"I must have overlooked these," he said whimsically. Maddie pursed her thin lips. "We'll leave you to play for a bit," smiled Simon, patting the boy's shoulder, "we have to persuade Maddie to make us a cup of tea in the kitchen." The old nurse seemed to hesitate before complying. "You'll take pity on a chilly old man, won't you?" went on the mystic. The tone of his voice decided her. "Sure you haven't a thermos flask in your pocket?" she snapped, with a thin smile.
"A fair hit!" laughed Iff. They followed her to the kitchen.
"No harm shall come," said Simon very gravely, "if you are sensible. You are a clever woman; you ought to understand that I am a friend."
"What do you want of me?"
"Just silence and a cup of tea, for the moment."
She was amazed; she had expected a very different request.
Simon motioned Black out of the kitchen.
"Take your boots off," he whispered, "and follow me."
Tiptoe in their socks, Iff led the inspector back to the playroom.
Jack Craddock had ceased to build up his machine. He was sitting preternaturally still, his head drooping, his eyes fixed on vacancy. The men went softly back to the kitchen.
"Come!" cried Simon gaily, "let me carry in the tea-tray! I must do my share, mustn't I?"
Maddie refused indignantly. She stalked majestically back to the playroom, and set down the tray with what came very near to being a bang.
"Two lumps, Mr. Iff?" she inquired with some acidity.
"Hardly," he replied. "But I will take both milk and lemon."
Her eyes were gimlets.
"I want to tell Inspector Black my secret method of disclosing mysteries. It is quite a new idea. I go to the people who happen to know, and I ask them." The Inspector seemed to be enjoying the cigar. "I would like my tea strong," he said to Maddie. "I want to wake up!"
"Indeed you do!" cried Simon.
"One to you."
"Now Maddie, tell us the whole story, and you'll feel better. Come, Jack, let's build a Great Wheel!"
The old man squatted on the floor like a Buddha, and began with incredible swiftness to construct his model. Jack was entranced. Black smoked intently. Maddie sipped her tea.
"I know nothing," she said at last.
"Ah! the formula of recognition of a Secret Society, wasn't it?" said Iff. "I'm in good standing. I know nothing too, and I know I know it. However, we're all attention!"
"You don't seem to have any doubt," said Maddie, "and I own you appeal to me somehow. But you must be crazy to think I'd say a word before Master Jack."
"On the contrary; send me and Black out of the room if you like. But you've got to tell him, if you never tell anybody else."
"Crazy," she murmured.
"You're a good woman, and I'm a bit of a doctor of souls, in a small way."
"I've committed a crime."
Black pulled out a note-book, and warned her formally in the usual terms. Maddie laughed rather bitterly.
"You're rocking the boat," said Iff to Jonas. "Put away the note-book. Your memory is going to receive some very indelible impressions, or I'm wrong again!"
"Duty," grunted Black.
"Well, go on, Maddie. He doesn't count, does he?"
"Nothing counts, now."
"Oh yes, Jack's a boy, isn't he?" and he began to sing: "Jack's the boy for work, Jack's the boy for play, Jack's the lad when girls are sad to kiss the tears away!"
Maddie took up her knitting. "Least said, soonest mended," and she shut her mouth like a spring.
"Then I must tell my story ... first."
"I'll leave you with Mr. Inspector."
"No, no. He desires your charming company, I feel sure."
Maddie understood that the detective was itching to arrest her. She did three plain and three purl. Then Simon Iff began to speak.
"You remember the points I called to your attention upstairs, Black?"
He nodded his assent.
"Take the first in point of time.
"Here is a debauched woman - excuse me, I must speak out - who takes a bath at seven o'clock on a November morning. Why? It suggests a 'white night'. Her husband, with no reason in the world for rising early, does so also."
"Well, he had to cut his throat, didn't he? Early morning's the favourite time o' day."
"Yes, yes, the bath's the point. Water isn't hot at that hour as a rule, is it?"
"Nope. Get busy."
"If you ever want to cut a man's throat, Black, do it when you're naked, and plenty of water handy."
Iff never stopped building his Great Wheel; but Jack had ceased to co-operate. He sat with ears cocked.
"But she had no reason in the world to do it!"
