The Mardi Gras Mystery

by H. Bedford-Jones

  CHAPTER IV

  _Callers_

  The house in which Lucie Ledanois lived had been her mother's; thefurniture and other things in it had been her mother's; the two negroservants, who spoke only the Creole French patois, had been hermother's. It was a small house, but very beautiful inside. The exteriorbetrayed a lack of paint or the money with which to have painting done.

  The Ledanois family, although distantly connected with others such asthe Maillards, had sent forth its final bud of fruition in the girlLucie. Her mother had died while she was yet an infant, and through theyears she had companioned her father, an invalid during the latter days.He had never been a man to count dollars or costs, and to a large extenthe had outworn himself and the family fortunes in a vain search forhealth.

  With Lucie he had been in Europe at the outbreak of war, and had comehome to America only to die shortly afterward. Once deprived of his finerecklessness, the girl had found her affairs in a bad tangle. Under theguardianship of Maillard the tangle had been somewhat resolved andsimplified, but even Maillard would appear to have made mistakes, and oflate Lucie had against her will suspected something amiss in the matterof these mistakes.

  It was natural, then, that she should take Jachin Fell into herconfidence. Maillard had been her guardian, but it was to Fell that shehad always come with her girlish cares and troubles, during even thelifetime of her father. She had known Fell all her life; she had met himin strange places, both at home and abroad. She entertained awell-grounded suspicion that Jachin Fell had loved her mother, and thisone fact lay between them, never mentioned but always there, like a bondof faith and kindliness.

  At precisely three o'clock of the Sunday afternoon Jachin Fell rang thedoorbell and Lucie herself admitted him. She ushered him into theparlour that was restful with its quiet brasses and old rosewood.

  "Tell me quickly, Uncle Jachin!" eagerly exclaimed the girl. "Did youactually see the Midnight Masquer last night? I didn't know untilafterward that he had really been downstairs and had robbed----"

  "I saw him, my dear," and the little gray man smiled. There was morewarmth to his smile than usual just now. Perhaps it was a reflectionfrom the eager vitality which so shone in the eyes of Lucie. "I saw him,yes."

  A restful face was hers--not beautiful at first glance; a little toostrong for beauty one would say. The deep gray eyes were level and quietand wide apart, and on most occasions were quite inscrutable. They werenow filled with a quick eagerness as they rested upon Jachin Fell. Luciecalled him uncle, but not as she called Joseph Maillard uncle; here wasno relationship, no formal affectation of relationship, but a purelyabiding trust and friendship.

  Jachin Fell had done more for Lucie than she herself knew or would know;without her knowledge he had quietly taken care of her finances to anappreciable extent. Between them lay an affection that was very real.Lucie, better than most, knew the extraordinary capabilities of thislittle gray man; yet not even Lucie guessed a tenth of the characterthat lay beneath his surface. To her he was never reserved or secretive.Nonetheless, she touched sometimes an impenetrable wall that seemed everpresent within him.

  "You saw him?" repeated the girl, quickly. "What was he like? Do youknow who he is?"

  "Certainly I know," replied Fell, still smiling at her.

  "Oh! Then who is he?"

  "Softly, softly, young lady! I know him, but even to you I dare notbreathe his name until I obtain some direct evidence. Let us call himMr. X., after the approved methods of romance, and I shall expound whatI know."

  He groped in his vest pocket. Lucie sprang up, bringing a smoking standfrom the corner of the room to his chair. She held a match to his ElRey, and then curled up on a Napoleon bed and watched him intently whilehe spoke.

  "The bandit did not enter the house during the evening, nor did heleave, nor was he found in the house afterward," he said, tonelessly."So, incredible as it may appear, he was one of the guests. This Mr. X.came to the dance wearing the aviator's costume, or most of it,underneath his masquerade costume. When he was ready to act, he doffedhis outer costume, appeared as the Midnight Masquer, effected hispurpose, then calmly donned his outer costume again and resumed hisplace among the guests. You understand?

  "Well, then! Maillard yesterday received a note from the Masquer,brazenly stating that he intended to call during the evening. I havethat note. It was written with an extremely hard lead pencil, such asfew men carry, because it does not easily make very legible writing.Last night I asked Mr. X. for a pencil, and he produced one with anextra hard lead--mentioning that he had borrowed it from Bob Maillard,as indeed he had."

