Читать книгу Behind Closed Doors - Anna Katharine Green - Страница 4

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“I am getting to be an old man, and I have my infirmities, but there are still cases which are given to nobody but me. Among them are those which involve the honor of persons in a high station of life.”

Mr. Gryce paused. Dr. Cameron felt his apprehensions return.

“You see,” the detective slowly resumed, “I can keep a secret; that is, when the life and property of others are not endangered by my silence. I can do a detective’s work and keep a detective’s counsel, only speaking when and where necessity requires.”

He paused again. Dr. Cameron moved uneasily.

“As in this case,” added the other, gravely.

“This case?” repeated the doctor, now thoroughly alarmed, “What case? You excite me; tell me what you have to say, at once!”

But the detective was not to be hurried.

“I was therefore not at all surprised,” he proceeded, as if no interruption had occurred, “when some three days ago I was requested to call upon—Mrs. A., let us say, on business of a strictly confidential character. Such summonses come frequently. Such a summons does not disturb an officer in the least. I nevertheless made haste to show myself at Mrs. A.’s house; for Mrs. A., whom you perhaps know, is a woman of some consequence, and her husband a man of widespread reputation and influence. I found her at home, anxiously awaiting my appearance. As soon as she saw me she told me her trouble: ‘Mr. Gryce,’ said she, ‘I am in a great dilemma. Some thing has occurred in our family which may or may not lead to a lasting dishonor. What I wish from you is aid to determine whether our fears are well-grounded. If they are not, you will forget that you were ever called to this house.’ I bowed; I was already interested, for I saw that her anxiety was great, while I could not help being puzzled over its cause, for she had no son to disgrace her by his dissipations, and as for her husband he was above reproach. She soon relieved my curiosity,

“ ‘Mr. Gryce,” said she, ‘I have a daughter.’

“ ‘Yes,’ I returned, inwardly startled, Miss A. and dishonor seemed so wide apart.

“ ‘She is our only child,’ the mother went on. ‘We love her, and have always cherished her, but though it is not generally known in the house—’ and here the poor lady’s eyes roamed about her as if she were afraid that her words would be overheard, ‘she has left us; gone away without acquainting us where—suddenly, inexplicably, leaving only the most meagre explanation behind her, and—and’—’

“ ‘But, madam,’ I interrupted, ‘if she left any explanation—’

“Mrs. A. took a small and crumpled note out of her pocket and handed it to me.

“ ‘A letter,’ she affirmed, ‘sent through the mail. And I was in the house when she left, and would have listened to any reasonable request she had to make.’

“I had already read the four or five lines which the letter contained.

“ ‘Dear Mother:

“ ‘I must have rest. I have gone away for a few days, but shall be back on the twenty-seventh. Don’t worry.

“ ‘Your affectionate—’

“ ‘What is the matter with this?’ I asked. ‘She says she will be back on the twenty-seventh, and today is only the twenty-fourth.’

“ ‘Sir,’ was the answer, ‘it is the only time in our experience when our daughter has left us without first gaining our permission. Besides, the time is especially inopportune. My daughter’s wedding-cards are out.’ ”

Mr. Gryce stopped suddenly, for Dr. Cameron had given an anxious start.

“Ah, that arouses your interest!” remarked the detective. “Your own wedding being so near, I am not surprised.”

It was dryly said, and the doctor at once reseated himself. He had no wish to appear unduly moved, but he could not suppress every token of emotion, so he turned his head away from the light. Mr. Gryce let his gaze travel to a new object before proceeding.

“This avowel of Mrs. A. put a new aspect on affairs,” said he, “but yet I saw no reason for the extreme anxiety displayed. ‘And on what day does she expect to be married?’ I asked.

“ ‘On the twenty-seventh.’

“ ‘But she says she will be back?’

“ ‘That does not comfort me.’

“ ‘You think she will not come?’

“ ‘I have no hope that she will.’

“This acknowledgment was uttered with emphasis. There seemed to be but one conclusion to draw.

“ ‘Your daughter wishes to escape her engagement?’

“The answer was less emphatic than before. In fact it expressed doubt.

“ ‘I do not know, sir, my daughter is not herself; has not been for some time. My husband and myself have both noticed it; but we never anticipated her taking any such extreme action as this. Where has she gone? What will become of her? How can we face the world? How can we tell her lover?’

