She said immediately: "The answer is 'yes.'"
I said: "My mistress suggested that you ought to consult Mr. Marquardt before you committed yourself."
"I will answer for him," she said. "I have already spoken to him in a general way about the matter." She tucked the letter in her bag. "Tell our friend," she said, "that as soon as I have committed the contents to memory, I will burn it."
Mme. Storey called me up at the same hour as on the night before. I conveyed Mrs. Marquardt's answer to her. I have been too well-trained to ask questions, but I suppose Mme. Storey must have heard in my voice that I felt my exclusion, for she said:
"Have patience until Tuesday morning, my Bella. It will all be in the papers."
She asked me if I thought she would pass muster in her new rôle; and I tried to tell her what I thought about it.
"That was only a preliminary study," she said, laughing. "It will have to be better than that to see me through to the end."
"The end of what?" I wondered—but did not ask.
"I shall probably not call you up again," she said. "Don't forget Tuesday. And, by the way, my name is Jessie Seipp. Good-bye."
"Ah ... good-bye!" I said.
CHAPTER IX
THE NINE DAYS' WONDER
I spent a wretchedly uneasy Sunday and Monday. Towards the end of Monday, especially, my restlessness became almost unbearable. "By this time," I thought, "the happening, whatever it may be, has already taken place." After supper, while I was vainly trying to occupy myself with a book, I was tormented by the knowledge that reporters, pressmen, and everybody connected with the newspapers must know everything by this time, while I, who was so deeply concerned in the matter, was still in the dark. I knew that morning papers came off the press at two or three o'clock; but I could not prowl around the streets at that hour.
After a few hours of broken sleep, I was out in the streets soon after sunrise. The news-stand at the corner was not open, of course, but the morning papers were lying on the sidewalk, tied up in bundles. This time there was no need of searching through the paper for what I wanted. It was displayed under a two column head on the right-hand side of the front page. I caught my breath when I read it.
MRS. CORNELIUS MARQUARDT
ATTACKED BY WOMAN THIEF
IN HER FIFTH AVE. MANSION!
I pulled a paper from out the bundle, left three cents on top of the pile, and fled home, reading as I went.
I have the paper by me as I write; but to give you the whole account would encumber my story too much. It was a sensation of the very first class. Mrs. Cornelius Marquardt, the sacro-sanct, actually knocked about in her own home! The writers of the story seemed scarcely able to believe what they had seen and heard. The whole account seemed to be written with a gasp. With its introduction, summary, interviews, description of the Marquardt place, and history of the Marquardt family, it spread over column after column, so I will just give you the gist of it.
"Mr. and Mrs. Marquardt are spending the early summer at their place in the Pocanties Hills, before sailing for Europe on the 19th. Yesterday Mrs. Marquardt had occasion to spend the day in town, to attend to various matters. She motored in from the Westchester resort in her own car. Having finished her business, she had herself driven to the Marquardt town house, at number — Fifth Avenue, to obtain some personal articles that she had need of. It was then five o'clock.
"Owing to the extreme sultriness of the day, Mrs. Marquardt had already been impressed by the discomfort and suffering of those in the streets. As she crossed the pavement from her car to the door of her house, a girl who was passing swayed and staggered, and Mrs. Marquardt put out a hand to keep her from falling. The girl seemed to be about to swoon. Mrs. Marquardt looked around for her chauffeur, but he had already driven away to have his gasoline tank refilled.
"Mrs. Marquardt told the girl she would call a taxi to take her home, whereat the girl mumbled something to the effect that she had no home, and no place in the world to go to. Yielding to a natural impulse of sympathy, Mrs. Marquardt told her she could come into her house to rest until she felt better. The girl presented a respectable enough appearance, and no thought of the rashness of her act occurred to Mrs. Marquardt.
