"You see," Richard explained, "it wasn't usually showing like this. The flatiron was tied on only when whoever arranged it wanted the brick to travel across the floor, and the wind had to be blowing or the thing wouldn't work. The weight of the iron alone was not sufficient to pull the brick, but when the wind blew it swung the iron a bit, and the brick moved along slowly. When the brick finally got all the way across and stopped at the wall, the iron was removed, and the brick returned to its starting point. When the brick is in its original place the rope doesn't hang down below the shutter and doesn't show."
"Was that floorboard loose in the attic?" I asked. Berg nodded. "Then why wasn't all this discovered before?"
Berg took me firmly by the arm and led me back to the hall. Donald Tait and the deputy had gone, but Joe still lounged against the wall, chewing his cud.
"She wants to know why all this was not discovered before," Berg said to him.
Joe sniffed. "Ask her about that bit of dirt she was gonna spill."
The three of them stood and looked at me expectantly, and my mind flew around like a squirrel in a cage. At last I said desperately, "Well, it's about the baby. I mean there isn't any."
"Is she feverish?" Richard asked, putting a hand on my forehead.
Joe said slowly, "You mean that baby whose father wasn't who he should've been?"
Berg murmured, "Rhynda?" and I said, "Well, er—"
Joe yawned. "Put Nosey to bed," he said. "I'm sleepy, but I can't settle down until she's outa the way."
Berg and Richard each took one of my arms and steered me back to Rhynda's room. They both gave me a kiss and put me firmly inside the door. I muttered, "Damn their casual kisses," and stubbed my toe.
The string of profanity that I let out relieved me and roused Rhynda. She said, "For God's sake, shut up!"
I climbed into bed and settled down and shortly fell into an uneasy sleep. I could not have slept more than half an hour when something aroused me. I glanced at the small illuminated clock by the bed and saw that it was a quarter to three. I could not hear any sound, but I knew that something had disturbed me, and I presently sat up and looked uneasily at Rhynda's bed.
It was empty.
CHAPTER 23
I lay for a while listening to the moaning of the wind and waiting for Rhynda to come back, presumably from the bathroom.
My thoughts trailed off rather drowsily to the idea that when I bought a house of my own, I'd make sure it was in a spot where there was no wind. I must have slept again briefly, for I roused suddenly, looked at the clock, and saw that it was ten minutes past three. Rhynda had been gone for twenty-five minutes!
I was wide awake now and thoroughly frightened. I knew that I'd have to go and search for her, and I was terrified of what I might find. I slipped out of bed, struggled into my dressing gown, and turned on the light. I satisfied myself that Rhynda was not in the room and then slowly opened the door into the hall.
It was pitch-dark out there and impossible to tell from where I stood whether the bathroom light was out or whether it was on and the door closed. I hesitated for a moment and then walked out into the hall, leaving the bedroom door wide open so that I would have as much light as possible.
I started down towards the bathroom and had not gone more than a few steps when a sound behind me caused me to look back sharply, just in time to see the door swing slowly to and shut with a faint click. I realized that it was probably the draft from the open window and reminded myself sternly that the doors in the house were well-built and usually closed quietly. But I was in a mild-panic, and I knew it. I was afraid to go back to the bedroom and afraid to go on, and I stood still in the darkness for a while with my teeth chattering.
I pulled myself together with an effort and decided to go on to the bathroom and see if Rhynda was there. I started down the hall again, but as my eyes grew more accustomed to the darkness, I became conscious of a grayish oblong which I recognized as the bathroom window. The door was open and the light off, then!
I stopped again, hesitating between going on and lighting the bathroom and going back to open the bedroom door. And as I stood there in the darkness and silence, I heard from downstairs, quite clearly and musically, the notes of the dinner gong!
I remained, frozen and fixed, while the thing played the chime that Doris always used to summon us to meals and went on to a faulty but recognizable attempt at "Swanee River." It had been John's favorite tune, I knew, and he had often sat at the piano and tried to pick it out with one finger, and even with one finger had made innumerable mistakes.
