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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/35504-0.txt b/35504-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3227731 --- /dev/null +++ b/35504-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9300 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Miss Maitland Private Secretary, by Geraldine Bonner + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: Miss Maitland Private Secretary + +Author: Geraldine Bonner + +Release Date: March 06, 2011 [eBook #35504] +[Most recently updated: April 7, 2021] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +Produced by: Darleen Dove, Mary Meehan, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISS MAITLAND PRIVATE SECRETARY *** + + + + + MISS MAITLAND PRIVATE SECRETARY + BY GERALDINE BONNER + + + + + AUTHOR OF "THE EMIGRANT TRAIL," "THE GIRL AT CENTRAL," "TREASURE AND + TROUBLE THEREWITH," ETC. + + + + + ILLUSTRATED BY + A. I. KELLER + + + + + D. APPLETON AND COMPANY + NEW YORK LONDON + 1919 + + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY + D. APPLETON AND COMPANY + + + + + COPYRIGHT 1918, 1919, BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY + + + + + PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA + + + + +[Illustration: _Rising into the white wash of moonlight came Suzanne_] + + + + +CONTENTS + + + · LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + · CHAPTER I—THE PARTING OF THE WAYS + · CHAPTER II—MISS MAITLAND GETS A LETTER + · CHAPTER III—ANOTHER LETTER AND WHAT FOLLOWED IT + · CHAPTER IV—THE CIGAR BAND + · CHAPTER V—ROBBERY IN HIGH PLACES + · CHAPTER VI—POOR MR. JANNEY! + · CHAPTER VII—CONCERNING DETECTIVES + · CHAPTER VIII—MOLLY’S STORY + · CHAPTER IX—GOOD HUNTING IN BERKELEY + · CHAPTER X—MOLLY’S STORY + · CHAPTER XI—FERGUSON’S IDEA + · CHAPTER XII—THE MAN WHO WOULDN’T TELL + · CHAPTER XIII—MOLLY’S STORY + · CHAPTER XIV—A CHAPTER ABOUT BAD TEMPERS + · CHAPTER XV—WHAT HAPPENED ON FRIDAY + · CHAPTER XVI—MOLLY’S STORY + · CHAPTER XVII—MISS MAITLAND IN A NEW LIGHT + · CHAPTER XVIII—THE HOUSE IN GAYLE STREET + · CHAPTER XIX—MOLLY’S STORY + · CHAPTER XX—MOLLY’S STORY + · CHAPTER XXI—SIGNED "CLANSMEN" + · CHAPTER XXII—SUZANNE FINDS A FRIEND + · CHAPTER XXIII—MOLLY’S STORY + · CHAPTER XXIV—CARDS ON THE TABLE + · CHAPTER XXV—MOLLY’S STORY + · CHAPTER XXVI—THE COUNTER PLOT + · CHAPTER XXVII—NIGHT ON THE CRESSON PIKE + · CHAPTER XXVIII—THE MAN IN THE BOAT + · CHAPTER XXIX—MISS MAITLAND EXPLAINS + · CHAPTER XXX—MOLLY’S STORY + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + +Rising into the white wash of moonlight came Suzanne +You’ve done one thing to me that you are going to regret +His face was ludicrous in its enraged enmity +Ferguson saw him in silhouette, a large, humped body with bent head + + + MISS MAITLAND PRIVATE SECRETARY + + + + + +CHAPTER I—THE PARTING OF THE WAYS + + +Chapman Price was leaving Grasslands. Events had been rapidly advancing +to that point for the last three months, slowly advancing for the last +three years. Everybody who knew the Prices and the Janneys said it was +inevitable, and people who didn’t know them but read about them in the +"society papers" could give quite glibly the reasons why Mrs. Chapman +Price was going to separate from her husband. + +His friends said it was her fault; Suzanne Price was enough to drive any +man away from her—selfish, exacting, bad tempered, a spoiled child of +wealth. Chappie had been a first-rate fellow when he married her and +she’d nagged and tormented him past bearing. _Her_ friends had a +different story; Chapman Price was no good, had neglected her, was an +idler and a spendthrift. Hadn’t the Janneys set him up in business over +and over and found it hopeless? What he had wanted was her money, and +people had told her so; her mother had begged her to give him up, but +she would have him and learned her lesson, poor girl! Those in the +Janney circle said there would have been a divorce long before if it +hadn’t been for the child. _She_ had held them together, kept them in a +sort of hostile, embattled partnership for years. And then, finally, +that link broke and Chapman Price had to go. + +There had been a last conclave in the library that morning, Mrs. Janney +presiding. Then they separated, silent and gloomy—a household of eight +years, even an uncongenial one, isn’t broken up without the sense of +finality weighing on its members. Chapman had gone to his rooms and +flung orders at his valet to pack up, and Suzanne had gone to hers, +thrown herself on the sofa, and sniffed salts with her eyes shut. Mr. +and Mrs. Janney repaired to the wide shaded balcony and there talked it +over in low tones. They were immensely relieved that it was at last +settled, though of course there would be the unpleasantness of a divorce +and the attending gossip. Mr. Janney hated gossip, but his wife, who had +risen from a Pittsburg suburb to her present proud eminence, was too +battle-scarred a veteran to mind a little thing like that. + +As they talked, their eyes wandered over a delightful prospect. First a +strip of velvet lawn, then a terrace and balustraded walk, and beyond +that the enameled brilliance of long gardens where flowers grew in +masses, thick borders, and delicate spatterings, bright against the +green. Back of the gardens were more lawns, shaven close and dappled +with tree shadows, then woods—Mrs. Janney’s far acres—on this fine +morning all shimmering and astir with a light, salt-tinged breeze. +Grasslands was on the northern side of Long Island, only half a mile +from the Sound through the seclusion of its own woods. + +It was quite a show place, the house a great, rambling, brown building +with slanting, shingled roofs and a flanking rim of balconies. Behind it +the sun struck fire from the glass of long greenhouses, and the tops of +garages, stables and out-buildings rose above concealing shrubberies and +trellises draped with the pink mantle of the rambler. Mrs. Janney had +bought it after her position was assured, paying a price that made all +Long Island real estate men glad at heart. + +Sitting in a wicker chair, a bag of knitting hanging from its arm, she +looked the proper head for such an establishment. She was fifty-four, +large—increasing stoutness was one of her minor trials—and was still a +handsome woman who "took care of herself." Her morning dress of white +embroidered muslin had been made by an artist. Her gray hair, creased by +a "permanent wave," was artfully disposed to show the fine shape of her +head and conceal the necessary switch. She was too naturally endowed +with good taste to indicate her wealth by vulgar display, and her hands +showed few rings; the modest brooch of amethysts fastening the neck of +her bodice was her sole ornament. And this was all the more commendable, +as Mrs. Janney had wonderful jewels of which she was very proud. + +Five years before, she had married Samuel Van Zile Janney, who now sat +opposite her clothed in white flannels and looking distressed. He was a +small, thin, elderly man, with a pointed gray beard and a general air of +cool, dry finish. No one had ever thought old Sam Janney would marry +again. He had lost his wife ages ago and had been a sort of historic +landmark for the last twenty years, living desolately at his club and +knowing everybody who was worth while. Of course he had family, endless +family, and thought a lot of it and all that sort of thing. So his +marriage to the Pittsburg widow came as a shock, and then his world +said: "Oh, well, the old chap wants a home and he’s going to get it—a +choice of homes—the house on upper Fifth Avenue, the place at Palm Beach +and Grasslands." + +It had been a very happy marriage, for Sam Janney with his traditions +and his conventions was a person of infinite tact, and he loved and +admired his wife. The one matter upon which they ever disagreed was +Suzanne. She had been foolishly indulged, her caprices and extravagances +were maddening, her manners on occasions extremely bad. Mr. Janney, who +had beautiful manners of his own, deplored it, also the amount of money +her mother allowed her; for the fortune was all Mrs. Janney’s, Suzanne +having been left dependent on her bounty. + +His wife, who had managed everything else so well, resented these +criticisms on what should have been the completest example of her +competence. She also resented them because she knew they were true. With +all her cleverness and all her capability she had not succeeded with her +daughter. The girl had got beyond her; the unfortunate marriage with +Chapman Price had been the climax of a youth of willfulness and +insubordination. Suzanne’s affairs, Suzanne’s future, Suzanne herself +were subjects that husband and wife avoided, except, as in the present +instance, when they were the only subjects in both their minds. + +Presently their low-toned murmurings were interrupted by the appearance +of Dixon, the butler, announcing lunch. + +"Mrs. Price," he said, "will not be down—she has a headache." + +Mrs. Janney rose, looking at the man. He had been in her service for +years, was one of the first outward and visible signs of her growth in +affluence. She was sure that he knew what had happened, but her face was +unrevealing as a mask, as she said: + +"See that she gets something. Will Mr. Price take his lunch upstairs?" + +"No, Madam," returned the man quietly, "Mr. Price is coming down." + +It was a ghastly meal—three of them eating sumptuous food, waited on by +two men hardly less silent than they were. It wouldn’t have been so +unbearable if Bébita, Suzanne’s daughter, had been there to lift the +curse off it with her artless chatter, or Esther Maitland, the social +secretary, who had acquired a habit of talking with Mr. Janney when the +rest of the family were held in the dumbness of wrath. But Bébita was +spending the morning with a little chum and Miss Maitland was lunching +with a friend in the village. + +Chapman Price, as if anxious to show how little he cared, ate everything +that was passed, and prolonged the misery by second helpings. Mrs. +Janney could have beaten him, she was so angry. Once she glanced at him +and met his eyes, insolently defiant, and as full of hostility as her +own. They were vital eyes, dark and bold, and were set in a handsome +face. At the time of his marriage he had been known as "Beauty Price" +and it was his good looks which had caught the capricious fancy of +Suzanne. In the eight years since then they had suffered, the firmly +modeled contours had grown thin and hard, the mouth had set in an ugly +line, the brows had creased by a frown of sulky resentment. But he was +still a noticeable figure, six feet, lean and agile, with a skin as +brown as a nut and a crown of black hair brushed to a glossy smoothness. +Many women continued to describe Chapman Price as "a perfect Adonis." + +When they rose from the table he stood aside to let his parents-in-law +pass out before him. They brushed by, feeling exceedingly uncomfortable +and wanting to get away as quickly as their dignity would permit. They +dreaded a last flare-up of his temper, notoriously violent and +uncontrolled, one of the attributes that had made him so unacceptable. +In the hall at the stair foot they half turned to him, swept him with +cold looks and were mumbling vague sounds that might have been dismissal +or farewell, when he suddenly raised his voice in a loud, combative +note: + +"Oh, don’t bother to be polite. There’s no love between us and there +needn’t be any hypocrisies. You want to get rid of me and I want to go. +But before I do, I’d like to say something." He drew a step nearer, his +face suddenly suffused with a dark flush, his eyes set and narrowed. +"You’ve done one thing to me that you’re going to regret—stolen my +child. Yes," in answer to a protesting sound from Mr. Janney, "_stolen_ +her—that’s what I said. You think you can hide behind your money bags +and do what you like. Maybe you can nine times, but there’s a tenth when +things don’t work the way you’ve expected. Watch out for it—it’s due +now." + + +[Illustration: _You’ve done one thing to me that you are going to +regret_] + + +His voice was raised, loud, furious, threatening. The dining room door +flew open and Dixon appeared on the threshold in alarmed consternation. +Mr. Janney stepped forward belligerently: + +"Chapman, now look here—" + +Mrs. Janney laid a hand on her husband’s arm: + +"Don’t answer him, Sam," then to Chapman, her face stony in its +controlled passion, "I want no more words with you. Our affairs are +finished. Kindly leave the house as soon as possible." She turned to the +butler who was staring at them with dropped jaw: "Shut that door, Dixon, +and stay where you belong." The sound of footsteps at the stair-head +caught her ear. "The other servants are coming: we’ll have an audience +for this pleasant scene. We’d better go, Sam, as Chapman doesn’t seem to +have heard my request for him to leave, the only thing for us is to +leave ourselves." + +She swept her husband off across the hall toward the balcony. Behind +them the young man’s voice rose: + +"Oh don’t have any fears. I’m going. But I may come back—that’s what you +want to remember—I may come back to settle the score." + +Then they heard his footsteps mounting the stairs in a long, leaping +run. + +In his own room he found his valet, Willitts, a small, fair-haired young +Englishman, closing the trunks. The door was open and he had a suspicion +that the footsteps Mrs. Janney had heard were probably Willitts’. He +didn’t care, he didn’t care what Willitts had heard. The man knew +anyhow; they _all_ knew. There wasn’t a servant in the house or a soul +in the village who wouldn’t by to-morrow be telling how the Janneys had +thrown him out and were planning to get possession of his child. + +He strode about the room, tumbled the neat piles of cravats and +handkerchiefs on the bureau, yanked up the blinds. In his still seething +passion he muttered curses at everything, the clothes that lay across +chair backs, the boots that he kicked as he walked, finally the valet +who once got in his way. The man made no answer, did not appear to +notice it, but went on with his work, silent, unobtrusive, competent. +Presently Chapman became quieter; the storm was receding. He fell into a +chair, sat sunk in moody reflection, and, after studying the shining +toes of his shoes for some minutes, looked at the man and said, "Forget +it, Willitts. I was mad straight through." + +It may have been a capacity to make such amends that caused all servants +to like Chapman Price. Willitts, who had been in his service for nearly +a year, was known to be devoted to him. + +An hour later, when they left, the house had an air of desertion. The +large lower hall, with vistas of stately rooms through arched doorways, +was as silent as the Sleeping Beauty’s palace. Chapman’s glance swept it +all—rich and still, gleams of parquette showing beyond the Persian rugs, +curtains too heavily splendid for the breeze to stir, flowers in glowing +masses, the big motor, visible through the wide-flung hall door, a +finishing touch in the picture. It was the perfect expression of a +carefully devised luxury, a luxury which for the last eight years had +lapped him in slothful ease. + +As he came out on the verandah steps a voice hailed him and he stopped, +the sullen ill humor of his face breaking into a smile. Across the lawn, +running with fleet steps, came his daughter Bébita. Laughing and gay +with welcome, she was as fresh as a morning rose. Her hat, slipped to +her neck, showed the glistening gold of her hair back-blown in ruffled +curls; her rapid passage threw her dress up over her bare, sunburned +knees, and her little feet in black-strapped slippers sped over the +grass. Healthy, happy, surrounded by love which she returned with a +child’s sweet democracy, she was enchanting and Chapman adored her. + +"Where are you going, Popsy?" she cried and, dodging round the back of +the motor, came panting up the steps. Chapman sat down on the top, and +drew her between his knees. Otto, the chauffeur, and Willitts with the +bags, watched them with covert interest, ready to avert their eyes if +Chapman should look their way. The nurse, an elderly woman, came slowly +across the grass, also watching. + +"To town," said the young man, scrutinizing the lovely, rosy face, with +its deep blue eyes raised to his. + +"For how long?" She was used to her father going to town and not +reappearing for several days. + +"Oh, I don’t know; longer than usual, though, I guess. Going to miss +me?" + +"Um, I always miss you, Popsy. Will you bring me something when you come +back?" + +"Yes, or maybe I’ll send it. What do you want?" + +"A ’lectric torch—one that shines. Polly’s got one"—Polly was the little +friend she had been visiting—"I want one like Polly’s." + +"All right. A ’lectric torch." + +"I’m going to get one, Annie," she cried triumphantly to the nurse; +"Popsy’s going to send me one." Then turning back to her father, "Take +me to the station with you?" + +Willitts and the chauffeur exchanged a glance. The nurse made a quick +forward movement, suddenly gently authoritative: + +"No, no, darling. You can’t drive now. It’s time to go in and take jour +rest." + +Bébita looked mutinous, but her father, drawing her to him and kissing +her, rose: + +"I can’t honey-bun. I’m in a hurry and there wouldn’t be any fun just +driving down to the village and back. You run along with Annie now and +as soon as I get to town I’ll buy you the torch and send it." + +The nurse mounted the steps, took the child’s hand, and together they +stood watching Chapman as he got in. Willitts took the seat beside the +chauffeur, adroitly disposing his legs among a pile of suitcases, golf +bags, umbrellas and walking sticks. As the car started Chapman looked +back at his daughter. She was regarding him with the intent, grave +interest, a little wistful, with which children watch a departure. At +the sight of his face, she smiled, pranced a little, and called: + +"Good-by, Popsy dear. Don’t forget the torch. Come back soon," and waved +her free hand. + +Chapman gave an answering wave and the big car rolled off with a cool +crackle of gravel. + +The village—the spotless, prosperous village of Berkeley enriched by the +great estates about it—was a half mile from Grasslands’ wrought-iron +gates. The road passed through woods, opening here and there to afford +glimpses of emerald lawns backed by large houses, with the slope of +awnings above their balconies. On either side of this highway ran a +shady path, worn hard by the feet of pedestrians and the wheels of +bicycles. + +As the Janney motor turned out into the road a young woman was walking +along one of these paths, returning to Grasslands. She appeared to be +engrossed in thought, her step loitering, her eyes down-cast, a slight +line showing between her brows. Out of range of the sun she had let her +parasol droop over her shoulder and its green disk made a charming +background for her head. She wore no hat and against the taut silk her +hair showed a glossy, burnished brown. It was beautiful hair, growing +low on her forehead and waving backward in loose undulations to the +thick knot at the nape of her neck. Her skin was pale, her eyes, under +long brows that lifted slightly at the outer ends, deep-set, narrow and +dark. She was hardly handsome, but people noticed her, wondered why they +did, and then said she was "artistic-looking," or maybe it was just +personality; anyway, say what you like, there was something about her +that caught your eye. Dressed entirely in white, a slim, sunburned hand +coiled round the parasol handle, her throat left bare by a sailor +collar, she was as trim, as flecklessly dainty, graceful and comely as a +picture-girl painted on the green canvas of the trees. + +At the sight of her Chapman, who had been lounging in the tonneau, +started and his morose eye brightened. As the motor ran toward her, she +looked up, saw who it was, and in the moment of passing, inclined her +head in a grave salutation. Chapman leaned forward and touched the +chauffeur on the shoulder. + +"Just stop for a minute, Otto, I want to speak to Miss Maitland." + +She did not see that the car had stopped or hear the footstep on the +grass behind her. Chapman’s voice was low: + +"Hullo, Esther. Don’t be in such a hurry. I’m going." + +She wheeled, evidently startled, her face disturbed and unsmiling. + +"Oh! Do you mean _really_ going?" + +"Yes. Parting of the ways—all that sort of thing." + +He eyed her with a curious, watching interest and she returned the look, +her own uneasily intent. + +"Why do you stop to tell me that," was what she said. "Everybody knew it +was coming." + +He shrugged and then smiled, a smile full of meaning: + +"I thought you’d like to hear it—from _me_, first hand. I’ll be a free +man in a year." + +She stood for a moment looking at the ground, then lifting the parasol +over her head, said: + +"If you’re going to catch the three forty-five you’d better hurry." + +His smile deepened, showed a roguish malice, and as he turned from her, +raising his hat, he murmured just loud enough for her to hear: + +"Thanks for reminding me. I wouldn’t miss that train for a farm—I’m +devilish keen to get to the city." + +He ran back to the waiting motor and the girl resumed her walk, her step +even slower than before, her face down-drooped in frowning reverie. + +There was no chair car on the three forty-five and Chapman had to travel +in the common coach, Willitts and the luggage crowded into the seat +behind him. It was an hour and a half run to the Pennsylvania Station +and he spent the time thinking over the situation and arranging his +future. His business—Long Island real estate—had been allowed to go to +the dogs. He would have to get busy in earnest, and, with his friends +and large acquaintance to throw things in his way, he could put it on a +paying basis. His expenses would have to be cut down to the bone. He’d +give up his chambers, a suite in a bachelor apartment—Willitts could +find him a cheap room somewhere—and of course he’d give up Willitts. +That had been already arranged and the faithful soul had asked leave to +help him in the move and stay with him till a new job was found. He +would keep his car—it would be necessary in his business—and could be +stored in the garage at Cedar Brook where he’d spend his week-ends with +the Hartleys. Joe Hartley was one of his best friends, knew all about +his marriage and had counseled a separation more than a year ago. He’d +probably spend a good deal of his time at Cedar Brook, it was a growing +place; unfortunate that it should be the next station after Berkeley, +but it could not be helped. He was bound to run into the Janney outfit +and he’d have to get used to it. + +The train was entering the tunnel when he gave Willitts his +instructions—go to the apartment and pack up, then see about a room. He +himself would look up some places he knew of, and if he found anything +suitable he’d come back to the apartment and the things could be moved +to-morrow. They separated in the depot, Willitts and the luggage in a +taxi, Chapman on foot. But that part of the city to which he took his +way, dingy, unkempt, remote from the section where his kind dwelt, was +not a place where Chapman Price, fallen from his high estate as he was, +would have chosen to house himself. + + + + +CHAPTER II—MISS MAITLAND GETS A LETTER + + +It was Thursday morning, three days after her husband’s departure, and +Suzanne was sitting in the window seat of her room looking across the +green distances to where the roof of Dick Ferguson’s place, Council +Oaks, rose above the tree tops. Council Oaks adjoined Grasslands, there +was a short cut which connected them—a path through the woods. Before +Mrs. Janney bought Grasslands the path had become moss-grown, almost +obliterated. Then when she took possession the two households wore it +bare again. The servants found it shortened the walk from kitchen to +kitchen; Mr. Janney often footed its green windings; Dick Ferguson’s +father had been one of his cronies, and Dick Ferguson himself was the +most constant traveler of them all. + +Council Oaks was a very old place; it had been in the Ferguson family +since the days when the British governors rolled over Long Island in +their lumbering coaches. Before that the Indians had used it for a +council ground, their tepees pitched under the shade of the four giant +oaks from which it took its name. The Fergusons had kept the farm house, +built after the Revolution, adding wings to it, till it now extended in +a long, sprawl of white buildings, with the original worn stone as a +step to its knockered front door, and the low, raftered ceilings, plank +floors, and deep-mouthed fireplaces of its early occupation. + +There Dick Ferguson lived all summer, going to town at intervals to +attend to the business of the Ferguson estate, for, like the young man +in the Bible, he had great possessions. The dead and gone Fergusons had +been canny and thrifty, bought land far beyond the city limits and sat +in their offices and waited until the town grew round it. It was known +among the present owner’s intimates that he disapproved of this method +of enrichment, and that his extensive charities and endowments were an +attempt to pay back what he felt he owed. He was very silent about them, +only a few knew of the many secret channels through which the Ferguson +millions were being diverted to the relief of the people. + +But none of this seriousness showed on the outside. If you didn’t know +him well Dick Ferguson was the last person you would suspect of a sense +of responsibility or a view of life that was anything but easy-going and +light-hearted. People described him as a nice chap, not a bit spoiled by +his money, just a big, jolly boy, simple and unaffected. He looked the +part with his long, lank figure, leggy as a young colt, his shock of +light brown hair that never would lie flat, his freckled, irregular face +with gray eyes that had an engaging way of closing when he laughed. He +did this a good deal and it may have been one of the reasons why so many +people liked him. And he also had a capacity for listening to +long-winded tales of trouble, which may have been another. He was +twenty-nine years old and still unmarried, and that was his own fault as +any one would tell you. + +When Sam Janney married the Pittsburg widow Dick Ferguson became a +friend of the family. He fitted in very well, for he was sympathetic and +understanding and the Janneys had troubles to tell. He heard all about +Chapman’s shortcomings; a little from old Sam who was not expansive, +more from Mrs. Janney, and most from Suzanne. He was very sorry for her +and gave her good advice. "A poor little bit of bluff," he called her to +himself, and then would stroll over to Grasslands and spend an hour with +her trying to cheer her up. + +He spent a good many hours this way and the time came when Suzanne began +to wait and watch for his coming. + +Sitting now in the cushioned window seat she was wondering if he would +come that morning and she could get him off in the garden and tell him +that Chapman was gone. She saw herself saying it with lowered eyes and +delicately demure phrases. She would frankly admit she was glad it was +over, glad she would be free once more, for in the autumn she would go +to Reno and begin proceedings for a divorce. + +At this thought she subsided against the cushions, and closed her eyes +smiling softly. Seen thus, the bright sunlight tempered by filmy +curtains, she was a pretty woman, looking very girlish for her +twenty-eight years. This was partly due to her extreme slenderness and +partly to her blonde coloring. Both had been preserved with sedulous +care: the one matter in which she exercised self-restraint was her food, +the one occasion on which she showed patience was when her maid was +washing her hair with a solution of peroxide. + +Every window in the large, luxurious room was open and through them +drifted a flow of air, scented with the sea and the breath of flowers. +Then rising on the stillness came the sound of voices—a man’s and a +woman’s—from the balcony below. They were Mr. Janney’s and Miss +Maitland’s—the secretary was preparing to read the morning papers to her +employer. + +Suzanne opened her eyes and sat up, the smile dying from her lips. The +dreamy complacence left her face and was replaced by a look of brooding +irritation. It changed her so completely that she ceased to be +pretty—suddenly showed her years, and was revealed as a woman, already +fading, preyed upon by secret vexations. + +She rose adjusting her dress, a marvelous creation of thin white +material with floating edges of lace. She went to the mirror, powdered +her face and touched her lips with a stick of red salve, then studied +her reflection. It should have been satisfying, delicate, fragile, a +lovely, ethereal creature, with baby blue eyes and silky, maize-colored +hair. It was not to be believed that any man could look at Esther +Maitland when she was by—and yet—and yet—! She turned from the mirror +with an angry mutter and went downstairs. + +On the balcony Miss Maitland was looking over the papers with Mr. Janney +opposite waiting to be read to. Suzanne sat down near them where she +could command the place in the woods where the path from Council Oaks +struck into the lawn. With a sidelong eye she noted the Secretary’s hand +on the edge of the paper—narrow, satin-skinned, with fingers finely +tapering and pink-tipped. _Her_ fingers were short and spatulate, +showing her common blood, and all the pink on them had to be applied +with a chamois. Miss Maitland began to read—the war news first was the +rule—and her voice was a pleasure to hear, cultivated, soft, musical. +Suzanne, for all her expensive education and subsequent efforts, had +never been able to refine hers; the ugly Pittsburg burr would crop out. + +A gnawing fancy that she had been fighting against for weeks rose +suddenly into jealous conviction. This girl—a penniless nobody—had a +quality, an air, a distinction, that she with all her advantages had +never been able to acquire, _could_ never acquire. It was something +innate, something you were born with, something that made you fitted for +any sphere. Immovable, apparently absorbed in the reading, Suzanne began +to think how she could induce her mother to dispense with the services +of the Social Secretary. + +When the war news was finished Miss Maitland passed on to the news of +the day. On this particular morning it was varied and interesting: A +Western senator had attacked the President’s policy with unseemly vigor; +the mysterious murder of a woman in Chicago had developed a new suspect; +a California mob had nearly killed a Japanese student; and in the New +York loft district a strike of shirtwaist makers had attained the +proportions of a riot in which one of the pickets had stabbed a +policeman with a hatpin. + +Mr. Janney was shocked at these horrors, but he always liked to hear +them. Miss Maitland had to stop reading and listen to a theory he had +evolved about the Chicago murder—it was the woman’s husband and he +demonstrated how this was possible. Then he took up the shirtwaist +strike with a fussy disapproval—they got nothing by violence, only set +the public against them and their cause. Miss Maitland was inclined to +argue about it; thought there was something to say for their methods and +said it. + +Suzanne listened uncomprehending, unable to join in or to follow. She +had heard such arguments before and had to sit silent, feeling a fool. +The girl didn’t know her place, talked as if she were their equal, +talked to Dick that way, and Dick had been interested, giving her an +attention he never gave Suzanne. Mr. Janney was doing it now, leaning +out of his chair, voicing his hope that a speedy vengeance would +overtake the picket who had made her escape in the mêlée. + +The conversation was brought to an end by the appearance of Mrs. Janney. +It was time for the mail; Otto had gone for it an hour ago. Before its +arrival Mrs. Janney wanted their answers about two dinner invitations +which had just come by telephone. One was for herself and Sam—Sunday +night at the Delavalles—and the other was from Dick Ferguson for +to-night—all of them, very informally—just himself and Ham Lorimer who +was staying there. + +Mr. Janney agreed to both and in answer to her mother’s glance Suzanne +said languidly, "Yes, she’d go to-night—there was nothing else to do." + +"And he wants you too, Miss Maitland," said Mrs. Janney, turning to the +Secretary. "You’ll come, won’t you?" + +Miss Maitland said she would and that it was very kind of Mr. Ferguson +to ask her. Mr. and Mrs. Janney exchanged a gratified glance; they were +much attached to the Secretary and felt that their lordly circle ignored +her existence more than was necessary or kindly. Suzanne said nothing, +but the edges of her small upper teeth set close on her under lip, and +her nostrils quivered with a deep-drawn breath. + +Mrs. Janney gave orders for messages of acceptance to be sent, then sank +into a chair, remarking to her husband: + +"I’m glad you’ll go to the Delavalles. It’s to be a large dinner. I’ll +wear my emeralds." + +To which Mr. Janney murmured: + +"By all means, my dear. The Delavalles will like to see them." + +Mrs. Janney’s emeralds were famous; they had once belonged to Maria +Theresa. As old Sam thought of them he smiled, for he knew why his wife +had decided to wear them. In her climbing days, before her marriage to +him had secured her position, the Delavalles had snubbed her. Now she +was going to snub them, not in any obvious, vulgar way, but finely as +was her wont, with the assistance of himself and Maria Theresa. + +The motor came into view gliding up the long drive and the waiting group +roused into expectant animation. Mr. Janney rose, kicking his trouser +legs into shape, Miss Maitland gathered up the papers, and Mrs. Janney +went to the top of the steps. In the tonneau, her body encircled by +Annie’s restraining arm, Bébita stood, waving an electric torch and +caroling joyfully: + +"It’s come—it’s come. It was sent to me, in a box, with my name on it." + +She leaped out, rushing up the steps to display her treasure, Annie +following with the mail. There was quite a bunch of it which Mrs. Janney +distributed—several for Sam, a pile for herself, one for Suzanne and one +for Miss Maitland. They settled down to it amid a crackling of torn +envelopes, Bébita darting from one to the other. + +She tried her mother first: + +"Mummy, look. You just press this and the light comes out at the other +end." + +Suzanne’s eyes on her letter did not lift, and Bébita laid a soft little +hand on the tinted cheek: + +"Mummy, do _please_ look." + +Suzanne pushed the hand away with an angry movement. + +"Let me alone, Bébita," she said sharply and, getting up, thrust the +child out of her way and went into the house. + +For a moment Bébita was astonished. Her mother, who was so often cross +to other people, was rarely so to her. But the torch was too enthralling +for any other subject to occupy her thoughts and she turned to her +grandfather, reading a business communication held out in front of his +nose for he had on the wrong glasses. She crowded in under his arm and +sparked the torch at him waiting to see his delighted surprise. But he +only drew her close, kissed her cheek and murmured without moving his +eyes: + +"Yes, darling. It’s wonderful." + +That was not what she wanted so she tried her grandmother: + +"Gran, _do_ look at my torch." + +Gran looked, not at the torch at all but at Bébita’s face, smiled into +it, said, "Dearest, it’s lovely and I’m so glad it’s come," and went +back to her reading. + +It was all disappointing, and Bébita, as a last resource, had to try +Miss Maitland, who, if not a relation, was always sympathetic and +responsive. The Secretary was reading too, holding her letter up high, +almost in front of her face. Bébita laid a sly finger on the top of it, +drew it down and sparked the torch right at Miss Maitland. + +In the shoot of brilliant light the Secretary’s face was like that of a +stranger—hard and thin, the mouth slightly open, the eyes staring +blankly at Bébita as if they had never seen her before. For a second the +child was dumb, held in a scared amazement, then backing away she +faltered: + +"Why—why—how funny you look!" + +The words seemed to bring Miss Maitland back to her usual, pleasant +aspect. She drew a deep breath, smiled and said: + +"I was thinking, that was all—something I was reading here. The torch is +beautiful; you must let me try it, but not now, I have to go. I’ve read +the papers to Gramp and I’ve work to do in my study." + +Any one who knew Miss Maitland well might have noticed a forced +sprightliness in her voice. But no one was listening; Suzanne had gone +and Mr. and Mrs. Janney were engrossed in their correspondence. She +stole a look at them, saw them unheeding and, with a farewell nod to +Bébita, rose and crossed the balcony. As she entered the house, the will +that had made her smile, maintained her voice at its clear, fresh note, +relaxed. Her face sharpened, its soft curves grew rigid, her lips closed +in a narrow line. With noiseless steps she ran through the wide foyer +hall and down a passage that led to the room, reserved for her use and +called her study. Here, locking the door, she came to a stand, her hands +clasped against her breast, her eyes fixed and tragic, a figure of +consternation. + + + + +CHAPTER III—ANOTHER LETTER AND WHAT FOLLOWED IT + + +Suzanne, her letter crumpled in her hand, had gone directly to her own +room. There she read it for the second time, its baleful import sinking +deeper into her consciousness with every sentence. It was in typewriting +and bore the Berkeley postmark: + + "_Dear Mrs. Price_: + + "This is just a line to give your memory and your conscience a + jog. Your bridge debts are accumulating. Also, I hear, there are + dressmakers and milliners in town who are growing restive. If + there was insufficient means I wouldn’t bother you, but any one + who dresses and spends as you do hasn’t that excuse. Perhaps you + don’t know what is being said and _felt_. Believe me you + wouldn’t like it; neither would Mrs. Janney. It is for her sake + that I am warning you. I don’t want to see her hurt and + humiliated as she would be if this comes out in _The + Eavesdropper_, and it will unless you act quickly. ’There’s a + chiel among you takin’ notes’ and that chiel’s had a line on you + for some time. So take these words to heart and as the boys say, + ’Come across.’ + + "_A Friend._" + +Ever since the opening of the season the summer colony of which Berkeley +was the hub had been the subject of paragraphs—more or less +scandalous—appearing in _The Eavesdropper_. The paper, a scurrilous +weekly, had evidently some inside informer, for most of the disclosures +were true and could only have been obtained by a member of the +community. Suzanne, whose debts would make racy reading, had quaked +every time she opened it. So far she had been spared, and she had hoped +to escape by a gradual clearing off of her obligations. But she had not +been able to do it—unforeseen things had happened. And now the dreaded +had come to pass—she would be written up in _The Eavesdropper_. + +Though her allowance had been princely she had kept on going over it +ever since her marriage and her mother had kept on covering the deficit. +But last autumn Mrs. Janney had lost both patience and temper and put +her foot down with a final stamp. Then the winter had come, a feverish, +crowded winter of endless parties and endless card playing, and Suzanne +had somehow gone over it again, gone over—she didn’t dare to think of +what she owed. Tradespeople had threatened her, she was afraid to go to +her mother, she told lies and made promises, and at that juncture a +woman friend acquainted her with the mystery of stocks—easy money to be +made in speculation. She had tried that and made a good deal—almost +cleared her score—and then in April all her stocks suddenly went down. +Inquiries revealed the fact that stocks did not always stay down and +reassured she set forth on a zestful orgy of renewed bridge and summer +outfitting. But the stocks never came up, they remained down, as far +down as they could get, against the bottom. + +She felt as if she was there herself as she reviewed her position. + +She couldn’t let it be known. She would be ruined, called dishonest; the +yellow papers might get it—they were always writing things against the +rich. Dick Ferguson would see it, and he despised people who didn’t pay +their bills; she had heard him say so to Mr. Janney, remembered his tone +of contempt. There would be no use lying to him for she felt bitterly +certain that Mr. Janney had told him what her mother gave her. There was +nothing for it but to go to Mrs. Janney and she quailed at the thought, +for her mother, forgiving unto seventy times seven, at seventy times +eight could be resolute and relentless. But it was the one way out and +she had to take it. + +When no engagements claimed her afternoons Mrs. Janney went for a drive +at four. At lunch she announced her intention of going out in the open +car and asked if any of the others wanted to come. All refused: Mr. +Janney was contemplating a ride, Suzanne would rest, Miss Maitland had +some sewing to do on her dress for that evening. Both Suzanne and Miss +Maitland were very quiet and appeared to suffer from a loss of appetite. +After the meal the Secretary went upstairs and Suzanne followed. + +She waited until Mr. Janney was safely started on his ride, then, +feeling sick and wan, crossed the hall to her mother’s boudoir. Mrs. +Janney was at her desk writing letters, with Elspeth, her maid, a +gray-haired, sturdy Scotch woman, standing by the table opening packages +that had just arrived from town. Elspeth, like most of Mrs. Janney’s +servants, had been in her employ for years, entering her service in the +old Pittsburg days and being promoted to the post of personal attendant. +She knew a good deal about the household, more even than Dixon, admired +and respected her mistress and disliked Suzanne. + +The young woman’s first remark was addressed to her, and, curtly +imperious, was of a kind that fed the dislike: + +"Go. I want to talk to Mrs. Janney." + +"That’ll do, Elspeth," said Mrs. Janney quietly. "Thank you very much. +I’ll finish the others myself." Then as the woman withdrew into the +bedroom beyond, "I wish you wouldn’t speak to Elspeth that way, Suzanne. +It’s bad taste and bad manners." + +Suzanne was in no state to consider Elspeth’s feelings or her own +manners. She was so nervous that she blundered into her subject without +diplomatic preliminaries, gaining no encouragement from her mother’s +face, which, at first startled, gradually hardened into stern +indignation. + +It was a hateful scene, degenerated—anyway on Suzanne’s part—into a +quarrel, a bitter arraignment of her mother as unloving and ungenerous. +For Mrs. Janney refused the money, put her foot down with a stamp that +carried conviction. She was even grimmer and more determined than her +daughter had expected, the girl’s anger and upbraidings ineffectual to +gain their purpose as spray to soften a rock. Her decision was ruthless; +Suzanne must pay her own debts, out of her own allowance. Yes, even if +she was written up in the papers. That was _her_ affair: if she did +things that were disgraceful she must bear the disgrace. The interview +ended by Suzanne rushing out of the room, a trail of loud, clamorous +sobs marking her passage to her own door. + +When she had gone Mrs. Janney broke down and cried a little. She had +thought the girl improved of late, less selfish, more tender. And now +she had been so cruel; the charge of a lack in love had pierced the +mother’s heart. Mr. Janney, returned from his ride, found her there, +looking old, her eyes reddened, her voice husky. When he heard the +story, he took her hand and stroked it. His tact prevented him from +saying what he felt; what he did say was: + +"That bridge money’ll have to be paid." + +"It will _all_ have to be paid," Mrs. Janney sighed, "and I’ll have to +pay it as I always have. But I’m going to frighten her—let her think I +won’t—for a few days anyway. It’s all I can do and it may have some +effect." + +Her husband agreed that it might but his thoughts were not hopeful. +There always had to be a crumpled rose leaf and Suzanne was theirs. + +He accompanied his wife on her drive and was so understanding, so +unobtrusively soothing and sympathetic, that when they returned she was +once more her masterful, competent self. Noting a bank of storm clouds +rising from the east, she told Otto to bring the limousine when he came +for them at a quarter to eight. Inside the house she summoned Dixon and +said as the family would be out "the help"—it was part of her beneficent +policy to call her retinue by this name when speaking to any of its +members—could go out that night if they so willed. Dixon admitted that +they had already planned a general sortie on "the movies" in the +village. All but Hannah, the cook, who had "something like shooting +pains in her feet, and Delia, the second housemaid, who’d got an insect +in her eyes, Madam. But it wasn’t the hurt of it that kept her in, only +the look which she didn’t want seen." + +At seven the storm drove up, black and lowering, and the rain fell in a +torrent. It was still falling when Mr. and Mrs. Janney descended the +stairs, a little in advance of the time set, for, while dressing, Mrs. +Janney had decided that her costume needed a brightening touch, which +would be suitably imparted by her opal necklace. This, being rarely +worn, was kept with the more valuable jewels in the safe of which +Elspeth did not know the combination. Of course Mrs. Janney did, and at +the foot of the stairs she turned into a passage which led from the +foyer hall into the kitchen wing. It was a short connecting artery of +the great house, lit by two windows that gave on rear lawns, and at +present encumbered by a chair standing near the first window. Mrs. +Janney recognized the chair as one from her sitting room which had been +broken and which Isaac, the footman, had said he could repair. She gave +it a proprietor’s inspecting glance, touched the wounded spot, and +encountering wet varnish, warned Mr. Janney away. + +In the wall opposite the windows the safe door rose black and +uncompromising as a prison entrance. It was large and old fashioned—put +in by the former owner of Grasslands. Mrs. Janney talked of having a +more modern one substituted but hadn’t "got round to it," and anyway Mr. +Janney thought it was all right—burglaries were rare in Berkeley. The +silver had already been stored for the night, the bosses of great bowls, +flowered rims, and filagree edgings shining from darkling recesses. The +electric light across the hallway did not penetrate to the side shelves +and Mr. Janney had to assist with matches while his wife felt round +among the jewel cases, opening several in her search. Finally they +emerged, Mrs. Janney with the opals which after some straining she +clasped round her neck, while Sam closed the door. + +As they reëntered the main hall Suzanne came down the stairs, tripping +daintily with small pointed feet. She was very splendid, her slenderness +accentuated by the length of satin swathed about her, from which her +shoulders emerged, girlishly fragile. She was also very much made up, of +a pink and white too dazzlingly pure. With her blushing delicacy of +tint, her angry eyes and sulkily drooping mouth, Mr. Janney thought she +looked exactly like a crumpled rose leaf. + +"Where’s Miss Maitland?" she said to him, ostentatiously ignoring her +mother. + +Before he could answer Esther’s voice came from the hall above: + +"Coming—coming. I hope I haven’t kept you," and she appeared at the +stair-head. + +The dress she wore, green trimmed with a design of small, pink chiffon +rosebuds and leaves, was the realized dream of a great Parisian +_faiseur_. It had been Mrs. Janney’s who, considering it too youthful, +had given it to her Secretary. Its vivid hue was singularly becoming, +lending a warm whiteness to the girl’s pale skin, bringing out the rich +darkness of her burnished hair. Her bare neck was as smooth as curds, +not a bone rippled its gracious contours; the little rosebuds and leaves +that edged the corsage looked like a garland painted on ivory. + +It was a good dinner, but it was not as jolly as Dick Ferguson’s dinners +usually were. Before it was over the rain stopped and a full moon shone +through the dining room windows. Suzanne had hoped she and Dick could +saunter off into the rose garden and have that talk about Chapman, but +he showed no desire to do so. They sat about in long chairs on the +balcony and she had to listen to Ham Lorimer’s opinions on the war. + +As soon as the motor came she wanted to go—she was tired, she had a +headache. It was early, only a quarter past ten, and the night was now +superb, the sky a clear, starless blue with the great moon queening it +alone. Mr. Janney would have liked to linger—he always enjoyed an +evening with Dick—but she was petulantly perverse, and they moved to the +waiting car with Ferguson in attendance. + +Mrs. Janney settled herself in the back seat, Suzanne, lifting +shimmering skirts, prepared to follow, while Miss Maitland waited humbly +to take what room was left among their assembled knees. She was close to +Ferguson who was helping Suzanne in, and looking up at the sky murmured +low to herself: + +"What a glorious night!" + +Ferguson heard her and dropped Suzanne’s arm. + +"Isn’t it? Too good to waste. Does any one want to walk back to +Grasslands?" + +Suzanne, one foot on the step, stopped and turned to him. Her lips +opened to speak, and then she saw the back of his head and heard him +address Esther: + +"How about it, Miss Maitland? You’re a walker, and it’s only a step by +the wood path. We can be there almost as soon as the car." + +"You’ll get wet," said Mrs. Janney, "the woods will be dripping." + +Mr. Janney remembered his youth and egged them on: + +"Only underfoot and they can change their shoes. Dick’s right—it’s too +good to waste. I’d go myself but I’m afraid of my rheumatism. Hurry up, +Suzanne, and get in. They want to start." + +Miss Maitland said she wasn’t afraid of the wet and that it would not +hurt her slippers. Suzanne entered the car and sunk into her corner. As +it rolled away Mr. and Mrs. Janney looked back at the two figures in the +moonlight and waved good-byes. Suzanne sat motionless; all the way home +she said nothing. + + + + +CHAPTER IV—THE CIGAR BAND + + +Esther and Ferguson walked across the open spaces of lawn and then +entered the woods. Ferguson had set the pace as slow, but he noticed +that she quickened it, faring along beside him with a light, swift step. +He also noticed that she was quiet, as she had been at dinner; as if she +was abstracted, not like herself. + +He had seen a good deal of her lately and thought of her a good +deal—thought many things. One was that she was interesting, provocative +in her quiet reserve, not as easy to see through as most women. She was +clever, used her brains; he had formed a habit of talking to her on +matters that he never spoke of with other girls. And he admired her +looks, nothing cheap about them; "thoroughbred" was the word that always +rose to his mind as he greeted her. It seemed to him all wrong that she +should be working for a wage as the Janneys’ hireling, for, though he +was "advanced" in his opinions, when it came to women there was a strain +of sentimentality in his make-up. + +On the wood path he let her go ahead, seeing her figure spattered with +white lights that ran across her shoulders and up and down her back. +They had walked in silence for some minutes when he suddenly said: + +"What’s amiss?" + +She slackened her gait so that he came up beside her. + +"Amiss? With what, with whom?" + +"You. What’s wrong? What’s on your mind?" + +A shaft of moonlight fell through a break in the branches and struck +across her shoulder. It caught the little rosebuds that lay against her +neck and he saw them move as if lifted by a quick breath. + +"There’s nothing on my mind. Why do you think there is?" + +"Because at dinner you didn’t eat anything and were as quiet as if there +was an embargo on the English language." + +"Couldn’t I be just stupid?" + +He turned to her, seeing her face a pale oval against the silver-moted +background: + +"No. Not if you tried your darndest." + +Dick Ferguson’s tongue did not lend itself readily to compliments. He +gave forth this one with a seriousness that was almost solemn. + +She laughed, the sound suggesting embarrassment, and looked away from +him her eyes on the ground. Just in front of them the woodland roof +showed a gap, and through it the light fell across the path in a +glittering pool. As they advanced upon it she gave an exclamation, +stayed him with an outflung arm, and bent to the moss at her feet: + +"Oh, wait a minute—How exciting! I’ve found something." + +She raised herself, illumined by the radiance, a small object that +showed a golden glint in her hand. Then her voice came deprecating, +disappointed: + +"Oh, what a fraud! I thought it was a ring." + +On her palm lay what looked like a heavy enameled ring. Ferguson took it +up; it was of paper, a cigar band embossed in red and gold. + +"Umph," he said, dropping it back, "I don’t wonder you were fooled." + +"It was right there on the moss shining in the moonlight. I thought I’d +found something wonderful." She touched it with a careful finger. "It’s +new and perfectly dry. It’s only been here since the storm." + +"Some man taking a short cut through the woods. Better not tell Mrs. +Janney, she doesn’t like trespassers." + +She held it up, moving it about so that the thick gold tracery shone: + +"It’s really very pretty. A ring like that wouldn’t be at all bad. +Look!" she slipped it on her finger and held the hand out studying it +critically. It was a beautiful hand, like marble against the blackness +of the trees, the band encircling the third finger. + +Ferguson looked and then said slowly: + +"You’ve got it on your engagement finger." + +"Oh, so I have." Her laugh came quick as if to cover confusion and she +drew the band off, saying, as she cast it daintily from her finger-tips, +"There—away with it. I hate to be fooled," and started on at a brisk +pace. + +Ferguson bent and picked it up, then followed her. He said nothing for +quite suddenly, at the sight of the ring on her finger, he had been +invaded by a curious agitation, a gripping, upsetting, disturbing +agitation. It was so sharp, so unexpected, so compelling in its rapid +attack, that his outside consciousness seemed submerged by it and he +trod the path unaware of his surroundings. + +He had never thought of Esther Maitland being engaged, of ever marrying. +He had accepted her as some one who would always be close at hand, +always accessible, always in town or country to be found at the +Janneys’. And the ring had brought to his mind with a startling +clearness that some day she _might_ marry. Some day a man would put a +ring on that finger, put it on with vows and kisses, put it on as a sign +and symbol of his ownership. Ferguson felt as if he had been shaken from +an agreeable lethargy. He was filled with a surge of indignation, at +what he could not exactly tell. He felt so many things that he did not +know which he felt the most acutely, but a sense of grievance was mixed +with jealousy and both were dominated by an angry certainty that any man +who aspired to her would be unworthy. + +When they emerged into the open he looked at her with a new +expression—questioning, almost fierce and yet humble. Sauntering at her +side across the lawn he was so obsessed with these conflicting emotions +that he said not a word, and hardly heard hers. The Janneys were +awaiting them on the balcony steps and after an exchange of good-nights +he turned back to the wood trail and went home. In his room he threw +himself on the sofa and lay there, his hands clasped behind his head, +staring at the ceiling. It was long after midnight when he went to bed, +and before he did so he put the cigar band in the jewel box with the +crystal lid that stood on the bureau. + +The Janney party trailed into the house, Sam stopping to lock the door +as the ladies moved to the stair foot. Suzanne went up with a curt +"good-night" to her mother, and no word or look for the Secretary. +Esther did not appear to notice it and, pausing with her hand on the +balustrade, proffered a request—could she have to-morrow, Saturday, to +go to town? She was very apologetic; her day off was Thursday and she +had no right to ask for another, but a friend had unexpectedly arrived +in the city, would be there for a very short time and she was extremely +anxious to see her. Mrs. Janney granted the favor with sleepy +good-nature and Miss Maitland, very grateful, passed up the stairs, the +old people dragging slowly in her wake, dropping remarks to one another +between yawns. + +A long hall crossed the upper floor, one side of which was given over to +the Price household. Here were Suzanne’s rooms, Chapman’s empty +habitation, and opposite them Bébita’s nurseries. The other side was +occupied on the front by Mrs. Janney and the Secretary with a line of +guest chambers across the passage. In a small room between his wife’s +and his stepdaughter’s Mr. Janney had ensconced himself. He liked the +compact space, also his own little balcony where he had his steamer +chair and could read and sun himself. As the place was much narrower +than the apartments on either side a short branch of hall connected it +with the main corridor. His door, at the end of this hall, commanded the +head of the stairway. + +Mr. Janney had a restless night; he knew he would have for he had taken +champagne and coffee and the combination was always disturbing. When he +heard the clocks strike twelve he resigned himself to a _nuit blanche_ +and lay wide awake listening to the queer sounds that a house gives out +in the silent hours. They were of all kinds, gurglings and creaks coming +out of the walls, a series of small imperative taps which seemed to +emerge from his chest of drawers, thrummings and thrillings as if winged +things were shut in the closets. + +Half-past twelve and one struck and he thought he was going off when he +heard a new sound that made him listen—the creaking of a door. He craned +up his old tousled head and gave ear, his eyes absently fixed on the +strips and spots of moonlight that lay white on the carpet. It was very +still, not a whisper, and then suddenly the dogs began to bark, a trail +of yaps and yelps that advanced across the lawn. Close to the house they +subsided, settling down into growls and conversational snufflings, and +he sank back on his pillow. But he was full of nerves, and the idea +suddenly occurred to him that Bébita might be sick, it might have been +the nursery door that had opened—Annie going to fetch Mrs. Janney. He’d +take a look to be sure—if anything was wrong there would be a light. + +He climbed out of bed and stole into the hall. No light but the moon, +throwing silvery slants across the passage and the stair-head, and +relieved, he tiptoed back. It was while he was noiselessly closing his +door that he heard something which made him stop, still as a statue, his +faculties on the qui vive, his eye glued to the crack—a footstep was +ascending the stairs. It was as soft as the fall of snow, so light, so +stealthy that no one, unless attentive as he was, would have caught it. +Yet it was there, now and then a muffled creak of the boards emphasizing +its advance. The corridor at the head of the stairs was as bright as day +and with his eye to the crack he waited, his heart beating high and +hard. + +Rising into the white wash of moonlight came Suzanne, moving with +careful softness, her eyes sending piercing glances up and down the +hall. Her expression was singular, slightly smiling, with something sly +in its sharpened cautiousness. As she rose into full view he saw that +she held her wrapper bunched against her waist with one hand and in the +other carried Bébita’s torch. He was so relieved that he made no move or +sound, but, as she disappeared in the direction of her room, softly +closed his door and went back to bed. + +She had evidently left something downstairs, a book probably—he could +not see what she had in the folds of the wrapper—and had gone to get it. +If she was wakeful it was a good sign, indicated the condition of +distressful unease her mother had hoped to create. Such alarm might lead +to a salutory reform, a change, if not of heart, of behavior. Comforted +by the thought, he turned on his pillow and at last slept. + + + + +CHAPTER V—ROBBERY IN HIGH PLACES + + +The next morning Mr. Janney had to read the papers to himself for Miss +Maitland went to town on the 8:45. He sat on the balcony and missed her, +for the Chicago murder had developed several new features and he had no +one to talk them over with. Suzanne, who never came down to breakfast, +appeared at twelve and said she was going to the Fairfax’s to lunch with +bridge afterward. Though she was not yet aware of Mrs. Janney’s +intention to once more come to her aid, her gloom and ill-humor had +disappeared. She looked bright, almost buoyant, her eyes showing a +lively gleam, her lips parting in ready smiles. She was going to the +beach before lunch, and left with a large knitting bag slung from her +arm, and a parasol tilted over her shoulder. It was not until she was +half way across the lawn that old Sam remembered her nocturnal +appearance which he had intended asking her about. + +She was hardly out of sight when Bébita and Annie came into view on the +drive, returning from the morning bath. Bébita had a trouble and raced +up the steps to tell him—she had lost her torch. She was quite +disconsolate over it; Annie had said they’d surely find it, but it +wasn’t anywhere, and she _knew_ she’d left it on the nursery table when +she went to bed. In the light of subsequent events Mr. Janney thought +his answer to the child had been dictated by Providence. Why he didn’t +say, "Your mother knows; she had it last night," he never could explain; +nor what prompted the words, "Ask your mother; she’s probably seen it +somewhere." Bébita accepted the suggestion with some hope and then, +hearing that her mother would not be home until the afternoon, fell into +momentary dejection. + +Mrs. Janney was to take her accustomed drive at four and her husband +said he would go with her. Some time before the hour he appeared on the +balcony, cool and calm, his poise restored after the trials of the +previous day and the disturbed night, and sat down to wait. Inside the +house his wife was busy. Several important papers had come on the +morning mail and these, with the opals, she decided to put in the safe +before starting. After they were stored in their shelves and the opals +back in their box she could not resist a look at her emeralds, of all +her material possessions the dearest. She lifted the purple velvet case +and opened it—the emeralds were not there. + +She stood motionless, experiencing an inner sense of upheaval, her heart +leaping and then sinking down, her body shaken by a tremor such as the +earth feels when rocked by a seismic throe. She tried to hold herself +steady and opened the other cases—the two pearl necklaces, the sapphire +rivière, the diamond and ruby tiara. As each revealed its emptiness her +hands began to tremble until, when she reached the white suède box of +the black pearl pendant, they shook so she could hardly find the clasp. +Everything was gone—a clean sweep had been made of the Janney jewels. + +Moving with a firm step, she went to the balcony. In the doorway she +came to a halt and said quietly to her husband: + +"Sam, my jewels have been stolen." + +Mr. Janney squared round, stared at her, and ejaculated in feeble +denial: + +"Oh _no_!" + +"Oh yes," she answered with the same note of grim control, "Come and +see." + +When he saw, his old veined hands shaking as they dropped the rifled +cases, he turned and blankly faced his wife who was watching him with a +level scrutiny. + +"Mary!" was all he could falter. "Mary, my _dear_!" + +"Last night," she nodded, "when we were out. The place was almost empty. +I’ll call the servants." + +She went to the foot of the stairs and called Elspeth, old Sam, +bewildered by this sudden catastrophe, emerging from the safe, as pale +and shaken as if he was the burglar. + +"Last night, of course last night," he murmured, trying to think. "They +were here at eight. I saw them, we saw them, anybody could have seen +them." + +Elspeth appeared on the stairs and came running down, Mrs. Janney’s +orders delivered like pistol shots upon her advance: + +"I’ve been robbed. The safe’s been opened and all the jewels are gone. +Go and call the servants, every one of them. Tell them to come here at +once." + +Elspeth knew enough to make no reply, and, with a terrified face, +scudded past her mistress to the kitchen. Mrs. Janney, her attention +attracted by sounds of distracted amazement from her husband, mobilized +him: + +"Go and get Miss Maitland. We’ll have to send for detectives. She can do +it—she doesn’t lose her head." + +Mr. Janney, too stunned to be anything but meekly obedient, trotted off +down the hall to Miss Maitland’s study, then stopped and came back: + +"She’s in town; she hasn’t got back yet." + +"Tch!" Mrs. Janney gave a sound of exasperation. "I’d forgotten it. How +maddening! You’ll have to do it. Go in there to the ’phone"—she +indicated the telephone closet at the end of the hall. "Call up the +Kissam Agency—that’s the best. We had them when the bell boy at Atlantic +City stole my sables. Get Kissam himself and tell him what’s happened +and to take hold at once—to come now, not to waste a minute. And don’t +you either—hurry!—" + +Mr. Janney hasted away and shut himself in the telephone closet, as the +servants, marshaled by Dixon and Elspeth, entered in a scared group. +They had been taking tea in their own dining room when Elspeth burst in +with the direful news. Eight of them were old employees—had been years +in Mrs. Janney’s service. Hannah, the cook, had been with her nearly as +long as Dixon; Isaac, the footman, was her nephew. Dixon’s large, +heavy-jowled face was stamped with aghast concern; the kitchen maid was +in tears. + +Mrs. Janney addressed them like what she was—a general in command of her +forces: + +"My jewels have been stolen. Some time last night the safe was opened +and they were taken. It is my order that every one of you stay in the +house, not holding communication with any one outside, until the police +have been here and made a thorough investigation. Your rooms and your +trunks will have to be searched and I expect you to submit to it +willingly with no grumbling." + +Dixon answered her: + +"It’s what we’d expect, Madam. Me and Isaac both know the combination +and we’d want to have our own characters cleared as much as we’d want +you to get back your valuables." + +Hannah spoke: + +"We’d welcome it, Mrs. Janney. There’s none of us wants any suspicion +restin’ on ’em." + +Delia, the housemaid with the inflamed eye, took it up. She was a +newcomer in the household, and in her fright her brogue acquired an +unaccustomed richness: + +"God knows I was in my room at nine, and not a move out of me till sivin +the nixt mornin’ and that’s to-day." + +Mr. Janney, issuing from the telephone closet, here interrupted them. He +addressed his wife: + +"It’s all right. I got Kissam himself. He’ll be here on the 5:30." + +She answered with a nod and was turning for further instructions to +Dixon when Suzanne entered from the balcony. Up to that moment Mr. +Janney had forgotten all about his nocturnal vision; now it came back +upon him with a shattering impact. + +He felt his knees turn to water and his heart sink down to inner, +unplumbed depths in his anatomy. He grasped at the back of a chair and +for once his manners deserted him, for he dropped into it though his +wife was standing. + +"What’s all this?" said Suzanne, coming to a halt, her glance shifting +from her mother to the group of solemn servants. She looked very pretty, +her face flushed, the blue tint of her linen dress harmonizing +graciously with her pink cheeks and corn-colored hair. + +Mrs. Janney explained. As she did so old Sam, his face as gray as his +beard, watched his stepdaughter with a furtive eye. Suzanne appeared +amazed, quite horror-stricken. She too sank into a chair, and listened, +open-mouthed, her feet thrust out before her, the high heels planted on +the rug. + +"Why, what an awful thing!" was her final comment. Then as if seized by +a sudden thought she turned on Dixon. + +"Were all the windows and doors locked last night?" + +"All on the lower floor, Mrs. Price. Me and Isaac went round them before +we started for the village, and there’s not a night—" + +Suzanne cut him off brusquely: + +"Then how could any one get in to do it?" + +There was a curious, surging movement among the servants, a mutter of +protest. Mr. Janney intervened: + +"You’d better let matters alone, Suzanne. Detectives are coming and +they’ll inquire into all that sort of thing." + +"I suppose I can ask a question if I like," she said pertly, then +suddenly; looking about the hall, "Where’s Miss Maitland?" + +"In town," said her mother. + +"Oh—she went in, did she? I thought her day off was Thursday." + +"She asked for to-day—what _does_ it matter?" Mrs. Janney was irritated +by these irrelevancies and turned to the servants: "Now I’ve instructed +you and for your own sakes obey what I’ve said. Not a man or woman +leaves the house till after the police have made their search. That +applies to the garage men and the gardeners. Dixon, you can tell them—" +she stopped, the crunch of motor wheels on the gravel had caught her +ear. "There’s some one coming. I’m not at home, Dixon." + +The servants huddled out to their own domain and Dixon, with a +resumption of his best hall-door manner, went to ward off the visitor. +But it was only Miss Maitland returning from town. She had several small +packages in her hands and looked pale and tired. + +The news that greeted her—Mrs. Janney was her informant—left her as +blankly amazed as it had the others. She was shocked, asked questions, +could hardly believe it. Old Sam found the opportunity a good one to +study Suzanne, who appeared extremely interested in the Secretary’s +remarks. Once, when Miss Maitland spoke of keeping some of her books and +the house-money in the safe, he saw his stepdaughter’s eyelids flutter +and droop over the bird-bright fixity of her glance. + +It was at this stage that Bébita ran into the hall and made a joyous +rush for her mother: + +"Oh, Mummy, I’ve _waited_ and _waited_ for you,"—she flung herself +against Suzanne’s side in soft collision. "I’ve lost my torch and I’ve +asked everybody and nobody’s seen it. Do _you_ know where it is?" + +Suzanne arched her eyebrows in playful surprise, then putting a finger +under the rounded chin, lifted her daughter’s face and kissed her, +softly, sweetly, tenderly. + +"Darling, I’m so sorry, but I haven’t seen it anywhere. If you can’t +find it I’ll buy you another." + + + + +CHAPTER VI—POOR MR. JANNEY! + + +The peace and aristocratic calm of the Janney household was disrupted. +Into its dignified quietude burnt an irruption of alien activity and the +great white light of publicity. Kissam with his minions came that +evening and reporters followed like bloodhounds on the scent. Scenes +were enacted similar to those Mr. Janney had read in novels and +witnessed at the theater, but which, in his most fevered imaginings, he +had never thought could transpire in his own home. It was unreal, like a +nightmare, a phantasmagoria of interviews with terrified servants, +trampings up and down stairs, strange men all over the place, reporters +on the steps, the telephone bell and the front door bell ringing +ceaselessly. Everybody was in a state of tense excitement except Mr. +Janney whose condition was that of still, frozen misery. There were +moments when he was almost sorry he’d married again. + +After introductory parleys with the heads of the house the searchlight +of inquiry was turned on the servants. Their movements on the fateful +night were subject of special attention. When Kissam elicited the fact +that they had not returned from the village till nearly midnight he fell +on it with ominous avidity. Dixon, however, had a satisfactory +explanation, which he offered with a martyred air of forbearance. Mr. +Price’s man, Willitts, had that morning come up from town to Cedar +Brook, the next station along the line. In the afternoon he had biked +over to see them and, hearing of their plan to visit the movies, had +arranged to meet them there. This he did, afterward taking them to the +Mermaid Ice Cream Parlors where he had treated them to supper. They had +left there about half past eleven, Willitts going back to Cedar Brook +and the rest of them walking home to Grasslands. + +From the women left in the house little was to be gathered. This was +unfortunate as the natural supposition was that the burglary had been +committed during the hours when they were alone there. Both, feeling +ill, had retired early, Delia at about half-past eight, going +immediately to bed and quickly falling asleep. Hannah was later; about +nine, she thought. It was very quiet, not a sound, except that after she +got to her room she heard the dogs barking. They made a great row at +first, running down across the lawn, then they quieted, "easing off with +sort of whines and yaps, like it was somebody they knew." She had not +bothered to look out of the window because she thought it was one of the +work people from the neighborhood, making a short cut through the +grounds. + +In the matter of the safe all was incomprehensible and mysterious. Five +people in the house knew the combination—Mr. and Mrs. Janney, Dixon and +Isaac and Miss Maitland. Mrs. Janney was as certain of the honesty of +her servants and her Secretary as she was of her own. She rather +resented the detectives’ close questioning of the latter. But Miss +Maitland showed no hesitation or annoyance, replying clearly and +promptly to everything they asked. She kept the house money and some of +her account books in the safe and on the second of the month—five days +before the robbery—had taken out such money as she had there to pay the +working people who did not receive checks. She managed the financial +side of the establishment, she explained, paying the wages and bills and +drawing the checks for Mrs. Janney’s signature. + +Questioned about her movements that afternoon, her answers showed the +same intelligent frankness. She had spent the two hours after lunch +altering the dress she was to wear that evening. As it was very warm in +her room she had taken part of it to her study on the ground floor. When +she had finished her work—about four—she had gone for a walk returning +just before the storm. After that she had retired to her room and stayed +there until she came down to go to Mr. Ferguson’s dinner. + +The safe and its surroundings were subjected to a minute inspection +which revealed nothing. Neither window had been tampered with, the locks +were intact, the sills unscratched, the floor showed no foot-mark. There +were no traces of finger prints either upon the door or the +metal-clamped boxes in which the jewel cases were kept. The mended chair +was just as Mrs. Janney remembered it, set between the safe and the +window, in the way of any one passing along the hall. + +It was on Sunday afternoon—twenty-four hours after the discovery—that +Dick Ferguson appeared with one of his gardeners, who had a story to +tell. On Friday night the man had been to a card party in the garage of +a neighboring estate and had come home late "across lots." His final +short cut had been through Grasslands, where he had passed round by the +back of the house. He thought the time would be on toward one-thirty. +Skirting the kitchen wing he had seen a light in a ground floor window, +a window which he was able to indicate. He described the light as not +very strong and white, not yellow like a lamp or candle. As he looked at +it he noticed that it diminished in brightness as if it was withdrawn, +moved away down a hall or into a room. He could see no figure, simply +the lit oblong of the window, with the pattern of a lace curtain over +it, and anyway he hadn’t noticed much, supposing it to be one of the +servants coming home late like himself. + +This settled the hour of the robbery. It had not been committed when the +place was almost deserted, but when all its occupants were housed and +sleeping. The window, pointed out by the man, was directly opposite the +safe door, the light as he described it could only have been made by an +electric lantern or torch, its gradual diminishment caused by its +removal into the recess of the safe. + +If before this Mr. Janney’s mental state was painful, it now became +agonized. He was afraid to be with the detectives for fear of what he +would hear, and he was afraid to leave them alone, for fear of what he +might miss. When Mrs. Janney conferred with Kissam he sat by her side, +swallowing on a dry throat, and trying to control the inner trembling +that attacked him every time the man opened his lips. He gave way to +secret, futile cursings of the jewels, distracted prayers that they +never might be found. For if they were, the theft might be traced to its +author—and _then_ what? It would be the end of his wife, her proud head +would be lowered forever, her strong heart broken. Sleep entirely +forsook him and the people who came to call treated him with a soothing +gentleness as if they thought he was dying. + +His misery reached a climax when something he remembered, and every one +else had forgotten, came to light. It was one day in the library when +Kissam asked Mrs. Janney if there had ever been any one else in the +house—a discharged employee or relation—who had known the combination. +Mrs. Janney said no and then recollected that Chapman Price did, he had +kept his tobacco in the safe as the damp spoiled it. Kissam showed no +interest—he knew Chapman Price was her son-in-law and was no longer an +inmate—and then suddenly asked what had been done with the written +combination. + +At that question Mr. Janney felt like a shipwrecked mariner deprived of +the spar to which he has been clinging. He saw his wife’s face charged +with aroused interest—she’d forgotten it, it was in Mr. Janney’s desk, +had always been kept there. They went to the desk and found it under a +sheaf of papers in a drawer that was unlocked. Kissam looked at it, felt +and studied the papers, then put it back in a silence that made Mr. +Janney feel sick. + +After that he was prepared for anything to happen, but nothing did. He +got some comfort from the papers, which assumed the robbery to have been +an "outside job"; no one in the house fitting the character of a +suspect. It was the work of experts, who had entered by the second +story, and were of that class of burglar known as "tumblers" Mr. Janney, +who had never heard of a "tumbler" save as a vessel from which to drink, +now learned that it was a crackman, who from a sensitive touch and long +training, could manipulate the locks and work out the combination. He +found himself thanking heaven that such men existed. + +When a week passed and nothing of moment came to the surface, the Janney +jewel robbery slipped back to the inside page, and, save in the environs +of Berkeley, ceased to occupy the public mind. Mr. Janney could once +more walk in his own grounds without fear of reporters leaping on him +from the shrubberies or emerging from behind statues and garden benches. +His tense state relaxed, he began to breathe freely, and, in this +restoration to the normal, he was able to think of what he ought to do. +Somehow, some day, he would have to face Suzanne with his knowledge and +get the jewels back. It would be a day of fearful reckoning; it was so +appalling to contemplate that he shrank from it even in thought. He said +he wasn’t strong enough yet, would work up to it, get some more sleep +and his nerves in better shape. And she might—there was always the +hope—she might get frightened and return them herself. + +So he rested in a sort of breathing spell between the first, grinding +agony and the formidably looming future. But it was not to last—events +were shaping to an end that he had never suspected and that came upon +him like a bolt from the blue. + +It happened one afternoon eight days after the robbery. Mrs. Janney and +Suzanne had gone for a drive and he was alone in the library, listlessly +going over the morning papers. His zest in the news had left him—the +Chicago murder offered no interest, the stabbed policeman in desperate +case from blood poisoning, his assailant still at large, could not +conjure away his dark anxieties. With his glasses dangling from his +finger, his eyes on the green sweep of the lawn, he was roused by a +knock on the door. It was Dixon announcing Mr. Kissam, who had walked up +from the village and wanted to see him. + +Kissam, with a brief phrase of greeting, closed the door and sat down. +Mr. Janney thought his manner, which was always hard and brusque, was +softened by a suggestion of confidence, something of intimacy as one who +speaks man to man. It made him nervous and his uneasiness was not +relieved in the least by the detective’s words. + +"I’m glad to find you alone, Mr. Janney. I ’phoned up and heard from +Dixon that the ladies were out and that’s why I came. I want to consult +you before I say anything to Mrs. Janney." + +"That’s quite right," said Mr. Janney, then added with a feeble attempt +at lightness, "Are you, as the children say, getting any warmer?" + +"We’re very warm. In fact I think we’ve almost got there. But it’s +rather a ticklish situation." + +Mr. Janney did not answer; he glanced at his shoes, then at the silver +on the desk. For the moment he was too perturbed to look at Kissam’s +shrewd, attentive face. + +"It’s so out of the ordinary run," the man went on, "and _so much_ is +involved that I decided not to move without first telling you. The +family being so prominent—" + +"The family!" Mr. Janney spoke before he thought, his limp hands +suddenly clenching on the arms of the chair. + +The detective’s eyes steadied on the gripped fingers. + +"What do you mean? Let me have it straight," said the old man huskily. + +Kissam put his hand in his hip pocket and drew out an electric torch +which he put on the desk. + +"This torch I myself found two days ago in a desk in Mrs. Price’s room. +It was pushed back in a drawer which was full of letters and papers. It +fits the description of the torch that was lost by Mrs. Price’s little +girl." + +Mr. Janney’s head sunk forward on his breast, and Kissam knew now that +his suspicions were correct and that the old man had known all along. He +was sorry for him: + +"Mrs. Price not being your daughter, Mr. Janney, I decided to come to +you. I suspected her after the second day and I’ll tell you why. I had a +private interview with that woman Elspeth, Mrs. Janney’s maid, and she +told me of a quarrel she had overheard between Mrs. Janney and her +daughter. The subject of the quarrel was money, Mrs. Price asking for a +large sum to meet certain debts and losses in the stock market which +Mrs. Janney refused to give her. That supplied the motive and gave me +the lead. The loss of the torch was also significant. The child was +confident—and children are very accurate—that she had left it on the +table in her nursery when she went to bed. The proximity of the two +rooms made the theft of the torch an easy matter. What puzzled me was +how Mrs. Price had gained access to the safe, but that was cleared up +when the written combination was found in your desk here; and finally I +ran across what I should call perfectly conclusive evidence in Mrs. +Price’s room. I don’t refer only to the torch, but to the fact that a +wrapper that was hanging in the back of one of the closets showed a +smudge of varnish on the skirt." + +Mr. Janney leaned forward over his clasped hands, feeling wan and +shriveled. + +"If your surmise is right," he said, "where has she put them?" + +"If!" echoed the other. "I don’t see any if about it. You can’t suspect +either of the men servants—reliable people of established character—nor +Miss Maitland. A girl in her position—even if she happened to be +dishonest, which I don’t for a moment think she is—wouldn’t tackle a job +as big as that. Come, Mr. Janney, we don’t need to dodge around the +stump. As soon as I’d spoken I saw you thought Mrs. Price had done it." + +The old man nodded and said sadly: + +"I did." + +"Would you mind telling me why you did?" + +There was nothing for it but to tell, and he told, the detective +suppressing a grin of triumph. It cleared up everything, was as +conclusive as if they’d seen her commit the act. + +"As for where she put them," he said, "she may have a hiding place in +the house that we haven’t discovered, or cached them outside. In matters +like this women sometimes show a remarkable cunning. I’ve looked up her +movements on the Saturday and it’s possible she hid them somewhere in +the woods. She left the house at twelve, carrying a silk work bag, +walked past Ferguson’s place and talked there with him in the garden for +about fifteen minutes, went on to the beach, sat there a while, and then +walked to the Fairfax house on the bluff, where she stayed to lunch, +coming back here about half-past four. She had ample opportunity during +that time and in the places she passed through to find a cache for +them." + +Mr. Janney raised a gray, pitiful face: + +"Mr. Kissam, if Mrs. Janney knew this it would kill her." + +Kissam gave back an understanding look: + +"That’s why I came to you." + +"Then it must stop here—with me." The old man spoke with a sudden, +fierce vehemence. "It _can’t_ go further. The girl’s been a torment and +a trouble for years. I won’t let her end by breaking her mother’s heart, +bringing her gray hairs with sorrow to the grave. Good God, I’d rather +say I did it myself." + +"There’s no need for that. We can let it fizzle out, die down +gradually." He gave a slight, sardonic smile. "I’ve happened on this +sort of thing before, Mr. Janney. The rich have their skeletons in the +closet, and I’ve helped to keep ’em there, shut in tight." + +"Then for heaven’s sake do it in this case—help me hide this skeleton. +Keep up the search for a while so that Mrs. Janney won’t suspect +anything; play your part. Mr. Kissam, if you’ll aid me in keeping this +dark there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to repay you." + +Kissam disclaimed all desire for reward. His professional pride was +justified; he had made good to his own satisfaction. And, as he had +said, the case presented no startling novelty to his seasoned +experience. Many times he had helped distracted families to suppress +ugly revelations, presented an impregnable front to the press, and seen, +with a cynical amusement, columns shrink to paragraphs and the public’s +curiosity fade to the vanishing point. He promised he would aid in the +slow quenching of the Janney sensation, gradually let it flicker out, +keep his men on the job for a while longer for Mrs. Janney’s benefit, +and finally let the matter decline to the status of an "unsolved +mystery." + +As to the restoration of the jewels he gave advice. Say nothing for a +time, sit quiet and give no sign. If she was as thoroughly scared as she +ought to be, she would probably return them—they would wake one fine +morning and find everything back in the safe. If, however, she tried to +realize on them it would be easy to trace them—he would be on the +watch—and then Mr. Janney could confront her with his knowledge and have +her under his thumb forever. + +Mr. Janney was extremely grateful—not at the prospect of having Suzanne +under his thumb, that was too complete a reversal of positions to be +comfortable—but at the detective’s kindly comprehension and aid. With +tears in his eyes he wrung Kissam’s hand and honored him by a personal +escort to the front door. + + + + +CHAPTER VII—CONCERNING DETECTIVES + + +Kissam kept his word and the interest in the Janney robbery began to +languish. Detectives still came and went, morning trains still disgorged +reporters, but it was not as it had been. The first, fine careless +rapture of the chase was over; nothing new was discovered, nothing old +developed. The house settled back to its methodical régime, the faces of +its inmates lost their looks of harassed distress. + +Mr. Janney, though much pacified, was not yet restored to his normal +poise. His wife was now the object of his secret attention, for he knew +her to be a very sharp and observant person, and the fear that she might +"catch on" haunted him. It was therefore very upsetting when she +remarked one morning at breakfast that "those men didn’t seem to be +doing much. They were just where they had been ten days ago." + +He tried to reassure her—it would be a long slow affair—didn’t she +remember the James case, where a year after the theft the jewels were +found under the skin of a ham hanging in the cellar? Mrs. Janney was not +appeased, she scoffed at the ham, and said the detectives were the +stupidest body of men in the country outside Congress. She was going to +offer a reward, ten thousand dollars—and then she muttered something +about "taking a hand herself." In answer to Mr. Janney’s alarmed +questions she quieted down, laughed, and said she didn’t mean anything. + +She did, however, and had Mr. Janney known it wakeful nights would again +have been his portion. But she had no intention of telling him. She had +seen that he was worn out, a mere bundle of nerves, and what she +intended to do would be done without his knowledge or connivance. This +was to start a private inquiry of her own. The written combination, +loose in an unlocked drawer, had influenced her; it was possible some +one in the house had found it. She felt that she owed it to her +dependents and herself to make sure. And the best way to do this was to +have a detective on the spot—but a detective whose profession would be +unknown. Fortunately the plan was workable; there was a vacancy in the +household staff. For the past month she had been advocating the +engagement of a nursery governess for Bébita. + +Two days after her slip to Mr. Janney an opportunity came for broaching +the subject. They were at lunch when Suzanne announced that she intended +going to town the next morning. It was about Bébita—the child’s eyes, +which had troubled her in the spring, were again inflamed and she had +complained of pain in them. Suzanne wanted to consult the oculist; she +hoped a prescription would be sufficient, but of course if he insisted +on seeing the child she would have to be taken in for an examination. + +Mrs. Janney thought it the right thing to do and said she would +accompany her daughter. Suzanne, who was eating her lunch, paused with +suspended fork and sidelong eye;—why was that necessary, she was +perfectly competent to attend to the matter. Mrs. Janney agreed and said +she was going on another errand—to see about the nursery governess they +had spoken of so often. It was time something was done, Bébita was +running wild, forgetting all she had learned last winter. Mrs. Janney +had heard of several women who might answer and would spend the day +looking them up and interviewing them. Suzanne returned to her food. +"Oh, very well, it might be a good thing, only please get some one young +and cheerful who didn’t put on airs and want to be a member of the +family." + +One of Suzanne’s fads was a fear of the Pennsylvania Tunnel. Whether it +was a pose or genuine she absolutely refused to go through it, declaring +that on her one trip she had nearly died of fright and the pressure on +her ears. Since that alarming experience she always went to the city +either by the old Long Island Ferry route, or by motor across the +Queensborough Bridge. + +It being a fine morning they decided to drive in—about an hour’s run—and +at ten they started forth. They chatted amicably, for Suzanne, since the +robbery and the knowledge that her debts were paid, had been unusually +gay and good-humored. They separated at Altman’s, Mrs. Janney keeping +the motor, Suzanne taking a taxi. At four they would meet at a tea room +and drive home together. + +Mrs. Janney’s first point of call was a strange place in which to look +for a nursery governess. It was the office of Whitney & Whitney, her +lawyers, far downtown near Wall Street. She was at once conducted into +Mr. Whitney’s sanctum, for besides being an important client she was a +personal friend. He moved forward to meet her—a large, slightly stooped, +heavily built man with a shock of thick gray hair, and eyes, singularly +clear and piercing, overshadowed by bushy brows. His son, George, was +sent for, and after greetings, jolly and intimate, they settled down to +talk over Mrs. Janney’s business. + +She told them the situation and her needs—could _they_ find the sort of +person she wanted. She knew they employed detectives of all sorts and +Kissam’s men had been so lacking in energy and so stupid that she wanted +no more of that kind. She had to have a woman of whose character they +were assured, and sufficiently presentable to pass muster with the +master and the servants. Mr. Whitney gave a look at his son and they +exchanged a smile. + +"Go and see if you can get her on the wire, George," he said, "and if +she’s willing tell her to come down right now." Then as the young man +left the room he turned to Mrs. Janney. "I know the very person, the +best in New York, if she’ll undertake it." + +"Some one who’s thoroughly reliable and can fit into the place?" + +"My dear friend, she’s as reliable as you are and that’s saying a good +deal. As to fitting in, leave that to her. In her natural state there +are still some rough edges, but when she’s playing a part they don’t +show. She’s smart enough to hide them." + +"Who is she—a detective?" + +"Not a real one, not a professional. She was a telephone girl and then +she made a good marriage—fellow named Babbitts, star reporter on the +_Despatch_. She’s in love and happy and prosperous, but now and again +she’ll do work for us. It’s partly for old sakes’ sake and partly +because she has the passion of the artist—can’t resist if the call comes +to her. She came to our notice during the Hesketh case—did some of the +cleverest work I ever saw and got Reddy out of prison. The Reddys are +among her best friends—can’t do too much for her." + +Mrs. Janney, who knew the beautiful Mrs. Reddy, was impressed. + +"Do you think she’ll come?" she asked anxiously. + +He gave her a meaning look and nodded; + +"Yes. It’s an unusually interesting case." + +Half an hour later Mrs. Janney met Molly Morgenthau Babbitts and laid +the situation before her. She found the much-vaunted young woman, a +pretty, slender girl, with crisply curly black hair, honest brown eyes, +and a pleasantly simple manner. Mrs. Janney liked what she said and +liked her. There was no doubt about her intelligence and as to rousing +any suspicions in the household—she would have deceived Mr. Janney—she +even would have deceived Dixon. As the case was outlined she could not +hide her kindling interest and, when she agreed to undertake the work, +Mrs. Janney felt that the nursery governess idea had been an +inspiration. The interview ended with practical details: Mrs. Babbitts +would make her reports to the Whitneys, who would figure as her +employers and would hand on her findings to Mrs. Janney. She would +arrive by the twelve-thirty train on the following day and be known at +Grasslands as Miss Rodgers. As they were separating she asked if there +was a branch telephone on the upper floor and, being told that there was +in an alcove off the main hall, requested that her room might be near it +as the telephone played an important part in her work. + +Suzanne’s course had a curious resemblance to her mother’s, though her +plan of procedure was different. + +From the day after the robbery she had developed an interest in the +telephone "Red Book." She had taken it to her room and turning to the +D’s studied the list of detective agencies. After much comparison and +cogitation she had copied down the name of one Horace Larkin, who +appeared to be in business by himself and whose office was in a central +and accessible part of the city. + +After she had parted from her mother she went to a department store, +shut herself in a telephone booth, and called up Mr. Larkin. A masculine +voice, that of Larkin himself, had answered, and explaining her desire +to see him on important business, he had made an appointment to meet her +that afternoon at the Janney house on Fifth Avenue. + +This was an excellent place for Suzanne’s purpose, closed for the +summer, its porch boarded up, its blue-blinded windows proclaiming its +desertion. An ancient caretaker occupied the basement with her niece, +Aggie McGee, to help and be company. Mrs. Janney never went there, but +now and then Suzanne did, generally on a quest for some needed garment, +so that her presence in the house was in no way remarkable. + +The appointment was for two and, after telling Aggie McGee that a +gentleman would call and to show him into the reception room, she +retired to the long Louis Quinze salon and threw herself on a sofa. She +was a little scared at what she had planned but she did not let her +uneasiness interfere with her intention, for, her mind once set on a +goal, she was as determined as her mother. Stretched comfortably on the +sofa, her glance traveling over the covered walls, the chandelier, a +misshapen bulging whiteness below the frescoed ceiling, she carefully +thought out what she would say to Mr. Larkin. + +A ring of the bell brought her to a sitting position, her hands pushing +in loosened hairpins. She waited listening, heard the opening and +closing of doors and then Aggie McGee’s head appeared between the +shrouded portières and announced, "The gentleman to see you, ma’am." + +Her first impression of him was as a tall, broad-shouldered shape, +detailless against the light of the window. Then, as she sunk into a +chair, motioning him to one opposite, a nearer view showed him as a +fine-looking man, on to forty, with a fresh-colored, rounded face, its +expression smilingly good-humored. After the unkempt and slouchy +detectives she had seen at Grasslands his appearance, natty, smart, +almost that of a man of fashion, surprised and pleased her. She had an +instinctive distaste for all ungroomed and ill-dressed people and seeing +him so like the members of her own world, she felt a rising confidence +and reassurance. Also his manners were good, respectful, businesslike. +The one thing about him that suggested the wily sleuth were his eyes, +very light colored in his ruddy face, small, shrewd and piercing. + +He came to the matter of the moment without any preamble. Yes, he knew +of the robbery and knew who she was; he supposed she had called him up +to consult him about the case. + +"Of course, Mr. Larkin," she said, "that’s what I wanted. But before I +say anything it must be understood between us that this—er—sending for +you—is entirely my affair. I want to employ you myself independently of +the others." + +He nodded, showing no surprise; + +"You want to put your own detective on the case." + +"Exactly. You’re to be employed by me but no one must know you are or +know what you’re doing." + +He smothered a smile and said: + +"I see." + +"I don’t think the men that are working over it now are very clever or +interested. They just poke about and ask the same questions over and +over. The way they’re going I should say we’d never get anything back. +So I decided I’d start an inquiry of my own and in a direction no one +else had thought of." + +Mr. Larkin gave a slight movement an almost imperceptible straightening +up of his body: + +"Do you mean that you suspect some one?" + +Suzanne looked at the arm of her chair and then smoothed its linen cover +with delicate finger tips. A very slight color deepened the artificial +rose of her cheek. + +"I’m afraid I do," she murmured. + +"Afraid?" + +She nodded, closing her eyes with the movement. She had the appearance +of a person distressed but resolute. + +"I can’t help suspecting some one that I don’t like to suspect. And +that’s why I want your assistance." + +"I don’t quite understand, Mrs. Price." + +"_This_ is the explanation. If it were known that this person was guilty +it would ruin and destroy them. My idea is to be sure that they did +it—have evidence—and then tell my mother. We could keep quiet about it, +get the jewels back and not have the thief disgraced and sent to jail." + +"Oh, I see. You want to face the party with a knowledge of their guilt, +have them restore the jewels, and let the matter drop." + +"Precisely. And I don’t want to say anything until I’m sure, can come +out with everything all clear and proved. That’s _where_ I expect you to +help, put things together, find out, work up the case." + +"Who is the person?" + +Her color burned to a deep flush; she leaned toward him, urgent, almost +pleading: + +"Mr. Larkin, I hardly like to say it even to you, but I must. It’s my +mother’s secretary, Miss Maitland." + +He looked stolidly unmoved: + +"She lives in the house?" + +"Yes, for over a year now. My mother thinks everything of her, wouldn’t +believe it unless it was proved past a doubt." + +"What are your reasons for suspecting her?" + +Suzanne was silent for a moment moving her glance from him to the +window. Mr. Larkin had a good chance to look at her and took it. He +noticed the feverish color, the line between the brows, the tightened +muscles under the thin cheeks. He made a mental note of the fact that +she was agitated. + +"Well that night, the night of July the seventh," she said in a low +voice, "I was wakeful. I often am, I’ve always been a nervous, restless +sort of person. About half past one I thought I heard a noise—some one +on the stairs—and I got up and looked out of my door. I can see the head +of the stairs from there, and as it was very bright moonlight any one +coming up would be perfectly plain—I couldn’t make a mistake—what I saw +was Miss Maitland. She was going very carefully, tiptoeing along as if +she was trying to make no noise. At the top she turned and went down the +passage to her own room which is just beyond my mother’s." + +She paused and shot a tentative look at him. He met it, teetered his +head in quiet comprehension and murmured: + +"She didn’t see you?" + +"Oh no, she was not looking that way. And I didn’t say anything or think +anything then—thought she’d gone downstairs for something she’d +forgotten. The next day it had passed out of my mind; it wasn’t until I +heard that the jewels were gone that it came back and then I was too +shocked to say a word. It all came upon me in a minute—I remembered how +I’d seen her and remembered that she knew the combination of the safe." + +"Oh," said Mr. Larkin, "she knew that, did she?" + +"Yes, she keeps her account books and money in there, things she uses in +her work. You see she’s been thoroughly trusted—never looked upon as +anything but perfectly honest and reliable." + +"Then she’s filled her position to Mrs. Janney’s satisfaction?" + +"Entirely. Of course we really don’t know very much about her. She was +highly recommended when she came, but people in her position if they do +their work well—one doesn’t bother much about them." + +"Have you noticed anything in her conduct or manner of life lately that +could—er—have any connection with or throw any light on such an action?" + +Suzanne pondered for a moment then said: + +"No—she’s always been about the same. She’s gone into the city more this +summer than she did last year, on her holidays, I mean. And—oh yes, this +may be important—that night, when we came home from dinner, she asked my +mother if she could have the following day—Saturday—in town. Mrs. Janney +said she might and she went in before any of the family were up." + +"Um," murmured Mr. Larkin and then fell into a silence in which he +appeared to be digesting this last item. When he spoke again it was to +propound a question that ruffled Suzanne’s composure and caused her blue +eyes to give out a sudden spark: + +"Do you happen to know if she has any admirer—lover or fiancé or +anything of that sort?" + +"I know nothing whatever about it, but I should say _not_. Certainly I +never heard of such a person. I never saw any man in the least attracted +by her and I should imagine she was a girl who had no charm for the +other sex." + +Mr. Larkin stirred in a slow, large way and said: + +"Such a robbery is a pretty big thing for a girl like that to attempt. +She must know—any one would—that jewels like Mrs. Janney’s are hard to +dispose of without detection." + +Suzanne shrugged, her tone showing an edge of irritation: + +"That may be the case, I suppose it is. But couldn’t she have been +employed by some one—aren’t there gangs who put people on the spot to +rob for them?" + +"Certainly there are. And that would be the most plausible explanation. +Not necessarily a gang, however, an individual might be behind her. At +this stage, knowing what I do, that would be my idea. But, of course, I +can say nothing until I’m better informed. What I’ll do now will be to +look up her record and then I think I’ll take a run down to Berkeley and +see if I can pick up anything there." + +Suzanne looked uneasy: + +"But you’ll be careful, and not let any one guess what you’re doing or +that you have any business with me?" + +He smiled openly at that: + +"Mrs. Price, you can trust me. This is not my first case." + +After that there was talk of financial arrangements and future plans. +Mr. Larkin thought he would come out to Berkeley in a day or two and +take a lodging in the village. When he had anything of moment to impart +he would drop a note to Mrs. Price and she could designate a rendezvous. +They parted amicably, Suzanne feeling that she had found the right man +and Mr. Larkin secretly elated, for this was the first case of real +magnitude that had come his way. + +At the appointed time Suzanne met Mrs. Janney at the tea room and on the +way home they exchanged their news. The nursery governess had been +found, approved and engaged, and the oculist had said to go on with the +lotion and if Bébita’s eyes did not improve to bring her in to see him. +Both ladies agreed that their labors had exhausted them, but each looked +unusually vivacious and mettlesome. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII—MOLLY’S STORY + + +I’ve been asked to tell the part of this story in which I figure. I’ve +done that kind of work before, so I’m not as shy as I was that first +time, and since then I’ve studied some, and come up against fine people, +and I’m older—twenty-seven on my last birthday. But as I said then, so +I’ll say now—don’t expect any stylish writing from me. At the +switchboard there’s still ginger in me, but with the pen I’m one of the +"also rans." + +Fortunately for me, I was always a good one to throw a bluff and, having +made a few excursions into the halls of the rich and great, I felt I +could be safely featured as a nursery governess. She belongs in the +layer between the top and bottom and doesn’t mix with either. I wouldn’t +have to play down to the kitchen standards or up to the parlor ones, +just move along, sort of lonesome, in the neutral ground between. As for +teaching the child, I knew I could do that as well as the girls who are +marking time until they marry, or the decayed ladies who employ their +declining years and intellects that way. + +It didn’t seem to me hard to size up the family. Mrs. Janney was the +head of it, the middle and both ends—a real queen who didn’t need a +crown or a throne to make people bow the knee. Mr. Janney was a good, +kind old gentleman who was too law-abiding to get rich any way but the +way he did. Mrs. Price wasn’t up to their measure—an only child, born +with a silver lining. She was one of those slimpsy, thin women that a +man would be afraid to hug for fear she’d crack in his arms or snap in +the middle. She was very cordial and pleasant to me and I will say she +was fond of her little girl. + +When I came to the servants I couldn’t see but what every one of them +registered honesty. If it had been printed on their foreheads with a +rubber stamp it couldn’t have been plainer. There were only two new ones +in the outfit—girls, one of them my chambermaid—and no one, not even a +sleuth desperate for glory, could have considered them. Outside there +were gardeners and chauffeurs—in all there were twenty-one people +employed—but it was the same with them. They were a decent, well-paid +lot, the garage men and head gardener living on the place, the laborers +lodged in the village. + +The one person my eye lingered on was Miss Maitland the Secretary. Not +that there was anything suspicious about her, but that she wasn’t as +simple and easy to see into as the others. She was a handsome girl, tall +and well made, sticking close to her job and not having much to do with +any one. Her study was just under the day nursery where we had lessons +and had its own door on to the piazza. When she wasn’t at work, she’d +either sit there reading or go off walking by herself and there was +something solitary and serious about her that interested me. The nursery +window was a good look-out, commanding the lawns and garden and with the +tennis court to one side. After lessons I’d let the blinds down and coil +up there on a cushion, and I saw her several times coming in and going +out, always alone, and always looking thoughtful and depressed. + +To get any information about her I had to be very careful for Mrs. +Janney thought the world of her, but I managed to worm out some facts, +though nothing of any importance. She had come to Mrs. Janney from a +friend who had had her as secretary for two years. She was entirely +dependent on her work for her living, was an orphan, and had no +followers. The only thing the least degree out of line was that several +times during the spring and the early summer she had asked for more days +and afternoons off than formerly. Mrs. Janney didn’t seem to think +anything of this and I didn’t either. The girl—settled down in her place +and knowing it secure—was slackening up on her first speed. + +There were a lot of people coming and going in the house—oftenest, Mr. +Richard Ferguson. I’d heard of him—everybody has—millions, unmarried, +and so forth and so on. I hadn’t been there thirty-six hours before I +saw that Mrs. Price had an eye for him. That’s putting it in a +considerate, refined way. If I was the cat some women are, I’d say she +was camped on his trail, with her lassoo ready in her hand. Of course +she’d work it the way ladies do, very genteel, pretend to be lazy if he +wanted to play tennis and when he was off for a swim wonder if she had +the energy to walk to the beach. But she always got there; every time, +rain or shine, she’d be awake at the switch. I didn’t know whether he +responded—you couldn’t tell. He was the kind who was jolly and affable +to everybody; even if he was a plutocrat you had to like him. + +I had a good deal of time to myself—lessons only lasted two hours—and I +roamed round the neighborhood studying it. The second afternoon I went +into the woods, where there’s a short-cut that goes past Council Oaks to +the beach. Off the path, branching to the right, I found two smaller +trails both leading to the same place—a pond, surrounded by trees, and +with a wharf, a rustic bench, and two bathing houses, where the trails +ended. In my room that evening I asked Ellen, my chambermaid, about the +pond and she told me it was called Little Fresh and that the bathing +houses and wharf had been built by the former owner of Grasslands. But +the first year of Mrs. Janney’s occupation a boy from the village had +been drowned there, since when Mrs. Janney had forbidden any one to go +near or bathe in Little Fresh. She had put up trespassing signs and +locked the bath houses, and no one ever went there now, because, anyway +if you didn’t go in and get drowned, folks said you might catch malaria. + +A few days after that Bébita asked me to go into the woods with her and +look for lady-slippers; the kitchen maid had found two and Bébita had to +see if there weren’t any left for her. Everybody said it was too late +for them, but that didn’t faze Bébita who had the kitchen maid’s word +for it and was set upon going. + +The woods were lovely, all green and shimmery with sunlight. We took the +trail I’ve spoken of, I strolling along the path, and Bébita hunting +about in the underbrush for the flowers. I was some little distance +ahead of her when I saw a figure moving behind the screen of trees +toward the right. I could only catch it in broken bits through the +leaves, hear the footsteps soft on the moss, and I didn’t know whether +it was a man or a woman. Then it came into view, out of the trail that +led to Little Fresh Pond, and I saw it was a man, who stopped short at +the sight of me. + +He was good-looking, the dark kind, naturally brown, and sunburned on +top of it until he was as swarthy as an Indian, the little mustache on +his upper lip as black as if it was painted on with ink. Now I’m not one +that thinks men ought to be stunned by my beauty, but also I don’t +expect to be stared at as if the sight of me was an unpleasant shock. +And that’s the way that piratical guy acted, standing rooted, glaring +angry from under his eyebrows. + +I was going to pass on haughty, when Bébita’s voice came from behind in +a joyful cry of "Popsy." She rushed by me, her arms spread out, and +fairly jumped at him. The ugly look went from his face as if you’d wiped +it off with a sponge, and the one that took its place made him another +man. He caught her up and held her against him, and she locked her feet +behind his waist and her hands behind his neck swinging off from him and +laughing out: + +"Oh, Popsy, I was looking for lady-slippers and I found _you_." + +"Well," he said, gazing at her like he couldn’t look enough, "would you +rather have found a lady-slipper?" + +She hugged up against him, awful sweet and cunning. + +"Oh, Popsy, that’s a joke. I like you better than all the lady-slippers +in the world. Where have you been?" + +"Over on the bluff, calling on some people. I’m taking a short cut +through the woods." + +"Where are you going now?" + +"To Cedar Brook. My car’s out there on the road at the end of the path." + +I knew Bébita had been told not to speak of her father. I’d heard it +from Annie and Mrs. Janney had cautioned me, if she asked any questions, +to say that he had gone away and was not coming back. Children are +queer, take in more than you think, and I believe the little thing felt +something of the tragedy of it. Anyway she said nothing more on that +subject, but loosing one hand, waved it at me. + +"That’s my new governess, Miss Rogers. I’m studying lessons with her." + +He looked at me, and having no free hand, just nodded. Though his +expression wasn’t as unfriendly as it had been, it didn’t suggest any +desire to know me better. He turned back to Bébita. + +"Dearie, you’ll have to let go for I must jog along. I’ve a date to play +tennis at Cedar Brook and I’m late now." + +He kissed her and she loosened her hold sliding through his arms to the +ground. Then with a few last words of good-by he swung off down the +path. Bébita looked after him till the trees hid him, gave a sigh, and +without a word pushed her little hand into mine and walked along beside +me. She seemed sobered for a while, then picked up heart, began to look +about her, and was soon back at her hunt for the flowers. + +I was nearing the second path to Little Fresh, when again I saw a figure +coming behind the trees. This time it showed in a moving pattern of +lilac and the sight made me brisk up for I’d seen Miss Maitland that +morning in a lilac linen dress. I quickened my step until I came to a +turning from which I could look up the branch trail, and sure enough, +there she was, walking very lightly and spying out ahead. At the sight +of me she too stopped and looked annoyed. But women are a good deal +quicker than men—in a minute the look was gone and she was all smiles of +welcome. + +"Oh, Miss Rogers, and Bébita too! How nice to meet you. Are you going to +the beach?" + +Bébita explained our quest and said she was going to give it up—there +wasn’t a single lady-slipper left. + +Miss Maitland’s smile was kind and consoling: + +"I could have told you that. They’re gone for this year." + +"Have _you_ been looking for them?" Bébita asked. + +No, Miss Maitland had been to the beach for a bath, and as the closed +season for lady-slippers had begun, we turned back, Bébita and the +Secretary in front, I meekly following. In answer to the child’s +questions Miss Maitland said she had taken a long swim, out beyond the +raft. + +Suddenly Bébita popped out with: + +"Did you see my Daddy?" + +There was a slight pause before she answered; when she did her voice was +full of surprise: + +"Mr. Price! Was he on the beach?" + +"No, in the woods. We met him. He was taking a short cut." + +Miss Maitland said she hadn’t seen him, that he must have been some +distance in front of her, and changed the subject. + +While they were talking I was thinking and absently looking at her back. +They’d both come out of the branch trails that led to Little Fresh; they +had taken different paths and not come at the same time; they had each +got a jar when they saw me. As I thought, my eyes went wandering over +her back and finally stopped at the nape of her neck. The hair was drawn +up from it and hidden under her hat. I could see the roots and the +little curly locks that drooped down against the white skin. And +suddenly I noticed something—they were perfectly dry, not a damp spot, +not a wet hair. The best bathing cap in the world couldn’t keep the +water out like that. She had not been bathing at all, she had been with +Chapman Price at Little Fresh Pond. And they wanted no one to know; were +sufficiently anxious to lie about it. + +The next day in a conference with Mrs. Janney, I asked her if Mr. Price +had ever shown any interest in Miss Maitland. She was amazed, as shocked +as if I’d asked if Mr. Janney had ever been in love with the cook. +Chapman Price had taken no more notice of Miss Maitland than common +politeness demanded, in fact, she thought that of late he had rather +shunned her. She was curious to know why I asked such a question, and +when I said I had to ask any and every sort of question or she’d be +paying a detective’s salary to a nursery governess, she saw the sense of +it and quieted down. + +That was more than I did. The way things were opening up, I was getting +that small, inner thrill, that feeling like your nerves are tingling +that comes to me when the darkness begins to break. I didn’t see much, +just the first, faint glimmer, but it was the right kind. + +Two days later a thing happened that changed the glimmer to a wide +bright ray. It was this way: + +In the afternoon the family, unless they had a party of their own, were +always out. The only person who stayed around was Miss Maitland, +sometimes working over her books, sometimes sitting about sewing or +reading. That day—about four—I’d seen her as I passed the study window +writing at her desk. I’d gone on into the big central hall where I +wasn’t supposed to belong, but feeling safe with everybody scattered, I +thought I’d make myself comfortable and take a look at the morning +papers. I’d just cuddled down in the corner of the sofa with my favorite +daily when I heard the telephone ring. + +Now the bell of the telephone is to me like the trumpet to the old war +horse. And hearing it that way, tingling in the quiet of the big, +deserted house, I got a flash that any one wanting to talk to Miss +Maitland and knowing the habits of the family would choose that hour. +There was a ’phone in the lower story—in a closet at the end of the +hall—and the extension one was upstairs in a sort of curtained recess +off the main corridor just outside my door. I rose off the sofa as if +lifted by a charge of dynamite and slid for the stairs. As I sprinted up +I heard the door of Miss Maitland’s study open. + +The upper hall was deserted and I dashed noiseless into that alcove +place, one hand lifting off the receiver as soft as a feather, the other +pressed against my mouth to smother the sound of my breathing. On the +floor below Esther Maitland had just connected; I got her first +sentence, quiet and clear as if she was in the room with me: + +"Yes. This is Grasslands." + +A man’s voice answered: + +"That you, Esther?" + +I could tell she recognized it, for instantly hers changed, showed fear +and a sort of pleading: + +"Oh, why do you call me up here? I told you not to." + +"My dear girl, it’s all right—I know they’re all out at this hour." + +"The servants—I’m afraid of them—and there’s a new nursery governess +come." + +"I know. I met her in the woods that day. Did you?" + +"Of course I did. How could I help it? I said I’d been bathing. We +mustn’t go there again—it’s much better to write." + +The man gave a laugh that was good-humored and easy: + +"Don’t take it so hard. There’s not the slightest need to be worried. I +called you up to say everything was O. K." + +Her answer came with a deep, sighing breath: + +"It may be now—but how can we tell? The first excitement’s dying down +but that doesn’t mean they’re not doing anything. Don’t think for a +moment, because it’s worked right so far, that we’re out of the woods." + +"I’m wise to all that, I know them better than you do. And the fellow +that knows has got it all over the fellow that doesn’t. Watchful +waiting—that’s our motto." + +"Very well, then _let_ it be watchful. And don’t call me up unless it’s +urgent. I can see you in town when I go in. I won’t talk any more. +Good-by." + +I heard the stillness of a dead wire and then before I let myself think, +flew into my room, found a pad and pencil and wrote it down word for +word. + + + + +CHAPTER IX—GOOD HUNTING IN BERKELEY + + +Two days after his interview with Suzanne, Mr. Larkin came to Berkeley +and took a room at the Berkeley Arms. He registered as Henry Childs, and +described himself to the clerk as a plumber, who, having had a +prosperous year, was looking for a bit of land upon which to build a +bungalow. + +Berkeley was much too exclusive to permit a hotel within its exclusive +limits and the Berkeley Arms was allowed to exist in a small, subdued +way as a convenience. It was an unassuming, gray-shingled building, +withdrawn behind a lilac hedge, and too near the station to mar the +smart and shining elegance of the main street. In it dwelt the +shop-keepers who plied a temporary summer trade in the village, and the +chauffeurs of the less wealthy cottagers. Here the detective heard much +talk of the Janney robbery, and, after he had extended his field of +observation to the post-office lobby and Bennett’s drug store, Berkeley +had no secrets from him. + +The public mind was still occupied with all that pertained to +Grasslands. He heard of the separation of the Prices, the scene _he_ had +made on leaving, and that _she_ hadn’t treated him right. Berkeley was +on Chapman’s side, said she wanted to get rid of him to marry Ferguson. +It was hoped that Ferguson—highly esteemed—wasn’t going to fall for it; +but you couldn’t tell, the best men made mistakes. Gossips, who +professed an intimacy with the Grasslands kitchens, hinted that Ferguson +was "taken with" the secretary. But Berkeley, fattened by prosperity to +a gross snobbishness, rejected the idea as vulgar and unfitting. + +All this had its value for Mr. Larkin, but it was by accident that he +acquired the most illuminating piece of intelligence. Late one afternoon +he wandered forth into a road that threaded the woods near Grasslands. +The day being warm, the way dusty, he seated himself on a rock to cool +off and ponder. While there, concealed by the surrounding trees, he had +seen two small boys padding toward him down the road, their heads +together in animated debate. Unaware of his presence their voices were +loud and his listening ear caught interesting matter. They had been in +the forbidden area of Grasslands, had gone to Little Fresh for a bathe, +and had almost been caught in the act by a lady and gentleman. + +Mr. Larkin made his presence known, and a dime passed into each grubby +palm won their confidence. + +They were on the wharf slipping off their clothes when they heard +footsteps and had only time to rush to cover in the underbrush when Mr. +Chapman Price appeared. He waited round a bit and then Miss Maitland +came and they sat on the bench and talked. The boys had not been able to +hear what they said, but that it was serious they gathered from Mr. +Price’s manner and the fact that Miss Maitland had cried for a spell. +Mr. Price went away first, and as he was going he said loud, standing in +the path, "Take the upper trail and if you meet anybody say you’ve been +at the beach bathing." Then he’d gone and Miss Maitland had waited a +while, and then she’d gone too, by the upper trail, the way he’d said. + +Mr. Larkin had been very sympathetic and friendly, swore he’d keep his +mouth shut, and cautioned the boys to do the same, for he’d heard that +Mrs. Janney wouldn’t stand for any one bathing in Little Fresh and you +couldn’t tell but what she might have them arrested. + +The next day he had a meeting with Suzanne in a summer-house on the +Setons’ grounds, the Setons being in California for the season. He gave +his report of Miss Maitland’s career—entirely worthy and respectable—and +then asked the question Molly had asked Mrs. Janney: had Mr. Price ever +exhibited any special interest in the secretary? Mrs. Price’s surprise +and denial were as genuine and emphatic as her mother’s had been and Mr. +Larkin arrived at the same conclusion as Molly—here started the path +that led to the heart of the maze. + +He did not say this to Mrs. Price. What he did say was that he would +leave Berkeley shortly and when he had anything of importance to tell +make an appointment with her by letter. It was not necessary to inform +her that his next move would be to Cedar Brook where he had heard that +Chapman Price spent a good deal of his time. + +Cedar Brook, six miles above Berkeley on the main line, had none of the +prestige of its aristocratic neighbor. It was in the process of +development, new houses rising round its outskirts, fields being turned +into lawns. Mr. Larkin took a room in a clapboarded cottage which stared +at other clapboarded cottages through the foliage of locust trees. +Announcing his intention of buying a piece of land, he was soon an +object of general attention and added to his store of knowledge. He +heard a good deal of Chapman Price, who was there off and on with the +Hartleys, and of his man Willitts. It was understood that Willitts was +staying with Price till he got a job, and, as the Hartley house was +small, lodged in the village; in fact, Mr. Larkin learned to his +satisfaction, was living in one of the clapboarded cottages close to his +own. + +Professing a desire to study the environs of Cedar Brook he hired a +wheel, and the third afternoon of his stay peddled out into the country. +It was while passing the private hedge of a large estate, that he came +upon a young man engaged over a disabled bicycle. + +The day was warm, the salt air of the Sound shut out by forest and hill, +the road bathed in a hot glow of sun. The man had taken off his coat, +and, as Mr. Larkin drew near, looked up displaying a smooth-shaven, rosy +face, beaded with perspiration. + +Mr. Larkin, being by nature and profession curious, drew up and made +friendly inquiries. The man answered them, explained the nature of the +damage, his speech marked by the crisp, clipped enunciation of the +Briton. His costume—negligée shirt, knickerbockers and golf +stockings—did not suggest the country house guest, nor was his accent +quite that of the English gentleman. The detective, who had some +knowledge of these delicate distinctions, laid his bicycle against the +bank and proffered his assistance. Together they repaired the stranger’s +wheel, and, when it was done, rested from their labors in the shade of +the hedge, and engaged in conversation. This at first was of the war—the +young man explaining that he was English and had volunteered at once, +but been rejected on the ground of his eyes—very near-sighted, couldn’t +read the chart at all—touching with an indicating finger the glasses +that spanned his nose. After that he’d come to America; he could make +good money then and had people dependent on him. At this stage Mr. +Larkin asked his profession and learned that he was a valet, by name +James Willitts, just now looking for a place. He _had_ been in the +employ of Mr. Chapman Price and was still staying with him until he got +a new "situation." Mr. Larkin in return recited his little lay about the +plumbing business and the bungalow, and, the introductions accomplished, +they passed to more general topics and soon reached the Janney robbery. + +It was a propitious meeting for the detective, for Willitts proved +himself a free and expansive talker. He launched forth into the subject +with an artless zest, not needing any prompting from his attentive +listener. Mr. Larkin was grateful for it all, but especially so for an +account of the movements of Mr. Price the day before the robbery. He had +sent his valet to Cedar Brook on the morning train, he to follow later +in the afternoon. Willitts, after the unpacking and settling was done, +had biked over to Grasslands to see "the help," and then made the +engagement to meet them that night at the movies. Of course he had to go +back, as part of his work was to lay out Mr. Price’s dinner clothes and +help him dress, and it was most unfortunate, because, when he went up to +Mr. Price’s room, Mr. Price said he wouldn’t change, would keep on the +clothes he had and go motoring. + +"Motoring," observed Mr. Larkin, mildly interested, "did he motor in the +evening?" + +"Not usually—but I don’t know if you remember that night. After a heavy +rain it cleared and the moon came out as bright as day." + +Mr. Larkin didn’t remember himself but he had a vague recollection of +having read it in some of the papers. + +"It was a wonderful night, and if it hadn’t been I’d never have kept my +date. For I got side-tracked—had to fetch the doctor for my landlady’s +little girl who was taken bad with the croup. And what with that and the +long distance I’d have given it up if it hadn’t been for the moon." + +The detective did not find these details particularly pertinent, and +edged nearer to vital matters: + +"Pretty unpleasant position for those two men, Dixon and Isaac. I was in +Berkeley before I came here and there was a lot of talk." + +The valet looked at him with sharp surprise: + +"But no suspicion rests on _them_, I’ll be bound. I lived in that house +since last October and I’ll swear that there’s not an honester pair in +the whole country." + +Mr. Larkin, as a stranger to the parties, had no need to display a +corresponding warmth, merely remarking that Berkeley was convinced of +their innocence. + +The young man appeased, felt in his coat for a pipe and drew a tobacco +pouch from his pocket. As he filled the bowl, his profile was presented +to the detective’s vigilant eye, which dwelt thoughtfully on the neat +outline, almost handsome except that the chin receded slightly. A good +looking fellow, Mr. Larkin thought, and smart—somehow as the +conversation had progressed he was beginning to think him smarter than +he had at the start. + +"How about that Miss Maitland," he said, "the young lady secretary?" + +Willitts had the pipe in his mouth and was pressing the tobacco down +with his thumb. He spoke through closed teeth: + +"What about her?" + +"Well, what sort is she? You needn’t tell me she’s good looking, for I +saw her once in the post office and she’s a peach." + +The valet leaned forward and felt in his coat pocket for matches. The +movement presented his face in full to Mr. Larkin’s glance, and the +detective noticed that its bright alertness had diminished, that a +slight film of stolidity had formed over it like ice over a running +stream. The man had removed his pipe and held it in one hand while he +scrabbled round in his coat with the other. + +"She’s a very fine young lady; nothing but good’s ever been said of her +in _my_ hearing. And very competent in her work—they say—and she would +be, or Mrs. Janney wouldn’t keep her." + +He found the matches and, sitting upright, lit one and applied it to the +pipe bowl. The detective, with his eyes ready to swerve to the +landscape, hazarded a shot at the bull’s-eye. + +"They were saying—or more hinting I guess you’d call it—that Mr. Price +was—er—getting to look her way too often." + +Willitts was very still. The watching eyes noticed that the flame of the +match burned steady over the pipe bowl; for a moment the valet’s breath +was held. Then, without moving, his voice peculiarly quiet, he said: + +"Now I’d like to know who told you _that_?" + +The other gave a lazy laugh: + +"Oh, I can’t tell—every kind of rumor was flying about. They were ready +to say anything." + +"Yes, that’s it. Say anything to get listened to and not care whose +character they were taking away." + +"Then there’s nothing in it?" + +"Tommyrot!" he snorted out the word with intense irritation. "The silly +fools! Mr. Price is no more in love with her than I am. He’s not that +kind; he’s an honorable gentleman. And, believe me, the wrong’s not all +on his side. It’s not for me to tell tales of the family, but I will say +that there’s not many men could have put up with what he did." + +His face was flushed, he was openly exasperated. Mr. Larkin remembered +what he had heard of the man’s affection for the master, and his +thoughts formed into an unspoken sentence, "He knows something and won’t +tell." + +"Well, well," he said cheerfully, "when a big thing happens there’s +bound to be all sorts of scandal and surmise. People work off their +excitement that way; you can’t muzzle ’em—" + +Willitts grunted a scornful assent and rose. It was time to go; Mr. +Price would be coming up from town that night and he would be on duty. +The detective, lifting his bicycle from the grass, casually inquired if +Mr. Price motored from the city. + +"Oh, dear no. He keeps his car here in Sommers’ garage—he needs it, +taking people about to see the country. He made a tidy bit of money here +last week." + +"Talking of money," said the other, "did you know that ten thousand +dollars’ reward has been offered for those jewels?" + +Willitts, astride his wheel, stretched a feeling foot for the pedal: + +"Yes, I saw it in the papers." + +"Easy money for somebody." + +"Yes, but _is_ there somebody beside the thief—or thieves—who knows? +_That’s_ the question." + +They pedaled back side by side talking amicably, mutually pleased to +find they were neighbors. On the outskirts of the village they parted +with promises for a speedy reunion, Willitts to go to the Hartleys, and +Mr. Larkin to Sommers’ garage to ask the price of a flivver for an +excursion beyond the reach of his bicycle. + +When he arrived at the garage a large touring car, packed full of veiled +females, was drawn up at the entrance. The driver, with Sommers and his +assistant beside him, had opened the hood and the three of them were +peering into the inner depths with the anxious concentration of doctors +studying the anatomy of a patient. Mr. Larkin walked by them and went +into the garage. He cast a rapid look about him, over the lined-up +motors in the back, and then through the doorway into the small office. +The place was empty. With a stealthy glance at the party round the +touring car, he strolled in to where the time card rack hung on the +wall. He ran his eye down the list of names until he came to "Price" and +drew out the card. The second entry was dated July seventh and showed +that that night Price had taken out his car at eight-thirty and not +returned it until five minutes to two. + + + + +CHAPTER X—MOLLY’S STORY + + +As soon as I had the notes of that ’phone message down I wrote a report +for the Whitney office—just an outline—and posted it myself in the +village. The answer with instructions came the following evening. The +next time Miss Maitland went into town I was to come with her. In the +concourse of the Pennsylvania station I’d see O’Malley (the Whitneys’ +detective) and it would be my business to point her out to him. He was +to follow her and I to come to the office and make my full report. Say +nothing of what I’d heard to Mrs. Janney. + +That was Tuesday; Thursday was Miss Maitland’s holiday and right along +she’d been going into town. Wednesday afternoon I heard her say she’d go +in as usual on the eight forty-five, tipped off the office by ’phone, +and told Mrs. Janney I’d need that day to make a report to Mr. Whitney—a +business formality that had to be observed. + +Miss Maitland and I went in together, looking very sociable on the +outside, and talking about the weather, the new style in skirts, how +flat Long Island was, and other such ladylike topics. Coming off the +train I stuck to her like a burr, was almost arm in arm going up the +stairs, and then in the concourse broke myself loose and faded away +toward the news stand. Right there, leaning against the magazine end, +I’d seen a large, fat, sloppy-looking man, with a tired panama hat back +from his forehead, and a masonic emblem on his watch chain. + +O’Malley was a first class worker in his line, and his appearance was +worth rubies. He’d a small-town, corner-grocery look that would have +fooled any one unless they’d a scent for a sleuth like a dog for a bone. +As I edged up near him, reaching out for a magazine, he cast a cold, +disdainful glance at me like the rube that’s wise to the dangers of the +great city. I dragged a magazine out from behind his back and whispered, +"In the lavender dress and the white hat with the grapes round it." And +dreamy, as if his thoughts were back with mother on the farm, he heaved +himself up from the stand and took the trail. + +The Chief—that’s my name for Mr. Whitney—and Mr. George were waiting for +me in the old man’s office. Gee, it was great to be there again, like +times in the past when we’d meet together and thrash out the last +findings. Of course the Chief had to have his joke, holding me by the +shoulders and cocking his head to one side as he looked into my face: + +"My, my, Molly, but the country’s put a bloom on you! What a pity it is +you’re married or you might get one of those millionaires down there." + +And I couldn’t help answering fresh—he just sort of dares you to it: + +"I won’t say but what I might, Chief. But it’s poor sport. Seeing what +they’ve got to choose from it would be a shame to take the money." + +Mr. George was impatient—he always gets bristly when things are +moving—and cut us off from our fooling when a sharp: + +"Come on, Molly, sit down and let’s hear the whole of this." + +So I took up the white man’s burden, told them all I’d seen and heard +and picked up, ending off with the full notes of the ’phone talk. Then I +laid the paper on the table and looked at them. The Chief was gazing +thoughtfully at the floor, and Mr. George’s face was puckered with a +frown like he’d eaten a persimmon. + +"It’s the queerest thing I ever heard in my life," he said. "Chapman and +that girl! Why, it’s impossible. Are you sure the man on the ’phone +_was_ Chapman?" + +"It must have been. He spoke of meeting me in the woods and Mr. Price is +the only man I ever met there." + +The Chief looked up, glowering at me from under his big eyebrows: + +"What’s your opinion of this Maitland woman?" + +"Well, I don’t think there’s anything wrong about her—I mean I’d never +get that impression from her general make-up. But before I tapped that +message, I did get a hunch that she was sort of abstracted and shut away +in herself. She’d lonesome habits and she’d look downhearted when she +thought no one saw her. I’d size her up roughly as some one who wasn’t +easy in her mind." + +"Have you ever heard anything of her having any sort of affair or +friendship with Price?" + +"Not a hint of it. That’s what made me sit up and take notice. Under +everybody’s eye the way they were and yet not a soul suspecting +anything—you’re not as secret as that for nothing." + +"While they were talking on the ’phone did you notice anything in their +voices—it certainly wasn’t in the words—that suggested tenderness or +love?" + +"No, it was more as if they knew each other well. He sounded as if he +was trying to jolly her along, keep up her spirits; and she as if she +was scared, not at _him_ but at what he might do." + +"They’d be careful," said Mr. George. "A man and a woman who were +involved in some dangerous scheme wouldn’t coo at each other over the +wire like two turtle doves." + +"Love’s hard to hide," said the old man, "betrays itself in small ways. +And Molly’s got a fine, trained ear." + +"Well, it caught no love there, Chief. The only person at Grasslands +who’s got that complaint is Mrs. Price. She’s in love with Mr. +Ferguson." + +Mr. George was very much surprised. + +"The deuce you say!—Old Dick fallen at last." + +The Chief gave a sort of sarcastic grunt. + +"Ferguson can take care of himself. He’s not as big a fool as he looks +or pretends to be. Now these extra holidays of Miss Maitland’s you’ve +spoken of—how long has that been going on?" + +"Since April. Before that she never wanted time off and often spent her +Thursdays in the house. At Grasslands this summer she’s gone into town +every Thursday and three times asked for extra days. The last was July +the eighth, the day after the robbery." + +"Umph!" muttered the old man. "I guess we’ll know something about that +when we hear from O’Malley." + +Mr. George, slumped down in his chair, with his hands thrust in his +pockets, his chin pressed on his collar, said gloomily: + +"I confess I’m dazed. It’s perfectly possible that Chapman, who didn’t +like his wife, should have fallen in love with the girl, it’s perfectly +natural that they should have kept it dark; but that he’s joined with +her in a plan to steal Mrs. Janney’s jewels!"—he shook his head staring +in front of him—"I can’t get the focus. Price wouldn’t qualify for a +Sunday school superintendent, but I can’t seem to see him as a gentleman +burglar." + +"He was mad when he left," I said. "He made a sort of scene." + +"What’s that?" growled the old man, looking up quick. + +"He got angry and threatened them. I don’t know just in what way because +I’ve only caught it in bits and scraps. But Dixon heard him and told in +the village where I picked up an echo of it. He said they’d stolen his +child." + +"Sounds like him—an ugly temper. Try and get exactly what he said if you +can." + +We talked on a while, going back and forth over it like a lawn mower +over grass. Then a knock on the door stopped us; a boy put in his head +and announced: + +"Mr. O’Malley’s outside and wants to see Mr. Whitney." + +Mr. George and I squared round in our chairs with our eyes glued on the +doorway. The Chief, slouched down comfortable with his shirt-bosom +bulging, looked like a sleepy old bear, but from under the jut of his +eyebrows his glance shone as keen as a razor. O’Malley entered, hot and +red, his panama in his hand, and that air about him I’ve seen before—a +suppressed triumph gleaming out through the cracks. + +"Well?" says Mr. George, curt and sharp. + +O’Malley took a chair and mopped his forehead: + +"There’s no mistake she’s got something up her sleeve. She took the +Seventh Avenue car and went downtown until she came to Jefferson Court +house, got out there, went a few blocks into the Greenwich Village +section and stopped at a house on a small sort of thoroughfare called +Gayle Street. I think she let herself in with a key, but I’m not sure. +The place is a shady-looking rookery, no porch or steps, door opening +right on the sidewalk, three windows to each floor, mansard roof. About +ten minutes after she went in, a man came down the street, walking +quick, hat low over his eyes—it was Mr. Chapman Price." + +Mr. George stirred and gave a mutter. The old man, stretching his hand +to the cigar box at his elbow, took out a large fat cigar and said: + +"Price, eh?—Go on." + +"I thought the lady’d used a key, and I saw plain that he did. The door +opened and he went in. I crossed over and looked at the bells. There +were nine of them, all with names underneath except the top floor ones. +These, the last three of the line, had no names, showing the top floor +was vacant. + +"There was a drug store right opposite and I went in, took a soda, and +asked the clerk about the locality—said I was looking for lodgings in +that section. I got him round to the house, where I heard I might get a +room cheap. He said maybe I could—being summer there’d be vacancies—that +the place was decent enough, but he’d heard pretty poor and mean. Just +as I got through talking to him and was leaving I saw the door across +the street open, and Mr. Price come out. He came quick, on the slant, +and was among the folks on the sidewalk before you could notice. It was +the way a man acts when he doesn’t want to be seen. He walked off toward +Seventh Avenue, his head down, keeping close to the houses. I didn’t +wait for Miss Maitland—thought I’d better come back here and report." + +"Well!" said Mr. George. "I’m jiggered if I can make head or tail of +it." + +The Chief took the cigar out of his mouth and addressed O’Malley: + +"Find out Price’s movements on the night of July seventh, everything he +did, everywhere he went." He turned to me. "And you want to remember not +a hint of this gets to Mrs. Janney. She hates Price and when her blood’s +up she’s a red Indian. We don’t want the family drawn in until we know +something." + + + + +CHAPTER XI—FERGUSON’S IDEA + + +During these days Dick Ferguson thought a good deal and said very +little. Like the rest of his world he wondered over the unsolved mystery +of the Janney robbery, but his wonderings contained an element of +discomfort. He heard the subject discussed everywhere and often the name +of Esther Maitland came up in the discussions. Not that any one ever +suggested she might be involved;—it was more a sympathetic appreciation +of her position. Every one spoke very feelingly about it:—poor girl, so +uncomfortable for her, knowing the combination and all that sort of +thing—the Janneys had stood by her splendidly, but still it _was_ +trying. + +It tried _him_ a good deal, made inroads on his temper, until it lost +its sunny evenness and he was sometimes short and surly. The day after +Molly and Esther went to town he had been called to a conference in the +Fairfax house on the bluff. A gang of motor boat thieves had been +operating along the Sound, had already stolen two launches, and the +owners of water-front property had convened to decide on a course. +Ferguson, with a small fleet to his credit, had taken rather a high +hand, and shown an unwonted irritation at the indecision of his +associates. If they wanted their boats protected it was up to them to do +it, establish a shore police patrol financed by themselves. That was +what he intended to do and they could join with him or not as they +pleased. He left them, ruffled by his brusqueness and remarking grumpily +that "Ferguson was beginning to feel his money." + +He went from the meeting to his own beach and on the way met Suzanne +returning with Bébita from the morning bath. They stopped for a chat in +the course of which Suzanne made a series of remarks not calculated to +soothe his perturbed spirit. They were apropos of Miss Maitland, who had +taken an early morning swim, all alone, refusing to wait and go in with +them. Suzanne said it was a pity Miss Maitland kept so much to +herself—the girl seemed depressed and out of spirits lately, didn’t he +think so? Quite different to what she had been earlier in the season, +seemed to be troubled about something. Too bad—every one liked her so +much, and people _did_ talk so. Then with an artless smile she went off +under her white parasol. + +There was no smile on Ferguson’s face as he walked to his boat houses. +He told his men of the police patrol—to operate along the shore after +nightfall—gave a few gruff orders and disappeared into a bath house. +When he emerged, stripped for a swim, he stalked silently by them and +dove from the end of the wharf. They were surprised at his manner, +usually so genial, and wondered among themselves watching his head, +sleek as a wet seal’s, receding over the shining water. + +The head was full of what Suzanne had said. Though he had offered no +agreement to her suggestions, he _had_ noticed the change in Esther. He +had noticed it soon after the robbery, in fact before that, for it had +dated from the evening when she dined at his house, the night the jewels +were taken. Disturbance grew in him as he thought:—if so shallow a +creature as Suzanne could see it, others could. And Suzanne had no +sense, no realization of the weight of words. She might go round +chattering like a fool and get the girl talked about. It would be the +decent thing to give Esther a hint, put her wise to the fact that she +ought to brighten up—not give any one a chance to say she was not as she +had been. + +As his long, muscular body slid through the water he decided to go over +and have a talk with her. The decision cheered him, for to be with +Esther Maitland was the keenest pleasure he knew. + +Suzanne had told him she and her mother would be out that afternoon, so +at three—the hour they were to leave—he set out for Grasslands by the +wood path. As he crossed the garden his questing glance met an +encouraging sight—Esther Maitland sitting under a group of maples at the +end of the terrace. She was alone, an empty chair beside her, her head +bowed over a book. + +Her welcoming smile was very sweet; his eye noticed a faint color rise +in her cheeks as he came up. These signs were so agreeable that he would +like to have sat there, placidly enjoying her presence, but he was a +person who once possessed by an idea "had to get it out of his system." +This he proceeded to do, advancing on his subject with what he thought +was a crafty indirectness: + +"You know, Miss Maitland, you’re not a credit to Long Island." + +She raised her brows, deprecating, also amused: + +"What have I done?" + +"It’s what you haven’t done. We expect people to come here worn and +weary and then blossom like the rose. You’ve gone back on the +tradition." + +She stretched a hand for a bundle of knitting—a soldier’s muffler—on the +table beside her: + +"I don’t feel worn or weary and I’m sorry I look so." + +"Oh, you always _look_ lovely," he hastily assured her. "I didn’t mean +that it wasn’t becoming. But—er—er—what I wanted to say was—er—why is +it?" + +Miss Maitland began to knit, her face bent over the work, her dark head +backed by the green distances of the lawn. Ferguson thought she had the +most beautifully shaped head he had ever seen. He would like to have +leaned back in his chair studying its classic outline. But he was there +for a purpose and he held himself sternly to it, looking at her profile +and trying to forget that it was as fine as her head. + +"I don’t know why it is," she answered, "but I do know that you’re not +very complimentary." + +"If you give me a dare like that I’ll show you how complimentary I _can_ +be. But I’ll put that off until later. What I think is that you’re +worrying—that the robbery has got on your nerves." + +"Why should it get on my nerves?" + +He was aware of her eyes—diverted from the knitting—looking curiously at +him: + +"Why, it’s been so—so—unpleasant, all this fuss and publicity. It’s been +a shock." + +Her hands with the knitting dropped into her lap. She was now staring +fixedly at him: + +"Do you mean that I’m worrying because I think I may be suspected of +it?" + +He was shocked to angry repudiation. + +"Good Lord, no! What a thing to say!" + +She took up her work, and answered with cool composure: + +"Nevertheless I _have_ wondered if anybody ever thought it. You see I’m +the only one in the house—the only one who knows the combination—who +_is_ a sort of stranger. Dixon and Isaac are like members of the +family." + +"Don’t talk such rubbish," he protested, then leaning nearer, "Have you +had _that_ on your mind all this time? Is _that_ what’s made the +change?" + +She looked up at him, startled: + +"Change—what change?" + +"Change in you. Yes," in answer to the disturbed inquiry of her glance, +"there is one. I’ve noticed it; other people have." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Why, you’re different, you’ve lost your good spirits. You’re not like +you were before this happened." + +Her response came with something combative in its countering quickness: + +"I’m busier than I used to be. Since the robbery I’ve taken over a good +deal of the housekeeping. Mrs. Janney has been much more upset than you +guess." + +"And you’re so withdrawn, keep more to yourself. I used to find you +about when I came over; now I almost never see you." + +The interview had taken on the character of a verbal duel, he thrusting, +she parrying, both earnest and insistent. + +"I’ve just told you; I have more work, I’ve not the leisure I used to +have." + +"So busy you have to shun people?" + +"That’s absurd, you imagine it. I’ve never shunned any one and there’s +no reason why I should." + +"I agree with you but let me ask one more question. You say your work is +harder and you _do_ look tired and worn out. Why don’t you take a decent +rest on your holidays? Last year you spent them here, out of doors, +loafing about. Now you go to town. I’ve been over twice on Thursdays and +when I ask for you, always hear you’re in the city. And you’ve been at +other times too—Mrs. Janney told me so. It’s the most fatiguing thing +you can do in this hot weather. Why do you go?" + +He saw her color suddenly deepen. She had let the knitting drop to her +lap and now she took it up again and began to work, very fast, the +needles flashing in her white hands. She smiled as she answered: + +"You seem to have kept rather a sharp look-out on me, Mr. Ferguson. Did +it never occur to you that a woman _might_ need clothes, or might want +to see a friend who happened to be staying in town for the summer?" + +The young man had been admiring the white hands. As she spoke something +in their movements caught and held his eye—they were trembling. He was +so surprised that he made no answer, his glance riveted on them trying +to hold the needles steady to their task. Miss Maitland made an effort +to go on, then dropped the knitting in a bunch on her knees and clasped +the hands over it. Neither speaking, their eyes met. The expression of +hers, furtively apprehensive like a scared child’s pierced his heart and +he leaned toward her, his sunburned face full of concern: + +"Miss Maitland, what’s wrong? Something is—tell me." + +Without answering she shook her head, her lips tightly compressed. He +could see that she was shaken, that the clasped hands on her knee were +clenched together to control their trembling. He could see that, for a +moment, taken unawares, she did not trust herself to speak. + +"Look here," he said, low and urgent, "be frank with me. I’ve seen for +some time something was troubling you—I told you so that night at my +place. Why not let me lend a hand? That’s what I want to do—that’s what +I’m _for_." + +She had found her voice and it came with a high, light hardness, in +curious contrast to the feeling in his: + +"You’re all wrong, Mr. Ferguson. You’re seeing what doesn’t exist." She +started to her feet, making a grab at her knitting as it slid toward the +ground. "Oh, my needle! I almost pulled it out. That _would_ have been a +calamity." She carefully pushed the stitches on to the needle as if her +whole interest lay in preserving the woven fabric. "There I’ve picked +them up, not lost one." Then she looked at them, smiling, her expression +showing a veiled defiance, "You ought to have been a novelist—your +imagination’s wasted. Here you are seeing me as a distressed damsel, +while I’m only a perfectly normal, perfectly common-place person. +Romantic fiction would have been your line." + +She gave a laugh that brought the blood to the young man’s face, for its +musical ripple contained a note of derision: + +"But for my sake please curb your fancy. Don’t suggest to my employers +that I’m weighted down by a secret sorrow. They mightn’t like a blighted +being for a secretary and I might lose my job, and then I really _would_ +be worried." + +He stood it unflinching, only the dark flush betraying his +mortification. He assured her of his reticence and ended by asking her +pardon. She granted it, even thanked him for his concern in her behalf +and with a smile that was still mocking, said she had notes to write, +gathered up her work, and bade him good-by. + +Dick Ferguson walked back through the woods to Council Oaks. When the +first discomfort of the rebuff had passed he pondered deeply. He was +sure now beyond the peradventure of a doubt that Esther Maitland was in +trouble of some kind, and was ready to use all the weapons at her +command to keep him from finding it out. + +Two nights after that he dined at Grasslands. It was just a family +party, and, being such, Miss Maitland was present. She met him with the +subdued quietness that he was beginning to recognize as her "social +secretary manner"—the manner of the lady employee, politely colorless +and self-effacing. + +In the dining room, with its clustered lights along the walls, where +long windows framed the deep blue night, they looked a gay and goodly +party. To the unenlightened observer they might have stood for a typical +group of the care-free rich, waited on by obsequious menials, feeding +sumptuously in sumptuous surroundings. Yet each one of them was preyed +upon by secret anxieties. + +When the ladies withdrew Mr. Janney and Ferguson sat on smoking and +sipping their coffee. If every member of the party had his hidden +distress, Mr. Janney’s was by no means the least. His problem was still +unsolved, still menacing. Kissam’s suggestion and his own fond hope, +that the jewels would be restored had not been realized, and he was +contemplating the day when he would have to face Suzanne with his +knowledge. Damocles beneath the suspended sword was not more +uncomfortable than he. Any allusion to the robbery made his heart sink, +and, as the allusions were frequent, conversation had become a thing +harkened to with held breath and sick anticipation. + +Alone with Ferguson he was experiencing the usual qualms, but the young +man, instead of the customary questions, asked him his opinion of +Willitts, Chapman’s valet, whom he thought of engaging. Mr. Janney +brightened up, told Dixon to bring some of his own especial cigars, and +relapsed into tranquillity. He could recommend Willitts highly, smart, +capable and honest, but he thought he’d heard Dick say he couldn’t stand +a valet fussing about him. Dick had said it and was still of the same +mind, but most of his guests were men and he needed some one to look +after their clothes. They made a lot of bother, the servants had kicked, +and he’d thought of Willitts. + +Mr. Janney could give no information as to Willitts’ whereabouts, but +Dixon, entering with the cigar box and lamp, could. Willitts was at +Cedar Brook where Mr. Price spent a good deal of time; he was still +disengaged and looking for a position, if Mr. Ferguson would like Dixon +would get word to him. Mr. Ferguson would like, and, the box presented +at his elbow, he took out a cigar and held its tip to the lamp. Mr. +Janney forgot Willitts and drew his guest’s attention to the cigar, a +special brand of rare excellence. + +"We keep them in the safe," said the old man. "Only place that’s secure +against the damp. It was Chapman’s idea—the one thing in my acquaintance +with Chapman I’m grateful for." + +It was an unfortunate remark, for Ferguson, leaning back in his chair +with the cigar between his lips, murmured dreamily: + +"The safe—do you know I’ve been thinking over things lately. I can’t +understand one point. Why didn’t the thief take those jewels when the +house was virtually empty instead of waiting until it was full?" + +Mr. Janney’s heart took a dizzying, downward dive. He had been looking +forward to his smoke, now all his zest departed, his old, veined hand +shaking as it felt in the box. + +Ferguson went on: + +"The fellow may have come in early and hidden himself—not got down to +business until every one was asleep." + +Mr. Janney emitted an agreeing murmur and motioned Dixon to hold the +lamp nearer. As he bent toward it the young man was silent and Mr. +Janney began to hope that the obnoxious subject was abandoned. He sent a +side glance at his guest and the hope was strengthened. Ferguson had +taken his cigar from his lips and was looking at the paper band that +encircled it. He was looking at it so intently that Mr. Janney felt sure +his interest was diverted and sought to drive it into safer channels. + +"Pretty fine cigar, eh?" he said. "This is the first of a new lot, just +come." + +Ferguson drew the band off and laid it beside his plate: + +"Excellent. That’s a good idea—keeping them in the safe. Do you always +do it?" + +"Yes, it’s the only thing—much better than a humidor." + +"I haven’t got a safe or I’d try it. Did you have any there the night of +the robbery?" + +Mr. Janney felt that the gods had sought him out for a special vengeance +and murmured drearily: + +"I believe so—a few. Dixon knows." + +Dixon who was on his way to the door turned: + +"Yes, sir, only one box, the last we had." + +Ferguson laughed: + +"If the thief had had time to try one he’d have taken the box along +too." + +Dixon, who treated all allusions to the subject with a tragical +seriousness, said: + +"I don’t think he touched them, sir. The box looked just the same. Mr. +Kissam was very particular to ask about it, but I told him I thought +they was intact, as you might say. Though if it was the loss of one or +two I couldn’t be certain." + +Dixon left the room and Mr. Janney looked dismally at his plate, having +no spirit to fight against fate. Ferguson, with a glance at his +down-drooped face, picked up the band and slipped it in his pocket. + +He did not stay long after dinner. As soon as his car came he left, +telling the chauffeur to hurry. At home he ran up the stairs to his +room, switched on the light over the bureau and opened the box with the +crystal lid. Under the studs and pins lay the band Esther had found the +night he walked with her through the woods. He compared it with the one +he took from his pocket and saw that they matched. The new one he threw +into the fireplace, but put the other back in the box—it was something +more than a souvenir. Then he sat down on the end of the sofa and +thought. + +Mr. Janney could not have dropped it for he had driven both to and from +Council Oaks. Neither Dixon nor Isaac could have, for they had gone to +the village by the main road and come back the same way at midnight. He +had found it at half-past ten, untouched by the heavy shower, which had +lasted from about seven till half-past eight. Therefore, whoever had +thrown it there had passed that way between the time when the rain +stopped and the time when Esther had found it. It had been dropped +either by a man who had one of the cigars in his possession and had been +on the wood path between eight-thirty and ten-thirty, or by a man who +had taken a cigar from the safe between those hours. + +Ferguson sat staring at the wall with his brows knit. If it had not been +for the light his own gardener had seen he would have felt that he had +struck the right road. + + + + +CHAPTER XII—THE MAN WHO WOULDN’T TELL + + +Mr. Larkin had lingered on at Cedar Brook. He said that he needed a +holiday, the prosperity of the last year had worn him out, also the +bungalow sites were many and a decision difficult. + +He saw a good deal of Willitts; they had become very friendly, almost +chums. Their lodgings were but a few yards apart and of evenings they +smoked neighborly pipes on the porch steps, and of afternoons took walks +into the country. During these hours their talk ranged over many +subjects, the valet proving himself a brightly loquacious companion. But +upon a subject that Mr. Larkin introduced with delicate artfulness—Price +and Esther Maitland—he maintained the evasive reticence that had marked +him at their first meeting. For all the walks and talks Mr. Larkin +learned no more, and as his curiosity remained unsatisfied his +inclination for Willitts’ society increased. + +It was a few days after that first meeting that, strolling down Main +Street toward Sommers’ garage, the detective stopped short, staring at +two figures emerging from the garage entrance. One was Sommers, the +other a fat, red-faced man with a sunburned Panama on the back of his +head. A glance at this man and Mr. Larkin turned on his heel and made +down a side lane at a swinging gait. Safe out of range behind a lilac +hedge, he slowed up, lifted his hat from a perspiring brow and swore to +himself, low and fiercely. He had recognized Gus O’Malley, private +detective of Whitney & Whitney, and he knew that Whitney & Whitney were +Mrs. Janney’s lawyers. Another investigation was on foot, evidently +following on the lines of his own. + +After two days O’Malley left by the evening train and Mr. Larkin emerged +from a temporary retirement, and sought coolness and solitude on the +front porch. Here, when night had fallen, Willitts joined him taking a +seat on the top step. + +The house behind them was empty of all other tenants, its open front +door letting a long gush of light down the steps and across the pebbled +path to the gate. It was a warm night, heavy and breathless, and Mr. +Larkin, in his shirt sleeves, lolled comfortably, his chair tilted back, +his feet on the railing. The place where he sat was shaded with vines, +and he was discernible as a long, out-stretched bulk, detailless in the +shadow. + +Willitts had good news to impart; that afternoon he had been to Council +Oaks to see Mr. Ferguson who had engaged him as valet. It was an A1 +place, the pay high, the duties light, Mr. Ferguson known to be generous +and easy tempered. Congratulations were in order from Mr. Larkin, and if +they lacked in warmth Willitts did not appear to notice it. + +A pause fell, and his next remark caused the detective to deflect his +gaze from the darkling street to the head of the steps: + +"Did you notice a chap about here yesterday—a fat, untidy looking man in +a Panama hat and a brown sack suit?" + +Mr. Larkin had and wanted to know where Willitts had seen him. + +"In Sommers’ garage. He was hiring a motor, wanted to see the +country—and Sommers telling him I knew it well, asked me to go with +him." + +"Did you go?" + +"I did; I had nothing else to do. We went a long way, through Berkeley +and beyond. He’s what you’d call here ’some talker’ and curious—I’d say +very curious if you asked me." + +"Curious about what?" + +"Everything in the neighborhood, but especially the robbery." + +"Did he have any theories about it?" + +"None that I hadn’t heard before." + +The detective laughed: + +"That accounts for the drive—hoped he’d get some racy gossip about the +family out of you." + +"Maybe that _was_ his idea." + +"Of course it was. I’ll bet he pumped you about Price." + +"I don’t know that I’d call it pumping—he did ask some questions." + +Willitts was sitting with his elbows on his knees, his hands supporting +his chin. The light from the open door behind him lay over his back, +gilded the top of his smooth head and slanted across his cheek. He was +not smoking and he was very still, facts noted by Mr. Larkin. + +The detective stretched, yawned with a sleepy sound and said: + +"So it’s still a subject of popular curiosity, is it?" + +"Yes, _it_ is, but why should Mr. Price be?" + +The valet’s voice was low and quiet, holding a quality hard to define; +the listener decided it was less uneasiness than resentment. After a +moment’s silence he spoke again, very softly, as if the words were +self-communings: + +"I’d like to know who the feller is." + +Mr. Larkin’s feet came down from the rail striking the floor with a +thud. He sat up and looked at his friend: + +"I can tell you. He’s a detective, Gus O’Malley, employed by Whitney & +Whitney." + +Willitts’ hands dropped and he squared round: + +"A detective! _That’s_ it, is it? _That_ accounts for the milk in the +cocoanut. I might have guessed it. And what’s he after me for?" + +"You lived at Grasslands. Something might be dug out of you." + +"But tell me, why should he be curious about Mr. Price?" + +He had dropped one hand on the flooring and supported by it leaned +forward toward his companion. The boyish good humor had gone from his +face; it looked sharp-set and pugnacious. + +The other shrugged: + +"Ask _him_. All I can tell you is that Whitney & Whitney are Mrs. +Janney’s lawyers." + +Willitts pondered, and while he pondered his eyes stared past the +shadowy shape that was Mr. Larkin into the vine-draped blackness of the +porch. Then he said: + +"Mrs. Janney’s down on Mr. Price. She’s all for her daughter. I think +she ’ates ’im." + +The two h’s dropped off with a simple unconsciousness that surprised Mr. +Larkin. Never before in his intercourse with Willitts had he heard the +letter so much as slighted. He made a mental note of it and said dryly: + +"So I’ve heard." + +The man again relapsed into thought, his glance riveted on the darkness, +his expression obviously perturbed. Suddenly he looked at the vague bulk +of Mr. Larkin and said sharply: + +"’Ow do _you_ know so much about ’im?" + +Mr. Larkin’s answer came out of the shadow with businesslike promptness: + +"Because I’m a detective myself." + +For a moment the valet’s face seemed to set, lose its flesh and blood +mobility and harden into something stony, its lines fixed, vitality +suspended,—a vacuous, staring mask. Then life came back to it, broke its +iciness, and flooded it with a frank, almost ludicrous astonishment. + +"You—you!" he stammered out, "and me never so much as thinking it! Would +any one, I’m asking you? Would—" he stopped, his amazement gone, a +sudden belligerent fierceness taking its place, "And are you after Mr. +Price too?" + +Mr. Larkin laughed: + +"I’m after no one at this stage. I’m only assembling data. If O’Malley’s +got to the point of finding a suspect he’s far ahead of me." + +Willitts’ excitement instantly subsided; his answer showed a hurried +urgence: + +"No, no—he didn’t say anything one could take ’old of—only a few +questions. And it’s maybe all in my feelings. I couldn’t bear a person +to think evil of Mr. Price. It ’urts me; I’d be sensitive; I might see +it if it wasn’t there." + +"If you got that impression I guess it _was_ there." + +This remark, delivered with a sardonic dryness, appeared to rekindle +Willitts’ anger. It flared up like the leap of a flame: + +"Then to ’ell with ’im. If they’re working up any dirty suspicions +against my gentleman they’ve come to the wrong man. I’ve got nothing to +say; there’s no information to be wormed out of _me_ for I ’ave none. +Umph—lies, trickery—that’s what _I_ call it!" + +He dropped back into his former position, his angry breathings loud on +the silence, mutterings of rage breaking through them. + +"Well," said Mr. Larkin, "now I’ve put you wise you can form your own +conclusion as to what’s in their minds." + +"Is it in yours, too?" + +The question came quick, shot out between the deep-drawn breaths. Mr. +Larkin was ready for it: + +"I told you I hadn’t got as far as that; I’m just feeling my way. But +let me say something to you." He rose and, going to the steps, sat down +beside Willitts, dropping his voice to a confidential key. "I’ll be +frank with you—I’ll show you how I stand. I didn’t intend to tell you +what I was, but this fellow coming up here has forced my hand. He knows +me, he’ll be after you again, and you’d have found it out. Now, here’s +my position: I want to get this case; it’s my first big one and it’ll +make me every way—professionally and financially." + +He looked at the man beside him who, gazing into the street, nodded +without speaking. + +"There’s ten thousand dollars offered for the restoration of the jewels. +If I could get them I’d share that money with the person +who—who—er—helped." + +Willitts repeated his silent nod. + +"And even if I didn’t get them I’d pay and pay well for any information +that would be useful." + +"I see," said the other, "’oever ’elps along in the good work gets ’is +reward." + +Mr. Larkin did not like the words or the tone, but went on, his +confidential manner growing persuasive: + +"I’m engaged on the side of law and order. All I’m trying to do is to +restore stolen property to its owner. Any one that helps me is only +doing his duty." + +"A duty that gets its dues, as you might say." + +"Exactly. The money made by such services is earned honestly and there’s +plenty of it to earn." + +"Righto! When the Janneys want a thing they’ll open the purse wide and +generous." + +"And here’s a point worth noticing: What I’m hired for is to get the +jewels, not the thief. The party behind me isn’t out for vengeance or +prosecution. If I could deliver the goods it would be all right and no +questions asked. But the Whitneys wouldn’t stop there—they’re +bloodhounds when it comes to the chase. If they got anything on Price +they’d come down on him good and hard and Mrs. Janney’d stand in with +them." + +He was looking with anxious intentness at Willitts’ profile. As he +finished it turned slowly, until the face was offered in full to his +watchful scrutiny. It was forbidding, the eyes sweeping him with a cold +contempt: + +"I can’t ’elp understanding you, Larkin, and I’m sorry to ’ear you got +your suspicions of my gentleman and of _me_. The first is too low to +take notice of; the second is as bad, but I’ll answer it to put us both +straight. I’m not the kind you take me for; I’m not to be bought. Even +if I did know anything that would be ’useful’ as you say, wild ’orses +wouldn’t drag it out of me. And no more will filthy lucre. Filthy—it’s +the right name for it, you couldn’t get a better." He rose, not so much +angry as hurt and haughty. "I can’t find it in me to sit ’ere any +longer. I could talk of insults, but I won’t. All I’ll say is that I’ve +'ad a bit too much, and not wanting to ’ear more I’ll bid you +good-night." + +Before the detective could find words to answer he had gone down the +path and vanished in the darkness. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII—MOLLY’S STORY + + +One of the chief features of detective work is that you must be able to +change your mind. That may not sound hard—especially when the owner of +the mind happens to be a female—but believe me it’s some stunt. You get +pointed one way, and to have to shift and face round in another is candy +for a weather vane but bread for a sleuth. + +Well, that’s what happened to me. In the week that followed my visit to +the Whitneys I had to start out fresh on a new line of thought. I’d left +the office pretty certain, as the others were, that the bond between +Esther Maitland and Chapman Price was love, and before those seven days +were gone I’d thrown that theory into the discard, rolled up my sleeves, +taken a cinch in my belt, and set forth to blaze a new trail. + +I came round to it slow at first and I came round through Mr. Ferguson. +It was fine weather and when Bébita would go off with Annie, I’d curl up +in my conning tower in the school room window and take observations. As +I said before, it was a convenient place, just over Miss Maitland’s +study, deserted all afternoon, and with the Venetian blinds down against +the sun, I could sit comfortable on my cushion and spy out between the +slats. + +The first thing that caught my attention was that Mr. Ferguson, who’d +come over pretty nearly every day, wouldn’t make straight for the front +piazza which was the natural way to get there. Instead he’d take a +slanting course across the garden, come up some steps to the terrace, +and then walk slow past the study door. Sometimes he’d see Miss Maitland +and stop for a chat, and sometimes she wouldn’t be there and he’d go by. +But each and every time, thinking no one was watching, he’d let a look +come on his face that’s common to the whole male sex when the one +particular star is expected above the horizon. I guess the cave man got +it when, club in hand, he was chasing the cave girl and Solomon with his +six hundred wives must have had it stamped on his features so it came to +be his habitual expression. + +Though it was registered good and plain on Mr. Ferguson’s countenance, I +couldn’t at first believe it. It was too like a novel, too like +Cinderella and the Prince. Then, seeing it so frequent, I was convinced. +I’d say to myself "Why not—a girl’s a girl if she is a plutocrat’s +social secretary, and all men are free and equal when it comes to +disposing of their young affections." The romance of it got me, gripped +at my heart. I’d sit with my eye to the crack in the blinds staring down +at him as he’d send that look out for her—that wonderful look, that look +which gives you chills and fever, blind staggers and heart failure and +you’d rather have than a blank check drawn to your order and signed by +John Rockefeller. Oh, gee—I was a girl once myself—don’t I know! I’d +have been interested if it was just an ordinary love story, but it +wasn’t. It was a love story with a mystery for good measure; it was a +love story that had Mrs. Price thrown in to complicate the plot; it was +a love story that was all tangled up with other elements; and it was a +love story that I only could see one side of. + +For I couldn’t get at her feelings at all. This was mostly because I +hardly ever saw her with him. If she did happen to be there when he +passed, she’d be either in her room or under the balcony roof and I +couldn’t see how she acted or hear what she said. Also she had such a +hold on herself, had such a calm, reserved way with her, that you’d have +to be a clairvoyant to get under her guard. + +Any woman would have been thrilled but _me_, knowing what I did—can’t +you see my thoughts going round in wheels and whirligigs? If she +reciprocated—and there’s few that wouldn’t or I don’t know my own +sex—what was she doing with Price? Was she a siren playing the two of +them? Was she Mrs. Price’s secret rival with both men? Was she the kind +of vampire heroine they have in plays who can break up a burglar-proof +home with one hand tied behind her? You wouldn’t think it to look at +her—but the more I hit the high spots of society the more I feel you +can’t tell people by the ordinary trade-marks. + +Then one afternoon toward the end of the week I saw a little scene right +under my window that lightened up the darkness. It gave me what I call +facts; what the Whitneys, anyway Mr. George—but that belongs farther on. + +Mr. Ferguson came out of the wood path, across the garden and on his +usual beat, up the terrace steps. He had a spray of lemon verbena in his +hand and as he walked over the grass with his long, light stride, he +kept his eyes on the balcony keen and expectant, his face all eager and +serious. Suddenly it changed, brightened, softened, glowed like the +sunlight had fallen on it—you didn’t need to be a detective to know +she’d come out of the study. + +This time she came down the steps and went toward him. They met under my +window and stood there, he facing me, brushing his lips with the spray +of lemon verbena and looking down at her, a lover if ever I saw one. He +asked her what she was doing that afternoon, and she said going for a +walk, and when he wanted to know where, she said through the woods to +the beach. "A solitary walk?" he asked and she said yes, her walks were +always solitary. + +"By preference?" + +She turned half away from him and I could see her profile. I’d hardly +have known it for Miss Maitland’s, soft, shy, the cheek pink. Her eyes +were on the toe of her shoe, white against the green grass, and with her +head drooping she was like a girl, bashful and blushing before her beau. + +"It generally is by preference," she said. + +"Would it exclude me," he asked, "if I tried to butt in?" + +She didn’t answer for a moment, then said very low: + +"Not if you really wanted to come—didn’t do it just to be kind to a +lonesome lady." + +"Lonesome lady be hanged," he exclaimed as joyful as if she’d given him +a kiss, "it’s just the other way round—kindness to a lonesome gentleman. +I’m terribly lonesome this afternoon." + +But he wasn’t going to be long—far from it. Round the corner of the +house, walking soft as a cat, came Mrs. Price. She made me think of a +cat every way, stepping so stealthy, her body so slim and lithe, a +small, secret smile on her face as if she’d come on two nice little +helpless mice. She was all in white, shining and spotless, a tennis +racket in one hand, a bunch of letters in the other. They didn’t see her +and she got quite close, then said, sweet and smooth as treacle: + +"Good afternoon, Dick." + +They weren’t doing anything but planning a walk, but they both started +like it had been a murder. + +"Oh," says Mr. Ferguson, looking blankly disconcerted, "oh, Suzanne, I +didn’t see you. How do you do—good afternoon." + +She came to a halt and stood softly swinging her racket, looking at him +with that mean, cold smile. + +"I was in my room and saw you so I came down at once. It’s a splendid +afternoon for our game, not a breath of wind." + +I saw, and she saw, and I guess any but a blind man could have seen, +he’d a date to play tennis with her and had forgotten it. Of course a +woman would have scrambled out, had _something_ to offer that made a +noise like an excuse; but that poor prune of a man—they’re all alike +when a quick lie’s needed—couldn’t think of a thing to say. He just +stood between them, looking haunted and stammering out such gems of +thought as, "Our game—of course our game—I hadn’t noticed it but there +_is_ no wind." + +She had him; he couldn’t throw her down after he’d made the engagement, +and with her there he couldn’t say what he wanted to Esther Maitland. +And neither of them helped him; Mrs. Price listened to his flounderings +with the little smile, light and cool on her painted lips, and Miss +Maitland stood by, not a word out of her. I noticed that Mrs. Price +never looked at her, acted as if she wasn’t there, and presently +Ferguson, getting desperate, turns to her and says: + +"How about taking our walk later—after Mrs. Price and I have finished +our game?" + +The girl got red, burning; she started to answer, but Mrs. Price cut in, +for the first time addressing her: + +"Oh, Miss Maitland, that reminds me—I want these letters answered, if +you’ll be so kind. Just follow the notes on the edges, and please do it +as soon as possible—they’re rather important. They must go out on the +evening mail." + +She handed the letters to the girl and Esther Maitland took them with a +murmur. I know that kind of answer—it’s the agreeing response of the +wage-earner. It comes soft and polite—it has to—but like the pleasant +rippling of the ocean on the beach it’s not the only sound that element +can give forth. + +Ferguson tried to say something; he was mad and mortified and everything +else he ought to have been, but she wouldn’t give him a chance. + +"Come along, Dick," she says, bright and easy, "you’ve kept me waiting +which is very rude, but I’m in a good humor and I’ll forgive you. +There’s a racket at the court—we were playing there this morning. You +can walk with Miss Maitland some other day. I’m afraid she’ll have to +attend to _my_ work this afternoon." + +He got balky, lingered, looked at Miss Maitland, but she turned sharply +away and moved toward the balcony. So there was nothing for him to do +but to go off with his captor. I couldn’t but look after them, both in +beautiful white clothes, both rich, both young, he so tall, she so slim, +for all the world like a picture of lovers on the cover of a magazine. +Then I switched back to Miss Maitland. She’s come to a halt, right below +the window, and, standing there like a graven image, was watching them. + +I never saw any one so still. You wouldn’t have known she was alive +except for her eyes which moved after them, moved and moved, until the +pair disappeared behind the rose-covered trellis that hid the courts. +Then she let out a sound, a smothered ejaculation that you couldn’t +spell with letters; but you didn’t need to, it said more than printed +pages. Rage was in it and pain and love. They were in her face, too, +stamped and cut into it. I wouldn’t have known it for hers, it was all +marred and tragic, a pitiful, dreadful face. + +She looked blankly at the letters in her hand, at first as if she didn’t +know what they were, then crumpled them, threw them on the ground and +made a run for the balcony. She was almost there, I craning my neck to +keep her in sight, when she stopped, wheeled around, went back to the +scattered papers and picked them up. "Oh, bread and butter," I thought, +"bread and butter! Aren’t you cursing it now?" Bad as I believed her to +be I couldn’t but be sorry for her, for I’ve been in that position +myself. Take it from me, licking the hand that feeds you is a job that +comes hard to the worst of us. + +She pressed out the letters, smoothed away the creases slow and careful +and came back to the balcony. Just before she disappeared under it she +stopped and lifted her face, the eyes closed, the teeth pressed on her +under lip. It quivered like a child’s on the brink of tears, but she +wasn’t crying—fighting, I’d say, against something deeper than tears. I +couldn’t bear to look at it and shut my own eyes; when I opened them she +was gone. + +You didn’t need to tell me any more after that. She was in love with +Ferguson, not Price; she was in love and straining every nerve to hide +it; she was in love so she was jealous of Mrs. Price—and I’d bet a hat +she was the kind who could love fierce and hard. + +I had to get this into the office and the next day asked for time off +from Mrs. Janney and went in. I found them different to what they had +been on my first visit, taking it serious like they were warming to it. +I’d hardly sat down before I heard the reason. O’Malley had been busy +and turned up enough evidence to make them sure that Chapman Price and +Miss Maitland were in deep in some sort of plot or conspiracy. + +O’Malley’s investigation of Price’s movements on the night of July the +seventh had revealed these facts: Price had taken his car from Sommers’ +garage at Cedar Brook at eight-thirty, not returning till five minutes +before two. To one of the garage men he had said that the night being so +fine he had gone for a long run over the island. No trace of his +whereabouts during these hours had been found until O’Malley dropped on +a policeman at the end of the Queensborough Bridge. This man said Price +had crossed over to the city between nine-thirty and ten. He was +positive of his identification, as early in June he had stopped the +young man for exceeding the speed limit on the bridge, taken his name +and address and had a heated altercation with him. From that time to his +return to Cedar Brook Price had dropped out of sight. He had not been in +the lodgings he kept in town or in any of the garages he patronized. +Whatever his business had been in the city he had had plenty of time to +return to Grasslands and participate in the theft of the jewels. + +A continued watch of the house at 76 Gayle Street had shown that both +Miss Maitland and Price had been there on the Thursday previous and +Price on Sunday afternoon. Each had entered with noiseless haste and +each had used a latchkey. O’Malley in a search for a room had +interviewed the janitor, a grouchy old chap living in the basement; and +got a line on all the tenants, none of whom answered to the description +of Price or Miss Maitland. Of their visits to the house the man was +evidently ignorant, but he supplied some information which showed how +they could come and go without his cognizance. + +On July the eighth a lady, giving no name, had taken the right hand +front room on the top floor for a friend, Miss Agnes Brown, an art +student coming from the west but not yet arrived in the city. The lady +paid a month’s rent in advance, took the key, and said when Miss Brown +arrived, the janitor would be informed, but that she might be delayed +through illness in her family. This lady, as described by the janitor, +was beyond a doubt Esther Maitland. + +O’Malley was positive that the man honestly believed the room unused and +awaiting its occupant. He had seen no signs of habitation, heard no +sound from behind its closed door. Cooking was permitted in the house +and it was part of his business to sweep down the halls every morning +and empty the pails containing the food refuse which were placed outside +the doors. He had seen no pail, no milk bottles, and never at night, +when he went up to light the hall gas, had there been a gleam from the +transom of Miss Brown’s apartment. + +The room had been engaged by Esther Maitland the day after the robbery, +had been secured for a tenant who had not materialized. She had taken +the key herself and had visited the place, as Chapman Price had done. +Both had made their exits and entrances so carefully that the janitor +had no idea any one had ever been inside the door since the day it was +rented. + +After I’d heard all this I opened up with what I’d collected. The Chief +didn’t say much, which is his way when you come in with a new "twist," +but Mr. George wouldn’t have it, got quite peevish and said my +imagination had run away with me. + +"Do you think a girl in love with another man would have embroiled +herself with Price the way she has?" he snapped out. + +"I don’t know, Mr. George. I’m not ready to say yet what she’s done or +hasn’t done. No one can deny that things are dead against her. All I’m +sure of now is that she is in love with Mr. Ferguson and, that being the +case, I don’t think she’s the kind, guilty or innocent, who’d take up +with another man." + +"But you can’t base a conviction on a moment’s pantomime such as you +overlooked. The girl was probably angry at Mrs. Price’s manner. It can +be a deuced disagreeable manner; I’ve seen it." + +"She didn’t act like that—it wasn’t only anger—it was all sorts of +feelings." + +He couldn’t see it any way but his own and hammered at me. + +"But the whole structure’s built on the assumption of an affair between +her and Price. Do you think she’d steal for him, lie for him, hire a +room to meet him in, unless she was so crazy about him she was clay in +his hands?" + +"Mr. George," I said, dropping back in my chair sort of helpless but +still as obstinate as a government mule, "every word you say sounds like +sense and I’m not saying it isn’t. But while I’m not passing any +criticisms on you, in this kind of question, I’d back my own judgment +against any man’s that ever lived since Adam tried to throw the blame on +Eve." + +The Chief laughed like he was amused at the scrapping of two kids. + +"That’s right, Molly," he says, "don’t let him brow-beat you, stick to +your own opinion." + +"Well, what do _you_ think?" Mr. George turned to him all red and +ruffled up. "Isn’t she building up theories on the flimsiest kind of +foundation?" + +The Chief wouldn’t give him any satisfaction. + +"I’ll take a leaf out of her book," he said, "not pass any criticisms. +And I think we’re going on too fast. I expect to have Chapman here +himself in a day or two and ask some questions about that long ride on +the night of July the seventh. After that we’ll be on a firmer +footing—or we ought to be. Meantime, Molly, you go back to Grasslands. +Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut and if anything turns up let me +know." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV—A CHAPTER ABOUT BAD TEMPERS + + +Things were not going Mr. Larkin’s way. What had begun with such bright +promise was declining to a twilight uncertainty. The morning after his +ignominious failure with Willitts he had a letter from Suzanne, +forwarded from his New York office, telling him that she would be in +town on the following Monday and would like to see him. The letter +disturbed him greatly. It was not alone that he had nothing to report; +it was that the tone of the missive was irritated and impatient. It was +the angrily imperious summons of a lady who is disappointed in her +hireling. + +He packed up his things and left Cedar Brook—the collapse of his +endeavor there was complete—and at the hour appointed found Suzanne +waiting in the shaded reception room. Her words and manner showed him +how disagreeable a fine lady can be; they gave him a cold premonition +that his fat salary would end unless something distinct and definite was +soon forthcoming. In fact she hinted it; his assurances that interesting +developments were pending, that this sort of work was necessarily slow, +kindled no responsive enthusiasm in the crossly accusing eye she +fastened on him. His manner became almost pleading; he was on the edge +of discoveries, unquestionably he would have something to tell her by +the end of the week. At that she hung dubious, the angry eye less +disconcerting, and said she would be in town on Friday as she was going +to take her little girl to the oculist. + +Mr. Larkin hailed the announcement with a sleuth-like eagerness, but, as +if anxious to quench any little flicker of his spirit, she added +blightingly that she didn’t think it would be possible to see him as the +child would be with her. He grappled with the difficulty, displaying +both patience and resourcefulness, for Mrs. Price, in a bad temper, had +a talent for creating obstacles. + +Why, he suggested, couldn’t the little girl go to the oculist with her +nurse or companion and Mrs. Price be left, so to speak, free to roam? +Mrs. Price’s answer snapped with an angry click—that was of course what +she would do—she always did. _But_, Mr. Larkin did not suppose she took +the exhausting trip from Berkeley for nothing, did he? She had matters +to attend to herself, shops to go to, people to see; when they came into +town they were swamped, simply _swamped_, by what they had to do. She +depicted with a lively irritation their harried progress, the party +split into halves, one in a hired vehicle, one in the family motor, +passing through the marts of trade in a stampede of breathless shopping. +She rubbed it in, seemed to be intimating that he was attempting to +frustrate an overtaxed and weary woman in the accomplishment of gigantic +tasks. + +Mr. Larkin met the difficulties and kept his patience. It took a good +deal to finally reach a settlement which was obvious from the start. The +child and her companion could go on their errands and Suzanne could go +on hers, but be back before them. He could meet her at the house at any +hour she named and would leave before the return of the other half of +the party. He forced her to an admission that the plan was feasible, +though she gave it grudgingly, her manner still suggesting that if he +had conducted himself as a detective worthy of his hire she would not +have been put to so much trouble. She arranged to be at the house at +twelve which she calculated might give her half an hour alone with him. +Should there be any change of plans she would let him know, and she +_hoped_, with an accentuated glance, he would have something +satisfactory to tell her. + +His good temper unshaken, Mr. Larkin assured her he would and rose to +go. On the doorstep he mopped his forehead though the day was not warm, +also he swore softly as he descended the steps. + +A day or two after this, Chapman Price went to the Whitney office. He +had received a communication from them asking for an interview, the +ostensible subject of debate being Suzanne’s divorce. The suit would be +conducted at Reno where Mrs. Price would go in the autumn, but the +Whitneys, as the Janney lawyers, wanted to talk the matter over with Mr. +Price for the arranging of various financial details. + +These were quickly opened up for his attention by Wilbur Whitney, who, +with George, saw the young man in his private office. The ground of +divorce—non-support—was touched on with a tactful lightness. Mrs. Price +would of course ask for no alimony and so forth and so on. From that the +elder Whitney passed to the subject of the child; it was the desire of +its mother and grandparents that Chapman should relinquish all claim on +it. The young man listened, gloomy and scowling, now and then muttering +in angry repudiation. But the diplomatic arguments of the lawyer bore +down his opposition; he had to give in. The child ought to remain with +its mother, the natural guardian of its tender years; left entirely to +the Janneys it would be the eventual heiress of their great wealth, but +if Chapman antagonized them by a fight for its possession its prospects +might suffer. It was a persuasive appeal, made to Chapman’s parental +affections, the welfare of his daughter before his own. It brought him +to a sullen consent, and Wilbur Whitney, with a sound of approval, +pushed back his chair, elated as by a good work done. + +Price rose, his face flushed and frowning. That he was resentful was +plain to be seen, but he had himself in hand, inquiring with a sardonic +politeness if that was all they wanted of him. The elder Whitney with a +hospitable gesture toward the empty chair, said no, there were some +questions he’d like to ask, nothing of any especial moment and on an +entirely different matter. + +"Mrs. Janney," he explained, "has suggested that we make a separate, +private investigation of the robbery. She’s lost faith in Kissam, who +hasn’t done anything but draw his pay envelope and wants us to see what +we can do. So we’ve been clearing up a lot of dead wood, looking into +the movements of the people in the house and the neighborhood that +night." + +Price, who had remained standing, turned his eyes on the speaker in a +gaze that had a quality of sudden fixed attention. + +"Oh," he said, in a tone containing a note of hostile comprehension, "so +_you’re_ in it, are you?" + +"Yes; we’re in it—only a little way so far. We’ve been rounding up every +one that has, or has had, any dealings with the family and we’ve taken +you in in the sweep." + +"_Me?_" Price’s voice showed an intense surprise. "What have I got to do +with it?" + +"Nothing, my dear boy, except that you _were_ a member of the household, +and as I said, we’re clearing up every one in sight. It’s only a +formality, a tagging and disposing of all unnecessary elements. You went +for a motor ride that night—a long ride. You wouldn’t mind telling us +where, would you? It’s just for the purpose of eliminating you along +with the rest of the dead wood." + +The young man’s gaze dropped from Whitney’s face to his own hat lying on +the table. He looked at it with an absent stare. + +"A motor ride?" he murmured. + +"Yes, from eight-thirty till nearly two." + +"Um," Price appeared to be considering. "Let me see—what was the date, I +don’t remember?" + +George assisted his memory: + +"July the seventh—a moonlight night." + +"Ah," he had it now, nodding his head several times in restored +recollection. "Of course, I remember perfectly. There was a heavy rain +early in the evening and then a full moon." He turned to the elder man. +"I’m rather fond of ranging about at night, and couldn’t quite place +what especial ride you referred to. I took a long spin up the Island." + +"Up?" said Whitney, "not being a Long Islander I don’t know your +directions. Would ’up’ mean toward the city?" + +"No, the other way, out along the Sound roads and on toward Peconic." + +"Kept to the country, eh? Too fine a night to waste in town." + +Price’s face darkened. George watching him noticed a slight dilation of +his nostrils, a slight squaring of the line of his jaw. His answer came +in a tone hard and combative: + +"Exactly. I get enough of town in the day. I rode, as I told you, out to +the east, a long way—I can’t give you the exact route if that’s what you +want." He suddenly leaned forward and snatched his hat from the table. +Holding it against his side he made an ironical bow to his questioner +said, "Does _that_ eliminate me as a suspect?" + +Whitney laughed, a sound of lazy good humor rich with the tolerance of a +vast experience: + +"My dear Chapman, why use such sensational terms? Suspect is a word we +haven’t reached yet. Take this as it’s meant—a form, merely a form." + +"The form might have included a questioning of me before you took the +trouble to look up what I did. Evidently my word wasn’t thought +sufficient." + +His glance, darkly threatening, moved from one man to the other. George +started to protest, but he cut in, his words directed at old Whitney: + +"It’s all I have to offer you now. It’s what I say against what you’ve +been told to believe. I can prove no alibi, for I was with no one, saw +no one, started alone and stayed alone. That’s all you’ll get out of me, +and you can take it or leave it as you d——n please." + +He turned and walked toward the door, the elder Whitney’s conciliatory +phrases delivered to his back. The door knob in his hand he wheeled +round, the anger he had been struggling to subdue fierce in his face: + +"Don’t think for a moment you’ve fooled me. I was ignorant when I came +in here, but I’m on to the whole dirty business now. I see through this +pussy-footing round the divorce. It’s the Janneys—the blow in the back I +might have known was coming. They’ve got my child, set you on to wheedle +her out of me. But that wasn’t enough—they’re going to try and finish +the good work—put me out of business so there’s no more trouble coming +from me. Brand me as a thief—that’s their game, is it? Well—they’ve gone +too far. I’ve held my hand up to this but now I’ll let loose. They’ll +see! By God, they’ll see that I can hit back blow for blow." + + + + +CHAPTER XV—WHAT HAPPENED ON FRIDAY + + +The Friday morning when Suzanne was to go to town broke auspiciously +bright and cloudless. As Annie was not the proper person to take Bébita +to the oculist, and as Suzanne would be too busy to go herself, Miss +Maitland had been impressed into the service. It had been decided two +days earlier, and though she had received some instructions at the time, +on the drive in, Mrs. Price went over her plans with a meticulous +thoroughness. They would go first to the Fifth Avenue house, pick up +there some clothes of Bébita’s needing alteration, and then separate. +Esther would take a cab from the rank on the side street, and go with +Bébita to the oculist, to the dressmaker with the clothes, and execute +several minor commissions in shops along the Avenue. Bébita begged for a +box of caramels from Justin’s, the French confectioner, a request which +was graciously acceded to by her mother, Miss Maitland jotting it down +on her list. Mrs. Price would take the motor and go about her own +affairs, which would occupy probably an hour. She would then return to +the house and wait for them—for she would have finished before they +did—and afterward they would go out to lunch somewhere. She said she +thought it would be fully an hour and a half before they got back and +Miss Maitland, eyeing the long list, said it might be even longer. + +Aggie McGee had the clothes tied up in a box and Suzanne and Bébita +stood on the steps waiting while Miss Maitland went for the cab. The +rank was just round the corner and in a few minutes she came back with a +taxi running along the curb behind her. + +"Quite a piece of luck to find one," she said, as she took the box. +"They’re not always there in the dead season." + +Bébita jumped in, settling herself with joyful prancings and waving a +little white-gloved hand. Esther followed, snapped the door shut, and +they glided away. Suzanne watched them go, then stepped into the big +motor and was swept off in the opposite direction. + +She came back before the hour was up. She had hurried as she wanted to +have done with Larkin before they returned. It would be extremely +uncomfortable if they found her in confab with the detective; it would +necessitate boring explanations and the inventing of lies. + +She sat down in the reception room close to the window, pulled up the +blind and waited. Drawn back from the eyes of passers-by she could +command the sidewalk and the street for some distance and if, by any +evil chance, Larkin should be late, she could see him coming and tell +Aggie McGee to say she was not there. + +Up to now Larkin had been punctual to the dot, but on this, the one +occasion when punctuality was vital, he was not on time. Twelve passed, +then the quarter, and the sun-swept length of the great avenue gave up +no masculine figure that bore any resemblance to him. She was growing +nervous, wondering what she had better do, when he hove in sight walking +quickly toward the house. A glance at her wrist watch told her it was +twenty minutes past twelve—Miss Maitland and Bébita might not be back +for another half hour yet. She would chance it, for she was extremely +anxious to see him, and anyway, if they should come in before he left, +she could tell him to go into the drawing room and slip out after they +had gone. Relieved by the decision she rose and was turning toward the +mirror, when she caught sight of a taxi scudding up the street with +Esther Maitland’s face in the window. + +A word not generally used by ladies escaped Suzanne. There was nothing +for it but to send him away. She ran into the hall and pressed the bell, +listening in a fever for Aggie McGee’s step on the kitchen stairs. +Simultaneously with its first heavy thud came the peal of the front door +bell. Suzanne, who had noticed that the taxi was moving fast and would +make the steps before Larkin, called down on Aggie McGee’s ascending +head: + +"That’s Miss Maitland. A gentleman I expected is just behind her. I +can’t see him now, I haven’t time. Tell him I’ve been here and gone." + +She went back into the reception room and stood listening. She heard the +door opening, Esther’s step in the hall; it was all right, the detective +would get his congé without being seen by any one but Aggie McGee. She +drew a breath of relief and turned smiling to the girl in the doorway. +Miss Maitland did not give back the smile; she sent a searching look +over the room and said in a low, breathless voice as if she had been +running: + +"Is Bébita here?" + +There was a moment of silence. Through it the heavy tread of Aggie McGee +passing along the hall sounded unnaturally loud. As it went clump, +clump, down the kitchen stairs Suzanne was aware of Miss Maitland’s +face, startlingly strange, ashen-colored. At first it was all she took +in. + +"Bébita—here?" she stammered. "How could she be? She’s with you." + +Miss Maitland made a step into the room, her hands went up clenched to +her chest, her voice came again through the broken gasps of a runner: + +"No—she isn’t. I thought I’d find her with you—I thought she’d come +back. Oh, Mrs. Price—" she stopped, her eyes, telling a message of +disaster, fixed on the other. + +Suzanne’s answer came from opened lips, dropped apart in a sudden +horror: + +"What do you mean? Why should she be here?" + +"Mrs. Price, something’s happened!" + +Suzanne screamed out: + +"Where is she?" + +"I don’t know—but—but—I haven’t got her—she’s gone. Mrs. Price—" + +Suzanne screamed again, putting her hands against the sides of her head, +her face, between them, a livid mask. + +"Gone—gone where? Is she dead?" + +The girl shook her head, swallowing on a throat dried to a leathern +stiffness: + +"No—no—nothing like that. But—the taxi—it went, disappeared while I was +in Justin’s. I was in there buying the candy and when I came out it was +gone. I looked everywhere; I couldn’t believe it; I thought she’d come +back here—run away from me for a joke." + +Suzanne, holding the sides of her head, stared like a mad woman, then +gave a piercing cry, thin and high, a wild, dolorous sound. Only the +solidity of the house prevented it from penetrating to the lower regions +where Aggie McGee and her aunt were comfortably lunching. + +"Listen, Mrs. Price." Esther took her hands and drew them down. "The +driver may have made a mistake, taken her somewhere else—he couldn’t—" + +Suzanne shrieked in sudden frenzy: + +"She’s been stolen—my baby’s been stolen!" + +For a second they looked at one another, each pallid face confessing its +conviction of the grisly thought. Esther tried to speak, the sentences +dropping disconnected: + +"If it’s that then—then—it’s some one who knows you’re rich—some +one—they’ll want money. They’ll give her up for money—Oh, Mrs. Price, I +looked—I hunted—" + +Suzanne’s voice came in a suddenly strangled whisper: + +"It’s you—It’s your fault! You’ve let them steal my baby. You’ve done +it! You’ll be put in jail." + +With the words issuing from her mouth she staggered and crumpled into a +limpness of fiberless flesh and trailing garments. Esther put an arm +about her and drew her to the sofa. Here she collapsed amid the +cushions, her eyes open, moans coming from her shaking lips. Esther +knelt beside her: + +"Mrs. Price, it’s horrible, but try to keep up, don’t break down this +way. No one would dare to do anything to her. If she’s been stolen it’s +to the interest of the person who did it to keep her safe. We’ll find +her in a day or two. Your mother, her position, her power—she’ll do +something, she’ll get her back." + +Suzanne rolling her head on the cushion, groaned: + +"Oh, my baby! Oh, Bébita!" Then burst into wild tears and disjointed +sentences. She was almost unintelligible, cries to heaven, wails for her +child, accusations of the woman at her feet broke from her in a torrent. +Once she struck at the girl with a feeble fist. + +There was no help to be got from her and Esther rose. She spoke more to +herself than the anguished creature on the sofa: + +"We can’t waste time this way. I’ll call up Grasslands and ask what to +do." + +The telephone was in the hall and, as she waited for the connection, she +could hear the sounds of the mother’s misery beating on the house’s rich +silence. Then Dixon’s voice brought her faculties into quick order. She +wanted to speak to Mrs. Janney herself, at once, it was important. There +followed what seemed an endless wait, and then Mrs. Janney. When she had +mastered it, her voice came, sharp and incisive: + +"Hold the wire, I have to speak to Mr. Janney." + +Another wait, through which, faint as the shadows of sound, Esther could +hear the tiny echo of voices, then the jar of an approaching step and a +man answered: + +"Hello, Miss Maitland, this is Ferguson. I’ve orders from Mrs. Janney—Go +straight down to the Whitney office, tell them what’s happened and put +the thing in their hands. Say nothing to anybody else. Mr. and Mrs. +Janney are starting to go in. They’ll be in town as quickly as they can +get there and will meet you at the office. Got that straight? All right. +Good-by." + +She cogitated a moment, then called up the Whitney office getting +George. She gave him a brief outline of what had occurred and told him +she would be there with Mrs. Price within a half hour. + +Back in the reception room she tried to arouse Suzanne, but the +distracted woman did not seem to have sense left to take in anything. At +the sound of Esther’s voice her sobs and wails rose hysterical, and the +girl, finding it impossible to make her understand, set about preparing +her for the drive. Any word of hers appeared to make Suzanne’s state +worse, so silently, as if she were dressing a manikin, she pinned the +hat to the disordered blonde hair, draped a motor veil over it, composed +the rumpled skirts, gathered up her purse and gloves, and finally, an +arm crooked round one of Suzanne’s, got her out to the motor. + +On the long drive downtown almost nothing was said. The roar of the +surrounding traffic drowned the sounds of weeping that now and then rose +from the veiled figure, which Esther held firm and upright by the +pressure of her shoulder. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI—MOLLY’S STORY + + +That Friday—gee, shall I ever forget it!—opening so quiet and natural +and suddenly bang, in the middle of it, the sort of thing you read in +the yellow press. + +It was a holiday for me and I was sitting in the upper hall alcove +making a blouse and handy to the extension ’phone. Now and then it would +ring and I’d pull it over with a weary sigh and hear a female voice full +of cultivation and airs ask if Mrs. Janney’d take a hand at bridge, or a +male one want to know what Mr. Janney thought about eighteen holes at +golf. + +It was on for one when it rang again and with a smothered groan—for I +was putting on the collar—I jerked it over. _Believe me_, I forgot that +blouse! Stiff, like I was turned to stone, I sat there listening, +hearing them come, one after another, getting every word of it. When +they were through I got up, feeling sort of gone in the middle, and lit +out for the stairs. I couldn’t have kept away—Bébita disappeared! +"Kidnapped!" I said to myself as I ran along the hall. "Kidnapped! +that’s what it is—it’s only poor children that get lost." + +On the stairs I met Mrs. Janney coming up on the run. It wasn’t the +speed that made her breath short; but she was on the job, the grand old +Roman, with her mouth as straight as the slit in a post box and her face +as hard as if it was cut out of granite. + +"Go down there," she said, giving a jerk of her head toward the hall +below. "Sit there and wait. Something’s happened and you may be useful." + +I went on down and took a seat. Outside on the balcony I could see Mr. +Janney, wandering about with a hunted look. From the telephone closet +came Ferguson’s voice telling his chauffeur to bring his car to +Grasslands, now, this minute, and enough gasoline for a long run. Then +he came out, hooked an armful of coats off the hall rack, and ran past +me on to the balcony. He gave the coats to Mr. Janney, who stood holding +them, looking after Ferguson wherever he went and quavering questions at +him. I don’t think Ferguson answered them, but he pulled one of the +coats out of the old man’s arms and put him into it, quick and +efficient. When the motor came up he tried to make Mr. Janney get in, +but he wouldn’t, standing there, helpless and pitiful, and calling out +for Mrs. Janney. + +"I’m here, Sam," came her voice from the stairs and she scudded by where +I was sitting, tying her motor veil over her hat. She seemed to have +forgotten me and I followed her out on to the balcony, not knowing what +she wanted me to do. As I stood there Ferguson’s big car came shooting +up the drive. + +She climbed quickly into her own motor, waiting at the bottom of the +steps, Mr. Janney scrambled in after her and Ferguson threw a rug over +them. They were just starting when she looked up and saw me. + +"Oh," she cried, leaning across the old man, "we’ll want you—you must +come." + +Mr. Janney stared bewildered at her and said: + +"Why—why should _she_ come?" + +"Keep quiet, Sam," then over her shoulder to Ferguson as the car began +to move, "Bring Mrs. Babbitts, Dick. Take her with you." + +The car glided off, Mr. Janney’s voice floating back: + +"But why, why—why do you want _her_?" + +Ferguson’s motor swung round the oval and came to a halt. The chauffeur +jumped out, and, told he wasn’t wanted, disappeared. The young man +turned to me, not a smile out of him now. + +"Come on, get in," he said and then giving a nod at one of the coats +lying over a chair, "and bring that with you—it may blow up cold and +it’s a long run." + +I did as I was told—there was something about him that made you do what +he said—and jumped in. He came on my heels, snapped the door and we +started. Before we got to the gates he speeded the machine up and in a +few minutes we were close on the Janney motor which was flying along the +woody road at a pace that would have strained the heart of a bicycle +cop. Their dust came over us in a cloud, and Mr. Ferguson slowed down, +and, his hand resting easy on the wheel, said: + +"What does Mrs. Janney want you for?" + +I’d hoped he hadn’t noticed that, but in case he had I’d an answer +ready. + +"Maybe she thought I might have noticed if any one was hanging round +lately—hanging round to size up the habits of the family and Bébita’s +movements." + +"Oh," he said, looking at me very pointed, "then you know what’s +happened to Bébita." + +I hadn’t any answer ready for _that_. I had to get hold of something +quick and as you will do when you’re taken off your guard, I got hold of +a lie: + +"I met Mrs. Janney on the stairs and she told me." + +"That’s funny," he says, sort of thoughtful. "Before she went she told +both Mr. Janney and myself that no one in the house must hear a word of +it." + +I began to get red, and for a moment, stared at my feet pressed side by +side on the wood in front of me. It didn’t make it any pleasanter to +know that Ferguson was looking at me, intent and narrow, out of the tail +of his eye. + +"I guess she was so excited she forgot and just blabbed it out." + +It was the best I could do, but it was poor stuff. If you knew Mrs. +Janney you’d see why. + +"Um," said Ferguson, and took a look ahead at the cloud of dust that hid +the other car. Then he comes out with another: + +"I wonder if that was the reason she called you Mrs. Babbitts?" + +I took a good breath from the bottom of my lungs and said: + +"I shouldn’t be surprised. Having your grandchild lost is enough to mix +up any woman." + +He didn’t answer and we ran on some way, out of the woods on to a long +straight stretch of road. The motor in front was going at a tremendous +clip, Mrs. Janney’s veil lashing out like a wild hand beckoning us on. + +"Look here," says Ferguson, soft and gentle right into my ear, "what +_are_ you, anyway?" + +"Me?" I bounced round and gave him a baby stare. "I’m a governess. What +do you think I am?" + +"You may be a good governess but you’re a poor liar. I was in the +telephone closet and heard what Mrs. Janney said to you on the stairs. +And I don’t think you’re a governess at all—you’re a detective." + +I thought a minute but what was the use, he had me. So I raised up my +chin and met him, eye for eye: + +"All right, I am. What of it?" + +"Oh, lots of it. I’ve had my suspicions for some time. You tapped that +'phone message from New York?" + +"I did—it’s my job. I have to do it." + +"Don’t apologize—it wastes time and we haven’t any to lose. Now just +tell me Miss Rogers, or Mrs. Babbitts, what have you found out about the +robbery; where were you getting to before this hideous mess to-day?" + +"Well, you’ve got your nerve with you!" I snorted. + +"I have, right here handy. I’m a friend of the Janneys, I’m a—" he +stopped. His nerve was handy all right but he hadn’t enough to tell me +it was because of Esther Maitland he was so keen. + +"Go on," I said sarcastic. "I’m interested to hear what _you_ are now +you’ve found out what I am." + +"I’m almost a member of the household. I can help. I want to help—and I +want to know." + +"Maybe you do," I said. "We often want things in this world that we +can’t get. Don’t think you have the monopoly of that complaint." + +The motor rose over the crest of a hill, flashed by a farm and slid down +an incline. Before us stretched a white line of road, with the forward +car racing along it in a blur of dust. + +"You mean you won’t tell me?" + +"You got me." + +We suddenly began to slow up, the car swung off sideways from the +roadbed, ran toward the bushes on the right, and came to a halt. +Ferguson dropped against the back of the seat, stretched his legs and +said: + +"This is a nice shady place to stop in." + +"Stop!" I cried. "Forget it! What do you want to stop for?" + +"I don’t—it’s you. I’m going to rest here quietly while you tell me." + +"Young man," I said, fixing him with a cold eye, "this is no time to be +funny." + +"I entirely agree with you. Therefore as we’re of the same mind it +behooves you to get busy and give me the information I want." + +The coolness of him would have riled a hen. It did me; I gave a stamp on +the footboard and angrily said: + +"Start up this machine. I was ordered to go to New York and I’ve got to +get there." + +"You will as soon as you tell me. But I won’t move until you do. We’ll +stay here all day, all night if necessary. There’s just one thing +certain: we’ll stay till I hear what I want to know." + +I was beaten and it made me mad straight through. I was helpless too and +that made me madder. If I’d had the least notion of how you started the +dinged machine I was angry enough to have tried to do it, though it +wouldn’t have been any use with Ferguson there to frustrate me. + +"You’re losing time," said he. "There’ll be trouble if you don’t show +up." + +"Do you think it’s a high class thing," I snapped out, "to put a girl in +a position like this?" + +"Don’t _you_ think you can trust me?" he answered very quiet. + +I looked at him, a long, slow survey, and as I did it my anger simmered +down. It’s part of my business to read faces and what I saw in his made +me say sort of reluctant: + +"Well, maybe I can." + +He leaned forward and put his hand on mine. + +"Miss Rogers, if you’ll stand in with me, trust me and let me help, you +won’t make any mistake. For I’ll stand in with you, not now, not just +for this thing, but for always. You’ve my word on it and I don’t break +my word." + +That ended it—not what he said but the look of him while he said it. +Almost without knowing it my hand turned under his and they clasped. +Solemn as a pair of images we shook. Any one passing would have thought +we were crazy, backed into the brushwood, side by side on the front +seat, shaking hands as if we’d just been introduced. + +I told him the whole story and he never said a word. When I came to Miss +Maitland’s part in it, I couldn’t but look at him. He drew his eyebrows +down in a frown and fiddled with his fingers on the wheel. Even when I +told him what they thought about her and Chapman Price he didn’t made a +sound, but he straightened up, and drew a deep breath like he wanted +more air in his lungs. I got it some way then—I can’t exactly say +how—that he was a good deal more of a person than I’d guessed—a lot more +iron in his make-up than I’d thought when I liked his laugh and his +boyish, jolly ways. + +When I finished he said, easy and cool: + +"Thank you—that gives me just what I wanted. You won’t regret having +told me. As for Whitney & Whitney, they won’t say anything. They’re my +lawyers—known ’em all my life. I’ll take care of that." + +He took hold of the wheel and the car backed out into the road. + +"Can we ever catch them up?" I asked. + +"I guess so—this car can make seventy-five miles an hour. Are you game +for a race?" + +"I’m game for anything that’ll land me where I belong." + +"All right—hold on to your hat." + +I guess the Lord protects those who are bent on His own business. Anyway +I don’t know why else we weren’t killed. We ate up that road like a dago +eating macaroni; it ran under the car like a white ribbon fastened to a +spindle somewhere behind us. The woods were two green streaks on either +side, and now and then a chuck hole would send me bouncing, landing +anywhere—on the floor once. + +"Hold on to something," he shouted at me. "I don’t want to lose you." + +And I shouted back: + +"You couldn’t. I’m wished on to this motor till death do us part or it +lands me somewhere alive." + +Through the villages we had to slow up. Gliding dignified along the +tree-shaded streets put me into a fever and I guess it wore on him for +more than once I heard him muttering to himself, and believe me, he +wasn’t saying his prayers. I glimpsed sideways at him, and saw his +tanned face, with the hair loose and tousled by the wind, looking +changed, hardened and older, all the gay expression gone. The news he’d +forced out of me had hit him a body blow, struck him in the heart. And I +was sorry, awfully sorry. You can hurt a mean person or a criminal and +not care, but it’s no lady’s job to have to wound a decent man. That’s +why I’d never make a good professional—the people get as big as the case +to me, and if you’re the real thing it’s only the case that counts. + +We were almost in Long Island City when we caught up with the Janneys, +Mrs. Janney’s veil still waving like a hand beckoning us to hurry. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII—MISS MAITLAND IN A NEW LIGHT + + +At the entrance of the great building which housed the Whitney office +the two motors came to a halt. Ferguson went in with the others saying +he would see if he could be of any use, and if he was not wanted would +return to the street level and wait. In the elevator Mr. Janney, who had +been informed en route of Molly’s real status, eyed her morosely, but +when the car stopped forgot everything but the urgencies of the moment, +and crowded out, tremulous and stumbling, on his wife’s heels. + +They were met by Wilbur Whitney who in a large efficient way, +distributed them:—Ferguson was sent back to the street to wait, Molly +waved to a chair in the hall, and the old people conducted up the +passage to his private office. In a room opening from it Suzanne lay +stretched on a sofa, restoratives and stimulants at hand, and a girl +stenographer to fan her. She had revolted against the presence of +Esther, who had been removed from her sight and shut in the sanctum of a +junior partner. + +Mrs. Janney went in to see her and the old man fell upon Whitney. It was +Price’s doing—they were certain of it, his wife had said so at once. He +was bound to get back at them some way, he’d said he would—he’d left +Grasslands swearing vengeance, and had been only waiting his +opportunity. The lawyer nodded in understanding agreement and, Mrs. +Janney returning, they drew up to the table and conferred in low voices. + +What Whitney said confirmed the Janneys’ belief. He told of his +interview with Price; the man’s anger and threats. Nevertheless he was +of the opinion that the plot to kidnap the child had not been undertaken +in sudden passion, but had probably been for some time germinating in +Chapman’s mind. The news of Bébita’s loss, telephoned to the office by +Miss Maitland, while it had shocked, had not altogether surprised him, +though he had hardly thought the young man’s desire to get square would +have carried him to such lengths. Immediately after Esther’s +communication, George had telephoned to Price’s office receiving the +answer that he was not there but could probably be found at the +Hartleys’ at Cedar Brook. From the Hartleys they had learned that Mr. +Price was in town, and had sent word that morning he would not come out +this week-end. + +There were other circumstances which the lawyer said pointed to Price. +These they could hear from Mrs. Babbitts who had made some important +discoveries. He rose to send for her, but Mrs. Janney stayed him with a +gesture—before they went into that she would like to see Miss Maitland +and hear from her exactly what had occurred. Mr. Whitney, suavely +agreeable, sent a summons for Esther, then softly closed the door into +the room where Suzanne lay. + +"Mrs. Price is very bitter against her," he said in explanation. + +Mrs. Janney, too wrought up for polite hypocrisies, said brusquely: + +"Oh, that’s exactly like Suzanne. She has no balance at all. Of course +we can’t blame Miss Maitland—it’s not her fault." + +Mr. Whitney dropped back into his revolving desk chair and swung it +toward her with a lurch of his body: + +"She tells a very clear story—extremely clear. I’ll let you get your own +impression of it and then we’ll have a talk with Mrs. Babbitts and you +can see—" + +A knock on the door interrupted him; in answer to his "Come in," Esther +entered. She halted a moment on the threshold, her eyes touching the +faces of her employers questioningly, as if she was not sure of her +reception. But Mrs. Janney’s quick, "Oh, Miss Maitland, I want to see +you," brought her across the sill. Though she looked harassed and +distressed, her manner showed a restrained composure. She took a chair +facing them, meeting their glances with a steady directness. Mrs. +Janney’s demand for information was promptly answered; indeed her +narrative was so devoid of unnecessary detail, so confined to +essentials, that it suggested something gone over and put in readiness +for the telling. + +She had taken Bébita to the dressmaker and the oculist, the child +accompanying her into both places. At the third stop, Justin’s, she had +persuaded Bébita to stay in the taxi. She had left it at the curb and +had not been more than ten minutes in the store. When she came out it +was gone. She had spent some time looking for it, searched up and down +the street, and, though she was frightened, she could not believe +anything had happened. Her idea had been that Bébita, tired of waiting +or wanting to play a joke on her, had prevailed on the driver to return +to the Fifth Avenue house. She had hailed a cab and gone back there and +it was not till she saw Mrs. Price that she realized the real extent of +the calamity. Mrs. Price had been utterly overwhelmed, and, not knowing +what else to do, she had called up Grasslands for instructions. + +Mr. Janney, who had been twisting and turning on his chair, burst out +with: + +"The man—the driver—did you notice him?" + +She lifted her hands and dropped them in her lap. + +"Oh, Mr. Janney, _of course_ I didn’t. Does any one _ever_ look at those +men? He never got off his seat, opened the door by stretching his arm +round from the front. I have a sort of vague memory of his face when I +called him off the stand, and I think—but I can’t be sure—that he wore +goggles." + +"It’s needless to ask if you remember the number," Mrs. Janney said. + +The girl answered with a hopeless shake of the head. + +"You say you ran about looking for the taxi"—it was Mr. Janney +again—"Why did you waste that time?" + +"Mr. Janney," she leaned toward him insistent, but with patience for his +afflicted state, "I thought it had gone somewhere farther along. You +know how they won’t let the vehicles stand in Fifth Avenue. I supposed +it was down the block or round the corner on a side street. I asked the +doorman but he hadn’t noticed. I looked in every direction and even when +I finally gave up and went after her I hadn’t an idea that she’d been +_stolen_." + +"Time lost—all that time lost!" wailed the old man and began to cry. + +"Come, come, Mr. Janney," said Whitney, "don’t despond. It’s not as bad +as all that, and I’m pretty confident we’ll have her back all right +before very long." + +Mr. Janney, with his face in his handkerchief, emitted sounds that no +one could understand. His wife silenced him with a peremptory, "Be +quiet, Sam," and returned to Miss Maitland: + +"You say you dissuaded her from going into Justin’s. Why did you do +that?" + +For the first time the girl lost her even poise. As she answered her +voice was unsteady: "We were so pressed for time and I knew I could get +through much quicker without her. That’s why I did it—begged her to stay +in the taxi and she said she would,"—she stopped, biting on her under +lip, evidently unable to go on. + +There was a moment’s silence broken by Mrs. Janney’s voice low and grim: + +"The man heard you and knew that was his chance." + +Miss Maitland, her eyes down, the bitten lip showing red against its +fellow, said huskily: + +"You must blame me—you can’t help it—but I’d rather have died than had +such a thing happen." + +Mr. Janney began to give forth inarticulate sounds again and his wife +said with a sort of dreary resignation: + +"Oh, I don’t blame you, Miss Maitland. Nobody does. Mrs. Price is not +responsible; she doesn’t know what she’s saying." + +"Of course, of course," came in Whitney’s deep, bland voice, "we all +understand Mrs. Price’s feelings—quite natural under the circumstances. +And Miss Maitland’s too." He rose and pressed a bell near the door. "Now +if you’ve heard all you want I’ll call in George and we’ll talk this +over. And Miss Maitland," he turned to her, urbanely kind and courteous, +"could I trouble you to go back to Mr. Quincy’s office; just for a +little while? We won’t keep you waiting very long this time." + +A very dapper young man had answered the summons and under his escort +Esther withdrew. Whitney went to a third door connecting with his son’s +rooms, opened it and said in a low voice: + +"George, go and get Molly. We’re ready for her now." + +Coming back, he stood for a moment by the desk, and swept the faces of +his clients with a meaning look: + +"What you’re going to hear from Mrs. Babbitts will be something of a +shock. She’s unearthed several rather startling facts that in my opinion +bear on this present event and what led up to it. It’s a peculiar +situation and involves not only Price but Miss Maitland." + +Mrs. Janney stared: + +"Miss Maitland and Chapman! What sort of a situation?" + +"At this stage I’ll simply say mysterious. But I’m afraid, my dear +friend, that your confidence in the young woman has been misplaced. +However, before I go any further I’ll let you hear what Mrs. Babbitts +has to say and draw your own conclusions." + +What Mrs. Babbitts had to say came not as one shock but as a series. +Mrs. Janney could not at first believe it; she had to be shown the notes +of the telephone message, and dropped them in her lap, staring from her +husband to Wilbur Whitney in aghast question. Mr. Janney seemed stunned, +shrunk in his clothes like a turtle in its shell. It was not until the +lawyer, alluding to the loss of the jewels, mentioned Miss Maitland’s +possible participation either as the actual thief or as an accomplice, +that he displayed a suddenly vitalized interest. His body stretched +forward, and his neck craned up from its collar gave him more than ever +the appearance of a turtle reaching out of its shell, his voice coming +with a stammering urgency: + +"But—but—no one can be sure. We mustn’t be too hasty. We can’t condemn +the girl without sufficient evidence. Some one else may have been there +and—" + +Mrs. Janney shut him off with an exasperated impatience: + +"Oh, Sam, don’t go back over all that. I don’t care who took them; I +don’t care if I never see them again. It’s only the child that matters." +Then to Whitney the inconsequential disposed of, "We must make a move at +once, but we must do it quietly without anything getting into the +papers." + +Whitney nodded: + +"That’s my idea." + +"What are you going to do—go directly to him?" + +"No, not yet. Our first step will be made as you suggest, very quietly. +We’re going to keep the matter out of the papers and away from the +police. Keep it to ourselves—do it ourselves. And I think—I don’t want +to raise any false hopes—but I think we can lay our hands on Bébita +to-night." + +"How—where?" Mr. Janney’s head was thrust forward, his blurred eyes +alight. + +"If you don’t mind, I’m not going to tell you. I’m going to ask you to +leave it to me and let me see if my surmises are correct. If Chapman has +her where I think he has, I’ll give her over to you by ten o’clock. If +I’m mistaken it will only mean a short postponement. He can’t keep her +and he knows it." + +"The blackguard!" groaned the old man in helpless wrath. + +Mrs. Janney wasted neither time nor energy in futile passion. She +attacked another side of the situation. + +"What are we to do with Miss Maitland? You can’t arrest her." + +"Certainly not. She’s a very important person and we must have her under +our eye. You must treat her as if you entirely exonerated her from all +blame—maintain the attitude you took just now when talking with her. If +my immediate plan should fail our best chance of getting Bébita without +publicity and an ugly scandal will be through her. She must have no hint +of what we think, must believe herself unsuspected, and free to come and +go as she pleases." + +"You mean she’s to stay on with us?" Mr. Janney’s voice was high with +indignant protest. + +"Exactly—she remains the trusted employee with whose painful position +you sympathize. It won’t be difficult, for you won’t see much of her. +You’ll naturally stay here in town till Bébita is found. What I intend +to do with her is to send her back to Grasslands with a competent +jailer—" he paused and pointed where Molly sat, silent and almost +forgotten. + +For a moment the Janneys eyed her, questioning and dubious, then Mrs. +Janney voiced their mutual thought: + +"Is Mrs. Babbitts, alone, a sufficient guard?" + +The lawyer smiled. + +"Quite. Miss Maitland doesn’t want to run away. She knows too much for +that. No position could be better for our purpose than to leave +her—apparently unsuspected—alone in that big house. She will be +confident, possibly take chances." He turned on Molly, glowering at her +from under his overhanging brows. "The safest and quickest means of +communication with Grasslands, when the family is in town and the +servants ignorant of the situation, would be the telephone." + +That ended the conference. Mrs. Janney went to get Suzanne and Molly +received her final instructions. She was to return to Grasslands with +Miss Maitland, Ferguson could take them in his motor. She was to sit in +the back seat with the lady and casually drop the information that she +had come to town in answer to a wire from the Whitney office. She might +have seen suspicious characters lurking about the grounds or in the +woods. On no account was she to let her companion guess that Price was +suspected, and any remarks which might place the young woman more +completely at her ease, allay all sense of danger, would be valuable. + +They left the room and went into the entrance hall where Esther, and +presently Mrs. Janney, joined them. Whitney struck the note of a +reassuring friendliness in his manner to the girl, and the old people, +rather reservedly chimed in. She seemed grateful, thanked them, +reiterating her distress. In the elevator, going down, Molly noticed +that she fell into a staring abstraction, starting nervously as the iron +gate swung back at the ground floor. + +Ferguson, waiting on the curb, saw them as they emerged from the +doorway. His eyes leaped at the girl, and, as she crossed the sidewalk, +were riveted on her. Their expression was plain, yearning and passion no +longer disguised. If she saw the look she gave no sign, nodded to him, +and, leaving Molly to explain, climbed into the back seat and sunk in a +corner. Though the afternoon was hot she picked up the cloak lying on +the floor and drew it round her shoulders. + +The drive home was very silent. Molly gave the prescribed reasons for +her presence and heard them answered with the brief comments of +inattention. She also touched on the other matters and found her +companion so unresponsive that she desisted. It was evident that Esther +Maitland wanted to be left to her own thoughts. Huddled in the cloak, +her eyes fixed on the road in front, she sat as silent and enigmatic as +a sphinx. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII—THE HOUSE IN GAYLE STREET + + +The Janney party left the office soon after Molly and Esther. They had +decided to stay at the St. Boniface hotel where rooms had already been +engaged, and, with Suzanne swathed in veils and clinging to her mother’s +arm, they were escorted to the elevator and cheered on their way by the +two Whitneys. When the car slid out of sight the father and the son went +back into the old man’s room. + +It was now late afternoon, the sun, sinking in a fiery glow, glazed the +waters of the bay, seen from these high windows like a golden floor. The +day, which had opened fresh and cool, had grown unbearably hot; even +here, far above the street’s stifling level, the air was breathless. The +men, starting the electric fans, sat down to talk things over and wait. +For the machinery of "the move" spoken of by Wilbur Whitney already had +been set in motion. + +Immediately after Esther’s telephone message O’Malley had been called up +and, with an assistant, dispatched to watch the Gayle Street house. As +Whitney had told his clients, the news of the child’s disappearance had +hardly surprised him. Chapman’s anger and threats portended some violent +action of reprisal, and, even as the lawyer had questioned what form it +might take, came the answer. Chapman had stolen his own child and had a +hiding place prepared and waiting for her reception. It was undoubtedly +only a temporary refuge, he would hardly keep her in such sordid +surroundings. The Whitneys saw it as a night’s bivouac before a longer +flight. And that flight would never take place; every exit was under +surveillance, there was no possibility of escape. The two men, smoking +tranquilly under the breath of the electric fans, were quietly +confident. They would bring Chapman’s vengeance to an abrupt end and +avert an ignominious family scandal. Meantime they awaited O’Malley—who +was to return to the office for George—and as they waited discussed the +kidnapping, knowledge supplemented by deductions. + +When Chapman had decided on it he had instructed Esther, telling her to +inform him when the opportunity offered. This she could do by letter, +or, if time pressed, by telephone from a booth in the village. The trip +to New York had been planned several days in advance and he had been +advised of it, its details probably telephoned in the day before. He—or +some one in his pay—had driven the taxi. It had been stationed in the +rank near the house, where in the dead season there were few vehicles +and from whence the extra one needed by Suzanne would naturally be +taken. That Esther, with a long list of commissions to execute, should +leave the child in the cab was an entirely natural proceeding. Her +explanation of her subsequent actions was also disarmingly plausible, +and the minutes thus expended gave the time necessary for the driver to +make his get-away. Before she had acquainted Suzanne with the news, the +child was hidden in the room at 76 Gayle Street. + +Whether the room was taken for this purpose was a question. If it was +then the idea had been in Chapman’s mind for weeks—it was the "coming +back" he had hinted at when he left Grasslands. If, however, it had been +hired as a place of rendezvous with his confederate, it had assisted +them in the carrying out of their plot—might indeed have suggested it. +For as a lair in which to lie low it offered every advantage—secluded, +inconspicuous, the rest of the floor untenanted. They could keep the +child there without rousing a suspicion, for if Chapman was with her—and +they took for granted that he was—she would be contented and make no +outcry. She loved him and was happy in his society. + +"Poor devil!" growled the old man. "You can’t help being sorry for him, +even if he did do it to hit back. It’s his child and he’s fond of her." + +George gave a short laugh: + +"I fancy it’s more the hitting back than the fondness. Chapman’s not +shown up lately in a very sentimental light. It wouldn’t surprise me if +he’d ransom in the back of his mind. But we’ll put an end to his +ambitions or parental longings or whatever’s inspiring him." He looked +at his watch, then rose. "It’s a quarter past seven and O’Malley’s due +at the half hour. It’s understood we’re to bring the child here first?" + +His father gave an assenting grunt and hitched his chair into the +current of air from the fan. + +George turned on the lights, their tempered radiance flooding the room, +the windows starting out as black squares sewn with stars. + +"I don’t quite see what I’m going to say to him," he muttered, a +sidelong eye on his father. + +"Say nothing," came the answer. "Bring the child back here—that’s your +job. Leave him to me. Mrs. Janney and I’ll have it out with him when the +time comes." + +On the tick of half-past seven O’Malley appeared. Trickles of +perspiration ran down his red face, and his collar was melted to a +sodden band. + +"Gee," he panted as he ran a handkerchief round his neck, "it’s like a +Turkish bath down there in the street." + +"Well," said George, impatient of all but the main issue, "is it all +right?" + +"Yep—I’ve left two men in charge—every exit’s covered. And there’s only +one they could use—no way out back except over the fences and through +other houses." + +"He could hardly tackle that with a child." + +"He couldn’t tackle it alone and make it—not the way I’ve got things +fixed. And I’ve worked out our line of action; Stebbins relieved me at +half-past six and I went and had a séance with the janitor. Said I was +coming round later with a man who was looking for a room—the room I’d +been inquiring about. That’ll let us in quiet; right up to the top floor +and no questions asked." + +"The only hitch possible can come from Chapman—he may be ugly and show +his teeth." + +The old man answered: + +"I guess he’ll be tractable. If he’s inclined to argue bring him along +with you. It’s after eight. I don’t want to sit here half the night. Get +busy and go." + +O’Malley had a taxi waiting and they slid off up the deserted regions of +Broadway. After a few blocks they swerved to the left, plunging into a +congeries of mean streets where a network of fire-escapes encaged the +house fronts. The lights from small shops illumined the sidewalks, thick +with sauntering people. The taxi moved slowly, children darting from its +approach, swept round a corner and ran on through less animated lanes of +travel, upper windows bright, disheveled figures leaning on the sills, +vague groupings on front steps. At intervals, like the threatening voice +of some advancing monster, came the roar of the elevated trains, +sweeping across a vista with a rocking rush of light. O’Malley drew +himself to the edge of the sea and peered out ahead. + +"We’re not far off now," he muttered. "We’ll stop at the corner of the +block—there’s a bookbinding place there that’s dark and quiet. If we go +to the door they might catch on, get panicky, and make a row." + +At one end of the street’s length the lamp-spotted darkness of +Washington Square showed like a spangled curtain. The cab turned from it +and crossed a wide avenue over which the skeleton structure of the +elevated straddled like a vast centipede. Beyond stretched a darkling +perspective touched at recurring intervals with the white spheres of +lamps. It was a propitious time, the evening overflow dispersed, the +loneliness of the deep night hours, when a footfall echoes loud and a +solitary figure looms mysterious, not yet come. + +The cab drew up at the curb by the shuttered face of the book bindery +and the man alighted. With a low command to the driver, O’Malley, George +beside him, walked up the block. From a shadowy doorway a figure +detached itself, slunk by them with a whispered hail and vanished. +Toward the street’s far end they stopped at a door level with the +sidewalk, and O’Malley, bending to scrutinize a line of push buttons, +pressed one. + +"Is this the place?" George whispered, in startled revulsion. + +"This is the place. And a good one for Price’s purpose as you’ll see +when you get in." + +The young man noted the battered doorway, slightly out of plumb, then +stepped back and glanced at the façade. Many of the windows, uncurtained +and open, were lit up. Those of the top floor—dormers projecting from a +mansard roof—were dark. He was about to call O’Malley’s attention to +this, when the sounds of footsteps within the house checked him. + +There was a rattling of locks and bolts and the door swung open +disclosing a man, grimy, old and bent, a lamp in his hand. He squinted +uncertainly at them, then growled irritably as he recognized O’Malley: + +"Oh, it’s you. I thought you wasn’t comin’? If you’d been any later you +wouldn’t ’a got me up." + +O’Malley explained that the gentleman was detained—couldn’t get away any +earlier, very sorry, but they’d be quick and make no noise—just wanted +to see the rooms and get out. + +In single file, the janitor leading, they mounted the stairs. To the +aristocratic senses of George the place seemed abominable. The +staircase, narrow and without balustrade, ran up steeply between walls +once painted green, now blotched and smeared. At the end of the first +flight there was a small landing, a gas bracket holding aloft a tiny +point of flame. It was as hot as an oven, the stifling atmosphere +impregnated with mingled odors of cooking, stale cigar smoke, and the +mustiness of close, unaired spaces. + +On the second landing one of the doors was open, affording a glimpse of +a squalid interior, and a man in his shirt sleeves bent over a table +writing. He did not look up as they creaked by. From somewhere near, +muffled by walls, came the thin, frail tinkling of guitar strings. As +they ascended the temperature grew higher, the air held in the low attic +story under the roof, baked to a sweltering heat. The janitor muttered +an excuse—the top floor being vacant the windows were kept shut—it would +be cool enough when they were opened. + +He had gained the last landing, which broadened into a small square of +hall cut by three doors. As he turned to one on the left, O’Malley +slipped by him and drew away toward that on the right. There was a +moment of silence, broken by the clinking of the man’s keys. He had +trouble in finding the right one and set his lamp down on a chair, his +head bent over the bunch. George was aware of O’Malley’s figure casting +a huge wavering shadow up the wall, edging closer to the right hand +door. + +The key was found and inserted in the lock and the janitor entered the +room, his lamp diffusing a yellow aura in the midst of which he moved, a +black, retreating shape. With his withdrawal the light in the hall, +furnished by a bead of gas, faded to a flickering obscurity. O’Malley’s +shadow disappeared, and George could see him as a formless oblong, +pressed against the panel. There was a moment of intense stillness, the +guitar tinkling faint as if coming through illimitable distances. The +detective’s voice rose in a whisper, vital and intimate, against the +music’s spectral thinness: + +"Queer. There’s not a sound." + +His hand stole to the handle, clasped it, turned it. Noiselessly the +door opened upon darkness into which he slipped equally noiseless. + +That slow opening was so surprising, so dreamlike in its quality of the +totally unexpected, that George stood rooted. He stared at the square of +the door, waiting for voices, clamor, the anticipated in some form. Then +he saw the darkness pierced by the white ray of an electric torch and +heard a sound—a rumbled oath from O’Malley. It brought him to the +threshold. In the middle of the room, his torch sending its shaft over +walls and floor, stood the detective alone, his face, the light shining +upward on the chin and the tip of his nose, grotesque in its enraged +dismay. + +"Not here—d——n them!" and his voice trailed off into furious curses. + +"Gone?" The surprise had made George forgetful. + +"Gone—no!" The man almost shouted in his anger. "How could they +go?—Didn’t I say every outlet was blocked. They ain’t been here. They +ain’t had her here. Get a match, light the gas—I got to see the place +anyway." + +The torch’s ray had touched a gas fixture on the wall and hung steady +there. As the men fumbled for matches, the janitor came clumping across +the hall, calling in querulous protest: + +"Say—how’d you get in there? That ain’t the place—it’s rented." + + +[Illustration: _His face was ludicrous in its enraged enmity_] + + +He stopped in the doorway, scowling at them under the glow of his upheld +lamp. A match sputtered over the gas and a flame burst up with a +whistling rush. In the combined illumination the room was revealed as +bleak and hideous, the walls with blistered paper peeling off in shreds, +the carpet worn in paths and patches, an iron bed, a bureau, by the one +window, a table. The janitor continuing his expostulations, O’Malley +turned on him and flashed his badge with a fierce: + +"Shut up there. Keep still and get out. We’ve got a right here and if +you make any trouble you’ll hear from us." + +The man shrank, scared. + +"Police!" he faltered, then looking from one to the other. "But what +for? There’s no one here, there ain’t ever been any one—it’s took but +it’s been empty ever since." + +O’Malley who had sent an exploring glance about him, made a dive for a +newspaper lying crumpled on the floor by the bed. One look at it, and he +was at the man’s side, shaking it in his face: + +"What do you say to this? Yesterday’s—how’d it get here? Blew in through +the window maybe." + +The janitor scanned the top of the page, then raised his eyes to the +watching faces. His fright had given place to bewilderment and he began +a stammering explanation—if any one had been there he’d never known it, +never seen no one come in or go out, never heard a sound from the +inside. + +"Did you see any one—any one that isn’t a regular resident—come into the +house yesterday or to-day?" It was George’s question. + +He didn’t know as he’d seen anybody—not to notice. The tenants had +friends, they was in and out all day and part of the night. And anyway +he wasn’t around much after he’d swept the halls and taken down the +pails. Yesterday and to-day he guessed he’d stayed in the basement most +of the time. If anybody had been in the room—and it looked like they +had—it was unbeknownst to him. The lady had the key; she could have come +in without him seeing; it wasn’t his business to keep tab on the +tenants. He showed a tendency to diverge to the subject of his duties +and George cut him off with a greenback pushed into his grimy claw and +an order to keep their visit secret. + +Meantime O’Malley had started on an examination of the room. There was +more than the paper to prove the presence of a recent occupant. The bed +showed the imprint of a body; pillow and counterpane were indented by +the pressure of a recumbent form. On its foot lay a book, an unworn +copy, as if newly bought, of "The Forest Lovers." The table held an ink +bottle, the ink still moist round its uncorked mouth, some paper and +envelopes and a pen. There was a scattering of pins on the bureau, two +gilt hairpins and a black net veil, crumpled into a bunch. Pushed back +toward the mirror was the cover of the soap dish containing ashes and +the butts of four cigarettes. + +O’Malley studied the bureau closely, ran the light of his torch back and +forth across it, shook out the veil, sniffed it, and put it and the two +hairpins carefully into his wallet. Then with the book and the paper in +his hand he straightened up, turned to George, and said: + +"That about cleans it up. There’s nothing for it now but to go back." + +The janitor, anxiously watchful, followed on their heels as they went +down the stairs. Their clattering descent was followed by the strains of +the guitar, thinly debonair and mocking as if exulting over their +discomfiture. In the street the same shape emerged from the shadows and +slouched toward them. A grunted phrase from O’Malley sent it drifting +away, spiritless and without response, like a lonely ghost come in timid +expectation and repelled by a rebuff. + +O’Malley dropped into a corner of the taxi and as it glided off, said: + +"That’s the last of 76 Gayle Street as far as they’re concerned." + +"Why do you say that?" + +In the darkness the detective permitted himself a sidelong glance of +scorn. + +"You don’t leave the door unlocked in that sort of place unless you’re +done with it. They’ve got all they wanted out of it and quit." + +"Abandoned it?" + +"That’s right—made a neat, quiet get-away. They didn’t say they were +going, didn’t give up the key—it was on the inside of the door. Just +slid out and vanished." + +"Some one was there yesterday." + +"Um," O’Malley’s voice showed a pondering concentration of thought. +"Some one was lying on the bed reading; waiting or passing time." + +"They couldn’t have been there to-day—before your men were on the job?" + +O’Malley drew himself to the edge of the seat, his chest inflated with a +sudden breath: + +"Why couldn’t they? Why couldn’t _that_ have been the rendezvous? Why +couldn’t she have lost the child down here on Gayle Street instead of +opposite Justin’s? Price was there beforehand: up she comes, tips him +off that the taxi’s in the street, sees him leave and goes herself, +across to Fifth Avenue where she picks up a cab. It’s safer than the +other way—no cops round, janitor in the basement, if she’s seen nothing +to be remarked—a lady known to have a room on the top floor." He brought +his fist down on his knee. "That’s what they did and it explains what’s +been puzzling me." + +"What?" + +"There was no dust on the top of the bureau; it had been wiped off +to-day. There was no dust on that veil; it hadn’t been there since +yesterday. A woman fixed herself at that glass not so long ago. Price +had a date with her to deliver the child and he was lying on the bed +reading while he waited. When he heard her he threw down the book, got +the good word and lit out. After he’d gone she took off her veil—what +for? To get her face up to show to Mrs. Price—whiten it, make it look +right for the news she was bringing. When she left she was made up for +the part she was to play. And I take my hat off to her, for she played +it like a star." