The Red Mouse: A Mystery Romance

by William Hamilton Osborne

  XVI

  A few days later, dressed in light mourning, Shirley Bloodgood for thesecond time in her life wended her way to a certain tenement house notfar from the East River.

  "Surely I cannot be mistaken,--this must be the place," she toldherself, groaning in spirit.

  In reply to her timid knock and inquiry for Mrs. Challoner, a littlegirl directed her to the apartment above, the door of which waspresently opened by a woman with full rounded face; and entering a neat,well-furnished, five-room flat, Shirley was soon seated at the windowchatting with happy eagerness.

  The young woman with the full, fresh, rounded face, it can readily beimagined, was Miriam Challoner.

  "You've been away more than three years, Shirley," she sighed, as shebent over a bit of fancy work. "It seems a century almost."

  "It hasn't seemed so long to me," returned Shirley. "Though when wefirst went west, I thought it would be nothing short of anightmare--waiting for an old man to die."

  "It must have been," assented Miriam.

  Shirley held up her head proudly, and answered:--"No, it wasn't, becausefor the first time in my life I really came to know my father. I thoughtI had known him long before, but I made a mistake. I never knew himuntil these last three years in Arizona--I found out almost too late."

  "I always liked your father, Shirley, and I think he always liked me,"was Miriam's remark.

  "Yes, he did. But did you ever stop to think," went on Shirley hastily,"why, my father never wronged anybody! My father was good--my father washonest! Oh, I could scourge myself," she declared sadly, "for the thingsI used to think about father. I even told Murgatroyd, once, that thoughI loved my father, I could never admire him, respect him."

  Miriam raised her eyebrows and protested mildly:--

  "You never told me that, Shirley."

  "No!" exclaimed the girl; "my friends don't know the worst side of me!My father a failure! Fortunately in these three years I have come tolook upon things differently--have come to know that he was a success,simply because he was real. Money! What is money? My father was a man!"

  Miriam rose suddenly and went over to her and kissed her.

  "I'm glad, Shirley," she said with feeling, "that you found it out. Iknew it always."

  All this time, Shirley had been watching with growing curiosity, thefancy work on which Miriam sewed so industriously. At last, sheventured:--

  "Miriam, I'm a regular old maid. I haven't been one hour in your house,and already I'm burning up with curiosity to know just what you'remaking."

  Miriam glanced a moment out of the window, then she answered somewhatevasively:--

  "Why, it's just a bit of embroidery...."

  But Shirley was not yet satisfied, and went on to protest:--

  "But what is it? Miriam, I must know...."

  Miriam Challoner hesitated for an instant, then holding up in the air atiny infant's dress, she said softly:--

  "Well, if you must know, why, you must."

  There was a long pause. At last, Shirley exclaimed:--

  "Isn't it dainty! Who is it for, Miriam?"

  Miriam raised her head and looked squarely into the eyes of her friend;the next moment Shirley had her arms about Miriam, and drawing her closeto her, she cried joyfully:--

  "You precious thing! I'm so glad, oh, so glad! But why didn't you say sobefore?"

  Miriam smiled softly.

  "I'm just a bit old-fashioned, I'm afraid," she murmured. "Nowadays,it's the thing to make such announcements through a megaphone from thehousetops."

  For some time, she continued to sew in silence, Shirley watching her thewhile. All of a sudden Shirley drew a long breath and said:--

  "Miriam, I wish I were happily married. It's the only life for a woman."

  "Yes, you are right," assented Miriam joyously, from whom had fled therecollection of all but the last few years.

  "I have always taken the keenest interest in the romances of others, butI want something more than a mere vicarious interest inromances--marriage. I'm a marrying woman," declared the girl, "and Idread the thought of being an old maid."

  Miriam laughed.

  "And yet they say that they're the happiest women...."

  "Oh, but a real woman is one who has a husband and children--" Shirleystretched forth her arms, as though to grasp all life withinthem,--"children to bring up; to wipe their noses and dress them forschool, and to hear them say their prayers at night. That's life! Itisn't pride with me; it's instinct." Miriam thought a moment. Finallyshe ventured:--

  "But you've had chances. There was Murgatroyd...."

