Читать книгу The Casual Murderer and other stories - Footner Hulbert - Страница 9

Table of Contents

When we had quieted down a little, some hasty explanations were exchanged. Aline explained that she had been released at the Yonkers railway station about eight o’clock the night before. She had got the last train for Ancaster. Arriving home, she found that Swanley was in New York looking for her, and she had taken the first train in the morning. Swanley had sent the name of his hotel to his landlady. Aline had gone there to find that he had left word he was to be found at Mme. Storey’s office. That explained her presence. On our part we assured her that Swanley was safe and well, and would be back in the afternoon.

The girl quickly realised that she was among friends—hers was the sort of nature that expects to find friends, and the strained look in her big brown eyes relaxed somewhat. It was clear that she had been through a harrowing experience of some kind, but her physical condition was good.

“Where have you been?” Mme. Storey asked.

She shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said blankly. “The strangest experience! Like a nightmare, now that it is over. I can scarcely believe that it happened. I can’t see any reason for it. I was locked up for awhile, and then I was allowed to go.”

“Tell us everything from the beginning,” Mme. Storey bid her.

“On Tuesday of last week I got a letter,” she began slowly.

“That we know,” said Mme. Storey. “Have you the letter?”

She shook her head. “The writer asked me to destroy it, and I did so. But I think I can repeat it to you word for word. I read it twenty times.

“ ‘Dear Miss Elder:

“ ‘In a roundabout way a piece of information has come to me which, if it be true, may turn out to be greatly to your advantage. Not wishing to raise false hopes, I will not specify the nature of it until I have had a chance to talk to you. A few minutes conversation would tell me if there was anything in it or not.

“ ‘Will you come to see me at my office upon the earliest possible day? Bring with you any information you may have, documentary or otherwise, relating to your father. I must beg of you not to mention this matter to any one until after you have talked with me. And please destroy this letter. But be sure to make a note of my address first.

“ ‘Awaiting your reply,

“ ‘Yours sincerely,

“ ‘Schuyler Orr.’ ”

“It was unfortunate that he was so mysterious,” I remarked.

“Lawyers are,” said Mme. Storey. “He was afraid Miss Elder might consult some other lawyer.”

“But he wasn’t a real lawyer,” said the girl. “He was ...”

Mme. Storey interrupted her with a smile. “We will tell you what we know later. Let us have your story first.... Why didn’t you tell Edward Swanley about the letter? Was it because Orr asked you not to.”

“No,” she said. “It is because Edward is so sensible, so careful of me, I was afraid he would stop me from going. He would have said it was a swindle of some sort. I thought myself it might be, but I wished to find out. If it turned out to be a sell, I wasn’t going to tell anybody. If there was anything in it, I meant to surprise Edward. It never occurred to me to suspect harm to myself. Why, nobody had ever harmed me in all my life.

“I took the train on Wednesday at noon. I hadn’t written the man to say I was coming, because I thought I would feel so cheap if there was nothing in it. I meant to say to him that I happened to be coming to New York anyway, so I just dropped in. On the journey nothing happened. But as I came through the train gates in New York I was greatly astonished when a man stepped up and asked me if I was Miss Elder....”

“Describe him,” said Mme. Storey.

“Well ... an ordinary sort of man. Neither handsome nor ugly. He was unusually dark; his face colourless. He wore a blue suit which looked like a uniform, but it was not a uniform. Where he shaved the hair showed through his skin; bluish; particularly his upper lip ...”

Mme. Storey and I exchanged a glance.

“... He was very polite and respectful. I took him for a lawyer’s clerk, but it turned out he was only a servant. It was he afterwards who ...”

“Wait!” warned Mme. Storey. “We’re still in the railway station.”

“He said that Mr. Orr had sent him to meet me, and he took my bag from me. This way, he said.... Well, you know how it is. Mr. Orr was in my mind, and for a second it seemed natural enough; I followed him through the station. But the questions soon began to rise inside me.

“ ‘How did you know me?’ I asked him.

“ ‘Mr. Orr described you to me,’ he said at once.

“That kept me quiet for a moment. The whole thing was so mysterious, I didn’t know but what this man Orr might have seen me at some time or another. Then I thought of something else.

“ ‘But Mr. Orr didn’t know that I was coming to New York.’

“ ‘He told me he wasn’t sure of it,’ the man said, ‘but he had looked up the trains from Ancaster, and he hoped you might be on this one.’

