MRS2 Madame Storey

by Hulbert Footner

  I got out of my chair and sat down again, staring at the woman like a zany. Grantland! Eddie's hero! The popular idol of the day!

  Mme. Storey was no less astonished than I. "Quick, Bella! The morning paper!"

  I hastened and got it for her. There was his name on the front page, of course, as it had been in every edition during the past two days. Mme. Storey read out the head-lines:

  GRANTLAND AT CHICAGO LAST NIGHT

  FLEW FROM NEW ORLEANS YESTERDAY

  Expected to land at Camp Tasker this A.M. Has circumnavigated the entire country east of the Mississippi in little more than three days. The bold young flier's endurance test a success in every particular. Great ovations tendered him at every landing.

  Meanwhile the wretched little old lady was weeping bitterly and wailing over and over: "I promised not to tell! I promised not to tell!"

  "Promised whom?" asked Mme. Storey.

  "Philippa."

  "Well, you needn't distress yourself so, Mrs. Batten. If you love this girl, bringing the man's name into the case isn't going to hurt her chances any."

  Mrs. Batten had forgotten all caution now. "But if you convict him," she sobbed, "it will kill Philippa just the same."

  "Aha!" murmured Mme. Storey to herself; "so that's the way the wind lies." She looked at the old woman oddly. "So Grantland did it?"

  Mrs. Batten flung up her arms. "I don't know!" she burst out, and at least that cry rang true. "I haven't eaten. I haven't slept since it happened. I'm nearly out of my mind with thinking about it!"

  Mme. Storey whispered privately to me to call up Camp Tasker. If I could succeed in getting a message to Lieutenant Grantland I was to ask him to come to her office at once on a matter of the greatest importance concerning Miss Philippa Dean.

  Through the open door I could hear her asking Mrs. Batten to forgive her for tormenting her.

  "But you know you came here determined not to tell me the truth," she said.

  In a few minutes I was able to report that I had got a message to Lieutenant Grantland, who had but just landed from his plane, and that he had promised to be in Mme. Storey's office within an hour.

  Mrs. Batten was quiet again—quiet and wary. Poor little soul, now that one understood better, one couldn't help but admire her gallantry in lying to save her friends.

  "Tell us about Lieutenant Grantland's visit," Mme. Storey said coaxingly.

  "There's nothing much to tell," was the cautious answer.

  "He came to see Miss Philippa?"

  "Yes."

  "He had been before?"

  "Oh, yes; a number of times."

  "Did Miss Philippa know he was coming that night?"

  "Yes. He had telephoned just before dinner. It was to say good-bye before starting on the big flight."

  "What time did he come?"

  "About nine."

  "Tell me about it in your own way."

  Mrs. Batten shook her head. "You must question me," she said warily. "I don't know what it is you want to know."

  Mme. Storey and I smiled, the old soul's equivocation was so transparent.

  "Did Lieutenant Grantland always come in his plane?" my employer asked.

  "No, that was the first time by plane."

  "Didn't the noise of his engine attract attention at the house?"

  "No; he shut it off and come down without a sound."

  "How could he see to land in the dark?"

  "He came just before it got too dark to see."

  "But couldn't you see him land from the house?"

  "No. He came down at the top of the field which is hidden from the house by the trees along the brook."

  "Then how could he get away in the dark?"

  "He had the whole length of the field to rise from."

  "But in starting his engine didn't it make a great noise?"

  "I don't know. We didn't notice it."

  "Did you go to meet him?"

  "I; no."

  "Miss Philippa went?"

  "Yes."

  "And brought him back to the house?"

  "Yes."

  "Right away?"

  Mrs. Batten bridled. "I don't see what that—"

  "Well, what time did they get to the house?"

  "About half past nine."

  "How did they get in?"

  "I turned off the burglar-alarm and let them in the garden door."

  "What happened then?"

  "Nothing!" said Mrs. Batten with an air which said: You're not going to get anything out of me!

  "Well, where did they go in the house?"

  "They came into my room. They always sat there."

