondered if you have heard anything?" she asked.</p> +<p>"I have heard nothing. Mr. Howell was here once, just after I +saw you. I do not believe he is in the city.</p> +<p>"Perhaps not, although—Mrs. Pitman, I believe he is in the +city, hiding!"</p> +<p>"Hiding! Why?"</p> +<p>"I don't know. But last night I thought I saw him below my +window. I opened the window, so if it were he, he could make some +sign. But he moved on without a word. Later, whoever it was came +back. I put out my light and watched. Some one stood there, in the +shadow, until after two this morning. Part of the time he was +looking up."</p> +<p>"Don't you think, had it been he, he would have spoken when he +saw you?"</p> +<p>She shook her head. "He is in trouble," she said. "He has not +heard from me, and he—thinks I don't care any more. Just look +at me, Mrs. Pitman! Do I look as if I don't care?"</p> +<p>She looked half killed, poor lamb.</p> +<p>"He may be out of town, searching for a better position," I +tried to comfort her. "He wants to have something to offer more +than himself."</p> +<p>"I only want him," she said, looking at me frankly. "I don't +know why I tell you all this, but you are so kind, and I +<i>must</i> talk to some one."</p> +<p>She sat there, in the cozy corner the school-teacher had made +with a portière and some cushions, and I saw she was about +ready to break down and cry. I went over to her and took her hand, +for she was my own niece, although she didn't suspect it, and I had +never had a child of my own.</p> +<p>But after all, I could not help her much. I could only assure +her that he would come back and explain everything, and that he was +all right, and that the last time I had seen him he had spoken of +her, and had said she was "the best ever." My heart fairly yearned +over the girl, and I think she felt it. For she kissed me, shyly, +when she was leaving.</p> +<p>With the newspaper files before me, it is not hard to give the +details of that sensational trial. It commenced on Monday, the +seventh of May, but it was late Wednesday when the jury was finally +selected. I was at the court-house early on Thursday, and so was +Mr. Reynolds.</p> +<p>The district attorney made a short speech. "We propose, +gentlemen, to prove that the prisoner, Philip Ladley, murdered his +wife," he said in part. "We will show first that a crime was +committed; then we will show a motive for this crime, and, finally, +we expect to show that the body washed ashore at Sewickley is the +body of the murdered woman, and thus establish beyond doubt the +prisoner's guilt."</p> +<p>Mr. Ladley listened with attention. He wore the brown suit, and +looked well and cheerful. He was much more like a spectator than a +prisoner, and he was not so nervous as I was.</p> +<p>Of that first day I do not recall much. I was called early in +the day. The district attorney questioned me.</p> +<p>"Your name?"</p> +<p>"Elizabeth Marie Pitman."</p> +<p>"Your occupation?"</p> +<p>"I keep a boarding-house at 42 Union Street."</p> +<p>"You know the prisoner?"</p> +<p>"Yes. He was a boarder in my house."</p> +<p>"For how long?"</p> +<p>"From December first. He and his wife came at that time."</p> +<p>"Was his wife the actress, Jennie Brice?"</p> +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> +<p>"Were they living together at your house the night of March +fourth?"</p> +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> +<p>"In what part of the house?"</p> +<p>"They rented the double parlors down-stairs, but on account of +the flood I moved them up-stairs to the second floor front."</p> +<p>"That was on Sunday? You moved them on Sunday?"</p> +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> +<p>"At what time did you retire that night?"</p> +<p>"Not at all. The water was very high. I lay down, dressed, at +one o'clock, and dropped into a doze."</p> +<p>"How long did you sleep?"</p> +<p>"An hour or so. Mr. Reynolds, a boarder, roused me to say he had +heard some one rowing a boat in the lower hall."</p> +<p>"Do you keep a boat around during flood times?"</p> +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> +<p>"What did you do when Mr. Reynolds roused you?"</p> +<p>"I went to the top of the stairs. My boat was gone."</p> +<p>"Was the boat secured?"</p> +<p>"Yes, sir. Anyhow, there was no current in the hall."</p> +<p>"What did you do then?"</p> +<p>"I waited a time and went back to my room."</p> +<p>"What examination of the house did you make—if any?"</p> +<p>"Mr. Reynolds looked around."</p> +<p>"What did he find?"</p> +<p>"He found Peter, the Ladleys' dog, shut in a room on the third +floor."</p> +<p>"Was there anything unusual about that?"</p> +<p>"I had never known it to happen before."</p> +<p>"State what happened later."</p> +<p>"I did not go to sleep again. At a quarter after four, I heard +the boat come back. I took a candle and went to the stairs. It was +Mr. Ladley. He said he had been out getting medicine for his +wife."</p> +<p>"Did you see him tie up the boat?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"Did you observe any stains on the rope?"</p> +<p>"I did not notice any."</p> +<p>"What was the prisoner's manner at that time?"</p> +<p>"I thought he was surly."</p> +<p>"Now, Mrs. Pitman, tell us about the following morning."</p> +<p>"I saw Mr. Ladley at a quarter before seven. He said to bring +breakfast for one. His wife had gone away. I asked if she was not +ill, and he said no; that she had gone away early; that he had +rowed her to Federal Street, and that she would be back Saturday. +It was shortly after that that the dog Peter brought in one of Mrs. +Ladley's slippers, water-soaked."</p> +<p>"You recognized the slipper?"</p> +<p>"Positively. I had seen it often."</p> +<p>"What did you do with it?"</p> +<p>"I took it to Mr. Ladley."</p> +<p>"What did he say?"</p> +<p>"He said at first that it was not hers. Then he said if it was, +she would never wear it again—and then added—because it +was ruined."</p> +<p>"Did he offer any statement as to where his wife was?"</p> +<p>"No, sir. Not at that time. Before, he had said she had gone +away for a few days."</p> +<p>"Tell the jury about the broken knife."</p> +<p>"The dog found it floating in the parlor, with the blade +broken."</p> +<p>"You had not left it down-stairs?"</p> +<p>"No, sir. I had used it up-stairs, the night before, and left it +on a mantel of the room I was using as a temporary kitchen."</p> +<p>"Was the door of this room locked?"</p> +<p>"No. It was standing open."</p> +<p>"Were you not asleep in this room?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"You heard no one come in?"</p> +<p>"No one—until Mr. Reynolds roused me."</p> +<p>"Where did you find the blade?"</p> +<p>"Behind the bed in Mr. Ladley's room."</p> +<p>"What else did you find in the room?"</p> +<p>"A blood-stained towel behind the wash-stand. Also, my onyx +clock was missing."</p> +<p>"Where was the clock when the Ladleys were moved up into this +room?"</p> +<p>"On the mantel. I wound it just before they came up-stairs."</p> +<p>"When you saw Mrs. Ladley on Sunday, did she say she was going +away?"</p> +<p>"No, sir."</p> +<p>"Did you see any preparation for a journey?"</p> +<p>"The black and white dress was laid out on the bed, and a small +bag. She said she was taking the dress to the theater to lend to +Miss Hope."</p> +<p>"Is that all she said?"</p> +<p>"No. She said she'd been wishing her husband would drown; that +he was a fiend."</p> +<p>I could see that my testimony had made an impression.</p> + + + + +<a name="CH12"><!-- CH12 --></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> +<p>The slipper, the rope, the towel, and the knife and blade were +produced in court, and I identified them all. They made a +noticeable impression on the jury. Then Mr. Llewellyn, the lawyer +for the defense, cross-examined me.</p> +<p>"Is it not true, Mrs. Pitman," he said, "that many articles, +particularly shoes and slippers, are found floating around during a +flood?"</p> +<p>"Yes," I admitted.</p> +<p>"Now, you say the dog found this slipper floating in the hall +and brought it to you. Are you sure this slipper belonged to Jennie +Brice?"</p> +<p>"She wore it. I presume it belonged to her."</p> +<p>"Ahem. Now, Mrs. Pitman, after the Ladleys had been moved to the +upper floor, did you search their bedroom and the connecting room +down-stairs?"</p> +<p>"No, sir."</p> +<p>"Ah. Then, how do you know that this slipper was not left on the +floor or in a closet?"