The Circular Staircase

by Mary Roberts Rinehart

  CHAPTER XII

  ONE MYSTERY FOR ANOTHER

  The most commonplace incident takes on a new appearance if theattendant circumstances are unusual. There was no reason on earth whyMrs. Watson should not have carried a blanket down the east wingstaircase, if she so desired. But to take a blanket down at eleveno'clock at night, with every precaution as to noise, and, whendiscovered, to fling it at Halsey and bolt--Halsey's word, and a goodone--into the grounds,--this made the incident more than significant.

  They moved slowly across the lawn and up the steps. Halsey was talkingquietly, and Mrs. Watson was looking down and listening. She was awoman of a certain amount of dignity, most efficient, so far as I couldsee, although Liddy would have found fault if she dared. But just nowMrs. Watson's face was an enigma. She was defiant, I think, under hermask of submission, and she still showed the effect of nervous shock.

  "Mrs. Watson," I said severely, "will you be so good as to explain thisrather unusual occurrence?"

  "I don't think it so unusual, Miss Innes." Her voice was deep and veryclear: just now it was somewhat tremulous. "I was taking a blanketdown to Thomas, who is--not well to-night, and I used this staircase,as being nearer the path to the lodge. When--Mr. Innes called and thenrushed at me, I--I was alarmed, and flung the blanket at him."

  Halsey was examining the cut on his forehead in a small mirror on thewall. It was not much of an injury, but it had bled freely, and hisappearance was rather terrifying.

  "Thomas ill?" he said, over his shoulder. "Why, _I_ thought I sawThomas out there as you made that cyclonic break out of the door andover the porch."

  I could see that under pretense of examining his injury he was watchingher through the mirror.

  "Is this one of the servants' blankets, Mrs. Watson?" I asked, holdingup its luxurious folds to the light.

  "Everything else is locked away," she replied. Which was true enough,no doubt. I had rented the house without bed furnishings.

  "If Thomas is ill," Halsey said, "some member of the family ought to godown to see him. You needn't bother, Mrs. Watson. I will take theblanket."

  She drew herself up quickly, as if in protest, but she found nothing tosay. She stood smoothing the folds of her dead black dress, her faceas white as chalk above it. Then she seemed to make up her mind.

  "Very well, Mr. Innes," she said. "Perhaps you would better go. I havedone all I could."

  And then she turned and went up the circular staircase, moving slowlyand with a certain dignity. Below, the three of us stared at oneanother across the intervening white blanket.

  "Upon my word," Halsey broke out, "this place is a walking nightmare.I have the feeling that we three outsiders who have paid our money forthe privilege of staying in this spook-factory, are living on the verytop of things. We're on the lid, so to speak. Now and then we get asight of the things inside, but we are not a part of them."

  "Do you suppose," Gertrude asked doubtfully, "that she really meantthat blanket for Thomas?"

  "Thomas was standing beside that magnolia tree," Halsey replied, "whenI ran after Mrs. Watson. It's down to this, Aunt Ray. Rosie's basketand Mrs. Watson's blanket can only mean one thing: there is somebodyhiding or being hidden in the lodge. It wouldn't surprise me if wehold the key to the whole situation now. Anyhow, I'm going to thelodge to investigate."

  Gertrude wanted to go, too, but she looked so shaken that I insistedshe should not. I sent for Liddy to help her to bed, and then Halseyand I started for the lodge. The grass was heavy with dew, and,man-like, Halsey chose the shortest way across the lawn. Half-way,however, he stopped.

  "We'd better go by the drive," he said. "This isn't a lawn; it's afield. Where's the gardener these days?"

  "There isn't any," I said meekly. "We have been thankful enough, sofar, to have our meals prepared and served and the beds aired. Thegardener who belongs here is working at the club."

  "Remind me to-morrow to send out a man from town," he said. "I knowthe very fellow."

  I record this scrap of conversation, just as I have tried to put downanything and everything that had a bearing on what followed, becausethe gardener Halsey sent the next day played an important part in theevents of the next few weeks--events that culminated, as you know, bystirring the country profoundly. At that time, however, I was busytrying to keep my skirts dry, and paid little or no attention to whatseemed then a most trivial remark.

