Christie

by Veronica Sattler

  With this, he turned around and allowed Garrett to ascent the stairs unobserved and still armed.

  Once in the darkened hallway upstairs, Garrett withdrew the loaded pistol and approached the door to Lucille's front sitting room with care. He decided to knock.

  "Enter," came the unmistakably male voice from within. Pistol ready, Garrett complied, and when the door was ajar, found himself face to face with the coldly dispassionate countenance of Philip Stanhope whose equally ready pistol was focused directly on him.

  Philip's face distorted with silent rage. Finally, he spoke, "It seems a yellow nigra is no more trustworthy than the common black variety. Well, no matter. You will learn shortly, Garrett, that this merely complicates matters.. I suggest you shut the door, though. What we have to discuss is private."

  Garrett stepped forward into the room, his pistol hand remaining steady as he pushed the door closed with a backward swing of one foot.

  "I see you found one of my little trophies to use," said Philip. "Stupid of me to have left them available to you. Still, as I said before, the fact that you have a gun is of little consequence, and I don't mean because I have one as well and we find ourselves in what appears to be this charming little stand-off. You must realize I still hold the complete advantage, Randall."

  They both knew what he meant, and Garrett's eyes narrowed dangerously as he prepared to speak. When his words finally came, they were deceptively quiet on his tongue, and his tone suggested language encased in ice.

  "Your 'advantage' resides in the persons of my wife, my son, and a very dear friend. For whatever ill you bear me, I cannot see why you should mean them harm. I am here. So be it. Now I demand to see them safely released."

  Philip's thin smile barely reached his mouth.

  "Demand? My dear Garrett, you are hardly in a position to demand anything. But I am basically a generous man, and have been known to be understanding and reasonable as well. Fortunately, for your sake, you have found me in an understanding mood. I choose to overlook your arrogance for now, and going one step further, I can even assure you that the three persons you mentioned are well and safe at the moment."

  Philip watched carefully as the slightest relaxation in Garrett's jaw muscles indicated this information was all important to his adversary. Then he continued.

  "Now that you have that assurance, I thought perhaps you would like to hear something of my reasons for my current—I admit it—uncivilized behavior."

  "I know all I need to know, Stanhope. You murdered my parents twenty years ago and now, for some reason, you need to reach me as well."

  "Correct!" snapped Philip. "But I disagree that that is all you need to know. It is I who shall determine that need! And I say you will listen to my explanation of how and why I brought you here tonight. Before l have the need—to speak of it, to tell in full the story of those events of twenty years ago which nearly destroyed me, but which, through my own wits and prowess, I was able to overcome and repay, though the final repayment, owing to your wife's unfortunate and hapless interfering, will not be completed until tonight. For twenty years I have lived quietly with the details of my greatest triumph, unable to tell anyone of it. Now, at last, I have a worthy audience, and by my soul, I will tell of it!"

  "First, I want to see my wife—"

  "First, you will hear my tale! Then, I assure you, you will be shown the proof of the safety of my—er— three guests. And I warn you, Randall, should you make one move to use that pistol or in any other way threaten me, that guarantee of safety will no longer apply to them and you will seal their death warrants. Even if we foolishly annihilate each other here and now with these pistols we so-ridiculously point at each other, three others will die with us. Do I make myself clear? Of course, I do. Now, if you insist on holding onto that ineffectual weapon, why I suppose I can humor you that far. But the hand can grow heavy, you know, and my story is a lengthy one, and I do want you to have all the details of it, every—"

  "Get on with it!" charged Garrett through clenched teeth.

  Philip's eyes glittered strangely, and suddenly Garrett knew that no matter how reasonable this man wished to appear, no matter how urgently he sought to offer a plausible story of explanation, there was something at work here which would never yield to the rational. Philip's eyes had, in that one brief flicker, revealed a naked image of the man, and that disclosure caused Garrett something no amount of weaponry and physical threats could evoke. A cold prickle of fear crept slowly up his spine as he realized Philip Stanhope was unmistakably and beyond question, completely and dangerously mad.

