The Silent House Part 18

RHODA AND THE CLOAK

The one servant of Mrs. Bensusan was a girl of seventeen, who had a local fame in the neighbourhood on account of her sharp tongue and many precocious qualities. No one knew who her parents were, or where the fat landlady had picked her up; but she had been in the Jersey Street house some ten years, and had been educated and--in a manner--adopted by its mistress, although Mrs. Bensusan always gave her cronies to understand that Rhoda was simply and solely the domestic of the establishment.

Nevertheless, for one of her humble position, she had a wonderful power over her stout employer, the power of a strong mind over a weak one, and in spite of her youth it was well known that Rhoda managed the domestic economy of the house. Mrs. Bensusan was the sovereign, Rhoda the prime minister.

This position she had earned by dint of her own sharpness in dealing with the world. And the local tradesmen were afraid of Rhoda. "Mrs.

Bensusan's devil," they called her, and never dared to give short weight, or charge extra prices, or pa.s.s off damaged goods as new, when Rhoda was the purchaser. On the contrary, No. 9 Jersey Street was supplied with everything of the best, promptly and civilly, at ordinary market rates; for neither butcher, nor baker, nor candlestick maker, was daring enough to risk Rhoda's tongue raging like a prairie fire over their shortcomings. Several landladies, knowing Rhoda's value, had tried to entice her from Mrs. Bensusan by offers of higher wages and better quarters, but the girl refused to leave her stout mistress, and so continued quite a fixture of the lodgings. Even in the city, Rhoda had been spoken of by clerks who had lived in Jersey Street, and so had more than a local reputation for originality.

This celebrated handmaid was as lean as her mistress was stout. Her hair was magnificent in quality and quant.i.ty, but, alas! was of the unpopular tint called red; not auburn, or copper hued, or the famous t.i.tian color, but a blazing, fiery red, which made it look like a comic wig. Her face was pale and freckled, her eyes black--in strange contrast to her hair, and her mouth large, but garnished with an excellent set of white teeth.

Rhoda was not neat in her attire, perhaps not having arrived at the age of coquetry, for she wore a dingy grey dress much too short for her, a pair of carpet slippers which had been left by a departed lodger, and usually went about with her sleeves tucked up, and a resolute look on her sharp face. Such was the appearance of Mrs. Bensusan's devil, who entered to forbid her mistress confiding in Lucian.

"Oh, Rhoda!" groaned Mrs. Bensusan. "You bad gal! I believe as you've 'ad your ear to the keyhole."

"I 'ave!" retorted Rhoda defiantly. "It's been there for five minutes, and good it is for you, mum, as I ain't above listening. What do you mean, sir," she cried, turning on Lucian like a fierce sparrow, "by coming 'ere to frighten two lone females, and her as innocent as a spring chicken?"

"Oh!" said Lucian, looking at her composedly, "so you are the celebrated Rhoda? I've heard of you."

"Not much good, then, sir, if Miss Greeb was talking," rejoined the red-haired girl, with a sniff. "Oh, I know her."

"Rhoda! Rhoda!" bleated her mistress, "do 'old your tongue! I tell you this gentleman's a police."

"He ain't!" said the undaunted Rhoda. "He's in the law. Oh, I knows him!'

"Ain't the law the police, you foolish gal?"

"Of course it--" began Rhoda, when Lucian, who thought that she had displayed quite sufficient eccentricity, cut her short with a quick gesture.

"See here, my girl," he said sharply, "you must not behave in this fashion. I have reason to believe that the a.s.sa.s.sin of Mr. Vrain entered the house through the premises of your mistress."

"Lawks, what a 'orrible idear!" shrieked Mrs. Bensusan. "Good 'eavens, Rhoda, did you see the murdering villain?"

"Me? No! I never sawr nothing, mum," replied Rhoda doggedly.

Lucian, watching the girl's face, and the uneasy expression in her eyes, felt convinced she was not telling the truth. It was no use forcing her to speak, as he saw very plainly that Rhoda was one of those obstinate people whom severity only hardened. Much more could be done with her by kindness, and Denzil adopted this--to him--more congenial course.

"If Rhoda is bound by any promise, Mrs. Bensusan, I do not wish her to speak," he said indifferently, "but in the interests of justice I am sure you will not refuse to answer my questions."

"Lord, sir! I know nothing!" whimpered the terrified landlady.

"Will you answer a few questions?" asked Denzil persuasively.

Mrs. Bensusan glanced in a scared manner at Rhoda, who, meanwhile, had been standing in a sullen and hesitating att.i.tude. When she thought herself un.o.bserved, she stole swift glances at the visitor, trying evidently to read his character by observation of his face and manner.

It would seem that her scrutiny was favourable, for before Mrs. Bensusan could answer Lucian's question she asked him one herself.

"What do you want to know, sir?"

"I want to know all about Mr. Wrent."

"Why?"

"Because I fancy he has something to do with this crime."

"Lord!" groaned Mrs. Bensusan. "'Ave I waited on a murderer?"

"I don't say he is a murderer, Mrs. Bensusan, but he knows something likely to put us on the track of the criminal."

"What makes ye take up the case?" demanded Rhoda sharply.

"Because I know that Mr. Wrent came to board in this house shortly after Mr. Vrain occupied No. 13," replied Denzil.

"Who says he did?"

"Miss Greeb, my landlady, and she also told me that he left here two days after the murder."

"That's as true as true!" cried Mrs. Bensusan, "ain't it, Rhoda? We lost him 'cause he said he couldn't abide living near a house where a crime had been committed."

"Well, then," continued Lucian, seeing that Rhoda, without speaking, continued to watch him, "the coincidence of Mr. Wrent's stay with that of Mr. Vrain's strikes me as peculiar."

"You are a sharp one, you are!" said Rhoda, with an approving nod. "Look here, Mr. Denzil, would you break a promise?"

"That depends upon what the promise was."

"It was one I made to hold my tongue."

"About what?"

"Several things," said the girl shortly.

"Have they to do with this crime?" asked Lucian eagerly.

"I don't know. I can't say," said Rhoda; then suddenly her face grew black. "I tell you what, sir, I hate Mr. Wrent!" she declared.

"Oh, Rhoda!" cried Mrs. Bensusan. "After the lovely cloak he gave you!"

The red-haired girl looked contemptuously at her mistress; then, without a word, darted out of the room. Before Lucian could conjecture the reason of her strange conduct, or Mrs. Bensusan could get her breath again--a very difficult operation for her--Rhoda was back with a blue cloth cloak, lined with rabbit skins, hanging over her arm. This she threw down at the feet of Lucian, and stamped on it savagely with the carpet slippers.

"There's his present!" she cried angrily, "but I wish I could dance on him the same way! I wish--I wish I could hang him!"

"Can you?" demanded Lucian swiftly, taking her in the moment of wrath, when she seemed disposed to speak.

"No!" said Rhoda shortly. "I can't!"

"Do you think he killed Mr. Vrain?"

"No, I don't!"