  Along the drive I showed Halsey where I had found Rosie's basket withthe bits of broken china piled inside. He was rather skeptical.

  "Warner probably," he said when I had finished. "Began it as a joke onRosie, and ended by picking up the broken china out of the road,knowing it would play hob with the tires of the car." Which shows hownear one can come to the truth, and yet miss it altogether.

  At the lodge everything was quiet. There was a light in thesitting-room down-stairs, and a faint gleam, as if from a shaded lamp,in one of the upper rooms. Halsey stopped and examined the lodge withcalculating eyes.

  "I don't know, Aunt Ray," he said dubiously; "this is hardly a woman'saffair. If there's a scrap of any kind, you hike for the timber."Which was Halsey's solicitous care for me, put into vernacular.

  "I shall stay right here," I said, and crossing the small veranda, nowshaded and fragrant with honeysuckle, I hammered the knocker on thedoor.

  Thomas opened the door himself--Thomas, fully dressed and in hiscustomary health. I had the blanket over my arm.

  "I brought the blanket, Thomas," I said; "I am sorry you are so ill."

  The old man stood staring at me and then at the blanket. His confusionunder other circumstances would have been ludicrous.

  "What! Not ill?" Halsey said from the step. "Thomas, I'm afraidyou've been malingering."

  Thomas seemed to have been debating something with himself. Now hestepped out on the porch and closed the door gently behind him.

  "I reckon you bettah come in, Mis' Innes," he said, speakingcautiously. "It's got so I dunno what to do, and it's boun' to comeout some time er ruther."

  He threw the door open then, and I stepped inside, Halsey close behind.In the sitting-room the old negro turned with quiet dignity to Halsey.

  "You bettah sit down, sah," he said. "It's a place for a woman, sah."

  Things were not turning out the way Halsey expected. He sat down onthe center-table, with his hands thrust in his pockets, and watched meas I followed Thomas up the narrow stairs. At the top a woman wasstanding, and a second glance showed me it was Rosie.

  She shrank back a little, but I said nothing. And then Thomas motionedto a partly open door, and I went in.

  The lodge boasted three bedrooms up-stairs, all comfortably furnished.In this one, the largest and airiest, a night lamp was burning, and byits light I could make out a plain white metal bed. A girl was asleepthere--or in a half stupor, for she muttered something now and then.Rosie had taken her courage in her hands, and coming in had turned upthe light. It was only then that I knew. Fever-flushed, ill as shewas, I recognized Louise Armstrong.

  I stood gazing down at her in a stupor of amazement. Louise here,hiding at the lodge, ill and alone! Rosie came up to the bed andsmoothed the white counterpane.

  "I am afraid she is worse to-night," she ventured at last. I put myhand on the sick girl's forehead. It was burning with fever, and Iturned to where Thomas lingered in the hallway.

  "Will you tell me what you mean, Thomas Johnson, by not telling me thisbefore?" I demanded indignantly.

  Thomas quailed.

  "Mis' Louise wouldn' let me," he said earnestly. "I wanted to. Sheought to 'a' had a doctor the night she came, but she wouldn' hear toit. Is she--is she very bad, Mis' Innes?"

  "Bad enough," I said coldly. "Send Mr. Innes up."

  Halsey came up the stairs slowly, looking rather interested andinclined to be amused. For a moment he could not see anythingdistinctly in the darkened room; he stopped, glanced at Rosie and atme, and then his eye
s fell on the restless head on the pillow.

  I think he felt who it was before he really saw her; he crossed theroom in a couple of strides and bent over the bed.

  "Louise!" he said softly; but she did not reply, and her eyes showed norecognition. Halsey was young, and illness was new to him. Hestraightened himself slowly, still watching her, and caught my arm.

  "She's dying, Aunt Ray!" he said huskily. "Dying! Why, she doesn'tknow me!"

  "Fudge!" I snapped, being apt to grow irritable when my sympathies arearoused. "She's doing nothing of the sort,--and don't pinch my arm.If you want something to do, go and choke Thomas."

