Loe raamatut: «Violet Forster's Lover», lehekülg 10

CHAPTER XIX
The Two Women

Curiously quiet the house seemed to be as, in the cold, grey light, Violet Forster made the best of her way along the passage. At the head of the great staircase she paused; now it was possible to see; she wondered which was the stair on which, in the darkness, she had caught her heel in her draperies and stumbled. Her ankle was better, yet, in spite of the caution with which she descended, it gave her a twinge at every tread. How comfortless, how even ghostly the great hall seemed, as the first glimmer of the day came shimmeringly through the painted windows!

At the foot of the stairs she stopped-to listen. A curious quality which was in the air seemed to affect her nerves, which were already sufficiently highly strung; she was affected by the feeling which she had had in the darkness that there was someone in the hall already. She went out into it to look about her; there was no one to be seen, certainly nothing to be heard; she told herself that it was utter nonsense to suppose that anybody was watching her. It was not yet broad day, but there was light enough to render it difficult for anyone to keep from being seen, unless someone was cowering down behind one of the tall chairs, or hiding behind a hanging. She had a mind to search behind each piece of furniture, behind each curtain; she might have done it, too, had it not been that her foot rendered movement very far from easy. Ordinarily she would have peered into every nook and cranny in a dozen seconds; it might take her minutes as things were.

Realising that her doubts meant waste of time, she moved towards the chest under its velvet cover. She lifted the cover, had it nearly off, was about to raise the lid when-was that a sound? With one hand upon the velvet, the other on the chest, she stood and listened; this time her fancy was not playing her tricks, it was a sound. Someone was coming down the stairs, quickly, yet quietly-who could it be? On the instant she let the cover fall back into its place; with a rapidity of which a moment before she had not thought she could have been capable, she slipped behind a long curtain which hung against the wall, suspended to a rod, which could be moved at will so as to form a sort of cosy corner; but quick though her movements had been, they had not been at all too fast. No sooner was she behind the curtain than she became conscious that someone had come down into the hall, and had done as she had done-stopped to take a good look round. Then the footsteps began again; they seemed to be moving directly towards where she was; they were-she was sure they were each instant coming closer. She held her breath; what did it mean? Could she have been observed? Even if she had been, it seemed impossible that her retreat behind the curtain could have been noticed. And yet-the footsteps were making straight for where she was. Her impulse was to come out before she was discovered; she was about to do it, when the footsteps again were still.

A thought all at once occurred to her which diverted her mind into very different channels; was it possible that the new-comer's errand was the same as hers had been, with the old chest as an objective? That would mean that someone had been in the hall when Major Reith had switched on the single light; that her suspicions had been well founded, that there had been some interested watcher who had seen what she had put in the chest.

In that case the person who was within a foot or two of her, on the other side of the curtain, was probably the interested watcher. Whoever it was must be standing very close to the chest; was possibly, at that very moment, raising the velvet cover; would in a second or two have lifted the lid, and taken out the bag. What was she to do? It was a very knotty problem which so suddenly confronted Miss Forster in her hiding-place.

One thing seemed clear-that it was in the highest degree essential that she should know who it was with whom she had to deal. As matters stood the position was too one-sided. If her proceedings with the bag had been witnessed, then she had been recognised; but while her identity was known to someone, she had not the dimmest notion who that someone was. Since, in a sense, she was at someone's mercy, it was surely of the first importance that she should know whose. It might be-in an instant half a dozen different names flashed through her mind; any one of half a dozen persons might hold her-should it be written reputation? – in the hollow of a hand. The thought was unbearable. She must know with whom she had to deal; she would.

This presentation of the problem to her mind occupied a scarcely appreciable space of time; thoughts move quickly. To her it seemed longer than it was, for while she considered the position, what was being done on the other side of the curtain?

She heard something; when she had begun to raise the lid, she had been conscious that it creaked, though ever so slightly; that was a creaking she heard, which meant-

She did not stop to tell herself what it meant; there was an end of thinking; she decided before she knew it. Brushing the curtain aside, she stepped from behind it.

Whom she had expected to see she could not have said; she had told herself that it might be any one of half a dozen; yet when she saw who was there she knew it was the one she had expected.

A woman was bending over the chest; she had the velvet cover raised, and the lid an inch or two; she had come on the scene at what had been delicate moment for Violet Forster, and that young lady had returned the compliment in kind. She retained her presence of mind in a very creditable manner. One felt as one looked at her that she might be used to being found in delicate positions. She said nothing, but she never moved-she kept just still, and she looked Miss Forster in the face with eyes which betrayed no hint of nervousness. Even the scornful something which was in Miss Forster's tone when she did speak, did not seem to cause her the least discomfort.

