CHAPTER X. THE SECRET OF MR. BLAKE'S STUDIO
"Mr. Blake is at dinner, sir, with company, but I will call him if yousay so."
"No," returned Mr. Gryce; "show us into some room where we can becomfortable and we will wait till he has finished."
The servant bowed, and stepping forward down the hall, opened the doorof a small and cosy room heavily hung with crimson curtains. "I willlet him know that you are here," said he, and vanished towards thedining-room.
"I doubt if Mr. Blake will enjoy the latter half of his bill of fare asmuch as the first," said I, drawing up one of the luxurious arm-chairsto the side of my principal. "I wonder if he will break away from hisguests and come in here?"
"No; if I am not mistaken we shall find Mr. Blake a man of nerve. Not amuscle of his face will show that he is disturbed."
"Well," said I, "I dread it."
Mr. Gryce looked about on the gorgeous walls and the rich old fashionedfurniture that surrounded him, and smiled one of his grimmest smiles.
"Well, you may," said he.
The next instant a servant stood in the doorway, bearing to our greatastonishment, a tray well set with decanter and glasses.
"Mr. Blake's compliments, gentlemen," said he, setting it down on thetable before us. "He hopes you will make yourselves at home and he willsee you as soon as possible."
The humph! of Mr. Gryce when the servant had gone would have done yoursoul good, also the look he cast at the pretty Dresden Shepherdess onthe mantel-piece, as I reached out my hand towards the decanter. Somehowit made me draw back.
"I think we had better leave his wine alone," said he.
And for half an hour we sat there, the wine untouched between us,listening alternately to the sound of speech-making and laughter thatcame from the dining-room, and the solemn ticking of the clock as itcounted out the seconds on the mantel-piece. Then the guests came infrom the table, filing before us past the open door on their way tothe parlors. They were all gentlemen of course--Mr. Blake never invitedladies to his house--and gentlemen of well known repute. The dinner hadbeen given in honor of a certain celebrated statesman, and the characterof his guests was in keeping with that of the one thus complimented.
As they went by us gaily indulging in the jokes and light banter withwhich such men season a social dinner, I saw Mr. Gryce's face grow soberby many a shade; and when in the midst of it all, we heard the voiceof Mr. Blake rise in that courteous and measured tone for which itis distinguished, I saw him reach forward and grasp his cane with anuneasiness I had never seen displayed by him before. But when some timelater, the guests having departed, the dignified host advanced with someapology to where we were, I never beheld a firmer look on Mr. Gryce'sface than that with which he rose and confronted him. Mr. Blake's ownhad not more character in it.
"You have called at a rather inauspicious time, Mr. Gryce," said thelatter, glancing at the card which he held in his hand. "What may yourbusiness be? Something to do with politics, I suppose."
I surveyed the man in amazement. Was this great politician stoopingto act a part, or had he forgotten our physiognomies as completely asappeared?
"Our business is not politics," replied Mr. Gryce; "but fully asimportant. May I request the doors be closed?"
I thought Mr. Blake looked surprised, but he immediately stepped to thedoor and shut it. Then coming back, he looked at Mr. Gryce more closelyand a change took place in his manner.
"I think I have seen you before," said he.
Mr. Gryce bowed with just the suspicion of a smile. "I have had thehonor of consulting you before in this very house," observed he.
A look of full recognition passed over the dignified countenance of theman before us.
"I remember," said he, shrugging his shoulders in the old way. "You areinterested in some servant girl or other who ran away from this house aweek or so ago. Have you found her?" This with no apparent concern.
"We think we have," rejoined Mr. Gryce with some solemnity. "The rivergives up its prey now and then, Mr. Blake."
Still only that look of natural surprise.
"Indeed! You do not mean to say she has drowned herself? I am sorry forthat, a girl who had once lived in my house. What trouble could she havehad to drive her to such an act?"
Mr. Gryce advanced a step nearer the gentleman.
"That is what we have come here to learn," said he with a deliberationthat yet was not lacking in the respect due to a man so universallyesteemed as Mr. Blake. "You who have seen her so lately ought to be ableto throw some light upon the subject at least."
