The Window at the White Cat

by Mary Roberts Rinehart

  CHAPTER III

  NINETY-EIGHT PEARLS

  After such a night I slept late. Edith still kept her honeymoon promiseof no breakfast hour and she had gone out with Fred when I camedown-stairs.

  I have a great admiration for Edith, for her tolerance with my uncertainhours, for her cheery breakfast-room, and the smiling good nature of theservants she engages. I have a theory that, show me a sullen servant andI will show you a sullen mistress, although Edith herself disclaims allresponsibility and lays credit for the smile with which Katie brings inmy eggs and coffee, to largess on my part. Be that as it may, Katie is asmiling and personable young woman, and I am convinced that had shepicked up the alligator on the back-stairs and lost part of the end ofher thumb, she would have told Edith that she cut it off with the breadknife, and thus have saved to us Bessie the Beloved and her fascinatingtrick of taking the end of her tail in her mouth and spinning.

  On that particular morning, Katie also brought me a letter, and Irecognized the cramped and rather uncertain writing of Miss JaneMaitland.

  "DEAR MR. KNOX:

  "Sister Letitia wishes me to ask you if you can dine with us to-night, informally. She has changed her mind in regard to the Colored Orphans' Home, and would like to consult you about it.

  "Very truly yours,

  "SUSAN JANE MAITLAND."

  It was a very commonplace note: I had had one like it after everyboard-meeting of the orphans' home, Miss Maitland being on principle anaggressive minority. Also, having considerable mind, changing it becamealmost as ponderous an operation as moving a barn, although not nearlyso stable.

  (Fred accuses me here of a very bad pun, and reminds me, quiteundeservedly, that the pun is the lowest form of humor.)

  I came across Miss Jane's letter the other day, when I was gatheringthe material for this narrative, and I sat for a time with it in my handthinking over again the chain of events in which it had been the firstlink, a series of strange happenings that began with my acceptance ofthe invitation, and that led through ways as dark and tricks as vain asBret Harte's Heathen Chinee ever dreamed of, to the final scene at theWhite Cat. With the letter I had filed away a half dozen articles and Iranged them all on the desk in front of me: the letter, the bit of paperwith eleven twenty-two on it, that Margery gave me the first time I sawher; a note-book filled with jerky characters that looked like Arabicand were newspaper shorthand; a railroad schedule; a bullet, the latterslightly flattened; a cube-shaped piece of chalk which I put back in itsbox with a shudder, and labeled 'poison,' and a small gold buckle from aslipper, which I--at which I did not shudder.

  I did not need to make the climaxes of my story. They lay before me.

  I walked to the office that morning, and on the way I found andinterviewed the corner-man at Chestnut and Union. But he was of smallassistance. He remembered the incident, but the gentleman in the taxicabhad not been hurt and refused to give his name, saying he was merelypassing through the city from one railroad station to another, and didnot wish any notoriety.

  At eleven o'clock Hunter called up; he said he was going after theaffair himself, but that it was hard to stick a dip net into thepolitical puddle without pulling out a lot more than you went after, orthan it was healthy to get. He was inclined to be facetious, and wantedto know if I had come across any more k. v's. Whereupon I put away thenotes I had made about Delia and Mamie Brennan and I heard him chuckleas I rang off.

  I went to Bellwood that evening. It was a suburban town a dozen milesfrom the city, with a picturesque station, surrounded by lawns andcement walks. Street-cars had so far failed to spoil its tree-borderedstreets, and it was exclusive to the point of stagnation. The Maitlandplace was at the head of the main street, which had at one time been itsdrive. Miss Letitia, who was seventy, had had sufficient commercialinstinct, some years before, to cut her ancestral acres--_their_ancestral acres, although Miss Jane hardly counted--into building lots,except perhaps an acre which surrounded the house. Thus, the Maitlandladies were reputed to be extremely wealthy. And as they never spent anymoney, no doubt they were.

  The homestead as I knew it, was one of impeccable housekeeping andunmitigated gloom. There was a chill that rushed from the old-fashionedcenter hall to greet the new-comer on the porch, and that seemed tofreeze up whatever in him was spontaneous and cheerful.

