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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/1806-0.txt b/1806-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..557a1e2 --- /dev/null +++ b/1806-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1284 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Frame Up, by Richard Harding Davis + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Frame Up + +Author: Richard Harding Davis + +Posting Date: October 5, 2008 [EBook #1806] +Release Date: May, 1999 +Last Updated: September 26, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FRAME UP *** + + + + +Produced by Aaron Cannon + + + + + +THE FRAME UP + +by Richard Harding Davis + + +When the voice over the telephone promised to name the man who killed +Hermann Banf, District Attorney Wharton was up-town lunching at +Delmonico’s. This was contrary to his custom and a concession to +Hamilton Cutler, his distinguished brother-in-law. That gentleman was +interested in a State constabulary bill and had asked State Senator +Bissell to father it. He had suggested to the senator that, in the legal +points involved in the bill, his brother-in-law would undoubtedly be +charmed to advise him. So that morning, to talk it over, Bissell had +come from Albany and, as he was forced to return the same afternoon, had +asked Wharton to lunch with him up-town near the station. + +That in public life there breathed a man with soul so dead who, were he +offered a chance to serve Hamilton Cutler, would not jump at the chance +was outside the experience of the county chairman. And in so judging his +fellow men, with the exception of one man, the senator was right. The +one man was Hamilton Cutler’s brother-in-law. + +In the national affairs of his party Hamilton Cutler was one of the four +leaders. In two cabinets he had held office. At a foreign court as an +ambassador his dinners, of which the diplomatic corps still spoke with +emotion, had upheld the dignity of ninety million Americans. He was +rich. The history of his family was the history of the State. When the +Albany boats drew abreast of the old Cutler mansion on the cast bank of +the Hudson the passengers pointed at it with deference. Even when the +search lights pointed at it, it was with deference. And on Fifth +Avenue, as the “Seeing New York” car passed his town house it slowed +respectfully to half speed. When, apparently for no other reason than +that she was good and beautiful, he had married the sister of a then +unknown up State lawyer, every one felt Hamilton Cutler had made his +first mistake. But, like every thing else into which he entered, for him +matrimony also was a success. The prettiest girl in Utica showed herself +worthy of her distinguished husband. She had given him children as +beautiful as herself; as what Washington calls “a cabinet lady” she had +kept her name out of the newspapers; as Madame L’Ambassatrice she had +put archduchesses at their ease; and after ten years she was an adoring +wife, a devoted mother, and a proud woman. Her pride was in believing +that for every joy she knew she was indebted entirely to her husband. +To owe everything to him, to feel that through him the blessings flowed, +was her ideal of happiness. + +In this ideal her brother did not share. Her delight in a sense of +obligation left him quite cold. No one better than himself knew that +his rapid-fire rise in public favor was due to his own exertions, to the +fact that he had worked very hard, had been independent, had kept his +hands clean, and had worn no man’s collar. Other people believed he owed +his advancement to his brother-in-law. He knew they believed that, +and it hurt him. When, at the annual dinner of the Amen Corner, they +burlesqued him as singing to “Ham” Cutler, “You made me what I am +to-day, I hope you’re satisfied,” he found that to laugh with the others +was something of an effort. His was a difficult position. He was a +party man; he had always worked inside the organization. The fact that +whenever he ran for an elective office the reformers indorsed him and +the best elements in the opposition parties voted for him did not shake +his loyalty to his own people. And to Hamilton Cutler, as one of his +party leaders, as one of the bosses of the “invisible government,” he +was willing to defer. But while he could give allegiance to his party +leaders, and from them was willing to receive the rewards of office, +from a rich brother-in-law he was not at all willing to accept anything. +Still less was he willing that of the credit he deserved for years of +hard work for the party, of self-denial, and of efficient public service +the rich brother-in-law, should rob him. + +His pride was to be known as a self-made man, as the servant only of the +voters. And now that ambition, now that he was district attorney of +New York City, to have it said that the office was the gift of his +brother-in-law was bitter. But he believed the injustice would soon +end. In a month he was coming up for re-election, and night and day was +conducting a campaign that he hoped would result in a personal victory +so complete as to banish the shadow of his brother-in-law. Were he +re-elected by the majority on which he counted, he would have the party +leaders on their knees. Hamilton Cutler would be forced to come to him. +He would be in line for promotion. He knew the leaders did not want +to promote him, that they considered him too inclined to kick over the +traces; but were he now re-elected, at the next election, either for +mayor or governor, he would be his party’s obvious and legitimate +candidate. + +The re-election was not to be an easy victory. Outside his own party, +to prevent his succeeding himself as district attorney, Tammany Hall +was using every weapon in her armory. The commissioner of police was a +Tammany man, and in the public prints Wharton had repeatedly declared +that Banf, his star witness against the police, had been killed by the +police, and that they had prevented the discovery of his murderer. For +this the wigwam wanted his scalp, and to get it had raked his public and +private life, had used threats and bribes, and with women had tried to +trap him into a scandal. But “Big Tim” Meehan, the lieutenant the +Hall had detailed to destroy Wharton, had reported back that for their +purpose his record was useless, that bribes and threats only flattered +him, and that the traps set for him he had smilingly side-stepped. +This was the situation a month before election day when, to oblige his +brother-in-law, Wharton was up-town at Delmonico’s lunching with Senator +Bissell. + +Down-town at the office, Rumson, the assistant district attorney, was +on his way to lunch when the telephone-girl halted him. Her voice was +lowered and betrayed almost human interest. + +From the corner of her mouth she whispered: “This man has a note for Mr. +Wharton--says if he don’t get it quick it’ll be too late--says it will +tell him who killed ‘Heimie’ Banf!” + +The young man and the girl looked at each other and smiled. Their +experience had not tended to make them credulous. Had he lived, Hermann +Banf would have been, for Wharton, the star witness against a ring of +corrupt police officials. In consequence his murder was more than the +taking off of a shady and disreputable citizen. It was a blow struck +at the high office of the district attorney, at the grand jury, and the +law. But, so far, whoever struck the blow had escaped punishment, and +though for a month, ceaselessly, by night and day “the office” and the +police had sought him, he was still at large, still “unknown.” There had +been hundreds of clews. They had been furnished by the detectives of +the city and county and of the private agencies, by amateurs, by +news-papers, by members of the underworld with a score to pay off or to +gain favor. But no clew had led anywhere. When, in hoarse whispers, +the last one had been confided to him by his detectives, Wharton had +protested indignantly. + +“Stop bringing me clews!” he exclaimed. “I want the man. I can’t +electrocute a clew!” + +So when, after all other efforts, over the telephone a strange voice +offered to deliver the murderer, Rumson was skeptical. He motioned the +girl to switch to the desk telephone. + +“Assistant District Attorney Rumson speaking,” he said. “What can I do +for you?”’ + +Before the answer came, as though the speaker were choosing his words, +there was a pause. It lasted so long that Rumson exclaimed sharply: + +“Hello,” he called. “Do you want to speak to me, or do you want to speak +to me?” + +“I’ve gotta letter for the district attorney,” said the voice. “I’m to +give it to nobody but him. It’s about Banf. He must get it quick, or +it’ll be too late.” + +“Who are you?” demanded Rumson. “Where are you speaking from?” + +The man at the other end of the wire ignored the questions. + +“Where’ll Wharton be for the next twenty minutes?” + +“If I tell you,” parried Rumson, “will you bring the letter at once?” + The voice exclaimed indignantly: + +“Bring nothing! I’ll send it by district messenger. You’re wasting time +trying to reach me. It’s the LETTER you want. It tells----” the voice +broke with an oath and instantly began again: “I can’t talk over a +phone. I tell you, it’s life or death. If you lose out, it’s your own +fault. Where can I find Wharton?” + +“At Delmonico’s,” answered Rumson. “He’ll be there until two o’clock.” + “Delmonico’s! That’s Forty-fort Street?” “Right,” said Rumson. “Tell the +messenger----” He heard the receiver slam upon the hook. With the light +of the hunter in his eyes, he turned to the girl. + +“They can laugh,” he cried, “but I believe we’ve hooked something. I’m +going after it.” In the waiting-room he found the detectives. “Hewitt,” + he ordered, “take the subway and whip up to Delmonico’s. Talk to the +taxi-starter till a messenger-boy brings a letter for the D. A. Let the +boy deliver the note, and then trail him till he reports to the man he +got it from. Bring the man here. If it’s a district messenger and he +doesn’t report, but goes straight back to the office, find out who gave +him the note; get his description. Then meet me at Delmonico’s.” + +Rumson called up that restaurant and had Wharton come to the phone. +He asked his chief to wait until a letter he believed to be of great +importance was delivered to him. He explained, but, of necessity, +somewhat sketchily. “It sounds to me,” commented his chief, “like a plot +of yours to get a lunch up-town.” + +“Invitation!” cried Rumson. “I’ll be with you in ten minutes.” + +After Rumson had joined Wharton and Bissell the note arrived. It was +brought to the restaurant by a messenger-boy, who said that in answer to +a call from a saloon on Sixth Avenue he had received it from a young man +in ready-to-wear clothes and a green hat. When Hewitt, the detective, +asked what the young man looked like, the boy said he looked like a +young man in ready-to-wear clothes and a green hat. But when the note +was read the identity of the man who delivered it ceased to be of +importance. The paper on which it was written was without stamped +address or monogram, and carried with it the mixed odors of the +drug-store at which it had been purchased. The handwriting was that of a +woman, and what she had written was: “If the district attorney will come +at once, and alone, to Kessler’s Cafe, on the Boston Post Road, near the +city line, he will be told who killed Hermann Banf. If he don’t come in +an hour, it will be too late. If he brings anybody with him, he won’t +be told anything. Leave your car in the road and walk up the drive. Ida +Earle.” + +Hewitt, who had sent away the messenger-boy and had been called in to +give expert advice, was enthusiastic. + +“Mr. District Attorney,” he cried, “that’s no crank letter. This +Earle woman is wise. You got to take her as a serious proposition. She +wouldn’t make that play if she couldn’t get away with it.” + +“Who is she?” asked Wharton. + +To the police, the detective assured them, Ida Earle had been known for +years. When she was young she had been under the protection of a man +high in the ranks of Tammany, and, in consequence, with her different +ventures the Police had never interfered. She now was proprietress of +the road-house in the note described as Kessler’s Cafe. It was a place +for joy-riders. There was a cabaret, a hall for public dancing, and +rooms for very private suppers. + +In so far as it welcomed only those who could spend money it was +exclusive, but in all other respects its reputation was of the worst. In +situation it was lonely, and from other houses separated by a quarter of +a mile of dying trees and vacant lots. + +The Boston Post Road upon which it faced was the old post road, but +lately, through this back yard and dumping-ground of the city, had been +relaid. It was patrolled only and infrequently by bicycle policemen. +“But this,” continued the detective eagerly, “is where we win out. The +road-house is an old farmhouse built over, with the barns changed into +garages. They stand on the edge of a wood. It’s about as big as a city +block. If we come in through the woods from the rear, the garages will +hide us. Nobody in the house can see us, but we won’t be a hundred yards +away. You’ve only to blow a police whistle and we’ll be with you.” + +“You mean I ought to go?” said Wharton. + +Rumson exclaimed incredulously: “You got to go!” + +“It looks to me,” objected Bissell, “like a plot to get you there alone +and rap you on the head.” “Not with that note inviting him there,” + protested Hewitt, “and signed by Earle herself.” + +“You don’t know she signed it?” objected the senator. + +“I know her,” returned the detective. “I know she’s no fool. It’s her +place, and she wouldn’t let them pull off any rough stuff there--not +against the D. A. anyway.” + +The D. A. was rereading the note. “Might this be it?” he asked. +“Suppose it’s a trick to mix me up in a scandal? You say the place is +disreputable. Suppose they’re planning to compromise me just before +election. They’ve tried it already several times.” + +“You’ve still got the note,” persisted Hewitt. “It proves why you went +there. And the senator, too. He can testify. And we won’t be hundred +yards away. And,” he added grudgingly, “you have Nolan.” + +Nolan was the spoiled child of ‘the office.’ He was the district +attorney’s pet. Although still young, he had scored as a detective and +as a driver of racing-cars. As Wharton’s chauffeur he now doubled the +parts. + +“What Nolan testified wouldn’t be any help,” said Wharton. “They would +say it was just a story he invented to save me.” + +“Then square yourself this way,” urged Rumson. “Send a note now by hand +to Ham Cutler and one to your sister. Tell them you’re going to Ida +Earle’s--and why--tell them you’re afraid it’s a frame-up, and for them +to keep your notes as evidence. And enclose the one from her.” + +Wharton nodded in approval, and, while he wrote, Rumson and the +detective planned how, without those inside the road-house being aware +of their presence, they might be near it. + +Kessler’s Cafe lay in the Seventy-ninth Police Precinct. In taxi-cabs +they arranged to start at once and proceed down White Plains Avenue, +which parallels the Boston Road, until they were on a line with +Kessler’s, but from it hidden by the woods and the garages. A walk of a +quarter of a mile across lots and under cover of the trees would bring +them to within a hundred yards of the house. + +Wharton was to give them a start of half an hour. That he might know +they were on watch, they agreed, after they dismissed the taxi-cabs, to +send one of them into the Boston Post Road past the road-house. When it +was directly in front of the cafe, the chauffeur would throw away into +the road an empty cigarette-case. + +From the cigar-stand they selected a cigarette box of a startling +yellow. At half a mile it was conspicuous. + +“When you see this in the road,” explained Rumson, “you’ll know we’re on +the job. And after you’re inside, if you need us, you’ve only to go to a +rear window and wave.” + +“If they mean to do him up,” growled Bissell, “he won’t get to a rear +window.” + +“He can always tell them we’re outside,” said Rumson----“and they are +extremely likely to believe him. Do you want a gun?” + +“No,” said the D. A. + +“Better have mine,”’ urged Hewitt. + +“I have my own,” explained the D. A. + + Rumson and Hewitt set off in taxi-cabs and, a half-hour later, +Wharton followed. As he sank back against the cushions of the big +touring-car he felt a pleasing thrill of excitement, and as he passed +the traffic police, and they saluted mechanically, he smiled. Had they +guessed his errand their interest in his progress would have been less +perfunctory. In half an hour he might know that the police killed Banf; +in half an hour he himself might walk into a trap they had, in turn, +staged for him. As the car ran swiftly through the clean October air, +and the wind and sun alternately chilled and warmed his blood, Wharton +considered these possibilities. + +He could not believe the woman Earle would lend herself to any plot to +do him bodily harm. She was a responsible person. In her own world +she was as important a figure as was the district attorney in his. Her +allies were the man “higher up” in Tammany and the police of the upper +ranks of the uniformed force. And of the higher office of the district +attorney she possessed an intimate and respectful knowledge. It was +not to be considered that against the prosecuting attorney such a woman +would wage war. So the thought that upon his person any assault was +meditated Wharton dismissed as unintelligent. That it was upon his +reputation the attack was planned seemed much more probable. But that +contingency he had foreseen and so, he believed, forestalled. There then +remained only the possibility that the offer in the letter was genuine. +It seemed quite too good to be true. For, as he asked himself, on the +very eve of an election, why should Tammany, or a friend of Tammany, +place in his possession the information that to the Tammany candidate +would bring inevitable defeat. He felt that the way they were playing +into his hands was too open, too generous. If their object was to lead +him into a trap, of all baits they might use the promise to tell him who +killed Banf was the one certain to attract him. It made their invitation +to walk into the parlor almost too obvious. But were the offer not +genuine, there was a condition attached to it that puzzled him. It was +not the condition that stipulated he should come alone. His experience +had taught him many will confess, or betray, to the district attorney +who, to a deputy, will tell nothing. The condition that puzzled him was +the one that insisted he should come at once or it would be “too late.” + +Why was haste so imperative? Why, if he delayed, would he be “too late”? +Was the man he sought about to escape from his jurisdiction, was he +dying, and was it his wish to make a death-bed confession; or was he so +reluctant to speak that delay might cause him to reconsider and remain +silent? + +With these questions in his mind, the minutes quickly passed, and it +was with a thrill of excitement Wharton saw that Nolan had left the +Zoological Gardens on the right and turned into the Boston Road. It had +but lately been completed and to Wharton was unfamiliar. On either side +of the unscarred roadway still lay scattered the uprooted trees and +boulders that had blocked its progress, and abandoned by the contractors +were empty tar-barrels, cement-sacks, tool-sheds, and forges. Nor +was the surrounding landscape less raw and unlovely. Toward the Sound +stretched vacant lots covered with ash heaps; to the left a few old and +broken houses set among the glass-covered cold frames of truck-farms. + +The district attorney felt a sudden twinge of loneliness. And when an +automobile sign told him he was “10 miles from Columbus Circle,” he felt +that from the New York he knew he was much farther. Two miles up the +road his car overhauled a bicycle policeman, and Wharton halted him. + +“Is there a road-house called Kessler’s beyond here?” he asked. + +“On the left, farther up,” the officer told him, and added: “You can’t +miss it Mr. Wharton; there’s no other house near it.” + +“You know me,” said the D.A. “Then you’ll understand what I want you to +do. I’ve agreed to go to that house alone. If they see you pass they may +think I’m not playing fair. So stop here.” + +The man nodded and dismounted. + +“But,” added the district attorney, as the car started forward again, +“If you hear shots, I don’t care how fast you come.” + +The officer grinned. + +“Better let me trail along now,” he called; “that’s a tough joint.” + +But Wharton motioned him back; and when again he turned to look the man +still stood where they had parted. + +Two minutes later an empty taxi-cab came swiftly toward him and, as it +passed, the driver lifted his hand from the wheel, and with his thumb +motioned behind him. + +“That’s one of the men,” said Nolan, “that started with Mr. Rumson and +Hewitt from Delmonico’s.” + +Wharton nodded; and, now assured that in their plan there had been no +hitch, smiled with satisfaction. A moment later, when ahead of them on +the asphalt road Nolan pointed out a spot of yellow, he recognized the +signal and knew that within call were friends. + +The yellow cigarette-box lay directly in front of a long wooden building +of two stories. It was linked to the road by a curving driveway marked +on either side by whitewashed stones. + +On verandas enclosed In glass Wharton saw white-covered tables under +red candle-shade and, protruding from one end of the house and hung with +electric lights in paper lanterns, a pavilion for dancing. In the rear +of the house stood sheds and a thick tangle of trees on which the +autumn leaves showed yellow painted fingers and arrows pointing, and an +electric sign, proclaimed to all who passed that this was Kessler’s. In +spite of its reputation, the house wore the aspect of the commonplace. +In evidence nothing flaunted, nothing threatened From a dozen other inns +along the Pelham Parkway and the Boston Post Road it was no way to be +distinguished. + +As directed in the note, Wharton left the car in the road. “For five +minutes stay where you are,” he ordered Nolan; “then go to the bar and +get a drink. Don’t talk to any one or they’ll think you’re trying to get +information. Work around to the back of the house. Stand where I can see +you from the window. I may want you to carry a message to Mr. Rumson.” + +On foot Wharton walked up the curved drive-way, and if from the house +his approach was spied upon, there was no evidence. In the second story +the blinds were drawn and on the first floor the