Michael O'Halloran Part 24

Minturn.

"Of course Nellie!" exclaimed the girl.

"Leslie, will you stand by me, and show me the way, all you can?" asked Mrs. Minturn anxiously. "I'll lose every friend I have got; my house must be torn down and built up from the bas.e.m.e.nt on a new system, as to management; and I haven't an idea _how_ to do it. Oh, I hope James can help me."

"You may be sure James will know and can help you," comforted Leslie.

"You'll be leaving for the seash.o.r.e in a few days; install a complete new retinue, and begin all fresh. Half the servants you keep, really interested in their work, would make you far more comfortable than you are now."

"Yes, I think that too!" agreed Mrs. Minturn eagerly. "Some way I feel as if I were turning against Lucette. I never want to see her again, after I tell her to go; not that I know what I shall do without her.

The boys will probably burn down the house, and where I'll find a woman who will tolerate them, I don't know."

"Employ a man until you get control," suggested Leslie. "They are both old enough; hire a man, and explain all you want to him. They'd be afraid of a man."

"Afraid!" cried Mrs. Minturn. "They are afraid of Lucette! I can't understand it. I wonder if James----"

"Poor James!" laughed Leslie. "Honestly Nellie, don't impose too much of your--your work on him. Undertake it yourself. Show him what a woman you are."

"Great Heavens, Leslie, you don't know what you are saying!" cried Mrs.

Minturn. "My only hope lies in deceiving him. If I showed him the woman I am, as I saw myself back there in that swamp an hour ago, he'd take one look, and strangle me for the public good."

"How ridiculous!" exclaimed Leslie. "Why must a woman always rush from one extreme to the other? Choose a middle course and keep it."

"That's what I am telling you I must do," said Mrs. Minturn. "Leslie, it is wonderful how I feel. I'm almost flying. Do you honestly think it is possible that there is going to be something new, something interesting, something really worth while in the world for me?"

"I know it," said Leslie. "Such interest, such novelty, such joy as you never have experienced!"

With that hope in her heart, her eyes filled with excitement, Nellie Minturn rang her bell, ran past her footman and hurried up the stairs.

She laid her flowers on a table, summoned her maid, then began throwing off her hat and outer clothing.

"Do you know if Mr. Minturn is here?"

"Yes. He----" began the maid.

"Never mind what 'he.' Get out the prettiest, simplest dress I own, and the most becoming," she ordered. "Be quick! Can't you see I'm in a hurry?"

"Mrs. Minturn, I think you will thank me for telling you there is an awful row in the library," said the maid.

"'An awful row?'" Mrs. Minturn paused.

"Yes. I think they are killing Lucette," explained the maid. "She's shrieked b.l.o.o.d.y murder two or three times."

"Who? What do you mean?" demanded Mrs. Minturn.

She slipped on the bathrobe she had picked up, and stood holding it together, gazing at the maid.

"Mr. Minturn came with two men. One was a park policeman we know. They went into the library and sent for Lucette. There she goes again!"

"Is there any way I could see, could hear, what is going on, without being seen?"

"There's a door to the den from the back hall, and that leads to the library," suggested the maid.

"Show me! Help me!" begged Mrs. Minturn.

As they pa.s.sed the table the orchids hanging over the edge caught on the trailing robe and started to fall. Mrs. Minturn paused to push them back, then studied the flowers an instant, and catching up the bunch carried it along. She closed the den door after her without a sound, and creeping beside the wall, hid behind the door curtain and peeped into the library. There were two men who evidently were a detective and a policeman. She saw Lucette backed against the wall, her hands clenched, her eyes wild with fear. She saw her husband's back, and on the table beside him a little box, open, its wrappings near, its contents terrifying to the woman.

"To sum up then," said Mr. Minturn in tones she never before had heard: "I can put on oath this man, who will be forced to tell what he witnessed or be impeached by others who saw it at the same time, and _are ready to testify to what he said;_ I can produce the boy who came to tell me the part he took in it; I have the affidavit and have just come from the woman who interfered and followed you here in an effort to save Elizabeth; I have this piece of work in my hands, done by one of the greatest scientists and two of the best surgeons living.

Although you shrink from it, I take pleasure in showing it to you. This ragged seam is an impress of the crack you made in a tiny skull lying in a vault out at Forest Hill."

