Foronce Diana was silenced. It was absurd that she should attempt to justify herself to a woman of this character. Yet she did.
“Mr. Dempsi is—is a very dear friend. To compare your—oh, it’s horrible!”
She was sickened—the realisation of her own hypocrisy did not lessen the nausea. There was no comparison. Of the two men, Double Dan was the more appealing.
No index of her mind went unread by the shrewd watcher.
“I gotta stick by this anyhow. It’s no vacation for me,” said Heloise with a sigh.
The effect was magical—the frown vanished from Diana’s face and a soft light came to her eyes.
“I’m sorry for you sometimes,” she said.
Heloise raised her left shoulder.
“Why, I’m sorry most times. Gee! It’s a helluva life,” she said bitterly.
Diana’s heart went out to the woman. Herloneliness, the atmosphere of tragedy which now enveloped her, called for tenderness and help.
“I ought to have realised that,” she said gently. “I’m sorry I was sharp.”
The great strategist is he who recognises the moment when his enemy is wavering. Heloise brought up her heavy guns.
“I was a good woman before I met him,” she said with a little sob. Gordon, a horrified listener, came gasping into the kitchen.
“You—you——!”
“Silence!”
Under the flashing eyes of Diana Ford his courage failed. Like the fisherman’s wife, he could only stand and watch and suffer.
“He just naturally dragged me down.” Heloise was playing for safety and freedom, and she was a champion player.
Diana’s voice quivered as she turned on the shrinking man.
“You brute! To think that a man like you should be allowed to prey upon humanity! I suspected something like this! You are a human tiger, unfit to live—Why don’t you leave him, Heloise?” she asked tenderly.
Heloise wiped her eyes and sniffed.
“He’s got me—so.” She put down her thumb suggestively. “That kind of man doesn’t let up on a woman once she’s in his power. She’s his till doom.”
Gordon shuffled his feet and she stepped back, fear in her face.
“Don’t let him touch me!” she cried in terror.
In another second Diana’s arm was about her.
“Stand back,” she said sternly. “Does he—does he strike you?”
Heloise nodded with just that show of reluctance that was so convincing.
“I’m just black and blue sometimes,” she wept. “He’ll beat me for this, sure. Don’t trouble about me, Miss Ford—I’m naturally worthless. I must stand by Dan to the end of the chapter—heaven help me!”
“You villain!” The girl was in tears too. Gordon was beyond weeping. “But why can’t you leave him?” Diana’s voice was low and vibrant. “Are you married?”
The slow smile that dawned on the sad face told its own black story.
“That kinder man doesn’t marry,” said Heloise quietly.
The basilisk glare of Diana’s eyes turned to Gordon, dumb and motionless.
“But he shall!” she said slowly.
Heloise went swiftly past her and fell on her knees at Gordon’s feet. He did not even attempt to draw his hands away when she clutched them. This nightmare would pass—he was sure of that. Monstrous things like this did not happen in a well-ordered world. He had only to keep quiet and calm and presently Trenter’s voice would say: “Eight o’clock, sir; I’m afraid it is raining.” Trenter always apologised for the weather. And he would open his eyes....
Through the haze of his dream came the moaning sound of Heloise pleading.
“Dan, you heard what the good young lady said. Marry me, Dan—won’t you marry me?”
Gordon smiled foolishly. To Diana it was devilish.
“Make me like I was when you took me from my li’l Connecticut home,” sobbed Heloise. Not for nothing had she played a small town tour with that masterpieceRich Men and Poor Women. “Don’t you see it, Dan? The old farm an’ the old cows comin’ along the boardwalk, an’ can’t you hear the cracked bell of the chapel, an’ don’t you remember my old mother sittin’ right there on the porch read’n’ the good old Book? Make it come back again, Dan.”
Her voice rose to a thin, agonized wail. For a second Gordon returned to near normal.
“What do you mean by this tomfoolery?” he squeaked, trying to disengage his hand.
“Man!” Diana was unconscious of the plagiarism. “Be careful!”
He shook his head.
“I tell you——”
“You shall marry her!”
“I—I can’t—I won’t.... I’ll see you all to the devil.”
Heloise cowered under the stroke of fate.
“You promised me, Dan! You promised me! You’re not going back on your word? Dan, say it ain’t true—it’s not true, Dan?”
It was terrible, thought Diana, her heart broken by the woman’s woe.
“You don’t mean it, Dan, do you? It’s only your joking way?” Gordon showed his teeth in a fiendish grimace. “Ah, I can see you smiling. I can see the li’l twinkle in your eye! We’ll quit this business like this pretty young lady says an’ shake the whole outfit, won’t we, Dan? And I’llbe just your li’l wife sittin’ on the back porch, whilst you’re mixin’ the hen-feed in the garden.”
