Kitabı oku: «Miss Maitland, Private Secretary», sayfa 17
"When I reached the room I found her in a state of hysterical terror – she said the house was watched. Peeping out through the coarse lace curtains that veiled the window, she had several times noticed a man lounging about the corner. At first she had thought nothing of him, but the day before he had reappeared, and stayed about the block most of the afternoon covertly watching the entrance and the upper floor. I was nearly as frightened as she was – the thing was only too probable. There was no difficulty in getting her to go with the hospital ship. She had only stayed on in the hope of seeing me and having me tell her what to do.
"I gave her the money and told her to wait until nightfall and then slip out and go to the Rychlovskys. They had promised to help her in any way they could, and with Bébita waiting in the cab, I couldn't go with her. It was a simply hideous position to have to leave her that way. But it was all I could think of – it came so unexpectedly I was stunned by it.
"When I reached the bookbindery the taxi was gone! Can you imagine what I felt? I told the truth when I said my first thought was that Bébita might have played a joke on me. I did think that, for my mind, confused and crowded with deadly fears, could not take in a new catastrophe. Then, when I saw Mrs. Price and realized that the child had mysteriously disappeared, while with me, while in mycharge – I – well, I hope I'll never have to live over moments like those again. I had to keep one fact before my mind – to be quiet, to be cool, not to do or say anything that might betray Florry. If I'd known what you suspected, I couldn't have done it. But, of course, I hadn't any idea then you thought I was implicated.
"Florry had told me she would communicate with Mr. Price and he would give me word of her. The telephone message that Miss Rogers tapped was that word; all I received. It relieved me immensely, I began to feel the dreadful strain relaxing, I began to think we were on the high road to safety. And then came that day here in the office. Shall I ever forget it!"
She turned to Mrs. Janney:
"If I had had the least idea of what was going to be done here, I would have tried to get to you and have thrown myself on your mercy. But I was completely unsuspecting and unprepared, and with Mr. Whitney as the judge, representing the law, I did not dare to tell the truth, I hadto lie.
"As you saw, I lied as well as I could, puzzled at first, not knowing what you were getting at, to what point it was all leading. Then, when you caught me with the tapped message, I saw – I guessed how circumstances had woven a net about me. I realized there was nothing to be done but let you believe it, let you do what you wanted with me. You couldn't make me speak, and if I could stay silent till Florry was in Europe, hidden, lost in the chaos of a country at war, it would be all right."
She swept their faces with a glance, half pleading, half triumphant.
"She is there now – this morning Mr. Price had a cable from her. I have told this to Mr. Whitney as well as the rest because I have thought – shut up in O'Malley's flat I had much time for thinking things out straight and clear – that after my explanation, no one would want, no one would dare, to bring that unfortunate girl back here to face a criminal charge. She has had her lesson, she will never forget it, the man she wounded is back on the force as good as ever. No human being with a conscience and a heart – " she looked at Whitney – "and you have both – could want to make her pay more bitterly than she has. She is safe, under intelligent supervision. She can work, be useful, where her youth and strength and enthusiasm are needed. I did not trust you before, Mr. Whitney, but I do now and I know that my trust is not misplaced."
A murmur, a concerted sound of agreement, came from her listeners. Whitney, pushing his chair back from the desk, said gravely:
"You can rest assured, Miss Maitland, that the matter will die here with us to-day. As you say, your sister has had her punishment. She will stay in France of course?"
"Yes, make her home there, I think. When Mr. Price is free he is to go over and marry her. He intends to sell his business out and offer his services to the French government."
There was a moment of silence, then Mrs. Janney spoke, clearing her throat, her face flushed with feeling:
"As you've said, Miss Maitland, none of this would have happened if you'd seen fit to come to me. But it's no use going over that now – we've all made mistakes and we're all sorry. What we – the Janneys – want to do is to be fair, to be just, and now – if it is not too late – to make amends. The only way you can show your willingness to forget and forgive, is to come back at once to Grasslands and take things up where you left them."
The girl for a moment did not answer, her face reddening with a sudden embarrassment. Mrs. Janney saw the blush, read it as reluctance and exclaimed:
"Oh, Miss Maitland, don't say you refuse. It's as if you wouldn't take my hand held out in apology, in friendship."
"No, no" – Esther was obviously distressed – "don't think that, Mrs. Janney, it's not that. It's that I can't – I've – I've made another engagement – I'm going to marry Mr. Ferguson."
CHAPTER XXX – MOLLY'S STORY
It's my place to finish, tell the end of the story and straighten it all out. Some of it's been cleared up clean, with the people on the spot to give the evidence, some of it we had to work out from what we knew and what we guessed. Willitts, who was a gamy guy, told his tale from start to finish, and loved doing it, they said, like an actor who'd rather be dead in the spotlight than alive in the wings. Larkin's part we had to put together from what we could get from Bébita and what Mrs. Price gave up.
Bébita, the way children do, saw plain and could tell what she saw as accurate as a phonograph. It made tears come to hear the dear little thing, so sweet and innocent, making us see that even the crooks she was with couldn't help but love her.