I whirled around and fled back to the bedroom, but with my hand on the knob my terror settled a little. Probably it was Rhynda walking in her sleep, or something of the sort. At any rate, someone ought to go down and bring her back to bed.
I swallowed a couple of times, squared my shoulders, and made for the stairs. I silently cursed Mrs. Ballinger for not having an upstairs switch for the lower hall as I crept down through the darkness.
By the time I got to the bottom my fear had returned and I was in a cold sweat. Why had no one else heard the gong? And where was Joe? I realized, of course, that the notes of the gong were mellow rather than piercing, and that I probably would not have heard it myself if I had been in bed and asleep as I should have been.
I nearly retreated back up the stairs, but Rhynda was still on my mind, so I clung to the newel post and called her name in a quavering falsetto. There was no answering sound, and after a moment, I abandoned the newel post, made a dash across the hall, and switched on the light.
The gong was in the back part of the hall behind the stairs, and feeling better now that I was no longer walled in by darkness, I went around and had a look at it. It appeared to be as usual and was hanging still. I stared at it helplessly, and then my eyes traveled downwards to the floor beneath it, and I saw the gleam of a plain pin. I picked it up and knew somehow, even before I took it back to where the light was better, that it had a black head.
So now there was only one missing again. I stuck the one I had found in the collar of my dressing gown and wondered nervously if we'd ever find the other. I was distracted by a noise from the kitchen and I felt sure that it must be Rhynda. I made my way back there and cautiously opened the kitchen door.
The light was on, and Doris stood by the table. She was wrapped in a woolen bathrobe that was about two sizes too small, and her hair dangled down her back in a pigtail. I drew a little breath of relief and walked in.
She looked at me and said aggrievedly, "What in God's name is going on around here tonight?"
"I'd like to know myself. Did you hear the gong?"
She folded her arms. "I did, and I don't mind admitting that this dump gives me the creeps. I'm looking for another job, and when I find one, not even Joe is going to keep me here."
I sat down in a chair, rested my arms on the table, and gave a vast yawn. "I don't blame you. I'm going to get another job myself, one where you can sleep during the night. Have you heard anyone in the kitchen?"
She nodded. "About ten minutes ago, shortly before the gong went off. Say, listen, I'm going to make some coffee. Want some?"
"Why not? No use trying to sleep."
She busied herself noisily with the coffeepot and the cups and saucers, and I felt myself relaxing comfortably.
"Have you any idea who came in here?" I asked after a while. She said, "Nope," and slid spoons into the saucers. "Well, what did they do?"
"Tiptoed in, opened a drawer, fooled some with the things in the drawer, closed it and went out."
"Sounds like Joe," I said thoughtfully. "Do you know which drawer was opened, or whether anything was taken? "
"Nope, no notion. I never was much good at remembering what we're supposed to have, and unless they took something I use a lot, I don't guess I'll miss it, whatever it was."
I wanted her to look, then and there, to see if anything was missing, but she refused.
"What difference would it
make," she said reasonably, "if I did find that something was gone? My land, child! You're getting to be as bad as Joe."
She brought the coffeepot to the table and sat down. I wanted to suggest that it might have been a knife that was taken, in which case we ought to rouse one of the men, but I felt sure she'd laugh at me, and anyway I was momentarily appalled at the idea that I might be getting as bad as Joe. I swallowed some scalding coffee and said instead, "But, Doris, who would ring that gong in the middle of the night? And why? It scares me, somehow. I'm afraid to go back to bed."
She chuckled. "Just you make a dash for it and don't stop to speak to any ghosts on the way. Serves you right for getting up in the first place. Once you go to bed in this Godforsaken place you should stay there until morning."
"I wish I had," I said dispiritedly.