"Ordinarily, Mrs. Marquardt said, she would have rung the outside bell to summon one of the caretakers, but knowing that it would take him some time to reach the door from the basement, she opened the door with her own key, and led the girl in, meaning to give her a seat, and then call the servant. But the instant the door closed behind them, the girl straightened up, and crying out: 'Now I have you!' she attacked her benefactress.
"The girl had slipped a set of brass knuckles over her right hand unseen, and with these she viciously struck at Mrs. Marquardt's head, but that lady's hat and her plentiful hair protected her somewhat, and she was but partly stunned, She defended herself as well as she was able, meanwhile calling for help; but her cries must have been weak, for the two servants in the sub-basement heard nothing. The girl flung her in a chair, and yanking down a priceless antique Venetian embroidery from the wall, the vandal tore it into strips with which she bound and gagged Mrs. Marquardt. She then coolly proceeded to strip the unfortunate lady of her valuables; rings, ear-rings, and string of pearls. A pretty trifle of a beaded bag had fallen to the floor. It contained several hundred dollars.
"The girl, in her ignorance, thought that a house closed for the summer must be emptied of its servants, and with all the coolness in the world, she proceeded to saunter through the magnificent rooms, looking at everything, and picking up what small objects of value she was able to conceal on her person. Mrs. Marquardt watched her helplessly.
"When the girl disappeared up the grand stairway, Mrs. Marquardt struggled desperately to free herself, and succeeded in loosening her bonds sufficiently to permit her to crawl across the hall to the bell button, which she was obliged to press with her tongue. She kept her tongue upon it, until the two servants came running upstairs in alarm. These were William Beddowe, who has served the Marquardts for twenty years in the capacity of butler, and his wife, Sarah, whose position is that of second cook, when the family is in residence. The amazed servants quickly liberated their mistress.
"Hearing sounds upstairs that betokened the girl's approach, Mrs. Marquardt re-seated herself on the chair as if she were still bound, and the two servants concealed themselves close to the stairs. Thereupon, the unsuspecting thief almost walked into their arms as she came down. She had no opportunity to use her brass knuckles again. Such was the anger of the old servants at the outrage perpetrated on their mistress, that the girl was like to have fared badly at their hands, had not Mrs. Marquardt herself interfered to save her."
(I was staggered by the thought of this situation. It must have called upon considerable histrionic powers in Mrs. Marquardt to carry it off. I suspect that the whole elaborate plan was endangered at this moment.)
"The girl was first taken to the East — Street police station, where she gave her name as Jessie Seipp; occupation, laundry-worker. She refused all further information. Her bearing was defiant. Apparently she had not known the identity of her victim; when she learned who it was, she was apparently pleased by the notoriety she had brought on herself. She said that the brass knuckles had been given to her by a 'fellow,' whose name she pretended not to know.
"In order to serve the convenience of Mrs. Marquardt, who was naturally much shaken by her experience, and wished to return to her country home, the Seipp girl was immediately rushed to the Woman's Court to be arraigned. Court had adjourned for the day, but Magistrate Mahan was summoned from his home, and the hearing was held. It was brief. Mrs. Marquardt and the two servants told their stories, and the girl was remanded to the Tombs to await trial. The magistrate thanked Mrs. Marquardt for the trouble she had taken to appear personally against so dangerous a malefactor. So far as could be seen in court, Mrs. Marquardt showed no marks of the attack.
"Brief as was the interval between
the commission of the crime and the hearing, word of it had got about, and a great crowd thronged the magistrate's court in the expectation of getting a glimpse of the well-known society leader and the girl who had dared to attack her in her own house. On the stand, the prisoner, excited by the attention she was getting, dropped her reticence, and told her story in a theatrical way. She is a tall, finely-formed girl, with a bold manner; handsome in a common sort of way.
"'Sure, I did it,' she said. 'I don't regret it. I'd do it again if I got the chance. You gents think it's hot in here, don't you, with your handkerchiefs stuffed inside your collars. You think it's hot out on the streets, don't you, with folks dropping on every corner, and being taken away in the ambulance. Well, have you ever been inside a hand laundry on a day like to-day? I guess not. That's where I worked.
