Читать книгу Easy to Kill - Footner Hulbert - Страница 13

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Within an hour Mme. Storey had laid down an entirely new plan of campaign and was putting out her lines.

Then things began to happen which suggested that somebody else was busy, too. Just before tea we were sitting with Mrs. Lysaght in her living room, when our hostess was called to the telephone.

We could hear her side of the conversation.

“Hello?...Oh, hello, Amy darling!...Yes?...Why, no, Mme. Storey is not leaving Newport...I'm sure I don't know who could have started it. She is staying with me indefinitely....”

Here there followed a lengthy explanation from the other end. When Mrs. Lysaght spoke again her voice was chilly. “Well, my dear, you must do as you think best, of course. Mme. Storey compliments you by going to your luncheon....Yes, that's what I said, pays you a compliment by going to your house, and if she doesn't have to go, she will no doubt be relieved. Count me out too, darling. You know that luncheons mean little in my life....Yes....Good by.”

She came from the telephone, fuming. “These women are impossible! Each one acts as if her stuffy lunch were the season's event!”

“Who was it, Leonie?” asked Mme. Storey, smiling.

“Amy Prentiss. A mere nobody. Said she had heard you were leaving Newport tonight, and had ventured to fill your place at her table tomorrow, as the time was so short. You heard what I said to her. Told her the hell with her luncheon as near as I could without being rude.”

We laughed.

Soon afterward Mrs. Goadby called up. This was a much grander lady who lived on the cliffs. Mrs. Goadby said she was most awfully sorry, but she was obliged to recall her invitations to Mrs. Lysaght and Mme. Storey for dinner the next night. Two relatives of Mr. Goadby had arrived in Newport whom she was obliged to include, and she had only a certain number of places. She was sure dear Mrs. Lysaght would understand, etc., etc.

Mrs. Lysaght came away from the telephone, looking rather blank. “This is very queer,” she said.

Mrs. Van Zile's butler called up to say that he had been instructed to inform Mrs. Lysaght that Mrs. Van Zile's luncheon and bridge on Thursday had been postponed indefinitely. Mrs. Lysaght, out of curiosity, immediately called up a mutual friend and learned that the entertainment was not being postponed, but that additional invitations had been issued.

“There is some underhand work going on!” said Mrs. Lysaght, darkly.

“Obviously,” agreed Mme. Storey, smiling; “but it is directed against me, not you, my dear. Somebody has started the tale that I am engaged in my nefarious work of snooping in Newport, and naturally nobody wants to include a detective in company.”

“Who could have started such a story?”

“Well, I have quarreled with Mrs. Van Tassel.”

“That explains it!” cried Mrs. Lysaght. “All these women follow the lead of a Van Tassel like sheep....What about, my dear?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“No, not if it concerns your work,” said Mrs. Lysaght, hastily. “They can all go to the devil. Mrs. Van Tassel, too. You and I will see this through together.”

Mme. Storey shook her head. “You're a dear loyal friend, Leonie, but that wouldn't do me any good, and it would seriously harm you. I know that you don't think any more of these social pranks than I do, but you make your living out of these people. I will go to a hotel.”

“You'll do no such thing!”

They were still quarreling about it when the bell rang. My heart sank unaccountably. From somewhere out of the blue I received a premonition of what was coming. The parlormaid appeared in the doorway, saying:

“Mr. Nicholas Van Tassel is calling, madam.”

“Show him up,” said Mrs. Lysaght. She looked at my employer. “What on earth brings him here today?”

“Well, I could make a guess,” said Mme. Storey, smiling.

“What is it?”

“He has come to offer me his support against the boycott that has been declared against me.”

Mrs. Lysaght stared.

“Don't give him a lead,” added Mme. Storey.

“Let us make him open the subject.”

Nick breezed in with his usual energy and humor. He had changed from the funereal blacks into comfortable gray flannels.

“Gosh! what an inviting room!” he said. “So human! I needed this to take the taste of that ghastly parade out of my mouth. I can't abide funerals. Only another excuse for showing off.”

“You played your part well,” remarked Mme. Storey.

“Sure! Even I have to yield to the pressure of the herd at such times.”

“We're having tea,” said Mrs. Lysaght. “Will you join us?”

“Watch me.'” he said. “I brought along a flask of rum just in case. Real Saint Croix.”

After a pleasant visit of half an hour or so, during which they discussed everything under the sun except what had brought him, he arose to go, and for once I thought Mme. Storey was about to be proved wrong. But he paused at the door.

“By God.'” he said, “I almost forgot what I came for....Of course I could have telephoned,” he added, with his disarming grin, “but I wanted an excuse to look at Rosika's lovely face again.”

