The Deep Lake Mystery

by Carolyn Wells

  CHAPTER XV JENNIE

  Keeley Moore had a knack of putting his troubles away on a high shelf,while he relaxed, as he called it. And with him, this meant relaxation ofmind as well as body, and he stretched himself in his porch chair, anddemanded light chatter, with no hint or mention of the Pleasure Dometragedy.

  Lora, as usual, met him more than half way, and began a recital of theblunders made by her new parlour maid that morning.

  “Nice looking little baggage,” said Kee, who had always an eye for apretty face. “Where’d you pick her up?”

  “I can’t tell you that,” said Lora, “it’s a secret.”

  “A secret? Where you got a servant! Then, I can guess; you sneaked heraway from some unsuspecting friend, and offered higher wages.”

  “Nothing of the sort! Jennie came to me and asked me to take her.”

  “Where has she been living?”

  “Oh, nowhere in particular. How do you like that screen across thatcorner? It was in the dining room, you know, but it wasn’t reallynecessary there——”

  “Hush, woman!” thundered Kee, in mock rage. “Don’t trifle with me. Tellme where that parlour maid sprang from, or tremble for your life!”

  “But I can’t,” and Lora broke into giggles. “You see, you’ve forbidden meto tell you——”

  “Forbidden you to tell me!” Kee sat up, his keen intuition telling himthere was something back of this chaffing.

  “Yes. To tell you would involve the mention of a forbidden name——”

  “Lora! You’ve taken on a servant from Pleasure Dome!”

  “Yes. I couldn’t resist. She’s a jewel, and she had already left there.”

  “She was free to come?”

  “Oh, yes. Griscom has dismissed several of the maids, saying there’s notenough work for a large force.”

  “The household is as it was except for Mr. Tracy.”

  “Yes, of course, but there’s no entertaining, and I believe Mr. Ames andyoung Dean are leaving soon after the funeral.”

  “Who’ll be head of the house, then? Everett, I suppose.”

  “Kee, you forbade all reference to Pleasure Dome and now you’re——”

  “Go away, we’re not talking of the murder now. A fellow can gossip abouthis neighbours, I suppose.”

  “Oh, yes; all right, then. Well, Jennie told me all this, and she saysthat when Miss Alma comes to live in the big house, she will go backthere, if Alma will take her. But she won’t stay there now, because Mrs.Fenn is too bossy.”

  “Mrs. Fenn?”

  “Yes, the housekeeper. She and Griscom rule the roost, and the otherservants are all squirming.”

  “Perhaps we can worm some information out of the perspicacious Jennie.”

  “Keeley Moore! You wouldn’t descend to quizzing servants, would you?”

  “Wouldn’t I just! I’d quiz a scullery maid, if I could get a glimmer oflight on our dark problem. Pull Jennie in and let me take a shot at her.”

  Obediently, Lora touched a bell and Jennie appeared.

  She was a trim, tidy young person, in a neat uniform, and her attitudewas perfect.

  She stood at attention and awaited orders.

  Kee looked at her, and then said, slowly, “You have been living at Mr.Tracy’s?”

  “Yes, sir.” The reply was calm, respectful and quite unperturbed.

  “Why did you leave there?”

  “The butler and housekeeper decided to reduce the staff, and I asked thatI might be one of those to leave.”

  Kee studied her more closely. Clearly, she was superior to the generalrun of servants.

  “Why did you wish to leave?”

  She hesitated a moment, then said, in a straightforward manner:

  “Because I prefer to work in a house where there is a master or mistressand not a house run by the upper servants.”

  “That’s plausible. Is that the only reason you wanted to make a change?”

  A longer pause this time. Then, again, that sudden decision to speak.

  “No, sir. I wanted to get away from a house where such a terrible thinghad happened.”

  “That’s a natural feeling, I’m sure. You were there, then, at the time ofMr. Tracy’s death?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Were you questioned by the Coroner about it?”

  “No, sir. I suppose he thought I didn’t know anything about it.”

  “And do you?”

  “Oh, yes, sir.”

  Keeley stared at her. I went limp and faint all over and the two womennearly fell off their chairs.

  But Kee was careful not to show his intense interest.

  “Well, Jennie,” he said, in as casual a tone as he could command, “whatdo you know?”

  “Do I have to tell you, sir?”

