Miss Maitland Private Secretary Part 24

Good-night!"

He turned on his heel, ran down the steps and over the gra.s.s, clearing the terrace wall with a leap. I looked after him, fading into the early night, disturbed and with a sort of cold heaviness in my heart. He was no fool-suppose what he thought was true? Suppose that dear child whom I'd grown to love-but, rubbish! I wouldn't think of it. It was easy to account for the way he felt. Every little movement has a meaning of its own-and the meaning in all his little movements was love. He had it bad, poor chap, out on him like the measles, and while you have to be gentle with the sick you don't pay much attention to what they say.

That was a dreary evening. There being no one but me around they served my dinner in the dining room, and it added to the strain. Some of the food I didn't know whether to eat with a fork or a spoon, so I had to pa.s.s up a lot which was hard seeing I was hungry. But when you're born in an east side tenement you feel touchy that way-I wasn't going to be criticized by two corn-fed menials. I'm glad I'm not rich; it's grand all right, but it isn't comfortable.

The next day-Sat.u.r.day-it rained and I sat round in the hall and my room where I could hear the 'phone and keep an eye on Miss Maitland. All she did was to go for a walk, and in the afternoon stay in her study. We saw each other at meals, our conversation specially edited for Dixon and Isaac.

Sunday was fine weather again and Ferguson came round at twelve. Miss Maitland had gone for another walk and he and I had the hall to ourselves. He'd been in town the day before, seen George Whitney and told him what he thought. When I asked how Mr. George took it, he gave a sarcastic smile and said, "He listened very politely but didn't seem much impressed." He also told me they'd hoped to find the child Friday night in the room at 76 Gayle Street and had been disappointed.

"Of course she wasn't there," and he ended with "it was only wasting valuable time, but there's a proverb about none being so blind as those who won't see."

After that he dropped the subject-I think he wanted to get away from it-and pow-wowing together we worked around to the robbery, which had been side-tracked by the bigger matter. He said it had been in his mind to tell me a curious circ.u.mstance that he'd come on the night the jewels were taken and that he thought might be helpful to me. It was about a cigar band that Miss Maitland had found in the woods that evening when he and she had walked home together. Before he was half through I was listening attentive as a cat at a mouse hole, for it was a queer story and had possibilities. After I put some questions and had it all clear, we mulled it over-the way I love to do.

"A man dropped it," I said slowly, my thoughts chasing ahead of my words, "who went through the woods after the storm."

"Exactly-between eight-thirty and ten-thirty. And do you grasp the fact that those were the hours the house was vacated-the logical time to rob it?"

"Yes, I've thought of that often-wondered why they waited."

"And do you grasp another fact-that Hannah a little before nine heard the dogs barking and then quieting down as if they scented some one they knew?"

I nodded; that too I'd made a mental note of.

"It couldn't have been Price for he was on the way to town then."

"Oh, Price-" he gave an impatient jerk of his head-"of course it wasn't Price, but it _was_ some one the dogs knew. That would have been just about the time a man, watching the house and seeing the ground floor dark, would have come across the lawn to make his entrance."

I pondered for a spell then said:

"Did you ever tell this to Mrs. Janney or any of them?"

"No, I didn't think of it myself until a little while ago-the night I dined here and saw it was one of Mr. Janney's cigars. And then what was the use-the light by the safe had fixed the time."

"Yes-if it wasn't for that light you'd have got a real lead. Too bad, for it's a bully starting point, and it would have let out those other two."

He stiffened up, suddenly haughty looking.

"There's no necessity of letting out people who never were in. But if that light was eliminated you could work on the theory that a professional thief-an expert safe opener-had done the business."

"How would the dogs know _him_?" I asked.

He leaned toward me, looking with a quiet sort of meaning into my face:

"Suppose you put that mind of yours, that Wilbur Whitney values so highly and I'm beginning to see indications of, on that question."

"What's the sense of wasting it? My mind's my capital and I don't draw on it unless there's a need. You get rid of that light at one-thirty and I'll expend some of it."

I laughed, but he didn't, looking on the ground frowning and thoughtful.

Then a step on the balcony made us both turn. It was Miss Maitland, back from her walk, looking much better, a smile at the sight of him, and a little color in her face. She joined us and, Dixon announcing lunch, Ferguson invited himself to stay. It was the first human meal I'd eaten since the doors of the dining room had opened to me.

After lunch I left them on the balcony and went upstairs to my room. I tried to read but the air, blowing in warm and sweet and the scent of the garden coming up, made the book seem dull, and I went to the window and leaned out.

