Episode of the Wandering Knife

by Rinehart, Mary Roberts;

  There was no sign of Tony anywhere. In the back of the house the lights were out, but the kitchen door was standing wide open, and she ran frantically outside. Back along the alley the garage was closed and locked, and by the light of a nearby street lamp she could see that the car was still there. But there was no sound of the motor running, and she drew a long breath of relief. If Tony had only run away, and not…

  She was dripping with perspiration, although the night was cool. Her one fear had been that the girl had found herself facing an insoluble problem and had killed herself. It was still possible, of course. She could have made her way to the river, or there were a dozen other sickening possibilities. But in that case she would have had to dress. Had there been time enough for that? she wondered. How long had she been locked in her room?

  She never even heard the doorbell as she ran back to the house, and she only realized Aggie had admitted Fuller when he caught her by the arm and held her.

  “Why the hell don’t you answer your telephone?” he demanded angrily.

  She looked at him, her face blank.

  “Tony’s disappeared,” she said.

  “Disappeared?” he said incredulously. “Where’s she gone?”

  “How would I know? I’ve been locked in my room, and the policeman on the street probably went to the drugstore for cigarettes. All she had to do was to walk out.”

  He followed her up the stairs. The servants had roused Nina and she was standing in the door of her room. Dulled as she was by the opiate she had been given, there could be no doubt of her bewilderment.

  “Where could she go?” she was saying, her eyes staring in her white face. “She wasn’t even dressed, was she?” She caught Fuller by the arm. “You’ve got to find her, for God’s sake. Before it’s too late. Before she does something dreadful.”

  Hilda did not wait. She caught Aggie’s eye and went into Tony’s room.

  “You know her clothes,” she said. “Look and see if anything is missing.”

  But nothing was missing. Aggie inspected the closet and the bed.

  “Her clothes are all here,” she said, her voice flat. “But there’s a blanket gone from her bed. And her slippers aren’t here.”

  Hilda reported that to Fuller as he came in, followed by a terrified Nina. He ignored the matter of the clothing, however. He looked from Aggie to Nina, his face dark with anger.

  “The officer downstairs has been drugged,” he said sternly. “What do you women know about it? Did you drug him so your daughter could escape, Mrs. Rowland?”

  She stared at him blankly.

  “Me!” she said. “Why would I do a thing like that?”

  “Somebody did,” he said, his voice gruff. “Someone in this house. And someone has taken your daughter away. What do you know about that?”

  “I don’t know anything,” she said. “And I wouldn’t tell you if I did. At least you can’t arrest her now.”

  “We had no idea of arresting her,” he said, his voice grim. “We’ve got Herbert Johnson, Mrs. Rowland, if that means anything to you.”

  She looked even more pale, if that was possible. But there was no doubt of her surprise.

  “Herbert?” she said unbelievingly. “But what has Herbert got to do with this?”

  He was compelled to believe her. Whatever had been going on, at least she did not connect Herbert Johnson with it. He sent her back to her bed, to comfort a Hilda who for once had lost her composure. She was coming from Alice’s room, a small empty bottle in her hand, and she held it out to him, her face a frozen mask.

  “Sleeping tablets,” she said. “I’m afraid she’s taken all of them.”

  Fuller stiffened as he took the bottle and examined it.

  “How long do you think it is since she took them?”

  “It can’t be more than an hour and a half. She was awake when I left her. But I was locked in for a good while, and before that I was getting ready for the night.”

  “How many tablets were there?”

  “Plenty. If we don’t find her soon it will be too late.”

  Neither of them had noticed Aggie, standing by. The first warning they had was a heavy crash behind them as she fainted and fell to the floor.

  XIV

  No one paid any attention to her. At some period she must have revived and got up, have gone upstairs to her room and packed her clothing, sobbing bitterly as she did so. At some time later too she must have crept down the back stairs and left the house by the kitchen door. But by that time Fuller had been to the garage and seen the car still there.