verandas were empty. +Nor, not even after he had mounted to the veranda and stepped inside +the house, was there any sign that his visit was expected. He stood in a +hall, and in front of him rose a broad flight of stairs that he guessed +led to the private supper-rooms. On his left was the restaurant. + +Swept and garnished after the revels of the night previous, and as +though resting in preparation for those to come, it an air of peaceful +inactivity. At a table a maitre d’ho’tel was composing the menu for the +evening, against the walls three colored waiters lounged sleepily, and +on a platform at a piano a pale youth with drugged eyes was with one +hand picking an accompaniment. As Wharton paused uncertainly the young +man, disdaining his audience, in a shrill, nasal tenor raised his voice +and sang: + + “And from the time the rooster calls I’ll wear my overalls, + And you, a simple gingham gown. So, if you’re strong for a +shower of rice, We two could make a paradise Of any One-Horse Town.” + +At sight of Wharton the head waiter reluctantly detached himself from +his menu and rose. But before he could greet the visitor, Wharton heard +his name spoken and, looking up, saw a woman descending the stairs. It +was apparent that when young she had been beautiful, and, in spite of an +expression in her eyes of hardness and distrust, which seemed habitual, +she was still handsome. She was without a hat and wearing a house dress +of decorous shades and in the extreme of fashion. Her black hair, built +up in artificial waves, was heavy with brilliantine; her hands, covered +deep with rings, and of an unnatural white, showed the most fastidious +care. But her complexion was her own; and her skin, free from paint +and powder, glowed with that healthy pink that is supposed to be the +perquisite only of the simple life and a conscience undisturbed. + +“I am Mrs. Earle,” said the woman. “I wrote you that note. Will you +please come this way?” + +That she did not suppose he might not come that way was obvious, for, as +she spoke, she turned her back on him and mounted the stairs. After an +instant of hesitation, Wharton followed. + +As well as his mind, his body was now acutely alive and vigilant. Both +physically and mentally he moved on tiptoe. For whatever surprise, for +whatever ambush might lie in wait, he was prepared. At the top of the +stairs he found a wide hall along which on both sides were many doors. +The one directly facing the stairs stood open. At one side of this the +woman halted and with a gesture of the jewelled fingers invited him to +enter. + +“My sitting-room,” she said. As Wharton remained motionless she +substituted: “My office.” + +Peering into the room, Wharton found it suited to both titles. He saw +comfortable chairs, vases filled with autumn leaves, in silver frames +photographs, and between two open windows a business-like roller-top +desk on which was a hand telephone. In plain sight through the windows +he beheld the garage and behind it the tops of trees. To summon Rumson, +to keep in touch with Nolan, he need only step to one of these windows +and beckon. The strategic position of the room appealed, and with a +bow of the head he passed in front of his hostess and entered it. He +continued to take note of his surroundings. + +He now saw that from the office in which he stood doors led to rooms +adjoining. These doors were shut, and he determined swiftly that before +the interview began he first must know what lay behind them. Mrs. Earle +had followed and, as she entered, closed the door. + +“No!” said Wharton. + +It was the first time he had spoken. For an instant the woman hesitated, +regarding him thoughtfully, and then without resentment pulled the door +open. She came toward him swiftly, and he was conscious of the rustle of +silk and the stirring of perfumes. At the open door she cast a frown of +disapproval and then, with her face close to his, spoke hurriedly in a +whisper. + +“A man brought a girl here to lunch,” she said; “they’ve been here +before. The girl claims the man told her he was going to marry her. +Last night she found out he has a wife already, and she came here to-day +meaning to make trouble. She brought a gun. They were in the room at the +far end of the hall. George, the water, heard the two shots and ran down +here to get me. No one else heard. These rooms are fixed to keep out +noise, and the piano was going. We broke in and found them on the floor. +The man was shot through the shoulder, the girl through the body. His +story is that after she fired, in trying to get the gun from her, she +shot herself-by accident. That’s right, I guess. But the girl says +they came here to die together--what the newspaper call a ‘suicide +pact’--because they couldn’t marry, and that he first shot her, +intending to kill her and then himself. That’s silly. She framed it to +get him. She missed him with the gun, so now she’s trying to get him +with this murder charge. I know her. If she’d been sober she wouldn’t +have shot him; she’d have blackmailed him. She’s that sort. I know her, +and----” + + With an exclamation the district attorney broke in upon her. “And +the man,” he demanded eagerly; “was it HE killed Banf?” + +In amazement the woman stared. “Certainly NOT!” she said. + +“Then what HAS this to do with Banf?” + +“Nothing!” Her tone was annoyed, reproachful. “That was only to bring +you here.” + +His disappointment was so keen that it threatened to exhibit itself +in anger. Recognizing this, before he spoke Wharton forced himself to +pause. Then he repeated her words quietly. + +“Bring me here?” he asked. “Why?” + +The woman exclaimed impatiently: “So you could beat the police to it,” + she whispered. “So you could HUSH IT UP!” + +The surprised laugh of the man was quite real. It bore no resentment or +pose. He was genuinely amused. Then the dignity of his office, tricked +and insulted, demanded to be heard. He stared at her coldly; his +indignation was apparent. + +“You have done extremely ill,” he told her. “You know perfectly well +you had no right to bring me up here; to drag me into a row in your +road-house. ‘Hush it up!’” he exclaimed hotly. This time his laugh was +contemptuous and threatening. “I’ll show you how I’ll hush it up!” He +moved quickly to the open window. + +“Stop!” commanded the woman. “You can’t do that!” She ran to the door. + +Again he was conscious of the rustle of silk, of the stirring of +perfumes. + +He heard the key turn in the lock. It had Come. It was a frame-up. There +would be a scandal. And to save himself from it they would force him +to “hush up” this other one. But, as to the outcome, in no way was he +concerned. Through the window, standing directly below it, he had seen +Nolan. In the sunlit yard the chauffeur, his cap on the back of his +head, his cigarette drooping from his lips, was tossing the remnants of +a sandwich to a circle of excited hens. He presented a picture of bored +indolence, of innocent preoccupation. It was almost too well done. + +Assured of a witness for the defense, he greeted the woman with a smile. +“Why can’t I do it?” he taunted. + +She ran close to him and laid her hands on his arm. Her eyes were +fixed steadily on his. “Because,” she whispered, “the man who shot that +girl-is your brother-in-law, Ham Cutler!” + +For what seemed a long time Wharton stood looking down into the eyes of +the woman, and the eyes never faltered. Later he recalled that in the +sudden silence many noises disturbed the lazy hush of the Indian-summer +afternoon: the rush of a motor-car on the Boston Road, the tinkle of +the piano and the voice of the youth with the drugged eyes singing, “And +you’ll wear a simple gingham gown,” from the yard below the cluck-cluck +of the chickens and the cooing of pigeons. + +His first thought was of his sister and of her children, and of what +this bomb, hurled from the clouds, would mean to her. He thought +of Cutler, at the height of his power and usefulness, by this one +disreputable act dragged into the mire, of what disaster it might bring +to the party, to himself. + +If, as the woman invited, he helped to “hush it up,” and Tammany learned +the truth, it would make short work of him. It would say, for the +murderer of Banf he had one law and for the rich brother-in-law, who had +tried to kill the girl he deceived, another. But before he gave voice to +his thoughts he recognized them as springing only from panic. They were +of a part with the acts of men driven by sudden fear, and of which acts +in their sane moments they would be incapable. + +The shock of the woman’s words had unsettled his traditions. Not only +was he condemning a man unheard, but a man who, though he might dislike +him, he had for years, for his private virtues, trusted and admired. The +panic passed and with a confident smile he shook his head. + +“I don’t believe you,” he said quietly. + +The manner of the woman was equally calm, equally assured. + +“Will you see her?” she asked. + +“I’d rather see my brother-in-law,” he answered + +The woman handed him a card. + +“Doctor Muir took him to his private hospital,” she said. “I loaned them +my car because it’s a limousine. The address is on that card. But,” she +added, “both your brother and Sammy--that’s Sam Muir, the doctor--asked +you wouldn’t use the telephone; they’re afraid of a leak.” + +Apparently Wharton did not hear her. As though it were “Exhibit A,” + presented in evidence by the defense, he was studying the card she had +given him. He stuck it in his pocket. + +“I’ll go to him at once,” he said. + +To restrain or dissuade him, the woman made no sudden move. In level +tones she said: + +“Your brother-in-law asked especially that you wouldn’t do that until +you’d fixed it with the girl. Your face is too well known. He’s afraid +some one might find out where he is--and for a day or two no one must +know that.” + +“This doctor knows it,” retorted Wharton. + +The suggestion seemed to strike Mrs. Earle as humorous. For the first +time she laughed. “Sammy!” she exclaimed. “He’s a lobbygow of mine. He’s +worked for me for years. I could send him up the river if I liked. He +knows it.” Her tone was convincing. “They both asked,” she continued +evenly, “you should keep off until the girl is out of the country, and +fixed.” Wharton frowned thoughtfully. + +And, observing this, the eyes of the woman showed that, so far, toward +the unfortunate incident the attitude of the district attorney was to +her most gratifying. Wharton ceased frowning. “How fixed?” he asked. +Mrs. Earle shrugged her shoulders. + +“Cutler’s idea is money,” she said; “but, believe me, he’s wrong. This +girl is a vampire. She’ll only come back to you for more. She’ll keep on +threatening to tell the wife, to tell the papers. The way to fix her is +to throw a scare into her. And there’s only one man can do that; there’s +only one man that can hush this thing up--that’s you.” + +“When can I see her?” asked Wharton. + +“Now,” said the woman. “I’ll bring her.” Wharton could not suppress an +involuntary “Here?” he exclaimed. + +For the shade of a second Mrs. Earle exhibited the slightest evidence of +embarrassment. + +“My room’s in a mess,” she explained; “and she’s not hurt so much as +Sammy said. He told her she was in bad just to keep her quiet until you +got here.” + +Mrs. Earle opened one of the doors leading from the room. “I won’t be a +minute,” she said. Quietly she closed the door behind her. + +Upon her disappearance the manner of the district attorney underwent an +abrupt change. He ran softly to the door opposite the one through which +Mrs. Earle had passed, and pulled it open. But, if beyond it he expected +to find an audience of eavesdroppers, he was disappointed. The room was +empty, and bore no evidence of recent occupation.. He closed the door, +and, from the roller-top desk, snatching a piece of paper, scribbled +upon it hastily. Wrapping the paper around a coin, and holding it +exposed to view, he showed himself at the window. Below him, to an +increasing circle of hens and pigeons, Nolan was still scattering +crumbs. Without withdrawing his gaze from them, the chauffeur nodded. +Wharton opened his hand and the note fell into the yard. Behind him he +heard the murmur of voices, the sobs of a woman in pain, and the rattle +of a door-knob. As from the window he turned quickly, he saw that toward +the spot where his note had fallen Nolan was tossing the last remnants +of his sandwich. + +The girl who entered with Mrs. Earle, leaning on her and supported by +her, was tall and fair. Around her shoulders her blond hair hung in +disorder, and around her waist, under the kimono Mrs. Earle had +thrown about her, were wrapped many layers of bandages. The girl moved +unsteadily and sank into a chair. + +In a hostile tone Mrs. Earle addressed her. + +“Rose,” she said, “this is the district attorney.” To him she added: +“She calls herself Rose Gerard.” + +One hand the girl held close against her side, with the other she +brushed back the hair from her forehead. From half-closed eyes she +stared at Wharton defiantly. + +“Well,” she challenged, “what about it?” + +Wharton seated himself in front of the roller-top desk. + +“Are you strong enough to tell me?” he asked. + +His tone was kind, and this the girl seemed to resent. + +“Don’t you worry,” she sneered, “I’m strong enough. Strong enough to +tell all I know--to you, and to the papers, and to a jury--until I get +justice.” She clinched her free hand and feebly shook it at him. “THAT’S +what I’m going to get,” she cried, her voice breaking hysterically, +“justice.” + +From behind the arm-chair in which the girl half-reclined Mrs. Earle +caught the eye of the district attorney and shrugged her shoulders. + +“Just what DID happen?” asked Wharton. + +Apparently with an effort the girl pulled herself together. + +“I first met your brother-in-law----” she began. + +Wharton interrupted quietly. + +“Wait!” he said. “You are not talking to me as anybody’s brother-in-law, +but as the district attorney.” + +The girl laughed vindictively. + +“I don’t wonder you’re ashamed of him!” she jeered. + +Again she began: “I first met Ham Cutler last May. He wanted to marry me +then. He told me he was not a married man.” + +As her story unfolded, Wharton did not again interrupt; and speaking +quickly, in abrupt, broken phrases, the girl brought her narrative to +the moment when, as she claimed, Cutler had attempted to kill her. +At this point a knock at the locked door caused both the girl and her +audience to start. Wharton looked at Mrs. Earle inquiringly, but she +shook her head, and with a look at him also of inquiry, and of suspicion +as well, opened the door. + +With apologies her head waiter presented a letter. + +“For Mr. Wharton,” he explained, “from his chauffeur.” + +Wharton’s annoyance at the interruption was most apparent. “What the +devil----” he began. + +He read the note rapidly, and with a frown of irritation raised his eyes +to Mrs. Earle. + +“He wants to go to New Rochelle for an inner tube,” he said. “How long +would it take him to get there and back?” + +The hard and distrustful expression upon the face of Mrs. Earle, which +was habitual, was now most strongly in evidence. Her eyes searched those +of Wharton. + +“Twenty minutes, she said. + +“He can’t go,” snapped Wharton. + +“Tell him,” he directed the waiter, “to stay where he is. Tell him I +may want to go back to the office any minute.” He turned eagerly to the +girl. “I’m sorry,” he said. With impatience he crumpled the note into a +ball and glanced about him. At his feet was a waste-paper basket. Fixed +upon him he saw, while pretending not to see, the eyes of Mrs. Earle +burning with suspicion. If he destroyed the note, he knew suspicion +would become certainty. Without an instant of hesitation, carelessly +he tossed it intact into the waste-paper basket. Toward Rose Gerard he +swung the revolving chair. + +“Go on, Please,” he commanded. + +The girl had now reached the climax of her story, but the eyes of +Mrs. Earle betrayed the fact that her thoughts were elsewhere. With +an intense and hungry longing, they were concentrated upon her own +waste-paper basket. + +The voice of the girl in anger and defiance recalled Mrs. Earle to the +business of the moment. + +“He tried to kill me,” shouted Miss Rose. “And his shooting himself in +the shoulder was a bluff. THAT’S my story; that’s the story I’m going +to tell the judge”--her voice soared shrilly--“that’s the story that’s +going to send your brother-in-law to Sing Sing!” + +For the first time Mrs. Earle contributed to the general conversation. + +“You talk like a fish,” she said. + +The girl turned upon her savagely. + +“If he don’t like the way I talk,” she cried, “he can come across!” + +Mrs. Earle exclaimed in horror. Virtuously her hands were raised in +protest. + +“Like hell he will!” she said. “You can’t pull that under my roof!” + Wharton looked disturbed. + +“Come across?” he asked. + +“Come across?” mimicked the girl. “Send me abroad and keep me there. And +I’ll swear it was an accident. Twenty-five thousand, that’s all I want. +Cutler told me he was going to make you governor. He can’t make you +governor if he’s in Sing Sing, can he? Ain’t it worth twenty-five +thousand to you to be governor? Come on,” she jeered, “kick in!” + +With a grave but untroubled voice Wharton addressed Mrs. Earle. + +“May I use your telephone?” he asked. He did not wait for her consent, +but from the desk lifted the hand telephone. + +“Spring, three one hundred!” he said. He sat with his legs comfortably +crossed, the stand of the instrument balanced on his knee, his eyes +gazing meditatively at the yellow tree-tops. + +If with apprehension both women started, if the girl thrust herself +forward, and by the hand of Mrs. Earle was dragged back, he did not +appear to know it. + +“Police headquarters?” they heard him ask. “I want to speak to the +commissioner. This is the district attorney.” + +In the pause that followed, as though to torment her, the pain, in her +side apparently turned, for the girl screamed sharply. + +“Be still!” commanded the older woman. Breathless, across the top of the +arm-chair, she was leaning forward. Upon the man at the telephone her +eyes were fixed in fascination. + +“Commissioner,” said the district attorney, “this is Wharton speaking. +A woman has made a charge of attempted murder to me against my +brother-in-law, Hamilton Cutler. On account of our relationship, I want +you to make the arrest. If there were any slip, and he got away, it +might be said I arranged it. You will find him at the Winona apartments +on the Southern Boulevard, in the private hospital of a Doctor Samuel +Muir. Arrest them both. The girl who makes the charge is at Kessler’s +Cafe, on the Boston Post Road, just inside the city line. Arrest her +too. She tried to blackmail me. I’ll appear against her.” + +Wharton rose and addressed himself to Mrs. Earle. + +“I’m, sorry,” he said, “but I had to do it. You might have known I could +not hush it up. I am the only man who can’t hush it up. The people of +New York elected me to enforce the laws.” Wharton’s voice was raised to +a loud pitch. It seemed unnecessarily loud. It was almost as though he +were addressing another and more distant audience. “And,” he continued, +his voice still soaring, “even if my own family suffer, even if I +suffer, even if I lose political promotion, those laws I will enforce!” + In the more conventional tone of every-day politeness, he added: “May I +speak to you outside, Mrs. Earle?” + +But, as in silence that lady descended the stairs, the district attorney +seemed to have forgotten what it was he wished to say. + +It was not until he had seen his chauffeur arouse himself from +apparently deep slumber and crank the car that he addressed her. + +“That girl,” he said, “had better go back to bed. My men are all around +this house and, until the police come, will detain her.” + +He shook the jewelled fingers of Mrs. Earle warmly. “I thank you,” he +said; “I know you meant well. I know you wanted to help me, but”--he +shrugged his shoulders--“my duty!” + +As he walked down the driveway to his car his shoulders continued to +move. + +But Mrs. Earle did not wait to observe this phenomenon. Rid of his +presence, she leaped, rather than ran, up the stairs and threw open the +door of her office. + +As she entered, two men followed her. One was a young man who held in +his hand an open note-book, the other was Tim Meehan, of Tammany. The +latter greeted her with a shout. + +“We heard everything he said,” he cried. His voice rose in torment. “An’ +we can’t use a word of it! He acted just like we’d oughta knowed he’d +act. He’s HONEST! He’s so damned honest he ain’t human; he’s a--gilded +saint!” + +Mrs. Earle did not heed him. On her knees she was tossing to the floor +the contents of the waste-paper basket. From them she snatched a piece +of crumpled paper. + +“Shut up!” she shouted. “Listen! His chauffeur brought him this.” In a +voice that quivered with indignation, that sobbed with anger, she read +aloud: + +“‘As directed by your note from the window, I went to the booth +and called up Mrs. Cutler’s house and got herself on the phone. Your +brother-in-law lunched at home to-day with her and the children and they +are now going to the Hippodrome. + +“Stop, look, and listen! Back of the bar I see two men in a room, but +they did not see me. One is Tim Meehan, the other is a stenographer. +He is taking notes. Each of them has on the ear-muffs of a dictagraph. +Looks like you’d better watch your step and not say nothing you don’t +want Tammany to print.’” The voice of Mrs. Earle rose in a shrill +shriek. + +“Him--a gilded saint?” she screamed; “you big stiff! He knew he was +talking into a dictagraph all the time, and he double-crossed us!” + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Frame Up, by Richard Harding Davis + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FRAME UP *** + +***** This file should be named 1806-0.txt or 1806-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/0/1806/ + +Produced by Aaron Cannon + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/1806-0.zip b/1806-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ca656e7 --- /dev/null +++ b/1806-0.zip diff --git a/1806-h.zip b/1806-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..208fcfb --- /dev/null +++ b/1806-h.zip diff --git a/1806-h/1806-h.htm b/1806-h/1806-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e57ef60 --- /dev/null +++ b/1806-h/1806-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1515 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Frame Up, by Richard Harding Davis + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Frame Up, by Richard Harding Davis + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Frame