“Damn the hen-feed!” he yelled. “Curse you and your back porch! I won’t marry you. Diana, can’t you see that she’s a fake? She’s acting! I’m nothing to her!”
“He spurns me,” groaned Heloise, and fell prostrate to the floor. Instantly Diana was beside her and had raised the bowed head.
“Come with me, my dear. Appeal is wasted on a man like that. Ah, you can laugh!”
“I’m not laughing,” said Gordon indignantly. “What the devil is there to laugh at? If I laughed at anybody I would laugh at you, you ... you booby!”
She cast upon him one harrowing glance of contempt, and then devoted her attention to the girl.
“If I gave you the money to get to your home, would you go?”
Heloise nodded weakly.
“You shall have it to-morrow. Come with me.”
Heloise gently freed herself of the detaining arm.
“No—no, I’ll stay,” she said brokenly. “Iguess there’s something I want to say to Dan, something that I want no other woman to hear.”
Diana went pale.
“I think I understand,” she said quietly, and went out, closing the door softly behind her.
Heloise waited, crept to the door and listened before she spun round, joy in her face.
“Whoop-ee!” She danced round the kitchen. “I got my fare! I got my fare! Oh boy, some leading woman! Heloise, your salary is raised and your name’s in lights.”
“You, you wicked woman!” gasped Gordon. “How dare you—how dare you!”
“Aw, listen!” Hand on hip, she faced him, looking from under her curling lashes. “I gotta get somethin’ on the side. Be reasonable, Man. I’m broke—I couldn’t raise two dollars. Suppose Dan does pay up—where’s my transportation coming from? Have a heart, birdie.”
“You’ve deceived Miss Ford.”
“Now listen to Holy Mike! Haven’t you deceived her? Anyway, you don’t deserve a nice li’l girl like that. Don’t think I despise her because she’s easy. That’s a real nice girl. You lied when you said you were married—you maybe, but it is not to Diana. And never will be. She’s got brains.”
He strode up and down the kitchen with furious strides, muttering under his breath. Presently he confronted her.
“You take away my character—you accuse me of the most abominable acts. You swear away my reputation in a most disgraceful manner. I am Double Dan in her eyes.”
She had found and lit another cigarette and was sitting on the table, her feet swinging.
“Gee, you’ve gotta get a sense of humour, boy,” she said good-naturedly. “You’re too serious, that’s what’s wrong with you! She’s a good dresser too—that gown she was wearing this afternoon certainly made me feel old.”
He was cooling down now. The uselessness of argument or appeal was so apparent that he fell into her mood.
“I shall finish in a lunatic asylum,” he said, “just as surely as Double Dan will finish in jail.”
“Don’t you worry. The li’l game is going to end very soon. I’m through. John’s due home in a fortnight, and I’m just longing for the smell of rubber an’ oil an’ breakfast. That’s what aship smells like to me. I’m going to have it out with Dan.”
“You mean, he is coming—that we shall meet?” asked Gordon eagerly.
“We shall meet and he shall part,” she said cryptically, “that’s what. The poor Limburger! And he’s going to split fair. Did he think I’d sit down an’ take his twen’y-eighty? No, sir. As a woman the idea revolts me. I was brought up in a strict fifty-fifty school!”
Gordon was himself again.
“Now I warn you this matter has gone as far as it is going,” he said impressively. “There are fifty thousand dollars in The Study safe, and I’ve no doubt in my mind that that is his objective, though how he came to know this——”
“Fifty thousand!” she breathed. “That explains everything! You told me in one of your heart-to-heart talks that you always kept a thousand pounds, but not——”
“This money was drawn to pay an American,” said Gordon impatiently. “There is no reason why I should explain why it is here. It is in the safe—that is sufficient.”
Heloise had become very thoughtful.
“Then he knew!” she said. “The piker!Wouldn’t that make you sore! Fifty thousand dollars—ten thousand pounds—seven hundred thousand francs—every mark in the world—and all to be cleaned up on his lonesome!”
She was apparently oblivious of Gordon’s presence. The immensity of Dan’s treachery was all-absorbing.
“So that’s why he wanted to work alone! ‘Get him to Ostend,’ he said, ‘and leave the rest to me!’ And the rest was fifty thousand dollars! That fellow couldn’t go straight if he was fired from a gun. Not a word to me either—he expected to get a thousand pounds, he said—it is the most unprofessional thing I’ve ever heard about in my life!”
“My dear woman,” said Gordon testily, “the ethics of the case do not interest me——”
“But he’s gonna split this two ways,” said Heloise grimly, “or my name is Johanna Dub. He’s going to act honest even if it hurts him. Yes, sir. There’s going to be honour amongst Double Dan and Heloise Chowster. Shame on you, Dan, you great big yegg!”
The perfidy of the man had changed her whole outlook on life. Her very ideals were tottering.
“He’ll split it no-ways, understand that!” Gordon was firm. “I will not see myself robbed. Do you think I’m a fool?”