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX—MOLLY’S STORY + + +It was nearly seven when we got back to Grasslands. We alighted as +silent as we started, and I was following Miss Maitland into the hall, +Ferguson behind me, when she turned in the doorway and spoke. She had +orders that the servants must know nothing; she was to tell them that +the family would stay in town for a few days, and for me to be careful +what I said before them. Then, before I could answer, she glanced at +Ferguson and said good-by, her eyes just touching him for a moment and +passing, cold and weary, back to me. She’d wish me good-night, she was +going to her room and not coming down again—no, thanks, she’d take no +dinner, she was very tired. She didn’t need to say that. If I ever saw a +person dead beat and at the end of her string she was it. + +Ferguson stood looking after her. I think for the moment he forgot me, +or maybe he wasn’t conscious of what his face showed. Some way or other +I didn’t like to look at him; it was as if I was spying on something I +had no right to see. So I turned away and dropped into one of the +balcony chairs, sunk down against the back and feeling limp as a rag. + +Presently came his step and he was in front of me, his head bent down +with the hair hanging loose on his forehead, and his eyes like they were +hooks that would pull the words out of me: + +"What happened up there at the Whitneys?" + +"Mr. Ferguson," I answered solemn, "I’ve told you more than I ought +already. Is it the right thing for me to go on doing wrong?" + +"Yes," he says, sharp and decided, "it’s exactly the right thing. Keep +on doing it and we’ll get somewhere." + +I set my lips tight and looked past him at the lawn. He waited a minute +then said: + +"I thought you agreed to trust me." + +"There’s a good deal more to it now than there was then." + +"All the more reason for telling me. Of course I can get all I want from +Mrs. Janney or either of the Whitneys; they don’t let ladylike scruples +stand in the way. But that means a trip to town and I’m not ready to +take it." + +It was surprising how that young man could make you feel like a worm who +had a conscience in place of common sense. + +"Have I got your word, sworn to on the Bible, if we had one here, not to +give her a hint of it?" + +"Good Lord!" he groaned. "Don’t talk like the ingénue in a melodrama. +Let me see why the Whitneys think so much of you. You must have _some_ +intelligence—give me a sample of it." + +That settled it. + +"Take a seat," I said. "You make me nervous staring at me like the lion +in the menagerie at the fat child." + +He sat down and I told him—the whole business, what she had said, what +they had thought—everything. When I’d finished he rose up and, with his +hands burrowed deep in his pockets, began pacing up and down the +balcony. I didn’t give a peep, watching him cautious from under my +eyelids. + +After a bit he said in a low voice: + +"Preposterous—crazy! She had no more to do with it than you have." + +"They think different." + +"I’ve gathered that. And Price had nothing to do with it either." + +It was all very well for him to stand by her, but to sweep Price off the +map! I couldn’t sit still and let him rave on. + +"Price hadn’t? Take another guess. Price is the mainspring of it." + +"I’ll leave guessing to you—it’s your business, and you appear to do it +very well." + +"Say, drop me altogether. I’m only a paid servant. But you’ll have to +admit that Mr. Whitney and his son count pretty big in their line." + +"Very big, Miss Rogers. But they’ve made a mistake this time—or possibly +been misled. The Janneys have never been fair to Price. They’re +prejudiced and they’ve branded the prejudice on. He isn’t an angel, +neither is he a rascal. He didn’t take his child, he never thought of +it, he couldn’t do it." + +"Then who did?" + +"That’s what I want to find out." + +"Jerusalem!" I said, sitting up, feeling like the peaceful scene around +me was suddenly dark and strange. "You don’t think she’s _really_ been +kidnaped?" + +"I can’t think anything else." He stopped in front of me, looking at me +hard and stern. "I’d like to find another solution but I’m unable to." + +"But, gee-whizz!" I stared at him, all worried and mixed. "You can’t get +away from the facts. They’re all there—there’s hardly a break." + +"I don’t admit that. This man and woman have got characters and records +that haven’t been considered—but even if you had a hole-proof case +against them I wouldn’t believe it." + +"Oh, pshaw!" I said, simmering down, "you just believe what you want to. +I’ve seen people like that before." + +"I daresay you have, I’m not a unique specimen in the human family. But +I’ll tell you what I am just at this juncture—the only one among you +that’s right." He drew back and gave a vengeful wag of his head at me. +"You’ve all gone off at half-cock—doing your best to ruin a man who’s +harmless and a girl who’s—who’s—" he stopped, and wheeled away from me. +"Tch—it makes me sick! Hate and anger and jealousy—that’s what’s at the +bottom of it. I can’t talk about it any longer—it’s too beastly. +Good-night!" + +He turned on his heel, ran down the steps and over the grass, clearing +the terrace wall with a leap. I looked after him, fading into the early +night, disturbed and with a sort of cold heaviness in my heart. He was +no fool—suppose what he thought was true? Suppose that dear child whom +I’d grown to love—but, rubbish! I wouldn’t think of it. It was easy to +account for the way he felt. Every little movement has a meaning of its +own—and the meaning in all his little movements was love. He had it bad, +poor chap, out on him like the measles, and while you have to be gentle +with the sick you don’t pay much attention to what they say. + +That was a dreary evening. There being no one but me around they served +my dinner in the dining room, and it added to the strain. Some of the +food I didn’t know whether to eat with a fork or a spoon, so I had to +pass up a lot which was hard seeing I was hungry. But when you’re born +in an east side tenement you feel touchy that way—I wasn’t going to be +criticized by two corn-fed menials. I’m glad I’m not rich; it’s grand +all right, but it isn’t comfortable. + +The next day—Saturday—it rained and I sat round in the hall and my room +where I could hear the ’phone and keep an eye on Miss Maitland. All she +did was to go for a walk, and in the afternoon stay in her study. We saw +each other at meals, our conversation specially edited for Dixon and +Isaac. + +Sunday was fine weather again and Ferguson came round at twelve. Miss +Maitland had gone for another walk and he and I had the hall to +ourselves. He’d been in town the day before, seen George Whitney and +told him what he thought. When I asked how Mr. George took it, he gave a +sarcastic smile and said, "He listened very politely but didn’t seem +much impressed." He also told me they’d hoped to find the child Friday +night in the room at 76 Gayle Street and had been disappointed. + +"Of course she wasn’t there," and he ended with "it was only wasting +valuable time, but there’s a proverb about none being so blind as those +who won’t see." + +After that he dropped the subject—I think he wanted to get away from +it—and pow-wowing together we worked around to the robbery, which had +been side-tracked by the bigger matter. He said it had been in his mind +to tell me a curious circumstance that he’d come on the night the jewels +were taken and that he thought might be helpful to me. It was about a +cigar band that Miss Maitland had found in the woods that evening when +he and she had walked home together. Before he was half through I was +listening attentive as a cat at a mouse hole, for it was a queer story +and had possibilities. After I put some questions and had it all clear, +we mulled it over—the way I love to do. + +"A man dropped it," I said slowly, my thoughts chasing ahead of my +words, "who went through the woods after the storm." + +"Exactly—between eight-thirty and ten-thirty. And do you grasp the fact +that those were the hours the house was vacated—the logical time to rob +it?" + +"Yes, I’ve thought of that often—wondered why they waited." + +"And do you grasp another fact—that Hannah a little before nine heard +the dogs barking and then quieting down as if they scented some one they +knew?" + +I nodded; that too I’d made a mental note of. + +"It couldn’t have been Price for he was on the way to town then." + +"Oh, Price—" he gave an impatient jerk of his head—"of course it wasn’t +Price, but it _was_ some one the dogs knew. That would have been just +about the time a man, watching the house and seeing the ground floor +dark, would have come across the lawn to make his entrance." + +I pondered for a spell then said: + +"Did you ever tell this to Mrs. Janney or any of them?" + +"No, I didn’t think of it myself until a little while ago—the night I +dined here and saw it was one of Mr. Janney’s cigars. And then what was +the use—the light by the safe had fixed the time." + +"Yes—if it wasn’t for that light you’d have got a real lead. Too bad, +for it’s a bully starting point, and it would have let out those other +two." + +He stiffened up, suddenly haughty looking. + +"There’s no necessity of letting out people who never were in. But if +that light was eliminated you could work on the theory that a +professional thief—an expert safe opener—had done the business." + +"How would the dogs know _him_?" I asked. + +He leaned toward me, looking with a quiet sort of meaning into my face: + +"Suppose you put that mind of yours, that Wilbur Whitney values so +highly and I’m beginning to see indications of, on that question." + +"What’s the sense of wasting it? My mind’s my capital and I don’t draw +on it unless there’s a need. You get rid of that light at one-thirty and +I’ll expend some of it." + +I laughed, but he didn’t, looking on the ground frowning and thoughtful. +Then a step on the balcony made us both turn. It was Miss Maitland, back +from her walk, looking much better, a smile at the sight of him, and a +little color in her face. She joined us and, Dixon announcing lunch, +Ferguson invited himself to stay. It was the first human meal I’d eaten +since the doors of the dining room had opened to me. + +After lunch I left them on the balcony and went upstairs to my room. I +tried to read but the air, blowing in warm and sweet and the scent of +the garden coming up, made the book seem dull, and I went to the window +and leaned out. + +A while passed that way and then I saw Ferguson going home, a long +figure in white flannels striding across the lawn to the wood path. Then +out from the kitchen come the servants, all togged up, six girls and +Isaac, and away they go on their bikes to the beach. From what I’ve seen +of the homes of the rich I’d rather be in the kitchen than the +parlor—the help have it all over the quality for plain enjoyment. They +went off bawling gayly, and presently Dixon appears, looking like a +parson on his day off, all brisk and cheerful. Last of all comes Hannah, +her hair as slick as a seal’s, a dinky little hat set on top of it, and +a parasol held over it all. She waddled off, large and slow, in another +direction, toward the woods—for a cup of tea and a neighborly gossip in +Ferguson’s kitchen, I guess. How I wished I was along with them! + +There I was left, lolling back and forth on the sill, kicking with my +toes on the floor, and wondering what my poor, deserted boy was doing in +town. Then sudden, piercing the stillness with a sort of tingling +thrill, comes the ring of the hall telephone. + +I gave a soft jump, snatched up my pad and pencil, and was at the table +and had the receiver off before she’d got to the closet downstairs. It +was so quiet, not a sound in the house, that I could hear every catch in +her breath and every tone in her voice. And what I heard was worth +listening to. A man spoke first: + +"Hello, who’s this?" + +"Esther Maitland. Is it—is it?" + +"Yes—C. P. I’ve waited until now as I knew there wouldn’t be anybody +around. It’s all right." + +"Truly. You’re not saying it to keep me quiet?" + +"Not a bit. There’s no need for any worry. Everything’s gone without a +hitch." + +"And you think it’s safe—to—to—take the next step?" + +"Perfectly. We’re going to get her out of town on Tuesday night." + +"Oh!" I could hear the relief in her voice. "You don’t know what this +means to me?" + +He gave a little, dry laugh: + +"Me too—I’ll admit it’s been something of a strain. That’s all I wanted +to say. Good-by." + +I scratched it on the pad, and tiptoed back to my room, short of breath +a bit myself. What would Ferguson say to this? I stood by the window, +thinking how to send it in, and things went right for out she came from +the balcony and walked across to a place on the lawn where there were +some chairs under a group of maples. She sat down and began to read, and +I stole back to the hall and took a call for the Whitney house. Being +Sunday they might be out, but that went right too, for I got the Chief +himself. I told him and asked for instructions and they came straight +and quick: + +"Bring her into town to-morrow morning. There’s a train at nine-thirty +you can take. Get a taxi at the depot and come right up to the office. +You’ll have to tell her in what capacity you’re serving the family. +That’ll be easy—you were engaged for the robbery. Don’t let her think +you have any interest in the kidnaping, and on no account let her guess +we suspect her. Say you’ve had a message from me, that some new facts +have come in and I want to ask her a few questions—see if the +information tallies with what she saw. Keep her quiet and calm. Got that +straight? All right—so long." + + + + +CHAPTER XX—MOLLY’S STORY + + +The next morning, in the hall, right after breakfast I told her what I +had to tell—I mean who I was. It gave her a start—held her listening +with her eyes hard on mine—then when I explained it was for inside work +on the robbery she eased up, got cool and nodded her head at me, +politely agreeing. She understood perfectly and would go wherever she +was wanted; she was glad to do anything that would be of assistance; no +one was more anxious than she to help the family in their distress, and +so forth and so on. + +On the way in she was quiet, but I don’t think as peaceful as she acted. +She asked me some questions about my work. I answered brisk and bright +and she said it must be a very interesting profession. I’ve seen nervy +people in my time but no woman that beat her for cool sand, and the way +I’m built I can’t help but respect courage no matter what the person’s +like who has it. Before we reached town I was full of admiration for +that girl who, as far as I could judge, was a crook from the ground up. + +When we reached the office I was called into an inner room where the +Chief and Mr. George were waiting. I gave them my paper with the ’phone +message on it, and answered the few questions they had to ask. I learned +then that they’d got hold of more evidence against her. O’Malley had +snooped round the Gayle Street locality and heard that on Friday morning +about half-past eleven a taxi, containing a child resembling Bébita, had +been seen opposite a book bindery on the corner of the block. I didn’t +hear any particulars but I saw by the Chief’s manner, quiet and sort of +absorbed, and by Mr. George, like a blue-ribbon pup straining at the +leash, that they had Esther Maitland dead to rights and the end was in +sight. + +After that I was sent back into the hall where I’d left her and told to +bring her into the old man’s private office. We went up the passage, a +murmur of voices growing louder as we advanced. She was ahead and, as +the door opened, she stopped for a moment on the threshold, quick, like +a horse that wants to shy. Over her shoulder I could see in, and I don’t +wonder she pulled up—any one would. There, beside the Chief and Mr. +George, were the two old Janneys and Mrs. Price, sitting stiff as +statues, each of them with their eyes on her, gimlet-sharp and +gimlet-hard. They said some sort of "How d’ye do" business and made bows +like Chinese mandarins, but their faces would have made a chorus girl +get thoughtful. I guessed then they knew about the tapped message and +had come to see Miss Maitland get the third degree. She scented the +trouble ahead too—I don’t see how she could have helped it; there was +thunder in the air. But she said good-morning to them, cordial and easy, +and walked over to the chair Mr. George pushed forward for her. + +Sitting there in the midst of them, she looked at the Chief, politely +inquiring, and I couldn’t help but think she was a winner. Mrs. Price, +all weazened up and washed out, was like a cosmetic advertisement beside +her. She held herself very straight, her hands folded together in her +lap, her head up cool and proud. She had on the white hat with the +wreath of grapes and a wash-silk dress of white with lilac stripes that +set easy over her fine shoulders, and, believe me, bad or good, she was +a thoroughbred. + +The Chief, turning himself round toward her with a hitch of his chair, +began as bland and friendly as if they’d just met at a tea-fest. + +"We’re very sorry to bother you again, Miss Maitland. But certain facts +have come up since you were here that make it necessary for me to ask +you a few more questions." + +She just inclined her head a little and murmured: + +"It’s no bother at all, Mr. Whitney. I’m only too anxious to help in any +way I can." + +Honest-to-God I think the Chief got a jar; the words came as smooth and +as cool as cream just off the ice. For a second he looked at his desk +and moved a paper knife very careful, as if it was precious and he was +afraid of breaking it. + +"I’m glad to hear you say that, Miss Maitland. It’s not only what one +would expect you to feel, but it makes me sure that you will be willing +to explain certain circumstances concerning yourself and +your—er—activities—that have—well—er—rather puzzled us." + +It was my business to watch her and even if it hadn’t been I couldn’t +have helped doing it. I saw just two things—the light strike white +across the breast of her blouse where a quick breath lifted it, and, for +a second, her hands close tight till the knuckles shone. Then they +relaxed and she said very softly: + +"Certainly. I’ll explain anything." + +"Very good. I was sure you would." He leaned forward, one arm on the +desk, his big shoulders hunched, his eyes sharp on her but still very +kind. "We have discovered—of course you’ll understand that our +detectives have been busy in all directions—that nearly a month ago you +took a room at 76 Gayle Street. Now that I should ask about this may +seem an unwarranted impertinence, but I would like to know just why you +took that room." + +There was a slight pause. Mrs. Price, who was sitting next to me, an +empty chair in front of her, rustled and in the moment of silence I +could hear her breathing, short and catchy, like it was coming hard. +Miss Maitland, who, as the Chief had spoken, had dropped her eyes to her +hands, looked up at him: + +"I have no objection to telling you. I took it for a school friend of +mine—Aggie Brown, a girl I hadn’t seen for years. A month ago she wrote +me from St. Louis and told me she was coming to New York to study art +and asked me to engage a room for her. She said she had very little +money and it must be inexpensive. I had heard of that place from other +girls—that it was respectable and cheap—so I engaged the room. It so +happens that my friend is not yet in New York. She was delayed by +illness in her family." + +I sent a look around and caught them like pictures going quick in a +movie—Mr. Janney glimpsing sideways, worried and frowning, at his wife, +Mr. George, his arm on the back of his chair, pulling at his little +blonde mustache and twisting his mouth around, and the Chief pawing +absent-minded after the paper knife. Miss Maitland, with her chin up and +her shoulders square, had her eye on him, attentive and steady, like a +soldier waiting for orders. + +Then out of the silence came Mrs. Janney’s voice, rumbling like distant +thunder: + +"But you went to that room yourself?" + +The Chief’s hand made a quick wave at her for silence. Miss Maitland +didn’t seem to notice it; she turned to Mrs. Janney and answered: + +"Yes, several times, Mrs. Janney. I’d had to pay the rent in advance and +I had a key, so when I was in town and had time to spare I went there. +It was quiet and convenient—I used to write letters and read." + +"Would you mind telling me why Mr. Chapman Price went there too?" + +It was the Chief’s voice this time, quite low and oh, so deep and mild. +Miss Maitland’s attitude didn’t change, but again her hands clasped and +stayed clasped. She gave a little, provocative smile, almost as if she +was trying to flirt with him, and said: + +"You seem to know a great deal about me and my affairs, Mr. Whitney." + +He returned the smile, good-humored, as if he liked the way she’d come +back at him. + +"A little, Miss Maitland. You see we have had to, unpleasant but still +necessary—you have no objection to answering?" + +"Oh, not the least, only—" her glance swept over the solemn faces of the +others—"I’m afraid Mrs. Janney may not approve of what I’ve done. I met +Mr. Price there to tell him about Bébita; I was sorry for him, for the +position he was in. He was fond of her and he heard almost nothing about +her. So I arranged to give him news of her, tell him how she was, and +little funny things she had said. It wasn’t the right thing to do but +I—I—pitied him so." + +A sound—I can’t call it anything but a grunt—came from Mrs. Janney. Mr. +George, still pulling at his mustache, shifted uneasily in his chair. +Beside me I could hear that stifled breathing of Mrs. Price, and her +hand, all covered with rings, stole forward and clasped like a bird’s +claw on the chair in front. I don’t think Miss Maitland noticed any of +this. Her eyes were on the Chief, fixed and sort of defiant. Her face +had lost its calm look; there were pink spots on her cheek bones. + +"A natural thing to do," said the Chief mildly, "though hardly discreet +considering the situation. But we won’t argue about that—we’ll pass on +to the business of the moment. Now you told us last time you were here +that you left the taxi in front of Justin’s. Inquiries there of the +doorman have elicited the information that he remembers the cab and the +child, and says it was still there when you came out and that you got +into it and drove away." + +"How can the doorman at a place where hundreds of carriages stop every +day remember the people in each one?" All the softness was gone out of +her voice and her face began to look different, as if it had grown +thinner. "It’s absurd—he couldn’t possibly be sure of every woman and +child who stopped there. My word is against his, and it seems to me I’m +much more likely to know what I did than he is—especially _that_ day." + +"Certainly, certainly." The Chief was all kindly understanding. "Under +the circumstances every event of that morning should be impressed on +your memory. But another fact has come up that seems to us curious. One +of our detectives has heard from a clerk in a book bindery at the corner +near 76 Gayle Street, that on Friday last, at about half-past eleven, he +saw a taxi standing at the curb there. He noticed a child in it talking +to the driver and his description of this child, her appearance and +clothes, is a very accurate description of Bébita." + +He looked at her over his glasses, with a sort of ominous, waiting +attention. I’d have wilted under it, but she didn’t, only what had been +a restrained quietness gave place to a sort of steely tension. You could +see that her body all over was as rigid as the hands clenched together, +the fingers knotted round each other. It was will and a fighting spirit +that kept her up. I began to feel my own muscles drawing tight, +wondering if she’d get through and praying that she would—I don’t know +why. + +"It’s quite possible that this man—this clerk—may have seen such a taxi +with such a child in it. There must be a great many little girls in New +York whose description would fit Bébita. I dare say if your detective +had gone about the city he would have heard of any number of cabs and +children that would have fitted just as well. I can’t imagine why you’re +asking me these questions or why you don’t seem to believe what I say. +But even if you don’t believe it, that won’t prevent me from sticking to +it." + +"A commendable spirit, Miss Maitland, when one is sure of one’s facts," +said the Chief, and suddenly pushing back his chair he rose. "Now I’ve +just one more matter to call to your attention, a little memorandum +here, which, if you’ll be good enough to explain, we’ll end this rather +trying interview." + +He went over to her, fumbling in his vest pocket, and then drew out my +folded paper and put it into her hand: + +"It’s the record of a telephone message received by you yesterday at +Grasslands, and tapped by our detective, Miss Rogers." + +He stepped back and stood leaning against the desk watching her. We all +did; there wasn’t an eye in that room which wasn’t glued on that +unfortunate girl as she opened the paper and read the words. + +It was a knock-out blow. I knew it would be—I didn’t see how it +couldn’t—and yet she’d put up such a fight that some way or other I +thought she’d pull out. But that bowled her over like a nine pin. + +She turned as white as the paper and her hands holding it shook so you +could hear it rustle. Then she looked up and her eyes were awful—hunted, +desperate. Yet she made a last frantic effort, with her face like a +death mask and all the breath so gone out of her she had only a hoarse +thread of voice: + +"I—I—don’t know what this is—oh, yes, yes, I mean I do. But it—it refers +to something else—it’s—it’s—that friend of mine—Aggie Brown from St. +Louis—she’s come and Mr. Price—" + +She couldn’t go on; her lips couldn’t get out any words. You could see +the brain behind them had had such a shock it wouldn’t work. + +"Miss Maitland," said the Chief, solemn as an executioner, "we’ve got +you where you can’t keep this up. There’s no use in these evasions and +denials. Where is Bébita?" + +"I don’t know—I don’t know anything about her. I swear to Heaven I +don’t." + +She raised her voice with the last words and looked at them, round at +those stony faces, wild like an animal cornered. + +"What’s the matter with you? Why do you think I’d be a party to such a +thing? Why don’t you believe me—why _can’t_ you believe me? And you +don’t—not one of you. You think I’m guilty of this infamous thing. All +right, _think_ it. Do what you like with me—arrest me, put me in jail, I +don’t care." + +She put her hands over her face and collapsed down in her chair, like a +spring that had held her up had broken. That breathing beside me had +grown so loud it sounded as if it came from some one running the last +lap of a race. Now it suddenly broke into a sound—more like a growl than +anything else—and Mrs. Price got up, shuffling and shaking, her hands +holding on to the chair in front. + +"She ought to be put in jail," she gasped out. "She’s bad right +through—everything she’s said is a lie. And she’s a thief too." + +There was a movement of consternation among them all—getting up, pushing +back chairs, several voices speaking together: + +"Keep quiet." + +"Mrs. Price, I beg of you—" + +"Suzanne, sit down." + +But she went on, looking like a withered old witch, with her bird-like +hands clutched on the chair back: + +"I won’t sit down, I won’t keep quiet. I’ve sat here listening to all +this and I’ve had enough. I’m crazy; my baby’s gone; she’s taken it, +she’s taken everything—" She turned to her mother. "She took your +jewels—I know it." + +Mr. Janney burst in like a bombshell. I never thought he could break +loose that way, with his voice shrill and a shaking finger pointing into +his stepdaughter’s face. + +"Stop this. I can’t stand for it—I know something about that—I saw—" + +But she wouldn’t stop, no one could make her: + +"I saw too, and I’m going to tell you. I don’t care what you say, I +don’t care what you think of me—my heart’s broken and I don’t care for +anything but to have my baby back." She addressed her mother again. "_I_ +went to take your jewels that night. Yes, I did; I went to steal +them—not all of them—just that long diamond chain you never wear. _You_ +know why; you knew I hadn’t any money and that I had to have it. I was +going to sell it and put what I got in stocks and if I was lucky buy it +back so you’d never know. It was _I_ who took Bébita’s torch—that’s why +it was lost—and I went down to the safe. I’d found the combination in a +drawer in the library and learnt it. And when I opened it everything was +gone. Some one had been there before me, the cases were all together in +their box but they were empty." She clawed at the embroidered purse +hanging on her arm and began to jerk at the cord, pulling it open. "But +I found something, something the thief had dropped, lying on the floor +just inside the door." She drew out a twist of tissue paper, and +unrolling it held it toward the Chief; "I found _that_." + +He took it, scrutinizing it, puzzled, through his glasses. Every one of +us except Miss Maitland, all standing now, craned forward to see. It was +a pointed pink thing about as big as the end of my little finger. The +Chief touched it and said: + +"It looks like a small rose." + +"Yes, a chiffon rosebud," Mrs. Price cried, "and she," pointing to Miss +Maitland, "wore a dress that night trimmed with them." + +We all turned, as if we were a piece of mechanism worked by the same +spring, and stared at Miss Maitland. She sat in the chair, not moving, +looking straight before her, weary and indifferent. The Chief held out +toward her the piece of paper with the rose on the middle of it. + +"Have you a dress trimmed with these?" + +She moved her eyes so they rested on the rose, ran her tongue along her +lips and said: + +"Yes." + +"Did you wear it on the night of the robbery?" + +"Yes." + +"Did you hear what Mrs. Price has just said?" + +"Yes." + +"What explanation do you make?" + +"None—except that I don’t know how it got there." + +"You deny that you were there yourself that night?" + +"Yes—I was never near the safe that night; I haven’t the slightest idea +how the rose came to be in it; I never took the jewels; I have had +nothing to do with Bébita’s disappearance; I haven’t done any of the +things you think I’ve done. But what’s the good of my saying so—what’s +the good of answering at all?" She dropped her face into her hands, her +elbows propped on her knees. The attitude, the tone of her voice, +everything about her, suggested an "Oh-what’s-the-use!" feeling. From +behind her hands the words came dull and listless. "Do anything you like +with me; it doesn’t make any difference. You think you’ve got me +cornered; that being the case, I’ll do whatever you say." + +Mrs. Janney made a step toward her: + +"Miss Maitland, I’ll agree to let the whole matter drop—hush it up and +let you go without a word—if you’ll tell us where Bébita is." + +Without moving her hands the girl answered: + +"I can’t tell, for I don’t know." + +Mrs. Price sank into her chair with a loud, sobbing wail. Some one took +her away—Mr. George, I think. Then Mr. Janney had his say: + +"If you’re doing this to protect Price—" + +She cut him off with a laugh, at least it was meant to be a laugh, but +it was a horrible, harsh sound. As she gave it she lifted her head and +cast a look at him, bitter and defiant: + +"Protect him! I’ve no more desire to protect Mr. Price than I have to +protect myself." + +The Chief’s voice fell deep as the church bell at a funeral: + +"If you maintain this attitude, Miss Maitland, there’s nothing for us to +do but let the law take its course. Theft and kidnaping! Those are +pretty serious charges." + +She nodded: + +"I suppose they are. Let the law do whatever it wants; I’m certainly not +standing in its way. But as for bribing and frightening me into +admitting what isn’t true, you can’t do it. All your money," she looked +at Mrs. Janney and then at the Chief, "and all _your_ threats won’t +influence me or make me change one word of what I’ve said." + +No one spoke for a minute. She sat silent, her chin on her hands, her +eyes staring past them out of the window. I had a feeling that in spite +of the position she was in and what they had on her, in a sort of way +she had them beaten. Their faces were glum and baffled, even the Chief +had an abstracted expression like he was thinking what he ought to do +with her. When he spoke it was to the Janneys: + +"Since Miss Maitland persists in her present pose of ignorance and +denial, the best thing for us is to get together and decide on our +course of action." He glanced across at me. "We’ll leave you here, +Molly. Stay till we come back." + +Away they went, a solemn procession, trailing across the room. When the +door into the main office opened I could hear Mrs. Price crying, and I +watched them, catching Mrs. Janney’s words as she disappeared: "Oh, +Suzanne, my poor, poor, girl! Don’t give up—don’t be discouraged—we’ll +find her!" + +It gripped me, made a sort of prickling come in my nose and a twisty +feeling in my under lip. I never could have believed that stern old +Roman could have spoken so tender and loving to any one. + +When I looked at Miss Maitland I forgot all about suffering mothers. +She’d sunk down in the chair, her head resting against its back, her +eyes closed. She was as white as a corpse, and I wheeled about looking +round the room for some kind of first aid and muttering, "Gee, she’s +fainted!" + +A whisper came out of her lips: + +"Nothing—all right—in a minute." + +There was a bottle of distilled water in a corner and I went to it, drew +off a glass and brought it to her. She couldn’t hold it and I took her +round the shoulders and pulled her up, saying out of the inner depths of +me, that’s always mushy about anything hurt and forlorn: + +"You, poor soul, here take this. I’m sorry for you, and I can’t help +being sorry that I had to give you away." + +I held the glass to her lips and she drank a little. Then I let her fall +back and stood watching her, and I felt mean. She raised her eyes and +sent a look into mine that I’ll never forget—it made me feel meaner than +a yellow dog—for it was the look of a suffering soul. + +"Thanks," was all she said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI—SIGNED "CLANSMEN" + + +The consultation in the office resulted in Esther Maitland being taken +to O’Malley’s flat in Stuyvesant Square, where his wife and sister +agreed to be responsible for her. This course had been decided upon +after some heated argument. Suzanne had clamored for her arrest, but the +others were still determined to keep the affair out of the public eye, +which, if Esther was brought before a magistrate, would have been +impossible. The Janneys were more than ever convinced that Price was the +prime mover, and the girl’s attitude had been prompted by the combined +motives of love and gain. George, who knew his father’s every phase, +noticed that the old man was reserved in his comments, and wondered if +his conviction had been shaken by Miss Maitland’s desperate denials. But +if it was he said nothing, agreeing that with the girl hidden and unable +to communicate with the outside world, they could concentrate their +attention on Chapman and through him locate the child. + +Miss Maitland was docile to all their suggestions. She would go wherever +they wanted, place herself under the surveillance of the two women, and +do whatever was asked of her. She went off in a taxi with O’Malley, and +Molly was sent back to Grasslands. There was no need of her services in +town and it was probable that Chapman, believing his confederate to be +there, would call up the place. + +The Janney party returned to the hotel, a silent, gloomy trio. The old +people were very gentle to Suzanne. On the drive up, Mrs. Janney held +her in the hollow of her arm, pressed close, yearning over her in her +shame and sorrow and feebleness. To the strong woman she was a child +again, a soft, helpless thing. The mother blamed herself for having been +hard on her. + +After lunch old Sam suggested a drive—the air would do them good. They +tried to persuade Suzanne to come, but the young woman, prone on the +sofa, a salts bottle at hand, refused to stir. She wanted to be quiet; +she wanted to rest. So, knowing the uselessness of argument, they kissed +her and went. + +Alone, she lay on her back staring at the wall in a trance-like +concentration. Her expression did not suggest the state of crushed shame +under which her parents thought she languished. In fact her past actions +had no place in her mind; she had forgotten her confession in the +office. An idea, formidable and obsessing, had taken possession of her, +settled on her like a shadow. It was possible that their conclusions +were wrong. + +She had had it from the start, off and on, coming at her in rushes of +disintegrating doubt. She had said nothing about it, had tried to force +it down, and, talking to them, had been reassured by their unquestioning +certainty. Now the scene in the office had strengthened it—something +about Esther Maitland, she didn’t know what. She had assured herself +then—she tried to do it now—that there could be no mistake, they had +proofs, the girl hadn’t been able to explain anything. But she could not +argue it away; it persisted, stronger than thought, power or will, +unescapable like the horror of a dream. + +It came from an instinct that kept whispering deep down in the recesses +of her being, "Chapman couldn’t have done it." She knew him better than +the others did, the vagaries of his ugly temper, the lines his +weaknesses ran upon. She knew him through and through, to what lengths +anger might urge him, what he could do when aroused and what he never +could do. And trying to convince herself of his guilt, marshaling the +facts against him, going over them point by point, she couldn’t make +herself believe that he had stolen Bébita. + +And if he hadn’t, then where was she? + +This was the hideous thought, pressing in upon her recognition, +intrusive as Banquo’s ghost and as terrible. She writhed under its +torment, twisting and turning until her clothes were wound about her in +a tangled coil, moaning as her imagination touched at and recoiled from +grisly possibilities. + +She was lying thus when the door-bell rang. Glad of any interruption she +sat up, and, swinging her feet to the floor, called out a sharp "Come +in." A bell-boy entered with a letter which he presented with the +information that Mr. Janney had ordered all mail to be brought +immediately to the rooms. The letter was for her, addressed in +typewriting, and as the boy withdrew she rose, heavy-eyed and +heavy-headed, and tore open the envelope. The first line brought a thin, +choked cry out of her, and then she stood motionless, her glance +devouring the words. Dated the day before, typewritten on a single sheet +of commercial paper, it ran as follows: + + "Mrs. Suzanne Price, + + "_Dear Madam:_ + + "We have your little girl. She is safe with us and will continue + to be if you act in good faith and accede to our demands. We + frankly state that our object in taking her was ransom and we + are now ready to enter upon negotiations with you. This, + however, only upon certain conditions. All transactions between + us must be conducted with absolute secrecy. If any member of + your family is told, if the police are notified, be assured that + we will know it, and that it will react upon your child. Let it + be clearly understood—if you inform against us, if you make an + attempt to trap or apprehend us, she will pay the price. We hold + her as a hostage; her fate is in your hands. If, however, you + know of a person in no wise involved or connected with you or + your family, having no personal interest in the matter, and of + whose discretion and reliability you are convinced, we are + willing to deal through them. Copy the form below, fill in blank + spaces with name and address and insert in _Daily Record_ + personals. + + "(Name).................................. + + "(Address)............................... + + "S. O. S. + + "_Clansmen._" + +Suzanne’s hand holding the paper dropped to her side and she looked +about the room with eyes vacant and unseeing. All her outward forces +were shocked into temporary suspension; for a moment she had no +realization of where or who she was. The letter was the only fact she +recognized and sentences from it chased through her consciousness: "We +hold her as a hostage, her fate is in your hands. She is safe with us if +you accede to our demands." She saw them written on the walls, they +boomed in her ears like notes of doom. It was confirmation of that +instinct she had tried to smother; like the wand of a baleful genii it +had transformed her nightmare fancies into sinister reality. + +She felt a shriek rising to her lips and pressed her hand against them. +Secrecy, silence, her stunned brain had grasped that and directed her +restraining hand. Then the one deep feeling of her shallow nature called +her shattered faculties into order. Love lent her power, steadied her, +gave her the will to act. + +She sat down on the sofa and read the letter again, slowly, getting its +full significance. For the first time in her life responsibility was +cast upon her; she could throw the burden on no one else. By her own +efforts, by her own courage and initiative, she must get Bébita back. +She whispered it over, "I must do it. I must do it myself," then fell +silent, her face stony in its tension of thought. Suddenly its rigidity +broke; in an illuminating flash she saw the first step clear, and rising +ran to the telephone. The person she called up was Larkin. He answered +himself and she told him she wanted to see him on a matter of great +importance and would come at once to his office. + +Fifteen minutes later, her face hidden by a chiffon veil, her rumpled +smartness covered with a silk motor coat, she was knocking at his door. + +Mr. Larkin’s office was cool and shady, the blinds half lowered to keep +out the glare of the afternoon sun. In the midst of its airy neatness, +surrounded by an imposing array of desks, card cabinets, typewriters and +files, Mr. Larkin was waiting alone for his important client. + +She dropped into the chair he set for her, and, pushing up her veil, +revealed a countenance so bereft of the petulant prettiness he knew, +that he started and stood gazing in open concern. The sight of his +astonishment caused the tears to well into Suzanne’s eyes, drowned and +sunken by past floods, and her story to break without prelude from her +lips. + +Larkin’s surprise at her appearance gave place to a tight-gripped +interest when he grasped the main fact of her narrative. He let her run +through it without interruption nodding now and then, a frowning +sidelong glance on her face. + +When she had finished he drew a deep breath and said: + +"The moment I saw you, I knew something was wrong. But this—" he raised +his hands and let them drop on the desk—"Good Lord! I hadn’t an idea it +was anything so serious." + +But she hadn’t finished—the worst, the thing that had brought her—she +had yet to tell. And she began about the letter received an hour ago. At +that Larkin forgot his sympathies, was the detective again, hardly +concealing his impatience as he watched her fumbling at the cords of her +purse. Finally extracted and given to him he read it, once and then +again, Suzanne eyeing him like a hungry dog. + +"Last evening," he muttered after a scrutiny of the postmark, "Grand +Central Station." Then he rose, went to the window and, jerking up the +blind, held the paper against the light, sniffed at it, and felt its +texture between his thumb and finger. Suzanne saw him shake his head, +her avid glance following him as he came back to the desk and studied +the sheet through a magnifying glass. + +"Nothing to be got that way," he said. "Typepaper—impossible to trace. +No amateur business about this." + +Suzanne’s voice was husky: + +"Do you mean it’s professional people—a gang?" + +"I can’t say exactly. But from what you tell me—the way it was +accomplished, the plan of action—I should be inclined to think it was +the work of more than one person—possibly a group—who had ability and +experience." + +Suzanne, clutching at the corner of the desk with a trembling hand, +cried in her misery: + +"Oh, Mr. Larkin, you don’t think they’ll hurt her. They wouldn’t _dare_ +to hurt her?" + +The detective’s glance was kindly but grave: + +"Mrs. Price, I’ll speak frankly. I think your child is in the hands of a +pretty desperate person or persons. But I have no apprehension that +they’ll do her any harm. They don’t want to do that—it’s too dangerous. +What they might do if their plans fail is a thing we’ll not +consider—it’ll only weaken your nerve. And that’s what you’ve got to +keep hold of. You’ll get her back all right, but you must be cool and +brave." + +"I’ll be anything; I’ll be like another person. I’ll _do_ anything. No +one need be afraid I’ll be weak or silly _now_." + +"Good—that’s the way to talk. Now let me know a little about the way the +situation stands. It’s odd I’ve seen nothing about this in the +papers—heard nothing. Your family must be active in some direction. What +are they doing?" + +A sudden color burnt in her wasted cheeks. + +"They suspect my husband. They think he did it—to—to—get square. We’d +quarreled—separated—and he’d made threats." + +"Ah, yes, yes, I see—kidnaped his own child, and they’re keeping it +quiet. I understand perfectly. But _you_ didn’t believe this?" + +She shook her head and bit on her underlip to control its trembling. + +"No—I couldn’t, though I tried to. I knew he wouldn’t have done it—it’s +not—it’s not—like him. And then while I was thinking the letter came, +and I knew, no matter what they thought, no matter what the facts were, +that _that_ was true." + +"Um," Larkin, his mouth compressed, nodded in understanding. "You would +know better than any one else. In these matters instinct is one of the +most important factors." He was silent for a moment, then looked at her, +a glance of piercing question. "Do I understand that you are willing to +enter into these negotiations?" + +"Willing!" she cried. "Why should I be here if I wasn’t willing?" + +"Yes, yes, exactly, but let us understand one another. What I mean is +are you willing—realizing what they are—to deal with them on their own +terms? In short, pay them what they ask and let them go?" + +"Of course." She almost cried it out in her effort to make him +comprehend her position. "_That’s_ what I want to do; that’s why I +haven’t told any of my own people and won’t. I’d have gone straight to +my mother with this but I knew she wouldn’t agree to it, she’d get the +police, want to fight them and bring them to justice." + +"Could you be relied on to maintain the secrecy necessary?" + +"I can be relied on for anything. Oh, Mr. Larkin, if you knew what I +feel you wouldn’t waste time asking these questions." + +He answered very gently: + +"Mrs. Price, I appreciate your feelings to the full, but this is a +hazardous undertaking. You don’t want to rush into it without realizing +what it means. There is the question of money for example—the ransom. +Your family is known for its wealth. You can be pretty certain that the +parties you’re dealing with will hold the child for a large sum." + +Suzanne clasped her hands on her breast and the tears, brimming in her +eyes, spilled over, falling in a trickle down her cheeks. + +"Oh, what’s money!" she wailed. "I’d give all the money I have, I’ve +ever had, I ever thought of having, to get my baby back." + +Larkin was moved. He looked away from that pitiful, quivering face and +his voice showed a slight huskiness as he answered: + +"Well, that’s all right, Mrs. Price—and don’t take it so hard, don’t let +your fears get the upper hand. There’s no harm can come to her; it’s to +their interest to take care of her. If we do our part cleverly, follow +their instructions and keep our heads, you’ll have her back in no time." +He stopped, arrested by a sudden thought. "I say ’we,’ but maybe I’m +presupposing too much. Was it your intention to ask for my assistance?" + +She dashed her tears away and leaned forward in eager urgence: + +"Of course—that’s why I came. And you will give it—you will? The letter +says it has to be some one having no ties or interests with the +family—some one I could trust. I couldn’t think of any one at first, and +then when I remembered you it was like an inspiration. Oh, you must do +it—I’ll pay you anything if you will." + +Larkin’s face satisfied her; she dropped back with a moan of relief. + +"I’ll undertake it willingly—not only to give you any help I can, but +because it will be a good thing for me. Don’t be shocked at my plain +speaking, but I want to be frank and straight with you. I’m not +referring to pay—we can arrange about that later—it’s work done for the +Janney family, successful work. And with your coöperation, Mrs. Price, +this is going to be successful. Now let’s get to business." He picked up +the letter and glanced over it. "Headed ’Clansmen’ and signed 'S. O. S.’ +I’ll copy it, insert my name and address, and have it in to-morrow’s +_Daily Record_. Then we’ll see what happens." + +He smiled at her, reassuring and kindly. There was no response in her +tragic face. + +"It may be days before they answer," she murmured. + +But he was determined to uphold her fainting spirit. + +"I think not. They want to end this thing as quickly as they can—get +their loot and go. You’ve got to remember that their position is +terribly dangerous and at the first sign from us they’ll get busy." + +She rose, took the letter and put it in her purse: + +"I hope to Heaven you’re right. It’s so awful to wait." + +"I don’t think you’ll have to. They’ll see our answer to-morrow morning +and I’ll expect a move from them by that evening or the next day. If +they communicate with me, I’ll let you know at once, and if you hear, do +the same by me. It’s going to be all right. Keep up your courage and +remember—not a word or a sign to any one." + +"Oh, I know," she said, drawing down her veil with limp hands, "you +needn’t be afraid I’ll spoil it. You thought me a fool, perhaps, when I +first consulted you, and I _was_, bothering about things that didn’t +matter—jewels! There isn’t one of us that hasn’t forgotten all about +them now. Good-by. No, don’t come out with me. I have a taxi waiting." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII—SUZANNE FINDS A FRIEND + + +On Monday evening Ferguson heard from Molly of the scene in the Whitney +office. He was incredulous and enraged, refusing to accept what she +insisted were irrefutable proofs of Esther’s guilt. + +"What do I care about your ’phone messages and your suppositions!" he +had almost shouted at her. "What do I care about what you _think_. You +say she didn’t answer the charges—she did, she denied them. That’s +enough for me." + +There was no use arguing with him, he was beyond reason. She lapsed into +silence, letting him rage on, seething in his wrath at the Janneys, the +Whitneys, herself. When he tried to find out where Esther was, she was +obdurate—_that_ she couldn’t tell him. All the satisfaction he got was +that Miss Maitland was not under arrest, that she was "put away +somewhere" and had agreed to the arrangement. He left, too angry for +good-nights, with a last scattering of maledictions, leaping down the +steps and swinging off across the garden. + +The next morning he telephoned in to the St. Boniface Hotel and heard +that the Janney party were out. Then he tried the Whitney office, got +George on the wire, and was told brusquely that Miss Maitland’s +whereabouts could not be divulged to any one. He spent the rest of the +day in a state of morose disquiet, denying himself to visitors, short +and surly with his servants. Willitts was solicitous, inquired after his +health and was told to go to the devil. In the kitchen quarters they +talked about his queer behavior; the butler was afraid he’d had "a touch +of sun." + +Wednesday wore through to the early afternoon and his inaction became +unendurable. He decided to go into town, look up the Janneys and force +them to tell him where Esther was. He laid upon his spirit a cautioning +charge of self-control; he must keep his head and his temper, use +strategy before coercion. He had no idea of what he intended doing when +he did find her, but the idea of getting to her, seeing her, championing +her, transformed his moody restlessness into a savage energy. His +servants flew before his commands; in the garage the chauffeur muttered +angrily as orders to hurry were shouted at him from the drive. + +Tuesday had been a day of strain for the Janneys. According to the +telephone message, that night Chapman was to move the child from the +city. He had been under a close surveillance for the two preceding days, +and every depot and ferry housed watching detectives. Hope ran high +until after midnight when reports and ’phone messages came dropping in +upon the group congregated in the library of the Whitney house. No child +resembling Bébita had left the city at any of the guarded points. +Chapman had been in his office all day, had dined at a hotel and +afterward had gone to his rooms and remained there. The plan of moving +her had either been abandoned or had been intrusted to unknown parties +who had taken her by motor through the city’s northern end. + +On Wednesday morning a consultation had been held at the Whitney office. +This had been stormy, developing the first disagreements in what had +been a unity of opinion. Mr. Janney was for going to Chapman and +demanding the child and was seconded by the elder Whitney. Mrs. Janney +was in opposition. She had no fear for Bébita’s welfare—Chapman could be +trusted to care for her—and maintained that a direct appeal to him would +be an admission of weakness and place them at his mercy. In her opinion +he would threaten exposure—he was shameless—or make an offer of a +financial settlement. George agreed with her; from the start he had +thought Chapman was actuated less by a desire for vengeance than a hope +of gain. Mrs. Janney, thus backed up, became adamant. She would have no +dealings with him, would run him to earth, and when he was caught, crush +and ruin him. + +Suzanne had listened to it all very silent and taking neither side. Her +hunted air was set down to mental strain and she was allowed to remain +an unconsulted spectator, treated by everybody with subdued gentleness. +Back in the hotel, Mrs. Janney had suggested a doctor, but her querulous +pleadings to be let alone had conquered, and the old people had gone for +their afternoon drive, leaving her in the curtained quietness of the +sitting room. + +The door was hardly shut on them when she drew out of her belt a letter. +She had found it in her room on her return from the office and had read +it there before lunch. It was a prompter answer than she had dared to +hope for. + + "Mrs. Suzanne Price, + + "_Dear Madam_: + + "In answer to your ad. we would say that we are willing to deal + through the agent you name. We take your word for it that he is + to be trusted, that both you and he understand any attempt to + betray us will be visited on your child. + + "_Remember Charley Ross!_ + + "The sum necessary for her release will be thirty thousand + dollars. On payment of this we will deliver her over at a time + and place to be specified later. If you agree to our terms + insert following ad. in the _Daily Record_. ’John—O. K. See you + later. Mary.’ + + "(Signed) _Clansmen_." + +On the second perusal of this ominous document Suzanne felt the +strangling rush of dread, the breathless contraction of the heart, that +had seized her when she first read it. Horrors had piled on horrors—as +she had risen to each new step of her progress up this Via Dolorosa, +another more fearful and unsurmountable had faced her. When she had +spoken to Larkin of the money she had never thought of it, how much it +might be, how she was to get it. Now, with a stunning impact, she was +brought against the appalling fact that she had none of her own and did +not dare ask her mother for any. + +There was no use in lies; she had lied too much and too diversely to be +believed. She would have to tell what it was for, and she knew the mood +in which her mother would meet the demand. Money would be +forthcoming—any amount—but Mrs. Janney, with her iron nerve and her +implacable spirit, would never consent to a tame submission. Suzanne +knew that her fortune and her energies would be spent in an effort to +apprehend the criminals, and Suzanne had not the courage to take a +chance. All she wanted was Bébita, back in her arms again, the fiends +who had taken her could go free. + +She sat down, pushing the damp hair from her forehead and trying to +think. One fact stood out in the midst of her blind, confused suffering. +She could not go to Larkin till she had the thirty thousand dollars. +Every moment she sat there was a moment lost, a moment added to Bébita’s +term of imprisonment. She stared about the room, the gleam of her +shifting eyes, the rise and fall of her breast, the only movements in +her stone-still figure. + +Suddenly, piercing her tense preoccupation with a buzzing note, came the +sound of the telephone. It made her jump, then mechanically, hardly +conscious of her action, she rose to answer it. A woman’s voice, +languidly nasal, came along the wire: + +"Mr. Richard Ferguson is calling." + +"Send him up," she gasped and fumbled back the receiver with a shaking +hand. With the other she steadied herself against the wall; the room had +swung for a moment, blurred before her vision. She closed her eyes and +breathed out her relief in a moaning exhalation. It was like an answer +to prayer, like the finger of God. + +Of course Dick was the person—Dick who could always be trusted, who +could always understand. He would give it and say nothing; she could +make him. He was not like the others—he would sympathize, would agree +with her, in trouble he was a rock to cling to. A broken series of +answers to unput questions coursed through her head; she could go to +Larkin now—she needn’t tell him how she’d got it, he thought she was +rich—after it was all over her mother would pay Dick back—in a few days +she’d have Bébita, the kidnapers would have made their escape—and it +would be all right, all right, all right! + +Ferguson had come up, grim-visaged, steeled for battle, but when he saw +her his fighting spirit died. There was nothing left of her but a +blighted shadow, the cloud of golden hair crowning in gay mockery her +drawn and haggard face. Before he could speak she made a clutch at his +arm, drawing him into the room, babbling a broken greeting about wanting +him, wanting his help. He put his hand on hers and felt it trembling; he +would not have been surprised if she had dropped unconscious at his +feet. + +"Lord, Suzanne, you don’t want to take it this way," he soothed, guiding +her to the sofa. "You must get hold of yourself; you’ve been brooding +too much. Of course I’ll help you—anything I can do—and we’ll get her +back, it’ll be only a few days." He didn’t know what to say, he was so +sorry for her. + +She was past parleys and preliminaries, past coquetry and artifice. The +whole of her had resolved itself into one raw longing, and before they +were seated on the sofa, she had broken into her story. He didn’t at +first believe her, thought grief had unsettled her brain, but when she +thrust the two letters into his hand all doubts left him. + +He read them slowly, word by word, then turned upon her a face so +charged and vitalized with a fierce interest that, had she been able to +see beyond the circle of her own pain, she would have wondered. If he +forgot to ask for Esther’s hiding place it was because the larger matter +of her vindication had swept all else from his mind. The proofs of her +innocence were in his hands; he did not for a moment doubt their +genuineness. + +It was what he had thought from the first. + +His manner changed from that of the sympathizing friend to one of stern +authority. He shot questions at her, tabulating her answers, discarding +cumbering detail, seizing on the important fact and separating it from +the jumble of confused impressions and fancies that she poured out. A +few inquiries set Larkin’s position clear before him. The money he +dismissed with a curt sentence; of course he would give it, she wasn’t +to think of that any more. + +"Thank heaven you decided on me," he said. "I’ll straighten this out for +you and I’ll do it quick." + +She was ready to take fright at anything and his eagerness scared her. + +"But you’ll not do anything they don’t want? You’ll not tell the police +or try to catch them?" + +He had seen from the start that she was dominated by terror, as the +kidnapers had intended she should be: and seeing this had recognized her +as a negligible factor. To keep her quiet, soothe her fears, and employ +her services just so far as they were helpful was what he had to do with +her. What he had to do without her was shaping itself in his mind. + +"You can rely on me. I won’t make any breaks. And _you_ have to be +careful, not a word about me to this man Larkin. He must think the money +is yours." + +She assured him of her discretion and he felt he could trust her that +far. + +"Now listen," he said slowly and impressively as if he was speaking to a +child, "we’ve both got to go very charily. A good deal of the +threat-stuff in these letters is bluff, but also men who would undertake +an enterprise of this kind are pretty tough customers and we don’t want +to take any risks. When I’m gone you drive over to Larkin’s, tell him +you have the money for the ransom, and to put in the ad. As soon as +either you or he get an answer let me know. I’ll be at Council Oaks; +I’ll go back there now. It’s probable you’re watched and if they saw me +hanging about here they might think I was in the game and take fright. +Do you understand?" + +She nodded: + +"Yes, you’ve put some courage into me. I was ready to die when you came +in." + +"Well, that’s over now. What you’ve got to do is to follow my +instructions, keep your nerve and have a little patience." + +He smiled down at her as she sat, a huddled heap of finery, on the edge +of the sofa. She tried to return the smile, a grimace of the lips that +did not touch her somber eyes. No man, least of all Dick Ferguson, could +have been angry with her. + +"She was crazy," he said to himself as he walked down the hall. "They +were all crazy and I guess they had enough to make them so. I’ll get the +child back, and when I do, I’ll make them bite the dust before my girl." + +Several people who knew him saw Dick Ferguson driving his black car down +Fifth Avenue late that afternoon. He saw none of them, steering his way +through the traffic, his eyes fixed on the vista in front. He stopped at +Delmonico’s for an early dinner, telling the waiter to bring him +anything that was ready, then sat with frowning brows staring at his +plate. Here again were people who knew him and wondered at his gloomy +abstraction—not a bit like Ferguson, must have something on his mind. + +Night was falling as he crossed the Queensborough bridge, a smoldering +glow along the west glazing the surface of the river. When he left the +straggling outskirts of Brooklyn and reached the open country the dark +had come, deep and velvety, a few bright star points pricking through +the cope of the sky. He lowered his speed, his glance roving ahead to +the road and its edging grasses, startlingly clear under the radiance of +his lamps. + +Round him the country brooded in its rest, silence lying on the pale +surface of fields, on the black indistinctness of trees. Here and there +the lights of farms shone, caught and lost through shielding boughs, and +the clustered sparklings of villages. The air was heavy with scents, the +breath of clover knee-high in the grass, grain still giving off the +warmth of the afternoon sun, and the delicate sweetness of the wild +grape draped over the roadside trees. All this night loveliness in its +fragrant quietness, its rich and penetrating beauty, reminded him of +her. He looked up at the sky, and its calm and steadfast splendor came +to him with a new meaning. She was related to it all, in tune with the +eternal harmonies, part of everything that was stainless and noble and +pure. And he would show the world that she was, clear her of every spot, +place her where she would be as far from suspicion, as serenely above +the meanness of her accusers, as the stars in the crystal depths of the +sky. + +When he reached Council Oaks he had a vision of her, belonging there, a +piece of its life. He saw a future, when, coming back like this to its +friendly doors, she would be waiting on the balcony to greet him. There +was no one there now; the house was still, its lights shining across the +pebbled drive. Obsessed by his thoughts, he jumped out, and leaving the +car at the steps, entered. From the kitchen wing he could hear the +servants’ voices raised in cheerful clamor. Crossing the hall, he had a +glimpse through the dining room door of the table, set and waiting for +him, two lamps flanking his place. He had no mind for food and went +upstairs, dreams still holding him. In his room he switched on the +lights and his vacant glance, sweeping the bureau, brought up on the box +with the crystal lid. + +In his mind the robbery had faded into a background of inconsequential +things. It had become a side issue, a thread in the tangled skein he had +pledged himself to unravel. When Molly had told him of the evidence +against Esther his interest had centered on the charge of kidnaping—the +monstrous and unbelievable charge of which she almost stood convicted. +Even now, as he looked at the box and remembered what he had hidden +there, it came to his memory not as another weapon to be used in her +defense, but as a souvenir of the moment when his present passion had +flamed into life. A picture rose of that night, the silver moon +spatterings, her hand, white in the white light, with the band on its +third finger. He opened the box to take it out—it was not there. + +He had seen it a few days before, was certain he had, shook up the +contents, then overturned the box, strewing the studs and pins on the +bureau. But it was fruitless—the band, crushed and flattened as he +remembered it, was gone. He muttered an angry phrase, its loss came as a +jar on the exaltation of his mood. Then a soft step on the staircase +caught his ear, and looking up he saw Willitts’ head rise into view. The +man came down the passage and spoke with his customary quiet deference: + +"I saw the car outside, sir, and knew you’d come back. Would you like +dinner—the cook says she can have it ready in a minute?" + +"No," Ferguson’s voice was short, "I dined in town. Look here, I’ve lost +something—" he pointed to the scattered jewelry—"I had a cigar band in +that box and it’s gone. Did you see it?" + +Willitts looked at the box and shook his head: + +"No, sir. A cigar band, a thing made of paper?" There was the faintest +suggestion of surprise in his voice. + +"Yes, you must have seen it. It was there a few days ago, underneath all +that truck—I saw it myself." + +The man again shook his head and, moving to the bureau, began to shift +the toilet articles and look among them. + +"I’m afraid I didn’t see it, sir, or if I did I didn’t notice. Maybe +it’s got strayed away somewhere." + +He continued his search, Ferguson watching him with moody irritation: + +"What the devil could have happened to it? I put it in there myself, put +it in that particular place for safekeeping." + +Willitts, feeling about the bureau with careful fingers, said: + +"Was it of any _value_, sir?" + +"Yes," Ferguson having little hope of finding it turned away and threw +himself into a chair, "it was of great value. I wouldn’t have lost it +for anything. It was evidence—" he stopped, growling a smothered "Damn." +He had said enough; he didn’t want the servants chattering. + +"I’m very sorry, sir, but it doesn’t seem to be here. Perhaps the +chambermaid threw it away, thinking it had got in the box by mistake." + +"I daresay—it sounds likely. I wish the people in this house would let +my room alone, control their mad desire for neatness and leave things +where I put them. Have the car taken to the garage, I’m not coming down +again. If any one calls up I’m out. Good-night." + +"Good-night, sir," said Willitts, and softly withdrew. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII—MOLLY’S STORY + + +After that Monday night when he went off in a rage, Ferguson didn’t show +up at Grasslands for several days and I had the place to myself and all +the time I wanted. Believe me, I wanted a lot and made use of it. While +the others were concentrating on the kidnaping—the big thing that had +absorbed all their interest—I went back to the job I was engaged for, +the robbery. And I went back with a fresh eye, the old idea cleared out +of my head by Mrs. Price’s confession. + +She’d explained the light, the light by the safe at one-thirty. With +that out of the way, I could get busy on the cigar band. I was just +aching to do it, for, as I’d told Ferguson, it was an A1 starting point. +Given that, there’s nothing more exciting in the world than tracking up +from it, following different leads, seeing if they’ll dovetail, putting +bits together like a picture puzzle. + +So I started in and for two days collected data, ferreted into the +movements of every person on the place, gossiped round in the village, +picked up a bit here and a scrap there, and made notes at night in my +room. I broke down Dixon’s dignity and had a long talk with him; I got +Ellen to show me how to knit a sweater and before I’d learnt had her +inside out. I spent two hours and broke my best scissors spoiling the +lock of the bookcase in my room and had Isaac up to try keys on it. When +I was done I knew the movements of everybody in the house on the night +of July seventh as if I’d personally conducted each one through that +important and exciting evening. + +It wasn’t love of the work alone, or the feeling that I ought to earn my +salary, that pushed me on. There was something else—I wanted to clear +Esther Maitland. I wanted it bad. I kept thinking of her eyes looking at +me when I gave her the drink of water and it made me sort of sick. In my +thoughts I kept telling my husband about it, and I always tried to make +out I’d acted very smart and some way or other I knew he wouldn’t think +so. It wasn’t that I felt guilty—I’d done nothing but what I was hired +for—but there’s a meanness about beating a person down, there’s a +meanness about staring into their white, twisted face and saying, +"Ha—Ha—you’re cornered and I did it!" You have to be awfully good +yourself to do that sort of thing. + +Thursday morning I’d got all I could and with my notes and my fountain +pen I went out on the side piazza by Miss Maitland’s study; there was a +table there and it was quiet and secluded. So I fixed everything +convenient and set to work. Taking the cigar band as the central point I +built up from it something like this: + +It had been dropped by a man—so few women smoke cigars you could put +that down as certain. It had been dropped between half-past eight when +the storm stopped and half-past ten when Miss Maitland found it. The man +could not be Mr. Janney who had driven both ways, nor Dixon or Isaac who +had walked to the village by the road and come back the same route. It +couldn’t have been Otto the chauffeur as he had stayed at Ferguson’s +garage visiting there with Ferguson’s men. The head gardener had gone to +the movies with the other Grasslands servants, and the under gardeners +had been in their own homes in the village as I had taken pains to find +out. Therefore it was no man living on the place at that time. + +But that it was some one who was familiar with the house and its +interior workings was proved by two facts:—that the dogs, heard to start +barking, had suddenly quieted down, and that a rose from Miss Maitland’s +dress had been found inside the safe. + +An expert burglar could have got round all the rest, had a key to the +front door, worked out the combination—the house was virtually empty for +over two hours—it was known that the family and servants were out. But +the most expert burglar in the world couldn’t have controlled those +dogs—Mrs. Price’s Airdale was as savage to strangers as a wolf and had a +bark on it like a steam calliope. + +The rose figured as a proof this way: It had been put inside the safe to +throw suspicion on Miss Maitland, the thief was aware that she knew the +combination. This would argue that he was acquainted with the habits of +the household. All social secretaries are not given the leeway Miss +Maitland was; all social secretaries aren’t given the combination of a +safe where two hundred thousand dollars’ worth of jewels are kept. The +man knew she had it, and tried to fix the guilt on her. Where his plan +slipped up was Mrs. Price coming later, finding the rose, salting it +down in a piece of tissue paper, and, for some reason of her own, not +saying a word about it. + +How did he get the rose? As far as I could see there was just one way. +Esther Maitland had spent part of the afternoon of July the seventh +altering her evening dress. Ellen had pinned it up on her and she’d +taken the waist down to her study to sew on as her room was too hot. +When she’d gone upstairs again—it was Ellen who gave me all this—she’d +left part of the trimming on the desk. The next morning the parlor maid +had given it to Ellen—all cut and picked apart, some of the roses loose +in a cardboard box—to put in Miss Maitland’s room. It had lain on the +desk all night and, in my opinion, the thief had either known it was +there or found it, taken the rose, and made his "plant" with it. + +Now one man who would be familiar to the dogs and might know Miss +Maitland’s privileges and habits, was Chapman Price. But it wasn’t he, +for at nine-thirty, the hour when the thief was busy, Mr. Price was +crossing the Queensborough bridge, headed for New York. And anyway, if +he hadn’t been, you couldn’t suspect him of trying to lay the blame on +the girl who was his partner. No—Chapman Price was wiped off the map +with all the rest of the Grasslands crowd. + +When I’d got this far I sat biting my pen handle and sizing it up. A +thief, professional, had taken the jewels. He was some one unknown, +having no connection with Mr. Price or Miss Maitland. The two crimes +that had nearly shaken the Janney family off its throne had been +committed by different parties. I was as sure of that as that the sun +would rise to-morrow. + +After dinner that evening I went out on the balcony and sat there, +turning it all over in my head, and looking at the woods, black-edged +and solid against the night sky. It was very still, not a breath, and +presently, off across the garden, I heard the gravel crunch under a +foot, a soft padding on the grass, and then a long, lean figure came +into the brightness that shot out across the drive from the hall behind +me—Ferguson. + +He dropped down on the top step, settled his back against one of the +roof posts, and took out a cigarette case. He was right where the light +shone on him, and I could see he had a serious, glum look which made me +think he still "had a mad on me" as they say on the east side. That +didn’t trouble me; people getting mad when they’ve a reason to never +does, and he’d reason enough, poor dear. + +Puffing out a long shoot of smoke, he said: + +"I’ve come over to speak to you about that idea of mine—that cigar band +I told you about." + +"Oh," I answered, "you’ve got round to that, have you?" + +"I have, or perhaps you might say half way around." + +"Well, I’m the whole way. I’ve spent three days getting there." + +"I thought you’d beat me to it. What have you arrived at?" + +"The certainty that the man who dropped the band was the thief." + +"We’re agreed at last. Have you gone far enough round to come to a +suspect?" + +"No, I’m stuck there." + +He blew out a ring, watched it float away into the darkness and said: + +"So am I. But I’ve a small, single compartment brain that can’t +accommodate more than one idea at a time. And it’s busy just now in +another direction. If you’ll put that forty horse-power one of yours on +this we ought to get round the whole way." He glanced sideways at me, +his eyes full of meaning. "You’ll find I can be a very grateful person." + +"Gratitude’s a kind of pay I like." + +"Yes—it’s stimulating and it can take more than one form." He flung away +the cigarette, leaned back against the post and said: "The worst of it +is that our main exhibit, the cigar band, is gone. I looked for it last +night and found it was lost." + +"Lost!" I sat up quick. He’d told me where he kept it and right off I +thought it was funny. "Gone out of that box you had it in?" + +"Yes. I wanted to see it when I came in—I’d been in town—and it wasn’t +in the box." + +"Had it been there recently?" + +"Um—I can’t tell just how recently—perhaps a week ago." + +"Did you ask about it?" + +"Yes, I asked Willitts. He said he hadn’t seen it." + +"Didn’t you tell me you kept studs and jewelry in that box?" + +"I did; that’s what it’s for. I don’t see how he could have helped +seeing it. I daresay he did and, thinking it was of no use, threw it +away and then, when he saw I wanted it, got scared and lied." + +A thing like a zigzag of lightning went through me. It stabbed down from +my head to my feet, giving my heart a whack as it passed. My voice +sounded queer as I spoke: + +"He could have known, couldn’t he, of that walk you and Miss Maitland +took, that walk when you found the band?" + +He had been looking, dreamy and indifferent, out into the darkness. Now +he turned to me, a little surprised, as if he was wondering at my +questions: + +"I suppose so. He knew all my crowd up there; they’re forever running +back and forth from one place to the other. They know everything, and +they’re the greatest gossips and snobs in the country. I’ve no doubt he +heard it talked threadbare—the boss walking home with Mrs. Janney’s +secretary. Probably gave their social sensibilities a jolt." + +Something lifted me out of my chair, carried me across the balcony, +plunked me down beside him on a lower step. I craned up my head near to +his and I’ll never forget the expression of his face, sort of blank, as +if he wasn’t sure whether I’d gone crazy or was going to kiss him. + +"Some one who knew the family, some one who knew it was out that night, +some one who knew Miss Maitland had the combination, some one who could +have got a key to the front door, some one _the dogs were friendly +with_!" + +He was staring at me as if he was hypnotized—getting a gleam of it but +not the full light. I put my hands on his shoulders and gave them a +shake. + +"You simp, wake up. It’s Willitts!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV—CARDS ON THE TABLE + + +In spite of Molly’s excited certainty that Willitts was the thief, +Ferguson was not convinced. He met her impetuous demand for the valet’s +arrest with a recommendation for a fuller knowledge of his activities on +the night of the robbery. Willitts had gone to the movies with the +Grasslands servants and if he had been with them the whole evening he +was as innocent as Dixon or Isaac. She had to agree and promised to do +nothing until she had satisfied herself that his movements tallied with +their findings. + +Ferguson had a restless night. There was matter on his mind to keep him +awake; he was fearful that Suzanne might make some false step. She was +at best a shifty, unstable creature, how much more so now strained to +the breaking point. He felt he ought to be in town where he could keep +her under his eye, and decided to motor in in the morning. Also he began +to think that Molly was probably right; she was shrewd and experienced, +knew more of such matters than he. He would go to the Whitney office and +put the Willitts’ affair in their hands, then run up to the St. +Boniface, take a room, and have a look in at Suzanne. + +He left the house at nine-thirty, telling the butler he was called to +the city on business, and might be gone a day or two. At the Whitney +office he was informed that Mr. and Mrs. Janney were in consultation +with the heads of the firm, and, saying he would not disturb them, +waited in an outer room from whence he telephoned to Suzanne, telling +her he would be at the hotel later. When the Janneys had gone he was +ushered into the old man’s office where he found the air still vibrating +with the clash of battle. A combined attack had been made on Mrs. Janney +who, under its pressure and the slow undermining of her confidence by a +week of failure, had given in and consented to a move on Price. It had +been planned for that afternoon, when he was to be summoned to the +office, charged with the kidnaping and commanded to render up the child. + +Whitney and his son listened to Ferguson’s story of the cigar band with +unconcealed interest. George, however, was skeptical—it was ingenious +and plausible, showed Molly’s fine Italian hand; but his mind had +accepted the theory of Esther’s participation and was of the unelastic, +unmalleable kind. His father was obviously impressed by it, admitting +that his original conviction of the girl’s guilt had been shaken. To +George’s indignant rehearsal of the evidence, he accorded a series of +acquiescing nods, agreed that the facts were against him and maintained +his stand. He would see Willitts as soon as possible and put him through +a grilling examination. O’Malley could be sent to Council Oaks at once +to bring him in, and his business could be disposed of before they got +round to Price. As Ferguson rose to go George had the receiver of the +desk telephone down and was giving low-voiced instructions to O’Malley +to report immediately at the office. + +It was nearly one when the young man found himself on the street level. +There was no use going to the St. Boniface now as the family would be at +lunch and speech alone with Suzanne impossible. On the way uptown he +stopped at a restaurant, ordered food which he hardly touched, filling +out the time with cigarettes. By half-past two he was on the move again, +threading a slow way through the traffic, his eye lingering on the clock +faces that loomed at intervals along the Avenue. Suzanne had told him +that the old people always went for a drive after lunch and he scanned +the motors that passed him, hoping to see them. He was in no mood for +polite conversation—felt with the passing of the hours an increasing +tension, a gathering of his forces for a leap and a struggle. + +At the desk in the St. Boniface he heard that Mr. and Mrs. Janney had +just gone out, and waited while Mrs. Price’s room was called up. There +was no response; Mrs. Price must be out too. The information made him +uneasy; she had told him she went nowhere except to Larkin’s. More than +ever anxious to see her, he engaged a room and left the message that he +would be there and to be called up when she came in. The door shut on +him, his uneasiness increased; wondering what had taken her out, +wondering if she had done anything foolish, cursing the fate that had +placed so much in her feeble hands, perturbed and restless as a lion in +a cage. + +Suzanne had gone to Larkin’s, called there by a telephone message. It +had come almost on the heels of her parents’ departure and was brief—a +request to come to him as soon as she could. She had scrambled into her +street clothes, and, shaking in every limb, slipped out of the hotel’s +side door and sped across town in a taxi to hear how Bébita was to be +found. + +She was hardly inside the door, her veil lifted from a face as pale as +Cæsar’s ghost, when Larkin answered her look of agonized question: + +"Yes, the letter’s come—what we expect, very clear and explicit. It was +sent to me this time—came on the two o’clock delivery." + +He turned to the desk and took up a folded paper. Before he could offer +it to her, she had leaned forward and snatched it out of his hand. +Instantly her eyes were riveted on the lines: + + "Mr. Horace Larkin, + + "_Dear Sir_: + + "In answer to the ad. in the _Daily Record_, we are dealing + through you as the agent named by Mrs. Price. We do this as we + realize that a lady of Mrs. Price’s type and experience would be + unable to handle alone so important a matter. Before we enter + into details we must again repeat our warnings—not only the + return of the child but her life is dependent on the actions of + her mother and yourself. If you are wise to this and follow our + instructions Bébita will be restored to her family on Saturday + night. + + "The plan of procedure must be as follows: At eight-thirty a + roadster, containing only the driver and marked by a + handkerchief fastened to the windshield, must leave the village + of North Cresson by the Cresson turnpike, at a rate of speed not + exceeding fifteen miles an hour. It must proceed eastward along + the pike for a distance of ten miles. Somewhere during this run + a car will pass it and from its tonneau flash an electric + lantern twice. Follow this car. Make no attempt to hail or to + overtake it. It will turn from the main road and proceed for + some distance. When it stops the driver of the roadster must + alight, place the money at a spot indicated, and submit, without + parley, to being bound and gagged. When this is done the child + will be left beside him. If agreed to insert following personal + in _The Daily Record_ of Saturday morning: 'James, meet you at + the time and place specified. Tom.’ + + "(Signed) _Clansmen_." + +The letter fluttered to the desk and Suzanne sank into a chair. Larkin +looked at her; his glance showed some anxiety but his voice was hearty +and encouraging: + +"Well, you agree, of course?" + +She nodded, swallowing on a throat too dry for speech. + +He picked up the letter and ran a frowning eye over it: + +"It simply confirms what I thought—old hands. It’s about as secure as +such a thing could be. I don’t see a loose end." + +She made no answer and he went on still studying the paper: + +"I’m not familiar with this country, but they wouldn’t have picked it +out unless it offered every chance of escape." + +"Escape!" she breathed. "They’ve _got_ to escape." + +It made him smile, the eye he turned on her showed a quizzical +amusement: + +"You’re almost talking like an accomplice, Mrs. Price." But he quickly +grew grave as he met her tragic glance. "Pardon me, I shouldn’t have +said that, but the fact is, with the climax in sight, I’m a bit on edge +myself." Then with a brusque change of tone, "Do you know this section +of Long Island?" + +"Yes, well—I’ve driven over it often." + +"Am I right in thinking there are numbers of roads leading from the +Cresson Turnpike?" + +"Lots of them, to the Sound and inland." + +"Umph!" he threw the letter on the desk and sat down, "I don’t think you +need worry about their getting away. Now we must settle this up and then +I’ll go out and have the ad inserted. We’ve got to hustle—they’ve only +given us a little over twenty-four hours." + +She looked dazedly at him and murmured: + +"What have we got to do?" + +"Why—" he was very gentle as to a stupid and bewildered child—"we have +to arrange about this car—our car, the one that gets the signal." + +"We can hire it, can’t we?" + +"Well, we could hire the car, but the driver—we can’t very well hire +him. He must be some one upon whom we can rely." + +She stared at him, her eyes dilating: + +"Yes, yes, of course. I’d forgotten that." + +"Is there any one you can suggest—any one that you _know_ you could +trust and who would be willing to undertake it?" + +"Yes," the word came with a sudden decision. "I know some one." Larkin +eyed her sharply. She looked more alive than she had done since her +entrance, seemed to be vitalized into a roused, responsive intelligence. +"I know exactly the person." + +"Entirely trustworthy?" + +"Absolutely. Mr. Ferguson—Dick Ferguson." + +"Oh, yes, Ferguson of Council Oaks." He mused a moment under her hungry +scrutiny. "Do you think he’d be willing to—er—agree to their demands as +you have?" + +"Yes, he’d do it to help me. He’s an old friend; I know him through and +through. He’d do it if I asked him." + +The detective was silent for a moment, then said: + +"Well, we have to have some one and if you’re willing to vouch for him +I’ll abide by what you say. Before you came in I was thinking of +offering to do it myself. But there are reasons against that. I don’t +mind helping you this way—quietly, on the side—but to be an actual +participant in the final deal, handle the money, be more or less +responsible for the person of the child—I’d rather not—I’d better not. +And anyway I think I can be more useful as an observer, an unsuspected +spectator who may see something worth while." + +She gave a stifled scream and caught at his hand, resting on the edge of +the desk: + +"No, no, Mr. Larkin, _please_, I beg of you. You’re not going to try and +catch them." + +Her fingers gripped like talons; he laid his free hand over them, +soothingly patting them: + +"Now, now, Mrs. Price, please have confidence in me. Am I likely, at +this stage of the game, to do anything to queer it?" + +She did not reply, her eyes shifting from his, her teeth set tight on +her quivering underlip. He waited a moment and then spoke with a new +note, dominating, authoritative, as one in command: + +"My dear lady, you’ve got to get hold of yourself. I can’t go on with +this if you don’t trust me. We’re launched on an enterprise by no means +easy and if we don’t pull together we’ll fail, that’s all." + +That steadied her. She dropped his hand and broke into tremulous +protestations: + +"I do, I do, Mr. Larkin. It’s only that I’m so terribly afraid, so upset +and desperate. Of course I trust you. Would I be here, day after day, if +I didn’t?" + +He was mollified, dropped back with the crisp, alert manner of the +detective. + +"All right, we’ll let it go at that. Now as to Ferguson—you’ll have to +get word to him at once. Is he in the country?" + +"No—he’s here. I had a telephone from him this morning to say he was in +town and would be at the hotel later in the day. He’s probably there +now, waiting for me." + +"Um!" Larkin considered for a moment. "That’s lucky. There’s no time to +waste. Get his consent and then ’phone me here. Just a word. And you +understand he’ll have to know the circumstances; he’ll have to be wise +to everything if he’s to play his part." + +Suzanne had lied so long and so variously that she did it with a natural +ease. No one, having seen her as Larkin had, would have guessed the +knowledge she hid. Her air of innocently comprehending his charge was a +triumph of duplicity. + +"Of course, I know, I understand. It’ll be a dreadful surprise to him +but he’ll see it as I do. And he’ll do what I ask—I’m as certain of that +as I am of his secrecy." + +She would have to have the letter to show him, and Larkin, after a last, +careful perusal of it, handed it to her. Then she went, cutting off his +heartening words of farewell, making her way out in a quick, noiseless +rush. At the desk in the hotel she learned that Ferguson was there, +asked to have him apprised of her return and sent at once to her sitting +room. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV—MOLLY’S STORY + + +The morning after that talk with Ferguson I rose up "loaded for bar." At +breakfast I led Dixon round to the old subject—we were good friends now +and he’d drop his professional manner when we were alone and talk like a +human being. Of course he remembered everything, and opened up as fluent +as a gramophone. Willitts hadn’t found them at the movies till nearly +ten—been delayed on his way in from Cedar Brook, his landlady’s little +girl had been took bad with croup and he’d gone for the doctor—Dr. +Bernard, who was off on a side road half way between Cedar Brook and +Berkeley. + +That ought to have been enough for me, but having started I thought I’d +clear it all up, so I borrowed a bike off Ellen and set out on the +double quick for Dr. Bernard’s. I saw Mrs. Bernard and heard all I +wanted. Willitts had been there on the night of July seventh, came on a +bicycle, saw the doctor and gave his message about the sick child. She +thought it was somewhere between eight and half-past—the storm was just +stopping. I lit out for home; I’d got it all now. He’d gone straight +from the doctor’s to Grasslands, taken the jewels, and made a short cut +back to the main road through the woods to where he’d hidden his wheel. + +When you get this far on a case there comes over you a sort of terror +that you may slip up. You have it all in your hand, your fingers are +stretched to lay hold on the criminal, and an awful fear takes +possession of you that right on the threshold of success you may lose. +The cup and the lip—that’s the idea. + +This seized me on the ride back to Grasslands. Why was the cigar band +gone if he wasn’t wise to what it meant? It was a powerful hot day, +smothering on the wood roads, but the way I made that machine shoot +you’d suppose it was a hard frost and I was peddling to get up my +circulation. He might be gone already, taken fright and skipped! I had a +vision of telling the Chief and what he’d say, and the perspiration came +out on me like the beads on a mint julep glass. I’d go to town right +now—there was an express at eleven—but before I left I’d call up Council +Oaks and find out if he was there. + +As I ran up the piazza steps the hall clock chimed out a single note, +half-past ten—I had plenty of time. I called to Dixon to order the +motor—I was going to town—whisked into the telephone closet, and made +the connection. The voice that answered lifted me up out of the +depths—for I guessed it was Willitts by the dialect, English, with the +"H’s" hanging on sort of loose and wobbly. To make sure I asked, and it +answered, smooth as a summer sea—yes, I was talking to Mr. Ferguson’s +valet, Willitts. Mr. Ferguson was not at ’ome, ’ed gone to the city to +be away a day or two. Was there any message? There wasn’t—you could bet +on that—and I eased off in a high-class society drawl. + +With a deep breath I dropped back to normal, smoothed my feathers, +powdered my nose, and when the motor came round looked like a shy little +nursery governess, snitching a day off in town. + +It was at the station that something happened which ended my peaceful +state and gave me an experience I’ll remember as long as I live. + +Just as I was stepping on the train I took a glance back along the +platform and there, close behind me, dressed as neat as a tailor’s +dummy, was Willitts with a bag in his hand. He didn’t notice me, and if +he had he wouldn’t have known me, for I’d only passed him once in the +village and then he wasn’t looking my way. I mounted up the steps and +went into the car. From the tail of my eye I saw him in the doorway and +when he’d taken the seat in front of me, I dropped against the back of +mine, saying to myself: "Hully Gee, he’s _going_!" + +All the way into town, I sat with my eyes on his hat, thinking what I’d +better do. There was one thing certain—that stood out like the writing +on the wall—I mustn’t let him out of my sight. Where he went I’d have to +go, tight as a barnacle I’d have to stick to that desperado. I tried to +think how I could get a message to the Whitneys’ office, but I didn’t +see how I was going to find the time or the opportunity. If the worst +came to the worst I could call a cop, but if I knew anything of men like +Willitts, he’d keep a watch out like a warship for periscopes, for +anything that wore brass buttons and connected with the law. + +The "Penn" station was as hot as a Turkish bath and through it you can +imagine me, trying to trip light and airy, and keeping both eyes as +tight as steel rivets on that man’s back. I’ve never shadowed +anybody—it’s not been included in my college course—all I knew was I +mustn’t lose him and I mustn’t get him suspicious, and if you’re making +away with a fortune in a handbag, suspicion ought to be your natural +state. So I trailed after him as far in the rear as I dared, sometimes, +a gang rushing for a train coming in between us, sometimes the space +clear with him hurrying to the exit and me sort of loitering and gawking +up at the maps on the ceiling. + +Out in the street he turned and shot a glance like a searchlight round +behind him. It swept over me and took no notice, which was considerable +of an encouragement. If it was warm in the station, it was sizzling +outside. Men were carrying their coats on their arms, some of them using +palm leaf fans, careful ones keeping to the edge of shade along the +house fronts. But Willitts didn’t mind the sun; I guess when you’re +making off with a fortune you’re indifferent to temperature—it’s another +proof of mind over matter. + +After walking down Seventh Avenue for a few minutes he turned to the +left and struck across a side street to Sixth. Half way down the block +he went into a men’s furnishing store, and sauntering slow past the +window, I saw him looking at collars. There was a stationer’s just +beyond and I cast anchor there, by a counter near the door set out with +magazines. A sales girl lounged up, chewing her gum like the heat had +made her languid, and looking interested over my clothes. + +"Awful warm, ain’t it?" she said, and I answered, picking up a magazine: + +"It’s something fierce. I’ll take this one." + +"You got that one already," says she, pointing to the magazine I’d +bought at Berkeley and was still clinging to. "Don’t you wanna try +something new?" + +"Oh—it’s the heat; the sun gets my head woozy." I picked out another and +gave her a dollar, the smallest change I had. As she was walking to the +cash register, Willitts passed the door and I was out on the sill, +moving cautious to the sidewalk. + +"Say," comes the girl’s voice from behind me, "what are you doin’? You +ain’t got your change yet. You’d oughtn’t to be let out in this sun." + +"Keep it," I called back. "I was a working girl once myself." + +At the corner of Fifth Avenue he stopped and, a bus coming along, he +haled it. "Lord," thought I, "if he gets into that without me I’ll have +to run after it and they’ll arrest me for a lunatic." Being quite a ways +behind, I had to make a dash for it, waving my magazine and hollering +like the rubes from the country. He was up on the roof, and the bus was +moving when I lit on the step, and was hauled in friendly by the +conductor. + +We jolted downtown, me sitting sideways in a rear seat watching the +stairs for Willitts’ legs. It wasn’t until we were below Twenty-third +Street that they came into view, stepping lightly down. The bus heaved +up against the curb and he swung off, me behind him. I was terribly +scared that he’d begin to suspect me, and all I could think of that +would look natural was to roll my eyes flirtatious at the conductor, who +seemed to like it so much I was afraid he wouldn’t let me off. + +When I got down on the pavement Willitts was walking along the cross +street back toward Sixth Avenue. Midway down the block, he stopped and +disappeared through a doorway. I was quite a piece behind him and when I +saw him fade out of sight I forgot everything and ran. At the door I +came up short, panting and purple in the face—the place was a +restaurant. It had a large plate glass window with white letters on it +and a man making pancakes where he’d show plainest. Inside I could see +Willitts seating himself at a littered up table. + +"Lunch!" I said to myself. "He’s going to eat, the cool devil. Now’s my +chance!" + +Almost directly opposite was a drug store with telephone booths close to +the window. I could get a message to the office, and if I caught the +chief or Mr. George, I could have a man up in twenty minutes. If they +weren’t there I’d try headquarters, but I was afraid of that—they’d ask +questions, waste time, want to know who I was and what it was all about. +If only Willitts was hungry, if he’d only eat enough to last till I got +some one, if he’d only order pancakes. As I waited for the connection I +found myself sort of praying "Pancakes—make him order pancakes. They’re +made in the window and they take quite a while. _Please_ make him eat +pancakes!" + +Right in the midst of my prayer came the voice of Miss Quinn, the +switchboard girl in the office, and for me it was: + +"Quick, Miss Quinn—it’s Mrs. Babbitts. Is Mr. Whitney or Mr. George +there? Give ’em to me—on the jump—if they are." + +She didn’t waste a word, and in a minute Mr. George’s voice came sharp: + +"Hello, who is it?" + +"Molly, Mr. George. And I’ve got Willitts—and I’ve got enough on him to +know he’s the thief—I can’t tell you now but—" + +He cut in with: + +"I know, I know, Ferguson’s told us. O’Malley’s here now going to +Council Oaks for him." + +I almost screamed: + +"Send him _here_. Willitts is off; he’s left and I’ve trailed him. I’m +waiting at the door and he’s inside." + +"Inside _what_, where the devil are you?" + +I gave him the directions and then: + +"It’s a restaurant; he’s eating. But it may only be a doughnut and a +glass of milk. If it’s pancakes we’re safe, but a man lighting out with +a fortune in a handbag don’t generally want anything so filling. I’ll +follow him until I drop, but I don’t want to travel round with a jewel +thief unless I have to." + +"I’ll send O’Malley now. You stay right there and if Willitts finishes +before he comes, hold him any way you can. Get a cop. I’ll ’phone to +headquarters for a warrant. So long." + +Of course I thought of the cop, but spying out from the doorway, there +wasn’t one in sight. And by this time I was considerably worked up, +afraid to move in any direction, afraid to take my eyes from the +restaurant entrance. I pulled up one of the chairs they have for people +getting prescriptions filled, and sat down by the doorway, watching the +place opposite, like a cat camped in front of a mouse hole. + +Ten minutes had passed. If the traffic wasn’t too thick on Broadway +O’Malley could make it in less than twenty. But the traffic _was_ +thick—it was the middle of the day; if he was stalled or had to make a +detour it might run toward half an hour. He might be—The door of the +restaurant opened and out crept the mouse. + +The cat rose up, soft and stealthy, with her claws ready. As I crossed +the street I sent a look both ways—not a taxi in sight, not a cop, only +the whole thoroughfare tangled up with drays and delivery wagons. There +was nothing for it but to stop him, first put out the velvet paw and +then shoot the claws. Jumping quick on the curb I came up alongside of +him, a smile on my face that felt like the grin you get when you make a +joke that no one sees. + +"Why, _hullo_," I said, going at him with my hand out, "I couldn’t at +first believe it—but it _is_ you." + +He drew up quick, all on the alert, looking at me with hard, ferret +eyes. + +"Who are you?" he said, fierce and forbidding. "What do you want?" + +I put my head sideways, and tried to take the curse off the smile, +changing it to a sort of trembly sweetness. + +"Why, _don’t_ you know me? I can’t be changed that bad. It’s Rosie." + +I didn’t know what his Christian name was and anyway, if I had it +wouldn’t have helped—a man like Willitts changes his name as often as he +does his address. But I had to call him something, so when I saw the +anger rising in his eyes, I said, all broken and tender like the +deserted wife in the last act: + +"Dearie, don’t pretend you don’t remember me—it’s Rosie from the old +country." + +He began to look savage, also alarmed: + +"I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never saw you before in my +life." + +He made a movement to pass on, but I drew up close, wiped off the smile, +and put on the look of true love that won’t let go. + +"Oh, dearie, don’t say that. Haven’t I worn the soles off my shoes +hunting for you ever since, ever since—" Gee, I didn’t know how to +finish it, then it came in a flash. I moaned out, "ever since we +parted." + +"Look ’ere, young woman," he said, low, with a face on him like a meat +ax, "this doesn’t go with me. Now get out; get off or I’ll ’ave you run +in." + +I knew he wouldn’t do _that_; he’d hand over the jewels first. I raised +up my voice in a wail and said: + +"Oh, dearie, you’re faking; I won’t believe it. You can’t have +forgot—back in the old country, me and you." + +A messenger boy, slouching by, heard me and drew up, hopeful of some +fun. Willitts saw him and began to look like murder would be added to +his other offenses. I gave a glance up the street—still only drays and +wagons, not a taxi in sight. Fatima with Sister Anne reporting from the +tower, had nothing over me for watchful waiting. + +"It’s Rosie," I whined, "it’s your own little Rosie. If I don’t look the +same it’s the suffering you’ve caused me and Gawd knows it." + +I laid my hand on his arm. With a movement of fury he shook it off and +began to back away from me. Another boy had come up against the +messenger and lodged there like a leaf in a stream, caught in an eddy. I +heard him say, "What’s on?" and the other answered: + +"Don’t know but I guess it’s the movies." + +And they both looked round for the camera man. + +I don’t think Willitts heard them. His back was that way and his face to +me, hard as iron and savage as a hungry wolf’s. He tried to speak low +and soothing: + +"Now ’old your tongue, don’t make such a fuss. I’ll give you something +and you go off quiet and respectable." His hand felt in his pocket and I +raised a loud, tearful howl: + +"_Money!_ Is it money you’re offering? What’s money to me whose heart +you’ve broken?" + +"I don’t see no camera man," came the messenger boy’s voice. + +"Aw, he’s in one of them wagons," said the other. "I’ve seen ’em in +wagons." + +The perspiration was on Willitts’ forehead in beads, he was whitening +round the mouth. Putting his face close down to mine he breathed out +through his teeth: + +"What in ’ell do you want?" + +"_You!_" I cried and out of the tail of my eye I saw a taxi shoot round +the corner from Fifth Avenue. Willitts drew away from me, shrunk +together for a race. I saw it and I knew even now, with O’Malley +plunging through the traffic, it might be too late. Embracing is not my +strong suit, no man but my lawful husband ever felt my arms about him. +But duty’s a strong word with me and then my sporting blood was up. So +with my teeth set, I just made a lunge at that crook and clasped him +like an octopus. + +I didn’t know a man was so much stronger than a woman. Willitts wasn’t +much taller than I and he was a thin little shrimp, but believe me, he +was as tough as leather and as slippery as an eel. I could see the two +boys, delighted, drinking it in, and a dray man in a jumper, drop a +crate and come up on the run, bawling: "Say, you feller, let the lady +alone," The boys chorused out: "Aw, keep out—it’s the movies!" Willitts +must have heard too, and I guess he saw his chance, for he suddenly +squirmed one arm loose, and whang! came a blow on the side of my head. +It might have seemed part of the play but he did it too hard—calculated +wrong in his excitement. I let go, seeing everything—the houses, the +sky, the crowd that seemed to start up out of the pavements—whirling +round and shot over with zigzags. There was a roaring noise in my ears +and all about, and I dropped over into somebody’s arms, things getting +swimmy and dark. + +When I came out of it I was sitting on a packing box with a man fanning +me and O’Malley, red as a tomato and Willitts the color of ashes in the +middle of a mob. There was a terrible hubbub, people jamming together, +the wagons stopped and the drivers yelling to know what was up, heads +out of every window, and then two policemen, fighting their way through. +I felt queer, sickish, and as if the muscles of my face were all slack +so my mouth wouldn’t stay shut. But the gentleman fanning me acted awful +kind and a clerk came out of a store with ice water and a wet +handkerchief that he patted soft on the side of my head. + +I could see O’Malley and the policeman (they’d come from headquarters I +heard afterward) go off into a vestibule with Willitts and the crowd +that couldn’t get a look-in came squeezing round me, heads peering up +over heads. They’d got the idea that Willitts was my husband, seeming to +think only a lawful spouse would dare to hit a woman before witnesses in +the public street. The guys in the front were explaining it to the guys +in the back and calling Willitts names I couldn’t put down in these +refined pages. + +It got me laughing, especially when an old Jew who had been sizing me up +like a piece of goods nodded slow and solemn and said: "And she ain’d zo +bad lookin’ neither." I burst right out at that and the man with the fan +waved his arms at them, shouting: + +"Give way there—back—back! She wants air—she’s hysterical. She’s gone +through more than she can bear." + +Gee, how I laughed! + +Presently in the center of a surging mass we crowded our way to the +taxi, the policemen going in front and hitting round light with their +clubs. O’Malley with Willitts handcuffed to him got in the back seat, me +opposite, with my hat off, holding the handkerchief against my head. As +we pulled out I looked back over the sea of faces and caught the eye of +one of the policemen. He straightened up, very serious and dignified, +and saluted. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI—THE COUNTER PLOT + + +Ferguson’s knock on Suzanne’s door was promptly answered by the lady +herself, still in her hat and wrap. She clutched at him as she had done +when he came to her in her dark hour, drawing him into the room and +gasping her news. He was in no mood to follow her ramblings and, as soon +as she spoke of a letter, interrupted her with a brusque demand for it. +After he had mastered its contents he told her to ’phone at once to +Larkin that it was all right, and while she delivered the message, stood +by studying the paper. When she turned back to him he laid his hands on +her shoulders and looked into her eyes. The touch that once would have +sent the blood burning to her cheeks called up no responsive thrill now: + +"This lets you out—it’s the end of your responsibility. Your part now is +to be quiet and wait. To-morrow night you’ll have Bébita back. Just nail +that up in your mind and keep your eyes on it." + +"Back where? Will you bring her here?" + +It was so like her—so indicative of a mental attitude invariably small +and personal, that he could have smiled: + +"I can’t say, but probably Grasslands. The end of the route laid down +isn’t so far from there." + +"Shall I go back to Grasslands?" + +He pondered a moment, then decided it was wiser to trust nothing to her, +even so simple a matter as her withdrawal to the country. + +"No, stay where you are. There’d be a lot of questioning if you went, +bothersome, hard to answer. When we have her I’ll let you know. For the +rest of this afternoon I’ll be in town, in my room here on the floor +below. If anything of moment should happen send for me, but don’t unless +it’s vital. I’ll be busy getting things ready. Be silent, be grave, be +hopeful—that’s all you have to do now." + +He left her, going directly to his room on a lower floor of the hotel. +She felt numb and dazed, wondering how she was to live through the next +twenty-four hours. Her parents returned from their drive and close on +their entrance came a communication from the Whitney office, saying the +jewels had been found and Mr. and Mrs. Janney were wanted downtown. In +the midst of their bustling excitement she sat mute, following their +movements with vacant eyes. She saw them leave in agitated haste, Mr. +Janney forgetful of her, her mother throwing out phrases of comfort as +she hurried to the door. She was glad when they were gone and she could +be still, draw all her energies inward in the fight for endurance and +courage. + +His coat off, the windows wide for such breaths of air as floated across +the heated roofs, Ferguson paced back and forth with a long, even +stride. His uncertainty was ended, the tension relaxed; he stood face to +face with the event and measured it. + +His assurances to Suzanne that he would make no attempt to apprehend the +kidnapers had been sops thrown to pacify her terror. He had no more +intention of a supine acquiescence than Mrs. Janney would have had. +Beyond the clearing of Esther, stood out the man’s desire to bring to +justice the perpetrators of a foul and dastardly deed. Now, with their +cards laid on the table, it rose higher, burned into a steady, hot blaze +of rage and resolution. + +But between his desire and its fulfilment stretched a maze of +difficulties. He saw at once what Larkin had seen—that their plan was as +nearly impregnable as such a plan could be. Though he knew every mile of +the country they had selected, he knew that the chances of waylaying or +flanking them were ten to one against him. Numerous roads, north and +south, led from the Cresson Pike, some to the shore drive along the +Sound, some inland crossing the various highways that threaded the +center of the Island. Any one of these might be chosen as the road down +which their car would turn, and any one of them, winding through woods +and lonely tracts of country, would offer avenues of escape. + +He thought of stationing men along the designated route but it would +take an army, impossible to gather at such short notice and impossible +to place without his opponent’s cognizance. Hundreds of men could not be +picketed along a ten-mile stretch of highway without those who were the +authors of so daring a scheme being aware. They would be on the watch; +no move of such magnitude could be hidden from them. It would be the +same if he called in the police. They would know it, and what could the +police do that he could not do more secretly, more efficiently? + +A following car was also out of the question. There was no reason to +suppose that they would not have several cars of their own, passing and +repassing him, making sure that he was unescorted. The threats of injury +to the child he had set down as efforts to reduce Suzanne to a paralyzed +silence. But if they saw an attempt was on foot to trap them they might +not show up at all—go as they had come, unknown and unsighted, their car +lost among the procession of motors that passed along the Cresson Pike. +Then taken fright, they might not dare another effort, might drop out of +sight with their hostage unredeemed. A chill crept over the young man, +he had a dread vision of the old people’s despair, of Suzanne +distraught, crazed perhaps. It behooved him to run no risks; to make +sure of the child was his first duty, to strike at her abductors his +second. + +The course he finally decided on was the only one that made Bébita’s +restoration certain and offered a possibility of routing his opponents. +At the hour named he would place on the road six motors, driven by his +own chauffeurs and garage men, and entering the turnpike at intervals of +ten minutes. Three would start from its eastern end, meeting him en +route, three from its western, strung out behind him, now and then +speeding up, overhauling him and passing on. Of a summer’s Saturday +night the Cresson Pike was full of vehicles, and the six, merged in the +shifting stream, would suggest no connection with him or his mission. + +Where his hope of success lay was that one of these satellites, to whom +the character and marking of his roadster would be visible at some +distance, might be within sight when he was signaled and see him turn +into the branch road. Its business would be to wait until another of the +fleet came up, pass the word, and the two follow on his tracks. This +halt would give the kidnapers time to complete the transaction, get the +money, give up the child, and bind him. If they were interrupted the +situation would be too perilous to permit of delay—he had thought of an +attack on the child—and if they had finished and gone the rescuing cars +could fly in pursuit. + +He was far from satisfied with it; it was very different from the +schemes he had had in his head before he measured his resourcefulness +against theirs. He dropped into a chair, sunk in moody contemplation of +its deficiencies. The men he had to rely on were not the right kind, +loyal and willing enough, but without the boldness and initiative +necessary to such an enterprise. He wanted a lieutenant, some one he +could look to for quick, independent action if the affair took an +unexpected turn. You couldn’t tell how it might develop, and he, pledged +to his ungrateful rôle, would be powerless to meet new demands, might +not know they had arisen. + +He was roused by a knock on the door. It surprised him for his presence +in the city was unknown except to his own household and the Janney +family. Then he thought of Suzanne coming down to him to pour out her +fears, and his "Come in" was harsh and unwelcoming. In answer to it the +door opened and Chapman Price entered. + +Ferguson rose, looking at his visitor, startled and silent. His surprise +was caused by the man’s appearance, by a fierce disturbance in the +handsome face, pale under its swarthy tan, by the eyes, agate-black and +gleaming in a bovine glare. He had seen Chapman angry but never just +like this, and from a state, keyed to anticipate any new shock from any +direction, said: + +"What’s happened now?" + +Price had closed the door and backing up, leaned against it. His answer +came, hoarse and broken: + +"I’ve been to those hounds, the Whitneys." + +It illuminated the ignorance of his listener, who was readjusting his +mind for a reply when the other burst into a storm of invective against +the lawyers and the Janneys. It broke like a released torrent, sentences +stumbling on one another, curses mingled with wild accusations, its +cause revealed in a final cry of: "Stolen—my child—kidnaped—gone!" + +Through Ferguson’s head, full of weightier matters, flashed a vision of +Chapman raging at the Whitneys and a wonder as to what effect his rage +had had. Kicking a chair forward he spoke with a dry quietness: + +"That’s all right—you needn’t bother to go over it. Pull yourself +together and sit down." + +But he might as well have counseled self-control to an angry lion. The +man, still standing against the door, jerked out: + +"I can get nothing from any of them. They know nothing. They’ve let all +this time pass—following _me_, suspecting _me_. I don’t know why I +didn’t kill them!" + +"Probably because you’ve sense enough left not to complicate what’s +complicated enough already. What brought you here?" + +He seemed unable to answer any direct question, staring with dilated +eyes, his thoughts fastened on the subject of his pain: + +"Spent a week—lost a week! Good God, Dick, they ought to be held +responsible. Where is she? Not one of them knows—not an effort made. +She’s gone, lost, been stolen, spirited away, while they’ve been sitting +in their office, turning their d——d detectives loose on me." + +"Look here, Chapman, I’m not saying you’re not right, but the milk’s +spilled and it’s no good trying to pick it up. If you’ll sit down and +listen to me—" + +Price cut him off, leaving his post by the door to begin a distracted +striding about the room: + +"I couldn’t stand it—when I’d got it through me I left. Then I tried to +get hold of Suzanne—telephoned her, here somewhere in this place. She’s +half crazy, I think—I don’t wonder, she’s fonder of Bébita than anything +in the world. She wouldn’t see me, crying and moaning out that she +couldn’t, that she couldn’t bear any more. And when I begged—I thought +that she and I might arrange some combined effort, that whatever we had +been we were partners _now_ in this—she told me to come to you, that you +could tell me more, that you could help." He swerved round on Ferguson, +the hard passion of his glance softened to a despairing urgency, "For +God’s sake, do. I’m penniless, I know almost nothing except that I’ve +got to act now, at once, before any more time is lost. Give me a hand, +help me to find her." + +Ferguson’s voice had an element of endurance in its level tones: + +"That’s just what I want to do. And if you’ll stop talking and let me +explain, you’ll see I’m on the way to do it. But it’s not _my_ help that +you want, it’s the other way round—_I_ want _yours_." + +It was almost dark and Ferguson turned on the lights. Under their thin, +white radiance, the two men sat, drawn close to the open window, and +Ferguson told his story. The other listened, the storm of his anger +gone, his dark face growing keen and hard as he heard the plan unfolded. +An hour later they parted, Price to go to Council Oaks and lie low there +until the following night when he would command the fleet of motors in +the chase along the Cresson Turnpike. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII—NIGHT ON THE CRESSON PIKE + + +The night fell stifling and airless, unfortunately favorable for the +kidnapers, as the sky was covered with clouds and the country wrapped in +a thick darkness. + +At half-past eight the roadster, with Ferguson driving, glided into the +little village of North Cresson and swung out into the Cresson Turnpike. +Ten minutes behind him was his touring car with Saunders, his chauffeur, +at the wheel. Twenty minutes later a limousine was to strike into the +pike from a road just beyond the village, and a runabout, emerging from +an opposite direction, complete the chain. At the other end of the +ten-mile limit Chapman Price in the black racer, was running up from the +shore drive, with two satellites, one his own motor, one a hired Ford, +strung out behind him. + +Of a hot summer night at this hour the pike was alive with autos; +returning holiday-makers, city dwellers taking a spin in the country to +cool off, joy riders rioting by, belated business men speeding to the +sea-side for the Sunday rest. They bore down on Ferguson like a +procession of fleeing monsters with round, goblin eyes staring in +affright. They came from behind, swinging across his path in a blur of +dust, laughter and shrill cries rising from their crowded tonneaus. +Keeping to their narrow track between the borders of the fields they +were like a turbulent, flashing torrent, dividing the darkness with a +stream of streaked radiance, cutting the silence with a current of +continuous sound. + +Ferguson’s glance ranged ahead, dazzled by the glare of advancing lamps +that enlarged on his vision, grew to a blinding haze and swept by. He +could see little, blackness and brightness alternating, the motors +emerging as dim solidities, realized for a passing moment, then gone. +Once a small car, cutting across his bows from a side road, made him +slacken, but it slowed round showing the gnarled face of a farmer with a +fat woman on the seat beside him and a bunch of children behind. + +As he went on the press of vehicles thinned, the line of the road showed +bare for longer stretches. The runabout overhauled him, kept by his side +for a few yards, then drew ahead, its red tail lantern receding with an +even, skimming smoothness; a spot, a spark, nothing. He calculated he +had covered nearly half the distance when the black racer passed in a +soft, purring rush, his eye, through the yellow fog that preceded it, +catching a glimpse of Price’s face. Then came a long, straight level +between fields where only two cars went by, both going cityward. He +looked back and tried to see the road behind him, straining his vision +for a following shape, but the darkness lay close and unbroken, no +goblin eyes peering through it in anxious pursuit. + +The road took a dive into woods, black as a cavern, the air breathless. +It wound in sharp curves, his lamps sending their swinging rays into +thickets, then out again on a hilltop, and down, swooping with a long, +smooth glide into a valley. Here the touring car passed him and he met a +limousine, traveling at a pace as sober as his own, in its lit interior +two men talking; after that a farmer’s wagon drawn up against the +roadside grasses, the horse prancing in fractious fear. Then nobody—a +wide strip of open country with the sky setting down like an arched lid +over the low circular surface of the land. + +It was very still and his listening ear caught the buzzing hum of a +vehicle behind him. This time he did not turn but drew off further to +the right, and a closed coupé swung by, with the jarring rattle of an +old and loose-geared body. He was on the alert at once, its hooded shape +suggesting secrecy, the surrounding loneliness apt for its design. Its +tail light cast a bobbing, crimson blot on the bed and he saw its back, +dust-grimed and rusty, and the numbered oblong of its license tag. That +caused his expectancy to drop—the tag stood for respectability and +honest wayfaring, then, with a quickened leap of his heart, he realized +that its speed was slackening. It slowed down to his own gait, and at +the limit of his lamp’s illumination, moved before him, a square bulk, +its back cut by a small window. He felt sure now, and with his hand on +the wheel took a look over his shoulder. In the distance, cresting a +rise, he saw two golden dots, too far for a speedy overtaking, and even +if that were possible he had no reason to suppose they belonged to any +of his followers. + +A belt of woods spread across the way and the road entered it as if +tunneling a vault. It wound, looped and twisted, tree trunks and leafy +hollows starting out as the long bright tubes swept over them. As one of +these, slewing wide in a sharper turn, crossed the bank of the forward +car, Ferguson saw an arm extended and from the hand a white spark flash +twice. Almost immediately the coupé turned to the left, and plunged into +a by-way, black as a pocket, the woods’ thick growth crowding on its +edges. + +The roadbed was good and the leading car accelerated its speed racing +onward under the arching boughs. Ferguson, close on its heels, knew that +the sounds of their going would be muffled by the enshrouding woodland, +absorbed in its woven density. No chance either of meeting any one; the +way was one of those forest trails, sought by the rich on their +afternoon drives, but at night deserted by all but the birds and the +squirrels. Cursing at the failure of his schemes, powerless now to +protest or to retaliate, he followed until he knew by a freshening of +the air that they were near the Sound. The coupé’s speed began to lessen +and it came to a halt. + +Ferguson drew up a few rods behind it. He could see the trees about him +picked out in detail and behind them the engulfing darkness. The machine +in front still seemed to shake and vibrate; he caught the sound of a +step and then a voice, a man’s, deep and low-keyed: + +"This is the place. Get out." + +He jumped to the ground, discerning a shape by the coupé’s door. He +advanced, peering through his lantern’s intervening glare, and made out +it was alone. Stung with a quick fear, he halted and said. + +"Where’s the child?" + +"Here. Put the money on the rock to your right." + +The man came forward, a raised hand pointing to where the top of a rock +showed among the wayside grasses. From the lifted hand, the light struck +a silvery gleam, touching the barrel of a revolver. Ferguson, without +moving said: + +"I must see her first." + +He thought he detected a moment’s hesitation, then the man stepped back +to the car and called a gruff: + +"All right—quick—look." + +He swung the coupé door open and from an electric torch in his left hand +sent a ray into the interior. The white shaft pierced the murk like a +pointing finger. Its circular end, a spot of livid brightness, played on +Bébita curled on the floor asleep. Ferguson saw her as if cut from an +encompassing blackness, transparently clear like a picture suspended in +a void. Then the ray was extinguished, and as he stood, blinking against +the obscurity, heard the man’s voice, "The money—on the rock there," and +caught the gleam of the revolver barrel level with his eyes. + +He walked to the rock and laid the money, in an envelope clasped with +rubber bands, on its flat surface. The whole thing seemed to him like a +cheap melodrama and he could have laughed as he righted himself and saw +the round, shining end of the revolver covering him, and the silent +figure behind it. + +"Come on," he said, "get to the rest. You tie me—where?" + +"The oak—behind you." + +It was a large-sized tree back from the edge of the road, and he walked +to it hearing the man trampling the underbrush in his wake. He had a +sense of a dreamlike quality in the whole fantastic performance, as if +he might wake up suddenly and find he’d been having a nightmare. + +But there was nothing dreamlike in the force with which the rope was +thrown about him and tightened round the tree. As he felt it strained +across his chest, lashed round his legs, girding him to the trunk close +at its bark, he recognized expertness and strength in the hands that +bound him. The thing was done with extraordinary speed and deftness, and +ended by a lump of waste, that smelled of gasoline, being thrust into +his mouth. + +The heavy tread moved again through the underbrush, the man passed to +the rock, and, his back to Ferguson, crouched on the light’s edges +counting the money. Ferguson saw him in silhouette, a large, humped body +with bent head. This done, he went to the door of the coupé and lifted +out the child. He had some difficulty in getting hold of her, muttered +an oath, then drew her out, carried her to the roadside and set her down +on the grass. There was a moment when he crossed the full gush of +illumination and Ferguson had a clear glimpse of him, a chauffeur’s cap +on his head, the lower part of his face covered by a thick beard. +Returning to his car, he jumped in. Its lurching start broke into a +sudden flight, it rushed; Ferguson could hear the bounding of stones, +the creaking and wrenching of its body as it hurtled down the road. + + +[Illustration: _Ferguson saw him in silhouette, a large, humped body +with bent head_] + + +Silence settled, the deep, dreaming quiet of the woods. The young man +tried to struggle, to writhe and work himself loose, but his bonds held +fast, and he found himself choked for air, stifling and snorting over +his gag. He gave it up and looked at the child. By straining his eyes he +could just see her, a small, relaxed body, one hand outflung, her +profile, held in a trance-like sleep, marble white against the grass. A +hideous fear assailed him:—she might be dead. Some drug had evidently +been administered to keep her quiet—an overdose! He wrenched and pressed +at the cords, almost strangled and had to stop, the sweat pouring into +his eyes, his heart pounding on the rope that cut into his chest. He +called on his will, felt himself steadied, his smothered breath came +easier, the only sound on the silence. + +Then another broke upon it, far away, from the direction of the Sound—a +thin, clear report. He stiffened, all his faculties strained to listen, +heard it again, several in a spattering run, dropping distinct, like +little globules piercing the stillness. "Shooting!" he thought with a +wild surge of excitement, "out toward the water—Oh, Lord, have they got +him?" + +He listened again, but heard nothing. And then from the ground rose a +moaning breath, a sleepy cry—Bébita was awake. He wrenched his head till +he could see her plainly, her face turned upward, the eyes still closed, +the forehead puckered with a look of pain. He tried to emit some word, +heard it only as a guttural mutter, and watching, saw her stir, the +out-stretched arm sway upward, her eyes open, dazed and heavy, and heard +her drowsy whimper of, "Mummy," and then, "Oh, Annie, where are you?" +Slowly, her head moving as her glance swept the unfamiliar prospect, she +sat up. + +He remembered the next few minutes as something incredibly horrible, the +child’s consciousness clearing to an overwhelming fear. She looked +about, saw him, scrambled to her feet and began to scream, shrill, +terrified cries, crouching away from him like a scared animal. She made +a rush for the motor, climbing in, cowering down, calling on the names +that meant safety: "Mummy! Oh, Mummy! Gramp, Daddy—Come! _Come_ to me!" + +An answer came, the hollow bray of a motor horn, the shout of a man’s +voice, then the twin spears of light, the whirring buzz of a machine +shooting out of the road’s dark tunnel—Chapman Price in the black car. +He leapt out and ran to her, caught her up, strained her to him, held +her head back to look into her face, kissed her, babbled words of love +that broke on his lips and he hid his face on her neck. She twined round +him, arms and legs clutching and clinging, sobbing out, "Popsy, Popsy!" +over and over. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII—THE MAN IN THE BOAT + + +Price took Bébita to Grasslands, handed her over to Annie and telephoned +in to the Janneys. Then he left to rejoin Ferguson who was to go to the +shore and find out the meaning of the shots. Price, missing the leading +car, had decided that it had turned from the pike and scouring the side +roads in a blind chase had heard the shots, agreeing with Ferguson that +they came from the direction of the Sound. + +Ferguson went that way, driving at breakneck speed. He had almost +reached the shore, felt the water’s coolness, saw the wood’s vista widen +when, to avoid a deep rut, he slewed his machine to the left. The lights +penetrated a thicket, revealing behind the woven foliage, a dark, large +body, black among the tangled green. He drew up, peering at it—it was +not a rock; its side showed smooth through the boughs. He jumped out and +pushed his way through the bushes. It was a taxi, its lamps +extinguished, broken branches and crushed foliage marking its track. + +It gave evidence of a violent flight and a hasty desertion, careened to +one side, its door open, a rug hanging over the step. He went to the +back, struck a match and looked at the license tag—the number was that +of the motor he had followed. Covered by the darkness, driven deep among +the trees, it could easily have passed unnoticed until the daylight +betrayed it. + +The plan of escape revealed a new artfulness—the man had made off either +on foot or in another vehicle. It accounted for the license—he knew his +pursuers would mark it and look for a car carrying that number. In the +face of such a crafty completeness of detail the young man felt himself +reduced to a baffled indecision. Cogitating on the various routes his +quarry might have taken, he ran out on to the shore road and here again +halted. + +Before him the Sound lay, a smooth dark floor, along which glided the +small golden glimmerings of river craft. He looked up and down the road, +discernible as a gray path between the upstanding solidity of the woods +and the flat solidity of the water. Some distance in front a black blot +took shape under his exploring glance as a small house. He started the +car and ran toward it, seeing as he approached a dancing yellow spot +come from behind it in swaying passage. He stopped, the yellow spot +steadied, rose, swung aloft—a lantern in the hands of a man, half +dressed, who came toward him spying out from under the upraised glow. + +Ferguson spoke abruptly: + +"Did you hear shots a while ago?" + +The man setting his lantern on the ground, spoke with the slow phlegm of +the native: + +"I did—close here. I bin down to the waterside seein’ if I could make +out what they was." + +The house was skirted by a balcony along which a second light now came +into view; this time from a lamp carried in the hand of a woman. She was +wrapped in a bed gown, a straggle of loose hair hanging round a +frightened face. + +"We was asleep and they woke us up. They was right off there," she +jerked her head to the Sound behind her. + +"From the water?" Ferguson asked. + +"Sounded that way," the man took it up. "We wasn’t sure at first what it +was; then they come crack, crack, one after the other, from somewheres +beyont. My wife, she said it was motor boats, said she heard ’em off +across the water. But by the time we got something on and was outside it +was over. There wasn’t no more and we couldn’t see nothing. I bin down +on the beach lookin’ round, thinkin’ they might have come from there, +but I ain’t found no tracks or signs of anybody." + +"I was wonderin’," said the woman, "if may be it was that patrol +boat—the one they got this summer runnin’ along the shore for +thieves—That they caught a sight of one and went after him." + +Ferguson was silent for a moment then said: + +"Is there any place round here where a boat could be hidden, deep enough +water for a launch?" + +The man answered: + +"Yes, right down the road a step there’s a cove and an old dock; used to +belong to the folks that lived on the bluff but the house burned down a +while back and ain’t been rebuilt and no one’s used the dock since. A +feller could hide a boat there fine; it’s all overgrown so you can’t see +it unless you know where it is." + +"I’d like to take a look at it," said Ferguson. "Come along with the +lantern." + +The place was only a few yards from the mouth of the wood road. Trees +and shrubs sheltered it, concealing with their rank growth a small +wharf, rotted and sagging to the water line. The lantern rays revealed a +recent presence, scattered leaves and twigs on the wooden planking, the +long marshy grasses showing a track from the road to the wharf’s edge. + +"Yes, sir," said the native, much impressed; "some one’s been here +to-night and not s’long ago either. You can see where the dew’s been +swep’ off the grasses right to the water." + +Ferguson said nothing; he now saw the whole plan of escape—the coupé +left in the woods, a short run to the cove where a boat had been +concealed, the get-away down on across the Sound. What had the shots +meant? Was the woman right in thinking the police patrol had come upon +the fleeing criminal? And if they had what had been the result? + +Lantern in hand, the man at his heels, he crushed through the swampy +copse to the shore. There his glance swept the long stretch of the +water, sewn in the distance with a pattern of moving sparks. Two of +them, red and green, stole over the ebony surface toward him, advancing +with an even, gliding smoothness, piercing and steady, like the eyes of +a stealthily approaching animal, fixing him with a meaning scrutiny. He +snatched up the lantern and ran for a point that jutted out in a pebbly +cape. Standing on its tip he raised and waved the light, letting his +voice ring out across the stillness: + +"Boat ahoy!" + +The lights drew closer, their reflections stabbing down into the oily +depths, gleam below gleam. The pulsing of a muffled engine came with +them, a prow took shape, a shine of wood and brass above the lusterless +tide. Ferguson called again: + +"Who are you?" + +An answer rose in a man’s surly voice: + +"What’s that to you?" + +"A good deal. I’m Ferguson of Council Oaks and I’m looking for the boat +that fired on some one round here about an hour ago." + +The voice replied, its tone changed to sudden conciliation: + +"Oh, Mr. Ferguson; couldn’t see who it was. We’re what you’re looking +for—the police patrol. We have the launch here in tow." + +"Have you got the man?" + +"Yes, sir. He didn’t answer our challenge and fired on us. We chased and +gave it back to him—a running fight. One of us got him—he’s dead." + +"Go on to my wharf; I’ll be there when you come." + +On his way along the shore road he met Price, paused for a quick +explanation, and the two cars ran at a racing clip to Ferguson’s wharf. +The men were standing on its end when the police boat glided into the +gush of light that fell from the high electric lamps at either side of +the ship. Behind it, lifted and dropped by the languid wavelets, was a +launch, a covered shape lying on the floor. + +The story of the police was quickly told. The night, dark and windless, +was the kind chosen by the water thieves for their operations. The men +had been on the watch faring noiselessly with engine muffled and hooded +lamps. It was nearly the end of their run, a length of shore with few +estates, when they saw a boat glide from a part of the beach peculiarly +dark and deserted. The craft carried no lights, a fact that instantly +roused their suspicions, and they waited. As it drew out for the open +water they challenged. There was no answer, but a sudden acceleration of +its speed, shooting by them like a streak for the mid reaches of the +Sound. + +They started in pursuit, repeating their challenge and then an order to +lie to. Again there was no response and they clapped on top speed and +raced in its wake. They were gaining on it when, in answer to a louder +hail, the man fired on them, the bullet passing between two of them and +burying itself in the gunwale. They replied with a return fire, there +was a fusillade of shots, and the two boats sped in a darkling rush +across the Sound. They knew something was wrong with their opponent; his +launch headed in a straight line swept through the wash of steamers, cut +across the bows of tugs and river craft, rocking like a cockleshell, +menaced by destruction, shouts and objurgations following its mad +course. They were up with it, almost alongside on the last lap. He made +no answer to their hails, sat upright and motionless, sat so when his +bow crashed against the rocks of the Connecticut shore. They found him +dead, a bullet in his brain, the wheel still gripped in his hands. + +Ferguson dropped into the launch and drew down the coat that had been +thrown over the body. The face, the false beard gone, was handsome, the +body large and powerful, the hands fine and well kept—it was not the +type he had expected to see. He felt in the pockets and found the money +still in its envelope, clasped by the rubber bands. There were no other +papers, no means of identification. After a short colloquy with the men, +he and Price drove back to Council Oaks. + +Price left the next morning. His presence was necessary in the city, he +said, and he seemed preoccupied and anxious to go. He hinted at +forthcoming revelations which would clear up what was still unexplained, +but declared himself unable at present to say more. + +When he had gone, Ferguson walked to Grasslands where he found the +family recuperating in a relief too deep for words. Bébita was in bed +still asleep. The doctor, sent for the night before, said she was +suffering from the effects of a drug, but that rest and quiet would soon +restore her. + +They collected on the balcony to hear his story. When it was over, +questions answered, amazement and horror vented in various forms, Mr. +Janney said he would like to walk over to the wharf and have a talk with +the police himself. Ferguson decided to go with him; there would be a +lot of business to be gone through, an inquest with all its unpleasant +detail. + +As they rose to leave, Suzanne announced that she wanted to come too. +She looked a wreck, in her hysterical jubilation forgetful of her rouge +and powder; a worn little wraith of a woman whose journey to the heart +of life had stripped her of all coquetry and beauty. They tried to +dissuade her, but, as usual, she was insistent; she wanted to see the +men herself, she wanted to hear everything. On this day of thanksgiving +no one had the will to thwart her, so they accepted with the best grace +they could and she walked through the woods with them. + +There was a group of men on the wharf, the local police, the coroner, +some of Ferguson’s employees. The body had been put in the boathouse, +laid on a table under a sheltering tarpaulin. Ferguson and Mr. Janney +drew off to the end of the dock in low-toned conference with the +officials. They were relieved to see that Suzanne had no mind to listen, +but stayed by herself in the shade of the boathouse wall. + +She leaned against it, looking out over the sparkling reaches of the +Sound. Her thoughts were of the dead man, close behind her there, on the +other side of the wooden partition. She wondered with an awed amaze at +his wild act and its dark ending. She wondered what manner of man he +was, what he was like—a human creature, unknown to her, who could want +only to cause her such anguish. + +She shot a glance over her shoulder and saw that the door of the +boathouse was half open—the coroner had been in and had neglected to +close it. She looked at the men at the end of the wharf; they stood in a +little cluster, backs toward her, heads together in animated discussion. +She moved from the wall, advanced on tip-toe through the slant of shade, +and slipped through the open doorway. + +The place was very still, its clear, varnished brownness impregnated +with the sea’s salty tang, through its windows the golden gleam of the +waves reflected in rippling lights that chased across its peaked +ceiling. She stole to the table where the grim shape lay and lifted the +tarpaulin with a trembling hand. The other shot suddenly to her mouth, +strangling a scream, and she dropped the heavy cloth as if it burned +her. Both hands went up over her face, flattened there until the nails +were empurpled, and she stood, bent as if cramped with pain, for the +moment all movement paralyzed. + +Ferguson, informed of all he wanted to know, turned from the others to +join her. She was not where he had left her, and moving down the wharf +he looked about and, seeing no sign of her, decided that she had gone +home. He was passing the boathouse doorway when she came through it +almost upon him. + +"Good heavens!" he said angrily, "have you been in _there_?" Then, +seeing her face, he caught her arm and held her. Would there ever be an +end to her willfulness! + +"Come home," he said, sharply, and led her away. She tottered beside +him, drooping and ghastly. As they crossed the road to the path up the +bluff he could not forbear an exasperated: + +"What in the name of common sense did you do that for? Didn’t you know +it was not a thing for you to see?" + +Her hands locked on his arm; she leaned against him lifting a haggard +glance to his face. Her voice was a husky whisper: + +"It’s not that, Dick. It wasn’t just the dead man. It was—it was—he was +my detective—Larkin!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX—MISS MAITLAND EXPLAINS + + +On Saturday afternoon several telephone messages were sent to Esther +Maitland at O’Malley’s flat. They came from Ferguson, from Grasslands, +and the Whitney office. In the two latter cases they were conciliatory +and apologetic and asked that Miss Maitland would see the senders and +explain the circumstances that had so strangely involved her in the +case. + +To both her employers and the Whitneys Miss Maitland returned an evasive +answer. She would be happy to do as they asked, but would have to let a +few more days pass before she would be free to speak. Meantime she would +remain with Mrs. O’Malley, who had offered to keep her, and who had +treated her with the utmost kindness and consideration. One request she +made—this to the Whitneys—she would like Chapman Price to be advised of +her whereabouts. It would be necessary for her to communicate with him +before she would be able to explain her share in the mystery. + +Ferguson’s message had been an importunate demand to let him come to +her. She refused, said she would see no one until she was at liberty to +clear herself, which would not be for some days yet. Her voice showed a +tremulous urgency, a note of pleading, new to his ears and infinitely +sweet. But he could not break down her resolution; she begged him to do +as she asked, not to seek her out, not to demand any explanations until +she was ready to give them. The one favor she granted him was that when +the time was up and she could break her silence, he could come for her. + +This did not happen until Wednesday. That morning she ’phoned to them +all that she could now see them and tell them what they wanted to hear. +A meeting was arranged at the Whitney office for three that afternoon +and Ferguson went to fetch her. + +They met in Mrs. O’Malley’s front parlor, considerately vacated and with +the folding doors closed against intrusion. Without greeting Ferguson +took her hands and held them, looking down into her face. She was +beaming, her cheeks flushed, her eyes shy. She began to say something +about being at last able to vindicate herself, but he cut her off: + +"Before you go into that, I want to say something to you." + +"No, that’s not fair; I must speak first and you must let me. It’s my +privilege." + +"With the others maybe, but not with me. What I have to say has to be +said _before_ I hear. Esther, do you know what it is?" + +She was silent, her head drooping, her hands growing cold in his grasp. +He went on, very quietly and simply: + +"It’s that I ask you to be my wife. And I must ask it before the +clearing or vindicating or any rubbish of that sort. I don’t know what +_you’ll_ say to it and I don’t want any answer now. That’s at your own +good time and your own good pleasure. It’s just that I wanted you to see +how I stand and have stood since that night when we walked through the +woods together. Come along now—it’s nearly three, and we mustn’t keep +them waiting." + +It was a very different Esther who sat in Wilbur Whitney’s private +office, facing those who had once been her accusers. She gave no +evidence of rancor, greeted them with a frank friendliness, smiled with +a radiance they set down to the rebound from long tension and strain. +Suzanne, her jealous fires burned out, could acknowledge now that she +was handsome; Mr. Janney wondered at her look of breeding. "A fine +girl," old Whitney thought, as he studied her through his glasses, +"spirited and high-mettled as a racer." + +"It’s a long story," she said, "and for you to understand it I’ll have +to go back to a time when none of you had ever heard of me. And before I +begin, I want to say to Mrs. Janney," she turned to the older woman +eagerly earnest, "if I had understood people better, if I hadn’t been +hardened and made suspicious by the struggle I’d had, I would have +trusted you and told you more, and all this misery would have been +averted. So, in a way it was my fault, and being such I’ve suffered for +it. + +"I have a half-sister, Florence Jackson, nine years younger than I am; +that would make her eighteen. When my stepfather died, ten years ago, he +left us penniless and I had to start in at once to make our bread. I +boarded Florry out with friends and found a position as a school +teacher. That was only for a year or two; soon I advanced into the +secretarial work which was less fatiguing and better paying. In the +first place I got, Florry was living near me and on Sundays she used to +come and see me. My employer didn’t like it—did not want a strange child +about the house and told me so without mincing words. I was angry—I was +hot-tempered and sensitive in those days and I made a vow to keep my +life to myself, be nothing to my employers but a machine who rendered +certain services for a certain wage. When I came to you, Mrs. Janney, I +should have seen that I was with some one who was big-hearted and +generous, but I had been molded and the mold had set in a hard and +bitter shape. + +"Earning more money I was able to put Florry in good schools. It was my +intention to give her a fine education, and equip her for the task of +earning her living. She was quick and clever, but willful and hard to +control. I suppose it was because she had had no home influences, no +place that belonged to her. She had to spend her vacations +anywhere—sometimes at the school, sometimes with classmates. It was a +miserable life for a child. + +"She was always pretty—when she was little people used to stop on the +streets to look at her—and as she grew older she grew prettier. She was +charming, too, there was something about her very willfulness that was +captivating. The combination worried me; if she had had more balance, +been more reasonable, it wouldn’t have mattered. But she was the kind +who is always full of wild enthusiasms, going off at a tangent about +this, that and the other. Not a promising temperament for a girl who has +to support herself. + +"A year ago I got her into a first class school near Chicago—I had met +the principal, who had been very kind and taken her at a greatly reduced +rate. It was to be her last year; in June she would graduate and with +her education finished, I felt sure I could get her a position in New +York where I could help her and watch over her. During the winter—last +winter—her letters made me uneasy. She was discontented, tired of study, +wanted to be out in the world doing something. I was prepared for a +struggle with her, but not for what happened. + +"One day—it was in March—I had a letter from her saying she had run away +from school, was in New York and was looking for a job. I was angry and +bitterly disappointed, also I was frightened—Florry in New York without +a cent, with no one to be with her, with no home or companion. I went to +the address she gave me and found her in the hall bedroom of a third +rate boarding house—a woman on the train had told her of it—full of high +spirits and a sort of childish joy at being free. She did not understand +my disappointment, laughed at my fears. I lost my temper, said more than +I ought—and—well, we had a quarrel, the first real one we ever had. + +"That night I couldn’t sleep, blaming myself, knowing that whatever she +did it was my duty to stand by her. The next day I went to the place and +found she’d gone, leaving no address. For three days I heard nothing +from her and was on the verge of going to you, Mrs. Janney, and +imploring your aid and advice, when a letter came. She was all right, +she had found paying employment, she was independent at last. In my +first spare hour I went to her and found her in another boarding house, +a cheap, shabby place, but decent. A good many working women lived +there, the better paid shop girls and heads of departments. It was +through one of these, a fitter, at Camille’s, that she had got work. +With her beauty it had been easy—she had been employed as a model at +Camille’s." + +"Camille’s!" the word came on a startled note from Suzanne. Esther +turned to her: + +"Yes, Mrs. Price, and you saw her there—you ordered a dress from a model +that Florry wore." + +"The girl with the reddish hair—the tall girl?" + +"Yes, that was Florry. She told me afterward how she walked up and down +in front of you." + +"But—" Suzanne’s voice showed an incredulous wonder, "she was beautiful; +they were all talking about her." + +"I said she was—I was not exaggerating. She was satisfied with her work, +liked it, I think she would have liked anything that was novel and took +her away from the grind of study. _I_ didn’t like it, but at least it +wasn’t the stage, and I set about trying to find something better. That +was the situation till April and then—" She paused, her eyes dropped to +the floor. The color suddenly rose in her face and raising them she shot +a look at Ferguson. He answered it with a slight, almost imperceptible +nod and smiled in open encouragement. She took a deep breath and +addressed Mrs. Janney: + +"What I have to tell now isn’t pleasant for me to say or for you to +hear, but I have to tell it for all the subsequent events grew from it. +Mr. Price had been to Camille’s that first time with his wife." + +There was a slight stir in the listening company, a sudden focusing of +intent eyes on the girl, a waiting expectancy in the grave faces. She +saw it and answered it: + +"Yes, he saw Florry. He went again—Mrs. Price was buying several +dresses. After that second visit he waited one night at the side door +used for employees and spoke to her. I can’t condone what she did, but I +can say in extenuation that she was very young, very inexperienced, that +she knew who Mr. Price was, and that she had never in her life met a man +of his attractions. + +"She didn’t hide it from me, was frank and outspoken about the meeting +and his subsequent attentions. For he saw her often after that, took her +for walks on Sunday, sent her theater tickets and books. I was filled +with anxiety, besought of her to give it up, but she wouldn’t, she +couldn’t. Before I went to Grasslands I realized a situation was +developing that made me sick with apprehension. She was in love, madly +in love. I couldn’t reason with her, I couldn’t make her listen to me; +she was blind and deaf to anything but him and what he said. + +"I went to Mr. Price and implored him to leave her alone. I had to catch +him as I could—in the halls, at odd moments in the library, for he hated +the scenes I made and tried to avoid me. He assured me that he meant no +harm, that her position was hard and he was sorry for her. I threatened +to tell Mrs. Janney, and he said I could if I wanted, that he would soon +be done with them all and didn’t care. I saw then that he too, like +Florry, was growing indifferent to everything but the hours when they +were together—that _he_ was in love. + +"That was the situation when I went to Grasslands. It was much worse +there—I couldn’t see her often, I was in ignorance of how things were +going with her, for her letters told me little. It was unbearable, and I +went into town whenever I could; all the extra holidays were asked for +so that I could go into the city and see how Florry was getting on. On +one of these visits she told me something that, at the time, I paid +little attention to, setting it down as one of her passing fancies; she +was interested in the working girls’ unions. At Camille’s and in the +boarding house she had fallen in with a group of girls of Socialistic +beliefs and, through them, had met their organizers and backers. She was +much more deeply involved than I guessed. Her fearlessness, her ardor +for anything new and exciting, making her a valuable addition to their +ranks. It carried her far, to the edge of tragedy." + +She turned to Mr. Janney: + +"Do you remember, Mr. Janney, one morning early in July, how I read you +an account of a strike riot among the shirtwaist makers when one of the +girls stabbed a policeman with a hatpin?" + +The old man nodded: + +"Yes, vaguely. I have a dim memory of arguing about it with you." + +"That was the time. Well, that girl was Florry. She lost her head +completely, stabbed the man, and in the tumult that followed, managed to +get away through the hall of a tenement house. She was hidden by friends +of hers, Russian socialists called Rychlovsky. I have met them; they +seem decent, kindly people, and they certainly were very good to her. +When I read you the article I had no more idea that the girl was Florry +than you had. It was not until the next morning that I received a letter +from her, telling me what she had done and where she was. + +"She wrote two letters, one to me and one to Mr. Price. He had told her +that he would spend his week-ends with the Hartleys at Cedar Brook and +she sent his there. Mine was delivered on the morning of July the +seventh but he did not get his until the same evening when he came to +Cedar Brook from the city. Each of us acted as promptly as we could, but +he went to her before I did, going in that night in his car. + +"It seems incredible that he should have done what he did, dared to take +such a risk. But when he found her cooped up in the rear room of a +tenement, lonely and frightened, he prevailed on her to go out with him +in his motor. He took her for a drive far up the Hudson, not returning +until after midnight. The Rychlovskys, who had missed her and were in a +state of alarm, were furious. When I went there the next day they were +vociferous in their desire to be rid of her, saying she would land them +all in jail. I was her sister; it was up to me, I must find another lair +for her. + +"I had heard of the house in Gayle Street from two girls, art students, +who had once lived there. It was the only place I could think of; and +when I found that the top floor was vacant, I realized that she could be +hidden in one of the rooms and no one suspect it was occupied. I engaged +it and paid the rent, telling the janitor the story of a friend coming +from the West. Then I took the key back to Florry. The Rychlovskys, +pacified by the thought that she would be out of their house, undertook +to furnish her with food. They made her promise that she would keep to +the room, light no gas at night, make no noise, and stay away from the +window. Florry was by this time thoroughly cowed and agreed to +everything. It was through their adroitness that the room passed as +vacant. They visited her in the evening, a time when many people came +and went in the house, bringing in her food and carrying away what was +left in newspapers. They had two extra keys made, one for me, one for +Mr. Price. I brought her money, Mr. Price books and magazines. He saw +her oftener than I did, and gave me news of her. This I asked him to do +by letter. I had once met him by Little Fresh Pond, and another time he +had telephoned. I was afraid of repeating the meeting at the pond—we had +both come upon Miss Rogers and Bébita on the way out—and I dreaded being +overheard at the ’phone. + +"All went well for two weeks, though we were terribly frightened, for +the policeman developed blood-poisoning, and for some time hung between +life and death. Then the Rychlovskys suggested a plan that seemed to me +the only way out of our dangers and difficulties. A friend of theirs, a +woman doctor, was one of a hospital unit sailing from Montreal to +France. This woman, allied with them in their Socialistic activities, +agreed to get Florry into her group as a hospital attendant, take her to +France and look after her. It struck us all as feasible and as lacking +in danger as any plan for her removal could be. The doctor was a woman +of high character who told the Rychlovskys she would keep Florry near +her as the unit was shorthanded and needed all the workers it could get. +The one person who showed no enthusiasm was Florry herself. I knew +perfectly what was the matter—she did not want to leave Chapman Price. +He tried to persuade her, was as worried and anxious as I was. The +situation between them had cleared to a definite understanding—when his +wife had obtained her divorce he would go to France and marry Florry +there. + +"And now I come to the day of the kidnaping, that dreadful, +unforgettable day! + +"The morning before—Thursday—I had seen her and found her in a state of +nervous indecision, weeping and miserable. I knew I was to be in town +with Mrs. Price the next day and told her if I could get time I would +come to her. Mrs. Price had told me how we were to divide the errands +and I realized, if I could finish mine earlier than she expected, I +would have a chance of seeing Florry. I had just been paid my salary and +that, with some money I had saved, I brought with me. My intention was +to give all this to Florry and implore her to go with the hospital unit, +which was scheduled to leave Montreal early the following week. + +"Things worked out as I had hoped. The commissions took less time than +Mrs. Price had calculated and I found that I would be able to spend a +few minutes with Florry. In case Bébita should mention the excursion +downtown, I ordered the driver to drop me at a bookbindery on the corner +of Gale Street. I could easily explain our stop there by saying that I +had left a book to be bound. + +"When I reached the room I found her in a state of hysterical terror—she +said the house was watched. Peeping out through the coarse lace curtains +that veiled the window, she had several times noticed a man lounging +about the corner. At first she had thought nothing of him, but the day +before he had reappeared, and stayed about the block most of the +afternoon covertly watching the entrance and the upper floor. I was +nearly as frightened as she was—the thing was only too probable. There +was no difficulty in getting her to go with the hospital ship. She had +only stayed on in the hope of seeing me and having me tell her what to +do. + +"I gave her the money and told her to wait until nightfall and then slip +out and go to the Rychlovskys. They had promised to help her in any way +they could, and with Bébita waiting in the cab, I couldn’t go with her. +It was a simply hideous position to have to leave her that way. But it +was all I could think of—it came so unexpectedly I was stunned by it. + +"When I reached the bookbindery the taxi was gone! Can you imagine what +I felt? I told the truth when I said my first thought was that Bébita +might have played a joke on me. I _did_ think that, for my mind, +confused and crowded with deadly fears, could not take in a new +catastrophe. Then, when I saw Mrs. Price and realized that the child had +mysteriously disappeared, while with _me_, while in _my_ charge—I—well, +I hope I’ll never have to live over moments like those again. I had to +keep one fact before my mind—to be quiet, to be cool, not to do or say +anything that might betray Florry. If I’d known what you suspected, I +couldn’t have done it. But, of course, I hadn’t any idea then you +thought I was implicated. + +"Florry had told me she would communicate with Mr. Price and he would +give me word of her. The telephone message that Miss Rogers tapped was +that word; all I received. It relieved me immensely, I began to feel the +dreadful strain relaxing, I began to think we were on the high road to +safety. And then came that day here in the office. Shall I ever forget +it!" + +She turned to Mrs. Janney: + +"If I had had the least idea of what was going to be done here, I would +have tried to get to you and have thrown myself on your mercy. But I was +completely unsuspecting and unprepared, and with Mr. Whitney as the +judge, representing the law, I did not dare to tell the truth, I _had_ +to lie. + +"As you saw, I lied as well as I could, puzzled at first, not knowing +what you were getting at, to what point it was all leading. Then, when +you caught me with the tapped message, I saw—I guessed how circumstances +had woven a net about me. I realized there was nothing to be done but +let you believe it, let you do what you wanted with me. You couldn’t +_make_ me speak, and if I could stay silent till Florry was in Europe, +hidden, lost in the chaos of a country at war, it would be all right." + +She swept their faces with a glance, half pleading, half triumphant. + +"She is there now—this morning Mr. Price had a cable from her. I have +told this to Mr. Whitney as well as the rest because I have thought—shut +up in O’Malley’s flat I had much time for thinking things out straight +and clear—that after my explanation, no one would want, no one would +dare, to bring that unfortunate girl back here to face a criminal +charge. She has had her lesson, she will never forget it, the man she +wounded is back on the force as good as ever. No human being with a +conscience and a heart—" she looked at Whitney—"and you have both—could +want to make her pay more bitterly than she has. She is safe, under +intelligent supervision. She can work, be useful, where her youth and +strength and enthusiasm are needed. I did not trust you before, Mr. +Whitney, but I do now and I know that my trust is not misplaced." + +A murmur, a concerted sound of agreement, came from her listeners. +Whitney, pushing his chair back from the desk, said gravely: + +"You can rest assured, Miss Maitland, that the matter will die here with +us to-day. As you say, your sister has had her punishment. She will stay +in France of course?" + +"Yes, make her home there, I think. When Mr. Price is free he is to go +over and marry her. He intends to sell his business out and offer his +services to the French government." + +There was a moment of silence, then Mrs. Janney spoke, clearing her +throat, her face flushed with feeling: + +"As you’ve said, Miss Maitland, none of this would have happened if +you’d seen fit to come to me. But it’s no use going over that now—we’ve +all made mistakes and we’re all sorry. What we—the Janneys—want to do is +to be fair, to be just, and now—if it is not too late—to make amends. +The only way you can show your willingness to forget and forgive, is to +come back at once to Grasslands and take things up where you left them." + +The girl for a moment did not answer, her face reddening with a sudden +embarrassment. Mrs. Janney saw the blush, read it as reluctance and +exclaimed: + +"Oh, Miss Maitland, don’t say you refuse. It’s as if you wouldn’t take +my hand held out in apology, in friendship." + +"No, no"—Esther was obviously distressed—"don’t think that, Mrs. Janney, +it’s not that. It’s that I can’t—I’ve—I’ve made another engagement—I’m +going to marry Mr. Ferguson." + + + + +CHAPTER XXX—MOLLY’S STORY + + +It’s my place to finish, tell the end of the story and straighten it all +out. Some of it’s been cleared up clean, with the people on the spot to +give the evidence, some of it we had to work out from what we knew and +what we guessed. Willitts, who was a gamy guy, told his tale from start +to finish, and loved doing it, they said, like an actor who’d rather be +dead in the spotlight than alive in the wings. Larkin’s part we had to +put together from what we could get from Bébita and what Mrs. Price gave +up. + +Bébita, the way children do, saw plain and could tell what she saw as +accurate as a phonograph. It made tears come to hear the dear little +thing, so sweet and innocent, making us see that even the crooks she was +with couldn’t help but love her. + +When Miss Maitland got out of the taxi at the bookbindery the driver +told the child that he knew her Daddy and could take her round to see +him while Miss Maitland was in the store. He said it wouldn’t take long, +that Mr. Price was close by, and they would come back in a few minutes +and pick up Miss Maitland. Bébita was crazy to go, and he started, +giving her a box of chocolates to eat on the way. Of course she never +could tell where he went but it could not have been a long distance, or +Larkin—we all were agreed that he drove the cab—couldn’t have reached +the Fifth Avenue house as soon as he did. The place was evidently a flat +over a garage. He told her her father was waiting there, went upstairs +with her, and gave her in charge of a woman called Marion who opened the +door for them. + +During the whole time she was gone she stayed here with Marion, who +every morning assured her her Daddy would come that day. She said Marion +was very good to her, gave her toys and candies, cooked her meals and +played games with her. She cried often and was homesick, and Marion +never scolded her but used to take her in her arms and kiss her and tell +her stories. She never saw the man again until he came to take her away, +but sometimes the bell rang and Marion went out on the stairs and talked +to some one. + +One evening Marion said she was going home; it would be a long drive and +she must be a good girl. Marion dressed her and then gave her a glass of +milk, and kissed her a great many times and cried. Bébita cried too, for +she was sorry to leave Marion, but she wanted to go home. After that the +man came and took her downstairs to the taxi and told her to be very +quiet and she’d soon be back at Grasslands. It was dark and they went +through the city and then she got very sleepy and laid down on the seat. + +No trace of Marion, Larkin’s confederate, could be found, and in fact no +especial effort was made to do so. The man was dead, the woman, who had +evidently treated the child with affectionate care, had fled into the +darkness where she belonged. The family, even Mrs. Janney, was contented +to let things drop and make an end. + +When it came to Larkin we had to piece out a good deal. We agreed that +he had started in fair and honest, had tried to make good and had +failed. At just what point he changed we couldn’t be sure, but Ferguson +thought it was after Mrs. Price threatened to end the investigation. +Then he realized that his big chance was slipping by, determined to get +something out of it, and hit on the kidnaping. It was easy to see how he +could worm all the data he wanted out of Mrs. Price. From what she said +he’d evidently pumped her at their last meeting in town, finding out +just what her plans were, even to the fact that she intended taking the +extra cab from the rank round the corner. _I_ thought that one thing +might have given him the whole idea. + +When they stopped at the book bindery he heard Miss Maitland tell Bébita +she would be gone a few minutes and knew that was his opportunity. He +took the child to the place he had ready for her, made a quick +change—not more than the shedding of his coat, cap and goggles—and ran +his car into the garage below, which of course he must have rented. Then +he lit out for the Fifth Avenue house, a bit late but ready to report in +case Miss Maitland didn’t show up before him. Miss Maitland did—he must +have seen her go in—but he rang just the same, which showed what a +cunning devil he was. + +He must have been surprised when he didn’t see anything in the papers, +but after he’d written the first "Clansmen" letter to Mrs. Price she +explained that and it made it smoother sailing for him. Knowing her as +well as he did, he planned the letters to scare her into silence, and +saw before he was through he had her exactly in the state he wanted. The +one place where his plot was weak was that an outsider had to drive the +rescue car. But he had to take a chance somewhere, and this was the best +place. He’d fixed it so neat that even if the outsider had informed on +him, he’d have been wary, and, as Ferguson thought, not shown up at all. + +He’d done it well; as well, we all agreed, as it could be done. What had +beaten him had been no man’s cleverness, just something that neither he, +nor you, nor any of us could have foreseen. Ain’t there a proverb about +the best laid plans of mice and men slipping up when you least expect +it? It was like the hand of something, that reached out sudden and came +down hard, laid him dead in the moment when the goal was in sight. + +As to Willitts, he was some boy! They found out that he was wanted in +England, well-known there as an expert safe-cracker and notorious jewel +thief. That’s where he’s gone, to live in a quiet little cell which will +be his home from this time forth. He said he hadn’t been in New York +long before he heard of the Janney jewels and went into Mr. Price’s +service. But he couldn’t do anything while the family were in town. The +safe was right off the pantry—too many people about—and anyway it was a +new one, the finest kind, that would have baffled even his skill. He +would have left discouraged but one day Dixon let drop that the safe at +Grasslands was old-fashioned, put in years before by the former owners, +so he stayed on devoted and faithful. + +At Grasslands he had lots of time to try his hand on the ancient +contraption in the passage. He worked on it until he found the +combination and then he lay low for his opportunity. When the row came +and Mr. Price left, he stayed on with him. It was the best thing to do +as he could run in and out from Cedar Brook seeing the servants, with +whom he was careful to be friendly. + +Before this he’d got wise to the fact that something was up between Miss +Maitland and Mr. Price. He said it was his business to snoop and his +profession had got him into the way of doing it instinctive, but I’d set +it down as coming natural. Anyway he’d found out that there was a secret +between them; he’d surprise them murmuring in the hallways and the +library, quieting down quick if any one came along. He made the same +mistake as the rest of us, thought it was an affair of the heart and +grew mighty curious about it. He didn’t explain why he was interested, +but if you asked me I’d say he had blackmail in the back of his head. + +On the afternoon of July the seventh he biked down from Cedar Brook to +take a look round and see how things were progressing. Familiar with the +ways of the house, he knew the family would be out and stole round past +Miss Maitland’s study. No one was there, and, curious as he was, he +slipped in to do a little spying—Miss Maitland and Mr. Price separated +would be writing to each other and a letter might throw some light on +the darkness. + +He rummaged about among the papers but found nothing. Scattered over the +desk were bits of the trimming Miss Maitland had been sewing on; a pile +of the little rosebuds was lying on the top of her work basket. Reaching +over toward a bunch of letters he upset the basket, and, scared, he +swept up the contents with his handkerchief, putting them back as quick +as he could. This was the way he explained the presence of the rose in +the safe. He was shocked at any one thinking that he had tried to throw +suspicion on such a fine young lady. That night, taking the jewels, hot +and nervous, his glasses had blurred the way they do when your face +perspires. He had whisked out his handkerchief to wipe them, and no +doubt a rosebud lodged in the folds had fallen to the ground. Mr. +Ferguson didn’t believe this—he thought the rose _was_ a plant—but I +_did_. It was one of those queer, unexpected things that will happen and +that, for me, always puts a crimp in circumstantial evidence. + +After that he went round to the kitchen and heard of the general sortie +for that evening. Then he knew the time had come. He biked back to Cedar +Brook, saw Mr. Price, and went to his lodgings. Here he found his +landlady’s child sick with croup and offered to go for the doctor, whose +house was not far from Berkeley. It fitted in just right, for if there +was any inquiry into his movements he could furnish a good reason why he +was late at the movies. Before he got to Grasslands he hid his wheel by +the roadside and took a short cut through the woods, lying low on the +edge of them until he saw the kitchen lights go out. Crossing the lawn, +the dogs ran at him barking, then got his scent and quieted down. At the +balcony he slipped off his rain coat, put on sneakers, unlocked the +front door with Mr. Price’s key, and crept in. The job didn’t take him +ten minutes; just as he finished he saw the box of Mr. Janney’s cigars +and helped himself to one. He rubbed off his finger prints with an acid +used for that purpose, left the broken chair just where it was and +departed. + +In the woods he lit the cigar, carelessly throwing the band on the +ground. Fifteen minutes later he was at the movies with the Grasslands +help. When he saw in the papers that a light had been seen by the safe +at one-thirty every fear he had died, for at that time he was back at +Cedar Brook helping his landlady look after the sick child. + +He was too smart a crook to disappear right on top of the robbery, and +hung around saying he was looking for another place. He met up with +Larkin but at first didn’t know he was a detective. When the offer came +from Ferguson he took it, intending to stay a while, then say his folks +in the old country needed him and slip away to Spain. It was the day +after he’d accepted Ferguson’s offer that he learned what Larkin was, +and saw that both he and the Janneys had their suspicions of Chapman +Price. This disturbed him, but he couldn’t throw up the job he’d just +taken without exciting remark. To be ready, however, he dug up the +jewels—he’d buried them in the woods—and put them handy under the +flooring of his room. + +One day, looking over Ferguson’s things, he came on the cigar band in +the box on the bureau. It gave him a jar, for he couldn’t see why it was +put there. He’d heard from the servants about Ferguson and Miss Maitland +walking home that night through the woods and began to wonder if maybe +they’d found the band. The thought ruffled him up considerably, and then +he put it out of his mind, telling himself it was one from a cigar +Ferguson had brought from Grasslands and smoked in his room. +Nevertheless, to be on the safe side, he threw it away, very much on the +alert, as you may guess. + +It wasn’t a week later that he had the interview with Ferguson about the +band. Then he saw by the young man’s manner and words why the little +crushed circle of paper had a meaning of its own, and knew that the time +had come to vanish. He still felt safe enough to do this without haste, +not rousing any suspicion by a too sudden departure. His opportunity +came quickly—on Friday morning he heard Ferguson tell the butler that he +was going to town and would be away for a day or two; by the time he +came back his valet would be far afield. + +Right after Ferguson’s departure he put the jewels in a bag, and, +telling the butler the boss had given him the day and night off, +prepared to leave. He was crossing the hall when the telephone rang—my +message—and being wary of danger, answered it. It was only a lady asking +for Mr. Ferguson, and, calm and steady as his voice had made me, started +out for the station. Mice and men again!—I was the mouse this time. +Gracious, what a battered mouse I was! + +Well—that’s all. The tangled threads are straightened out and the word +"End" goes at the bottom of this page. I’m glad to write it, glad to be +once again where you can say what you think, and talk to people like +they were harmless human beings without any dark secrets in their pasts +or presents, and, Oh, Gee, how glad I am to be home! Back in my own +little hole, back where there’s only one servant and she a coon, back +where I’m familiar with the food and know how to eat it, and blessedest +of all, back to my own true husband, who thinks there’s no sun or moon +or stars when I’m out of the house. I’m going to get a new rug for the +parlor, a fur-trimmed winter suit, a standing lamp with a Chinese shade, +a pair of skates—oh, dear, I’m at the bottom of the page and there’s no +room for "End," but I _must_ squeeze in that I got that reward—Mrs. +Janney said I’d earned every penny of it—and a wrist watch with a circle +of diamonds round it from Dick Ferguson, and—oh, pshaw! if I keep on +I’ll never stop, so here goes, on a separate line + + + + + + + THE END + + + BOOKS BY GERALDINE BONNER + + _Miss Maitland, Private Secretary_ + _Treasure and Trouble Therewith_ + _The Girl at Central_ + _The Black Eagle Mystery_ + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISS MAITLAND PRIVATE SECRETARY *** + +***** This file should be named 35504-0.txt or 35504-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/5/0/35504/ + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law 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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Miss Maitland Private Secretary</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Geraldine Bonner</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Release Date: March 06, 2011 [eBook #35504]<br /> +[Most recently updated: April 7, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Darleen Dove, Mary Meehan, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em;margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISS MAITLAND PRIVATE SECRETARY ***</div> + +<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure" style="margin-left: 27%; width: 45%" id="figure-1"> +<img style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="images/cover.jpg" src="images/cover.jpg" width="100%"/> +</div> + +<div class="center line-block noindent x-large"> +<div class="line"> +MISS MAITLAND PRIVATE SECRETARY</div> +<div class="line"> +BY GERALDINE BONNER</div> +</div> +<div class="center line-block noindent small"> +<div class="line"> +AUTHOR OF "THE EMIGRANT TRAIL," "THE GIRL AT CENTRAL," "TREASURE AND TROUBLE THEREWITH," ETC.</div> +</div> +<div class="center line-block noindent small"> +<div class="line"> +ILLUSTRATED BY</div> +<div class="line"> +A. I. KELLER</div> +</div> +<div class="center line-block noindent small"> +<div class="line"> +D. APPLETON AND COMPANY</div> +<div class="line"> +NEW YORK LONDON</div> +<div class="line"> +1919</div> +</div> +<div class="center line-block noindent small"> +<div class="line"> +COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY</div> +<div class="line"> +D. APPLETON AND COMPANY</div> +</div> +<div class="center line-block noindent small"> +<div class="line"> +COPYRIGHT 1918, 1919, BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY</div> +</div> +<div class="center line-block noindent small"> +<div class="line"> +PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA</div> +</div> +<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure" style="margin-left: 27%; width: 45%" id="figure-2"> +<span id="rising-into-the-white-wash-of-moonlight-came-suzanne"/><img style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Rising into the white wash of moonlight came Suzanne" src="images/illus1.jpg" width="100%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Rising into the white wash of moonlight came Suzanne</div> +</div> +<div class="contents level-2 section" id="id1"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title">CONTENTS</h2> +<ul class="simple toc-list"> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#list-of-illustrations" id="id2">LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-ithe-parting-of-the-ways" id="id3">CHAPTER I—THE PARTING OF THE WAYS</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-iimiss-maitland-gets-a-letter" id="id4">CHAPTER II—MISS MAITLAND GETS A LETTER</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-iiianother-letter-and-what-followed-it" id="id5">CHAPTER III—ANOTHER LETTER AND WHAT FOLLOWED IT</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-ivthe-cigar-band" id="id6">CHAPTER IV—THE CIGAR BAND</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-vrobbery-in-high-places" id="id7">CHAPTER V—ROBBERY IN HIGH PLACES</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-vipoor-mr-janney" id="id8">CHAPTER VI—POOR MR. JANNEY!</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-viiconcerning-detectives" id="id9">CHAPTER VII—CONCERNING DETECTIVES</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-viiimolly-s-story" id="id10">CHAPTER VIII—MOLLY'S STORY</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-ixgood-hunting-in-berkeley" id="id11">CHAPTER IX—GOOD HUNTING IN BERKELEY</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-xmolly-s-story" id="id12">CHAPTER X—MOLLY'S STORY</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-xiferguson-s-idea" id="id13">CHAPTER XI—FERGUSON'S IDEA</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-xiithe-man-who-wouldn-t-tell" id="id14">CHAPTER XII—THE MAN WHO WOULDN'T TELL</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-xiiimolly-s-story" id="id15">CHAPTER XIII—MOLLY'S STORY</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-xiva-chapter-about-bad-tempers" id="id16">CHAPTER XIV—A CHAPTER ABOUT BAD TEMPERS</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-xvwhat-happened-on-friday" id="id17">CHAPTER XV—WHAT HAPPENED ON FRIDAY</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-xvimolly-s-story" id="id18">CHAPTER XVI—MOLLY'S STORY</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-xviimiss-maitland-in-a-new-light" id="id19">CHAPTER XVII—MISS MAITLAND IN A NEW LIGHT</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-xviiithe-house-in-gayle-street" id="id20">CHAPTER XVIII—THE HOUSE IN GAYLE STREET</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-xixmolly-s-story" id="id21">CHAPTER XIX—MOLLY'S STORY</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-xxmolly-s-story" id="id22">CHAPTER XX—MOLLY'S STORY</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-xxisigned-clansmen" id="id23">CHAPTER XXI—SIGNED "CLANSMEN"</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-xxiisuzanne-finds-a-friend" id="id24">CHAPTER XXII—SUZANNE FINDS A FRIEND</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-xxiiimolly-s-story" id="id25">CHAPTER XXIII—MOLLY'S STORY</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-xxivcards-on-the-table" id="id26">CHAPTER XXIV—CARDS ON THE TABLE</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-xxvmolly-s-story" id="id27">CHAPTER XXV—MOLLY'S STORY</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-xxvithe-counter-plot" id="id28">CHAPTER XXVI—THE COUNTER PLOT</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-xxviinight-on-the-cresson-pike" id="id29">CHAPTER XXVII—NIGHT ON THE CRESSON PIKE</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-xxviiithe-man-in-the-boat" id="id30">CHAPTER XXVIII—THE MAN IN THE BOAT</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-xxixmiss-maitland-explains" id="id31">CHAPTER XXIX—MISS MAITLAND EXPLAINS</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-xxxmolly-s-story" id="id32">CHAPTER XXX—MOLLY'S STORY</a></li> +</ul> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="list-of-illustrations"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id2">LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</a></h2> +<div class="line-block"> +<div class="line"> +<a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#rising-into-the-white-wash-of-moonlight-came-suzanne">Rising into the white wash of moonlight came Suzanne</a></div> +<div class="line"> +<a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#you-ve-done-one-thing-to-me-that-you-are-going-to-regret">You've done one thing to me that you are going to regret</a></div> +<div class="line"> +<a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#his-face-was-ludicrous-in-its-enraged-enmity">His face was ludicrous in its enraged enmity</a></div> +<div class="line"> +<a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#ferguson-saw-him-in-silhouette-a-large-humped-body-with-bent-head">Ferguson saw him in silhouette, a large, humped body with bent head</a></div> +</div> +<p class="center pfirst x-large">MISS MAITLAND PRIVATE SECRETARY +</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-ithe-parting-of-the-ways"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id3">CHAPTER I—THE PARTING OF THE WAYS</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">Chapman Price was leaving Grasslands. Events had been rapidly advancing +to that point for the last three months, slowly advancing for the last +three years. Everybody who knew the Prices and the Janneys said it was +inevitable, and people who didn't know them but read about them in the +"society papers" could give quite glibly the reasons why Mrs. Chapman +Price was going to separate from her husband. +</p> + +<p> +His friends said it was her fault; Suzanne Price was enough to drive any +man away from her—selfish, exacting, bad tempered, a spoiled child of +wealth. Chappie had been a first-rate fellow when he married her and +she'd nagged and tormented him past bearing. <i>Her</i> friends had a +different story; Chapman Price was no good, had neglected her, was an +idler and a spendthrift. Hadn't the Janneys set him up in business over +and over and found it hopeless? What he had wanted was her money, and +people had told her so; her mother had begged her to give him up, but +she would have him and learned her lesson, poor girl! Those in the +Janney circle said there would have been a divorce long before if it +hadn't been for the child. <i>She</i> had held them together, kept them in a +sort of hostile, embattled partnership for years. And then, finally, +that link broke and Chapman Price had to go. +</p> + +<p> +There had been a last conclave in the library that morning, Mrs. Janney +presiding. Then they separated, silent and gloomy—a household of eight +years, even an uncongenial one, isn't broken up without the sense of +finality weighing on its members. Chapman had gone to his rooms and +flung orders at his valet to pack up, and Suzanne had gone to hers, +thrown herself on the sofa, and sniffed salts with her eyes shut. Mr. +and Mrs. Janney repaired to the wide shaded balcony and there talked it +over in low tones. They were immensely relieved that it was at last +settled, though of course there would be the unpleasantness of a divorce +and the attending gossip. Mr. Janney hated gossip, but his wife, who had +risen from a Pittsburg suburb to her present proud eminence, was too +battle-scarred a veteran to mind a little thing like that. +</p> + +<p> +As they talked, their eyes wandered over a delightful prospect. First a +strip of velvet lawn, then a terrace and balustraded walk, and beyond +that the enameled brilliance of long gardens where flowers grew in +masses, thick borders, and delicate spatterings, bright against the +green. Back of the gardens were more lawns, shaven close and dappled +with tree shadows, then woods—Mrs. Janney's far acres—on this fine +morning all shimmering and astir with a light, salt-tinged breeze. +Grasslands was on the northern side of Long Island, only half a mile +from the Sound through the seclusion of its own woods. +</p> + +<p> +It was quite a show place, the house a great, rambling, brown building +with slanting, shingled roofs and a flanking rim of balconies. Behind it +the sun struck fire from the glass of long greenhouses, and the tops of +garages, stables and out-buildings rose above concealing shrubberies and +trellises draped with the pink mantle of the rambler. Mrs. Janney had +bought it after her position was assured, paying a price that made all +Long Island real estate men glad at heart. +</p> + +<p> +Sitting in a wicker chair, a bag of knitting hanging from its arm, she +looked the proper head for such an establishment. She was fifty-four, +large—increasing stoutness was one of her minor trials—and was still a +handsome woman who "took care of herself." Her morning dress of white +embroidered muslin had been made by an artist. Her gray hair, creased by +a "permanent wave," was artfully disposed to show the fine shape of her +head and conceal the necessary switch. She was too naturally endowed +with good taste to indicate her wealth by vulgar display, and her hands +showed few rings; the modest brooch of amethysts fastening the neck of +her bodice was her sole ornament. And this was all the more commendable, +as Mrs. Janney had wonderful jewels of which she was very proud. +</p> + +<p> +Five years before, she had married Samuel Van Zile Janney, who now sat +opposite her clothed in white flannels and looking distressed. He was a +small, thin, elderly man, with a pointed gray beard and a general air of +cool, dry finish. No one had ever thought old Sam Janney would marry +again. He had lost his wife ages ago and had been a sort of historic +landmark for the last twenty years, living desolately at his club and +knowing everybody who was worth while. Of course he had family, endless +family, and thought a lot of it and all that sort of thing. So his +marriage to the Pittsburg widow came as a shock, and then his world said: +"Oh, well, the old chap wants a home and he's going to get it—a choice +of homes—the house on upper Fifth Avenue, the place at Palm Beach and +Grasslands." +</p> + +<p> +It had been a very happy marriage, for Sam Janney with his traditions +and his conventions was a person of infinite tact, and he loved and +admired his wife. The one matter upon which they ever disagreed was +Suzanne. She had been foolishly indulged, her caprices and +extravagances were maddening, her manners on occasions extremely bad. +Mr. Janney, who had beautiful manners of his own, deplored it, also the +amount of money her mother allowed her; for the fortune was all Mrs. +Janney's, Suzanne having been left dependent on her bounty. +</p> + +<p> +His wife, who had managed everything else so well, resented these +criticisms on what should have been the completest example of her +competence. She also resented them because she knew they were true. With +all her cleverness and all her capability she had not succeeded with her +daughter. The girl had got beyond her; the unfortunate marriage with +Chapman Price had been the climax of a youth of willfulness and +insubordination. Suzanne's affairs, Suzanne's future, Suzanne herself +were subjects that husband and wife avoided, except, as in the present +instance, when they were the only subjects in both their minds. +</p> + +<p> +Presently their low-toned murmurings were interrupted by the appearance +of Dixon, the butler, announcing lunch. +</p> + +<p> +"Mrs. Price," he said, "will not be down—she has a headache." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Janney rose, looking at the man. He had been in her service for +years, was one of the first outward and visible signs of her growth in +affluence. She was sure that he knew what had happened, but her face +was unrevealing as a mask, as she said: +</p> + +<p> +"See that she gets something. Will Mr. Price take his lunch upstairs?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, Madam," returned the man quietly, "Mr. Price is coming down." +</p> + +<p> +It was a ghastly meal—three of them eating sumptuous food, waited on by +two men hardly less silent than they were. It wouldn't have been so +unbearable if Bébita, Suzanne's daughter, had been there to lift the +curse off it with her artless chatter, or Esther Maitland, the social +secretary, who had acquired a habit of talking with Mr. Janney when the +rest of the family were held in the dumbness of wrath. But Bébita was +spending the morning with a little chum and Miss Maitland was lunching +with a friend in the village. +</p> + +<p> +Chapman Price, as if anxious to show how little he cared, ate everything +that was passed, and prolonged the misery by second helpings. Mrs. +Janney could have beaten him, she was so angry. Once she glanced at him +and met his eyes, insolently defiant, and as full of hostility as her +own. They were vital eyes, dark and bold, and were set in a handsome +face. At the time of his marriage he had been known as "Beauty Price" +and it was his good looks which had caught the capricious fancy of +Suzanne. In the eight years since then they had suffered, the firmly +modeled contours had grown thin and hard, the mouth had set in an ugly +line, the brows had creased by a frown of sulky resentment. But he was +still a noticeable figure, six feet, lean and agile, with a skin as +brown as a nut and a crown of black hair brushed to a glossy smoothness. +Many women continued to describe Chapman Price as "a perfect Adonis." +</p> + +<p> +When they rose from the table he stood aside to let his parents-in-law +pass out before him. They brushed by, feeling exceedingly uncomfortable +and wanting to get away as quickly as their dignity would permit. They +dreaded a last flare-up of his temper, notoriously violent and +uncontrolled, one of the attributes that had made him so unacceptable. +In the hall at the stair foot they half turned to him, swept him with +cold looks and were mumbling vague sounds that might have been dismissal +or farewell, when he suddenly raised his voice in a loud, combative +note: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, don't bother to be polite. There's no love between us and there +needn't be any hypocrisies. You want to get rid of me and I want to go. +But before I do, I'd like to say something." He drew a step nearer, his +face suddenly suffused with a dark flush, his eyes set and narrowed. +"You've done one thing to me that you're going to regret—stolen my +child. Yes," in answer to a protesting sound from Mr. Janney, "<i>stolen</i> +her—that's what I said. You think you can hide behind your money bags +and do what you like. Maybe you can nine times, but there's a tenth when +things don't work the way you've expected. Watch out for it—it's due +now." +</p> +<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure" style="margin-left: 27%; width: 45%" id="figure-3"> +<span id="you-ve-done-one-thing-to-me-that-you-are-going-to-regret"/><img style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="You've done one thing to me that you are going to regret" src="images/illus2.jpg" width="100%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +You've done one thing to me that you are going to regret</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">His voice was raised, loud, furious, threatening. The dining room door +flew open and Dixon appeared on the threshold in alarmed consternation. +Mr. Janney stepped forward belligerently: +</p> + +<p> +"Chapman, now look here—" +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Janney laid a hand on her husband's arm: +</p> + +<p> +"Don't answer him, Sam," then to Chapman, her face stony in its +controlled passion, "I want no more words with you. Our affairs are +finished. Kindly leave the house as soon as possible." She turned to the +butler who was staring at them with dropped jaw: "Shut that door, Dixon, +and stay where you belong." The sound of footsteps at the stair-head +caught her ear. "The other servants are coming: we'll have an audience +for this pleasant scene. We'd better go, Sam, as Chapman doesn't seem to +have heard my request for him to leave, the only thing for us is to +leave ourselves." +</p> + +<p> +She swept her husband off across the hall toward the balcony. Behind +them the young man's voice rose: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh don't have any fears. I'm going. But I may come back—that's what +you want to remember—I may come back to settle the score." +</p> + +<p> +Then they heard his footsteps mounting the stairs in a long, leaping +run. +</p> + +<p> +In his own room he found his valet, Willitts, a small, fair-haired young +Englishman, closing the trunks. The door was open and he had a suspicion +that the footsteps Mrs. Janney had heard were probably Willitts'. He +didn't care, he didn't care what Willitts had heard. The man knew +anyhow; they <i>all</i> knew. There wasn't a servant in the house or a soul +in the village who wouldn't by to-morrow be telling how the Janneys had +thrown him out and were planning to get possession of his child. +</p> + +<p> +He strode about the room, tumbled the neat piles of cravats and +handkerchiefs on the bureau, yanked up the blinds. In his still seething +passion he muttered curses at everything, the clothes that lay across +chair backs, the boots that he kicked as he walked, finally the valet +who once got in his way. The man made no answer, did not appear to +notice it, but went on with his work, silent, unobtrusive, competent. +Presently Chapman became quieter; the storm was receding. He fell into a +chair, sat sunk in moody reflection, and, after studying the shining +toes of his shoes for some minutes, looked at the man and said, "Forget +it, Willitts. I was mad straight through." +</p> + +<p> +It may have been a capacity to make such amends that caused all servants +to like Chapman Price. Willitts, who had been in his service for nearly +a year, was known to be devoted to him. +</p> + +<p> +An hour later, when they left, the house had an air of desertion. The +large lower hall, with vistas of stately rooms through arched doorways, +was as silent as the Sleeping Beauty's palace. Chapman's glance swept it +all—rich and still, gleams of parquette showing beyond the Persian +rugs, curtains too heavily splendid for the breeze to stir, flowers in +glowing masses, the big motor, visible through the wide-flung hall door, +a finishing touch in the picture. It was the perfect expression of a +carefully devised luxury, a luxury which for the last eight years had +lapped him in slothful ease. +</p> + +<p> +As he came out on the verandah steps a voice hailed him and he stopped, +the sullen ill humor of his face breaking into a smile. Across the lawn, +running with fleet steps, came his daughter Bébita. Laughing and gay +with welcome, she was as fresh as a morning rose. Her hat, slipped to +her neck, showed the glistening gold of her hair back-blown in ruffled +curls; her rapid passage threw her dress up over her bare, sunburned +knees, and her little feet in black-strapped slippers sped over the +grass. Healthy, happy, surrounded by love which she returned with a +child's sweet democracy, she was enchanting and Chapman adored her. +</p> + +<p> +"Where are you going, Popsy?" she cried and, dodging round the back of +the motor, came panting up the steps. Chapman sat down on the top, and +drew her between his knees. Otto, the chauffeur, and Willitts with the +bags, watched them with covert interest, ready to avert their eyes if +Chapman should look their way. The nurse, an elderly woman, came slowly +across the grass, also watching. +</p> + +<p> +"To town," said the young man, scrutinizing the lovely, rosy face, with +its deep blue eyes raised to his. +</p> + +<p> +"For how long?" She was used to her father going to town and not +reappearing for several days. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I don't know; longer than usual, though, I guess. Going to miss +me?" +</p> + +<p> +"Um, I always miss you, Popsy. Will you bring me something when you come +back?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, or maybe I'll send it. What do you want?" +</p> + +<p> +"A 'lectric torch—one that shines. Polly's got one"—Polly was the +little friend she had been visiting—"I want one like Polly's." +</p> + +<p> +"All right. A 'lectric torch." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm going to get one, Annie," she cried triumphantly to the nurse; +"Popsy's going to send me one." Then turning back to her father, "Take +me to the station with you?" +</p> + +<p> +Willitts and the chauffeur exchanged a glance. The nurse made a quick +forward movement, suddenly gently authoritative: +</p> + +<p> +"No, no, darling. You can't drive now. It's time to go in and take jour +rest." +</p> + +<p> +Bébita looked mutinous, but her father, drawing her to him and kissing +her, rose: +</p> + +<p> +"I can't honey-bun. I'm in a hurry and there wouldn't be any fun just +driving down to the village and back. You run along with Annie now and +as soon as I get to town I'll buy you the torch and send it." +</p> + +<p> +The nurse mounted the steps, took the child's hand, and together they +stood watching Chapman as he got in. Willitts took the seat beside the +chauffeur, adroitly disposing his legs among a pile of suitcases, golf +bags, umbrellas and walking sticks. As the car started Chapman looked +back at his daughter. She was regarding him with the intent, grave +interest, a little wistful, with which children watch a departure. At +the sight of his face, she smiled, pranced a little, and called: +</p> + +<p> +"Good-by, Popsy dear. Don't forget the torch. Come back soon," and waved +her free hand. +</p> + +<p> +Chapman gave an answering wave and the big car rolled off with a cool +crackle of gravel. +</p> + +<p> +The village—the spotless, prosperous village of Berkeley enriched by +the great estates about it—was a half mile from Grasslands' +wrought-iron gates. The road passed through woods, opening here and +there to afford glimpses of emerald lawns backed by large houses, with +the slope of awnings above their balconies. On either side of this +highway ran a shady path, worn hard by the feet of pedestrians and the +wheels of bicycles. +</p> + +<p> +As the Janney motor turned out into the road a young woman was walking +along one of these paths, returning to Grasslands. She appeared to be +engrossed in thought, her step loitering, her eyes down-cast, a slight +line showing between her brows. Out of range of the sun she had let her +parasol droop over her shoulder and its green disk made a charming +background for her head. She wore no hat and against the taut silk her +hair showed a glossy, burnished brown. It was beautiful hair, growing +low on her forehead and waving backward in loose undulations to the +thick knot at the nape of her neck. Her skin was pale, her eyes, under +long brows that lifted slightly at the outer ends, deep-set, narrow and +dark. She was hardly handsome, but people noticed her, wondered why they +did, and then said she was "artistic-looking," or maybe it was just +personality; anyway, say what you like, there was something about her +that caught your eye. Dressed entirely in white, a slim, sunburned hand +coiled round the parasol handle, her throat left bare by a sailor +collar, she was as trim, as flecklessly dainty, graceful and comely as a +picture-girl painted on the green canvas of the trees. +</p> + +<p> +At the sight of her Chapman, who had been lounging in the tonneau, +started and his morose eye brightened. As the motor ran toward her, she +looked up, saw who it was, and in the moment of passing, inclined her +head in a grave salutation. Chapman leaned forward and touched the +chauffeur on the shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +"Just stop for a minute, Otto, I want to speak to Miss Maitland." +</p> + +<p> +She did not see that the car had stopped or hear the footstep on the +grass behind her. Chapman's voice was low: +</p> + +<p> +"Hullo, Esther. Don't be in such a hurry. I'm going." +</p> + +<p> +She wheeled, evidently startled, her face disturbed and unsmiling. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! Do you mean <i>really</i> going?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. Parting of the ways—all that sort of thing." +</p> + +<p> +He eyed her with a curious, watching interest and she returned the look, +her own uneasily intent. +</p> + +<p> +"Why do you stop to tell me that," was what she said. "Everybody knew it +was coming." +</p> + +<p> +He shrugged and then smiled, a smile full of meaning: +</p> + +<p> +"I thought you'd like to hear it—from <i>me</i>, first hand. I'll be a free +man in a year." +</p> + +<p> +She stood for a moment looking at the ground, then lifting the parasol +over her head, said: +</p> + +<p> +"If you're going to catch the three forty-five you'd better hurry." +</p> + +<p> +His smile deepened, showed a roguish malice, and as he turned from her, +raising his hat, he murmured just loud enough for her to hear: +</p> + +<p> +"Thanks for reminding me. I wouldn't miss that train for a farm—I'm +devilish keen to get to the city." +</p> + +<p> +He ran back to the waiting motor and the girl resumed her walk, her step +even slower than before, her face down-drooped in frowning reverie. +</p> + +<p> +There was no chair car on the three forty-five and Chapman had to travel +in the common coach, Willitts and the luggage crowded into the seat +behind him. It was an hour and a half run to the Pennsylvania Station +and he spent the time thinking over the situation and arranging his +future. His business—Long Island real estate—had been allowed to go to +the dogs. He would have to get busy in earnest, and, with his friends +and large acquaintance to throw things in his way, he could put it on a +paying basis. His expenses would have to be cut down to the bone. He'd +give up his chambers, a suite in a bachelor apartment—Willitts could +find him a cheap room somewhere—and of course he'd give up Willitts. +That had been already arranged and the faithful soul had asked leave to +help him in the move and stay with him till a new job was found. He +would keep his car—it would be necessary in his business—and could be +stored in the garage at Cedar Brook where he'd spend his week-ends with +the Hartleys. Joe Hartley was one of his best friends, knew all about +his marriage and had counseled a separation more than a year ago. He'd +probably spend a good deal of his time at Cedar Brook, it was a growing +place; unfortunate that it should be the next station after Berkeley, +but it could not be helped. He was bound to run into the Janney outfit +and he'd have to get used to it. +</p> + +<p> +The train was entering the tunnel when he gave Willitts his +instructions—go to the apartment and pack up, then see about a room. He +himself would look up some places he knew of, and if he found anything +suitable he'd come back to the apartment and the things could be moved +to-morrow. They separated in the depot, Willitts and the luggage in a +taxi, Chapman on foot. But that part of the city to which he took his +way, dingy, unkempt, remote from the section where his kind dwelt, was +not a place where Chapman Price, fallen from his high estate as he was, +would have chosen to house himself. +</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-iimiss-maitland-gets-a-letter"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id4">CHAPTER II—MISS MAITLAND GETS A LETTER</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">It was Thursday morning, three days after her husband's departure, and +Suzanne was sitting in the window seat of her room looking across the +green distances to where the roof of Dick Ferguson's place, Council +Oaks, rose above the tree tops. Council Oaks adjoined Grasslands, there +was a short cut which connected them—a path through the woods. Before +Mrs. Janney bought Grasslands the path had become moss-grown, almost +obliterated. Then when she took possession the two households wore it +bare again. The servants found it shortened the walk from kitchen to +kitchen; Mr. Janney often footed its green windings; Dick Ferguson's +father had been one of his cronies, and Dick Ferguson himself was the +most constant traveler of them all. +</p> + +<p> +Council Oaks was a very old place; it had been in the Ferguson family +since the days when the British governors rolled over Long Island in +their lumbering coaches. Before that the Indians had used it for a +council ground, their tepees pitched under the shade of the four giant +oaks from which it took its name. The Fergusons had kept the farm house, +built after the Revolution, adding wings to it, till it now extended in +a long, sprawl of white buildings, with the original worn stone as a +step to its knockered front door, and the low, raftered ceilings, plank +floors, and deep-mouthed fireplaces of its early occupation. +</p> + +<p> +There Dick Ferguson lived all summer, going to town at intervals to +attend to the business of the Ferguson estate, for, like the young man +in the Bible, he had great possessions. The dead and gone Fergusons had +been canny and thrifty, bought land far beyond the city limits and sat +in their offices and waited until the town grew round it. It was known +among the present owner's intimates that he disapproved of this method +of enrichment, and that his extensive charities and endowments were an +attempt to pay back what he felt he owed. He was very silent about them, +only a few knew of the many secret channels through which the Ferguson +millions were being diverted to the relief of the people. +</p> + +<p> +But none of this seriousness showed on the outside. If you didn't know +him well Dick Ferguson was the last person you would suspect of a sense +of responsibility or a view of life that was anything but easy-going and +light-hearted. People described him as a nice chap, not a bit spoiled by +his money, just a big, jolly boy, simple and unaffected. He looked the +part with his long, lank figure, leggy as a young colt, his shock of +light brown hair that never would lie flat, his freckled, irregular face +with gray eyes that had an engaging way of closing when he laughed. He +did this a good deal and it may have been one of the reasons why so many +people liked him. And he also had a capacity for listening to +long-winded tales of trouble, which may have been another. He was +twenty-nine years old and still unmarried, and that was his own fault as +any one would tell you. +</p> + +<p> +When Sam Janney married the Pittsburg widow Dick Ferguson became a +friend of the family. He fitted in very well, for he was sympathetic and +understanding and the Janneys had troubles to tell. He heard all about +Chapman's shortcomings; a little from old Sam who was not expansive, +more from Mrs. Janney, and most from Suzanne. He was very sorry for her +and gave her good advice. "A poor little bit of bluff," he called her to +himself, and then would stroll over to Grasslands and spend an hour with +her trying to cheer her up. +</p> + +<p> +He spent a good many hours this way and the time came when Suzanne began +to wait and watch for his coming. +</p> + +<p> +Sitting now in the cushioned window seat she was wondering if he would +come that morning and she could get him off in the garden and tell him +that Chapman was gone. She saw herself saying it with lowered eyes and +delicately demure phrases. She would frankly admit she was glad it was +over, glad she would be free once more, for in the autumn she would go +to Reno and begin proceedings for a divorce. +</p> + +<p> +At this thought she subsided against the cushions, and closed her eyes +smiling softly. Seen thus, the bright sunlight tempered by filmy +curtains, she was a pretty woman, looking very girlish for her +twenty-eight years. This was partly due to her extreme slenderness and +partly to her blonde coloring. Both had been preserved with sedulous +care: the one matter in which she exercised self-restraint was her food, +the one occasion on which she showed patience was when her maid was +washing her hair with a solution of peroxide. +</p> + +<p> +Every window in the large, luxurious room was open and through them +drifted a flow of air, scented with the sea and the breath of flowers. +Then rising on the stillness came the sound of voices—a man's and a +woman's—from the balcony below. They were Mr. Janney's and Miss +Maitland's—the secretary was preparing to read the morning papers to +her employer. +</p> + +<p> +Suzanne opened her eyes and sat up, the smile dying from her lips. The +dreamy complacence left her face and was replaced by a look of brooding +irritation. It changed her so completely that she ceased to be +pretty—suddenly showed her years, and was revealed as a woman, already +fading, preyed upon by secret vexations. +</p> + +<p> +She rose adjusting her dress, a marvelous creation of thin white +material with floating edges of lace. She went to the mirror, powdered +her face and touched her lips with a stick of red salve, then studied +her reflection. It should have been satisfying, delicate, fragile, a +lovely, ethereal creature, with baby blue eyes and silky, maize-colored +hair. It was not to be believed that any man could look at Esther +Maitland when she was by—and yet—and yet—! She turned from the mirror +with an angry mutter and went downstairs. +</p> + +<p> +On the balcony Miss Maitland was looking over the papers with Mr. Janney +opposite waiting to be read to. Suzanne sat down near them where she +could command the place in the woods where the path from Council Oaks +struck into the lawn. With a sidelong eye she noted the Secretary's hand +on the edge of the paper—narrow, satin-skinned, with fingers finely +tapering and pink-tipped. <i>Her</i> fingers were short and spatulate, +showing her common blood, and all the pink on them had to be applied +with a chamois. Miss Maitland began to read—the war news first was the +rule—and her voice was a pleasure to hear, cultivated, soft, musical. +Suzanne, for all her expensive education and subsequent efforts, had +never been able to refine hers; the ugly Pittsburg burr would crop out. +</p> + +<p> +A gnawing fancy that she had been fighting against for weeks rose +suddenly into jealous conviction. This girl—a penniless nobody—had a +quality, an air, a distinction, that she with all her advantages had +never been able to acquire, <i>could</i> never acquire. It was something +innate, something you were born with, something that made you fitted for +any sphere. Immovable, apparently absorbed in the reading, Suzanne began +to think how she could induce her mother to dispense with the services +of the Social Secretary. +</p> + +<p> +When the war news was finished Miss Maitland passed on to the news of +the day. On this particular morning it was varied and interesting: A +Western senator had attacked the President's policy with unseemly vigor; +the mysterious murder of a woman in Chicago had developed a new suspect; +a California mob had nearly killed a Japanese student; and in the New +York loft district a strike of shirtwaist makers had attained the +proportions of a riot in which one of the pickets had stabbed a +policeman with a hatpin. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Janney was shocked at these horrors, but he always liked to hear +them. Miss Maitland had to stop reading and listen to a theory he had +evolved about the Chicago murder—it was the woman's husband and he +demonstrated how this was possible. Then he took up the shirtwaist +strike with a fussy disapproval—they got nothing by violence, only set +the public against them and their cause. Miss Maitland was inclined to +argue about it; thought there was something to say for their methods and +said it. +</p> + +<p> +Suzanne listened uncomprehending, unable to join in or to follow. She +had heard such arguments before and had to sit silent, feeling a fool. +The girl didn't know her place, talked as if she were their equal, +talked to Dick that way, and Dick had been interested, giving her an +attention he never gave Suzanne. Mr. Janney was doing it now, leaning +out of his chair, voicing his hope that a speedy vengeance would +overtake the picket who had made her escape in the mêlée. +</p> + +<p> +The conversation was brought to an end by the appearance of Mrs. Janney. +It was time for the mail; Otto had gone for it an hour ago. Before its +arrival Mrs. Janney wanted their answers about two dinner invitations +which had just come by telephone. One was for herself and Sam—Sunday +night at the Delavalles—and the other was from Dick Ferguson for +to-night—all of them, very informally—just himself and Ham Lorimer who +was staying there. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Janney agreed to both and in answer to her mother's glance Suzanne +said languidly, "Yes, she'd go to-night—there was nothing else to do." +</p> + +<p> +"And he wants you too, Miss Maitland," said Mrs. Janney, turning to the +Secretary. "You'll come, won't you?" +</p> + +<p> +Miss Maitland said she would and that it was very kind of Mr. Ferguson +to ask her. Mr. and Mrs. Janney exchanged a gratified glance; they were +much attached to the Secretary and felt that their lordly circle ignored +her existence more than was necessary or kindly. Suzanne said nothing, +but the edges of her small upper teeth set close on her under lip, and +her nostrils quivered with a deep-drawn breath. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Janney gave orders for messages of acceptance to be sent, then sank +into a chair, remarking to her husband: +</p> + +<p> +"I'm glad you'll go to the Delavalles. It's to be a large dinner. I'll +wear my emeralds." +</p> + +<p> +To which Mr. Janney murmured: +</p> + +<p> +"By all means, my dear. The Delavalles will like to see them." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Janney's emeralds were famous; they had once belonged to Maria +Theresa. As old Sam thought of them he smiled, for he knew why his wife +had decided to wear them. In her climbing days, before her marriage to +him had secured her position, the Delavalles had snubbed her. Now she +was going to snub them, not in any obvious, vulgar way, but finely as +was her wont, with the assistance of himself and Maria Theresa. +</p> + +<p> +The motor came into view gliding up the long drive and the waiting +group roused into expectant animation. Mr. Janney rose, kicking his +trouser legs into shape, Miss Maitland gathered up the papers, and Mrs. +Janney went to the top of the steps. In the tonneau, her body encircled +by Annie's restraining arm, Bébita stood, waving an electric torch and +caroling joyfully: +</p> + +<p> +"It's come—it's come. It was sent to me, in a box, with my name on it." +</p> + +<p> +She leaped out, rushing up the steps to display her treasure, Annie +following with the mail. There was quite a bunch of it which Mrs. Janney +distributed—several for Sam, a pile for herself, one for Suzanne and +one for Miss Maitland. They settled down to it amid a crackling of torn +envelopes, Bébita darting from one to the other. +</p> + +<p> +She tried her mother first: +</p> + +<p> +"Mummy, look. You just press this and the light comes out at the other +end." +</p> + +<p> +Suzanne's eyes on her letter did not lift, and Bébita laid a soft little +hand on the tinted cheek: +</p> + +<p> +"Mummy, do <i>please</i> look." +</p> + +<p> +Suzanne pushed the hand away with an angry movement. +</p> + +<p> +"Let me alone, Bébita," she said sharply and, getting up, thrust the +child out of her way and went into the house. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment Bébita was astonished. Her mother, who was so often cross +to other people, was rarely so to her. But the torch was too enthralling +for any other subject to occupy her thoughts and she turned to her +grandfather, reading a business communication held out in front of his +nose for he had on the wrong glasses. She crowded in under his arm and +sparked the torch at him waiting to see his delighted surprise. But he +only drew her close, kissed her cheek and murmured without moving his +eyes: +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, darling. It's wonderful." +</p> + +<p> +That was not what she wanted so she tried her grandmother: +</p> + +<p> +"Gran, <i>do</i> look at my torch." +</p> + +<p> +Gran looked, not at the torch at all but at Bébita's face, smiled into +it, said, "Dearest, it's lovely and I'm so glad it's come," and went +back to her reading. +</p> + +<p> +It was all disappointing, and Bébita, as a last resource, had to try +Miss Maitland, who, if not a relation, was always sympathetic and +responsive. The Secretary was reading too, holding her letter up high, +almost in front of her face. Bébita laid a sly finger on the top of it, +drew it down and sparked the torch right at Miss Maitland. +</p> + +<p> +In the shoot of brilliant light the Secretary's face was like that of a +stranger—hard and thin, the mouth slightly open, the eyes staring +blankly at Bébita as if they had never seen her before. For a second the +child was dumb, held in a scared amazement, then backing away she +faltered: +</p> + +<p> +"Why—why—how funny you look!" +</p> + +<p> +The words seemed to bring Miss Maitland back to her usual, pleasant +aspect. She drew a deep breath, smiled and said: +</p> + +<p> +"I was thinking, that was all—something I was reading here. The torch +is beautiful; you must let me try it, but not now, I have to go. I've +read the papers to Gramp and I've work to do in my study." +</p> + +<p> +Any one who knew Miss Maitland well might have noticed a forced +sprightliness in her voice. But no one was listening; Suzanne had gone +and Mr. and Mrs. Janney were engrossed in their correspondence. She +stole a look at them, saw them unheeding and, with a farewell nod to +Bébita, rose and crossed the balcony. As she entered the house, the will +that had made her smile, maintained her voice at its clear, fresh note, +relaxed. Her face sharpened, its soft curves grew rigid, her lips closed +in a narrow line. With noiseless steps she ran through the wide foyer +hall and down a passage that led to the room, reserved for her use and +called her study. Here, locking the door, she came to a stand, her hands +clasped against her breast, her eyes fixed and tragic, a figure of +consternation. +</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-iiianother-letter-and-what-followed-it"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id5">CHAPTER III—ANOTHER LETTER AND WHAT FOLLOWED IT</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">Suzanne, her letter crumpled in her hand, had gone directly to her own +room. There she read it for the second time, its baleful import sinking +deeper into her consciousness with every sentence. It was in typewriting +and bore the Berkeley postmark: +</p> +<blockquote><div> +<p class="pfirst">"<span class="small-caps"> +Dear Mrs. Price</span>: +</p> + +<p> +"This is just a line to give your memory and your conscience a +jog. Your bridge debts are accumulating. Also, I hear, there +are dressmakers and milliners in town who are growing restive. +If there was insufficient means I wouldn't bother you, but any +one who dresses and spends as you do hasn't that excuse. +Perhaps you don't know what is being said and <i>felt</i>. Believe +me you wouldn't like it; neither would Mrs. Janney. It is for +her sake that I am warning you. I don't want to see her hurt +and humiliated as she would be if this comes out in <i>The +Eavesdropper</i>, and it will unless you act quickly. 'There's a +chiel among you takin' notes' and that chiel's had a line on +you for some time. So take these words to heart and as the boys +say, 'Come across.' +</p> + +<p> +"<span class="small-caps"> +A Friend.</span>" +</p> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">Ever since the opening of the season the summer colony of which Berkeley +was the hub had been the subject of paragraphs—more or less +scandalous—appearing in <i>The Eavesdropper</i>. The paper, a scurrilous +weekly, had evidently some inside informer, for most of the disclosures +were true and could only have been obtained by a member of the +community. Suzanne, whose debts would make racy reading, had quaked +every time she opened it. So far she had been spared, and she had hoped +to escape by a gradual clearing off of her obligations. But she had not +been able to do it—unforeseen things had happened. And now the dreaded +had come to pass—she would be written up in <i>The Eavesdropper</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Though her allowance had been princely she had kept on going over it +ever since her marriage and her mother had kept on covering the deficit. +But last autumn Mrs. Janney had lost both patience and temper and put +her foot down with a final stamp. Then the winter had come, a feverish, +crowded winter of endless parties and endless card playing, and Suzanne +had somehow gone over it again, gone over—she didn't dare to think of +what she owed. Tradespeople had threatened her, she was afraid to go to +her mother, she told lies and made promises, and at that juncture a +woman friend acquainted her with the mystery of stocks—easy money to be +made in speculation. She had tried that and made a good deal—almost +cleared her score—and then in April all her stocks suddenly went down. +Inquiries revealed the fact that stocks did not always stay down and +reassured she set forth on a zestful orgy of renewed bridge and summer +outfitting. But the stocks never came up, they remained down, as far +down as they could get, against the bottom. +</p> + +<p> +She felt as if she was there herself as she reviewed her position. +</p> + +<p> +She couldn't let it be known. She would be ruined, called dishonest; the +yellow papers might get it—they were always writing things against the +rich. Dick Ferguson would see it, and he despised people who didn't pay +their bills; she had heard him say so to Mr. Janney, remembered his tone +of contempt. There would be no use lying to him for she felt bitterly +certain that Mr. Janney had told him what her mother gave her. There was +nothing for it but to go to Mrs. Janney and she quailed at the thought, +for her mother, forgiving unto seventy times seven, at seventy times +eight could be resolute and relentless. But it was the one way out and +she had to take it. +</p> + +<p> +When no engagements claimed her afternoons Mrs. Janney went for a drive +at four. At lunch she announced her intention of going out in the open +car and asked if any of the others wanted to come. All refused: Mr. +Janney was contemplating a ride, Suzanne would rest, Miss Maitland had +some sewing to do on her dress for that evening. Both Suzanne and Miss +Maitland were very quiet and appeared to suffer from a loss of +appetite. After the meal the Secretary went upstairs and Suzanne +followed. +</p> + +<p> +She waited until Mr. Janney was safely started on his ride, then, +feeling sick and wan, crossed the hall to her mother's boudoir. Mrs. +Janney was at her desk writing letters, with Elspeth, her maid, a +gray-haired, sturdy Scotch woman, standing by the table opening packages +that had just arrived from town. Elspeth, like most of Mrs. Janney's +servants, had been in her employ for years, entering her service in the +old Pittsburg days and being promoted to the post of personal attendant. +She knew a good deal about the household, more even than Dixon, admired +and respected her mistress and disliked Suzanne. +</p> + +<p> +The young woman's first remark was addressed to her, and, curtly +imperious, was of a kind that fed the dislike: +</p> + +<p> +"Go. I want to talk to Mrs. Janney." +</p> + +<p> +"That'll do, Elspeth," said Mrs. Janney quietly. "Thank you very much. +I'll finish the others myself." Then as the woman withdrew into the +bedroom beyond, "I wish you wouldn't speak to Elspeth that way, Suzanne. +It's bad taste and bad manners." +</p> + +<p> +Suzanne was in no state to consider Elspeth's feelings or her own +manners. She was so nervous that she blundered into her subject without +diplomatic preliminaries, gaining no encouragement from her mother's +face, which, at first startled, gradually hardened into stern +indignation. +</p> + +<p> +It was a hateful scene, degenerated—anyway on Suzanne's part—into a +quarrel, a bitter arraignment of her mother as unloving and ungenerous. +For Mrs. Janney refused the money, put her foot down with a stamp that +carried conviction. She was even grimmer and more determined than her +daughter had expected, the girl's anger and upbraidings ineffectual to +gain their purpose as spray to soften a rock. Her decision was ruthless; +Suzanne must pay her own debts, out of her own allowance. Yes, even if +she was written up in the papers. That was <i>her</i> affair: if she did +things that were disgraceful she must bear the disgrace. The interview +ended by Suzanne rushing out of the room, a trail of loud, clamorous +sobs marking her passage to her own door. +</p> + +<p> +When she had gone Mrs. Janney broke down and cried a little. She had +thought the girl improved of late, less selfish, more tender. And now +she had been so cruel; the charge of a lack in love had pierced the +mother's heart. Mr. Janney, returned from his ride, found her there, +looking old, her eyes reddened, her voice husky. When he heard the +story, he took her hand and stroked it. His tact prevented him from +saying what he felt; what he did say was: +</p> + +<p> +"That bridge money'll have to be paid." +</p> + +<p> +"It will <i>all</i> have to be paid," Mrs. Janney sighed, "and I'll have to +pay it as I always have. But I'm going to frighten her—let her think I +won't—for a few days anyway. It's all I can do and it may have some +effect." +</p> + +<p> +Her husband agreed that it might but his thoughts were not hopeful. +There always had to be a crumpled rose leaf and Suzanne was theirs. +</p> + +<p> +He accompanied his wife on her drive and was so understanding, so +unobtrusively soothing and sympathetic, that when they returned she was +once more her masterful, competent self. Noting a bank of storm clouds +rising from the east, she told Otto to bring the limousine when he came +for them at a quarter to eight. Inside the house she summoned Dixon and +said as the family would be out "the help"—it was part of her +beneficent policy to call her retinue by this name when speaking to any +of its members—could go out that night if they so willed. Dixon +admitted that they had already planned a general sortie on "the movies" +in the village. All but Hannah, the cook, who had "something like +shooting pains in her feet, and Delia, the second housemaid, who'd got +an insect in her eyes, Madam. But it wasn't the hurt of it that kept her +in, only the look which she didn't want seen." +</p> + +<p> +At seven the storm drove up, black and lowering, and the rain fell in a +torrent. It was still falling when Mr. and Mrs. Janney descended the +stairs, a little in advance of the time set, for, while dressing, Mrs. +Janney had decided that her costume needed a brightening touch, which +would be suitably imparted by her opal necklace. This, being rarely +worn, was kept with the more valuable jewels in the safe of which +Elspeth did not know the combination. Of course Mrs. Janney did, and at +the foot of the stairs she turned into a passage which led from the +foyer hall into the kitchen wing. It was a short connecting artery of +the great house, lit by two windows that gave on rear lawns, and at +present encumbered by a chair standing near the first window. Mrs. +Janney recognized the chair as one from her sitting room which had been +broken and which Isaac, the footman, had said he could repair. She gave +it a proprietor's inspecting glance, touched the wounded spot, and +encountering wet varnish, warned Mr. Janney away. +</p> + +<p> +In the wall opposite the windows the safe door rose black and +uncompromising as a prison entrance. It was large and old fashioned—put +in by the former owner of Grasslands. Mrs. Janney talked of having a +more modern one substituted but hadn't "got round to it," and anyway Mr. +Janney thought it was all right—burglaries were rare in Berkeley. The +silver had already been stored for the night, the bosses of great bowls, +flowered rims, and filagree edgings shining from darkling recesses. The +electric light across the hallway did not penetrate to the side shelves +and Mr. Janney had to assist with matches while his wife felt round +among the jewel cases, opening several in her search. Finally they +emerged, Mrs. Janney with the opals which after some straining she +clasped round her neck, while Sam closed the door. +</p> + +<p> +As they reëntered the main hall Suzanne came down the stairs, tripping +daintily with small pointed feet. She was very splendid, her slenderness +accentuated by the length of satin swathed about her, from which her +shoulders emerged, girlishly fragile. She was also very much made up, of +a pink and white too dazzlingly pure. With her blushing delicacy of +tint, her angry eyes and sulkily drooping mouth, Mr. Janney thought she +looked exactly like a crumpled rose leaf. +</p> + +<p> +"Where's Miss Maitland?" she said to him, ostentatiously ignoring her +mother. +</p> + +<p> +Before he could answer Esther's voice came from the hall above: +</p> + +<p> +"Coming—coming. I hope I haven't kept you," and she appeared at the +stair-head. +</p> + +<p> +The dress she wore, green trimmed with a design of small, pink chiffon +rosebuds and leaves, was the realized dream of a great Parisian +<i>faiseur</i>. It had been Mrs. Janney's who, considering it too youthful, +had given it to her Secretary. Its vivid hue was singularly becoming, +lending a warm whiteness to the girl's pale skin, bringing out the rich +darkness of her burnished hair. Her bare neck was as smooth as curds, +not a bone rippled its gracious contours; the little rosebuds and leaves +that edged the corsage looked like a garland painted on ivory. +</p> + +<p> +It was a good dinner, but it was not as jolly as Dick Ferguson's dinners +usually were. Before it was over the rain stopped and a full moon shone +through the dining room windows. Suzanne had hoped she and Dick could +saunter off into the rose garden and have that talk about Chapman, but +he showed no desire to do so. They sat about in long chairs on the +balcony and she had to listen to Ham Lorimer's opinions on the war. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as the motor came she wanted to go—she was tired, she had a +headache. It was early, only a quarter past ten, and the night was now +superb, the sky a clear, starless blue with the great moon queening it +alone. Mr. Janney would have liked to linger—he always enjoyed an +evening with Dick—but she was petulantly perverse, and they moved to +the waiting car with Ferguson in attendance. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Janney settled herself in the back seat, Suzanne, lifting +shimmering skirts, prepared to follow, while Miss Maitland waited humbly +to take what room was left among their assembled knees. She was close +to Ferguson who was helping Suzanne in, and looking up at the sky +murmured low to herself: +</p> + +<p> +"What a glorious night!" +</p> + +<p> +Ferguson heard her and dropped Suzanne's arm. +</p> + +<p> +"Isn't it? Too good to waste. Does any one want to walk back to +Grasslands?" +</p> + +<p> +Suzanne, one foot on the step, stopped and turned to him. Her lips +opened to speak, and then she saw the back of his head and heard him +address Esther: +</p> + +<p> +"How about it, Miss Maitland? You're a walker, and it's only a step by +the wood path. We can be there almost as soon as the car." +</p> + +<p> +"You'll get wet," said Mrs. Janney, "the woods will be dripping." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Janney remembered his youth and egged them on: +</p> + +<p> +"Only underfoot and they can change their shoes. Dick's right—it's too +good to waste. I'd go myself but I'm afraid of my rheumatism. Hurry up, +Suzanne, and get in. They want to start." +</p> + +<p> +Miss Maitland said she wasn't afraid of the wet and that it would not +hurt her slippers. Suzanne entered the car and sunk into her corner. As +it rolled away Mr. and Mrs. Janney looked back at the two figures in the +moonlight and waved good-byes. Suzanne sat motionless; all the way home +she said nothing. +</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-ivthe-cigar-band"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id6">CHAPTER IV—THE CIGAR BAND</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">Esther and Ferguson walked across the open spaces of lawn and then +entered the woods. Ferguson had set the pace as slow, but he noticed +that she quickened it, faring along beside him with a light, swift step. +He also noticed that she was quiet, as she had been at dinner; as if she +was abstracted, not like herself. +</p> + +<p> +He had seen a good deal of her lately and thought of her a good +deal—thought many things. One was that she was interesting, provocative +in her quiet reserve, not as easy to see through as most women. She was +clever, used her brains; he had formed a habit of talking to her on +matters that he never spoke of with other girls. And he admired her +looks, nothing cheap about them; "thoroughbred" was the word that always +rose to his mind as he greeted her. It seemed to him all wrong that she +should be working for a wage as the Janneys' hireling, for, though he +was "advanced" in his opinions, when it came to women there was a strain +of sentimentality in his make-up. +</p> + +<p> +On the wood path he let her go ahead, seeing her figure spattered with +white lights that ran across her shoulders and up and down her back. +They had walked in silence for some minutes when he suddenly said: +</p> + +<p> +"What's amiss?" +</p> + +<p> +She slackened her gait so that he came up beside her. +</p> + +<p> +"Amiss? With what, with whom?" +</p> + +<p> +"You. What's wrong? What's on your mind?" +</p> + +<p> +A shaft of moonlight fell through a break in the branches and struck +across her shoulder. It caught the little rosebuds that lay against her +neck and he saw them move as if lifted by a quick breath. +</p> + +<p> +"There's nothing on my mind. Why do you think there is?" +</p> + +<p> +"Because at dinner you didn't eat anything and were as quiet as if there +was an embargo on the English language." +</p> + +<p> +"Couldn't I be just stupid?" +</p> + +<p> +He turned to her, seeing her face a pale oval against the silver-moted +background: +</p> + +<p> +"No. Not if you tried your darndest." +</p> + +<p> +Dick Ferguson's tongue did not lend itself readily to compliments. He +gave forth this one with a seriousness that was almost solemn. +</p> + +<p> +She laughed, the sound suggesting embarrassment, and looked away from +him her eyes on the ground. Just in front of them the woodland roof +showed a gap, and through it the light fell across the path in a +glittering pool. As they advanced upon it she gave an exclamation, +stayed him with an outflung arm, and bent to the moss at her feet: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, wait a minute—How exciting! I've found something." +</p> + +<p> +She raised herself, illumined by the radiance, a small object that +showed a golden glint in her hand. Then her voice came deprecating, +disappointed: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, what a fraud! I thought it was a ring." +</p> + +<p> +On her palm lay what looked like a heavy enameled ring. Ferguson took it +up; it was of paper, a cigar band embossed in red and gold. +</p> + +<p> +"Umph," he said, dropping it back, "I don't wonder you were fooled." +</p> + +<p> +"It was right there on the moss shining in the moonlight. I thought I'd +found something wonderful." She touched it with a careful finger. "It's +new and perfectly dry. It's only been here since the storm." +</p> + +<p> +"Some man taking a short cut through the woods. Better not tell Mrs. +Janney, she doesn't like trespassers." +</p> + +<p> +She held it up, moving it about so that the thick gold tracery shone: +</p> + +<p> +"It's really very pretty. A ring like that wouldn't be at all bad. +Look!" she slipped it on her finger and held the hand out studying it +critically. It was a beautiful hand, like marble against the blackness +of the trees, the band encircling the third finger. +</p> + +<p> +Ferguson looked and then said slowly: +</p> + +<p> +"You've got it on your engagement finger." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, so I have." Her laugh came quick as if to cover confusion and she +drew the band off, saying, as she cast it daintily from her finger-tips, +"There—away with it. I hate to be fooled," and started on at a brisk +pace. +</p> + +<p> +Ferguson bent and picked it up, then followed her. He said nothing for +quite suddenly, at the sight of the ring on her finger, he had been +invaded by a curious agitation, a gripping, upsetting, disturbing +agitation. It was so sharp, so unexpected, so compelling in its rapid +attack, that his outside consciousness seemed submerged by it and he +trod the path unaware of his surroundings. +</p> + +<p> +He had never thought of Esther Maitland being engaged, of ever marrying. +He had accepted her as some one who would always be close at hand, +always accessible, always in town or country to be found at the +Janneys'. And the ring had brought to his mind with a startling +clearness that some day she <i>might</i> marry. Some day a man would put a +ring on that finger, put it on with vows and kisses, put it on as a +sign and symbol of his ownership. Ferguson felt as if he had been shaken +from an agreeable lethargy. He was filled with a surge of indignation, +at what he could not exactly tell. He felt so many things that he did +not know which he felt the most acutely, but a sense of grievance was +mixed with jealousy and both were dominated by an angry certainty that +any man who aspired to her would be unworthy. +</p> + +<p> +When they emerged into the open he looked at her with a new +expression—questioning, almost fierce and yet humble. Sauntering at her +side across the lawn he was so obsessed with these conflicting emotions +that he said not a word, and hardly heard hers. The Janneys were +awaiting them on the balcony steps and after an exchange of good-nights +he turned back to the wood trail and went home. In his room he threw +himself on the sofa and lay there, his hands clasped behind his head, +staring at the ceiling. It was long after midnight when he went to bed, +and before he did so he put the cigar band in the jewel box with the +crystal lid that stood on the bureau. +</p> + +<p> +The Janney party trailed into the house, Sam stopping to lock the door +as the ladies moved to the stair foot. Suzanne went up with a curt +"good-night" to her mother, and no word or look for the Secretary. +Esther did not appear to notice it and, pausing with her hand on the +balustrade, proffered a request—could she have to-morrow, Saturday, to +go to town? She was very apologetic; her day off was Thursday and she +had no right to ask for another, but a friend had unexpectedly arrived +in the city, would be there for a very short time and she was extremely +anxious to see her. Mrs. Janney granted the favor with sleepy +good-nature and Miss Maitland, very grateful, passed up the stairs, the +old people dragging slowly in her wake, dropping remarks to one another +between yawns. +</p> + +<p> +A long hall crossed the upper floor, one side of which was given over to +the Price household. Here were Suzanne's rooms, Chapman's empty +habitation, and opposite them Bébita's nurseries. The other side was +occupied on the front by Mrs. Janney and the Secretary with a line of +guest chambers across the passage. In a small room between his wife's +and his stepdaughter's Mr. Janney had ensconced himself. He liked the +compact space, also his own little balcony where he had his steamer +chair and could read and sun himself. As the place was much narrower +than the apartments on either side a short branch of hall connected it +with the main corridor. His door, at the end of this hall, commanded the +head of the stairway. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Janney had a restless night; he knew he would have for he had taken +champagne and coffee and the combination was always disturbing. When he +heard the clocks strike twelve he resigned himself to a <i>nuit blanche</i> +and lay wide awake listening to the queer sounds that a house gives out +in the silent hours. They were of all kinds, gurglings and creaks coming +out of the walls, a series of small imperative taps which seemed to +emerge from his chest of drawers, thrummings and thrillings as if winged +things were shut in the closets. +</p> + +<p> +Half-past twelve and one struck and he thought he was going off when he +heard a new sound that made him listen—the creaking of a door. He +craned up his old tousled head and gave ear, his eyes absently fixed on +the strips and spots of moonlight that lay white on the carpet. It was +very still, not a whisper, and then suddenly the dogs began to bark, a +trail of yaps and yelps that advanced across the lawn. Close to the +house they subsided, settling down into growls and conversational +snufflings, and he sank back on his pillow. But he was full of nerves, +and the idea suddenly occurred to him that Bébita might be sick, it +might have been the nursery door that had opened—Annie going to fetch +Mrs. Janney. He'd take a look to be sure—if anything was wrong there +would be a light. +</p> + +<p> +He climbed out of bed and stole into the hall. No light but the moon, +throwing silvery slants across the passage and the stair-head, and +relieved, he tiptoed back. It was while he was noiselessly closing his +door that he heard something which made him stop, still as a statue, +his faculties on the qui vive, his eye glued to the crack—a footstep +was ascending the stairs. It was as soft as the fall of snow, so light, +so stealthy that no one, unless attentive as he was, would have caught +it. Yet it was there, now and then a muffled creak of the boards +emphasizing its advance. The corridor at the head of the stairs was as +bright as day and with his eye to the crack he waited, his heart beating +high and hard. +</p> + +<p> +Rising into the white wash of moonlight came Suzanne, moving with +careful softness, her eyes sending piercing glances up and down the +hall. Her expression was singular, slightly smiling, with something sly +in its sharpened cautiousness. As she rose into full view he saw that +she held her wrapper bunched against her waist with one hand and in the +other carried Bébita's torch. He was so relieved that he made no move or +sound, but, as she disappeared in the direction of her room, softly +closed his door and went back to bed. +</p> + +<p> +She had evidently left something downstairs, a book probably—he could +not see what she had in the folds of the wrapper—and had gone to get +it. If she was wakeful it was a good sign, indicated the condition of +distressful unease her mother had hoped to create. Such alarm might lead +to a salutory reform, a change, if not of heart, of behavior. Comforted +by the thought, he turned on his pillow and at last slept. +</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-vrobbery-in-high-places"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id7">CHAPTER V—ROBBERY IN HIGH PLACES</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">The next morning Mr. Janney had to read the papers to himself for Miss +Maitland went to town on the 8:45. He sat on the balcony and missed her, +for the Chicago murder had developed several new features and he had no +one to talk them over with. Suzanne, who never came down to breakfast, +appeared at twelve and said she was going to the Fairfax's to lunch with +bridge afterward. Though she was not yet aware of Mrs. Janney's +intention to once more come to her aid, her gloom and ill-humor had +disappeared. She looked bright, almost buoyant, her eyes showing a +lively gleam, her lips parting in ready smiles. She was going to the +beach before lunch, and left with a large knitting bag slung from her +arm, and a parasol tilted over her shoulder. It was not until she was +half way across the lawn that old Sam remembered her nocturnal +appearance which he had intended asking her about. +</p> + +<p> +She was hardly out of sight when Bébita and Annie came into view on the +drive, returning from the morning bath. Bébita had a trouble and raced +up the steps to tell him—she had lost her torch. She was quite +disconsolate over it; Annie had said they'd surely find it, but it +wasn't anywhere, and she <i>knew</i> she'd left it on the nursery table when +she went to bed. In the light of subsequent events Mr. Janney thought +his answer to the child had been dictated by Providence. Why he didn't +say, "Your mother knows; she had it last night," he never could explain; +nor what prompted the words, "Ask your mother; she's probably seen it +somewhere." Bébita accepted the suggestion with some hope and then, +hearing that her mother would not be home until the afternoon, fell into +momentary dejection. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Janney was to take her accustomed drive at four and her husband +said he would go with her. Some time before the hour he appeared on the +balcony, cool and calm, his poise restored after the trials of the +previous day and the disturbed night, and sat down to wait. Inside the +house his wife was busy. Several important papers had come on the +morning mail and these, with the opals, she decided to put in the safe +before starting. After they were stored in their shelves and the opals +back in their box she could not resist a look at her emeralds, of all +her material possessions the dearest. She lifted the purple velvet case +and opened it—the emeralds were not there. +</p> + +<p> +She stood motionless, experiencing an inner sense of upheaval, her +heart leaping and then sinking down, her body shaken by a tremor such as +the earth feels when rocked by a seismic throe. She tried to hold +herself steady and opened the other cases—the two pearl necklaces, the +sapphire rivière, the diamond and ruby tiara. As each revealed its +emptiness her hands began to tremble until, when she reached the white +suède box of the black pearl pendant, they shook so she could hardly +find the clasp. Everything was gone—a clean sweep had been made of the +Janney jewels. +</p> + +<p> +Moving with a firm step, she went to the balcony. In the doorway she +came to a halt and said quietly to her husband: +</p> + +<p> +"Sam, my jewels have been stolen." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Janney squared round, stared at her, and ejaculated in feeble +denial: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh <i>no</i>!" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh yes," she answered with the same note of grim control, "Come and +see." +</p> + +<p> +When he saw, his old veined hands shaking as they dropped the rifled +cases, he turned and blankly faced his wife who was watching him with a +level scrutiny. +</p> + +<p> +"Mary!" was all he could falter. "Mary, my <i>dear</i>!" +</p> + +<p> +"Last night," she nodded, "when we were out. The place was almost empty. +I'll call the servants." +</p> + +<p> +She went to the foot of the stairs and called Elspeth, old Sam, +bewildered by this sudden catastrophe, emerging from the safe, as pale +and shaken as if he was the burglar. +</p> + +<p> +"Last night, of course last night," he murmured, trying to think. "They +were here at eight. I saw them, we saw them, anybody could have seen +them." +</p> + +<p> +Elspeth appeared on the stairs and came running down, Mrs. Janney's +orders delivered like pistol shots upon her advance: +</p> + +<p> +"I've been robbed. The safe's been opened and all the jewels are gone. +Go and call the servants, every one of them. Tell them to come here at +once." +</p> + +<p> +Elspeth knew enough to make no reply, and, with a terrified face, +scudded past her mistress to the kitchen. Mrs. Janney, her attention +attracted by sounds of distracted amazement from her husband, mobilized +him: +</p> + +<p> +"Go and get Miss Maitland. We'll have to send for detectives. She can do +it—she doesn't lose her head." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Janney, too stunned to be anything but meekly obedient, trotted off +down the hall to Miss Maitland's study, then stopped and came back: +</p> + +<p> +"She's in town; she hasn't got back yet." +</p> + +<p> +"Tch!" Mrs. Janney gave a sound of exasperation. "I'd forgotten it. How +maddening! You'll have to do it. Go in there to the 'phone"—she +indicated the telephone closet at the end of the hall. "Call up the +Kissam Agency—that's the best. We had them when the bell boy at +Atlantic City stole my sables. Get Kissam himself and tell him what's +happened and to take hold at once—to come now, not to waste a minute. +And don't you either—hurry!—" +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Janney hasted away and shut himself in the telephone closet, as the +servants, marshaled by Dixon and Elspeth, entered in a scared group. +They had been taking tea in their own dining room when Elspeth burst in +with the direful news. Eight of them were old employees—had been years +in Mrs. Janney's service. Hannah, the cook, had been with her nearly as +long as Dixon; Isaac, the footman, was her nephew. Dixon's large, +heavy-jowled face was stamped with aghast concern; the kitchen maid was +in tears. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Janney addressed them like what she was—a general in command of +her forces: +</p> + +<p> +"My jewels have been stolen. Some time last night the safe was opened +and they were taken. It is my order that every one of you stay in the +house, not holding communication with any one outside, until the police +have been here and made a thorough investigation. Your rooms and your +trunks will have to be searched and I expect you to submit to it +willingly with no grumbling." +</p> + +<p> +Dixon answered her: +</p> + +<p> +"It's what we'd expect, Madam. Me and Isaac both know the combination +and we'd want to have our own characters cleared as much as we'd want +you to get back your valuables." +</p> + +<p> +Hannah spoke: +</p> + +<p> +"We'd welcome it, Mrs. Janney. There's none of us wants any suspicion +restin' on 'em." +</p> + +<p> +Delia, the housemaid with the inflamed eye, took it up. She was a +newcomer in the household, and in her fright her brogue acquired an +unaccustomed richness: +</p> + +<p> +"God knows I was in my room at nine, and not a move out of me till sivin +the nixt mornin' and that's to-day." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Janney, issuing from the telephone closet, here interrupted them. He +addressed his wife: +</p> + +<p> +"It's all right. I got Kissam himself. He'll be here on the 5:30." +</p> + +<p> +She answered with a nod and was turning for further instructions to +Dixon when Suzanne entered from the balcony. Up to that moment Mr. +Janney had forgotten all about his nocturnal vision; now it came back +upon him with a shattering impact. +</p> + +<p> +He felt his knees turn to water and his heart sink down to inner, +unplumbed depths in his anatomy. He grasped at the back of a chair and +for once his manners deserted him, for he dropped into it though his +wife was standing. +</p> + +<p> +"What's all this?" said Suzanne, coming to a halt, her glance shifting +from her mother to the group of solemn servants. She looked very +pretty, her face flushed, the blue tint of her linen dress harmonizing +graciously with her pink cheeks and corn-colored hair. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Janney explained. As she did so old Sam, his face as gray as his +beard, watched his stepdaughter with a furtive eye. Suzanne appeared +amazed, quite horror-stricken. She too sank into a chair, and listened, +open-mouthed, her feet thrust out before her, the high heels planted on +the rug. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, what an awful thing!" was her final comment. Then as if seized by +a sudden thought she turned on Dixon. +</p> + +<p> +"Were all the windows and doors locked last night?" +</p> + +<p> +"All on the lower floor, Mrs. Price. Me and Isaac went round them before +we started for the village, and there's not a night—" +</p> + +<p> +Suzanne cut him off brusquely: +</p> + +<p> +"Then how could any one get in to do it?" +</p> + +<p> +There was a curious, surging movement among the servants, a mutter of +protest. Mr. Janney intervened: +</p> + +<p> +"You'd better let matters alone, Suzanne. Detectives are coming and +they'll inquire into all that sort of thing." +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose I can ask a question if I like," she said pertly, then +suddenly; looking about the hall, "Where's Miss Maitland?" +</p> + +<p> +"In town," said her mother. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh—she went in, did she? I thought her day off was Thursday." +</p> + +<p> +"She asked for to-day—what <i>does</i> it matter?" Mrs. Janney was irritated +by these irrelevancies and turned to the servants: "Now I've instructed +you and for your own sakes obey what I've said. Not a man or woman +leaves the house till after the police have made their search. That +applies to the garage men and the gardeners. Dixon, you can tell them—" +she stopped, the crunch of motor wheels on the gravel had caught her +ear. "There's some one coming. I'm not at home, Dixon." +</p> + +<p> +The servants huddled out to their own domain and Dixon, with a +resumption of his best hall-door manner, went to ward off the visitor. +But it was only Miss Maitland returning from town. She had several small +packages in her hands and looked pale and tired. +</p> + +<p> +The news that greeted her—Mrs. Janney was her informant—left her as +blankly amazed as it had the others. She was shocked, asked questions, +could hardly believe it. Old Sam found the opportunity a good one to +study Suzanne, who appeared extremely interested in the Secretary's +remarks. Once, when Miss Maitland spoke of keeping some of her books and +the house-money in the safe, he saw his stepdaughter's eyelids flutter +and droop over the bird-bright fixity of her glance. +</p> + +<p> +It was at this stage that Bébita ran into the hall and made a joyous +rush for her mother: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Mummy, I've <i>waited</i> and <i>waited</i> for you,"—she flung herself +against Suzanne's side in soft collision. "I've lost my torch and I've +asked everybody and nobody's seen it. Do <i>you</i> know where it is?" +</p> + +<p> +Suzanne arched her eyebrows in playful surprise, then putting a finger +under the rounded chin, lifted her daughter's face and kissed her, +softly, sweetly, tenderly. +</p> + +<p> +"Darling, I'm so sorry, but I haven't seen it anywhere. If you can't +find it I'll buy you another." +</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-vipoor-mr-janney"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id8">CHAPTER VI—POOR MR. JANNEY!</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">The peace and aristocratic calm of the Janney household was disrupted. +Into its dignified quietude burnt an irruption of alien activity and the +great white light of publicity. Kissam with his minions came that +evening and reporters followed like bloodhounds on the scent. Scenes +were enacted similar to those Mr. Janney had read in novels and +witnessed at the theater, but which, in his most fevered imaginings, he +had never thought could transpire in his own home. It was unreal, like a +nightmare, a phantasmagoria of interviews with terrified servants, +trampings up and down stairs, strange men all over the place, reporters +on the steps, the telephone bell and the front door bell ringing +ceaselessly. Everybody was in a state of tense excitement except Mr. +Janney whose condition was that of still, frozen misery. There were +moments when he was almost sorry he'd married again. +</p> + +<p> +After introductory parleys with the heads of the house the searchlight +of inquiry was turned on the servants. Their movements on the fateful +night were subject of special attention. When Kissam elicited the fact +that they had not returned from the village till nearly midnight he fell +on it with ominous avidity. Dixon, however, had a satisfactory +explanation, which he offered with a martyred air of forbearance. Mr. +Price's man, Willitts, had that morning come up from town to Cedar +Brook, the next station along the line. In the afternoon he had biked +over to see them and, hearing of their plan to visit the movies, had +arranged to meet them there. This he did, afterward taking them to the +Mermaid Ice Cream Parlors where he had treated them to supper. They had +left there about half past eleven, Willitts going back to Cedar Brook +and the rest of them walking home to Grasslands. +</p> + +<p> +From the women left in the house little was to be gathered. This was +unfortunate as the natural supposition was that the burglary had been +committed during the hours when they were alone there. Both, feeling +ill, had retired early, Delia at about half-past eight, going +immediately to bed and quickly falling asleep. Hannah was later; about +nine, she thought. It was very quiet, not a sound, except that after she +got to her room she heard the dogs barking. They made a great row at +first, running down across the lawn, then they quieted, "easing off with +sort of whines and yaps, like it was somebody they knew." She had not +bothered to look out of the window because she thought it was one of the +work people from the neighborhood, making a short cut through the +grounds. +</p> + +<p> +In the matter of the safe all was incomprehensible and mysterious. Five +people in the house knew the combination—Mr. and Mrs. Janney, Dixon and +Isaac and Miss Maitland. Mrs. Janney was as certain of the honesty of +her servants and her Secretary as she was of her own. She rather +resented the detectives' close questioning of the latter. But Miss +Maitland showed no hesitation or annoyance, replying clearly and +promptly to everything they asked. She kept the house money and some of +her account books in the safe and on the second of the month—five days +before the robbery—had taken out such money as she had there to pay the +working people who did not receive checks. She managed the financial +side of the establishment, she explained, paying the wages and bills and +drawing the checks for Mrs. Janney's signature. +</p> + +<p> +Questioned about her movements that afternoon, her answers showed the +same intelligent frankness. She had spent the two hours after lunch +altering the dress she was to wear that evening. As it was very warm in +her room she had taken part of it to her study on the ground floor. When +she had finished her work—about four—she had gone for a walk returning +just before the storm. After that she had retired to her room and +stayed there until she came down to go to Mr. Ferguson's dinner. +</p> + +<p> +The safe and its surroundings were subjected to a minute inspection +which revealed nothing. Neither window had been tampered with, the locks +were intact, the sills unscratched, the floor showed no foot-mark. There +were no traces of finger prints either upon the door or the +metal-clamped boxes in which the jewel cases were kept. The mended chair +was just as Mrs. Janney remembered it, set between the safe and the +window, in the way of any one passing along the hall. +</p> + +<p> +It was on Sunday afternoon—twenty-four hours after the discovery—that +Dick Ferguson appeared with one of his gardeners, who had a story to +tell. On Friday night the man had been to a card party in the garage of +a neighboring estate and had come home late "across lots." His final +short cut had been through Grasslands, where he had passed round by the +back of the house. He thought the time would be on toward one-thirty. +Skirting the kitchen wing he had seen a light in a ground floor window, +a window which he was able to indicate. He described the light as not +very strong and white, not yellow like a lamp or candle. As he looked at +it he noticed that it diminished in brightness as if it was withdrawn, +moved away down a hall or into a room. He could see no figure, simply +the lit oblong of the window, with the pattern of a lace curtain over +it, and anyway he hadn't noticed much, supposing it to be one of the +servants coming home late like himself. +</p> + +<p> +This settled the hour of the robbery. It had not been committed when the +place was almost deserted, but when all its occupants were housed and +sleeping. The window, pointed out by the man, was directly opposite the +safe door, the light as he described it could only have been made by an +electric lantern or torch, its gradual diminishment caused by its +removal into the recess of the safe. +</p> + +<p> +If before this Mr. Janney's mental state was painful, it now became +agonized. He was afraid to be with the detectives for fear of what he +would hear, and he was afraid to leave them alone, for fear of what he +might miss. When Mrs. Janney conferred with Kissam he sat by her side, +swallowing on a dry throat, and trying to control the inner trembling +that attacked him every time the man opened his lips. He gave way to +secret, futile cursings of the jewels, distracted prayers that they +never might be found. For if they were, the theft might be traced to its +author—and <i>then</i> what? It would be the end of his wife, her proud head +would be lowered forever, her strong heart broken. Sleep entirely +forsook him and the people who came to call treated him with a soothing +gentleness as if they thought he was dying. +</p> + +<p> +His misery reached a climax when something he remembered, and every one +else had forgotten, came to light. It was one day in the library when +Kissam asked Mrs. Janney if there had ever been any one else in the +house—a discharged employee or relation—who had known the combination. +Mrs. Janney said no and then recollected that Chapman Price did, he had +kept his tobacco in the safe as the damp spoiled it. Kissam showed no +interest—he knew Chapman Price was her son-in-law and was no longer an +inmate—and then suddenly asked what had been done with the written +combination. +</p> + +<p> +At that question Mr. Janney felt like a shipwrecked mariner deprived of +the spar to which he has been clinging. He saw his wife's face charged +with aroused interest—she'd forgotten it, it was in Mr. Janney's desk, +had always been kept there. They went to the desk and found it under a +sheaf of papers in a drawer that was unlocked. Kissam looked at it, felt +and studied the papers, then put it back in a silence that made Mr. +Janney feel sick. +</p> + +<p> +After that he was prepared for anything to happen, but nothing did. He +got some comfort from the papers, which assumed the robbery to have been +an "outside job"; no one in the house fitting the character of a +suspect. It was the work of experts, who had entered by the second +story, and were of that class of burglar known as "tumblers" Mr. +Janney, who had never heard of a "tumbler" save as a vessel from which +to drink, now learned that it was a crackman, who from a sensitive touch +and long training, could manipulate the locks and work out the +combination. He found himself thanking heaven that such men existed. +</p> + +<p> +When a week passed and nothing of moment came to the surface, the Janney +jewel robbery slipped back to the inside page, and, save in the environs +of Berkeley, ceased to occupy the public mind. Mr. Janney could once +more walk in his own grounds without fear of reporters leaping on him +from the shrubberies or emerging from behind statues and garden benches. +His tense state relaxed, he began to breathe freely, and, in this +restoration to the normal, he was able to think of what he ought to do. +Somehow, some day, he would have to face Suzanne with his knowledge and +get the jewels back. It would be a day of fearful reckoning; it was so +appalling to contemplate that he shrank from it even in thought. He said +he wasn't strong enough yet, would work up to it, get some more sleep +and his nerves in better shape. And she might—there was always the +hope—she might get frightened and return them herself. +</p> + +<p> +So he rested in a sort of breathing spell between the first, grinding +agony and the formidably looming future. But it was not to last—events +were shaping to an end that he had never suspected and that came upon +him like a bolt from the blue. +</p> + +<p> +It happened one afternoon eight days after the robbery. Mrs. Janney and +Suzanne had gone for a drive and he was alone in the library, listlessly +going over the morning papers. His zest in the news had left him—the +Chicago murder offered no interest, the stabbed policeman in desperate +case from blood poisoning, his assailant still at large, could not +conjure away his dark anxieties. With his glasses dangling from his +finger, his eyes on the green sweep of the lawn, he was roused by a +knock on the door. It was Dixon announcing Mr. Kissam, who had walked up +from the village and wanted to see him. +</p> + +<p> +Kissam, with a brief phrase of greeting, closed the door and sat down. +Mr. Janney thought his manner, which was always hard and brusque, was +softened by a suggestion of confidence, something of intimacy as one who +speaks man to man. It made him nervous and his uneasiness was not +relieved in the least by the detective's words. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm glad to find you alone, Mr. Janney. I 'phoned up and heard from +Dixon that the ladies were out and that's why I came. I want to consult +you before I say anything to Mrs. Janney." +</p> + +<p> +"That's quite right," said Mr. Janney, then added with a feeble attempt +at lightness, "Are you, as the children say, getting any warmer?" +</p> + +<p> +"We're very warm. In fact I think we've almost got there. But it's +rather a ticklish situation." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Janney did not answer; he glanced at his shoes, then at the silver +on the desk. For the moment he was too perturbed to look at Kissam's +shrewd, attentive face. +</p> + +<p> +"It's so out of the ordinary run," the man went on, "and <i>so much</i> is +involved that I decided not to move without first telling you. The +family being so prominent—" +</p> + +<p> +"The family!" Mr. Janney spoke before he thought, his limp hands +suddenly clenching on the arms of the chair. +</p> + +<p> +The detective's eyes steadied on the gripped fingers. +</p> + +<p> +"What do you mean? Let me have it straight," said the old man huskily. +</p> + +<p> +Kissam put his hand in his hip pocket and drew out an electric torch +which he put on the desk. +</p> + +<p> +"This torch I myself found two days ago in a desk in Mrs. Price's room. +It was pushed back in a drawer which was full of letters and papers. It +fits the description of the torch that was lost by Mrs. Price's little +girl." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Janney's head sunk forward on his breast, and Kissam knew now that +his suspicions were correct and that the old man had known all along. +He was sorry for him: +</p> + +<p> +"Mrs. Price not being your daughter, Mr. Janney, I decided to come to +you. I suspected her after the second day and I'll tell you why. I had a +private interview with that woman Elspeth, Mrs. Janney's maid, and she +told me of a quarrel she had overheard between Mrs. Janney and her +daughter. The subject of the quarrel was money, Mrs. Price asking for a +large sum to meet certain debts and losses in the stock market which +Mrs. Janney refused to give her. That supplied the motive and gave me +the lead. The loss of the torch was also significant. The child was +confident—and children are very accurate—that she had left it on the +table in her nursery when she went to bed. The proximity of the two +rooms made the theft of the torch an easy matter. What puzzled me was +how Mrs. Price had gained access to the safe, but that was cleared up +when the written combination was found in your desk here; and finally I +ran across what I should call perfectly conclusive evidence in Mrs. +Price's room. I don't refer only to the torch, but to the fact that a +wrapper that was hanging in the back of one of the closets showed a +smudge of varnish on the skirt." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Janney leaned forward over his clasped hands, feeling wan and +shriveled. +</p> + +<p> +"If your surmise is right," he said, "where has she put them?" +</p> + +<p> +"If!" echoed the other. "I don't see any if about it. You can't suspect +either of the men servants—reliable people of established +character—nor Miss Maitland. A girl in her position—even if she +happened to be dishonest, which I don't for a moment think she +is—wouldn't tackle a job as big as that. Come, Mr. Janney, we don't +need to dodge around the stump. As soon as I'd spoken I saw you thought +Mrs. Price had done it." +</p> + +<p> +The old man nodded and said sadly: +</p> + +<p> +"I did." +</p> + +<p> +"Would you mind telling me why you did?" +</p> + +<p> +There was nothing for it but to tell, and he told, the detective +suppressing a grin of triumph. It cleared up everything, was as +conclusive as if they'd seen her commit the act. +</p> + +<p> +"As for where she put them," he said, "she may have a hiding place in +the house that we haven't discovered, or cached them outside. In matters +like this women sometimes show a remarkable cunning. I've looked up her +movements on the Saturday and it's possible she hid them somewhere in +the woods. She left the house at twelve, carrying a silk work bag, +walked past Ferguson's place and talked there with him in the garden for +about fifteen minutes, went on to the beach, sat there a while, and +then walked to the Fairfax house on the bluff, where she stayed to +lunch, coming back here about half-past four. She had ample opportunity +during that time and in the places she passed through to find a cache +for them." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Janney raised a gray, pitiful face: +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Kissam, if Mrs. Janney knew this it would kill her." +</p> + +<p> +Kissam gave back an understanding look: +</p> + +<p> +"That's why I came to you." +</p> + +<p> +"Then it must stop here—with me." The old man spoke with a sudden, +fierce vehemence. "It <i>can't</i> go further. The girl's been a torment and +a trouble for years. I won't let her end by breaking her mother's heart, +bringing her gray hairs with sorrow to the grave. Good God, I'd rather +say I did it myself." +</p> + +<p> +"There's no need for that. We can let it fizzle out, die down +gradually." He gave a slight, sardonic smile. "I've happened on this +sort of thing before, Mr. Janney. The rich have their skeletons in the +closet, and I've helped to keep 'em there, shut in tight." +</p> + +<p> +"Then for heaven's sake do it in this case—help me hide this skeleton. +Keep up the search for a while so that Mrs. Janney won't suspect +anything; play your part. Mr. Kissam, if you'll aid me in keeping this +dark there's nothing I wouldn't do to repay you." +</p> + +<p> +Kissam disclaimed all desire for reward. His professional pride was +justified; he had made good to his own satisfaction. And, as he had +said, the case presented no startling novelty to his seasoned +experience. Many times he had helped distracted families to suppress +ugly revelations, presented an impregnable front to the press, and seen, +with a cynical amusement, columns shrink to paragraphs and the public's +curiosity fade to the vanishing point. He promised he would aid in the +slow quenching of the Janney sensation, gradually let it flicker out, +keep his men on the job for a while longer for Mrs. Janney's benefit, +and finally let the matter decline to the status of an "unsolved +mystery." +</p> + +<p> +As to the restoration of the jewels he gave advice. Say nothing for a +time, sit quiet and give no sign. If she was as thoroughly scared as she +ought to be, she would probably return them—they would wake one fine +morning and find everything back in the safe. If, however, she tried to +realize on them it would be easy to trace them—he would be on the +watch—and then Mr. Janney could confront her with his knowledge and +have her under his thumb forever. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Janney was extremely grateful—not at the prospect of having Suzanne +under his thumb, that was too complete a reversal of positions to be +comfortable—but at the detective's kindly comprehension and aid. With +tears in his eyes he wrung Kissam's hand and honored him by a personal +escort to the front door. +</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-viiconcerning-detectives"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id9">CHAPTER VII—CONCERNING DETECTIVES</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">Kissam kept his word and the interest in the Janney robbery began to +languish. Detectives still came and went, morning trains still disgorged +reporters, but it was not as it had been. The first, fine careless +rapture of the chase was over; nothing new was discovered, nothing old +developed. The house settled back to its methodical régime, the faces of +its inmates lost their looks of harassed distress. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Janney, though much pacified, was not yet restored to his normal +poise. His wife was now the object of his secret attention, for he knew +her to be a very sharp and observant person, and the fear that she might +"catch on" haunted him. It was therefore very upsetting when she +remarked one morning at breakfast that "those men didn't seem to be +doing much. They were just where they had been ten days ago." +</p> + +<p> +He tried to reassure her—it would be a long slow affair—didn't she +remember the James case, where a year after the theft the jewels were +found under the skin of a ham hanging in the cellar? Mrs. Janney was +not appeased, she scoffed at the ham, and said the detectives were the +stupidest body of men in the country outside Congress. She was going to +offer a reward, ten thousand dollars—and then she muttered something +about "taking a hand herself." In answer to Mr. Janney's alarmed +questions she quieted down, laughed, and said she didn't mean anything. +</p> + +<p> +She did, however, and had Mr. Janney known it wakeful nights would again +have been his portion. But she had no intention of telling him. She had +seen that he was worn out, a mere bundle of nerves, and what she +intended to do would be done without his knowledge or connivance. This +was to start a private inquiry of her own. The written combination, +loose in an unlocked drawer, had influenced her; it was possible some +one in the house had found it. She felt that she owed it to her +dependents and herself to make sure. And the best way to do this was to +have a detective on the spot—but a detective whose profession would be +unknown. Fortunately the plan was workable; there was a vacancy in the +household staff. For the past month she had been advocating the +engagement of a nursery governess for Bébita. +</p> + +<p> +Two days after her slip to Mr. Janney an opportunity came for broaching +the subject. They were at lunch when Suzanne announced that she intended +going to town the next morning. It was about Bébita—the child's eyes, +which had troubled her in the spring, were again inflamed and she had +complained of pain in them. Suzanne wanted to consult the oculist; she +hoped a prescription would be sufficient, but of course if he insisted +on seeing the child she would have to be taken in for an examination. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Janney thought it the right thing to do and said she would +accompany her daughter. Suzanne, who was eating her lunch, paused with +suspended fork and sidelong eye;—why was that necessary, she was +perfectly competent to attend to the matter. Mrs. Janney agreed and said +she was going on another errand—to see about the nursery governess they +had spoken of so often. It was time something was done, Bébita was +running wild, forgetting all she had learned last winter. Mrs. Janney +had heard of several women who might answer and would spend the day +looking them up and interviewing them. Suzanne returned to her food. +"Oh, very well, it might be a good thing, only please get some one young +and cheerful who didn't put on airs and want to be a member of the +family." +</p> + +<p> +One of Suzanne's fads was a fear of the Pennsylvania Tunnel. Whether it +was a pose or genuine she absolutely refused to go through it, declaring +that on her one trip she had nearly died of fright and the pressure on +her ears. Since that alarming experience she always went to the city +either by the old Long Island Ferry route, or by motor across the +Queensborough Bridge. +</p> + +<p> +It being a fine morning they decided to drive in—about an hour's +run—and at ten they started forth. They chatted amicably, for Suzanne, +since the robbery and the knowledge that her debts were paid, had been +unusually gay and good-humored. They separated at Altman's, Mrs. Janney +keeping the motor, Suzanne taking a taxi. At four they would meet at a +tea room and drive home together. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Janney's first point of call was a strange place in which to look +for a nursery governess. It was the office of Whitney & Whitney, her +lawyers, far downtown near Wall Street. She was at once conducted into +Mr. Whitney's sanctum, for besides being an important client she was a +personal friend. He moved forward to meet her—a large, slightly +stooped, heavily built man with a shock of thick gray hair, and eyes, +singularly clear and piercing, overshadowed by bushy brows. His son, +George, was sent for, and after greetings, jolly and intimate, they +settled down to talk over Mrs. Janney's business. +</p> + +<p> +She told them the situation and her needs—could <i>they</i> find the sort of +person she wanted. She knew they employed detectives of all sorts and +Kissam's men had been so lacking in energy and so stupid that she +wanted no more of that kind. She had to have a woman of whose character +they were assured, and sufficiently presentable to pass muster with the +master and the servants. Mr. Whitney gave a look at his son and they +exchanged a smile. +</p> + +<p> +"Go and see if you can get her on the wire, George," he said, "and if +she's willing tell her to come down right now." Then as the young man +left the room he turned to Mrs. Janney. "I know the very person, the +best in New York, if she'll undertake it." +</p> + +<p> +"Some one who's thoroughly reliable and can fit into the place?" +</p> + +<p> +"My dear friend, she's as reliable as you are and that's saying a good +deal. As to fitting in, leave that to her. In her natural state there +are still some rough edges, but when she's playing a part they don't +show. She's smart enough to hide them." +</p> + +<p> +"Who is she—a detective?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not a real one, not a professional. She was a telephone girl and then +she made a good marriage—fellow named Babbitts, star reporter on the +<i>Despatch</i>. She's in love and happy and prosperous, but now and again +she'll do work for us. It's partly for old sakes' sake and partly +because she has the passion of the artist—can't resist if the call +comes to her. She came to our notice during the Hesketh case—did some +of the cleverest work I ever saw and got Reddy out of prison. The +Reddys are among her best friends—can't do too much for her." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Janney, who knew the beautiful Mrs. Reddy, was impressed. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you think she'll come?" she asked anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +He gave her a meaning look and nodded; +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. It's an unusually interesting case." +</p> + +<p> +Half an hour later Mrs. Janney met Molly Morgenthau Babbitts and laid +the situation before her. She found the much-vaunted young woman, a +pretty, slender girl, with crisply curly black hair, honest brown eyes, +and a pleasantly simple manner. Mrs. Janney liked what she said and +liked her. There was no doubt about her intelligence and as to rousing +any suspicions in the household—she would have deceived Mr. Janney—she +even would have deceived Dixon. As the case was outlined she could not +hide her kindling interest and, when she agreed to undertake the work, +Mrs. Janney felt that the nursery governess idea had been an +inspiration. The interview ended with practical details: Mrs. Babbitts +would make her reports to the Whitneys, who would figure as her +employers and would hand on her findings to Mrs. Janney. She would +arrive by the twelve-thirty train on the following day and be known at +Grasslands as Miss Rodgers. As they were separating she asked if there +was a branch telephone on the upper floor and, being told that there was +in an alcove off the main hall, requested that her room might be near +it as the telephone played an important part in her work. +</p> + +<p> +Suzanne's course had a curious resemblance to her mother's, though her +plan of procedure was different. +</p> + +<p> +From the day after the robbery she had developed an interest in the +telephone "Red Book." She had taken it to her room and turning to the +D's studied the list of detective agencies. After much comparison and +cogitation she had copied down the name of one Horace Larkin, who +appeared to be in business by himself and whose office was in a central +and accessible part of the city. +</p> + +<p> +After she had parted from her mother she went to a department store, +shut herself in a telephone booth, and called up Mr. Larkin. A masculine +voice, that of Larkin himself, had answered, and explaining her desire +to see him on important business, he had made an appointment to meet her +that afternoon at the Janney house on Fifth Avenue. +</p> + +<p> +This was an excellent place for Suzanne's purpose, closed for the +summer, its porch boarded up, its blue-blinded windows proclaiming its +desertion. An ancient caretaker occupied the basement with her niece, +Aggie McGee, to help and be company. Mrs. Janney never went there, but +now and then Suzanne did, generally on a quest for some needed garment, +so that her presence in the house was in no way remarkable. +</p> + +<p> +The appointment was for two and, after telling Aggie McGee that a +gentleman would call and to show him into the reception room, she +retired to the long Louis Quinze salon and threw herself on a sofa. She +was a little scared at what she had planned but she did not let her +uneasiness interfere with her intention, for, her mind once set on a +goal, she was as determined as her mother. Stretched comfortably on the +sofa, her glance traveling over the covered walls, the chandelier, a +misshapen bulging whiteness below the frescoed ceiling, she carefully +thought out what she would say to Mr. Larkin. +</p> + +<p> +A ring of the bell brought her to a sitting position, her hands pushing +in loosened hairpins. She waited listening, heard the opening and +closing of doors and then Aggie McGee's head appeared between the +shrouded portières and announced, "The gentleman to see you, ma'am." +</p> + +<p> +Her first impression of him was as a tall, broad-shouldered shape, +detailless against the light of the window. Then, as she sunk into a +chair, motioning him to one opposite, a nearer view showed him as a +fine-looking man, on to forty, with a fresh-colored, rounded face, its +expression smilingly good-humored. After the unkempt and slouchy +detectives she had seen at Grasslands his appearance, natty, smart, +almost that of a man of fashion, surprised and pleased her. She had an +instinctive distaste for all ungroomed and ill-dressed people and seeing +him so like the members of her own world, she felt a rising confidence +and reassurance. Also his manners were good, respectful, businesslike. +The one thing about him that suggested the wily sleuth were his eyes, +very light colored in his ruddy face, small, shrewd and piercing. +</p> + +<p> +He came to the matter of the moment without any preamble. Yes, he knew +of the robbery and knew who she was; he supposed she had called him up +to consult him about the case. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course, Mr. Larkin," she said, "that's what I wanted. But before I +say anything it must be understood between us that this—er—sending for +you—is entirely my affair. I want to employ you myself independently of +the others." +</p> + +<p> +He nodded, showing no surprise; +</p> + +<p> +"You want to put your own detective on the case." +</p> + +<p> +"Exactly. You're to be employed by me but no one must know you are or +know what you're doing." +</p> + +<p> +He smothered a smile and said: +</p> + +<p> +"I see." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't think the men that are working over it now are very clever or +interested. They just poke about and ask the same questions over and +over. The way they're going I should say we'd never get anything back. +So I decided I'd start an inquiry of my own and in a direction no one +else had thought of." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Larkin gave a slight movement an almost imperceptible straightening +up of his body: +</p> + +<p> +"Do you mean that you suspect some one?" +</p> + +<p> +Suzanne looked at the arm of her chair and then smoothed its linen cover +with delicate finger tips. A very slight color deepened the artificial +rose of her cheek. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm afraid I do," she murmured. +</p> + +<p> +"Afraid?" +</p> + +<p> +She nodded, closing her eyes with the movement. She had the appearance +of a person distressed but resolute. +</p> + +<p> +"I can't help suspecting some one that I don't like to suspect. And +that's why I want your assistance." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't quite understand, Mrs. Price." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>This</i> is the explanation. If it were known that this person was guilty +it would ruin and destroy them. My idea is to be sure that they did +it—have evidence—and then tell my mother. We could keep quiet about +it, get the jewels back and not have the thief disgraced and sent to +jail." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I see. You want to face the party with a knowledge of their guilt, +have them restore the jewels, and let the matter drop." +</p> + +<p> +"Precisely. And I don't want to say anything until I'm sure, can come +out with everything all clear and proved. That's <i>where</i> I expect you to +help, put things together, find out, work up the case." +</p> + +<p> +"Who is the person?" +</p> + +<p> +Her color burned to a deep flush; she leaned toward him, urgent, almost +pleading: +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Larkin, I hardly like to say it even to you, but I must. It's my +mother's secretary, Miss Maitland." +</p> + +<p> +He looked stolidly unmoved: +</p> + +<p> +"She lives in the house?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, for over a year now. My mother thinks everything of her, wouldn't +believe it unless it was proved past a doubt." +</p> + +<p> +"What are your reasons for suspecting her?" +</p> + +<p> +Suzanne was silent for a moment moving her glance from him to the +window. Mr. Larkin had a good chance to look at her and took it. He +noticed the feverish color, the line between the brows, the tightened +muscles under the thin cheeks. He made a mental note of the fact that +she was agitated. +</p> + +<p> +"Well that night, the night of July the seventh," she said in a low +voice, "I was wakeful. I often am, I've always been a nervous, restless +sort of person. About half past one I thought I heard a noise—some one +on the stairs—and I got up and looked out of my door. I can see the +head of the stairs from there, and as it was very bright moonlight any +one coming up would be perfectly plain—I couldn't make a mistake—what +I saw was Miss Maitland. She was going very carefully, tiptoeing along +as if she was trying to make no noise. At the top she turned and went +down the passage to her own room which is just beyond my mother's." +</p> + +<p> +She paused and shot a tentative look at him. He met it, teetered his +head in quiet comprehension and murmured: +</p> + +<p> +"She didn't see you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh no, she was not looking that way. And I didn't say anything or think +anything then—thought she'd gone downstairs for something she'd +forgotten. The next day it had passed out of my mind; it wasn't until I +heard that the jewels were gone that it came back and then I was too +shocked to say a word. It all came upon me in a minute—I remembered how +I'd seen her and remembered that she knew the combination of the safe." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh," said Mr. Larkin, "she knew that, did she?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, she keeps her account books and money in there, things she uses in +her work. You see she's been thoroughly trusted—never looked upon as +anything but perfectly honest and reliable." +</p> + +<p> +"Then she's filled her position to Mrs. Janney's satisfaction?" +</p> + +<p> +"Entirely. Of course we really don't know very much about her. She was +highly recommended when she came, but people in her position if they do +their work well—one doesn't bother much about them." +</p> + +<p> +"Have you noticed anything in her conduct or manner of life lately that +could—er—have any connection with or throw any light on such an +action?" +</p> + +<p> +Suzanne pondered for a moment then said: +</p> + +<p> +"No—she's always been about the same. She's gone into the city more +this summer than she did last year, on her holidays, I mean. And—oh +yes, this may be important—that night, when we came home from dinner, +she asked my mother if she could have the following day—Saturday—in +town. Mrs. Janney said she might and she went in before any of the +family were up." +</p> + +<p> +"Um," murmured Mr. Larkin and then fell into a silence in which he +appeared to be digesting this last item. When he spoke again it was to +propound a question that ruffled Suzanne's composure and caused her blue +eyes to give out a sudden spark: +</p> + +<p> +"Do you happen to know if she has any admirer—lover or fiancé or +anything of that sort?" +</p> + +<p> +"I know nothing whatever about it, but I should say <i>not</i>. Certainly I +never heard of such a person. I never saw any man in the least +attracted by her and I should imagine she was a girl who had no charm +for the other sex." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Larkin stirred in a slow, large way and said: +</p> + +<p> +"Such a robbery is a pretty big thing for a girl like that to attempt. +She must know—any one would—that jewels like Mrs. Janney's are hard to +dispose of without detection." +</p> + +<p> +Suzanne shrugged, her tone showing an edge of irritation: +</p> + +<p> +"That may be the case, I suppose it is. But couldn't she have been +employed by some one—aren't there gangs who put people on the spot to +rob for them?" +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly there are. And that would be the most plausible explanation. +Not necessarily a gang, however, an individual might be behind her. At +this stage, knowing what I do, that would be my idea. But, of course, I +can say nothing until I'm better informed. What I'll do now will be to +look up her record and then I think I'll take a run down to Berkeley and +see if I can pick up anything there." +</p> + +<p> +Suzanne looked uneasy: +</p> + +<p> +"But you'll be careful, and not let any one guess what you're doing or +that you have any business with me?" +</p> + +<p> +He smiled openly at that: +</p> + +<p> +"Mrs. Price, you can trust me. This is not my first case." +</p> + +<p> +After that there was talk of financial arrangements and future plans. +Mr. Larkin thought he would come out to Berkeley in a day or two and +take a lodging in the village. When he had anything of moment to impart +he would drop a note to Mrs. Price and she could designate a rendezvous. +They parted amicably, Suzanne feeling that she had found the right man +and Mr. Larkin secretly elated, for this was the first case of real +magnitude that had come his way. +</p> + +<p> +At the appointed time Suzanne met Mrs. Janney at the tea room and on the +way home they exchanged their news. The nursery governess had been +found, approved and engaged, and the oculist had said to go on with the +lotion and if Bébita's eyes did not improve to bring her in to see him. +Both ladies agreed that their labors had exhausted them, but each looked +unusually vivacious and mettlesome. +</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-viiimolly-s-story"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id10">CHAPTER VIII—MOLLY'S STORY</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">I've been asked to tell the part of this story in which I figure. I've +done that kind of work before, so I'm not as shy as I was that first +time, and since then I've studied some, and come up against fine people, +and I'm older—twenty-seven on my last birthday. But as I said then, so +I'll say now—don't expect any stylish writing from me. At the +switchboard there's still ginger in me, but with the pen I'm one of the +"also rans." +</p> + +<p> +Fortunately for me, I was always a good one to throw a bluff and, having +made a few excursions into the halls of the rich and great, I felt I +could be safely featured as a nursery governess. She belongs in the +layer between the top and bottom and doesn't mix with either. I wouldn't +have to play down to the kitchen standards or up to the parlor ones, +just move along, sort of lonesome, in the neutral ground between. As for +teaching the child, I knew I could do that as well as the girls who are +marking time until they marry, or the decayed ladies who employ their +declining years and intellects that way. +</p> + +<p> +It didn't seem to me hard to size up the family. Mrs. Janney was the +head of it, the middle and both ends—a real queen who didn't need a +crown or a throne to make people bow the knee. Mr. Janney was a good, +kind old gentleman who was too law-abiding to get rich any way but the +way he did. Mrs. Price wasn't up to their measure—an only child, born +with a silver lining. She was one of those slimpsy, thin women that a +man would be afraid to hug for fear she'd crack in his arms or snap in +the middle. She was very cordial and pleasant to me and I will say she +was fond of her little girl. +</p> + +<p> +When I came to the servants I couldn't see but what every one of them +registered honesty. If it had been printed on their foreheads with a +rubber stamp it couldn't have been plainer. There were only two new ones +in the outfit—girls, one of them my chambermaid—and no one, not even a +sleuth desperate for glory, could have considered them. Outside there +were gardeners and chauffeurs—in all there were twenty-one people +employed—but it was the same with them. They were a decent, well-paid +lot, the garage men and head gardener living on the place, the laborers +lodged in the village. +</p> + +<p> +The one person my eye lingered on was Miss Maitland the Secretary. Not +that there was anything suspicious about her, but that she wasn't as +simple and easy to see into as the others. She was a handsome girl, +tall and well made, sticking close to her job and not having much to do +with any one. Her study was just under the day nursery where we had +lessons and had its own door on to the piazza. When she wasn't at work, +she'd either sit there reading or go off walking by herself and there +was something solitary and serious about her that interested me. The +nursery window was a good look-out, commanding the lawns and garden and +with the tennis court to one side. After lessons I'd let the blinds down +and coil up there on a cushion, and I saw her several times coming in +and going out, always alone, and always looking thoughtful and +depressed. +</p> + +<p> +To get any information about her I had to be very careful for Mrs. +Janney thought the world of her, but I managed to worm out some facts, +though nothing of any importance. She had come to Mrs. Janney from a +friend who had had her as secretary for two years. She was entirely +dependent on her work for her living, was an orphan, and had no +followers. The only thing the least degree out of line was that several +times during the spring and the early summer she had asked for more days +and afternoons off than formerly. Mrs. Janney didn't seem to think +anything of this and I didn't either. The girl—settled down in her +place and knowing it secure—was slackening up on her first speed. +</p> + +<p> +There were a lot of people coming and going in the house—oftenest, Mr. +Richard Ferguson. I'd heard of him—everybody has—millions, unmarried, +and so forth and so on. I hadn't been there thirty-six hours before I +saw that Mrs. Price had an eye for him. That's putting it in a +considerate, refined way. If I was the cat some women are, I'd say she +was camped on his trail, with her lassoo ready in her hand. Of course +she'd work it the way ladies do, very genteel, pretend to be lazy if he +wanted to play tennis and when he was off for a swim wonder if she had +the energy to walk to the beach. But she always got there; every time, +rain or shine, she'd be awake at the switch. I didn't know whether he +responded—you couldn't tell. He was the kind who was jolly and affable +to everybody; even if he was a plutocrat you had to like him. +</p> + +<p> +I had a good deal of time to myself—lessons only lasted two hours—and +I roamed round the neighborhood studying it. The second afternoon I went +into the woods, where there's a short-cut that goes past Council Oaks to +the beach. Off the path, branching to the right, I found two smaller +trails both leading to the same place—a pond, surrounded by trees, and +with a wharf, a rustic bench, and two bathing houses, where the trails +ended. In my room that evening I asked Ellen, my chambermaid, about the +pond and she told me it was called Little Fresh and that the bathing +houses and wharf had been built by the former owner of Grasslands. But +the first year of Mrs. Janney's occupation a boy from the village had +been drowned there, since when Mrs. Janney had forbidden any one to go +near or bathe in Little Fresh. She had put up trespassing signs and +locked the bath houses, and no one ever went there now, because, anyway +if you didn't go in and get drowned, folks said you might catch malaria. +</p> + +<p> +A few days after that Bébita asked me to go into the woods with her and +look for lady-slippers; the kitchen maid had found two and Bébita had to +see if there weren't any left for her. Everybody said it was too late +for them, but that didn't faze Bébita who had the kitchen maid's word +for it and was set upon going. +</p> + +<p> +The woods were lovely, all green and shimmery with sunlight. We took the +trail I've spoken of, I strolling along the path, and Bébita hunting +about in the underbrush for the flowers. I was some little distance +ahead of her when I saw a figure moving behind the screen of trees +toward the right. I could only catch it in broken bits through the +leaves, hear the footsteps soft on the moss, and I didn't know whether +it was a man or a woman. Then it came into view, out of the trail that +led to Little Fresh Pond, and I saw it was a man, who stopped short at +the sight of me. +</p> + +<p> +He was good-looking, the dark kind, naturally brown, and sunburned on +top of it until he was as swarthy as an Indian, the little mustache on +his upper lip as black as if it was painted on with ink. Now I'm not one +that thinks men ought to be stunned by my beauty, but also I don't +expect to be stared at as if the sight of me was an unpleasant shock. +And that's the way that piratical guy acted, standing rooted, glaring +angry from under his eyebrows. +</p> + +<p> +I was going to pass on haughty, when Bébita's voice came from behind in +a joyful cry of "Popsy." She rushed by me, her arms spread out, and +fairly jumped at him. The ugly look went from his face as if you'd wiped +it off with a sponge, and the one that took its place made him another +man. He caught her up and held her against him, and she locked her feet +behind his waist and her hands behind his neck swinging off from him and +laughing out: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Popsy, I was looking for lady-slippers and I found <i>you</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"Well," he said, gazing at her like he couldn't look enough, "would you +rather have found a lady-slipper?" +</p> + +<p> +She hugged up against him, awful sweet and cunning. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Popsy, that's a joke. I like you better than all the lady-slippers +in the world. Where have you been?" +</p> + +<p> +"Over on the bluff, calling on some people. I'm taking a short cut +through the woods." +</p> + +<p> +"Where are you going now?" +</p> + +<p> +"To Cedar Brook. My car's out there on the road at the end of the path." +</p> + +<p> +I knew Bébita had been told not to speak of her father. I'd heard it +from Annie and Mrs. Janney had cautioned me, if she asked any questions, +to say that he had gone away and was not coming back. Children are +queer, take in more than you think, and I believe the little thing felt +something of the tragedy of it. Anyway she said nothing more on that +subject, but loosing one hand, waved it at me. +</p> + +<p> +"That's my new governess, Miss Rogers. I'm studying lessons with her." +</p> + +<p> +He looked at me, and having no free hand, just nodded. Though his +expression wasn't as unfriendly as it had been, it didn't suggest any +desire to know me better. He turned back to Bébita. +</p> + +<p> +"Dearie, you'll have to let go for I must jog along. I've a date to play +tennis at Cedar Brook and I'm late now." +</p> + +<p> +He kissed her and she loosened her hold sliding through his arms to the +ground. Then with a few last words of good-by he swung off down the +path. Bébita looked after him till the trees hid him, gave a sigh, and +without a word pushed her little hand into mine and walked along beside +me. She seemed sobered for a while, then picked up heart, began to look +about her, and was soon back at her hunt for the flowers. +</p> + +<p> +I was nearing the second path to Little Fresh, when again I saw a figure +coming behind the trees. This time it showed in a moving pattern of +lilac and the sight made me brisk up for I'd seen Miss Maitland that +morning in a lilac linen dress. I quickened my step until I came to a +turning from which I could look up the branch trail, and sure enough, +there she was, walking very lightly and spying out ahead. At the sight +of me she too stopped and looked annoyed. But women are a good deal +quicker than men—in a minute the look was gone and she was all smiles +of welcome. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Miss Rogers, and Bébita too! How nice to meet you. Are you going to +the beach?" +</p> + +<p> +Bébita explained our quest and said she was going to give it up—there +wasn't a single lady-slipper left. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Maitland's smile was kind and consoling: +</p> + +<p> +"I could have told you that. They're gone for this year." +</p> + +<p> +"Have <i>you</i> been looking for them?" Bébita asked. +</p> + +<p> +No, Miss Maitland had been to the beach for a bath, and as the closed +season for lady-slippers had begun, we turned back, Bébita and the +Secretary in front, I meekly following. In answer to the child's +questions Miss Maitland said she had taken a long swim, out beyond the +raft. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly Bébita popped out with: +</p> + +<p> +"Did you see my Daddy?" +</p> + +<p> +There was a slight pause before she answered; when she did her voice was +full of surprise: +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Price! Was he on the beach?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, in the woods. We met him. He was taking a short cut." +</p> + +<p> +Miss Maitland said she hadn't seen him, that he must have been some +distance in front of her, and changed the subject. +</p> + +<p> +While they were talking I was thinking and absently looking at her back. +They'd both come out of the branch trails that led to Little Fresh; they +had taken different paths and not come at the same time; they had each +got a jar when they saw me. As I thought, my eyes went wandering over +her back and finally stopped at the nape of her neck. The hair was drawn +up from it and hidden under her hat. I could see the roots and the +little curly locks that drooped down against the white skin. And +suddenly I noticed something—they were perfectly dry, not a damp spot, +not a wet hair. The best bathing cap in the world couldn't keep the +water out like that. She had not been bathing at all, she had been with +Chapman Price at Little Fresh Pond. And they wanted no one to know; were +sufficiently anxious to lie about it. +</p> + +<p> +The next day in a conference with Mrs. Janney, I asked her if Mr. Price +had ever shown any interest in Miss Maitland. She was amazed, as shocked +as if I'd asked if Mr. Janney had ever been in love with the cook. +Chapman Price had taken no more notice of Miss Maitland than common +politeness demanded, in fact, she thought that of late he had rather +shunned her. She was curious to know why I asked such a question, and +when I said I had to ask any and every sort of question or she'd be +paying a detective's salary to a nursery governess, she saw the sense of +it and quieted down. +</p> + +<p> +That was more than I did. The way things were opening up, I was getting +that small, inner thrill, that feeling like your nerves are tingling +that comes to me when the darkness begins to break. I didn't see much, +just the first, faint glimmer, but it was the right kind. +</p> + +<p> +Two days later a thing happened that changed the glimmer to a wide +bright ray. It was this way: +</p> + +<p> +In the afternoon the family, unless they had a party of their own, were +always out. The only person who stayed around was Miss Maitland, +sometimes working over her books, sometimes sitting about sewing or +reading. That day—about four—I'd seen her as I passed the study window +writing at her desk. I'd gone on into the big central hall where I +wasn't supposed to belong, but feeling safe with everybody scattered, I +thought I'd make myself comfortable and take a look at the morning +papers. I'd just cuddled down in the corner of the sofa with my favorite +daily when I heard the telephone ring. +</p> + +<p> +Now the bell of the telephone is to me like the trumpet to the old war +horse. And hearing it that way, tingling in the quiet of the big, +deserted house, I got a flash that any one wanting to talk to Miss +Maitland and knowing the habits of the family would choose that hour. +There was a 'phone in the lower story—in a closet at the end of the +hall—and the extension one was upstairs in a sort of curtained recess +off the main corridor just outside my door. I rose off the sofa as if +lifted by a charge of dynamite and slid for the stairs. As I sprinted up +I heard the door of Miss Maitland's study open. +</p> + +<p> +The upper hall was deserted and I dashed noiseless into that alcove +place, one hand lifting off the receiver as soft as a feather, the other +pressed against my mouth to smother the sound of my breathing. On the +floor below Esther Maitland had just connected; I got her first +sentence, quiet and clear as if she was in the room with me: +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. This is Grasslands." +</p> + +<p> +A man's voice answered: +</p> + +<p> +"That you, Esther?" +</p> + +<p> +I could tell she recognized it, for instantly hers changed, showed fear +and a sort of pleading: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, why do you call me up here? I told you not to." +</p> + +<p> +"My dear girl, it's all right—I know they're all out at this hour." +</p> + +<p> +"The servants—I'm afraid of them—and there's a new nursery governess +come." +</p> + +<p> +"I know. I met her in the woods that day. Did you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Of course I did. How could I help it? I said I'd been bathing. We +mustn't go there again—it's much better to write." +</p> + +<p> +The man gave a laugh that was good-humored and easy: +</p> + +<p> +"Don't take it so hard. There's not the slightest need to be worried. I +called you up to say everything was O. K." +</p> + +<p> +Her answer came with a deep, sighing breath: +</p> + +<p> +"It may be now—but how can we tell? The first excitement's dying down +but that doesn't mean they're not doing anything. Don't think for a +moment, because it's worked right so far, that we're out of the woods." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm wise to all that, I know them better than you do. And the fellow +that knows has got it all over the fellow that doesn't. Watchful +waiting—that's our motto." +</p> + +<p> +"Very well, then <i>let</i> it be watchful. And don't call me up unless it's +urgent. I can see you in town when I go in. I won't talk any more. +Good-by." +</p> + +<p> +I heard the stillness of a dead wire and then before I let myself think, +flew into my room, found a pad and pencil and wrote it down word for +word. +</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-ixgood-hunting-in-berkeley"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id11">CHAPTER IX—GOOD HUNTING IN BERKELEY</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">Two days after his interview with Suzanne, Mr. Larkin came to Berkeley +and took a room at the Berkeley Arms. He registered as Henry Childs, and +described himself to the clerk as a plumber, who, having had a +prosperous year, was looking for a bit of land upon which to build a +bungalow. +</p> + +<p> +Berkeley was much too exclusive to permit a hotel within its exclusive +limits and the Berkeley Arms was allowed to exist in a small, subdued +way as a convenience. It was an unassuming, gray-shingled building, +withdrawn behind a lilac hedge, and too near the station to mar the +smart and shining elegance of the main street. In it dwelt the +shop-keepers who plied a temporary summer trade in the village, and the +chauffeurs of the less wealthy cottagers. Here the detective heard much +talk of the Janney robbery, and, after he had extended his field of +observation to the post-office lobby and Bennett's drug store, Berkeley +had no secrets from him. +</p> + +<p> +The public mind was still occupied with all that pertained to +Grasslands. He heard of the separation of the Prices, the scene <i>he</i> had +made on leaving, and that <i>she</i> hadn't treated him right. Berkeley was +on Chapman's side, said she wanted to get rid of him to marry Ferguson. +It was hoped that Ferguson—highly esteemed—wasn't going to fall for +it; but you couldn't tell, the best men made mistakes. Gossips, who +professed an intimacy with the Grasslands kitchens, hinted that Ferguson +was "taken with" the secretary. But Berkeley, fattened by prosperity to +a gross snobbishness, rejected the idea as vulgar and unfitting. +</p> + +<p> +All this had its value for Mr. Larkin, but it was by accident that he +acquired the most illuminating piece of intelligence. Late one afternoon +he wandered forth into a road that threaded the woods near Grasslands. +The day being warm, the way dusty, he seated himself on a rock to cool +off and ponder. While there, concealed by the surrounding trees, he had +seen two small boys padding toward him down the road, their heads +together in animated debate. Unaware of his presence their voices were +loud and his listening ear caught interesting matter. They had been in +the forbidden area of Grasslands, had gone to Little Fresh for a bathe, +and had almost been caught in the act by a lady and gentleman. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Larkin made his presence known, and a dime passed into each grubby +palm won their confidence. +</p> + +<p> +They were on the wharf slipping off their clothes when they heard +footsteps and had only time to rush to cover in the underbrush when Mr. +Chapman Price appeared. He waited round a bit and then Miss Maitland +came and they sat on the bench and talked. The boys had not been able to +hear what they said, but that it was serious they gathered from Mr. +Price's manner and the fact that Miss Maitland had cried for a spell. +Mr. Price went away first, and as he was going he said loud, standing in +the path, "Take the upper trail and if you meet anybody say you've been +at the beach bathing." Then he'd gone and Miss Maitland had waited a +while, and then she'd gone too, by the upper trail, the way he'd said. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Larkin had been very sympathetic and friendly, swore he'd keep his +mouth shut, and cautioned the boys to do the same, for he'd heard that +Mrs. Janney wouldn't stand for any one bathing in Little Fresh and you +couldn't tell but what she might have them arrested. +</p> + +<p> +The next day he had a meeting with Suzanne in a summer-house on the +Setons' grounds, the Setons being in California for the season. He gave +his report of Miss Maitland's career—entirely worthy and +respectable—and then asked the question Molly had asked Mrs. Janney: +had Mr. Price ever exhibited any special interest in the secretary? Mrs. +Price's surprise and denial were as genuine and emphatic as her +mother's had been and Mr. Larkin arrived at the same conclusion as +Molly—here started the path that led to the heart of the maze. +</p> + +<p> +He did not say this to Mrs. Price. What he did say was that he would +leave Berkeley shortly and when he had anything of importance to tell +make an appointment with her by letter. It was not necessary to inform +her that his next move would be to Cedar Brook where he had heard that +Chapman Price spent a good deal of his time. +</p> + +<p> +Cedar Brook, six miles above Berkeley on the main line, had none of the +prestige of its aristocratic neighbor. It was in the process of +development, new houses rising round its outskirts, fields being turned +into lawns. Mr. Larkin took a room in a clapboarded cottage which stared +at other clapboarded cottages through the foliage of locust trees. +Announcing his intention of buying a piece of land, he was soon an +object of general attention and added to his store of knowledge. He +heard a good deal of Chapman Price, who was there off and on with the +Hartleys, and of his man Willitts. It was understood that Willitts was +staying with Price till he got a job, and, as the Hartley house was +small, lodged in the village; in fact, Mr. Larkin learned to his +satisfaction, was living in one of the clapboarded cottages close to his +own. +</p> + +<p> +Professing a desire to study the environs of Cedar Brook he hired a +wheel, and the third afternoon of his stay peddled out into the country. +It was while passing the private hedge of a large estate, that he came +upon a young man engaged over a disabled bicycle. +</p> + +<p> +The day was warm, the salt air of the Sound shut out by forest and hill, +the road bathed in a hot glow of sun. The man had taken off his coat, +and, as Mr. Larkin drew near, looked up displaying a smooth-shaven, rosy +face, beaded with perspiration. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Larkin, being by nature and profession curious, drew up and made +friendly inquiries. The man answered them, explained the nature of the +damage, his speech marked by the crisp, clipped enunciation of the +Briton. His costume—negligée shirt, knickerbockers and golf +stockings—did not suggest the country house guest, nor was his accent +quite that of the English gentleman. The detective, who had some +knowledge of these delicate distinctions, laid his bicycle against the +bank and proffered his assistance. Together they repaired the stranger's +wheel, and, when it was done, rested from their labors in the shade of +the hedge, and engaged in conversation. This at first was of the +war—the young man explaining that he was English and had volunteered at +once, but been rejected on the ground of his eyes—very near-sighted, +couldn't read the chart at all—touching with an indicating finger the +glasses that spanned his nose. After that he'd come to America; he could +make good money then and had people dependent on him. At this stage Mr. +Larkin asked his profession and learned that he was a valet, by name +James Willitts, just now looking for a place. He <i>had</i> been in the +employ of Mr. Chapman Price and was still staying with him until he got +a new "situation." Mr. Larkin in return recited his little lay about the +plumbing business and the bungalow, and, the introductions accomplished, +they passed to more general topics and soon reached the Janney robbery. +</p> + +<p> +It was a propitious meeting for the detective, for Willitts proved +himself a free and expansive talker. He launched forth into the subject +with an artless zest, not needing any prompting from his attentive +listener. Mr. Larkin was grateful for it all, but especially so for an +account of the movements of Mr. Price the day before the robbery. He had +sent his valet to Cedar Brook on the morning train, he to follow later +in the afternoon. Willitts, after the unpacking and settling was done, +had biked over to Grasslands to see "the help," and then made the +engagement to meet them that night at the movies. Of course he had to go +back, as part of his work was to lay out Mr. Price's dinner clothes and +help him dress, and it was most unfortunate, because, when he went up to +Mr. Price's room, Mr. Price said he wouldn't change, would keep on the +clothes he had and go motoring. +</p> + +<p> +"Motoring," observed Mr. Larkin, mildly interested, "did he motor in the +evening?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not usually—but I don't know if you remember that night. After a heavy +rain it cleared and the moon came out as bright as day." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Larkin didn't remember himself but he had a vague recollection of +having read it in some of the papers. +</p> + +<p> +"It was a wonderful night, and if it hadn't been I'd never have kept my +date. For I got side-tracked—had to fetch the doctor for my landlady's +little girl who was taken bad with the croup. And what with that and the +long distance I'd have given it up if it hadn't been for the moon." +</p> + +<p> +The detective did not find these details particularly pertinent, and +edged nearer to vital matters: +</p> + +<p> +"Pretty unpleasant position for those two men, Dixon and Isaac. I was in +Berkeley before I came here and there was a lot of talk." +</p> + +<p> +The valet looked at him with sharp surprise: +</p> + +<p> +"But no suspicion rests on <i>them</i>, I'll be bound. I lived in that house +since last October and I'll swear that there's not an honester pair in +the whole country." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Larkin, as a stranger to the parties, had no need to display a +corresponding warmth, merely remarking that Berkeley was convinced of +their innocence. +</p> + +<p> +The young man appeased, felt in his coat for a pipe and drew a tobacco +pouch from his pocket. As he filled the bowl, his profile was presented +to the detective's vigilant eye, which dwelt thoughtfully on the neat +outline, almost handsome except that the chin receded slightly. A good +looking fellow, Mr. Larkin thought, and smart—somehow as the +conversation had progressed he was beginning to think him smarter than +he had at the start. +</p> + +<p> +"How about that Miss Maitland," he said, "the young lady secretary?" +</p> + +<p> +Willitts had the pipe in his mouth and was pressing the tobacco down +with his thumb. He spoke through closed teeth: +</p> + +<p> +"What about her?" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, what sort is she? You needn't tell me she's good looking, for I +saw her once in the post office and she's a peach." +</p> + +<p> +The valet leaned forward and felt in his coat pocket for matches. The +movement presented his face in full to Mr. Larkin's glance, and the +detective noticed that its bright alertness had diminished, that a +slight film of stolidity had formed over it like ice over a running +stream. The man had removed his pipe and held it in one hand while he +scrabbled round in his coat with the other. +</p> + +<p> +"She's a very fine young lady; nothing but good's ever been said of her +in <i>my</i> hearing. And very competent in her work—they say—and she would +be, or Mrs. Janney wouldn't keep her." +</p> + +<p> +He found the matches and, sitting upright, lit one and applied it to the +pipe bowl. The detective, with his eyes ready to swerve to the +landscape, hazarded a shot at the bull's-eye. +</p> + +<p> +"They were saying—or more hinting I guess you'd call it—that Mr. Price +was—er—getting to look her way too often." +</p> + +<p> +Willitts was very still. The watching eyes noticed that the flame of the +match burned steady over the pipe bowl; for a moment the valet's breath +was held. Then, without moving, his voice peculiarly quiet, he said: +</p> + +<p> +"Now I'd like to know who told you <i>that</i>?" +</p> + +<p> +The other gave a lazy laugh: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I can't tell—every kind of rumor was flying about. They were ready +to say anything." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, that's it. Say anything to get listened to and not care whose +character they were taking away." +</p> + +<p> +"Then there's nothing in it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Tommyrot!" he snorted out the word with intense irritation. "The silly +fools! Mr. Price is no more in love with her than I am. He's not that +kind; he's an honorable gentleman. And, believe me, the wrong's not all +on his side. It's not for me to tell tales of the family, but I will say +that there's not many men could have put up with what he did." +</p> + +<p> +His face was flushed, he was openly exasperated. Mr. Larkin remembered +what he had heard of the man's affection for the master, and his +thoughts formed into an unspoken sentence, "He knows something and won't +tell." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, well," he said cheerfully, "when a big thing happens there's +bound to be all sorts of scandal and surmise. People work off their +excitement that way; you can't muzzle 'em—" +</p> + +<p> +Willitts grunted a scornful assent and rose. It was time to go; Mr. +Price would be coming up from town that night and he would be on duty. +The detective, lifting his bicycle from the grass, casually inquired if +Mr. Price motored from the city. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, dear no. He keeps his car here in Sommers' garage—he needs it, +taking people about to see the country. He made a tidy bit of money here +last week." +</p> + +<p> +"Talking of money," said the other, "did you know that ten thousand +dollars' reward has been offered for those jewels?" +</p> + +<p> +Willitts, astride his wheel, stretched a feeling foot for the pedal: +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I saw it in the papers." +</p> + +<p> +"Easy money for somebody." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, but <i>is</i> there somebody beside the thief—or thieves—who knows? +<i>That's</i> the question." +</p> + +<p> +They pedaled back side by side talking amicably, mutually pleased to +find they were neighbors. On the outskirts of the village they parted +with promises for a speedy reunion, Willitts to go to the Hartleys, and +Mr. Larkin to Sommers' garage to ask the price of a flivver for an +excursion beyond the reach of his bicycle. +</p> + +<p> +When he arrived at the garage a large touring car, packed full of veiled +females, was drawn up at the entrance. The driver, with Sommers and his +assistant beside him, had opened the hood and the three of them were +peering into the inner depths with the anxious concentration of doctors +studying the anatomy of a patient. Mr. Larkin walked by them and went +into the garage. He cast a rapid look about him, over the lined-up +motors in the back, and then through the doorway into the small office. +The place was empty. With a stealthy glance at the party round the +touring car, he strolled in to where the time card rack hung on the +wall. He ran his eye down the list of names until he came to "Price" and +drew out the card. The second entry was dated July seventh and showed +that that night Price had taken out his car at eight-thirty and not +returned it until five minutes to two. +</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xmolly-s-story"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id12">CHAPTER X—MOLLY'S STORY</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">As soon as I had the notes of that 'phone message down I wrote a report +for the Whitney office—just an outline—and posted it myself in the +village. The answer with instructions came the following evening. The +next time Miss Maitland went into town I was to come with her. In the +concourse of the Pennsylvania station I'd see O'Malley (the Whitneys' +detective) and it would be my business to point her out to him. He was +to follow her and I to come to the office and make my full report. Say +nothing of what I'd heard to Mrs. Janney. +</p> + +<p> +That was Tuesday; Thursday was Miss Maitland's holiday and right along +she'd been going into town. Wednesday afternoon I heard her say she'd go +in as usual on the eight forty-five, tipped off the office by 'phone, +and told Mrs. Janney I'd need that day to make a report to Mr. +Whitney—a business formality that had to be observed. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Maitland and I went in together, looking very sociable on the +outside, and talking about the weather, the new style in skirts, how +flat Long Island was, and other such ladylike topics. Coming off the +train I stuck to her like a burr, was almost arm in arm going up the +stairs, and then in the concourse broke myself loose and faded away +toward the news stand. Right there, leaning against the magazine end, +I'd seen a large, fat, sloppy-looking man, with a tired panama hat back +from his forehead, and a masonic emblem on his watch chain. +</p> + +<p> +O'Malley was a first class worker in his line, and his appearance was +worth rubies. He'd a small-town, corner-grocery look that would have +fooled any one unless they'd a scent for a sleuth like a dog for a bone. +As I edged up near him, reaching out for a magazine, he cast a cold, +disdainful glance at me like the rube that's wise to the dangers of the +great city. I dragged a magazine out from behind his back and whispered, +"In the lavender dress and the white hat with the grapes round it." And +dreamy, as if his thoughts were back with mother on the farm, he heaved +himself up from the stand and took the trail. +</p> + +<p> +The Chief—that's my name for Mr. Whitney—and Mr. George were waiting +for me in the old man's office. Gee, it was great to be there again, +like times in the past when we'd meet together and thrash out the last +findings. Of course the Chief had to have his joke, holding me by the +shoulders and cocking his head to one side as he looked into my face: +</p> + +<p> +"My, my, Molly, but the country's put a bloom on you! What a pity it is +you're married or you might get one of those millionaires down there." +</p> + +<p> +And I couldn't help answering fresh—he just sort of dares you to it: +</p> + +<p> +"I won't say but what I might, Chief. But it's poor sport. Seeing what +they've got to choose from it would be a shame to take the money." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. George was impatient—he always gets bristly when things are +moving—and cut us off from our fooling when a sharp: +</p> + +<p> +"Come on, Molly, sit down and let's hear the whole of this." +</p> + +<p> +So I took up the white man's burden, told them all I'd seen and heard +and picked up, ending off with the full notes of the 'phone talk. Then I +laid the paper on the table and looked at them. The Chief was gazing +thoughtfully at the floor, and Mr. George's face was puckered with a +frown like he'd eaten a persimmon. +</p> + +<p> +"It's the queerest thing I ever heard in my life," he said. "Chapman and +that girl! Why, it's impossible. Are you sure the man on the 'phone +<i>was</i> Chapman?" +</p> + +<p> +"It must have been. He spoke of meeting me in the woods and Mr. Price is +the only man I ever met there." +</p> + +<p> +The Chief looked up, glowering at me from under his big eyebrows: +</p> + +<p> +"What's your opinion of this Maitland woman?" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I don't think there's anything wrong about her—I mean I'd never +get that impression from her general make-up. But before I tapped that +message, I did get a hunch that she was sort of abstracted and shut away +in herself. She'd lonesome habits and she'd look downhearted when she +thought no one saw her. I'd size her up roughly as some one who wasn't +easy in her mind." +</p> + +<p> +"Have you ever heard anything of her having any sort of affair or +friendship with Price?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not a hint of it. That's what made me sit up and take notice. Under +everybody's eye the way they were and yet not a soul suspecting +anything—you're not as secret as that for nothing." +</p> + +<p> +"While they were talking on the 'phone did you notice anything in their +voices—it certainly wasn't in the words—that suggested tenderness or +love?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, it was more as if they knew each other well. He sounded as if he +was trying to jolly her along, keep up her spirits; and she as if she +was scared, not at <i>him</i> but at what he might do." +</p> + +<p> +"They'd be careful," said Mr. George. "A man and a woman who were +involved in some dangerous scheme wouldn't coo at each other over the +wire like two turtle doves." +</p> + +<p> +"Love's hard to hide," said the old man, "betrays itself in small ways. +And Molly's got a fine, trained ear." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, it caught no love there, Chief. The only person at Grasslands +who's got that complaint is Mrs. Price. She's in love with Mr. +Ferguson." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. George was very much surprised. +</p> + +<p> +"The deuce you say!—Old Dick fallen at last." +</p> + +<p> +The Chief gave a sort of sarcastic grunt. +</p> + +<p> +"Ferguson can take care of himself. He's not as big a fool as he looks +or pretends to be. Now these extra holidays of Miss Maitland's you've +spoken of—how long has that been going on?" +</p> + +<p> +"Since April. Before that she never wanted time off and often spent her +Thursdays in the house. At Grasslands this summer she's gone into town +every Thursday and three times asked for extra days. The last was July +the eighth, the day after the robbery." +</p> + +<p> +"Umph!" muttered the old man. "I guess we'll know something about that +when we hear from O'Malley." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. George, slumped down in his chair, with his hands thrust in his +pockets, his chin pressed on his collar, said gloomily: +</p> + +<p> +"I confess I'm dazed. It's perfectly possible that Chapman, who didn't +like his wife, should have fallen in love with the girl, it's perfectly +natural that they should have kept it dark; but that he's joined with +her in a plan to steal Mrs. Janney's jewels!"—he shook his head +staring in front of him—"I can't get the focus. Price wouldn't qualify +for a Sunday school superintendent, but I can't seem to see him as a +gentleman burglar." +</p> + +<p> +"He was mad when he left," I said. "He made a sort of scene." +</p> + +<p> +"What's that?" growled the old man, looking up quick. +</p> + +<p> +"He got angry and threatened them. I don't know just in what way because +I've only caught it in bits and scraps. But Dixon heard him and told in +the village where I picked up an echo of it. He said they'd stolen his +child." +</p> + +<p> +"Sounds like him—an ugly temper. Try and get exactly what he said if +you can." +</p> + +<p> +We talked on a while, going back and forth over it like a lawn mower +over grass. Then a knock on the door stopped us; a boy put in his head +and announced: +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. O'Malley's outside and wants to see Mr. Whitney." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. George and I squared round in our chairs with our eyes glued on the +doorway. The Chief, slouched down comfortable with his shirt-bosom +bulging, looked like a sleepy old bear, but from under the jut of his +eyebrows his glance shone as keen as a razor. O'Malley entered, hot and +red, his panama in his hand, and that air about him I've seen before—a +suppressed triumph gleaming out through the cracks. +</p> + +<p> +"Well?" says Mr. George, curt and sharp. +</p> + +<p> +O'Malley took a chair and mopped his forehead: +</p> + +<p> +"There's no mistake she's got something up her sleeve. She took the +Seventh Avenue car and went downtown until she came to Jefferson Court +house, got out there, went a few blocks into the Greenwich Village +section and stopped at a house on a small sort of thoroughfare called +Gayle Street. I think she let herself in with a key, but I'm not sure. +The place is a shady-looking rookery, no porch or steps, door opening +right on the sidewalk, three windows to each floor, mansard roof. About +ten minutes after she went in, a man came down the street, walking +quick, hat low over his eyes—it was Mr. Chapman Price." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. George stirred and gave a mutter. The old man, stretching his hand +to the cigar box at his elbow, took out a large fat cigar and said: +</p> + +<p> +"Price, eh?—Go on." +</p> + +<p> +"I thought the lady'd used a key, and I saw plain that he did. The door +opened and he went in. I crossed over and looked at the bells. There +were nine of them, all with names underneath except the top floor ones. +These, the last three of the line, had no names, showing the top floor +was vacant. +</p> + +<p> +"There was a drug store right opposite and I went in, took a soda, and +asked the clerk about the locality—said I was looking for lodgings in +that section. I got him round to the house, where I heard I might get a +room cheap. He said maybe I could—being summer there'd be +vacancies—that the place was decent enough, but he'd heard pretty poor +and mean. Just as I got through talking to him and was leaving I saw the +door across the street open, and Mr. Price come out. He came quick, on +the slant, and was among the folks on the sidewalk before you could +notice. It was the way a man acts when he doesn't want to be seen. He +walked off toward Seventh Avenue, his head down, keeping close to the +houses. I didn't wait for Miss Maitland—thought I'd better come back +here and report." +</p> + +<p> +"Well!" said Mr. George. "I'm jiggered if I can make head or tail of +it." +</p> + +<p> +The Chief took the cigar out of his mouth and addressed O'Malley: +</p> + +<p> +"Find out Price's movements on the night of July seventh, everything he +did, everywhere he went." He turned to me. "And you want to remember not +a hint of this gets to Mrs. Janney. She hates Price and when her blood's +up she's a red Indian. We don't want the family drawn in until we know +something." +</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xiferguson-s-idea"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id13">CHAPTER XI—FERGUSON'S IDEA</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">During these days Dick Ferguson thought a good deal and said very +little. Like the rest of his world he wondered over the unsolved mystery +of the Janney robbery, but his wonderings contained an element of +discomfort. He heard the subject discussed everywhere and often the name +of Esther Maitland came up in the discussions. Not that any one ever +suggested she might be involved;—it was more a sympathetic appreciation +of her position. Every one spoke very feelingly about it:—poor girl, so +uncomfortable for her, knowing the combination and all that sort of +thing—the Janneys had stood by her splendidly, but still it <i>was</i> +trying. +</p> + +<p> +It tried <i>him</i> a good deal, made inroads on his temper, until it lost +its sunny evenness and he was sometimes short and surly. The day after +Molly and Esther went to town he had been called to a conference in the +Fairfax house on the bluff. A gang of motor boat thieves had been +operating along the Sound, had already stolen two launches, and the +owners of water-front property had convened to decide on a course. +Ferguson, with a small fleet to his credit, had taken rather a high +hand, and shown an unwonted irritation at the indecision of his +associates. If they wanted their boats protected it was up to them to do +it, establish a shore police patrol financed by themselves. That was +what he intended to do and they could join with him or not as they +pleased. He left them, ruffled by his brusqueness and remarking grumpily +that "Ferguson was beginning to feel his money." +</p> + +<p> +He went from the meeting to his own beach and on the way met Suzanne +returning with Bébita from the morning bath. They stopped for a chat in +the course of which Suzanne made a series of remarks not calculated to +soothe his perturbed spirit. They were apropos of Miss Maitland, who had +taken an early morning swim, all alone, refusing to wait and go in with +them. Suzanne said it was a pity Miss Maitland kept so much to +herself—the girl seemed depressed and out of spirits lately, didn't he +think so? Quite different to what she had been earlier in the season, +seemed to be troubled about something. Too bad—every one liked her so +much, and people <i>did</i> talk so. Then with an artless smile she went off +under her white parasol. +</p> + +<p> +There was no smile on Ferguson's face as he walked to his boat houses. +He told his men of the police patrol—to operate along the shore after +nightfall—gave a few gruff orders and disappeared into a bath house. +When he emerged, stripped for a swim, he stalked silently by them and +dove from the end of the wharf. They were surprised at his manner, +usually so genial, and wondered among themselves watching his head, +sleek as a wet seal's, receding over the shining water. +</p> + +<p> +The head was full of what Suzanne had said. Though he had offered no +agreement to her suggestions, he <i>had</i> noticed the change in Esther. He +had noticed it soon after the robbery, in fact before that, for it had +dated from the evening when she dined at his house, the night the jewels +were taken. Disturbance grew in him as he thought:—if so shallow a +creature as Suzanne could see it, others could. And Suzanne had no +sense, no realization of the weight of words. She might go round +chattering like a fool and get the girl talked about. It would be the +decent thing to give Esther a hint, put her wise to the fact that she +ought to brighten up—not give any one a chance to say she was not as +she had been. +</p> + +<p> +As his long, muscular body slid through the water he decided to go over +and have a talk with her. The decision cheered him, for to be with +Esther Maitland was the keenest pleasure he knew. +</p> + +<p> +Suzanne had told him she and her mother would be out that afternoon, so +at three—the hour they were to leave—he set out for Grasslands by the +wood path. As he crossed the garden his questing glance met an +encouraging sight—Esther Maitland sitting under a group of maples at +the end of the terrace. She was alone, an empty chair beside her, her +head bowed over a book. +</p> + +<p> +Her welcoming smile was very sweet; his eye noticed a faint color rise +in her cheeks as he came up. These signs were so agreeable that he would +like to have sat there, placidly enjoying her presence, but he was a +person who once possessed by an idea "had to get it out of his system." +This he proceeded to do, advancing on his subject with what he thought +was a crafty indirectness: +</p> + +<p> +"You know, Miss Maitland, you're not a credit to Long Island." +</p> + +<p> +She raised her brows, deprecating, also amused: +</p> + +<p> +"What have I done?" +</p> + +<p> +"It's what you haven't done. We expect people to come here worn and +weary and then blossom like the rose. You've gone back on the +tradition." +</p> + +<p> +She stretched a hand for a bundle of knitting—a soldier's muffler—on +the table beside her: +</p> + +<p> +"I don't feel worn or weary and I'm sorry I look so." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, you always <i>look</i> lovely," he hastily assured her. "I didn't mean +that it wasn't becoming. But—er—er—what I wanted to say was—er—why +is it?" +</p> + +<p> +Miss Maitland began to knit, her face bent over the work, her dark head +backed by the green distances of the lawn. Ferguson thought she had the +most beautifully shaped head he had ever seen. He would like to have +leaned back in his chair studying its classic outline. But he was there +for a purpose and he held himself sternly to it, looking at her profile +and trying to forget that it was as fine as her head. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know why it is," she answered, "but I do know that you're not +very complimentary." +</p> + +<p> +"If you give me a dare like that I'll show you how complimentary I <i>can</i> +be. But I'll put that off until later. What I think is that you're +worrying—that the robbery has got on your nerves." +</p> + +<p> +"Why should it get on my nerves?" +</p> + +<p> +He was aware of her eyes—diverted from the knitting—looking curiously +at him: +</p> + +<p> +"Why, it's been so—so—unpleasant, all this fuss and publicity. It's +been a shock." +</p> + +<p> +Her hands with the knitting dropped into her lap. She was now staring +fixedly at him: +</p> + +<p> +"Do you mean that I'm worrying because I think I may be suspected of +it?" +</p> + +<p> +He was shocked to angry repudiation. +</p> + +<p> +"Good Lord, no! What a thing to say!" +</p> + +<p> +She took up her work, and answered with cool composure: +</p> + +<p> +"Nevertheless I <i>have</i> wondered if anybody ever thought it. You see I'm +the only one in the house—the only one who knows the combination—who +<i>is</i> a sort of stranger. Dixon and Isaac are like members of the +family." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't talk such rubbish," he protested, then leaning nearer, "Have you +had <i>that</i> on your mind all this time? Is <i>that</i> what's made the +change?" +</p> + +<p> +She looked up at him, startled: +</p> + +<p> +"Change—what change?" +</p> + +<p> +"Change in you. Yes," in answer to the disturbed inquiry of her glance, +"there is one. I've noticed it; other people have." +</p> + +<p> +"What do you mean?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, you're different, you've lost your good spirits. You're not like +you were before this happened." +</p> + +<p> +Her response came with something combative in its countering quickness: +</p> + +<p> +"I'm busier than I used to be. Since the robbery I've taken over a good +deal of the housekeeping. Mrs. Janney has been much more upset than you +guess." +</p> + +<p> +"And you're so withdrawn, keep more to yourself. I used to find you +about when I came over; now I almost never see you." +</p> + +<p> +The interview had taken on the character of a verbal duel, he thrusting, +she parrying, both earnest and insistent. +</p> + +<p> +"I've just told you; I have more work, I've not the leisure I used to +have." +</p> + +<p> +"So busy you have to shun people?" +</p> + +<p> +"That's absurd, you imagine it. I've never shunned any one and there's +no reason why I should." +</p> + +<p> +"I agree with you but let me ask one more question. You say your work is +harder and you <i>do</i> look tired and worn out. Why don't you take a decent +rest on your holidays? Last year you spent them here, out of doors, +loafing about. Now you go to town. I've been over twice on Thursdays and +when I ask for you, always hear you're in the city. And you've been at +other times too—Mrs. Janney told me so. It's the most fatiguing thing +you can do in this hot weather. Why do you go?" +</p> + +<p> +He saw her color suddenly deepen. She had let the knitting drop to her +lap and now she took it up again and began to work, very fast, the +needles flashing in her white hands. She smiled as she answered: +</p> + +<p> +"You seem to have kept rather a sharp look-out on me, Mr. Ferguson. Did +it never occur to you that a woman <i>might</i> need clothes, or might want +to see a friend who happened to be staying in town for the summer?" +</p> + +<p> +The young man had been admiring the white hands. As she spoke something +in their movements caught and held his eye—they were trembling. He was +so surprised that he made no answer, his glance riveted on them trying +to hold the needles steady to their task. Miss Maitland made an effort +to go on, then dropped the knitting in a bunch on her knees and clasped +the hands over it. Neither speaking, their eyes met. The expression of +hers, furtively apprehensive like a scared child's pierced his heart and +he leaned toward her, his sunburned face full of concern: +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Maitland, what's wrong? Something is—tell me." +</p> + +<p> +Without answering she shook her head, her lips tightly compressed. He +could see that she was shaken, that the clasped hands on her knee were +clenched together to control their trembling. He could see that, for a +moment, taken unawares, she did not trust herself to speak. +</p> + +<p> +"Look here," he said, low and urgent, "be frank with me. I've seen for +some time something was troubling you—I told you so that night at my +place. Why not let me lend a hand? That's what I want to do—that's what +I'm <i>for</i>." +</p> + +<p> +She had found her voice and it came with a high, light hardness, in +curious contrast to the feeling in his: +</p> + +<p> +"You're all wrong, Mr. Ferguson. You're seeing what doesn't exist." She +started to her feet, making a grab at her knitting as it slid toward the +ground. "Oh, my needle! I almost pulled it out. That <i>would</i> have been a +calamity." She carefully pushed the stitches on to the needle as if her +whole interest lay in preserving the woven fabric. "There I've picked +them up, not lost one." Then she looked at them, smiling, her expression +showing a veiled defiance, "You ought to have been a novelist—your +imagination's wasted. Here you are seeing me as a distressed damsel, +while I'm only a perfectly normal, perfectly common-place person. +Romantic fiction would have been your line." +</p> + +<p> +She gave a laugh that brought the blood to the young man's face, for its +musical ripple contained a note of derision: +</p> + +<p> +"But for my sake please curb your fancy. Don't suggest to my employers +that I'm weighted down by a secret sorrow. They mightn't like a blighted +being for a secretary and I might lose my job, and then I really <i>would</i> +be worried." +</p> + +<p> +He stood it unflinching, only the dark flush betraying his +mortification. He assured her of his reticence and ended by asking her +pardon. She granted it, even thanked him for his concern in her behalf +and with a smile that was still mocking, said she had notes to write, +gathered up her work, and bade him good-by. +</p> + +<p> +Dick Ferguson walked back through the woods to Council Oaks. When the +first discomfort of the rebuff had passed he pondered deeply. He was +sure now beyond the peradventure of a doubt that Esther Maitland was in +trouble of some kind, and was ready to use all the weapons at her +command to keep him from finding it out. +</p> + +<p> +Two nights after that he dined at Grasslands. It was just a family +party, and, being such, Miss Maitland was present. She met him with the +subdued quietness that he was beginning to recognize as her "social +secretary manner"—the manner of the lady employee, politely colorless +and self-effacing. +</p> + +<p> +In the dining room, with its clustered lights along the walls, where +long windows framed the deep blue night, they looked a gay and goodly +party. To the unenlightened observer they might have stood for a typical +group of the care-free rich, waited on by obsequious menials, feeding +sumptuously in sumptuous surroundings. Yet each one of them was preyed +upon by secret anxieties. +</p> + +<p> +When the ladies withdrew Mr. Janney and Ferguson sat on smoking and +sipping their coffee. If every member of the party had his hidden +distress, Mr. Janney's was by no means the least. His problem was still +unsolved, still menacing. Kissam's suggestion and his own fond hope, +that the jewels would be restored had not been realized, and he was +contemplating the day when he would have to face Suzanne with his +knowledge. Damocles beneath the suspended sword was not more +uncomfortable than he. Any allusion to the robbery made his heart sink, +and, as the allusions were frequent, conversation had become a thing +harkened to with held breath and sick anticipation. +</p> + +<p> +Alone with Ferguson he was experiencing the usual qualms, but the young +man, instead of the customary questions, asked him his opinion of +Willitts, Chapman's valet, whom he thought of engaging. Mr. Janney +brightened up, told Dixon to bring some of his own especial cigars, and +relapsed into tranquillity. He could recommend Willitts highly, smart, +capable and honest, but he thought he'd heard Dick say he couldn't stand +a valet fussing about him. Dick had said it and was still of the same +mind, but most of his guests were men and he needed some one to look +after their clothes. They made a lot of bother, the servants had kicked, +and he'd thought of Willitts. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Janney could give no information as to Willitts' whereabouts, but +Dixon, entering with the cigar box and lamp, could. Willitts was at +Cedar Brook where Mr. Price spent a good deal of time; he was still +disengaged and looking for a position, if Mr. Ferguson would like Dixon +would get word to him. Mr. Ferguson would like, and, the box presented +at his elbow, he took out a cigar and held its tip to the lamp. Mr. +Janney forgot Willitts and drew his guest's attention to the cigar, a +special brand of rare excellence. +</p> + +<p> +"We keep them in the safe," said the old man. "Only place that's secure +against the damp. It was Chapman's idea—the one thing in my +acquaintance with Chapman I'm grateful for." +</p> + +<p> +It was an unfortunate remark, for Ferguson, leaning back in his chair +with the cigar between his lips, murmured dreamily: +</p> + +<p> +"The safe—do you know I've been thinking over things lately. I can't +understand one point. Why didn't the thief take those jewels when the +house was virtually empty instead of waiting until it was full?" +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Janney's heart took a dizzying, downward dive. He had been looking +forward to his smoke, now all his zest departed, his old, veined hand +shaking as it felt in the box. +</p> + +<p> +Ferguson went on: +</p> + +<p> +"The fellow may have come in early and hidden himself—not got down to +business until every one was asleep." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Janney emitted an agreeing murmur and motioned Dixon to hold the +lamp nearer. As he bent toward it the young man was silent and Mr. +Janney began to hope that the obnoxious subject was abandoned. He sent +a side glance at his guest and the hope was strengthened. Ferguson had +taken his cigar from his lips and was looking at the paper band that +encircled it. He was looking at it so intently that Mr. Janney felt sure +his interest was diverted and sought to drive it into safer channels. +</p> + +<p> +"Pretty fine cigar, eh?" he said. "This is the first of a new lot, just +come." +</p> + +<p> +Ferguson drew the band off and laid it beside his plate: +</p> + +<p> +"Excellent. That's a good idea—keeping them in the safe. Do you always +do it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, it's the only thing—much better than a humidor." +</p> + +<p> +"I haven't got a safe or I'd try it. Did you have any there the night of +the robbery?" +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Janney felt that the gods had sought him out for a special vengeance +and murmured drearily: +</p> + +<p> +"I believe so—a few. Dixon knows." +</p> + +<p> +Dixon who was on his way to the door turned: +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, sir, only one box, the last we had." +</p> + +<p> +Ferguson laughed: +</p> + +<p> +"If the thief had had time to try one he'd have taken the box along +too." +</p> + +<p> +Dixon, who treated all allusions to the subject with a tragical +seriousness, said: +</p> + +<p> +"I don't think he touched them, sir. The box looked just the same. Mr. +Kissam was very particular to ask about it, but I told him I thought +they was intact, as you might say. Though if it was the loss of one or +two I couldn't be certain." +</p> + +<p> +Dixon left the room and Mr. Janney looked dismally at his plate, having +no spirit to fight against fate. Ferguson, with a glance at his +down-drooped face, picked up the band and slipped it in his pocket. +</p> + +<p> +He did not stay long after dinner. As soon as his car came he left, +telling the chauffeur to hurry. At home he ran up the stairs to his +room, switched on the light over the bureau and opened the box with the +crystal lid. Under the studs and pins lay the band Esther had found the +night he walked with her through the woods. He compared it with the one +he took from his pocket and saw that they matched. The new one he threw +into the fireplace, but put the other back in the box—it was something +more than a souvenir. Then he sat down on the end of the sofa and +thought. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Janney could not have dropped it for he had driven both to and from +Council Oaks. Neither Dixon nor Isaac could have, for they had gone to +the village by the main road and come back the same way at midnight. He +had found it at half-past ten, untouched by the heavy shower, which had +lasted from about seven till half-past eight. Therefore, whoever had +thrown it there had passed that way between the time when the rain +stopped and the time when Esther had found it. It had been dropped +either by a man who had one of the cigars in his possession and had been +on the wood path between eight-thirty and ten-thirty, or by a man who +had taken a cigar from the safe between those hours. +</p> + +<p> +Ferguson sat staring at the wall with his brows knit. If it had not been +for the light his own gardener had seen he would have felt that he had +struck the right road. +</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xiithe-man-who-wouldn-t-tell"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id14">CHAPTER XII—THE MAN WHO WOULDN'T TELL</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">Mr. Larkin had lingered on at Cedar Brook. He said that he needed a +holiday, the prosperity of the last year had worn him out, also the +bungalow sites were many and a decision difficult. +</p> + +<p> +He saw a good deal of Willitts; they had become very friendly, almost +chums. Their lodgings were but a few yards apart and of evenings they +smoked neighborly pipes on the porch steps, and of afternoons took walks +into the country. During these hours their talk ranged over many +subjects, the valet proving himself a brightly loquacious companion. But +upon a subject that Mr. Larkin introduced with delicate +artfulness—Price and Esther Maitland—he maintained the evasive +reticence that had marked him at their first meeting. For all the walks +and talks Mr. Larkin learned no more, and as his curiosity remained +unsatisfied his inclination for Willitts' society increased. +</p> + +<p> +It was a few days after that first meeting that, strolling down Main +Street toward Sommers' garage, the detective stopped short, staring at +two figures emerging from the garage entrance. One was Sommers, the +other a fat, red-faced man with a sunburned Panama on the back of his +head. A glance at this man and Mr. Larkin turned on his heel and made +down a side lane at a swinging gait. Safe out of range behind a lilac +hedge, he slowed up, lifted his hat from a perspiring brow and swore to +himself, low and fiercely. He had recognized Gus O'Malley, private +detective of Whitney & Whitney, and he knew that Whitney & Whitney were +Mrs. Janney's lawyers. Another investigation was on foot, evidently +following on the lines of his own. +</p> + +<p> +After two days O'Malley left by the evening train and Mr. Larkin emerged +from a temporary retirement, and sought coolness and solitude on the +front porch. Here, when night had fallen, Willitts joined him taking a +seat on the top step. +</p> + +<p> +The house behind them was empty of all other tenants, its open front +door letting a long gush of light down the steps and across the pebbled +path to the gate. It was a warm night, heavy and breathless, and Mr. +Larkin, in his shirt sleeves, lolled comfortably, his chair tilted back, +his feet on the railing. The place where he sat was shaded with vines, +and he was discernible as a long, out-stretched bulk, detailless in the +shadow. +</p> + +<p> +Willitts had good news to impart; that afternoon he had been to Council +Oaks to see Mr. Ferguson who had engaged him as valet. It was an A1 +place, the pay high, the duties light, Mr. Ferguson known to be generous +and easy tempered. Congratulations were in order from Mr. Larkin, and if +they lacked in warmth Willitts did not appear to notice it. +</p> + +<p> +A pause fell, and his next remark caused the detective to deflect his +gaze from the darkling street to the head of the steps: +</p> + +<p> +"Did you notice a chap about here yesterday—a fat, untidy looking man +in a Panama hat and a brown sack suit?" +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Larkin had and wanted to know where Willitts had seen him. +</p> + +<p> +"In Sommers' garage. He was hiring a motor, wanted to see the +country—and Sommers telling him I knew it well, asked me to go with +him." +</p> + +<p> +"Did you go?" +</p> + +<p> +"I did; I had nothing else to do. We went a long way, through Berkeley +and beyond. He's what you'd call here 'some talker' and curious—I'd say +very curious if you asked me." +</p> + +<p> +"Curious about what?" +</p> + +<p> +"Everything in the neighborhood, but especially the robbery." +</p> + +<p> +"Did he have any theories about it?" +</p> + +<p> +"None that I hadn't heard before." +</p> + +<p> +The detective laughed: +</p> + +<p> +"That accounts for the drive—hoped he'd get some racy gossip about the +family out of you." +</p> + +<p> +"Maybe that <i>was</i> his idea." +</p> + +<p> +"Of course it was. I'll bet he pumped you about Price." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know that I'd call it pumping—he did ask some questions." +</p> + +<p> +Willitts was sitting with his elbows on his knees, his hands supporting +his chin. The light from the open door behind him lay over his back, +gilded the top of his smooth head and slanted across his cheek. He was +not smoking and he was very still, facts noted by Mr. Larkin. +</p> + +<p> +The detective stretched, yawned with a sleepy sound and said: +</p> + +<p> +"So it's still a subject of popular curiosity, is it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, <i>it</i> is, but why should Mr. Price be?" +</p> + +<p> +The valet's voice was low and quiet, holding a quality hard to define; +the listener decided it was less uneasiness than resentment. After a +moment's silence he spoke again, very softly, as if the words were +self-communings: +</p> + +<p> +"I'd like to know who the feller is." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Larkin's feet came down from the rail striking the floor with a +thud. He sat up and looked at his friend: +</p> + +<p> +"I can tell you. He's a detective, Gus O'Malley, employed by Whitney & +Whitney." +</p> + +<p> +Willitts' hands dropped and he squared round: +</p> + +<p> +"A detective! <i>That's</i> it, is it? <i>That</i> accounts for the milk in the +cocoanut. I might have guessed it. And what's he after me for?" +</p> + +<p> +"You lived at Grasslands. Something might be dug out of you." +</p> + +<p> +"But tell me, why should he be curious about Mr. Price?" +</p> + +<p> +He had dropped one hand on the flooring and supported by it leaned +forward toward his companion. The boyish good humor had gone from his +face; it looked sharp-set and pugnacious. +</p> + +<p> +The other shrugged: +</p> + +<p> +"Ask <i>him</i>. All I can tell you is that Whitney & Whitney are Mrs. +Janney's lawyers." +</p> + +<p> +Willitts pondered, and while he pondered his eyes stared past the +shadowy shape that was Mr. Larkin into the vine-draped blackness of the +porch. Then he said: +</p> + +<p> +"Mrs. Janney's down on Mr. Price. She's all for her daughter. I think +she 'ates 'im." +</p> + +<p> +The two h's dropped off with a simple unconsciousness that surprised Mr. +Larkin. Never before in his intercourse with Willitts had he heard the +letter so much as slighted. He made a mental note of it and said dryly: +</p> + +<p> +"So I've heard." +</p> + +<p> +The man again relapsed into thought, his glance riveted on the darkness, +his expression obviously perturbed. Suddenly he looked at the vague bulk +of Mr. Larkin and said sharply: +</p> + +<p> +"'Ow do <i>you</i> know so much about 'im?" +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Larkin's answer came out of the shadow with businesslike promptness: +</p> + +<p> +"Because I'm a detective myself." +</p> + +<p> +For a moment the valet's face seemed to set, lose its flesh and blood +mobility and harden into something stony, its lines fixed, vitality +suspended,—a vacuous, staring mask. Then life came back to it, broke +its iciness, and flooded it with a frank, almost ludicrous astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +"You—you!" he stammered out, "and me never so much as thinking it! +Would any one, I'm asking you? Would—" he stopped, his amazement gone, +a sudden belligerent fierceness taking its place, "And are you after Mr. +Price too?" +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Larkin laughed: +</p> + +<p> +"I'm after no one at this stage. I'm only assembling data. If O'Malley's +got to the point of finding a suspect he's far ahead of me." +</p> + +<p> +Willitts' excitement instantly subsided; his answer showed a hurried +urgence: +</p> + +<p> +"No, no—he didn't say anything one could take 'old of—only a few +questions. And it's maybe all in my feelings. I couldn't bear a person +to think evil of Mr. Price. It 'urts me; I'd be sensitive; I might see +it if it wasn't there." +</p> + +<p> +"If you got that impression I guess it <i>was</i> there." +</p> + +<p> +This remark, delivered with a sardonic dryness, appeared to rekindle +Willitts' anger. It flared up like the leap of a flame: +</p> + +<p> +"Then to 'ell with 'im. If they're working up any dirty suspicions +against my gentleman they've come to the wrong man. I've got nothing to +say; there's no information to be wormed out of <i>me</i> for I 'ave none. +Umph—lies, trickery—that's what <i>I</i> call it!" +</p> + +<p> +He dropped back into his former position, his angry breathings loud on +the silence, mutterings of rage breaking through them. +</p> + +<p> +"Well," said Mr. Larkin, "now I've put you wise you can form your own +conclusion as to what's in their minds." +</p> + +<p> +"Is it in yours, too?" +</p> + +<p> +The question came quick, shot out between the deep-drawn breaths. Mr. +Larkin was ready for it: +</p> + +<p> +"I told you I hadn't got as far as that; I'm just feeling my way. But +let me say something to you." He rose and, going to the steps, sat down +beside Willitts, dropping his voice to a confidential key. "I'll be +frank with you—I'll show you how I stand. I didn't intend to tell you +what I was, but this fellow coming up here has forced my hand. He knows +me, he'll be after you again, and you'd have found it out. Now, here's +my position: I want to get this case; it's my first big one and it'll +make me every way—professionally and financially." +</p> + +<p> +He looked at the man beside him who, gazing into the street, nodded +without speaking. +</p> + +<p> +"There's ten thousand dollars offered for the restoration of the jewels. +If I could get them I'd share that money with the person +who—who—er—helped." +</p> + +<p> +Willitts repeated his silent nod. +</p> + +<p> +"And even if I didn't get them I'd pay and pay well for any information +that would be useful." +</p> + +<p> +"I see," said the other, "'oever 'elps along in the good work gets 'is +reward." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Larkin did not like the words or the tone, but went on, his +confidential manner growing persuasive: +</p> + +<p> +"I'm engaged on the side of law and order. All I'm trying to do is to +restore stolen property to its owner. Any one that helps me is only +doing his duty." +</p> + +<p> +"A duty that gets its dues, as you might say." +</p> + +<p> +"Exactly. The money made by such services is earned honestly and there's +plenty of it to earn." +</p> + +<p> +"Righto! When the Janneys want a thing they'll open the purse wide and +generous." +</p> + +<p> +"And here's a point worth noticing: What I'm hired for is to get the +jewels, not the thief. The party behind me isn't out for vengeance or +prosecution. If I could deliver the goods it would be all right and no +questions asked. But the Whitneys wouldn't stop there—they're +bloodhounds when it comes to the chase. If they got anything on Price +they'd come down on him good and hard and Mrs. Janney'd stand in with +them." +</p> + +<p> +He was looking with anxious intentness at Willitts' profile. As he +finished it turned slowly, until the face was offered in full to his +watchful scrutiny. It was forbidding, the eyes sweeping him with a cold +contempt: +</p> + +<p> +"I can't 'elp understanding you, Larkin, and I'm sorry to 'ear you got +your suspicions of my gentleman and of <i>me</i>. The first is too low to +take notice of; the second is as bad, but I'll answer it to put us both +straight. I'm not the kind you take me for; I'm not to be bought. Even +if I did know anything that would be 'useful' as you say, wild 'orses +wouldn't drag it out of me. And no more will filthy lucre. Filthy—it's +the right name for it, you couldn't get a better." He rose, not so much +angry as hurt and haughty. "I can't find it in me to sit 'ere any +longer. I could talk of insults, but I won't. All I'll say is that I've +'ad a bit too much, and not wanting to 'ear more I'll bid you +good-night." +</p> + +<p> +Before the detective could find words to answer he had gone down the +path and vanished in the darkness. +</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xiiimolly-s-story"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id15">CHAPTER XIII—MOLLY'S STORY</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">One of the chief features of detective work is that you must be able to +change your mind. That may not sound hard—especially when the owner of +the mind happens to be a female—but believe me it's some stunt. You get +pointed one way, and to have to shift and face round in another is candy +for a weather vane but bread for a sleuth. +</p> + +<p> +Well, that's what happened to me. In the week that followed my visit to +the Whitneys I had to start out fresh on a new line of thought. I'd left +the office pretty certain, as the others were, that the bond between +Esther Maitland and Chapman Price was love, and before those seven days +were gone I'd thrown that theory into the discard, rolled up my sleeves, +taken a cinch in my belt, and set forth to blaze a new trail. +</p> + +<p> +I came round to it slow at first and I came round through Mr. Ferguson. +It was fine weather and when Bébita would go off with Annie, I'd curl up +in my conning tower in the school room window and take observations. As +I said before, it was a convenient place, just over Miss Maitland's +study, deserted all afternoon, and with the Venetian blinds down against +the sun, I could sit comfortable on my cushion and spy out between the +slats. +</p> + +<p> +The first thing that caught my attention was that Mr. Ferguson, who'd +come over pretty nearly every day, wouldn't make straight for the front +piazza which was the natural way to get there. Instead he'd take a +slanting course across the garden, come up some steps to the terrace, +and then walk slow past the study door. Sometimes he'd see Miss Maitland +and stop for a chat, and sometimes she wouldn't be there and he'd go by. +But each and every time, thinking no one was watching, he'd let a look +come on his face that's common to the whole male sex when the one +particular star is expected above the horizon. I guess the cave man got +it when, club in hand, he was chasing the cave girl and Solomon with his +six hundred wives must have had it stamped on his features so it came to +be his habitual expression. +</p> + +<p> +Though it was registered good and plain on Mr. Ferguson's countenance, I +couldn't at first believe it. It was too like a novel, too like +Cinderella and the Prince. Then, seeing it so frequent, I was convinced. +I'd say to myself "Why not—a girl's a girl if she is a plutocrat's +social secretary, and all men are free and equal when it comes to +disposing of their young affections." The romance of it got me, gripped +at my heart. I'd sit with my eye to the crack in the blinds staring down +at him as he'd send that look out for her—that wonderful look, that +look which gives you chills and fever, blind staggers and heart failure +and you'd rather have than a blank check drawn to your order and signed +by John Rockefeller. Oh, gee—I was a girl once myself—don't I know! +I'd have been interested if it was just an ordinary love story, but it +wasn't. It was a love story with a mystery for good measure; it was a +love story that had Mrs. Price thrown in to complicate the plot; it was +a love story that was all tangled up with other elements; and it was a +love story that I only could see one side of. +</p> + +<p> +For I couldn't get at her feelings at all. This was mostly because I +hardly ever saw her with him. If she did happen to be there when he +passed, she'd be either in her room or under the balcony roof and I +couldn't see how she acted or hear what she said. Also she had such a +hold on herself, had such a calm, reserved way with her, that you'd have +to be a clairvoyant to get under her guard. +</p> + +<p> +Any woman would have been thrilled but <i>me</i>, knowing what I did—can't +you see my thoughts going round in wheels and whirligigs? If she +reciprocated—and there's few that wouldn't or I don't know my own +sex—what was she doing with Price? Was she a siren playing the two of +them? Was she Mrs. Price's secret rival with both men? Was she the kind +of vampire heroine they have in plays who can break up a burglar-proof +home with one hand tied behind her? You wouldn't think it to look at +her—but the more I hit the high spots of society the more I feel you +can't tell people by the ordinary trade-marks. +</p> + +<p> +Then one afternoon toward the end of the week I saw a little scene right +under my window that lightened up the darkness. It gave me what I call +facts; what the Whitneys, anyway Mr. George—but that belongs farther +on. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Ferguson came out of the wood path, across the garden and on his +usual beat, up the terrace steps. He had a spray of lemon verbena in his +hand and as he walked over the grass with his long, light stride, he +kept his eyes on the balcony keen and expectant, his face all eager and +serious. Suddenly it changed, brightened, softened, glowed like the +sunlight had fallen on it—you didn't need to be a detective to know +she'd come out of the study. +</p> + +<p> +This time she came down the steps and went toward him. They met under my +window and stood there, he facing me, brushing his lips with the spray +of lemon verbena and looking down at her, a lover if ever I saw one. He +asked her what she was doing that afternoon, and she said going for a +walk, and when he wanted to know where, she said through the woods to +the beach. "A solitary walk?" he asked and she said yes, her walks were +always solitary. +</p> + +<p> +"By preference?" +</p> + +<p> +She turned half away from him and I could see her profile. I'd hardly +have known it for Miss Maitland's, soft, shy, the cheek pink. Her eyes +were on the toe of her shoe, white against the green grass, and with her +head drooping she was like a girl, bashful and blushing before her beau. +</p> + +<p> +"It generally is by preference," she said. +</p> + +<p> +"Would it exclude me," he asked, "if I tried to butt in?" +</p> + +<p> +She didn't answer for a moment, then said very low: +</p> + +<p> +"Not if you really wanted to come—didn't do it just to be kind to a +lonesome lady." +</p> + +<p> +"Lonesome lady be hanged," he exclaimed as joyful as if she'd given him +a kiss, "it's just the other way round—kindness to a lonesome +gentleman. I'm terribly lonesome this afternoon." +</p> + +<p> +But he wasn't going to be long—far from it. Round the corner of the +house, walking soft as a cat, came Mrs. Price. She made me think of a +cat every way, stepping so stealthy, her body so slim and lithe, a +small, secret smile on her face as if she'd come on two nice little +helpless mice. She was all in white, shining and spotless, a tennis +racket in one hand, a bunch of letters in the other. They didn't see +her and she got quite close, then said, sweet and smooth as treacle: +</p> + +<p> +"Good afternoon, Dick." +</p> + +<p> +They weren't doing anything but planning a walk, but they both started +like it had been a murder. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh," says Mr. Ferguson, looking blankly disconcerted, "oh, Suzanne, I +didn't see you. How do you do—good afternoon." +</p> + +<p> +She came to a halt and stood softly swinging her racket, looking at him +with that mean, cold smile. +</p> + +<p> +"I was in my room and saw you so I came down at once. It's a splendid +afternoon for our game, not a breath of wind." +</p> + +<p> +I saw, and she saw, and I guess any but a blind man could have seen, +he'd a date to play tennis with her and had forgotten it. Of course a +woman would have scrambled out, had <i>something</i> to offer that made a +noise like an excuse; but that poor prune of a man—they're all alike +when a quick lie's needed—couldn't think of a thing to say. He just +stood between them, looking haunted and stammering out such gems of +thought as, "Our game—of course our game—I hadn't noticed it but there +<i>is</i> no wind." +</p> + +<p> +She had him; he couldn't throw her down after he'd made the engagement, +and with her there he couldn't say what he wanted to Esther Maitland. +And neither of them helped him; Mrs. Price listened to his flounderings +with the little smile, light and cool on her painted lips, and Miss +Maitland stood by, not a word out of her. I noticed that Mrs. Price +never looked at her, acted as if she wasn't there, and presently +Ferguson, getting desperate, turns to her and says: +</p> + +<p> +"How about taking our walk later—after Mrs. Price and I have finished +our game?" +</p> + +<p> +The girl got red, burning; she started to answer, but Mrs. Price cut in, +for the first time addressing her: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Miss Maitland, that reminds me—I want these letters answered, if +you'll be so kind. Just follow the notes on the edges, and please do it +as soon as possible—they're rather important. They must go out on the +evening mail." +</p> + +<p> +She handed the letters to the girl and Esther Maitland took them with a +murmur. I know that kind of answer—it's the agreeing response of the +wage-earner. It comes soft and polite—it has to—but like the pleasant +rippling of the ocean on the beach it's not the only sound that element +can give forth. +</p> + +<p> +Ferguson tried to say something; he was mad and mortified and everything +else he ought to have been, but she wouldn't give him a chance. +</p> + +<p> +"Come along, Dick," she says, bright and easy, "you've kept me waiting +which is very rude, but I'm in a good humor and I'll forgive you. +There's a racket at the court—we were playing there this morning. You +can walk with Miss Maitland some other day. I'm afraid she'll have to +attend to <i>my</i> work this afternoon." +</p> + +<p> +He got balky, lingered, looked at Miss Maitland, but she turned sharply +away and moved toward the balcony. So there was nothing for him to do +but to go off with his captor. I couldn't but look after them, both in +beautiful white clothes, both rich, both young, he so tall, she so slim, +for all the world like a picture of lovers on the cover of a magazine. +Then I switched back to Miss Maitland. She's come to a halt, right below +the window, and, standing there like a graven image, was watching them. +</p> + +<p> +I never saw any one so still. You wouldn't have known she was alive +except for her eyes which moved after them, moved and moved, until the +pair disappeared behind the rose-covered trellis that hid the courts. +Then she let out a sound, a smothered ejaculation that you couldn't +spell with letters; but you didn't need to, it said more than printed +pages. Rage was in it and pain and love. They were in her face, too, +stamped and cut into it. I wouldn't have known it for hers, it was all +marred and tragic, a pitiful, dreadful face. +</p> + +<p> +She looked blankly at the letters in her hand, at first as if she didn't +know what they were, then crumpled them, threw them on the ground and +made a run for the balcony. She was almost there, I craning my neck to +keep her in sight, when she stopped, wheeled around, went back to the +scattered papers and picked them up. "Oh, bread and butter," I thought, +"bread and butter! Aren't you cursing it now?" Bad as I believed her to +be I couldn't but be sorry for her, for I've been in that position +myself. Take it from me, licking the hand that feeds you is a job that +comes hard to the worst of us. +</p> + +<p> +She pressed out the letters, smoothed away the creases slow and careful +and came back to the balcony. Just before she disappeared under it she +stopped and lifted her face, the eyes closed, the teeth pressed on her +under lip. It quivered like a child's on the brink of tears, but she +wasn't crying—fighting, I'd say, against something deeper than tears. I +couldn't bear to look at it and shut my own eyes; when I opened them she +was gone. +</p> + +<p> +You didn't need to tell me any more after that. She was in love with +Ferguson, not Price; she was in love and straining every nerve to hide +it; she was in love so she was jealous of Mrs. Price—and I'd bet a hat +she was the kind who could love fierce and hard. +</p> + +<p> +I had to get this into the office and the next day asked for time off +from Mrs. Janney and went in. I found them different to what they had +been on my first visit, taking it serious like they were warming to it. +I'd hardly sat down before I heard the reason. O'Malley had been busy +and turned up enough evidence to make them sure that Chapman Price and +Miss Maitland were in deep in some sort of plot or conspiracy. +</p> + +<p> +O'Malley's investigation of Price's movements on the night of July the +seventh had revealed these facts: Price had taken his car from Sommers' +garage at Cedar Brook at eight-thirty, not returning till five minutes +before two. To one of the garage men he had said that the night being so +fine he had gone for a long run over the island. No trace of his +whereabouts during these hours had been found until O'Malley dropped on +a policeman at the end of the Queensborough Bridge. This man said Price +had crossed over to the city between nine-thirty and ten. He was +positive of his identification, as early in June he had stopped the +young man for exceeding the speed limit on the bridge, taken his name +and address and had a heated altercation with him. From that time to his +return to Cedar Brook Price had dropped out of sight. He had not been in +the lodgings he kept in town or in any of the garages he patronized. +Whatever his business had been in the city he had had plenty of time to +return to Grasslands and participate in the theft of the jewels. +</p> + +<p> +A continued watch of the house at 76 Gayle Street had shown that both +Miss Maitland and Price had been there on the Thursday previous and +Price on Sunday afternoon. Each had entered with noiseless haste and +each had used a latchkey. O'Malley in a search for a room had +interviewed the janitor, a grouchy old chap living in the basement; and +got a line on all the tenants, none of whom answered to the description +of Price or Miss Maitland. Of their visits to the house the man was +evidently ignorant, but he supplied some information which showed how +they could come and go without his cognizance. +</p> + +<p> +On July the eighth a lady, giving no name, had taken the right hand +front room on the top floor for a friend, Miss Agnes Brown, an art +student coming from the west but not yet arrived in the city. The lady +paid a month's rent in advance, took the key, and said when Miss Brown +arrived, the janitor would be informed, but that she might be delayed +through illness in her family. This lady, as described by the janitor, +was beyond a doubt Esther Maitland. +</p> + +<p> +O'Malley was positive that the man honestly believed the room unused and +awaiting its occupant. He had seen no signs of habitation, heard no +sound from behind its closed door. Cooking was permitted in the house +and it was part of his business to sweep down the halls every morning +and empty the pails containing the food refuse which were placed outside +the doors. He had seen no pail, no milk bottles, and never at night, +when he went up to light the hall gas, had there been a gleam from the +transom of Miss Brown's apartment. +</p> + +<p> +The room had been engaged by Esther Maitland the day after the robbery, +had been secured for a tenant who had not materialized. She had taken +the key herself and had visited the place, as Chapman Price had done. +Both had made their exits and entrances so carefully that the janitor +had no idea any one had ever been inside the door since the day it was +rented. +</p> + +<p> +After I'd heard all this I opened up with what I'd collected. The Chief +didn't say much, which is his way when you come in with a new "twist," +but Mr. George wouldn't have it, got quite peevish and said my +imagination had run away with me. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you think a girl in love with another man would have embroiled +herself with Price the way she has?" he snapped out. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know, Mr. George. I'm not ready to say yet what she's done or +hasn't done. No one can deny that things are dead against her. All I'm +sure of now is that she is in love with Mr. Ferguson and, that being the +case, I don't think she's the kind, guilty or innocent, who'd take up +with another man." +</p> + +<p> +"But you can't base a conviction on a moment's pantomime such as you +overlooked. The girl was probably angry at Mrs. Price's manner. It can +be a deuced disagreeable manner; I've seen it." +</p> + +<p> +"She didn't act like that—it wasn't only anger—it was all sorts of +feelings." +</p> + +<p> +He couldn't see it any way but his own and hammered at me. +</p> + +<p> +"But the whole structure's built on the assumption of an affair between +her and Price. Do you think she'd steal for him, lie for him, hire a +room to meet him in, unless she was so crazy about him she was clay in +his hands?" +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. George," I said, dropping back in my chair sort of helpless but +still as obstinate as a government mule, "every word you say sounds like +sense and I'm not saying it isn't. But while I'm not passing any +criticisms on you, in this kind of question, I'd back my own judgment +against any man's that ever lived since Adam tried to throw the blame on +Eve." +</p> + +<p> +The Chief laughed like he was amused at the scrapping of two kids. +</p> + +<p> +"That's right, Molly," he says, "don't let him brow-beat you, stick to +your own opinion." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, what do <i>you</i> think?" Mr. George turned to him all red and +ruffled up. "Isn't she building up theories on the flimsiest kind of +foundation?" +</p> + +<p> +The Chief wouldn't give him any satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll take a leaf out of her book," he said, "not pass any criticisms. +And I think we're going on too fast. I expect to have Chapman here +himself in a day or two and ask some questions about that long ride on +the night of July the seventh. After that we'll be on a firmer +footing—or we ought to be. Meantime, Molly, you go back to Grasslands. +Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut and if anything turns up let me +know." +</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xiva-chapter-about-bad-tempers"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id16">CHAPTER XIV—A CHAPTER ABOUT BAD TEMPERS</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">Things were not going Mr. Larkin's way. What had begun with such bright +promise was declining to a twilight uncertainty. The morning after his +ignominious failure with Willitts he had a letter from Suzanne, +forwarded from his New York office, telling him that she would be in +town on the following Monday and would like to see him. The letter +disturbed him greatly. It was not alone that he had nothing to report; +it was that the tone of the missive was irritated and impatient. It was +the angrily imperious summons of a lady who is disappointed in her +hireling. +</p> + +<p> +He packed up his things and left Cedar Brook—the collapse of his +endeavor there was complete—and at the hour appointed found Suzanne +waiting in the shaded reception room. Her words and manner showed him +how disagreeable a fine lady can be; they gave him a cold premonition +that his fat salary would end unless something distinct and definite was +soon forthcoming. In fact she hinted it; his assurances that +interesting developments were pending, that this sort of work was +necessarily slow, kindled no responsive enthusiasm in the crossly +accusing eye she fastened on him. His manner became almost pleading; he +was on the edge of discoveries, unquestionably he would have something +to tell her by the end of the week. At that she hung dubious, the angry +eye less disconcerting, and said she would be in town on Friday as she +was going to take her little girl to the oculist. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Larkin hailed the announcement with a sleuth-like eagerness, but, as +if anxious to quench any little flicker of his spirit, she added +blightingly that she didn't think it would be possible to see him as the +child would be with her. He grappled with the difficulty, displaying +both patience and resourcefulness, for Mrs. Price, in a bad temper, had +a talent for creating obstacles. +</p> + +<p> +Why, he suggested, couldn't the little girl go to the oculist with her +nurse or companion and Mrs. Price be left, so to speak, free to roam? +Mrs. Price's answer snapped with an angry click—that was of course what +she would do—she always did. <i>But</i>, Mr. Larkin did not suppose she took +the exhausting trip from Berkeley for nothing, did he? She had matters +to attend to herself, shops to go to, people to see; when they came into +town they were swamped, simply <i>swamped</i>, by what they had to do. She +depicted with a lively irritation their harried progress, the party +split into halves, one in a hired vehicle, one in the family motor, +passing through the marts of trade in a stampede of breathless shopping. +She rubbed it in, seemed to be intimating that he was attempting to +frustrate an overtaxed and weary woman in the accomplishment of gigantic +tasks. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Larkin met the difficulties and kept his patience. It took a good +deal to finally reach a settlement which was obvious from the start. The +child and her companion could go on their errands and Suzanne could go +on hers, but be back before them. He could meet her at the house at any +hour she named and would leave before the return of the other half of +the party. He forced her to an admission that the plan was feasible, +though she gave it grudgingly, her manner still suggesting that if he +had conducted himself as a detective worthy of his hire she would not +have been put to so much trouble. She arranged to be at the house at +twelve which she calculated might give her half an hour alone with him. +Should there be any change of plans she would let him know, and she +<i>hoped</i>, with an accentuated glance, he would have something +satisfactory to tell her. +</p> + +<p> +His good temper unshaken, Mr. Larkin assured her he would and rose to +go. On the doorstep he mopped his forehead though the day was not warm, +also he swore softly as he descended the steps. +</p> + +<p> +A day or two after this, Chapman Price went to the Whitney office. He +had received a communication from them asking for an interview, the +ostensible subject of debate being Suzanne's divorce. The suit would be +conducted at Reno where Mrs. Price would go in the autumn, but the +Whitneys, as the Janney lawyers, wanted to talk the matter over with Mr. +Price for the arranging of various financial details. +</p> + +<p> +These were quickly opened up for his attention by Wilbur Whitney, who, +with George, saw the young man in his private office. The ground of +divorce—non-support—was touched on with a tactful lightness. Mrs. +Price would of course ask for no alimony and so forth and so on. From +that the elder Whitney passed to the subject of the child; it was the +desire of its mother and grandparents that Chapman should relinquish all +claim on it. The young man listened, gloomy and scowling, now and then +muttering in angry repudiation. But the diplomatic arguments of the +lawyer bore down his opposition; he had to give in. The child ought to +remain with its mother, the natural guardian of its tender years; left +entirely to the Janneys it would be the eventual heiress of their great +wealth, but if Chapman antagonized them by a fight for its possession +its prospects might suffer. It was a persuasive appeal, made to +Chapman's parental affections, the welfare of his daughter before his +own. It brought him to a sullen consent, and Wilbur Whitney, with a +sound of approval, pushed back his chair, elated as by a good work done. +</p> + +<p> +Price rose, his face flushed and frowning. That he was resentful was +plain to be seen, but he had himself in hand, inquiring with a sardonic +politeness if that was all they wanted of him. The elder Whitney with a +hospitable gesture toward the empty chair, said no, there were some +questions he'd like to ask, nothing of any especial moment and on an +entirely different matter. +</p> + +<p> +"Mrs. Janney," he explained, "has suggested that we make a separate, +private investigation of the robbery. She's lost faith in Kissam, who +hasn't done anything but draw his pay envelope and wants us to see what +we can do. So we've been clearing up a lot of dead wood, looking into +the movements of the people in the house and the neighborhood that +night." +</p> + +<p> +Price, who had remained standing, turned his eyes on the speaker in a +gaze that had a quality of sudden fixed attention. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh," he said, in a tone containing a note of hostile comprehension, "so +<i>you're</i> in it, are you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes; we're in it—only a little way so far. We've been rounding up +every one that has, or has had, any dealings with the family and we've +taken you in in the sweep." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Me?</i>" Price's voice showed an intense surprise. "What have I got to do +with it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing, my dear boy, except that you <i>were</i> a member of the household, +and as I said, we're clearing up every one in sight. It's only a +formality, a tagging and disposing of all unnecessary elements. You went +for a motor ride that night—a long ride. You wouldn't mind telling us +where, would you? It's just for the purpose of eliminating you along +with the rest of the dead wood." +</p> + +<p> +The young man's gaze dropped from Whitney's face to his own hat lying on +the table. He looked at it with an absent stare. +</p> + +<p> +"A motor ride?" he murmured. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, from eight-thirty till nearly two." +</p> + +<p> +"Um," Price appeared to be considering. "Let me see—what was the date, +I don't remember?" +</p> + +<p> +George assisted his memory: +</p> + +<p> +"July the seventh—a moonlight night." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah," he had it now, nodding his head several times in restored +recollection. "Of course, I remember perfectly. There was a heavy rain +early in the evening and then a full moon." He turned to the elder man. +"I'm rather fond of ranging about at night, and couldn't quite place +what especial ride you referred to. I took a long spin up the Island." +</p> + +<p> +"Up?" said Whitney, "not being a Long Islander I don't know your +directions. Would 'up' mean toward the city?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, the other way, out along the Sound roads and on toward Peconic." +</p> + +<p> +"Kept to the country, eh? Too fine a night to waste in town." +</p> + +<p> +Price's face darkened. George watching him noticed a slight dilation of +his nostrils, a slight squaring of the line of his jaw. His answer came +in a tone hard and combative: +</p> + +<p> +"Exactly. I get enough of town in the day. I rode, as I told you, out to +the east, a long way—I can't give you the exact route if that's what +you want." He suddenly leaned forward and snatched his hat from the +table. Holding it against his side he made an ironical bow to his +questioner said, "Does <i>that</i> eliminate me as a suspect?" +</p> + +<p> +Whitney laughed, a sound of lazy good humor rich with the tolerance of a +vast experience: +</p> + +<p> +"My dear Chapman, why use such sensational terms? Suspect is a word we +haven't reached yet. Take this as it's meant—a form, merely a form." +</p> + +<p> +"The form might have included a questioning of me before you took the +trouble to look up what I did. Evidently my word wasn't thought +sufficient." +</p> + +<p> +His glance, darkly threatening, moved from one man to the other. George +started to protest, but he cut in, his words directed at old Whitney: +</p> + +<p> +"It's all I have to offer you now. It's what I say against what you've +been told to believe. I can prove no alibi, for I was with no one, saw +no one, started alone and stayed alone. That's all you'll get out of me, +and you can take it or leave it as you d——n please." +</p> + +<p> +He turned and walked toward the door, the elder Whitney's conciliatory +phrases delivered to his back. The door knob in his hand he wheeled +round, the anger he had been struggling to subdue fierce in his face: +</p> + +<p> +"Don't think for a moment you've fooled me. I was ignorant when I came +in here, but I'm on to the whole dirty business now. I see through this +pussy-footing round the divorce. It's the Janneys—the blow in the back +I might have known was coming. They've got my child, set you on to +wheedle her out of me. But that wasn't enough—they're going to try and +finish the good work—put me out of business so there's no more trouble +coming from me. Brand me as a thief—that's their game, is it? +Well—they've gone too far. I've held my hand up to this but now I'll +let loose. They'll see! By God, they'll see that I can hit back blow for +blow." +</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xvwhat-happened-on-friday"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id17">CHAPTER XV—WHAT HAPPENED ON FRIDAY</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">The Friday morning when Suzanne was to go to town broke auspiciously +bright and cloudless. As Annie was not the proper person to take Bébita +to the oculist, and as Suzanne would be too busy to go herself, Miss +Maitland had been impressed into the service. It had been decided two +days earlier, and though she had received some instructions at the time, +on the drive in, Mrs. Price went over her plans with a meticulous +thoroughness. They would go first to the Fifth Avenue house, pick up +there some clothes of Bébita's needing alteration, and then separate. +Esther would take a cab from the rank on the side street, and go with +Bébita to the oculist, to the dressmaker with the clothes, and execute +several minor commissions in shops along the Avenue. Bébita begged for a +box of caramels from Justin's, the French confectioner, a request which +was graciously acceded to by her mother, Miss Maitland jotting it down +on her list. Mrs. Price would take the motor and go about her own +affairs, which would occupy probably an hour. She would then return to +the house and wait for them—for she would have finished before they +did—and afterward they would go out to lunch somewhere. She said she +thought it would be fully an hour and a half before they got back and +Miss Maitland, eyeing the long list, said it might be even longer. +</p> + +<p> +Aggie McGee had the clothes tied up in a box and Suzanne and Bébita +stood on the steps waiting while Miss Maitland went for the cab. The +rank was just round the corner and in a few minutes she came back with a +taxi running along the curb behind her. +</p> + +<p> +"Quite a piece of luck to find one," she said, as she took the box. +"They're not always there in the dead season." +</p> + +<p> +Bébita jumped in, settling herself with joyful prancings and waving a +little white-gloved hand. Esther followed, snapped the door shut, and +they glided away. Suzanne watched them go, then stepped into the big +motor and was swept off in the opposite direction. +</p> + +<p> +She came back before the hour was up. She had hurried as she wanted to +have done with Larkin before they returned. It would be extremely +uncomfortable if they found her in confab with the detective; it would +necessitate boring explanations and the inventing of lies. +</p> + +<p> +She sat down in the reception room close to the window, pulled up the +blind and waited. Drawn back from the eyes of passers-by she could +command the sidewalk and the street for some distance and if, by any +evil chance, Larkin should be late, she could see him coming and tell +Aggie McGee to say she was not there. +</p> + +<p> +Up to now Larkin had been punctual to the dot, but on this, the one +occasion when punctuality was vital, he was not on time. Twelve passed, +then the quarter, and the sun-swept length of the great avenue gave up +no masculine figure that bore any resemblance to him. She was growing +nervous, wondering what she had better do, when he hove in sight walking +quickly toward the house. A glance at her wrist watch told her it was +twenty minutes past twelve—Miss Maitland and Bébita might not be back +for another half hour yet. She would chance it, for she was extremely +anxious to see him, and anyway, if they should come in before he left, +she could tell him to go into the drawing room and slip out after they +had gone. Relieved by the decision she rose and was turning toward the +mirror, when she caught sight of a taxi scudding up the street with +Esther Maitland's face in the window. +</p> + +<p> +A word not generally used by ladies escaped Suzanne. There was nothing +for it but to send him away. She ran into the hall and pressed the bell, +listening in a fever for Aggie McGee's step on the kitchen stairs. +Simultaneously with its first heavy thud came the peal of the front door +bell. Suzanne, who had noticed that the taxi was moving fast and would +make the steps before Larkin, called down on Aggie McGee's ascending +head: +</p> + +<p> +"That's Miss Maitland. A gentleman I expected is just behind her. I +can't see him now, I haven't time. Tell him I've been here and gone." +</p> + +<p> +She went back into the reception room and stood listening. She heard the +door opening, Esther's step in the hall; it was all right, the detective +would get his congé without being seen by any one but Aggie McGee. She +drew a breath of relief and turned smiling to the girl in the doorway. +Miss Maitland did not give back the smile; she sent a searching look +over the room and said in a low, breathless voice as if she had been +running: +</p> + +<p> +"Is Bébita here?" +</p> + +<p> +There was a moment of silence. Through it the heavy tread of Aggie McGee +passing along the hall sounded unnaturally loud. As it went clump, +clump, down the kitchen stairs Suzanne was aware of Miss Maitland's +face, startlingly strange, ashen-colored. At first it was all she took +in. +</p> + +<p> +"Bébita—here?" she stammered. "How could she be? She's with you." +</p> + +<p> +Miss Maitland made a step into the room, her hands went up clenched to +her chest, her voice came again through the broken gasps of a runner: +</p> + +<p> +"No—she isn't. I thought I'd find her with you—I thought she'd come +back. Oh, Mrs. Price—" she stopped, her eyes, telling a message of +disaster, fixed on the other. +</p> + +<p> +Suzanne's answer came from opened lips, dropped apart in a sudden +horror: +</p> + +<p> +"What do you mean? Why should she be here?" +</p> + +<p> +"Mrs. Price, something's happened!" +</p> + +<p> +Suzanne screamed out: +</p> + +<p> +"Where is she?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know—but—but—I haven't got her—she's gone. Mrs. Price—" +</p> + +<p> +Suzanne screamed again, putting her hands against the sides of her head, +her face, between them, a livid mask. +</p> + +<p> +"Gone—gone where? Is she dead?" +</p> + +<p> +The girl shook her head, swallowing on a throat dried to a leathern +stiffness: +</p> + +<p> +"No—no—nothing like that. But—the taxi—it went, disappeared while I +was in Justin's. I was in there buying the candy and when I came out it +was gone. I looked everywhere; I couldn't believe it; I thought she'd +come back here—run away from me for a joke." +</p> + +<p> +Suzanne, holding the sides of her head, stared like a mad woman, then +gave a piercing cry, thin and high, a wild, dolorous sound. Only the +solidity of the house prevented it from penetrating to the lower regions +where Aggie McGee and her aunt were comfortably lunching. +</p> + +<p> +"Listen, Mrs. Price." Esther took her hands and drew them down. "The +driver may have made a mistake, taken her somewhere else—he couldn't—" +</p> + +<p> +Suzanne shrieked in sudden frenzy: +</p> + +<p> +"She's been stolen—my baby's been stolen!" +</p> + +<p> +For a second they looked at one another, each pallid face confessing its +conviction of the grisly thought. Esther tried to speak, the sentences +dropping disconnected: +</p> + +<p> +"If it's that then—then—it's some one who knows you're rich—some +one—they'll want money. They'll give her up for money—Oh, Mrs. Price, +I looked—I hunted—" +</p> + +<p> +Suzanne's voice came in a suddenly strangled whisper: +</p> + +<p> +"It's you—It's your fault! You've let them steal my baby. You've done +it! You'll be put in jail." +</p> + +<p> +With the words issuing from her mouth she staggered and crumpled into a +limpness of fiberless flesh and trailing garments. Esther put an arm +about her and drew her to the sofa. Here she collapsed amid the +cushions, her eyes open, moans coming from her shaking lips. Esther +knelt beside her: +</p> + +<p> +"Mrs. Price, it's horrible, but try to keep up, don't break down this +way. No one would dare to do anything to her. If she's been stolen it's +to the interest of the person who did it to keep her safe. We'll find +her in a day or two. Your mother, her position, her power—she'll do +something, she'll get her back." +</p> + +<p> +Suzanne rolling her head on the cushion, groaned: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, my baby! Oh, Bébita!" Then burst into wild tears and disjointed +sentences. She was almost unintelligible, cries to heaven, wails for her +child, accusations of the woman at her feet broke from her in a torrent. +Once she struck at the girl with a feeble fist. +</p> + +<p> +There was no help to be got from her and Esther rose. She spoke more to +herself than the anguished creature on the sofa: +</p> + +<p> +"We can't waste time this way. I'll call up Grasslands and ask what to +do." +</p> + +<p> +The telephone was in the hall and, as she waited for the connection, she +could hear the sounds of the mother's misery beating on the house's rich +silence. Then Dixon's voice brought her faculties into quick order. She +wanted to speak to Mrs. Janney herself, at once, it was important. There +followed what seemed an endless wait, and then Mrs. Janney. When she had +mastered it, her voice came, sharp and incisive: +</p> + +<p> +"Hold the wire, I have to speak to Mr. Janney." +</p> + +<p> +Another wait, through which, faint as the shadows of sound, Esther could +hear the tiny echo of voices, then the jar of an approaching step and a +man answered: +</p> + +<p> +"Hello, Miss Maitland, this is Ferguson. I've orders from Mrs. +Janney—Go straight down to the Whitney office, tell them what's +happened and put the thing in their hands. Say nothing to anybody else. +Mr. and Mrs. Janney are starting to go in. They'll be in town as quickly +as they can get there and will meet you at the office. Got that +straight? All right. Good-by." +</p> + +<p> +She cogitated a moment, then called up the Whitney office getting +George. She gave him a brief outline of what had occurred and told him +she would be there with Mrs. Price within a half hour. +</p> + +<p> +Back in the reception room she tried to arouse Suzanne, but the +distracted woman did not seem to have sense left to take in anything. At +the sound of Esther's voice her sobs and wails rose hysterical, and the +girl, finding it impossible to make her understand, set about preparing +her for the drive. Any word of hers appeared to make Suzanne's state +worse, so silently, as if she were dressing a manikin, she pinned the +hat to the disordered blonde hair, draped a motor veil over it, composed +the rumpled skirts, gathered up her purse and gloves, and finally, an +arm crooked round one of Suzanne's, got her out to the motor. +</p> + +<p> +On the long drive downtown almost nothing was said. The roar of the +surrounding traffic drowned the sounds of weeping that now and then rose +from the veiled figure, which Esther held firm and upright by the +pressure of her shoulder. +</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xvimolly-s-story"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id18">CHAPTER XVI—MOLLY'S STORY</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">That Friday—gee, shall I ever forget it!—opening so quiet and natural +and suddenly bang, in the middle of it, the sort of thing you read in +the yellow press. +</p> + +<p> +It was a holiday for me and I was sitting in the upper hall alcove +making a blouse and handy to the extension 'phone. Now and then it would +ring and I'd pull it over with a weary sigh and hear a female voice full +of cultivation and airs ask if Mrs. Janney'd take a hand at bridge, or a +male one want to know what Mr. Janney thought about eighteen holes at +golf. +</p> + +<p> +It was on for one when it rang again and with a smothered groan—for I +was putting on the collar—I jerked it over. <i>Believe me</i>, I forgot that +blouse! Stiff, like I was turned to stone, I sat there listening, +hearing them come, one after another, getting every word of it. When +they were through I got up, feeling sort of gone in the middle, and lit +out for the stairs. I couldn't have kept away—Bébita disappeared! +"Kidnapped!" I said to myself as I ran along the hall. "Kidnapped! +that's what it is—it's only poor children that get lost." +</p> + +<p> +On the stairs I met Mrs. Janney coming up on the run. It wasn't the +speed that made her breath short; but she was on the job, the grand old +Roman, with her mouth as straight as the slit in a post box and her face +as hard as if it was cut out of granite. +</p> + +<p> +"Go down there," she said, giving a jerk of her head toward the hall +below. "Sit there and wait. Something's happened and you may be useful." +</p> + +<p> +I went on down and took a seat. Outside on the balcony I could see Mr. +Janney, wandering about with a hunted look. From the telephone closet +came Ferguson's voice telling his chauffeur to bring his car to +Grasslands, now, this minute, and enough gasoline for a long run. Then +he came out, hooked an armful of coats off the hall rack, and ran past +me on to the balcony. He gave the coats to Mr. Janney, who stood holding +them, looking after Ferguson wherever he went and quavering questions at +him. I don't think Ferguson answered them, but he pulled one of the +coats out of the old man's arms and put him into it, quick and +efficient. When the motor came up he tried to make Mr. Janney get in, +but he wouldn't, standing there, helpless and pitiful, and calling out +for Mrs. Janney. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm here, Sam," came her voice from the stairs and she scudded by where +I was sitting, tying her motor veil over her hat. She seemed to have +forgotten me and I followed her out on to the balcony, not knowing what +she wanted me to do. As I stood there Ferguson's big car came shooting +up the drive. +</p> + +<p> +She climbed quickly into her own motor, waiting at the bottom of the +steps, Mr. Janney scrambled in after her and Ferguson threw a rug over +them. They were just starting when she looked up and saw me. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh," she cried, leaning across the old man, "we'll want you—you must +come." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Janney stared bewildered at her and said: +</p> + +<p> +"Why—why should <i>she</i> come?" +</p> + +<p> +"Keep quiet, Sam," then over her shoulder to Ferguson as the car began +to move, "Bring Mrs. Babbitts, Dick. Take her with you." +</p> + +<p> +The car glided off, Mr. Janney's voice floating back: +</p> + +<p> +"But why, why—why do you want <i>her</i>?" +</p> + +<p> +Ferguson's motor swung round the oval and came to a halt. The chauffeur +jumped out, and, told he wasn't wanted, disappeared. The young man +turned to me, not a smile out of him now. +</p> + +<p> +"Come on, get in," he said and then giving a nod at one of the coats +lying over a chair, "and bring that with you—it may blow up cold and +it's a long run." +</p> + +<p> +I did as I was told—there was something about him that made you do what +he said—and jumped in. He came on my heels, snapped the door and we +started. Before we got to the gates he speeded the machine up and in a +few minutes we were close on the Janney motor which was flying along the +woody road at a pace that would have strained the heart of a bicycle +cop. Their dust came over us in a cloud, and Mr. Ferguson slowed down, +and, his hand resting easy on the wheel, said: +</p> + +<p> +"What does Mrs. Janney want you for?" +</p> + +<p> +I'd hoped he hadn't noticed that, but in case he had I'd an answer +ready. +</p> + +<p> +"Maybe she thought I might have noticed if any one was hanging round +lately—hanging round to size up the habits of the family and Bébita's +movements." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh," he said, looking at me very pointed, "then you know what's +happened to Bébita." +</p> + +<p> +I hadn't any answer ready for <i>that</i>. I had to get hold of something +quick and as you will do when you're taken off your guard, I got hold of +a lie: +</p> + +<p> +"I met Mrs. Janney on the stairs and she told me." +</p> + +<p> +"That's funny," he says, sort of thoughtful. "Before she went she told +both Mr. Janney and myself that no one in the house must hear a word of +it." +</p> + +<p> +I began to get red, and for a moment, stared at my feet pressed side by +side on the wood in front of me. It didn't make it any pleasanter to +know that Ferguson was looking at me, intent and narrow, out of the tail +of his eye. +</p> + +<p> +"I guess she was so excited she forgot and just blabbed it out." +</p> + +<p> +It was the best I could do, but it was poor stuff. If you knew Mrs. +Janney you'd see why. +</p> + +<p> +"Um," said Ferguson, and took a look ahead at the cloud of dust that hid +the other car. Then he comes out with another: +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder if that was the reason she called you Mrs. Babbitts?" +</p> + +<p> +I took a good breath from the bottom of my lungs and said: +</p> + +<p> +"I shouldn't be surprised. Having your grandchild lost is enough to mix +up any woman." +</p> + +<p> +He didn't answer and we ran on some way, out of the woods on to a long +straight stretch of road. The motor in front was going at a tremendous +clip, Mrs. Janney's veil lashing out like a wild hand beckoning us on. +</p> + +<p> +"Look here," says Ferguson, soft and gentle right into my ear, "what +<i>are</i> you, anyway?" +</p> + +<p> +"Me?" I bounced round and gave him a baby stare. "I'm a governess. What +do you think I am?" +</p> + +<p> +"You may be a good governess but you're a poor liar. I was in the +telephone closet and heard what Mrs. Janney said to you on the stairs. +And I don't think you're a governess at all—you're a detective." +</p> + +<p> +I thought a minute but what was the use, he had me. So I raised up my +chin and met him, eye for eye: +</p> + +<p> +"All right, I am. What of it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, lots of it. I've had my suspicions for some time. You tapped that +'phone message from New York?" +</p> + +<p> +"I did—it's my job. I have to do it." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't apologize—it wastes time and we haven't any to lose. Now just +tell me Miss Rogers, or Mrs. Babbitts, what have you found out about the +robbery; where were you getting to before this hideous mess to-day?" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, you've got your nerve with you!" I snorted. +</p> + +<p> +"I have, right here handy. I'm a friend of the Janneys, I'm a—" he +stopped. His nerve was handy all right but he hadn't enough to tell me +it was because of Esther Maitland he was so keen. +</p> + +<p> +"Go on," I said sarcastic. "I'm interested to hear what <i>you</i> are now +you've found out what I am." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm almost a member of the household. I can help. I want to help—and I +want to know." +</p> + +<p> +"Maybe you do," I said. "We often want things in this world that we +can't get. Don't think you have the monopoly of that complaint." +</p> + +<p> +The motor rose over the crest of a hill, flashed by a farm and slid down +an incline. Before us stretched a white line of road, with the forward +car racing along it in a blur of dust. +</p> + +<p> +"You mean you won't tell me?" +</p> + +<p> +"You got me." +</p> + +<p> +We suddenly began to slow up, the car swung off sideways from the +roadbed, ran toward the bushes on the right, and came to a halt. +Ferguson dropped against the back of the seat, stretched his legs and +said: +</p> + +<p> +"This is a nice shady place to stop in." +</p> + +<p> +"Stop!" I cried. "Forget it! What do you want to stop for?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't—it's you. I'm going to rest here quietly while you tell me." +</p> + +<p> +"Young man," I said, fixing him with a cold eye, "this is no time to be +funny." +</p> + +<p> +"I entirely agree with you. Therefore as we're of the same mind it +behooves you to get busy and give me the information I want." +</p> + +<p> +The coolness of him would have riled a hen. It did me; I gave a stamp on +the footboard and angrily said: +</p> + +<p> +"Start up this machine. I was ordered to go to New York and I've got to +get there." +</p> + +<p> +"You will as soon as you tell me. But I won't move until you do. We'll +stay here all day, all night if necessary. There's just one thing +certain: we'll stay till I hear what I want to know." +</p> + +<p> +I was beaten and it made me mad straight through. I was helpless too +and that made me madder. If I'd had the least notion of how you started +the dinged machine I was angry enough to have tried to do it, though it +wouldn't have been any use with Ferguson there to frustrate me. +</p> + +<p> +"You're losing time," said he. "There'll be trouble if you don't show +up." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you think it's a high class thing," I snapped out, "to put a girl in +a position like this?" +</p> + +<p> +"Don't <i>you</i> think you can trust me?" he answered very quiet. +</p> + +<p> +I looked at him, a long, slow survey, and as I did it my anger simmered +down. It's part of my business to read faces and what I saw in his made +me say sort of reluctant: +</p> + +<p> +"Well, maybe I can." +</p> + +<p> +He leaned forward and put his hand on mine. +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Rogers, if you'll stand in with me, trust me and let me help, you +won't make any mistake. For I'll stand in with you, not now, not just +for this thing, but for always. You've my word on it and I don't break +my word." +</p> + +<p> +That ended it—not what he said but the look of him while he said it. +Almost without knowing it my hand turned under his and they clasped. +Solemn as a pair of images we shook. Any one passing would have thought +we were crazy, backed into the brushwood, side by side on the front +seat, shaking hands as if we'd just been introduced. +</p> + +<p> +I told him the whole story and he never said a word. When I came to Miss +Maitland's part in it, I couldn't but look at him. He drew his eyebrows +down in a frown and fiddled with his fingers on the wheel. Even when I +told him what they thought about her and Chapman Price he didn't made a +sound, but he straightened up, and drew a deep breath like he wanted +more air in his lungs. I got it some way then—I can't exactly say +how—that he was a good deal more of a person than I'd guessed—a lot +more iron in his make-up than I'd thought when I liked his laugh and his +boyish, jolly ways. +</p> + +<p> +When I finished he said, easy and cool: +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you—that gives me just what I wanted. You won't regret having +told me. As for Whitney & Whitney, they won't say anything. They're my +lawyers—known 'em all my life. I'll take care of that." +</p> + +<p> +He took hold of the wheel and the car backed out into the road. +</p> + +<p> +"Can we ever catch them up?" I asked. +</p> + +<p> +"I guess so—this car can make seventy-five miles an hour. Are you game +for a race?" +</p> + +<p> +"I'm game for anything that'll land me where I belong." +</p> + +<p> +"All right—hold on to your hat." +</p> + +<p> +I guess the Lord protects those who are bent on His own business. Anyway +I don't know why else we weren't killed. We ate up that road like a dago +eating macaroni; it ran under the car like a white ribbon fastened to a +spindle somewhere behind us. The woods were two green streaks on either +side, and now and then a chuck hole would send me bouncing, landing +anywhere—on the floor once. +</p> + +<p> +"Hold on to something," he shouted at me. "I don't want to lose you." +</p> + +<p> +And I shouted back: +</p> + +<p> +"You couldn't. I'm wished on to this motor till death do us part or it +lands me somewhere alive." +</p> + +<p> +Through the villages we had to slow up. Gliding dignified along the +tree-shaded streets put me into a fever and I guess it wore on him for +more than once I heard him muttering to himself, and believe me, he +wasn't saying his prayers. I glimpsed sideways at him, and saw his +tanned face, with the hair loose and tousled by the wind, looking +changed, hardened and older, all the gay expression gone. The news he'd +forced out of me had hit him a body blow, struck him in the heart. And I +was sorry, awfully sorry. You can hurt a mean person or a criminal and +not care, but it's no lady's job to have to wound a decent man. That's +why I'd never make a good professional—the people get as big as the +case to me, and if you're the real thing it's only the case that counts. +</p> + +<p> +We were almost in Long Island City when we caught up with the Janneys, +Mrs. Janney's veil still waving like a hand beckoning us to hurry. +</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xviimiss-maitland-in-a-new-light"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id19">CHAPTER XVII—MISS MAITLAND IN A NEW LIGHT</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">At the entrance of the great building which housed the Whitney office +the two motors came to a halt. Ferguson went in with the others saying +he would see if he could be of any use, and if he was not wanted would +return to the street level and wait. In the elevator Mr. Janney, who had +been informed en route of Molly's real status, eyed her morosely, but +when the car stopped forgot everything but the urgencies of the moment, +and crowded out, tremulous and stumbling, on his wife's heels. +</p> + +<p> +They were met by Wilbur Whitney who in a large efficient way, +distributed them:—Ferguson was sent back to the street to wait, Molly +waved to a chair in the hall, and the old people conducted up the +passage to his private office. In a room opening from it Suzanne lay +stretched on a sofa, restoratives and stimulants at hand, and a girl +stenographer to fan her. She had revolted against the presence of +Esther, who had been removed from her sight and shut in the sanctum of a +junior partner. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Janney went in to see her and the old man fell upon Whitney. It was +Price's doing—they were certain of it, his wife had said so at once. He +was bound to get back at them some way, he'd said he would—he'd left +Grasslands swearing vengeance, and had been only waiting his +opportunity. The lawyer nodded in understanding agreement and, Mrs. +Janney returning, they drew up to the table and conferred in low voices. +</p> + +<p> +What Whitney said confirmed the Janneys' belief. He told of his +interview with Price; the man's anger and threats. Nevertheless he was +of the opinion that the plot to kidnap the child had not been undertaken +in sudden passion, but had probably been for some time germinating in +Chapman's mind. The news of Bébita's loss, telephoned to the office by +Miss Maitland, while it had shocked, had not altogether surprised him, +though he had hardly thought the young man's desire to get square would +have carried him to such lengths. Immediately after Esther's +communication, George had telephoned to Price's office receiving the +answer that he was not there but could probably be found at the +Hartleys' at Cedar Brook. From the Hartleys they had learned that Mr. +Price was in town, and had sent word that morning he would not come out +this week-end. +</p> + +<p> +There were other circumstances which the lawyer said pointed to Price. +These they could hear from Mrs. Babbitts who had made some important +discoveries. He rose to send for her, but Mrs. Janney stayed him with a +gesture—before they went into that she would like to see Miss Maitland +and hear from her exactly what had occurred. Mr. Whitney, suavely +agreeable, sent a summons for Esther, then softly closed the door into +the room where Suzanne lay. +</p> + +<p> +"Mrs. Price is very bitter against her," he said in explanation. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Janney, too wrought up for polite hypocrisies, said brusquely: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, that's exactly like Suzanne. She has no balance at all. Of course +we can't blame Miss Maitland—it's not her fault." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Whitney dropped back into his revolving desk chair and swung it +toward her with a lurch of his body: +</p> + +<p> +"She tells a very clear story—extremely clear. I'll let you get your +own impression of it and then we'll have a talk with Mrs. Babbitts and +you can see—" +</p> + +<p> +A knock on the door interrupted him; in answer to his "Come in," Esther +entered. She halted a moment on the threshold, her eyes touching the +faces of her employers questioningly, as if she was not sure of her +reception. But Mrs. Janney's quick, "Oh, Miss Maitland, I want to see +you," brought her across the sill. Though she looked harassed and +distressed, her manner showed a restrained composure. She took a chair +facing them, meeting their glances with a steady directness. Mrs. +Janney's demand for information was promptly answered; indeed her +narrative was so devoid of unnecessary detail, so confined to +essentials, that it suggested something gone over and put in readiness +for the telling. +</p> + +<p> +She had taken Bébita to the dressmaker and the oculist, the child +accompanying her into both places. At the third stop, Justin's, she had +persuaded Bébita to stay in the taxi. She had left it at the curb and +had not been more than ten minutes in the store. When she came out it +was gone. She had spent some time looking for it, searched up and down +the street, and, though she was frightened, she could not believe +anything had happened. Her idea had been that Bébita, tired of waiting +or wanting to play a joke on her, had prevailed on the driver to return +to the Fifth Avenue house. She had hailed a cab and gone back there and +it was not till she saw Mrs. Price that she realized the real extent of +the calamity. Mrs. Price had been utterly overwhelmed, and, not knowing +what else to do, she had called up Grasslands for instructions. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Janney, who had been twisting and turning on his chair, burst out +with: +</p> + +<p> +"The man—the driver—did you notice him?" +</p> + +<p> +She lifted her hands and dropped them in her lap. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Mr. Janney, <i>of course</i> I didn't. Does any one <i>ever</i> look at those +men? He never got off his seat, opened the door by stretching his arm +round from the front. I have a sort of vague memory of his face when I +called him off the stand, and I think—but I can't be sure—that he wore +goggles." +</p> + +<p> +"It's needless to ask if you remember the number," Mrs. Janney said. +</p> + +<p> +The girl answered with a hopeless shake of the head. +</p> + +<p> +"You say you ran about looking for the taxi"—it was Mr. Janney +again—"Why did you waste that time?" +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Janney," she leaned toward him insistent, but with patience for his +afflicted state, "I thought it had gone somewhere farther along. You +know how they won't let the vehicles stand in Fifth Avenue. I supposed +it was down the block or round the corner on a side street. I asked the +doorman but he hadn't noticed. I looked in every direction and even when +I finally gave up and went after her I hadn't an idea that she'd been +<i>stolen</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"Time lost—all that time lost!" wailed the old man and began to cry. +</p> + +<p> +"Come, come, Mr. Janney," said Whitney, "don't despond. It's not as bad +as all that, and I'm pretty confident we'll have her back all right +before very long." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Janney, with his face in his handkerchief, emitted sounds that no +one could understand. His wife silenced him with a peremptory, "Be +quiet, Sam," and returned to Miss Maitland: +</p> + +<p> +"You say you dissuaded her from going into Justin's. Why did you do +that?" +</p> + +<p> +For the first time the girl lost her even poise. As she answered her +voice was unsteady: "We were so pressed for time and I knew I could get +through much quicker without her. That's why I did it—begged her to +stay in the taxi and she said she would,"—she stopped, biting on her +under lip, evidently unable to go on. +</p> + +<p> +There was a moment's silence broken by Mrs. Janney's voice low and grim: +</p> + +<p> +"The man heard you and knew that was his chance." +</p> + +<p> +Miss Maitland, her eyes down, the bitten lip showing red against its +fellow, said huskily: +</p> + +<p> +"You must blame me—you can't help it—but I'd rather have died than had +such a thing happen." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Janney began to give forth inarticulate sounds again and his wife +said with a sort of dreary resignation: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I don't blame you, Miss Maitland. Nobody does. Mrs. Price is not +responsible; she doesn't know what she's saying." +</p> + +<p> +"Of course, of course," came in Whitney's deep, bland voice, "we all +understand Mrs. Price's feelings—quite natural under the circumstances. +And Miss Maitland's too." He rose and pressed a bell near the door. "Now +if you've heard all you want I'll call in George and we'll talk this +over. And Miss Maitland," he turned to her, urbanely kind and courteous, +"could I trouble you to go back to Mr. Quincy's office; just for a +little while? We won't keep you waiting very long this time." +</p> + +<p> +A very dapper young man had answered the summons and under his escort +Esther withdrew. Whitney went to a third door connecting with his son's +rooms, opened it and said in a low voice: +</p> + +<p> +"George, go and get Molly. We're ready for her now." +</p> + +<p> +Coming back, he stood for a moment by the desk, and swept the faces of +his clients with a meaning look: +</p> + +<p> +"What you're going to hear from Mrs. Babbitts will be something of a +shock. She's unearthed several rather startling facts that in my opinion +bear on this present event and what led up to it. It's a peculiar +situation and involves not only Price but Miss Maitland." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Janney stared: +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Maitland and Chapman! What sort of a situation?" +</p> + +<p> +"At this stage I'll simply say mysterious. But I'm afraid, my dear +friend, that your confidence in the young woman has been misplaced. +However, before I go any further I'll let you hear what Mrs. Babbitts +has to say and draw your own conclusions." +</p> + +<p> +What Mrs. Babbitts had to say came not as one shock but as a series. +Mrs. Janney could not at first believe it; she had to be shown the notes +of the telephone message, and dropped them in her lap, staring from her +husband to Wilbur Whitney in aghast question. Mr. Janney seemed stunned, +shrunk in his clothes like a turtle in its shell. It was not until the +lawyer, alluding to the loss of the jewels, mentioned Miss Maitland's +possible participation either as the actual thief or as an accomplice, +that he displayed a suddenly vitalized interest. His body stretched +forward, and his neck craned up from its collar gave him more than ever +the appearance of a turtle reaching out of its shell, his voice coming +with a stammering urgency: +</p> + +<p> +"But—but—no one can be sure. We mustn't be too hasty. We can't condemn +the girl without sufficient evidence. Some one else may have been there +and—" +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Janney shut him off with an exasperated impatience: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Sam, don't go back over all that. I don't care who took them; I +don't care if I never see them again. It's only the child that matters." +Then to Whitney the inconsequential disposed of, "We must make a move at +once, but we must do it quietly without anything getting into the +papers." +</p> + +<p> +Whitney nodded: +</p> + +<p> +"That's my idea." +</p> + +<p> +"What are you going to do—go directly to him?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, not yet. Our first step will be made as you suggest, very quietly. +We're going to keep the matter out of the papers and away from the +police. Keep it to ourselves—do it ourselves. And I think—I don't want +to raise any false hopes—but I think we can lay our hands on Bébita +to-night." +</p> + +<p> +"How—where?" Mr. Janney's head was thrust forward, his blurred eyes +alight. +</p> + +<p> +"If you don't mind, I'm not going to tell you. I'm going to ask you to +leave it to me and let me see if my surmises are correct. If Chapman has +her where I think he has, I'll give her over to you by ten o'clock. If +I'm mistaken it will only mean a short postponement. He can't keep her +and he knows it." +</p> + +<p> +"The blackguard!" groaned the old man in helpless wrath. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Janney wasted neither time nor energy in futile passion. She +attacked another side of the situation. +</p> + +<p> +"What are we to do with Miss Maitland? You can't arrest her." +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly not. She's a very important person and we must have her under +our eye. You must treat her as if you entirely exonerated her from all +blame—maintain the attitude you took just now when talking with her. If +my immediate plan should fail our best chance of getting Bébita without +publicity and an ugly scandal will be through her. She must have no hint +of what we think, must believe herself unsuspected, and free to come and +go as she pleases." +</p> + +<p> +"You mean she's to stay on with us?" Mr. Janney's voice was high with +indignant protest. +</p> + +<p> +"Exactly—she remains the trusted employee with whose painful position +you sympathize. It won't be difficult, for you won't see much of her. +You'll naturally stay here in town till Bébita is found. What I intend +to do with her is to send her back to Grasslands with a competent +jailer—" he paused and pointed where Molly sat, silent and almost +forgotten. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment the Janneys eyed her, questioning and dubious, then Mrs. +Janney voiced their mutual thought: +</p> + +<p> +"Is Mrs. Babbitts, alone, a sufficient guard?" +</p> + +<p> +The lawyer smiled. +</p> + +<p> +"Quite. Miss Maitland doesn't want to run away. She knows too much for +that. No position could be better for our purpose than to leave +her—apparently unsuspected—alone in that big house. She will be +confident, possibly take chances." He turned on Molly, glowering at her +from under his overhanging brows. "The safest and quickest means of +communication with Grasslands, when the family is in town and the +servants ignorant of the situation, would be the telephone." +</p> + +<p> +That ended the conference. Mrs. Janney went to get Suzanne and Molly +received her final instructions. She was to return to Grasslands with +Miss Maitland, Ferguson could take them in his motor. She was to sit in +the back seat with the lady and casually drop the information that she +had come to town in answer to a wire from the Whitney office. She might +have seen suspicious characters lurking about the grounds or in the +woods. On no account was she to let her companion guess that Price was +suspected, and any remarks which might place the young woman more +completely at her ease, allay all sense of danger, would be valuable. +</p> + +<p> +They left the room and went into the entrance hall where Esther, and +presently Mrs. Janney, joined them. Whitney struck the note of a +reassuring friendliness in his manner to the girl, and the old people, +rather reservedly chimed in. She seemed grateful, thanked them, +reiterating her distress. In the elevator, going down, Molly noticed +that she fell into a staring abstraction, starting nervously as the iron +gate swung back at the ground floor. +</p> + +<p> +Ferguson, waiting on the curb, saw them as they emerged from the +doorway. His eyes leaped at the girl, and, as she crossed the sidewalk, +were riveted on her. Their expression was plain, yearning and passion no +longer disguised. If she saw the look she gave no sign, nodded to him, +and, leaving Molly to explain, climbed into the back seat and sunk in a +corner. Though the afternoon was hot she picked up the cloak lying on +the floor and drew it round her shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +The drive home was very silent. Molly gave the prescribed reasons for +her presence and heard them answered with the brief comments of +inattention. She also touched on the other matters and found her +companion so unresponsive that she desisted. It was evident that Esther +Maitland wanted to be left to her own thoughts. Huddled in the cloak, +her eyes fixed on the road in front, she sat as silent and enigmatic as +a sphinx. +</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xviiithe-house-in-gayle-street"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id20">CHAPTER XVIII—THE HOUSE IN GAYLE STREET</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">The Janney party left the office soon after Molly and Esther. They had +decided to stay at the St. Boniface hotel where rooms had already been +engaged, and, with Suzanne swathed in veils and clinging to her mother's +arm, they were escorted to the elevator and cheered on their way by the +two Whitneys. When the car slid out of sight the father and the son went +back into the old man's room. +</p> + +<p> +It was now late afternoon, the sun, sinking in a fiery glow, glazed the +waters of the bay, seen from these high windows like a golden floor. The +day, which had opened fresh and cool, had grown unbearably hot; even +here, far above the street's stifling level, the air was breathless. The +men, starting the electric fans, sat down to talk things over and wait. +For the machinery of "the move" spoken of by Wilbur Whitney already had +been set in motion. +</p> + +<p> +Immediately after Esther's telephone message O'Malley had been called up +and, with an assistant, dispatched to watch the Gayle Street house. As +Whitney had told his clients, the news of the child's disappearance had +hardly surprised him. Chapman's anger and threats portended some violent +action of reprisal, and, even as the lawyer had questioned what form it +might take, came the answer. Chapman had stolen his own child and had a +hiding place prepared and waiting for her reception. It was undoubtedly +only a temporary refuge, he would hardly keep her in such sordid +surroundings. The Whitneys saw it as a night's bivouac before a longer +flight. And that flight would never take place; every exit was under +surveillance, there was no possibility of escape. The two men, smoking +tranquilly under the breath of the electric fans, were quietly +confident. They would bring Chapman's vengeance to an abrupt end and +avert an ignominious family scandal. Meantime they awaited O'Malley—who +was to return to the office for George—and as they waited discussed the +kidnapping, knowledge supplemented by deductions. +</p> + +<p> +When Chapman had decided on it he had instructed Esther, telling her to +inform him when the opportunity offered. This she could do by letter, +or, if time pressed, by telephone from a booth in the village. The trip +to New York had been planned several days in advance and he had been +advised of it, its details probably telephoned in the day before. He—or +some one in his pay—had driven the taxi. It had been stationed in the +rank near the house, where in the dead season there were few vehicles +and from whence the extra one needed by Suzanne would naturally be +taken. That Esther, with a long list of commissions to execute, should +leave the child in the cab was an entirely natural proceeding. Her +explanation of her subsequent actions was also disarmingly plausible, +and the minutes thus expended gave the time necessary for the driver to +make his get-away. Before she had acquainted Suzanne with the news, the +child was hidden in the room at 76 Gayle Street. +</p> + +<p> +Whether the room was taken for this purpose was a question. If it was +then the idea had been in Chapman's mind for weeks—it was the "coming +back" he had hinted at when he left Grasslands. If, however, it had been +hired as a place of rendezvous with his confederate, it had assisted +them in the carrying out of their plot—might indeed have suggested it. +For as a lair in which to lie low it offered every advantage—secluded, +inconspicuous, the rest of the floor untenanted. They could keep the +child there without rousing a suspicion, for if Chapman was with +her—and they took for granted that he was—she would be contented and +make no outcry. She loved him and was happy in his society. +</p> + +<p> +"Poor devil!" growled the old man. "You can't help being sorry for him, +even if he did do it to hit back. It's his child and he's fond of her." +</p> + +<p> +George gave a short laugh: +</p> + +<p> +"I fancy it's more the hitting back than the fondness. Chapman's not +shown up lately in a very sentimental light. It wouldn't surprise me if +he'd ransom in the back of his mind. But we'll put an end to his +ambitions or parental longings or whatever's inspiring him." He looked +at his watch, then rose. "It's a quarter past seven and O'Malley's due +at the half hour. It's understood we're to bring the child here first?" +</p> + +<p> +His father gave an assenting grunt and hitched his chair into the +current of air from the fan. +</p> + +<p> +George turned on the lights, their tempered radiance flooding the room, +the windows starting out as black squares sewn with stars. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't quite see what I'm going to say to him," he muttered, a +sidelong eye on his father. +</p> + +<p> +"Say nothing," came the answer. "Bring the child back here—that's your +job. Leave him to me. Mrs. Janney and I'll have it out with him when the +time comes." +</p> + +<p> +On the tick of half-past seven O'Malley appeared. Trickles of +perspiration ran down his red face, and his collar was melted to a +sodden band. +</p> + +<p> +"Gee," he panted as he ran a handkerchief round his neck, "it's like a +Turkish bath down there in the street." +</p> + +<p> +"Well," said George, impatient of all but the main issue, "is it all +right?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yep—I've left two men in charge—every exit's covered. And there's +only one they could use—no way out back except over the fences and +through other houses." +</p> + +<p> +"He could hardly tackle that with a child." +</p> + +<p> +"He couldn't tackle it alone and make it—not the way I've got things +fixed. And I've worked out our line of action; Stebbins relieved me at +half-past six and I went and had a séance with the janitor. Said I was +coming round later with a man who was looking for a room—the room I'd +been inquiring about. That'll let us in quiet; right up to the top floor +and no questions asked." +</p> + +<p> +"The only hitch possible can come from Chapman—he may be ugly and show +his teeth." +</p> + +<p> +The old man answered: +</p> + +<p> +"I guess he'll be tractable. If he's inclined to argue bring him along +with you. It's after eight. I don't want to sit here half the night. Get +busy and go." +</p> + +<p> +O'Malley had a taxi waiting and they slid off up the deserted regions of +Broadway. After a few blocks they swerved to the left, plunging into a +congeries of mean streets where a network of fire-escapes encaged the +house fronts. The lights from small shops illumined the sidewalks, thick +with sauntering people. The taxi moved slowly, children darting from its +approach, swept round a corner and ran on through less animated lanes of +travel, upper windows bright, disheveled figures leaning on the sills, +vague groupings on front steps. At intervals, like the threatening voice +of some advancing monster, came the roar of the elevated trains, +sweeping across a vista with a rocking rush of light. O'Malley drew +himself to the edge of the sea and peered out ahead. +</p> + +<p> +"We're not far off now," he muttered. "We'll stop at the corner of the +block—there's a bookbinding place there that's dark and quiet. If we go +to the door they might catch on, get panicky, and make a row." +</p> + +<p> +At one end of the street's length the lamp-spotted darkness of +Washington Square showed like a spangled curtain. The cab turned from it +and crossed a wide avenue over which the skeleton structure of the +elevated straddled like a vast centipede. Beyond stretched a darkling +perspective touched at recurring intervals with the white spheres of +lamps. It was a propitious time, the evening overflow dispersed, the +loneliness of the deep night hours, when a footfall echoes loud and a +solitary figure looms mysterious, not yet come. +</p> + +<p> +The cab drew up at the curb by the shuttered face of the book bindery +and the man alighted. With a low command to the driver, O'Malley, George +beside him, walked up the block. From a shadowy doorway a figure +detached itself, slunk by them with a whispered hail and vanished. +Toward the street's far end they stopped at a door level with the +sidewalk, and O'Malley, bending to scrutinize a line of push buttons, +pressed one. +</p> + +<p> +"Is this the place?" George whispered, in startled revulsion. +</p> + +<p> +"This is the place. And a good one for Price's purpose as you'll see +when you get in." +</p> + +<p> +The young man noted the battered doorway, slightly out of plumb, then +stepped back and glanced at the façade. Many of the windows, uncurtained +and open, were lit up. Those of the top floor—dormers projecting from a +mansard roof—were dark. He was about to call O'Malley's attention to +this, when the sounds of footsteps within the house checked him. +</p> + +<p> +There was a rattling of locks and bolts and the door swung open +disclosing a man, grimy, old and bent, a lamp in his hand. He squinted +uncertainly at them, then growled irritably as he recognized O'Malley: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, it's you. I thought you wasn't comin'? If you'd been any later you +wouldn't 'a got me up." +</p> + +<p> +O'Malley explained that the gentleman was detained—couldn't get away +any earlier, very sorry, but they'd be quick and make no noise—just +wanted to see the rooms and get out. +</p> + +<p> +In single file, the janitor leading, they mounted the stairs. To the +aristocratic senses of George the place seemed abominable. The +staircase, narrow and without balustrade, ran up steeply between walls +once painted green, now blotched and smeared. At the end of the first +flight there was a small landing, a gas bracket holding aloft a tiny +point of flame. It was as hot as an oven, the stifling atmosphere +impregnated with mingled odors of cooking, stale cigar smoke, and the +mustiness of close, unaired spaces. +</p> + +<p> +On the second landing one of the doors was open, affording a glimpse of +a squalid interior, and a man in his shirt sleeves bent over a table +writing. He did not look up as they creaked by. From somewhere near, +muffled by walls, came the thin, frail tinkling of guitar strings. As +they ascended the temperature grew higher, the air held in the low attic +story under the roof, baked to a sweltering heat. The janitor muttered +an excuse—the top floor being vacant the windows were kept shut—it +would be cool enough when they were opened. +</p> + +<p> +He had gained the last landing, which broadened into a small square of +hall cut by three doors. As he turned to one on the left, O'Malley +slipped by him and drew away toward that on the right. There was a +moment of silence, broken by the clinking of the man's keys. He had +trouble in finding the right one and set his lamp down on a chair, his +head bent over the bunch. George was aware of O'Malley's figure casting +a huge wavering shadow up the wall, edging closer to the right hand +door. +</p> + +<p> +The key was found and inserted in the lock and the janitor entered the +room, his lamp diffusing a yellow aura in the midst of which he moved, a +black, retreating shape. With his withdrawal the light in the hall, +furnished by a bead of gas, faded to a flickering obscurity. O'Malley's +shadow disappeared, and George could see him as a formless oblong, +pressed against the panel. There was a moment of intense stillness, the +guitar tinkling faint as if coming through illimitable distances. The +detective's voice rose in a whisper, vital and intimate, against the +music's spectral thinness: +</p> + +<p> +"Queer. There's not a sound." +</p> + +<p> +His hand stole to the handle, clasped it, turned it. Noiselessly the +door opened upon darkness into which he slipped equally noiseless. +</p> + +<p> +That slow opening was so surprising, so dreamlike in its quality of the +totally unexpected, that George stood rooted. He stared at the square of +the door, waiting for voices, clamor, the anticipated in some form. Then +he saw the darkness pierced by the white ray of an electric torch and +heard a sound—a rumbled oath from O'Malley. It brought him to the +threshold. In the middle of the room, his torch sending its shaft over +walls and floor, stood the detective alone, his face, the light shining +upward on the chin and the tip of his nose, grotesque in its enraged +dismay. +</p> + +<p> +"Not here—d——n them!" and his voice trailed off into furious curses. +</p> + +<p> +"Gone?" The surprise had made George forgetful. +</p> + +<p> +"Gone—no!" The man almost shouted in his anger. "How could they +go?—Didn't I say every outlet was blocked. They ain't been here. They +ain't had her here. Get a match, light the gas—I got to see the place +anyway." +</p> + +<p> +The torch's ray had touched a gas fixture on the wall and hung steady +there. As the men fumbled for matches, the janitor came clumping across +the hall, calling in querulous protest: +</p> + +<p> +"Say—how'd you get in there? That ain't the place—it's rented." +</p> +<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure" style="margin-left: 27%; width: 45%" id="figure-4"> +<span id="his-face-was-ludicrous-in-its-enraged-enmity"/><img style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="His face was ludicrous in its enraged enmity" src="images/illus3.jpg" width="100%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +His face was ludicrous in its enraged enmity</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">He stopped in the doorway, scowling at them under the glow of his upheld +lamp. A match sputtered over the gas and a flame burst up with a +whistling rush. In the combined illumination the room was revealed as +bleak and hideous, the walls with blistered paper peeling off in shreds, +the carpet worn in paths and patches, an iron bed, a bureau, by the one +window, a table. The janitor continuing his expostulations, O'Malley +turned on him and flashed his badge with a fierce: +</p> + +<p> +"Shut up there. Keep still and get out. We've got a right here and if +you make any trouble you'll hear from us." +</p> + +<p> +The man shrank, scared. +</p> + +<p> +"Police!" he faltered, then looking from one to the other. "But what +for? There's no one here, there ain't ever been any one—it's took but +it's been empty ever since." +</p> + +<p> +O'Malley who had sent an exploring glance about him, made a dive for a +newspaper lying crumpled on the floor by the bed. One look at it, and he +was at the man's side, shaking it in his face: +</p> + +<p> +"What do you say to this? Yesterday's—how'd it get here? Blew in +through the window maybe." +</p> + +<p> +The janitor scanned the top of the page, then raised his eyes to the +watching faces. His fright had given place to bewilderment and he began +a stammering explanation—if any one had been there he'd never known it, +never seen no one come in or go out, never heard a sound from the +inside. +</p> + +<p> +"Did you see any one—any one that isn't a regular resident—come into +the house yesterday or to-day?" It was George's question. +</p> + +<p> +He didn't know as he'd seen anybody—not to notice. The tenants had +friends, they was in and out all day and part of the night. And anyway +he wasn't around much after he'd swept the halls and taken down the +pails. Yesterday and to-day he guessed he'd stayed in the basement most +of the time. If anybody had been in the room—and it looked like they +had—it was unbeknownst to him. The lady had the key; she could have +come in without him seeing; it wasn't his business to keep tab on the +tenants. He showed a tendency to diverge to the subject of his duties +and George cut him off with a greenback pushed into his grimy claw and +an order to keep their visit secret. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime O'Malley had started on an examination of the room. There was +more than the paper to prove the presence of a recent occupant. The bed +showed the imprint of a body; pillow and counterpane were indented by +the pressure of a recumbent form. On its foot lay a book, an unworn +copy, as if newly bought, of "The Forest Lovers." The table held an ink +bottle, the ink still moist round its uncorked mouth, some paper and +envelopes and a pen. There was a scattering of pins on the bureau, two +gilt hairpins and a black net veil, crumpled into a bunch. Pushed back +toward the mirror was the cover of the soap dish containing ashes and +the butts of four cigarettes. +</p> + +<p> +O'Malley studied the bureau closely, ran the light of his torch back and +forth across it, shook out the veil, sniffed it, and put it and the two +hairpins carefully into his wallet. Then with the book and the paper in +his hand he straightened up, turned to George, and said: +</p> + +<p> +"That about cleans it up. There's nothing for it now but to go back." +</p> + +<p> +The janitor, anxiously watchful, followed on their heels as they went +down the stairs. Their clattering descent was followed by the strains of +the guitar, thinly debonair and mocking as if exulting over their +discomfiture. In the street the same shape emerged from the shadows and +slouched toward them. A grunted phrase from O'Malley sent it drifting +away, spiritless and without response, like a lonely ghost come in timid +expectation and repelled by a rebuff. +</p> + +<p> +O'Malley dropped into a corner of the taxi and as it glided off, said: +</p> + +<p> +"That's the last of 76 Gayle Street as far as they're concerned." +</p> + +<p> +"Why do you say that?" +</p> + +<p> +In the darkness the detective permitted himself a sidelong glance of +scorn. +</p> + +<p> +"You don't leave the door unlocked in that sort of place unless you're +done with it. They've got all they wanted out of it and quit." +</p> + +<p> +"Abandoned it?" +</p> + +<p> +"That's right—made a neat, quiet get-away. They didn't say they were +going, didn't give up the key—it was on the inside of the door. Just +slid out and vanished." +</p> + +<p> +"Some one was there yesterday." +</p> + +<p> +"Um," O'Malley's voice showed a pondering concentration of thought. +"Some one was lying on the bed reading; waiting or passing time." +</p> + +<p> +"They couldn't have been there to-day—before your men were on the job?" +</p> + +<p> +O'Malley drew himself to the edge of the seat, his chest inflated with a +sudden breath: +</p> + +<p> +"Why couldn't they? Why couldn't <i>that</i> have been the rendezvous? Why +couldn't she have lost the child down here on Gayle Street instead of +opposite Justin's? Price was there beforehand: up she comes, tips him +off that the taxi's in the street, sees him leave and goes herself, +across to Fifth Avenue where she picks up a cab. It's safer than the +other way—no cops round, janitor in the basement, if she's seen nothing +to be remarked—a lady known to have a room on the top floor." He +brought his fist down on his knee. "That's what they did and it explains +what's been puzzling me." +</p> + +<p> +"What?" +</p> + +<p> +"There was no dust on the top of the bureau; it had been wiped off +to-day. There was no dust on that veil; it hadn't been there since +yesterday. A woman fixed herself at that glass not so long ago. Price +had a date with her to deliver the child and he was lying on the bed +reading while he waited. When he heard her he threw down the book, got +the good word and lit out. After he'd gone she took off her veil—what +for? To get her face up to show to Mrs. Price—whiten it, make it look +right for the news she was bringing. When she left she was made up for +the part she was to play. And I take my hat off to her, for she played +it like a star." +</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xixmolly-s-story"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id21">CHAPTER XIX—MOLLY'S STORY</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">It was nearly seven when we got back to Grasslands. We alighted as +silent as we started, and I was following Miss Maitland into the hall, +Ferguson behind me, when she turned in the doorway and spoke. She had +orders that the servants must know nothing; she was to tell them that +the family would stay in town for a few days, and for me to be careful +what I said before them. Then, before I could answer, she glanced at +Ferguson and said good-by, her eyes just touching him for a moment and +passing, cold and weary, back to me. She'd wish me good-night, she was +going to her room and not coming down again—no, thanks, she'd take no +dinner, she was very tired. She didn't need to say that. If I ever saw a +person dead beat and at the end of her string she was it. +</p> + +<p> +Ferguson stood looking after her. I think for the moment he forgot me, +or maybe he wasn't conscious of what his face showed. Some way or other +I didn't like to look at him; it was as if I was spying on something I +had no right to see. So I turned away and dropped into one of the +balcony chairs, sunk down against the back and feeling limp as a rag. +</p> + +<p> +Presently came his step and he was in front of me, his head bent down +with the hair hanging loose on his forehead, and his eyes like they were +hooks that would pull the words out of me: +</p> + +<p> +"What happened up there at the Whitneys?" +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Ferguson," I answered solemn, "I've told you more than I ought +already. Is it the right thing for me to go on doing wrong?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," he says, sharp and decided, "it's exactly the right thing. Keep +on doing it and we'll get somewhere." +</p> + +<p> +I set my lips tight and looked past him at the lawn. He waited a minute +then said: +</p> + +<p> +"I thought you agreed to trust me." +</p> + +<p> +"There's a good deal more to it now than there was then." +</p> + +<p> +"All the more reason for telling me. Of course I can get all I want from +Mrs. Janney or either of the Whitneys; they don't let ladylike scruples +stand in the way. But that means a trip to town and I'm not ready to +take it." +</p> + +<p> +It was surprising how that young man could make you feel like a worm who +had a conscience in place of common sense. +</p> + +<p> +"Have I got your word, sworn to on the Bible, if we had one here, not to +give her a hint of it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Good Lord!" he groaned. "Don't talk like the ingénue in a melodrama. +Let me see why the Whitneys think so much of you. You must have <i>some</i> +intelligence—give me a sample of it." +</p> + +<p> +That settled it. +</p> + +<p> +"Take a seat," I said. "You make me nervous staring at me like the lion +in the menagerie at the fat child." +</p> + +<p> +He sat down and I told him—the whole business, what she had said, what +they had thought—everything. When I'd finished he rose up and, with his +hands burrowed deep in his pockets, began pacing up and down the +balcony. I didn't give a peep, watching him cautious from under my +eyelids. +</p> + +<p> +After a bit he said in a low voice: +</p> + +<p> +"Preposterous—crazy! She had no more to do with it than you have." +</p> + +<p> +"They think different." +</p> + +<p> +"I've gathered that. And Price had nothing to do with it either." +</p> + +<p> +It was all very well for him to stand by her, but to sweep Price off the +map! I couldn't sit still and let him rave on. +</p> + +<p> +"Price hadn't? Take another guess. Price is the mainspring of it." +</p> + +<p> +"I'll leave guessing to you—it's your business, and you appear to do it +very well." +</p> + +<p> +"Say, drop me altogether. I'm only a paid servant. But you'll have to +admit that Mr. Whitney and his son count pretty big in their line." +</p> + +<p> +"Very big, Miss Rogers. But they've made a mistake this time—or +possibly been misled. The Janneys have never been fair to Price. They're +prejudiced and they've branded the prejudice on. He isn't an angel, +neither is he a rascal. He didn't take his child, he never thought of +it, he couldn't do it." +</p> + +<p> +"Then who did?" +</p> + +<p> +"That's what I want to find out." +</p> + +<p> +"Jerusalem!" I said, sitting up, feeling like the peaceful scene around +me was suddenly dark and strange. "You don't think she's <i>really</i> been +kidnaped?" +</p> + +<p> +"I can't think anything else." He stopped in front of me, looking at me +hard and stern. "I'd like to find another solution but I'm unable to." +</p> + +<p> +"But, gee-whizz!" I stared at him, all worried and mixed. "You can't get +away from the facts. They're all there—there's hardly a break." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't admit that. This man and woman have got characters and records +that haven't been considered—but even if you had a hole-proof case +against them I wouldn't believe it." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, pshaw!" I said, simmering down, "you just believe what you want to. +I've seen people like that before." +</p> + +<p> +"I daresay you have, I'm not a unique specimen in the human family. But +I'll tell you what I am just at this juncture—the only one among you +that's right." He drew back and gave a vengeful wag of his head at me. +"You've all gone off at half-cock—doing your best to ruin a man who's +harmless and a girl who's—who's—" he stopped, and wheeled away from +me. "Tch—it makes me sick! Hate and anger and jealousy—that's what's +at the bottom of it. I can't talk about it any longer—it's too beastly. +Good-night!" +</p> + +<p> +He turned on his heel, ran down the steps and over the grass, clearing +the terrace wall with a leap. I looked after him, fading into the early +night, disturbed and with a sort of cold heaviness in my heart. He was +no fool—suppose what he thought was true? Suppose that dear child whom +I'd grown to love—but, rubbish! I wouldn't think of it. It was easy to +account for the way he felt. Every little movement has a meaning of its +own—and the meaning in all his little movements was love. He had it +bad, poor chap, out on him like the measles, and while you have to be +gentle with the sick you don't pay much attention to what they say. +</p> + +<p> +That was a dreary evening. There being no one but me around they served +my dinner in the dining room, and it added to the strain. Some of the +food I didn't know whether to eat with a fork or a spoon, so I had to +pass up a lot which was hard seeing I was hungry. But when you're born +in an east side tenement you feel touchy that way—I wasn't going to be +criticized by two corn-fed menials. I'm glad I'm not rich; it's grand +all right, but it isn't comfortable. +</p> + +<p> +The next day—Saturday—it rained and I sat round in the hall and my +room where I could hear the 'phone and keep an eye on Miss Maitland. All +she did was to go for a walk, and in the afternoon stay in her study. We +saw each other at meals, our conversation specially edited for Dixon and +Isaac. +</p> + +<p> +Sunday was fine weather again and Ferguson came round at twelve. Miss +Maitland had gone for another walk and he and I had the hall to +ourselves. He'd been in town the day before, seen George Whitney and +told him what he thought. When I asked how Mr. George took it, he gave a +sarcastic smile and said, "He listened very politely but didn't seem +much impressed." He also told me they'd hoped to find the child Friday +night in the room at 76 Gayle Street and had been disappointed. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course she wasn't there," and he ended with "it was only wasting +valuable time, but there's a proverb about none being so blind as those +who won't see." +</p> + +<p> +After that he dropped the subject—I think he wanted to get away from +it—and pow-wowing together we worked around to the robbery, which had +been side-tracked by the bigger matter. He said it had been in his mind +to tell me a curious circumstance that he'd come on the night the jewels +were taken and that he thought might be helpful to me. It was about a +cigar band that Miss Maitland had found in the woods that evening when +he and she had walked home together. Before he was half through I was +listening attentive as a cat at a mouse hole, for it was a queer story +and had possibilities. After I put some questions and had it all clear, +we mulled it over—the way I love to do. +</p> + +<p> +"A man dropped it," I said slowly, my thoughts chasing ahead of my +words, "who went through the woods after the storm." +</p> + +<p> +"Exactly—between eight-thirty and ten-thirty. And do you grasp the fact +that those were the hours the house was vacated—the logical time to rob +it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I've thought of that often—wondered why they waited." +</p> + +<p> +"And do you grasp another fact—that Hannah a little before nine heard +the dogs barking and then quieting down as if they scented some one they +knew?" +</p> + +<p> +I nodded; that too I'd made a mental note of. +</p> + +<p> +"It couldn't have been Price for he was on the way to town then." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Price—" he gave an impatient jerk of his head—"of course it +wasn't Price, but it <i>was</i> some one the dogs knew. That would have been +just about the time a man, watching the house and seeing the ground +floor dark, would have come across the lawn to make his entrance." +</p> + +<p> +I pondered for a spell then said: +</p> + +<p> +"Did you ever tell this to Mrs. Janney or any of them?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, I didn't think of it myself until a little while ago—the night I +dined here and saw it was one of Mr. Janney's cigars. And then what was +the use—the light by the safe had fixed the time." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—if it wasn't for that light you'd have got a real lead. Too bad, +for it's a bully starting point, and it would have let out those other +two." +</p> + +<p> +He stiffened up, suddenly haughty looking. +</p> + +<p> +"There's no necessity of letting out people who never were in. But if +that light was eliminated you could work on the theory that a +professional thief—an expert safe opener—had done the business." +</p> + +<p> +"How would the dogs know <i>him</i>?" I asked. +</p> + +<p> +He leaned toward me, looking with a quiet sort of meaning into my face: +</p> + +<p> +"Suppose you put that mind of yours, that Wilbur Whitney values so +highly and I'm beginning to see indications of, on that question." +</p> + +<p> +"What's the sense of wasting it? My mind's my capital and I don't draw +on it unless there's a need. You get rid of that light at one-thirty and +I'll expend some of it." +</p> + +<p> +I laughed, but he didn't, looking on the ground frowning and thoughtful. +Then a step on the balcony made us both turn. It was Miss Maitland, back +from her walk, looking much better, a smile at the sight of him, and a +little color in her face. She joined us and, Dixon announcing lunch, +Ferguson invited himself to stay. It was the first human meal I'd eaten +since the doors of the dining room had opened to me. +</p> + +<p> +After lunch I left them on the balcony and went upstairs to my room. I +tried to read but the air, blowing in warm and sweet and the scent of +the garden coming up, made the book seem dull, and I went to the window +and leaned out. +</p> + +<p> +A while passed that way and then I saw Ferguson going home, a long +figure in white flannels striding across the lawn to the wood path. Then +out from the kitchen come the servants, all togged up, six girls and +Isaac, and away they go on their bikes to the beach. From what I've seen +of the homes of the rich I'd rather be in the kitchen than the +parlor—the help have it all over the quality for plain enjoyment. They +went off bawling gayly, and presently Dixon appears, looking like a +parson on his day off, all brisk and cheerful. Last of all comes Hannah, +her hair as slick as a seal's, a dinky little hat set on top of it, and +a parasol held over it all. She waddled off, large and slow, in another +direction, toward the woods—for a cup of tea and a neighborly gossip in +Ferguson's kitchen, I guess. How I wished I was along with them! +</p> + +<p> +There I was left, lolling back and forth on the sill, kicking with my +toes on the floor, and wondering what my poor, deserted boy was doing in +town. Then sudden, piercing the stillness with a sort of tingling +thrill, comes the ring of the hall telephone. +</p> + +<p> +I gave a soft jump, snatched up my pad and pencil, and was at the table +and had the receiver off before she'd got to the closet downstairs. It +was so quiet, not a sound in the house, that I could hear every catch in +her breath and every tone in her voice. And what I heard was worth +listening to. A man spoke first: +</p> + +<p> +"Hello, who's this?" +</p> + +<p> +"Esther Maitland. Is it—is it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—C. P. I've waited until now as I knew there wouldn't be anybody +around. It's all right." +</p> + +<p> +"Truly. You're not saying it to keep me quiet?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not a bit. There's no need for any worry. Everything's gone without a +hitch." +</p> + +<p> +"And you think it's safe—to—to—take the next step?" +</p> + +<p> +"Perfectly. We're going to get her out of town on Tuesday night." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh!" I could hear the relief in her voice. "You don't know what this +means to me?" +</p> + +<p> +He gave a little, dry laugh: +</p> + +<p> +"Me too—I'll admit it's been something of a strain. That's all I wanted +to say. Good-by." +</p> + +<p> +I scratched it on the pad, and tiptoed back to my room, short of breath +a bit myself. What would Ferguson say to this? I stood by the window, +thinking how to send it in, and things went right for out she came from +the balcony and walked across to a place on the lawn where there were +some chairs under a group of maples. She sat down and began to read, and +I stole back to the hall and took a call for the Whitney house. Being +Sunday they might be out, but that went right too, for I got the Chief +himself. I told him and asked for instructions and they came straight +and quick: +</p> + +<p> +"Bring her into town to-morrow morning. There's a train at nine-thirty +you can take. Get a taxi at the depot and come right up to the office. +You'll have to tell her in what capacity you're serving the family. +That'll be easy—you were engaged for the robbery. Don't let her think +you have any interest in the kidnaping, and on no account let her guess +we suspect her. Say you've had a message from me, that some new facts +have come in and I want to ask her a few questions—see if the +information tallies with what she saw. Keep her quiet and calm. Got that +straight? All right—so long." +</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xxmolly-s-story"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id22">CHAPTER XX—MOLLY'S STORY</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">The next morning, in the hall, right after breakfast I told her what I +had to tell—I mean who I was. It gave her a start—held her listening +with her eyes hard on mine—then when I explained it was for inside work +on the robbery she eased up, got cool and nodded her head at me, +politely agreeing. She understood perfectly and would go wherever she +was wanted; she was glad to do anything that would be of assistance; no +one was more anxious than she to help the family in their distress, and +so forth and so on. +</p> + +<p> +On the way in she was quiet, but I don't think as peaceful as she acted. +She asked me some questions about my work. I answered brisk and bright +and she said it must be a very interesting profession. I've seen nervy +people in my time but no woman that beat her for cool sand, and the way +I'm built I can't help but respect courage no matter what the person's +like who has it. Before we reached town I was full of admiration for +that girl who, as far as I could judge, was a crook from the ground up. +</p> + +<p> +When we reached the office I was called into an inner room where the +Chief and Mr. George were waiting. I gave them my paper with the 'phone +message on it, and answered the few questions they had to ask. I learned +then that they'd got hold of more evidence against her. O'Malley had +snooped round the Gayle Street locality and heard that on Friday morning +about half-past eleven a taxi, containing a child resembling Bébita, had +been seen opposite a book bindery on the corner of the block. I didn't +hear any particulars but I saw by the Chief's manner, quiet and sort of +absorbed, and by Mr. George, like a blue-ribbon pup straining at the +leash, that they had Esther Maitland dead to rights and the end was in +sight. +</p> + +<p> +After that I was sent back into the hall where I'd left her and told to +bring her into the old man's private office. We went up the passage, a +murmur of voices growing louder as we advanced. She was ahead and, as +the door opened, she stopped for a moment on the threshold, quick, like +a horse that wants to shy. Over her shoulder I could see in, and I don't +wonder she pulled up—any one would. There, beside the Chief and Mr. +George, were the two old Janneys and Mrs. Price, sitting stiff as +statues, each of them with their eyes on her, gimlet-sharp and +gimlet-hard. They said some sort of "How d'ye do" business and made bows +like Chinese mandarins, but their faces would have made a chorus girl +get thoughtful. I guessed then they knew about the tapped message and +had come to see Miss Maitland get the third degree. She scented the +trouble ahead too—I don't see how she could have helped it; there was +thunder in the air. But she said good-morning to them, cordial and easy, +and walked over to the chair Mr. George pushed forward for her. +</p> + +<p> +Sitting there in the midst of them, she looked at the Chief, politely +inquiring, and I couldn't help but think she was a winner. Mrs. Price, +all weazened up and washed out, was like a cosmetic advertisement beside +her. She held herself very straight, her hands folded together in her +lap, her head up cool and proud. She had on the white hat with the +wreath of grapes and a wash-silk dress of white with lilac stripes that +set easy over her fine shoulders, and, believe me, bad or good, she was +a thoroughbred. +</p> + +<p> +The Chief, turning himself round toward her with a hitch of his chair, +began as bland and friendly as if they'd just met at a tea-fest. +</p> + +<p> +"We're very sorry to bother you again, Miss Maitland. But certain facts +have come up since you were here that make it necessary for me to ask +you a few more questions." +</p> + +<p> +She just inclined her head a little and murmured: +</p> + +<p> +"It's no bother at all, Mr. Whitney. I'm only too anxious to help in any +way I can." +</p> + +<p> +Honest-to-God I think the Chief got a jar; the words came as smooth and +as cool as cream just off the ice. For a second he looked at his desk +and moved a paper knife very careful, as if it was precious and he was +afraid of breaking it. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm glad to hear you say that, Miss Maitland. It's not only what one +would expect you to feel, but it makes me sure that you will be willing +to explain certain circumstances concerning yourself and +your—er—activities—that have—well—er—rather puzzled us." +</p> + +<p> +It was my business to watch her and even if it hadn't been I couldn't +have helped doing it. I saw just two things—the light strike white +across the breast of her blouse where a quick breath lifted it, and, for +a second, her hands close tight till the knuckles shone. Then they +relaxed and she said very softly: +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly. I'll explain anything." +</p> + +<p> +"Very good. I was sure you would." He leaned forward, one arm on the +desk, his big shoulders hunched, his eyes sharp on her but still very +kind. "We have discovered—of course you'll understand that our +detectives have been busy in all directions—that nearly a month ago you +took a room at 76 Gayle Street. Now that I should ask about this may +seem an unwarranted impertinence, but I would like to know just why you +took that room." +</p> + +<p> +There was a slight pause. Mrs. Price, who was sitting next to me, an +empty chair in front of her, rustled and in the moment of silence I +could hear her breathing, short and catchy, like it was coming hard. +Miss Maitland, who, as the Chief had spoken, had dropped her eyes to her +hands, looked up at him: +</p> + +<p> +"I have no objection to telling you. I took it for a school friend of +mine—Aggie Brown, a girl I hadn't seen for years. A month ago she wrote +me from St. Louis and told me she was coming to New York to study art +and asked me to engage a room for her. She said she had very little +money and it must be inexpensive. I had heard of that place from other +girls—that it was respectable and cheap—so I engaged the room. It so +happens that my friend is not yet in New York. She was delayed by +illness in her family." +</p> + +<p> +I sent a look around and caught them like pictures going quick in a +movie—Mr. Janney glimpsing sideways, worried and frowning, at his wife, +Mr. George, his arm on the back of his chair, pulling at his little +blonde mustache and twisting his mouth around, and the Chief pawing +absent-minded after the paper knife. Miss Maitland, with her chin up and +her shoulders square, had her eye on him, attentive and steady, like a +soldier waiting for orders. +</p> + +<p> +Then out of the silence came Mrs. Janney's voice, rumbling like distant +thunder: +</p> + +<p> +"But you went to that room yourself?" +</p> + +<p> +The Chief's hand made a quick wave at her for silence. Miss Maitland +didn't seem to notice it; she turned to Mrs. Janney and answered: +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, several times, Mrs. Janney. I'd had to pay the rent in advance and +I had a key, so when I was in town and had time to spare I went there. +It was quiet and convenient—I used to write letters and read." +</p> + +<p> +"Would you mind telling me why Mr. Chapman Price went there too?" +</p> + +<p> +It was the Chief's voice this time, quite low and oh, so deep and mild. +Miss Maitland's attitude didn't change, but again her hands clasped and +stayed clasped. She gave a little, provocative smile, almost as if she +was trying to flirt with him, and said: +</p> + +<p> +"You seem to know a great deal about me and my affairs, Mr. Whitney." +</p> + +<p> +He returned the smile, good-humored, as if he liked the way she'd come +back at him. +</p> + +<p> +"A little, Miss Maitland. You see we have had to, unpleasant but still +necessary—you have no objection to answering?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, not the least, only—" her glance swept over the solemn faces of +the others—"I'm afraid Mrs. Janney may not approve of what I've done. I +met Mr. Price there to tell him about Bébita; I was sorry for him, for +the position he was in. He was fond of her and he heard almost nothing +about her. So I arranged to give him news of her, tell him how she was, +and little funny things she had said. It wasn't the right thing to do +but I—I—pitied him so." +</p> + +<p> +A sound—I can't call it anything but a grunt—came from Mrs. Janney. +Mr. George, still pulling at his mustache, shifted uneasily in his +chair. Beside me I could hear that stifled breathing of Mrs. Price, and +her hand, all covered with rings, stole forward and clasped like a +bird's claw on the chair in front. I don't think Miss Maitland noticed +any of this. Her eyes were on the Chief, fixed and sort of defiant. Her +face had lost its calm look; there were pink spots on her cheek bones. +</p> + +<p> +"A natural thing to do," said the Chief mildly, "though hardly discreet +considering the situation. But we won't argue about that—we'll pass on +to the business of the moment. Now you told us last time you were here +that you left the taxi in front of Justin's. Inquiries there of the +doorman have elicited the information that he remembers the cab and the +child, and says it was still there when you came out and that you got +into it and drove away." +</p> + +<p> +"How can the doorman at a place where hundreds of carriages stop every +day remember the people in each one?" All the softness was gone out of +her voice and her face began to look different, as if it had grown +thinner. "It's absurd—he couldn't possibly be sure of every woman and +child who stopped there. My word is against his, and it seems to me I'm +much more likely to know what I did than he is—especially <i>that</i> day." +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly, certainly." The Chief was all kindly understanding. "Under +the circumstances every event of that morning should be impressed on +your memory. But another fact has come up that seems to us curious. One +of our detectives has heard from a clerk in a book bindery at the corner +near 76 Gayle Street, that on Friday last, at about half-past eleven, he +saw a taxi standing at the curb there. He noticed a child in it talking +to the driver and his description of this child, her appearance and +clothes, is a very accurate description of Bébita." +</p> + +<p> +He looked at her over his glasses, with a sort of ominous, waiting +attention. I'd have wilted under it, but she didn't, only what had been +a restrained quietness gave place to a sort of steely tension. You could +see that her body all over was as rigid as the hands clenched together, +the fingers knotted round each other. It was will and a fighting spirit +that kept her up. I began to feel my own muscles drawing tight, +wondering if she'd get through and praying that she would—I don't know +why. +</p> + +<p> +"It's quite possible that this man—this clerk—may have seen such a +taxi with such a child in it. There must be a great many little girls in +New York whose description would fit Bébita. I dare say if your +detective had gone about the city he would have heard of any number of +cabs and children that would have fitted just as well. I can't imagine +why you're asking me these questions or why you don't seem to believe +what I say. But even if you don't believe it, that won't prevent me from +sticking to it." +</p> + +<p> +"A commendable spirit, Miss Maitland, when one is sure of one's facts," +said the Chief, and suddenly pushing back his chair he rose. "Now I've +just one more matter to call to your attention, a little memorandum +here, which, if you'll be good enough to explain, we'll end this rather +trying interview." +</p> + +<p> +He went over to her, fumbling in his vest pocket, and then drew out my +folded paper and put it into her hand: +</p> + +<p> +"It's the record of a telephone message received by you yesterday at +Grasslands, and tapped by our detective, Miss Rogers." +</p> + +<p> +He stepped back and stood leaning against the desk watching her. We all +did; there wasn't an eye in that room which wasn't glued on that +unfortunate girl as she opened the paper and read the words. +</p> + +<p> +It was a knock-out blow. I knew it would be—I didn't see how it +couldn't—and yet she'd put up such a fight that some way or other I +thought she'd pull out. But that bowled her over like a nine pin. +</p> + +<p> +She turned as white as the paper and her hands holding it shook so you +could hear it rustle. Then she looked up and her eyes were +awful—hunted, desperate. Yet she made a last frantic effort, with her +face like a death mask and all the breath so gone out of her she had +only a hoarse thread of voice: +</p> + +<p> +"I—I—don't know what this is—oh, yes, yes, I mean I do. But it—it +refers to something else—it's—it's—that friend of mine—Aggie Brown +from St. Louis—she's come and Mr. Price—" +</p> + +<p> +She couldn't go on; her lips couldn't get out any words. You could see +the brain behind them had had such a shock it wouldn't work. +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Maitland," said the Chief, solemn as an executioner, "we've got +you where you can't keep this up. There's no use in these evasions and +denials. Where is Bébita?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know—I don't know anything about her. I swear to Heaven I +don't." +</p> + +<p> +She raised her voice with the last words and looked at them, round at +those stony faces, wild like an animal cornered. +</p> + +<p> +"What's the matter with you? Why do you think I'd be a party to such a +thing? Why don't you believe me—why <i>can't</i> you believe me? And you +don't—not one of you. You think I'm guilty of this infamous thing. All +right, <i>think</i> it. Do what you like with me—arrest me, put me in jail, +I don't care." +</p> + +<p> +She put her hands over her face and collapsed down in her chair, like a +spring that had held her up had broken. That breathing beside me had +grown so loud it sounded as if it came from some one running the last +lap of a race. Now it suddenly broke into a sound—more like a growl +than anything else—and Mrs. Price got up, shuffling and shaking, her +hands holding on to the chair in front. +</p> + +<p> +"She ought to be put in jail," she gasped out. "She's bad right +through—everything she's said is a lie. And she's a thief too." +</p> + +<p> +There was a movement of consternation among them all—getting up, +pushing back chairs, several voices speaking together: +</p> + +<p> +"Keep quiet." +</p> + +<p> +"Mrs. Price, I beg of you—" +</p> + +<p> +"Suzanne, sit down." +</p> + +<p> +But she went on, looking like a withered old witch, with her bird-like +hands clutched on the chair back: +</p> + +<p> +"I won't sit down, I won't keep quiet. I've sat here listening to all +this and I've had enough. I'm crazy; my baby's gone; she's taken it, +she's taken everything—" She turned to her mother. "She took your +jewels—I know it." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Janney burst in like a bombshell. I never thought he could break +loose that way, with his voice shrill and a shaking finger pointing into +his stepdaughter's face. +</p> + +<p> +"Stop this. I can't stand for it—I know something about that—I saw—" +</p> + +<p> +But she wouldn't stop, no one could make her: +</p> + +<p> +"I saw too, and I'm going to tell you. I don't care what you say, I +don't care what you think of me—my heart's broken and I don't care for +anything but to have my baby back." She addressed her mother again. "<i>I</i> +went to take your jewels that night. Yes, I did; I went to steal +them—not all of them—just that long diamond chain you never wear. +<i>You</i> know why; you knew I hadn't any money and that I had to have it. I +was going to sell it and put what I got in stocks and if I was lucky buy +it back so you'd never know. It was <i>I</i> who took Bébita's torch—that's +why it was lost—and I went down to the safe. I'd found the combination +in a drawer in the library and learnt it. And when I opened it +everything was gone. Some one had been there before me, the cases were +all together in their box but they were empty." She clawed at the +embroidered purse hanging on her arm and began to jerk at the cord, +pulling it open. "But I found something, something the thief had +dropped, lying on the floor just inside the door." She drew out a twist +of tissue paper, and unrolling it held it toward the Chief; "I found +<i>that</i>." +</p> + +<p> +He took it, scrutinizing it, puzzled, through his glasses. Every one of +us except Miss Maitland, all standing now, craned forward to see. It was +a pointed pink thing about as big as the end of my little finger. The +Chief touched it and said: +</p> + +<p> +"It looks like a small rose." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, a chiffon rosebud," Mrs. Price cried, "and she," pointing to Miss +Maitland, "wore a dress that night trimmed with them." +</p> + +<p> +We all turned, as if we were a piece of mechanism worked by the same +spring, and stared at Miss Maitland. She sat in the chair, not moving, +looking straight before her, weary and indifferent. The Chief held out +toward her the piece of paper with the rose on the middle of it. +</p> + +<p> +"Have you a dress trimmed with these?" +</p> + +<p> +She moved her eyes so they rested on the rose, ran her tongue along her +lips and said: +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"Did you wear it on the night of the robbery?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"Did you hear what Mrs. Price has just said?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"What explanation do you make?" +</p> + +<p> +"None—except that I don't know how it got there." +</p> + +<p> +"You deny that you were there yourself that night?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—I was never near the safe that night; I haven't the slightest idea +how the rose came to be in it; I never took the jewels; I have had +nothing to do with Bébita's disappearance; I haven't done any of the +things you think I've done. But what's the good of my saying so—what's +the good of answering at all?" She dropped her face into her hands, her +elbows propped on her knees. The attitude, the tone of her voice, +everything about her, suggested an "Oh-what's-the-use!" feeling. From +behind her hands the words came dull and listless. "Do anything you like +with me; it doesn't make any difference. You think you've got me +cornered; that being the case, I'll do whatever you say." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Janney made a step toward her: +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Maitland, I'll agree to let the whole matter drop—hush it up and +let you go without a word—if you'll tell us where Bébita is." +</p> + +<p> +Without moving her hands the girl answered: +</p> + +<p> +"I can't tell, for I don't know." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Price sank into her chair with a loud, sobbing wail. Some one took +her away—Mr. George, I think. Then Mr. Janney had his say: +</p> + +<p> +"If you're doing this to protect Price—" +</p> + +<p> +She cut him off with a laugh, at least it was meant to be a laugh, but +it was a horrible, harsh sound. As she gave it she lifted her head and +cast a look at him, bitter and defiant: +</p> + +<p> +"Protect him! I've no more desire to protect Mr. Price than I have to +protect myself." +</p> + +<p> +The Chief's voice fell deep as the church bell at a funeral: +</p> + +<p> +"If you maintain this attitude, Miss Maitland, there's nothing for us to +do but let the law take its course. Theft and kidnaping! Those are +pretty serious charges." +</p> + +<p> +She nodded: +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose they are. Let the law do whatever it wants; I'm certainly not +standing in its way. But as for bribing and frightening me into +admitting what isn't true, you can't do it. All your money," she looked +at Mrs. Janney and then at the Chief, "and all <i>your</i> threats won't +influence me or make me change one word of what I've said." +</p> + +<p> +No one spoke for a minute. She sat silent, her chin on her hands, her +eyes staring past them out of the window. I had a feeling that in spite +of the position she was in and what they had on her, in a sort of way +she had them beaten. Their faces were glum and baffled, even the Chief +had an abstracted expression like he was thinking what he ought to do +with her. When he spoke it was to the Janneys: +</p> + +<p> +"Since Miss Maitland persists in her present pose of ignorance and +denial, the best thing for us is to get together and decide on our +course of action." He glanced across at me. "We'll leave you here, +Molly. Stay till we come back." +</p> + +<p> +Away they went, a solemn procession, trailing across the room. When the +door into the main office opened I could hear Mrs. Price crying, and I +watched them, catching Mrs. Janney's words as she disappeared: "Oh, +Suzanne, my poor, poor, girl! Don't give up—don't be discouraged—we'll +find her!" +</p> + +<p> +It gripped me, made a sort of prickling come in my nose and a twisty +feeling in my under lip. I never could have believed that stern old +Roman could have spoken so tender and loving to any one. +</p> + +<p> +When I looked at Miss Maitland I forgot all about suffering mothers. +She'd sunk down in the chair, her head resting against its back, her +eyes closed. She was as white as a corpse, and I wheeled about looking +round the room for some kind of first aid and muttering, "Gee, she's +fainted!" +</p> + +<p> +A whisper came out of her lips: +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing—all right—in a minute." +</p> + +<p> +There was a bottle of distilled water in a corner and I went to it, drew +off a glass and brought it to her. She couldn't hold it and I took her +round the shoulders and pulled her up, saying out of the inner depths +of me, that's always mushy about anything hurt and forlorn: +</p> + +<p> +"You, poor soul, here take this. I'm sorry for you, and I can't help +being sorry that I had to give you away." +</p> + +<p> +I held the glass to her lips and she drank a little. Then I let her fall +back and stood watching her, and I felt mean. She raised her eyes and +sent a look into mine that I'll never forget—it made me feel meaner +than a yellow dog—for it was the look of a suffering soul. +</p> + +<p> +"Thanks," was all she said. +</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xxisigned-clansmen"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id23">CHAPTER XXI—SIGNED "CLANSMEN"</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">The consultation in the office resulted in Esther Maitland being taken +to O'Malley's flat in Stuyvesant Square, where his wife and sister +agreed to be responsible for her. This course had been decided upon +after some heated argument. Suzanne had clamored for her arrest, but the +others were still determined to keep the affair out of the public eye, +which, if Esther was brought before a magistrate, would have been +impossible. The Janneys were more than ever convinced that Price was the +prime mover, and the girl's attitude had been prompted by the combined +motives of love and gain. George, who knew his father's every phase, +noticed that the old man was reserved in his comments, and wondered if +his conviction had been shaken by Miss Maitland's desperate denials. But +if it was he said nothing, agreeing that with the girl hidden and unable +to communicate with the outside world, they could concentrate their +attention on Chapman and through him locate the child. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Maitland was docile to all their suggestions. She would go +wherever they wanted, place herself under the surveillance of the two +women, and do whatever was asked of her. She went off in a taxi with +O'Malley, and Molly was sent back to Grasslands. There was no need of +her services in town and it was probable that Chapman, believing his +confederate to be there, would call up the place. +</p> + +<p> +The Janney party returned to the hotel, a silent, gloomy trio. The old +people were very gentle to Suzanne. On the drive up, Mrs. Janney held +her in the hollow of her arm, pressed close, yearning over her in her +shame and sorrow and feebleness. To the strong woman she was a child +again, a soft, helpless thing. The mother blamed herself for having been +hard on her. +</p> + +<p> +After lunch old Sam suggested a drive—the air would do them good. They +tried to persuade Suzanne to come, but the young woman, prone on the +sofa, a salts bottle at hand, refused to stir. She wanted to be quiet; +she wanted to rest. So, knowing the uselessness of argument, they kissed +her and went. +</p> + +<p> +Alone, she lay on her back staring at the wall in a trance-like +concentration. Her expression did not suggest the state of crushed shame +under which her parents thought she languished. In fact her past actions +had no place in her mind; she had forgotten her confession in the +office. An idea, formidable and obsessing, had taken possession of her, +settled on her like a shadow. It was possible that their conclusions +were wrong. +</p> + +<p> +She had had it from the start, off and on, coming at her in rushes of +disintegrating doubt. She had said nothing about it, had tried to force +it down, and, talking to them, had been reassured by their unquestioning +certainty. Now the scene in the office had strengthened it—something +about Esther Maitland, she didn't know what. She had assured herself +then—she tried to do it now—that there could be no mistake, they had +proofs, the girl hadn't been able to explain anything. But she could not +argue it away; it persisted, stronger than thought, power or will, +unescapable like the horror of a dream. +</p> + +<p> +It came from an instinct that kept whispering deep down in the recesses +of her being, "Chapman couldn't have done it." She knew him better than +the others did, the vagaries of his ugly temper, the lines his +weaknesses ran upon. She knew him through and through, to what lengths +anger might urge him, what he could do when aroused and what he never +could do. And trying to convince herself of his guilt, marshaling the +facts against him, going over them point by point, she couldn't make +herself believe that he had stolen Bébita. +</p> + +<p> +And if he hadn't, then where was she? +</p> + +<p> +This was the hideous thought, pressing in upon her recognition, +intrusive as Banquo's ghost and as terrible. She writhed under its +torment, twisting and turning until her clothes were wound about her in +a tangled coil, moaning as her imagination touched at and recoiled from +grisly possibilities. +</p> + +<p> +She was lying thus when the door-bell rang. Glad of any interruption she +sat up, and, swinging her feet to the floor, called out a sharp "Come +in." A bell-boy entered with a letter which he presented with the +information that Mr. Janney had ordered all mail to be brought +immediately to the rooms. The letter was for her, addressed in +typewriting, and as the boy withdrew she rose, heavy-eyed and +heavy-headed, and tore open the envelope. The first line brought a thin, +choked cry out of her, and then she stood motionless, her glance +devouring the words. Dated the day before, typewritten on a single sheet +of commercial paper, it ran as follows: +</p> +<blockquote><div> +<p class="pfirst">"Mrs. Suzanne Price, +</p> + +<p> +"<span class="small-caps"> +Dear Madam:</span> +</p> + +<p> +"We have your little girl. She is safe with us and will continue +to be if you act in good faith and accede to our demands. We +frankly state that our object in taking her was ransom and we +are now ready to enter upon negotiations with you. This, +however, only upon certain conditions. All transactions between +us must be conducted with absolute secrecy. If any member of +your family is told, if the police are notified, be assured +that we will know it, and that it will react upon your child. +Let it be clearly understood—if you inform against us, if you +make an attempt to trap or apprehend us, she will pay the +price. We hold her as a hostage; her fate is in your hands. If, +however, you know of a person in no wise involved or connected +with you or your family, having no personal interest in the +matter, and of whose discretion and reliability you are +convinced, we are willing to deal through them. Copy the form +below, fill in blank spaces with name and address and insert in +<i>Daily Record</i> personals. +</p> + +<p> +"(Name).................................. +</p> + +<p> +"(Address)............................... +</p> + +<p> +"S. O. S. +</p> + +<p> +"<span class="small-caps"> +Clansmen.</span>" +</p> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">Suzanne's hand holding the paper dropped to her side and she looked +about the room with eyes vacant and unseeing. All her outward forces +were shocked into temporary suspension; for a moment she had no +realization of where or who she was. The letter was the only fact she +recognized and sentences from it chased through her consciousness: "We +hold her as a hostage, her fate is in your hands. She is safe with us if +you accede to our demands." She saw them written on the walls, they +boomed in her ears like notes of doom. It was confirmation of that +instinct she had tried to smother; like the wand of a baleful genii it +had transformed her nightmare fancies into sinister reality. +</p> + +<p> +She felt a shriek rising to her lips and pressed her hand against them. +Secrecy, silence, her stunned brain had grasped that and directed her +restraining hand. Then the one deep feeling of her shallow nature +called her shattered faculties into order. Love lent her power, +steadied her, gave her the will to act. +</p> + +<p> +She sat down on the sofa and read the letter again, slowly, getting its +full significance. For the first time in her life responsibility was +cast upon her; she could throw the burden on no one else. By her own +efforts, by her own courage and initiative, she must get Bébita back. +She whispered it over, "I must do it. I must do it myself," then fell +silent, her face stony in its tension of thought. Suddenly its rigidity +broke; in an illuminating flash she saw the first step clear, and rising +ran to the telephone. The person she called up was Larkin. He answered +himself and she told him she wanted to see him on a matter of great +importance and would come at once to his office. +</p> + +<p> +Fifteen minutes later, her face hidden by a chiffon veil, her rumpled +smartness covered with a silk motor coat, she was knocking at his door. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Larkin's office was cool and shady, the blinds half lowered to keep +out the glare of the afternoon sun. In the midst of its airy neatness, +surrounded by an imposing array of desks, card cabinets, typewriters and +files, Mr. Larkin was waiting alone for his important client. +</p> + +<p> +She dropped into the chair he set for her, and, pushing up her veil, +revealed a countenance so bereft of the petulant prettiness he knew, +that he started and stood gazing in open concern. The sight of his +astonishment caused the tears to well into Suzanne's eyes, drowned and +sunken by past floods, and her story to break without prelude from her +lips. +</p> + +<p> +Larkin's surprise at her appearance gave place to a tight-gripped +interest when he grasped the main fact of her narrative. He let her run +through it without interruption nodding now and then, a frowning +sidelong glance on her face. +</p> + +<p> +When she had finished he drew a deep breath and said: +</p> + +<p> +"The moment I saw you, I knew something was wrong. But this—" he raised +his hands and let them drop on the desk—"Good Lord! I hadn't an idea it +was anything so serious." +</p> + +<p> +But she hadn't finished—the worst, the thing that had brought her—she +had yet to tell. And she began about the letter received an hour ago. At +that Larkin forgot his sympathies, was the detective again, hardly +concealing his impatience as he watched her fumbling at the cords of her +purse. Finally extracted and given to him he read it, once and then +again, Suzanne eyeing him like a hungry dog. +</p> + +<p> +"Last evening," he muttered after a scrutiny of the postmark, "Grand +Central Station." Then he rose, went to the window and, jerking up the +blind, held the paper against the light, sniffed at it, and felt its +texture between his thumb and finger. Suzanne saw him shake his head, +her avid glance following him as he came back to the desk and studied +the sheet through a magnifying glass. +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing to be got that way," he said. "Typepaper—impossible to trace. +No amateur business about this." +</p> + +<p> +Suzanne's voice was husky: +</p> + +<p> +"Do you mean it's professional people—a gang?" +</p> + +<p> +"I can't say exactly. But from what you tell me—the way it was +accomplished, the plan of action—I should be inclined to think it was +the work of more than one person—possibly a group—who had ability and +experience." +</p> + +<p> +Suzanne, clutching at the corner of the desk with a trembling hand, +cried in her misery: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Mr. Larkin, you don't think they'll hurt her. They wouldn't <i>dare</i> +to hurt her?" +</p> + +<p> +The detective's glance was kindly but grave: +</p> + +<p> +"Mrs. Price, I'll speak frankly. I think your child is in the hands of a +pretty desperate person or persons. But I have no apprehension that +they'll do her any harm. They don't want to do that—it's too dangerous. +What they might do if their plans fail is a thing we'll not +consider—it'll only weaken your nerve. And that's what you've got to +keep hold of. You'll get her back all right, but you must be cool and +brave." +</p> + +<p> +"I'll be anything; I'll be like another person. I'll <i>do</i> anything. No +one need be afraid I'll be weak or silly <i>now</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"Good—that's the way to talk. Now let me know a little about the way +the situation stands. It's odd I've seen nothing about this in the +papers—heard nothing. Your family must be active in some direction. +What are they doing?" +</p> + +<p> +A sudden color burnt in her wasted cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +"They suspect my husband. They think he did it—to—to—get square. We'd +quarreled—separated—and he'd made threats." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, yes, yes, I see—kidnaped his own child, and they're keeping it +quiet. I understand perfectly. But <i>you</i> didn't believe this?" +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head and bit on her underlip to control its trembling. +</p> + +<p> +"No—I couldn't, though I tried to. I knew he wouldn't have done +it—it's not—it's not—like him. And then while I was thinking the +letter came, and I knew, no matter what they thought, no matter what the +facts were, that <i>that</i> was true." +</p> + +<p> +"Um," Larkin, his mouth compressed, nodded in understanding. "You would +know better than any one else. In these matters instinct is one of the +most important factors." He was silent for a moment, then looked at her, +a glance of piercing question. "Do I understand that you are willing to +enter into these negotiations?" +</p> + +<p> +"Willing!" she cried. "Why should I be here if I wasn't willing?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, yes, exactly, but let us understand one another. What I mean is +are you willing—realizing what they are—to deal with them on their own +terms? In short, pay them what they ask and let them go?" +</p> + +<p> +"Of course." She almost cried it out in her effort to make him +comprehend her position. "<i>That's</i> what I want to do; that's why I +haven't told any of my own people and won't. I'd have gone straight to +my mother with this but I knew she wouldn't agree to it, she'd get the +police, want to fight them and bring them to justice." +</p> + +<p> +"Could you be relied on to maintain the secrecy necessary?" +</p> + +<p> +"I can be relied on for anything. Oh, Mr. Larkin, if you knew what I +feel you wouldn't waste time asking these questions." +</p> + +<p> +He answered very gently: +</p> + +<p> +"Mrs. Price, I appreciate your feelings to the full, but this is a +hazardous undertaking. You don't want to rush into it without realizing +what it means. There is the question of money for example—the ransom. +Your family is known for its wealth. You can be pretty certain that the +parties you're dealing with will hold the child for a large sum." +</p> + +<p> +Suzanne clasped her hands on her breast and the tears, brimming in her +eyes, spilled over, falling in a trickle down her cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, what's money!" she wailed. "I'd give all the money I have, I've +ever had, I ever thought of having, to get my baby back." +</p> + +<p> +Larkin was moved. He looked away from that pitiful, quivering face and +his voice showed a slight huskiness as he answered: +</p> + +<p> +"Well, that's all right, Mrs. Price—and don't take it so hard, don't +let your fears get the upper hand. There's no harm can come to her; it's +to their interest to take care of her. If we do our part cleverly, +follow their instructions and keep our heads, you'll have her back in no +time." He stopped, arrested by a sudden thought. "I say 'we,' but maybe +I'm presupposing too much. Was it your intention to ask for my +assistance?" +</p> + +<p> +She dashed her tears away and leaned forward in eager urgence: +</p> + +<p> +"Of course—that's why I came. And you will give it—you will? The +letter says it has to be some one having no ties or interests with the +family—some one I could trust. I couldn't think of any one at first, +and then when I remembered you it was like an inspiration. Oh, you must +do it—I'll pay you anything if you will." +</p> + +<p> +Larkin's face satisfied her; she dropped back with a moan of relief. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll undertake it willingly—not only to give you any help I can, but +because it will be a good thing for me. Don't be shocked at my plain +speaking, but I want to be frank and straight with you. I'm not +referring to pay—we can arrange about that later—it's work done for +the Janney family, successful work. And with your coöperation, Mrs. +Price, this is going to be successful. Now let's get to business." He +picked up the letter and glanced over it. "Headed 'Clansmen' and signed +'S. O. S.' I'll copy it, insert my name and address, and have it in +to-morrow's <i>Daily Record</i>. Then we'll see what happens." +</p> + +<p> +He smiled at her, reassuring and kindly. There was no response in her +tragic face. +</p> + +<p> +"It may be days before they answer," she murmured. +</p> + +<p> +But he was determined to uphold her fainting spirit. +</p> + +<p> +"I think not. They want to end this thing as quickly as they can—get +their loot and go. You've got to remember that their position is +terribly dangerous and at the first sign from us they'll get busy." +</p> + +<p> +She rose, took the letter and put it in her purse: +</p> + +<p> +"I hope to Heaven you're right. It's so awful to wait." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't think you'll have to. They'll see our answer to-morrow morning +and I'll expect a move from them by that evening or the next day. If +they communicate with me, I'll let you know at once, and if you hear, do +the same by me. It's going to be all right. Keep up your courage and +remember—not a word or a sign to any one." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I know," she said, drawing down her veil with limp hands, "you +needn't be afraid I'll spoil it. You thought me a fool, perhaps, when I +first consulted you, and I <i>was</i>, bothering about things that didn't +matter—jewels! There isn't one of us that hasn't forgotten all about +them now. Good-by. No, don't come out with me. I have a taxi waiting." +</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xxiisuzanne-finds-a-friend"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id24">CHAPTER XXII—SUZANNE FINDS A FRIEND</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">On Monday evening Ferguson heard from Molly of the scene in the Whitney +office. He was incredulous and enraged, refusing to accept what she +insisted were irrefutable proofs of Esther's guilt. +</p> + +<p> +"What do I care about your 'phone messages and your suppositions!" he +had almost shouted at her. "What do I care about what you <i>think</i>. You +say she didn't answer the charges—she did, she denied them. That's +enough for me." +</p> + +<p> +There was no use arguing with him, he was beyond reason. She lapsed into +silence, letting him rage on, seething in his wrath at the Janneys, the +Whitneys, herself. When he tried to find out where Esther was, she was +obdurate—<i>that</i> she couldn't tell him. All the satisfaction he got was +that Miss Maitland was not under arrest, that she was "put away +somewhere" and had agreed to the arrangement. He left, too angry for +good-nights, with a last scattering of maledictions, leaping down the +steps and swinging off across the garden. +</p> + +<p> +The next morning he telephoned in to the St. Boniface Hotel and heard +that the Janney party were out. Then he tried the Whitney office, got +George on the wire, and was told brusquely that Miss Maitland's +whereabouts could not be divulged to any one. He spent the rest of the +day in a state of morose disquiet, denying himself to visitors, short +and surly with his servants. Willitts was solicitous, inquired after his +health and was told to go to the devil. In the kitchen quarters they +talked about his queer behavior; the butler was afraid he'd had "a touch +of sun." +</p> + +<p> +Wednesday wore through to the early afternoon and his inaction became +unendurable. He decided to go into town, look up the Janneys and force +them to tell him where Esther was. He laid upon his spirit a cautioning +charge of self-control; he must keep his head and his temper, use +strategy before coercion. He had no idea of what he intended doing when +he did find her, but the idea of getting to her, seeing her, championing +her, transformed his moody restlessness into a savage energy. His +servants flew before his commands; in the garage the chauffeur muttered +angrily as orders to hurry were shouted at him from the drive. +</p> + +<p> +Tuesday had been a day of strain for the Janneys. According to the +telephone message, that night Chapman was to move the child from the +city. He had been under a close surveillance for the two preceding days, +and every depot and ferry housed watching detectives. Hope ran high +until after midnight when reports and 'phone messages came dropping in +upon the group congregated in the library of the Whitney house. No child +resembling Bébita had left the city at any of the guarded points. +Chapman had been in his office all day, had dined at a hotel and +afterward had gone to his rooms and remained there. The plan of moving +her had either been abandoned or had been intrusted to unknown parties +who had taken her by motor through the city's northern end. +</p> + +<p> +On Wednesday morning a consultation had been held at the Whitney office. +This had been stormy, developing the first disagreements in what had +been a unity of opinion. Mr. Janney was for going to Chapman and +demanding the child and was seconded by the elder Whitney. Mrs. Janney +was in opposition. She had no fear for Bébita's welfare—Chapman could +be trusted to care for her—and maintained that a direct appeal to him +would be an admission of weakness and place them at his mercy. In her +opinion he would threaten exposure—he was shameless—or make an offer +of a financial settlement. George agreed with her; from the start he had +thought Chapman was actuated less by a desire for vengeance than a hope +of gain. Mrs. Janney, thus backed up, became adamant. She would have no +dealings with him, would run him to earth, and when he was caught, crush +and ruin him. +</p> + +<p> +Suzanne had listened to it all very silent and taking neither side. Her +hunted air was set down to mental strain and she was allowed to remain +an unconsulted spectator, treated by everybody with subdued gentleness. +Back in the hotel, Mrs. Janney had suggested a doctor, but her querulous +pleadings to be let alone had conquered, and the old people had gone for +their afternoon drive, leaving her in the curtained quietness of the +sitting room. +</p> + +<p> +The door was hardly shut on them when she drew out of her belt a letter. +She had found it in her room on her return from the office and had read +it there before lunch. It was a prompter answer than she had dared to +hope for. +</p> +<blockquote><div> +<p class="pfirst">"Mrs. Suzanne Price, +</p> + +<p> +"<span class="small-caps"> +Dear Madam</span>: +</p> + +<p> +"In answer to your ad. we would say that we are willing to deal +through the agent you name. We take your word for it that he is +to be trusted, that both you and he understand any attempt to +betray us will be visited on your child. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Remember Charley Ross!</i> +</p> + +<p> +"The sum necessary for her release will be thirty thousand +dollars. On payment of this we will deliver her over at a time +and place to be specified later. If you agree to our terms +insert following ad. in the <i>Daily Record</i>. 'John—O. K. See +you later. Mary.' +</p> + +<p> +"(Signed) <span class="small-caps"> +Clansmen</span>." +</p> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">On the second perusal of this ominous document Suzanne felt the +strangling rush of dread, the breathless contraction of the heart, that +had seized her when she first read it. Horrors had piled on horrors—as +she had risen to each new step of her progress up this Via Dolorosa, +another more fearful and unsurmountable had faced her. When she had +spoken to Larkin of the money she had never thought of it, how much it +might be, how she was to get it. Now, with a stunning impact, she was +brought against the appalling fact that she had none of her own and did +not dare ask her mother for any. +</p> + +<p> +There was no use in lies; she had lied too much and too diversely to be +believed. She would have to tell what it was for, and she knew the mood +in which her mother would meet the demand. Money would be +forthcoming—any amount—but Mrs. Janney, with her iron nerve and her +implacable spirit, would never consent to a tame submission. Suzanne +knew that her fortune and her energies would be spent in an effort to +apprehend the criminals, and Suzanne had not the courage to take a +chance. All she wanted was Bébita, back in her arms again, the fiends +who had taken her could go free. +</p> + +<p> +She sat down, pushing the damp hair from her forehead and trying to +think. One fact stood out in the midst of her blind, confused suffering. +She could not go to Larkin till she had the thirty thousand dollars. +Every moment she sat there was a moment lost, a moment added to Bébita's +term of imprisonment. She stared about the room, the gleam of her +shifting eyes, the rise and fall of her breast, the only movements in +her stone-still figure. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly, piercing her tense preoccupation with a buzzing note, came the +sound of the telephone. It made her jump, then mechanically, hardly +conscious of her action, she rose to answer it. A woman's voice, +languidly nasal, came along the wire: +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Richard Ferguson is calling." +</p> + +<p> +"Send him up," she gasped and fumbled back the receiver with a shaking +hand. With the other she steadied herself against the wall; the room had +swung for a moment, blurred before her vision. She closed her eyes and +breathed out her relief in a moaning exhalation. It was like an answer +to prayer, like the finger of God. +</p> + +<p> +Of course Dick was the person—Dick who could always be trusted, who +could always understand. He would give it and say nothing; she could +make him. He was not like the others—he would sympathize, would agree +with her, in trouble he was a rock to cling to. A broken series of +answers to unput questions coursed through her head; she could go to +Larkin now—she needn't tell him how she'd got it, he thought she was +rich—after it was all over her mother would pay Dick back—in a few +days she'd have Bébita, the kidnapers would have made their escape—and +it would be all right, all right, all right! +</p> + +<p> +Ferguson had come up, grim-visaged, steeled for battle, but when he saw +her his fighting spirit died. There was nothing left of her but a +blighted shadow, the cloud of golden hair crowning in gay mockery her +drawn and haggard face. Before he could speak she made a clutch at his +arm, drawing him into the room, babbling a broken greeting about wanting +him, wanting his help. He put his hand on hers and felt it trembling; he +would not have been surprised if she had dropped unconscious at his +feet. +</p> + +<p> +"Lord, Suzanne, you don't want to take it this way," he soothed, guiding +her to the sofa. "You must get hold of yourself; you've been brooding +too much. Of course I'll help you—anything I can do—and we'll get her +back, it'll be only a few days." He didn't know what to say, he was so +sorry for her. +</p> + +<p> +She was past parleys and preliminaries, past coquetry and artifice. The +whole of her had resolved itself into one raw longing, and before they +were seated on the sofa, she had broken into her story. He didn't at +first believe her, thought grief had unsettled her brain, but when she +thrust the two letters into his hand all doubts left him. +</p> + +<p> +He read them slowly, word by word, then turned upon her a face so +charged and vitalized with a fierce interest that, had she been able to +see beyond the circle of her own pain, she would have wondered. If he +forgot to ask for Esther's hiding place it was because the larger matter +of her vindication had swept all else from his mind. The proofs of her +innocence were in his hands; he did not for a moment doubt their +genuineness. +</p> + +<p> +It was what he had thought from the first. +</p> + +<p> +His manner changed from that of the sympathizing friend to one of stern +authority. He shot questions at her, tabulating her answers, discarding +cumbering detail, seizing on the important fact and separating it from +the jumble of confused impressions and fancies that she poured out. A +few inquiries set Larkin's position clear before him. The money he +dismissed with a curt sentence; of course he would give it, she wasn't +to think of that any more. +</p> + +<p> +"Thank heaven you decided on me," he said. "I'll straighten this out for +you and I'll do it quick." +</p> + +<p> +She was ready to take fright at anything and his eagerness scared her. +</p> + +<p> +"But you'll not do anything they don't want? You'll not tell the police +or try to catch them?" +</p> + +<p> +He had seen from the start that she was dominated by terror, as the +kidnapers had intended she should be: and seeing this had recognized +her as a negligible factor. To keep her quiet, soothe her fears, and +employ her services just so far as they were helpful was what he had to +do with her. What he had to do without her was shaping itself in his +mind. +</p> + +<p> +"You can rely on me. I won't make any breaks. And <i>you</i> have to be +careful, not a word about me to this man Larkin. He must think the money +is yours." +</p> + +<p> +She assured him of her discretion and he felt he could trust her that +far. +</p> + +<p> +"Now listen," he said slowly and impressively as if he was speaking to a +child, "we've both got to go very charily. A good deal of the +threat-stuff in these letters is bluff, but also men who would undertake +an enterprise of this kind are pretty tough customers and we don't want +to take any risks. When I'm gone you drive over to Larkin's, tell him +you have the money for the ransom, and to put in the ad. As soon as +either you or he get an answer let me know. I'll be at Council Oaks; +I'll go back there now. It's probable you're watched and if they saw me +hanging about here they might think I was in the game and take fright. +Do you understand?" +</p> + +<p> +She nodded: +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, you've put some courage into me. I was ready to die when you came +in." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, that's over now. What you've got to do is to follow my +instructions, keep your nerve and have a little patience." +</p> + +<p> +He smiled down at her as she sat, a huddled heap of finery, on the edge +of the sofa. She tried to return the smile, a grimace of the lips that +did not touch her somber eyes. No man, least of all Dick Ferguson, could +have been angry with her. +</p> + +<p> +"She was crazy," he said to himself as he walked down the hall. "They +were all crazy and I guess they had enough to make them so. I'll get the +child back, and when I do, I'll make them bite the dust before my girl." +</p> + +<p> +Several people who knew him saw Dick Ferguson driving his black car down +Fifth Avenue late that afternoon. He saw none of them, steering his way +through the traffic, his eyes fixed on the vista in front. He stopped at +Delmonico's for an early dinner, telling the waiter to bring him +anything that was ready, then sat with frowning brows staring at his +plate. Here again were people who knew him and wondered at his gloomy +abstraction—not a bit like Ferguson, must have something on his mind. +</p> + +<p> +Night was falling as he crossed the Queensborough bridge, a smoldering +glow along the west glazing the surface of the river. When he left the +straggling outskirts of Brooklyn and reached the open country the dark +had come, deep and velvety, a few bright star points pricking through +the cope of the sky. He lowered his speed, his glance roving ahead to +the road and its edging grasses, startlingly clear under the radiance of +his lamps. +</p> + +<p> +Round him the country brooded in its rest, silence lying on the pale +surface of fields, on the black indistinctness of trees. Here and there +the lights of farms shone, caught and lost through shielding boughs, and +the clustered sparklings of villages. The air was heavy with scents, the +breath of clover knee-high in the grass, grain still giving off the +warmth of the afternoon sun, and the delicate sweetness of the wild +grape draped over the roadside trees. All this night loveliness in its +fragrant quietness, its rich and penetrating beauty, reminded him of +her. He looked up at the sky, and its calm and steadfast splendor came +to him with a new meaning. She was related to it all, in tune with the +eternal harmonies, part of everything that was stainless and noble and +pure. And he would show the world that she was, clear her of every spot, +place her where she would be as far from suspicion, as serenely above +the meanness of her accusers, as the stars in the crystal depths of the +sky. +</p> + +<p> +When he reached Council Oaks he had a vision of her, belonging there, a +piece of its life. He saw a future, when, coming back like this to its +friendly doors, she would be waiting on the balcony to greet him. There +was no one there now; the house was still, its lights shining across the +pebbled drive. Obsessed by his thoughts, he jumped out, and leaving the +car at the steps, entered. From the kitchen wing he could hear the +servants' voices raised in cheerful clamor. Crossing the hall, he had a +glimpse through the dining room door of the table, set and waiting for +him, two lamps flanking his place. He had no mind for food and went +upstairs, dreams still holding him. In his room he switched on the +lights and his vacant glance, sweeping the bureau, brought up on the box +with the crystal lid. +</p> + +<p> +In his mind the robbery had faded into a background of inconsequential +things. It had become a side issue, a thread in the tangled skein he had +pledged himself to unravel. When Molly had told him of the evidence +against Esther his interest had centered on the charge of kidnaping—the +monstrous and unbelievable charge of which she almost stood convicted. +Even now, as he looked at the box and remembered what he had hidden +there, it came to his memory not as another weapon to be used in her +defense, but as a souvenir of the moment when his present passion had +flamed into life. A picture rose of that night, the silver moon +spatterings, her hand, white in the white light, with the band on its +third finger. He opened the box to take it out—it was not there. +</p> + +<p> +He had seen it a few days before, was certain he had, shook up the +contents, then overturned the box, strewing the studs and pins on the +bureau. But it was fruitless—the band, crushed and flattened as he +remembered it, was gone. He muttered an angry phrase, its loss came as a +jar on the exaltation of his mood. Then a soft step on the staircase +caught his ear, and looking up he saw Willitts' head rise into view. The +man came down the passage and spoke with his customary quiet deference: +</p> + +<p> +"I saw the car outside, sir, and knew you'd come back. Would you like +dinner—the cook says she can have it ready in a minute?" +</p> + +<p> +"No," Ferguson's voice was short, "I dined in town. Look here, I've lost +something—" he pointed to the scattered jewelry—"I had a cigar band in +that box and it's gone. Did you see it?" +</p> + +<p> +Willitts looked at the box and shook his head: +</p> + +<p> +"No, sir. A cigar band, a thing made of paper?" There was the faintest +suggestion of surprise in his voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, you must have seen it. It was there a few days ago, underneath all +that truck—I saw it myself." +</p> + +<p> +The man again shook his head and, moving to the bureau, began to shift +the toilet articles and look among them. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm afraid I didn't see it, sir, or if I did I didn't notice. Maybe +it's got strayed away somewhere." +</p> + +<p> +He continued his search, Ferguson watching him with moody irritation: +</p> + +<p> +"What the devil could have happened to it? I put it in there myself, put +it in that particular place for safekeeping." +</p> + +<p> +Willitts, feeling about the bureau with careful fingers, said: +</p> + +<p> +"Was it of any <i>value</i>, sir?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," Ferguson having little hope of finding it turned away and threw +himself into a chair, "it was of great value. I wouldn't have lost it +for anything. It was evidence—" he stopped, growling a smothered +"Damn." He had said enough; he didn't want the servants chattering. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm very sorry, sir, but it doesn't seem to be here. Perhaps the +chambermaid threw it away, thinking it had got in the box by mistake." +</p> + +<p> +"I daresay—it sounds likely. I wish the people in this house would let +my room alone, control their mad desire for neatness and leave things +where I put them. Have the car taken to the garage, I'm not coming down +again. If any one calls up I'm out. Good-night." +</p> + +<p> +"Good-night, sir," said Willitts, and softly withdrew. +</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xxiiimolly-s-story"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id25">CHAPTER XXIII—MOLLY'S STORY</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">After that Monday night when he went off in a rage, Ferguson didn't show +up at Grasslands for several days and I had the place to myself and all +the time I wanted. Believe me, I wanted a lot and made use of it. While +the others were concentrating on the kidnaping—the big thing that had +absorbed all their interest—I went back to the job I was engaged for, +the robbery. And I went back with a fresh eye, the old idea cleared out +of my head by Mrs. Price's confession. +</p> + +<p> +She'd explained the light, the light by the safe at one-thirty. With +that out of the way, I could get busy on the cigar band. I was just +aching to do it, for, as I'd told Ferguson, it was an A1 starting +point. Given that, there's nothing more exciting in the world than +tracking up from it, following different leads, seeing if they'll +dovetail, putting bits together like a picture puzzle. +</p> + +<p> +So I started in and for two days collected data, ferreted into the +movements of every person on the place, gossiped round in the village, +picked up a bit here and a scrap there, and made notes at night in my +room. I broke down Dixon's dignity and had a long talk with him; I got +Ellen to show me how to knit a sweater and before I'd learnt had her +inside out. I spent two hours and broke my best scissors spoiling the +lock of the bookcase in my room and had Isaac up to try keys on it. When +I was done I knew the movements of everybody in the house on the night +of July seventh as if I'd personally conducted each one through that +important and exciting evening. +</p> + +<p> +It wasn't love of the work alone, or the feeling that I ought to earn my +salary, that pushed me on. There was something else—I wanted to clear +Esther Maitland. I wanted it bad. I kept thinking of her eyes looking at +me when I gave her the drink of water and it made me sort of sick. In my +thoughts I kept telling my husband about it, and I always tried to make +out I'd acted very smart and some way or other I knew he wouldn't think +so. It wasn't that I felt guilty—I'd done nothing but what I was hired +for—but there's a meanness about beating a person down, there's a +meanness about staring into their white, twisted face and saying, +"Ha—Ha—you're cornered and I did it!" You have to be awfully good +yourself to do that sort of thing. +</p> + +<p> +Thursday morning I'd got all I could and with my notes and my fountain +pen I went out on the side piazza by Miss Maitland's study; there was a +table there and it was quiet and secluded. So I fixed everything +convenient and set to work. Taking the cigar band as the central point I +built up from it something like this: +</p> + +<p> +It had been dropped by a man—so few women smoke cigars you could put +that down as certain. It had been dropped between half-past eight when +the storm stopped and half-past ten when Miss Maitland found it. The man +could not be Mr. Janney who had driven both ways, nor Dixon or Isaac who +had walked to the village by the road and come back the same route. It +couldn't have been Otto the chauffeur as he had stayed at Ferguson's +garage visiting there with Ferguson's men. The head gardener had gone to +the movies with the other Grasslands servants, and the under gardeners +had been in their own homes in the village as I had taken pains to find +out. Therefore it was no man living on the place at that time. +</p> + +<p> +But that it was some one who was familiar with the house and its +interior workings was proved by two facts:—that the dogs, heard to +start barking, had suddenly quieted down, and that a rose from Miss +Maitland's dress had been found inside the safe. +</p> + +<p> +An expert burglar could have got round all the rest, had a key to the +front door, worked out the combination—the house was virtually empty +for over two hours—it was known that the family and servants were out. +But the most expert burglar in the world couldn't have controlled those +dogs—Mrs. Price's Airdale was as savage to strangers as a wolf and had +a bark on it like a steam calliope. +</p> + +<p> +The rose figured as a proof this way: It had been put inside the safe to +throw suspicion on Miss Maitland, the thief was aware that she knew the +combination. This would argue that he was acquainted with the habits of +the household. All social secretaries are not given the leeway Miss +Maitland was; all social secretaries aren't given the combination of a +safe where two hundred thousand dollars' worth of jewels are kept. The +man knew she had it, and tried to fix the guilt on her. Where his plan +slipped up was Mrs. Price coming later, finding the rose, salting it +down in a piece of tissue paper, and, for some reason of her own, not +saying a word about it. +</p> + +<p> +How did he get the rose? As far as I could see there was just one way. +Esther Maitland had spent part of the afternoon of July the seventh +altering her evening dress. Ellen had pinned it up on her and she'd +taken the waist down to her study to sew on as her room was too hot. +When she'd gone upstairs again—it was Ellen who gave me all this—she'd +left part of the trimming on the desk. The next morning the parlor maid +had given it to Ellen—all cut and picked apart, some of the roses +loose in a cardboard box—to put in Miss Maitland's room. It had lain on +the desk all night and, in my opinion, the thief had either known it was +there or found it, taken the rose, and made his "plant" with it. +</p> + +<p> +Now one man who would be familiar to the dogs and might know Miss +Maitland's privileges and habits, was Chapman Price. But it wasn't he, +for at nine-thirty, the hour when the thief was busy, Mr. Price was +crossing the Queensborough bridge, headed for New York. And anyway, if +he hadn't been, you couldn't suspect him of trying to lay the blame on +the girl who was his partner. No—Chapman Price was wiped off the map +with all the rest of the Grasslands crowd. +</p> + +<p> +When I'd got this far I sat biting my pen handle and sizing it up. A +thief, professional, had taken the jewels. He was some one unknown, +having no connection with Mr. Price or Miss Maitland. The two crimes +that had nearly shaken the Janney family off its throne had been +committed by different parties. I was as sure of that as that the sun +would rise to-morrow. +</p> + +<p> +After dinner that evening I went out on the balcony and sat there, +turning it all over in my head, and looking at the woods, black-edged +and solid against the night sky. It was very still, not a breath, and +presently, off across the garden, I heard the gravel crunch under a +foot, a soft padding on the grass, and then a long, lean figure came +into the brightness that shot out across the drive from the hall behind +me—Ferguson. +</p> + +<p> +He dropped down on the top step, settled his back against one of the +roof posts, and took out a cigarette case. He was right where the light +shone on him, and I could see he had a serious, glum look which made me +think he still "had a mad on me" as they say on the east side. That +didn't trouble me; people getting mad when they've a reason to never +does, and he'd reason enough, poor dear. +</p> + +<p> +Puffing out a long shoot of smoke, he said: +</p> + +<p> +"I've come over to speak to you about that idea of mine—that cigar band +I told you about." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh," I answered, "you've got round to that, have you?" +</p> + +<p> +"I have, or perhaps you might say half way around." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I'm the whole way. I've spent three days getting there." +</p> + +<p> +"I thought you'd beat me to it. What have you arrived at?" +</p> + +<p> +"The certainty that the man who dropped the band was the thief." +</p> + +<p> +"We're agreed at last. Have you gone far enough round to come to a +suspect?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, I'm stuck there." +</p> + +<p> +He blew out a ring, watched it float away into the darkness and said: +</p> + +<p> +"So am I. But I've a small, single compartment brain that can't +accommodate more than one idea at a time. And it's busy just now in +another direction. If you'll put that forty horse-power one of yours on +this we ought to get round the whole way." He glanced sideways at me, +his eyes full of meaning. "You'll find I can be a very grateful person." +</p> + +<p> +"Gratitude's a kind of pay I like." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—it's stimulating and it can take more than one form." He flung +away the cigarette, leaned back against the post and said: "The worst of +it is that our main exhibit, the cigar band, is gone. I looked for it +last night and found it was lost." +</p> + +<p> +"Lost!" I sat up quick. He'd told me where he kept it and right off I +thought it was funny. "Gone out of that box you had it in?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. I wanted to see it when I came in—I'd been in town—and it wasn't +in the box." +</p> + +<p> +"Had it been there recently?" +</p> + +<p> +"Um—I can't tell just how recently—perhaps a week ago." +</p> + +<p> +"Did you ask about it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I asked Willitts. He said he hadn't seen it." +</p> + +<p> +"Didn't you tell me you kept studs and jewelry in that box?" +</p> + +<p> +"I did; that's what it's for. I don't see how he could have helped +seeing it. I daresay he did and, thinking it was of no use, threw it +away and then, when he saw I wanted it, got scared and lied." +</p> + +<p> +A thing like a zigzag of lightning went through me. It stabbed down from +my head to my feet, giving my heart a whack as it passed. My voice +sounded queer as I spoke: +</p> + +<p> +"He could have known, couldn't he, of that walk you and Miss Maitland +took, that walk when you found the band?" +</p> + +<p> +He had been looking, dreamy and indifferent, out into the darkness. Now +he turned to me, a little surprised, as if he was wondering at my +questions: +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose so. He knew all my crowd up there; they're forever running +back and forth from one place to the other. They know everything, and +they're the greatest gossips and snobs in the country. I've no doubt he +heard it talked threadbare—the boss walking home with Mrs. Janney's +secretary. Probably gave their social sensibilities a jolt." +</p> + +<p> +Something lifted me out of my chair, carried me across the balcony, +plunked me down beside him on a lower step. I craned up my head near to +his and I'll never forget the expression of his face, sort of blank, as +if he wasn't sure whether I'd gone crazy or was going to kiss him. +</p> + +<p> +"Some one who knew the family, some one who knew it was out that night, +some one who knew Miss Maitland had the combination, some one who could +have got a key to the front door, some one <i>the dogs were friendly +with</i>!" +</p> + +<p> +He was staring at me as if he was hypnotized—getting a gleam of it but +not the full light. I put my hands on his shoulders and gave them a +shake. +</p> + +<p> +"You simp, wake up. It's Willitts!" +</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xxivcards-on-the-table"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id26">CHAPTER XXIV—CARDS ON THE TABLE</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">In spite of Molly's excited certainty that Willitts was the thief, +Ferguson was not convinced. He met her impetuous demand for the valet's +arrest with a recommendation for a fuller knowledge of his activities on +the night of the robbery. Willitts had gone to the movies with the +Grasslands servants and if he had been with them the whole evening he +was as innocent as Dixon or Isaac. She had to agree and promised to do +nothing until she had satisfied herself that his movements tallied with +their findings. +</p> + +<p> +Ferguson had a restless night. There was matter on his mind to keep him +awake; he was fearful that Suzanne might make some false step. She was +at best a shifty, unstable creature, how much more so now strained to +the breaking point. He felt he ought to be in town where he could keep +her under his eye, and decided to motor in in the morning. Also he began +to think that Molly was probably right; she was shrewd and experienced, +knew more of such matters than he. He would go to the Whitney office and +put the Willitts' affair in their hands, then run up to the St. +Boniface, take a room, and have a look in at Suzanne. +</p> + +<p> +He left the house at nine-thirty, telling the butler he was called to +the city on business, and might be gone a day or two. At the Whitney +office he was informed that Mr. and Mrs. Janney were in consultation +with the heads of the firm, and, saying he would not disturb them, +waited in an outer room from whence he telephoned to Suzanne, telling +her he would be at the hotel later. When the Janneys had gone he was +ushered into the old man's office where he found the air still vibrating +with the clash of battle. A combined attack had been made on Mrs. Janney +who, under its pressure and the slow undermining of her confidence by a +week of failure, had given in and consented to a move on Price. It had +been planned for that afternoon, when he was to be summoned to the +office, charged with the kidnaping and commanded to render up the child. +</p> + +<p> +Whitney and his son listened to Ferguson's story of the cigar band with +unconcealed interest. George, however, was skeptical—it was ingenious +and plausible, showed Molly's fine Italian hand; but his mind had +accepted the theory of Esther's participation and was of the unelastic, +unmalleable kind. His father was obviously impressed by it, admitting +that his original conviction of the girl's guilt had been shaken. To +George's indignant rehearsal of the evidence, he accorded a series of +acquiescing nods, agreed that the facts were against him and maintained +his stand. He would see Willitts as soon as possible and put him through +a grilling examination. O'Malley could be sent to Council Oaks at once +to bring him in, and his business could be disposed of before they got +round to Price. As Ferguson rose to go George had the receiver of the +desk telephone down and was giving low-voiced instructions to O'Malley +to report immediately at the office. +</p> + +<p> +It was nearly one when the young man found himself on the street level. +There was no use going to the St. Boniface now as the family would be at +lunch and speech alone with Suzanne impossible. On the way uptown he +stopped at a restaurant, ordered food which he hardly touched, filling +out the time with cigarettes. By half-past two he was on the move again, +threading a slow way through the traffic, his eye lingering on the clock +faces that loomed at intervals along the Avenue. Suzanne had told him +that the old people always went for a drive after lunch and he scanned +the motors that passed him, hoping to see them. He was in no mood for +polite conversation—felt with the passing of the hours an increasing +tension, a gathering of his forces for a leap and a struggle. +</p> + +<p> +At the desk in the St. Boniface he heard that Mr. and Mrs. Janney had +just gone out, and waited while Mrs. Price's room was called up. There +was no response; Mrs. Price must be out too. The information made him +uneasy; she had told him she went nowhere except to Larkin's. More than +ever anxious to see her, he engaged a room and left the message that he +would be there and to be called up when she came in. The door shut on +him, his uneasiness increased; wondering what had taken her out, +wondering if she had done anything foolish, cursing the fate that had +placed so much in her feeble hands, perturbed and restless as a lion in +a cage. +</p> + +<p> +Suzanne had gone to Larkin's, called there by a telephone message. It +had come almost on the heels of her parents' departure and was brief—a +request to come to him as soon as she could. She had scrambled into her +street clothes, and, shaking in every limb, slipped out of the hotel's +side door and sped across town in a taxi to hear how Bébita was to be +found. +</p> + +<p> +She was hardly inside the door, her veil lifted from a face as pale as +Cæsar's ghost, when Larkin answered her look of agonized question: +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, the letter's come—what we expect, very clear and explicit. It was +sent to me this time—came on the two o'clock delivery." +</p> + +<p> +He turned to the desk and took up a folded paper. Before he could offer +it to her, she had leaned forward and snatched it out of his hand. +Instantly her eyes were riveted on the lines: +</p> +<blockquote><div> +<p class="pfirst">"Mr. Horace Larkin, +</p> + +<p> +"<span class="small-caps"> +Dear Sir</span>: +</p> + +<p> +"In answer to the ad. in the <i>Daily Record</i>, we are dealing +through you as the agent named by Mrs. Price. We do this as we +realize that a lady of Mrs. Price's type and experience would +be unable to handle alone so important a matter. Before we +enter into details we must again repeat our warnings—not only +the return of the child but her life is dependent on the +actions of her mother and yourself. If you are wise to this and +follow our instructions Bébita will be restored to her family +on Saturday night. +</p> + +<p> +"The plan of procedure must be as follows: At eight-thirty a +roadster, containing only the driver and marked by a +handkerchief fastened to the windshield, must leave the village +of North Cresson by the Cresson turnpike, at a rate of speed +not exceeding fifteen miles an hour. It must proceed eastward +along the pike for a distance of ten miles. Somewhere during +this run a car will pass it and from its tonneau flash an +electric lantern twice. Follow this car. Make no attempt to +hail or to overtake it. It will turn from the main road and +proceed for some distance. When it stops the driver of the +roadster must alight, place the money at a spot indicated, and +submit, without parley, to being bound and gagged. When this is +done the child will be left beside him. If agreed to insert +following personal in <i>The Daily Record</i> of Saturday morning: +'James, meet you at the time and place specified. Tom.' +</p> + +<p> +"(Signed) <span class="small-caps"> +Clansmen</span>." +</p> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">The letter fluttered to the desk and Suzanne sank into a chair. Larkin +looked at her; his glance showed some anxiety but his voice was hearty +and encouraging: +</p> + +<p> +"Well, you agree, of course?" +</p> + +<p> +She nodded, swallowing on a throat too dry for speech. +</p> + +<p> +He picked up the letter and ran a frowning eye over it: +</p> + +<p> +"It simply confirms what I thought—old hands. It's about as secure as +such a thing could be. I don't see a loose end." +</p> + +<p> +She made no answer and he went on still studying the paper: +</p> + +<p> +"I'm not familiar with this country, but they wouldn't have picked it +out unless it offered every chance of escape." +</p> + +<p> +"Escape!" she breathed. "They've <i>got</i> to escape." +</p> + +<p> +It made him smile, the eye he turned on her showed a quizzical +amusement: +</p> + +<p> +"You're almost talking like an accomplice, Mrs. Price." But he quickly +grew grave as he met her tragic glance. "Pardon me, I shouldn't have +said that, but the fact is, with the climax in sight, I'm a bit on edge +myself." Then with a brusque change of tone, "Do you know this section +of Long Island?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, well—I've driven over it often." +</p> + +<p> +"Am I right in thinking there are numbers of roads leading from the +Cresson Turnpike?" +</p> + +<p> +"Lots of them, to the Sound and inland." +</p> + +<p> +"Umph!" he threw the letter on the desk and sat down, "I don't think +you need worry about their getting away. Now we must settle this up and +then I'll go out and have the ad inserted. We've got to hustle—they've +only given us a little over twenty-four hours." +</p> + +<p> +She looked dazedly at him and murmured: +</p> + +<p> +"What have we got to do?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why—" he was very gentle as to a stupid and bewildered child—"we have +to arrange about this car—our car, the one that gets the signal." +</p> + +<p> +"We can hire it, can't we?" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, we could hire the car, but the driver—we can't very well hire +him. He must be some one upon whom we can rely." +</p> + +<p> +She stared at him, her eyes dilating: +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, yes, of course. I'd forgotten that." +</p> + +<p> +"Is there any one you can suggest—any one that you <i>know</i> you could +trust and who would be willing to undertake it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," the word came with a sudden decision. "I know some one." Larkin +eyed her sharply. She looked more alive than she had done since her +entrance, seemed to be vitalized into a roused, responsive intelligence. +"I know exactly the person." +</p> + +<p> +"Entirely trustworthy?" +</p> + +<p> +"Absolutely. Mr. Ferguson—Dick Ferguson." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, yes, Ferguson of Council Oaks." He mused a moment under her hungry +scrutiny. "Do you think he'd be willing to—er—agree to their demands +as you have?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, he'd do it to help me. He's an old friend; I know him through and +through. He'd do it if I asked him." +</p> + +<p> +The detective was silent for a moment, then said: +</p> + +<p> +"Well, we have to have some one and if you're willing to vouch for him +I'll abide by what you say. Before you came in I was thinking of +offering to do it myself. But there are reasons against that. I don't +mind helping you this way—quietly, on the side—but to be an actual +participant in the final deal, handle the money, be more or less +responsible for the person of the child—I'd rather not—I'd better not. +And anyway I think I can be more useful as an observer, an unsuspected +spectator who may see something worth while." +</p> + +<p> +She gave a stifled scream and caught at his hand, resting on the edge of +the desk: +</p> + +<p> +"No, no, Mr. Larkin, <i>please</i>, I beg of you. You're not going to try and +catch them." +</p> + +<p> +Her fingers gripped like talons; he laid his free hand over them, +soothingly patting them: +</p> + +<p> +"Now, now, Mrs. Price, please have confidence in me. Am I likely, at +this stage of the game, to do anything to queer it?" +</p> + +<p> +She did not reply, her eyes shifting from his, her teeth set tight on +her quivering underlip. He waited a moment and then spoke with a new +note, dominating, authoritative, as one in command: +</p> + +<p> +"My dear lady, you've got to get hold of yourself. I can't go on with +this if you don't trust me. We're launched on an enterprise by no means +easy and if we don't pull together we'll fail, that's all." +</p> + +<p> +That steadied her. She dropped his hand and broke into tremulous +protestations: +</p> + +<p> +"I do, I do, Mr. Larkin. It's only that I'm so terribly afraid, so upset +and desperate. Of course I trust you. Would I be here, day after day, if +I didn't?" +</p> + +<p> +He was mollified, dropped back with the crisp, alert manner of the +detective. +</p> + +<p> +"All right, we'll let it go at that. Now as to Ferguson—you'll have to +get word to him at once. Is he in the country?" +</p> + +<p> +"No—he's here. I had a telephone from him this morning to say he was in +town and would be at the hotel later in the day. He's probably there +now, waiting for me." +</p> + +<p> +"Um!" Larkin considered for a moment. "That's lucky. There's no time to +waste. Get his consent and then 'phone me here. Just a word. And you +understand he'll have to know the circumstances; he'll have to be wise +to everything if he's to play his part." +</p> + +<p> +Suzanne had lied so long and so variously that she did it with a natural +ease. No one, having seen her as Larkin had, would have guessed the +knowledge she hid. Her air of innocently comprehending his charge was a +triumph of duplicity. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course, I know, I understand. It'll be a dreadful surprise to him +but he'll see it as I do. And he'll do what I ask—I'm as certain of +that as I am of his secrecy." +</p> + +<p> +She would have to have the letter to show him, and Larkin, after a last, +careful perusal of it, handed it to her. Then she went, cutting off his +heartening words of farewell, making her way out in a quick, noiseless +rush. At the desk in the hotel she learned that Ferguson was there, +asked to have him apprised of her return and sent at once to her sitting +room. +</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xxvmolly-s-story"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id27">CHAPTER XXV—MOLLY'S STORY</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">The morning after that talk with Ferguson I rose up "loaded for bar." At +breakfast I led Dixon round to the old subject—we were good friends now +and he'd drop his professional manner when we were alone and talk like a +human being. Of course he remembered everything, and opened up as fluent +as a gramophone. Willitts hadn't found them at the movies till nearly +ten—been delayed on his way in from Cedar Brook, his landlady's little +girl had been took bad with croup and he'd gone for the doctor—Dr. +Bernard, who was off on a side road half way between Cedar Brook and +Berkeley. +</p> + +<p> +That ought to have been enough for me, but having started I thought I'd +clear it all up, so I borrowed a bike off Ellen and set out on the +double quick for Dr. Bernard's. I saw Mrs. Bernard and heard all I +wanted. Willitts had been there on the night of July seventh, came on a +bicycle, saw the doctor and gave his message about the sick child. She +thought it was somewhere between eight and half-past—the storm was +just stopping. I lit out for home; I'd got it all now. He'd gone +straight from the doctor's to Grasslands, taken the jewels, and made a +short cut back to the main road through the woods to where he'd hidden +his wheel. +</p> + +<p> +When you get this far on a case there comes over you a sort of terror +that you may slip up. You have it all in your hand, your fingers are +stretched to lay hold on the criminal, and an awful fear takes +possession of you that right on the threshold of success you may lose. +The cup and the lip—that's the idea. +</p> + +<p> +This seized me on the ride back to Grasslands. Why was the cigar band +gone if he wasn't wise to what it meant? It was a powerful hot day, +smothering on the wood roads, but the way I made that machine shoot +you'd suppose it was a hard frost and I was peddling to get up my +circulation. He might be gone already, taken fright and skipped! I had a +vision of telling the Chief and what he'd say, and the perspiration came +out on me like the beads on a mint julep glass. I'd go to town right +now—there was an express at eleven—but before I left I'd call up +Council Oaks and find out if he was there. +</p> + +<p> +As I ran up the piazza steps the hall clock chimed out a single note, +half-past ten—I had plenty of time. I called to Dixon to order the +motor—I was going to town—whisked into the telephone closet, and made +the connection. The voice that answered lifted me up out of the +depths—for I guessed it was Willitts by the dialect, English, with the +"H's" hanging on sort of loose and wobbly. To make sure I asked, and it +answered, smooth as a summer sea—yes, I was talking to Mr. Ferguson's +valet, Willitts. Mr. Ferguson was not at 'ome, 'ed gone to the city to +be away a day or two. Was there any message? There wasn't—you could bet +on that—and I eased off in a high-class society drawl. +</p> + +<p> +With a deep breath I dropped back to normal, smoothed my feathers, +powdered my nose, and when the motor came round looked like a shy little +nursery governess, snitching a day off in town. +</p> + +<p> +It was at the station that something happened which ended my peaceful +state and gave me an experience I'll remember as long as I live. +</p> + +<p> +Just as I was stepping on the train I took a glance back along the +platform and there, close behind me, dressed as neat as a tailor's +dummy, was Willitts with a bag in his hand. He didn't notice me, and if +he had he wouldn't have known me, for I'd only passed him once in the +village and then he wasn't looking my way. I mounted up the steps and +went into the car. From the tail of my eye I saw him in the doorway and +when he'd taken the seat in front of me, I dropped against the back of +mine, saying to myself: "Hully Gee, he's <i>going</i>!" +</p> + +<p> +All the way into town, I sat with my eyes on his hat, thinking what I'd +better do. There was one thing certain—that stood out like the writing +on the wall—I mustn't let him out of my sight. Where he went I'd have +to go, tight as a barnacle I'd have to stick to that desperado. I tried +to think how I could get a message to the Whitneys' office, but I didn't +see how I was going to find the time or the opportunity. If the worst +came to the worst I could call a cop, but if I knew anything of men like +Willitts, he'd keep a watch out like a warship for periscopes, for +anything that wore brass buttons and connected with the law. +</p> + +<p> +The "Penn" station was as hot as a Turkish bath and through it you can +imagine me, trying to trip light and airy, and keeping both eyes as +tight as steel rivets on that man's back. I've never shadowed +anybody—it's not been included in my college course—all I knew was I +mustn't lose him and I mustn't get him suspicious, and if you're making +away with a fortune in a handbag, suspicion ought to be your natural +state. So I trailed after him as far in the rear as I dared, sometimes, +a gang rushing for a train coming in between us, sometimes the space +clear with him hurrying to the exit and me sort of loitering and gawking +up at the maps on the ceiling. +</p> + +<p> +Out in the street he turned and shot a glance like a searchlight round +behind him. It swept over me and took no notice, which was considerable +of an encouragement. If it was warm in the station, it was sizzling +outside. Men were carrying their coats on their arms, some of them using +palm leaf fans, careful ones keeping to the edge of shade along the +house fronts. But Willitts didn't mind the sun; I guess when you're +making off with a fortune you're indifferent to temperature—it's +another proof of mind over matter. +</p> + +<p> +After walking down Seventh Avenue for a few minutes he turned to the +left and struck across a side street to Sixth. Half way down the block +he went into a men's furnishing store, and sauntering slow past the +window, I saw him looking at collars. There was a stationer's just +beyond and I cast anchor there, by a counter near the door set out with +magazines. A sales girl lounged up, chewing her gum like the heat had +made her languid, and looking interested over my clothes. +</p> + +<p> +"Awful warm, ain't it?" she said, and I answered, picking up a magazine: +</p> + +<p> +"It's something fierce. I'll take this one." +</p> + +<p> +"You got that one already," says she, pointing to the magazine I'd +bought at Berkeley and was still clinging to. "Don't you wanna try +something new?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh—it's the heat; the sun gets my head woozy." I picked out another +and gave her a dollar, the smallest change I had. As she was walking to +the cash register, Willitts passed the door and I was out on the sill, +moving cautious to the sidewalk. +</p> + +<p> +"Say," comes the girl's voice from behind me, "what are you doin'? You +ain't got your change yet. You'd oughtn't to be let out in this sun." +</p> + +<p> +"Keep it," I called back. "I was a working girl once myself." +</p> + +<p> +At the corner of Fifth Avenue he stopped and, a bus coming along, he +haled it. "Lord," thought I, "if he gets into that without me I'll have +to run after it and they'll arrest me for a lunatic." Being quite a ways +behind, I had to make a dash for it, waving my magazine and hollering +like the rubes from the country. He was up on the roof, and the bus was +moving when I lit on the step, and was hauled in friendly by the +conductor. +</p> + +<p> +We jolted downtown, me sitting sideways in a rear seat watching the +stairs for Willitts' legs. It wasn't until we were below Twenty-third +Street that they came into view, stepping lightly down. The bus heaved +up against the curb and he swung off, me behind him. I was terribly +scared that he'd begin to suspect me, and all I could think of that +would look natural was to roll my eyes flirtatious at the conductor, who +seemed to like it so much I was afraid he wouldn't let me off. +</p> + +<p> +When I got down on the pavement Willitts was walking along the cross +street back toward Sixth Avenue. Midway down the block, he stopped and +disappeared through a doorway. I was quite a piece behind him and when I +saw him fade out of sight I forgot everything and ran. At the door I +came up short, panting and purple in the face—the place was a +restaurant. It had a large plate glass window with white letters on it +and a man making pancakes where he'd show plainest. Inside I could see +Willitts seating himself at a littered up table. +</p> + +<p> +"Lunch!" I said to myself. "He's going to eat, the cool devil. Now's my +chance!" +</p> + +<p> +Almost directly opposite was a drug store with telephone booths close to +the window. I could get a message to the office, and if I caught the +chief or Mr. George, I could have a man up in twenty minutes. If they +weren't there I'd try headquarters, but I was afraid of that—they'd ask +questions, waste time, want to know who I was and what it was all about. +If only Willitts was hungry, if he'd only eat enough to last till I got +some one, if he'd only order pancakes. As I waited for the connection I +found myself sort of praying "Pancakes—make him order pancakes. They're +made in the window and they take quite a while. <i>Please</i> make him eat +pancakes!" +</p> + +<p> +Right in the midst of my prayer came the voice of Miss Quinn, the +switchboard girl in the office, and for me it was: +</p> + +<p> +"Quick, Miss Quinn—it's Mrs. Babbitts. Is Mr. Whitney or Mr. George +there? Give 'em to me—on the jump—if they are." +</p> + +<p> +She didn't waste a word, and in a minute Mr. George's voice came sharp: +</p> + +<p> +"Hello, who is it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Molly, Mr. George. And I've got Willitts—and I've got enough on him to +know he's the thief—I can't tell you now but—" +</p> + +<p> +He cut in with: +</p> + +<p> +"I know, I know, Ferguson's told us. O'Malley's here now going to +Council Oaks for him." +</p> + +<p> +I almost screamed: +</p> + +<p> +"Send him <i>here</i>. Willitts is off; he's left and I've trailed him. I'm +waiting at the door and he's inside." +</p> + +<p> +"Inside <i>what</i>, where the devil are you?" +</p> + +<p> +I gave him the directions and then: +</p> + +<p> +"It's a restaurant; he's eating. But it may only be a doughnut and a +glass of milk. If it's pancakes we're safe, but a man lighting out with +a fortune in a handbag don't generally want anything so filling. I'll +follow him until I drop, but I don't want to travel round with a jewel +thief unless I have to." +</p> + +<p> +"I'll send O'Malley now. You stay right there and if Willitts finishes +before he comes, hold him any way you can. Get a cop. I'll 'phone to +headquarters for a warrant. So long." +</p> + +<p> +Of course I thought of the cop, but spying out from the doorway, there +wasn't one in sight. And by this time I was considerably worked up, +afraid to move in any direction, afraid to take my eyes from the +restaurant entrance. I pulled up one of the chairs they have for people +getting prescriptions filled, and sat down by the doorway, watching the +place opposite, like a cat camped in front of a mouse hole. +</p> + +<p> +Ten minutes had passed. If the traffic wasn't too thick on Broadway +O'Malley could make it in less than twenty. But the traffic <i>was</i> +thick—it was the middle of the day; if he was stalled or had to make a +detour it might run toward half an hour. He might be—The door of the +restaurant opened and out crept the mouse. +</p> + +<p> +The cat rose up, soft and stealthy, with her claws ready. As I crossed +the street I sent a look both ways—not a taxi in sight, not a cop, only +the whole thoroughfare tangled up with drays and delivery wagons. There +was nothing for it but to stop him, first put out the velvet paw and +then shoot the claws. Jumping quick on the curb I came up alongside of +him, a smile on my face that felt like the grin you get when you make a +joke that no one sees. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, <i>hullo</i>," I said, going at him with my hand out, "I couldn't at +first believe it—but it <i>is</i> you." +</p> + +<p> +He drew up quick, all on the alert, looking at me with hard, ferret +eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"Who are you?" he said, fierce and forbidding. "What do you want?" +</p> + +<p> +I put my head sideways, and tried to take the curse off the smile, +changing it to a sort of trembly sweetness. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, <i>don't</i> you know me? I can't be changed that bad. It's Rosie." +</p> + +<p> +I didn't know what his Christian name was and anyway, if I had it +wouldn't have helped—a man like Willitts changes his name as often as +he does his address. But I had to call him something, so when I saw the +anger rising in his eyes, I said, all broken and tender like the +deserted wife in the last act: +</p> + +<p> +"Dearie, don't pretend you don't remember me—it's Rosie from the old +country." +</p> + +<p> +He began to look savage, also alarmed: +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know what you're talking about. I never saw you before in my +life." +</p> + +<p> +He made a movement to pass on, but I drew up close, wiped off the smile, +and put on the look of true love that won't let go. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, dearie, don't say that. Haven't I worn the soles off my shoes +hunting for you ever since, ever since—" Gee, I didn't know how to +finish it, then it came in a flash. I moaned out, "ever since we +parted." +</p> + +<p> +"Look 'ere, young woman," he said, low, with a face on him like a meat +ax, "this doesn't go with me. Now get out; get off or I'll 'ave you run +in." +</p> + +<p> +I knew he wouldn't do <i>that</i>; he'd hand over the jewels first. I raised +up my voice in a wail and said: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, dearie, you're faking; I won't believe it. You can't have +forgot—back in the old country, me and you." +</p> + +<p> +A messenger boy, slouching by, heard me and drew up, hopeful of some +fun. Willitts saw him and began to look like murder would be added to +his other offenses. I gave a glance up the street—still only drays and +wagons, not a taxi in sight. Fatima with Sister Anne reporting from the +tower, had nothing over me for watchful waiting. +</p> + +<p> +"It's Rosie," I whined, "it's your own little Rosie. If I don't look the +same it's the suffering you've caused me and Gawd knows it." +</p> + +<p> +I laid my hand on his arm. With a movement of fury he shook it off and +began to back away from me. Another boy had come up against the +messenger and lodged there like a leaf in a stream, caught in an eddy. I +heard him say, "What's on?" and the other answered: +</p> + +<p> +"Don't know but I guess it's the movies." +</p> + +<p> +And they both looked round for the camera man. +</p> + +<p> +I don't think Willitts heard them. His back was that way and his face to +me, hard as iron and savage as a hungry wolf's. He tried to speak low +and soothing: +</p> + +<p> +"Now 'old your tongue, don't make such a fuss. I'll give you something +and you go off quiet and respectable." His hand felt in his pocket and I +raised a loud, tearful howl: +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Money!</i> Is it money you're offering? What's money to me whose heart +you've broken?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't see no camera man," came the messenger boy's voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Aw, he's in one of them wagons," said the other. "I've seen 'em in +wagons." +</p> + +<p> +The perspiration was on Willitts' forehead in beads, he was whitening +round the mouth. Putting his face close down to mine he breathed out +through his teeth: +</p> + +<p> +"What in 'ell do you want?" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>You!