  "What! Surely, you don't mean----"

  "Of course I don't. Mr. X. is very clever, that's all. Here is what tookplace last night. Mr. X. brought us another note from the Masquer,saying that he had found it pinned to the library door. As a matter offact, he had written it on a leaf torn from his notebook. I took thenote from him, observing at the time that the paper had no pin holes.Probably, Mr. X. saw that there was something amiss; he presently wentback downstairs, took the remainder of the torn leaf from his notebook,and pinned it to the door. A little later, I met him and mentioned thelack of pin holes; he calmly referred me to the piece on the door,saying that he had merely torn off the note without removing the pins.You follow me?"

  "Of course," murmured the girl, her eyes wide in fascinated interest."And he knew that you guessed him to be the Masquer?"

  "He suspected me, I think," said Fell, mildly. "It is understood thatyou will not go about tracing these little clues? I do not wish todisclose his identity, even to your very discreet brain----"

  "Don't be silly, Uncle Jachin!" she broke in. "You know I'll do nothingof the sort. Go on, please! Did you find the airplane?"

  "Yes." Jachin Fell smiled drily. "I was thinking of that as I left thehouse and came to the line of waiting automobiles. A word with one ofthe outside detectives showed me that one of the cars in the street hadbeen testing its engine about midnight. I found that the car belonged toMr. X.

  "How simple, Lucie, and how very clever! The chauffeur worked a powerfulmotor with a muffler cutout at about the time Mr. X., inside the house,was making his appearance. It scarcely sounded like an airplane motor,yet frightened and startled, people would imagine that it did. Thusarose the legend that the Midnight Masquer came and departed by means ofairplane--a theory aided ingeniously by his costume. Well, that is all Iknow or suspect, my dear Lucie! And now----"

  "Now, I suppose," said the girl, thoughtfully, "you'll put that awfulCreole of yours on the track of Mr. X.? Ben Chacherre is a goodchauffeur, and he's amusing enough--but he's a bloodhound! I don'twonder that he used to be a criminal. Even if you have rescued him froma life of crime, you haven't improved his looks."

  "Exactly--Ben is at work," assented Jachin Fell. "The gentleman undersuspicion is very prominent. To accuse him without proof would be utterfolly. To catch him _in flagrante delicto_ will be difficult. So, I amin no haste. He will not disappear, believe me, and something may turnup at any moment to undo him. Besides, I can as yet discover no motivefor his crimes, since he is quite well off financially."

  "Gambling," suggested the girl.

  "I cannot find that he has lost any considerable sums. Well, no matter!Now that I have fully unbosomed myself, my dear, it is your turn."

  "All right, Uncle Jachin." Lucie took a large morocco case from thechair beside her, and extended it. "You lent me these things to wearlast night, and I----"

  "No, no," intervened Fell. "I gave them to you, my dear--in fact, Ibought them for you two years ago, and kept them until now! You haveworn them; they are yours, and you become them better than even did poorQueen Hortense! So say no more. I trust that Mrs. Maillard was righteousand envious?"

  "She was disagreeable," said Lucie. She leaned forward and imprinted akiss upon the cheek of the little gray man. "There! that is all thethanks I can give you, dear uncle; the gift makes me
very happy, andI'll not pretend otherwise. Only, I feel as though I had no right towear them--they're so wonderful!"

  "Nonsense! You can do anything you want to, as Eliza said when shecrossed the ice. But all this isn't why you summoned me here, you bundleof mystery! What bothered you last night, or rather, who?"

  Lucie laughed. "There was a Franciscan who tried to be very mysterious,and to read my mind. He talked about oil, about a grasping, hard man,and mentioned you as my friend. Then he warned me against a proposalthat Bob might make; and sure enough, Bob did propose to buy what landis left to me on Bayou Terrebonne, saying he'd persuade his oil companythat there was oil on it, and that they'd buy or lease it. I told himno. The Franciscan, afterward, proved to be Henry Gramont; I wondered ifyou had mentioned----"

  "Heaven forbid!" exclaimed Mr. Fell, piously. "I never even met Gramontuntil last night! Do you like him?"

  "Very much." The girl's eyes met his frankly. "Do you?"

  "Very much," said Jachin Fell.

  Lucie's gray eyes narrowed, searched his face. "I'm almost able to tellwhen you're lying," she observed, calmly. "You said that a trifle toohastily, Uncle Jachin. Why don't you like him?"