  "Murgatroyd," broke in the girl, "is not my ideal. No, indeed, not afterwhat he did...."

  "Then, there was Thorne," persisted Miriam, "and Thorne may be UnitedStates Senator, too--he's forged ahead."

  Shirley laughed and flushed in turn. Presently, she said:--

  "I'll tell you a secret, Miriam."

  Miriam smiled.

  "We seem to be full of secrets to-day."

  "Yes," returned Shirley, "only yours is a respectable married woman'ssecret; mine mustn't be told ... Well," she confessed at last, "I'veseen Thorne since I came back, and----"

  "No!" Miriam ejaculated.

  "Yes! He proposed to me once more, and----"

  Miriam leaned forward eagerly.

  "You accepted him?"

  Shirley frowned.

  "No--if I had accepted him, it wouldn't be a secret."

  Miriam looked at her blankly.

  "Why did you refuse him?"

  Shirley seemed puzzled.

  "That's just what I want to know myself. I don't know why.... Somehow, Icouldn't marry Thorne."

  "Well, for some unexplainable reason, I'm glad of that," assentedMiriam.

  "Tell me about Murgatroyd," said Shirley suddenly, reseating herself. "Ihaven't seen him----"

  "There isn't much to tell," answered Miriam. "As a reformer, he's been asuccess. He's serving his second term as prosecutor, you know. It seemshe wanted to finish his work there."

  Shirley tossed her head.

  "Who couldn't, with all that money!"

  "He and Thorne," went on Miriam, "are rivals for the United StatesSenatorship. Things are growing warm, too, I hear; but it's only aquestion of a day or two now...."

  Shirley laughed, but her voice was hard when she spoke:--

  "He told me once that it cost over half a million dollars in this stateto be chosen Senator. Well, he's got the money, anyway----"

  Miriam raised her eyebrows.

  "He told you that?"

  "Yes--before he got the money."

  Mrs. Challoner deprecated.

  "Shirley, aren't you hard on Murgatroyd? He's a man of character in thecity," and she poised her needle in the air and glanced at the girl in aquizzical way. "I think," she went on slowly, "that I understandMurgatroyd. I think he's a man who could go wrong once, and only once."

  Shirley shrugged her shoulders. But whatever may have been her opinionto the contrary, she was prevented from expressing it by the sound ofapproaching footsteps on the stairs.

  "Not a word of Murgatroyd," whispered Miriam quickly.

  "It must be Laurie," thought the girl to herself, and sprang up like afrightened hare. The next moment the door opened, and Lawrence Challonercame into the room.

  Dressed in rough, clean, business clothes, he was as different from theChalloner of five years before as she could imagine. This man wasstrong, healthy, with a ruddy flush upon his face. He had the appearanceof being a bit heavier, but better set up. He looked solid, respectable.In fact, he looked so good that it was a willing hand that went out tohim in greeting.

  "Well, this is a pleasure that is a pleasure," said Shirley, smiling. "Ineed not ask how you are, Laurie, for you're the picture of health."

  "And you, Shirley--why, you never looked better," and he looked at hiswife for a confirmation of his words. "What have you been doing withyourself all these years...." The tide of his words receded there,
leaving his eyes stranded upon hers. The same thought camesimultaneously to them both.

  Miriam's happiness at their spontaneous greeting was good to see.

  "If I dared, I'd kiss you," Laurie went on, laughing good-naturedly; buthe compromised on his wife, who had been holding, all this time, the bitof fancy work on which she sewed. Suddenly she glanced down at it.

  "Oh," she said, conscience stricken, and running across the room,hurriedly thrust it into a closet. Challoner watched her in surprise;and when she returned, he put his arm about her and kissed her onceagain.

  "So much happiness," commented Shirley, with a pretty little pout, "andpoor me...."

  Challoner laughed.

