CHAPTER XI
MADAME ARGOT'S MAD HUSBAND.
After my interview with the detective, I went out to visit somepatients, and on my way home I met young Atkins, whom I had notseen since the preceding Thursday. Although we had met but once, herecognised me immediately, and greeted me most cordially. I was,however, shocked to see what havoc a short week had wrought in hislooks. His face was drawn and pale, and he appeared nervous and ill atease. Notwithstanding he had been walking in the opposite direction, heat once turned back, and we sauntered towards Madison Avenue together.Our chief topic of conversation was naturally the murder, and we bothremarked how strange it was that the identity of the victim had not yetbeen established.
"I suppose," said Atkins, "that we shall now never know who the man was,for I hear he was buried yesterday."
"Oh, that doesn't at all follow," I assured him; "photographs have beentaken of the corpse, and, if necessary, it can be exhumed at any time."
Was my imagination playing me a trick, or was the young fellow reallytroubled by this information? We had now reached my destination, and, asI held out my hand to bid him good-bye, I said: "I am afraid Mrs. Atkinsmust have such unpleasant associations with me that she will not care tohave me recalled to her notice; otherwise I should ask you to rememberme to her. I hope she is well, and has not suffered too much from thisprolonged heat?"
"I fear she's not very well," he replied. "It seems to have upset hernerves a good deal to have a murder occur in the building."
"Yes, that is only natural. Wouldn't it be advisable to take her awayfrom here for a short time?" I suggested.
"I only wish she'd go; but she's got some maggot in her head, andrefuses to stir." He paused a moment and glanced almost timidly at me.
"Doctor," he burst out, "I wish you'd come and dine with us thisevening. It would be a real kindness. Wife and I both have the blues,and you'd cheer us up no end."
I was rather taken aback by his eagerness. "I'm very sorry, I can'tpossibly do so to-night, for I've just promised to dine with an oldfriend, who is only in town for a short time."
"Well, if you can't come to-night, won't you come to-morrow?" he urged.
I hesitated a moment. On the one hand I was anxious to oblige Atkins,whom I liked, and quite curious to see his wife again, and fathom, ifpossible, the cause of the change in her husband; while, on the otherhand, I felt some delicacy about invading a lady's home when I hadreason to believe that my being there would not be agreeable to her, forI remembered that she had refused even to look at me on leaving thecoroner's presence.
"If you are sure Mrs. Atkins would care to see me, I shall be delightedto accept your invitation."
"Why should she object to see you?" he demanded.
"There is really no reason," I hastened to explain; "only as you tell meyour wife has been much upset by the murder, and is consequently rathernervous at present, I don't wish to inflict myself on her if there isthe least danger that my company may recall that tragic occurrence toovividly to her."
Atkins gave me a long, penetrating look, but having apparently satisfiedhimself that I had given my real reason, he said:
"Nonsense, Doctor! Mrs. Atkins isn't as unreasonable as that. I'm sureshe'll be glad to see you. Now, remember, we shall expect you at sevensharp to-morrow."
"All right," I called back to him.
I have given such a long account of this trifling incident, because forsome time afterwards I could not get the young fellow's face out ofmy mind, and I kept imagining all sorts of possible, and impossible,reasons for his changed looks. Could it be that he suspected themurdered man to have been a friend of his wife's, and feared that shemight have some guilty knowledge of his death?
As I realised how such a thought would torture him, I wanted to go atonce and tell him how my first grave suspicions had been confirmed, tillnow I was fully convinced of Argot's guilt. But, fearing that someinjudicious word might show him that I had guessed the cause of hisanxiety, I refrained. That evening after dining quietly at the Club withan old school-fellow I walked slowly home, down Madison Avenue, which,with its long rows of houses, almost all of which were closed up for thesummer, presented an extremely dreary aspect. Although it was barelynine o'clock, the streets in that part of the town were well nighdeserted, everyone who could do so having fled from the city. Thenight was extremely dark, damp and hot. As I was nearing my office, Iobserved that the back door of the Rosemere was being cautiously opened,and a woman's head, covered with a thick veil, peeped out. Madame Argot,I thought, and so it proved. Having satisfied herself that her lord andmaster was not in sight, she darted across the street, and disappearedin my house. I hurried up, so as not to keep her waiting, and, as Idid so, I fancied I heard some one running behind me. Turning quicklyaround, I detected nothing suspicious. The only person I could see was avery fat man, whom I had passed several blocks back. Was he nearer thanhe should have been? I couldn't tell. At any rate, he was still farenough away for it to be impossible to distinguish his features, butas I was sure that he was not Argot, I did not wait for him to come upwith me. On entering the reception room, I found Madame, still heavilyveiled, huddled up in a corner, where she thought she could not be seenfrom the street. I told her to go into the office and, approaching thewindow, I looked out. There was still nobody in sight except the fatman, and he had crossed over, and was ambling quietly along on the otherside of the way. He was almost opposite now, and, after looking at himcritically, I decided that it was too improbable that the running footsteps I had heard following me had been his. But whose were they, then?I trusted that the murder had not affected my nerves, also. At any rate,I decided to take the precaution of shutting and bolting the window,and of pulling down the blind, none of which things, during this hotweather, had I been in the habit of doing. But I did not intend togive that white-faced apparition, to whom I attributed the mysteriousfootsteps, the chance of falling upon me unaware, especially not whileMadame Argot was on the premises.