“If I had been a strong-minded person I would have stopped right there. But the man was so plausible and ready with his answers that it confused me. He was hurrying me along faster than I could think. He was so perfectly sure that I was coming, it was hard for me to make a stand against him. We went out of the side door of the station to the covered driveway, where there was a handsome car waiting with a correct chauffeur in livery. Before I knew what was happening, I was inside and we were moving off.

“I know very little about New York, but I could see that we were heading uptown, not in the direction of offices.

“ ‘Where are we going?’ I asked.

“ ‘To Mr. Orr’s home,’ he said. ‘Mr. Orr was slightly indisposed to-day, and remained at home. That was why he sent me to meet the train. He was so anxious to see you.’

“ ‘Has Mr. Orr a family?’ I asked.

“ ‘Oh, yes,’ he said at once, ‘A large family. Mrs. Orr is expecting you.’

“I was silenced again. It was silly of me, but there was something reassuring in the thought of a large family. All made up, of course. The man was perfectly respectful; he never addressed me except when I asked a question. We drove on and on and on. I was uneasy in my mind, and I kept getting uneasier. Finally we crossed a narrow river ...”

“The Harlem river,” murmured Mme. Storey.

“ ‘Where does Mr. Orr live?’ I asked.

“ ‘In the country,’ the man replied. ‘Dobb’s Ferry.’

“When the houses began to thin out I became very frightened. It suddenly struck me as very strange that, if the man was a servant, he should be riding inside with me. I made a break for freedom. I rapped on the glass that separated us from the chauffeur. To the man beside me, I said:

“ ‘I want to get out. I am going to my hotel. If Mr. Orr wants to see me, he can communicate with me there.’

“The chauffeur paid not the slightest attention to my rap. As for the man beside me, his manner changed like lightning.”

“ ‘Be quiet!’ he said. ‘I don’t want to hurt you, but if you cry out ...’ He showed a pistol he had in his pocket.

“I fell back in my corner, half-sick with terror. I thought then of all the newspaper stories I had read of horrible things happening in New York. I thought it was all up with me. I was incapable of making any resistance. The sight of that pistol paralysed my arms and legs. The man leaned over and pulled down the shades over the rear windows, so nobody could see in. He never offered to touch me. Hard and ugly as he had turned, he was still in a way, respectful. But I had the hideous thought that he was taking me to some other man.

“The hours that followed are just a blank of horror ...”

“Hours?” said Mme. Storey surprised.

“Yes. For nearly three hours we drove at a good rate of speed. I had my wrist watch. But I think we were not going direct to any place. For it seemed to me that I had glimpses through the front window of bits of road I had seen before. I think we were just driving around until it became dark, so that I should not be able to see the place where I was taken.”

“Ah, very likely,” said Mme. Storey. “Go on.”

“It was dark when we got to the place. I had an impression that we had turned into a private driveway; a short driveway. I was hustled into the house so quickly that I got no impression of the outside of it. Inside, it was a very nice sort of house; modern and beautifully furnished; not a very large house. There was a woman waiting for us in the hall; she was dressed as a trained nurse. I was taken right upstairs to a bedroom.

“It was a very pretty bedroom with pink walls, a rose colour rug, bright cretonne hangings, and softly shaded lights. There was an open fire burning. I had no eyes for its prettiness, because I immediately perceived through the cracks of the cretonne hangings that both of the windows were boarded up on the inside. Like a sort of madhouse. And the nurse, too. I could have screamed only my throat was too constricted.

“I had been left alone with her. She helped me off with my hat and coat. I suppose I was like a frozen woman. She undertook to soothe me, and make me relax.

“ ‘It’s all right; it’s all right,’ she kept saying. ‘You’ll only have to stay here a little while until he comes, then everything will be explained.’ ”

“Describe her as well as you can,” said Mme. Storey.

“She was like the man who had brought me. I don’t mean in the way that brother and sister are alike, but the same manner, the same class, the same smooth English voice. Later on I got the impression from their matter-of-fact air towards each other, that they were man and wife. She was spotlessly neat; she was rather a good-looking woman, but her face was closed. You never could tell what lay behind that composed mask.

“She went on to tell me that she had nothing to do but wait on me, and make me comfortable, and that I was to have no hesitation in asking for anything in the world I might want.

“ ‘What am I here for?’ I demanded.