"I thought it was you."

"Did you really?"

The thing was said so demurely that it was hard to tell from the tone alone if the intention was to be impertinent.

"What are you doing there?"

"I was just going to see what it was that I saw you put in this chest last night."

"So you did see? I thought that also-I begin to understand."

There was something in the girl's tone which the other seemed to resent.

"I confess I don't; but I hope to presently. Pray, miss, what do you begin to understand?"

"You were in league with him last night; you were-his confederate."

"His confederate, Miss Forster! What do you mean? With whom was I in league?"

"Oh, you do it very well; I've no doubt that this is the sort of thing in which practice has made you perfect. Now I understand how you came to be in possession of my locket."

The woman seemed to have a trick of repeating the girl's words.

"How I came to be in possession of your locket? I don't understand, Miss Forster, what you are talking about; will you please to make yourself plainer? I never did like insinuations."

"Was he concealed in the house last night, or did you let him in? But you must have seen him earlier in the day, or you could hardly have had the locket when you did."

It was a second or two before the other answered; when she did, it was in a tone which hinted resentment at Miss Forster's manner.

"I don't understand you, Miss Forster, but I should like you to understand me clearly. I was awakened early this morning by hearing someone running along the passage outside my room. Thinking someone might be ill, I got up to see if I could be of any use; I just caught sight of the skirt of a woman, who seemed to be running for all she was worth. And I heard a queer noise coming from downstairs; I waited, thinking it would stop, but as it continued, and kept getting queerer, I thought I would go down and see what was the matter. I came down in the hall here, and it was pitch dark; there wasn't a sound, and I was more than half afraid, and told myself I was a fool for coming. Then I heard someone coming down the staircase as if he didn't want to be heard. I said to myself that what was going on was probably no business of mine, and I tried to get away; but before I had a chance, someone came down into the hall, passing me so close that her skirts touched me as she passed."

Miss Forster interposed.

"I had a feeling all the while that there was someone there, but my ankle was so painful that all I could think of was finding something to lean upon."

"Of course I didn't know who it was-"

"I suppose not."

"How could I? The feel of the skirts told me it was a woman, and I fancied from the way she moved, that she must have hurt herself; but I couldn't see, and though I don't mind owning that I wondered what was up, I didn't want to be caught in what looked like prying, though no idea of doing anything of the kind had entered my head, and my one wish was to get quietly away. Then something did happen which took my breath away."

"What was that? I should imagine you are not the kind of person whose breath is easily taken away."

"I heard someone, who, I had no doubt, was a man from the noise he made, come rushing along, though I couldn't think from where. I heard him go rushing towards the someone who had just passed me, and I heard him speak to her."

"That's a lie, not a word was spoken."

"Then if that's so, I must have dreamt it, and it's one of the funniest dreams I ever had; because I thought I heard him say, 'Here it is, take it. Look out-there's someone coming!' In my dream I heard him say it as plainly as I hear myself speaking now."

"Each word you utter makes me understand you more clearly."

"That's what I want you to do, miss; to understand me. Then off this whoever it was went tearing, and along came somebody else, who turned on one of the lights, and I saw it was a tall, middle-aged gentleman, with a moustache. I got down behind a chair, so that I couldn't hear quite all that you said to each other; then he went off, and you took something which was under a cushion on the seat of the chair by which you were. I could see that it was a leather bag, and I said to myself, 'That's what that other party gave her,' who I'd heard speaking in my dream. You put the bag in the chest by which I am standing, and when you went after that tall gentleman, I wondered what it was; but, as I've said, it wasn't any business of mine, and I didn't like to take the liberty of looking."

"I appreciate the feelings by which you were actuated."

"But when, as I did later, I heard about all that lot of jewellery which had been stolen from the different ladies' rooms, that set me thinking. Miss Forster, would you mind my seeing what is in the bag which you put inside this chest, which you came downstairs to give the man I never saw a chance of passing on to you? Do you mind?"

The woman stood with her hand resting on the chest as if she waited for the girl's permission to raise the lid.

"I perceive," said Miss Forster, "now, for the first time, what a dangerous woman you really are. Do you actually suppose me to be so simple as to be taken in by your acting?"

"Explain yourself, Miss Forster, as plainly as I've explained myself to you. If you'll excuse my saying so, I'm only a servant, but I've got my character to lose-there's something in your tone that I don't like."

"What was your last situation, Jane Simmons?"

"Never you mind what was my last situation, but I was in it for seven years, and a seven years' character is good enough for anyone."

"You expect me to believe that also?"