  For once in his life he was thoroughly at a loss. Obviously Tony had not gone of her own volition. She had been carried away, wrapped in a blanket, and she might easily die before she was located. He had an idea what had happened, but that was all, and the likelihood that they could locate her before it was too late was small indeed.

  When later on he decided to talk to Aggie she was gone, bag and baggage.

  That Tony had been taken away in a car was evident, but the policeman who belonged in front of the house had seen none. He appeared as Fuller went down the stairs.

  “I saw the lights on,” he said. “Is anything wrong, sir?”

  “Only a kidnapping,” Fuller said shortly. “A girl’s been stolen out of this house, the nurse was locked in her room and you weren’t around. Where the hell were you?”

  He looked astonished. He had heard a window break somewhere near, he said, and saw a man running down the street. He had followed him for two or three blocks, but he was pretty fast. He had lost him near the bus stop.

  “Funny thing, sir,” he said. “He could have dodged into any of the places around here and got away. He didn’t. He—just kept going.”

  He had no description of him, except that from the way he ran, he was young. And that he was without a hat. Kind of a light-colored suit, he thought. As to the broken window, he’d located it across the street and notified the family.

  Fuller went into the library. The young guard was sitting rather dazedly on the couch in the library.

  “I don’t know what happened to me,” he said, his voice shaken. “I got sleepy all at once. I couldn’t even stand up. I came in here and—well, that’s all I remember. I just passed out.”

  Fuller’s face was grim as he turned to see a stiff-faced Hilda pushing Stella down the stairs.

  Stella looked frightened. Her thin body was trembling.

  “It’s about Aggie,” she said. “She didn’t take a bath.”

  “What the hell’s that got to do with it?”

  “She said she was. I heard the water running. But she wasn’t. She was downstairs.”

  “What Stella means,” Hilda interposed, “is that Aggie locked me in my room and turned out the lights. In that case she probably doped Price’s supper tray. You see what that means, of course.”

  “Are you saying that Aggie took the girl away?”

  With a magnificent gesture Hilda deplored the stupidity of all men, pushed into the library and picked up the telephone book. After that, with Fuller’s baffled eyes still on her, she dialed a number.

  “Hotel Majestic?” she said politely. “Give me Mrs. Hayes. Mrs. Arthur Hayes. It’s urgent.”

  She waited. The room behind her was filled with faces: Fuller’s, Nina’s, Stella’s, the two police officers’. So far as she was concerned they were not there.

  “Mrs. Hayes?” she said. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but it’s important. Have you a car in town?”

  Mrs. Hayes’s voice, surprised and not too pleasant, could be heard by everyone.

  “In town? No. What on earth … Is it Johnny? Has he had an accident?”

  “I imagine he’s quite well,” Hilda said, rapidly but still politely. “What sort of car is it, Mrs. Hayes?”

  “A black limousine. But I don’t really see—”

  “Do you mind giving me the number of the license? And your home telephone too. We want to call up and see if it’s there. A
nd hurry, please. It’s a matter of life and death.”

  But Mrs. Hayes was firm. She was giving no information until she knew what the trouble was, and Fuller—finally seeing the light—took the phone himself, using his best authoritative manner.

  “This is Inspector Fuller of the Police Department,” he said. “Please give me the license number of the car at once. I think it’s been used to kidnap Tony Rowland. If it goes over the state line it’s a capital offense.”

  “Johnny?” she gasped. “You mean Johnny has done that?”

  “It looks like it.”

  Her reaction surprised him. She was indignant and terrified.

  “You can’t mean he is going to marry her? It’s impossible. It’s dreadful. You must find him, Inspector.”

  “I’ve got to find him, and soon. Or the charge may be murder.”

  She gasped for breath, but she gave both numbers, and at Hilda’s suggestion the location of the summer place in Massachusetts. “But he can’t go there,” she protested. “It’s closed. There’s nobody there.”

  “There might be an excellent reason,” he said drily, and put down the receiver. After that he spent a busy quarter of an hour over the phone. He augmented his earlier orders with the license number of the car, and after a long wait Mr. Hayes in Connecticut reported the limousine gone.

