Out of the Ashes Part 20

"But," said Brencherly soothingly, "you don't want to get out now, you know. You've no reason to want to get out."

She nodded, as if considering his statement seriously.

"Of course, since I've got Victor out of the way, I don't much care. And I had awful trouble to steal enough money to get about with. Why, I had to pick ever so many pockets, and I do hate touching people; you never can tell what germs they may have." She shook out her rusty black skirt as if to detach any possible contagion.

"But, why," the incisive voice of the attorney inquired, "did you want to kill Victor Mahr?"

"Why?" she screamed, her body suddenly stiffening. "Suppose you were his wife, and he locked you up in places, and made people call you Mrs.

Welles, while he went swelling around everywhere, and making millions!

What'd you do? And besides, it wasn't only _that_, you see. _I_ knew, being his wife, that he was a devil--oh, yes, he was; you needn't look as if you didn't believe it. But I soon learned that when I said I was 'Mrs. Victor Mahr' in the places he put me into, they laughed at me, the way they do at my roommate, who says she's a sideboard and wants to hold a tea-set."

"Tell these gentlemen how cleverly you traced him," suggested Brencherly.

"Oh, I knew where he lived and what he was doing well enough." She bridled with conscious conceit; "I read the papers and I had it all written down. So when I got out and stole the money, I knew just where to go. But he's foxy, too. I knew I'd have to _make_ him see me. So I stole some of the doctor's letterhead paper, and I wrote on it, 'Important news from the Inst.i.tution'--that's what he likes to call his boarding house--an inst.i.tution." She laughed. "It worked!" she went on as she regained her breath. "I just sent that message, and they let me go right in. 'Well, what is it--what is it?' Victor said, just like that." Her tones of mimicry were ghastly. She paused a moment, then broke out:

"Now you won't believe it, but I hadn't the slightest idea what I was going to kill him with when I went in there--I really didn't. The doctor will tell you himself that I'm awfully forgetful. But there, spread out before him, he had a whole collection of weapons, just as if he should say, 'Mamie, which'll you have?' I couldn't believe my eyes; so I said first thing, 'Why, you were expecting me!' He heard my voice, and his eyes opened wide; and I thought: 'If I don't do it now, he'll raise the house.' So I grabbed the big pistol and hit him! I'm telling you gentlemen all this, because I don't want anyone else to get the credit.

There was a woman I met on a bench, and I just was sure she was going to take all the credit, but I told her that was _my_ business. I hate people who think they can do everything. There's a woman across my hall who says she can make stars--" She broke off abruptly as for the first time she became aware of Gard's presence in the room. "Why, there you are!" she exclaimed delightedly. "Now, that's good! You can tell these people what _you_ found."

"But Mr. Mahr was stabbed, Mrs. Welles," Gard interrupted. "You said you struck him with a pistol."

"Oh, I did _that_ afterward." She took up the thread of her narrative.

"I selected the place very carefully, and pushed the knife way in tight.

I hate the sight of blood, and I sort of thought that'd stop it, and it did. Then, dear me, I had a scare. There's a picture in that room as live as life, and I looked up, and saw it looking at me. So I started to run out, but somebody was coming, so in the little room off the big one I got behind a curtain. Then this gentleman went through the room where I was, and into the room where _he_ was. But he shut the door, and I couldn't see what he thought of it. After a while he came out and said 'good-night' to me, though how he knew I was there I can't guess. So I waited a very long time, till everything was quiet, and then I went back and sat with him. It did me good just to sit and look at him; and every little while I'd lift his coat to see if the little sword was still there. The room was awful messy, and I tidied it up a bit. Then when dawn about came, I got up and walked out. I had a sort of idea of getting back to the inst.i.tution without saying anything, because I was afraid they'd punish me."

"Why did you rob Mr. Mahr?" asked Mr. Field.

"Rob nothing!" she retorted.

"But his jewels, his watch," the attorney continued, his eyes riveted on her face with compelling earnestness. The woman gave an inarticulate growl. "But," interposed Brencherly, "I found his wallet in your package." He took from his pocket a worn and battered leather pocketbook and held it toward her.

"Oh," she answered indifferently, "I just took it for a souvenir. In fact, I came back for it--last thing."

Brencherly shrugged his shoulders expressively. Gard sat far back in his chair, his face in shadow.

"How long has it been, Mrs. Welles, since you--accomplished your purpose?" he asked slowly.

"You know as well as I do," she cried angrily.

"You were there. It was yesterday--no, the day before."

"It was just a week ago we found her," Brencherly said in a low voice.

"I had to look up everything and verify everything."

"You don't think I did it?" she burst out angrily. "Well, I'll prove it.

