CHAPTER XXI
MOLLY ENDS THE STORY
They all came back on Wednesday night, late, in the small hours. I had awire from Babbitts--and Gosh, as I sat up waiting for him I thought I'ddie right there on my own parlor carpet! For, of course, I supposedshe'd tell them what I'd done and he was coming straight home to divorceme.
First off when he came in I was afraid to move, then, when I got a goodlook at his face, I saw he didn't know. He was so crazy with joy andtriumph he didn't notice how I acted--trembly and excited about thethings that didn't matter. How did she get there--what made her go--werethe questions I was keen to have answered. Did it off her ownbat--recognized the voice on the phone--instinct--knew all alongsomething was wrong--and just rushed off without thinking of anything.She was a tip-topper--wonderful girl--seemed almost as if she wasclairvoyant, didn't I think so? Yes, I did, but maybe when it was yourfather you felt that way, and I sank back against the cushions of thedavenport, weak in the knees and swallowing down a lump in my throat asbig as a new potato.
The next day I had a letter from her that made me sick--gratitudebubbling out of every line--and saying she'd told Jack and how never, aslong as either of them lived, would they reveal it to a soul. That mademe sicker--the two of them down on their bended knees! I've lied in mylife, and though it's come back on me like a bad dream, I've been ableto bear it. But having two people like that ready to worship you becauseyou did something that you didn't do would take the spirit out ofTheodore Roosevelt.
Then came the great excitement, the case going to the public, andBabbitts' getting his Big Story. It made a worse uproar than the suicideand disappearance, the city was stunned and thrilled and everything elseit could be, and not a man, woman or child but was reading the_Dispatch_ and asking you if you'd ever heard of such an awful thing andenjoying every word of it. Babbitts' picture was in all the papers--anda _raise_, well, I guess so!
It would have been the proudest moment of my life, but who can be proudwhen they're full up with nothing but guilty conscience? Not me, anyway.Even when Babbitts came home Friday night with a set of black lynx furs,carrying them himself and putting them on me, I felt no joy. Can youunderstand it--having a secret from the one you love best, and notknowing if he knew that secret whether he wouldn't drop you out of hisarms like a live coal and you'd see the love dying from his face? Oh, itwas awful. I had to turn away from him to the mirror--getting up theright smile for a fur set when a rope of pearls wouldn't have lifted themisery off me.
Sunday Jack asked us to his place for dinner--just us two and MissWhitehall. All the way downtown Babbitts was wondering why it was onlyMiss Whitehall--sort of funny he didn't include Mr. George, who wasoften there, and even the old man, seeing it was to be a dinner of theHarland case outfit. I had my own ideas on the subject, and they made melimp, sitting small and peaked beside Babbitts, with my hands damp andclammy in my new white gloves.
It was a swell dinner, the finest things to eat I ever had, even there.Miss Whitehall, all in black with her neck bare, and Jack in his dresssuit, were such a grand pair I'd have enjoyed the mere sight of them,only for that terrible secret.
It wasn't till the end of dinner--old David gone off into thekitchen--that the thing I'd been waiting for came out. Jack's face toldme it was coming--happiness and pride were shining from it like a light.He'd asked us there--his best and truest friends--to tell us beforeanyone else, that he and Miss Whitehall were going to be married.
They looked across the table at each other--a beautiful beaminglook--and Babbitts with his mouth open looked at them, and I looked downat my plate where the ice cream was melting in a pink pool. Then Jackpoured champagne into our glasses and raising them high we drank theirhealths, and then clinked the rims together and laughed, and wished themjoy. It ought to have been perfectly lovely and it _would_ have been ifthat fiendish guilty conscience of mine could only have gone to sleepfor a few minutes.
And then came the awful and unexpected. I didn't think he'd dare to doit but he did. Turning to me with his glass in his hand, and his face sokind it made me melt like the ice cream, Jack said:
"And there's going to be another health drunk--Molly's. Molly Babbitts,the best friend that any man and woman ever had, the person who did thebiggest thing in the whole Harland case."
He wasn't going to tell--he knew enough for that, he knew that Babbittswasn't on, but he wanted _me_ to understand. I looked at their faces,Jack's with its grateful message, and Carol's saying the same, andBabbitts' red with pride and joy. _Then_ I couldn't bear it. Feelingqueer and weak, I sat dumb, not touching my glass, looking at the plate.
"Why, Mollie," said Babbitts surprised, "aren't you going to answer?"
"No," I said suddenly, "not till I've told something first."
I guess I looked about as cheerful as the skeletons they used to have atfeasts in foreign countries. Anyway I saw them all amazed, their eyesfixed staring on me. I stiffened up and set both hands hard on the edgeof the table, and looked at Carol. My lips were so shaky I could hardlyget out the words:
"You're all wrong--you've made a mistake. I didn't do it for you the wayyou think--I--I--" I turned to Jack and the tears began to spill out ofmy eyes, "I did it for _him_."
"_Me?_" he exclaimed.
"Yes, you. We swore to be friends once and that's what I am. I saw youwere going to tell her. I thought it would ruin you and I knew Icouldn't stop you--so--so--as _I_ didn't matter--I did it myself beforeyou could."
He pushed back his chair all stirred and pale. Carol, with a catch ofher breath, said my name--just "Molly," nothing more. But Babbitts, whodidn't know where he was at, cried out:
"Did _what_? For Heaven's sake what's it all about?"
Then I told him--the whole thing--out it came with tears and sobs--allto him, every word of it, with not a voice to interrupt, and when it wasdone, down went my head on the table with my hair in the ice cream.
Well, what do you think happened? Was he mad--did he say, "You're afalse, deceitful woman. Begone?" Oh, he didn't--he _didn't_! He got upand came around the table and Carol and Jack slipped away somewhere andleft us alone.
Afterward in the parlor, me a sight with my nose red and the ice creamonly half out of my hair, we talked it all out and they--Oh well, theysaid a lot of things--I can't tell you what--too many and sort ofaffecting. It made me feel awful uncomfortable, not knowing what to say,but Babbitts _adored_ it, couldn't get enough of it, just sat therenodding like the Chinese image on the mantelpiece, while those two finepeople sat and threw bouquets at his wife.
On the way up the street, we didn't say much, walking close togetherhand tucked in arm. But suddenly, up under one of those big arc lightsin Gramercy Park, he stopped short, and looking strange and solemn, gaveme a kiss, a good loud smack, and said, sort of husky:
"I love you more this evening, Morningdew, than I ever did since thefirst day I met you."
Well--that's the end. Jack and Carol are going to be married this springand go to Firehill. Babbitts and I have a standing invitation down therefor every Sunday and all summer if we want. There's a great lawsuitstarted to prove the claims of Mrs. Whitehall and Carol as JohnstonBarker's wife and child. He died without a will, so in the end they'llget most all he left--piles and piles of money. It's in the Whitneyoffice and last time I saw Mr. Whitney he told me Carol would some daybe one of the richest women in New York.
It won't spoil her--she's not that kind--a grand, fine woman, true blueevery inch of her. I've come to know her well and I'm satisfied she'sjust the girl I would have chosen for Jack Reddy. Queer, isn't it, theway things come about? Here was I, searching for a wife for him, turningthem all down, and he goes and stumbles on the only one in the countryI'd think good enough. That's the way it is with life--when it looksmost like a muddle it's going straightest. It sure is sort ofconfusing--but it's a good old world after all.
ends
The Black Eagle Mystery Page 21