  "Very well, then," said Philip. He uncrossed his left leg from where it had rested over the other and rearranged himself in the comfortably upholstered

  armchair in which he sat, carefully switching the pistol he had been holding to his right hand as he did so. Seeing Garrett watch this last action with interest, he laughed mirthlessly. "Do not take me for a fool, Randall. I have, for years, been equally accurate with either hand when wielding a gun. How else do you think I was able to get off two such quickly successive shots at you and my niece that day you rode double on her gray? Oh, yes, that was my work also, though I find it painfully embarrassing to admit to my poor and unsuccessful marksmanship on those occasions. It was my failing eyesight, you see. Not only did I ride out to your plantation to—er—take care of loose ends without the knowledge that I was in need of these spectacles, but once there, and having first foolishly mistaken your brother for you, I continued in my pursuit, mistakenly believing my once-excellent aim had declined through lack of practice. It was only after I had missed so many long shots while, in subsequent target practice, making all of my shorter ranged ones, that I realized it might be my aging eyes. Especially convincing in this regard was my discovery about your brother—not that he should escape the fate which awaits you. He, too—ah, but I get ahead of myself! More about that later."

  Garrett stood still in the same spot where he had remained since closing the door. His finger gripped the trigger of the prepared pistol, unmoving and steady. He fought against the urge to do something more overt to hasten the moment when Philip might reveal where Christie and the others were, for until he knew that, he could not even formulate a plan. Carefully, with enormous silent effort, he willed himself to continue listening passively.

  "Did you know," inquired Philip lightly, almost as if he were speaking of a subject as inconsequential as the weather, "that some twenty years ago I was involved in trade and related mercantile pursuits? Oh, nothing so large and grand-scale as the erstwhile dealings of my fortunate brother-in-law, Charles Trevellyan, to be sure, but things were coming along rather nicely for the fifth son of a near-bankrupt Louisiana planter. There were fortunes to be made in trade, and I was swimming in the thick of it. With my small share of my mother's inheritance I was able to wedge a foot in the cushioned door of commerce. Nothing greedy, mind you. When the sums of exchange among the great were so large, even a small but ambitious factoring agent could reap hefty profits and advance rapidly. But then one day, during a card game it was, I chanced to overhear the drunken boastings of a man involved in a particularly rich, forthcoming deal in tobacco. There were certain parties, it was said, who would be trying to acquire every last leaf of that brown-gold commodity to supply a very greedy buyer abroad—a buyer who could afford to pay almost any price. All the American group need do was assure him of his monopoly. I quickly realized I had become privy to some well-guarded information. If I acted on it quickly enough, I might be able to tie up all, or most, of the tobacco in this area of the Carolinas. The need to act hastily disrupted my usual tendency to be cautious. I engaged to supply the major American supplier, Charles Trevellyan, by way of his Mr. Rutledge, before assuring myself of the tobacco's availability. But I had gambled in other arenas. It seemed to be a worthwhile risk. And I almost made it, too. Through pressures ranging from old gambling debts owed me, to borrowing against my wife's jewelry and using it for well-placed bri
bes, I soon stood roughly a shipload short of my commitment. But it was a legal commitment, one requiring I come with the entire amount, or none at all, thereby forfeiting the higher rate of payment. And I needed the higher rate, for I was heavily indebted at that point.

  "Then I heard of one planter, the only one in the Charleston area who had not yet committed his recently harvest crop—or so I thought."

  Here Philip stopped and cast Garrett a venomous look.

  "My father," said Garrett quietly.

  "Yes." Philip smiled unctuously. "Your father, my Randall—prime fool! Now, don't misunderstand me, Randall, I would be the last to dismiss a matter of honor lightly. I had survived enough engagements on the New Orleans field of honor alone to attest to that. But your father was being a fanatic over it. He had signed no papers as yet. He had given the man nothing but a brief oral statement and perhaps a handshake. Yet there was nothing I could do to make the price attractive enough to convince him to swing to me—nothing!"