"Mr.--" he again glanced at the card, "Mr. Gryce,--excuse me--I believeI told you when you were here before that I had no remembrance of thisgirl at all. That if such a person was in my house I did not know it,and that all questions put to me on that subject would be so much laborthrown away."
Mr. Gryce bowed. "I remember," said he. "I was not alluding to anyconnection you may have had with the girl in this house, but to theinterview you were seen to have with her on the corner of Broome Streetsome days ago. You had such an interview, did you not?"
A flush, deep as it was sudden, swept over Mr. Blake's usually unmovedcheek. "You are transgressing sir," said he and stopped. Though a man ofintense personal pride, he had but little of that quality called temper,or perhaps if he had, thought it unwise to display it on this occasion."I saw and spoke to a girl on the corner of that street some days ago,"he went on more mildly, "but that she was the one who lived here,I neither knew at the time nor feel willing to believe now withoutpositive proof." Then in a deep ringing tone the stateliness of which itwould be impossible to describe, he inquired, "Have the city authoritiespresumed to put a spy on my movements, that the fact of my speaking toa poor forsaken creature on the corner of the street should be not onlynoted but remembered?"
"Mr. Blake," observed Mr. Gryce, and I declare I was proud of mysuperior at that moment, "no man who is a true citizen and aChristian should object to have his steps followed, when by his ownthoughtlessness, perhaps, he has incurred a suspicion which demands it."
"And do you mean to say that I have been followed," inquired he,clenching his hand and looking steadily, but with a blanching cheek,first at Mr. Gryce then at me.
"It was indispensable," quoth that functionary gently.
The outraged gentleman riveted his gaze upon me. "In town and out oftown?" demanded he.
I let Mr. Gryce reply. "It is known that you have lately sought to visitthe Schoenmakers," said he.
Mr. Blake drew a deep breath, cast his eyes about the handsome apartmentin which we were, let them rest for a moment upon a portrait that gracedone side of the wall, and which was I have since learned a picture ofhis father, and slowly drew forward a chair. "Let me hear what yoursuspicions are," said he.
I noticed Mr. Gryce colored at this; he had evidently been met in adifferent way from what he expected. "Excuse me," said he, "I do not sayI have any suspicions; my errand is simply to notify you of the death ofthe girl you were seen to speak with, and to ask whether or not youcan give us any information that can aid us in the matter before thecoroner."
"You know I have not. If I have been as closely followed as you say, youmust know why I spoke to that girl and others, why I went to the houseof the Schoenmakers and--Do you know?" he suddenly inquired.
Mr. Gryce was not the man to answer such a question as that. He eyed therich signet ring that adorned the hand of the gentleman before him andsuavely smiled. "I am ready to listen to any explanations," said he.
Mr. Blake's haughty countenance became almost stern. "You consider youhave a right to demand them; let me hear why."