“ ‘I don’t know,’ she said with a meaningless smile, ‘And I mustn’t guess. Don’t ask me that, because it will only make it hard for us to get along. But anything else ... I have a broiled chicken and some fresh peas for your dinner. I hope it will please you. And will you take a glass of champagne?’ ”

Aline broke off, and passed a hand across her face. “It was all so strange! so strange!” she murmured.

“What do you mean exactly, by strange?” asked Mme. Storey.

“Well, there I was a prisoner without knowing why, and nearly out of my mind with terror and apprehension, and then to be waited on like that—the woman was prepared to be masseuse, lady’s maid, hairdresser; besides cook and companion. I have never been waited on before. It was as unreal as a dream.”

“Oh, he always does things in the grand manner,” said Mme. Storey grimly.

“Whom do you mean; Orr?” Aline asked.

Mme. Storey shook her head. “Poor Orr! Go on. We’ll tell our story later.”

“The thought of food revolted me,” Aline continued. “But she went away to fetch it, locking the door behind her. I took the occasion to examine my prison. As I have said, close boards had been nailed across the window frames. I scratched at the edges in vain. The smaller window in the bathroom adjoining was similarly closed. Throughout both rooms I searched for something that might serve to pry one of the boards but there was nothing. Even the fire-irons had been removed. When the fire was to be made up, they were brought in from the hall.”

“You might have tried setting the house on fire,” suggested Mme. Storey.

“I never thought of that,” said Aline, in her serious way.

“Go on, my dear.”

“There was nothing to break out with,” Aline resumed, “but everything else I might be supposed to wish for; expensive writing paper; a whole armful of the latest books; a phonograph with all kinds of records. There was even a pack of cards and some jigsaw puzzles.

“The woman came back with my dinner, and it was just as she had promised; even to the little bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice. I wouldn’t let her open that. The service was of the most beautiful silver and china, and the food no doubt delicious. But I couldn’t touch it.

“ ‘Perhaps the chicken will appeal to you cold, later,’ she said. ‘I will save it.’

“She asked me if I would like her to sit with me or read to me, or if I preferred to be alone. I asked her what all the writing-paper was for, and she said I was free to write to my friends if I wished. I sent her away. She pointed to a push button alongside the fireplace, and said that it would fetch her at any hour.

“As soon as she was gone, I sat down and started a letter to Edward; pages and pages. But it suddenly occurred to me, it would never be allowed to go out of the house, of course. One of that hard-eyed pair would read it. So I tore it up, and threw it in the fire. I walked up and down. Every five minutes was like an hour. Finally, I had to send for the woman again. It brought the horrors too close to be alone.

“She brought her knitting with her. She was knitting of all things! a pair of grey men’s socks, ending in pointed toes with a thread sticking out. For the man, I suppose. She was wearing spectacles now, and while she knitted, she rocked back and forth, and talked in a droning comfortable voice. Principally of English village life.... How strange it seemed! She must have been a wicked, wicked woman, but to have seen her then ...!”

“That’s what people are like,” murmured Mme. Storey.

“She offered to make up a bed on the couch, and remain with me through the night. But, of course, I would not let her! She was so strange to me ... But I was worse off without her. Not knowing at what moment the door of my room might open swiftly! Ugh!” The girl shuddered with closed eyes. “I would not undress, but lay down on the outside of the bed. I did not sleep a wink. The night was ten thousand years long ... But nothing happened.

“Well, that is the way things went in that house. From Wednesday night until Tuesday night. Looking back now, I can scarcely distinguish one day from another. As the time passed, in spite of myself, my sharpest fears passed. I began to eat the delicious meals that were brought me, and I slept at night. My conscience reproached me when I thought of poor Edward, and what he must be suffering. Oh! I had my bad hours; but I couldn’t keep up the pitch of agony the whole time. No matter how I fought against it, that comfortable, attentive woman lulled me.

“I soon gave up trying to question her. One might as well have addressed a plaster wall. All I gathered was, in a general way, that the mysterious ‘he’ of whom they spoke with such respect, was detained out of town, and nothing could be done until he returned.

“A curious relation developed between that woman and I. Not exactly friendship, of course, because I couldn’t trust her. But we had plenty to say to each other. There was the appearance of friendship. She taught me clever ways of doing my hair. She made some alterations in my old blue Georgette, that made it look quite smart and up-to-date. She volunteered to make me a new evening dress.

“ ‘But who will pay for the materials?’ said I.

“ ‘Oh, our expense accounts are never questioned,’ she said.

