by Zenith Brown
There was only one thing I couldn’t possibly fit in. Mrs. Trent could never have walked as far as the spot in the dogwood copse where we found Agnes. She could of course have had an accomplice.
I don’t know how long I might have stood there, stupidly holding the letter in my hand, weaving that dreadful network of guilt around the woman behind me—probably still making up her flabby face—if Dr. Sartoris himself hadn’t appeared, suave and serious, and stopped in front of me.
“Is it as overwhelming as all that, Louise Cather?” he inquired lightly.
I looked up at him. He wasn’t smiling; he was deadly cool and unsmiling.
“Yes,” I said almost mechanically. “Yes, it’s very overwhelming.”
He calmly took the letter out of my hand and put it in his pocket.
“Thank you, Miss Cather,” he said. He bowed and went back toward his room.
My first impulse was to run after him and tell him what I thought. And then I realized that I couldn’t do that. I must find Lieutenant Kelly.
I turned and ran downstairs. Perry Bassett was on the landing coming up. I don’t know where he’d been all the time, except that I noticed his shoes were cleaner. He looked at me with a perplexed little frown.
“Are you ill?” he asked tentatively.
“Oh, no!” I said breathlessly. “I want . . .”
Then I realized that I mustn’t tell him either, and I ran on downstairs. “No, I’m not ill!” I called back up after me, and made a dash for the library door.
Lieutenant Kelly looked up and took off his horn-rimmed spectacles with ponderous deliberation.
“Calm yourself,” he said.
I realized later how funny it would normally have seemed. But I couldn’t be calm then. I told him what I’d discovered. He listened. When I’d finished he shook his head.
“Listen, lady,” he said. “Mrs. Trent’s a buzzard—she ain’t an eagle. She goes around and picks up what’s left behind. She ain’t going out and do nothing.”
He got up and came around to where I was standing, and put his big paw on my shoulder.
“Now listen, lady,” he said, patting me with a sort of rough kindliness. “I’m right worried about you. It’s that red head again. Now, you either got to stop thinkin’ about this, or I’m goin’ to pack you off home.”
“Why?” I demanded.
“Why? Well, I’ll tell you. You’re going to run into something, if you don’t watch out. Listen—there’s somebody around here that ain’t going to stop at nothing—you hear? Now, this job is my job, and I’d give a nickel if you’d never got your pretty red head in this business. Now, I gotta hunch that if you stay outa things, you’re all right. Will you, now? “
“I’m not doing anything,” I said.
“No, but you’re thinking too much, and there’s no telling when you might do something. You quit it. Forget about it.”
I had to laugh a little at the idea of forgetting it.
“Lieutenant Kelly,” I said, “will you tell me this? Do you still think Michael Spur had anything to do with it? “
He looked at me a long time, his white lashes almost concealing his shrewd old gray eyes. He went quickly and silently to the library door and threw it suddenly open. The hall was empty. He closed it carefully and came back.
“Listen, lady,” he said quietly. “Fil make a bargain with you. Fll tell you just what I think about that young fella, if you’ll keep what I tell you to yourself, and if you’ll go and stay with Miss Trent and do fancy work or jigsaw puzzles or something till I get things cleared up around here. Is it a bargain?”
“Yes. It’s a bargain.”
“O.K. Then I’ll tell you the low-down. I don’t think young Spur had any more to do with it than I did. I think somebody’s using this what-you-may-call-it . . .”
“Psychosis?”
“This psychosis idea to pull the wool over our eyes. They pretty near got away with it on account of Doyle being interested in psychology. If your uncle J. J. Kelly hadn’t of come on the scene, well, they’d had him in a straitjacket somewhere, and they all would a been sitting pretty—except the little gal. Then Hutton gets in somebody’s road. That branch of the red stuff was somebody’s idea of a joke, lady. Well, I guess Judas was one of the world’s best little double-crossers. And our friend Agnes wasn’t a slouch at it.”
I simply stared at him.
“Now you hold your horses, lady, and you’ll find out soon enough. And you can take it from me that the fellow that done this is nobody’s fool. And the Trent woman is. Now you run along and don’t forget that bargain.”
