The Best of Mary Roberts Rinehart

by Mary Roberts Rinehart

  Then Miss Cornelia's mind seized upon a sentence in a hurried flow of her sister's last instructions - a sentence that had passed almost unnoticed at the time - something about Dale and "an unfortunate attachment - but of course, Cornelia, dear, she's so young - and I'm sure it will come to nothing now her father and I have made our attitude plain!"

  "Pshaw - I bet that's it," thought Miss Cornelia shrewdly. Dale's fallen in love, or thinks she has, with some decent young man without a penny or an 'eligibility' to his name - and now she's unhappy because her parents don't approve - or because she's trying to give him up and finds she can't. Well - " and Miss Cornelia's tight little gray curls trembled with the vehemence of her decision, if the young thing ever comes to me for advice I'll give her a piece of my mind that will surprise her and scandalize Sally Van Gorder Ogden out of her seven senses. Sally thinks nobody's worth looking at if they didn't come over to America when our family did - she hasn't gumption enough to realize that if some people hadn't come over later, we'd all still be living on crullers and Dutch punch!"

  She was just stretching out her hand to ring for Lizzie when a knock came at the door. She gathered her Paisley shawl more tightly about her shoulders. "Who is it - oh, it's only you, Lizzie," as a pleasant Irish face, crowned by an old-fashioned pompadour of graying hair, peeped in at the door. "Good morning, Lizzie - I was just going to ring for you. Has Miss Dale had breakfast - I know it's shamefully late."

  "Good morning, Miss Neily," said Lizzie, "and a lovely morning it is, too - if that was all of it," she added somewhat tartly as she came into the room with a little silver tray whereupon the morning mail reposed.

  We have not yet described Lizzie Allen - and she deserves description. A fixture in the Van Gorder household since her sixteenth year, she had long ere now attained the dignity of a Tradition. The slip of a colleen fresh from Kerry had grown old with her mistress, until the casual bond between mistress and servant had changed into something deeper; more in keeping with a better-mannered age than ours. One could not imagine Miss Cornelia without a Lizzie to grumble at and cherish - or Lizzie without a Miss Cornelia to baby and scold with the privileged frankness of such old family servitors. The two were at once a contrast and a complement. Fifty years of American ways had not shaken Lizzie's firm belief in banshees and leprechauns or tamed her wild Irish tongue; fifty years of Lizzie had not altered Miss Cornelia's attitude of fond exasperation with some of Lizzie's more startling eccentricities. Together they may have been, as one of the younger Van Gorder cousins had, irreverently put it, "a scream," but apart each would have felt lost without the other.

  "Now what do you mean - if that were all of it, Lizzie?" queried Miss Cornelia sharply as she took her letters from the tray.

  Lizzie's face assumed an expression of doleful reticence.

  "It's not my place to speak," she said with a grim shake of her head, "but I saw my grandmother last night, God rest her - plain as life she was, the way she looked when they waked her - and if it was my doing we'd be leaving this house this hour!"

  "Cheese-pudding for supper - of course you saw your grandmother!" said Miss Cornelia crisply, slitting open the first of her letters with a paper knife. "Nonsense, Lizzie, I'm not going to be scared away from an ideal country place because you happen to have a bad dream!"

  "Was it a bad dream I saw on the stairs last night when the lights went out and I was looking for the candles?" said Lizzie heatedly. "Was it a bad dream that ran away from me and out the back door, as fast as Paddy's pig? No, Miss Neily, it was a man - Seven feet tall he was, and eyes that shone in the dark and - "

  "Lizzie Allen!"

  "Well, it's true for all that," insisted Lizzie stubbornly. "And why did the lights go out - tell me that, Miss Neily? They never go out in the city."

  "Well, this isn't -the city," said Miss Cornelia decisively. "It's the country, and very nice it is, and we're staying here all summer. I suppose I may be thankful," she went on ironically, "that it was only your grandmother you saw last night. It might have been the Bat - and then where would you be this morning?"

  "I'd be stiff and stark with candles at me head and feet," said Lizzie gloomily. "Oh, Miss Neily, don't talk of that terrible creature, the Bat!" She came nearer to her mistress. "There's bats in this house, too - real bats," she whispered impressively. "I saw one yesterday in the trunk room - the creature! It flew in the window and nearly had the switch off me before I could get away!"