  “The chauffeur says a sergeant—a young fellow—came here late this afternoon with a note from my son John. He wanted to borrow the car for overnight. As I use a coupe myself he let it go. What’s wrong? John in trouble about it?”

  “Very definitely,” said Fuller, and put down the receiver.

  By the time they looked for her, Aggie was gone, sitting red-eyed and terrified in a jolting bus. She had nowhere to go, after thirty years in the Rowland house. When the bus reached the end of the line she was still there. The driver looked back at her.

  “What’s the idea?” he said. “Just taking a ride?”

  She said nothing. At the end of the trip she was back where she had started, and she picked up her bag automatically and got out She walked doggedly back to the house and up the stairs, to confront a Hilda remarkable in her dressing gown and magnificent in her fury. Aggie did not give her a chance to speak.

  “It was to be only for a minute, Miss Adams. Just long enough to get her out,” she sobbed, her heavy shoulders shaking. “How could I know?” she protested, tears rolling down her cheeks. “He called me on the telephone this afternoon. He didn’t want her to be arrested. He knew she didn’t do it. All he wanted was to get her away until they found out who killed Miss Alice.”

  “So you locked my door. You doped that guard downstairs, too. Where were you when he carried her out?”

  “Up in my room. I was to wait and when the car drove off in the alley I was to unlock your door again. I didn’t mean any harm. I was trying to help.”

  “Help her to die, you mean,” Hilda said bitterly. “If they don’t find her in time that’s what will happen, Aggie. Think that over. Then go up to your room and pray. She needs it.”

  It was some time before she went downstairs again. Fuller was once more hanging up the receiver, after issuing orders, statewide and including nearby states as well, to pick up any car answering the vague description he had, and containing a girl, probably asleep and wrapped in a dark blanket. It was pretty hopeless, he knew. Tony might be on the floor in the back of the car, or the car might already be garaged and hidden somewhere. But it was a fight against time. Something had to be done.

  When he turned from the telephone he surveyed Hilda with his usual mixture of pride and irritation. He did not notice that she looked on the verge of collapse.

  “The Honolulu message is in,” he said. “Johnson’s wanted for murder out there. Nothing on the sister yet. Your hunch was good, Hilda.”

  She still said nothing. There was, as a matter of fact, no time for her to say anything. A car drove up to the curb, and two young men got out. One of them carried a figure wrapped in a dark blanket. The other ran ahead and rang the bell. Both men were in uniform, one of them a sergeant, and it was Johnny Hayes who brought Tony into the house, a Johnny pale to the lips and visibly shaking.

  “Look, for God’s sake!” he said hoarsely. “We can’t wake her up. There’s something wrong.”

  He attempted to carry her up the stairs, but Fuller blocked the way.

  “Get her back into the car, you young fool!” he shouted. “She’s had a poisonous dose of sleeping tablets. The hospital’s not far. You two damned idiots may have killed her.”

  They did not resent it. They were scared and pitiful. They did not even notice Hilda—still in dressing gown and slippers—as she got in with them. It is doubtful if they realized that Fuller was grimly telling them they were under arrest for abduction, or that kidnapping was a capital crime. The other boy drove while Johnny sat in the rear holding Tony, his face filled with despair. He spoke only twice. Once he said: “I couldn’t let her be arrested. I only meant to hide her for a while.” And again: “Who gave her the poison?”

  “She took it herself,” Fuller said grimly.

  XV

  Hours later, with a cold October sun shining into the hospital windows, Fuller roused himself from sleep in the straight chair outside Tony’s room. He felt stiff and hungry, and the sight of Hilda, in a borrowed uniform and a cap set uncompromisingly on top of her head made him also feel guilty.

  “See here,” he said roughly, “how about home and bed? She’s all right, isn’t she?”

  She looked worriedly at him.

  “She’ll live. I don’t think she wants to.”

