Perhaps Melicent's expectations were vaguely disappointed because the house in Belgium was not a chateau with towers and pointed peaks, with stone walls and dungeons, with a bloodcurdling and yet faintly absurd history. The house on the Domrey River was not far from the French border; it was situated deep in the valley of the river and had been built by a mill-owner who had prospered in the years after Waterloo and it had been expanded by a later owner in the days of Napoleon second. More recent additions had been made by an English proprietor and they were square and ugly. Around it was a conventional garden, but the lateness of the season had destroyed its beauty.
There were no other houses near it, although at a distance of a mile or more, along the slow meandering river, there was a small town which, judging from the pall of smoke that hung above it, was the site of numerous factories.
It was nearly dark when they reached the house and they were welcomed at the door by Alice Cornwall. She was plump and she had bobbed gray hair. Her nose was long and sharp like Hannah Cornwall's nose, but her eyes were bland and almost dull. With her at the door to greet them was a short flabby young man in his middle twenties who spoke with a broad Oxford accent. Alice Cornwall seemed to be delighted to see her sister Hannah and in spite of her years--Melicent thought she must be nearly sixty-five--
she gushed.
"Why, my dear Hannah! This is too good to be true. I am simply delighted to see you. We have lived over here so long that we are veritable natives. I am beginning to think of myself as a Belgian woman. You don't look a day older than when I saw you last. And this is your secretary, Miss Watling--oh, yes-Miss Waring. Pierre will take care of her. I have put her in a room next to yours, just as you asked me to do."
She addressed Donald next. "My dear boy! It's so good of you to bring your aunt, and I am sure you will find relief from the--sorrow you must feel for the loss of your father. Dear Daniel. He was such a gentleman and so devoted to his studies. Even when he was a little boy he used to have a passion for doing things for people. His death is a loss to the whole world. To the tropics, anyway. And Everitt gone, too, and right in your house! Think of it! Only four of us left. Every year I run up to Paris for my clothes and a little whirl and try to forget that I am sixty-three. Isn't it horrid the way time flies? You know Lester, don't you? You remember you used to play together when you were children. Lester, this is Donald."
The young man with the Oxford accent held out his hand to Donald Cornwall.
"Glad to know you."
Melicent caught a glint of amusement in Donald's eyes as he regarded his cousin.
Pierre, who was evidently major domo, spoke quietly to her. "If madamoiselle will follow me to her room--?"
As Melicent walked away with him she heard the continual sound of Alice Cornwall's voice. "Yes, it's been a long time. Nine years. Ever since my poor husband died. But I've been a contented widow, a very contented widow."
The rooms which had been set aside for Melicent and Miss Hannah Cornwall were garishly papered and furnished with too many chairs, too many little tables, too many gilt-edged mirrors, and too many glass pendants. They were a rococo effort to recapture a period of French decoration long since departed. And the small windows opening from them overlooked the turgid water of the Domrey.
In the room next to hers, where supposedly Miss Cornwall would sleep, a maid was unpacking luggage. Melicent opened her brand new suitcase and commenced to hang up her equally new clothes. It was almost dark and she turned on the electric lights, only to find that they were small and dim, casting huge shadows on the floor and walls from every piece of furniture. She had hoped that Alice Cornwall might prove to be a member of the family in whom she could have immediate confidence, but she feared that the woman was silly and empty-headed. She was sure that nothing underlay her babble of thoughtless conversation. She had been told that in this household it was the custom to dress for dinner and before she changed she looked out of her window. She saw Granger and the Rolls Royce disappear in the direction of the town and some time later she heard him return and park the car in the garage. A wind began to blow outside, whistling through the ugly structure of the old house and ruffling the river. Presently she dressed and went downstairs. Donald Cornwall was already there in a tuxedo, with a glass in his hand.
"An aperitif," he said. "You better have one. This house is damp and cold. How do you like my Aunt Alice?"
"She was very pleasant."