“ ‘Then you think—’

“ ‘That she is laboring under a temporary aberration of mind, caused perhaps by the excitement of the last few weeks, that she is not responsible for her acts; that she may be anywhere, remote or near; and that we may wait till the hour set for her marriage is past without seeing her.’

“To this I could make but one reply. ‘Then why not take her lover into your confidence, inform him of your fears and gain the benefit of his experience in your search for her,’

“The answer will astonish you.

“ ‘Because we are very proud and he is very proud. To explain our fears, we should be obliged to say much that it would be humiliating for us to utter and for him to hear. Besides, we may over-rate the situation. She may come back, as she says she will; and should this be the case, you can see for yourself what endless regret would follow any such confidences as you suggest.’

“ ‘But—’ I began.

“ ‘It is this note that causes our dilemma,’ she interposed. ‘With these lines before me I cannot act as if there were no hope of her returning in proper time to take her part in the ceremony. Yet I do not trust these lines, nor the promise she has made. Why, I can hardly say; for she has always been a woman of her word. But she is not herself, of that I am convinced.’

“This repetition of her former assertion made it easy for me to inquire what special change she had perceived in her daughter to lead to such a conclusion. She evidently found it difficult to reply.

“ ‘I cannot put it into words,’ she declared: ‘I feel the change.’

“ ‘And how long have you felt it?’

“ ‘Not long, since we began active preparations for her wedding, I think.’

“ ‘And has no one else observed it?’

“ ‘I cannot say; I should think her lover would.’

“ ‘Why?’

“ ‘Because it has been in reference to him she has shown her peculiarities strongest. For weeks she has received him only on sufferance; and for the last few days has more than once absolutely refused to see him.’

“ ‘And what reason did she assign for this?’

“ ‘Follies. Fatigue, caprice, a letter to write, a dressmaker to see, anything that came into her head.’

“ ‘Yet she went on preparing for her wedding?’

“ ‘Certainly, her cards were out.’

“The tone in which this was said, caused me to reflect. Though affable, kindly and even philanthropic in her dealings towards the world at large, Mrs. A. is, as every one knows, a woman who would find it very difficult to infringe upon any of the laws of society. Having seen her daughter pledge herself to a man of suitable pretensions, she would consider such a pledge final if only because she could not face the talk and scandal that would follow a rupture. Influenced by this idea I remarked:

“ ‘You must be perfectly frank with me if you want me to help you at this crisis. Has your daughter, or has she not, expressed a wish to break her engagement?’

“ ‘She asked me once if I thought it too late for her to do so. Of course there was but one reply to this and she said no more. But,’ the poor mother continued hastily, ‘that was only a symptom of flightiness. She has nothing against her lover, does not pretend to have.’

“ ‘Only against marriage?’

“ ‘Only against marriage.’

“ ‘Mrs. A.,’ I now boldly asked, ‘do you think she loves the man you expect her to marry?’

“The answer came hesitatingly. ‘She accepted his attentions with pleasure when they were first offered.’

“ ‘Do you think she loves any other man?’

“The mother shrunk back in dismay. ‘I am sure she does not. How could she? There is not another such gentleman in our circle of acquaintance.’

“This was flattering to the gentleman, but not exactly satisfactory to me.

“ ‘You know girls sometimes take strange whims.’

“ ‘My daughter is not a girl, sir, she is a woman.’

“This silenced me as it would you, sir, I have no doubt; and seeing the mother was really sincere in believing that her daughter’s mind was temporarily affected, I inquired again as to what she had done or failed to do of late, and found that she had shunned the society of the members of her family as well as that of her lover, finding her sole interest seemingly in the preparation of her wardrobe. ‘To that she did attend,’ said Mrs, A,, ‘and it was the only thing she did help me in. No hour was too late for her to see her dressmaker; no engagement too pressing for her to receive and fit on any of the new costumes that kept coming home. Indeed she showed more than a bride’s usual interest in such matters; and it is the one reason I have for not disputing you utterly when you say she may come back. She will want to see her dresses.’

“ ‘Then she did not take them with her?’

“ ‘She took nothing.’

“ ‘What! not a trunk?’

“ ‘Nothing; that is, nothing but a little hand satchel.’

“ ‘How do you know this?’

“ ‘We all saw her go out; she was in shopping costume.’

“ ‘But she had money?’

“ ‘I cannot say. Some, no doubt; but we found a large roll of bills in her drawer, and her father says it contains nearly all he had lately given her. I do not think her pocket-book held more than five dollars.’