She took a couple of gusty swallows and then suddenly put her cup down with a faint bang. "Say! Maybe it was the old lady ringing that gong. Maybe one of her attacks came on."
"Attacks?" I repeated, staring.
"Yeah. Mrs. Ballinger. Angina."
"Angina! But she couldn't. I'd have known about it."
"No, you wouldn't. She doesn't like anyone to know. She has a little thing hanging around her neck, some kind of medicine, and it has directions how to use it. I heard Rhynda and that Amy talking about it last summer. They were saying something about she hadn't had an attack for quite a while, and though they didn't come right out with it, they kinda talked like they expected the next one to finish her."
"But she should have told us! We might have wasted valuable time if she had had an attack when no one else was around."
"Maybe she's lying under the gong now," said Doris, with apparent unconcern.
I shook my head. "She's not there. I went there first. Unless she rang it and then went off somewhere."
"No," Doris said promptly. "Angina takes them quick. If she rang that gong for help, she'd be lying under it now."
We finished our coffee, and Doris stood up. "Well, don't you be scared, dearie. You just make a dash upstairs to your bedroom, and it'll all be over in a minute."
I thought of Rhynda and immediately convinced myself that she would be back in her bed by this time and that I had better take Doris's advice. She announced that she was going to leave the kitchen light on, said good night to me, and went off to her room.
I started into the back hall and then realized that the downstairs hall light had either gone out or been switched off. I backed into the kitchen again, relieved myself by swearing softly but luridly, and controlled a strong desire to cry.
I decided to go around by the butler's pantry, dining room, and the large drawing room, where I could turn on the lights as I went along. I got through the butler's pantry, and leaving the door wide, found my way easily to the dining-room switch. With the diningroom comfortably flooded with light, I started back to turn off the switch in the butler's pantry.
Something odd about the dining-room table caught my attention, and I turned to look. It was the telephone that I had last seen on the bedside table in my old room. I stared at it and then bent down to look at it more closely.
The mouthpiece was stained with blood.
CHAPTER 24
I turned and ran back to the kitchen with the intention of rousing Doris again, but with my hand raised to knock on her door, I hesitated. I'd feel a bit of a fool if it turned out that it was not blood on that telephone after all. Suppose, when I told Doris about it, she said, "Oh, I dropped that in some tomato ketchup."
"And how in hell," I whispered to myself, with my teeth chattering, "could Doris manage to drop an unused telephone into some tomato ketchup and then put it on the dining-room table without wiping it off?"
But standing alone in that empty, silent kitchen was worse than making a fool of myself to Doris, so I rapped smartly on her door. I heard her mutter, "Tch, tch," and then she plodded to the door and flung it open.
"Oh, Doris," I babbled, "there's an old telephone on the dining-room table, and there's blood on it."
She sighed and said patiently, "Listen, dearie, you're all excited, and I'm tired. Now you just run right upstairs, and get into bed, and you'll feel better in the morning."
"But the telephone! I tell you it has blood on it!"
"Tell Joe about it," she said firmly. "He's paid to listen to that stuff, and I have my own job. You go on up to bed. Good night."
The door closed with a click of finality, and I was left staring at its wooden surface and wondering at her nonchalant courage.
I turned away and thought miserably of the distance that separated me from my bed. I half considered screaming until someone came but discarded the idea almost immediately. I'd feel pretty silly when they all turned up, and all I could say was, "There's an old telephone in the dining room, and either it has blood on it or there's tomato ketchup around its mouth." I could imagine Richard grinning at me and knew he'd make some remark about the telephone being a sloppy eater.
I gave brief consideration to the idea of staying in the kitchen for the remainder of the night, but since it was almost as terrifying as going upstairs and would last longer, I decided against that too. There was nothing for it, then, but to go back to the bedroom, and I made up my mind to take Doris's advice and make a dash for it.
I did not wait to think any more about it, for fear I'd lose my courage. I ran through the back hall, around into the front hall, and made for the stairs. But halfway across the hall, I stopped dead. It was very dark, but not too dark to see that someone stood directly between me and the foot of the stairs.
