CHAPTER XVI MAIDA’S DECISION
“Maida, it cannot be. I shall never let you marry Mr. Keefe when I knowhow you love Jeffrey.” Sara Wheeler spoke quietly, but her agonized faceand tear-filled eyes told of her deep distress. Though not demonstrative,she loved her daughter, her only child, with an affection that was almostidolatry, and she had been glad of the idea of Maida’s marriage toJeffrey, for she knew of his sterling worth, and she knew the depth andsincerity of their attachment.
“Don’t say you won’t let me, mother,” Maida spoke in a dull, sad tone—atone of calm despair. “It must be so. I’m not saying I love him—I’m notsaying much about it all—but I tell you solemnly—it must be. And you mustnot raise a single word of objection—if you do, you will only make myhard lot harder.”
“But, dear, you must explain. I am your mother—I’ve always had yourconfidence, and I ought to be told why you are doing this thing.”
“That’s just the trouble, mother. I can’t tell you. And because of theconfidence that has always been between us, you must trust me and believethat I am doing right—and doing the only possible thing. Oh, it is allhard enough, without having to argue about it. Why, my will power maygive out! My soul strength may break down! Mother! don’t—don’t combat me!Don’t tempt me aside from the only straight line of duty and of right!”
“Child, you are not doing right! You cannot have a duty of which I knownothing! Of which your father knows nothing! Maida, my little girl, whatis this thing that has warped your sense of right and wrong? Has CurtisKeefe won your heart away from Jeffrey——”
“No—oh, no! Never that! But it would be a wrong to Jeffrey for me tomarry him—it would be a wrong to—to all of us! By marrying Mr. Keefe Ican make everything right—and——” she suddenly assumed an air of cold,stern determination. “Mother, my mind is made up. You cannot change it,nor can you help me by trying. You only make it harder for me, and I begof you to stop. And then—you know, mother—I killed Mr. Appleby——”
“Hush, Maida, you never did! I know you didn’t!”
“But it was either I or father! You don’t believe he did, do you?”
“God help me! I don’t know what to believe! But I tried to say I didit—only I couldn’t carry it out—nor can you, dear.”
“Nor can father, then. Oh, mother, I did do that shooting! I did! I did!”
“Every assertion like that makes me more certain you didn’t,” and Mrs.Wheeler fondly caressed the head that lay on her breast. Maida was nothysterical, but so deeply troubled that she was nervously unstrung andnow gave way to torrents of tears, and then ceased crying and bravelyannounced her plans.
“Please, mother darling, don’t talk about that. Suppose I tell you thateven that matter will be all set right if I marry Curtis Keefe—and by noother means. Even Mr. Stone can’t find any other suspect than us threeWheelers. He doesn’t at all believe in the ‘bugler.’ Nobody does.”
“I do.”
“Only as a last chance to free father and me. Mother it’s an awfulsituation. Worse, far worse than you know anything about. Won’t you trustme to do what I know to be right—and when I tell you I must marry Mr.Keefe, won’t you believe me? And not only believe me but help me. Help mein every way you can—for God knows I need help.”
“What can I do, darling,” asked Sara Wheeler, awed by the look of utterhopelessness on Maida’s face.
“Stand by me, mother. Urge father not to oppose this marriage. Help me totell Jeffrey—you tell him, can’t you, mother? I can’t—oh, I can’t!”
Again Sara Wheeler broke out into protestations against this sacrifice ofher loved daughter, and again Maida had to reaffirm her decision, until,both worn out, they separated, Sara promising to do just as Maida wishedin all things.
And in fulfillment of this promise, Sara told young Allen.
As she expected, he was stunned by the news, but where she had supposedhe would show anger or rage, he showed only a deep sympathy for Maida.
“Poor little girl,” he said, the quick tears springing to his eyes; “whatdreadful thing can that man have held over her to force her to this? Andwhat is the best way for me to go about remedying the situation? Youknow, Mrs. Wheeler, Maida wouldn’t talk like that unless she had arrivedat a very desperate crisis——”
“If she killed Mr. Appleby——”
“She never did! No power on earth can make me believe that! Why, whenMaida’s own confession doesn’t convince me, what else could? No; there’ssome deep mystery behind that murder. I mean something far deeper andmore mysterious than any of us yet realize. I think Mr. Stone is on trackof the solution, but he cannot have made much progress—or, if he has, hehasn’t told of it yet. But, I’m not a detective—nor is any needed whenMr. Stone is on the case, but I am out to protect and clear my Maida—mydarling. Poor child, how she is suffering! Where is she?”