"Oh yes! ask any woman who knows what husbands are!"
"Say, am I riding the goat in this lodge?"
"I know; I'm deducing everything from nothing. But that's just what creation is, eh?"
"You can't create that sort of dope in New Jersey!"
"Well, I'm just sort of knitting. Three plain and three purl, isn't it? Two and two don't make four until you have two and two! Listen to point number two!
"Here is a woman who is all jollity and drunkenness and free love, till the lower part of her face might be a model for a female Silenus. And all the time her forehead is tightening with agony, and her eyes growing wider and wilder. Just suppose for one instant that my crazy suggestion about the bath is correct. Then it's natural. She tries to forget with cards and lovers and drink. When she's alone she's half crazy - probably that means dope. Cocaine, for guess No. 2. I didn't mention it upstairs, because I hadn't made up my mind what to do, but there was a speck of shining white caught on a hair in one nostril."
Maddie put down her knitting. Simon Iff waited for her to speak. But in a few moments she picked up her needles and went on.
"Go on? Good idea. Point number three. Imagine one and one make two. Then we have a woman - a half or three parts crazy woman - who probably has something very like melancholia whenever she is alone for a little, whenever the friends leave her, or the drink wears off, or the dope fails. With this melancholia she probably has hallucinations. Very likely she acts as did Lady Macbeth."
"This is a whole lot of 'very likely', marked down from 'perhaps' for the spring stock-taking sales," laughed the Inspector.
"Wait for point four. Who murders her? Somebody absolutely incompetent, but very much in earnest. Somebody who knows for certain that she will not wake while he is at work. Somebody who quite fails to adjust thought and deed; for throat-cutting is a swift passionate business. One gets the idea of a sleep-walker, perhaps?"
Maddie smiled grimly.
"I own up," she said swiftly.
"My dear good woman," protested Iff, "you're the most efficient person I've seen in ten years. You never bungled or fumbled in your life."
"But sleep-walking alters that."
"True. How do you know you did it?"
"Blood on my nightgown."
"Show us!"
"I got scared, and burnt it."
"Good for you! Consider me as having risen and bowed. We can then continue with common sense."
Maddie took up her knitting. "With all due deference," she said, "damn you, Mr. Iff!"
"Well," laughed Simon, "I was rather damned when I saw what I saw. To proceed. Here is a crime exactly like her own in every point but what might appear the essentials. Hers was deliberate and skilful malice, the other a mere childish imitation."
"Damn you, Mr. Iff."
"Only one person could have done it - a person with a mind exactly like her own. We must rule out all men; a man would have made one sweep. We must rule out all women; a woman would have fled when the first half-hearted cut drew blood. That leaves us with children - and there's only one child in the picture."
Iff ended with a sort of amiably triumphant snap of the fingers. "I'm sorry to bother you about a trifle," said Maddie; "but there isn't a razor in the house."
"Oh yes, t
here is - or was. It's the razor that she killed her husband with; and it is - or was - in the hiding-place where the cocaine is. I can trust Mr. Black to find that place."
"You can," said Black, "if there is one. But this yarn's still a bit of a pipe dream."
"You saw for yourself how Jack behaves when he's alone. With us, the jolly laughing boy; this talk has only made him half serious. Alone, he becomes a brooding solitary soul, the vulture of misery, misery without cause in environment but wholly in heredity, gnawing his vitals. Can't you see his mother's eyes and forehead again? And her mouth as it was before it was corrupted? We must work upon that mouth and jaw; we must teach them to transfigure the eyes!"
