Читать книгу The Mystery of the Sycamore - Wells Carolyn - Страница 3

Adjoining the bedroom of Samuel Appleby at Sycamore Ridge was a small sitting-room, also at his disposal. Here, later that same evening he sat in confab with his two assistants.

“We leave to-morrow afternoon,” he said to Keefe and Miss Lane. “But before that, we’ve much to do. So far, we’ve accomplished nothing. I am a little discouraged but not disheartened. I still have a trump card to play, but I don’t want to use it unless absolutely necessary.”

“If you were inclined to take us further into your confidence, Mr. Appleby,” Keefe began, and the older man interrupted:

“That’s just what I propose to do. The time has come for it. Perhaps if you both know the situation you may work more intelligently.”

“Sure we could!” exclaimed Genevieve. She was leaning forward in her chair, clasping her knees, her pretty evening frock disclosing her babyishly soft neck and arms; but without a trace of self-consciousness, she thought only of the subject they were discussing.

“There’s something queer,” she went on. “I can’t see through it. Why does Mr. Wheeler act so polite most of the time, and then do some outrageous thing, like – ”

“Like what?”

“Like refusing to cross the room – or – why, he declined point-blank to go with me to the north arbor, yet was perfectly willing to take me to the Japanese tea-house!”

“That’s just the point of the whole thing,” said Appleby, seriously; “here’s the explanation in a nutshell. Years ago, Daniel Wheeler was pardoned for a crime he had committed – ”

“He did commit it, then?” interrupted Keefe.

“He was tried and convicted. He was sentenced. And I, being governor at the time, pardoned him on the one condition, that he never again set foot inside the boundaries of the State of Massachusetts.”

“Whee!” exclaimed Genevieve; “never go to Boston!”

“Nor anywhere else in the state. But this is the complication: Mrs. Wheeler, who is, by the way, a distant connection of my own family, inherited a large fortune on condition that she live in Massachusetts. So you see, the situation was peculiar. To keep her inheritance, Mrs. Wheeler must live in Massachusetts. Yet Mr. Wheeler could not enter the state without forfeiting his pardon.”

“What a mess!” cried Genevieve, but Keefe said: “You planned that purposely, Mr. Appleby?”

“Of course,” was the straightforward reply.

“Then I don’t see how you can expect Mr. Wheeler’s help in the campaign.”

“By offering him a complete pardon, of course.”

“But go on with the story,” demanded Genevieve. “What did they do about the Massachusetts business?”

“As you see,” returned Appleby, “this house is built on the state line between Massachusetts and Connecticut. It is carefully planned and built, and all the rooms or parts of rooms that Mr. Wheeler uses or enters are on the Connecticut side, yet the house is more than half in Massachusetts, which secures the estate to Mrs. Wheeler.”

“Well, I never!” Genevieve exclaimed. “So that’s why he can’t go to the north arbor – it’s in Massachusetts!”

“Of course it is. Also, he never goes into the northern end of the dining-room or the living-room.”

“Or hall.”

“Or hall. In fact, he merely is careful to keep on his own side of a definitely drawn line, and therefore complies with the restrictions. His den and his own bedroom and bath are all on the south side, while Mrs. Wheeler has a sitting-room, boudoir, and so forth, on the north side. She and Maida can go all over the house, but Mr. Wheeler is restricted. However, they’ve lived that way so long, it has become second nature to them, and nobody bothers much about it.”

“Do people know?” asked Keefe. “The neighbors, I mean.”

“Oh, yes; but, as I say, it makes little confusion. The trouble comes, as Miss Lane suggested, when Wheeler wants to go to Boston or anywhere in Massachusetts.”

“Yet that is a small thing, compared with his freedom,” observed Keefe; “I think he got off easy.”

“But with Wheeler it isn’t so much the deprivation as the stigma. He longs for a full pardon, and would do most anything to have it, but he refuses to stand for Sam’s election, even with that for a bribe.”

“You can’t pardon him now that you aren’t governor, can you, Mr. Appleby?” asked Genevieve.

“I can arrange to have it done. In fact, the present governor is ready and even anxious to pardon him, but I hold the key to that situation, myself. You two needn’t know all the details, but now you know the principal points, and I expect you to utilize them.”

“I’m willing enough,” and Genevieve rocked back and forth thoughtfully, “and I may think of a way – but, for the moment, I don’t.”

