The Almost Perfect Murder Part 29

X.

By-and-by Jarboe came to the office to say: "Mr. Henry Varick's compliments to Madame Storey. He is dining downstairs at half-past seven, and wishes to know if Madame Storey will do him the honour of joining him."

It amused my employer to treat the magnificent Jarboe in an off-hand and facetious manner. "But, Jarboe, I have nothing to wear!" she said.

He never smiled. "Under the circ.u.mstances, Madame, I am sure Mr. Henry will understand."

"Very well. Tell him that Madame Storey and Miss Brickley will be happy to join him."

Jarboe looked a little dubious at the inclusion of my name. However, he marched off.

"Mr. Henry has decided to take the bull by the horns," remarked Mme. Storey to me.

When the hour arrived, my mistress and I went slowly down the sweeping stairway arm in arm. How I wish I could convey in a phrase the stateliness of that great house. I think proportion had a lot to do with it. The height and width of those n.o.ble halls upstairs and down were in exactly the right relation to their length. There were several footmen in the lower hall in plain evening dress. The astute face of our man Crider was amongst them. Certainly no time had been lost in installing and outfitting him. One of the footmen (not Crider) approached us, saying: "Mr. Henry is in the gold room," and led the way across the hall into the middle one of the three great drawing-rooms that filled the Fifth Avenue side of the house. Our young host came forward to greet us.

"I have already seen you today," he said to Mme. Storey, "but I did not know you. My mother has told me about you now, and what you are doing for us. It is wonderful of you!"

My employer brought me forward: "My secretary, Miss Brickley."

I turned hot and cold when he looked at me. He had the bluest eyes I have ever beheld, blue as the tropical sea. It was perfectly ridiculous, but the same feeling of helplessness came over me every time he looked at me. After a courteous greeting, he paid no further attention to me. Giving an arm to Mme. Storey, he led her through the state suite.

"It was very good of you to have us downstairs," she said.

"Oh," he said, with a painful gesture, "nothing is to be gained by crying and carrying on about our loss. I'm done with crying now. Things have got to go on. I ordered dinner downstairs hoping that I could persuade you to join me. We must become acquainted; we must work together."

"Surely," said Mme. Storey.

I resented her coolness. I was enraged by the thought that she was, as I thought, trying to bring the murder home to him. G.o.d forgive me! I was jealous of my mistress. Issuing out of the farther drawing-room, we crossed the great central hall again. The dining-room was opposite. It was another long and lofty room with a row of windows at the end that must have looked out on the court. It was dark except for a cl.u.s.ter of shaded candles on the small table, and another cl.u.s.ter on the sideboard. The density of the shadows made the lofty ceiling recede even farther. I felt like an insect under it. Yet, as I presently learned, this was only the family dining-room. There was a state dining-room somewhere else.

Mr. Varick put Mme. Storey at his right and me at his left. "I ordered a small table," he said, "because the family mahogany is depressing for so intimate a party. Would you like more light?"

"This is perfect," said Mme. Storey.

The meal commenced; hors d'oeuvres, soup, fish, and so on. In the beginning the conversation was merely polite; it seemed to be tacitly agreed that all painful subjects must be deferred until we had at least got our food down. n.o.body cared about eating, and many things were sent away untasted. It threatened to go on for ever, until Mme. Storey said in her brusque and humorous way: "Look here, must we eat any more?"

"No, no!" he said, rousing himself. He spoke to the footman behind his chair. "Never mind the game, or dessert. Just fruit, coffee, cognac, and cigarettes."

When this was put on the table the servants left the room for good. Mr. Varick leaned towards my mistress. "Well ... what's the real situation?" he asked in a strained voice.

She spread out her hands. "I have collected a lot of information, but I seem to be no nearer a solution. All I have done is to detain the Princess Cristina."

"She could hardly have done it!" he said with a half smile. In spite of grief and fatigue that incorrigible smile was always near the surface. "She had nothing against the old man. If it had been me, now."

"My idea, too," said Mme. Storey. "But I had to prevent her sailing."

Quite simply, and with a glint of mirth in his weary eyes, he told us of his affair with the Princess. To his father his casual frankness must have seemed scandalous, but it is only the way of the younger generation. "It was never put up to me in so many words, but of course I knew they wanted me to marry her. And I was willing; she was easy to look at. Besides, I wanted to please the old boy; I've been a thorn in his side ever since I grew up. I had made such a mess of my own affairs always, I thought they might as well have a try at settling them.

"And so it started. But I soon forgot it was a made-up affair. I had never known anybody like Cristina. In fact, I got perfectly crazy about her, though I suppose it didn't go very deep. But I never let on to her she had me going; I didn't dare. For she was a terrible girl, you know, imperious. Wanted to get her little foot firmly planted on your neck, and keep you down. Well, not for Joseph! So I just joshed her. What a delicious little spitfire! We spent the time quarrelling like devils--and making up. It was a heap of fun. Be cause, you see, in public she was always very much the Princess, and as soon as we got alone together, whew! the lid blew off!

