The Red Mouse: A Mystery Romance

by William Hamilton Osborne

  XI

  "I came here again, thinking perhaps you might wish to explain youraction." The words came from Mrs. Challoner, who, unattended, had foundher way into the prosecutor's office.

  Murgatroyd quickly laid down his cigar. Doubtless he was annoyed, but inspite of himself he could not help admiring the pluck which she showedin coming directly to him; and as he came forward to meet her, he sawthat it was with difficulty that she kept on her feet. For a moment theyfaced each other in silence, yet in the eyes of each there was a look offearful misunderstanding. Again the woman spoke.

  "What have you to say to me?"

  Murgatroyd frowned, his bearing slipped off some of its deference whenhe retorted in a voice full of emotion:--

  "What have _you_ to say to _me_?..."

  The prosecutor's perfect self-possession and earnestness unnerved herfor an instant.

  "I--" she faltered and stopped before his scornful glance.

  "Yes, you, Mrs. Challoner. Do you recall our compact? Your silence wasthe essence of it. Why did you break it?"

  Miriam Challoner checked a wild desire to laugh hysterically.

  "But you broke it first!"

  Murgatroyd smiled.

  "How?"

  The woman looked steadily at him.

  "By this conviction!"

  "What was our compact?" he asked sternly.

  Miriam's courage was returning; it was with an indignant tone that shereplied:--

  "That you should set my husband free!"

  Murgatroyd tapped the table with his hand.

  "And have I failed as yet?"

  "Yes," she answered fiercely. "You have convicted him."

  Murgatroyd drew his head slightly to one side; pursed up his lips; drewhis brows together; and narrowed his eyes before he spoke:--

  "Did you assume for an instant, Mrs. Challoner, that I was such abungler as to release your husband at the first trial--for all the worldto know--to suspect? When I said to you that I would set your husbandfree, did I say--_when_?"

  Of the scene that followed Miriam Challoner never retained a very clearimpression. She remembered that at first, as if in a trance, she keptrepeating his last word, while by degrees its meaning stole in upon her;then of a sensation of being about to faint through mere excess of joy.Suddenly the thought of her temerity flashed through her brain--theenormity of the thing she had done; and she would have gone on her kneesat his feet had he not caught her in time. Quickly recovering, shelooked up at him. Somehow his face seemed to hold little resentmentnow--too little, in fact, to suit her surprising desire to humbleherself in his sight.

  "After all, she's rather a fool of a woman," his expression had plainlysaid to her overwrought senses, "and I will spare her." And yet shecraved so to hear words of pardon from his lips, that she broke outalmost breathlessly:--

  "You will forgive me--you must.... I have done you an unutterableinjury, I know." She stopped, and then with a sudden lapse to her oldair of fear: "Oh, but what will happen now--what will happen to Laurie?I have failed you; you have the right to ..."

  Once more cold and indifferent, Murgatroyd looked out of the window,though he interrupted her last words by saying frigidly:--

  "When I make agreements, Mrs. Challoner, I keep them. You may be surethat I shall keep this one."

  Still awed in a measure by his masterful personality, but with joy inher heart, Miriam Challoner started to leave the office.

  With a gesture Murgatroyd checked her quickly.

  "Mrs. Challoner," he said with reproof still lingering in his voice,"there is no necessity henceforth for personal interviews. In the futureif you have anything to say to me, kindly let it come through yourcounsel, Mr. Thorne. It is much better so--much safer. I prefer to dealwith him only."

  Miriam bowed acquiescence.

  Directly on leaving him Miriam Challoner went to Thorne's office. It wasin accordance with her promise to aid him in formulating the chargeswhich he was preparing against the prosecutor on her behalf. Thesecharges were for the legislature and the Grand Jury: on the one hand,impeachment; on the other, indictment. Now whether the accusation hadbeen true or false mattered little to Thorne. On the whole, perhaps, hewas inclined to disbelief; but Broderick, his colleague in theorganisation, was by no means of that opinion. In any event, since itcame from such an authoritative source--the lips of Mrs. Challoner--itwas a charge that possessed merit, inasmuch as it would injureMurgatroyd--and Thorne was not slow to recognise that. In consequence,then, there was, unmistakably, a note of gratification in the words withwhich he greeted Mrs. Challoner that afternoon in his office.

