Читать книгу Murder Will In - Carolyn Wells - Страница 5

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You’re jittery, Alma,” said Nadine, as her hostess rejoined them at the bar. “You were shut up in that little reception room with somebody. Who was he?”

“No one interested in you, dear. And I am perfectly calm, don’t distress yourself about me, Brand, fix me a nice long mild drink, will you?”

“I’ll make it, Alma,” Van Dyck offered. “I know a new one, you’ll like it.”

“Then you come and sit by me, Brand. I want to tell you something.”

“I want to sit by you, Mrs. McCleod,” and Doctor Lloyd took the place she had meant for Herrick.

“Yes, do,” she smiled at him.

Suddenly Foo Chow came to them.

After a formal bow, he said:

“Misser Mac Allowed go topside to see the Old Father. He velly muchee sick, and Misser Mac Allowed say Doctor Lulloyd go up to him. Me show way.”

“Oh, go right away, Doctor,” Alma said. “Doctor Larkin has gone home. It’s probably one of Hugh’s father’s sinking spells. Hugh will know what to do.”

But Lloyd had already gone with the Chinaman.

“Why do you talk that gibberish?” the doctor asked his guide. “You are an educated man.”

“Yes, sir, but my lady likes me to talk so, it amuses her and entertains her guests. I think the old man is not worse than usual, but Miss Emmy is alarmed and will be glad to see you.”

He led the doctor to the little staircase, opened its door, and Lloyd went up alone.

Emmy met him and took him at once to her father’s beside, and a quick diagnosis told the experienced doctor that it was a temporary faintness, and the patient would come out of it.

The doctor stepped into the next room, and Hugh followed him.

“Your father will not die tonight, I feel sure,” Lloyd told the anxious man. “He may live a few weeks yet, perhaps much longer than that. Much depends on his being kept quiet. If he has too much excitement, it will be bad for him. Doctor Larkin is a splendid man, and understands the case. I’m glad to have been of help just now.”

“Do you think we ought to ask the people downstairs to go home?”

“Oh, no, he cannot hear them, and it would be a pity to break up Mrs. McCleod’s pleasure.”

“Is it pleasure?” asked Hugh. “I thought she seemed languid. Do you think she will get overtired?”

“No, indeed. She is a bit worried lest you think she ought to send her friends away, but I hope you won’t ask her to do that.”

“Oh, no, since you say she is all right. I will go down, but I must come back here. I am a sort of comfort to my sister. Emmy is a tower of strength, but she leans on me. And I am not needed downstairs, but I will look in on them now and then to please Alma.”

“What are you going to do to please Alma?” said a soft voice, and his wife took his arm and drew it round herself.

Hearing Alma’s voice, Emmy came to them.

“Father is very low, Alma,” she said.

“Yes, dear, I know. I am so sorry for you, and I wish I could help in some way. But we must hope, and Doctor Lloyd says he will be better after he sleeps.”

Emmy gave a sniff. Alma’s one idea was to get away from the sick-room atmosphere, and from her husband’s relatives.

She kissed Emmy’s cheek and patted her shoulder, and then started down the little stair.

“I’ll go with you,” Hugh said. “Those steps are very narrow. Lloyd will stay for a little, and then I’ll come back.”

They went down, and Alma went to her own dressing room to take a look at herself.

With a few light touches to her make-up, she was ready to go downstairs again.

They left the room by a door opposite to the one through which they had entered, and passed through one of the guest rooms, which was turned into a men’s coat room for the duration of the party.

This opened into a small alcove which was part of the hall.

The plan of the apartment was complicated, and the hall made two turns before they reached the head of the marble stair.

They went to the bar, and Alma bade Van make one of his newfangled recipes for Hugh.

“Father McCleod is having one of his bad nights,” she explained, gently, “and Hugh is such a comfort to him, that we must let him go back to the invalid pretty soon. Drink that, Hugh darling, and you’ll say it’s a bracer.”

It was, and Hugh exerted himself to be entertaining, though anxiously wondering how soon he could make his getaway.

Alma saw this, and sooner than he would have dared, she said: “Now, I think we must let Hugh go up to see his father again. When he is safely asleep, dear, you come back to us, won’t you?”

“Yes, of course. And even though the doctor says he is all right I can’t help feeling anxious when I am not with him.”

Hugh went away, and Alma said, hopefully, “Poor dear, he is so afraid his father will ask for him and he won’t be there. Now, why don’t we have a dance? The musicians are pining to play for us; go and tell them what to play, Van. Will you be my partner, Mr. Delevan?”

They crossed the hall together, and stood near the door of the dance room, waiting for the others.

Martin Delevan took up his favorite subject.

“You are in great luck to have that bit of Vance’s work. It is one of his masterpieces. You understand it?”

“Oh, yes, in my simple way. I can’t talk the lore of the studio, though.”

“What a pity! Will you come some time to my studio parties?”

“I’m not sure. I think I’m frightened of them.”

They were dancing now, but slowly, and Delevan went on talking. “Then you cannot be happy. Fear kills happiness.”

“Not in my case. I’m afraid only of things or people that I do not understand. So, I must avoid them, to preserve my happiness.”