"'I worked in the Nonpareil Laundry, on East Tenth. There was two girls fainted there to-day, and sent home. One came back later, though she couldn't hardly stand. But she needed the money. When three-thirty came—that's the hottest time of the day, though we don't have no thermometer where we can see it, I suddenly said out loud, 'I'm done! If this is life it ain't worth living.' And I takes my outside clothes, and I walks out, leaving the girls gaping.
"'I walks up-town, where the rich folks live, I had the knucks in my pocket and didn't care what I did; robbery or murder. I been out of work, and I ain't got a cent. This town owed me a living, and I was going to take it, see? All them fine big houses so nice and cool inside, and full of rich things. And all shut up while rich folks was enjoying themselves at their other big houses in the country somewheres, and me without so much as one cheap hall bedroom, where I could lay myself down. I was planning how I could break into one of them soon as it got dark.
"It was just by chance that I run up against this dame here. I didn't know who she was. Not that I care anyway. She walked across the sidewalk with her diamonds and her pearls and her emeralds, and I saw she was going into the closed-up house there. What a chance I says to myself. If I could get her inside there, I'd have her dead to rights. So I made out I was overcome with the heat, and she fell for it.
"They told you what happened after that. I thought the house was empty, being all boarded up. Well, I don't care, I had a good look at the inside of it anyway. Send me up, if you want. I don't care if I get the limit. It'll be cooler up there than the laundry."
(I read this part again and again, picturing to myself the marvellous acting that had accompanied it. How I wished I could have been there to see it.)
"The girl was taken to police headquarters last night and questioned with a view to discovering if she had any accomplices. None of the men at headquarters were able to identify her, and her picture was not found in the records. It is believed that this is her first offence.
"Owing to the fact that Mr. and Mrs. Marquardt have arranged to sail for France on July 19th, the case will be put at the head of the calendar. It will come up for trial within a few days."
In the foregoing I have given you only the essential points of the newspaper story. The rest was mainly gossip of the sort that is dear to the hearts of newspaper readers. In the news columns a decent impartiality had to be maintained, but there was also an editorial, in which the horror of the public at this unexampled outrage was expressed in strong terms.
The public was excited by the affair, if one could judge by that small section of it which resided in my boarding-house. At breakfast time, a storm of talk raged from table to table, and all the little feuds were forgotten. But I doubt if "horror" was the proper name for the feeling that was inspired. That was just the official view. Certainly Miss Pruefrock and her cronies moistened their lips in undisguised pleasure over the case.
During the days that followed, the newspapers continued to play up the affair. Between the hearing and the trial there was no real news forthcoming; but they ran a gossip story every day to whet the public appetite. The familiar talk of a crime wave was revived, and everybody abused the police, as usual. The head of the Commissioner was supposed to be due for the official axe; but nothing of that sort happened.
I realised that all this publicity must be included in Mme. Storey's design. Gradually her object became clear to me. She was advertising herself as a bold and reckless thief, with a grudge against society, in the hope of thus recommending herself to the gang we were after, as a worthy successor to Melanie Soupert. The plan was stamped with her individuality; but ah! how dangerous it was! I could not bear to think of it. Yet I knew I should have to live with this fear for many days to come.
She remained in the Tombs for a week only. I did not hear from her during this time, nor did I expect to. The weather remained very hot, and my thoughts were continually with her in her cell.
If only I could have sent her a basket of fruit, or something of that sort; but it would have been most imprudent. Jessie Seipp was supposed not to have a friend in the world. I read that a young lawyer named Baugh had been assigned to her as counsel. Presumably he did his best, but as it has no bearing on the outcome, it will not be necessary to mention him again.