  "Here it is--in the form of an affidavit--just what you told me, Mrs.Challoner. Please read it."

  Trembling slightly while searching her mind for some clever way in whichshe might express her change of plan, Miriam Challoner slowly read thedocument. Nothing was left out, nothing exaggerated, and without a wordshe returned it.

  "Will you sign here, please?"

  There was no time to arrange any idea she may have had for new tactics:it was Thorne's voice that was insisting; it was Thorne who was holdinga pen for her and indicating the correct place for her signature. Andwith a violent effort, Mrs. Challoner braced herself for the first liein her life.

  "It's not true. I cannot sign it."

  Thorne started back. Instantly he was spluttering his annoyance at whathe considered merely a woman's whim.

  "Not true! Why only a short time ago you declared it was true."

  "So it was--but only in a way," she said laboriously. Her face burnedand paled. "I tried to bribe him, but----"

  "Bribe him! How?..."

  "With the money--the money I had left," she replied cautiously.

  "What have you left?" he ventured.

  Curiously enough, Mrs. Challoner found herself taking a certain amountof satisfaction in telling her lawyer what now was unquestionably true.

  "My home--only."

  "But that's mortgaged, I understand?" There was more than idle curiosityin the speaker's eyes.

  "Yes. But there's an equity of about twenty or twenty-five thousand,"she explained.

  "And you tried to bribe Murgatroyd with twenty thousand dollars?"

  There was no answer; and interpreting her silence as assent, he went onpersistently:--

  "And he refused?"

  Miriam was very white now.

  "He did."

  "I should think so," returned Thorne. "Two hundred and fifty would bemore like Murgatroyd's price--if he can be bought."

  "No, he cannot be bought," Miriam ventured with perhaps a trifle moreconfidence in her tone than Mr. Thorne liked; and then she added, in achanged voice: "I want you, please, to retract this story. I want totake it all back. I was unstrung, I----"

  "I will retract nothing," he cut in rudely. "Not a thing. Leave it as itis. If you begin to retract you'll get yourself in trouble. IfMurgatroyd desires to make a move, let him...."

  And with a promise to that effect, a hurried acknowledgment with aninclination of the head that she accepted his words as ending herinterview, she left the office, leaving him far from certain that PeterBroderick's appraisement of Murgatroyd's character was not a correctone.

  That night when the papers came out, people read them in anger anddismay; by the next morning they merely laughed; likewise the Court.

  "If he were bribed," said public comment, "it was a bribe that didn'twork."

  And Murgatroyd, submitting to interview after interview, reiterated overand over again to the reporters:--

  "I point with pride, gentlemen, to the conviction of Lawrence Challoner.That's all I have to say."

  The fiasco had helped Murgatroyd infinitely more than it had hurt him,Thorne felt in his inmost soul. For once the masses refused to believewhat on its face appeared to be true.

  * * * * *

  One evening a few weeks later, while Murgatroyd was dressing to dine athis club, as was his custom nearly every night, his
servant handed him anote which the bearer had said was to be delivered immediately. It wasbut seldom that a square white envelope came at this time, and with apardonable look of surprise and curiosity on his face Murgatroyd openedit and read:

  "I must see you. Will you come to the house to-night?

  "S. H. B."

  An hour more, and he was in Mrs. Bloodgood's drawing-room, waiting morenervously than he would have cared to acknowledge to himself for thedaughter of the house to appear. It was the first time that she had eversent for him to go to her, and he was conscious of some degree ofanxiety as to her motive. Clever lawyer though he was, he dreaded hercatechising, particularly so, because he knew that whether sheacknowledged it to herself or not, that it was at her instigation thathe had adopted the role which, with or without her approval, he was nowdetermined to play through to the end. The sound of a light step on thethreshold of the room checked his disturbing speculations, and he lookedup to see Shirley Bloodgood entering the room. As usual she did notpermit him to open the conversation after the preliminary courtesies ofgreeting between them.