"That's a brave effort." He poured a drink and handed it to her. She swallowed some of it. It was swe.et and warming. A moment later Lester joined them. "Oh! Hello, Miss Waring."
"Good-evening, Mr. Wilbur." She had had a momentary struggle to remember the family name of Hannah's sister.
The young man with the English accent nodded icily at his American cousin.
"Charming old place mother has here, don't you think?"
"It's very nice."
"Exactly. Precisely. Extraordinarly nice."
There was a long pause and he said nothing else. Donald Cornwall spoke ironically. "Very nice, indeed."
"Eh?" Lester regarded his cousin. "Oh, yes--nice--what?"
Donald nodded and the sparkle in his eye increased. "Yes. About the nicest little place in the world."
Lester thought about that for a while. Finally he started as if he had been slightly frightened, walked to the tray where the decanters were, poured a drink for himself, looked at his cousin, drank the entire contents of the glass at once, and said, "Nice, nice, nice, nice, nice," very rapidly.
There was another long pause. Donald appeared to consider his cousin's remark and then nodded his head sagaciously.
"The very word. Nice."
Lester was pouring another drink for himself. He looked up.
Mrs. Wilbur came into the room. She said: "Well, children, dinner will be ready almost immediately. Have you had your second drink, Lester?" She explained that to the others. "Lester is never really comfortable unless he has had his second drink."
"I can understand that," Donald Cornwall said solemnly.
Melicent looked out of the window and bit her lip. She thought that she had never seen anyone quite as stupid as Donald's cousin, Lester.
"He's down at Oxford," Mrs. Wilbur continued.
Lester cleared his throat. He did it with an expression of mild satisfaction on his face, as if the sound might be interpreted as conversation. Hannah Cornwall was last to join them and they went into the dining room.
Throughout the meal Mrs. Wilbur carried the burden of conversation. What she said was an expansion of what she had already said upon their arrival. She repeated long and meaningless anecdotes about both the two deceased members of the family in a glib manner, which suggested that she had no real feeling about their death. For the most part, Melicent looked steadily at the plates, which were changed frequently, and she remained silent. It developed during the meal that Mrs. Wilbur's two other children were away-a boy at Eton and a girl in school in Switzerland.
"I came to the continent for my children. I realized the commonness of American schools and I decided I would sacrifice myself for my own. There was nothing to do but come over here and live while they had their schooling, and here I've been ever since. Of course, I really hate the Belgians and the French. Anyone with any sense would hate them. They're stupid and stubborn, and unless you watch them like a hawk they take advantage." There was much more in the same vein and Melicent wondered what the servants thought if they could understand Mrs. Wilbur's words.
When the meal was ended, Lester made his only contribution to the family gathering. "Now we'll all go down in the cellar for billiards--what--what?"
Miss Cornwall made her excuses by saying that she would like to go to bed at once. That meant necessarily that Melicent would also retire. Donald Cornwall, however, took up the challenge.
"I'll shoot a game with you, Lester, old kid."
"Old kid?" Lester repeated in a puzzled manner.
"Old kid," D
onald affirmed.
"Old kid," Lester repeated. He frowned for an interval and then brightened. He turned a cheery face toward his cousin and said, "What!"
Melicent was already accustomed to the exchange of rooms which she secretly made every night with Miss Cornwall and after she had retired in the dark she realized that she was quite tired. For a little while she thought about the strange new household into which she had come. The surroundings were as somber as those of Blackcroft and the people were plainly apprehensive. Had they noticed the possible arrangement of the family names and that D and E already were dead and that, therefore, A might be the member of the family most immediately in danger?
Ten days passed. They were full and uneventful. Melicent wandered the ground around the old house, went down to the river, listened to the meaningless monosyllabic words of Lester and talked occasionally both with Donald Cornwall and Granger. Miss Cornwall gave her a few letters to write so that it would not seem she had brought a secretary to Europe with her for nothing.