  She looked at him serenely, not at all frightened, and with no diminutionof her respectful attitude.

  “Why,—er—yes, Jennie, I think you do.”

  “I mean, legally, you know. Am I bound to answer your questions? Are youa policeman?”

  “Why, yes, in a way,” Kee began, and then he said, quickly, “no, Jennie,I’m not a policeman, but if you don’t tell me, you’ll have to tell thepolice. Now, wouldn’t you rather tell me, nice and quietly, than to beinterviewed by the police, who would scare you out of your wits?”

  “Oh, sir, they couldn’t scare me,” the girl returned, with a look ofself-reliance that seemed to exhibit neither fear of God nor regard ofman. I had never seen on the face of one so young such apparent certaintyof an ability to hold her own.

  Clearly, Jennie was a find, and would doubtless prove a strong card, for,of course, Kee would get her story out of her.

  But he soon found that he could not do it himself. Unless convinced thatshe was forced to it by the law, Jennie had no intention of divulging herinformation.

  Recognizing this, Kee gave it up and sent her about her business.

  “She probably knows nothing,” was his comment. “If she did, Griscom orHart would have caught on. I suppose she thought she saw something andher imagination exaggerated it.”

  “But she doesn’t seem to me imaginative, Kee,” Lora declared. “Not likePosy, you know, out to kick up a sensation. This girl is queer, veryqueer, but to me she rings true.”

  “We’ll hear her story before we decide,” Kee told her. “March will beover to-night, and he’ll have the law on her! Don’t let her go out thisevening.”

  Lora agreed and then we went out to dinner. Serious conversation at tablewas strictly taboo, so we had only light chat and banter throughout themeal.

  But afterward, snugly settled in the lounge, Keeley said:

  “Well, of course, we have to face facts. There’s no use denying, Gray,that matters begin to look pretty thick for Alma. As you know I have topush on; I can’t stop because the girl my friend cares for is undersuspicion. So, it comes down to this. If you choose, you may go back toNew York till it’s all over, one way or another. You can’t be of any helpto me here, and I can’t see how you can be of any use to Alma. Thissounds a bit brutal, but I think you understand. If you don’t, I’ll tryto explain.”

  “You’d better explain, then,” I growled, “for I’m damned if I dounderstand.”

  “Well, it’s only that, as I said, you can’t help any, and if things goagainst the girl, it would be better for you to be out of it all.”

  I suppose something in the look of misery that came into my eyes went toLora’s heart, for she said:

  “Nonsense, Kee, Gray can’t go away. He couldn’t bring himself to do that.Of course, he’ll stay right here with us, and if he doesn’t help, atleast he won’t hinder. You go ahead with your investigations and Gray andI will stand at thy right hand and keep the bridge with thee.”

  “All right, Lora,” I managed to say, and Kee understandingly refrainedfrom any further words on the subject.

  But I grasped his meaning, and I knew that
I was to stay only if I put noobstacles in his way and concealed no information that I might in any wayachieve.

  March came along as per schedule, and he and Keeley plunged at once intothe discussion. Keeley Moore was not one of those private investigatorswho kept secret his own findings or ideas. He was almost always ready totell freely what he thought or suspected, and he expected equal franknessfrom his fellow workers.

  So, first of all he informed March of the story Posy May had detailed.

  March, too, was inclined to take it with a grain of salt.

  “I know that kid,” he said. “She’s full of the old Nick, and I’m not sureher word is reliable. But that yarn sounds plausible, and if she did seewhat she describes, it’s likely somebody else at some time or other hasseen the same sort of thing. If so, I’ll try to find it out, and if weget one or two corroborations, we can begin to think it may be so.”

  “But, even then,” I suggested, “it may only mean a high temper and nota—a——”

  “A diseased mind,” March supplied. “I don’t know about that. If it were acase of high temper there would be more or less exhibition of it rightalong. A girl who flies into wild passions at times is going to haveslight shows of temper in between or else there’s something radicallywrong there. And as I know Miss Remsen, I only know her as a lovely,gentle-natured girl, without this fierce temper at all. If, then, she hasspells of it, those spells mean organic trouble of some sort. We couldask her nurse, but we’d learn nothing from her, I’m sure. We could quizthe Pleasure Dome servants, for the older ones, at least, lived therewhen Alma was there. But again, they would shield her from any suspicion.Or they probably would. We can try it on.”

