MRS2 Madame Storey

by Hulbert Footner

  Mme. Storey affected to look at him in astonishment, and he subsided.

  Mr. Starr's agitation greatly increased—but there was a difference now; he was not agitated on his own account. "Why...why, what do you mean? Why do you ask me such a question?"

  Mme. Storey's candour is notorious. She always tells the truth when she is able. "We have reason to believe," said she, "that Mrs. Starr was shot by a woman who had borne her a grudge ever since her marriage to you. In other words, a jealous woman. I am asking you if you know of any woman who had reason to be jealous."

  Mr. Starr's horrified glance seemed to be turned inward. Clearly he was pursuing some private train of reasoning that brought him to an impasse. "Impossible...impossible!" he whispered, and a fine sweat broke out on his forehead. Then in a louder voice, with an attempted laugh: "Of course there was no other woman!"

  Seeing that Mme. Storey did not appear convinced, he added with a cunning assumption of bitterness: "No woman ever cared for me. My money outshone my personal qualities."

  "No woman but one," said Mme. Storey softly.

  Norbert Starr's glance seemed to be fixed in space as if she had conjured up some dreadful ghost out of the past. "No!...No! No!" he whispered.

  There was a silence.

  Anders, thinking that Mme. Storey was at a loss, rushed to her assistance. "You're not telling the truth!" he cried, stabbing the air with a prosecutor's forefinger.

  This only angered Mr. Starr. "Keep a civil tongue in your head!" he retorted haughtily. "You've got nothing on me. You know damned well by this time that I didn't do it!"

  "We don't know that you didn't hire somebody to do it!" cried Anders.

  Mr. Starr laughed contemptuously. "You'll have a job to prove that, old man."

  "Gentlemen! Gentlemen!" admonished Mme. Storey with a bored air. She rose languidly. To Starr she said: "Thank you very much; that is all I wanted to ask you."

  Manifestly relieved, he left the room. As soon as the door closed after him, Anders cried, "He knows who killed Bessie Jewett Starr!"

  Mme. Storey shook her head. "No. He only knows somebody who had a motive for doing it."

  "Well, that doesn't advance us any."

  "On the contrary," said Mme. Storey with a subtle smile, "his refusal to tell me, tells me."

  "Who is it?" cried Anders.

  Mme. Storey regarded the end of her cigarette. Whether she would have answered him or not, I don't know. Before she had time to do so, the door from the corridor was softly opened. Around the door sidled the gaunt, awkward figure of Tessie Jewett with her dim remote gaze and half smile. A premonition of the dreadful truth gripped my breast. It stopped my breathing.

  "Excuse me," murmured Miss Jewett, without looking directly at any one of us, "it has just occurred to me you have been here since morning. You have missed your lunch. May I...?"

  "No, thank you," said Mme. Storey gravely, yet kindly, too. "Pascoe gave us an excellent lunch. We need nothing more."

  "Oh, excuse me for disturbing you," murmured Miss Jewett, immediately turning to creep out again.

  "Miss Jewett, why did you shoot your sister?" asked Mme. Storey quietly.

  The suddenness of it made me feel a little sick. It seemed like the very refinement of cruelty. But Mme. Storey knew with whom, with what she was dealing, and as it proved, she adopted precisely the right means.

  The woman at the door did not start at all. With her hand on the knob she merely turned her head, and a dreadful sly smile overspread her face that instantly made her madness manifest. "She was too fat," she said with a chuckle. "I was tired looking at her."

  Mr. Anders jumped up. His eyes seemed to bulge against his glasses. "You're mad!" he gasped.

  "Well, I ain't as crazy as Bessie was," retorted Miss Jewett. "She was plumb crazy!"

  "Come in," said Mme. Storey soothingly. "Tell us about it."

  Miss Jewett obeyed unhesitatingly. As soon as she left the door, Mr. Anders made a hasty detour to reach it from the other side. He peeped out, and beckoned to somebody to stand near.