I tell you I did, and I thought it all out carefully, although the doctor says I can't think connectedly. I'll show him." She fumbled in the breast of her dress for a moment, and brought out her cherished handful of newspaper clippings, which she cast triumphantly upon the table. "There's all about him from the papers, and a picture of the house. Why, I'd 'a' been a fool not to find him, and I had to. Oh, yes, I suppose, as the doctor says, I'm queer; but I wasn't when he first began sending me away--no, indeed. I wasn't good enough for him, that was all; and I was far from home, and hadn't a friend, and he had money.

Oh, he was clever--but he's the devil. He used to file his horns off so people wouldn't see, but I know. So, I'll tell you everything, except how I got away. There's somebody else I may want to find." She glanced with infinite cunning at Brencherly, and began her finger signals as if practicing a dumb alphabet of which he alone knew the key.

"Where did you receive her from, Doctor?" Field asked.

"From Ogdensburg, sir. Before that they told me she was found wandering, and put under observation in Troy. All I knew was that somebody wanted her kept in a private inst.i.tution. She'd always been in one, I fancy."

There was a pause as Field seemed lost in thought. Then he turned to Gard.

"May I ask you to clear one point?" he asked "You gave evidence that he was alive when you entered the room. According to her story--"

"I lied," said Gard, his pale face suffused with color. "I had to--I was most urgently needed in Washington. I would have been detained, perhaps prevented altogether from leaving. Who knows--I might even have been accused. I plead guilty of suppressing the facts."

There was silence in the room. The attorney's eyes were turned upon the self-confessed perjurer. In them was a question. Gard met their gaze gravely, without flinching. Field nodded slowly.

"You're right; publicity can only harm," he said at last. "We will see what can be done. I'll take the proper steps. It can be done legally and verified by the other witnesses. The butler identifies her, you say.

It's a curious case of retribution. I can't help imagining Mahr's feelings when he recognized her voice. Is your patient at all dangerous otherwise?" He addressed himself to the nurse.

"No," she answered. "We've never seen it. Irritable, of course, but not vicious. I can't imagine her doing such a thing. But you never can tell, sir--not with this sort."

Field again addressed Gard, whose admission seemed to have exhausted him. "And the son--knows nothing?"

"Nothing," answered Gard. "He worships his father's memory. He is engaged, also, to--a very dear little friend of mine--the child of an old colleague. I want to shield them--both."

"I understand." He nodded his head slowly, lost in thought.

The woman, childishly interested in the grotesque inkwells on the table, stepped forward and raised one curiously. Her bony hands, of almost transparent thinness, seemed hardly able to sustain the weight of the cast bronze. It was hard to believe such a birdlike claw capable of delivering a stunning blow, or forcibly wielding the deadly knife. She babbled for a moment in a gentle, not unpleasant voice, while they watched her, fascinated.

"She's that way most of the time," said the nurse softly. "Just like a ten-year-old girl--plays with dolls, sir, all day long."

Suddenly her expression changed. Over her smiling wrinkles crept the whiteness of death. Her eyes seemed to start from her head, her lips drew back, while her fingers tightened convulsively on the metal inkstand. The nurse, with an exclamation, stepped forward and caught her.

There was a gleam of such maniacal fury in the woman's face that Mr.

Field shuddered. "Hardly a safe child to trust even with a doll," he said. "I fancy the recital has excited her. Hadn't you better take her away and keep her quiet? And don't let anyone unauthorized by Mr. Gard or myself have access to her. It will not be wise to allow her delusion that she was the wife of Victor Mahr to become known--you understand?"

Mr. Gard rose stiffly. "I will a.s.sume the expense of her care in future.

Let her have every comfort your inst.i.tution affords, Dr. Malky. I will see you to-morrow."

"Thank you, sir." The physician bowed. "Good night. Come, Mrs. Welles."

Obediently the withered little woman turned and suffered herself to be led away.

As the door closed, Field came forward and grasped Gard's hand warmly.

"It is necessary for the general good," he said, his kindly face grown grave, "that this matter be kept as quiet as possible. Believe me, I understand, old friend; and, as always, I admire you."

Gard's weary face relaxed its strain. "Thanks," he said hoa.r.s.ely. "We can safely trust the press to Brencherly. He," and he smiled wanly, "deserves great credit for his work. I'm thinking, Field, I need that young man in my business."

Field nodded. "I was thinking I needed him in mine; but yours is the prior claim. And now I'm off. Mr. Brencherly, can I set you down anywhere?"

Confusedly the young man accepted the offer, hesitated and blushed as he held out his hand. "May I?"

Gard read the good-will in his face, the congratulation in the tone, and grasped the extended hand with a warm feeling of friendly regard.

"Good-night--and, thank you both," he said.