No. 13 Washington Square Part 46

Mary cast a questioning glance at Jack, who, bewildered, nodded his consent. She unlocked the door.

CHAPTER XXIII

MR. PYECROFT TAKES CHARGE

The next moment a dozen reporters crowded into the room, the redoubtable Mr. Mayfair at their head; and behind them could be seen the pale, curious faces of William, Miss Gardner, and M. Dubois. Mrs.

De Peyster, Olivetta, and Matilda sat in limp despair. Judge Harvey, Jack, and Mary gazed in breathless suspense and wonderment at Mr.

Pyecroft. As for Mr. Pyecroft, he stood before Mrs. De Peyster, obscuring her, looking like one who has suffered a severe shock, yet withal grave and composed.

"What's up?" demanded the keen-faced Mayfair.

"Before I answer that," said Mr. Pyecroft, "permit me to preface what I have to say by touching upon two necessary personal details. First, I believe, at least, you, Mr. Mayfair, have known me as Mr. Simpson, brother of Mrs. De Peyster's housekeeper. I am not her brother. This harmless deception was undertaken, for reasons not necessary to give, at the request of Judge Harvey; he wished me to remain in the house to arrange, and make abstracts of, certain private papers. The second detail is, that I am speaking at the request of Judge Harvey, as his a.s.sociate and as the representative of the De Peyster family."

Judge Harvey felt his collar; Jack stared. But fortunately the room was dim, and the reporters' eyes were all on the grave, candid face of Mr. Pyecroft.

"Yes--yes," said the impatient Mayfair. "But out with the story!

What's doing?"

"Something that I think will surprise you," said Mr. Pyecroft.

"Something that has completely astounded all of us--particularly this lady who is Mrs. De Peyster's housekeeper, and Miss Harmon, here, who has just returned from a quiet summer in Maine to attend her cousin's funeral. The fact is, gentlemen, to come right to the point, there is to be no funeral."

"No funeral!" cried Mr. Mayfair.

"No funeral!" ran through the crowd.

"No funeral," repeated Mr. Pyecroft. "The reason, gentlemen, is that a great mistake has been made. Mrs. De Peyster is not dead."

"Not dead!" exclaimed the reporters.

"If you desire proof, here it is." Mr. Pyecroft, stepping aside, revealed the figure of Mrs. De Peyster. He put his right hand upon her shoulder, gripping it tightly and holding her in her chair, and with his left he lifted the thick veil above her face. "I believe that most of you know Mrs. De Peyster, at least from her pictures."

"Mrs. De Peyster!" cried the staggered crowd. "Mrs. De Peyster herself!"

"Mrs. De Peyster herself," repeated Mr. Pyecroft in his grave voice.

"You are surprised, but not more so than the rest of us."

"But that other Mrs. De Peyster--the one the funeral is for?" asked Mr. Mayfair. "Who is she?"

"That, gentlemen, is as great a mystery to us as to any of you," said Mr. Pyecroft.

"But how the--but how did it all happen?" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mr. Mayfair.

"That is what I am going to tell you," Mr. Pyecroft answered.

Mrs. De Peyster struggled up.

"Don't--don't!" she besought him wildly.

Mr. Pyecroft pressed her back into her chair, and held her there with an arm that was like a brace of steel.

"You see, gentlemen," he remarked sympathetically, "how this business has upset her."

"Yes! But the explanation?"

"Immediately--word for word, as Mrs. De Peyster has just now told us,"

said he.

"Oh!" moaned Mrs. De Peyster.

Olivetta and Matilda gazed at Mr. Pyecroft with ghastly, loose-lipped faces; Judge Harvey and Jack and Mary stared at him with an amazed suspense which they could hardly mask; and Miss Gardner, with whom he had not yet made his peace, breathlessly awaited the next move of this incomprehensible husband of hers. Mr. Pyecroft kept his eyes, for the most part, upon the shrewd, fraud-penetrating features of the unfoilable Mr. Mayfair--his own countenance the most truthful that son of Adam ever wore.

"What Mrs. De Peyster has said is really very simple. As you know, she left Paris two or three weeks ago on a long motor trip. During her brief stay in Paris, one of her trunks was either lost or stolen, she is not certain which. As she pays no personal attention to her baggage, she was not aware of her loss for several days. So much is fact. Now we come to mere conjecture. A plausible conjecture seems to be that the gowns in the trunk were sold to a second-hand dealer, and these gowns, being attractive, the dealer must have immediately resold to various purchasers, and one of these purchasers must have--"

"Yes, yes! Plain as day!" exclaimed Mr. Mayfair.

"The face was unrecognizable," continued Mr. Pyecroft, "but since the gown had sewn into it Mrs. De Peyster's name, of course--"

"Of course! The most natural mistake in the world!" cried Mr. Mayfair excitedly. "Go on! Go on!"

Mrs. De Peyster had slowly turned a dazed countenance upward and was gazing at the sober, plausible face of her young man of the sea.

"Mrs. De Peyster did not learn of what had happened till the day the supposed Mrs. De Peyster was started homeward. The most sensible thing for her to have done would have been to declare the mistake, and saved her family and friends a great deal of grief. But the shock completely unbalanced her. I will not attempt to describe her psychological processes or explain her actions. You may call her course illogical, hysterical, what you like; I do not seek to defend it; I am only trying to give you the facts. She was so completely unnerved--But a mere look at Mrs. De Peyster will show you how the shock unnerved her."

The group gazed at Mrs. De Peyster's face. A murmur of sympathy and understanding ran among them.

"In her hysterical condition," continued Mr. Pyecroft, "she had but one thought, and that was to get home as quickly as she could. She crossed to England, sailed on the Mauretania, kept to her stateroom, and arrived here at the house heavily veiled about an hour ago. I may add the details that she sailed under the name of Miss Harriman and that her trunks are now at the Cunard pier. There you have the entire story, gentlemen."

He looked down at Mrs. De Peyster. "I believe I have stated the matter just as you outlined it to us?"

"Ye--yes," breathed Mrs. De Peyster.

"There is no detail you would like to add?"

"N--none," breathed Mrs. De Peyster.

"Then, gentlemen," said Mr. Pyecroft, turning to the reporters, "since you have all the facts, and since Mrs. De Peyster is in a state bordering on collapse, we would take it as a favor if--"

"No need to dismiss us," put in Mr. Mayfair. "We're in a bigger hurry to leave than you are to have us go. G.o.d, boys," he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed to his fellows, "what a peach of a story!"

In a twinkling Mr. Mayfair and his fellows of the press had vanished, each in the direction of a telephone over which he could hurry this super-sensation into his office.

Within the room, all were staring at Mr. Pyecroft, as though in each a whirling chaos were striving to shape itself into speech. But before they could become articulate, that sober young gentleman had stepped from out of their midst and, his back to them, was discreetly engrossing himself in the examination of the first object that came to his hands: which chanced to be something lying on top of the exquisite safe--a slender platinum chain with a pendant pearl.

With him gone, all eyes fixed themselves upon Mrs. De Peyster, and there was a profound and motionless silence in the room, save at first for some very sincere and vigorous snuffling into the handkerchiefs of Olivetta and Matilda. As for Mrs. De Peyster, she sat below the awesome, imperturbable Mrs. De Peyster of the portrait, and oh, what a change was there in the one beneath!--huddled, shaking, not a d.u.c.h.ess-like line to her person, her face dropped forward in her hands.