  Meanwhile Miss Jewett seated herself on the edge of the same chair that Norbert Starr had occupied. The woman seemed to be completely metamorphosed. She sat up stiff and straight; her eyes sparkled behind her thick glasses and hard, bitter lines appeared around her mouth. All her movements were definite and purposeful; we saw before us the "spry" woman that the conductor had described. She had exactly the look of an honest village wife sitting down with her company manners for a good gossip with a neighbour. It was very dreadful to see.

  "I been thinking about it a long time back," she began. "I always kept a pistol by me for the purpose...But mostly I'd forget. May didn't want to do it. May's a Christian soul. I have to bear with her."

  This was incomprehensible to me, but Mme. Storey got it. "So there are two of you?" she murmured.

  "Yes, that's it," said Miss Jewett, grateful to be understood. "There's May and there's me. And folks don't know the difference. May's a fool. Her spirit is broke. She's one of these bearers and forbearers...But me! I'm fed up! fed up! I never say nothing, I let May talk, but I think a lot!..."

  A different delusion intervened here, and the sharp, firm voice faltered. "There's too much eaten and drunk around here," she muttered, "and not any honest work done. All sorts of goings-on. It's like Babylon. And a voice told me it was my job to clean it up..."

  Her voice trailed off into an indistinguishable mumble, and her eyes bolted. Mme. Storey sought to recall her with a question.

  "Why did you choose today?"

  She instantly picked up the thread as if she had never dropped it. "I always meant to do it of a Thursday. That's the day I take Momma into town to the doctor's. I knew I could steal back. I had it all planned out...But one Thursday was just like another...so many Thursdays! I couldn't fix on any particular Thursday. May was always interfering. May was scared..."

  "Why did you fix on today?"

  "Yesterday Bessie told me that Norbert was coming today. Eleven o'clock in the morning. So I knew this was the appointed day."

  "You told us that you didn't know Mr. Starr was coming today," put in Mr. Anders.

  "That was May talking," she instantly retorted, with her sly smile.

  "What has Norbert got to do with it?" asked Mme. Storey softly.

  "Norbert's the cause of all the trouble," she answered darkly. "He made bad blood between Bessie and me. He's false-hearted. I was the instrument appointed to chasten him. A voice commanded me, saying...And he had in his right hand seven stars and out of his mouth went a sharp two-edged sword..." She became quite incoherent again.

  "You took your mother to town," prompted Mme. Storey.

  "Yes. I had to start real early so's to get back in time for Norbert. We drove to our house on Fifty-Fourth Street, which is all locked up and nobody there. We stop there every Thursday to make sure it hasn't been entered. But today I took Momma in with me. I told the chauffeur I had to pack trunks and he needn't wait. I told him when I was ready we'd drive to the doctor's in a taxi, and he was to come back to the house for us at one-thirty. So I got rid of him."

  "And your mother?"

  "Oh, I locked Momma in a small room upstairs. She bit and scratched and cursed when I put her in, but she don't mean nothing by it. There wasn't anything there she could hurt herself with, and I laid down a matteress so's she could lie down and take a sleep when she got tired...Then I dressed myself in a black dress I had ready, and stuffed it all out with things I picked up to change my shape. Because everybody out here knows me. And I had Momma's widow's bonnet with the crêpe veil to hide my face. I had everything ready to my hand. A long time ago I planned it...When I was all dressed I got a taxi and drove out to the hotel in Upper Bellaire. It's only ten minutes walk from the Castle. I had time and to spare..."

  "How did you get into the castle?"

  The sly smile returned. "Oh, there's plenty of ways, if you know them. I had planned it often. They never could catch
me! I hid in the bushes and watched, and I saw Bessie come out of the rose garden and go into the woods. So I sneaked through the rose garden and got into the tower through her door, and went up to the round room. When I heard her close the garden door, I hid under the desk..."

  "How did you know she would see Mr. Starr in the round room?"

  "Because she could say anything she wanted in there, and nobody could hear...But I was there hidden under the desk so snug. I could hear everything. I squeezed against the back of the desk, and when she sat down I could have tickled her fat feet..."

  "She was not alone."