</i>" I cried and out of the tail of my eye I saw a taxi shoot round +the corner from Fifth Avenue. Willitts drew away from me, shrunk +together for a race. I saw it and I knew even now, with O'Malley +plunging through the traffic, it might be too late. Embracing is not my +strong suit, no man but my lawful husband ever felt my arms about him. +But duty's a strong word with me and then my sporting blood was up. So +with my teeth set, I just made a lunge at that crook and clasped him +like an octopus. +</p> + +<p> +I didn't know a man was so much stronger than a woman. Willitts wasn't +much taller than I and he was a thin little shrimp, but believe me, he +was as tough as leather and as slippery as an eel. I could see the two +boys, delighted, drinking it in, and a dray man in a jumper, drop a +crate and come up on the run, bawling: "Say, you feller, let the lady +alone," The boys chorused out: "Aw, keep out—it's the movies!" Willitts +must have heard too, and I guess he saw his chance, for he suddenly +squirmed one arm loose, and whang! came a blow on the side of my head. +It might have seemed part of the play but he did it too hard—calculated +wrong in his excitement. I let go, seeing everything—the houses, the +sky, the crowd that seemed to start up out of the pavements—whirling +round and shot over with zigzags. There was a roaring noise in my ears +and all about, and I dropped over into somebody's arms, things getting +swimmy and dark. +</p> + +<p> +When I came out of it I was sitting on a packing box with a man fanning +me and O'Malley, red as a tomato and Willitts the color of ashes in the +middle of a mob. There was a terrible hubbub, people jamming together, +the wagons stopped and the drivers yelling to know what was up, heads +out of every window, and then two policemen, fighting their way through. +I felt queer, sickish, and as if the muscles of my face were all slack +so my mouth wouldn't stay shut. But the gentleman fanning me acted awful +kind and a clerk came out of a store with ice water and a wet +handkerchief that he patted soft on the side of my head. +</p> + +<p> +I could see O'Malley and the policeman (they'd come from headquarters I +heard afterward) go off into a vestibule with Willitts and the crowd +that couldn't get a look-in came squeezing round me, heads peering up +over heads. They'd got the idea that Willitts was my husband, seeming to +think only a lawful spouse would dare to hit a woman before witnesses in +the public street. The guys in the front were explaining it to the guys +in the back and calling Willitts names I couldn't put down in these +refined pages. +</p> + +<p> +It got me laughing, especially when an old Jew who had been sizing me up +like a piece of goods nodded slow and solemn and said: "And she ain'd zo +bad lookin' neither." I burst right out at that and the man with the fan +waved his arms at them, shouting: +</p> + +<p> +"Give way there—back—back! She wants air—she's hysterical. She's gone +through more than she can bear." +</p> + +<p> +Gee, how I laughed! +</p> + +<p> +Presently in the center of a surging mass we crowded our way to the +taxi, the policemen going in front and hitting round light with their +clubs. O'Malley with Willitts handcuffed to him got in the back seat, +me opposite, with my hat off, holding the handkerchief against my head. +As we pulled out I looked back over the sea of faces and caught the eye +of one of the policemen. He straightened up, very serious and dignified, +and saluted. +</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xxvithe-counter-plot"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id28">CHAPTER XXVI—THE COUNTER PLOT</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">Ferguson's knock on Suzanne's door was promptly answered by the lady +herself, still in her hat and wrap. She clutched at him as she had done +when he came to her in her dark hour, drawing him into the room and +gasping her news. He was in no mood to follow her ramblings and, as soon +as she spoke of a letter, interrupted her with a brusque demand for it. +After he had mastered its contents he told her to 'phone at once to +Larkin that it was all right, and while she delivered the message, stood +by studying the paper. When she turned back to him he laid his hands on +her shoulders and looked into her eyes. The touch that once would have +sent the blood burning to her cheeks called up no responsive thrill now: +</p> + +<p> +"This lets you out—it's the end of your responsibility. Your part now +is to be quiet and wait. To-morrow night you'll have Bébita back. Just +nail that up in your mind and keep your eyes on it." +</p> + +<p> +"Back where? Will you bring her here?" +</p> + +<p> +It was so like her—so indicative of a mental attitude invariably small +and personal, that he could have smiled: +</p> + +<p> +"I can't say, but probably Grasslands. The end of the route laid down +isn't so far from there." +</p> + +<p> +"Shall I go back to Grasslands?" +</p> + +<p> +He pondered a moment, then decided it was wiser to trust nothing to her, +even so simple a matter as her withdrawal to the country. +</p> + +<p> +"No, stay where you are. There'd be a lot of questioning if you went, +bothersome, hard to answer. When we have her I'll let you know. For the +rest of this afternoon I'll be in town, in my room here on the floor +below. If anything of moment should happen send for me, but don't unless +it's vital. I'll be busy getting things ready. Be silent, be grave, be +hopeful—that's all you have to do now." +</p> + +<p> +He left her, going directly to his room on a lower floor of the hotel. +She felt numb and dazed, wondering how she was to live through the next +twenty-four hours. Her parents returned from their drive and close on +their entrance came a communication from the Whitney office, saying the +jewels had been found and Mr. and Mrs. Janney were wanted downtown. In +the midst of their bustling excitement she sat mute, following their +movements with vacant eyes. She saw them leave in agitated haste, Mr. +Janney forgetful of her, her mother throwing out phrases of comfort as +she hurried to the door. She was glad when they were gone and she could +be still, draw all her energies inward in the fight for endurance and +courage. +</p> + +<p> +His coat off, the windows wide for such breaths of air as floated across +the heated roofs, Ferguson paced back and forth with a long, even +stride. His uncertainty was ended, the tension relaxed; he stood face to +face with the event and measured it. +</p> + +<p> +His assurances to Suzanne that he would make no attempt to apprehend the +kidnapers had been sops thrown to pacify her terror. He had no more +intention of a supine acquiescence than Mrs. Janney would have had. +Beyond the clearing of Esther, stood out the man's desire to bring to +justice the perpetrators of a foul and dastardly deed. Now, with their +cards laid on the table, it rose higher, burned into a steady, hot blaze +of rage and resolution. +</p> + +<p> +But between his desire and its fulfilment stretched a maze of +difficulties. He saw at once what Larkin had seen—that their plan was +as nearly impregnable as such a plan could be. Though he knew every mile +of the country they had selected, he knew that the chances of waylaying +or flanking them were ten to one against him. Numerous roads, north and +south, led from the Cresson Pike, some to the shore drive along the +Sound, some inland crossing the various highways that threaded the +center of the Island. Any one of these might be chosen as the road down +which their car would turn, and any one of them, winding through woods +and lonely tracts of country, would offer avenues of escape. +</p> + +<p> +He thought of stationing men along the designated route but it would +take an army, impossible to gather at such short notice and impossible +to place without his opponent's cognizance. Hundreds of men could not be +picketed along a ten-mile stretch of highway without those who were the +authors of so daring a scheme being aware. They would be on the watch; +no move of such magnitude could be hidden from them. It would be the +same if he called in the police. They would know it, and what could the +police do that he could not do more secretly, more efficiently? +</p> + +<p> +A following car was also out of the question. There was no reason to +suppose that they would not have several cars of their own, passing and +repassing him, making sure that he was unescorted. The threats of injury +to the child he had set down as efforts to reduce Suzanne to a paralyzed +silence. But if they saw an attempt was on foot to trap them they might +not show up at all—go as they had come, unknown and unsighted, their +car lost among the procession of motors that passed along the Cresson +Pike. Then taken fright, they might not dare another effort, might drop +out of sight with their hostage unredeemed. A chill crept over the young +man, he had a dread vision of the old people's despair, of Suzanne +distraught, crazed perhaps. It behooved him to run no risks; to make +sure of the child was his first duty, to strike at her abductors his +second. +</p> + +<p> +The course he finally decided on was the only one that made Bébita's +restoration certain and offered a possibility of routing his opponents. +At the hour named he would place on the road six motors, driven by his +own chauffeurs and garage men, and entering the turnpike at intervals of +ten minutes. Three would start from its eastern end, meeting him en +route, three from its western, strung out behind him, now and then +speeding up, overhauling him and passing on. Of a summer's Saturday +night the Cresson Pike was full of vehicles, and the six, merged in the +shifting stream, would suggest no connection with him or his mission. +</p> + +<p> +Where his hope of success lay was that one of these satellites, to whom +the character and marking of his roadster would be visible at some +distance, might be within sight when he was signaled and see him turn +into the branch road. Its business would be to wait until another of the +fleet came up, pass the word, and the two follow on his tracks. This +halt would give the kidnapers time to complete the transaction, get the +money, give up the child, and bind him. If they were interrupted the +situation would be too perilous to permit of delay—he had thought of an +attack on the child—and if they had finished and gone the rescuing +cars could fly in pursuit. +</p> + +<p> +He was far from satisfied with it; it was very different from the +schemes he had had in his head before he measured his resourcefulness +against theirs. He dropped into a chair, sunk in moody contemplation of +its deficiencies. The men he had to rely on were not the right kind, +loyal and willing enough, but without the boldness and initiative +necessary to such an enterprise. He wanted a lieutenant, some one he +could look to for quick, independent action if the affair took an +unexpected turn. You couldn't tell how it might develop, and he, pledged +to his ungrateful rôle, would be powerless to meet new demands, might +not know they had arisen. +</p> + +<p> +He was roused by a knock on the door. It surprised him for his presence +in the city was unknown except to his own household and the Janney +family. Then he thought of Suzanne coming down to him to pour out her +fears, and his "Come in" was harsh and unwelcoming. In answer to it the +door opened and Chapman Price entered. +</p> + +<p> +Ferguson rose, looking at his visitor, startled and silent. His surprise +was caused by the man's appearance, by a fierce disturbance in the +handsome face, pale under its swarthy tan, by the eyes, agate-black and +gleaming in a bovine glare. He had seen Chapman angry but never just +like this, and from a state, keyed to anticipate any new shock from any +direction, said: +</p> + +<p> +"What's happened now?" +</p> + +<p> +Price had closed the door and backing up, leaned against it. His answer +came, hoarse and broken: +</p> + +<p> +"I've been to those hounds, the Whitneys." +</p> + +<p> +It illuminated the ignorance of his listener, who was readjusting his +mind for a reply when the other burst into a storm of invective against +the lawyers and the Janneys. It broke like a released torrent, sentences +stumbling on one another, curses mingled with wild accusations, its +cause revealed in a final cry of: "Stolen—my child—kidnaped—gone!" +</p> + +<p> +Through Ferguson's head, full of weightier matters, flashed a vision of +Chapman raging at the Whitneys and a wonder as to what effect his rage +had had. Kicking a chair forward he spoke with a dry quietness: +</p> + +<p> +"That's all right—you needn't bother to go over it. Pull yourself +together and sit down." +</p> + +<p> +But he might as well have counseled self-control to an angry lion. The +man, still standing against the door, jerked out: +</p> + +<p> +"I can get nothing from any of them. They know nothing. They've let all +this time pass—following <i>me</i>, suspecting <i>me</i>. I don't know why I +didn't kill them!" +</p> + +<p> +"Probably because you've sense enough left not to complicate what's +complicated enough already. What brought you here?" +</p> + +<p> +He seemed unable to answer any direct question, staring with dilated +eyes, his thoughts fastened on the subject of his pain: +</p> + +<p> +"Spent a week—lost a week! Good God, Dick, they ought to be held +responsible. Where is she? Not one of them knows—not an effort made. +She's gone, lost, been stolen, spirited away, while they've been sitting +in their office, turning their d——d detectives loose on me." +</p> + +<p> +"Look here, Chapman, I'm not saying you're not right, but the milk's +spilled and it's no good trying to pick it up. If you'll sit down and +listen to me—" +</p> + +<p> +Price cut him off, leaving his post by the door to begin a distracted +striding about the room: +</p> + +<p> +"I couldn't stand it—when I'd got it through me I left. Then I tried to +get hold of Suzanne—telephoned her, here somewhere in this place. She's +half crazy, I think—I don't wonder, she's fonder of Bébita than +anything in the world. She wouldn't see me, crying and moaning out that +she couldn't, that she couldn't bear any more. And when I begged—I +thought that she and I might arrange some combined effort, that whatever +we had been we were partners <i>now</i> in this—she told me to come to you, +that you could tell me more, that you could help." He swerved round on +Ferguson, the hard passion of his glance softened to a despairing +urgency, "For God's sake, do. I'm penniless, I know almost nothing +except that I've got to act now, at once, before any more time is lost. +Give me a hand, help me to find her." +</p> + +<p> +Ferguson's voice had an element of endurance in its level tones: +</p> + +<p> +"That's just what I want to do. And if you'll stop talking and let me +explain, you'll see I'm on the way to do it. But it's not <i>my</i> help that +you want, it's the other way round—<i>I</i> want <i>yours</i>." +</p> + +<p> +It was almost dark and Ferguson turned on the lights. Under their thin, +white radiance, the two men sat, drawn close to the open window, and +Ferguson told his story. The other listened, the storm of his anger +gone, his dark face growing keen and hard as he heard the plan unfolded. +An hour later they parted, Price to go to Council Oaks and lie low there +until the following night when he would command the fleet of motors in +the chase along the Cresson Turnpike. +</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xxviinight-on-the-cresson-pike"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id29">CHAPTER XXVII—NIGHT ON THE CRESSON PIKE</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">The night fell stifling and airless, unfortunately favorable for the +kidnapers, as the sky was covered with clouds and the country wrapped in +a thick darkness. +</p> + +<p> +At half-past eight the roadster, with Ferguson driving, glided into the +little village of North Cresson and swung out into the Cresson Turnpike. +Ten minutes behind him was his touring car with Saunders, his chauffeur, +at the wheel. Twenty minutes later a limousine was to strike into the +pike from a road just beyond the village, and a runabout, emerging from +an opposite direction, complete the chain. At the other end of the +ten-mile limit Chapman Price in the black racer, was running up from the +shore drive, with two satellites, one his own motor, one a hired Ford, +strung out behind him. +</p> + +<p> +Of a hot summer night at this hour the pike was alive with autos; +returning holiday-makers, city dwellers taking a spin in the country to +cool off, joy riders rioting by, belated business men speeding to the +sea-side for the Sunday rest. They bore down on Ferguson like a +procession of fleeing monsters with round, goblin eyes staring in +affright. They came from behind, swinging across his path in a blur of +dust, laughter and shrill cries rising from their crowded tonneaus. +Keeping to their narrow track between the borders of the fields they +were like a turbulent, flashing torrent, dividing the darkness with a +stream of streaked radiance, cutting the silence with a current of +continuous sound. +</p> + +<p> +Ferguson's glance ranged ahead, dazzled by the glare of advancing lamps +that enlarged on his vision, grew to a blinding haze and swept by. He +could see little, blackness and brightness alternating, the motors +emerging as dim solidities, realized for a passing moment, then gone. +Once a small car, cutting across his bows from a side road, made him +slacken, but it slowed round showing the gnarled face of a farmer with a +fat woman on the seat beside him and a bunch of children behind. +</p> + +<p> +As he went on the press of vehicles thinned, the line of the road showed +bare for longer stretches. The runabout overhauled him, kept by his side +for a few yards, then drew ahead, its red tail lantern receding with an +even, skimming smoothness; a spot, a spark, nothing. He calculated he +had covered nearly half the distance when the black racer passed in a +soft, purring rush, his eye, through the yellow fog that preceded it, +catching a glimpse of Price's face. Then came a long, straight level +between fields where only two cars went by, both going cityward. He +looked back and tried to see the road behind him, straining his vision +for a following shape, but the darkness lay close and unbroken, no +goblin eyes peering through it in anxious pursuit. +</p> + +<p> +The road took a dive into woods, black as a cavern, the air breathless. +It wound in sharp curves, his lamps sending their swinging rays into +thickets, then out again on a hilltop, and down, swooping with a long, +smooth glide into a valley. Here the touring car passed him and he met a +limousine, traveling at a pace as sober as his own, in its lit interior +two men talking; after that a farmer's wagon drawn up against the +roadside grasses, the horse prancing in fractious fear. Then nobody—a +wide strip of open country with the sky setting down like an arched lid +over the low circular surface of the land. +</p> + +<p> +It was very still and his listening ear caught the buzzing hum of a +vehicle behind him. This time he did not turn but drew off further to +the right, and a closed coupé swung by, with the jarring rattle of an +old and loose-geared body. He was on the alert at once, its hooded shape +suggesting secrecy, the surrounding loneliness apt for its design. Its +tail light cast a bobbing, crimson blot on the bed and he saw its back, +dust-grimed and rusty, and the numbered oblong of its license tag. That +caused his expectancy to drop—the tag stood for respectability and +honest wayfaring, then, with a quickened leap of his heart, he realized +that its speed was slackening. It slowed down to his own gait, and at +the limit of his lamp's illumination, moved before him, a square bulk, +its back cut by a small window. He felt sure now, and with his hand on +the wheel took a look over his shoulder. In the distance, cresting a +rise, he saw two golden dots, too far for a speedy overtaking, and even +if that were possible he had no reason to suppose they belonged to any +of his followers. +</p> + +<p> +A belt of woods spread across the way and the road entered it as if +tunneling a vault. It wound, looped and twisted, tree trunks and leafy +hollows starting out as the long bright tubes swept over them. As one of +these, slewing wide in a sharper turn, crossed the bank of the forward +car, Ferguson saw an arm extended and from the hand a white spark flash +twice. Almost immediately the coupé turned to the left, and plunged into +a by-way, black as a pocket, the woods' thick growth crowding on its +edges. +</p> + +<p> +The roadbed was good and the leading car accelerated its speed racing +onward under the arching boughs. Ferguson, close on its heels, knew that +the sounds of their going would be muffled by the enshrouding woodland, +absorbed in its woven density. No chance either of meeting any one; the +way was one of those forest trails, sought by the rich on their +afternoon drives, but at night deserted by all but the birds and the +squirrels. Cursing at the failure of his schemes, powerless now to +protest or to retaliate, he followed until he knew by a freshening of +the air that they were near the Sound. The coupé's speed began to lessen +and it came to a halt. +</p> + +<p> +Ferguson drew up a few rods behind it. He could see the trees about him +picked out in detail and behind them the engulfing darkness. The machine +in front still seemed to shake and vibrate; he caught the sound of a +step and then a voice, a man's, deep and low-keyed: +</p> + +<p> +"This is the place. Get out." +</p> + +<p> +He jumped to the ground, discerning a shape by the coupé's door. He +advanced, peering through his lantern's intervening glare, and made out +it was alone. Stung with a quick fear, he halted and said. +</p> + +<p> +"Where's the child?" +</p> + +<p> +"Here. Put the money on the rock to your right." +</p> + +<p> +The man came forward, a raised hand pointing to where the top of a rock +showed among the wayside grasses. From the lifted hand, the light struck +a silvery gleam, touching the barrel of a revolver. Ferguson, without +moving said: +</p> + +<p> +"I must see her first." +</p> + +<p> +He thought he detected a moment's hesitation, then the man stepped back +to the car and called a gruff: +</p> + +<p> +"All right—quick—look." +</p> + +<p> +He swung the coupé door open and from an electric torch in his left hand +sent a ray into the interior. The white shaft pierced the murk like a +pointing finger. Its circular end, a spot of livid brightness, played on +Bébita curled on the floor asleep. Ferguson saw her as if cut from an +encompassing blackness, transparently clear like a picture suspended in +a void. Then the ray was extinguished, and as he stood, blinking against +the obscurity, heard the man's voice, "The money—on the rock there," +and caught the gleam of the revolver barrel level with his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +He walked to the rock and laid the money, in an envelope clasped with +rubber bands, on its flat surface. The whole thing seemed to him like a +cheap melodrama and he could have laughed as he righted himself and saw +the round, shining end of the revolver covering him, and the silent +figure behind it. +</p> + +<p> +"Come on," he said, "get to the rest. You tie me—where?" +</p> + +<p> +"The oak—behind you." +</p> + +<p> +It was a large-sized tree back from the edge of the road, and he walked +to it hearing the man trampling the underbrush in his wake. He had a +sense of a dreamlike quality in the whole fantastic performance, as if +he might wake up suddenly and find he'd been having a nightmare. +</p> + +<p> +But there was nothing dreamlike in the force with which the rope was +thrown about him and tightened round the tree. As he felt it strained +across his chest, lashed round his legs, girding him to the trunk close +at its bark, he recognized expertness and strength in the hands that +bound him. The thing was done with extraordinary speed and deftness, and +ended by a lump of waste, that smelled of gasoline, being thrust into +his mouth. +</p> + +<p> +The heavy tread moved again through the underbrush, the man passed to +the rock, and, his back to Ferguson, crouched on the light's edges +counting the money. Ferguson saw him in silhouette, a large, humped body +with bent head. This done, he went to the door of the coupé and lifted +out the child. He had some difficulty in getting hold of her, muttered +an oath, then drew her out, carried her to the roadside and set her down +on the grass. There was a moment when he crossed the full gush of +illumination and Ferguson had a clear glimpse of him, a chauffeur's cap +on his head, the lower part of his face covered by a thick beard. +Returning to his car, he jumped in. Its lurching start broke into a +sudden flight, it rushed; Ferguson could hear the bounding of stones, +the creaking and wrenching of its body as it hurtled down the road. +</p> +<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure" style="margin-left: 27%; width: 45%" id="figure-5"> +<span id="ferguson-saw-him-in-silhouette-a-large-humped-body-with-bent-head"/><img style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Ferguson saw him in silhouette, a large, humped body with bent head" src="images/illus4.jpg" width="100%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Ferguson saw him in silhouette, a large, humped body with bent head</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">Silence settled, the deep, dreaming quiet of the woods. The young man +tried to struggle, to writhe and work himself loose, but his bonds held +fast, and he found himself choked for air, stifling and snorting over +his gag. He gave it up and looked at the child. By straining his eyes he +could just see her, a small, relaxed body, one hand outflung, her +profile, held in a trance-like sleep, marble white against the grass. A +hideous fear assailed him:—she might be dead. Some drug had evidently +been administered to keep her quiet—an overdose! He wrenched and +pressed at the cords, almost strangled and had to stop, the sweat +pouring into his eyes, his heart pounding on the rope that cut into his +chest. He called on his will, felt himself steadied, his smothered +breath came easier, the only sound on the silence. +</p> + +<p> +Then another broke upon it, far away, from the direction of the Sound—a +thin, clear report. He stiffened, all his faculties strained to listen, +heard it again, several in a spattering run, dropping distinct, like +little globules piercing the stillness. "Shooting!" he thought with a +wild surge of excitement, "out toward the water—Oh, Lord, have they got +him?" +</p> + +<p> +He listened again, but heard nothing. And then from the ground rose a +moaning breath, a sleepy cry—Bébita was awake. He wrenched his head +till he could see her plainly, her face turned upward, the eyes still +closed, the forehead puckered with a look of pain. He tried to emit some +word, heard it only as a guttural mutter, and watching, saw her stir, +the out-stretched arm sway upward, her eyes open, dazed and heavy, and +heard her drowsy whimper of, "Mummy," and then, "Oh, Annie, where are +you?" Slowly, her head moving as her glance swept the unfamiliar +prospect, she sat up. +</p> + +<p> +He remembered the next few minutes as something incredibly horrible, the +child's consciousness clearing to an overwhelming fear. She looked +about, saw him, scrambled to her feet and began to scream, shrill, +terrified cries, crouching away from him like a scared animal. She made +a rush for the motor, climbing in, cowering down, calling on the names +that meant safety: "Mummy! Oh, Mummy! Gramp, Daddy—Come! <i>Come</i> to me!" +</p> + +<p> +An answer came, the hollow bray of a motor horn, the shout of a man's +voice, then the twin spears of light, the whirring buzz of a machine +shooting out of the road's dark tunnel—Chapman Price in the black car. +He leapt out and ran to her, caught her up, strained her to him, held +her head back to look into her face, kissed her, babbled words of love +that broke on his lips and he hid his face on her neck. She twined round +him, arms and legs clutching and clinging, sobbing out, "Popsy, Popsy!" +over and over. +</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xxviiithe-man-in-the-boat"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id30">CHAPTER XXVIII—THE MAN IN THE BOAT</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">Price took Bébita to Grasslands, handed her over to Annie and telephoned +in to the Janneys. Then he left to rejoin Ferguson who was to go to the +shore and find out the meaning of the shots. Price, missing the leading +car, had decided that it had turned from the pike and scouring the side +roads in a blind chase had heard the shots, agreeing with Ferguson that +they came from the direction of the Sound. +</p> + +<p> +Ferguson went that way, driving at breakneck speed. He had almost +reached the shore, felt the water's coolness, saw the wood's vista widen +when, to avoid a deep rut, he slewed his machine to the left. The lights +penetrated a thicket, revealing behind the woven foliage, a dark, large +body, black among the tangled green. He drew up, peering at it—it was +not a rock; its side showed smooth through the boughs. He jumped out and +pushed his way through the bushes. It was a taxi, its lamps +extinguished, broken branches and crushed foliage marking its track. +</p> + +<p> +It gave evidence of a violent flight and a hasty desertion, careened to +one side, its door open, a rug hanging over the step. He went to the +back, struck a match and looked at the license tag—the number was that +of the motor he had followed. Covered by the darkness, driven deep among +the trees, it could easily have passed unnoticed until the daylight +betrayed it. +</p> + +<p> +The plan of escape revealed a new artfulness—the man had made off +either on foot or in another vehicle. It accounted for the license—he +knew his pursuers would mark it and look for a car carrying that number. +In the face of such a crafty completeness of detail the young man felt +himself reduced to a baffled indecision. Cogitating on the various +routes his quarry might have taken, he ran out on to the shore road and +here again halted. +</p> + +<p> +Before him the Sound lay, a smooth dark floor, along which glided the +small golden glimmerings of river craft. He looked up and down the road, +discernible as a gray path between the upstanding solidity of the woods +and the flat solidity of the water. Some distance in front a black blot +took shape under his exploring glance as a small house. He started the +car and ran toward it, seeing as he approached a dancing yellow spot +come from behind it in swaying passage. He stopped, the yellow spot +steadied, rose, swung aloft—a lantern in the hands of a man, half +dressed, who came toward him spying out from under the upraised glow. +</p> + +<p> +Ferguson spoke abruptly: +</p> + +<p> +"Did you hear shots a while ago?" +</p> + +<p> +The man setting his lantern on the ground, spoke with the slow phlegm of +the native: +</p> + +<p> +"I did—close here. I bin down to the waterside seein' if I could make +out what they was." +</p> + +<p> +The house was skirted by a balcony along which a second light now came +into view; this time from a lamp carried in the hand of a woman. She was +wrapped in a bed gown, a straggle of loose hair hanging round a +frightened face. +</p> + +<p> +"We was asleep and they woke us up. They was right off there," she +jerked her head to the Sound behind her. +</p> + +<p> +"From the water?" Ferguson asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Sounded that way," the man took it up. "We wasn't sure at first what it +was; then they come crack, crack, one after the other, from somewheres +beyont. My wife, she said it was motor boats, said she heard 'em off +across the water. But by the time we got something on and was outside it +was over. There wasn't no more and we couldn't see nothing. I bin down +on the beach lookin' round, thinkin' they might have come from there, +but I ain't found no tracks or signs of anybody." +</p> + +<p> +"I was wonderin'," said the woman, "if may be it was that patrol +boat—the one they got this summer runnin' along the shore for +thieves—That they caught a sight of one and went after him." +</p> + +<p> +Ferguson was silent for a moment then said: +</p> + +<p> +"Is there any place round here where a boat could be hidden, deep enough +water for a launch?" +</p> + +<p> +The man answered: +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, right down the road a step there's a cove and an old dock; used to +belong to the folks that lived on the bluff but the house burned down a +while back and ain't been rebuilt and no one's used the dock since. A +feller could hide a boat there fine; it's all overgrown so you can't see +it unless you know where it is." +</p> + +<p> +"I'd like to take a look at it," said Ferguson. "Come along with the +lantern." +</p> + +<p> +The place was only a few yards from the mouth of the wood road. Trees +and shrubs sheltered it, concealing with their rank growth a small +wharf, rotted and sagging to the water line. The lantern rays revealed a +recent presence, scattered leaves and twigs on the wooden planking, the +long marshy grasses showing a track from the road to the wharf's edge. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, sir," said the native, much impressed; "some one's been here +to-night and not s'long ago either. You can see where the dew's been +swep' off the grasses right to the water." +</p> + +<p> +Ferguson said nothing; he now saw the whole plan of escape—the coupé +left in the woods, a short run to the cove where a boat had been +concealed, the get-away down on across the Sound. What had the shots +meant? Was the woman right in thinking the police patrol had come upon +the fleeing criminal? And if they had what had been the result? +</p> + +<p> +Lantern in hand, the man at his heels, he crushed through the swampy +copse to the shore. There his glance swept the long stretch of the +water, sewn in the distance with a pattern of moving sparks. Two of +them, red and green, stole over the ebony surface toward him, advancing +with an even, gliding smoothness, piercing and steady, like the eyes of +a stealthily approaching animal, fixing him with a meaning scrutiny. He +snatched up the lantern and ran for a point that jutted out in a pebbly +cape. Standing on its tip he raised and waved the light, letting his +voice ring out across the stillness: +</p> + +<p> +"Boat ahoy!" +</p> + +<p> +The lights drew closer, their reflections stabbing down into the oily +depths, gleam below gleam. The pulsing of a muffled engine came with +them, a prow took shape, a shine of wood and brass above the lusterless +tide. Ferguson called again: +</p> + +<p> +"Who are you?" +</p> + +<p> +An answer rose in a man's surly voice: +</p> + +<p> +"What's that to you?" +</p> + +<p> +"A good deal. I'm Ferguson of Council Oaks and I'm looking for the boat +that fired on some one round here about an hour ago." +</p> + +<p> +The voice replied, its tone changed to sudden conciliation: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Mr. Ferguson; couldn't see who it was. We're what you're looking +for—the police patrol. We have the launch here in tow." +</p> + +<p> +"Have you got the man?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, sir. He didn't answer our challenge and fired on us. We chased and +gave it back to him—a running fight. One of us got him—he's dead." +</p> + +<p> +"Go on to my wharf; I'll be there when you come." +</p> + +<p> +On his way along the shore road he met Price, paused for a quick +explanation, and the two cars ran at a racing clip to Ferguson's wharf. +The men were standing on its end when the police boat glided into the +gush of light that fell from the high electric lamps at either side of +the ship. Behind it, lifted and dropped by the languid wavelets, was a +launch, a covered shape lying on the floor. +</p> + +<p> +The story of the police was quickly told. The night, dark and windless, +was the kind chosen by the water thieves for their operations. The men +had been on the watch faring noiselessly with engine muffled and hooded +lamps. It was nearly the end of their run, a length of shore with few +estates, when they saw a boat glide from a part of the beach peculiarly +dark and deserted. The craft carried no lights, a fact that instantly +roused their suspicions, and they waited. As it drew out for the open +water they challenged. There was no answer, but a sudden acceleration of +its speed, shooting by them like a streak for the mid reaches of the +Sound. +</p> + +<p> +They started in pursuit, repeating their challenge and then an order to +lie to. Again there was no response and they clapped on top speed and +raced in its wake. They were gaining on it when, in answer to a louder +hail, the man fired on them, the bullet passing between two of them and +burying itself in the gunwale. They replied with a return fire, there +was a fusillade of shots, and the two boats sped in a darkling rush +across the Sound. They knew something was wrong with their opponent; his +launch headed in a straight line swept through the wash of steamers, cut +across the bows of tugs and river craft, rocking like a cockleshell, +menaced by destruction, shouts and objurgations following its mad +course. They were up with it, almost alongside on the last lap. He made +no answer to their hails, sat upright and motionless, sat so when his +bow crashed against the rocks of the Connecticut shore. They found him +dead, a bullet in his brain, the wheel still gripped in his hands. +</p> + +<p> +Ferguson dropped into the launch and drew down the coat that had been +thrown over the body. The face, the false beard gone, was handsome, the +body large and powerful, the hands fine and well kept—it was not the +type he had expected to see. He felt in the pockets and found the money +still in its envelope, clasped by the rubber bands. There were no other +papers, no means of identification. After a short colloquy with the men, +he and Price drove back to Council Oaks. +</p> + +<p> +Price left the next morning. His presence was necessary in the city, he +said, and he seemed preoccupied and anxious to go. He hinted at +forthcoming revelations which would clear up what was still unexplained, +but declared himself unable at present to say more. +</p> + +<p> +When he had gone, Ferguson walked to Grasslands where he found the +family recuperating in a relief too deep for words. Bébita was in bed +still asleep. The doctor, sent for the night before, said she was +suffering from the effects of a drug, but that rest and quiet would soon +restore her. +</p> + +<p> +They collected on the balcony to hear his story. When it was over, +questions answered, amazement and horror vented in various forms, Mr. +Janney said he would like to walk over to the wharf and have a talk with +the police himself. Ferguson decided to go with him; there would be a +lot of business to be gone through, an inquest with all its unpleasant +detail. +</p> + +<p> +As they rose to leave, Suzanne announced that she wanted to come too. +She looked a wreck, in her hysterical jubilation forgetful of her rouge +and powder; a worn little wraith of a woman whose journey to the heart +of life had stripped her of all coquetry and beauty. They tried to +dissuade her, but, as usual, she was insistent; she wanted to see the +men herself, she wanted to hear everything. On this day of thanksgiving +no one had the will to thwart her, so they accepted with the best grace +they could and she walked through the woods with them. +</p> + +<p> +There was a group of men on the wharf, the local police, the coroner, +some of Ferguson's employees. The body had been put in the boathouse, +laid on a table under a sheltering tarpaulin. Ferguson and Mr. Janney +drew off to the end of the dock in low-toned conference with the +officials. They were relieved to see that Suzanne had no mind to listen, +but stayed by herself in the shade of the boathouse wall. +</p> + +<p> +She leaned against it, looking out over the sparkling reaches of the +Sound. Her thoughts were of the dead man, close behind her there, on the +other side of the wooden partition. She wondered with an awed amaze at +his wild act and its dark ending. She wondered what manner of man he +was, what he was like—a human creature, unknown to her, who could want +only to cause her such anguish. +</p> + +<p> +She shot a glance over her shoulder and saw that the door of the +boathouse was half open—the coroner had been in and had neglected to +close it. She looked at the men at the end of the wharf; they stood in a +little cluster, backs toward her, heads together in animated discussion. +She moved from the wall, advanced on tip-toe through the slant of shade, +and slipped through the open doorway. +</p> + +<p> +The place was very still, its clear, varnished brownness impregnated +with the sea's salty tang, through its windows the golden gleam of the +waves reflected in rippling lights that chased across its peaked +ceiling. She stole to the table where the grim shape lay and lifted the +tarpaulin with a trembling hand. The other shot suddenly to her mouth, +strangling a scream, and she dropped the heavy cloth as if it burned +her. Both hands went up over her face, flattened there until the nails +were empurpled, and she stood, bent as if cramped with pain, for the +moment all movement paralyzed. +</p> + +<p> +Ferguson, informed of all he wanted to know, turned from the others to +join her. She was not where he had left her, and moving down the wharf +he looked about and, seeing no sign of her, decided that she had gone +home. He was passing the boathouse doorway when she came through it +almost upon him. +</p> + +<p> +"Good heavens!" he said angrily, "have you been in <i>there</i>?" Then, +seeing her face, he caught her arm and held her. Would there ever be an +end to her willfulness! +</p> + +<p> +"Come home," he said, sharply, and led her away. She tottered beside +him, drooping and ghastly. As they crossed the road to the path up the +bluff he could not forbear an exasperated: +</p> + +<p> +"What in the name of common sense did you do that for? Didn't you know +it was not a thing for you to see?" +</p> + +<p> +Her hands locked on his arm; she leaned against him lifting a haggard +glance to his face. Her voice was a husky whisper: +</p> + +<p> +"It's not that, Dick. It wasn't just the dead man. It was—it was—he +was my detective—Larkin!" +</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xxixmiss-maitland-explains"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id31">CHAPTER XXIX—MISS MAITLAND EXPLAINS</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">On Saturday afternoon several telephone messages were sent to Esther +Maitland at O'Malley's flat. They came from Ferguson, from Grasslands, +and the Whitney office. In the two latter cases they were conciliatory +and apologetic and asked that Miss Maitland would see the senders and +explain the circumstances that had so strangely involved her in the +case. +</p> + +<p> +To both her employers and the Whitneys Miss Maitland returned an evasive +answer. She would be happy to do as they asked, but would have to let a +few more days pass before she would be free to speak. Meantime she would +remain with Mrs. O'Malley, who had offered to keep her, and who had +treated her with the utmost kindness and consideration. One request she +made—this to the Whitneys—she would like Chapman Price to be advised +of her whereabouts. It would be necessary for her to communicate with +him before she would be able to explain her share in the mystery. +</p> + +<p> +Ferguson's message had been an importunate demand to let him come to +her. She refused, said she would see no one until she was at liberty to +clear herself, which would not be for some days yet. Her voice showed a +tremulous urgency, a note of pleading, new to his ears and infinitely +sweet. But he could not break down her resolution; she begged him to do +as she asked, not to seek her out, not to demand any explanations until +she was ready to give them. The one favor she granted him was that when +the time was up and she could break her silence, he could come for her. +</p> + +<p> +This did not happen until Wednesday. That morning she 'phoned to them +all that she could now see them and tell them what they wanted to hear. +A meeting was arranged at the Whitney office for three that afternoon +and Ferguson went to fetch her. +</p> + +<p> +They met in Mrs. O'Malley's front parlor, considerately vacated and with +the folding doors closed against intrusion. Without greeting Ferguson +took her hands and held them, looking down into her face. She was +beaming, her cheeks flushed, her eyes shy. She began to say something +about being at last able to vindicate herself, but he cut her off: +</p> + +<p> +"Before you go into that, I want to say something to you." +</p> + +<p> +"No, that's not fair; I must speak first and you must let me. It's my +privilege." +</p> + +<p> +"With the others maybe, but not with me. What I have to say has to be +said <i>before</i> I hear. Esther, do you know what it is?" +</p> + +<p> +She was silent, her head drooping, her hands growing cold in his grasp. +He went on, very quietly and simply: +</p> + +<p> +"It's that I ask you to be my wife. And I must ask it before the +clearing or vindicating or any rubbish of that sort. I don't know what +<i>you'll</i> say to it and I don't want any answer now. That's at your own +good time and your own good pleasure. It's just that I wanted you to see +how I stand and have stood since that night when we walked through the +woods together. Come along now—it's nearly three, and we mustn't keep +them waiting." +</p> + +<p> +It was a very different Esther who sat in Wilbur Whitney's private +office, facing those who had once been her accusers. She gave no +evidence of rancor, greeted them with a frank friendliness, smiled with +a radiance they set down to the rebound from long tension and strain. +Suzanne, her jealous fires burned out, could acknowledge now that she +was handsome; Mr. Janney wondered at her look of breeding. "A fine +girl," old Whitney thought, as he studied her through his glasses, +"spirited and high-mettled as a racer." +</p> + +<p> +"It's a long story," she said, "and for you to understand it I'll have +to go back to a time when none of you had ever heard of me. And before I +begin, I want to say to Mrs. Janney," she turned to the older woman +eagerly earnest, "if I had understood people better, if I hadn't been +hardened and made suspicious by the struggle I'd had, I would have +trusted you and told you more, and all this misery would have been +averted. So, in a way it was my fault, and being such I've suffered for +it. +</p> + +<p> +"I have a half-sister, Florence Jackson, nine years younger than I am; +that would make her eighteen. When my stepfather died, ten years ago, he +left us penniless and I had to start in at once to make our bread. I +boarded Florry out with friends and found a position as a school +teacher. That was only for a year or two; soon I advanced into the +secretarial work which was less fatiguing and better paying. In the +first place I got, Florry was living near me and on Sundays she used to +come and see me. My employer didn't like it—did not want a strange +child about the house and told me so without mincing words. I was +angry—I was hot-tempered and sensitive in those days and I made a vow +to keep my life to myself, be nothing to my employers but a machine who +rendered certain services for a certain wage. When I came to you, Mrs. +Janney, I should have seen that I was with some one who was big-hearted +and generous, but I had been molded and the mold had set in a hard and +bitter shape. +</p> + +<p> +"Earning more money I was able to put Florry in good schools. It was my +intention to give her a fine education, and equip her for the task of +earning her living. She was quick and clever, but willful and hard to +control. I suppose it was because she had had no home influences, no +place that belonged to her. She had to spend her vacations +anywhere—sometimes at the school, sometimes with classmates. It was a +miserable life for a child. +</p> + +<p> +"She was always pretty—when she was little people used to stop on the +streets to look at her—and as she grew older she grew prettier. She was +charming, too, there was something about her very willfulness that was +captivating. The combination worried me; if she had had more balance, +been more reasonable, it wouldn't have mattered. But she was the kind +who is always full of wild enthusiasms, going off at a tangent about +this, that and the other. Not a promising temperament for a girl who has +to support herself. +</p> + +<p> +"A year ago I got her into a first class school near Chicago—I had met +the principal, who had been very kind and taken her at a greatly reduced +rate. It was to be her last year; in June she would graduate and with +her education finished, I felt sure I could get her a position in New +York where I could help her and watch over her. During the winter—last +winter—her letters made me uneasy. She was discontented, tired of +study, wanted to be out in the world doing something. I was prepared +for a struggle with her, but not for what happened. +</p> + +<p> +"One day—it was in March—I had a letter from her saying she had run +away from school, was in New York and was looking for a job. I was angry +and bitterly disappointed, also I was frightened—Florry in New York +without a cent, with no one to be with her, with no home or companion. I +went to the address she gave me and found her in the hall bedroom of a +third rate boarding house—a woman on the train had told her of it—full +of high spirits and a sort of childish joy at being free. She did not +understand my disappointment, laughed at my fears. I lost my temper, +said more than I ought—and—well, we had a quarrel, the first real one +we ever had. +</p> + +<p> +"That night I couldn't sleep, blaming myself, knowing that whatever she +did it was my duty to stand by her. The next day I went to the place and +found she'd gone, leaving no address. For three days I heard nothing +from her and was on the verge of going to you, Mrs. Janney, and +imploring your aid and advice, when a letter came. She was all right, +she had found paying employment, she was independent at last. In my +first spare hour I went to her and found her in another boarding house, +a cheap, shabby place, but decent. A good many working women lived +there, the better paid shop girls and heads of departments. It was +through one of these, a fitter, at Camille's, that she had got work. +With her beauty it had been easy—she had been employed as a model at +Camille's." +</p> + +<p> +"Camille's!" the word came on a startled note from Suzanne. Esther +turned to her: +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Mrs. Price, and you saw her there—you ordered a dress from a +model that Florry wore." +</p> + +<p> +"The girl with the reddish hair—the tall girl?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, that was Florry. She told me afterward how she walked up and down +in front of you." +</p> + +<p> +"But—" Suzanne's voice showed an incredulous wonder, "she was +beautiful; they were all talking about her." +</p> + +<p> +"I said she was—I was not exaggerating. She was satisfied with her +work, liked it, I think she would have liked anything that was novel and +took her away from the grind of study. <i>I</i> didn't like it, but at least +it wasn't the stage, and I set about trying to find something better. +That was the situation till April and then—" She paused, her eyes +dropped to the floor. The color suddenly rose in her face and raising +them she shot a look at Ferguson. He answered it with a slight, almost +imperceptible nod and smiled in open encouragement. She took a deep +breath and addressed Mrs. Janney: +</p> + +<p> +"What I have to tell now isn't pleasant for me to say or for you to +hear, but I have to tell it for all the subsequent events grew from it. +Mr. Price had been to Camille's that first time with his wife." +</p> + +<p> +There was a slight stir in the listening company, a sudden focusing of +intent eyes on the girl, a waiting expectancy in the grave faces. She +saw it and answered it: +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, he saw Florry. He went again—Mrs. Price was buying several +dresses. After that second visit he waited one night at the side door +used for employees and spoke to her. I can't condone what she did, but I +can say in extenuation that she was very young, very inexperienced, that +she knew who Mr. Price was, and that she had never in her life met a man +of his attractions. +</p> + +<p> +"She didn't hide it from me, was frank and outspoken about the meeting +and his subsequent attentions. For he saw her often after that, took her +for walks on Sunday, sent her theater tickets and books. I was filled +with anxiety, besought of her to give it up, but she wouldn't, she +couldn't. Before I went to Grasslands I realized a situation was +developing that made me sick with apprehension. She was in love, madly +in love. I couldn't reason with her, I couldn't make her listen to me; +she was blind and deaf to anything but him and what he said. +</p> + +<p> +"I went to Mr. Price and implored him to leave her alone. I had to catch +him as I could—in the halls, at odd moments in the library, for he +hated the scenes I made and tried to avoid me. He assured me that he +meant no harm, that her position was hard and he was sorry for her. I +threatened to tell Mrs. Janney, and he said I could if I wanted, that he +would soon be done with them all and didn't care. I saw then that he +too, like Florry, was growing indifferent to everything but the hours +when they were together—that <i>he</i> was in love. +</p> + +<p> +"That was the situation when I went to Grasslands. It was much worse +there—I couldn't see her often, I was in ignorance of how things were +going with her, for her letters told me little. It was unbearable, and I +went into town whenever I could; all the extra holidays were asked for +so that I could go into the city and see how Florry was getting on. On +one of these visits she told me something that, at the time, I paid +little attention to, setting it down as one of her passing fancies; she +was interested in the working girls' unions. At Camille's and in the +boarding house she had fallen in with a group of girls of Socialistic +beliefs and, through them, had met their organizers and backers. She was +much more deeply involved than I guessed. Her fearlessness, her ardor +for anything new and exciting, making her a valuable addition to their +ranks. It carried her far, to the edge of tragedy." +</p> + +<p> +She turned to Mr. Janney: +</p> + +<p> +"Do you remember, Mr. Janney, one morning early in July, how I read you +an account of a strike riot among the shirtwaist makers when one of the +girls stabbed a policeman with a hatpin?" +</p> + +<p> +The old man nodded: +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, vaguely. I have a dim memory of arguing about it with you." +</p> + +<p> +"That was the time. Well, that girl was Florry. She lost her head +completely, stabbed the man, and in the tumult that followed, managed to +get away through the hall of a tenement house. She was hidden by friends +of hers, Russian socialists called Rychlovsky. I have met them; they +seem decent, kindly people, and they certainly were very good to her. +When I read you the article I had no more idea that the girl was Florry +than you had. It was not until the next morning that I received a letter +from her, telling me what she had done and where she was. +</p> + +<p> +"She wrote two letters, one to me and one to Mr. Price. He had told her +that he would spend his week-ends with the Hartleys at Cedar Brook and +she sent his there. Mine was delivered on the morning of July the +seventh but he did not get his until the same evening when he came to +Cedar Brook from the city. Each of us acted as promptly as we could, but +he went to her before I did, going in that night in his car. +</p> + +<p> +"It seems incredible that he should have done what he did, dared to +take such a risk. But when he found her cooped up in the rear room of a +tenement, lonely and frightened, he prevailed on her to go out with him +in his motor. He took her for a drive far up the Hudson, not returning +until after midnight. The Rychlovskys, who had missed her and were in a +state of alarm, were furious. When I went there the next day they were +vociferous in their desire to be rid of her, saying she would land them +all in jail. I was her sister; it was up to me, I must find another lair +for her. +</p> + +<p> +"I had heard of the house in Gayle Street from two girls, art students, +who had once lived there. It was the only place I could think of; and +when I found that the top floor was vacant, I realized that she could be +hidden in one of the rooms and no one suspect it was occupied. I engaged +it and paid the rent, telling the janitor the story of a friend coming +from the West. Then I took the key back to Florry. The Rychlovskys, +pacified by the thought that she would be out of their house, undertook +to furnish her with food. They made her promise that she would keep to +the room, light no gas at night, make no noise, and stay away from the +window. Florry was by this time thoroughly cowed and agreed to +everything. It was through their adroitness that the room passed as +vacant. They visited her in the evening, a time when many people came +and went in the house, bringing in her food and carrying away what was +left in newspapers. They had two extra keys made, one for me, one for +Mr. Price. I brought her money, Mr. Price books and magazines. He saw +her oftener than I did, and gave me news of her. This I asked him to do +by letter. I had once met him by Little Fresh Pond, and another time he +had telephoned. I was afraid of repeating the meeting at the pond—we +had both come upon Miss Rogers and Bébita on the way out—and I dreaded +being overheard at the 'phone. +</p> + +<p> +"All went well for two weeks, though we were terribly frightened, for +the policeman developed blood-poisoning, and for some time hung between +life and death. Then the Rychlovskys suggested a plan that seemed to me +the only way out of our dangers and difficulties. A friend of theirs, a +woman doctor, was one of a hospital unit sailing from Montreal to +France. This woman, allied with them in their Socialistic activities, +agreed to get Florry into her group as a hospital attendant, take her to +France and look after her. It struck us all as feasible and as lacking +in danger as any plan for her removal could be. The doctor was a woman +of high character who told the Rychlovskys she would keep Florry near +her as the unit was shorthanded and needed all the workers it could get. +The one person who showed no enthusiasm was Florry herself. I knew +perfectly what was the matter—she did not want to leave Chapman Price. +He tried to persuade her, was as worried and anxious as I was. The +situation between them had cleared to a definite understanding—when his +wife had obtained her divorce he would go to France and marry Florry +there. +</p> + +<p> +"And now I come to the day of the kidnaping, that dreadful, +unforgettable day! +</p> + +<p> +"The morning before—Thursday—I had seen her and found her in a state +of nervous indecision, weeping and miserable. I knew I was to be in town +with Mrs. Price the next day and told her if I could get time I would +come to her. Mrs. Price had told me how we were to divide the errands +and I realized, if I could finish mine earlier than she expected, I +would have a chance of seeing Florry. I had just been paid my salary and +that, with some money I had saved, I brought with me. My intention was +to give all this to Florry and implore her to go with the hospital unit, +which was scheduled to leave Montreal early the following week. +</p> + +<p> +"Things worked out as I had hoped. The commissions took less time than +Mrs. Price had calculated and I found that I would be able to spend a +few minutes with Florry. In case Bébita should mention the excursion +downtown, I ordered the driver to drop me at a bookbindery on the corner +of Gale Street. I could easily explain our stop there by saying that I +had left a book to be bound. +</p> + +<p> +"When I reached the room I found her in a state of hysterical +terror—she said the house was watched. Peeping out through the coarse +lace curtains that veiled the window, she had several times noticed a +man lounging about the corner. At first she had thought nothing of him, +but the day before he had reappeared, and stayed about the block most of +the afternoon covertly watching the entrance and the upper floor. I was +nearly as frightened as she was—the thing was only too probable. There +was no difficulty in getting her to go with the hospital ship. She had +only stayed on in the hope of seeing me and having me tell her what to +do. +</p> + +<p> +"I gave her the money and told her to wait until nightfall and then slip +out and go to the Rychlovskys. They had promised to help her in any way +they could, and with Bébita waiting in the cab, I couldn't go with her. +It was a simply hideous position to have to leave her that way. But it +was all I could think of—it came so unexpectedly I was stunned by it. +</p> + +<p> +"When I reached the bookbindery the taxi was gone! Can you imagine what +I felt? I told the truth when I said my first thought was that Bébita +might have played a joke on me. I <i>did</i> think that, for my mind, +confused and crowded with deadly fears, could not take in a new +catastrophe. Then, when I saw Mrs. Price and realized that the child +had mysteriously disappeared, while with <i>me</i>, while in <i>my</i> +charge—I—well, I hope I'll never have to live over moments like those +again. I had to keep one fact before my mind—to be quiet, to be cool, +not to do or say anything that might betray Florry. If I'd known what +you suspected, I couldn't have done it. But, of course, I hadn't any +idea then you thought I was implicated. +</p> + +<p> +"Florry had told me she would communicate with Mr. Price and he would +give me word of her. The telephone message that Miss Rogers tapped was +that word; all I received. It relieved me immensely, I began to feel the +dreadful strain relaxing, I began to think we were on the high road to +safety. And then came that day here in the office. Shall I ever forget +it!" +</p> + +<p> +She turned to Mrs. Janney: +</p> + +<p> +"If I had had the least idea of what was going to be done here, I would +have tried to get to you and have thrown myself on your mercy. But I was +completely unsuspecting and unprepared, and with Mr. Whitney as the +judge, representing the law, I did not dare to tell the truth, I <i>had</i> +to lie. +</p> + +<p> +"As you saw, I lied as well as I could, puzzled at first, not knowing +what you were getting at, to what point it was all leading. Then, when +you caught me with the tapped message, I saw—I guessed how +circumstances had woven a net about me. I realized there was nothing to +be done but let you believe it, let you do what you wanted with me. You +couldn't <i>make</i> me speak, and if I could stay silent till Florry was in +Europe, hidden, lost in the chaos of a country at war, it would be all +right." +</p> + +<p> +She swept their faces with a glance, half pleading, half triumphant. +</p> + +<p> +"She is there now—this morning Mr. Price had a cable from her. I have +told this to Mr. Whitney as well as the rest because I have +thought—shut up in O'Malley's flat I had much time for thinking things +out straight and clear—that after my explanation, no one would want, no +one would dare, to bring that unfortunate girl back here to face a +criminal charge. She has had her lesson, she will never forget it, the +man she wounded is back on the force as good as ever. No human being +with a conscience and a heart—" she looked at Whitney—"and you have +both—could want to make her pay more bitterly than she has. She is +safe, under intelligent supervision. She can work, be useful, where her +youth and strength and enthusiasm are needed. I did not trust you +before, Mr. Whitney, but I do now and I know that my trust is not +misplaced." +</p> + +<p> +A murmur, a concerted sound of agreement, came from her listeners. +Whitney, pushing his chair back from the desk, said gravely: +</p> + +<p> +"You can rest assured, Miss Maitland, that the matter will die here with +us to-day. As you say, your sister has had her punishment. She will stay +in France of course?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, make her home there, I think. When Mr. Price is free he is to go +over and marry her. He intends to sell his business out and offer his +services to the French government." +</p> + +<p> +There was a moment of silence, then Mrs. Janney spoke, clearing her +throat, her face flushed with feeling: +</p> + +<p> +"As you've said, Miss Maitland, none of this would have happened if +you'd seen fit to come to me. But it's no use going over that now—we've +all made mistakes and we're all sorry. What we—the Janneys—want to do +is to be fair, to be just, and now—if it is not too late—to make +amends. The only way you can show your willingness to forget and +forgive, is to come back at once to Grasslands and take things up where +you left them." +</p> + +<p> +The girl for a moment did not answer, her face reddening with a sudden +embarrassment. Mrs. Janney saw the blush, read it as reluctance and +exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Miss Maitland, don't say you refuse. It's as if you wouldn't take +my hand held out in apology, in friendship." +</p> + +<p> +"No, no"—Esther was obviously distressed—"don't think that, Mrs. +Janney, it's not that. It's that I can't—I've—I've made another +engagement—I'm going to marry Mr. Ferguson." +</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xxxmolly-s-story"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id32">CHAPTER XXX—MOLLY'S STORY</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">It's my place to finish, tell the end of the story and straighten it all +out. Some of it's been cleared up clean, with the people on the spot to +give the evidence, some of it we had to work out from what we knew and +what we guessed. Willitts, who was a gamy guy, told his tale from start +to finish, and loved doing it, they said, like an actor who'd rather be +dead in the spotlight than alive in the wings. Larkin's part we had to +put together from what we could get from Bébita and what Mrs. Price gave +up. +</p> + +<p> +Bébita, the way children do, saw plain and could tell what she saw as +accurate as a phonograph. It made tears come to hear the dear little +thing, so sweet and innocent, making us see that even the crooks she was +with couldn't help but love her. +</p> + +<p> +When Miss Maitland got out of the taxi at the bookbindery the driver +told the child that he knew her Daddy and could take her round to see +him while Miss Maitland was in the store. He said it wouldn't take long, +that Mr. Price was close by, and they would come back in a few minutes +and pick up Miss Maitland. Bébita was crazy to go, and he started, +giving her a box of chocolates to eat on the way. Of course she never +could tell where he went but it could not have been a long distance, or +Larkin—we all were agreed that he drove the cab—couldn't have reached +the Fifth Avenue house as soon as he did. The place was evidently a flat +over a garage. He told her her father was waiting there, went upstairs +with her, and gave her in charge of a woman called Marion who opened the +door for them. +</p> + +<p> +During the whole time she was gone she stayed here with Marion, who +every morning assured her her Daddy would come that day. She said Marion +was very good to her, gave her toys and candies, cooked her meals and +played games with her. She cried often and was homesick, and Marion +never scolded her but used to take her in her arms and kiss her and tell +her stories. She never saw the man again until he came to take her away, +but sometimes the bell rang and Marion went out on the stairs and talked +to some one. +</p> + +<p> +One evening Marion said she was going home; it would be a long drive and +she must be a good girl. Marion dressed her and then gave her a glass of +milk, and kissed her a great many times and cried. Bébita cried too, for +she was sorry to leave Marion, but she wanted to go home. After that the +man came and took her downstairs to the taxi and told her to be very +quiet and she'd soon be back at Grasslands. It was dark and they went +through the city and then she got very sleepy and laid down on the seat. +</p> + +<p> +No trace of Marion, Larkin's confederate, could be found, and in fact no +especial effort was made to do so. The man was dead, the woman, who had +evidently treated the child with affectionate care, had fled into the +darkness where she belonged. The family, even Mrs. Janney, was contented +to let things drop and make an end. +</p> + +<p> +When it came to Larkin we had to piece out a good deal. We agreed that +he had started in fair and honest, had tried to make good and had +failed. At just what point he changed we couldn't be sure, but Ferguson +thought it was after Mrs. Price threatened to end the investigation. +Then he realized that his big chance was slipping by, determined to get +something out of it, and hit on the kidnaping. It was easy to see how he +could worm all the data he wanted out of Mrs. Price. From what she said +he'd evidently pumped her at their last meeting in town, finding out +just what her plans were, even to the fact that she intended taking the +extra cab from the rank round the corner. <i>I</i> thought that one thing +might have given him the whole idea. +</p> + +<p> +When they stopped at the book bindery he heard Miss Maitland tell Bébita +she would be gone a few minutes and knew that was his opportunity. He +took the child to the place he had ready for her, made a quick +change—not more than the shedding of his coat, cap and goggles—and ran +his car into the garage below, which of course he must have rented. Then +he lit out for the Fifth Avenue house, a bit late but ready to report in +case Miss Maitland didn't show up before him. Miss Maitland did—he must +have seen her go in—but he rang just the same, which showed what a +cunning devil he was. +</p> + +<p> +He must have been surprised when he didn't see anything in the papers, +but after he'd written the first "Clansmen" letter to Mrs. Price she +explained that and it made it smoother sailing for him. Knowing her as +well as he did, he planned the letters to scare her into silence, and +saw before he was through he had her exactly in the state he wanted. The +one place where his plot was weak was that an outsider had to drive the +rescue car. But he had to take a chance somewhere, and this was the best +place. He'd fixed it so neat that even if the outsider had informed on +him, he'd have been wary, and, as Ferguson thought, not shown up at all. +</p> + +<p> +He'd done it well; as well, we all agreed, as it could be done. What had +beaten him had been no man's cleverness, just something that neither he, +nor you, nor any of us could have foreseen. Ain't there a proverb about +the best laid plans of mice and men slipping up when you least expect +it? It was like the hand of something, that reached out sudden and came +down hard, laid him dead in the moment when the goal was in sight. +</p> + +<p> +As to Willitts, he was some boy! They found out that he was wanted in +England, well-known there as an expert safe-cracker and notorious jewel +thief. That's where he's gone, to live in a quiet little cell which will +be his home from this time forth. He said he hadn't been in New York +long before he heard of the Janney jewels and went into Mr. Price's +service. But he couldn't do anything while the family were in town. The +safe was right off the pantry—too many people about—and anyway it was +a new one, the finest kind, that would have baffled even his skill. He +would have left discouraged but one day Dixon let drop that the safe at +Grasslands was old-fashioned, put in years before by the former owners, +so he stayed on devoted and faithful. +</p> + +<p> +At Grasslands he had lots of time to try his hand on the ancient +contraption in the passage. He worked on it until he found the +combination and then he lay low for his opportunity. When the row came +and Mr. Price left, he stayed on with him. It was the best thing to do +as he could run in and out from Cedar Brook seeing the servants, with +whom he was careful to be friendly. +</p> + +<p> +Before this he'd got wise to the fact that something was up between Miss +Maitland and Mr. Price. He said it was his business to snoop and his +profession had got him into the way of doing it instinctive, but I'd +set it down as coming natural. Anyway he'd found out that there was a +secret between them; he'd surprise them murmuring in the hallways and +the library, quieting down quick if any one came along. He made the same +mistake as the rest of us, thought it was an affair of the heart and +grew mighty curious about it. He didn't explain why he was interested, +but if you asked me I'd say he had blackmail in the back of his head. +</p> + +<p> +On the afternoon of July the seventh he biked down from Cedar Brook to +take a look round and see how things were progressing. Familiar with the +ways of the house, he knew the family would be out and stole round past +Miss Maitland's study. No one was there, and, curious as he was, he +slipped in to do a little spying—Miss Maitland and Mr. Price separated +would be writing to each other and a letter might throw some light on +the darkness. +</p> + +<p> +He rummaged about among the papers but found nothing. Scattered over the +desk were bits of the trimming Miss Maitland had been sewing on; a pile +of the little rosebuds was lying on the top of her work basket. Reaching +over toward a bunch of letters he upset the basket, and, scared, he +swept up the contents with his handkerchief, putting them back as quick +as he could. This was the way he explained the presence of the rose in +the safe. He was shocked at any one thinking that he had tried to throw +suspicion on such a fine young lady. That night, taking the jewels, hot +and nervous, his glasses had blurred the way they do when your face +perspires. He had whisked out his handkerchief to wipe them, and no +doubt a rosebud lodged in the folds had fallen to the ground. Mr. +Ferguson didn't believe this—he thought the rose <i>was</i> a plant—but I +<i>did</i>. It was one of those queer, unexpected things that will happen and +that, for me, always puts a crimp in circumstantial evidence. +</p> + +<p> +After that he went round to the kitchen and heard of the general sortie +for that evening. Then he knew the time had come. He biked back to Cedar +Brook, saw Mr. Price, and went to his lodgings. Here he found his +landlady's child sick with croup and offered to go for the doctor, whose +house was not far from Berkeley. It fitted in just right, for if there +was any inquiry into his movements he could furnish a good reason why he +was late at the movies. Before he got to Grasslands he hid his wheel by +the roadside and took a short cut through the woods, lying low on the +edge of them until he saw the kitchen lights go out. Crossing the lawn, +the dogs ran at him barking, then got his scent and quieted down. At the +balcony he slipped off his rain coat, put on sneakers, unlocked the +front door with Mr. Price's key, and crept in. The job didn't take him +ten minutes; just as he finished he saw the box of Mr. Janney's cigars +and helped himself to one. He rubbed off his finger prints with an acid +used for that purpose, left the broken chair just where it was and +departed. +</p> + +<p> +In the woods he lit the cigar, carelessly throwing the band on the +ground. Fifteen minutes later he was at the movies with the Grasslands +help. When he saw in the papers that a light had been seen by the safe +at one-thirty every fear he had died, for at that time he was back at +Cedar Brook helping his landlady look after the sick child. +</p> + +<p> +He was too smart a crook to disappear right on top of the robbery, and +hung around saying he was looking for another place. He met up with +Larkin but at first didn't know he was a detective. When the offer came +from Ferguson he took it, intending to stay a while, then say his folks +in the old country needed him and slip away to Spain. It was the day +after he'd accepted Ferguson's offer that he learned what Larkin was, +and saw that both he and the Janneys had their suspicions of Chapman +Price. This disturbed him, but he couldn't throw up the job he'd just +taken without exciting remark. To be ready, however, he dug up the +jewels—he'd buried them in the woods—and put them handy under the +flooring of his room. +</p> + +<p> +One day, looking over Ferguson's things, he came on the cigar band in +the box on the bureau. It gave him a jar, for he couldn't see why it was +put there. He'd heard from the servants about Ferguson and Miss Maitland +walking home that night through the woods and began to wonder if maybe +they'd found the band. The thought ruffled him up considerably, and then +he put it out of his mind, telling himself it was one from a cigar +Ferguson had brought from Grasslands and smoked in his room. +Nevertheless, to be on the safe side, he threw it away, very much on the +alert, as you may guess. +</p> + +<p> +It wasn't a week later that he had the interview with Ferguson about the +band. Then he saw by the young man's manner and words why the little +crushed circle of paper had a meaning of its own, and knew that the time +had come to vanish. He still felt safe enough to do this without haste, +not rousing any suspicion by a too sudden departure. His opportunity +came quickly—on Friday morning he heard Ferguson tell the butler that +he was going to town and would be away for a day or two; by the time he +came back his valet would be far afield. +</p> + +<p> +Right after Ferguson's departure he put the jewels in a bag, and, +telling the butler the boss had given him the day and night off, +prepared to leave. He was crossing the hall when the telephone rang—my +message—and being wary of danger, answered it. It was only a lady +asking for Mr. Ferguson, and, calm and steady as his voice had made me, +started out for the station. Mice and men again!—I was the mouse this +time. Gracious, what a battered mouse I was! +</p> + +<p> +Well—that's all. The tangled threads are straightened out and the word +"End" goes at the bottom of this page. I'm glad to write it, glad to be +once again where you can say what you think, and talk to people like +they were harmless human beings without any dark secrets in their pasts +or presents, and, Oh, Gee, how glad I am to be home! Back in my own +little hole, back where there's only one servant and she a coon, back +where I'm familiar with the food and know how to eat it, and blessedest +of all, back to my own true husband, who thinks there's no sun or moon +or stars when I'm out of the house. I'm going to get a new rug for the +parlor, a fur-trimmed winter suit, a standing lamp with a Chinese shade, +a pair of skates—oh, dear, I'm at the bottom of the page and there's no +room for "End," but I <i>must</i> squeeze in that I got that reward—Mrs. +Janney said I'd earned every penny of it—and a wrist watch with a +circle of diamonds round it from Dick Ferguson, and—oh, pshaw! if I +keep on I'll never stop, so here goes, on a separate line +</p> +<div class="center level-3 section" id="the-end"> +<h3 class="level-3 pfirst section-title title">THE END</h3> +<p class="pfirst x-large">BOOKS BY GERALDINE BONNER +</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block"> +<div class="line"> +<cite class="italics">Miss Maitland, Private Secretary</cite></div> +<div class="line"> +<cite class="italics">Treasure and Trouble Therewith</cite></div> +<div class="line"> +<cite class="italics">The Girl at Central</cite></div> +<div class="line"> +<cite class="italics">The Black Eagle Mystery</cite></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +</div> +</div> + +<div style='display:block;margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISS MAITLAND PRIVATE SECRETARY ***</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This file should be named 35504-h.htm or 35504-h.zip</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in https://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/5/0/35504/</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law 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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Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fc2ba08 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #35504 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/35504) diff --git a/old/35504-8.txt b/old/35504-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c71f52f --- /dev/null +++ b/old/35504-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9345 @@ + MISS MAITLAND PRIVATE SECRETARY + + +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 http://www.gutenberg.org/license. + +Title: Miss Maitland Private Secretary + +Author: Geraldine Bonner + +Release Date: March 06, 2011 [EBook #35504] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISS MAITLAND PRIVATE +SECRETARY *** + + + + +Produced by Darleen Dove, Mary Meehan, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. + +This file was produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries. + + + + MISS MAITLAND PRIVATE SECRETARY + BY GERALDINE BONNER + + + + + AUTHOR OF "THE EMIGRANT TRAIL," "THE GIRL AT CENTRAL," "TREASURE AND + TROUBLE THEREWITH," ETC. + + + + + ILLUSTRATED BY + A. I. KELLER + + + + + D. APPLETON AND COMPANY + NEW YORK LONDON + 1919 + + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY + D. APPLETON AND COMPANY + + + + + COPYRIGHT 1918, 1919, BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY + + + + + PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA + + + + +[Illustration: _Rising into the white wash of moonlight came Suzanne_] + + + + +CONTENTS + + + - LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + - CHAPTER I--THE PARTING OF THE WAYS + - CHAPTER II--MISS MAITLAND GETS A LETTER + - CHAPTER III--ANOTHER LETTER AND WHAT FOLLOWED IT + - CHAPTER IV--THE CIGAR BAND + - CHAPTER V--ROBBERY IN HIGH PLACES + - CHAPTER VI--POOR MR. JANNEY! + - CHAPTER VII--CONCERNING DETECTIVES + - CHAPTER VIII--MOLLY'S STORY + - CHAPTER IX--GOOD HUNTING IN BERKELEY + - CHAPTER X--MOLLY'S STORY + - CHAPTER XI--FERGUSON'S IDEA + - CHAPTER XII--THE MAN WHO WOULDN'T TELL + - CHAPTER XIII--MOLLY'S STORY + - CHAPTER XIV--A CHAPTER ABOUT BAD TEMPERS + - CHAPTER XV--WHAT HAPPENED ON FRIDAY + - CHAPTER XVI--MOLLY'S STORY + - CHAPTER XVII--MISS MAITLAND IN A NEW LIGHT + - CHAPTER XVIII--THE HOUSE IN GAYLE STREET + - CHAPTER XIX--MOLLY'S STORY + - CHAPTER XX--MOLLY'S STORY + - CHAPTER XXI--SIGNED "CLANSMEN" + - CHAPTER XXII--SUZANNE FINDS A FRIEND + - CHAPTER XXIII--MOLLY'S STORY + - CHAPTER XXIV--CARDS ON THE TABLE + - CHAPTER XXV--MOLLY'S STORY + - CHAPTER XXVI--THE COUNTER PLOT + - CHAPTER XXVII--NIGHT ON THE CRESSON PIKE + - CHAPTER XXVIII--THE MAN IN THE BOAT + - CHAPTER XXIX--MISS MAITLAND EXPLAINS + - CHAPTER XXX--MOLLY'S STORY + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + +Rising into the white wash of moonlight came Suzanne +You've done one thing to me that you are going to regret +His face was ludicrous in its enraged enmity +Ferguson saw him in silhouette, a large, humped body with bent head + + + MISS MAITLAND PRIVATE SECRETARY + + + + + +CHAPTER I--THE PARTING OF THE WAYS + + +Chapman Price was leaving Grasslands. Events had been rapidly advancing +to that point for the last three months, slowly advancing for the last +three years. Everybody who knew the Prices and the Janneys said it was +inevitable, and people who didn't know them but read about them in the +"society papers" could give quite glibly the reasons why Mrs. Chapman +Price was going to separate from her husband. + +His friends said it was her fault; Suzanne Price was enough to drive any +man away from her--selfish, exacting, bad tempered, a spoiled child of +wealth. Chappie had been a first-rate fellow when he married her and +she'd nagged and tormented him past bearing. _Her_ friends had a +different story; Chapman Price was no good, had neglected her, was an +idler and a spendthrift. Hadn't the Janneys set him up in business over +and over and found it hopeless? What he had wanted was her money, and +people had told her so; her mother had begged her to give him up, but +she would have him and learned her lesson, poor girl! Those in the +Janney circle said there would have been a divorce long before if it +hadn't been for the child. _She_ had held them together, kept them in a +sort of hostile, embattled partnership for years. And then, finally, +that link broke and Chapman Price had to go. + +There had been a last conclave in the library that morning, Mrs. Janney +presiding. Then they separated, silent and gloomy--a household of eight +years, even an uncongenial one, isn't broken up without the sense of +finality weighing on its members. Chapman had gone to his rooms and +flung orders at his valet to pack up, and Suzanne had gone to hers, +thrown herself on the sofa, and sniffed salts with her eyes shut. Mr. +and Mrs. Janney repaired to the wide shaded balcony and there talked it +over in low tones. They were immensely relieved that it was at last +settled, though of course there would be the unpleasantness of a divorce +and the attending gossip. Mr. Janney hated gossip, but his wife, who had +risen from a Pittsburg suburb to her present proud eminence, was too +battle-scarred a veteran to mind a little thing like that. + +As they talked, their eyes wandered over a delightful prospect. First a +strip of velvet lawn, then a terrace and balustraded walk, and beyond +that the enameled brilliance of long gardens where flowers grew in +masses, thick borders, and delicate spatterings, bright against the +green. Back of the gardens were more lawns, shaven close and dappled +with tree shadows, then woods--Mrs. Janney's far acres--on this fine +morning all shimmering and astir with a light, salt-tinged breeze. +Grasslands was on the northern side of Long Island, only half a mile +from the Sound through the seclusion of its own woods. + +It was quite a show place, the house a great, rambling, brown building +with slanting, shingled roofs and a flanking rim of balconies. Behind it +the sun struck fire from the glass of long greenhouses, and the tops of +garages, stables and out-buildings rose above concealing shrubberies and +trellises draped with the pink mantle of the rambler. Mrs. Janney had +bought it after her position was assured, paying a price that made all +Long Island real estate men glad at heart. + +Sitting in a wicker chair, a bag of knitting hanging from its arm, she +looked the proper head for such an establishment. She was fifty-four, +large--increasing stoutness was one of her minor trials--and was still a +handsome woman who "took care of herself." Her morning dress of white +embroidered muslin had been made by an artist. Her gray hair, creased by +a "permanent wave," was artfully disposed to show the fine shape of her +head and conceal the necessary switch. She was too naturally endowed +with good taste to indicate her wealth by vulgar display, and her hands +showed few rings; the modest brooch of amethysts fastening the neck of +her bodice was her sole ornament. And this was all the more commendable, +as Mrs. Janney had wonderful jewels of which she was very proud. + +Five years before, she had married Samuel Van Zile Janney, who now sat +opposite her clothed in white flannels and looking distressed. He was a +small, thin, elderly man, with a pointed gray beard and a general air of +cool, dry finish. No one had ever thought old Sam Janney would marry +again. He had lost his wife ages ago and had been a sort of historic +landmark for the last twenty years, living desolately at his club and +knowing everybody who was worth while. Of course he had family, endless +family, and thought a lot of it and all that sort of thing. So his +marriage to the Pittsburg widow came as a shock, and then his world +said: "Oh, well, the old chap wants a home and he's going to get it--a +choice of homes--the house on upper Fifth Avenue, the place at Palm +Beach and Grasslands." + +It had been a very happy marriage, for Sam Janney with his traditions +and his conventions was a person of infinite tact, and he loved and +admired his wife. The one matter upon which they ever disagreed was +Suzanne. She had been foolishly indulged, her caprices and extravagances +were maddening, her manners on occasions extremely bad. Mr. Janney, who +had beautiful manners of his own, deplored it, also the amount of money +her mother allowed her; for the fortune was all Mrs. Janney's, Suzanne +having been left dependent on her bounty. + +His wife, who had managed everything else so well, resented these +criticisms on what should have been the completest example of her +competence. She also resented them because she knew they were true. With +all her cleverness and all her capability she had not succeeded with her +daughter. The girl had got beyond her; the unfortunate marriage with +Chapman Price had been the climax of a youth of willfulness and +insubordination. Suzanne's affairs, Suzanne's future, Suzanne herself +were subjects that husband and wife avoided, except, as in the present +instance, when they were the only subjects in both their minds. + +Presently their low-toned murmurings were interrupted by the appearance +of Dixon, the butler, announcing lunch. + +"Mrs. Price," he said, "will not be down--she has a headache." + +Mrs. Janney rose, looking at the man. He had been in her service for +years, was one of the first outward and visible signs of her growth in +affluence. She was sure that he knew what had happened, but her face was +unrevealing as a mask, as she said: + +"See that she gets something. Will Mr. Price take his lunch upstairs?" + +"No, Madam," returned the man quietly, "Mr. Price is coming down." + +It was a ghastly meal--three of them eating sumptuous food, waited on by +two men hardly less silent than they were. It wouldn't have been so +unbearable if Bbita, Suzanne's daughter, had been there to lift the +curse off it with her artless chatter, or Esther Maitland, the social +secretary, who had acquired a habit of talking with Mr. Janney when the +rest of the family were held in the dumbness of wrath. But Bbita was +spending the morning with a little chum and Miss Maitland was lunching +with a friend in the village. + +Chapman Price, as if anxious to show how little he cared, ate everything +that was passed, and prolonged the misery by second helpings. Mrs. +Janney could have beaten him, she was so angry. Once she glanced at him +and met his eyes, insolently defiant, and as full of hostility as her +own. They were vital eyes, dark and bold, and were set in a handsome +face. At the time of his marriage he had been known as "Beauty Price" +and it was his good looks which had caught the capricious fancy of +Suzanne. In the eight years since then they had suffered, the firmly +modeled contours had grown thin and hard, the mouth had set in an ugly +line, the brows had creased by a frown of sulky resentment. But he was +still a noticeable figure, six feet, lean and agile, with a skin as +brown as a nut and a crown of black hair brushed to a glossy smoothness. +Many women continued to describe Chapman Price as "a perfect Adonis." + +When they rose from the table he stood aside to let his parents-in-law +pass out before him. They brushed by, feeling exceedingly uncomfortable +and wanting to get away as quickly as their dignity would permit. They +dreaded a last flare-up of his temper, notoriously violent and +uncontrolled, one of the attributes that had made him so unacceptable. +In the hall at the stair foot they half turned to him, swept him with +cold looks and were mumbling vague sounds that might have been dismissal +or farewell, when he suddenly raised his voice in a loud, combative +note: + +"Oh, don't bother to be polite. There's no love between us and there +needn't be any hypocrisies. You want to get rid of me and I want to go. +But before I do, I'd like to say something." He drew a step nearer, his +face suddenly suffused with a dark flush, his eyes set and narrowed. +"You've done one thing to me that you're going to regret--stolen my +child. Yes," in answer to a protesting sound from Mr. Janney, "_stolen_ +her--that's what I said. You think you can hide behind your money bags +and do what you like. Maybe you can nine times, but there's a tenth when +things don't work the way you've expected. Watch out for it--it's due +now." + + +[Illustration: _You've done one thing to me that you are going to +regret_] + + +His voice was raised, loud, furious, threatening. The dining room door +flew open and Dixon appeared on the threshold in alarmed consternation. +Mr. Janney stepped forward belligerently: + +"Chapman, now look here--" + +Mrs. Janney laid a hand on her husband's arm: + +"Don't answer him, Sam," then to Chapman, her face stony in its +controlled passion, "I want no more words with you. Our affairs are +finished. Kindly leave the house as soon as possible." She turned to the +butler who was staring at them with dropped jaw: "Shut that door, Dixon, +and stay where you belong." The sound of footsteps at the stair-head +caught her ear. "The other servants are coming: we'll have an audience +for this pleasant scene. We'd better go, Sam, as Chapman doesn't seem to +have heard my request for him to leave, the only thing for us is to +leave ourselves." + +She swept her husband off across the hall toward the balcony. Behind +them the young man's voice rose: + +"Oh don't have any fears. I'm going. But I may come back--that's what +you want to remember--I may come back to settle the score." + +Then they heard his footsteps mounting the stairs in a long, leaping +run. + +In his own room he found his valet, Willitts, a small, fair-haired young +Englishman, closing the trunks. The door was open and he had a suspicion +that the footsteps Mrs. Janney had heard were probably Willitts'. He +didn't care, he didn't care what Willitts had heard. The man knew +anyhow; they _all_ knew. There wasn't a servant in the house or a soul +in the village who wouldn't by to-morrow be telling how the Janneys had +thrown him out and were planning to get possession of his child. + +He strode about the room, tumbled the neat piles of cravats and +handkerchiefs on the bureau, yanked up the blinds. In his still seething +passion he muttered curses at everything, the clothes that lay across +chair backs, the boots that he kicked as he walked, finally the valet +who once got in his way. The man made no answer, did not appear to +notice it, but went on with his work, silent, unobtrusive, competent. +Presently Chapman became quieter; the storm was receding. He fell into a +chair, sat sunk in moody reflection, and, after studying the shining +toes of his shoes for some minutes, looked at the man and said, "Forget +it, Willitts. I was mad straight through." + +It may have been a capacity to make such amends that caused all servants +to like Chapman Price. Willitts, who had been in his service for nearly +a year, was known to be devoted to him. + +An hour later, when they left, the house had an air of desertion. The +large lower hall, with vistas of stately rooms through arched doorways, +was as silent as the Sleeping Beauty's palace. Chapman's glance swept it +all--rich and still, gleams of parquette showing beyond the Persian +rugs, curtains too heavily splendid for the breeze to stir, flowers in +glowing masses, the big motor, visible through the wide-flung hall door, +a finishing touch in the picture. It was the perfect expression of a +carefully devised luxury, a luxury which for the last eight years had +lapped him in slothful ease. + +As he came out on the verandah steps a voice hailed him and he stopped, +the sullen ill humor of his face breaking into a smile. Across the lawn, +running with fleet steps, came his daughter Bbita. Laughing and gay +with welcome, she was as fresh as a morning rose. Her hat, slipped to +her neck, showed the glistening gold of her hair back-blown in ruffled +curls; her rapid passage threw her dress up over her bare, sunburned +knees, and her little feet in black-strapped slippers sped over the +grass. Healthy, happy, surrounded by love which she returned with a +child's sweet democracy, she was enchanting and Chapman adored her. + +"Where are you going, Popsy?" she cried and, dodging round the back of +the motor, came panting up the steps. Chapman sat down on the top, and +drew her between his knees. Otto, the chauffeur, and Willitts with the +bags, watched them with covert interest, ready to avert their eyes if +Chapman should look their way. The nurse, an elderly woman, came slowly +across the grass, also watching. + +"To town," said the young man, scrutinizing the lovely, rosy face, with +its deep blue eyes raised to his. + +"For how long?" She was used to her father going to town and not +reappearing for several days. + +"Oh, I don't know; longer than usual, though, I guess. Going to miss +me?" + +"Um, I always miss you, Popsy. Will you bring me something when you come +back?" + +"Yes, or maybe I'll send it. What do you want?" + +"A 'lectric torch--one that shines. Polly's got one"--Polly was the +little friend she had been visiting--"I want one like Polly's." + +"All right. A 'lectric torch." + +"I'm going to get one, Annie," she cried triumphantly to the nurse; +"Popsy's going to send me one." Then turning back to her father, "Take +me to the station with you?" + +Willitts and the chauffeur exchanged a glance. The nurse made a quick +forward movement, suddenly gently authoritative: + +"No, no, darling. You can't drive now. It's time to go in and take jour +rest." + +Bbita looked mutinous, but her father, drawing her to him and kissing +her, rose: + +"I can't honey-bun. I'm in a hurry and there wouldn't be any fun just +driving down to the village and back. You run along with Annie now and +as soon as I get to town I'll buy you the torch and send it." + +The nurse mounted the steps, took the child's hand, and together they +stood watching Chapman as he got in. Willitts took the seat beside the +chauffeur, adroitly disposing his legs among a pile of suitcases, golf +bags, umbrellas and walking sticks. As the car started Chapman looked +back at his daughter. She was regarding him with the intent, grave +interest, a little wistful, with which children watch a departure. At +the sight of his face, she smiled, pranced a little, and called: + +"Good-by, Popsy dear. Don't forget the torch. Come back soon," and waved +her free hand. + +Chapman gave an answering wave and the big car rolled off with a cool +crackle of gravel. + +The village--the spotless, prosperous village of Berkeley enriched by +the great estates about it--was a half mile from Grasslands' +wrought-iron gates. The road passed through woods, opening here and +there to afford glimpses of emerald lawns backed by large houses, with +the slope of awnings above their balconies. On either side of this +highway ran a shady path, worn hard by the feet of pedestrians and the +wheels of bicycles. + +As the Janney motor turned out into the road a young woman was walking +along one of these paths, returning to Grasslands. She appeared to be +engrossed in thought, her step loitering, her eyes down-cast, a slight +line showing between her brows. Out of range of the sun she had let her +parasol droop over her shoulder and its green disk made a charming +background for her head. She wore no hat and against the taut silk her +hair showed a glossy, burnished brown. It was beautiful hair, growing +low on her forehead and waving backward in loose undulations to the +thick knot at the nape of her neck. Her skin was pale, her eyes, under +long brows that lifted slightly at the outer ends, deep-set, narrow and +dark. She was hardly handsome, but people noticed her, wondered why they +did, and then said she was "artistic-looking," or maybe it was just +personality; anyway, say what you like, there was something about her +that caught your eye. Dressed entirely in white, a slim, sunburned hand +coiled round the parasol handle, her throat left bare by a sailor +collar, she was as trim, as flecklessly dainty, graceful and comely as a +picture-girl painted on the green canvas of the trees. + +At the sight of her Chapman, who had been lounging in the tonneau, +started and his morose eye brightened. As the motor ran toward her, she +looked up, saw who it was, and in the moment of passing, inclined her +head in a grave salutation. Chapman leaned forward and touched the +chauffeur on the shoulder. + +"Just stop for a minute, Otto, I want to speak to Miss Maitland." + +She did not see that the car had stopped or hear the footstep on the +grass behind her. Chapman's voice was low: + +"Hullo, Esther. Don't be in such a hurry. I'm going." + +She wheeled, evidently startled, her face disturbed and unsmiling. + +"Oh! Do you mean _really_ going?" + +"Yes. Parting of the ways--all that sort of thing." + +He eyed her with a curious, watching interest and she returned the look, +her own uneasily intent. + +"Why do you stop to tell me that," was what she said. "Everybody knew it +was coming." + +He shrugged and then smiled, a smile full of meaning: + +"I thought you'd like to hear it--from _me_, first hand. I'll be a free +man in a year." + +She stood for a moment looking at the ground, then lifting the parasol +over her head, said: + +"If you're going to catch the three forty-five you'd better hurry." + +His smile deepened, showed a roguish malice, and as he turned from her, +raising his hat, he murmured just loud enough for her to hear: + +"Thanks for reminding me. I wouldn't miss that train for a farm--I'm +devilish keen to get to the city." + +He ran back to the waiting motor and the girl resumed her walk, her step +even slower than before, her face down-drooped in frowning reverie. + +There was no chair car on the three forty-five and Chapman had to travel +in the common coach, Willitts and the luggage crowded into the seat +behind him. It was an hour and a half run to the Pennsylvania Station +and he spent the time thinking over the situation and arranging his +future. His business--Long Island real estate--had been allowed to go to +the dogs. He would have to get busy in earnest, and, with his friends +and large acquaintance to throw things in his way, he could put it on a +paying basis. His expenses would have to be cut down to the bone. He'd +give up his chambers, a suite in a bachelor apartment--Willitts could +find him a cheap room somewhere--and of course he'd give up Willitts. +That had been already arranged and the faithful soul had asked leave to +help him in the move and stay with him till a new job was found. He +would keep his car--it would be necessary in his business--and could be +stored in the garage at Cedar Brook where he'd spend his week-ends with +the Hartleys. Joe Hartley was one of his best friends, knew all about +his marriage and had counseled a separation more than a year ago. He'd +probably spend a good deal of his time at Cedar Brook, it was a growing +place; unfortunate that it should be the next station after Berkeley, +but it could not be helped. He was bound to run into the Janney outfit +and he'd have to get used to it. + +The train was entering the tunnel when he gave Willitts his +instructions--go to the apartment and pack up, then see about a room. He +himself would look up some places he knew of, and if he found anything +suitable he'd come back to the apartment and the things could be moved +to-morrow. They separated in the depot, Willitts and the luggage in a +taxi, Chapman on foot. But that part of the city to which he took his +way, dingy, unkempt, remote from the section where his kind dwelt, was +not a place where Chapman Price, fallen from his high estate as he was, +would have chosen to house himself. + + + + +CHAPTER II--MISS MAITLAND GETS A LETTER + + +It was Thursday morning, three days after her husband's departure, and +Suzanne was sitting in the window seat of her room looking across the +green distances to where the roof of Dick Ferguson's place, Council +Oaks, rose above the tree tops. Council Oaks adjoined Grasslands, there +was a short cut which connected them--a path through the woods. Before +Mrs. Janney bought Grasslands the path had become moss-grown, almost +obliterated. Then when she took possession the two households wore it +bare again. The servants found it shortened the walk from kitchen to +kitchen; Mr. Janney often footed its green windings; Dick Ferguson's +father had been one of his cronies, and Dick Ferguson himself was the +most constant traveler of them all. + +Council Oaks was a very old place; it had been in the Ferguson family +since the days when the British governors rolled over Long Island in +their lumbering coaches. Before that the Indians had used it for a +council ground, their tepees pitched under the shade of the four giant +oaks from which it took its name. The Fergusons had kept the farm house, +built after the Revolution, adding wings to it, till it now extended in +a long, sprawl of white buildings, with the original worn stone as a +step to its knockered front door, and the low, raftered ceilings, plank +floors, and deep-mouthed fireplaces of its early occupation. + +There Dick Ferguson lived all summer, going to town at intervals to +attend to the business of the Ferguson estate, for, like the young man +in the Bible, he had great possessions. The dead and gone Fergusons had +been canny and thrifty, bought land far beyond the city limits and sat +in their offices and waited until the town grew round it. It was known +among the present owner's intimates that he disapproved of this method +of enrichment, and that his extensive charities and endowments were an +attempt to pay back what he felt he owed. He was very silent about them, +only a few knew of the many secret channels through which the Ferguson +millions were being diverted to the relief of the people. + +But none of this seriousness showed on the outside. If you didn't know +him well Dick Ferguson was the last person you would suspect of a sense +of responsibility or a view of life that was anything but easy-going and +light-hearted. People described him as a nice chap, not a bit spoiled by +his money, just a big, jolly boy, simple and unaffected. He looked the +part with his long, lank figure, leggy as a young colt, his shock of +light brown hair that never would lie flat, his freckled, irregular face +with gray eyes that had an engaging way of closing when he laughed. He +did this a good deal and it may have been one of the reasons why so many +people liked him. And he also had a capacity for listening to +long-winded tales of trouble, which may have been another. He was +twenty-nine years old and still unmarried, and that was his own fault as +any one would tell you. + +When Sam Janney married the Pittsburg widow Dick Ferguson became a +friend of the family. He fitted in very well, for he was sympathetic and +understanding and the Janneys had troubles to tell. He heard all about +Chapman's shortcomings; a little from old Sam who was not expansive, +more from Mrs. Janney, and most from Suzanne. He was very sorry for her +and gave her good advice. "A poor little bit of bluff," he called her to +himself, and then would stroll over to Grasslands and spend an hour with +her trying to cheer her up. + +He spent a good many hours this way and the time came when Suzanne began +to wait and watch for his coming. + +Sitting now in the cushioned window seat she was wondering if he would +come that morning and she could get him off in the garden and tell him +that Chapman was gone. She saw herself saying it with lowered eyes and +delicately demure phrases. She would frankly admit she was glad it was +over, glad she would be free once more, for in the autumn she would go +to Reno and begin proceedings for a divorce. + +At this thought she subsided against the cushions, and closed her eyes +smiling softly. Seen thus, the bright sunlight tempered by filmy +curtains, she was a pretty woman, looking very girlish for her +twenty-eight years. This was partly due to her extreme slenderness and +partly to her blonde coloring. Both had been preserved with sedulous +care: the one matter in which she exercised self-restraint was her food, +the one occasion on which she showed patience was when her maid was +washing her hair with a solution of peroxide. + +Every window in the large, luxurious room was open and through them +drifted a flow of air, scented with the sea and the breath of flowers. +Then rising on the stillness came the sound of voices--a man's and a +woman's--from the balcony below. They were Mr. Janney's and Miss +Maitland's--the secretary was preparing to read the morning papers to +her employer. + +Suzanne opened her eyes and sat up, the smile dying from her lips. The +dreamy complacence left her face and was replaced by a look of brooding +irritation. It changed her so completely that she ceased to be +pretty--suddenly showed her years, and was revealed as a woman, already +fading, preyed upon by secret vexations. + +She rose adjusting her dress, a marvelous creation of thin white +material with floating edges of lace. She went to the mirror, powdered +her face and touched her lips with a stick of red salve, then studied +her reflection. It should have been satisfying, delicate, fragile, a +lovely, ethereal creature, with baby blue eyes and silky, maize-colored +hair. It was not to be believed that any man could look at Esther +Maitland when she was by--and yet--and yet--! She turned from the mirror +with an angry mutter and went downstairs. + +On the balcony Miss Maitland was looking over the papers with Mr. Janney +opposite waiting to be read to. Suzanne sat down near them where she +could command the place in the woods where the path from Council Oaks +struck into the lawn. With a sidelong eye she noted the Secretary's hand +on the edge of the paper--narrow, satin-skinned, with fingers finely +tapering and pink-tipped. _Her_ fingers were short and spatulate, +showing her common blood, and all the pink on them had to be applied +with a chamois. Miss Maitland began to read--the war news first was the +rule--and her voice was a pleasure to hear, cultivated, soft, musical. +Suzanne, for all her expensive education and subsequent efforts, had +never been able to refine hers; the ugly Pittsburg burr would crop out. + +A gnawing fancy that she had been fighting against for weeks rose +suddenly into jealous conviction. This girl--a penniless nobody--had a +quality, an air, a distinction, that she with all her advantages had +never been able to acquire, _could_ never acquire. It was something +innate, something you were born with, something that made you fitted for +any sphere. Immovable, apparently absorbed in the reading, Suzanne began +to think how she could induce her mother to dispense with the services +of the Social Secretary. + +When the war news was finished Miss Maitland passed on to the news of +the day. On this particular morning it was varied and interesting: A +Western senator had attacked the President's policy with unseemly vigor; +the mysterious murder of a woman in Chicago had developed a new suspect; +a California mob had nearly killed a Japanese student; and in the New +York loft district a strike of shirtwaist makers had attained the +proportions of a riot in which one of the pickets had stabbed a +policeman with a hatpin. + +Mr. Janney was shocked at these horrors, but he always liked to hear +them. Miss Maitland had to stop reading and listen to a theory he had +evolved about the Chicago murder--it was the woman's husband and he +demonstrated how this was possible. Then he took up the shirtwaist +strike with a fussy disapproval--they got nothing by violence, only set +the public against them and their cause. Miss Maitland was inclined to +argue about it; thought there was something to say for their methods and +said it. + +Suzanne listened uncomprehending, unable to join in or to follow. She +had heard such arguments before and had to sit silent, feeling a fool. +The girl didn't know her place, talked as if she were their equal, +talked to Dick that way, and Dick had been interested, giving her an +attention he never gave Suzanne. Mr. Janney was doing it now, leaning +out of his chair, voicing his hope that a speedy vengeance would +overtake the picket who had made her escape in the mle. + +The conversation was brought to an end by the appearance of Mrs. Janney. +It was time for the mail; Otto had gone for it an hour ago. Before its +arrival Mrs. Janney wanted their answers about two dinner invitations +which had just come by telephone. One was for herself and Sam--Sunday +night at the Delavalles--and the other was from Dick Ferguson for +to-night--all of them, very informally--just himself and Ham Lorimer who +was staying there. + +Mr. Janney agreed to both and in answer to her mother's glance Suzanne +said languidly, "Yes, she'd go to-night--there was nothing else to do." + +"And he wants you too, Miss Maitland," said Mrs. Janney, turning to the +Secretary. "You'll come, won't you?" + +Miss Maitland said she would and that it was very kind of Mr. Ferguson +to ask her. Mr. and Mrs. Janney exchanged a gratified glance; they were +much attached to the Secretary and felt that their lordly circle ignored +her existence more than was necessary or kindly. Suzanne said nothing, +but the edges of her small upper teeth set close on her under lip, and +her nostrils quivered with a deep-drawn breath. + +Mrs. Janney gave orders for messages of acceptance to be sent, then sank +into a chair, remarking to her husband: + +"I'm glad you'll go to the Delavalles. It's to be a large dinner. I'll +wear my emeralds." + +To which Mr. Janney murmured: + +"By all means, my dear. The Delavalles will like to see them." + +Mrs. Janney's emeralds were famous; they had once belonged to Maria +Theresa. As old Sam thought of them he smiled, for he knew why his wife +had decided to wear them. In her climbing days, before her marriage to +him had secured her position, the Delavalles had snubbed her. Now she +was going to snub them, not in any obvious, vulgar way, but finely as +was her wont, with the assistance of himself and Maria Theresa. + +The motor came into view gliding up the long drive and the waiting group +roused into expectant animation. Mr. Janney rose, kicking his trouser +legs into shape, Miss Maitland gathered up the papers, and Mrs. Janney +went to the top of the steps. In the tonneau, her body encircled by +Annie's restraining arm, Bbita stood, waving an electric torch and +caroling joyfully: + +"It's come--it's come. It was sent to me, in a box, with my name on it." + +She leaped out, rushing up the steps to display her treasure, Annie +following with the mail. There was quite a bunch of it which Mrs. Janney +distributed--several for Sam, a pile for herself, one for Suzanne and +one for Miss Maitland. They settled down to it amid a crackling of torn +envelopes, Bbita darting from one to the other. + +She tried her mother first: + +"Mummy, look. You just press this and the light comes out at the other +end." + +Suzanne's eyes on her letter did not lift, and Bbita laid a soft little +hand on the tinted cheek: + +"Mummy, do _please_ look." + +Suzanne pushed the hand away with an angry movement. + +"Let me alone, Bbita," she said sharply and, getting up, thrust the +child out of her way and went into the house. + +For a moment Bbita was astonished. Her mother, who was so often cross +to other people, was rarely so to her. But the torch was too enthralling +for any other subject to occupy her thoughts and she turned to her +grandfather, reading a business communication held out in front of his +nose for he had on the wrong glasses. She crowded in under his arm and +sparked the torch at him waiting to see his delighted surprise. But he +only drew her close, kissed her cheek and murmured without moving his +eyes: + +"Yes, darling. It's wonderful." + +That was not what she wanted so she tried her grandmother: + +"Gran, _do_ look at my torch." + +Gran looked, not at the torch at all but at Bbita's face, smiled into +it, said, "Dearest, it's lovely and I'm so glad it's come," and went +back to her reading. + +It was all disappointing, and Bbita, as a last resource, had to try +Miss Maitland, who, if not a relation, was always sympathetic and +responsive. The Secretary was reading too, holding her letter up high, +almost in front of her face. Bbita laid a sly finger on the top of it, +drew it down and sparked the torch right at Miss Maitland. + +In the shoot of brilliant light the Secretary's face was like that of a +stranger--hard and thin, the mouth slightly open, the eyes staring +blankly at Bbita as if they had never seen her before. For a second the +child was dumb, held in a scared amazement, then backing away she +faltered: + +"Why--why--how funny you look!" + +The words seemed to bring Miss Maitland back to her usual, pleasant +aspect. She drew a deep breath, smiled and said: + +"I was thinking, that was all--something I was reading here. The torch +is beautiful; you must let me try it, but not now, I have to go. I've +read the papers to Gramp and I've work to do in my study." + +Any one who knew Miss Maitland well might have noticed a forced +sprightliness in her voice. But no one was listening; Suzanne had gone +and Mr. and Mrs. Janney were engrossed in their correspondence. She +stole a look at them, saw them unheeding and, with a farewell nod to +Bbita, rose and crossed the balcony. As she entered the house, the will +that had made her smile, maintained her voice at its clear, fresh note, +relaxed. Her face sharpened, its soft curves grew rigid, her lips closed +in a narrow line. With noiseless steps she ran through the wide foyer +hall and down a passage that led to the room, reserved for her use and +called her study. Here, locking the door, she came to a stand, her hands +clasped against her breast, her eyes fixed and tragic, a figure of +consternation. + + + + +CHAPTER III--ANOTHER LETTER AND WHAT FOLLOWED IT + + +Suzanne, her letter crumpled in her hand, had gone directly to her own +room. There she read it for the second time, its baleful import sinking +deeper into her consciousness with every sentence. It was in typewriting +and bore the Berkeley postmark: + + "_Dear Mrs. Price_: + + "This is just a line to give your memory and your conscience a + jog. Your bridge debts are accumulating. Also, I hear, there are + dressmakers and milliners in town who are growing restive. If + there was insufficient means I wouldn't bother you, but any one + who dresses and spends as you do hasn't that excuse. Perhaps you + don't know what is being said and _felt_. Believe me you + wouldn't like it; neither would Mrs. Janney. It is for her sake + that I am warning you. I don't want to see her hurt and + humiliated as she would be if this comes out in _The + Eavesdropper_, and it will unless you act quickly. 'There's a + chiel among you takin' notes' and that chiel's had a line on you + for some time. So take these words to heart and as the boys say, + 'Come across.' + + "_A Friend._" + +Ever since the opening of the season the summer colony of which Berkeley +was the hub had been the subject of paragraphs--more or less +scandalous--appearing in _The Eavesdropper_. The paper, a scurrilous +weekly, had evidently some inside informer, for most of the disclosures +were true and could only have been obtained by a member of the +community. Suzanne, whose debts would make racy reading, had quaked +every time she opened it. So far she had been spared, and she had hoped +to escape by a gradual clearing off of her obligations. But she had not +been able to do it--unforeseen things had happened. And now the dreaded +had come to pass--she would be written up in _The Eavesdropper_. + +Though her allowance had been princely she had kept on going over it +ever since her marriage and her mother had kept on covering the deficit. +But last autumn Mrs. Janney had lost both patience and temper and put +her foot down with a final stamp. Then the winter had come, a feverish, +crowded winter of endless parties and endless card playing, and Suzanne +had somehow gone over it again, gone over--she didn't dare to think of +what she owed. Tradespeople had threatened her, she was afraid to go to +her mother, she told lies and made promises, and at that juncture a +woman friend acquainted her with the mystery of stocks--easy money to be +made in speculation. She had tried that and made a good deal--almost +cleared her score--and then in April all her stocks suddenly went down. +Inquiries revealed the fact that stocks did not always stay down and +reassured she set forth on a zestful orgy of renewed bridge and summer +outfitting. But the stocks never came up, they remained down, as far +down as they could get, against the bottom. + +She felt as if she was there herself as she reviewed her position. + +She couldn't let it be known. She would be ruined, called dishonest; the +yellow papers might get it--they were always writing things against the +rich. Dick Ferguson would see it, and he despised people who didn't pay +their bills; she had heard him say so to Mr. Janney, remembered his tone +of contempt. There would be no use lying to him for she felt bitterly +certain that Mr. Janney had told him what her mother gave her. There was +nothing for it but to go to Mrs. Janney and she quailed at the thought, +for her mother, forgiving unto seventy times seven, at seventy times +eight could be resolute and relentless. But it was the one way out and +she had to take it. + +When no engagements claimed her afternoons Mrs. Janney went for a drive +at four. At lunch she announced her intention of going out in the open +car and asked if any of the others wanted to come. All refused: Mr. +Janney was contemplating a ride, Suzanne would rest, Miss Maitland had +some sewing to do on her dress for that evening. Both Suzanne and Miss +Maitland were very quiet and appeared to suffer from a loss of appetite. +After the meal the Secretary went upstairs and Suzanne followed. + +She waited until Mr. Janney was safely started on his ride, then, +feeling sick and wan, crossed the hall to her mother's boudoir. Mrs. +Janney was at her desk writing letters, with Elspeth, her maid, a +gray-haired, sturdy Scotch woman, standing by the table opening packages +that had just arrived from town. Elspeth, like most of Mrs. Janney's +servants, had been in her employ for years, entering her service in the +old Pittsburg days and being promoted to the post of personal attendant. +She knew a good deal about the household, more even than Dixon, admired +and respected her mistress and disliked Suzanne. + +The young woman's first remark was addressed to her, and, curtly +imperious, was of a kind that fed the dislike: + +"Go. I want to talk to Mrs. Janney." + +"That'll do, Elspeth," said Mrs. Janney quietly. "Thank you very much. +I'll finish the others myself." Then as the woman withdrew into the +bedroom beyond, "I wish you wouldn't speak to Elspeth that way, Suzanne. +It's bad taste and bad manners." + +Suzanne was in no state to consider Elspeth's feelings or her own +manners. She was so nervous that she blundered into her subject without +diplomatic preliminaries, gaining no encouragement from her mother's +face, which, at first startled, gradually hardened into stern +indignation. + +It was a hateful scene, degenerated--anyway on Suzanne's part--into a +quarrel, a bitter arraignment of her mother as unloving and ungenerous. +For Mrs. Janney refused the money, put her foot down with a stamp that +carried conviction. She was even grimmer and more determined than her +daughter had expected, the girl's anger and upbraidings ineffectual to +gain their purpose as spray to soften a rock. Her decision was ruthless; +Suzanne must pay her own debts, out of her own allowance. Yes, even if +she was written up in the papers. That was _her_ affair: if she did +things that were disgraceful she must bear the disgrace. The interview +ended by Suzanne rushing out of the room, a trail of loud, clamorous +sobs marking her passage to her own door. + +When she had gone Mrs. Janney broke down and cried a little. She had +thought the girl improved of late, less selfish, more tender. And now +she had been so cruel; the charge of a lack in love had pierced the +mother's heart. Mr. Janney, returned from his ride, found her there, +looking old, her eyes reddened, her voice husky. When he heard the +story, he took her hand and stroked it. His tact prevented him from +saying what he felt; what he did say was: + +"That bridge money'll have to be paid." + +"It will _all_ have to be paid," Mrs. Janney sighed, "and I'll have to +pay it as I always have. But I'm going to frighten her--let her think I +won't--for a few days anyway. It's all I can do and it may have some +effect." + +Her husband agreed that it might but his thoughts were not hopeful. +There always had to be a crumpled rose leaf and Suzanne was theirs. + +He accompanied his wife on her drive and was so understanding, so +unobtrusively soothing and sympathetic, that when they returned she was +once more her masterful, competent self. Noting a bank of storm clouds +rising from the east, she told Otto to bring the limousine when he came +for them at a quarter to eight. Inside the house she summoned Dixon and +said as the family would be out "the help"--it was part of her +beneficent policy to call her retinue by this name when speaking to any +of its members--could go out that night if they so willed. Dixon +admitted that they had already planned a general sortie on "the movies" +in the village. All but Hannah, the cook, who had "something like +shooting pains in her feet, and Delia, the second housemaid, who'd got +an insect in her eyes, Madam. But it wasn't the hurt of it that kept her +in, only the look which she didn't want seen." + +At seven the storm drove up, black and lowering, and the rain fell in a +torrent. It was still falling when Mr. and Mrs. Janney descended the +stairs, a little in advance of the time set, for, while dressing, Mrs. +Janney had decided that her costume needed a brightening touch, which +would be suitably imparted by her opal necklace. This, being rarely +worn, was kept with the more valuable jewels in the safe of which +Elspeth did not know the combination. Of course Mrs. Janney did, and at +the foot of the stairs she turned into a passage which led from the +foyer hall into the kitchen wing. It was a short connecting artery of +the great house, lit by two windows that gave on rear lawns, and at +present encumbered by a chair standing near the first window. Mrs. +Janney recognized the chair as one from her sitting room which had been +broken and which Isaac, the footman, had said he could repair. She gave +it a proprietor's inspecting glance, touched the wounded spot, and +encountering wet varnish, warned Mr. Janney away. + +In the wall opposite the windows the safe door rose black and +uncompromising as a prison entrance. It was large and old fashioned--put +in by the former owner of Grasslands. Mrs. Janney talked of having a +more modern one substituted but hadn't "got round to it," and anyway Mr. +Janney thought it was all right--burglaries were rare in Berkeley. The +silver had already been stored for the night, the bosses of great bowls, +flowered rims, and filagree edgings shining from darkling recesses. The +electric light across the hallway did not penetrate to the side shelves +and Mr. Janney had to assist with matches while his wife felt round +among the jewel cases, opening several in her search. Finally they +emerged, Mrs. Janney with the opals which after some straining she +clasped round her neck, while Sam closed the door. + +As they rentered the main hall Suzanne came down the stairs, tripping +daintily with small pointed feet. She was very splendid, her slenderness +accentuated by the length of satin swathed about her, from which her +shoulders emerged, girlishly fragile. She was also very much made up, of +a pink and white too dazzlingly pure. With her blushing delicacy of +tint, her angry eyes and sulkily drooping mouth, Mr. Janney thought she +looked exactly like a crumpled rose leaf. + +"Where's Miss Maitland?" she said to him, ostentatiously ignoring her +mother. + +Before he could answer Esther's voice came from the hall above: + +"Coming--coming. I hope I haven't kept you," and she appeared at the +stair-head. + +The dress she wore, green trimmed with a design of small, pink chiffon +rosebuds and leaves, was the realized dream of a great Parisian +_faiseur_. It had been Mrs. Janney's who, considering it too youthful, +had given it to her Secretary. Its vivid hue was singularly becoming, +lending a warm whiteness to the girl's pale skin, bringing out the rich +darkness of her burnished hair. Her bare neck was as smooth as curds, +not a bone rippled its gracious contours; the little rosebuds and leaves +that edged the corsage looked like a garland painted on ivory. + +It was a good dinner, but it was not as jolly as Dick Ferguson's dinners +usually were. Before it was over the rain stopped and a full moon shone +through the dining room windows. Suzanne had hoped she and Dick could +saunter off into the rose garden and have that talk about Chapman, but +he showed no desire to do so. They sat about in long chairs on the +balcony and she had to listen to Ham Lorimer's opinions on the war. + +As soon as the motor came she wanted to go--she was tired, she had a +headache. It was early, only a quarter past ten, and the night was now +superb, the sky a clear, starless blue with the great moon queening it +alone. Mr. Janney would have liked to linger--he always enjoyed an +evening with Dick--but she was petulantly perverse, and they moved to +the waiting car with Ferguson in attendance. + +Mrs. Janney settled herself in the back seat, Suzanne, lifting +shimmering skirts, prepared to follow, while Miss Maitland waited humbly +to take what room was left among their assembled knees. She was close to +Ferguson who was helping Suzanne in, and looking up at the sky murmured +low to herself: + +"What a glorious night!" + +Ferguson heard her and dropped Suzanne's arm. + +"Isn't it? Too good to waste. Does any one want to walk back to +Grasslands?" + +Suzanne, one foot on the step, stopped and turned to him. Her lips +opened to speak, and then she saw the back of his head and heard him +address Esther: + +"How about it, Miss Maitland? You're a walker, and it's only a step by +the wood path. We can be there almost as soon as the car." + +"You'll get wet," said Mrs. Janney, "the woods will be dripping." + +Mr. Janney remembered his youth and egged them on: + +"Only underfoot and they can change their shoes. Dick's right--it's too +good to waste. I'd go myself but I'm afraid of my rheumatism. Hurry up, +Suzanne, and get in. They want to start." + +Miss Maitland said she wasn't afraid of the wet and that it would not +hurt her slippers. Suzanne entered the car and sunk into her corner. As +it rolled away Mr. and Mrs. Janney looked back at the two figures in the +moonlight and waved good-byes. Suzanne sat motionless; all the way home +she said nothing. + + + + +CHAPTER IV--THE CIGAR BAND + + +Esther and Ferguson walked across the open spaces of lawn and then +entered the woods. Ferguson had set the pace as slow, but he noticed +that she quickened it, faring along beside him with a light, swift step. +He also noticed that she was quiet, as she had been at dinner; as if she +was abstracted, not like herself. + +He had seen a good deal of her lately and thought of her a good +deal--thought many things. One was that she was interesting, provocative +in her quiet reserve, not as easy to see through as most women. She was +clever, used her brains; he had formed a habit of talking to her on +matters that he never spoke of with other girls. And he admired her +looks, nothing cheap about them; "thoroughbred" was the word that always +rose to his mind as he greeted her. It seemed to him all wrong that she +should be working for a wage as the Janneys' hireling, for, though he +was "advanced" in his opinions, when it came to women there was a strain +of sentimentality in his make-up. + +On the wood path he let her go ahead, seeing her figure spattered with +white lights that ran across her shoulders and up and down her back. +They had walked in silence for some minutes when he suddenly said: + +"What's amiss?" + +She slackened her gait so that he came up beside her. + +"Amiss? With what, with whom?" + +"You. What's wrong? What's on your mind?" + +A shaft of moonlight fell through a break in the branches and struck +across her shoulder. It caught the little rosebuds that lay against her +neck and he saw them move as if lifted by a quick breath. + +"There's nothing on my mind. Why do you think there is?" + +"Because at dinner you didn't eat anything and were as quiet as if there +was an embargo on the English language." + +"Couldn't I be just stupid?" + +He turned to her, seeing her face a pale oval against the silver-moted +background: + +"No. Not if you tried your darndest." + +Dick Ferguson's tongue did not lend itself readily to compliments. He +gave forth this one with a seriousness that was almost solemn. + +She laughed, the sound suggesting embarrassment, and looked away from +him her eyes on the ground. Just in front of them the woodland roof +showed a gap, and through it the light fell across the path in a +glittering pool. As they advanced upon it she gave an exclamation, +stayed him with an outflung arm, and bent to the moss at her feet: + +"Oh, wait a minute--How exciting! I've found something." + +She raised herself, illumined by the radiance, a small object that +showed a golden glint in her hand. Then her voice came deprecating, +disappointed: + +"Oh, what a fraud! I thought it was a ring." + +On her palm lay what looked like a heavy enameled ring. Ferguson took it +up; it was of paper, a cigar band embossed in red and gold. + +"Umph," he said, dropping it back, "I don't wonder you were fooled." + +"It was right there on the moss shining in the moonlight. I thought I'd +found something wonderful." She touched it with a careful finger. "It's +new and perfectly dry. It's only been here since the storm." + +"Some man taking a short cut through the woods. Better not tell Mrs. +Janney, she doesn't like trespassers." + +She held it up, moving it about so that the thick gold tracery shone: + +"It's really very pretty. A ring like that wouldn't be at all bad. +Look!" she slipped it on her finger and held the hand out studying it +critically. It was a beautiful hand, like marble against the blackness +of the trees, the band encircling the third finger. + +Ferguson looked and then said slowly: + +"You've got it on your engagement finger." + +"Oh, so I have." Her laugh came quick as if to cover confusion and she +drew the band off, saying, as she cast it daintily from her finger-tips, +"There--away with it. I hate to be fooled," and started on at a brisk +pace. + +Ferguson bent and picked it up, then followed her. He said nothing for +quite suddenly, at the sight of the ring on her finger, he had been +invaded by a curious agitation, a gripping, upsetting, disturbing +agitation. It was so sharp, so unexpected, so compelling in its rapid +attack, that his outside consciousness seemed submerged by it and he +trod the path unaware of his surroundings. + +He had never thought of Esther Maitland being engaged, of ever marrying. +He had accepted her as some one who would always be close at hand, +always accessible, always in town or country to be found at the +Janneys'. And the ring had brought to his mind with a startling +clearness that some day she _might_ marry. Some day a man would put a +ring on that finger, put it on with vows and kisses, put it on as a sign +and symbol of his ownership. Ferguson felt as if he had been shaken from +an agreeable lethargy. He was filled with a surge of indignation, at +what he could not exactly tell. He felt so many things that he did not +know which he felt the most acutely, but a sense of grievance was mixed +with jealousy and both were dominated by an angry certainty that any man +who aspired to her would be unworthy. + +When they emerged into the open he looked at her with a new +expression--questioning, almost fierce and yet humble. Sauntering at her +side across the lawn he was so obsessed with these conflicting emotions +that he said not a word, and hardly heard hers. The Janneys were +awaiting them on the balcony steps and after an exchange of good-nights +he turned back to the wood trail and went home. In his room he threw +himself on the sofa and lay there, his hands clasped behind his head, +staring at the ceiling. It was long after midnight when he went to bed, +and before he did so he put the cigar band in the jewel box with the +crystal lid that stood on the bureau. + +The Janney party trailed into the house, Sam stopping to lock the door +as the ladies moved to the stair foot. Suzanne went up with a curt +"good-night" to her mother, and no word or look for the Secretary. +Esther did not appear to notice it and, pausing with her hand on the +balustrade, proffered a request--could she have to-morrow, Saturday, to +go to town? She was very apologetic; her day off was Thursday and she +had no right to ask for another, but a friend had unexpectedly arrived +in the city, would be there for a very short time and she was extremely +anxious to see her. Mrs. Janney granted the favor with sleepy +good-nature and Miss Maitland, very grateful, passed up the stairs, the +old people dragging slowly in her wake, dropping remarks to one another +between yawns. + +A long hall crossed the upper floor, one side of which was given over to +the Price household. Here were Suzanne's rooms, Chapman's empty +habitation, and opposite them Bbita's nurseries. The other side was +occupied on the front by Mrs. Janney and the Secretary with a line of +guest chambers across the passage. In a small room between his wife's +and his stepdaughter's Mr. Janney had ensconced himself. He liked the +compact space, also his own little balcony where he had his steamer +chair and could read and sun himself. As the place was much narrower +than the apartments on either side a short branch of hall connected it +with the main corridor. His door, at the end of this hall, commanded the +head of the stairway. + +Mr. Janney had a restless night; he knew he would have for he had taken +champagne and coffee and the combination was always disturbing. When he +heard the clocks strike twelve he resigned himself to a _nuit blanche_ +and lay wide awake listening to the queer sounds that a house gives out +in the silent hours. They were of all kinds, gurglings and creaks coming +out of the walls, a series of small imperative taps which seemed to +emerge from his chest of drawers, thrummings and thrillings as if winged +things were shut in the closets. + +Half-past twelve and one struck and he thought he was going off when he +heard a new sound that made him listen--the creaking of a door. He +craned up his old tousled head and gave ear, his eyes absently fixed on +the strips and spots of moonlight that lay white on the carpet. It was +very still, not a whisper, and then suddenly the dogs began to bark, a +trail of yaps and yelps that advanced across the lawn. Close to the +house they subsided, settling down into growls and conversational +snufflings, and he sank back on his pillow. But he was full of nerves, +and the idea suddenly occurred to him that Bbita might be sick, it +might have been the nursery door that had opened--Annie going to fetch +Mrs. Janney. He'd take a look to be sure--if anything was wrong there +would be a light. + +He climbed out of bed and stole into the hall. No light but the moon, +throwing silvery slants across the passage and the stair-head, and +relieved, he tiptoed back. It was while he was noiselessly closing his +door that he heard something which made him stop, still as a statue, his +faculties on the qui vive, his eye glued to the crack--a footstep was +ascending the stairs. It was as soft as the fall of snow, so light, so +stealthy that no one, unless attentive as he was, would have caught it. +Yet it was there, now and then a muffled creak of the boards emphasizing +its advance. The corridor at the head of the stairs was as bright as day +and with his eye to the crack he waited, his heart beating high and +hard. + +Rising into the white wash of moonlight came Suzanne, moving with +careful softness, her eyes sending piercing glances up and down the +hall. Her expression was singular, slightly smiling, with something sly +in its sharpened cautiousness. As she rose into full view he saw that +she held her wrapper bunched against her waist with one hand and in the +other carried Bbita's torch. He was so relieved that he made no move or +sound, but, as she disappeared in the direction of her room, softly +closed his door and went back to bed. + +She had evidently left something downstairs, a book probably--he could +not see what she had in the folds of the wrapper--and had gone to get +it. If she was wakeful it was a good sign, indicated the condition of +distressful unease her mother had hoped to create. Such alarm might lead +to a salutory reform, a change, if not of heart, of behavior. Comforted +by the thought, he turned on his pillow and at last slept. + + + + +CHAPTER V--ROBBERY IN HIGH PLACES + + +The next morning Mr. Janney had to read the papers to himself for Miss +Maitland went to town on the 8:45. He sat on the balcony and missed her, +for the Chicago murder had developed several new features and he had no +one to talk them over with. Suzanne, who never came down to breakfast, +appeared at twelve and said she was going to the Fairfax's to lunch with +bridge afterward. Though she was not yet aware of Mrs. Janney's +intention to once more come to her aid, her gloom and ill-humor had +disappeared. She looked bright, almost buoyant, her eyes showing a +lively gleam, her lips parting in ready smiles. She was going to the +beach before lunch, and left with a large knitting bag slung from her +arm, and a parasol tilted over her shoulder. It was not until she was +half way across the lawn that old Sam remembered her nocturnal +appearance which he had intended asking her about. + +She was hardly out of sight when Bbita and Annie came into view on the +drive, returning from the morning bath. Bbita had a trouble and raced +up the steps to tell him--she had lost her torch. She was quite +disconsolate over it; Annie had said they'd surely find it, but it +wasn't anywhere, and she _knew_ she'd left it on the nursery table when +she went to bed. In the light of subsequent events Mr. Janney thought +his answer to the child had been dictated by Providence. Why he didn't +say, "Your mother knows; she had it last night," he never could explain; +nor what prompted the words, "Ask your mother; she's probably seen it +somewhere." Bbita accepted the suggestion with some hope and then, +hearing that her mother would not be home until the afternoon, fell into +momentary dejection. + +Mrs. Janney was to take her accustomed drive at four and her husband +said he would go with her. Some time before the hour he appeared on the +balcony, cool and calm, his poise restored after the trials of the +previous day and the disturbed night, and sat down to wait. Inside the +house his wife was busy. Several important papers had come on the +morning mail and these, with the opals, she decided to put in the safe +before starting. After they were stored in their shelves and the opals +back in their box she could not resist a look at her emeralds, of all +her material possessions the dearest. She lifted the purple velvet case +and opened it--the emeralds were not there. + +She stood motionless, experiencing an inner sense of upheaval, her heart +leaping and then sinking down, her body shaken by a tremor such as the +earth feels when rocked by a seismic throe. She tried to hold herself +steady and opened the other cases--the two pearl necklaces, the sapphire +rivire, the diamond and ruby tiara. As each revealed its emptiness her +hands began to tremble until, when she reached the white sude box of +the black pearl pendant, they shook so she could hardly find the clasp. +Everything was gone--a clean sweep had been made of the Janney jewels. + +Moving with a firm step, she went to the balcony. In the doorway she +came to a halt and said quietly to her husband: + +"Sam, my jewels have been stolen." + +Mr. Janney squared round, stared at her, and ejaculated in feeble +denial: + +"Oh _no_!" + +"Oh yes," she answered with the same note of grim control, "Come and +see." + +When he saw, his old veined hands shaking as they dropped the rifled +cases, he turned and blankly faced his wife who was watching him with a +level scrutiny. + +"Mary!" was all he could falter. "Mary, my _dear_!" + +"Last night," she nodded, "when we were out. The place was almost empty. +I'll call the servants." + +She went to the foot of the stairs and called Elspeth, old Sam, +bewildered by this sudden catastrophe, emerging from the safe, as pale +and shaken as if he was the burglar. + +"Last night, of course last night," he murmured, trying to think. "They +were here at eight. I saw them, we saw them, anybody could have seen +them." + +Elspeth appeared on the stairs and came running down, Mrs. Janney's +orders delivered like pistol shots upon her advance: + +"I've been robbed. The safe's been opened and all the jewels are gone. +Go and call the servants, every one of them. Tell them to come here at +once." + +Elspeth knew enough to make no reply, and, with a terrified face, +scudded past her mistress to the kitchen. Mrs. Janney, her attention +attracted by sounds of distracted amazement from her husband, mobilized +him: + +"Go and get Miss Maitland. We'll have to send for detectives. She can do +it--she doesn't lose her head." + +Mr. Janney, too stunned to be anything but meekly obedient, trotted off +down the hall to Miss Maitland's study, then stopped and came back: + +"She's in town; she hasn't got back yet." + +"Tch!" Mrs. Janney gave a sound of exasperation. "I'd forgotten it. How +maddening! You'll have to do it. Go in there to the 'phone"--she +indicated the telephone closet at the end of the hall. "Call up the +Kissam Agency--that's the best. We had them when the bell boy at +Atlantic City stole my sables. Get Kissam himself and tell him what's +happened and to take hold at once--to come now, not to waste a minute. +And don't you either--hurry!--" + +Mr. Janney hasted away and shut himself in the telephone closet, as the +servants, marshaled by Dixon and Elspeth, entered in a scared group. +They had been taking tea in their own dining room when Elspeth burst in +with the direful news. Eight of them were old employees--had been years +in Mrs. Janney's service. Hannah, the cook, had been with her nearly as +long as Dixon; Isaac, the footman, was her nephew. Dixon's large, +heavy-jowled face was stamped with aghast concern; the kitchen maid was +in tears. + +Mrs. Janney addressed them like what she was--a general in command of +her forces: + +"My jewels have been stolen. Some time last night the safe was opened +and they were taken. It is my order that every one of you stay in the +house, not holding communication with any one outside, until the police +have been here and made a thorough investigation. Your rooms and your +trunks will have to be searched and I expect you to submit to it +willingly with no grumbling." + +Dixon answered her: + +"It's what we'd expect, Madam. Me and Isaac both know the combination +and we'd want to have our own characters cleared as much as we'd want +you to get back your valuables." + +Hannah spoke: + +"We'd welcome it, Mrs. Janney. There's none of us wants any suspicion +restin' on 'em." + +Delia, the housemaid with the inflamed eye, took it up. She was a +newcomer in the household, and in her fright her brogue acquired an +unaccustomed richness: + +"God knows I was in my room at nine, and not a move out of me till sivin +the nixt mornin' and that's to-day." + +Mr. Janney, issuing from the telephone closet, here interrupted them. He +addressed his wife: + +"It's all right. I got Kissam himself. He'll be here on the 5:30." + +She answered with a nod and was turning for further instructions to +Dixon when Suzanne entered from the balcony. Up to that moment Mr. +Janney had forgotten all about his nocturnal vision; now it came back +upon him with a shattering impact. + +He felt his knees turn to water and his heart sink down to inner, +unplumbed depths in his anatomy. He grasped at the back of a chair and +for once his manners deserted him, for he dropped into it though his +wife was standing. + +"What's all this?" said Suzanne, coming to a halt, her glance shifting +from her mother to the group of solemn servants. She looked very pretty, +her face flushed, the blue tint of her linen dress harmonizing +graciously with her pink cheeks and corn-colored hair. + +Mrs. Janney explained. As she did so old Sam, his face as gray as his +beard, watched his stepdaughter with a furtive eye. Suzanne appeared +amazed, quite horror-stricken. She too sank into a chair, and listened, +open-mouthed, her feet thrust out before her, the high heels planted on +the rug. + +"Why, what an awful thing!" was her final comment. Then as if seized by +a sudden thought she turned on Dixon. + +"Were all the windows and doors locked last night?" + +"All on the lower floor, Mrs. Price. Me and Isaac went round them before +we started for the village, and there's not a night--" + +Suzanne cut him off brusquely: + +"Then how could any one get in to do it?" + +There was a curious, surging movement among the servants, a mutter of +protest. Mr. Janney intervened: + +"You'd better let matters alone, Suzanne. Detectives are coming and +they'll inquire into all that sort of thing." + +"I suppose I can ask a question if I like," she said pertly, then +suddenly; looking about the hall, "Where's Miss Maitland?" + +"In town," said her mother. + +"Oh--she went in, did she? I thought her day off was Thursday." + +"She asked for to-day--what _does_ it matter?" Mrs. Janney was irritated +by these irrelevancies and turned to the servants: "Now I've instructed +you and for your own sakes obey what I've said. Not a man or woman +leaves the house till after the police have made their search. That +applies to the garage men and the gardeners. Dixon, you can tell them--" +she stopped, the crunch of motor wheels on the gravel had caught her +ear. "There's some one coming. I'm not at home, Dixon." + +The servants huddled out to their own domain and Dixon, with a +resumption of his best hall-door manner, went to ward off the visitor. +But it was only Miss Maitland returning from town. She had several small +packages in her hands and looked pale and tired. + +The news that greeted her--Mrs. Janney was her informant--left her as +blankly amazed as it had the others. She was shocked, asked questions, +could hardly believe it. Old Sam found the opportunity a good one to +study Suzanne, who appeared extremely interested in the Secretary's +remarks. Once, when Miss Maitland spoke of keeping some of her books and +the house-money in the safe, he saw his stepdaughter's eyelids flutter +and droop over the bird-bright fixity of her glance. + +It was at this stage that Bbita ran into the hall and made a joyous +rush for her mother: + +"Oh, Mummy, I've _waited_ and _waited_ for you,"--she flung herself +against Suzanne's side in soft collision. "I've lost my torch and I've +asked everybody and nobody's seen it. Do _you_ know where it is?" + +Suzanne arched her eyebrows in playful surprise, then putting a finger +under the rounded chin, lifted her daughter's face and kissed her, +softly, sweetly, tenderly. + +"Darling, I'm so sorry, but I haven't seen it anywhere. If you can't +find it I'll buy you another." + + + + +CHAPTER VI--POOR MR. JANNEY! + + +The peace and aristocratic calm of the Janney household was disrupted. +Into its dignified quietude burnt an irruption of alien activity and the +great white light of publicity. Kissam with his minions came that +evening and reporters followed like bloodhounds on the scent. Scenes +were enacted similar to those Mr. Janney had read in novels and +witnessed at the theater, but which, in his most fevered imaginings, he +had never thought could transpire in his own home. It was unreal, like a +nightmare, a phantasmagoria of interviews with terrified servants, +trampings up and down stairs, strange men all over the place, reporters +on the steps, the telephone bell and the front door bell ringing +ceaselessly. Everybody was in a state of tense excitement except Mr. +Janney whose condition was that of still, frozen misery. There were +moments when he was almost sorry he'd married again. + +After introductory parleys with the heads of the house the searchlight +of inquiry was turned on the servants. Their movements on the fateful +night were subject of special attention. When Kissam elicited the fact +that they had not returned from the village till nearly midnight he fell +on it with ominous avidity. Dixon, however, had a satisfactory +explanation, which he offered with a martyred air of forbearance. Mr. +Price's man, Willitts, had that morning come up from town to Cedar +Brook, the next station along the line. In the afternoon he had biked +over to see them and, hearing of their plan to visit the movies, had +arranged to meet them there. This he did, afterward taking them to the +Mermaid Ice Cream Parlors where he had treated them to supper. They had +left there about half past eleven, Willitts going back to Cedar Brook +and the rest of them walking home to Grasslands. + +From the women left in the house little was to be gathered. This was +unfortunate as the natural supposition was that the burglary had been +committed during the hours when they were alone there. Both, feeling +ill, had retired early, Delia at about half-past eight, going +immediately to bed and quickly falling asleep. Hannah was later; about +nine, she thought. It was very quiet, not a sound, except that after she +got to her room she heard the dogs barking. They made a great row at +first, running down across the lawn, then they quieted, "easing off with +sort of whines and yaps, like it was somebody they knew." She had not +bothered to look out of the window because she thought it was one of the +work people from the neighborhood, making a short cut through the +grounds. + +In the matter of the safe all was incomprehensible and mysterious. Five +people in the house knew the combination--Mr. and Mrs. Janney, Dixon and +Isaac and Miss Maitland. Mrs. Janney was as certain of the honesty of +her servants and her Secretary as she was of her own. She rather +resented the detectives' close questioning of the latter. But Miss +Maitland showed no hesitation or annoyance, replying clearly and +promptly to everything they asked. She kept the house money and some of +her account books in the safe and on the second of the month--five days +before the robbery--had taken out such money as she had there to pay the +working people who did not receive checks. She managed the financial +side of the establishment, she explained, paying the wages and bills and +drawing the checks for Mrs. Janney's signature. + +Questioned about her movements that afternoon, her answers showed the +same intelligent frankness. She had spent the two hours after lunch +altering the dress she was to wear that evening. As it was very warm in +her room she had taken part of it to her study on the ground floor. When +she had finished her work--about four--she had gone for a walk returning +just before the storm. After that she had retired to her room and stayed +there until she came down to go to Mr. Ferguson's dinner. + +The safe and its surroundings were subjected to a minute inspection +which revealed nothing. Neither window had been tampered with, the locks +were intact, the sills unscratched, the floor showed no foot-mark. There +were no traces of finger prints either upon the door or the +metal-clamped boxes in which the jewel cases were kept. The mended chair +was just as Mrs. Janney remembered it, set between the safe and the +window, in the way of any one passing along the hall. + +It was on Sunday afternoon--twenty-four hours after the discovery--that +Dick Ferguson appeared with one of his gardeners, who had a story to +tell. On Friday night the man had been to a card party in the garage of +a neighboring estate and had come home late "across lots." His final +short cut had been through Grasslands, where he had passed round by the +back of the house. He thought the time would be on toward one-thirty. +Skirting the kitchen wing he had seen a light in a ground floor window, +a window which he was able to indicate. He described the light as not +very strong and white, not yellow like a lamp or candle. As he looked at +it he noticed that it diminished in brightness as if it was withdrawn, +moved away down a hall or into a room. He could see no figure, simply +the lit oblong of the window, with the pattern of a lace curtain over +it, and anyway he hadn't noticed much, supposing it to be one of the +servants coming home late like himself. + +This settled the hour of the robbery. It had not been committed when the +place was almost deserted, but when all its occupants were housed and +sleeping. The window, pointed out by the man, was directly opposite the +safe door, the light as he described it could only have been made by an +electric lantern or torch, its gradual diminishment caused by its +removal into the recess of the safe. + +If before this Mr. Janney's mental state was painful, it now became +agonized. He was afraid to be with the detectives for fear of what he +would hear, and he was afraid to leave them alone, for fear of what he +might miss. When Mrs. Janney conferred with Kissam he sat by her side, +swallowing on a dry throat, and trying to control the inner trembling +that attacked him every time the man opened his lips. He gave way to +secret, futile cursings of the jewels, distracted prayers that they +never might be found. For if they were, the theft might be traced to its +author--and _then_ what? It would be the end of his wife, her proud head +would be lowered forever, her strong heart broken. Sleep entirely +forsook him and the people who came to call treated him with a soothing +gentleness as if they thought he was dying. + +His misery reached a climax when something he remembered, and every one +else had forgotten, came to light. It was one day in the library when +Kissam asked Mrs. Janney if there had ever been any one else in the +house--a discharged employee or relation--who had known the combination. +Mrs. Janney said no and then recollected that Chapman Price did, he had +kept his tobacco in the safe as the damp spoiled it. Kissam showed no +interest--he knew Chapman Price was her son-in-law and was no longer an +inmate--and then suddenly asked what had been done with the written +combination. + +At that question Mr. Janney felt like a shipwrecked mariner deprived of +the spar to which he has been clinging. He saw his wife's face charged +with aroused interest--she'd forgotten it, it was in Mr. Janney's desk, +had always been kept there. They went to the desk and found it under a +sheaf of papers in a drawer that was unlocked. Kissam looked at it, felt +and studied the papers, then put it back in a silence that made Mr. +Janney feel sick. + +After that he was prepared for anything to happen, but nothing did. He +got some comfort from the papers, which assumed the robbery to have been +an "outside job"; no one in the house fitting the character of a +suspect. It was the work of experts, who had entered by the second +story, and were of that class of burglar known as "tumblers" Mr. Janney, +who had never heard of a "tumbler" save as a vessel from which to drink, +now learned that it was a crackman, who from a sensitive touch and long +training, could manipulate the locks and work out the combination. He +found himself thanking heaven that such men existed. + +When a week passed and nothing of moment came to the surface, the Janney +jewel robbery slipped back to the inside page, and, save in the environs +of Berkeley, ceased to occupy the public mind. Mr. Janney could once +more walk in his own grounds without fear of reporters leaping on him +from the shrubberies or emerging from behind statues and garden benches. +His tense state relaxed, he began to breathe freely, and, in this +restoration to the normal, he was able to think of what he ought to do. +Somehow, some day, he would have to face Suzanne with his knowledge and +get the jewels back. It would be a day of fearful reckoning; it was so +appalling to contemplate that he shrank from it even in thought. He said +he wasn't strong enough yet, would work up to it, get some more sleep +and his nerves in better shape. And she might--there was always the +hope--she might get frightened and return them herself. + +So he rested in a sort of breathing spell between the first, grinding +agony and the formidably looming future. But it was not to last--events +were shaping to an end that he had never suspected and that came upon +him like a bolt from the blue. + +It happened one afternoon eight days after the robbery. Mrs. Janney and +Suzanne had gone for a drive and he was alone in the library, listlessly +going over the morning papers. His zest in the news had left him--the +Chicago murder offered no interest, the stabbed policeman in desperate +case from blood poisoning, his assailant still at large, could not +conjure away his dark anxieties. With his glasses dangling from his +finger, his eyes on the green sweep of the lawn, he was roused by a +knock on the door. It was Dixon announcing Mr. Kissam, who had walked up +from the village and wanted to see him. + +Kissam, with a brief phrase of greeting, closed the door and sat down. +Mr. Janney thought his manner, which was always hard and brusque, was +softened by a suggestion of confidence, something of intimacy as one who +speaks man to man. It made him nervous and his uneasiness was not +relieved in the least by the detective's words. + +"I'm glad to find you alone, Mr. Janney. I 'phoned up and heard from +Dixon that the ladies were out and that's why I came. I want to consult +you before I say anything to Mrs. Janney." + +"That's quite right," said Mr. Janney, then added with a feeble attempt +at lightness, "Are you, as the children say, getting any warmer?" + +"We're very warm. In fact I think we've almost got there. But it's +rather a ticklish situation." + +Mr. Janney did not answer; he glanced at his shoes, then at the silver +on the desk. For the moment he was too perturbed to look at Kissam's +shrewd, attentive face. + +"It's so out of the ordinary run," the man went on, "and _so much_ is +involved that I decided not to move without first telling you. The +family being so prominent--" + +"The family!" Mr. Janney spoke before he thought, his limp hands +suddenly clenching on the arms of the chair. + +The detective's eyes steadied on the gripped fingers. + +"What do you mean? Let me have it straight," said the old man huskily. + +Kissam put his hand in his hip pocket and drew out an electric torch +which he put on the desk. + +"This torch I myself found two days ago in a desk in Mrs. Price's room. +It was pushed back in a drawer which was full of letters and papers. It +fits the description of the torch that was lost by Mrs. Price's little +girl." + +Mr. Janney's head sunk forward on his breast, and Kissam knew now that +his suspicions were correct and that the old man had known all along. He +was sorry for him: + +"Mrs. Price not being your daughter, Mr. Janney, I decided to come to +you. I suspected her after the second day and I'll tell you why. I had a +private interview with that woman Elspeth, Mrs. Janney's maid, and she +told me of a quarrel she had overheard between Mrs. Janney and her +daughter. The subject of the quarrel was money, Mrs. Price asking for a +large sum to meet certain debts and losses in the stock market which +Mrs. Janney refused to give her. That supplied the motive and gave me +the lead. The loss of the torch was also significant. The child was +confident--and children are very accurate--that she had left it on the +table in her nursery when she went to bed. The proximity of the two +rooms made the theft of the torch an easy matter. What puzzled me was +how Mrs. Price had gained access to the safe, but that was cleared up +when the written combination was found in your desk here; and finally I +ran across what I should call perfectly conclusive evidence in Mrs. +Price's room. I don't refer only to the torch, but to the fact that a +wrapper that was hanging in the back of one of the closets showed a +smudge of varnish on the skirt." + +Mr. Janney leaned forward over his clasped hands, feeling wan and +shriveled. + +"If your surmise is right," he said, "where has she put them?" + +"If!" echoed the other. "I don't see any if about it. You can't suspect +either of the men servants--reliable people of established +character--nor Miss Maitland. A girl in her position--even if she +happened to be dishonest, which I don't for a moment think she +is--wouldn't tackle a job as big as that. Come, Mr. Janney, we don't +need to dodge around the stump. As soon as I'd spoken I saw you thought +Mrs. Price had done it." + +The old man nodded and said sadly: + +"I did." + +"Would you mind telling me why you did?" + +There was nothing for it but to tell, and he told, the detective +suppressing a grin of triumph. It cleared up everything, was as +conclusive as if they'd seen her commit the act. + +"As for where she put them," he said, "she may have a hiding place in +the house that we haven't discovered, or cached them outside. In matters +like this women sometimes show a remarkable cunning. I've looked up her +movements on the Saturday and it's possible she hid them somewhere in +the woods. She left the house at twelve, carrying a silk work bag, +walked past Ferguson's place and talked there with him in the garden for +about fifteen minutes, went on to the beach, sat there a while, and then +walked to the Fairfax house on the bluff, where she stayed to lunch, +coming back here about half-past four. She had ample opportunity during +that time and in the places she passed through to find a cache for +them." + +Mr. Janney raised a gray, pitiful face: + +"Mr. Kissam, if Mrs. Janney knew this it would kill her." + +Kissam gave back an understanding look: + +"That's why I came to you." + +"Then it must stop here--with me." The old man spoke with a sudden, +fierce vehemence. "It _can't_ go further. The girl's been a torment and +a trouble for years. I won't let her end by breaking her mother's heart, +bringing her gray hairs with sorrow to the grave. Good God, I'd rather +say I did it myself." + +"There's no need for that. We can let it fizzle out, die down +gradually." He gave a slight, sardonic smile. "I've happened on this +sort of thing before, Mr. Janney. The rich have their skeletons in the +closet, and I've helped to keep 'em there, shut in tight." + +"Then for heaven's sake do it in this case--help me hide this skeleton. +Keep up the search for a while so that Mrs. Janney won't suspect +anything; play your part. Mr. Kissam, if you'll aid me in keeping this +dark there's nothing I wouldn't do to repay you." + +Kissam disclaimed all desire for reward. His professional pride was +justified; he had made good to his own satisfaction. And, as he had +said, the case presented no startling novelty to his seasoned +experience. Many times he had helped distracted families to suppress +ugly revelations, presented an impregnable front to the press, and seen, +with a cynical amusement, columns shrink to paragraphs and the public's +curiosity fade to the vanishing point. He promised he would aid in the +slow quenching of the Janney sensation, gradually let it flicker out, +keep his men on the job for a while longer for Mrs. Janney's benefit, +and finally let the matter decline to the status of an "unsolved +mystery." + +As to the restoration of the jewels he gave advice. Say nothing for a +time, sit quiet and give no sign. If she was as thoroughly scared as she +ought to be, she would probably return them--they would wake one fine +morning and find everything back in the safe. If, however, she tried to +realize on them it would be easy to trace them--he would be on the +watch--and then Mr. Janney could confront her with his knowledge and +have her under his thumb forever. + +Mr. Janney was extremely grateful--not at the prospect of having Suzanne +under his thumb, that was too complete a reversal of positions to be +comfortable--but at the detective's kindly comprehension and aid. With +tears in his eyes he wrung Kissam's hand and honored him by a personal +escort to the front door. + + + + +CHAPTER VII--CONCERNING DETECTIVES + + +Kissam kept his word and the interest in the Janney robbery began to +languish. Detectives still came and went, morning trains still disgorged +reporters, but it was not as it had been. The first, fine careless +rapture of the chase was over; nothing new was discovered, nothing old +developed. The house settled back to its methodical rgime, the faces of +its inmates lost their looks of harassed distress. + +Mr. Janney, though much pacified, was not yet restored to his normal +poise. His wife was now the object of his secret attention, for he knew +her to be a very sharp and observant person, and the fear that she might +"catch on" haunted him. It was therefore very upsetting when she +remarked one morning at breakfast that "those men didn't seem to be +doing much. They were just where they had been ten days ago." + +He tried to reassure her--it would be a long slow affair--didn't she +remember the James case, where a year after the theft the jewels were +found under the skin of a ham hanging in the cellar? Mrs. Janney was not +appeased, she scoffed at the ham, and said the detectives were the +stupidest body of men in the country outside Congress. She was going to +offer a reward, ten thousand dollars--and then she muttered something +about "taking a hand herself." In answer to Mr. Janney's alarmed +questions she quieted down, laughed, and said she didn't mean anything. + +She did, however, and had Mr. Janney known it wakeful nights would again +have been his portion. But she had no intention of telling him. She had +seen that he was worn out, a mere bundle of nerves, and what she +intended to do would be done without his knowledge or connivance. This +was to start a private inquiry of her own. The written combination, +loose in an unlocked drawer, had influenced her; it was possible some +one in the house had found it. She felt that she owed it to her +dependents and herself to make sure. And the best way to do this was to +have a detective on the spot--but a detective whose profession would be +unknown. Fortunately the plan was workable; there was a vacancy in the +household staff. For the past month she had been advocating the +engagement of a nursery governess for Bbita. + +Two days after her slip to Mr. Janney an opportunity came for broaching +the subject. They were at lunch when Suzanne announced that she intended +going to town the next morning. It was about Bbita--the child's eyes, +which had troubled her in the spring, were again inflamed and she had +complained of pain in them. Suzanne wanted to consult the oculist; she +hoped a prescription would be sufficient, but of course if he insisted +on seeing the child she would have to be taken in for an examination. + +Mrs. Janney thought it the right thing to do and said she would +accompany her daughter. Suzanne, who was eating her lunch, paused with +suspended fork and sidelong eye;--why was that necessary, she was +perfectly competent to attend to the matter. Mrs. Janney agreed and said +she was going on another errand--to see about the nursery governess they +had spoken of so often. It was time something was done, Bbita was +running wild, forgetting all she had learned last winter. Mrs. Janney +had heard of several women who might answer and would spend the day +looking them up and interviewing them. Suzanne returned to her food. +"Oh, very well, it might be a good thing, only please get some one young +and cheerful who didn't put on airs and want to be a member of the +family." + +One of Suzanne's fads was a fear of the Pennsylvania Tunnel. Whether it +was a pose or genuine she absolutely refused to go through it, declaring +that on her one trip she had nearly died of fright and the pressure on +her ears. Since that alarming experience she always went to the city +either by the old Long Island Ferry route, or by motor across the +Queensborough Bridge. + +It being a fine morning they decided to drive in--about an hour's +run--and at ten they started forth. They chatted amicably, for Suzanne, +since the robbery and the knowledge that her debts were paid, had been +unusually gay and good-humored. They separated at Altman's, Mrs. Janney +keeping the motor, Suzanne taking a taxi. At four they would meet at a +tea room and drive home together. + +Mrs. Janney's first point of call was a strange place in which to look +for a nursery governess. It was the office of Whitney & Whitney, her +lawyers, far downtown near Wall Street. She was at once conducted into +Mr. Whitney's sanctum, for besides being an important client she was a +personal friend. He moved forward to meet her--a large, slightly +stooped, heavily built man with a shock of thick gray hair, and eyes, +singularly clear and piercing, overshadowed by bushy brows. His son, +George, was sent for, and after greetings, jolly and intimate, they +settled down to talk over Mrs. Janney's business. + +She told them the situation and her needs--could _they_ find the sort of +person she wanted. She knew they employed detectives of all sorts and +Kissam's men had been so lacking in energy and so stupid that she wanted +no more of that kind. She had to have a woman of whose character they +were assured, and sufficiently presentable to pass muster with the +master and the servants. Mr. Whitney gave a look at his son and they +exchanged a smile. + +"Go and see if you can get her on the wire, George," he said, "and if +she's willing tell her to come down right now." Then as the young man +left the room he turned to Mrs. Janney. "I know the very person, the +best in New York, if she'll undertake it." + +"Some one who's thoroughly reliable and can fit into the place?" + +"My dear friend, she's as reliable as you are and that's saying a good +deal. As to fitting in, leave that to her. In her natural state there +are still some rough edges, but when she's playing a part they don't +show. She's smart enough to hide them." + +"Who is she--a detective?" + +"Not a real one, not a professional. She was a telephone girl and then +she made a good marriage--fellow named Babbitts, star reporter on the +_Despatch_. She's in love and happy and prosperous, but now and again +she'll do work for us. It's partly for old sakes' sake and partly +because she has the passion of the artist--can't resist if the call +comes to her. She came to our notice during the Hesketh case--did some +of the cleverest work I ever saw and got Reddy out of prison. The Reddys +are among her best friends--can't do too much for her." + +Mrs. Janney, who knew the beautiful Mrs. Reddy, was impressed. + +"Do you think she'll come?" she asked anxiously. + +He gave her a meaning look and nodded; + +"Yes. It's an unusually interesting case." + +Half an hour later Mrs. Janney met Molly Morgenthau Babbitts and laid +the situation before her. She found the much-vaunted young woman, a +pretty, slender girl, with crisply curly black hair, honest brown eyes, +and a pleasantly simple manner. Mrs. Janney liked what she said and +liked her. There was no doubt about her intelligence and as to rousing +any suspicions in the household--she would have deceived Mr. Janney--she +even would have deceived Dixon. As the case was outlined she could not +hide her kindling interest and, when she agreed to undertake the work, +Mrs. Janney felt that the nursery governess idea had been an +inspiration. The interview ended with practical details: Mrs. Babbitts +would make her reports to the Whitneys, who would figure as her +employers and would hand on her findings to Mrs. Janney. She would +arrive by the twelve-thirty train on the following day and be known at +Grasslands as Miss Rodgers. As they were separating she asked if there +was a branch telephone on the upper floor and, being told that there was +in an alcove off the main hall, requested that her room might be near it +as the telephone played an important part in her work. + +Suzanne's course had a curious resemblance to her mother's, though her +plan of procedure was different. + +From the day after the robbery she had developed an interest in the +telephone "Red Book." She had taken it to her room and turning to the +D's studied the list of detective agencies. After much comparison and +cogitation she had copied down the name of one Horace Larkin, who +appeared to be in business by himself and whose office was in a central +and accessible part of the city. + +After she had parted from her mother she went to a department store, +shut herself in a telephone booth, and called up Mr. Larkin. A masculine +voice, that of Larkin himself, had answered, and explaining her desire +to see him on important business, he had made an appointment to meet her +that afternoon at the Janney house on Fifth Avenue. + +This was an excellent place for Suzanne's purpose, closed for the +summer, its porch boarded up, its blue-blinded windows proclaiming its +desertion. An ancient caretaker occupied the basement with her niece, +Aggie McGee, to help and be company. Mrs. Janney never went there, but +now and then Suzanne did, generally on a quest for some needed garment, +so that her presence in the house was in no way remarkable. + +The appointment was for two and, after telling Aggie McGee that a +gentleman would call and to show him into the reception room, she +retired to the long Louis Quinze salon and threw herself on a sofa. She +was a little scared at what she had planned but she did not let her +uneasiness interfere with her intention, for, her mind once set on a +goal, she was as determined as her mother. Stretched comfortably on the +sofa, her glance traveling over the covered walls, the chandelier, a +misshapen bulging whiteness below the frescoed ceiling, she carefully +thought out what she would say to Mr. Larkin. + +A ring of the bell brought her to a sitting position, her hands pushing +in loosened hairpins. She waited listening, heard the opening and +closing of doors and then Aggie McGee's head appeared between the +shrouded portires and announced, "The gentleman to see you, ma'am." + +Her first impression of him was as a tall, broad-shouldered shape, +detailless against the light of the window. Then, as she sunk into a +chair, motioning him to one opposite, a nearer view showed him as a +fine-looking man, on to forty, with a fresh-colored, rounded face, its +expression smilingly good-humored. After the unkempt and slouchy +detectives she had seen at Grasslands his appearance, natty, smart, +almost that of a man of fashion, surprised and pleased her. She had an +instinctive distaste for all ungroomed and ill-dressed people and seeing +him so like the members of her own world, she felt a rising confidence +and reassurance. Also his manners were good, respectful, businesslike. +The one thing about him that suggested the wily sleuth were his eyes, +very light colored in his ruddy face, small, shrewd and piercing. + +He came to the matter of the moment without any preamble. Yes, he knew +of the robbery and knew who she was; he supposed she had called him up +to consult him about the case. + +"Of course, Mr. Larkin," she said, "that's what I wanted. But before I +say anything it must be understood between us that this--er--sending for +you--is entirely my affair. I want to employ you myself independently of +the others." + +He nodded, showing no surprise; + +"You want to put your own detective on the case." + +"Exactly. You're to be employed by me but no one must know you are or +know what you're doing." + +He smothered a smile and said: + +"I see." + +"I don't think the men that are working over it now are very clever or +interested. They just poke about and ask the same questions over and +over. The way they're going I should say we'd never get anything back. +So I decided I'd start an inquiry of my own and in a direction no one +else had thought of." + +Mr. Larkin gave a slight movement an almost imperceptible straightening +up of his body: + +"Do you mean that you suspect some one?" + +Suzanne looked at the arm of her chair and then smoothed its linen cover +with delicate finger tips. A very slight color deepened the artificial +rose of her cheek. + +"I'm afraid I do," she murmured. + +"Afraid?" + +She nodded, closing her eyes with the movement. She had the appearance +of a person distressed but resolute. + +"I can't help suspecting some one that I don't like to suspect. And +that's why I want your assistance." + +"I don't quite understand, Mrs. Price." + +"_This_ is the explanation. If it were known that this person was guilty +it would ruin and destroy them. My idea is to be sure that they did +it--have evidence--and then tell my mother. We could keep quiet about +it, get the jewels back and not have the thief disgraced and sent to +jail." + +"Oh, I see. You want to face the party with a knowledge of their guilt, +have them restore the jewels, and let the matter drop." + +"Precisely. And I don't want to say anything until I'm sure, can come +out with everything all clear and proved. That's _where_ I expect you to +help, put things together, find out, work up the case." + +"Who is the person?" + +Her color burned to a deep flush; she leaned toward him, urgent, almost +pleading: + +"Mr. Larkin, I hardly like to say it even to you, but I must. It's my +mother's secretary, Miss Maitland." + +He looked stolidly unmoved: + +"She lives in the house?" + +"Yes, for over a year now. My mother thinks everything of her, wouldn't +believe it unless it was proved past a doubt." + +"What are your reasons for suspecting her?" + +Suzanne was silent for a moment moving her glance from him to the +window. Mr. Larkin had a good chance to look at her and took it. He +noticed the feverish color, the line between the brows, the tightened +muscles under the thin cheeks. He made a mental note of the fact that +she was agitated. + +"Well that night, the night of July the seventh," she said in a low +voice, "I was wakeful. I often am, I've always been a nervous, restless +sort of person. About half past one I thought I heard a noise--some one +on the stairs--and I got up and looked out of my door. I can see the +head of the stairs from there, and as it was very bright moonlight any +one coming up would be perfectly plain--I couldn't make a mistake--what +I saw was Miss Maitland. She was going very carefully, tiptoeing along +as if she was trying to make no noise. At the top she turned and went +down the passage to her own room which is just beyond my mother's." + +She paused and shot a tentative look at him. He met it, teetered his +head in quiet comprehension and murmured: + +"She didn't see you?" + +"Oh no, she was not looking that way. And I didn't say anything or think +anything then--thought she'd gone downstairs for something she'd +forgotten. The next day it had passed out of my mind; it wasn't until I +heard that the jewels were gone that it came back and then I was too +shocked to say a word. It all came upon me in a minute--I remembered how +I'd seen her and remembered that she knew the combination of the safe." + +"Oh," said Mr. Larkin, "she knew that, did she?" + +"Yes, she keeps her account books and money in there, things she uses in +her work. You see she's been thoroughly trusted--never looked upon as +anything but perfectly honest and reliable." + +"Then she's filled her position to Mrs. Janney's satisfaction?" + +"Entirely. Of course we really don't know very much about her. She was +highly recommended when she came, but people in her position if they do +their work well--one doesn't bother much about them." + +"Have you noticed anything in her conduct or manner of life lately that +could--er--have any connection with or throw any light on such an +action?" + +Suzanne pondered for a moment then said: + +"No--she's always been about the same. She's gone into the city more +this summer than she did last year, on her holidays, I mean. And--oh +yes, this may be important--that night, when we came home from dinner, +she asked my mother if she could have the following day--Saturday--in +town. Mrs. Janney said she might and she went in before any of the +family were up." + +"Um," murmured Mr. Larkin and then fell into a silence in which he +appeared to be digesting this last item. When he spoke again it was to +propound a question that ruffled Suzanne's composure and caused her blue +eyes to give out a sudden spark: + +"Do you happen to know if she has any admirer--lover or fianc or +anything of that sort?" + +"I know nothing whatever about it, but I should say _not_. Certainly I +never heard of such a person. I never saw any man in the least attracted +by her and I should imagine she was a girl who had no charm for the +other sex." + +Mr. Larkin stirred in a slow, large way and said: + +"Such a robbery is a pretty big thing for a girl like that to attempt. +She must know--any one would--that jewels like Mrs. Janney's are hard to +dispose of without detection." + +Suzanne shrugged, her tone showing an edge of irritation: + +"That may be the case, I suppose it is. But couldn't she have been +employed by some one--aren't there gangs who put people on the spot to +rob for them?" + +"Certainly there are. And that would be the most plausible explanation. +Not necessarily a gang, however, an individual might be behind her. At +this stage, knowing what I do, that would be my idea. But, of course, I +can say nothing until I'm better informed. What I'll do now will be to +look up her record and then I think I'll take a run down to Berkeley and +see if I can pick up anything there." + +Suzanne looked uneasy: + +"But you'll be careful, and not let any one guess what you're doing or +that you have any business with me?" + +He smiled openly at that: + +"Mrs. Price, you can trust me. This is not my first case." + +After that there was talk of financial arrangements and future plans. +Mr. Larkin thought he would come out to Berkeley in a day or two and +take a lodging in the village. When he had anything of moment to impart +he would drop a note to Mrs. Price and she could designate a rendezvous. +They parted amicably, Suzanne feeling that she had found the right man +and Mr. Larkin secretly elated, for this was the first case of real +magnitude that had come his way. + +At the appointed time Suzanne met Mrs. Janney at the tea room and on the +way home they exchanged their news. The nursery governess had been +found, approved and engaged, and the oculist had said to go on with the +lotion and if Bbita's eyes did not improve to bring her in to see him. +Both ladies agreed that their labors had exhausted them, but each looked +unusually vivacious and mettlesome. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII--MOLLY'S STORY + + +I've been asked to tell the part of this story in which I figure. I've +done that kind of work before, so I'm not as shy as I was that first +time, and since then I've studied some, and come up against fine people, +and I'm older--twenty-seven on my last birthday. But as I said then, so +I'll say now--don't expect any stylish writing from me. At the +switchboard there's still ginger in me, but with the pen I'm one of the +"also rans." + +Fortunately for me, I was always a good one to throw a bluff and, having +made a few excursions into the halls of the rich and great, I felt I +could be safely featured as a nursery governess. She belongs in the +layer between the top and bottom and doesn't mix with either. I wouldn't +have to play down to the kitchen standards or up to the parlor ones, +just move along, sort of lonesome, in the neutral ground between. As for +teaching the child, I knew I could do that as well as the girls who are +marking time until they marry, or the decayed ladies who employ their +declining years and intellects that way. + +It didn't seem to me hard to size up the family. Mrs. Janney was the +head of it, the middle and both ends--a real queen who didn't need a +crown or a throne to make people bow the knee. Mr. Janney was a good, +kind old gentleman who was too law-abiding to get rich any way but the +way he did. Mrs. Price wasn't up to their measure--an only child, born +with a silver lining. She was one of those slimpsy, thin women that a +man would be afraid to hug for fear she'd crack in his arms or snap in +the middle. She was very cordial and pleasant to me and I will say she +was fond of her little girl. + +When I came to the servants I couldn't see but what every one of them +registered honesty. If it had been printed on their foreheads with a +rubber stamp it couldn't have been plainer. There were only two new ones +in the outfit--girls, one of them my chambermaid--and no one, not even a +sleuth desperate for glory, could have considered them. Outside there +were gardeners and chauffeurs--in all there were twenty-one people +employed--but it was the same with them. They were a decent, well-paid +lot, the garage men and head gardener living on the place, the laborers +lodged in the village. + +The one person my eye lingered on was Miss Maitland the Secretary. Not +that there was anything suspicious about her, but that she wasn't as +simple and easy to see into as the others. She was a handsome girl, tall +and well made, sticking close to her job and not having much to do with +any one. Her study was just under the day nursery where we had lessons +and had its own door on to the piazza. When she wasn't at work, she'd +either sit there reading or go off walking by herself and there was +something solitary and serious about her that interested me. The nursery +window was a good look-out, commanding the lawns and garden and with the +tennis court to one side. After lessons I'd let the blinds down and coil +up there on a cushion, and I saw her several times coming in and going +out, always alone, and always looking thoughtful and depressed. + +To get any information about her I had to be very careful for Mrs. +Janney thought the world of her, but I managed to worm out some facts, +though nothing of any importance. She had come to Mrs. Janney from a +friend who had had her as secretary for two years. She was entirely +dependent on her work for her living, was an orphan, and had no +followers. The only thing the least degree out of line was that several +times during the spring and the early summer she had asked for more days +and afternoons off than formerly. Mrs. Janney didn't seem to think +anything of this and I didn't either. The girl--settled down in her +place and knowing it secure--was slackening up on her first speed. + +There were a lot of people coming and going in the house--oftenest, Mr. +Richard Ferguson. I'd heard of him--everybody has--millions, unmarried, +and so forth and so on. I hadn't been there thirty-six hours before I +saw that Mrs. Price had an eye for him. That's putting it in a +considerate, refined way. If I was the cat some women are, I'd say she +was camped on his trail, with her lassoo ready in her hand. Of course +she'd work it the way ladies do, very genteel, pretend to be lazy if he +wanted to play tennis and when he was off for a swim wonder if she had +the energy to walk to the beach. But she always got there; every time, +rain or shine, she'd be awake at the switch. I didn't know whether he +responded--you couldn't tell. He was the kind who was jolly and affable +to everybody; even if he was a plutocrat you had to like him. + +I had a good deal of time to myself--lessons only lasted two hours--and +I roamed round the neighborhood studying it. The second afternoon I went +into the woods, where there's a short-cut that goes past Council Oaks to +the beach. Off the path, branching to the right, I found two smaller +trails both leading to the same place--a pond, surrounded by trees, and +with a wharf, a rustic bench, and two bathing houses, where the trails +ended. In my room that evening I asked Ellen, my chambermaid, about the +pond and she told me it was called Little Fresh and that the bathing +houses and wharf had been built by the former owner of Grasslands. But +the first year of Mrs. Janney's occupation a boy from the village had +been drowned there, since when Mrs. Janney had forbidden any one to go +near or bathe in Little Fresh. She had put up trespassing signs and +locked the bath houses, and no one ever went there now, because, anyway +if you didn't go in and get drowned, folks said you might catch malaria. + +A few days after that Bbita asked me to go into the woods with her and +look for lady-slippers; the kitchen maid had found two and Bbita had to +see if there weren't any left for her. Everybody said it was too late +for them, but that didn't faze Bbita who had the kitchen maid's word +for it and was set upon going. + +The woods were lovely, all green and shimmery with sunlight. We took the +trail I've spoken of, I strolling along the path, and Bbita hunting +about in the underbrush for the flowers. I was some little distance +ahead of her when I saw a figure moving behind the screen of trees +toward the right. I could only catch it in broken bits through the +leaves, hear the footsteps soft on the moss, and I didn't know whether +it was a man or a woman. Then it came into view, out of the trail that +led to Little Fresh Pond, and I saw it was a man, who stopped short at +the sight of me. + +He was good-looking, the dark kind, naturally brown, and sunburned on +top of it until he was as swarthy as an Indian, the little mustache on +his upper lip as black as if it was painted on with ink. Now I'm not one +that thinks men ought to be stunned by my beauty, but also I don't +expect to be stared at as if the sight of me was an unpleasant shock. +And that's the way that piratical guy acted, standing rooted, glaring +angry from under his eyebrows. + +I was going to pass on haughty, when Bbita's voice came from behind in +a joyful cry of "Popsy." She rushed by me, her arms spread out, and +fairly jumped at him. The ugly look went from his face as if you'd wiped +it off with a sponge, and the one that took its place made him another +man. He caught her up and held her against him, and she locked her feet +behind his waist and her hands behind his neck swinging off from him and +laughing out: + +"Oh, Popsy, I was looking for lady-slippers and I found _you_." + +"Well," he said, gazing at her like he couldn't look enough, "would you +rather have found a lady-slipper?" + +She hugged up against him, awful sweet and cunning. + +"Oh, Popsy, that's a joke. I like you better than all the lady-slippers +in the world. Where have you been?" + +"Over on the bluff, calling on some people. I'm taking a short cut +through the woods." + +"Where are you going now?" + +"To Cedar Brook. My car's out there on the road at the end of the path." + +I knew Bbita had been told not to speak of her father. I'd heard it +from Annie and Mrs. Janney had cautioned me, if she asked any questions, +to say that he had gone away and was not coming back. Children are +queer, take in more than you think, and I believe the little thing felt +something of the tragedy of it. Anyway she said nothing more on that +subject, but loosing one hand, waved it at me. + +"That's my new governess, Miss Rogers. I'm studying lessons with her." + +He looked at me, and having no free hand, just nodded. Though his +expression wasn't as unfriendly as it had been, it didn't suggest any +desire to know me better. He turned back to Bbita. + +"Dearie, you'll have to let go for I must jog along. I've a date to play +tennis at Cedar Brook and I'm late now." + +He kissed her and she loosened her hold sliding through his arms to the +ground. Then with a few last words of good-by he swung off down the +path. Bbita looked after him till the trees hid him, gave a sigh, and +without a word pushed her little hand into mine and walked along beside +me. She seemed sobered for a while, then picked up heart, began to look +about her, and was soon back at her hunt for the flowers. + +I was nearing the second path to Little Fresh, when again I saw a figure +coming behind the trees. This time it showed in a moving pattern of +lilac and the sight made me brisk up for I'd seen Miss Maitland that +morning in a lilac linen dress. I quickened my step until I came to a +turning from which I could look up the branch trail, and sure enough, +there she was, walking very lightly and spying out ahead. At the sight +of me she too stopped and looked annoyed. But women are a good deal +quicker than men--in a minute the look was gone and she was all smiles +of welcome. + +"Oh, Miss Rogers, and Bbita too! How nice to meet you. Are you going to +the beach?" + +Bbita explained our quest and said she was going to give it up--there +wasn't a single lady-slipper left. + +Miss Maitland's smile was kind and consoling: + +"I could have told you that. They're gone for this year." + +"Have _you_ been looking for them?" Bbita asked. + +No, Miss Maitland had been to the beach for a bath, and as the closed +season for lady-slippers had begun, we turned back, Bbita and the +Secretary in front, I meekly following. In answer to the child's +questions Miss Maitland said she had taken a long swim, out beyond the +raft. + +Suddenly Bbita popped out with: + +"Did you see my Daddy?" + +There was a slight pause before she answered; when she did her voice was +full of surprise: + +"Mr. Price! Was he on the beach?" + +"No, in the woods. We met him. He was taking a short cut." + +Miss Maitland said she hadn't seen him, that he must have been some +distance in front of her, and changed the subject. + +While they were talking I was thinking and absently looking at her back. +They'd both come out of the branch trails that led to Little Fresh; they +had taken different paths and not come at the same time; they had each +got a jar when they saw me. As I thought, my eyes went wandering over +her back and finally stopped at the nape of her neck. The hair was drawn +up from it and hidden under her hat. I could see the roots and the +little curly locks that drooped down against the white skin. And +suddenly I noticed something--they were perfectly dry, not a damp spot, +not a wet hair. The best bathing cap in the world couldn't keep the +water out like that. She had not been bathing at all, she had been with +Chapman Price at Little Fresh Pond. And they wanted no one to know; were +sufficiently anxious to lie about it. + +The next day in a conference with Mrs. Janney, I asked her if Mr. Price +had ever shown any interest in Miss Maitland. She was amazed, as shocked +as if I'd asked if Mr. Janney had ever been in love with the cook. +Chapman Price had taken no more notice of Miss Maitland than common +politeness demanded, in fact, she thought that of late he had rather +shunned her. She was curious to know why I asked such a question, and +when I said I had to ask any and every sort of question or she'd be +paying a detective's salary to a nursery governess, she saw the sense of +it and quieted down. + +That was more than I did. The way things were opening up, I was getting +that small, inner thrill, that feeling like your nerves are tingling +that comes to me when the darkness begins to break. I didn't see much, +just the first, faint glimmer, but it was the right kind. + +Two days later a thing happened that changed the glimmer to a wide +bright ray. It was this way: + +In the afternoon the family, unless they had a party of their own, were +always out. The only person who stayed around was Miss Maitland, +sometimes working over her books, sometimes sitting about sewing or +reading. That day--about four--I'd seen her as I passed the study window +writing at her desk. I'd gone on into the big central hall where I +wasn't supposed to belong, but feeling safe with everybody scattered, I +thought I'd make myself comfortable and take a look at the morning +papers. I'd just cuddled down in the corner of the sofa with my favorite +daily when I heard the telephone ring. + +Now the bell of the telephone is to me like the trumpet to the old war +horse. And hearing it that way, tingling in the quiet of the big, +deserted house, I got a flash that any one wanting to talk to Miss +Maitland and knowing the habits of the family would choose that hour. +There was a 'phone in the lower story--in a closet at the end of the +hall--and the extension one was upstairs in a sort of curtained recess +off the main corridor just outside my door. I rose off the sofa as if +lifted by a charge of dynamite and slid for the stairs. As I sprinted up +I heard the door of Miss Maitland's study open. + +The upper hall was deserted and I dashed noiseless into that alcove +place, one hand lifting off the receiver as soft as a feather, the other +pressed against my mouth to smother the sound of my breathing. On the +floor below Esther Maitland had just connected; I got her first +sentence, quiet and clear as if she was in the room with me: + +"Yes. This is Grasslands." + +A man's voice answered: + +"That you, Esther?" + +I could tell she recognized it, for instantly hers changed, showed fear +and a sort of pleading: + +"Oh, why do you call me up here? I told you not to." + +"My dear girl, it's all right--I know they're all out at this hour." + +"The servants--I'm afraid of them--and there's a new nursery governess +come." + +"I know. I met her in the woods that day. Did you?" + +"Of course I did. How could I help it? I said I'd been bathing. We +mustn't go there again--it's much better to write." + +The man gave a laugh that was good-humored and easy: + +"Don't take it so hard. There's not the slightest need to be worried. I +called you up to say everything was O. K." + +Her answer came with a deep, sighing breath: + +"It may be now--but how can we tell? The first excitement's dying down +but that doesn't mean they're not doing anything. Don't think for a +moment, because it's worked right so far, that we're out of the woods." + +"I'm wise to all that, I know them better than you do. And the fellow +that knows has got it all over the fellow that doesn't. Watchful +waiting--that's our motto." + +"Very well, then _let_ it be watchful. And don't call me up unless it's +urgent. I can see you in town when I go in. I won't talk any more. +Good-by." + +I heard the stillness of a dead wire and then before I let myself think, +flew into my room, found a pad and pencil and wrote it down word for +word. + + + + +CHAPTER IX--GOOD HUNTING IN BERKELEY + + +Two days after his interview with Suzanne, Mr. Larkin came to Berkeley +and took a room at the Berkeley Arms. He registered as Henry Childs, and +described himself to the clerk as a plumber, who, having had a +prosperous year, was looking for a bit of land upon which to build a +bungalow. + +Berkeley was much too exclusive to permit a hotel within its exclusive +limits and the Berkeley Arms was allowed to exist in a small, subdued +way as a convenience. It was an unassuming, gray-shingled building, +withdrawn behind a lilac hedge, and too near the station to mar the +smart and shining elegance of the main street. In it dwelt the +shop-keepers who plied a temporary summer trade in the village, and the +chauffeurs of the less wealthy cottagers. Here the detective heard much +talk of the Janney robbery, and, after he had extended his field of +observation to the post-office lobby and Bennett's drug store, Berkeley +had no secrets from him. + +The public mind was still occupied with all that pertained to +Grasslands. He heard of the separation of the Prices, the scene _he_ had +made on leaving, and that _she_ hadn't treated him right. Berkeley was +on Chapman's side, said she wanted to get rid of him to marry Ferguson. +It was hoped that Ferguson--highly esteemed--wasn't going to fall for +it; but you couldn't tell, the best men made mistakes. Gossips, who +professed an intimacy with the Grasslands kitchens, hinted that Ferguson +was "taken with" the secretary. But Berkeley, fattened by prosperity to +a gross snobbishness, rejected the idea as vulgar and unfitting. + +All this had its value for Mr. Larkin, but it was by accident that he +acquired the most illuminating piece of intelligence. Late one afternoon +he wandered forth into a road that threaded the woods near Grasslands. +The day being warm, the way dusty, he seated himself on a rock to cool +off and ponder. While there, concealed by the surrounding trees, he had +seen two small boys padding toward him down the road, their heads +together in animated debate. Unaware of his presence their voices were +loud and his listening ear caught interesting matter. They had been in +the forbidden area of Grasslands, had gone to Little Fresh for a bathe, +and had almost been caught in the act by a lady and gentleman. + +Mr. Larkin made his presence known, and a dime passed into each grubby +palm won their confidence. + +They were on the wharf slipping off their clothes when they heard +footsteps and had only time to rush to cover in the underbrush when Mr. +Chapman Price appeared. He waited round a bit and then Miss Maitland +came and they sat on the bench and talked. The boys had not been able to +hear what they said, but that it was serious they gathered from Mr. +Price's manner and the fact that Miss Maitland had cried for a spell. +Mr. Price went away first, and as he was going he said loud, standing in +the path, "Take the upper trail and if you meet anybody say you've been +at the beach bathing." Then he'd gone and Miss Maitland had waited a +while, and then she'd gone too, by the upper trail, the way he'd said. + +Mr. Larkin had been very sympathetic and friendly, swore he'd keep his +mouth shut, and cautioned the boys to do the same, for he'd heard that +Mrs. Janney wouldn't stand for any one bathing in Little Fresh and you +couldn't tell but what she might have them arrested. + +The next day he had a meeting with Suzanne in a summer-house on the +Setons' grounds, the Setons being in California for the season. He gave +his report of Miss Maitland's career--entirely worthy and +respectable--and then asked the question Molly had asked Mrs. Janney: +had Mr. Price ever exhibited any special interest in the secretary? Mrs. +Price's surprise and denial were as genuine and emphatic as her mother's +had been and Mr. Larkin arrived at the same conclusion as Molly--here +started the path that led to the heart of the maze. + +He did not say this to Mrs. Price. What he did say was that he would +leave Berkeley shortly and when he had anything of importance to tell +make an appointment with her by letter. It was not necessary to inform +her that his next move would be to Cedar Brook where he had heard that +Chapman Price spent a good deal of his time. + +Cedar Brook, six miles above Berkeley on the main line, had none of the +prestige of its aristocratic neighbor. It was in the process of +development, new houses rising round its outskirts, fields being turned +into lawns. Mr. Larkin took a room in a clapboarded cottage which stared +at other clapboarded cottages through the foliage of locust trees. +Announcing his intention of buying a piece of land, he was soon an +object of general attention and added to his store of knowledge. He +heard a good deal of Chapman Price, who was there off and on with the +Hartleys, and of his man Willitts. It was understood that Willitts was +staying with Price till he got a job, and, as the Hartley house was +small, lodged in the village; in fact, Mr. Larkin learned to his +satisfaction, was living in one of the clapboarded cottages close to his +own. + +Professing a desire to study the environs of Cedar Brook he hired a +wheel, and the third afternoon of his stay peddled out into the country. +It was while passing the private hedge of a large estate, that he came +upon a young man engaged over a disabled bicycle. + +The day was warm, the salt air of the Sound shut out by forest and hill, +the road bathed in a hot glow of sun. The man had taken off his coat, +and, as Mr. Larkin drew near, looked up displaying a smooth-shaven, rosy +face, beaded with perspiration. + +Mr. Larkin, being by nature and profession curious, drew up and made +friendly inquiries. The man answered them, explained the nature of the +damage, his speech marked by the crisp, clipped enunciation of the +Briton. His costume--neglige shirt, knickerbockers and golf +stockings--did not suggest the country house guest, nor was his accent +quite that of the English gentleman. The detective, who had some +knowledge of these delicate distinctions, laid his bicycle against the +bank and proffered his assistance. Together they repaired the stranger's +wheel, and, when it was done, rested from their labors in the shade of +the hedge, and engaged in conversation. This at first was of the +war--the young man explaining that he was English and had volunteered at +once, but been rejected on the ground of his eyes--very near-sighted, +couldn't read the chart at all--touching with an indicating finger the +glasses that spanned his nose. After that he'd come to America; he could +make good money then and had people dependent on him. At this stage Mr. +Larkin asked his profession and learned that he was a valet, by name +James Willitts, just now looking for a place. He _had_ been in the +employ of Mr. Chapman Price and was still staying with him until he got +a new "situation." Mr. Larkin in return recited his little lay about the +plumbing business and the bungalow, and, the introductions accomplished, +they passed to more general topics and soon reached the Janney robbery. + +It was a propitious meeting for the detective, for Willitts proved +himself a free and expansive talker. He launched forth into the subject +with an artless zest, not needing any prompting from his attentive +listener. Mr. Larkin was grateful for it all, but especially so for an +account of the movements of Mr. Price the day before the robbery. He had +sent his valet to Cedar Brook on the morning train, he to follow later +in the afternoon. Willitts, after the unpacking and settling was done, +had biked over to Grasslands to see "the help," and then made the +engagement to meet them that night at the movies. Of course he had to go +back, as part of his work was to lay out Mr. Price's dinner clothes and +help him dress, and it was most unfortunate, because, when he went up to +Mr. Price's room, Mr. Price said he wouldn't change, would keep on the +clothes he had and go motoring. + +"Motoring," observed Mr. Larkin, mildly interested, "did he motor in the +evening?" + +"Not usually--but I don't know if you remember that night. After a heavy +rain it cleared and the moon came out as bright as day." + +Mr. Larkin didn't remember himself but he had a vague recollection of +having read it in some of the papers. + +"It was a wonderful night, and if it hadn't been I'd never have kept my +date. For I got side-tracked--had to fetch the doctor for my landlady's +little girl who was taken bad with the croup. And what with that and the +long distance I'd have given it up if it hadn't been for the moon." + +The detective did not find these details particularly pertinent, and +edged nearer to vital matters: + +"Pretty unpleasant position for those two men, Dixon and Isaac. I was in +Berkeley before I came here and there was a lot of talk." + +The valet looked at him with sharp surprise: + +"But no suspicion rests on _them_, I'll be bound. I lived in that house +since last October and I'll swear that there's not an honester pair in +the whole country." + +Mr. Larkin, as a stranger to the parties, had no need to display a +corresponding warmth, merely remarking that Berkeley was convinced of +their innocence. + +The young man appeased, felt in his coat for a pipe and drew a tobacco +pouch from his pocket. As he filled the bowl, his profile was presented +to the detective's vigilant eye, which dwelt thoughtfully on the neat +outline, almost handsome except that the chin receded slightly. A good +looking fellow, Mr. Larkin thought, and smart--somehow as the +conversation had progressed he was beginning to think him smarter than +he had at the start. + +"How about that Miss Maitland," he said, "the young lady secretary?" + +Willitts had the pipe in his mouth and was pressing the tobacco down +with his thumb. He spoke through closed teeth: + +"What about her?" + +"Well, what sort is she? You needn't tell me she's good looking, for I +saw her once in the post office and she's a peach." + +The valet leaned forward and felt in his coat pocket for matches. The +movement presented his face in full to Mr. Larkin's glance, and the +detective noticed that its bright alertness had diminished, that a +slight film of stolidity had formed over it like ice over a running +stream. The man had removed his pipe and held it in one hand while he +scrabbled round in his coat with the other. + +"She's a very fine young lady; nothing but good's ever been said of her +in _my_ hearing. And very competent in her work--they say--and she would +be, or Mrs. Janney wouldn't keep her." + +He found the matches and, sitting upright, lit one and applied it to the +pipe bowl. The detective, with his eyes ready to swerve to the +landscape, hazarded a shot at the bull's-eye. + +"They were saying--or more hinting I guess you'd call it--that Mr. Price +was--er--getting to look her way too often." + +Willitts was very still. The watching eyes noticed that the flame of the +match burned steady over the pipe bowl; for a moment the valet's breath +was held. Then, without moving, his voice peculiarly quiet, he said: + +"Now I'd like to know who told you _that_?" + +The other gave a lazy laugh: + +"Oh, I can't tell--every kind of rumor was flying about. They were ready +to say anything." + +"Yes, that's it. Say anything to get listened to and not care whose +character they were taking away." + +"Then there's nothing in it?" + +"Tommyrot!" he snorted out the word with intense irritation. "The silly +fools! Mr. Price is no more in love with her than I am. He's not that +kind; he's an honorable gentleman. And, believe me, the wrong's not all +on his side. It's not for me to tell tales of the family, but I will say +that there's not many men could have put up with what he did." + +His face was flushed, he was openly exasperated. Mr. Larkin remembered +what he had heard of the man's affection for the master, and his +thoughts formed into an unspoken sentence, "He knows something and won't +tell." + +"Well, well," he said cheerfully, "when a big thing happens there's +bound to be all sorts of scandal and surmise. People work off their +excitement that way; you can't muzzle 'em--" + +Willitts grunted a scornful assent and rose. It was time to go; Mr. +Price would be coming up from town that night and he would be on duty. +The detective, lifting his bicycle from the grass, casually inquired if +Mr. Price motored from the city. + +"Oh, dear no. He keeps his car here in Sommers' garage--he needs it, +taking people about to see the country. He made a tidy bit of money here +last week." + +"Talking of money," said the other, "did you know that ten thousand +dollars' reward has been offered for those jewels?" + +Willitts, astride his wheel, stretched a feeling foot for the pedal: + +"Yes, I saw it in the papers." + +"Easy money for somebody." + +"Yes, but _is_ there somebody beside the thief--or thieves--who knows? +_That's_ the question." + +They pedaled back side by side talking amicably, mutually pleased to +find they were neighbors. On the outskirts of the village they parted +with promises for a speedy reunion, Willitts to go to the Hartleys, and +Mr. Larkin to Sommers' garage to ask the price of a flivver for an +excursion beyond the reach of his bicycle. + +When he arrived at the garage a large touring car, packed full of veiled +females, was drawn up at the entrance. The driver, with Sommers and his +assistant beside him, had opened the hood and the three of them were +peering into the inner depths with the anxious concentration of doctors +studying the anatomy of a patient. Mr. Larkin walked by them and went +into the garage. He cast a rapid look about him, over the lined-up +motors in the back, and then through the doorway into the small office. +The place was empty. With a stealthy glance at the party round the +touring car, he strolled in to where the time card rack hung on the +wall. He ran his eye down the list of names until he came to "Price" and +drew out the card. The second entry was dated July seventh and showed +that that night Price had taken out his car at eight-thirty and not +returned it until five minutes to two. + + + + +CHAPTER X--MOLLY'S STORY + + +As soon as I had the notes of that 'phone message down I wrote a report +for the Whitney office--just an outline--and posted it myself in the +village. The answer with instructions came the following evening. The +next time Miss Maitland went into town I was to come with her. In the +concourse of the Pennsylvania station I'd see O'Malley (the Whitneys' +detective) and it would be my business to point her out to him. He was +to follow her and I to come to the office and make my full report. Say +nothing of what I'd heard to Mrs. Janney. + +That was Tuesday; Thursday was Miss Maitland's holiday and right along +she'd been going into town. Wednesday afternoon I heard her say she'd go +in as usual on the eight forty-five, tipped off the office by 'phone, +and told Mrs. Janney I'd need that day to make a report to Mr. +Whitney--a business formality that had to be observed. + +Miss Maitland and I went in together, looking very sociable on the +outside, and talking about the weather, the new style in skirts, how +flat Long Island was, and other such ladylike topics. Coming off the +train I stuck to her like a burr, was almost arm in arm going up the +stairs, and then in the concourse broke myself loose and faded away +toward the news stand. Right there, leaning against the magazine end, +I'd seen a large, fat, sloppy-looking man, with a tired panama hat back +from his forehead, and a masonic emblem on his watch chain. + +O'Malley was a first class worker in his line, and his appearance was +worth rubies. He'd a small-town, corner-grocery look that would have +fooled any one unless they'd a scent for a sleuth like a dog for a bone. +As I edged up near him, reaching out for a magazine, he cast a cold, +disdainful glance at me like the rube that's wise to the dangers of the +great city. I dragged a magazine out from behind his back and whispered, +"In the lavender dress and the white hat with the grapes round it." And +dreamy, as if his thoughts were back with mother on the farm, he heaved +himself up from the stand and took the trail. + +The Chief--that's my name for Mr. Whitney--and Mr. George were waiting +for me in the old man's office. Gee, it was great to be there again, +like times in the past when we'd meet together and thrash out the last +findings. Of course the Chief had to have his joke, holding me by the +shoulders and cocking his head to one side as he looked into my face: + +"My, my, Molly, but the country's put a bloom on you! What a pity it is +you're married or you might get one of those millionaires down there." + +And I couldn't help answering fresh--he just sort of dares you to it: + +"I won't say but what I might, Chief. But it's poor sport. Seeing what +they've got to choose from it would be a shame to take the money." + +Mr. George was impatient--he always gets bristly when things are +moving--and cut us off from our fooling when a sharp: + +"Come on, Molly, sit down and let's hear the whole of this." + +So I took up the white man's burden, told them all I'd seen and heard +and picked up, ending off with the full notes of the 'phone talk. Then I +laid the paper on the table and looked at them. The Chief was gazing +thoughtfully at the floor, and Mr. George's face was puckered with a +frown like he'd eaten a persimmon. + +"It's the queerest thing I ever heard in my life," he said. "Chapman and +that girl! Why, it's impossible. Are you sure the man on the 'phone +_was_ Chapman?" + +"It must have been. He spoke of meeting me in the woods and Mr. Price is +the only man I ever met there." + +The Chief looked up, glowering at me from under his big eyebrows: + +"What's your opinion of this Maitland woman?" + +"Well, I don't think there's anything wrong about her--I mean I'd never +get that impression from her general make-up. But before I tapped that +message, I did get a hunch that she was sort of abstracted and shut away +in herself. She'd lonesome habits and she'd look downhearted when she +thought no one saw her. I'd size her up roughly as some one who wasn't +easy in her mind." + +"Have you ever heard anything of her having any sort of affair or +friendship with Price?" + +"Not a hint of it. That's what made me sit up and take notice. Under +everybody's eye the way they were and yet not a soul suspecting +anything--you're not as secret as that for nothing." + +"While they were talking on the 'phone did you notice anything in their +voices--it certainly wasn't in the words--that suggested tenderness or +love?" + +"No, it was more as if they knew each other well. He sounded as if he +was trying to jolly her along, keep up her spirits; and she as if she +was scared, not at _him_ but at what he might do." + +"They'd be careful," said Mr. George. "A man and a woman who were +involved in some dangerous scheme wouldn't coo at each other over the +wire like two turtle doves." + +"Love's hard to hide," said the old man, "betrays itself in small ways. +And Molly's got a fine, trained ear." + +"Well, it caught no love there, Chief. The only person at Grasslands +who's got that complaint is Mrs. Price. She's in love with Mr. +Ferguson." + +Mr. George was very much surprised. + +"The deuce you say!--Old Dick fallen at last." + +The Chief gave a sort of sarcastic grunt. + +"Ferguson can take care of himself. He's not as big a fool as he looks +or pretends to be. Now these extra holidays of Miss Maitland's you've +spoken of--how long has that been going on?" + +"Since April. Before that she never wanted time off and often spent her +Thursdays in the house. At Grasslands this summer she's gone into town +every Thursday and three times asked for extra days. The last was July +the eighth, the day after the robbery." + +"Umph!" muttered the old man. "I guess we'll know something about that +when we hear from O'Malley." + +Mr. George, slumped down in his chair, with his hands thrust in his +pockets, his chin pressed on his collar, said gloomily: + +"I confess I'm dazed. It's perfectly possible that Chapman, who didn't +like his wife, should have fallen in love with the girl, it's perfectly +natural that they should have kept it dark; but that he's joined with +her in a plan to steal Mrs. Janney's jewels!"--he shook his head staring +in front of him--"I can't get the focus. Price wouldn't qualify for a +Sunday school superintendent, but I can't seem to see him as a gentleman +burglar." + +"He was mad when he left," I said. "He made a sort of scene." + +"What's that?" growled the old man, looking up quick. + +"He got angry and threatened them. I don't know just in what way because +I've only caught it in bits and scraps. But Dixon heard him and told in +the village where I picked up an echo of it. He said they'd stolen his +child." + +"Sounds like him--an ugly temper. Try and get exactly what he said if +you can." + +We talked on a while, going back and forth over it like a lawn mower +over grass. Then a knock on the door stopped us; a boy put in his head +and announced: + +"Mr. O'Malley's outside and wants to see Mr. Whitney." + +Mr. George and I squared round in our chairs with our eyes glued on the +doorway. The Chief, slouched down comfortable with his shirt-bosom +bulging, looked like a sleepy old bear, but from under the jut of his +eyebrows his glance shone as keen as a razor. O'Malley entered, hot and +red, his panama in his hand, and that air about him I've seen before--a +suppressed triumph gleaming out through the cracks. + +"Well?" says Mr. George, curt and sharp. + +O'Malley took a chair and mopped his forehead: + +"There's no mistake she's got something up her sleeve. She took the +Seventh Avenue car and went downtown until she came to Jefferson Court +house, got out there, went a few blocks into the Greenwich Village +section and stopped at a house on a small sort of thoroughfare called +Gayle Street. I think she let herself in with a key, but I'm not sure. +The place is a shady-looking rookery, no porch or steps, door opening +right on the sidewalk, three windows to each floor, mansard roof. About +ten minutes after she went in, a man came down the street, walking +quick, hat low over his eyes--it was Mr. Chapman Price." + +Mr. George stirred and gave a mutter. The old man, stretching his hand +to the cigar box at his elbow, took out a large fat cigar and said: + +"Price, eh?--Go on." + +"I thought the lady'd used a key, and I saw plain that he did. The door +opened and he went in. I crossed over and looked at the bells. There +were nine of them, all with names underneath except the top floor ones. +These, the last three of the line, had no names, showing the top floor +was vacant. + +"There was a drug store right opposite and I went in, took a soda, and +asked the clerk about the locality--said I was looking for lodgings in +that section. I got him round to the house, where I heard I might get a +room cheap. He said maybe I could--being summer there'd be +vacancies--that the place was decent enough, but he'd heard pretty poor +and mean. Just as I got through talking to him and was leaving I saw the +door across the street open, and Mr. Price come out. He came quick, on +the slant, and was among the folks on the sidewalk before you could +notice. It was the way a man acts when he doesn't want to be seen. He +walked off toward Seventh Avenue, his head down, keeping close to the +houses. I didn't wait for Miss Maitland--thought I'd better come back +here and report." + +"Well!" said Mr. George. "I'm jiggered if I can make head or tail of +it." + +The Chief took the cigar out of his mouth and addressed O'Malley: + +"Find out Price's movements on the night of July seventh, everything he +did, everywhere he went." He turned to me. "And you want to remember not +a hint of this gets to Mrs. Janney. She hates Price and when her blood's +up she's a red Indian. We don't want the family drawn in until we know +something." + + + + +CHAPTER XI--FERGUSON'S IDEA + + +During these days Dick Ferguson thought a good deal and said very +little. Like the rest of his world he wondered over the unsolved mystery +of the Janney robbery, but his wonderings contained an element of +discomfort. He heard the subject discussed everywhere and often the name +of Esther Maitland came up in the discussions. Not that any one ever +suggested she might be involved;--it was more a sympathetic appreciation +of her position. Every one spoke very feelingly about it:--poor girl, so +uncomfortable for her, knowing the combination and all that sort of +thing--the Janneys had stood by her splendidly, but still it _was_ +trying. + +It tried _him_ a good deal, made inroads on his temper, until it lost +its sunny evenness and he was sometimes short and surly. The day after +Molly and Esther went to town he had been called to a conference in the +Fairfax house on the bluff. A gang of motor boat thieves had been +operating along the Sound, had already stolen two launches, and the +owners of water-front property had convened to decide on a course. +Ferguson, with a small fleet to his credit, had taken rather a high +hand, and shown an unwonted irritation at the indecision of his +associates. If they wanted their boats protected it was up to them to do +it, establish a shore police patrol financed by themselves. That was +what he intended to do and they could join with him or not as they +pleased. He left them, ruffled by his brusqueness and remarking grumpily +that "Ferguson was beginning to feel his money." + +He went from the meeting to his own beach and on the way met Suzanne +returning with Bbita from the morning bath. They stopped for a chat in +the course of which Suzanne made a series of remarks not calculated to +soothe his perturbed spirit. They were apropos of Miss Maitland, who had +taken an early morning swim, all alone, refusing to wait and go in with +them. Suzanne said it was a pity Miss Maitland kept so much to +herself--the girl seemed depressed and out of spirits lately, didn't he +think so? Quite different to what she had been earlier in the season, +seemed to be troubled about something. Too bad--every one liked her so +much, and people _did_ talk so. Then with an artless smile she went off +under her white parasol. + +There was no smile on Ferguson's face as he walked to his boat houses. +He told his men of the police patrol--to operate along the shore after +nightfall--gave a few gruff orders and disappeared into a bath house. +When he emerged, stripped for a swim, he stalked silently by them and +dove from the end of the wharf. They were surprised at his manner, +usually so genial, and wondered among themselves watching his head, +sleek as a wet seal's, receding over the shining water. + +The head was full of what Suzanne had said. Though he had offered no +agreement to her suggestions, he _had_ noticed the change in Esther. He +had noticed it soon after the robbery, in fact before that, for it had +dated from the evening when she dined at his house, the night the jewels +were taken. Disturbance grew in him as he thought:--if so shallow a +creature as Suzanne could see it, others could. And Suzanne had no +sense, no realization of the weight of words. She might go round +chattering like a fool and get the girl talked about. It would be the +decent thing to give Esther a hint, put her wise to the fact that she +ought to brighten up--not give any one a chance to say she was not as +she had been. + +As his long, muscular body slid through the water he decided to go over +and have a talk with her. The decision cheered him, for to be with +Esther Maitland was the keenest pleasure he knew. + +Suzanne had told him she and her mother would be out that afternoon, so +at three--the hour they were to leave--he set out for Grasslands by the +wood path. As he crossed the garden his questing glance met an +encouraging sight--Esther Maitland sitting under a group of maples at +the end of the terrace. She was alone, an empty chair beside her, her +head bowed over a book. + +Her welcoming smile was very sweet; his eye noticed a faint color rise +in her cheeks as he came up. These signs were so agreeable that he would +like to have sat there, placidly enjoying her presence, but he was a +person who once possessed by an idea "had to get it out of his system." +This he proceeded to do, advancing on his subject with what he thought +was a crafty indirectness: + +"You know, Miss Maitland, you're not a credit to Long Island." + +She raised her brows, deprecating, also amused: + +"What have I done?" + +"It's what you haven't done. We expect people to come here worn and +weary and then blossom like the rose. You've gone back on the +tradition." + +She stretched a hand for a bundle of knitting--a soldier's muffler--on +the table beside her: + +"I don't feel worn or weary and I'm sorry I look so." + +"Oh, you always _look_ lovely," he hastily assured her. "I didn't mean +that it wasn't becoming. But--er--er--what I wanted to say was--er--why +is it?" + +Miss Maitland began to knit, her face bent over the work, her dark head +backed by the green distances of the lawn. Ferguson thought she had the +most beautifully shaped head he had ever seen. He would like to have +leaned back in his chair studying its classic outline. But he was there +for a purpose and he held himself sternly to it, looking at her profile +and trying to forget that it was as fine as her head. + +"I don't know why it is," she answered, "but I do know that you're not +very complimentary." + +"If you give me a dare like that I'll show you how complimentary I _can_ +be. But I'll put that off until later. What I think is that you're +worrying--that the robbery has got on your nerves." + +"Why should it get on my nerves?" + +He was aware of her eyes--diverted from the knitting--looking curiously +at him: + +"Why, it's been so--so--unpleasant, all this fuss and publicity. It's +been a shock." + +Her hands with the knitting dropped into her lap. She was now staring +fixedly at him: + +"Do you mean that I'm worrying because I think I may be suspected of +it?" + +He was shocked to angry repudiation. + +"Good Lord, no! What a thing to say!" + +She took up her work, and answered with cool composure: + +"Nevertheless I _have_ wondered if anybody ever thought it. You see I'm +the only one in the house--the only one who knows the combination--who +_is_ a sort of stranger. Dixon and Isaac are like members of the +family." + +"Don't talk such rubbish," he protested, then leaning nearer, "Have you +had _that_ on your mind all this time? Is _that_ what's made the +change?" + +She looked up at him, startled: + +"Change--what change?" + +"Change in you. Yes," in answer to the disturbed inquiry of her glance, +"there is one. I've noticed it; other people have." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Why, you're different, you've lost your good spirits. You're not like +you were before this happened." + +Her response came with something combative in its countering quickness: + +"I'm busier than I used to be. Since the robbery I've taken over a good +deal of the housekeeping. Mrs. Janney has been much more upset than you +guess." + +"And you're so withdrawn, keep more to yourself. I used to find you +about when I came over; now I almost never see you." + +The interview had taken on the character of a verbal duel, he thrusting, +she parrying, both earnest and insistent. + +"I've just told you; I have more work, I've not the leisure I used to +have." + +"So busy you have to shun people?" + +"That's absurd, you imagine it. I've never shunned any one and there's +no reason why I should." + +"I agree with you but let me ask one more question. You say your work is +harder and you _do_ look tired and worn out. Why don't you take a decent +rest on your holidays? Last year you spent them here, out of doors, +loafing about. Now you go to town. I've been over twice on Thursdays and +when I ask for you, always hear you're in the city. And you've been at +other times too--Mrs. Janney told me so. It's the most fatiguing thing +you can do in this hot weather. Why do you go?" + +He saw her color suddenly deepen. She had let the knitting drop to her +lap and now she took it up again and began to work, very fast, the +needles flashing in her white hands. She smiled as she answered: + +"You seem to have kept rather a sharp look-out on me, Mr. Ferguson. Did +it never occur to you that a woman _might_ need clothes, or might want +to see a friend who happened to be staying in town for the summer?" + +The young man had been admiring the white hands. As she spoke something +in their movements caught and held his eye--they were trembling. He was +so surprised that he made no answer, his glance riveted on them trying +to hold the needles steady to their task. Miss Maitland made an effort +to go on, then dropped the knitting in a bunch on her knees and clasped +the hands over it. Neither speaking, their eyes met. The expression of +hers, furtively apprehensive like a scared child's pierced his heart and +he leaned toward her, his sunburned face full of concern: + +"Miss Maitland, what's wrong? Something is--tell me." + +Without answering she shook her head, her lips tightly compressed. He +could see that she was shaken, that the clasped hands on her knee were +clenched together to control their trembling. He could see that, for a +moment, taken unawares, she did not trust herself to speak. + +"Look here," he said, low and urgent, "be frank with me. I've seen for +some time something was troubling you--I told you so that night at my +place. Why not let me lend a hand? That's what I want to do--that's what +I'm _for_." + +She had found her voice and it came with a high, light hardness, in +curious contrast to the feeling in his: + +"You're all wrong, Mr. Ferguson. You're seeing what doesn't exist." She +started to her feet, making a grab at her knitting as it slid toward the +ground. "Oh, my needle! I almost pulled it out. That _would_ have been a +calamity." She carefully pushed the stitches on to the needle as if her +whole interest lay in preserving the woven fabric. "There I've picked +them up, not lost one." Then she looked at them, smiling, her expression +showing a veiled defiance, "You ought to have been a novelist--your +imagination's wasted. Here you are seeing me as a distressed damsel, +while I'm only a perfectly normal, perfectly common-place person. +Romantic fiction would have been your line." + +She gave a laugh that brought the blood to the young man's face, for its +musical ripple contained a note of derision: + +"But for my sake please curb your fancy. Don't suggest to my employers +that I'm weighted down by a secret sorrow. They mightn't like a blighted +being for a secretary and I might lose my job, and then I really _would_ +be worried." + +He stood it unflinching, only the dark flush betraying his +mortification. He assured her of his reticence and ended by asking her +pardon. She granted it, even thanked him for his concern in her behalf +and with a smile that was still mocking, said she had notes to write, +gathered up her work, and bade him good-by. + +Dick Ferguson walked back through the woods to Council Oaks. When the +first discomfort of the rebuff had passed he pondered deeply. He was +sure now beyond the peradventure of a doubt that Esther Maitland was in +trouble of some kind, and was ready to use all the weapons at her +command to keep him from finding it out. + +Two nights after that he dined at Grasslands. It was just a family +party, and, being such, Miss Maitland was present. She met him with the +subdued quietness that he was beginning to recognize as her "social +secretary manner"--the manner of the lady employee, politely colorless +and self-effacing. + +In the dining room, with its clustered lights along the walls, where +long windows framed the deep blue night, they looked a gay and goodly +party. To the unenlightened observer they might have stood for a typical +group of the care-free rich, waited on by obsequious menials, feeding +sumptuously in sumptuous surroundings. Yet each one of them was preyed +upon by secret anxieties. + +When the ladies withdrew Mr. Janney and Ferguson sat on smoking and +sipping their coffee. If every member of the party had his hidden +distress, Mr. Janney's was by no means the least. His problem was still +unsolved, still menacing. Kissam's suggestion and his own fond hope, +that the jewels would be restored had not been realized, and he was +contemplating the day when he would have to face Suzanne with his +knowledge. Damocles beneath the suspended sword was not more +uncomfortable than he. Any allusion to the robbery made his heart sink, +and, as the allusions were frequent, conversation had become a thing +harkened to with held breath and sick anticipation. + +Alone with Ferguson he was experiencing the usual qualms, but the young +man, instead of the customary questions, asked him his opinion of +Willitts, Chapman's valet, whom he thought of engaging. Mr. Janney +brightened up, told Dixon to bring some of his own especial cigars, and +relapsed into tranquillity. He could recommend Willitts highly, smart, +capable and honest, but he thought he'd heard Dick say he couldn't stand +a valet fussing about him. Dick had said it and was still of the same +mind, but most of his guests were men and he needed some one to look +after their clothes. They made a lot of bother, the servants had kicked, +and he'd thought of Willitts. + +Mr. Janney could give no information as to Willitts' whereabouts, but +Dixon, entering with the cigar box and lamp, could. Willitts was at +Cedar Brook where Mr. Price spent a good deal of time; he was still +disengaged and looking for a position, if Mr. Ferguson would like Dixon +would get word to him. Mr. Ferguson would like, and, the box presented +at his elbow, he took out a cigar and held its tip to the lamp. Mr. +Janney forgot Willitts and drew his guest's attention to the cigar, a +special brand of rare excellence. + +"We keep them in the safe," said the old man. "Only place that's secure +against the damp. It was Chapman's idea--the one thing in my +acquaintance with Chapman I'm grateful for." + +It was an unfortunate remark, for Ferguson, leaning back in his chair +with the cigar between his lips, murmured dreamily: + +"The safe--do you know I've been thinking over things lately. I can't +understand one point. Why didn't the thief take those jewels when the +house was virtually empty instead of waiting until it was full?" + +Mr. Janney's heart took a dizzying, downward dive. He had been looking +forward to his smoke, now all his zest departed, his old, veined hand +shaking as it felt in the box. + +Ferguson went on: + +"The fellow may have come in early and hidden himself--not got down to +business until every one was asleep." + +Mr. Janney emitted an agreeing murmur and motioned Dixon to hold the +lamp nearer. As he bent toward it the young man was silent and Mr. +Janney began to hope that the obnoxious subject was abandoned. He sent a +side glance at his guest and the hope was strengthened. Ferguson had +taken his cigar from his lips and was looking at the paper band that +encircled it. He was looking at it so intently that Mr. Janney felt sure +his interest was diverted and sought to drive it into safer channels. + +"Pretty fine cigar, eh?" he said. "This is the first of a new lot, just +come." + +Ferguson drew the band off and laid it beside his plate: + +"Excellent. That's a good idea--keeping them in the safe. Do you always +do it?" + +"Yes, it's the only thing--much better than a humidor." + +"I haven't got a safe or I'd try it. Did you have any there the night of +the robbery?" + +Mr. Janney felt that the gods had sought him out for a special vengeance +and murmured drearily: + +"I believe so--a few. Dixon knows." + +Dixon who was on his way to the door turned: + +"Yes, sir, only one box, the last we had." + +Ferguson laughed: + +"If the thief had had time to try one he'd have taken the box along +too." + +Dixon, who treated all allusions to the subject with a tragical +seriousness, said: + +"I don't think he touched them, sir. The box looked just the same. Mr. +Kissam was very particular to ask about it, but I told him I thought +they was intact, as you might say. Though if it was the loss of one or +two I couldn't be certain." + +Dixon left the room and Mr. Janney looked dismally at his plate, having +no spirit to fight against fate. Ferguson, with a glance at his +down-drooped face, picked up the band and slipped it in his pocket. + +He did not stay long after dinner. As soon as his car came he left, +telling the chauffeur to hurry. At home he ran up the stairs to his +room, switched on the light over the bureau and opened the box with the +crystal lid. Under the studs and pins lay the band Esther had found the +night he walked with her through the woods. He compared it with the one +he took from his pocket and saw that they matched. The new one he threw +into the fireplace, but put the other back in the box--it was something +more than a souvenir. Then he sat down on the end of the sofa and +thought. + +Mr. Janney could not have dropped it for he had driven both to and from +Council Oaks. Neither Dixon nor Isaac could have, for they had gone to +the village by the main road and come back the same way at midnight. He +had found it at half-past ten, untouched by the heavy shower, which had +lasted from about seven till half-past eight. Therefore, whoever had +thrown it there had passed that way between the time when the rain +stopped and the time when Esther had found it. It had been dropped +either by a man who had one of the cigars in his possession and had been +on the wood path between eight-thirty and ten-thirty, or by a man who +had taken a cigar from the safe between those hours. + +Ferguson sat staring at the wall with his brows knit. If it had not been +for the light his own gardener had seen he would have felt that he had +struck the right road. + + + + +CHAPTER XII--THE MAN WHO WOULDN'T TELL + + +Mr. Larkin had lingered on at Cedar Brook. He said that he needed a +holiday, the prosperity of the last year had worn him out, also the +bungalow sites were many and a decision difficult. + +He saw a good deal of Willitts; they had become very friendly, almost +chums. Their lodgings were but a few yards apart and of evenings they +smoked neighborly pipes on the porch steps, and of afternoons took walks +into the country. During these hours their talk ranged over many +subjects, the valet proving himself a brightly loquacious companion. But +upon a subject that Mr. Larkin introduced with delicate +artfulness--Price and Esther Maitland--he maintained the evasive +reticence that had marked him at their first meeting. For all the walks +and talks Mr. Larkin learned no more, and as his curiosity remained +unsatisfied his inclination for Willitts' society increased. + +It was a few days after that first meeting that, strolling down Main +Street toward Sommers' garage, the detective stopped short, staring at +two figures emerging from the garage entrance. One was Sommers, the +other a fat, red-faced man with a sunburned Panama on the back of his +head. A glance at this man and Mr. Larkin turned on his heel and made +down a side lane at a swinging gait. Safe out of range behind a lilac +hedge, he slowed up, lifted his hat from a perspiring brow and swore to +himself, low and fiercely. He had recognized Gus O'Malley, private +detective of Whitney & Whitney, and he knew that Whitney & Whitney were +Mrs. Janney's lawyers. Another investigation was on foot, evidently +following on the lines of his own. + +After two days O'Malley left by the evening train and Mr. Larkin emerged +from a temporary retirement, and sought coolness and solitude on the +front porch. Here, when night had fallen, Willitts joined him taking a +seat on the top step. + +The house behind them was empty of all other tenants, its open front +door letting a long gush of light down the steps and across the pebbled +path to the gate. It was a warm night, heavy and breathless, and Mr. +Larkin, in his shirt sleeves, lolled comfortably, his chair tilted back, +his feet on the railing. The place where he sat was shaded with vines, +and he was discernible as a long, out-stretched bulk, detailless in the +shadow. + +Willitts had good news to impart; that afternoon he had been to Council +Oaks to see Mr. Ferguson who had engaged him as valet. It was an A1 +place, the pay high, the duties light, Mr. Ferguson known to be generous +and easy tempered. Congratulations were in order from Mr. Larkin, and if +they lacked in warmth Willitts did not appear to notice it. + +A pause fell, and his next remark caused the detective to deflect his +gaze from the darkling street to the head of the steps: + +"Did you notice a chap about here yesterday--a fat, untidy looking man +in a Panama hat and a brown sack suit?" + +Mr. Larkin had and wanted to know where Willitts had seen him. + +"In Sommers' garage. He was hiring a motor, wanted to see the +country--and Sommers telling him I knew it well, asked me to go with +him." + +"Did you go?" + +"I did; I had nothing else to do. We went a long way, through Berkeley +and beyond. He's what you'd call here 'some talker' and curious--I'd say +very curious if you asked me." + +"Curious about what?" + +"Everything in the neighborhood, but especially the robbery." + +"Did he have any theories about it?" + +"None that I hadn't heard before." + +The detective laughed: + +"That accounts for the drive--hoped he'd get some racy gossip about the +family out of you." + +"Maybe that _was_ his idea." + +"Of course it was. I'll bet he pumped you about Price." + +"I don't know that I'd call it pumping--he did ask some questions." + +Willitts was sitting with his elbows on his knees, his hands supporting +his chin. The light from the open door behind him lay over his back, +gilded the top of his smooth head and slanted across his cheek. He was +not smoking and he was very still, facts noted by Mr. Larkin. + +The detective stretched, yawned with a sleepy sound and said: + +"So it's still a subject of popular curiosity, is it?" + +"Yes, _it_ is, but why should Mr. Price be?" + +The valet's voice was low and quiet, holding a quality hard to define; +the listener decided it was less uneasiness than resentment. After a +moment's silence he spoke again, very softly, as if the words were +self-communings: + +"I'd like to know who the feller is." + +Mr. Larkin's feet came down from the rail striking the floor with a +thud. He sat up and looked at his friend: + +"I can tell you. He's a detective, Gus O'Malley, employed by Whitney & +Whitney." + +Willitts' hands dropped and he squared round: + +"A detective! _That's_ it, is it? _That_ accounts for the milk in the +cocoanut. I might have guessed it. And what's he after me for?" + +"You lived at Grasslands. Something might be dug out of you." + +"But tell me, why should he be curious about Mr. Price?" + +He had dropped one hand on the flooring and supported by it leaned +forward toward his companion. The boyish good humor had gone from his +face; it looked sharp-set and pugnacious. + +The other shrugged: + +"Ask _him_. All I can tell you is that Whitney & Whitney are Mrs. +Janney's lawyers." + +Willitts pondered, and while he pondered his eyes stared past the +shadowy shape that was Mr. Larkin into the vine-draped blackness of the +porch. Then he said: + +"Mrs. Janney's down on Mr. Price. She's all for her daughter. I think +she 'ates 'im." + +The two h's dropped off with a simple unconsciousness that surprised Mr. +Larkin. Never before in his intercourse with Willitts had he heard the +letter so much as slighted. He made a mental note of it and said dryly: + +"So I've heard." + +The man again relapsed into thought, his glance riveted on the darkness, +his expression obviously perturbed. Suddenly he looked at the vague bulk +of Mr. Larkin and said sharply: + +"'Ow do _you_ know so much about 'im?" + +Mr. Larkin's answer came out of the shadow with businesslike promptness: + +"Because I'm a detective myself." + +For a moment the valet's face seemed to set, lose its flesh and blood +mobility and harden into something stony, its lines fixed, vitality +suspended,--a vacuous, staring mask. Then life came back to it, broke +its iciness, and flooded it with a frank, almost ludicrous astonishment. + +"You--you!" he stammered out, "and me never so much as thinking it! +Would any one, I'm asking you? Would--" he stopped, his amazement gone, +a sudden belligerent fierceness taking its place, "And are you after Mr. +Price too?" + +Mr. Larkin laughed: + +"I'm after no one at this stage. I'm only assembling data. If O'Malley's +got to the point of finding a suspect he's far ahead of me." + +Willitts' excitement instantly subsided; his answer showed a hurried +urgence: + +"No, no--he didn't say anything one could take 'old of--only a few +questions. And it's maybe all in my feelings. I couldn't bear a person +to think evil of Mr. Price. It 'urts me; I'd be sensitive; I might see +it if it wasn't there." + +"If you got that impression I guess it _was_ there." + +This remark, delivered with a sardonic dryness, appeared to rekindle +Willitts' anger. It flared up like the leap of a flame: + +"Then to 'ell with 'im. If they're working up any dirty suspicions +against my gentleman they've come to the wrong man. I've got nothing to +say; there's no information to be wormed out of _me_ for I 'ave none. +Umph--lies, trickery--that's what _I_ call it!" + +He dropped back into his former position, his angry breathings loud on +the silence, mutterings of rage breaking through them. + +"Well," said Mr. Larkin, "now I've put you wise you can form your own +conclusion as to what's in their minds." + +"Is it in yours, too?" + +The question came quick, shot out between the deep-drawn breaths. Mr. +Larkin was ready for it: + +"I told you I hadn't got as far as that; I'm just feeling my way. But +let me say something to you." He rose and, going to the steps, sat down +beside Willitts, dropping his voice to a confidential key. "I'll be +frank with you--I'll show you how I stand. I didn't intend to tell you +what I was, but this fellow coming up here has forced my hand. He knows +me, he'll be after you again, and you'd have found it out. Now, here's +my position: I want to get this case; it's my first big one and it'll +make me every way--professionally and financially." + +He looked at the man beside him who, gazing into the street, nodded +without speaking. + +"There's ten thousand dollars offered for the restoration of the jewels. +If I could get them I'd share that money with the person +who--who--er--helped." + +Willitts repeated his silent nod. + +"And even if I didn't get them I'd pay and pay well for any information +that would be useful." + +"I see," said the other, "'oever 'elps along in the good work gets 'is +reward." + +Mr. Larkin did not like the words or the tone, but went on, his +confidential manner growing persuasive: + +"I'm engaged on the side of law and order. All I'm trying to do is to +restore stolen property to its owner. Any one that helps me is only +doing his duty." + +"A duty that gets its dues, as you might say." + +"Exactly. The money made by such services is earned honestly and there's +plenty of it to earn." + +"Righto! When the Janneys want a thing they'll open the purse wide and +generous." + +"And here's a point worth noticing: What I'm hired for is to get the +jewels, not the thief. The party behind me isn't out for vengeance or +prosecution. If I could deliver the goods it would be all right and no +questions asked. But the Whitneys wouldn't stop there--they're +bloodhounds when it comes to the chase. If they got anything on Price +they'd come down on him good and hard and Mrs. Janney'd stand in with +them." + +He was looking with anxious intentness at Willitts' profile. As he +finished it turned slowly, until the face was offered in full to his +watchful scrutiny. It was forbidding, the eyes sweeping him with a cold +contempt: + +"I can't 'elp understanding you, Larkin, and I'm sorry to 'ear you got +your suspicions of my gentleman and of _me_. The first is too low to +take notice of; the second is as bad, but I'll answer it to put us both +straight. I'm not the kind you take me for; I'm not to be bought. Even +if I did know anything that would be 'useful' as you say, wild 'orses +wouldn't drag it out of me. And no more will filthy lucre. Filthy--it's +the right name for it, you couldn't get a better." He rose, not so much +angry as hurt and haughty. "I can't find it in me to sit 'ere any +longer. I could talk of insults, but I won't. All I'll say is that I've +'ad a bit too much, and not wanting to 'ear more I'll bid you +good-night." + +Before the detective could find words to answer he had gone down the +path and vanished in the darkness. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII--MOLLY'S STORY + + +One of the chief features of detective work is that you must be able to +change your mind. That may not sound hard--especially when the owner of +the mind happens to be a female--but believe me it's some stunt. You get +pointed one way, and to have to shift and face round in another is candy +for a weather vane but bread for a sleuth. + +Well, that's what happened to me. In the week that followed my visit to +the Whitneys I had to start out fresh on a new line of thought. I'd left +the office pretty certain, as the others were, that the bond between +Esther Maitland and Chapman Price was love, and before those seven days +were gone I'd thrown that theory into the discard, rolled up my sleeves, +taken a cinch in my belt, and set forth to blaze a new trail. + +I came round to it slow at first and I came round through Mr. Ferguson. +It was fine weather and when Bbita would go off with Annie, I'd curl up +in my conning tower in the school room window and take observations. As +I said before, it was a convenient place, just over Miss Maitland's +study, deserted all afternoon, and with the Venetian blinds down against +the sun, I could sit comfortable on my cushion and spy out between the +slats. + +The first thing that caught my attention was that Mr. Ferguson, who'd +come over pretty nearly every day, wouldn't make straight for the front +piazza which was the natural way to get there. Instead he'd take a +slanting course across the garden, come up some steps to the terrace, +and then walk slow past the study door. Sometimes he'd see Miss Maitland +and stop for a chat, and sometimes she wouldn't be there and he'd go by. +But each and every time, thinking no one was watching, he'd let a look +come on his face that's common to the whole male sex when the one +particular star is expected above the horizon. I guess the cave man got +it when, club in hand, he was chasing the cave girl and Solomon with his +six hundred wives must have had it stamped on his features so it came to +be his habitual expression. + +Though it was registered good and plain on Mr. Ferguson's countenance, I +couldn't at first believe it. It was too like a novel, too like +Cinderella and the Prince. Then, seeing it so frequent, I was convinced. +I'd say to myself "Why not--a girl's a girl if she is a plutocrat's +social secretary, and all men are free and equal when it comes to +disposing of their young affections." The romance of it got me, gripped +at my heart. I'd sit with my eye to the crack in the blinds staring down +at him as he'd send that look out for her--that wonderful look, that +look which gives you chills and fever, blind staggers and heart failure +and you'd rather have than a blank check drawn to your order and signed +by John Rockefeller. Oh, gee--I was a girl once myself--don't I know! +I'd have been interested if it was just an ordinary love story, but it +wasn't. It was a love story with a mystery for good measure; it was a +love story that had Mrs. Price thrown in to complicate the plot; it was +a love story that was all tangled up with other elements; and it was a +love story that I only could see one side of. + +For I couldn't get at her feelings at all. This was mostly because I +hardly ever saw her with him. If she did happen to be there when he +passed, she'd be either in her room or under the balcony roof and I +couldn't see how she acted or hear what she said. Also she had such a +hold on herself, had such a calm, reserved way with her, that you'd have +to be a clairvoyant to get under her guard. + +Any woman would have been thrilled but _me_, knowing what I did--can't +you see my thoughts going round in wheels and whirligigs? If she +reciprocated--and there's few that wouldn't or I don't know my own +sex--what was she doing with Price? Was she a siren playing the two of +them? Was she Mrs. Price's secret rival with both men? Was she the kind +of vampire heroine they have in plays who can break up a burglar-proof +home with one hand tied behind her? You wouldn't think it to look at +her--but the more I hit the high spots of society the more I feel you +can't tell people by the ordinary trade-marks. + +Then one afternoon toward the end of the week I saw a little scene right +under my window that lightened up the darkness. It gave me what I call +facts; what the Whitneys, anyway Mr. George--but that belongs farther +on. + +Mr. Ferguson came out of the wood path, across the garden and on his +usual beat, up the terrace steps. He had a spray of lemon verbena in his +hand and as he walked over the grass with his long, light stride, he +kept his eyes on the balcony keen and expectant, his face all eager and +serious. Suddenly it changed, brightened, softened, glowed like the +sunlight had fallen on it--you didn't need to be a detective to know +she'd come out of the study. + +This time she came down the steps and went toward him. They met under my +window and stood there, he facing me, brushing his lips with the spray +of lemon verbena and looking down at her, a lover if ever I saw one. He +asked her what she was doing that afternoon, and she said going for a +walk, and when he wanted to know where, she said through the woods to +the beach. "A solitary walk?" he asked and she said yes, her walks were +always solitary. + +"By preference?" + +She turned half away from him and I could see her profile. I'd hardly +have known it for Miss Maitland's, soft, shy, the cheek pink. Her eyes +were on the toe of her shoe, white against the green grass, and with her +head drooping she was like a girl, bashful and blushing before her beau. + +"It generally is by preference," she said. + +"Would it exclude me," he asked, "if I tried to butt in?" + +She didn't answer for a moment, then said very low: + +"Not if you really wanted to come--didn't do it just to be kind to a +lonesome lady." + +"Lonesome lady be hanged," he exclaimed as joyful as if she'd given him +a kiss, "it's just the other way round--kindness to a lonesome +gentleman. I'm terribly lonesome this afternoon." + +But he wasn't going to be long--far from it. Round the corner of the +house, walking soft as a cat, came Mrs. Price. She made me think of a +cat every way, stepping so stealthy, her body so slim and lithe, a +small, secret smile on her face as if she'd come on two nice little +helpless mice. She was all in white, shining and spotless, a tennis +racket in one hand, a bunch of letters in the other. They didn't see her +and she got quite close, then said, sweet and smooth as treacle: + +"Good afternoon, Dick." + +They weren't doing anything but planning a walk, but they both started +like it had been a murder. + +"Oh," says Mr. Ferguson, looking blankly disconcerted, "oh, Suzanne, I +didn't see you. How do you do--good afternoon." + +She came to a halt and stood softly swinging her racket, looking at him +with that mean, cold smile. + +"I was in my room and saw you so I came down at once. It's a splendid +afternoon for our game, not a breath of wind." + +I saw, and she saw, and I guess any but a blind man could have seen, +he'd a date to play tennis with her and had forgotten it. Of course a +woman would have scrambled out, had _something_ to offer that made a +noise like an excuse; but that poor prune of a man--they're all alike +when a quick lie's needed--couldn't think of a thing to say. He just +stood between them, looking haunted and stammering out such gems of +thought as, "Our game--of course our game--I hadn't noticed it but there +_is_ no wind." + +She had him; he couldn't throw her down after he'd made the engagement, +and with her there he couldn't say what he wanted to Esther Maitland. +And neither of them helped him; Mrs. Price listened to his flounderings +with the little smile, light and cool on her painted lips, and Miss +Maitland stood by, not a word out of her. I noticed that Mrs. Price +never looked at her, acted as if she wasn't there, and presently +Ferguson, getting desperate, turns to her and says: + +"How about taking our walk later--after Mrs. Price and I have finished +our game?" + +The girl got red, burning; she started to answer, but Mrs. Price cut in, +for the first time addressing her: + +"Oh, Miss Maitland, that reminds me--I want these letters answered, if +you'll be so kind. Just follow the notes on the edges, and please do it +as soon as possible--they're rather important. They must go out on the +evening mail." + +She handed the letters to the girl and Esther Maitland took them with a +murmur. I know that kind of answer--it's the agreeing response of the +wage-earner. It comes soft and polite--it has to--but like the pleasant +rippling of the ocean on the beach it's not the only sound that element +can give forth. + +Ferguson tried to say something; he was mad and mortified and everything +else he ought to have been, but she wouldn't give him a chance. + +"Come along, Dick," she says, bright and easy, "you've kept me waiting +which is very rude, but I'm in a good humor and I'll forgive you. +There's a racket at the court--we were playing there this morning. You +can walk with Miss Maitland some other day. I'm afraid she'll have to +attend to _my_ work this afternoon." + +He got balky, lingered, looked at Miss Maitland, but she turned sharply +away and moved toward the balcony. So there was nothing for him to do +but to go off with his captor. I couldn't but look after them, both in +beautiful white clothes, both rich, both young, he so tall, she so slim, +for all the world like a picture of lovers on the cover of a magazine. +Then I switched back to Miss Maitland. She's come to a halt, right below +the window, and, standing there like a graven image, was watching them. + +I never saw any one so still. You wouldn't have known she was alive +except for her eyes which moved after them, moved and moved, until the +pair disappeared behind the rose-covered trellis that hid the courts. +Then she let out a sound, a smothered ejaculation that you couldn't +spell with letters; but you didn't need to, it said more than printed +pages. Rage was in it and pain and love. They were in her face, too, +stamped and cut into it. I wouldn't have known it for hers, it was all +marred and tragic, a pitiful, dreadful face. + +She looked blankly at the letters in her hand, at first as if she didn't +know what they were, then crumpled them, threw them on the ground and +made a run for the balcony. She was almost there, I craning my neck to +keep her in sight, when she stopped, wheeled around, went back to the +scattered papers and picked them up. "Oh, bread and butter," I thought, +"bread and butter! Aren't you cursing it now?" Bad as I believed her to +be I couldn't but be sorry for her, for I've been in that position +myself. Take it from me, licking the hand that feeds you is a job that +comes hard to the worst of us. + +She pressed out the letters, smoothed away the creases slow and careful +and came back to the balcony. Just before she disappeared under it she +stopped and lifted her face, the eyes closed, the teeth pressed on her +under lip. It quivered like a child's on the brink of tears, but she +wasn't crying--fighting, I'd say, against something deeper than tears. I +couldn't bear to look at it and shut my own eyes; when I opened them she +was gone. + +You didn't need to tell me any more after that. She was in love with +Ferguson, not Price; she was in love and straining every nerve to hide +it; she was in love so she was jealous of Mrs. Price--and I'd bet a hat +she was the kind who could love fierce and hard. + +I had to get this into the office and the next day asked for time off +from Mrs. Janney and went in. I found them different to what they had +been on my first visit, taking it serious like they were warming to it. +I'd hardly sat down before I heard the reason. O'Malley had been busy +and turned up enough evidence to make them sure that Chapman Price and +Miss Maitland were in deep in some sort of plot or conspiracy. + +O'Malley's investigation of Price's movements on the night of July the +seventh had revealed these facts: Price had taken his car from Sommers' +garage at Cedar Brook at eight-thirty, not returning till five minutes +before two. To one of the garage men he had said that the night being so +fine he had gone for a long run over the island. No trace of his +whereabouts during these hours had been found until O'Malley dropped on +a policeman at the end of the Queensborough Bridge. This man said Price +had crossed over to the city between nine-thirty and ten. He was +positive of his identification, as early in June he had stopped the +young man for exceeding the speed limit on the bridge, taken his name +and address and had a heated altercation with him. From that time to his +return to Cedar Brook Price had dropped out of sight. He had not been in +the lodgings he kept in town or in any of the garages he patronized. +Whatever his business had been in the city he had had plenty of time to +return to Grasslands and participate in the theft of the jewels. + +A continued watch of the house at 76 Gayle Street had shown that both +Miss Maitland and Price had been there on the Thursday previous and +Price on Sunday afternoon. Each had entered with noiseless haste and +each had used a latchkey. O'Malley in a search for a room had +interviewed the janitor, a grouchy old chap living in the basement; and +got a line on all the tenants, none of whom answered to the description +of Price or Miss Maitland. Of their visits to the house the man was +evidently ignorant, but he supplied some information which showed how +they could come and go without his cognizance. + +On July the eighth a lady, giving no name, had taken the right hand +front room on the top floor for a friend, Miss Agnes Brown, an art +student coming from the west but not yet arrived in the city. The lady +paid a month's rent in advance, took the key, and said when Miss Brown +arrived, the janitor would be informed, but that she might be delayed +through illness in her family. This lady, as described by the janitor, +was beyond a doubt Esther Maitland. + +O'Malley was positive that the man honestly believed the room unused and +awaiting its occupant. He had seen no signs of habitation, heard no +sound from behind its closed door. Cooking was permitted in the house +and it was part of his business to sweep down the halls every morning +and empty the pails containing the food refuse which were placed outside +the doors. He had seen no pail, no milk bottles, and never at night, +when he went up to light the hall gas, had there been a gleam from the +transom of Miss Brown's apartment. + +The room had been engaged by Esther Maitland the day after the robbery, +had been secured for a tenant who had not materialized. She had taken +the key herself and had visited the place, as Chapman Price had done. +Both had made their exits and entrances so carefully that the janitor +had no idea any one had ever been inside the door since the day it was +rented. + +After I'd heard all this I opened up with what I'd collected. The Chief +didn't say much, which is his way when you come in with a new "twist," +but Mr. George wouldn't have it, got quite peevish and said my +imagination had run away with me. + +"Do you think a girl in love with another man would have embroiled +herself with Price the way she has?" he snapped out. + +"I don't know, Mr. George. I'm not ready to say yet what she's done or +hasn't done. No one can deny that things are dead against her. All I'm +sure of now is that she is in love with Mr. Ferguson and, that being the +case, I don't think she's the kind, guilty or innocent, who'd take up +with another man." + +"But you can't base a conviction on a moment's pantomime such as you +overlooked. The girl was probably angry at Mrs. Price's manner. It can +be a deuced disagreeable manner; I've seen it." + +"She didn't act like that--it wasn't only anger--it was all sorts of +feelings." + +He couldn't see it any way but his own and hammered at me. + +"But the whole structure's built on the assumption of an affair between +her and Price. Do you think she'd steal for him, lie for him, hire a +room to meet him in, unless she was so crazy about him she was clay in +his hands?" + +"Mr. George," I said, dropping back in my chair sort of helpless but +still as obstinate as a government mule, "every word you say sounds like +sense and I'm not saying it isn't. But while I'm not passing any +criticisms on you, in this kind of question, I'd back my own judgment +against any man's that ever lived since Adam tried to throw the blame on +Eve." + +The Chief laughed like he was amused at the scrapping of two kids. + +"That's right, Molly," he says, "don't let him brow-beat you, stick to +your own opinion." + +"Well, what do _you_ think?" Mr. George turned to him all red and +ruffled up. "Isn't she building up theories on the flimsiest kind of +foundation?" + +The Chief wouldn't give him any satisfaction. + +"I'll take a leaf out of her book," he said, "not pass any criticisms. +And I think we're going on too fast. I expect to have Chapman here +himself in a day or two and ask some questions about that long ride on +the night of July the seventh. After that we'll be on a firmer +footing--or we ought to be. Meantime, Molly, you go back to Grasslands. +Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut and if anything turns up let me +know." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV--A CHAPTER ABOUT BAD TEMPERS + + +Things were not going Mr. Larkin's way. What had begun with such bright +promise was declining to a twilight uncertainty. The morning after his +ignominious failure with Willitts he had a letter from Suzanne, +forwarded from his New York office, telling him that she would be in +town on the following Monday and would like to see him. The letter +disturbed him greatly. It was not alone that he had nothing to report; +it was that the tone of the missive was irritated and impatient. It was +the angrily imperious summons of a lady who is disappointed in her +hireling. + +He packed up his things and left Cedar Brook--the collapse of his +endeavor there was complete--and at the hour appointed found Suzanne +waiting in the shaded reception room. Her words and manner showed him +how disagreeable a fine lady can be; they gave him a cold premonition +that his fat salary would end unless something distinct and definite was +soon forthcoming. In fact she hinted it; his assurances that interesting +developments were pending, that this sort of work was necessarily slow, +kindled no responsive enthusiasm in the crossly accusing eye she +fastened on him. His manner became almost pleading; he was on the edge +of discoveries, unquestionably he would have something to tell her by +the end of the week. At that she hung dubious, the angry eye less +disconcerting, and said she would be in town on Friday as she was going +to take her little girl to the oculist. + +Mr. Larkin hailed the announcement with a sleuth-like eagerness, but, as +if anxious to quench any little flicker of his spirit, she added +blightingly that she didn't think it would be possible to see him as the +child would be with her. He grappled with the difficulty, displaying +both patience and resourcefulness, for Mrs. Price, in a bad temper, had +a talent for creating obstacles. + +Why, he suggested, couldn't the little girl go to the oculist with her +nurse or companion and Mrs. Price be left, so to speak, free to roam? +Mrs. Price's answer snapped with an angry click--that was of course what +she would do--she always did. _But_, Mr. Larkin did not suppose she took +the exhausting trip from Berkeley for nothing, did he? She had matters +to attend to herself, shops to go to, people to see; when they came into +town they were swamped, simply _swamped_, by what they had to do. She +depicted with a lively irritation their harried progress, the party +split into halves, one in a hired vehicle, one in the family motor, +passing through the marts of trade in a stampede of breathless shopping. +She rubbed it in, seemed to be intimating that he was attempting to +frustrate an overtaxed and weary woman in the accomplishment of gigantic +tasks. + +Mr. Larkin met the difficulties and kept his patience. It took a good +deal to finally reach a settlement which was obvious from the start. The +child and her companion could go on their errands and Suzanne could go +on hers, but be back before them. He could meet her at the house at any +hour she named and would leave before the return of the other half of +the party. He forced her to an admission that the plan was feasible, +though she gave it grudgingly, her manner still suggesting that if he +had conducted himself as a detective worthy of his hire she would not +have been put to so much trouble. She arranged to be at the house at +twelve which she calculated might give her half an hour alone with him. +Should there be any change of plans she would let him know, and she +_hoped_, with an accentuated glance, he would have something +satisfactory to tell her. + +His good temper unshaken, Mr. Larkin assured her he would and rose to +go. On the doorstep he mopped his forehead though the day was not warm, +also he swore softly as he descended the steps. + +A day or two after this, Chapman Price went to the Whitney office. He +had received a communication from them asking for an interview, the +ostensible subject of debate being Suzanne's divorce. The suit would be +conducted at Reno where Mrs. Price would go in the autumn, but the +Whitneys, as the Janney lawyers, wanted to talk the matter over with Mr. +Price for the arranging of various financial details. + +These were quickly opened up for his attention by Wilbur Whitney, who, +with George, saw the young man in his private office. The ground of +divorce--non-support--was touched on with a tactful lightness. Mrs. +Price would of course ask for no alimony and so forth and so on. From +that the elder Whitney passed to the subject of the child; it was the +desire of its mother and grandparents that Chapman should relinquish all +claim on it. The young man listened, gloomy and scowling, now and then +muttering in angry repudiation. But the diplomatic arguments of the +lawyer bore down his opposition; he had to give in. The child ought to +remain with its mother, the natural guardian of its tender years; left +entirely to the Janneys it would be the eventual heiress of their great +wealth, but if Chapman antagonized them by a fight for its possession +its prospects might suffer. It was a persuasive appeal, made to +Chapman's parental affections, the welfare of his daughter before his +own. It brought him to a sullen consent, and Wilbur Whitney, with a +sound of approval, pushed back his chair, elated as by a good work done. + +Price rose, his face flushed and frowning. That he was resentful was +plain to be seen, but he had himself in hand, inquiring with a sardonic +politeness if that was all they wanted of him. The elder Whitney with a +hospitable gesture toward the empty chair, said no, there were some +questions he'd like to ask, nothing of any especial moment and on an +entirely different matter. + +"Mrs. Janney," he explained, "has suggested that we make a separate, +private investigation of the robbery. She's lost faith in Kissam, who +hasn't done anything but draw his pay envelope and wants us to see what +we can do. So we've been clearing up a lot of dead wood, looking into +the movements of the people in the house and the neighborhood that +night." + +Price, who had remained standing, turned his eyes on the speaker in a +gaze that had a quality of sudden fixed attention. + +"Oh," he said, in a tone containing a note of hostile comprehension, "so +_you're_ in it, are you?" + +"Yes; we're in it--only a little way so far. We've been rounding up +every one that has, or has had, any dealings with the family and we've +taken you in in the sweep." + +"_Me?