XII
Somewhere on the East Side, beyond Gramercy Park and Irving Place, withtheir beautiful old houses; beyond Stuyvesant Square, once equallyfamous for the princely hospitality of its residents; still further onin that section which lies toward the river, where the women andchildren as well as the men toil unceasingly for the bare necessities oflife, where evidences of poverty and suffering are all about, and whichis commonly termed "the slums"; somewhere there, we say, in one of thesmaller tenement buildings, some months later, Miriam Challoner, onetime wealthy and fashionable woman of society, took refuge.
Within this new-found home--a nest consisting of two rooms--everythingwas scrupulously neat; but except for a small gilt chair that caught therays of the sunlight, and that seemed fully as incongruous to itssurroundings as was the woman herself, there was nothing in itsfurnishings to remind one of former prosperity. In a far corner of theadjoining room was a stove on which a frugal meal was cooking, sendingits odour throughout the small apartment--a meal that in former days shewould not have thought possible even for her servants. At the window ofthis room,--which was bedroom and living-room combined,--upon a smalltable was a typewriter, before which sat Miriam Challoner, clad in asombre dress that was almost nun-like in its severity. She was pale, andon her face was the look of a woman acquainted with grief.
She read as she wrote:--
"Now this indenture witnesseth,--comma,--that the said party of thefirst part,--comma,--for the better securing the payment of the said sumof money mentioned in the condition of the said bond orobligation,--comma,--with interest thereon,--comma,--according to thetrue intent and meaning thereof,--semicolon,--and also for and inconsideration of the sum of one dollar,--comma,--to him in hand well andduly paid----"
Suddenly she halted and fingered the copy lying on the table at herright.
"Twenty more pages--I can't do them now ..." she muttered half-aloud,and crossing the room unsteadily, threw herself upon the bed--a cheapbed that groaned and creaked as if it felt her weight upon it.
"... tired--I'm so tired," she moaned, as she lay there supinely forsome time. All of a sudden, she sat bolt upright in bed, for the soundof a timid knock on the door had reached her ears; but thinking,perhaps, that she had been dreaming, she waited until the knock wasrepeated, and only then did she cry out:--
"Well? What is it?"
There was no answer. A moment more, and she was at the door confrontinga man and a woman, both gaily caparisoned. They stood hand in hand,sheepishly, smilingly, the woman looking more like some guilty child,who was being brought to task by an over-indulgent parent. For a briefsecond, that seemed interminably long to Mrs. Challoner waiting for themto speak, they stood thus; and it was not until they called her namethat she recognised them.
"Mrs. Challoner--we thought--" they stammered in chorus.
"Why, it's Stevens," Mrs. Challoner broke in, at last, "and you too,Foster!" and the colour instantly went flying from her lips to hercheeks.
"Yes, ma'am," again came in chorus from Stevens and Foster, late butlerand lady's maid to Mrs. Challoner, and still hand in hand.
"Oh, Mrs. Challoner," then spoke up Foster, "what do you think? We'vegone and got married!"
"Married? Foster! Stevens! Why, yes, of course, you do look like brideand groom," said Mrs. Challoner, her heart for the moment sinking at allthis happiness; and then: "Come in, and do tell me all about it."
"Mrs. Challoner," quickly put in Stevens, as they came into the room,"she pestered me 'till I had to marry her--there was no getting rid ofher."
A faint smile crossed Miriam's face, and soon she found herself enteringinto the happiness of this couple, just as she would have done in theold days; and so well did they succeed in making her forget her presentposition, that she was actually trying to determine what would be a mostappropriate and, at the same time, a most pleasing gift to them.Absorbed, therefore, in her laudable perplexities, it was quite a longtime before she fully realised that there were but two chairs, a factwhich had not escaped the eyes of these well-trained servants, who stillremained standing in the centre of the room; and when, at last, thetruth dawned upon her, it was with the greatest difficulty that she keptback the tears, as half-coaxingly, half-authoritatively she prevailedupon the terribly embarrassed pair to occupy them, while she seatedherself on the edge of the bed.
