by Will Irwin
XI
THROUGH THE WALL-PAPER
"You've got to do it!" said Rosalie Le Grange; "no half-way business. Icould show better reasons than I'm tellin'."
Blake paused in his slow walk beside her.
"What reasons?" he asked.
"Now listen to the man!" exclaimed Rosalie. "And ain't it man for you!Right off, first meeting, I told you enough to put me in jail and nowyou won't trust me!"
Blake seemed to see the logic of what she said.
"I have cause to trust you," he said, "and I hope you don't think thatI am afraid of the personal danger. It's just that you're asking me todo something which--will, which people like me don't do."
"So anxious to be a gentleman that you forgit to be a man!" remarkedRosalie with asperity. "Now you listen to me. I've told you that she'sheld two materializing seances for Robert H. Norcross, haven't I? I'vetold you it is crooked materialization--even if there was such a thingas real cabinet spooks, which there ain't--because I found the ceilingtrap an' the apparatus long ago. And if Mrs. Markham is playin' fakematerializing with old Norcross as a dope, what does it come to?Obtainin' money, an' big money, under false pretenses! That's enough toput her behind the bars. So what risk do you take even if you _are_caught? She'll be more anxious than you to keep it away from the papersand the police. And Norcross! He'll break his collar-bone to shut itup!"
Half persuaded, he clutched at his sense of honor.
"But it's a sneaking trick--Annette would call it that."
"Yes, an' ain't it a sneakin' trick to hire a housekeeper to be a spy?"Rosalie hurled back. "Seems to me you draw a fine line between doin'your own dirty work an' havin' it done!"
At this plain statement of the case, Blake smiled for the first timethat morning.
"I suppose you're right," he said. "A good officer never sends a manwhere he wouldn't go himself. I'm rather sorry I started now."
The dominant thought in all the complex machinery of Rosalie's mindwas: "And you'll be sorrier before this night's over, boy." But hervoice said:
"I knew you'd see it that way. Now listen and git this carefully:You're to wear a big ulster and old hat and soft-soled shoes--don'tforget that. You're to come to the back door at a quarter tonine--exactly. Us servants receive our callers at the back door.Norcross will be in the parlor at half past, Annette will be in herroom, the other help will be out, Ellen and all. Mrs. Markham takes nochances--not even with that fool girl--when she's got Norcross. She'sgiven Ellen theater tickets. That's how careful she is about littlethings. You can see how clear the coast will be. I'm goin' to bring youstraight to my room like a visitor. You walk soft!"
"But how about that electric bell?" he asked.
"I disconnected it this morning at the trap with my manicure scissorsan' a hairpin," replied Rosalie, triumphantly.
So, at sixteen minutes to nine, Dr. Blake, feeling a cross between adetective and a burglar, stole through the alley which backed theMarkham residence, crossed the area, knocked softly at the kitchendoor. It opened cautiously and then suddenly to show the kitchen,lighted with one dim lamp, and the ample form of Rosalie. With a fingeron her lips, she closed the door behind him. His heart beat fast, lesswith a sense of impending adventure than with the thought, which struckhim as he mounted the servants' staircase, that he was divided but bythin walls from the object of all these strivings and diplomacies--thatfor the second time in his life he was under her home roof withAnnette. It was a firm, old house. Their footsteps made not theslightest creak on the thick-carpeted stairs. At the door of her room,Rosalie stopped and put her mouth to his ear.
"Step careful inside," she said, "my floor is bare." He stood now inthe neat, low-ceiled housekeeper's parlor. Rosalie turned up the gas,and indicated by a gesture that he was to stand still. Elaborately, sheclosed the registers, plugged the keyhole with her key, and set twochairs beside him.
"Now sit down," she whispered. "They can't hear us talkin', though we'dbetter whisper for safety, but two sets of footsteps might soundsuspicious. The halls are carpeted like a padded cell, which ought tohave put me wise in the beginning."
"Are you sure Annette's abed?" he asked anxiously.
Rosalie threw him a swift glance, as of suspicion.
"Sure," she said--"saw her go. Now before I let you out, I want to gitone promise from you. Whatever happens, you leave this house quiet,--asquiet as you can. You've got _me_ to guard in this as well asyourself--you can't leave me alone with trouble."
"I'll promise that," he said. "Won't you tell me what I'm going tosee?"
Rosalie, under pretense of consulting her watch, looked away.
"You'll know in ten minutes," she said. "Now don't bother me with anyquestions. I've got directions for you. You're coming with me to thefloor below. I'll let you into a hall closet. It was built into a--intoa room, and the back of it is only wood. There's an old gas connection,which they papered over, through that wood. Yesterday I punched throughthe paper and hung a picture over the hole. This afternoon, I took thatpicture down. To-morrow morning, the picture goes back. But now,there's a peephole into the room."
Dr. Blake bristled.
"Peep through a hole!" he said.
"Now ain't that just like a fashionable bringin-up," said Rosalie,almost raising her voice. "Things a gentleman can do an' things hecan't do! You're tryin' to bust a crook, an' you remember what yourFrench nurse told you about the etiquette of keyholes!"