  Miss Cornelia chuckled. "Of course there are bats," she said. "There are always bats in the country. They're perfectly harmless, - except to switches."

  "And the Bat ye were talking of just then - he's harmless too, I suppose?" said Lizzie with mournful satire. "Oh, Miss Neily, Miss Neily - do let's go back to the city before he flies away with u all!"

  "Nonsense, Lizzie," said Miss Cornelia again, but this time less firmly. Her face grew serious. "If I thought for an instant that there was any real possibility of our being in danger here - " she said slowly. "But - oh, look at the map, Lizzie! The Bat has been flying in this district - that's true enough - but he hasn't come within ten miles of us yet!"

  "What's ten miles to the Bat?" the obdurate Lizzie sighed. "And what of the letter ye had when ye first moved in here? 'The Fleming house is unhealthy for strangers,' it said. Leave it while ye can."

  "Some silly boy or some crank." Miss Cornelia's voice was firm. "I never pay any attention to anonymous letters."

  "And there's a funny-lookin' letter this mornin', down at the bottom of the pile - " persisted Lizzie. "It looked like the other one. I'd half a mind to throw it away before you saw it!"

  "Now, Lizzie, that's quite enough!" Miss Cornelia had the Van Gorder manner on now. "I don't care to discuss your ridiculous fears any further. Where is Miss Dale?"

  Lizzie assumed an attitude of prim rebuff, "Miss Dale's gone into the city, ma'am."

  "Gone into the city?"

  "Yes, ma'am. She got a telephone call this morning, early - long distance it was. I don't know who it was called her."

  "Lizzie! You didn't listen?"

  "Of course not, Miss Neily." Lizzie's face was a study in injured virtue. "Miss Dale took the call in her own room and shut the door."

  "And you were outside the door?"

  "Where else would I be dustin' that time in the mornin'?" said Lizzie fiercely. "But it's yourself knows well enough the doors in this house is thick and not a sound goes past them."

  "I should hope not," said Miss Cornelia rebukingly. "But - tell me, Lizzie, did Miss Dale seem - well - this morning?"

  "That she did not," said Lizzie promptly. "When she came down to breakfast, after the call, she looked like a ghost. I made her the eggs she likes, too - but she wouldn't eat 'em."

  "H'm," Miss Cornelia pondered. "I'm sorry if - well, Lizzie, we mustn't meddle in Miss Dale's affairs."

  "No, ma'am."

  "But - did she say when she would be back?"

  "Yes, Miss Neily. On the two o'clock train. Oh, and I was almost forgettin' - she told me to tell you, particular - she said while he was in the city she'd be after engagin' the gardener you spoke of."

  "The gardener? Oh, yes - I spoke to her about that the other night. The place is beginning to look run down - so many flowers to attend to. Well - that's very kind of Miss Dale."

  "Yes, Miss Neily." Lizzie hesitated, obviously with some weighty news on her mind which she wished to impart. Finally she took the plunge. "I might have told Miss Dale she could have been lookin' for a cook as well - and a housemaid - " she muttered at last, "but they hadn't spoken to me then."

  Miss Cornelia sat bolt upright in bed. "A cook - and a housemaid? But we have a cook and a housemaid, Lizzie! You don't mean to tell me - "

  Lizzie nodded her head. "Yes'm. They're leaving. Both of 'em. Today."

  "But good heav- Lizzie, why on earth didn't you tell me before?"

  Lizzie spoke soothingly, all the blarney of Kerry in her voice. "Now, Miss Neily, as if I'd wake
you first thing in the morning with bad news like that! And thinks I, well, maybe 'tis all for the best after all - for when Miss Neily hears they're leavin' - and her so particular - maybe she'll go back to the city for just a little and leave this house to its haunts and its bats and - "

  "Go back to the city? I shall do nothing of the sort. I rented this house to live in and live in it I will, with servants or without them. You should have told me at once, Lizzie. I'm really very much annoyed with you because you didn't. I shall get up immediately - I want to give those two a piece of my mind. Is Billy leaving too?"

