Читать книгу Murder Will In - Carolyn Wells - Страница 4

Table of Contents

The party was a picturesque one.

Those on the upper floor could look down in the rotunda and those below could look up and see their friends over the circular railing.

Foo Chow, the Chinese butler, came near McCleod and made a slight movement of his eyebrows. Hugh stepped toward him, and waited for his message.

He did not like what he called heathens, and did not want a Chinaman in his service. But Alma did, and her whims were his laws. Foo Chow had been with them all their married life, four years, and his work and his attitudes were nothing short of perfection.

In a low voice he told his master that Miss Emmy wished to see him.

“My father?” said Hugh, quickly.

“Yes, sir, I think that is it.”

But Hugh was already on his way.

Foo Chow had found him in the upper hall, and he had at once left the group he was with, went through his own bedroom and into a tiny hall from which a spiral stair led upward.

Hugh’s father, Angus McCleod, and Miss Emily, Hugh’s sister, lived in a smaller apartment just above his own.

The old man was an invalid and subject to sinking spells, any one of which might be his last.

He had been fairly well of late, but Hugh realized the seriousness of the occasion. He had his own key, and in a moment he was in his sister’s presence.—

“A bad attack?” he asked.

“Yes,” Emily told him. “Is Doctor Larkin downstairs?”

“No, he has gone home. It’s half past two.”

“Yes, I know. And I think we needn’t send for him. Dunn has given Father his drops, and unless he gets worse, I shall not feel alarmed.”

“I’ll dismiss the crowd, Emmy, if you think there’s danger of—”

“No, he won’t die tonight—unless there’s a sudden change. It would be awful to send the people away! Alma—”

“Alma will do as I tell her. Let me take a look at Father. Is he asleep?”

They went to the bedroom and as Hugh approached Angus opened his eyes.

“Amaist gane,” he whispered; “aweel, ’tis a’ recht. Whaur’s Dunn?”

“Here, sir,” and the man servant, who was also nurse, stepped to the bedside.

He too was a Scotchman, and an old retainer.

But he used no Scotch lingo, and indeed, Angus McCleod did not, when he was feeling well. They often judged the extent of his attack by the broadness of his dialect.

Dunn turned to Hugh. “He’ll come out of this,” he said. “Often he’s been a deal worse, and all right again in the morning. Leave him to me, sir, I’ll guarantee him a night’s rest that’ll last till tomorrow noon, I’m thinkin’.”

Emily said, “He won’t last very long, Hugh.”

“I know and I’ll do just as you say about the party.”

“Let it go on. And I’m sure many of them will go soon; it’s only Alma’s particular crowd who stay on and on—and on! Now, you go back, Hugh, and say nothing of this to anyone, not even to Alma, or the servants. You can come back once in a while, and then I’ll know whether we ought to send for the doctor or not.”

He went down the steep little steps into his own bedroom. When he came to live in his spacious home, he took an apartment above his for his father and sister, and had the communicating stairway built in. He loved his people and though Alma was not affectionate with them, she was always kindly and ready to do anything she could for their pleasure.

Emmy tried honestly to establish sisterly relations, but she was forty-seven and Hugh’s wife was twenty-six, too great a gulf of time to be successfully bridged.

But, though having little in common, the two women were clever enough to invent a sort of make-believe friendship which passed for the real thing, even among those most interested. There never was any friction, they deferred to one another’s tastes and wishes, and none but themselves knew what a trifle it would take to demolish the air castle of affection they had so cautiously built up.

Even Hugh, who realized their entire incompatibility, assumed that they were as friendly as most sisters-in-law and he felt satisfied.

He sat for a time in his room, thinking what must happen when his father died, and the day could not be far distant.

He could see no plan but to have his sister live in his home. But he had a lively recollection of one time when he had mentioned this to Alma. It was not a pleasant memory, and he did not dwell on it. He sighed, and then he rose from his easy chair and went to rejoin his guests.

Half way down the marble staircase, he looked at the scene and saw at once that a number of people had left. Those still there had seemed to gather themselves into groups, and one of the groups centered about his wife.

Alma was surrounded by her intimates, and she was at her very best.

Hugh stared at her as if he had never seen her before. Indeed, as he often told her, he fell in love with her every time he laid eyes on her.

Van Dyke Haynes was nearest her, but he was not too near; Alma would take care of that. Ogden Murray was hovering. Hugh had never seen him so attentive before. Doctor Lloyd was telling a story, and Brand Herrick was just walking away.

Hugh was glad to see the doctor there still. He was Alma’s doctor, but if the old man should grow worse suddenly, he could be of first aid.

From his point of vantage in the curve of the staircase, Hugh stood looking at the people and the rooms. It was such an attractive scene that he wondered why Alma should want to build a big house on Long Island.

Of course, her reasons didn’t matter; if she wanted it she should have it, but what about his father and Emmy? Would Alma want them in her new home? He must have a talk with her about this.

He supposed he would have to build two houses. Well, if that would satisfy his three dependents, it would be all right by him.

“Could I but stand where Moses stood And view the country o’er,”

The crooning voice was of someone coming up the stairs, and Hugh turned toward him.

Brand Herrick laughed.

“I couldn’t help it,” he said. “You looked so satisfied, and yet something troubled you.”