"Yes, ma'am," resumed Foster, determined to tell all there was to tell,"there were about six men that I could have married as well as not--notlike Stevens, but big, fine-looking men, every one of them. But Stevenshere got in such a way about it, that I felt sorry for him, and I gavethem all the go-by for him. But there's one thing certain," sheconcluded with a sigh, "I didn't marry for good looks, nor for moneyeither, for that matter."
"You married for love, Foster, and that is so much better," commentedMrs. Challoner, revelling in their joy.
"I dare say," conceded Foster, "that I'll come to love him in time."
"Yes, ma'am," put in Stevens, eager to get in a word, "she bothered meuntil I finally succumbed, though my tastes were--well, ma'am, I mustadmit that I like 'em a little plumper."
To Miriam Challoner, it was indeed a treat to hear their good-naturedbanter. Presently she asked with interest:--
"What are you doing now, Stevens?"
"He's a _sho_fer, ma'am," spoke up Foster quickly with pride.
"A what?" inquired Mrs. Challoner.
"A show_fure_, ma'am," corrected Stevens with dignity. "She'll learn intime.... I'm working for Bernhardt, the brewer--a hundred dollars amonth, ma'am."
"Indeed! So you're a chauffeur, and earning one hundred dollars amonth!" exclaimed Miriam Challoner. "Why that's fine!" And a hundreddollars never seemed larger to any one's eyes.
Stevens shrugged his shoulders as he answered in an offhand manner:--
"What's a hundred----"
"A hundred dollars a month!" again sighed Mrs. Challoner; and fell toplanning what that sum would do for her.
Suddenly, Stevens broke in upon her thoughts, with:--
"What a cosy little place you have, ma'am!" And turning to Foster: "Ihope we can have just such a little place as this some day. It's great!"
"I'd know in a minute, ma'am, that you had arranged things," saidFoster, falling in readily with her husband's enthusiasm.
For an instant Mrs. Challoner shaded her eyes with her hand. The room,she knew only too well, was the very last expression of poverty, yetthese two had shown a delicacy and kindness that she had supposed to befar beyond them.
"But where's your manners, Foster?" suddenly demanded Stevens. "Surelyyou might put your hands to fixing up that supper on the stove! Do now,like a good girl ..."
"Indeed, she must not--and in that lovely gown, too--besides, there isreally nothing to do," Miriam Challoner quickly returned, for she couldnot bear to have Foster see what was cooking there.
"Oh, I'll be very careful, besides, it will seem natural to be doingthings for you," persisted her former maid.
"Yes, take a look at the roast baking there in the oven, anyway," saidStevens; and no sooner had his wife turned her steps toward the kitchen,than he quickly leaned over to Mrs. Challoner, and thrusting somethingin her hand, he said in an undertone:--
"She's treasurer, ma'am, and I have to account for every penny; but thisshe knows nothing about. It's for you--please take it."
In an instant Mrs. Challoner was on her feet, and putting the money backin his hand, she exclaimed:--
"Why, Stevens, I can't take this! Really, I have money ..."
For a moment Stevens's eyes wandered about the poorly furnished room,betraying his thoughts to the contrary. This was not lost on Mrs.Challoner, who immediately went on to explain:--
"Yes, Stevens, and I earn it, too." And she pointed to the typewriterwith a certain pride.
"I beg your pardon, ma'am," said her former butler contritely, returningthe money quickly to his pocket. "Only, don't let her know ..."
When Foster came back into the r
oom, they were standing over thetypewriter, Mrs. Challoner explaining its mechanism.
"Oh, what a fine thing it is to have an education!" exclaimed the youngwife, looking sharply at her husband; but her penetrating glance was toomuch for Stevens, and turning quickly on his heel, he proceeded torearrange the chairs.
