The Circular Staircase

by Mary Roberts Rinehart

  THE CIRCULAR STAIRCASE

  By

  MARY ROBERTS RINEHART

  CONTENTS

  I I TAKE A COUNTRY HOUSE II A LINK CUFF-BUTTON III MR. JOHN BAILEY APPEARS IV WHERE IS HALSEY? V GERTRUDE'S ENGAGEMENT VI IN THE EAST CORRIDOR VII A SPRAINED ANKLE VIII THE OTHER HALF OF THE LINE IX JUST LIKE A GIRL X THE TRADERS BANK XI HALSEY MAKES A CAPTURE XII ONE MYSTERY FOR ANOTHER XIII LOUISE XIV AN EGG-NOG AND A TELEGRAM XV LIDDY GIVES THE ALARM XVI IN THE EARLY MORNING XVII A HINT OF SCANDAL XVIII A HOLE IN THE WALL XIX CONCERNING THOMAS XX DOCTOR WALKER'S WARNING XXI FOURTEEN ELM STREET XXII A LADDER OUT OF PLACE XXIII WHILE THE STABLES BURNED XXIV FLINDERS XXV A VISIT FROM LOUISE XXVI HALSEY'S DISAPPEARANCE XXVII WHO IS NINA CARRINGTON? XXVIII A TRAMP AND THE TOOTHACHE XXIX A SCRAP OF PAPER XXX WHEN CHURCHYARDS YAWN XXXI BETWEEN TWO FIREPLACES XXXII ANNE WATSON'S STORY XXXIII AT THE FOOT OF THE STAIRS XXXIV THE ODDS AND ENDS

  THE CIRCULAR STAIRCASE

  CHAPTER I

  I TAKE A COUNTRY HOUSE

  This is the story of how a middle-aged spinster lost her mind, desertedher domestic gods in the city, took a furnished house for the summerout of town, and found herself involved in one of those mysteriouscrimes that keep our newspapers and detective agencies happy andprosperous. For twenty years I had been perfectly comfortable; fortwenty years I had had the window-boxes filled in the spring, thecarpets lifted, the awnings put up and the furniture covered with brownlinen; for as many summers I had said good-by to my friends, and, afterwatching their perspiring hegira, had settled down to a delicious quietin town, where the mail comes three times a day, and the water supplydoes not depend on a tank on the roof.

  And then--the madness seized me. When I look back over the months Ispent at Sunnyside, I wonder that I survived at all. As it is, I showthe wear and tear of my harrowing experiences. I have turned verygray--Liddy reminded me of it, only yesterday, by saying that a littlebluing in the rinse-water would make my hair silvery, instead of ayellowish white. I hate to be reminded of unpleasant things and Isnapped her off.

  "No," I said sharply, "I'm not going to use bluing at my time of life,or starch, either."

  Liddy's nerves are gone, she says, since that awful summer, but she hasenough left, goodness knows! And when she begins to go around with alump in her throat, all I have to do is to threaten to return toSunnyside, and she is frightened into a semblance ofcheerfulness,--from which you may judge that the summer there wasanything but a success.

  The newspaper accounts have been so garbled and incomplete--one of themmentioned me but once, and then only as the tenant at the time thething happened--that I feel it my due to tell what I know. Mr.Jamieson, the detective, said himself he could never have done withoutme, although he gave me little enough credit, in print.

  I shall have to go back several years--thirteen, to be exact--to startmy story. At that time my brother died, leaving me his two children.Halsey was eleven then, and Gertrude was seven. All theresponsibilities of maternity were thrust upon me suddenly; to perfectthe profession of motherhood requires precisely as many years as thechild has lived, like the man who started to carry the calf and endedby walking along with the bull on his shoulders. However, I did thebest I could. When Gertrude got past the hair-ribbon age, and Halseyasked for a scarf-pin and put on long trousers--and a wonderful helpthat was to the darning.--I sent them away to good schools. Afterthat, my responsibility was chiefly postal, with three months everysummer in which to replenish their wardrobes, look over their lists ofacquaintances, and generally to take my foster-motherhood out of itsnine months' retirement in camphor.