  "You left them there?"

  "No, I stayed. Miss Philippa always had me there when he came. So that nobody could have any excuse to talk. That shows you the kind of girl she was!"

  "Very commendable. Go on."

  "There isn't anything to tell. There we sat as cosy and friendly as could be in my little room. I don't remember anything particular that was said. I wouldn't tell it if I did, for it was just their own matters. At ten o'clock I brought out a little supper I had made ready. The lieutenant was always hungry—like a boy. That's all."

  "What time did he leave?"

  "At midnight."

  "That is, when Mrs. Poor got home?"

  "Yes."

  "How did you get him out of the house?"

  Mrs. Batten bridled again. "There wasn't any getting out about it. He walked out of the same door that he came in. When I went to the front door to answer the bell I left the passage door open. When I switched on the light in the hall, that was to tell them the burglar-alarm was off. Then Miss Philippa let the lieutenant out of the door from the back hall into the garden."

  "What was the necessity for all this secrecy, Mrs. Batten? Miss Philippa was treated like a member of the family."

  Mrs. Batten was very uncomfortable. "Well, there was no necessity for it, so to speak," she said. "But it seems natural for young lovers to wish to meet in secret, to avoid talk and all that."

  "And a moment after the lieutenant had gone you and Mrs. Poor discovered the murder?"

  "Yes, but that isn't to say—"

  "Of course it isn't! Up to that moment you yourself had no suspicion that there had been a tragedy in the house?"

  "No, indeed! No, indeed!"

  "After Miss Philippa let him out she presumably returned through the passage. That would explain how she came to be so close at hand when Mrs. Poor cried out."

  "I suppose so. But there's no harm in that."

  "Certainly not. But why was there so much lying, Mrs. Batten? Why did she tell me she had been in her room all evening? Why did you tell me you were alone in your room?"

  "I couldn't give it away that she had been entertaining him."

  "Why not, if it was all regular and above board?"

  "Well—well, I said I wouldn't tell."

  My employer became thoughtful. Mrs. Batten, watching her, began to fidget again.

  Suddenly Mme. Storey said: "Mrs. Batten, did Lieutenant Grantland know that Ashcomb Poor had been pestering Miss Philippa?"

  "No!" answered Mrs. Batten breathlessly—but the terrified glance that accompanied it told its own tale.

  "Now, Mrs. Batten, you're fibbing again! What's the use when your face is a mirror to your soul?"

  The little body hung her head. "Yes, he knew," she murmured. "He had heard some gossip or something. He was furious when he came. Wanted to march right into the library and tax Mr. Poor with it—to 'knock his block off,' he said. We had a time quieting him down. The only thing that influenced him was when Miss Philippa said the scandal would injure her."

  "But you did quiet him down?"

  "Yes. We were all as happy and pleasant as possible together. Then we had our supper."

  Mme. Storey fell silent for a while. Her grave and thoughtful glance seemed to inspire the little old woman with a fresh terror. Mrs. Batten struggled to her feet.

  "I must go no
w," she said tremulously. "I've been away too long. They won't know what's become of me."

  "Sit down, Mrs. Batten," said Mme. Storey quietly.

  The other's voice began to scale up again. "I won't answer any more questions!" she cried. "Not another one! I can't! I'm in no fit state! I don't know what I'm saying! It's not fair to keep at me, and keep at me!"

  "Sit down, Mrs. Batten," repeated the grave voice.

  The old woman dropped into a chair, weeping bitterly.

  "Did Miss Philippa leave the room at any time during your party?"

  This was evidently the very question Mrs. Batten dreaded. "Oh, why do you plague me so?" she cried.

  "You know the truth has got to come out. Better tell me than a roomful of men."

  Mrs. Batten gave up. "Yes, she did," she wailed.

  "How long was she gone?"

  "I don't know. Just a little while. Not more than ten minutes."

  "And did Lieutenant Grantland leave the room at any time?"

  "Yes."

  "How long was he gone?"

  "He left right after her, and got back just before her."