  Garrett's voice broke in quietly, but he thought to himself it sounded terribly brittle and dry in the silence of Philip's pause. "Jeremy Randall never operated on less than a promise and a handshake. They were his word and in them he placed the soul of his honor."

  "His honor!" spat Philip. "A very costly notion, indeed! For by refusing me, he virtually sealed the gates against my being able to fulfill my commitment, forcing me thereby to lose not only my honor, but my very sustenance as well."

  Philip's voice had risen slightly in the narration, but now he lowered it again to its former calm. "Fortunately, I had been clever enough to conceal my own identity from Rutledge and the others at that end, operating through a pair of ne'er-do-well, second-rate agents, name of Cutwell and Blakely. This left my name partially intact. But the humiliation of going deeply into debt was something I was not spared, and if it hadn't been for my wife's ability to talk her brother into lending us huge sums to see us through that horrible period—" Philip shuddered visibly. "And the honorable Charles Trevellyan was very discreet about it. Perhaps I owe him something for it beyond the repayment—and I did repay him, to the last cent; every coin, as I was able, over the years.

  "On the matter of your father, I encountered my only problem. Not only had he cost me my greatest chance to make my mark in the world, but, aside from Blakely and Cutwell, he now existed as the only person who knew my identity in that scandalous affair. He was the only one who could link my name to the gossip about a certain unknown factor's inability to meet his commitment. Oh, and the word was all over the southeast coast that such a one existed! Wagging tongues hungered for the proper identity. I slunk silently about, from tavern to drawing room, waiting for the ax to fall. Then one day it came to me, quite clearly. Eliminate Jeremy Randall, and I would eliminate the threat to my name. Cutwell and Blakely were only too eager to assist. Although their reputations were already in shreds, they owed me plenty; thousands in gambling debts. I had seen to that. It bound them to me, and then, with a little added incentive of a bag of gold— Trevellyan gold it was then—one for each, and the promise of a new start abroad somewhere, it became only too easy to get them to ride with me to your father's plantation."

  Again Philip paused, a look of satisfaction on his face as he seemed, mentally, to review his handiwork.

  "And so," said Garrett, "the three of you murdered fifteen innocent people and nearly ruined the lives of dozens more—those close to them—in order to save the day for your so-called honor, an 'honor' you would have seen spared in the first place, at the expense of my father's honor which you condemn."

  Philip remained silent at this, looking much as if he hadn't heard the twisted reasoning it lay bare before him, and Garrett continued.

  "So after you achieved the massacre at Riverlea, you quickly dispatched Cutwell and Blakely."

  "Yes, of course!" exclaimed Philip. "I had to! They knew too much and were given to drunken gambling sprees and loose tongues! I knew, for it was on just such a spree I located them in the first place. It took some doing to catch up with Blakely, though. He made it all the way to England and I was hard-pressed to invent some excuse to my wife and my new employers at the bank to take the time to follow him. . . . Did you know I'm as good with a knife as I am with a gun? A boy learns a great deal growing up in the bayous around New Orleans, you see."

  Eager to have news of how Christie, Lula, and Adam fared, Garrett sought to urge the tale further.

  "So once the Randall episode was behind you, and those two hirelings out of the way, you felt yourself safe until the day my wife inadvertently stumbled across the bracelet you had taken as a—symbol of your 'victory!" Garrett had promised himself he would remain calm, but he felt a small loss of control . as he underscored the final word with a bitter note of sarcasm.

  Philip's eyes flashed a brief warning as he noted the tone, but his demeanor remained easy, at least on the surface, as he continued.