"Hey, there!" suddenly called out Foster. "Why aren't you more of agentleman--where's your manners? Run along there, like a good fellow,and put some water in the tea-kettle!" Stevens lost no time in obeying;then drawing close to Mrs. Challoner, Foster whispered:--
"This is for you, ma'am, but don't let Stevens know, for he's as tightas a drum-head."
"But," protested Mrs. Challoner, looking at the other in astonishment.
"Please, I saved it just for you," insisted Foster, with a look ofdisappointment on her face.
"Really, Foster, I don't need it," declared Mrs. Challoner stoutly butkindly. "I can't take it. Some day, perhaps, I may need money, and thenI'll send for you." And then quietly changing the subject: "How freshyou look, Foster! And what a man you've married! There is no need to askif you are happy, for----"
"Well," said Stevens, approaching them, "we must be going now, forBernhardt will be waiting for us."
"It was good of you to see us, ma'am," said Foster, putting out herhand, just as she had seen the ladies do in the old days at the bigChalloner house on the Avenue.
"So you married for love," said Miriam Challoner, as they started to go.
"Well, _he_ did," conceded Foster.
"_She_ did, ma'am," corrected Stevens; and presently they were sailingdown the street like a pair of lovers "walking out" on a Sundayafternoon.
"One hundred dollars a month!" sighed Miriam, reseating herself at thetypewriter. "And they were going to give me twenty-five dollars--thefaithful dears!"
Once more engrossed in her work, she did not hear the door-bell, whichhad been ringing persistently. At the end of a page she paused and benther head low over her work.
"... for love," she mused, half-aloud.
Meanwhile, her caller, determined to be admitted, had stolen softly intothe room, though it was not until she stood beside her that sheattracted Miriam's attention. For a moment Miriam glared hard at her;she could not believe her own eyes; then, suddenly rising to her feet,she cried half-joyfully, half-regretfully:--
"Why, it's Shirley Bloodgood! Oh, why did you come! You must not stay,you must not see ..."
"Why did you hide from me?" quickly returned Shirley. "I have searchedfor you for months, and it was only yesterday that I learned fromStevens where you were, who, by the way, had orders not to reveal yourwhereabouts. You might as well have moved a thousand miles away, aseverybody thinks you have."
Miriam sighed weakly.
"It takes money to move a thousand miles away," she protested feebly.
"You are like a needle in a hay stack over here," continued Shirley.
"But why did you come?" Miriam kept on protesting. "Why, Shirley ..."
Shirley stretched forth her arms, saying:--
"And you didn't want to see me!"
"Yes, yes," cried Miriam, suddenly catching Shirley and clinging to heraffectionately. "Yes, I have wanted you to come so much, but I hoped younever would see this!" And she spread out her arms as though to exhibitthe room.
"What a poor opinion you have of me! Why, Miriam, if I wanted to seehandsome apartments, I need not have taken all this trouble to find you.No, indeed, I value your friendship too highly to desert you on accountof this."
And now the two women fell to talking about things past and present.After a while, it was Shirley who delicately broached the subject ofLaurie.
"And Laurie--how is he?" she asked.
Miriam's eyes kindled for an instant, but its fire soon died out.
"Poor boy," she answered, "he's under such a strain. It's a wonder hedoesn't break down. He's so good and kind through it all, too. He's afine fellow, now," she went on with great enthusiasm.
"Let me see," said Shirley, reminiscently, "his conviction was reversedon appeal, wasn't it?"
"Why, no; don't you remember that it was affirmed--affirmed ..."
"I do remember now. And it was that day or the next one that you ranaway from me, you bad girl, and I've never seen you since.Affirmed--affirmed," she mused; and then suddenly leaned forward andinquired eagerly:--
"Then how did he get off?"
Miriam shrugged her shoulders.