“What was the excuse?” asked Mrs. Lysaght, dryly.

“I came to tell you I couldn't take you to Mrs. Goadby's dinner tomorrow night. As the nephew of my uncle I'm supposed to go into seclusion for a while. But Bill Kip is going in my place, and he'll call for you.”

“Very kind of you to think of us,” said Mme. Storey. “And Bill. But we're not going to Mrs. Goadby's.”

“Why not?” he asked, in seeming surprise.

“Mrs. Goadby needed our places for some relatives of her husband's.”

“But that's ridiculous! At least six Van Tassels have sent their regrets. She has places to fill.”

Mme. Storey shrugged.

“Then it must be true!” he cried. “I wouldn't have believed it possible!”

“What?”

“I heard a rumor awhile ago that my aunt had been telephoning to her dear friends, suggesting that it was disgraceful a detective should have crashed our gates as you have done, and expressing the hope that all who had the true interests of Newport at heart would set their faces against it....I didn't pay any attention. Why, she invited you to her musical party!”

“Nevertheless, it appears to be true,” said Mrs. Lysaght. “In addition to Mrs. Goadby, Mrs. Prentiss and Mrs. Van Zile have already let us out.”

“Oh, this is damnable!” cried Nick, angrily. “I don't know what's the matter with my aunt. The kindest thing you can say is that the death of her husband must have unhinged her. As for these other women, Lord! the way they fawn on her makes me sick! They don't know how the big world laughs at them. Why, a woman like Rosika puts their silly little town on the map!” He interrupted his tirade to ask, eagerly, “You're not going to let them drive you away, are you?”

“No,” said Mme. Storey, demurely. “I was thinking of going to a hotel.”

“I know a better bet than that,” he cried. “Come and stay at the Dump!”

My spirits went down to zero, for I saw dearly enough what the outcome would be.

“I have influence here, too,” he went on. “My aunt and her circle of old women may consider themselves the Supreme Court and the Privy Council; they don't know it, but they're living in the dark ages. The young people only tolerate them out of good nature. What the hell! I'm a Van Tassel, too. In fact, I'm the Van Tassel. Not that I give a damn myself, but it enables me to meet them on their own ground. I'll give them a fight if they want it. Come to my place, and I swear I'll have them all eating out of your hand before I'm through.”

“What do you think, Leonie?” asked Mme. Storey, slyly.

Mrs. Lysaght shook her head. “Heaven knows I'm a liberal minded woman,” she said, “but one must draw the line somewhere. You're too young and attractive.”

“Oh, fudge! Leonie,” he said, impatiently. “Nobody thinks of that nowadays. And, anyhow, the Dump is like a hotel—a fresh crowd going and coming every day. I can supply Rosika with half a dozen chaperons, if necessary, but it would be insulting even to suggest such a thing.”

“Thanks, Nick,” she murmured.

“What's the matter with the admirable Miss Brickley?” he asked, sarcastically. “Isn't she dragon enough?”

This remark filled me with a perfect fury of hatred. I expect my green eyes glittered, for he laughed wickedly and immediately forgot me.

“You'll come?” he asked, eagerly.

“Delighted,” said Mme. Storey.

“Okay!” he said, making for the door again. “Come in time for dinner. Only a small party tonight, thanks to my dear dead nunky. Better fun. Shall I send a car?”

“Thanks. I have my car.”

“So long!” he cried from the stairs. The front door slammed.

“You don't really mind my going there, do you?” asked Mme. Storey.

“Bless your heart, no!” returned Mrs. Lysaght.

“I only made the obvious answer when you asked me....Rosika, you are a kind of witch!” she went on, with grim affectionateness. “Nobody else could ever foretell what Nick Van Tassel would do under any given circumstance.”

“Well, I'm a practicing psychologist, my dear,” she answered, smiling. “I must occasionally give a demonstration of my skill.”

Later I rebelled against the proposed move. “I can't face it!” I said. “You don't know what this man does to me! I am helpless in his presence. I seem to fly to pieces.”

“You hide it well, my dear,” said Mme. Storey, good naturedly. “I was watching you.”

“First he tries to drive us out of town, and when he sees that isn't going to work, he asks us to his house, where he can watch us better.”

“Why, of course! But think how well we can watch him there!”

“I'm afraid!” I faltered.

“So am I....But cheer up. He could not afford to allow anything to happen to us at the Dump. It is really the safest place we could be.”

“The idea of going there makes me tremble.”

“You will find your courage on the spot....I need you, Bella.”

That silenced me, of course.