</p> +<p>"It is possible, but not likely. Anyhow, it was not the slipper +alone. It was the other things <i>and</i> the slipper. It +was—"</p> +<p>"Exactly. Now, Mrs. Pitman, this knife. Can you identify it +positively?"</p> +<p>"I can."</p> +<p>"But isn't it true that this is a very common sort of knife? One +that nearly every housewife has in her possession?"</p> +<p>"Yes, sir. But that knife handle has three notches in it. I put +the notches there myself."</p> +<p>"Before this presumed crime?"</p> +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> +<p>"For what purpose?"</p> +<p>"My neighbors were constantly borrowing things. It was a means +of identification."</p> +<p>"Then this knife is yours?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"Tell again where you left it the night before it was found +floating down-stairs."</p> +<p>"On a shelf over the stove."</p> +<p>"Could the dog have reached it there?"</p> +<p>"Not without standing on a hot stove."</p> +<p>"Is it not possible that Mr. Ladley, unable to untie the boat, +borrowed your knife to cut the boat's painter?"</p> +<p>"No painter was cut that I heard about The +paper-hanger—"</p> +<p>"No, no. The boat's painter—the rope."</p> +<p>"Oh! Well, he might have. He never said."</p> +<p>"Now then, this towel, Mrs. Pitman. Did not the prisoner, on the +following day, tell you that he had cut his wrist in freeing the +boat, and ask you for some court-plaster?"</p> +<p>"He did not," I said firmly.</p> +<p>"You have not seen a scar on his wrist?"</p> +<p>"No." I glanced at Mr. Ladley: he was smiling, as if amused. It +made me angry. "And what's more," I flashed, "if he has a cut on +his wrist, he put it there himself, to account for the towel."</p> +<p>I was sorry the next moment that I had said it, but it was too +late. The counsel for the defense moved to exclude the answer and I +received a caution that I deserved. Then:</p> +<p>"You saw Mr. Ladley when he brought your boat back?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"What time was that?"</p> +<p>"A quarter after four Monday morning."</p> +<p>"Did he come in quietly, like a man trying to avoid +attention?"</p> +<p>"Not particularly. It would have been of no use. The dog was +barking."</p> +<p>"What did he say?"</p> +<p>"That he had been out for medicine. That his wife was sick."</p> +<p>"Do you know a pharmacist named Alexander—Jonathan +Alexander?"</p> +<p>"There is such a one, but I don't know him."</p> +<p>I was excused, and Mr. Reynolds was called. He had heard no +quarreling that Sunday night; had even heard Mrs. Ladley laughing. +This was about nine o'clock. Yes, they had fought in the afternoon. +He had not overheard any words, but their voices were quarrelsome, +and once he heard a chair or some article of furniture overthrown. +Was awakened about two by footsteps on the stairs, followed by the +sound of oars in the lower hall. He told his story plainly and +simply. Under cross-examination admitted that he was fond of +detective stories and had tried to write one himself; that he had +said at the store that he would like to see that "conceited ass" +swing, referring to the prisoner; that he had sent flowers to +Jennie Brice at the theater, and had made a few advances to her, +without success.</p> +<p>My head was going round. I don't know yet how the police learned +it all, but by the time poor Mr. Reynolds left the stand, half the +people there believed that he had been in love with Jennie Brice, +that she had spurned his advances, and that there was more to the +story than any of them had suspected.</p> +<p>Miss Hope's story held without any alteration under the +cross-examination. She was perfectly at ease, looked handsome and +well dressed, and could not be shaken. She told how Jennie Brice +had been in fear of her life, and had asked her, only the week +before she disappeared, to allow her to go home with her—Miss +Hope. She told of the attack of hysteria in her dressing-room, and +that the missing woman had said that her husband would kill her +some day. There was much wrangling over her testimony, and I +believe at least a part of it was not allowed to go to the jury. +But I am not a lawyer, and I repeat what I recall.</p> +<p>"Did she say that he had attacked her?"</p> +<p>"Yes, more than once. She was a large woman, fairly muscular, +and had always held her own."</p> +<p>"Did she say that these attacks came when he had been +drinking?"</p> +<p>"I believe he was worse then."</p> +<p>"Did she give any reason for her husband's attitude to her?"</p> +<p>"She said he wanted to marry another woman."</p> +<p>There was a small sensation at this. If proved, it established a +motive.</p> +<p>"Did she know who the other woman was?"</p> +<p>"I believe not. She was away most of the day, and he put in his +time as he liked."</p> +<p>"Did Miss Brice ever mention the nature of the threats he made +against her?"</p> +<p>"No, I think not."</p> +<p>"Have you examined the body washed ashore at Sewickley?"</p> +<p>"Yes—" in a low voice.</p> +<p>"Is it the body of Jennie Brice?"</p> +<p>"I can not say."</p> +<p>"Does the remaining hand look like the hand of Jennie +Brice?"</p> +<p>"Very much. The nails are filed to points, as she wore +hers."</p> +<p>"Did you ever know of Jennie Brice having a scar on her +breast?"</p> +<p>"No, but that would be easily concealed."</p> +<p>"Just what do you mean?"</p> +<p>"Many actresses conceal defects. She could have worn +flesh-colored plaster and covered it with powder. Also, such a scar +would not necessarily be seen."</p> +<p>"Explain that."</p> +<p>"Most of Jennie Brice's décolleté gowns were cut +to a point. This would conceal such a scar."</p> +<p>Miss Hope was excused, and Jennie Brice's sister from Olean was +called. She was a smaller woman than Jennie Brice had been, very +lady-like in her manner. She said she was married and living in +Olean; she had not seen her sister for several years, but had heard +from her often. The witness had discouraged the marriage to the +prisoner.</p> +<p>"Why?"</p> +<p>"She had had bad luck before."</p> +<p>"She had been married before?"</p> +<p>"Yes, to a man named John Bellows. They were in vaudeville +together, on the Keith Circuit. They were known as The Pair of +Bellows."</p> +<p>I sat up at this for John Bellows had boarded at my house.</p> +<p>"Mr. Bellows is dead?"</p> +<p>"I think not. She divorced him."</p> +<p>"Did you know of any scar on your sister's body?"</p> +<p>"I never heard of one."</p> +<p>"Have you seen the body found at Sewickley?"</p> +<p>"Yes"—faintly.</p> +<p>"Can you identify it?"</p> +<p>"No, sir."</p> +<p>A flurry was caused during the afternoon by Timothy Senft. He +testified to what I already knew—that between three and four +on Monday morning, during the height of the flood, he had seen from +his shanty-boat a small skiff caught in the current near the Ninth +Street bridge. He had shouted encouragingly to the man in the boat, +running out a way on the ice to make him hear. He had told him to +row with the current, and to try to steer in toward shore. He had +followed close to the river bank in his own boat. Below Sixth +Street the other boat was within rope-throwing distance. He had +pulled it in, and had towed it well back out of the current. The +man in the boat was the prisoner. Asked if the prisoner gave any +explanation—yes, he said he couldn't sleep, and had thought +to tire himself rowing. Had been caught in the current before he +knew it. Saw nothing suspicious in or about the boat. As they +passed the police patrol boat, prisoner had called to ask if there +was much distress, and expressed regret when told there was.</p> +<p>Tim was excused. He had made a profound impression. I would not +have given a dollar for Mr. Ladley's chance with the jury, at that +time.</p> + + + + +<a name="CH13"><!-- CH13 --></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> +<p>The prosecution produced many witnesses during the next two +days: Shanty-boat Tim's story withstood the most vigorous +cross-examination. After him, Mr. Bronson from the theater +corroborated Miss Hope's story of Jennie Brice's attack of hysteria +in the dressing-room, and told of taking her home that night.</p> +<p>He was a poor witness, nervous and halting. He weighed each word +before he said it, and he made a general unfavorable impression. I +thought he was holding something back. In view of what Mr. Pitman +would have called the denouement, his attitude is easily explained. +But I was puzzled then.