Up + +Author: Richard Harding Davis + +Release Date: October 5, 2008 [EBook #1806] +Last Updated: September 26, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FRAME UP *** + + + + +Produced by Aaron Cannon, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE FRAME UP + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + by Richard Harding Davis + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p> + When the voice over the telephone promised to name the man who killed + Hermann Banf, District Attorney Wharton was up-town lunching at + Delmonico’s. This was contrary to his custom and a concession to Hamilton + Cutler, his distinguished brother-in-law. That gentleman was interested in + a State constabulary bill and had asked State Senator Bissell to father + it. He had suggested to the senator that, in the legal points involved in + the bill, his brother-in-law would undoubtedly be charmed to advise him. + So that morning, to talk it over, Bissell had come from Albany and, as he + was forced to return the same afternoon, had asked Wharton to lunch with + him up-town near the station. + </p> + <p> + That in public life there breathed a man with soul so dead who, were he + offered a chance to serve Hamilton Cutler, would not jump at the chance + was outside the experience of the county chairman. And in so judging his + fellow men, with the exception of one man, the senator was right. The one + man was Hamilton Cutler’s brother-in-law. + </p> + <p> + In the national affairs of his party Hamilton Cutler was one of the four + leaders. In two cabinets he had held office. At a foreign court as an + ambassador his dinners, of which the diplomatic corps still spoke with + emotion, had upheld the dignity of ninety million Americans. He was rich. + The history of his family was the history of the State. When the Albany + boats drew abreast of the old Cutler mansion on the cast bank of the + Hudson the passengers pointed at it with deference. Even when the search + lights pointed at it, it was with deference. And on Fifth Avenue, as the + “Seeing New York” car passed his town house it slowed respectfully to half + speed. When, apparently for no other reason than that she was good and + beautiful, he had married the sister of a then unknown up State lawyer, + every one felt Hamilton Cutler had made his first mistake. But, like every + thing else into which he entered, for him matrimony also was a success. + The prettiest girl in Utica showed herself worthy of her distinguished + husband. She had given him children as beautiful as herself; as what + Washington calls “a cabinet lady” she had kept her name out of the + newspapers; as Madame L’Ambassatrice she had put archduchesses at their + ease; and after ten years she was an adoring wife, a devoted mother, and a + proud woman. Her pride was in believing that for every joy she knew she + was indebted entirely to her husband. To owe everything to him, to feel + that through him the blessings flowed, was her ideal of happiness. + </p> + <p> + In this ideal her brother did not share. Her delight in a sense of + obligation left him quite cold. No one better than himself knew that his + rapid-fire rise in public favor was due to his own exertions, to the fact + that he had worked very hard, had been independent, had kept his hands + clean, and had worn no man’s collar. Other people believed he owed his + advancement to his brother-in-law. He knew they believed that, and it hurt + him. When, at the annual dinner of the Amen Corner, they burlesqued him as + singing to “Ham” Cutler, “You made me what I am to-day, I hope you’re + satisfied,” he found that to laugh with the others was something of an + effort. His was a difficult position. He was a party man; he had always + worked inside the organization. The fact that whenever he ran for an + elective office the reformers indorsed him and the best elements in the + opposition parties voted for him did not shake his loyalty to his own + people. And to Hamilton Cutler, as one of his party leaders, as one of the + bosses of the “invisible government,” he was willing to defer. But while + he could give allegiance to his party leaders, and from them was willing + to receive the rewards of office, from a rich brother-in-law he was not at + all willing to accept anything. Still less was he willing that of the + credit he deserved for years of hard work for the party, of self-denial, + and of efficient public service the rich brother-in-law, should rob him. + </p> + <p> + His pride was to be known as a self-made man, as the servant only of the + voters. And now that ambition, now that he was district attorney of New + York City, to have it said that the office was the gift of his + brother-in-law was bitter. But he believed the injustice would soon end. + In a month he was coming up for re-election, and night and day was + conducting a campaign that he hoped would result in a personal victory so + complete as to banish the shadow of his brother-in-law. Were he re-elected + by the majority on which he counted, he would have the party leaders on + their knees. Hamilton Cutler would be forced to come to him. He would be + in line for promotion. He knew the leaders did not want to promote him, + that they considered him too inclined to kick over the traces; but were he + now re-elected, at the next election, either for mayor or governor, he + would be his party’s obvious and legitimate candidate. + </p> + <p> + The re-election was not to be an easy victory. Outside his own party, to + prevent his succeeding himself as district attorney, Tammany Hall was + using every weapon in her armory. The commissioner of police was a Tammany + man, and in the public prints Wharton had repeatedly declared that Banf, + his star witness against the police, had been killed by the police, and + that they had prevented the discovery of his murderer. For this the wigwam + wanted his scalp, and to get it had raked his public and private life, had + used threats and bribes, and with women had tried to trap him into a + scandal. But “Big Tim” Meehan, the lieutenant the Hall had detailed to + destroy Wharton, had reported back that for their purpose his record was + useless, that bribes and threats only flattered him, and that the traps + set for him he had smilingly side-stepped. This was the situation a month + before election day when, to oblige his brother-in-law, Wharton was + up-town at Delmonico’s lunching with Senator Bissell. + </p> + <p> + Down-town at the office, Rumson, the assistant district attorney, was on + his way to lunch when the telephone-girl halted him. Her voice was lowered + and betrayed almost human interest. + </p> + <p> + From the corner of her mouth she whispered: “This man has a note for Mr. + Wharton—says if he don’t get it quick it’ll be too late—says + it will tell him who killed ‘Heimie’ Banf!” + </p> + <p> + The young man and the girl looked at each other and smiled. Their + experience had not tended to make them credulous. Had he lived, Hermann + Banf would have been, for Wharton, the star witness against a ring of + corrupt police officials. In consequence his murder was more than the + taking off of a shady and disreputable citizen. It was a blow struck at + the high office of the district attorney, at the grand jury, and the law. + But, so far, whoever struck the blow had escaped punishment, and though + for a month, ceaselessly, by night and day “the office” and the police had + sought him, he was still at large, still “unknown.” There had been + hundreds of clews. They had been furnished by the detectives of the city + and county and of the private agencies, by amateurs, by news-papers, by + members of the underworld with a score to pay off or to gain favor. But no + clew had led anywhere. When, in hoarse whispers, the last one had been + confided to him by his detectives, Wharton had protested indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “Stop bringing me clews!” he exclaimed. “I want the man. I can’t + electrocute a clew!” + </p> + <p> + So when, after all other efforts, over the telephone a strange voice + offered to deliver the murderer, Rumson was skeptical. He motioned the + girl to switch to the desk telephone. + </p> + <p> + “Assistant District Attorney Rumson speaking,” he said. “What can I do for + you?”’ + </p> + <p> + Before the answer came, as though the speaker were choosing his words, + there was a pause. It lasted so long that Rumson exclaimed sharply: + </p> + <p> + “Hello,” he called. “Do you want to speak to me, or do you want to speak + to me?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve gotta letter for the district attorney,” said the voice. “I’m to + give it to nobody but him. It’s about Banf. He must get it quick, or it’ll + be too late.” + </p> + <p> + “Who are you?” demanded Rumson. “Where are you speaking from?” + </p> + <p> + The man at the other end of the wire ignored the questions. + </p> + <p> + “Where’ll Wharton be for the next twenty minutes?” + </p> + <p> + “If I tell you,” parried Rumson, “will you bring the letter at once?” The + voice exclaimed indignantly: + </p> + <p> + “Bring nothing! I’ll send it by district messenger. You’re wasting time + trying to reach me. It’s the LETTER you want. It tells——” the + voice broke with an oath and instantly began again: “I can’t talk over a + phone. I tell you, it’s life or death. If you lose out, it’s your own + fault. Where can I find Wharton?” + </p> + <p> + “At Delmonico’s,” answered Rumson. “He’ll be there until two o’clock.” + “Delmonico’s! That’s Forty-fort Street?” “Right,” said Rumson. “Tell the + messenger——” He heard the receiver slam upon the hook. With + the light of the hunter in his eyes, he turned to the girl. + </p> + <p> + “They can laugh,” he cried, “but I believe we’ve hooked something. I’m + going after it.” In the waiting-room he found the detectives. “Hewitt,” he + ordered, “take the subway and whip up to Delmonico’s. Talk to the + taxi-starter till a messenger-boy brings a letter for the D. A. Let the + boy deliver the note, and then trail him till he reports to the man he got + it from. Bring the man here. If it’s a district messenger and he doesn’t + report, but goes straight back to the office, find out who gave him the + note; get his description. Then meet me at Delmonico’s.” + </p> + <p> + Rumson called up that restaurant and had Wharton come to the phone. He + asked his chief to wait until a letter he believed to be of great + importance was delivered to him. He explained, but, of necessity, somewhat + sketchily. “It sounds to me,” commented his chief, “like a plot of yours + to get a lunch up-town.” + </p> + <p> + “Invitation!” cried Rumson. “I’ll be with you in ten minutes.” + </p> + <p> + After Rumson had joined Wharton and Bissell the note arrived. It was + brought to the restaurant by a messenger-boy, who said that in answer to a + call from a saloon on Sixth Avenue he had received it from a young man in + ready-to-wear clothes and a green hat. When Hewitt, the detective, asked + what the young man looked like, the boy said he looked like a young man in + ready-to-wear clothes and a green hat. But when the note was read the + identity of the man who delivered it ceased to be of importance. The paper + on which it was written was without stamped address or monogram, and + carried with it the mixed odors of the drug-store at which it had been + purchased. The handwriting was that of a woman, and what she had written + was: “If the district attorney will come at once, and alone, to Kessler’s + Cafe, on the Boston Post Road, near the city line, he will be told who + killed Hermann Banf. If he don’t come in an hour, it will be too late. If + he brings anybody with him, he won’t be told anything. Leave your car in + the road and walk up the drive. Ida Earle.” + </p> + <p> + Hewitt, who had sent away the messenger-boy and had been called in to give + expert advice, was enthusiastic. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. District Attorney,” he cried, “that’s no crank letter. This Earle + woman is wise. You got to take her as a serious proposition. She wouldn’t + make that play if she couldn’t get away with it.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is she?” asked Wharton. + </p> + <p> + To the police, the detective assured them, Ida Earle had been known for + years. When she was young she had been under the protection of a man high + in the ranks of Tammany, and, in consequence, with her different ventures + the Police had never interfered. She now was proprietress of the + road-house in the note described as Kessler’s Cafe. It was a place for + joy-riders. There was a cabaret, a hall for public dancing, and rooms for + very private suppers. + </p> + <p> + In so far as it welcomed only those who could spend money it was + exclusive, but in all other respects its reputation was of the worst. In + situation it was lonely, and from other houses separated by a quarter of a + mile of dying trees and vacant lots. + </p> + <p> + The Boston Post Road upon which it faced was the old post road, but + lately, through this back yard and dumping-ground of the city, had been + relaid. It was patrolled only and infrequently by bicycle policemen. “But + this,” continued the detective eagerly, “is where we win out. The + road-house is an old farmhouse built over, with the barns changed into + garages. They stand on the edge of a wood. It’s about as big as a city + block. If we come in through the woods from the rear, the garages will + hide us. Nobody in the house can see us, but we won’t be a hundred yards + away. You’ve only to blow a police whistle and we’ll be with you.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean I ought to go?” said Wharton. + </p> + <p> + Rumson exclaimed incredulously: “You got to go!” + </p> + <p> + “It looks to me,” objected Bissell, “like a plot to get you there alone + and rap you on the head.” “Not with that note inviting him there,” + protested Hewitt, “and signed by Earle herself.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t know she signed it?” objected the senator. + </p> + <p> + “I know her,” returned the detective. “I know she’s no fool. It’s her + place, and she wouldn’t let them pull off any rough stuff there—not + against the D. A. anyway.” + </p> + <p> + The D. A. was rereading the note. “Might this be it?” he asked. “Suppose + it’s a trick to mix me up in a scandal? You say the place is disreputable. + Suppose they’re planning to compromise me just before election. They’ve + tried it already several times.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ve still got the note,” persisted Hewitt. “It proves why you went + there. And the senator, too. He can testify. And we won’t be hundred yards + away. And,” he added grudgingly, “you have Nolan.” + </p> + <p> + Nolan was the spoiled child of ‘the office.’ He was the district + attorney’s pet. Although still young, he had scored as a detective and as + a driver of racing-cars. As Wharton’s chauffeur he now doubled the parts. + </p> + <p> + “What Nolan testified wouldn’t be any help,” said Wharton. “They would say + it was just a story he invented to save me.” + </p> + <p> + “Then square yourself this way,” urged Rumson. “Send a note now by hand to + Ham Cutler and one to your sister. Tell them you’re going to Ida Earle’s—and + why—tell them you’re afraid it’s a frame-up, and for them to keep + your notes as evidence. And enclose the one from her.” + </p> + <p> + Wharton nodded in approval, and, while he wrote, Rumson and the detective + planned how, without those inside the road-house being aware of their + presence, they might be near it. + </p> + <p> + Kessler’s Cafe lay in the Seventy-ninth Police Precinct. In taxi-cabs they + arranged to start at once and proceed down White Plains Avenue, which + parallels the Boston Road, until they were on a line with Kessler’s, but + from it hidden by the woods and the garages. A walk of a quarter of a mile + across lots and under cover of the trees would bring them to within a + hundred yards of the house. + </p> + <p> + Wharton was to give them a start of half an hour. That he might know they + were on watch, they agreed, after they dismissed the taxi-cabs, to send + one of them into the Boston Post Road past the road-house. When it was + directly in front of the cafe, the chauffeur would throw away into the + road an empty cigarette-case. + </p> + <p> + From the cigar-stand they selected a cigarette box of a startling yellow. + At half a mile it was conspicuous. + </p> + <p> + “When you see this in the road,” explained Rumson, “you’ll know we’re on + the job. And after you’re inside, if you need us, you’ve only to go to a + rear window and wave.” + </p> + <p> + “If they mean to do him up,” growled Bissell, “he won’t get to a rear + window.” + </p> + <p> + “He can always tell them we’re outside,” said Rumson——“and + they are extremely likely to believe him. Do you want a gun?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the D. A. + </p> + <p> + “Better have mine,”’ urged Hewitt. + </p> + <p> + “I have my own,” explained the D. A. + </p> + <p> + Rumson and Hewitt set off in taxi-cabs and, a half-hour later, Wharton + followed. As he sank back against the cushions of the big touring-car he + felt a pleasing thrill of excitement, and as he passed the traffic police, + and they saluted mechanically, he smiled. Had they guessed his errand + their interest in his progress would have been less perfunctory. In half + an hour he might know that the police killed Banf; in half an hour he + himself might walk into a trap they had, in turn, staged for him. As the + car ran swiftly through the clean October air, and the wind and sun + alternately chilled and warmed his blood, Wharton considered these + possibilities. + </p> + <p> + He could not believe the woman Earle would lend herself to any plot to do + him bodily harm. She was a responsible person. In her own world she was as + important a figure as was the district attorney in his. Her allies were + the man “higher up” in Tammany and the police of the upper ranks of the + uniformed force. And of the higher office of the district attorney she + possessed an intimate and respectful knowledge. It was not to be + considered that against the prosecuting attorney such a woman would wage + war. So the thought that upon his person any assault was meditated Wharton + dismissed as unintelligent. That it was upon his reputation the attack was + planned seemed much more probable. But that contingency he had foreseen + and so, he believed, forestalled. There then remained only the possibility + that the offer in the letter was genuine. It seemed quite too good to be + true. For, as he asked himself, on the very eve of an election, why should + Tammany, or a friend of Tammany, place in his possession the information + that to the Tammany candidate would bring inevitable defeat. He felt that + the way they were playing into his hands was too open, too generous. If + their object was to lead him into a trap, of all baits they might use the + promise to tell him who killed Banf was the one certain to attract him. It + made their invitation to walk into the parlor almost too obvious. But were + the offer not genuine, there was a condition attached to it that puzzled + him. It was not the condition that stipulated he should come alone. His + experience had taught him many will confess, or betray, to the district + attorney who, to a deputy, will tell nothing. The condition that puzzled + him was the one that insisted he should come at once or it would be “too + late.” + </p> + <p> + Why was haste so imperative? Why, if he delayed, would he be “too late”? + Was the man he sought about to escape from his jurisdiction, was he dying, + and was it his wish to make a death-bed confession; or was he so reluctant + to speak that delay might cause him to reconsider and remain silent? + </p> + <p> + With these questions in his mind, the minutes quickly passed, and it was + with a thrill of excitement Wharton saw that Nolan had left the Zoological + Gardens on the right and turned into the Boston Road. It had but lately + been completed and to Wharton was unfamiliar. On either side of the + unscarred roadway still lay scattered the uprooted trees and boulders that + had blocked its progress, and abandoned by the contractors were empty + tar-barrels, cement-sacks, tool-sheds, and forges. Nor was the surrounding + landscape less raw and unlovely. Toward the Sound stretched vacant lots + covered with ash heaps; to the left a few old and broken houses set among + the glass-covered cold frames of truck-farms. + </p> + <p> + The district attorney felt a sudden twinge of loneliness. And when an + automobile sign told him he was “10 miles from Columbus Circle,” he felt + that from the New York he knew he was much farther. Two miles up the road + his car overhauled a bicycle policeman, and Wharton halted him. + </p> + <p> + “Is there a road-house called Kessler’s beyond here?