"You're my master at argument, Mme. Le Grange," responded Blake. "Goahead."
"And you promise to leave quiet?"
"I promise."
"There's one place I can trust your bringin'-up, I guess. When you'reinside, feel about till you find a hassock. Stand on it; 't will bringyour eyes up to the hole. Stay there until I knock for you to comeout--let's be goin'."
"But what am I to do--why am I here if I am to do nothing?"
"You're to look an' see an' remember what you see--that's all forto-night."
At the door, she looked him full in the eyes again:
"Remember, you've promised."
"I remember."
The dim light of a low gas jet illuminated the upper hall. From belowcame the faintest murmur of voices. Rosalie led to the hall of thesecond floor, turned toward the back of the house, opened a door andmotioned. He stepped inside; the door closed without noise. He was inblack darkness.
His foot found the hassock; he mounted it and adjusted his eye. He waslooking into some kind of a living-room or boudoir. On the extreme leftof his range of vision he could see a set of dark portieres; directlybefore him was a foolish little white desk, over which burned a gasjet, turned low. That, apparently, was the only illumination in theroom. For the rest, he could only see a wall decorated with the tinyfrivolities of a boudoir, two chairs, a sewing table. He watcheduntil--his eyes, grown accustomed to the dim light--he discerned everydetail. From far below, he heard the subdued hum of a conversation, andmade out at length, in the rise and fall of voices, that a man and awoman were speaking. Then even that sound ceased; over the house lay astillness so heavy that he feared his own breathing.
Gradually, he was aware that someone was playing a piano. It began sogently that he doubted, at first, whether it was not a far echo fromone of the houses to right or left. But it increased in volume until helocated it definitely in the rooms below. The air, unrecognized atfirst, called up a memory of old-fashioned parlors and of hisgrandmother. He found himself struggling for words to fit the tune; andsuddenly they sprang into his mind--"Wild roamed an Indian maid, brightAlfaretta." Thrice over the unseen musician played the air, and let itdie with a last, lingering chord.
Suddenly his heart gave a great leap. For the first time, something washappening in the room before him. It came first as a slight, paddedthump, like bare feet striking the floor. He saw that the portieres toleft of his range of vision were undulating. They parted--and a pillarof white stood for a moment before them. The thing resolved itself intoa human figure, swathed, drap
ed in white, the face concealed by a whiteveil which fell straight from the head. Now the white figure, with anoiseless, gliding motion, was crossing the room toward the white desk.It stopped, lifted a hand which crept toward the gaslight. With thismotion, the veil fell away from the face. The gaslight shone upon it;he could see it in full profile.
It was Annette.
In the space of his long gasp, her hand touched the gas jet. It wentout; the room faded into absolute darkness.
And the vision which stood out from the black background made him swayand clutch at the garments in the closet. For her robes radiated dulllight, like a coal seen behind ashes. It was as though she were aboutto burst into flame. On her head gleamed a dull star; from it, theradiance of her robe fell away toward her feet in lesser light, likethe tail-streamer of a comet. All emotion of despair, disillusion,rage, were expressed for a moment within him by an emotion ofsupernatural awe which sent the tremors running from his face to hisspine, and his spine to his feet. She stood a perfect phantom of thenight, like Annette called back from the dead.
The pillar of dull light was moving now. She had stooped; he heard afaint creak, he imagined that he felt new air. Suddenly, too, a voicewhich had been droning far away became audible. And now the pillar oflight was sinking, sinking through the floor. The feet were gone, thetorso; the star of light was level with the floor, was gone. He waslooking into darkness.
Mrs. Markham's controlled, vibrant voice rose clearly from below--hecaught every word:
"Come, Helen; be strong. He loves you. His love calls you!"
Silence for a quarter of a minute; then a swish as of garments agitatedby some swift motion; then Annette's well-remembered contralto voice ofa boy--Annette's voice, which had spoken such things to him--
"_Robert, dearest, I have come again. Robert, I keep for you out herethe little ring. Robert, we will be happy!_"
And the voice of a man, sobbing and breaking between the exclamatives:
"_My little Lallie--Dear Helen--how long I've waited--sweetheart--howmany years!_"
And the voice of Annette.
"_Only a few more years to wait, dearest--and now that you have faith,I can come to you sometimes--but, oh, dearest, I foresee a danger--agreat danger!_"
Ten minutes later, Rosalie tiptoed from the library from which she hadobserved the seance to the last detail of method, and made her way tothe closet wherein she had shut Dr. Blake. She opened the door with allprecaution, fumbled, found nothing, whispered. No one answered. At lastshe stepped within, plugged the keyhole with her key, and lit a match.
The closet was empty.
Rosalie crept upstairs to her own room. When she lit the gas, she wascrying softly and--as of old habit under emotional stress--talking toherself under her breath.
"I had to do it," she whispered. "He'd believe nothin' but his eyes!"
She sat down then, and surveyed her belongings. "The job's over. Whatwhelps it makes people--just to touch this business!"