“Get chummy with Maida,” suggested Appleby.

“Let me do that,” Keefe interrupted. “Without undue conceit, I believe I can influence the young lady, and I think Miss Lane, now that she knows the truth, can jolly up Mr. Wheeler to good effect.”

“But, good gracious! What do you want to do?” and Genevieve giggled. “Say I entice the old gentleman over the line – then his pardon is canceled and he’s a criminal – then you agree to ignore the lapse if he meets your wishes – is that the idea?”

Appleby smiled. “A little crude, Miss Lane. And beside, you couldn’t get him over the line. He’s too accustomed to his limitations to be caught napping, and not even your charms could decoy him over intentionally.”

“Think so? Probably you’re right. Well, suppose I try to work through Maida. If I could persuade Mr. Wheeler that she suffers from the stigma of her father’s incomplete pardon – ”

“Yes, that’s it. This thing can’t be accomplished by brutal threats, it must be done by subtle suggestion and convincing hints.”

“That’s my idea,” agreed Keefe. “If I can talk straight goods to Miss Wheeler and make her see how much better it would be for her father in his latter years to be freed from all touch of the past disgrace, she might coax him to listen to you.”

“That’s right. Now, you know what you’re here for; just do what you can – but don’t make a mess of things. I’d rather you did nothing than to do some fool thing!”

“Trust us!” Genevieve encouraged him, as she rose. “Me and Curt may not put over a big deal, but we won’t do anything silly.”

The two men smiled as the girl, with a pleasant good-night, went away to her own room.

“She’s true blue,” said Keefe.

“Yes, she is,” Appleby nodded. “All her frivolity is on the surface, like her powder and paint. At heart, that child has only my interests. I quite appreciate it.”

“I hope you think the same of me, Mr. Appleby.”

“I do, Keefe. More, I trust you with my most confidential matters. I’ll own I want this business here to come out in my favor. I can’t push Wheeler too hard – so I ask your help. But, as I hinted, I’ve one rod yet in pickle. If necessary, I’ll use it, but I’d rather not.”

“Of course I hope you won’t have to, but, I’ll admit I don’t see much chance of succeeding with the present outlook.”

“To-morrow morning will tell. If we can’t work the thing through by noon, say – I’ll spring my last trap. Good-night, Keefe.”

“Good-night, Mr. Appleby.”

Without apparent coercion the morning hours brought about a cozy session on the south veranda with Miss Lane and Daniel Wheeler in attendance, while at the same time, Keefe and Maida wandered over the beautiful park of the estate.

Keefe had gently guided the conversation into confidential channels, and when he ventured to sympathize with the girl in regard to her father’s deprivation he was surprised at her ready acceptance of it.

“Oh, you know, don’t you, Mr. Keefe!” she exclaimed. “But you don’t know all it means to me. You see” – she blushed but went steadily on – “you see, I’m engaged to – to a man I adore. And – ”

“Don’t tell me if you’d rather not,” he murmured.

“No, it’s a relief to tell – and, somehow – you seem so wise and strong – ”

“Go on then – please.”

The kind voice helped her and Maida resumed: “Well, Jeff – Mr. Allen, lives in Boston, and so – ”

“So it would be very awkward if your father couldn’t go there.”

“Not only that – but I’ve made a vow never to step foot into Massachusetts until my father can do so, too. Nothing would induce me to break that vow!”

“Not even your lover?” said Keefe, astonished.

“No; my father is more to me than any lover.”

“Then you don’t truly love Mr. Allen.”

“Oh, yes, I do – I do! But father is my idol. I don’t believe any girl ever adored her father as I do. All my life I’ve had only the one object – to make him forget – as far as possible, his trouble. Now, if I were to marry and leave him – why, I simply couldn’t do it!”

“Can’t Mr. Allen live in Connecticut?”

“No; his business interests are all in Boston, and he can’t be transplanted. Oh, if father could only do what Mr. Appleby wants him to, then we could all be happy.”

“Can’t you persuade him?”

“I’ve tried my best. Mother has tried, too. But, you see, it’s a matter of principle, and when principle is involved, we are all in the same boat. Mother and I would scorn any wrongdoing quite as much as father does.”

“And you’ll give up your life happiness for a principle?”