“This was a point. Either the girl was going amongst friends, or she was really touched in her mind. To make sure that the first supposition was not true, I asked for a list of the houses which Miss A. was in the habit of visiting. Mrs. A. mentioned some half dozen, but added that her daughter’s most intimate companion was in Europe and that she did not think she cared enough for the others to go to them at this time.

“ ‘And she positively carried no baggage with her?’

“ ‘None. I have looked her things over carefully and find nothing missing. She did not even wear her diamonds.’

“ ‘And her watch?’

“ ‘Is left behind.’

“ I felt troubled. I looked at the mother to ascertain what her real fears were. But they did not seem to be any worse than those she had expressed. Was she blind to the possibilities? I felt it my duty to repeat a former question.

“ ‘Mrs. A.’ said I, ‘I will try and find your child. The fact that she had too little money to go far from home will facilitate matters. But first I must be sure that there is no third party mixed up in this case and that party a gentleman. You are certain she was not secretly interested in some unknown person?’

“ ‘I can only repeat her words,’ replied the poor mother. ‘The very last time I saw her, (it was day before yesterday evening), she looked so feverish and acted so unlike herself, that I ventured to ask her if she were sure she would not fall sick before her wedding-day. She said with an unnatural laugh I hear ringing yet, “I have no idea of falling ill and I shall certainly not do so till after I have married the doctor.” ’

“Did I say,” inquired the detective, pausing, “that Miss A.’s lover was a doctor?”

This was too much for his uneasy auditor. Leaping to his feet, Dr. Cameron confronted the speaker and exclaimed hotly,

“You are playing with me. It is of my intended wife you are speaking; and you are amusing yourself with a long, drawn-out tale, when all I want to know is, whether I am to find my bride at the altar when I go there, or whether I am to be made the victim of an outrageous scandal that will affect my whole future career. Don’t you know that it is now half past four and that at eight—”

“Softly,” interrupted the other. “I am Ebenezar Gryce and I seldom go slow when I ought to go fast. If I take up your time by telling you a long, drawn-out tale, it is because—”

But the doctor was in no mood for talk.

“Tell me,” said he, “if Miss Gretorex has returned to her father’s house.”

“She has not.”

“And they have not heard from her?”

The detective shook his head.

Dr, Cameron’s mouth took a grim curve. “There is to be no wedding then, I see.” Then as the other did not answer, he broke out into a harsh laugh and turned towards the window. “I will send and countermand the order for my carriage,” he now dryly remarked.

Mr. Gryce advanced and touched him softly on the shoulder.

“On the contrary,” said he, “you will send for it to come at once; there is use for it.”

“I do not understand you.”

“You have not heard my story out.”

“Speak, then. If nothing but slow torture will answer, why I must summon up my courage and submit.”

“Good! Meanwhile you will send for your carriage?”

“If you say I will require it.”

“I have already said so.”

“Wait,” cried the other, stopping him as he reached out his hand toward the electric bell. “Where am I expected to go?”

“To the C— Hotel.”

“A fine ride on my wedding-day.”

“A necessary one.”

“And whom am I expected to see there?”

“A young woman who has registered herself as Mildred Farley, but who I think looks precisely like the original of that picture I see hanging over your fireplace.”

Dr. Cameron shuddered.

“Don’t you know whether it is the original or not?”

“No; if I did I should not need you. I should take Mrs. Gretorex with me instead.”

“And why don’t you do so as it is?”

“For two reasons. First, she is a woman and I wish to save her all the suffering I can; secondly, she is a marked person and her appearance in a crowded hotel on the day of her daughter’s anticipated wedding might awaken comment.”

“And mine?”

“You are a doctor; you can go everywhere, at any time without causing the least scandal.”

“And the young lady? Have you thought how very agreeable to her my presence will probably be, if she is as you surmise, the woman I am expected to marry in four hours?”

“I have thought of everything. The young lady shall not see you. You shall only see her.”

“And if I find her the stranger her name implies?”

“You shall drive to Mr. Gretorex’s house as fast as you can, confident that your bride will be there to welcome you.”

Dr. Cameron no longer hesitated. The carriage was ordered. While they were waiting for it, the doctor asked for the remainder of the story he had before disdained to hear. “I can listen now,” he said, “I already know the worst.”

With an enigmatical bend of the brows the detective continued.