  "Ah! What was the occasion of their leaving the room?"

  "The bell rang in the pantry. I went to see what it was. The indicator showed a call from the library. It wasn't my place to answer the bell, but I did so because I was afraid if I didn't Mr. Poor might come back. He was at his writing-table. I thought he had been drinking a little."

  "Why did you think so?"

  "His face was flushed. He had a funny look. He said: 'Will you please ask Miss Dean if she will be good enough to help me out for a little while. I have two or three important letters to get off, and I have such a cramp in my hand I can't write them myself.'"

  "Did you believe this, Mrs. Batten?"

  "N-no, madam. Not with that look—an ugly look to a woman."

  "What did you do?"

  "Well, of course I couldn't say anything to him. I just went away as if I was going to do what he wanted. I went back to my room. I was hoping maybe he'd forget. But they saw from my face that something had happened—"

  "That open countenance!" murmured Mme. Storey.

  "And they gave me no rest until I told them what he wanted. The lieutenant flared up again and said she should not go. Said he'd go instead and write his letters on his face. But she persuaded him not to. She knew how to manage him. She said she must go in order to avoid trouble. She said nothing could, happen to her as long as the lieutenant was there in the house to protect her. So she went."

  "Alone?"

  "Yes. But when she was gone he could not rest. In spite of all I could do to stop him, he went after her. I stayed there sitting in my room—helpless. Every minute I expected to hear a terrible quarrel—but all was quiet. I could scarcely stand it. I would have gone, too, to see; but my old legs were trembling so they would not carry me."

  "You heard no sound while they were gone?"

  "None whatever."

  "But there were three heavy doors between you and the library."

  "The library door stood open all evening."

  "But it may have been closed then."

  Mrs. Batten wrung her hands. "It can't be! It can't be," she cried. "That young pair—so proud, so beautiful, so loving—"

  "Well, murder is not always so detestable a crime," observed Mme. Storey. "Did they come back together?"

  The old woman shook her head. "He came back first."

  "How did he look?"

  "Nothing out of the way. No different from when he left."

  "You mean, his face was set and hard?"

  "Yes, but he always looked like that when Mr. Poor's name was mentioned."

  "What did he say?"

  "He said: 'Where's Philippa?' I just shook my head. He turned around to go look for her, but met her coming in the door. They spoke to each other."

  "What did they say?"

  "It was in whispers. I could not hear."

  Mme. Storey fixed the little woman hard with her gaze. "Mrs. Batten!" she said warningly.

  But this time the housekeeper was able to meet it. She spread out her hands in a gesture that was not without dignity. "I have told you everything, madam. You know as much as I do now."

  "And nothing happened after that?"

  "No, madam. We sat down to our supper. Mr. Poor's name was not mentioned again."

  "Either one of them could have done it," remarked Mme. Storey thoughtfully.

  Mrs. Batten wiped away her fast-falling tears.

  VII

  Lieutenant Grantland was prompt to his engagement.

  Why is it that aviators, or nearly all aviators, are such superb young men? I suppose the answer is obvious enough; it is the young men with the shining eyes and the springy bodies that are naturally attracted to the air. However that may be, the mere sight of an aviator is enough to take a girl's breath away.

  As for George Grantland, he was simply the handsomest young man I ever saw. When he came in how I longed to be comely just for one second, in order to win an interested glance from him. Alas! His eyes merely skated over me. In his close-fitting uniform and marvellously turned leggings he was as graceful as Mercury. At present, whether from fatigue or anxiety—or both—his cheeks were drawn and grey. But his blue eyes were resolute, and he kept his chin up.

  You can imagine Eddie's feelings. He had brought the lieutenant upstairs all agog, and now stood just within the door, staring at his idol, and fairly panting with excitement. I was obliged to push the boy out into the hall by main strength and shut the door after him.

  I took Lieutenant Grantland directly into Mme. Storey's room. Her glance brightened at the sight of him just as any woman's would. She had mercy on me and nodded to me to remain in the room. Mrs. Batten, I should state, was still with us. Mme. Storey had put her in the back room to rest and compose herself.