I need hardly say how I burned to attend the trial. I tried to argue myself into the belief that it would be safe to do so. There would be a big crowd there; surely I could lose myself in it. And anyway trials were open to the public; why should not Bella Brickley attend as well as the next one? But all the time I knew I could not go. For suppose Mme. Storey was successful in drawing our quarry; they would have their scouts at the trial; and these might very well include the dark foxy youth, and the big pock-marked German, both of whom knew me well. I considered going in disguise, but this was not safe either, without Mme. Storey to pass on it in advance.
So I had to be content with the newspaper report. I need not go into detail. As trials go, it was not much of a one, because the girl had no defence. But her picturesque personality lent a zest to the proceedings. She evidently enjoyed the affair. She had no hesitation in airing her rude wit at the expense of the prosecutor, and even His Honour himself. She was outrageously defiant. You see, I write this as if this Jessie Seipp had been an actual person, and indeed the whole affair was so wonderfully carried out, there were moments when I was almost deceived myself.
At one time the judge seemed inclined to send her as a first offender to one of the reformatories. This endangered the whole careful plan. But for some reason most prisoners have an especial detestation for these institutions, and it was therefore perfectly in character for Jessie Seipp to launch out against it. According to the newspaper report, she said:
"Send me to prison, Judge. That's where I belong. I'm past the reforming stage. Anything by the name of reform makes me see red. I'd be like a devil unchained in that place. Give me straight punishment instead of moral uplift any day. When you're in a cell you know where you are. Your cell is your own anyhow. But in one of them reformatories they never leave you alone. It's worse than the German army. They drill your soul to do the goose-step!"
She was sentenced to Woburn for two years.
I read in the newspaper that they were taking a file of prisoners up to Woburn on the train that left Grand Central at noon on a certain Saturday. Surely Grand Central was one place where anybody could be seen without raising the question of why they were there, I told myself; and there could be no danger if I took care not to approach the prisoners. At any rate I went.
I got there a little early. Every part of the vast station was thronged with vacationers, and I felt safe from recognition in the crowd. But I wondered how I was going to get a glimpse of my mistress's face without pressing up close to her. I placed the train gate through which the prisoners must pass. It was towards the left hand side of the great central concourse, and I saw that I could command it from the low balcony that runs across below the gigantic window.
I went up there. The balustrade was lined with people waiting for friends, or simply interested in watching the animated scene below, and I was not conspicuous. It was a strange si
ght. All those thousands at my feet were weaving in and out like the pieces in a kaleidoscope, but there was no pattern. No doubt each individual was bent on a purpose highly important to himself; but the general effect was of utter confusion.
I presently made out that a motionless crowd was gathering outside the train gate that I was watching. Many others beside myself had read that item in the newspaper. A hot little spurt of anger rose within me; mere curiosity-seekers, I thought; have they nothing better to do! This was perfectly inconsistent, of course, My nerves were on edge. I had had too much time to think about that case, and not enough to do with it.
Finally I saw the tragic little procession appear from underneath the other end of the balcony on which I stood. It circled around the foot of the great stairway in the middle, and came back towards the train gate. Something less than a score of women walking two and two, with two guards going ahead to force a way through the crowd, and others on either side. Each pair was handcuffed together, and all were trying to conceal it by carrying wraps over their joined wrists. Hundreds came pushing to gape at them with that soulless curiosity, one of the ugliest of human expressions. To men prisoners the crowd would have been indifferent, but at the woman they cruelly grinned. I don't know why. Some of the prisoners kept their heads down; some grinned back cringingly at the crowd. All that I could see were pathetically young.
My mistress, conspicuous for her height, was one of the first two. She was the focus of interest. It was at her that the fingers were pointed, and one sensed the busy whispers: "There she is! There she is!" She had on a dark suit and a little black hat with that amazing blonde frizz of hair sticking out all around. She walked along, untroubled by the stares of the people, her own bright eyes busy. Completely protected by the personality of Jessie Seipp, she was enjoying the novel situation. She was going to prison happy, while I was free, and perfectly wretched on her account.
MRS1 The Under Dogs Page 7