“Mrs. Gretorex has an unlimited confidence in the police. When she had told me that her daughter was missing, that she had gone out of the house without baggage, and showed me the letter she had received, she evidently thought she had given me all the information necessary. But I thought differently. Having but three days in which to accomplish this task, it was necessary that no time should be lost in pursuing false clews, so after asking for Miss A.’s—Miss Gretorex’s photograph, I put a few further questions, and finding that she could really give me no added information, I followed out my usual course in these matters and asked leave to interrogate the servants.

“ ‘But,’ she exclaimed, ‘they have no notion but that she has gone away with our full knowledge and consent. It would ruin everything to take them into our confidence; girls of that class can never keep a secret.’

“ ‘I understand,’ I replied, ‘and I have no notion of taking them into our confidence. We have fifty ways of getting what we wish out of servants without their suspecting either us or our motives.’

“I thought the lady looked peculiar. ‘Well,’ said she, ‘the only one who could give you any information has lately left the house. My daughter took a dislike to her and begged that she should be dismissed. Not liking to cross Miss Gretorex in her present condition, I complied, though I knew nothing against the girl and liked her work well.’

“This had the look of a clew; at all events it was worth another question.

“ ‘And what excuse did your daughter give for her dislike?

“ ‘O, none; thought the girl prying, I believe, meddled too much with her new things, I suppose.’

“I asked for the girl’s address. That word prying gave me hope; it was the open sesame perhaps to the mystery before us. The mother gave it without hesitation, but also without any enthusiasm. That a servant should have picked up any information in regard to her proud daughter of which she herself was ignorant, seemed absolutely incredible to her. But I know my business,” asserted Mr. Gryce, “and after taking such measures as are usual with the police when a person like Miss Gretorex is missing, I went to see this girl.

“I will not try your patience by relating the interview. It was like a thousand others I have had and ended very much as I expected it would. She talked, but was not conscious she talked. She told me all she knew about Miss Gretorex and considerable that she did not. There was evidently reason for her mistress calling her prying, for she had a great deal to say about a girl who used to come there with sewing; trash which I was obliged to listen to in order to get at the one thing I wanted, which was that she had once surprised the young lady writing a letter she evidently did not wish seen, for she blushed with anger at the intrusion, calling the girl names and threatening her with the dismissal she afterwards received.”

“And this letter?” asked Dr. Cameron, in a voice he strove in vain to keep calm.

“Was but begun. The girl only saw the line ‘My beloved D—’ a very proper beginning if she were writing to her future husband.”

“Very,” returned the doctor. But the suppressed sarcasm in his voice told the detective all he wanted to know.

“But it looked as if it were not to her future husband,” continued that worthy, gravely. “And finding that she had no intimate friend whose name began with D—, I began to feel assured that my original surmise was true and that there was a third party in the case to whose influence Miss Gretorex’s disappearance was due. I therefore added to the precautions already taken, such others as my own judgment suggested; causing a description of her person and clothing to be sent to many quarters usually omitted by the authorities. Besides doing this I had her various haunts searched and her friends examined. A detective was even sent to this office, sir, and conversed with you a half-hour day before yesterday without your suspecting his errand. But all was of no avail till this morning. This morning word was brought me that a person answering the description I had sent out, had taken dinner at a certain restaurant and afterwards gone to the C—Hotel where she was to be found in room 153. In half an hour I was there and in five minutes more I had seen her.”

“And was—was she—” stammered the doctor.

“I have said she was like the original of that picture,” remarked Mr. Gryce. “But I cannot swear she is Miss Gretorex. Her face was that of the missing heiress, but her clothing while answering in a general way to the description of what Miss Gretorex wore on leaving home, still shows points of difference which an old hand like myself cannot but take note of. As for instance, the description reads: ‘A dress of fine blue cloth trimmed with rows of black braid,’ while this woman’s dress is of blue cloth indeed, but not fine and not trimmed with black braid. Besides she has a watch on and Miss Gretorex as we know, left hers behind her. Yet,” he went on, as if in answer to Dr. Cameron’s sudden look of relief—though how he could see it I cannot say for he was looking in quite a contrary direction—“clothes are alterable and faces not so much so. Though I do not profess to explain the discrepancies I have mentioned, I fully believe the woman in room 153 of the C— Hotel is the lady we seek; but that may we be sure of it, I have come for you.”

“But,” cried the doctor with a frown, “if there is a third party as you say—”

“Hark!” said Mr. Gryce, “the carriage.” And he rose in a way that admitted of no dispute.