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “On the left, farther up,” the officer told him, and added: “You can’t + miss it Mr. Wharton; there’s no other house near it.” + </p> + <p> + “You know me,” said the D.A. “Then you’ll understand what I want you to + do. I’ve agreed to go to that house alone. If they see you pass they may + think I’m not playing fair. So stop here.” + </p> + <p> + The man nodded and dismounted. + </p> + <p> + “But,” added the district attorney, as the car started forward again, “If + you hear shots, I don’t care how fast you come.” + </p> + <p> + The officer grinned. + </p> + <p> + “Better let me trail along now,” he called; “that’s a tough joint.” + </p> + <p> + But Wharton motioned him back; and when again he turned to look the man + still stood where they had parted. + </p> + <p> + Two minutes later an empty taxi-cab came swiftly toward him and, as it + passed, the driver lifted his hand from the wheel, and with his thumb + motioned behind him. + </p> + <p> + “That’s one of the men,” said Nolan, “that started with Mr. Rumson and + Hewitt from Delmonico’s.” + </p> + <p> + Wharton nodded; and, now assured that in their plan there had been no + hitch, smiled with satisfaction. A moment later, when ahead of them on the + asphalt road Nolan pointed out a spot of yellow, he recognized the signal + and knew that within call were friends. + </p> + <p> + The yellow cigarette-box lay directly in front of a long wooden building + of two stories. It was linked to the road by a curving driveway marked on + either side by whitewashed stones. + </p> + <p> + On verandas enclosed In glass Wharton saw white-covered tables under red + candle-shade and, protruding from one end of the house and hung with + electric lights in paper lanterns, a pavilion for dancing. In the rear of + the house stood sheds and a thick tangle of trees on which the autumn + leaves showed yellow painted fingers and arrows pointing, and an electric + sign, proclaimed to all who passed that this was Kessler’s. In spite of + its reputation, the house wore the aspect of the commonplace. In evidence + nothing flaunted, nothing threatened From a dozen other inns along the + Pelham Parkway and the Boston Post Road it was no way to be distinguished. + </p> + <p> + As directed in the note, Wharton left the car in the road. “For five + minutes stay where you are,” he ordered Nolan; “then go to the bar and get + a drink. Don’t talk to any one or they’ll think you’re trying to get + information. Work around to the back of the house. Stand where I can see + you from the window. I may want you to carry a message to Mr. Rumson.” + </p> + <p> + On foot Wharton walked up the curved drive-way, and if from the house his + approach was spied upon, there was no evidence. In the second story the + blinds were drawn and on the first floor the verandas were empty. Nor, not + even after he had mounted to the veranda and stepped inside the house, was + there any sign that his visit was expected. He stood in a hall, and in + front of him rose a broad flight of stairs that he guessed led to the + private supper-rooms. On his left was the restaurant. + </p> + <p> + Swept and garnished after the revels of the night previous, and as though + resting in preparation for those to come, it an air of peaceful + inactivity. At a table a maitre d’ho’tel was composing the menu for the + evening, against the walls three colored waiters lounged sleepily, and on + a platform at a piano a pale youth with drugged eyes was with one hand + picking an accompaniment. As Wharton paused uncertainly the young man, + disdaining his audience, in a shrill, nasal tenor raised his voice and + sang: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “And from the time the rooster calls + I’ll wear my overalls, + And you, a simple gingham gown. + So, if you’re strong for a shower of rice, + We two could make a paradise Of any One-Horse Town.” + </pre> + <p> + At sight of Wharton the head waiter reluctantly detached himself from his + menu and rose. But before he could greet the visitor, Wharton heard his + name spoken and, looking up, saw a woman descending the stairs. It was + apparent that when young she had been beautiful, and, in spite of an + expression in her eyes of hardness and distrust, which seemed habitual, + she was still handsome. She was without a hat and wearing a house dress of + decorous shades and in the extreme of fashion. Her black hair, built up in + artificial waves, was heavy with brilliantine; her hands, covered deep + with rings, and of an unnatural white, showed the most fastidious care. + But her complexion was her own; and her skin, free from paint and powder, + glowed with that healthy pink that is supposed to be the perquisite only + of the simple life and a conscience undisturbed. + </p> + <p> + “I am Mrs. Earle,” said the woman. “I wrote you that note. Will you please + come this way?” + </p> + <p> + That she did not suppose he might not come that way was obvious, for, as + she spoke, she turned her back on him and mounted the stairs. After an + instant of hesitation, Wharton followed. + </p> + <p> + As well as his mind, his body was now acutely alive and vigilant. Both + physically and mentally he moved on tiptoe. For whatever surprise, for + whatever ambush might lie in wait, he was prepared. At the top of the + stairs he found a wide hall along which on both sides were many doors. The + one directly facing the stairs stood open. At one side of this the woman + halted and with a gesture of the jewelled fingers invited him to enter. + </p> + <p> + “My sitting-room,” she said. As Wharton remained motionless she + substituted: “My office.” + </p> + <p> + Peering into the room, Wharton found it suited to both titles. He saw + comfortable chairs, vases filled with autumn leaves, in silver frames + photographs, and between two open windows a business-like roller-top desk + on which was a hand telephone. In plain sight through the windows he + beheld the garage and behind it the tops of trees. To summon Rumson, to + keep in touch with Nolan, he need only step to one of these windows and + beckon. The strategic position of the room appealed, and with a bow of the + head he passed in front of his hostess and entered it. He continued to + take note of his surroundings. + </p> + <p> + He now saw that from the office in which he stood doors led to rooms + adjoining. These doors were shut, and he determined swiftly that before + the interview began he first must know what lay behind them. Mrs. Earle + had followed and, as she entered, closed the door. + </p> + <p> + “No!” said Wharton. + </p> + <p> + It was the first time he had spoken. For an instant the woman hesitated, + regarding him thoughtfully, and then without resentment pulled the door + open. She came toward him swiftly, and he was conscious of the rustle of + silk and the stirring of perfumes. At the open door she cast a frown of + disapproval and then, with her face close to his, spoke hurriedly in a + whisper. + </p> + <p> + “A man brought a girl here to lunch,” she said; “they’ve been here before. + The girl claims the man told her he was going to marry her. Last night she + found out he has a wife already, and she came here to-day meaning to make + trouble. She brought a gun. They were in the room at the far end of the + hall. George, the water, heard the two shots and ran down here to get me. + No one else heard. These rooms are fixed to keep out noise, and the piano + was going. We broke in and found them on the floor. The man was shot + through the shoulder, the girl through the body. His story is that after + she fired, in trying to get the gun from her, she shot herself-by + accident. That’s right, I guess. But the girl says they came here to die + together—what the newspaper call a ‘suicide pact’—because they + couldn’t marry, and that he first shot her, intending to kill her and then + himself. That’s silly. She framed it to get him. She missed him with the + gun, so now she’s trying to get him with this murder charge. I know her. + If she’d been sober she wouldn’t have shot him; she’d have blackmailed + him. She’s that sort. I know her, and——” + </p> + <p> + With an exclamation the district attorney broke in upon her. “And the + man,” he demanded eagerly; “was it HE killed Banf?” + </p> + <p> + In amazement the woman stared. “Certainly NOT!” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Then what HAS this to do with Banf?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing!” Her tone was annoyed, reproachful. “That was only to bring you + here.” + </p> + <p> + His disappointment was so keen that it threatened to exhibit itself in + anger. Recognizing this, before he spoke Wharton forced himself to pause. + Then he repeated her words quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Bring me here?” he asked. “Why?” + </p> + <p> + The woman exclaimed impatiently: “So you could beat the police to it,” she + whispered. “So you could HUSH IT UP!” + </p> + <p> + The surprised laugh of the man was quite real. It bore no resentment or + pose. He was genuinely amused. Then the dignity of his office, tricked and + insulted, demanded to be heard. He stared at her coldly; his indignation + was apparent. + </p> + <p> + “You have done extremely ill,” he told her. “You know perfectly well you + had no right to bring me up here; to drag me into a row in your + road-house. ‘Hush it up!’” he exclaimed hotly. This time his laugh was + contemptuous and threatening. “I’ll show you how I’ll hush it up!” He + moved quickly to the open window. + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” commanded the woman. “You can’t do that!” She ran to the door. + </p> + <p> + Again he was conscious of the rustle of silk, of the stirring of perfumes. + </p> + <p> + He heard the key turn in the lock. It had Come. It was a frame-up. There + would be a scandal. And to save himself from it they would force him to + “hush up” this other one. But, as to the outcome, in no way was he + concerned. Through the window, standing directly below it, he had seen + Nolan. In the sunlit yard the chauffeur, his cap on the back of his head, + his cigarette drooping from his lips, was tossing the remnants of a + sandwich to a circle of excited hens. He presented a picture of bored + indolence, of innocent preoccupation. It was almost too well done. + </p> + <p> + Assured of a witness for the defense, he greeted the woman with a smile. + “Why can’t I do it?” he taunted. + </p> + <p> + She ran close to him and laid her hands on his arm. Her eyes were fixed + steadily on his. “Because,” she whispered, “the man who shot that girl-is + your brother-in-law, Ham Cutler!” + </p> + <p> + For what seemed a long time Wharton stood looking down into the eyes of + the woman, and the eyes never faltered. Later he recalled that in the + sudden silence many noises disturbed the lazy hush of the Indian-summer + afternoon: the rush of a motor-car on the Boston Road, the tinkle of the + piano and the voice of the youth with the drugged eyes singing, “And + you’ll wear a simple gingham gown,” from the yard below the cluck-cluck of + the chickens and the cooing of pigeons. + </p> + <p> + His first thought was of his sister and of her children, and of what this + bomb, hurled from the clouds, would mean to her. He thought of Cutler, at + the height of his power and usefulness, by this one disreputable act + dragged into the mire, of what disaster it might bring to the party, to + himself. + </p> + <p> + If, as the woman invited, he helped to “hush it up,” and Tammany learned + the truth, it would make short work of him. It would say, for the murderer + of Banf he had one law and for the rich brother-in-law, who had tried to + kill the girl he deceived, another. But before he gave voice to his + thoughts he recognized them as springing only from panic. They were of a + part with the acts of men driven by sudden fear, and of which acts in + their sane moments they would be incapable. + </p> + <p> + The shock of the woman’s words had unsettled his traditions. Not only was + he condemning a man unheard, but a man who, though he might dislike him, + he had for years, for his private virtues, trusted and admired. The panic + passed and with a confident smile he shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t believe you,” he said quietly. + </p> + <p> + The manner of the woman was equally calm, equally assured. + </p> + <p> + “Will you see her?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I’d rather see my brother-in-law,” he answered + </p> + <p> + The woman handed him a card. + </p> + <p> + “Doctor Muir took him to his private hospital,” she said. “I loaned them + my car because it’s a limousine. The address is on that card. But,” she + added, “both your brother and Sammy—that’s Sam Muir, the doctor—asked + you wouldn’t use the telephone; they’re afraid of a leak.” + </p> + <p> + Apparently Wharton did not hear her. As though it were “Exhibit A,” + presented in evidence by the defense, he was studying the card she had + given him. He stuck it in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll go to him at once,” he said. + </p> + <p> + To restrain or dissuade him, the woman made no sudden move. In level tones + she said: + </p> + <p> + “Your brother-in-law asked especially that you wouldn’t do that until + you’d fixed it with the girl. Your face is too well known. He’s afraid + some one might find out where he is—and for a day or two no one must + know that.” + </p> + <p> + “This doctor knows it,” retorted Wharton. + </p> + <p> + The suggestion seemed to strike Mrs. Earle as humorous. For the first time + she laughed. “Sammy!” she exclaimed. “He’s a lobbygow of mine. He’s worked + for me for years. I could send him up the river if I liked. He knows it.” + Her tone was convincing. “They both asked,” she continued evenly, “you + should keep off until the girl is out of the country, and fixed.” Wharton + frowned thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + And, observing this, the eyes of the woman showed that, so far, toward the + unfortunate incident the attitude of the district attorney was to her most + gratifying. Wharton ceased frowning. “How fixed?” he asked. Mrs. Earle + shrugged her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Cutler’s idea is money,” she said; “but, believe me, he’s wrong. This + girl is a vampire. She’ll only come back to you for more. She’ll keep on + threatening to tell the wife, to tell the papers. The way to fix her is to + throw a scare into her. And there’s only one man can do that; there’s only + one man that can hush this thing up—that’s you.” + </p> + <p> + “When can I see her?” asked Wharton. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said the woman. “I’ll bring her.” Wharton could not suppress an + involuntary “Here?” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + For the shade of a second Mrs. Earle exhibited the slightest evidence of + embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + “My room’s in a mess,” she explained; “and she’s not hurt so much as Sammy + said. He told her she was in bad just to keep her quiet until you got + here.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Earle opened one of the doors leading from the room. “I won’t be a + minute,” she said. Quietly she closed the door behind her. + </p> + <p> + Upon her disappearance the manner of the district attorney underwent an + abrupt change. He ran softly to the door opposite the one through which + Mrs. Earle had passed, and pulled it open. But, if beyond it he expected + to find an audience of eavesdroppers, he was disappointed. The room was + empty, and bore no evidence of recent occupation.. He closed the door, + and, from the roller-top desk, snatching a piece of paper, scribbled upon + it hastily. Wrapping the paper around a coin, and holding it exposed to + view, he showed himself at the window. Below him, to an increasing circle + of hens and pigeons, Nolan was still scattering crumbs. Without + withdrawing his gaze from them, the chauffeur nodded. Wharton opened his + hand and the note fell into the yard. Behind him he heard the murmur of + voices, the sobs of a woman in pain, and the rattle of a door-knob. As + from the window he turned quickly, he saw that toward the spot where his + note had fallen Nolan was tossing the last remnants of his sandwich. + </p> + <p> + The girl who entered with Mrs. Earle, leaning on her and supported by her, + was tall and fair. Around her shoulders her blond hair hung in disorder, + and around her waist, under the kimono Mrs. Earle had thrown about her, + were wrapped many layers of bandages. The girl moved unsteadily and sank + into a chair. + </p> + <p> + In a hostile tone Mrs. Earle addressed her. + </p> + <p> + “Rose,” she said, “this is the district attorney.” To him she added: “She + calls herself Rose Gerard.” + </p> + <p> + One hand the girl held close against her side, with the other she brushed + back the hair from her forehead. From half-closed eyes she stared at + Wharton defiantly. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she challenged, “what about it?” + </p> + <p> + Wharton seated himself in front of the roller-top desk. + </p> + <p> + “Are you strong enough to tell me?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + His tone was kind, and this the girl seemed to resent. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you worry,” she sneered, “I’m strong enough. Strong enough to tell + all I know—to you, and to the papers, and to a jury—until I + get justice.” She clinched her free hand and feebly shook it at him. + “THAT’S what I’m going to get,” she cried, her voice breaking + hysterically, “justice.” + </p> + <p> + From behind the arm-chair in which the girl half-reclined Mrs. Earle + caught the eye of the district attorney and shrugged her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Just what DID happen?” asked Wharton. + </p> + <p> + Apparently with an effort the girl pulled herself together. + </p> + <p> + “I first met your brother-in-law——” she began. + </p> + <p> + Wharton interrupted quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” he said. “You are not talking to me as anybody’s brother-in-law, + but as the district attorney.” + </p> + <p> + The girl laughed vindictively. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t wonder you’re ashamed of him!” she jeered. + </p> + <p> + Again she began: “I first met Ham Cutler last May. He wanted to marry me + then. He told me he was not a married man.” + </p> + <p> + As her story unfolded, Wharton did not again interrupt; and speaking + quickly, in abrupt, broken phrases, the girl brought her narrative to the + moment when, as she claimed, Cutler had attempted to kill her. At this + point a knock at the locked door caused both the girl and her audience to + start. Wharton looked at Mrs. Earle inquiringly, but she shook her head, + and with a look at him also of inquiry, and of suspicion as well, opened + the door. + </p> + <p> + With apologies her head waiter presented a letter. + </p> + <p> + “For Mr. Wharton,” he explained, “from his chauffeur.” + </p> + <p> + Wharton’s annoyance at the interruption was most apparent. “What the devil——” + he began. + </p> + <p> + He read the note rapidly, and with a frown of irritation raised his eyes + to Mrs. Earle. + </p> + <p> + “He wants to go to New Rochelle for an inner tube,” he said. “How long + would it take him to get there and back?” + </p> + <p> + The hard and distrustful expression upon the face of Mrs. Earle, which was + habitual, was now most strongly in evidence. Her eyes searched those of + Wharton. + </p> + <p> + “Twenty minutes, she said. + </p> + <p> + “He can’t go,” snapped Wharton. + </p> + <p> + “Tell him,” he directed the waiter, “to stay where he is. Tell him I may + want to go back to the office any minute.” He turned eagerly to the girl. + “I’m sorry,” he said. With impatience he crumpled the note into a ball and + glanced about him. At his feet was a waste-paper basket. Fixed upon him he + saw, while pretending not to see, the eyes of Mrs. Earle burning with + suspicion. If he destroyed the note, he knew suspicion would become + certainty. Without an instant of hesitation, carelessly he tossed it + intact into the waste-paper basket. Toward Rose Gerard he swung the + revolving chair. + </p> + <p> + “Go on, Please,” he commanded. + </p> + <p> + The girl had now reached the climax of her story, but the eyes of Mrs. + Earle betrayed the fact that her thoughts were elsewhere. With an intense + and hungry longing, they were concentrated upon her own waste-paper + basket. + </p> + <p> + The voice of the girl in anger and defiance recalled Mrs. Earle to the + business of the moment. + </p> + <p> + “He tried to kill me,” shouted Miss Rose. “And his shooting himself in the + shoulder was a bluff. THAT’S my story; that’s the story I’m going to tell + the judge”—her voice soared shrilly—“that’s the story that’s + going to send your brother-in-law to Sing Sing!” + </p> + <p> + For the first time Mrs. Earle contributed to the general conversation. + </p> + <p> + “You talk like a fish,” she said. + </p> + <p> + The girl turned upon her savagely. + </p> + <p> + “If he don’t like the way I talk,” she cried, “he can come across!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Earle exclaimed in horror. Virtuously her hands were raised in + protest. + </p> + <p> + “Like hell he will!” she said. “You can’t pull that under my roof!” + Wharton looked disturbed. + </p> + <p> + “Come across?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Come across?” mimicked the girl. “Send me abroad and keep me there. And + I’ll swear it was an accident. Twenty-five thousand, that’s all I want. + Cutler told me he was going to make you governor. He can’t make you + governor if he’s in Sing Sing, can he? Ain’t it worth twenty-five thousand + to you to be governor? Come on,” she jeered, “kick in!” + </p> + <p> + With a grave but untroubled voice Wharton addressed Mrs. Earle. + </p> + <p> + “May I use your telephone?” he asked. He did not wait for her consent, but + from the desk lifted the hand telephone. + </p> + <p> + “Spring, three one hundred!” he said. He sat with his legs comfortably + crossed, the stand of the instrument balanced on his knee, his eyes gazing + meditatively at the yellow tree-tops. + </p> + <p> + If with apprehension both women started, if the girl thrust herself + forward, and by the hand of Mrs. Earle was dragged back, he did not appear + to know it. + </p> + <p> + “Police headquarters?” they heard him ask. “I want to speak to the + commissioner. This is the district attorney.” + </p> + <p> + In the pause that followed, as though to torment her, the pain, in her + side apparently turned, for the girl screamed sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Be still!” commanded the older woman. Breathless, across the top of the + arm-chair, she was leaning forward. Upon the man at the telephone her eyes + were fixed in fascination. + </p> + <p> + “Commissioner,” said the district attorney, “this is Wharton speaking. A + woman has made a charge of attempted murder to me against my + brother-in-law, Hamilton Cutler. On account of our relationship, I want + you to make the arrest. If there were any slip, and he got away, it might + be said I arranged it. You will find him at the Winona apartments on the + Southern Boulevard, in the private hospital of a Doctor Samuel Muir. + Arrest them both. The girl who makes the charge is at Kessler’s Cafe, on + the Boston Post Road, just inside the city line. Arrest her too. She tried + to blackmail me. I’ll appear against her.” + </p> + <p> + Wharton rose and addressed himself to Mrs. Earle. + </p> + <p> + “I’m, sorry,” he said, “but I had to do it. You might have known I could + not hush it up. I am the only man who can’t hush it up. The people of New + York elected me to enforce the laws.” Wharton’s voice was raised to a loud + pitch. It seemed unnecessarily loud. It was almost as though he were + addressing another and more distant audience. “And,” he continued, his + voice still soaring, “even if my own family suffer, even if I suffer, even + if I lose political promotion, those laws I will enforce!” In the more + conventional tone of every-day politeness, he added: “May I speak to you + outside, Mrs. Earle?” + </p> + <p> + But, as in silence that lady descended the stairs, the district attorney + seemed to have forgotten what it was he wished to say. + </p> + <p> + It was not until he had seen his chauffeur arouse himself from apparently + deep slumber and crank the car that he addressed her. + </p> + <p> + “That girl,” he said, “had better go back to bed. My men are all around + this house and, until the police come, will detain her.” + </p> + <p> + He shook the jewelled fingers of Mrs. Earle warmly. “I thank you,” he + said; “I know you meant well. I know you wanted to help me, but”—he + shrugged his shoulders—“my duty!” + </p> + <p> + As he walked down the driveway to his car his shoulders continued to move. + </p> + <p> + But Mrs. Earle did not wait to observe this phenomenon. Rid of his + presence, she leaped, rather than ran, up the stairs and threw open the + door of her office. + </p> + <p> + As she entered, two men followed her. One was a young man who held in his + hand an open note-book, the other was Tim Meehan, of Tammany. The latter + greeted her with a shout. + </p> + <p> + “We heard everything he said,” he cried. His voice rose in torment. “An’ + we can’t use a word of it! He acted just like we’d oughta knowed he’d act. + He’s HONEST! He’s so damned honest he ain’t human; he’s a—gilded + saint!