She searched his face for rebutting evidence.
“Why, that idea certainly did occur to me,” she said mildly; and then her tone changed. Diana’s step was on the stair. “I won’t plead with you any more, Dan, there’s nothin’ to be gained. I—I wish you luck! Won’t you take my hand for the last time?”
Bewildered, Gordon stared at her, then he saw Diana and understood.
“Don’t let us part this way, Dan. I forgive you everything you’ve done. Good-bye, Dan, old friend.”
She put out her hand timidly. Gordon could have smacked her.
“Good-bye!”
“You brute—take her hand at once!” hissed Diana.
He took it limply.
“All right—good-evening.”
Diana knew that the criminal classes were callous, but she had never realised how brutal they could be.
“Come with me, my dear,” she said. “You need not see him any more.”
“Thank you,” said Gordon; “that’s the first kind thing you’ve said.”
Diana treated him with the scorn he deserved.
“Miss Ford”—Heloise was looking wistfully at her benefactress—“dare I ask you sump’n?”
“Why, surely.”
Heloise touched her skirt disparagingly.
“Somehow these clothes don’t seem right in my state of mind. I know you’ll think I’m crazy, but clothes mean an awful lot, even to a woman like me, and these are kind of too gay for a broken-hearted girl. If you’ve got sump’n quiet and sorrowful——”
Diana smiled. How well she understood!
“I know just how you’re feeling. Come to my room, Heloise. You need have no fear. I will send Superbus to look after this—this man.”
Gordon thrust out a warning finger.
“Diana, I beg of you not to help this wretched female. And for heaven’s sake don’t give her any of your new clothes—if you do, she’ll impersonate you——”
Diana’s glance would have withered a waterlily.
“You despicable brute! Go to your bed and sleep—if you can!”
Itwas Monday morning. A church clock striking one reminded Gordon of this interesting fact. An hour had passed since Bobbie’s “good-night” had come to him through the closed door of his room.
“Good-night,” said Gordon.
“I wasn’t speaking to you,” snapped Bobbie.
He had been out all the evening interviewing Inspector Carslake, and the excursion had not been altogether profitable. Bobbie’s door closed. He heard the click of Diana’s lock being fastened. Dempsi passed, after rhapsodizing at the closed portals of Diana’s bower. From somewhere below came the snores of Julius Superbus.
Every exit from the house was closed, save one. The little casement in the big windows of The Study. Gordon had made a careful examination, for there was a possibility that Diana had taken the precaution of screwing it tight. But this she had neglected, satisfied probably with the presence in The Study of Mr. Superbus.
Twice Gordon had tiptoed to the door of his room and turned the handle. It was unlocked to-night. With Bobbie in the house Diana had relaxed her vigilance. Half-past-one chimed. Gordon got off the bed, put on his soiled collar and his coat and gathered up his shoes. He was penniless, but the servants at the hotel knew him, and he would be able to write a cheque on the hotel note-paper and get all the cash he wanted. And then he would return and deal with Mr. Dempsi. He had not yet decided as to the method of Dempsi’s death, but it would be painful. As for Heloise ... he hoped that she would be gone.
Extinguishing the light, he opened the door and listened. There was no sound, and, creeping down the stairs, he passed silently into The Study. Mr. Superbus was breathing regularly—the window rattled a little; the floor vibrated; but no other ill effects followed. As Gordon stood listening, the detective grunted and turned over on his side. The snores ceased—Julius was in a deeper sleep than ever. Now was his chance; yet he had not taken a step before he halted. A circle of light had appeared at the window. He waited, holding his breath. There was a rasping sound, and the casement opened. He saw the dark bulk of a figure wriggle through. A long pause, in which the newcomer was invisible, then the circle of light appeared again. This time on the safe.
A burglar! His first impulse was to leap at the man and grapple with him. His second was to approach with less commotion....
“Hands up, or I’ll fire!”
At the first sibilant of the words, the light went out, and then:
“Don’t shoot, guv’nor. It’s a cop!”
“Don’t shout, you fool!” hissed Gordon. “There’s a man sleeping in the room—where’s your gun?”
“Don’t carry a gun.”
“What are you doing here?”
The unknown burglar’s impatient click of lips was certainly called for.
“Don’t ask silly questions—I said it was a cop, didn’t I?”
Gordon groped for the flash-lamp and turned it full on the man’s face.
“I know you,” he said immediately.
The thin lips parted in a grin.
“You ’ave the advantage of me,” he said with mordant humour.
“You are the man who was cleaning the windows yesterday morning?”
The burglar nodded.
“Got me first time. Stark’s my name—I’m not giving any trouble, and if you tell the judge I had a gun you’re a liar.”
He raised his voice a little. Gordon glanced round fearfully, but the detective was snoring again.