"Well," said Mr. Gryce with a change of tone, "you shall. Unprofessionalas it is, I will tell you why I, a member of the police force, dareenter the house of such a man as you are, and put him the questions Ihave concerning his domestic affairs. Mr. Blake, imagine yourself ina detective's office. A woman comes in, the housekeeper of a respectedcitizen, and informs us that a
girl employed by her as seamstress hasdisappeared in a very unaccountable way from her master's housethe night before; in fact been abducted as she thinks from certainevidences, through the window. Her manner is agitated, her appeal forassistance urgent, though she acknowledges no relationship to the girlor expresses any especial cause for her interest beyond that of commonhumanity. 'She must be found,' she declares, and hints that any sumnecessary will be forthcoming, though from what source after her ownpittance is expended she does not state. When asked if her master hasno interest in the matter, she changes color and puts us off. He nevernoticed his servants, left all such concerns to her, etc.; but showsfear when a proposition is made to consult him. Next imagine yourselfwith the detectives in that gentleman's house. You enter the girl'sroom; what is the first thing you observe? Why that it is not only oneof the best in the house, but that it is conspicuous for its comforts ifnot for its elegancies. More than that, that there are books of poetryand history lying around, showing that the woman who inhabited it wasabove her station; a fact which the housekeeper is presently brought toacknowledge. You notice also that the wild surmise of her abduction bymeans of the window, has some ground in appearance, though the factthat she went with entire unwillingness is not made so apparent. Thehousekeeper, however, insists in a way that must have had some specialknowledge of the girl's character or circumstances to back it, that shenever went without compulsion; a statement which the torn curtainsand the track of blood over the roof of the extension, would seem toemphasize. A few other facts are made known. First, a pen-knife ispicked up from the grass plot in the yard beneath, showing with whatinstrument the wound was inflicted, whose drippings made those marks ofblood alluded to. It was a pearl-handled knife belonging to the writingdesk found open on her table, and its frail and dainty character provedindisputably, that it was employed by the girl herself, and that againstmanifest enemies; no man being likely to snatch up any such puny weaponfor the purpose either of offence or defence. That these enemies weretwo and were both men, was insisted upon by Mrs. Daniels who overheardtheir voices the night before.
"Mr. Blake, such facts as these arouse curiosity, especially whenthe master of the house being introduced upon the scene, he fails tomanifest common human interest, while his housekeeper betrays in everyinvoluntary gesture and expression she makes use of, her horror if nother fear of his presence, and her relief at his departure. Yes," heexclaimed, unheeding the sudden look here cast him by Mr. Blake, "andcuriosity begets inquiry, and inquiry elucidated further facts such asthese, that the mysterious master of the house was in his garden at thehour of the girl's departure, was even looking through the bars of hisgate when she, having evidently escaped from her captors, came back withevery apparent desire to reenter her home, but seeing him, betrayed anunreasonable amount of fear and fled back even into the very arms ofthe men she had endeavored to avoid. Did you speak sir?" asked Mr. Grycesuddenly stopping, with a sly look at his left boot tip.
Mr. Blake shook his head. "No," said he shortly, "go on." But that lastremark of Mr. Gryce had evidently made its impression.
"Inquiry revealed, also, two or three other interesting facts. First,that this gentleman qualified though he was to shine in ladies' society,never obtruded himself there, but employed his leisure time instead, inwalking the lower streets of the city, where he was seen more thanonce conversing with certain poor girls at street corners and in blindalleys. The last one he talked with, believed from her characteristicsto be the same one that was abducted from his house--"
"Hold there," said Mr. Blake with some authority in his tone, "there youare mistaken; that is impossible."
"Ah, and why?"
"The girl you allude to had bright golden hair, something which thewoman who lived in my house did not possess."
"Indeed. I thought you had never noticed the woman who sewed for you,sir,--did not know how she looked?"
"I should have noticed her if she had had such hair as the girl youspeak of."
Mr. Gryce smiled and opened his pocketbook.
"There is a sample of her hair, sir," said he, taking out a thin strandof brilliant hair and showing it to the gentleman before him. "Brightyou see, and golden as that of the unfortunate creature you talked withthe other night."
Mr. Blake stooped forward and lifted it with a hand that visiblytrembled. "Where did you get this?" asked he at last, clenching it tohis breast with sudden passion.
"From out of the comb which the girl had been using the night before."
The imperious man flung it hastily from him.
"We waste our time," said he, looking Mr. Gryce intently in the face."All that you have said does not account for your presence here nor thetone you have used while addressing me. What are you keeping back? I amnot a man to be trifled with."
Mr. Gryce rose to his feet. "You are right," said he, and he gave ashort glance in my direction. "All that I have said would not perhapsjustify me in this intrusion, if--" he looked again towards me. "Do youwish me to continue?" he asked.
Mr. Blake's intent look deepened. "I see no reason why you should notutter the whole," said he. "A good story loses nothing by being toldto the end. You wish to say something about my journey to Schoenmaker'shouse, I suppose."
Mr. Gryce gravely shook his head.
"What, you can let such a mystery as that go without a word?"
