Читать книгу Easy to Kill - Footner Hulbert - Страница 5
ОглавлениеThe Hero of Newport
There were half a dozen separate conversations going on around Mrs. Lysaght's luncheon table—the usual things that women talk about—clothes, tennis scores, the new play at the Casino, the latest divorce—when Mrs. Beekman Alston was heard to say:
“Nick Van Tassel told me so himself.”
The name seemed to lay a spell on all the women present. They stopped talking, and every eye was turned toward the speaker. I looked, too, you may be sure, and pricked up my ears for what might be coming. Mrs. Alston, a very pretty woman, had to submit to a kind of cross examination.
“Where did you see Nick'?”
“At the Chowder Club.”
“Was he alone?”
“He was at that moment.”
“Do you mean to say he danced with you?”
“We sat out one of the encores.”
This was received with open expressions of disbelief by Mrs. Alston's dear friends.
“You're only jealous!” she retorted.
The conversation became general and excited, and within a few minutes I had received more information about the famous Nick than I could possibly remember without a notebook. He could win the men's singles in a walk over if he would stop drinking. He had contributed fifty thousand to the building of the new cup defender. He could always be depended to put his hand in his pocket for sport.
He had bought a trimotored Sikorski seating six.
He had brought a girl nobody knew to the Goadby dance. Mrs. Goadby was furious, but what could she do? Nobody dared say anything to Nick.
A good deal of it I didn't get, because the places and the people referred to were strange to me, but it was clear that their Nick was a very high flyer indeed. There was a lot of talk about a place called “the Dump,” which I gathered must be Nick's own house. It was evident that there were gay doings there, and it was equally evident that any woman present would have given her best earrings for an invitation.
Mme. Storey finally cut in with a smile. “What is there about this young man that excites you all so much?”
“Don't you know Nick Van Tassel?” they cried.
“Well, of course I know who he is. Nick the son of Nick, the son of Nick, and so on back almost to the Flood. There has always been a Nick Van Tassel at Newport. I should think it would be an old story.”
“There never was a Nick like this Nick,” said Evelyn Suydam. “He's unique!”
“How?” asked Mme. Storey. “What is the secret of his fascination for the ladies?”
“The men are just as bad,” retorted Evelyn. “Haven't you noticed how they're all wearing the collars of their coats turned up, and their hats bashed in in funny ways? Nick started it because he doesn't give a darn how he looks, and now they're all doing it. If Nick came down Bellevue Avenue walking on his hands, they'd all be following suit the next day.”
“Is he handsome?” asked Mme. Storey.
They went into a huddle over this. The final verdict was, “No, not exactly handsome.”
“Clever?”
This was received with a laugh which spoke for itself.
“Ardent?”
“No, not ardent,” they admitted with sighs. “Cool as headcheese” one girl said, raising a laugh. “Hardboiled,” said another.
“Then what is it?”
“It isn't anything in particular,” said Evelyn helplessly. She was a little person, blonde, with a smart tongue and over size, wistful blue eyes. “It's just because he's Nick.”
There was a handsome tall girl called Ann Livingston sitting next me, and she said, with a gleam in her dark eyes: “I'll tell you the secret. Nick Van Tassel grins and does just what he damn pleases always. And Newport can take it or leave it.”
“And Newport takes it?” said Mme. Storey.
“Of course!”
After the ladies had gone, Mrs. Lysaght, Mme. Storey, and I settled ourselves for a comfortable gossip in our hostess's sitting room on the second floor. You couldn't possibly find anybody better equipped than Mrs. Lysaght to give you the lowdown on Newport. So secure was her position, that when she was left a widow with very little money, she was able to go into business without losing caste.
She was an interior decorator. She had no shop, but merely “consulted” with her clients, and collected fees from both sides.
“I must meet Nick Van Tassel,” said Mme. Storey.
Mrs. Lysaght threw up her hands. She is an ample woman, clever and good natured. “My dear, I might as well ask the Prince of Wales to dinner!”
“Surely he would come here.”
Mrs. Lysaght, since she has been on her own, has acquired such a reputation for doing the smart and unusual that invitations to her little house are greatly prized. Her own circle is considered one of the most inner in Newport. But she shook her head.
“He wouldn't come,” she said. “He won't go anywhere unless the fancy happens to take him. He will tell you so to your face. He's the rudest young man of them all...and the most attractive.”
“Mercy!” murmured Mme. Storey, lazily. “We must have him over.”
“He's a strange person,” Mrs. Lysaght went on.
“Nobody can understand how the respectable run-of-the-mine Van Tassels happened to produce such a one. Van Tassels are noted for their dullness. That's how they've kept their money so long. But Nick....”
She was interrupted by the entrance of the parlormaid, who said, “Mr. Nicholas Van Tassel is calling, madam.”