  "Oh, we'll have to look after you, Shirley! I've got a dozen likelychaps down at the works--Americans, too. Real men, every one ofthem--men who work with their hands."

  "The works?" Shirley looked in astonishment, first at one, and then theother. "Oh, the selfish jades we've been--Miriam and I have talked aboutevery man in creation but you! Aren't you ashamed, Miriam? I am!" Shedrew up her chair, and settling herself back comfortably into it, turnedto Challoner and went on excitedly:--"Now tell me about yourself."

  "We've saved five hundred dollars," began Miriam, answering for him."And----"

  "Five hundred dollars!" interrupted Shirley, entering completely intothe spirit of things. "How did you ever do it?"

  Miriam turned to Challoner, and said with a smile:--

  "Laurie, do you remember the day when we had saved our first tendollars?"

  "Shall I ever forget it," returned her husband, devoutly; and turning toShirley: "The fact is, somehow or other I've made good--and done it infive years, too! But you don't know what it means to me, to us.... WhenMiriam went to the hospital that day, I started in--one dollar and ahalf a day----"

  "Yes?" said Shirley eagerly. "What kind of work?"

  "Tell her about your invention, Laurie," suggested his young wife withpride.

  Not waiting for a second invitation, Challoner immediately launchedforth on his favourite topic, Shirley listening with great interest. Buttoward the close, he said something about concrete and frauds whichinstantly caused her to interrupt him.

  "Frauds? What frauds?"

  "Why, where have you been that you haven't seen the papers?" heinquired. "The papers the world over, almost, have had something to sayabout this political expose. I was at work on the hospital job at thetime, and it was I who made the discovery that everybody connected withthe job was stealing cement: bosses, superintendents, inspectors,politicians, why, even I was invited into the ring. There was money init," he continued, "money for me--hundreds, thousands...." He paused,and then wound up with: "But, what good would that do me when thehospital fell down?"

  "Think what would have happened," interposed Miriam, "if it had beenfull of patients. It was good they found it out in time! It has to berebuilt."

  "But I wouldn't stand for the steal," Challoner went on, in hislegitimate pride. "Maybe you know the rest?" He looked up questioningly;and convinced that she did not, he proceeded: "I went to Murgatroyd; hedid the rest. I helped him, of course, by testifying, and all that sortof thing; in other words, I had to make good my accusations. But perhapsMurgatroyd didn't smite those chaps hip and thigh! You know what itmeant, don't you? It well-nigh smashed the ring! Anyhow, it has crippledthe organisation, and Murgatroyd did it!"

  "Good for Murgatroyd!" ejaculated Shirley; and then added quickly with ablush: "Good for _you_!"

  "Laurie's in business for himself," Miriam presently informed her.

  "No!" exclaimed Shirley. "Concrete?"

  "Yes," answered Challoner enthusiastically. "I've got a bit of areputation for honesty, now. People that want an honest job done come tome. Of course, for a time, the hospital scandal killed concrete to someextent 'round here; but there's going to be a quick recover. The troubleis not with concrete, but with men...." Challoner sighed longingly. "Icould swing that hospital job," he said wistfully, "if only I could getthe bonds and the cash with which to start me. But I suppose I have gotto stick to the small work for a while. However, I'm getting there,Shirley, and I'm proud of it, too. You'll begin to think I'm sufferingfrom exaggerated Ego," he finished with a smile.

  "Well," said Miriam in justification, "any man who saves five hundreddollars in so short a time has a right to blow his own horn."

  "I believe in giving praise where it is due," protested her husband. "Itwas you, my dear, who saved it."

  "I?" returned Miriam, who never seemed happier than when sacrificingherself.

  "Yes, by not buying hats like Shirley's, for instance," he answered,although he glanced at the girl in admiration.

  Miriam sighed with joy. It was good to be appreciated--good to have someone to talk with who could appreciate their struggle.

  "I won't deny," presently she said with a smile, "that it was rathertrying at times; but it was a work of love, and we've succeeded."

  Shirley sprang to her feet.