  I missed the summers with them when, somewhat later, at boarding-schooland college, the children spent much of their vacations with friends.Gradually I found that my name signed to a check was even more welcomethan when signed to a letter, though I wrote them at stated intervals.But when Halsey had finished his electrical course and Gertrude herboarding-school, and both came home to stay, things were suddenlychanged. The winter Gertrude came out was nothing but a succession ofsitting up late at night to bring her home from things, taking her tothe dressmakers between naps the next day, and discouraging ineligibleyouths with either more money than brains, or more brains than money.Also, I acquired a great many things: to say lingerie forunder-garments, "frocks" and "gowns" instead of dresses, and thatbeardless sophomores are not college boys, but college men. Halseyrequired less personal supervision, and as they both got their mother'sfortune that winter, my responsibility became purely moral. Halseybought a car, of course, and I learned how to tie over my bonnet a graybaize veil, and, after a time, never to stop to look at the dogs onehas run down. People are apt to be so unpleasant about their dogs.

  The additions to my education made me a properly equipped maiden aunt,and by spring I was quite tractable. So when Halsey suggested campingin the Adirondacks and Gertrude wanted Bar Harbor, we compromised on agood country house with links near, within motor distance of town andtelephone distance of the doctor. That was how we went to Sunnyside.

  We went out to inspect the property, and it seemed to deserve its name.Its cheerful appearance gave no indication whatever of anything out ofthe ordinary. Only one thing seemed unusual to me: the housekeeper,who had been left in charge, had moved from the house to the gardener'slodge, a few days before. As the lodge was far enough away from thehouse, it seemed to me that either fire or thieves could complete theirwork of destruction undisturbed. The property was an extensive one:the house on the top of a hill, which sloped away in great stretches ofgreen lawn and clipped hedges, to the road; and across the valley,perhaps a couple of miles away, was the Greenwood Club House. Gertrudeand Halsey were infatuated.

  "Why, it's everything you want," Halsey said "View, air, good water andgood roads. As for the house, it's big enough for a hospital, if ithas a Queen Anne front and a Mary Anne back," which was ridiculous: itwas pure Elizabethan.

  Of course we took the place; it was not my idea of comfort, being muchtoo large and sufficiently isolated to make the servant questionserious. But I give myself credit for this: whatever has happenedsince, I never blamed Halsey and Gertrude for taking me there. Andanother thing: if the series of catastrophes there did nothing else, ittaught me one thing--that somehow, somewhere, from perhaps ahalf-civilized ancestor who wore a sheepskin garment and trailed hisfood or his prey, I have in me the instinct of the chase. Were I a manI should be a trapper of criminals, trailing them as relentlessly as nodoubt my sheepskin ancestor did his wild boar. But being an unmarriedwoman, with the handicap of my sex, my first acquaintance with crimewill probably be my last. Indeed, it came near enough to being my lastacquaintance with anything.

  The property was owned by Paul Armstrong, the president of the Traders'Bank, who at the time we took the house was in the west with his wifeand daughter, and a Doctor Walker, the Armstrong family physician.Halsey knew Louise Armstrong,--had been rather attentive to her thewinter before, but as Halsey was always attentive to somebody, I hadnot thought of it seriously, although she was a charming girl. I knewof Mr. Armstrong only through his connection with the bank, where thechildren's money was largely invested, and through an ugly story aboutthe son, Arnold Armstrong, who was reported to have forged his father'sname, for a considerable amount, to some bank paper. However, thestory had had no interest for me.

  I cleared Halsey and Gertrude away to a house party, and moved out toSunnyside the first of May. The roads were bad, but the trees were inleaf, and there were still tulips in the borders around the house. Thearbutus was fragrant in the woods under the dead leaves, and on the
wayfrom the station, a short mile, while the car stuck in the mud, I founda bank showered with tiny forget-me-nots. The birds--don't ask me whatkind; they all look alike to me, unless they have a hall mark of somebright color--the birds were chirping in the hedges, and everythingbreathed of peace. Liddy, who was born and bred on a brick pavement,got a little bit down-spirited when the crickets began to chirp, orscrape their legs together, or whatever it is they do, at twilight.

  The first night passed quietly enough. I have always been grateful forthat one night's peace; it shows what the country might be, underfavorable circumstances. Never after that night did I put my head onmy pillow with any assurance how long it would be there; or on myshoulders, for that matter.

  On the following morning Liddy and Mrs. Ralston, my own housekeeper,had a difference of opinion, and Mrs. Ralston left on the eleven train.Just after luncheon, Burke, the butler, was taken unexpectedly with apain in his right side, much worse when I was within hearing distance,and by afternoon he was started cityward. That night the cook's sisterhad a baby--the cook, seeing indecision in my face, made it twins onsecond thought--and, to be short, by noon the next day the householdstaff was down to Liddy and myself. And this in a house withtwenty-two rooms and five baths!