"I am not here to discuss mysteries that have no connection with thesewing-girl in whose cause I am interested."
"Then," said Mr. Blake, turning for the first time upon my superior withall the dignified composure for which he was eminent, "it is nolonger necessary for us to prolong this interview. I have allowed, nayencouraged you to state in the plainest terms what it was you had orimagined you had against me, knowing that my actions of late, seen bythose who did not possess the key to them, must have seemed a littlepeculiar. But when you say you have no interest in any mysterydisconnected with the girl who has lived the last few months inmy house, I can with assurance say that it is time we quitted thisunprofitable conversation, as nothing which I have lately done, said orthought here or elsewhere has in any way had even the remotest bearingupon that individual; she having been a stranger to me while in myhouse, and quite forgotten by me, after her unaccountable departurehence."
Mr. Gryce's hand which had been stretched out towards the hithertountouched decanter before him, suddenly dropped. "You deny then," saidhe, "all connection between yourself and the woman, lady or sewing-girl,who occupied that room above our heads for eleven months previous to theSunday morning I first had the honor to make your acquaintance."
"I am not in the habit of repeating my assertions," said Mr. Blake withsome severity, "even when they relate to a less disagreeable matter thanthe one under discussion."
Mr. Gryce bowed, and slowly reached out for his hat; I had never seenhim so disturbed. "I am sorry," he began and stopped, fingering hishat-brim nervously. Suddenly he laid his hat back, and drew up his forminto as near a semblance of dignity as its portliness would allow.
"Mr. Blake," said he, "I have too much respect for the man I believedyou to be when I entered this house to-night, to go with the thingunsaid which is lying at present like a dead weight upon my lips. I darenot leave you to the consequence of my silence; for duty will compelme to speak some day and in some presence where you may not havethe opportunity which you can have here, to explain yourself withsatisfaction. Mr. Blake I cannot believe you when you say the girl wholived in this house was a stranger to you."
Mr. Blake drew his proud form up in a disdain that was only held incheck by the very evident honesty of the man before him. "Youare courageous at least," said he. "I regret you are not equallydiscriminating." And raising Mr. Gryce's hat he placed it in his hand.
"Pardon me," said that gentleman, "I would like to justify myself beforeI go. Not with words," he proceeded as the other folded his arms with asarcastic bow. "I am done with words; action accomplishes the rest. Mr.Blake I believe you consider me an honest off
icer and a reliable man.Will you accompany me to your private room for a moment? There issomething there which may convince you I was neither playing the foolnor the bravado when I uttered the phrase I did an instant ago."
I expected to hear the haughty master of the house refuse a request sopeculiar. But he only bowed, though in a surprised way that showedhis curiosity if no more was aroused. "My room and company are at yourdisposal," said he, "but you will find nothing there to justify you inyour assertions."
"Let me at least make the effort," entreated my superior.
Mr. Blake smiling bitterly immediately led the way to the door. "Theman may come," he remarked carelessly as Mr. Gryce waved his hand in mydirection. "Your justification if not mine may need witnesses."
Rejoiced at the permission, for my curiosity was by this time raised tofever pitch, I at once followed. Not without anxiety. The assured poiseof Mr. Blake's head seemed to argue that the confidence betrayed by mysuperior might receive a shock; and I felt it would be a serious blowto his pride to fail now. But once within the room above, my doubtsspeedily fled. There was that in Mr. Gryce's face which anyoneacquainted with him could not easily mistake. Whatever might bethe mysterious something which the room contained, it was evidentlysufficient in his eyes to justify his whole conduct.
"Now sir," said Mr. Blake, turning upon my superior with his sternestexpression, "the room and its contents are before you; what have you tosay for yourself."
Mr. Gryce equally stern, if not equally composed, cast one of hisinscrutable glances round the apartment and without a word steppedbefore the picture that was as I have said, the only ornamentation ofthe otherwise bare and unattractive room.
I thought Mr. Blake looked surprised, but his face was not one thatlightly expressed emotion.
"A portrait of my cousin the Countess De Mirac," said he with a certaindryness of tone hard to interpret.
Mr. Gryce bowed and for a moment stood looking with a strange lack ofinterest at the proudly brilliant face of the painting before him, thento our great amazement stepped forward and with a quick gesture turnedthe picture rapidly to the wall, when--Gracious heavens! what a visionstarted out before us from the reverse side of that painted canvas! Noluxurious brunette countenance now, steeped in pride and languor, but aface--Let me see if I can describe it. But no, it was one of those facesthat are indescribable. You draw your breath as you view it; you feel asif you had had an electric shock; but as for knowing ten minutes laterwhether the eyes that so enthralled you were blue or black, or the locksthat clustered halo-like about a forehead almost awful in its expressionof weird, unfathomable power, were brown or red, you could not nor wouldyou pretend to say. It was the character of the countenance itself thatimpressed you. You did not even know if this woman who might have beenanything wonderful or grand you ever read of, were beautiful or not. Youdid not care; it was as if you had been gazing on a tranquil eveningsky and a lightning flash had suddenly startled you. Is the lightningbeautiful? Who asks! But I know from what presently transpired, thatthe face was ivory pale in complexion, the eyes deeply dark, and thehair,--strange and uncanny combination,--of a bright and peculiar goldenhue.
"You dare!" came forth in strange broken tones from Mr. Blake's lips.
I instantly turned towards him. He was gazing with a look that was halfindignant, half menacing at the silent detective who with eyes droopedand finger directed towards the picture, seemed to be waiting for him tofinish.
"I do not understand an audacity that allows you to--to--" Was thisthe haughty gentleman we had known, this hesitating troubled man withbloodless lips and trembling hands?
"I declared my desire to justify myself," said my principal with arespectful bow. "This is my justification. Do you note the color of thewoman's hair whose portrait hangs with its face turned to the wall inyour room? Is it like or unlike that of the strand you held in your handa few moments ago; a strand taken as I swear, hair by hair from the combof the poor creature who occupied the room above. But that is not all,"he continued as Mr. Blake fell a trifle aback; "just observe the dressin which this woman is painted; blue silk you see, dark and rich; a widecollar cunningly executed, you can almost trace the pattern; a brooch;then the roses in the hand, do you see? Now come with me upstairs."
Too much startled to speak, Mr. Blake, haughty aristocrat as he was,turned like a little child and followed the detective who with anassured step and unembarassed mien led the way into the deserted roomabove.
"You accuse me of insulting you, when I express disbelief of yourassertion that there was no connection between you and the girl Emily,"said Mr. Gryce as he lit the gas and unlocked that famous bureau drawer."Will you do so any longer in face of these?" And drawing off the towelthat lay uppermost, he revealed the neatly folded dress, wide collar,brooch and faded roses that lay beneath. "Mrs. Daniels assures us thesearticles belonged to the sewing-woman Emily; were brought here by her.Dare you say they are not the ones reproduced in the portrait below?"
Mr. Blake uttering a cry sank on his knees before the drawer. "My God!My God!" was his only reply, "what are these?" Suddenly he rose, hiswhole form quivering, his eyes burning. "Where is Mrs. Daniels?" hecried, hastily advancing and pulling the bell. "I must see her at once.Send the house-keeper here," he ordered as Fanny smiling demurely madeher appearance at the door.
"Mrs. Daniels is out," returned the girl, "went out as soon as ever yougot up from dinner, sir."
"Gone out at this hour?"
"Yes sir; she goes out very often nowadays, sir."
Her master frowned. "Send her to me as soon as she returns," hecommanded, and dismissed the girl.
"I don't know what to make of this," he now said in a strange tone,approaching again the touching contents of that open bureau drawer witha look in which longing and doubt seemed in some way to be strangelycommingled. "I cannot explain the presence of these articles in thisroom; but if you will come below I will see what I can do to make othermatters intelligible to you. Disagreeable as it is for me to take anyoneinto my confidence, affairs have gone too far for me to hope any longerto preserve secrecy as to my private concerns."
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