"Did you happen to mention the chauffeur's party to him?"
"Yes, madam. I mind saying that while he was having his time, we were going to have a time, too. Only there wouldn't be any girls at our party."
"And did you tell him about your patent switch?"
Bracker suddenly clapped his hand to his forehead. "He knew, he knew!" he said excitedly. "Why, we had worked on the car together!"
"And there is just about six gallons of gas to be accounted for?"
"Yes, madam—but surely you don't think—"
Mme. Storey rose. "I don't think anything, Bracker," she said. "I recommend the same course to you."
"Yes, madam. You can depend on me to keep my mouth shut. But—but—"
"That's all just now, thank you."
He made his way towards the door with a dazed air. "Mr. Rowcliffe—oh, my God!" I heard him mutter.
IX
It was an ill-balanced company that sat down to dinner at Cariswoode that night; five women and one man. I understood that guests had been expected, but the invitations had been quietly recalled. Though that poor girl's body was still lying somewhere upstairs, everybody dressed as a matter of course. During the afternoon Mme. Storey had telephoned to New York for her maid to bring up evening gowns for herself and for me. In her large way she took it for granted that I was to be received on the footing of a guest. It would have been all one to me either way.
Mme. Storey's dress, with a bit of pinning, did me very well. Her maid put up my stubborn red hair in a cunning and effective fashion. I knew it was effective, because it won a glance from even so experienced a connoisseur as Mr. Rowcliffe. I felt monstrously naked as I came downstairs, but I knew I had a pretty neck and arms, and that helped me to endure it.
While we were dressing in our respective rooms, Crider had made a report to Mme. Storey, but that I did not learn until later.
In the dining-room everybody was on parade. The table had been made small enough to bring us close together. It was a point of pride with all not to give the slightest sign of what was passing in every mind. Rather absurd to take such pains to be unnatural; but such was their code, and you could not but admire the gallantry with which they maintained it. Particularly Rowcliffe, who was quite astonishingly witty and engaging, though his eyes still had the dreadful look in their depths.
Only Miss McPeake lacked the requisite gameness to play up to him. Her face was pinched and haggard; she almost never spoke, and made the merest pretence of eating. The one who betrayed most in her face was the least interesting to watch. It was thrilling to speculate as to what was going on behind the smooth and smiling faces. With all the easy talk and laughter you felt that each one was encased in an armour of glass.
Mme. Storey looked positively glorious in a severe velvet gown of a curious shade of cold red, with no ornaments in her dark hair. For reasons of her own she chose to create a simple and stately effect tonight. The peerless Mrs. Cruger, in pale blue, looked like ah exhausted doll beside her. Miss de Guion was all a-shimmer in white and silver. Her complexion glowed, her eyes sparkled, she continually showed her white teeth; she looked ageless. An astonishing woman! It was she, principally, who, with Rowcliffe, kept the conversational shuttle-cock flying back and forth. Mme. Storey put herself forth very little. Her cue was to encourage the others. Rather a cruel pastime, but necessary.
Glasgow directed the serving of the meal from the sideboard, and there were two footmen to wait upon us like marvellous automata. Very handsome young men. The meal passed like a dream for me. I could never remember what we ate; one dish followed another, with a succession of wines which were taken as a matter of course. In that house it was not considered necessary to speak of where they came from.
When the meal at last drew to a close, Mrs. Cruger said: "I suppose you don't want to sit here alone, Jack."
"God forbid!" he answered.
"Then we'll have coffee in the lounge," said Mrs. Cruger. "It's cooler there."
The "lounge" was an immense room which made a great bow at the end of the west wing. The round part had a glass roof which was raised, and there was a whole semi-circle of open windows, so that we were almost outdoors. The open-air effect was heightened by quantities of growing plants and ferns. The furniture was of painted rattan with gay covers. We sank into insidiously comfortable chairs placed roughly in a circle. Presently a softly stepping footman placed coffee on stands convenient to the hand, and his mate followed him trundling a sort of wheeled tray bearing a dozen varieties of liqueurs. Glasgow hovered in the background. A delicious scented breath was wafted through the windows. The place was dimly lighted by shaded lamps along the back wall.