  I had taken dinner at Bellwood before, and the memory was not hilarious.Miss Letitia was deaf, but chose to ignore the fact. With superbindifference she would break into the conversation with some whollyalien remark that necessitated a reassembling of one's ideas, making themeal a series of mental gymnastics. Miss Jane, through long practice,and because she only skimmed the surface of conversation, took hercerebral flights easily, but I am more unwieldy of mind.

  Nor was Miss Letitia's dominance wholly conversational. Her sister Janewas her creature, alternately snubbed and bullied. To Miss Letitia,Jane, in spite of her sixty-five years, was still a child, and sometimesa bad one. Indeed, many a child of ten is more sophisticated. MissLetitia gave her expurgated books to read, and forbade her to readdivorce court proceedings in the newspapers. Once, a recreant housemaidpresenting the establishment with a healthy male infant, Jane was sentto the country for a month, and was only brought back when the house hadbeen fumigated throughout.

  Poor Miss Jane! She met me with fluttering cordiality in the hall thatnight, safe in being herself for once, with the knowledge that MissLetitia always received me from a throne-like horsehair sofa in the backparlor. She wore a new lace cap, and was twitteringly excited.

  "Our niece is here," she explained, as I took off my coat--everythingwas "ours" with Jane; "mine" with Letitia--"and we are having an ice atdinner. Please say that ices are not injurious, Mr. Knox. My sister isso opposed to them and I had to beg for this."

  "On the contrary, the doctors have ordered ices for my young nephews," Isaid gravely, "and I dote on them myself."

  Miss Jane beamed. Indeed, there was something almost unnaturally gayabout the little old lady all that evening. Perhaps it was the new lacecap. Later, I tried to analyze her manner, to recall exactly what shehad said, to remember anything that could possibly help. But I couldfind no clue to what followed.

  Miss Letitia received me as usual, in the back parlor. Miss Fleming wasthere also, sewing by a window, and in her straight white dress with herhair drawn back and braided around her head, she looked even youngerthan before. There was no time for conversation. Miss Letitia launchedat once into the extravagance of both molasses and butter on the coloredorphans' bread and after a glance at me, and a quick comprehension frommy face that I had no news for her, the girl at the window bent over hersewing again.

  "Molasses breeds worms," Miss Letitia said decisively. "So does pork.And yet those children think Heaven means ham and molasses three timesa day."

  "You have had no news at all?" Miss Fleming said cautiously, her headbent over her work.

  "None," I returned, under cover of the table linen to which MissLetitia's mind had veered. "I have a good man working on it." As sheglanced at me questioningly, "It needed a detective, Miss Fleming."Evidently another day without news had lessened her distrust of thepolice, for she nodded acquiescence and went on with her sewing. MissLetitia's monotonous monologue went on, and I gave it such attention asI might. For the lamps had been lighted, and with every movement of thegirl across, I could see the gleaming of a diamond on her engagementfinger.

  "If I didn't watch her, Jane would ruin them," said Miss Letitia. "Shegives 'em apples when they keep their faces clean, and the bills forsoap have gone up double. Soap once a day's enough for a colored child.Do you smell anything burning, Knox?"

  I sniffed and lied, whereupon Miss Letitia swept her black silk, hercolored orphans and her majestic presence out of the room. As the doorclosed, Miss Fleming put down her sewing and rose. For the first time Isaw how weary she looked.

  "I do not dare to tell them, Mr. Knox," she said. "They are old, andthey hat
e him anyhow. I couldn't sleep last night. Suppose he shouldhave gone back, and found the house closed!"

  "He would telephone here at once, wouldn't he?" I suggested.

  "I suppose so, yes." She took up her sewing from the chair with a sigh."But I'm afraid he won't come--not soon. I have hemmed tea towels forAunt Letitia to-day until I am frantic, and all day I have beenwondering over something you said yesterday. You said, you remember,that you were not a detective, that some men could take nineteen fromthirty-five and leave nothing. What did you mean?"

  I was speechless for a moment.

  "The fact is--I--you see," I blundered, "it was a--merely a figure ofspeech, a--speech of figures is more accurate,--" And then dinner wasannounced and I was saved. But although she said little or nothingduring the meal, I caught her looking across at me once or twice in abewildered, puzzled fashion. I could fairly see her revolving mydetestable figures in her mind.