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Earle did not heed him. On her knees she was tossing to the floor the + contents of the waste-paper basket. From them she snatched a piece of + crumpled paper. + </p> + <p> + “Shut up!” she shouted. “Listen! His chauffeur brought him this.” In a + voice that quivered with indignation, that sobbed with anger, she read + aloud: + </p> + <p> + “‘As directed by your note from the window, I went to the booth and called + up Mrs. Cutler’s house and got herself on the phone. Your brother-in-law + lunched at home to-day with her and the children and they are now going to + the Hippodrome. + </p> + <p> + “Stop, look, and listen! Back of the bar I see two men in a room, but they + did not see me. One is Tim Meehan, the other is a stenographer. He is + taking notes. Each of them has on the ear-muffs of a dictagraph. Looks + like you’d better watch your step and not say nothing you don’t want + Tammany to print.’” The voice of Mrs. Earle rose in a shrill shriek. + </p> + <p> + “Him—a gilded saint?” she screamed; “you big stiff! He knew he was + talking into a dictagraph all the time, and he double-crossed us!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Frame Up, by Richard Harding Davis + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FRAME UP *** + +***** This file should be named 1806-h.htm or 1806-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/0/1806/ + +Produced by Aaron Cannon, and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Frame Up + +Author: Richard Harding Davis + +Posting Date: October 5, 2008 [EBook #1806] +Release Date: May, 1999 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FRAME UP *** + + + + +Produced by Aaron Cannon + + + + + +THE FRAME UP + +by Richard Harding Davis + + +When the voice over the telephone promised to name the man who killed +Hermann Banf, District Attorney Wharton was up-town lunching at +Delmonico's. This was contrary to his custom and a concession to +Hamilton Cutler, his distinguished brother-in-law. That gentleman was +interested in a State constabulary bill and had asked State Senator +Bissell to father it. He had suggested to the senator that, in the legal +points involved in the bill, his brother-in-law would undoubtedly be +charmed to advise him. So that morning, to talk it over, Bissell had +come from Albany and, as he was forced to return the same afternoon, had +asked Wharton to lunch with him up-town near the station. + +That in public life there breathed a man with soul so dead who, were he +offered a chance to serve Hamilton Cutler, would not jump at the chance +was outside the experience of the county chairman. And in so judging his +fellow men, with the exception of one man, the senator was right. The +one man was Hamilton Cutler's brother-in-law. + +In the national affairs of his party Hamilton Cutler was one of the four +leaders. In two cabinets he had held office. At a foreign court as an +ambassador his dinners, of which the diplomatic corps still spoke with +emotion, had upheld the dignity of ninety million Americans. He was +rich. The history of his family was the history of the State. When the +Albany boats drew abreast of the old Cutler mansion on the cast bank of +the Hudson the passengers pointed at it with deference. Even when the +search lights pointed at it, it was with deference. And on Fifth +Avenue, as the "Seeing New York" car passed his town house it slowed +respectfully to half speed. When, apparently for no other reason than +that she was good and beautiful, he had married the sister of a then +unknown up State lawyer, every one felt Hamilton Cutler had made his +first mistake. But, like every thing else into which he entered, for him +matrimony also was a success. The prettiest girl in Utica showed herself +worthy of her distinguished husband. She had given him children as +beautiful as herself; as what Washington calls "a cabinet lady" she had +kept her name out of the newspapers; as Madame L'Ambassatrice she had +put archduchesses at their ease; and after ten years she was an adoring +wife, a devoted mother, and a proud woman. Her pride was in believing +that for every joy she knew she was indebted entirely to her husband. +To owe everything to him, to feel that through him the blessings flowed, +was her ideal of happiness. + +In this ideal her brother did not share. Her delight in a sense of +obligation left him quite cold. No one better than himself knew that +his rapid-fire rise in public favor was due to his own exertions, to the +fact that he had worked very hard, had been independent, had kept his +hands clean, and had worn no man's collar. Other people believed he owed +his advancement to his brother-in-law. He knew they believed that, +and it hurt him. When, at the annual dinner of the Amen Corner, they +burlesqued him as singing to "Ham" Cutler, "You made me what I am +to-day, I hope you're satisfied," he found that to laugh with the others +was something of an effort. His was a difficult position. He was a +party man; he had always worked inside the organization. The fact that +whenever he ran for an elective office the reformers indorsed him and +the best elements in the opposition parties voted for him did not shake +his loyalty to his own people. And to Hamilton Cutler, as one of his +party leaders, as one of the bosses of the "invisible government," he +was willing to defer. But while he could give allegiance to his party +leaders, and from them was willing to receive the rewards of office, +from a rich brother-in-law he was not at all willing to accept anything. +Still less was he willing that of the credit he deserved for years of +hard work for the party, of self-denial, and of efficient public service +the rich brother-in-law, should rob him. + +His pride was to be known as a self-made man, as the servant only of the +voters. And now that ambition, now that he was district attorney of +New York City, to have it said that the office was the gift of his +brother-in-law was bitter. But he believed the injustice would soon +end. In a month he was coming up for re-election, and night and day was +conducting a campaign that he hoped would result in a personal victory +so complete as to banish the shadow of his brother-in-law. Were he +re-elected by the majority on which he counted, he would have the party +leaders on their knees. Hamilton Cutler would be forced to come to him. +He would be in line for promotion. He knew the leaders did not want +to promote him, that they considered him too inclined to kick over the +traces; but were he now re-elected, at the next election, either for +mayor or governor, he would be his party's obvious and legitimate +candidate. + +The re-election was not to be an easy victory. Outside his own party, +to prevent his succeeding himself as district attorney, Tammany Hall +was using every weapon in her armory. The commissioner of police was a +Tammany man, and in the public prints Wharton had repeatedly declared +that Banf, his star witness against the police, had been killed by the +police, and that they had prevented the discovery of his murderer. For +this the wigwam wanted his scalp, and to get it had raked his public and +private life, had used threats and bribes, and with women had tried to +trap him into a scandal. But "Big Tim" Meehan, the lieutenant the +Hall had detailed to destroy Wharton, had reported back that for their +purpose his record was useless, that bribes and threats only flattered +him, and that the traps set for him he had smilingly side-stepped. +This was the situation a month before election day when, to oblige his +brother-in-law, Wharton was up-town at Delmonico's lunching with Senator +Bissell. + +Down-town at the office, Rumson, the assistant district attorney, was +on his way to lunch when the telephone-girl halted him. Her voice was +lowered and betrayed almost human interest. + +From the corner of her mouth she whispered: "This man has a note for Mr. +Wharton--says if he don't get it quick it'll be too late--says it will +tell him who killed 'Heimie' Banf!" + +The young man and the girl looked at each other and smiled. Their +experience had not tended to make them credulous. Had he lived, Hermann +Banf would have been, for Wharton, the star witness against a ring of +corrupt police officials. In consequence his murder was more than the +taking off of a shady and disreputable citizen. It was a blow struck +at the high office of the district attorney, at the grand jury, and the +law. But, so far, whoever struck the blow had escaped punishment, and +though for a month, ceaselessly, by night and day "the office" and the +police had sought him, he was still at large, still "unknown." There had +been hundreds of clews. They had been furnished by the detectives of +the city and county and of the private agencies, by amateurs, by +news-papers, by members of the underworld with a score to pay off or to +gain favor. But no clew had led anywhere. When, in hoarse whispers, +the last one had been confided to him by his detectives, Wharton had +protested indignantly. + +"Stop bringing me clews!" he exclaimed. "I want the man. I can't +electrocute a clew!" + +So when, after all other efforts, over the telephone a strange voice +offered to deliver the murderer, Rumson was skeptical. He motioned the +girl to switch to the desk telephone. + +"Assistant District Attorney Rumson speaking," he said. "What can I do +for you?"' + +Before the answer came, as though the speaker were choosing his words, +there was a pause. It lasted so long that Rumson exclaimed sharply: + +"Hello," he called. "Do you want to speak to me, or do you want to speak +to me?" + +"I've gotta letter for the district attorney," said the voice. "I'm to +give it to nobody but him. It's about Banf. He must get it quick, or +it'll be too late." + +"Who are you?" demanded Rumson. "Where are you speaking from?" + +The man at the other end of the wire ignored the questions. + +"Where'll Wharton be for the next twenty minutes?" + +"If I tell you," parried Rumson, "will you bring the letter at once?" +The voice exclaimed indignantly: + +"Bring nothing! I'll send it by district messenger. You're wasting time +trying to reach me. It's the LETTER you want. It tells----" the voice +broke with an oath and instantly began again: "I can't talk over a +phone. I tell you, it's life or death. If you lose out, it's your own +fault. Where can I find Wharton?" + +"At Delmonico's," answered Rumson. "He'll be there until two o'clock." +"Delmonico's! That's Forty-fort Street?" "Right," said Rumson. "Tell the +messenger----" He heard the receiver slam upon the hook. With the light +of the hunter in his eyes, he turned to the girl. + +"They can laugh," he cried, "but I believe we've hooked something. I'm +going after it." In the waiting-room he found the detectives. "Hewitt," +he ordered, "take the subway and whip up to Delmonico's. Talk to the +taxi-starter till a messenger-boy brings a letter for the D. A. Let the +boy deliver the note, and then trail him till he reports to the man he +got it from. Bring the man here. If it's a district messenger and he +doesn't report, but goes straight back to the office, find out who gave +him the note; get his description. Then meet me at Delmonico's." + +Rumson called up that restaurant and had Wharton come to the phone. +He asked his chief to wait until a letter he believed to be of great +importance was delivered to him. He explained, but, of necessity, +somewhat sketchily. "It sounds to me," commented his chief, "like a plot +of yours to get a lunch up-town." + +"Invitation!" cried Rumson. "I'll be with you in ten minutes." + +After Rumson had joined Wharton and Bissell the note arrived. It was +brought to the restaurant by a messenger-boy, who said that in answer to +a call from a saloon on Sixth Avenue he had received it from a young man +in ready-to-wear clothes and a green hat. When Hewitt, the detective, +asked what the young man looked like, the boy said he looked like a +young man in ready-to-wear clothes and a green hat. But when the note +was read the identity of the man who delivered it ceased to be of +importance. The paper on which it was written was without stamped +address or monogram, and carried with it the mixed odors of the +drug-store at which it had been purchased. The handwriting was that of a +woman, and what she had written was: "If the district attorney will come +at once, and alone, to Kessler's Cafe, on the Boston Post Road, near the +city line, he will be told who killed Hermann Banf. If he don't come in +an hour, it will be too late. If he brings anybody with him, he won't +be told anything. Leave your car in the road and walk up the drive. Ida +Earle." + +Hewitt, who had sent away the messenger-boy and had been called in to +give expert advice, was enthusiastic. + +"Mr. District Attorney," he cried, "that's no crank letter. This +Earle woman is wise. You got to take her as a serious proposition. She +wouldn't make that play if she couldn't get away with it." + +"Who is she?" asked Wharton. + +To the police, the detective assured them, Ida Earle had been known for +years. When she was young she had been under the protection of a man +high in the ranks of Tammany, and, in consequence, with her different +ventures the Police had never interfered. She now was proprietress of +the road-house in the note described as Kessler's Cafe. It was a place +for joy-riders. There was a cabaret, a hall for public dancing, and +rooms for very private suppers. + +In so far as it welcomed only those who could spend money it was +exclusive, but in all other respects its reputation was of the worst. In +situation it was lonely, and from other houses separated by a quarter of +a mile of dying trees and vacant lots. + +The Boston Post Road upon which it faced was the old post road, but +lately, through this back yard and dumping-ground of the city, had been +relaid. It was patrolled only and infrequently by bicycle policemen. +"But this," continued the detective eagerly, "is where we win out. The +road-house is an old farmhouse built over, with the barns changed into +garages. They stand on the edge of a wood. It's about as big as a city +block. If we come in through the woods from the rear, the garages will +hide us. Nobody in the house can see us, but we won't be a hundred yards +away. You've only to blow a police whistle and we'll be with you." + +"You mean I ought to go?" said Wharton. + +Rumson exclaimed incredulously: "You got to go!" + +"It looks to me," objected Bissell, "like a plot to get you there alone +and rap you on the head." "Not with that note inviting him there," +protested Hewitt, "and signed by Earle herself." + +"You don't know she signed it?" objected the senator. + +"I know her," returned the detective. "I know she's no fool. It's her +place, and she wouldn't let them pull off any rough stuff there--not +against the D. A. anyway." + +The D. A. was rereading the note. "Might this be it?" he asked. +"Suppose it's a trick to mix me up in a scandal? You say the place is +disreputable. Suppose they're planning to compromise me just before +election. They've tried it already several times." + +"You've still got the note," persisted Hewitt. "It proves why you went +there. And the senator, too. He can testify. And we won't be hundred +yards away. And," he added grudgingly, "you have Nolan." + +Nolan was the spoiled child of 'the office.' He was the district +attorney's pet. Although still young, he had scored as a detective and +as a driver of racing-cars. As Wharton's chauffeur he now doubled the +parts. + +"What Nolan testified wouldn't be any help," said Wharton. "They would +say it was just a story he invented to save me." + +"Then square yourself this way," urged Rumson. "Send a note now by hand +to Ham Cutler and one to your sister. Tell them you're going to Ida +Earle's--and why--tell them you're afraid it's a frame-up, and for them +to keep your notes as evidence. And enclose the one from her." + +Wharton nodded in approval, and, while he wrote, Rumson and the +detective planned how, without those inside the road-house being aware +of their presence, they might be near it. + +Kessler's Cafe lay in the Seventy-ninth Police Precinct. In taxi-cabs +they arranged to start at once and proceed down White Plains Avenue, +which parallels the Boston Road, until they were on a line with +Kessler's, but from it hidden by the woods and the garages. A walk of a +quarter of a mile across lots and under cover of the trees would bring +them to within a hundred yards of the house. + +Wharton was to give them a start of half an hour. That he might know +they were on watch, they agreed, after they dismissed the taxi-cabs, to +send one of them into the Boston Post Road past the road-house. When it +was directly in front of the cafe, the chauffeur would throw away into +the road an empty cigarette-case. + +From the cigar-stand they selected a cigarette box of a startling +yellow. At half a mile it was conspicuous. + +"When you see this in the road," explained Rumson, "you'll know we're on +the job. And after you're inside, if you need us, you've only to go to a +rear window and wave." + +"If they mean to do him up," growled Bissell, "he won't get to a rear +window." + +"He can always tell them we're outside," said Rumson----"and they are +extremely likely to believe him. Do you want a gun?" + +"No," said the D. A. + +"Better have mine,"' urged Hewitt. + +"I have my own," explained the D. A. + + Rumson and Hewitt set off in taxi-cabs and, a half-hour later, +Wharton followed. As he sank back against the cushions of the big +touring-car he felt a pleasing thrill of excitement, and as he passed +the traffic police, and they saluted mechanically, he smiled. Had they +guessed his errand their interest in his progress would have been less +perfunctory. In half an hour he might know that the police killed Banf; +in half an hour he himself might walk into a trap they had, in turn, +staged for him. As the car ran swiftly through the clean October air, +and the wind and sun alternately chilled and warmed his blood, Wharton +considered these possibilities. + +He could not believe the woman Earle would lend herself to any plot to +do him bodily harm. She was a responsible person. In her own world +she was as important a figure as was the district attorney in his. Her +allies were the man "higher up" in Tammany and the police of the upper +ranks of the uniformed force. And of the higher office of the district +attorney she possessed an intimate and respectful knowledge. It was +not to be considered that against the prosecuting attorney such a woman +would wage war. So the thought that upon his person any assault was +meditated Wharton dismissed as unintelligent. That it was upon his +reputation the attack was planned seemed much more probable. But that +contingency he had foreseen and so, he believed, forestalled. There then +remained only the possibility that the offer in the letter was genuine. +It seemed quite too good to be true. For, as he asked himself, on the +very eve of an election, why should Tammany, or a friend of Tammany, +place in his possession the information that to the Tammany candidate +would bring inevitable defeat. He felt that the way they were playing +into his hands was too open, too generous. If their object was to lead +him into a trap, of all baits they might use the promise to tell him who +killed Banf was the one certain to attract him. It made their invitation +to walk into the parlor almost too obvious. But were the offer not +genuine, there was a condition attached to it that puzzled him. It was +not the condition that stipulated he should come alone. His experience +had taught him many will confess, or betray, to the district attorney +who, to a deputy, will tell nothing. The condition that puzzled him was +the one that insisted he should come at once or it would be "too late." + +Why was haste so imperative? Why, if he delayed, would he be "too late"? +Was the man he sought about to escape from his jurisdiction, was he +dying, and was it his wish to make a death-bed confession; or was he so +reluctant to speak that delay might cause him to reconsider and remain +silent? + +With these questions in his mind, the minutes quickly passed, and it +was with a thrill of excitement Wharton saw that Nolan had left the +Zoological Gardens on the right and turned into the Boston Road. It had +but lately been completed and to Wharton was unfamiliar. On either side +of the unscarred roadway still lay scattered the uprooted trees and +boulders that had blocked its progress, and abandoned by the contractors +were empty tar-barrels, cement-sacks, tool-sheds, and forges. Nor +was the surrounding landscape less raw and unlovely. Toward the Sound +stretched vacant lots covered with ash heaps; to the left a few old and +broken houses set among the glass-covered cold frames of truck-farms. + +The district attorney felt a sudden twinge of loneliness. And when an +automobile sign told him he was "10 miles from Columbus Circle," he felt +that from the New York he knew he was much farther. Two miles up the +road his car overhauled a bicycle policeman, and Wharton halted him. + +"Is there a road-house called Kessler's beyond here?" he asked. + +"On the left, farther up," the officer told him, and added: "You can't +miss it Mr. Wharton; there's no other house near it." + +"You know me," said the D.A. "Then you'll understand what I want you to +do. I've agreed to go to that house alone. If they see you pass they may +think I'm not playing fair. So stop here." + +The man nodded and dismounted. + +"But," added the district attorney, as the car started forward again, +"If you hear shots, I don't care