“Ssh! Not so loud. Have you opened the safe?”
The idea came to him at that second: a brain flash of singular brilliance.
“I should have done if you’d been a minute later,” said Stark plaintively. “You’ve spoilt a good night’s work.”
Gordon nodded.
“Open it,” he said, and Stark could not believe his ears.
“What!”
“Open it. I’ll pay you well—and I’ll give you your liberty. You’ll only have to work on one lock—the combination is ‘Telma’—got that?”
“Do you mean it, guv’nor?” incredulity dominant.
“Yes, yes. I lost my key,” replied Gordon. “Now get to work—can you manage without the lights?”
The other grinned in the darkness.
“Sure. Only amatchoors want a lot of light. A flash is best—and brightest.”
He produced from under his coat a short jemmy and a longer and thinner instrument. He may have been, and was, a poor window-cleaner. As burglar he belonged to the aristocracy.
“Ever seen a safe opened before?” he asked over his shoulder.
Gordon shook his head.
“No—not this way,” he admitted.
“Takes years to learn and there’s not much money in it,” said Mr. Stark sadly. “Spoilt by foreigners this trade is, ruined by competition and outsiders, like everything else. Americans mostly. Why they don’t keep in their own country I don’t know. Very smart fellows—I’ll say that, though they’re taking the bread out of our mouths; but we’ve got as good men if they only had a bit of encouragement and capital behind ’em.”
The door swung out.
“There you are, sir!”
Gordon peered over the man’s shoulder.
“Open?” he asked, in a tone which combined surprise and annoyance. The man who sold him the safe was indeed a teller of untrue stories.
“Yes.”
“Show the light. Here it is. Moses! there’s not ten thousand there!”
He grasped what there was, and raised his head to listen—somebody was coming down the stairs.
“Now go quick—there’s somebody coming. Here, take this!”
He thrust a bill into the burglar’s hand. In a second Stark was through the window. Gordon was following, when a quivering voice from the sofa called:
“Who’s there——?”
Mr. Selsbury did not wait to explain. As the detective, with surprising courage, ran toward him, Gordon jumped from the window.
“Stop!”
It was another voice—Dempsi! Gordon dropped to the courtyard as the other fired.
“Bang—bang!”
Twice he shot, and there was a scream of pain. Diana heard it, and sprang from bed. Drawing her wrap about her as she ran, she flew down the stairs and into The Study. In the centre of the room stood Dempsi, and at his feet a figure—the wriggling figure of Julius Superbus.
“He has paid the price of duty,” said Dempsi.
And so it proved. Ten little toes had Mr. Superbus brought to 61 Cheynel Gardens. One would never go forth again attached to his patrician feet.
Summingup the matter, as she did in a night made busy with the comings and goings of doctors, and vocal with the low-voiced agony of Mr. Superbus, Diana was glad that the man had escaped. She was sorry, extremely sorry about the Julian toe—a small toe by all accounts, and not especially valuable or wholly necessary to his complete enjoyment of life—still, it was his, and had been (as he explained between paroxysms) a close companion throughout his chequered life. He recounted stories about it, half fond, half wistful. Once he had dropped a hammer on it and had cursed it for being in the way. He regretted that now. It had been a gentle, easy-going toe, and had never given him trouble. Other toes had developed callosities that were painful; but this child of his heart amongst the pedal appendages had never given him a moment’s unease.
Yes, she was rather sorry, even though the doctor said he was in no pain and (not knowing the fearless character of the man) had given anopinion that Julius was more frightened than hurt. But she was glad Double Dan had gone ... ever so glad.
And the shooting had produced one most desirable result—Dempsi had been completely subdued ever since. Not once had he described her as his angel or his serene vision. He who had searched the heavens and starry spaces thereof for illustrations of her beauty, her charm and her numerous attractions, was satisfied with the most commonplace terminology.
“The fact is,” said Bobbie, “the poor Wop has never used an automatic before, and the darn thing went off before he realised he had touched the trigger.”
“Poor Wop!” Diana’s nose went up. “Poor Mr. Superbus rather!”
This was so long after breakfast that Bobbie had had time to make a call at Diana’s bank, and Mr. Dempsi was a notable absentee.
“How did you sleep?” he asked sympathetically.
“Terribly! Bobbie, did you get the money?”
“Yes, by great good luck your credits came through on Saturday. I have the money. The manager was full of apologies on behalf of self and bank. Here it is.” He produced from hiship pocket a thick wad of bills. “In American money. By some strange accident it is clean.”
She was thoughtful, biting her lip.
“I had a wire from Gordon. He has reached Inverness,” she mentioned.
“I’m sure he has,” said Bobbie drily. “And how is the old K Bus?”
“Poor old fellow!” she laughed quietly. “I think he’s almost reconciled to his very great loss. I shouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t develop into a war-hero, but for the moment he’s worrying what his good lady will say about the lost toe. From what he says I gather that she counts them every night.”