On my way upstairs to find Cheryl I realized that the sum total of all he’d told me was practically nil. Nobody but a too complete half-wit would possibly believe Michael Spur had committed those two horrible murders in an unconscious state. Nevertheless, when I got upstairs I saw there was a man sitting on a chair just outside his door. That Michael himself was in Cheryl’s room, as I soon found out, and that the two of them had their heads almost touching over an elaborate jigsaw puzzle of Washington Crossing the Delaware, seemed beside the point.
Cheryl raised a flushed face and bright blue eyes.
“Come in, Louise,” she said. “Michael’s got all of one soldier done.”
I looked down on part of a disembodied head of the father of his country, and Michael looked up with a friendly grin.
“You do his cape, Louise,” Cheryl said.
“That’s not a cape, that’s a cloak.”
“It’s not either, is it, Louise?”
There was a tap at the door.
“Come in!” Cheryl called impatiently.
The door opened and Dick Ellicott looked in. “Oh, hello; busy? I thought Yd get you to play a set of tennis with me.”
“Oh, I’d love to, Dick, but we’re just on Washington’s cloak, and I couldn’t leave. Louise, why don’t you . . .”
Major Ellicott grinned at me.
“Fine!” he said, and Michael Spur said, “That’s an idea!”
“I haven’t played tennis since last summer,” I said when we were going downstairs.
“All right, let’s not play. Let’s just talk. I’ve been hunting all over the place for you.”
Lieutenant Kelly was standing out on the terrace. He shook his head at me and grinned. Dick Ellicott and I strolled toward the lilac grove. It was a gorgeous day. Neither of us said anything until he said, “I suppose Cheryl told you she’d broken our engagement?”
“No,” I said. “When?”
He took a piece of note paper from his pocket.
“I got it before lunch.”
He held it out to me. I shook my head.
“I’m awfully sorry,” I said.
“I’m not,” he replied. “Not honestly. Cheryl’s a grand girl, but I don’t think it would have worked.”
“You’re lucky if it doesn’t make any difference.”
“Well, that’s just the point,” he said slowly. “It does make a lot of difference . . . to me, Louise.”
I don’t know whether I was glad or sorry when Perry Bassett appeared, looking very cheerful about something, and talked to us steadily until Dick looked at his wrist watch and said we ought to be getting back, if we wanted a cocktail before dinner.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
A yellow cab in the drive was in the act of debouching the gray and pink rotundity of Mr. Thomas Archer when Perry and Dick and I came through the opposite door from the garden.
“Oh, dear!” said Perry Bassett. “My sister thought he had gone for good.”
“I hope not,” Dick remarked. “Not while he holds the family purse strings still.”
Mr. Archer gave us the most perfunctory greeting. He wanted to see Lieutenant Kelly, and apparently he wanted to see him bad; and Magothy hastened to conduct him to the library with as much ceremony as if he hadn’t practically lived at Ivy Hill for fifteen years.
The man in the hall in front of Michael Spur’s roo
m was gone. I decided perhaps that meant Michael was in his room, since he’d been out of it while the man was sitting there. I went into my own room and dressed, and got to thinking—forgetting, of course, part of my bargain with Lieutenant Kelly. Somehow the business of Dick Ellicott seemed to complicate matters, and I wasn’t very happy about it. And the more I thought about it, the more unhappy I got; and before I’d finished dressing I’d decided clearly and firmly that there was just one thing in the world I wanted, and that was to get away from this awful place and get back home.
Something like a wave of nostalgia went through me—nostalgia, and relief at the idea that I could go home. I looked around. If I could get away right after dinner, I could take a night train up, and in the morning I’d wake up in the noisy peacefulness and safety of the Perm Station, and be hundreds of miles away from this nightmare of lilacs, and sunshine, and dogwood, and murder.
