Fitz said, “You rode your jumper; you took him back ways, while Wat came to Duval Hall and got Camilla and took her to my place. So as to avoid the gate near the stables you took your horse over the paddock fence and left him there; then you reached the house by way of the garden and Ernestine was there …”
“And she had a gun” Ruby said as if conventions, but merely conventions, had been outraged. “Think of that!”
Again confused voices began and stopped. Fitz said, “What did she do with it?”
“She said I needn’t threaten her; she said she wasn’t afraid of me. She said if I was hysterical and tried to hurt her she’d really shoot. She said she’d never give him up and that I’d be lucky if she didn’t marry him right away, but she said if I was sensible—sensible,” cried Ruby in a snort as cynical as Wilkins’ best, “if I was sensible I’d make a division of property with Wat. Then she’d go away; she’d divorce Jed some time, not soon, and after some time had passed, long enough for people to think I was the one who’d left Wat, not that he’d left me on account of Ernestine, then—maybe—she and Wat would marry. It was that really that I just couldn’t stand,” added Ruby simply, “Ernestine acting as if she’d marry Wat when she got good and ready, just as if she could have Wat any minute …” She looked at Wat, said, “It would have broken my heart,” and began to cry again.
Wat patted her shoulder and murmured. Woody paced the floor; Sue started toward Ruby whose distress was overwhelming, like a mountain flood, and painfully genuine and tragic and Wilkins finally rubbed his forehead in a rather frenzied way and said, “This doesn’t change things, Henley. My advice is to execute your warrant, get our business over with.”
“You can’t arrest Sue,” cried Woody, wheeling around. “Fitz—stop them …”
Jed said from the porch, “Unlatch the window, Woody.”
He’d heard, of course; Henley whirled around, swearing. Woody unlatched the window and Jed stepped over the low sill.
Wilkins stared at Jed, turned to Henley and snapped, “Arrest that girl and get it over with before the whole damned hunt is in here making a fuss.”
“I shot Ernestine. Sue didn’t. If you so much as put your finger on her—I shot Ernestine,” Jed said, his head high and arrogant.
Henley shouted, “You can’t do that. You’ve been acquitted.”
“Chivalry,” snorted Wilkins. “Let’s get the girl out of here.”
And Ruby wailed, “I didn’t do it. I had my cigarette case, the doctor gave it to me for my birthday so he knew it was mine. And I tried to be cool and calm, I did, Wat. I took out a cigarette and—but then I put the case down there on the table in the garden room and forgot it and he saw it and of course he knew it was mine. And then I never knew what happened to it. I kept waiting for somebody to find it and the police to question me. All winter—but he’d found it himself and taken it to protect me and Wat. And then I think Ernestine, before she died, told him that I’d been there. And told him why and what I’d said so he thought I’d shot her but I didn’t. I didn’t—I didn’t … And then he was shot—Dr. Luddington—and there was that awful cigarette case right on his desk. I lost my head. I didn’t know what had happened, or who knew about it, and the police were at the door and I didn’t know what to do so I hid it and then I was afraid to go back for it, but I didn’t kill him—I didn’t …”
Fitz said in an aside to Woody, “Bolt the door.”
Woody moved to bolt the door and then, with a glance at Fitz, swiftly to the window but he was too late; Camilla in a flutter of yellow was already stepping hurriedly into the room. She looked at Sue and Fitz who stood together, turned to Captain Henley and said, her eyes cold but her voice shaken with anger, “There is something it is my duty to tell you.”
23
THE ORCHESTRA changed to the light gay rhythm of a waltz; it brought with it a flashing picture of the dancers, the mingled colors of swinging skirts and scarlet and black jackets. Someone passed along the corridor outside, a girl and a man; they could hear his murmured voice and her high, light laughter. Then everybody spoke at once.
Jed said, “If you mean that quarrel with Ernestine, I’ll tell it myself. It can’t damage Sue or me now.”
Wat said, “Ruby, darling, of course you didn’t kill him.”
Henley shouted something angrily at Jed. Wilkins got up and said, “Serve your warrant, Henley.”