</p> +<p>So far, the prosecution had touched but lightly on the possible +motive for a crime—the woman. But on the third day, to my +surprise, a Mrs. Agnes Murray was called. It was the Mrs. Murray I +had seen at the morgue.</p> +<p>I have lost the clipping of that day's trial, but I remember her +testimony perfectly.</p> +<p>She was a widow, living above a small millinery shop on Federal +Street, Allegheny. She had one daughter, Alice, who did stenography +and typing as a means of livelihood. She had no office, and worked +at home. Many of the small stores in the neighborhood employed her +to send out their bills. There was a card at the street entrance +beside the shop, and now and then strangers brought her work.</p> +<p>Early in December the prisoner had brought her the manuscript of +a play to type, and from that time on he came frequently, sometimes +every day, bringing a few sheets of manuscript at a time. Sometimes +he came without any manuscript, and would sit and talk while he +smoked a cigarette. They had thought him unmarried.</p> +<p>On Wednesday, February twenty-eighth, Alice Murray had +disappeared. She had taken some of her clothing—not all, and +had left a note. The witness read the note aloud in a trembling +voice:</p> +<pre> + "DEAR MOTHER: When you get this I shall be married to Mr. Ladley. + Don't worry. Will write again from N.Y. Lovingly, + + "ALICE." +</pre> +<p>From that time until a week before, she had not heard from her +daughter. Then she had a card, mailed from Madison Square Station, +New York City. The card merely said:</p> +<pre> + "Am well and working. ALICE." +</pre> +<p>The defense was visibly shaken. They had not expected this, and +I thought even Mr. Ladley, whose calm had continued unbroken, +paled.</p> +<p>So far, all had gone well for the prosecution. They had proved a +crime, as nearly as circumstantial evidence could prove a crime, +and they had established a motive. But in the identification of the +body, so far they had failed. The prosecution "rested," as they +say, although they didn't rest much, on the afternoon of the third +day.</p> +<p>The defense called, first of all, Eliza Shaeffer. She told of a +woman answering the general description of Jennie Brice having +spent two days at the Shaeffer farm at Horner. Being shown +photographs of Jennie Brice, she said she thought it was the same +woman, but was not certain. She told further of the woman leaving +unexpectedly on Wednesday of that week from Thornville. On +cross-examination, being shown the small photograph which Mr. +Graves had shown me, she identified the woman in the group as being +the woman in question. As the face was in shadow, knew it more by +the dress and hat: she described the black and white dress and the +hat with red trimming.</p> +<p>The defense then called me. I had to admit that the dress and +hat as described were almost certainly the ones I had seen on the +bed in Jennie Brice's room the day before she disappeared. I could +not say definitely whether the woman in the photograph was Jennie +Brice or not; under a magnifying-glass thought it might be.</p> +<p>Defense called Jonathan Alexander, a druggist who testified that +on the night in question he had been roused at half past three by +the prisoner, who had said his wife was ill, and had purchased a +bottle of a proprietary remedy from him. His identification was +absolute.</p> +<p>The defense called Jennie Brice's sister, and endeavored to +prove that Jennie Brice had had no such scar. It was shown that she +was on intimate terms with her family and would hardly have +concealed an operation of any gravity from them.</p> +<p>The defense scored that day. They had shown that the prisoner +had told the truth when he said he had gone to a pharmacy for +medicine that night for his wife; and they had shown that a woman, +answering the description of Jennie Brice, spent two days in a town +called Horner, and had gone from there on Wednesday after the +crime. And they had shown that this woman was attired as Jennie +Brice had been.</p> +<p>That was the way things stood on the afternoon of the fourth +day, when court adjourned.</p> +<p>Mr. Reynolds was at home when I got there. He had been very much +subdued since the developments of that first day of the trial, sat +mostly in his own room, and had twice brought me a bunch of +jonquils as a peace-offering. He had the kettle boiling when I got +home.</p> +<p>"You have had a number of visitors," he said. "Our young friend +Howell has been here, and Mr. Holcombe has arrived and has a man in +his room."</p> +<p>Mr. Holcombe came down a moment after, with his face +beaming.</p> +<p>"I think we've got him, Mrs. Pitman," he said. "The jury won't +even go out of the box."</p> +<p>But further than that he would not explain. He said he had a +witness locked in his room, and he'd be glad of supper for him, as +they'd both come a long ways. And he went out and bought some +oysters and a bottle or two of beer. But as far as I know, he kept +him locked up all that night in the second-story front room. I +don't think the man knew he was a prisoner. I went in to turn down +the bed, and he was sitting by the window, reading the evening +paper's account of the trial—an elderly gentleman, rather +professional-looking.</p> +<p>Mr. Holcombe slept on the upper landing of the hall that night, +rolled in a blanket—not that I think his witness even thought +of escaping, but the little man was taking no chances.</p> +<p>At eight o'clock that night the bell rang. It was Mr. Howell. I +admitted him myself, and he followed me back to the dining-room. I +had not seen him for several weeks, and the change in him startled +me. He was dressed carefully, but his eyes were sunken in his head, +and he looked as if he had not slept for days.</p> +<p>Mr. Reynolds had gone up-stairs, not finding me socially +inclined.</p> +<p>"You haven't been sick, Mr. Howell, have you?" I asked.</p> +<p>"Oh, no, I'm well enough, I've been traveling about. Those +infernal sleeping-cars—"</p> +<p>His voice trailed off, and I saw him looking at my mother's +picture, with the jonquils beneath.</p> +<p>"That's curious!" he said, going closer. "It—it looks +almost like Lida Harvey."</p> +<p>"My mother," I said simply.</p> +<p>"Have you seen her lately?"</p> +<p>"My mother?" I asked, startled.</p> +<p>"No, Lida."</p> +<p>"I saw her a few days ago."</p> +<p>"Here?"</p> +<p>"Yes. She came here, Mr. Howell, two weeks ago. She looks +badly—as if she is worrying."</p> +<p>"Not—about me?" he asked eagerly.</p> +<p>"Yes, about you. What possessed you to go away as you did? When +my—bro—when her uncle accused you of something, you ran +away, instead of facing things like a man."</p> +<p>"I was trying to find the one person who could clear me, Mrs. +Pitman." He sat back, with his eyes closed; he looked ill enough to +be in bed.</p> +<p>"And you succeeded?"</p> +<p>"No."</p> +<p>I thought perhaps he had not been eating and I offered him food, +as I had once before. But he refused it, with the ghost of his +boyish smile.</p> +<p>"I'm hungry, but it's not food I want. I want to see +<i>her</i>," he said.</p> +<p>I sat down across from him and tried to mend a table-cloth, but +I could not sew. I kept seeing those two young things, each sick +for a sight of the other, and, from wishing they could have a +minute together, I got to planning it for them.</p> +<p>"Perhaps," I said finally, "if you want it very much—"</p> +<p>"Very much!"</p> +<p>"And if you will sit quiet, and stop tapping your fingers +together until you drive me crazy, I might contrive it for you. For +five minutes," I said. "Not a second longer."</p> +<p>He came right over and put his arms around me.</p> +<p>"Who are you, anyhow?" he said. "You who turn to the world the +frozen mask of a Union Street boarding-house landlady, who are a +gentlewoman by every instinct and training, and a girl at heart? +Who are you?"</p> +<p>"I'll tell you what I am," I said. "I'm a romantic old fool, and +you'd better let me do this quickly, before I change my mind."</p> +<p>He freed me at that, but he followed to the telephone, and stood +by while I got Lida. He was in a perfect frenzy of anxiety, turning +red and white by turns, and in the middle of the conversation +taking the receiver bodily from me and holding it to his own +ear.