  "No. She brought another woman with her. They talked, and pretty soon I made out the other woman was Mary Lansdowne. It was like the Lord had delivered her into my hands. I was going to shoot her, too. I had six bullets in my pistol. But the voice commanded me to wait till Norbert came. I wanted him to see it..."

  She came to a stop, and sat staring before her, rubbing the silken arms of the chair with a curious circular motion of her palms. Mme. Storey made no attempt to prompt her.

  She resumed on a sharp staccato note with breathless pauses. "Bessie didn't want Norbert to see the girl...So she put her behind the panel before he came in...Norbert came in...His voice...his nice voice...Norbert says to me: 'Why don't you join in the fun?' And I says: 'Oh, I'm nobody when Bessie's around.' And he says: 'Well, I'm nobody, too. So we're a pair!' How I laughed!..."

  It was evident that the poor soul had jumped far back in her mind to quite another scene. She presently recalled herself with a jerk.

  "Norbert came into the round room. I could hear every word...He offered Bessie her own figure to let him marry Mary Lansdowne...Bessie began to scream at him...And then...And then..."

  The bony breast began to heave tumultuously; the big blue eyes were utterly distraught. Mme. Storey made haste to carry her over the dangerous spot.

  "Yes, we know what happened after that," she said quickly. "And you got out by the window at the foot of the service stairs. You were clever!"

  "Yes," she said, relapsing into her old dull self. "May was askeared Norbert hollered so. May was askeared of Mary Lansdowne, too. She couldn't get out by the garden door because Mary was behind the panelling. But she thought of the window at the foot of the little stairs..."

  "Then she made her way to the Greenwall station, and took a train to town," prompted Mme. Storey.

  "Yes, the eleven-fifty-one," said Miss Jewett dully. "Tessie knew what time the train left. She had planned it all out...Tessie's a terrible woman. She's got a scorching fire burning inside her. But it never shows...I'm afraid of what she'll do...And when the chauffeur called at the house at one-thirty Momma and I were all ready to come back with him."

  "Weren't you afraid your mother would tell?" asked Mme. Storey.

  "She ain't got the sense," was the apathetic reply. "Momma's like a baby. Soon as a thing's over she forgets it...We're all crazy...It seems kinda hard..."

  It was heartbreaking. Mme. Storey and I could not bear to look at each other. The wretched woman had sunk down in her chair, her mouth had fallen, her eyes were staring glassily. I suppose, to do him justice, that Mr. Anders was moved, too; but unfortunately he had not imagination enough to change his role. He must still be the public prosecutor.

  "Are you capable of realising the sense of what you have told us?" he harshly demanded.

  Mme. Storey sought to stop him with a little cry of warning, but it came too late. The sound of the harsh voice seemed to electrify the insane woman. She sprang to her feet; her great eyes blazed; her voice rose to a shriek.

  "Yes, I know what I did! I shot Bessie! I shot her dead! I always had it in mind to do it! And I'll shoot you, too, if you bark at me...I'm glad I shot her! She stole Norbert from me. And every day for fifteen years she threw him in my face! I wish she had nine lives like a cat so's I could kill her nine times over!..."

  It ended in mere insensate shrieking. Anders turned white as paper. Kelliger and a policeman ran in from the corridor.

  "Take her! Take her!" gasped Anders. "She did it."

  They seized the unfortunate woman by the elbows and led her struggling and shrieking from the room.

  Mme. Storey whispered to me quickly: "There must be mental sanitariums out here. Find Pascoe. Have him telephone for experienced nurses. Let him send a car for them."

  As I hurried along the corridor they were taking Miss Jewett into the round room. Every shriek of hers was echoed far off from the direction of the great hall. Ah! that doomed household! I ran into Pascoe, hurrying along the main corridor.

  When I returned, Mme. Storey was alone in the pink boudoir. She sank into one of the great chairs, and pressed her knuckles to her temples.

  "It was harrowing, wasn't it?" she murmured. "Ah! the poor, poor women! Happily they don't know their own situation; they still have their delusions."