Fitz said to Ruby, “Is that why you sold your hunter?” And Woody had a gun in his hand. Sue thought fantastically, “Fitz passed it to him. When he went to bolt the door. I knew when his arm moved, when Woody paused just for a second behind me.”
Ruby answered Fitz, sobbing, “Of course, that’s why. There wasn’t another horse in the county, at least not many, that could take that fence near the house. I was terrified for fear somebody would think of it—but I didn’t do it …”
Wat said, “Nobody says you did, Ruby.” His hatchet face glistening with sweat.
Jed strode up to Henley, “You’ve got to listen to me …”
“Chivalry,” snorted Wilkins again. Henley, whose red face was glistening too, turned to Sue, “Now then, Miss Poore …”
Jed’s voice rose above the others. “… I tell you I shot her. I’ll tell you exactly how. I—didn’t mean to. It was the gun. I—I left Sue in the cabaña; I didn’t go down the driveway at all. I went into the house and I was going to have it out with Ernestine then and there. We’d had a row just before Sue came. I imagine Camilla heard it but she never told anybody if she did. It …”
Camilla had had time already to regret. She cried, “Oh, no, Jed, I didn’t mean—I went too far—I take it back …”
“No, that’s the truth; Ernestine said she was going to leave me and I told her I was in love with Sue and to go ahead and leave me. She said she’d have nothing like that; she’d leave me.” Jed glanced at Wat and interrupted himself in a way that sounded truthful—and reminded Sue of the sudden speculation in his face the morning Fitz had questioned him about Ernestine—“I’d guessed there was some man; I didn’t really believe her, yet—but then later I knew that if I suggested another man it would add to the case against me. But I never dreamed it was Wat.”
Camilla said with a gasp, “She never said a word! But there was something about her—only I didn’t think of Wat until—but Jed, you can’t—you mustn’t …”
Jed went on, “I changed and left to go to the club. Then I met Sue, and then after we talked, as I say, I went from the cabaña back to the house. And Ernestine had the gun.”
Ruby gave a loud gulp. Jed said, “And that really is about all. I mean it was an accident. She waved the gun at me. She was furious. Ruby wasn’t there. She must have gone by then. I didn’t even know she’d been there. But Ernestine was in a rage and when I saw the gun I tried to take it away from her and in the struggle—it went off.”
There was a heavy silence; nobody moved. It sounded so true; it was what Ernestine had said, yet there were gaps. Jed said, “You don’t believe it.”
Fitz said, “What did you do then?”
“What—well, I didn’t think I’d hurt her much, but I—got into a panic; I left. I went out the door to the garden and ran through the garden and got over the fence and around the house. I was heading for the car—oh, I know how it sounds, running away, but that’s what I was doing when—when I heard the door bang and turned and there were Sam Bronson and Sue. So I came back.” He took a breath and said, “It was an accident.”
Again it sounded true. It was exactly the way it might have happened. It was a vivid and completely whole picture, without any missing segments. Sue cried: “Oh, Jed, how can you—you were in the car—I saw you …”
Jed gave her a long deep look. Then he came to her and caught her hand. “Sue, you haven’t changed. You loved me; you still love me—you had me believing it was Fitz—I was wrong …”
Camilla sized up the situation, swiftly, and as swiftly made amends, “There you see! Capt
ain Henley, surely you’re not going to believe him! Why, he’s doing it for her. Like a true southern gentleman …”
“Like a true southern—or northern—or any kind of idiotic fool,” snapped Wilkins. “Cut this short, Henley.”
Jed said, “But it is Ernestine’s murder that you’re arresting Sue for—isn’t it? And I tell you she didn’t …”
Henley gave his chest a puff; it was an authoritative gesture which was belied by the worried look in his face. “There’s new and direct evidence against the girl for your wife’s murder.”
Fitz said, “What do you think about it, Wat?”
Wat’s white, glistening face looked anguished. “I don’t—I didn’t …”
Ruby flashed, “He doesn’t know anything about it. Except that I told him about going to see Ernestine. He knew that and of course he couldn’t tell it.”
Wilkins got up. “Why don’t you show them the letter?” he said to Henley.
That was news to Fitz. It was news to every one, apparently; Fitz said, “Letter!” and Henley unfastened one of his neat buttons and dove into his well-padded chest and pulled out a folded paper. “Don’t give it to any of them,” said Wilkins shortly.
