CHAPTER XIX
IN WHICH I CAN NOT BELIEVE HALF I HEAR
We were all upon our feet, and now Reid, with a curt nod of farewell,turned away with his companion. I stepped to his other side.
"One moment," I said. "I want to know a little more about this before Idrop it; and right here is as good a place as any."
"Can't just now, Crosby." He motioned me away nervously. "Not possible.See you up in the country any time, and tell you all you want. Nothere," and he moved toward the door.
"You can't help yourself," said I, "and I won't keep you long. Sit downagain, please." He had lugged out his watch. "You'll have to miss yourtrain, but there are plenty more."
The giant scowled at me with obvious willingness to begin a disturbancethen and there; and Reid glanced hesitatingly from the one to the otherof us, his impulse printed plain upon his face.
"Certainly," I put in, "you can get rid of me in that way, for themoment, if it's worth your while. Make up your mind--you're the doctor."
He started angrily, flushing to the roots of his close-cropped hair; andI thought for an instant that I had mistaken my man. Then the melodramaoozed out of him. He dismissed the unwilling bully with a whispered wordor two, and sat sullenly down across the table.
"I'll make it as short as you please," I retorted. "Carucci's wife issent down to see that he sails. I'm sent down to see that she makesgood. Now you come down and have him shanghaied. Was this your own idea,or were you--"
"No. My own initiative entirely. Only practical way of making sure thathe went. Best to see to it personally. Always better to do the thingyourself, and then you know it's done."
"I understand, then, that Mr. Tabor didn't suggest this to you?"
"Exactly. Tabor knows nothing about it. My own idea altogether." Histriumph in his own efficiency was overriding his annoyance. "Better saynothing to him whatever. He has enough to think of. Always best to avoidtrouble. The man's gone, and there's an end to it. Is that all?"
So Reid's own fear of Carucci had been intense enough to drive him tothis dirty alternative rather than trust to our sending the man safelyaway. There was something unnatural here.
"Not quite," I said. "Of course, you know the exact nature of thefellow's blackmailing story?"
"Certainly. Pack of lies. Won't discuss it. Utterly absurd, the wholething, but we can't have it go any further."
"Precisely, and it won't go any further, now. What I want to know is thefoundation for it. You must see the reason for my knowing that much ofthe facts, and for trusting me with them. If there is anyentanglement--"
"Look here, Crosby," Reid leaned forward across the table, his facescarlet and working, "that'll do. I don't propose to sift over my lifewith you. Not for a minute. What's more, if we could afford a row, I'dpunch your head for having the assurance to repeat that infernal slanderto my face. That's all, you understand? That's all."
"There's plenty of time for that," I said, lowering my voiceinstinctively, as I felt my own temper slipping. "I'll ask you just onemore question. On your word, is Miriam Tabor alive, or not?"
I never saw a man so broken by a word. He turned from red to greenishwhite, the perspiration shining on his forehead; and for a moment itseemed that he could not speak. Then he dragged the words out hoarselyand unnaturally.
"You've taken a damned cowardly advantage--Miriam Tabor was my wife, andshe's dead. Now are you satisfied? Because I'm not."
There was nothing to add. I rose in silence, and we made our way to thedoor. On the sidewalk, he waited for me to choose my direction; thenwithout a word, turned pointedly in the opposite one, and walked quicklyaway.
I set out for the Carucci tenement in a state of no great comfort. Byforcing a scene I had gained nothing; and I had made an overt enemy ofDoctor Reid. Not that I was particularly concerned over thatdevelopment; I had never liked the man from the first; and I wasimpressed not so much by what he had said as by his open anddisproportionate confusion. Think what I might of my own side of theaffair, Reid had confessed to a personal concern with Carucci; he hadflown into a rage upon my asking for an explanation; and the name ofMiriam had stricken him like a blow. He had told me nothing, after all,and had made me the more anxious over what he refused to tell. If he hadbeen absolutely in the right, I had done nothing worse than to touchupon a grief brutally; and he would have said precisely what he did sayif I had been justified and he had been lying. Well, Carucci was out ofreach, and Reid worse than silenced. What chance remained to me of ananswer to my problem depended upon Sheila.
I had no time to doubt if I should find her; for her window was lightedup, and she herself plainly to be seen, leaning far out to watch thestreet below as I turned the corner. When I was still half way up theblock, she called to me by name, bidding me come up at once; and Ianswered as I picked my way along, trying to reassure her. The scene fora moment resembled a ludicrous burlesque of a serenade; nor did thestreet miss anything of its humor. With one accord the women in thedoorways, the lounging men about the lamps and the scurrying screaminggroups of youngsters underfoot caught up the implication, and began ababel of jocose advice and criticism in a dozen languages. And althoughI understood but little of it, and was somewhat preoccupied with gravermatters, yet I was fain to dive hurriedly into the doorway with aheated and tingling countenance. The little room was itself again, savefor a dull spot upon the clean-scrubbed boards; and the canary in thewindow paused in a burst of singing as I entered.
"Sheila," I said, "I am very much afraid you won't like my news."
"Well, sir, what's happened him?" she asked briefly.
"You're right," I answered. "It's your husband, but it's nothing to bealarmed about, nothing at all dangerous. You must--"
"For the love av God, don't thry to break things to me, sir. Speak rightout. He's not hurt, ye say; well, he's pinched then, I suppose."
"No, it's not the police. He's been shanghaied, if you know what thatmeans."
"Crimped? It's thrue for ye, I know; 'tis twice before he's been, butwho done it I never could tell. Av I thought anny av my folk that'safraid av his silly tongue wud do that dhirty thrick--" she stoppedshort, her strong face working.