I gasped, felt the sweat start on my forehead, and called in a voice I hardly recognized, "Is that you, Rhynda?"
There was no sound from the black shapeless thing, and at that moment Rhynda's voice floated down from the top of the stairs. "Leigh!" she said urgently. "Leigh Smith! Where in hell are you?"
I tried to answer and couldn't. I made some sort of strangled sound, and then the still figure moved and began silently to advance on me.
I turned and fled blindly, and after a moment I bumped heavily against a door. I wrenched it open, felt the sting of cold air on my face, and realized that I was on the front steps. A small portion of my mind registered thanks for the fact that since I had been off duty no one had bothered to lock the front door at night.
I flew down the steps and onto the path, which turned sharply, and ran along under the front windows. I wanted to get away from the house, but the path had a heavy border of shrubbery, and I was afraid that I would not be able to break through. So I kept to the path and almost immediately tripped over something and fell full length. It was something soft and bulky, and as I struggled desperately to get up, my hand touched a human face and came away wet and sticky.
I backed into the shrubbery and began to cry with horror and fear and cold. I knew that the inert body at my feet must have help and that I could not face the front hall again, alone. I clutched at the neck of my bathrobe with the numb fingers of the hand that was not sticky, and raising my head, shouted, "Help! Help! Help! Help!"
The first "Help" was a bit self-conscious, but the others were without inhibitions of any sort. I wanted someone to come.
I knew that Rhynda was awake, but her bedroom was on the other side of the house. I was standing directly under Amy's windows, and Donald Tait's room was on the corner. I shouted again, and after an interval Amy's room was lighted and she and Donald peered out.
"Get Joe!" I shrieked at them. "There's someone lying here hurt, and there's someone in the front hall, and I'm dying of cold!"
They disappeared, and shortly afterward lights were put on downstairs. I rushed back to the front door, then, and went in. Amy and Donald were in the hall, and Richard was just coming down the stairs.
"Couldn't find Joe," Donald said, and Amy added, "We got Richard."
I told them where to find the body, and the two men went out. I collapsed onto the bottom stair, and Amy leaned against the ne
wel post and looked at me curiously. "What've you been crying for? What were you doing out there in the garden, at this time?"
"I lost a nickel there, this afternoon," I said shortly.
"Well, what are you mad about? Why can't you tell me what happened?"
"Wait till I get the rest of my audience," I said wearily. "I don't want to tell it ten times."
The sound of hurried footsteps upstairs was followed by Mrs. Ballinger's voice demanding shrilly, "What's going on down there?" I heard Rosalie Hannahs say immediately, "Now, my dear, you must be calm. We'll just go down and see." They started down together, and I reflected grimly that my place as companion seemed to be filled.
Richard and Donald were coming up the veranda steps, slowly and carefully, and Joe appeared suddenly, racing down the stairs and very nearly upsetting Rosalie and Mrs. Ballinger on the way.
"A trifle late, Joseph," I murmured, but he ignored me as he thudded past. He went to the assistance of Richard and Donald, and the three of them laid their burden on a couch in the drawing room.
It was Berg. He had a nasty wound in his forehead, and the blood had run down over his face. He was quite unconscious, and I thought he was dead. He had on pajamas, his dressing robe, and a pair of shoes.
Joe examined him briefly and announced that he was still alive, and I rushed to the telephone to summon Dr. O'Beirne. He answered himself and promised to come at once, and I went back to the drawing room. Joe gave me an evil look and asked what the blood was doing on my hand.
"Not a thing," I said, feeling a bit light-headed. "It has been waiting very patiently for me to wash it off."
The room and the people in it wavered a bit unsteadily before my eyes for a moment, and I heard myself saying distinctly, "The weapon will be found on the dining-room table, but you won't find my fingerprints on it, because I never touched it."
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