  "Something very urgent made me send for you, Mr. Murgatroyd," she began,but her lips trembled so that she stopped abruptly after adding: "I wantto talk with you."

  An instinct told Murgatroyd that it would be a grievous mistake not toaccept without a protesting word the note of aloofness, the desire toavoid any suggestion of former intimacy that was in her tone. Rightly hetold himself that the slightest advances on his part would result inadding to her distress; that however much he would like to break downthe barrier that had arisen between them, he must bide his time andtrust to her emotional nature to accomplish that. And he was notmistaken, for presently an impulse to speak her mind at any cost tookpossession of her, and she burst forth:--

  "Billy, why did you take this money? Why?..."

  Carried away by the tender accents with which she pronounced his name,Murgatroyd essayed to speak, but she interrupted him.

  "Don't"--covering her ears with her hands--"don't tell me! I know youdid it--because I--I--oh, why did you listen to me! I thought I knewwhat I was talking about," she went on, while he sought control ofhimself by looking away from her; "but I knew nothing of conditions; ofmen. I thought that a man--that you could accomplish anything you reallywanted to do. But you were right. There are impossibilities. Iunderstand now--now that it's too late. I have had my lesson. Only a fewmonths ago you were honest, and now you are corrupt, and I alone amresponsible!"

  By the time she had finished speaking Murgatroyd had become asimperturbable as he had been at the trial, and there was only a hint oftenderness in the reassuring words that he now uttered.

  "You must not blame yourself--" he was neither admitting nor denying theimpeachment--"for anything I may have done."

  "But I do, I do," she cried bitterly. "And you must blame me. I alwaysthought Adam was a coward to cast the blame on Eve. But now mysympathies are with him--the woman was to blame then--I am to blame now.I gave you of the apple, and you--Oh, there would have been noapple--nothing but Eden if I had only listened to you and you had closedyour ears to me."

  "Eden," he said wistfully. "Yes, but hardly the Eden you cared for."

  Abruptly her mood changed. She lost all semblance of calm, and her voicerang with a scorn that, before she ceased, seemed to include him as wellas herself.

  "What do I care for success or failure! I could cut my tongue out fortelling you that my father was a failure. A failure! Why, I know thatnot only was he not a failure, but that he was really great! A man inthe highest sense of the word--and that's all I want you to be. I don'tcare an iota that you should be a senator--I don't want you to be asenator. I have sent for you to-night to tell you so--to stop for goodand all the thing I set in motion." She was silent for an instant; andthen suddenly with a quick return to gentleness, and with appeal in hereyes, she murmured: "I want you to come back--come back."

  In turn he murmured words that sounded to her like "to you."

  Shirley shook her head as though that were a thing out of the question.

  "No, to your honest self," she said earnestly but kindly. "To the BillyMurgatroyd that was."

  For a moment they looked steadily into each other's eyes. From the timeof Miriam's exposure of him in the court-room there had never been anyadmission, any concession on Murgatroyd's part. Nor was there any now;but unknown to himself, there was an air of appeal, not wholly free fromanxiety even, for her face was again showing signs of hardness as hespoke:--

  "I can hardly do that. I cannot stop. And if I should--where is theinducement? You have no apple to offer me; you are beyond my reach."

  And as if to disprove his own words, an impulse of adoration, toopowerful to be checked, seized him, and he caught her hand and pressedit.

  A brief moment only Shirley allowed it to rest in his, then slowlywithdrew it; and her action told him plainer than words that there wasto be nothing further between them--she was through with him--she mustdespise him. As an evangelist, as the good friend she had sent for him,but as lovers--no, that was all over. And yet, had she faltered once,had she but opened her arms to him, if only for the last time,Murgatroyd could not tell what he would have done. In all probability hewould have suffered exile--sackcloth and ashes for his huge misdeed.