  But at that moment Louise roused from her stupor to cough, and at theend of the paroxysm, as Rosie laid her back, exhausted, she knew us.That was all Halsey wanted; to him consciousness was recovery. Hedropped on his knees beside the bed, and tried to tell her she was allright, and we would bring her around in a hurry, and how beautiful shelooked--only to break down utterly and have to stop. And at that Icame to my senses, and put him out.

  "This instant!" I ordered, as he hesitated. "And send Rosie here."

  He did not go far. He sat on the top step of the stairs, only leavingto telephone for a doctor, and getting in everybody's way in hiseagerness to fetch and carry. I got him away finally, by sending himto fix up the car as a sort of ambulance, in case the doctor wouldallow the sick girl to be moved. He sent Gertrude down to the lodgeloaded with all manner of impossible things, including an armful ofTurkish towels and a box of mustard plasters, and as the two girls hadknown each other somewhat before, Louise brightened perceptibly whenshe saw her.

  When the doctor from Englewood--the Casanova doctor, Doctor Walker,being away--had started for Sunnyside, and I had got Thomas to stoptrying to explain what he did not understand himself, I had a long talkwith the old man, and this is what I learned.

  On Saturday evening before, about ten o'clock, he had been reading inthe sitting-room down-stairs, when some one rapped at the door. Theold man was alone, Warner not having arrived, and at first he wasuncertain about opening the door. He did so finally, and was amazed atbeing confronted by Louise Armstrong. Thomas was an old family servant,having been with the present Mrs. Armstrong since she was a child, andhe was overwhelmed at seeing Louise. He saw that she was excited andtired, and he drew her into the sitting-room and made her sit down.After a while he went to the house and brought Mrs. Watson, and theytalked until late. The old man said Louise was in trouble, and seemedfrightened. Mrs. Watson made some tea and took it to the lodge, butLouise made them both promise to keep her presence a secret. She hadnot known that Sunnyside was rented, and whatever her trouble was, thiscomplicated things. She seemed puzzled. Her stepfather and her motherwere still in California--that was all she would say about them. Whyshe had run away no one could imagine. Mr. Arnold Armstrong was at theGreenwood Club, and at last Thomas, not knowing what else to do, wentover there along the path. It was almost midnight. Part-way over hemet Armstrong himself and brought him to the lodge. Mrs. Watson hadgone to the house for some bed-linen, it having been arranged thatunder the circumstances Louise would be better at the lodge untilmorning. Arnold Armstrong and Louise had a long conference, duringwhich he was heard to storm and become very violent. When he left itwas after two. He had gone up to the house--Thomas did not knowwhy--and at three o'clock he was shot at the foot of the circularstaircase.

  The following morning Louise had been ill. She had asked for Arnold,and was told he had left town. Thomas had not the moral courage totell her of the crime. She refused a doctor, and shrank morbidly fromhaving her presence known. Mrs. Watson and Thomas had had their handsfull, and at last Rosie had been enlisted to help them. She carriednecessary provisions--little enough--to the lodge, and helped to keepthe secret.

  Thomas told me quite frankly that he had been anxious to keep Louise'spresence hidden for this reason: they had all seen Arnold Armstrongthat night, and he, himself, for one, was known to have had no veryfriendly feeling for the dead man. As to the reason for Louise'sflight from California, or why she had not gone to the Fitzhughs', orto some of her people in town, he had no more information than I had.With the death of her stepfather and the prospect of the immediatereturn of the family, things had become more and more impossible. Igathered that Thomas was as relieved as I at the turn events had taken.No, she did not know of either of the deaths in the family.

  Taken all around, I had only substituted one mystery for another.

  If I knew now why Rosie had taken the basket of dishes, I did not knowwho had spoken to her and followed her along the drive. If I knew thatLouise was in the lodge, I did not know why she was there. If I knewthat Arnold Armstrong had spent some time in the lodge the night beforehe was murdered, I was no nearer the solution of the crime. Who wasthe midnight intruder who had so alarmed Liddy and myself? Who hadfallen down the clothes chute? Was Gertrude's lover a villain or avictim? Time was to answer all these things.