"It wasn't Cristina that I baulked at; I could have tamed the little termagant, and enjoyed doing it. It was her life, her gang, it was everything she stood for that stuck in my crop. I don't know if I can explain what I mean. That crowd of decayed aristocrats and cast-off royalties that fluffs around Europe from one expensive resort to another sponging on millionaires. In a going concern like England, the King is a real person, but the others are just play-actors. The whole business of Highnessing them, and going down on your marrow bones, and slipping them loans on the sly, is a comic sham. Yet my Dad couldn't see it. If he could buy lunch for a hereditary Prince he was happy.... Do you know Europe, Madame Storey?"

"I know it," she said dryly.

"Then I need say no more. By G.o.d! that atmosphere would have suffocated me! I'm an American. I must have air. I must be free to say my say, and walk out on the show if I don't like it."

"Oh, quite!"

"So I saw almost from the first that marriage was out of the question, and after that I was just out for the fun there was in it. I swear I never thought Cristina was taking it seriously. A hundred times a day she called me a boor, a peasant, a barbarian--with tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs. She said she'd sooner marry her footman than me. However, since she came to America, I suppose she did take it seriously. Those girls over there don't savvy like ours do. Maybe it's because they don't want to. At any rate, they're not such good sports. Oh, well, anything I ever started was bound to turn out badly."

He swallowed a pony of brandy, and continued: "Where I made my mistake was in not having it out with the old man in plain words. But it was impossible to have a thing out with him, unless you both got in a rip-roaring pa.s.sion. When I tried to talk to him about it, he turned it aside. So I just drifted. When we left Europe I thought the scheme had been dropped. Wrong again! I was soon made to understand by little things that the match was settled. In short, that I had to marry the girl. That turned me stubborn and I..." He suddenly broke off and took another drink.

"You what?" prompted Mme. Storey.

"Oh, I made up my mind I'd be d.a.m.ned if I would!"

This was obviously not what he had started to say. However, my employer let it pa.s.s. "Her coming brought things to a head," she suggested.

"Yes," he said ruefully. "I lit out. But the old man ran me to earth, and I had to come back. Got here Monday, day before yesterday. We had it out then with a vengeance. I tried to reason with him, but he wouldn't listen. Insisted that I had compromised myself. That made me laugh. 'Good G.o.d!' I said, 'if a fellow had to marry every girl he had petted, Brigham Young would be nowhere!' He said, in his stiff way: 'It is somewhat different when a Princess is involved!' 'Princess, my eye!' I said; 'her family was kicked out of that job nearly twenty years ago!' We were soon shouting at each other in the old way. He said I had allowed him to commit himself so far that he couldn't draw back, and I said that I didn't give a d.a.m.n for his commitments, that I was the one who had to marry the girl. He mounted his highest horse. He said that I had to marry the girl, and there was no argument about it, so then I played..." He suddenly bit his lip, and seized his gla.s.s again.

"Played your trump card?" suggested Mme. Storey.

"No," he said with an embarra.s.sed smile, "I didn't have any trumps. Played my last card, I was going to say. I said I wouldn't marry her, and stood pat."

There was clearly an important omission here, but as Mme. Storey was not supposed to be examining him, she couldn't very well take notice of it. He went on to describe the final scenes of his quarrel with his father. In doing so he completely forgot himself; his cheeks became flushed, and his eyes sparkled with remembered anger as he acted the scene out. "He said he'd cut me off without a cent! And I said go to it!"

In the middle of this the blue eyes suddenly went blank, and he caught himself up gasping. "Oh, G.o.d! what am I saying! And he lying upstairs cold!" He sprang up from his chair, and walked away into the shadows. He leaned his arms against the wall, and dropped his head upon them. It was terribly affecting.

"However, that has got nothing to do with the tragedy of yesterday," said Mme. Storey soothingly.

"No," he said heavily. He returned and dropped into his chair. All the light had gone out of his face. He stared before him, fingering a wine-gla.s.s without noticing what he was doing. "That is a complete mystery," he murmured. "Surely the doctors must be mistaken. Who would want to kill my Dad?"

"Did he cut you off?" asked Mme. Storey--though she knew very well.

"Yes," he said indifferently. "Made a new will yesterday morning."

"When did you learn that?"

"Just a little while ago, from my mother. The lawyer has talked to her."

"How did your father receive you yesterday afternoon?" asked Mme. Storey in a conversational tone.

I could have shrieked a warning to him, but anyhow it would have come too late. He fell directly into her trap. "Well, he had quieted down some," he said gloomily. "But he wouldn't let me talk."

A second later he realised that he had betrayed himself. He lifted a ghastly face towards my employer.

"How ... how did you know I was here yesterday?" he stammered.

"I didn't know," she answered. "You have just told me."

A horrible silence fell upon us three. I was enraged with my mistress. It didn't seem like the square thing to do, to accept his invitation to dine merely for the purpose of entrapping him. On the other hand I felt a kind of fierce joy in the young man's desperate situation. It seemed to bring me a little closer to him. If the whole world abandons him I will still be his friend! I told myself.