For the next few moments I acted more like a maniac myself than a sane woman. I got a lot of things together and got out my bags. I didn’t pack them, I hadn’t time; and furthermore, I thought I ought to see Cheryl before dinner and tell her I was leaving. I rushed out of my room and down the hall to hers happier than I’d been for a week, as if I were Atlas suddenly freed from the burden of the world. I didn’t bother about knocking even, but burst in. Then I stopped short. Mrs. Trent, in an incredible pink velvet peignoir, was standing over poor Cheryl, simply giving her hell! Cheryl, frightened and as white as wax, was crouched back against her dressing table. I saw Mrs. Trent’s face reflected in the mirror. It was positively livid with rage. She had a piece of paper in her hand and was shaking it angrily at the girl.
“You will marry him! I’m not going to have you ruin my life! I’ve waited years for this, it’s not going to be snatched from me!”
Cheryl’s eyes, catching mine, suddenly changed, and her mother looked up and saw my reflection in the mirror. She turned quickly.
“You talk to her, Louise Mather! You tell her she can’t do this!” she cried.
Then her wrath subsided like a pricked bubble, and she sat down, exhausted by the fury of her emotion.
“Tell her what, A4rs. Trent? “
“Tell her she’s got to marry Dick. I planned on it. I can’t leave her here alone!”
She sobbed miserably.
Relief and anxiety struggled in Cheryl’s voice. “But, mother!” she said. “You’re not going . . .”
“I’m not going anywhere!” said Mrs. Trent hastily. “But I want you settled. You’ve no right to go back on your promises. Your father’s heart was set on your marrying Dick. You ought to consider his feelings. You tell her, Louise.”
Cheryl looked at me and shook her head.
I spoke up anyway.
“Don’t you think, Mrs. Trent, that this is a pretty bad time to decide anything as important as that? I’d wait a little.”
“But I want her settled, so I can get away myself. You know yourself, Cheryl, I’ve been a virtuous prisoner in this house for six months. I can’t leave you here alone, after everything that’s happened.”
“Well, mother dear,” said Cheryl patiently, “if you have been a virtual prisoner here it’s your own fault. You can go. I can stay here—Louise will stay with me.”
I groaned inwardly.
“Well, I never;’ exclaimed Emily Trent brightly. “I never thought of that. So she can! Well, now? Maybe she’d like to move her room. You ask her, Cheryl. Oh, dear, I must rush and get dressed for dinner.”
She sailed out of the room as if nothing had ever bothered her in all her life. Cheryl, still white and shaken, sank down in a chair and closed her eyes. Neither of us could think of a word to say—at least, I didn’t dare say any of the many things I was thinking. After a few minutes Cheryl sat up and made what seemed to me a definite understatement of the case.
“Mother’s rather unstable,” she said simply.
I sat down and laughed until I cried.
I got control of myself after a minute, said “I shouldn’t wonder—I’ll see you downstairs,” went back to my room and put my things away again. All I thought was that I couldn’t leave the child until I saw what was really up—and incredible as it sounds, I hadn’t the faintest idea of what Mrs. Trent was actually planning.
Downstairs Lieutenant Kelly seemed to be directing all sorts of operations from the library. People came and went; and across the hall, subdued but fairly coherent, the family life of cocktails, dinner and bridge went on. The only allusion to the late unpleasantnesses was made when Magothy announced that Mr. Archer was having his dinner with Michael on a tray. Mrs. Trent had apparently not heard that he was back. She surveyed the room through the lorgnette and said, “I should think he wouldn’t eat with decent people. He’s a whitened sepulchre.”
Perry Bassett said, “I should think Michael would be the last person in the world he’d want to be with.”
It was one of the very few public speeches I heard him make.
His sister said, “You don’t know anything about it,” and that ended that. I caught Dick’s eye and looked the other way.
We were finishing dinner when Lieutenant Kelly appeared and stood behind my chair.
“I’m asking you folks to be careful,” he said. “I’m doing the best I can to protect you. One of my men’ll be on duty in the house tonight, and as long as I think it’s necessary. I’m telling you all that, so you won’t be scared if you run into him, and I don’t want nobody to shoot him by mistake. We’ll have everything cleared up pretty quick now, but I got to ask you all to be on guard.”
