CHAPTER XXIIITHE HEARING EAR
Janet, coming swiftly along the hall toward her mother’s bedroom, met a white-capped nurse advancing toward her.
“How is mother?” she demanded.
“Resting more easily now, Miss Fordyce; the medicine gave her almost immediate relief.”
“Thank heaven!” Janet moved forward a few steps intending to enter her mother’s bedroom, but the nurse detained her.
“I beg your pardon; your brother and Dr. Potter are with Mrs. Fordyce just now. Seeing so many together might overexcite her. Could you not come in a little later?”
“I suppose so,” but Janet looked troubled. “You are sure she is better, nurse?”
“Yes, indeed,” with a reassuring smile.
“Then please ask my brother and Dr. Potter to stop in the Chinese room when they leave mother. I would like to talk to them privately before our guests arrive for dinner.”
“I will tell them,” promised the nurse, and turned to go.
“Just a moment,” Janet gazed perplexedly at thepretty woman standing just under the hall light. “Haven’t I seen you before?”
“I don’t think so, Miss Fordyce,” Kathryn Allen’s smile was most engaging. “I am sure I should not have forgotten.” And the subtle admiration of Janet’s good looks and pretty gown conveyed by her intonation, caused the young girl to flush warmly. “Do not distress yourself on your mother’s account; Dr. Potter and Dr. McLane both declare her attack comes from overexertion. Rest and absolute quiet are all that she needs to effect a complete recovery.”
“Oh, thank you, nurse,” and Janet, much relieved, ran down the staircase.
A disagreeable smile spoiled Kathryn Allen’s good looks as she watched Janet disappear from view; then with an impatient sigh, she continued her interrupted trip down the hall toward the bedroom which had been assigned to her. As she reached the elevator shaft the door opened and a man stepped out into the hall.
“You, Joe!” Though startled out of her usual calm, Kathryn was careful to keep her voice lowered. “What are you doing here? How dare you take such a risk?”
“The risk is small,” he answered cautiously. “I pushed the wrong button and never discovered my mistake until the lift stopped at this floor,” a satisfied smile completed the short explanation. “I had to see you, Kathryn. Why did you come here?”
“I gave up my other case yesterday, as you know,”tartly. “I can’t afford to be idle. At the hospital I found Dr. McLane’s call for a nurse to take a light case, and came here. Money is money, dear boy.” She did not think it necessary to add that she had considered the opportunity of becoming an inmate of the Fordyce household a God-given chance.
“You should have consulted me first,” fumed Joe, displeased at the lightness of her manner. “I only found out by chance from McLane that you were here. Have you seen the evening paper?”
The urgency of his tone impressed her. From above came the sound of advancing footsteps.
“Quick, this way,” she muttered, and pulled him into the deep shadows afforded by a bow window and its curtains.
Downstairs in the Chinese room Janet waited for her brother and Paul Potter with ever growing impatience. The thick soft carpet deadened the sound of her restless trampling back and forth. She could not keep still. She fingered the rich oriental hangings, scanned the valuable jade and carved ivory ornaments in the glass cabinets; then turned her attention to the collection of Chinese armor occupying its allotted space, and traced with curious fingers the beautiful handiwork on the scabbards and daggers and carefully inspected the naked blades themselves. The atmosphere of the room was heavy with the incense of the East. Mrs. Fordyce had selected the room as her own private sanctum in preference to the larger library, and spent all her evenings there in the absence of Janet and Duncan.Her fondness for things oriental had been indulged by her husband, who had spent a small fortune collecting costly furniture, curios, paintings, and silks from China to gratify her whim.
Tired of contemplating the armor Janet stepped over to the inlaid teakwood desk, and seating herself before it, idly opened one of the numerous magazines which her mother had left there. Suddenly her attention was arrested by a photograph of Tom Nichols, and she turned eagerly to the printed page, to find that the article was descriptive of Fort Myer and other army posts. She took a second look at Tom’s picture. It was a good likeness. Janet’s eyes grew very tender, and impulsively she stooped and kissed the picture. She jerked herself erect as the hall door opened, and a hot blush dyed her cheeks, but the question on her lips remained unspoken. Marjorie Langdon was confronting her.
Shutting the door softly behind her, Marjorie advanced into the room and quietly seated herself opposite Janet. The contrast between the two girls was noticeable in the extreme. Janet made a dainty picture of fresh young beauty in her perfectly fitting, expensive low-neck evening dress, while Marjorie, her white crêpe de chine waist and walking skirt covered by a heavy driving coat and minus her hat, looked spent and weary. She had aged in the last few tortured hours, and the hands she rested on the flat-top desk were trembling from fatigue and nervousness.