</p> +<p>She said she thought she could get away; she spoke guardedly, as +if Alma were near, but I gathered that she would come as soon as +she could, and, from the way her voice broke, I knew she was as +excited as the boy beside me.</p> +<p>She came, heavily coated and veiled, at a quarter after ten that +night, and I took her back to the dining-room, where he was +waiting. He did not make a move toward her, but stood there with +his very lips white, looking at her. And, at first, she did not +make a move either, but stood and gazed at him, thin and white, a +wreck of himself. Then:</p> +<p>"Ell!" she cried, and ran around the table to him, as he held +out his arms.</p> +<p>The school-teacher was out. I went into the parlor bedroom and +sat in the cozy corner in the dark. I had done a wrong thing, and I +was glad of it. And sitting there in the darkness, I went over my +own life again. After all, it had been my own life; I had lived it; +no one else had shaped it for me. And if it was cheerless and +colorless now, it had had its big moments. Life is measured by big +moments.</p> +<p>If I let the two children in the dining-room have fifteen big +moments, instead of five, who can blame me?</p> + + + + +<a name="CH14"><!-- CH14 --></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> +<p>The next day was the sensational one of the trial. We went +through every phase of conviction: Jennie Brice was living. Jennie +Brice was dead. The body found at Sewickley could not be Jennie +Brice's. The body found at Sewickley <i>was</i> Jennie Brice's. And +so it went on.</p> +<p>The defense did an unexpected thing in putting Mr. Ladley on the +stand. That day, for the first time, he showed the wear and tear of +the ordeal. He had no flower in his button-hole, and the rims of +his eyes were red. But he was quite cool. His stage training had +taught him not only to endure the eyes of the crowd, but to find in +its gaze a sort of stimulant. He made a good witness, I must +admit.</p> +<p>He replied to the usual questions easily. After five minutes or +so Mr. Llewellyn got down to work.</p> +<p>"Mr. Ladley, you have said that your wife was ill the night of +March fourth?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"What was the nature of her illness?"</p> +<p>"She had a functional heart trouble, not serious."</p> +<p>"Will you tell us fully the events of that night?"</p> +<p>"I had been asleep when my wife wakened me. She asked for a +medicine she used in these attacks. I got up and found the bottle, +but it was empty. As she was nervous and frightened, I agreed to +try to get some at a drug store. I went down-stairs, took Mrs. +Pitman's boat, and went to several stores before I could awaken a +pharmacist."</p> +<p>"You cut the boat loose?"</p> +<p>"Yes. It was tied in a woman's knot, or series of knots. I could +not untie it, and I was in a hurry."</p> +<p>"How did you cut it?"</p> +<p>"With my pocket-knife."</p> +<p>"You did not use Mrs. Pitman's bread-knife?"</p> +<p>"I did not."</p> +<p>"And in cutting it, you cut your wrist, did you?"</p> +<p>"Yes. The knife slipped. I have the scar still."</p> +<p>"What did you do then?"</p> +<p>"I went back to the room, and stanched the blood with a +towel."</p> +<p>"From whom did you get the medicine?"</p> +<p>"From Alexander's Pharmacy."</p> +<p>"At what time?"</p> +<p>"I am not certain. About three o'clock, probably."</p> +<p>"You went directly back home?"</p> +<p>Mr. Ladley hesitated. "No," he said finally. "My wife had had +these attacks, but they were not serious. I was curious to see how +the river-front looked and rowed out too far. I was caught in the +current and nearly carried away."</p> +<p>"You came home after that?"</p> +<p>"Yes, at once. Mrs. Ladley was better and had dropped asleep. +She wakened as I came in. She was disagreeable about the length of +time I had been gone, and would not let me explain. +We—quarreled, and she said she was going to leave me. I said +that as she had threatened this before and had never done it, I +would see that she really started. At daylight I rowed her to +Federal Street."</p> +<p>"What had she with her?"</p> +<p>"A small brown valise."</p> +<p>"How was she dressed?"</p> +<p>"In a black and white dress and hat, with a long black +coat."</p> +<p>"What was the last you saw of her?"</p> +<p>"She was going across the Sixth Street bridge."</p> +<p>"Alone?"</p> +<p>"No. She went with a young man we knew."</p> +<p>There was a stir in the court room at this.</p> +<p>"Who was the young man?"</p> +<p>"A Mr. Howell, a reporter on a newspaper here."</p> +<p>"Have you seen Mr. Howell since your arrest?"</p> +<p>"No, sir. He has been out of the city."</p> +<p>I was so excited by this time that I could hardly hear. I missed +some of the cross-examination. The district attorney pulled Mr. +Ladley's testimony to pieces.</p> +<p>"You cut the boat's painter with your pocket-knife?"</p> +<p>"I did."</p> +<p>"Then how do you account for Mrs. Pitman's broken knife, with +the blade in your room?"</p> +<p>"I have no theory about it. She may have broken it herself. She +had used it the day before to lift tacks out of a carpet."</p> +<p>That was true; I had.</p> +<p>"That early Monday morning was cold, was it not?"</p> +<p>"Yes. Very."</p> +<p>"Why did your wife leave without her fur coat?"</p> +<p>"I did not know she had until we had left the house. Then I did +not ask her. She would not speak to me."</p> +<p>"I see. But is it not true that, upon a wet fur coat being shown +you as your wife's, you said it could not be hers, as she had taken +hers with her?"</p> +<p>"I do not recall such a statement."</p> +<p>"You recall a coat being shown you?"</p> +<p>"Yes. Mrs. Pitman brought a coat to my door, but I was working +on a play I am writing, and I do not remember what I said. The coat +was ruined. I did not want it. I probably said the first thing I +thought of to get rid of the woman."</p> +<p>I got up at that. I'd held my peace about the bread-knife, but +this was too much. However, the moment I started to speak, somebody +pushed me back into my chair and told me to be quiet.</p> +<p>"Now, you say you were in such a hurry to get this medicine for +your wife that you cut the rope, thus cutting your wrist."</p> +<p>"Yes. I have the scar still."</p> +<p>"You could not wait to untie the boat, and yet you went along +the river-front to see how high the water was?"</p> +<p>"Her alarm had excited me. But when I got out, and remembered +that the doctors had told us she would never die in an attack, I +grew more composed."</p> +<p>"You got the medicine first, you say?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"Mr. Alexander has testified that you got the medicine at +three-thirty. It has been shown that you left the house at two, and +got back about four. Does not this show that with all your alarm +you went to the river-front first?"</p> +<p>"I was gone from two to four," he replied calmly. "Mr. Alexander +must be wrong about the time I wakened him. I got the medicine +first."</p> +<p>"When your wife left you at the bridge, did she say where she +was going?"</p> +<p>"No."</p> +<p>"You claim that this woman at Horner was your wife?"</p> +<p>"I think it likely."</p> +<p>"Was there an onyx clock in the second-story room when you moved +into it?"</p> +<p>"I do not recall the clock."</p> +<p>"Your wife did not take an onyx clock away with her?"</p> +<p>Mr. Ladley smiled. "No."</p> +<p>The defense called Mr. Howell next. He looked rested, and the +happier for having seen Lida, but he was still pale and showed the +strain of some hidden anxiety. What that anxiety was, the next two +days were to tell us all.</p> +<p>"Mr. Howell," Mr. Llewellyn asked, "you know the prisoner?"</p> +<p>"Slightly."</p> +<p>"State when you met him."</p> +<p>"On Sunday morning, March the fourth. I went to see him."</p> +<p>"Will you tell us the nature of that visit?"</p> +<p>"My paper had heard he was writing a play for himself. I was to +get an interview, with photographs, if possible."</p> +<p>"You saw his wife at that time?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"When did you see her again?"</p> +<p>"The following morning, at six o'clock, or a little later. I +walked across the Sixth Street bridge with her, and put her on a +train for Horner, Pennsylvania."</p> +<p>"You are positive it was Jennie Brice?"</p> +<p>"Yes. I watched her get out of the boat, while her husband +steadied it."</p> +<p>"If you knew this, why did you not come forward sooner?"</p> +<p>"I have been out of the city."