“Well!” drawled Mme. Storey. “Here's a miracle!” But she had a good idea what had brought him, and so had I.
Mrs. Lysaght was stunned for a moment. After thinking it over, she said: “He must have come to see you, Rosika. You are a famous woman, my dear, and your arrival was chronicled in the morning paper. Even the young eagle stoops to give you the once over.”
“Let's have him up,” said Mme. Storey.
When I heard the heavier tread on the stairs my heart began to beat fast. If what we had heard was true, this was one of the most remarkable criminals of modern times.
Well, I saw a tall, energetic young man with miscellaneous American features, not handsome, it is true, but with an electric quality about him that instantly made you sit up and take notice. He had a bold nose and a compelling glance that caused you to feel a little helpless when it was turned on you. I learned later that he affected most women in the same way. He subdued them in spite of themselves.
“Hello, Leonie!” he said, offhand, and marched up to my employer without waiting for an introduction. “You must be Rosika Storey,” he said, with a mixture of boldness and deference that was very flattering. “It's great to meet you. I have followed all your cases. It isn't often that anybody like you comes to roost in the Newport hennery.”
“Well!” said Mrs. Lysaght.
“Oh, I wasn't including you, Leonie,” he said, with his impudent grin. “You don't fly with these birds; you prey on them!”
Like you! I thought.
As a quite insignificant person he was prepared to overlook me entirely, but Mme. Storey made him acknowledge an introduction. He made a perfunctory bow, and immediately turned away. I should have liked to slap his face, but if I had I should undoubtedly have burst into tears. That was what he did to you.
Apparently he was completely outspoken. Such a person always creates havoc in company. I say apparently because I never doubted but that there were many secrets hidden behind his hard black eyes. He made no bones of the fact that he had come to see my employer, and he devoted himself exclusively to her. Mrs. Lysaght and I had to be content with an occasional half cynical, half flattering remark flung to us like a bone to a dog. Mrs. Lysaght was no better than the other women; she almost fawned on him. As for me, I sat silently fuming, but I had a sinking feeling that if he ever held up a finger to me I should have to go.
“How long are you going to stay?” he asked.
“As long as Leonie will have me.”
“Whatever brought you to Newport?”
“Can't I have my little fling?”
“What can a woman like you, who does things, expect to get out of this one ring circus?”
“I'm on my vacation.”
“I don't believe it,” he said, with his attractive grin. “I'll bet you're after some gilt edged crook that's operating among us without our knowing it.”
“Why, of course I am.'” said Mme. Storey, facing him out with a smile.
“Gosh! I wish you'd let me in on it! Don't you need a brisk young operative with a college education'? I'd like to do something for my country, but nobody will give me a chance.”
“Well, I'll think it over.”
“I may not have much brains, but I know Newport like a book. Forward and backward. If your man is here I'll ferret him out.”
This dangerous fencing made me a little breathless. Mrs. Lysaght knew nothing.
“When Leonie puts you out, come and stay at my place,” he went on.
“It wouldn't be proper.”
“I have a house on Ochre Point that you could have to yourself. I don't use it.”
“Why don't you rent it?”
“Well, 'Sans Souci' has never been rented, you see. Newport wouldn't like the idea....Are you fond of flying?”
“I adore it.”
“I have a little Moth that can do better than two hundred.”
“Half of that would satisfy me.”
He stayed for nearly an hour, which I understood as an unprecedented thing. He made believe to fall hard for Mme. Storey. Or perhaps there was something in it. I never knew. Mrs. Lysaght said she had never seen him so struck by anybody.
When he arose to go he said: “Will you and Leonie dine at the Dump tonight? We'll dance afterward, or what you will.”
“The Dump?” said Mme. Storey, elevating her eyebrows.
“My farm on the Sakonnet River. Oh, it's got a perfectly good name; Omega Farm—because nothing goes any farther. But Dump suits my style better.”
Mme. Storey looked at Mrs. Lysaght. “Of course we'll come,” said the latter, highly gratified.
“If I may bring Miss Brickley,” said Mme. Storey.
“Sure!” he said, without looking at me. “Delighted!...Shall I send a car for you?”
“Thanks, I have my car.”
As soon as Mme. Storey and I were alone together my pent up feelings broke out. “I won't go!” I cried, with the tears springing to my eyes. “That young man is unbearable! I don't care how many Van Tassels he's got to his name. Every time he looks at you it's an insult!”
Mme. Storey smiled at me in a way that smoothed my ruffled temper. “Oh, Bella, what do you care, my dear? He's just an interesting specimen for our museum.”
“If he's the man we've got to run down, how can we accept his hospitality?” I objected.
“If he's the man, he knows we're after him,” said Mme. Storey, serenely. “Because we were followed last night. If he dares us to come to dinner—well, that lets us out, doesn't it?”
“Do I have to go?”
“I may need you tonight, my dear.”
