Читать книгу The Handsome Young Men - Footner Hulbert - Страница 4

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I carried the newspaper to Mme. Storey in her private office. This was the long room that I have so often described, furnished with priceless Italian antiques, and lighted by a row of casements at one end looking out on Gramercy Park. Here at a wide black oaken table with her back to the windows, works my beautiful mistress like a chemist in his laboratory, analysing souls. Like everybody else she had been interested and amused in following the Harker affair from day to day. When I showed her the brief, bald announcement, she did not, like others, waste her breath in protestations of horror. Her face turned grave. She said:

“Bella, we will be called on to act in this matter. Send a boy to obtain a room plan of the Palazzo, showing the suite occupied by the young couple. Make a file of the newspaper reports of the case. Get in touch with Inspector Rumsey at Headquarters; and tell him that I would be obliged if he will furnish me with the latest information. Order Crider and Stephens to report at the office.”

I was back in my own room attending to these instructions, when the outer door banged open, and four men came tumbling in. They were well-dressed men; they looked like persons to whom consideration was due; but at the moment all four had a frantic air. I had never seen any of them before. They all cried in a breath:

“Madame Storey ... where is she?”

“Who are you, please? And what do you want of her?” I asked in astonishment.

“I am Van Sicklen Harker,” said one.... “He is Mr. Van Sicklen Harker,” echoed the other three.

“Please be seated,” said I, making for the door of Mme. Storey’s room.

I doubt if they heard me. They all seemed half beside themselves. When I opened the door they pushed in with me. What could one do?

As it turned out, Mme. Storey was acquainted with Mr. Harker, and she took in the situation at a glance. All four men began talking to her at once. I picked out such phrases as: “Rody has been shot! ... Cornelia taken to Headquarters! ... We fear she may be arrested! ... No weapon has been found! ...”

“Gentlemen! Gentlemen!” protested Mme. Storey, waving her hands in front of her. “One at a time! ... Who are these gentlemen, Mr. Harker?”

“My friends ...” he said helplessly.

He was truly a pitiable object. A man accustomed to show a good front to the world, his path had always been smoothed for him, and now he suddenly found the ground cut away. At the touch of tragedy his weakness was revealed. His hands shook; his eyes rolled; his tongue stuttered. He looked very young to be the father of a married daughter; not above forty. The other three were merely his toadies; his hangers-on. Harker was the type of millionaire who always carries them around with him. There was nothing genuine in their distress. They were secretly pleased at being concerned in such an important affair. They lent a comic touch to the grim situation.

“What is it you want of me?” asked Mme. Storey.

“Help me ... help me!” said Harker imploringly.

He seemed to be unable to get any further; and one of his friends stepped forward. He was the most intelligent-looking of the three; a clean-shaven man of indeterminate age with a wary blue eye. He was elegantly dressed and there was a subtle assurance in his manner; Fifth Avenue, Newport, Lenox, was stamped on him, like labels on a piece of luggage. A comely man, but a little too soft and smooth.

“Poor Harker is overwhelmed,” he said solicitously. He had the flat, reedy voice of his type. “I am Algernon Bleecker. I have had the pleasure of being presented to you; but perhaps you have forgotten me.”

“I remember you very well,” said Mme. Storey with a polite and inscrutable smile.

“How nice of you,” purred Mr. Bleecker. “Let me explain this matter to you.”

“I am sorry,” interrupted Mme. Storey, “but I must deal with the principal. If you gentlemen will be good enough to wait in the outer room ...”

All three gentlemen were indignant; but they dared not show it openly in the light of my mistress’s cool and level glance. With angry glances among themselves, they retired into my office. I have no doubt Mme. Storey was well abused in there.

“Sit down,” said Mme. Storey more kindly to Harker. He dropped into a chair. She pushed the cigarette box towards him. “Perhaps a few puffs will steady you.” He mechanically helped himself to a cigarette, but forgot to light it.

“Pull yourself together!” said Mme. Storey in her blunt and cheery fashion. “This is a bad matter; but it might have been worse. It might have been your daughter who was shot.”

“They have taken her ... to Police headquarters,” he stammered like a man distraught.