  And the girl! Shirley felt, knew that there could be no compromise.Murgatroyd must purge himself, even though it involved a lifetime ofshame. And after he had yielded up his shameless gains, what then?Shirley did not know--she could not tell. But it was not given toMurgatroyd to know that he was the subject of her perplexities; norcould he read, as he should have, any hope in the words which she nowspoke:--

  "And if I am out of your reach--it's your own fault. If you had beenhalf the man I thought, you would never have listened to me. But younever cared for me, even though you said so," Shirley said, casting hereyes down, not daring to look him in the face. "What you did, you didfor yourself and not for me. You were weak from the start. Any man whowould surrender his honesty even for a woman is not a man. I see nowthat I ought not to have sent for you. I take back everything I havesaid." She paused, and then concluded with a little shake of the head:--

  "I wouldn't marry you now if you were the last man on earth!"

  Both rose to their feet. Habit, perhaps, rather than any regret for herwords, induced her to dismiss him with a tender expression on her face.And Murgatroyd bowed low over the hand she offered him, pressed it andwithout a word of protest went out of the room. With his departure wentout the last glimmer of hope that he would ever return to his betterself. Nothing could stop him now. As for Shirley? The moment the doorclosed on him she sank with a moan into a chair.

  * * * * *

  Thorne took an appeal from the verdict of conviction. He had beencareful to take exception to each bit of questionable evidence.

  "I think," he assured Mrs. Challoner, "that I have found more than onehook to hang a hat on. It looks to me like a reversal."

  "I am sure it will be," she replied.

  Her assurance was the same assurance that had sustained her in thetrial. There was still that mysterious something that Thorne could notunderstand. She seemed the incarnation of hope.

  "What do you think, chief?" asked McGrath of Murgatroyd, one day afterthe appeal had been argued.

  Murgatroyd shrugged his shoulders.

  "That verdict will stick," was his only comment.

  "By the way," said McGrath, "Pemmican keeps mum up there in jail; buthe's getting restless as thunder. He wants to know how soon you're goingto try him on this gambling charge."

  Murgatroyd smiled.

  "In due course," he returned, "but you can tell Pemmican unofficiallythat the quickest way for him to get on trial--or in fact the quickestway for him to get off without trial--to get out of jail, is to let meknow the name of the man higher up. I'm looking for John Doe, and Iexpect to keep Pemmican under lock and key until I get him. Youunderstand?"


  "He sure does kick," laughed McGrath.

  Shirley and Miriam and even Challoner watched the course of events withgreat interest. Miriam's mouth was sealed upon the question of thebribe, but Challoner absorbed what he had heard in the court-room, andhazy though it had been, he noted that Miriam's manner was stillhopeful, in fact, certain. Shirley, too, felt, rather than knew, thatMurgatroyd had removed from himself not the taint of bribery, but theviolation of his compact. She felt the thing was cut and dried.

  One day the Clerk of the Court of Errors and Appeals placed in the handsof a special messenger a document some five pages long. It was a carboncopy.

  "Take that to the prosecutor of the pleas," he commanded, "and tell himit's advance. The original," he added, "will be on file to-morrow."

  Murgatroyd received and read it with inward satisfaction. As he wasperusing it, Mixley rushed into his private room, and yelled in alarm:--

  "Chief! Chief! Look at this!" He, too, held in his hand a documentcomposed of several sheets of yellow paper, scribbled over with a soft,black, lead-pencil. "It's from the warden--" he whispered.

  Murgatroyd laid down his carbon copy and took Mixley's yellow sheets. Heread the first page and rose to his feet.

  "When did all this happen, Mixley?" he asked in a tense voice, withdifficulty restraining his excitement.

  "About an hour ago."

  "Who was the keeper that took this down?"

  "Jennings."

  Murgatroyd tapped the yellow sheets impatiently, and asked:--

  "How did he kill himself?"

  "Cyanide! Smuggled in somehow, nobody knows."

  Murgatroyd read the yellow sheets again.

  "Great Caesar!" he exclaimed.

  Mixley, still lingering, now asked:--

  "Any news from the Court of Errors and Appeals?"