"Well, how goes it?" I inquired, when I at last rejoined her.
"Oh, much, much better, Meestair."
I saw, indeed, when I examined the cut, that it was healing splendidly.
"Meestair Docteur," she began as soon as I had settled down to dress herwound, "'usban' 'e come 'ere zis mornin'?"
"Yes," I assented.
"Ana what 'e say, Meestair?"
"Oh, I can't tell you that! Yon wouldn't like me to repeat to him allthat you say to me, would you?"
"No; but zen, me is different; I know 'e say zat me a bad 'oman; I know,I know!"
"Indeed, he said nothing of the sort, and if you don't keep a littlequieter, I shall really not be able to do my work properly."
"Oh, pardon; I vill be so good."
"By the way," I inquired, "did Mr. Merritt call on you to-day?"
"Ah! you means ze gentleman vat I see, ven I go ze dead man's?"
"Yes."
"He a big policeman, not?" she asked.
"Well, not a very big one," I answered, with a smile, "but he does agood deal of important work for the police."
"Ah, yes. Important, _oui_," she nodded. "Vy 'e come see my 'usban'? Doyou know? I not know; my 'usban', 'e not know, eizer."
"He didn't see your husband, then?"
"No; Argot, he not in."
"Well, I think Mr. Merritt is looking for a hat containing the initials,A. B., and he wanted to ask your husband if he had found it, by anychance."
She started up quite regardless of her wound.
"Ah, _par example, oui_! Yes, indeed," she exclaimed, vehemently.
"Your husband has found such a hat?"
"Yes, yes; I tell you. 'e make _une_ scenes about zat 'at!" she burstout, angrily.
"But why?" I asked. "Why should he make a scene about it?"
"Ah!" she said, tossing her head coquettishly, though real annoyancestill lingered in her voice, "'e say it is ze 'at of my lover!"
"Really? Have you a lover whose initials are A. B.?"
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"I 'ave no lover at all, Meestair! but I 'ave a cousin whose names beginvis zose letters."
"I see; but how did your husband happen to get his hat?"
"I not know; Argot 'e come in von evenin'----"
"What evening?" I interrupted.
"Tuesday evening, las' veek--" I suppose my face betrayed my excitement,for she stopped and asked, anxiously: "Vat is ze matter?"
"Nothing, nothing! go on; I am merely much interested in your story.Well, what happened on Tuesday?"
"Vell, Meestair," she resumed, "my 'usban' 'e go out to ze restaurantvere ze Frenchmens zey go play cards. Zen my cousin, M. Andre Besnard,'e come to call. My 'usban' 'e not zere, but I say, sit down; perhapsArgot 'e come in. My cousin 'e live in Chicago; 'e never seen my'usban'; 'e not know 'e jealous. So 'e stay, ana 'e stay, an ve talks ofFrance, ven ve vas chil'ren, and I forgets ze time, till I 'ears ze bellvat my 'usban' 'e ring, ana I looks at ze clocks an I see it say eleven.Zen I frightened. I know Argot dreadful angry if 'e fin' a man so latevis me. So I say, go avay, quick; my 'usban' 'e jealous; 'e no believeyou my cousin. Go up ze stairs an' 'ide on ze next floor. Ven my 'usban''e come in, I shut ze kitchen door, and zen you can come down and goout. All vould 'ave been vell if 'e done zis, but zat imbecile 'e peepedover ze bannisters ven my 'usban' come in. But my 'usban' not quite sure'e see somebody, so 'e say nossing, but ven I shut ze kitchen door 'esit near it an' listen, and in a few minutes I 'ears creek, creek, an''e 'ears it, too; an' 'e jumps up, and I jumps up, for I afraid 'e killmy cousin; 'e look so angry. An' I puts my arms quite around 'im an' 'efights, but I hold on, an' 'e falls vis me, an' so I got my bruises; butI no care, for I 'ears ze front door slam, so I knows Andre is safe. Ina minute my 'usban' he up and rushes out, an' me too; but ven I seeAndre is gone, I come back, but Argot 'e not come back."