Henley shot Wilkins a bright and rather impatient glance. “Do you think I would? I’ll read it. Listen. It begins”—and read “‘My dear child’—that’s the way it begins.”
“Well—well, read the rest of it,” said Wilkins.
“I was about to. ‘My dear child. But then you are all like children to me. Except surely no father has ever had such a terrible choice to make. I made it once. I gambled with an innocent man’s life; I perjured myself by refusing to tell the truth. I thought there’d be an acquittal; I prayed for it and there was. But now they are going to arrest Sue; this time I can’t gamble for an acquittal and win. Before she died Ernestine told me you’d been there and why; if anyone is to blame it’s my son. I found the box when I went downstairs after she died and took it. It’s unfair, it’s wrong; it must have been an accident. But I can’t sacrifice Sue, even for my son, even for his wife …’” Ruby was standing, her jeweled hands outflung, her face blazing white. Henley said, “That’s all.”
Woody cried, “That’s what he was writing! That’s what I heard—then he was shot and didn’t finish …”
“He wrote that, Dr. Luddington wrote that …” began Fitz. “It proves …”
Henley stopped them both. “That letter was written on his typewriter; but Miss Poore wrote it …”
“I didn’t—I couldn’t have …”
“Nobody else talked of any sort of box; nobody else saw such a box; it was an obvious attempt to divert suspicion …”
“But I found it,” Fitz cried. “You’ve heard the truth!”
Henley’s impetus carried him on. “… we’d heard all these stories of somebody in the stables. Somebody mysteriously frightening the horses, somebody who wanted to attract our attention so we’d search and find this letter …”
Wilkins cut it short. “It was found in the tack room, hidden but not very well hidden, in a drawer full of tins of soap and leather polish.”
His eyes peered out from under their black ambush at Fitz. “What Mrs. Luddington has said does change the interpretation of the letter. It does not clear the girl.”
Fitz said, “Dr. Luddington was not afraid of whoever it was who murdered him.”
Woody cried in a high, excited voice: “He wasn’t afraid of whoever it was there with him, hitting his boot …”
Fitz left Sue; he went in a quick stride to Wat and took him hard by the shoulder. “Tell them the truth, Wat. It’ll be on your conscience all your life …”
Wat looked at them; he moistened his thin lips. He seemed about to speak and everyone waited and then he shook his head.
Captain Henley moved impatiently. “You’re not getting anywhere, Wilson. You’ve had all the time you asked for. The story Mrs. Luddington tells does change it but”—he glanced at Wilkins and said, “the intent was the same. The girl could have guessed, she could have written it herself …”
“I didn’t …” Sue whispered and no one heard her.
Wilkins said, “Maybe though—it wouldn’t be a bad idea to question this”—he eyed Ruby and said in a grudging way—“this lady.”
Ruby gave a short scream; Wat’s face was livid. Fitz said, in a queer strained voice, “It is new evidence, Henley. Listen—suppose Lissy Jenkins’ story was true …”
“The Luddington cook?” asked Wilkins, his eyes gleaming from behind the masses of black eyebrows.
“Yes. Suppose she told the truth and suppose Dr. Luddington did write this letter and he was writing it to Ruby—because he’d tried to phone to her and couldn’t reach her. Suppose the phone call Lissy Jenkins heard was to somebody else …”
“Obviously it was,” Wilkins said shortly, “if the cook’s telling the truth.” But he eyed Fitz closely nevertheless.
Fitz went on, “Suppose the doctor wanted to take somebody into his confidence, somebody he trusted. Suppose whoever it was the doctor talked to was actually the murderer. But the doctor was talking over the phone. He couldn’t name names, be specific; consequently the general sort of terms Lissy Jenkins heard could be misunderstood. Could sound like a warning. So the murderer construed it—and came to the doctor’s house.”
“But …” began Henley.
“Look at the picture like that,” Fitz said. “If you look at it like that the figures in the picture shift around. First Dr. Luddington was mistaken.”
“Of course he was mistaken!” cried Wat in a strained, gasping voice. “He thought Ruby did it and she didn’t.”