  Fell laughed, amused. "Perhaps I have a prejudice against foreignnobles, Lucie. Our own aristocracy is bad enough, but----"

  "He's discarded all that. He was never French except in name."

  "You speak as though you'd known him for some time. Have you had secretsfrom me?"

  "I have!" laughter dimpled in the girl's face. "For years and years!When I was in New York with father, before the war, we met him; he wasvisiting in Newport with college friends. Then, you know that father andI were in France when the war broke out--father was ill and almosthelpless at the time, you remember. Gramont came to Paris to serve withhis regiment, and met us there. He helped us get away, procured realmoney for us, got us passage to New York. He knows lots of our friends,and I've always been deeply grateful to him for his assistance then.

  "We've corresponded quite frequently during the war," she pursued. "Imentioned him several times after we got home from France, but youprobably failed to notice the name. It's only since he came to NewOrleans that I really kept any secrets from you; this time, I wanted tofind out if you liked him."

  Jachin Fell nodded slowly. His face was quite innocent of expression.

  "Yes, yes," he said. "Yes--of course. He's a geologist or engineer, Ithink?"

  "Both, and a good one. He's a stockholder in Bob Maillard's oil company,and I think he's come here to stay. Well, about last night--he probablyguessed at some of my private affairs; I've written or spoken ratherfrankly, perhaps. Also, Bob may have blabbed to him. Bob stilldrinks--prohibition has not hit _him_ very hard!"

  "No," agreed Fell, gravely. "Unfortunately, no. Lucie, I've discovered amost important fact. Joseph Maillard did not own any stock in the BayouOil Company at the time your land was sold them by him, and he had nointerest at all in the real estate concern that bought your St. Landryswamplands and made a fortune off them. We have really blamed him mostunjustly."

  For a moment there was silence between them.

  "We need not mince matters," pursued Fell, slowly. "Maillard has noscruples and no compassion; all the same, I am forced to the belief thathe has maintained your interest uprightly, and that his mistakes wereonly errors. I do not believe that he has profited in the least fromyou. Two small fortunes were swept out of your grip when he sold thoselands; yet they had been worthless, and he had good offers for them. Hisinvestments in the companies concerned were made afterward, and I amcertain he sold the lands innocently."

  Lucie drew a deep breath.

  "I am glad you have said this," she returned, simply. "It's been hardfor me to think that Uncle Joseph had taken advantage of me; I simplycouldn't make myself believe it. I think that he honestly likes me, asfar as he permits himself to like any one."

  "He'd not loan you money on it," said Fell. "Friendship isn't a tangiblesecurity with him. And a girl is never secure, as Eliza said when shecrossed the ice."

  "Well, who really did profit by my loss? Any one?"

  Fell's pale gray eyes twinkled, then cleared in their usually wideinnocence.

  "My dear Lucie, is there one person in this world to whose faults JosephMaillard is deliberately blind--one person to whose influence he is everopen--one person to whom he would refuse nothing, in whom he wouldpardon everything, of whom he would never believe any evil report?"

  "You mean----" Lucie drew a quick breath, "Bob?"

  "Yes, I mean Bob. That he has profited by your loss I am not yet in aposition to say; but I suspect it. He has his father's cupidity withouthis father's sense of honour to restrain him. When I have finished withthe Masquer, I shall take up his trail."

  Jachin Fell rose. "Now I must be off, my dear. By the way, if I haveneed of you in running down the Masquer, may I call upon your services?"

  "Certainly! I'd love to help, Uncle Jachin! We'd be real detectives?"

  "Almost." Jachin Fell smiled slightly. "Will you dine with us to-morrowevening, Lucie? My mother commanded me to bring you as soon aspossible----"

  "Oh, your mother!" exclaimed the girl, contritely. "I was so absorbed inthe Masquer that I forgot to ask after her. How is she?"

  "Quite as usual, thank you. I presume that you'll attend Comus with theMaillards?"

  "Yes. I'll come to-morrow night gladly, Uncle Jachin."

  "And we'll take a look at the Proteus ball afterward, if you like. I'llsend Ben Chacherre for you with the car, if you're not afraid of him."

  Lucie looked gravely into the smiling eyes of Fell.

  "I'm not exactly afraid of him," she responded, soberly, "but there issomething about him that I can't like. I'm sorry that you're trying toregenerate him, in a way."

  Fell shrugged lightly. "All life is an effort, little one! Well,good-bye."