“However, I refused to hear of the evening dress.

“The man I saw but seldom. He evidently helped with the work about the house. He came in to my room, to sweep up the ashes, and lay a new fire.

“I couldn’t fix my mind on a book, but I had one absorbing occupation when I was alone, that they never suspected. That was loosening one of the boards over the window. One day when ‘Nurse’ (as I called her) went down to the kitchen to fetch me something, I started it ever so little with a table knife. But as she always remained in the room while I ate, and carried the tray away with her, I could never get hold of the knife again.

“So I had only my fingers. For hours at a time I patiently wiggled that board. Without making the slightest impression on it. I gave it up a dozen times, but was always drawn back to it again. I always had warning of nurse’s entrance, because she had to turn the key in the door. It took me four days in all to get that board up. It was not until yesterday morning that the nails finally yielded and I was able to peep through the gap.”

“And what did you see?” Mme. Storey asked.

“It was very disappointing,” said Aline, “for though I had only been brought up one flight of stairs, the ground was at least forty feet below my window. I looked right over the tops of good sized trees. Any thought of dropping from the sill or lowering myself by a rope of bedding was out of the question.”

“The house must have been built on the side of a hill, with a retaining wall at the back,” suggested Mme. Storey.

“That is what I supposed,” said Aline. “Its airy perch gave me a fine view, but that was no consolation.”

“But tell us what you saw.”

“I looked over the tops of trees on gradually descending ground, with the roof of a house showing here and there. It must have been a fine neighbourhood, for the houses were all extensive, and at a considerable distance from each other. At the end of this gradual declivity, a mile away perhaps, there was water: a broad sheet of water, with a curious humpy island offshore, perfectly bare, and far away the misty opposite shore.”

“Long Island Sound at a guess,” said Mme. Storey. “Can you draw?”

“A little.”

“Can you draw me an exact diagram of the view from that window?”

“I’ll try.”

“But finish your story first.”

“That brings me to yesterday,” said Aline. “As soon as I saw nurse—how I watched her face! I guessed that there was something in the air, and sure enough she presently remarked that ‘he’ would be there at six that afternoon, ‘and everything would be decided.’

“He?” I said, trying to make my voice sound contemptuous.

“ ‘The master,’ she said softly.

“They spoke of him as if he were a God whose acts might not be questioned. I tried to laugh at it, but I began to be terribly frightened again. Even the sort of prop I had in the woman was knocked away, because I could see that she was prepared to abase herself utterly before this mysterious ‘master.’ What sort of man was it, I asked myself, who could command such devotion?

“It appeared that the house had to have a special cleaning in his honour; consequently I was left much to myself during the day. I struggled hard to keep up my courage, but to have to wait hour after hour like that for my fate to be decided, and not even to know what the choice was—it was terribly demoralising. By nightfall I was as much unstrung as I had been on the evening of my arrival. It was the same hour.

“Sure enough at six o’clock, listening with my ear at the crack of the door, I heard the sounds of an arrival below. There was a long wait then, while I walked up and down the room, digging my nails into my palms, and trying desperately to find some talisman within myself that would enable me to keep up my courage. ‘He cannot harm me if I am not afraid of him,’ I told myself. But alas! I knew I was becoming more and more afraid every minute.

“Finally nurse came in wearing a sort of exalted expression as if she had just come from the Presence. ‘He will speak with you now,’ she said impressively. ‘You are to sit just inside the door which will be open a little way.’

“So I was not to see him! I don’t know if I can make it clear, but this was the most dreadful part of all. He was to remain an Unseen Presence; just a Voice out of the void. My teeth were chattering when I sat down in the chair she had placed. She sat down facing me, her knees touching mine. The crack of the door was between us. She could see through it, but I could not.”

Aline faltered; her sensitive lips trembled; she flung the back of her hand across her eyes. “I can scarcely tell you what happened after that,” she murmured. “It is all confused in my mind, I suppose I became hysterical. That voice coming through the door without any body was too dreadful! A low, measured voice without any human tones in it. It had a catlike quality; you thought of an animal licking its lips. I got to such a point I couldn’t stand it; I snatched at the door to pull it open, to see what was there. The woman tried to stop me, but she wasn’t quick enough. But the door was on a chain; it wouldn’t open but six inches. I saw nothing.”

“Try to remember what he said,” urged Mme. Storey.