He paused, holding a plaster cast before the woman.

"It's a little bit of a thing," he said deliberately. "She was a tiny creature to have been done to death at your hands. I hope you will see that small pink face as I see it, and feel the soft hair in your fingers, and--after all, I can't go on with that. But I am telling you, and showing you exactly what you are facing, because you must go from this house with these men; your things will be sent. You must leave this city and this country on the boat they take you to, and where you go you will be watched; if ever you dare take service handling a _child_ again, I shall have you promptly arrested and forced to answer for the cold-blooded murder of my little daughter. Live you must, I suppose, but not longer by the torture of children. Go, before I strangle you as you deserve!"

How Mrs. Minturn came to be standing beside her husband, she never afterward knew; only that she was, pulling down his arm to stare at the white cast. Then she looked up at him and said simply: "But Lucette didn't murder her; it was I. I was her mother. I knew she was beaten. I knew she was abused! I didn't stop my pleasure to interfere, lest I should lose a minute by having to see to her myself! A woman did come to me, and a boy! I knew they were telling the truth! I didn't know it was so bad, but I knew it must have been dreadful, to bring them. I had my chance to save her. I went to her as the woman told me to, and because she was quiet, I didn't even turn her over. I didn't run a finger across her little head. I didn't call a surgeon. I preferred an hour of pleasure to taking the risk of being disturbed. I am quite as guilty as Lucette! Have them take me with her."

James Minturn stepped back, gazing at his wife. Then he motioned the men toward the door, so with the woman they left the room.

"Lucette just had her sentence," he said, "now for yours! Words are useless! I am leaving your house with my sons. They _are_ my sons, and with the proof I hold, you will not claim them. If you do, you will not get them. I am taking them to the kind of a house I deem suitable for them, and to such care as I can provide. I shall keep them in my presence constantly as possible until I see just what harm has been done, and how to remedy what can be changed. I shall provide such teachers as I see fit for them, and devote the remainder of my life to them. All I ask of you is to spare them the disgrace of forcing me to _prove_ my right to them, or ever having them realize just _what_ happened to their sister, and _your_ part in it."

She held the flowers toward him.

"I brought these----" she began, then paused. "You wouldn't believe me, if I should tell you. You are right! Perfectly justified! Of course I shall not bring this before the public. Go!"

At the door he looked back. She had dropped into a chair beside the table, holding the cast in one hand, the fringed orchids in the other.

CHAPTER VII

_Peaches' Preference in Blessings_

"_G.o.d ain't made a sweeter girl 'An Lily, at keeps my heart a-whirl. If I was to tell an awful whopper, I'd get took by the cross old copper._"

Thus chanted Mickey at his door, his hands behind him. Peaches stretched both hers toward him as usual; but he stood still, swinging in front of him a beautiful doll, for a little sick girl. A baby doll in a long snowy dress and a lace cap; it held outstretched arms, but was not heavy enough to tire small wavering hands. Peaches lunged forward until only Mickey's agility saved her from falling. He tossed the doll on the bed, and caught the child, the lump in his throat so big his voice was strained as he cried: "Why you silly thing!"

With her safe he again proffered it. Peaches shut her eyes and buried her face on his breast.

"Oh don't let me see it! Take it away!"

"Why Lily! I thought you'd be crazy about it," marvelled Mickey.

"Honest I did! The prettiest lady sent it to you. Let me tell you!"

"Giving them up is worser 'an never having them. Take it away!" wailed Peaches.

"Well Lily!" said Mickey. "I never was stuck up about my looks, but I didn't s'pose I looked so like a granny that you'd think _that_ of me.

Don't I seem man enough to take care of a little flowersy-girl 'thout selling her doll? There's where I got your granny skinned a mile. I don't booze, and I never will. Mother hammered that into me. Now look what a pretty it is! You'll just love it! I wouldn't take it! I'd lay out anybody who would. Come on now! Negotiate it! Get your flippers on it!"

He was holding the child gently and stroking her tumbled hair. When he put her from him to see her face, Mickey was filled with envy because he had been forced to admit the gift was not from him. He shut his lips tight, but his face was grim as he studied Peaches' flushed cheeks and wet eyes, and noted the shaking eagerness for the doll she was afraid to look at. He reached over and put it into her arms, then piled the pillows so she could see better, talking the while to comfort her.