  Jachin Fell left the house at three-forty. Twenty minutes later the bellrang again. Lucie sent one of the servants to admit Henry Gramont; shekept him waiting a full fifteen minutes before she appeared, and thenshe made no apologies whatever for the delay.

  Not that Gramont minded waiting; he deemed it a privilege to linger inthis house! He loved to study the place, so reflective of its owner. Heloved the white Colonial mantel that surrounded the fireplace,perpetually alight, with its gleaming sheen of old brasses, and theglittering fire-set to one side. The very air of the place, theatmosphere that it breathed, was sweet to him.

  The Napoleon bed that filled the bow window, with its pillows and softcoverings; the inlaid walnut cabinet made by Sheraton, with its quaintlycurved glasses that reflected the old-time curios within; the tilttables, the rosewood chairs, the rugs, bought before the oriental rugmarket was flooded with machine-made Senna knots--about everything herehad an air of comfort, of long use, of restfulness. It was not the sortof place built up, raw item by raw item, by the colour-frenzied hands ofdecorators. It was the sort of place that decorators strive desperatelyto imitate, and cannot.

  When Lucie made her appearance, Gramont bent over her hand and addressedher in French.

  "You are charming as ever, Shining One! And in years to come you will bestill more charming. That is the beauty of having a name taken directfrom the classics and bestowed as a good fairy's gift----"

  "Thank you, monsieur--but you have translated my name at least twentytimes, and I am weary of hearing it," responded Lucie, laughingly.

  "Poor taste, mademoiselle, to grow weary of such beauty!"

  "Not of the name, but of your exegesis upon it. Why should I not bedispleased? Last night you were positively rude, and now you decry mytaste! Did you leave all your manners in France, M. le prince?"

  "Some of them, yes--and all that prince stuff with them." Smiling as hedropped into English, Gramont glanced about the room, and his eyessoftened.

  "This is a lovey and loveable home of yours, Lucie!" he exclaimed,gravely. "So few homes are worthy the name; so few have in them theintimate air of use
and friendliness--why are so many furnished frombargain sales? This place is touched with repose and sweetness; to comeand sit here is a privilege. It is like being in another world, afterall the money striving and the dollar madness of the city."

  "Oh!" The girl's gaze searched him curiously. "I hope you're not goingto take the fine artistic pose that it is a crime to make money?"

  Gramont laughed.

  "Not much! I want to make money myself; that's one reason I'm in NewOrleans. Still, you cannot deny that there is a craze about the eternalclutching after dollars. I can't make the dollar sign the big thing inlife, Lucie. You couldn't, either."

  She frowned a little.

  "You seem to have the European notion that all Americans are dollarchasers!"

  He shrugged his shoulders slightly. His harshly lined face was verystrong; one sensed that its harshness had come from the outside--fromhunger, from hardship and privations, from suffering strongly borne. Hehad not gone through the war unscathed, this young man who had tossedaway a princely "de" in order to become plain Henry Gramont, Americancitizen.

  "In a sense, yes; why not?" he answered. "I am an American. I am adollar chaser, and not ashamed of it. I am going into business here.Once it is a success, I shall go on; I shall see America, I shall cometo know this whole country of mine, all of it! I have been a month inNew Orleans--do you know, a strange thing happened to me only a few daysafter I arrived here!"

  With her eyes she urged him on, and he continued gravely:

  "In France I met a man, an American sergeant named Hammond. It was justat the close of things. We had adjoining cots at Nice----"

  "Ah!" she exclaimed, quickly. "I remember, you wrote about him--the manwho had been wounded in both legs! Did he get well? You never said."

  "I never knew until I came here," answered Gramont. "One night, not longafter I had got established in my pension on Burgundy Street, a mantried to rob me. It was this same man, Hammond; we recognized each otheralmost at once.

  "I took him home with me and learned his story. He had come back toAmerica only to find his wife dead from influenza, his home broken up,his future destroyed. He drifted to New Orleans, careless of whathappened to him. He flung himself desperately into a career of burglaryand pillage. Well, I gave Hammond a job; he is my chauffeur. You wouldnever recognize him as the same man now! I am very proud of hisfriendship."

  "That was well said." Lucie nodded her head quickly. "I shan't call youM. Le prince any more--unless you offend again."