"Your husband did not come back, you say?"
"No; 'e stay looking for Andre----"
"How long was it before he came in again?"
"Ah! I not know," she exclaimed, impatiently, "'alf an hour, vone hour;me get tired an' I go to bed. Ven Argot 'e come in 'e terribly angry; 'estorm; 'e rage; 'e say, zat vas your lover; I say, no; zat vas nobodyI knows. But helas, I am unfortunate, for 'e find Andre's card vat 'eleft, for Andre quite ze gentleman; zen, I sink, 'e have a fit; 'e swear'e kill Andre. But 'e not know vere Andre is, because zere is no addresson ze cards, but I know vere 'e is, for Andre 'e told me. So ze nextmornin' I writes to my cousin an' tell 'im my 'usban' 'e come for tokill 'im. But Argot 'e go out every day to try an' fin' 'im. And 'e notfin' im," she wound up, triumphantly, "because a friend of mine she tellme zat Andre 'ave left New York an' 'ave gone back to Chicago."
"Did your cousin look much like the corpse?"
"Ah, but not at all. My cousin 'e little man vid no beard, for 'e is avaitor."
"And you are sure your husband did not know him by sight."
"But certain," she asserted, vehemently.
"And you have no idea how your husband got hold of his hat?"
"No, Meestair, for I t'ought zat Andre 'e took 'is 'at. An' Argot 'e saynossing about it till vone day----"
"What day?" I interrupted, again.
"Oh! vat zat matter? Thursday or Friday of last veek, I sinks. Vell, Icome into the kitchen and zere is my 'usban' vis zat 'at. An' 'e glaresat me. I no understand; I say, Vat you got? Vy don't you sit down, an'take off your at? 'e say, it is not my 'at; it 'as A. B. inside it, an'I vill vear it till I can bring you ze 'ead of zis A. B.; zis charmingcousin whom you love so much. Yes! vait only, an' you shall have it, an'zen you shall vatch it rot!! And you dare say nossing--nossing,--for yoube afraid ve gets 'anged for murder. But _I_ say it no murder to kill zelover of my vife. I say, Argot, you crazy; vere you get zat 'at? 'e say,Never min'."
"Aren't you afraid to stay with your husband? In one of his fits ofinsane jealousy he might kill you."
"Oh, no," she assured me; "'e beat me, but 'e no kill me; 'e love metoo much. It make 'im too sad if I die. But tell me vy Andre 'e send zepolice for 'is 'at?"
Before I could answer her, I heard a crash in the hall, and two voicesraised in vehement altercation. One of the voices belonged to my boy;the other, I didn't recognise.
"My 'usban'," whispered Madame Argot; "'e kill you."
She was as pale as death, and trembling with terror.
"No, you don't, sir; no, you don't," I heard the boy say. "Nobody goesinto the Doctor's office, without being announced, while I'm here."
I rushed to the door leading into the hall, and had only just time toturn the key before a heavy mass was hurled against it. Luckily, thedoor was pretty solid, but it couldn't stand many such onslaughts.Quickly locking the other one, which opened into the waiting-room, Iturned back to Madame Argot. What was to be done with her? For I was farfrom sharing her belief in her own safety. My office has only one othermeans of exit, as you know. This is a third door leading to my bed-roomand bath-room. I decided at once that it was useless trying to hideMadame in either of these places. Any moment the door might give waybefore her husband's insane strength, and, then, it would infuriate himstill more to find his wife in such a compromising position. No, thewindow, which opened on a small court, was our only hope. It was not abig drop to the ground, and, once there, she could easily make her wayto the street, through the janitor's apartment. Without a word, I seizedher and dragged her to the window.
"Put your feet out," I whispered; "give me your hands, and now letyourself go. It won't hurt you, and you will be able to escape throughthe basement."
"I cannot; I am afraid," she murmured, drawing back.
A pistol shot rang out, followed by the sound of splintering wood. I hadno time to turn around, and see what had happened.
"Jump at once," I commanded.
She obeyed, almost unconscious from fear. She was pretty heavy, andvery nearly had me out, too, but I managed to draw back, although theexertion was such that my arms ached for several hours afterwards. Istopped a moment to close the window partly, fearing that if I left itwide open, it might attract the madman's attention, and that he would beafter her before she had time to get to a place of safety.
