The Vagrant Duke Part 18

"I'm glad you think so, because that's where it comes from."

At this point Peter remembered his mission, which Beth's appearance had driven from his mind.

"I'll play for you sometime," he said.

He went past her and out to the servants' dining-room. As he entered with Beth at his heels, Mrs. Bergen, the housekeeper, turned in from the open door to the kitchen garden, clinging to the jamb, her lips mumbling, as though she were continuing a conversation. But her round face, usually the color and texture of a well ripened peach, was the color of putty, and seemed suddenly to have grown old and haggard. Her eyes through her metal-rimmed spectacles seemed twice their size and stared at Peter as though they saw through him and beyond. She faltered at the door-jamb and then with an effort reached a chair, into which she sank gasping.

Beth was kneeling at her side in a moment, looking up anxiously into her startled eyes.

"Why, what is it, Aunt Tillie?" she whispered quickly. "What it is? Tell me."

The coincidence was too startling. Could the same Thing that had frightened McGuire have frightened the housekeeper too? Peter rushed past her and out of the open door. It was dark outside and for a moment he could see nothing. Then objects one by one a.s.serted themselves, the orderly rows of vegetable plants in the garden, the wood-box by the door, the shrubbery at the end of the portico, the blue spruce tree opposite, the loom of the dark and noncommittal garage. He knew that one of his men was in the trees opposite the side porch and another around the corner of the kitchen, in the hedge, but he did not want to raise a hue and cry unless it was necessary. What was this Thing that created terror at sight? He peered this way and that, aware of an intense excitement, in one hand his revolver and in the other his police whistle. But he saw no object move, and the silence was absolute. In a moment--disappointed--he hurried back to the servants' dining-room.

Mrs. Bergen sat dazed in her chair, while Beth, who had brought her a gla.s.s of water, was making her drink of it.

"Tell me, what is it?" Beth was insisting.

"Nothing--nothing," murmured the woman.

"But there is----"

"No, dearie----"

"Are you sick?"

"I don't feel right. Maybe--the heat----"

"But your eyes look queer----"

"Do they----?" The housekeeper tried to smile.

"Yes. Like they had seen----"

A little startled as she remembered the mystery of the house, Beth cast her glance into the darkness outside the open door.

"You _are_--frightened!" she said.

"No, no----"

"What was it you saw, Mrs. Bergen," asked Peter gently.

He was just at her side and at the sound of his voice she half arose, but recognizing Peter she sank back in her chair.

Peter repeated his question, but she shook her head.

"Won't you tell us? What was it you saw? A man----?"

Her eyes sought Beth's and a look of tenderness came into them, banishing the vision. But she lied when she answered Peter's question.

"I saw nothin', Mr. Nichols--I think I'll go up----"

She took another swallow of the water and rose. And with her strength came a greater obduracy.

"I saw nothin'----" she repeated again, as she saw that he was still looking at her. "Nothin' at all."

Peter and Beth exchanged glances and Beth, putting her hand under the housekeeper's arm, helped the woman to the back stairs.

Peter stood for a moment in the middle of the kitchen floor, his gaze on the door through which the woman had vanished. Aunt Tillie too! She had seen some one, some Thing--the same some one or Thing that McGuire had seen. But granting that their eyes had not deceived them, granting that each had seen Something, what, unless it were supernatural, could have frightened McGuire and Aunt Tillie too? Even if the old woman had been timid about staying in the house, she had made it clear to Peter that she was entirely unaware of the kind of danger that threatened her employer. Peter had believed her then. He saw no reason to disbelieve her now. She had known as little as Peter about the cause for McGuire's alarm. And here he had found her staring with the same unseeing eyes into the darkness, with the same symptoms of nervous shock as McGuire had shown. What enemy of McGuire's could frighten Aunt Tillie into prostration and seal her lips to speech? Why wouldn't she have dared to tell Peter what she had seen? What was this secret and how could she share it with McGuire when twenty-four hours ago she had been in complete ignorance of the mystery? Why wouldn't she talk? Was the vision too intimate? Or too horrible?

Peter was imaginative, for he had been steeped from boyhood in the superst.i.tions of his people. But the war had taught him that devils had legs and carried weapons. He had seen more horrible sights than most men of his years, in daylight, at dawn, or silvered with moonlight. He thought he had exhausted the possibilities for terror. But he found himself grudgingly admitting that he was at the least a little nervous--at the most, on the verge of alarm. But he put his whistle in his mouth, drew his revolver again and went forth.

First he sought out the man in the spruce tree. It was Andy. He had seen no one but the people on the porch and in the windows. It was very dark but he took an oath that no one had approached the house from his side.

"You saw no one talking with Mrs. Bergen by the kitchen door?"

"No. I can't see th' kitchen door from here."

Peter verified. A syringa bush was just in line.

"Then you haven't moved?" asked Peter.

"No. I was afraid they'd see me."

"They've seen something----"

"You mean----?"

"I don't know. But look sharp. If anything comes out this way, take a shot at it."

"You think there's something----"

"Yes--but don't move. And keep your eyes open!"

Peter went off to the man in the hedge behind the kitchen--Jesse Brown.

"See anything?" asked Peter.

"Nope. n.o.body but the chauffeur."

"The chauffeur?"

"He went up to th' house a while back."

"Oh--how long ago?"

"Twenty minutes."

"I see." And then, "You didn't see any one come away from the kitchen door?"