  "Lawrence Challoner, I'm going to kiss you--you're the kind of a man I'mlooking for!" And on the impulse of the moment she went over to him andmade good her word. "I'm proud of you," she went on. "You're the realthing--you're a success!"

  Challoner laughed as now he drew his wife closer to him.

  "They are like a pair of doves," said Shirley to herself; and thenaloud, as she started for the door: "Miriam, I'm going to fix up a bitfor dinner. I hope we're going to have a dozen courses, for I'mstarved."

  When the door had closed behind her, Miriam rose and started for thekitchen.

  "Miriam, girl," said Challoner, gently, "never mind about the dinnernow--that can wait."

  "I haven't much to do, anyway," answered his wife.

  "What have you been hiding from me for the past few weeks, Miriam?"presently asked Challoner.

  She looked quickly up at him and repeated:--

  "Hiding----"

  He pointed toward the closet.

  "What have you been putting away there every night for the last fewweeks? What is in that closet now?"

  Miriam Challoner hesitated. When she found her voice, she askedtremblingly:--

  "Do you really want to know?"

  "Yes," he answered in the same tone.

  Miriam stepped to the closet, fumbled there among some things, andreturning thrust something into his hands.

  "There," she said, blushing.

  Challoner held it up, looked at it a moment, finally he said, with justa tinge of suspicion in his voice:--

  "This tiny dress--what?" He looked at his wife stupidly, and after atime, he added: "Why, Miriam, you never told me.... A little child foryou and me?"

  "Yes, Laurie," she whispered softly.

  Challoner was visibly affected. For an instant he held the infinitesimalgarment up before him; then acting upon a sudden impulse, he cuddled itdown into the crook of his arm and held it there.

  "A child--for me," he mused, and suddenly passed the dress back to her,but as suddenly he held out his hands for it again, saying: "Give itback to me!" After a moment, he looked up and exclaimed: "I wonder if itis given to mere man to appreciate thoroughly the anticipation ofmotherhood--the hours that are given to fashioning little garments likethis, for instance! And yet it seems to me now that I could work foreverfor--" he broke off abruptly, quite overcome.

  Miriam was deeply touched.

  "Never fear, dear, there will be plenty of responsibility for you lateron."

  At that moment Shirley poked her head in through the door, and called:--

  "Miriam! Miriam, the potatoes are burning!"

  Miriam left the room hastily, leaving her husband still nursing thesmall garment in the crook of his arm.

  "A father of a child!" he mused. "It's good to be a father--a goodfather." Suddenly he seated himself at the table and buried his face inhis arms. For some time he remained thus; but when he raised his headagain there were tears in his eyes.

  "A little child for me--and I shot Hargraves
," he moaned.

  Just then Miriam came back into the room. At a glance she realised whatwas going on in his mind; and going over to him, placed her handaffectionately on his shoulder and with great tenderness said:--

  "Don't think any more about that, Laurie, it's past and gone. You're anew man, don't you see?"

  "I haven't thought of it for five years!" cried Challoner, fiercely. "Ihaven't dared to think of it--I haven't had time to think of it...." Hepaused a moment to pull himself together, and then suddenly went on:"But now I have got to think about it, if I'm going to be a father." Hesighed reminiscently. "Poor Hargraves, I can see him now, Miriam, as heput up his arm...."

  "Don't, Laurie!" she pleaded. "Don't! The forbidden subject--forget it,dear!"

  "I can't forget it!" he returned. "It's all before me now." He glaredinto space, as a man might who witnessed before his very eyes someconflict. "I can see it now, just as it happened----"

  He stopped suddenly, fiercely, caught her roughly by the arm, and criedin a loud voice:--

  "Miriam, Miriam, thank Heaven I have thought about it! Listen, dear--Ican see it now--just as it happened." He stopped and looked down at her."Can you stand it, dear?"

  "What is it?" asked his young wife, trembling with the horror of it all.

  Challoner gripped her arm with painful force.

  "I did not kill Richard Hargraves!" he cried in sudden joy. "No, I did_not_ kill him!"

  Miriam caught her husband about the neck and tried to soothe him.

