CHAPTER III
MR. JOHN BAILEY APPEARS
I had dinner served in the breakfast-room. Somehow the hugedining-room depressed me, and Thomas, cheerful enough all day, allowedhis spirits to go down with the sun. He had a habit of watching thecorners of the room, left shadowy by the candles on the table, andaltogether it was not a festive meal.
Dinner over I went into the living-room. I had three hours before thechildren could possibly arrive, and I got out my knitting. I hadbrought along two dozen pairs of slipper soles in assorted sizes--Ialways send knitted slippers to the Old Ladies' Home at Christmas--andnow I sorted over the wools with a grim determination not to thinkabout the night before. But my mind was not on my work: at the end ofa half-hour I found I had put a row of blue scallops on ElizaKlinefelter's lavender slippers, and I put them away.
I got out the cuff-link and went with it to the pantry. Thomas waswiping silver and the air was heavy with tobacco smoke. I sniffed andlooked around, but there was no pipe to be seen.
"Thomas," I said, "you have been smoking."
"No, ma'm." He was injured innocence itself. "It's on my coat, ma'm.Over at the club the gentlemen--"
But Thomas did not finish. The pantry was suddenly filled with theodor of singeing cloth. Thomas gave a clutch at his coat, whirled tothe sink, filled a tumbler with water and poured it into his rightpocket with the celerity of practice.
"Thomas," I said, when he was sheepishly mopping the floor, "smoking isa filthy and injurious habit. If you must smoke, you must; but don'tstick a lighted pipe in your pocket again. Your skin's your own: youcan blister it if you like. But this house is not mine, and I don'twant a conflagration. Did you ever see this cuff-link before?"
No, he never had, he said, but he looked at it oddly.
"I picked it up in the hall," I added indifferently. The old man'seyes were shrewd under his bushy eyebrows.
"There's strange goin's-on here, Mis' Innes," he said, shaking hishead. "Somethin's goin' to happen, sure. You ain't took notice thatthe big clock in the hall is stopped, I reckon?"
"Nonsense," I said. "Clocks have to stop, don't they, if they're notwound?"
"It's wound up, all right, and it stopped at three o'clock last night,"he answered solemnly. "More'n that, that there clock ain't stopped forfifteen years, not since Mr. Armstrong's first wife died. And thatain't all,--no MA'M. Last three nights I slep' in this place, afterthe electrics went out I had a token. My oil lamp was full of oil, butit kep' goin' out, do what I would. Minute I shet my eyes, out thatlamp'd go. There ain't no surer token of death. The Bible sez, LETYER LIGHT SHINE! When a hand you can't see puts yer light out, it meansdeath, sure."
The old man's voice was full of conviction. In spite of myself I had achilly sensation in the small of my back, and I left him mumbling overhis dishes. Later on I heard a crash from the pantry, and Liddyreported that Beulah, who is coal black, had darted in front of Thomasjust as he picked up a tray of dishes; that the bad omen had been toomuch for him, and he had dropped the tray.
The chug of the automobile as it climbed the hill was the most welcomesound I had heard for a long time, and with Gertrude and Halseyactually before me, my troubles seemed over for good. Gertrude stoodsmiling in the hall, with her hat quite over one ear, and her hair inevery direction under her pink veil. Gertrude is a very pretty girl, nomatter how her hat is, and I was not surprised when Halsey presented agood-looking young man, who bowed at me and looked at Trude--that isthe ridiculous nickname Gertrude brought from school.
"I have brought a guest, Aunt Ray," Halsey said. "I want you to adopthim into your affections and your Saturday-to-Monday list. Let mepresent John Bailey, only you must call him Jack. In twelve hourshe'll be calling you 'Aunt': I know him."
We shook hands, and I got a chance to look at Mr. Bailey; he was a tallfellow, perhaps thirty, and he wore a small mustache. I rememberwondering why: he seemed to have a good mouth and when he smiled histeeth were above the average. One never knows why certain men cling toa messy upper lip that must get into things, any more than oneunderstands some women building up their hair on wire atrocities.Otherwise, he was very good to look at, stalwart and tanned, with thedirect gaze that I like. I am particular about Mr. Bailey, because hewas a prominent figure in what happened later.
Gertrude was tired with the trip and went up to bed very soon. I madeup my mind to tell them nothing; until the next day, and then to makeas light of our excitement as possible. After all, what had I to tell?An inquisitive face peering in at a window; a crash in the night; ascratch or two on the stairs, and half a cuff-button! As for Thomasand his forebodings, it was always my belief that a negro is one partthief, one part pigment, and the rest superstition.
It was Saturday night. The two men went to the billiard-room, and Icould hear them talking as I went up-stairs. It seemed that Halsey hadstopped at the Greenwood Club for gasolene and found Jack Bailey there,with the Sunday golf crowd. Mr. Bailey had not been hard topersuade--probably Gertrude knew why--and they had carried him offtriumphantly. I roused Liddy to get them something to eat--Thomas wasbeyond reach in the lodge--and paid no attention to her evident terrorof the kitchen regions. Then I went to bed. The men were still in thebilliard-room when I finally dozed off, and the last thing I rememberwas the howl of a dog in front of the house. It wailed a crescendo ofwoe that trailed off hopefully, only to break out afresh from a newpoint of the compass.
At three o'clock in the morning I was roused by a revolver shot. Thesound seemed to come from just outside my door. For a moment I couldnot move. Then--I heard Gertrude stirring in her room, and the nextmoment she had thrown open the connecting door.
"O Aunt Ray! Aunt Ray!" she cried hysterically. "Some one has beenkilled, killed!"
"Thieves," I said shortly. "Thank goodness, there are some men in thehouse to-night." I was getting into my slippers and a bath-robe, andGertrude with shaking hands was lighting a lamp. Then we opened thedoor into the hall, where, crowded on the upper landing of the stairs,the maids, white-faced and trembling, were peering down, headed byLiddy. I was greeted by a series of low screams and questions, and Itried to quiet them.
Gertrude had dropped on a chair and sat there limp and shivering.
I went at once across the hall to Halsey's room and knocked; then Ipushed the door open. It was empty; the bed had not been occupied!
"He must be in Mr. Bailey's room," I said excitedly, and followed byLiddy, we went there. Like Halsey's, it had not been occupied!Gertrude was on her feet now, but she leaned against the door forsupport.
"They have been killed!" she gasped. Then she caught me by the arm anddragged me toward the stairs. "They may only be hurt, and we must findthem," she said, her eyes dilated with excitement.
I don't remember how we got down the stairs: I do remember expectingevery moment to be killed. The cook was at the telephone up-stairs,calling the Greenwood Club, and Liddy was behind me, afraid to come andnot daring to stay behind. We found the living-room and thedrawing-room undisturbed. Somehow I felt that whatever we found wouldbe in the card-room or on the staircase, and nothing but the fear thatHalsey was in danger drove me on; with every step my knees seemed togive way under me. Gertrude was ahead and in the card-room shestopped, holding her candle high. Then she pointed silently to thedoorway into the hall beyond. Huddled there on the floor, face down,with his arms extended, was a man.
Gertrude ran forward with a gasping sob. "Jack," she cried, "oh, Jack!"
Liddy had run, screaming, and the two of us were there alone. It wasGertrude who turned him over, finally, until we could see his whiteface, and then she drew a deep breath and dropped limply to her knees.It was the body of a man, a gentleman, in a dinner coat and whitewaistcoat, stained now with blood--the body of a man I had never seenbefore.
The Circular Staircase Page 3