  Murgatroyd nodded.

  "Here's their opinion--just handed down."

  "Reversal?"

  Murgatroyd shook his head.

  "No. Affirmed. By the way, Mixley," he added, "take this carbon copyover to Thorne, will you? He'll want to see it."

  "Shall I tell him?" faltered Mixley.

  "Tell him nothing," Murgatroyd replied. "Officially I know nothing ofthis other thing. I'll investigate it first, then I can talk to him."

  That very day, Thorne, disappointed as he was, sent a copy of theopinion up to Mrs. Challoner, without comment. Later over the phone hetold her:--

  "There is no hope."

  But Miriam Challoner was not downcast. She had doubted once; but now sheheld to her faith in Murgatroyd; she knew that Murgatroyd would keep hisword. Shirley, though, shook her head. She felt that Challoner wasdoomed. But when Thorne told her, she begged him not to tell Challoneruntil it was absolutely necessary.

  And also on that same day Murgatroyd jumped into a cab and rode off on atour of private inspection. Entering a large building he asked:--

  "I want to see Jennings, if you please."

  The next day he sent for Thorne.

  "Before making things public, Thorne," he said, "I wanted you to readthat."

  Thorne read with bulging eyes the yellow sheets that were thrust beforehim. Over and over again he read them; then he leaned over and touchedMurgatroyd on the arm, saying:--

  "Don't make it public."

  "Why not?"

  "There are political reasons--many of them," pleaded Thorne.

  "But it's bound to leak out----"

  "Never mind. I don't want it made public." Thorne seemed terriblyuneasy.

  But again Murgatroyd persisted:--

  "What of Mrs. Challoner?"

  "I'll take care of Mrs. Challoner," responded Thorne. "Just leave thewhole thing to me. I'll see that everything is done."

  "I'll go with you before the Court at any time you please," saidMurgatroyd.

  And that very day they did go before the Court. The Court opened itseyes and heard what they had to say.

  "Well, well!" exclaimed the Court.

  A little while afterward Broderick and Thorne sat closeted. Every crisisfound them with their heads together.

  "Broderick," said the lawyer, "this is going to hurt Cradlebaugh's morethan ever. The Challoner case has jumped from the frying pan into thefire." His grip tightened on Broderick. "This thing has got to be hushedup."

  "If it's got to be, it can be," declared the politician.

  "But there's the Court order?"

  Broderick grinned as he said:--

  "There's men has got to file it--men that know how to file papers soblamed far in the pigeon-holes that even a newspaper man can't crawl inafter 'em. They'll do just as I say."

  "Somebody's bound to find it out."

  "Not if I stretch out this hand," answered Broderick. "That there handhas covered a multitude of sins." He squinted at Thorne. "But there'sjust one person I'm afraid of in this thing."

  Thorne's nod seemed to say:

  "Murgatroyd."

  Broderick shook his head.

  "No, not a bit of it. You take my word for it, Murgatroyd will neveropen his mouth again on the subject of the Challoner case. He took thatcash--he can't fool me!"

  Thorne sighed:--

  "You think we're safe with him?"

  Broderick dismissed the subject of the prosecutor with a wave of thehand.

  "Mrs. Challoner is the fly in the ointment."

  Thorne, in turn, quite as vigorously dissented:--

  "You're wrong there. I'll handle Mrs. Challoner. If she ever asksquestions, I'll answer her with the right kind of answers. Don't worry,Broderick," and looking at his watch, added: "You'd better be about itand do your little part."

  "I'll do mine as soon as you do yours."

  "What's mine now?"

  Broderick held out his hand, and said:--

  "A little cheque, counsellor."

  And again on that very day the doors of the big building that Murgatroydhad visited opened wide. From them there stepped forth a man--no, fourmen--four men laden heavily. With these four men was a fifth, but he wasunseen. Between them, in the full light of day, the four men carried along, oak box, carried it quietly but swiftly, and swung it suddenlyinto a battered-looking hearse.

  "That's the end of him!" they said among themselves.