_" Price's voice showed an intense surprise. "What have I got to do +with it?" + +"Nothing, my dear boy, except that you _were_ a member of the household, +and as I said, we're clearing up every one in sight. It's only a +formality, a tagging and disposing of all unnecessary elements. You went +for a motor ride that night--a long ride. You wouldn't mind telling us +where, would you? It's just for the purpose of eliminating you along +with the rest of the dead wood." + +The young man's gaze dropped from Whitney's face to his own hat lying on +the table. He looked at it with an absent stare. + +"A motor ride?" he murmured. + +"Yes, from eight-thirty till nearly two." + +"Um," Price appeared to be considering. "Let me see--what was the date, +I don't remember?" + +George assisted his memory: + +"July the seventh--a moonlight night." + +"Ah," he had it now, nodding his head several times in restored +recollection. "Of course, I remember perfectly. There was a heavy rain +early in the evening and then a full moon." He turned to the elder man. +"I'm rather fond of ranging about at night, and couldn't quite place +what especial ride you referred to. I took a long spin up the Island." + +"Up?" said Whitney, "not being a Long Islander I don't know your +directions. Would 'up' mean toward the city?" + +"No, the other way, out along the Sound roads and on toward Peconic." + +"Kept to the country, eh? Too fine a night to waste in town." + +Price's face darkened. George watching him noticed a slight dilation of +his nostrils, a slight squaring of the line of his jaw. His answer came +in a tone hard and combative: + +"Exactly. I get enough of town in the day. I rode, as I told you, out to +the east, a long way--I can't give you the exact route if that's what +you want." He suddenly leaned forward and snatched his hat from the +table. Holding it against his side he made an ironical bow to his +questioner said, "Does _that_ eliminate me as a suspect?" + +Whitney laughed, a sound of lazy good humor rich with the tolerance of a +vast experience: + +"My dear Chapman, why use such sensational terms? Suspect is a word we +haven't reached yet. Take this as it's meant--a form, merely a form." + +"The form might have included a questioning of me before you took the +trouble to look up what I did. Evidently my word wasn't thought +sufficient." + +His glance, darkly threatening, moved from one man to the other. George +started to protest, but he cut in, his words directed at old Whitney: + +"It's all I have to offer you now. It's what I say against what you've +been told to believe. I can prove no alibi, for I was with no one, saw +no one, started alone and stayed alone. That's all you'll get out of me, +and you can take it or leave it as you d----n please." + +He turned and walked toward the door, the elder Whitney's conciliatory +phrases delivered to his back. The door knob in his hand he wheeled +round, the anger he had been struggling to subdue fierce in his face: + +"Don't think for a moment you've fooled me. I was ignorant when I came +in here, but I'm on to the whole dirty business now. I see through this +pussy-footing round the divorce. It's the Janneys--the blow in the back +I might have known was coming. They've got my child, set you on to +wheedle her out of me. But that wasn't enough--they're going to try and +finish the good work--put me out of business so there's no more trouble +coming from me. Brand me as a thief--that's their game, is it? +Well--they've gone too far. I've held my hand up to this but now I'll +let loose. They'll see! By God, they'll see that I can hit back blow for +blow." + + + + +CHAPTER XV--WHAT HAPPENED ON FRIDAY + + +The Friday morning when Suzanne was to go to town broke auspiciously +bright and cloudless. As Annie was not the proper person to take Bbita +to the oculist, and as Suzanne would be too busy to go herself, Miss +Maitland had been impressed into the service. It had been decided two +days earlier, and though she had received some instructions at the time, +on the drive in, Mrs. Price went over her plans with a meticulous +thoroughness. They would go first to the Fifth Avenue house, pick up +there some clothes of Bbita's needing alteration, and then separate. +Esther would take a cab from the rank on the side street, and go with +Bbita to the oculist, to the dressmaker with the clothes, and execute +several minor commissions in shops along the Avenue. Bbita begged for a +box of caramels from Justin's, the French confectioner, a request which +was graciously acceded to by her mother, Miss Maitland jotting it down +on her list. Mrs. Price would take the motor and go about her own +affairs, which would occupy probably an hour. She would then return to +the house and wait for them--for she would have finished before they +did--and afterward they would go out to lunch somewhere. She said she +thought it would be fully an hour and a half before they got back and +Miss Maitland, eyeing the long list, said it might be even longer. + +Aggie McGee had the clothes tied up in a box and Suzanne and Bbita +stood on the steps waiting while Miss Maitland went for the cab. The +rank was just round the corner and in a few minutes she came back with a +taxi running along the curb behind her. + +"Quite a piece of luck to find one," she said, as she took the box. +"They're not always there in the dead season." + +Bbita jumped in, settling herself with joyful prancings and waving a +little white-gloved hand. Esther followed, snapped the door shut, and +they glided away. Suzanne watched them go, then stepped into the big +motor and was swept off in the opposite direction. + +She came back before the hour was up. She had hurried as she wanted to +have done with Larkin before they returned. It would be extremely +uncomfortable if they found her in confab with the detective; it would +necessitate boring explanations and the inventing of lies. + +She sat down in the reception room close to the window, pulled up the +blind and waited. Drawn back from the eyes of passers-by she could +command the sidewalk and the street for some distance and if, by any +evil chance, Larkin should be late, she could see him coming and tell +Aggie McGee to say she was not there. + +Up to now Larkin had been punctual to the dot, but on this, the one +occasion when punctuality was vital, he was not on time. Twelve passed, +then the quarter, and the sun-swept length of the great avenue gave up +no masculine figure that bore any resemblance to him. She was growing +nervous, wondering what she had better do, when he hove in sight walking +quickly toward the house. A glance at her wrist watch told her it was +twenty minutes past twelve--Miss Maitland and Bbita might not be back +for another half hour yet. She would chance it, for she was extremely +anxious to see him, and anyway, if they should come in before he left, +she could tell him to go into the drawing room and slip out after they +had gone. Relieved by the decision she rose and was turning toward the +mirror, when she caught sight of a taxi scudding up the street with +Esther Maitland's face in the window. + +A word not generally used by ladies escaped Suzanne. There was nothing +for it but to send him away. She ran into the hall and pressed the bell, +listening in a fever for Aggie McGee's step on the kitchen stairs. +Simultaneously with its first heavy thud came the peal of the front door +bell. Suzanne, who had noticed that the taxi was moving fast and would +make the steps before Larkin, called down on Aggie McGee's ascending +head: + +"That's Miss Maitland. A gentleman I expected is just behind her. I +can't see him now, I haven't time. Tell him I've been here and gone." + +She went back into the reception room and stood listening. She heard the +door opening, Esther's step in the hall; it was all right, the detective +would get his cong without being seen by any one but Aggie McGee. She +drew a breath of relief and turned smiling to the girl in the doorway. +Miss Maitland did not give back the smile; she sent a searching look +over the room and said in a low, breathless voice as if she had been +running: + +"Is Bbita here?" + +There was a moment of silence. Through it the heavy tread of Aggie McGee +passing along the hall sounded unnaturally loud. As it went clump, +clump, down the kitchen stairs Suzanne was aware of Miss Maitland's +face, startlingly strange, ashen-colored. At first it was all she took +in. + +"Bbita--here?" she stammered. "How could she be? She's with you." + +Miss Maitland made a step into the room, her hands went up clenched to +her chest, her voice came again through the broken gasps of a runner: + +"No--she isn't. I thought I'd find her with you--I thought she'd come +back. Oh, Mrs. Price--" she stopped, her eyes, telling a message of +disaster, fixed on the other. + +Suzanne's answer came from opened lips, dropped apart in a sudden +horror: + +"What do you mean? Why should she be here?" + +"Mrs. Price, something's happened!" + +Suzanne screamed out: + +"Where is she?" + +"I don't know--but--but--I haven't got her--she's gone. Mrs. Price--" + +Suzanne screamed again, putting her hands against the sides of her head, +her face, between them, a livid mask. + +"Gone--gone where? Is she dead?" + +The girl shook her head, swallowing on a throat dried to a leathern +stiffness: + +"No--no--nothing like that. But--the taxi--it went, disappeared while I +was in Justin's. I was in there buying the candy and when I came out it +was gone. I looked everywhere; I couldn't believe it; I thought she'd +come back here--run away from me for a joke." + +Suzanne, holding the sides of her head, stared like a mad woman, then +gave a piercing cry, thin and high, a wild, dolorous sound. Only the +solidity of the house prevented it from penetrating to the lower regions +where Aggie McGee and her aunt were comfortably lunching. + +"Listen, Mrs. Price." Esther took her hands and drew them down. "The +driver may have made a mistake, taken her somewhere else--he couldn't--" + +Suzanne shrieked in sudden frenzy: + +"She's been stolen--my baby's been stolen!" + +For a second they looked at one another, each pallid face confessing its +conviction of the grisly thought. Esther tried to speak, the sentences +dropping disconnected: + +"If it's that then--then--it's some one who knows you're rich--some +one--they'll want money. They'll give her up for money--Oh, Mrs. Price, +I looked--I hunted--" + +Suzanne's voice came in a suddenly strangled whisper: + +"It's you--It's your fault! You've let them steal my baby. You've done +it! You'll be put in jail." + +With the words issuing from her mouth she staggered and crumpled into a +limpness of fiberless flesh and trailing garments. Esther put an arm +about her and drew her to the sofa. Here she collapsed amid the +cushions, her eyes open, moans coming from her shaking lips. Esther +knelt beside her: + +"Mrs. Price, it's horrible, but try to keep up, don't break down this +way. No one would dare to do anything to her. If she's been stolen it's +to the interest of the person who did it to keep her safe. We'll find +her in a day or two. Your mother, her position, her power--she'll do +something, she'll get her back." + +Suzanne rolling her head on the cushion, groaned: + +"Oh, my baby! Oh, Bbita!" Then burst into wild tears and disjointed +sentences. She was almost unintelligible, cries to heaven, wails for her +child, accusations of the woman at her feet broke from her in a torrent. +Once she struck at the girl with a feeble fist. + +There was no help to be got from her and Esther rose. She spoke more to +herself than the anguished creature on the sofa: + +"We can't waste time this way. I'll call up Grasslands and ask what to +do." + +The telephone was in the hall and, as she waited for the connection, she +could hear the sounds of the mother's misery beating on the house's rich +silence. Then Dixon's voice brought her faculties into quick order. She +wanted to speak to Mrs. Janney herself, at once, it was important. There +followed what seemed an endless wait, and then Mrs. Janney. When she had +mastered it, her voice came, sharp and incisive: + +"Hold the wire, I have to speak to Mr. Janney." + +Another wait, through which, faint as the shadows of sound, Esther could +hear the tiny echo of voices, then the jar of an approaching step and a +man answered: + +"Hello, Miss Maitland, this is Ferguson. I've orders from Mrs. +Janney--Go straight down to the Whitney office, tell them what's +happened and put the thing in their hands. Say nothing to anybody else. +Mr. and Mrs. Janney are starting to go in. They'll be in town as quickly +as they can get there and will meet you at the office. Got that +straight? All right. Good-by." + +She cogitated a moment, then called up the Whitney office getting +George. She gave him a brief outline of what had occurred and told him +she would be there with Mrs. Price within a half hour. + +Back in the reception room she tried to arouse Suzanne, but the +distracted woman did not seem to have sense left to take in anything. At +the sound of Esther's voice her sobs and wails rose hysterical, and the +girl, finding it impossible to make her understand, set about preparing +her for the drive. Any word of hers appeared to make Suzanne's state +worse, so silently, as if she were dressing a manikin, she pinned the +hat to the disordered blonde hair, draped a motor veil over it, composed +the rumpled skirts, gathered up her purse and gloves, and finally, an +arm crooked round one of Suzanne's, got her out to the motor. + +On the long drive downtown almost nothing was said. The roar of the +surrounding traffic drowned the sounds of weeping that now and then rose +from the veiled figure, which Esther held firm and upright by the +pressure of her shoulder. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI--MOLLY'S STORY + + +That Friday--gee, shall I ever forget it!--opening so quiet and natural +and suddenly bang, in the middle of it, the sort of thing you read in +the yellow press. + +It was a holiday for me and I was sitting in the upper hall alcove +making a blouse and handy to the extension 'phone. Now and then it would +ring and I'd pull it over with a weary sigh and hear a female voice full +of cultivation and airs ask if Mrs. Janney'd take a hand at bridge, or a +male one want to know what Mr. Janney thought about eighteen holes at +golf. + +It was on for one when it rang again and with a smothered groan--for I +was putting on the collar--I jerked it over. _Believe me_, I forgot that +blouse! Stiff, like I was turned to stone, I sat there listening, +hearing them come, one after another, getting every word of it. When +they were through I got up, feeling sort of gone in the middle, and lit +out for the stairs. I couldn't have kept away--Bbita disappeared! +"Kidnapped!" I said to myself as I ran along the hall. "Kidnapped! +that's what it is--it's only poor children that get lost." + +On the stairs I met Mrs. Janney coming up on the run. It wasn't the +speed that made her breath short; but she was on the job, the grand old +Roman, with her mouth as straight as the slit in a post box and her face +as hard as if it was cut out of granite. + +"Go down there," she said, giving a jerk of her head toward the hall +below. "Sit there and wait. Something's happened and you may be useful." + +I went on down and took a seat. Outside on the balcony I could see Mr. +Janney, wandering about with a hunted look. From the telephone closet +came Ferguson's voice telling his chauffeur to bring his car to +Grasslands, now, this minute, and enough gasoline for a long run. Then +he came out, hooked an armful of coats off the hall rack, and ran past +me on to the balcony. He gave the coats to Mr. Janney, who stood holding +them, looking after Ferguson wherever he went and quavering questions at +him. I don't think Ferguson answered them, but he pulled one of the +coats out of the old man's arms and put him into it, quick and +efficient. When the motor came up he tried to make Mr. Janney get in, +but he wouldn't, standing there, helpless and pitiful, and calling out +for Mrs. Janney. + +"I'm here, Sam," came her voice from the stairs and she scudded by where +I was sitting, tying her motor veil over her hat. She seemed to have +forgotten me and I followed her out on to the balcony, not knowing what +she wanted me to do. As I stood there Ferguson's big car came shooting +up the drive. + +She climbed quickly into her own motor, waiting at the bottom of the +steps, Mr. Janney scrambled in after her and Ferguson threw a rug over +them. They were just starting when she looked up and saw me. + +"Oh," she cried, leaning across the old man, "we'll want you--you must +come." + +Mr. Janney stared bewildered at her and said: + +"Why--why should _she_ come?" + +"Keep quiet, Sam," then over her shoulder to Ferguson as the car began +to move, "Bring Mrs. Babbitts, Dick. Take her with you." + +The car glided off, Mr. Janney's voice floating back: + +"But why, why--why do you want _her_?" + +Ferguson's motor swung round the oval and came to a halt. The chauffeur +jumped out, and, told he wasn't wanted, disappeared. The young man +turned to me, not a smile out of him now. + +"Come on, get in," he said and then giving a nod at one of the coats +lying over a chair, "and bring that with you--it may blow up cold and +it's a long run." + +I did as I was told--there was something about him that made you do what +he said--and jumped in. He came on my heels, snapped the door and we +started. Before we got to the gates he speeded the machine up and in a +few minutes we were close on the Janney motor which was flying along the +woody road at a pace that would have strained the heart of a bicycle +cop. Their dust came over us in a cloud, and Mr. Ferguson slowed down, +and, his hand resting easy on the wheel, said: + +"What does Mrs. Janney want you for?" + +I'd hoped he hadn't noticed that, but in case he had I'd an answer +ready. + +"Maybe she thought I might have noticed if any one was hanging round +lately--hanging round to size up the habits of the family and Bbita's +movements." + +"Oh," he said, looking at me very pointed, "then you know what's +happened to Bbita." + +I hadn't any answer ready for _that_. I had to get hold of something +quick and as you will do when you're taken off your guard, I got hold of +a lie: + +"I met Mrs. Janney on the stairs and she told me." + +"That's funny," he says, sort of thoughtful. "Before she went she told +both Mr. Janney and myself that no one in the house must hear a word of +it." + +I began to get red, and for a moment, stared at my feet pressed side by +side on the wood in front of me. It didn't make it any pleasanter to +know that Ferguson was looking at me, intent and narrow, out of the tail +of his eye. + +"I guess she was so excited she forgot and just blabbed it out." + +It was the best I could do, but it was poor stuff. If you knew Mrs. +Janney you'd see why. + +"Um," said Ferguson, and took a look ahead at the cloud of dust that hid +the other car. Then he comes out with another: + +"I wonder if that was the reason she called you Mrs. Babbitts?" + +I took a good breath from the bottom of my lungs and said: + +"I shouldn't be surprised. Having your grandchild lost is enough to mix +up any woman." + +He didn't answer and we ran on some way, out of the woods on to a long +straight stretch of road. The motor in front was going at a tremendous +clip, Mrs. Janney's veil lashing out like a wild hand beckoning us on. + +"Look here," says Ferguson, soft and gentle right into my ear, "what +_are_ you, anyway?" + +"Me?" I bounced round and gave him a baby stare. "I'm a governess. What +do you think I am?" + +"You may be a good governess but you're a poor liar. I was in the +telephone closet and heard what Mrs. Janney said to you on the stairs. +And I don't think you're a governess at all--you're a detective." + +I thought a minute but what was the use, he had me. So I raised up my +chin and met him, eye for eye: + +"All right, I am. What of it?" + +"Oh, lots of it. I've had my suspicions for some time. You tapped that +'phone message from New York?" + +"I did--it's my job. I have to do it." + +"Don't apologize--it wastes time and we haven't any to lose. Now just +tell me Miss Rogers, or Mrs. Babbitts, what have you found out about the +robbery; where were you getting to before this hideous mess to-day?" + +"Well, you've got your nerve with you!" I snorted. + +"I have, right here handy. I'm a friend of the Janneys, I'm a--" he +stopped. His nerve was handy all right but he hadn't enough to tell me +it was because of Esther Maitland he was so keen. + +"Go on," I said sarcastic. "I'm interested to hear what _you_ are now +you've found out what I am." + +"I'm almost a member of the household. I can help. I want to help--and I +want to know." + +"Maybe you do," I said. "We often want things in this world that we +can't get. Don't think you have the monopoly of that complaint." + +The motor rose over the crest of a hill, flashed by a farm and slid down +an incline. Before us stretched a white line of road, with the forward +car racing along it in a blur of dust. + +"You mean you won't tell me?" + +"You got me." + +We suddenly began to slow up, the car swung off sideways from the +roadbed, ran toward the bushes on the right, and came to a halt. +Ferguson dropped against the back of the seat, stretched his legs and +said: + +"This is a nice shady place to stop in." + +"Stop!" I cried. "Forget it! What do you want to stop for?" + +"I don't--it's you. I'm going to rest here quietly while you tell me." + +"Young man," I said, fixing him with a cold eye, "this is no time to be +funny." + +"I entirely agree with you. Therefore as we're of the same mind it +behooves you to get busy and give me the information I want." + +The coolness of him would have riled a hen. It did me; I gave a stamp on +the footboard and angrily said: + +"Start up this machine. I was ordered to go to New York and I've got to +get there." + +"You will as soon as you tell me. But I won't move until you do. We'll +stay here all day, all night if necessary. There's just one thing +certain: we'll stay till I hear what I want to know." + +I was beaten and it made me mad straight through. I was helpless too and +that made me madder. If I'd had the least notion of how you started the +dinged machine I was angry enough to have tried to do it, though it +wouldn't have been any use with Ferguson there to frustrate me. + +"You're losing time," said he. "There'll be trouble if you don't show +up." + +"Do you think it's a high class thing," I snapped out, "to put a girl in +a position like this?" + +"Don't _you_ think you can trust me?" he answered very quiet. + +I looked at him, a long, slow survey, and as I did it my anger simmered +down. It's part of my business to read faces and what I saw in his made +me say sort of reluctant: + +"Well, maybe I can." + +He leaned forward and put his hand on mine. + +"Miss Rogers, if you'll stand in with me, trust me and let me help, you +won't make any mistake. For I'll stand in with you, not now, not just +for this thing, but for always. You've my word on it and I don't break +my word." + +That ended it--not what he said but the look of him while he said it. +Almost without knowing it my hand turned under his and they clasped. +Solemn as a pair of images we shook. Any one passing would have thought +we were crazy, backed into the brushwood, side by side on the front +seat, shaking hands as if we'd just been introduced. + +I told him the whole story and he never said a word. When I came to Miss +Maitland's part in it, I couldn't but look at him. He drew his eyebrows +down in a frown and fiddled with his fingers on the wheel. Even when I +told him what they thought about her and Chapman Price he didn't made a +sound, but he straightened up, and drew a deep breath like he wanted +more air in his lungs. I got it some way then--I can't exactly say +how--that he was a good deal more of a person than I'd guessed--a lot +more iron in his make-up than I'd thought when I liked his laugh and his +boyish, jolly ways. + +When I finished he said, easy and cool: + +"Thank you--that gives me just what I wanted. You won't regret having +told me. As for Whitney & Whitney, they won't say anything. They're my +lawyers--known 'em all my life. I'll take care of that." + +He took hold of the wheel and the car backed out into the road. + +"Can we ever catch them up?" I asked. + +"I guess so--this car can make seventy-five miles an hour. Are you game +for a race?" + +"I'm game for anything that'll land me where I belong." + +"All right--hold on to your hat." + +I guess the Lord protects those who are bent on His own business. Anyway +I don't know why else we weren't killed. We ate up that road like a dago +eating macaroni; it ran under the car like a white ribbon fastened to a +spindle somewhere behind us. The woods were two green streaks on either +side, and now and then a chuck hole would send me bouncing, landing +anywhere--on the floor once. + +"Hold on to something," he shouted at me. "I don't want to lose you." + +And I shouted back: + +"You couldn't. I'm wished on to this motor till death do us part or it +lands me somewhere alive." + +Through the villages we had to slow up. Gliding dignified along the +tree-shaded streets put me into a fever and I guess it wore on him for +more than once I heard him muttering to himself, and believe me, he +wasn't saying his prayers. I glimpsed sideways at him, and saw his +tanned face, with the hair loose and tousled by the wind, looking +changed, hardened and older, all the gay expression gone. The news he'd +forced out of me had hit him a body blow, struck him in the heart. And I +was sorry, awfully sorry. You can hurt a mean person or a criminal and +not care, but it's no lady's job to have to wound a decent man. That's +why I'd never make a good professional--the people get as big as the +case to me, and if you're the real thing it's only the case that counts. + +We were almost in Long Island City when we caught up with the Janneys, +Mrs. Janney's veil still waving like a hand beckoning us to hurry. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII--MISS MAITLAND IN A NEW LIGHT + + +At the entrance of the great building which housed the Whitney office +the two motors came to a halt. Ferguson went in with the others saying +he would see if he could be of any use, and if he was not wanted would +return to the street level and wait. In the elevator Mr. Janney, who had +been informed en route of Molly's real status, eyed her morosely, but +when the car stopped forgot everything but the urgencies of the moment, +and crowded out, tremulous and stumbling, on his wife's heels. + +They were met by Wilbur Whitney who in a large efficient way, +distributed them:--Ferguson was sent back to the street to wait, Molly +waved to a chair in the hall, and the old people conducted up the +passage to his private office. In a room opening from it Suzanne lay +stretched on a sofa, restoratives and stimulants at hand, and a girl +stenographer to fan her. She had revolted against the presence of +Esther, who had been removed from her sight and shut in the sanctum of a +junior partner. + +Mrs. Janney went in to see her and the old man fell upon Whitney. It was +Price's doing--they were certain of it, his wife had said so at once. He +was bound to get back at them some way, he'd said he would--he'd left +Grasslands swearing vengeance, and had been only waiting his +opportunity. The lawyer nodded in understanding agreement and, Mrs. +Janney returning, they drew up to the table and conferred in low voices. + +What Whitney said confirmed the Janneys' belief. He told of his +interview with Price; the man's anger and threats. Nevertheless he was +of the opinion that the plot to kidnap the child had not been undertaken +in sudden passion, but had probably been for some time germinating in +Chapman's mind. The news of Bbita's loss, telephoned to the office by +Miss Maitland, while it had shocked, had not altogether surprised him, +though he had hardly thought the young man's desire to get square would +have carried him to such lengths. Immediately after Esther's +communication, George had telephoned to Price's office receiving the +answer that he was not there but could probably be found at the +Hartleys' at Cedar Brook. From the Hartleys they had learned that Mr. +Price was in town, and had sent word that morning he would not come out +this week-end. + +There were other circumstances which the lawyer said pointed to Price. +These they could hear from Mrs. Babbitts who had made some important +discoveries. He rose to send for her, but Mrs. Janney stayed him with a +gesture--before they went into that she would like to see Miss Maitland +and hear from her exactly what had occurred. Mr. Whitney, suavely +agreeable, sent a summons for Esther, then softly closed the door into +the room where Suzanne lay. + +"Mrs. Price is very bitter against her," he said in explanation. + +Mrs. Janney, too wrought up for polite hypocrisies, said brusquely: + +"Oh, that's exactly like Suzanne. She has no balance at all. Of course +we can't blame Miss Maitland--it's not her fault." + +Mr. Whitney dropped back into his revolving desk chair and swung it +toward her with a lurch of his body: + +"She tells a very clear story--extremely clear. I'll let you get your +own impression of it and then we'll have a talk with Mrs. Babbitts and +you can see--" + +A knock on the door interrupted him; in answer to his "Come in," Esther +entered. She halted a moment on the threshold, her eyes touching the +faces of her employers questioningly, as if she was not sure of her +reception. But Mrs. Janney's quick, "Oh, Miss Maitland, I want to see +you," brought her across the sill. Though she looked harassed and +distressed, her manner showed a restrained composure. She took a chair +facing them, meeting their glances with a steady directness. Mrs. +Janney's demand for information was promptly answered; indeed her +narrative was so devoid of unnecessary detail, so confined to +essentials, that it suggested something gone over and put in readiness +for the telling. + +She had taken Bbita to the dressmaker and the oculist, the child +accompanying her into both places. At the third stop, Justin's, she had +persuaded Bbita to stay in the taxi. She had left it at the curb and +had not been more than ten minutes in the store. When she came out it +was gone. She had spent some time looking for it, searched up and down +the street, and, though she was frightened, she could not believe +anything had happened. Her idea had been that Bbita, tired of waiting +or wanting to play a joke on her, had prevailed on the driver to return +to the Fifth Avenue house. She had hailed a cab and gone back there and +it was not till she saw Mrs. Price that she realized the real extent of +the calamity. Mrs. Price had been utterly overwhelmed, and, not knowing +what else to do, she had called up Grasslands for instructions. + +Mr. Janney, who had been twisting and turning on his chair, burst out +with: + +"The man--the driver--did you notice him?" + +She lifted her hands and dropped them in her lap. + +"Oh, Mr. Janney, _of course_ I didn't. Does any one _ever_ look at those +men? He never got off his seat, opened the door by stretching his arm +round from the front. I have a sort of vague memory of his face when I +called him off the stand, and I think--but I can't be sure--that he wore +goggles." + +"It's needless to ask if you remember the number," Mrs. Janney said. + +The girl answered with a hopeless shake of the head. + +"You say you ran about looking for the taxi"--it was Mr. Janney +again--"Why did you waste that time?" + +"Mr. Janney," she leaned toward him insistent, but with patience for his +afflicted state, "I thought it had gone somewhere farther along. You +know how they won't let the vehicles stand in Fifth Avenue. I supposed +it was down the block or round the corner on a side street. I asked the +doorman but he hadn't noticed. I looked in every direction and even when +I finally gave up and went after her I hadn't an idea that she'd been +_stolen_." + +"Time lost--all that time lost!" wailed the old man and began to cry. + +"Come, come, Mr. Janney," said Whitney, "don't despond. It's not as bad +as all that, and I'm pretty confident we'll have her back all right +before very long." + +Mr. Janney, with his face in his handkerchief, emitted sounds that no +one could understand. His wife silenced him with a peremptory, "Be +quiet, Sam," and returned to Miss Maitland: + +"You say you dissuaded her from going into Justin's. Why did you do +that?" + +For the first time the girl lost her even poise. As she answered her +voice was unsteady: "We were so pressed for time and I knew I could get +through much quicker without her. That's why I did it--begged her to +stay in the taxi and she said she would,"--she stopped, biting on her +under lip, evidently unable to go on. + +There was a moment's silence broken by Mrs. Janney's voice low and grim: + +"The man heard you and knew that was his chance." + +Miss Maitland, her eyes down, the bitten lip showing red against its +fellow, said huskily: + +"You must blame me--you can't help it--but I'd rather have died than had +such a thing happen." + +Mr. Janney began to give forth inarticulate sounds again and his wife +said with a sort of dreary resignation: + +"Oh, I don't blame you, Miss Maitland. Nobody does. Mrs. Price is not +responsible; she doesn't know what she's saying." + +"Of course, of course," came in Whitney's deep, bland voice, "we all +understand Mrs. Price's feelings--quite natural under the circumstances. +And Miss Maitland's too." He rose and pressed a bell near the door. "Now +if you've heard all you want I'll call in George and we'll talk this +over. And Miss Maitland," he turned to her, urbanely kind and courteous, +"could I trouble you to go back to Mr. Quincy's office; just for a +little while? We won't keep you waiting very long this time." + +A very dapper young man had answered the summons and under his escort +Esther withdrew. Whitney went to a third door connecting with his son's +rooms, opened it and said in a low voice: + +"George, go and get Molly. We're ready for her now." + +Coming back, he stood for a moment by the desk, and swept the faces of +his clients with a meaning look: + +"What you're going to hear from Mrs. Babbitts will be something of a +shock. She's unearthed several rather startling facts that in my opinion +bear on this present event and what led up to it. It's a peculiar +situation and involves not only Price but Miss Maitland." + +Mrs. Janney stared: + +"Miss Maitland and Chapman! What sort of a situation?" + +"At this stage I'll simply say mysterious. But I'm afraid, my dear +friend, that your confidence in the young woman has been misplaced. +However, before I go any further I'll let you hear what Mrs. Babbitts +has to say and draw your own conclusions." + +What Mrs. Babbitts had to say came not as one shock but as a series. +Mrs. Janney could not at first believe it; she had to be shown the notes +of the telephone message, and dropped them in her lap, staring from her +husband to Wilbur Whitney in aghast question. Mr. Janney seemed stunned, +shrunk in his clothes like a turtle in its shell. It was not until the +lawyer, alluding to the loss of the jewels, mentioned Miss Maitland's +possible participation either as the actual thief or as an accomplice, +that he displayed a suddenly vitalized interest. His body stretched +forward, and his neck craned up from its collar gave him more than ever +the appearance of a turtle reaching out of its shell, his voice coming +with a stammering urgency: + +"But--but--no one can be sure. We mustn't be too hasty. We can't condemn +the girl without sufficient evidence. Some one else may have been there +and--" + +Mrs. Janney shut him off with an exasperated impatience: + +"Oh, Sam, don't go back over all that. I don't care who took them; I +don't care if I never see them again. It's only the child that matters." +Then to Whitney the inconsequential disposed of, "We must make a move at +once, but we must do it quietly without anything getting into the +papers." + +Whitney nodded: + +"That's my idea." + +"What are you going to do--go directly to him?" + +"No, not yet. Our first step will be made as you suggest, very quietly. +We're going to keep the matter out of the papers and away from the +police. Keep it to ourselves--do it ourselves. And I think--I don't want +to raise any false hopes--but I think we can lay our hands on Bbita +to-night." + +"How--where?" Mr. Janney's head was thrust forward, his blurred eyes +alight. + +"If you don't mind, I'm not going to tell you. I'm going to ask you to +leave it to me and let me see if my surmises are correct. If Chapman has +her where I think he has, I'll give her over to you by ten o'clock. If +I'm mistaken it will only mean a short postponement. He can't keep her +and he knows it." + +"The blackguard!" groaned the old man in helpless wrath. + +Mrs. Janney wasted neither time nor energy in futile passion. She +attacked another side of the situation. + +"What are we to do with Miss Maitland? You can't arrest her." + +"Certainly not. She's a very important person and we must have her under +our eye. You must treat her as if you entirely exonerated her from all +blame--maintain the attitude you took just now when talking with her. If +my immediate plan should fail our best chance of getting Bbita without +publicity and an ugly scandal will be through her. She must have no hint +of what we think, must believe herself unsuspected, and free to come and +go as she pleases." + +"You mean she's to stay on with us?" Mr. Janney's voice was high with +indignant protest. + +"Exactly--she remains the trusted employee with whose painful position +you sympathize. It won't be difficult, for you won't see much of her. +You'll naturally stay here in town till Bbita is found. What I intend +to do with her is to send her back to Grasslands with a competent +jailer--" he paused and pointed where Molly sat, silent and almost +forgotten. + +For a moment the Janneys eyed her, questioning and dubious, then Mrs. +Janney voiced their mutual thought: + +"Is Mrs. Babbitts, alone, a sufficient guard?" + +The lawyer smiled. + +"Quite. Miss Maitland doesn't want to run away. She knows too much for +that. No position could be better for our purpose than to leave +her--apparently unsuspected--alone in that big house. She will be +confident, possibly take chances." He turned on Molly, glowering at her +from under his overhanging brows. "The safest and quickest means of +communication with Grasslands, when the family is in town and the +servants ignorant of the situation, would be the telephone." + +That ended the conference. Mrs. Janney went to get Suzanne and Molly +received her final instructions. She was to return to Grasslands with +Miss Maitland, Ferguson could take them in his motor. She was to sit in +the back seat with the lady and casually drop the information that she +had come to town in answer to a wire from the Whitney office. She might +have seen suspicious characters lurking about the grounds or in the +woods. On no account was she to let her companion guess that Price was +suspected, and any remarks which might place the young woman more +completely at her ease, allay all sense of danger, would be valuable. + +They left the room and went into the entrance hall where Esther, and +presently Mrs. Janney, joined them. Whitney struck the note of a +reassuring friendliness in his manner to the girl, and the old people, +rather reservedly chimed in. She seemed grateful, thanked them, +reiterating her distress. In the elevator, going down, Molly noticed +that she fell into a staring abstraction, starting nervously as the iron +gate swung back at the ground floor. + +Ferguson, waiting on the curb, saw them as they emerged from the +doorway. His eyes leaped at the girl, and, as she crossed the sidewalk, +were riveted on her. Their expression was plain, yearning and passion no +longer disguised. If she saw the look she gave no sign, nodded to him, +and, leaving Molly to explain, climbed into the back seat and sunk in a +corner. Though the afternoon was hot she picked up the cloak lying on +the floor and drew it round her shoulders. + +The drive home was very silent. Molly gave the prescribed reasons for +her presence and heard them answered with the brief comments of +inattention. She also touched on the other matters and found her +companion so unresponsive that she desisted. It was evident that Esther +Maitland wanted to be left to her own thoughts. Huddled in the cloak, +her eyes fixed on the road in front, she sat as silent and enigmatic as +a sphinx. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII--THE HOUSE IN GAYLE STREET + + +The Janney party left the office soon after Molly and Esther. They had +decided to stay at the St. Boniface hotel where rooms had already been +engaged, and, with Suzanne swathed in veils and clinging to her mother's +arm, they were escorted to the elevator and cheered on their way by the +two Whitneys. When the car slid out of sight the father and the son went +back into the old man's room. + +It was now late afternoon, the sun, sinking in a fiery glow, glazed the +waters of the bay, seen from these high windows like a golden floor. The +day, which had opened fresh and cool, had grown unbearably hot; even +here, far above the street's stifling level, the air was breathless. The +men, starting the electric fans, sat down to talk things over and wait. +For the machinery of "the move" spoken of by Wilbur Whitney already had +been set in motion. + +Immediately after Esther's telephone message O'Malley had been called up +and, with an assistant, dispatched to watch the Gayle Street house. As +Whitney had told his clients, the news of the child's disappearance had +hardly surprised him. Chapman's anger and threats portended some violent +action of reprisal, and, even as the lawyer had questioned what form it +might take, came the answer. Chapman had stolen his own child and had a +hiding place prepared and waiting for her reception. It was undoubtedly +only a temporary refuge, he would hardly keep her in such sordid +surroundings. The Whitneys saw it as a night's bivouac before a longer +flight. And that flight would never take place; every exit was under +surveillance, there was no possibility of escape. The two men, smoking +tranquilly under the breath of the electric fans, were quietly +confident. They would bring Chapman's vengeance to an abrupt end and +avert an ignominious family scandal. Meantime they awaited O'Malley--who +was to return to the office for George--and as they waited discussed the +kidnapping, knowledge supplemented by deductions. + +When Chapman had decided on it he had instructed Esther, telling her to +inform him when the opportunity offered. This she could do by letter, +or, if time pressed, by telephone from a booth in the village. The trip +to New York had been planned several days in advance and he had been +advised of it, its details probably telephoned in the day before. He--or +some one in his pay--had driven the taxi. It had been stationed in the +rank near the house, where in the dead season there were few vehicles +and from whence the extra one needed by Suzanne would naturally be +taken. That Esther, with a long list of commissions to execute, should +leave the child in the cab was an entirely natural proceeding. Her +explanation of her subsequent actions was also disarmingly plausible, +and the minutes thus expended gave the time necessary for the driver to +make his get-away. Before she had acquainted Suzanne with the news, the +child was hidden in the room at 76 Gayle Street. + +Whether the room was taken for this purpose was a question. If it was +then the idea had been in Chapman's mind for weeks--it was the "coming +back" he had hinted at when he left Grasslands. If, however, it had been +hired as a place of rendezvous with his confederate, it had assisted +them in the carrying out of their plot--might indeed have suggested it. +For as a lair in which to lie low it offered every advantage--secluded, +inconspicuous, the rest of the floor untenanted. They could keep the +child there without rousing a suspicion, for if Chapman was with +her--and they took for granted that he was--she would be contented and +make no outcry. She loved him and was happy in his society. + +"Poor devil!" growled the old man. "You can't help being sorry for him, +even if he did do it to hit back. It's his child and he's fond of her." + +George gave a short laugh: + +"I fancy it's more the hitting back than the fondness. Chapman's not +shown up lately in a very sentimental light. It wouldn't surprise me if +he'd ransom in the back of his mind. But we'll put an end to his +ambitions or parental longings or whatever's inspiring him." He looked +at his watch, then rose. "It's a quarter past seven and O'Malley's due +at the half hour. It's understood we're to bring the child here first?" + +His father gave an assenting grunt and hitched his chair into the +current of air from the fan. + +George turned on the lights, their tempered radiance flooding the room, +the windows starting out as black squares sewn with stars. + +"I don't quite see what I'm going to say to him," he muttered, a +sidelong eye on his father. + +"Say nothing," came the answer. "Bring the child back here--that's your +job. Leave him to me. Mrs. Janney and I'll have it out with him when the +time comes." + +On the tick of half-past seven O'Malley appeared. Trickles of +perspiration ran down his red face, and his collar was melted to a +sodden band. + +"Gee," he panted as he ran a handkerchief round his neck, "it's like a +Turkish bath down there in the street." + +"Well," said George, impatient of all but the main issue, "is it all +right?" + +"Yep--I've left two men in charge--every exit's covered. And there's +only one they could use--no way out back except over the fences and +through other houses." + +"He could hardly tackle that with a child." + +"He couldn't tackle it alone and make it--not the way I've got things +fixed. And I've worked out our line of action; Stebbins relieved me at +half-past six and I went and had a sance with the janitor. Said I was +coming round later with a man who was looking for a room--the room I'd +been inquiring about. That'll let us in quiet; right up to the top floor +and no questions asked." + +"The only hitch possible can come from Chapman--he may be ugly and show +his teeth." + +The old man answered: + +"I guess he'll be tractable. If he's inclined to argue bring him along +with you. It's after eight. I don't want to sit here half the night. Get +busy and go." + +O'Malley had a taxi waiting and they slid off up the deserted regions of +Broadway. After a few blocks they swerved to the left, plunging into a +congeries of mean streets where a network of fire-escapes encaged the +house fronts. The lights from small shops illumined the sidewalks, thick +with sauntering people. The taxi moved slowly, children darting from its +approach, swept round a corner and ran on through less animated lanes of +travel, upper windows bright, disheveled figures leaning on the sills, +vague groupings on front steps. At intervals, like the threatening voice +of some advancing monster, came the roar of the elevated trains, +sweeping across a vista with a rocking rush of light. O'Malley drew +himself to the edge of the sea and peered out ahead. + +"We're not far off now," he muttered. "We'll stop at the corner of the +block--there's a bookbinding place there that's dark and quiet. If we go +to the door they might catch on, get panicky, and make a row." + +At one end of the street's length the lamp-spotted darkness of +Washington Square showed like a spangled curtain. The cab turned from it +and crossed a wide avenue over which the skeleton structure of the +elevated straddled like a vast centipede. Beyond stretched a darkling +perspective touched at recurring intervals with the white spheres of +lamps. It was a propitious time, the evening overflow dispersed, the +loneliness of the deep night hours, when a footfall echoes loud and a +solitary figure looms mysterious, not yet come. + +The cab drew up at the curb by the shuttered face of the book bindery +and the man alighted. With a low command to the driver, O'Malley, George +beside him, walked up the block. From a shadowy doorway a figure +detached itself, slunk by them with a whispered hail and vanished. +Toward the street's far end they stopped at a door level with the +sidewalk, and O'Malley, bending to scrutinize a line of push buttons, +pressed one. + +"Is this the place?" George whispered, in startled revulsion. + +"This is the place. And a good one for Price's purpose as you'll see +when you get in." + +The young man noted the battered doorway, slightly out of plumb, then +stepped back and glanced at the faade. Many of the windows, uncurtained +and open, were lit up. Those of the top floor--dormers projecting from a +mansard roof--were dark. He was about to call O'Malley's attention to +this, when the sounds of footsteps within the house checked him. + +There was a rattling of locks and bolts and the door swung open +disclosing a man, grimy, old and bent, a lamp in his hand. He squinted +uncertainly at them, then growled irritably as he recognized O'Malley: + +"Oh, it's you. I thought you wasn't comin'? If you'd been any later you +wouldn't 'a got me up." + +O'Malley explained that the gentleman was detained--couldn't get away +any earlier, very sorry, but they'd be quick and make no noise--just +wanted to see the rooms and get out. + +In single file, the janitor leading, they mounted the stairs. To the +aristocratic senses of George the place seemed abominable. The +staircase, narrow and without balustrade, ran up steeply between walls +once painted green, now blotched and smeared. At the end of the first +flight there was a small landing, a gas bracket holding aloft a tiny +point of flame. It was as hot as an oven, the stifling atmosphere +impregnated with mingled odors of cooking, stale cigar smoke, and the +mustiness of close, unaired spaces. + +On the second landing one of the doors was open, affording a glimpse of +a squalid interior, and a man in his shirt sleeves bent over a table +writing. He did not look up as they creaked by. From somewhere near, +muffled by walls, came the thin, frail tinkling of guitar strings. As +they ascended the temperature grew higher, the air held in the low attic +story under the roof, baked to a sweltering heat. The janitor muttered +an excuse--the top floor being vacant the windows were kept shut--it +would be cool enough when they were opened. + +He had gained the last landing, which broadened into a small square of +hall cut by three doors. As he turned to one on the left, O'Malley +slipped by him and drew away toward that on the right. There was a +moment of silence, broken by the clinking of the man's keys. He had +trouble in finding the right one and set his lamp down on a chair, his +head bent over the bunch. George was aware of O'Malley's figure casting +a huge wavering shadow up the wall, edging closer to the right hand +door. + +The key was found and inserted in the lock and the janitor entered the +room, his lamp diffusing a yellow aura in the midst of which he moved, a +black, retreating shape. With his withdrawal the light in the hall, +furnished by a bead of gas, faded to a flickering obscurity. O'Malley's +shadow disappeared, and George could see him as a formless oblong, +pressed against the panel. There was a moment of intense stillness, the +guitar tinkling faint as if coming through illimitable distances. The +detective's voice rose in a whisper, vital and intimate, against the +music's spectral thinness: + +"Queer. There's not a sound." + +His hand stole to the handle, clasped it, turned it. Noiselessly the +door opened upon darkness into which he slipped equally noiseless. + +That slow opening was so surprising, so dreamlike in its quality of the +totally unexpected, that George stood rooted. He stared at the square of +the door, waiting for voices, clamor, the anticipated in some form. Then +he saw the darkness pierced by the white ray of an electric torch and +heard a sound--a rumbled oath from O'Malley. It brought him to the +threshold. In the middle of the room, his torch sending its shaft over +walls and floor, stood the detective alone, his face, the light shining +upward on the chin and the tip of his nose, grotesque in its enraged +dismay. + +"Not here--d----n them!" and his voice trailed off into furious curses. + +"Gone?" The surprise had made George forgetful. + +"Gone--no!" The man almost shouted in his anger. "How could they +go?--Didn't I say every outlet was blocked. They ain't been here. They +ain't had her here. Get a match, light the gas--I got to see the place +anyway." + +The torch's ray had touched a gas fixture on the wall and hung steady +there. As the men fumbled for matches, the janitor came clumping across +the hall, calling in querulous protest: + +"Say--how'd you get in there? That ain't the place--it's rented." + + +[Illustration: _His face was ludicrous in its enraged enmity_] + + +He stopped in the doorway, scowling at them under the glow of his upheld +lamp. A match sputtered over the gas and a flame burst up with a +whistling rush. In the combined illumination the room was revealed as +bleak and hideous, the walls with blistered paper peeling off in shreds, +the carpet worn in paths and patches, an iron bed, a bureau, by the one +window, a table. The janitor continuing his expostulations, O'Malley +turned on him and flashed his badge with a fierce: + +"Shut up there. Keep still and get out. We've got a right here and if +you make any trouble you'll hear from us." + +The man shrank, scared. + +"Police!" he faltered, then looking from one to the other. "But what +for? There's no one here, there ain't ever been any one--it's took but +it's been empty ever since." + +O'Malley who had sent an exploring glance about him, made a dive for a +newspaper lying crumpled on the floor by the bed. One look at it, and he +was at the man's side, shaking it in his face: + +"What do you say to this? Yesterday's--how'd it get here? Blew in +through the window maybe." + +The janitor scanned the top of the page, then raised his eyes to the +watching faces. His fright had given place to bewilderment and he began +a stammering explanation--if any one had been there he'd never known it, +never seen no one come in or go out, never heard a sound from the +inside. + +"Did you see any one--any one that isn't a regular resident--come into +the house yesterday or to-day?" It was George's question. + +He didn't know as he'd seen anybody--not to notice. The tenants had +friends, they was in and out all day and part of the night. And anyway +he wasn't around much after he'd swept the halls and taken down the +pails. Yesterday and to-day he guessed he'd stayed in the basement most +of the time. If anybody had been in the room--and it looked like they +had--it was unbeknownst to him. The lady had the key; she could have +come in without him seeing; it wasn't his business to keep tab on the +tenants. He showed a tendency to diverge to the subject of his duties +and George cut him off with a greenback pushed into his grimy claw and +an order to keep their visit secret. + +Meantime O'Malley had started on an examination of the room. There was +more than the paper to prove the presence of a recent occupant. The bed +showed the imprint of a body; pillow and counterpane were indented by +the pressure of a recumbent form. On its foot lay a book, an unworn +copy, as if newly bought, of "The Forest Lovers." The table held an ink +bottle, the ink still moist round its uncorked mouth, some paper and +envelopes and a pen. There was a scattering of pins on the bureau, two +gilt hairpins and a black net veil, crumpled into a bunch. Pushed back +toward the mirror was the cover of the soap dish containing ashes and +the butts of four cigarettes. + +O'Malley studied the bureau closely, ran the light of his torch back and +forth across it, shook out the veil, sniffed it, and put it and the two +hairpins carefully into his wallet. Then with the book and the paper in +his hand he straightened up, turned to George, and said: + +"That about cleans it up. There's nothing for it now but to go back." + +The janitor, anxiously watchful, followed on their heels as they went +down the stairs. Their clattering descent was followed by the strains of +the guitar, thinly debonair and mocking as if exulting over their +discomfiture. In the street the same shape emerged from the shadows and +slouched toward them. A grunted phrase from O'Malley sent it drifting +away, spiritless and without response, like a lonely ghost come in timid +expectation and repelled by a rebuff. + +O'Malley dropped into a corner of the taxi and as it glided off, said: + +"That's the last of 76 Gayle Street as far as they're concerned." + +"Why do you say that?" + +In the darkness the detective permitted himself a sidelong glance of +scorn. + +"You don't leave the door unlocked in that sort of place unless you're +done with it. They've got all they wanted out of it and quit." + +"Abandoned it?" + +"That's right--made a neat, quiet get-away. They didn't say they were +going, didn't give up the key--it was on the inside of the door. Just +slid out and vanished." + +"Some one was there yesterday." + +"Um," O'Malley's voice showed a pondering concentration of thought. +"Some one was lying on the bed reading; waiting or passing time." + +"They couldn't have been there to-day--before your men were on the job?" + +O'Malley drew himself to the edge of the seat, his chest inflated with a +sudden breath: + +"Why couldn't they? Why couldn't _that_ have been the rendezvous? Why +couldn't she have lost the child down here on Gayle Street instead of +opposite Justin's? Price was there beforehand: up she comes, tips him +off that the taxi's in the street, sees him leave and goes herself, +across to Fifth Avenue where she picks up a cab. It's safer than the +other way--no cops round, janitor in the basement, if she's seen nothing +to be remarked--a lady known to have a room on the top floor." He +brought his fist down on his knee. "That's what they did and it explains +what's been puzzling me." + +"What?" + +"There was no dust on the top of the bureau; it had been wiped off +to-day. There was no dust on that veil; it hadn't been there since +yesterday. A woman fixed herself at that glass not so long ago. Price +had a date with her to deliver the child and he was lying on the bed +reading while he waited. When he heard her he threw down the book, got +the good word and lit out. After he'd gone she took off her veil--what +for? To get her face up to show to Mrs. Price--whiten it, make it look +right for the news she was bringing. When she left she was made up for +the part she was to play. And I take my hat off to her, for she played +it like a star." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX--MOLLY'S STORY + + +It was nearly seven when we got back to Grasslands. We alighted as +silent as we started, and I was following Miss Maitland into the hall, +Ferguson behind me, when she turned in the doorway and spoke. She had +orders that the servants must know nothing; she was to tell them that +the family would stay in town for a few days, and for me to be careful +what I said before them. Then, before I could answer, she glanced at +Ferguson and said good-by, her eyes just touching him for a moment and +passing, cold and weary, back to me. She'd wish me good-night, she was +going to her room and not coming down again--no, thanks, she'd take no +dinner, she was very tired. She didn't need to say that. If I ever saw a +person dead beat and at the end of her string she was it. + +Ferguson stood looking after her. I think for the moment he forgot me, +or maybe he wasn't conscious of what his face showed. Some way or other +I didn't like to look at him; it was as if I was spying on something I +had no right to see. So I turned away and dropped into one of the +balcony chairs, sunk down against the back and feeling limp as a rag. + +Presently came his step and he was in front of me, his head bent down +with the hair hanging loose on his forehead, and his eyes like they were +hooks that would pull the words out of me: + +"What happened up there at the Whitneys?" + +"Mr. Ferguson," I answered solemn, "I've told you more than I ought +already. Is it the right thing for me to go on doing wrong?" + +"Yes," he says, sharp and decided, "it's exactly the right thing. Keep +on doing it and we'll get somewhere." + +I set my lips tight and looked past him at the lawn. He waited a minute +then said: + +"I thought you agreed to trust me." + +"There's a good deal more to it now than there was then." + +"All the more reason for telling me. Of course I can get all I want from +Mrs. Janney or either of the Whitneys; they don't let ladylike scruples +stand in the way. But that means a trip to town and I'm not ready to +take it." + +It was surprising how that young man could make you feel like a worm who +had a conscience in place of common sense. + +"Have I got your word, sworn to on the Bible, if we had one here, not to +give her a hint of it?" + +"Good Lord!" he groaned. "Don't talk like the ingnue in a melodrama. +Let me see why the Whitneys think so much of you. You must have _some_ +intelligence--give me a sample of it." + +That settled it. + +"Take a seat," I said. "You make me nervous staring at me like the lion +in the menagerie at the fat child." + +He sat down and I told him--the whole business, what she had said, what +they had thought--everything. When I'd finished he rose up and, with his +hands burrowed deep in his pockets, began pacing up and down the +balcony. I didn't give a peep, watching him cautious from under my +eyelids. + +After a bit he said in a low voice: + +"Preposterous--crazy! She had no more to do with it than you have." + +"They think different." + +"I've gathered that. And Price had nothing to do with it either." + +It was all very well for him to stand by her, but to sweep Price off the +map! I couldn't sit still and let him rave on. + +"Price hadn't? Take another guess. Price is the mainspring of it." + +"I'll leave guessing to you--it's your business, and you appear to do it +very well." + +"Say, drop me altogether. I'm only a paid servant. But you'll have to +admit that Mr. Whitney and his son count pretty big in their line." + +"Very big, Miss Rogers. But they've made a mistake this time--or +possibly been misled. The Janneys have never been fair to Price. They're +prejudiced and they've branded the prejudice on. He isn't an angel, +neither is he a rascal. He didn't take his child, he never thought of +it, he couldn't do it." + +"Then who did?" + +"That's what I want to find out." + +"Jerusalem!" I said, sitting up, feeling like the peaceful scene around +me was suddenly dark and strange. "You don't think she's _really_ been +kidnaped?" + +"I can't think anything else." He stopped in front of me, looking at me +hard and stern. "I'd like to find another solution but I'm unable to." + +"But, gee-whizz!" I stared at him, all worried and mixed. "You can't get +away from the facts. They're all there--there's hardly a break." + +"I don't admit that. This man and woman have got characters and records +that haven't been considered--but even if you had a hole-proof case +against them I wouldn't believe it." + +"Oh, pshaw!" I said, simmering down, "you just believe what you want to. +I've seen people like that before." + +"I daresay you have, I'm not a unique specimen in the human family. But +I'll tell you what I am just at this juncture--the only one among you +that's right." He drew back and gave a vengeful wag of his head at me. +"You've all gone off at half-cock--doing your best to ruin a man who's +harmless and a girl who's--who's--" he stopped, and wheeled away from +me. "Tch--it makes me sick! Hate and anger and jealousy--that's what's +at the bottom of it. I can't talk about it any longer--it's too beastly. +Good-night!" + +He turned on his heel, ran down the steps and over the grass, clearing +the terrace wall with a leap. I looked after him, fading into the early +night, disturbed and with a sort of cold heaviness in my heart. He was +no fool--suppose what he thought was true? Suppose that dear child whom +I'd grown to love--but, rubbish! I wouldn't think of it. It was easy to +account for the way he felt. Every little movement has a meaning of its +own--and the meaning in all his little movements was love. He had it +bad, poor chap, out on him like the measles, and while you have to be +gentle with the sick you don't pay much attention to what they say. + +That was a dreary evening. There being no one but me around they served +my dinner in the dining room, and it added to the strain. Some of the +food I didn't know whether to eat with a fork or a spoon, so I had to +pass up a lot which was hard seeing I was hungry. But when you're born +in an east side tenement you feel touchy that way--I wasn't going to be +criticized by two corn-fed menials. I'm glad I'm not rich; it's grand +all right, but it isn't comfortable. + +The next day--Saturday--it rained and I sat round in the hall and my +room where I could hear the 'phone and keep an eye on Miss Maitland. All +she did was to go for a walk, and in the afternoon stay in her study. We +saw each other at meals, our conversation specially edited for Dixon and +Isaac. + +Sunday was fine weather again and Ferguson came round at twelve. Miss +Maitland had gone for another walk and he and I had the hall to +ourselves. He'd been in town the day before, seen George Whitney and +told him what he thought. When I asked how Mr. George took it, he gave a +sarcastic smile and said, "He listened very politely but didn't seem +much impressed." He also told me they'd hoped to find the child Friday +night in the room at 76 Gayle Street and had been disappointed. + +"Of course she wasn't there," and he ended with "it was only wasting +valuable time, but there's a proverb about none being so blind as those +who won't see." + +After that he dropped the subject--I think he wanted to get away from +it--and pow-wowing together we worked around to the robbery, which had +been side-tracked by the bigger matter. He said it had been in his mind +to tell me a curious circumstance that he'd come on the night the jewels +were taken and that he thought might be helpful to me. It was about a +cigar band that Miss Maitland had found in the woods that evening when +he and she had walked home together. Before he was half through I was +listening attentive as a cat at a mouse hole, for it was a queer story +and had possibilities. After I put some questions and had it all clear, +we mulled it over--the way I love to do. + +"A man dropped it," I said slowly, my thoughts chasing ahead of my +words, "who went through the woods after the storm." + +"Exactly--between eight-thirty and ten-thirty. And do you grasp the fact +that those were the hours the house was vacated--the logical time to rob +it?" + +"Yes, I've thought of that often--wondered why they waited." + +"And do you grasp another fact--that Hannah a little before nine heard +the dogs barking and then quieting down as if they scented some one they +knew?" + +I nodded; that too I'd made a mental note of. + +"It couldn't have been Price for he was on the way to town then." + +"Oh, Price--" he gave an impatient jerk of his head--"of course it +wasn't Price, but it _was_ some one the dogs knew. That would have been +just about the time a man, watching the house and seeing the ground +floor dark, would have come across the lawn to make his entrance." + +I pondered for a spell then said: + +"Did you ever tell this to Mrs. Janney or any of them?" + +"No, I didn't think of it myself until a little while ago--the night I +dined here and saw it was one of Mr. Janney's cigars. And then what was +the use--the light by the safe had fixed the time." + +"Yes--if it wasn't for that light you'd have got a real lead. Too bad, +for it's a bully starting point, and it would have let out those other +two." + +He stiffened up, suddenly haughty looking. + +"There's no necessity of letting out people who never were in. But if +that light was eliminated you could work on the theory that a +professional thief--an expert safe opener--had done the business." + +"How would the dogs know _him_?" I asked. + +He leaned toward me, looking with a quiet sort of meaning into my face: + +"Suppose you put that mind of yours, that Wilbur Whitney values so +highly and I'm beginning to see indications of, on that question." + +"What's the sense of wasting it? My mind's my capital and I don't draw +on it unless there's a need. You get rid of that light at one-thirty and +I'll expend some of it." + +I laughed, but he didn't, looking on the ground frowning and thoughtful. +Then a step on the balcony made us both turn. It was Miss Maitland, back +from her walk, looking much better, a smile at the sight of him, and a +little color in her face. She joined us and, Dixon announcing lunch, +Ferguson invited himself to stay. It was the first human meal I'd eaten +since the doors of the dining room had opened to me. + +After lunch I left them on the balcony and went upstairs to my room. I +tried to read but the air, blowing in warm and sweet and the scent of +the garden coming up, made the book seem dull, and I went to the window +and leaned out. + +A while passed that way and then I saw Ferguson going home, a long +figure in white flannels striding across the lawn to the wood path. Then +out from the kitchen come the servants, all togged up, six girls and +Isaac, and away they go on their bikes to the beach. From what I've seen +of the homes of the rich I'd rather be in the kitchen than the +parlor--the help have it all over the quality for plain enjoyment. They +went off bawling gayly, and presently Dixon appears, looking like a +parson on his day off, all brisk and cheerful. Last of all comes Hannah, +her hair as slick as a seal's, a dinky little hat set on top of it, and +a parasol held over it all. She waddled off, large and slow, in another +direction, toward the woods--for a cup of tea and a neighborly gossip in +Ferguson's kitchen, I guess. How I wished I was along with them! + +There I was left, lolling back and forth on the sill, kicking with my +toes on the floor, and wondering what my poor, deserted boy was doing in +town. Then sudden, piercing the stillness with a sort of tingling +thrill, comes the ring of the hall telephone. + +I gave a soft jump, snatched up my pad and pencil, and was at the table +and had the receiver off before she'd got to the closet downstairs. It +was so quiet, not a sound in the house, that I could hear every catch in +her breath and every tone in her voice. And what I heard was worth +listening to. A man spoke first: + +"Hello, who's this?" + +"Esther Maitland. Is it--is it?" + +"Yes--C. P. I've waited until now as I knew there wouldn't be anybody +around. It's all right." + +"Truly. You're not saying it to keep me quiet?" + +"Not a bit. There's no need for any worry. Everything's gone without a +hitch." + +"And you think it's safe--to--to--take the next step?" + +"Perfectly. We're going to get her out of town on Tuesday night." + +"Oh!" I could hear the relief in her voice. "You don't know what this +means to me?" + +He gave a little, dry laugh: + +"Me too--I'll admit it's been something of a strain. That's all I wanted +to say. Good-by." + +I scratched it on the pad, and tiptoed back to my room, short of breath +a bit myself. What would Ferguson say to this? I stood by the window, +thinking how to send it in, and things went right for out she came from +the balcony and walked across to a place on the lawn where there were +some chairs under a group of maples. She sat down and began to read, and +I stole back to the hall and took a call for the Whitney house. Being +Sunday they might be out, but that went right too, for I got the Chief +himself. I told him and asked for instructions and they came straight +and quick: + +"Bring her into town to-morrow morning. There's a train at nine-thirty +you can take. Get a taxi at the depot and come right up to the office. +You'll have to tell her in what capacity you're serving the family. +That'll be easy--you were engaged for the robbery. Don't let her think +you have any interest in the kidnaping, and on no account let her guess +we suspect her. Say you've had a message from me, that some new facts +have come in and I want to ask her a few questions--see if the +information tallies with what she saw. Keep her quiet and calm. Got that +straight? All right--so long." + + + + +CHAPTER XX--MOLLY'S STORY + + +The next morning, in the hall, right after breakfast I told her what I +had to tell--I mean who I was. It gave her a start--held her listening +with her eyes hard on mine--then when I explained it was for inside work +on the robbery she eased up, got cool and nodded her head at me, +politely agreeing. She understood perfectly and would go wherever she +was wanted; she was glad to do anything that would be of assistance; no +one was more anxious than she to help the family in their distress, and +so forth and so on. + +On the way in she was quiet, but I don't think as peaceful as she acted. +She asked me some questions about my work. I answered brisk and bright +and she said it must be a very interesting profession. I've seen nervy +people in my time but no woman that beat her for cool sand, and the way +I'm built I can't help but respect courage no matter what the person's +like who has it. Before we reached town I was full of admiration for +that girl who, as far as I could judge, was a crook from the ground up. + +When we reached the office I was called into an inner room where the +Chief and Mr. George were waiting. I gave them my paper with the 'phone +message on it, and answered the few questions they had to ask. I learned +then that they'd got hold of more evidence against her. O'Malley had +snooped round the Gayle Street locality and heard that on Friday morning +about half-past eleven a taxi, containing a child resembling Bbita, had +been seen opposite a book bindery on the corner of the block. I didn't +hear any particulars but I saw by the Chief's manner, quiet and sort of +absorbed, and by Mr. George, like a blue-ribbon pup straining at the +leash, that they had Esther Maitland dead to rights and the end was in +sight. + +After that I was sent back into the hall where I'd left her and told to +bring her into the old man's private office. We went up the passage, a +murmur of voices growing louder as we advanced. She was ahead and, as +the door opened, she stopped for a moment on the threshold, quick, like +a horse that wants to shy. Over her shoulder I could see in, and I don't +wonder she pulled up--any one would. There, beside the Chief and Mr. +George, were the two old Janneys and Mrs. Price, sitting stiff as +statues, each of them with their eyes on her, gimlet-sharp and +gimlet-hard. They said some sort of "How d'ye do" business and made bows +like Chinese mandarins, but their faces would have made a chorus girl +get thoughtful. I guessed then they knew about the tapped message and +had come to see Miss Maitland get the third degree. She scented the +trouble ahead too--I don't see how she could have helped it; there was +thunder in the air. But she said good-morning to them, cordial and easy, +and walked over to the chair Mr. George pushed forward for her. + +Sitting there in the midst of them, she looked at the Chief, politely +inquiring, and I couldn't help but think she was a winner. Mrs. Price, +all weazened up and washed out, was like a cosmetic advertisement beside +her. She held herself very straight, her hands folded together in her +lap, her head up cool and proud. She had on the white hat with the +wreath of grapes and a wash-silk dress of white with lilac stripes that +set easy over her fine shoulders, and, believe me, bad or good, she was +a thoroughbred. + +The Chief, turning himself round toward her with a hitch of his chair, +began as bland and friendly as if they'd just met at a tea-fest. + +"We're very sorry to bother you again, Miss Maitland. But certain facts +have come up since you were here that make it necessary for me to ask +you a few more questions." + +She just inclined her head a little and murmured: + +"It's no bother at all, Mr. Whitney. I'm only too anxious to help in any +way I can." + +Honest-to-God I think the Chief got a jar; the words came as smooth and +as cool as cream just off the ice. For a second he looked at his desk +and moved a paper knife very careful, as if it was precious and he was +afraid of breaking it. + +"I'm glad to hear you say that, Miss Maitland. It's not only what one +would expect you to feel, but it makes me sure that you will be willing +to explain certain circumstances concerning yourself and +your--er--activities--that have--well--er--rather puzzled us." + +It was my business to watch her and even if it hadn't been I couldn't +have helped doing it. I saw just two things--the light strike white +across the breast of her blouse where a quick breath lifted it, and, for +a second, her hands close tight till the knuckles shone. Then they +relaxed and she said very softly: + +"Certainly. I'll explain anything." + +"Very good. I was sure you would." He leaned forward, one arm on the +desk, his big shoulders hunched, his eyes sharp on her but still very +kind. "We have discovered--of course you'll understand that our +detectives have been busy in all directions--that nearly a month ago you +took a room at 76 Gayle Street. Now that I should ask about this may +seem an unwarranted impertinence, but I would like to know just why you +took that room." + +There was a slight pause. Mrs. Price, who was sitting next to me, an +empty chair in front of her, rustled and in the moment of silence I +could hear her breathing, short and catchy, like it was coming hard. +Miss Maitland, who, as the Chief had spoken, had dropped her eyes to her +hands, looked up at him: + +"I have no objection to telling you. I took it for a school friend of +mine--Aggie Brown, a girl I hadn't seen for years. A month ago she wrote +me from St. Louis and told me she was coming to New York to study art +and asked me to engage a room for her. She said she had very little +money and it must be inexpensive. I had heard of that place from other +girls--that it was respectable and cheap--so I engaged the room. It so +happens that my friend is not yet in New York. She was delayed by +illness in her family." + +I sent a look around and caught them like pictures going quick in a +movie--Mr. Janney glimpsing sideways, worried and frowning, at his wife, +Mr. George, his arm on the back of his chair, pulling at his little +blonde mustache and twisting his mouth around, and the Chief pawing +absent-minded after the paper knife. Miss Maitland, with her chin up and +her shoulders square, had her eye on him, attentive and steady, like a +soldier waiting for orders. + +Then out of the silence came Mrs. Janney's voice, rumbling like distant +thunder: + +"But you went to that room yourself?" + +The Chief's hand made a quick wave at her for silence. Miss Maitland +didn't seem to notice it; she turned to Mrs. Janney and answered: + +"Yes, several times, Mrs. Janney. I'd had to pay the rent in advance and +I had a key, so when I was in town and had time to spare I went there. +It was quiet and convenient--I used to write letters and read." + +"Would you mind telling me why Mr. Chapman Price went there too?" + +It was the Chief's voice this time, quite low and oh, so deep and mild. +Miss Maitland's attitude didn't change, but again her hands clasped and +stayed clasped. She gave a little, provocative smile, almost as if she +was trying to flirt with him, and said: + +"You seem to know a great deal about me and my affairs, Mr. Whitney." + +He returned the smile, good-humored, as if he liked the way she'd come +back at him. + +"A little, Miss Maitland. You see we have had to, unpleasant but still +necessary--you have no objection to answering?" + +"Oh, not the least, only--" her glance swept over the solemn faces of +the others--"I'm afraid Mrs. Janney may not approve of what I've done. I +met Mr. Price there to tell him about Bbita; I was sorry for him, for +the position he was in. He was fond of her and he heard almost nothing +about her. So I arranged to give him news of her, tell him how she was, +and little funny things she had said. It wasn't the right thing to do +but I--I--pitied him so." + +A sound--I can't call it anything but a grunt--came from Mrs. Janney. +Mr. George, still pulling at his mustache, shifted uneasily in his +chair. Beside me I could hear that stifled breathing of Mrs. Price, and +her hand, all covered with rings, stole forward and clasped like a +bird's claw on the chair in front. I don't think Miss Maitland noticed +any of this. Her eyes were on the Chief, fixed and sort of defiant. Her +face had lost its calm look; there were pink spots on her cheek bones. + +"A natural thing to do," said the Chief mildly, "though hardly discreet +considering the situation. But we won't argue about that--we'll pass on +to the business of the moment. Now you told us last time you were here +that you left the taxi in front of Justin's. Inquiries there of the +doorman have elicited the information that he remembers the cab and the +child, and says it was still there when you came out and that you got +into it and drove away." + +"How can the doorman at a place where hundreds of carriages stop every +day remember the people in each one?" All the softness was gone out of +her voice and her face began to look different, as if it had grown +thinner. "It's absurd--he couldn't possibly be sure of every woman and +child who stopped there. My word is against his, and it seems to me I'm +much more likely to know what I did than he is--especially _that_ day." + +"Certainly, certainly." The Chief was all kindly understanding. "Under +the circumstances every event of that morning should be impressed on +your memory. But another fact has come up that seems to us curious. One +of our detectives has heard from a clerk in a book bindery at the corner +near 76 Gayle Street, that on Friday last, at about half-past eleven, he +saw a taxi standing at the curb there. He noticed a child in it talking +to the driver and his description of this child, her appearance and +clothes, is a very accurate description of Bbita." + +He looked at her over his glasses, with a sort of ominous, waiting +attention. I'd have wilted under it, but she didn't, only what had been +a restrained quietness gave place to a sort of steely tension. You could +see that her body all over was as rigid as the hands clenched together, +the fingers knotted round each other. It was will and a fighting spirit +that kept her up. I began to feel my own muscles drawing tight, +wondering if she'd get through and praying that she would--I don't know +why. + +"It's quite possible that this man--this clerk--may have seen such a +taxi with such a child in it. There must be a great many little girls in +New York whose description would fit Bbita. I dare say if your +detective had gone about the city he would have heard of any number of +cabs and children that would have fitted just as well. I can't imagine +why you're asking me these questions or why you don't seem to believe +what I say. But even if you don't believe it, that won't prevent me from +sticking to it." + +"A commendable spirit, Miss Maitland, when one is sure of one's facts," +said the Chief, and suddenly pushing back his chair he rose. "Now I've +just one more matter to call to your attention, a little memorandum +here, which, if you'll be good enough to explain, we'll end this rather +trying interview." + +He went over to her, fumbling in his vest pocket, and then drew out my +folded paper and put it into her hand: + +"It's the record of a telephone message received by you yesterday at +Grasslands, and tapped by our detective, Miss Rogers." + +He stepped back and stood leaning against the desk watching her. We all +did; there wasn't an eye in that room which wasn't glued on that +unfortunate girl as she opened the paper and read the words. + +It was a knock-out blow. I knew it would be--I didn't see how it +couldn't--and yet she'd put up such a fight that some way or other I +thought she'd pull out. But that bowled her over like a nine pin. + +She turned as white as the paper and her hands holding it shook so you +could hear it rustle. Then she looked up and her eyes were +awful--hunted, desperate. Yet she made a last frantic effort, with her +face like a death mask and all the breath so gone out of her she had +only a hoarse thread of voice: + +"I--I--don't know what this is--oh, yes, yes, I mean I do. But it--it +refers to something else--it's--it's--that friend of mine--Aggie Brown +from St. Louis--she's come and Mr. Price--" + +She couldn't go on; her lips couldn't get out any words. You could see +the brain behind them had had such a shock it wouldn't work. + +"Miss Maitland," said the Chief, solemn as an executioner, "we've got +you where you can't keep this up. There's no use in these evasions and +denials. Where is Bbita?" + +"I don't know--I don't know anything about her. I swear to Heaven I +don't." + +She raised her voice with the last words and looked at them, round at +those stony faces, wild like an animal cornered. + +"What's the matter with you? Why do you think I'd be a party to such a +thing? Why don't you believe me--why _can't_ you believe me? And you +don't--not one of you. You think I'm guilty of this infamous thing. All +right, _think_ it. Do what you like with me--arrest me, put me in jail, +I don't care." + +She put her hands over her face and collapsed down in her chair, like a +spring that had held her up had broken. That breathing beside me had +grown so loud it sounded as if it came from some one running the last +lap of a race. Now it suddenly broke into a sound--more like a growl +than anything else--and Mrs. Price got up, shuffling and shaking, her +hands holding on to the chair in front. + +"She ought to be put in jail," she gasped out. "She's bad right +through--everything she's said is a lie. And she's a thief too." + +There was a movement of consternation among them all--getting up, +pushing back chairs, several voices speaking together: + +"Keep quiet." + +"Mrs. Price, I beg of you--" + +"Suzanne, sit down." + +But she went on, looking like a withered old witch, with her bird-like +hands clutched on the chair back: + +"I won't sit down, I won't keep quiet. I've sat here listening to all +this and I've had enough. I'm crazy; my baby's gone; she's taken it, +she's taken everything--" She turned to her mother. "She took your +jewels--I know it." + +Mr. Janney burst in like a bombshell. I never thought he could break +loose that way, with his voice shrill and a shaking finger pointing into +his stepdaughter's face. + +"Stop this. I can't stand for it--I know something about that--I saw--" + +But she wouldn't stop, no one could make her: + +"I saw too, and I'm going to tell you. I don't care what you say, I +don't care what you think of me--my heart's broken and I don't care for +anything but to have my baby back." She addressed her mother again. "_I_ +went to take your jewels that night. Yes, I did; I went to steal +them--not all of them--just that long diamond chain you never wear. +_You_ know why; you knew I hadn't any money and that I had to have it. I +was going to sell it and put what I got in stocks and if I was lucky buy +it back so you'd never know. It was _I_ who took Bbita's torch--that's +why it was lost--and I went down to the safe. I'd found the combination +in a drawer in the library and learnt it. And when I opened it +everything was gone. Some one had been there before me, the cases were +all together in their box but they were empty." She clawed at the +embroidered purse hanging on her arm and began to jerk at the cord, +pulling it open. "But I found something, something the thief had +dropped, lying on the floor just inside the door." She drew out a twist +of tissue paper, and unrolling it held it toward the Chief; "I found +_that_." + +He took it, scrutinizing it, puzzled, through his glasses. Every one of +us except Miss Maitland, all standing now, craned forward to see. It was +a pointed pink thing about as big as the end of my little finger. The +Chief touched it and said: + +"It looks like a small rose." + +"Yes, a chiffon rosebud," Mrs. Price cried, "and she," pointing to Miss +Maitland, "wore a dress that night trimmed with them." + +We all turned, as if we were a piece of mechanism worked by the same +spring, and stared at Miss Maitland. She sat in the chair, not moving, +looking straight before her, weary and indifferent. The Chief held out +toward her the piece of paper with the rose on the middle of it. + +"Have you a dress trimmed with these?" + +She moved her eyes so they rested on the rose, ran her tongue along her +lips and said: + +"Yes." + +"Did you wear it on the night of the robbery?" + +"Yes." + +"Did you hear what Mrs. Price has just said?" + +"Yes." + +"What explanation do you make?" + +"None--except that I don't know how it got there." + +"You deny that you were there yourself that night?" + +"Yes--I was never near the safe that night; I haven't the slightest idea +how the rose came to be in it; I never took the jewels; I have had +nothing to do with Bbita's disappearance; I haven't done any of the +things you think I've done. But what's the good of my saying so--what's +the good of answering at all?" She dropped her face into her hands, her +elbows propped on her knees. The attitude, the tone of her voice, +everything about her, suggested an "Oh-what's-the-use!" feeling. From +behind her hands the words came dull and listless. "Do anything you like +with me; it doesn't make any difference. You think you've got me +cornered; that being the case, I'll do whatever you say." + +Mrs. Janney made a step toward her: + +"Miss Maitland, I'll agree to let the whole matter drop--hush it up and +let you go without a word--if you'll tell us where Bbita is." + +Without moving her hands the girl answered: + +"I can't tell, for I don't know." + +Mrs. Price sank into her chair with a loud, sobbing wail. Some one took +her away--Mr. George, I think. Then Mr. Janney had his say: + +"If you're doing this to protect Price--" + +She cut him off with a laugh, at least it was meant to be a laugh, but +it was a horrible, harsh sound. As she gave it she lifted her head and +cast a look at him, bitter and defiant: + +"Protect him! I've no more desire to protect Mr. Price than I have to +protect myself." + +The Chief's voice fell deep as the church bell at a funeral: + +"If you maintain this attitude, Miss Maitland, there's nothing for us to +do but let the law take its course. Theft and kidnaping! Those are +pretty serious charges." + +She nodded: + +"I suppose they are. Let the law do whatever it wants; I'm certainly not +standing in its way. But as for bribing and frightening me into +admitting what isn't true, you can't do it. All your money," she looked +at Mrs. Janney and then at the Chief, "and all _your_ threats won't +influence me or make me change one word of what I've said." + +No one spoke for a minute. She sat silent, her chin on her hands, her +eyes staring past them out of the window. I had a feeling that in spite +of the position she was in and what they had on her, in a sort of way +she had them beaten. Their faces were glum and baffled, even the Chief +had an abstracted expression like he was thinking what he ought to do +with her. When he spoke it was to the Janneys: + +"Since Miss Maitland persists in her present pose of ignorance and +denial, the best thing for us is to get together and decide on our +course of action." He glanced across at me. "We'll leave you here, +Molly. Stay till we come back." + +Away they went, a solemn procession, trailing across the room. When the +door into the main office opened I could hear Mrs. Price crying, and I +watched them, catching Mrs. Janney's words as she disappeared: "Oh, +Suzanne, my poor, poor, girl! Don't give up--don't be discouraged--we'll +find her!" + +It gripped me, made a sort of prickling come in my nose and a twisty +feeling in my under lip. I never could have believed that stern old +Roman could have spoken so tender and loving to any one. + +When I looked at Miss Maitland I forgot all about suffering mothers. +She'd sunk down in the chair, her head resting against its back, her +eyes closed. She was as white as a corpse, and I wheeled about looking +round the room for some kind of first aid and muttering, "Gee, she's +fainted!" + +A whisper came out of her lips: + +"Nothing--all right--in a minute." + +There was a bottle of distilled water in a corner and I went to it, drew +off a glass and brought it to her. She couldn't hold it and I took her +round the shoulders and pulled her up, saying out of the inner depths of +me, that's always mushy about anything hurt and forlorn: + +"You, poor soul, here take this. I'm sorry for you, and I can't help +being sorry that I had to give you away." + +I held the glass to her lips and she drank a little. Then I let her fall +back and stood watching her, and I felt mean. She raised her eyes and +sent a look into mine that I'll never forget--it made me feel meaner +than a yellow dog--for it was the look of a suffering soul. + +"Thanks," was all she said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI--SIGNED "CLANSMEN" + + +The consultation in the office resulted in Esther Maitland being taken +to O'Malley's flat in Stuyvesant Square, where his wife and sister +agreed to be responsible for her. This course had been decided upon +after some heated argument. Suzanne had clamored for her arrest, but the +others were still determined to keep the affair out of the public eye, +which, if Esther was brought before a magistrate, would have been +impossible. The Janneys were more than ever convinced that Price was the +prime mover, and the girl's attitude had been prompted by the combined +motives of love and gain. George, who knew his father's every phase, +noticed that the old man was reserved in his comments, and wondered if +his conviction had been shaken by Miss Maitland's desperate denials. But +if it was he said nothing, agreeing that with the girl hidden and unable +to communicate with the outside world, they could concentrate their +attention on Chapman and through him locate the child. + +Miss Maitland was docile to all their suggestions. She would go wherever +they wanted, place herself under the surveillance of the two women, and +do whatever was asked of her. She went off in a taxi with O'Malley, and +Molly was sent back to Grasslands. There was no need of her services in +town and it was probable that Chapman, believing his confederate to be +there, would call up the place. + +The Janney party returned to the hotel, a silent, gloomy trio. The old +people were very gentle to Suzanne. On the drive up, Mrs. Janney held +her in the hollow of her arm, pressed close, yearning over her in her +shame and sorrow and feebleness. To the strong woman she was a child +again, a soft, helpless thing. The mother blamed herself for having been +hard on her. + +After lunch old Sam suggested a drive--the air would do them good. They +tried to persuade Suzanne to come, but the young woman, prone on the +sofa, a salts bottle at hand, refused to stir. She wanted to be quiet; +she wanted to rest. So, knowing the uselessness of argument, they kissed +her and went. + +Alone, she lay on her back staring at the wall in a trance-like +concentration. Her expression did not suggest the state of crushed shame +under which her parents thought she languished. In fact her past actions +had no place in her mind; she had forgotten her confession in the +office. An idea, formidable and obsessing, had taken possession of her, +settled on her like a shadow. It was possible that their conclusions +were wrong. + +She had had it from the start, off and on, coming at her in rushes of +disintegrating doubt. She had said nothing about it, had tried to force +it down, and, talking to them, had been reassured by their unquestioning +certainty. Now the scene in the office had strengthened it--something +about Esther Maitland, she didn't know what. She had assured herself +then--she tried to do it now--that there could be no mistake, they had +proofs, the girl hadn't been able to explain anything. But she could not +argue it away; it persisted, stronger than thought, power or will, +unescapable like the horror of a dream. + +It came from an instinct that kept whispering deep down in the recesses +of her being, "Chapman couldn't have done it." She knew him better than +the others did, the vagaries of his ugly temper, the lines his +weaknesses ran upon. She knew him through and through, to what lengths +anger might urge him, what he could do when aroused and what he never +could do. And trying to convince herself of his guilt, marshaling the +facts against him, going over them point by point, she couldn't make +herself believe that he had stolen Bbita. + +And if he hadn't, then where was she? + +This was the hideous thought, pressing in upon her recognition, +intrusive as Banquo's ghost and as terrible. She writhed under its +torment, twisting and turning until her clothes were wound about her in +a tangled coil, moaning as her imagination touched at and recoiled from +grisly possibilities. + +She was lying thus when the door-bell rang. Glad of any interruption she +sat up, and, swinging her feet to the floor, called out a sharp "Come +in." A bell-boy entered with a letter which he presented with the +information that Mr. Janney had ordered all mail to be brought +immediately to the rooms. The letter was for her, addressed in +typewriting, and as the boy withdrew she rose, heavy-eyed and +heavy-headed, and tore open the envelope. The first line brought a thin, +choked cry out of her, and then she stood motionless, her glance +devouring the words. Dated the day before, typewritten on a single sheet +of commercial paper, it ran as follows: + + "Mrs. Suzanne Price, + + "_Dear Madam:_ + + "We have your little girl. She is safe with us and will continue + to be if you act in good faith and accede to our demands. We + frankly state that our object in taking her was ransom and we + are now ready to enter upon negotiations with you. This, + however, only upon certain conditions. All transactions between + us must be conducted with absolute secrecy. If any member of + your family is told, if the police are notified, be assured that + we will know it, and that it will react upon your child. Let it + be clearly understood--if you inform against us, if you make an + attempt to trap or apprehend us, she will pay the price. We hold + her as a hostage; her fate is in your hands. If, however, you + know of a person in no wise involved or connected with you or + your family, having no personal interest in the matter, and of + whose discretion and reliability you are convinced, we are + willing to deal through them. Copy the form below, fill in blank + spaces with name and address and insert in _Daily Record_ + personals. + + "(Name).................................. + + "(Address)............................... + + "S. O. S. + + "_Clansmen._" + +Suzanne's hand holding the paper dropped to her side and she looked +about the room with eyes vacant and unseeing. All her outward forces +were shocked into temporary suspension; for a moment she had no +realization of where or who she was. The letter was the only fact she +recognized and sentences from it chased through her consciousness: "We +hold her as a hostage, her fate is in your hands. She is safe with us if +you accede to our demands." She saw them written on the walls, they +boomed in her ears like notes of doom. It was confirmation of that +instinct she had tried to smother; like the wand of a baleful genii it +had transformed her nightmare fancies into sinister reality. + +She felt a shriek rising to her lips and pressed her hand against them. +Secrecy, silence, her stunned brain had grasped that and directed her +restraining hand. Then the one deep feeling of her shallow nature called +her shattered faculties into order. Love lent her power, steadied her, +gave her the will to act. + +She sat down on the sofa and read the letter again, slowly, getting its +full significance. For the first time in her life responsibility was +cast upon her; she could throw the burden on no one else. By her own +efforts, by her own courage and initiative, she must get Bbita back. +She whispered it over, "I must do it. I must do it myself," then fell +silent, her face stony in its tension of thought. Suddenly its rigidity +broke; in an illuminating flash she saw the first step clear, and rising +ran to the telephone. The person she called up was Larkin. He answered +himself and she told him she wanted to see him on a matter of great +importance and would come at once to his office. + +Fifteen minutes later, her face hidden by a chiffon veil, her rumpled +smartness covered with a silk motor coat, she was knocking at his door. + +Mr. Larkin's office was cool and shady, the blinds half lowered to keep +out the glare of the afternoon sun. In the midst of its airy neatness, +surrounded by an imposing array of desks, card cabinets, typewriters and +files, Mr. Larkin was waiting alone for his important client. + +She dropped into the chair he set for her, and, pushing up her veil, +revealed a countenance so bereft of the petulant prettiness he knew, +that he started and stood gazing in open concern. The sight of his +astonishment caused the tears to well into Suzanne's eyes, drowned and +sunken by past floods, and her story to break without prelude from her +lips. + +Larkin's surprise at her appearance gave place to a tight-gripped +interest when he grasped the main fact of her narrative. He let her run +through it without interruption nodding now and then, a frowning +sidelong glance on her face. + +When she had finished he drew a deep breath and said: + +"The moment I saw you, I knew something was wrong. But this--" he raised +his hands and let them drop on the desk--"Good Lord! I hadn't an idea it +was anything so serious." + +But she hadn't finished--the worst, the thing that had brought her--she +had yet to tell. And she began about the letter received an hour ago. At +that Larkin forgot his sympathies, was the detective again, hardly +concealing his impatience as he watched her fumbling at the cords of her +purse. Finally extracted and given to him he read it, once and then +again, Suzanne eyeing him like a hungry dog. + +"Last evening," he muttered after a scrutiny of the postmark, "Grand +Central Station." Then he rose, went to the window and, jerking up the +blind, held the paper against the light, sniffed at it, and felt its +texture between his thumb and finger. Suzanne saw him shake his head, +her avid glance following him as he came back to the desk and studied +the sheet through a magnifying glass. + +"Nothing to be got that way," he said. "Typepaper--impossible to trace. +No amateur business about this." + +Suzanne's voice was husky: + +"Do you mean it's professional people--a gang?" + +"I can't say exactly. But from what you tell me--the way it was +accomplished, the plan of action--I should be inclined to think it was +the work of more than one person--possibly a group--who had ability and +experience." + +Suzanne, clutching at the corner of the desk with a trembling hand, +cried in her misery: + +"Oh, Mr. Larkin, you don't think they'll hurt her. They wouldn't _dare_ +to hurt her?" + +The detective's glance was kindly but grave: + +"Mrs. Price, I'll speak frankly. I think your child is in the hands of a +pretty desperate person or persons. But I have no apprehension that +they'll do her any harm. They don't want to do that--it's too dangerous. +What they might do if their plans fail is a thing we'll not +consider--it'll only weaken your nerve. And that's what you've got to +keep hold of. You'll get her back all right, but you must be cool and +brave." + +"I'll be anything; I'll be like another person. I'll _do_ anything. No +one need be afraid I'll be weak or silly _now_." + +"Good--that's the way to talk. Now let me know a little about the way +the situation stands. It's odd I've seen nothing about this in the +papers--heard nothing. Your family must be active in some direction. +What are they doing?" + +A sudden color burnt in her wasted cheeks. + +"They suspect my husband. They think he did it--to--to--get square. We'd +quarreled--separated--and he'd made threats." + +"Ah, yes, yes, I see--kidnaped his own child, and they're keeping it +quiet. I understand perfectly. But _you_ didn't believe this?" + +She shook her head and bit on her underlip to control its trembling. + +"No--I couldn't, though I tried to. I knew he wouldn't have done +it--it's not--it's not--like him. And then while I was thinking the +letter came, and I knew, no matter what they thought, no matter what the +facts were, that _that_ was true." + +"Um," Larkin, his mouth compressed, nodded in understanding. "You would +know better than any one else. In these matters instinct is one of the +most important factors." He was silent for a moment, then looked at her, +a glance of piercing question. "Do I understand that you are willing to +enter into these negotiations?" + +"Willing!" she cried. "Why should I be here if I wasn't willing?" + +"Yes, yes, exactly, but let us understand one another. What I mean is +are you willing--realizing what they are--to deal with them on their own +terms? In short, pay them what they ask and let them go?" + +"Of course." She almost cried it out in her effort to make him +comprehend her position. "_That's_ what I want to do; that's why I +haven't told any of my own people and won't. I'd have gone straight to +my mother with this but I knew she wouldn't agree to it, she'd get the +police, want to fight them and bring them to justice." + +"Could you be relied on to maintain the secrecy necessary?" + +"I can be relied on for anything. Oh, Mr. Larkin, if you knew what I +feel you wouldn't waste time asking these questions." + +He answered very gently: + +"Mrs. Price, I appreciate your feelings to the full, but this is a +hazardous undertaking. You don't want to rush into it without realizing +what it means. There is the question of money for example--the ransom. +Your family is known for its wealth. You can be pretty certain that the +parties you're dealing with will hold the child for a large sum." + +Suzanne clasped her hands on her breast and the tears, brimming in her +eyes, spilled over, falling in a trickle down her cheeks. + +"Oh, what's money!" she wailed. "I'd give all the money I have, I've +ever had, I ever thought of having, to get my baby back." + +Larkin was moved. He looked away from that pitiful, quivering face and +his voice showed a slight huskiness as he answered: + +"Well, that's all right, Mrs. Price--and don't take it so hard, don't +let your fears get the upper hand. There's no harm can come to her; it's +to their interest to take care of her. If we do our part cleverly, +follow their instructions and keep our heads, you'll have her back in no +time." He stopped, arrested by a sudden thought. "I say 'we,' but maybe +I'm presupposing too much. Was it your intention to ask for my +assistance?" + +She dashed her tears away and leaned forward in eager urgence: + +"Of course--that's why I came. And you will give it--you will? The +letter says it has to be some one having no ties or interests with the +family--some one I could trust. I couldn't think of any one at first, +and then when I remembered you it was like an inspiration. Oh, you must +do it--I'll pay you anything if you will." + +Larkin's face satisfied her; she dropped back with a moan of relief. + +"I'll undertake it willingly--not only to give you any help I can, but +because it will be a good thing for me. Don't be shocked at my plain +speaking, but I want to be frank and straight with you. I'm not +referring to pay--we can arrange about that later--it's work done for +the Janney family, successful work. And with your coperation, Mrs. +Price, this is going to be successful. Now let's get to business." He +picked up the letter and glanced over it. "Headed 'Clansmen' and signed +'S. O. S.' I'll copy it, insert my name and address, and have it in +to-morrow's _Daily Record_. Then we'll see what happens." + +He smiled at her, reassuring and kindly. There was no response in her +tragic face. + +"It may be days before they answer," she murmured. + +But he was determined to uphold her fainting spirit. + +"I think not. They want to end this thing as quickly as they can--get +their loot and go. You've got to remember that their position is +terribly dangerous and at the first sign from us they'll get busy." + +She rose, took the letter and put it in her purse: + +"I hope to Heaven you're right. It's so awful to wait." + +"I don't think you'll have to. They'll see our answer to-morrow morning +and I'll expect a move from them by that evening or the next day. If +they communicate with me, I'll let you know at once, and if you hear, do +the same by me. It's going to be all right. Keep up your courage and +remember--not a word or a sign to any one." + +"Oh, I know," she said, drawing down her veil with limp hands, "you +needn't be afraid I'll spoil it. You thought me a fool, perhaps, when I +first consulted you, and I _was_, bothering about things that didn't +matter--jewels! There isn't one of us that hasn't forgotten all about +them now. Good-by. No, don't come out with me. I have a taxi waiting." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII--SUZANNE FINDS A FRIEND + + +On Monday evening Ferguson heard from Molly of the scene in the Whitney +office. He was incredulous and enraged, refusing to accept what she +insisted were irrefutable proofs of Esther's guilt. + +"What do I care about your 'phone messages and your suppositions!" he +had almost shouted at her. "What do I care about what you _think_. You +say she didn't answer the charges--she did, she denied them. That's +enough for me." + +There was no use arguing with him, he was beyond reason. She lapsed into +silence, letting him rage on, seething in his wrath at the Janneys, the +Whitneys, herself. When he tried to find out where Esther was, she was +obdurate--_that_ she couldn't tell him. All the satisfaction he got was +that Miss Maitland was not under arrest, that she was "put away +somewhere" and had agreed to the arrangement. He left, too angry for +good-nights, with a last scattering of maledictions, leaping down the +steps and swinging off across the garden. + +The next morning he telephoned in to the St. Boniface Hotel and heard +that the Janney party were out. Then he tried the Whitney office, got +George on the wire, and was told brusquely that Miss Maitland's +whereabouts could not be divulged to any one. He spent the rest of the +day in a state of morose disquiet, denying himself to visitors, short +and surly with his servants. Willitts was solicitous, inquired after his +health and was told to go to the devil. In the kitchen quarters they +talked about his queer behavior; the butler was afraid he'd had "a touch +of sun." + +Wednesday wore through to the early afternoon and his inaction became +unendurable. He decided to go into town, look up the Janneys and force +them to tell him where Esther was. He laid upon his spirit a cautioning +charge of self-control; he must keep his head and his temper, use +strategy before coercion. He had no idea of what he intended doing when +he did find her, but the idea of getting to her, seeing her, championing +her, transformed his moody restlessness into a savage energy. His +servants flew before his commands; in the garage the chauffeur muttered +angrily as orders to hurry were shouted at him from the drive. + +Tuesday had been a day of strain for the Janneys. According to the +telephone message, that night Chapman was to move the child from the +city. He had been under a close surveillance for the two preceding days, +and every depot and ferry housed watching detectives. Hope ran high +until after midnight when reports and 'phone messages came dropping in +upon the group congregated in the library of the Whitney house. No child +resembling Bbita had left the city at any of the guarded points. +Chapman had been in his office all day, had dined at a hotel and +afterward had gone to his rooms and remained there. The plan of moving +her had either been abandoned or had been intrusted to unknown parties +who had taken her by motor through the city's northern end. + +On Wednesday morning a consultation had been held at the Whitney office. +This had been stormy, developing the first disagreements in what had +been a unity of opinion. Mr. Janney was for going to Chapman and +demanding the child and was seconded by the elder Whitney. Mrs. Janney +was in opposition. She had no fear for Bbita's welfare--Chapman could +be trusted to care for her--and maintained that a direct appeal to him +would be an admission of weakness and place them at his mercy. In her +opinion he would threaten exposure--he was shameless--or make an offer +of a financial settlement. George agreed with her; from the start he had +thought Chapman was actuated less by a desire for vengeance than a hope +of gain. Mrs. Janney, thus backed up, became adamant. She would have no +dealings with him, would run him to earth, and when he was caught, crush +and ruin him. + +Suzanne had listened to it all very silent and taking neither side. Her +hunted air was set down to mental strain and she was allowed to remain +an unconsulted spectator, treated by everybody with subdued gentleness. +Back in the hotel, Mrs. Janney had suggested a doctor, but her querulous +pleadings to be let alone had conquered, and the old people had gone for +their afternoon drive, leaving her in the curtained quietness of the +sitting room. + +The door was hardly shut on them when she drew out of her belt a letter. +She had found it in her room on her return from the office and had read +it there before lunch. It was a prompter answer than she had dared to +hope for. + + "Mrs. Suzanne Price, + + "_Dear Madam_: + + "In answer to your ad. we would say that we are willing to deal + through the agent you name. We take your word for it that he is + to be trusted, that both you and he understand any attempt to + betray us will be visited on your child. + + "_Remember Charley Ross!_ + + "The sum necessary for her release will be thirty thousand + dollars. On payment of this we will deliver her over at a time + and place to be specified later. If you agree to our terms + insert following ad. in the _Daily Record_. 'John--O. K. See you + later. Mary.' + + "(Signed) _Clansmen_." + +On the second perusal of this ominous document Suzanne felt the +strangling rush of dread, the breathless contraction of the heart, that +had seized her when she first read it. Horrors had piled on horrors--as +she had risen to each new step of her progress up this Via Dolorosa, +another more fearful and unsurmountable had faced her. When she had +spoken to Larkin of the money she had never thought of it, how much it +might be, how she was to get it. Now, with a stunning impact, she was +brought against the appalling fact that she had none of her own and did +not dare ask her mother for any. + +There was no use in lies; she had lied too much and too diversely to be +believed. She would have to tell what it was for, and she knew the mood +in which her mother would meet the demand. Money would be +forthcoming--any amount--but Mrs. Janney, with her iron nerve and her +implacable spirit, would never consent to a tame submission. Suzanne +knew that her fortune and her energies would be spent in an effort to +apprehend the criminals, and Suzanne had not the courage to take a +chance. All she wanted was Bbita, back in her arms again, the fiends +who had taken her could go free. + +She sat down, pushing the damp hair from her forehead and trying to +think. One fact stood out in the midst of her blind, confused suffering. +She could not go to Larkin till she had the thirty thousand dollars. +Every moment she sat there was a moment lost, a moment added to Bbita's +term of imprisonment. She stared about the room, the gleam of her +shifting eyes, the rise and fall of her breast, the only movements in +her stone-still figure. + +Suddenly, piercing her tense preoccupation with a buzzing note, came the +sound of the telephone. It made her jump, then mechanically, hardly +conscious of her action, she rose to answer it. A woman's voice, +languidly nasal, came along the wire: + +"Mr. Richard Ferguson is calling." + +"Send him up," she gasped and fumbled back the receiver with a shaking +hand. With the other she steadied herself against the wall; the room had +swung for a moment, blurred before her vision. She closed her eyes and +breathed out her relief in a moaning exhalation. It was like an answer +to prayer, like the finger of God. + +Of course Dick was the person--Dick who could always be trusted, who +could always understand. He would give it and say nothing; she could +make him. He was not like the others--he would sympathize, would agree +with her, in trouble he was a rock to cling to. A broken series of +answers to unput questions coursed through her head; she could go to +Larkin now--she needn't tell him how she'd got it, he thought she was +rich--after it was all over her mother would pay Dick back--in a few +days she'd have Bbita, the kidnapers would have made their escape--and +it would be all right, all right, all right! + +Ferguson had come up, grim-visaged, steeled for battle, but when he saw +her his fighting spirit died. There was nothing left of her but a +blighted shadow, the cloud of golden hair crowning in gay mockery her +drawn and haggard face. Before he could speak she made a clutch at his +arm, drawing him into the room, babbling a broken greeting about wanting +him, wanting his help. He put his hand on hers and felt it trembling; he +would not have been surprised if she had dropped unconscious at his +feet. + +"Lord, Suzanne, you don't want to take it this way," he soothed, guiding +her to the sofa. "You must get hold of yourself; you've been brooding +too much. Of course I'll help you--anything I can do--and we'll get her +back, it'll be only a few days." He didn't know what to say, he was so +sorry for her. + +She was past parleys and preliminaries, past coquetry and artifice. The +whole of her had resolved itself into one raw longing, and before they +were seated on the sofa, she had broken into her story. He didn't at +first believe her, thought grief had unsettled her brain, but when she +thrust the two letters into his hand all doubts left him. + +He read them slowly, word by word, then turned upon her a face so +charged and vitalized with a fierce interest that, had she been able to +see beyond the circle of her own pain, she would have wondered. If he +forgot to ask for Esther's hiding place it was because the larger matter +of her vindication had swept all else from his mind. The proofs of her +innocence were in his hands; he did not for a moment doubt their +genuineness. + +It was what he had thought from the first. + +His manner changed from that of the sympathizing friend to one of stern +authority. He shot questions at her, tabulating her answers, discarding +cumbering detail, seizing on the important fact and separating it from +the jumble of confused impressions and fancies that she poured out. A +few inquiries set Larkin's position clear before him. The money he +dismissed with a curt sentence; of course he would give it, she wasn't +to think of that any more. + +"Thank heaven you decided on me," he said. "I'll straighten this out for +you and I'll do it quick." + +She was ready to take fright at anything and his eagerness scared her. + +"But you'll not do anything they don't want? You'll not tell the police +or try to catch them?" + +He had seen from the start that she was dominated by terror, as the +kidnapers had intended she should be: and seeing this had recognized her +as a negligible factor. To keep her quiet, soothe her fears, and employ +her services just so far as they were helpful was what he had to do with +her. What he had to do without her was shaping itself in his mind. + +"You can rely on me. I won't make any breaks. And _you_ have to be +careful, not a word about me to this man Larkin. He must think the money +is yours." + +She assured him of her discretion and he felt he could trust her that +far. + +"Now listen," he said slowly and impressively as if he was speaking to a +child, "we've both got to go very charily. A good deal of the +threat-stuff in these letters is bluff, but also men who would undertake +an enterprise of this kind are pretty tough customers and we don't want +to take any risks. When I'm gone you drive over to Larkin's, tell him +you have the money for the ransom, and to put in the ad. As soon as +either you or he get an answer let me know. I'll be at Council Oaks; +I'll go back there now. It's probable you're watched and if they saw me +hanging about here they might think I was in the game and take fright. +Do you understand?" + +She nodded: + +"Yes, you've put some courage into me. I was ready to die when you came +in." + +"Well, that's over now. What you've got to do is to follow my +instructions, keep your nerve and have a little patience." + +He smiled down at her as she sat, a huddled heap of finery, on the edge +of the sofa. She tried to return the smile, a grimace of the lips that +did not touch her somber eyes. No man, least of all Dick Ferguson, could +have been angry with her. + +"She was crazy," he said to himself as he walked down the hall. "They +were all crazy and I guess they had enough to make them so. I'll get the +child back, and when I do, I'll make them bite the dust before my girl." + +Several people who knew him saw Dick Ferguson driving his black car down +Fifth Avenue late that afternoon. He saw none of them, steering his way +through the traffic, his eyes fixed on the vista in front. He stopped at +Delmonico's for an early dinner, telling the waiter to bring him +anything that was ready, then sat with frowning brows staring at his +plate. Here again were people who knew him and wondered at his gloomy +abstraction--not a bit like Ferguson, must have something on his mind. + +Night was falling as he crossed the Queensborough bridge, a smoldering +glow along the west glazing the surface of the river. When he left the +straggling outskirts of Brooklyn and reached the open country the dark +had come, deep and velvety, a few bright star points pricking through +the cope of the sky. He lowered his speed, his glance roving ahead to +the road and its edging grasses, startlingly clear under the radiance of +his lamps. + +Round him the country brooded in its rest, silence lying on the pale +surface of fields, on the black indistinctness of trees. Here and there +the lights of farms shone, caught and lost through shielding boughs, and +the clustered sparklings of villages. The air was heavy with scents, the +breath of clover knee-high in the grass, grain still giving off the +warmth of the afternoon sun, and the delicate sweetness of the wild +grape draped over the roadside trees. All this night loveliness in its +fragrant quietness, its rich and penetrating beauty, reminded him of +her. He looked up at the sky, and its calm and steadfast splendor came +to him with a new meaning. She was related to it all, in tune with the +eternal harmonies, part of everything that was stainless and noble and +pure. And he would show the world that she was, clear her of every spot, +place her where she would be as far from suspicion, as serenely above +the meanness of her accusers, as the stars in the crystal depths of the +sky. + +When he reached Council Oaks he had a vision of her, belonging there, a +piece of its life. He saw a future, when, coming back like this to its +friendly doors, she would be waiting on the balcony to greet him. There +was no one there now; the house was still, its lights shining across the +pebbled drive. Obsessed by his thoughts, he jumped out, and leaving the +car at the steps, entered. From the kitchen wing he could hear the +servants' voices raised in cheerful clamor. Crossing the hall, he had a +glimpse through the dining room door of the table, set and waiting for +him, two lamps flanking his place. He had no mind for food and went +upstairs, dreams still holding him. In his room he switched on the +lights and his vacant glance, sweeping the bureau, brought up on the box +with the crystal lid. + +In his mind the robbery had faded into a background of inconsequential +things. It had become a side issue, a thread in the tangled skein he had +pledged himself to unravel. When Molly had told him of the evidence +against Esther his interest had centered on the charge of kidnaping--the +monstrous and unbelievable charge of which she almost stood convicted. +Even now, as he looked at the box and remembered what he had hidden +there, it came to his memory not as another weapon to be used in her +defense, but as a souvenir of the moment when his present passion had +flamed into life. A picture rose of that night, the silver moon +spatterings, her hand, white in the white light, with the band on its +third finger. He opened the box to take it out--it was not there. + +He had seen it a few days before, was certain he had, shook up the +contents, then overturned the box, strewing the studs and pins on the +bureau. But it was fruitless--the band, crushed and flattened as he +remembered it, was gone. He muttered an angry phrase, its loss came as a +jar on the exaltation of his mood. Then a soft step on the staircase +caught his ear, and looking up he saw Willitts' head rise into view. The +man came down the passage and spoke with his customary quiet deference: + +"I saw the car outside, sir, and knew you'd come back. Would you like +dinner--the cook says she can have it ready in a minute?" + +"No," Ferguson's voice was short, "I dined in town. Look here, I've lost +something--" he pointed to the scattered jewelry--"I had a cigar band in +that box and it's gone. Did you see it?" + +Willitts looked at the box and shook his head: + +"No, sir. A cigar band, a thing made of paper?" There was the faintest +suggestion of surprise in his voice. + +"Yes, you must have seen it. It was there a few days ago, underneath all +that truck--I saw it myself." + +The man again shook his head and, moving to the bureau, began to shift +the toilet articles and look among them. + +"I'm afraid I didn't see it, sir, or if I did I didn't notice. Maybe +it's got strayed away somewhere." + +He continued his search, Ferguson watching him with moody irritation: + +"What the devil could have happened to it? I put it in there myself, put +it in that particular place for safekeeping." + +Willitts, feeling about the bureau with careful fingers, said: + +"Was it of any _value_, sir?" + +"Yes," Ferguson having little hope of finding it turned away and threw +himself into a chair, "it was of great value. I wouldn't have lost it +for anything. It was evidence--" he stopped, growling a smothered +"Damn." He had said enough; he didn't want the servants chattering. + +"I'm very sorry, sir, but it doesn't seem to be here. Perhaps the +chambermaid threw it away, thinking it had got in the box by mistake." + +"I daresay--it sounds likely. I wish the people in this house would let +my room alone, control their mad desire for neatness and leave things +where I put them. Have the car taken to the garage, I'm not coming down +again. If any one calls up I'm out. Good-night." + +"Good-night, sir," said Willitts, and softly withdrew. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII--MOLLY'S STORY + + +After that Monday night when he went off in a rage, Ferguson didn't show +up at Grasslands for several days and I had the place to myself and all +the time I wanted. Believe me, I wanted a lot and made use of it. While +the others were concentrating on the kidnaping--the big thing that had +absorbed all their interest--I went back to the job I was engaged for, +the robbery. And I went back with a fresh eye, the old idea cleared out +of my head by Mrs. Price's confession. + +She'd explained the light, the light by the safe at one-thirty. With +that out of the way, I could get busy on the cigar band. I was just +aching to do it, for, as I'd told Ferguson, it was an A1 starting point. +Given that, there's nothing more exciting in the world than tracking up +from it, following different leads, seeing if they'll dovetail, putting +bits together like a picture puzzle. + +So I started in and for two days collected data, ferreted into the +movements of every person on the place, gossiped round in the village, +picked up a bit here and a scrap there, and made notes at night in my +room. I broke down Dixon's dignity and had a long talk with him; I got +Ellen to show me how to knit a sweater and before I'd learnt had her +inside out. I spent two hours and broke my best scissors spoiling the +lock of the bookcase in my room and had Isaac up to try keys on it. When +I was done I knew the movements of everybody in the house on the night +of July seventh as if I'd personally conducted each one through that +important and exciting evening. + +It wasn't love of the work alone, or the feeling that I ought to earn my +salary, that pushed me on. There was something else--I wanted to clear +Esther Maitland. I wanted it bad. I kept thinking of her eyes looking at +me when I gave her the drink of water and it made me sort of sick. In my +thoughts I kept telling my husband about it, and I always tried to make +out I'd acted very smart and some way or other I knew he wouldn't think +so. It wasn't that I felt guilty--I'd done nothing but what I was hired +for--but there's a meanness about beating a person down, there's a +meanness about staring into their white, twisted face and saying, +"Ha--Ha--you're cornered and I did it!" You have to be awfully good +yourself to do that sort of thing. + +Thursday morning I'd got all I could and with my notes and my fountain +pen I went out on the side piazza by Miss Maitland's study; there was a +table there and it was quiet and secluded. So I fixed everything +convenient and set to work. Taking the cigar band as the central point I +built up from it something like this: + +It had been dropped by a man--so few women smoke cigars you could put +that down as certain. It had been dropped between half-past eight when +the storm stopped and half-past ten when Miss Maitland found it. The man +could not be Mr. Janney who had driven both ways, nor Dixon or Isaac who +had walked to the village by the road and come back the same route. It +couldn't have been Otto the chauffeur as he had stayed at Ferguson's +garage visiting there with Ferguson's men. The head gardener had gone to +the movies with the other Grasslands servants, and the under gardeners +had been in their own homes in the village as I had taken pains to find +out. Therefore it was no man living on the place at that time. + +But that it was some one who was familiar with the house and its +interior workings was proved by two facts:--that the dogs, heard to +start barking, had suddenly quieted down, and that a rose from Miss +Maitland's dress had been found inside the safe. + +An expert burglar could have got round all the rest, had a key to the +front door, worked out the combination--the house was virtually empty +for over two hours--it was known that the family and servants were out. +But the most expert burglar in the world couldn't have controlled those +dogs--Mrs. Price's Airdale was as savage to strangers as a wolf and had +a bark on it like a steam calliope. + +The rose figured as a proof this way: It had been put inside the safe to +throw suspicion on Miss Maitland, the thief was aware that she knew the +combination. This would argue that he was acquainted with the habits of +the household. All social secretaries are not given the leeway Miss +Maitland was; all social secretaries aren't given the combination of a +safe where two hundred thousand dollars' worth of jewels are kept. The +man knew she had it, and tried to fix the guilt on her. Where his plan +slipped up was Mrs. Price coming later, finding the rose, salting it +down in a piece of tissue paper, and, for some reason of her own, not +saying a word about it. + +How did he get the rose? As far as I could see there was just one way. +Esther Maitland had spent part of the afternoon of July the seventh +altering her evening dress. Ellen had pinned it up on her and she'd +taken the waist down to her study to sew on as her room was too hot. +When she'd gone upstairs again--it was Ellen who gave me all this--she'd +left part of the trimming on the desk. The next morning the parlor maid +had given it to Ellen--all cut and picked apart, some of the roses loose +in a cardboard box--to put in Miss Maitland's room. It had lain on the +desk all night and, in my opinion, the thief had either known it was +there or found it, taken the rose, and made his "plant" with it. + +Now one man who would be familiar to the dogs and might know Miss +Maitland's privileges and habits, was Chapman Price. But it wasn't he, +for at nine-thirty, the hour when the thief was busy, Mr. Price was +crossing the Queensborough bridge, headed for New York. And anyway, if +he hadn't been, you couldn't suspect him of trying to lay the blame on +the girl who was his partner. No--Chapman Price was wiped off the map +with all the rest of the Grasslands crowd. + +When I'd got this far I sat biting my pen handle and sizing it up. A +thief, professional, had taken the jewels. He was some one unknown, +having no connection with Mr. Price or Miss Maitland. The two crimes +that had nearly shaken the Janney family off its throne had been +committed by different parties. I was as sure of that as that the sun +would rise to-morrow. + +After dinner that evening I went out on the balcony and sat there, +turning it all over in my head, and looking at the woods, black-edged +and solid against the night sky. It was very still, not a breath, and +presently, off across the garden, I heard the gravel crunch under a +foot, a soft padding on the grass, and then a long, lean figure came +into the brightness that shot out across the drive from the hall behind +me--Ferguson. + +He dropped down on the top step, settled his back against one of the +roof posts, and took out a cigarette case. He was right where the light +shone on him, and I could see he had a serious, glum look which made me +think he still "had a mad on me" as they say on the east side. That +didn't trouble me; people getting mad when they've a reason to never +does, and he'd reason enough, poor dear. + +Puffing out a long shoot of smoke, he said: + +"I've come over to speak to you about that idea of mine--that cigar band +I told you about." + +"Oh," I answered, "you've got round to that, have you?" + +"I have, or perhaps you might say half way around." + +"Well, I'm the whole way. I've spent three days getting there." + +"I thought you'd beat me to it. What have you arrived at?" + +"The certainty that the man who dropped the band was the thief." + +"We're agreed at last. Have you gone far enough round to come to a +suspect?" + +"No, I'm stuck there." + +He blew out a ring, watched it float away into the darkness and said: + +"So am I. But I've a small, single compartment brain that can't +accommodate more than one idea at a time. And it's busy just now in +another direction. If you'll put that forty horse-power one of yours on +this we ought to get round the whole way." He glanced sideways at me, +his eyes full of meaning. "You'll find I can be a very grateful person." + +"Gratitude's a kind of pay I like." + +"Yes--it's stimulating and it can take more than one form." He flung +away the cigarette, leaned back against the post and said: "The worst of +it is that our main exhibit, the cigar band, is gone. I looked for it +last night and found it was lost." + +"Lost!" I sat up quick. He'd told me where he kept it and right off I +thought it was funny. "Gone out of that box you had it in?" + +"Yes. I wanted to see it when I came in--I'd been in town--and it wasn't +in the box." + +"Had it been there recently?" + +"Um--I can't tell just how recently--perhaps a week ago." + +"Did you ask about it?" + +"Yes, I asked Willitts. He said he hadn't seen it." + +"Didn't you tell me you kept studs and jewelry in that box?" + +"I did; that's what it's for. I don't see how he could have helped +seeing it. I daresay he did and, thinking it was of no use, threw it +away and then, when he saw I wanted it, got scared and lied." + +A thing like a zigzag of lightning went through me. It stabbed down from +my head to my feet, giving my heart a whack as it passed. My voice +sounded queer as I spoke: + +"He could have known, couldn't he, of that walk you and Miss Maitland +took, that walk when you found the band?" + +He had been looking, dreamy and indifferent, out into the darkness. Now +he turned to me, a little surprised, as if he was wondering at my +questions: + +"I suppose so. He knew all my crowd up there; they're forever running +back and forth from one place to the other. They know everything, and +they're the greatest gossips and snobs in the country. I've no doubt he +heard it talked threadbare--the boss walking home with Mrs. Janney's +secretary. Probably gave their social sensibilities a jolt." + +Something lifted me out of my chair, carried me across the balcony, +plunked me down beside him on a lower step. I craned up my head near to +his and I'll never forget the expression of his face, sort of blank, as +if he wasn't sure whether I'd gone crazy or was going to kiss him. + +"Some one who knew the family, some one who knew it was out that night, +some one who knew Miss Maitland had the combination, some one who could +have got a key to the front door, some one _the dogs were friendly +with_!" + +He was staring at me as if he was hypnotized--getting a gleam of it but +not the full light. I put my hands on his shoulders and gave them a +shake. + +"You simp, wake up. It's Willitts!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV--CARDS ON THE TABLE + + +In spite of Molly's excited certainty that Willitts was the thief, +Ferguson was not convinced. He met her impetuous demand for the valet's +arrest with a recommendation for a fuller knowledge of his activities on +the night of the robbery. Willitts had gone to the movies with the +Grasslands servants and if he had been with them the whole evening he +was as innocent as Dixon or Isaac. She had to agree and promised to do +nothing until she had satisfied herself that his movements tallied with +their findings. + +Ferguson had a restless night. There was matter on his mind to keep him +awake; he was fearful that Suzanne might make some false step. She was +at best a shifty, unstable creature, how much more so now strained to +the breaking point. He felt he ought to be in town where he could keep +her under his eye, and decided to motor in in the morning. Also he began +to think that Molly was probably right; she was shrewd and experienced, +knew more of such matters than he. He would go to the Whitney office and +put the Willitts' affair in their hands, then run up to the St. +Boniface, take a room, and have a look in at Suzanne. + +He left the house at nine-thirty, telling the butler he was called to +the city on business, and might be gone a day or two. At the Whitney +office he was informed that Mr. and Mrs. Janney were in consultation +with the heads of the firm, and, saying he would not disturb them, +waited in an outer room from whence he telephoned to Suzanne, telling +her he would be at the hotel later. When the Janneys had gone he was +ushered into the old man's office where he found the air still vibrating +with the clash of battle. A combined attack had been made on Mrs. Janney +who, under its pressure and the slow undermining of her confidence by a +week of failure, had given in and consented to a move on Price. It had +been planned for that afternoon, when he was to be summoned to the +office, charged with the kidnaping and commanded to render up the child. + +Whitney and his son listened to Ferguson's story of the cigar band with +unconcealed interest. George, however, was skeptical--it was ingenious +and plausible, showed Molly's fine Italian hand; but his mind had +accepted the theory of Esther's participation and was of the unelastic, +unmalleable kind. His father was obviously impressed by it, admitting +that his original conviction of the girl's guilt had been shaken. To +George's indignant rehearsal of the evidence, he accorded a series of +acquiescing nods, agreed that the facts were against him and maintained +his stand. He would see Willitts as soon as possible and put him through +a grilling examination. O'Malley could be sent to Council Oaks at once +to bring him in, and his business could be disposed of before they got +round to Price. As Ferguson rose to go George had the receiver of the +desk telephone down and was giving low-voiced instructions to O'Malley +to report immediately at the office. + +It was nearly one when the young man found himself on the street level. +There was no use going to the St. Boniface now as the family would be at +lunch and speech alone with Suzanne impossible. On the way uptown he +stopped at a restaurant, ordered food which he hardly touched, filling +out the time with cigarettes. By half-past two he was on the move again, +threading a slow way through the traffic, his eye lingering on the clock +faces that loomed at intervals along the Avenue. Suzanne had told him +that the old people always went for a drive after lunch and he scanned +the motors that passed him, hoping to see them. He was in no mood for +polite conversation--felt with the passing of the hours an increasing +tension, a gathering of his forces for a leap and a struggle. + +At the desk in the St. Boniface he heard that Mr. and Mrs. Janney had +just gone out, and waited while Mrs. Price's room was called up. There +was no response; Mrs. Price must be out too. The information made him +uneasy; she had told him she went nowhere except to Larkin's. More than +ever anxious to see her, he engaged a room and left the message that he +would be there and to be called up when she came in. The door shut on +him, his uneasiness increased; wondering what had taken her out, +wondering if she had done anything foolish, cursing the fate that had +placed so much in her feeble hands, perturbed and restless as a lion in +a cage. + +Suzanne had gone to Larkin's, called there by a telephone message. It +had come almost on the heels of her parents' departure and was brief--a +request to come to him as soon as she could. She had scrambled into her +street clothes, and, shaking in every limb, slipped out of the hotel's +side door and sped across town in a taxi to hear how Bbita was to be +found. + +She was hardly inside the door, her veil lifted from a face as pale as +Csar's ghost, when Larkin answered her look of agonized question: + +"Yes, the letter's come--what we expect, very clear and explicit. It was +sent to me this time--came on the two o'clock delivery." + +He turned to the desk and took up a folded paper. Before he could offer +it to her, she had leaned forward and snatched it out of his hand. +Instantly her eyes were riveted on the lines: + + "Mr. Horace Larkin, + + "_Dear Sir_: + + "In answer to the ad. in the _Daily Record_, we are dealing + through you as the agent named by Mrs. Price. We do this as we + realize that a lady of Mrs. Price's type and experience would be + unable to handle alone so important a matter. Before we enter + into details we must again repeat our warnings--not only the + return of the child but her life is dependent on the actions of + her mother and yourself. If you are wise to this and follow our + instructions Bbita will be restored to her family on Saturday + night. + + "The plan of procedure must be as follows: At eight-thirty a + roadster, containing only the driver and marked by a + handkerchief fastened to the windshield, must leave the village + of North Cresson by the Cresson turnpike, at a rate of speed not + exceeding fifteen miles an hour. It must proceed eastward along + the pike for a distance of ten miles. Somewhere during this run + a car will pass it and from its tonneau flash an electric + lantern twice. Follow this car. Make no attempt to hail or to + overtake it. It will turn from the main road and proceed for + some distance. When it stops the driver of the roadster must + alight, place the money at a spot indicated, and submit, without + parley, to being bound and gagged. When this is done the child + will be left beside him. If agreed to insert following personal + in _The Daily Record_ of Saturday morning: 'James, meet you at + the time and place specified. Tom.' + + "(Signed) _Clansmen_." + +The letter fluttered to the desk and Suzanne sank into a chair. Larkin +looked at her; his glance showed some anxiety but his voice was hearty +and encouraging: + +"Well, you agree, of course?" + +She nodded, swallowing on a throat too dry for speech. + +He picked up the letter and ran a frowning eye over it: + +"It simply confirms what I thought--old hands. It's about as secure as +such a thing could be. I don't see a loose end." + +She made no answer and he went on still studying the paper: + +"I'm not familiar with this country, but they wouldn't have picked it +out unless it offered every chance of escape." + +"Escape!" she breathed. "They've _got_ to escape." + +It made him smile, the eye he turned on her showed a quizzical +amusement: + +"You're almost talking like an accomplice, Mrs. Price." But he quickly +grew grave as he met her tragic glance. "Pardon me, I shouldn't have +said that, but the fact is, with the climax in sight, I'm a bit on edge +myself." Then with a brusque change of tone, "Do you know this section +of Long Island?" + +"Yes, well--I've driven over it often." + +"Am I right in thinking there are numbers of roads leading from the +Cresson Turnpike?" + +"Lots of them, to the Sound and inland." + +"Umph!" he threw the letter on the desk and sat down, "I don't think you +need worry about their getting away. Now we must settle this up and then +I'll go out and have the ad inserted. We've got to hustle--they've only +given us a little over twenty-four hours." + +She looked dazedly at him and murmured: + +"What have we got to do?" + +"Why--" he was very gentle as to a stupid and bewildered child--"we have +to arrange about this car--our car, the one that gets the signal." + +"We can hire it, can't we?" + +"Well, we could hire the car, but the driver--we can't very well hire +him. He must be some one upon whom we can rely." + +She stared at him, her eyes dilating: + +"Yes, yes, of course. I'd forgotten that." + +"Is there any one you can suggest--any one that you _know_ you could +trust and who would be willing to undertake it?" + +"Yes," the word came with a sudden decision. "I know some one." Larkin +eyed her sharply. She looked more alive than she had done since her +entrance, seemed to be vitalized into a roused, responsive intelligence. +"I know exactly the person." + +"Entirely trustworthy?" + +"Absolutely. Mr. Ferguson--Dick Ferguson." + +"Oh, yes, Ferguson of Council Oaks." He mused a moment under her hungry +scrutiny. "Do you think he'd be willing to--er--agree to their demands +as you have?" + +"Yes, he'd do it to help me. He's an old friend; I know him through and +through. He'd do it if I asked him." + +The detective was silent for a moment, then said: + +"Well, we have to have some one and if you're willing to vouch for him +I'll abide by what you say. Before you came in I was thinking of +offering to do it myself. But there are reasons against that. I don't +mind helping you this way--quietly, on the side--but to be an actual +participant in the final deal, handle the money, be more or less +responsible for the person of the child--I'd rather not--I'd better not. +And anyway I think I can be more useful as an observer, an unsuspected +spectator who may see something worth while." + +She gave a stifled scream and caught at his hand, resting on the edge of +the desk: + +"No, no, Mr. Larkin, _please_, I beg of you. You're not going to try and +catch them." + +Her fingers gripped like talons; he laid his free hand over them, +soothingly patting them: + +"Now, now, Mrs. Price, please have confidence in me. Am I likely, at +this stage of the game, to do anything to queer it?" + +She did not reply, her eyes shifting from his, her teeth set tight on +her quivering underlip. He waited a moment and then spoke with a new +note, dominating, authoritative, as one in command: + +"My dear lady, you've got to get hold of yourself. I can't go on with +this if you don't trust me. We're launched on an enterprise by no means +easy and if we don't pull together we'll fail, that's all." + +That steadied her. She dropped his hand and broke into tremulous +protestations: + +"I do, I do, Mr. Larkin. It's only that I'm so terribly afraid, so upset +and desperate. Of course I trust you. Would I be here, day after day, if +I didn't?" + +He was mollified, dropped back with the crisp, alert manner of the +detective. + +"All right, we'll let it go at that. Now as to Ferguson--you'll have to +get word to him at once. Is he in the country?" + +"No--he's here. I had a telephone from him this morning to say he was in +town and would be at the hotel later in the day. He's probably there +now, waiting for me." + +"Um!" Larkin considered for a moment. "That's lucky. There's no time to +waste. Get his consent and then 'phone me here. Just a word. And you +understand he'll have to know the circumstances; he'll have to be wise +to everything if he's to play his part." + +Suzanne had lied so long and so variously that she did it with a natural +ease. No one, having seen her as Larkin had, would have guessed the +knowledge she hid. Her air of innocently comprehending his charge was a +triumph of duplicity. + +"Of course, I know, I understand. It'll be a dreadful surprise to him +but he'll see it as I do. And he'll do what I ask--I'm as certain of +that as I am of his secrecy." + +She would have to have the letter to show him, and Larkin, after a last, +careful perusal of it, handed it to her. Then she went, cutting off his +heartening words of farewell, making her way out in a quick, noiseless +rush. At the desk in the hotel she learned that Ferguson was there, +asked to have him apprised of her return and sent at once to her sitting +room. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV--MOLLY'S STORY + + +The morning after that talk with Ferguson I rose up "loaded for bar." At +breakfast I led Dixon round to the old subject--we were good friends now +and he'd drop his professional manner when we were alone and talk like a +human being. Of course he remembered everything, and opened up as fluent +as a gramophone. Willitts hadn't found them at the movies till nearly +ten--been delayed on his way in from Cedar Brook, his landlady's little +girl had been took bad with croup and he'd gone for the doctor--Dr. +Bernard, who was off on a side road half way between Cedar Brook and +Berkeley. + +That ought to have been enough for me, but having started I thought I'd +clear it all up, so I borrowed a bike off Ellen and set out on the +double quick for Dr. Bernard's. I saw Mrs. Bernard and heard all I +wanted. Willitts had been there on the night of July seventh, came on a +bicycle, saw the doctor and gave his message about the sick child. She +thought it was somewhere between eight and half-past--the storm was just +stopping. I lit out for home; I'd got it all now. He'd gone straight +from the doctor's to Grasslands, taken the jewels, and made a short cut +back to the main road through the woods to where he'd hidden his wheel. + +When you get this far on a case there comes over you a sort of terror +that you may slip up. You have it all in your hand, your fingers are +stretched to lay hold on the criminal, and an awful fear takes +possession of you that right on the threshold of success you may lose. +The cup and the lip--that's the idea. + +This seized me on the ride back to Grasslands. Why was the cigar band +gone if he wasn't wise to what it meant? It was a powerful hot day, +smothering on the wood roads, but the way I made that machine shoot +you'd suppose it was a hard frost and I was peddling to get up my +circulation. He might be gone already, taken fright and skipped! I had a +vision of telling the Chief and what he'd say, and the perspiration came +out on me like the beads on a mint julep glass. I'd go to town right +now--there was an express at eleven--but before I left I'd call up +Council Oaks and find out if he was there. + +As I ran up the piazza steps the hall clock chimed out a single note, +half-past ten--I had plenty of time. I called to Dixon to order the +motor--I was going to town--whisked into the telephone closet, and made +the connection. The voice that answered lifted me up out of the +depths--for I guessed it was Willitts by the dialect, English, with the +"H's" hanging on sort of loose and wobbly. To make sure I asked, and it +answered, smooth as a summer sea--yes, I was talking to Mr. Ferguson's +valet, Willitts. Mr. Ferguson was not at 'ome, 'ed gone to the city to +be away a day or two. Was there any message? There wasn't--you could bet +on that--and I eased off in a high-class society drawl. + +With a deep breath I dropped back to normal, smoothed my feathers, +powdered my nose, and when the motor came round looked like a shy little +nursery governess, snitching a day off in town. + +It was at the station that something happened which ended my peaceful +state and gave me an experience I'll remember as long as I live. + +Just as I was stepping on the train I took a glance back along the +platform and there, close behind me, dressed as neat as a tailor's +dummy, was Willitts with a bag in his hand. He didn't notice me, and if +he had he wouldn't have known me, for I'd only passed him once in the +village and then he wasn't looking my way. I mounted up the steps and +went into the car. From the tail of my eye I saw him in the doorway and +when he'd taken the seat in front of me, I dropped against the back of +mine, saying to myself: "Hully Gee, he's _going_!" + +All the way into town, I sat with my eyes on his hat, thinking what I'd +better do. There was one thing certain--that stood out like the writing +on the wall--I mustn't let him out of my sight. Where he went I'd have +to go, tight as a barnacle I'd have to stick to that desperado. I tried +to think how I could get a message to the Whitneys' office, but I didn't +see how I was going to find the time or the opportunity. If the worst +came to the worst I could call a cop, but if I knew anything of men like +Willitts, he'd keep a watch out like a warship for periscopes, for +anything that wore brass buttons and connected with the law. + +The "Penn" station was as hot as a Turkish bath and through it you can +imagine me, trying to trip light and airy, and keeping both eyes as +tight as steel rivets on that man's back. I've never shadowed +anybody--it's not been included in my college course--all I knew was I +mustn't lose him and I mustn't get him suspicious, and if you're making +away with a fortune in a handbag, suspicion ought to be your natural +state. So I trailed after him as far in the rear as I dared, sometimes, +a gang rushing for a train coming in between us, sometimes the space +clear with him hurrying to the exit and me sort of loitering and gawking +up at the maps on the ceiling. + +Out in the street he turned and shot a glance like a searchlight round +behind him. It swept over me and took no notice, which was considerable +of an encouragement. If it was warm in the station, it was sizzling +outside. Men were carrying their coats on their arms, some of them using +palm leaf fans, careful ones keeping to the edge of shade along the +house fronts. But Willitts didn't mind the sun; I guess when you're +making off with a fortune you're indifferent to temperature--it's +another proof of mind over matter. + +After walking down Seventh Avenue for a few minutes he turned to the +left and struck across a side street to Sixth. Half way down the block +he went into a men's furnishing store, and sauntering slow past the +window, I saw him looking at collars. There was a stationer's just +beyond and I cast anchor there, by a counter near the door set out with +magazines. A sales girl lounged up, chewing her gum like the heat had +made her languid, and looking interested over my clothes. + +"Awful warm, ain't it?" she said, and I answered, picking up a magazine: + +"It's something fierce. I'll take this one." + +"You got that one already," says she, pointing to the magazine I'd +bought at Berkeley and was still clinging to. "Don't you wanna try +something new?" + +"Oh--it's the heat; the sun gets my head woozy." I picked out another +and gave her a dollar, the smallest change I had. As she was walking to +the cash register, Willitts passed the door and I was out on the sill, +moving cautious to the sidewalk. + +"Say," comes the girl's voice from behind me, "what are you doin'? You +ain't got your change yet. You'd oughtn't to be let out in this sun." + +"Keep it," I called back. "I was a working girl once myself." + +At the corner of Fifth Avenue he stopped and, a bus coming along, he +haled it. "Lord," thought I, "if he gets into that without me I'll have +to run after it and they'll arrest me for a lunatic." Being quite a ways +behind, I had to make a dash for it, waving my magazine and hollering +like the rubes from the country. He was up on the roof, and the bus was +moving when I lit on the step, and was hauled in friendly by the +conductor. + +We jolted downtown, me sitting sideways in a rear seat watching the +stairs for Willitts' legs. It wasn't until we were below Twenty-third +Street that they came into view, stepping lightly down. The bus heaved +up against the curb and he swung off, me behind him. I was terribly +scared that he'd begin to suspect me, and all I could think of that +would look natural was to roll my eyes flirtatious at the conductor, who +seemed to like it so much I was afraid he wouldn't let me off. + +When I got down on the pavement Willitts was walking along the cross +street back toward Sixth Avenue. Midway down the block, he stopped and +disappeared through a doorway. I was quite a piece behind him and when I +saw him fade out of sight I forgot everything and ran. At the door I +came up short, panting and purple in the face--the place was a +restaurant. It had a large plate glass window with white letters on it +and a man making pancakes where he'd show plainest. Inside I could see +Willitts seating himself at a littered up table. + +"Lunch!" I said to myself. "He's going to eat, the cool devil. Now's my +chance!" + +Almost directly opposite was a drug store with telephone booths close to +the window. I could get a message to the office, and if I caught the +chief or Mr. George, I could have a man up in twenty minutes. If they +weren't there I'd try headquarters, but I was afraid of that--they'd ask +questions, waste time, want to know who I was and what it was all about. +If only Willitts was hungry, if he'd only eat enough to last till I got +some one, if he'd only order pancakes. As I waited for the connection I +found myself sort of praying "Pancakes--make him order pancakes. They're +made in the window and they take quite a while. _Please_ make him eat +pancakes!" + +Right in the midst of my prayer came the voice of Miss Quinn, the +switchboard girl in the office, and for me it was: + +"Quick, Miss Quinn--it's Mrs. Babbitts. Is Mr. Whitney or Mr. George +there? Give 'em to me--on the jump--if they are." + +She didn't waste a word, and in a minute Mr. George's voice came sharp: + +"Hello, who is it?" + +"Molly, Mr. George. And I've got Willitts--and I've got enough on him to +know he's the thief--I can't tell you now but--" + +He cut in with: + +"I know, I know, Ferguson's told us. O'Malley's here now going to +Council Oaks for him." + +I almost screamed: + +"Send him _here_. Willitts is off; he's left and I've trailed him. I'm +waiting at the door and he's inside." + +"Inside _what_, where the devil are you?" + +I gave him the directions and then: + +"It's a restaurant; he's eating. But it may only be a doughnut and a +glass of milk. If it's pancakes we're safe, but a man lighting out with +a fortune in a handbag don't generally want anything so filling. I'll +follow him until I drop, but I don't want to travel round with a jewel +thief unless I have to." + +"I'll send O'Malley now. You stay right there and if Willitts finishes +before he comes, hold him any way you can. Get a cop. I'll 'phone to +headquarters for a warrant. So long." + +Of course I thought of the cop, but spying out from the doorway, there +wasn't one in sight. And by this time I was considerably worked up, +afraid to move in any direction, afraid to take my eyes from the +restaurant entrance. I pulled up one of the chairs they have for people +getting prescriptions filled, and sat down by the doorway, watching the +place opposite, like a cat camped in front of a mouse hole. + +Ten minutes had passed. If the traffic wasn't too thick on Broadway +O'Malley could make it in less than twenty. But the traffic _was_ +thick--it was the middle of the day; if he was stalled or had to make a +detour it might run toward half an hour. He might be--The door of the +restaurant opened and out crept the mouse. + +The cat rose up, soft and stealthy, with her claws ready. As I crossed +the street I sent a look both ways--not a taxi in sight, not a cop, only +the whole thoroughfare tangled up with drays and delivery wagons. There +was nothing for it but to stop him, first put out the velvet paw and +then shoot the claws. Jumping quick on the curb I came up alongside of +him, a smile on my face that felt like the grin you get when you make a +joke that no one sees. + +"Why, _hullo_," I said, going at him with my hand out, "I couldn't at +first believe it--but it _is_ you." + +He drew up quick, all on the alert, looking at me with hard, ferret +eyes. + +"Who are you?" he said, fierce and forbidding. "What do you want?" + +I put my head sideways, and tried to take the curse off the smile, +changing it to a sort of trembly sweetness. + +"Why, _don't_ you know me? I can't be changed that bad. It's Rosie." + +I didn't know what his Christian name was and anyway, if I had it +wouldn't have helped--a man like Willitts changes his name as often as +he does his address. But I had to call him something, so when I saw the +anger rising in his eyes, I said, all broken and tender like the +deserted wife in the last act: + +"Dearie, don't pretend you don't remember me--it's Rosie from the old +country." + +He began to look savage, also alarmed: + +"I don't know what you're talking about. I never saw you before in my +life." + +He made a movement to pass on, but I drew up close, wiped off the smile, +and put on the look of true love that won't let go. + +"Oh, dearie, don't say that. Haven't I worn the soles off my shoes +hunting for you ever since, ever since--" Gee, I didn't know how to +finish it, then it came in a flash. I moaned out, "ever since we +parted." + +"Look 'ere, young woman," he said, low, with a face on him like a meat +ax, "this doesn't go with me. Now get out; get off or I'll 'ave you run +in." + +I knew he wouldn't do _that_; he'd hand over the jewels first. I raised +up my voice in a wail and said: + +"Oh, dearie, you're faking; I won't believe it. You can't have +forgot--back in the old country, me and you." + +A messenger boy, slouching by, heard me and drew up, hopeful of some +fun. Willitts saw him and began to look like murder would be added to +his other offenses. I gave a glance up the street--still only drays and +wagons, not a taxi in sight. Fatima with Sister Anne reporting from the +tower, had nothing over me for watchful waiting. + +"It's Rosie," I whined, "it's your own little Rosie. If I don't look the +same it's the suffering you've caused me and Gawd knows it." + +I laid my hand on his arm. With a movement of fury he shook it off and +began to back away from me. Another boy had come up against the +messenger and lodged there like a leaf in a stream, caught in an eddy. I +heard him say, "What's on?" and the other answered: + +"Don't know but I guess it's the movies." + +And they both looked round for the camera man. + +I don't think Willitts heard them. His back was that way and his face to +me, hard as iron and savage as a hungry wolf's. He tried to speak low +and soothing: + +"Now 'old your tongue, don't make such a fuss. I'll give you something +and you go off quiet and respectable." His hand felt in his pocket and I +raised a loud, tearful howl: + +"_Money!_ Is it money you're offering? What's money to me whose heart +you've broken?" + +"I don't see no camera man," came the messenger boy's voice. + +"Aw, he's in one of them wagons," said the other. "I've seen 'em in +wagons." + +The perspiration was on Willitts' forehead in beads, he was whitening +round the mouth. Putting his face close down to mine he breathed out +through his teeth: + +"What in 'ell do you want?" + +"_You!_" I cried and out of the tail of my eye I saw a taxi shoot round +the corner from Fifth Avenue. Willitts drew away from me, shrunk +together for a race. I saw it and I knew even now, with O'Malley +plunging through the traffic, it might be too late. Embracing is not my +strong suit, no man but my lawful husband ever felt my arms about him. +But duty's a strong word with me and then my sporting blood was up. So +with my teeth set, I just made a lunge at that crook and clasped him +like an octopus. + +I didn't know a man was so much stronger than a woman. Willitts wasn't +much taller than I and he was a thin little shrimp, but believe me, he +was as tough as leather and as slippery as an eel. I could see the two +boys, delighted, drinking it in, and a dray man in a jumper, drop a +crate and come up on the run, bawling: "Say, you feller, let the lady +alone," The boys chorused out: "Aw, keep out--it's the movies!" Willitts +must have heard too, and I guess he saw his chance, for he suddenly +squirmed one arm loose, and whang! came a blow on the side of my head. +It might have seemed part of the play but he did it too hard--calculated +wrong in his excitement. I let go, seeing everything--the houses, the +sky, the crowd that seemed to start up out of the pavements--whirling +round and shot over with zigzags. There was a roaring noise in my ears +and all about, and I dropped over into somebody's arms, things getting +swimmy and dark. + +When I came out of it I was sitting on a packing box with a man fanning +me and O'Malley, red as a tomato and Willitts the color of ashes in the +middle of a mob. There was a terrible hubbub, people jamming together, +the wagons stopped and the drivers yelling to know what was up, heads +out of every window, and then two policemen, fighting their way through. +I felt queer, sickish, and as if the muscles of my face were all slack +so my mouth wouldn't stay shut. But the gentleman fanning me acted awful +kind and a clerk came out of a store with ice water and a wet +handkerchief that he patted soft on the side of my head. + +I could see O'Malley and the policeman (they'd come from headquarters I +heard afterward) go off into a vestibule with Willitts and the crowd +that couldn't get a look-in came squeezing round me, heads peering up +over heads. They'd got the idea that Willitts was my husband, seeming to +think only a lawful spouse would dare to hit a woman before witnesses in +the public street. The guys in the front were explaining it to the guys +in the back and calling Willitts names I couldn't put down in these +refined pages. + +It got me laughing, especially when an old Jew who had been sizing me up +like a piece of goods nodded slow and solemn and said: "And she ain'd zo +bad lookin' neither." I burst right out at that and the man with the fan +waved his arms at them, shouting: + +"Give way there--back--back! She wants air--she's hysterical. She's gone +through more than she can bear." + +Gee, how I laughed! + +Presently in the center of a surging mass we crowded our way to the +taxi, the policemen going in front and hitting round light with their +clubs. O'Malley with Willitts handcuffed to him got in the back seat, me +opposite, with my hat off, holding the handkerchief against my head. As +we pulled out I looked back over the sea of faces and caught the eye of +one of the policemen. He straightened up, very serious and dignified, +and saluted. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI--THE COUNTER PLOT + + +Ferguson's knock on Suzanne's door was promptly answered by the lady +herself, still in her hat and wrap. She clutched at him as she had done +when he came to her in her dark hour, drawing him into the room and +gasping her news. He was in no mood to follow her ramblings and, as soon +as she spoke of a letter, interrupted her with a brusque demand for it. +After he had mastered its contents he told her to 'phone at once to +Larkin that it was all right, and while she delivered the message, stood +by studying the paper. When she turned back to him he laid his hands on +her shoulders and looked into her eyes. The touch that once would have +sent the blood burning to her cheeks called up no responsive thrill now: + +"This lets you out--it's the end of your responsibility. Your part now +is to be quiet and wait. To-morrow night you'll have Bbita back. Just +nail that up in your mind and keep your eyes on it." + +"Back where? Will you bring her here?" + +It was so like her--so indicative of a mental attitude invariably small +and personal, that he could have smiled: + +"I can't say, but probably Grasslands. The end of the route laid down +isn't so far from there." + +"Shall I go back to Grasslands?" + +He pondered a moment, then decided it was wiser to trust nothing to her, +even so simple a matter as her withdrawal to the country. + +"No, stay where you are. There'd be a lot of questioning if you went, +bothersome, hard to answer. When we have her I'll let you know. For the +rest of this afternoon I'll be in town, in my room here on the floor +below. If anything of moment should happen send for me, but don't unless +it's vital. I'll be busy getting things ready. Be silent, be grave, be +hopeful--that's all you have to do now." + +He left her, going directly to his room on a lower floor of the hotel. +She felt numb and dazed, wondering how she was to live through the next +twenty-four hours. Her parents returned from their drive and close on +their entrance came a communication from the Whitney office, saying the +jewels had been found and Mr. and Mrs. Janney were wanted downtown. In +the midst of their bustling excitement she sat mute, following their +movements with vacant eyes. She saw them leave in agitated haste, Mr. +Janney forgetful of her, her mother throwing out phrases of comfort as +she hurried to the door. She was glad when they were gone and she could +be still, draw all her energies inward in the fight for endurance and +courage. + +His coat off, the windows wide for such breaths of air as floated across +the heated roofs, Ferguson paced back and forth with a long, even +stride. His uncertainty was ended, the tension relaxed; he stood face to +face with the event and measured it. + +His assurances to Suzanne that he would make no attempt to apprehend the +kidnapers had been sops thrown to pacify her terror. He had no more +intention of a supine acquiescence than Mrs. Janney would have had. +Beyond the clearing of Esther, stood out the man's desire to bring to +justice the perpetrators of a foul and dastardly deed. Now, with their +cards laid on the table, it rose higher, burned into a steady, hot blaze +of rage and resolution. + +But between his desire and its fulfilment stretched a maze of +difficulties. He saw at once what Larkin had seen--that their plan was +as nearly impregnable as such a plan could be. Though he knew every mile +of the country they had selected, he knew that the chances of waylaying +or flanking them were ten to one against him. Numerous roads, north and +south, led from the Cresson Pike, some to the shore drive along the +Sound, some inland crossing the various highways that threaded the +center of the Island. Any one of these might be chosen as the road down +which their car would turn, and any one of them, winding through woods +and lonely tracts of country, would offer avenues of escape. + +He thought of stationing men along the designated route but it would +take an army, impossible to gather at such short notice and impossible +to place without his opponent's cognizance. Hundreds of men could not be +picketed along a ten-mile stretch of highway without those who were the +authors of so daring a scheme being aware. They would be on the watch; +no move of such magnitude could be hidden from them. It would be the +same if he called in the police. They would know it, and what could the +police do that he could not do more secretly, more efficiently? + +A following car was also out of the question. There was no reason to +suppose that they would not have several cars of their own, passing and +repassing him, making sure that he was unescorted. The threats of injury +to the child he had set down as efforts to reduce Suzanne to a paralyzed +silence. But if they saw an attempt was on foot to trap them they might +not show up at all--go as they had come, unknown and unsighted, their +car lost among the procession of motors that passed along the Cresson +Pike. Then taken fright, they might not dare another effort, might drop +out of sight with their hostage unredeemed. A chill crept over the young +man, he had a dread vision of the old people's despair, of Suzanne +distraught, crazed perhaps. It behooved him to run no risks; to make +sure of the child was his first duty, to strike at her abductors his +second. + +The course he finally decided on was the only one that made Bbita's +restoration certain and offered a possibility of routing his opponents. +At the hour named he would place on the road six motors, driven by his +own chauffeurs and garage men, and entering the turnpike at intervals of +ten minutes. Three would start from its eastern end, meeting him en +route, three from its western, strung out behind him, now and then +speeding up, overhauling him and passing on. Of a summer's Saturday +night the Cresson Pike was full of vehicles, and the six, merged in the +shifting stream, would suggest no connection with him or his mission. + +Where his hope of success lay was that one of these satellites, to whom +the character and marking of his roadster would be visible at some +distance, might be within sight when he was signaled and see him turn +into the branch road. Its business would be to wait until another of the +fleet came up, pass the word, and the two follow on his tracks. This +halt would give the kidnapers time to complete the transaction, get the +money, give up the child, and bind him. If they were interrupted the +situation would be too perilous to permit of delay--he had thought of an +attack on the child--and if they had finished and gone the rescuing cars +could fly in pursuit. + +He was far from satisfied with it; it was very different from the +schemes he had had in his head before he measured his resourcefulness +against theirs. He dropped into a chair, sunk in moody contemplation of +its deficiencies. The men he had to rely on were not the right kind, +loyal and willing enough, but without the boldness and initiative +necessary to such an enterprise. He wanted a lieutenant, some one he +could look to for quick, independent action if the affair took an +unexpected turn. You couldn't tell how it might develop, and he, pledged +to his ungrateful rle, would be powerless to meet new demands, might +not know they had arisen. + +He was roused by a knock on the door. It surprised him for his presence +in the city was unknown except to his own household and the Janney +family. Then he thought of Suzanne coming down to him to pour out her +fears, and his "Come in" was harsh and unwelcoming. In answer to it the +door opened and Chapman Price entered. + +Ferguson rose, looking at his visitor, startled and silent. His surprise +was caused by the man's appearance, by a fierce disturbance in the +handsome face, pale under its swarthy tan, by the eyes, agate-black and +gleaming in a bovine glare. He had seen Chapman angry but never just +like this, and from a state, keyed to anticipate any new shock from any +direction, said: + +"What's happened now?" + +Price had closed the door and backing up, leaned against it. His answer +came, hoarse and broken: + +"I've been to those hounds, the Whitneys." + +It illuminated the ignorance of his listener, who was readjusting his +mind for a reply when the other burst into a storm of invective against +the lawyers and the Janneys. It broke like a released torrent, sentences +stumbling on one another, curses mingled with wild accusations, its +cause revealed in a final cry of: "Stolen--my child--kidnaped--gone!" + +Through Ferguson's head, full of weightier matters, flashed a vision of +Chapman raging at the Whitneys and a wonder as to what effect his rage +had had. Kicking a chair forward he spoke with a dry quietness: + +"That's all right--you needn't bother to go over it. Pull yourself +together and sit down." + +But he might as well have counseled self-control to an angry lion. The +man, still standing against the door, jerked out: + +"I can get nothing from any of them. They know nothing. They've let all +this time pass--following _me_, suspecting _me_. I don't know why I +didn't kill them!" + +"Probably because you've sense enough left not to complicate what's +complicated enough already. What brought you here?" + +He seemed unable to answer any direct question, staring with dilated +eyes, his thoughts fastened on the subject of his pain: + +"Spent a week--lost a week! Good God, Dick, they ought to be held +responsible. Where is she? Not one of them knows--not an effort made. +She's gone, lost, been stolen, spirited away, while they've been sitting +in their office, turning their d----d detectives loose on me." + +"Look here, Chapman, I'm not saying you're not right, but the milk's +spilled and it's no good trying to pick it up. If you'll sit down and +listen to me--" + +Price cut him off, leaving his post by the door to begin a distracted +striding about the room: + +"I couldn't stand it--when I'd got it through me I left. Then I tried to +get hold of Suzanne--telephoned her, here somewhere in this place. She's +half crazy, I think--I don't wonder, she's fonder of Bbita than +anything in the world. She wouldn't see me, crying and moaning out that +she couldn't, that she couldn't bear any more. And when I begged--I +thought that she and I might arrange some combined effort, that whatever +we had been we were partners _now_ in this--she told me to come to you, +that you could tell me more, that you could help." He swerved round on +Ferguson, the hard passion of his glance softened to a despairing +urgency, "For God's sake, do. I'm penniless, I know almost nothing +except that I've got to act now, at once, before any more time is lost. +Give me a hand, help me to find her." + +Ferguson's voice had an element of endurance in its level tones: + +"That's just what I want to do. And if you'll stop talking and let me +explain, you'll see I'm on the way to do it. But it's not _my_ help that +you want, it's the other way round--_I_ want _yours_." + +It was almost dark and Ferguson turned on the lights. Under their thin, +white radiance, the two men sat, drawn close to the open window, and +Ferguson told his story. The other listened, the storm of his anger +gone, his dark face growing keen and hard as he heard the plan unfolded. +An hour later they parted, Price to go to Council Oaks and lie low there +until the following night when he would command the fleet of motors in +the chase along the Cresson Turnpike. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII--NIGHT ON THE CRESSON PIKE + + +The night fell stifling and airless, unfortunately favorable for the +kidnapers, as the sky was covered with clouds and the country wrapped in +a thick darkness. + +At half-past eight the roadster, with Ferguson driving, glided into the +little village of North Cresson and swung out into the Cresson Turnpike. +Ten minutes behind him was his touring car with Saunders, his chauffeur, +at the wheel. Twenty minutes later a limousine was to strike into the +pike from a road just beyond the village, and a runabout, emerging from +an opposite direction, complete the chain. At the other end of the +ten-mile limit Chapman Price in the black racer, was running up from the +shore drive, with two satellites, one his own motor, one a hired Ford, +strung out behind him. + +Of a hot summer night at this hour the pike was alive with autos; +returning holiday-makers, city dwellers taking a spin in the country to +cool off, joy riders rioting by, belated business men speeding to the +sea-side for the Sunday rest. They bore down on Ferguson like a +procession of fleeing monsters with round, goblin eyes staring in +affright. They came from behind, swinging across his path in a blur of +dust, laughter and shrill cries rising from their crowded tonneaus. +Keeping to their narrow track between the borders of the fields they +were like a turbulent, flashing torrent, dividing the darkness with a +stream of streaked radiance, cutting the silence with a current of +continuous sound. + +Ferguson's glance ranged ahead, dazzled by the glare of advancing lamps +that enlarged on his vision, grew to a blinding haze and swept by. He +could see little, blackness and brightness alternating, the motors +emerging as dim solidities, realized for a passing moment, then gone. +Once a small car, cutting across his bows from a side road, made him +slacken, but it slowed round showing the gnarled face of a farmer with a +fat woman on the seat beside him and a bunch of children behind. + +As he went on the press of vehicles thinned, the line of the road showed +bare for longer stretches. The runabout overhauled him, kept by his side +for a few yards, then drew ahead, its red tail lantern receding with an +even, skimming smoothness; a spot, a spark, nothing. He calculated he +had covered nearly half the distance when the black racer passed in a +soft, purring rush, his eye, through the yellow fog that preceded it, +catching a glimpse of Price's face. Then came a long, straight level +between fields where only two cars went by, both going cityward. He +looked back and tried to see the road behind him, straining his vision +for a following shape, but the darkness lay close and unbroken, no +goblin eyes peering through it in anxious pursuit. + +The road took a dive into woods, black as a cavern, the air breathless. +It wound in sharp curves, his lamps sending their swinging rays into +thickets, then out again on a hilltop, and down, swooping with a long, +smooth glide into a valley. Here the touring car passed him and he met a +limousine, traveling at a pace as sober as his own, in its lit interior +two men talking; after that a farmer's wagon drawn up against the +roadside grasses, the horse prancing in fractious fear. Then nobody--a +wide strip of open country with the sky setting down like an arched lid +over the low circular surface of the land. + +It was very still and his listening ear caught the buzzing hum of a +vehicle behind him. This time he did not turn but drew off further to +the right, and a closed coup swung by, with the jarring rattle of an +old and loose-geared body. He was on the alert at once, its hooded shape +suggesting secrecy, the surrounding loneliness apt for its design. Its +tail light cast a bobbing, crimson blot on the bed and he saw its back, +dust-grimed and rusty, and the numbered oblong of its license tag. That +caused his expectancy to drop--the tag stood for respectability and +honest wayfaring, then, with a quickened leap of his heart, he realized +that its speed was slackening. It slowed down to his own gait, and at +the limit of his lamp's illumination, moved before him, a square bulk, +its back cut by a small window. He felt sure now, and with his hand on +the wheel took a look over his shoulder. In the distance, cresting a +rise, he saw two golden dots, too far for a speedy overtaking, and even +if that were possible he had no reason to suppose they belonged to any +of his followers. + +A belt of woods spread across the way and the road entered it as if +tunneling a vault. It wound, looped and twisted, tree trunks and leafy +hollows starting out as the long bright tubes swept over them. As one of +these, slewing wide in a sharper turn, crossed the bank of the forward +car, Ferguson saw an arm extended and from the hand a white spark flash +twice. Almost immediately the coup turned to the left, and plunged into +a by-way, black as a pocket, the woods' thick growth crowding on its +edges. + +The roadbed was good and the leading car accelerated its speed racing +onward under the arching boughs. Ferguson, close on its heels, knew that +the sounds of their going would be muffled by the enshrouding woodland, +absorbed in its woven density. No chance either of meeting any one; the +way was one of those forest trails, sought by the rich on their +afternoon drives, but at night deserted by all but the birds and the +squirrels. Cursing at the failure of his schemes, powerless now to +protest or to retaliate, he followed until he knew by a freshening of +the air that they were near the Sound. The coup's speed began to lessen +and it came to a halt. + +Ferguson drew up a few rods behind it. He could see the trees about him +picked out in detail and behind them the engulfing darkness. The machine +in front still seemed to shake and vibrate; he caught the sound of a +step and then a voice, a man's, deep and low-keyed: + +"This is the place. Get out." + +He jumped to the ground, discerning a shape by the coup's door. He +advanced, peering through his lantern's intervening glare, and made out +it was alone. Stung with a quick fear, he halted and said. + +"Where's the child?" + +"Here. Put the money on the rock to your right." + +The man came forward, a raised hand pointing to where the top of a rock +showed among the wayside grasses. From the lifted hand, the light struck +a silvery gleam, touching the barrel of a revolver. Ferguson, without +moving said: + +"I must see her first." + +He thought he detected a moment's hesitation, then the man stepped back +to the car and called a gruff: + +"All right--quick--look." + +He swung the coup door open and from an electric torch in his left hand +sent a ray into the interior. The white shaft pierced the murk like a +pointing finger. Its circular end, a spot of livid brightness, played on +Bbita curled on the floor asleep. Ferguson saw her as if cut from an +encompassing blackness, transparently clear like a picture suspended in +a void. Then the ray was extinguished, and as he stood, blinking against +the obscurity, heard the man's voice, "The money--on the rock there," +and caught the gleam of the revolver barrel level with his eyes. + +He walked to the rock and laid the money, in an envelope clasped with +rubber bands, on its flat surface. The whole thing seemed to him like a +cheap melodrama and he could have laughed as he righted himself and saw +the round, shining end of the revolver covering him, and the silent +figure behind it. + +"Come on," he said, "get to the rest. You tie me--where?" + +"The oak--behind you." + +It was a large-sized tree back from the edge of the road, and he walked +to it hearing the man trampling the underbrush in his wake. He had a +sense of a dreamlike quality in the whole fantastic performance, as if +he might wake up suddenly and find he'd been having a nightmare. + +But there was nothing dreamlike in the force with which the rope was +thrown about him and tightened round the tree. As he felt it strained +across his chest, lashed round his legs, girding him to the trunk close +at its bark, he recognized expertness and strength in the hands that +bound him. The thing was done with extraordinary speed and deftness, and +ended by a lump of waste, that smelled of gasoline, being thrust into +his mouth. + +The heavy tread moved again through the underbrush, the man passed to +the rock, and, his back to Ferguson, crouched on the light's edges +counting the money. Ferguson saw him in silhouette, a large, humped body +with bent head. This done, he went to the door of the coup and lifted +out the child. He had some difficulty in getting hold of her, muttered +an oath, then drew her out, carried her to the roadside and set her down +on the grass. There was a moment when he crossed the full gush of +illumination and Ferguson had a clear glimpse of him, a chauffeur's cap +on his head, the lower part of his face covered by a thick beard. +Returning to his car, he jumped in. Its lurching start broke into a +sudden flight, it rushed; Ferguson could hear the bounding of stones, +the creaking and wrenching of its body as it hurtled down the road. + + +[Illustration: _Ferguson saw him in silhouette, a large, humped body +with bent head_] + + +Silence settled, the deep, dreaming quiet of the woods. The young man +tried to struggle, to writhe and work himself loose, but his bonds held +fast, and he found himself choked for air, stifling and snorting over +his gag. He gave it up and looked at the child. By straining his eyes he +could just see her, a small, relaxed body, one hand outflung, her +profile, held in a trance-like sleep, marble white against the grass. A +hideous fear assailed him:--she might be dead. Some drug had evidently +been administered to keep her quiet--an overdose! He wrenched and +pressed at the cords, almost strangled and had to stop, the sweat +pouring into his eyes, his heart pounding on the rope that cut into his +chest. He called on his will, felt himself steadied, his smothered +breath came easier, the only sound on the silence. + +Then another broke upon it, far away, from the direction of the Sound--a +thin, clear report. He stiffened, all his faculties strained to listen, +heard it again, several in a spattering run, dropping distinct, like +little globules piercing the stillness. "Shooting!" he thought with a +wild surge of excitement, "out toward the water--Oh, Lord, have they got +him?" + +He listened again, but heard nothing. And then from the ground rose a +moaning breath, a sleepy cry--Bbita was awake. He wrenched his head +till he could see her plainly, her face turned upward, the eyes still +closed, the forehead puckered with a look of pain. He tried to emit some +word, heard it only as a guttural mutter, and watching, saw her stir, +the out-stretched arm sway upward, her eyes open, dazed and heavy, and +heard her drowsy whimper of, "Mummy," and then, "Oh, Annie, where are +you?" Slowly, her head moving as her glance swept the unfamiliar +prospect, she sat up. + +He remembered the next few minutes as something incredibly horrible, the +child's consciousness clearing to an overwhelming fear. She looked +about, saw him, scrambled to her feet and began to scream, shrill, +terrified cries, crouching away from him like a scared animal. She made +a rush for the motor, climbing in, cowering down, calling on the names +that meant safety: "Mummy! Oh, Mummy! Gramp, Daddy--Come! _Come_ to me!" + +An answer came, the hollow bray of a motor horn, the shout of a man's +voice, then the twin spears of light, the whirring buzz of a machine +shooting out of the road's dark tunnel--Chapman Price in the black car. +He leapt out and ran to her, caught her up, strained her to him, held +her head back to look into her face, kissed her, babbled words of love +that broke on his lips and he hid his face on her neck. She twined round +him, arms and legs clutching and clinging, sobbing out, "Popsy, Popsy!" +over and over. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII--THE MAN IN THE BOAT + + +Price took Bbita to Grasslands, handed her over to Annie and telephoned +in to the Janneys. Then he left to rejoin Ferguson who was to go to the +shore and find out the meaning of the shots. Price, missing the leading +car, had decided that it had turned from the pike and scouring the side +roads in a blind chase had heard the shots, agreeing with Ferguson that +they came from the direction of the Sound. + +Ferguson went that way, driving at breakneck speed. He had almost +reached the shore, felt the water's coolness, saw the wood's vista widen +when, to avoid a deep rut, he slewed his machine to the left. The lights +penetrated a thicket, revealing behind the woven foliage, a dark, large +body, black among the tangled green. He drew up, peering at it--it was +not a rock; its side showed smooth through the boughs. He jumped out and +pushed his way through the bushes. It was a taxi, its lamps +extinguished, broken branches and crushed foliage marking its track. + +It gave evidence of a violent flight and a hasty desertion, careened to +one side, its door open, a rug hanging over the step. He went to the +back, struck a match and looked at the license tag--the number was that +of the motor he had followed. Covered by the darkness, driven deep among +the trees, it could easily have passed unnoticed until the daylight +betrayed it. + +The plan of escape revealed a new artfulness--the man had made off +either on foot or in another vehicle. It accounted for the license--he +knew his pursuers would mark it and look for a car carrying that number. +In the face of such a crafty completeness of detail the young man felt +himself reduced to a baffled indecision. Cogitating on the various +routes his quarry might have taken, he ran out on to the shore road and +here again halted. + +Before him the Sound lay, a smooth dark floor, along which glided the +small golden glimmerings of river craft. He looked up and down the road, +discernible as a gray path between the upstanding solidity of the woods +and the flat solidity of the water. Some distance in front a black blot +took shape under his exploring glance as a small house. He started the +car and ran toward it, seeing as he approached a dancing yellow spot +come from behind it in swaying passage. He stopped, the yellow spot +steadied, rose, swung aloft--a lantern in the hands of a man, half +dressed, who came toward him spying out from under the upraised glow. + +Ferguson spoke abruptly: + +"Did you hear shots a while ago?" + +The man setting his lantern on the ground, spoke with the slow phlegm of +the native: + +"I did--close here. I bin down to the waterside seein' if I could make +out what they was." + +The house was skirted by a balcony along which a second light now came +into view; this time from a lamp carried in the hand of a woman. She was +wrapped in a bed gown, a straggle of loose hair hanging round a +frightened face. + +"We was asleep and they woke us up. They was right off there," she +jerked her head to the Sound behind her. + +"From the water?" Ferguson asked. + +"Sounded that way," the man took it up. "We wasn't sure at first what it +was; then they come crack, crack, one after the other, from somewheres +beyont. My wife, she said it was motor boats, said she heard 'em off +across the water. But by the time we got something on and was outside it +was over. There wasn't no more and we couldn't see nothing. I bin down +on the beach lookin' round, thinkin' they might have come from there, +but I ain't found no tracks or signs of anybody." + +"I was wonderin'," said the woman, "if may be it was that patrol +boat--the one they got this summer runnin' along the shore for +thieves--That they caught a sight of one and went after him." + +Ferguson was silent for a moment then said: + +"Is there any place round here where a boat could be hidden, deep enough +water for a launch?" + +The man answered: + +"Yes, right down the road a step there's a cove and an old dock; used to +belong to the folks that lived on the bluff but the house burned down a +while back and ain't been rebuilt and no one's used the dock since. A +feller could hide a boat there fine; it's all overgrown so you can't see +it unless you know where it is." + +"I'd like to take a look at it," said Ferguson. "Come along with the +lantern." + +The place was only a few yards from the mouth of the wood road. Trees +and shrubs sheltered it, concealing with their rank growth a small +wharf, rotted and sagging to the water line. The lantern rays revealed a +recent presence, scattered leaves and twigs on the wooden planking, the +long marshy grasses showing a track from the road to the wharf's edge. + +"Yes, sir," said the native, much impressed; "some one's been here +to-night and not s'long ago either. You can see where the dew's been +swep' off the grasses right to the water." + +Ferguson said nothing; he now saw the whole plan of escape--the coup +left in the woods, a short run to the cove where a boat had been +concealed, the get-away down on across the Sound. What had the shots +meant? Was the woman right in thinking the police patrol had come upon +the fleeing criminal? And if they had what had been the result? + +Lantern in hand, the man at his heels, he crushed through the swampy +copse to the shore. There his glance swept the long stretch of the +water, sewn in the distance with a pattern of moving sparks. Two of +them, red and green, stole over the ebony surface toward him, advancing +with an even, gliding smoothness, piercing and steady, like the eyes of +a stealthily approaching animal, fixing him with a meaning scrutiny. He +snatched up the lantern and ran for a point that jutted out in a pebbly +cape. Standing on its tip he raised and waved the light, letting his +voice ring out across the stillness: + +"Boat ahoy!" + +The lights drew closer, their reflections stabbing down into the oily +depths, gleam below gleam. The pulsing of a muffled engine came with +them, a prow took shape, a shine of wood and brass above the lusterless +tide. Ferguson called again: + +"Who are you?" + +An answer rose in a man's surly voice: + +"What's that to you?" + +"A good deal. I'm Ferguson of Council Oaks and I'm looking for the boat +that fired on some one round here about an hour ago." + +The voice replied, its tone changed to sudden conciliation: + +"Oh, Mr. Ferguson; couldn't see who it was. We're what you're looking +for--the police patrol. We have the launch here in tow." + +"Have you got the man?" + +"Yes, sir. He didn't answer our challenge and fired on us. We chased and +gave it back to him--a running fight. One of us got him--he's dead." + +"Go on to my wharf; I'll be there when you come." + +On his way along the shore road he met Price, paused for a quick +explanation, and the two cars ran at a racing clip to Ferguson's wharf. +The men were standing on its end when the police boat glided into the +gush of light that fell from the high electric lamps at either side of +the ship. Behind it, lifted and dropped by the languid wavelets, was a +launch, a covered shape lying on the floor. + +The story of the police was quickly told. The night, dark and windless, +was the kind chosen by the water thieves for their operations. The men +had been on the watch faring noiselessly with engine muffled and hooded +lamps. It was nearly the end of their run, a length of shore with few +estates, when they saw a boat glide from a part of the beach peculiarly +dark and deserted. The craft carried no lights, a fact that instantly +roused their suspicions, and they waited. As it drew out for the open +water they challenged. There was no answer, but a sudden acceleration of +its speed, shooting by them like a streak for the mid reaches of the +Sound. + +They started in pursuit, repeating their challenge and then an order to +lie to. Again there was no response and they clapped on top speed and +raced in its wake. They were gaining on it when, in answer to a louder +hail, the man fired on them, the bullet passing between two of them and +burying itself in the gunwale. They replied with a return fire, there +was a fusillade of shots, and the two boats sped in a darkling rush +across the Sound. They knew something was wrong with their opponent; his +launch headed in a straight line swept through the wash of steamers, cut +across the bows of tugs and river craft, rocking like a cockleshell, +menaced by destruction, shouts and objurgations following its mad +course. They were up with it, almost alongside on the last lap. He made +no answer to their hails, sat upright and motionless, sat so when his +bow crashed against the rocks of the Connecticut shore. They found him +dead, a bullet in his brain, the wheel still gripped in his hands. + +Ferguson dropped into the launch and drew down the coat that had been +thrown over the body. The face, the false beard gone, was handsome, the +body large and powerful, the hands fine and well kept--it was not the +type he had expected to see. He felt in the pockets and found the money +still in its envelope, clasped by the rubber bands. There were no other +papers, no means of identification. After a short colloquy with the men, +he and Price drove back to Council Oaks. + +Price left the next morning. His presence was necessary in the city, he +said, and he seemed preoccupied and anxious to go. He hinted at +forthcoming revelations which would clear up what was still unexplained, +but declared himself unable at present to say more. + +When he had gone, Ferguson walked to Grasslands where he found the +family recuperating in a relief too deep for words. Bbita was in bed +still asleep. The doctor, sent for the night before, said she was +suffering from the effects of a drug, but that rest and quiet would soon +restore her. + +They collected on the balcony to hear his story. When it was over, +questions answered, amazement and horror vented in various forms, Mr. +Janney said he would like to walk over to the wharf and have a talk with +the police himself. Ferguson decided to go with him; there would be a +lot of business to be gone through, an inquest with all its unpleasant +detail. + +As they rose to leave, Suzanne announced that she wanted to come too. +She looked a wreck, in her hysterical jubilation forgetful of her rouge +and powder; a worn little wraith of a woman whose journey to the heart +of life had stripped her of all coquetry and beauty. They tried to +dissuade her, but, as usual, she was insistent; she wanted to see the +men herself, she wanted to hear everything. On this day of thanksgiving +no one had the will to thwart her, so they accepted with the best grace +they could and she walked through the woods with them. + +There was a group of men on the wharf, the local police, the coroner, +some of Ferguson's employees. The body had been put in the boathouse, +laid on a table under a sheltering tarpaulin. Ferguson and Mr. Janney +drew off to the end of the dock in low-toned conference with the +officials. They were relieved to see that Suzanne had no mind to listen, +but stayed by herself in the shade of the boathouse wall. + +She leaned against it, looking out over the sparkling reaches of the +Sound. Her thoughts were of the dead man, close behind her there, on the +other side of the wooden partition. She wondered with an awed amaze at +his wild act and its dark ending. She wondered what manner of man he +was, what he was like--a human creature, unknown to her, who could want +only to cause her such anguish. + +She shot a glance over her shoulder and saw that the door of the +boathouse was half open--the coroner had been in and had neglected to +close it. She looked at the men at the end of the wharf; they stood in a +little cluster, backs toward her, heads together in animated discussion. +She moved from the wall, advanced on tip-toe through the slant of shade, +and slipped through the open doorway. + +The place was very still, its clear, varnished brownness impregnated +with the sea's salty tang, through its windows the golden gleam of the +waves reflected in rippling lights that chased across its peaked +ceiling. She stole to the table where the grim shape lay and lifted the +tarpaulin with a trembling hand. The other shot suddenly to her mouth, +strangling a scream, and she dropped the heavy cloth as if it burned +her. Both hands went up over her face, flattened there until the nails +were empurpled, and she stood, bent as if cramped with pain, for the +moment all movement paralyzed. + +Ferguson, informed of all he wanted to know, turned from the others to +join her. She was not where he had left her, and moving down the wharf +he looked about and, seeing no sign of her, decided that she had gone +home. He was passing the boathouse doorway when she came through it +almost upon him. + +"Good heavens!" he said angrily, "have you been in _there_?" Then, +seeing her face, he caught her arm and held her. Would there ever be an +end to her willfulness! + +"Come home," he said, sharply, and led her away. She tottered beside +him, drooping and ghastly. As they crossed the road to the path up the +bluff he could not forbear an exasperated: + +"What in the name of common sense did you do that for? Didn't you know +it was not a thing for you to see?" + +Her hands locked on his arm; she leaned against him lifting a haggard +glance to his face. Her voice was a husky whisper: + +"It's not that, Dick. It wasn't just the dead man. It was--it was--he +was my detective--Larkin!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX--MISS MAITLAND EXPLAINS + + +On Saturday afternoon several telephone messages were sent to Esther +Maitland at O'Malley's flat. They came from Ferguson, from Grasslands, +and the Whitney office. In the two latter cases they were conciliatory +and apologetic and asked that Miss Maitland would see the senders and +explain the circumstances that had so strangely involved her in the +case. + +To both her employers and the Whitneys Miss Maitland returned an evasive +answer. She would be happy to do as they asked, but would have to let a +few more days pass before she would be free to speak. Meantime she would +remain with Mrs. O'Malley, who had offered to keep her, and who had +treated her with the utmost kindness and consideration. One request she +made--this to the Whitneys--she would like Chapman Price to be advised +of her whereabouts. It would be necessary for her to communicate with +him before she would be able to explain her share in the mystery. + +Ferguson's message had been an importunate demand to let him come to +her. She refused, said she would see no one until she was at liberty to +clear herself, which would not be for some days yet. Her voice showed a +tremulous urgency, a note of pleading, new to his ears and infinitely +sweet. But he could not break down her resolution; she begged him to do +as she asked, not to seek her out, not to demand any explanations until +she was ready to give them. The one favor she granted him was that when +the time was up and she could break her silence, he could come for her. + +This did not happen until Wednesday. That morning she 'phoned to them +all that she could now see them and tell them what they wanted to hear. +A meeting was arranged at the Whitney office for three that afternoon +and Ferguson went to fetch her. + +They met in Mrs. O'Malley's front parlor, considerately vacated and with +the folding doors closed against intrusion. Without greeting Ferguson +took her hands and held them, looking down into her face. She was +beaming, her cheeks flushed, her eyes shy. She began to say something +about being at last able to vindicate herself, but he cut her off: + +"Before you go into that, I want to say something to you." + +"No, that's not fair; I must speak first and you must let me. It's my +privilege." + +"With the others maybe, but not with me. What I have to say has to be +said _before_ I hear. Esther, do you know what it is?" + +She was silent, her head drooping, her hands growing cold in his grasp. +He went on, very quietly and simply: + +"It's that I ask you to be my wife. And I must ask it before the +clearing or vindicating or any rubbish of that sort. I don't know what +_you'll_ say to it and I don't want any answer now. That's at your own +good time and your own good pleasure. It's just that I wanted you to see +how I stand and have stood since that night when we walked through the +woods together. Come along now--it's nearly three, and we mustn't keep +them waiting." + +It was a very different Esther who sat in Wilbur Whitney's private +office, facing those who had once been her accusers. She gave no +evidence of rancor, greeted them with a frank friendliness, smiled with +a radiance they set down to the rebound from long tension and strain. +Suzanne, her jealous fires burned out, could acknowledge now that she +was handsome; Mr. Janney wondered at her look of breeding. "A fine +girl," old Whitney thought, as he studied her through his glasses, +"spirited and high-mettled as a racer." + +"It's a long story," she said, "and for you to understand it I'll have +to go back to a time when none of you had ever heard of me. And before I +begin, I want to say to Mrs. Janney," she turned to the older woman +eagerly earnest, "if I had understood people better, if I hadn't been +hardened and made suspicious by the struggle I'd had, I would have +trusted you and told you more, and all this misery would have been +averted. So, in a way it was my fault, and being such I've suffered for +it. + +"I have a half-sister, Florence Jackson, nine years younger than I am; +that would make her eighteen. When my stepfather died, ten years ago, he +left us penniless and I had to start in at once to make our bread. I +boarded Florry out with friends and found a position as a school +teacher. That was only for a year or two; soon I advanced into the +secretarial work which was less fatiguing and better paying. In the +first place I got, Florry was living near me and on Sundays she used to +come and see me. My employer didn't like it--did not want a strange +child about the house and told me so without mincing words. I was +angry--I was hot-tempered and sensitive in those days and I made a vow +to keep my life to myself, be nothing to my employers but a machine who +rendered certain services for a certain wage. When I came to you, Mrs. +Janney, I should have seen that I was with some one who was big-hearted +and generous, but I had been molded and the mold had set in a hard and +bitter shape. + +"Earning more money I was able to put Florry in good schools. It was my +intention to give her a fine education, and equip her for the task of +earning her living. She was quick and clever, but willful and hard to +control. I suppose it was because she had had no home influences, no +place that belonged to her. She had to spend her vacations +anywhere--sometimes at the school, sometimes with classmates. It was a +miserable life for a child. + +"She was always pretty--when she was little people used to stop on the +streets to look at her--and as she grew older she grew prettier. She was +charming, too, there was something about her very willfulness that was +captivating. The combination worried me; if she had had more balance, +been more reasonable, it wouldn't have mattered. But she was the kind +who is always full of wild enthusiasms, going off at a tangent about +this, that and the other. Not a promising temperament for a girl who has +to support herself. + +"A year ago I got her into a first class school near Chicago--I had met +the principal, who had been very kind and taken her at a greatly reduced +rate. It was to be her last year; in June she would graduate and with +her education finished, I felt sure I could get her a position in New +York where I could help her and watch over her. During the winter--last +winter--her letters made me uneasy. She was discontented, tired of +study, wanted to be out in the world doing something. I was prepared for +a struggle with her, but not for what happened. + +"One day--it was in March--I had a letter from her saying she had run +away from school, was in New York and was looking for a job. I was angry +and bitterly disappointed, also I was frightened--Florry in New York +without a cent, with no one to be with her, with no home or companion. I +went to the address she gave me and found her in the hall bedroom of a +third rate boarding house--a woman on the train had told her of it--full +of high spirits and a sort of childish joy at being free. She did not +understand my disappointment, laughed at my fears. I lost my temper, +said more than I ought--and--well, we had a quarrel, the first real one +we ever had. + +"That night I couldn't sleep, blaming myself, knowing that whatever she +did it was my duty to stand by her. The next day I went to the place and +found she'd gone, leaving no address. For three days I heard nothing +from her and was on the verge of going to you, Mrs. Janney, and +imploring your aid and advice, when a letter came. She was all right, +she had found paying employment, she was independent at last. In my +first spare hour I went to her and found her in another boarding house, +a cheap, shabby place, but decent. A good many working women lived +there, the better paid shop girls and heads of departments. It was +through one of these, a fitter, at Camille's, that she had got work. +With her beauty it had been easy--she had been employed as a model at +Camille's." + +"Camille's!" the word came on a startled note from Suzanne. Esther +turned to her: + +"Yes, Mrs. Price, and you saw her there--you ordered a dress from a +model that Florry wore." + +"The girl with the reddish hair--the tall girl?" + +"Yes, that was Florry. She told me afterward how she walked up and down +in front of you." + +"But--" Suzanne's voice showed an incredulous wonder, "she was +beautiful; they were all talking about her." + +"I said she was--I was not exaggerating. She was satisfied with her +work, liked it, I think she would have liked anything that was novel and +took her away from the grind of study. _I_ didn't like it, but at least +it wasn't the stage, and I set about trying to find something better. +That was the situation till April and then--" She paused, her eyes +dropped to the floor. The color suddenly rose in her face and raising +them she shot a look at Ferguson. He answered it with a slight, almost +imperceptible nod and smiled in open encouragement. She took a deep +breath and addressed Mrs. Janney: + +"What I have to tell now isn't pleasant for me to say or for you to +hear, but I have to tell it for all the subsequent events grew from it. +Mr. Price had been to Camille's that first time with his wife." + +There was a slight stir in the listening company, a sudden focusing of +intent eyes on the girl, a waiting expectancy in the grave faces. She +saw it and answered it: + +"Yes, he saw Florry. He went again--Mrs. Price was buying several +dresses. After that second visit he waited one night at the side door +used for employees and spoke to her. I can't condone what she did, but I +can say in extenuation that she was very young, very inexperienced, that +she knew who Mr. Price was, and that she had never in her life met a man +of his attractions. + +"She didn't hide it from me, was frank and outspoken about the meeting +and his subsequent attentions. For he saw her often after that, took her +for walks on Sunday, sent her theater tickets and books. I was filled +with anxiety, besought of her to give it up, but she wouldn't, she +couldn't. Before I went to Grasslands I realized a situation was +developing that made me sick with apprehension. She was in love, madly +in love. I couldn't reason with her, I couldn't make her listen to me; +she was blind and deaf to anything but him and what he said. + +"I went to Mr. Price and implored him to leave her alone. I had to catch +him as I could--in the halls, at odd moments in the library, for he +hated the scenes I made and tried to avoid me. He assured me that he +meant no harm, that her position was hard and he was sorry for her. I +threatened to tell Mrs. Janney, and he said I could if I wanted, that he +would soon be done with them all and didn't care. I saw then that he +too, like Florry, was growing indifferent to everything but the hours +when they were together--that _he_ was in love. + +"That was the situation when I went to Grasslands. It was much worse +there--I couldn't see her often, I was in ignorance of how things were +going with her, for her letters told me little. It was unbearable, and I +went into town whenever I could; all the extra holidays were asked for +so that I could go into the city and see how Florry was getting on. On +one of these visits she told me something that, at the time, I paid +little attention to, setting it down as one of her passing fancies; she +was interested in the working girls' unions. At Camille's and in the +boarding house she had fallen in with a group of girls of Socialistic +beliefs and, through them, had met their organizers and backers. She was +much more deeply involved than I guessed. Her fearlessness, her ardor +for anything new and exciting, making her a valuable addition to their +ranks. It carried her far, to the edge of tragedy." + +She turned to Mr. Janney: + +"Do you remember, Mr. Janney, one morning early in July, how I read you +an account of a strike riot among the shirtwaist makers when one of the +girls stabbed a policeman with a hatpin?" + +The old man nodded: + +"Yes, vaguely. I have a dim memory of arguing about it with you." + +"That was the time. Well, that girl was Florry. She lost her head +completely, stabbed the man, and in the tumult that followed, managed to +get away through the hall of a tenement house. She was hidden by friends +of hers, Russian socialists called Rychlovsky. I have met them; they +seem decent, kindly people, and they certainly were very good to her. +When I read you the article I had no more idea that the girl was Florry +than you had. It was not until the next morning that I received a letter +from her, telling me what she had done and where she was. + +"She wrote two letters, one to me and one to Mr. Price. He had told her +that he would spend his week-ends with the Hartleys at Cedar Brook and +she sent his there. Mine was delivered on the morning of July the +seventh but he did not get his until the same evening when he came to +Cedar Brook from the city. Each of us acted as promptly as we could, but +he went to her before I did, going in that night in his car. + +"It seems incredible that he should have done what he did, dared to take +such a risk. But when he found her cooped up in the rear room of a +tenement, lonely and frightened, he prevailed on her to go out with him +in his motor. He took her for a drive far up the Hudson, not returning +until after midnight. The Rychlovskys, who had missed her and were in a +state of alarm, were furious. When I went there the next day they were +vociferous in their desire to be rid of her, saying she would land them +all in jail. I was her sister; it was up to me, I must find another lair +for her. + +"I had heard of the house in Gayle Street from two girls, art students, +who had once lived there. It was the only place I could think of; and +when I found that the top floor was vacant, I realized that she could be +hidden in one of the rooms and no one suspect it was occupied. I engaged +it and paid the rent, telling the janitor the story of a friend coming +from the West. Then I took the key back to Florry. The Rychlovskys, +pacified by the thought that she would be out of their house, undertook +to furnish her with food. They made her promise that she would keep to +the room, light no gas at night, make no noise, and stay away from the +window. Florry was by this time thoroughly cowed and agreed to +everything. It was through their adroitness that the room passed as +vacant. They visited her in the evening, a time when many people came +and went in the house, bringing in her food and carrying away what was +left in newspapers. They had two extra keys made, one for me, one for +Mr. Price. I brought her money, Mr. Price books and magazines. He saw +her oftener than I did, and gave me news of her. This I asked him to do +by letter. I had once met him by Little Fresh Pond, and another time he +had telephoned. I was afraid of repeating the meeting at the pond--we +had both come upon Miss Rogers and Bbita on the way out--and I dreaded +being overheard at the 'phone. + +"All went well for two weeks, though we were terribly frightened, for +the policeman developed blood-poisoning, and for some time hung between +life and death. Then the Rychlovskys suggested a plan that seemed to me +the only way out of our dangers and difficulties. A friend of theirs, a +woman doctor, was one of a hospital unit sailing from Montreal to +France. This woman, allied with them in their Socialistic activities, +agreed to get Florry into her group as a hospital attendant, take her to +France and look after her. It struck us all as feasible and as lacking +in danger as any plan for her removal could be. The doctor was a woman +of high character who told the Rychlovskys she would keep Florry near +her as the unit was shorthanded and needed all the workers it could get. +The one person who showed no enthusiasm was Florry herself. I knew +perfectly what was the matter--she did not want to leave Chapman Price. +He tried to persuade her, was as worried and anxious as I was. The +situation between them had cleared to a definite understanding--when his +wife had obtained her divorce he would go to France and marry Florry +there. + +"And now I come to the day of the kidnaping, that dreadful, +unforgettable day! + +"The morning before--Thursday--I had seen her and found her in a state +of nervous indecision, weeping and miserable. I knew I was to be in town +with Mrs. Price the next day and told her if I could get time I would +come to her. Mrs. Price had told me how we were to divide the errands +and I realized, if I could finish mine earlier than she expected, I +would have a chance of seeing Florry. I had just been paid my salary and +that, with some money I had saved, I brought with me. My intention was +to give all this to Florry and implore her to go with the hospital unit, +which was scheduled to leave Montreal early the following week. + +"Things worked out as I had hoped. The commissions took less time than +Mrs. Price had calculated and I found that I would be able to spend a +few minutes with Florry. In case Bbita should mention the excursion +downtown, I ordered the driver to drop me at a bookbindery on the corner +of Gale Street. I could easily explain our stop there by saying that I +had left a book to be bound. + +"When I reached the room I found her in a state of hysterical +terror--she said the house was watched. Peeping out through the coarse +lace curtains that veiled the window, she had several times noticed a +man lounging about the corner. At first she had thought nothing of him, +but the day before he had reappeared, and stayed about the block most of +the afternoon covertly watching the entrance and the upper floor. I was +nearly as frightened as she was--the thing was only too probable. There +was no difficulty in getting her to go with the hospital ship. She had +only stayed on in the hope of seeing me and having me tell her what to +do. + +"I gave her the money and told her to wait until nightfall and then slip +out and go to the Rychlovskys. They had promised to help her in any way +they could, and with Bbita waiting in the cab, I couldn't go with her. +It was a simply hideous position to have to leave her that way. But it +was all I could think of--it came so unexpectedly I was stunned by it. + +"When I reached the bookbindery the taxi was gone! Can you imagine what +I felt? I told the truth when I said my first thought was that Bbita +might have played a joke on me. I _did_ think that, for my mind, +confused and crowded with deadly fears, could not take in a new +catastrophe. Then, when I saw Mrs. Price and realized that the child had +mysteriously disappeared, while with _me_, while in _my_ +charge--I--well, I hope I'll never have to live over moments like those +again. I had to keep one fact before my mind--to be quiet, to be cool, +not to do or say anything that might betray Florry. If I'd known what +you suspected, I couldn't have done it. But, of course, I hadn't any +idea then you thought I was implicated. + +"Florry had told me she would communicate with Mr. Price and he would +give me word of her. The telephone message that Miss Rogers tapped was +that word; all I received. It relieved me immensely, I began to feel the +dreadful strain relaxing, I began to think we were on the high road to +safety. And then came that day here in the office. Shall I ever forget +it!" + +She turned to Mrs. Janney: + +"If I had had the least idea of what was going to be done here, I would +have tried to get to you and have thrown myself on your mercy. But I was +completely unsuspecting and unprepared, and with Mr. Whitney as the +judge, representing the law, I did not dare to tell the truth, I _had_ +to lie. + +"As you saw, I lied as well as I could, puzzled at first, not knowing +what you were getting at, to what point it was all leading. Then, when +you caught me with the tapped message, I saw--I guessed how +circumstances had woven a net about me. I realized there was nothing to +be done but let you believe it, let you do what you wanted with me. You +couldn't _make_ me speak, and if I could stay silent till Florry was in +Europe, hidden, lost in the chaos of a country at war, it would be all +right." + +She swept their faces with a glance, half pleading, half triumphant. + +"She is there now--this morning Mr. Price had a cable from her. I have +told this to Mr. Whitney as well as the rest because I have +thought--shut up in O'Malley's flat I had much time for thinking things +out straight and clear--that after my explanation, no one would want, no +one would dare, to bring that unfortunate girl back here to face a +criminal charge. She has had her lesson, she will never forget it, the +man she wounded is back on the force as good as ever. No human being +with a conscience and a heart--" she looked at Whitney--"and you have +both--could want to make her pay more bitterly than she has. She is +safe, under intelligent supervision. She can work, be useful, where her +youth and strength and enthusiasm are needed. I did not trust you +before, Mr. Whitney, but I do now and I know that my trust is not +misplaced." + +A murmur, a concerted sound of agreement, came from her listeners. +Whitney, pushing his chair back from the desk, said gravely: + +"You can rest assured, Miss Maitland, that the matter will die here with +us to-day. As you say, your sister has had her punishment. She will stay +in France of course?" + +"Yes, make her home there, I think. When Mr. Price is free he is to go +over and marry her. He intends to sell his business out and offer his +services to the French government." + +There was a moment of silence, then Mrs. Janney spoke, clearing her +throat, her face flushed with feeling: + +"As you've said, Miss Maitland, none of this would have happened if +you'd seen fit to come to me. But it's no use going over that now--we've +all made mistakes and we're all sorry. What we--the Janneys--want to do +is to be fair, to be just, and now--if it is not too late--to make +amends. The only way you can show your willingness to forget and +forgive, is to come back at once to Grasslands and take things up where +you left them." + +The girl for a moment did not answer, her face reddening with a sudden +embarrassment. Mrs. Janney saw the blush, read it as reluctance and +exclaimed: + +"Oh, Miss Maitland, don't say you refuse. It's as if you wouldn't take +my hand held out in apology, in friendship." + +"No, no"--Esther was obviously distressed--"don't think that, Mrs. +Janney, it's not that. It's that I can't--I've--I've made another +engagement--I'm going to marry Mr. Ferguson." + + + + +CHAPTER XXX--MOLLY'S STORY + + +It's my place to finish, tell the end of the story and straighten it all +out. Some of it's been cleared up clean, with the people on the spot to +give the evidence, some of it we had to work out from what we knew and +what we guessed. Willitts, who was a gamy guy, told his tale from start +to finish, and loved doing it, they said, like an actor who'd rather be +dead in the spotlight than alive in the wings. Larkin's part we had to +put together from what we could get from Bbita and what Mrs. Price gave +up. + +Bbita, the way children do, saw plain and could tell what she saw as +accurate as a phonograph. It made tears come to hear the dear little +thing, so sweet and innocent, making us see that even the crooks she was +with couldn't help but love her. + +When Miss Maitland got out of the taxi at the bookbindery the driver +told the child that he knew her Daddy and could take her round to see +him while Miss Maitland was in the store. He said it wouldn't take long, +that Mr. Price was close by, and they would come back in a few minutes +and pick up Miss Maitland. Bbita was crazy to go, and he started, +giving her a box of chocolates to eat on the way. Of course she never +could tell where he went but it could not have been a long distance, or +Larkin--we all were agreed that he drove the cab--couldn't have reached +the Fifth Avenue house as soon as he did. The place was evidently a flat +over a garage. He told her her father was waiting there, went upstairs +with her, and gave her in charge of a woman called Marion who opened the +door for them. + +During the whole time she was gone she stayed here with Marion, who +every morning assured her her Daddy would come that day. She said Marion +was very good to her, gave her toys and candies, cooked her meals and +played games with her. She cried often and was homesick, and Marion +never scolded her but used to take her in her arms and kiss her and tell +her stories. She never saw the man again until he came to take her away, +but sometimes the bell rang and Marion went out on the stairs and talked +to some one. + +One evening Marion said she was going home; it would be a long drive and +she must be a good girl. Marion dressed her and then gave her a glass of +milk, and kissed her a great many times and cried. Bbita cried too, for +she was sorry to leave Marion, but she wanted to go home. After that the +man came and took her downstairs to the taxi and told her to be very +quiet and she'd soon be back at Grasslands. It was dark and they went +through the city and then she got very sleepy and laid down on the seat. + +No trace of Marion, Larkin's confederate, could be found, and in fact no +especial effort was made to do so. The man was dead, the woman, who had +evidently treated the child with affectionate care, had fled into the +darkness where she belonged. The family, even Mrs. Janney, was contented +to let things drop and make an end. + +When it came to Larkin we had to piece out a good deal. We agreed that +he had started in fair and honest, had tried to make good and had +failed. At just what point he changed we couldn't be sure, but Ferguson +thought it was after Mrs. Price threatened to end the investigation. +Then he realized that his big chance was slipping by, determined to get +something out of it, and hit on the kidnaping. It was easy to see how he +could worm all the data he wanted out of Mrs. Price. From what she said +he'd evidently pumped her at their last meeting in town, finding out +just what her plans were, even to the fact that she intended taking the +extra cab from the rank round the corner. _I_ thought that one thing +might have given him the whole idea. + +When they stopped at the book bindery he heard Miss Maitland tell Bbita +she would be gone a few minutes and knew that was his opportunity. He +took the child to the place he had ready for her, made a quick +change--not more than the shedding of his coat, cap and goggles--and ran +his car into the garage below, which of course he must have rented. Then +he lit out for the Fifth Avenue house, a bit late but ready to report in +case Miss Maitland didn't show up before him. Miss Maitland did--he must +have seen her go in--but he rang just the same, which showed what a +cunning devil he was. + +He must have been surprised when he didn't see anything in the papers, +but after he'd written the first "Clansmen" letter to Mrs. Price she +explained that and it made it smoother sailing for him. Knowing her as +well as he did, he planned the letters to scare her into silence, and +saw before he was through he had her exactly in the state he wanted. The +one place where his plot was weak was that an outsider had to drive the +rescue car. But he had to take a chance somewhere, and this was the best +place. He'd fixed it so neat that even if the outsider had informed on +him, he'd have been wary, and, as Ferguson thought, not shown up at all. + +He'd done it well; as well, we all agreed, as it could be done. What had +beaten him had been no man's cleverness, just something that neither he, +nor you, nor any of us could have foreseen. Ain't there a proverb about +the best laid plans of mice and men slipping up when you least expect +it? It was like the hand of something, that reached out sudden and came +down hard, laid him dead in the moment when the goal was in sight. + +As to Willitts, he was some boy! They found out that he was wanted in +England, well-known there as an expert safe-cracker and notorious jewel +thief. That's where he's gone, to live in a quiet little cell which will +be his home from this time forth. He said he hadn't been in New York +long before he heard of the Janney jewels and went into Mr. Price's +service. But he couldn't do anything while the family were in town. The +safe was right off the pantry--too many people about--and anyway it was +a new one, the finest kind, that would have baffled even his skill. He +would have left discouraged but one day Dixon let drop that the safe at +Grasslands was old-fashioned, put in years before by the former owners, +so he stayed on devoted and faithful. + +At Grasslands he had lots of time to try his hand on the ancient +contraption in the passage. He worked on it until he found the +combination and then he lay low for his opportunity. When the row came +and Mr. Price left, he stayed on with him. It was the best thing to do +as he could run in and out from Cedar Brook seeing the servants, with +whom he was careful to be friendly. + +Before this he'd got wise to the fact that something was up between Miss +Maitland and Mr. Price. He said it was his business to snoop and his +profession had got him into the way of doing it instinctive, but I'd set +it down as coming natural. Anyway he'd found out that there was a secret +between them; he'd surprise them murmuring in the hallways and the +library, quieting down quick if any one came along. He made the same +mistake as the rest of us, thought it was an affair of the heart and +grew mighty curious about it. He didn't explain why he was interested, +but if you asked me I'd say he had blackmail in the back of his head. + +On the afternoon of July the seventh he biked down from Cedar Brook to +take a look round and see how things were progressing. Familiar with the +ways of the house, he knew the family would be out and stole round past +Miss Maitland's study. No one was there, and, curious as he was, he +slipped in to do a little spying--Miss Maitland and Mr. Price separated +would be writing to each other and a letter might throw some light on +the darkness. + +He rummaged about among the papers but found nothing. Scattered over the +desk were bits of the trimming Miss Maitland had been sewing on; a pile +of the little rosebuds was lying on the top of her work basket. Reaching +over toward a bunch of letters he upset the basket, and, scared, he +swept up the contents with his handkerchief, putting them back as quick +as he could. This was the way he explained the presence of the rose in +the safe. He was shocked at any one thinking that he had tried to throw +suspicion on such a fine young lady. That night, taking the jewels, hot +and nervous, his glasses had blurred the way they do when your face +perspires. He had whisked out his handkerchief to wipe them, and no +doubt a rosebud lodged in the folds had fallen to the ground. Mr. +Ferguson didn't believe this--he thought the rose _was_ a plant--but I +_did_. It was one of those queer, unexpected things that will happen and +that, for me, always puts a crimp in circumstantial evidence. + +After that he went round to the kitchen and heard of the general sortie +for that evening. Then he knew the time had come. He biked back to Cedar +Brook, saw Mr. Price, and went to his lodgings. Here he found his +landlady's child sick with croup and offered to go for the doctor, whose +house was not far from Berkeley. It fitted in just right, for if there +was any inquiry into his movements he could furnish a good reason why he +was late at the movies. Before he got to Grasslands he hid his wheel by +the roadside and took a short cut through the woods, lying low on the +edge of them until he saw the kitchen lights go out. Crossing the lawn, +the dogs ran at him barking, then got his scent and quieted down. At the +balcony he slipped off his rain coat, put on sneakers, unlocked the +front door with Mr. Price's key, and crept in. The job didn't take him +ten minutes; just as he finished he saw the box of Mr. Janney's cigars +and helped himself to one. He rubbed off his finger prints with an acid +used for that purpose, left the broken chair just where it was and +departed. + +In the woods he lit the cigar, carelessly throwing the band on the +ground. Fifteen minutes later he was at the movies with the Grasslands +help. When he saw in the papers that a light had been seen by the safe +at one-thirty every fear he had died, for at that time he was back at +Cedar Brook helping his landlady look after the sick child. + +He was too smart a crook to disappear right on top of the robbery, and +hung around saying he was looking for another place. He met up with +Larkin but at first didn't know he was a detective. When the offer came +from Ferguson he took it, intending to stay a while, then say his folks +in the old country needed him and slip away to Spain. It was the day +after he'd accepted Ferguson's offer that he learned what Larkin was, +and saw that both he and the Janneys had their suspicions of Chapman +Price. This disturbed him, but he couldn't throw up the job he'd just +taken without exciting remark. To be ready, however, he dug up the +jewels--he'd buried them in the woods--and put them handy under the +flooring of his room. + +One day, looking over Ferguson's things, he came on the cigar band in +the box on the bureau. It gave him a jar, for he couldn't see why it was +put there. He'd heard from the servants about Ferguson and Miss Maitland +walking home that night through the woods and began to wonder if maybe +they'd found the band. The thought ruffled him up considerably, and then +he put it out of his mind, telling himself it was one from a cigar +Ferguson had brought from Grasslands and smoked in his room. +Nevertheless, to be on the safe side, he threw it away, very much on the +alert, as you may guess. + +It wasn't a week later that he had the interview with Ferguson about the +band. Then he saw by the young man's manner and words why the little +crushed circle of paper had a meaning of its own, and knew that the time +had come to vanish. He still felt safe enough to do this without haste, +not rousing any suspicion by a too sudden departure. His opportunity +came quickly--on Friday morning he heard Ferguson tell the butler that +he was going to town and would be away for a day or two; by the time he +came back his valet would be far afield. + +Right after Ferguson's departure he put the jewels in a bag, and, +telling the butler the boss had given him the day and night off, +prepared to leave. He was crossing the hall when the telephone rang--my +message--and being wary of danger, answered it. It was only a lady +asking for Mr. Ferguson, and, calm and steady as his voice had made me, +started out for the station. Mice and men again!--I was the mouse this +time. Gracious, what a battered mouse I was! + +Well--that's all. The tangled threads are straightened out and the word +"End" goes at the bottom of this page. I'm glad to write it, glad to be +once again where you can say what you think, and talk to people like +they were harmless human beings without any dark secrets in their pasts +or presents, and, Oh, Gee, how glad I am to be home! Back in my own +little hole, back where there's only one servant and she a coon, back +where I'm familiar with the food and know how to eat it, and blessedest +of all, back to my own true husband, who thinks there's no sun or moon +or stars when I'm out of the house. I'm going to get a new rug for the +parlor, a fur-trimmed winter suit, a standing lamp with a Chinese shade, +a pair of skates--oh, dear, I'm at the bottom of the page and there's no +room for "End," but I _must_ squeeze in that I got that reward--Mrs. +Janney said I'd earned every penny of it--and a wrist watch with a +circle of diamonds round it from Dick Ferguson, and--oh, pshaw! if I +keep on I'll never stop, so here goes, on a separate line + + + + + + + THE END + + + BOOKS BY GERALDINE BONNER + + _Miss Maitland, Private Secretary_ + _Treasure and Trouble Therewith_ + _The Girl at Central_ + _The Black Eagle Mystery_ + + + + + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISS MAITLAND PRIVATE SECRETARY + *** + + + + + + + +A Word from Project Gutenberg + + +We will update this book if we find any errors. + +This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/35504 + +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 + http://www.gutenberg.org/license. + + + + | + + .. _pg-machine-header: + + .. container:: + + Title: Miss Maitland Private Secretary + + Author: Geraldine Bonner + + Release Date: March 06, 2011 [EBook #35504] + + Language: English + + Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + | + + .. _pg-start-line: + + \*\*\* START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISS MAITLAND PRIVATE SECRETARY \*\*\* + + | + | + | + | + + .. _pg-produced-by: + + .. container:: + + Produced by Darleen Dove, Mary Meehan, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. + + | + + This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries. + + +.. role:: small-caps + :class: small-caps + +.. figure:: images/cover.jpg + :align: center + +.. class:: center x-large + + | MISS MAITLAND PRIVATE SECRETARY + | BY GERALDINE BONNER + +.. class:: center small + + | AUTHOR OF "THE EMIGRANT TRAIL," "THE GIRL AT CENTRAL," "TREASURE AND TROUBLE THEREWITH," ETC. + + | ILLUSTRATED BY + | A. I. KELLER + + | D. APPLETON AND COMPANY + | NEW YORK LONDON + | 1919 + + | COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY + | D. APPLETON AND COMPANY + + | COPYRIGHT 1918, 1919, BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY + + | PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA + + +.. _`Rising into the white wash of moonlight came Suzanne`: + +.. figure:: images/illus1.jpg + :align: center + :alt: Rising into the white wash of moonlight came Suzanne + + Rising into the white wash of moonlight came Suzanne + + +.. contents:: CONTENTS + :depth: 1 + :backlinks: entry + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS +===================== + + +| `Rising into the white wash of moonlight came Suzanne`_ +| `You've done one thing to me that you are going to regret`_ +| `His face was ludicrous in its enraged enmity`_ +| `Ferguson saw him in silhouette, a large, humped body with bent head`_ + + + +.. class:: center x-large + +MISS MAITLAND PRIVATE SECRETARY + + + + +CHAPTER I—THE PARTING OF THE WAYS +================================= + +Chapman Price was leaving Grasslands. Events had been rapidly advancing +to that point for the last three months, slowly advancing for the last +three years. Everybody who knew the Prices and the Janneys said it was +inevitable, and people who didn't know them but read about them in the +"society papers" could give quite glibly the reasons why Mrs. Chapman +Price was going to separate from her husband. + +His friends said it was her fault; Suzanne Price was enough to drive any +man away from her—selfish, exacting, bad tempered, a spoiled child of +wealth. Chappie had been a first-rate fellow when he married her and +she'd nagged and tormented him past bearing. *Her* friends had a +different story; Chapman Price was no good, had neglected her, was an +idler and a spendthrift. Hadn't the Janneys set him up in business over +and over and found it hopeless? What he had wanted was her money, and +people had told her so; her mother had begged her to give him up, but +she would have him and learned her lesson, poor girl! Those in the +Janney circle said there would have been a divorce long before if it +hadn't been for the child. *She* had held them together, kept them in a +sort of hostile, embattled partnership for years. And then, finally, +that link broke and Chapman Price had to go. + +There had been a last conclave in the library that morning, Mrs. Janney +presiding. Then they separated, silent and gloomy—a household of eight +years, even an uncongenial one, isn't broken up without the sense of +finality weighing on its members. Chapman had gone to his rooms and +flung orders at his valet to pack up, and Suzanne had gone to hers, +thrown herself on the sofa, and sniffed salts with her eyes shut. Mr. +and Mrs. Janney repaired to the wide shaded balcony and there talked it +over in low tones. They were immensely relieved that it was at last +settled, though of course there would be the unpleasantness of a divorce +and the attending gossip. Mr. Janney hated gossip, but his wife, who had +risen from a Pittsburg suburb to her present proud eminence, was too +battle-scarred a veteran to mind a little thing like that. + +As they talked, their eyes wandered over a delightful prospect. First a +strip of velvet lawn, then a terrace and balustraded walk, and beyond +that the enameled brilliance of long gardens where flowers grew in +masses, thick borders, and delicate spatterings, bright against the +green. Back of the gardens were more lawns, shaven close and dappled +with tree shadows, then woods—Mrs. Janney's far acres—on this fine +morning all shimmering and astir with a light, salt-tinged breeze. +Grasslands was on the northern side of Long Island, only half a mile +from the Sound through the seclusion of its own woods. + +It was quite a show place, the house a great, rambling, brown building +with slanting, shingled roofs and a flanking rim of balconies. Behind it +the sun struck fire from the glass of long greenhouses, and the tops of +garages, stables and out-buildings rose above concealing shrubberies and +trellises draped with the pink mantle of the rambler. Mrs. Janney had +bought it after her position was assured, paying a price that made all +Long Island real estate men glad at heart. + +Sitting in a wicker chair, a bag of knitting hanging from its arm, she +looked the proper head for such an establishment. She was fifty-four, +large—increasing stoutness was one of her minor trials—and was still a +handsome woman who "took care of herself." Her morning dress of white +embroidered muslin had been made by an artist. Her gray hair, creased by +a "permanent wave," was artfully disposed to show the fine shape of her +head and conceal the necessary switch. She was too naturally endowed +with good taste to indicate her wealth by vulgar display, and her hands +showed few rings; the modest brooch of amethysts fastening the neck of +her bodice was her sole ornament. And this was all the more commendable, +as Mrs. Janney had wonderful jewels of which she was very proud. + +Five years before, she had married Samuel Van Zile Janney, who now sat +opposite her clothed in white flannels and looking distressed. He was a +small, thin, elderly man, with a pointed gray beard and a general air of +cool, dry finish. No one had ever thought old Sam Janney would marry +again. He had lost his wife ages ago and had been a sort of historic +landmark for the last twenty years, living desolately at his club and +knowing everybody who was worth while. Of course he had family, endless +family, and thought a lot of it and all that sort of thing. So his +marriage to the Pittsburg widow came as a shock, and then his world said: +"Oh, well, the old chap wants a home and he's going to get it—a choice +of homes—the house on upper Fifth Avenue, the place at Palm Beach and +Grasslands." + +It had been a very happy marriage, for Sam Janney with his traditions +and his conventions was a person of infinite tact, and he loved and +admired his wife. The one matter upon which they ever disagreed was +Suzanne. She had been foolishly indulged, her caprices and +extravagances were maddening, her manners on occasions extremely bad. +Mr. Janney, who had beautiful manners of his own, deplored it, also the +amount of money her mother allowed her; for the fortune was all Mrs. +Janney's, Suzanne having been left dependent on her bounty. + +His wife, who had managed everything else so well, resented these +criticisms on what should have been the completest example of her +competence. She also resented them because she knew they were true. With +all her cleverness and all her capability she had not succeeded with her +daughter. The girl had got beyond her; the unfortunate marriage with +Chapman Price had been the climax of a youth of willfulness and +insubordination. Suzanne's affairs, Suzanne's future, Suzanne herself +were subjects that husband and wife avoided, except, as in the present +instance, when they were the only subjects in both their minds. + +Presently their low-toned murmurings were interrupted by the appearance +of Dixon, the butler, announcing lunch. + +"Mrs. Price," he said, "will not be down—she has a headache." + +Mrs. Janney rose, looking at the man. He had been in her service for +years, was one of the first outward and visible signs of her growth in +affluence. She was sure that he knew what had happened, but her face +was unrevealing as a mask, as she said: + +"See that she gets something. Will Mr. Price take his lunch upstairs?" + +"No, Madam," returned the man quietly, "Mr. Price is coming down." + +It was a ghastly meal—three of them eating sumptuous food, waited on by +two men hardly less silent than they were. It wouldn't have been so +unbearable if Bébita, Suzanne's daughter, had been there to lift the +curse off it with her artless chatter, or Esther Maitland, the social +secretary, who had acquired a habit of talking with Mr. Janney when the +rest of the family were held in the dumbness of wrath. But Bébita was +spending the morning with a little chum and Miss Maitland was lunching +with a friend in the village. + +Chapman Price, as if anxious to show how little he cared, ate everything +that was passed, and prolonged the misery by second helpings. Mrs. +Janney could have beaten him, she was so angry. Once she glanced at him +and met his eyes, insolently defiant, and as full of hostility as her +own. They were vital eyes, dark and bold, and were set in a handsome +face. At the time of his marriage he had been known as "Beauty Price" +and it was his good looks which had caught the capricious fancy of +Suzanne. In the eight years since then they had suffered, the firmly +modeled contours had grown thin and hard, the mouth had set in an ugly +line, the brows had creased by a frown of sulky resentment. But he was +still a noticeable figure, six feet, lean and agile, with a skin as +brown as a nut and a crown of black hair brushed to a glossy smoothness. +Many women continued to describe Chapman Price as "a perfect Adonis." + +When they rose from the table he stood aside to let his parents-in-law +pass out before him. They brushed by, feeling exceedingly uncomfortable +and wanting to get away as quickly as their dignity would permit. They +dreaded a last flare-up of his temper, notoriously violent and +uncontrolled, one of the attributes that had made him so unacceptable. +In the hall at the stair foot they half turned to him, swept him with +cold looks and were mumbling vague sounds that might have been dismissal +or farewell, when he suddenly raised his voice in a loud, combative +note: + +"Oh, don't bother to be polite. There's no love between us and there +needn't be any hypocrisies. You want to get rid of me and I want to go. +But before I do, I'd like to say something." He drew a step nearer, his +face suddenly suffused with a dark flush, his eyes set and narrowed. +"You've done one thing to me that you're going to regret—stolen my +child. Yes," in answer to a protesting sound from Mr. Janney, "*stolen* +her—that's what I said. You think you can hide behind your money bags +and do what you like. Maybe you can nine times, but there's a tenth when +things don't work the way you've expected. Watch out for it—it's due +now." + + +.. _`You've done one thing to me that you are going to regret`: + +.. figure:: images/illus2.jpg + :align: center + :alt: You've done one thing to me that you are going to regret + + You've done one thing to me that you are going to regret + +His voice was raised, loud, furious, threatening. The dining room door +flew open and Dixon appeared on the threshold in alarmed consternation. +Mr. Janney stepped forward belligerently: + +"Chapman, now look here—" + +Mrs. Janney laid a hand on her husband's arm: + +"Don't answer him, Sam," then to Chapman, her face stony in its +controlled passion, "I want no more words with you. Our affairs are +finished. Kindly leave the house as soon as possible." She turned to the +butler who was staring at them with dropped jaw: "Shut that door, Dixon, +and stay where you belong." The sound of footsteps at the stair-head +caught her ear. "The other servants are coming: we'll have an audience +for this pleasant scene. We'd better go, Sam, as Chapman doesn't seem to +have heard my request for him to leave, the only thing for us is to +leave ourselves." + +She swept her husband off across the hall toward the balcony. Behind +them the young man's voice rose: + +"Oh don't have any fears. I'm going. But I may come back—that's what +you want to remember—I may come back to settle the score." + +Then they heard his footsteps mounting the stairs in a long, leaping +run. + +In his own room he found his valet, Willitts, a small, fair-haired young +Englishman, closing the trunks. The door was open and he had a suspicion +that the footsteps Mrs. Janney had heard were probably Willitts'. He +didn't care, he didn't care what Willitts had heard. The man knew +anyhow; they *all* knew. There wasn't a servant in the house or a soul +in the village who wouldn't by to-morrow be telling how the Janneys had +thrown him out and were planning to get possession of his child. + +He strode about the room, tumbled the neat piles of cravats and +handkerchiefs on the bureau, yanked up the blinds. In his still seething +passion he muttered curses at everything, the clothes that lay across +chair backs, the boots that he kicked as he walked, finally the valet +who once got in his way. The man made no answer, did not appear to +notice it, but went on with his work, silent, unobtrusive, competent. +Presently Chapman became quieter; the storm was receding. He fell into a +chair, sat sunk in moody reflection, and, after studying the shining +toes of his shoes for some minutes, looked at the man and said, "Forget +it, Willitts. I was mad straight through." + +It may have been a capacity to make such amends that caused all servants +to like Chapman Price. Willitts, who had been in his service for nearly +a year, was known to be devoted to him. + +An hour later, when they left, the house had an air of desertion. The +large lower hall, with vistas of stately rooms through arched doorways, +was as silent as the Sleeping Beauty's palace. Chapman's glance swept it +all—rich and still, gleams of parquette showing beyond the Persian +rugs, curtains too heavily splendid for the breeze to stir, flowers in +glowing masses, the big motor, visible through the wide-flung hall door, +a finishing touch in the picture. It was the perfect expression of a +carefully devised luxury, a luxury which for the last eight years had +lapped him in slothful ease. + +As he came out on the verandah steps a voice hailed him and he stopped, +the sullen ill humor of his face breaking into a smile. Across the lawn, +running with fleet steps, came his daughter Bébita. Laughing and gay +with welcome, she was as fresh as a morning rose. Her hat, slipped to +her neck, showed the glistening gold of her hair back-blown in ruffled +curls; her rapid passage threw her dress up over her bare, sunburned +knees, and her little feet in black-strapped slippers sped over the +grass. Healthy, happy, surrounded by love which she returned with a +child's sweet democracy, she was enchanting and Chapman adored her. + +"Where are you going, Popsy?" she cried and, dodging round the back of +the motor, came panting up the steps. Chapman sat down on the top, and +drew her between his knees. Otto, the chauffeur, and Willitts with the +bags, watched them with covert interest, ready to avert their eyes if +Chapman should look their way. The nurse, an elderly woman, came slowly +across the grass, also watching. + +"To town," said the young man, scrutinizing the lovely, rosy face, with +its deep blue eyes raised to his. + +"For how long?" She was used to her father going to town and not +reappearing for several days. + +"Oh, I don't know; longer than usual, though, I guess. Going to miss +me?" + +"Um, I always miss you, Popsy. Will you bring me something when you come +back?" + +"Yes, or maybe I'll send it. What do you want?" + +"A 'lectric torch—one that shines. Polly's got one"—Polly was the +little friend she had been visiting—"I want one like Polly's." + +"All right. A 'lectric torch." + +"I'm going to get one, Annie," she cried triumphantly to the nurse; +"Popsy's going to send me one." Then turning back to her father, "Take +me to the station with you?" + +Willitts and the chauffeur exchanged a glance. The nurse made a quick +forward movement, suddenly gently authoritative: + +"No, no, darling. You can't drive now. It's time to go in and take jour +rest." + +Bébita looked mutinous, but her father, drawing her to him and kissing +her, rose: + +"I can't honey-bun. I'm in a hurry and there wouldn't be any fun just +driving down to the village and back. You run along with Annie now and +as soon as I get to town I'll buy you the torch and send it." + +The nurse mounted the steps, took the child's hand, and together they +stood watching Chapman as he got in. Willitts took the seat beside the +chauffeur, adroitly disposing his legs among a pile of suitcases, golf +bags, umbrellas and walking sticks. As the car started Chapman looked +back at his daughter. She was regarding him with the intent, grave +interest, a little wistful, with which children watch a departure. At +the sight of his face, she smiled, pranced a little, and called: + +"Good-by, Popsy dear. Don't forget the torch. Come back soon," and waved +her free hand. + +Chapman gave an answering wave and the big car rolled off with a cool +crackle of gravel. + +The village—the spotless, prosperous village of Berkeley enriched by +the great estates about it—was a half mile from Grasslands' +wrought-iron gates. The road passed through woods, opening here and +there to afford glimpses of emerald lawns backed by large houses, with +the slope of awnings above their balconies. On either side of this +highway ran a shady path, worn hard by the feet of pedestrians and the +wheels of bicycles. + +As the Janney motor turned out into the road a young woman was walking +along one of these paths, returning to Grasslands. She appeared to be +engrossed in thought, her step loitering, her eyes down-cast, a slight +line showing between her brows. Out of range of the sun she had let her +parasol droop over her shoulder and its green disk made a charming +background for her head. She wore no hat and against the taut silk her +hair showed a glossy, burnished brown. It was beautiful hair, growing +low on her forehead and waving backward in loose undulations to the +thick knot at the nape of her neck. Her skin was pale, her eyes, under +long brows that lifted slightly at the outer ends, deep-set, narrow and +dark. She was hardly handsome, but people noticed her, wondered why they +did, and then said she was "artistic-looking," or maybe it was just +personality; anyway, say what you like, there was something about her +that caught your eye. Dressed entirely in white, a slim, sunburned hand +coiled round the parasol handle, her throat left bare by a sailor +collar, she was as trim, as flecklessly dainty, graceful and comely as a +picture-girl painted on the green canvas of the trees. + +At the sight of her Chapman, who had been lounging in the tonneau, +started and his morose eye brightened. As the motor ran toward her, she +looked up, saw who it was, and in the moment of passing, inclined her +head in a grave salutation. Chapman leaned forward and touched the +chauffeur on the shoulder. + +"Just stop for a minute, Otto, I want to speak to Miss Maitland." + +She did not see that the car had stopped or hear the footstep on the +grass behind her. Chapman's voice was low: + +"Hullo, Esther. Don't be in such a hurry. I'm going." + +She wheeled, evidently startled, her face disturbed and unsmiling. + +"Oh! Do you mean *really* going?" + +"Yes. Parting of the ways—all that sort of thing." + +He eyed her with a curious, watching interest and she returned the look, +her own uneasily intent. + +"Why do you stop to tell me that," was what she said. "Everybody knew it +was coming." + +He shrugged and then smiled, a smile full of meaning: + +"I thought you'd like to hear it—from *me*, first hand. I'll be a free +man in a year." + +She stood for a moment looking at the ground, then lifting the parasol +over her head, said: + +"If you're going to catch the three forty-five you'd better hurry." + +His smile deepened, showed a roguish malice, and as he turned from her, +raising his hat, he murmured just loud enough for her to hear: + +"Thanks for reminding me. I wouldn't miss that train for a farm—I'm +devilish keen to get to the city." + +He ran back to the waiting motor and the girl resumed her walk, her step +even slower than before, her face down-drooped in frowning reverie. + +There was no chair car on the three forty-five and Chapman had to travel +in the common coach, Willitts and the luggage crowded into the seat +behind him. It was an hour and a half run to the Pennsylvania Station +and he spent the time thinking over the situation and arranging his +future. His business—Long Island real estate—had been allowed to go to +the dogs. He would have to get busy in earnest, and, with his friends +and large acquaintance to throw things in his way, he could put it on a +paying basis. His expenses would have to be cut down to the bone. He'd +give up his chambers, a suite in a bachelor apartment—Willitts could +find him a cheap room somewhere—and of course he'd give up Willitts. +That had been already arranged and the faithful soul had asked leave to +help him in the move and stay with him till a new job was found. He +would keep his car—it would be necessary in his business—and could be +stored in the garage at Cedar Brook where he'd spend his week-ends with +the Hartleys. Joe Hartley was one of his best friends, knew all about +his marriage and had counseled a separation more than a year ago. He'd +probably spend a good deal of his time at Cedar Brook, it was a growing +place; unfortunate that it should be the next station after Berkeley, +but it could not be helped. He was bound to run into the Janney outfit +and he'd have to get used to it. + +The train was entering the tunnel when he gave Willitts his +instructions—go to the apartment and pack up, then see about a room. He +himself would look up some places he knew of, and if he found anything +suitable he'd come back to the apartment and the things could be moved +to-morrow. They separated in the depot, Willitts and the luggage in a +taxi, Chapman on foot. But that part of the city to which he took his +way, dingy, unkempt, remote from the section where his kind dwelt, was +not a place where Chapman Price, fallen from his high estate as he was, +would have chosen to house himself. + + + + +CHAPTER II—MISS MAITLAND GETS A LETTER +====================================== + +It was Thursday morning, three days after her husband's departure, and +Suzanne was sitting in the window seat of her room looking across the +green distances to where the roof of Dick Ferguson's place, Council +Oaks, rose above the tree tops. Council Oaks adjoined Grasslands, there +was a short cut which connected them—a path through the woods. Before +Mrs. Janney bought Grasslands the path had become moss-grown, almost +obliterated. Then when she took possession the two households wore it +bare again. The servants found it shortened the walk from kitchen to +kitchen; Mr. Janney often footed its green windings; Dick Ferguson's +father had been one of his cronies, and Dick Ferguson himself was the +most constant traveler of them all. + +Council Oaks was a very old place; it had been in the Ferguson family +since the days when the British governors rolled over Long Island in +their lumbering coaches. Before that the Indians had used it for a +council ground, their tepees pitched under the shade of the four giant +oaks from which it took its name. The Fergusons had kept the farm house, +built after the Revolution, adding wings to it, till it now extended in +a long, sprawl of white buildings, with the original worn stone as a +step to its knockered front door, and the low, raftered ceilings, plank +floors, and deep-mouthed fireplaces of its early occupation. + +There Dick Ferguson lived all summer, going to town at intervals to +attend to the business of the Ferguson estate, for, like the young man +in the Bible, he had great possessions. The dead and gone Fergusons had +been canny and thrifty, bought land far beyond the city limits and sat +in their offices and waited until the town grew round it. It was known +among the present owner's intimates that he disapproved of this method +of enrichment, and that his extensive charities and endowments were an +attempt to pay back what he felt he owed. He was very silent about them, +only a few knew of the many secret channels through which the Ferguson +millions were being diverted to the relief of the people. + +But none of this seriousness showed on the outside. If you didn't know +him well Dick Ferguson was the last person you would suspect of a sense +of responsibility or a view of life that was anything but easy-going and +light-hearted. People described him as a nice chap, not a bit spoiled by +his money, just a big, jolly boy, simple and unaffected. He looked the +part with his long, lank figure, leggy as a young colt, his shock of +light brown hair that never would lie flat, his freckled, irregular face +with gray eyes that had an engaging way of closing when he laughed. He +did this a good deal and it may have been one of the reasons why so many +people liked him. And he also had a capacity for listening to +long-winded tales of trouble, which may have been another. He was +twenty-nine years old and still unmarried, and that was his own fault as +any one would tell you. + +When Sam Janney married the Pittsburg widow Dick Ferguson became a +friend of the family. He fitted in very well, for he was sympathetic and +understanding and the Janneys had troubles to tell. He heard all about +Chapman's shortcomings; a little from old Sam who was not expansive, +more from Mrs. Janney, and most from Suzanne. He was very sorry for her +and gave her good advice. "A poor little bit of bluff," he called her to +himself, and then would stroll over to Grasslands and spend an hour with +her trying to cheer her up. + +He spent a good many hours this way and the time came when Suzanne began +to wait and watch for his coming. + +Sitting now in the cushioned window seat she was wondering if he would +come that morning and she could get him off in the garden and tell him +that Chapman was gone. She saw herself saying it with lowered eyes and +delicately demure phrases. She would frankly admit she was glad it was +over, glad she would be free once more, for in the autumn she would go +to Reno and begin proceedings for a divorce. + +At this thought she subsided against the cushions, and closed her eyes +smiling softly. Seen thus, the bright sunlight tempered by filmy +curtains, she was a pretty woman, looking very girlish for her +twenty-eight years. This was partly due to her extreme slenderness and +partly to her blonde coloring. Both had been preserved with sedulous +care: the one matter in which she exercised self-restraint was her food, +the one occasion on which she showed patience was when her maid was +washing her hair with a solution of peroxide. + +Every window in the large, luxurious room was open and through them +drifted a flow of air, scented with the sea and the breath of flowers. +Then rising on the stillness came the sound of voices—a man's and a +woman's—from the balcony below. They were Mr. Janney's and Miss +Maitland's—the secretary was preparing to read the morning papers to +her employer. + +Suzanne opened her eyes and sat up, the smile dying from her lips. The +dreamy complacence left her face and was replaced by a look of brooding +irritation. It changed her so completely that she ceased to be +pretty—suddenly showed her years, and was revealed as a woman, already +fading, preyed upon by secret vexations. + +She rose adjusting her dress, a marvelous creation of thin white +material with floating edges of lace. She went to the mirror, powdered +her face and touched her lips with a stick of red salve, then studied +her reflection. It should have been satisfying, delicate, fragile, a +lovely, ethereal creature, with baby blue eyes and silky, maize-colored +hair. It was not to be believed that any man could look at Esther +Maitland when she was by—and yet—and yet—! She turned from the mirror +with an angry mutter and went downstairs. + +On the balcony Miss Maitland was looking over the papers with Mr. Janney +opposite waiting to be read to. Suzanne sat down near them where she +could command the place in the woods where the path from Council Oaks +struck into the lawn. With a sidelong eye she noted the Secretary's hand +on the edge of the paper—narrow, satin-skinned, with fingers finely +tapering and pink-tipped. *Her* fingers were short and spatulate, +showing her common blood, and all the pink on them had to be applied +with a chamois. Miss Maitland began to read—the war news first was the +rule—and her voice was a pleasure to hear, cultivated, soft, musical. +Suzanne, for all her expensive education and subsequent efforts, had +never been able to refine hers; the ugly Pittsburg burr would crop out. + +A gnawing fancy that she had been fighting against for weeks rose +suddenly into jealous conviction. This girl—a penniless nobody—had a +quality, an air, a distinction, that she with all her advantages had +never been able to acquire, *could* never acquire. It was something +innate, something you were born with, something that made you fitted for +any sphere. Immovable, apparently absorbed in the reading, Suzanne began +to think how she could induce her mother to dispense with the services +of the Social Secretary. + +When the war news was finished Miss Maitland passed on to the news of +the day. On this particular morning it was varied and interesting: A +Western senator had attacked the President's policy with unseemly vigor; +the mysterious murder of a woman in Chicago had developed a new suspect; +a California mob had nearly killed a Japanese student; and in the New +York loft district a strike of shirtwaist makers had attained the +proportions of a riot in which one of the pickets had stabbed a +policeman with a hatpin. + +Mr. Janney was shocked at these horrors, but he always liked to hear +them. Miss Maitland had to stop reading and listen to a theory he had +evolved about the Chicago murder—it was the woman's husband and he +demonstrated how this was possible. Then he took up the shirtwaist +strike with a fussy disapproval—they got nothing by violence, only set +the public against them and their cause. Miss Maitland was inclined to +argue about it; thought there was something to say for their methods and +said it. + +Suzanne listened uncomprehending, unable to join in or to follow. She +had heard such arguments before and had to sit silent, feeling a fool. +The girl didn't know her place, talked as if she were their equal, +talked to Dick that way, and Dick had been interested, giving her an +attention he never gave Suzanne. Mr. Janney was doing it now, leaning +out of his chair, voicing his hope that a speedy vengeance would +overtake the picket who had made her escape in the mêlée. + +The conversation was brought to an end by the appearance of Mrs. Janney. +It was time for the mail; Otto had gone for it an hour ago. Before its +arrival Mrs. Janney wanted their answers about two dinner invitations +which had just come by telephone. One was for herself and Sam—Sunday +night at the Delavalles—and the other was from Dick Ferguson for +to-night—all of them, very informally—just himself and Ham Lorimer who +was staying there. + +Mr. Janney agreed to both and in answer to her mother's glance Suzanne +said languidly, "Yes, she'd go to-night—there was nothing else to do." + +"And he wants you too, Miss Maitland," said Mrs. Janney, turning to the +Secretary. "You'll come, won't you?" + +Miss Maitland said she would and that it was very kind of Mr. Ferguson +to ask her. Mr. and Mrs. Janney exchanged a gratified glance; they were +much attached to the Secretary and felt that their lordly circle ignored +her existence more than was necessary or kindly. Suzanne said nothing, +but the edges of her small upper teeth set close on her under lip, and +her nostrils quivered with a deep-drawn breath. + +Mrs. Janney gave orders for messages of acceptance to be sent, then sank +into a chair, remarking to her husband: + +"I'm glad you'll go to the Delavalles. It's to be a large dinner. I'll +wear my emeralds." + +To which Mr. Janney murmured: + +"By all means, my dear. The Delavalles will like to see them." + +Mrs. Janney's emeralds were famous; they had once belonged to Maria +Theresa. As old Sam thought of them he smiled, for he knew why his wife +had decided to wear them. In her climbing days, before her marriage to +him had secured her position, the Delavalles had snubbed her. Now she +was going to snub them, not in any obvious, vulgar way, but finely as +was her wont, with the assistance of himself and Maria Theresa. + +The motor came into view gliding up the long drive and the waiting +group roused into expectant animation. Mr. Janney rose, kicking his +trouser legs into shape, Miss Maitland gathered up the papers, and Mrs. +Janney went to the top of the steps. In the tonneau, her body encircled +by Annie's restraining arm, Bébita stood, waving an electric torch and +caroling joyfully: + +"It's come—it's come. It was sent to me, in a box, with my name on it." + +She leaped out, rushing up the steps to display her treasure, Annie +following with the mail. There was quite a bunch of it which Mrs. Janney +distributed—several for Sam, a pile for herself, one for Suzanne and +one for Miss Maitland. They settled down to it amid a crackling of torn +envelopes, Bébita darting from one to the other. + +She tried her mother first: + +"Mummy, look. You just press this and the light comes out at the other +end." + +Suzanne's eyes on her letter did not lift, and Bébita laid a soft little +hand on the tinted cheek: + +"Mummy, do *please* look." + +Suzanne pushed the hand away with an angry movement. + +"Let me alone, Bébita," she said sharply and, getting up, thrust the +child out of her way and went into the house. + +For a moment Bébita was astonished. Her mother, who was so often cross +to other people, was rarely so to her. But the torch was too enthralling +for any other subject to occupy her thoughts and she turned to her +grandfather, reading a business communication held out in front of his +nose for he had on the wrong glasses. She crowded in under his arm and +sparked the torch at him waiting to see his delighted surprise. But he +only drew her close, kissed her cheek and murmured without moving his +eyes: + +"Yes, darling. It's wonderful." + +That was not what she wanted so she tried her grandmother: + +"Gran, *do* look at my torch." + +Gran looked, not at the torch at all but at Bébita's face, smiled into +it, said, "Dearest, it's lovely and I'm so glad it's come," and went +back to her reading. + +It was all disappointing, and Bébita, as a last resource, had to try +Miss Maitland, who, if not a relation, was always sympathetic and +responsive. The Secretary was reading too, holding her letter up high, +almost in front of her face. Bébita laid a sly finger on the top of it, +drew it down and sparked the torch right at Miss Maitland. + +In the shoot of brilliant light the Secretary's face was like that of a +stranger—hard and thin, the mouth slightly open, the eyes staring +blankly at Bébita as if they had never seen her before. For a second the +child was dumb, held in a scared amazement, then backing away she +faltered: + +"Why—why—how funny you look!" + +The words seemed to bring Miss Maitland back to her usual, pleasant +aspect. She drew a deep breath, smiled and said: + +"I was thinking, that was all—something I was reading here. The torch +is beautiful; you must let me try it, but not now, I have to go. I've +read the papers to Gramp and I've work to do in my study." + +Any one who knew Miss Maitland well might have noticed a forced +sprightliness in her voice. But no one was listening; Suzanne had gone +and Mr. and Mrs. Janney were engrossed in their correspondence. She +stole a look at them, saw them unheeding and, with a farewell nod to +Bébita, rose and crossed the balcony. As she entered the house, the will +that had made her smile, maintained her voice at its clear, fresh note, +relaxed. Her face sharpened, its soft curves grew rigid, her lips closed +in a narrow line. With noiseless steps she ran through the wide foyer +hall and down a passage that led to the room, reserved for her use and +called her study. Here, locking the door, she came to a stand, her hands +clasped against her breast, her eyes fixed and tragic, a figure of +consternation. + + + + +CHAPTER III—ANOTHER LETTER AND WHAT FOLLOWED IT +=============================================== + +Suzanne, her letter crumpled in her hand, had gone directly to her own +room. There she read it for the second time, its baleful import sinking +deeper into her consciousness with every sentence. It was in typewriting +and bore the Berkeley postmark: + + ":small-caps:`Dear Mrs. Price`: + + "This is just a line to give your memory and your conscience a + jog. Your bridge debts are accumulating. Also, I hear, there + are dressmakers and milliners in town who are growing restive. + If there was insufficient means I wouldn't bother you, but any + one who dresses and spends as you do hasn't that excuse. + Perhaps you don't know what is being said and *felt*. Believe + me you wouldn't like it; neither would Mrs. Janney. It is for + her sake that I am warning you. I don't want to see her hurt + and humiliated as she would be if this comes out in *The + Eavesdropper*, and it will unless you act quickly. 'There's a + chiel among you takin' notes' and that chiel's had a line on + you for some time. So take these words to heart and as the boys + say, 'Come across.' + + ":small-caps:`A Friend.