“Ah, yes, you have your vanity, the vanity of ignorance.”

Alma began to think this man was trying to annoy her, but she was not interested.

“Yes, I have,” she returned, with a charming smile. “And it contents me.” She had glanced at Haynes, and willingly enough he came to them and took Alma from her partner.

As they danced off, she said:

“He is the stupidest person. Do you know him?”

“He’s a celebrity.”

“Yes, I know that. Now run me up against Brand, I want to speak to him.”

“But, Alma, you haven’t given me a moment this whole night! You must stay with me now!”

“No! You heard what I said!”

“But I have something for you—a present.”

“Oh, you dear! But you can give it to me later. I must see Brand. There he is—turn this way!”

Van Dyke obeyed, for everybody always obeyed Alma.

As they reached Herrick, she said, “Our dance, I believe,” and put a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he said, and they danced.

Brand Herrick liked beautiful women and he greatly admired Alma, but he resented any hint of invitation on their part; he wanted to conquer not to be enslaved.

And sometimes Alma bored him by a seeming insistence on his attentions.

“I want to ask you something,” she said, “but not while we’re dancing. Take me over toward the hall door.”

They danced to the door, and then, as they stood a moment, she said, “Follow me,” and went swiftly ahead of him into a side hall.

As she turned a corner of the hallway, she saw Dickson, Hugh’s man. She smiled at him, laid her finger on her lip and ran on. “What’s this place?” Brand said.

“Open that door.”

Herrick obeyed and saw a tiny automatic elevator.

“Where does this thing go?”

“Up to my own rooms. It’s my escape in case of bores.”

“I see. You don’t propose to take me up to your rooms, do you?”

“Oh, Brand, how I wish you would love me! And I believe you do, only you’re afraid to say so, on Hugh’s account.”

“I’m not afraid of anything, and you know it! But I’m afraid for your reputation. Suppose someone sees us shut up in this place!”

“Oh, very well, open the door. And I won’t forget the secret about you—that you told me not to tell!”

Herrick’s face took on a stern expression.

“Don’t you ever dare tell that!” he exclaimed, angrily now.

“Open the door!”

Brand turned the knob but the elevator door remained closed.

“What’s the matter with it?” he cried. “It won’t turn!”

Alma began to laugh, at first merrily and then with a sound of hysterics.

She turned a little catch, and then she opened the door of the elevator.

When she saw Brand Herrick had gone back to the dance room, she went back to the little elevator and rode in it up to her own rooms.

She looked in the mirror, smiled at what she saw there, and started to go back downstairs, taking the short cut through the coat room.

To her surprise, Brand Herrick was in the room, looking for his coat.

“Not going?” she said, with a casual air.

“Yes, I must; it’s nearly four, and I have a big day’s work for tomorrow.

Alma went across the room and closed the door.

Coming back, she went to him, and put her arms around his neck.

“Then give me my kiss before you go. Or don’t you want to?”

“Now, now, Alma—”

“Now, now, Brand!” she said.

Downstairs, the party was going on as gaily as when it first started.

Doris Day had suddenly become frightened at the lateness of the hour. “I’m going home,” she declared. “You going to take care of me, Ogden?”

“Of course. Run up and get your wraps and I’ll be ready.”

“I suppose I must go, too,” Nadine said, regretfully. “That’s the worst of parties, they’re over so soon.”

“There’s always another ahead,” Murray comforted her, and then from somewhere upstairs came the sound of a loud agonized scream, a woman’s scream.

Nadine exclaimed, “That was Doris! I know her voice in all its inflections. What can be the matter with her?”

“Saw a mouse, likely,” Murray suggested.

“Not in this house,” Nadine told him. “They don’t allow ‘mouses’ on Park Avenue.”

Doris came uncertainly down the marble stairs.

It was Murray who ran to catch her, for her fright and terror overcame her, and she pitched headlong into his arms.

“Putting on an act,” said Nadine, as they laid the girl on a couch and gave her a drink.

“It’s Alma!” Doris moaned. “She’s asleep and she won’t wake up!”

“She will, now that you’ve left her,” Murray declared. “She was bored with your conversation.”

“Don’t, Ogden,” Nadine begged him. “Something has happened. I’m going up to see.”

She started up the stairs and Murray followed her.

The door of the coat room was open, as Doris had left it, and Nadine drew back as Murray stepped in. After a moment he beckoned her to him. Alma lay on a chaise lounge; her eyes were closed, and her head rested on a lingerie down pillow. A larger pillow lay on the floor beside the couch, and automatically Nadine picked this up and tossed it on the bed, which still held a row of men’s overcoats, neatly placed there by Dickson.

“She is dead,” Murray whispered, and Nadine was too startled to scream, but she looked at Alma more closely.

“She has bitten her lip,” she said, “see.”

“Get Lloyd up here. Where’s the man, Dickson?”

The valet was at the door, and Murray told him to go down and ask Doctor Lloyd to come, but to give no reason for the message.

Lloyd came, looked at Alma, felt her pulse and her heart, and said, gravely:

“Yes, she is dead.”