</p> +<p>"But you knew the prisoner had been arrested, and that this +testimony of yours would be invaluable to him."</p> +<p>"Yes. But I thought it necessary to produce Jennie Brice +herself. My unsupported word—"</p> +<p>"You have been searching for Jennie Brice?"</p> +<p>"Yes. Since March the eighth."</p> +<p>"How was she dressed when you saw her last?"</p> +<p>"She wore a red and black hat and a black coat. She carried a +small brown valise."</p> +<p>"Thank you."</p> +<p>The cross-examination did not shake his testimony. But it +brought out some curious things. Mr. Howell refused to say how he +happened to be at the end of the Sixth Street bridge at that hour, +or why he had thought it necessary, on meeting a woman he claimed +to have known only twenty-four hours, to go with her to the railway +station and put her on a train.</p> +<p>The jury was visibly impressed and much shaken. For Mr. Howell +carried conviction in every word he said; he looked the district +attorney in the eye, and once when our glances crossed he even +smiled at me faintly. But I saw why he had tried to find Jennie +Brice, and had dreaded testifying. Not a woman in that court room, +and hardly a man, but believed when he left the stand, that he was, +or had been, Jennie Brice's lover, and as such was assisting her to +leave her husband.</p> +<p>"Then you believe," the district attorney said at the +end,—"you believe, Mr. Howell, that Jennie Brice is +living?"</p> +<p>"Jennie Brice was living on Monday morning, March the fifth," he +said firmly.</p> +<p>"Miss Shaeffer has testified that on Wednesday this woman, who +you claim was Jennie Brice, sent a letter to you from Horner. Is +that the case?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"The letter was signed 'Jennie Brice'?"</p> +<p>"It was signed 'J.B.'"</p> +<p>"Will you show the court that letter?"</p> +<p>"I destroyed it."</p> +<p>"It was a personal letter?"</p> +<p>"It merely said she had arrived safely, and not to let any one +know where she was."</p> +<p>"And yet you destroyed it?"</p> +<p>"A postscript said to do so."</p> +<p>"Why?"</p> +<p>"I do not know. An extra precaution probably."</p> +<p>"You were under the impression that she was going to stay +there?"</p> +<p>"She was to have remained for a week."</p> +<p>"And you have been searching for this woman for two months?"</p> +<p>He quailed, but his voice was steady. "Yes," he admitted.</p> +<p>He was telling the truth, even if it was not all the truth. I +believe, had it gone to the jury then, Mr. Ladley would have been +acquitted. But, late that afternoon, things took a new turn. +Counsel for the prosecution stated to the court that he had a new +and important witness, and got permission to introduce this further +evidence. The witness was a Doctor Littlefield, and proved to be my +one-night tenant of the second-story front. Holcombe's prisoner of +the night before took the stand. The doctor was less impressive in +full daylight; he was a trifle shiny, a bit bulbous as to nose and +indifferent as to finger-nails. But his testimony was given with +due professional weight.</p> +<p>"You are a doctor of medicine, Doctor Littlefield?" asked the +district attorney.</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"In active practise?"</p> +<p>"I have a Cure for Inebriates in Des Moines, Iowa. I was +formerly in general practise in New York City."</p> +<p>"You knew Jennie Ladley?"</p> +<p>"I had seen her at different theaters. And she consulted me +professionally at one time in New York."</p> +<p>"You operated on her, I believe?"</p> +<p>"Yes. She came to me to have a name removed. It had been +tattooed over her heart."</p> +<p>"You removed it?"</p> +<p>"Not at once. I tried fading the marks with goat's milk, but she +was impatient. On the third visit to my office she demanded that +the name be cut out."</p> +<p>"You did it?"</p> +<p>"Yes. She refused a general anesthetic and I used cocaine. The +name was John—I believe a former husband. She intended to +marry again."</p> +<p>A titter ran over the court room. People strained to the utmost +are always glad of an excuse to smile. The laughter of a wrought-up +crowd always seems to me half hysterical.</p> +<p>"Have you seen photographs of the scar on the body found at +Sewickley? Or the body itself?"</p> +<p>"No, I have not."</p> +<p>"Will you describe the operation?"</p> +<p>"I made a transverse incision for the body of the name, and two +vertical ones—one longer for the <i>J</i>, the other shorter, +for the stem of the <i>h</i>. There was a dot after the name. I +made a half-inch incision for it."</p> +<p>"Will you sketch the cicatrix as you recall it?"</p> +<p>The doctor made a careful drawing on a pad that was passed to +him. The drawing was much like this.</p> +<br> +<p style="text-align: center;"><img style= +"width: 338px; height: 203px;" alt="" src="images/jb004.jpg"></p> +<p>Line for line, dot for dot, it was the scar on the body found at +Sewickley.</p> +<p>"You are sure the woman was Jennie Brice?"</p> +<p>"She sent me tickets for the theater shortly after. And I had an +announcement of her marriage to the prisoner, some weeks +later."</p> +<p>"Were there any witnesses to the operation?"</p> +<p>"My assistant; I can produce him at any time."</p> +<p>That was not all of the trial, but it was the decisive moment. +Shortly after, the jury withdrew, and for twenty-four hours not a +word was heard from them.</p> + + + + +<a name="CH15"><!-- CH15 --></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> +<p>After twenty-four hours' deliberation, the jury brought in a +verdict of guilty. It was a first-degree verdict. Mr. Howell's +unsupported word had lost out against a scar.</p> +<p>Contrary to my expectation, Mr. Holcombe was not jubilant over +the verdict. He came into the dining-room that night and stood by +the window, looking out into the yard.</p> +<p>"It isn't logical," he said. "In view of Howell's testimony, +it's ridiculous! Heaven help us under this jury system, anyhow! +Look at the facts! Howell knows the woman: he sees her on Monday +morning, and puts her on a train out of town. The boy is telling +the truth. He has nothing to gain by coming forward, and everything +to lose. Very well: she was alive on Monday. We know where she was +on Tuesday and Wednesday. Anyhow, during those days her gem of a +husband was in jail. He was freed Thursday night, and from that +time until his rearrest on the following Tuesday, I had him under +observation every moment. He left the jail Thursday night, and on +Saturday the body floated in at Sewickley. If it was done by +Ladley, it must have been done on Friday, and on Friday he was in +view through the periscope all day!"</p> +<p>Mr. Reynolds came in and joined us. "There's only one way out +that I see," he said mildly. "Two women have been fool enough to +have a name tattooed over their hearts. No woman ever thought +enough of me to have <i>my</i> name put on her."</p> +<p>"I hope not," I retorted. Mr. Reynold's first name is +Zachariah.</p> +<p>But, as Mr. Holcombe said, all that had been proved was that +Jennie Brice was dead, probably murdered. He could not understand +the defense letting the case go to the jury without their putting +more stress on Mr. Howell's story. But we were to understand that +soon, and many other things. Mr. Holcombe told me that evening of +learning from John Bellows of the tattooed name on Jennie Brice and +of how, after an almost endless search, he had found the man who +had cut the name away.</p> +<p>At eight o'clock the door-bell rang. Mr. Reynolds had gone to +lodge, he being an Elk and several other things, and much given to +regalia in boxes, and having his picture in the newspapers in +different outlandish costumes. Mr. Pitman used to say that man, +being denied his natural love for barbaric adornment in his +every-day clothing, took to the different fraternities as an excuse +for decking himself out. But this has nothing to do with the +door-bell.</p> +<p>It was old Isaac. He had a basket in his hand, and he stepped +into the hall and placed it on the floor.</p> +<p>"Evening, Miss Bess," he said. "Can you see a bit of company +to-night?"</p> +<p>"I can always see you," I replied. But he had not meant himself. +He stepped to the door, and opening it, beckoned to some one across +the street. It was Lida!</p> +<p>She came in, her color a little heightened, and old Isaac stood +back, beaming at us both; I believe it was one of the crowning +moments of the old man's life—thus to see his Miss Bess and +Alma's child together.