  "Laurie," she said gently, "you're beside yourself."

  "No," he answered calmly enough, though evidently labouring under greatexcitement, "no, I know! I did not kill Hargraves! It's the first time Ihave thought about it. Five years ago everything was muddled--life was amuddle then; and on that night at Cradlebaugh's everything was hazy. Butnow, Miriam, it's as clear as day. I can see it--I do see it!" He liftedhis arm, his forefinger crooked significantly, and declared:--

  "I shot...."

  "Yes," she said eagerly, "you shot...."

  "I shot at Hargraves, but I did not hit him. It's all come back; I cansee it now!" And pointing toward the junction of the side wall and theceiling, he went on to explain: "The bullet lodged in the panel of thewall. Hargraves put up his arm like this--I meant to kill him and Ishot; but I didn't hit him. It was the last thing I remembered before Itoppled over in the big chair--that, and his starting over toward thedoor. I remember that. It's all come back in a flash. But I never sawhim after that."

  "Yet," she protested, "you confessed...."

  "Yes," he answered, "I tell you everything was muddled--life was hazy. Iknew I shot at him--I knew I shot to kill. Of course I thought that Ihad done it; but it's not so. I tried to do it, and then----"

  She caught him wildly about the body and cried hysterically:--

  "Laurie--are you sure...."

  "I know, I tell you," he answered, and hastened to add:--"Yes, andthere's another man that knows--Pemmican, that's the chap!"

  He stopped again and looked down at the small dress, which through allhis excitement he had _held_ tenderly in the crook of his arm.

  "I'm going to be a father," he went on, "and it's well that I didn'tkill Hargraves. But I have got to prove it--the world must know that Ididn't kill him. I must prove it--Pemmican will prove it for me--he wasthere."

  Miriam shook her head.

  "You remember his testimony at the trial, Laurie; besides," she addedsoftly, taking an old newspaper clipping from a small drawer of herdesk, "Pemmican is dead."

  "Dead!" His voice rang out in astonishment. "Dead! I didn't know it. Whydidn't you tell me?"

  For answer she placed her finger on her lips.

  "Why, he died in the county jail, not long after I was tried!" exclaimedChalloner, who was now reading the newspaper clipping. "Poor chap, theconfinement killed him, I imagine. Well, I never killed Hargraves, andI'm going to prove it, somehow." He leaned over and kissed a tiny bit ofruffle. "I'm going to prove it for you and the little one."

  "Laurie," insisted Miriam, quivering, "are you sure?"

  "I was never surer of anything in my life than this," replied Challoner."I tell you, it has all come back to me like a flash. It was you, littleone," he said, bending once more over something imaginary in his arm,"that brought it back to me."

  Miriam had watched him closely.

  "Yes, yes," she conceded, "it is true, I can see it--I know." Andsobbing, dropped her head upon his shoulder.

  "I've got to prove it," he repeated over and over again, patting herhead affectionately.

  "But--Murgatroyd--why, if you were innocent ..." suddenly cried Miriam.

  "Well?"

  "He ought to know it."

  "What do I care about Murgatroyd! What do I care about anybody but youand the little one that is coming--coming to you and to me!"

  "Laurie," breathed Miriam softly, "I'm happy, oh, so happy! I knew--Ifelt, somehow, that things would come out right. I don't care whetheryou ever prove this--so long as we know. Happy?" she repeated as shenestled closer to him. "I should think so, with five hundred dollars inthe bank and a small business, and after a while...."

  "The most important thing, now, is that I'm certain I did not killHargraves. That makes it easy for the next important thing--for you--mybaby--my little baby."

  Reluctantly he yielded the lilliputian garment to Miriam. There was aknock on the inner door that Miriam had closed; it was followed byShirley's entrance into the room.

  "I hope," she said gaily, little knowing what had happened, "that we aregoing to eat pretty soon, for I never was more hungry in my life."

  "The dinner will be an hour late," apologised her hostess, "but youwon't mind, I'm sure, when I tell you _why_."