There was a thoughtful silence after that. Not even Dr. Sartoris seemed able to think of much to say.
About nine o’clock Magothy came into the living room and told Mrs. Trent that Mr. Archer would like to see her a few minutes. “I’d like to see him too,” said Mrs. Trent firmly. Cheryl, who had been playing double Canfield with Dick Ellicott, got up and went out with her. Dick came to our table and took Mrs. Trent’s hand. He and Perry took the next three rubbers from Dr. Sartoris and me before Mrs. Trent came back.
“Well, that’s settled,” she said, and sat down again; but her mind, never entirely on her game, was even less so now, and we broke up after a few hands. In spite of Dick’s masterful playing Dr. Sartoris and I were something like 98 ahead of her and Perry. Cheryl came back as I was saying good night to Mrs. Trent. She kissed her mother and Perry Bassett, and we went upstairs together.
I left her at her door.
“Michael’s terribly upset about something Mr. Archer’s been telling him,” she said. “You will stay with me, won’t you, if Mother should want to get away?”
“Yes, Cheryl,” I said. “Good night.”
I said good night too to Lieutenant Kelly’s man, sitting out in the hall in front of Michael’s door, and then went into my room. I locked the door and went over to look out the window. It was a lovely night; a clear warm moon made everything look just as if a hoarfrost had formed.
“She’s right,” I thought. “The whole place is a whited sepulchre.”
But I decided not to change my room. I’d got used to Queen Elizabeth’s bed at too great cost to give it up. In fact I’d got so I slept quite well.
I don’t know how long I did sleep. When I woke up, sharply and fearfully, it seemed to me as if somebody had taken a knife and slashed a great gash in the very fabric of sleep, and left me instantly conscious of some awful naked reality. It was still dark. I sat up in bed, trying to think what it could have been that had come and gone again. Then there came a high piercing shriek that ended in sharp utter silence.
I was out in the hall in a split second. Ten feet from Michael’s door Lieutenant Kelly’s man lay in a heap on the floor. No one was near him. I rushed over and touched him—his hand was quite warm; I could hear him breathing heavily. I ran to the end of the hall. A light sprang up there, and I almost fell over Dick Ellicott. He was lifting Cheryl Trent up in his arms. His face was white.
&nbs
p; “For God’s sake, Louise, get Kelly!” he said quickly.
I looked back down the hall. Dr. Sartoris was running towards us, and Perry Bassett behind him. I started down the stairs.
“Not there!” Dick shouted.
But he was too late. I staggered back. A great wave of nausea went over me, and I clung to the banister.
Half-way down the stairs lay Emily Trent. She was dressed for the street, with hat and gloves. Her blood had already dyed her white crêpe blouse a living crimson. But it wasn’t that. It was the spear, still thrust there, as a bayonet is thrust. In the corner of the landing stood the knight, his mailed hand still raised in its eternal gesture; but the hand was empty.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The rest of that night is a confused dreadful nightmare, in which Lieutenant Kelly’s grim face, drawn and gray, appears to me now, as I remember, out of the darkness of the lower hall. He had had no sleep the night before, and had lain down for a few moments on the library sofa. I remember staggering back upstairs and seeing Perry Bassett on his knees by the man on the floor.
“He’s been drinking,” he said.
There was a sudden shout down below. I ran back to the top of the main stairs, and got there just in time to see Michael Spur stagger into the downstairs hall, his dressing gown torn, looking ill and dazed, and to see Lieutenant Kelly’s men close in around him. I went on down. I remember telephoning to Mr. Doyle, and waiting for him and Dr. O’Brien in the foyer at the other end of the house. And I remember Dr. O’Brien coming downstairs again, looking rather white, and saying it reminded him of once when he was in Venezuela.
It was I who found the inert figure of Lieutenant Kelly’s other guard huddled under a chair in the dining room, a glass and a decanter on the table in front of him. I was there when Lieutenant Kelly came in, bent over him, and got up with an oath. “Somebody get that butler,” he said curtly. “Have him dose these men with black coffee strong as he can make it.” And it was I who trotted off towards the kitchen.