“Don’t go to her, Jeff. At least, not just now. She begged that youwouldn’t——”
“But I must—I’ve got to!”
“No; for her sake—Jeffrey dear, for our Maida’s sake, leave her alone forthe present. She is so worried and anxious, so wrought up to the veryverge of collapse, that if you try to talk to her she will go all topieces.”
“But that’s all wrong. I ought to soothe her, to comfort her—not make hermore troubled!”
“You ought to, I know, but you wouldn’t. Oh, it isn’t your fault—it isn’tthat you don’t love her enough—not that she doesn’t love you enough—infact, that’s just the trouble. Try to see it, Jeff. Maida is in theclutch of circumstances. I don’t know the facts, you don’t; but it istrue that the kindest thing we can do for her just now is to leave heralone. She will do right——”
“As she sees it, yes! But she sees wrong, I know she does! The child hasalways been overconscientious—and I’m positive that whatever she is upto, it’s something to save her father!”
“Oh, Jeff—then you believe he is——”
“Why, Mrs. Wheeler, don’t _you_ know whether your husband killed Mr.Appleby or not?”
“I don’t know! Heaven help me—how can I know? The two of them, shieldingeach other——”
“Wait a minute, if they are shielding each other—they’re both innocent!”
“But it isn’t that way. Mr. Wheeler said to me, at first: ‘Of course,either Maida or I did it. We both know which one did it, but if we don’ttell, no one else can know.’”
“I see that point; but I should think, knowing both so closely as you do,you could discern the truth—and”—he gazed at her steadily—“you have.”
“Yes—I have. Of course, as you say, in such intimacy as we three are, itwould be impossible for me not to know.”
“And—it was Maida?”
“Yes, Jeffrey.”
“How are you certain?”
“Her father saw her.”
“Saw her shoot?”
“Yes.”
“Then, I’m glad you told me. I’m going to marry her at once, and have allrights of her protection through the trial—if it comes to that. Nothingelse could have convinced me of her act! Poor, dear little Maida. I’veknown her capability for sudden, impulsive action but—oh, well, if Mr.Wheeler saw her—that’s all there is to be said. Now, dear Mrs. Wheeler,you must let me go to my Maida!”
“But, Jeffrey, I only told you that to persuade you to let her alone. Lether have her own way. She says that to marry Curtis Keefe will save herfrom prosecution—even from suspicion. She says he can free her from allimplication in the matter.”
“By a fraud?”
“I don’t know——”
“I won’t have it! If Maida did that shooting she had ample excuse—motive,rather. Not a man on a jury would convict her. And I’d rather she’d standtrial and——”
“Oh, no, Jeffrey, don’t talk like that! I’d consent to anything to savethat girl from a trial—oh, you can’t mean you want her tried!”
“Wait, Jeff. We mustn’t be selfish. I’m her mother, and much as I’d hateto see her marry Keefe, I’d far prefer it—for her sake, than——”
“No! a thousand times, no! Why, I won’t give her up! Keefe is a fineman—I’ve nothing against him—but she’s my Maida—my own littlesweetheart——”
“And for that reason—for your own sake—you’re going to claim her?”
“It isn’t only for my own sake”—Jeff spoke more humbly; “but I know—Iknow how she loves me. To let her marry another would be to do her agrievous wrong——”
“Not if she wants to—look there!”
Mrs. Wheeler pointed from the window, and they saw Maida walking acrossthe lawn in deep and earnest conversation with Curtis Keefe. He was talland handsome and the deferential air and courteous attitude all spoke inhis favor. Maida was apparently listening with interest to his talk, andthey went on slowly toward the old sycamore and sat down on the benchbeneath it.
“Our trysting-place!” Jeffrey murmured, his eyes fastened on the pair.
It did not require over-close observation to see that Maida was listeningwillingly to Keefe. Nor was there room for doubt that he was sayingsomething that pleased her. She was brighter and more cheerful than shehad been for days.
“You see,” said Sara Wheeler, sadly. “And he is a worth-while man. Mr.Appleby thought very highly of him.”