When Miss Maitland got out of the taxi at the bookbindery the driver told the child that he knew her Daddy and could take her round to see him while Miss Maitland was in the store. He said it wouldn't take long, that Mr. Price was close by, and they would come back in a few minutes and pick up Miss Maitland. Bébita was crazy to go, and he started, giving her a box of chocolates to eat on the way. Of course she never could tell where he went but it could not have been a long distance, or Larkin – we all were agreed that he drove the cab – couldn't have reached the Fifth Avenue house as soon as he did. The place was evidently a flat over a garage. He told her her father was waiting there, went upstairs with her, and gave her in charge of a woman called Marion who opened the door for them.
During the whole time she was gone she stayed here with Marion, who every morning assured her her Daddy would come that day. She said Marion was very good to her, gave her toys and candies, cooked her meals and played games with her. She cried often and was homesick, and Marion never scolded her but used to take her in her arms and kiss her and tell her stories. She never saw the man again until he came to take her away, but sometimes the bell rang and Marion went out on the stairs and talked to some one.
One evening Marion said she was going home; it would be a long drive and she must be a good girl. Marion dressed her and then gave her a glass of milk, and kissed her a great many times and cried. Bébita cried too, for she was sorry to leave Marion, but she wanted to go home. After that the man came and took her downstairs to the taxi and told her to be very quiet and she'd soon be back at Grasslands. It was dark and they went through the city and then she got very sleepy and laid down on the seat.
No trace of Marion, Larkin's confederate, could be found, and in fact no especial effort was made to do so. The man was dead, the woman, who had evidently treated the child with affectionate care, had fled into the darkness where she belonged. The family, even Mrs. Janney, was contented to let things drop and make an end.
When it came to Larkin we had to piece out a good deal. We agreed that he had started in fair and honest, had tried to make good and had failed. At just what point he changed we couldn't be sure, but Ferguson thought it was after Mrs. Price threatened to end the investigation. Then he realized that his big chance was slipping by, determined to get something out of it, and hit on the kidnaping. It was easy to see how he could worm all the data he wanted out of Mrs. Price. From what she said he'd evidently pumped her at their last meeting in town, finding out just what her plans were, even to the fact that she intended taking the extra cab from the rank round the corner. I thought that one thing might have given him the whole idea.
When they stopped at the book bindery he heard Miss Maitland tell Bébita she would be gone a few minutes and knew that was his opportunity. He took the child to the place he had ready for her, made a quick change – not more than the shedding of his coat, cap and goggles – and ran his car into the garage below, which of course he must have rented. Then he lit out for the Fifth Avenue house, a bit late but ready to report in case Miss Maitland didn't show up before him. Miss Maitland did – he must have seen her go in – but he rang just the same, which showed what a cunning devil he was.
He must have been surprised when he didn't see anything in the papers, but after he'd written the first "Clansmen" letter to Mrs. Price she explained that and it made it smoother sailing for him. Knowing her as well as he did, he planned the letters to scare her into silence, and saw before he was through he had her exactly in the state he wanted. The one place where his plot was weak was that an outsider had to drive the rescue car. But he had to take a chance somewhere, and this was the best place. He'd fixed it so neat that even if the outsider had informed on him, he'd have been wary, and, as Ferguson thought, not shown up at all.
He'd done it well; as well, we all agreed, as it could be done. What had beaten him had been no man's cleverness, just something that neither he, nor you, nor any of us could have foreseen. Ain't there a proverb about the best laid plans of mice and men slipping up when you least expect it? It was like the hand of something, that reached out sudden and came down hard, laid him dead in the moment when the goal was in sight.
As to Willitts, he was some boy! They found out that he was wanted in England, well-known there as an expert safe-cracker and notorious jewel thief. That's where he's gone, to live in a quiet little cell which will be his home from this time forth. He said he hadn't been in New York long before he heard of the Janney jewels and went into Mr. Price's service. But he couldn't do anything while the family were in town. The safe was right off the pantry – too many people about – and anyway it was a new one, the finest kind, that would have baffled even his skill. He would have left discouraged but one day Dixon let drop that the safe at Grasslands was old-fashioned, put in years before by the former owners, so he stayed on devoted and faithful.
At Grasslands he had lots of time to try his hand on the ancient contraption in the passage. He worked on it until he found the combination and then he lay low for his opportunity. When the row came and Mr. Price left, he stayed on with him. It was the best thing to do as he could run in and out from Cedar Brook seeing the servants, with whom he was careful to be friendly.
Before this he'd got wise to the fact that something was up between Miss Maitland and Mr. Price. He said it was his business to snoop and his profession had got him into the way of doing it instinctive, but I'd set it down as coming natural. Anyway he'd found out that there was a secret between them; he'd surprise them murmuring in the hallways and the library, quieting down quick if any one came along. He made the same mistake as the rest of us, thought it was an affair of the heart and grew mighty curious about it. He didn't explain why he was interested, but if you asked me I'd say he had blackmail in the back of his head.