Bobbie grinned at the fire. There seemed something inexpressibly comic about a man losing a toe.
“Nothing has been heard of Double Dan?” he asked, and she shook her head.
“No, he seems to have disappeared. We know by the marks on the brickwork that he climbed the wall, and according to Mr. Superbus, he had a companion. In one way I’m glad he’s gone.”
Bobbie looked at the girl in astonishment.
“Glad?” he said. “Good lord, why?”
“For the poor girl’s sake.” Diana’s face wassaddened. “You don’t know what she’s suffered at his hands, Bobbie. There’s a whole lot of good in Heloise. Of course she feels his going. That’s the curse of it—a woman never loses hope.”
“He must have got away pretty quickly,” said Bobbie. “I was down immediately after Dempsi, and though I searched the house and the courtyard at once, there was no sign of the devil.”
She made a little gesture of distaste.
“Don’t let us talk about him,” she said briefly and went on to talk of Dempsi.
“He has been simply splendid. Really I have had a pleasant shock: the only one of that variety he has ever given me. I shouldn’t have thought that a man of his excitable temperament could have taken the matter so calmly. But he is subdued. A little nervous, I think, about the shooting. He was very anxious to know if I had informed the police, but of course I hadn’t—so far as Mr. Superbus’ toe was concerned. He’s going to-day.”
“Not Dempsi?”
She nodded.
“He says he’ll wait for me for a thousand years,” she sighed. “I told him a hundred wouldbe long enough—heigho! He hasn’t spoken otherwise about marriage all the morning. I almost like him for it.”
The subject of conversation strolled into the room a few minutes later. He was looking haggard, Bobbie thought, and remarkably unattractive.
“Good morning, Mr. Selsbury—you have not seen Aunt Lizzie? I wished to condole with her. It is terrible when lovers are parted—but how terrible for you! Double Dan, you say? It makes my flesh creep. Yet”—his admiring eyes beamed upon his hostess—“yet our little Diana did not fear! Ah, that was most wonderful. But tell me—who is Aunt Lizzie?”
“A friend of mine,” said Diana shortly.
Dempsi shook his head in sorrow.
“I shall never forgive myself for shooting Superbus—in the toe,” he said in a tone of bitter regret.
Bobbie laughed.
“You sound as though you’d like to have shot him through the head,” he said, and Mr. Dempsi recoiled before the bloodthirsty suggestion.
“I? Heaven forbid! I admire Superbus. He is to me most admirable.”
“He shouldn’t have slept,” said Diana. “He promised me that if he did fall off, he would have one eye open. Those were his words. I don’t know how he would manage, but he was so confident that I didn’t come down to look.”
She ran to the door. The tap, tap of a stick on the parquet floor of the hall announced the coming of the invalid, his right foot a picturesque cushion of white bandages. There was a crutch under one arm, and he heaved himself forward in jerks. To Diana he accorded a wan smile. Bobbie took one arm, Mr. Dempsi the other. They reached the sofa to the accompaniment of many grunts and “ughs.”
“You are feeling better, Mr. Superbus?”
He shook his head, being unwilling at this early stage to dispense with the anxiety, the care and the apprehension that was his due.
“Middling, ma’am, middling. Naturally, I’m a little bit shook up. I always get that way when I figure in a shooting affray—if I may use the term—and I’ve been in a few in my time. I’ll tell you about them one day, miss. But this, in a way, is the worst, and I admit I don’t feel up to the mark. What my good lady will say when she finds I’ve lost a toe——”
He shook his head mournfully. Diana tried to cheer him.
“I’m sure she won’t make a fuss, Mr. Superbus. Women are very brave in such moments of trial. And a toe more or less isn’t essential to married happiness.”
Mr. Superbus wasn’t so sure, being at that moment in his most sentimental mood. His eyes were moist.
“It’s a dreadful thing to think, ma’am,” he said, his lip a-tremble, “that only yesterday that little toe of mine was alive and well; to-day—where is it?”
Mr. Dempsi covered his eyes with his long, thin hand.
“And I did it,” he said, his bosom heaving.
“Don’t take on so, sir”—Julius had the air of a Christian martyr excusing the lions. “Why, it might have happened to any gentleman. I wish you’d shot him—or her.”
Diana’s eyes narrowed.
“Or her?” she repeated. “What makes you say that? Was the other person a woman?”
“It might have been.” Julius was not prepared to be more explicit. In truth, he wasn’t particularly sure himself, but being gifted by naturewith the mystery novelist’s successful trick of passing on suspicion to the most unlikely quarters, he suggested a woman accomplice, if only to be the only person in the room who knew the truth. Which was that the second person was a man and used expressions that no lady could possibly employ.
“Whether it is one or the other I am unable to make a statement at present,” he said sombrely. “That will come out at the trial.”
