CHAPTER X
THE MISSING HAT
That very evening, as I was sitting quietly in my office, trying todivert my mind from the murder by reading, my boy came in and told methat there was a lady in the waiting-room who wanted to see me.There was something so peculiar about the way he imparted this verycommonplace information that my curiosity was aroused; but I refrainedfrom questioning him, and curtly bade him show the lady in.
When she appeared I was no longer surprised at his manner, for a morestrange and melodramatic figure I have seldom seen, even on the stage.The woman was tall and draped, or rather shrouded, in a long, blackcloak, and a thick black veil was drawn down over her face. Her costume,especially considering the excessive heat, and that the clock pointed to9.15, was alone enough to excite comment; but to a singularity in dressshe added an even greater singularity of manner. She entered the roomhesitatingly, and paused near the threshold to glance apprehensivelyabout her, as if fearing the presence of some hidden enemy. The womanmust be mad, I thought, as I motioned her to a chair and sat downopposite to her.
With a theatrical gesture, she threw back her veil, and to myastonishment I recognised the handsome, rotund features of--MadameArgot! She smiled, evidently enjoying my bewilderment.
"Meestair Docteur, I no disturb you?" she inquired.
"Certainly not, madame; what can I do for you?"
"Ah, meestair," she whispered, looking towards the door, "I so afraidzat my 'usban' 'e come back and fin' me gone; 'e terribly angry!"
"Why should he be angry?" I asked.
"He no like me to speak viz you. He no vant me to show you zis," sheanswered, pointing mysteriously to her left shoulder.
"What is it that he doesn't want me to see?"
"I go show you," and, opening her dress, she disclosed two terriblebruises, each as large as the palm of my hand; "and zat is not all," shecontinued, and, as she turned round, I saw that a deep gash disfiguredone of her shoulder-blades.
I was really shocked.
"How did this happen?" I inquired.
"Oh, I fall," she said, smiling coquettishly at me.
"A very queer fall," I muttered.
The wound was several days old and not serious, but, owing to neglect,had got into a very bad condition.
"Ah, zat is better," she exclaimed, with a sigh of relief, when I hadthoroughly cleansed the cut. I was just preparing to bandage it up, whenshe stopped me.
"No, meestair; not zat! My 'usban', 'e see zat, 'e know I come here, andzen 'e angry. Ze vashin' and ze salve zey make me better!"
"But look here, my good woman," I exclaimed, indignantly; "do you meanto say that your husband is such a brute that he objects to your havingyour wound dressed--a wound that you got in such a peculiar way, too?"
Her manner changed instantly; she drew herself haughtily up, and beganbuttoning up her dress.
"My 'usban' 'e no brute; 'e verra nice man; 'e love' me verra much."
"Really!"
"Yes," she asserted, "'e love me much, _oh oui, je vous assure qu'ilm'adore_!" and she tossed her head and looked at me through the thicklashes of her half-closed eyes; "'e man, you know, 'e sometime jealous,"she continued, smiling, as if his jealousy were a feather in her cap.
"Well, Madame Argot; that cut should be looked after, and, as it is insuch a place that you cannot properly attend to it yourself, you mustcome in here every day, and I will dress it for you. Your husbandcannot carry his devotion so far as to object to your covering it with aclean piece of linen, so I advise you to do that."
"Alla right, meestair, and zank you verra much. I come again ven Ican, ven my 'usban' 'e go out sometime," and, after carefully wrappingherself up again, she sallied forth with infinite precautions.
Of course, the woman is a silly fool, and eaten up with vanity, butshe had been pretty roughly handled, and that she should considersuch treatment a tribute to her charms, seemed to me perfectlyincomprehensible.
After reading for some time longer, I decided to go to bed, and,therefore, went into the front room to turn the lights out. Having doneso, I lingered near the window, for the temperature here was at leastseveral degrees cooler than the room I had just left. Although it wasstill early, the street appeared to be completely deserted, not afootfall was to be heard. As I stood there, half hidden by the curtain,a queer muffled noise fell upon my ears. It seemed to come from outside,and I moved nearer to the window, so as to try and discover what itcould be. As I did so, a white face, not a foot away, peered suddenlyinto mine. I was so startled that I fell back a step, and before Irecovered myself the creature was gone. I rushed out into the hall,and, unfastening the front door as quickly as I could, dashed into thestreet. Not a soul was in sight! The slight delay had given the fellow achance to escape. Who could it have been? I wondered. A burglar, temptedby my open window? Or Argot, perhaps? This latter supposition was muchthe more alarming. What if he had seen his wife come out of my office? Ithought of the murdered man, and shuddered. Notwithstanding the heat, Ishut and bolted the window, and, as an extra precaution, also locked thedoor which connected the front room with my office and bedroom. I had nomind to be the next victim of an insane man's jealousy. All night longI was haunted by that white face! More and more it appeared to me toresemble Argot, till at last I determined to see Mr. Merritt and ask himif we had not sufficient grounds to warrant the Frenchman's arrest.