On the afternoon of July the seventh he biked down from Cedar Brook to take a look round and see how things were progressing. Familiar with the ways of the house, he knew the family would be out and stole round past Miss Maitland's study. No one was there, and, curious as he was, he slipped in to do a little spying – Miss Maitland and Mr. Price separated would be writing to each other and a letter might throw some light on the darkness.
He rummaged about among the papers but found nothing. Scattered over the desk were bits of the trimming Miss Maitland had been sewing on; a pile of the little rosebuds was lying on the top of her work basket. Reaching over toward a bunch of letters he upset the basket, and, scared, he swept up the contents with his handkerchief, putting them back as quick as he could. This was the way he explained the presence of the rose in the safe. He was shocked at any one thinking that he had tried to throw suspicion on such a fine young lady. That night, taking the jewels, hot and nervous, his glasses had blurred the way they do when your face perspires. He had whisked out his handkerchief to wipe them, and no doubt a rosebud lodged in the folds had fallen to the ground. Mr. Ferguson didn't believe this – he thought the rose was a plant – but I did. It was one of those queer, unexpected things that will happen and that, for me, always puts a crimp in circumstantial evidence.
After that he went round to the kitchen and heard of the general sortie for that evening. Then he knew the time had come. He biked back to Cedar Brook, saw Mr. Price, and went to his lodgings. Here he found his landlady's child sick with croup and offered to go for the doctor, whose house was not far from Berkeley. It fitted in just right, for if there was any inquiry into his movements he could furnish a good reason why he was late at the movies. Before he got to Grasslands he hid his wheel by the roadside and took a short cut through the woods, lying low on the edge of them until he saw the kitchen lights go out. Crossing the lawn, the dogs ran at him barking, then got his scent and quieted down. At the balcony he slipped off his rain coat, put on sneakers, unlocked the front door with Mr. Price's key, and crept in. The job didn't take him ten minutes; just as he finished he saw the box of Mr. Janney's cigars and helped himself to one. He rubbed off his finger prints with an acid used for that purpose, left the broken chair just where it was and departed.
In the woods he lit the cigar, carelessly throwing the band on the ground. Fifteen minutes later he was at the movies with the Grasslands help. When he saw in the papers that a light had been seen by the safe at one-thirty every fear he had died, for at that time he was back at Cedar Brook helping his landlady look after the sick child.
He was too smart a crook to disappear right on top of the robbery, and hung around saying he was looking for another place. He met up with Larkin but at first didn't know he was a detective. When the offer came from Ferguson he took it, intending to stay a while, then say his folks in the old country needed him and slip away to Spain. It was the day after he'd accepted Ferguson's offer that he learned what Larkin was, and saw that both he and the Janneys had their suspicions of Chapman Price. This disturbed him, but he couldn't throw up the job he'd just taken without exciting remark. To be ready, however, he dug up the jewels – he'd buried them in the woods – and put them handy under the flooring of his room.
One day, looking over Ferguson's things, he came on the cigar band in the box on the bureau. It gave him a jar, for he couldn't see why it was put there. He'd heard from the servants about Ferguson and Miss Maitland walking home that night through the woods and began to wonder if maybe they'd found the band. The thought ruffled him up considerably, and then he put it out of his mind, telling himself it was one from a cigar Ferguson had brought from Grasslands and smoked in his room. Nevertheless, to be on the safe side, he threw it away, very much on the alert, as you may guess.
It wasn't a week later that he had the interview with Ferguson about the band. Then he saw by the young man's manner and words why the little crushed circle of paper had a meaning of its own, and knew that the time had come to vanish. He still felt safe enough to do this without haste, not rousing any suspicion by a too sudden departure. His opportunity came quickly – on Friday morning he heard Ferguson tell the butler that he was going to town and would be away for a day or two; by the time he came back his valet would be far afield.
Right after Ferguson's departure he put the jewels in a bag, and, telling the butler the boss had given him the day and night off, prepared to leave. He was crossing the hall when the telephone rang – my message – and being wary of danger, answered it. It was only a lady asking for Mr. Ferguson, and, calm and steady as his voice had made me, started out for the station. Mice and men again! – I was the mouse this time. Gracious, what a battered mouse I was!
Well – that's all. The tangled threads are straightened out and the word "End" goes at the bottom of this page. I'm glad to write it, glad to be once again where you can say what you think, and talk to people like they were harmless human beings without any dark secrets in their pasts or presents, and, Oh, Gee, how glad I am to be home! Back in my own little hole, back where there's only one servant and she a coon, back where I'm familiar with the food and know how to eat it, and blessedest of all, back to my own true husband, who thinks there's no sun or moon or stars when I'm out of the house. I'm going to get a new rug for the parlor, a fur-trimmed winter suit, a standing lamp with a Chinese shade, a pair of skates – oh, dear, I'm at the bottom of the page and there's no room for "End," but I must squeeze in that I got that reward – Mrs. Janney said I'd earned every penny of it – and a wrist watch with a circle of diamonds round it from Dick Ferguson, and – oh, pshaw! if I keep on I'll never stop, so here goes, on a separate line