“I understand no weapon was found,” said Mme. Storey. “And if she did shoot him, she probably had good cause.”

“She couldn’t have done it!” said poor Harker. “She was infatuated with him, God help her. He had laid a spell on her with his confounded Continental manners; kissing her hand, and so on. After that our honest, rough and ready American boys had no attraction.”

“Well then, let us find who did do it.”

“But if they let her go, they will fasten it on me!” cried Harker, all but wringing his hands. “For I was the last one to see them together.”

“Did you shoot him?” asked Mme. Storey quite calmly.

“No! No! No!” he cried. “I swear it!”

“Tell me the whole story,” said my mistress. “Begin at the point where you first learned that your daughter was married to Rody.”

He made a visible effort to calm himself. “That was yesterday afternoon,” he said. “Cornelia called me up.”

“What did she say?”

“Very little. Just a bare announcement. Asked me to come to see them at the Palazzo at ten to-day.”

“But was it not her place to come to see you?”

He shrugged helplessly. “That is Cornelia’s way. I can’t do anything with her.... Besides, she and my wife do not get along together.”

“Did she say what she wanted to see you about?”

“No. But of course I knew. It was to discuss a settlement.”

“But you had said you would do nothing for them.”

He spread out his hands helplessly. “I couldn’t let my girl starve.”

“Did you hear from them again before this morning?”

He shook his head.

“You went there at ten?”

“Yes.”

“Please tell me exactly what happened.”

He jumped up agitatedly. “I can’t remember everything,” he cried. “It was too painful ... too painful! A long wrangle! ... I expected Rody to stand out for all he could get. That didn’t trouble me. I thought perhaps it might bring her to her senses to see him revealed in his true colours. But no! She supported him throughout. She was worse than he! Oh, to see my own child taking sides against me with that young blackguard ... it was more than I could bear! ... I can’t remember everything that was said. It went on for an hour....”

“Well, I won’t press you now,” said Mme. Storey. “But if I am to help you, I shall have to question you again. What was the upshot? Did you agree to a settlement?”

“Yes. I agreed to give them five hundred thousand down and to allow them ten thousand dollars a month hereafter.”

“Hm!” said Mme. Storey.

“I wrote a letter to that effect, and signed it,” Harker added. “It was found by the police.”

“Why was it necessary to write a letter?” asked Mme. Storey.

“Rody exacted it.”

“Supported by your daughter?”

“She wasn’t in the room at that moment. She had become faint. She was under the care of her maid.”

“How many rooms had they?”

“I can’t tell you. Three I think; and two bathrooms. It was a corner suite looking out on Fifty-seventh Street. You entered it through a private foyer which had six sides, and a door in each side. The corner room was the sitting-room. My daughter’s maid occupied a room to the left of the sitting-room, and my daughter’s room was on the right. At Rody’s suggestion, we went into that room to talk so that the maid could not overhear.”

“And it was in that room that the body was found?”

“So I suppose. I do not know for certain.”

“What happened when your daughter felt ill?”

“She went back into the sitting-room.”

“How long were you alone with Rody?”

“I don’t know. Five minutes; ten minutes.”

“After you had written the letter did you see your daughter again?”

“No. What was the use? She was on his side. I was too sore and bitter. I got out as quick as I could.”

“Through the sitting-room?”

“No. There was a door from the bedroom into the foyer. I went that way.”

“Are you able to fix the time when you left?”

“Yes. When I got down into the street I noticed that it was five minutes to eleven.”

Mme. Storey glanced at the newspaper. “The body was found at ten minutes past.”

“So they say.”

“Mr. Harker, do you own a revolver?” she asked bluntly.

His eyes rolled wildly. “I ... I suppose so,” he stammered. “In fact I think I have several. But it is many years since I have had any occasion to handle ... to look at them....”

“But somehow, one does not forget one’s guns,” said Mme. Storey mildly. “You must realise how important to you this question is. Can’t you give me a more explicit answer?”

“I ... I should have to think it over ...” he said nervously.

Mme. Storey appeared to let the matter go. “One last question,” she said. “What did your daughter say upon regaining consciousness?”

“I have not seen her,” said Marker. “I am told that she has refused to make any statement whatsoever.”