The girl pressed her knuckles to her temples. She said: “The first thing he asked me was: what proofs had I that I was really Aline Elder. This simply confused me. ‘Proofs? Proofs?’ I said: ‘Everybody in Ancaster knows me.’

“ ‘But they are not here to testify, unfortunately.’ Hateful, hateful, soft and sarcastic voice.

“ ‘What do you want of me?’ I cried.

“ ‘Did you get a letter from me?’

“ ‘Yes.’

“ ‘Where is it?’

“ ‘I destroyed it, as you asked me to.’

“He was silent for a moment after this.”

“You had him,” remarked Mme. Storey. “You understand, of course, that this was not Orr who was behind the door?”

“Well I knew that Orr was just a name,” said Aline. “But I thought it was the man who had written to me.”

“No,” said Mme. Storey, “this man was trying to find out what Orr had written you.”

“If that is so, he did find out,” said Aline. “He asked me to repeat the letter to him, and I did so. He said he wished to make sure that I was really the person he had written to. If I had known ...!”

“You did well to repeat the letter,” said Mme. Storey. “It was probably that which saved your life.”

“Saved my life!” echoed Aline, amazed. “Why? How?”

“Because,” said Mme. Storey, “in his letter Orr had not divulged the information which was dangerous for you to know. Go on.”

“So many questions!” said Aline wearily. “What did I think when I read the letter, and so on. I told him I didn’t think anything; I was waiting to find out. I can’t remember all the questions he asked me, because at the time I couldn’t see what he was driving at. Some of them didn’t seem to have any sense.”

“Doubtless they had not,” said Mme. Storey dryly. “He is past master of the art of covering his tracks.”

“Then he came to my father,” said Aline. “I told him what little I know, but he kept coming back to it again and again, from every possible angle. Up to that moment it had never occurred to me that my father might not have died in my babyhood, but his persistence gave me the idea he might still be alive. But I thought I had better keep this suspicion to myself, so I insisted that my father died twenty years ago, as if nothing could shake me in that belief.”

“You were wise,” said Mme. Storey.

“Finally,” Aline resumed, “he said as if by accident: ‘By the way, your father’s name was Silas B. Elder, was it not?’

“ ‘No,’ I replied, ‘his name was John G. Elder.’ He appeared to be astonished by this.”

“A bit of camouflage,” remarked Mme. Storey, “the important things had been said.”

“So I suppose,” said Aline. “Well, that was the end. He said he found that he was mistaken in me. It was quite another person that he was looking for. He begged my pardon for the inconvenience he had caused me.... Inconvenience! And promised that I should immediately be set on my way home.

“He left the door. The woman went out. I listened at the door, and presently I heard him leave the house. Shortly afterwards the woman came with my supper. I was in an agony of suspense.

“ ‘Did he mean it? Did he mean it?’ I cried.

“ ‘Certainly,’ she said. ‘He never says anything he doesn’t mean.’

“And sure enough, as soon as I had eaten, she brought me my outdoor things. I was in a perfect fever of excitement then. The same limousine was waiting at the door. I was hustled into it, and whisked out of the driveway. After an hour’s ride, I was put out at a railway station which I discovered was Yonkers. The train for Ancaster came by in twenty minutes or so.”

“They returned your bag to you?” said Mme. Storey.

“Yes?”

“Intact?”

“Nothing was missing except a little photograph of my father that I took with me to show to the lawyer.”

“Ah!” said Mme. Storey. “I expect you have been thinking over this matter a good deal. Has any explanation of it occurred to you?”

The tears started into Aline’s lovely eyes, and she lowered her head. “Yes,” she murmured, “I can’t help but think from his anxiety to hide himself from me, from his taking the photograph, from the questions he asked ... I can’t help but think it was my father himself. For some reason he is ashamed of me; he does not want to acknowledge me; he was trying to find out if I suspected that I had any claim on him.... Oh, he needn’t have gone to all that trouble! For if he doesn’t want me, I would die sooner than force myself on him!”

“Not badly thought out,” said Mme. Storey. “But I think you are wrong. You fail to take into account what a charming daughter you would make. What possible reason could any man have for not wanting to acknowledge you?”

“I don’t know,” said Aline miserably.

“Tell me,” said Mme. Storey, “from that photograph which is now missing; what sort of nose had your father?”

Aline looked up in surprise. “A rather insignificant nose,” she said; “short and rather broad at the base.”

“Then I can assure you that this man was not your father,” said Mme. Storey.