"Rather spooky, don't you think?" remarked Mme. Storey lightly.
"More light, Glasgow," murmured Mrs. Cruger.
He switched on a central dome which flooded the place with brilliancy. My heart beat a little faster, for I guessed what the light was required for.
When the servants had gone, Mme. Storey said quietly: "It is too bad to break the pleasant spell, but I think we ought to go into committee of the whole upon this matter."
One seemed to feel the shudder that all those well controlled people hid from view.
"Close the door, Jack," murmured Mrs. Cruger.
He came back from doing so, and dropped heavily into his chair. A wretched silence fell on us all.
"This is awful!" Rowcliffe cried at last. "Can't you tell us plainly where we stand?"
"I'm sorry," said Mme. Storey deprecatingly, "but you must tell me. I must question you and piece things together."
"Do you mean to say that the explanation is to be had from anybody here?" demanded Mrs. Cruger, sitting up straight.
Mme. Storey spread out her hands.
Again that silence. Rowcliffe was breathing audibly. He furtively dabbed his face with his handkerchief. Mrs. Cruger and Miss de Guion still wore masks of composure, but the strong light was cruel, and revealed that they were masks. Miss McPeake half turned in her chair, hiding her face from the others.
"Have you your note-book, Bella?" asked Mme. Storey.
I had it, and I produced it.
This act electrified them all. The code was broken, and they were outraged.
"I say!" cried Rowcliffe.
"Must we submit to be catechised here, and our answers written down?" Mrs. Cruger demanded toweringly.
"I'm sorry," said Mme. Storey. "I know just how you feel. But consider my position for a moment. I am acting the part of a bad citizen in consenting to keep this matter from the authorities for twenty-four hours. How else could I square myself with my duty but by keeping an exact record of everything that happened, to turn over to them later if necessary?"
Nobody could gainsay this. They relapsed into a sullen silence.
"Mr. Rowcliffe," began Mme. Storey, quite unimpressed by their hostile attitude, "did you leave the dance for a period last night?"
"Certainly not!" he answered indignantly.
Mme. Storey raised her eyebrows. "Why shouldn't you, if you felt like it?" she murmured.
"No reason," he said. "But I didn't, that's all."
"Mrs. Cruger," said Mme. Storey, "can you assure me that Mr. Rowcliffe was present throughout the dance?"
"Mercy!" drawled Mrs. Cruger. "How can I tell? I danced with him a couple of times."
"When, please?"
"Once when we first went in, and again, later."
"Much later?"
"No doubt."
"Miss de Guion," said Mme. Storey, "can you assure me that Mr. Rowcliffe was present throughout?"
The old lady had herself better in hand than her friend. "I can assure you of nothing," she replied calmly. "Everybody was coming and going. In a crowd you do not think of people unless you see them."
Mme. Storey returned to Mrs. Cruger. "Be frank with me," she said. "Is it not a fact that you and Miss de Guion remarked together on Mr. Rowcliffe's absence?"
This question was cunningly
calculated. Mrs. Cruger was a proud woman, and could not bear to stoop to compound a lie with another.
She underwent a sudden change of front. "Yes, we did," she said. "You angered me for the moment. I am sorry. Hereafter I will be perfectly frank with you. Let's get this over with as quickly as possible."
"Thank you," said Mme. Storey.
I saw Miss de Guion shrug almost imperceptibly. She seemed to say: If Bessie wants the truth to be told it's all one to me. The experienced old lady could express all that in the cock of an eyebrow.
"Of course the fact that we did not see him is not to say that he was not somewhere about," Mrs. Cruger pointed out.
"Of course not," agreed Mme. Storey.
Miss McPeake suddenly blurted out: "Why don't you ask me if he was present throughout? I can assure you that he was; because I was with him the whole time."
Rowcliffe cast a glance of terror in his fiancée's direction. Clearly he dreaded support from this ill-balanced quarter.