  “What about her doctor?” said Lora. “He’d know.”

  “Yes; and that’s a good idea. But her doctor, I think, is Doctor Rogers,and he went to California the day after Mr. Tracy died. He seems to bebeyond reach, for he went by the Canadian Pacific, and stopped along theway at various places.”

  “Banff and Lake Louise, I suppose,” suggested Maud.

  “Yes, but also at some less known places, ranches or such, and his officesays he will get no mail until he reaches San Francisco.”

  “Fine way for a doctor to leave his arrangements,” exclaimed Keeley.

  “Oh, well, he put his practice in good hands, and he’s gone off for areal vacation. But all he could tell us is whether Alma Remsen is in anyway or in any degree mentally affected. And I’m quite sure we can somehowfind that out without him. If I grill that old butler and that sphinx ofa housekeeper over there, I’m sure I can gather from what they say ordon’t say about how matters stand.”

  “If she is epileptic,” Maud said, “would it explain a criminal act on herpart?”

  “It might,” March returned, “but I don’t think she is that.”

  “I don’t, either,” Kee agreed, and I blessed them both silently for thatray of hope.

  Then Keeley told of the new parlour maid and her strange attitudes, andMarch demanded her immediate presence.

  “A servant from that house is just what we want,” he said. “We are inluck.”

  Jennie answered Lora’s summons, and appeared, looking as composed andserene as before.

  Clearly she had no intention of quailing before the majesty of the law.

  “You may sit down, Jennie,” Lora said, kindly, and the girl took a chairwith just the right shade of deference and obedience.

  “You were employed at Pleasure Dome?” March began, a trifle disconcertedat this self-possessed young creature.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “For how long?”

  “I was there six months.”

  “Then you were there when Mr. Tracy died?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “But you were not there when Miss Remsen lived there?”

  “No, sir.”

  “No. Now, Jennie, you told Mrs. Moore you knew something about the nightof Mr. Tracy’s death.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Is it, do you think, of importance?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Not only the monotony of the girl’s monosyllabic replies, but theenigmatic smile that played about her lips and was remindful of the MonaLisa, began to grate on the nerves of all of us.

  But March swallowed, took a long breath, and plunged into the matter.

  “Then, Jennie, since you deem it of importance, tell it to us, and wewill see what we think about it.”

  “Must I tell it, sir?”

  “Indeed you must,” and March glared at her threateningly.

  But it was unnecessary. Jennie seemed to think it a case of needs mustwhen the law drives, and she began to speak in real sentences.

  “You see,” she said, “my room is across the house from Mr. Tracy’s room.I mean across the part of Deep Lake that he called the Sunless Sea.”

  “Across?”

  “Yes, sir. You can look out of my window and see down into Mr. Tracy’sroom. Of course, my room is on the third floor and his on the second, butyou can see in.”

  “Yes, and did you see in?”

  “Oh, yes, I often looked in there late at night.”

  “What for?”

  “Nothing in particular, only it was bright and gay and there were alwaysflowers about, and sometimes company and music, and so I liked to look atit.”

  “Well, go on.”

  “Yes, sir. And never did I see anything strange or peculiar, except thisone night, sir. You see, it was his sitting room as I could look into,and it was so fixed, with curtains and all that, that I couldn’t reallysee much after all. I just sort of had a glimpse like, and then nothing.”

  “I see. Well, get along to the night of the strange thing you saw. Whatwas it?”

  “I saw Miss Alma dive out of the window into the lake.”

  There was a moment’s dead silence and then March found his voice somehow,and carried on.

  “You’re—you’re sure it was Miss Remsen?”

  “Oh, yes, sir, of course. I know her well.”

  “How was she dressed?”

  “She had on a white dress, a sports suit, and white shoes and stockings.She most always wears white in the summer time. She came to the window,and I saw her step up on the sill, and then she looked down at the lakefor a moment.”

  “As if afraid?”

  “Oh, no, sir. As if just judging the distance, or something like that,Then, she put her hands together over her head, and dived right off. Shewent down like a lovely bird, into the water and in a few seconds upagain, and straight out to where her boat was, near by.”

  “What sort of boat?”

  “The little canoe she always uses, sir. I know it well.”