  He smiled, reading her thought. "I try not to be a snob, eh? Well, whatI'm driving at is this: I want to know this country of mine, to see itwith clear, unprejudiced eyes. We hide our real shames and exalt ourfalse ones. Why should we be ashamed of chasing the dollar? So long asthat is a means to the end of happiness, it's all right. But there aresome men who see it as an end alone, who can set no _finis_ to theirwork except the dollar dropping into their pouch. Such a man is yourrelative, Joseph Maillard--I say it without offence."

  Lucie nodded, realizing that he was driving at some deeper thing, andheld her peace.

  "You realize the fact, eh?" Gramont smiled faintly. "I do not wish tooffend you, and I shall therefore refrain from saying all that is in mymind. But you have not hesitated to intimate very frankly that you arenot wealthy. Some time ago, if you recall, you wrote me how you had justmissed wealth through having sold some land. I have taken the liberty oflooking up that deal to some extent, and I have suspected that youruncle had some interest in putting the sale through----"

  The gray eyes of the girl flashed suddenly.

  "Henry Gramont! Are my family affairs to be an open book to the world?"A slight flush, perhaps of anger, perhaps of some other emotion, rose inthe girl's cheeks. "Do you realize that you are intruding mostunwarrantably into my private matters?"

  "Unwarrantably?" Gramont's eyes held her gaze steadily. "Do you reallymean to use that word?"

  "I do, most certainly!" answered Lucie with spirit. "I don't think yourealize just what the whole thing tends toward----"

  "Oh, yes I do! Quite clearly." Gramont's cool, level tone conquered herindignation. "I see that you are orphaned, and that your uncle was yourguardian, and executed questionable deals which lost money for you.Come, that's brutally frank--but it's true! We are friends of longstanding; not intimate friends, perhaps, and yet I think very goodfriends. I am most certainly not ashamed to say that when I had theoccasion to look out for your interests I was very glad of the chance."

  Gramont paused, but she did not speak. He continued after a moment:

  "You had intimated to me, perhaps without meaning to do so, something ofthe situation. I came here to New Orleans and became involved in somedealings with your cousin, Bob Maillard. I believed, and I believe now,that in your heart you have some suspicion of your uncle in regard tothose transactions in land. Therefore, I took the trouble to look intothe thing to a slight extent. Shall I tell you what I have discovered?"

  Lucie Ledanois gazed at him, her lips compressed. She liked this newmanner of his, this firm and resolute gravity, this harshness. Itbrought out his underlying character very well.

  "If you please, Henry," she murmured very meekly. "Since you have thrustyourself into my private affairs, I think I should at least get whateverbenefit I can!"

  "Exactly. Why not?" He made a grave gesture of assent. "Well, then, Ihave discovered that your uncle appears to be honestly at fault in thematter----"

  "Thanks for this approval of my family," she murmured.

  "And," continued Gramont, imperturbably, "that your suspicions of himwere groundless. But, on the other hand, something new has turned upabout which I wish to speak--but about which I must speak delicately."

  "Be frank, my dear Henry--even brutal! Speak, by all means."

  "Very well. Has Bob Maillard offered to buy your remaining land on theBayou Terrebonne?"

  She started slightly. So it was to this that he had been leading up allthe while!

  "He broached the subject last night," she answered. "I dismissed it forthe time."

  "Good!" he exclaimed with boyish vigour. "Good! I warned you in time,then! If you will permit me, I must advise you not to part with thatland--not even for a good offer. This week, immediately Mardi Gras isover, I am going to inspect that land for the company; it is BobMaillard's company, you know.

  "If there's any chance of finding oil there, I shall first see you, thenadvise the company. You can hold out for your fair share of the mineralrights, instead of selling the whole thing. You'll get it! Landownersaround here are not yet wise to the oil game, but they'll soon learn."

  "You would betray your business associates to help me?" she asked,curious to hear his reply. A slow flush crept into his cheeks.

  "Certainly not! But I would not betray you to help my business friends.Is my unwarrantable intrusion forgiven?"

  She nodded brightly. "You are put on probation, sir. You're in Bob'scompany?"

  "Yes." Gramont frowned. "I invested perhaps too hastily--but no matternow. I have the car outside, Lucie; may I have the pleasure of takingyou driving?"

  "Did you bring that chauffeur?"

  "Yes," and he laughed at her eagerness.

  "Good! I accept--because I must see that famoussoldier-bandit-chauffeur. If you'll wait, I'll be ready in a minute."

  She hurried from the room, a snatch of song on her lips. Gramont smiledas he waited.