"Ah, thanks," said Mme. Storey to the girl. "Where were you?"
"The dance was tiresome," answered Vera. "We went outside and walked about."
"For two whole hours?"
"I didn't say for how long," cried the girl sharply. "I don't know how long it was. Most of the time we were sitting in the car."
"Mrs. Cruger's car?"
"Of course."
"On the back seat?"
"Naturally. Where else?"
"The body of the car was locked," murmured Mme. Storey.
The girl's jaw dropped. She gazed at Mme. Storey in a sickly consternation that gave everything away.
Rowcliffe tried to save the situation by saying quickly: "That was only a slip of the tongue. We were sitting on the front seat, of course."
"And you went for a drive?" suggested Mme. Storey.
He glanced at her sharply. "Well, yes, we did," he said. "Any harm in that?"
"None whatever. Quite a long drive?"
"Oh, I don't know. I can hardly say."
"Forty miles?" suggested Mme. Storey.
"What makes you set that figure?"
"Six gallons of gas to be accounted for," she said softly.
"It may have been."
"Why did you turn back the trip dial of the speedometer when you returned?"
Rowcliffe bit his lip. "That was just to put one across on Bracker," he muttered. "He's so cranky about anybody else running that car."
"Then you must know to a mile how far you went?"
"Forty-one miles," said Rowcliffe sullenly.
"Too bad you didn't fill up the tank," suggested Mme. Storey.
"Well, I didn't happen to notice a filling station, and I forgot," he said.
"You had other things on your mind," suggested Mme. Storey.
"Yes," he answered thoughtlessly.
"And that was why you went away by yourself to think?"
"Yes," he said—and gasped seeing how he had been trapped.
Vera sneered painfully.
"So Miss McPeake was not with you," murmured Mme. Storey.
He shrugged. Exasperation was rapidly rendering him quite reckless.
"Where was she?"
"Ask her."
"Where were you, Miss McPeake?"
"I refuse to answer!" she cried shrilly.
Mme. Storey let that go for the moment. "You drove back to Cariswoode," she said to Rowcliffe.
"Yes, I did!" he cried.
Mrs. Cruger and Miss de Guion stared, pure amazement breaking through their masks. Evidently, though all these people were playing some game, it was not by any means the same game.
"Why?" breathed Mme. Storey.
"I'll tell you!" he cried, now quite beside himself. "Louise had told me she would be back at half past ten. I had asked her to meet me outside the house for five minutes, and I would find some way of stealing home from the dance. At first she refused, but I told her I would do something desperate if she did not come, and at last she promised to meet me at the little fountain in the center of the rose garden at quarter to eleven. That is why I came back!"
Vera McPeake spread her arms on the arm of her chair, and dropping her head upon them, broke into a hard, dry sobbing. One could not feel very sorry for her, because there was at least as much of rage as of grief in the sound.
"Well?" prompted Mme. Storey.
"She didn't come," he said, relapsing into sullenness again. "I waited half an hour, and then I drove back. I was afraid to wait any longer, for fear the car would be wanted."
Vera McPeake suddenly raised her head. "That's true!" she cried. "I was watching him, and I saw. He waited for half an hour, then he drove back."
We all looked at her. It was only too apparent from the terror in her voice that what she asserted was not true.
"You were watching him?" said Mme. Storey mildly.
"Yes, I was!" she cried. "I don't care what you think. I was watching him all the time. I had a right to watch him. I followed him out of the Van Brocklin house. I saw him get in the car and drive away. I jumped into the next car. I don't know whose car it was. It wasn't locked. I followed him. When he turned into the main drive at Cariswoode I turned into the service drive, and left the car standing there. I watched him from the shrubbery."
Mme. Storey turned back to Rowcliffe. "So you did not do anything desperate," she said.
"Oh, I hadn't meant that," he said.
"As a matter of fact," said Mme. Storey with a deadly quietness, "when she did not come you climbed up to her window."
Rowcliffe jumped up with a cry, flinging his arms up. "If you know it already, why is it necessary to sit there and torture me?"