"I don't know," she said, "nobody knows; not even Laurie knows that. Oneday after the affirmance, the jail doors were opened, and he wasfree--that's all--and he came back to me."
"Surely Murgatroyd knows," said Shirley.
"Oh, yes, of course he knows; but we have never asked any questions. Whyshould we? I shall never forget Murgatroyd though--I remember him in myprayers. He was honest; he kept his word----"
Shirley smiled a grim smile.
"Murgatroyd, the man with a _price_! Well, I suppose it's just as wellthat there are people in this world who can be bought now and then."
"I have never forgiven myself," sighed Miriam.
Shirley looked up at her questioningly.
"You? What for, pray?"
"For blurting out in the court-room what I did when the jury foundLaurie guilty. Why, it was abominable! it was treachery! I had promised,don't you see?"
"That was clever in Murgatroyd," admitted Shirley. "He would have been afool to acquit Laurie on that trial. Oh, yes," she added, with a sneer,"he's clever, all right!"
Mrs. Challoner straightened up.
"Fortunately my outbreak did no great harm; nobody believed me."
"Except myself," observed Shirley, "and Murgatroyd!"
"Even Laurie didn't believe me," went on Miriam, "until--well, I don'tknow whether he's quite sure about it to-day. We never discuss thesubject, anyway. It's barely possible," she said, flushing, "that hethinks we spent the money long ago."
There was a pause that was a trifle embarrassing to both women. Miriamwas the first to speak.
"Murgatroyd is making a name for himself, isn't he?"
Shirley threw up her hands in indignation.
"Who wouldn't, with that stolen money to back him!" she exclaimedfiercely.
Miriam shook her head.
"He's doing good work with it. He's breaking up the organisation--theinside ring. I'm sure that the effect of his work is felt even overhere." And then she added vehemently: "But his best work will be overwhen he has succeeded in breaking Cradlebaugh's. When he does that----"
"After he downs Cradlebaugh's," interrupted Shirley, "if he ever does, Ihope he'll down himself. That's my wish for Billy Murgatroyd!"
"Murgatroyd is honest," protested Miriam.
Shirley smiled a hard smile.
"You mistake his motive, Miriam. He's ambitious--frightfully ambitious.Why even now he's planning to go to the Senate," declared Shirley; butshe did not add that it was she who had put the idea into his head."Think of Billy Murgatroyd's being Senator! He'll ask a billion the nexttime he's bought, instead of a million!" she wound up, scornfully.
"You forget," quietly but forcibly reminded Miriam, "that I stand up forMurgatroyd."
"Poor Miriam," sighed Shirley to herself, "she always was easilyfooled." A moment later, she exclaimed: "A typewriter!"
"I don't wonder at your surprise," said Miriam. "But it is easy work andI like it immensely. I work for different people in the neighbourhood,"she went on to explain. "A real estate dealer, one or two lawyers,it's----"
She broke off abruptly, for they were interrupted by a faint whistle.
"It's the speaking tube," said Miriam, tremblingly; but the next instantshe was in a little dark alcove calling down the tube.
Meanwhile, Shirley allowed her gaze to wander about the apartment;nothing had escaped her notice, not even the cooking that was going onin the kitchen.
"Somebody whistled up the tube," said Miriam, returning, "but I couldn'tget an answer. I can't imagine who it is."
Then suddenly for the third time that afternoon, the outer door opened;but this time it was thrust open with great violence, and James LawrenceChalloner came into the room with the stamp of the gutter upon him.
Shirley was dumbfounded. Quickly her mind went back to that afternoon,long ago it seemed, when he had come home after the tragedy. Then, it istrue, he was unkempt, soiled, but now ... and she asked herself whetherit were possible that Miriam could not see the man as he really was. Theanswer was immediately forthcoming, for Miriam went over and caught himin her embrace.
"Poor Laurie, tired, aren't you, dear?" she said fondly; and thenturning toward the girl: "Here's an old friend of ours--ShirleyBloodgood!"