Hugh was thinking of his father. “It is nothing I can help. Not going, are you?”

“I think so. And now I’ve a chance, I’m going to say something to you. I may be sorry, but I think it’s my duty.”

“The surest way to get into trouble is to do something you think is your duty.”

“I’ll take a chance on it. It’s about Mrs. McCleod.”

“Why do you call her Alma when you speak to her, and call her Mrs. McCleod to me?”

Hugh was smiling, but there was an edge to his voice.

Herrick refused to take offense.

“I don’t know why I do. But, seriously, I want to say this. Don’t let Alma see so much of Ogden Murray. I say this for her good and yours. He is not the right sort.”

“That won’t do. You must tell me of what you accuse him.”

A slight difference of tone was in Hugh’s voice and it was this that made Herrick answer him gently.

“I don’t accuse him, but I fear he is concerned in some money matters with Mrs. McCleod, and I thought and still think you ought to know about it.”

Alma came running up the steps to them, Nadine with her and some men following.

Brand had turned from his host and had started up the stairs. Alma ran after him.

“Oh, Brand,” she said, “come along with me into the rumpus room for a minute. I want to show you a statuette Gerald Vance made for me.”

“I don’t want to see it. His stuff is rotten. And I’m leaving now. I have a busy day ahead, and I must get some sleep.”

“I’ve hardly seen you at all tonight. Did you evade me on purpose?”

“Murray was with you and Ogden Murray is not one of my pals.”

“If you had come along, he would have gone—I would have made him go. Do be nice to me, Brand, I can’t think what has come over you.”—

“Nothing has come over me. But I’m sure you ought to be downstairs now. People are leaving, you know.”

She crossed the room and closed the door and then came back to him.

“Now tell me what is the matter with you.”

“Nothing. But I will tell you one thing. You’re making a big mistake in your dealings with Ogden Murray.”

“What do you mean by dealings? It sounds unpleasant.”

“It is unpleasant. And you know what it means. What is he doing for you that involves payments of money?”

Alma froze at once.—

“You have no right to ask me such a question,” she said, in a hard voice.

“Murray is trying to get you to subscribe to a swindle—or something like that, and I am warning you, before you get in too deeply.”

“When you say ‘or something like that,’ I can see you know nothing about it, and so please say nothing more about it. You are not my financial adviser and I don’t want you to be that!”

“What do you want me to be?” Brand realized his mistake as he finished his sentence.

“Oh, I want you to be my friend—my—”

The last word was spoken so low that its sound was lost as the door-knob turned and the door swung open.

Nadine came in, exclaiming, “Oh, here you two are! I bet with Hugh I’d find you locked in this room!”

“If the door was locked how did you get in?” Brand asked, taking it lightly. “We’re discussing modern art.”

“So I see,” and Nadine looked around, but found no art objects in view.

Both Murray and Haynes had come in with Nadine. But Alma paid no attention to any of them.

She said, carelessly, “Come on, Brand,” gave a look at herself in a wall mirror, and left the room.

Brand followed, perforce, and Van Haynes looked admirably at Alma as she passed him.

Hugh was in the rotunda, gracious and courteous, and when Alma came and stood by his side, he included her in his farewells to the guests.

There were more people still present than Alma had thought, and she set herself about making them happy.

She was charming to a few older people who were still there, and she made a delightful impression on some others who knew her but slightly.

Hugh was beaming with pride in his lovely wife, and Alma, for reasons of her own, showed a delightful camaraderie with her husband.

Several who had been about to go, delayed their departure, and indeed, the party seemed to begin all over again.

But Alma grew tired of it, and to create a diversion, she proposed they go up in the rumpus room and play games.

“Yes,” Nadine said, “and show us the statuette that Gerald Vance made you. I didn’t see it up there!”

“Too bad, dear,” Alma sympathized, “come along now and see it.”

“Have you really a Gerald Vance?” asked Martin Delevan, an artist of the new school.

“Yes, a small one. But he made it especially for me. It’s a pear-wood carving.”

They went upstairs again, and on a shelf that ran all the way round the walls stood the little statuette.

It was a beautiful thing, to those who could understand it, and Martin Delevan was enraptured.

He began a dissertation on the new art, and Vance’s work, which was more than Alma could stand, and she started a game of skittles to make a diversion.

This brought Delevan’s speech to a close, and then a few more of the guests went home and the rest went to the bar.

Ogden Murray found an opportunity to speak to Alma alone.

They were in a small card room on the lower floor, and Alma told him plainly that she could not talk about their business then for they were liable to be interrupted at any moment.

“Then let me come to see you tomorrow,” he suggested. “We must get this matter settled up, you know. The opportunity will not be held open much longer.”

“Why not?”

“If you won’t accept my offer there are others who will. Who is that? Alma, there is someone at the door. I thought you locked it.”

“I did. No one can come in. But I must go now, and you can’t come here tomorrow. Meet me somewhere.”

“All right. At the Chandos, at two, for lunch, and we can settle it all up.”

“Very well. If I can’t make it I’ll telephone in the morning.”

“You must make it! Understand?”

“No, I don’t understand, and I shall do as I please.”

“Unless you do as I please, you will understand.”

They went back to the others.