"Excuse me," said Maddie, quietly. "I have been wrong. I have very little to say, but I will say it. I nursed Grace Chalmers - as she then was - at my breast. Her mother died when she was born; she was just such a child as Jack is now; her very melancholy fits made her more loveable because more pitiable; only, she was always as deceitful as the devil. At seventeen she married Craddock. From him she suffered the most intolerable wrong, and I guess it went to her brain. She couldn't sleep any more. A friend of hers - some friend! - taught her to use drugs. Then she killed Craddock, killed him with utmost cunning. She told me; I helped to avert any suspicion. There's my crime, Inspector, write it down! I stuck to her as, God helping me, I'll always stick to any one I love. I lost my husband in a railroad wreck, and my boy died a month later. Well, that's neither here nor there. After Craddock's death her melancholy increased. She took to drink and men; when she was alone it was morphine, or ether, or cocaine. She got to seeing things. She couldn't bear to be alone; Jack slept in the next room. Her thoughts turned always to the one scene - the scene in the bathroom. She would take out the razor and act it again and again. One night her screams woke me; I went to quiet her. I found her rehearsing the murder with Jack. But she was too lazy to stand up. The cocaine hit her heart, I think. So she made Jack stand by the bed and play at cutting her throat. I was horrified: I stormed; I threatened; I cajoled. Of course she promised never to do anything of the sort again. Of course she broke the promise. But what was I to do? I could prove nothing; and if I did, I made it worse. I could only pray. God! how I have prayed..."
"This Great Wheel is an awful mess," remarked Simon Iff to Jack; "we must not think of ourselves as all-wise, all-powerful, all-benevolent, perhaps. The best way to judge a workman is by his work, eh?"
Jack nodded merrily. "We'll build a new one, better."
"Good boy!" and they pulled their experiment to pieces, and began again. Maddie took up her story once more.
"Two nights ago Jack came to me. His nightdress was covered with blood. He was very frightened, in a very calm way. Weren't you, Jacky, boy?"
"Course I wasn't. Mummy said to hold my tongue about it. Come on, Mr. Iff."
"I hid the traces as well as I could," said Maddie.
"Where's the razor?"
"I don't know. I never knew her hiding-place. She was as cunning as the devil."
"Hum." Iff meditated a moment. "Will you two go and make some waffles for us?"
"I trust you," was all Maddie answered, as she rose to comply.
When Simon Iff was left alone with Jack, he very soon began to exhibit signs of weariness. Building wheels became a bore. The boy reflected his new friend's emotion; lassitude seized him. The conversation lagged. Iff lay at full length on the carpet. Jack fell into his mood of wretchedness. Simple Simon, watching him keenly, said at last, in a soft voice: "let's play killing poppa."
"Mummy said to hold my tongue about it."
"But Mummy isn't here, and I want to play."
"I haven't got the razor."
"Let's go and get it!"
They went upstairs, the boy giggling as if he were being tickled, and came to the room where the dead woman lay.
"Will he play poppa?" asked Jack, pointing to the policeman.
"No, I'll play poppa." Iff turned to the constable. "Say, Buddy, Mr. Inspector wants to see you right away," he said in his broken American, "I'll see all's fair."
The constable yawned, stretched himself, and departed. Simon knew that Black would understand, and keep him out of the way.
The boy spontaneously began to play.
"Oh darling, I haven't slept one wink," he lisped, in an affected feminine voice. "I do think I'll take a bath. I've such a headache."
"I'll turn on the water," replied Simple Simon.
"No, you say 'Hell, it's half past six. Do you think I'm a damned stenographer?'"
Iff, kicking himself mentally, repeated the phrase.
"Oh well, I guess I can do it myself."
Warned, Simon growled out: "Oh, lemme sleep!"
Jack clapped his hands merrily.
"That's fine; but you say: 'Hell, lemme sleep. All women are the same.'"
The mystic obeyed, though his nerves were chattering with horror.
The boy began to imitate the noises of running water. It was an extraordinary piece of mimicry; Simon Iff could hardly believe that some one had not in fact turned on the tap.
"You lie down," said the boy. Iff obeyed. Jack took a chair, put it by the wall, and climbed upon it. A narrow wooden rail, intended for hanging pictures, ran round the room about a foot below the ceiling. He pulled off a loose portion of this rail. There was a recess, small indeed, but excellently calculated to hold a year's supply of dope and - a razor.
"Mummy said always to hide the razor before anything else." Jack took it out. It was heavily crusted, ivory handle and all, with blood.
"Now you say 'Damn that noise!'"
"Damn that noise!" said Simon Iff, with the appropriate gruff intonation.
"I'm supposed to be behind the door. Now I say: 'Oh darling, here's the debenture!' and you say 'what?' very loud.
Iff complied with the ritual of this ghastly game.