“What really happened?” Bobbie put the question. He had still only a disjoined idea of what had occurred in the dark.
Julius fumbled in his pocket and found a massive notebook, opened it deliberately, and, after much searching, found the page he sought.
“At twoA.M.on or about the fifteenth inst.,” he said sonorously and with complete relish, “I was aroused from my slumbers by an uneasy apprehension that trouble was abroad, viz: burglars or other bad characters. I proceeded at once to rise from my bed, which was twenty-five feet six inches from the window (I got Aunt Lizzie to measure it)” he explained in parenthesis. “The Study was in darkness, but I saw the figure of a man. As I darted forward to arrest him,there arose, seemingly from my feet, a person or persons unknown. Realising that danger threatened, I immediately grappled with them—I suppose you heard the sign of a struggle?” he asked anxiously.
Diana had heard nothing. Bobbie shook his head.
“I didn’t, but I wasn’t near enough,” he explained.
Mr. Dempsi, his hand behind him, his bearded chin on his waistcoat, did not look up.
“Suddenly,” resumed Superbus, “there was a shot and I knew no more.”
“But you say it might have been a woman?” Diana was not inclined to lose sight of that point.
“It might have been a man or a woman,” said Julius. “That will come out when I tell the secret story, so to speak. For the present I will describe it as a person or persons unknown. I don’t mind admitting,” he added, “that they was strangers to me, and I never want to see ’em again. Where’s Uncle Isaac? I haven’t seen him this morning.”
“But when you grappled, Mr. Superbus, you surely knew whether it was a man or a woman?” insisted Diana.
Julius inclined his head.
“Speaking as a married man,” he said discreetly, “I ought to know.”
“But you ‘grappled’?”
“In a sense,” said Mr. Superbus, “only in a sense. When a man grapples with—with—a problem, does he catch it by the ear, or punch it under the jaw? No, ma’am. When I say grappled, I’m speaking in a general way.”
“But you saw——”
Here Julius was on safer ground.
“Well, it looked like a man.... I’ll tell you the truth, it looked like Uncle Isaac. Don’t imagine for one second that itwasUncle Isaac,” he warned them. “I cast no aspersions. He got through the door before I could properly see him.”
“You must have been mistaken, Mr. Superbus,” said Diana.
“I saw it slip past me and out of that door.” Julius pointed.
“You were mistaken,” said Diana. “The man went out of the window and from the window into the courtyard. And then over the wall. The window was found open.”
But Julius was really not interested in theescaping criminal. On the other hand, he was very much interested in his own emotions. For once he felt that the eyes of the world were on him.
“As I lay there,” he said, “the whole of my life flitted before me. I saw my old school and the schoolmaster waiting for me at the door with his cane behind his back. I saw the public-house what I used to use as a young man, and where I met my good lady, owing to taking her father home one night and helping the family to put him to bed——”
“Yes, yes,” interrupted Bobbie, a little unkindly, “it must have been a dreadful experience. Now tell us how you came to be asleep whilst these people were breaking open the safe?”
Mr. Superbus raised his eyebrows and shut his eyes.
“Drugs,” he said. “The coffee must have been drugged last night. I’m a light sleeper. The slightest noise and I’m awake!”
Bobbie nodded.
“Oh, youdidhear the pistol then?” he said.
Diana thought his remark somewhat offensive.
Withthe remark that he had to go to his good lady or his good lady would have to come to him, Julius had taken his departure in a motor ambulance. He could as well have gone by taxi, but he expressed a preference for an ambulance. “One with a red cross,” he suggested. Diana had ’phoned a garage, and Julius Superbus made his exit dramatically, covered with blankets, flat on a stretcher, and smiling the smile of one who was not long for this world but wasn’t afraid to go.
“And what my missus will say when I come home short, I shudder to think,” he said pathetically. “I don’t know: the only satisfaction I’ve got is that it was done on dooty.”
This significantly. When he had gone, Diana asked:
“What is a toe worth, Bobbie? I must send the poor dear something. Would two hundred pounds be too little?”
“It was a little toe,” said Bobbie thoughtfully; “a big toe would have cost you more. Try him with two hundred.”
Diana wrote at once.
She felt in excellent humour despite the empty safe with its hanging door; despite the shadow of tragedy which had impinged upon the house. Eleanor and the cook had made an early return. She had told them to stay away until Tuesday. They had argued (so they said) as to whether she had said Monday or Tuesday, and, to be on the safe side, had returned on the earlier day. Cook’s triumph (she had supported the Tuesday view) was tempered by the chagrin of a lost twenty-four hours of well-paid idleness.
Heloise, from an upper window, saw the detective take his ceremonious departure. She had reason to be glad that Dempsi’s shots had done no greater mischief. She had been noticeably nervous all that morning, starting at every sound. Once Diana had found her hiding—there was no other word for it—in the little book-room and, detected, she had been so frightened and confused that Diana for a second was puzzled, till she remembered that the abrupt departure of Double Dan must have shocked the poor girl beyond understanding.