  Miss Letitia presided over the table in garrulous majesty. The two oldladies picked at their food, and Miss Jane had a spot of pink in eachwithered cheek. Margery Fleming made a brave pretense, but left herplate almost untouched. As for me, I ate a substantial masculine mealand half apologized for my appetite, but Letitia did not hear. She torethe board of managers to shreds with the roast, and denounced them withthe salad. But Jane was all anxious hospitality.

  "Please _do_ eat your dinner," she whispered. "I made the salad myself.And I know what it takes to keep a big man going. Harry eats more thanLetitia and I together. Doesn't he, Margery?"

  "Harry?" I asked.

  "Mrs. Stevens is an unmitigated fool. I said if they elected herpresident I'd not leave a penny to the home. That's why I sent for you,Knox." And to the maid, "Tell Heppie to wash those cups in luke-warmwater. They're the best ones. And not to drink her coffee out of them.She let her teeth slip and bit a piece out of one the last time."

  Miss Jane leaned forward to me after a smiling glance at her nieceacross.

  "Harry Wardrop, a cousin's son, and--" she patted Margery's hand withits ring--"soon to be something closer."

  The girl's face colored, but she returned Miss Jane's gentle pressure.

  "They put up an iron fence," Miss Letitia reverted somberly to hergrievance, "when a wooden one would have done. It was extravagance,ruinous extravagance."

  "Harry stays with us when he is in Manchester," Miss Jane went on,nodding brightly across at Letitia as if she, too, were damning theexecutive board. "Lately, he has been almost all the time in Plattsburg.He is secretary to Margery's father. It is a position of considerableresponsibility, and we are very proud of him."

  I had expected something of the sort, but the remainder of the meal hadsomehow lost its savor. There was a lull in the conversation whiledessert was being brought in. Miss Jane sat quivering, watching hersister's face for signs of trouble; the latter had subsided intomuttered grumbling, and Miss Fleming sat, one hand on the table, staringabsently at her engagement ring.

  "You look like a fool in that cap, Jane," volunteered Letitia, while theplates were being brought in. "What's for dessert?"

  "Ice-cream," called Miss Jane, over the table.

  "Well, you needn't," snapped Letitia, "I can hear you well enough. Youtold me it was junket."

  "I said ice-cream, and you said it would be all right," poor Janeshrieked. "If you drink a cup of hot water after it, it won't hurt you."

  "Fiddle," Letitia snapped unpleasantly. "I'm not going to freeze mystomach and then thaw it out like a drain pipe. Tell Heppie to put myice-cream on the stove."

  So we waited until Miss Letitia's had been heated, and was brought in,sicklied over with pale hues, not of thought, but of confectioners'dyes. Miss Letitia ate it resignedly. "Like as not I'll break out, Idid the last time," she said gloomily. "I only hope I don't break out incolors."

  The meal was over finally, but if I had hoped for another word alonewith Margery Fleming that evening, I was foredoomed to disappointment.Letitia sent the girl, not ungently, to bed, and ordered Jane out of theroom with a single curt gesture toward the door.

  "You'd better wash those cups yourself, Jane," she said. "I don't seeany sense anyhow in getting out the best china unless there's realcompany. Besides, I'm going to talk business."

  Poor, meek, spiritless Miss Jane! The situation was absurd in spite ofits pathos. She confided to me once that never in her sixty-five yearsof life had she bought herself a gown, or chosen the dinner. She wassnubbed with painstaking perseverance, and sent out of the room whensubjects requiring frank handling were under discussion. She was asunsophisticated as a child of ten, as unworldly as a baby, as--well,poor Miss Jane, again.

  When the door had closed behind her, Miss Letitia listened for a moment,got up suddenly and crossing the room with amazing swiftness for heryears, pounced on the knob and threw it open again. But the passage wasempty; Miss Jane's slim little figure was disappearing into the kitchen.The older sister watched her out of sight, and then returned to her sofawithout deigning explanation.

  "I didn't want to see you about the will, Mr. Knox," she began withoutprelude. "The will can wait. I ain't going to die just yet--not if Iknow anything. But although I think you'd look a heap better and moreresponsible if you wore some hair on your face, still in most things Ithink you're a man of sense. And you're not too young. That's why Ididn't send for Harry Wardrop; he's too young."