  Liddy wanted to go back to the city at once, but the milk-boy said thatThomas Johnson, the Armstrongs' colored butler, was working as a waiterat the Greenwood Club, and might come back. I have the usual scruplesabout coercing people's servants away, but few of us have anyconscience regarding institutions or corporations--witness the way webeat railroads and street-car companies when we can--so I called up theclub, and about eight o'clock Thomas Johnson came to see me. PoorThomas!

  Well, it ended by my engaging Thomas on the spot, at outrageous wages,and with permission to sleep in the gardener's lodge, empty since thehouse was rented. The old man--he was white-haired and a littlestooped, but with an immense idea of his personal dignity--gave me hisreasons hesitatingly.

  "I ain't sayin' nothin', Mis' Innes," he said, with his hand on thedoor-knob, "but there's been goin's-on here this las' few months asain't natchal. 'Tain't one thing an' 'tain't another--it's jest a doorsquealin' here, an' a winder closin' there, but when doors an' windersgets to cuttin' up capers and there's nobody nigh 'em, it's time ThomasJohnson sleeps somewhar's else."

  Liddy, who seemed to be never more than ten feet away from me thatnight, and was afraid of her shadow in that great barn of a place,screamed a little, and turned a yellow-green. But I am not easilyalarmed.

  It was entirely in vain; I represented to Thomas that we were alone,and that he would have to stay in the house that night. He was politelyfirm, but he would come over early the next morning, and if I gave hima key, he would come in time to get some sort of breakfast. I stood onthe huge veranda and watched him shuffle along down the shadowy drive,with mingled feelings--irritation at his cowardice and thankfulness atgetting him at all. I am not ashamed to say that I double-locked thehall door when I went in.

  "You can lock up the rest of the house and go to bed, Liddy," I saidseverely. "You give me the creeps standing there. A woman of your ageought to have better sense." It usually braces Liddy to mention herage: she owns to forty--which is absurd. Her mother cooked for mygrandfather, and Liddy must be at least as old as I. But that nightshe refused to brace.

  "You're not going to ask me to lock up, Miss Rachel!" she quavered."Why, there's a dozen French windows in the drawing-room and thebilliard-room wing, and every one opens on a porch. And Mary Anne saidthat last night there was a man standing by the stable when she lockedthe kitchen door."

  "Mary Anne was a fool," I said sternly. "If there had been a manthere, she would have had him in the kitchen and been feeding him whatwas left from dinner, inside of an hour, from force of habit. Nowdon't be ridiculous. Lock up the house and go to bed. I am going toread."

  But Liddy set her lips tight and stood still.

  "I'm not going to bed," she said. "I am going to pack up, andto-morrow I am going to leave."

  "You'll do nothing of the sort," I snapped. Liddy and I often desireto part company, but never at the same time. "If you are afraid, Iwill go with you, but for goodness' sake don't try to hide behind me."

  The house was a typical summer residence on an extensive scale.Wherever possible, on the first floor, the architect had done away withpartitions, using arches and columns instead. The effect was cool andspacious, but scarcely cozy. As Liddy and I went from one window toanother, our voices echoed back at us uncomfortably. There was plentyof light--the electric plant down in the village supplied us--but therewere long vistas of polished floor, and mirrors which reflected us fromunexpected corners, until I felt some of Liddy's foolishnesscommunicate itself to me.

  The house was very long, a rectangle in general form, with the mainentrance in the center of the long side. The brick-paved entry openedinto a short hall to the right of which, separated only by a row ofpillars, was a huge living-room. Beyond that was the drawing-room, andin the end, the billiard-room. Off the billiard-room, in the extremeright wing, was a den, or card-room, with a small hall opening on theeast veranda, and from there went up a narrow circular staircase.Halsey had pointed it out with delight.

  "Just look, Aunt Rachel," he said with a flourish. "The architect thatput up this joint was wise to a few things. Arnold Armstrong and hisfriends could sit here and play cards all night and stumble up to bedin the early morning, without having the family send in a police call."

  Liddy and I got as far as the card-room and turned on all the lights.I tried the small entry door there, which opened on the veranda, andexamined the windows. Everything was secure, and Liddy, a little lessnervous now, had just pointed out to me the disgracefully dustycondition of the hard-wood floor, when suddenly the lights went out.We waited a moment; I think Liddy was stunned with fright, or she wouldhave screamed. And then I clutched her by the arm and pointed to oneof the windows opening on the porch. The sudden change threw thewindow into relief, an oblong of grayish light, and showed us a figurestanding close, peering in. As I looked it darted across the verandaand out of sight in the darkness.