how fast you come." + +The officer grinned. + +"Better let me trail along now," he called; "that's a tough joint." + +But Wharton motioned him back; and when again he turned to look the man +still stood where they had parted. + +Two minutes later an empty taxi-cab came swiftly toward him and, as it +passed, the driver lifted his hand from the wheel, and with his thumb +motioned behind him. + +"That's one of the men," said Nolan, "that started with Mr. Rumson and +Hewitt from Delmonico's." + +Wharton nodded; and, now assured that in their plan there had been no +hitch, smiled with satisfaction. A moment later, when ahead of them on +the asphalt road Nolan pointed out a spot of yellow, he recognized the +signal and knew that within call were friends. + +The yellow cigarette-box lay directly in front of a long wooden building +of two stories. It was linked to the road by a curving driveway marked +on either side by whitewashed stones. + +On verandas enclosed In glass Wharton saw white-covered tables under +red candle-shade and, protruding from one end of the house and hung with +electric lights in paper lanterns, a pavilion for dancing. In the rear +of the house stood sheds and a thick tangle of trees on which the +autumn leaves showed yellow painted fingers and arrows pointing, and an +electric sign, proclaimed to all who passed that this was Kessler's. In +spite of its reputation, the house wore the aspect of the commonplace. +In evidence nothing flaunted, nothing threatened From a dozen other inns +along the Pelham Parkway and the Boston Post Road it was no way to be +distinguished. + +As directed in the note, Wharton left the car in the road. "For five +minutes stay where you are," he ordered Nolan; "then go to the bar and +get a drink. Don't talk to any one or they'll think you're trying to get +information. Work around to the back of the house. Stand where I can see +you from the window. I may want you to carry a message to Mr. Rumson." + +On foot Wharton walked up the curved drive-way, and if from the house +his approach was spied upon, there was no evidence. In the second story +the blinds were drawn and on the first floor the verandas were empty. +Nor, not even after he had mounted to the veranda and stepped inside +the house, was there any sign that his visit was expected. He stood in a +hall, and in front of him rose a broad flight of stairs that he guessed +led to the private supper-rooms. On his left was the restaurant. + +Swept and garnished after the revels of the night previous, and as +though resting in preparation for those to come, it an air of peaceful +inactivity. At a table a maitre d'ho'tel was composing the menu for the +evening, against the walls three colored waiters lounged sleepily, and +on a platform at a piano a pale youth with drugged eyes was with one +hand picking an accompaniment. As Wharton paused uncertainly the young +man, disdaining his audience, in a shrill, nasal tenor raised his voice +and sang: + + "And from the time the rooster calls I'll wear my overalls, + And you, a simple gingham gown. So, if you're strong for a +shower of rice, We two could make a paradise Of any One-Horse Town." + +At sight of Wharton the head waiter reluctantly detached himself from +his menu and rose. But before he could greet the visitor, Wharton heard +his name spoken and, looking up, saw a woman descending the stairs. It +was apparent that when young she had been beautiful, and, in spite of an +expression in her eyes of hardness and distrust, which seemed habitual, +she was still handsome. She was without a hat and wearing a house dress +of decorous shades and in the extreme of fashion. Her black hair, built +up in artificial waves, was heavy with brilliantine; her hands, covered +deep with rings, and of an unnatural white, showed the most fastidious +care. But her complexion was her own; and her skin, free from paint +and powder, glowed with that healthy pink that is supposed to be the +perquisite only of the simple life and a conscience undisturbed. + +"I am Mrs. Earle," said the woman. "I wrote you that note. Will you +please come this way?" + +That she did not suppose he might not come that way was obvious, for, as +she spoke, she turned her back on him and mounted the stairs. After an +instant of hesitation, Wharton followed. + +As well as his mind, his body was now acutely alive and vigilant. Both +physically and mentally he moved on tiptoe. For whatever surprise, for +whatever ambush might lie in wait, he was prepared. At the top of the +stairs he found a wide hall along which on both sides were many doors. +The one directly facing the stairs stood open. At one side of this the +woman halted and with a gesture of the jewelled fingers invited him to +enter. + +"My sitting-room," she said. As Wharton remained motionless she +substituted: "My office." + +Peering into the room, Wharton found it suited to both titles. He saw +comfortable chairs, vases filled with autumn leaves, in silver frames +photographs, and between two open windows a business-like roller-top +desk on which was a hand telephone. In plain sight through the windows +he beheld the garage and behind it the tops of trees. To summon Rumson, +to keep in touch with Nolan, he need only step to one of these windows +and beckon. The strategic position of the room appealed, and with a +bow of the head he passed in front of his hostess and entered it. He +continued to take note of his surroundings. + +He now saw that from the office in which he stood doors led to rooms +adjoining. These doors were shut, and he determined swiftly that before +the interview began he first must know what lay behind them. Mrs. Earle +had followed and, as she entered, closed the door. + +"No!" said Wharton. + +It was the first time he had spoken. For an instant the woman hesitated, +regarding him thoughtfully, and then without resentment pulled the door +open. She came toward him swiftly, and he was conscious of the rustle of +silk and the stirring of perfumes. At the open door she cast a frown of +disapproval and then, with her face close to his, spoke hurriedly in a +whisper. + +"A man brought a girl here to lunch," she said; "they've been here +before. The girl claims the man told her he was going to marry her. +Last night she found out he has a wife already, and she came here to-day +meaning to make trouble. She brought a gun. They were in the room at the +far end of the hall. George, the water, heard the two shots and ran down +here to get me. No one else heard. These rooms are fixed to keep out +noise, and the piano was going. We broke in and found them on the floor. +The man was shot through the shoulder, the girl through the body. His +story is that after she fired, in trying to get the gun from her, she +shot herself-by accident. That's right, I guess. But the girl says +they came here to die together--what the newspaper call a 'suicide +pact'--because they couldn't marry, and that he first shot her, +intending to kill her and then himself. That's silly. She framed it to +get him. She missed him with the gun, so now she's trying to get him +with this murder charge. I know her. If she'd been sober she wouldn't +have shot him; she'd have blackmailed him. She's that sort. I know her, +and----" + + With an exclamation the district attorney broke in upon her. "And +the man," he demanded eagerly; "was it HE killed Banf?" + +In amazement the woman stared. "Certainly NOT!" she said. + +"Then what HAS this to do with Banf?" + +"Nothing!" Her tone was annoyed, reproachful. "That was only to bring +you here." + +His disappointment was so keen that it threatened to exhibit itself +in anger. Recognizing this, before he spoke Wharton forced himself to +pause. Then he repeated her words quietly. + +"Bring me here?" he asked. "Why?" + +The woman exclaimed impatiently: "So you could beat the police to it," +she whispered. "So you could HUSH IT UP!" + +The surprised laugh of the man was quite real. It bore no resentment or +pose. He was genuinely amused. Then the dignity of his office, tricked +and insulted, demanded to be heard. He stared at her coldly; his +indignation was apparent. + +"You have done extremely ill," he told her. "You know perfectly well +you had no right to bring me up here; to drag me into a row in your +road-house. 'Hush it up!'" he exclaimed hotly. This time his laugh was +contemptuous and threatening. "I'll show you how I'll hush it up!" He +moved quickly to the open window. + +"Stop!" commanded the woman. "You can't do that!" She ran to the door. + +Again he was conscious of the rustle of silk, of the stirring of +perfumes. + +He heard the key turn in the lock. It had Come. It was a frame-up. There +would be a scandal. And to save himself from it they would force him +to "hush up" this other one. But, as to the outcome, in no way was he +concerned. Through the window, standing directly below it, he had seen +Nolan. In the sunlit yard the chauffeur, his cap on the back of his +head, his cigarette drooping from his lips, was tossing the remnants of +a sandwich to a circle of excited hens. He presented a picture of bored +indolence, of innocent preoccupation. It was almost too well done. + +Assured of a witness for the defense, he greeted the woman with a smile. +"Why can't I do it?" he taunted. + +She ran close to him and laid her hands on his arm. Her eyes were +fixed steadily on his. "Because," she whispered, "the man who shot that +girl-is your brother-in-law, Ham Cutler!" + +For what seemed a long time Wharton stood looking down into the eyes of +the woman, and the eyes never faltered. Later he recalled that in the +sudden silence many noises disturbed the lazy hush of the Indian-summer +afternoon: the rush of a motor-car on the Boston Road, the tinkle of +the piano and the voice of the youth with the drugged eyes singing, "And +you'll wear a simple gingham gown," from the yard below the cluck-cluck +of the chickens and the cooing of pigeons. + +His first thought was of his sister and of her children, and of what +this bomb, hurled from the clouds, would mean to her. He thought +of Cutler, at the height of his power and usefulness, by this one +disreputable act dragged into the mire, of what disaster it might bring +to the party, to himself. + +If, as the woman invited, he helped to "hush it up," and Tammany learned +the truth, it would make short work of him. It would say, for the +murderer of Banf he had one law and for the rich brother-in-law, who had +tried to kill the girl he deceived, another. But before he gave voice to +his thoughts he recognized them as springing only from panic. They were +of a part with the acts of men driven by sudden fear, and of which acts +in their sane moments they would be incapable. + +The shock of the woman's words had unsettled his traditions. Not only +was he condemning a man unheard, but a man who, though he might dislike +him, he had for years, for his private virtues, trusted and admired. The +panic passed and with a confident smile he shook his head. + +"I don't believe you," he said quietly. + +The manner of the woman was equally calm, equally assured. + +"Will you see her?" she asked. + +"I'd rather see my brother-in-law," he answered + +The woman handed him a card. + +"Doctor Muir took him to his private hospital," she said. "I loaned them +my car because it's a limousine. The address is on that card. But," she +added, "both your brother and Sammy--that's Sam Muir, the doctor--asked +you wouldn't use the telephone; they're afraid of a leak." + +Apparently Wharton did not hear her. As though it were "Exhibit A," +presented in evidence by the defense, he was studying the card she had +given him. He stuck it in his pocket. + +"I'll go to him at once," he said. + +To restrain or dissuade him, the woman made no sudden move. In level +tones she said: + +"Your brother-in-law asked especially that you wouldn't do that until +you'd fixed it with the girl. Your face is too well known. He's afraid +some one might find out where he is--and for a day or two no one must +know that." + +"This doctor knows it," retorted Wharton. + +The suggestion seemed to strike Mrs. Earle as humorous. For the first +time she laughed. "Sammy!" she exclaimed. "He's a lobbygow of mine. He's +worked for me for years. I could send him up the river if I liked. He +knows it." Her tone was convincing. "They both asked," she continued +evenly, "you should keep off until the girl is out of the country, and +fixed." Wharton frowned thoughtfully. + +And, observing this, the eyes of the woman showed that, so far, toward +the unfortunate incident the attitude of the district attorney was to +her most gratifying. Wharton ceased frowning. "How fixed?" he asked. +Mrs. Earle shrugged her shoulders. + +"Cutler's idea is money," she said; "but, believe me, he's wrong. This +girl is a vampire. She'll only come back to you for more. She'll keep on +threatening to tell the wife, to tell the papers. The way to fix her is +to throw a scare into her. And there's only one man can do that; there's +only one man that can hush this thing up--that's you." + +"When can I see her?" asked Wharton. + +"Now," said the woman. "I'll bring her." Wharton could not suppress an +involuntary "Here?" he exclaimed. + +For the shade of a second Mrs. Earle exhibited the slightest evidence of +embarrassment. + +"My room's in a mess," she explained; "and she's not hurt so much as +Sammy said. He told her she was in bad just to keep her quiet until you +got here." + +Mrs. Earle opened one of the doors leading from the room. "I won't be a +minute," she said. Quietly she closed the door behind her. + +Upon her disappearance the manner of the district attorney underwent an +abrupt change. He ran softly to the door opposite the one through which +Mrs. Earle had passed, and pulled it open. But, if beyond it he expected +to find an audience of eavesdroppers, he was disappointed. The room was +empty, and bore no evidence of recent occupation.. He closed the door, +and, from the roller-top desk, snatching a piece of paper, scribbled +upon it hastily. Wrapping the paper around a coin, and holding it +exposed to view, he showed himself at the window. Below him, to an +increasing circle of hens and pigeons, Nolan was still scattering +crumbs. Without withdrawing his gaze from them, the chauffeur nodded. +Wharton opened his hand and the note fell into the yard. Behind him he +heard the murmur of voices, the sobs of a woman in pain, and the rattle +of a door-knob. As from the window he turned quickly, he saw that toward +the spot where his note had fallen Nolan was tossing the last remnants +of his sandwich. + +The girl who entered with Mrs. Earle, leaning on her and supported by +her, was tall and fair. Around her shoulders her blond hair hung in +disorder, and around her waist, under the kimono Mrs. Earle had +thrown about her, were wrapped many layers of bandages. The girl moved +unsteadily and sank into a chair. + +In a hostile tone Mrs. Earle addressed her. + +"Rose," she said, "this is the district attorney." To him she added: +"She calls herself Rose Gerard." + +One hand the girl held close against her side, with the other she +brushed back the hair from her forehead. From half-closed eyes she +stared at Wharton defiantly. + +"Well," she challenged, "what about it?" + +Wharton seated himself in front of the roller-top desk. + +"Are you strong enough to tell me?" he asked. + +His tone was kind, and this the girl seemed to resent. + +"Don't you worry," she sneered, "I'm strong enough. Strong enough to +tell all I know--to you, and to the papers, and to a jury--until I get +justice." She clinched her free hand and feebly shook it at him. "THAT'S +what I'm going to get," she cried, her voice breaking hysterically, +"justice." + +From behind the arm-chair in which the girl half-reclined Mrs. Earle +caught the eye of the district attorney and shrugged her shoulders. + +"Just what DID happen?" asked Wharton. + +Apparently with an effort the girl pulled herself together. + +"I first met your brother-in-law----" she began. + +Wharton interrupted quietly. + +"Wait!" he said. "You are not talking to me as anybody's brother-in-law, +but as the district attorney." + +The girl laughed vindictively. + +"I don't wonder you're ashamed of him!" she jeered. + +Again she began: "I first met Ham Cutler last May. He wanted to marry me +then. He told me he was not a married man." + +As her story unfolded, Wharton did not again interrupt; and speaking +quickly, in abrupt, broken phrases, the girl brought her narrative to +the moment when, as she claimed, Cutler had attempted to kill her. +At this point a knock at the locked door caused both the girl and her +audience to start. Wharton looked at Mrs. Earle inquiringly, but she +shook her head, and with a look at him also of inquiry, and of suspicion +as well, opened the door. + +With apologies her head waiter presented a letter. + +"For Mr. Wharton," he explained, "from his chauffeur." + +Wharton's annoyance at the interruption was most apparent. "What the +devil----" he began. + +He read the note rapidly, and with a frown of irritation raised his eyes +to Mrs. Earle. + +"He wants to go to New Rochelle for an inner tube," he said. "How long +would it take him to get there and back?" + +The hard and distrustful expression upon the face of Mrs. Earle, which +was habitual, was now most strongly in evidence. Her eyes searched those +of Wharton. + +"Twenty minutes, she said. + +"He can't go," snapped Wharton. + +"Tell him," he directed the waiter, "to stay where he is. Tell him I +may want to go back to the office any minute." He turned eagerly to the +girl. "I'm sorry," he said. With impatience he crumpled the note into a +ball and glanced about him. At his feet was a waste-paper basket. Fixed +upon him he saw, while pretending not to see, the eyes of Mrs. Earle +burning with suspicion. If he destroyed the note, he knew suspicion +would become certainty. Without an instant of hesitation, carelessly +he tossed it intact into the waste-paper basket. Toward Rose Gerard he +swung the revolving chair. + +"Go on, Please," he commanded. + +The girl had now reached the climax of her story, but the eyes of +Mrs. Earle betrayed the fact that her thoughts were elsewhere. With +an intense and hungry longing, they were concentrated upon her own +waste-paper basket. + +The voice of the girl in anger and defiance recalled Mrs. Earle to the +business of the moment. + +"He tried to kill me," shouted Miss Rose. "And his shooting himself in +the shoulder was a bluff. THAT'S my story; that's the story I'm going +to tell the judge"--her voice soared shrilly--"that's the story that's +going to send your brother-in-law to Sing Sing!" + +For the first time Mrs. Earle contributed to the general conversation. + +"You talk like a fish," she said. + +The girl turned upon her savagely. + +"If he don't like the way I talk," she cried, "he can come across!" + +Mrs. Earle exclaimed in horror. Virtuously her hands were raised in +protest. + +"Like hell he will!" she said. "You can't pull that under my roof!" +Wharton looked disturbed. + +"Come across?" he asked. + +"Come across?" mimicked the girl. "Send me abroad and keep me there. And +I'll swear it was an accident. Twenty-five thousand, that's all I want. +Cutler told me he was going to make you governor. He can't make you +governor if he's in Sing Sing, can he? Ain't it worth twenty-five +thousand to you to be governor? Come on," she jeered, "kick in!" + +With a grave but untroubled voice Wharton addressed Mrs. Earle. + +"May I use your telephone?" he asked. He did not wait for her consent, +but from the desk lifted the hand telephone. + +"Spring, three one hundred!" he said. He sat with his legs comfortably +crossed, the stand of the instrument balanced on his knee, his eyes +gazing meditatively at the yellow tree-tops. + +If with apprehension both women started, if the girl thrust herself +forward, and by the hand of Mrs. Earle was dragged back, he did not +appear to know it. + +"Police headquarters?" they heard him ask. "I want to speak to the +commissioner. This is the district attorney." + +In the pause that followed, as though to torment her, the pain, in her +side apparently turned, for the girl screamed sharply. + +"Be still!" commanded the older woman. Breathless, across the top of the +arm-chair, she was leaning forward. Upon the man at the telephone her +eyes were fixed in fascination. + +"Commissioner," said the district attorney, "this is Wharton speaking. +A woman has made a charge of attempted murder to me against my +brother-in-law, Hamilton Cutler. On account of our relationship, I want +you to make the arrest. If there were any slip, and he got away, it +might be said I arranged it. You will find him at the Winona apartments +on the Southern Boulevard, in the private hospital of a Doctor Samuel +Muir. Arrest them both. The girl who makes the charge is at Kessler's +Cafe, on the Boston Post Road, just inside the city line. Arrest her +too. She tried to blackmail me. I'll appear against her." + +Wharton rose and addressed himself to Mrs. Earle. + +"I'm, sorry," he said, "but I had to do it. You might have known I could +not hush it up. I am the only man who can't hush it up. The people of +New York elected me to enforce the laws." Wharton's voice was raised to +a loud pitch. It seemed unnecessarily loud. It was almost as though he +were addressing another and more distant audience. "And," he continued, +his voice still soaring, "even if my own family suffer, even if I +suffer, even if I lose political promotion, those laws I will enforce!" +In the more conventional tone of every-day politeness, he added: "May I +speak to you outside, Mrs. Earle?" + +But, as in silence that lady descended the stairs, the district attorney +seemed to have forgotten what it was he wished to say. + +It was not until he had seen his chauffeur arouse himself from +apparently deep slumber and crank the car that he addressed her. + +"That girl," he said, "had better go back to bed. My men are all around +this house and, until the police come, will detain her." + +He shook the jewelled fingers of Mrs. Earle warmly. "I thank you," he +said; "I know you meant well. I know you wanted to help me, but"--he +shrugged his shoulders--"my duty!" + +As he walked down the driveway to his car his shoulders continued to +move. + +But Mrs. Earle did not wait to observe this phenomenon. Rid of his +presence, she leaped, rather than ran, up the stairs and threw open the +door of her office. + +As she entered, two men followed her. One was a young man who held in +his hand an open note-book, the other was Tim Meehan, of Tammany. The +latter greeted her with a shout. + +"We heard everything he said," he cried. His voice rose in torment. "An' +we can't use a word of it! He acted just like we'd oughta knowed he'd +act. He's HONEST! He's so damned honest he ain't human; he's a--gilded +saint!" + +Mrs. Earle did not heed him. On her knees she was tossing to the floor +the contents of the waste-paper basket. From them she snatched a piece +of crumpled paper. + +"Shut up!" she shouted. "Listen! His chauffeur brought him this." In a +voice that quivered with indignation, that sobbed with anger, she read +aloud: + +"'As directed by your note from the window, I went to the booth +and called up Mrs. Cutler's house and got herself on the phone. Your +brother-in-law lunched at home to-day with her and the children and they +are now going to the Hippodrome. + +"Stop, look, and listen! Back of the bar I see two men in a room, but +they did not see me. One is Tim Meehan, the other is a stenographer. +He is taking notes. Each of them has on the ear-muffs of a dictagraph. +Looks like you'd better watch your step and not say nothing you don't +want Tammany to print.'" The voice of Mrs. Earle rose in a shrill +shriek. + +"Him--a gilded saint?" she screamed; "you big stiff! He knew he was +talking into a dictagraph all the time, and he double-crossed us!" + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Frame Up, by Richard Harding Davis + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FRAME UP *** + +***** This file should be named 1806.txt or 1806.