  "Not that I know of - the heathern Japanese!"" said Lizzie sorrowfully. "And yet he'd be better riddance than cook or housemaid."

  "Now, Lizzie, how many times have I told you that you must conquer your prejudices? Billy is an excellent butler - he'd been with Mr. Fleming ten years and has the very highest recommendations. I am very glad that he is staying, if he is. With you to help him, we shall do very well until I can get other servants." Miss Cornelia had risen now and Lizzie was helping her with the intricacies of her toilet. "But it's too annoying," she went on, in the pauses of Lizzie's deft ministrations. "What did they say to you, Lizzie - did they give any reason? It isn't as if they were new to the country like you. They'd been with Mr. Fleming for some time, though not as long as Billy."

  "Oh, yes, Miss Neily - they had reasons you could choke a goat with," said Lizzie viciously as she arranged Miss Cornelia's transformation. "Cook was the first of them - she was up late - I think they'd been talking it over together. She comes into the kitchen with her hat on and her bag in her hand. 'Good morning,' says I, pleasant enough, 'you've got your hat on,' says I. 'I'm leaving,' says she. 'Leaving, are you?' says I. 'Leaving,' says she. 'My sister has twins,' says she. 'I just got word - I must go to her right away.' 'What?' says I, all struck in a heap. 'Twins,' says she, 'you've heard of such things as twins.' 'That I have,' says I, 'and I know a lie on a face when I see it, too.'"

  "Lizzie!"

  "Well, it made me sick at heart, Miss Neily. Her with her hat and her bag and her talk about twins - and no consideration for you. Well, I'll go on. 'You're a clever woman, aren't you?' says she - the impudence! 'I can see through a millstone as far as most,' says I - I wouldn't put up with her sauce. 'Well!' says she, 'you can see that Annie the housemaid's leaving, too.' 'Has her sister got twins as well?' says I and looked at her. 'No,' says she as bold as brass, 'but Annie's got a pain in her side and she's feared it's appendycitis - so she's leaving to go back to her family.' 'Oh,' says I, 'and what about Miss Van Gorder?' 'I'm sorry for Miss Van Gorder,' says she - the falseness of her! - 'But she'll have to do the best she can for twins and appendycitis is acts of God and not to be put aside for even the best of wages.' 'Is that so?' says I and with that I left her, for I knew if I listened to her a minute longer I'd be giving her bonnet a shake and that wouldn't be respectable. So there you are, Miss Neily, and that's the gist of the matter."

  Miss Cornelia laughed. "Lizzie - you're unique," she said. "But I'm glad you didn't give her bonnet a shake - though I've no doubt you could."

  "Humph!" said Lizzie snorting, the fire of battle in her eye. "And is it any Black Irish from Ulster would play impudence to a Kerrywoman without getting the flat of a hand in - but that's neither here nor there. The truth of it is, Miss Neily," her voice grew solemn, "it's my belief they're scared - both of them - by the haunts and the banshees here - and that's all."

  "If they are they're very silly," said Miss Cornelia practically. "No, they may have heard of a better place, though it would seem as if when one pays the present extortionate wages and asks as little as we do here - but it doesn't matter. If they want to go, they may. Am I ready, Lizzie?"

  "You look like an angel, ma'am," said Lizzie, clasping her hands.

  "Well, I feel very little like one," said Miss Cornelia, rising. "As cook and housemaid may discover before I'm through with them. Send them into the livingroom, Lizzie, when I've gone down. I'll talk to them there."

  An hour or so later, Miss Cornelia sat in a deep chintz chair in the comfortable living-room of the Fleming house going through the pile of letters which Lizzie's news of domestic revolt had prevented her reading earlier. Cook and housemaid had come and gone - civil enough, but so obviously determined upon leaving the house at once that Miss Cornelia had sighed and let them go, though not without caustic comment. Since then, she had devoted herself to calling up various employment agencies without entirely satisfactory results. A new cook and housemaid were promised for the end of the week - but for the next three days the Japanese butler, Billy, and Lizzie between them would have to bear the brunt of the service. Oh, yes - and then there's Dale's gardener, if she gets one, thought Miss, Cornelia. "I wish he could cook - but I don't suppose gardeners can - and Billy's a treasure. Still, its inconvenient - now, stop - Cornelia Van Gorder - you were asking for an adventure only this morning and the moment the littlest sort of one comes along, you want to crawl out of it."