I was rather angry myself. "Well, Sheila, I don't believe they hadanything to do with it before; but it was Doctor Reid who had it doneto-day. I was there, but it was over before I understood what was goingon."
"Reid? I shud ha' known 'twas Reid, the shamblin' scun he is, an' smallgood them that loved him best ever had av him! Now, the divil hould hisdhirty little pinch av a soul! For why shud he harm my man?"
"That's what I want to know," I said. "He's afraid of what Antonio saysabout him, and you know--"
"As far as his story ever goes it'll harm no man," she burst out, "theyknow well he's all bark an' no bite, if they weren't all crazy-afraidtogether, an' a truer man anny day than that blagyard body-snatchin'pill-roller. His own guilty heart it is, whisperin' over his shoulder,an' me poor lamb that he married an' murthered, and the child av his ownbody on the one day! An' the poor mother they're callin' crazy, with thesoul av the daughter she cudn't let free standin' between her an' thesunshine. Crazy she'll never be until they make her so, with theirdoctors an' questions an' whispers, an' that death-fetch Reid grinnin'before her face, with the blood not dhry on him!" She paused for breath,walking up and down the room and twisting her hands.
"Sit down, Sheila," I said, "you know this is absurd. I'm trying to geta little truth about people we both care for; and if you say things likethat, how can you expect me to believe anything?" But my knees weretrembling as I spoke.
"Mudhered it was all the same," she said sullenly, dropping back into achair nevertheless. "When a docthor with all the learnin' that goesbeyond the knowledge av a woman lets his wife die an' an innocent miteav a new-born baby go down to the grave with her, 'tis black murder itis, no less. How could she rest quiet after that, an' half her lifecallin' to her, an' the mother that wouldn't let her go, an' had thepower to see? 'Tis no
docthor she wants, but a priest, an' no medicinebut a handful av holy wather, like my own sister's cousin Nora that usedto sit an' talk with her lad that was dead evenin's by the byre wall,an' Father Tracy came behind an' sprinkled the two av thim, the one hecould see an' the one he could not see."
"Who was it that died?" I asked sharply. "Was it Miriam? Did Reid lie tome when he said so, or did Carucci lie when he said that Reid wasmarried to Lady?"
She grew suddenly quiet and cautious, as if she had said too muchalready, and must weigh her words.
"Reid told ye the truth for once," she muttered. "'Twas Antonio lied."
"Then Miriam was his wife, and Lady--"
"Yes," she answered, "it was Miriam," but she did not meet my eyes. Thenshe went on hastily, before I could speak again.
"Ye see, sir, 'twas like this: When Miriam died, her mother's heartnearly went with her, an' so because the poor dear loved her more thanenough, she did not go quite away. 'Tis so some whiles, when the livin'holds too close by the dead. She used to talk to her, an' when thevillain that let her die got doctors an' looked like judgment, an' saidmy poor soul was wrong in her head, an' ought to be taken away, an' theymoved her out there in the counthry where they had no friends, an' kepther hidden as if there was a shame upon her, sure the lovin' soul of thedead girl followed her mother. They said she was crazy when she madethem move her daughter's room, an' keep it up in the new house as it hadbeen in the old, an' would sit an' talk to her there. Sure, 'twas nosign at all, an' a black lie in Reid's black heart to set the husbandan' the daughter again' her. Some folks are that way, that can see thefairy folk an' the goblins, an' speak with the wandherin' dead. A goodpriest Mrs. Tabor should have when the power tires her, an' not a lyin'schemin' brute av a docthor that wants to put her away. 'Twas not muchat first anyhow. But he turned their heads with his talk av asylums an'horrors to lead them away from his own wickedness."
"Is that the secret, then?" I asked. "Is the trouble no more than theirfear that Mrs. Tabor is insane?"
"Secret? What secret? There's no secret they have at all, only a wickedlie." She was growing careful again. "'Tis all that docthor that's neverhappy but doin' harm. She's no more crazy than meself, an' no one thinksnor fears it, not even him. They only say so, because--" She stoppedherself again.
"Sheila," I said, "tell me just one thing. How much truth is there inwhat your husband says?"
"How do I know what he says?" She was watching me closely, as if to seethat I followed her words. "He's dhrunk half the time, poor divil, an'he says one thing to-day an' one to-morrow. Never ye mind him, sir."
"But there must have been something for him to go on," I persisted."Did Reid have some affair abroad before his marriage, or not?"
She hesitated, her apparent hatred of Reid struggling with her loyaltyto the family and her recovered caution.
"There was some matther av a woman in Germany," she said at last,reluctantly, "but I never rightly knew about it, nor Antonio either."Then more rapidly: "An' it's angry I've been, Mr. Crosby, an' 'tis likeI've said more meself than I mean." She paused.
"Has that nothing to do with the trouble in the family? Sheila, you knowI'm their good friend, and I'm not merely gossiping. You must haveseen--" for the life of me I could not go on.
"I'll say no more," she answered obstinately. "It's weary I am for you,an' the poor darlin' that's bewitched ye, but--" her eyes filled, andshe shut her mouth with a snap. Say what I would after that, I could notmove her. She had said enough already, and she trusted a gentleman likeme that it should go no further. That was all.
"Sheila," I said, as I rose to go, "is all you have told me true?"
"Thrue?" she started as if I had struck her. "Yes, it's thrue--an'sorrow fell them that made it so."
I took up my hat and stick from the table.
"We will have another talk about this some day, Sheila," I said. And Iclosed the door behind me.
The Professor's Mystery Page 19