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/0/1806/ + +Produced by Aaron Cannon + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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This was contrary to his custom and a +concession to Hamilton Cutler, his distinguished brother-in-law. +That gentleman was interested in a State constabulary bill and had +asked State Senator Bissell to father it. He had suggested to the +senator that, in the legal points involved in the bill, his +brother-in-law would undoubtedly be charmed to advise him. So that +morning, to talk it over, Bissell had come from Albany and, as he +was forced to return the same afternoon, had asked Wharton to lunch +with him up-town near the station. + +That in public life there breathed a man with soul so dead who, +were he offered a chance to serve Hamilton Cutler, would not jump +at the chance was outside the experience of the county chairman. +And in so judging his fellow men, with the exception of one man, +the senator was right. The one man was Hamilton Cutler's +brother-in-law. + +In the national affairs of his party Hamilton Cutler was one of the +four leaders. In two cabinets he had held office. At a foreign +court as an ambassador his dinners, of which the diplomatic corps +still spoke with emotion, had upheld the dignity of ninety million +Americans. He was rich. The history of his family was the history +of the State. When the Albany boats drew abreast of the old Cutler +mansion on the cast bank of the Hudson the passengers pointed at it +with deference. Even when the search lights pointed at it, it was +with deference. And on Fifth Avenue, as the "Seeing New York" car +passed his town house it slowed respectfully to half speed. When, +apparently for no other reason than that she was good and +beautiful, he had married the sister of a then unknown up State +lawyer, every one felt Hamilton Cutler had made his first mistake. +But, like every thing else into which he entered, for him matrimony +also was a success. The prettiest girl in Utica showed herself +worthy of her distinguished husband. She had given him children as +beautiful as herself; as what Washington calls " a cabinet lady " +she had kept her name out of the newspapers; as Madame +L'Ambassatrice she had put archduchesses at their ease; and after +ten years she was an adoring wife, a devoted mother, and a proud +woman. Her pride was in believing that for every joy she knew she +was indebted entirely to her husband. To owe everything to him, to +feel that through him the blessings flowed, was her ideal of +happiness. + +In this ideal her brother did not share. Her delight in a sense of +obligation left him quite cold. No one better than himself knew +that his rapid-fire rise in public favor was due to his own +exertions, to the fact that he had worked very hard, had been +independent, had kept his hands clean, and had worn no man's +collar. Other people believed he owed his advancement to his +brother-in-law. He knew they believed that, and it hurt him. When, +at the annual dinner of the Amen Corner, they burlesqued him as +singing to "Ham" Cutler, "You made me what I am to-day, I hope +you're satisfied," he found that to laugh with the others was +something of an effort. His was a difficult position. He was a +party man; he had always worked inside the organization. The fact +that whenever he ran for an elective office the reformers indorsed +him and the best elements in the opposition parties voted for him +did not shake his loyalty to his own people. And to Hamilton +Cutler, as one of his party leaders, as one of the bosses of the +"invisible government," he was willing to defer. But while he could +give allegiance to his party leaders, and from them was willing to +receive the rewards of office, from a rich brother-in-law he was +not at all willing to accept anything. Still less was he willing +that of the credit he deserved for years of hard work for the +party, of self-denial, and of efficient public service the rich +brother-in-law, should rob him. + +His pride was to be known as a self-made man, as the servant only +of the voters. And now that ambition, now that he was district +attorney of New York City, to have it said that the office was the +gift of his brother-in-law was bitter. But he believed the +injustice would soon end. In a month he was coming up for +re-election, and night and day was conducting a campaign that he +hoped would result in a personal victory so complete as to banish +the shadow of his brother-in-law. Were he re-elected by the +majority on which he counted, he would have the party leaders on +their knees. Hamilton Cutler would be forced to come to him. He +would be in line for promotion. He knew the leaders did not want to +promote him, that they considered him too inclined to kick over the +traces; but were he now re-elected, at the next election, either +for mayor or governor, he would be his party's obvious and +legitimate candidate. + +The re-election was not to be an easy victory. Outside his own +party, to prevent his succeeding himself as district attorney, +Tammany Hall was using every weapon in her armory. The commissioner +of police was a Tammany man, and in the public prints Wharton had +repeatedly declared that Banf, his star witness against the police, +had been killed by the police, and that they had prevented the +discovery of his murderer. For this the wigwam wanted his scalp, +and to get it had raked his public and private life, had used +threats and bribes, and with women had tried to trap him into a +scandal. But "Big Tim" Meehan, the lieutenant the Hall had detailed +to destroy Wharton, had reported back that for their purpose his +record was useless, that bribes and threats only flattered him, and +that the traps set for him he had smilingly side- stepped. This was +the situation a month before election day when, to oblige his +brother-in-law, Wharton was up-town at Delmonico's lunching with +Senator Bissell. + +Down-town at the office, Rumson, the assistant district attorney, +was on his way to lunch when the telephone-girl halted him. Her +voice was lowered and betrayed almost human interest. + +From the corner of her mouth she whispered: "This man has a note +for Mr. Wharton--says if he don't get it quick it'll be too +late--says it will tell him who killed 'Heimie' Banf!" + +The young man and the girl looked at each other and smiled. Their +experience had not tended to make them credulous. Had he lived, +Hermann Banf would have been, for Wharton, the star witness against +a ring of corrupt police officials. In consequence his murder was +more than the taking off of a shady and disreputable citizen. It +was a blow struck at the high office of the district attorney, at +the grand jury, and the law. But, so far, whoever struck the blow +had escaped punishment, and though for a month, ceaselessly, by +night and day "the office" and the police had sought him, he was +still at large, still "unknown." There had been hundreds of clews. +They had been furnished by the detectives of the city and county +and of the private agencies, by amateurs, by news- papers, by +members of the underworld with a score to pay off or to gain favor. +But no clew had led anywhere. When, in hoarse whispers, the last +one had been confided to him by his detectives, Wharton had +protested indignantly. + +"Stop bringing me clews!" he exclaimed. "I want the man. I can't +electrocute a clew!" + +So when, after all other efforts, over the telephone a strange +voice offered to deliver the murderer, Rumson was skeptical. He +motioned the girl to switch to the desk telephone. + +"Assistant District Attorney Rumson speaking," he said. "What can +I do for you?"' + +Before the answer came, as though the speaker were choosing his +words, there was a pause. It lasted so long that Rumson exclaimed +sharply: + +"Hello," he called. "Do you want to speak to me, or do you want to +speak to me?" + +"I've gotta letter for the district attorney," said the voice. "I'm +to give it to nobody but him. It's about Banf. He must get it +quick, or it'll be too late." + +"Who are you?" demanded Rumson. "Where are you speaking from?" + +The man at the other end of the wire ignored the questions. + +"Where'll Wharton be for the next twenty minutes? " + +"If I tell you, "parried Rumson, "will you bring the letter at +once?" The voice exclaimed indignantly: + +"Bring nothing! I'll send it by district messenger. You're wasting +time trying to reach me. It's the LETTER you want. It tells----" +the voice broke with an oath and instantly began again: "I can't +talk over a phone. I tell you, it's life or death. If you lose out, +it's your own fault. Where can I find Wharton?" + +"At Delmonico's," answered Rumson. "He'll be there until two +o'clock." "Delmonico's! That's Forty-fort Street?" "Right," said +Rumson. "Tell the messenger----" He heard the receiver slam upon +the hook. With the light of the hunter in his eyes, he turned to +the girl. + +"They can laugh," he cried, "but I believe we've hooked something. +I'm going after it." In the waiting-room he found the detectives. +"Hewitt, " he ordered, "take the subway and whip up to Delmonico's. +Talk to the taxi-starter till a messenger-boy brings a letter for +the D. A. Let the boy deliver the note, and then trail him till he +reports to the man he got it from. Bring the man here. If it's a +district messenger and he doesn't report, but goes straight back to +the office, find out who gave him the note; get his description. +Then meet me at Delmonico's." + +Rumson called up that restaurant and had Wharton come to the phone. +He asked his chief to wait until a letter he believed to be of +great importance was delivered to him. He explained, but, of +necessity, somewhat sketchily. "It sounds to me," commented his +chief, "like a plot of yours to get a lunch up- town." + +"Invitation!" cried Rumson. "I'll be with you in ten minutes." + +After Rumson had joined Wharton and Bissell the note arrived. It +was brought to the restaurant by a messenger-boy, who said that in +answer to a call from a saloon on Sixth Avenue he had received it +from a young man in ready-to-wear clothes and a green hat. When +Hewitt, the detective, asked what the young man looked like, the +boy said he looked like a young man in ready-to-wear clothes and a +green hat. But when the note was read the identity of the man who +delivered it ceased to be of importance. The paper on which it was +written was without stamped address or monogram, and carried with +it the mixed odors of the drug-store at which it had been +purchased. The handwriting was that of a woman, and what she had +written was: "If the district attorney will come at once, and +alone, to Kessler's Cafe, on the Boston Post Road, near the city +line, he will be told who killed Hermann Banf. If he don't come in +an hour, it will be too late. If he brings anybody with him, he +won't be told anything. Leave your car in the road and walk up the +drive. Ida Earle." + +Hewitt, who had sent away the messenger-boy and had been called in +to give expert advice, was enthusiastic. + +"Mr. District Attorney," he cried, "that's no crank letter. This +Earle woman is wise. You got to take her as a serious proposition. +She wouldn't make that play if she couldn't get away with it." + +"Who is she?" asked Wharton. + +To the police, the detective assured them, Ida Earle had been known +for years. When she was young she had been under the protection of +a man high in the ranks of Tammany, and, in consequence, with her +different ventures the Police had never interfered. She now was +proprietress of the road-house in the note described as Kessler's +Cafe. It was a place for joy- riders. There was a cabaret, a hall +for public dancing, and rooms for very private suppers. + +In so far as it welcomed only those who could spend money it was +exclusive, but in all other respects its reputation was of the +worst. In situation it was lonely, and from other houses separated +by a quarter of a mile of dying trees and vacant lots. + +The Boston Post Road upon which it faced was the old post road, but +lately, through this back yard and dumping-ground of the city, had +been relaid. It was patrolled only and infrequently by bicycle +policemen. "But this," continued the detective eagerly, "is where +we win out. The road-house is an old farmhouse built over, with the +barns changed into garages. They stand on the edge of a wood. It's +about as big as a city block. If we come in through the woods from +the rear, the garages will hide us. Nobody in the house can see us, +but we won't be a hundred yards away. You've only to blow a police +whistle and we'll be with you." + +"You mean I ought to go?" said Wharton. + +Rumson exclaimed incredulously: "You got to go!" + +"It looks to me," objected Bissell, "like a plot to get you there +alone and rap you on the head." "Not with that note inviting him +there," protested Hewitt, "and signed by Earle herself." + +"You don't know she signed it?" objected the senator. + +"I know her," returned the detective. "I know she's no fool. It's +her place, and she wouldn't let them pull off any rough stuff +there--not against the D. A. anyway" + +The D. A. was rereading the note. "Might this be it?" he asked. +"Suppose it's a trick to mix me up in a scandal? You say the place +is disreputable. Suppose they're planning to compromise me just +before election. They've tried it already several times." + +"You've still got the note, If persisted Hewitt. "It proves why you +went there. And the senator, too. He can testify. And we won't be +hundred yards away. And," he added grudgingly, "you have Nolan." + +Nolan was the spoiled child of 'the office.' He was the district +attorney's pet. Although still young, he had scored as a detective +and as a driver of racing-cars. As Wharton's chauffeur he now +doubled the parts. + +"What Nolan testified wouldn't be any help," said Wharton. "They +would say it was just a story he invented to save me." + +"Then square yourself this way," urged Rumson. "Send a note now by +hand to Ham Cutler and one to your sister. Tell them you're going +to Ida Earle's--and why--tell them you're afraid it's a frame-up, +and for them to keep your notes as evidence. And enclose the one +from her." + +Wharton nodded in approval, and, while he wrote, Rumson and the +detective planned how, without those inside the road- house being +aware of their presence, they might be near it. + +Kessler's Cafe lay in the Seventy-ninth Police Precinct. In +taxi-cabs they arranged to start at once and proceed down White +Plains Avenue, which parallels the Boston Road, until they were on +a line with Kessler's, but from it hidden by the woods and the +garages. A walk of a quarter of a mile across lots and under cover +of the trees would bring them to within a hundred yards of the +house. + +Wharton was to give them a start of half an hour. That he might +know they were on watch, they agreed, after they dismissed the +taxi-cabs, to send one of them into the Boston Post Road past the +road-house. When it was directly in front of the cafe, the +chauffeur would throw away into the road an empty cigarette-case. + +From the cigar-stand they selected a cigarette box of a startling +yellow. At half a mile it was conspicuous. + +"When you see this in the road," explained Rumson, "you'll know +we're on the job. And after you're inside, if you need us, you've +only to go to a rear window and wave." + +"If they mean to do him up," growled Bissell, "he won't get to a +rear window." + +"He can always tell them we're outside," said Rumson----"and they +are extremely likely to believe him. Do you want a gun?" + +"No," said the D. A. + +"Better have mine,"' urged Hewitt. + +"I have my own," explained the D. A. + + Rumson and Hewitt set off in taxi-cabs and, a half-hour later, +Wharton followed. As he sank back against the cushions of the big +touring-car he felt a pleasing thrill of excitement, and as he +passed the traffic police, and they saluted mechanically, he +smiled. Had they guessed his errand their interest in his progress +would have been less perfunctory. In half an hour he might know +that the police killed Banf; in half an hour he himself might walk +into a trap they had, in turn, staged for him. As the car ran +swiftly through the clean October air, and the wind and sun +alternately chilled and warmed his blood, Wharton considered these +possibilities. + +He could not believe the woman Earle would lend herself to any plot +to do him bodily harm. She was a responsible person. In her own +world she was as important a figure as was the district attorney in +his. Her allies were the man "higher up " in Tammany and the police +of the upper ranks of the uniformed force. And of the higher office +of the district attorney she possessed an intimate and respectful +knowledge. It was not to be considered that against the prosecuting +attorney such a woman would wage war. So the thought that upon his +person any assault was meditated Wharton dismissed as +unintelligent. That it was upon his reputation the attack was +planned seemed much more probable. But that contingency he had +foreseen and so, he believed, forestalled. There then remained only +the possibility that the offer in the letter was genuine. It seemed +quite too good to be true. For, as he asked himself, on the very +eve of an election, why should Tammany, or a friend of Tammany, +place in his possession the information that to the Tammany +candidate would bring inevitable defeat. He felt that the way they +were playing into his hands was too open, too generous. If their +object was to lead him into a trap, of all baits they might use the +promise to tell him who killed Banf was the one certain to attract +him. It made their invitation to walk into the parlor almost too +obvious. But were the offer not genuine, there was a condition +attached to it that puzzled him. It was not the condition that +stipulated he should come alone. His experience had taught him many +will confess, or betray, to the district attorney who, to a deputy, +will tell nothing. The condition that puzzled him was the one that +insisted he should come at once or it would be "too late." + +Why was haste so imperative? Why, if he delayed, would he be "too +late"? Was the man he sought about to escape from his jurisdiction, +was he dying, and was it his wish to make a death-bed confession; +or was he so reluctant to speak that delay might cause him to +reconsider and remain silent? + +With these questions in his mind, the minutes quickly passed, and +it was with a thrill of excitement Wharton saw that Nolan had left +the Zoological Gardens on the right and turned into the Boston +Road. It had but lately been completed and to Wharton was +unfamiliar. On either side of the unscarred roadway still lay +scattered the uprooted trees and boulders that had blocked its +progress, and abandoned by the contractors were empty tar-barrels, +cement-sacks, tool-sheds, and forges. Nor was the surrounding +landscape less raw and unlovely. Toward the Sound stretched vacant +lots covered with ash heaps; to the left a few old and broken +houses set among the glass-covered cold frames of truck-farms. + +The district attorney felt a sudden twinge of loneliness. And when +an automobile sign told him he was "10 miles from Columbus Circle," +he felt that from the New York he knew he was much farther. Two +miles up the road his car overhauled a bicycle policeman, and +Wharton halted him. + +"Is there a road-house called Kessler's beyond here?" he asked. + +"On the left, farther up, "the officer told him, and added: "You +can't miss it ' Mr. Wharton; there's no other house near it." + +"You know me," said the D.A. "Then you'll understand what I want +you to do. I've agreed to go to that house alone. If they see you +pass they may think I'm not playing fair. So stop here. + +The man nodded and dismounted. + +"But," added the district attorney, as the car started forward +again, "If you hear shots, I don't care how fast you come." + +The officer grinned. + +"Better let me trail along now," he called; "that's a tough joint." + +But Wharton motioned him back; and when again he turned to look the +man still stood where they had parted. + +Two minutes later an empty taxi-cab came swiftly toward him and, as +it passed, the driver lifted his hand from the wheel, and with his +thumb motioned behind him. + +"That's one of the men," said Nolan,"that started with Mr. Rumson +and Hewitt from Delmonico's." + +Wharton nodded; and, now assured that in their plan there had been +no hitch, smiled with satisfaction. A moment later, when ahead of +them on the asphalt road Nolan pointed out a spot of yellow, he +recognized the signal and knew that within call were friends. + +The yellow cigarette-box lay directly in front of a long wooden +building of two stories. It was linked to the road by a curving +driveway marked on either side by whitewashed stones. + +On verandas enclosed In glass Wharton saw white-covered tables +under red candle-shade and, protruding from one end of the house +and hung with electric lights in paper lanterns, a pavilion for +dancing. In the rear of the house stood sheds and a thick tangle of +trees on which the autumn leaves showed yellow painted fingers and +arrows pointing, and an electric sign, proclaimed to all who passed +that this was Kessler's. In spite of its reputation, the house wore +the aspect of the commonplace. In