“You?” Janet’s agitation was perceptible in her voice and manner. “What—what do you want? What are you doing here?”
“I came, Janet, hoping that you had thought better of your extraordinary behavior to me this morning,” answered Marjorie looking quietly at her, but Janet did not flinch before her direct gaze.
“Don’t make things harder for me, Marjorie,” she said sadly. “I was—we all were—very fond of you; why did you abuse our trust? Mother would gladly have helped you out of any pressing money difficulties.”
Marjorie’s incredulous stare deepened suddenly into horror.
“Janet! Janet!” she gasped. “Does your moral obliquity blind you to all sense of honor?”
Janet stiffened and her manner hardened. “You forget yourself.”
Marjorie’s hardly tried self-control snapped, and leaning back in her chair she gave way to wild laughter which ended in sobs. Janet regarded her in increasing alarm.
“Go! Go at once!” she ordered.
The sharp command restored Marjorie to some semblance of composure. “No, I shall not go,” she said more quietly. “You are right, Janet, I have forgotten myself—to an absurd extent; but I’ll do so no longer. Your father shall learn the truth tonight.”
“He will turn you out of the house as a common adventuress.”
Marjorie leaned across the desk and contemplated Janet in silence.
“Janet,” she began at length. “I have never shown you anything but kindness; I have tried in every way to see that you had a good time and were enjoying yourself. In Heaven’s name, what has aroused your animosity? Why should you hound me in this manner?”
“I’m not hounding you,” protested Janet, tears springing to her eyes. “I have tried very hard to blind myself to your—your——”
“My what?” a dangerous light in her eyes.
But Janet dodged the question. “You must go,” she said, her words tumbling over each other in her haste. “My guests will arrive here in a few minutes. Pauline must not find you here—there will be another scene——” Janet fairly wrung her hands—“People will talk so.”
“Quite right, they will,” but the significant emphasis passed completely over Janet’s head. “I have no objection to confronting Pauline again, and particularly do I wish to see Tom Nichols.”
“Ah, indeed; and what do you wish to see him about?”
“I desire his advice,” calmly. “I started to go to Fort Myer this afternoon and got as far as the Aqueduct Bridge in Georgetown when I recollected he was to dine here——”
“And so decided to come here yourself,” Janet laughed recklessly. “Your motives are not so pure as you would lead me to suppose.”
“Stop!” Marjorie’s imperious tone made even the jealous girl pause. “I think you have taken leave of your senses.”
“You are welcome to your opinion,” retorted Janet defiantly. “But I insist on your leaving this house. Do you wish to be turned out again?”
“I have never been turned out.” Marjorie was struggling to keep her temper within bounds. “I left this house of my own accord this morning. My clothes are still here, and here I shall remain until I am dismissed by your mother.”
Janet’s eyes were dark with passion. “You dare to stay on as my chaperon?”
“Yes. Your behavior to me tonight has made me reconsider my quixotic effort to shield you; from now on I shall strive to clear myself of your lying testimony against me.”
“You leave me but one alternative....”
“And that is——?” as Janet paused.
“To have the servants put you out of the house.”
“Janet!” Marjorie gazed at the young girl in stupefaction, and the latter’s eyes wavered and fell as she caught the keen reproach and pain which Marjorie’s face betrayed. For a second she battled with her better self.
“I will give you just three minutes to leave this room and house of your own accord,” she said clearly. “At the end of that time I shall ring for the servants.” And she picked up the hammer belonging to the beautiful Chinese gong which her mother used to summon her maid.
In the stillness the ticking of the dock on the desk was plainly audible. Slowly, very slowly Marjorie rose and walked with deliberation over to the door opening on the private staircase which led to Mrs. Fordyce’s suite of rooms on the floor above. Janet followed her movements with distended eyes; then the chamois-covered hammer in her hand rose and fell, stroke on stroke, until the room vibrated with the mellow tones of the Chinese gong.
Out in the wide hall a man, partly concealed by the heavy portières, jumped nervously back from the keyhole of the door as the sound of the gong reached him, and turning, scuddled down the hall just as Dr. Paul Potter came down the broad winding staircase. The latter paused as the clear bell-like vibrations of the gong drifted to his ears, bringing with them a note of urgency and appeal which he was quick to answer.
Locating the sound, he made for the Chinese room and rapped sharply on the panels of the closed door. He waited an appreciable instant, then, receiving no response, turned the knob and walked into the room. As he crossed the threshold his foot struck a small object and sent it spinning ahead of him. His eyes followed the bright silver, and he was about to advance and pick up the pencil when, looking up, he spied Janet sitting in front of the desk. Her attitude arrested his attention. Crossing the intervening space at a bound, he felt her pulse and heart; then stepped back, and his keen gaze swept the room. Convinced that they were alone, he againbent over her and laid his hand lightly on her bare neck.