"Now I say, laughing: 'Annette has used it to fix the mirror'; and you say: 'Christ, I hope you're not joking. Lemme see!'"
Simple Simon repeated the words.
"I can't get it, it's jammed. And you say: 'For Christ's sake, don't tear it! Here, wait!' Only, you're tired to-night; so I come to you instead."
Was the spirit of the dead woman in the room to haunt and to obsess? The great magician felt himself a mere automaton.
"Then, as you come through the door, I jump, and do it!"
But Simon pulled himself together. He caught the boy's arm.
"The game's over, sonny. We'll find a nicer game for you. You know how frightened you are when you find blood all over you."
"All right, Mr. Iff!"
"Let's go down stairs! They'll wonder what we're doing, and that will never do."
"But Mummy said always to put the razor away first of all."
"Right you are."
This done, they went down laughing, hand in hand.
"Take him!" said Simon Iff to Maddie, and beckoned Jonas Black.
Again the bedroom; Iff climbed the chair, and produced the razor. Black smiled grimly.
"Partial to cocaine?" queried the magician, throwing a packet to the detective. "I am, rather," and he pocketed one for himself. "In strict moderation; only when already feeling jolly, and desirous of working all night without fatigue."
"Hum!" said Black, "isn't it taking a chance?"
"So is getting born. The man who takes no chances takes nothing."
"A dangerous doctrine, Mr. Iff."
"So are mountaineering and big-game shooting dangerous sports. But they fit you for the big risks of life. Never be afraid of anything, least of all of yourself. Dope-fiends are born, not made."
The mystic had replaced the section of railing, and climbed down from the chair. He handed the razor to Black, and stood looking at him, attentively.
"In her death-struggle," said the Inspector, without a quaver in his voice, "the unhappy woman must have thrust the weapon beneath her body, perhaps with some unconscious idea of concealment. I blame myself
severely for having failed to discover it on my first inspection. On the other hand, I deduced its position by pure logic. May promotion follow upon this example of the remarkable penetration of Inspector Black! Unless you want a write-up," he added, rather nervously.
"No," laughed the other. "Thine be the kingdom and the power and the glory!"
"Very good of you," Black stammered.
"Come along!"
As they descended the stairs the house bell rang.
"Briscoe!" said Black.
Maddie was opening the door, and Black ran forward.
"I'm a fool! I've troubled you for nothing. It's a clear case of suicide; I've found the razor right under the body."
"I'll beat it," replied Briscoe. "Let's go get a drink."
"I'm on." Black waved a farewell.
Simon turned to Maddie.
"I need a housekeeper," he said. "Not much of that insurance money left, perhaps. Between us we may be able to put Jack and Jack together, don't you think?"
The old woman could not contain herself. Her apron went to her eyes; then she ran pell-mell into the kitchen. "And so," remarked Simon Iff to himself as he left the house, "in my old age I find myself obliged to shut the door. Yet - should not Dobson be back from Manhattan? Intuition crieth yea. I will test it. Anon."
An Old Head on Young Shoulders
Mr. Simon Iff.
"My dear Sir,
It would give much pleasure to Mrs. Barker and myself if you would dine with us to-morrow night, May sixth, at The Pleasance. Seven o'clock precisely.
Yours truly,
Andrew P. Barker."
This letter was written on the stationery of the Bank of Barker and Barker. Its president, who wrote it, was in fact the bank itself. He was one of the most formidable figures in American Finance. He was not spectacular; the public never heard his name; he had never lent it to any movement of dubious or speculative character. In Wall Street his name was a synonym for extreme conservatism. He was a 'gold-bug' of the deepest dye. He made no attacks upon any market. But in defence he was impregnable; the few who had dared to test his resources came out of the brief struggle with their own knocked about severely. His principle was a simple one indeed; it was to consider only real, as opposed to market, values. Once, in his early days, his copper holdings had dropped to derisory prices. At the conference of his scared collegues he had sat silent, turning over the pages of a medical journal. Asked point blank for his opinion, he had said: "I see here that copper is an ingredient of Fehling's solution, which is used for testing for sugar in diabetes. I think we should buy some copper. It will always be useful." He was three millions to the good when the bear raid collapsed.
The Complete Simon Iff Page 19