But when the morning came, things looked very different. Fred's secondletter (which I have inserted in the place where it rightly belongs inthe development of this story) arrived, and the thought of May Derwent'sillness put everything else out of my mind. I might as well confess atonce, that with me it had been a case of love at first sight, and thatfrom the day I saw her at the Rosemere the dearest wish of my heart wasto have her for my wife. And now she was ill and another man--a man whoalso loved her--had been summoned by her to fill the place I coveted.The consciousness of _his_ devotion would uphold her during herillness, and his company help to while away the weary hours ofconvalescence. And here was I, tied to my post, and forced to abandonthe field to another without even a struggle. For I felt it would belittle short of murder to desert my patients while the thermometer stoodhigh in the nineties and most of the other doctors were out of town. Butif I could not go to my lady, she should, at any rate, have something ofmine to bear her company. Rushing out to a nearby florist's I bought outhalf his stock. Of course, my gift had to go to her anonymously, but,even so, it was a comfort to me to think that, perhaps, my roses mightbe chosen to brighten her sick room. At all events, they would serve toremind her that there were other men in the world who loved her besidesthe one who was with her at that moment.
The afternoon edition of the _New York Bugle_ contained the announcementthat Mrs. Greywood had arrived in town that morning, and, on being shownthe body of the Rosemere victim, had emphatically denied that it wasthat of her son. She thinks that the latter has gone off cruising, whichhe has been expecting to do for some time past; and that, of course,would explain his not having been heard from. The possibility of MayDerwent's having been, even indirectly implicated in the murder, wasthus finally disposed of. But I had been so sure, from the very first,of the ultimate result of their investigations, that Mrs. Greywood'sstatement was hardly a relief to me. Of course, I was very glad that nodetective would now have an excuse for prying into my darling's affairs.Otherwise, I was entirely indifferent to their suspicions.
But these various occurrences helped to obliterate the memory of theevents of the previous night, and, as I had no time to hunt up thedetective, I decided to think no more about my strange adventure.
I was rather late in leaving the hospital that afternoon, and when Ireached home my boy told me that several patients were already waitingfor me. I hurried into my office and sat down at my desk, on which anumber of letters had accumulated. I was looking these over when I heardthe door open, and, glancing up, my eyes fell upon--Argot! I stared athim for a moment in silence. Could this reserved and high
ly respectableperson be my visitor of the night before? Never, I concluded. He stoodrespectfully near the door, till I motioned him to a seat. He satgingerly down on the very edge of the chair, and, laying his hat on mydesk, pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his forehead. I waited forhim to begin, which he seemed to find some difficulty in doing. At lasthe said:
"Meestair, I come about a verra sad zing."
"Yes?" I inquired.
"You 'ave seen my vife?"
I did not answer at once; then, as I was uncertain how much he knew, Idecided that it would be safest to confine myself to a bare nod.
"She is a verra fine woman, not?" he demanded, with visible pride.
"Very much so," I assented. What could he be leading up to, I wondered?
"But, helas," he continued, "she is a little--" here he touched hisforehead significantly, while he gazed at me less keenly from under hisbushy brows.
"Really, you surprise me," was all I said.
"She quite wild some time," he insisted.
"Indeed?"
"Yes; she do some strange zings; she verra good vife--sough--verra goodcook." He paused.
"What are you telling me all this for? What do you want me to do aboutit?" I inquired.
"Eh bien, Meestair; it is because she vant to come to see you, and shelike you to be sorry, so she 'ave t'rowed herself down and 'ave 'urt'erself. She lika ze mens too much," he added, fiercely, while amalignant expression flitted across his face.
It no longer seemed to me impossible that this middle-aged butler andthe apparition of the night before could be identical, and there andthen I determined that in future a pistol should repose in the topdrawer of my desk.
"Perhaps your wife is slightly hysterical," I suggested.
Now, for the first time, my eyes left his face, and happened to fall onhis hat, which was lying brim upwards at my elbow. My astonishment, whenI noticed that the initials A. B. were printed in large letters on theinner band, was so great that I could hardly control myself. I lookedfor the maker's name--Halstead, Chicago, I made out. Could this be themissing hat? It seemed incredible. Argot would never dare display soopenly such a proof of his guilt! But if he were demented (which Ifirmly believed him to be) would not this flaunting of his crime be oneof the things one might expect of an insane man? I had been so startledthat it was some minutes before I dared raise my eyes, fearing thattheir expression would betray me. I have absolutely no idea what he wastalking about during that time, but the next sentence I caught was: "Shevill, she vill come, but you jus' say, nonsense, zat is nossing, and zenshe go."