Finally Mrs. Wilbur invited her to go with her to attend to the marketing. Melicent accepted gratefully. Any interruption of the routine was acceptable. Mrs. Wilbur's chauffeur drove them into town and they spent two hours going from one market to another. Although Mrs. Wilbur's French was bad, she was able to make herself understood and her reaction to everything Belgian was typical of her.
"It's a foolish country, a perfectly idiotic country. For instance, take that shop over there. Vins, Huilles, Savons. Imagine that. Wines, oils, soaps. That's the way these people are around here. Open up a store and sell wine, oil, and soap for no reason at all. It isn't logical and it doesn't make sense."
Melicent demurred. "Look at our drug stores. Look at what we sell in them."
"That's different. The drug stores sell everything on earth, but these silly people sell just three things--wine, oil, and soap. Makes me sick."
When they had finished their marketing, Mrs. Wilbur suggested that they have some refreshment. "I know a perfectly darling café, but we will have to sit inside. I am dying for a glass of beer. Somehow or other I started to drink beer when I came over here. I know it's vulgar and that I've put on a great deal of weight, but I do like it. Of course, you have to be careful which café you go in because it's a manufacturing town and some of the places are very uncouth."
They went into the Café de la Rose and sat down. Along one end was a bar and behind it a glittering array of bottles. The room contained more than a dozen tables and several of them were occupied by Belgian men and women who, apparently, were having a drink before luncheon. Mrs. Wilbur ordered two glasses of beer. "It will do you good, my dear. I know it's fashionable in America now to be slender, but it's not healthy."
Melicent nodded. "I don't like it much, but I will, if you insist. It was terribly nice of you to take me shopping to-day."
"Quite all right. Love to do it. Having you in my house is a great pleasure.
Reminds me of my own girlhood. I suppose, too, it must be dreadfully boring to be my sister's secretary. She's such an old spinster. Always silent, always gloomy. I suppose by comparison I'm a chatterbox."
There was nothing for Melicent to say. The waiter set the glasses on the table and left them.
"Well, I am a chatterbox," Mrs. Wilbur continued. "But I'm not so empty-headed as you might think. And I don't miss much of what goes on around me. Now you are a nice sensible girl and a mighty pretty girl. I have taken quite a liking to you and I wonder if you would do me a favor."
"I'd be glad to do anything I can," Melicent replied.
"It isn't much. I gathered from my sister that you have been with the family for about a month. You were there when my brother Everitt died. I suppose you know the circumstances that surround our family, the will and everything, and you can't fail to notice the cautious way Hannah lives." Her plump face became a little more serious. "I suppose all of us have been a little bit nervous about ourselves. I know I have. I want my children to get Silas' fortune. That's only natural, isn't it? Now, I babble all the time, but I think just the same and I may say that I was quite surprised when Hannah wrote me that she was coming over here. Donald's father died in South America and he left there.
Everitt died over in Connecticut and Hannah left there. I thought that you probably were pretty wide awake and I wanted to ask you if you thought they left for any other reason than just that they decided to travel."
Melicent was dumfounded. She had thought of Mrs. Wilbur as a person who was garrulous and without a moment of real insight. Now, however, the face of the woman who sat across the table was concentrated. In her eyes was a great shrewdness and it became apparent that behind the careless manner was a considerable degree of mentality.
It suddenly occurred to Melicent that Alice Cornwall Wilbur was a woman in whom she might, after all, have considerable confidence.
She did not answer at once. She realized that when Daniel Cornwall had died and when Everitt Cornwall had died, Mrs. Wilbur had been thousands of miles away. The thought followed through her mind that if she could be sure of anything in the world she could be sure that a woman of Mrs. Wilbur's type was profoundly sane and would never for an instant consider interfering in any way with the human rights of her relatives. The burden of Melicent's private knowledge was great. She looked once more at the plump, earnest woman across the table and then she spoke.