Diana had finished her letter when Heloise came aimlessly into the room and looked round.Dempsi was sitting on the sofa, his face in his hands, looking moodily into the fire. Bobbie was in his own room, engaged in some mysterious business of his own (he was writing frantic telegrams to Gordon, imploring him to return; these he addressed to every hotel in Paris where he was likely to be found).
Diana looked up with a smile, blotted the envelope and fixed a stamp.
“You must talk with Aunt—with Helosie—and amuse her,” she said.
“Huh?” Dempsi broke off his meditations with a start.
“You have met Heloise?”
So many unlikely things had happened in the past forty-eight hours that it was quite possible she had omitted an introduction. She would not have been surprised if Dempsi denied having ever met Aunt Lizzie.
“Oh yes, we have met,” he said awkwardly. “Did the shot waken you? I owe you ten thousand apologies if it did.”
She shook her head sadly.
“No, no. My mind was too full of—something else. Something that I cannot explain. Uncle—Uncle Isaac has really gone?”
Diana nodded.
“Gone! Out of my life! It doesn’t seem possible.”
Dempsi was vaguely interested, fixing her with a blank look; he also was thinking of something else.
“Dear lady, you seem very sad,” he said mildly.
Her tragic eyes moved till they rested on his.
“Sad! When I think of my old home and my dear father in Michigan——”
“I thought you said Connecticut,” interrupted Diana.
Heloise was a quick thinker.
“Mother lives there,” she said gently. “Poppa is in Michigan. They’re living apart.”
“I see,” said Diana helpfully, “happily separated. Most of one’s friends are. It is so convenient for everybody—it simply means if you keep on good terms with both, that you double the number of your friends. You must feel rather nice about returning to America—having two homes that will welcome you.”
Heloise looked hard at the girl. She was never quite sure whether she was being very serious orvery sarcastic. Other people disliked Diana for the same reason.
“So you’re going home?” Dempsi roused himself to take a benevolent interest in Aunt Lizzie.
“Yes, I’m going back to a new life, thanks to Miss Ford,” she said quietly. “Some day this life will seem like a bad dream; I shall forget everything, except those who have robbed me of that which was dearer than life itself.”
The embarrassed Diana made her escape.
“You go to America?”
“Yes.”
“It is a beautiful country. A wonderful country!” mused Dempsi.
The click of the door as Diana disappeared brought him to his feet, and his expression had undergone a remarkable change. He looked down at Heloise keenly, as he rasped:
“Now, where is that money?”
Heloise glanced at the door, looked over her shoulder: the room was empty.
“You know where it is, Sally!” he said harshly. “Now come across!”
She was not sad any more; on the contrary, she was on the verge of fury. Hands on hips, she faced him.
“Say, Dan, you’re the cleverest thing in male impersonators I know,” she said shrilly. “I guess I wouldn’t be surprised to see you come into this room disguised as a performing flea. But the innocent child is outside your repertoire. You wouldn’t last three bars as Little Eva. Who took the money? You cheap skate! You’re not going to put that over on me! You took the money. You took it, and helped that poor fool make a getaway at the same time. I guess you were working on the safe when he came in.”
“You lie!” He was beside himself with wrath. “I came in after you’d got it out. I didn’t mean to shoot—I guess that was the maddest thing I ever did. But I saw this guy getting through the window, and I guessed what happened. He gave you the money to let him escape!”
She showed her white teeth in a grimace of fury.
“You mean I’ve got it right now? In my pocket?”
“Sure I mean that,” he said doggedly.
She heaved up a long, impatient sigh.
“You’re going to hear from my husband’s lawyers! That’s what! And right here and nowI’m telling you sump’n, you four-flushin’ dog! You took the money, and shot that poor boob when he came in to see who it was breaking the tin! What were you doing in the room all dressed up ready to jump the first train out of London—and leave me flat? You sneak! Haven’t I worked hard for you? Haven’t I sat for hours making an exhibition of my darned ego for that soul-lizard? Didn’t I get out of him the story of Diana, and give you the script and band parts and light cues? Didn’t I pump him till there was noth’n’ left but the squeak and the handle? And—do—you—dare—to turn me down?”
He dared nothing. Her victory was complete when he began to make excuses.
“There was fifty thousand dollars in that safe. All I’ve got is a crossed cheque that’s as useful as confetti at a funeral. It will take two days to clear: Selsbury will be back to-night.”
“Fifty thousand dollars!” she sneered. “You told me nothing about that. Maybe you forgot it? You said there wasn’t a thousand pounds in the job. Didn’t you? You said you’d be glad if you got back expenses. Am I lying? And what’s that cheque anyway? Money she owed Dempsi? Great snakes—the money Dempsithrew at her! I told you that, and I’d forgotten it!”