“If whoever came to see him was the person Dr. Luddington believed shot Ernestine, would the doctor have turned his back like that and let himself be shot?”
Jed turned stubbornly to Wilkins. “I tell you I shot Ernestine. You can’t arrest Sue for it. Why won’t you listen to me …”
“Did you shoot Dr. Luddington, too?” asked Fitz, “and Bronson? Are you going to go that far?”
Jed looked angry and baffled. “Certainly not,” he cried.
Wilkins made an impatient gesture. Henley said, “Keep out of this, Baily. No jury in the world would believe you. Your motive’s too clear.”
“Well, but it’s Ernestine’s murder that you’re arresting Sue for. It’s not Dr. Luddington’s or …” Jed turned toward Fitz, his scarlet shoulders outlined against the dark window behind him. The distant waltz tune floated over them and Jed cried angrily, “Why don’t you help me, Fitz? You said this’d help …”
“Oh, so you planned this together,” snapped Henley, his eyeglasses glittering. He pulled them off with a jerk and folded up the letter. Fitz said, “Please look at it that way, Henley—Wilkins. Dr. Luddington believed that Ruby shot Ernestine. He protected Ruby at the trial because she was his son’s wife. In effect he perjured himself and that was no light and easy thing for him to do. But then, with Sue’s arrest he sees that he’s got to make—as he said there—a terrible choice. He does what he thinks is right. First he takes somebody into his confidence, he phones somebody but, in fact, actually warns that person. Then he phones Ruby to prepare her. She’s out; he starts to write a letter to give her. And in the meantime the person he phoned is scared and comes—and then only afterward reads what the doctor was writing and sees what the doctor really meant. But sees too—how valuable it could be later and—don’t you see it …”
Henley said flatly, “I see we’ve got to do our duty and arrest this girl.”
Wilkins, however, didn’t move; Fitz turned to Wat, “Tell us this, Wat—did Sam Bronson ever come to you or to Ruby and tell you he’d seen Ruby? Or you …”
Wat moistened his lips, “I parked out in the road to wait. I was going to stop Ruby. He couldn’t have seen me and if he saw Ruby he never hinted it—he never approached either of us. I’m telling you the truth, Fitz. I didn’t shoot him.”
Subtly and suddenly F
itz’s manner altered. Sue didn’t see why, but she knew when he spoke that the strain in him was a different one. He said, “Suppose, Henley—if you look at the picture this way—suppose Dr. Luddington took the wrong person into his confidence. Suppose that person came—in secret, in hunting clothes, riding because anyone would think only of a straggler from the Beaufort hunt; suppose the murderer knew that Sue was involved and believed that safety lay in involving her still further; thus the telephone call purporting to be from a patient …”
“But that,” Jed interrupted, “involved me too.” He whirled around to Wilkins. “Maybe Fitz is right. Maybe that was the intention. Sue and I were already involved—this would look as if we were both in it again.”
Fitz said, “I’m not presuming to tell you what you ought to do …”
“Oh, by no means,” observed Henley with heavy sarcasm, but he rubbed his nose worriedly all the same. Fitz went on, “But I think the sheriff would like to know about the new evidence …”
Henley looked at Wilkins who said unexpectedly, “There must be a telephone around here.”
“I’ll show you,” Fitz offered quickly. Wilkins got up and stopped beside Henley who looked red and worried. “If I were you I’d get the Luddingtons and the Duval woman, too, into the police car. The troopers can keep an eye on them …”
“Me!” screamed Camilla, her yellow skirt swishing. “Me!”
“As a witness,” added Wilkins and went to the door. Henley hesitated then he agreed. “Right. Come on this way, please …”
All of them objected and suddenly all three, with Ruby struck dumb and no longer sobbing, Camilla expostulating frantically and Wat gray and drawn as a deathshead, were out of the room. A burst of louder music came in as the door was opened. Fitz’s eyes caught Woody’s. “The telephone’s out in the kitchen hall, isn’t it?”
“Why, it’s …”
“Show us, will you?”
Woody gave a kind of jerk and followed Fitz; someone closed the door. There was a murmur of voices from behind it. Jed said, “I promised you that I wouldn’t let them arrest you, Sue, and I won’t.”
Hunt with the Hounds Page 23