"So I see," he growled; and without more ado he turned to Miriam anddemanded gruffly:--
"Well, where's your money? I've got to have some money right away."
Miriam fumbled for an instant at her waist. She did this more forappearance' sake than anything else, for she well knew that she had noneto give him. Every day she had given him about everything she made.
"Yes, Laurie," she faltered, "yes, of course." And turning to Shirley,added by way of apology for him: "Such an ordeal as Laurie has beenthrough--such a strain."
Shirley was in a panic. What she had seen was enough to make herheart-sick.
"Oh," she suddenly exclaimed, "I have forgotten all about father! I lefthim alone--I simply must go now. You don't know how glad ..." Andturning to Challoner, she held out her hand to him. But ignoring hercompletely, he again said to his wife:--
"Miriam, where is that money?"
"Laurie is such a business man now, Shirley," said Miriam, smilingbravely at the girl.
But the contempt which Shirley felt for the man before her was too greatfor words; and she merely repeated:--
"Yes, I must be going now!"
Half way across the room she halted, hesitated for a moment, and thenfinally opening her purse, took from it a fifty dollar bill.
"There, Miriam," she said with a note of relief, "I have been meaningfor a long time to pay back that fifty dollars I borrowed from you a fewyears ago--when I was so hard up for money. I'm ashamed not to havereturned it before; and it's just like you not to remind me. There,dear, I've put it on the chiffonier; and now, good-bye!" And she wasgone before Miriam could even protest against her action.
For Miriam knew quite as well as did Shirley that there never had beensuch a loan between them; and rushing out into the hall, she called tothe other to come back; but Shirley by this time was well out ofhearing.
"She's gone!" Miriam declared forlornly, panting from her fruitlesschase.
Shirley's flight did not worry Challoner. He took advantage of Miriam'stemporary absence to steal to the chiffonier and to seize the fiftydollar bill. Miriam entered the room in time to see him thrusting itinto his pocket, and cried out angrily:--
"Laurie, I wish you to put that back! We are not thieves; it does notbelong to us; and I'm going to send it back to Shirley."
Challoner grinned.
"What do you think I am?" he finally asked. "A fool?"
He tried to pass her; she blocked his way, and repeated:--
"I want you to put that back!"
"I have got to have some money," he maintained sulkily, stowing it stillfurther in his trousers pocket.
"Give me that fifty dollar bill, I say!" went on Miriam, clutching athim.
"No, I will not!" returned her husband, stubbornly, and sought toescape; but she caught him by the arm and pulled him back. He tried towrench himself away; but for once her strength was superior to his. Shewas beside herself with sudden anger, with shame, with ignominy, withagony.
"You give that bill to me!" she said through her closed teeth.
"You let me go!" he growled, almost jerking himself out of her grasp.Then followed a struggle that was short, sharp but decisive, inasmuch ashe finally succeeded in wrenching himself free from her. And now,turning quickly, he smote her with his clenched hand full in the face.
Miriam staggered back; her eyes opened wide in humiliated astonishment.
"Oh! Laurie!" she cried, not with physical pain, although there upon herface, now red, now white, was a broad, blotched mark--the bruise thatthe brute had left there.
He made a movement to go; but again she was in time to prevent him; forquick as a flash she had darted to the chiffonier, opened the top drawerand drawn forth a weapon.
"Stop!" she cried in a hard voice. "Don't you dare to leave this roomwith that money!"
Challoner blinked at her stupidly.
"What are you going to do?" he demanded.
Miriam laughed hysterically.
"What am I going to do? I know what you're going to do! You're going tobring that fifty dollars back here to me!"
"Indeed? Well I'm not!" reiterated Challoner.
Miriam tapped the pistol in her hand.
"Do you see this?"
He grunted fearlessly.
"Well, what of it?"