XI.

After a while Henry Varick raised his head, and said with a kind of weary defiance: "Well, suppose I did see my father yesterday afternoon? What of it?"

"Nothing," said Mme. Storey mildly. "I am only wondering why you tried to conceal the fact?"

"Well, I was tempted because it seemed easy to conceal it. I came through a secret entrance, and I met n.o.body. n.o.body knew I was in the house except ... my mother."

"And Miss Gilsey," put in Mme. Storey.

He stared at her again. "You are a terrible woman!" he murmured. "... Yes, Miss Gilsey saw me come, because she is always with my mother. But she would not have betrayed me."

"Nor your mother's maids?"

"Nor my mother's maids either. I didn't notice whether they saw me or not.... As for my reason for concealing my visit, surely that must be clear to you. It appears that my father was taken sick a few minutes after I had left him. Anybody could foresee what a nasty story that would start. The scapegrace son, and all that. My whole past life raked up. My object was simply to keep a dirty mess out of the papers. I had no fear of the outcome. Why, no sensible person would believe that I had done it. A son does not poison his father! It is incredible! Am I a monster?"

Mme. Storey expressed no comment.

"And, anyhow," he went on, "what a fool I would be to make an attempt on my father's life when he had just made a will cutting me off!"

"But you did not know that," she coldly pointed out. "You told me you had just found it out. Yesterday all you knew was that your father intended to change his will. On former occasions it had not been accomplished so quickly."

The young man pressed his head between his hands. "Oh, G.o.d! what a frightful position I am in!" he groaned.

"Why did you come back yesterday?" asked Mme. Storey.

"For the most natural reason in the world. I had cooled off. I was sorry for some of the things I had said. I hoped he might be sorry too."

"Were you prepared then to accept the Princess?"

"Oh, no! There was no question about that," he answered quickly. "I just wanted to say I was sorry. I suppose it won't be believed, but I loved my father. Besides, why not confess it? I am only human. I was worried about the will. I care for money as little as any man, but the threat that had been held over me was that Theodore Varick, my father's nephew, was to get it all, in order to carry on the family traditions--Oh, my G.o.d! The thought that that ... excuse me! that he might be able to crow over me! that snooper! that worm!--he's not a man, he's a water-cooler! Why, for the last five years he's been sucking up to my dad, sympathising with him for having such a graceless son! Gad! once I had the pleasure of smas.h.i.+ng his pasty face and I hope to do it again! Anything to keep Theodore out! I came back prepared to eat humble pie, to agree to anything short of marrying myself to that foreign woman."

"You went direct to your mother's room?" prompted Mme. Storey.

"Yes."

"Did you send word to your father that you were in the house?"

"No, indeed, he would only have refused to see me. I went to his study. I went through all the rooms of the two suites so I wouldn't show myself outside."

"Was the Princess still with him?"

"No, he was alone when we..."

"Who was with you?" interrupted Mme. Storey.

"n.o.body," he said. "A slip of the tongue. I was thinking of my mother. We had been discussing whether she ought to come with me, but she didn't."

"Now, come," said my employer with dry good-humour. "Isn't it a fact that Mrs. Varick was out of the house altogether at that hour?"

"Well ... yes," he said sullenly. "If you know everything already why ask me? She was out. Is that important?"

"No," said Mme. Storey. "Go on."

"Cristina must have just gone, I could smell her perfume, and my father was still fussed."

"That made it more difficult for you then."

"No, on the contrary, I think he was relieved that the thing was done with. He treated me pretty decent--for him. Of course, he was pretty stiff with me, he was never the one to admit he had been wrong. But I think he showed it a little. At any rate, he didn't refuse my hand. He had his tea, and I drank a whisky and soda ... Gabbitt must have found the gla.s.s! Was it he who gave me away?"

"No," said Mme. Storey. "Every servant in the house knew you had been here, and all of them lied."

"Well, bless their hearts!" he said with a twisted smile. "I seem to get everybody in wrong. It would have been better if I'd never been born!"

"What did your father say to you?" she asked.

"He scolded me for having sneaked into the house secretly. Said it was very infra dig. He was afraid somebody might find me in his study. He sent me away, and told me if I would come back after things had cleared up--by that he meant after Cristina had left the country; she was not named between us--and would come in by the front door, he would be glad to see me."

"He did not refer to the new will he had made?"

"Not a word! He wouldn't, you see, if he was feeling more kindly towards me. He would just tear it up afterwards. At any rate, I thought he had climbed down a good deal, and I went away happy.... At Buffalo in the middle of the night the telegram was put on the train that brought me back. And now everything is ruined! My father is dead, and Theodore has his shoes, I suppose!" His head went down between his hands again.

"Where were you going on the train?" asked Mme. Storey.

"Nowhere in particular. Just keeping out of the way until Cristina sailed."

"How unlucky that there was no witness to the final interview with your father," remarked Mme. Storey. It had the sound of a question.

He hesitated for the fraction of a second; his eyes bolted painfully; then he blurted out: "No, there was no witness."