“Feeling better?” he inquired some moments later.
“Yes,” Janet shivered and pulled her scarf up about her shoulders. “The incense here always makes me feel deadly faint. I don’t see how mother stands it.”
“It is trying; suppose I open the window,” moving toward it.
“Please don’t,” she shivered again. “I am quite cold enough already. I would like a glass of water,” pointing to a carafe and tumblers standing on a small table near the window. Potter quickly got it for her and watched the warm color return gradually into her pale cheeks. “That tastes so good. You kept me waiting an awfully long time, Doctor.”
“I am sorry; your father and I were reminiscing. I thought Duncan was here with you.”
“Duncan here?” He wondered at the alarm in her tone. “No, he hasn’t been near me. How is mother?”
“Very much improved.”
“I am so glad,” in a relieved voice. “I felt such a pig to have the dinner tonight, but mother positively refused to let me call it off. Father said it was better to humor her.”
“He’s quite right; your mother must not be excited by discussions or dissensions.”
“We never have them,” she laughed saucily. “We are a united family ruled by mother.”
“I have a great regard for Mrs. Fordyce,” replied Potter gravely, not liking her flippant tone.
“Have you just come from her room?”
“No, your father and I were talking in the boudoir.”
“Did you see——” a knock on the hall door interrupted her. “Come in.”
“Miss Swann is in the drawing-room, Miss Janet,” announced the footman.
“Gracious! I must run,” Janet gathered up her scarf, fan, and handkerchief. “If you see Duncan, Doctor, please ask him to hurry,” and she departed.
As the door closed behind her Potter walked over and picked up the silver pencil. He was still examining it when Duncan entered the room.
“Where’s Janet?” he demanded.
“Gone into the drawing-room,” Potter slipped the silver pencil inside his white waistcoat pocket. “Whom do the initials ‘J. C. C.’ stand for?”
“‘J. C. C.’,” echoed Duncan reflectively. “Let me see. Oh, I guess J. Calhoun-Cooper.”
“A friend of yours?”
“An acquaintance,” shortly. “His sister was at Madame Yvonett’s this afternoon.”
“Oh!” Potter’s fingers sought the lobe of his right ear. “I believe you said they were dining here tonight.”
“Yes. I asked Janet to recall their invitations, but she refused to do so.”
“Quite right; unless you wish to declare war on them.”
“I’m willing to do it,” Duncan scowled savagely. “The way Pauline dared to address Madame Yvonett made my blood boil. Janet promised to see that I did not sit next to her. Joe, Pauline’s brother, made a mistake in the dinner hour and arrived here some time ago; he sent word to me by Henderson not to hurry, he’d wait in the billiard-room. The poor fool must be tired of knocking the balls about by himself.”
Potter looked irresolutely at Duncan, but before he could make up his mind to a definite course, the telephone bell in the library across the hall rang insistently, and with a hasty word of excuse Duncan dashed to answer it. Picking up the evening paper from the chair where Janet had dropped it, Potter read it hurriedly while awaiting Duncan’s return.
“Come on in the drawing-room, Paul,” called the latter from the doorway a few minutes later. “Janet has sent a hurry call for us,” and as he joined him the physician saw the butler’s broad back disappearing in the distance.
“Any news from Madame Yvonett?” he asked, as they started for the ballroom.
“Miss Graves has just telephoned no word has been received from Marjorie,” Duncan looked as anxious as he felt. “I wish to heaven she was here.”
“So do I; not only on your account, Duncan, but to settle one point once for all,” the physician paused doubtfully.
“What are you driving at?” growled Duncan.
“Your father has just told me that he has purchasedthe famous Maharajah ruby, and now has it in his possession....”
“Yes, he bought it to give to mother on their wedding anniversary tomorrow; goodness knows why she hates ostentatious display in jewels as in everything else.”
“Has your father spoken of his intention to buy the ruby?”
“No.”
“Um!” A dry smile twisted Potter’s lips. “The jeweler who conducted the sale must have talked. The evening paper gives a full account of your father’s valuable purchase, and a description of the ruby. Now, if only Miss Langdon were here we would soon find out how disinterested are her thieving propensities.”
“I have a great mind to punch your head!” said Duncan furiously. “Heaven only knows where the poor girl is tonight; and you stand there and dare insinuate—— Oh, come into the drawing-room and meet——” his voice died in his throat.
Standing receiving the guests, looking extremely beautiful in her low-cut evening dress, was Marjorie Langdon.