Turning back into the room, I saw that a bullet had pierced one of thepanels of the door around which the fight seemed to be centred. A minutemore, and it would give way. I rushed to the other one, and, quicklyunlocking it, dashed through the waiting room, and caught the lunaticin the rear. With a bound, I was upon him, my two hands encircling histhroat.
"Stand clear of that pistol!" I shouted, as Argot (for it was indeed he)tried to fire over his shoulder. A young man I had not seen beforesprang forward, and, seizing his arm, bent it back till it caused a yellof pain and the pistol fell from the madman's grasp. At this juncturethe janitor appeared, and the four of us had little difficulty inoverpowering the fellow, although he still fought like a demon. As soonas he was safely bound, I sent my boy to telephone for an ambulance.I now observed, for the first time, that Argot had evidently tried todisguise himself. An enormous pillow, stuffed inside his trousers, andseveral towels, wound around his shoulders, gave him the appearance ofextreme obesity. So, after all, he had been the fat man, and the runningfootsteps had been his. Well, I was glad that one mystery, at least, wascleared up.
The young stranger, whose opportune appearance had, in all probability,saved my life, still knelt beside the prostrate man, and he and I,together, succeeded in preventing him from breaking his bonds during oneof his many paroxysms of frenzy.
"Thank you very much for your timely assistance," I said; "you are abrave man."
"Oh, not at all," he replied; "I am on duty here; I've been shadowingthis man all the evening."
We had an awful job getting Argot into the ambulance, and I confess Inever felt more relieved in my life than when I saw him safely locked upin a padded cell.
As I was coming away from the hospital, I met Merritt hurrying towardsit.
"Hello!" he called out; "is it all over?"
"Yes; he's loc
ked up, if that's what you mean."
"Well, Doctor, you've had a pretty lively time of it, my man tells me."
"It's entirely owing to your forethought, in having Argot immediatelywatched, that some of us are alive at present."
"You don't say; well, let's have a drink to celebrate the occasion. Youlook a little white around the gills, Doctor."
After tossing down my second bracer, I said: "Well, Mr. Merritt, how doyou feel about your bet now?"
"Oh, all right," he answered, with a twinkle in his eye.
I stared at him in bewilderment. Then, remembering that of course he hadnot yet heard Madame's story, I proceeded at once to impart it to him.
"Very curious," was the only comment he made.
"But, look here, Mr. Merritt; what more do you want to convince you ofthe Frenchman's guilt?"
"Proofs; that's all," he replied cheerfully.
"But what further proof do you need? Here you have a man who isundoubtedly insane, who is furthermore an inmate of the Rosemere, andwho, on Tuesday evening, went out with the avowed intention of killinghis supposed rival; and, to cap the climax, the victim's hat is found inhis possession. And yet, you have doubts!"
The detective only smiled quietly.
"By the way," he said, "I must go to the hospital, and get that hatbefore it disappears again."
I started.
"It didn't occur to me before, but when we put him into the ambulance,he was bareheaded," I confessed.
Merritt uttered an exclamation of impatience.
"We'll go to your place, then; it must be there. When you saw him in thestreet, he had on a hat similar to the one we are looking for, didn'the?"
"Yes."
"Then it's probably somewhere in your hall. That you shouldn't havenoticed its absence does not surprise me so much, but that my man shouldhave overlooked an article of such importance, does astonish me. It'shis business to look after just such details."
When we reached the house we had to fight our way through a crowd ofreporters, but in the hall, sure enough, we found the hat. Merrittpositively pounced on it, and, taking it into my office, examined itcarefully.
"What do you think of it?" I at last asked.
"I'm not yet prepared to say, Doctor; besides, you and I are now playingon different sides of the fence--of that $50, in other words, and till Ican produce my pretty criminal, mum's the word."
"When will that be?"
"Let me see," replied the detective; "to-day is Tuesday. What do you sayto this day week? If I haven't been able to prove my case before then, Iwill acknowledge myself in the wrong and hand you the $50."
"That suits me," I said.
I am ashamed to say that all this time I had forgotten about poorMadame. Having remembered her, I went to her at once, and found herviolently hysterical and attended by several well-meaning, if helpless,Irish women, who listened to her voluble French with awe, not unmixedwith distrust. I at last succeeded in calming her, but I was glad hermaster was spending several days out of town, for I could imaginenothing more distasteful to that correct gentleman than all this noiseand notoriety. I was afraid that if he heard that more reporters wereawaiting his return, he would not come back at all.
The House Opposite: A Mystery Page 11