  “And then?”

  “Then, sir, she settled herself in the boat, all dripping wet as she was,but she didn’t seem to mind, and she paddled away just as she alwayspaddled, with that clear, sharp stroke that everybody admires so much.”

  “Where did she go?”

  “Toward her own home, on the Island. Of course, when she turned the bendI couldn’t see her.”

  “What did you do then?”

  “I went to bed, sir.”

  “Put out your light?”

  “I didn’t have any light. It was moonlight and I was just looking out atthe lake when this thing happened.”

  “Jennie, this is a very strange tale.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You say it is true—all of it?”

  “Every word, sir.”

  The girl’s eyes were of a dull gray, but they had a penetrating gaze thatwas a bit irritating.

  But both eyes and voice carried conviction.

  None of Jennie’s listeners was the kind to be hoodwinked, and moreover weall rather fancied ourselves as being able to discern between true andfalse witnessing.

  And as we found later, when we compared notes, each of us was thoroughlyimpressed with the indubitable truthfulness of this strange girl with herstrange story.

  “And
you’ve not told this before?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Why not?”

  “I wasn’t asked.”

  “Who asked you now?”

  “Mrs. Moore, sir, and then Mr. Moore, and then yourself.”

  “Yes, I see. Well, Jennie, can you keep this story secret for a time?”

  “If nobody asks me about it.”

  “But look here, girl, you are in the command of the law, and I order younot to tell this. You’re bound to obey me, or you will be put in prison.See, in prison!”

  “I shouldn’t like that, sir.”

  But even this avowal brought no change of countenance or gleam of fear tothe gray eyes.

  “You bet you wouldn’t. But that’s what you’ll get if you tell.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Will you keep still about it?”

  “If nobody asks me, sir.”

  March looked utterly disgusted, but Lora took the matter in hand.

  “Leave it to me, Mr. March,” she said. “I think I can answer for Jennie’sobedience to your order so long as she stays with me.”

  “I like you,” said Jennie, gazing at her.

  “Of course you do,” said Lora, heartily, “and I like you. We’re going tobe great friends. Now, Mr. March, any more questions before I put ourstar witness to bed?”

  “A few only. Jennie, did you see Miss Remsen come to the house, or onlygo away?”

  “Only go away.”

  “Do you suppose she came to the house in her boat?”

  “She must have done so, she always comes that way. But she could not havegone in by the window.”

  “No. How did she get in, then?”

  “By the door, I suppose. Miss Remsen had a key.”

  “Then, why did she leave by the window?”

  “That’s what I don’t know,” the gray eyes clouded. “That’s what I can’tmake out.”

  “It is a hard problem. What time was it when you saw her go away?”

  “I’ve no idea. We all go to bed at ten, if it isn’t our night out. So Iwent to my room about ten, but I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Hadn’t you been asleep at all, when you saw the girl and the boat?”

  “Yes, I think so. I’m quite sure I had. But my watch wasn’t going, and soI don’t know what time it was.”

  “Don’t you have a timepiece to get up by?”

  “Mrs. Fenn raps on our doors, sir, then we get up.”

  “I see. Well, you say it was moonlight. Do you know where the moon was,in the sky?”

  “Oh, yes, it was just disappearing behind Mr. Tracy’s wing.”

  “Then we can track the time down by that,” said March, with a nod ofsatisfaction. “Given the date and the position of the moon, that’s easy.”

  “Jennie,” said Keeley, thoughtfully, “did Miss Remsen have anything inher hands when she dived from the window?”

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you that. You see, her canoe was just below, rightdown from the window. She leaned out first, and dropped a bundle ofsomething into the boat. Then, she stepped on the sill, and I could seeshe did have something in one hand. A sort of stick, I think.”

  “The Totem Pole,” said March, decidedly.

  “That’s all, Jennie, you may go now.”

  Lora left the room with the girl, but soon returned, Not a word had beenspoken by us in her absence.

  “Well,” she said, as she came back, and March responded, “not well atall. About as bad as it can be.”

  “You believe that balderdash, then?” I asked, angrily, and Keeley said,“Yes, Gray, and so do you. I think, March, we must revert to the mentallydeficient theory.”

  “I think so, too,” March said, shaking his head. “I wish Doctor Rogerswas at home.”