She ran her fingers through her hair. Her smile was fixed and terrifying. The smile of the Medusas was jocund by comparison.
“I forgot about it until I got a note from her enclosing the money,” he protested. “Why, when that cheque came along, you could have blown me down. It was then I saw big money in the proposition and decided to go after the rest of the stuff. It looked easy to me.”
Impolite scepticism showed in her eye, and his injured air only intensified her suspicions.
“Now, Dan, you’re a wonderful teller of tales and I guess if I were a bit younger I’d fall for it!” she said practically. “But you’re going to be a good little boy and ’fess up to Auntie that you took that money, and then you’ll say ‘Auntie, we’ll split it fifty-fifty.’ And if you don’t, Dan, why, it’s ‘Good morning, judge’ for yours!”
He tried blandishment.
“Honest, now, Sally, you’ve got it,” he said genially. “Let’s get right down to cases and——”
“Would I be here doing this act and allowing my emotions to destroy my beauty if I had it?Shouldn’t I be stepping on it? Would you be exchanging persiflage with anything but the dust of my trail?”
This point appeared logical.
“That’s true,” he said. “Then who opened the safe—not Selsbury?”
“You did,” she nodded, and he went purple.
“Curse you! I told you I didn’t take it....”
The door handle turned. Without looking round they knew it was Diana. She had omitted to enclose a cheque in her letter, she remarked at large, but they were too absorbed in their talk to heed her.
“I just love the country,” sighed Heloise. “To hear the old blue jays singing and watch the clouds coming up over the hill and feel the breeze in your face—why, there’s nothing quite like it, Mr. Dempsi.”
“I’ve never seen you two talking before,” said Diana with a smile. Which was true.
In a few seconds she was gone....
“Now see here, Sally, we haven’t time to act foolishly over this business. The stuff was taken, maybe by that guy Selsbury. What did you come here for, anyway?” It was a question that he had been seeking an opportunity to ask.
“I came here when I found you were trying to work the job as a one-man performance. I know you, Dan; you’ve got a mighty bad reputation amongst honest crooks.”
He laughed without merriment.
“I’m trying to live it down. Where has he gone—did he tell you he was leaving?”
“No; we’d given up confidences before he left. You said he would come back. I’ve got it in my bones that you’re right. I guess he got it.”
“But he couldn’t have worked a job like this single-handed,” said the other. “Why, your husband couldn’t have opened that safe more scientifically....”
She was not willing to be turned by gross flattery.
“Cut out the small talk and get right down to the grand facts of life,” she said briskly. “Did I find Selsbury and affinitize him or did I not? Did I....”
He snarled at her like an angry mongrel.
“‘Did I, didn’t I’—great Moses! Do I want all that stuff? Why did you allow him to come back here?”
“Let him come back?” she said scornfully. “I made him come back! When I got him into thehouse, I had him like that. I knew how you’d turn up. I knew there was money here, and I was going to stay with it. It’s a funny thing about me that, of all the affinities I’ve met, noth’n’ is quite so close as money. Noth’n’ understands me better or talks more like Governor George Demosthenes.”
The man was finished. He too was a philosopher.
“Well, there’s no help for it,” he said with a groan that he could not suppress. “We’ll have to share. The old terms, mind—none of your fifty-fifty stuff. Seventy-thirty.”
“Seventy-thirty! Well, I admire cold blood! It’s fifty-fifty or nothing with me, Dan. But there ain’t anything to share.”
Here he corrected her.
“She’s paying up. I’ve given her back the cheque. If you wait half-an-hour she’ll have it cashed. Now are you satisfied? Sixty-forty?”
“Fifty-fifty!” said Heloise firmly. “You’d never forgive yourself if you gave me less.”
They wrangled for ten minutes; in the end Heloise gained a victory for principle.
Eleanorcame furtively in search of her mistress and found her in Gordon’s room, valiantly overhauling his wardrobe.
“The clergyman, miss,” she said, with an air of mystery that was natural.
The well-trained servant has an air appropriate to the calling of every visitor. Dread and a funereal solemnity for doctors, a primness for elderly ladies, a suppressed blitheness to announce the young, mystery for the clergy; only a lawyer baffles interpretation. The secret dispositions of lawyers have never been probed.
“The clergyman!” Diana’s heart fell.
“A priest, ma’am, by his clothes,” said Eleanor.
She was a Primitive Methodist and was secretly thrilled by priests and nuns.
Not before had Diana considered Mr. Dempsi’s sectarian leanings. Nor had she before had sufficient confidence to meet the man whom she guessed had been sent by Dempsi to arrange the details of her servitude.
“I will come down,” she said, and took the card from Eleanor’s hand.
She read the few printed words carefully, then she read them again and passed her hand over her eyes.