  Norbert Starr rushed into the room with Mary Lansdowne following more decorously behind him. The man was well-nigh hysterical in his joy. Snatching up Mme. Storey's hands, he poured out his gratitude. She turned it off in her own humorous, mocking style. Her manner towards Mr. Starr was a shade drier than in the beginning; still she was polite.

  More polite than I could have been. In the light of the scene we had just witnessed, Norbert Starr appeared much less charming to me than he had. His "charm" had worked too much damage, it appeared. To give him his due, I don't believe there was a thought in his head at that moment save simple joy at being freed of a horrible accusation; nevertheless, the fact remained that by her insane act the unfortunate woman had ensured the happiness of the man who had wrecked her happiness. It gave a horrible irony to the situation.

  There is no need of repeating all he said. Mme. Storey has heard it many times before. The girl was more restrained. She said a pretty thing, I remember.

  "Whenever I have a happy day, my thoughts will fly to you!"

  She was a lovely thing with her luminous, quiet eyes, and I was very thankful she had not overheard Miss Jewett's wild and pitiful confession. I prayed that she might never learn the purport of it.

  Mr. Starr had a car waiting, and he besought Mme. Storey and I to accompany him back to the city. My mistress declined.

  "I wish to make sure that the unhappy woman is well treated," she said. "You cannot always depend on the temper of a prosecutor who finds himself cheated of a culprit."

  "That's good of you," said Mr. Starr, with perfectly genuine feeling. "I wish you'd act for me in the matter. Just as if Mrs. and Miss Jewett still had the closest claims on me, I mean. Whatever the expense may be..."

  "You are generous," said Mme. Storey. There was no mistaking the dryness of her tone now.

  But the two never noticed it. They went out with eyes only for each other.

  I didn't say anything, but Mme. Storey could read my thought in my face, of course. She said:

  "You are a little uncharitable, Bella."

  "I am just thinking the same as you are," I retorted.

  "Possibly," she said smiling. "Then I am uncharitable too...One must not blame a man—or a woman either—for an injury of that sort. It is just the fortune of love. In love the wounds are dealt out, regardless. When you receive one, the only thing to do is to bind it up yourself and hide it. There are no surgeons on that front...In this case it is not the man's fault that the sort of injury which is generally healed in a week festered for years. The barb was lodged in unwholesome flesh."

  "You are right, of course," I said. "But it goes against the grain to see him rewarded!"

  "Oh, destiny has no moral sense," said Mme. Storey.

  "What a day!" I exclaimed, realising all at once that I was dog-weary..."What was it that first put you on the right track?"

  "Mrs. Starr's scrap-book," said Mme. Storey, putting her hand on it. "All the notices of her theatrical appearances are here—and her various appearances in court later on. An actress always keeps one. When I turned to the accounts of her wedding among the o
rdinary clippings, my eye picked out these verses. They are clipped from Chatter, that infamous but highly amusing weekly. Read them."

  A LIGHT COMEDY

  (With apologies to R. B.)

  I

  An unknown youth scarce-bearded, he

  Was the least-regarded swain

  Among the many that bent a knee

  At the court of the sisters twain.

  II

  Marvellous sisters of beauty rare,

  And nothing to choose between;

  But one had a meek and downcast air,

  The other the glance of a queen.

  III

  To arrogance, sure, the homage was paid,

  Men being what they are;

  And the meek-browed sister served like a maid,

  Who attends, but may not share.

  IV

  The youth unnoticed and the woman unsought

  Drew together like magnet and steel;

  And in that court of vanity wrought

  The only thing that was real.

  V

  Then he, 'twas brought to the queenly one,

  At whom her lip had curled,

  Was in fact no other than Midas's son,

  And heir to half a world.

  VI

  Whereat the corners of her lips did rise—

  Poor fool! Need the rest be told?

  He gave up the woman who smiled in his eyes,

  For her who smiled at his gold.

  VII

  Well, anyhow, here the story stays,

  So far at least as I understand;

  And here Clyde Fitch, you writer of plays,

  Is a subject made to your hand!

  THE END

  {1}

  Table of Contents

  Madame Storey by Hulbert Footner

  PART ONE—THE ASHCOMB POOR CASE

  I

  II