"Give me that money," she insisted, approaching him. As yet she had notlevelled the weapon; and Challoner, seeing his opportunity, started oncemore.
"_Stop!_" It was a new voice that spoke now: the blow that had struckher face had suddenly transformed her into a desperate woman.
Challoner stopped; for he saw the weapon trained upon him. Again,without affecting her aim, she tapped it.
"Listen to me!" she cried, her voice growing hoarser as she went on,"this thing has been responsible for one murder, and now, LawrenceChalloner, I'm going to kill you with it. It's the last straw thatbreaks the camel's back. I hate you! I despise you!" she raged. "I lovedyou once, I have always loved you until now; you loved me once, too, Iknow--though other people thought that you had married me for my money.But I knew different--you couldn't fool me about that! And it wasbecause of that love that I have lived for you and nothing else. Youhave been everything in the world to me--my god, almost. But it is allover now! I'm through with you, and I'm going to have you thrown likesome soiled rag into the gutters of humanity--where you belong!"
She paused for breath, but not once did her weapon falter.
"There are two things," she resumed, "that stand out in my memory justnow. The first is the night when you did not come home! Do you rememberthat night?--No--there were too many of them later on! But I have neverforgotten that night I spent in the torture chamber! It was a whitenight for me."
Again she paused, and her voice deepened as she said:--
"Lawrence Challoner, the time will come when you will wail and whine andwonder why I don't come to you--why it is not my footsteps that youhear! But you will wait for me through a long, long night, and I shallnever come....
"Oh, it does me good when I recall the day that Prosecutor Murgatroydtold those twelve men the kind of a man you were," she declaredscornfully. "It does me good, too, to recall how you writhed under thelash and quivered when he cut you to the quick. But now I'm going to domore to you than you ever did to me--more than Murgatroyd did toyou...."
She stopped, and then went on mercilessly:--
"I'm going to tear your soul out--yes, you've got a soul, or I wouldnever have gone down into the depths with you! But now I'm throughserving you without receiving so much as a smile," she continuedfiercely, her body swaying, but her aim still true. "I don't ask for myrights or my just dues; a smile and a kind word now and then is all Iask. My pride is not all gone; I'd like to be proud of you just once. Ilie about you to my friends--to my dearest friends--and you convict mewith the miserable truth! I clung to you through all your vices, I clungto you even when you killed, I clung to you because I knew thatsomewhere within you there was something that clamoured for me, thatclung to my affection. But feeble as it was, it is dead now. And you arethe shell, the ugly hulk, a thing without the soul that I cared for! ButI'm through with you--I'm going to kill you--don't you move--I'm throughwith you--through--" The next moment she dropped the weapon, and it fellclattering to the floor.
"No, no," she cried, apparently calm now. "I won't kill you--I wouldn'tbe guilty of such a thing. You're not worth it," she burst out into awild laugh. "You're not worth it--no--no--no--" she cried, trailing offinto hysteria.
At that instant Shirley Bloodgood once more entered the room. Someinstinct had brought her back again.
"Miriam!" she exclaimed.
Miriam burst forth into another wild laugh, and then threw herself intothe arms of the girl, where she lay unconscious for some moments.
"She's fainted," said Shirley, glancing at Challoner, accusingly.
Challoner stood stupidly where he was for an instant. Then he thrust hishand into his trousers pocket and pulled out a fifty dollar bill, sayingin a new strange tone:--
"Shirley, I took this fifty dollar bill from the drawer overthere--you'd better take it--it belongs to you."
The girl took it wonderingly.
"I'll take care of her," Challoner went on, gently taking the form ofhis young wife from Shirley and holding her in his arms.
It was thus that Shirley Bloodgood left them; and as the door closed onher, Challoner leaned over Miriam and stroked her face and kissed heraffectionately while the tears rolled down his cheeks. That same nightshe was taken to a hospital with a raging fever.
The Red Mouse: A Mystery Romance Page 12
