“That’s nothing, compared with the question of morale. I want to tell you I’m sorry, Reggie, and it won’t happen again.”
“Jake,” she said, “please don’t mind about me knowing. I know how little you drink. And if it’s just once, when you were extra tired, or worried, if you took a little too much—I mean—” She sought for a word. “Please don’t feel sheepish or anything.”
‘Sheepish,’ he said to himself. What a word to use! Typical of her.
He patted her bare shoulder.
“You’re very kind and patient, Reggie,” he said.
“I’ll be right down to breakfast,” she called, as he went out of the room.
He nearly ran down the stairs, with a desperate hope that he might be finished and out of the house before she came. Miss Castle and Jay were at the table. Jay rose.
“Good-morning, Daddy.”
“Good-morning. Good-morning, Miss Castle.”
The ritual did not please him this morning. I want to think, he said to himself. I’ve got to think. I’ve got to find out where that fellow Nolan’s gone. I can’t go on like this. Suppose he’s already seen Aunt Lou? Well, if he has, I’ll hear from her, all right. But why should he do that? He’d have nothing to gain by it. Unless it’s sheer malice. Class hatred.
Reggie came into the room, and he had to pay some attention to her. He had to talk, at least a little, when he wanted time to think.
The taxi Mary had ordered came, and at last Duff could get away. I’m going to act, he thought. I don’t intend to wait in this misery, to see what that fellow feels like doing.
When he reached Grand Central, he telephoned to Mrs. Albany.
“I’m going to be uptown today,” he said. “How about your having lunch with me?”
“I’d like to, Jacob, but I’m taking a Citizenship Class to the Museum. If you’re free at five or so, come in for a cup of tea.”
“I’ll certainly try. Aunt Lou,” he said.
He was sure she had heard nothing from Nolan, for not only was she incapable of any pretense, but she was incapable of wanting to pretend anything. Yet this gave him little relief. At any moment Nolan might approach her.
He called up his office and said he would be delayed. He went into the bar of a big hotel and ordered a double rye, while he looked through his newspaper for something he vaguely remembered. Information. Private inquiries. Dependable Agency.
The address was on Forty-Second Street. When he had finished his drink, he set out resolutely. I am going to find out what that fellow’s up to, he told himself. Very fishy, the whole thing. First he makes this preposterous accusation, practically threatening blackmail, and then he simply disappears.
Walking along the busy street, in the clear spring sun, he was assailed by a sudden and dreadful loneliness. He had no confidant in this wretched affair, no friend to stand beside him. He was going, alone, on this fantastic errand, to a private detective agency. Jacob Duff.
They’ll be pretty tough, I suppose, he thought. They might even be blackmailers themselves. I’m taking a big chance, to go to these people I don’t know anything about. I should have asked someone to recommend a good firm. Ask who? No. I’ve got to take the chance, that’s all.
But suppose they find out too much? He began to sweat, his lips began to tremble; he stopped and looked in a shop window. Suppose they find Nolan and he tells them? No… Better drop this, here and now.
But in a moment he rebelled against this. Good God! he told himself. I haven’t committed any crime. There’s nothing anyone could blackmail me for, if they wanted. It’s simply that I want to know where that fellow Nolan is. I may want to see him, give him a final warning, or I may not. Simply, it makes me uneasy not to know where he is.
On the directory board in the small old-fashioned building he found The Dependable Agency, fourth floor, and he got into the elevator. There was a mirror there, and his own image reassured him, his ruddy face, his impeccable grey felt hat, his well-cut light overcoat, his excellent tie. He looked prosperous, dignified and confident, and so he was, so he was. He was Jacob Duff, wishing to make inquiries about a discharged servant. Why? Nobody’s business why.
The anteroom was perfectly ordinary; a nice-looking girl sat at a desk.
“I’d like to see the—manager,” said Duff.
“Yes, sir,” said the girl, and spoke into the telephone fitted with a device which made her words unintelligible and turned her voice into a peculiar quacking. Quack, quack, quack, she said, and waited. Quack, quack, she said, and hung up the instrument.
“Mr. Fearns will see you, sir,” she said. “This way, please.”
He followed her down a short corridor, and he was pleased that she had not asked his name. Very discreet, that was. She opened a door and he entered an office a little shabby but in no way sinister. The man sitting at the desk rose, a stocky, square-shouldered man, with a pale face, pale eyes, and yellow hair parted on the side.
“What can we do for you, sir?” he asked.
“I’d like somebody found—traced,” said Duff. “A chauffeur I discharged.”
“Sit down, sir,” said Fearns. “Now, if you’ll give me the details… Your name?”
“Duff. Jacob Duff. This fellow was very insolent, threatening, in fact. I discharged him, but I told him I wanted to see him before he left. He didn’t come, though; he simply disappeared.”
“Take anything?”
“His own clothes. Nothing else, as far as I know now.”
“Collect his pay?”
“Yes. Yes, he did that.”
“Cash?”
“No. I gave him a check.”
“D’you want him followed, Mr. Duff, or just located?”
This gave Duff a new idea.
“I’d like to know exactly what he’s done since he left my place, if it’s possible.”
“Yes. After he’s located, d’you want him followed?”
“Yes,” said Duff, after a moment.
“I’ll tell you our rates,” said Fearns, and they seemed to Duff very high.
Fearns then started questions about Nolan: age, height, weight, color of eyes and hair; any special gestures, way of walking? Duff’s answers were not good and he knew it. He could not describe Nolan, yet in his mind he could see him with unpleasant clarity.
“Okay,” said Fearns. “Want us to notify you by phone, or not?”
“You mean instead of by mail?”
“By mail, yes, or we can send a man along, soon as we get anything.”
“That would be better,” said Duff. “At my office.”
The whole thing had been very much easier than he had expected. He had not had to give any reason for wanting Nolan found; it had all been entirely business-like and matter-of-fact. And this idea of having the fellow followed, he thought, that’s excellent. Now I’ll know.
He went out to lunch at a quarter to twelve. And I’m going to have a drink, he thought. I want it, and there’s no reason on earth why I shouldn’t have it. He had a double Martini and then a single, and then he tried to eat. But he had no appetite and he felt tired and depressed. If I could take a nap, he thought, even fifteen minutes…
He lit a cigarette and leaned back, looking away from the untouched food before him. It’s a damn queer thing, he thought, the sort of civilization we’ve built up. Absolutely no place where you could take a nap for fifteen or twenty minutes. That’s all I need. I had a very poor night. I don’t know what time I got to bed.
His drowsiness had become a misery. But he couldn’t close his eyes here, in the restaurant; he had to go back to the office. And why the hell shouldn’t I go to sleep there, if I want? he asked himself, angrily. I’ve got to do it, that’s all. I can’t keep my eyes open.
He went into his own office and spoke quietly to Miss Fuller.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he said. “I can’t keep my eyes open.”
“Spring fever,” she said. “I get that way myself.”
“I suppose that’s it,” said Duff, pleased with the girl. “If you’ll just see that I get fifteen or twenty minutes without being disturbed—?”
“I will, Mr. Duff!” she said, heartily.
He put his feet up on the desk and made himself as comfortable as he could. He closed his heavy eyes.
“Mr. Duff! Mr. Duff!”
“Oh, what is it?” he cried. “I told you I didn’t want to be disturbed for fifteen minutes.”
“But it’s over half an hour, Mr. Duff, and there’s a man here to see you. He says it’s personal. Here’s his card.”
The card was in a sealed envelope. Mr. Martin McGinnis. The Dependable Agency.
“Oh… Show him in, please,” said Duff, with that feeling, now growing familiar, of dread and confusion.
McGinnis was a lean and wiry young man with thick black brows and black hair that grew low on his forehead.
“Well, sir,” he said. “I’ve located your man for you.”
“Pretty quick work,” said Duff.
“Yes. I didn’t waste no time,” said McGinnis. “I located this here Nolan for you.”
“Where is he?”
“Why, he’s just about next door to you, out in Vandenbrinck.”
“What do you mean? I know the neighbors—”
“You know that road that runs back of your place? Well, there’s a little house there, and that’s where he is. You could even see the house from your windows.”
“What’s he doing?” Duff asked.
“Drinking is one thing he’s doing,” said McGinnis. “He’s sent out three times already to the liquor store. He hasn’t left the house since he got there.”
Duff was silent for a moment.
“I’m going away for a day or two,” he said. “Doctor’s orders. Here’s the telephone number where you can reach me. Keep an eye on Nolan and let me know when he makes any move.”
Chapter 9
“It’s out of the question, Jacob,” said Mrs. Albany. “I’d like very much to pay you and Reggie a little visit, but there are any number of things…”
She leaned across the tea-table and put her hand on his arm.
“But it’s a nice idea, Jacob,” she said. “I’m glad you’re going down to the shore alone with Reggie. I hope it means you’re going to lead a proper married life again.”
Her light-grey eyes, clear as water, were fixed upon his face, and he flushed with irritation.
“Oh, yes…” he said. “But the thing is, I’m not feeling any too well.”
“You drink too much,” said Mrs. Albany.
“You’re mistaken,” he said, curtly.
“No, I’m not,” said Mrs. Albany. “There was liquor on your breath when you came in this afternoon, Jacob, and you’re overweight and puffy.”
“I’m not well!”
“You’re the type that could very well take to drinking,” Mrs. Albany went on. “Like your Uncle Eugene. You’re like him, in a good many ways. So easily bored.”
“That’s hardly a crime,” said Duff.
“Yes, it is,” said Mrs. Albany. “The Church used to call it so, in the middle ages. Nobody has any right to be bored, and if you don’t watch out, Jacob, if you don’t take more exercise, if you don’t lead a fuller, more active life, you’ll take to drinking alone at home. And that’s the beginning of the end.”
“Very well!” he said, rising. “If that’s your opinion of me—”
She rose too. “There!” she said. “I was only warning you, Jacob. You’re much more sensible than your Uncle Eugene. He never married, you know. If he’d had a sweet, pretty young wife, as you have, I dare say he’d never have got into such a state. I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Jacob. I’ll come out to the shack tomorrow as early as I can and stop for lunch.”
“It’s a tiresome trip, just for a few hours’ visit.”
“Nothing is tiresome to me,” said Mrs. Albany. “That’s what I’ll do, Jacob. I’ll take a train around nine, and I’ll get a taxi from the station.”
“It’s very good of you. Aunt Lou,” he said.
But it was not what he had wanted. He had wanted both his aunt and his wife down there in the shack for a few days, where Nolan could not reach them. Just until I get this settled, he thought.
For the thought of Nolan, in some little house just outside his gates, Nolan drinking, was unbearable. As soon as McGinnis had gone, he had called up Reggie.
“Look here, Reggie!” he had said. “I’ve been able to fix things up in the office so that I can take a few days off. Suppose we go down to the shack tonight?”
“Oh, tonight, Jake?”
“Why not?”
“Well, I mean, we only just got back, didn’t we? Jake, we haven’t got enough gas to drive—”
“I know that. Well go by train. If you’ll be good enough to pack a bag for me and bring it along I’ll meet you in Grand Central. We can have an early dinner and then go along. And don’t bring Jay, please.”
He had thought that he could persuade Mrs. Albany to come with them, and he was bleakly disappointed by his failure. Nothing to stop Nolan from getting at Mrs. Albany now. And if the fellow’s drinking. Duff thought, he’ll be absolutely reckless. God knows what he’ll do.
He had almost forgotten what it was that Nolan might do; his dread of the man was formless, but far more acute now. I’ve got to think things out, he told himself. Got to find some way to dispose of that fellow, once and for all. I can’t go on like this.
He could scarcely stand the sight of Reggie, looking so happy.
“This is fun, Jake!” she said, when he met her.
Fun, was it?
“Jake, what’s that funny little bag?”
“I bought it this afternoon. I’m taking some papers with me.”
“Oh, I hoped you wouldn’t work, Jake! I thought we might make it sort of like a picnic. I’ll cook nice little meals for us, and we can sit out on the beach, and take walks, and all.”
I couldn’t dream up anything worse, thought Duff. I don’t know how I’m going to stand being shut up down there with her, anyhow.
“Aunt Lou’s coming out for lunch tomorrow,” he said.
“Oh, that’s nice!” said Reggie. “She’s the grandest person, isn’t she?”
He didn’t have to answer her idiot remarks; she didn’t even notice. He took her to a restaurant, and she liked it; she liked her dinner, she liked every damn thing. Absolutely no critical sense whatever, he thought.
“Sort of like another honeymoon, isn’t it, Jake?” she said, when they were on the train. “I mean, just you and me—”
“Unfortunately, no,” he said. “I’m taking this time off from the office because I’m not well. It’s not a pleasure trip, for me. I’m doing this because I can’t afford to break down.”
“I’m terribly sorry, Jake, dear,” she said.
He regretted this trip bitterly. Without Mrs. Albany it was pointless. Nolan could still strike. All he had done was to make for himself a nightmare of boredom. Nightmare was the right word. The train was curiously dreamlike, dimly lit, filled with a strange dank smell; the other passengers looked pale and hopeless. He closed his eyes, so that Reggie should not talk to him, but it seemed to him that he felt a radiation of life and energy from her; she sat quietly enough, but she was too alive.
The little station was deserted; one taxi stood there, and he thought it was lopsided, like a crazy painting.
“Oh, you can smell the sea, can’t you?” said Reggie.
“Yes,” he said, with a sigh.
The main street of the little village was forlorn; only one or two shops lighted.
“They go to bed early here, don’t they?” said Reggie. “It’s only about nine o’clock, and look at it!”
“I’m going to bed early myself,” said Duff.
“Yes. We’ve got enough left in the icebox from Saturday for our breakfast, anyhow, and tomorrow I can go to market.”
The shac
k itself was unbelievable. It was horrible, with a bonelike whiteness under the starry sky; the sound of the sea was like a beast panting faintly. Duff unlocked the door and turned on the switch, and the taxi driver set down the bags.
“Thank you, sir,” he said, pleased with his tip.
The door closed after him.
“I have about half an hour’s work to do,” said Duff, instantly. “I’d rather do it now, and get it over with.”
“Would you like to work in the dining-room, Jake? There’s the table and a good light—”
“I’ll work in the guest room, thanks,” he said.
He locked the door and opened the new little bag, which snugly held the three bottles he had bought that afternoon. He poured a drink and then unlocked the door. Because if Reggie did come to bother him, it would look queer to be locked in. He spread out the papers, which he had taken at random from the office; he picked up the drink, and set it down again, overcome with nausea. I hate the stuff! he thought.
Puffy, he thought. Well, it’s possible. I was pretty high last night. But after a good night’s sleep… There won’t be any more of that. Now, about Nolan.
Nolan bored him, and that wouldn’t do. He began to sip the gin, to start his brain working. Oh, the hell with Nolan! he thought. These agency fellows will tell me if he makes a move to see Aunt Lou, and then I can act. Do what I planned to do. Well, what was that? The hell with it. Nothing’s going to happen tonight. What I need is sleep, and plenty of it.
He had a magazine with him; he began to read it and he felt a great deal better. In the morning, he thought, after I’ve slept off last night’s jag, I’ll be able to cope with anything that comes up.
There was a knock at the door.
“What is it?” he called, hiding the magazine under the papers.
“It’s me, Jake.”
“I told you I had work to do.”
“But you said half an hour, Jake, and it’s much more. I just feel worried about you getting enough sleep.”
“I’ll look after myself, thanks.”
“Would you like a cup of cocoa, Jake?”
“I would not, thanks.”
She came into the room, to his side.
“I’ll get you some fresh water,” she said, taking up the glass.
The innocent Mrs Duff Page 6