  "Yes, another little weakness of mine, you might say, creeping in to spoil things, even after so many years had passed and I thought myself safe. Oh, I had word, from time to time, from well-paid informants, of a young man by the name of Randall who was bent on some greatly secretive mission and would pay well for certain information regarding the events of the autumn of 1770. But I paid it little heed. I had covered my tracks too well. But then my dear little niece had to go and marry you and bring you uncomfortably close to my life. Even that would have passed safely for me if it hadn't been for that bracelet. I really should have left it in the rubble of that smoking bedchamber! But I had to have something, don't you see? Bad enough, I could tell no one of my—victory, did you call it? Yes, I like that. A great victory—and what better token of a triumph on such a grand scale than such a magnificent and fabulous piece of jewelry?"

  Suddenly Philip's tone became hard. "It's more than a pity Christie had to stumble on it as she did. I had no quarrel with you! And hardly with Christie! Why, she's been a favorite with me all these years. Made of far better stuff than those sniveling bitches my wife bore me! But now you all know too much, and even dear little Christie will have to suffer for her meddling—ah, easy, Garrett, take care! I wouldn't want you to precipitate any unnecessary action on my part. As I said, I have always been inordinately fond of my niece. She has a certain inner beauty— well, at any rate, you may be relieved to know my plans for her do not include the taking of her life, or your son's—just yours and your brother's, that is, if you agree to cooperate!"

  "Go on," said Garrett in a low voice.

  "Your wife, your son, and the woman, Lula, are at this very moment in the room beyond this." He gestured with his free hand toward the door just behind his left shoulder. "They have been able to hear our every word, though, of course, there are restraints which have prevented them from calling out to you. In a few moments that door will open so that you may see they have not been harmed, but not before l have explained to you how I know that also, in a few moments, you will surrender that pistol to me and come willingly along to the spot arranged for your—accidental demise. Oh, nothing very ghastly, I promise you. A simple carriage accident in which the horses were frightened and the conveyance overturned, causing you a fatal blow to the head. As for your brother, a convenient hunting accident sometime in the near future—easy enough to arrange, now that I have my spectacles.

  "My niece will be allowed to live, as will the infant, although it will hardly be in the life style she has been accustomed to on a great plantation. This is where dear Lucille fits into the plan. You know the lovely madame, do you not? A pity you don't seem to have been aware of the enmity she bears you or your wife since you married. And did you know that Lucille owes me a great deal of money? It seems she required an enormous amount to help outa sister of hers who desired to establish a—similar place of business to this, in the city of New Orleans. Whorehouses don't usually require that much capital to set up, but expensive ones—and Lucille wanted only the best for her little sister—well, they take a bit o
f doing. And so, when madame came to my bank and was politely refused, I undertook to offer her the cash she required as a personal loan. One never knows when one might need favors. Well, tonight Lucille will return my favor, eagerly. Your wife will make a decidedly delectable gentleman's companion under Lucille's sister's roof, don't you think?"

  Philip paused to await Garrett's reaction, but if he expected anything volatile or even mildly discernible, he was to be disappointed. The face of his adversary moved not a muscle, and the eyes, already hard and dangerously cold, could accuse him no further than they already did. But he missed the slight tightening of the skin around the grimly set mouth, and the barest trace of twitching of the jaw muscles underneath the ears as Garrett silently waited to hear more.

  "She should bring handsome prices, in no time affording Lucille's sister the wherewithal to repay me. Of course, she could prove intractable at first, but there are certain drugs and potions which can aid the ladies in controlling her—not to mention the hostage value of her son, who will be ever near to remind her of her vulnerability. Lula, we'll throw

  into the bargain also. There's always a call for attractive blacks in those New Orleans houses."

  Finally Garrett forced himself to speak. Mustering all the control in his reserve, he said stonily, "You'll never succeed, Stanhope. Even if I and my brother die, do you think, for one minute, Charles Trevellyan ill rest until he finds his only child and grandchild? And too many people know she was last seen at your house. He will begin his search with you."