  “She’s young, Hilda. She’ll get over it. And we have Herbert. Don’t forget that.”

  She looked up at him. He seemed relieved and self-confident She made a move toward the pocket of her dressing gown, then abandoned the idea. In an endeavor to cheer her Fuller laughed.

  “I don’t want a night like that again,” he said cheerfully. “Quite a plan those youngsters had, wasn’t it? The sergeant to break a window and call off the man in front, and Johnny to grab the girl. Then when it was all over to see the sergeant topple over in a faint! I hope to God the Army doesn’t hear it.”

  Hilda however refused to be cheered. She sat staring ahead of her, her eyes blank, and his gaze grew more intent.

  “What’s wrong with you, Hilda?”

  She stirred then, but she still did not look at him.

  “Nothing,” she said, and got up heavily. “I meant to tell you. got the bandage off Nina Rowland’s arm last night.”

  “And Tony had shot her?”

  “No. Nobody had shot her.” She reached up and took off her cap. “I’d better go home. I’m not needed now.”

  He felt confused as he took her down to a waiting police car, still in the ridiculous borrowed uniform, with her bathrobe over her arm. She had refused to say anything more, and he thought she walked as though she felt slightly dizzy. He was still puzzled as he went back to his vigil outside Tony’s door.

  To his disgust Johnny Hayes was there again, prowling the hall, with a face which needed a shave and could have stood a washing.

  Fuller groaned when he saw him.

  “Why don’t you go somewhere else?” he said irritably. “Get a bath and go to bed, for instance.”

  Johnny looked astonished.

  “Bed, sir?” he said. “I thought I was under arrest.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake!” Fuller said sourly. “Get out of my sight. Go and get some breakfast. Get that sergeant of yours and beat it. Let the Army take care of you. You’re its baby. Not mine.”

  Johnny made a gesture which threw the Army at least temporarily overboard. He stood in front of Fuller, rocking slightly on a pair of excellent shoes, and with his unshaven jaw set.

  “I’m entitled to some information, sir,” he said, not without dignity. “Why did she take that stuff? If she did take it.”

  “I imagine she blamed herself for her aunt’s death.”
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  “But that’s ridiculous!”

  “Not entirely,” said Fuller gravely. “She was sheltering a fugitive from justice, a man named Herbert Johnson. Alice Rowland must have found him there and threatened to call the police.”

  “It doesn’t sound like Tony, Inspector.”

  “I expect she had her reasons,” Fuller said, his voice dry. “Let her tell you herself when she’s able to. Now go and get some breakfast and a shave. And take that window-breaking sergeant of yours with you. I have other things to do.”

  Which proved to be more true than he had anticipated. For one thing when he was finally admitted to Tony’s room at first she would not talk to him. She looked small and young in the high hospital bed, with her shining hair spread over the flat pillow. But she only shuddered when she saw him and turned her head away.

  He sat down beside the bed and took her hand.

  “I’m glad you’re better, my dear,” he said. “It’s all over now. And you needn’t be afraid of Herbert anymore. He’s under arrest. It’s all right.”

  He felt her hand give a convulsive jerk. Then she said the only thing she said while he was there.

  “Why didn’t you let me alone last night?”

  “Let you die?” he said lightly. “My dear child, with a long happy life ahead of you, and a young man ready to break down that door at any minute! Don’t be foolish.”

  But although he tried questioning her as to the events leading to Alice Rowland’s death she said nothing more. When the nurse came in she was apparently asleep, her sensitive mouth set and her eyes closed. He went out feeling frustrated and slightly bewildered, to go back to his office, put his feet on his desk, and sleep peacefully for several hours.

  It was afternoon when the telephone wakened him….

  Hilda was alone in her apartment that night when he arrived. She had been sitting in the dark, her hands folded in her lap and her eyes gazing out at the roof and chimneys beyond the window. She was still sitting there when, receiving no answer to his knock, he opened the door and walked in. He did not see her at first. Then he made out her smallish huddled body and put his hat down on the table.