"I did not know it," said Mme. Storey. "You are telling me."
"All right!" he cried recklessly. "It's true! I was desperate. I stood under her window. I saw the rain pipe. I kicked off my pumps and scrambled up it without caring what I did. Make what you like of it!"
"He was only inside a few seconds—a few seconds!" Vera McPeake cried hysterically.
Rowcliffe turned on her furiously. "Ah, be quiet, you fool! You want it both ways, don't you?" He turned back to us. "I didn't know until today that Vera had been watching me. She held me up outside the office when I came out, and threatened to tell you I had killed Louise if I tried to break the engagement. Well, you know the worst now. Everybody knows. And, thank God, this fool has no further hold over me. I'm done with her!"
"Oh, Jack! Oh, Jack! Oh, Jack!" the girl wailed. It was horrible to be a looker-on at such a scene.
"You climbed up to her window?" Mme. Storey quietly persisted.
He seemed to be bewitched now by the necessity of telling everything. "Yes," he said. "I raised the screen and went over the sill. I groped my way across the room. I stumbled over her body. Oh, my God! I put my hand down and felt of her face, her hands. Stone cold! I was terrified out of my senses. I got out—"
"You were satisfied she was dead, merely by touching her?" asked Mme. Storey.
"No," he said, still anxious to be explicit. "I dared not turn on the light, but I struck a match. That gave me light enough to see that she was dead. I didn't know what had happened. I couldn't think. But it was very clear that she was gone—gone! I was half out of my senses. I just got out."
"Did you notice a smell in the room?" asked Mme. Storey.
"Yes, violets," he answered. "I associated it with her."
"Why did you close the window when you went out?"
"I can't tell you. Some notion of guarding her. I didn't know what I was doing."
"You struck a match. You had one long look at her while it burned?"
He covered his face with his hands. "Yes," he whispered.
Mme. Storey rose. "Then give me what you took from her outstretched hand," she said.
Rowcliffe's hands dropped from his face. He stared at Mme. Storey in amazed horror. His eyes seemed to protrude slightly.
"How—how could you know that!" he gasped.
"The handkerchi
ef," said Mme. Storey.
Rowcliffe, dazed, slipped a hand in his inner breast pocket, and drew it out again with a scrap of lace in his fingers. It was extraordinary to see even in his distraught condition how tenderly he fingered it. He took a couple of stiff, jerky steps forward, and let it drop into Mme. Storey's outstretched hand.
"How did you know?" he whispered again, awe-struck.
"There is no magic in it," said Mme. Storey simply. "I could not account for its disappearance in any other way."
"Well, you have it," he said apathetically. "You won't believe me, I suppose, but I took it simply because it had been close to her. I couldn't think; I had such a pain in my breast I couldn't breathe. I snatched it up because it had been near her. I knew I couldn't even grieve for her openly. I wanted some scrap of hers that I could keep in secret. Now, I suppose you'll hang me, eh? Another triumph for the great Rosika Storey. But I swear I've told you everything I know. I loved her. I would gladly have died myself, sooner than have a hair of her head injured."
"I don't expect to hang you," said Mme. Storey quietly. "All I wanted was the handkerchief, which is necessary to my case."
X
Jack Rowcliffe dropped back in his chair. Having delivered himself of his passionate confession, he was apathetic to what immediately followed. But the three women sitting up stiffly, were staring at the handkerchief with astonishment and expressions of growing horror. Mme. Storey was holding it up by two corners, revealing it wholly. One would have said that they beheld a dreadful apparition.
"An exquisite specimen," murmured Mme. Storey. "I have rarely seen anything finer. Almost a museum piece."
No sound escaped from any of the others.
"I must tell you," Mme. Storey said, "that this handkerchief came through the mail addressed to Miss Mayfield in a disguised hand. It was handed to her just before she died. The inference is therefore inescapable that it had something to do with her death, but there is no proof of that. The chemists must pass upon it."
Still no sound from the spellbound women.
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