"I don't know what Miss Cornwall would say if she knew that I was talking to you about the Cornwall family. I am sure she would be very angry and there is not much I can tell you. You've already hinted that Miss Cornwall is afraid of her life every moment. I gathered from her behavior that the news of Daniel Cornwall's death was a tremendous shock. She had heard it some time before I came to Blackcroft, but the death of her other brother in her own house seemed to be almost more than she could bear. It wasn't so much grief as fright. Anyone could see that. And his death--"
Mrs. Wilbur was leaning forward and looking straight into her eyes. "Yes," she said softly.
"His death was very strange. Electric lights do kill people, but"--Melicent drew a long breath--"I am going to tell you something which I have not told Miss Cornwall.
In the room next to the bathroom where her brother--your brother--died, there was a hole in the wall opposite the tub. After that hole was used-after your brother was killed-the fire was started, I believe, to hide what happened there."
Mrs. Wilbur's eyes did not waver.
"You said my brother was killed--he was murdered, you mean. That is no surprise to me. It was plain from the attitude taken by my sister and my nephew--though they have not acquainted me with the detail you have told me. Proceed, please."
"Did they tell you of the message your brother received just before his death?"
"What message?"
"The five word message similar to the message received by your brother Daniel just before he died."
"I heard of the strange message that came to Daniel. Donald wrote me at the time." Suddenly she had gone very pale. "But I did not know my brother Everitt had received a similar message, too. Tell me, please, Miss Waring. Proceed."
"The message which Donald says his father received was five meaningless words-
-'Doubtless even a tulip hopes,'' repeated Melicent, whispering. "About two hours before your brother Everitt died, or was killed, he received five other meaningless words with the same initial letters: 'Don't ever alter these horoscopes.'"
"What? Miss Waring, you know of that? You're sure of that?"
"I know it. Why? Why?" whispered Melicent, aghast at the effect upon Alice Cornwall Wilbur. "Why--have you received such a message, too?"
"I? Of course not. Of course not! It is close in here and what you have told me has shaken me, naturally. I didn't expect to learn so much from you, my dear."
The two glasses of beer stood on the table untouched. Mrs. Wilbur paid for them and rose. "But you were infinitely right to tell me." She had regained her composure. "We had bet
ter get back to the house."
She went out to the automobile and climbed in with an alacrity unusual in a person of her age. Her conversation on the return was as vacuous as it had always been.
That evening Melicent was in her room dressing, in--the light garments of Miss Cornwall. The door to Miss Cornwall's bedroom opened and the old lady came in.
Usually the exchange of rooms was made almost without discussion. Now, however, Miss Cornwall spoke.
"Are you content here?"
"It's very nice."
"Yes, it's nice for me. I am glad to see my sister again, although we may be leaving shortly."
Melicent looked up quickly. It seemed to her that Miss Cornwall's angular face was contracted; that she felt some internal agitation. She gave Melicent no opportunity to reply to her statement that they might depart soon.
"I want to change our habit a little just for to-night. I have drawn the blinds in my room, but I wish you would go in there and stay in the room with the lights on and write letters for awhile. You know--move around a bit. Take time going to bed. You see"--and the words that followed did not ring quite true--"we are getting so matter-of-fact about this system that it doesn't seem natural. I want you to behave in my room just as I would behave if I were there myself. That's logical, isn't it?"
Melicent felt herself gripped by a sense of foreboding, but she answered calmly,
"Perfectly logical."
She did as Miss Cornwall had suggested. There was note paper on the desk in the bedroom and a fire burned in the grate. For an hour she sat at the desk and wrote a long letter to Helen, her former roommate in New York City. She knew that the letter would not, could not, be mailed, because it was part of her agreement with Miss Cornwall that she would communicate with no one during her year's service. However, into the letter she put all the interesting things she had seen during her stay in Europe and she sealed the letter precisely as if it were going to be mailed. From time to time she walked around the room so that anyone listening could hear her footsteps and she noticed that the lights threw her shadow on the curtains--a shadow which was identical to the one Miss Cornwall would have cast.
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