  "Thank you for coming so promptly," Mme. Storey said, extending her hand.

  The young man blushed painfully. "I cannot shake hands," he said bluntly.

  Mme. Storey's eyebrows went up. "Why?" she asked, smiling.

  "You will not want to shake hands when you know."

  Mme. Storey shrugged and smiled at him with an expression I could not fathom—a quizzical expression. "Well, sit down," she said.

  He would not unbend. "Thank you, I cannot stay."

  "Well, anyway, allow me to congratulate you on your flight."

  He bowed.

  Mme. Storey went on: "My secretary tells me she got a message to you just as you were landing. I assume that you heard nothing during your flight of what was happening here."

  "Not a word!" he said. "But Camp Tasker was buzzing with it. I heard everything there."

  "Then we need not go into lengthy explanations," said Mme. Storey. "I need only say that Assistant District Attorney Barron has done me the honour to consult me in regard to this matter. That is where I come in. As for my secretary, she is acquainted with all the details of the case, so you need have no hesitancy in speaking before her. I would like to ask you a few questions, if you please."

  "There is no need," he said, standing very stiffly. "It was I who killed Ashcomb Poor."

  My heart went down sickeningly—not that I blamed him at all; but at the thought of that splendid young fellow being subjected to the rigour of the law; his career spoiled; that proud head brought low in a prison cell! I don't know what Mme. Storey felt upon hearing his avowal. Her glance betrayed nothing.

  "I never dreamed that they would dare arrest her," the young man went on with a break in his voice, "or I should not have gone away. I can never forgive myself that."

  "Well, sit down," said Mme. Storey for the second time.

  He shook his head. "I am on my way to police headquarters to give myself up."

  "Oh, but not so fast!" objected my employer. "There are many things to be considered. Meet Mr. Barron here. You will be at a better advantage."

  "I have no desire to make terms," he said indi
fferently.

  "Then let me make them for you. Or lay it to a woman's vanity, if you like. I found you first. Let me hand you over to the district attorney's office."

  "Just as you like," he said.

  Turning to me Mme. Storey said: "Please call up the district attorney's office and tell Mr. Barron that important new evidence has turned up in the Ashcomb Poor case. Ask him if he will bring Miss Dean up here."

  At the words "bring Miss Dean" a spasm of pain passed over the young man's face.

  "Do you think he will?" I murmured, thinking of Mr. Barron's former objections.

  "What he did once he can do again," Mme. Storey said lightly. "Curiosity is a strong, impelling force." She added in a lower tone: "Mrs. Poor is at the Madagascar Hotel. Ask her to come, too. Then we'll have all the material witnesses."

  Then to the aviator: "If you came here the moment you landed you haven't had anything to eat."

  "I don't require anything, thanks," he muttered.

  "Nonsense! You have a severe ordeal before you. You must prepare for it in any way that you can."

  To make a long story short I ordered in a meal. It arrived after I had finished my telephoning, and both Mme. Storey and I saw to it that the young man did justice to the repast. Notwithstanding his situation he developed an excellent appetite. It struck me at the time that we were treating him more like a returned prodigal than a self-confessed murderer; but good looks such as his are like a magic talisman in the possessor's favour. What would any woman have cared what he had done? How delightful it was to see a better colour return to his cheeks. And how grateful he was for cigarettes!

  Mr. Barron brought two plain-clothes men and Miss Dean in his own automobile. We received them in the outer office, and Mme. Storey insisted on allowing the girl to enter her room alone. When the door was opened and Philippa saw who was waiting within, a dreadful low cry broke from her that wrung our very hearts. Mme. Storey closed the door behind her, and no one ever knew what took place between those two unhappy young persons.

  While we waited Mr. Barron besieged Mme. Storey with questions which she smilingly refused to answer, merely saying:

  "Wait and see!"

  They were not together long. Lieutenant Grantland opened the door. His face was stony. In a chair behind him the girl was weeping bitterly. It looked as if they had quarrelled.