  She had reached the bottom of her pile of letters - these to be thrown away, these to be answered - ah, here was one she had overlooked somehow. She took it up. It must be the one Lizzie had wanted to throw away - she smiled at Lizzie's fears. The address was badly typed, on cheap paper - she tore the envelope open and drew out a single unsigned sheet.

  If you stay in this house any longer - DEATH. Go back to the city at once and save your life.

  Her fingers trembled a little as she turned the missive over but her face remained calm. She looked at the envelope - at the postmark- while her heart thudded uncomfortably for a moment and then resumed its normal beat. It had come at last - the adventure - and she was not afraid!

  CHAPTER THREE

  PISTOL PRACTICE

  She knew who it was, of course. The Bat! No doubt of it. And yet - did the Bat ever threaten before he struck? She could not remember. But it didn't matter. The Bat was unprecedented - unique. At any rate, Bat or no Bat, she must think out a course of action. The defection of cook and housemaid left her alone in the house with Lizzie and Billy - and Dale, of course, if Dale returned. Two old women, a young girl, and a Japanese butler to face the most dangerous criminal in America, she thought grimly. And yet - one couldn't be sure. The threatening letter might be only a joke - a letter from a crank - after all. Still, she must take precautions; look for aid somewhere. But where could she look for aid?

  She ran over in her mind the new acquaintances she had made since she moved to the country. There was Doctor Wells, the local physician, who had joked with her about moving into the Bat's home territory - He seemed an intelligent man - but she knew him only slightly - she couldn't call a busy Doctor away from his patients to investigate something which might only prove to be a mare's-nest. The boys Dale had met at the country club - "Humph!" she sniffed, "I'd rather trust my gumption than any of theirs." The logical person to call on, of course, was Richard Fleming, Courtleigh Fleming's nephew and heir, who had rented her the house. He lived at the country club - she could probably reach him now. She was just on the point of doing so when she decided against it - partly from delicacy, partly from an indefinable feeling that he would not be of much help. Besides, she thought sturdily, it's my house now, not his. He didn't guarantee burglar protection in the lease.

  As for the local police - her independence revolted at summoning them. They would bombard her with ponderous questions and undoubtedly think she was merely a nervous old spinster. If it was just me, she thought, I swear I wouldn't say a word to anybody - and if the Bat flew in he mightn't find it so easy to fly out again, if I am sixty-five and never shot a burglar in my life! But there's Dale - and Lizzie. I've got to be fair to them.

  For a moment she felt very helpless, very much alone. Then her courage returned.

  "Pshaw, Cornelia, if you have got to get help - get the help you want and hang the consequences!" she adjured herself. "You've always hankered to see a first-class detective do his detecting - well, get one - or decide
to do the job yourself. I'll bet you could at that."

  She tiptoed to the main door of the living-room and closed it cautiously, smiling as she did so. Lizzie might be about and Lizzie would promptly go into hysterics if she got an inkling of her mistress's present intentions. Then she went to the city telephone and asked for long distance.

  When she had finished her telephoning, she looked at once relieved and a little naughty - like a demure child who has carried out some piece of innocent mischief unobserved. "My stars!" she muttered to herself. "You never can tell what you can do till you try." Then she sat down again and tried to think of other measures of defense.

  Now if I were the Bat, or any criminal, she mused, how would I get into this house? Well, that's it - I might get in 'most any way - it's so big and rambling. All the grounds you want to lurk in, too; it'd take a company of police to shut them off. Then there's the house itself. Let's see - third floor - trunk room, servants' rooms - couldn't get in there very well except with a pretty long ladder - that's all right. Second floor - well, I suppose a man could get into my bedroom from the porch if he were an acrobat, but he'd need to be a very good acrobat and there's no use borrowing trouble. Downstairs is the problem, Cornelia, downstairs is the problem.

  "Take this room now." She rose and examined it carefully. "There's the door over there on the right that leads into the billiard room. There's this door over here that leads into the hall. Then there's that other door by the alcove, and all those French windows - whew!" She shook her head.