evidence nothing flaunted, +nothing threatened From a dozen other inns along the Pelham Parkway +and the Boston Post Road it was no way to be distinguished. + +As directed In the note, Wharton left the car in the road." For +five minutes stay where yo are," he ordered Nolan; "then go to the +bar and get a drink. Don't talk to any one or they'll think you're +trying to get information. Work around to the back of the house. +Stand where I can see you from the window. I may want you to carry +a message to Mr. Rumson. + +On foot Wharton walked up the curved drive-way, and if from the +house his approach was spied upon, there was no evidence. In the +second story the blinds were drawn and on the first floor the +verandas were empty. Nor, not even after he had mounted to the +veranda and stepped inside the house, was there any sign that his +visit was expected. He stood in a hall, and in front of him rose a +broad flight of stairs that he guessed led to the private +supper-rooms. On his left was the restaurant. + +Swept and garnished after the revels of the night previous, and as +though resting in preparation for those to come, it an air of +peaceful inactivity. At a table a maitre d'ho'tel was composing the +menu for the evening, against the walls three colored waiters +lounged sleepily, and on a platform at a piano a pale youth with +drugged eyes was with one hand picking an accompaniment. As Wharton +paused uncertainly the young man, disdaining his audience, in a +shrill, nasal tenor raised his voice and sang: + + "And from the time the rooster calls I'll wear my overalls, + And you, a simple gingham gown. So, if you're strong for a +shower of rice, We two could make a paradise Of any One-Horse +Town." + +At sight of Wharton the head waiter reluctantly detached himself +from his menu and rose. But before he could greet the visitor, +Wharton heard his name spoken and, looking up, saw a woman +descending the stairs. It was apparent that when young she had been +beautiful, and, in spite of an expression in her eyes of hardness +and distrust, which seemed habitual, she was still handsome. She +was without a hat and wearing a house dress of decorous shades and +in the extreme of fashion. Her black hair, built up in artificial +waves, was heavy with brilliantine; her hands, covered deep with +rings, and of an unnatural white, showed the most fastidious care. +But her complexion was her own; and her skin, free from paint and +powder, glowed with that healthy pink that is supposed to be the +perquisite only of the simple life and a conscience undisturbed. + +"I am Mrs. Earle," said the woman. "I wrote you that note. Will you +please come this way?" + +That she did not suppose he might not come that way was obvious, +for, as she spoke, she turned her back on him and mounted the +stairs. After an instant of hesitation, Wharton followed. + +As well as his mind, his body was now acutely alive and vigilant. +Both physically and mentally he moved on tiptoe. For whatever +surprise, for whatever ambush might lie in wait, he was prepared. +At the top of the stairs he found a wide hall along which on both +sides were many doors. The one directly facing the stairs stood +open. At one side of this the woman halted and with a gesture of +the jewelled fingers invited him to enter. + +"My sitting-room," she said. As Wharton remained motionless she +substituted: " My office." + +Peering into the room, Wharton found it suited to both titles. He +saw comfortable chairs, vases filled with autumn leaves, in silver +frames photographs, and between two open windows a business-like +roller-top desk on which was a hand telephone. In plain sight +through the windows he beheld the garage and behind it the tops of +trees. To summon Rumson, to keep in touch with Nolan, he need only +step to one of these windows and beckon. The strategic position of +the room appealed, and with a bow of the head he passed in front of +his hostess and entered it. He continued to take note of his +surroundings. + +He now saw that from the office in which he stood doors led to +rooms adjoining. These doors were shut, and he determined swiftly +that before the interview began he first must know what lay behind +them. Mrs. Earle had followed and, as she entered, closed the door. + +"No!" said Wharton. + +It was the first time he had spoken. For an instant the woman +hesitated, regarding him thoughtfully, and then without resentment +pulled the door open. She came toward him swiftly, and he was +conscious of the rustle of silk and the stirring of perfumes. At +the open door she cast a frown of disapproval and then, with her +face close to his, spoke hurriedly in a whisper. + +"A man brought a girl here to lunch," she said; "they've been here +before. The girl claims the man told her he was going to marry her. +Last night she found out he has a wife already, and she came here +to-day meaning to make trouble. She brought a gun. They were in the +room at the far end of the hall. George, the water, heard the two +shots and ran down here to get me. No one else heard. These rooms +are fixed to keep out noise, and the piano was going. We broke in +and found them on the floor. The man was shot through the shoulder, +the girl through the body. His story is that after she fired, in +trying to get the gun from her, she shot herself-by accident. +That's right, I guess. But the girl says they came here to die +together--what the newspaper call a 'suicide pact'-- because they +couldn't marry, and that he first shot her, intending to kill her +and then himself. That's silly. She framed it to get him. She +missed him with the gun, so now she's trying to get him with this +murder charge. I know her. If she'd been sober she wouldn't have +shot him; she'd have blackmailed him. She's that sort. I know her, +and----" + + With an exclamation the district attorney broke in upon her. "And +the man," he demanded eagerly; "was it HE killed Banf?" + +In amazement the woman stared. "Certainly NOT!" she said. + +"Then what HAS this to do with Banf?" + +"Nothing!" Her tone was annoyed, reproachful. "That was only to +bring you here" + +His disappointment was so keen that it threatened to exhibit itself +in anger. Recognizing this, before he spoke Wharton forced himself +to pause. Then he repeated her words quietly. + +"Bring me here?" he asked. "Why?" + +The woman exclaimed impatiently: "So you could beat the police to +it," she whispered. "So you could HUSH IT UP!" + +The surprised laugh of the man was quite real. It bore no +resentment or pose. He was genuinely amused. Then the dignity of +his office, tricked and insulted, demanded to be heard. He stared +at her coldly; his indignation was apparent. + +"You have done extremely ill," he told her. "You know perfectly +well you had no right to bring me up here; to drag me into a row in +your road-house. 'Hush it up!"' he exclaimed hotly. This time his +laugh was contemptuous and threatening. "I'll show you how I'll +hush it up!" He moved quickly to the open window. + +"Stop!" commanded the woman. "You can't do that!" She ran to the +door. + +Again he was conscious of the rustle of silk, of the stirring of +perfumes. + +He heard the key turn in the lock. It had Come. It was a frame-up. +There would be a scandal. And to save himself from it they would +force him to "hush up" this other one. But, as to the outcome, in +no way was he concerned. Through the window, standing directly +below it, he had seen Nolan. In the sunlit yard the chauffeur, his +cap on the back of his head, his cigarette drooping from his lips, +was tossing the remnants of a sandwich to a circle of excited hens. +He presented a picture of bored indolence, of innocent +preoccupation. It was almost too well done. + +Assured of a witness for the defense, he greeted the woman with a +smile. "Why can't I do it?" he taunted. + +She ran close to him and laid her hands on his arm. Her eyes were +fixed steadily on his. "Because," she whispered, "the man who shot +that girl-is your brother-in-law, Ham Cutler!" + +For what seemed a long time Wharton stood looking down into the +eyes of the woman, and the eyes never faltered. Later he recalled +that in the sudden silence many noises disturbed the lazy hush of +the Indian-summer afternoon: the rush of a motor-car on the Boston +Road, the tinkle of the piano and the voice of the youth with the +drugged eyes singing, "And you'll wear a simple gingham gown," from +the yard below the cluck- cluck of the chickens and the cooing of +pigeons. + +His first thought was of his sister and of her children, and of +what this bomb, hurled from the clouds, would mean to her. He +thought of Cutler, at the height of his power and usefulness, by +this one disreputable act dragged into the mire, of what disaster +it might bring to the party, to himself. + +If, as the woman invited, he helped to "hush it up," and Tammany +learned the truth, it would make short work of him. It would say, +for the murderer of Banf he had one law and for the rich +brother-in-law, who had tried to kill the girl he deceived, +another. But before he gave voice to his thoughts he recognized +them as springing only from panic. They were of a part with the +acts of men driven by sudden fear, and of which acts in their sane +moments they would be incapable. + +The shock of the woman's words had unsettled his traditions. Not +only was he condemning a man unheard, but a man who, though he +might dislike him, he had for years, for his private virtues, +trusted and admired. The panic passed and with a confident smile he +shook his head. + +"I don't believe you," he said quietly. + +The manner of the woman was equally calm, equally assured. + +"Will you see her?" she asked. + +"I'd rather see my brother-in-law," he answered + +The woman handed him a card. + +"Doctor Muir took him to his private hospital," she said. "I loaned +them my car because it's a limousine. The address is on that card. +But," she added, "both your brother and Sammy-- that's Sam Muir, +the doctor--asked you wouldn't use the telephone; they're afraid of +a leak." + +Apparently Wharton did not hear her. As though it were "Exhibit A," +presented in evidence by the defense, he was studying the card she +had given him. He stuck it in his pocket. + +" I'll go to him at once," he said. + +To restrain or dissuade him, the woman made no sudden move. In +level tones she said: + +"Your brother-in-law asked especially that you wouldn't do that +until you'd fixed it with the girl. Your face is too well known. +He's afraid some one might find out where he is-- and for a day or +two no one must know that." + +"This doctor knows it," retorted Wharton. + +The suggestion seemed to strike Mrs. Earle as humorous. For the +first time she laughed. "Sammy!" she exclaimed. "He's a lobbygow of +mine. He's worked for me for years. I could send him up the river +if I liked. He knows it." Her tone was convincing. "They both +asked," she continued evenly, "you should keep off until the girl +is out of the country, and fixed." Wharton frowned thoughtfully. + +And, observing this, the eyes of the woman showed that, so far, +toward the unfortunate incident the attitude of the district +attorney was to her most gratifying. Wharton ceased frowning. "How +fixed?" he asked. Mrs. Earle shrugged her shoulders. + +"Cutler's idea is money," she said; "but, believe me, he's wrong. +This girl is a vampire. She'll only come back to you for more. +She'll keep on threatening to tell the wife, to tell the papers. +The way to fix her is to throw a scare into her. And there's only +one man can do that; there's only one man that can hush this thing +up--that's you." + +"When can I see her?" asked Wharton. + +"Now," said the woman. "I'll bring her." Wharton could not suppress +an involuntary "Here?" he exclaimed. + +For the shade of a second Mrs. Earle exhibited the slightest +evidence of embarrassment. + +"My room's in a mess," she explained; "and she's not hurt so much +as Sammy said. He told her she was in bad just to keep her quiet +until you got here." + +Mrs. Earle opened one of the doors leading from the room. "I won't +be a minute," she said. Quietly she closed the door behind her. + +Upon her disappearance the manner of the district attorney +underwent an abrupt change. He ran softly to the door opposite the +one through which Mrs. Earle had passed, and pulled it open. But, +if beyond it he expected to find an audience of eavesdroppers, he +was disappointed. The room was empty, and bore no evidence of +recent occupation. . He closed the door, and, from the roller-top +desk, snatching a piece of paper, scribbled upon it hastily. +Wrapping the paper around a coin, and holding it exposed to view, +he showed himself at the window. Below him, to an increasing circle +of hens and pigeons, Nolan was still scattering crumbs. Without +withdrawing his gaze from them, the chauffeur nodded. Wharton +opened his hand and the note fell into the yard. Behind him he +heard the murmur of voices, the sobs of a woman in pain, and the +rattle of a door-knob. As from the window he turned quickly, he saw +that toward the spot where his note had fallen Nolan was tossing +the last remnants of his sandwich. + +The girl who entered with Mrs. Earle, leaning on her and supported +by her, was tall and fair. Around her shoulders her blond hair hung +in disorder, and around her waist, under the kimono Mrs. Earle had +thrown about her, were wrapped many layers of bandages. The girl +moved unsteadily and sank into a chair. + +In a hostile tone Mrs. Earle addressed her. + +"Rose," she said, "this is the district attorney." To him she +added: "She calls herself Rose Gerard." + +One hand the girl held close against her side, with the other she +brushed back the hair from her forehead. From half-closed eyes she +stared at Wharton defiantly. + +"Well," she challenged, what about it?" + +Wharton seated himself in front of the roller-top desk. + +"Are you strong enough to tell me?" he asked. + +His tone was kind, and this the girl seemed to resent. + +"Don't you worry," she sneered, " I'm strong enough. Strong enough +to tell all I know--to you, and to the papers, and to a jury--until +I get justice." She clinched her free hand and feebly shook it at +him. " THAT'S what I'm going to get," she cried, her voice breaking +hysterically, "justice." + +From behind the arm-chair in which the girl half-reclined Mrs. +Earle caught the eye of the district attorney and shrugged her +shoulders. + +"Just what DID happen?" asked Wharton. + +Apparently with an effort the girl pulled herself together. + +"I first met your brother-in-law----" she began. + +Wharton interrupted quietly. + +"Wait!" he said. "You are not talking to me as anybody's +brother-in-law, but as the district attorney." + +The girl laughed vindictively. + +"I don't wonder you're ashamed of him!" she jeered. + +Again she began: "I first met Ham Cutler last May. He wanted to +marry me then. He told me he was not a married man." + +As her story unfolded, Wharton did not again interrupt; and +speaking quickly, in abrupt, broken phrases, the girl brought her +narrative to the moment when, as she claimed, Cutler had attempted +to kill her. At this point a knock at the locked door caused both +the girl and her audience to start. Wharton looked at Mrs. Earle +inquiringly, but she shook her head, and with a look at him also of +inquiry, and of suspicion as well, opened the door. + +With apologies her head waiter presented a letter. + +"For Mr. Wharton," he explained, "from his chauffeur." + +Wharton's annoyance at the interruption was most apparent. "What +the devil----" he began. + +He read the note rapidly, and with a frown of irritation raised his +eyes to Mrs. Earle. + +"He wants to go to New Rochelle for an inner tube," he said. "How +long would it take him to get there and back?" + +The hard and distrustful expression upon the face of Mrs. Earle, +which was habitual, was now most strongly in evidence. Her eyes +searched those of Wharton. + +"Twenty minutes, she said. + +"He can't go," snapped Wharton. + +"Tell him," he directed the waiter, to stay where he is. Tell him +I may want to go back to the office any minute." He turned eagerly +to the girl. "I'm sorry," he said. With impatience he crumpled the +note into a ball and glanced about him. At his feet was a +waste-paper basket. Fixed upon him he saw, while pretending not to +see, the eyes of Mrs. Earle burning with suspicion. If he destroyed +the note, he knew suspicion would become certainty. Without an +instant of hesitation, carelessly he tossed it intact into the +waste- paper basket. Toward Rose Gerard he swung the revolving +chair. + +"Go on, Please," he commanded. + +The girl had now reached the climax of her story, but the eyes of +Mrs. Earle betrayed the fact that her thoughts were elsewhere. With +an intense and hungry longing, they were concentrated upon her own +waste-paper basket. + +The voice of the girl in anger and defiance recalled Mrs. Earle to +the business of the moment. + +"He tried to kill me," shouted Miss Rose. "And his shooting himself +in the shoulder was a bluff. THAT'S my story; that's the story I'm +going to tell the judge "--her voice soared shrilly -- "that's the +story that's going to send your brother-in-law to Sing Sing!" + +For the first time Mrs. Earle contributed to the general +conversation. + +"You talk like a fish," she said. + +The girl turned upon her savagely. + +"If he don't like the way I talk," she cried, "he can come across!" + +Mrs. Earle exclaimed in horror. Virtuously her hands were raised in +protest. + +"Like hell he will!" she said. "You can't pull that under my roof!" +Wharton looked disturbed. + +"Come across?" he asked. + +"Come across?" mimicked the girl. "Send me abroad and keep me +there. And I'll swear it was an accident. Twenty-five thousand, +that's all I want. Cutler told me he was going to make you +governor. He can't make you governor if he's in Sing Sing, can he? +Ain't it worth twenty-five thousand to you to be governor? Come +on," she jeered, "kick in!" + +With a grave but untroubled voice Wharton addressed Mrs. Earle. + +"May I use your telephone?" he asked. He did not wait for her +consent, but from the desk lifted the hand telephone. + +"Spring, three one hundred!" he said. He sat with his legs +comfortably crossed, the stand of the instrument balanced on his +knee, his eyes gazing meditatively at the yellow tree- tops. + +If with apprehension both women started, if the girl thrust herself +forward, and by the hand of Mrs. Earle was dragged back, he did not +appear to know it. + +"Police headquarters?" they heard him ask. "I want to speak to the +commissioner. This is the district attorney" + +In the pause that followed, as though to torment her, the pain, in +her side apparently turned, for the girl screamed sharply. + +"Be still!" commanded the older woman. Breathless, across the top +of the arm-chair, she was leaning forward. Upon the man at the +telephone her eyes were fixed in fascination. + +"Commissioner," said the district attorney, "this is Wharton +speaking. A woman has made a charge of attempted murder to me +against my brother-in-law, Hamilton Cutler. On account of our +relationship, I want you to make the arrest. If there were any +slip, and he got away, it might be said I arranged it. You will +find him at the Winona apartments on the Southern Boulevard, in the +private hospital of a Doctor Samuel Muir. Arrest them both. The +girl who makes the charge is at Kessler's Cafe, on the Boston Post +Road, just inside the city line. Arrest her too. She tried to +blackmail me. I'll appear against her." + +Wharton rose and addressed himself to Mrs. Earle. + +"I'm, sorry," he said, "but I had to do it. You might have known I +could not hush it up. I am the only man who can't hush it up. The +people of New York elected me to enforce the laws." Wharton's voice +was raised to a loud pitch. It seemed unnecessarily loud. It was +almost as though he were addressing another and more distant +audience. "And," he continued, his voice still soaring, "even if my +own family suffer, even if I suffer, even if I lose political +promotion, those laws I will enforce!" In the more conventional +tone of every-day politeness, he added: "May I speak to you +outside, Mrs. Earle?" + +But, as in silence that lady descended the stairs, the district +attorney seemed to have forgotten what it was he wished to say. + +It was not until he had seen his chauffeur arouse himself from +apparently deep slumber and crank the car that he addressed her. + +"That girl," he said, "had better go back to bed. My men are all +around this house and, until the police come, will detain her." + +He shook the jewelled fingers of Mrs. Earle warmly. "I thank you," +he said; "I know you meant well. I know you wanted to help me, +but"--he shrugged his shoulders--"my duty!" + +As he walked down the driveway to his car his shoulders continued +to move. + +But Mrs. Earle did not wait to observe this phenomenon. Rid of his +presence, she leaped, rather than ran, up the stairs and threw open +the door of her office. + +As she entered, two men followed her. One was a young man who held +in his hand an open note-book, the other was Tim Meehan, of +Tammany. The latter greeted her with a shout. + +"We heard everything he said " he cried. His voice rose in torment. +"An' we can't use a word of it! He acted just like we'd oughta +knowed he'd act. He's HONEST! He's so damned honest he ain't human; +he's a -- gilded saint!" + +Mrs. Earle did not heed him. On her knees she was tossing to the +floor the contents of the waste-paper basket. From them she +snatched a piece of crumpled paper. + +"Shut up!" she shouted. "Listen! His chauffeur brought him this." +In a voice that quivered with indignation, that sobbed with anger, +she read aloud: + +" 'As directed by your note from the window, I went to the booth +and called up Mrs. Cutler's house and got herself on the phone. +Your brother-in-law lunched at home to-day with her and the +children and they are now going to the Hippodrome. + +"Stop, look, and listen! Back of the bar I see two men in a room, +but they did not see me. One is Tim Meehan, the other is a +stenographer. He is taking notes. Each of them has on the ear-muffs +of a dictagraph. Looks like you'd better watch your step and not +say nothing you don't want Tammany to print.'" The voice of Mrs. +Earle rose in a shrill shriek. + +"Him--a gilded saint?" she screamed; "you big stiff! He knew he was +talking into a dictagraph all the time, and he double- crossed us!" + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg Etext of The Frame Up by Richard Harding Davis + diff --git a/old/frmup10.zip b/old/frmup10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ec3e6b7 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/frmup10.zip |