</p> +<p>"Is—is he here yet?" she asked me nervously.</p> +<p>"I did not know he was coming." There was no need to ask which +"he." There was only one for Lida.</p> +<p>"He telephoned me, and asked me to come here. Oh, Mrs. Pitman, +I'm so afraid for him!" She had quite forgotten Isaac. I turned to +the school-teacher's room and opened the door. "The woman who +belongs here is out at a lecture," I said. "Come in here, Ikkie, +and I'll find the evening paper for you.</p> +<p>"'Ikkie'!" said Lida, and stood staring at me. I think I went +white.</p> +<p>"The lady heah and I is old friends," Isaac said, with his +splendid manner. "Her mothah, Miss Lida, her mothah—"</p> +<p>But even old Isaac choked up at that, and I closed the door on +him.</p> +<p>"How queer!" Lida said, looking at me. "So Isaac knew your +mother? Have you lived always in Allegheny, Mrs. Pitman?"</p> +<p>"I was born in Pittsburgh," I evaded. "I went away for a long +time, but I always longed for the hurry and activity of the old +home town. So here I am again."</p> +<p>Fortunately, like all the young, her own affairs engrossed her. +She was flushed with the prospect of meeting her lover, tremulous +over what the evening might bring. The middle-aged woman who had +come back to the hurry of the old town, and who, pushed back into +an eddy of the flood district, could only watch the activity and +the life from behind a "Rooms to Let" sign, did not concern her +much. Nor should she have.</p> +<p>Mr. Howell came soon after. He asked for her, and going back to +the dining-room, kissed her quietly. He had an air of resolve, a +sort of grim determination, that was a relief from the half-frantic +look he had worn before. He asked to have Mr. Holcombe brought +down, and so behold us all, four of us, sitting around the +table—Mr. Holcombe with his note-book, I with my mending, and +the boy with one of Lida's hands frankly under his on the red +table-cloth.</p> +<p>"I want to tell all of you the whole story," he began. +"To-morrow I shall go to the district attorney and confess, +but—I want you all to have it first. I can't sleep again +until I get it off my chest. Mrs. Pitman has suffered through me, +and Mr. Holcombe here has spent money and time—"</p> +<p>Lida did not speak, but she drew her chair closer, and put her +other hand over his.</p> +<p>"I want to get it straight, if I can. Let me see. It was on +Sunday, the fourth, that the river came up, wasn't it? Yes. Well, +on the Thursday before that I met you, Mr. Holcombe, in a +restaurant in Pittsburgh. Do you remember?"</p> +<p>Mr. Holcombe nodded.</p> +<p>"We were talking of crime, and I said no man should be hanged on +purely circumstantial evidence. You affirmed that a well-linked +chain of circumstantial evidence could properly hang a man. We had +a long argument, in which I was worsted. There was a third man at +the table—Bronson, the business manager of the Liberty +Theater."</p> +<p>"Who sided with you," put in Mr. Holcombe, "and whose views I +refused to entertain because, as publicity man for a theater, he +dealt in fiction rather than in fact."</p> +<p>"Precisely. You may recall, Mr. Holcombe, that you offered to +hang any man we would name, given a proper chain of circumstantial +evidence against him?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"After you left, Bronson spoke to me. He said business at the +theater was bad, and complained of the way the papers used, or +would not use, his stuff. He said the Liberty Theater had not had a +proper deal, and that he was tempted to go over and bang one of the +company on the head, and so get a little free advertising.</p> +<p>"I said he ought to be able to fake a good story; but he +maintained that a newspaper could smell a faked story a mile away, +and that, anyhow, all the good stunts had been pulled off. I agreed +with him. I remember saying that nothing but a railroad wreck or a +murder hit the public very hard these days, and that I didn't feel +like wrecking the Pennsylvania Limited.</p> +<p>"He leaned over the table and looked at me. 'Well, how about a +murder, then?' he said. 'You get the story for your paper, and I +get some advertising for the theater. We need it, that's sure.'</p> +<p>"I laughed it off, and we separated. But at two o'clock Bronson +called me up again. I met him in his office at the theater, and he +told me that Jennie Brice, who was out of the cast that week, had +asked for a week's vacation. She had heard of a farm at a town +called Horner, and she wanted to go there to rest.</p> +<p>"'Now the idea is this,' he said. 'She's living with her +husband, and he has threatened her life more than once. It would be +easy enough to frame up something to look as if he'd made away with +her. We'd get a week of excitement, more advertising than we'd +ordinarily get in a year; you get a corking news story, and find +Jennie Brice at the end, getting the credit for that. Jennie gets a +hundred dollars and a rest, and Ladley, her husband, gets, say, two +hundred.'</p> +<p>"Mr. Bronson offered to put up the money, and I agreed. The +flood came just then, and was considerable help. It made a good +setting. I went to my city editor, and got an assignment to +interview Ladley about this play of his. Then Bronson and I went +together to see the Ladleys on Sunday morning, and as they needed +money, they agreed. But Ladley insisted on fifty dollars a week +extra if he had to go to jail. We promised it, but we did not +intend to let things go so far as that.</p> +<p>"In the Ladleys' room that Sunday morning, we worked it all out. +The hardest thing was to get Jennie Brice's consent; but she +agreed, finally. We arranged a list of clues, to be left around, +and Ladley was to go out in the night and to be heard coming back. +I told him to quarrel with his wife that afternoon,—although +I don't believe they needed to be asked to do it,—and I +suggested also the shoe or slipper, to be found floating +around."</p> +<p>"Just a moment," said Mr. Holcombe, busy with his note-book. +"Did you suggest the onyx clock?"</p> +<p>"No. No clock was mentioned. The—the clock has puzzled +me."</p> +<p>"The towel?"</p> +<p>"Yes. I said no murder was complete without blood, but he kicked +on that—said he didn't mind the rest, but he'd be hanged if +he was going to slash himself. But, as it happened, he cut his +wrist while cutting the boat loose, and so we had the towel."</p> +<p>"Pillow-slip?" asked Mr. Holcombe.</p> +<p>"Well, no. There was nothing said about a pillow-slip. Didn't he +say he burned it accidentally?"</p> +<p>"So he claimed." Mr. Holcombe made another entry in his +book.</p> +<p>"Then I said every murder had a weapon. He was to have a pistol +at first, but none of us owned one. Mrs. Ladley undertook to get a +knife from Mrs. Pitman's kitchen, and to leave it around, not in +full view, but where it could be found."</p> +<p>"A broken knife?"</p> +<p>"No. Just a knife."</p> +<p>"He was to throw the knife into the water?"</p> +<p>"That was not arranged. I only gave him a general outline. He +was to add any interesting details that might occur to him. The +idea, of course, was to give the police plenty to work on, and just +when they thought they had it all, and when the theater had had a +lot of booming, and I had got a good story, to produce Jennie +Brice, safe and well. We were not to appear in it at all. It would +have worked perfectly, but we forgot to count on one +thing—Jennie Brice hated her husband."</p> +<p>"Not really hated him!" cried Lida.</p> +<p>"<i>Hated</i> him. She is letting him hang. She could save him +by coming forward now, and she won't do it. She is hiding so he +will go to the gallows."</p> +<p>There was a pause at that. It seemed too incredible, too +inhuman.</p> +<p>"Then, early that Monday morning, you smuggled Jennie Brice out +of the city?"</p> +<p>"Yes. That was the only thing we bungled. We fixed the hour a +little too late, and I was seen by Miss Harvey's uncle, walking +across the bridge with a woman."</p> +<p>"Why did you meet her openly, and take her to the train?"