“Of course. Wouldn’t you? Wouldn’t every decent person? I couldn’t live at all, if I were knowingly doing wrong.”

“But your – ” Keefe stopped abruptly.

“I know what you were going to say,” Maida spoke sadly; “you were going to say my father did wrong. I don’t believe he did.”

“Don’t you know?”

“I know in my own heart. I know he is incapable of the crime he was charged with. I’m sure he is shielding some one else, or else some one did it of whom he has no knowledge. But my father commit a crime? Never!”

“Do you care to tell me the details?”

“I don’t know why I shouldn’t. It was long ago, you know, and dad was accused of forgery. It was proved on him – or the jury thought it was – and he was convicted – ”

“And sentenced?”

“Yes; to a long prison term. But Governor Appleby pardoned him with that mean old proviso, that he never should step into Massachusetts!”

“Was your mother then the heir to the Massachusetts property?”

“No; but Mr. Appleby knew she would be. So, when she did inherit, and had to live in Massachusetts to hold the estate, Mr. Appleby thought he had dad where he wanted him.”

“Were they foes?”

“Politically, yes. Because dad did all he could to keep Mr. Appleby from being governor.”

“But didn’t succeed?”

“No; but almost. So, then, Mr. Appleby did this pardon trick to get even with father, and I think it turned out more serious than he anticipated. For mother took up the feud, and she got lawyers and all that and arranged to have the house built on the line between the states!”

“Was the estate she inherited on both sides of the line?”

“Oh, no; but it was near the southern border of Massachusetts, and she bought enough adjoining land to make the arrangement possible.”

“Then the house isn’t on the ground she inherited?”

“Not quite, but the lawyers decided it so that she really complies with the terms of the will, so it’s all right.”

“Was your mother the only heir?”

“So far as we can find out. I believe there was another branch of the family, but we haven’t been able to trace it, so as the years go by, we feel more and more confident there’s no other heir. Of course, should one turn up, his claim would be recognized.”

Further talk quickly convinced Keefe that there was no hope of persuading Maida Wheeler to influence or advise her father in any direction other than his idea of right. No amount of urging or arguing would make Wheeler see his duty other than he now saw it, or make Maida endeavor to change his views. With a sigh over his failure, Keefe deftly turned the talk in other channels, and then they strolled back to the house.

As was to be expected, Genevieve had made no progress with her part of the plan. Her talk with Mr. Wheeler had availed nothing. He was courteous and kind; he was amused at her gay, merry little ways; he politely answered her questions, both serious and flippant, but absolutely nothing came of it all.

Samuel Appleby had a short but straightforward conversation with Mrs. Wheeler.

“Now, Sara,” he said, “remember I’m your old friend as well as your relative.”

“I don’t call you a relative,” she returned, calmly.

“A family connection, then; I don’t care what you call it. And I’m going to speak right out, for I know better than to try sophistries. If you can get Dan to play my game regarding my son’s campaign, I’ll see that Dan gets full pardon, and at once. Then Maida can marry young Allen and you can all go to Boston to live.”

“Sam Appleby, I’d rather never see Boston again, never have Dan see it, than to have him agree to endorse principles that he does not believe! And Dan feels the same way about it.”

“But don’t you consider your daughter? Will you condemn Maida to a broken-hearted life – ?”

“Maida must decide for herself. I think Jeffrey Allen will yet persuade her to leave her father. She is devoted to Dan, but she is deeply in love with Jeff and it’s only natural she should go with him. Any other girl would do so without a second thought. Maida is unusual, but I doubt if she can hold out much longer against her lover’s pleading.”

“I think she will. Maida has your own unbreakable will.”

“So be it, then. The child must choose for herself. But it doesn’t alter the stand Dan and I have taken.”

“Nothing can alter that?”

“Nothing, Samuel Appleby.”

“That remains to be seen. Have I your permission to talk to Maida, alone?”

“Certainly. Why not? If you can persuade her to marry Jeff, I’ll be only too glad. If you find her determined to stand by her father, then the case remains as it is at present.”

And so, as Maida returned from her walk with Keefe, she was asked to go for another stroll with Samuel Appleby.

She assented, though with no show of pleasure at the prospect.

But as they started off, she said: “I’m glad to have a talk with you, Mr. Appleby. I want to appeal to your better nature.”

“Good! That’s just what I want – to appeal to yours. Suppose you word your appeal first.”