A while pa.s.sed that way and then I saw Ferguson going home, a long figure in white flannels striding across the lawn to the wood path. Then out from the kitchen come the servants, all togged up, six girls and Isaac, and away they go on their bikes to the beach. From what I've seen of the homes of the rich I'd rather be in the kitchen than the parlor-the help have it all over the quality for plain enjoyment. They went off bawling gayly, and presently Dixon appears, looking like a parson on his day off, all brisk and cheerful. Last of all comes Hannah, her hair as slick as a seal's, a d.i.n.ky little hat set on top of it, and a parasol held over it all. She waddled off, large and slow, in another direction, toward the woods-for a cup of tea and a neighborly gossip in Ferguson's kitchen, I guess. How I wished I was along with them!

There I was left, lolling back and forth on the sill, kicking with my toes on the floor, and wondering what my poor, deserted boy was doing in town. Then sudden, piercing the stillness with a sort of tingling thrill, comes the ring of the hall telephone.

I gave a soft jump, s.n.a.t.c.hed up my pad and pencil, and was at the table and had the receiver off before she'd got to the closet downstairs. It was so quiet, not a sound in the house, that I could hear every catch in her breath and every tone in her voice. And what I heard was worth listening to. A man spoke first:

"h.e.l.lo, who's this?"

"Esther Maitland. Is it-is it?"

"Yes-C. P. I've waited until now as I knew there wouldn't be anybody around. It's all right."

"Truly. You're not saying it to keep me quiet?"

"Not a bit. There's no need for any worry. Everything's gone without a hitch."

"And you think it's safe-to-to-take the next step?"

"Perfectly. We're going to get her out of town on Tuesday night."

"Oh!" I could hear the relief in her voice. "You don't know what this means to me?"

He gave a little, dry laugh:

"Me too-I'll admit it's been something of a strain. That's all I wanted to say. Good-by."

I scratched it on the pad, and tiptoed back to my room, short of breath a bit myself. What would Ferguson say to this? I stood by the window, thinking how to send it in, and things went right for out she came from the balcony and walked across to a place on the lawn where there were some chairs under a group of maples. She sat down and began to read, and I stole back to the hall and took a call for the Whitney house. Being Sunday they might be out, but that went right too, for I got the Chief himself. I told him and asked for instructions and they came straight and quick:

"Bring her into town to-morrow morning. There's a train at nine-thirty you can take. Get a taxi at the depot and come right up to the office.

You'll have to tell her in what capacity you're serving the family.

That'll be easy-you were engaged for the robbery. Don't let her think you have any interest in the kidnaping, and on no account let her guess we suspect her. Say you've had a message from me, that some new facts have come in and I want to ask her a few questions-see if the information tallies with what she saw. Keep her quiet and calm. Got that straight? All right-so long."

CHAPTER XX-MOLLY'S STORY

The next morning, in the hall, right after breakfast I told her what I had to tell-I mean who I was. It gave her a start-held her listening with her eyes hard on mine-then when I explained it was for inside work on the robbery she eased up, got cool and nodded her head at me, politely agreeing. She understood perfectly and would go wherever she was wanted; she was glad to do anything that would be of a.s.sistance; no one was more anxious than she to help the family in their distress, and so forth and so on.

On the way in she was quiet, but I don't think as peaceful as she acted.

She asked me some questions about my work. I answered brisk and bright and she said it must be a very interesting profession. I've seen nervy people in my time but no woman that beat her for cool sand, and the way I'm built I can't help but respect courage no matter what the person's like who has it. Before we reached town I was full of admiration for that girl who, as far as I could judge, was a crook from the ground up.

When we reached the office I was called into an inner room where the Chief and Mr. George were waiting. I gave them my paper with the 'phone message on it, and answered the few questions they had to ask. I learned then that they'd got hold of more evidence against her. O'Malley had snooped round the Gayle Street locality and heard that on Friday morning about half-past eleven a taxi, containing a child resembling Bebita, had been seen opposite a book bindery on the corner of the block. I didn't hear any particulars but I saw by the Chief's manner, quiet and sort of absorbed, and by Mr. George, like a blue-ribbon pup straining at the leash, that they had Esther Maitland dead to rights and the end was in sight.

After that I was sent back into the hall where I'd left her and told to bring her into the old man's private office. We went up the pa.s.sage, a murmur of voices growing louder as we advanced. She was ahead and, as the door opened, she stopped for a moment on the threshold, quick, like a horse that wants to shy. Over her shoulder I could see in, and I don't wonder she pulled up-any one would. There, beside the Chief and Mr.

George, were the two old Janneys and Mrs. Price, sitting stiff as statues, each of them with their eyes on her, gimlet-sharp and gimlet-hard. They said some sort of "How d'ye do" business and made bows like Chinese mandarins, but their faces would have made a chorus girl get thoughtful. I guessed then they knew about the tapped message and had come to see Miss Maitland get the third degree. She scented the trouble ahead too-I don't see how she could have helped it; there was thunder in the air. But she said good-morning to them, cordial and easy, and walked over to the chair Mr. George pushed forward for her.