</p> +<p>Mr. Howell bent forward and smiled across at the little man. +"One of your own axioms, sir," he said. "Do the natural thing; +upset the customary order of events as little as possible. Jennie +Brice went to the train, because that was where she wanted to go. +But as Ladley was to protest that his wife had left town, and as +the police would be searching for a solitary woman, I went with +her. We went in a leisurely manner. I bought her a magazine and a +morning paper, asked the conductor to fix her window, and, in +general, acted the devoted husband seeing his wife off on a trip. I +even"—he smiled—"I even promised to feed the +canary."</p> +<p>Lida took her hands away. "Did you kiss her good-by?" she +demanded.</p> +<p>"Not even a chaste salute," he said. His spirits were rising. It +was, as often happens, as if the mere confession removed the guilt. +I have seen little boys who have broken a window show the same +relief after telling about it.</p> +<p>"For a day or two Bronson and I sat back, enjoying the stir-up. +Things turned out as we had expected. Business boomed at the +theater. I got a good story, and some few kind words from my city +editor. Then—the explosion came. I got a letter from Jennie +Brice saying she was going away, and that we need not try to find +her. I went to Horner, but I had lost track of her completely. Even +then, we did not believe things so bad as they turned out to be. We +thought she was giving us a bad time, but that she would show +up.</p> +<p>"Ladley was in a blue funk for a time. Bronson and I went to +him. We told him how the thing had slipped up. We didn't want to go +to the police and confess if we could help it. Finally, he agreed +to stick it out until she was found, at a hundred dollars a week. +It took all we could beg, borrow and steal. But now—we have +to come out with the story anyhow."</p> +<p>Mr. Holcombe sat up and closed his note-book with a snap. "I'm +not so sure of that," he said impressively. "I wonder if you +realize, young man, that, having provided a perfect defense for +this man Ladley, you provided him with every possible inducement to +make away with his wife? Secure in your coming forward at the last +minute and confessing the hoax to save him, was there anything he +might not have dared with impunity?"</p> +<p>"But I tell you I took Jennie Brice out of town on Monday +morning."</p> +<p>"<i>Did you</i>?" asked Mr. Holcombe sternly.</p> +<p>But at that, the school-teacher, having come home and found old +Isaac sound asleep in her cozy corner, set up such a screaming for +the police that our meeting broke up. Nor would Mr. Holcombe +explain any further.</p> + + + + +<a name="CH16"><!-- CH16 --></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> +<p>Mr. Holcombe was up very early the next morning. I heard him +moving around at five o'clock, and at six he banged at my door and +demanded to know at what time the neighborhood rose: he had been up +for an hour and there were no signs of life. He was more cheerful +after he had had a cup of coffee, commented on Lida's beauty, and +said that Howell was a lucky chap.</p> +<p>"That is what worries me, Mr. Holcombe," I said. "I am helping +the affair along and—what if it turns out badly?"</p> +<p>He looked at me over his glasses. "It isn't likely to turn out +badly," he said. "I have never married, Mrs. Pitman, and I have +missed a great deal out of life."</p> +<p>"Perhaps you're better off: if you had married and lost your +wife—" I was thinking of Mr. Pitman.</p> +<p>"Not at all," he said with emphasis. "It's better to have +married and lost than never to have married at all. Every man needs +a good woman, and it doesn't matter how old he is. The older he is, +the more he needs her. I am nearly sixty."</p> +<p>I was rather startled, and I almost dropped the fried potatoes. +But the next moment he had got out his note-book and was going over +the items again. "Pillow-slip," he said, "knife <i>broken</i>, onyx +clock—wouldn't think so much of the clock if he hadn't been +so damnably anxious to hide the key, the discrepancy in time as +revealed by the trial—yes, it is as clear as a bell. Mrs. +Pitman, does that Maguire woman next door sleep all day?"</p> +<p>"She's up now," I said, looking out the window.</p> +<p>He was in the hall in a moment, only to come to the door later, +hat in hand. "Is she the only other woman on the street who keeps +boarders?"</p> +<p>"She's the only woman who doesn't," I snapped. "She'll keep +anything that doesn't belong to her—except boarders."</p> +<p>"Ah!"</p> +<p>He lighted his corn-cob pipe and stood puffing at it and +watching me. He made me uneasy: I thought he was going to continue +the subject of every man needing a wife, and I'm afraid I had +already decided to take him if he offered, and to put the +school-teacher out and have a real parlor again, but to keep Mr. +Reynolds, he being tidy and no bother.</p> +<p>But when he spoke, he was back to the crime again: "Did you ever +work a typewriter?" he asked.</p> +<p>What with the surprise, I was a little sharp. "I don't play any +instrument except an egg-beater," I replied shortly, and went on +clearing the table.</p> +<p>"I wonder—do you remember about the village idiot and the +horse? But of course you do, Mrs. Pitman; you are a woman of +imagination. Don't you think you could be Alice Murray for a few +moments? Now think—you are a stenographer with theatrical +ambitions: you meet an actor and you fall in love with him, and he +with you."</p> +<p>"That's hard to imagine, that last."</p> +<p>"Not so hard," he said gently. "Now the actor is going to put +you on the stage, perhaps in this new play, and some day he is +going to marry you."</p> +<p>"Is that what he promised the girl?"</p> +<p>"According to some letters her mother found, yes. The actor is +married, but he tells you he will divorce the wife; you are to wait +for him, and in the meantime he wants you near him; away from the +office, where other men are apt to come in with letters to be +typed, and to chaff you. You are a pretty girl."</p> +<p>"It isn't necessary to overwork my imagination," I said, with a +little bitterness. I had been a pretty girl, but work and +worry—</p> +<p>"Now you are going to New York very soon, and in the meantime +you have cut yourself off from all your people. You have no one but +this man. What would you do? Where would you go?"</p> +<p>"How old was the girl?"</p> +<p>"Nineteen."</p> +<p>"I think," I said slowly, "that if I were nineteen, and in love +with a man, and hiding, I would hide as near him as possible. I'd +be likely to get a window that could see his going out and coming +in, a place so near that he could come often to see me."</p> +<p>"Bravo!" he exclaimed. "Of course, with your present wisdom and +experience, you would do nothing so foolish. But this girl was in +her teens; she was not very far away, for he probably saw her that +Sunday afternoon, when he was out for two hours. And as the going +was slow that day, and he had much to tell and explain, I figure +she was not far off. Probably in this very neighborhood."</p> +<p>During the remainder of that morning I saw Mr. Holcombe, at +intervals, going from house to house along Union Street, making +short excursions into side thoroughfares, coming back again and +taking up his door-bell ringing with unflagging energy. I watched +him off and on for two hours. At the end of that time he came back +flushed and excited.</p> +<p>"I found the house," he said, wiping his glasses. "She was +there, all right, not so close as we had thought, but as close as +she could get."</p> +<p>"And can you trace her?" I asked.</p> +<p>His face changed and saddened. "Poor child!" he said. "She is +dead, Mrs. Pitman!"</p> +<p>"Not she—at Sewickley!"</p> +<p>"No," he said patiently. "That was Jennie Brice."</p> +<p>"But—Mr. Howell—"</p> +<p>"Mr. Howell is a young ass," he said with irritation. "He did +not take Jennie Brice out of the city that morning. He took Alice +Murray in Jennie Brice's clothing, and veiled."</p> +<p>Well, that is five years ago. Five times since then the +Allegheny River, from being a mild and inoffensive stream, carrying +a few boats and a great deal of sewage, has become, a raging +destroyer, and has filled our hearts with fear and our cellars with +mud. Five times since then Molly Maguire has appropriated all that +the flood carried from my premises to hers, and five times have I +lifted my carpets and moved Mr. Holcombe, who occupies the parlor +bedroom, to a second-floor room.</p> +<p>A few days ago, as I said at the beginning, we found Peter's +body floating in the cellar, and as soon as the yard was dry, I +buried him. He had grown fat and lazy, but I shall miss him.