“Mine is simple to understand. It is only that having had your way and having spoiled my father’s life for fifteen years, I ask you, in the name of humanity and justice, to arrange matters so that his latter years of life shall be free from the curse you put upon him.”

“I didn’t put it upon him – he brought it on himself.”

“He never committed that crime – and you know it!”

“What do you mean by that?” Appleby gave her a startled glance.

Had Maida seen this glance, she might have been enlightened. But her eyes were cast down, and she went on: “I don’t know it surely, but I am positive in my own heart father never did it. However, that’s past history. All I ask now is his full pardon – which, I know, you can bring about if you want to.”

“And I will, willingly and gladly, if your father will grant my request.”

“To put your son in as governor with the same political views that prevented my father from voting for you! You know he can’t do that!”

“And yet you expect me to favor him!”

“But don’t you see the difference? Your pardon will mean everything to father – ”

“And to you!”

“Yes, but that’s a secondary consideration. I’d ask this for father just the same, if it meant disaster for me!”

“I believe you would!” and Appleby gazed admiringly at the sweet, forceful face, and the earnest eyes.

“Of course I should! As I say, it means life’s happiness to him.”

“And his consent means just as much to me.”

“No, it doesn’t. That’s just it. Even though father doesn’t definitely help you in your son’s election, he will do nothing to hinder. And that’s much the same.”

“It’s far from being the same. His positive and definite help is a very different matter from his negative lack of interference. It’s the help I want. And I do want it! Do you suppose I’d come here and urge it – beg for it – if I didn’t think it absolutely necessary?”

“No; I suppose not. But I know he never will grant it, so you may as well give up hope.”

“You know that, do you, Maida?” Appleby’s voice was almost wistful.

“I most certainly do,” and the girl nodded her head positively.

“Then listen to me. I have one argument yet unused. I’m going to use it now. And with you.”

Maida looked up in alarm. Appleby’s face was stern, his tone betokened a final, even desperate decision.

“Oh, not with me,” she cried; “I – I’m only a girl – I don’t know about these things – let’s go where father is.”

“No; you are the one. In your hands must rest your father’s fate – your father’s future. Sit here, beneath the old sycamore – you know about the tree?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Never mind that now; I’ve only a few moments, but that’s time enough. You know, Maida, how your mother holds this estate?”

“Yes – she must live in Massachusetts. Well, we do. The lawyers said – ”

“That isn’t the point; this is it. There is another heir.”

“We’ve always thought it possible.” Maida spoke coolly, though a dull fear clutched her heart.

“It’s more than a possibility, it’s a fact. I know it – and I know the heir.”

“Who is it?”

“Never mind for the moment. Suffice it to say that he doesn’t know it himself – that no one knows it but me. Now, you and I know. No one else does. Do you understand?”

His keen gaze at her made her understand.

“I – ” she faltered.

“You do understand,” he asserted. “You sense my proposition before I make it. And you have it right – you’re a smart girl, Maida. Yes, I suggest that you and I keep our secret, and that in return for my silence you persuade your father to meet my wishes. Then, he shall be fully pardoned, and all will be well.”

“You criminal! You dishonest and dishonorable man!” she cried, her eyes blazing, her cheeks reddening with her righteous indignation.

“There, there, my girl, have a care. You haven’t thought it all out yet. Doubtless you’re going to say that neither your father nor mother want to remain here, if my statement is true.”

“Of course I say that! They won’t want to stay a minute! Who is the heir? Tell me!”

“And have you thought what it will mean to them to leave this place? Have you realized that your father has no business interests nor can he find any at his age? Do you remember that your mother has no funds outside the estate she inherited? Do you want to plunge them into penury, into pauperism, in their declining years?”

“Yes – if honesty requires it – ” but the sweet voice trembled at the thought.

“Honesty is a good thing – a fine policy – but you are a devoted daughter, and I remind you that to tell this thing I have told you, means disaster – ruin for you and your parents. Young Allen can’t support them – they are unaccustomed to deprivation – and,” he lowered his voice, “this heir I speak of has no knowledge of the truth. He misses nothing, since he hopes for nothing.”

Maida looked at him helplessly.

“I must think,” she said, brokenly. “Oh, you are cruel, to put this responsibility on me.”

“You know why I do it. I am not disinterested.”