  I winced at that. Miss Letitia leaned forward and put her bony hand onmy knee.

  "I've been robbed," she announced in a half whisper, and straightened towatch the effect of her words.

  "Indeed!" I said, properly thunderstruck. I _was_ surprised. I hadalways believed that only the use of the fourth dimension in space wouldenable any one, not desired, to gain access to the Maitland house. "Ofmoney?"

  "Not money, although I had a good bit in the house." This also I knew.It was said of Miss Letitia that when money came into her possession itwent out of circulation.

  "Not--the pearls?" I asked.

  She answered my question with another.

  "When you had those pearls appraised for me at the jewelers last year,how many were there?"

  "Not quite one hundred. I think--yes, ninety-eight."

  "Exactly," she corroborated, in triumph. "They belonged to my mother.Margery's mother got some of them. That's a good many years ago, youngman. They are worth more than they were then--a great deal more."

  "Twenty-two thousand dollars," I repeated. "You remember, Miss Letitia,that I protested vigorously at the time against your keeping them in thehouse."

  Miss Letitia ignored this, but before she went on she repeated again hercat-like pouncing at the door, only to find the hall empty as before.This time when she sat down it was knee to knee with me.

  "Yesterday morning," she said gravely, "I got down the box; they havealways been kept in the small safe in the top of my closet. When Janefound a picture of my niece, Margery Fleming, in Harry's room, I thoughtit likely there was some truth in the gossip Jane heard about the two,and--if there was going to be a wedding--why, the pearls were to go toMargery anyhow. But--I found the door of the safe unlocked and a littlebit open--and ten of the pearls were gone!"

  "Gone!" I echoed. "Ten of them! Why, it's ridiculous! If ten, why notthe whole ninety-eight?"

  "How do I know?" she replied with asperity. "That's what I keep a lawyerfor: that's why I sent for you."

  For the second time in two days I protested the same thing.

  "But you need a detective," I cried. "If you can find the thief I willbe glad to send him where he ought to be, but I couldn't find him."

  "I will not have the police," she persisted inflexibly. "They will comearound asking impertinent questions, and telling the newspapers that afoolish old woman had got what she deserved."

  "Then you are going to send them to a bank?"

  "You have less sense than I thought," she snapped. "I am going to leavethem where they are, and watch. Whoever took the ten will be back formore, mark my words."
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  "I don't advise it," I said decidedly. "You have most of them now, andyou might easily lose them all; not only that, but it is not safe foryou or your sister."

  "Stuff and nonsense!" the old lady said, with spirit. "As for Jane, shedoesn't even know they are gone. I know who did it. It was the newhousemaid, Bella MacKenzie. Nobody else could get in. I lock up thehouse myself at night, and I'm in the habit of doing a pretty thoroughjob of it. They went in the last three weeks, for I counted themSaturday three weeks ago myself. The only persons in the house in thattime, except ourselves, were Harry, Bella and Hepsibah, who's been herefor forty years and wouldn't know a pearl from a pickled onion."

  "Then--what do you want me to do?" I asked. "Have Bella arrested and hertrunk searched?"

  I felt myself shrinking in the old lady's esteem every minute.

  "Her trunk!" she said scornfully. "I turned it inside out this morning,pretending I thought she was stealing the laundry soap. Like as not shehas them buried in the vegetable garden. What I want you to do is tostay here for three or four nights, to be on hand. When I catch thethief, I want my lawyer right by."

  It ended by my consenting, of course. Miss Letitia was seldom refused. Itelephoned to Fred that I would not be home, listened for voices anddecided Margery Fleming had gone to bed. Miss Jane lighted me to thedoor of the guest room, and saw that everything was comfortable. Herthin gray curls bobbed as she examined the water pitcher, saw to thetowels, and felt the bed linen for dampness. At the door she stopped andturned around timidly.

  "Has--has anything happened to disturb my sister?" she asked. "She--hasbeen almost irritable all day."

  Almost!

  "She is worried about her colored orphans," I evaded. "She does notapprove of fireworks for them on the fourth of July."

  Miss Jane was satisfied. I watched her little, old, black-robed figurego lightly down the hall. Then I bolted the door, opened all thewindows, and proceeded to a surreptitious smoke.