</p> +<p>Yesterday a riverman fell off a barge along the water-front and +was drowned. They dragged the river for his body, but they did not +find him. But they found something—an onyx clock, with the +tattered remnant of a muslin pillow-slip wrapped around it. It only +bore out the story, as we had known it for five years.</p> +<p>The Murray girl had lived long enough to make a statement to the +police, although Mr. Holcombe only learned this later. On the +statement being shown to Ladley in the jail, and his learning of +the girl's death, he collapsed. He confessed before he was hanged, +and his confession, briefly, was like this:</p> +<p>He had met the Murray girl in connection with the typing of his +play, and had fallen in love with her. He had never cared for his +wife, and would have been glad to get rid of her in any way +possible. He had not intended to kill her, however. He had planned +to elope with the Murray girl, and awaiting an opportunity, had +persuaded her to leave home and to take a room near my house.</p> +<p>Here he had visited her daily, while his wife was at the +theater.</p> +<p>They had planned to go to New York together on Monday, March the +fifth. On Sunday, the fourth, however, Mr. Bronson and Mr. Howell +had made their curious proposition. When he accepted, Philip Ladley +maintained that he meant only to carry out the plan as suggested. +But the temptation was too strong for him. That night, while his +wife slept, he had strangled her.</p> +<br> +<a name="image-2"><!-- Image 2 --></a> +<p style="text-align: center;"><img style= +"width: 550px; height: 864px;" alt="While his wife slept" src= +"images/jb005.jpg"></p> +<p>I believe he was frantic with fear, after he had done it. Then +it occurred to him that if he made the body unrecognizable, he +would be safe enough. On that quiet Sunday night, when Mr. Reynolds +reported all peaceful in the Ladley room, he had cut off the poor +wretch's head and had tied it up in a pillow-slip weighted with my +onyx clock!</p> +<p>It is a curious fact about the case that the scar which his wife +incurred to enable her to marry him was the means of his undoing. +He insisted, and I believe he was telling the truth, that he did +not know of the scar: that is, his wife had never told him of it, +and had been able to conceal it. He thought she had probably used +paraffin in some way.</p> +<p>In his final statement, written with great care and no little +literary finish, he told the story in detail: of arranging the +clues as Mr. Howell and Mr. Bronson had suggested; of going out in +the boat, with the body, covered with a fur coat, in the bottom of +the skiff: of throwing it into the current above the Ninth Street +bridge, and of seeing the fur coat fall from the boat and carried +beyond his reach; of disposing of the head near the Seventh Street +bridge: of going to a drug store, as per the Howell instructions, +and of coming home at four o'clock, to find me at the head of the +stairs.</p> +<p>Several points of confusion remained. One had been caused by +Temple Hope's refusal to admit that the dress and hat that figured +in the case were to be used by her the next week at the theater. +Mr. Ladley insisted that this was the case, and that on that Sunday +afternoon his wife had requested him to take them to Miss Hope; +that they had quarreled as to whether they should be packed in a +box or in the brown valise, and that he had visited Alice Murray +instead. It was on the way there that the idea of finally getting +rid of Jennie Brice came to him. And a way—using the black +and white striped dress of the dispute.</p> +<p>Another point of confusion had been the dismantling of his room +that Monday night, some time between the visit of Temple Hope and +the return of Mr. Holcombe. This was to obtain the scrap of paper +containing the list of clues as suggested by Mr. Howell, a clue +that might have brought about a premature discovery of the +so-called hoax.</p> +<p>To the girl he had told nothing of his plan. But he had told her +she was to leave town on an early train the next morning, going as +his wife; that he wished her to wear the black and white dress and +hat, for reasons that he would explain later, and to be veiled +heavily, that to the young man who would put her on the train, and +who had seen Jennie Brice only once, she was to be Jennie Brice; to +say as little as possible and not to raise her veil. Her further +instructions were simple: to go to the place at Horner where Jennie +Brice had planned to go, but to use the name of "Bellows" there. +And after she had been there for a day or two, to go as quietly as +possible to New York. He gave her the address of a boarding-house +where he could write her, and where he would join her later.</p> +<p>He reasoned in this way: That as Alice Murray was to impersonate +Jennie Brice, and Jennie Brice hiding from her husband, she would +naturally discard her name. The name "Bellows" had been hers by a +previous marriage and she might easily resume it. Thus, to +establish his innocence, he had not only the evidence of Howell and +Bronson that the whole thing was a gigantic hoax; he had the +evidence of Howell that he had started Jennie Brice to Horner that +Monday morning, that she had reached Horner, had there assumed an +incognito, as Mr. Pitman would say, and had later disappeared from +there, maliciously concealing herself to work his undoing.</p> + +<p>In all probability he would have gone free, the richer by a hundred +dollars for each week of his imprisonment, but for two things: the +flood, which had brought opportunity to his door, had brought Mr +Holcombe to feed Peter, the dog. And the same flood, which should have +carried the headless body as far as Cairo, or even farther on down the +Mississippi, had rejected it in an eddy below a clay bluff at +Sewickley, with its pitiful covering washed from the scar.</p> + +<p>Well, it is all over now. Mr Ladley is dead, and Alice Murray, and +even Peter lies in the yard. Mr Reynolds made a small wooden cross +over Peter's grave, and carved "Till we meet again" on it. I dare say +the next flood will find it in Molly Maguire's kitchen.</p> + +<p>Mr Howell and Lida are married. Mr Howell inherited some money, I +believe, and what with that and Lida declaring she would either marry +him in a church or run off to Steubenville, Ohio, Alma had to consent. +I went to the wedding and stood near the door, while Alma swept in, in +lavender chiffon and rose point lace. She has not improved with age, +has Alma. But Lida? Lida, under my mother's wedding veil, with her +eyes like stars, seeing no one in the church in all that throng but +the boy who waited at the end of the long church aisle-I wanted to run +out and claim her, my own blood, my more than child.</p> + +<p>I sat down and covered my face. And from the pew behind me some one +leaned over and patted my shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Miss Bess!" old Isaac said gently. "Don't take on, Miss Bess!"</p> + +<p>He came the next day and brought me some lilies from the bride's +bouquet, that she had sent me, and a bottle of champagne from the +wedding supper. I had not tasted champagne for twenty years!</p> + +<p>That is all of the story. On summer afternoons sometimes, when the +house is hot, I go to the park and sit. I used to take Peter, but now +he is dead. I like to see Lida's little boy; the nurse knows me by +sight, and lets me talk to the child. He can say "Peter" quite +plainly. But he does not call Alma "Grandmother." The nurse says she +does not like it. He calls her "Nana."</p> + +<p>Lida does not forget me. Especially at flood-times, she always comes +to see if I am comfortable. The other day she brought me, with +apologies, the chiffon gown her mother had worn at her wedding. Alma +had never worn it but once, and now she was too stout for it. I took +it; I am not proud, and I should like Molly Maguire to see it.</p> + +<p>Mr. Holcombe asked me last night to marry him. He says he needs me, +and that I need him.</p> + +<p>I am a lonely woman, and getting old, and I'm tired of watching the +gas meter; and besides, with Peter dead, I need a man in the house all +the time. The flood district is none too orderly. Besides, when I have +a wedding dress laid away and a bottle of good wine, it seems a pity +not to use them.</p> + +<p>I think I shall do it.</p> + + +<center>THE END</center> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11127 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |