The Deep Lake Mystery

by Carolyn Wells

  CHAPTER XIV POSY MAY

  “Well,” Keeley began, as we arranged ourselves comfortably on theglass-enclosed porch and prepared for a confab, “our impulsive friendhere has gone and done it now!”

  The two women gave me a quick look, and Lora, with her uncanny intuition,said:

  “When is the wedding, Gray?”

  “As soon as it can be arranged,” I declared, stoutly, for I wasn’t goingto be secretive about this matter, anyway. “But don’t plan for it yet,Lora, for the lady hasn’t by any means said yes. It’s only, so far, that‘Barkis is willin’.’”

  “It is serious,” Keeley said, slowly. “It’s all serious, and getting moreso every minute. I say, you’ll have to excuse me, I’ve got to go on anerrand.”

  He rose hastily and gathering up his hat and coat, started off down theroad.

  “Kee’s on the warpath for sure,” declared Lora. “What happened atWhistling Reeds, Gray?”

  “Nothing much—or, yes, I suppose there were developments. Better waittill Kee comes back. He went over the house on a searching bout.”

  “Did he find anything?”

  “I don’t know, but I doubt if he found anything as important as I did.You girls may as well know, first as last, I found—that is—I wasgiven—oh, pshaw, here it is—Alma asked me to destroy a book for her, andit was a copy of that book that has in it the story of _The Nail_.”

  “No!” cried Maud, aghast at the revelation. “Then——” She paused.

  “Now, don’t jump at conclusions,” Lora begged, looking at me with theutmost kindness, “To find that book there doesn’t necessarily point toAlma. It may implicate that old harridan of a nurse or her cavemanhusband. Far more likely than that cultured girl!”

  I looked at her gratefully.

  “Good for you, Lora,” I said. “Now I’m going to fight this thing to afinish. I’m far from ready to admit that the book’s presence at thathouse is a proof of anything; but of course, it must be investigated. Theworst part of it is that Alma asked me secretly to destroy it.”

  “She would, if she is shielding either of those two caretakers of hers.She is devoted to them, and I for one shouldn’t be at all surprised ifone or both of them did that murder. You see, they were afraid that themarriage of Mr. Tracy would cut off the fortune from their belovedmistress and so there’s motive enough.”

  “But not a shred of evidence,” I said. “And the evidence against Alma issimply piling up. The print of a shoe sole in the window sill showsdiamond-shaped dots, as you know, and Alma denied having any otherrubber-soled shoes. But, on the garden path there were distinct prints ofsoles with diamond-shaped dots, and when Kee saw them, he drew myattention. And besides,” in my despair I blurted out the whole story,“Alma told me she had destroyed the shoes.”

  “You poor boy,” and that blessed Lora patted my shoulder encouragingly,as she flitted about, “don’t put too much weight on those facts. I beginto see through it all. Alma was there, in that room—must have been—butshe was not the criminal. Nor did she cut up all those monkey tricks inthe bedroom. But these things must be sifted. Keeley will do it, once hegets fairly started. That is, Gray, if you will help him. Do believe me,when I tell you it is far better for you to be frank. Do you know, evennow, Kee thinks you’re holding out on him.”

  “I certainly should have held out on that confounded book, if I’d had theleast idea he would sneak it away from me! Good Lord, Lora, you’ve beenin love—what would you have done if every man’s hand was against Kee andyou——”

  “Hold on there, Gray, I love Kee now as much as I ever did! And I’m notsaying I wouldn’t lie or steal for him. But not if I were convinced thathonesty was the best plan. No matter what you know or what you may learnagainst Alma, let Kee in on it, for that is the only way to prove herinnocence.”

  “You haven’t any doubt of her innocence, have you, Gray?” Maud asked,gently.

  “No, Maudie, I haven’t. But there are such blatant, glaring bits ofevidence that seem to be against her, that I am afraid others won’t bewilling to sift them down, but will assume them to be proof positive ofher guilt.”

  “But if she is shielding some one else, as she must be, surely detectiveslike Keeley and Mr. March will see through it. Mr. March isn’t nearly askeen as Keeley, but he’s nobody’s fool, and he can see through amillstone with a hole in it.”

  “She tries to take it all so lightly,” I went on, thinking aloud. “Keeleymade her say she left her fingerprints when she tried to raise thatwindow, and then he flung at her that it was raining all Tuesdayafternoon. And she only said: ‘Oh, well, then it must have been Monday.’Now, that’s all right, and probably it was Monday, but March won’t besatisfied with that. He’ll cross question her and bullyrag her until hegets her so mixed up she won’t know where she’s at!”

  “But, Gray,” Lora said, quietly, “have you realized that thosefingerprints are not such as would be made in an attempt to raise thewindow? They are on the frame, not on the sash. They are obviously themarks made by some one who stepped up on the window sill and sprang outof the window. Kee is positive about this. He has examined themminutely.”

  “Then Heaven help Alma,” I groaned. “For they say they are herfingerprints and her footprints and she admits that she had that Totemthing in her mind. But it’s _too_ clear! It’s _too_ obvious! She neverkilled her uncle, fixed up all that gimcrack business and then went inthe sitting room and jumped out of the window!”

  “Stick to the things she evidently did do,” put in Maud. “She must havestood on the sill and dived out of the window——”

  “Not necessarily,” I stormed. “Even if she stepped up on the sill, say,to open a window that stuck, that doesn’t say she jumped, nor does itprove she killed her uncle.”

  “Certainly not—hush, somebody is coming up the steps.”

  The somebody proved to be Posy May, the pretty youngster whom I had seena few times already.

  “Well, how goes it?” she demanded, dropping into a chair and curling herfeet under her, while I accommodated her with a cigarette and a light.

  “How goes what?” asked Maud, who was not entirely in favour of the younglady, being herself of the type that can’t quite understand the flapper_motif_.

  “Oh, the detective business in general. It intrigues me, you know. Isometimes think I’ll take a correspondence course in Sherlocking.”

  “What are you doing to-day?” Lora said, pleasantly. “Why aren’t you atthe McClellan’s tea?”

  “Nixie on the switch! I like the subject I started better. And youneedn’t scorn me so. I could a tale unfold....”

  Annoyed beyond measure by this impudent minx, I rose and sauntered towardthe house door.

  But Lora had evidently caught a note of reality in the girl’s voice, forshe said, almost sharply, “What do you know, Posy? If you know anythingconcerning the matter, it is your duty to tell of it.”

  “I’d rather tell Mr. Moore,” she put on an air of importance. “He is atthe head of the investigation, I assume.”

  Lora smiled, in spite of herself, at the chit’s manner, but she onlysaid, suavely:

  “As a good wife, I am my husband’s helpmeet in all his business. And Iassure you it will be better to tell me and let me pass it on to him, forhe’s gone out, and I don’t know when he’ll get home again.”

  “Do tell us,” Maud urged, helpfully. “We are all intrigued, as you say,with the case, and your assistance might prove invaluable.”

  The flattering glance that accompanied this speech seemed to win the day,and Posy settled back in the big chair, sticking her feet out straight infront of her.

  “Well,” she said, smoothing down her brief and scant skirt, “you see, ourhouse is on down the lake, next below Whistling Reeds.”

  Recognizing there was or might be something coming, I turned back, andsat down again.

  “So, of course, I can’t help seeing them about n
ow and then, though Idon’t really rubber much—I don’t get time, as I’m busy on my own. And,after all, there’s nothing to see, and if there was, you can’t see muchwith all that wall of evergreens all round about.”

  “If this is idle gossip, my dear——” Lora began.

  “No, it’s—it’s information.”

  Thoroughly enjoying the attention she was receiving, Posy prolonged thesituation by selecting and lighting a fresh cigarette. Having drawn onepuff, she turned it round and critically surveyed the lighted end, as isthe absurd habit of some people.

  But each one of her hearers knew better than to interrupt by word or lookthe possible continuance of her revelations.

  “Now, what I have to tell, I’ve never breathed to a soul. I’m not surenow that I ought to breathe it.”

  She looked questioningly about, but we gave no aid or hindrance, knowingthe best plan was to let her alone.

  Then she drew a long sigh, and let the whole story pour forth in a madrush of words.

  “And it’s only one thing I saw, and one thing I heard. And I saw AlmaRemsen, out on the tennis court, in a perfectly fiendish rage, and shewas striking that old nurse person of hers and calling her the mostterrible names, and the man who takes care of the place came and carriedher into the house.”

  “Carried the nurse?”

  “No, of course not! Carried Alma into the house, and she was kicking andfighting like mad. And the other time was when I was out on the lake andI could see just the same sort of row going on, but I was too far to hearwhat she said. But this time the man wasn’t about and the nurse managedby herself to drag Alma into the house.”

  “You’re sure what you are saying is true, Posy?” asked Lora, very gravelyand with an intent look at the girl.

  “Oh, yes, Mrs. Moore, I’m sure, and the reason I’m telling you is becauseI think that Alma isn’t—you know—isn’t quite right, sometimes. Sheisn’t—exactly, all there. And then, except on these occasions, she is allright, her own sweet, lovely self.”

  “Do you know Alma well, Miss Posy?” I asked.

  “Oh, yes. We come up here every summer, I’ve known her for five or sixyears. She’s older than I am, we don’t go in the same set, but we meet atfairs and tournaments and she’s always most chummy with me. Now, I knowyou all think I’m telling this just to make a sensation and all that, butit isn’t at all. I’ve thought it over a lot, and it seemed to be my duty.You see, I’ve doped it out that she has spells—you know, epileptic, orwhatever they call it, and that they don’t come on often, but when theydo, she has no control over her passions. She becomes—oh, somebody else,like—and she fights like a mad person. If you’d seen her go for Mr.Merivale—wow! I don’t want to see it again!”

  “I can’t help thinking you’re mistaken in your diagnosis, Miss May,” Isaid, speaking indulgently, for I didn’t want her to flare up. “But Ithink it’s far more likely the two occasions you speak of were just fitsof anger, unladylike, perhaps, even unjustifiable, but not the result ofa diseased mind or body.”

  She looked at me with earnest eyes.

  “You wouldn’t say that if you had seen her, Mr. Norris. She was mad—Imean mad, in the sense of demented—I don’t mean just angry. Well, anyway,I’ve told my story, now you can take it up. But I know, if you go thereand face that nurse down, she’ll have to admit there’s some such state ofthings as I tell you of. She’d deny it to me, or to these ladies, but ifa man went there and made her tell the truth, you’d soon find out! That’swhy she had to be put out of her uncle’s house, when he decided to get awife in there. He couldn’t bring a wife to a home with a girl like thatin it. If it had not been for his approaching wedding, Mr. Tracy neverwould have put Alma out.”

  “Posy,” Lora spoke gently, “are you willing to keep this secret a whilelonger? Are you willing to promise not to tell anybody about it until Mr.Moore says you may? If you will do this, you may feel that you have beenof real help to us, but if you’re going to spread the story you will doincalculable harm.”

  “No, I won’t tell if you don’t want me to.”

  “That’s a good girl and we certainly don’t want you to. Don’t even tellDick Hardy, will you?”

  “Oh, gosh, no! He wouldn’t listen, anyway. He’s just my sheik, you know.He and I don’t talk about anything serious.”

  “You’re a funny youngster, Posy,” and Lora smiled kindly at her, “but I’mgoing to trust your word in this thing. If you say you won’t tell, youwon’t, will you?”

  “No, ma’am, I sure won’t. And, I don’t s’pose you can get me, but Iseemed to think the ends of justice couldn’t be served unless I coughedup my yarn.”

  “Oh, Posy, you funny kid!” said Maud, laughing outright.

  But Posy didn’t smile, nor, indeed, did I.

  After a few more words she went off, and as she ran round the corner ofthe hedge I felt that doubtless she had dismissed the subject from heraddle-pated head.

  For a few moments we sat, silently thinking over the story we had heard.

  I broke the silence finally by saying, “It’s too circumstantial not to betrue.”

  “Yes,” Lora agreed, “it’s true, right enough, but I can’t quiteunderstand.”

  “Nothing hard to understand,” I argued. “Alma has a more uncontrollabletemper than I had any idea of. This doesn’t make me think she went so faras to kill her uncle in one of her angry fits but I will say that thematter must be looked into.”

  “Kee will look into it,” Lora said, with one of her gentle smiles.

  Kee’s wife was a good sort, and she always tried to make things easy andpleasant for me. I knew, though, that she was thinking over this thing,and I dreaded to learn whither her thoughts led her.

  For I distinctly remembered Mrs. Dallas saying that Sampson Tracy hadwanted to tell her something about Alma, something unpleasant, she hadimplied. What could it have been but this, that the girl had, at times,an ungovernable temper?

  For I was determined I would not believe that the trouble lay deeper thanthat. That the sweet girl I adored had a flaw in her brain or a physicaldisorder that meant impaired intellect in any way!

  We ignored the subject by common consent, Lora, no doubt feeling thatsince it must be discussed with Kee, there was small use mulling it overbeforehand.

  And then, Kee returned.

  He was full of some news of his own, so we listened to him first.

  “It’s about that sound Ames heard,” he told us. “You know he said, afterseveral false starts, that it was like a stick drawn along a wall.

  “Well, it occurred to me that, if it was anything at all, it might be themurderer trailing along, with his hammer and nail in his hand, and if thehall was dark, feeling along the walls and doors to guide him.”

  “Rather far-fetched.” I smiled.

  “Well, the only way to see about it was to look on the door of Ames’sroom and there, sure enough, was a long scratch, as if a nail orsomething had been dragged along it. A distinct scratch, but only acrossthe door—at least, I could find no other such mark. So, me for theCoroner’s office to look over the exhibits. And, if you please, with apowerful lens, I discovered some minute particles of dark varnish inunder the head of that nail that played the principal part in our deathdrama.”

  “Seems incredible,” I murmured, and indeed it did.

  “Yes, but true,” Kee averred. “And the brown varnish corresponds exactlyto the door of Ames’s room, all the doors in that wing, in fact.”

  “Well, after all, what does it prove?” I asked, wearily, wondering whatnew horror was to be divulged.

  “Only premeditation. It proves that the murderer went to Tracy’s room,passing by Ames’s room, carrying the nail with him, and presumably thehammer. That’s all I can see in it, but it lends a bit of colour toMaud’s idea that the story of _The Nail_ may have been responsible forthe whole thing.”

  “Yes,” I said, holding myself together, “it does. But of course, eventhough we found that book
at the house on the Island, there are severalinmates of that house who may become suspect; also there is thepossibility that one of those inmates may have lent that book to anybodyin all Deep Lake.”

  “Perfectly true, Gray,” and Keeley spoke almost casually. “That’s logicalenough. Now to find out who did or might have done that. It’s quite onthe cards that somebody in the Pleasure Dome household read that book andused that method to do away with Tracy. It’s even possible that a rankoutsider did the same thing. But somebody did do it, and with that bookin the vicinity it’s only rational to assume the connection between thesuggestion and the deed.”

  “Could it have been the work of a demented person?” asked Maud.

  “Very easily,” Keeley said. “I’ve hoped all along some maniac would turnup whom we could suspect. But none has, so far. Yes, it all has theearmarks of the work of a distorted brain, I mean the feather duster andall that tomfoolery. But I’ve not been able to find any trace of anybodyeven slightly or temporarily demented.”

  Well, then, of course, Posy May’s story had to be told to him.

  Lora undertook the telling, and without any help from Maud or me, shegave a clear and concise _résumé_ of Posy’s statements.

  Kee listened, as always, thoughtfully and with deepest interest.

  When she had finished, he turned to me and said, in what was intended fora comforting manner:

  “Take it easy, old man. The game’s never out till it’s played out. I’mnot at all of the opinion that the scenes the volatile Posy describedactually happened just as she described them. It may be Alma lost hertemper, lost it to such an extent that the Merivales, one and all, urgedher into the house. But make allowances for the source of thatinformation and remember that it may all have happened some time ago,that Posy’s memory may be greatly stimulated by her imagination, and thatshe is decidedly prone to exaggerate, anyway.”

  My very drooping spirits revived and I plucked up a little hope. But Ihad to know what Kee thought about the book.

  “Do you feel sure, as Maud does, that the story in the book started thewhole thing?”

  “As I said, a few moments ago, I do, at this moment, think there is someconnection, but I am quite willing to say, also, that it is, to my mind,just as likely there is none.”

  “Then why did Alma want the book destroyed?” I demanded.

  “Because she thinks there _is_ a connection——”

  My heart lightened.

  “That,” I exclaimed, “proves you think her innocent.”

  “I never said I didn’t think that. But thinking so is a far cry fromproving it. If you, Gray, could only bring yourself to tell me theimportant bit of information you are holding out on me, I should knowbetter where we stand. I think, boy, the time has come—if you’re evergoing to tell—to tell now.”

  I pondered. How could I tell them that I had seen Alma on the lake thatnight? How could I put her dear head in the noose?—for it was nothingless than that. I shook my head.

  “There’s nothing, Kee,” I said.

  “Don’t tell, if you don’t want to, Gray, but don’t think you can lie tome successfully. You can’t.”

  “But, Keeley,” I begged him, “granting I do know of a point that Ihaven’t told you, and supposing it definitely incriminates the girl Ilove, can you wonder that I want to withhold it?”

  “You mean you _think_ it definitely incriminates her. You may well bemistaken.”

  “It doesn’t seem so to me.”

  “And you propose to lock this important piece of information in your ownsoul, away from us all, and let us go on, blindly floundering——”

  “Do you suppose I care how blindly you flounder if you don’t suspect AlmaRemsen? Do you suppose I care that I’m accessory after the fact, and allthat, if I can keep her safe from suspicion?”

  “But, Gray, if I can convince you that it’s wiser to let me know, and ifI promise not to utilize the information you give me, if it does proveher guilty, what then?”

  “If you give me your word of honour on that, I’ll tell.”

  “Very well, word of honour.”

  “Then,” I said, “I saw Alma Remsen in her canoe go to Pleasure Dome atabout half-past one that night her uncle died, and I saw—no, I heard, hercome back past here about half-past two.”

  “How are you so sure of this?” Kee asked. “You didn’t know her then. Thatwas the very night you arrived here.”

  “I know that. I was looking out of my bedroom window and saw the girl; itwas moonlight and I saw her distinctly. Then, next day when I saw Alma Irecognized her for the same girl.”

  “And you didn’t see her return?”

  “I heard her, but I was sleepy and didn’t get up to look out. It may nothave been she, of course, but it was a sound as of similar paddling.”

  “I’m glad you told me,” Keeley said, but his face was sombre and his eyessad.