`" + +Ever since the opening of the season the summer colony of which Berkeley +was the hub had been the subject of paragraphs—more or less +scandalous—appearing in *The Eavesdropper*. The paper, a scurrilous +weekly, had evidently some inside informer, for most of the disclosures +were true and could only have been obtained by a member of the +community. Suzanne, whose debts would make racy reading, had quaked +every time she opened it. So far she had been spared, and she had hoped +to escape by a gradual clearing off of her obligations. But she had not +been able to do it—unforeseen things had happened. And now the dreaded +had come to pass—she would be written up in *The Eavesdropper*. + +Though her allowance had been princely she had kept on going over it +ever since her marriage and her mother had kept on covering the deficit. +But last autumn Mrs. Janney had lost both patience and temper and put +her foot down with a final stamp. Then the winter had come, a feverish, +crowded winter of endless parties and endless card playing, and Suzanne +had somehow gone over it again, gone over—she didn't dare to think of +what she owed. Tradespeople had threatened her, she was afraid to go to +her mother, she told lies and made promises, and at that juncture a +woman friend acquainted her with the mystery of stocks—easy money to be +made in speculation. She had tried that and made a good deal—almost +cleared her score—and then in April all her stocks suddenly went down. +Inquiries revealed the fact that stocks did not always stay down and +reassured she set forth on a zestful orgy of renewed bridge and summer +outfitting. But the stocks never came up, they remained down, as far +down as they could get, against the bottom. + +She felt as if she was there herself as she reviewed her position. + +She couldn't let it be known. She would be ruined, called dishonest; the +yellow papers might get it—they were always writing things against the +rich. Dick Ferguson would see it, and he despised people who didn't pay +their bills; she had heard him say so to Mr. Janney, remembered his tone +of contempt. There would be no use lying to him for she felt bitterly +certain that Mr. Janney had told him what her mother gave her. There was +nothing for it but to go to Mrs. Janney and she quailed at the thought, +for her mother, forgiving unto seventy times seven, at seventy times +eight could be resolute and relentless. But it was the one way out and +she had to take it. + +When no engagements claimed her afternoons Mrs. Janney went for a drive +at four. At lunch she announced her intention of going out in the open +car and asked if any of the others wanted to come. All refused: Mr. +Janney was contemplating a ride, Suzanne would rest, Miss Maitland had +some sewing to do on her dress for that evening. Both Suzanne and Miss +Maitland were very quiet and appeared to suffer from a loss of +appetite. After the meal the Secretary went upstairs and Suzanne +followed. + +She waited until Mr. Janney was safely started on his ride, then, +feeling sick and wan, crossed the hall to her mother's boudoir. Mrs. +Janney was at her desk writing letters, with Elspeth, her maid, a +gray-haired, sturdy Scotch woman, standing by the table opening packages +that had just arrived from town. Elspeth, like most of Mrs. Janney's +servants, had been in her employ for years, entering her service in the +old Pittsburg days and being promoted to the post of personal attendant. +She knew a good deal about the household, more even than Dixon, admired +and respected her mistress and disliked Suzanne. + +The young woman's first remark was addressed to her, and, curtly +imperious, was of a kind that fed the dislike: + +"Go. I want to talk to Mrs. Janney." + +"That'll do, Elspeth," said Mrs. Janney quietly. "Thank you very much. +I'll finish the others myself." Then as the woman withdrew into the +bedroom beyond, "I wish you wouldn't speak to Elspeth that way, Suzanne. +It's bad taste and bad manners." + +Suzanne was in no state to consider Elspeth's feelings or her own +manners. She was so nervous that she blundered into her subject without +diplomatic preliminaries, gaining no encouragement from her mother's +face, which, at first startled, gradually hardened into stern +indignation. + +It was a hateful scene, degenerated—anyway on Suzanne's part—into a +quarrel, a bitter arraignment of her mother as unloving and ungenerous. +For Mrs. Janney refused the money, put her foot down with a stamp that +carried conviction. She was even grimmer and more determined than her +daughter had expected, the girl's anger and upbraidings ineffectual to +gain their purpose as spray to soften a rock. Her decision was ruthless; +Suzanne must pay her own debts, out of her own allowance. Yes, even if +she was written up in the papers. That was *her* affair: if she did +things that were disgraceful she must bear the disgrace. The interview +ended by Suzanne rushing out of the room, a trail of loud, clamorous +sobs marking her passage to her own door. + +When she had gone Mrs. Janney broke down and cried a little. She had +thought the girl improved of late, less selfish, more tender. And now +she had been so cruel; the charge of a lack in love had pierced the +mother's heart. Mr. Janney, returned from his ride, found her there, +looking old, her eyes reddened, her voice husky. When he heard the +story, he took her hand and stroked it. His tact prevented him from +saying what he felt; what he did say was: + +"That bridge money'll have to be paid." + +"It will *all* have to be paid," Mrs. Janney sighed, "and I'll have to +pay it as I always have. But I'm going to frighten her—let her think I +won't—for a few days anyway. It's all I can do and it may have some +effect." + +Her husband agreed that it might but his thoughts were not hopeful. +There always had to be a crumpled rose leaf and Suzanne was theirs. + +He accompanied his wife on her drive and was so understanding, so +unobtrusively soothing and sympathetic, that when they returned she was +once more her masterful, competent self. Noting a bank of storm clouds +rising from the east, she told Otto to bring the limousine when he came +for them at a quarter to eight. Inside the house she summoned Dixon and +said as the family would be out "the help"—it was part of her +beneficent policy to call her retinue by this name when speaking to any +of its members—could go out that night if they so willed. Dixon +admitted that they had already planned a general sortie on "the movies" +in the village. All but Hannah, the cook, who had "something like +shooting pains in her feet, and Delia, the second housemaid, who'd got +an insect in her eyes, Madam. But it wasn't the hurt of it that kept her +in, only the look which she didn't want seen." + +At seven the storm drove up, black and lowering, and the rain fell in a +torrent. It was still falling when Mr. and Mrs. Janney descended the +stairs, a little in advance of the time set, for, while dressing, Mrs. +Janney had decided that her costume needed a brightening touch, which +would be suitably imparted by her opal necklace. This, being rarely +worn, was kept with the more valuable jewels in the safe of which +Elspeth did not know the combination. Of course Mrs. Janney did, and at +the foot of the stairs she turned into a passage which led from the +foyer hall into the kitchen wing. It was a short connecting artery of +the great house, lit by two windows that gave on rear lawns, and at +present encumbered by a chair standing near the first window. Mrs. +Janney recognized the chair as one from her sitting room which had been +broken and which Isaac, the footman, had said he could repair. She gave +it a proprietor's inspecting glance, touched the wounded spot, and +encountering wet varnish, warned Mr. Janney away. + +In the wall opposite the windows the safe door rose black and +uncompromising as a prison entrance. It was large and old fashioned—put +in by the former owner of Grasslands. Mrs. Janney talked of having a +more modern one substituted but hadn't "got round to it," and anyway Mr. +Janney thought it was all right—burglaries were rare in Berkeley. The +silver had already been stored for the night, the bosses of great bowls, +flowered rims, and filagree edgings shining from darkling recesses. The +electric light across the hallway did not penetrate to the side shelves +and Mr. Janney had to assist with matches while his wife felt round +among the jewel cases, opening several in her search. Finally they +emerged, Mrs. Janney with the opals which after some straining she +clasped round her neck, while Sam closed the door. + +As they reëntered the main hall Suzanne came down the stairs, tripping +daintily with small pointed feet. She was very splendid, her slenderness +accentuated by the length of satin swathed about her, from which her +shoulders emerged, girlishly fragile. She was also very much made up, of +a pink and white too dazzlingly pure. With her blushing delicacy of +tint, her angry eyes and sulkily drooping mouth, Mr. Janney thought she +looked exactly like a crumpled rose leaf. + +"Where's Miss Maitland?" she said to him, ostentatiously ignoring her +mother. + +Before he could answer Esther's voice came from the hall above: + +"Coming—coming. I hope I haven't kept you," and she appeared at the +stair-head. + +The dress she wore, green trimmed with a design of small, pink chiffon +rosebuds and leaves, was the realized dream of a great Parisian +*faiseur*. It had been Mrs. Janney's who, considering it too youthful, +had given it to her Secretary. Its vivid hue was singularly becoming, +lending a warm whiteness to the girl's pale skin, bringing out the rich +darkness of her burnished hair. Her bare neck was as smooth as curds, +not a bone rippled its gracious contours; the little rosebuds and leaves +that edged the corsage looked like a garland painted on ivory. + +It was a good dinner, but it was not as jolly as Dick Ferguson's dinners +usually were. Before it was over the rain stopped and a full moon shone +through the dining room windows. Suzanne had hoped she and Dick could +saunter off into the rose garden and have that talk about Chapman, but +he showed no desire to do so. They sat about in long chairs on the +balcony and she had to listen to Ham Lorimer's opinions on the war. + +As soon as the motor came she wanted to go—she was tired, she had a +headache. It was early, only a quarter past ten, and the night was now +superb, the sky a clear, starless blue with the great moon queening it +alone. Mr. Janney would have liked to linger—he always enjoyed an +evening with Dick—but she was petulantly perverse, and they moved to +the waiting car with Ferguson in attendance. + +Mrs. Janney settled herself in the back seat, Suzanne, lifting +shimmering skirts, prepared to follow, while Miss Maitland waited humbly +to take what room was left among their assembled knees. She was close +to Ferguson who was helping Suzanne in, and looking up at the sky +murmured low to herself: + +"What a glorious night!" + +Ferguson heard her and dropped Suzanne's arm. + +"Isn't it? Too good to waste. Does any one want to walk back to +Grasslands?" + +Suzanne, one foot on the step, stopped and turned to him. Her lips +opened to speak, and then she saw the back of his head and heard him +address Esther: + +"How about it, Miss Maitland? You're a walker, and it's only a step by +the wood path. We can be there almost as soon as the car." + +"You'll get wet," said Mrs. Janney, "the woods will be dripping." + +Mr. Janney remembered his youth and egged them on: + +"Only underfoot and they can change their shoes. Dick's right—it's too +good to waste. I'd go myself but I'm afraid of my rheumatism. Hurry up, +Suzanne, and get in. They want to start." + +Miss Maitland said she wasn't afraid of the wet and that it would not +hurt her slippers. Suzanne entered the car and sunk into her corner. As +it rolled away Mr. and Mrs. Janney looked back at the two figures in the +moonlight and waved good-byes. Suzanne sat motionless; all the way home +she said nothing. + + + + +CHAPTER IV—THE CIGAR BAND +========================= + +Esther and Ferguson walked across the open spaces of lawn and then +entered the woods. Ferguson had set the pace as slow, but he noticed +that she quickened it, faring along beside him with a light, swift step. +He also noticed that she was quiet, as she had been at dinner; as if she +was abstracted, not like herself. + +He had seen a good deal of her lately and thought of her a good +deal—thought many things. One was that she was interesting, provocative +in her quiet reserve, not as easy to see through as most women. She was +clever, used her brains; he had formed a habit of talking to her on +matters that he never spoke of with other girls. And he admired her +looks, nothing cheap about them; "thoroughbred" was the word that always +rose to his mind as he greeted her. It seemed to him all wrong that she +should be working for a wage as the Janneys' hireling, for, though he +was "advanced" in his opinions, when it came to women there was a strain +of sentimentality in his make-up. + +On the wood path he let her go ahead, seeing her figure spattered with +white lights that ran across her shoulders and up and down her back. +They had walked in silence for some minutes when he suddenly said: + +"What's amiss?" + +She slackened her gait so that he came up beside her. + +"Amiss? With what, with whom?" + +"You. What's wrong? What's on your mind?" + +A shaft of moonlight fell through a break in the branches and struck +across her shoulder. It caught the little rosebuds that lay against her +neck and he saw them move as if lifted by a quick breath. + +"There's nothing on my mind. Why do you think there is?" + +"Because at dinner you didn't eat anything and were as quiet as if there +was an embargo on the English language." + +"Couldn't I be just stupid?" + +He turned to her, seeing her face a pale oval against the silver-moted +background: + +"No. Not if you tried your darndest." + +Dick Ferguson's tongue did not lend itself readily to compliments. He +gave forth this one with a seriousness that was almost solemn. + +She laughed, the sound suggesting embarrassment, and looked away from +him her eyes on the ground. Just in front of them the woodland roof +showed a gap, and through it the light fell across the path in a +glittering pool. As they advanced upon it she gave an exclamation, +stayed him with an outflung arm, and bent to the moss at her feet: + +"Oh, wait a minute—How exciting! I've found something." + +She raised herself, illumined by the radiance, a small object that +showed a golden glint in her hand. Then her voice came deprecating, +disappointed: + +"Oh, what a fraud! I thought it was a ring." + +On her palm lay what looked like a heavy enameled ring. Ferguson took it +up; it was of paper, a cigar band embossed in red and gold. + +"Umph," he said, dropping it back, "I don't wonder you were fooled." + +"It was right there on the moss shining in the moonlight. I thought I'd +found something wonderful." She touched it with a careful finger. "It's +new and perfectly dry. It's only been here since the storm." + +"Some man taking a short cut through the woods. Better not tell Mrs. +Janney, she doesn't like trespassers." + +She held it up, moving it about so that the thick gold tracery shone: + +"It's really very pretty. A ring like that wouldn't be at all bad. +Look!" she slipped it on her finger and held the hand out studying it +critically. It was a beautiful hand, like marble against the blackness +of the trees, the band encircling the third finger. + +Ferguson looked and then said slowly: + +"You've got it on your engagement finger." + +"Oh, so I have." Her laugh came quick as if to cover confusion and she +drew the band off, saying, as she cast it daintily from her finger-tips, +"There—away with it. I hate to be fooled," and started on at a brisk +pace. + +Ferguson bent and picked it up, then followed her. He said nothing for +quite suddenly, at the sight of the ring on her finger, he had been +invaded by a curious agitation, a gripping, upsetting, disturbing +agitation. It was so sharp, so unexpected, so compelling in its rapid +attack, that his outside consciousness seemed submerged by it and he +trod the path unaware of his surroundings. + +He had never thought of Esther Maitland being engaged, of ever marrying. +He had accepted her as some one who would always be close at hand, +always accessible, always in town or country to be found at the +Janneys'. And the ring had brought to his mind with a startling +clearness that some day she *might* marry. Some day a man would put a +ring on that finger, put it on with vows and kisses, put it on as a +sign and symbol of his ownership. Ferguson felt as if he had been shaken +from an agreeable lethargy. He was filled with a surge of indignation, +at what he could not exactly tell. He felt so many things that he did +not know which he felt the most acutely, but a sense of grievance was +mixed with jealousy and both were dominated by an angry certainty that +any man who aspired to her would be unworthy. + +When they emerged into the open he looked at her with a new +expression—questioning, almost fierce and yet humble. Sauntering at her +side across the lawn he was so obsessed with these conflicting emotions +that he said not a word, and hardly heard hers. The Janneys were +awaiting them on the balcony steps and after an exchange of good-nights +he turned back to the wood trail and went home. In his room he threw +himself on the sofa and lay there, his hands clasped behind his head, +staring at the ceiling. It was long after midnight when he went to bed, +and before he did so he put the cigar band in the jewel box with the +crystal lid that stood on the bureau. + +The Janney party trailed into the house, Sam stopping to lock the door +as the ladies moved to the stair foot. Suzanne went up with a curt +"good-night" to her mother, and no word or look for the Secretary. +Esther did not appear to notice it and, pausing with her hand on the +balustrade, proffered a request—could she have to-morrow, Saturday, to +go to town? She was very apologetic; her day off was Thursday and she +had no right to ask for another, but a friend had unexpectedly arrived +in the city, would be there for a very short time and she was extremely +anxious to see her. Mrs. Janney granted the favor with sleepy +good-nature and Miss Maitland, very grateful, passed up the stairs, the +old people dragging slowly in her wake, dropping remarks to one another +between yawns. + +A long hall crossed the upper floor, one side of which was given over to +the Price household. Here were Suzanne's rooms, Chapman's empty +habitation, and opposite them Bébita's nurseries. The other side was +occupied on the front by Mrs. Janney and the Secretary with a line of +guest chambers across the passage. In a small room between his wife's +and his stepdaughter's Mr. Janney had ensconced himself. He liked the +compact space, also his own little balcony where he had his steamer +chair and could read and sun himself. As the place was much narrower +than the apartments on either side a short branch of hall connected it +with the main corridor. His door, at the end of this hall, commanded the +head of the stairway. + +Mr. Janney had a restless night; he knew he would have for he had taken +champagne and coffee and the combination was always disturbing. When he +heard the clocks strike twelve he resigned himself to a *nuit blanche* +and lay wide awake listening to the queer sounds that a house gives out +in the silent hours. They were of all kinds, gurglings and creaks coming +out of the walls, a series of small imperative taps which seemed to +emerge from his chest of drawers, thrummings and thrillings as if winged +things were shut in the closets. + +Half-past twelve and one struck and he thought he was going off when he +heard a new sound that made him listen—the creaking of a door. He +craned up his old tousled head and gave ear, his eyes absently fixed on +the strips and spots of moonlight that lay white on the carpet. It was +very still, not a whisper, and then suddenly the dogs began to bark, a +trail of yaps and yelps that advanced across the lawn. Close to the +house they subsided, settling down into growls and conversational +snufflings, and he sank back on his pillow. But he was full of nerves, +and the idea suddenly occurred to him that Bébita might be sick, it +might have been the nursery door that had opened—Annie going to fetch +Mrs. Janney. He'd take a look to be sure—if anything was wrong there +would be a light. + +He climbed out of bed and stole into the hall. No light but the moon, +throwing silvery slants across the passage and the stair-head, and +relieved, he tiptoed back. It was while he was noiselessly closing his +door that he heard something which made him stop, still as a statue, +his faculties on the qui vive, his eye glued to the crack—a footstep +was ascending the stairs. It was as soft as the fall of snow, so light, +so stealthy that no one, unless attentive as he was, would have caught +it. Yet it was there, now and then a muffled creak of the boards +emphasizing its advance. The corridor at the head of the stairs was as +bright as day and with his eye to the crack he waited, his heart beating +high and hard. + +Rising into the white wash of moonlight came Suzanne, moving with +careful softness, her eyes sending piercing glances up and down the +hall. Her expression was singular, slightly smiling, with something sly +in its sharpened cautiousness. As she rose into full view he saw that +she held her wrapper bunched against her waist with one hand and in the +other carried Bébita's torch. He was so relieved that he made no move or +sound, but, as she disappeared in the direction of her room, softly +closed his door and went back to bed. + +She had evidently left something downstairs, a book probably—he could +not see what she had in the folds of the wrapper—and had gone to get +it. If she was wakeful it was a good sign, indicated the condition of +distressful unease her mother had hoped to create. Such alarm might lead +to a salutory reform, a change, if not of heart, of behavior. Comforted +by the thought, he turned on his pillow and at last slept. + + + + +CHAPTER V—ROBBERY IN HIGH PLACES +================================ + +The next morning Mr. Janney had to read the papers to himself for Miss +Maitland went to town on the 8:45. He sat on the balcony and missed her, +for the Chicago murder had developed several new features and he had no +one to talk them over with. Suzanne, who never came down to breakfast, +appeared at twelve and said she was going to the Fairfax's to lunch with +bridge afterward. Though she was not yet aware of Mrs. Janney's +intention to once more come to her aid, her gloom and ill-humor had +disappeared. She looked bright, almost buoyant, her eyes showing a +lively gleam, her lips parting in ready smiles. She was going to the +beach before lunch, and left with a large knitting bag slung from her +arm, and a parasol tilted over her shoulder. It was not until she was +half way across the lawn that old Sam remembered her nocturnal +appearance which he had intended asking her about. + +She was hardly out of sight when Bébita and Annie came into view on the +drive, returning from the morning bath. Bébita had a trouble and raced +up the steps to tell him—she had lost her torch. She was quite +disconsolate over it; Annie had said they'd surely find it, but it +wasn't anywhere, and she *knew* she'd left it on the nursery table when +she went to bed. In the light of subsequent events Mr. Janney thought +his answer to the child had been dictated by Providence. Why he didn't +say, "Your mother knows; she had it last night," he never could explain; +nor what prompted the words, "Ask your mother; she's probably seen it +somewhere." Bébita accepted the suggestion with some hope and then, +hearing that her mother would not be home until the afternoon, fell into +momentary dejection. + +Mrs. Janney was to take her accustomed drive at four and her husband +said he would go with her. Some time before the hour he appeared on the +balcony, cool and calm, his poise restored after the trials of the +previous day and the disturbed night, and sat down to wait. Inside the +house his wife was busy. Several important papers had come on the +morning mail and these, with the opals, she decided to put in the safe +before starting. After they were stored in their shelves and the opals +back in their box she could not resist a look at her emeralds, of all +her material possessions the dearest. She lifted the purple velvet case +and opened it—the emeralds were not there. + +She stood motionless, experiencing an inner sense of upheaval, her +heart leaping and then sinking down, her body shaken by a tremor such as +the earth feels when rocked by a seismic throe. She tried to hold +herself steady and opened the other cases—the two pearl necklaces, the +sapphire rivière, the diamond and ruby tiara. As each revealed its +emptiness her hands began to tremble until, when she reached the white +suède box of the black pearl pendant, they shook so she could hardly +find the clasp. Everything was gone—a clean sweep had been made of the +Janney jewels. + +Moving with a firm step, she went to the balcony. In the doorway she +came to a halt and said quietly to her husband: + +"Sam, my jewels have been stolen." + +Mr. Janney squared round, stared at her, and ejaculated in feeble +denial: + +"Oh *no*!" + +"Oh yes," she answered with the same note of grim control, "Come and +see." + +When he saw, his old veined hands shaking as they dropped the rifled +cases, he turned and blankly faced his wife who was watching him with a +level scrutiny. + +"Mary!" was all he could falter. "Mary, my *dear*!" + +"Last night," she nodded, "when we were out. The place was almost empty. +I'll call the servants." + +She went to the foot of the stairs and called Elspeth, old Sam, +bewildered by this sudden catastrophe, emerging from the safe, as pale +and shaken as if he was the burglar. + +"Last night, of course last night," he murmured, trying to think. "They +were here at eight. I saw them, we saw them, anybody could have seen +them." + +Elspeth appeared on the stairs and came running down, Mrs. Janney's +orders delivered like pistol shots upon her advance: + +"I've been robbed. The safe's been opened and all the jewels are gone. +Go and call the servants, every one of them. Tell them to come here at +once." + +Elspeth knew enough to make no reply, and, with a terrified face, +scudded past her mistress to the kitchen. Mrs. Janney, her attention +attracted by sounds of distracted amazement from her husband, mobilized +him: + +"Go and get Miss Maitland. We'll have to send for detectives. She can do +it—she doesn't lose her head." + +Mr. Janney, too stunned to be anything but meekly obedient, trotted off +down the hall to Miss Maitland's study, then stopped and came back: + +"She's in town; she hasn't got back yet." + +"Tch!" Mrs. Janney gave a sound of exasperation. "I'd forgotten it. How +maddening! You'll have to do it. Go in there to the 'phone"—she +indicated the telephone closet at the end of the hall. "Call up the +Kissam Agency—that's the best. We had them when the bell boy at +Atlantic City stole my sables. Get Kissam himself and tell him what's +happened and to take hold at once—to come now, not to waste a minute. +And don't you either—hurry!—" + +Mr. Janney hasted away and shut himself in the telephone closet, as the +servants, marshaled by Dixon and Elspeth, entered in a scared group. +They had been taking tea in their own dining room when Elspeth burst in +with the direful news. Eight of them were old employees—had been years +in Mrs. Janney's service. Hannah, the cook, had been with her nearly as +long as Dixon; Isaac, the footman, was her nephew. Dixon's large, +heavy-jowled face was stamped with aghast concern; the kitchen maid was +in tears. + +Mrs. Janney addressed them like what she was—a general in command of +her forces: + +"My jewels have been stolen. Some time last night the safe was opened +and they were taken. It is my order that every one of you stay in the +house, not holding communication with any one outside, until the police +have been here and made a thorough investigation. Your rooms and your +trunks will have to be searched and I expect you to submit to it +willingly with no grumbling." + +Dixon answered her: + +"It's what we'd expect, Madam. Me and Isaac both know the combination +and we'd want to have our own characters cleared as much as we'd want +you to get back your valuables." + +Hannah spoke: + +"We'd welcome it, Mrs. Janney. There's none of us wants any suspicion +restin' on 'em." + +Delia, the housemaid with the inflamed eye, took it up. She was a +newcomer in the household, and in her fright her brogue acquired an +unaccustomed richness: + +"God knows I was in my room at nine, and not a move out of me till sivin +the nixt mornin' and that's to-day." + +Mr. Janney, issuing from the telephone closet, here interrupted them. He +addressed his wife: + +"It's all right. I got Kissam himself. He'll be here on the 5:30." + +She answered with a nod and was turning for further instructions to +Dixon when Suzanne entered from the balcony. Up to that moment Mr. +Janney had forgotten all about his nocturnal vision; now it came back +upon him with a shattering impact. + +He felt his knees turn to water and his heart sink down to inner, +unplumbed depths in his anatomy. He grasped at the back of a chair and +for once his manners deserted him, for he dropped into it though his +wife was standing. + +"What's all this?" said Suzanne, coming to a halt, her glance shifting +from her mother to the group of solemn servants. She looked very +pretty, her face flushed, the blue tint of her linen dress harmonizing +graciously with her pink cheeks and corn-colored hair. + +Mrs. Janney explained. As she did so old Sam, his face as gray as his +beard, watched his stepdaughter with a furtive eye. Suzanne appeared +amazed, quite horror-stricken. She too sank into a chair, and listened, +open-mouthed, her feet thrust out before her, the high heels planted on +the rug. + +"Why, what an awful thing!" was her final comment. Then as if seized by +a sudden thought she turned on Dixon. + +"Were all the windows and doors locked last night?" + +"All on the lower floor, Mrs. Price. Me and Isaac went round them before +we started for the village, and there's not a night—" + +Suzanne cut him off brusquely: + +"Then how could any one get in to do it?" + +There was a curious, surging movement among the servants, a mutter of +protest. Mr. Janney intervened: + +"You'd better let matters alone, Suzanne. Detectives are coming and +they'll inquire into all that sort of thing." + +"I suppose I can ask a question if I like," she said pertly, then +suddenly; looking about the hall, "Where's Miss Maitland?" + +"In town," said her mother. + +"Oh—she went in, did she? I thought her day off was Thursday." + +"She asked for to-day—what *does* it matter?" Mrs. Janney was irritated +by these irrelevancies and turned to the servants: "Now I've instructed +you and for your own sakes obey what I've said. Not a man or woman +leaves the house till after the police have made their search. That +applies to the garage men and the gardeners. Dixon, you can tell them—" +she stopped, the crunch of motor wheels on the gravel had caught her +ear. "There's some one coming. I'm not at home, Dixon." + +The servants huddled out to their own domain and Dixon, with a +resumption of his best hall-door manner, went to ward off the visitor. +But it was only Miss Maitland returning from town. She had several small +packages in her hands and looked pale and tired. + +The news that greeted her—Mrs. Janney was her informant—left her as +blankly amazed as it had the others. She was shocked, asked questions, +could hardly believe it. Old Sam found the opportunity a good one to +study Suzanne, who appeared extremely interested in the Secretary's +remarks. Once, when Miss Maitland spoke of keeping some of her books and +the house-money in the safe, he saw his stepdaughter's eyelids flutter +and droop over the bird-bright fixity of her glance. + +It was at this stage that Bébita ran into the hall and made a joyous +rush for her mother: + +"Oh, Mummy, I've *waited* and *waited* for you,"—she flung herself +against Suzanne's side in soft collision. "I've lost my torch and I've +asked everybody and nobody's seen it. Do *you* know where it is?" + +Suzanne arched her eyebrows in playful surprise, then putting a finger +under the rounded chin, lifted her daughter's face and kissed her, +softly, sweetly, tenderly. + +"Darling, I'm so sorry, but I haven't seen it anywhere. If you can't +find it I'll buy you another." + + + + +CHAPTER VI—POOR MR. JANNEY! +=========================== + +The peace and aristocratic calm of the Janney household was disrupted. +Into its dignified quietude burnt an irruption of alien activity and the +great white light of publicity. Kissam with his minions came that +evening and reporters followed like bloodhounds on the scent. Scenes +were enacted similar to those Mr. Janney had read in novels and +witnessed at the theater, but which, in his most fevered imaginings, he +had never thought could transpire in his own home. It was unreal, like a +nightmare, a phantasmagoria of interviews with terrified servants, +trampings up and down stairs, strange men all over the place, reporters +on the steps, the telephone bell and the front door bell ringing +ceaselessly. Everybody was in a state of tense excitement except Mr. +Janney whose condition was that of still, frozen misery. There were +moments when he was almost sorry he'd married again. + +After introductory parleys with the heads of the house the searchlight +of inquiry was turned on the servants. Their movements on the fateful +night were subject of special attention. When Kissam elicited the fact +that they had not returned from the village till nearly midnight he fell +on it with ominous avidity. Dixon, however, had a satisfactory +explanation, which he offered with a martyred air of forbearance. Mr. +Price's man, Willitts, had that morning come up from town to Cedar +Brook, the next station along the line. In the afternoon he had biked +over to see them and, hearing of their plan to visit the movies, had +arranged to meet them there. This he did, afterward taking them to the +Mermaid Ice Cream Parlors where he had treated them to supper. They had +left there about half past eleven, Willitts going back to Cedar Brook +and the rest of them walking home to Grasslands. + +From the women left in the house little was to be gathered. This was +unfortunate as the natural supposition was that the burglary had been +committed during the hours when they were alone there. Both, feeling +ill, had retired early, Delia at about half-past eight, going +immediately to bed and quickly falling asleep. Hannah was later; about +nine, she thought. It was very quiet, not a sound, except that after she +got to her room she heard the dogs barking. They made a great row at +first, running down across the lawn, then they quieted, "easing off with +sort of whines and yaps, like it was somebody they knew." She had not +bothered to look out of the window because she thought it was one of the +work people from the neighborhood, making a short cut through the +grounds. + +In the matter of the safe all was incomprehensible and mysterious. Five +people in the house knew the combination—Mr. and Mrs. Janney, Dixon and +Isaac and Miss Maitland. Mrs. Janney was as certain of the honesty of +her servants and her Secretary as she was of her own. She rather +resented the detectives' close questioning of the latter. But Miss +Maitland showed no hesitation or annoyance, replying clearly and +promptly to everything they asked. She kept the house money and some of +her account books in the safe and on the second of the month—five days +before the robbery—had taken out such money as she had there to pay the +working people who did not receive checks. She managed the financial +side of the establishment, she explained, paying the wages and bills and +drawing the checks for Mrs. Janney's signature. + +Questioned about her movements that afternoon, her answers showed the +same intelligent frankness. She had spent the two hours after lunch +altering the dress she was to wear that evening. As it was very warm in +her room she had taken part of it to her study on the ground floor. When +she had finished her work—about four—she had gone for a walk returning +just before the storm. After that she had retired to her room and +stayed there until she came down to go to Mr. Ferguson's dinner. + +The safe and its surroundings were subjected to a minute inspection +which revealed nothing. Neither window had been tampered with, the locks +were intact, the sills unscratched, the floor showed no foot-mark. There +were no traces of finger prints either upon the door or the +metal-clamped boxes in which the jewel cases were kept. The mended chair +was just as Mrs. Janney remembered it, set between the safe and the +window, in the way of any one passing along the hall. + +It was on Sunday afternoon—twenty-four hours after the discovery—that +Dick Ferguson appeared with one of his gardeners, who had a story to +tell. On Friday night the man had been to a card party in the garage of +a neighboring estate and had come home late "across lots." His final +short cut had been through Grasslands, where he had passed round by the +back of the house. He thought the time would be on toward one-thirty. +Skirting the kitchen wing he had seen a light in a ground floor window, +a window which he was able to indicate. He described the light as not +very strong and white, not yellow like a lamp or candle. As he looked at +it he noticed that it diminished in brightness as if it was withdrawn, +moved away down a hall or into a room. He could see no figure, simply +the lit oblong of the window, with the pattern of a lace curtain over +it, and anyway he hadn't noticed much, supposing it to be one of the +servants coming home late like himself. + +This settled the hour of the robbery. It had not been committed when the +place was almost deserted, but when all its occupants were housed and +sleeping. The window, pointed out by the man, was directly opposite the +safe door, the light as he described it could only have been made by an +electric lantern or torch, its gradual diminishment caused by its +removal into the recess of the safe. + +If before this Mr. Janney's mental state was painful, it now became +agonized. He was afraid to be with the detectives for fear of what he +would hear, and he was afraid to leave them alone, for fear of what he +might miss. When Mrs. Janney conferred with Kissam he sat by her side, +swallowing on a dry throat, and trying to control the inner trembling +that attacked him every time the man opened his lips. He gave way to +secret, futile cursings of the jewels, distracted prayers that they +never might be found. For if they were, the theft might be traced to its +author—and *then* what? It would be the end of his wife, her proud head +would be lowered forever, her strong heart broken. Sleep entirely +forsook him and the people who came to call treated him with a soothing +gentleness as if they thought he was dying. + +His misery reached a climax when something he remembered, and every one +else had forgotten, came to light. It was one day in the library when +Kissam asked Mrs. Janney if there had ever been any one else in the +house—a discharged employee or relation—who had known the combination. +Mrs. Janney said no and then recollected that Chapman Price did, he had +kept his tobacco in the safe as the damp spoiled it. Kissam showed no +interest—he knew Chapman Price was her son-in-law and was no longer an +inmate—and then suddenly asked what had been done with the written +combination. + +At that question Mr. Janney felt like a shipwrecked mariner deprived of +the spar to which he has been clinging. He saw his wife's face charged +with aroused interest—she'd forgotten it, it was in Mr. Janney's desk, +had always been kept there. They went to the desk and found it under a +sheaf of papers in a drawer that was unlocked. Kissam looked at it, felt +and studied the papers, then put it back in a silence that made Mr. +Janney feel sick. + +After that he was prepared for anything to happen, but nothing did. He +got some comfort from the papers, which assumed the robbery to have been +an "outside job"; no one in the house fitting the character of a +suspect. It was the work of experts, who had entered by the second +story, and were of that class of burglar known as "tumblers" Mr. +Janney, who had never heard of a "tumbler" save as a vessel from which +to drink, now learned that it was a crackman, who from a sensitive touch +and long training, could manipulate the locks and work out the +combination. He found himself thanking heaven that such men existed. + +When a week passed and nothing of moment came to the surface, the Janney +jewel robbery slipped back to the inside page, and, save in the environs +of Berkeley, ceased to occupy the public mind. Mr. Janney could once +more walk in his own grounds without fear of reporters leaping on him +from the shrubberies or emerging from behind statues and garden benches. +His tense state relaxed, he began to breathe freely, and, in this +restoration to the normal, he was able to think of what he ought to do. +Somehow, some day, he would have to face Suzanne with his knowledge and +get the jewels back. It would be a day of fearful reckoning; it was so +appalling to contemplate that he shrank from it even in thought. He said +he wasn't strong enough yet, would work up to it, get some more sleep +and his nerves in better shape. And she might—there was always the +hope—she might get frightened and return them herself. + +So he rested in a sort of breathing spell between the first, grinding +agony and the formidably looming future. But it was not to last—events +were shaping to an end that he had never suspected and that came upon +him like a bolt from the blue. + +It happened one afternoon eight days after the robbery. Mrs. Janney and +Suzanne had gone for a drive and he was alone in the library, listlessly +going over the morning papers. His zest in the news had left him—the +Chicago murder offered no interest, the stabbed policeman in desperate +case from blood poisoning, his assailant still at large, could not +conjure away his dark anxieties. With his glasses dangling from his +finger, his eyes on the green sweep of the lawn, he was roused by a +knock on the door. It was Dixon announcing Mr. Kissam, who had walked up +from the village and wanted to see him. + +Kissam, with a brief phrase of greeting, closed the door and sat down. +Mr. Janney thought his manner, which was always hard and brusque, was +softened by a suggestion of confidence, something of intimacy as one who +speaks man to man. It made him nervous and his uneasiness was not +relieved in the least by the detective's words. + +"I'm glad to find you alone, Mr. Janney. I 'phoned up and heard from +Dixon that the ladies were out and that's why I came. I want to consult +you before I say anything to Mrs. Janney." + +"That's quite right," said Mr. Janney, then added with a feeble attempt +at lightness, "Are you, as the children say, getting any warmer?" + +"We're very warm. In fact I think we've almost got there. But it's +rather a ticklish situation." + +Mr. Janney did not answer; he glanced at his shoes, then at the silver +on the desk. For the moment he was too perturbed to look at Kissam's +shrewd, attentive face. + +"It's so out of the ordinary run," the man went on, "and *so much* is +involved that I decided not to move without first telling you. The +family being so prominent—" + +"The family!" Mr. Janney spoke before he thought, his limp hands +suddenly clenching on the arms of the chair. + +The detective's eyes steadied on the gripped fingers. + +"What do you mean? Let me have it straight," said the old man huskily. + +Kissam put his hand in his hip pocket and drew out an electric torch +which he put on the desk. + +"This torch I myself found two days ago in a desk in Mrs. Price's room. +It was pushed back in a drawer which was full of letters and papers. It +fits the description of the torch that was lost by Mrs. Price's little +girl." + +Mr. Janney's head sunk forward on his breast, and Kissam knew now that +his suspicions were correct and that the old man had known all along. +He was sorry for him: + +"Mrs. Price not being your daughter, Mr. Janney, I decided to come to +you. I suspected her after the second day and I'll tell you why. I had a +private interview with that woman Elspeth, Mrs. Janney's maid, and she +told me of a quarrel she had overheard between Mrs. Janney and her +daughter. The subject of the quarrel was money, Mrs. Price asking for a +large sum to meet certain debts and losses in the stock market which +Mrs. Janney refused to give her. That supplied the motive and gave me +the lead. The loss of the torch was also significant. The child was +confident—and children are very accurate—that she had left it on the +table in her nursery when she went to bed. The proximity of the two +rooms made the theft of the torch an easy matter. What puzzled me was +how Mrs. Price had gained access to the safe, but that was cleared up +when the written combination was found in your desk here; and finally I +ran across what I should call perfectly conclusive evidence in Mrs. +Price's room. I don't refer only to the torch, but to the fact that a +wrapper that was hanging in the back of one of the closets showed a +smudge of varnish on the skirt." + +Mr. Janney leaned forward over his clasped hands, feeling wan and +shriveled. + +"If your surmise is right," he said, "where has she put them?" + +"If!" echoed the other. "I don't see any if about it. You can't suspect +either of the men servants—reliable people of established +character—nor Miss Maitland. A girl in her position—even if she +happened to be dishonest, which I don't for a moment think she +is—wouldn't tackle a job as big as that. Come, Mr. Janney, we don't +need to dodge around the stump. As soon as I'd spoken I saw you thought +Mrs. Price had done it." + +The old man nodded and said sadly: + +"I did." + +"Would you mind telling me why you did?" + +There was nothing for it but to tell, and he told, the detective +suppressing a grin of triumph. It cleared up everything, was as +conclusive as if they'd seen her commit the act. + +"As for where she put them," he said, "she may have a hiding place in +the house that we haven't discovered, or cached them outside. In matters +like this women sometimes show a remarkable cunning. I've looked up her +movements on the Saturday and it's possible she hid them somewhere in +the woods. She left the house at twelve, carrying a silk work bag, +walked past Ferguson's place and talked there with him in the garden for +about fifteen minutes, went on to the beach, sat there a while, and +then walked to the Fairfax house on the bluff, where she stayed to +lunch, coming back here about half-past four. She had ample opportunity +during that time and in the places she passed through to find a cache +for them." + +Mr. Janney raised a gray, pitiful face: + +"Mr. Kissam, if Mrs. Janney knew this it would kill her." + +Kissam gave back an understanding look: + +"That's why I came to you." + +"Then it must stop here—with me." The old man spoke with a sudden, +fierce vehemence. "It *can't* go further. The girl's been a torment and +a trouble for years. I won't let her end by breaking her mother's heart, +bringing her gray hairs with sorrow to the grave. Good God, I'd rather +say I did it myself." + +"There's no need for that. We can let it fizzle out, die down +gradually." He gave a slight, sardonic smile. "I've happened on this +sort of thing before, Mr. Janney. The rich have their skeletons in the +closet, and I've helped to keep 'em there, shut in tight." + +"Then for heaven's sake do it in this case—help me hide this skeleton. +Keep up the search for a while so that Mrs. Janney won't suspect +anything; play your part. Mr. Kissam, if you'll aid me in keeping this +dark there's nothing I wouldn't do to repay you." + +Kissam disclaimed all desire for reward. His professional pride was +justified; he had made good to his own satisfaction. And, as he had +said, the case presented no startling novelty to his seasoned +experience. Many times he had helped distracted families to suppress +ugly revelations, presented an impregnable front to the press, and seen, +with a cynical amusement, columns shrink to paragraphs and the public's +curiosity fade to the vanishing point. He promised he would aid in the +slow quenching of the Janney sensation, gradually let it flicker out, +keep his men on the job for a while longer for Mrs. Janney's benefit, +and finally let the matter decline to the status of an "unsolved +mystery." + +As to the restoration of the jewels he gave advice. Say nothing for a +time, sit quiet and give no sign. If she was as thoroughly scared as she +ought to be, she would probably return them—they would wake one fine +morning and find everything back in the safe. If, however, she tried to +realize on them it would be easy to trace them—he would be on the +watch—and then Mr. Janney could confront her with his knowledge and +have her under his thumb forever. + +Mr. Janney was extremely grateful—not at the prospect of having Suzanne +under his thumb, that was too complete a reversal of positions to be +comfortable—but at the detective's kindly comprehension and aid. With +tears in his eyes he wrung Kissam's hand and honored him by a personal +escort to the front door. + + + + +CHAPTER VII—CONCERNING DETECTIVES +================================= + +Kissam kept his word and the interest in the Janney robbery began to +languish. Detectives still came and went, morning trains still disgorged +reporters, but it was not as it had been. The first, fine careless +rapture of the chase was over; nothing new was discovered, nothing old +developed. The house settled back to its methodical régime, the faces of +its inmates lost their looks of harassed distress. + +Mr. Janney, though much pacified, was not yet restored to his normal +poise. His wife was now the object of his secret attention, for he knew +her to be a very sharp and observant person, and the fear that she might +"catch on" haunted him. It was therefore very upsetting when she +remarked one morning at breakfast that "those men didn't seem to be +doing much. They were just where they had been ten days ago." + +He tried to reassure her—it would be a long slow affair—didn't she +remember the James case, where a year after the theft the jewels were +found under the skin of a ham hanging in the cellar? Mrs. Janney was +not appeased, she scoffed at the ham, and said the detectives were the +stupidest body of men in the country outside Congress. She was going to +offer a reward, ten thousand dollars—and then she muttered something +about "taking a hand herself." In answer to Mr. Janney's alarmed +questions she quieted down, laughed, and said she didn't mean anything. + +She did, however, and had Mr. Janney known it wakeful nights would again +have been his portion. But she had no intention of telling him. She had +seen that he was worn out, a mere bundle of nerves, and what she +intended to do would be done without his knowledge or connivance. This +was to start a private inquiry of her own. The written combination, +loose in an unlocked drawer, had influenced her; it was possible some +one in the house had found it. She felt that she owed it to her +dependents and herself to make sure. And the best way to do this was to +have a detective on the spot—but a detective whose profession would be +unknown. Fortunately the plan was workable; there was a vacancy in the +household staff. For the past month she had been advocating the +engagement of a nursery governess for Bébita. + +Two days after her slip to Mr. Janney an opportunity came for broaching +the subject. They were at lunch when Suzanne announced that she intended +going to town the next morning. It was about Bébita—the child's eyes, +which had troubled her in the spring, were again inflamed and she had +complained of pain in them. Suzanne wanted to consult the oculist; she +hoped a prescription would be sufficient, but of course if he insisted +on seeing the child she would have to be taken in for an examination. + +Mrs. Janney thought it the right thing to do and said she would +accompany her daughter. Suzanne, who was eating her lunch, paused with +suspended fork and sidelong eye;—why was that necessary, she was +perfectly competent to attend to the matter. Mrs. Janney agreed and said +she was going on another errand—to see about the nursery governess they +had spoken of so often. It was time something was done, Bébita was +running wild, forgetting all she had learned last winter. Mrs. Janney +had heard of several women who might answer and would spend the day +looking them up and interviewing them. Suzanne returned to her food. +"Oh, very well, it might be a good thing, only please get some one young +and cheerful who didn't put on airs and want to be a member of the +family." + +One of Suzanne's fads was a fear of the Pennsylvania Tunnel. Whether it +was a pose or genuine she absolutely refused to go through it, declaring +that on her one trip she had nearly died of fright and the pressure on +her ears. Since that alarming experience she always went to the city +either by the old Long Island Ferry route, or by motor across the +Queensborough Bridge. + +It being a fine morning they decided to drive in—about an hour's +run—and at ten they started forth. They chatted amicably, for Suzanne, +since the robbery and the knowledge that her debts were paid, had been +unusually gay and good-humored. They separated at Altman's, Mrs. Janney +keeping the motor, Suzanne taking a taxi. At four they would meet at a +tea room and drive home together. + +Mrs. Janney's first point of call was a strange place in which to look +for a nursery governess. It was the office of Whitney & Whitney, her +lawyers, far downtown near Wall Street. She was at once conducted into +Mr. Whitney's sanctum, for besides being an important client she was a +personal friend. He moved forward to meet her—a large, slightly +stooped, heavily built man with a shock of thick gray hair, and eyes, +singularly clear and piercing, overshadowed by bushy brows. His son, +George, was sent for, and after greetings, jolly and intimate, they +settled down to talk over Mrs. Janney's business. + +She told them the situation and her needs—could *they* find the sort of +person she wanted. She knew they employed detectives of all sorts and +Kissam's men had been so lacking in energy and so stupid that she +wanted no more of that kind. She had to have a woman of whose character +they were assured, and sufficiently presentable to pass muster with the +master and the servants. Mr. Whitney gave a look at his son and they +exchanged a smile. + +"Go and see if you can get her on the wire, George," he said, "and if +she's willing tell her to come down right now." Then as the young man +left the room he turned to Mrs. Janney. "I know the very person, the +best in New York, if she'll undertake it." + +"Some one who's thoroughly reliable and can fit into the place?" + +"My dear friend, she's as reliable as you are and that's saying a good +deal. As to fitting in, leave that to her. In her natural state there +are still some rough edges, but when she's playing a part they don't +show. She's smart enough to hide them." + +"Who is she—a detective?" + +"Not a real one, not a professional. She was a telephone girl and then +she made a good marriage—fellow named Babbitts, star reporter on the +*Despatch*. She's in love and happy and prosperous, but now and again +she'll do work for us. It's partly for old sakes' sake and partly +because she has the passion of the artist—can't resist if the call +comes to her. She came to our notice during the Hesketh case—did some +of the cleverest work I ever saw and got Reddy out of prison. The +Reddys are among her best friends—can't do too much for her." + +Mrs. Janney, who knew the beautiful Mrs. Reddy, was impressed. + +"Do you think she'll come?" she asked anxiously. + +He gave her a meaning look and nodded; + +"Yes. It's an unusually interesting case." + +Half an hour later Mrs. Janney met Molly Morgenthau Babbitts and laid +the situation before her. She found the much-vaunted young woman, a +pretty, slender girl, with crisply curly black hair, honest brown eyes, +and a pleasantly simple manner. Mrs. Janney liked what she said and +liked her. There was no doubt about her intelligence and as to rousing +any suspicions in the household—she would have deceived Mr. Janney—she +even would have deceived Dixon. As the case was outlined she could not +hide her kindling interest and, when she agreed to undertake the work, +Mrs. Janney felt that the nursery governess idea had been an +inspiration. The interview ended with practical details: Mrs. Babbitts +would make her reports to the Whitneys, who would figure as her +employers and would hand on her findings to Mrs. Janney. She would +arrive by the twelve-thirty train on the following day and be known at +Grasslands as Miss Rodgers. As they were separating she asked if there +was a branch telephone on the upper floor and, being told that there was +in an alcove off the main hall, requested that her room might be near +it as the telephone played an important part in her work. + +Suzanne's course had a curious resemblance to her mother's, though her +plan of procedure was different. + +From the day after the robbery she had developed an interest in the +telephone "Red Book." She had taken it to her room and turning to the +D's studied the list of detective agencies. After much comparison and +cogitation she had copied down the name of one Horace Larkin, who +appeared to be in business by himself and whose office was in a central +and accessible part of the city. + +After she had parted from her mother she went to a department store, +shut herself in a telephone booth, and called up Mr. Larkin. A masculine +voice, that of Larkin himself, had answered, and explaining her desire +to see him on important business, he had made an appointment to meet her +that afternoon at the Janney house on Fifth Avenue. + +This was an excellent place for Suzanne's purpose, closed for the +summer, its porch boarded up, its blue-blinded windows proclaiming its +desertion. An ancient caretaker occupied the basement with her niece, +Aggie McGee, to help and be company. Mrs. Janney never went there, but +now and then Suzanne did, generally on a quest for some needed garment, +so that her presence in the house was in no way remarkable. + +The appointment was for two and, after telling Aggie McGee that a +gentleman would call and to show him into the reception room, she +retired to the long Louis Quinze salon and threw herself on a sofa. She +was a little scared at what she had planned but she did not let her +uneasiness interfere with her intention, for, her mind once set on a +goal, she was as determined as her mother. Stretched comfortably on the +sofa, her glance traveling over the covered walls, the chandelier, a +misshapen bulging whiteness below the frescoed ceiling, she carefully +thought out what she would say to Mr. Larkin. + +A ring of the bell brought her to a sitting position, her hands pushing +in loosened hairpins. She waited listening, heard the opening and +closing of doors and then Aggie McGee's head appeared between the +shrouded portières and announced, "The gentleman to see you, ma'am." + +Her first impression of him was as a tall, broad-shouldered shape, +detailless against the light of the window. Then, as she sunk into a +chair, motioning him to one opposite, a nearer view showed him as a +fine-looking man, on to forty, with a fresh-colored, rounded face, its +expression smilingly good-humored. After the unkempt and slouchy +detectives she had seen at Grasslands his appearance, natty, smart, +almost that of a man of fashion, surprised and pleased her. She had an +instinctive distaste for all ungroomed and ill-dressed people and seeing +him so like the members of her own world, she felt a rising confidence +and reassurance. Also his manners were good, respectful, businesslike. +The one thing about him that suggested the wily sleuth were his eyes, +very light colored in his ruddy face, small, shrewd and piercing. + +He came to the matter of the moment without any preamble. Yes, he knew +of the robbery and knew who she was; he supposed she had called him up +to consult him about the case. + +"Of course, Mr. Larkin," she said, "that's what I wanted. But before I +say anything it must be understood between us that this—er—sending for +you—is entirely my affair. I want to employ you myself independently of +the others." + +He nodded, showing no surprise; + +"You want to put your own detective on the case." + +"Exactly. You're to be employed by me but no one must know you are or +know what you're doing." + +He smothered a smile and said: + +"I see." + +"I don't think the men that are working over it now are very clever or +interested. They just poke about and ask the same questions over and +over. The way they're going I should say we'd never get anything back. +So I decided I'd start an inquiry of my own and in a direction no one +else had thought of." + +Mr. Larkin gave a slight movement an almost imperceptible straightening +up of his body: + +"Do you mean that you suspect some one?" + +Suzanne looked at the arm of her chair and then smoothed its linen cover +with delicate finger tips. A very slight color deepened the artificial +rose of her cheek. + +"I'm afraid I do," she murmured. + +"Afraid?" + +She nodded, closing her eyes with the movement. She had the appearance +of a person distressed but resolute. + +"I can't help suspecting some one that I don't like to suspect. And +that's why I want your assistance." + +"I don't quite understand, Mrs. Price." + +"*This* is the explanation. If it were known that this person was guilty +it would ruin and destroy them. My idea is to be sure that they did +it—have evidence—and then tell my mother. We could keep quiet about +it, get the jewels back and not have the thief disgraced and sent to +jail." + +"Oh, I see. You want to face the party with a knowledge of their guilt, +have them restore the jewels, and let the matter drop." + +"Precisely. And I don't want to say anything until I'm sure, can come +out with everything all clear and proved. That's *where* I expect you to +help, put things together, find out, work up the case." + +"Who is the person?" + +Her color burned to a deep flush; she leaned toward him, urgent, almost +pleading: + +"Mr. Larkin, I hardly like to say it even to you, but I must. It's my +mother's secretary, Miss Maitland." + +He looked stolidly unmoved: + +"She lives in the house?" + +"Yes, for over a year now. My mother thinks everything of her, wouldn't +believe it unless it was proved past a doubt." + +"What are your reasons for suspecting her?" + +Suzanne was silent for a moment moving her glance from him to the +window. Mr. Larkin had a good chance to look at her and took it. He +noticed the feverish color, the line between the brows, the tightened +muscles under the thin cheeks. He made a mental note of the fact that +she was agitated. + +"Well that night, the night of July the seventh," she said in a low +voice, "I was wakeful. I often am, I've always been a nervous, restless +sort of person. About half past one I thought I heard a noise—some one +on the stairs—and I got up and looked out of my door. I can see the +head of the stairs from there, and as it was very bright moonlight any +one coming up would be perfectly plain—I couldn't make a mistake—what +I saw was Miss Maitland. She was going very carefully, tiptoeing along +as if she was trying to make no noise. At the top she turned and went +down the passage to her own room which is just beyond my mother's." + +She paused and shot a tentative look at him. He met it, teetered his +head in quiet comprehension and murmured: + +"She didn't see you?" + +"Oh no, she was not looking that way. And I didn't say anything or think +anything then—thought she'd gone downstairs for something she'd +forgotten. The next day it had passed out of my mind; it wasn't until I +heard that the jewels were gone that it came back and then I was too +shocked to say a word. It all came upon me in a minute—I remembered how +I'd seen her and remembered that she knew the combination of the safe." + +"Oh," said Mr. Larkin, "she knew that, did she?" + +"Yes, she keeps her account books and money in there, things she uses in +her work. You see she's been thoroughly trusted—never looked upon as +anything but perfectly honest and reliable." + +"Then she's filled her position to Mrs. Janney's satisfaction?" + +"Entirely. Of course we really don't know very much about her. She was +highly recommended when she came, but people in her position if they do +their work well—one doesn't bother much about them." + +"Have you noticed anything in her conduct or manner of life lately that +could—er—have any connection with or throw any light on such an +action?" + +Suzanne pondered for a moment then said: + +"No—she's always been about the same. She's gone into the city more +this summer than she did last year, on her holidays, I mean. And—oh +yes, this may be important—that night, when we came home from dinner, +she asked my mother if she could have the following day—Saturday—in +town. Mrs. Janney said she might and she went in before any of the +family were up." + +"Um," murmured Mr. Larkin and then fell into a silence in which he +appeared to be digesting this last item. When he spoke again it was to +propound a question that ruffled Suzanne's composure and caused her blue +eyes to give out a sudden spark: + +"Do you happen to know if she has any admirer—lover or fiancé or +anything of that sort?" + +"I know nothing whatever about it, but I should say *not*. Certainly I +never heard of such a person. I never saw any man in the least +attracted by her and I should imagine she was a girl who had no charm +for the other sex." + +Mr. Larkin stirred in a slow, large way and said: + +"Such a robbery is a pretty big thing for a girl like that to attempt. +She must know—any one would—that jewels like Mrs. Janney's are hard to +dispose of without detection." + +Suzanne shrugged, her tone showing an edge of irritation: + +"That may be the case, I suppose it is. But couldn't she have been +employed by some one—aren't there gangs who put people on the spot to +rob for them?" + +"Certainly there are. And that would be the most plausible explanation. +Not necessarily a gang, however, an individual might be behind her. At +this stage, knowing what I do, that would be my idea. But, of course, I +can say nothing until I'm better informed. What I'll do now will be to +look up her record and then I think I'll take a run down to Berkeley and +see if I can pick up anything there." + +Suzanne looked uneasy: + +"But you'll be careful, and not let any one guess what you're doing or +that you have any business with me?" + +He smiled openly at that: + +"Mrs. Price, you can trust me. This is not my first case." + +After that there was talk of financial arrangements and future plans. +Mr. Larkin thought he would come out to Berkeley in a day or two and +take a lodging in the village. When he had anything of moment to impart +he would drop a note to Mrs. Price and she could designate a rendezvous. +They parted amicably, Suzanne feeling that she had found the right man +and Mr. Larkin secretly elated, for this was the first case of real +magnitude that had come his way. + +At the appointed time Suzanne met Mrs. Janney at the tea room and on the +way home they exchanged their news. The nursery governess had been +found, approved and engaged, and the oculist had said to go on with the +lotion and if Bébita's eyes did not improve to bring her in to see him. +Both ladies agreed that their labors had exhausted them, but each looked +unusually vivacious and mettlesome. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII—MOLLY'S STORY +========================== + +I've been asked to tell the part of this story in which I figure. I've +done that kind of work before, so I'm not as shy as I was that first +time, and since then I've studied some, and come up against fine people, +and I'm older—twenty-seven on my last birthday. But as I said then, so +I'll say now—don't expect any stylish writing from me. At the +switchboard there's still ginger in me, but with the pen I'm one of the +"also rans." + +Fortunately for me, I was always a good one to throw a bluff and, having +made a few excursions into the halls of the rich and great, I felt I +could be safely featured as a nursery governess. She belongs in the +layer between the top and bottom and doesn't mix with either. I wouldn't +have to play down to the kitchen standards or up to the parlor ones, +just move along, sort of lonesome, in the neutral ground between. As for +teaching the child, I knew I could do that as well as the girls who are +marking time until they marry, or the decayed ladies who employ their +declining years and intellects that way. + +It didn't seem to me hard to size up the family. Mrs. Janney was the +head of it, the middle and both ends—a real queen who didn't need a +crown or a throne to make people bow the knee. Mr. Janney was a good, +kind old gentleman who was too law-abiding to get rich any way but the +way he did. Mrs. Price wasn't up to their measure—an only child, born +with a silver lining. She was one of those slimpsy, thin women that a +man would be afraid to hug for fear she'd crack in his arms or snap in +the middle. She was very cordial and pleasant to me and I will say she +was fond of her little girl. + +When I came to the servants I couldn't see but what every one of them +registered honesty. If it had been printed on their foreheads with a +rubber stamp it couldn't have been plainer. There were only two new ones +in the outfit—girls, one of them my chambermaid—and no one, not even a +sleuth desperate for glory, could have considered them. Outside there +were gardeners and chauffeurs—in all there were twenty-one people +employed—but it was the same with them. They were a decent, well-paid +lot, the garage men and head gardener living on the place, the laborers +lodged in the village. + +The one person my eye lingered on was Miss Maitland the Secretary. Not +that there was anything suspicious about her, but that she wasn't as +simple and easy to see into as the others. She was a handsome girl, +tall and well made, sticking close to her job and not having much to do +with any one. Her study was just under the day nursery where we had +lessons and had its own door on to the piazza. When she wasn't at work, +she'd either sit there reading or go off walking by herself and there +was something solitary and serious about her that interested me. The +nursery window was a good look-out, commanding the lawns and garden and +with the tennis court to one side. After lessons I'd let the blinds down +and coil up there on a cushion, and I saw her several times coming in +and going out, always alone, and always looking thoughtful and +depressed. + +To get any information about her I had to be very careful for Mrs. +Janney thought the world of her, but I managed to worm out some facts, +though nothing of any importance. She had come to Mrs. Janney from a +friend who had had her as secretary for two years. She was entirely +dependent on her work for her living, was an orphan, and had no +followers. The only thing the least degree out of line was that several +times during the spring and the early summer she had asked for more days +and afternoons off than formerly. Mrs. Janney didn't seem to think +anything of this and I didn't either. The girl—settled down in her +place and knowing it secure—was slackening up on her first speed. + +There were a lot of people coming and going in the house—oftenest, Mr. +Richard Ferguson. I'd heard of him—everybody has—millions, unmarried, +and so forth and so on. I hadn't been there thirty-six hours before I +saw that Mrs. Price had an eye for him. That's putting it in a +considerate, refined way. If I was the cat some women are, I'd say she +was camped on his trail, with her lassoo ready in her hand. Of course +she'd work it the way ladies do, very genteel, pretend to be lazy if he +wanted to play tennis and when he was off for a swim wonder if she had +the energy to walk to the beach. But she always got there; every time, +rain or shine, she'd be awake at the switch. I didn't know whether he +responded—you couldn't tell. He was the kind who was jolly and affable +to everybody; even if he was a plutocrat you had to like him. + +I had a good deal of time to myself—lessons only lasted two hours—and +I roamed round the neighborhood studying it. The second afternoon I went +into the woods, where there's a short-cut that goes past Council Oaks to +the beach. Off the path, branching to the right, I found two smaller +trails both leading to the same place—a pond, surrounded by trees, and +with a wharf, a rustic bench, and two bathing houses, where the trails +ended. In my room that evening I asked Ellen, my chambermaid, about the +pond and she told me it was called Little Fresh and that the bathing +houses and wharf had been built by the former owner of Grasslands. But +the first year of Mrs. Janney's occupation a boy from the village had +been drowned there, since when Mrs. Janney had forbidden any one to go +near or bathe in Little Fresh. She had put up trespassing signs and +locked the bath houses, and no one ever went there now, because, anyway +if you didn't go in and get drowned, folks said you might catch malaria. + +A few days after that Bébita asked me to go into the woods with her and +look for lady-slippers; the kitchen maid had found two and Bébita had to +see if there weren't any left for her. Everybody said it was too late +for them, but that didn't faze Bébita who had the kitchen maid's word +for it and was set upon going. + +The woods were lovely, all green and shimmery with sunlight. We took the +trail I've spoken of, I strolling along the path, and Bébita hunting +about in the underbrush for the flowers. I was some little distance +ahead of her when I saw a figure moving behind the screen of trees +toward the right. I could only catch it in broken bits through the +leaves, hear the footsteps soft on the moss, and I didn't know whether +it was a man or a woman. Then it came into view, out of the trail that +led to Little Fresh Pond, and I saw it was a man, who stopped short at +the sight of me. + +He was good-looking, the dark kind, naturally brown, and sunburned on +top of it until he was as swarthy as an Indian, the little mustache on +his upper lip as black as if it was painted on with ink. Now I'm not one +that thinks men ought to be stunned by my beauty, but also I don't +expect to be stared at as if the sight of me was an unpleasant shock. +And that's the way that piratical guy acted, standing rooted, glaring +angry from under his eyebrows. + +I was going to pass on haughty, when Bébita's voice came from behind in +a joyful cry of "Popsy." She rushed by me, her arms spread out, and +fairly jumped at him. The ugly look went from his face as if you'd wiped +it off with a sponge, and the one that took its place made him another +man. He caught her up and held her against him, and she locked her feet +behind his waist and her hands behind his neck swinging off from him and +laughing out: + +"Oh, Popsy, I was looking for lady-slippers and I found *you*." + +"Well," he said, gazing at her like he couldn't look enough, "would you +rather have found a lady-slipper?" + +She hugged up against him, awful sweet and cunning. + +"Oh, Popsy, that's a joke. I like you better than all the lady-slippers +in the world. Where have you been?" + +"Over on the bluff, calling on some people. I'm taking a short cut +through the woods." + +"Where are you going now?" + +"To Cedar Brook. My car's out there on the road at the end of the path." + +I knew Bébita had been told not to speak of her father. I'd heard it +from Annie and Mrs. Janney had cautioned me, if she asked any questions, +to say that he had gone away and was not coming back. Children are +queer, take in more than you think, and I believe the little thing felt +something of the tragedy of it. Anyway she said nothing more on that +subject, but loosing one hand, waved it at me. + +"That's my new governess, Miss Rogers. I'm studying lessons with her." + +He looked at me, and having no free hand, just nodded. Though his +expression wasn't as unfriendly as it had been, it didn't suggest any +desire to know me better. He turned back to Bébita. + +"Dearie, you'll have to let go for I must jog along. I've a date to play +tennis at Cedar Brook and I'm late now." + +He kissed her and she loosened her hold sliding through his arms to the +ground. Then with a few last words of good-by he swung off down the +path. Bébita looked after him till the trees hid him, gave a sigh, and +without a word pushed her little hand into mine and walked along beside +me. She seemed sobered for a while, then picked up heart, began to look +about her, and was soon back at her hunt for the flowers. + +I was nearing the second path to Little Fresh, when again I saw a figure +coming behind the trees. This time it showed in a moving pattern of +lilac and the sight made me brisk up for I'd seen Miss Maitland that +morning in a lilac linen dress. I quickened my step until I came to a +turning from which I could look up the branch trail, and sure enough, +there she was, walking very lightly and spying out ahead. At the sight +of me she too stopped and looked annoyed. But women are a good deal +quicker than men—in a minute the look was gone and she was all smiles +of welcome. + +"Oh, Miss Rogers, and Bébita too! How nice to meet you. Are you going to +the beach?" + +Bébita explained our quest and said she was going to give it up—there +wasn't a single lady-slipper left. + +Miss Maitland's smile was kind and consoling: + +"I could have told you that. They're gone for this year." + +"Have *you* been looking for them?" Bébita asked. + +No, Miss Maitland had been to the beach for a bath, and as the closed +season for lady-slippers had begun, we turned back, Bébita and the +Secretary in front, I meekly following. In answer to the child's +questions Miss Maitland said she had taken a long swim, out beyond the +raft. + +Suddenly Bébita popped out with: + +"Did you see my Daddy?" + +There was a slight pause before she answered; when she did her voice was +full of surprise: + +"Mr. Price! Was he on the beach?" + +"No, in the woods. We met him. He was taking a short cut." + +Miss Maitland said she hadn't seen him, that he must have been some +distance in front of her, and changed the subject. + +While they were talking I was thinking and absently looking at her back. +They'd both come out of the branch trails that led to Little Fresh; they +had taken different paths and not come at the same time; they had each +got a jar when they saw me. As I thought, my eyes went wandering over +her back and finally stopped at the nape of her neck. The hair was drawn +up from it and hidden under her hat. I could see the roots and the +little curly locks that drooped down against the white skin. And +suddenly I noticed something—they were perfectly dry, not a damp spot, +not a wet hair. The best bathing cap in the world couldn't keep the +water out like that. She had not been bathing at all, she had been with +Chapman Price at Little Fresh Pond. And they wanted no one to know; were +sufficiently anxious to lie about it. + +The next day in a conference with Mrs. Janney, I asked her if Mr. Price +had ever shown any interest in Miss Maitland. She was amazed, as shocked +as if I'd asked if Mr. Janney had ever been in love with the cook. +Chapman Price had taken no more notice of Miss Maitland than common +politeness demanded, in fact, she thought that of late he had rather +shunned her. She was curious to know why I asked such a question, and +when I said I had to ask any and every sort of question or she'd be +paying a detective's salary to a nursery governess, she saw the sense of +it and quieted down. + +That was more than I did. The way things were opening up, I was getting +that small, inner thrill, that feeling like your nerves are tingling +that comes to me when the darkness begins to break. I didn't see much, +just the first, faint glimmer, but it was the right kind. + +Two days later a thing happened that changed the glimmer to a wide +bright ray. It was this way: + +In the afternoon the family, unless they had a party of their own, were +always out. The only person who stayed around was Miss Maitland, +sometimes working over her books, sometimes sitting about sewing or +reading. That day—about four—I'd seen her as I passed the study window +writing at her desk. I'd gone on into the big central hall where I +wasn't supposed to belong, but feeling safe with everybody scattered, I +thought I'd make myself comfortable and take a look at the morning +papers. I'd just cuddled down in the corner of the sofa with my favorite +daily when I heard the telephone ring. + +Now the bell of the telephone is to me like the trumpet to the old war +horse. And hearing it that way, tingling in the quiet of the big, +deserted house, I got a flash that any one wanting to talk to Miss +Maitland and knowing the habits of the family would choose that hour. +There was a 'phone in the lower story—in a closet at the end of the +hall—and the extension one was upstairs in a sort of curtained recess +off the main corridor just outside my door. I rose off the sofa as if +lifted by a charge of dynamite and slid for the stairs. As I sprinted up +I heard the door of Miss Maitland's study open. + +The upper hall was deserted and I dashed noiseless into that alcove +place, one hand lifting off the receiver as soft as a feather, the other +pressed against my mouth to smother the sound of my breathing. On the +floor below Esther Maitland had just connected; I got her first +sentence, quiet and clear as if she was in the room with me: + +"Yes. This is Grasslands." + +A man's voice answered: + +"That you, Esther?" + +I could tell she recognized it, for instantly hers changed, showed fear +and a sort of pleading: + +"Oh, why do you call me up here? I told you not to." + +"My dear girl, it's all right—I know they're all out at this hour." + +"The servants—I'm afraid of them—and there's a new nursery governess +come." + +"I know. I met her in the woods that day. Did you?" + +"Of course I did. How could I help it? I said I'd been bathing. We +mustn't go there again—it's much better to write." + +The man gave a laugh that was good-humored and easy: + +"Don't take it so hard. There's not the slightest need to be worried. I +called you up to say everything was O. K." + +Her answer came with a deep, sighing breath: + +"It may be now—but how can we tell? The first excitement's dying down +but that doesn't mean they're not doing anything. Don't think for a +moment, because it's worked right so far, that we're out of the woods." + +"I'm wise to all that, I know them better than you do. And the fellow +that knows has got it all over the fellow that doesn't. Watchful +waiting—that's our motto." + +"Very well, then *let* it be watchful. And don't call me up unless it's +urgent. I can see you in town when I go in. I won't talk any more. +Good-by." + +I heard the stillness of a dead wire and then before I let myself think, +flew into my room, found a pad and pencil and wrote it down word for +word. + + + + +CHAPTER IX—GOOD HUNTING IN BERKELEY +=================================== + +Two days after his interview with Suzanne, Mr. Larkin came to Berkeley +and took a room at the Berkeley Arms. He registered as Henry Childs, and +described himself to the clerk as a plumber, who, having had a +prosperous year, was looking for a bit of land upon which to build a +bungalow. + +Berkeley was much too exclusive to permit a hotel within its exclusive +limits and the Berkeley Arms was allowed to exist in a small, subdued +way as a convenience. It was an unassuming, gray-shingled building, +withdrawn behind a lilac hedge, and too near the station to mar the +smart and shining elegance of the main street. In it dwelt the +shop-keepers who plied a temporary summer trade in the village, and the +chauffeurs of the less wealthy cottagers. Here the detective heard much +talk of the Janney robbery, and, after he had extended his field of +observation to the post-office lobby and Bennett's drug store, Berkeley +had no secrets from him. + +The public mind was still occupied with all that pertained to +Grasslands. He heard of the separation of the Prices, the scene *he* had +made on leaving, and that *she* hadn't treated him right. Berkeley was +on Chapman's side, said she wanted to get rid of him to marry Ferguson. +It was hoped that Ferguson—highly esteemed—wasn't going to fall for +it; but you couldn't tell, the best men made mistakes. Gossips, who +professed an intimacy with the Grasslands kitchens, hinted that Ferguson +was "taken with" the secretary. But Berkeley, fattened by prosperity to +a gross snobbishness, rejected the idea as vulgar and unfitting. + +All this had its value for Mr. Larkin, but it was by accident that he +acquired the most illuminating piece of intelligence. Late one afternoon +he wandered forth into a road that threaded the woods near Grasslands. +The day being warm, the way dusty, he seated himself on a rock to cool +off and ponder. While there, concealed by the surrounding trees, he had +seen two small boys padding toward him down the road, their heads +together in animated debate. Unaware of his presence their voices were +loud and his listening ear caught interesting matter. They had been in +the forbidden area of Grasslands, had gone to Little Fresh for a bathe, +and had almost been caught in the act by a lady and gentleman. + +Mr. Larkin made his presence known, and a dime passed into each grubby +palm won their confidence. + +They were on the wharf slipping off their clothes when they heard +footsteps and had only time to rush to cover in the underbrush when Mr. +Chapman Price appeared. He waited round a bit and then Miss Maitland +came and they sat on the bench and talked. The boys had not been able to +hear what they said, but that it was serious they gathered from Mr. +Price's manner and the fact that Miss Maitland had cried for a spell. +Mr. Price went away first, and as he was going he said loud, standing in +the path, "Take the upper trail and if you meet anybody say you've been +at the beach bathing." Then he'd gone and Miss Maitland had waited a +while, and then she'd gone too, by the upper trail, the way he'd said. + +Mr. Larkin had been very sympathetic and friendly, swore he'd keep his +mouth shut, and cautioned the boys to do the same, for he'd heard that +Mrs. Janney wouldn't stand for any one bathing in Little Fresh and you +couldn't tell but what she might have them arrested. + +The next day he had a meeting with Suzanne in a summer-house on the +Setons' grounds, the Setons being in California for the season. He gave +his report of Miss Maitland's career—entirely worthy and +respectable—and then asked the question Molly had asked Mrs. Janney: +had Mr. Price ever exhibited any special interest in the secretary? Mrs. +Price's surprise and denial were as genuine and emphatic as her +mother's had been and Mr. Larkin arrived at the same conclusion as +Molly—here started the path that led to the heart of the maze. + +He did not say this to Mrs. Price. What he did say was that he would +leave Berkeley shortly and when he had anything of importance to tell +make an appointment with her by letter. It was not necessary to inform +her that his next move would be to Cedar Brook where he had heard that +Chapman Price spent a good deal of his time. + +Cedar Brook, six miles above Berkeley on the main line, had none of the +prestige of its aristocratic neighbor. It was in the process of +development, new houses rising round its outskirts, fields being turned +into lawns. Mr. Larkin took a room in a clapboarded cottage which stared +at other clapboarded cottages through the foliage of locust trees. +Announcing his intention of buying a piece of land, he was soon an +object of general attention and added to his store of knowledge. He +heard a good deal of Chapman Price, who was there off and on with the +Hartleys, and of his man Willitts. It was understood that Willitts was +staying with Price till he got a job, and, as the Hartley house was +small, lodged in the village; in fact, Mr. Larkin learned to his +satisfaction, was living in one of the clapboarded cottages close to his +own. + +Professing a desire to study the environs of Cedar Brook he hired a +wheel, and the third afternoon of his stay peddled out into the country. +It was while passing the private hedge of a large estate, that he came +upon a young man engaged over a disabled bicycle. + +The day was warm, the salt air of the Sound shut out by forest and hill, +the road bathed in a hot glow of sun. The man had taken off his coat, +and, as Mr. Larkin drew near, looked up displaying a smooth-shaven, rosy +face, beaded with perspiration. + +Mr. Larkin, being by nature and profession curious, drew up and made +friendly inquiries. The man answered them, explained the nature of the +damage, his speech marked by the crisp, clipped enunciation of the +Briton. His costume—negligée shirt, knickerbockers and golf +stockings—did not suggest the country house guest, nor was his accent +quite that of the English gentleman. The detective, who had some +knowledge of these delicate distinctions, laid his bicycle against the +bank and proffered his assistance. Together they repaired the stranger's +wheel, and, when it was done, rested from their labors in the shade of +the hedge, and engaged in conversation. This at first was of the +war—the young man explaining that he was English and had volunteered at +once, but been rejected on the ground of his eyes—very near-sighted, +couldn't read the chart at all—touching with an indicating finger the +glasses that spanned his nose. After that he'd come to America; he could +make good money then and had people dependent on him. At this stage Mr. +Larkin asked his profession and learned that he was a valet, by name +James Willitts, just now looking for a place. He *had* been in the +employ of Mr. Chapman Price and was still staying with him until he got +a new "situation." Mr. Larkin in return recited his little lay about the +plumbing business and the bungalow, and, the introductions accomplished, +they passed to more general topics and soon reached the Janney robbery. + +It was a propitious meeting for the detective, for Willitts proved +himself a free and expansive talker. He launched forth into the subject +with an artless zest, not needing any prompting from his attentive +listener. Mr. Larkin was grateful for it all, but especially so for an +account of the movements of Mr. Price the day before the robbery. He had +sent his valet to Cedar Brook on the morning train, he to follow later +in the afternoon. Willitts, after the unpacking and settling was done, +had biked over to Grasslands to see "the help," and then made the +engagement to meet them that night at the movies. Of course he had to go +back, as part of his work was to lay out Mr. Price's dinner clothes and +help him dress, and it was most unfortunate, because, when he went up to +Mr. Price's room, Mr. Price said he wouldn't change, would keep on the +clothes he had and go motoring. + +"Motoring," observed Mr. Larkin, mildly interested, "did he motor in the +evening?" + +"Not usually—but I don't know if you remember that night. After a heavy +rain it cleared and the moon came out as bright as day." + +Mr. Larkin didn't remember himself but he had a vague recollection of +having read it in some of the papers. + +"It was a wonderful night, and if it hadn't been I'd never have kept my +date. For I got side-tracked—had to fetch the doctor for my landlady's +little girl who was taken bad with the croup. And what with that and the +long distance I'd have given it up if it hadn't been for the moon." + +The detective did not find these details particularly pertinent, and +edged nearer to vital matters: + +"Pretty unpleasant position for those two men, Dixon and Isaac. I was in +Berkeley before I came here and there was a lot of talk." + +The valet looked at him with sharp surprise: + +"But no suspicion rests on *them*, I'll be bound. I lived in that house +since last October and I'll swear that there's not an honester pair in +the whole country." + +Mr. Larkin, as a stranger to the parties, had no need to display a +corresponding warmth, merely remarking that Berkeley was convinced of +their innocence. + +The young man appeased, felt in his coat for a pipe and drew a tobacco +pouch from his pocket. As he filled the bowl, his profile was presented +to the detective's vigilant eye, which dwelt thoughtfully on the neat +outline, almost handsome except that the chin receded slightly. A good +looking fellow, Mr. Larkin thought, and smart—somehow as the +conversation had progressed he was beginning to think him smarter than +he had at the start. + +"How about that Miss Maitland," he said, "the young lady secretary?" + +Willitts had the pipe in his mouth and was pressing the tobacco down +with his thumb. He spoke through closed teeth: + +"What about her?" + +"Well, what sort is she? You needn't tell me she's good looking, for I +saw her once in the post office and she's a peach." + +The valet leaned forward and felt in his coat pocket for matches. The +movement presented his face in full to Mr. Larkin's glance, and the +detective noticed that its bright alertness had diminished, that a +slight film of stolidity had formed over it like ice over a running +stream. The man had removed his pipe and held it in one hand while he +scrabbled round in his coat with the other. + +"She's a very fine young lady; nothing but good's ever been said of her +in *my* hearing. And very competent in her work—they say—and she would +be, or Mrs. Janney wouldn't keep her." + +He found the matches and, sitting upright, lit one and applied it to the +pipe bowl. The detective, with his eyes ready to swerve to the +landscape, hazarded a shot at the bull's-eye. + +"They were saying—or more hinting I guess you'd call it—that Mr. Price +was—er—getting to look her way too often." + +Willitts was very still. The watching eyes noticed that the flame of the +match burned steady over the pipe bowl; for a moment the valet's breath +was held. Then, without moving, his voice peculiarly quiet, he said: + +"Now I'd like to know who told you *that*?" + +The other gave a lazy laugh: + +"Oh, I can't tell—every kind of rumor was flying about. They were ready +to say anything." + +"Yes, that's it. Say anything to get listened to and not care whose +character they were taking away." + +"Then there's nothing in it?" + +"Tommyrot!" he snorted out the word with intense irritation. "The silly +fools! Mr. Price is no more in love with her than I am. He's not that +kind; he's an honorable gentleman. And, believe me, the wrong's not all +on his side. It's not for me to tell tales of the family, but I will say +that there's not many men could have put up with what he did." + +His face was flushed, he was openly exasperated. Mr. Larkin remembered +what he had heard of the man's affection for the master, and his +thoughts formed into an unspoken sentence, "He knows something and won't +tell." + +"Well, well," he said cheerfully, "when a big thing happens there's +bound to be all sorts of scandal and surmise. People work off their +excitement that way; you can't muzzle 'em—" + +Willitts grunted a scornful assent and rose. It was time to go; Mr. +Price would be coming up from town that night and he would be on duty. +The detective, lifting his bicycle from the grass, casually inquired if +Mr. Price motored from the city. + +"Oh, dear no. He keeps his car here in Sommers' garage—he needs it, +taking people about to see the country. He made a tidy bit of money here +last week." + +"Talking of money," said the other, "did you know that ten thousand +dollars' reward has been offered for those jewels?" + +Willitts, astride his wheel, stretched a feeling foot for the pedal: + +"Yes, I saw it in the papers." + +"Easy money for somebody." + +"Yes, but *is* there somebody beside the thief—or thieves—who knows? +*That's* the question." + +They pedaled back side by side talking amicably, mutually pleased to +find they were neighbors. On the outskirts of the village they parted +with promises for a speedy reunion, Willitts to go to the Hartleys, and +Mr. Larkin to Sommers' garage to ask the price of a flivver for an +excursion beyond the reach of his bicycle. + +When he arrived at the garage a large touring car, packed full of veiled +females, was drawn up at the entrance. The driver, with Sommers and his +assistant beside him, had opened the hood and the three of them were +peering into the inner depths with the anxious concentration of doctors +studying the anatomy of a patient. Mr. Larkin walked by them and went +into the garage. He cast a rapid look about him, over the lined-up +motors in the back, and then through the doorway into the small office. +The place was empty. With a stealthy glance at the party round the +touring car, he strolled in to where the time card rack hung on the +wall. He ran his eye down the list of names until he came to "Price" and +drew out the card. The second entry was dated July seventh and showed +that that night Price had taken out his car at eight-thirty and not +returned it until five minutes to two. + + + + +CHAPTER X—MOLLY'S STORY +======================= + +As soon as I had the notes of that 'phone message down I wrote a report +for the Whitney office—just an outline—and posted it myself in the +village. The answer with instructions came the following evening. The +next time Miss Maitland went into town I was to come with her. In the +concourse of the Pennsylvania station I'd see O'Malley (the Whitneys' +detective) and it would be my business to point her out to him. He was +to follow her and I to come to the office and make my full report. Say +nothing of what I'd heard to Mrs. Janney. + +That was Tuesday; Thursday was Miss Maitland's holiday and right along +she'd been going into town. Wednesday afternoon I heard her say she'd go +in as usual on the eight forty-five, tipped off the office by 'phone, +and told Mrs. Janney I'd need that day to make a report to Mr. +Whitney—a business formality that had to be observed. + +Miss Maitland and I went in together, looking very sociable on the +outside, and talking about the weather, the new style in skirts, how +flat Long Island was, and other such ladylike topics. Coming off the +train I stuck to her like a burr, was almost arm in arm going up the +stairs, and then in the concourse broke myself loose and faded away +toward the news stand. Right there, leaning against the magazine end, +I'd seen a large, fat, sloppy-looking man, with a tired panama hat back +from his forehead, and a masonic emblem on his watch chain. + +O'Malley was a first class worker in his line, and his appearance was +worth rubies. He'd a small-town, corner-grocery look that would have +fooled any one unless they'd a scent for a sleuth like a dog for a bone. +As I edged up near him, reaching out for a magazine, he cast a cold, +disdainful glance at me like the rube that's wise to the dangers of the +great city. I dragged a magazine out from behind his back and whispered, +"In the lavender dress and the white hat with the grapes round it." And +dreamy, as if his thoughts were back with mother on the farm, he heaved +himself up from the stand and took the trail. + +The Chief—that's my name for Mr. Whitney—and Mr. George were waiting +for me in the old man's office. Gee, it was great to be there again, +like times in the past when we'd meet together and thrash out the last +findings. Of course the Chief had to have his joke, holding me by the +shoulders and cocking his head to one side as he looked into my face: + +"My, my, Molly, but the country's put a bloom on you! What a pity it is +you're married or you might get one of those millionaires down there." + +And I couldn't help answering fresh—he just sort of dares you to it: + +"I won't say but what I might, Chief. But it's poor sport. Seeing what +they've got to choose from it would be a shame to take the money." + +Mr. George was impatient—he always gets bristly when things are +moving—and cut us off from our fooling when a sharp: + +"Come on, Molly, sit down and let's hear the whole of this." + +So I took up the white man's burden, told them all I'd seen and heard +and picked up, ending off with the full notes of the 'phone talk. Then I +laid the paper on the table and looked at them. The Chief was gazing +thoughtfully at the floor, and Mr. George's face was puckered with a +frown like he'd eaten a persimmon. + +"It's the queerest thing I ever heard in my life," he said. "Chapman and +that girl! Why, it's impossible. Are you sure the man on the 'phone +*was* Chapman?" + +"It must have been. He spoke of meeting me in the woods and Mr. Price is +the only man I ever met there." + +The Chief looked up, glowering at me from under his big eyebrows: + +"What's your opinion of this Maitland woman?" + +"Well, I don't think there's anything wrong about her—I mean I'd never +get that impression from her general make-up. But before I tapped that +message, I did get a hunch that she was sort of abstracted and shut away +in herself. She'd lonesome habits and she'd look downhearted when she +thought no one saw her. I'd size her up roughly as some one who wasn't +easy in her mind." + +"Have you ever heard anything of her having any sort of affair or +friendship with Price?" + +"Not a hint of it. That's what made me sit up and take notice. Under +everybody's eye the way they were and yet not a soul suspecting +anything—you're not as secret as that for nothing." + +"While they were talking on the 'phone did you notice anything in their +voices—it certainly wasn't in the words—that suggested tenderness or +love?" + +"No, it was more as if they knew each other well. He sounded as if he +was trying to jolly her along, keep up her spirits; and she as if she +was scared, not at *him* but at what he might do." + +"They'd be careful," said Mr. George. "A man and a woman who were +involved in some dangerous scheme wouldn't coo at each other over the +wire like two turtle doves." + +"Love's hard to hide," said the old man, "betrays itself in small ways. +And Molly's got a fine, trained ear." + +"Well, it caught no love there, Chief. The only person at Grasslands +who's got that complaint is Mrs. Price. She's in love with Mr. +Ferguson." + +Mr. George was very much surprised. + +"The deuce you say!—Old Dick fallen at last." + +The Chief gave a sort of sarcastic grunt. + +"Ferguson can take care of himself. He's not as big a fool as he looks +or pretends to be. Now these extra holidays of Miss Maitland's you've +spoken of—how long has that been going on?" + +"Since April. Before that she never wanted time off and often spent her +Thursdays in the house. At Grasslands this summer she's gone into town +every Thursday and three times asked for extra days. The last was July +the eighth, the day after the robbery." + +"Umph!" muttered the old man. "I guess we'll know something about that +when we hear from O'Malley." + +Mr. George, slumped down in his chair, with his hands thrust in his +pockets, his chin pressed on his collar, said gloomily: + +"I confess I'm dazed. It's perfectly possible that Chapman, who didn't +like his wife, should have fallen in love with the girl, it's perfectly +natural that they should have kept it dark; but that he's joined with +her in a plan to steal Mrs. Janney's jewels!"—he shook his head +staring in front of him—"I can't get the focus. Price wouldn't qualify +for a Sunday school superintendent, but I can't seem to see him as a +gentleman burglar." + +"He was mad when he left," I said. "He made a sort of scene." + +"What's that?" growled the old man, looking up quick. + +"He got angry and threatened them. I don't know just in what way because +I've only caught it in bits and scraps. But Dixon heard him and told in +the village where I picked up an echo of it. He said they'd stolen his +child." + +"Sounds like him—an ugly temper. Try and get exactly what he said if +you can." + +We talked on a while, going back and forth over it like a lawn mower +over grass. Then a knock on the door stopped us; a boy put in his head +and announced: + +"Mr. O'Malley's outside and wants to see Mr. Whitney." + +Mr. George and I squared round in our chairs with our eyes glued on the +doorway. The Chief, slouched down comfortable with his shirt-bosom +bulging, looked like a sleepy old bear, but from under the jut of his +eyebrows his glance shone as keen as a razor. O'Malley entered, hot and +red, his panama in his hand, and that air about him I've seen before—a +suppressed triumph gleaming out through the cracks. + +"Well?" says Mr. George, curt and sharp. + +O'Malley took a chair and mopped his forehead: + +"There's no mistake she's got something up her sleeve. She took the +Seventh Avenue car and went downtown until she came to Jefferson Court +house, got out there, went a few blocks into the Greenwich Village +section and stopped at a house on a small sort of thoroughfare called +Gayle Street. I think she let herself in with a key, but I'm not sure. +The place is a shady-looking rookery, no porch or steps, door opening +right on the sidewalk, three windows to each floor, mansard roof. About +ten minutes after she went in, a man came down the street, walking +quick, hat low over his eyes—it was Mr. Chapman Price." + +Mr. George stirred and gave a mutter. The old man, stretching his hand +to the cigar box at his elbow, took out a large fat cigar and said: + +"Price, eh?—Go on." + +"I thought the lady'd used a key, and I saw plain that he did. The door +opened and he went in. I crossed over and looked at the bells. There +were nine of them, all with names underneath except the top floor ones. +These, the last three of the line, had no names, showing the top floor +was vacant. + +"There was a drug store right opposite and I went in, took a soda, and +asked the clerk about the locality—said I was looking for lodgings in +that section. I got him round to the house, where I heard I might get a +room cheap. He said maybe I could—being summer there'd be +vacancies—that the place was decent enough, but he'd heard pretty poor +and mean. Just as I got through talking to him and was leaving I saw the +door across the street open, and Mr. Price come out. He came quick, on +the slant, and was among the folks on the sidewalk before you could +notice. It was the way a man acts when he doesn't want to be seen. He +walked off toward Seventh Avenue, his head down, keeping close to the +houses. I didn't wait for Miss Maitland—thought I'd better come back +here and report." + +"Well!" said Mr. George. "I'm jiggered if I can make head or tail of +it." + +The Chief took the cigar out of his mouth and addressed O'Malley: + +"Find out Price's movements on the night of July seventh, everything he +did, everywhere he went." He turned to me. "And you want to remember not +a hint of this gets to Mrs. Janney. She hates Price and when her blood's +up she's a red Indian. We don't want the family drawn in until we know +something." + + + + +CHAPTER XI—FERGUSON'S IDEA +========================== + +During these days Dick Ferguson thought a good deal and said very +little. Like the rest of his world he wondered over the unsolved mystery +of the Janney robbery, but his wonderings contained an element of +discomfort. He heard the subject discussed everywhere and often the name +of Esther Maitland came up in the discussions. Not that any one ever +suggested she might be involved;—it was more a sympathetic appreciation +of her position. Every one spoke very feelingly about it:—poor girl, so +uncomfortable for her, knowing the combination and all that sort of +thing—the Janneys had stood by her splendidly, but still it *was* +trying. + +It tried *him* a good deal, made inroads on his temper, until it lost +its sunny evenness and he was sometimes short and surly. The day after +Molly and Esther went to town he had been called to a conference in the +Fairfax house on the bluff. A gang of motor boat thieves had been +operating along the Sound, had already stolen two launches, and the +owners of water-front property had convened to decide on a course. +Ferguson, with a small fleet to his credit, had taken rather a high +hand, and shown an unwonted irritation at the indecision of his +associates. If they wanted their boats protected it was up to them to do +it, establish a shore police patrol financed by themselves. That was +what he intended to do and they could join with him or not as they +pleased. He left them, ruffled by his brusqueness and remarking grumpily +that "Ferguson was beginning to feel his money." + +He went from the meeting to his own beach and on the way met Suzanne +returning with Bébita from the morning bath. They stopped for a chat in +the course of which Suzanne made a series of remarks not calculated to +soothe his perturbed spirit. They were apropos of Miss Maitland, who had +taken an early morning swim, all alone, refusing to wait and go in with +them. Suzanne said it was a pity Miss Maitland kept so much to +herself—the girl seemed depressed and out of spirits lately, didn't he +think so? Quite different to what she had been earlier in the season, +seemed to be troubled about something. Too bad—every one liked her so +much, and people *did* talk so. Then with an artless smile she went off +under her white parasol. + +There was no smile on Ferguson's face as he walked to his boat houses. +He told his men of the police patrol—to operate along the shore after +nightfall—gave a few gruff orders and disappeared into a bath house. +When he emerged, stripped for a swim, he stalked silently by them and +dove from the end of the wharf. They were surprised at his manner, +usually so genial, and wondered among themselves watching his head, +sleek as a wet seal's, receding over the shining water. + +The head was full of what Suzanne had said. Though he had offered no +agreement to her suggestions, he *had* noticed the change in Esther. He +had noticed it soon after the robbery, in fact before that, for it had +dated from the evening when she dined at his house, the night the jewels +were taken. Disturbance grew in him as he thought:—if so shallow a +creature as Suzanne could see it, others could. And Suzanne had no +sense, no realization of the weight of words. She might go round +chattering like a fool and get the girl talked about. It would be the +decent thing to give Esther a hint, put her wise to the fact that she +ought to brighten up—not give any one a chance to say she was not as +she had been. + +As his long, muscular body slid through the water he decided to go over +and have a talk with her. The decision cheered him, for to be with +Esther Maitland was the keenest pleasure he knew. + +Suzanne had told him she and her mother would be out that afternoon, so +at three—the hour they were to leave—he set out for Grasslands by the +wood path. As he crossed the garden his questing glance met an +encouraging sight—Esther Maitland sitting under a group of maples at +the end of the terrace. She was alone, an empty chair beside her, her +head bowed over a book. + +Her welcoming smile was very sweet; his eye noticed a faint color rise +in her cheeks as he came up. These signs were so agreeable that he would +like to have sat there, placidly enjoying her presence, but he was a +person who once possessed by an idea "had to get it out of his system." +This he proceeded to do, advancing on his subject with what he thought +was a crafty indirectness: + +"You know, Miss Maitland, you're not a credit to Long Island." + +She raised her brows, deprecating, also amused: + +"What have I done?" + +"It's what you haven't done. We expect people to come here worn and +weary and then blossom like the rose. You've gone back on the +tradition." + +She stretched a hand for a bundle of knitting—a soldier's muffler—on +the table beside her: + +"I don't feel worn or weary and I'm sorry I look so." + +"Oh, you always *look* lovely," he hastily assured her. "I didn't mean +that it wasn't becoming. But—er—er—what I wanted to say was—er—why +is it?" + +Miss Maitland began to knit, her face bent over the work, her dark head +backed by the green distances of the lawn. Ferguson thought she had the +most beautifully shaped head he had ever seen. He would like to have +leaned back in his chair studying its classic outline. But he was there +for a purpose and he held himself sternly to it, looking at her profile +and trying to forget that it was as fine as her head. + +"I don't know why it is," she answered, "but I do know that you're not +very complimentary." + +"If you give me a dare like that I'll show you how complimentary I *can* +be. But I'll put that off until later. What I think is that you're +worrying—that the robbery has got on your nerves." + +"Why should it get on my nerves?" + +He was aware of her eyes—diverted from the knitting—looking curiously +at him: + +"Why, it's been so—so—unpleasant, all this fuss and publicity. It's +been a shock." + +Her hands with the knitting dropped into her lap. She was now staring +fixedly at him: + +"Do you mean that I'm worrying because I think I may be suspected of +it?" + +He was shocked to angry repudiation. + +"Good Lord, no! What a thing to say!" + +She took up her work, and answered with cool composure: + +"Nevertheless I *have* wondered if anybody ever thought it. You see I'm +the only one in the house—the only one who knows the combination—who +*is* a sort of stranger. Dixon and Isaac are like members of the +family." + +"Don't talk such rubbish," he protested, then leaning nearer, "Have you +had *that* on your mind all this time? Is *that* what's made the +change?" + +She looked up at him, startled: + +"Change—what change?" + +"Change in you. Yes," in answer to the disturbed inquiry of her glance, +"there is one. I've noticed it; other people have." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Why, you're different, you've lost your good spirits. You're not like +you were before this happened." + +Her response came with something combative in its countering quickness: + +"I'm busier than I used to be. Since the robbery I've taken over a good +deal of the housekeeping. Mrs. Janney has been much more upset than you +guess." + +"And you're so withdrawn, keep more to yourself. I used to find you +about when I came over; now I almost never see you." + +The interview had taken on the character of a verbal duel, he thrusting, +she parrying, both earnest and insistent. + +"I've just told you; I have more work, I've not the leisure I used to +have." + +"So busy you have to shun people?" + +"That's absurd, you imagine it. I've never shunned any one and there's +no reason why I should." + +"I agree with you but let me ask one more question. You say your work is +harder and you *do* look tired and worn out. Why don't you take a decent +rest on your holidays? Last year you spent them here, out of doors, +loafing about. Now you go to town. I've been over twice on Thursdays and +when I ask for you, always hear you're in the city. And you've been at +other times too—Mrs. Janney told me so. It's the most fatiguing thing +you can do in this hot weather. Why do you go?" + +He saw her color suddenly deepen. She had let the knitting drop to her +lap and now she took it up again and began to work, very fast, the +needles flashing in her white hands. She smiled as she answered: + +"You seem to have kept rather a sharp look-out on me, Mr. Ferguson. Did +it never occur to you that a woman *might* need clothes, or might want +to see a friend who happened to be staying in town for the summer?" + +The young man had been admiring the white hands. As she spoke something +in their movements caught and held his eye—they were trembling. He was +so surprised that he made no answer, his glance riveted on them trying +to hold the needles steady to their task. Miss Maitland made an effort +to go on, then dropped the knitting in a bunch on her knees and clasped +the hands over it. Neither speaking, their eyes met. The expression of +hers, furtively apprehensive like a scared child's pierced his heart and +he leaned toward her, his sunburned face full of concern: + +"Miss Maitland, what's wrong? Something is—tell me." + +Without answering she shook her head, her lips tightly compressed. He +could see that she was shaken, that the clasped hands on her knee were +clenched together to control their trembling. He could see that, for a +moment, taken unawares, she did not trust herself to speak. + +"Look here," he said, low and urgent, "be frank with me. I've seen for +some time something was troubling you—I told you so that night at my +place. Why not let me lend a hand? That's what I want to do—that's what +I'm *for*." + +She had found her voice and it came with a high, light hardness, in +curious contrast to the feeling in his: + +"You're all wrong, Mr. Ferguson. You're seeing what doesn't exist." She +started to her feet, making a grab at her knitting as it slid toward the +ground. "Oh, my needle! I almost pulled it out. That *would* have been a +calamity." She carefully pushed the stitches on to the needle as if her +whole interest lay in preserving the woven fabric. "There I've picked +them up, not lost one." Then she looked at them, smiling, her expression +showing a veiled defiance, "You ought to have been a novelist—your +imagination's wasted. Here you are seeing me as a distressed damsel, +while I'm only a perfectly normal, perfectly common-place person. +Romantic fiction would have been your line." + +She gave a laugh that brought the blood to the young man's face, for its +musical ripple contained a note of derision: + +"But for my sake please curb your fancy. Don't suggest to my employers +that I'm weighted down by a secret sorrow. They mightn't like a blighted +being for a secretary and I might lose my job, and then I really *would* +be worried." + +He stood it unflinching, only the dark flush betraying his +mortification. He assured her of his reticence and ended by asking her +pardon. She granted it, even thanked him for his concern in her behalf +and with a smile that was still mocking, said she had notes to write, +gathered up her work, and bade him good-by. + +Dick Ferguson walked back through the woods to Council Oaks. When the +first discomfort of the rebuff had passed he pondered deeply. He was +sure now beyond the peradventure of a doubt that Esther Maitland was in +trouble of some kind, and was ready to use all the weapons at her +command to keep him from finding it out. + +Two nights after that he dined at Grasslands. It was just a family +party, and, being such, Miss Maitland was present. She met him with the +subdued quietness that he was beginning to recognize as her "social +secretary manner"—the manner of the lady employee, politely colorless +and self-effacing. + +In the dining room, with its clustered lights along the walls, where +long windows framed the deep blue night, they looked a gay and goodly +party. To the unenlightened observer they might have stood for a typical +group of the care-free rich, waited on by obsequious menials, feeding +sumptuously in sumptuous surroundings. Yet each one of them was preyed +upon by secret anxieties. + +When the ladies withdrew Mr. Janney and Ferguson sat on smoking and +sipping their coffee. If every member of the party had his hidden +distress, Mr. Janney's was by no means the least. His problem was still +unsolved, still menacing. Kissam's suggestion and his own fond hope, +that the jewels would be restored had not been realized, and he was +contemplating the day when he would have to face Suzanne with his +knowledge. Damocles beneath the suspended sword was not more +uncomfortable than he. Any allusion to the robbery made his heart sink, +and, as the allusions were frequent, conversation had become a thing +harkened to with held breath and sick anticipation. + +Alone with Ferguson he was experiencing the usual qualms, but the young +man, instead of the customary questions, asked him his opinion of +Willitts, Chapman's valet, whom he thought of engaging. Mr. Janney +brightened up, told Dixon to bring some of his own especial cigars, and +relapsed into tranquillity. He could recommend Willitts highly, smart, +capable and honest, but he thought he'd heard Dick say he couldn't stand +a valet fussing about him. Dick had said it and was still of the same +mind, but most of his guests were men and he needed some one to look +after their clothes. They made a lot of bother, the servants had kicked, +and he'd thought of Willitts. + +Mr. Janney could give no information as to Willitts' whereabouts, but +Dixon, entering with the cigar box and lamp, could. Willitts was at +Cedar Brook where Mr. Price spent a good deal of time; he was still +disengaged and looking for a position, if Mr. Ferguson would like Dixon +would get word to him. Mr. Ferguson would like, and, the box presented +at his elbow, he took out a cigar and held its tip to the lamp. Mr. +Janney forgot Willitts and drew his guest's attention to the cigar, a +special brand of rare excellence. + +"We keep them in the safe," said the old man. "Only place that's secure +against the damp. It was Chapman's idea—the one thing in my +acquaintance with Chapman I'm grateful for." + +It was an unfortunate remark, for Ferguson, leaning back in his chair +with the cigar between his lips, murmured dreamily: + +"The safe—do you know I've been thinking over things lately. I can't +understand one point. Why didn't the thief take those jewels when the +house was virtually empty instead of waiting until it was full?" + +Mr. Janney's heart took a dizzying, downward dive. He had been looking +forward to his smoke, now all his zest departed, his old, veined hand +shaking as it felt in the box. + +Ferguson went on: + +"The fellow may have come in early and hidden himself—not got down to +business until every one was asleep." + +Mr. Janney emitted an agreeing murmur and motioned Dixon to hold the +lamp nearer. As he bent toward it the young man was silent and Mr. +Janney began to hope that the obnoxious subject was abandoned. He sent +a side glance at his guest and the hope was strengthened. Ferguson had +taken his cigar from his lips and was looking at the paper band that +encircled it. He was looking at it so intently that Mr. Janney felt sure +his interest was diverted and sought to drive it into safer channels. + +"Pretty fine cigar, eh?" he said. "This is the first of a new lot, just +come." + +Ferguson drew the band off and laid it beside his plate: + +"Excellent. That's a good idea—keeping them in the safe. Do you always +do it?" + +"Yes, it's the only thing—much better than a humidor." + +"I haven't got a safe or I'd try it. Did you have any there the night of +the robbery?" + +Mr. Janney felt that the gods had sought him out for a special vengeance +and murmured drearily: + +"I believe so—a few. Dixon knows." + +Dixon who was on his way to the door turned: + +"Yes, sir, only one box, the last we had." + +Ferguson laughed: + +"If the thief had had time to try one he'd have taken the box along +too." + +Dixon, who treated all allusions to the subject with a tragical +seriousness, said: + +"I don't think he touched them, sir. The box looked just the same. Mr. +Kissam was very particular to ask about it, but I told him I thought +they was intact, as you might say. Though if it was the loss of one or +two I couldn't be certain." + +Dixon left the room and Mr. Janney looked dismally at his plate, having +no spirit to fight against fate. Ferguson, with a glance at his +down-drooped face, picked up the band and slipped it in his pocket. + +He did not stay long after dinner. As soon as his car came he left, +telling the chauffeur to hurry. At home he ran up the stairs to his +room, switched on the light over the bureau and opened the box with the +crystal lid. Under the studs and pins lay the band Esther had found the +night he walked with her through the woods. He compared it with the one +he took from his pocket and saw that they matched. The new one he threw +into the fireplace, but put the other back in the box—it was something +more than a souvenir. Then he sat down on the end of the sofa and +thought. + +Mr. Janney could not have dropped it for he had driven both to and from +Council Oaks. Neither Dixon nor Isaac could have, for they had gone to +the village by the main road and come back the same way at midnight. He +had found it at half-past ten, untouched by the heavy shower, which had +lasted from about seven till half-past eight. Therefore, whoever had +thrown it there had passed that way between the time when the rain +stopped and the time when Esther had found it. It had been dropped +either by a man who had one of the cigars in his possession and had been +on the wood path between eight-thirty and ten-thirty, or by a man who +had taken a cigar from the safe between those hours. + +Ferguson sat staring at the wall with his brows knit. If it had not been +for the light his own gardener had seen he would have felt that he had +struck the right road. + + + + +CHAPTER XII—THE MAN WHO WOULDN'T TELL +===================================== + +Mr. Larkin had lingered on at Cedar Brook. He said that he needed a +holiday, the prosperity of the last year had worn him out, also the +bungalow sites were many and a decision difficult. + +He saw a good deal of Willitts; they had become very friendly, almost +chums. Their lodgings were but a few yards apart and of evenings they +smoked neighborly pipes on the porch steps, and of afternoons took walks +into the country. During these hours their talk ranged over many +subjects, the valet proving himself a brightly loquacious companion. But +upon a subject that Mr. Larkin introduced with delicate +artfulness—Price and Esther Maitland—he maintained the evasive +reticence that had marked him at their first meeting. For all the walks +and talks Mr. Larkin learned no more, and as his curiosity remained +unsatisfied his inclination for Willitts' society increased. + +It was a few days after that first meeting that, strolling down Main +Street toward Sommers' garage, the detective stopped short, staring at +two figures emerging from the garage entrance. One was Sommers, the +other a fat, red-faced man with a sunburned Panama on the back of his +head. A glance at this man and Mr. Larkin turned on his heel and made +down a side lane at a swinging gait. Safe out of range behind a lilac +hedge, he slowed up, lifted his hat from a perspiring brow and swore to +himself, low and fiercely. He had recognized Gus O'Malley, private +detective of Whitney & Whitney, and he knew that Whitney & Whitney were +Mrs. Janney's lawyers. Another investigation was on foot, evidently +following on the lines of his own. + +After two days O'Malley left by the evening train and Mr. Larkin emerged +from a temporary retirement, and sought coolness and solitude on the +front porch. Here, when night had fallen, Willitts joined him taking a +seat on the top step. + +The house behind them was empty of all other tenants, its open front +door letting a long gush of light down the steps and across the pebbled +path to the gate. It was a warm night, heavy and breathless, and Mr. +Larkin, in his shirt sleeves, lolled comfortably, his chair tilted back, +his feet on the railing. The place where he sat was shaded with vines, +and he was discernible as a long, out-stretched bulk, detailless in the +shadow. + +Willitts had good news to impart; that afternoon he had been to Council +Oaks to see Mr. Ferguson who had engaged him as valet. It was an A1 +place, the pay high, the duties light, Mr. Ferguson known to be generous +and easy tempered. Congratulations were in order from Mr. Larkin, and if +they lacked in warmth Willitts did not appear to notice it. + +A pause fell, and his next remark caused the detective to deflect his +gaze from the darkling street to the head of the steps: + +"Did you notice a chap about here yesterday—a fat, untidy looking man +in a Panama hat and a brown sack suit?" + +Mr. Larkin had and wanted to know where Willitts had seen him. + +"In Sommers' garage. He was hiring a motor, wanted to see the +country—and Sommers telling him I knew it well, asked me to go with +him." + +"Did you go?" + +"I did; I had nothing else to do. We went a long way, through Berkeley +and beyond. He's what you'd call here 'some talker' and curious—I'd say +very curious if you asked me." + +"Curious about what?" + +"Everything in the neighborhood, but especially the robbery." + +"Did he have any theories about it?" + +"None that I hadn't heard before." + +The detective laughed: + +"That accounts for the drive—hoped he'd get some racy gossip about the +family out of you." + +"Maybe that *was* his idea." + +"Of course it was. I'll bet he pumped you about Price." + +"I don't know that I'd call it pumping—he did ask some questions." + +Willitts was sitting with his elbows on his knees, his hands supporting +his chin. The light from the open door behind him lay over his back, +gilded the top of his smooth head and slanted across his cheek. He was +not smoking and he was very still, facts noted by Mr. Larkin. + +The detective stretched, yawned with a sleepy sound and said: + +"So it's still a subject of popular curiosity, is it?" + +"Yes, *it* is, but why should Mr. Price be?" + +The valet's voice was low and quiet, holding a quality hard to define; +the listener decided it was less uneasiness than resentment. After a +moment's silence he spoke again, very softly, as if the words were +self-communings: + +"I'd like to know who the feller is." + +Mr. Larkin's feet came down from the rail striking the floor with a +thud. He sat up and looked at his friend: + +"I can tell you. He's a detective, Gus O'Malley, employed by Whitney & +Whitney." + +Willitts' hands dropped and he squared round: + +"A detective! *That's* it, is it? *That* accounts for the milk in the +cocoanut. I might have guessed it. And what's he after me for?" + +"You lived at Grasslands. Something might be dug out of you." + +"But tell me, why should he be curious about Mr. Price?" + +He had dropped one hand on the flooring and supported by it leaned +forward toward his companion. The boyish good humor had gone from his +face; it looked sharp-set and pugnacious. + +The other shrugged: + +"Ask *him*. All I can tell you is that Whitney & Whitney are Mrs. +Janney's lawyers." + +Willitts pondered, and while he pondered his eyes stared past the +shadowy shape that was Mr. Larkin into the vine-draped blackness of the +porch. Then he said: + +"Mrs. Janney's down on Mr. Price. She's all for her daughter. I think +she 'ates 'im." + +The two h's dropped off with a simple unconsciousness that surprised Mr. +Larkin. Never before in his intercourse with Willitts had he heard the +letter so much as slighted. He made a mental note of it and said dryly: + +"So I've heard." + +The man again relapsed into thought, his glance riveted on the darkness, +his expression obviously perturbed. Suddenly he looked at the vague bulk +of Mr. Larkin and said sharply: + +"'Ow do *you* know so much about 'im?" + +Mr. Larkin's answer came out of the shadow with businesslike promptness: + +"Because I'm a detective myself." + +For a moment the valet's face seemed to set, lose its flesh and blood +mobility and harden into something stony, its lines fixed, vitality +suspended,—a vacuous, staring mask. Then life came back to it, broke +its iciness, and flooded it with a frank, almost ludicrous astonishment. + +"You—you!" he stammered out, "and me never so much as thinking it! +Would any one, I'm asking you? Would—" he stopped, his amazement gone, +a sudden belligerent fierceness taking its place, "And are you after Mr. +Price too?" + +Mr. Larkin laughed: + +"I'm after no one at this stage. I'm only assembling data. If O'Malley's +got to the point of finding a suspect he's far ahead of me." + +Willitts' excitement instantly subsided; his answer showed a hurried +urgence: + +"No, no—he didn't say anything one could take 'old of—only a few +questions. And it's maybe all in my feelings. I couldn't bear a person +to think evil of Mr. Price. It 'urts me; I'd be sensitive; I might see +it if it wasn't there." + +"If you got that impression I guess it *was* there." + +This remark, delivered with a sardonic dryness, appeared to rekindle +Willitts' anger. It flared up like the leap of a flame: + +"Then to 'ell with 'im. If they're working up any dirty suspicions +against my gentleman they've come to the wrong man. I've got nothing to +say; there's no information to be wormed out of *me* for I 'ave none. +Umph—lies, trickery—that's what *I* call it!" + +He dropped back into his former position, his angry breathings loud on +the silence, mutterings of rage breaking through them. + +"Well," said Mr. Larkin, "now I've put you wise you can form your own +conclusion as to what's in their minds." + +"Is it in yours, too?" + +The question came quick, shot out between the deep-drawn breaths. Mr. +Larkin was ready for it: + +"I told you I hadn't got as far as that; I'm just feeling my way. But +let me say something to you." He rose and, going to the steps, sat down +beside Willitts, dropping his voice to a confidential key. "I'll be +frank with you—I'll show you how I stand. I didn't intend to tell you +what I was, but this fellow coming up here has forced my hand. He knows +me, he'll be after you again, and you'd have found it out. Now, here's +my position: I want to get this case; it's my first big one and it'll +make me every way—professionally and financially." + +He looked at the man beside him who, gazing into the street, nodded +without speaking. + +"There's ten thousand dollars offered for the restoration of the jewels. +If I could get them I'd share that money with the person +who—who—er—helped." + +Willitts repeated his silent nod. + +"And even if I didn't get them I'd pay and pay well for any information +that would be useful." + +"I see," said the other, "'oever 'elps along in the good work gets 'is +reward." + +Mr. Larkin did not like the words or the tone, but went on, his +confidential manner growing persuasive: + +"I'm engaged on the side of law and order. All I'm trying to do is to +restore stolen property to its owner. Any one that helps me is only +doing his duty." + +"A duty that gets its dues, as you might say." + +"Exactly. The money made by such services is earned honestly and there's +plenty of it to earn." + +"Righto! When the Janneys want a thing they'll open the purse wide and +generous." + +"And here's a point worth noticing: What I'm hired for is to get the +jewels, not the thief. The party behind me isn't out for vengeance or +prosecution. If I could deliver the goods it would be all right and no +questions asked. But the Whitneys wouldn't stop there—they're +bloodhounds when it comes to the chase. If they got anything on Price +they'd come down on him good and hard and Mrs. Janney'd stand in with +them." + +He was looking with anxious intentness at Willitts' profile. As he +finished it turned slowly, until the face was offered in full to his +watchful scrutiny. It was forbidding, the eyes sweeping him with a cold +contempt: + +"I can't 'elp understanding you, Larkin, and I'm sorry to 'ear you got +your suspicions of my gentleman and of *me*. The first is too low to +take notice of; the second is as bad, but I'll answer it to put us both +straight. I'm not the kind you take me for; I'm not to be bought. Even +if I did know anything that would be 'useful' as you say, wild 'orses +wouldn't drag it out of me. And no more will filthy lucre. Filthy—it's +the right name for it, you couldn't get a better." He rose, not so much +angry as hurt and haughty. "I can't find it in me to sit 'ere any +longer. I could talk of insults, but I won't. All I'll say is that I've +'ad a bit too much, and not wanting to 'ear more I'll bid you +good-night." + +Before the detective could find words to answer he had gone down the +path and vanished in the darkness. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII—MOLLY'S STORY +========================== + +One of the chief features of detective work is that you must be able to +change your mind. That may not sound hard—especially when the owner of +the mind happens to be a female—but believe me it's some stunt. You get +pointed one way, and to have to shift and face round in another is candy +for a weather vane but bread for a sleuth. + +Well, that's what happened to me. In the week that followed my visit to +the Whitneys I had to start out fresh on a new line of thought. I'd left +the office pretty certain, as the others were, that the bond between +Esther Maitland and Chapman Price was love, and before those seven days +were gone I'd thrown that theory into the discard, rolled up my sleeves, +taken a cinch in my belt, and set forth to blaze a new trail. + +I came round to it slow at first and I came round through Mr. Ferguson. +It was fine weather and when Bébita would go off with Annie, I'd curl up +in my conning tower in the school room window and take observations. As +I said before, it was a convenient place, just over Miss Maitland's +study, deserted all afternoon, and with the Venetian blinds down against +the sun, I could sit comfortable on my cushion and spy out between the +slats. + +The first thing that caught my attention was that Mr. Ferguson, who'd +come over pretty nearly every day, wouldn't make straight for the front +piazza which was the natural way to get there. Instead he'd take a +slanting course across the garden, come up some steps to the terrace, +and then walk slow past the study door. Sometimes he'd see Miss Maitland +and stop for a chat, and sometimes she wouldn't be there and he'd go by. +But each and every time, thinking no one was watching, he'd let a look +come on his face that's common to the whole male sex when the one +particular star is expected above the horizon. I guess the cave man got +it when, club in hand, he was chasing the cave girl and Solomon with his +six hundred wives must have had it stamped on his features so it came to +be his habitual expression. + +Though it was registered good and plain on Mr. Ferguson's countenance, I +couldn't at first believe it. It was too like a novel, too like +Cinderella and the Prince. Then, seeing it so frequent, I was convinced. +I'd say to myself "Why not—a girl's a girl if she is a plutocrat's +social secretary, and all men are free and equal when it comes to +disposing of their young affections." The romance of it got me, gripped +at my heart. I'd sit with my eye to the crack in the blinds staring down +at him as he'd send that look out for her—that wonderful look, that +look which gives you chills and fever, blind staggers and heart failure +and you'd rather have than a blank check drawn to your order and signed +by John Rockefeller. Oh, gee—I was a girl once myself—don't I know! +I'd have been interested if it was just an ordinary love story, but it +wasn't. It was a love story with a mystery for good measure; it was a +love story that had Mrs. Price thrown in to complicate the plot; it was +a love story that was all tangled up with other elements; and it was a +love story that I only could see one side of. + +For I couldn't get at her feelings at all. This was mostly because I +hardly ever saw her with him. If she did happen to be there when he +passed, she'd be either in her room or under the balcony roof and I +couldn't see how she acted or hear what she said. Also she had such a +hold on herself, had such a calm, reserved way with her, that you'd have +to be a clairvoyant to get under her guard. + +Any woman would have been thrilled but *me*, knowing what I did—can't +you see my thoughts going round in wheels and whirligigs? If she +reciprocated—and there's few that wouldn't or I don't know my own +sex—what was she doing with Price? Was she a siren playing the two of +them? Was she Mrs. Price's secret rival with both men? Was she the kind +of vampire heroine they have in plays who can break up a burglar-proof +home with one hand tied behind her? You wouldn't think it to look at +her—but the more I hit the high spots of society the more I feel you +can't tell people by the ordinary trade-marks. + +Then one afternoon toward the end of the week I saw a little scene right +under my window that lightened up the darkness. It gave me what I call +facts; what the Whitneys, anyway Mr. George—but that belongs farther +on. + +Mr. Ferguson came out of the wood path, across the garden and on his +usual beat, up the terrace steps. He had a spray of lemon verbena in his +hand and as he walked over the grass with his long, light stride, he +kept his eyes on the balcony keen and expectant, his face all eager and +serious. Suddenly it changed, brightened, softened, glowed like the +sunlight had fallen on it—you didn't need to be a detective to know +she'd come out of the study. + +This time she came down the steps and went toward him. They met under my +window and stood there, he facing me, brushing his lips with the spray +of lemon verbena and looking down at her, a lover if ever I saw one. He +asked her what she was doing that afternoon, and she said going for a +walk, and when he wanted to know where, she said through the woods to +the beach. "A solitary walk?" he asked and she said yes, her walks were +always solitary. + +"By preference?" + +She turned half away from him and I could see her profile. I'd hardly +have known it for Miss Maitland's, soft, shy, the cheek pink. Her eyes +were on the toe of her shoe, white against the green grass, and with her +head drooping she was like a girl, bashful and blushing before her beau. + +"It generally is by preference," she said. + +"Would it exclude me," he asked, "if I tried to butt in?" + +She didn't answer for a moment, then said very low: + +"Not if you really wanted to come—didn't do it just to be kind to a +lonesome lady." + +"Lonesome lady be hanged," he exclaimed as joyful as if she'd given him +a kiss, "it's just the other way round—kindness to a lonesome +gentleman. I'm terribly lonesome this afternoon." + +But he wasn't going to be long—far from it. Round the corner of the +house, walking soft as a cat, came Mrs. Price. She made me think of a +cat every way, stepping so stealthy, her body so slim and lithe, a +small, secret smile on her face as if she'd come on two nice little +helpless mice. She was all in white, shining and spotless, a tennis +racket in one hand, a bunch of letters in the other. They didn't see +her and she got quite close, then said, sweet and smooth as treacle: + +"Good afternoon, Dick." + +They weren't doing anything but planning a walk, but they both started +like it had been a murder. + +"Oh," says Mr. Ferguson, looking blankly disconcerted, "oh, Suzanne, I +didn't see you. How do you do—good afternoon." + +She came to a halt and stood softly swinging her racket, looking at him +with that mean, cold smile. + +"I was in my room and saw you so I came down at once. It's a splendid +afternoon for our game, not a breath of wind." + +I saw, and she saw, and I guess any but a blind man could have seen, +he'd a date to play tennis with her and had forgotten it. Of course a +woman would have scrambled out, had *something* to offer that made a +noise like an excuse; but that poor prune of a man—they're all alike +when a quick lie's needed—couldn't think of a thing to say. He just +stood between them, looking haunted and stammering out such gems of +thought as, "Our game—of course our game—I hadn't noticed it but there +*is* no wind." + +She had him; he couldn't throw her down after he'd made the engagement, +and with her there he couldn't say what he wanted to Esther Maitland. +And neither of them helped him; Mrs. Price listened to his flounderings +with the little smile, light and cool on her painted lips, and Miss +Maitland stood by, not a word out of her. I noticed that Mrs. Price +never looked at her, acted as if she wasn't there, and presently +Ferguson, getting desperate, turns to her and says: + +"How about taking our walk later—after Mrs. Price and I have finished +our game?" + +The girl got red, burning; she started to answer, but Mrs. Price cut in, +for the first time addressing her: + +"Oh, Miss Maitland, that reminds me—I want these letters answered, if +you'll be so kind. Just follow the notes on the edges, and please do it +as soon as possible—they're rather important. They must go out on the +evening mail." + +She handed the letters to the girl and Esther Maitland took them with a +murmur. I know that kind of answer—it's the agreeing response of the +wage-earner. It comes soft and polite—it has to—but like the pleasant +rippling of the ocean on the beach it's not the only sound that element +can give forth. + +Ferguson tried to say something; he was mad and mortified and everything +else he ought to have been, but she wouldn't give him a chance. + +"Come along, Dick," she says, bright and easy, "you've kept me waiting +which is very rude, but I'm in a good humor and I'll forgive you. +There's a racket at the court—we were playing there this morning. You +can walk with Miss Maitland some other day. I'm afraid she'll have to +attend to *my* work this afternoon." + +He got balky, lingered, looked at Miss Maitland, but she turned sharply +away and moved toward the balcony. So there was nothing for him to do +but to go off with his captor. I couldn't but look after them, both in +beautiful white clothes, both rich, both young, he so tall, she so slim, +for all the world like a picture of lovers on the cover of a magazine. +Then I switched back to Miss Maitland. She's come to a halt, right below +the window, and, standing there like a graven image, was watching them. + +I never saw any one so still. You wouldn't have known she was alive +except for her eyes which moved after them, moved and moved, until the +pair disappeared behind the rose-covered trellis that hid the courts. +Then she let out a sound, a smothered ejaculation that you couldn't +spell with letters; but you didn't need to, it said more than printed +pages. Rage was in it and pain and love. They were in her face, too, +stamped and cut into it. I wouldn't have known it for hers, it was all +marred and tragic, a pitiful, dreadful face. + +She looked blankly at the letters in her hand, at first as if she didn't +know what they were, then crumpled them, threw them on the ground and +made a run for the balcony. She was almost there, I craning my neck to +keep her in sight, when she stopped, wheeled around, went back to the +scattered papers and picked them up. "Oh, bread and butter," I thought, +"bread and butter! Aren't you cursing it now?" Bad as I believed her to +be I couldn't but be sorry for her, for I've been in that position +myself. Take it from me, licking the hand that feeds you is a job that +comes hard to the worst of us. + +She pressed out the letters, smoothed away the creases slow and careful +and came back to the balcony. Just before she disappeared under it she +stopped and lifted her face, the eyes closed, the teeth pressed on her +under lip. It quivered like a child's on the brink of tears, but she +wasn't crying—fighting, I'd say, against something deeper than tears. I +couldn't bear to look at it and shut my own eyes; when I opened them she +was gone. + +You didn't need to tell me any more after that. She was in love with +Ferguson, not Price; she was in love and straining every nerve to hide +it; she was in love so she was jealous of Mrs. Price—and I'd bet a hat +she was the kind who could love fierce and hard. + +I had to get this into the office and the next day asked for time off +from Mrs. Janney and went in. I found them different to what they had +been on my first visit, taking it serious like they were warming to it. +I'd hardly sat down before I heard the reason. O'Malley had been busy +and turned up enough evidence to make them sure that Chapman Price and +Miss Maitland were in deep in some sort of plot or conspiracy. + +O'Malley's investigation of Price's movements on the night of July the +seventh had revealed these facts: Price had taken his car from Sommers' +garage at Cedar Brook at eight-thirty, not returning till five minutes +before two. To one of the garage men he had said that the night being so +fine he had gone for a long run over the island. No trace of his +whereabouts during these hours had been found until O'Malley dropped on +a policeman at the end of the Queensborough Bridge. This man said Price +had crossed over to the city between nine-thirty and ten. He was +positive of his identification, as early in June he had stopped the +young man for exceeding the speed limit on the bridge, taken his name +and address and had a heated altercation with him. From that time to his +return to Cedar Brook Price had dropped out of sight. He had not been in +the lodgings he kept in town or in any of the garages he patronized. +Whatever his business had been in the city he had had plenty of time to +return to Grasslands and participate in the theft of the jewels. + +A continued watch of the house at 76 Gayle Street had shown that both +Miss Maitland and Price had been there on the Thursday previous and +Price on Sunday afternoon. Each had entered with noiseless haste and +each had used a latchkey. O'Malley in a search for a room had +interviewed the janitor, a grouchy old chap living in the basement; and +got a line on all the tenants, none of whom answered to the description +of Price or Miss Maitland. Of their visits to the house the man was +evidently ignorant, but he supplied some information which showed how +they could come and go without his cognizance. + +On July the eighth a lady, giving no name, had taken the right hand +front room on the top floor for a friend, Miss Agnes Brown, an art +student coming from the west but not yet arrived in the city. The lady +paid a month's rent in advance, took the key, and said when Miss Brown +arrived, the janitor would be informed, but that she might be delayed +through illness in her family. This lady, as described by the janitor, +was beyond a doubt Esther Maitland. + +O'Malley was positive that the man honestly believed the room unused and +awaiting its occupant. He had seen no signs of habitation, heard no +sound from behind its closed door. Cooking was permitted in the house +and it was part of his business to sweep down the halls every morning +and empty the pails containing the food refuse which were placed outside +the doors. He had seen no pail, no milk bottles, and never at night, +when he went up to light the hall gas, had there been a gleam from the +transom of Miss Brown's apartment. + +The room had been engaged by Esther Maitland the day after the robbery, +had been secured for a tenant who had not materialized. She had taken +the key herself and had visited the place, as Chapman Price had done. +Both had made their exits and entrances so carefully that the janitor +had no idea any one had ever been inside the door since the day it was +rented. + +After I'd heard all this I opened up with what I'd collected. The Chief +didn't say much, which is his way when you come in with a new "twist," +but Mr. George wouldn't have it, got quite peevish and said my +imagination had run away with me. + +"Do you think a girl in love with another man would have embroiled +herself with Price the way she has?" he snapped out. + +"I don't know, Mr. George. I'm not ready to say yet what she's done or +hasn't done. No one can deny that things are dead against her. All I'm +sure of now is that she is in love with Mr. Ferguson and, that being the +case, I don't think she's the kind, guilty or innocent, who'd take up +with another man." + +"But you can't base a conviction on a moment's pantomime such as you +overlooked. The girl was probably angry at Mrs. Price's manner. It can +be a deuced disagreeable manner; I've seen it." + +"She didn't act like that—it wasn't only anger—it was all sorts of +feelings." + +He couldn't see it any way but his own and hammered at me. + +"But the whole structure's built on the assumption of an affair between +her and Price. Do you think she'd steal for him, lie for him, hire a +room to meet him in, unless she was so crazy about him she was clay in +his hands?" + +"Mr. George," I said, dropping back in my chair sort of helpless but +still as obstinate as a government mule, "every word you say sounds like +sense and I'm not saying it isn't. But while I'm not passing any +criticisms on you, in this kind of question, I'd back my own judgment +against any man's that ever lived since Adam tried to throw the blame on +Eve." + +The Chief laughed like he was amused at the scrapping of two kids. + +"That's right, Molly," he says, "don't let him brow-beat you, stick to +your own opinion." + +"Well, what do *you* think?" Mr. George turned to him all red and +ruffled up. "Isn't she building up theories on the flimsiest kind of +foundation?" + +The Chief wouldn't give him any satisfaction. + +"I'll take a leaf out of her book," he said, "not pass any criticisms. +And I think we're going on too fast. I expect to have Chapman here +himself in a day or two and ask some questions about that long ride on +the night of July the seventh. After that we'll be on a firmer +footing—or we ought to be. Meantime, Molly, you go back to Grasslands. +Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut and if anything turns up let me +know." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV—A CHAPTER ABOUT BAD TEMPERS +======================================= + +Things were not going Mr. Larkin's way. What had begun with such bright +promise was declining to a twilight uncertainty. The morning after his +ignominious failure with Willitts he had a letter from Suzanne, +forwarded from his New York office, telling him that she would be in +town on the following Monday and would like to see him. The letter +disturbed him greatly. It was not alone that he had nothing to report; +it was that the tone of the missive was irritated and impatient. It was +the angrily imperious summons of a lady who is disappointed in her +hireling. + +He packed up his things and left Cedar Brook—the collapse of his +endeavor there was complete—and at the hour appointed found Suzanne +waiting in the shaded reception room. Her words and manner showed him +how disagreeable a fine lady can be; they gave him a cold premonition +that his fat salary would end unless something distinct and definite was +soon forthcoming. In fact she hinted it; his assurances that +interesting developments were pending, that this sort of work was +necessarily slow, kindled no responsive enthusiasm in the crossly +accusing eye she fastened on him. His manner became almost pleading; he +was on the edge of discoveries, unquestionably he would have something +to tell her by the end of the week. At that she hung dubious, the angry +eye less disconcerting, and said she would be in town on Friday as she +was going to take her little girl to the oculist. + +Mr. Larkin hailed the announcement with a sleuth-like eagerness, but, as +if anxious to quench any little flicker of his spirit, she added +blightingly that she didn't think it would be possible to see him as the +child would be with her. He grappled with the difficulty, displaying +both patience and resourcefulness, for Mrs. Price, in a bad temper, had +a talent for creating obstacles. + +Why, he suggested, couldn't the little girl go to the oculist with her +nurse or companion and Mrs. Price be left, so to speak, free to roam? +Mrs. Price's answer snapped with an angry click—that was of course what +she would do—she always did. *But*, Mr. Larkin did not suppose she took +the exhausting trip from Berkeley for nothing, did he? She had matters +to attend to herself, shops to go to, people to see; when they came into +town they were swamped, simply *swamped*, by what they had to do. She +depicted with a lively irritation their harried progress, the party +split into halves, one in a hired vehicle, one in the family motor, +passing through the marts of trade in a stampede of breathless shopping. +She rubbed it in, seemed to be intimating that he was attempting to +frustrate an overtaxed and weary woman in the accomplishment of gigantic +tasks. + +Mr. Larkin met the difficulties and kept his patience. It took a good +deal to finally reach a settlement which was obvious from the start. The +child and her companion could go on their errands and Suzanne could go +on hers, but be back before them. He could meet her at the house at any +hour she named and would leave before the return of the other half of +the party. He forced her to an admission that the plan was feasible, +though she gave it grudgingly, her manner still suggesting that if he +had conducted himself as a detective worthy of his hire she would not +have been put to so much trouble. She arranged to be at the house at +twelve which she calculated might give her half an hour alone with him. +Should there be any change of plans she would let him know, and she +*hoped*, with an accentuated glance, he would have something +satisfactory to tell her. + +His good temper unshaken, Mr. Larkin assured her he would and rose to +go. On the doorstep he mopped his forehead though the day was not warm, +also he swore softly as he descended the steps. + +A day or two after this, Chapman Price went to the Whitney office. He +had received a communication from them asking for an interview, the +ostensible subject of debate being Suzanne's divorce. The suit would be +conducted at Reno where Mrs. Price would go in the autumn, but the +Whitneys, as the Janney lawyers, wanted to talk the matter over with Mr. +Price for the arranging of various financial details. + +These were quickly opened up for his attention by Wilbur Whitney, who, +with George, saw the young man in his private office. The ground of +divorce—non-support—was touched on with a tactful lightness. Mrs. +Price would of course ask for no alimony and so forth and so on. From +that the elder Whitney passed to the subject of the child; it was the +desire of its mother and grandparents that Chapman should relinquish all +claim on it. The young man listened, gloomy and scowling, now and then +muttering in angry repudiation. But the diplomatic arguments of the +lawyer bore down his opposition; he had to give in. The child ought to +remain with its mother, the natural guardian of its tender years; left +entirely to the Janneys it would be the eventual heiress of their great +wealth, but if Chapman antagonized them by a fight for its possession +its prospects might suffer. It was a persuasive appeal, made to +Chapman's parental affections, the welfare of his daughter before his +own. It brought him to a sullen consent, and Wilbur Whitney, with a +sound of approval, pushed back his chair, elated as by a good work done. + +Price rose, his face flushed and frowning. That he was resentful was +plain to be seen, but he had himself in hand, inquiring with a sardonic +politeness if that was all they wanted of him. The elder Whitney with a +hospitable gesture toward the empty chair, said no, there were some +questions he'd like to ask, nothing of any especial moment and on an +entirely different matter. + +"Mrs. Janney," he explained, "has suggested that we make a separate, +private investigation of the robbery. She's lost faith in Kissam, who +hasn't done anything but draw his pay envelope and wants us to see what +we can do. So we've been clearing up a lot of dead wood, looking into +the movements of the people in the house and the neighborhood that +night." + +Price, who had remained standing, turned his eyes on the speaker in a +gaze that had a quality of sudden fixed attention. + +"Oh," he said, in a tone containing a note of hostile comprehension, "so +*you're* in it, are you?" + +"Yes; we're in it—only a little way so far. We've been rounding up +every one that has, or has had, any dealings with the family and we've +taken you in in the sweep." + +"*Me?*" Price's voice showed an intense surprise. "What have I got to do +with it?" + +"Nothing, my dear boy, except that you *were* a member of the household, +and as I said, we're clearing up every one in sight. It's only a +formality, a tagging and disposing of all unnecessary elements. You went +for a motor ride that night—a long ride. You wouldn't mind telling us +where, would you? It's just for the purpose of eliminating you along +with the rest of the dead wood." + +The young man's gaze dropped from Whitney's face to his own hat lying on +the table. He looked at it with an absent stare. + +"A motor ride?" he murmured. + +"Yes, from eight-thirty till nearly two." + +"Um," Price appeared to be considering. "Let me see—what was the date, +I don't remember?" + +George assisted his memory: + +"July the seventh—a moonlight night." + +"Ah," he had it now, nodding his head several times in restored +recollection. "Of course, I remember perfectly. There was a heavy rain +early in the evening and then a full moon." He turned to the elder man. +"I'm rather fond of ranging about at night, and couldn't quite place +what especial ride you referred to. I took a long spin up the Island." + +"Up?" said Whitney, "not being a Long Islander I don't know your +directions. Would 'up' mean toward the city?" + +"No, the other way, out along the Sound roads and on toward Peconic." + +"Kept to the country, eh? Too fine a night to waste in town." + +Price's face darkened. George watching him noticed a slight dilation of +his nostrils, a slight squaring of the line of his jaw. His answer came +in a tone hard and combative: + +"Exactly. I get enough of town in the day. I rode, as I told you, out to +the east, a long way—I can't give you the exact route if that's what +you want." He suddenly leaned forward and snatched his hat from the +table. Holding it against his side he made an ironical bow to his +questioner said, "Does *that* eliminate me as a suspect?" + +Whitney laughed, a sound of lazy good humor rich with the tolerance of a +vast experience: + +"My dear Chapman, why use such sensational terms? Suspect is a word we +haven't reached yet. Take this as it's meant—a form, merely a form." + +"The form might have included a questioning of me before you took the +trouble to look up what I did. Evidently my word wasn't thought +sufficient." + +His glance, darkly threatening, moved from one man to the other. George +started to protest, but he cut in, his words directed at old Whitney: + +"It's all I have to offer you now. It's what I say against what you've +been told to believe. I can prove no alibi, for I was with no one, saw +no one, started alone and stayed alone. That's all you'll get out of me, +and you can take it or leave it as you d——n please." + +He turned and walked toward the door, the elder Whitney's conciliatory +phrases delivered to his back. The door knob in his hand he wheeled +round, the anger he had been struggling to subdue fierce in his face: + +"Don't think for a moment you've fooled me. I was ignorant when I came +in here, but I'm on to the whole dirty business now. I see through this +pussy-footing round the divorce. It's the Janneys—the blow in the back +I might have known was coming. They've got my child, set you on to +wheedle her out of me. But that wasn't enough—they're going to try and +finish the good work—put me out of business so there's no more trouble +coming from me. Brand me as a thief—that's their game, is it? +Well—they've gone too far. I've held my hand up to this but now I'll +let loose. They'll see! By God, they'll see that I can hit back blow for +blow." + + + + +CHAPTER XV—WHAT HAPPENED ON FRIDAY +================================== + +The Friday morning when Suzanne was to go to town broke auspiciously +bright and cloudless. As Annie was not the proper person to take Bébita +to the oculist, and as Suzanne would be too busy to go herself, Miss +Maitland had been impressed into the service. It had been decided two +days earlier, and though she had received some instructions at the time, +on the drive in, Mrs. Price went over her plans with a meticulous +thoroughness. They would go first to the Fifth Avenue house, pick up +there some clothes of Bébita's needing alteration, and then separate. +Esther would take a cab from the rank on the side street, and go with +Bébita to the oculist, to the dressmaker with the clothes, and execute +several minor commissions in shops along the Avenue. Bébita begged for a +box of caramels from Justin's, the French confectioner, a request which +was graciously acceded to by her mother, Miss Maitland jotting it down +on her list. Mrs. Price would take the motor and go about her own +affairs, which would occupy probably an hour. She would then return to +the house and wait for them—for she would have finished before they +did—and afterward they would go out to lunch somewhere. She said she +thought it would be fully an hour and a half before they got back and +Miss Maitland, eyeing the long list, said it might be even longer. + +Aggie McGee had the clothes tied up in a box and Suzanne and Bébita +stood on the steps waiting while Miss Maitland went for the cab. The +rank was just round the corner and in a few minutes she came back with a +taxi running along the curb behind her. + +"Quite a piece of luck to find one," she said, as she took the box. +"They're not always there in the dead season." + +Bébita jumped in, settling herself with joyful prancings and waving a +little white-gloved hand. Esther followed, snapped the door shut, and +they glided away. Suzanne watched them go, then stepped into the big +motor and was swept off in the opposite direction. + +She came back before the hour was up. She had hurried as she wanted to +have done with Larkin before they returned. It would be extremely +uncomfortable if they found her in confab with the detective; it would +necessitate boring explanations and the inventing of lies. + +She sat down in the reception room close to the window, pulled up the +blind and waited. Drawn back from the eyes of passers-by she could +command the sidewalk and the street for some distance and if, by any +evil chance, Larkin should be late, she could see him coming and tell +Aggie McGee to say she was not there. + +Up to now Larkin had been punctual to the dot, but on this, the one +occasion when punctuality was vital, he was not on time. Twelve passed, +then the quarter, and the sun-swept length of the great avenue gave up +no masculine figure that bore any resemblance to him. She was growing +nervous, wondering what she had better do, when he hove in sight walking +quickly toward the house. A glance at her wrist watch told her it was +twenty minutes past twelve—Miss Maitland and Bébita might not be back +for another half hour yet. She would chance it, for she was extremely +anxious to see him, and anyway, if they should come in before he left, +she could tell him to go into the drawing room and slip out after they +had gone. Relieved by the decision she rose and was turning toward the +mirror, when she caught sight of a taxi scudding up the street with +Esther Maitland's face in the window. + +A word not generally used by ladies escaped Suzanne. There was nothing +for it but to send him away. She ran into the hall and pressed the bell, +listening in a fever for Aggie McGee's step on the kitchen stairs. +Simultaneously with its first heavy thud came the peal of the front door +bell. Suzanne, who had noticed that the taxi was moving fast and would +make the steps before Larkin, called down on Aggie McGee's ascending +head: + +"That's Miss Maitland. A gentleman I expected is just behind her. I +can't see him now, I haven't time. Tell him I've been here and gone." + +She went back into the reception room and stood listening. She heard the +door opening, Esther's step in the hall; it was all right, the detective +would get his congé without being seen by any one but Aggie McGee. She +drew a breath of relief and turned smiling to the girl in the doorway. +Miss Maitland did not give back the smile; she sent a searching look +over the room and said in a low, breathless voice as if she had been +running: + +"Is Bébita here?" + +There was a moment of silence. Through it the heavy tread of Aggie McGee +passing along the hall sounded unnaturally loud. As it went clump, +clump, down the kitchen stairs Suzanne was aware of Miss Maitland's +face, startlingly strange, ashen-colored. At first it was all she took +in. + +"Bébita—here?" she stammered. "How could she be? She's with you." + +Miss Maitland made a step into the room, her hands went up clenched to +her chest, her voice came again through the broken gasps of a runner: + +"No—she isn't. I thought I'd find her with you—I thought she'd come +back. Oh, Mrs. Price—" she stopped, her eyes, telling a message of +disaster, fixed on the other. + +Suzanne's answer came from opened lips, dropped apart in a sudden +horror: + +"What do you mean? Why should she be here?" + +"Mrs. Price, something's happened!" + +Suzanne screamed out: + +"Where is she?" + +"I don't know—but—but—I haven't got her—she's gone. Mrs. Price—" + +Suzanne screamed again, putting her hands against the sides of her head, +her face, between them, a livid mask. + +"Gone—gone where? Is she dead?" + +The girl shook her head, swallowing on a throat dried to a leathern +stiffness: + +"No—no—nothing like that. But—the taxi—it went, disappeared while I +was in Justin's. I was in there buying the candy and when I came out it +was gone. I looked everywhere; I couldn't believe it; I thought she'd +come back here—run away from me for a joke." + +Suzanne, holding the sides of her head, stared like a mad woman, then +gave a piercing cry, thin and high, a wild, dolorous sound. Only the +solidity of the house prevented it from penetrating to the lower regions +where Aggie McGee and her aunt were comfortably lunching. + +"Listen, Mrs. Price." Esther took her hands and drew them down. "The +driver may have made a mistake, taken her somewhere else—he couldn't—" + +Suzanne shrieked in sudden frenzy: + +"She's been stolen—my baby's been stolen!" + +For a second they looked at one another, each pallid face confessing its +conviction of the grisly thought. Esther tried to speak, the sentences +dropping disconnected: + +"If it's that then—then—it's some one who knows you're rich—some +one—they'll want money. They'll give her up for money—Oh, Mrs. Price, +I looked—I hunted—" + +Suzanne's voice came in a suddenly strangled whisper: + +"It's you—It's your fault! You've let them steal my baby. You've done +it! You'll be put in jail." + +With the words issuing from her mouth she staggered and crumpled into a +limpness of fiberless flesh and trailing garments. Esther put an arm +about her and drew her to the sofa. Here she collapsed amid the +cushions, her eyes open, moans coming from her shaking lips. Esther +knelt beside her: + +"Mrs. Price, it's horrible, but try to keep up, don't break down this +way. No one would dare to do anything to her. If she's been stolen it's +to the interest of the person who did it to keep her safe. We'll find +her in a day or two. Your mother, her position, her power—she'll do +something, she'll get her back." + +Suzanne rolling her head on the cushion, groaned: + +"Oh, my baby! Oh, Bébita!" Then burst into wild tears and disjointed +sentences. She was almost unintelligible, cries to heaven, wails for her +child, accusations of the woman at her feet broke from her in a torrent. +Once she struck at the girl with a feeble fist. + +There was no help to be got from her and Esther rose. She spoke more to +herself than the anguished creature on the sofa: + +"We can't waste time this way. I'll call up Grasslands and ask what to +do." + +The telephone was in the hall and, as she waited for the connection, she +could hear the sounds of the mother's misery beating on the house's rich +silence. Then Dixon's voice brought her faculties into quick order. She +wanted to speak to Mrs. Janney herself, at once, it was important. There +followed what seemed an endless wait, and then Mrs. Janney. When she had +mastered it, her voice came, sharp and incisive: + +"Hold the wire, I have to speak to Mr. Janney." + +Another wait, through which, faint as the shadows of sound, Esther could +hear the tiny echo of voices, then the jar of an approaching step and a +man answered: + +"Hello, Miss Maitland, this is Ferguson. I've orders from Mrs. +Janney—Go straight down to the Whitney office, tell them what's +happened and put the thing in their hands. Say nothing to anybody else. +Mr. and Mrs. Janney are starting to go in. They'll be in town as quickly +as they can get there and will meet you at the office. Got that +straight? All right. Good-by." + +She cogitated a moment, then called up the Whitney office getting +George. She gave him a brief outline of what had occurred and told him +she would be there with Mrs. Price within a half hour. + +Back in the reception room she tried to arouse Suzanne, but the +distracted woman did not seem to have sense left to take in anything. At +the sound of Esther's voice her sobs and wails rose hysterical, and the +girl, finding it impossible to make her understand, set about preparing +her for the drive. Any word of hers appeared to make Suzanne's state +worse, so silently, as if she were dressing a manikin, she pinned the +hat to the disordered blonde hair, draped a motor veil over it, composed +the rumpled skirts, gathered up her purse and gloves, and finally, an +arm crooked round one of Suzanne's, got her out to the motor. + +On the long drive downtown almost nothing was said. The roar of the +surrounding traffic drowned the sounds of weeping that now and then rose +from the veiled figure, which Esther held firm and upright by the +pressure of her shoulder. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI—MOLLY'S STORY +========================= + +That Friday—gee, shall I ever forget it!—opening so quiet and natural +and suddenly bang, in the middle of it, the sort of thing you read in +the yellow press. + +It was a holiday for me and I was sitting in the upper hall alcove +making a blouse and handy to the extension 'phone. Now and then it would +ring and I'd pull it over with a weary sigh and hear a female voice full +of cultivation and airs ask if Mrs. Janney'd take a hand at bridge, or a +male one want to know what Mr. Janney thought about eighteen holes at +golf. + +It was on for one when it rang again and with a smothered groan—for I +was putting on the collar—I jerked it over. *Believe me*, I forgot that +blouse! Stiff, like I was turned to stone, I sat there listening, +hearing them come, one after another, getting every word of it. When +they were through I got up, feeling sort of gone in the middle, and lit +out for the stairs. I couldn't have kept away—Bébita disappeared! +"Kidnapped!" I said to myself as I ran along the hall. "Kidnapped! +that's what it is—it's only poor children that get lost." + +On the stairs I met Mrs. Janney coming up on the run. It wasn't the +speed that made her breath short; but she was on the job, the grand old +Roman, with her mouth as straight as the slit in a post box and her face +as hard as if it was cut out of granite. + +"Go down there," she said, giving a jerk of her head toward the hall +below. "Sit there and wait. Something's happened and you may be useful." + +I went on down and took a seat. Outside on the balcony I could see Mr. +Janney, wandering about with a hunted look. From the telephone closet +came Ferguson's voice telling his chauffeur to bring his car to +Grasslands, now, this minute, and enough gasoline for a long run. Then +he came out, hooked an armful of coats off the hall rack, and ran past +me on to the balcony. He gave the coats to Mr. Janney, who stood holding +them, looking after Ferguson wherever he went and quavering questions at +him. I don't think Ferguson answered them, but he pulled one of the +coats out of the old man's arms and put him into it, quick and +efficient. When the motor came up he tried to make Mr. Janney get in, +but he wouldn't, standing there, helpless and pitiful, and calling out +for Mrs. Janney. + +"I'm here, Sam," came her voice from the stairs and she scudded by where +I was sitting, tying her motor veil over her hat. She seemed to have +forgotten me and I followed her out on to the balcony, not knowing what +she wanted me to do. As I stood there Ferguson's big car came shooting +up the drive. + +She climbed quickly into her own motor, waiting at the bottom of the +steps, Mr. Janney scrambled in after her and Ferguson threw a rug over +them. They were just starting when she looked up and saw me. + +"Oh," she cried, leaning across the old man, "we'll want you—you must +come." + +Mr. Janney stared bewildered at her and said: + +"Why—why should *she* come?" + +"Keep quiet, Sam," then over her shoulder to Ferguson as the car began +to move, "Bring Mrs. Babbitts, Dick. Take her with you." + +The car glided off, Mr. Janney's voice floating back: + +"But why, why—why do you want *her*?" + +Ferguson's motor swung round the oval and came to a halt. The chauffeur +jumped out, and, told he wasn't wanted, disappeared. The young man +turned to me, not a smile out of him now. + +"Come on, get in," he said and then giving a nod at one of the coats +lying over a chair, "and bring that with you—it may blow up cold and +it's a long run." + +I did as I was told—there was something about him that made you do what +he said—and jumped in. He came on my heels, snapped the door and we +started. Before we got to the gates he speeded the machine up and in a +few minutes we were close on the Janney motor which was flying along the +woody road at a pace that would have strained the heart of a bicycle +cop. Their dust came over us in a cloud, and Mr. Ferguson slowed down, +and, his hand resting easy on the wheel, said: + +"What does Mrs. Janney want you for?" + +I'd hoped he hadn't noticed that, but in case he had I'd an answer +ready. + +"Maybe she thought I might have noticed if any one was hanging round +lately—hanging round to size up the habits of the family and Bébita's +movements." + +"Oh," he said, looking at me very pointed, "then you know what's +happened to Bébita." + +I hadn't any answer ready for *that*. I had to get hold of something +quick and as you will do when you're taken off your guard, I got hold of +a lie: + +"I met Mrs. Janney on the stairs and she told me." + +"That's funny," he says, sort of thoughtful. "Before she went she told +both Mr. Janney and myself that no one in the house must hear a word of +it." + +I began to get red, and for a moment, stared at my feet pressed side by +side on the wood in front of me. It didn't make it any pleasanter to +know that Ferguson was looking at me, intent and narrow, out of the tail +of his eye. + +"I guess she was so excited she forgot and just blabbed it out." + +It was the best I could do, but it was poor stuff. If you knew Mrs. +Janney you'd see why. + +"Um," said Ferguson, and took a look ahead at the cloud of dust that hid +the other car. Then he comes out with another: + +"I wonder if that was the reason she called you Mrs. Babbitts?" + +I took a good breath from the bottom of my lungs and said: + +"I shouldn't be surprised. Having your grandchild lost is enough to mix +up any woman." + +He didn't answer and we ran on some way, out of the woods on to a long +straight stretch of road. The motor in front was going at a tremendous +clip, Mrs. Janney's veil lashing out like a wild hand beckoning us on. + +"Look here," says Ferguson, soft and gentle right into my ear, "what +*are* you, anyway?" + +"Me?" I bounced round and gave him a baby stare. "I'm a governess. What +do you think I am?" + +"You may be a good governess but you're a poor liar. I was in the +telephone closet and heard what Mrs. Janney said to you on the stairs. +And I don't think you're a governess at all—you're a detective." + +I thought a minute but what was the use, he had me. So I raised up my +chin and met him, eye for eye: + +"All right, I am. What of it?" + +"Oh, lots of it. I've had my suspicions for some time. You tapped that +'phone message from New York?" + +"I did—it's my job. I have to do it." + +"Don't apologize—it wastes time and we haven't any to lose. Now just +tell me Miss Rogers, or Mrs. Babbitts, what have you found out about the +robbery; where were you getting to before this hideous mess to-day?" + +"Well, you've got your nerve with you!" I snorted. + +"I have, right here handy. I'm a friend of the Janneys, I'm a—" he +stopped. His nerve was handy all right but he hadn't enough to tell me +it was because of Esther Maitland he was so keen. + +"Go on," I said sarcastic. "I'm interested to hear what *you* are now +you've found out what I am." + +"I'm almost a member of the household. I can help. I want to help—and I +want to know." + +"Maybe you do," I said. "We often want things in this world that we +can't get. Don't think you have the monopoly of that complaint." + +The motor rose over the crest of a hill, flashed by a farm and slid down +an incline. Before us stretched a white line of road, with the forward +car racing along it in a blur of dust. + +"You mean you won't tell me?" + +"You got me." + +We suddenly began to slow up, the car swung off sideways from the +roadbed, ran toward the bushes on the right, and came to a halt. +Ferguson dropped against the back of the seat, stretched his legs and +said: + +"This is a nice shady place to stop in." + +"Stop!" I cried. "Forget it! What do you want to stop for?" + +"I don't—it's you. I'm going to rest here quietly while you tell me." + +"Young man," I said, fixing him with a cold eye, "this is no time to be +funny." + +"I entirely agree with you. Therefore as we're of the same mind it +behooves you to get busy and give me the information I want." + +The coolness of him would have riled a hen. It did me; I gave a stamp on +the footboard and angrily said: + +"Start up this machine. I was ordered to go to New York and I've got to +get there." + +"You will as soon as you tell me. But I won't move until you do. We'll +stay here all day, all night if necessary. There's just one thing +certain: we'll stay till I hear what I want to know." + +I was beaten and it made me mad straight through. I was helpless too +and that made me madder. If I'd had the least notion of how you started +the dinged machine I was angry enough to have tried to do it, though it +wouldn't have been any use with Ferguson there to frustrate me. + +"You're losing time," said he. "There'll be trouble if you don't show +up." + +"Do you think it's a high class thing," I snapped out, "to put a girl in +a position like this?" + +"Don't *you* think you can trust me?" he answered very quiet. + +I looked at him, a long, slow survey, and as I did it my anger simmered +down. It's part of my business to read faces and what I saw in his made +me say sort of reluctant: + +"Well, maybe I can." + +He leaned forward and put his hand on mine. + +"Miss Rogers, if you'll stand in with me, trust me and let me help, you +won't make any mistake. For I'll stand in with you, not now, not just +for this thing, but for always. You've my word on it and I don't break +my word." + +That ended it—not what he said but the look of him while he said it. +Almost without knowing it my hand turned under his and they clasped. +Solemn as a pair of images we shook. Any one passing would have thought +we were crazy, backed into the brushwood, side by side on the front +seat, shaking hands as if we'd just been introduced. + +I told him the whole story and he never said a word. When I came to Miss +Maitland's part in it, I couldn't but look at him. He drew his eyebrows +down in a frown and fiddled with his fingers on the wheel. Even when I +told him what they thought about her and Chapman Price he didn't made a +sound, but he straightened up, and drew a deep breath like he wanted +more air in his lungs. I got it some way then—I can't exactly say +how—that he was a good deal more of a person than I'd guessed—a lot +more iron in his make-up than I'd thought when I liked his laugh and his +boyish, jolly ways. + +When I finished he said, easy and cool: + +"Thank you—that gives me just what I wanted. You won't regret having +told me. As for Whitney & Whitney, they won't say anything. They're my +lawyers—known 'em all my life. I'll take care of that." + +He took hold of the wheel and the car backed out into the road. + +"Can we ever catch them up?" I asked. + +"I guess so—this car can make seventy-five miles an hour. Are you game +for a race?" + +"I'm game for anything that'll land me where I belong." + +"All right—hold on to your hat." + +I guess the Lord protects those who are bent on His own business. Anyway +I don't know why else we weren't killed. We ate up that road like a dago +eating macaroni; it ran under the car like a white ribbon fastened to a +spindle somewhere behind us. The woods were two green streaks on either +side, and now and then a chuck hole would send me bouncing, landing +anywhere—on the floor once. + +"Hold on to something," he shouted at me. "I don't want to lose you." + +And I shouted back: + +"You couldn't. I'm wished on to this motor till death do us part or it +lands me somewhere alive." + +Through the villages we had to slow up. Gliding dignified along the +tree-shaded streets put me into a fever and I guess it wore on him for +more than once I heard him muttering to himself, and believe me, he +wasn't saying his prayers. I glimpsed sideways at him, and saw his +tanned face, with the hair loose and tousled by the wind, looking +changed, hardened and older, all the gay expression gone. The news he'd +forced out of me had hit him a body blow, struck him in the heart. And I +was sorry, awfully sorry. You can hurt a mean person or a criminal and +not care, but it's no lady's job to have to wound a decent man. That's +why I'd never make a good professional—the people get as big as the +case to me, and if you're the real thing it's only the case that counts. + +We were almost in Long Island City when we caught up with the Janneys, +Mrs. Janney's veil still waving like a hand beckoning us to hurry. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII—MISS MAITLAND IN A NEW LIGHT +========================================= + +At the entrance of the great building which housed the Whitney office +the two motors came to a halt. Ferguson went in with the others saying +he would see if he could be of any use, and if he was not wanted would +return to the street level and wait. In the elevator Mr. Janney, who had +been informed en route of Molly's real status, eyed her morosely, but +when the car stopped forgot everything but the urgencies of the moment, +and crowded out, tremulous and stumbling, on his wife's heels. + +They were met by Wilbur Whitney who in a large efficient way, +distributed them:—Ferguson was sent back to the street to wait, Molly +waved to a chair in the hall, and the old people conducted up the +passage to his private office. In a room opening from it Suzanne lay +stretched on a sofa, restoratives and stimulants at hand, and a girl +stenographer to fan her. She had revolted against the presence of +Esther, who had been removed from her sight and shut in the sanctum of a +junior partner. + +Mrs. Janney went in to see her and the old man fell upon Whitney. It was +Price's doing—they were certain of it, his wife had said so at once. He +was bound to get back at them some way, he'd said he would—he'd left +Grasslands swearing vengeance, and had been only waiting his +opportunity. The lawyer nodded in understanding agreement and, Mrs. +Janney returning, they drew up to the table and conferred in low voices. + +What Whitney said confirmed the Janneys' belief. He told of his +interview with Price; the man's anger and threats. Nevertheless he was +of the opinion that the plot to kidnap the child had not been undertaken +in sudden passion, but had probably been for some time germinating in +Chapman's mind. The news of Bébita's loss, telephoned to the office by +Miss Maitland, while it had shocked, had not altogether surprised him, +though he had hardly thought the young man's desire to get square would +have carried him to such lengths. Immediately after Esther's +communication, George had telephoned to Price's office receiving the +answer that he was not there but could probably be found at the +Hartleys' at Cedar Brook. From the Hartleys they had learned that Mr. +Price was in town, and had sent word that morning he would not come out +this week-end. + +There were other circumstances which the lawyer said pointed to Price. +These they could hear from Mrs. Babbitts who had made some important +discoveries. He rose to send for her, but Mrs. Janney stayed him with a +gesture—before they went into that she would like to see Miss Maitland +and hear from her exactly what had occurred. Mr. Whitney, suavely +agreeable, sent a summons for Esther, then softly closed the door into +the room where Suzanne lay. + +"Mrs. Price is very bitter against her," he said in explanation. + +Mrs. Janney, too wrought up for polite hypocrisies, said brusquely: + +"Oh, that's exactly like Suzanne. She has no balance at all. Of course +we can't blame Miss Maitland—it's not her fault." + +Mr. Whitney dropped back into his revolving desk chair and swung it +toward her with a lurch of his body: + +"She tells a very clear story—extremely clear. I'll let you get your +own impression of it and then we'll have a talk with Mrs. Babbitts and +you can see—" + +A knock on the door interrupted him; in answer to his "Come in," Esther +entered. She halted a moment on the threshold, her eyes touching the +faces of her employers questioningly, as if she was not sure of her +reception. But Mrs. Janney's quick, "Oh, Miss Maitland, I want to see +you," brought her across the sill. Though she looked harassed and +distressed, her manner showed a restrained composure. She took a chair +facing them, meeting their glances with a steady directness. Mrs. +Janney's demand for information was promptly answered; indeed her +narrative was so devoid of unnecessary detail, so confined to +essentials, that it suggested something gone over and put in readiness +for the telling. + +She had taken Bébita to the dressmaker and the oculist, the child +accompanying her into both places. At the third stop, Justin's, she had +persuaded Bébita to stay in the taxi. She had left it at the curb and +had not been more than ten minutes in the store. When she came out it +was gone. She had spent some time looking for it, searched up and down +the street, and, though she was frightened, she could not believe +anything had happened. Her idea had been that Bébita, tired of waiting +or wanting to play a joke on her, had prevailed on the driver to return +to the Fifth Avenue house. She had hailed a cab and gone back there and +it was not till she saw Mrs. Price that she realized the real extent of +the calamity. Mrs. Price had been utterly overwhelmed, and, not knowing +what else to do, she had called up Grasslands for instructions. + +Mr. Janney, who had been twisting and turning on his chair, burst out +with: + +"The man—the driver—did you notice him?" + +She lifted her hands and dropped them in her lap. + +"Oh, Mr. Janney, *of course* I didn't. Does any one *ever* look at those +men? He never got off his seat, opened the door by stretching his arm +round from the front. I have a sort of vague memory of his face when I +called him off the stand, and I think—but I can't be sure—that he wore +goggles." + +"It's needless to ask if you remember the number," Mrs. Janney said. + +The girl answered with a hopeless shake of the head. + +"You say you ran about looking for the taxi"—it was Mr. Janney +again—"Why did you waste that time?" + +"Mr. Janney," she leaned toward him insistent, but with patience for his +afflicted state, "I thought it had gone somewhere farther along. You +know how they won't let the vehicles stand in Fifth Avenue. I supposed +it was down the block or round the corner on a side street. I asked the +doorman but he hadn't noticed. I looked in every direction and even when +I finally gave up and went after her I hadn't an idea that she'd been +*stolen*." + +"Time lost—all that time lost!" wailed the old man and began to cry. + +"Come, come, Mr. Janney," said Whitney, "don't despond. It's not as bad +as all that, and I'm pretty confident we'll have her back all right +before very long." + +Mr. Janney, with his face in his handkerchief, emitted sounds that no +one could understand. His wife silenced him with a peremptory, "Be +quiet, Sam," and returned to Miss Maitland: + +"You say you dissuaded her from going into Justin's. Why did you do +that?" + +For the first time the girl lost her even poise. As she answered her +voice was unsteady: "We were so pressed for time and I knew I could get +through much quicker without her. That's why I did it—begged her to +stay in the taxi and she said she would,"—she stopped, biting on her +under lip, evidently unable to go on. + +There was a moment's silence broken by Mrs. Janney's voice low and grim: + +"The man heard you and knew that was his chance." + +Miss Maitland, her eyes down, the bitten lip showing red against its +fellow, said huskily: + +"You must blame me—you can't help it—but I'd rather have died than had +such a thing happen." + +Mr. Janney began to give forth inarticulate sounds again and his wife +said with a sort of dreary resignation: + +"Oh, I don't blame you, Miss Maitland. Nobody does. Mrs. Price is not +responsible; she doesn't know what she's saying." + +"Of course, of course," came in Whitney's deep, bland voice, "we all +understand Mrs. Price's feelings—quite natural under the circumstances. +And Miss Maitland's too." He rose and pressed a bell near the door. "Now +if you've heard all you want I'll call in George and we'll talk this +over. And Miss Maitland," he turned to her, urbanely kind and courteous, +"could I trouble you to go back to Mr. Quincy's office; just for a +little while? We won't keep you waiting very long this time." + +A very dapper young man had answered the summons and under his escort +Esther withdrew. Whitney went to a third door connecting with his son's +rooms, opened it and said in a low voice: + +"George, go and get Molly. We're ready for her now." + +Coming back, he stood for a moment by the desk, and swept the faces of +his clients with a meaning look: + +"What you're going to hear from Mrs. Babbitts will be something of a +shock. She's unearthed several rather startling facts that in my opinion +bear on this present event and what led up to it. It's a peculiar +situation and involves not only Price but Miss Maitland." + +Mrs. Janney stared: + +"Miss Maitland and Chapman! What sort of a situation?" + +"At this stage I'll simply say mysterious. But I'm afraid, my dear +friend, that your confidence in the young woman has been misplaced. +However, before I go any further I'll let you hear what Mrs. Babbitts +has to say and draw your own conclusions." + +What Mrs. Babbitts had to say came not as one shock but as a series. +Mrs. Janney could not at first believe it; she had to be shown the notes +of the telephone message, and dropped them in her lap, staring from her +husband to Wilbur Whitney in aghast question. Mr. Janney seemed stunned, +shrunk in his clothes like a turtle in its shell. It was not until the +lawyer, alluding to the loss of the jewels, mentioned Miss Maitland's +possible participation either as the actual thief or as an accomplice, +that he displayed a suddenly vitalized interest. His body stretched +forward, and his neck craned up from its collar gave him more than ever +the appearance of a turtle reaching out of its shell, his voice coming +with a stammering urgency: + +"But—but—no one can be sure. We mustn't be too hasty. We can't condemn +the girl without sufficient evidence. Some one else may have been there +and—" + +Mrs. Janney shut him off with an exasperated impatience: + +"Oh, Sam, don't go back over all that. I don't care who took them; I +don't care if I never see them again. It's only the child that matters." +Then to Whitney the inconsequential disposed of, "We must make a move at +once, but we must do it quietly without anything getting into the +papers." + +Whitney nodded: + +"That's my idea." + +"What are you going to do—go directly to him?" + +"No, not yet. Our first step will be made as you suggest, very quietly. +We're going to keep the matter out of the papers and away from the +police. Keep it to ourselves—do it ourselves. And I think—I don't want +to raise any false hopes—but I think we can lay our hands on Bébita +to-night." + +"How—where?" Mr. Janney's head was thrust forward, his blurred eyes +alight. + +"If you don't mind, I'm not going to tell you. I'm going to ask you to +leave it to me and let me see if my surmises are correct. If Chapman has +her where I think he has, I'll give her over to you by ten o'clock. If +I'm mistaken it will only mean a short postponement. He can't keep her +and he knows it." + +"The blackguard!" groaned the old man in helpless wrath. + +Mrs. Janney wasted neither time nor energy in futile passion. She +attacked another side of the situation. + +"What are we to do with Miss Maitland? You can't arrest her." + +"Certainly not. She's a very important person and we must have her under +our eye. You must treat her as if you entirely exonerated her from all +blame—maintain the attitude you took just now when talking with her. If +my immediate plan should fail our best chance of getting Bébita without +publicity and an ugly scandal will be through her. She must have no hint +of what we think, must believe herself unsuspected, and free to come and +go as she pleases." + +"You mean she's to stay on with us?" Mr. Janney's voice was high with +indignant protest. + +"Exactly—she remains the trusted employee with whose painful position +you sympathize. It won't be difficult, for you won't see much of her. +You'll naturally stay here in town till Bébita is found. What I intend +to do with her is to send her back to Grasslands with a competent +jailer—" he paused and pointed where Molly sat, silent and almost +forgotten. + +For a moment the Janneys eyed her, questioning and dubious, then Mrs. +Janney voiced their mutual thought: + +"Is Mrs. Babbitts, alone, a sufficient guard?" + +The lawyer smiled. + +"Quite. Miss Maitland doesn't want to run away. She knows too much for +that. No position could be better for our purpose than to leave +her—apparently unsuspected—alone in that big house. She will be +confident, possibly take chances." He turned on Molly, glowering at her +from under his overhanging brows. "The safest and quickest means of +communication with Grasslands, when the family is in town and the +servants ignorant of the situation, would be the telephone." + +That ended the conference. Mrs. Janney went to get Suzanne and Molly +received her final instructions. She was to return to Grasslands with +Miss Maitland, Ferguson could take them in his motor. She was to sit in +the back seat with the lady and casually drop the information that she +had come to town in answer to a wire from the Whitney office. She might +have seen suspicious characters lurking about the grounds or in the +woods. On no account was she to let her companion guess that Price was +suspected, and any remarks which might place the young woman more +completely at her ease, allay all sense of danger, would be valuable. + +They left the room and went into the entrance hall where Esther, and +presently Mrs. Janney, joined them. Whitney struck the note of a +reassuring friendliness in his manner to the girl, and the old people, +rather reservedly chimed in. She seemed grateful, thanked them, +reiterating her distress. In the elevator, going down, Molly noticed +that she fell into a staring abstraction, starting nervously as the iron +gate swung back at the ground floor. + +Ferguson, waiting on the curb, saw them as they emerged from the +doorway. His eyes leaped at the girl, and, as she crossed the sidewalk, +were riveted on her. Their expression was plain, yearning and passion no +longer disguised. If she saw the look she gave no sign, nodded to him, +and, leaving Molly to explain, climbed into the back seat and sunk in a +corner. Though the afternoon was hot she picked up the cloak lying on +the floor and drew it round her shoulders. + +The drive home was very silent. Molly gave the prescribed reasons for +her presence and heard them answered with the brief comments of +inattention. She also touched on the other matters and found her +companion so unresponsive that she desisted. It was evident that Esther +Maitland wanted to be left to her own thoughts. Huddled in the cloak, +her eyes fixed on the road in front, she sat as silent and enigmatic as +a sphinx. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII—THE HOUSE IN GAYLE STREET +======================================= + +The Janney party left the office soon after Molly and Esther. They had +decided to stay at the St. Boniface hotel where rooms had already been +engaged, and, with Suzanne swathed in veils and clinging to her mother's +arm, they were escorted to the elevator and cheered on their way by the +two Whitneys. When the car slid out of sight the father and the son went +back into the old man's room. + +It was now late afternoon, the sun, sinking in a fiery glow, glazed the +waters of the bay, seen from these high windows like a golden floor. The +day, which had opened fresh and cool, had grown unbearably hot; even +here, far above the street's stifling level, the air was breathless. The +men, starting the electric fans, sat down to talk things over and wait. +For the machinery of "the move" spoken of by Wilbur Whitney already had +been set in motion. + +Immediately after Esther's telephone message O'Malley had been called up +and, with an assistant, dispatched to watch the Gayle Street house. As +Whitney had told his clients, the news of the child's disappearance had +hardly surprised him. Chapman's anger and threats portended some violent +action of reprisal, and, even as the lawyer had questioned what form it +might take, came the answer. Chapman had stolen his own child and had a +hiding place prepared and waiting for her reception. It was undoubtedly +only a temporary refuge, he would hardly keep her in such sordid +surroundings. The Whitneys saw it as a night's bivouac before a longer +flight. And that flight would never take place; every exit was under +surveillance, there was no possibility of escape. The two men, smoking +tranquilly under the breath of the electric fans, were quietly +confident. They would bring Chapman's vengeance to an abrupt end and +avert an ignominious family scandal. Meantime they awaited O'Malley—who +was to return to the office for George—and as they waited discussed the +kidnapping, knowledge supplemented by deductions. + +When Chapman had decided on it he had instructed Esther, telling her to +inform him when the opportunity offered. This she could do by letter, +or, if time pressed, by telephone from a booth in the village. The trip +to New York had been planned several days in advance and he had been +advised of it, its details probably telephoned in the day before. He—or +some one in his pay—had driven the taxi. It had been stationed in the +rank near the house, where in the dead season there were few vehicles +and from whence the extra one needed by Suzanne would naturally be +taken. That Esther, with a long list of commissions to execute, should +leave the child in the cab was an entirely natural proceeding. Her +explanation of her subsequent actions was also disarmingly plausible, +and the minutes thus expended gave the time necessary for the driver to +make his get-away. Before she had acquainted Suzanne with the news, the +child was hidden in the room at 76 Gayle Street. + +Whether the room was taken for this purpose was a question. If it was +then the idea had been in Chapman's mind for weeks—it was the "coming +back" he had hinted at when he left Grasslands. If, however, it had been +hired as a place of rendezvous with his confederate, it had assisted +them in the carrying out of their plot—might indeed have suggested it. +For as a lair in which to lie low it offered every advantage—secluded, +inconspicuous, the rest of the floor untenanted. They could keep the +child there without rousing a suspicion, for if Chapman was with +her—and they took for granted that he was—she would be contented and +make no outcry. She loved him and was happy in his society. + +"Poor devil!" growled the old man. "You can't help being sorry for him, +even if he did do it to hit back. It's his child and he's fond of her." + +George gave a short laugh: + +"I fancy it's more the hitting back than the fondness. Chapman's not +shown up lately in a very sentimental light. It wouldn't surprise me if +he'd ransom in the back of his mind. But we'll put an end to his +ambitions or parental longings or whatever's inspiring him." He looked +at his watch, then rose. "It's a quarter past seven and O'Malley's due +at the half hour. It's understood we're to bring the child here first?" + +His father gave an assenting grunt and hitched his chair into the +current of air from the fan. + +George turned on the lights, their tempered radiance flooding the room, +the windows starting out as black squares sewn with stars. + +"I don't quite see what I'm going to say to him," he muttered, a +sidelong eye on his father. + +"Say nothing," came the answer. "Bring the child back here—that's your +job. Leave him to me. Mrs. Janney and I'll have it out with him when the +time comes." + +On the tick of half-past seven O'Malley appeared. Trickles of +perspiration ran down his red face, and his collar was melted to a +sodden band. + +"Gee," he panted as he ran a handkerchief round his neck, "it's like a +Turkish bath down there in the street." + +"Well," said George, impatient of all but the main issue, "is it all +right?" + +"Yep—I've left two men in charge—every exit's covered. And there's +only one they could use—no way out back except over the fences and +through other houses." + +"He could hardly tackle that with a child." + +"He couldn't tackle it alone and make it—not the way I've got things +fixed. And I've worked out our line of action; Stebbins relieved me at +half-past six and I went and had a séance with the janitor. Said I was +coming round later with a man who was looking for a room—the room I'd +been inquiring about. That'll let us in quiet; right up to the top floor +and no questions asked." + +"The only hitch possible can come from Chapman—he may be ugly and show +his teeth." + +The old man answered: + +"I guess he'll be tractable. If he's inclined to argue bring him along +with you. It's after eight. I don't want to sit here half the night. Get +busy and go." + +O'Malley had a taxi waiting and they slid off up the deserted regions of +Broadway. After a few blocks they swerved to the left, plunging into a +congeries of mean streets where a network of fire-escapes encaged the +house fronts. The lights from small shops illumined the sidewalks, thick +with sauntering people. The taxi moved slowly, children darting from its +approach, swept round a corner and ran on through less animated lanes of +travel, upper windows bright, disheveled figures leaning on the sills, +vague groupings on front steps. At intervals, like the threatening voice +of some advancing monster, came the roar of the elevated trains, +sweeping across a vista with a rocking rush of light. O'Malley drew +himself to the edge of the sea and peered out ahead. + +"We're not far off now," he muttered. "We'll stop at the corner of the +block—there's a bookbinding place there that's dark and quiet. If we go +to the door they might catch on, get panicky, and make a row." + +At one end of the street's length the lamp-spotted darkness of +Washington Square showed like a spangled curtain. The cab turned from it +and crossed a wide avenue over which the skeleton structure of the +elevated straddled like a vast centipede. Beyond stretched a darkling +perspective touched at recurring intervals with the white spheres of +lamps. It was a propitious time, the evening overflow dispersed, the +loneliness of the deep night hours, when a footfall echoes loud and a +solitary figure looms mysterious, not yet come. + +The cab drew up at the curb by the shuttered face of the book bindery +and the man alighted. With a low command to the driver, O'Malley, George +beside him, walked up the block. From a shadowy doorway a figure +detached itself, slunk by them with a whispered hail and vanished. +Toward the street's far end they stopped at a door level with the +sidewalk, and O'Malley, bending to scrutinize a line of push buttons, +pressed one. + +"Is this the place?" George whispered, in startled revulsion. + +"This is the place. And a good one for Price's purpose as you'll see +when you get in." + +The young man noted the battered doorway, slightly out of plumb, then +stepped back and glanced at the façade. Many of the windows, uncurtained +and open, were lit up. Those of the top floor—dormers projecting from a +mansard roof—were dark. He was about to call O'Malley's attention to +this, when the sounds of footsteps within the house checked him. + +There was a rattling of locks and bolts and the door swung open +disclosing a man, grimy, old and bent, a lamp in his hand. He squinted +uncertainly at them, then growled irritably as he recognized O'Malley: + +"Oh, it's you. I thought you wasn't comin'? If you'd been any later you +wouldn't 'a got me up." + +O'Malley explained that the gentleman was detained—couldn't get away +any earlier, very sorry, but they'd be quick and make no noise—just +wanted to see the rooms and get out. + +In single file, the janitor leading, they mounted the stairs. To the +aristocratic senses of George the place seemed abominable. The +staircase, narrow and without balustrade, ran up steeply between walls +once painted green, now blotched and smeared. At the end of the first +flight there was a small landing, a gas bracket holding aloft a tiny +point of flame. It was as hot as an oven, the stifling atmosphere +impregnated with mingled odors of cooking, stale cigar smoke, and the +mustiness of close, unaired spaces. + +On the second landing one of the doors was open, affording a glimpse of +a squalid interior, and a man in his shirt sleeves bent over a table +writing. He did not look up as they creaked by. From somewhere near, +muffled by walls, came the thin, frail tinkling of guitar strings. As +they ascended the temperature grew higher, the air held in the low attic +story under the roof, baked to a sweltering heat. The janitor muttered +an excuse—the top floor being vacant the windows were kept shut—it +would be cool enough when they were opened. + +He had gained the last landing, which broadened into a small square of +hall cut by three doors. As he turned to one on the left, O'Malley +slipped by him and drew away toward that on the right. There was a +moment of silence, broken by the clinking of the man's keys. He had +trouble in finding the right one and set his lamp down on a chair, his +head bent over the bunch. George was aware of O'Malley's figure casting +a huge wavering shadow up the wall, edging closer to the right hand +door. + +The key was found and inserted in the lock and the janitor entered the +room, his lamp diffusing a yellow aura in the midst of which he moved, a +black, retreating shape. With his withdrawal the light in the hall, +furnished by a bead of gas, faded to a flickering obscurity. O'Malley's +shadow disappeared, and George could see him as a formless oblong, +pressed against the panel. There was a moment of intense stillness, the +guitar tinkling faint as if coming through illimitable distances. The +detective's voice rose in a whisper, vital and intimate, against the +music's spectral thinness: + +"Queer. There's not a sound." + +His hand stole to the handle, clasped it, turned it. Noiselessly the +door opened upon darkness into which he slipped equally noiseless. + +That slow opening was so surprising, so dreamlike in its quality of the +totally unexpected, that George stood rooted. He stared at the square of +the door, waiting for voices, clamor, the anticipated in some form. Then +he saw the darkness pierced by the white ray of an electric torch and +heard a sound—a rumbled oath from O'Malley. It brought him to the +threshold. In the middle of the room, his torch sending its shaft over +walls and floor, stood the detective alone, his face, the light shining +upward on the chin and the tip of his nose, grotesque in its enraged +dismay. + +"Not here—d——n them!" and his voice trailed off into furious curses. + +"Gone?" The surprise had made George forgetful. + +"Gone—no!" The man almost shouted in his anger. "How could they +go?—Didn't I say every outlet was blocked. They ain't been here. They +ain't had her here. Get a match, light the gas—I got to see the place +anyway." + +The torch's ray had touched a gas fixture on the wall and hung steady +there. As the men fumbled for matches, the janitor came clumping across +the hall, calling in querulous protest: + +"Say—how'd you get in there? That ain't the place—it's rented." + +.. _`His face was ludicrous in its enraged enmity`: + +.. figure:: images/illus3.jpg + :align: center + :alt: His face was ludicrous in its enraged enmity + + His face was ludicrous in its enraged enmity + + +He stopped in the doorway, scowling at them under the glow of his upheld +lamp. A match sputtered over the gas and a flame burst up with a +whistling rush. In the combined illumination the room was revealed as +bleak and hideous, the walls with blistered paper peeling off in shreds, +the carpet worn in paths and patches, an iron bed, a bureau, by the one +window, a table. The janitor continuing his expostulations, O'Malley +turned on him and flashed his badge with a fierce: + +"Shut up there. Keep still and get out. We've got a right here and if +you make any trouble you'll hear from us." + +The man shrank, scared. + +"Police!" he faltered, then looking from one to the other. "But what +for? There's no one here, there ain't ever been any one—it's took but +it's been empty ever since." + +O'Malley who had sent an exploring glance about him, made a dive for a +newspaper lying crumpled on the floor by the bed. One look at it, and he +was at the man's side, shaking it in his face: + +"What do you say to this? Yesterday's—how'd it get here? Blew in +through the window maybe." + +The janitor scanned the top of the page, then raised his eyes to the +watching faces. His fright had given place to bewilderment and he began +a stammering explanation—if any one had been there he'd never known it, +never seen no one come in or go out, never heard a sound from the +inside. + +"Did you see any one—any one that isn't a regular resident—come into +the house yesterday or to-day?" It was George's question. + +He didn't know as he'd seen anybody—not to notice. The tenants had +friends, they was in and out all day and part of the night. And anyway +he wasn't around much after he'd swept the halls and taken down the +pails. Yesterday and to-day he guessed he'd stayed in the basement most +of the time. If anybody had been in the room—and it looked like they +had—it was unbeknownst to him. The lady had the key; she could have +come in without him seeing; it wasn't his business to keep tab on the +tenants. He showed a tendency to diverge to the subject of his duties +and George cut him off with a greenback pushed into his grimy claw and +an order to keep their visit secret. + +Meantime O'Malley had started on an examination of the room. There was +more than the paper to prove the presence of a recent occupant. The bed +showed the imprint of a body; pillow and counterpane were indented by +the pressure of a recumbent form. On its foot lay a book, an unworn +copy, as if newly bought, of "The Forest Lovers." The table held an ink +bottle, the ink still moist round its uncorked mouth, some paper and +envelopes and a pen. There was a scattering of pins on the bureau, two +gilt hairpins and a black net veil, crumpled into a bunch. Pushed back +toward the mirror was the cover of the soap dish containing ashes and +the butts of four cigarettes. + +O'Malley studied the bureau closely, ran the light of his torch back and +forth across it, shook out the veil, sniffed it, and put it and the two +hairpins carefully into his wallet. Then with the book and the paper in +his hand he straightened up, turned to George, and said: + +"That about cleans it up. There's nothing for it now but to go back." + +The janitor, anxiously watchful, followed on their heels as they went +down the stairs. Their clattering descent was followed by the strains of +the guitar, thinly debonair and mocking as if exulting over their +discomfiture. In the street the same shape emerged from the shadows and +slouched toward them. A grunted phrase from O'Malley sent it drifting +away, spiritless and without response, like a lonely ghost come in timid +expectation and repelled by a rebuff. + +O'Malley dropped into a corner of the taxi and as it glided off, said: + +"That's the last of 76 Gayle Street as far as they're concerned." + +"Why do you say that?" + +In the darkness the detective permitted himself a sidelong glance of +scorn. + +"You don't leave the door unlocked in that sort of place unless you're +done with it. They've got all they wanted out of it and quit." + +"Abandoned it?" + +"That's right—made a neat, quiet get-away. They didn't say they were +going, didn't give up the key—it was on the inside of the door. Just +slid out and vanished." + +"Some one was there yesterday." + +"Um," O'Malley's voice showed a pondering concentration of thought. +"Some one was lying on the bed reading; waiting or passing time." + +"They couldn't have been there to-day—before your men were on the job?" + +O'Malley drew himself to the edge of the seat, his chest inflated with a +sudden breath: + +"Why couldn't they? Why couldn't *that* have been the rendezvous? Why +couldn't she have lost the child down here on Gayle Street instead of +opposite Justin's? Price was there beforehand: up she comes, tips him +off that the taxi's in the street, sees him leave and goes herself, +across to Fifth Avenue where she picks up a cab. It's safer than the +other way—no cops round, janitor in the basement, if she's seen nothing +to be remarked—a lady known to have a room on the top floor." He +brought his fist down on his knee. "That's what they did and it explains +what's been puzzling me." + +"What?" + +"There was no dust on the top of the bureau; it had been wiped off +to-day. There was no dust on that veil; it hadn't been there since +yesterday. A woman fixed herself at that glass not so long ago. Price +had a date with her to deliver the child and he was lying on the bed +reading while he waited. When he heard her he threw down the book, got +the good word and lit out. After he'd gone she took off her veil—what +for? To get her face up to show to Mrs. Price—whiten it, make it look +right for the news she was bringing. When she left she was made up for +the part she was to play. And I take my hat off to her, for she played +it like a star." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX—MOLLY'S STORY +========================= + +It was nearly seven when we got back to Grasslands. We alighted as +silent as we started, and I was following Miss Maitland into the hall, +Ferguson behind me, when she turned in the doorway and spoke. She had +orders that the servants must know nothing; she was to tell them that +the family would stay in town for a few days, and for me to be careful +what I said before them. Then, before I could answer, she glanced at +Ferguson and said good-by, her eyes just touching him for a moment and +passing, cold and weary, back to me. She'd wish me good-night, she was +going to her room and not coming down again—no, thanks, she'd take no +dinner, she was very tired. She didn't need to say that. If I ever saw a +person dead beat and at the end of her string she was it. + +Ferguson stood looking after her. I think for the moment he forgot me, +or maybe he wasn't conscious of what his face showed. Some way or other +I didn't like to look at him; it was as if I was spying on something I +had no right to see. So I turned away and dropped into one of the +balcony chairs, sunk down against the back and feeling limp as a rag. + +Presently came his step and he was in front of me, his head bent down +with the hair hanging loose on his forehead, and his eyes like they were +hooks that would pull the words out of me: + +"What happened up there at the Whitneys?" + +"Mr. Ferguson," I answered solemn, "I've told you more than I ought +already. Is it the right thing for me to go on doing wrong?" + +"Yes," he says, sharp and decided, "it's exactly the right thing. Keep +on doing it and we'll get somewhere." + +I set my lips tight and looked past him at the lawn. He waited a minute +then said: + +"I thought you agreed to trust me." + +"There's a good deal more to it now than there was then." + +"All the more reason for telling me. Of course I can get all I want from +Mrs. Janney or either of the Whitneys; they don't let ladylike scruples +stand in the way. But that means a trip to town and I'm not ready to +take it." + +It was surprising how that young man could make you feel like a worm who +had a conscience in place of common sense. + +"Have I got your word, sworn to on the Bible, if we had one here, not to +give her a hint of it?" + +"Good Lord!" he groaned. "Don't talk like the ingénue in a melodrama. +Let me see why the Whitneys think so much of you. You must have *some* +intelligence—give me a sample of it." + +That settled it. + +"Take a seat," I said. "You make me nervous staring at me like the lion +in the menagerie at the fat child." + +He sat down and I told him—the whole business, what she had said, what +they had thought—everything. When I'd finished he rose up and, with his +hands burrowed deep in his pockets, began pacing up and down the +balcony. I didn't give a peep, watching him cautious from under my +eyelids. + +After a bit he said in a low voice: + +"Preposterous—crazy! She had no more to do with it than you have." + +"They think different." + +"I've gathered that. And Price had nothing to do with it either." + +It was all very well for him to stand by her, but to sweep Price off the +map! I couldn't sit still and let him rave on. + +"Price hadn't? Take another guess. Price is the mainspring of it." + +"I'll leave guessing to you—it's your business, and you appear to do it +very well." + +"Say, drop me altogether. I'm only a paid servant. But you'll have to +admit that Mr. Whitney and his son count pretty big in their line." + +"Very big, Miss Rogers. But they've made a mistake this time—or +possibly been misled. The Janneys have never been fair to Price. They're +prejudiced and they've branded the prejudice on. He isn't an angel, +neither is he a rascal. He didn't take his child, he never thought of +it, he couldn't do it." + +"Then who did?" + +"That's what I want to find out." + +"Jerusalem!" I said, sitting up, feeling like the peaceful scene around +me was suddenly dark and strange. "You don't think she's *really* been +kidnaped?" + +"I can't think anything else." He stopped in front of me, looking at me +hard and stern. "I'd like to find another solution but I'm unable to." + +"But, gee-whizz!" I stared at him, all worried and mixed. "You can't get +away from the facts. They're all there—there's hardly a break." + +"I don't admit that. This man and woman have got characters and records +that haven't been considered—but even if you had a hole-proof case +against them I wouldn't believe it." + +"Oh, pshaw!" I said, simmering down, "you just believe what you want to. +I've seen people like that before." + +"I daresay you have, I'm not a unique specimen in the human family. But +I'll tell you what I am just at this juncture—the only one among you +that's right." He drew back and gave a vengeful wag of his head at me. +"You've all gone off at half-cock—doing your best to ruin a man who's +harmless and a girl who's—who's—" he stopped, and wheeled away from +me. "Tch—it makes me sick! Hate and anger and jealousy—that's what's +at the bottom of it. I can't talk about it any longer—it's too beastly. +Good-night!" + +He turned on his heel, ran down the steps and over the grass, clearing +the terrace wall with a leap. I looked after him, fading into the early +night, disturbed and with a sort of cold heaviness in my heart. He was +no fool—suppose what he thought was true? Suppose that dear child whom +I'd grown to love—but, rubbish! I wouldn't think of it. It was easy to +account for the way he felt. Every little movement has a meaning of its +own—and the meaning in all his little movements was love. He had it +bad, poor chap, out on him like the measles, and while you have to be +gentle with the sick you don't pay much attention to what they say. + +That was a dreary evening. There being no one but me around they served +my dinner in the dining room, and it added to the strain. Some of the +food I didn't know whether to eat with a fork or a spoon, so I had to +pass up a lot which was hard seeing I was hungry. But when you're born +in an east side tenement you feel touchy that way—I wasn't going to be +criticized by two corn-fed menials. I'm glad I'm not rich; it's grand +all right, but it isn't comfortable. + +The next day—Saturday—it rained and I sat round in the hall and my +room where I could hear the 'phone and keep an eye on Miss Maitland. All +she did was to go for a walk, and in the afternoon stay in her study. We +saw each other at meals, our conversation specially edited for Dixon and +Isaac. + +Sunday was fine weather again and Ferguson came round at twelve. Miss +Maitland had gone for another walk and he and I had the hall to +ourselves. He'd been in town the day before, seen George Whitney and +told him what he thought. When I asked how Mr. George took it, he gave a +sarcastic smile and said, "He listened very politely but didn't seem +much impressed." He also told me they'd hoped to find the child Friday +night in the room at 76 Gayle Street and had been disappointed. + +"Of course she wasn't there," and he ended with "it was only wasting +valuable time, but there's a proverb about none being so blind as those +who won't see." + +After that he dropped the subject—I think he wanted to get away from +it—and pow-wowing together we worked around to the robbery, which had +been side-tracked by the bigger matter. He said it had been in his mind +to tell me a curious circumstance that he'd come on the night the jewels +were taken and that he thought might be helpful to me. It was about a +cigar band that Miss Maitland had found in the woods that evening when +he and she had walked home together. Before he was half through I was +listening attentive as a cat at a mouse hole, for it was a queer story +and had possibilities. After I put some questions and had it all clear, +we mulled it over—the way I love to do. + +"A man dropped it," I said slowly, my thoughts chasing ahead of my +words, "who went through the woods after the storm." + +"Exactly—between eight-thirty and ten-thirty. And do you grasp the fact +that those were the hours the house was vacated—the logical time to rob +it?" + +"Yes, I've thought of that often—wondered why they waited." + +"And do you grasp another fact—that Hannah a little before nine heard +the dogs barking and then quieting down as if they scented some one they +knew?" + +I nodded; that too I'd made a mental note of. + +"It couldn't have been Price for he was on the way to town then." + +"Oh, Price—" he gave an impatient jerk of his head—"of course it +wasn't Price, but it *was* some one the dogs knew. That would have been +just about the time a man, watching the house and seeing the ground +floor dark, would have come across the lawn to make his entrance." + +I pondered for a spell then said: + +"Did you ever tell this to Mrs. Janney or any of them?" + +"No, I didn't think of it myself until a little while ago—the night I +dined here and saw it was one of Mr. Janney's cigars. And then what was +the use—the light by the safe had fixed the time." + +"Yes—if it wasn't for that light you'd have got a real lead. Too bad, +for it's a bully starting point, and it would have let out those other +two." + +He stiffened up, suddenly haughty looking. + +"There's no necessity of letting out people who never were in. But if +that light was eliminated you could work on the theory that a +professional thief—an expert safe opener—had done the business." + +"How would the dogs know *him*?" I asked. + +He leaned toward me, looking with a quiet sort of meaning into my face: + +"Suppose you put that mind of yours, that Wilbur Whitney values so +highly and I'm beginning to see indications of, on that question." + +"What's the sense of wasting it? My mind's my capital and I don't draw +on it unless there's a need. You get rid of that light at one-thirty and +I'll expend some of it." + +I laughed, but he didn't, looking on the ground frowning and thoughtful. +Then a step on the balcony made us both turn. It was Miss Maitland, back +from her walk, looking much better, a smile at the sight of him, and a +little color in her face. She joined us and, Dixon announcing lunch, +Ferguson invited himself to stay. It was the first human meal I'd eaten +since the doors of the dining room had opened to me. + +After lunch I left them on the balcony and went upstairs to my room. I +tried to read but the air, blowing in warm and sweet and the scent of +the garden coming up, made the book seem dull, and I went to the window +and leaned out. + +A while passed that way and then I saw Ferguson going home, a long +figure in white flannels striding across the lawn to the wood path. Then +out from the kitchen come the servants, all togged up, six girls and +Isaac, and away they go on their bikes to the beach. From what I've seen +of the homes of the rich I'd rather be in the kitchen than the +parlor—the help have it all over the quality for plain enjoyment. They +went off bawling gayly, and presently Dixon appears, looking like a +parson on his day off, all brisk and cheerful. Last of all comes Hannah, +her hair as slick as a seal's, a dinky little hat set on top of it, and +a parasol held over it all. She waddled off, large and slow, in another +direction, toward the woods—for a cup of tea and a neighborly gossip in +Ferguson's kitchen, I guess. How I wished I was along with them! + +There I was left, lolling back and forth on the sill, kicking with my +toes on the floor, and wondering what my poor, deserted boy was doing in +town. Then sudden, piercing the stillness with a sort of tingling +thrill, comes the ring of the hall telephone. + +I gave a soft jump, snatched up my pad and pencil, and was at the table +and had the receiver off before she'd got to the closet downstairs. It +was so quiet, not a sound in the house, that I could hear every catch in +her breath and every tone in her voice. And what I heard was worth +listening to. A man spoke first: + +"Hello, who's this?" + +"Esther Maitland. Is it—is it?" + +"Yes—C. P. I've waited until now as I knew there wouldn't be anybody +around. It's all right." + +"Truly. You're not saying it to keep me quiet?" + +"Not a bit. There's no need for any worry. Everything's gone without a +hitch." + +"And you think it's safe—to—to—take the next step?" + +"Perfectly. We're going to get her out of town on Tuesday night." + +"Oh!" I could hear the relief in her voice. "You don't know what this +means to me?" + +He gave a little, dry laugh: + +"Me too—I'll admit it's been something of a strain. That's all I wanted +to say. Good-by." + +I scratched it on the pad, and tiptoed back to my room, short of breath +a bit myself. What would Ferguson say to this? I stood by the window, +thinking how to send it in, and things went right for out she came from +the balcony and walked across to a place on the lawn where there were +some chairs under a group of maples. She sat down and began to read, and +I stole back to the hall and took a call for the Whitney house. Being +Sunday they might be out, but that went right too, for I got the Chief +himself. I told him and asked for instructions and they came straight +and quick: + +"Bring her into town to-morrow morning. There's a train at nine-thirty +you can take. Get a taxi at the depot and come right up to the office. +You'll have to tell her in what capacity you're serving the family. +That'll be easy—you were engaged for the robbery. Don't let her think +you have any interest in the kidnaping, and on no account let her guess +we suspect her. Say you've had a message from me, that some new facts +have come in and I want to ask her a few questions—see if the +information tallies with what she saw. Keep her quiet and calm. Got that +straight? All right—so long." + + + + +CHAPTER XX—MOLLY'S STORY +======================== + +The next morning, in the hall, right after breakfast I told her what I +had to tell—I mean who I was. It gave her a start—held her listening +with her eyes hard on mine—then when I explained it was for inside work +on the robbery she eased up, got cool and nodded her head at me, +politely agreeing. She understood perfectly and would go wherever she +was wanted; she was glad to do anything that would be of assistance; no +one was more anxious than she to help the family in their distress, and +so forth and so on. + +On the way in she was quiet, but I don't think as peaceful as she acted. +She asked me some questions about my work. I answered brisk and bright +and she said it must be a very interesting profession. I've seen nervy +people in my time but no woman that beat her for cool sand, and the way +I'm built I can't help but respect courage no matter what the person's +like who has it. Before we reached town I was full of admiration for +that girl who, as far as I could judge, was a crook from the ground up. + +When we reached the office I was called into an inner room where the +Chief and Mr. George were waiting. I gave them my paper with the 'phone +message on it, and answered the few questions they had to ask. I learned +then that they'd got hold of more evidence against her. O'Malley had +snooped round the Gayle Street locality and heard that on Friday morning +about half-past eleven a taxi, containing a child resembling Bébita, had +been seen opposite a book bindery on the corner of the block. I didn't +hear any particulars but I saw by the Chief's manner, quiet and sort of +absorbed, and by Mr. George, like a blue-ribbon pup straining at the +leash, that they had Esther Maitland dead to rights and the end was in +sight. + +After that I was sent back into the hall where I'd left her and told to +bring her into the old man's private office. We went up the passage, a +murmur of voices growing louder as we advanced. She was ahead and, as +the door opened, she stopped for a moment on the threshold, quick, like +a horse that wants to shy. Over her shoulder I could see in, and I don't +wonder she pulled up—any one would. There, beside the Chief and Mr. +George, were the two old Janneys and Mrs. Price, sitting stiff as +statues, each of them with their eyes on her, gimlet-sharp and +gimlet-hard. They said some sort of "How d'ye do" business and made bows +like Chinese mandarins, but their faces would have made a chorus girl +get thoughtful. I guessed then they knew about the tapped message and +had come to see Miss Maitland get the third degree. She scented the +trouble ahead too—I don't see how she could have helped it; there was +thunder in the air. But she said good-morning to them, cordial and easy, +and walked over to the chair Mr. George pushed forward for her. + +Sitting there in the midst of them, she looked at the Chief, politely +inquiring, and I couldn't help but think she was a winner. Mrs. Price, +all weazened up and washed out, was like a cosmetic advertisement beside +her. She held herself very straight, her hands folded together in her +lap, her head up cool and proud. She had on the white hat with the +wreath of grapes and a wash-silk dress of white with lilac stripes that +set easy over her fine shoulders, and, believe me, bad or good, she was +a thoroughbred. + +The Chief, turning himself round toward her with a hitch of his chair, +began as bland and friendly as if they'd just met at a tea-fest. + +"We're very sorry to bother you again, Miss Maitland. But certain facts +have come up since you were here that make it necessary for me to ask +you a few more questions." + +She just inclined her head a little and murmured: + +"It's no bother at all, Mr. Whitney. I'm only too anxious to help in any +way I can." + +Honest-to-God I think the Chief got a jar; the words came as smooth and +as cool as cream just off the ice. For a second he looked at his desk +and moved a paper knife very careful, as if it was precious and he was +afraid of breaking it. + +"I'm glad to hear you say that, Miss Maitland. It's not only what one +would expect you to feel, but it makes me sure that you will be willing +to explain certain circumstances concerning yourself and +your—er—activities—that have—well—er—rather puzzled us." + +It was my business to watch her and even if it hadn't been I couldn't +have helped doing it. I saw just two things—the light strike white +across the breast of her blouse where a quick breath lifted it, and, for +a second, her hands close tight till the knuckles shone. Then they +relaxed and she said very softly: + +"Certainly. I'll explain anything." + +"Very good. I was sure you would." He leaned forward, one arm on the +desk, his big shoulders hunched, his eyes sharp on her but still very +kind. "We have discovered—of course you'll understand that our +detectives have been busy in all directions—that nearly a month ago you +took a room at 76 Gayle Street. Now that I should ask about this may +seem an unwarranted impertinence, but I would like to know just why you +took that room." + +There was a slight pause. Mrs. Price, who was sitting next to me, an +empty chair in front of her, rustled and in the moment of silence I +could hear her breathing, short and catchy, like it was coming hard. +Miss Maitland, who, as the Chief had spoken, had dropped her eyes to her +hands, looked up at him: + +"I have no objection to telling you. I took it for a school friend of +mine—Aggie Brown, a girl I hadn't seen for years. A month ago she wrote +me from St. Louis and told me she was coming to New York to study art +and asked me to engage a room for her. She said she had very little +money and it must be inexpensive. I had heard of that place from other +girls—that it was respectable and cheap—so I engaged the room. It so +happens that my friend is not yet in New York. She was delayed by +illness in her family." + +I sent a look around and caught them like pictures going quick in a +movie—Mr. Janney glimpsing sideways, worried and frowning, at his wife, +Mr. George, his arm on the back of his chair, pulling at his little +blonde mustache and twisting his mouth around, and the Chief pawing +absent-minded after the paper knife. Miss Maitland, with her chin up and +her shoulders square, had her eye on him, attentive and steady, like a +soldier waiting for orders. + +Then out of the silence came Mrs. Janney's voice, rumbling like distant +thunder: + +"But you went to that room yourself?" + +The Chief's hand made a quick wave at her for silence. Miss Maitland +didn't seem to notice it; she turned to Mrs. Janney and answered: + +"Yes, several times, Mrs. Janney. I'd had to pay the rent in advance and +I had a key, so when I was in town and had time to spare I went there. +It was quiet and convenient—I used to write letters and read." + +"Would you mind telling me why Mr. Chapman Price went there too?" + +It was the Chief's voice this time, quite low and oh, so deep and mild. +Miss Maitland's attitude didn't change, but again her hands clasped and +stayed clasped. She gave a little, provocative smile, almost as if she +was trying to flirt with him, and said: + +"You seem to know a great deal about me and my affairs, Mr. Whitney." + +He returned the smile, good-humored, as if he liked the way she'd come +back at him. + +"A little, Miss Maitland. You see we have had to, unpleasant but still +necessary—you have no objection to answering?" + +"Oh, not the least, only—" her glance swept over the solemn faces of +the others—"I'm afraid Mrs. Janney may not approve of what I've done. I +met Mr. Price there to tell him about Bébita; I was sorry for him, for +the position he was in. He was fond of her and he heard almost nothing +about her. So I arranged to give him news of her, tell him how she was, +and little funny things she had said. It wasn't the right thing to do +but I—I—pitied him so." + +A sound—I can't call it anything but a grunt—came from Mrs. Janney. +Mr. George, still pulling at his mustache, shifted uneasily in his +chair. Beside me I could hear that stifled breathing of Mrs. Price, and +her hand, all covered with rings, stole forward and clasped like a +bird's claw on the chair in front. I don't think Miss Maitland noticed +any of this. Her eyes were on the Chief, fixed and sort of defiant. Her +face had lost its calm look; there were pink spots on her cheek bones. + +"A natural thing to do," said the Chief mildly, "though hardly discreet +considering the situation. But we won't argue about that—we'll pass on +to the business of the moment. Now you told us last time you were here +that you left the taxi in front of Justin's. Inquiries there of the +doorman have elicited the information that he remembers the cab and the +child, and says it was still there when you came out and that you got +into it and drove away." + +"How can the doorman at a place where hundreds of carriages stop every +day remember the people in each one?" All the softness was gone out of +her voice and her face began to look different, as if it had grown +thinner. "It's absurd—he couldn't possibly be sure of every woman and +child who stopped there. My word is against his, and it seems to me I'm +much more likely to know what I did than he is—especially *that* day." + +"Certainly, certainly." The Chief was all kindly understanding. "Under +the circumstances every event of that morning should be impressed on +your memory. But another fact has come up that seems to us curious. One +of our detectives has heard from a clerk in a book bindery at the corner +near 76 Gayle Street, that on Friday last, at about half-past eleven, he +saw a taxi standing at the curb there. He noticed a child in it talking +to the driver and his description of this child, her appearance and +clothes, is a very accurate description of Bébita." + +He looked at her over his glasses, with a sort of ominous, waiting +attention. I'd have wilted under it, but she didn't, only what had been +a restrained quietness gave place to a sort of steely tension. You could +see that her body all over was as rigid as the hands clenched together, +the fingers knotted round each other. It was will and a fighting spirit +that kept her up. I began to feel my own muscles drawing tight, +wondering if she'd get through and praying that she would—I don't know +why. + +"It's quite possible that this man—this clerk—may have seen such a +taxi with such a child in it. There must be a great many little girls in +New York whose description would fit Bébita. I dare say if your +detective had gone about the city he would have heard of any number of +cabs and children that would have fitted just as well. I can't imagine +why you're asking me these questions or why you don't seem to believe +what I say. But even if you don't believe it, that won't prevent me from +sticking to it." + +"A commendable spirit, Miss Maitland, when one is sure of one's facts," +said the Chief, and suddenly pushing back his chair he rose. "Now I've +just one more matter to call to your attention, a little memorandum +here, which, if you'll be good enough to explain, we'll end this rather +trying interview." + +He went over to her, fumbling in his vest pocket, and then drew out my +folded paper and put it into her hand: + +"It's the record of a telephone message received by you yesterday at +Grasslands, and tapped by our detective, Miss Rogers." + +He stepped back and stood leaning against the desk watching her. We all +did; there wasn't an eye in that room which wasn't glued on that +unfortunate girl as she opened the paper and read the words. + +It was a knock-out blow. I knew it would be—I didn't see how it +couldn't—and yet she'd put up such a fight that some way or other I +thought she'd pull out. But that bowled her over like a nine pin. + +She turned as white as the paper and her hands holding it shook so you +could hear it rustle. Then she looked up and her eyes were +awful—hunted, desperate. Yet she made a last frantic effort, with her +face like a death mask and all the breath so gone out of her she had +only a hoarse thread of voice: + +"I—I—don't know what this is—oh, yes, yes, I mean I do. But it—it +refers to something else—it's—it's—that friend of mine—Aggie Brown +from St. Louis—she's come and Mr. Price—" + +She couldn't go on; her lips couldn't get out any words. You could see +the brain behind them had had such a shock it wouldn't work. + +"Miss Maitland," said the Chief, solemn as an executioner, "we've got +you where you can't keep this up. There's no use in these evasions and +denials. Where is Bébita?" + +"I don't know—I don't know anything about her. I swear to Heaven I +don't." + +She raised her voice with the last words and looked at them, round at +those stony faces, wild like an animal cornered. + +"What's the matter with you? Why do you think I'd be a party to such a +thing? Why don't you believe me—why *can't* you believe me? And you +don't—not one of you. You think I'm guilty of this infamous thing. All +right, *think* it. Do what you like with me—arrest me, put me in jail, +I don't care." + +She put her hands over her face and collapsed down in her chair, like a +spring that had held her up had broken. That breathing beside me had +grown so loud it sounded as if it came from some one running the last +lap of a race. Now it suddenly broke into a sound—more like a growl +than anything else—and Mrs. Price got up, shuffling and shaking, her +hands holding on to the chair in front. + +"She ought to be put in jail," she gasped out. "She's bad right +through—everything she's said is a lie. And she's a thief too." + +There was a movement of consternation among them all—getting up, +pushing back chairs, several voices speaking together: + +"Keep quiet." + +"Mrs. Price, I beg of you—" + +"Suzanne, sit down." + +But she went on, looking like a withered old witch, with her bird-like +hands clutched on the chair back: + +"I won't sit down, I won't keep quiet. I've sat here listening to all +this and I've had enough. I'm crazy; my baby's gone; she's taken it, +she's taken everything—" She turned to her mother. "She took your +jewels—I know it." + +Mr. Janney burst in like a bombshell. I never thought he could break +loose that way, with his voice shrill and a shaking finger pointing into +his stepdaughter's face. + +"Stop this. I can't stand for it—I know something about that—I saw—" + +But she wouldn't stop, no one could make her: + +"I saw too, and I'm going to tell you. I don't care what you say, I +don't care what you think of me—my heart's broken and I don't care for +anything but to have my baby back." She addressed her mother again. "*I* +went to take your jewels that night. Yes, I did; I went to steal +them—not all of them—just that long diamond chain you never wear. +*You* know why; you knew I hadn't any money and that I had to have it. I +was going to sell it and put what I got in stocks and if I was lucky buy +it back so you'd never know. It was *I* who took Bébita's torch—that's +why it was lost—and I went down to the safe. I'd found the combination +in a drawer in the library and learnt it. And when I opened it +everything was gone. Some one had been there before me, the cases were +all together in their box but they were empty." She clawed at the +embroidered purse hanging on her arm and began to jerk at the cord, +pulling it open. "But I found something, something the thief had +dropped, lying on the floor just inside the door." She drew out a twist +of tissue paper, and unrolling it held it toward the Chief; "I found +*that*." + +He took it, scrutinizing it, puzzled, through his glasses. Every one of +us except Miss Maitland, all standing now, craned forward to see. It was +a pointed pink thing about as big as the end of my little finger. The +Chief touched it and said: + +"It looks like a small rose." + +"Yes, a chiffon rosebud," Mrs. Price cried, "and she," pointing to Miss +Maitland, "wore a dress that night trimmed with them." + +We all turned, as if we were a piece of mechanism worked by the same +spring, and stared at Miss Maitland. She sat in the chair, not moving, +looking straight before her, weary and indifferent. The Chief held out +toward her the piece of paper with the rose on the middle of it. + +"Have you a dress trimmed with these?" + +She moved her eyes so they rested on the rose, ran her tongue along her +lips and said: + +"Yes." + +"Did you wear it on the night of the robbery?" + +"Yes." + +"Did you hear what Mrs. Price has just said?" + +"Yes." + +"What explanation do you make?" + +"None—except that I don't know how it got there." + +"You deny that you were there yourself that night?" + +"Yes—I was never near the safe that night; I haven't the slightest idea +how the rose came to be in it; I never took the jewels; I have had +nothing to do with Bébita's disappearance; I haven't done any of the +things you think I've done. But what's the good of my saying so—what's +the good of answering at all?" She dropped her face into her hands, her +elbows propped on her knees. The attitude, the tone of her voice, +everything about her, suggested an "Oh-what's-the-use!" feeling. From +behind her hands the words came dull and listless. "Do anything you like +with me; it doesn't make any difference. You think you've got me +cornered; that being the case, I'll do whatever you say." + +Mrs. Janney made a step toward her: + +"Miss Maitland, I'll agree to let the whole matter drop—hush it up and +let you go without a word—if you'll tell us where Bébita is." + +Without moving her hands the girl answered: + +"I can't tell, for I don't know." + +Mrs. Price sank into her chair with a loud, sobbing wail. Some one took +her away—Mr. George, I think. Then Mr. Janney had his say: + +"If you're doing this to protect Price—" + +She cut him off with a laugh, at least it was meant to be a laugh, but +it was a horrible, harsh sound. As she gave it she lifted her head and +cast a look at him, bitter and defiant: + +"Protect him! I've no more desire to protect Mr. Price than I have to +protect myself." + +The Chief's voice fell deep as the church bell at a funeral: + +"If you maintain this attitude, Miss Maitland, there's nothing for us to +do but let the law take its course. Theft and kidnaping! Those are +pretty serious charges." + +She nodded: + +"I suppose they are. Let the law do whatever it wants; I'm certainly not +standing in its way. But as for bribing and frightening me into +admitting what isn't true, you can't do it. All your money," she looked +at Mrs. Janney and then at the Chief, "and all *your* threats won't +influence me or make me change one word of what I've said." + +No one spoke for a minute. She sat silent, her chin on her hands, her +eyes staring past them out of the window. I had a feeling that in spite +of the position she was in and what they had on her, in a sort of way +she had them beaten. Their faces were glum and baffled, even the Chief +had an abstracted expression like he was thinking what he ought to do +with her. When he spoke it was to the Janneys: + +"Since Miss Maitland persists in her present pose of ignorance and +denial, the best thing for us is to get together and decide on our +course of action." He glanced across at me. "We'll leave you here, +Molly. Stay till we come back." + +Away they went, a solemn procession, trailing across the room. When the +door into the main office opened I could hear Mrs. Price crying, and I +watched them, catching Mrs. Janney's words as she disappeared: "Oh, +Suzanne, my poor, poor, girl! Don't give up—don't be discouraged—we'll +find her!" + +It gripped me, made a sort of prickling come in my nose and a twisty +feeling in my under lip. I never could have believed that stern old +Roman could have spoken so tender and loving to any one. + +When I looked at Miss Maitland I forgot all about suffering mothers. +She'd sunk down in the chair, her head resting against its back, her +eyes closed. She was as white as a corpse, and I wheeled about looking +round the room for some kind of first aid and muttering, "Gee, she's +fainted!" + +A whisper came out of her lips: + +"Nothing—all right—in a minute." + +There was a bottle of distilled water in a corner and I went to it, drew +off a glass and brought it to her. She couldn't hold it and I took her +round the shoulders and pulled her up, saying out of the inner depths +of me, that's always mushy about anything hurt and forlorn: + +"You, poor soul, here take this. I'm sorry for you, and I can't help +being sorry that I had to give you away." + +I held the glass to her lips and she drank a little. Then I let her fall +back and stood watching her, and I felt mean. She raised her eyes and +sent a look into mine that I'll never forget—it made me feel meaner +than a yellow dog—for it was the look of a suffering soul. + +"Thanks," was all she said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI—SIGNED "CLANSMEN" +============================= + +The consultation in the office resulted in Esther Maitland being taken +to O'Malley's flat in Stuyvesant Square, where his wife and sister +agreed to be responsible for her. This course had been decided upon +after some heated argument. Suzanne had clamored for her arrest, but the +others were still determined to keep the affair out of the public eye, +which, if Esther was brought before a magistrate, would have been +impossible. The Janneys were more than ever convinced that Price was the +prime mover, and the girl's attitude had been prompted by the combined +motives of love and gain. George, who knew his father's every phase, +noticed that the old man was reserved in his comments, and wondered if +his conviction had been shaken by Miss Maitland's desperate denials. But +if it was he said nothing, agreeing that with the girl hidden and unable +to communicate with the outside world, they could concentrate their +attention on Chapman and through him locate the child. + +Miss Maitland was docile to all their suggestions. She would go +wherever they wanted, place herself under the surveillance of the two +women, and do whatever was asked of her. She went off in a taxi with +O'Malley, and Molly was sent back to Grasslands. There was no need of +her services in town and it was probable that Chapman, believing his +confederate to be there, would call up the place. + +The Janney party returned to the hotel, a silent, gloomy trio. The old +people were very gentle to Suzanne. On the drive up, Mrs. Janney held +her in the hollow of her arm, pressed close, yearning over her in her +shame and sorrow and feebleness. To the strong woman she was a child +again, a soft, helpless thing. The mother blamed herself for having been +hard on her. + +After lunch old Sam suggested a drive—the air would do them good. They +tried to persuade Suzanne to come, but the young woman, prone on the +sofa, a salts bottle at hand, refused to stir. She wanted to be quiet; +she wanted to rest. So, knowing the uselessness of argument, they kissed +her and went. + +Alone, she lay on her back staring at the wall in a trance-like +concentration. Her expression did not suggest the state of crushed shame +under which her parents thought she languished. In fact her past actions +had no place in her mind; she had forgotten her confession in the +office. An idea, formidable and obsessing, had taken possession of her, +settled on her like a shadow. It was possible that their conclusions +were wrong. + +She had had it from the start, off and on, coming at her in rushes of +disintegrating doubt. She had said nothing about it, had tried to force +it down, and, talking to them, had been reassured by their unquestioning +certainty. Now the scene in the office had strengthened it—something +about Esther Maitland, she didn't know what. She had assured herself +then—she tried to do it now—that there could be no mistake, they had +proofs, the girl hadn't been able to explain anything. But she could not +argue it away; it persisted, stronger than thought, power or will, +unescapable like the horror of a dream. + +It came from an instinct that kept whispering deep down in the recesses +of her being, "Chapman couldn't have done it." She knew him better than +the others did, the vagaries of his ugly temper, the lines his +weaknesses ran upon. She knew him through and through, to what lengths +anger might urge him, what he could do when aroused and what he never +could do. And trying to convince herself of his guilt, marshaling the +facts against him, going over them point by point, she couldn't make +herself believe that he had stolen Bébita. + +And if he hadn't, then where was she? + +This was the hideous thought, pressing in upon her recognition, +intrusive as Banquo's ghost and as terrible. She writhed under its +torment, twisting and turning until her clothes were wound about her in +a tangled coil, moaning as her imagination touched at and recoiled from +grisly possibilities. + +She was lying thus when the door-bell rang. Glad of any interruption she +sat up, and, swinging her feet to the floor, called out a sharp "Come +in." A bell-boy entered with a letter which he presented with the +information that Mr. Janney had ordered all mail to be brought +immediately to the rooms. The letter was for her, addressed in +typewriting, and as the boy withdrew she rose, heavy-eyed and +heavy-headed, and tore open the envelope. The first line brought a thin, +choked cry out of her, and then she stood motionless, her glance +devouring the words. Dated the day before, typewritten on a single sheet +of commercial paper, it ran as follows: + + "Mrs. Suzanne Price, + + ":small-caps:`Dear Madam:` + + "We have your little girl. She is safe with us and will continue + to be if you act in good faith and accede to our demands. We + frankly state that our object in taking her was ransom and we + are now ready to enter upon negotiations with you. This, + however, only upon certain conditions. All transactions between + us must be conducted with absolute secrecy. If any member of + your family is told, if the police are notified, be assured + that we will know it, and that it will react upon your child. + Let it be clearly understood—if you inform against us, if you + make an attempt to trap or apprehend us, she will pay the + price. We hold her as a hostage; her fate is in your hands. If, + however, you know of a person in no wise involved or connected + with you or your family, having no personal interest in the + matter, and of whose discretion and reliability you are + convinced, we are willing to deal through them. Copy the form + below, fill in blank spaces with name and address and insert in + *Daily Record* personals. + + "(Name).................................. + + "(Address)............................... + + "S. O. S. + + ":small-caps:`Clansmen.`" + +Suzanne's hand holding the paper dropped to her side and she looked +about the room with eyes vacant and unseeing. All her outward forces +were shocked into temporary suspension; for a moment she had no +realization of where or who she was. The letter was the only fact she +recognized and sentences from it chased through her consciousness: "We +hold her as a hostage, her fate is in your hands. She is safe with us if +you accede to our demands." She saw them written on the walls, they +boomed in her ears like notes of doom. It was confirmation of that +instinct she had tried to smother; like the wand of a baleful genii it +had transformed her nightmare fancies into sinister reality. + +She felt a shriek rising to her lips and pressed her hand against them. +Secrecy, silence, her stunned brain had grasped that and directed her +restraining hand. Then the one deep feeling of her shallow nature +called her shattered faculties into order. Love lent her power, +steadied her, gave her the will to act. + +She sat down on the sofa and read the letter again, slowly, getting its +full significance. For the first time in her life responsibility was +cast upon her; she could throw the burden on no one else. By her own +efforts, by her own courage and initiative, she must get Bébita back. +She whispered it over, "I must do it. I must do it myself," then fell +silent, her face stony in its tension of thought. Suddenly its rigidity +broke; in an illuminating flash she saw the first step clear, and rising +ran to the telephone. The person she called up was Larkin. He answered +himself and she told him she wanted to see him on a matter of great +importance and would come at once to his office. + +Fifteen minutes later, her face hidden by a chiffon veil, her rumpled +smartness covered with a silk motor coat, she was knocking at his door. + +Mr. Larkin's office was cool and shady, the blinds half lowered to keep +out the glare of the afternoon sun. In the midst of its airy neatness, +surrounded by an imposing array of desks, card cabinets, typewriters and +files, Mr. Larkin was waiting alone for his important client. + +She dropped into the chair he set for her, and, pushing up her veil, +revealed a countenance so bereft of the petulant prettiness he knew, +that he started and stood gazing in open concern. The sight of his +astonishment caused the tears to well into Suzanne's eyes, drowned and +sunken by past floods, and her story to break without prelude from her +lips. + +Larkin's surprise at her appearance gave place to a tight-gripped +interest when he grasped the main fact of her narrative. He let her run +through it without interruption nodding now and then, a frowning +sidelong glance on her face. + +When she had finished he drew a deep breath and said: + +"The moment I saw you, I knew something was wrong. But this—" he raised +his hands and let them drop on the desk—"Good Lord! I hadn't an idea it +was anything so serious." + +But she hadn't finished—the worst, the thing that had brought her—she +had yet to tell. And she began about the letter received an hour ago. At +that Larkin forgot his sympathies, was the detective again, hardly +concealing his impatience as he watched her fumbling at the cords of her +purse. Finally extracted and given to him he read it, once and then +again, Suzanne eyeing him like a hungry dog. + +"Last evening," he muttered after a scrutiny of the postmark, "Grand +Central Station." Then he rose, went to the window and, jerking up the +blind, held the paper against the light, sniffed at it, and felt its +texture between his thumb and finger. Suzanne saw him shake his head, +her avid glance following him as he came back to the desk and studied +the sheet through a magnifying glass. + +"Nothing to be got that way," he said. "Typepaper—impossible to trace. +No amateur business about this." + +Suzanne's voice was husky: + +"Do you mean it's professional people—a gang?" + +"I can't say exactly. But from what you tell me—the way it was +accomplished, the plan of action—I should be inclined to think it was +the work of more than one person—possibly a group—who had ability and +experience." + +Suzanne, clutching at the corner of the desk with a trembling hand, +cried in her misery: + +"Oh, Mr. Larkin, you don't think they'll hurt her. They wouldn't *dare* +to hurt her?" + +The detective's glance was kindly but grave: + +"Mrs. Price, I'll speak frankly. I think your child is in the hands of a +pretty desperate person or persons. But I have no apprehension that +they'll do her any harm. They don't want to do that—it's too dangerous. +What they might do if their plans fail is a thing we'll not +consider—it'll only weaken your nerve. And that's what you've got to +keep hold of. You'll get her back all right, but you must be cool and +brave." + +"I'll be anything; I'll be like another person. I'll *do* anything. No +one need be afraid I'll be weak or silly *now*." + +"Good—that's the way to talk. Now let me know a little about the way +the situation stands. It's odd I've seen nothing about this in the +papers—heard nothing. Your family must be active in some direction. +What are they doing?" + +A sudden color burnt in her wasted cheeks. + +"They suspect my husband. They think he did it—to—to—get square. We'd +quarreled—separated—and he'd made threats." + +"Ah, yes, yes, I see—kidnaped his own child, and they're keeping it +quiet. I understand perfectly. But *you* didn't believe this?" + +She shook her head and bit on her underlip to control its trembling. + +"No—I couldn't, though I tried to. I knew he wouldn't have done +it—it's not—it's not—like him. And then while I was thinking the +letter came, and I knew, no matter what they thought, no matter what the +facts were, that *that* was true." + +"Um," Larkin, his mouth compressed, nodded in understanding. "You would +know better than any one else. In these matters instinct is one of the +most important factors." He was silent for a moment, then looked at her, +a glance of piercing question. "Do I understand that you are willing to +enter into these negotiations?" + +"Willing!" she cried. "Why should I be here if I wasn't willing?" + +"Yes, yes, exactly, but let us understand one another. What I mean is +are you willing—realizing what they are—to deal with them on their own +terms? In short, pay them what they ask and let them go?" + +"Of course." She almost cried it out in her effort to make him +comprehend her position. "*That's* what I want to do; that's why I +haven't told any of my own people and won't. I'd have gone straight to +my mother with this but I knew she wouldn't agree to it, she'd get the +police, want to fight them and bring them to justice." + +"Could you be relied on to maintain the secrecy necessary?" + +"I can be relied on for anything. Oh, Mr. Larkin, if you knew what I +feel you wouldn't waste time asking these questions." + +He answered very gently: + +"Mrs. Price, I appreciate your feelings to the full, but this is a +hazardous undertaking. You don't want to rush into it without realizing +what it means. There is the question of money for example—the ransom. +Your family is known for its wealth. You can be pretty certain that the +parties you're dealing with will hold the child for a large sum." + +Suzanne clasped her hands on her breast and the tears, brimming in her +eyes, spilled over, falling in a trickle down her cheeks. + +"Oh, what's money!" she wailed. "I'd give all the money I have, I've +ever had, I ever thought of having, to get my baby back." + +Larkin was moved. He looked away from that pitiful, quivering face and +his voice showed a slight huskiness as he answered: + +"Well, that's all right, Mrs. Price—and don't take it so hard, don't +let your fears get the upper hand. There's no harm can come to her; it's +to their interest to take care of her. If we do our part cleverly, +follow their instructions and keep our heads, you'll have her back in no +time." He stopped, arrested by a sudden thought. "I say 'we,' but maybe +I'm presupposing too much. Was it your intention to ask for my +assistance?" + +She dashed her tears away and leaned forward in eager urgence: + +"Of course—that's why I came. And you will give it—you will? The +letter says it has to be some one having no ties or interests with the +family—some one I could trust. I couldn't think of any one at first, +and then when I remembered you it was like an inspiration. Oh, you must +do it—I'll pay you anything if you will." + +Larkin's face satisfied her; she dropped back with a moan of relief. + +"I'll undertake it willingly—not only to give you any help I can, but +because it will be a good thing for me. Don't be shocked at my plain +speaking, but I want to be frank and straight with you. I'm not +referring to pay—we can arrange about that later—it's work done for +the Janney family, successful work. And with your coöperation, Mrs. +Price, this is going to be successful. Now let's get to business." He +picked up the letter and glanced over it. "Headed 'Clansmen' and signed +'S. O. S.' I'll copy it, insert my name and address, and have it in +to-morrow's *Daily Record*. Then we'll see what happens." + +He smiled at her, reassuring and kindly. There was no response in her +tragic face. + +"It may be days before they answer," she murmured. + +But he was determined to uphold her fainting spirit. + +"I think not. They want to end this thing as quickly as they can—get +their loot and go. You've got to remember that their position is +terribly dangerous and at the first sign from us they'll get busy." + +She rose, took the letter and put it in her purse: + +"I hope to Heaven you're right. It's so awful to wait." + +"I don't think you'll have to. They'll see our answer to-morrow morning +and I'll expect a move from them by that evening or the next day. If +they communicate with me, I'll let you know at once, and if you hear, do +the same by me. It's going to be all right. Keep up your courage and +remember—not a word or a sign to any one." + +"Oh, I know," she said, drawing down her veil with limp hands, "you +needn't be afraid I'll spoil it. You thought me a fool, perhaps, when I +first consulted you, and I *was*, bothering about things that didn't +matter—jewels! There isn't one of us that hasn't forgotten all about +them now. Good-by. No, don't come out with me. I have a taxi waiting." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII—SUZANNE FINDS A FRIEND +=================================== + +On Monday evening Ferguson heard from Molly of the scene in the Whitney +office. He was incredulous and enraged, refusing to accept what she +insisted were irrefutable proofs of Esther's guilt. + +"What do I care about your 'phone messages and your suppositions!" he +had almost shouted at her. "What do I care about what you *think*. You +say she didn't answer the charges—she did, she denied them. That's +enough for me." + +There was no use arguing with him, he was beyond reason. She lapsed into +silence, letting him rage on, seething in his wrath at the Janneys, the +Whitneys, herself. When he tried to find out where Esther was, she was +obdurate—\ *that* she couldn't tell him. All the satisfaction he got was +that Miss Maitland was not under arrest, that she was "put away +somewhere" and had agreed to the arrangement. He left, too angry for +good-nights, with a last scattering of maledictions, leaping down the +steps and swinging off across the garden. + +The next morning he telephoned in to the St. Boniface Hotel and heard +that the Janney party were out. Then he tried the Whitney office, got +George on the wire, and was told brusquely that Miss Maitland's +whereabouts could not be divulged to any one. He spent the rest of the +day in a state of morose disquiet, denying himself to visitors, short +and surly with his servants. Willitts was solicitous, inquired after his +health and was told to go to the devil. In the kitchen quarters they +talked about his queer behavior; the butler was afraid he'd had "a touch +of sun." + +Wednesday wore through to the early afternoon and his inaction became +unendurable. He decided to go into town, look up the Janneys and force +them to tell him where Esther was. He laid upon his spirit a cautioning +charge of self-control; he must keep his head and his temper, use +strategy before coercion. He had no idea of what he intended doing when +he did find her, but the idea of getting to her, seeing her, championing +her, transformed his moody restlessness into a savage energy. His +servants flew before his commands; in the garage the chauffeur muttered +angrily as orders to hurry were shouted at him from the drive. + +Tuesday had been a day of strain for the Janneys. According to the +telephone message, that night Chapman was to move the child from the +city. He had been under a close surveillance for the two preceding days, +and every depot and ferry housed watching detectives. Hope ran high +until after midnight when reports and 'phone messages came dropping in +upon the group congregated in the library of the Whitney house. No child +resembling Bébita had left the city at any of the guarded points. +Chapman had been in his office all day, had dined at a hotel and +afterward had gone to his rooms and remained there. The plan of moving +her had either been abandoned or had been intrusted to unknown parties +who had taken her by motor through the city's northern end. + +On Wednesday morning a consultation had been held at the Whitney office. +This had been stormy, developing the first disagreements in what had +been a unity of opinion. Mr. Janney was for going to Chapman and +demanding the child and was seconded by the elder Whitney. Mrs. Janney +was in opposition. She had no fear for Bébita's welfare—Chapman could +be trusted to care for her—and maintained that a direct appeal to him +would be an admission of weakness and place them at his mercy. In her +opinion he would threaten exposure—he was shameless—or make an offer +of a financial settlement. George agreed with her; from the start he had +thought Chapman was actuated less by a desire for vengeance than a hope +of gain. Mrs. Janney, thus backed up, became adamant. She would have no +dealings with him, would run him to earth, and when he was caught, crush +and ruin him. + +Suzanne had listened to it all very silent and taking neither side. Her +hunted air was set down to mental strain and she was allowed to remain +an unconsulted spectator, treated by everybody with subdued gentleness. +Back in the hotel, Mrs. Janney had suggested a doctor, but her querulous +pleadings to be let alone had conquered, and the old people had gone for +their afternoon drive, leaving her in the curtained quietness of the +sitting room. + +The door was hardly shut on them when she drew out of her belt a letter. +She had found it in her room on her return from the office and had read +it there before lunch. It was a prompter answer than she had dared to +hope for. + + "Mrs. Suzanne Price, + + ":small-caps:`Dear Madam`: + + "In answer to your ad. we would say that we are willing to deal + through the agent you name. We take your word for it that he is + to be trusted, that both you and he understand any attempt to + betray us will be visited on your child. + + "*Remember Charley Ross!* + + "The sum necessary for her release will be thirty thousand + dollars. On payment of this we will deliver her over at a time + and place to be specified later. If you agree to our terms + insert following ad. in the *Daily Record*. 'John—O. K. See + you later. Mary.' + + "(Signed) :small-caps:`Clansmen`." + +On the second perusal of this ominous document Suzanne felt the +strangling rush of dread, the breathless contraction of the heart, that +had seized her when she first read it. Horrors had piled on horrors—as +she had risen to each new step of her progress up this Via Dolorosa, +another more fearful and unsurmountable had faced her. When she had +spoken to Larkin of the money she had never thought of it, how much it +might be, how she was to get it. Now, with a stunning impact, she was +brought against the appalling fact that she had none of her own and did +not dare ask her mother for any. + +There was no use in lies; she had lied too much and too diversely to be +believed. She would have to tell what it was for, and she knew the mood +in which her mother would meet the demand. Money would be +forthcoming—any amount—but Mrs. Janney, with her iron nerve and her +implacable spirit, would never consent to a tame submission. Suzanne +knew that her fortune and her energies would be spent in an effort to +apprehend the criminals, and Suzanne had not the courage to take a +chance. All she wanted was Bébita, back in her arms again, the fiends +who had taken her could go free. + +She sat down, pushing the damp hair from her forehead and trying to +think. One fact stood out in the midst of her blind, confused suffering. +She could not go to Larkin till she had the thirty thousand dollars. +Every moment she sat there was a moment lost, a moment added to Bébita's +term of imprisonment. She stared about the room, the gleam of her +shifting eyes, the rise and fall of her breast, the only movements in +her stone-still figure. + +Suddenly, piercing her tense preoccupation with a buzzing note, came the +sound of the telephone. It made her jump, then mechanically, hardly +conscious of her action, she rose to answer it. A woman's voice, +languidly nasal, came along the wire: + +"Mr. Richard Ferguson is calling." + +"Send him up," she gasped and fumbled back the receiver with a shaking +hand. With the other she steadied herself against the wall; the room had +swung for a moment, blurred before her vision. She closed her eyes and +breathed out her relief in a moaning exhalation. It was like an answer +to prayer, like the finger of God. + +Of course Dick was the person—Dick who could always be trusted, who +could always understand. He would give it and say nothing; she could +make him. He was not like the others—he would sympathize, would agree +with her, in trouble he was a rock to cling to. A broken series of +answers to unput questions coursed through her head; she could go to +Larkin now—she needn't tell him how she'd got it, he thought she was +rich—after it was all over her mother would pay Dick back—in a few +days she'd have Bébita, the kidnapers would have made their escape—and +it would be all right, all right, all right! + +Ferguson had come up, grim-visaged, steeled for battle, but when he saw +her his fighting spirit died. There was nothing left of her but a +blighted shadow, the cloud of golden hair crowning in gay mockery her +drawn and haggard face. Before he could speak she made a clutch at his +arm, drawing him into the room, babbling a broken greeting about wanting +him, wanting his help. He put his hand on hers and felt it trembling; he +would not have been surprised if she had dropped unconscious at his +feet. + +"Lord, Suzanne, you don't want to take it this way," he soothed, guiding +her to the sofa. "You must get hold of yourself; you've been brooding +too much. Of course I'll help you—anything I can do—and we'll get her +back, it'll be only a few days." He didn't know what to say, he was so +sorry for her. + +She was past parleys and preliminaries, past coquetry and artifice. The +whole of her had resolved itself into one raw longing, and before they +were seated on the sofa, she had broken into her story. He didn't at +first believe her, thought grief had unsettled her brain, but when she +thrust the two letters into his hand all doubts left him. + +He read them slowly, word by word, then turned upon her a face so +charged and vitalized with a fierce interest that, had she been able to +see beyond the circle of her own pain, she would have wondered. If he +forgot to ask for Esther's hiding place it was because the larger matter +of her vindication had swept all else from his mind. The proofs of her +innocence were in his hands; he did not for a moment doubt their +genuineness. + +It was what he had thought from the first. + +His manner changed from that of the sympathizing friend to one of stern +authority. He shot questions at her, tabulating her answers, discarding +cumbering detail, seizing on the important fact and separating it from +the jumble of confused impressions and fancies that she poured out. A +few inquiries set Larkin's position clear before him. The money he +dismissed with a curt sentence; of course he would give it, she wasn't +to think of that any more. + +"Thank heaven you decided on me," he said. "I'll straighten this out for +you and I'll do it quick." + +She was ready to take fright at anything and his eagerness scared her. + +"But you'll not do anything they don't want? You'll not tell the police +or try to catch them?" + +He had seen from the start that she was dominated by terror, as the +kidnapers had intended she should be: and seeing this had recognized +her as a negligible factor. To keep her quiet, soothe her fears, and +employ her services just so far as they were helpful was what he had to +do with her. What he had to do without her was shaping itself in his +mind. + +"You can rely on me. I won't make any breaks. And *you* have to be +careful, not a word about me to this man Larkin. He must think the money +is yours." + +She assured him of her discretion and he felt he could trust her that +far. + +"Now listen," he said slowly and impressively as if he was speaking to a +child, "we've both got to go very charily. A good deal of the +threat-stuff in these letters is bluff, but also men who would undertake +an enterprise of this kind are pretty tough customers and we don't want +to take any risks. When I'm gone you drive over to Larkin's, tell him +you have the money for the ransom, and to put in the ad. As soon as +either you or he get an answer let me know. I'll be at Council Oaks; +I'll go back there now. It's probable you're watched and if they saw me +hanging about here they might think I was in the game and take fright. +Do you understand?" + +She nodded: + +"Yes, you've put some courage into me. I was ready to die when you came +in." + +"Well, that's over now. What you've got to do is to follow my +instructions, keep your nerve and have a little patience." + +He smiled down at her as she sat, a huddled heap of finery, on the edge +of the sofa. She tried to return the smile, a grimace of the lips that +did not touch her somber eyes. No man, least of all Dick Ferguson, could +have been angry with her. + +"She was crazy," he said to himself as he walked down the hall. "They +were all crazy and I guess they had enough to make them so. I'll get the +child back, and when I do, I'll make them bite the dust before my girl." + +Several people who knew him saw Dick Ferguson driving his black car down +Fifth Avenue late that afternoon. He saw none of them, steering his way +through the traffic, his eyes fixed on the vista in front. He stopped at +Delmonico's for an early dinner, telling the waiter to bring him +anything that was ready, then sat with frowning brows staring at his +plate. Here again were people who knew him and wondered at his gloomy +abstraction—not a bit like Ferguson, must have something on his mind. + +Night was falling as he crossed the Queensborough bridge, a smoldering +glow along the west glazing the surface of the river. When he left the +straggling outskirts of Brooklyn and reached the open country the dark +had come, deep and velvety, a few bright star points pricking through +the cope of the sky. He lowered his speed, his glance roving ahead to +the road and its edging grasses, startlingly clear under the radiance of +his lamps. + +Round him the country brooded in its rest, silence lying on the pale +surface of fields, on the black indistinctness of trees. Here and there +the lights of farms shone, caught and lost through shielding boughs, and +the clustered sparklings of villages. The air was heavy with scents, the +breath of clover knee-high in the grass, grain still giving off the +warmth of the afternoon sun, and the delicate sweetness of the wild +grape draped over the roadside trees. All this night loveliness in its +fragrant quietness, its rich and penetrating beauty, reminded him of +her. He looked up at the sky, and its calm and steadfast splendor came +to him with a new meaning. She was related to it all, in tune with the +eternal harmonies, part of everything that was stainless and noble and +pure. And he would show the world that she was, clear her of every spot, +place her where she would be as far from suspicion, as serenely above +the meanness of her accusers, as the stars in the crystal depths of the +sky. + +When he reached Council Oaks he had a vision of her, belonging there, a +piece of its life. He saw a future, when, coming back like this to its +friendly doors, she would be waiting on the balcony to greet him. There +was no one there now; the house was still, its lights shining across the +pebbled drive. Obsessed by his thoughts, he jumped out, and leaving the +car at the steps, entered. From the kitchen wing he could hear the +servants' voices raised in cheerful clamor. Crossing the hall, he had a +glimpse through the dining room door of the table, set and waiting for +him, two lamps flanking his place. He had no mind for food and went +upstairs, dreams still holding him. In his room he switched on the +lights and his vacant glance, sweeping the bureau, brought up on the box +with the crystal lid. + +In his mind the robbery had faded into a background of inconsequential +things. It had become a side issue, a thread in the tangled skein he had +pledged himself to unravel. When Molly had told him of the evidence +against Esther his interest had centered on the charge of kidnaping—the +monstrous and unbelievable charge of which she almost stood convicted. +Even now, as he looked at the box and remembered what he had hidden +there, it came to his memory not as another weapon to be used in her +defense, but as a souvenir of the moment when his present passion had +flamed into life. A picture rose of that night, the silver moon +spatterings, her hand, white in the white light, with the band on its +third finger. He opened the box to take it out—it was not there. + +He had seen it a few days before, was certain he had, shook up the +contents, then overturned the box, strewing the studs and pins on the +bureau. But it was fruitless—the band, crushed and flattened as he +remembered it, was gone. He muttered an angry phrase, its loss came as a +jar on the exaltation of his mood. Then a soft step on the staircase +caught his ear, and looking up he saw Willitts' head rise into view. The +man came down the passage and spoke with his customary quiet deference: + +"I saw the car outside, sir, and knew you'd come back. Would you like +dinner—the cook says she can have it ready in a minute?" + +"No," Ferguson's voice was short, "I dined in town. Look here, I've lost +something—" he pointed to the scattered jewelry—"I had a cigar band in +that box and it's gone. Did you see it?" + +Willitts looked at the box and shook his head: + +"No, sir. A cigar band, a thing made of paper?" There was the faintest +suggestion of surprise in his voice. + +"Yes, you must have seen it. It was there a few days ago, underneath all +that truck—I saw it myself." + +The man again shook his head and, moving to the bureau, began to shift +the toilet articles and look among them. + +"I'm afraid I didn't see it, sir, or if I did I didn't notice. Maybe +it's got strayed away somewhere." + +He continued his search, Ferguson watching him with moody irritation: + +"What the devil could have happened to it? I put it in there myself, put +it in that particular place for safekeeping." + +Willitts, feeling about the bureau with careful fingers, said: + +"Was it of any *value*, sir?" + +"Yes," Ferguson having little hope of finding it turned away and threw +himself into a chair, "it was of great value. I wouldn't have lost it +for anything. It was evidence—" he stopped, growling a smothered +"Damn." He had said enough; he didn't want the servants chattering. + +"I'm very sorry, sir, but it doesn't seem to be here. Perhaps the +chambermaid threw it away, thinking it had got in the box by mistake." + +"I daresay—it sounds likely. I wish the people in this house would let +my room alone, control their mad desire for neatness and leave things +where I put them. Have the car taken to the garage, I'm not coming down +again. If any one calls up I'm out. Good-night." + +"Good-night, sir," said Willitts, and softly withdrew. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII—MOLLY'S STORY +=========================== + +After that Monday night when he went off in a rage, Ferguson didn't show +up at Grasslands for several days and I had the place to myself and all +the time I wanted. Believe me, I wanted a lot and made use of it. While +the others were concentrating on the kidnaping—the big thing that had +absorbed all their interest—I went back to the job I was engaged for, +the robbery. And I went back with a fresh eye, the old idea cleared out +of my head by Mrs. Price's confession. + +She'd explained the light, the light by the safe at one-thirty. With +that out of the way, I could get busy on the cigar band. I was just +aching to do it, for, as I'd told Ferguson, it was an A1 starting +point. Given that, there's nothing more exciting in the world than +tracking up from it, following different leads, seeing if they'll +dovetail, putting bits together like a picture puzzle. + +So I started in and for two days collected data, ferreted into the +movements of every person on the place, gossiped round in the village, +picked up a bit here and a scrap there, and made notes at night in my +room. I broke down Dixon's dignity and had a long talk with him; I got +Ellen to show me how to knit a sweater and before I'd learnt had her +inside out. I spent two hours and broke my best scissors spoiling the +lock of the bookcase in my room and had Isaac up to try keys on it. When +I was done I knew the movements of everybody in the house on the night +of July seventh as if I'd personally conducted each one through that +important and exciting evening. + +It wasn't love of the work alone, or the feeling that I ought to earn my +salary, that pushed me on. There was something else—I wanted to clear +Esther Maitland. I wanted it bad. I kept thinking of her eyes looking at +me when I gave her the drink of water and it made me sort of sick. In my +thoughts I kept telling my husband about it, and I always tried to make +out I'd acted very smart and some way or other I knew he wouldn't think +so. It wasn't that I felt guilty—I'd done nothing but what I was hired +for—but there's a meanness about beating a person down, there's a +meanness about staring into their white, twisted face and saying, +"Ha—Ha—you're cornered and I did it!" You have to be awfully good +yourself to do that sort of thing. + +Thursday morning I'd got all I could and with my notes and my fountain +pen I went out on the side piazza by Miss Maitland's study; there was a +table there and it was quiet and secluded. So I fixed everything +convenient and set to work. Taking the cigar band as the central point I +built up from it something like this: + +It had been dropped by a man—so few women smoke cigars you could put +that down as certain. It had been dropped between half-past eight when +the storm stopped and half-past ten when Miss Maitland found it. The man +could not be Mr. Janney who had driven both ways, nor Dixon or Isaac who +had walked to the village by the road and come back the same route. It +couldn't have been Otto the chauffeur as he had stayed at Ferguson's +garage visiting there with Ferguson's men. The head gardener had gone to +the movies with the other Grasslands servants, and the under gardeners +had been in their own homes in the village as I had taken pains to find +out. Therefore it was no man living on the place at that time. + +But that it was some one who was familiar with the house and its +interior workings was proved by two facts:—that the dogs, heard to +start barking, had suddenly quieted down, and that a rose from Miss +Maitland's dress had been found inside the safe. + +An expert burglar could have got round all the rest, had a key to the +front door, worked out the combination—the house was virtually empty +for over two hours—it was known that the family and servants were out. +But the most expert burglar in the world couldn't have controlled those +dogs—Mrs. Price's Airdale was as savage to strangers as a wolf and had +a bark on it like a steam calliope. + +The rose figured as a proof this way: It had been put inside the safe to +throw suspicion on Miss Maitland, the thief was aware that she knew the +combination. This would argue that he was acquainted with the habits of +the household. All social secretaries are not given the leeway Miss +Maitland was; all social secretaries aren't given the combination of a +safe where two hundred thousand dollars' worth of jewels are kept. The +man knew she had it, and tried to fix the guilt on her. Where his plan +slipped up was Mrs. Price coming later, finding the rose, salting it +down in a piece of tissue paper, and, for some reason of her own, not +saying a word about it. + +How did he get the rose? As far as I could see there was just one way. +Esther Maitland had spent part of the afternoon of July the seventh +altering her evening dress. Ellen had pinned it up on her and she'd +taken the waist down to her study to sew on as her room was too hot. +When she'd gone upstairs again—it was Ellen who gave me all this—she'd +left part of the trimming on the desk. The next morning the parlor maid +had given it to Ellen—all cut and picked apart, some of the roses +loose in a cardboard box—to put in Miss Maitland's room. It had lain on +the desk all night and, in my opinion, the thief had either known it was +there or found it, taken the rose, and made his "plant" with it. + +Now one man who would be familiar to the dogs and might know Miss +Maitland's privileges and habits, was Chapman Price. But it wasn't he, +for at nine-thirty, the hour when the thief was busy, Mr. Price was +crossing the Queensborough bridge, headed for New York. And anyway, if +he hadn't been, you couldn't suspect him of trying to lay the blame on +the girl who was his partner. No—Chapman Price was wiped off the map +with all the rest of the Grasslands crowd. + +When I'd got this far I sat biting my pen handle and sizing it up. A +thief, professional, had taken the jewels. He was some one unknown, +having no connection with Mr. Price or Miss Maitland. The two crimes +that had nearly shaken the Janney family off its throne had been +committed by different parties. I was as sure of that as that the sun +would rise to-morrow. + +After dinner that evening I went out on the balcony and sat there, +turning it all over in my head, and looking at the woods, black-edged +and solid against the night sky. It was very still, not a breath, and +presently, off across the garden, I heard the gravel crunch under a +foot, a soft padding on the grass, and then a long, lean figure came +into the brightness that shot out across the drive from the hall behind +me—Ferguson. + +He dropped down on the top step, settled his back against one of the +roof posts, and took out a cigarette case. He was right where the light +shone on him, and I could see he had a serious, glum look which made me +think he still "had a mad on me" as they say on the east side. That +didn't trouble me; people getting mad when they've a reason to never +does, and he'd reason enough, poor dear. + +Puffing out a long shoot of smoke, he said: + +"I've come over to speak to you about that idea of mine—that cigar band +I told you about." + +"Oh," I answered, "you've got round to that, have you?" + +"I have, or perhaps you might say half way around." + +"Well, I'm the whole way. I've spent three days getting there." + +"I thought you'd beat me to it. What have you arrived at?" + +"The certainty that the man who dropped the band was the thief." + +"We're agreed at last. Have you gone far enough round to come to a +suspect?" + +"No, I'm stuck there." + +He blew out a ring, watched it float away into the darkness and said: + +"So am I. But I've a small, single compartment brain that can't +accommodate more than one idea at a time. And it's busy just now in +another direction. If you'll put that forty horse-power one of yours on +this we ought to get round the whole way." He glanced sideways at me, +his eyes full of meaning. "You'll find I can be a very grateful person." + +"Gratitude's a kind of pay I like." + +"Yes—it's stimulating and it can take more than one form." He flung +away the cigarette, leaned back against the post and said: "The worst of +it is that our main exhibit, the cigar band, is gone. I looked for it +last night and found it was lost." + +"Lost!" I sat up quick. He'd told me where he kept it and right off I +thought it was funny. "Gone out of that box you had it in?" + +"Yes. I wanted to see it when I came in—I'd been in town—and it wasn't +in the box." + +"Had it been there recently?" + +"Um—I can't tell just how recently—perhaps a week ago." + +"Did you ask about it?" + +"Yes, I asked Willitts. He said he hadn't seen it." + +"Didn't you tell me you kept studs and jewelry in that box?" + +"I did; that's what it's for. I don't see how he could have helped +seeing it. I daresay he did and, thinking it was of no use, threw it +away and then, when he saw I wanted it, got scared and lied." + +A thing like a zigzag of lightning went through me. It stabbed down from +my head to my feet, giving my heart a whack as it passed. My voice +sounded queer as I spoke: + +"He could have known, couldn't he, of that walk you and Miss Maitland +took, that walk when you found the band?" + +He had been looking, dreamy and indifferent, out into the darkness. Now +he turned to me, a little surprised, as if he was wondering at my +questions: + +"I suppose so. He knew all my crowd up there; they're forever running +back and forth from one place to the other. They know everything, and +they're the greatest gossips and snobs in the country. I've no doubt he +heard it talked threadbare—the boss walking home with Mrs. Janney's +secretary. Probably gave their social sensibilities a jolt." + +Something lifted me out of my chair, carried me across the balcony, +plunked me down beside him on a lower step. I craned up my head near to +his and I'll never forget the expression of his face, sort of blank, as +if he wasn't sure whether I'd gone crazy or was going to kiss him. + +"Some one who knew the family, some one who knew it was out that night, +some one who knew Miss Maitland had the combination, some one who could +have got a key to the front door, some one *the dogs were friendly +with*!" + +He was staring at me as if he was hypnotized—getting a gleam of it but +not the full light. I put my hands on his shoulders and gave them a +shake. + +"You simp, wake up. It's Willitts!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV—CARDS ON THE TABLE +=============================== + +In spite of Molly's excited certainty that Willitts was the thief, +Ferguson was not convinced. He met her impetuous demand for the valet's +arrest with a recommendation for a fuller knowledge of his activities on +the night of the robbery. Willitts had gone to the movies with the +Grasslands servants and if he had been with them the whole evening he +was as innocent as Dixon or Isaac. She had to agree and promised to do +nothing until she had satisfied herself that his movements tallied with +their findings. + +Ferguson had a restless night. There was matter on his mind to keep him +awake; he was fearful that Suzanne might make some false step. She was +at best a shifty, unstable creature, how much more so now strained to +the breaking point. He felt he ought to be in town where he could keep +her under his eye, and decided to motor in in the morning. Also he began +to think that Molly was probably right; she was shrewd and experienced, +knew more of such matters than he. He would go to the Whitney office and +put the Willitts' affair in their hands, then run up to the St. +Boniface, take a room, and have a look in at Suzanne. + +He left the house at nine-thirty, telling the butler he was called to +the city on business, and might be gone a day or two. At the Whitney +office he was informed that Mr. and Mrs. Janney were in consultation +with the heads of the firm, and, saying he would not disturb them, +waited in an outer room from whence he telephoned to Suzanne, telling +her he would be at the hotel later. When the Janneys had gone he was +ushered into the old man's office where he found the air still vibrating +with the clash of battle. A combined attack had been made on Mrs. Janney +who, under its pressure and the slow undermining of her confidence by a +week of failure, had given in and consented to a move on Price. It had +been planned for that afternoon, when he was to be summoned to the +office, charged with the kidnaping and commanded to render up the child. + +Whitney and his son listened to Ferguson's story of the cigar band with +unconcealed interest. George, however, was skeptical—it was ingenious +and plausible, showed Molly's fine Italian hand; but his mind had +accepted the theory of Esther's participation and was of the unelastic, +unmalleable kind. His father was obviously impressed by it, admitting +that his original conviction of the girl's guilt had been shaken. To +George's indignant rehearsal of the evidence, he accorded a series of +acquiescing nods, agreed that the facts were against him and maintained +his stand. He would see Willitts as soon as possible and put him through +a grilling examination. O'Malley could be sent to Council Oaks at once +to bring him in, and his business could be disposed of before they got +round to Price. As Ferguson rose to go George had the receiver of the +desk telephone down and was giving low-voiced instructions to O'Malley +to report immediately at the office. + +It was nearly one when the young man found himself on the street level. +There was no use going to the St. Boniface now as the family would be at +lunch and speech alone with Suzanne impossible. On the way uptown he +stopped at a restaurant, ordered food which he hardly touched, filling +out the time with cigarettes. By half-past two he was on the move again, +threading a slow way through the traffic, his eye lingering on the clock +faces that loomed at intervals along the Avenue. Suzanne had told him +that the old people always went for a drive after lunch and he scanned +the motors that passed him, hoping to see them. He was in no mood for +polite conversation—felt with the passing of the hours an increasing +tension, a gathering of his forces for a leap and a struggle. + +At the desk in the St. Boniface he heard that Mr. and Mrs. Janney had +just gone out, and waited while Mrs. Price's room was called up. There +was no response; Mrs. Price must be out too. The information made him +uneasy; she had told him she went nowhere except to Larkin's. More than +ever anxious to see her, he engaged a room and left the message that he +would be there and to be called up when she came in. The door shut on +him, his uneasiness increased; wondering what had taken her out, +wondering if she had done anything foolish, cursing the fate that had +placed so much in her feeble hands, perturbed and restless as a lion in +a cage. + +Suzanne had gone to Larkin's, called there by a telephone message. It +had come almost on the heels of her parents' departure and was brief—a +request to come to him as soon as she could. She had scrambled into her +street clothes, and, shaking in every limb, slipped out of the hotel's +side door and sped across town in a taxi to hear how Bébita was to be +found. + +She was hardly inside the door, her veil lifted from a face as pale as +Cæsar's ghost, when Larkin answered her look of agonized question: + +"Yes, the letter's come—what we expect, very clear and explicit. It was +sent to me this time—came on the two o'clock delivery." + +He turned to the desk and took up a folded paper. Before he could offer +it to her, she had leaned forward and snatched it out of his hand. +Instantly her eyes were riveted on the lines: + + "Mr. Horace Larkin, + + ":small-caps:`Dear Sir`: + + "In answer to the ad. in the *Daily Record*, we are dealing + through you as the agent named by Mrs. Price. We do this as we + realize that a lady of Mrs. Price's type and experience would + be unable to handle alone so important a matter. Before we + enter into details we must again repeat our warnings—not only + the return of the child but her life is dependent on the + actions of her mother and yourself. If you are wise to this and + follow our instructions Bébita will be restored to her family + on Saturday night. + + "The plan of procedure must be as follows: At eight-thirty a + roadster, containing only the driver and marked by a + handkerchief fastened to the windshield, must leave the village + of North Cresson by the Cresson turnpike, at a rate of speed + not exceeding fifteen miles an hour. It must proceed eastward + along the pike for a distance of ten miles. Somewhere during + this run a car will pass it and from its tonneau flash an + electric lantern twice. Follow this car. Make no attempt to + hail or to overtake it. It will turn from the main road and + proceed for some distance. When it stops the driver of the + roadster must alight, place the money at a spot indicated, and + submit, without parley, to being bound and gagged. When this is + done the child will be left beside him. If agreed to insert + following personal in *The Daily Record* of Saturday morning: + 'James, meet you at the time and place specified. Tom.' + + "(Signed) :small-caps:`Clansmen`." + +The letter fluttered to the desk and Suzanne sank into a chair. Larkin +looked at her; his glance showed some anxiety but his voice was hearty +and encouraging: + +"Well, you agree, of course?" + +She nodded, swallowing on a throat too dry for speech. + +He picked up the letter and ran a frowning eye over it: + +"It simply confirms what I thought—old hands. It's about as secure as +such a thing could be. I don't see a loose end." + +She made no answer and he went on still studying the paper: + +"I'm not familiar with this country, but they wouldn't have picked it +out unless it offered every chance of escape." + +"Escape!" she breathed. "They've *got* to escape." + +It made him smile, the eye he turned on her showed a quizzical +amusement: + +"You're almost talking like an accomplice, Mrs. Price." But he quickly +grew grave as he met her tragic glance. "Pardon me, I shouldn't have +said that, but the fact is, with the climax in sight, I'm a bit on edge +myself." Then with a brusque change of tone, "Do you know this section +of Long Island?" + +"Yes, well—I've driven over it often." + +"Am I right in thinking there are numbers of roads leading from the +Cresson Turnpike?" + +"Lots of them, to the Sound and inland." + +"Umph!" he threw the letter on the desk and sat down, "I don't think +you need worry about their getting away. Now we must settle this up and +then I'll go out and have the ad inserted. We've got to hustle—they've +only given us a little over twenty-four hours." + +She looked dazedly at him and murmured: + +"What have we got to do?" + +"Why—" he was very gentle as to a stupid and bewildered child—"we have +to arrange about this car—our car, the one that gets the signal." + +"We can hire it, can't we?" + +"Well, we could hire the car, but the driver—we can't very well hire +him. He must be some one upon whom we can rely." + +She stared at him, her eyes dilating: + +"Yes, yes, of course. I'd forgotten that." + +"Is there any one you can suggest—any one that you *know* you could +trust and who would be willing to undertake it?" + +"Yes," the word came with a sudden decision. "I know some one." Larkin +eyed her sharply. She looked more alive than she had done since her +entrance, seemed to be vitalized into a roused, responsive intelligence. +"I know exactly the person." + +"Entirely trustworthy?" + +"Absolutely. Mr. Ferguson—Dick Ferguson." + +"Oh, yes, Ferguson of Council Oaks." He mused a moment under her hungry +scrutiny. "Do you think he'd be willing to—er—agree to their demands +as you have?" + +"Yes, he'd do it to help me. He's an old friend; I know him through and +through. He'd do it if I asked him." + +The detective was silent for a moment, then said: + +"Well, we have to have some one and if you're willing to vouch for him +I'll abide by what you say. Before you came in I was thinking of +offering to do it myself. But there are reasons against that. I don't +mind helping you this way—quietly, on the side—but to be an actual +participant in the final deal, handle the money, be more or less +responsible for the person of the child—I'd rather not—I'd better not. +And anyway I think I can be more useful as an observer, an unsuspected +spectator who may see something worth while." + +She gave a stifled scream and caught at his hand, resting on the edge of +the desk: + +"No, no, Mr. Larkin, *please*, I beg of you. You're not going to try and +catch them." + +Her fingers gripped like talons; he laid his free hand over them, +soothingly patting them: + +"Now, now, Mrs. Price, please have confidence in me. Am I likely, at +this stage of the game, to do anything to queer it?" + +She did not reply, her eyes shifting from his, her teeth set tight on +her quivering underlip. He waited a moment and then spoke with a new +note, dominating, authoritative, as one in command: + +"My dear lady, you've got to get hold of yourself. I can't go on with +this if you don't trust me. We're launched on an enterprise by no means +easy and if we don't pull together we'll fail, that's all." + +That steadied her. She dropped his hand and broke into tremulous +protestations: + +"I do, I do, Mr. Larkin. It's only that I'm so terribly afraid, so upset +and desperate. Of course I trust you. Would I be here, day after day, if +I didn't?" + +He was mollified, dropped back with the crisp, alert manner of the +detective. + +"All right, we'll let it go at that. Now as to Ferguson—you'll have to +get word to him at once. Is he in the country?" + +"No—he's here. I had a telephone from him this morning to say he was in +town and would be at the hotel later in the day. He's probably there +now, waiting for me." + +"Um!" Larkin considered for a moment. "That's lucky. There's no time to +waste. Get his consent and then 'phone me here. Just a word. And you +understand he'll have to know the circumstances; he'll have to be wise +to everything if he's to play his part." + +Suzanne had lied so long and so variously that she did it with a natural +ease. No one, having seen her as Larkin had, would have guessed the +knowledge she hid. Her air of innocently comprehending his charge was a +triumph of duplicity. + +"Of course, I know, I understand. It'll be a dreadful surprise to him +but he'll see it as I do. And he'll do what I ask—I'm as certain of +that as I am of his secrecy." + +She would have to have the letter to show him, and Larkin, after a last, +careful perusal of it, handed it to her. Then she went, cutting off his +heartening words of farewell, making her way out in a quick, noiseless +rush. At the desk in the hotel she learned that Ferguson was there, +asked to have him apprised of her return and sent at once to her sitting +room. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV—MOLLY'S STORY +========================= + +The morning after that talk with Ferguson I rose up "loaded for bar." At +breakfast I led Dixon round to the old subject—we were good friends now +and he'd drop his professional manner when we were alone and talk like a +human being. Of course he remembered everything, and opened up as fluent +as a gramophone. Willitts hadn't found them at the movies till nearly +ten—been delayed on his way in from Cedar Brook, his landlady's little +girl had been took bad with croup and he'd gone for the doctor—Dr. +Bernard, who was off on a side road half way between Cedar Brook and +Berkeley. + +That ought to have been enough for me, but having started I thought I'd +clear it all up, so I borrowed a bike off Ellen and set out on the +double quick for Dr. Bernard's. I saw Mrs. Bernard and heard all I +wanted. Willitts had been there on the night of July seventh, came on a +bicycle, saw the doctor and gave his message about the sick child. She +thought it was somewhere between eight and half-past—the storm was +just stopping. I lit out for home; I'd got it all now. He'd gone +straight from the doctor's to Grasslands, taken the jewels, and made a +short cut back to the main road through the woods to where he'd hidden +his wheel. + +When you get this far on a case there comes over you a sort of terror +that you may slip up. You have it all in your hand, your fingers are +stretched to lay hold on the criminal, and an awful fear takes +possession of you that right on the threshold of success you may lose. +The cup and the lip—that's the idea. + +This seized me on the ride back to Grasslands. Why was the cigar band +gone if he wasn't wise to what it meant? It was a powerful hot day, +smothering on the wood roads, but the way I made that machine shoot +you'd suppose it was a hard frost and I was peddling to get up my +circulation. He might be gone already, taken fright and skipped! I had a +vision of telling the Chief and what he'd say, and the perspiration came +out on me like the beads on a mint julep glass. I'd go to town right +now—there was an express at eleven—but before I left I'd call up +Council Oaks and find out if he was there. + +As I ran up the piazza steps the hall clock chimed out a single note, +half-past ten—I had plenty of time. I called to Dixon to order the +motor—I was going to town—whisked into the telephone closet, and made +the connection. The voice that answered lifted me up out of the +depths—for I guessed it was Willitts by the dialect, English, with the +"H's" hanging on sort of loose and wobbly. To make sure I asked, and it +answered, smooth as a summer sea—yes, I was talking to Mr. Ferguson's +valet, Willitts. Mr. Ferguson was not at 'ome, 'ed gone to the city to +be away a day or two. Was there any message? There wasn't—you could bet +on that—and I eased off in a high-class society drawl. + +With a deep breath I dropped back to normal, smoothed my feathers, +powdered my nose, and when the motor came round looked like a shy little +nursery governess, snitching a day off in town. + +It was at the station that something happened which ended my peaceful +state and gave me an experience I'll remember as long as I live. + +Just as I was stepping on the train I took a glance back along the +platform and there, close behind me, dressed as neat as a tailor's +dummy, was Willitts with a bag in his hand. He didn't notice me, and if +he had he wouldn't have known me, for I'd only passed him once in the +village and then he wasn't looking my way. I mounted up the steps and +went into the car. From the tail of my eye I saw him in the doorway and +when he'd taken the seat in front of me, I dropped against the back of +mine, saying to myself: "Hully Gee, he's *going*!" + +All the way into town, I sat with my eyes on his hat, thinking what I'd +better do. There was one thing certain—that stood out like the writing +on the wall—I mustn't let him out of my sight. Where he went I'd have +to go, tight as a barnacle I'd have to stick to that desperado. I tried +to think how I could get a message to the Whitneys' office, but I didn't +see how I was going to find the time or the opportunity. If the worst +came to the worst I could call a cop, but if I knew anything of men like +Willitts, he'd keep a watch out like a warship for periscopes, for +anything that wore brass buttons and connected with the law. + +The "Penn" station was as hot as a Turkish bath and through it you can +imagine me, trying to trip light and airy, and keeping both eyes as +tight as steel rivets on that man's back. I've never shadowed +anybody—it's not been included in my college course—all I knew was I +mustn't lose him and I mustn't get him suspicious, and if you're making +away with a fortune in a handbag, suspicion ought to be your natural +state. So I trailed after him as far in the rear as I dared, sometimes, +a gang rushing for a train coming in between us, sometimes the space +clear with him hurrying to the exit and me sort of loitering and gawking +up at the maps on the ceiling. + +Out in the street he turned and shot a glance like a searchlight round +behind him. It swept over me and took no notice, which was considerable +of an encouragement. If it was warm in the station, it was sizzling +outside. Men were carrying their coats on their arms, some of them using +palm leaf fans, careful ones keeping to the edge of shade along the +house fronts. But Willitts didn't mind the sun; I guess when you're +making off with a fortune you're indifferent to temperature—it's +another proof of mind over matter. + +After walking down Seventh Avenue for a few minutes he turned to the +left and struck across a side street to Sixth. Half way down the block +he went into a men's furnishing store, and sauntering slow past the +window, I saw him looking at collars. There was a stationer's just +beyond and I cast anchor there, by a counter near the door set out with +magazines. A sales girl lounged up, chewing her gum like the heat had +made her languid, and looking interested over my clothes. + +"Awful warm, ain't it?" she said, and I answered, picking up a magazine: + +"It's something fierce. I'll take this one." + +"You got that one already," says she, pointing to the magazine I'd +bought at Berkeley and was still clinging to. "Don't you wanna try +something new?" + +"Oh—it's the heat; the sun gets my head woozy." I picked out another +and gave her a dollar, the smallest change I had. As she was walking to +the cash register, Willitts passed the door and I was out on the sill, +moving cautious to the sidewalk. + +"Say," comes the girl's voice from behind me, "what are you doin'? You +ain't got your change yet. You'd oughtn't to be let out in this sun." + +"Keep it," I called back. "I was a working girl once myself." + +At the corner of Fifth Avenue he stopped and, a bus coming along, he +haled it. "Lord," thought I, "if he gets into that without me I'll have +to run after it and they'll arrest me for a lunatic." Being quite a ways +behind, I had to make a dash for it, waving my magazine and hollering +like the rubes from the country. He was up on the roof, and the bus was +moving when I lit on the step, and was hauled in friendly by the +conductor. + +We jolted downtown, me sitting sideways in a rear seat watching the +stairs for Willitts' legs. It wasn't until we were below Twenty-third +Street that they came into view, stepping lightly down. The bus heaved +up against the curb and he swung off, me behind him. I was terribly +scared that he'd begin to suspect me, and all I could think of that +would look natural was to roll my eyes flirtatious at the conductor, who +seemed to like it so much I was afraid he wouldn't let me off. + +When I got down on the pavement Willitts was walking along the cross +street back toward Sixth Avenue. Midway down the block, he stopped and +disappeared through a doorway. I was quite a piece behind him and when I +saw him fade out of sight I forgot everything and ran. At the door I +came up short, panting and purple in the face—the place was a +restaurant. It had a large plate glass window with white letters on it +and a man making pancakes where he'd show plainest. Inside I could see +Willitts seating himself at a littered up table. + +"Lunch!" I said to myself. "He's going to eat, the cool devil. Now's my +chance!" + +Almost directly opposite was a drug store with telephone booths close to +the window. I could get a message to the office, and if I caught the +chief or Mr. George, I could have a man up in twenty minutes. If they +weren't there I'd try headquarters, but I was afraid of that—they'd ask +questions, waste time, want to know who I was and what it was all about. +If only Willitts was hungry, if he'd only eat enough to last till I got +some one, if he'd only order pancakes. As I waited for the connection I +found myself sort of praying "Pancakes—make him order pancakes. They're +made in the window and they take quite a while. *Please* make him eat +pancakes!" + +Right in the midst of my prayer came the voice of Miss Quinn, the +switchboard girl in the office, and for me it was: + +"Quick, Miss Quinn—it's Mrs. Babbitts. Is Mr. Whitney or Mr. George +there? Give 'em to me—on the jump—if they are." + +She didn't waste a word, and in a minute Mr. George's voice came sharp: + +"Hello, who is it?" + +"Molly, Mr. George. And I've got Willitts—and I've got enough on him to +know he's the thief—I can't tell you now but—" + +He cut in with: + +"I know, I know, Ferguson's told us. O'Malley's here now going to +Council Oaks for him." + +I almost screamed: + +"Send him *here*. Willitts is off; he's left and I've trailed him. I'm +waiting at the door and he's inside." + +"Inside *what*, where the devil are you?" + +I gave him the directions and then: + +"It's a restaurant; he's eating. But it may only be a doughnut and a +glass of milk. If it's pancakes we're safe, but a man lighting out with +a fortune in a handbag don't generally want anything so filling. I'll +follow him until I drop, but I don't want to travel round with a jewel +thief unless I have to." + +"I'll send O'Malley now. You stay right there and if Willitts finishes +before he comes, hold him any way you can. Get a cop. I'll 'phone to +headquarters for a warrant. So long." + +Of course I thought of the cop, but spying out from the doorway, there +wasn't one in sight. And by this time I was considerably worked up, +afraid to move in any direction, afraid to take my eyes from the +restaurant entrance. I pulled up one of the chairs they have for people +getting prescriptions filled, and sat down by the doorway, watching the +place opposite, like a cat camped in front of a mouse hole. + +Ten minutes had passed. If the traffic wasn't too thick on Broadway +O'Malley could make it in less than twenty. But the traffic *was* +thick—it was the middle of the day; if he was stalled or had to make a +detour it might run toward half an hour. He might be—The door of the +restaurant opened and out crept the mouse. + +The cat rose up, soft and stealthy, with her claws ready. As I crossed +the street I sent a look both ways—not a taxi in sight, not a cop, only +the whole thoroughfare tangled up with drays and delivery wagons. There +was nothing for it but to stop him, first put out the velvet paw and +then shoot the claws. Jumping quick on the curb I came up alongside of +him, a smile on my face that felt like the grin you get when you make a +joke that no one sees. + +"Why, *hullo*," I said, going at him with my hand out, "I couldn't at +first believe it—but it *is* you." + +He drew up quick, all on the alert, looking at me with hard, ferret +eyes. + +"Who are you?" he said, fierce and forbidding. "What do you want?" + +I put my head sideways, and tried to take the curse off the smile, +changing it to a sort of trembly sweetness. + +"Why, *don't* you know me? I can't be changed that bad. It's Rosie." + +I didn't know what his Christian name was and anyway, if I had it +wouldn't have helped—a man like Willitts changes his name as often as +he does his address. But I had to call him something, so when I saw the +anger rising in his eyes, I said, all broken and tender like the +deserted wife in the last act: + +"Dearie, don't pretend you don't remember me—it's Rosie from the old +country." + +He began to look savage, also alarmed: + +"I don't know what you're talking about. I never saw you before in my +life." + +He made a movement to pass on, but I drew up close, wiped off the smile, +and put on the look of true love that won't let go. + +"Oh, dearie, don't say that. Haven't I worn the soles off my shoes +hunting for you ever since, ever since—" Gee, I didn't know how to +finish it, then it came in a flash. I moaned out, "ever since we +parted." + +"Look 'ere, young woman," he said, low, with a face on him like a meat +ax, "this doesn't go with me. Now get out; get off or I'll 'ave you run +in." + +I knew he wouldn't do *that*; he'd hand over the jewels first. I raised +up my voice in a wail and said: + +"Oh, dearie, you're faking; I won't believe it. You can't have +forgot—back in the old country, me and you." + +A messenger boy, slouching by, heard me and drew up, hopeful of some +fun. Willitts saw him and began to look like murder would be added to +his other offenses. I gave a glance up the street—still only drays and +wagons, not a taxi in sight. Fatima with Sister Anne reporting from the +tower, had nothing over me for watchful waiting. + +"It's Rosie," I whined, "it's your own little Rosie. If I don't look the +same it's the suffering you've caused me and Gawd knows it." + +I laid my hand on his arm. With a movement of fury he shook it off and +began to back away from me. Another boy had come up against the +messenger and lodged there like a leaf in a stream, caught in an eddy. I +heard him say, "What's on?" and the other answered: + +"Don't know but I guess it's the movies." + +And they both looked round for the camera man. + +I don't think Willitts heard them. His back was that way and his face to +me, hard as iron and savage as a hungry wolf's. He tried to speak low +and soothing: + +"Now 'old your tongue, don't make such a fuss. I'll give you something +and you go off quiet and respectable." His hand felt in his pocket and I +raised a loud, tearful howl: + +"*Money!* Is it money you're offering? What's money to me whose heart +you've broken?" + +"I don't see no camera man," came the messenger boy's voice. + +"Aw, he's in one of them wagons," said the other. "I've seen 'em in +wagons." + +The perspiration was on Willitts' forehead in beads, he was whitening +round the mouth. Putting his face close down to mine he breathed out +through his teeth: + +"What in 'ell do you want?" + +"*You!*" I cried and out of the tail of my eye I saw a taxi shoot round +the corner from Fifth Avenue. Willitts drew away from me, shrunk +together for a race. I saw it and I knew even now, with O'Malley +plunging through the traffic, it might be too late. Embracing is not my +strong suit, no man but my lawful husband ever felt my arms about him. +But duty's a strong word with me and then my sporting blood was up. So +with my teeth set, I just made a lunge at that crook and clasped him +like an octopus. + +I didn't know a man was so much stronger than a woman. Willitts wasn't +much taller than I and he was a thin little shrimp, but believe me, he +was as tough as leather and as slippery as an eel. I could see the two +boys, delighted, drinking it in, and a dray man in a jumper, drop a +crate and come up on the run, bawling: "Say, you feller, let the lady +alone," The boys chorused out: "Aw, keep out—it's the movies!" Willitts +must have heard too, and I guess he saw his chance, for he suddenly +squirmed one arm loose, and whang! came a blow on the side of my head. +It might have seemed part of the play but he did it too hard—calculated +wrong in his excitement. I let go, seeing everything—the houses, the +sky, the crowd that seemed to start up out of the pavements—whirling +round and shot over with zigzags. There was a roaring noise in my ears +and all about, and I dropped over into somebody's arms, things getting +swimmy and dark. + +When I came out of it I was sitting on a packing box with a man fanning +me and O'Malley, red as a tomato and Willitts the color of ashes in the +middle of a mob. There was a terrible hubbub, people jamming together, +the wagons stopped and the drivers yelling to know what was up, heads +out of every window, and then two policemen, fighting their way through. +I felt queer, sickish, and as if the muscles of my face were all slack +so my mouth wouldn't stay shut. But the gentleman fanning me acted awful +kind and a clerk came out of a store with ice water and a wet +handkerchief that he patted soft on the side of my head. + +I could see O'Malley and the policeman (they'd come from headquarters I +heard afterward) go off into a vestibule with Willitts and the crowd +that couldn't get a look-in came squeezing round me, heads peering up +over heads. They'd got the idea that Willitts was my husband, seeming to +think only a lawful spouse would dare to hit a woman before witnesses in +the public street. The guys in the front were explaining it to the guys +in the back and calling Willitts names I couldn't put down in these +refined pages. + +It got me laughing, especially when an old Jew who had been sizing me up +like a piece of goods nodded slow and solemn and said: "And she ain'd zo +bad lookin' neither." I burst right out at that and the man with the fan +waved his arms at them, shouting: + +"Give way there—back—back! She wants air—she's hysterical. She's gone +through more than she can bear." + +Gee, how I laughed! + +Presently in the center of a surging mass we crowded our way to the +taxi, the policemen going in front and hitting round light with their +clubs. O'Malley with Willitts handcuffed to him got in the back seat, +me opposite, with my hat off, holding the handkerchief against my head. +As we pulled out I looked back over the sea of faces and caught the eye +of one of the policemen. He straightened up, very serious and dignified, +and saluted. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI—THE COUNTER PLOT +============================= + +Ferguson's knock on Suzanne's door was promptly answered by the lady +herself, still in her hat and wrap. She clutched at him as she had done +when he came to her in her dark hour, drawing him into the room and +gasping her news. He was in no mood to follow her ramblings and, as soon +as she spoke of a letter, interrupted her with a brusque demand for it. +After he had mastered its contents he told her to 'phone at once to +Larkin that it was all right, and while she delivered the message, stood +by studying the paper. When she turned back to him he laid his hands on +her shoulders and looked into her eyes. The touch that once would have +sent the blood burning to her cheeks called up no responsive thrill now: + +"This lets you out—it's the end of your responsibility. Your part now +is to be quiet and wait. To-morrow night you'll have Bébita back. Just +nail that up in your mind and keep your eyes on it." + +"Back where? Will you bring her here?" + +It was so like her—so indicative of a mental attitude invariably small +and personal, that he could have smiled: + +"I can't say, but probably Grasslands. The end of the route laid down +isn't so far from there." + +"Shall I go back to Grasslands?" + +He pondered a moment, then decided it was wiser to trust nothing to her, +even so simple a matter as her withdrawal to the country. + +"No, stay where you are. There'd be a lot of questioning if you went, +bothersome, hard to answer. When we have her I'll let you know. For the +rest of this afternoon I'll be in town, in my room here on the floor +below. If anything of moment should happen send for me, but don't unless +it's vital. I'll be busy getting things ready. Be silent, be grave, be +hopeful—that's all you have to do now." + +He left her, going directly to his room on a lower floor of the hotel. +She felt numb and dazed, wondering how she was to live through the next +twenty-four hours. Her parents returned from their drive and close on +their entrance came a communication from the Whitney office, saying the +jewels had been found and Mr. and Mrs. Janney were wanted downtown. In +the midst of their bustling excitement she sat mute, following their +movements with vacant eyes. She saw them leave in agitated haste, Mr. +Janney forgetful of her, her mother throwing out phrases of comfort as +she hurried to the door. She was glad when they were gone and she could +be still, draw all her energies inward in the fight for endurance and +courage. + +His coat off, the windows wide for such breaths of air as floated across +the heated roofs, Ferguson paced back and forth with a long, even +stride. His uncertainty was ended, the tension relaxed; he stood face to +face with the event and measured it. + +His assurances to Suzanne that he would make no attempt to apprehend the +kidnapers had been sops thrown to pacify her terror. He had no more +intention of a supine acquiescence than Mrs. Janney would have had. +Beyond the clearing of Esther, stood out the man's desire to bring to +justice the perpetrators of a foul and dastardly deed. Now, with their +cards laid on the table, it rose higher, burned into a steady, hot blaze +of rage and resolution. + +But between his desire and its fulfilment stretched a maze of +difficulties. He saw at once what Larkin had seen—that their plan was +as nearly impregnable as such a plan could be. Though he knew every mile +of the country they had selected, he knew that the chances of waylaying +or flanking them were ten to one against him. Numerous roads, north and +south, led from the Cresson Pike, some to the shore drive along the +Sound, some inland crossing the various highways that threaded the +center of the Island. Any one of these might be chosen as the road down +which their car would turn, and any one of them, winding through woods +and lonely tracts of country, would offer avenues of escape. + +He thought of stationing men along the designated route but it would +take an army, impossible to gather at such short notice and impossible +to place without his opponent's cognizance. Hundreds of men could not be +picketed along a ten-mile stretch of highway without those who were the +authors of so daring a scheme being aware. They would be on the watch; +no move of such magnitude could be hidden from them. It would be the +same if he called in the police. They would know it, and what could the +police do that he could not do more secretly, more efficiently? + +A following car was also out of the question. There was no reason to +suppose that they would not have several cars of their own, passing and +repassing him, making sure that he was unescorted. The threats of injury +to the child he had set down as efforts to reduce Suzanne to a paralyzed +silence. But if they saw an attempt was on foot to trap them they might +not show up at all—go as they had come, unknown and unsighted, their +car lost among the procession of motors that passed along the Cresson +Pike. Then taken fright, they might not dare another effort, might drop +out of sight with their hostage unredeemed. A chill crept over the young +man, he had a dread vision of the old people's despair, of Suzanne +distraught, crazed perhaps. It behooved him to run no risks; to make +sure of the child was his first duty, to strike at her abductors his +second. + +The course he finally decided on was the only one that made Bébita's +restoration certain and offered a possibility of routing his opponents. +At the hour named he would place on the road six motors, driven by his +own chauffeurs and garage men, and entering the turnpike at intervals of +ten minutes. Three would start from its eastern end, meeting him en +route, three from its western, strung out behind him, now and then +speeding up, overhauling him and passing on. Of a summer's Saturday +night the Cresson Pike was full of vehicles, and the six, merged in the +shifting stream, would suggest no connection with him or his mission. + +Where his hope of success lay was that one of these satellites, to whom +the character and marking of his roadster would be visible at some +distance, might be within sight when he was signaled and see him turn +into the branch road. Its business would be to wait until another of the +fleet came up, pass the word, and the two follow on his tracks. This +halt would give the kidnapers time to complete the transaction, get the +money, give up the child, and bind him. If they were interrupted the +situation would be too perilous to permit of delay—he had thought of an +attack on the child—and if they had finished and gone the rescuing +cars could fly in pursuit. + +He was far from satisfied with it; it was very different from the +schemes he had had in his head before he measured his resourcefulness +against theirs. He dropped into a chair, sunk in moody contemplation of +its deficiencies. The men he had to rely on were not the right kind, +loyal and willing enough, but without the boldness and initiative +necessary to such an enterprise. He wanted a lieutenant, some one he +could look to for quick, independent action if the affair took an +unexpected turn. You couldn't tell how it might develop, and he, pledged +to his ungrateful rôle, would be powerless to meet new demands, might +not know they had arisen. + +He was roused by a knock on the door. It surprised him for his presence +in the city was unknown except to his own household and the Janney +family. Then he thought of Suzanne coming down to him to pour out her +fears, and his "Come in" was harsh and unwelcoming. In answer to it the +door opened and Chapman Price entered. + +Ferguson rose, looking at his visitor, startled and silent. His surprise +was caused by the man's appearance, by a fierce disturbance in the +handsome face, pale under its swarthy tan, by the eyes, agate-black and +gleaming in a bovine glare. He had seen Chapman angry but never just +like this, and from a state, keyed to anticipate any new shock from any +direction, said: + +"What's happened now?" + +Price had closed the door and backing up, leaned against it. His answer +came, hoarse and broken: + +"I've been to those hounds, the Whitneys." + +It illuminated the ignorance of his listener, who was readjusting his +mind for a reply when the other burst into a storm of invective against +the lawyers and the Janneys. It broke like a released torrent, sentences +stumbling on one another, curses mingled with wild accusations, its +cause revealed in a final cry of: "Stolen—my child—kidnaped—gone!" + +Through Ferguson's head, full of weightier matters, flashed a vision of +Chapman raging at the Whitneys and a wonder as to what effect his rage +had had. Kicking a chair forward he spoke with a dry quietness: + +"That's all right—you needn't bother to go over it. Pull yourself +together and sit down." + +But he might as well have counseled self-control to an angry lion. The +man, still standing against the door, jerked out: + +"I can get nothing from any of them. They know nothing. They've let all +this time pass—following *me*, suspecting *me*. I don't know why I +didn't kill them!" + +"Probably because you've sense enough left not to complicate what's +complicated enough already. What brought you here?" + +He seemed unable to answer any direct question, staring with dilated +eyes, his thoughts fastened on the subject of his pain: + +"Spent a week—lost a week! Good God, Dick, they ought to be held +responsible. Where is she? Not one of them knows—not an effort made. +She's gone, lost, been stolen, spirited away, while they've been sitting +in their office, turning their d——d detectives loose on me." + +"Look here, Chapman, I'm not saying you're not right, but the milk's +spilled and it's no good trying to pick it up. If you'll sit down and +listen to me—" + +Price cut him off, leaving his post by the door to begin a distracted +striding about the room: + +"I couldn't stand it—when I'd got it through me I left. Then I tried to +get hold of Suzanne—telephoned her, here somewhere in this place. She's +half crazy, I think—I don't wonder, she's fonder of Bébita than +anything in the world. She wouldn't see me, crying and moaning out that +she couldn't, that she couldn't bear any more. And when I begged—I +thought that she and I might arrange some combined effort, that whatever +we had been we were partners *now* in this—she told me to come to you, +that you could tell me more, that you could help." He swerved round on +Ferguson, the hard passion of his glance softened to a despairing +urgency, "For God's sake, do. I'm penniless, I know almost nothing +except that I've got to act now, at once, before any more time is lost. +Give me a hand, help me to find her." + +Ferguson's voice had an element of endurance in its level tones: + +"That's just what I want to do. And if you'll stop talking and let me +explain, you'll see I'm on the way to do it. But it's not *my* help that +you want, it's the other way round—\ *I* want *yours*." + +It was almost dark and Ferguson turned on the lights. Under their thin, +white radiance, the two men sat, drawn close to the open window, and +Ferguson told his story. The other listened, the storm of his anger +gone, his dark face growing keen and hard as he heard the plan unfolded. +An hour later they parted, Price to go to Council Oaks and lie low there +until the following night when he would command the fleet of motors in +the chase along the Cresson Turnpike. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII—NIGHT ON THE CRESSON PIKE +======================================= + +The night fell stifling and airless, unfortunately favorable for the +kidnapers, as the sky was covered with clouds and the country wrapped in +a thick darkness. + +At half-past eight the roadster, with Ferguson driving, glided into the +little village of North Cresson and swung out into the Cresson Turnpike. +Ten minutes behind him was his touring car with Saunders, his chauffeur, +at the wheel. Twenty minutes later a limousine was to strike into the +pike from a road just beyond the village, and a runabout, emerging from +an opposite direction, complete the chain. At the other end of the +ten-mile limit Chapman Price in the black racer, was running up from the +shore drive, with two satellites, one his own motor, one a hired Ford, +strung out behind him. + +Of a hot summer night at this hour the pike was alive with autos; +returning holiday-makers, city dwellers taking a spin in the country to +cool off, joy riders rioting by, belated business men speeding to the +sea-side for the Sunday rest. They bore down on Ferguson like a +procession of fleeing monsters with round, goblin eyes staring in +affright. They came from behind, swinging across his path in a blur of +dust, laughter and shrill cries rising from their crowded tonneaus. +Keeping to their narrow track between the borders of the fields they +were like a turbulent, flashing torrent, dividing the darkness with a +stream of streaked radiance, cutting the silence with a current of +continuous sound. + +Ferguson's glance ranged ahead, dazzled by the glare of advancing lamps +that enlarged on his vision, grew to a blinding haze and swept by. He +could see little, blackness and brightness alternating, the motors +emerging as dim solidities, realized for a passing moment, then gone. +Once a small car, cutting across his bows from a side road, made him +slacken, but it slowed round showing the gnarled face of a farmer with a +fat woman on the seat beside him and a bunch of children behind. + +As he went on the press of vehicles thinned, the line of the road showed +bare for longer stretches. The runabout overhauled him, kept by his side +for a few yards, then drew ahead, its red tail lantern receding with an +even, skimming smoothness; a spot, a spark, nothing. He calculated he +had covered nearly half the distance when the black racer passed in a +soft, purring rush, his eye, through the yellow fog that preceded it, +catching a glimpse of Price's face. Then came a long, straight level +between fields where only two cars went by, both going cityward. He +looked back and tried to see the road behind him, straining his vision +for a following shape, but the darkness lay close and unbroken, no +goblin eyes peering through it in anxious pursuit. + +The road took a dive into woods, black as a cavern, the air breathless. +It wound in sharp curves, his lamps sending their swinging rays into +thickets, then out again on a hilltop, and down, swooping with a long, +smooth glide into a valley. Here the touring car passed him and he met a +limousine, traveling at a pace as sober as his own, in its lit interior +two men talking; after that a farmer's wagon drawn up against the +roadside grasses, the horse prancing in fractious fear. Then nobody—a +wide strip of open country with the sky setting down like an arched lid +over the low circular surface of the land. + +It was very still and his listening ear caught the buzzing hum of a +vehicle behind him. This time he did not turn but drew off further to +the right, and a closed coupé swung by, with the jarring rattle of an +old and loose-geared body. He was on the alert at once, its hooded shape +suggesting secrecy, the surrounding loneliness apt for its design. Its +tail light cast a bobbing, crimson blot on the bed and he saw its back, +dust-grimed and rusty, and the numbered oblong of its license tag. That +caused his expectancy to drop—the tag stood for respectability and +honest wayfaring, then, with a quickened leap of his heart, he realized +that its speed was slackening. It slowed down to his own gait, and at +the limit of his lamp's illumination, moved before him, a square bulk, +its back cut by a small window. He felt sure now, and with his hand on +the wheel took a look over his shoulder. In the distance, cresting a +rise, he saw two golden dots, too far for a speedy overtaking, and even +if that were possible he had no reason to suppose they belonged to any +of his followers. + +A belt of woods spread across the way and the road entered it as if +tunneling a vault. It wound, looped and twisted, tree trunks and leafy +hollows starting out as the long bright tubes swept over them. As one of +these, slewing wide in a sharper turn, crossed the bank of the forward +car, Ferguson saw an arm extended and from the hand a white spark flash +twice. Almost immediately the coupé turned to the left, and plunged into +a by-way, black as a pocket, the woods' thick growth crowding on its +edges. + +The roadbed was good and the leading car accelerated its speed racing +onward under the arching boughs. Ferguson, close on its heels, knew that +the sounds of their going would be muffled by the enshrouding woodland, +absorbed in its woven density. No chance either of meeting any one; the +way was one of those forest trails, sought by the rich on their +afternoon drives, but at night deserted by all but the birds and the +squirrels. Cursing at the failure of his schemes, powerless now to +protest or to retaliate, he followed until he knew by a freshening of +the air that they were near the Sound. The coupé's speed began to lessen +and it came to a halt. + +Ferguson drew up a few rods behind it. He could see the trees about him +picked out in detail and behind them the engulfing darkness. The machine +in front still seemed to shake and vibrate; he caught the sound of a +step and then a voice, a man's, deep and low-keyed: + +"This is the place. Get out." + +He jumped to the ground, discerning a shape by the coupé's door. He +advanced, peering through his lantern's intervening glare, and made out +it was alone. Stung with a quick fear, he halted and said. + +"Where's the child?" + +"Here. Put the money on the rock to your right." + +The man came forward, a raised hand pointing to where the top of a rock +showed among the wayside grasses. From the lifted hand, the light struck +a silvery gleam, touching the barrel of a revolver. Ferguson, without +moving said: + +"I must see her first." + +He thought he detected a moment's hesitation, then the man stepped back +to the car and called a gruff: + +"All right—quick—look." + +He swung the coupé door open and from an electric torch in his left hand +sent a ray into the interior. The white shaft pierced the murk like a +pointing finger. Its circular end, a spot of livid brightness, played on +Bébita curled on the floor asleep. Ferguson saw her as if cut from an +encompassing blackness, transparently clear like a picture suspended in +a void. Then the ray was extinguished, and as he stood, blinking against +the obscurity, heard the man's voice, "The money—on the rock there," +and caught the gleam of the revolver barrel level with his eyes. + +He walked to the rock and laid the money, in an envelope clasped with +rubber bands, on its flat surface. The whole thing seemed to him like a +cheap melodrama and he could have laughed as he righted himself and saw +the round, shining end of the revolver covering him, and the silent +figure behind it. + +"Come on," he said, "get to the rest. You tie me—where?" + +"The oak—behind you." + +It was a large-sized tree back from the edge of the road, and he walked +to it hearing the man trampling the underbrush in his wake. He had a +sense of a dreamlike quality in the whole fantastic performance, as if +he might wake up suddenly and find he'd been having a nightmare. + +But there was nothing dreamlike in the force with which the rope was +thrown about him and tightened round the tree. As he felt it strained +across his chest, lashed round his legs, girding him to the trunk close +at its bark, he recognized expertness and strength in the hands that +bound him. The thing was done with extraordinary speed and deftness, and +ended by a lump of waste, that smelled of gasoline, being thrust into +his mouth. + +The heavy tread moved again through the underbrush, the man passed to +the rock, and, his back to Ferguson, crouched on the light's edges +counting the money. Ferguson saw him in silhouette, a large, humped body +with bent head. This done, he went to the door of the coupé and lifted +out the child. He had some difficulty in getting hold of her, muttered +an oath, then drew her out, carried her to the roadside and set her down +on the grass. There was a moment when he crossed the full gush of +illumination and Ferguson had a clear glimpse of him, a chauffeur's cap +on his head, the lower part of his face covered by a thick beard. +Returning to his car, he jumped in. Its lurching start broke into a +sudden flight, it rushed; Ferguson could hear the bounding of stones, +the creaking and wrenching of its body as it hurtled down the road. + +.. _`Ferguson saw him in silhouette, a large, humped body with bent head`: + +.. figure:: images/illus4.jpg + :align: center + :alt: Ferguson saw him in silhouette, a large, humped body with bent head + + Ferguson saw him in silhouette, a large, humped body with bent head + + +Silence settled, the deep, dreaming quiet of the woods. The young man +tried to struggle, to writhe and work himself loose, but his bonds held +fast, and he found himself choked for air, stifling and snorting over +his gag. He gave it up and looked at the child. By straining his eyes he +could just see her, a small, relaxed body, one hand outflung, her +profile, held in a trance-like sleep, marble white against the grass. A +hideous fear assailed him:—she might be dead. Some drug had evidently +been administered to keep her quiet—an overdose! He wrenched and +pressed at the cords, almost strangled and had to stop, the sweat +pouring into his eyes, his heart pounding on the rope that cut into his +chest. He called on his will, felt himself steadied, his smothered +breath came easier, the only sound on the silence. + +Then another broke upon it, far away, from the direction of the Sound—a +thin, clear report. He stiffened, all his faculties strained to listen, +heard it again, several in a spattering run, dropping distinct, like +little globules piercing the stillness. "Shooting!" he thought with a +wild surge of excitement, "out toward the water—Oh, Lord, have they got +him?" + +He listened again, but heard nothing. And then from the ground rose a +moaning breath, a sleepy cry—Bébita was awake. He wrenched his head +till he could see her plainly, her face turned upward, the eyes still +closed, the forehead puckered with a look of pain. He tried to emit some +word, heard it only as a guttural mutter, and watching, saw her stir, +the out-stretched arm sway upward, her eyes open, dazed and heavy, and +heard her drowsy whimper of, "Mummy," and then, "Oh, Annie, where are +you?" Slowly, her head moving as her glance swept the unfamiliar +prospect, she sat up. + +He remembered the next few minutes as something incredibly horrible, the +child's consciousness clearing to an overwhelming fear. She looked +about, saw him, scrambled to her feet and began to scream, shrill, +terrified cries, crouching away from him like a scared animal. She made +a rush for the motor, climbing in, cowering down, calling on the names +that meant safety: "Mummy! Oh, Mummy! Gramp, Daddy—Come! *Come* to me!" + +An answer came, the hollow bray of a motor horn, the shout of a man's +voice, then the twin spears of light, the whirring buzz of a machine +shooting out of the road's dark tunnel—Chapman Price in the black car. +He leapt out and ran to her, caught her up, strained her to him, held +her head back to look into her face, kissed her, babbled words of love +that broke on his lips and he hid his face on her neck. She twined round +him, arms and legs clutching and clinging, sobbing out, "Popsy, Popsy!" +over and over. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII—THE MAN IN THE BOAT +================================== + +Price took Bébita to Grasslands, handed her over to Annie and telephoned +in to the Janneys. Then he left to rejoin Ferguson who was to go to the +shore and find out the meaning of the shots. Price, missing the leading +car, had decided that it had turned from the pike and scouring the side +roads in a blind chase had heard the shots, agreeing with Ferguson that +they came from the direction of the Sound. + +Ferguson went that way, driving at breakneck speed. He had almost +reached the shore, felt the water's coolness, saw the wood's vista widen +when, to avoid a deep rut, he slewed his machine to the left. The lights +penetrated a thicket, revealing behind the woven foliage, a dark, large +body, black among the tangled green. He drew up, peering at it—it was +not a rock; its side showed smooth through the boughs. He jumped out and +pushed his way through the bushes. It was a taxi, its lamps +extinguished, broken branches and crushed foliage marking its track. + +It gave evidence of a violent flight and a hasty desertion, careened to +one side, its door open, a rug hanging over the step. He went to the +back, struck a match and looked at the license tag—the number was that +of the motor he had followed. Covered by the darkness, driven deep among +the trees, it could easily have passed unnoticed until the daylight +betrayed it. + +The plan of escape revealed a new artfulness—the man had made off +either on foot or in another vehicle. It accounted for the license—he +knew his pursuers would mark it and look for a car carrying that number. +In the face of such a crafty completeness of detail the young man felt +himself reduced to a baffled indecision. Cogitating on the various +routes his quarry might have taken, he ran out on to the shore road and +here again halted. + +Before him the Sound lay, a smooth dark floor, along which glided the +small golden glimmerings of river craft. He looked up and down the road, +discernible as a gray path between the upstanding solidity of the woods +and the flat solidity of the water. Some distance in front a black blot +took shape under his exploring glance as a small house. He started the +car and ran toward it, seeing as he approached a dancing yellow spot +come from behind it in swaying passage. He stopped, the yellow spot +steadied, rose, swung aloft—a lantern in the hands of a man, half +dressed, who came toward him spying out from under the upraised glow. + +Ferguson spoke abruptly: + +"Did you hear shots a while ago?" + +The man setting his lantern on the ground, spoke with the slow phlegm of +the native: + +"I did—close here. I bin down to the waterside seein' if I could make +out what they was." + +The house was skirted by a balcony along which a second light now came +into view; this time from a lamp carried in the hand of a woman. She was +wrapped in a bed gown, a straggle of loose hair hanging round a +frightened face. + +"We was asleep and they woke us up. They was right off there," she +jerked her head to the Sound behind her. + +"From the water?" Ferguson asked. + +"Sounded that way," the man took it up. "We wasn't sure at first what it +was; then they come crack, crack, one after the other, from somewheres +beyont. My wife, she said it was motor boats, said she heard 'em off +across the water. But by the time we got something on and was outside it +was over. There wasn't no more and we couldn't see nothing. I bin down +on the beach lookin' round, thinkin' they might have come from there, +but I ain't found no tracks or signs of anybody." + +"I was wonderin'," said the woman, "if may be it was that patrol +boat—the one they got this summer runnin' along the shore for +thieves—That they caught a sight of one and went after him." + +Ferguson was silent for a moment then said: + +"Is there any place round here where a boat could be hidden, deep enough +water for a launch?" + +The man answered: + +"Yes, right down the road a step there's a cove and an old dock; used to +belong to the folks that lived on the bluff but the house burned down a +while back and ain't been rebuilt and no one's used the dock since. A +feller could hide a boat there fine; it's all overgrown so you can't see +it unless you know where it is." + +"I'd like to take a look at it," said Ferguson. "Come along with the +lantern." + +The place was only a few yards from the mouth of the wood road. Trees +and shrubs sheltered it, concealing with their rank growth a small +wharf, rotted and sagging to the water line. The lantern rays revealed a +recent presence, scattered leaves and twigs on the wooden planking, the +long marshy grasses showing a track from the road to the wharf's edge. + +"Yes, sir," said the native, much impressed; "some one's been here +to-night and not s'long ago either. You can see where the dew's been +swep' off the grasses right to the water." + +Ferguson said nothing; he now saw the whole plan of escape—the coupé +left in the woods, a short run to the cove where a boat had been +concealed, the get-away down on across the Sound. What had the shots +meant? Was the woman right in thinking the police patrol had come upon +the fleeing criminal? And if they had what had been the result? + +Lantern in hand, the man at his heels, he crushed through the swampy +copse to the shore. There his glance swept the long stretch of the +water, sewn in the distance with a pattern of moving sparks. Two of +them, red and green, stole over the ebony surface toward him, advancing +with an even, gliding smoothness, piercing and steady, like the eyes of +a stealthily approaching animal, fixing him with a meaning scrutiny. He +snatched up the lantern and ran for a point that jutted out in a pebbly +cape. Standing on its tip he raised and waved the light, letting his +voice ring out across the stillness: + +"Boat ahoy!" + +The lights drew closer, their reflections stabbing down into the oily +depths, gleam below gleam. The pulsing of a muffled engine came with +them, a prow took shape, a shine of wood and brass above the lusterless +tide. Ferguson called again: + +"Who are you?" + +An answer rose in a man's surly voice: + +"What's that to you?" + +"A good deal. I'm Ferguson of Council Oaks and I'm looking for the boat +that fired on some one round here about an hour ago." + +The voice replied, its tone changed to sudden conciliation: + +"Oh, Mr. Ferguson; couldn't see who it was. We're what you're looking +for—the police patrol. We have the launch here in tow." + +"Have you got the man?" + +"Yes, sir. He didn't answer our challenge and fired on us. We chased and +gave it back to him—a running fight. One of us got him—he's dead." + +"Go on to my wharf; I'll be there when you come." + +On his way along the shore road he met Price, paused for a quick +explanation, and the two cars ran at a racing clip to Ferguson's wharf. +The men were standing on its end when the police boat glided into the +gush of light that fell from the high electric lamps at either side of +the ship. Behind it, lifted and dropped by the languid wavelets, was a +launch, a covered shape lying on the floor. + +The story of the police was quickly told. The night, dark and windless, +was the kind chosen by the water thieves for their operations. The men +had been on the watch faring noiselessly with engine muffled and hooded +lamps. It was nearly the end of their run, a length of shore with few +estates, when they saw a boat glide from a part of the beach peculiarly +dark and deserted. The craft carried no lights, a fact that instantly +roused their suspicions, and they waited. As it drew out for the open +water they challenged. There was no answer, but a sudden acceleration of +its speed, shooting by them like a streak for the mid reaches of the +Sound. + +They started in pursuit, repeating their challenge and then an order to +lie to. Again there was no response and they clapped on top speed and +raced in its wake. They were gaining on it when, in answer to a louder +hail, the man fired on them, the bullet passing between two of them and +burying itself in the gunwale. They replied with a return fire, there +was a fusillade of shots, and the two boats sped in a darkling rush +across the Sound. They knew something was wrong with their opponent; his +launch headed in a straight line swept through the wash of steamers, cut +across the bows of tugs and river craft, rocking like a cockleshell, +menaced by destruction, shouts and objurgations following its mad +course. They were up with it, almost alongside on the last lap. He made +no answer to their hails, sat upright and motionless, sat so when his +bow crashed against the rocks of the Connecticut shore. They found him +dead, a bullet in his brain, the wheel still gripped in his hands. + +Ferguson dropped into the launch and drew down the coat that had been +thrown over the body. The face, the false beard gone, was handsome, the +body large and powerful, the hands fine and well kept—it was not the +type he had expected to see. He felt in the pockets and found the money +still in its envelope, clasped by the rubber bands. There were no other +papers, no means of identification. After a short colloquy with the men, +he and Price drove back to Council Oaks. + +Price left the next morning. His presence was necessary in the city, he +said, and he seemed preoccupied and anxious to go. He hinted at +forthcoming revelations which would clear up what was still unexplained, +but declared himself unable at present to say more. + +When he had gone, Ferguson walked to Grasslands where he found the +family recuperating in a relief too deep for words. Bébita was in bed +still asleep. The doctor, sent for the night before, said she was +suffering from the effects of a drug, but that rest and quiet would soon +restore her. + +They collected on the balcony to hear his story. When it was over, +questions answered, amazement and horror vented in various forms, Mr. +Janney said he would like to walk over to the wharf and have a talk with +the police himself. Ferguson decided to go with him; there would be a +lot of business to be gone through, an inquest with all its unpleasant +detail. + +As they rose to leave, Suzanne announced that she wanted to come too. +She looked a wreck, in her hysterical jubilation forgetful of her rouge +and powder; a worn little wraith of a woman whose journey to the heart +of life had stripped her of all coquetry and beauty. They tried to +dissuade her, but, as usual, she was insistent; she wanted to see the +men herself, she wanted to hear everything. On this day of thanksgiving +no one had the will to thwart her, so they accepted with the best grace +they could and she walked through the woods with them. + +There was a group of men on the wharf, the local police, the coroner, +some of Ferguson's employees. The body had been put in the boathouse, +laid on a table under a sheltering tarpaulin. Ferguson and Mr. Janney +drew off to the end of the dock in low-toned conference with the +officials. They were relieved to see that Suzanne had no mind to listen, +but stayed by herself in the shade of the boathouse wall. + +She leaned against it, looking out over the sparkling reaches of the +Sound. Her thoughts were of the dead man, close behind her there, on the +other side of the wooden partition. She wondered with an awed amaze at +his wild act and its dark ending. She wondered what manner of man he +was, what he was like—a human creature, unknown to her, who could want +only to cause her such anguish. + +She shot a glance over her shoulder and saw that the door of the +boathouse was half open—the coroner had been in and had neglected to +close it. She looked at the men at the end of the wharf; they stood in a +little cluster, backs toward her, heads together in animated discussion. +She moved from the wall, advanced on tip-toe through the slant of shade, +and slipped through the open doorway. + +The place was very still, its clear, varnished brownness impregnated +with the sea's salty tang, through its windows the golden gleam of the +waves reflected in rippling lights that chased across its peaked +ceiling. She stole to the table where the grim shape lay and lifted the +tarpaulin with a trembling hand. The other shot suddenly to her mouth, +strangling a scream, and she dropped the heavy cloth as if it burned +her. Both hands went up over her face, flattened there until the nails +were empurpled, and she stood, bent as if cramped with pain, for the +moment all movement paralyzed. + +Ferguson, informed of all he wanted to know, turned from the others to +join her. She was not where he had left her, and moving down the wharf +he looked about and, seeing no sign of her, decided that she had gone +home. He was passing the boathouse doorway when she came through it +almost upon him. + +"Good heavens!" he said angrily, "have you been in *there*?" Then, +seeing her face, he caught her arm and held her. Would there ever be an +end to her willfulness! + +"Come home," he said, sharply, and led her away. She tottered beside +him, drooping and ghastly. As they crossed the road to the path up the +bluff he could not forbear an exasperated: + +"What in the name of common sense did you do that for? Didn't you know +it was not a thing for you to see?" + +Her hands locked on his arm; she leaned against him lifting a haggard +glance to his face. Her voice was a husky whisper: + +"It's not that, Dick. It wasn't just the dead man. It was—it was—he +was my detective—Larkin!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX—MISS MAITLAND EXPLAINS +=================================== + +On Saturday afternoon several telephone messages were sent to Esther +Maitland at O'Malley's flat. They came from Ferguson, from Grasslands, +and the Whitney office. In the two latter cases they were conciliatory +and apologetic and asked that Miss Maitland would see the senders and +explain the circumstances that had so strangely involved her in the +case. + +To both her employers and the Whitneys Miss Maitland returned an evasive +answer. She would be happy to do as they asked, but would have to let a +few more days pass before she would be free to speak. Meantime she would +remain with Mrs. O'Malley, who had offered to keep her, and who had +treated her with the utmost kindness and consideration. One request she +made—this to the Whitneys—she would like Chapman Price to be advised +of her whereabouts. It would be necessary for her to communicate with +him before she would be able to explain her share in the mystery. + +Ferguson's message had been an importunate demand to let him come to +her. She refused, said she would see no one until she was at liberty to +clear herself, which would not be for some days yet. Her voice showed a +tremulous urgency, a note of pleading, new to his ears and infinitely +sweet. But he could not break down her resolution; she begged him to do +as she asked, not to seek her out, not to demand any explanations until +she was ready to give them. The one favor she granted him was that when +the time was up and she could break her silence, he could come for her. + +This did not happen until Wednesday. That morning she 'phoned to them +all that she could now see them and tell them what they wanted to hear. +A meeting was arranged at the Whitney office for three that afternoon +and Ferguson went to fetch her. + +They met in Mrs. O'Malley's front parlor, considerately vacated and with +the folding doors closed against intrusion. Without greeting Ferguson +took her hands and held them, looking down into her face. She was +beaming, her cheeks flushed, her eyes shy. She began to say something +about being at last able to vindicate herself, but he cut her off: + +"Before you go into that, I want to say something to you." + +"No, that's not fair; I must speak first and you must let me. It's my +privilege." + +"With the others maybe, but not with me. What I have to say has to be +said *before* I hear. Esther, do you know what it is?" + +She was silent, her head drooping, her hands growing cold in his grasp. +He went on, very quietly and simply: + +"It's that I ask you to be my wife. And I must ask it before the +clearing or vindicating or any rubbish of that sort. I don't know what +*you'll* say to it and I don't want any answer now. That's at your own +good time and your own good pleasure. It's just that I wanted you to see +how I stand and have stood since that night when we walked through the +woods together. Come along now—it's nearly three, and we mustn't keep +them waiting." + +It was a very different Esther who sat in Wilbur Whitney's private +office, facing those who had once been her accusers. She gave no +evidence of rancor, greeted them with a frank friendliness, smiled with +a radiance they set down to the rebound from long tension and strain. +Suzanne, her jealous fires burned out, could acknowledge now that she +was handsome; Mr. Janney wondered at her look of breeding. "A fine +girl," old Whitney thought, as he studied her through his glasses, +"spirited and high-mettled as a racer." + +"It's a long story," she said, "and for you to understand it I'll have +to go back to a time when none of you had ever heard of me. And before I +begin, I want to say to Mrs. Janney," she turned to the older woman +eagerly earnest, "if I had understood people better, if I hadn't been +hardened and made suspicious by the struggle I'd had, I would have +trusted you and told you more, and all this misery would have been +averted. So, in a way it was my fault, and being such I've suffered for +it. + +"I have a half-sister, Florence Jackson, nine years younger than I am; +that would make her eighteen. When my stepfather died, ten years ago, he +left us penniless and I had to start in at once to make our bread. I +boarded Florry out with friends and found a position as a school +teacher. That was only for a year or two; soon I advanced into the +secretarial work which was less fatiguing and better paying. In the +first place I got, Florry was living near me and on Sundays she used to +come and see me. My employer didn't like it—did not want a strange +child about the house and told me so without mincing words. I was +angry—I was hot-tempered and sensitive in those days and I made a vow +to keep my life to myself, be nothing to my employers but a machine who +rendered certain services for a certain wage. When I came to you, Mrs. +Janney, I should have seen that I was with some one who was big-hearted +and generous, but I had been molded and the mold had set in a hard and +bitter shape. + +"Earning more money I was able to put Florry in good schools. It was my +intention to give her a fine education, and equip her for the task of +earning her living. She was quick and clever, but willful and hard to +control. I suppose it was because she had had no home influences, no +place that belonged to her. She had to spend her vacations +anywhere—sometimes at the school, sometimes with classmates. It was a +miserable life for a child. + +"She was always pretty—when she was little people used to stop on the +streets to look at her—and as she grew older she grew prettier. She was +charming, too, there was something about her very willfulness that was +captivating. The combination worried me; if she had had more balance, +been more reasonable, it wouldn't have mattered. But she was the kind +who is always full of wild enthusiasms, going off at a tangent about +this, that and the other. Not a promising temperament for a girl who has +to support herself. + +"A year ago I got her into a first class school near Chicago—I had met +the principal, who had been very kind and taken her at a greatly reduced +rate. It was to be her last year; in June she would graduate and with +her education finished, I felt sure I could get her a position in New +York where I could help her and watch over her. During the winter—last +winter—her letters made me uneasy. She was discontented, tired of +study, wanted to be out in the world doing something. I was prepared +for a struggle with her, but not for what happened. + +"One day—it was in March—I had a letter from her saying she had run +away from school, was in New York and was looking for a job. I was angry +and bitterly disappointed, also I was frightened—Florry in New York +without a cent, with no one to be with her, with no home or companion. I +went to the address she gave me and found her in the hall bedroom of a +third rate boarding house—a woman on the train had told her of it—full +of high spirits and a sort of childish joy at being free. She did not +understand my disappointment, laughed at my fears. I lost my temper, +said more than I ought—and—well, we had a quarrel, the first real one +we ever had. + +"That night I couldn't sleep, blaming myself, knowing that whatever she +did it was my duty to stand by her. The next day I went to the place and +found she'd gone, leaving no address. For three days I heard nothing +from her and was on the verge of going to you, Mrs. Janney, and +imploring your aid and advice, when a letter came. She was all right, +she had found paying employment, she was independent at last. In my +first spare hour I went to her and found her in another boarding house, +a cheap, shabby place, but decent. A good many working women lived +there, the better paid shop girls and heads of departments. It was +through one of these, a fitter, at Camille's, that she had got work. +With her beauty it had been easy—she had been employed as a model at +Camille's." + +"Camille's!" the word came on a startled note from Suzanne. Esther +turned to her: + +"Yes, Mrs. Price, and you saw her there—you ordered a dress from a +model that Florry wore." + +"The girl with the reddish hair—the tall girl?" + +"Yes, that was Florry. She told me afterward how she walked up and down +in front of you." + +"But—" Suzanne's voice showed an incredulous wonder, "she was +beautiful; they were all talking about her." + +"I said she was—I was not exaggerating. She was satisfied with her +work, liked it, I think she would have liked anything that was novel and +took her away from the grind of study. *I* didn't like it, but at least +it wasn't the stage, and I set about trying to find something better. +That was the situation till April and then—" She paused, her eyes +dropped to the floor. The color suddenly rose in her face and raising +them she shot a look at Ferguson. He answered it with a slight, almost +imperceptible nod and smiled in open encouragement. She took a deep +breath and addressed Mrs. Janney: + +"What I have to tell now isn't pleasant for me to say or for you to +hear, but I have to tell it for all the subsequent events grew from it. +Mr. Price had been to Camille's that first time with his wife." + +There was a slight stir in the listening company, a sudden focusing of +intent eyes on the girl, a waiting expectancy in the grave faces. She +saw it and answered it: + +"Yes, he saw Florry. He went again—Mrs. Price was buying several +dresses. After that second visit he waited one night at the side door +used for employees and spoke to her. I can't condone what she did, but I +can say in extenuation that she was very young, very inexperienced, that +she knew who Mr. Price was, and that she had never in her life met a man +of his attractions. + +"She didn't hide it from me, was frank and outspoken about the meeting +and his subsequent attentions. For he saw her often after that, took her +for walks on Sunday, sent her theater tickets and books. I was filled +with anxiety, besought of her to give it up, but she wouldn't, she +couldn't. Before I went to Grasslands I realized a situation was +developing that made me sick with apprehension. She was in love, madly +in love. I couldn't reason with her, I couldn't make her listen to me; +she was blind and deaf to anything but him and what he said. + +"I went to Mr. Price and implored him to leave her alone. I had to catch +him as I could—in the halls, at odd moments in the library, for he +hated the scenes I made and tried to avoid me. He assured me that he +meant no harm, that her position was hard and he was sorry for her. I +threatened to tell Mrs. Janney, and he said I could if I wanted, that he +would soon be done with them all and didn't care. I saw then that he +too, like Florry, was growing indifferent to everything but the hours +when they were together—that *he* was in love. + +"That was the situation when I went to Grasslands. It was much worse +there—I couldn't see her often, I was in ignorance of how things were +going with her, for her letters told me little. It was unbearable, and I +went into town whenever I could; all the extra holidays were asked for +so that I could go into the city and see how Florry was getting on. On +one of these visits she told me something that, at the time, I paid +little attention to, setting it down as one of her passing fancies; she +was interested in the working girls' unions. At Camille's and in the +boarding house she had fallen in with a group of girls of Socialistic +beliefs and, through them, had met their organizers and backers. She was +much more deeply involved than I guessed. Her fearlessness, her ardor +for anything new and exciting, making her a valuable addition to their +ranks. It carried her far, to the edge of tragedy." + +She turned to Mr. Janney: + +"Do you remember, Mr. Janney, one morning early in July, how I read you +an account of a strike riot among the shirtwaist makers when one of the +girls stabbed a policeman with a hatpin?" + +The old man nodded: + +"Yes, vaguely. I have a dim memory of arguing about it with you." + +"That was the time. Well, that girl was Florry. She lost her head +completely, stabbed the man, and in the tumult that followed, managed to +get away through the hall of a tenement house. She was hidden by friends +of hers, Russian socialists called Rychlovsky. I have met them; they +seem decent, kindly people, and they certainly were very good to her. +When I read you the article I had no more idea that the girl was Florry +than you had. It was not until the next morning that I received a letter +from her, telling me what she had done and where she was. + +"She wrote two letters, one to me and one to Mr. Price. He had told her +that he would spend his week-ends with the Hartleys at Cedar Brook and +she sent his there. Mine was delivered on the morning of July the +seventh but he did not get his until the same evening when he came to +Cedar Brook from the city. Each of us acted as promptly as we could, but +he went to her before I did, going in that night in his car. + +"It seems incredible that he should have done what he did, dared to +take such a risk. But when he found her cooped up in the rear room of a +tenement, lonely and frightened, he prevailed on her to go out with him +in his motor. He took her for a drive far up the Hudson, not returning +until after midnight. The Rychlovskys, who had missed her and were in a +state of alarm, were furious. When I went there the next day they were +vociferous in their desire to be rid of her, saying she would land them +all in jail. I was her sister; it was up to me, I must find another lair +for her. + +"I had heard of the house in Gayle Street from two girls, art students, +who had once lived there. It was the only place I could think of; and +when I found that the top floor was vacant, I realized that she could be +hidden in one of the rooms and no one suspect it was occupied. I engaged +it and paid the rent, telling the janitor the story of a friend coming +from the West. Then I took the key back to Florry. The Rychlovskys, +pacified by the thought that she would be out of their house, undertook +to furnish her with food. They made her promise that she would keep to +the room, light no gas at night, make no noise, and stay away from the +window. Florry was by this time thoroughly cowed and agreed to +everything. It was through their adroitness that the room passed as +vacant. They visited her in the evening, a time when many people came +and went in the house, bringing in her food and carrying away what was +left in newspapers. They had two extra keys made, one for me, one for +Mr. Price. I brought her money, Mr. Price books and magazines. He saw +her oftener than I did, and gave me news of her. This I asked him to do +by letter. I had once met him by Little Fresh Pond, and another time he +had telephoned. I was afraid of repeating the meeting at the pond—we +had both come upon Miss Rogers and Bébita on the way out—and I dreaded +being overheard at the 'phone. + +"All went well for two weeks, though we were terribly frightened, for +the policeman developed blood-poisoning, and for some time hung between +life and death. Then the Rychlovskys suggested a plan that seemed to me +the only way out of our dangers and difficulties. A friend of theirs, a +woman doctor, was one of a hospital unit sailing from Montreal to +France. This woman, allied with them in their Socialistic activities, +agreed to get Florry into her group as a hospital attendant, take her to +France and look after her. It struck us all as feasible and as lacking +in danger as any plan for her removal could be. The doctor was a woman +of high character who told the Rychlovskys she would keep Florry near +her as the unit was shorthanded and needed all the workers it could get. +The one person who showed no enthusiasm was Florry herself. I knew +perfectly what was the matter—she did not want to leave Chapman Price. +He tried to persuade her, was as worried and anxious as I was. The +situation between them had cleared to a definite understanding—when his +wife had obtained her divorce he would go to France and marry Florry +there. + +"And now I come to the day of the kidnaping, that dreadful, +unforgettable day! + +"The morning before—Thursday—I had seen her and found her in a state +of nervous indecision, weeping and miserable. I knew I was to be in town +with Mrs. Price the next day and told her if I could get time I would +come to her. Mrs. Price had told me how we were to divide the errands +and I realized, if I could finish mine earlier than she expected, I +would have a chance of seeing Florry. I had just been paid my salary and +that, with some money I had saved, I brought with me. My intention was +to give all this to Florry and implore her to go with the hospital unit, +which was scheduled to leave Montreal early the following week. + +"Things worked out as I had hoped. The commissions took less time than +Mrs. Price had calculated and I found that I would be able to spend a +few minutes with Florry. In case Bébita should mention the excursion +downtown, I ordered the driver to drop me at a bookbindery on the corner +of Gale Street. I could easily explain our stop there by saying that I +had left a book to be bound. + +"When I reached the room I found her in a state of hysterical +terror—she said the house was watched. Peeping out through the coarse +lace curtains that veiled the window, she had several times noticed a +man lounging about the corner. At first she had thought nothing of him, +but the day before he had reappeared, and stayed about the block most of +the afternoon covertly watching the entrance and the upper floor. I was +nearly as frightened as she was—the thing was only too probable. There +was no difficulty in getting her to go with the hospital ship. She had +only stayed on in the hope of seeing me and having me tell her what to +do. + +"I gave her the money and told her to wait until nightfall and then slip +out and go to the Rychlovskys. They had promised to help her in any way +they could, and with Bébita waiting in the cab, I couldn't go with her. +It was a simply hideous position to have to leave her that way. But it +was all I could think of—it came so unexpectedly I was stunned by it. + +"When I reached the bookbindery the taxi was gone! Can you imagine what +I felt? I told the truth when I said my first thought was that Bébita +might have played a joke on me. I *did* think that, for my mind, +confused and crowded with deadly fears, could not take in a new +catastrophe. Then, when I saw Mrs. Price and realized that the child +had mysteriously disappeared, while with *me*, while in *my* +charge—I—well, I hope I'll never have to live over moments like those +again. I had to keep one fact before my mind—to be quiet, to be cool, +not to do or say anything that might betray Florry. If I'd known what +you suspected, I couldn't have done it. But, of course, I hadn't any +idea then you thought I was implicated. + +"Florry had told me she would communicate with Mr. Price and he would +give me word of her. The telephone message that Miss Rogers tapped was +that word; all I received. It relieved me immensely, I began to feel the +dreadful strain relaxing, I began to think we were on the high road to +safety. And then came that day here in the office. Shall I ever forget +it!" + +She turned to Mrs. Janney: + +"If I had had the least idea of what was going to be done here, I would +have tried to get to you and have thrown myself on your mercy. But I was +completely unsuspecting and unprepared, and with Mr. Whitney as the +judge, representing the law, I did not dare to tell the truth, I *had* +to lie. + +"As you saw, I lied as well as I could, puzzled at first, not knowing +what you were getting at, to what point it was all leading. Then, when +you caught me with the tapped message, I saw—I guessed how +circumstances had woven a net about me. I realized there was nothing to +be done but let you believe it, let you do what you wanted with me. You +couldn't *make* me speak, and if I could stay silent till Florry was in +Europe, hidden, lost in the chaos of a country at war, it would be all +right." + +She swept their faces with a glance, half pleading, half triumphant. + +"She is there now—this morning Mr. Price had a cable from her. I have +told this to Mr. Whitney as well as the rest because I have +thought—shut up in O'Malley's flat I had much time for thinking things +out straight and clear—that after my explanation, no one would want, no +one would dare, to bring that unfortunate girl back here to face a +criminal charge. She has had her lesson, she will never forget it, the +man she wounded is back on the force as good as ever. No human being +with a conscience and a heart—" she looked at Whitney—"and you have +both—could want to make her pay more bitterly than she has. She is +safe, under intelligent supervision. She can work, be useful, where her +youth and strength and enthusiasm are needed. I did not trust you +before, Mr. Whitney, but I do now and I know that my trust is not +misplaced." + +A murmur, a concerted sound of agreement, came from her listeners. +Whitney, pushing his chair back from the desk, said gravely: + +"You can rest assured, Miss Maitland, that the matter will die here with +us to-day. As you say, your sister has had her punishment. She will stay +in France of course?" + +"Yes, make her home there, I think. When Mr. Price is free he is to go +over and marry her. He intends to sell his business out and offer his +services to the French government." + +There was a moment of silence, then Mrs. Janney spoke, clearing her +throat, her face flushed with feeling: + +"As you've said, Miss Maitland, none of this would have happened if +you'd seen fit to come to me. But it's no use going over that now—we've +all made mistakes and we're all sorry. What we—the Janneys—want to do +is to be fair, to be just, and now—if it is not too late—to make +amends. The only way you can show your willingness to forget and +forgive, is to come back at once to Grasslands and take things up where +you left them." + +The girl for a moment did not answer, her face reddening with a sudden +embarrassment. Mrs. Janney saw the blush, read it as reluctance and +exclaimed: + +"Oh, Miss Maitland, don't say you refuse. It's as if you wouldn't take +my hand held out in apology, in friendship." + +"No, no"—Esther was obviously distressed—"don't think that, Mrs. +Janney, it's not that. It's that I can't—I've—I've made another +engagement—I'm going to marry Mr. Ferguson." + + + + +CHAPTER XXX—MOLLY'S STORY +========================= + +It's my place to finish, tell the end of the story and straighten it all +out. Some of it's been cleared up clean, with the people on the spot to +give the evidence, some of it we had to work out from what we knew and +what we guessed. Willitts, who was a gamy guy, told his tale from start +to finish, and loved doing it, they said, like an actor who'd rather be +dead in the spotlight than alive in the wings. Larkin's part we had to +put together from what we could get from Bébita and what Mrs. Price gave +up. + +Bébita, the way children do, saw plain and could tell what she saw as +accurate as a phonograph. It made tears come to hear the dear little +thing, so sweet and innocent, making us see that even the crooks she was +with couldn't help but love her. + +When Miss Maitland got out of the taxi at the bookbindery the driver +told the child that he knew her Daddy and could take her round to see +him while Miss Maitland was in the store. He said it wouldn't take long, +that Mr. Price was close by, and they would come back in a few minutes +and pick up Miss Maitland. Bébita was crazy to go, and he started, +giving her a box of chocolates to eat on the way. Of course she never +could tell where he went but it could not have been a long distance, or +Larkin—we all were agreed that he drove the cab—couldn't have reached +the Fifth Avenue house as soon as he did. The place was evidently a flat +over a garage. He told her her father was waiting there, went upstairs +with her, and gave her in charge of a woman called Marion who opened the +door for them. + +During the whole time she was gone she stayed here with Marion, who +every morning assured her her Daddy would come that day. She said Marion +was very good to her, gave her toys and candies, cooked her meals and +played games with her. She cried often and was homesick, and Marion +never scolded her but used to take her in her arms and kiss her and tell +her stories. She never saw the man again until he came to take her away, +but sometimes the bell rang and Marion went out on the stairs and talked +to some one. + +One evening Marion said she was going home; it would be a long drive and +she must be a good girl. Marion dressed her and then gave her a glass of +milk, and kissed her a great many times and cried. Bébita cried too, for +she was sorry to leave Marion, but she wanted to go home. After that the +man came and took her downstairs to the taxi and told her to be very +quiet and she'd soon be back at Grasslands. It was dark and they went +through the city and then she got very sleepy and laid down on the seat. + +No trace of Marion, Larkin's confederate, could be found, and in fact no +especial effort was made to do so. The man was dead, the woman, who had +evidently treated the child with affectionate care, had fled into the +darkness where she belonged. The family, even Mrs. Janney, was contented +to let things drop and make an end. + +When it came to Larkin we had to piece out a good deal. We agreed that +he had started in fair and honest, had tried to make good and had +failed. At just what point he changed we couldn't be sure, but Ferguson +thought it was after Mrs. Price threatened to end the investigation. +Then he realized that his big chance was slipping by, determined to get +something out of it, and hit on the kidnaping. It was easy to see how he +could worm all the data he wanted out of Mrs. Price. From what she said +he'd evidently pumped her at their last meeting in town, finding out +just what her plans were, even to the fact that she intended taking the +extra cab from the rank round the corner. *I* thought that one thing +might have given him the whole idea. + +When they stopped at the book bindery he heard Miss Maitland tell Bébita +she would be gone a few minutes and knew that was his opportunity. He +took the child to the place he had ready for her, made a quick +change—not more than the shedding of his coat, cap and goggles—and ran +his car into the garage below, which of course he must have rented. Then +he lit out for the Fifth Avenue house, a bit late but ready to report in +case Miss Maitland didn't show up before him. Miss Maitland did—he must +have seen her go in—but he rang just the same, which showed what a +cunning devil he was. + +He must have been surprised when he didn't see anything in the papers, +but after he'd written the first "Clansmen" letter to Mrs. Price she +explained that and it made it smoother sailing for him. Knowing her as +well as he did, he planned the letters to scare her into silence, and +saw before he was through he had her exactly in the state he wanted. The +one place where his plot was weak was that an outsider had to drive the +rescue car. But he had to take a chance somewhere, and this was the best +place. He'd fixed it so neat that even if the outsider had informed on +him, he'd have been wary, and, as Ferguson thought, not shown up at all. + +He'd done it well; as well, we all agreed, as it could be done. What had +beaten him had been no man's cleverness, just something that neither he, +nor you, nor any of us could have foreseen. Ain't there a proverb about +the best laid plans of mice and men slipping up when you least expect +it? It was like the hand of something, that reached out sudden and came +down hard, laid him dead in the moment when the goal was in sight. + +As to Willitts, he was some boy! They found out that he was wanted in +England, well-known there as an expert safe-cracker and notorious jewel +thief. That's where he's gone, to live in a quiet little cell which will +be his home from this time forth. He said he hadn't been in New York +long before he heard of the Janney jewels and went into Mr. Price's +service. But he couldn't do anything while the family were in town. The +safe was right off the pantry—too many people about—and anyway it was +a new one, the finest kind, that would have baffled even his skill. He +would have left discouraged but one day Dixon let drop that the safe at +Grasslands was old-fashioned, put in years before by the former owners, +so he stayed on devoted and faithful. + +At Grasslands he had lots of time to try his hand on the ancient +contraption in the passage. He worked on it until he found the +combination and then he lay low for his opportunity. When the row came +and Mr. Price left, he stayed on with him. It was the best thing to do +as he could run in and out from Cedar Brook seeing the servants, with +whom he was careful to be friendly. + +Before this he'd got wise to the fact that something was up between Miss +Maitland and Mr. Price. He said it was his business to snoop and his +profession had got him into the way of doing it instinctive, but I'd +set it down as coming natural. Anyway he'd found out that there was a +secret between them; he'd surprise them murmuring in the hallways and +the library, quieting down quick if any one came along. He made the same +mistake as the rest of us, thought it was an affair of the heart and +grew mighty curious about it. He didn't explain why he was interested, +but if you asked me I'd say he had blackmail in the back of his head. + +On the afternoon of July the seventh he biked down from Cedar Brook to +take a look round and see how things were progressing. Familiar with the +ways of the house, he knew the family would be out and stole round past +Miss Maitland's study. No one was there, and, curious as he was, he +slipped in to do a little spying—Miss Maitland and Mr. Price separated +would be writing to each other and a letter might throw some light on +the darkness. + +He rummaged about among the papers but found nothing. Scattered over the +desk were bits of the trimming Miss Maitland had been sewing on; a pile +of the little rosebuds was lying on the top of her work basket. Reaching +over toward a bunch of letters he upset the basket, and, scared, he +swept up the contents with his handkerchief, putting them back as quick +as he could. This was the way he explained the presence of the rose in +the safe. He was shocked at any one thinking that he had tried to throw +suspicion on such a fine young lady. That night, taking the jewels, hot +and nervous, his glasses had blurred the way they do when your face +perspires. He had whisked out his handkerchief to wipe them, and no +doubt a rosebud lodged in the folds had fallen to the ground. Mr. +Ferguson didn't believe this—he thought the rose *was* a plant—but I +*did*. It was one of those queer, unexpected things that will happen and +that, for me, always puts a crimp in circumstantial evidence. + +After that he went round to the kitchen and heard of the general sortie +for that evening. Then he knew the time had come. He biked back to Cedar +Brook, saw Mr. Price, and went to his lodgings. Here he found his +landlady's child sick with croup and offered to go for the doctor, whose +house was not far from Berkeley. It fitted in just right, for if there +was any inquiry into his movements he could furnish a good reason why he +was late at the movies. Before he got to Grasslands he hid his wheel by +the roadside and took a short cut through the woods, lying low on the +edge of them until he saw the kitchen lights go out. Crossing the lawn, +the dogs ran at him barking, then got his scent and quieted down. At the +balcony he slipped off his rain coat, put on sneakers, unlocked the +front door with Mr. Price's key, and crept in. The job didn't take him +ten minutes; just as he finished he saw the box of Mr. Janney's cigars +and helped himself to one. He rubbed off his finger prints with an acid +used for that purpose, left the broken chair just where it was and +departed. + +In the woods he lit the cigar, carelessly throwing the band on the +ground. Fifteen minutes later he was at the movies with the Grasslands +help. When he saw in the papers that a light had been seen by the safe +at one-thirty every fear he had died, for at that time he was back at +Cedar Brook helping his landlady look after the sick child. + +He was too smart a crook to disappear right on top of the robbery, and +hung around saying he was looking for another place. He met up with +Larkin but at first didn't know he was a detective. When the offer came +from Ferguson he took it, intending to stay a while, then say his folks +in the old country needed him and slip away to Spain. It was the day +after he'd accepted Ferguson's offer that he learned what Larkin was, +and saw that both he and the Janneys had their suspicions of Chapman +Price. This disturbed him, but he couldn't throw up the job he'd just +taken without exciting remark. To be ready, however, he dug up the +jewels—he'd buried them in the woods—and put them handy under the +flooring of his room. + +One day, looking over Ferguson's things, he came on the cigar band in +the box on the bureau. It gave him a jar, for he couldn't see why it was +put there. He'd heard from the servants about Ferguson and Miss Maitland +walking home that night through the woods and began to wonder if maybe +they'd found the band. The thought ruffled him up considerably, and then +he put it out of his mind, telling himself it was one from a cigar +Ferguson had brought from Grasslands and smoked in his room. +Nevertheless, to be on the safe side, he threw it away, very much on the +alert, as you may guess. + +It wasn't a week later that he had the interview with Ferguson about the +band. Then he saw by the young man's manner and words why the little +crushed circle of paper had a meaning of its own, and knew that the time +had come to vanish. He still felt safe enough to do this without haste, +not rousing any suspicion by a too sudden departure. His opportunity +came quickly—on Friday morning he heard Ferguson tell the butler that +he was going to town and would be away for a day or two; by the time he +came back his valet would be far afield. + +Right after Ferguson's departure he put the jewels in a bag, and, +telling the butler the boss had given him the day and night off, +prepared to leave. He was crossing the hall when the telephone rang—my +message—and being wary of danger, answered it. It was only a lady +asking for Mr. Ferguson, and, calm and steady as his voice had made me, +started out for the station. Mice and men again!—I was the mouse this +time. Gracious, what a battered mouse I was! + +Well—that's all. The tangled threads are straightened out and the word +"End" goes at the bottom of this page. I'm glad to write it, glad to be +once again where you can say what you think, and talk to people like +they were harmless human beings without any dark secrets in their pasts +or presents, and, Oh, Gee, how glad I am to be home! Back in my own +little hole, back where there's only one servant and she a coon, back +where I'm familiar with the food and know how to eat it, and blessedest +of all, back to my own true husband, who thinks there's no sun or moon +or stars when I'm out of the house. I'm going to get a new rug for the +parlor, a fur-trimmed winter suit, a standing lamp with a Chinese shade, +a pair of skates—oh, dear, I'm at the bottom of the page and there's no +room for "End," but I *must* squeeze in that I got that reward—Mrs. +Janney said I'd earned every penny of it—and a wrist watch with a +circle of diamonds round it from Dick Ferguson, and—oh, pshaw! if I +keep on I'll never stop, so here goes, on a separate line + +.. class:: center + +THE END +------- + +.. class:: x-large + +BOOKS BY GERALDINE BONNER + + | `Miss Maitland, Private Secretary` + | `Treasure and Trouble Therewith` + | `The Girl at Central` + | `The Black Eagle Mystery` + +| +| +| +| +| + +.. _pg_end_line: + +\*\*\* END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISS MAITLAND PRIVATE SECRETARY \*\*\* + +.. backmatter:: + +.. toc-entry:: + :depth: 0 + +.. _pg-footer: + +A Word from Project Gutenberg +============================= + +We will update this book if we find any errors. + +This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/35504 + +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 http://www.gutenberg.org/license. + +Title: Miss Maitland Private Secretary + +Author: Geraldine Bonner + +Release Date: March 06, 2011 [EBook #35504] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISS MAITLAND PRIVATE +SECRETARY *** + + + + +Produced by Darleen Dove, Mary Meehan, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. + +This file was produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries. + + + + MISS MAITLAND PRIVATE SECRETARY + BY GERALDINE BONNER + + + + + AUTHOR OF "THE EMIGRANT TRAIL," "THE GIRL AT CENTRAL," "TREASURE AND + TROUBLE THEREWITH," ETC. + + + + + ILLUSTRATED BY + A. I. KELLER + + + + + D. APPLETON AND COMPANY + NEW YORK LONDON + 1919 + + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY + D. APPLETON AND COMPANY + + + + + COPYRIGHT 1918, 1919, BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY + + + + + PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA + + + + +[Illustration: _Rising into the white wash of moonlight came Suzanne_] + + + + +CONTENTS + + + - LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + - CHAPTER I--THE PARTING OF THE WAYS + - CHAPTER II--MISS MAITLAND GETS A LETTER + - CHAPTER III--ANOTHER LETTER AND WHAT FOLLOWED IT + - CHAPTER IV--THE CIGAR BAND + - CHAPTER V--ROBBERY IN HIGH PLACES + - CHAPTER VI--POOR MR. JANNEY! + - CHAPTER VII--CONCERNING DETECTIVES + - CHAPTER VIII--MOLLY'S STORY + - CHAPTER IX--GOOD HUNTING IN BERKELEY + - CHAPTER X--MOLLY'S STORY + - CHAPTER XI--FERGUSON'S IDEA + - CHAPTER XII--THE MAN WHO WOULDN'T TELL + - CHAPTER XIII--MOLLY'S STORY + - CHAPTER XIV--A CHAPTER ABOUT BAD TEMPERS + - CHAPTER XV--WHAT HAPPENED ON FRIDAY + - CHAPTER XVI--MOLLY'S STORY + - CHAPTER XVII--MISS MAITLAND IN A NEW LIGHT + - CHAPTER XVIII--THE HOUSE IN GAYLE STREET + - CHAPTER XIX--MOLLY'S STORY + - CHAPTER XX--MOLLY'S STORY + - CHAPTER XXI--SIGNED "CLANSMEN" + - CHAPTER XXII--SUZANNE FINDS A FRIEND + - CHAPTER XXIII--MOLLY'S STORY + - CHAPTER XXIV--CARDS ON THE TABLE + - CHAPTER XXV--MOLLY'S STORY + - CHAPTER XXVI--THE COUNTER PLOT + - CHAPTER XXVII--NIGHT ON THE CRESSON PIKE + - CHAPTER XXVIII--THE MAN IN THE BOAT + - CHAPTER XXIX--MISS MAITLAND EXPLAINS + - CHAPTER XXX--MOLLY'S STORY + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + +Rising into the white wash of moonlight came Suzanne +You've done one thing to me that you are going to regret +His face was ludicrous in its enraged enmity +Ferguson saw him in silhouette, a large, humped body with bent head + + + MISS MAITLAND PRIVATE SECRETARY + + + + + +CHAPTER I--THE PARTING OF THE WAYS + + +Chapman Price was leaving Grasslands. Events had been rapidly advancing +to that point for the last three months, slowly advancing for the last +three years. Everybody who knew the Prices and the Janneys said it was +inevitable, and people who didn't know them but read about them in the +"society papers" could give quite glibly the reasons why Mrs. Chapman +Price was going to separate from her husband. + +His friends said it was her fault; Suzanne Price was enough to drive any +man away from her--selfish, exacting, bad tempered, a spoiled child of +wealth. Chappie had been a first-rate fellow when he married her and +she'd nagged and tormented him past bearing. _Her_ friends had a +different story; Chapman Price was no good, had neglected her, was an +idler and a spendthrift. Hadn't the Janneys set him up in business over +and over and found it hopeless? What he had wanted was her money, and +people had told her so; her mother had begged her to give him up, but +she would have him and learned her lesson, poor girl! Those in the +Janney circle said there would have been a divorce long before if it +hadn't been for the child. _She_ had held them together, kept them in a +sort of hostile, embattled partnership for years. And then, finally, +that link broke and Chapman Price had to go. + +There had been a last conclave in the library that morning, Mrs. Janney +presiding. Then they separated, silent and gloomy--a household of eight +years, even an uncongenial one, isn't broken up without the sense of +finality weighing on its members. Chapman had gone to his rooms and +flung orders at his valet to pack up, and Suzanne had gone to hers, +thrown herself on the sofa, and sniffed salts with her eyes shut. Mr. +and Mrs. Janney repaired to the wide shaded balcony and there talked it +over in low tones. They were immensely relieved that it was at last +settled, though of course there would be the unpleasantness of a divorce +and the attending gossip. Mr. Janney hated gossip, but his wife, who had +risen from a Pittsburg suburb to her present proud eminence, was too +battle-scarred a veteran to mind a little thing like that. + +As they talked, their eyes wandered over a delightful prospect. First a +strip of velvet lawn, then a terrace and balustraded walk, and beyond +that the enameled brilliance of long gardens where flowers grew in +masses, thick borders, and delicate spatterings, bright against the +green. Back of the gardens were more lawns, shaven close and dappled +with tree shadows, then woods--Mrs. Janney's far acres--on this fine +morning all shimmering and astir with a light, salt-tinged breeze. +Grasslands was on the northern side of Long Island, only half a mile +from the Sound through the seclusion of its own woods. + +It was quite a show place, the house a great, rambling, brown building +with slanting, shingled roofs and a flanking rim of balconies. Behind it +the sun struck fire from the glass of long greenhouses, and the tops of +garages, stables and out-buildings rose above concealing shrubberies and +trellises draped with the pink mantle of the rambler. Mrs. Janney had +bought it after her position was assured, paying a price that made all +Long Island real estate men glad at heart. + +Sitting in a wicker chair, a bag of knitting hanging from its arm, she +looked the proper head for such an establishment. She was fifty-four, +large--increasing stoutness was one of her minor trials--and was still a +handsome woman who "took care of herself." Her morning dress of white +embroidered muslin had been made by an artist. Her gray hair, creased by +a "permanent wave," was artfully disposed to show the fine shape of her +head and conceal the necessary switch. She was too naturally endowed +with good taste to indicate her wealth by vulgar display, and her hands +showed few rings; the modest brooch of amethysts fastening the neck of +her bodice was her sole ornament. And this was all the more commendable, +as Mrs. Janney had wonderful jewels of which she was very proud. + +Five years before, she had married Samuel Van Zile Janney, who now sat +opposite her clothed in white flannels and looking distressed. He was a +small, thin, elderly man, with a pointed gray beard and a general air of +cool, dry finish. No one had ever thought old Sam Janney would marry +again. He had lost his wife ages ago and had been a sort of historic +landmark for the last twenty years, living desolately at his club and +knowing everybody who was worth while. Of course he had family, endless +family, and thought a lot of it and all that sort of thing. So his +marriage to the Pittsburg widow came as a shock, and then his world +said: "Oh, well, the old chap wants a home and he's going to get it--a +choice of homes--the house on upper Fifth Avenue, the place at Palm +Beach and Grasslands." + +It had been a very happy marriage, for Sam Janney with his traditions +and his conventions was a person of infinite tact, and he loved and +admired his wife. The one matter upon which they ever disagreed was +Suzanne. She had been foolishly indulged, her caprices and extravagances +were maddening, her manners on occasions extremely bad. Mr. Janney, who +had beautiful manners of his own, deplored it, also the amount of money +her mother allowed her; for the fortune was all Mrs. Janney's, Suzanne +having been left dependent on her bounty. + +His wife, who had managed everything else so well, resented these +criticisms on what should have been the completest example of her +competence. She also resented them because she knew they were true. With +all her cleverness and all her capability she had not succeeded with her +daughter. The girl had got beyond her; the unfortunate marriage with +Chapman Price had been the climax of a youth of willfulness and +insubordination. Suzanne's affairs, Suzanne's future, Suzanne herself +were subjects that husband and wife avoided, except, as in the present +instance, when they were the only subjects in both their minds. + +Presently their low-toned murmurings were interrupted by the appearance +of Dixon, the butler, announcing lunch. + +"Mrs. Price," he said, "will not be down--she has a headache." + +Mrs. Janney rose, looking at the man. He had been in her service for +years, was one of the first outward and visible signs of her growth in +affluence. She was sure that he knew what had happened, but her face was +unrevealing as a mask, as she said: + +"See that she gets something. Will Mr. Price take his lunch upstairs?" + +"No, Madam," returned the man quietly, "Mr. Price is coming down." + +It was a ghastly meal--three of them eating sumptuous food, waited on by +two men hardly less silent than they were. It wouldn't have been so +unbearable if Bebita, Suzanne's daughter, had been there to lift the +curse off it with her artless chatter, or Esther Maitland, the social +secretary, who had acquired a habit of talking with Mr. Janney when the +rest of the family were held in the dumbness of wrath. But Bebita was +spending the morning with a little chum and Miss Maitland was lunching +with a friend in the village. + +Chapman Price, as if anxious to show how little he cared, ate everything +that was passed, and prolonged the misery by second helpings. Mrs. +Janney could have beaten him, she was so angry. Once she glanced at him +and met his eyes, insolently defiant, and as full of hostility as her +own. They were vital eyes, dark and bold, and were set in a handsome +face. At the time of his marriage he had been known as "Beauty Price" +and it was his good looks which had caught the capricious fancy of +Suzanne. In the eight years since then they had suffered, the firmly +modeled contours had grown thin and hard, the mouth had set in an ugly +line, the brows had creased by a frown of sulky resentment. But he was +still a noticeable figure, six feet, lean and agile, with a skin as +brown as a nut and a crown of black hair brushed to a glossy smoothness. +Many women continued to describe Chapman Price as "a perfect Adonis." + +When they rose from the table he stood aside to let his parents-in-law +pass out before him. They brushed by, feeling exceedingly uncomfortable +and wanting to get away as quickly as their dignity would permit. They +dreaded a last flare-up of his temper, notoriously violent and +uncontrolled, one of the attributes that had made him so unacceptable. +In the hall at the stair foot they half turned to him, swept him with +cold looks and were mumbling vague sounds that might have been dismissal +or farewell, when he suddenly raised his voice in a loud, combative +note: + +"Oh, don't bother to be polite. There's no love between us and there +needn't be any hypocrisies. You want to get rid of me and I want to go. +But before I do, I'd like to say something." He drew a step nearer, his +face suddenly suffused with a dark flush, his eyes set and narrowed. +"You've done one thing to me that you're going to regret--stolen my +child. Yes," in answer to a protesting sound from Mr. Janney, "_stolen_ +her--that's what I said. You think you can hide behind your money bags +and do what you like. Maybe you can nine times, but there's a tenth when +things don't work the way you've expected. Watch out for it--it's due +now." + + +[Illustration: _You've done one thing to me that you are going to +regret_] + + +His voice was raised, loud, furious, threatening. The dining room door +flew open and Dixon appeared on the threshold in alarmed consternation. +Mr. Janney stepped forward belligerently: + +"Chapman, now look here--" + +Mrs. Janney laid a hand on her husband's arm: + +"Don't answer him, Sam," then to Chapman, her face stony in its +controlled passion, "I want no more words with you. Our affairs are +finished. Kindly leave the house as soon as possible." She turned to the +butler who was staring at them with dropped jaw: "Shut that door, Dixon, +and stay where you belong." The sound of footsteps at the stair-head +caught her ear. "The other servants are coming: we'll have an audience +for this pleasant scene. We'd better go, Sam, as Chapman doesn't seem to +have heard my request for him to leave, the only thing for us is to +leave ourselves." + +She swept her husband off across the hall toward the balcony. Behind +them the young man's voice rose: + +"Oh don't have any fears. I'm going. But I may come back--that's what +you want to remember--I may come back to settle the score." + +Then they heard his footsteps mounting the stairs in a long, leaping +run. + +In his own room he found his valet, Willitts, a small, fair-haired young +Englishman, closing the trunks. The door was open and he had a suspicion +that the footsteps Mrs. Janney had heard were probably Willitts'. He +didn't care, he didn't care what Willitts had heard. The man knew +anyhow; they _all_ knew. There wasn't a servant in the house or a soul +in the village who wouldn't by to-morrow be telling how the Janneys had +thrown him out and were planning to get possession of his child. + +He strode about the room, tumbled the neat piles of cravats and +handkerchiefs on the bureau, yanked up the blinds. In his still seething +passion he muttered curses at everything, the clothes that lay across +chair backs, the boots that he kicked as he walked, finally the valet +who once got in his way. The man made no answer, did not appear to +notice it, but went on with his work, silent, unobtrusive, competent. +Presently Chapman became quieter; the storm was receding. He fell into a +chair, sat sunk in moody reflection, and, after studying the shining +toes of his shoes for some minutes, looked at the man and said, "Forget +it, Willitts. I was mad straight through." + +It may have been a capacity to make such amends that caused all servants +to like Chapman Price. Willitts, who had been in his service for nearly +a year, was known to be devoted to him. + +An hour later, when they left, the house had an air of desertion. The +large lower hall, with vistas of stately rooms through arched doorways, +was as silent as the Sleeping Beauty's palace. Chapman's glance swept it +all--rich and still, gleams of parquette showing beyond the Persian +rugs, curtains too heavily splendid for the breeze to stir, flowers in +glowing masses, the big motor, visible through the wide-flung hall door, +a finishing touch in the picture. It was the perfect expression of a +carefully devised luxury, a luxury which for the last eight years had +lapped him in slothful ease. + +As he came out on the verandah steps a voice hailed him and he stopped, +the sullen ill humor of his face breaking into a smile. Across the lawn, +running with fleet steps, came his daughter Bebita. Laughing and gay +with welcome, she was as fresh as a morning rose. Her hat, slipped to +her neck, showed the glistening gold of her hair back-blown in ruffled +curls; her rapid passage threw her dress up over her bare, sunburned +knees, and her little feet in black-strapped slippers sped over the +grass. Healthy, happy, surrounded by love which she returned with a +child's sweet democracy, she was enchanting and Chapman adored her. + +"Where are you going, Popsy?" she cried and, dodging round the back of +the motor, came panting up the steps. Chapman sat down on the top, and +drew her between his knees. Otto, the chauffeur, and Willitts with the +bags, watched them with covert interest, ready to avert their eyes if +Chapman should look their way. The nurse, an elderly woman, came slowly +across the grass, also watching. + +"To town," said the young man, scrutinizing the lovely, rosy face, with +its deep blue eyes raised to his. + +"For how long?" She was used to her father going to town and not +reappearing for several days. + +"Oh, I don't know; longer than usual, though, I guess. Going to miss +me?" + +"Um, I always miss you, Popsy. Will you bring me something when you come +back?" + +"Yes, or maybe I'll send it. What do you want?" + +"A 'lectric torch--one that shines. Polly's got one"--Polly was the +little friend she had been visiting--"I want one like Polly's." + +"All right. A 'lectric torch." + +"I'm going to get one, Annie," she cried triumphantly to the nurse; +"Popsy's going to send me one." Then turning back to her father, "Take +me to the station with you?" + +Willitts and the chauffeur exchanged a glance. The nurse made a quick +forward movement, suddenly gently authoritative: + +"No, no, darling. You can't drive now. It's time to go in and take jour +rest." + +Bebita looked mutinous, but her father, drawing her to him and kissing +her, rose: + +"I can't honey-bun. I'm in a hurry and there wouldn't be any fun just +driving down to the village and back. You run along with Annie now and +as soon as I get to town I'll buy you the torch and send it." + +The nurse mounted the steps, took the child's hand, and together they +stood watching Chapman as he got in. Willitts took the seat beside the +chauffeur, adroitly disposing his legs among a pile of suitcases, golf +bags, umbrellas and walking sticks. As the car started Chapman looked +back at his daughter. She was regarding him with the intent, grave +interest, a little wistful, with which children watch a departure. At +the sight of his face, she smiled, pranced a little, and called: + +"Good-by, Popsy dear. Don't forget the torch. Come back soon," and waved +her free hand. + +Chapman gave an answering wave and the big car rolled off with a cool +crackle of gravel. + +The village--the spotless, prosperous village of Berkeley enriched by +the great estates about it--was a half mile from Grasslands' +wrought-iron gates. The road passed through woods, opening here and +there to afford glimpses of emerald lawns backed by large houses, with +the slope of awnings above their balconies. On either side of this +highway ran a shady path, worn hard by the feet of pedestrians and the +wheels of bicycles. + +As the Janney motor turned out into the road a young woman was walking +along one of these paths, returning to Grasslands. She appeared to be +engrossed in thought, her step loitering, her eyes down-cast, a slight +line showing between her brows. Out of range of the sun she had let her +parasol droop over her shoulder and its green disk made a charming +background for her head. She wore no hat and against the taut silk her +hair showed a glossy, burnished brown. It was beautiful hair, growing +low on her forehead and waving backward in loose undulations to the +thick knot at the nape of her neck. Her skin was pale, her eyes, under +long brows that lifted slightly at the outer ends, deep-set, narrow and +dark. She was hardly handsome, but people noticed her, wondered why they +did, and then said she was "artistic-looking," or maybe it was just +personality; anyway, say what you like, there was something about her +that caught your eye. Dressed entirely in white, a slim, sunburned hand +coiled round the parasol handle, her throat left bare by a sailor +collar, she was as trim, as flecklessly dainty, graceful and comely as a +picture-girl painted on the green canvas of the trees. + +At the sight of her Chapman, who had been lounging in the tonneau, +started and his morose eye brightened. As the motor ran toward her, she +looked up, saw who it was, and in the moment of passing, inclined her +head in a grave salutation. Chapman leaned forward and touched the +chauffeur on the shoulder. + +"Just stop for a minute, Otto, I want to speak to Miss Maitland." + +She did not see that the car had stopped or hear the footstep on the +grass behind her. Chapman's voice was low: + +"Hullo, Esther. Don't be in such a hurry. I'm going." + +She wheeled, evidently startled, her face disturbed and unsmiling. + +"Oh! Do you mean _really_ going?" + +"Yes. Parting of the ways--all that sort of thing." + +He eyed her with a curious, watching interest and she returned the look, +her own uneasily intent. + +"Why do you stop to tell me that," was what she said. "Everybody knew it +was coming." + +He shrugged and then smiled, a smile full of meaning: + +"I thought you'd like to hear it--from _me_, first hand. I'll be a free +man in a year." + +She stood for a moment looking at the ground, then lifting the parasol +over her head, said: + +"If you're going to catch the three forty-five you'd better hurry." + +His smile deepened, showed a roguish malice, and as he turned from her, +raising his hat, he murmured just loud enough for her to hear: + +"Thanks for reminding me. I wouldn't miss that train for a farm--I'm +devilish keen to get to the city." + +He ran back to the waiting motor and the girl resumed her walk, her step +even slower than before, her face down-drooped in frowning reverie. + +There was no chair car on the three forty-five and Chapman had to travel +in the common coach, Willitts and the luggage crowded into the seat +behind him. It was an hour and a half run to the Pennsylvania Station +and he spent the time thinking over the situation and arranging his +future. His business--Long Island real estate--had been allowed to go to +the dogs. He would have to get busy in earnest, and, with his friends +and large acquaintance to throw things in his way, he could put it on a +paying basis. His expenses would have to be cut down to the bone. He'd +give up his chambers, a suite in a bachelor apartment--Willitts could +find him a cheap room somewhere--and of course he'd give up Willitts. +That had been already arranged and the faithful soul had asked leave to +help him in the move and stay with him till a new job was found. He +would keep his car--it would be necessary in his business--and could be +stored in the garage at Cedar Brook where he'd spend his week-ends with +the Hartleys. Joe Hartley was one of his best friends, knew all about +his marriage and had counseled a separation more than a year ago. He'd +probably spend a good deal of his time at Cedar Brook, it was a growing +place; unfortunate that it should be the next station after Berkeley, +but it could not be helped. He was bound to run into the Janney outfit +and he'd have to get used to it. + +The train was entering the tunnel when he gave Willitts his +instructions--go to the apartment and pack up, then see about a room. He +himself would look up some places he knew of, and if he found anything +suitable he'd come back to the apartment and the things could be moved +to-morrow. They separated in the depot, Willitts and the luggage in a +taxi, Chapman on foot. But that part of the city to which he took his +way, dingy, unkempt, remote from the section where his kind dwelt, was +not a place where Chapman Price, fallen from his high estate as he was, +would have chosen to house himself. + + + + +CHAPTER II--MISS MAITLAND GETS A LETTER + + +It was Thursday morning, three days after her husband's departure, and +Suzanne was sitting in the window seat of her room looking across the +green distances to where the roof of Dick Ferguson's place, Council +Oaks, rose above the tree tops. Council Oaks adjoined Grasslands, there +was a short cut which connected them--a path through the woods. Before +Mrs. Janney bought Grasslands the path had become moss-grown, almost +obliterated. Then when she took possession the two households wore it +bare again. The servants found it shortened the walk from kitchen to +kitchen; Mr. Janney often footed its green windings; Dick Ferguson's +father had been one of his cronies, and Dick Ferguson himself was the +most constant traveler of them all. + +Council Oaks was a very old place; it had been in the Ferguson family +since the days when the British governors rolled over Long Island in +their lumbering coaches. Before that the Indians had used it for a +council ground, their tepees pitched under the shade of the four giant +oaks from which it took its name. The Fergusons had kept the farm house, +built after the Revolution, adding wings to it, till it now extended in +a long, sprawl of white buildings, with the original worn stone as a +step to its knockered front door, and the low, raftered ceilings, plank +floors, and deep-mouthed fireplaces of its early occupation. + +There Dick Ferguson lived all summer, going to town at intervals to +attend to the business of the Ferguson estate, for, like the young man +in the Bible, he had great possessions. The dead and gone Fergusons had +been canny and thrifty, bought land far beyond the city limits and sat +in their offices and waited until the town grew round it. It was known +among the present owner's intimates that he disapproved of this method +of enrichment, and that his extensive charities and endowments were an +attempt to pay back what he felt he owed. He was very silent about them, +only a few knew of the many secret channels through which the Ferguson +millions were being diverted to the relief of the people. + +But none of this seriousness showed on the outside. If you didn't know +him well Dick Ferguson was the last person you would suspect of a sense +of responsibility or a view of life that was anything but easy-going and +light-hearted. People described him as a nice chap, not a bit spoiled by +his money, just a big, jolly boy, simple and unaffected. He looked the +part with his long, lank figure, leggy as a young colt, his shock of +light brown hair that never would lie flat, his freckled, irregular face +with gray eyes that had an engaging way of closing when he laughed. He +did this a good deal and it may have been one of the reasons why so many +people liked him. And he also had a capacity for listening to +long-winded tales of trouble, which may have been another. He was +twenty-nine years old and still unmarried, and that was his own fault as +any one would tell you. + +When Sam Janney married the Pittsburg widow Dick Ferguson became a +friend of the family. He fitted in very well, for he was sympathetic and +understanding and the Janneys had troubles to tell. He heard all about +Chapman's shortcomings; a little from old Sam who was not expansive, +more from Mrs. Janney, and most from Suzanne. He was very sorry for her +and gave her good advice. "A poor little bit of bluff," he called her to +himself, and then would stroll over to Grasslands and spend an hour with +her trying to cheer her up. + +He spent a good many hours this way and the time came when Suzanne began +to wait and watch for his coming. + +Sitting now in the cushioned window seat she was wondering if he would +come that morning and she could get him off in the garden and tell him +that Chapman was gone. She saw herself saying it with lowered eyes and +delicately demure phrases. She would frankly admit she was glad it was +over, glad she would be free once more, for in the autumn she would go +to Reno and begin proceedings for a divorce. + +At this thought she subsided against the cushions, and closed her eyes +smiling softly. Seen thus, the bright sunlight tempered by filmy +curtains, she was a pretty woman, looking very girlish for her +twenty-eight years. This was partly due to her extreme slenderness and +partly to her blonde coloring. Both had been preserved with sedulous +care: the one matter in which she exercised self-restraint was her food, +the one occasion on which she showed patience was when her maid was +washing her hair with a solution of peroxide. + +Every window in the large, luxurious room was open and through them +drifted a flow of air, scented with the sea and the breath of flowers. +Then rising on the stillness came the sound of voices--a man's and a +woman's--from the balcony below. They were Mr. Janney's and Miss +Maitland's--the secretary was preparing to read the morning papers to +her employer. + +Suzanne opened her eyes and sat up, the smile dying from her lips. The +dreamy complacence left her face and was replaced by a look of brooding +irritation. It changed her so completely that she ceased to be +pretty--suddenly showed her years, and was revealed as a woman, already +fading, preyed upon by secret vexations. + +She rose adjusting her dress, a marvelous creation of thin white +material with floating edges of lace. She went to the mirror, powdered +her face and touched her lips with a stick of red salve, then studied +her reflection. It should have been satisfying, delicate, fragile, a +lovely, ethereal creature, with baby blue eyes and silky, maize-colored +hair. It was not to be believed that any man could look at Esther +Maitland when she was by--and yet--and yet--! She turned from the mirror +with an angry mutter and went downstairs. + +On the balcony Miss Maitland was looking over the papers with Mr. Janney +opposite waiting to be read to. Suzanne sat down near them where she +could command the place in the woods where the path from Council Oaks +struck into the lawn. With a sidelong eye she noted the Secretary's hand +on the edge of the paper--narrow, satin-skinned, with fingers finely +tapering and pink-tipped. _Her_ fingers were short and spatulate, +showing her common blood, and all the pink on them had to be applied +with a chamois. Miss Maitland began to read--the war news first was the +rule--and her voice was a pleasure to hear, cultivated, soft, musical. +Suzanne, for all her expensive education and subsequent efforts, had +never been able to refine hers; the ugly Pittsburg burr would crop out. + +A gnawing fancy that she had been fighting against for weeks rose +suddenly into jealous conviction. This girl--a penniless nobody--had a +quality, an air, a distinction, that she with all her advantages had +never been able to acquire, _could_ never acquire. It was something +innate, something you were born with, something that made you fitted for +any sphere. Immovable, apparently absorbed in the reading, Suzanne began +to think how she could induce her mother to dispense with the services +of the Social Secretary. + +When the war news was finished Miss Maitland passed on to the news of +the day. On this particular morning it was varied and interesting: A +Western senator had attacked the President's policy with unseemly vigor; +the mysterious murder of a woman in Chicago had developed a new suspect; +a California mob had nearly killed a Japanese student; and in the New +York loft district a strike of shirtwaist makers had attained the +proportions of a riot in which one of the pickets had stabbed a +policeman with a hatpin. + +Mr. Janney was shocked at these horrors, but he always liked to hear +them. Miss Maitland had to stop reading and listen to a theory he had +evolved about the Chicago murder--it was the woman's husband and he +demonstrated how this was possible. Then he took up the shirtwaist +strike with a fussy disapproval--they got nothing by violence, only set +the public against them and their cause. Miss Maitland was inclined to +argue about it; thought there was something to say for their methods and +said it. + +Suzanne listened uncomprehending, unable to join in or to follow. She +had heard such arguments before and had to sit silent, feeling a fool. +The girl didn't know her place, talked as if she were their equal, +talked to Dick that way, and Dick had been interested, giving her an +attention he never gave Suzanne. Mr. Janney was doing it now, leaning +out of his chair, voicing his hope that a speedy vengeance would +overtake the picket who had made her escape in the melee. + +The conversation was brought to an end by the appearance of Mrs. Janney. +It was time for the mail; Otto had gone for it an hour ago. Before its +arrival Mrs. Janney wanted their answers about two dinner invitations +which had just come by telephone. One was for herself and Sam--Sunday +night at the Delavalles--and the other was from Dick Ferguson for +to-night--all of them, very informally--just himself and Ham Lorimer who +was staying there. + +Mr. Janney agreed to both and in answer to her mother's glance Suzanne +said languidly, "Yes, she'd go to-night--there was nothing else to do." + +"And he wants you too, Miss Maitland," said Mrs. Janney, turning to the +Secretary. "You'll come, won't you?" + +Miss Maitland said she would and that it was very kind of Mr. Ferguson +to ask her. Mr. and Mrs. Janney exchanged a gratified glance; they were +much attached to the Secretary and felt that their lordly circle ignored +her existence more than was necessary or kindly. Suzanne said nothing, +but the edges of her small upper teeth set close on her under lip, and +her nostrils quivered with a deep-drawn breath. + +Mrs. Janney gave orders for messages of acceptance to be sent, then sank +into a chair, remarking to her husband: + +"I'm glad you'll go to the Delavalles. It's to be a large dinner. I'll +wear my emeralds." + +To which Mr. Janney murmured: + +"By all means, my dear. The Delavalles will like to see them." + +Mrs. Janney's emeralds were famous; they had once belonged to Maria +Theresa. As old Sam thought of them he smiled, for he knew why his wife +had decided to wear them. In her climbing days, before her marriage to +him had secured her position, the Delavalles had snubbed her. Now she +was going to snub them, not in any obvious, vulgar way, but finely as +was her wont, with the assistance of himself and Maria Theresa. + +The motor came into view gliding up the long drive and the waiting group +roused into expectant animation. Mr. Janney rose, kicking his trouser +legs into shape, Miss Maitland gathered up the papers, and Mrs. Janney +went to the top of the steps. In the tonneau, her body encircled by +Annie's restraining arm, Bebita stood, waving an electric torch and +caroling joyfully: + +"It's come--it's come. It was sent to me, in a box, with my name on it." + +She leaped out, rushing up the steps to display her treasure, Annie +following with the mail. There was quite a bunch of it which Mrs. Janney +distributed--several for Sam, a pile for herself, one for Suzanne and +one for Miss Maitland. They settled down to it amid a crackling of torn +envelopes, Bebita darting from one to the other. + +She tried her mother first: + +"Mummy, look. You just press this and the light comes out at the other +end." + +Suzanne's eyes on her letter did not lift, and Bebita laid a soft little +hand on the tinted cheek: + +"Mummy, do _please_ look." + +Suzanne pushed the hand away with an angry movement. + +"Let me alone, Bebita," she said sharply and, getting up, thrust the +child out of her way and went into the house. + +For a moment Bebita was astonished. Her mother, who was so often cross +to other people, was rarely so to her. But the torch was too enthralling +for any other subject to occupy her thoughts and she turned to her +grandfather, reading a business communication held out in front of his +nose for he had on the wrong glasses. She crowded in under his arm and +sparked the torch at him waiting to see his delighted surprise. But he +only drew her close, kissed her cheek and murmured without moving his +eyes: + +"Yes, darling. It's wonderful." + +That was not what she wanted so she tried her grandmother: + +"Gran, _do_ look at my torch." + +Gran looked, not at the torch at all but at Bebita's face, smiled into +it, said, "Dearest, it's lovely and I'm so glad it's come," and went +back to her reading. + +It was all disappointing, and Bebita, as a last resource, had to try +Miss Maitland, who, if not a relation, was always sympathetic and +responsive. The Secretary was reading too, holding her letter up high, +almost in front of her face. Bebita laid a sly finger on the top of it, +drew it down and sparked the torch right at Miss Maitland. + +In the shoot of brilliant light the Secretary's face was like that of a +stranger--hard and thin, the mouth slightly open, the eyes staring +blankly at Bebita as if they had never seen her before. For a second the +child was dumb, held in a scared amazement, then backing away she +faltered: + +"Why--why--how funny you look!" + +The words seemed to bring Miss Maitland back to her usual, pleasant +aspect. She drew a deep breath, smiled and said: + +"I was thinking, that was all--something I was reading here. The torch +is beautiful; you must let me try it, but not now, I have to go. I've +read the papers to Gramp and I've work to do in my study." + +Any one who knew Miss Maitland well might have noticed a forced +sprightliness in her voice. But no one was listening; Suzanne had gone +and Mr. and Mrs. Janney were engrossed in their correspondence. She +stole a look at them, saw them unheeding and, with a farewell nod to +Bebita, rose and crossed the balcony. As she entered the house, the will +that had made her smile, maintained her voice at its clear, fresh note, +relaxed. Her face sharpened, its soft curves grew rigid, her lips closed +in a narrow line. With noiseless steps she ran through the wide foyer +hall and down a passage that led to the room, reserved for her use and +called her study. Here, locking the door, she came to a stand, her hands +clasped against her breast, her eyes fixed and tragic, a figure of +consternation. + + + + +CHAPTER III--ANOTHER LETTER AND WHAT FOLLOWED IT + + +Suzanne, her letter crumpled in her hand, had gone directly to her own +room. There she read it for the second time, its baleful import sinking +deeper into her consciousness with every sentence. It was in typewriting +and bore the Berkeley postmark: + + "_Dear Mrs. Price_: + + "This is just a line to give your memory and your conscience a + jog. Your bridge debts are accumulating. Also, I hear, there are + dressmakers and milliners in town who are growing restive. If + there was insufficient means I wouldn't bother you, but any one + who dresses and spends as you do hasn't that excuse. Perhaps you + don't know what is being said and _felt_. Believe me you + wouldn't like it; neither would Mrs. Janney. It is for her sake + that I am warning you. I don't want to see her hurt and + humiliated as she would be if this comes out in _The + Eavesdropper_, and it will unless you act quickly. 'There's a + chiel among you takin' notes' and that chiel's had a line on you + for some time. So take these words to heart and as the boys say, + 'Come across.' + + "_A Friend._" + +Ever since the opening of the season the summer colony of which Berkeley +was the hub had been the subject of paragraphs--more or less +scandalous--appearing in _The Eavesdropper_. The paper, a scurrilous +weekly, had evidently some inside informer, for most of the disclosures +were true and could only have been obtained by a member of the +community. Suzanne, whose debts would make racy reading, had quaked +every time she opened it. So far she had been spared, and she had hoped +to escape by a gradual clearing off of her obligations. But she had not +been able to do it--unforeseen things had happened. And now the dreaded +had come to pass--she would be written up in _The Eavesdropper_. + +Though her allowance had been princely she had kept on going over it +ever since her marriage and her mother had kept on covering the deficit. +But last autumn Mrs. Janney had lost both patience and temper and put +her foot down with a final stamp. Then the winter had come, a feverish, +crowded winter of endless parties and endless card playing, and Suzanne +had somehow gone over it again, gone over--she didn't dare to think of +what she owed. Tradespeople had threatened her, she was afraid to go to +her mother, she told lies and made promises, and at that juncture a +woman friend acquainted her with the mystery of stocks--easy money to be +made in speculation. She had tried that and made a good deal--almost +cleared her score--and then in April all her stocks suddenly went down. +Inquiries revealed the fact that stocks did not always stay down and +reassured she set forth on a zestful orgy of renewed bridge and summer +outfitting. But the stocks never came up, they remained down, as far +down as they could get, against the bottom. + +She felt as if she was there herself as she reviewed her position. + +She couldn't let it be known. She would be ruined, called dishonest; the +yellow papers might get it--they were always writing things against the +rich. Dick Ferguson would see it, and he despised people who didn't pay +their bills; she had heard him say so to Mr. Janney, remembered his tone +of contempt. There would be no use lying to him for she felt bitterly +certain that Mr. Janney had told him what her mother gave her. There was +nothing for it but to go to Mrs. Janney and she quailed at the thought, +for her mother, forgiving unto seventy times seven, at seventy times +eight could be resolute and relentless. But it was the one way out and +she had to take it. + +When no engagements claimed her afternoons Mrs. Janney went for a drive +at four. At lunch she announced her intention of going out in the open +car and asked if any of the others wanted to come. All refused: Mr. +Janney was contemplating a ride, Suzanne would rest, Miss Maitland had +some sewing to do on her dress for that evening. Both Suzanne and Miss +Maitland were very quiet and appeared to suffer from a loss of appetite. +After the meal the Secretary went upstairs and Suzanne followed. + +She waited until Mr. Janney was safely started on his ride, then, +feeling sick and wan, crossed the hall to her mother's boudoir. Mrs. +Janney was at her desk writing letters, with Elspeth, her maid, a +gray-haired, sturdy Scotch woman, standing by the table opening packages +that had just arrived from town. Elspeth, like most of Mrs. Janney's +servants, had been in her employ for years, entering her service in the +old Pittsburg days and being promoted to the post of personal attendant. +She knew a good deal about the household, more even than Dixon, admired +and respected her mistress and disliked Suzanne. + +The young woman's first remark was addressed to her, and, curtly +imperious, was of a kind that fed the dislike: + +"Go. I want to talk to Mrs. Janney." + +"That'll do, Elspeth," said Mrs. Janney quietly. "Thank you very much. +I'll finish the others myself." Then as the woman withdrew into the +bedroom beyond, "I wish you wouldn't speak to Elspeth that way, Suzanne. +It's bad taste and bad manners." + +Suzanne was in no state to consider Elspeth's feelings or her own +manners. She was so nervous that she blundered into her subject without +diplomatic preliminaries, gaining no encouragement from her mother's +face, which, at first startled, gradually hardened into stern +indignation. + +It was a hateful scene, degenerated--anyway on Suzanne's part--into a +quarrel, a bitter arraignment of her mother as unloving and ungenerous. +For Mrs. Janney refused the money, put her foot down with a stamp that +carried conviction. She was even grimmer and more determined than her +daughter had expected, the girl's anger and upbraidings ineffectual to +gain their purpose as spray to soften a rock. Her decision was ruthless; +Suzanne must pay her own debts, out of her own allowance. Yes, even if +she was written up in the papers. That was _her_ affair: if she did +things that were disgraceful she must bear the disgrace. The interview +ended by Suzanne rushing out of the room, a trail of loud, clamorous +sobs marking her passage to her own door. + +When she had gone Mrs. Janney broke down and cried a little. She had +thought the girl improved of late, less selfish, more tender. And now +she had been so cruel; the charge of a lack in love had pierced the +mother's heart. Mr. Janney, returned from his ride, found her there, +looking old, her eyes reddened, her voice husky. When he heard the +story, he took her hand and stroked it. His tact prevented him from +saying what he felt; what he did say was: + +"That bridge money'll have to be paid." + +"It will _all_ have to be paid," Mrs. Janney sighed, "and I'll have to +pay it as I always have. But I'm going to frighten her--let her think I +won't--for a few days anyway. It's all I can do and it may have some +effect." + +Her husband agreed that it might but his thoughts were not hopeful. +There always had to be a crumpled rose leaf and Suzanne was theirs. + +He accompanied his wife on her drive and was so understanding, so +unobtrusively soothing and sympathetic, that when they returned she was +once more her masterful, competent self. Noting a bank of storm clouds +rising from the east, she told Otto to bring the limousine when he came +for them at a quarter to eight. Inside the house she summoned Dixon and +said as the family would be out "the help"--it was part of her +beneficent policy to call her retinue by this name when speaking to any +of its members--could go out that night if they so willed. Dixon +admitted that they had already planned a general sortie on "the movies" +in the village. All but Hannah, the cook, who had "something like +shooting pains in her feet, and Delia, the second housemaid, who'd got +an insect in her eyes, Madam. But it wasn't the hurt of it that kept her +in, only the look which she didn't want seen." + +At seven the storm drove up, black and lowering, and the rain fell in a +torrent. It was still falling when Mr. and Mrs. Janney descended the +stairs, a little in advance of the time set, for, while dressing, Mrs. +Janney had decided that her costume needed a brightening touch, which +would be suitably imparted by her opal necklace. This, being rarely +worn, was kept with the more valuable jewels in the safe of which +Elspeth did not know the combination. Of course Mrs. Janney did, and at +the foot of the stairs she turned into a passage which led from the +foyer hall into the kitchen wing. It was a short connecting artery of +the great house, lit by two windows that gave on rear lawns, and at +present encumbered by a chair standing near the first window. Mrs. +Janney recognized the chair as one from her sitting room which had been +broken and which Isaac, the footman, had said he could repair. She gave +it a proprietor's inspecting glance, touched the wounded spot, and +encountering wet varnish, warned Mr. Janney away. + +In the wall opposite the windows the safe door rose black and +uncompromising as a prison entrance. It was large and old fashioned--put +in by the former owner of Grasslands. Mrs. Janney talked of having a +more modern one substituted but hadn't "got round to it," and anyway Mr. +Janney thought it was all right--burglaries were rare in Berkeley. The +silver had already been stored for the night, the bosses of great bowls, +flowered rims, and filagree edgings shining from darkling recesses. The +electric light across the hallway did not penetrate to the side shelves +and Mr. Janney had to assist with matches while his wife felt round +among the jewel cases, opening several in her search. Finally they +emerged, Mrs. Janney with the opals which after some straining she +clasped round her neck, while Sam closed the door. + +As they reentered the main hall Suzanne came down the stairs, tripping +daintily with small pointed feet. She was very splendid, her slenderness +accentuated by the length of satin swathed about her, from which her +shoulders emerged, girlishly fragile. She was also very much made up, of +a pink and white too dazzlingly pure. With her blushing delicacy of +tint, her angry eyes and sulkily drooping mouth, Mr. Janney thought she +looked exactly like a crumpled rose leaf. + +"Where's Miss Maitland?" she said to him, ostentatiously ignoring her +mother. + +Before he could answer Esther's voice came from the hall above: + +"Coming--coming. I hope I haven't kept you," and she appeared at the +stair-head. + +The dress she wore, green trimmed with a design of small, pink chiffon +rosebuds and leaves, was the realized dream of a great Parisian +_faiseur_. It had been Mrs. Janney's who, considering it too youthful, +had given it to her Secretary. Its vivid hue was singularly becoming, +lending a warm whiteness to the girl's pale skin, bringing out the rich +darkness of her burnished hair. Her bare neck was as smooth as curds, +not a bone rippled its gracious contours; the little rosebuds and leaves +that edged the corsage looked like a garland painted on ivory. + +It was a good dinner, but it was not as jolly as Dick Ferguson's dinners +usually were. Before it was over the rain stopped and a full moon shone +through the dining room windows. Suzanne had hoped she and Dick could +saunter off into the rose garden and have that talk about Chapman, but +he showed no desire to do so. They sat about in long chairs on the +balcony and she had to listen to Ham Lorimer's opinions on the war. + +As soon as the motor came she wanted to go--she was tired, she had a +headache. It was early, only a quarter past ten, and the night was now +superb, the sky a clear, starless blue with the great moon queening it +alone. Mr. Janney would have liked to linger--he always enjoyed an +evening with Dick--but she was petulantly perverse, and they moved to +the waiting car with Ferguson in attendance. + +Mrs. Janney settled herself in the back seat, Suzanne, lifting +shimmering skirts, prepared to follow, while Miss Maitland waited humbly +to take what room was left among their assembled knees. She was close to +Ferguson who was helping Suzanne in, and looking up at the sky murmured +low to herself: + +"What a glorious night!" + +Ferguson heard her and dropped Suzanne's arm. + +"Isn't it? Too good to waste. Does any one want to walk back to +Grasslands?" + +Suzanne, one foot on the step, stopped and turned to him. Her lips +opened to speak, and then she saw the back of his head and heard him +address Esther: + +"How about it, Miss Maitland? You're a walker, and it's only a step by +the wood path. We can be there almost as soon as the car." + +"You'll get wet," said Mrs. Janney, "the woods will be dripping." + +Mr. Janney remembered his youth and egged them on: + +"Only underfoot and they can change their shoes. Dick's right--it's too +good to waste. I'd go myself but I'm afraid of my rheumatism. Hurry up, +Suzanne, and get in. They want to start." + +Miss Maitland said she wasn't afraid of the wet and that it would not +hurt her slippers. Suzanne entered the car and sunk into her corner. As +it rolled away Mr. and Mrs. Janney looked back at the two figures in the +moonlight and waved good-byes. Suzanne sat motionless; all the way home +she said nothing. + + + + +CHAPTER IV--THE CIGAR BAND + + +Esther and Ferguson walked across the open spaces of lawn and then +entered the woods. Ferguson had set the pace as slow, but he noticed +that she quickened it, faring along beside him with a light, swift step. +He also noticed that she was quiet, as she had been at dinner; as if she +was abstracted, not like herself. + +He had seen a good deal of her lately and thought of her a good +deal--thought many things. One was that she was interesting, provocative +in her quiet reserve, not as easy to see through as most women. She was +clever, used her brains; he had formed a habit of talking to her on +matters that he never spoke of with other girls. And he admired her +looks, nothing cheap about them; "thoroughbred" was the word that always +rose to his mind as he greeted her. It seemed to him all wrong that she +should be working for a wage as the Janneys' hireling, for, though he +was "advanced" in his opinions, when it came to women there was a strain +of sentimentality in his make-up. + +On the wood path he let her go ahead, seeing her figure spattered with +white lights that ran across her shoulders and up and down her back. +They had walked in silence for some minutes when he suddenly said: + +"What's amiss?" + +She slackened her gait so that he came up beside her. + +"Amiss? With what, with whom?" + +"You. What's wrong? What's on your mind?" + +A shaft of moonlight fell through a break in the branches and struck +across her shoulder. It caught the little rosebuds that lay against her +neck and he saw them move as if lifted by a quick breath. + +"There's nothing on my mind. Why do you think there is?" + +"Because at dinner you didn't eat anything and were as quiet as if there +was an embargo on the English language." + +"Couldn't I be just stupid?" + +He turned to her, seeing her face a pale oval against the silver-moted +background: + +"No. Not if you tried your darndest." + +Dick Ferguson's tongue did not lend itself readily to compliments. He +gave forth this one with a seriousness that was almost solemn. + +She laughed, the sound suggesting embarrassment, and looked away from +him her eyes on the ground. Just in front of them the woodland roof +showed a gap, and through it the light fell across the path in a +glittering pool. As they advanced upon it she gave an exclamation, +stayed him with an outflung arm, and bent to the moss at her feet: + +"Oh, wait a minute--How exciting! I've found something." + +She raised herself, illumined by the radiance, a small object that +showed a golden glint in her hand. Then her voice came deprecating, +disappointed: + +"Oh, what a fraud! I thought it was a ring." + +On her palm lay what looked like a heavy enameled ring. Ferguson took it +up; it was of paper, a cigar band embossed in red and gold. + +"Umph," he said, dropping it back, "I don't wonder you were fooled." + +"It was right there on the moss shining in the moonlight. I thought I'd +found something wonderful." She touched it with a careful finger. "It's +new and perfectly dry. It's only been here since the storm." + +"Some man taking a short cut through the woods. Better not tell Mrs. +Janney, she doesn't like trespassers." + +She held it up, moving it about so that the thick gold tracery shone: + +"It's really very pretty. A ring like that wouldn't be at all bad. +Look!" she slipped it on her finger and held the hand out studying it +critically. It was a beautiful hand, like marble against the blackness +of the trees, the band encircling the third finger. + +Ferguson looked and then said slowly: + +"You've got it on your engagement finger." + +"Oh, so I have." Her laugh came quick as if to cover confusion and she +drew the band off, saying, as she cast it daintily from her finger-tips, +"There--away with it. I hate to be fooled," and started on at a brisk +pace. + +Ferguson bent and picked it up, then followed her. He said nothing for +quite suddenly, at the sight of the ring on her finger, he had been +invaded by a curious agitation, a gripping, upsetting, disturbing +agitation. It was so sharp, so unexpected, so compelling in its rapid +attack, that his outside consciousness seemed submerged by it and he +trod the path unaware of his surroundings. + +He had never thought of Esther Maitland being engaged, of ever marrying. +He had accepted her as some one who would always be close at hand, +always accessible, always in town or country to be found at the +Janneys'. And the ring had brought to his mind with a startling +clearness that some day she _might_ marry. Some day a man would put a +ring on that finger, put it on with vows and kisses, put it on as a sign +and symbol of his ownership. Ferguson felt as if he had been shaken from +an agreeable lethargy. He was filled with a surge of indignation, at +what he could not exactly tell. He felt so many things that he did not +know which he felt the most acutely, but a sense of grievance was mixed +with jealousy and both were dominated by an angry certainty that any man +who aspired to her would be unworthy. + +When they emerged into the open he looked at her with a new +expression--questioning, almost fierce and yet humble. Sauntering at her +side across the lawn he was so obsessed with these conflicting emotions +that he said not a word, and hardly heard hers. The Janneys were +awaiting them on the balcony steps and after an exchange of good-nights +he turned back to the wood trail and went home. In his room he threw +himself on the sofa and lay there, his hands clasped behind his head, +staring at the ceiling. It was long after midnight when he went to bed, +and before he did so he put the cigar band in the jewel box with the +crystal lid that stood on the bureau. + +The Janney party trailed into the house, Sam stopping to lock the door +as the ladies moved to the stair foot. Suzanne went up with a curt +"good-night" to her mother, and no word or look for the Secretary. +Esther did not appear to notice it and, pausing with her hand on the +balustrade, proffered a request--could she have to-morrow, Saturday, to +go to town? She was very apologetic; her day off was Thursday and she +had no right to ask for another, but a friend had unexpectedly arrived +in the city, would be there for a very short time and she was extremely +anxious to see her. Mrs. Janney granted the favor with sleepy +good-nature and Miss Maitland, very grateful, passed up the stairs, the +old people dragging slowly in her wake, dropping remarks to one another +between yawns. + +A long hall crossed the upper floor, one side of which was given over to +the Price household. Here were Suzanne's rooms, Chapman's empty +habitation, and opposite them Bebita's nurseries. The other side was +occupied on the front by Mrs. Janney and the Secretary with a line of +guest chambers across the passage. In a small room between his wife's +and his stepdaughter's Mr. Janney had ensconced himself. He liked the +compact space, also his own little balcony where he had his steamer +chair and could read and sun himself. As the place was much narrower +than the apartments on either side a short branch of hall connected it +with the main corridor. His door, at the end of this hall, commanded the +head of the stairway. + +Mr. Janney had a restless night; he knew he would have for he had taken +champagne and coffee and the combination was always disturbing. When he +heard the clocks strike twelve he resigned himself to a _nuit blanche_ +and lay wide awake listening to the queer sounds that a house gives out +in the silent hours. They were of all kinds, gurglings and creaks coming +out of the walls, a series of small imperative taps which seemed to +emerge from his chest of drawers, thrummings and thrillings as if winged +things were shut in the closets. + +Half-past twelve and one struck and he thought he was going off when he +heard a new sound that made him listen--the creaking of a door. He +craned up his old tousled head and gave ear, his eyes absently fixed on +the strips and spots of moonlight that lay white on the carpet. It was +very still, not a whisper, and then suddenly the dogs began to bark, a +trail of yaps and yelps that advanced across the lawn. Close to the +house they subsided, settling down into growls and conversational +snufflings, and he sank back on his pillow. But he was full of nerves, +and the idea suddenly occurred to him that Bebita might be sick, it +might have been the nursery door that had opened--Annie going to fetch +Mrs. Janney. He'd take a look to be sure--if anything was wrong there +would be a light. + +He climbed out of bed and stole into the hall. No light but the moon, +throwing silvery slants across the passage and the stair-head, and +relieved, he tiptoed back. It was while he was noiselessly closing his +door that he heard something which made him stop, still as a statue, his +faculties on the qui vive, his eye glued to the crack--a footstep was +ascending the stairs. It was as soft as the fall of snow, so light, so +stealthy that no one, unless attentive as he was, would have caught it. +Yet it was there, now and then a muffled creak of the boards emphasizing +its advance. The corridor at the head of the stairs was as bright as day +and with his eye to the crack he waited, his heart beating high and +hard. + +Rising into the white wash of moonlight came Suzanne, moving with +careful softness, her eyes sending piercing glances up and down the +hall. Her expression was singular, slightly smiling, with something sly +in its sharpened cautiousness. As she rose into full view he saw that +she held her wrapper bunched against her waist with one hand and in the +other carried Bebita's torch. He was so relieved that he made no move or +sound, but, as she disappeared in the direction of her room, softly +closed his door and went back to bed. + +She had evidently left something downstairs, a book probably--he could +not see what she had in the folds of the wrapper--and had gone to get +it. If she was wakeful it was a good sign, indicated the condition of +distressful unease her mother had hoped to create. Such alarm might lead +to a salutory reform, a change, if not of heart, of behavior. Comforted +by the thought, he turned on his pillow and at last slept. + + + + +CHAPTER V--ROBBERY IN HIGH PLACES + + +The next morning Mr. Janney had to read the papers to himself for Miss +Maitland went to town on the 8:45. He sat on the balcony and missed her, +for the Chicago murder had developed several new features and he had no +one to talk them over with. Suzanne, who never came down to breakfast, +appeared at twelve and said she was going to the Fairfax's to lunch with +bridge afterward. Though she was not yet aware of Mrs. Janney's +intention to once more come to her aid, her gloom and ill-humor had +disappeared. She looked bright, almost buoyant, her eyes showing a +lively gleam, her lips parting in ready smiles. She was going to the +beach before lunch, and left with a large knitting bag slung from her +arm, and a parasol tilted over her shoulder. It was not until she was +half way across the lawn that old Sam remembered her nocturnal +appearance which he had intended asking her about. + +She was hardly out of sight when Bebita and Annie came into view on the +drive, returning from the morning bath. Bebita had a trouble and raced +up the steps to tell him--she had lost her torch. She was quite +disconsolate over it; Annie had said they'd surely find it, but it +wasn't anywhere, and she _knew_ she'd left it on the nursery table when +she went to bed. In the light of subsequent events Mr. Janney thought +his answer to the child had been dictated by Providence. Why he didn't +say, "Your mother knows; she had it last night," he never could explain; +nor what prompted the words, "Ask your mother; she's probably seen it +somewhere." Bebita accepted the suggestion with some hope and then, +hearing that her mother would not be home until the afternoon, fell into +momentary dejection. + +Mrs. Janney was to take her accustomed drive at four and her husband +said he would go with her. Some time before the hour he appeared on the +balcony, cool and calm, his poise restored after the trials of the +previous day and the disturbed night, and sat down to wait. Inside the +house his wife was busy. Several important papers had come on the +morning mail and these, with the opals, she decided to put in the safe +before starting. After they were stored in their shelves and the opals +back in their box she could not resist a look at her emeralds, of all +her material possessions the dearest. She lifted the purple velvet case +and opened it--the emeralds were not there. + +She stood motionless, experiencing an inner sense of upheaval, her heart +leaping and then sinking down, her body shaken by a tremor such as the +earth feels when rocked by a seismic throe. She tried to hold herself +steady and opened the other cases--the two pearl necklaces, the sapphire +riviere, the diamond and ruby tiara. As each revealed its emptiness her +hands began to tremble until, when she reached the white suede box of +the black pearl pendant, they shook so she could hardly find the clasp. +Everything was gone--a clean sweep had been made of the Janney jewels. + +Moving with a firm step, she went to the balcony. In the doorway she +came to a halt and said quietly to her husband: + +"Sam, my jewels have been stolen." + +Mr. Janney squared round, stared at her, and ejaculated in feeble +denial: + +"Oh _no_!" + +"Oh yes," she answered with the same note of grim control, "Come and +see." + +When he saw, his old veined hands shaking as they dropped the rifled +cases, he turned and blankly faced his wife who was watching him with a +level scrutiny. + +"Mary!" was all he could falter. "Mary, my _dear_!" + +"Last night," she nodded, "when we were out. The place was almost empty. +I'll call the servants." + +She went to the foot of the stairs and called Elspeth, old Sam, +bewildered by this sudden catastrophe, emerging from the safe, as pale +and shaken as if he was the burglar. + +"Last night, of course last night," he murmured, trying to think. "They +were here at eight. I saw them, we saw them, anybody could have seen +them." + +Elspeth appeared on the stairs and came running down, Mrs. Janney's +orders delivered like pistol shots upon her advance: + +"I've been robbed. The safe's been opened and all the jewels are gone. +Go and call the servants, every one of them. Tell them to come here at +once." + +Elspeth knew enough to make no reply, and, with a terrified face, +scudded past her mistress to the kitchen. Mrs. Janney, her attention +attracted by sounds of distracted amazement from her husband, mobilized +him: + +"Go and get Miss Maitland. We'll have to send for detectives. She can do +it--she doesn't lose her head." + +Mr. Janney, too stunned to be anything but meekly obedient, trotted off +down the hall to Miss Maitland's study, then stopped and came back: + +"She's in town; she hasn't got back yet." + +"Tch!" Mrs. Janney gave a sound of exasperation. "I'd forgotten it. How +maddening! You'll have to do it. Go in there to the 'phone"--she +indicated the telephone closet at the end of the hall. "Call up the +Kissam Agency--that's the best. We had them when the bell boy at +Atlantic City stole my sables. Get Kissam himself and tell him what's +happened and to take hold at once--to come now, not to waste a minute. +And don't you either--hurry!--" + +Mr. Janney hasted away and shut himself in the telephone closet, as the +servants, marshaled by Dixon and Elspeth, entered in a scared group. +They had been taking tea in their own dining room when Elspeth burst in +with the direful news. Eight of them were old employees--had been years +in Mrs. Janney's service. Hannah, the cook, had been with her nearly as +long as Dixon; Isaac, the footman, was her nephew. Dixon's large, +heavy-jowled face was stamped with aghast concern; the kitchen maid was +in tears. + +Mrs. Janney addressed them like what she was--a general in command of +her forces: + +"My jewels have been stolen. Some time last night the safe was opened +and they were taken. It is my order that every one of you stay in the +house, not holding communication with any one outside, until the police +have been here and made a thorough investigation. Your rooms and your +trunks will have to be searched and I expect you to submit to it +willingly with no grumbling." + +Dixon answered her: + +"It's what we'd expect, Madam. Me and Isaac both know the combination +and we'd want to have our own characters cleared as much as we'd want +you to get back your valuables." + +Hannah spoke: + +"We'd welcome it, Mrs. Janney. There's none of us wants any suspicion +restin' on 'em." + +Delia, the housemaid with the inflamed eye, took it up. She was a +newcomer in the household, and in her fright her brogue acquired an +unaccustomed richness: + +"God knows I was in my room at nine, and not a move out of me till sivin +the nixt mornin' and that's to-day." + +Mr. Janney, issuing from the telephone closet, here interrupted them. He +addressed his wife: + +"It's all right. I got Kissam himself. He'll be here on the 5:30." + +She answered with a nod and was turning for further instructions to +Dixon when Suzanne entered from the balcony. Up to that moment Mr. +Janney had forgotten all about his nocturnal vision; now it came back +upon him with a shattering impact. + +He felt his knees turn to water and his heart sink down to inner, +unplumbed depths in his anatomy. He grasped at the back of a chair and +for once his manners deserted him, for he dropped into it though his +wife was standing. + +"What's all this?" said Suzanne, coming to a halt, her glance shifting +from her mother to the group of solemn servants. She looked very pretty, +her face flushed, the blue tint of her linen dress harmonizing +graciously with her pink cheeks and corn-colored hair. + +Mrs. Janney explained. As she did so old Sam, his face as gray as his +beard, watched his stepdaughter with a furtive eye. Suzanne appeared +amazed, quite horror-stricken. She too sank into a chair, and listened, +open-mouthed, her feet thrust out before her, the high heels planted on +the rug. + +"Why, what an awful thing!" was her final comment. Then as if seized by +a sudden thought she turned on Dixon. + +"Were all the windows and doors locked last night?" + +"All on the lower floor, Mrs. Price. Me and Isaac went round them before +we started for the village, and there's not a night--" + +Suzanne cut him off brusquely: + +"Then how could any one get in to do it?" + +There was a curious, surging movement among the servants, a mutter of +protest. Mr. Janney intervened: + +"You'd better let matters alone, Suzanne. Detectives are coming and +they'll inquire into all that sort of thing." + +"I suppose I can ask a question if I like," she said pertly, then +suddenly; looking about the hall, "Where's Miss Maitland?" + +"In town," said her mother. + +"Oh--she went in, did she? I thought her day off was Thursday." + +"She asked for to-day--what _does_ it matter?" Mrs. Janney was irritated +by these irrelevancies and turned to the servants: "Now I've instructed +you and for your own sakes obey what I've said. Not a man or woman +leaves the house till after the police have made their search. That +applies to the garage men and the gardeners. Dixon, you can tell them--" +she stopped, the crunch of motor wheels on the gravel had caught her +ear. "There's some one coming. I'm not at home, Dixon." + +The servants huddled out to their own domain and Dixon, with a +resumption of his best hall-door manner, went to ward off the visitor. +But it was only Miss Maitland returning from town. She had several small +packages in her hands and looked pale and tired. + +The news that greeted her--Mrs. Janney was her informant--left her as +blankly amazed as it had the others. She was shocked, asked questions, +could hardly believe it. Old Sam found the opportunity a good one to +study Suzanne, who appeared extremely interested in the Secretary's +remarks. Once, when Miss Maitland spoke of keeping some of her books and +the house-money in the safe, he saw his stepdaughter's eyelids flutter +and droop over the bird-bright fixity of her glance. + +It was at this stage that Bebita ran into the hall and made a joyous +rush for her mother: + +"Oh, Mummy, I've _waited_ and _waited_ for you,"--she flung herself +against Suzanne's side in soft collision. "I've lost my torch and I've +asked everybody and nobody's seen it. Do _you_ know where it is?" + +Suzanne arched her eyebrows in playful surprise, then putting a finger +under the rounded chin, lifted her daughter's face and kissed her, +softly, sweetly, tenderly. + +"Darling, I'm so sorry, but I haven't seen it anywhere. If you can't +find it I'll buy you another." + + + + +CHAPTER VI--POOR MR. JANNEY! + + +The peace and aristocratic calm of the Janney household was disrupted. +Into its dignified quietude burnt an irruption of alien activity and the +great white light of publicity. Kissam with his minions came that +evening and reporters followed like bloodhounds on the scent. Scenes +were enacted similar to those Mr. Janney had read in novels and +witnessed at the theater, but which, in his most fevered imaginings, he +had never thought could transpire in his own home. It was unreal, like a +nightmare, a phantasmagoria of interviews with terrified servants, +trampings up and down stairs, strange men all over the place, reporters +on the steps, the telephone bell and the front door bell ringing +ceaselessly. Everybody was in a state of tense excitement except Mr. +Janney whose condition was that of still, frozen misery. There were +moments when he was almost sorry he'd married again. + +After introductory parleys with the heads of the house the searchlight +of inquiry was turned on the servants. Their movements on the fateful +night were subject of special attention. When Kissam elicited the fact +that they had not returned from the village till nearly midnight he fell +on it with ominous avidity. Dixon, however, had a satisfactory +explanation, which he offered with a martyred air of forbearance. Mr. +Price's man, Willitts, had that morning come up from town to Cedar +Brook, the next station along the line. In the afternoon he had biked +over to see them and, hearing of their plan to visit the movies, had +arranged to meet them there. This he did, afterward taking them to the +Mermaid Ice Cream Parlors where he had treated them to supper. They had +left there about half past eleven, Willitts going back to Cedar Brook +and the rest of them walking home to Grasslands. + +From the women left in the house little was to be gathered. This was +unfortunate as the natural supposition was that the burglary had been +committed during the hours when they were alone there. Both, feeling +ill, had retired early, Delia at about half-past eight, going +immediately to bed and quickly falling asleep. Hannah was later; about +nine, she thought. It was very quiet, not a sound, except that after she +got to her room she heard the dogs barking. They made a great row at +first, running down across the lawn, then they quieted, "easing off with +sort of whines and yaps, like it was somebody they knew." She had not +bothered to look out of the window because she thought it was one of the +work people from the neighborhood, making a short cut through the +grounds. + +In the matter of the safe all was incomprehensible and mysterious. Five +people in the house knew the combination--Mr. and Mrs. Janney, Dixon and +Isaac and Miss Maitland. Mrs. Janney was as certain of the honesty of +her servants and her Secretary as she was of her own. She rather +resented the detectives' close questioning of the latter. But Miss +Maitland showed no hesitation or annoyance, replying clearly and +promptly to everything they asked. She kept the house money and some of +her account books in the safe and on the second of the month--five days +before the robbery--had taken out such money as she had there to pay the +working people who did not receive checks. She managed the financial +side of the establishment, she explained, paying the wages and bills and +drawing the checks for Mrs. Janney's signature. + +Questioned about her movements that afternoon, her answers showed the +same intelligent frankness. She had spent the two hours after lunch +altering the dress she was to wear that evening. As it was very warm in +her room she had taken part of it to her study on the ground floor. When +she had finished her work--about four--she had gone for a walk returning +just before the storm. After that she had retired to her room and stayed +there until she came down to go to Mr. Ferguson's dinner. + +The safe and its surroundings were subjected to a minute inspection +which revealed nothing. Neither window had been tampered with, the locks +were intact, the sills unscratched, the floor showed no foot-mark. There +were no traces of finger prints either upon the door or the +metal-clamped boxes in which the jewel cases were kept. The mended chair +was just as Mrs. Janney remembered it, set between the safe and the +window, in the way of any one passing along the hall. + +It was on Sunday afternoon--twenty-four hours after the discovery--that +Dick Ferguson appeared with one of his gardeners, who had a story to +tell. On Friday night the man had been to a card party in the garage of +a neighboring estate and had come home late "across lots." His final +short cut had been through Grasslands, where he had passed round by the +back of the house. He thought the time would be on toward one-thirty. +Skirting the kitchen wing he had seen a light in a ground floor window, +a window which he was able to indicate. He described the light as not +very strong and white, not yellow like a lamp or candle. As he looked at +it he noticed that it diminished in brightness as if it was withdrawn, +moved away down a hall or into a room. He could see no figure, simply +the lit oblong of the window, with the pattern of a lace curtain over +it, and anyway he hadn't noticed much, supposing it to be one of the +servants coming home late like himself. + +This settled the hour of the robbery. It had not been committed when the +place was almost deserted, but when all its occupants were housed and +sleeping. The window, pointed out by the man, was directly opposite the +safe door, the light as he described it could only have been made by an +electric lantern or torch, its gradual diminishment caused by its +removal into the recess of the safe. + +If before this Mr. Janney's mental state was painful, it now became +agonized. He was afraid to be with the detectives for fear of what he +would hear, and he was afraid to leave them alone, for fear of what he +might miss. When Mrs. Janney conferred with Kissam he sat by her side, +swallowing on a dry throat, and trying to control the inner trembling +that attacked him every time the man opened his lips. He gave way to +secret, futile cursings of the jewels, distracted prayers that they +never might be found. For if they were, the theft might be traced to its +author--and _then_ what? It would be the end of his wife, her proud head +would be lowered forever, her strong heart broken. Sleep entirely +forsook him and the people who came to call treated him with a soothing +gentleness as if they thought he was dying. + +His misery reached a climax when something he remembered, and every one +else had forgotten, came to light. It was one day in the library when +Kissam asked Mrs. Janney if there had ever been any one else in the +house--a discharged employee or relation--who had known the combination. +Mrs. Janney said no and then recollected that Chapman Price did, he had +kept his tobacco in the safe as the damp spoiled it. Kissam showed no +interest--he knew Chapman Price was her son-in-law and was no longer an +inmate--and then suddenly asked what had been done with the written +combination. + +At that question Mr. Janney felt like a shipwrecked mariner deprived of +the spar to which he has been clinging. He saw his wife's face charged +with aroused interest--she'd forgotten it, it was in Mr. Janney's desk, +had always been kept there. They went to the desk and found it under a +sheaf of papers in a drawer that was unlocked. Kissam looked at it, felt +and studied the papers, then put it back in a silence that made Mr. +Janney feel sick. + +After that he was prepared for anything to happen, but nothing did. He +got some comfort from the papers, which assumed the robbery to have been +an "outside job"; no one in the house fitting the character of a +suspect. It was the work of experts, who had entered by the second +story, and were of that class of burglar known as "tumblers" Mr. Janney, +who had never heard of a "tumbler" save as a vessel from which to drink, +now learned that it was a crackman, who from a sensitive touch and long +training, could manipulate the locks and work out the combination. He +found himself thanking heaven that such men existed. + +When a week passed and nothing of moment came to the surface, the Janney +jewel robbery slipped back to the inside page, and, save in the environs +of Berkeley, ceased to occupy the public mind. Mr. Janney could once +more walk in his own grounds without fear of reporters leaping on him +from the shrubberies or emerging from behind statues and garden benches. +His tense state relaxed, he began to breathe freely, and, in this +restoration to the normal, he was able to think of what he ought to do. +Somehow, some day, he would have to face Suzanne with his knowledge and +get the jewels back. It would be a day of fearful reckoning; it was so +appalling to contemplate that he shrank from it even in thought. He said +he wasn't strong enough yet, would work up to it, get some more sleep +and his nerves in better shape. And she might--there was always the +hope--she might get frightened and return them herself. + +So he rested in a sort of breathing spell between the first, grinding +agony and the formidably looming future. But it was not to last--events +were shaping to an end that he had never suspected and that came upon +him like a bolt from the blue. + +It happened one afternoon eight days after the robbery. Mrs. Janney and +Suzanne had gone for a drive and he was alone in the library, listlessly +going over the morning papers. His zest in the news had left him--the +Chicago murder offered no interest, the stabbed policeman in desperate +case from blood poisoning, his assailant still at large, could not +conjure away his dark anxieties. With his glasses dangling from his +finger, his eyes on the green sweep of the lawn, he was roused by a +knock on the door. It was Dixon announcing Mr. Kissam, who had walked up +from the village and wanted to see him. + +Kissam, with a brief phrase of greeting, closed the door and sat down. +Mr. Janney thought his manner, which was always hard and brusque, was +softened by a suggestion of confidence, something of intimacy as one who +speaks man to man. It made him nervous and his uneasiness was not +relieved in the least by the detective's words. + +"I'm glad to find you alone, Mr. Janney. I 'phoned up and heard from +Dixon that the ladies were out and that's why I came. I want to consult +you before I say anything to Mrs. Janney." + +"That's quite right," said Mr. Janney, then added with a feeble attempt +at lightness, "Are you, as the children say, getting any warmer?" + +"We're very warm. In fact I think we've almost got there. But it's +rather a ticklish situation." + +Mr. Janney did not answer; he glanced at his shoes, then at the silver +on the desk. For the moment he was too perturbed to look at Kissam's +shrewd, attentive face. + +"It's so out of the ordinary run," the man went on, "and _so much_ is +involved that I decided not to move without first telling you. The +family being so prominent--" + +"The family!" Mr. Janney spoke before he thought, his limp hands +suddenly clenching on the arms of the chair. + +The detective's eyes steadied on the gripped fingers. + +"What do you mean? Let me have it straight," said the old man huskily. + +Kissam put his hand in his hip pocket and drew out an electric torch +which he put on the desk. + +"This torch I myself found two days ago in a desk in Mrs. Price's room. +It was pushed back in a drawer which was full of letters and papers. It +fits the description of the torch that was lost by Mrs. Price's little +girl." + +Mr. Janney's head sunk forward on his breast, and Kissam knew now that +his suspicions were correct and that the old man had known all along. He +was sorry for him: + +"Mrs. Price not being your daughter, Mr. Janney, I decided to come to +you. I suspected her after the second day and I'll tell you why. I had a +private interview with that woman Elspeth, Mrs. Janney's maid, and she +told me of a quarrel she had overheard between Mrs. Janney and her +daughter. The subject of the quarrel was money, Mrs. Price asking for a +large sum to meet certain debts and losses in the stock market which +Mrs. Janney refused to give her. That supplied the motive and gave me +the lead. The loss of the torch was also significant. The child was +confident--and children are very accurate--that she had left it on the +table in her nursery when she went to bed. The proximity of the two +rooms made the theft of the torch an easy matter. What puzzled me was +how Mrs. Price had gained access to the safe, but that was cleared up +when the written combination was found in your desk here; and finally I +ran across what I should call perfectly conclusive evidence in Mrs. +Price's room. I don't refer only to the torch, but to the fact that a +wrapper that was hanging in the back of one of the closets showed a +smudge of varnish on the skirt." + +Mr. Janney leaned forward over his clasped hands, feeling wan and +shriveled. + +"If your surmise is right," he said, "where has she put them?" + +"If!" echoed the other. "I don't see any if about it. You can't suspect +either of the men servants--reliable people of established +character--nor Miss Maitland. A girl in her position--even if she +happened to be dishonest, which I don't for a moment think she +is--wouldn't tackle a job as big as that. Come, Mr. Janney, we don't +need to dodge around the stump. As soon as I'd spoken I saw you thought +Mrs. Price had done it." + +The old man nodded and said sadly: + +"I did." + +"Would you mind telling me why you did?" + +There was nothing for it but to tell, and he told, the detective +suppressing a grin of triumph. It cleared up everything, was as +conclusive as if they'd seen her commit the act. + +"As for where she put them," he said, "she may have a hiding place in +the house that we haven't discovered, or cached them outside. In matters +like this women sometimes show a remarkable cunning. I've looked up her +movements on the Saturday and it's possible she hid them somewhere in +the woods. She left the house at twelve, carrying a silk work bag, +walked past Ferguson's place and talked there with him in the garden for +about fifteen minutes, went on to the beach, sat there a while, and then +walked to the Fairfax house on the bluff, where she stayed to lunch, +coming back here about half-past four. She had ample opportunity during +that time and in the places she passed through to find a cache for +them." + +Mr. Janney raised a gray, pitiful face: + +"Mr. Kissam, if Mrs. Janney knew this it would kill her." + +Kissam gave back an understanding look: + +"That's why I came to you." + +"Then it must stop here--with me." The old man spoke with a sudden, +fierce vehemence. "It _can't_ go further. The girl's been a torment and +a trouble for years. I won't let her end by breaking her mother's heart, +bringing her gray hairs with sorrow to the grave. Good God, I'd rather +say I did it myself." + +"There's no need for that. We can let it fizzle out, die down +gradually." He gave a slight, sardonic smile. "I've happened on this +sort of thing before, Mr. Janney. The rich have their skeletons in the +closet, and I've helped to keep 'em there, shut in tight." + +"Then for heaven's sake do it in this case--help me hide this skeleton. +Keep up the search for a while so that Mrs. Janney won't suspect +anything; play your part. Mr. Kissam, if you'll aid me in keeping this +dark there's nothing I wouldn't do to repay you." + +Kissam disclaimed all desire for reward. His professional pride was +justified; he had made good to his own satisfaction. And, as he had +said, the case presented no startling novelty to his seasoned +experience. Many times he had helped distracted families to suppress +ugly revelations, presented an impregnable front to the press, and seen, +with a cynical amusement, columns shrink to paragraphs and the public's +curiosity fade to the vanishing point. He promised he would aid in the +slow quenching of the Janney sensation, gradually let it flicker out, +keep his men on the job for a while longer for Mrs. Janney's benefit, +and finally let the matter decline to the status of an "unsolved +mystery." + +As to the restoration of the jewels he gave advice. Say nothing for a +time, sit quiet and give no sign. If she was as thoroughly scared as she +ought to be, she would probably return them--they would wake one fine +morning and find everything back in the safe. If, however, she tried to +realize on them it would be easy to trace them--he would be on the +watch--and then Mr. Janney could confront her with his knowledge and +have her under his thumb forever. + +Mr. Janney was extremely grateful--not at the prospect of having Suzanne +under his thumb, that was too complete a reversal of positions to be +comfortable--but at the detective's kindly comprehension and aid. With +tears in his eyes he wrung Kissam's hand and honored him by a personal +escort to the front door. + + + + +CHAPTER VII--CONCERNING DETECTIVES + + +Kissam kept his word and the interest in the Janney robbery began to +languish. Detectives still came and went, morning trains still disgorged +reporters, but it was not as it had been. The first, fine careless +rapture of the chase was over; nothing new was discovered, nothing old +developed. The house settled back to its methodical regime, the faces of +its inmates lost their looks of harassed distress. + +Mr. Janney, though much pacified, was not yet restored to his normal +poise. His wife was now the object of his secret attention, for he knew +her to be a very sharp and observant person, and the fear that she might +"catch on" haunted him. It was therefore very upsetting when she +remarked one morning at breakfast that "those men didn't seem to be +doing much. They were just where they had been ten days ago." + +He tried to reassure her--it would be a long slow affair--didn't she +remember the James case, where a year after the theft the jewels were +found under the skin of a ham hanging in the cellar? Mrs. Janney was not +appeased, she scoffed at the ham, and said the detectives were the +stupidest body of men in the country outside Congress. She was going to +offer a reward, ten thousand dollars--and then she muttered something +about "taking a hand herself." In answer to Mr. Janney's alarmed +questions she quieted down, laughed, and said she didn't mean anything. + +She did, however, and had Mr. Janney known it wakeful nights would again +have been his portion. But she had no intention of telling him. She had +seen that he was worn out, a mere bundle of nerves, and what she +intended to do would be done without his knowledge or connivance. This +was to start a private inquiry of her own. The written combination, +loose in an unlocked drawer, had influenced her; it was possible some +one in the house had found it. She felt that she owed it to her +dependents and herself to make sure. And the best way to do this was to +have a detective on the spot--but a detective whose profession would be +unknown. Fortunately the plan was workable; there was a vacancy in the +household staff. For the past month she had been advocating the +engagement of a nursery governess for Bebita. + +Two days after her slip to Mr. Janney an opportunity came for broaching +the subject. They were at lunch when Suzanne announced that she intended +going to town the next morning. It was about Bebita--the child's eyes, +which had troubled her in the spring, were again inflamed and she had +complained of pain in them. Suzanne wanted to consult the oculist; she +hoped a prescription would be sufficient, but of course if he insisted +on seeing the child she would have to be taken in for an examination. + +Mrs. Janney thought it the right thing to do and said she would +accompany her daughter. Suzanne, who was eating her lunch, paused with +suspended fork and sidelong eye;--why was that necessary, she was +perfectly competent to attend to the matter. Mrs. Janney agreed and said +she was going on another errand--to see about the nursery governess they +had spoken of so often. It was time something was done, Bebita was +running wild, forgetting all she had learned last winter. Mrs. Janney +had heard of several women who might answer and would spend the day +looking them up and interviewing them. Suzanne returned to her food. +"Oh, very well, it might be a good thing, only please get some one young +and cheerful who didn't put on airs and want to be a member of the +family." + +One of Suzanne's fads was a fear of the Pennsylvania Tunnel. Whether it +was a pose or genuine she absolutely refused to go through it, declaring +that on her one trip she had nearly died of fright and the pressure on +her ears. Since that alarming experience she always went to the city +either by the old Long Island Ferry route, or by motor across the +Queensborough Bridge. + +It being a fine morning they decided to drive in--about an hour's +run--and at ten they started forth. They chatted amicably, for Suzanne, +since the robbery and the knowledge that her debts were paid, had been +unusually gay and good-humored. They separated at Altman's, Mrs. Janney +keeping the motor, Suzanne taking a taxi. At four they would meet at a +tea room and drive home together. + +Mrs. Janney's first point of call was a strange place in which to look +for a nursery governess. It was the office of Whitney & Whitney, her +lawyers, far downtown near Wall Street. She was at once conducted into +Mr. Whitney's sanctum, for besides being an important client she was a +personal friend. He moved forward to meet her--a large, slightly +stooped, heavily built man with a shock of thick gray hair, and eyes, +singularly clear and piercing, overshadowed by bushy brows. His son, +George, was sent for, and after greetings, jolly and intimate, they +settled down to talk over Mrs. Janney's business. + +She told them the situation and her needs--could _they_ find the sort of +person she wanted. She knew they employed detectives of all sorts and +Kissam's men had been so lacking in energy and so stupid that she wanted +no more of that kind. She had to have a woman of whose character they +were assured, and sufficiently presentable to pass muster with the +master and the servants. Mr. Whitney gave a look at his son and they +exchanged a smile. + +"Go and see if you can get her on the wire, George," he said, "and if +she's willing tell her to come down right now." Then as the young man +left the room he turned to Mrs. Janney. "I know the very person, the +best in New York, if she'll undertake it." + +"Some one who's thoroughly reliable and can fit into the place?" + +"My dear friend, she's as reliable as you are and that's saying a good +deal. As to fitting in, leave that to her. In her natural state there +are still some rough edges, but when she's playing a part they don't +show. She's smart enough to hide them." + +"Who is she--a detective?" + +"Not a real one, not a professional. She was a telephone girl and then +she made a good marriage--fellow named Babbitts, star reporter on the +_Despatch_. She's in love and happy and prosperous, but now and again +she'll do work for us. It's partly for old sakes' sake and partly +because she has the passion of the artist--can't resist if the call +comes to her. She came to our notice during the Hesketh case--did some +of the cleverest work I ever saw and got Reddy out of prison. The Reddys +are among her best friends--can't do too much for her." + +Mrs. Janney, who knew the beautiful Mrs. Reddy, was impressed. + +"Do you think she'll come?" she asked anxiously. + +He gave her a meaning look and nodded; + +"Yes. It's an unusually interesting case." + +Half an hour later Mrs. Janney met Molly Morgenthau Babbitts and laid +the situation before her. She found the much-vaunted young woman, a +pretty, slender girl, with crisply curly black hair, honest brown eyes, +and a pleasantly simple manner. Mrs. Janney liked what she said and +liked her. There was no doubt about her intelligence and as to rousing +any suspicions in the household--she would have deceived Mr. Janney--she +even would have deceived Dixon. As the case was outlined she could not +hide her kindling interest and, when she agreed to undertake the work, +Mrs. Janney felt that the nursery governess idea had been an +inspiration. The interview ended with practical details: Mrs. Babbitts +would make her reports to the Whitneys, who would figure as her +employers and would hand on her findings to Mrs. Janney. She would +arrive by the twelve-thirty train on the following day and be known at +Grasslands as Miss Rodgers. As they were separating she asked if there +was a branch telephone on the upper floor and, being told that there was +in an alcove off the main hall, requested that her room might be near it +as the telephone played an important part in her work. + +Suzanne's course had a curious resemblance to her mother's, though her +plan of procedure was different. + +From the day after the robbery she had developed an interest in the +telephone "Red Book." She had taken it to her room and turning to the +D's studied the list of detective agencies. After much comparison and +cogitation she had copied down the name of one Horace Larkin, who +appeared to be in business by himself and whose office was in a central +and accessible part of the city. + +After she had parted from her mother she went to a department store, +shut herself in a telephone booth, and called up Mr. Larkin. A masculine +voice, that of Larkin himself, had answered, and explaining her desire +to see him on important business, he had made an appointment to meet her +that afternoon at the Janney house on Fifth Avenue. + +This was an excellent place for Suzanne's purpose, closed for the +summer, its porch boarded up, its blue-blinded windows proclaiming its +desertion. An ancient caretaker occupied the basement with her niece, +Aggie McGee, to help and be company. Mrs. Janney never went there, but +now and then Suzanne did, generally on a quest for some needed garment, +so that her presence in the house was in no way remarkable. + +The appointment was for two and, after telling Aggie McGee that a +gentleman would call and to show him into the reception room, she +retired to the long Louis Quinze salon and threw herself on a sofa. She +was a little scared at what she had planned but she did not let her +uneasiness interfere with her intention, for, her mind once set on a +goal, she was as determined as her mother. Stretched comfortably on the +sofa, her glance traveling over the covered walls, the chandelier, a +misshapen bulging whiteness below the frescoed ceiling, she carefully +thought out what she would say to Mr. Larkin. + +A ring of the bell brought her to a sitting position, her hands pushing +in loosened hairpins. She waited listening, heard the opening and +closing of doors and then Aggie McGee's head appeared between the +shrouded portieres and announced, "The gentleman to see you, ma'am." + +Her first impression of him was as a tall, broad-shouldered shape, +detailless against the light of the window. Then, as she sunk into a +chair, motioning him to one opposite, a nearer view showed him as a +fine-looking man, on to forty, with a fresh-colored, rounded face, its +expression smilingly good-humored. After the unkempt and slouchy +detectives she had seen at Grasslands his appearance, natty, smart, +almost that of a man of fashion, surprised and pleased her. She had an +instinctive distaste for all ungroomed and ill-dressed people and seeing +him so like the members of her own world, she felt a rising confidence +and reassurance. Also his manners were good, respectful, businesslike. +The one thing about him that suggested the wily sleuth were his eyes, +very light colored in his ruddy face, small, shrewd and piercing. + +He came to the matter of the moment without any preamble. Yes, he knew +of the robbery and knew who she was; he supposed she had called him up +to consult him about the case. + +"Of course, Mr. Larkin," she said, "that's what I wanted. But before I +say anything it must be understood between us that this--er--sending for +you--is entirely my affair. I want to employ you myself independently of +the others." + +He nodded, showing no surprise; + +"You want to put your own detective on the case." + +"Exactly. You're to be employed by me but no one must know you are or +know what you're doing." + +He smothered a smile and said: + +"I see." + +"I don't think the men that are working over it now are very clever or +interested. They just poke about and ask the same questions over and +over. The way they're going I should say we'd never get anything back. +So I decided I'd start an inquiry of my own and in a direction no one +else had thought of." + +Mr. Larkin gave a slight movement an almost imperceptible straightening +up of his body: + +"Do you mean that you suspect some one?" + +Suzanne looked at the arm of her chair and then smoothed its linen cover +with delicate finger tips. A very slight color deepened the artificial +rose of her cheek. + +"I'm afraid I do," she murmured. + +"Afraid?" + +She nodded, closing her eyes with the movement. She had the appearance +of a person distressed but resolute. + +"I can't help suspecting some one that I don't like to suspect. And +that's why I want your assistance." + +"I don't quite understand, Mrs. Price." + +"_This_ is the explanation. If it were known that this person was guilty +it would ruin and destroy them. My idea is to be sure that they did +it--have evidence--and then tell my mother. We could keep quiet about +it, get the jewels back and not have the thief disgraced and sent to +jail." + +"Oh, I see. You want to face the party with a knowledge of their guilt, +have them restore the jewels, and let the matter drop." + +"Precisely. And I don't want to say anything until I'm sure, can come +out with everything all clear and proved. That's _where_ I expect you to +help, put things together, find out, work up the case." + +"Who is the person?" + +Her color burned to a deep flush; she leaned toward him, urgent, almost +pleading: + +"Mr. Larkin, I hardly like to say it even to you, but I must. It's my +mother's secretary, Miss Maitland." + +He looked stolidly unmoved: + +"She lives in the house?" + +"Yes, for over a year now. My mother thinks everything of her, wouldn't +believe it unless it was proved past a doubt." + +"What are your reasons for suspecting her?" + +Suzanne was silent for a moment moving her glance from him to the +window. Mr. Larkin had a good chance to look at her and took it. He +noticed the feverish color, the line between the brows, the tightened +muscles under the thin cheeks. He made a mental note of the fact that +she was agitated. + +"Well that night, the night of July the seventh," she said in a low +voice, "I was wakeful. I often am, I've always been a nervous, restless +sort of person. About half past one I thought I heard a noise--some one +on the stairs--and I got up and looked out of my door. I can see the +head of the stairs from there, and as it was very bright moonlight any +one coming up would be perfectly plain--I couldn't make a mistake--what +I saw was Miss Maitland. She was going very carefully, tiptoeing along +as if she was trying to make no noise. At the top she turned and went +down the passage to her own room which is just beyond my mother's." + +She paused and shot a tentative look at him. He met it, teetered his +head in quiet comprehension and murmured: + +"She didn't see you?" + +"Oh no, she was not looking that way. And I didn't say anything or think +anything then--thought she'd gone downstairs for something she'd +forgotten. The next day it had passed out of my mind; it wasn't until I +heard that the jewels were gone that it came back and then I was too +shocked to say a word. It all came upon me in a minute--I remembered how +I'd seen her and remembered that she knew the combination of the safe." + +"Oh," said Mr. Larkin, "she knew that, did she?" + +"Yes, she keeps her account books and money in there, things she uses in +her work. You see she's been thoroughly trusted--never looked upon as +anything but perfectly honest and reliable." + +"Then she's filled her position to Mrs. Janney's satisfaction?" + +"Entirely. Of course we really don't know very much about her. She was +highly recommended when she came, but people in her position if they do +their work well--one doesn't bother much about them." + +"Have you noticed anything in her conduct or manner of life lately that +could--er--have any connection with or throw any light on such an +action?" + +Suzanne pondered for a moment then said: + +"No--she's always been about the same. She's gone into the city more +this summer than she did last year, on her holidays, I mean. And--oh +yes, this may be important--that night, when we came home from dinner, +she asked my mother if she could have the following day--Saturday--in +town. Mrs. Janney said she might and she went in before any of the +family were up." + +"Um," murmured Mr. Larkin and then fell into a silence in which he +appeared to be digesting this last item. When he spoke again it was to +propound a question that ruffled Suzanne's composure and caused her blue +eyes to give out a sudden spark: + +"Do you happen to know if she has any admirer--lover or fiance or +anything of that sort?" + +"I know nothing whatever about it, but I should say _not_. Certainly I +never heard of such a person. I never saw any man in the least attracted +by her and I should imagine she was a girl who had no charm for the +other sex." + +Mr. Larkin stirred in a slow, large way and said: + +"Such a robbery is a pretty big thing for a girl like that to attempt. +She must know--any one would--that jewels like Mrs. Janney's are hard to +dispose of without detection." + +Suzanne shrugged, her tone showing an edge of irritation: + +"That may be the case, I suppose it is. But couldn't she have been +employed by some one--aren't there gangs who put people on the spot to +rob for them?" + +"Certainly there are. And that would be the most plausible explanation. +Not necessarily a gang, however, an individual might be behind her. At +this stage, knowing what I do, that would be my idea. But, of course, I +can say nothing until I'm better informed. What I'll do now will be to +look up her record and then I think I'll take a run down to Berkeley and +see if I can pick up anything there." + +Suzanne looked uneasy: + +"But you'll be careful, and not let any one guess what you're doing or +that you have any business with me?" + +He smiled openly at that: + +"Mrs. Price, you can trust me. This is not my first case." + +After that there was talk of financial arrangements and future plans. +Mr. Larkin thought he would come out to Berkeley in a day or two and +take a lodging in the village. When he had anything of moment to impart +he would drop a note to Mrs. Price and she could designate a rendezvous. +They parted amicably, Suzanne feeling that she had found the right man +and Mr. Larkin secretly elated, for this was the first case of real +magnitude that had come his way. + +At the appointed time Suzanne met Mrs. Janney at the tea room and on the +way home they exchanged their news. The nursery governess had been +found, approved and engaged, and the oculist had said to go on with the +lotion and if Bebita's eyes did not improve to bring her in to see him. +Both ladies agreed that their labors had exhausted them, but each looked +unusually vivacious and mettlesome. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII--MOLLY'S STORY + + +I've been asked to tell the part of this story in which I figure. I've +done that kind of work before, so I'm not as shy as I was that first +time, and since then I've studied some, and come up against fine people, +and I'm older--twenty-seven on my last birthday. But as I said then, so +I'll say now--don't expect any stylish writing from me. At the +switchboard there's still ginger in me, but with the pen I'm one of the +"also rans." + +Fortunately for me, I was always a good one to throw a bluff and, having +made a few excursions into the halls of the rich and great, I felt I +could be safely featured as a nursery governess. She belongs in the +layer between the top and bottom and doesn't mix with either. I wouldn't +have to play down to the kitchen standards or up to the parlor ones, +just move along, sort of lonesome, in the neutral ground between. As for +teaching the child, I knew I could do that as well as the girls who are +marking time until they marry, or the decayed ladies who employ their +declining years and intellects that way. + +It didn't seem to me hard to size up the family. Mrs. Janney was the +head of it, the middle and both ends--a real queen who didn't need a +crown or a throne to make people bow the knee. Mr. Janney was a good, +kind old gentleman who was too law-abiding to get rich any way but the +way he did. Mrs. Price wasn't up to their measure--an only child, born +with a silver lining. She was one of those slimpsy, thin women that a +man would be afraid to hug for fear she'd crack in his arms or snap in +the middle. She was very cordial and pleasant to me and I will say she +was fond of her little girl. + +When I came to the servants I couldn't see but what every one of them +registered honesty. If it had been printed on their foreheads with a +rubber stamp it couldn't have been plainer. There were only two new ones +in the outfit--girls, one of them my chambermaid--and no one, not even a +sleuth desperate for glory, could have considered them. Outside there +were gardeners and chauffeurs--in all there were twenty-one people +employed--but it was the same with them. They were a decent, well-paid +lot, the garage men and head gardener living on the place, the laborers +lodged in the village. + +The one person my eye lingered on was Miss Maitland the Secretary. Not +that there was anything suspicious about her, but that she wasn't as +simple and easy to see into as the others. She was a handsome girl, tall +and well made, sticking close to her job and not having much to do with +any one. Her study was just under the day nursery where we had lessons +and had its own door on to the piazza. When she wasn't at work, she'd +either sit there reading or go off walking by herself and there was +something solitary and serious about her that interested me. The nursery +window was a good look-out, commanding the lawns and garden and with the +tennis court to one side. After lessons I'd let the blinds down and coil +up there on a cushion, and I saw her several times coming in and going +out, always alone, and always looking thoughtful and depressed. + +To get any information about her I had to be very careful for Mrs. +Janney thought the world of her, but I managed to worm out some facts, +though nothing of any importance. She had come to Mrs. Janney from a +friend who had had her as secretary for two years. She was entirely +dependent on her work for her living, was an orphan, and had no +followers. The only thing the least degree out of line was that several +times during the spring and the early summer she had asked for more days +and afternoons off than formerly. Mrs. Janney didn't seem to think +anything of this and I didn't either. The girl--settled down in her +place and knowing it secure--was slackening up on her first speed. + +There were a lot of people coming and going in the house--oftenest, Mr. +Richard Ferguson. I'd heard of him--everybody has--millions, unmarried, +and so forth and so on. I hadn't been there thirty-six hours before I +saw that Mrs. Price had an eye for him. That's putting it in a +considerate, refined way. If I was the cat some women are, I'd say she +was camped on his trail, with her lassoo ready in her hand. Of course +she'd work it the way ladies do, very genteel, pretend to be lazy if he +wanted to play tennis and when he was off for a swim wonder if she had +the energy to walk to the beach. But she always got there; every time, +rain or shine, she'd be awake at the switch. I didn't know whether he +responded--you couldn't tell. He was the kind who was jolly and affable +to everybody; even if he was a plutocrat you had to like him. + +I had a good deal of time to myself--lessons only lasted two hours--and +I roamed round the neighborhood studying it. The second afternoon I went +into the woods, where there's a short-cut that goes past Council Oaks to +the beach. Off the path, branching to the right, I found two smaller +trails both leading to the same place--a pond, surrounded by trees, and +with a wharf, a rustic bench, and two bathing houses, where the trails +ended. In my room that evening I asked Ellen, my chambermaid, about the +pond and she told me it was called Little Fresh and that the bathing +houses and wharf had been built by the former owner of Grasslands. But +the first year of Mrs. Janney's occupation a boy from the village had +been drowned there, since when Mrs. Janney had forbidden any one to go +near or bathe in Little Fresh. She had put up trespassing signs and +locked the bath houses, and no one ever went there now, because, anyway +if you didn't go in and get drowned, folks said you might catch malaria. + +A few days after that Bebita asked me to go into the woods with her and +look for lady-slippers; the kitchen maid had found two and Bebita had to +see if there weren't any left for her. Everybody said it was too late +for them, but that didn't faze Bebita who had the kitchen maid's word +for it and was set upon going. + +The woods were lovely, all green and shimmery with sunlight. We took the +trail I've spoken of, I strolling along the path, and Bebita hunting +about in the underbrush for the flowers. I was some little distance +ahead of her when I saw a figure moving behind the screen of trees +toward the right. I could only catch it in broken bits through the +leaves, hear the footsteps soft on the moss, and I didn't know whether +it was a man or a woman. Then it came into view, out of the trail that +led to Little Fresh Pond, and I saw it was a man, who stopped short at +the sight of me. + +He was good-looking, the dark kind, naturally brown, and sunburned on +top of it until he was as swarthy as an Indian, the little mustache on +his upper lip as black as if it was painted on with ink. Now I'm not one +that thinks men ought to be stunned by my beauty, but also I don't +expect to be stared at as if the sight of me was an unpleasant shock. +And that's the way that piratical guy acted, standing rooted, glaring +angry from under his eyebrows. + +I was going to pass on haughty, when Bebita's voice came from behind in +a joyful cry of "Popsy." She rushed by me, her arms spread out, and +fairly jumped at him. The ugly look went from his face as if you'd wiped +it off with a sponge, and the one that took its place made him another +man. He caught her up and held her against him, and she locked her feet +behind his waist and her hands behind his neck swinging off from him and +laughing out: + +"Oh, Popsy, I was looking for lady-slippers and I found _you_." + +"Well," he said, gazing at her like he couldn't look enough, "would you +rather have found a lady-slipper?" + +She hugged up against him, awful sweet and cunning. + +"Oh, Popsy, that's a joke. I like you better than all the lady-slippers +in the world. Where have you been?" + +"Over on the bluff, calling on some people. I'm taking a short cut +through the woods." + +"Where are you going now?" + +"To Cedar Brook. My car's out there on the road at the end of the path." + +I knew Bebita had been told not to speak of her father. I'd heard it +from Annie and Mrs. Janney had cautioned me, if she asked any questions, +to say that he had gone away and was not coming back. Children are +queer, take in more than you think, and I believe the little thing felt +something of the tragedy of it. Anyway she said nothing more on that +subject, but loosing one hand, waved it at me. + +"That's my new governess, Miss Rogers. I'm studying lessons with her." + +He looked at me, and having no free hand, just nodded. Though his +expression wasn't as unfriendly as it had been, it didn't suggest any +desire to know me better. He turned back to Bebita. + +"Dearie, you'll have to let go for I must jog along. I've a date to play +tennis at Cedar Brook and I'm late now." + +He kissed her and she loosened her hold sliding through his arms to the +ground. Then with a few last words of good-by he swung off down the +path. Bebita looked after him till the trees hid him, gave a sigh, and +without a word pushed her little hand into mine and walked along beside +me. She seemed sobered for a while, then picked up heart, began to look +about her, and was soon back at her hunt for the flowers. + +I was nearing the second path to Little Fresh, when again I saw a figure +coming behind the trees. This time it showed in a moving pattern of +lilac and the sight made me brisk up for I'd seen Miss Maitland that +morning in a lilac linen dress. I quickened my step until I came to a +turning from which I could look up the branch trail, and sure enough, +there she was, walking very lightly and spying out ahead. At the sight +of me she too stopped and looked annoyed. But women are a good deal +quicker than men--in a minute the look was gone and she was all smiles +of welcome. + +"Oh, Miss Rogers, and Bebita too! How nice to meet you. Are you going to +the beach?" + +Bebita explained our quest and said she was going to give it up--there +wasn't a single lady-slipper left. + +Miss Maitland's smile was kind and consoling: + +"I could have told you that. They're gone for this year." + +"Have _you_ been looking for them?" Bebita asked. + +No, Miss Maitland had been to the beach for a bath, and as the closed +season for lady-slippers had begun, we turned back, Bebita and the +Secretary in front, I meekly following. In answer to the child's +questions Miss Maitland said she had taken a long swim, out beyond the +raft. + +Suddenly Bebita popped out with: + +"Did you see my Daddy?" + +There was a slight pause before she answered; when she did her voice was +full of surprise: + +"Mr. Price! Was he on the beach?" + +"No, in the woods. We met him. He was taking a short cut." + +Miss Maitland said she hadn't seen him, that he must have been some +distance in front of her, and changed the subject. + +While they were talking I was thinking and absently looking at her back. +They'd both come out of the branch trails that led to Little Fresh; they +had taken different paths and not come at the same time; they had each +got a jar when they saw me. As I thought, my eyes went wandering over +her back and finally stopped at the nape of her neck. The hair was drawn +up from it and hidden under her hat. I could see the roots and the +little curly locks that drooped down against the white skin. And +suddenly I noticed something--they were perfectly dry, not a damp spot, +not a wet hair. The best bathing cap in the world couldn't keep the +water out like that. She had not been bathing at all, she had been with +Chapman Price at Little Fresh Pond. And they wanted no one to know; were +sufficiently anxious to lie about it. + +The next day in a conference with Mrs. Janney, I asked her if Mr. Price +had ever shown any interest in Miss Maitland. She was amazed, as shocked +as if I'd asked if Mr. Janney had ever been in love with the cook. +Chapman Price had taken no more notice of Miss Maitland than common +politeness demanded, in fact, she thought that of late he had rather +shunned her. She was curious to know why I asked such a question, and +when I said I had to ask any and every sort of question or she'd be +paying a detective's salary to a nursery governess, she saw the sense of +it and quieted down. + +That was more than I did. The way things were opening up, I was getting +that small, inner thrill, that feeling like your nerves are tingling +that comes to me when the darkness begins to break. I didn't see much, +just the first, faint glimmer, but it was the right kind. + +Two days later a thing happened that changed the glimmer to a wide +bright ray. It was this way: + +In the afternoon the family, unless they had a party of their own, were +always out. The only person who stayed around was Miss Maitland, +sometimes working over her books, sometimes sitting about sewing or +reading. That day--about four--I'd seen her as I passed the study window +writing at her desk. I'd gone on into the big central hall where I +wasn't supposed to belong, but feeling safe with everybody scattered, I +thought I'd make myself comfortable and take a look at the morning +papers. I'd just cuddled down in the corner of the sofa with my favorite +daily when I heard the telephone ring. + +Now the bell of the telephone is to me like the trumpet to the old war +horse. And hearing it that way, tingling in the quiet of the big, +deserted house, I got a flash that any one wanting to talk to Miss +Maitland and knowing the habits of the family would choose that hour. +There was a 'phone in the lower story--in a closet at the end of the +hall--and the extension one was upstairs in a sort of curtained recess +off the main corridor just outside my door. I rose off the sofa as if +lifted by a charge of dynamite and slid for the stairs. As I sprinted up +I heard the door of Miss Maitland's study open. + +The upper hall was deserted and I dashed noiseless into that alcove +place, one hand lifting off the receiver as soft as a feather, the other +pressed against my mouth to smother the sound of my breathing. On the +floor below Esther Maitland had just connected; I got her first +sentence, quiet and clear as if she was in the room with me: + +"Yes. This is Grasslands." + +A man's voice answered: + +"That you, Esther?" + +I could tell she recognized it, for instantly hers changed, showed fear +and a sort of pleading: + +"Oh, why do you call me up here? I told you not to." + +"My dear girl, it's all right--I know they're all out at this hour." + +"The servants--I'm afraid of them--and there's a new nursery governess +come." + +"I know. I met her in the woods that day. Did you?" + +"Of course I did. How could I help it? I said I'd been bathing. We +mustn't go there again--it's much better to write." + +The man gave a laugh that was good-humored and easy: + +"Don't take it so hard. There's not the slightest need to be worried. I +called you up to say everything was O. K." + +Her answer came with a deep, sighing breath: + +"It may be now--but how can we tell? The first excitement's dying down +but that doesn't mean they're not doing anything. Don't think for a +moment, because it's worked right so far, that we're out of the woods." + +"I'm wise to all that, I know them better than you do. And the fellow +that knows has got it all over the fellow that doesn't. Watchful +waiting--that's our motto." + +"Very well, then _let_ it be watchful. And don't call me up unless it's +urgent. I can see you in town when I go in. I won't talk any more. +Good-by." + +I heard the stillness of a dead wire and then before I let myself think, +flew into my room, found a pad and pencil and wrote it down word for +word. + + + + +CHAPTER IX--GOOD HUNTING IN BERKELEY + + +Two days after his interview with Suzanne, Mr. Larkin came to Berkeley +and took a room at the Berkeley Arms. He registered as Henry Childs, and +described himself to the clerk as a plumber, who, having had a +prosperous year, was looking for a bit of land upon which to build a +bungalow. + +Berkeley was much too exclusive to permit a hotel within its exclusive +limits and the Berkeley Arms was allowed to exist in a small, subdued +way as a convenience. It was an unassuming, gray-shingled building, +withdrawn behind a lilac hedge, and too near the station to mar the +smart and shining elegance of the main street. In it dwelt the +shop-keepers who plied a temporary summer trade in the village, and the +chauffeurs of the less wealthy cottagers. Here the detective heard much +talk of the Janney robbery, and, after he had extended his field of +observation to the post-office lobby and Bennett's drug store, Berkeley +had no secrets from him. + +The public mind was still occupied with all that pertained to +Grasslands. He heard of the separation of the Prices, the scene _he_ had +made on leaving, and that _she_ hadn't treated him right. Berkeley was +on Chapman's side, said she wanted to get rid of him to marry Ferguson. +It was hoped that Ferguson--highly esteemed--wasn't going to fall for +it; but you couldn't tell, the best men made mistakes. Gossips, who +professed an intimacy with the Grasslands kitchens, hinted that Ferguson +was "taken with" the secretary. But Berkeley, fattened by prosperity to +a gross snobbishness, rejected the idea as vulgar and unfitting. + +All this had its value for Mr. Larkin, but it was by accident that he +acquired the most illuminating piece of intelligence. Late one afternoon +he wandered forth into a road that threaded the woods near Grasslands. +The day being warm, the way dusty, he seated himself on a rock to cool +off and ponder. While there, concealed by the surrounding trees, he had +seen two small boys padding toward him down the road, their heads +together in animated debate. Unaware of his presence their voices were +loud and his listening ear caught interesting matter. They had been in +the forbidden area of Grasslands, had gone to Little Fresh for a bathe, +and had almost been caught in the act by a lady and gentleman. + +Mr. Larkin made his presence known, and a dime passed into each grubby +palm won their confidence. + +They were on the wharf slipping off their clothes when they heard +footsteps and had only time to rush to cover in the underbrush when Mr. +Chapman Price appeared. He waited round a bit and then Miss Maitland +came and they sat on the bench and talked. The boys had not been able to +hear what they said, but that it was serious they gathered from Mr. +Price's manner and the fact that Miss Maitland had cried for a spell. +Mr. Price went away first, and as he was going he said loud, standing in +the path, "Take the upper trail and if you meet anybody say you've been +at the beach bathing." Then he'd gone and Miss Maitland had waited a +while, and then she'd gone too, by the upper trail, the way he'd said. + +Mr. Larkin had been very sympathetic and friendly, swore he'd keep his +mouth shut, and cautioned the boys to do the same, for he'd heard that +Mrs. Janney wouldn't stand for any one bathing in Little Fresh and you +couldn't tell but what she might have them arrested. + +The next day he had a meeting with Suzanne in a summer-house on the +Setons' grounds, the Setons being in California for the season. He gave +his report of Miss Maitland's career--entirely worthy and +respectable--and then asked the question Molly had asked Mrs. Janney: +had Mr. Price ever exhibited any special interest in the secretary? Mrs. +Price's surprise and denial were as genuine and emphatic as her mother's +had been and Mr. Larkin arrived at the same conclusion as Molly--here +started the path that led to the heart of the maze. + +He did not say this to Mrs. Price. What he did say was that he would +leave Berkeley shortly and when he had anything of importance to tell +make an appointment with her by letter. It was not necessary to inform +her that his next move would be to Cedar Brook where he had heard that +Chapman Price spent a good deal of his time. + +Cedar Brook, six miles above Berkeley on the main line, had none of the +prestige of its aristocratic neighbor. It was in the process of +development, new houses rising round its outskirts, fields being turned +into lawns. Mr. Larkin took a room in a clapboarded cottage which stared +at other clapboarded cottages through the foliage of locust trees. +Announcing his intention of buying a piece of land, he was soon an +object of general attention and added to his store of knowledge. He +heard a good deal of Chapman Price, who was there off and on with the +Hartleys, and of his man Willitts. It was understood that Willitts was +staying with Price till he got a job, and, as the Hartley house was +small, lodged in the village; in fact, Mr. Larkin learned to his +satisfaction, was living in one of the clapboarded cottages close to his +own. + +Professing a desire to study the environs of Cedar Brook he hired a +wheel, and the third afternoon of his stay peddled out into the country. +It was while passing the private hedge of a large estate, that he came +upon a young man engaged over a disabled bicycle. + +The day was warm, the salt air of the Sound shut out by forest and hill, +the road bathed in a hot glow of sun. The man had taken off his coat, +and, as Mr. Larkin drew near, looked up displaying a smooth-shaven, rosy +face, beaded with perspiration. + +Mr. Larkin, being by nature and profession curious, drew up and made +friendly inquiries. The man answered them, explained the nature of the +damage, his speech marked by the crisp, clipped enunciation of the +Briton. His costume--negligee shirt, knickerbockers and golf +stockings--did not suggest the country house guest, nor was his accent +quite that of the English gentleman. The detective, who had some +knowledge of these delicate distinctions, laid his bicycle against the +bank and proffered his assistance. Together they repaired the stranger's +wheel, and, when it was done, rested from their labors in the shade of +the hedge, and engaged in conversation. This at first was of the +war--the young man explaining that he was English and had volunteered at +once, but been rejected on the ground of his eyes--very near-sighted, +couldn't read the chart at all--touching with an indicating finger the +glasses that spanned his nose. After that he'd come to America; he could +make good money then and had people dependent on him. At this stage Mr. +Larkin asked his profession and learned that he was a valet, by name +James Willitts, just now looking for a place. He _had_ been in the +employ of Mr. Chapman Price and was still staying with him until he got +a new "situation." Mr. Larkin in return recited his little lay about the +plumbing business and the bungalow, and, the introductions accomplished, +they passed to more general topics and soon reached the Janney robbery. + +It was a propitious meeting for the detective, for Willitts proved +himself a free and expansive talker. He launched forth into the subject +with an artless zest, not needing any prompting from his attentive +listener. Mr. Larkin was grateful for it all, but especially so for an +account of the movements of Mr. Price the day before the robbery. He had +sent his valet to Cedar Brook on the morning train, he to follow later +in the afternoon. Willitts, after the unpacking and settling was done, +had biked over to Grasslands to see "the help," and then made the +engagement to meet them that night at the movies. Of course he had to go +back, as part of his work was to lay out Mr. Price's dinner clothes and +help him dress, and it was most unfortunate, because, when he went up to +Mr. Price's room, Mr. Price said he wouldn't change, would keep on the +clothes he had and go motoring. + +"Motoring," observed Mr. Larkin, mildly interested, "did he motor in the +evening?" + +"Not usually--but I don't know if you remember that night. After a heavy +rain it cleared and the moon came out as bright as day." + +Mr. Larkin didn't remember himself but he had a vague recollection of +having read it in some of the papers. + +"It was a wonderful night, and if it hadn't been I'd never have kept my +date. For I got side-tracked--had to fetch the doctor for my landlady's +little girl who was taken bad with the croup. And what with that and the +long distance I'd have given it up if it hadn't been for the moon." + +The detective did not find these details particularly pertinent, and +edged nearer to vital matters: + +"Pretty unpleasant position for those two men, Dixon and Isaac. I was in +Berkeley before I came here and there was a lot of talk." + +The valet looked at him with sharp surprise: + +"But no suspicion rests on _them_, I'll be bound. I lived in that house +since last October and I'll swear that there's not an honester pair in +the whole country." + +Mr. Larkin, as a stranger to the parties, had no need to display a +corresponding warmth, merely remarking that Berkeley was convinced of +their innocence. + +The young man appeased, felt in his coat for a pipe and drew a tobacco +pouch from his pocket. As he filled the bowl, his profile was presented +to the detective's vigilant eye, which dwelt thoughtfully on the neat +outline, almost handsome except that the chin receded slightly. A good +looking fellow, Mr. Larkin thought, and smart--somehow as the +conversation had progressed he was beginning to think him smarter than +he had at the start. + +"How about that Miss Maitland," he said, "the young lady secretary?" + +Willitts had the pipe in his mouth and was pressing the tobacco down +with his thumb. He spoke through closed teeth: + +"What about her?" + +"Well, what sort is she? You needn't tell me she's good looking, for I +saw her once in the post office and she's a peach." + +The valet leaned forward and felt in his coat pocket for matches. The +movement presented his face in full to Mr. Larkin's glance, and the +detective noticed that its bright alertness had diminished, that a +slight film of stolidity had formed over it like ice over a running +stream. The man had removed his pipe and held it in one hand while he +scrabbled round in his coat with the other. + +"She's a very fine young lady; nothing but good's ever been said of her +in _my_ hearing. And very competent in her work--they say--and she would +be, or Mrs. Janney wouldn't keep her." + +He found the matches and, sitting upright, lit one and applied it to the +pipe bowl. The detective, with his eyes ready to swerve to the +landscape, hazarded a shot at the bull's-eye. + +"They were saying--or more hinting I guess you'd call it--that Mr. Price +was--er--getting to look her way too often." + +Willitts was very still. The watching eyes noticed that the flame of the +match burned steady over the pipe bowl; for a moment the valet's breath +was held. Then, without moving, his voice peculiarly quiet, he said: + +"Now I'd like to know who told you _that_?" + +The other gave a lazy laugh: + +"Oh, I can't tell--every kind of rumor was flying about. They were ready +to say anything." + +"Yes, that's it. Say anything to get listened to and not care whose +character they were taking away." + +"Then there's nothing in it?" + +"Tommyrot!" he snorted out the word with intense irritation. "The silly +fools! Mr. Price is no more in love with her than I am. He's not that +kind; he's an honorable gentleman. And, believe me, the wrong's not all +on his side. It's not for me to tell tales of the family, but I will say +that there's not many men could have put up with what he did." + +His face was flushed, he was openly exasperated. Mr. Larkin remembered +what he had heard of the man's affection for the master, and his +thoughts formed into an unspoken sentence, "He knows something and won't +tell." + +"Well, well," he said cheerfully, "when a big thing happens there's +bound to be all sorts of scandal and surmise. People work off their +excitement that way; you can't muzzle 'em--" + +Willitts grunted a scornful assent and rose. It was time to go; Mr. +Price would be coming up from town that night and he would be on duty. +The detective, lifting his bicycle from the grass, casually inquired if +Mr. Price motored from the city. + +"Oh, dear no. He keeps his car here in Sommers' garage--he needs it, +taking people about to see the country. He made a tidy bit of money here +last week." + +"Talking of money," said the other, "did you know that ten thousand +dollars' reward has been offered for those jewels?" + +Willitts, astride his wheel, stretched a feeling foot for the pedal: + +"Yes, I saw it in the papers." + +"Easy money for somebody." + +"Yes, but _is_ there somebody beside the thief--or thieves--who knows? +_That's_ the question." + +They pedaled back side by side talking amicably, mutually pleased to +find they were neighbors. On the outskirts of the village they parted +with promises for a speedy reunion, Willitts to go to the Hartleys, and +Mr. Larkin to Sommers' garage to ask the price of a flivver for an +excursion beyond the reach of his bicycle. + +When he arrived at the garage a large touring car, packed full of veiled +females, was drawn up at the entrance. The driver, with Sommers and his +assistant beside him, had opened the hood and the three of them were +peering into the inner depths with the anxious concentration of doctors +studying the anatomy of a patient. Mr. Larkin walked by them and went +into the garage. He cast a rapid look about him, over the lined-up +motors in the back, and then through the doorway into the small office. +The place was empty. With a stealthy glance at the party round the +touring car, he strolled in to where the time card rack hung on the +wall. He ran his eye down the list of names until he came to "Price" and +drew out the card. The second entry was dated July seventh and showed +that that night Price had taken out his car at eight-thirty and not +returned it until five minutes to two. + + + + +CHAPTER X--MOLLY'S STORY + + +As soon as I had the notes of that 'phone message down I wrote a report +for the Whitney office--just an outline--and posted it myself in the +village. The answer with instructions came the following evening. The +next time Miss Maitland went into town I was to come with her. In the +concourse of the Pennsylvania station I'd see O'Malley (the Whitneys' +detective) and it would be my business to point her out to him. He was +to follow her and I to come to the office and make my full report. Say +nothing of what I'd heard to Mrs. Janney. + +That was Tuesday; Thursday was Miss Maitland's holiday and right along +she'd been going into town. Wednesday afternoon I heard her say she'd go +in as usual on the eight forty-five, tipped off the office by 'phone, +and told Mrs. Janney I'd need that day to make a report to Mr. +Whitney--a business formality that had to be observed. + +Miss Maitland and I went in together, looking very sociable on the +outside, and talking about the weather, the new style in skirts, how +flat Long Island was, and other such ladylike topics. Coming off the +train I stuck to her like a burr, was almost arm in arm going up the +stairs, and then in the concourse broke myself loose and faded away +toward the news stand. Right there, leaning against the magazine end, +I'd seen a large, fat, sloppy-looking man, with a tired panama hat back +from his forehead, and a masonic emblem on his watch chain. + +O'Malley was a first class worker in his line, and his appearance was +worth rubies. He'd a small-town, corner-grocery look that would have +fooled any one unless they'd a scent for a sleuth like a dog for a bone. +As I edged up near him, reaching out for a magazine, he cast a cold, +disdainful glance at me like the rube that's wise to the dangers of the +great city. I dragged a magazine out from behind his back and whispered, +"In the lavender dress and the white hat with the grapes round it." And +dreamy, as if his thoughts were back with mother on the farm, he heaved +himself up from the stand and took the trail. + +The Chief--that's my name for Mr. Whitney--and Mr. George were waiting +for me in the old man's office. Gee, it was great to be there again, +like times in the past when we'd meet together and thrash out the last +findings. Of course the Chief had to have his joke, holding me by the +shoulders and cocking his head to one side as he looked into my face: + +"My, my, Molly, but the country's put a bloom on you! What a pity it is +you're married or you might get one of those millionaires down there." + +And I couldn't help answering fresh--he just sort of dares you to it: + +"I won't say but what I might, Chief. But it's poor sport. Seeing what +they've got to choose from it would be a shame to take the money." + +Mr. George was impatient--he always gets bristly when things are +moving--and cut us off from our fooling when a sharp: + +"Come on, Molly, sit down and let's hear the whole of this." + +So I took up the white man's burden, told them all I'd seen and heard +and picked up, ending off with the full notes of the 'phone talk. Then I +laid the paper on the table and looked at them. The Chief was gazing +thoughtfully at the floor, and Mr. George's face was puckered with a +frown like he'd eaten a persimmon. + +"It's the queerest thing I ever heard in my life," he said. "Chapman and +that girl! Why, it's impossible. Are you sure the man on the 'phone +_was_ Chapman?" + +"It must have been. He spoke of meeting me in the woods and Mr. Price is +the only man I ever met there." + +The Chief looked up, glowering at me from under his big eyebrows: + +"What's your opinion of this Maitland woman?" + +"Well, I don't think there's anything wrong about her--I mean I'd never +get that impression from her general make-up. But before I tapped that +message, I did get a hunch that she was sort of abstracted and shut away +in herself. She'd lonesome habits and she'd look downhearted when she +thought no one saw her. I'd size her up roughly as some one who wasn't +easy in her mind." + +"Have you ever heard anything of her having any sort of affair or +friendship with Price?" + +"Not a hint of it. That's what made me sit up and take notice. Under +everybody's eye the way they were and yet not a soul suspecting +anything--you're not as secret as that for nothing." + +"While they were talking on the 'phone did you notice anything in their +voices--it certainly wasn't in the words--that suggested tenderness or +love?" + +"No, it was more as if they knew each other well. He sounded as if he +was trying to jolly her along, keep up her spirits; and she as if she +was scared, not at _him_ but at what he might do." + +"They'd be careful," said Mr. George. "A man and a woman who were +involved in some dangerous scheme wouldn't coo at each other over the +wire like two turtle doves." + +"Love's hard to hide," said the old man, "betrays itself in small ways. +And Molly's got a fine, trained ear." + +"Well, it caught no love there, Chief. The only person at Grasslands +who's got that complaint is Mrs. Price. She's in love with Mr. +Ferguson." + +Mr. George was very much surprised. + +"The deuce you say!--Old Dick fallen at last." + +The Chief gave a sort of sarcastic grunt. + +"Ferguson can take care of himself. He's not as big a fool as he looks +or pretends to be. Now these extra holidays of Miss Maitland's you've +spoken of--how long has that been going on?" + +"Since April. Before that she never wanted time off and often spent her +Thursdays in the house. At Grasslands this summer she's gone into town +every Thursday and three times asked for extra days. The last was July +the eighth, the day after the robbery." + +"Umph!" muttered the old man. "I guess we'll know something about that +when we hear from O'Malley." + +Mr. George, slumped down in his chair, with his hands thrust in his +pockets, his chin pressed on his collar, said gloomily: + +"I confess I'm dazed. It's perfectly possible that Chapman, who didn't +like his wife, should have fallen in love with the girl, it's perfectly +natural that they should have kept it dark; but that he's joined with +her in a plan to steal Mrs. Janney's jewels!"--he shook his head staring +in front of him--"I can't get the focus. Price wouldn't qualify for a +Sunday school superintendent, but I can't seem to see him as a gentleman +burglar." + +"He was mad when he left," I said. "He made a sort of scene." + +"What's that?" growled the old man, looking up quick. + +"He got angry and threatened them. I don't know just in what way because +I've only caught it in bits and scraps. But Dixon heard him and told in +the village where I picked up an echo of it. He said they'd stolen his +child." + +"Sounds like him--an ugly temper. Try and get exactly what he said if +you can." + +We talked on a while, going back and forth over it like a lawn mower +over grass. Then a knock on the door stopped us; a boy put in his head +and announced: + +"Mr. O'Malley's outside and wants to see Mr. Whitney." + +Mr. George and I squared round in our chairs with our eyes glued on the +doorway. The Chief, slouched down comfortable with his shirt-bosom +bulging, looked like a sleepy old bear, but from under the jut of his +eyebrows his glance shone as keen as a razor. O'Malley entered, hot and +red, his panama in his hand, and that air about him I've seen before--a +suppressed triumph gleaming out through the cracks. + +"Well?" says Mr. George, curt and sharp. + +O'Malley took a chair and mopped his forehead: + +"There's no mistake she's got something up her sleeve. She took the +Seventh Avenue car and went downtown until she came to Jefferson Court +house, got out there, went a few blocks into the Greenwich Village +section and stopped at a house on a small sort of thoroughfare called +Gayle Street. I think she let herself in with a key, but I'm not sure. +The place is a shady-looking rookery, no porch or steps, door opening +right on the sidewalk, three windows to each floor, mansard roof. About +ten minutes after she went in, a man came down the street, walking +quick, hat low over his eyes--it was Mr. Chapman Price." + +Mr. George stirred and gave a mutter. The old man, stretching his hand +to the cigar box at his elbow, took out a large fat cigar and said: + +"Price, eh?--Go on." + +"I thought the lady'd used a key, and I saw plain that he did. The door +opened and he went in. I crossed over and looked at the bells. There +were nine of them, all with names underneath except the top floor ones. +These, the last three of the line, had no names, showing the top floor +was vacant. + +"There was a drug store right opposite and I went in, took a soda, and +asked the clerk about the locality--said I was looking for lodgings in +that section. I got him round to the house, where I heard I might get a +room cheap. He said maybe I could--being summer there'd be +vacancies--that the place was decent enough, but he'd heard pretty poor +and mean. Just as I got through talking to him and was leaving I saw the +door across the street open, and Mr. Price come out. He came quick, on +the slant, and was among the folks on the sidewalk before you could +notice. It was the way a man acts when he doesn't want to be seen. He +walked off toward Seventh Avenue, his head down, keeping close to the +houses. I didn't wait for Miss Maitland--thought I'd better come back +here and report." + +"Well!" said Mr. George. "I'm jiggered if I can make head or tail of +it." + +The Chief took the cigar out of his mouth and addressed O'Malley: + +"Find out Price's movements on the night of July seventh, everything he +did, everywhere he went." He turned to me. "And you want to remember not +a hint of this gets to Mrs. Janney. She hates Price and when her blood's +up she's a red Indian. We don't want the family drawn in until we know +something." + + + + +CHAPTER XI--FERGUSON'S IDEA + + +During these days Dick Ferguson thought a good deal and said very +little. Like the rest of his world he wondered over the unsolved mystery +of the Janney robbery, but his wonderings contained an element of +discomfort. He heard the subject discussed everywhere and often the name +of Esther Maitland came up in the discussions. Not that any one ever +suggested she might be involved;--it was more a sympathetic appreciation +of her position. Every one spoke very feelingly about it:--poor girl, so +uncomfortable for her, knowing the combination and all that sort of +thing--the Janneys had stood by her splendidly, but still it _was_ +trying. + +It tried _him_ a good deal, made inroads on his temper, until it lost +its sunny evenness and he was sometimes short and surly. The day after +Molly and Esther went to town he had been called to a conference in the +Fairfax house on the bluff. A gang of motor boat thieves had been +operating along the Sound, had already stolen two launches, and the +owners of water-front property had convened to decide on a course. +Ferguson, with a small fleet to his credit, had taken rather a high +hand, and shown an unwonted irritation at the indecision of his +associates. If they wanted their boats protected it was up to them to do +it, establish a shore police patrol financed by themselves. That was +what he intended to do and they could join with him or not as they +pleased. He left them, ruffled by his brusqueness and remarking grumpily +that "Ferguson was beginning to feel his money." + +He went from the meeting to his own beach and on the way met Suzanne +returning with Bebita from the morning bath. They stopped for a chat in +the course of which Suzanne made a series of remarks not calculated to +soothe his perturbed spirit. They were apropos of Miss Maitland, who had +taken an early morning swim, all alone, refusing to wait and go in with +them. Suzanne said it was a pity Miss Maitland kept so much to +herself--the girl seemed depressed and out of spirits lately, didn't he +think so? Quite different to what she had been earlier in the season, +seemed to be troubled about something. Too bad--every one liked her so +much, and people _did_ talk so. Then with an artless smile she went off +under her white parasol. + +There was no smile on Ferguson's face as he walked to his boat houses. +He told his men of the police patrol--to operate along the shore after +nightfall--gave a few gruff orders and disappeared into a bath house. +When he emerged, stripped for a swim, he stalked silently by them and +dove from the end of the wharf. They were surprised at his manner, +usually so genial, and wondered among themselves watching his head, +sleek as a wet seal's, receding over the shining water. + +The head was full of what Suzanne had said. Though he had offered no +agreement to her suggestions, he _had_ noticed the change in Esther. He +had noticed it soon after the robbery, in fact before that, for it had +dated from the evening when she dined at his house, the night the jewels +were taken. Disturbance grew in him as he thought:--if so shallow a +creature as Suzanne could see it, others could. And Suzanne had no +sense, no realization of the weight of words. She might go round +chattering like a fool and get the girl talked about. It would be the +decent thing to give Esther a hint, put her wise to the fact that she +ought to brighten up--not give any one a chance to say she was not as +she had been. + +As his long, muscular body slid through the water he decided to go over +and have a talk with her. The decision cheered him, for to be with +Esther Maitland was the keenest pleasure he knew. + +Suzanne had told him she and her mother would be out that afternoon, so +at three--the hour they were to leave--he set out for Grasslands by the +wood path. As he crossed the garden his questing glance met an +encouraging sight--Esther Maitland sitting under a group of maples at +the end of the terrace. She was alone, an empty chair beside her, her +head bowed over a book. + +Her welcoming smile was very sweet; his eye noticed a faint color rise +in her cheeks as he came up. These signs were so agreeable that he would +like to have sat there, placidly enjoying her presence, but he was a +person who once possessed by an idea "had to get it out of his system." +This he proceeded to do, advancing on his subject with what he thought +was a crafty indirectness: + +"You know, Miss Maitland, you're not a credit to Long Island." + +She raised her brows, deprecating, also amused: + +"What have I done?" + +"It's what you haven't done. We expect people to come here worn and +weary and then blossom like the rose. You've gone back on the +tradition." + +She stretched a hand for a bundle of knitting--a soldier's muffler--on +the table beside her: + +"I don't feel worn or weary and I'm sorry I look so." + +"Oh, you always _look_ lovely," he hastily assured her. "I didn't mean +that it wasn't becoming. But--er--er--what I wanted to say was--er--why +is it?" + +Miss Maitland began to knit, her face bent over the work, her dark head +backed by the green distances of the lawn. Ferguson thought she had the +most beautifully shaped head he had ever seen. He would like to have +leaned back in his chair studying its classic outline. But he was there +for a purpose and he held himself sternly to it, looking at her profile +and trying to forget that it was as fine as her head. + +"I don't know why it is," she answered, "but I do know that you're not +very complimentary." + +"If you give me a dare like that I'll show you how complimentary I _can_ +be. But I'll put that off until later. What I think is that you're +worrying--that the robbery has got on your nerves." + +"Why should it get on my nerves?" + +He was aware of her eyes--diverted from the knitting--looking curiously +at him: + +"Why, it's been so--so--unpleasant, all this fuss and publicity. It's +been a shock." + +Her hands with the knitting dropped into her lap. She was now staring +fixedly at him: + +"Do you mean that I'm worrying because I think I may be suspected of +it?" + +He was shocked to angry repudiation. + +"Good Lord, no! What a thing to say!" + +She took up her work, and answered with cool composure: + +"Nevertheless I _have_ wondered if anybody ever thought it. You see I'm +the only one in the house--the only one who knows the combination--who +_is_ a sort of stranger. Dixon and Isaac are like members of the +family." + +"Don't talk such rubbish," he protested, then leaning nearer, "Have you +had _that_ on your mind all this time? Is _that_ what's made the +change?" + +She looked up at him, startled: + +"Change--what change?" + +"Change in you. Yes," in answer to the disturbed inquiry of her glance, +"there is one. I've noticed it; other people have." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Why, you're different, you've lost your good spirits. You're not like +you were before this happened." + +Her response came with something combative in its countering quickness: + +"I'm busier than I used to be. Since the robbery I've taken over a good +deal of the housekeeping. Mrs. Janney has been much more upset than you +guess." + +"And you're so withdrawn, keep more to yourself. I used to find you +about when I came over; now I almost never see you." + +The interview had taken on the character of a verbal duel, he thrusting, +she parrying, both earnest and insistent. + +"I've just told you; I have more work, I've not the leisure I used to +have." + +"So busy you have to shun people?" + +"That's absurd, you imagine it. I've never shunned any one and there's +no reason why I should." + +"I agree with you but let me ask one more question. You say your work is +harder and you _do_ look tired and worn out. Why don't you take a decent +rest on your holidays? Last year you spent them here, out of doors, +loafing about. Now you go to town. I've been over twice on Thursdays and +when I ask for you, always hear you're in the city. And you've been at +other times too--Mrs. Janney told me so. It's the most fatiguing thing +you can do in this hot weather. Why do you go?" + +He saw her color suddenly deepen. She had let the knitting drop to her +lap and now she took it up again and began to work, very fast, the +needles flashing in her white hands. She smiled as she answered: + +"You seem to have kept rather a sharp look-out on me, Mr. Ferguson. Did +it never occur to you that a woman _might_ need clothes, or might want +to see a friend who happened to be staying in town for the summer?" + +The young man had been admiring the white hands. As she spoke something +in their movements caught and held his eye--they were trembling. He was +so surprised that he made no answer, his glance riveted on them trying +to hold the needles steady to their task. Miss Maitland made an effort +to go on, then dropped the knitting in a bunch on her knees and clasped +the hands over it. Neither speaking, their eyes met. The expression of +hers, furtively apprehensive like a scared child's pierced his heart and +he leaned toward her, his sunburned face full of concern: + +"Miss Maitland, what's wrong? Something is--tell me." + +Without answering she shook her head, her lips tightly compressed. He +could see that she was shaken, that the clasped hands on her knee were +clenched together to control their trembling. He could see that, for a +moment, taken unawares, she did not trust herself to speak. + +"Look here," he said, low and urgent, "be frank with me. I've seen for +some time something was troubling you--I told you so that night at my +place. Why not let me lend a hand? That's what I want to do--that's what +I'm _for_." + +She had found her voice and it came with a high, light hardness, in +curious contrast to the feeling in his: + +"You're all wrong, Mr. Ferguson. You're seeing what doesn't exist." She +started to her feet, making a grab at her knitting as it slid toward the +ground. "Oh, my needle! I almost pulled it out. That _would_ have been a +calamity." She carefully pushed the stitches on to the needle as if her +whole interest lay in preserving the woven fabric. "There I've picked +them up, not lost one." Then she looked at them, smiling, her expression +showing a veiled defiance, "You ought to have been a novelist--your +imagination's wasted. Here you are seeing me as a distressed damsel, +while I'm only a perfectly normal, perfectly common-place person. +Romantic fiction would have been your line." + +She gave a laugh that brought the blood to the young man's face, for its +musical ripple contained a note of derision: + +"But for my sake please curb your fancy. Don't suggest to my employers +that I'm weighted down by a secret sorrow. They mightn't like a blighted +being for a secretary and I might lose my job, and then I really _would_ +be worried." + +He stood it unflinching, only the dark flush betraying his +mortification. He assured her of his reticence and ended by asking her +pardon. She granted it, even thanked him for his concern in her behalf +and with a smile that was still mocking, said she had notes to write, +gathered up her work, and bade him good-by. + +Dick Ferguson walked back through the woods to Council Oaks. When the +first discomfort of the rebuff had passed he pondered deeply. He was +sure now beyond the peradventure of a doubt that Esther Maitland was in +trouble of some kind, and was ready to use all the weapons at her +command to keep him from finding it out. + +Two nights after that he dined at Grasslands. It was just a family +party, and, being such, Miss Maitland was present. She met him with the +subdued quietness that he was beginning to recognize as her "social +secretary manner"--the manner of the lady employee, politely colorless +and self-effacing. + +In the dining room, with its clustered lights along the walls, where +long windows framed the deep blue night, they looked a gay and goodly +party. To the unenlightened observer they might have stood for a typical +group of the care-free rich, waited on by obsequious menials, feeding +sumptuously in sumptuous surroundings. Yet each one of them was preyed +upon by secret anxieties. + +When the ladies withdrew Mr. Janney and Ferguson sat on smoking and +sipping their coffee. If every member of the party had his hidden +distress, Mr. Janney's was by no means the least. His problem was still +unsolved, still menacing. Kissam's suggestion and his own fond hope, +that the jewels would be restored had not been realized, and he was +contemplating the day when he would have to face Suzanne with his +knowledge. Damocles beneath the suspended sword was not more +uncomfortable than he. Any allusion to the robbery made his heart sink, +and, as the allusions were frequent, conversation had become a thing +harkened to with held breath and sick anticipation. + +Alone with Ferguson he was experiencing the usual qualms, but the young +man, instead of the customary questions, asked him his opinion of +Willitts, Chapman's valet, whom he thought of engaging. Mr. Janney +brightened up, told Dixon to bring some of his own especial cigars, and +relapsed into tranquillity. He could recommend Willitts highly, smart, +capable and honest, but he thought he'd heard Dick say he couldn't stand +a valet fussing about him. Dick had said it and was still of the same +mind, but most of his guests were men and he needed some one to look +after their clothes. They made a lot of bother, the servants had kicked, +and he'd thought of Willitts. + +Mr. Janney could give no information as to Willitts' whereabouts, but +Dixon, entering with the cigar box and lamp, could. Willitts was at +Cedar Brook where Mr. Price spent a good deal of time; he was still +disengaged and looking for a position, if Mr. Ferguson would like Dixon +would get word to him. Mr. Ferguson would like, and, the box presented +at his elbow, he took out a cigar and held its tip to the lamp. Mr. +Janney forgot Willitts and drew his guest's attention to the cigar, a +special brand of rare excellence. + +"We keep them in the safe," said the old man. "Only place that's secure +against the damp. It was Chapman's idea--the one thing in my +acquaintance with Chapman I'm grateful for." + +It was an unfortunate remark, for Ferguson, leaning back in his chair +with the cigar between his lips, murmured dreamily: + +"The safe--do you know I've been thinking over things lately. I can't +understand one point. Why didn't the thief take those jewels when the +house was virtually empty instead of waiting until it was full?" + +Mr. Janney's heart took a dizzying, downward dive. He had been looking +forward to his smoke, now all his zest departed, his old, veined hand +shaking as it felt in the box. + +Ferguson went on: + +"The fellow may have come in early and hidden himself--not got down to +business until every one was asleep." + +Mr. Janney emitted an agreeing murmur and motioned Dixon to hold the +lamp nearer. As he bent toward it the young man was silent and Mr. +Janney began to hope that the obnoxious subject was abandoned. He sent a +side glance at his guest and the hope was strengthened. Ferguson had +taken his cigar from his lips and was looking at the paper band that +encircled it. He was looking at it so intently that Mr. Janney felt sure +his interest was diverted and sought to drive it into safer channels. + +"Pretty fine cigar, eh?" he said. "This is the first of a new lot, just +come." + +Ferguson drew the band off and laid it beside his plate: + +"Excellent. That's a good idea--keeping them in the safe. Do you always +do it?" + +"Yes, it's the only thing--much better than a humidor." + +"I haven't got a safe or I'd try it. Did you have any there the night of +the robbery?" + +Mr. Janney felt that the gods had sought him out for a special vengeance +and murmured drearily: + +"I believe so--a few. Dixon knows." + +Dixon who was on his way to the door turned: + +"Yes, sir, only one box, the last we had." + +Ferguson laughed: + +"If the thief had had time to try one he'd have taken the box along +too." + +Dixon, who treated all allusions to the subject with a tragical +seriousness, said: + +"I don't think he touched them, sir. The box looked just the same. Mr. +Kissam was very particular to ask about it, but I told him I thought +they was intact, as you might say. Though if it was the loss of one or +two I couldn't be certain." + +Dixon left the room and Mr. Janney looked dismally at his plate, having +no spirit to fight against fate. Ferguson, with a glance at his +down-drooped face, picked up the band and slipped it in his pocket. + +He did not stay long after dinner. As soon as his car came he left, +telling the chauffeur to hurry. At home he ran up the stairs to his +room, switched on the light over the bureau and opened the box with the +crystal lid. Under the studs and pins lay the band Esther had found the +night he walked with her through the woods. He compared it with the one +he took from his pocket and saw that they matched. The new one he threw +into the fireplace, but put the other back in the box--it was something +more than a souvenir. Then he sat down on the end of the sofa and +thought. + +Mr. Janney could not have dropped it for he had driven both to and from +Council Oaks. Neither Dixon nor Isaac could have, for they had gone to +the village by the main road and come back the same way at midnight. He +had found it at half-past ten, untouched by the heavy shower, which had +lasted from about seven till half-past eight. Therefore, whoever had +thrown it there had passed that way between the time when the rain +stopped and the time when Esther had found it. It had been dropped +either by a man who had one of the cigars in his possession and had been +on the wood path between eight-thirty and ten-thirty, or by a man who +had taken a cigar from the safe between those hours. + +Ferguson sat staring at the wall with his brows knit. If it had not been +for the light his own gardener had seen he would have felt that he had +struck the right road. + + + + +CHAPTER XII--THE MAN WHO WOULDN'T TELL + + +Mr. Larkin had lingered on at Cedar Brook. He said that he needed a +holiday, the prosperity of the last year had worn him out, also the +bungalow sites were many and a decision difficult. + +He saw a good deal of Willitts; they had become very friendly, almost +chums. Their lodgings were but a few yards apart and of evenings they +smoked neighborly pipes on the porch steps, and of afternoons took walks +into the country. During these hours their talk ranged over many +subjects, the valet proving himself a brightly loquacious companion. But +upon a subject that Mr. Larkin introduced with delicate +artfulness--Price and Esther Maitland--he maintained the evasive +reticence that had marked him at their first meeting. For all the walks +and talks Mr. Larkin learned no more, and as his curiosity remained +unsatisfied his inclination for Willitts' society increased. + +It was a few days after that first meeting that, strolling down Main +Street toward Sommers' garage, the detective stopped short, staring at +two figures emerging from the garage entrance. One was Sommers, the +other a fat, red-faced man with a sunburned Panama on the back of his +head. A glance at this man and Mr. Larkin turned on his heel and made +down a side lane at a swinging gait. Safe out of range behind a lilac +hedge, he slowed up, lifted his hat from a perspiring brow and swore to +himself, low and fiercely. He had recognized Gus O'Malley, private +detective of Whitney & Whitney, and he knew that Whitney & Whitney were +Mrs. Janney's lawyers. Another investigation was on foot, evidently +following on the lines of his own. + +After two days O'Malley left by the evening train and Mr. Larkin emerged +from a temporary retirement, and sought coolness and solitude on the +front porch. Here, when night had fallen, Willitts joined him taking a +seat on the top step. + +The house behind them was empty of all other tenants, its open front +door letting a long gush of light down the steps and across the pebbled +path to the gate. It was a warm night, heavy and breathless, and Mr. +Larkin, in his shirt sleeves, lolled comfortably, his chair tilted back, +his feet on the railing. The place where he sat was shaded with vines, +and he was discernible as a long, out-stretched bulk, detailless in the +shadow. + +Willitts had good news to impart; that afternoon he had been to Council +Oaks to see Mr. Ferguson who had engaged him as valet. It was an A1 +place, the pay high, the duties light, Mr. Ferguson known to be generous +and easy tempered. Congratulations were in order from Mr. Larkin, and if +they lacked in warmth Willitts did not appear to notice it. + +A pause fell, and his next remark caused the detective to deflect his +gaze from the darkling street to the head of the steps: + +"Did you notice a chap about here yesterday--a fat, untidy looking man +in a Panama hat and a brown sack suit?" + +Mr. Larkin had and wanted to know where Willitts had seen him. + +"In Sommers' garage. He was hiring a motor, wanted to see the +country--and Sommers telling him I knew it well, asked me to go with +him." + +"Did you go?" + +"I did; I had nothing else to do. We went a long way, through Berkeley +and beyond. He's what you'd call here 'some talker' and curious--I'd say +very curious if you asked me." + +"Curious about what?" + +"Everything in the neighborhood, but especially the robbery." + +"Did he have any theories about it?" + +"None that I hadn't heard before." + +The detective laughed: + +"That accounts for the drive--hoped he'd get some racy gossip about the +family out of you." + +"Maybe that _was_ his idea." + +"Of course it was. I'll bet he pumped you about Price." + +"I don't know that I'd call it pumping--he did ask some questions." + +Willitts was sitting with his elbows on his knees, his hands supporting +his chin. The light from the open door behind him lay over his back, +gilded the top of his smooth head and slanted across his cheek. He was +not smoking and he was very still, facts noted by Mr. Larkin. + +The detective stretched, yawned with a sleepy sound and said: + +"So it's still a subject of popular curiosity, is it?" + +"Yes, _it_ is, but why should Mr. Price be?" + +The valet's voice was low and quiet, holding a quality hard to define; +the listener decided it was less uneasiness than resentment. After a +moment's silence he spoke again, very softly, as if the words were +self-communings: + +"I'd like to know who the feller is." + +Mr. Larkin's feet came down from the rail striking the floor with a +thud. He sat up and looked at his friend: + +"I can tell you. He's a detective, Gus O'Malley, employed by Whitney & +Whitney." + +Willitts' hands dropped and he squared round: + +"A detective! _That's_ it, is it? _That_ accounts for the milk in the +cocoanut. I might have guessed it. And what's he after me for?" + +"You lived at Grasslands. Something might be dug out of you." + +"But tell me, why should he be curious about Mr. Price?" + +He had dropped one hand on the flooring and supported by it leaned +forward toward his companion. The boyish good humor had gone from his +face; it looked sharp-set and pugnacious. + +The other shrugged: + +"Ask _him_. All I can tell you is that Whitney & Whitney are Mrs. +Janney's lawyers." + +Willitts pondered, and while he pondered his eyes stared past the +shadowy shape that was Mr. Larkin into the vine-draped blackness of the +porch. Then he said: + +"Mrs. Janney's down on Mr. Price. She's all for her daughter. I think +she 'ates 'im." + +The two h's dropped off with a simple unconsciousness that surprised Mr. +Larkin. Never before in his intercourse with Willitts had he heard the +letter so much as slighted. He made a mental note of it and said dryly: + +"So I've heard." + +The man again relapsed into thought, his glance riveted on the darkness, +his expression obviously perturbed. Suddenly he looked at the vague bulk +of Mr. Larkin and said sharply: + +"'Ow do _you_ know so much about 'im?" + +Mr. Larkin's answer came out of the shadow with businesslike promptness: + +"Because I'm a detective myself." + +For a moment the valet's face seemed to set, lose its flesh and blood +mobility and harden into something stony, its lines fixed, vitality +suspended,--a vacuous, staring mask. Then life came back to it, broke +its iciness, and flooded it with a frank, almost ludicrous astonishment. + +"You--you!" he stammered out, "and me never so much as thinking it! +Would any one, I'm asking you? Would--" he stopped, his amazement gone, +a sudden belligerent fierceness taking its place, "And are you after Mr. +Price too?" + +Mr. Larkin laughed: + +"I'm after no one at this stage. I'm only assembling data. If O'Malley's +got to the point of finding a suspect he's far ahead of me." + +Willitts' excitement instantly subsided; his answer showed a hurried +urgence: + +"No, no--he didn't say anything one could take 'old of--only a few +questions. And it's maybe all in my feelings. I couldn't bear a person +to think evil of Mr. Price. It 'urts me; I'd be sensitive; I might see +it if it wasn't there." + +"If you got that impression I guess it _was_ there." + +This remark, delivered with a sardonic dryness, appeared to rekindle +Willitts' anger. It flared up like the leap of a flame: + +"Then to 'ell with 'im. If they're working up any dirty suspicions +against my gentleman they've come to the wrong man. I've got nothing to +say; there's no information to be wormed out of _me_ for I 'ave none. +Umph--lies, trickery--that's what _I_ call it!" + +He dropped back into his former position, his angry breathings loud on +the silence, mutterings of rage breaking through them. + +"Well," said Mr. Larkin, "now I've put you wise you can form your own +conclusion as to what's in their minds." + +"Is it in yours, too?" + +The question came quick, shot out between the deep-drawn breaths. Mr. +Larkin was ready for it: + +"I told you I hadn't got as far as that; I'm just feeling my way. But +let me say something to you." He rose and, going to the steps, sat down +beside Willitts, dropping his voice to a confidential key. "I'll be +frank with you--I'll show you how I stand. I didn't intend to tell you +what I was, but this fellow coming up here has forced my hand. He knows +me, he'll be after you again, and you'd have found it out. Now, here's +my position: I want to get this case; it's my first big one and it'll +make me every way--professionally and financially." + +He looked at the man beside him who, gazing into the street, nodded +without speaking. + +"There's ten thousand dollars offered for the restoration of the jewels. +If I could get them I'd share that money with the person +who--who--er--helped." + +Willitts repeated his silent nod. + +"And even if I didn't get them I'd pay and pay well for any information +that would be useful." + +"I see," said the other, "'oever 'elps along in the good work gets 'is +reward." + +Mr. Larkin did not like the words or the tone, but went on, his +confidential manner growing persuasive: + +"I'm engaged on the side of law and order. All I'm trying to do is to +restore stolen property to its owner. Any one that helps me is only +doing his duty." + +"A duty that gets its dues, as you might say." + +"Exactly. The money made by such services is earned honestly and there's +plenty of it to earn." + +"Righto! When the Janneys want a thing they'll open the purse wide and +generous." + +"And here's a point worth noticing: What I'm hired for is to get the +jewels, not the thief. The party behind me isn't out for vengeance or +prosecution. If I could deliver the goods it would be all right and no +questions asked. But the Whitneys wouldn't stop there--they're +bloodhounds when it comes to the chase. If they got anything on Price +they'd come down on him good and hard and Mrs. Janney'd stand in with +them." + +He was looking with anxious intentness at Willitts' profile. As he +finished it turned slowly, until the face was offered in full to his +watchful scrutiny. It was forbidding, the eyes sweeping him with a cold +contempt: + +"I can't 'elp understanding you, Larkin, and I'm sorry to 'ear you got +your suspicions of my gentleman and of _me_. The first is too low to +take notice of; the second is as bad, but I'll answer it to put us both +straight. I'm not the kind you take me for; I'm not to be bought. Even +if I did know anything that would be 'useful' as you say, wild 'orses +wouldn't drag it out of me. And no more will filthy lucre. Filthy--it's +the right name for it, you couldn't get a better." He rose, not so much +angry as hurt and haughty. "I can't find it in me to sit 'ere any +longer. I could talk of insults, but I won't. All I'll say is that I've +'ad a bit too much, and not wanting to 'ear more I'll bid you +good-night." + +Before the detective could find words to answer he had gone down the +path and vanished in the darkness. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII--MOLLY'S STORY + + +One of the chief features of detective work is that you must be able to +change your mind. That may not sound hard--especially when the owner of +the mind happens to be a female--but believe me it's some stunt. You get +pointed one way, and to have to shift and face round in another is candy +for a weather vane but bread for a sleuth. + +Well, that's what happened to me. In the week that followed my visit to +the Whitneys I had to start out fresh on a new line of thought. I'd left +the office pretty certain, as the others were, that the bond between +Esther Maitland and Chapman Price was love, and before those seven days +were gone I'd thrown that theory into the discard, rolled up my sleeves, +taken a cinch in my belt, and set forth to blaze a new trail. + +I came round to it slow at first and I came round through Mr. Ferguson. +It was fine weather and when Bebita would go off with Annie, I'd curl up +in my conning tower in the school room window and take observations. As +I said before, it was a convenient place, just over Miss Maitland's +study, deserted all afternoon, and with the Venetian blinds down against +the sun, I could sit comfortable on my cushion and spy out between the +slats. + +The first thing that caught my attention was that Mr. Ferguson, who'd +come over pretty nearly every day, wouldn't make straight for the front +piazza which was the natural way to get there. Instead he'd take a +slanting course across the garden, come up some steps to the terrace, +and then walk slow past the study door. Sometimes he'd see Miss Maitland +and stop for a chat, and sometimes she wouldn't be there and he'd go by. +But each and every time, thinking no one was watching, he'd let a look +come on his face that's common to the whole male sex when the one +particular star is expected above the horizon. I guess the cave man got +it when, club in hand, he was chasing the cave girl and Solomon with his +six hundred wives must have had it stamped on his features so it came to +be his habitual expression. + +Though it was registered good and plain on Mr. Ferguson's countenance, I +couldn't at first believe it. It was too like a novel, too like +Cinderella and the Prince. Then, seeing it so frequent, I was convinced. +I'd say to myself "Why not--a girl's a girl if she is a plutocrat's +social secretary, and all men are free and equal when it comes to +disposing of their young affections." The romance of it got me, gripped +at my heart. I'd sit with my eye to the crack in the blinds staring down +at him as he'd send that look out for her--that wonderful look, that +look which gives you chills and fever, blind staggers and heart failure +and you'd rather have than a blank check drawn to your order and signed +by John Rockefeller. Oh, gee--I was a girl once myself--don't I know! +I'd have been interested if it was just an ordinary love story, but it +wasn't. It was a love story with a mystery for good measure; it was a +love story that had Mrs. Price thrown in to complicate the plot; it was +a love story that was all tangled up with other elements; and it was a +love story that I only could see one side of. + +For I couldn't get at her feelings at all. This was mostly because I +hardly ever saw her with him. If she did happen to be there when he +passed, she'd be either in her room or under the balcony roof and I +couldn't see how she acted or hear what she said. Also she had such a +hold on herself, had such a calm, reserved way with her, that you'd have +to be a clairvoyant to get under her guard. + +Any woman would have been thrilled but _me_, knowing what I did--can't +you see my thoughts going round in wheels and whirligigs? If she +reciprocated--and there's few that wouldn't or I don't know my own +sex--what was she doing with Price? Was she a siren playing the two of +them? Was she Mrs. Price's secret rival with both men? Was she the kind +of vampire heroine they have in plays who can break up a burglar-proof +home with one hand tied behind her? You wouldn't think it to look at +her--but the more I hit the high spots of society the more I feel you +can't tell people by the ordinary trade-marks. + +Then one afternoon toward the end of the week I saw a little scene right +under my window that lightened up the darkness. It gave me what I call +facts; what the Whitneys, anyway Mr. George--but that belongs farther +on. + +Mr. Ferguson came out of the wood path, across the garden and on his +usual beat, up the terrace steps. He had a spray of lemon verbena in his +hand and as he walked over the grass with his long, light stride, he +kept his eyes on the balcony keen and expectant, his face all eager and +serious. Suddenly it changed, brightened, softened, glowed like the +sunlight had fallen on it--you didn't need to be a detective to know +she'd come out of the study. + +This time she came down the steps and went toward him. They met under my +window and stood there, he facing me, brushing his lips with the spray +of lemon verbena and looking down at her, a lover if ever I saw one. He +asked her what she was doing that afternoon, and she said going for a +walk, and when he wanted to know where, she said through the woods to +the beach. "A solitary walk?" he asked and she said yes, her walks were +always solitary. + +"By preference?" + +She turned half away from him and I could see her profile. I'd hardly +have known it for Miss Maitland's, soft, shy, the cheek pink. Her eyes +were on the toe of her shoe, white against the green grass, and with her +head drooping she was like a girl, bashful and blushing before her beau. + +"It generally is by preference," she said. + +"Would it exclude me," he asked, "if I tried to butt in?" + +She didn't answer for a moment, then said very low: + +"Not if you really wanted to come--didn't do it just to be kind to a +lonesome lady." + +"Lonesome lady be hanged," he exclaimed as joyful as if she'd given him +a kiss, "it's just the other way round--kindness to a lonesome +gentleman. I'm terribly lonesome this afternoon." + +But he wasn't going to be long--far from it. Round the corner of the +house, walking soft as a cat, came Mrs. Price. She made me think of a +cat every way, stepping so stealthy, her body so slim and lithe, a +small, secret smile on her face as if she'd come on two nice little +helpless mice. She was all in white, shining and spotless, a tennis +racket in one hand, a bunch of letters in the other. They didn't see her +and she got quite close, then said, sweet and smooth as treacle: + +"Good afternoon, Dick." + +They weren't doing anything but planning a walk, but they both started +like it had been a murder. + +"Oh," says Mr. Ferguson, looking blankly disconcerted, "oh, Suzanne, I +didn't see you. How do you do--good afternoon." + +She came to a halt and stood softly swinging her racket, looking at him +with that mean, cold smile. + +"I was in my room and saw you so I came down at once. It's a splendid +afternoon for our game, not a breath of wind." + +I saw, and she saw, and I guess any but a blind man could have seen, +he'd a date to play tennis with her and had forgotten it. Of course a +woman would have scrambled out, had _something_ to offer that made a +noise like an excuse; but that poor prune of a man--they're all alike +when a quick lie's needed--couldn't think of a thing to say. He just +stood between them, looking haunted and stammering out such gems of +thought as, "Our game--of course our game--I hadn't noticed it but there +_is_ no wind." + +She had him; he couldn't throw her down after he'd made the engagement, +and with her there he couldn't say what he wanted to Esther Maitland. +And neither of them helped him; Mrs. Price listened to his flounderings +with the little smile, light and cool on her painted lips, and Miss +Maitland stood by, not a word out of her. I noticed that Mrs. Price +never looked at her, acted as if she wasn't there, and presently +Ferguson, getting desperate, turns to her and says: + +"How about taking our walk later--after Mrs. Price and I have finished +our game?" + +The girl got red, burning; she started to answer, but Mrs. Price cut in, +for the first time addressing her: + +"Oh, Miss Maitland, that reminds me--I want these letters answered, if +you'll be so kind. Just follow the notes on the edges, and please do it +as soon as possible--they're rather important. They must go out on the +evening mail." + +She handed the letters to the girl and Esther Maitland took them with a +murmur. I know that kind of answer--it's the agreeing response of the +wage-earner. It comes soft and polite--it has to--but like the pleasant +rippling of the ocean on the beach it's not the only sound that element +can give forth. + +Ferguson tried to say something; he was mad and mortified and everything +else he ought to have been, but she wouldn't give him a chance. + +"Come along, Dick," she says, bright and easy, "you've kept me waiting +which is very rude, but I'm in a good humor and I'll forgive you. +There's a racket at the court--we were playing there this morning. You +can walk with Miss Maitland some other day. I'm afraid she'll have to +attend to _my_ work this afternoon." + +He got balky, lingered, looked at Miss Maitland, but she turned sharply +away and moved toward the balcony. So there was nothing for him to do +but to go off with his captor. I couldn't but look after them, both in +beautiful white clothes, both rich, both young, he so tall, she so slim, +for all the world like a picture of lovers on the cover of a magazine. +Then I switched back to Miss Maitland. She's come to a halt, right below +the window, and, standing there like a graven image, was watching them. + +I never saw any one so still. You wouldn't have known she was alive +except for her eyes which moved after them, moved and moved, until the +pair disappeared behind the rose-covered trellis that hid the courts. +Then she let out a sound, a smothered ejaculation that you couldn't +spell with letters; but you didn't need to, it said more than printed +pages. Rage was in it and pain and love. They were in her face, too, +stamped and cut into it. I wouldn't have known it for hers, it was all +marred and tragic, a pitiful, dreadful face. + +She looked blankly at the letters in her hand, at first as if she didn't +know what they were, then crumpled them, threw them on the ground and +made a run for the balcony. She was almost there, I craning my neck to +keep her in sight, when she stopped, wheeled around, went back to the +scattered papers and picked them up. "Oh, bread and butter," I thought, +"bread and butter! Aren't you cursing it now?" Bad as I believed her to +be I couldn't but be sorry for her, for I've been in that position +myself. Take it from me, licking the hand that feeds you is a job that +comes hard to the worst of us. + +She pressed out the letters, smoothed away the creases slow and careful +and came back to the balcony. Just before she disappeared under it she +stopped and lifted her face, the eyes closed, the teeth pressed on her +under lip. It quivered like a child's on the brink of tears, but she +wasn't crying--fighting, I'd say, against something deeper than tears. I +couldn't bear to look at it and shut my own eyes; when I opened them she +was gone. + +You didn't need to tell me any more after that. She was in love with +Ferguson, not Price; she was in love and straining every nerve to hide +it; she was in love so she was jealous of Mrs. Price--and I'd bet a hat +she was the kind who could love fierce and hard. + +I had to get this into the office and the next day asked for time off +from Mrs. Janney and went in. I found them different to what they had +been on my first visit, taking it serious like they were warming to it. +I'd hardly sat down before I heard the reason. O'Malley had been busy +and turned up enough evidence to make them sure that Chapman Price and +Miss Maitland were in deep in some sort of plot or conspiracy. + +O'Malley's investigation of Price's movements on the night of July the +seventh had revealed these facts: Price had taken his car from Sommers' +garage at Cedar Brook at eight-thirty, not returning till five minutes +before two. To one of the garage men he had said that the night being so +fine he had gone for a long run over the island. No trace of his +whereabouts during these hours had been found until O'Malley dropped on +a policeman at the end of the Queensborough Bridge. This man said Price +had crossed over to the city between nine-thirty and ten. He was +positive of his identification, as early in June he had stopped the +young man for exceeding the speed limit on the bridge, taken his name +and address and had a heated altercation with him. From that time to his +return to Cedar Brook Price had dropped out of sight. He had not been in +the lodgings he kept in town or in any of the garages he patronized. +Whatever his business had been in the city he had had plenty of time to +return to Grasslands and participate in the theft of the jewels. + +A continued watch of the house at 76 Gayle Street had shown that both +Miss Maitland and Price had been there on the Thursday previous and +Price on Sunday afternoon. Each had entered with noiseless haste and +each had used a latchkey. O'Malley in a search for a room had +interviewed the janitor, a grouchy old chap living in the basement; and +got a line on all the tenants, none of whom answered to the description +of Price or Miss Maitland. Of their visits to the house the man was +evidently ignorant, but he supplied some information which showed how +they could come and go without his cognizance. + +On July the eighth a lady, giving no name, had taken the right hand +front room on the top floor for a friend, Miss Agnes Brown, an art +student coming from the west but not yet arrived in the city. The lady +paid a month's rent in advance, took the key, and said when Miss Brown +arrived, the janitor would be informed, but that she might be delayed +through illness in her family. This lady, as described by the janitor, +was beyond a doubt Esther Maitland. + +O'Malley was positive that the man honestly believed the room unused and +awaiting its occupant. He had seen no signs of habitation, heard no +sound from behind its closed door. Cooking was permitted in the house +and it was part of his business to sweep down the halls every morning +and empty the pails containing the food refuse which were placed outside +the doors. He had seen no pail, no milk bottles, and never at night, +when he went up to light the hall gas, had there been a gleam from the +transom of Miss Brown's apartment. + +The room had been engaged by Esther Maitland the day after the robbery, +had been secured for a tenant who had not materialized. She had taken +the key herself and had visited the place, as Chapman Price had done. +Both had made their exits and entrances so carefully that the janitor +had no idea any one had ever been inside the door since the day it was +rented. + +After I'd heard all this I opened up with what I'd collected. The Chief +didn't say much, which is his way when you come in with a new "twist," +but Mr. George wouldn't have it, got quite peevish and said my +imagination had run away with me. + +"Do you think a girl in love with another man would have embroiled +herself with Price the way she has?" he snapped out. + +"I don't know, Mr. George. I'm not ready to say yet what she's done or +hasn't done. No one can deny that things are dead against her. All I'm +sure of now is that she is in love with Mr. Ferguson and, that being the +case, I don't think she's the kind, guilty or innocent, who'd take up +with another man." + +"But you can't base a conviction on a moment's pantomime such as you +overlooked. The girl was probably angry at Mrs. Price's manner. It can +be a deuced disagreeable manner; I've seen it." + +"She didn't act like that--it wasn't only anger--it was all sorts of +feelings." + +He couldn't see it any way but his own and hammered at me. + +"But the whole structure's built on the assumption of an affair between +her and Price. Do you think she'd steal for him, lie for him, hire a +room to meet him in, unless she was so crazy about him she was clay in +his hands?" + +"Mr. George," I said, dropping back in my chair sort of helpless but +still as obstinate as a government mule, "every word you say sounds like +sense and I'm not saying it isn't. But while I'm not passing any +criticisms on you, in this kind of question, I'd back my own judgment +against any man's that ever lived since Adam tried to throw the blame on +Eve." + +The Chief laughed like he was amused at the scrapping of two kids. + +"That's right, Molly," he says, "don't let him brow-beat you, stick to +your own opinion." + +"Well, what do _you_ think?" Mr. George turned to him all red and +ruffled up. "Isn't she building up theories on the flimsiest kind of +foundation?" + +The Chief wouldn't give him any satisfaction. + +"I'll take a leaf out of her book," he said, "not pass any criticisms. +And I think we're going on too fast. I expect to have Chapman here +himself in a day or two and ask some questions about that long ride on +the night of July the seventh. After that we'll be on a firmer +footing--or we ought to be. Meantime, Molly, you go back to Grasslands. +Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut and if anything turns up let me +know." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV--A CHAPTER ABOUT BAD TEMPERS + + +Things were not going Mr. Larkin's way. What had begun with such bright +promise was declining to a twilight uncertainty. The morning after his +ignominious failure with Willitts he had a letter from Suzanne, +forwarded from his New York office, telling him that she would be in +town on the following Monday and would like to see him. The letter +disturbed him greatly. It was not alone that he had nothing to report; +it was that the tone of the missive was irritated and impatient. It was +the angrily imperious summons of a lady who is disappointed in her +hireling. + +He packed up his things and left Cedar Brook--the collapse of his +endeavor there was complete--and at the hour appointed found Suzanne +waiting in the shaded reception room. Her words and manner showed him +how disagreeable a fine lady can be; they gave him a cold premonition +that his fat salary would end unless something distinct and definite was +soon forthcoming. In fact she hinted it; his assurances that interesting +developments were pending, that this sort of work was necessarily slow, +kindled no responsive enthusiasm in the crossly accusing eye she +fastened on him. His manner became almost pleading; he was on the edge +of discoveries, unquestionably he would have something to tell her by +the end of the week. At that she hung dubious, the angry eye less +disconcerting, and said she would be in town on Friday as she was going +to take her little girl to the oculist. + +Mr. Larkin hailed the announcement with a sleuth-like eagerness, but, as +if anxious to quench any little flicker of his spirit, she added +blightingly that she didn't think it would be possible to see him as the +child would be with her. He grappled with the difficulty, displaying +both patience and resourcefulness, for Mrs. Price, in a bad temper, had +a talent for creating obstacles. + +Why, he suggested, couldn't the little girl go to the oculist with her +nurse or companion and Mrs. Price be left, so to speak, free to roam? +Mrs. Price's answer snapped with an angry click--that was of course what +she would do--she always did. _But_, Mr. Larkin did not suppose she took +the exhausting trip from Berkeley for nothing, did he? She had matters +to attend to herself, shops to go to, people to see; when they came into +town they were swamped, simply _swamped_, by what they had to do. She +depicted with a lively irritation their harried progress, the party +split into halves, one in a hired vehicle, one in the family motor, +passing through the marts of trade in a stampede of breathless shopping. +She rubbed it in, seemed to be intimating that he was attempting to +frustrate an overtaxed and weary woman in the accomplishment of gigantic +tasks. + +Mr. Larkin met the difficulties and kept his patience. It took a good +deal to finally reach a settlement which was obvious from the start. The +child and her companion could go on their errands and Suzanne could go +on hers, but be back before them. He could meet her at the house at any +hour she named and would leave before the return of the other half of +the party. He forced her to an admission that the plan was feasible, +though she gave it grudgingly, her manner still suggesting that if he +had conducted himself as a detective worthy of his hire she would not +have been put to so much trouble. She arranged to be at the house at +twelve which she calculated might give her half an hour alone with him. +Should there be any change of plans she would let him know, and she +_hoped_, with an accentuated glance, he would have something +satisfactory to tell her. + +His good temper unshaken, Mr. Larkin assured her he would and rose to +go. On the doorstep he mopped his forehead though the day was not warm, +also he swore softly as he descended the steps. + +A day or two after this, Chapman Price went to the Whitney office. He +had received a communication from them asking for an interview, the +ostensible subject of debate being Suzanne's divorce. The suit would be +conducted at Reno where Mrs. Price would go in the autumn, but the +Whitneys, as the Janney lawyers, wanted to talk the matter over with Mr. +Price for the arranging of various financial details. + +These were quickly opened up for his attention by Wilbur Whitney, who, +with George, saw the young man in his private office. The ground of +divorce--non-support--was touched on with a tactful lightness. Mrs. +Price would of course ask for no alimony and so forth and so on. From +that the elder Whitney passed to the subject of the child; it was the +desire of its mother and grandparents that Chapman should relinquish all +claim on it. The young man listened, gloomy and scowling, now and then +muttering in angry repudiation. But the diplomatic arguments of the +lawyer bore down his opposition; he had to give in. The child ought to +remain with its mother, the natural guardian of its tender years; left +entirely to the Janneys it would be the eventual heiress of their great +wealth, but if Chapman antagonized them by a fight for its possession +its prospects might suffer. It was a persuasive appeal, made to +Chapman's parental affections, the welfare of his daughter before his +own. It brought him to a sullen consent, and Wilbur Whitney, with a +sound of approval, pushed back his chair, elated as by a good work done. + +Price rose, his face flushed and frowning. That he was resentful was +plain to be seen, but he had himself in hand, inquiring with a sardonic +politeness if that was all they wanted of him. The elder Whitney with a +hospitable gesture toward the empty chair, said no, there were some +questions he'd like to ask, nothing of any especial moment and on an +entirely different matter. + +"Mrs. Janney," he explained, "has suggested that we make a separate, +private investigation of the robbery. She's lost faith in Kissam, who +hasn't done anything but draw his pay envelope and wants us to see what +we can do. So we've been clearing up a lot of dead wood, looking into +the movements of the people in the house and the neighborhood that +night." + +Price, who had remained standing, turned his eyes on the speaker in a +gaze that had a quality of sudden fixed attention. + +"Oh," he said, in a tone containing a note of hostile comprehension, "so +_you're_ in it, are you?" + +"Yes; we're in it--only a little way so far. We've been rounding up +every one that has, or has had, any dealings with the family and we've +taken you in in the sweep." + +"_Me?_" Price's voice showed an intense surprise. "What have I got to do +with it?" + +"Nothing, my dear boy, except that you _were_ a member of the household, +and as I said, we're clearing up every one in sight. It's only a +formality, a tagging and disposing of all unnecessary elements. You went +for a motor ride that night--a long ride. You wouldn't mind telling us +where, would you? It's just for the purpose of eliminating you along +with the rest of the dead wood." + +The young man's gaze dropped from Whitney's face to his own hat lying on +the table. He looked at it with an absent stare. + +"A motor ride?" he murmured. + +"Yes, from eight-thirty till nearly two." + +"Um," Price appeared to be considering. "Let me see--what was the date, +I don't remember?" + +George assisted his memory: + +"July the seventh--a moonlight night." + +"Ah," he had it now, nodding his head several times in restored +recollection. "Of course, I remember perfectly. There was a heavy rain +early in the evening and then a full moon." He turned to the elder man. +"I'm rather fond of ranging about at night, and couldn't quite place +what especial ride you referred to. I took a long spin up the Island." + +"Up?" said Whitney, "not being a Long Islander I don't know your +directions. Would 'up' mean toward the city?" + +"No, the other way, out along the Sound roads and on toward Peconic." + +"Kept to the country, eh? Too fine a night to waste in town." + +Price's face darkened. George watching him noticed a slight dilation of +his nostrils, a slight squaring of the line of his jaw. His answer came +in a tone hard and combative: + +"Exactly. I get enough of town in the day. I rode, as I told you, out to +the east, a long way--I can't give you the exact route if that's what +you want." He suddenly leaned forward and snatched his hat from the +table. Holding it against his side he made an ironical bow to his +questioner said, "Does _that_ eliminate me as a suspect?" + +Whitney laughed, a sound of lazy good humor rich with the tolerance of a +vast experience: + +"My dear Chapman, why use such sensational terms? Suspect is a word we +haven't reached yet. Take this as it's meant--a form, merely a form." + +"The form might have included a questioning of me before you took the +trouble to look up what I did. Evidently my word wasn't thought +sufficient." + +His glance, darkly threatening, moved from one man to the other. George +started to protest, but he cut in, his words directed at old Whitney: + +"It's all I have to offer you now. It's what I say against what you've +been told to believe. I can prove no alibi, for I was with no one, saw +no one, started alone and stayed alone. That's all you'll get out of me, +and you can take it or leave it as you d----n please." + +He turned and walked toward the door, the elder Whitney's conciliatory +phrases delivered to his back. The door knob in his hand he wheeled +round, the anger he had been struggling to subdue fierce in his face: + +"Don't think for a moment you've fooled me. I was ignorant when I came +in here, but I'm on to the whole dirty business now. I see through this +pussy-footing round the divorce. It's the Janneys--the blow in the back +I might have known was coming. They've got my child, set you on to +wheedle her out of me. But that wasn't enough--they're going to try and +finish the good work--put me out of business so there's no more trouble +coming from me. Brand me as a thief--that's their game, is it? +Well--they've gone too far. I've held my hand up to this but now I'll +let loose. They'll see! By God, they'll see that I can hit back blow for +blow." + + + + +CHAPTER XV--WHAT HAPPENED ON FRIDAY + + +The Friday morning when Suzanne was to go to town broke auspiciously +bright and cloudless. As Annie was not the proper person to take Bebita +to the oculist, and as Suzanne would be too busy to go herself, Miss +Maitland had been impressed into the service. It had been decided two +days earlier, and though she had received some instructions at the time, +on the drive in, Mrs. Price went over her plans with a meticulous +thoroughness. They would go first to the Fifth Avenue house, pick up +there some clothes of Bebita's needing alteration, and then separate. +Esther would take a cab from the rank on the side street, and go with +Bebita to the oculist, to the dressmaker with the clothes, and execute +several minor commissions in shops along the Avenue. Bebita begged for a +box of caramels from Justin's, the French confectioner, a request which +was graciously acceded to by her mother, Miss Maitland jotting it down +on her list. Mrs. Price would take the motor and go about her own +affairs, which would occupy probably an hour. She would then return to +the house and wait for them--for she would have finished before they +did--and afterward they would go out to lunch somewhere. She said she +thought it would be fully an hour and a half before they got back and +Miss Maitland, eyeing the long list, said it might be even longer. + +Aggie McGee had the clothes tied up in a box and Suzanne and Bebita +stood on the steps waiting while Miss Maitland went for the cab. The +rank was just round the corner and in a few minutes she came back with a +taxi running along the curb behind her. + +"Quite a piece of luck to find one," she said, as she took the box. +"They're not always there in the dead season." + +Bebita jumped in, settling herself with joyful prancings and waving a +little white-gloved hand. Esther followed, snapped the door shut, and +they glided away. Suzanne watched them go, then stepped into the big +motor and was swept off in the opposite direction. + +She came back before the hour was up. She had hurried as she wanted to +have done with Larkin before they returned. It would be extremely +uncomfortable if they found her in confab with the detective; it would +necessitate boring explanations and the inventing of lies. + +She sat down in the reception room close to the window, pulled up the +blind and waited. Drawn back from the eyes of passers-by she could +command the sidewalk and the street for some distance and if, by any +evil chance, Larkin should be late, she could see him coming and tell +Aggie McGee to say she was not there. + +Up to now Larkin had been punctual to the dot, but on this, the one +occasion when punctuality was vital, he was not on time. Twelve passed, +then the quarter, and the sun-swept length of the great avenue gave up +no masculine figure that bore any resemblance to him. She was growing +nervous, wondering what she had better do, when he hove in sight walking +quickly toward the house. A glance at her wrist watch told her it was +twenty minutes past twelve--Miss Maitland and Bebita might not be back +for another half hour yet. She would chance it, for she was extremely +anxious to see him, and anyway, if they should come in before he left, +she could tell him to go into the drawing room and slip out after they +had gone. Relieved by the decision she rose and was turning toward the +mirror, when she caught sight of a taxi scudding up the street with +Esther Maitland's face in the window. + +A word not generally used by ladies escaped Suzanne. There was nothing +for it but to send him away. She ran into the hall and pressed the bell, +listening in a fever for Aggie McGee's step on the kitchen stairs. +Simultaneously with its first heavy thud came the peal of the front door +bell. Suzanne, who had noticed that the taxi was moving fast and would +make the steps before Larkin, called down on Aggie McGee's ascending +head: + +"That's Miss Maitland. A gentleman I expected is just behind her. I +can't see him now, I haven't time. Tell him I've been here and gone." + +She went back into the reception room and stood listening. She heard the +door opening, Esther's step in the hall; it was all right, the detective +would get his conge without being seen by any one but Aggie McGee. She +drew a breath of relief and turned smiling to the girl in the doorway. +Miss Maitland did not give back the smile; she sent a searching look +over the room and said in a low, breathless voice as if she had been +running: + +"Is Bebita here?" + +There was a moment of silence. Through it the heavy tread of Aggie McGee +passing along the hall sounded unnaturally loud. As it went clump, +clump, down the kitchen stairs Suzanne was aware of Miss Maitland's +face, startlingly strange, ashen-colored. At first it was all she took +in. + +"Bebita--here?" she stammered. "How could she be? She's with you." + +Miss Maitland made a step into the room, her hands went up clenched to +her chest, her voice came again through the broken gasps of a runner: + +"No--she isn't. I thought I'd find her with you--I thought she'd come +back. Oh, Mrs. Price--" she stopped, her eyes, telling a message of +disaster, fixed on the other. + +Suzanne's answer came from opened lips, dropped apart in a sudden +horror: + +"What do you mean? Why should she be here?" + +"Mrs. Price, something's happened!" + +Suzanne screamed out: + +"Where is she?" + +"I don't know--but--but--I haven't got her--she's gone. Mrs. Price--" + +Suzanne screamed again, putting her hands against the sides of her head, +her face, between them, a livid mask. + +"Gone--gone where? Is she dead?" + +The girl shook her head, swallowing on a throat dried to a leathern +stiffness: + +"No--no--nothing like that. But--the taxi--it went, disappeared while I +was in Justin's. I was in there buying the candy and when I came out it +was gone. I looked everywhere; I couldn't believe it; I thought she'd +come back here--run away from me for a joke." + +Suzanne, holding the sides of her head, stared like a mad woman, then +gave a piercing cry, thin and high, a wild, dolorous sound. Only the +solidity of the house prevented it from penetrating to the lower regions +where Aggie McGee and her aunt were comfortably lunching. + +"Listen, Mrs. Price." Esther took her hands and drew them down. "The +driver may have made a mistake, taken her somewhere else--he couldn't--" + +Suzanne shrieked in sudden frenzy: + +"She's been stolen--my baby's been stolen!" + +For a second they looked at one another, each pallid face confessing its +conviction of the grisly thought. Esther tried to speak, the sentences +dropping disconnected: + +"If it's that then--then--it's some one who knows you're rich--some +one--they'll want money. They'll give her up for money--Oh, Mrs. Price, +I looked--I hunted--" + +Suzanne's voice came in a suddenly strangled whisper: + +"It's you--It's your fault! You've let them steal my baby. You've done +it! You'll be put in jail." + +With the words issuing from her mouth she staggered and crumpled into a +limpness of fiberless flesh and trailing garments. Esther put an arm +about her and drew her to the sofa. Here she collapsed amid the +cushions, her eyes open, moans coming from her shaking lips. Esther +knelt beside her: + +"Mrs. Price, it's horrible, but try to keep up, don't break down this +way. No one would dare to do anything to her. If she's been stolen it's +to the interest of the person who did it to keep her safe. We'll find +her in a day or two. Your mother, her position, her power--she'll do +something, she'll get her back." + +Suzanne rolling her head on the cushion, groaned: + +"Oh, my baby! Oh, Bebita!" Then burst into wild tears and disjointed +sentences. She was almost unintelligible, cries to heaven, wails for her +child, accusations of the woman at her feet broke from her in a torrent. +Once she struck at the girl with a feeble fist. + +There was no help to be got from her and Esther rose. She spoke more to +herself than the anguished creature on the sofa: + +"We can't waste time this way. I'll call up Grasslands and ask what to +do." + +The telephone was in the hall and, as she waited for the connection, she +could hear the sounds of the mother's misery beating on the house's rich +silence. Then Dixon's voice brought her faculties into quick order. She +wanted to speak to Mrs. Janney herself, at once, it was important. There +followed what seemed an endless wait, and then Mrs. Janney. When she had +mastered it, her voice came, sharp and incisive: + +"Hold the wire, I have to speak to Mr. Janney." + +Another wait, through which, faint as the shadows of sound, Esther could +hear the tiny echo of voices, then the jar of an approaching step and a +man answered: + +"Hello, Miss Maitland, this is Ferguson. I've orders from Mrs. +Janney--Go straight down to the Whitney office, tell them what's +happened and put the thing in their hands. Say nothing to anybody else. +Mr. and Mrs. Janney are starting to go in. They'll be in town as quickly +as they can get there and will meet you at the office. Got that +straight? All right. Good-by." + +She cogitated a moment, then called up the Whitney office getting +George. She gave him a brief outline of what had occurred and told him +she would be there with Mrs. Price within a half hour. + +Back in the reception room she tried to arouse Suzanne, but the +distracted woman did not seem to have sense left to take in anything. At +the sound of Esther's voice her sobs and wails rose hysterical, and the +girl, finding it impossible to make her understand, set about preparing +her for the drive. Any word of hers appeared to make Suzanne's state +worse, so silently, as if she were dressing a manikin, she pinned the +hat to the disordered blonde hair, draped a motor veil over it, composed +the rumpled skirts, gathered up her purse and gloves, and finally, an +arm crooked round one of Suzanne's, got her out to the motor. + +On the long drive downtown almost nothing was said. The roar of the +surrounding traffic drowned the sounds of weeping that now and then rose +from the veiled figure, which Esther held firm and upright by the +pressure of her shoulder. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI--MOLLY'S STORY + + +That Friday--gee, shall I ever forget it!--opening so quiet and natural +and suddenly bang, in the middle of it, the sort of thing you read in +the yellow press. + +It was a holiday for me and I was sitting in the upper hall alcove +making a blouse and handy to the extension 'phone. Now and then it would +ring and I'd pull it over with a weary sigh and hear a female voice full +of cultivation and airs ask if Mrs. Janney'd take a hand at bridge, or a +male one want to know what Mr. Janney thought about eighteen holes at +golf. + +It was on for one when it rang again and with a smothered groan--for I +was putting on the collar--I jerked it over. _Believe me_, I forgot that +blouse! Stiff, like I was turned to stone, I sat there listening, +hearing them come, one after another, getting every word of it. When +they were through I got up, feeling sort of gone in the middle, and lit +out for the stairs. I couldn't have kept away--Bebita disappeared! +"Kidnapped!" I said to myself as I ran along the hall. "Kidnapped! +that's what it is--it's only poor children that get lost." + +On the stairs I met Mrs. Janney coming up on the run. It wasn't the +speed that made her breath short; but she was on the job, the grand old +Roman, with her mouth as straight as the slit in a post box and her face +as hard as if it was cut out of granite. + +"Go down there," she said, giving a jerk of her head toward the hall +below. "Sit there and wait. Something's happened and you may be useful." + +I went on down and took a seat. Outside on the balcony I could see Mr. +Janney, wandering about with a hunted look. From the telephone closet +came Ferguson's voice telling his chauffeur to bring his car to +Grasslands, now, this minute, and enough gasoline for a long run. Then +he came out, hooked an armful of coats off the hall rack, and ran past +me on to the balcony. He gave the coats to Mr. Janney, who stood holding +them, looking after Ferguson wherever he went and quavering questions at +him. I don't think Ferguson answered them, but he pulled one of the +coats out of the old man's arms and put him into it, quick and +efficient. When the motor came up he tried to make Mr. Janney get in, +but he wouldn't, standing there, helpless and pitiful, and calling out +for Mrs. Janney. + +"I'm here, Sam," came her voice from the stairs and she scudded by where +I was sitting, tying her motor veil over her hat. She seemed to have +forgotten me and I followed her out on to the balcony, not knowing what +she wanted me to do. As I stood there Ferguson's big car came shooting +up the drive. + +She climbed quickly into her own motor, waiting at the bottom of the +steps, Mr. Janney scrambled in after her and Ferguson threw a rug over +them. They were just starting when she looked up and saw me. + +"Oh," she cried, leaning across the old man, "we'll want you--you must +come." + +Mr. Janney stared bewildered at her and said: + +"Why--why should _she_ come?" + +"Keep quiet, Sam," then over her shoulder to Ferguson as the car began +to move, "Bring Mrs. Babbitts, Dick. Take her with you." + +The car glided off, Mr. Janney's voice floating back: + +"But why, why--why do you want _her_?" + +Ferguson's motor swung round the oval and came to a halt. The chauffeur +jumped out, and, told he wasn't wanted, disappeared. The young man +turned to me, not a smile out of him now. + +"Come on, get in," he said and then giving a nod at one of the coats +lying over a chair, "and bring that with you--it may blow up cold and +it's a long run." + +I did as I was told--there was something about him that made you do what +he said--and jumped in. He came on my heels, snapped the door and we +started. Before we got to the gates he speeded the machine up and in a +few minutes we were close on the Janney motor which was flying along the +woody road at a pace that would have strained the heart of a bicycle +cop. Their dust came over us in a cloud, and Mr. Ferguson slowed down, +and, his hand resting easy on the wheel, said: + +"What does Mrs. Janney want you for?" + +I'd hoped he hadn't noticed that, but in case he had I'd an answer +ready. + +"Maybe she thought I might have noticed if any one was hanging round +lately--hanging round to size up the habits of the family and Bebita's +movements." + +"Oh," he said, looking at me very pointed, "then you know what's +happened to Bebita." + +I hadn't any answer ready for _that_. I had to get hold of something +quick and as you will do when you're taken off your guard, I got hold of +a lie: + +"I met Mrs. Janney on the stairs and she told me." + +"That's funny," he says, sort of thoughtful. "Before she went she told +both Mr. Janney and myself that no one in the house must hear a word of +it." + +I began to get red, and for a moment, stared at my feet pressed side by +side on the wood in front of me. It didn't make it any pleasanter to +know that Ferguson was looking at me, intent and narrow, out of the tail +of his eye. + +"I guess she was so excited she forgot and just blabbed it out." + +It was the best I could do, but it was poor stuff. If you knew Mrs. +Janney you'd see why. + +"Um," said Ferguson, and took a look ahead at the cloud of dust that hid +the other car. Then he comes out with another: + +"I wonder if that was the reason she called you Mrs. Babbitts?" + +I took a good breath from the bottom of my lungs and said: + +"I shouldn't be surprised. Having your grandchild lost is enough to mix +up any woman." + +He didn't answer and we ran on some way, out of the woods on to a long +straight stretch of road. The motor in front was going at a tremendous +clip, Mrs. Janney's veil lashing out like a wild hand beckoning us on. + +"Look here," says Ferguson, soft and gentle right into my ear, "what +_are_ you, anyway?" + +"Me?" I bounced round and gave him a baby stare. "I'm a governess. What +do you think I am?" + +"You may be a good governess but you're a poor liar. I was in the +telephone closet and heard what Mrs. Janney said to you on the stairs. +And I don't think you're a governess at all--you're a detective." + +I thought a minute but what was the use, he had me. So I raised up my +chin and met him, eye for eye: + +"All right, I am. What of it?" + +"Oh, lots of it. I've had my suspicions for some time. You tapped that +'phone message from New York?" + +"I did--it's my job. I have to do it." + +"Don't apologize--it wastes time and we haven't any to lose. Now just +tell me Miss Rogers, or Mrs. Babbitts, what have you found out about the +robbery; where were you getting to before this hideous mess to-day?" + +"Well, you've got your nerve with you!" I snorted. + +"I have, right here handy. I'm a friend of the Janneys, I'm a--" he +stopped. His nerve was handy all right but he hadn't enough to tell me +it was because of Esther Maitland he was so keen. + +"Go on," I said sarcastic. "I'm interested to hear what _you_ are now +you've found out what I am." + +"I'm almost a member of the household. I can help. I want to help--and I +want to know." + +"Maybe you do," I said. "We often want things in this world that we +can't get. Don't think you have the monopoly of that complaint." + +The motor rose over the crest of a hill, flashed by a farm and slid down +an incline. Before us stretched a white line of road, with the forward +car racing along it in a blur of dust. + +"You mean you won't tell me?" + +"You got me." + +We suddenly began to slow up, the car swung off sideways from the +roadbed, ran toward the bushes on the right, and came to a halt. +Ferguson dropped against the back of the seat, stretched his legs and +said: + +"This is a nice shady place to stop in." + +"Stop!" I cried. "Forget it! What do you want to stop for?" + +"I don't--it's you. I'm going to rest here quietly while you tell me." + +"Young man," I said, fixing him with a cold eye, "this is no time to be +funny." + +"I entirely agree with you. Therefore as we're of the same mind it +behooves you to get busy and give me the information I want." + +The coolness of him would have riled a hen. It did me; I gave a stamp on +the footboard and angrily said: + +"Start up this machine. I was ordered to go to New York and I've got to +get there." + +"You will as soon as you tell me. But I won't move until you do. We'll +stay here all day, all night if necessary. There's just one thing +certain: we'll stay till I hear what I want to know." + +I was beaten and it made me mad straight through. I was helpless too and +that made me madder. If I'd had the least notion of how you started the +dinged machine I was angry enough to have tried to do it, though it +wouldn't have been any use with Ferguson there to frustrate me. + +"You're losing time," said he. "There'll be trouble if you don't show +up." + +"Do you think it's a high class thing," I snapped out, "to put a girl in +a position like this?" + +"Don't _you_ think you can trust me?" he answered very quiet. + +I looked at him, a long, slow survey, and as I did it my anger simmered +down. It's part of my business to read faces and what I saw in his made +me say sort of reluctant: + +"Well, maybe I can." + +He leaned forward and put his hand on mine. + +"Miss Rogers, if you'll stand in with me, trust me and let me help, you +won't make any mistake. For I'll stand in with you, not now, not just +for this thing, but for always. You've my word on it and I don't break +my word." + +That ended it--not what he said but the look of him while he said it. +Almost without knowing it my hand turned under his and they clasped. +Solemn as a pair of images we shook. Any one passing would have thought +we were crazy, backed into the brushwood, side by side on the front +seat, shaking hands as if we'd just been introduced. + +I told him the whole story and he never said a word. When I came to Miss +Maitland's part in it, I couldn't but look at him. He drew his eyebrows +down in a frown and fiddled with his fingers on the wheel. Even when I +told him what they thought about her and Chapman Price he didn't made a +sound, but he straightened up, and drew a deep breath like he wanted +more air in his lungs. I got it some way then--I can't exactly say +how--that he was a good deal more of a person than I'd guessed--a lot +more iron in his make-up than I'd thought when I liked his laugh and his +boyish, jolly ways. + +When I finished he said, easy and cool: + +"Thank you--that gives me just what I wanted. You won't regret having +told me. As for Whitney & Whitney, they won't say anything. They're my +lawyers--known 'em all my life. I'll take care of that." + +He took hold of the wheel and the car backed out into the road. + +"Can we ever catch them up?" I asked. + +"I guess so--this car can make seventy-five miles an hour. Are you game +for a race?" + +"I'm game for anything that'll land me where I belong." + +"All right--hold on to your hat." + +I guess the Lord protects those who are bent on His own business. Anyway +I don't know why else we weren't killed. We ate up that road like a dago +eating macaroni; it ran under the car like a white ribbon fastened to a +spindle somewhere behind us. The woods were two green streaks on either +side, and now and then a chuck hole would send me bouncing, landing +anywhere--on the floor once. + +"Hold on to something," he shouted at me. "I don't want to lose you." + +And I shouted back: + +"You couldn't. I'm wished on to this motor till death do us part or it +lands me somewhere alive." + +Through the villages we had to slow up. Gliding dignified along the +tree-shaded streets put me into a fever and I guess it wore on him for +more than once I heard him muttering to himself, and believe me, he +wasn't saying his prayers. I glimpsed sideways at him, and saw his +tanned face, with the hair loose and tousled by the wind, looking +changed, hardened and older, all the gay expression gone. The news he'd +forced out of me had hit him a body blow, struck him in the heart. And I +was sorry, awfully sorry. You can hurt a mean person or a criminal and +not care, but it's no lady's job to have to wound a decent man. That's +why I'd never make a good professional--the people get as big as the +case to me, and if you're the real thing it's only the case that counts. + +We were almost in Long Island City when we caught up with the Janneys, +Mrs. Janney's veil still waving like a hand beckoning us to hurry. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII--MISS MAITLAND IN A NEW LIGHT + + +At the entrance of the great building which housed the Whitney office +the two motors came to a halt. Ferguson went in with the others saying +he would see if he could be of any use, and if he was not wanted would +return to the street level and wait. In the elevator Mr. Janney, who had +been informed en route of Molly's real status, eyed her morosely, but +when the car stopped forgot everything but the urgencies of the moment, +and crowded out, tremulous and stumbling, on his wife's heels. + +They were met by Wilbur Whitney who in a large efficient way, +distributed them:--Ferguson was sent back to the street to wait, Molly +waved to a chair in the hall, and the old people conducted up the +passage to his private office. In a room opening from it Suzanne lay +stretched on a sofa, restoratives and stimulants at hand, and a girl +stenographer to fan her. She had revolted against the presence of +Esther, who had been removed from her sight and shut in the sanctum of a +junior partner. + +Mrs. Janney went in to see her and the old man fell upon Whitney. It was +Price's doing--they were certain of it, his wife had said so at once. He +was bound to get back at them some way, he'd said he would--he'd left +Grasslands swearing vengeance, and had been only waiting his +opportunity. The lawyer nodded in understanding agreement and, Mrs. +Janney returning, they drew up to the table and conferred in low voices. + +What Whitney said confirmed the Janneys' belief. He told of his +interview with Price; the man's anger and threats. Nevertheless he was +of the opinion that the plot to kidnap the child had not been undertaken +in sudden passion, but had probably been for some time germinating in +Chapman's mind. The news of Bebita's loss, telephoned to the office by +Miss Maitland, while it had shocked, had not altogether surprised him, +though he had hardly thought the young man's desire to get square would +have carried him to such lengths. Immediately after Esther's +communication, George had telephoned to Price's office receiving the +answer that he was not there but could probably be found at the +Hartleys' at Cedar Brook. From the Hartleys they had learned that Mr. +Price was in town, and had sent word that morning he would not come out +this week-end. + +There were other circumstances which the lawyer said pointed to Price. +These they could hear from Mrs. Babbitts who had made some important +discoveries. He rose to send for her, but Mrs. Janney stayed him with a +gesture--before they went into that she would like to see Miss Maitland +and hear from her exactly what had occurred. Mr. Whitney, suavely +agreeable, sent a summons for Esther, then softly closed the door into +the room where Suzanne lay. + +"Mrs. Price is very bitter against her," he said in explanation. + +Mrs. Janney, too wrought up for polite hypocrisies, said brusquely: + +"Oh, that's exactly like Suzanne. She has no balance at all. Of course +we can't blame Miss Maitland--it's not her fault." + +Mr. Whitney dropped back into his revolving desk chair and swung it +toward her with a lurch of his body: + +"She tells a very clear story--extremely clear. I'll let you get your +own impression of it and then we'll have a talk with Mrs. Babbitts and +you can see--" + +A knock on the door interrupted him; in answer to his "Come in," Esther +entered. She halted a moment on the threshold, her eyes touching the +faces of her employers questioningly, as if she was not sure of her +reception. But Mrs. Janney's quick, "Oh, Miss Maitland, I want to see +you," brought her across the sill. Though she looked harassed and +distressed, her manner showed a restrained composure. She took a chair +facing them, meeting their glances with a steady directness. Mrs. +Janney's demand for information was promptly answered; indeed her +narrative was so devoid of unnecessary detail, so confined to +essentials, that it suggested something gone over and put in readiness +for the telling. + +She had taken Bebita to the dressmaker and the oculist, the child +accompanying her into both places. At the third stop, Justin's, she had +persuaded Bebita to stay in the taxi. She had left it at the curb and +had not been more than ten minutes in the store. When she came out it +was gone. She had spent some time looking for it, searched up and down +the street, and, though she was frightened, she could not believe +anything had happened. Her idea had been that Bebita, tired of waiting +or wanting to play a joke on her, had prevailed on the driver to return +to the Fifth Avenue house. She had hailed a cab and gone back there and +it was not till she saw Mrs. Price that she realized the real extent of +the calamity. Mrs. Price had been utterly overwhelmed, and, not knowing +what else to do, she had called up Grasslands for instructions. + +Mr. Janney, who had been twisting and turning on his chair, burst out +with: + +"The man--the driver--did you notice him?" + +She lifted her hands and dropped them in her lap. + +"Oh, Mr. Janney, _of course_ I didn't. Does any one _ever_ look at those +men? He never got off his seat, opened the door by stretching his arm +round from the front. I have a sort of vague memory of his face when I +called him off the stand, and I think--but I can't be sure--that he wore +goggles." + +"It's needless to ask if you remember the number," Mrs. Janney said. + +The girl answered with a hopeless shake of the head. + +"You say you ran about looking for the taxi"--it was Mr. Janney +again--"Why did you waste that time?" + +"Mr. Janney," she leaned toward him insistent, but with patience for his +afflicted state, "I thought it had gone somewhere farther along. You +know how they won't let the vehicles stand in Fifth Avenue. I supposed +it was down the block or round the corner on a side street. I asked the +doorman but he hadn't noticed. I looked in every direction and even when +I finally gave up and went after her I hadn't an idea that she'd been +_stolen_." + +"Time lost--all that time lost!" wailed the old man and began to cry. + +"Come, come, Mr. Janney," said Whitney, "don't despond. It's not as bad +as all that, and I'm pretty confident we'll have her back all right +before very long." + +Mr. Janney, with his face in his handkerchief, emitted sounds that no +one could understand. His wife silenced him with a peremptory, "Be +quiet, Sam," and returned to Miss Maitland: + +"You say you dissuaded her from going into Justin's. Why did you do +that?" + +For the first time the girl lost her even poise. As she answered her +voice was unsteady: "We were so pressed for time and I knew I could get +through much quicker without her. That's why I did it--begged her to +stay in the taxi and she said she would,"--she stopped, biting on her +under lip, evidently unable to go on. + +There was a moment's silence broken by Mrs. Janney's voice low and grim: + +"The man heard you and knew that was his chance." + +Miss Maitland, her eyes down, the bitten lip showing red against its +fellow, said huskily: + +"You must blame me--you can't help it--but I'd rather have died than had +such a thing happen." + +Mr. Janney began to give forth inarticulate sounds again and his wife +said with a sort of dreary resignation: + +"Oh, I don't blame you, Miss Maitland. Nobody does. Mrs. Price is not +responsible; she doesn't know what she's saying." + +"Of course, of course," came in Whitney's deep, bland voice, "we all +understand Mrs. Price's feelings--quite natural under the circumstances. +And Miss Maitland's too." He rose and pressed a bell near the door. "Now +if you've heard all you want I'll call in George and we'll talk this +over. And Miss Maitland," he turned to her, urbanely kind and courteous, +"could I trouble you to go back to Mr. Quincy's office; just for a +little while? We won't keep you waiting very long this time." + +A very dapper young man had answered the summons and under his escort +Esther withdrew. Whitney went to a third door connecting with his son's +rooms, opened it and said in a low voice: + +"George, go and get Molly. We're ready for her now." + +Coming back, he stood for a moment by the desk, and swept the faces of +his clients with a meaning look: + +"What you're going to hear from Mrs. Babbitts will be something of a +shock. She's unearthed several rather startling facts that in my opinion +bear on this present event and what led up to it. It's a peculiar +situation and involves not only Price but Miss Maitland." + +Mrs. Janney stared: + +"Miss Maitland and Chapman! What sort of a situation?" + +"At this stage I'll simply say mysterious. But I'm afraid, my dear +friend, that your confidence in the young woman has been misplaced. +However, before I go any further I'll let you hear what Mrs. Babbitts +has to say and draw your own conclusions." + +What Mrs. Babbitts had to say came not as one shock but as a series. +Mrs. Janney could not at first believe it; she had to be shown the notes +of the telephone message, and dropped them in her lap, staring from her +husband to Wilbur Whitney in aghast question. Mr. Janney seemed stunned, +shrunk in his clothes like a turtle in its shell. It was not until the +lawyer, alluding to the loss of the jewels, mentioned Miss Maitland's +possible participation either as the actual thief or as an accomplice, +that he displayed a suddenly vitalized interest. His body stretched +forward, and his neck craned up from its collar gave him more than ever +the appearance of a turtle reaching out of its shell, his voice coming +with a stammering urgency: + +"But--but--no one can be sure. We mustn't be too hasty. We can't condemn +the girl without sufficient evidence. Some one else may have been there +and--" + +Mrs. Janney shut him off with an exasperated impatience: + +"Oh, Sam, don't go back over all that. I don't care who took them; I +don't care if I never see them again. It's only the child that matters." +Then to Whitney the inconsequential disposed of, "We must make a move at +once, but we must do it quietly without anything getting into the +papers." + +Whitney nodded: + +"That's my idea." + +"What are you going to do--go directly to him?" + +"No, not yet. Our first step will be made as you suggest, very quietly. +We're going to keep the matter out of the papers and away from the +police. Keep it to ourselves--do it ourselves. And I think--I don't want +to raise any false hopes--but I think we can lay our hands on Bebita +to-night." + +"How--where?" Mr. Janney's head was thrust forward, his blurred eyes +alight. + +"If you don't mind, I'm not going to tell you. I'm going to ask you to +leave it to me and let me see if my surmises are correct. If Chapman has +her where I think he has, I'll give her over to you by ten o'clock. If +I'm mistaken it will only mean a short postponement. He can't keep her +and he knows it." + +"The blackguard!" groaned the old man in helpless wrath. + +Mrs. Janney wasted neither time nor energy in futile passion. She +attacked another side of the situation. + +"What are we to do with Miss Maitland? You can't arrest her." + +"Certainly not. She's a very important person and we must have her under +our eye. You must treat her as if you entirely exonerated her from all +blame--maintain the attitude you took just now when talking with her. If +my immediate plan should fail our best chance of getting Bebita without +publicity and an ugly scandal will be through her. She must have no hint +of what we think, must believe herself unsuspected, and free to come and +go as she pleases." + +"You mean she's to stay on with us?" Mr. Janney's voice was high with +indignant protest. + +"Exactly--she remains the trusted employee with whose painful position +you sympathize. It won't be difficult, for you won't see much of her. +You'll naturally stay here in town till Bebita is found. What I intend +to do with her is to send her back to Grasslands with a competent +jailer--" he paused and pointed where Molly sat, silent and almost +forgotten. + +For a moment the Janneys eyed her, questioning and dubious, then Mrs. +Janney voiced their mutual thought: + +"Is Mrs. Babbitts, alone, a sufficient guard?" + +The lawyer smiled. + +"Quite. Miss Maitland doesn't want to run away. She knows too much for +that. No position could be better for our purpose than to leave +her--apparently unsuspected--alone in that big house. She will be +confident, possibly take chances." He turned on Molly, glowering at her +from under his overhanging brows. "The safest and quickest means of +communication with Grasslands, when the family is in town and the +servants ignorant of the situation, would be the telephone." + +That ended the conference. Mrs. Janney went to get Suzanne and Molly +received her final instructions. She was to return to Grasslands with +Miss Maitland, Ferguson could take them in his motor. She was to sit in +the back seat with the lady and casually drop the information that she +had come to town in answer to a wire from the Whitney office. She might +have seen suspicious characters lurking about the grounds or in the +woods. On no account was she to let her companion guess that Price was +suspected, and any remarks which might place the young woman more +completely at her ease, allay all sense of danger, would be valuable. + +They left the room and went into the entrance hall where Esther, and +presently Mrs. Janney, joined them. Whitney struck the note of a +reassuring friendliness in his manner to the girl, and the old people, +rather reservedly chimed in. She seemed grateful, thanked them, +reiterating her distress. In the elevator, going down, Molly noticed +that she fell into a staring abstraction, starting nervously as the iron +gate swung back at the ground floor. + +Ferguson, waiting on the curb, saw them as they emerged from the +doorway. His eyes leaped at the girl, and, as she crossed the sidewalk, +were riveted on her. Their expression was plain, yearning and passion no +longer disguised. If she saw the look she gave no sign, nodded to him, +and, leaving Molly to explain, climbed into the back seat and sunk in a +corner. Though the afternoon was hot she picked up the cloak lying on +the floor and drew it round her shoulders. + +The drive home was very silent. Molly gave the prescribed reasons for +her presence and heard them answered with the brief comments of +inattention. She also touched on the other matters and found her +companion so unresponsive that she desisted. It was evident that Esther +Maitland wanted to be left to her own thoughts. Huddled in the cloak, +her eyes fixed on the road in front, she sat as silent and enigmatic as +a sphinx. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII--THE HOUSE IN GAYLE STREET + + +The Janney party left the office soon after Molly and Esther. They had +decided to stay at the St. Boniface hotel where rooms had already been +engaged, and, with Suzanne swathed in veils and clinging to her mother's +arm, they were escorted to the elevator and cheered on their way by the +two Whitneys. When the car slid out of sight the father and the son went +back into the old man's room. + +It was now late afternoon, the sun, sinking in a fiery glow, glazed the +waters of the bay, seen from these high windows like a golden floor. The +day, which had opened fresh and cool, had grown unbearably hot; even +here, far above the street's stifling level, the air was breathless. The +men, starting the electric fans, sat down to talk things over and wait. +For the machinery of "the move" spoken of by Wilbur Whitney already had +been set in motion. + +Immediately after Esther's telephone message O'Malley had been called up +and, with an assistant, dispatched to watch the Gayle Street house. As +Whitney had told his clients, the news of the child's disappearance had +hardly surprised him. Chapman's anger and threats portended some violent +action of reprisal, and, even as the lawyer had questioned what form it +might take, came the answer. Chapman had stolen his own child and had a +hiding place prepared and waiting for her reception. It was undoubtedly +only a temporary refuge, he would hardly keep her in such sordid +surroundings. The Whitneys saw it as a night's bivouac before a longer +flight. And that flight would never take place; every exit was under +surveillance, there was no possibility of escape. The two men, smoking +tranquilly under the breath of the electric fans, were quietly +confident. They would bring Chapman's vengeance to an abrupt end and +avert an ignominious family scandal. Meantime they awaited O'Malley--who +was to return to the office for George--and as they waited discussed the +kidnapping, knowledge supplemented by deductions. + +When Chapman had decided on it he had instructed Esther, telling her to +inform him when the opportunity offered. This she could do by letter, +or, if time pressed, by telephone from a booth in the village. The trip +to New York had been planned several days in advance and he had been +advised of it, its details probably telephoned in the day before. He--or +some one in his pay--had driven the taxi. It had been stationed in the +rank near the house, where in the dead season there were few vehicles +and from whence the extra one needed by Suzanne would naturally be +taken. That Esther, with a long list of commissions to execute, should +leave the child in the cab was an entirely natural proceeding. Her +explanation of her subsequent actions was also disarmingly plausible, +and the minutes thus expended gave the time necessary for the driver to +make his get-away. Before she had acquainted Suzanne with the news, the +child was hidden in the room at 76 Gayle Street. + +Whether the room was taken for this purpose was a question. If it was +then the idea had been in Chapman's mind for weeks--it was the "coming +back" he had hinted at when he left Grasslands. If, however, it had been +hired as a place of rendezvous with his confederate, it had assisted +them in the carrying out of their plot--might indeed have suggested it. +For as a lair in which to lie low it offered every advantage--secluded, +inconspicuous, the rest of the floor untenanted. They could keep the +child there without rousing a suspicion, for if Chapman was with +her--and they took for granted that he was--she would be contented and +make no outcry. She loved him and was happy in his society. + +"Poor devil!" growled the old man. "You can't help being sorry for him, +even if he did do it to hit back. It's his child and he's fond of her." + +George gave a short laugh: + +"I fancy it's more the hitting back than the fondness. Chapman's not +shown up lately in a very sentimental light. It wouldn't surprise me if +he'd ransom in the back of his mind. But we'll put an end to his +ambitions or parental longings or whatever's inspiring him." He looked +at his watch, then rose. "It's a quarter past seven and O'Malley's due +at the half hour. It's understood we're to bring the child here first?" + +His father gave an assenting grunt and hitched his chair into the +current of air from the fan. + +George turned on the lights, their tempered radiance flooding the room, +the windows starting out as black squares sewn with stars. + +"I don't quite see what I'm going to say to him," he muttered, a +sidelong eye on his father. + +"Say nothing," came the answer. "Bring the child back here--that's your +job. Leave him to me. Mrs. Janney and I'll have it out with him when the +time comes." + +On the tick of half-past seven O'Malley appeared. Trickles of +perspiration ran down his red face, and his collar was melted to a +sodden band. + +"Gee," he panted as he ran a handkerchief round his neck, "it's like a +Turkish bath down there in the street." + +"Well," said George, impatient of all but the main issue, "is it all +right?" + +"Yep--I've left two men in charge--every exit's covered. And there's +only one they could use--no way out back except over the fences and +through other houses." + +"He could hardly tackle that with a child." + +"He couldn't tackle it alone and make it--not the way I've got things +fixed. And I've worked out our line of action; Stebbins relieved me at +half-past six and I went and had a seance with the janitor. Said I was +coming round later with a man who was looking for a room--the room I'd +been inquiring about. That'll let us in quiet; right up to the top floor +and no questions asked." + +"The only hitch possible can come from Chapman--he may be ugly and show +his teeth." + +The old man answered: + +"I guess he'll be tractable. If he's inclined to argue bring him along +with you. It's after eight. I don't want to sit here half the night. Get +busy and go." + +O'Malley had a taxi waiting and they slid off up the deserted regions of +Broadway. After a few blocks they swerved to the left, plunging into a +congeries of mean streets where a network of fire-escapes encaged the +house fronts. The lights from small shops illumined the sidewalks, thick +with sauntering people. The taxi moved slowly, children darting from its +approach, swept round a corner and ran on through less animated lanes of +travel, upper windows bright, disheveled figures leaning on the sills, +vague groupings on front steps. At intervals, like the threatening voice +of some advancing monster, came the roar of the elevated trains, +sweeping across a vista with a rocking rush of light. O'Malley drew +himself to the edge of the sea and peered out ahead. + +"We're not far off now," he muttered. "We'll stop at the corner of the +block--there's a bookbinding place there that's dark and quiet. If we go +to the door they might catch on, get panicky, and make a row." + +At one end of the street's length the lamp-spotted darkness of +Washington Square showed like a spangled curtain. The cab turned from it +and crossed a wide avenue over which the skeleton structure of the +elevated straddled like a vast centipede. Beyond stretched a darkling +perspective touched at recurring intervals with the white spheres of +lamps. It was a propitious time, the evening overflow dispersed, the +loneliness of the deep night hours, when a footfall echoes loud and a +solitary figure looms mysterious, not yet come. + +The cab drew up at the curb by the shuttered face of the book bindery +and the man alighted. With a low command to the driver, O'Malley, George +beside him, walked up the block. From a shadowy doorway a figure +detached itself, slunk by them with a whispered hail and vanished. +Toward the street's far end they stopped at a door level with the +sidewalk, and O'Malley, bending to scrutinize a line of push buttons, +pressed one. + +"Is this the place?" George whispered, in startled revulsion. + +"This is the place. And a good one for Price's purpose as you'll see +when you get in." + +The young man noted the battered doorway, slightly out of plumb, then +stepped back and glanced at the facade. Many of the windows, uncurtained +and open, were lit up. Those of the top floor--dormers projecting from a +mansard roof--were dark. He was about to call O'Malley's attention to +this, when the sounds of footsteps within the house checked him. + +There was a rattling of locks and bolts and the door swung open +disclosing a man, grimy, old and bent, a lamp in his hand. He squinted +uncertainly at them, then growled irritably as he recognized O'Malley: + +"Oh, it's you. I thought you wasn't comin'? If you'd been any later you +wouldn't 'a got me up." + +O'Malley explained that the gentleman was detained--couldn't get away +any earlier, very sorry, but they'd be quick and make no noise--just +wanted to see the rooms and get out. + +In single file, the janitor leading, they mounted the stairs. To the +aristocratic senses of George the place seemed abominable. The +staircase, narrow and without balustrade, ran up steeply between walls +once painted green, now blotched and smeared. At the end of the first +flight there was a small landing, a gas bracket holding aloft a tiny +point of flame. It was as hot as an oven, the stifling atmosphere +impregnated with mingled odors of cooking, stale cigar smoke, and the +mustiness of close, unaired spaces. + +On the second landing one of the doors was open, affording a glimpse of +a squalid interior, and a man in his shirt sleeves bent over a table +writing. He did not look up as they creaked by. From somewhere near, +muffled by walls, came the thin, frail tinkling of guitar strings. As +they ascended the temperature grew higher, the air held in the low attic +story under the roof, baked to a sweltering heat. The janitor muttered +an excuse--the top floor being vacant the windows were kept shut--it +would be cool enough when they were opened. + +He had gained the last landing, which broadened into a small square of +hall cut by three doors. As he turned to one on the left, O'Malley +slipped by him and drew away toward that on the right. There was a +moment of silence, broken by the clinking of the man's keys. He had +trouble in finding the right one and set his lamp down on a chair, his +head bent over the bunch. George was aware of O'Malley's figure casting +a huge wavering shadow up the wall, edging closer to the right hand +door. + +The key was found and inserted in the lock and the janitor entered the +room, his lamp diffusing a yellow aura in the midst of which he moved, a +black, retreating shape. With his withdrawal the light in the hall, +furnished by a bead of gas, faded to a flickering obscurity. O'Malley's +shadow disappeared, and George could see him as a formless oblong, +pressed against the panel. There was a moment of intense stillness, the +guitar tinkling faint as if coming through illimitable distances. The +detective's voice rose in a whisper, vital and intimate, against the +music's spectral thinness: + +"Queer. There's not a sound." + +His hand stole to the handle, clasped it, turned it. Noiselessly the +door opened upon darkness into which he slipped equally noiseless. + +That slow opening was so surprising, so dreamlike in its quality of the +totally unexpected, that George stood rooted. He stared at the square of +the door, waiting for voices, clamor, the anticipated in some form. Then +he saw the darkness pierced by the white ray of an electric torch and +heard a sound--a rumbled oath from O'Malley. It brought him to the +threshold. In the middle of the room, his torch sending its shaft over +walls and floor, stood the detective alone, his face, the light shining +upward on the chin and the tip of his nose, grotesque in its enraged +dismay. + +"Not here--d----n them!" and his voice trailed off into furious curses. + +"Gone?" The surprise had made George forgetful. + +"Gone--no!" The man almost shouted in his anger. "How could they +go?--Didn't I say every outlet was blocked. They ain't been here. They +ain't had her here. Get a match, light the gas--I got to see the place +anyway." + +The torch's ray had touched a gas fixture on the wall and hung steady +there. As the men fumbled for matches, the janitor came clumping across +the hall, calling in querulous protest: + +"Say--how'd you get in there? That ain't the place--it's rented." + + +[Illustration: _His face was ludicrous in its enraged enmity_] + + +He stopped in the doorway, scowling at them under the glow of his upheld +lamp. A match sputtered over the gas and a flame burst up with a +whistling rush. In the combined illumination the room was revealed as +bleak and hideous, the walls with blistered paper peeling off in shreds, +the carpet worn in paths and patches, an iron bed, a bureau, by the one +window, a table. The janitor continuing his expostulations, O'Malley +turned on him and flashed his badge with a fierce: + +"Shut up there. Keep still and get out. We've got a right here and if +you make any trouble you'll hear from us." + +The man shrank, scared. + +"Police!" he faltered, then looking from one to the other. "But what +for? There's no one here, there ain't ever been any one--it's took but +it's been empty ever since." + +O'Malley who had sent an exploring glance about him, made a dive for a +newspaper lying crumpled on the floor by the bed. One look at it, and he +was at the man's side, shaking it in his face: + +"What do you say to this? Yesterday's--how'd it get here? Blew in +through the window maybe." + +The janitor scanned the top of the page, then raised his eyes to the +watching faces. His fright had given place to bewilderment and he began +a stammering explanation--if any one had been there he'd never known it, +never seen no one come in or go out, never heard a sound from the +inside. + +"Did you see any one--any one that isn't a regular resident--come into +the house yesterday or to-day?" It was George's question. + +He didn't know as he'd seen anybody--not to notice. The tenants had +friends, they was in and out all day and part of the night. And anyway +he wasn't around much after he'd swept the halls and taken down the +pails. Yesterday and to-day he guessed he'd stayed in the basement most +of the time. If anybody had been in the room--and it looked like they +had--it was unbeknownst to him. The lady had the key; she could have +come in without him seeing; it wasn't his business to keep tab on the +tenants. He showed a tendency to diverge to the subject of his duties +and George cut him off with a greenback pushed into his grimy claw and +an order to keep their visit secret. + +Meantime O'Malley had started on an examination of the room. There was +more than the paper to prove the presence of a recent occupant. The bed +showed the imprint of a body; pillow and counterpane were indented by +the pressure of a recumbent form. On its foot lay a book, an unworn +copy, as if newly bought, of "The Forest Lovers." The table held an ink +bottle, the ink still moist round its uncorked mouth, some paper and +envelopes and a pen. There was a scattering of pins on the bureau, two +gilt hairpins and a black net veil, crumpled into a bunch. Pushed back +toward the mirror was the cover of the soap dish containing ashes and +the butts of four cigarettes. + +O'Malley studied the bureau closely, ran the light of his torch back and +forth across it, shook out the veil, sniffed it, and put it and the two +hairpins carefully into his wallet. Then with the book and the paper in +his hand he straightened up, turned to George, and said: + +"That about cleans it up. There's nothing for it now but to go back." + +The janitor, anxiously watchful, followed on their heels as they went +down the stairs. Their clattering descent was followed by the strains of +the guitar, thinly debonair and mocking as if exulting over their +discomfiture. In the street the same shape emerged from the shadows and +slouched toward them. A grunted phrase from O'Malley sent it drifting +away, spiritless and without response, like a lonely ghost come in timid +expectation and repelled by a rebuff. + +O'Malley dropped into a corner of the taxi and as it glided off, said: + +"That's the last of 76 Gayle Street as far as they're concerned." + +"Why do you say that?" + +In the darkness the detective permitted himself a sidelong glance of +scorn. + +"You don't leave the door unlocked in that sort of place unless you're +done with it. They've got all they wanted out of it and quit." + +"Abandoned it?" + +"That's right--made a neat, quiet get-away. They didn't say they were +going, didn't give up the key--it was on the inside of the door. Just +slid out and vanished." + +"Some one was there yesterday." + +"Um," O'Malley's voice showed a pondering concentration of thought. +"Some one was lying on the bed reading; waiting or passing time." + +"They couldn't have been there to-day--before your men were on the job?" + +O'Malley drew himself to the edge of the seat, his chest inflated with a +sudden breath: + +"Why couldn't they? Why couldn't _that_ have been the rendezvous? Why +couldn't she have lost the child down here on Gayle Street instead of +opposite Justin's? Price was there beforehand: up she comes, tips him +off that the taxi's in the street, sees him leave and goes herself, +across to Fifth Avenue where she picks up a cab. It's safer than the +other way--no cops round, janitor in the basement, if she's seen nothing +to be remarked--a lady known to have a room on the top floor." He +brought his fist down on his knee. "That's what they did and it explains +what's been puzzling me." + +"What?" + +"There was no dust on the top of the bureau; it had been wiped off +to-day. There was no dust on that veil; it hadn't been there since +yesterday. A woman fixed herself at that glass not so long ago. Price +had a date with her to deliver the child and he was lying on the bed +reading while he waited. When he heard her he threw down the book, got +the good word and lit out. After he'd gone she took off her veil--what +for? To get her face up to show to Mrs. Price--whiten it, make it look +right for the news she was bringing. When she left she was made up for +the part she was to play. And I take my hat off to her, for she played +it like a star." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX--MOLLY'S STORY + + +It was nearly seven when we got back to Grasslands. We alighted as +silent as we started, and I was following Miss Maitland into the hall, +Ferguson behind me, when she turned in the doorway and spoke. She had +orders that the servants must know nothing; she was to tell them that +the family would stay in town for a few days, and for me to be careful +what I said before them. Then, before I could answer, she glanced at +Ferguson and said good-by, her eyes just touching him for a moment and +passing, cold and weary, back to me. She'd wish me good-night, she was +going to her room and not coming down again--no, thanks, she'd take no +dinner, she was very tired. She didn't need to say that. If I ever saw a +person dead beat and at the end of her string she was it. + +Ferguson stood looking after her. I think for the moment he forgot me, +or maybe he wasn't conscious of what his face showed. Some way or other +I didn't like to look at him; it was as if I was spying on something I +had no right to see. So I turned away and dropped into one of the +balcony chairs, sunk down against the back and feeling limp as a rag. + +Presently came his step and he was in front of me, his head bent down +with the hair hanging loose on his forehead, and his eyes like they were +hooks that would pull the words out of me: + +"What happened up there at the Whitneys?" + +"Mr. Ferguson," I answered solemn, "I've told you more than I ought +already. Is it the right thing for me to go on doing wrong?" + +"Yes," he says, sharp and decided, "it's exactly the right thing. Keep +on doing it and we'll get somewhere." + +I set my lips tight and looked past him at the lawn. He waited a minute +then said: + +"I thought you agreed to trust me." + +"There's a good deal more to it now than there was then." + +"All the more reason for telling me. Of course I can get all I want from +Mrs. Janney or either of the Whitneys; they don't let ladylike scruples +stand in the way. But that means a trip to town and I'm not ready to +take it." + +It was surprising how that young man could make you feel like a worm who +had a conscience in place of common sense. + +"Have I got your word, sworn to on the Bible, if we had one here, not to +give her a hint of it?" + +"Good Lord!" he groaned. "Don't talk like the ingenue in a melodrama. +Let me see why the Whitneys think so much of you. You must have _some_ +intelligence--give me a sample of it." + +That settled it. + +"Take a seat," I said. "You make me nervous staring at me like the lion +in the menagerie at the fat child." + +He sat down and I told him--the whole business, what she had said, what +they had thought--everything. When I'd finished he rose up and, with his +hands burrowed deep in his pockets, began pacing up and down the +balcony. I didn't give a peep, watching him cautious from under my +eyelids. + +After a bit he said in a low voice: + +"Preposterous--crazy! She had no more to do with it than you have." + +"They think different." + +"I've gathered that. And Price had nothing to do with it either." + +It was all very well for him to stand by her, but to sweep Price off the +map! I couldn't sit still and let him rave on. + +"Price hadn't? Take another guess. Price is the mainspring of it." + +"I'll leave guessing to you--it's your business, and you appear to do it +very well." + +"Say, drop me altogether. I'm only a paid servant. But you'll have to +admit that Mr. Whitney and his son count pretty big in their line." + +"Very big, Miss Rogers. But they've made a mistake this time--or +possibly been misled. The Janneys have never been fair to Price. They're +prejudiced and they've branded the prejudice on. He isn't an angel, +neither is he a rascal. He didn't take his child, he never thought of +it, he couldn't do it." + +"Then who did?" + +"That's what I want to find out." + +"Jerusalem!" I said, sitting up, feeling like the peaceful scene around +me was suddenly dark and strange. "You don't think she's _really_ been +kidnaped?" + +"I can't think anything else." He stopped in front of me, looking at me +hard and stern. "I'd like to find another solution but I'm unable to." + +"But, gee-whizz!" I stared at him, all worried and mixed. "You can't get +away from the facts. They're all there--there's hardly a break." + +"I don't admit that. This man and woman have got characters and records +that haven't been considered--but even if you had a hole-proof case +against them I wouldn't believe it." + +"Oh, pshaw!" I said, simmering down, "you just believe what you want to. +I've seen people like that before." + +"I daresay you have, I'm not a unique specimen in the human family. But +I'll tell you what I am just at this juncture--the only one among you +that's right." He drew back and gave a vengeful wag of his head at me. +"You've all gone off at half-cock--doing your best to ruin a man who's +harmless and a girl who's--who's--" he stopped, and wheeled away from +me. "Tch--it makes me sick! Hate and anger and jealousy--that's what's +at the bottom of it. I can't talk about it any longer--it's too beastly. +Good-night!" + +He turned on his heel, ran down the steps and over the grass, clearing +the terrace wall with a leap. I looked after him, fading into the early +night, disturbed and with a sort of cold heaviness in my heart. He was +no fool--suppose what he thought was true? Suppose that dear child whom +I'd grown to love--but, rubbish! I wouldn't think of it. It was easy to +account for the way he felt. Every little movement has a meaning of its +own--and the meaning in all his little movements was love. He had it +bad, poor chap, out on him like the measles, and while you have to be +gentle with the sick you don't pay much attention to what they say. + +That was a dreary evening. There being no one but me around they served +my dinner in the dining room, and it added to the strain. Some of the +food I didn't know whether to eat with a fork or a spoon, so I had to +pass up a lot which was hard seeing I was hungry. But when you're born +in an east side tenement you feel touchy that way--I wasn't going to be +criticized by two corn-fed menials. I'm glad I'm not rich; it's grand +all right, but it isn't comfortable. + +The next day--Saturday--it rained and I sat round in the hall and my +room where I could hear the 'phone and keep an eye on Miss Maitland. All +she did was to go for a walk, and in the afternoon stay in her study. We +saw each other at meals, our conversation specially edited for Dixon and +Isaac. + +Sunday was fine weather again and Ferguson came round at twelve. Miss +Maitland had gone for another walk and he and I had the hall to +ourselves. He'd been in town the day before, seen George Whitney and +told him what he thought. When I asked how Mr. George took it, he gave a +sarcastic smile and said, "He listened very politely but didn't seem +much impressed." He also told me they'd hoped to find the child Friday +night in the room at 76 Gayle Street and had been disappointed. + +"Of course she wasn't there," and he ended with "it was only wasting +valuable time, but there's a proverb about none being so blind as those +who won't see." + +After that he dropped the subject--I think he wanted to get away from +it--and pow-wowing together we worked around to the robbery, which had +been side-tracked by the bigger matter. He said it had been in his mind +to tell me a curious circumstance that he'd come on the night the jewels +were taken and that he thought might be helpful to me. It was about a +cigar band that Miss Maitland had found in the woods that evening when +he and she had walked home together. Before he was half through I was +listening attentive as a cat at a mouse hole, for it was a queer story +and had possibilities. After I put some questions and had it all clear, +we mulled it over--the way I love to do. + +"A man dropped it," I said slowly, my thoughts chasing ahead of my +words, "who went through the woods after the storm." + +"Exactly--between eight-thirty and ten-thirty. And do you grasp the fact +that those were the hours the house was vacated--the logical time to rob +it?" + +"Yes, I've thought of that often--wondered why they waited." + +"And do you grasp another fact--that Hannah a little before nine heard +the dogs barking and then quieting down as if they scented some one they +knew?" + +I nodded; that too I'd made a mental note of. + +"It couldn't have been Price for he was on the way to town then." + +"Oh, Price--" he gave an impatient jerk of his head--"of course it +wasn't Price, but it _was_ some one the dogs knew. That would have been +just about the time a man, watching the house and seeing the ground +floor dark, would have come across the lawn to make his entrance." + +I pondered for a spell then said: + +"Did you ever tell this to Mrs. Janney or any of them?" + +"No, I didn't think of it myself until a little while ago--the night I +dined here and saw it was one of Mr. Janney's cigars. And then what was +the use--the light by the safe had fixed the time." + +"Yes--if it wasn't for that light you'd have got a real lead. Too bad, +for it's a bully starting point, and it would have let out those other +two." + +He stiffened up, suddenly haughty looking. + +"There's no necessity of letting out people who never were in. But if +that light was eliminated you could work on the theory that a +professional thief--an expert safe opener--had done the business." + +"How would the dogs know _him_?" I asked. + +He leaned toward me, looking with a quiet sort of meaning into my face: + +"Suppose you put that mind of yours, that Wilbur Whitney values so +highly and I'm beginning to see indications of, on that question." + +"What's the sense of wasting it? My mind's my capital and I don't draw +on it unless there's a need. You get rid of that light at one-thirty and +I'll expend some of it." + +I laughed, but he didn't, looking on the ground frowning and thoughtful. +Then a step on the balcony made us both turn. It was Miss Maitland, back +from her walk, looking much better, a smile at the sight of him, and a +little color in her face. She joined us and, Dixon announcing lunch, +Ferguson invited himself to stay. It was the first human meal I'd eaten +since the doors of the dining room had opened to me. + +After lunch I left them on the balcony and went upstairs to my room. I +tried to read but the air, blowing in warm and sweet and the scent of +the garden coming up, made the book seem dull, and I went to the window +and leaned out. + +A while passed that way and then I saw Ferguson going home, a long +figure in white flannels striding across the lawn to the wood path. Then +out from the kitchen come the servants, all togged up, six girls and +Isaac, and away they go on their bikes to the beach. From what I've seen +of the homes of the rich I'd rather be in the kitchen than the +parlor--the help have it all over the quality for plain enjoyment. They +went off bawling gayly, and presently Dixon appears, looking like a +parson on his day off, all brisk and cheerful. Last of all comes Hannah, +her hair as slick as a seal's, a dinky little hat set on top of it, and +a parasol held over it all. She waddled off, large and slow, in another +direction, toward the woods--for a cup of tea and a neighborly gossip in +Ferguson's kitchen, I guess. How I wished I was along with them! + +There I was left, lolling back and forth on the sill, kicking with my +toes on the floor, and wondering what my poor, deserted boy was doing in +town. Then sudden, piercing the stillness with a sort of tingling +thrill, comes the ring of the hall telephone. + +I gave a soft jump, snatched up my pad and pencil, and was at the table +and had the receiver off before she'd got to the closet downstairs. It +was so quiet, not a sound in the house, that I could hear every catch in +her breath and every tone in her voice. And what I heard was worth +listening to. A man spoke first: + +"Hello, who's this?" + +"Esther Maitland. Is it--is it?" + +"Yes--C. P. I've waited until now as I knew there wouldn't be anybody +around. It's all right." + +"Truly. You're not saying it to keep me quiet?" + +"Not a bit. There's no need for any worry. Everything's gone without a +hitch." + +"And you think it's safe--to--to--take the next step?" + +"Perfectly. We're going to get her out of town on Tuesday night." + +"Oh!" I could hear the relief in her voice. "You don't know what this +means to me?" + +He gave a little, dry laugh: + +"Me too--I'll admit it's been something of a strain. That's all I wanted +to say. Good-by." + +I scratched it on the pad, and tiptoed back to my room, short of breath +a bit myself. What would Ferguson say to this? I stood by the window, +thinking how to send it in, and things went right for out she came from +the balcony and walked across to a place on the lawn where there were +some chairs under a group of maples. She sat down and began to read, and +I stole back to the hall and took a call for the Whitney house. Being +Sunday they might be out, but that went right too, for I got the Chief +himself. I told him and asked for instructions and they came straight +and quick: + +"Bring her into town to-morrow morning. There's a train at nine-thirty +you can take. Get a taxi at the depot and come right up to the office. +You'll have to tell her in what capacity you're serving the family. +That'll be easy--you were engaged for the robbery. Don't let her think +you have any interest in the kidnaping, and on no account let her guess +we suspect her. Say you've had a message from me, that some new facts +have come in and I want to ask her a few questions--see if the +information tallies with what she saw. Keep her quiet and calm. Got that +straight? All right--so long." + + + + +CHAPTER XX--MOLLY'S STORY + + +The next morning, in the hall, right after breakfast I told her what I +had to tell--I mean who I was. It gave her a start--held her listening +with her eyes hard on mine--then when I explained it was for inside work +on the robbery she eased up, got cool and nodded her head at me, +politely agreeing. She understood perfectly and would go wherever she +was wanted; she was glad to do anything that would be of assistance; no +one was more anxious than she to help the family in their distress, and +so forth and so on. + +On the way in she was quiet, but I don't think as peaceful as she acted. +She asked me some questions about my work. I answered brisk and bright +and she said it must be a very interesting profession. I've seen nervy +people in my time but no woman that beat her for cool sand, and the way +I'm built I can't help but respect courage no matter what the person's +like who has it. Before we reached town I was full of admiration for +that girl who, as far as I could judge, was a crook from the ground up. + +When we reached the office I was called into an inner room where the +Chief and Mr. George were waiting. I gave them my paper with the 'phone +message on it, and answered the few questions they had to ask. I learned +then that they'd got hold of more evidence against her. O'Malley had +snooped round the Gayle Street locality and heard that on Friday morning +about half-past eleven a taxi, containing a child resembling Bebita, had +been seen opposite a book bindery on the corner of the block. I didn't +hear any particulars but I saw by the Chief's manner, quiet and sort of +absorbed, and by Mr. George, like a blue-ribbon pup straining at the +leash, that they had Esther Maitland dead to rights and the end was in +sight. + +After that I was sent back into the hall where I'd left her and told to +bring her into the old man's private office. We went up the passage, a +murmur of voices growing louder as we advanced. She was ahead and, as +the door opened, she stopped for a moment on the threshold, quick, like +a horse that wants to shy. Over her shoulder I could see in, and I don't +wonder she pulled up--any one would. There, beside the Chief and Mr. +George, were the two old Janneys and Mrs. Price, sitting stiff as +statues, each of them with their eyes on her, gimlet-sharp and +gimlet-hard. They said some sort of "How d'ye do" business and made bows +like Chinese mandarins, but their faces would have made a chorus girl +get thoughtful. I guessed then they knew about the tapped message and +had come to see Miss Maitland get the third degree. She scented the +trouble ahead too--I don't see how she could have helped it; there was +thunder in the air. But she said good-morning to them, cordial and easy, +and walked over to the chair Mr. George pushed forward for her. + +Sitting there in the midst of them, she looked at the Chief, politely +inquiring, and I couldn't help but think she was a winner. Mrs. Price, +all weazened up and washed out, was like a cosmetic advertisement beside +her. She held herself very straight, her hands folded together in her +lap, her head up cool and proud. She had on the white hat with the +wreath of grapes and a wash-silk dress of white with lilac stripes that +set easy over her fine shoulders, and, believe me, bad or good, she was +a thoroughbred. + +The Chief, turning himself round toward her with a hitch of his chair, +began as bland and friendly as if they'd just met at a tea-fest. + +"We're very sorry to bother you again, Miss Maitland. But certain facts +have come up since you were here that make it necessary for me to ask +you a few more questions." + +She just inclined her head a little and murmured: + +"It's no bother at all, Mr. Whitney. I'm only too anxious to help in any +way I can." + +Honest-to-God I think the Chief got a jar; the words came as smooth and +as cool as cream just off the ice. For a second he looked at his desk +and moved a paper knife very careful, as if it was precious and he was +afraid of breaking it. + +"I'm glad to hear you say that, Miss Maitland. It's not only what one +would expect you to feel, but it makes me sure that you will be willing +to explain certain circumstances concerning yourself and +your--er--activities--that have--well--er--rather puzzled us." + +It was my business to watch her and even if it hadn't been I couldn't +have helped doing it. I saw just two things--the light strike white +across the breast of her blouse where a quick breath lifted it, and, for +a second, her hands close tight till the knuckles shone. Then they +relaxed and she said very softly: + +"Certainly. I'll explain anything." + +"Very good. I was sure you would." He leaned forward, one arm on the +desk, his big shoulders hunched, his eyes sharp on her but still very +kind. "We have discovered--of course you'll understand that our +detectives have been busy in all directions--that nearly a month ago you +took a room at 76 Gayle Street. Now that I should ask about this may +seem an unwarranted impertinence, but I would like to know just why you +took that room." + +There was a slight pause. Mrs. Price, who was sitting next to me, an +empty chair in front of her, rustled and in the moment of silence I +could hear her breathing, short and catchy, like it was coming hard. +Miss Maitland, who, as the Chief had spoken, had dropped her eyes to her +hands, looked up at him: + +"I have no objection to telling you. I took it for a school friend of +mine--Aggie Brown, a girl I hadn't seen for years. A month ago she wrote +me from St. Louis and told me she was coming to New York to study art +and asked me to engage a room for her. She said she had very little +money and it must be inexpensive. I had heard of that place from other +girls--that it was respectable and cheap--so I engaged the room. It so +happens that my friend is not yet in New York. She was delayed by +illness in her family." + +I sent a look around and caught them like pictures going quick in a +movie--Mr. Janney glimpsing sideways, worried and frowning, at his wife, +Mr. George, his arm on the back of his chair, pulling at his little +blonde mustache and twisting his mouth around, and the Chief pawing +absent-minded after the paper knife. Miss Maitland, with her chin up and +her shoulders square, had her eye on him, attentive and steady, like a +soldier waiting for orders. + +Then out of the silence came Mrs. Janney's voice, rumbling like distant +thunder: + +"But you went to that room yourself?" + +The Chief's hand made a quick wave at her for silence. Miss Maitland +didn't seem to notice it; she turned to Mrs. Janney and answered: + +"Yes, several times, Mrs. Janney. I'd had to pay the rent in advance and +I had a key, so when I was in town and had time to spare I went there. +It was quiet and convenient--I used to write letters and read." + +"Would you mind telling me why Mr. Chapman Price went there too?" + +It was the Chief's voice this time, quite low and oh, so deep and mild. +Miss Maitland's attitude didn't change, but again her hands clasped and +stayed clasped. She gave a little, provocative smile, almost as if she +was trying to flirt with him, and said: + +"You seem to know a great deal about me and my affairs, Mr. Whitney." + +He returned the smile, good-humored, as if he liked the way she'd come +back at him. + +"A little, Miss Maitland. You see we have had to, unpleasant but still +necessary--you have no objection to answering?" + +"Oh, not the least, only--" her glance swept over the solemn faces of +the others--"I'm afraid Mrs. Janney may not approve of what I've done. I +met Mr. Price there to tell him about Bebita; I was sorry for him, for +the position he was in. He was fond of her and he heard almost nothing +about her. So I arranged to give him news of her, tell him how she was, +and little funny things she had said. It wasn't the right thing to do +but I--I--pitied him so." + +A sound--I can't call it anything but a grunt--came from Mrs. Janney. +Mr. George, still pulling at his mustache, shifted uneasily in his +chair. Beside me I could hear that stifled breathing of Mrs. Price, and +her hand, all covered with rings, stole forward and clasped like a +bird's claw on the chair in front. I don't think Miss Maitland noticed +any of this. Her eyes were on the Chief, fixed and sort of defiant. Her +face had lost its calm look; there were pink spots on her cheek bones. + +"A natural thing to do," said the Chief mildly, "though hardly discreet +considering the situation. But we won't argue about that--we'll pass on +to the business of the moment. Now you told us last time you were here +that you left the taxi in front of Justin's. Inquiries there of the +doorman have elicited the information that he remembers the cab and the +child, and says it was still there when you came out and that you got +into it and drove away." + +"How can the doorman at a place where hundreds of carriages stop every +day remember the people in each one?" All the softness was gone out of +her voice and her face began to look different, as if it had grown +thinner. "It's absurd--he couldn't possibly be sure of every woman and +child who stopped there. My word is against his, and it seems to me I'm +much more likely to know what I did than he is--especially _that_ day." + +"Certainly, certainly." The Chief was all kindly understanding. "Under +the circumstances every event of that morning should be impressed on +your memory. But another fact has come up that seems to us curious. One +of our detectives has heard from a clerk in a book bindery at the corner +near 76 Gayle Street, that on Friday last, at about half-past eleven, he +saw a taxi standing at the curb there. He noticed a child in it talking +to the driver and his description of this child, her appearance and +clothes, is a very accurate description of Bebita." + +He looked at her over his glasses, with a sort of ominous, waiting +attention. I'd have wilted under it, but she didn't, only what had been +a restrained quietness gave place to a sort of steely tension. You could +see that her body all over was as rigid as the hands clenched together, +the fingers knotted round each other. It was will and a fighting spirit +that kept her up. I began to feel my own muscles drawing tight, +wondering if she'd get through and praying that she would--I don't know +why. + +"It's quite possible that this man--this clerk--may have seen such a +taxi with such a child in it. There must be a great many little girls in +New York whose description would fit Bebita. I dare say if your +detective had gone about the city he would have heard of any number of +cabs and children that would have fitted just as well. I can't imagine +why you're asking me these questions or why you don't seem to believe +what I say. But even if you don't believe it, that won't prevent me from +sticking to it." + +"A commendable spirit, Miss Maitland, when one is sure of one's facts," +said the Chief, and suddenly pushing back his chair he rose. "Now I've +just one more matter to call to your attention, a little memorandum +here, which, if you'll be good enough to explain, we'll end this rather +trying interview." + +He went over to her, fumbling in his vest pocket, and then drew out my +folded paper and put it into her hand: + +"It's the record of a telephone message received by you yesterday at +Grasslands, and tapped by our detective, Miss Rogers." + +He stepped back and stood leaning against the desk watching her. We all +did; there wasn't an eye in that room which wasn't glued on that +unfortunate girl as she opened the paper and read the words. + +It was a knock-out blow. I knew it would be--I didn't see how it +couldn't--and yet she'd put up such a fight that some way or other I +thought she'd pull out. But that bowled her over like a nine pin. + +She turned as white as the paper and her hands holding it shook so you +could hear it rustle. Then she looked up and her eyes were +awful--hunted, desperate. Yet she made a last frantic effort, with her +face like a death mask and all the breath so gone out of her she had +only a hoarse thread of voice: + +"I--I--don't know what this is--oh, yes, yes, I mean I do. But it--it +refers to something else--it's--it's--that friend of mine--Aggie Brown +from St. Louis--she's come and Mr. Price--" + +She couldn't go on; her lips couldn't get out any words. You could see +the brain behind them had had such a shock it wouldn't work. + +"Miss Maitland," said the Chief, solemn as an executioner, "we've got +you where you can't keep this up. There's no use in these evasions and +denials. Where is Bebita?" + +"I don't know--I don't know anything about her. I swear to Heaven I +don't." + +She raised her voice with the last words and looked at them, round at +those stony faces, wild like an animal cornered. + +"What's the matter with you? Why do you think I'd be a party to such a +thing? Why don't you believe me--why _can't_ you believe me? And you +don't--not one of you. You think I'm guilty of this infamous thing. All +right, _think_ it. Do what you like with me--arrest me, put me in jail, +I don't care." + +She put her hands over her face and collapsed down in her chair, like a +spring that had held her up had broken. That breathing beside me had +grown so loud it sounded as if it came from some one running the last +lap of a race. Now it suddenly broke into a sound--more like a growl +than anything else--and Mrs. Price got up, shuffling and shaking, her +hands holding on to the chair in front. + +"She ought to be put in jail," she gasped out. "She's bad right +through--everything she's said is a lie. And she's a thief too." + +There was a movement of consternation among them all--getting up, +pushing back chairs, several voices speaking together: + +"Keep quiet." + +"Mrs. Price, I beg of you--" + +"Suzanne, sit down." + +But she went on, looking like a withered old witch, with her bird-like +hands clutched on the chair back: + +"I won't sit down, I won't keep quiet. I've sat here listening to all +this and I've had enough. I'm crazy; my baby's gone; she's taken it, +she's taken everything--" She turned to her mother. "She took your +jewels--I know it." + +Mr. Janney burst in like a bombshell. I never thought he could break +loose that way, with his voice shrill and a shaking finger pointing into +his stepdaughter's face. + +"Stop this. I can't stand for it--I know something about that--I saw--" + +But she wouldn't stop, no one could make her: + +"I saw too, and I'm going to tell you. I don't care what you say, I +don't care what you think of me--my heart's broken and I don't care for +anything but to have my baby back." She addressed her mother again. "_I_ +went to take your jewels that night. Yes, I did; I went to steal +them--not all of them--just that long diamond chain you never wear. +_You_ know why; you knew I hadn't any money and that I had to have it. I +was going to sell it and put what I got in stocks and if I was lucky buy +it back so you'd never know. It was _I_ who took Bebita's torch--that's +why it was lost--and I went down to the safe. I'd found the combination +in a drawer in the library and learnt it. And when I opened it +everything was gone. Some one had been there before me, the cases were +all together in their box but they were empty." She clawed at the +embroidered purse hanging on her arm and began to jerk at the cord, +pulling it open. "But I found something, something the thief had +dropped, lying on the floor just inside the door." She drew out a twist +of tissue paper, and unrolling it held it toward the Chief; "I found +_that_." + +He took it, scrutinizing it, puzzled, through his glasses. Every one of +us except Miss Maitland, all standing now, craned forward to see. It was +a pointed pink thing about as big as the end of my little finger. The +Chief touched it and said: + +"It looks like a small rose." + +"Yes, a chiffon rosebud," Mrs. Price cried, "and she," pointing to Miss +Maitland, "wore a dress that night trimmed with them." + +We all turned, as if we were a piece of mechanism worked by the same +spring, and stared at Miss Maitland. She sat in the chair, not moving, +looking straight before her, weary and indifferent. The Chief held out +toward her the piece of paper with the rose on the middle of it. + +"Have you a dress trimmed with these?" + +She moved her eyes so they rested on the rose, ran her tongue along her +lips and said: + +"Yes." + +"Did you wear it on the night of the robbery?" + +"Yes." + +"Did you hear what Mrs. Price has just said?" + +"Yes." + +"What explanation do you make?" + +"None--except that I don't know how it got there." + +"You deny that you were there yourself that night?" + +"Yes--I was never near the safe that night; I haven't the slightest idea +how the rose came to be in it; I never took the jewels; I have had +nothing to do with Bebita's disappearance; I haven't done any of the +things you think I've done. But what's the good of my saying so--what's +the good of answering at all?" She dropped her face into her hands, her +elbows propped on her knees. The attitude, the tone of her voice, +everything about her, suggested an "Oh-what's-the-use!" feeling. From +behind her hands the words came dull and listless. "Do anything you like +with me; it doesn't make any difference. You think you've got me +cornered; that being the case, I'll do whatever you say." + +Mrs. Janney made a step toward her: + +"Miss Maitland, I'll agree to let the whole matter drop--hush it up and +let you go without a word--if you'll tell us where Bebita is." + +Without moving her hands the girl answered: + +"I can't tell, for I don't know." + +Mrs. Price sank into her chair with a loud, sobbing wail. Some one took +her away--Mr. George, I think. Then Mr. Janney had his say: + +"If you're doing this to protect Price--" + +She cut him off with a laugh, at least it was meant to be a laugh, but +it was a horrible, harsh sound. As she gave it she lifted her head and +cast a look at him, bitter and defiant: + +"Protect him! I've no more desire to protect Mr. Price than I have to +protect myself." + +The Chief's voice fell deep as the church bell at a funeral: + +"If you maintain this attitude, Miss Maitland, there's nothing for us to +do but let the law take its course. Theft and kidnaping! Those are +pretty serious charges." + +She nodded: + +"I suppose they are. Let the law do whatever it wants; I'm certainly not +standing in its way. But as for bribing and frightening me into +admitting what isn't true, you can't do it. All your money," she looked +at Mrs. Janney and then at the Chief, "and all _your_ threats won't +influence me or make me change one word of what I've said." + +No one spoke for a minute. She sat silent, her chin on her hands, her +eyes staring past them out of the window. I had a feeling that in spite +of the position she was in and what they had on her, in a sort of way +she had them beaten. Their faces were glum and baffled, even the Chief +had an abstracted expression like he was thinking what he ought to do +with her. When he spoke it was to the Janneys: + +"Since Miss Maitland persists in her present pose of ignorance and +denial, the best thing for us is to get together and decide on our +course of action." He glanced across at me. "We'll leave you here, +Molly. Stay till we come back." + +Away they went, a solemn procession, trailing across the room. When the +door into the main office opened I could hear Mrs. Price crying, and I +watched them, catching Mrs. Janney's words as she disappeared: "Oh, +Suzanne, my poor, poor, girl! Don't give up--don't be discouraged--we'll +find her!" + +It gripped me, made a sort of prickling come in my nose and a twisty +feeling in my under lip. I never could have believed that stern old +Roman could have spoken so tender and loving to any one. + +When I looked at Miss Maitland I forgot all about suffering mothers. +She'd sunk down in the chair, her head resting against its back, her +eyes closed. She was as white as a corpse, and I wheeled about looking +round the room for some kind of first aid and muttering, "Gee, she's +fainted!" + +A whisper came out of her lips: + +"Nothing--all right--in a minute." + +There was a bottle of distilled water in a corner and I went to it, drew +off a glass and brought it to her. She couldn't hold it and I took her +round the shoulders and pulled her up, saying out of the inner depths of +me, that's always mushy about anything hurt and forlorn: + +"You, poor soul, here take this. I'm sorry for you, and I can't help +being sorry that I had to give you away." + +I held the glass to her lips and she drank a little. Then I let her fall +back and stood watching her, and I felt mean. She raised her eyes and +sent a look into mine that I'll never forget--it made me feel meaner +than a yellow dog--for it was the look of a suffering soul. + +"Thanks," was all she said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI--SIGNED "CLANSMEN" + + +The consultation in the office resulted in Esther Maitland being taken +to O'Malley's flat in Stuyvesant Square, where his wife and sister +agreed to be responsible for her. This course had been decided upon +after some heated argument. Suzanne had clamored for her arrest, but the +others were still determined to keep the affair out of the public eye, +which, if Esther was brought before a magistrate, would have been +impossible. The Janneys were more than ever convinced that Price was the +prime mover, and the girl's attitude had been prompted by the combined +motives of love and gain. George, who knew his father's every phase, +noticed that the old man was reserved in his comments, and wondered if +his conviction had been shaken by Miss Maitland's desperate denials. But +if it was he said nothing, agreeing that with the girl hidden and unable +to communicate with the outside world, they could concentrate their +attention on Chapman and through him locate the child. + +Miss Maitland was docile to all their suggestions. She would go wherever +they wanted, place herself under the surveillance of the two women, and +do whatever was asked of her. She went off in a taxi with O'Malley, and +Molly was sent back to Grasslands. There was no need of her services in +town and it was probable that Chapman, believing his confederate to be +there, would call up the place. + +The Janney party returned to the hotel, a silent, gloomy trio. The old +people were very gentle to Suzanne. On the drive up, Mrs. Janney held +her in the hollow of her arm, pressed close, yearning over her in her +shame and sorrow and feebleness. To the strong woman she was a child +again, a soft, helpless thing. The mother blamed herself for having been +hard on her. + +After lunch old Sam suggested a drive--the air would do them good. They +tried to persuade Suzanne to come, but the young woman, prone on the +sofa, a salts bottle at hand, refused to stir. She wanted to be quiet; +she wanted to rest. So, knowing the uselessness of argument, they kissed +her and went. + +Alone, she lay on her back staring at the wall in a trance-like +concentration. Her expression did not suggest the state of crushed shame +under which her parents thought she languished. In fact her past actions +had no place in her mind; she had forgotten her confession in the +office. An idea, formidable and obsessing, had taken possession of her, +settled on her like a shadow. It was possible that their conclusions +were wrong. + +She had had it from the start, off and on, coming at her in rushes of +disintegrating doubt. She had said nothing about it, had tried to force +it down, and, talking to them, had been reassured by their unquestioning +certainty. Now the scene in the office had strengthened it--something +about Esther Maitland, she didn't know what. She had assured herself +then--she tried to do it now--that there could be no mistake, they had +proofs, the girl hadn't been able to explain anything. But she could not +argue it away; it persisted, stronger than thought, power or will, +unescapable like the horror of a dream. + +It came from an instinct that kept whispering deep down in the recesses +of her being, "Chapman couldn't have done it." She knew him better than +the others did, the vagaries of his ugly temper, the lines his +weaknesses ran upon. She knew him through and through, to what lengths +anger might urge him, what he could do when aroused and what he never +could do. And trying to convince herself of his guilt, marshaling the +facts against him, going over them point by point, she couldn't make +herself believe that he had stolen Bebita. + +And if he hadn't, then where was she? + +This was the hideous thought, pressing in upon her recognition, +intrusive as Banquo's ghost and as terrible. She writhed under its +torment, twisting and turning until her clothes were wound about her in +a tangled coil, moaning as her imagination touched at and recoiled from +grisly possibilities. + +She was lying thus when the door-bell rang. Glad of any interruption she +sat up, and, swinging her feet to the floor, called out a sharp "Come +in." A bell-boy entered with a letter which he presented with the +information that Mr. Janney had ordered all mail to be brought +immediately to the rooms. The letter was for her, addressed in +typewriting, and as the boy withdrew she rose, heavy-eyed and +heavy-headed, and tore open the envelope. The first line brought a thin, +choked cry out of her, and then she stood motionless, her glance +devouring the words. Dated the day before, typewritten on a single sheet +of commercial paper, it ran as follows: + + "Mrs. Suzanne Price, + + "_Dear Madam:_ + + "We have your little girl. She is safe with us and will continue + to be if you act in good faith and accede to our demands. We + frankly state that our object in taking her was ransom and we + are now ready to enter upon negotiations with you. This, + however, only upon certain conditions. All transactions between + us must be conducted with absolute secrecy. If any member of + your family is told, if the police are notified, be assured that + we will know it, and that it will react upon your child. Let it + be clearly understood--if you inform against us, if you make an + attempt to trap or apprehend us, she will pay the price. We hold + her as a hostage; her fate is in your hands. If, however, you + know of a person in no wise involved or connected with you or + your family, having no personal interest in the matter, and of + whose discretion and reliability you are convinced, we are + willing to deal through them. Copy the form below, fill in blank + spaces with name and address and insert in _Daily Record_ + personals. + + "(Name).................................. + + "(Address)............................... + + "S. O. S. + + "_Clansmen._" + +Suzanne's hand holding the paper dropped to her side and she looked +about the room with eyes vacant and unseeing. All her outward forces +were shocked into temporary suspension; for a moment she had no +realization of where or who she was. The letter was the only fact she +recognized and sentences from it chased through her consciousness: "We +hold her as a hostage, her fate is in your hands. She is safe with us if +you accede to our demands." She saw them written on the walls, they +boomed in her ears like notes of doom. It was confirmation of that +instinct she had tried to smother; like the wand of a baleful genii it +had transformed her nightmare fancies into sinister reality. + +She felt a shriek rising to her lips and pressed her hand against them. +Secrecy, silence, her stunned brain had grasped that and directed her +restraining hand. Then the one deep feeling of her shallow nature called +her shattered faculties into order. Love lent her power, steadied her, +gave her the will to act. + +She sat down on the sofa and read the letter again, slowly, getting its +full significance. For the first time in her life responsibility was +cast upon her; she could throw the burden on no one else. By her own +efforts, by her own courage and initiative, she must get Bebita back. +She whispered it over, "I must do it. I must do it myself," then fell +silent, her face stony in its tension of thought. Suddenly its rigidity +broke; in an illuminating flash she saw the first step clear, and rising +ran to the telephone. The person she called up was Larkin. He answered +himself and she told him she wanted to see him on a matter of great +importance and would come at once to his office. + +Fifteen minutes later, her face hidden by a chiffon veil, her rumpled +smartness covered with a silk motor coat, she was knocking at his door. + +Mr. Larkin's office was cool and shady, the blinds half lowered to keep +out the glare of the afternoon sun. In the midst of its airy neatness, +surrounded by an imposing array of desks, card cabinets, typewriters and +files, Mr. Larkin was waiting alone for his important client. + +She dropped into the chair he set for her, and, pushing up her veil, +revealed a countenance so bereft of the petulant prettiness he knew, +that he started and stood gazing in open concern. The sight of his +astonishment caused the tears to well into Suzanne's eyes, drowned and +sunken by past floods, and her story to break without prelude from her +lips. + +Larkin's surprise at her appearance gave place to a tight-gripped +interest when he grasped the main fact of her narrative. He let her run +through it without interruption nodding now and then, a frowning +sidelong glance on her face. + +When she had finished he drew a deep breath and said: + +"The moment I saw you, I knew something was wrong. But this--" he raised +his hands and let them drop on the desk--"Good Lord! I hadn't an idea it +was anything so serious." + +But she hadn't finished--the worst, the thing that had brought her--she +had yet to tell. And she began about the letter received an hour ago. At +that Larkin forgot his sympathies, was the detective again, hardly +concealing his impatience as he watched her fumbling at the cords of her +purse. Finally extracted and given to him he read it, once and then +again, Suzanne eyeing him like a hungry dog. + +"Last evening," he muttered after a scrutiny of the postmark, "Grand +Central Station." Then he rose, went to the window and, jerking up the +blind, held the paper against the light, sniffed at it, and felt its +texture between his thumb and finger. Suzanne saw him shake his head, +her avid glance following him as he came back to the desk and studied +the sheet through a magnifying glass. + +"Nothing to be got that way," he said. "Typepaper--impossible to trace. +No amateur business about this." + +Suzanne's voice was husky: + +"Do you mean it's professional people--a gang?" + +"I can't say exactly. But from what you tell me--the way it was +accomplished, the plan of action--I should be inclined to think it was +the work of more than one person--possibly a group--who had ability and +experience." + +Suzanne, clutching at the corner of the desk with a trembling hand, +cried in her misery: + +"Oh, Mr. Larkin, you don't think they'll hurt her. They wouldn't _dare_ +to hurt her?" + +The detective's glance was kindly but grave: + +"Mrs. Price, I'll speak frankly. I think your child is in the hands of a +pretty desperate person or persons. But I have no apprehension that +they'll do her any harm. They don't want to do that--it's too dangerous. +What they might do if their plans fail is a thing we'll not +consider--it'll only weaken your nerve. And that's what you've got to +keep hold of. You'll get her back all right, but you must be cool and +brave." + +"I'll be anything; I'll be like another person. I'll _do_ anything. No +one need be afraid I'll be weak or silly _now_." + +"Good--that's the way to talk. Now let me know a little about the way +the situation stands. It's odd I've seen nothing about this in the +papers--heard nothing. Your family must be active in some direction. +What are they doing?" + +A sudden color burnt in her wasted cheeks. + +"They suspect my husband. They think he did it--to--to--get square. We'd +quarreled--separated--and he'd made threats." + +"Ah, yes, yes, I see--kidnaped his own child, and they're keeping it +quiet. I understand perfectly. But _you_ didn't believe this?" + +She shook her head and bit on her underlip to control its trembling. + +"No--I couldn't, though I tried to. I knew he wouldn't have done +it--it's not--it's not--like him. And then while I was thinking the +letter came, and I knew, no matter what they thought, no matter what the +facts were, that _that_ was true." + +"Um," Larkin, his mouth compressed, nodded in understanding. "You would +know better than any one else. In these matters instinct is one of the +most important factors." He was silent for a moment, then looked at her, +a glance of piercing question. "Do I understand that you are willing to +enter into these negotiations?" + +"Willing!" she cried. "Why should I be here if I wasn't willing?" + +"Yes, yes, exactly, but let us understand one another. What I mean is +are you willing--realizing what they are--to deal with them on their own +terms? In short, pay them what they ask and let them go?" + +"Of course." She almost cried it out in her effort to make him +comprehend her position. "_That's_ what I want to do; that's why I +haven't told any of my own people and won't. I'd have gone straight to +my mother with this but I knew she wouldn't agree to it, she'd get the +police, want to fight them and bring them to justice." + +"Could you be relied on to maintain the secrecy necessary?" + +"I can be relied on for anything. Oh, Mr. Larkin, if you knew what I +feel you wouldn't waste time asking these questions." + +He answered very gently: + +"Mrs. Price, I appreciate your feelings to the full, but this is a +hazardous undertaking. You don't want to rush into it without realizing +what it means. There is the question of money for example--the ransom. +Your family is known for its wealth. You can be pretty certain that the +parties you're dealing with will hold the child for a large sum." + +Suzanne clasped her hands on her breast and the tears, brimming in her +eyes, spilled over, falling in a trickle down her cheeks. + +"Oh, what's money!" she wailed. "I'd give all the money I have, I've +ever had, I ever thought of having, to get my baby back." + +Larkin was moved. He looked away from that pitiful, quivering face and +his voice showed a slight huskiness as he answered: + +"Well, that's all right, Mrs. Price--and don't take it so hard, don't +let your fears get the upper hand. There's no harm can come to her; it's +to their interest to take care of her. If we do our part cleverly, +follow their instructions and keep our heads, you'll have her back in no +time." He stopped, arrested by a sudden thought. "I say 'we,' but maybe +I'm presupposing too much. Was it your intention to ask for my +assistance?" + +She dashed her tears away and leaned forward in eager urgence: + +"Of course--that's why I came. And you will give it--you will? The +letter says it has to be some one having no ties or interests with the +family--some one I could trust. I couldn't think of any one at first, +and then when I remembered you it was like an inspiration. Oh, you must +do it--I'll pay you anything if you will." + +Larkin's face satisfied her; she dropped back with a moan of relief. + +"I'll undertake it willingly--not only to give you any help I can, but +because it will be a good thing for me. Don't be shocked at my plain +speaking, but I want to be frank and straight with you. I'm not +referring to pay--we can arrange about that later--it's work done for +the Janney family, successful work. And with your cooeperation, Mrs. +Price, this is going to be successful. Now let's get to business." He +picked up the letter and glanced over it. "Headed 'Clansmen' and signed +'S. O. S.' I'll copy it, insert my name and address, and have it in +to-morrow's _Daily Record_. Then we'll see what happens." + +He smiled at her, reassuring and kindly. There was no response in her +tragic face. + +"It may be days before they answer," she murmured. + +But he was determined to uphold her fainting spirit. + +"I think not. They want to end this thing as quickly as they can--get +their loot and go. You've got to remember that their position is +terribly dangerous and at the first sign from us they'll get busy." + +She rose, took the letter and put it in her purse: + +"I hope to Heaven you're right. It's so awful to wait." + +"I don't think you'll have to. They'll see our answer to-morrow morning +and I'll expect a move from them by that evening or the next day. If +they communicate with me, I'll let you know at once, and if you hear, do +the same by me. It's going to be all right. Keep up your courage and +remember--not a word or a sign to any one." + +"Oh, I know," she said, drawing down her veil with limp hands, "you +needn't be afraid I'll spoil it. You thought me a fool, perhaps, when I +first consulted you, and I _was_, bothering about things that didn't +matter--jewels! There isn't one of us that hasn't forgotten all about +them now. Good-by. No, don't come out with me. I have a taxi waiting." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII--SUZANNE FINDS A FRIEND + + +On Monday evening Ferguson heard from Molly of the scene in the Whitney +office. He was incredulous and enraged, refusing to accept what she +insisted were irrefutable proofs of Esther's guilt. + +"What do I care about your 'phone messages and your suppositions!" he +had almost shouted at her. "What do I care about what you _think_. You +say she didn't answer the charges--she did, she denied them. That's +enough for me." + +There was no use arguing with him, he was beyond reason. She lapsed into +silence, letting him rage on, seething in his wrath at the Janneys, the +Whitneys, herself. When he tried to find out where Esther was, she was +obdurate--_that_ she couldn't tell him. All the satisfaction he got was +that Miss Maitland was not under arrest, that she was "put away +somewhere" and had agreed to the arrangement. He left, too angry for +good-nights, with a last scattering of maledictions, leaping down the +steps and swinging off across the garden. + +The next morning he telephoned in to the St. Boniface Hotel and heard +that the Janney party were out. Then he tried the Whitney office, got +George on the wire, and was told brusquely that Miss Maitland's +whereabouts could not be divulged to any one. He spent the rest of the +day in a state of morose disquiet, denying himself to visitors, short +and surly with his servants. Willitts was solicitous, inquired after his +health and was told to go to the devil. In the kitchen quarters they +talked about his queer behavior; the butler was afraid he'd had "a touch +of sun." + +Wednesday wore through to the early afternoon and his inaction became +unendurable. He decided to go into town, look up the Janneys and force +them to tell him where Esther was. He laid upon his spirit a cautioning +charge of self-control; he must keep his head and his temper, use +strategy before coercion. He had no idea of what he intended doing when +he did find her, but the idea of getting to her, seeing her, championing +her, transformed his moody restlessness into a savage energy. His +servants flew before his commands; in the garage the chauffeur muttered +angrily as orders to hurry were shouted at him from the drive. + +Tuesday had been a day of strain for the Janneys. According to the +telephone message, that night Chapman was to move the child from the +city. He had been under a close surveillance for the two preceding days, +and every depot and ferry housed watching detectives. Hope ran high +until after midnight when reports and 'phone messages came dropping in +upon the group congregated in the library of the Whitney house. No child +resembling Bebita had left the city at any of the guarded points. +Chapman had been in his office all day, had dined at a hotel and +afterward had gone to his rooms and remained there. The plan of moving +her had either been abandoned or had been intrusted to unknown parties +who had taken her by motor through the city's northern end. + +On Wednesday morning a consultation had been held at the Whitney office. +This had been stormy, developing the first disagreements in what had +been a unity of opinion. Mr. Janney was for going to Chapman and +demanding the child and was seconded by the elder Whitney. Mrs. Janney +was in opposition. She had no fear for Bebita's welfare--Chapman could +be trusted to care for her--and maintained that a direct appeal to him +would be an admission of weakness and place them at his mercy. In her +opinion he would threaten exposure--he was shameless--or make an offer +of a financial settlement. George agreed with her; from the start he had +thought Chapman was actuated less by a desire for vengeance than a hope +of gain. Mrs. Janney, thus backed up, became adamant. She would have no +dealings with him, would run him to earth, and when he was caught, crush +and ruin him. + +Suzanne had listened to it all very silent and taking neither side. Her +hunted air was set down to mental strain and she was allowed to remain +an unconsulted spectator, treated by everybody with subdued gentleness. +Back in the hotel, Mrs. Janney had suggested a doctor, but her querulous +pleadings to be let alone had conquered, and the old people had gone for +their afternoon drive, leaving her in the curtained quietness of the +sitting room. + +The door was hardly shut on them when she drew out of her belt a letter. +She had found it in her room on her return from the office and had read +it there before lunch. It was a prompter answer than she had dared to +hope for. + + "Mrs. Suzanne Price, + + "_Dear Madam_: + + "In answer to your ad. we would say that we are willing to deal + through the agent you name. We take your word for it that he is + to be trusted, that both you and he understand any attempt to + betray us will be visited on your child. + + "_Remember Charley Ross!_ + + "The sum necessary for her release will be thirty thousand + dollars. On payment of this we will deliver her over at a time + and place to be specified later. If you agree to our terms + insert following ad. in the _Daily Record_. 'John--O. K. See you + later. Mary.' + + "(Signed) _Clansmen_." + +On the second perusal of this ominous document Suzanne felt the +strangling rush of dread, the breathless contraction of the heart, that +had seized her when she first read it. Horrors had piled on horrors--as +she had risen to each new step of her progress up this Via Dolorosa, +another more fearful and unsurmountable had faced her. When she had +spoken to Larkin of the money she had never thought of it, how much it +might be, how she was to get it. Now, with a stunning impact, she was +brought against the appalling fact that she had none of her own and did +not dare ask her mother for any. + +There was no use in lies; she had lied too much and too diversely to be +believed. She would have to tell what it was for, and she knew the mood +in which her mother would meet the demand. Money would be +forthcoming--any amount--but Mrs. Janney, with her iron nerve and her +implacable spirit, would never consent to a tame submission. Suzanne +knew that her fortune and her energies would be spent in an effort to +apprehend the criminals, and Suzanne had not the courage to take a +chance. All she wanted was Bebita, back in her arms again, the fiends +who had taken her could go free. + +She sat down, pushing the damp hair from her forehead and trying to +think. One fact stood out in the midst of her blind, confused suffering. +She could not go to Larkin till she had the thirty thousand dollars. +Every moment she sat there was a moment lost, a moment added to Bebita's +term of imprisonment. She stared about the room, the gleam of her +shifting eyes, the rise and fall of her breast, the only movements in +her stone-still figure. + +Suddenly, piercing her tense preoccupation with a buzzing note, came the +sound of the telephone. It made her jump, then mechanically, hardly +conscious of her action, she rose to answer it. A woman's voice, +languidly nasal, came along the wire: + +"Mr. Richard Ferguson is calling." + +"Send him up," she gasped and fumbled back the receiver with a shaking +hand. With the other she steadied herself against the wall; the room had +swung for a moment, blurred before her vision. She closed her eyes and +breathed out her relief in a moaning exhalation. It was like an answer +to prayer, like the finger of God. + +Of course Dick was the person--Dick who could always be trusted, who +could always understand. He would give it and say nothing; she could +make him. He was not like the others--he would sympathize, would agree +with her, in trouble he was a rock to cling to. A broken series of +answers to unput questions coursed through her head; she could go to +Larkin now--she needn't tell him how she'd got it, he thought she was +rich--after it was all over her mother would pay Dick back--in a few +days she'd have Bebita, the kidnapers would have made their escape--and +it would be all right, all right, all right! + +Ferguson had come up, grim-visaged, steeled for battle, but when he saw +her his fighting spirit died. There was nothing left of her but a +blighted shadow, the cloud of golden hair crowning in gay mockery her +drawn and haggard face. Before he could speak she made a clutch at his +arm, drawing him into the room, babbling a broken greeting about wanting +him, wanting his help. He put his hand on hers and felt it trembling; he +would not have been surprised if she had dropped unconscious at his +feet. + +"Lord, Suzanne, you don't want to take it this way," he soothed, guiding +her to the sofa. "You must get hold of yourself; you've been brooding +too much. Of course I'll help you--anything I can do--and we'll get her +back, it'll be only a few days." He didn't know what to say, he was so +sorry for her. + +She was past parleys and preliminaries, past coquetry and artifice. The +whole of her had resolved itself into one raw longing, and before they +were seated on the sofa, she had broken into her story. He didn't at +first believe her, thought grief had unsettled her brain, but when she +thrust the two letters into his hand all doubts left him. + +He read them slowly, word by word, then turned upon her a face so +charged and vitalized with a fierce interest that, had she been able to +see beyond the circle of her own pain, she would have wondered. If he +forgot to ask for Esther's hiding place it was because the larger matter +of her vindication had swept all else from his mind. The proofs of her +innocence were in his hands; he did not for a moment doubt their +genuineness. + +It was what he had thought from the first. + +His manner changed from that of the sympathizing friend to one of stern +authority. He shot questions at her, tabulating her answers, discarding +cumbering detail, seizing on the important fact and separating it from +the jumble of confused impressions and fancies that she poured out. A +few inquiries set Larkin's position clear before him. The money he +dismissed with a curt sentence; of course he would give it, she wasn't +to think of that any more. + +"Thank heaven you decided on me," he said. "I'll straighten this out for +you and I'll do it quick." + +She was ready to take fright at anything and his eagerness scared her. + +"But you'll not do anything they don't want? You'll not tell the police +or try to catch them?" + +He had seen from the start that she was dominated by terror, as the +kidnapers had intended she should be: and seeing this had recognized her +as a negligible factor. To keep her quiet, soothe her fears, and employ +her services just so far as they were helpful was what he had to do with +her. What he had to do without her was shaping itself in his mind. + +"You can rely on me. I won't make any breaks. And _you_ have to be +careful, not a word about me to this man Larkin. He must think the money +is yours." + +She assured him of her discretion and he felt he could trust her that +far. + +"Now listen," he said slowly and impressively as if he was speaking to a +child, "we've both got to go very charily. A good deal of the +threat-stuff in these letters is bluff, but also men who would undertake +an enterprise of this kind are pretty tough customers and we don't want +to take any risks. When I'm gone you drive over to Larkin's, tell him +you have the money for the ransom, and to put in the ad. As soon as +either you or he get an answer let me know. I'll be at Council Oaks; +I'll go back there now. It's probable you're watched and if they saw me +hanging about here they might think I was in the game and take fright. +Do you understand?" + +She nodded: + +"Yes, you've put some courage into me. I was ready to die when you came +in." + +"Well, that's over now. What you've got to do is to follow my +instructions, keep your nerve and have a little patience." + +He smiled down at her as she sat, a huddled heap of finery, on the edge +of the sofa. She tried to return the smile, a grimace of the lips that +did not touch her somber eyes. No man, least of all Dick Ferguson, could +have been angry with her. + +"She was crazy," he said to himself as he walked down the hall. "They +were all crazy and I guess they had enough to make them so. I'll get the +child back, and when I do, I'll make them bite the dust before my girl." + +Several people who knew him saw Dick Ferguson driving his black car down +Fifth Avenue late that afternoon. He saw none of them, steering his way +through the traffic, his eyes fixed on the vista in front. He stopped at +Delmonico's for an early dinner, telling the waiter to bring him +anything that was ready, then sat with frowning brows staring at his +plate. Here again were people who knew him and wondered at his gloomy +abstraction--not a bit like Ferguson, must have something on his mind. + +Night was falling as he crossed the Queensborough bridge, a smoldering +glow along the west glazing the surface of the river. When he left the +straggling outskirts of Brooklyn and reached the open country the dark +had come, deep and velvety, a few bright star points pricking through +the cope of the sky. He lowered his speed, his glance roving ahead to +the road and its edging grasses, startlingly clear under the radiance of +his lamps. + +Round him the country brooded in its rest, silence lying on the pale +surface of fields, on the black indistinctness of trees. Here and there +the lights of farms shone, caught and lost through shielding boughs, and +the clustered sparklings of villages. The air was heavy with scents, the +breath of clover knee-high in the grass, grain still giving off the +warmth of the afternoon sun, and the delicate sweetness of the wild +grape draped over the roadside trees. All this night loveliness in its +fragrant quietness, its rich and penetrating beauty, reminded him of +her. He looked up at the sky, and its calm and steadfast splendor came +to him with a new meaning. She was related to it all, in tune with the +eternal harmonies, part of everything that was stainless and noble and +pure. And he would show the world that she was, clear her of every spot, +place her where she would be as far from suspicion, as serenely above +the meanness of her accusers, as the stars in the crystal depths of the +sky. + +When he reached Council Oaks he had a vision of her, belonging there, a +piece of its life. He saw a future, when, coming back like this to its +friendly doors, she would be waiting on the balcony to greet him. There +was no one there now; the house was still, its lights shining across the +pebbled drive. Obsessed by his thoughts, he jumped out, and leaving the +car at the steps, entered. From the kitchen wing he could hear the +servants' voices raised in cheerful clamor. Crossing the hall, he had a +glimpse through the dining room door of the table, set and waiting for +him, two lamps flanking his place. He had no mind for food and went +upstairs, dreams still holding him. In his room he switched on the +lights and his vacant glance, sweeping the bureau, brought up on the box +with the crystal lid. + +In his mind the robbery had faded into a background of inconsequential +things. It had become a side issue, a thread in the tangled skein he had +pledged himself to unravel. When Molly had told him of the evidence +against Esther his interest had centered on the charge of kidnaping--the +monstrous and unbelievable charge of which she almost stood convicted. +Even now, as he looked at the box and remembered what he had hidden +there, it came to his memory not as another weapon to be used in her +defense, but as a souvenir of the moment when his present passion had +flamed into life. A picture rose of that night, the silver moon +spatterings, her hand, white in the white light, with the band on its +third finger. He opened the box to take it out--it was not there. + +He had seen it a few days before, was certain he had, shook up the +contents, then overturned the box, strewing the studs and pins on the +bureau. But it was fruitless--the band, crushed and flattened as he +remembered it, was gone. He muttered an angry phrase, its loss came as a +jar on the exaltation of his mood. Then a soft step on the staircase +caught his ear, and looking up he saw Willitts' head rise into view. The +man came down the passage and spoke with his customary quiet deference: + +"I saw the car outside, sir, and knew you'd come back. Would you like +dinner--the cook says she can have it ready in a minute?" + +"No," Ferguson's voice was short, "I dined in town. Look here, I've lost +something--" he pointed to the scattered jewelry--"I had a cigar band in +that box and it's gone. Did you see it?" + +Willitts looked at the box and shook his head: + +"No, sir. A cigar band, a thing made of paper?" There was the faintest +suggestion of surprise in his voice. + +"Yes, you must have seen it. It was there a few days ago, underneath all +that truck--I saw it myself." + +The man again shook his head and, moving to the bureau, began to shift +the toilet articles and look among them. + +"I'm afraid I didn't see it, sir, or if I did I didn't notice. Maybe +it's got strayed away somewhere." + +He continued his search, Ferguson watching him with moody irritation: + +"What the devil could have happened to it? I put it in there myself, put +it in that particular place for safekeeping." + +Willitts, feeling about the bureau with careful fingers, said: + +"Was it of any _value_, sir?" + +"Yes," Ferguson having little hope of finding it turned away and threw +himself into a chair, "it was of great value. I wouldn't have lost it +for anything. It was evidence--" he stopped, growling a smothered +"Damn." He had said enough; he didn't want the servants chattering. + +"I'm very sorry, sir, but it doesn't seem to be here. Perhaps the +chambermaid threw it away, thinking it had got in the box by mistake." + +"I daresay--it sounds likely. I wish the people in this house would let +my room alone, control their mad desire for neatness and leave things +where I put them. Have the car taken to the garage, I'm not coming down +again. If any one calls up I'm out. Good-night." + +"Good-night, sir," said Willitts, and softly withdrew. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII--MOLLY'S STORY + + +After that Monday night when he went off in a rage, Ferguson didn't show +up at Grasslands for several days and I had the place to myself and all +the time I wanted. Believe me, I wanted a lot and made use of it. While +the others were concentrating on the kidnaping--the big thing that had +absorbed all their interest--I went back to the job I was engaged for, +the robbery. And I went back with a fresh eye, the old idea cleared out +of my head by Mrs. Price's confession. + +She'd explained the light, the light by the safe at one-thirty. With +that out of the way, I could get busy on the cigar band. I was just +aching to do it, for, as I'd told Ferguson, it was an A1 starting point. +Given that, there's nothing more exciting in the world than tracking up +from it, following different leads, seeing if they'll dovetail, putting +bits together like a picture puzzle. + +So I started in and for two days collected data, ferreted into the +movements of every person on the place, gossiped round in the village, +picked up a bit here and a scrap there, and made notes at night in my +room. I broke down Dixon's dignity and had a long talk with him; I got +Ellen to show me how to knit a sweater and before I'd learnt had her +inside out. I spent two hours and broke my best scissors spoiling the +lock of the bookcase in my room and had Isaac up to try keys on it. When +I was done I knew the movements of everybody in the house on the night +of July seventh as if I'd personally conducted each one through that +important and exciting evening. + +It wasn't love of the work alone, or the feeling that I ought to earn my +salary, that pushed me on. There was something else--I wanted to clear +Esther Maitland. I wanted it bad. I kept thinking of her eyes looking at +me when I gave her the drink of water and it made me sort of sick. In my +thoughts I kept telling my husband about it, and I always tried to make +out I'd acted very smart and some way or other I knew he wouldn't think +so. It wasn't that I felt guilty--I'd done nothing but what I was hired +for--but there's a meanness about beating a person down, there's a +meanness about staring into their white, twisted face and saying, +"Ha--Ha--you're cornered and I did it!" You have to be awfully good +yourself to do that sort of thing. + +Thursday morning I'd got all I could and with my notes and my fountain +pen I went out on the side piazza by Miss Maitland's study; there was a +table there and it was quiet and secluded. So I fixed everything +convenient and set to work. Taking the cigar band as the central point I +built up from it something like this: + +It had been dropped by a man--so few women smoke cigars you could put +that down as certain. It had been dropped between half-past eight when +the storm stopped and half-past ten when Miss Maitland found it. The man +could not be Mr. Janney who had driven both ways, nor Dixon or Isaac who +had walked to the village by the road and come back the same route. It +couldn't have been Otto the chauffeur as he had stayed at Ferguson's +garage visiting there with Ferguson's men. The head gardener had gone to +the movies with the other Grasslands servants, and the under gardeners +had been in their own homes in the village as I had taken pains to find +out. Therefore it was no man living on the place at that time. + +But that it was some one who was familiar with the house and its +interior workings was proved by two facts:--that the dogs, heard to +start barking, had suddenly quieted down, and that a rose from Miss +Maitland's dress had been found inside the safe. + +An expert burglar could have got round all the rest, had a key to the +front door, worked out the combination--the house was virtually empty +for over two hours--it was known that the family and servants were out. +But the most expert burglar in the world couldn't have controlled those +dogs--Mrs. Price's Airdale was as savage to strangers as a wolf and had +a bark on it like a steam calliope. + +The rose figured as a proof this way: It had been put inside the safe to +throw suspicion on Miss Maitland, the thief was aware that she knew the +combination. This would argue that he was acquainted with the habits of +the household. All social secretaries are not given the leeway Miss +Maitland was; all social secretaries aren't given the combination of a +safe where two hundred thousand dollars' worth of jewels are kept. The +man knew she had it, and tried to fix the guilt on her. Where his plan +slipped up was Mrs. Price coming later, finding the rose, salting it +down in a piece of tissue paper, and, for some reason of her own, not +saying a word about it. + +How did he get the rose? As far as I could see there was just one way. +Esther Maitland had spent part of the afternoon of July the seventh +altering her evening dress. Ellen had pinned it up on her and she'd +taken the waist down to her study to sew on as her room was too hot. +When she'd gone upstairs again--it was Ellen who gave me all this--she'd +left part of the trimming on the desk. The next morning the parlor maid +had given it to Ellen--all cut and picked apart, some of the roses loose +in a cardboard box--to put in Miss Maitland's room. It had lain on the +desk all night and, in my opinion, the thief had either known it was +there or found it, taken the rose, and made his "plant" with it. + +Now one man who would be familiar to the dogs and might know Miss +Maitland's privileges and habits, was Chapman Price. But it wasn't he, +for at nine-thirty, the hour when the thief was busy, Mr. Price was +crossing the Queensborough bridge, headed for New York. And anyway, if +he hadn't been, you couldn't suspect him of trying to lay the blame on +the girl who was his partner. No--Chapman Price was wiped off the map +with all the rest of the Grasslands crowd. + +When I'd got this far I sat biting my pen handle and sizing it up. A +thief, professional, had taken the jewels. He was some one unknown, +having no connection with Mr. Price or Miss Maitland. The two crimes +that had nearly shaken the Janney family off its throne had been +committed by different parties. I was as sure of that as that the sun +would rise to-morrow. + +After dinner that evening I went out on the balcony and sat there, +turning it all over in my head, and looking at the woods, black-edged +and solid against the night sky. It was very still, not a breath, and +presently, off across the garden, I heard the gravel crunch under a +foot, a soft padding on the grass, and then a long, lean figure came +into the brightness that shot out across the drive from the hall behind +me--Ferguson. + +He dropped down on the top step, settled his back against one of the +roof posts, and took out a cigarette case. He was right where the light +shone on him, and I could see he had a serious, glum look which made me +think he still "had a mad on me" as they say on the east side. That +didn't trouble me; people getting mad when they've a reason to never +does, and he'd reason enough, poor dear. + +Puffing out a long shoot of smoke, he said: + +"I've come over to speak to you about that idea of mine--that cigar band +I told you about." + +"Oh," I answered, "you've got round to that, have you?" + +"I have, or perhaps you might say half way around." + +"Well, I'm the whole way. I've spent three days getting there." + +"I thought you'd beat me to it. What have you arrived at?" + +"The certainty that the man who dropped the band was the thief." + +"We're agreed at last. Have you gone far enough round to come to a +suspect?" + +"No, I'm stuck there." + +He blew out a ring, watched it float away into the darkness and said: + +"So am I. But I've a small, single compartment brain that can't +accommodate more than one idea at a time. And it's busy just now in +another direction. If you'll put that forty horse-power one of yours on +this we ought to get round the whole way." He glanced sideways at me, +his eyes full of meaning. "You'll find I can be a very grateful person." + +"Gratitude's a kind of pay I like." + +"Yes--it's stimulating and it can take more than one form." He flung +away the cigarette, leaned back against the post and said: "The worst of +it is that our main exhibit, the cigar band, is gone. I looked for it +last night and found it was lost." + +"Lost!" I sat up quick. He'd told me where he kept it and right off I +thought it was funny. "Gone out of that box you had it in?" + +"Yes. I wanted to see it when I came in--I'd been in town--and it wasn't +in the box." + +"Had it been there recently?" + +"Um--I can't tell just how recently--perhaps a week ago." + +"Did you ask about it?" + +"Yes, I asked Willitts. He said he hadn't seen it." + +"Didn't you tell me you kept studs and jewelry in that box?" + +"I did; that's what it's for. I don't see how he could have helped +seeing it. I daresay he did and, thinking it was of no use, threw it +away and then, when he saw I wanted it, got scared and lied." + +A thing like a zigzag of lightning went through me. It stabbed down from +my head to my feet, giving my heart a whack as it passed. My voice +sounded queer as I spoke: + +"He could have known, couldn't he, of that walk you and Miss Maitland +took, that walk when you found the band?" + +He had been looking, dreamy and indifferent, out into the darkness. Now +he turned to me, a little surprised, as if he was wondering at my +questions: + +"I suppose so. He knew all my crowd up there; they're forever running +back and forth from one place to the other. They know everything, and +they're the greatest gossips and snobs in the country. I've no doubt he +heard it talked threadbare--the boss walking home with Mrs. Janney's +secretary. Probably gave their social sensibilities a jolt." + +Something lifted me out of my chair, carried me across the balcony, +plunked me down beside him on a lower step. I craned up my head near to +his and I'll never forget the expression of his face, sort of blank, as +if he wasn't sure whether I'd gone crazy or was going to kiss him. + +"Some one who knew the family, some one who knew it was out that night, +some one who knew Miss Maitland had the combination, some one who could +have got a key to the front door, some one _the dogs were friendly +with_!" + +He was staring at me as if he was hypnotized--getting a gleam of it but +not the full light. I put my hands on his shoulders and gave them a +shake. + +"You simp, wake up. It's Willitts!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV--CARDS ON THE TABLE + + +In spite of Molly's excited certainty that Willitts was the thief, +Ferguson was not convinced. He met her impetuous demand for the valet's +arrest with a recommendation for a fuller knowledge of his activities on +the night of the robbery. Willitts had gone to the movies with the +Grasslands servants and if he had been with them the whole evening he +was as innocent as Dixon or Isaac. She had to agree and promised to do +nothing until she had satisfied herself that his movements tallied with +their findings. + +Ferguson had a restless night. There was matter on his mind to keep him +awake; he was fearful that Suzanne might make some false step. She was +at best a shifty, unstable creature, how much more so now strained to +the breaking point. He felt he ought to be in town where he could keep +her under his eye, and decided to motor in in the morning. Also he began +to think that Molly was probably right; she was shrewd and experienced, +knew more of such matters than he. He would go to the Whitney office and +put the Willitts' affair in their hands, then run up to the St. +Boniface, take a room, and have a look in at Suzanne. + +He left the house at nine-thirty, telling the butler he was called to +the city on business, and might be gone a day or two. At the Whitney +office he was informed that Mr. and Mrs. Janney were in consultation +with the heads of the firm, and, saying he would not disturb them, +waited in an outer room from whence he telephoned to Suzanne, telling +her he would be at the hotel later. When the Janneys had gone he was +ushered into the old man's office where he found the air still vibrating +with the clash of battle. A combined attack had been made on Mrs. Janney +who, under its pressure and the slow undermining of her confidence by a +week of failure, had given in and consented to a move on Price. It had +been planned for that afternoon, when he was to be summoned to the +office, charged with the kidnaping and commanded to render up the child. + +Whitney and his son listened to Ferguson's story of the cigar band with +unconcealed interest. George, however, was skeptical--it was ingenious +and plausible, showed Molly's fine Italian hand; but his mind had +accepted the theory of Esther's participation and was of the unelastic, +unmalleable kind. His father was obviously impressed by it, admitting +that his original conviction of the girl's guilt had been shaken. To +George's indignant rehearsal of the evidence, he accorded a series of +acquiescing nods, agreed that the facts were against him and maintained +his stand. He would see Willitts as soon as possible and put him through +a grilling examination. O'Malley could be sent to Council Oaks at once +to bring him in, and his business could be disposed of before they got +round to Price. As Ferguson rose to go George had the receiver of the +desk telephone down and was giving low-voiced instructions to O'Malley +to report immediately at the office. + +It was nearly one when the young man found himself on the street level. +There was no use going to the St. Boniface now as the family would be at +lunch and speech alone with Suzanne impossible. On the way uptown he +stopped at a restaurant, ordered food which he hardly touched, filling +out the time with cigarettes. By half-past two he was on the move again, +threading a slow way through the traffic, his eye lingering on the clock +faces that loomed at intervals along the Avenue. Suzanne had told him +that the old people always went for a drive after lunch and he scanned +the motors that passed him, hoping to see them. He was in no mood for +polite conversation--felt with the passing of the hours an increasing +tension, a gathering of his forces for a leap and a struggle. + +At the desk in the St. Boniface he heard that Mr. and Mrs. Janney had +just gone out, and waited while Mrs. Price's room was called up. There +was no response; Mrs. Price must be out too. The information made him +uneasy; she had told him she went nowhere except to Larkin's. More than +ever anxious to see her, he engaged a room and left the message that he +would be there and to be called up when she came in. The door shut on +him, his uneasiness increased; wondering what had taken her out, +wondering if she had done anything foolish, cursing the fate that had +placed so much in her feeble hands, perturbed and restless as a lion in +a cage. + +Suzanne had gone to Larkin's, called there by a telephone message. It +had come almost on the heels of her parents' departure and was brief--a +request to come to him as soon as she could. She had scrambled into her +street clothes, and, shaking in every limb, slipped out of the hotel's +side door and sped across town in a taxi to hear how Bebita was to be +found. + +She was hardly inside the door, her veil lifted from a face as pale as +Caesar's ghost, when Larkin answered her look of agonized question: + +"Yes, the letter's come--what we expect, very clear and explicit. It was +sent to me this time--came on the two o'clock delivery." + +He turned to the desk and took up a folded paper. Before he could offer +it to her, she had leaned forward and snatched it out of his hand. +Instantly her eyes were riveted on the lines: + + "Mr. Horace Larkin, + + "_Dear Sir_: + + "In answer to the ad. in the _Daily Record_, we are dealing + through you as the agent named by Mrs. Price. We do this as we + realize that a lady of Mrs. Price's type and experience would be + unable to handle alone so important a matter. Before we enter + into details we must again repeat our warnings--not only the + return of the child but her life is dependent on the actions of + her mother and yourself. If you are wise to this and follow our + instructions Bebita will be restored to her family on Saturday + night. + + "The plan of procedure must be as follows: At eight-thirty a + roadster, containing only the driver and marked by a + handkerchief fastened to the windshield, must leave the village + of North Cresson by the Cresson turnpike, at a rate of speed not + exceeding fifteen miles an hour. It must proceed eastward along + the pike for a distance of ten miles. Somewhere during this run + a car will pass it and from its tonneau flash an electric + lantern twice. Follow this car. Make no attempt to hail or to + overtake it. It will turn from the main road and proceed for + some distance. When it stops the driver of the roadster must + alight, place the money at a spot indicated, and submit, without + parley, to being bound and gagged. When this is done the child + will be left beside him. If agreed to insert following personal + in _The Daily Record_ of Saturday morning: 'James, meet you at + the time and place specified. Tom.' + + "(Signed) _Clansmen_." + +The letter fluttered to the desk and Suzanne sank into a chair. Larkin +looked at her; his glance showed some anxiety but his voice was hearty +and encouraging: + +"Well, you agree, of course?" + +She nodded, swallowing on a throat too dry for speech. + +He picked up the letter and ran a frowning eye over it: + +"It simply confirms what I thought--old hands. It's about as secure as +such a thing could be. I don't see a loose end." + +She made no answer and he went on still studying the paper: + +"I'm not familiar with this country, but they wouldn't have picked it +out unless it offered every chance of escape." + +"Escape!" she breathed. "They've _got_ to escape." + +It made him smile, the eye he turned on her showed a quizzical +amusement: + +"You're almost talking like an accomplice, Mrs. Price." But he quickly +grew grave as he met her tragic glance. "Pardon me, I shouldn't have +said that, but the fact is, with the climax in sight, I'm a bit on edge +myself." Then with a brusque change of tone, "Do you know this section +of Long Island?" + +"Yes, well--I've driven over it often." + +"Am I right in thinking there are numbers of roads leading from the +Cresson Turnpike?" + +"Lots of them, to the Sound and inland." + +"Umph!" he threw the letter on the desk and sat down, "I don't think you +need worry about their getting away. Now we must settle this up and then +I'll go out and have the ad inserted. We've got to hustle--they've only +given us a little over twenty-four hours." + +She looked dazedly at him and murmured: + +"What have we got to do?" + +"Why--" he was very gentle as to a stupid and bewildered child--"we have +to arrange about this car--our car, the one that gets the signal." + +"We can hire it, can't we?" + +"Well, we could hire the car, but the driver--we can't very well hire +him. He must be some one upon whom we can rely." + +She stared at him, her eyes dilating: + +"Yes, yes, of course. I'd forgotten that." + +"Is there any one you can suggest--any one that you _know_ you could +trust and who would be willing to undertake it?" + +"Yes," the word came with a sudden decision. "I know some one." Larkin +eyed her sharply. She looked more alive than she had done since her +entrance, seemed to be vitalized into a roused, responsive intelligence. +"I know exactly the person." + +"Entirely trustworthy?" + +"Absolutely. Mr. Ferguson--Dick Ferguson." + +"Oh, yes, Ferguson of Council Oaks." He mused a moment under her hungry +scrutiny. "Do you think he'd be willing to--er--agree to their demands +as you have?" + +"Yes, he'd do it to help me. He's an old friend; I know him through and +through. He'd do it if I asked him." + +The detective was silent for a moment, then said: + +"Well, we have to have some one and if you're willing to vouch for him +I'll abide by what you say. Before you came in I was thinking of +offering to do it myself. But there are reasons against that. I don't +mind helping you this way--quietly, on the side--but to be an actual +participant in the final deal, handle the money, be more or less +responsible for the person of the child--I'd rather not--I'd better not. +And anyway I think I can be more useful as an observer, an unsuspected +spectator who may see something worth while." + +She gave a stifled scream and caught at his hand, resting on the edge of +the desk: + +"No, no, Mr. Larkin, _please_, I beg of you. You're not going to try and +catch them." + +Her fingers gripped like talons; he laid his free hand over them, +soothingly patting them: + +"Now, now, Mrs. Price, please have confidence in me. Am I likely, at +this stage of the game, to do anything to queer it?" + +She did not reply, her eyes shifting from his, her teeth set tight on +her quivering underlip. He waited a moment and then spoke with a new +note, dominating, authoritative, as one in command: + +"My dear lady, you've got to get hold of yourself. I can't go on with +this if you don't trust me. We're launched on an enterprise by no means +easy and if we don't pull together we'll fail, that's all." + +That steadied her. She dropped his hand and broke into tremulous +protestations: + +"I do, I do, Mr. Larkin. It's only that I'm so terribly afraid, so upset +and desperate. Of course I trust you. Would I be here, day after day, if +I didn't?" + +He was mollified, dropped back with the crisp, alert manner of the +detective. + +"All right, we'll let it go at that. Now as to Ferguson--you'll have to +get word to him at once. Is he in the country?" + +"No--he's here. I had a telephone from him this morning to say he was in +town and would be at the hotel later in the day. He's probably there +now, waiting for me." + +"Um!" Larkin considered for a moment. "That's lucky. There's no time to +waste. Get his consent and then 'phone me here. Just a word. And you +understand he'll have to know the circumstances; he'll have to be wise +to everything if he's to play his part." + +Suzanne had lied so long and so variously that she did it with a natural +ease. No one, having seen her as Larkin had, would have guessed the +knowledge she hid. Her air of innocently comprehending his charge was a +triumph of duplicity. + +"Of course, I know, I understand. It'll be a dreadful surprise to him +but he'll see it as I do. And he'll do what I ask--I'm as certain of +that as I am of his secrecy." + +She would have to have the letter to show him, and Larkin, after a last, +careful perusal of it, handed it to her. Then she went, cutting off his +heartening words of farewell, making her way out in a quick, noiseless +rush. At the desk in the hotel she learned that Ferguson was there, +asked to have him apprised of her return and sent at once to her sitting +room. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV--MOLLY'S STORY + + +The morning after that talk with Ferguson I rose up "loaded for bar." At +breakfast I led Dixon round to the old subject--we were good friends now +and he'd drop his professional manner when we were alone and talk like a +human being. Of course he remembered everything, and opened up as fluent +as a gramophone. Willitts hadn't found them at the movies till nearly +ten--been delayed on his way in from Cedar Brook, his landlady's little +girl had been took bad with croup and he'd gone for the doctor--Dr. +Bernard, who was off on a side road half way between Cedar Brook and +Berkeley. + +That ought to have been enough for me, but having started I thought I'd +clear it all up, so I borrowed a bike off Ellen and set out on the +double quick for Dr. Bernard's. I saw Mrs. Bernard and heard all I +wanted. Willitts had been there on the night of July seventh, came on a +bicycle, saw the doctor and gave his message about the sick child. She +thought it was somewhere between eight and half-past--the storm was just +stopping. I lit out for home; I'd got it all now. He'd gone straight +from the doctor's to Grasslands, taken the jewels, and made a short cut +back to the main road through the woods to where he'd hidden his wheel. + +When you get this far on a case there comes over you a sort of terror +that you may slip up. You have it all in your hand, your fingers are +stretched to lay hold on the criminal, and an awful fear takes +possession of you that right on the threshold of success you may lose. +The cup and the lip--that's the idea. + +This seized me on the ride back to Grasslands. Why was the cigar band +gone if he wasn't wise to what it meant? It was a powerful hot day, +smothering on the wood roads, but the way I made that machine shoot +you'd suppose it was a hard frost and I was peddling to get up my +circulation. He might be gone already, taken fright and skipped! I had a +vision of telling the Chief and what he'd say, and the perspiration came +out on me like the beads on a mint julep glass. I'd go to town right +now--there was an express at eleven--but before I left I'd call up +Council Oaks and find out if he was there. + +As I ran up the piazza steps the hall clock chimed out a single note, +half-past ten--I had plenty of time. I called to Dixon to order the +motor--I was going to town--whisked into the telephone closet, and made +the connection. The voice that answered lifted me up out of the +depths--for I guessed it was Willitts by the dialect, English, with the +"H's" hanging on sort of loose and wobbly. To make sure I asked, and it +answered, smooth as a summer sea--yes, I was talking to Mr. Ferguson's +valet, Willitts. Mr. Ferguson was not at 'ome, 'ed gone to the city to +be away a day or two. Was there any message? There wasn't--you could bet +on that--and I eased off in a high-class society drawl. + +With a deep breath I dropped back to normal, smoothed my feathers, +powdered my nose, and when the motor came round looked like a shy little +nursery governess, snitching a day off in town. + +It was at the station that something happened which ended my peaceful +state and gave me an experience I'll remember as long as I live. + +Just as I was stepping on the train I took a glance back along the +platform and there, close behind me, dressed as neat as a tailor's +dummy, was Willitts with a bag in his hand. He didn't notice me, and if +he had he wouldn't have known me, for I'd only passed him once in the +village and then he wasn't looking my way. I mounted up the steps and +went into the car. From the tail of my eye I saw him in the doorway and +when he'd taken the seat in front of me, I dropped against the back of +mine, saying to myself: "Hully Gee, he's _going_!" + +All the way into town, I sat with my eyes on his hat, thinking what I'd +better do. There was one thing certain--that stood out like the writing +on the wall--I mustn't let him out of my sight. Where he went I'd have +to go, tight as a barnacle I'd have to stick to that desperado. I tried +to think how I could get a message to the Whitneys' office, but I didn't +see how I was going to find the time or the opportunity. If the worst +came to the worst I could call a cop, but if I knew anything of men like +Willitts, he'd keep a watch out like a warship for periscopes, for +anything that wore brass buttons and connected with the law. + +The "Penn" station was as hot as a Turkish bath and through it you can +imagine me, trying to trip light and airy, and keeping both eyes as +tight as steel rivets on that man's back. I've never shadowed +anybody--it's not been included in my college course--all I knew was I +mustn't lose him and I mustn't get him suspicious, and if you're making +away with a fortune in a handbag, suspicion ought to be your natural +state. So I trailed after him as far in the rear as I dared, sometimes, +a gang rushing for a train coming in between us, sometimes the space +clear with him hurrying to the exit and me sort of loitering and gawking +up at the maps on the ceiling. + +Out in the street he turned and shot a glance like a searchlight round +behind him. It swept over me and took no notice, which was considerable +of an encouragement. If it was warm in the station, it was sizzling +outside. Men were carrying their coats on their arms, some of them using +palm leaf fans, careful ones keeping to the edge of shade along the +house fronts. But Willitts didn't mind the sun; I guess when you're +making off with a fortune you're indifferent to temperature--it's +another proof of mind over matter. + +After walking down Seventh Avenue for a few minutes he turned to the +left and struck across a side street to Sixth. Half way down the block +he went into a men's furnishing store, and sauntering slow past the +window, I saw him looking at collars. There was a stationer's just +beyond and I cast anchor there, by a counter near the door set out with +magazines. A sales girl lounged up, chewing her gum like the heat had +made her languid, and looking interested over my clothes. + +"Awful warm, ain't it?" she said, and I answered, picking up a magazine: + +"It's something fierce. I'll take this one." + +"You got that one already," says she, pointing to the magazine I'd +bought at Berkeley and was still clinging to. "Don't you wanna try +something new?" + +"Oh--it's the heat; the sun gets my head woozy." I picked out another +and gave her a dollar, the smallest change I had. As she was walking to +the cash register, Willitts passed the door and I was out on the sill, +moving cautious to the sidewalk. + +"Say," comes the girl's voice from behind me, "what are you doin'? You +ain't got your change yet. You'd oughtn't to be let out in this sun." + +"Keep it," I called back. "I was a working girl once myself." + +At the corner of Fifth Avenue he stopped and, a bus coming along, he +haled it. "Lord," thought I, "if he gets into that without me I'll have +to run after it and they'll arrest me for a lunatic." Being quite a ways +behind, I had to make a dash for it, waving my magazine and hollering +like the rubes from the country. He was up on the roof, and the bus was +moving when I lit on the step, and was hauled in friendly by the +conductor. + +We jolted downtown, me sitting sideways in a rear seat watching the +stairs for Willitts' legs. It wasn't until we were below Twenty-third +Street that they came into view, stepping lightly down. The bus heaved +up against the curb and he swung off, me behind him. I was terribly +scared that he'd begin to suspect me, and all I could think of that +would look natural was to roll my eyes flirtatious at the conductor, who +seemed to like it so much I was afraid he wouldn't let me off. + +When I got down on the pavement Willitts was walking along the cross +street back toward Sixth Avenue. Midway down the block, he stopped and +disappeared through a doorway. I was quite a piece behind him and when I +saw him fade out of sight I forgot everything and ran. At the door I +came up short, panting and purple in the face--the place was a +restaurant. It had a large plate glass window with white letters on it +and a man making pancakes where he'd show plainest. Inside I could see +Willitts seating himself at a littered up table. + +"Lunch!" I said to myself. "He's going to eat, the cool devil. Now's my +chance!" + +Almost directly opposite was a drug store with telephone booths close to +the window. I could get a message to the office, and if I caught the +chief or Mr. George, I could have a man up in twenty minutes. If they +weren't there I'd try headquarters, but I was afraid of that--they'd ask +questions, waste time, want to know who I was and what it was all about. +If only Willitts was hungry, if he'd only eat enough to last till I got +some one, if he'd only order pancakes. As I waited for the connection I +found myself sort of praying "Pancakes--make him order pancakes. They're +made in the window and they take quite a while. _Please_ make him eat +pancakes!" + +Right in the midst of my prayer came the voice of Miss Quinn, the +switchboard girl in the office, and for me it was: + +"Quick, Miss Quinn--it's Mrs. Babbitts. Is Mr. Whitney or Mr. George +there? Give 'em to me--on the jump--if they are." + +She didn't waste a word, and in a minute Mr. George's voice came sharp: + +"Hello, who is it?" + +"Molly, Mr. George. And I've got Willitts--and I've got enough on him to +know he's the thief--I can't tell you now but--" + +He cut in with: + +"I know, I know, Ferguson's told us. O'Malley's here now going to +Council Oaks for him." + +I almost screamed: + +"Send him _here_. Willitts is off; he's left and I've trailed him. I'm +waiting at the door and he's inside." + +"Inside _what_, where the devil are you?" + +I gave him the directions and then: + +"It's a restaurant; he's eating. But it may only be a doughnut and a +glass of milk. If it's pancakes we're safe, but a man lighting out with +a fortune in a handbag don't generally want anything so filling. I'll +follow him until I drop, but I don't want to travel round with a jewel +thief unless I have to." + +"I'll send O'Malley now. You stay right there and if Willitts finishes +before he comes, hold him any way you can. Get a cop. I'll 'phone to +headquarters for a warrant. So long." + +Of course I thought of the cop, but spying out from the doorway, there +wasn't one in sight. And by this time I was considerably worked up, +afraid to move in any direction, afraid to take my eyes from the +restaurant entrance. I pulled up one of the chairs they have for people +getting prescriptions filled, and sat down by the doorway, watching the +place opposite, like a cat camped in front of a mouse hole. + +Ten minutes had passed. If the traffic wasn't too thick on Broadway +O'Malley could make it in less than twenty. But the traffic _was_ +thick--it was the middle of the day; if he was stalled or had to make a +detour it might run toward half an hour. He might be--The door of the +restaurant opened and out crept the mouse. + +The cat rose up, soft and stealthy, with her claws ready. As I crossed +the street I sent a look both ways--not a taxi in sight, not a cop, only +the whole thoroughfare tangled up with drays and delivery wagons. There +was nothing for it but to stop him, first put out the velvet paw and +then shoot the claws. Jumping quick on the curb I came up alongside of +him, a smile on my face that felt like the grin you get when you make a +joke that no one sees. + +"Why, _hullo_," I said, going at him with my hand out, "I couldn't at +first believe it--but it _is_ you." + +He drew up quick, all on the alert, looking at me with hard, ferret +eyes. + +"Who are you?" he said, fierce and forbidding. "What do you want?" + +I put my head sideways, and tried to take the curse off the smile, +changing it to a sort of trembly sweetness. + +"Why, _don't_ you know me? I can't be changed that bad. It's Rosie." + +I didn't know what his Christian name was and anyway, if I had it +wouldn't have helped--a man like Willitts changes his name as often as +he does his address. But I had to call him something, so when I saw the +anger rising in his eyes, I said, all broken and tender like the +deserted wife in the last act: + +"Dearie, don't pretend you don't remember me--it's Rosie from the old +country." + +He began to look savage, also alarmed: + +"I don't know what you're talking about. I never saw you before in my +life." + +He made a movement to pass on, but I drew up close, wiped off the smile, +and put on the look of true love that won't let go. + +"Oh, dearie, don't say that. Haven't I worn the soles off my shoes +hunting for you ever since, ever since--" Gee, I didn't know how to +finish it, then it came in a flash. I moaned out, "ever since we +parted." + +"Look 'ere, young woman," he said, low, with a face on him like a meat +ax, "this doesn't go with me. Now get out; get off or I'll 'ave you run +in." + +I knew he wouldn't do _that_; he'd hand over the jewels first. I raised +up my voice in a wail and said: + +"Oh, dearie, you're faking; I won't believe it. You can't have +forgot--back in the old country, me and you." + +A messenger boy, slouching by, heard me and drew up, hopeful of some +fun. Willitts saw him and began to look like murder would be added to +his other offenses. I gave a glance up the street--still only drays and +wagons, not a taxi in sight. Fatima with Sister Anne reporting from the +tower, had nothing over me for watchful waiting. + +"It's Rosie," I whined, "it's your own little Rosie. If I don't look the +same it's the suffering you've caused me and Gawd knows it." + +I laid my hand on his arm. With a movement of fury he shook it off and +began to back away from me. Another boy had come up against the +messenger and lodged there like a leaf in a stream, caught in an eddy. I +heard him say, "What's on?" and the other answered: + +"Don't know but I guess it's the movies." + +And they both looked round for the camera man. + +I don't think Willitts heard them. His back was that way and his face to +me, hard as iron and savage as a hungry wolf's. He tried to speak low +and soothing: + +"Now 'old your tongue, don't make such a fuss. I'll give you something +and you go off quiet and respectable." His hand felt in his pocket and I +raised a loud, tearful howl: + +"_Money!_ Is it money you're offering? What's money to me whose heart +you've broken?" + +"I don't see no camera man," came the messenger boy's voice. + +"Aw, he's in one of them wagons," said the other. "I've seen 'em in +wagons." + +The perspiration was on Willitts' forehead in beads, he was whitening +round the mouth. Putting his face close down to mine he breathed out +through his teeth: + +"What in 'ell do you want?" + +"_You!_" I cried and out of the tail of my eye I saw a taxi shoot round +the corner from Fifth Avenue. Willitts drew away from me, shrunk +together for a race. I saw it and I knew even now, with O'Malley +plunging through the traffic, it might be too late. Embracing is not my +strong suit, no man but my lawful husband ever felt my arms about him. +But duty's a strong word with me and then my sporting blood was up. So +with my teeth set, I just made a lunge at that crook and clasped him +like an octopus. + +I didn't know a man was so much stronger than a woman. Willitts wasn't +much taller than I and he was a thin little shrimp, but believe me, he +was as tough as leather and as slippery as an eel. I could see the two +boys, delighted, drinking it in, and a dray man in a jumper, drop a +crate and come up on the run, bawling: "Say, you feller, let the lady +alone," The boys chorused out: "Aw, keep out--it's the movies!" Willitts +must have heard too, and I guess he saw his chance, for he suddenly +squirmed one arm loose, and whang! came a blow on the side of my head. +It might have seemed part of the play but he did it too hard--calculated +wrong in his excitement. I let go, seeing everything--the houses, the +sky, the crowd that seemed to start up out of the pavements--whirling +round and shot over with zigzags. There was a roaring noise in my ears +and all about, and I dropped over into somebody's arms, things getting +swimmy and dark. + +When I came out of it I was sitting on a packing box with a man fanning +me and O'Malley, red as a tomato and Willitts the color of ashes in the +middle of a mob. There was a terrible hubbub, people jamming together, +the wagons stopped and the drivers yelling to know what was up, heads +out of every window, and then two policemen, fighting their way through. +I felt queer, sickish, and as if the muscles of my face were all slack +so my mouth wouldn't stay shut. But the gentleman fanning me acted awful +kind and a clerk came out of a store with ice water and a wet +handkerchief that he patted soft on the side of my head. + +I could see O'Malley and the policeman (they'd come from headquarters I +heard afterward) go off into a vestibule with Willitts and the crowd +that couldn't get a look-in came squeezing round me, heads peering up +over heads. They'd got the idea that Willitts was my husband, seeming to +think only a lawful spouse would dare to hit a woman before witnesses in +the public street. The guys in the front were explaining it to the guys +in the back and calling Willitts names I couldn't put down in these +refined pages. + +It got me laughing, especially when an old Jew who had been sizing me up +like a piece of goods nodded slow and solemn and said: "And she ain'd zo +bad lookin' neither." I burst right out at that and the man with the fan +waved his arms at them, shouting: + +"Give way there--back--back! She wants air--she's hysterical. She's gone +through more than she can bear." + +Gee, how I laughed! + +Presently in the center of a surging mass we crowded our way to the +taxi, the policemen going in front and hitting round light with their +clubs. O'Malley with Willitts handcuffed to him got in the back seat, me +opposite, with my hat off, holding the handkerchief against my head. As +we pulled out I looked back over the sea of faces and caught the eye of +one of the policemen. He straightened up, very serious and dignified, +and saluted. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI--THE COUNTER PLOT + + +Ferguson's knock on Suzanne's door was promptly answered by the lady +herself, still in her hat and wrap. She clutched at him as she had done +when he came to her in her dark hour, drawing him into the room and +gasping her news. He was in no mood to follow her ramblings and, as soon +as she spoke of a letter, interrupted her with a brusque demand for it. +After he had mastered its contents he told her to 'phone at once to +Larkin that it was all right, and while she delivered the message, stood +by studying the paper. When she turned back to him he laid his hands on +her shoulders and looked into her eyes. The touch that once would have +sent the blood burning to her cheeks called up no responsive thrill now: + +"This lets you out--it's the end of your responsibility. Your part now +is to be quiet and wait. To-morrow night you'll have Bebita back. Just +nail that up in your mind and keep your eyes on it." + +"Back where? Will you bring her here?" + +It was so like her--so indicative of a mental attitude invariably small +and personal, that he could have smiled: + +"I can't say, but probably Grasslands. The end of the route laid down +isn't so far from there." + +"Shall I go back to Grasslands?" + +He pondered a moment, then decided it was wiser to trust nothing to her, +even so simple a matter as her withdrawal to the country. + +"No, stay where you are. There'd be a lot of questioning if you went, +bothersome, hard to answer. When we have her I'll let you know. For the +rest of this afternoon I'll be in town, in my room here on the floor +below. If anything of moment should happen send for me, but don't unless +it's vital. I'll be busy getting things ready. Be silent, be grave, be +hopeful--that's all you have to do now." + +He left her, going directly to his room on a lower floor of the hotel. +She felt numb and dazed, wondering how she was to live through the next +twenty-four hours. Her parents returned from their drive and close on +their entrance came a communication from the Whitney office, saying the +jewels had been found and Mr. and Mrs. Janney were wanted downtown. In +the midst of their bustling excitement she sat mute, following their +movements with vacant eyes. She saw them leave in agitated haste, Mr. +Janney forgetful of her, her mother throwing out phrases of comfort as +she hurried to the door. She was glad when they were gone and she could +be still, draw all her energies inward in the fight for endurance and +courage. + +His coat off, the windows wide for such breaths of air as floated across +the heated roofs, Ferguson paced back and forth with a long, even +stride. His uncertainty was ended, the tension relaxed; he stood face to +face with the event and measured it. + +His assurances to Suzanne that he would make no attempt to apprehend the +kidnapers had been sops thrown to pacify her terror. He had no more +intention of a supine acquiescence than Mrs. Janney would have had. +Beyond the clearing of Esther, stood out the man's desire to bring to +justice the perpetrators of a foul and dastardly deed. Now, with their +cards laid on the table, it rose higher, burned into a steady, hot blaze +of rage and resolution. + +But between his desire and its fulfilment stretched a maze of +difficulties. He saw at once what Larkin had seen--that their plan was +as nearly impregnable as such a plan could be. Though he knew every mile +of the country they had selected, he knew that the chances of waylaying +or flanking them were ten to one against him. Numerous roads, north and +south, led from the Cresson Pike, some to the shore drive along the +Sound, some inland crossing the various highways that threaded the +center of the Island. Any one of these might be chosen as the road down +which their car would turn, and any one of them, winding through woods +and lonely tracts of country, would offer avenues of escape. + +He thought of stationing men along the designated route but it would +take an army, impossible to gather at such short notice and impossible +to place without his opponent's cognizance. Hundreds of men could not be +picketed along a ten-mile stretch of highway without those who were the +authors of so daring a scheme being aware. They would be on the watch; +no move of such magnitude could be hidden from them. It would be the +same if he called in the police. They would know it, and what could the +police do that he could not do more secretly, more efficiently? + +A following car was also out of the question. There was no reason to +suppose that they would not have several cars of their own, passing and +repassing him, making sure that he was unescorted. The threats of injury +to the child he had set down as efforts to reduce Suzanne to a paralyzed +silence. But if they saw an attempt was on foot to trap them they might +not show up at all--go as they had come, unknown and unsighted, their +car lost among the procession of motors that passed along the Cresson +Pike. Then taken fright, they might not dare another effort, might drop +out of sight with their hostage unredeemed. A chill crept over the young +man, he had a dread vision of the old people's despair, of Suzanne +distraught, crazed perhaps. It behooved him to run no risks; to make +sure of the child was his first duty, to strike at her abductors his +second. + +The course he finally decided on was the only one that made Bebita's +restoration certain and offered a possibility of routing his opponents. +At the hour named he would place on the road six motors, driven by his +own chauffeurs and garage men, and entering the turnpike at intervals of +ten minutes. Three would start from its eastern end, meeting him en +route, three from its western, strung out behind him, now and then +speeding up, overhauling him and passing on. Of a summer's Saturday +night the Cresson Pike was full of vehicles, and the six, merged in the +shifting stream, would suggest no connection with him or his mission. + +Where his hope of success lay was that one of these satellites, to whom +the character and marking of his roadster would be visible at some +distance, might be within sight when he was signaled and see him turn +into the branch road. Its business would be to wait until another of the +fleet came up, pass the word, and the two follow on his tracks. This +halt would give the kidnapers time to complete the transaction, get the +money, give up the child, and bind him. If they were interrupted the +situation would be too perilous to permit of delay--he had thought of an +attack on the child--and if they had finished and gone the rescuing cars +could fly in pursuit. + +He was far from satisfied with it; it was very different from the +schemes he had had in his head before he measured his resourcefulness +against theirs. He dropped into a chair, sunk in moody contemplation of +its deficiencies. The men he had to rely on were not the right kind, +loyal and willing enough, but without the boldness and initiative +necessary to such an enterprise. He wanted a lieutenant, some one he +could look to for quick, independent action if the affair took an +unexpected turn. You couldn't tell how it might develop, and he, pledged +to his ungrateful role, would be powerless to meet new demands, might +not know they had arisen. + +He was roused by a knock on the door. It surprised him for his presence +in the city was unknown except to his own household and the Janney +family. Then he thought of Suzanne coming down to him to pour out her +fears, and his "Come in" was harsh and unwelcoming. In answer to it the +door opened and Chapman Price entered. + +Ferguson rose, looking at his visitor, startled and silent. His surprise +was caused by the man's appearance, by a fierce disturbance in the +handsome face, pale under its swarthy tan, by the eyes, agate-black and +gleaming in a bovine glare. He had seen Chapman angry but never just +like this, and from a state, keyed to anticipate any new shock from any +direction, said: + +"What's happened now?" + +Price had closed the door and backing up, leaned against it. His answer +came, hoarse and broken: + +"I've been to those hounds, the Whitneys." + +It illuminated the ignorance of his listener, who was readjusting his +mind for a reply when the other burst into a storm of invective against +the lawyers and the Janneys. It broke like a released torrent, sentences +stumbling on one another, curses mingled with wild accusations, its +cause revealed in a final cry of: "Stolen--my child--kidnaped--gone!" + +Through Ferguson's head, full of weightier matters, flashed a vision of +Chapman raging at the Whitneys and a wonder as to what effect his rage +had had. Kicking a chair forward he spoke with a dry quietness: + +"That's all right--you needn't bother to go over it. Pull yourself +together and sit down." + +But he might as well have counseled self-control to an angry lion. The +man, still standing against the door, jerked out: + +"I can get nothing from any of them. They know nothing. They've let all +this time pass--following _me_, suspecting _me_. I don't know why I +didn't kill them!" + +"Probably because you've sense enough left not to complicate what's +complicated enough already. What brought you here?" + +He seemed unable to answer any direct question, staring with dilated +eyes, his thoughts fastened on the subject of his pain: + +"Spent a week--lost a week! Good God, Dick, they ought to be held +responsible. Where is she? Not one of them knows--not an effort made. +She's gone, lost, been stolen, spirited away, while they've been sitting +in their office, turning their d----d detectives loose on me." + +"Look here, Chapman, I'm not saying you're not right, but the milk's +spilled and it's no good trying to pick it up. If you'll sit down and +listen to me--" + +Price cut him off, leaving his post by the door to begin a distracted +striding about the room: + +"I couldn't stand it--when I'd got it through me I left. Then I tried to +get hold of Suzanne--telephoned her, here somewhere in this place. She's +half crazy, I think--I don't wonder, she's fonder of Bebita than +anything in the world. She wouldn't see me, crying and moaning out that +she couldn't, that she couldn't bear any more. And when I begged--I +thought that she and I might arrange some combined effort, that whatever +we had been we were partners _now_ in this--she told me to come to you, +that you could tell me more, that you could help." He swerved round on +Ferguson, the hard passion of his glance softened to a despairing +urgency, "For God's sake, do. I'm penniless, I know almost nothing +except that I've got to act now, at once, before any more time is lost. +Give me a hand, help me to find her." + +Ferguson's voice had an element of endurance in its level tones: + +"That's just what I want to do. And if you'll stop talking and let me +explain, you'll see I'm on the way to do it. But it's not _my_ help that +you want, it's the other way round--_I_ want _yours_." + +It was almost dark and Ferguson turned on the lights. Under their thin, +white radiance, the two men sat, drawn close to the open window, and +Ferguson told his story. The other listened, the storm of his anger +gone, his dark face growing keen and hard as he heard the plan unfolded. +An hour later they parted, Price to go to Council Oaks and lie low there +until the following night when he would command the fleet of motors in +the chase along the Cresson Turnpike. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII--NIGHT ON THE CRESSON PIKE + + +The night fell stifling and airless, unfortunately favorable for the +kidnapers, as the sky was covered with clouds and the country wrapped in +a thick darkness. + +At half-past eight the roadster, with Ferguson driving, glided into the +little village of North Cresson and swung out into the Cresson Turnpike. +Ten minutes behind him was his touring car with Saunders, his chauffeur, +at the wheel. Twenty minutes later a limousine was to strike into the +pike from a road just beyond the village, and a runabout, emerging from +an opposite direction, complete the chain. At the other end of the +ten-mile limit Chapman Price in the black racer, was running up from the +shore drive, with two satellites, one his own motor, one a hired Ford, +strung out behind him. + +Of a hot summer night at this hour the pike was alive with autos; +returning holiday-makers, city dwellers taking a spin in the country to +cool off, joy riders rioting by, belated business men speeding to the +sea-side for the Sunday rest. They bore down on Ferguson like a +procession of fleeing monsters with round, goblin eyes staring in +affright. They came from behind, swinging across his path in a blur of +dust, laughter and shrill cries rising from their crowded tonneaus. +Keeping to their narrow track between the borders of the fields they +were like a turbulent, flashing torrent, dividing the darkness with a +stream of streaked radiance, cutting the silence with a current of +continuous sound. + +Ferguson's glance ranged ahead, dazzled by the glare of advancing lamps +that enlarged on his vision, grew to a blinding haze and swept by. He +could see little, blackness and brightness alternating, the motors +emerging as dim solidities, realized for a passing moment, then gone. +Once a small car, cutting across his bows from a side road, made him +slacken, but it slowed round showing the gnarled face of a farmer with a +fat woman on the seat beside him and a bunch of children behind. + +As he went on the press of vehicles thinned, the line of the road showed +bare for longer stretches. The runabout overhauled him, kept by his side +for a few yards, then drew ahead, its red tail lantern receding with an +even, skimming smoothness; a spot, a spark, nothing. He calculated he +had covered nearly half the distance when the black racer passed in a +soft, purring rush, his eye, through the yellow fog that preceded it, +catching a glimpse of Price's face. Then came a long, straight level +between fields where only two cars went by, both going cityward. He +looked back and tried to see the road behind him, straining his vision +for a following shape, but the darkness lay close and unbroken, no +goblin eyes peering through it in anxious pursuit. + +The road took a dive into woods, black as a cavern, the air breathless. +It wound in sharp curves, his lamps sending their swinging rays into +thickets, then out again on a hilltop, and down, swooping with a long, +smooth glide into a valley. Here the touring car passed him and he met a +limousine, traveling at a pace as sober as his own, in its lit interior +two men talking; after that a farmer's wagon drawn up against the +roadside grasses, the horse prancing in fractious fear. Then nobody--a +wide strip of open country with the sky setting down like an arched lid +over the low circular surface of the land. + +It was very still and his listening ear caught the buzzing hum of a +vehicle behind him. This time he did not turn but drew off further to +the right, and a closed coupe swung by, with the jarring rattle of an +old and loose-geared body. He was on the alert at once, its hooded shape +suggesting secrecy, the surrounding loneliness apt for its design. Its +tail light cast a bobbing, crimson blot on the bed and he saw its back, +dust-grimed and rusty, and the numbered oblong of its license tag. That +caused his expectancy to drop--the tag stood for respectability and +honest wayfaring, then, with a quickened leap of his heart, he realized +that its speed was slackening. It slowed down to his own gait, and at +the limit of his lamp's illumination, moved before him, a square bulk, +its back cut by a small window. He felt sure now, and with his hand on +the wheel took a look over his shoulder. In the distance, cresting a +rise, he saw two golden dots, too far for a speedy overtaking, and even +if that were possible he had no reason to suppose they belonged to any +of his followers. + +A belt of woods spread across the way and the road entered it as if +tunneling a vault. It wound, looped and twisted, tree trunks and leafy +hollows starting out as the long bright tubes swept over them. As one of +these, slewing wide in a sharper turn, crossed the bank of the forward +car, Ferguson saw an arm extended and from the hand a white spark flash +twice. Almost immediately the coupe turned to the left, and plunged into +a by-way, black as a pocket, the woods' thick growth crowding on its +edges. + +The roadbed was good and the leading car accelerated its speed racing +onward under the arching boughs. Ferguson, close on its heels, knew that +the sounds of their going would be muffled by the enshrouding woodland, +absorbed in its woven density. No chance either of meeting any one; the +way was one of those forest trails, sought by the rich on their +afternoon drives, but at night deserted by all but the birds and the +squirrels. Cursing at the failure of his schemes, powerless now to +protest or to retaliate, he followed until he knew by a freshening of +the air that they were near the Sound. The coupe's speed began to lessen +and it came to a halt. + +Ferguson drew up a few rods behind it. He could see the trees about him +picked out in detail and behind them the engulfing darkness. The machine +in front still seemed to shake and vibrate; he caught the sound of a +step and then a voice, a man's, deep and low-keyed: + +"This is the place. Get out." + +He jumped to the ground, discerning a shape by the coupe's door. He +advanced, peering through his lantern's intervening glare, and made out +it was alone. Stung with a quick fear, he halted and said. + +"Where's the child?" + +"Here. Put the money on the rock to your right." + +The man came forward, a raised hand pointing to where the top of a rock +showed among the wayside grasses. From the lifted hand, the light struck +a silvery gleam, touching the barrel of a revolver. Ferguson, without +moving said: + +"I must see her first." + +He thought he detected a moment's hesitation, then the man stepped back +to the car and called a gruff: + +"All right--quick--look." + +He swung the coupe door open and from an electric torch in his left hand +sent a ray into the interior. The white shaft pierced the murk like a +pointing finger. Its circular end, a spot of livid brightness, played on +Bebita curled on the floor asleep. Ferguson saw her as if cut from an +encompassing blackness, transparently clear like a picture suspended in +a void. Then the ray was extinguished, and as he stood, blinking against +the obscurity, heard the man's voice, "The money--on the rock there," +and caught the gleam of the revolver barrel level with his eyes. + +He walked to the rock and laid the money, in an envelope clasped with +rubber bands, on its flat surface. The whole thing seemed to him like a +cheap melodrama and he could have laughed as he righted himself and saw +the round, shining end of the revolver covering him, and the silent +figure behind it. + +"Come on," he said, "get to the rest. You tie me--where?" + +"The oak--behind you." + +It was a large-sized tree back from the edge of the road, and he walked +to it hearing the man trampling the underbrush in his wake. He had a +sense of a dreamlike quality in the whole fantastic performance, as if +he might wake up suddenly and find he'd been having a nightmare. + +But there was nothing dreamlike in the force with which the rope was +thrown about him and tightened round the tree. As he felt it strained +across his chest, lashed round his legs, girding him to the trunk close +at its bark, he recognized expertness and strength in the hands that +bound him. The thing was done with extraordinary speed and deftness, and +ended by a lump of waste, that smelled of gasoline, being thrust into +his mouth. + +The heavy tread moved again through the underbrush, the man passed to +the rock, and, his back to Ferguson, crouched on the light's edges +counting the money. Ferguson saw him in silhouette, a large, humped body +with bent head. This done, he went to the door of the coupe and lifted +out the child. He had some difficulty in getting hold of her, muttered +an oath, then drew her out, carried her to the roadside and set her down +on the grass. There was a moment when he crossed the full gush of +illumination and Ferguson had a clear glimpse of him, a chauffeur's cap +on his head, the lower part of his face covered by a thick beard. +Returning to his car, he jumped in. Its lurching start broke into a +sudden flight, it rushed; Ferguson could hear the bounding of stones, +the creaking and wrenching of its body as it hurtled down the road. + + +[Illustration: _Ferguson saw him in silhouette, a large, humped body +with bent head_] + + +Silence settled, the deep, dreaming quiet of the woods. The young man +tried to struggle, to writhe and work himself loose, but his bonds held +fast, and he found himself choked for air, stifling and snorting over +his gag. He gave it up and looked at the child. By straining his eyes he +could just see her, a small, relaxed body, one hand outflung, her +profile, held in a trance-like sleep, marble white against the grass. A +hideous fear assailed him:--she might be dead. Some drug had evidently +been administered to keep her quiet--an overdose! He wrenched and +pressed at the cords, almost strangled and had to stop, the sweat +pouring into his eyes, his heart pounding on the rope that cut into his +chest. He called on his will, felt himself steadied, his smothered +breath came easier, the only sound on the silence. + +Then another broke upon it, far away, from the direction of the Sound--a +thin, clear report. He stiffened, all his faculties strained to listen, +heard it again, several in a spattering run, dropping distinct, like +little globules piercing the stillness. "Shooting!" he thought with a +wild surge of excitement, "out toward the water--Oh, Lord, have they got +him?" + +He listened again, but heard nothing. And then from the ground rose a +moaning breath, a sleepy cry--Bebita was awake. He wrenched his head +till he could see her plainly, her face turned upward, the eyes still +closed, the forehead puckered with a look of pain. He tried to emit some +word, heard it only as a guttural mutter, and watching, saw her stir, +the out-stretched arm sway upward, her eyes open, dazed and heavy, and +heard her drowsy whimper of, "Mummy," and then, "Oh, Annie, where are +you?" Slowly, her head moving as her glance swept the unfamiliar +prospect, she sat up. + +He remembered the next few minutes as something incredibly horrible, the +child's consciousness clearing to an overwhelming fear. She looked +about, saw him, scrambled to her feet and began to scream, shrill, +terrified cries, crouching away from him like a scared animal. She made +a rush for the motor, climbing in, cowering down, calling on the names +that meant safety: "Mummy! Oh, Mummy! Gramp, Daddy--Come! _Come_ to me!" + +An answer came, the hollow bray of a motor horn, the shout of a man's +voice, then the twin spears of light, the whirring buzz of a machine +shooting out of the road's dark tunnel--Chapman Price in the black car. +He leapt out and ran to her, caught her up, strained her to him, held +her head back to look into her face, kissed her, babbled words of love +that broke on his lips and he hid his face on her neck. She twined round +him, arms and legs clutching and clinging, sobbing out, "Popsy, Popsy!" +over and over. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII--THE MAN IN THE BOAT + + +Price took Bebita to Grasslands, handed her over to Annie and telephoned +in to the Janneys. Then he left to rejoin Ferguson who was to go to the +shore and find out the meaning of the shots. Price, missing the leading +car, had decided that it had turned from the pike and scouring the side +roads in a blind chase had heard the shots, agreeing with Ferguson that +they came from the direction of the Sound. + +Ferguson went that way, driving at breakneck speed. He had almost +reached the shore, felt the water's coolness, saw the wood's vista widen +when, to avoid a deep rut, he slewed his machine to the left. The lights +penetrated a thicket, revealing behind the woven foliage, a dark, large +body, black among the tangled green. He drew up, peering at it--it was +not a rock; its side showed smooth through the boughs. He jumped out and +pushed his way through the bushes. It was a taxi, its lamps +extinguished, broken branches and crushed foliage marking its track. + +It gave evidence of a violent flight and a hasty desertion, careened to +one side, its door open, a rug hanging over the step. He went to the +back, struck a match and looked at the license tag--the number was that +of the motor he had followed. Covered by the darkness, driven deep among +the trees, it could easily have passed unnoticed until the daylight +betrayed it. + +The plan of escape revealed a new artfulness--the man had made off +either on foot or in another vehicle. It accounted for the license--he +knew his pursuers would mark it and look for a car carrying that number. +In the face of such a crafty completeness of detail the young man felt +himself reduced to a baffled indecision. Cogitating on the various +routes his quarry might have taken, he ran out on to the shore road and +here again halted. + +Before him the Sound lay, a smooth dark floor, along which glided the +small golden glimmerings of river craft. He looked up and down the road, +discernible as a gray path between the upstanding solidity of the woods +and the flat solidity of the water. Some distance in front a black blot +took shape under his exploring glance as a small house. He started the +car and ran toward it, seeing as he approached a dancing yellow spot +come from behind it in swaying passage. He stopped, the yellow spot +steadied, rose, swung aloft--a lantern in the hands of a man, half +dressed, who came toward him spying out from under the upraised glow. + +Ferguson spoke abruptly: + +"Did you hear shots a while ago?" + +The man setting his lantern on the ground, spoke with the slow phlegm of +the native: + +"I did--close here. I bin down to the waterside seein' if I could make +out what they was." + +The house was skirted by a balcony along which a second light now came +into view; this time from a lamp carried in the hand of a woman. She was +wrapped in a bed gown, a straggle of loose hair hanging round a +frightened face. + +"We was asleep and they woke us up. They was right off there," she +jerked her head to the Sound behind her. + +"From the water?" Ferguson asked. + +"Sounded that way," the man took it up. "We wasn't sure at first what it +was; then they come crack, crack, one after the other, from somewheres +beyont. My wife, she said it was motor boats, said she heard 'em off +across the water. But by the time we got something on and was outside it +was over. There wasn't no more and we couldn't see nothing. I bin down +on the beach lookin' round, thinkin' they might have come from there, +but I ain't found no tracks or signs of anybody." + +"I was wonderin'," said the woman, "if may be it was that patrol +boat--the one they got this summer runnin' along the shore for +thieves--That they caught a sight of one and went after him." + +Ferguson was silent for a moment then said: + +"Is there any place round here where a boat could be hidden, deep enough +water for a launch?" + +The man answered: + +"Yes, right down the road a step there's a cove and an old dock; used to +belong to the folks that lived on the bluff but the house burned down a +while back and ain't been rebuilt and no one's used the dock since. A +feller could hide a boat there fine; it's all overgrown so you can't see +it unless you know where it is." + +"I'd like to take a look at it," said Ferguson. "Come along with the +lantern." + +The place was only a few yards from the mouth of the wood road. Trees +and shrubs sheltered it, concealing with their rank growth a small +wharf, rotted and sagging to the water line. The lantern rays revealed a +recent presence, scattered leaves and twigs on the wooden planking, the +long marshy grasses showing a track from the road to the wharf's edge. + +"Yes, sir," said the native, much impressed; "some one's been here +to-night and not s'long ago either. You can see where the dew's been +swep' off the grasses right to the water." + +Ferguson said nothing; he now saw the whole plan of escape--the coupe +left in the woods, a short run to the cove where a boat had been +concealed, the get-away down on across the Sound. What had the shots +meant? Was the woman right in thinking the police patrol had come upon +the fleeing criminal? And if they had what had been the result? + +Lantern in hand, the man at his heels, he crushed through the swampy +copse to the shore. There his glance swept the long stretch of the +water, sewn in the distance with a pattern of moving sparks. Two of +them, red and green, stole over the ebony surface toward him, advancing +with an even, gliding smoothness, piercing and steady, like the eyes of +a stealthily approaching animal, fixing him with a meaning scrutiny. He +snatched up the lantern and ran for a point that jutted out in a pebbly +cape. Standing on its tip he raised and waved the light, letting his +voice ring out across the stillness: + +"Boat ahoy!" + +The lights drew closer, their reflections stabbing down into the oily +depths, gleam below gleam. The pulsing of a muffled engine came with +them, a prow took shape, a shine of wood and brass above the lusterless +tide. Ferguson called again: + +"Who are you?" + +An answer rose in a man's surly voice: + +"What's that to you?" + +"A good deal. I'm Ferguson of Council Oaks and I'm looking for the boat +that fired on some one round here about an hour ago." + +The voice replied, its tone changed to sudden conciliation: + +"Oh, Mr. Ferguson; couldn't see who it was. We're what you're looking +for--the police patrol. We have the launch here in tow." + +"Have you got the man?" + +"Yes, sir. He didn't answer our challenge and fired on us. We chased and +gave it back to him--a running fight. One of us got him--he's dead." + +"Go on to my wharf; I'll be there when you come." + +On his way along the shore road he met Price, paused for a quick +explanation, and the two cars ran at a racing clip to Ferguson's wharf. +The men were standing on its end when the police boat glided into the +gush of light that fell from the high electric lamps at either side of +the ship. Behind it, lifted and dropped by the languid wavelets, was a +launch, a covered shape lying on the floor. + +The story of the police was quickly told. The night, dark and windless, +was the kind chosen by the water thieves for their operations. The men +had been on the watch faring noiselessly with engine muffled and hooded +lamps. It was nearly the end of their run, a length of shore with few +estates, when they saw a boat glide from a part of the beach peculiarly +dark and deserted. The craft carried no lights, a fact that instantly +roused their suspicions, and they waited. As it drew out for the open +water they challenged. There was no answer, but a sudden acceleration of +its speed, shooting by them like a streak for the mid reaches of the +Sound. + +They started in pursuit, repeating their challenge and then an order to +lie to. Again there was no response and they clapped on top speed and +raced in its wake. They were gaining on it when, in answer to a louder +hail, the man fired on them, the bullet passing between two of them and +burying itself in the gunwale. They replied with a return fire, there +was a fusillade of shots, and the two boats sped in a darkling rush +across the Sound. They knew something was wrong with their opponent; his +launch headed in a straight line swept through the wash of steamers, cut +across the bows of tugs and river craft, rocking like a cockleshell, +menaced by destruction, shouts and objurgations following its mad +course. They were up with it, almost alongside on the last lap. He made +no answer to their hails, sat upright and motionless, sat so when his +bow crashed against the rocks of the Connecticut shore. They found him +dead, a bullet in his brain, the wheel still gripped in his hands. + +Ferguson dropped into the launch and drew down the coat that had been +thrown over the body. The face, the false beard gone, was handsome, the +body large and powerful, the hands fine and well kept--it was not the +type he had expected to see. He felt in the pockets and found the money +still in its envelope, clasped by the rubber bands. There were no other +papers, no means of identification. After a short colloquy with the men, +he and Price drove back to Council Oaks. + +Price left the next morning. His presence was necessary in the city, he +said, and he seemed preoccupied and anxious to go. He hinted at +forthcoming revelations which would clear up what was still unexplained, +but declared himself unable at present to say more. + +When he had gone, Ferguson walked to Grasslands where he found the +family recuperating in a relief too deep for words. Bebita was in bed +still asleep. The doctor, sent for the night before, said she was +suffering from the effects of a drug, but that rest and quiet would soon +restore her. + +They collected on the balcony to hear his story. When it was over, +questions answered, amazement and horror vented in various forms, Mr. +Janney said he would like to walk over to the wharf and have a talk with +the police himself. Ferguson decided to go with him; there would be a +lot of business to be gone through, an inquest with all its unpleasant +detail. + +As they rose to leave, Suzanne announced that she wanted to come too. +She looked a wreck, in her hysterical jubilation forgetful of her rouge +and powder; a worn little wraith of a woman whose journey to the heart +of life had stripped her of all coquetry and beauty. They tried to +dissuade her, but, as usual, she was insistent; she wanted to see the +men herself, she wanted to hear everything. On this day of thanksgiving +no one had the will to thwart her, so they accepted with the best grace +they could and she walked through the woods with them. + +There was a group of men on the wharf, the local police, the coroner, +some of Ferguson's employees. The body had been put in the boathouse, +laid on a table under a sheltering tarpaulin. Ferguson and Mr. Janney +drew off to the end of the dock in low-toned conference with the +officials. They were relieved to see that Suzanne had no mind to listen, +but stayed by herself in the shade of the boathouse wall. + +She leaned against it, looking out over the sparkling reaches of the +Sound. Her thoughts were of the dead man, close behind her there, on the +other side of the wooden partition. She wondered with an awed amaze at +his wild act and its dark ending. She wondered what manner of man he +was, what he was like--a human creature, unknown to her, who could want +only to cause her such anguish. + +She shot a glance over her shoulder and saw that the door of the +boathouse was half open--the coroner had been in and had neglected to +close it. She looked at the men at the end of the wharf; they stood in a +little cluster, backs toward her, heads together in animated discussion. +She moved from the wall, advanced on tip-toe through the slant of shade, +and slipped through the open doorway. + +The place was very still, its clear, varnished brownness impregnated +with the sea's salty tang, through its windows the golden gleam of the +waves reflected in rippling lights that chased across its peaked +ceiling. She stole to the table where the grim shape lay and lifted the +tarpaulin with a trembling hand. The other shot suddenly to her mouth, +strangling a scream, and she dropped the heavy cloth as if it burned +her. Both hands went up over her face, flattened there until the nails +were empurpled, and she stood, bent as if cramped with pain, for the +moment all movement paralyzed. + +Ferguson, informed of all he wanted to know, turned from the others to +join her. She was not where he had left her, and moving down the wharf +he looked about and, seeing no sign of her, decided that she had gone +home. He was passing the boathouse doorway when she came through it +almost upon him. + +"Good heavens!" he said angrily, "have you been in _there_?" Then, +seeing her face, he caught her arm and held her. Would there ever be an +end to her willfulness! + +"Come home," he said, sharply, and led her away. She tottered beside +him, drooping and ghastly. As they crossed the road to the path up the +bluff he could not forbear an exasperated: + +"What in the name of common sense did you do that for? Didn't you know +it was not a thing for you to see?" + +Her hands locked on his arm; she leaned against him lifting a haggard +glance to his face. Her voice was a husky whisper: + +"It's not that, Dick. It wasn't just the dead man. It was--it was--he +was my detective--Larkin!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX--MISS MAITLAND EXPLAINS + + +On Saturday afternoon several telephone messages were sent to Esther +Maitland at O'Malley's flat. They came from Ferguson, from Grasslands, +and the Whitney office. In the two latter cases they were conciliatory +and apologetic and asked that Miss Maitland would see the senders and +explain the circumstances that had so strangely involved her in the +case. + +To both her employers and the Whitneys Miss Maitland returned an evasive +answer. She would be happy to do as they asked, but would have to let a +few more days pass before she would be free to speak. Meantime she would +remain with Mrs. O'Malley, who had offered to keep her, and who had +treated her with the utmost kindness and consideration. One request she +made--this to the Whitneys--she would like Chapman Price to be advised +of her whereabouts. It would be necessary for her to communicate with +him before she would be able to explain her share in the mystery. + +Ferguson's message had been an importunate demand to let him come to +her. She refused, said she would see no one until she was at liberty to +clear herself, which would not be for some days yet. Her voice showed a +tremulous urgency, a note of pleading, new to his ears and infinitely +sweet. But he could not break down her resolution; she begged him to do +as she asked, not to seek her out, not to demand any explanations until +she was ready to give them. The one favor she granted him was that when +the time was up and she could break her silence, he could come for her. + +This did not happen until Wednesday. That morning she 'phoned to them +all that she could now see them and tell them what they wanted to hear. +A meeting was arranged at the Whitney office for three that afternoon +and Ferguson went to fetch her. + +They met in Mrs. O'Malley's front parlor, considerately vacated and with +the folding doors closed against intrusion. Without greeting Ferguson +took her hands and held them, looking down into her face. She was +beaming, her cheeks flushed, her eyes shy. She began to say something +about being at last able to vindicate herself, but he cut her off: + +"Before you go into that, I want to say something to you." + +"No, that's not fair; I must speak first and you must let me. It's my +privilege." + +"With the others maybe, but not with me. What I have to say has to be +said _before_ I hear. Esther, do you know what it is?" + +She was silent, her head drooping, her hands growing cold in his grasp. +He went on, very quietly and simply: + +"It's that I ask you to be my wife. And I must ask it before the +clearing or vindicating or any rubbish of that sort. I don't know what +_you'll_ say to it and I don't want any answer now. That's at your own +good time and your own good pleasure. It's just that I wanted you to see +how I stand and have stood since that night when we walked through the +woods together. Come along now--it's nearly three, and we mustn't keep +them waiting." + +It was a very different Esther who sat in Wilbur Whitney's private +office, facing those who had once been her accusers. She gave no +evidence of rancor, greeted them with a frank friendliness, smiled with +a radiance they set down to the rebound from long tension and strain. +Suzanne, her jealous fires burned out, could acknowledge now that she +was handsome; Mr. Janney wondered at her look of breeding. "A fine +girl," old Whitney thought, as he studied her through his glasses, +"spirited and high-mettled as a racer." + +"It's a long story," she said, "and for you to understand it I'll have +to go back to a time when none of you had ever heard of me. And before I +begin, I want to say to Mrs. Janney," she turned to the older woman +eagerly earnest, "if I had understood people better, if I hadn't been +hardened and made suspicious by the struggle I'd had, I would have +trusted you and told you more, and all this misery would have been +averted. So, in a way it was my fault, and being such I've suffered for +it. + +"I have a half-sister, Florence Jackson, nine years younger than I am; +that would make her eighteen. When my stepfather died, ten years ago, he +left us penniless and I had to start in at once to make our bread. I +boarded Florry out with friends and found a position as a school +teacher. That was only for a year or two; soon I advanced into the +secretarial work which was less fatiguing and better paying. In the +first place I got, Florry was living near me and on Sundays she used to +come and see me. My employer didn't like it--did not want a strange +child about the house and told me so without mincing words. I was +angry--I was hot-tempered and sensitive in those days and I made a vow +to keep my life to myself, be nothing to my employers but a machine who +rendered certain services for a certain wage. When I came to you, Mrs. +Janney, I should have seen that I was with some one who was big-hearted +and generous, but I had been molded and the mold had set in a hard and +bitter shape. + +"Earning more money I was able to put Florry in good schools. It was my +intention to give her a fine education, and equip her for the task of +earning her living. She was quick and clever, but willful and hard to +control. I suppose it was because she had had no home influences, no +place that belonged to her. She had to spend her vacations +anywhere--sometimes at the school, sometimes with classmates. It was a +miserable life for a child. + +"She was always pretty--when she was little people used to stop on the +streets to look at her--and as she grew older she grew prettier. She was +charming, too, there was something about her very willfulness that was +captivating. The combination worried me; if she had had more balance, +been more reasonable, it wouldn't have mattered. But she was the kind +who is always full of wild enthusiasms, going off at a tangent about +this, that and the other. Not a promising temperament for a girl who has +to support herself. + +"A year ago I got her into a first class school near Chicago--I had met +the principal, who had been very kind and taken her at a greatly reduced +rate. It was to be her last year; in June she would graduate and with +her education finished, I felt sure I could get her a position in New +York where I could help her and watch over her. During the winter--last +winter--her letters made me uneasy. She was discontented, tired of +study, wanted to be out in the world doing something. I was prepared for +a struggle with her, but not for what happened. + +"One day--it was in March--I had a letter from her saying she had run +away from school, was in New York and was looking for a job. I was angry +and bitterly disappointed, also I was frightened--Florry in New York +without a cent, with no one to be with her, with no home or companion. I +went to the address she gave me and found her in the hall bedroom of a +third rate boarding house--a woman on the train had told her of it--full +of high spirits and a sort of childish joy at being free. She did not +understand my disappointment, laughed at my fears. I lost my temper, +said more than I ought--and--well, we had a quarrel, the first real one +we ever had. + +"That night I couldn't sleep, blaming myself, knowing that whatever she +did it was my duty to stand by her. The next day I went to the place and +found she'd gone, leaving no address. For three days I heard nothing +from her and was on the verge of going to you, Mrs. Janney, and +imploring your aid and advice, when a letter came. She was all right, +she had found paying employment, she was independent at last. In my +first spare hour I went to her and found her in another boarding house, +a cheap, shabby place, but decent. A good many working women lived +there, the better paid shop girls and heads of departments. It was +through one of these, a fitter, at Camille's, that she had got work. +With her beauty it had been easy--she had been employed as a model at +Camille's." + +"Camille's!" the word came on a startled note from Suzanne. Esther +turned to her: + +"Yes, Mrs. Price, and you saw her there--you ordered a dress from a +model that Florry wore." + +"The girl with the reddish hair--the tall girl?" + +"Yes, that was Florry. She told me afterward how she walked up and down +in front of you." + +"But--" Suzanne's voice showed an incredulous wonder, "she was +beautiful; they were all talking about her." + +"I said she was--I was not exaggerating. She was satisfied with her +work, liked it, I think she would have liked anything that was novel and +took her away from the grind of study. _I_ didn't like it, but at least +it wasn't the stage, and I set about trying to find something better. +That was the situation till April and then--" She paused, her eyes +dropped to the floor. The color suddenly rose in her face and raising +them she shot a look at Ferguson. He answered it with a slight, almost +imperceptible nod and smiled in open encouragement. She took a deep +breath and addressed Mrs. Janney: + +"What I have to tell now isn't pleasant for me to say or for you to +hear, but I have to tell it for all the subsequent events grew from it. +Mr. Price had been to Camille's that first time with his wife." + +There was a slight stir in the listening company, a sudden focusing of +intent eyes on the girl, a waiting expectancy in the grave faces. She +saw it and answered it: + +"Yes, he saw Florry. He went again--Mrs. Price was buying several +dresses. After that second visit he waited one night at the side door +used for employees and spoke to her. I can't condone what she did, but I +can say in extenuation that she was very young, very inexperienced, that +she knew who Mr. Price was, and that she had never in her life met a man +of his attractions. + +"She didn't hide it from me, was frank and outspoken about the meeting +and his subsequent attentions. For he saw her often after that, took her +for walks on Sunday, sent her theater tickets and books. I was filled +with anxiety, besought of her to give it up, but she wouldn't, she +couldn't. Before I went to Grasslands I realized a situation was +developing that made me sick with apprehension. She was in love, madly +in love. I couldn't reason with her, I couldn't make her listen to me; +she was blind and deaf to anything but him and what he said. + +"I went to Mr. Price and implored him to leave her alone. I had to catch +him as I could--in the halls, at odd moments in the library, for he +hated the scenes I made and tried to avoid me. He assured me that he +meant no harm, that her position was hard and he was sorry for her. I +threatened to tell Mrs. Janney, and he said I could if I wanted, that he +would soon be done with them all and didn't care. I saw then that he +too, like Florry, was growing indifferent to everything but the hours +when they were together--that _he_ was in love. + +"That was the situation when I went to Grasslands. It was much worse +there--I couldn't see her often, I was in ignorance of how things were +going with her, for her letters told me little. It was unbearable, and I +went into town whenever I could; all the extra holidays were asked for +so that I could go into the city and see how Florry was getting on. On +one of these visits she told me something that, at the time, I paid +little attention to, setting it down as one of her passing fancies; she +was interested in the working girls' unions. At Camille's and in the +boarding house she had fallen in with a group of girls of Socialistic +beliefs and, through them, had met their organizers and backers. She was +much more deeply involved than I guessed. Her fearlessness, her ardor +for anything new and exciting, making her a valuable addition to their +ranks. It carried her far, to the edge of tragedy." + +She turned to Mr. Janney: + +"Do you remember, Mr. Janney, one morning early in July, how I read you +an account of a strike riot among the shirtwaist makers when one of the +girls stabbed a policeman with a hatpin?" + +The old man nodded: + +"Yes, vaguely. I have a dim memory of arguing about it with you." + +"That was the time. Well, that girl was Florry. She lost her head +completely, stabbed the man, and in the tumult that followed, managed to +get away through the hall of a tenement house. She was hidden by friends +of hers, Russian socialists called Rychlovsky. I have met them; they +seem decent, kindly people, and they certainly were very good to her. +When I read you the article I had no more idea that the girl was Florry +than you had. It was not until the next morning that I received a letter +from her, telling me what she had done and where she was. + +"She wrote two letters, one to me and one to Mr. Price. He had told her +that he would spend his week-ends with the Hartleys at Cedar Brook and +she sent his there. Mine was delivered on the morning of July the +seventh but he did not get his until the same evening when he came to +Cedar Brook from the city. Each of us acted as promptly as we could, but +he went to her before I did, going in that night in his car. + +"It seems incredible that he should have done what he did, dared to take +such a risk. But when he found her cooped up in the rear room of a +tenement, lonely and frightened, he prevailed on her to go out with him +in his motor. He took her for a drive far up the Hudson, not returning +until after midnight. The Rychlovskys, who had missed her and were in a +state of alarm, were furious. When I went there the next day they were +vociferous in their desire to be rid of her, saying she would land them +all in jail. I was her sister; it was up to me, I must find another lair +for her. + +"I had heard of the house in Gayle Street from two girls, art students, +who had once lived there. It was the only place I could think of; and +when I found that the top floor was vacant, I realized that she could be +hidden in one of the rooms and no one suspect it was occupied. I engaged +it and paid the rent, telling the janitor the story of a friend coming +from the West. Then I took the key back to Florry. The Rychlovskys, +pacified by the thought that she would be out of their house, undertook +to furnish her with food. They made her promise that she would keep to +the room, light no gas at night, make no noise, and stay away from the +window. Florry was by this time thoroughly cowed and agreed to +everything. It was through their adroitness that the room passed as +vacant. They visited her in the evening, a time when many people came +and went in the house, bringing in her food and carrying away what was +left in newspapers. They had two extra keys made, one for me, one for +Mr. Price. I brought her money, Mr. Price books and magazines. He saw +her oftener than I did, and gave me news of her. This I asked him to do +by letter. I had once met him by Little Fresh Pond, and another time he +had telephoned. I was afraid of repeating the meeting at the pond--we +had both come upon Miss Rogers and Bebita on the way out--and I dreaded +being overheard at the 'phone. + +"All went well for two weeks, though we were terribly frightened, for +the policeman developed blood-poisoning, and for some time hung between +life and death. Then the Rychlovskys suggested a plan that seemed to me +the only way out of our dangers and difficulties. A friend of theirs, a +woman doctor, was one of a hospital unit sailing from Montreal to +France. This woman, allied with them in their Socialistic activities, +agreed to get Florry into her group as a hospital attendant, take her to +France and look after her. It struck us all as feasible and as lacking +in danger as any plan for her removal could be. The doctor was a woman +of high character who told the Rychlovskys she would keep Florry near +her as the unit was shorthanded and needed all the workers it could get. +The one person who showed no enthusiasm was Florry herself. I knew +perfectly what was the matter--she did not want to leave Chapman Price. +He tried to persuade her, was as worried and anxious as I was. The +situation between them had cleared to a definite understanding--when his +wife had obtained her divorce he would go to France and marry Florry +there. + +"And now I come to the day of the kidnaping, that dreadful, +unforgettable day! + +"The morning before--Thursday--I had seen her and found her in a state +of nervous indecision, weeping and miserable. I knew I was to be in town +with Mrs. Price the next day and told her if I could get time I would +come to her. Mrs. Price had told me how we were to divide the errands +and I realized, if I could finish mine earlier than she expected, I +would have a chance of seeing Florry. I had just been paid my salary and +that, with some money I had saved, I brought with me. My intention was +to give all this to Florry and implore her to go with the hospital unit, +which was scheduled to leave Montreal early the following week. + +"Things worked out as I had hoped. The commissions took less time than +Mrs. Price had calculated and I found that I would be able to spend a +few minutes with Florry. In case Bebita should mention the excursion +downtown, I ordered the driver to drop me at a bookbindery on the corner +of Gale Street. I could easily explain our stop there by saying that I +had left a book to be bound. + +"When I reached the room I found her in a state of hysterical +terror--she said the house was watched. Peeping out through the coarse +lace curtains that veiled the window, she had several times noticed a +man lounging about the corner. At first she had thought nothing of him, +but the day before he had reappeared, and stayed about the block most of +the afternoon covertly watching the entrance and the upper floor. I was +nearly as frightened as she was--the thing was only too probable. There +was no difficulty in getting her to go with the hospital ship. She had +only stayed on in the hope of seeing me and having me tell her what to +do. + +"I gave her the money and told her to wait until nightfall and then slip +out and go to the Rychlovskys. They had promised to help her in any way +they could, and with Bebita waiting in the cab, I couldn't go with her. +It was a simply hideous position to have to leave her that way. But it +was all I could think of--it came so unexpectedly I was stunned by it. + +"When I reached the bookbindery the taxi was gone! Can you imagine what +I felt? I told the truth when I said my first thought was that Bebita +might have played a joke on me. I _did_ think that, for my mind, +confused and crowded with deadly fears, could not take in a new +catastrophe. Then, when I saw Mrs. Price and realized that the child had +mysteriously disappeared, while with _me_, while in _my_ +charge--I--well, I hope I'll never have to live over moments like those +again. I had to keep one fact before my mind--to be quiet, to be cool, +not to do or say anything that might betray Florry. If I'd known what +you suspected, I couldn't have done it. But, of course, I hadn't any +idea then you thought I was implicated. + +"Florry had told me she would communicate with Mr. Price and he would +give me word of her. The telephone message that Miss Rogers tapped was +that word; all I received. It relieved me immensely, I began to feel the +dreadful strain relaxing, I began to think we were on the high road to +safety. And then came that day here in the office. Shall I ever forget +it!" + +She turned to Mrs. Janney: + +"If I had had the least idea of what was going to be done here, I would +have tried to get to you and have thrown myself on your mercy. But I was +completely unsuspecting and unprepared, and with Mr. Whitney as the +judge, representing the law, I did not dare to tell the truth, I _had_ +to lie. + +"As you saw, I lied as well as I could, puzzled at first, not knowing +what you were getting at, to what point it was all leading. Then, when +you caught me with the tapped message, I saw--I guessed how +circumstances had woven a net about me. I realized there was nothing to +be done but let you believe it, let you do what you wanted with me. You +couldn't _make_ me speak, and if I could stay silent till Florry was in +Europe, hidden, lost in the chaos of a country at war, it would be all +right." + +She swept their faces with a glance, half pleading, half triumphant. + +"She is there now--this morning Mr. Price had a cable from her. I have +told this to Mr. Whitney as well as the rest because I have +thought--shut up in O'Malley's flat I had much time for thinking things +out straight and clear--that after my explanation, no one would want, no +one would dare, to bring that unfortunate girl back here to face a +criminal charge. She has had her lesson, she will never forget it, the +man she wounded is back on the force as good as ever. No human being +with a conscience and a heart--" she looked at Whitney--"and you have +both--could want to make her pay more bitterly than she has. She is +safe, under intelligent supervision. She can work, be useful, where her +youth and strength and enthusiasm are needed. I did not trust you +before, Mr. Whitney, but I do now and I know that my trust is not +misplaced." + +A murmur, a concerted sound of agreement, came from her listeners. +Whitney, pushing his chair back from the desk, said gravely: + +"You can rest assured, Miss Maitland, that the matter will die here with +us to-day. As you say, your sister has had her punishment. She will stay +in France of course?" + +"Yes, make her home there, I think. When Mr. Price is free he is to go +over and marry her. He intends to sell his business out and offer his +services to the French government." + +There was a moment of silence, then Mrs. Janney spoke, clearing her +throat, her face flushed with feeling: + +"As you've said, Miss Maitland, none of this would have happened if +you'd seen fit to come to me. But it's no use going over that now--we've +all made mistakes and we're all sorry. What we--the Janneys--want to do +is to be fair, to be just, and now--if it is not too late--to make +amends. The only way you can show your willingness to forget and +forgive, is to come back at once to Grasslands and take things up where +you left them." + +The girl for a moment did not answer, her face reddening with a sudden +embarrassment. Mrs. Janney saw the blush, read it as reluctance and +exclaimed: + +"Oh, Miss Maitland, don't say you refuse. It's as if you wouldn't take +my hand held out in apology, in friendship." + +"No, no"--Esther was obviously distressed--"don't think that, Mrs. +Janney, it's not that. It's that I can't--I've--I've made another +engagement--I'm going to marry Mr. Ferguson." + + + + +CHAPTER XXX--MOLLY'S STORY + + +It's my place to finish, tell the end of the story and straighten it all +out. Some of it's been cleared up clean, with the people on the spot to +give the evidence, some of it we had to work out from what we knew and +what we guessed. Willitts, who was a gamy guy, told his tale from start +to finish, and loved doing it, they said, like an actor who'd rather be +dead in the spotlight than alive in the wings. Larkin's part we had to +put together from what we could get from Bebita and what Mrs. Price gave +up. + +Bebita, the way children do, saw plain and could tell what she saw as +accurate as a phonograph. It made tears come to hear the dear little +thing, so sweet and innocent, making us see that even the crooks she was +with couldn't help but love her. + +When Miss Maitland got out of the taxi at the bookbindery the driver +told the child that he knew her Daddy and could take her round to see +him while Miss Maitland was in the store. He said it wouldn't take long, +that Mr. Price was close by, and they would come back in a few minutes +and pick up Miss Maitland. Bebita was crazy to go, and he started, +giving her a box of chocolates to eat on the way. Of course she never +could tell where he went but it could not have been a long distance, or +Larkin--we all were agreed that he drove the cab--couldn't have reached +the Fifth Avenue house as soon as he did. The place was evidently a flat +over a garage. He told her her father was waiting there, went upstairs +with her, and gave her in charge of a woman called Marion who opened the +door for them. + +During the whole time she was gone she stayed here with Marion, who +every morning assured her her Daddy would come that day. She said Marion +was very good to her, gave her toys and candies, cooked her meals and +played games with her. She cried often and was homesick, and Marion +never scolded her but used to take her in her arms and kiss her and tell +her stories. She never saw the man again until he came to take her away, +but sometimes the bell rang and Marion went out on the stairs and talked +to some one. + +One evening Marion said she was going home; it would be a long drive and +she must be a good girl. Marion dressed her and then gave her a glass of +milk, and kissed her a great many times and cried. Bebita cried too, for +she was sorry to leave Marion, but she wanted to go home. After that the +man came and took her downstairs to the taxi and told her to be very +quiet and she'd soon be back at Grasslands. It was dark and they went +through the city and then she got very sleepy and laid down on the seat. + +No trace of Marion, Larkin's confederate, could be found, and in fact no +especial effort was made to do so. The man was dead, the woman, who had +evidently treated the child with affectionate care, had fled into the +darkness where she belonged. The family, even Mrs. Janney, was contented +to let things drop and make an end. + +When it came to Larkin we had to piece out a good deal. We agreed that +he had started in fair and honest, had tried to make good and had +failed. At just what point he changed we couldn't be sure, but Ferguson +thought it was after Mrs. Price threatened to end the investigation. +Then he realized that his big chance was slipping by, determined to get +something out of it, and hit on the kidnaping. It was easy to see how he +could worm all the data he wanted out of Mrs. Price. From what she said +he'd evidently pumped her at their last meeting in town, finding out +just what her plans were, even to the fact that she intended taking the +extra cab from the rank round the corner. _I_ thought that one thing +might have given him the whole idea. + +When they stopped at the book bindery he heard Miss Maitland tell Bebita +she would be gone a few minutes and knew that was his opportunity. He +took the child to the place he had ready for her, made a quick +change--not more than the shedding of his coat, cap and goggles--and ran +his car into the garage below, which of course he must have rented. Then +he lit out for the Fifth Avenue house, a bit late but ready to report in +case Miss Maitland didn't show up before him. Miss Maitland did--he must +have seen her go in--but he rang just the same, which showed what a +cunning devil he was. + +He must have been surprised when he didn't see anything in the papers, +but after he'd written the first "Clansmen" letter to Mrs. Price she +explained that and it made it smoother sailing for him. Knowing her as +well as he did, he planned the letters to scare her into silence, and +saw before he was through he had her exactly in the state he wanted. The +one place where his plot was weak was that an outsider had to drive the +rescue car. But he had to take a chance somewhere, and this was the best +place. He'd fixed it so neat that even if the outsider had informed on +him, he'd have been wary, and, as Ferguson thought, not shown up at all. + +He'd done it well; as well, we all agreed, as it could be done. What had +beaten him had been no man's cleverness, just something that neither he, +nor you, nor any of us could have foreseen. Ain't there a proverb about +the best laid plans of mice and men slipping up when you least expect +it? It was like the hand of something, that reached out sudden and came +down hard, laid him dead in the moment when the goal was in sight. + +As to Willitts, he was some boy! They found out that he was wanted in +England, well-known there as an expert safe-cracker and notorious jewel +thief. That's where he's gone, to live in a quiet little cell which will +be his home from this time forth. He said he hadn't been in New York +long before he heard of the Janney jewels and went into Mr. Price's +service. But he couldn't do anything while the family were in town. The +safe was right off the pantry--too many people about--and anyway it was +a new one, the finest kind, that would have baffled even his skill. He +would have left discouraged but one day Dixon let drop that the safe at +Grasslands was old-fashioned, put in years before by the former owners, +so he stayed on devoted and faithful. + +At Grasslands he had lots of time to try his hand on the ancient +contraption in the passage. He worked on it until he found the +combination and then he lay low for his opportunity. When the row came +and Mr. Price left, he stayed on with him. It was the best thing to do +as he could run in and out from Cedar Brook seeing the servants, with +whom he was careful to be friendly. + +Before this he'd got wise to the fact that something was up between Miss +Maitland and Mr. Price. He said it was his business to snoop and his +profession had got him into the way of doing it instinctive, but I'd set +it down as coming natural. Anyway he'd found out that there was a secret +between them; he'd surprise them murmuring in the hallways and the +library, quieting down quick if any one came along. He made the same +mistake as the rest of us, thought it was an affair of the heart and +grew mighty curious about it. He didn't explain why he was interested, +but if you asked me I'd say he had blackmail in the back of his head. + +On the afternoon of July the seventh he biked down from Cedar Brook to +take a look round and see how things were progressing. Familiar with the +ways of the house, he knew the family would be out and stole round past +Miss Maitland's study. No one was there, and, curious as he was, he +slipped in to do a little spying--Miss Maitland and Mr. Price separated +would be writing to each other and a letter might throw some light on +the darkness. + +He rummaged about among the papers but found nothing. Scattered over the +desk were bits of the trimming Miss Maitland had been sewing on; a pile +of the little rosebuds was lying on the top of her work basket. Reaching +over toward a bunch of letters he upset the basket, and, scared, he +swept up the contents with his handkerchief, putting them back as quick +as he could. This was the way he explained the presence of the rose in +the safe. He was shocked at any one thinking that he had tried to throw +suspicion on such a fine young lady. That night, taking the jewels, hot +and nervous, his glasses had blurred the way they do when your face +perspires. He had whisked out his handkerchief to wipe them, and no +doubt a rosebud lodged in the folds had fallen to the ground. Mr. +Ferguson didn't believe this--he thought the rose _was_ a plant--but I +_did_. It was one of those queer, unexpected things that will happen and +that, for me, always puts a crimp in circumstantial evidence. + +After that he went round to the kitchen and heard of the general sortie +for that evening. Then he knew the time had come. He biked back to Cedar +Brook, saw Mr. Price, and went to his lodgings. Here he found his +landlady's child sick with croup and offered to go for the doctor, whose +house was not far from Berkeley. It fitted in just right, for if there +was any inquiry into his movements he could furnish a good reason why he +was late at the movies. Before he got to Grasslands he hid his wheel by +the roadside and took a short cut through the woods, lying low on the +edge of them until he saw the kitchen lights go out. Crossing the lawn, +the dogs ran at him barking, then got his scent and quieted down. At the +balcony he slipped off his rain coat, put on sneakers, unlocked the +front door with Mr. Price's key, and crept in. The job didn't take him +ten minutes; just as he finished he saw the box of Mr. Janney's cigars +and helped himself to one. He rubbed off his finger prints with an acid +used for that purpose, left the broken chair just where it was and +departed. + +In the woods he lit the cigar, carelessly throwing the band on the +ground. Fifteen minutes later he was at the movies with the Grasslands +help. When he saw in the papers that a light had been seen by the safe +at one-thirty every fear he had died, for at that time he was back at +Cedar Brook helping his landlady look after the sick child. + +He was too smart a crook to disappear right on top of the robbery, and +hung around saying he was looking for another place. He met up with +Larkin but at first didn't know he was a detective. When the offer came +from Ferguson he took it, intending to stay a while, then say his folks +in the old country needed him and slip away to Spain. It was the day +after he'd accepted Ferguson's offer that he learned what Larkin was, +and saw that both he and the Janneys had their suspicions of Chapman +Price. This disturbed him, but he couldn't throw up the job he'd just +taken without exciting remark. To be ready, however, he dug up the +jewels--he'd buried them in the woods--and put them handy under the +flooring of his room. + +One day, looking over Ferguson's things, he came on the cigar band in +the box on the bureau. It gave him a jar, for he couldn't see why it was +put there. He'd heard from the servants about Ferguson and Miss Maitland +walking home that night through the woods and began to wonder if maybe +they'd found the band. The thought ruffled him up considerably, and then +he put it out of his mind, telling himself it was one from a cigar +Ferguson had brought from Grasslands and smoked in his room. +Nevertheless, to be on the safe side, he threw it away, very much on the +alert, as you may guess. + +It wasn't a week later that he had the interview with Ferguson about the +band. Then he saw by the young man's manner and words why the little +crushed circle of paper had a meaning of its own, and knew that the time +had come to vanish. He still felt safe enough to do this without haste, +not rousing any suspicion by a too sudden departure. His opportunity +came quickly--on Friday morning he heard Ferguson tell the butler that +he was going to town and would be away for a day or two; by the time he +came back his valet would be far afield. + +Right after Ferguson's departure he put the jewels in a bag, and, +telling the butler the boss had given him the day and night off, +prepared to leave. He was crossing the hall when the telephone rang--my +message--and being wary of danger, answered it. It was only a lady +asking for Mr. Ferguson, and, calm and steady as his voice had made me, +started out for the station. Mice and men again!--I was the mouse this +time. Gracious, what a battered mouse I was! + +Well--that's all. The tangled threads are straightened out and the word +"End" goes at the bottom of this page. I'm glad to write it, glad to be +once again where you can say what you think, and talk to people like +they were harmless human beings without any dark secrets in their pasts +or presents, and, Oh, Gee, how glad I am to be home! Back in my own +little hole, back where there's only one servant and she a coon, back +where I'm familiar with the food and know how to eat it, and blessedest +of all, back to my own true husband, who thinks there's no sun or moon +or stars when I'm out of the house. I'm going to get a new rug for the +parlor, a fur-trimmed winter suit, a standing lamp with a Chinese shade, +a pair of skates--oh, dear, I'm at the bottom of the page and there's no +room for "End," but I _must_ squeeze in that I got that reward--Mrs. +Janney said I'd earned every penny of it--and a wrist watch with a +circle of diamonds round it from Dick Ferguson, and--oh, pshaw! if I +keep on I'll never stop, so here goes, on a separate line + + + + + + + THE END + + + BOOKS BY GERALDINE BONNER + + _Miss Maitland, Private Secretary_ + _Treasure and Trouble Therewith_ + _The Girl at Central_ + _The Black Eagle Mystery_ + + + + + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISS MAITLAND PRIVATE SECRETARY + *** + + + + + + + +A Word from Project Gutenberg + + +We will update this book if we find any errors. + +This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/35504 + +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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