“I don’t!” said Allen, briefly, and unable to stand any more, he left theroom.
He went straight to the two who were sitting under the big tree, andspoke directly:
“What does this mean, Maida? Your mother tells me you——”
“Let me answer,” spoke up Keefe, gaily; “it means that Miss Wheeler haspromised to marry me. And we ask your congratulations.”
“Are you not aware,” Jeff’s face was white but his voice was controlledand steady, “that Miss Wheeler is my fiancée?”
“Hardly that,” demurred Keefe. “I believe there was what is called anunderstanding, but I’m assured it has never been announced. However, thelady will speak for herself.”
“Go away, Jeff,” Maida pleaded; “please, go away.”
“Not until you tell me yourself, Maida, what you are doing. Why does Mr.Keefe say these things?”
“It is true.” Maida’s face was as white as Allen’s. “I am going to marryMr. Keefe. If you considered me bound to you, I—hereby break it off.Please go away!” the last words were wrung from her in a choked, agonizedvoice, as if she were at the end of her composure.
“I’m going,” Allen said, and went off in a daze.
He was convinced of one thing only. That Maida was in the power ofsomething or some person—some combination of circumstances that forcedher to this. He had no doubt she meant what she said; had no doubt shewould really marry Keefe—but he couldn’t think she had ceased to lovehim—her own Jeffrey! If he thought that, he was ready to die!
He walked along half blindly, thinking round in circles, always comingback to the possibility—now practically a certainty—of Maida being themurderer, and wondering how Keefe meant to save her from the clutches ofthe law. He was perturbed—almost dazed, and as he went along unseeingly,Genevieve Lane met him, turned and walked by his side.
“What’s Curtie Keefe doing with your girl?” she asked, for the rollinglawn was so free of trees, the pair beneath the sycamore could be plainlyseen.
“I don’t know!” said Allen, honestly enough, as he looked in thegood-humored face of the stenographer.
“I don’t want him making love to her,” Miss Lane went on, pouting alittle, “first, because she’s altogether too much of a belle anyway; andsecond—because——”
She paused, almost scared at the desperate gaze Allen gave her.
“I hope you mean because you look upon him as your property,” he said,but without smiling.
“Now, just why do you hope that?”
“Because in that case, surely you can get him back——”
“Oh, what an aspersion on Miss Wheeler’s fascinations!”
“Hush; I’m in no mood for chaffing. Are you and Keefe special friends?”
Genevieve looked at him a moment, and then said, very frankly: “If we’renot, it isn’t my fault. And—to tell you the bald truth, we would havebeen, had not Miss Wheeler come between us.”
“Are you sure of that?”
“How rude you are! But, yes—I’m practically sure. Nobody can be sure tillthey’re certain, you know.”
“Don’t try to joke with me. Look here, Miss Lane, suppose you and I tryto work together for our respective ends.”
“Meaning just what, Mr. Allen?”
“Meaning that we try to separate Keefe and Maida—not just at thismoment—but seriously and permanently. You, because you want him, and I,because I want her. Isn’t it logical?”
“Yes; but if I could get him back, don’t you suppose I would?”
“You don’t get the idea. You’re to work for me, and I for you.”
“Oh—I try to make Maida give him up—and you——”
“Yes; but we must have some pretty strong arguments. Now, have you anyidea why Maida has——”
“Has picked him up with the tongs? I have a very decided idea! In fact, Iknow.”
“You do! Is it a secret?”
“It is. Such a big secret, that if it leaked out, the whole universe, sofar as it affects the Wheeler family, would be turned topsy-turvy!”
“Connected with the—the death of Mr. Appleby?”
“Not with the murder—if that’s what you mean. But it was because of thedeath of Mr. Appleby that the secret came to light.”
“Can you tell me?”
“I can—but do I want to?”
“What would make you want to?”
“Why—only if you could do what you sort of suggested—make Mr. Keeferesume his attentions to poor little Genevieve and leave the lovely Maidato you.”
“But how can I do that?”
“Dunno, I’m sure! Do you want me to tell you the secret, and then try toget my own reward by my own efforts?”