"Very well," I assured him, anxious to get rid of the fellow. "I quiteunderstand;" and, rising from my chair, I dismissed him with a nod.
My office was still full of people, and I think that seeing those otherpatients was about the most difficult thing I ever did. But at last eventhat ordeal was over, and I was able to start out in search of thedetective. I had a good deal of difficulty in finding him, and, aftertelephoning all over creation, at last met him accidentally, not farfrom the Rosemere. I was so excited that I hailed him from a long wayoff, pointing significantly the while to my hat. By Jove, you shouldhave seen him sprint! I had no idea those short legs of his could makesuch good time. We met almost directly in front of my door.
"What is it?" he panted.
Without answering, I took him by the elbow and led him into the house.He sank exhausted into one of my office chairs.
"What's up?" he repeated.
"Well," I began slowly, for I meant to enjoy my small triumph to thefull, "I only wanted to ask you if you have yet found the missing hat?"
"No; have you?"
"No; I can't say I have." His face fell perceptibly. "But I know where astraw hat bearing the name of a Chicago hatter, and with the initials,'A. B.,' stamped on the inside band, can be found," I added.
"You don't say so? Where is it?" He spoke quietly, but I noticed thathis eyes glistened.
"I don't quite know where it is at this moment, but when I last saw it,it was on this desk."
"On this desk, and you allowed it--" He paused, speechless with disgust.
"Certainly, I allowed it to be taken away, if that is what you mean.However, you can easily get it again. It is not far off. But, I assureyou, I have no intention of appearing in the character of the corpse inanother sensational tragedy."
"Who brought it here?" demanded Mr. Merritt.
"Well, do you think that Argot would be a likely person?" I asked.
"Argot!" He was evidently surprised.
"Yes, Argot." And I told him all that I had lately discovered aboutthe couple, and of their separate visits to me. Neither did I fail tomention the strange apparition of the night before, which had caused meso much uneasiness.
He seemed much impressed, and stared gravely before him for someminutes.
"You are really not at all sure that the white face belonged to Argot,are you?"
"No," I acknowledged.
"Well, Doctor," he continued, after a slight pause, "it's a queer thingthat, just as you have succeeded in persuading me that a hat-pin ishardly a masculine weapon, and that, therefore, I ought to look for amurderess, and not a murderer, you, on the other hand, should have cometo the conclusion that a man is the perpetrator of this crime."
"Ah! but you see, Mr. Merritt, I don't believe the victim was killed bya hat-pin. I think he was pierced through the heart by a skewer, which,in a kitchen, Argot would have found under his hand."
"Well, Doctor, you may be right. Live and learn, I always say. I shallat once call on the Argots, and have a look at this hat."
"Don't you think you had better have him arrested, first, and questionhim afterwards? I am convinced he is insane, and likely to becomeviolent at any moment; we don't want any more murders, you know."
"That is all very well, Doctor; but I can't have the fellow arrestedtill I have something to go on. The hat you saw may not be the one wewant; or, again, Argot may have found it."
"Well, if you insist on bearding him, let me go with you."
"Certainly not. You are young, and--well, not uncalculated to arouse hismarital jealousy, while I," patting his portly person, "am not likelyto cause him any such anxieties. Even age and fat have their uses,sometimes."
"But he may try to cut your throat," I objected.
"One of my men will be just outside, and will probably get to me beforehe has quite finished me." He had risen, and stood with his hand on thedoor-knob.
"Look here, Doctor, I'd like to bet you that Argot is innocent, and thata woman, and a mighty pretty woman, too, is the guilty party."
"All right, Mr. Merritt; I'll take you. I bet you fifty dollars that aman committed this crime."
"Done!" exclaimed the detective, and, pulling out his pocket-book, herecorded the bet with great care. He looked at me for a moment longerwith one of those quiet enigmatic smiles of his, and departed.
I watched him cross the street and enter the back door of the Rosemere.A moment afterwards a shabby-looking man came slouching along andstopped just outside, apparently absorbed in watching something in thegutter. The detective remained only a minute or so in the building, andwhen he came out he gave me a slight nod, which I interpreted as a signthat Argot was not at home. He took not the slightest notice of thetramp, and, turning north, trotted briskly up town.
As I watched him disappear, I wondered what made him so sure of theFrenchman's innocence, and I tried vainly to guess who the woman couldbe whom he now had in mind. Miss Derwent, I was glad to say, was outof the question. He himself had proved to me by the most convincingarguments that Mrs. Atkins could not be guilty. And who else was thereto suspect? For the criminal must have been an inmate of the building.That was one of the few facts which the detective claimed wasestablished beyond a doubt.
The House Opposite: A Mystery Page 10