“Oh, I don’t know what I want! I’m nearly distracted. But”—he pulledhimself together—“I’m on the job! And I’m going to accomplish something—alot! Now, I’m not going to dicker with you. Size it up for yourself.Don’t you believe that if you told me that secret—confidentially—exceptas it can be used in the furtherance of right and happiness for allconcerned—don’t you believe that I might use it in a way that wouldincidentally result in a better adjustment of the present Keefe-Wheelercombination?” He nodded toward the two under the sycamore.
“Maybe,” Genevieve said, slowly and thoughtfully, “I thought of tellingMr. Stone—but——”
“Tell me first, and let me advise you.”
“I will; I have confidence in you, Mr. Allen, and, too, it may be a goodthing to keep the secret in the family. The truth is, then, that Mrs.Wheeler is not legally the heir to this estate.”
“She is, if she lives in Massachusetts, and the house is so built——”
“Oh, fiddlesticks! I don’t mean that part of it. The estate is left withthe proviso that the inheritor shall live in Massachusetts—but, what Imean is, that it isn’t left to Mrs. Wheeler at all. She thought it was,of course—but there is another heir.”
“Is there? I’ve often heard them speak of such a possibility but theynever could find a trace of one.”
“I know it, and they’re so honest that if they knew of one they’d put upno fight. I mean if they knew there is a real heir, and that Sara Wheeleris not the right inheritor.”
“Who is?”
“Curtis Keefe!”
“Oh, no! Miss Lane, are you sure?”
“I am. I discovered it from Mr. Appleby’s private papers, since hisdeath.”
“Does Keefe know it?”
“Of course; but he doesn’t know I know it. Now
, see here, Mr. Allen, getthis. Mr. Appleby knew it when he came down here. He—this is only my owntheory, but I’ll bet it’s the right one—he had discovered it lately;Keefe didn’t know it. My theory is, that he came down here to hold thatknowledge as a club over the head of Mr. Wheeler to force him to do his,Appleby’s, bidding in the campaign matters. Well, then—he was killed toprevent the information going any farther.”
“Killed by whom?”
Genevieve shrugged her shoulders. “I can’t say. Any one of the threeWheelers might have done it for that reason.”
“No; you’re wrong. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Wheeler would have. They’d giveup the place at once.”
“Your mental reservation speaks for itself! That leaves Maida! Supposeshe knew it and the rest didn’t. Suppose, in order to keep the knowledgefrom her parents——”
“Don’t go on!” he begged. “I see it—maybe it was so. But—what next?”
“Next—alas, Curt Keefe has fallen a victim to Maida’s smiles. That’swhat’s making more trouble than anything else. I’m positive he is arguingthat if she will marry him he will keep quiet about his being the heir.Then, her parents can live here in peace for the rest of their lives.”
“I begin to see.”
“I knew you would. Now, knowing this, and being bound to secrecyconcerning it, except, as you agreed, if it can serve our ends, where dowe go from here?”
Allen looked at her steadily. “Do you expect, Miss Lane, that I willconsent to keep this secret from the Wheelers?”
“You’ll have to,” she returned, simply. “Maida knows it, therefore it’sher secret now. If she doesn’t want her parents told—you can’t presume totell them!”
Allen looked blank. “And you mean, she’d marry Keefe, to keep the secretfrom her parents?”
“Exactly that; and there’d be no harm in keeping the secret that way, forif Curt Keefe were her husband, it wouldn’t matter whether he was therightful heir or not, if he didn’t choose to exercise or even make knownhis rights.”
“I see. And—as to the——”
“The murder?” Genevieve helped him. “Well, I don’t know. If Maida didit—and I can’t see any way out of that conclusion, Curt will do whateverhe can to get her off easily. Perhaps he can divert suspicionelsewhere—you know he made up that bugler man, and has stuck to him—maybehe can get a persons unknown verdict—or maybe, with money and influence,he can hush the whole thing up—and, anyway—Maida would never beconvicted. Why, possibly, the threat of Mr. Appleby—if he didthreaten—could be called blackmail. Anyhow, if there’s a loophole, CurtisKeefe will find it! He’s as smart as they make ’em. Now, you know theprobabilities—almost the inevitabilities, I might say, what are we goingto do about it?”
“Something pretty desperate, I can tell you!”
“Fine talk, but what’s the first step?”
“Do you want to know what I think?”
“I sure do.”
“Then, I say, let’s take the whole story to Fleming Stone—and at once.”
The Mystery of the Sycamore Page 16