"I don't care what you believe. May I see what's in the bag that you put inside this chest?"

"Am I also expected to believe that you don't know from whom that bag came?"

"I know it was a man, but who he was I know no more than a babe unborn. Am I to see what's in it, or would you like me to ring the bell and let others have a look?"

"Can't you realise what a foolish game you're playing? You're seeming to suggest that I was associated with what I have no doubt was an act of wholesale robbery; I know that you were."

"You know that I was what?"

"You call yourself Jane Simmons, but I don't suppose that that's your name; you probably assumed it when you entered this house."

"Well, I never did."

"You talk about being seven years in one situation. I doubt if you ever did any honest work in your life. I believe you to be a thief, and the associate of thieves; I have no doubt that what took place last night was carefully planned by you and your confederates; and you have the assurance to stand there and pretend that you think that I was associated with it, in any way whatever."

"Oh, that's it, is it? Now you have spoken plain, now I do understand what you are driving at. Miss Forster, I will rouse the household, and I'm going to tell them what I saw you do; and you'll be able to explain, if you're as innocent as you're trying to make out, why you hid that there bag inside this chest, and who it was that gave it to you; then we'll see."

"We shall. My record is known to every person in this house; I'll have careful inquiries made into yours-you will be able to give details about that situation in which you stayed for seven years; how you will come out of such an inquiry, you know better than I. You foolish woman! To think that sheer impudence will enable you to win at such a game of bluff; don't you know perfectly well that the attempt to fasten your guilt on me will make matters much worse for you?"

For some seconds there was silence; the woman by the chest seemed to be summing Miss Forster up. She did not change countenance, the smile did not fade from her eyes; yet, somehow, something seemed to have fallen from her; she seemed to have ceased to play the part of servant, and to have become a different creature altogether. When she spoke again it was very quietly, coldly, as if she were measuring the meaning of each word before she allowed it to pass her lips.

"Suppose, Miss Forster, that I do not alarm the household, what then?"

"I am afraid that I don't quite grasp your meaning."

"Oh, I'll make it plain enough; you and I had better be plain with each other-it will be good for both of us. There's a leather bag inside this chest; what's going to become of it?"

"It depends on what it contains."

"Oh, you know what it contains; there's jewels in that bag worth fortunes."

"And you ask me what is to become of it; you have that courage?"

"I even have courage to ask it again; if I don't alarm the household, what is to become of that bag?"

"Its contents will be returned to their various owners."

"By whom?"

"By me."

"Oh, I see; and where do I come in?"

"I rather fancy that will be a point for the consideration of the police."

"Oh, that's what you fancy, is it? Now again we are beginning to understand each other. Does that mean that you're going to give me away? If it does, let me beg you to be careful; you'll be giving yourself away much more than you'll be giving me; just think."

"Are you now suggesting that I have been in collusion with you?"

The woman smiled as if the question had been a funny one; the girl could not but see that the smile became her, and that she was not ill-looking.

"Hardly; I can assure you that you are not the sort of person I should choose as a partner if I wanted one; but I was serious when I said to you 'Just think.' For instance, you saw the person who came rushing into the hall last night, and unwillingly left in your charge that leather bag; you have to think of that. You recognised him, didn't you?"

"Who told you so?"

"He did."

The girl started; for the first time something which the other had said had gone home.

"When did he tell you?"

"I didn't time it, but I should say about a minute afterwards."

"Then you saw him again?"

The woman raised her eyebrows, as if with a faint surprise.

"Of course I did. I went straight to where he was; I knew where to find him. The first thing he said to me was, 'Vi Forster saw me.'"

"He said that to you?"

"His very words. I said to him, 'You don't mean that she recognised you?' 'She did,' he said. 'Then,' I said, 'we're in the soup.' 'She's got the bag,' he groaned; I could see that that was what worried him more than the recognition. Then something happened which turned his attention in another direction. You know as well as I do that the man who came into the hall with the bag, which he dropped on to the seat of that chair in his surprise at the sight of you, was Sydney Beaton."

CHAPTER XX
The Leather Bag

The girl had known it, but there was something brutal in the way the woman said it which affected her almost as if she had thrown something in her face; she shrank back-shivered. The woman seemed to be enjoying her obvious discomfiture; she smiled, as if the joke had grown still funnier.

"You see, that's what made me say that you had better think. Suppose you do give me away; after all, I'm not the person whom you saw in possession of the bag, and you did see someone. That someone was a gentleman friend, whose name, I am sure, you don't want to have shouted from the house-tops. Now do you?"

The girl seemed to be reflecting; her cheeks had grown whiter, trouble had come into her eyes; her bearing was in striking contrast to that of the woman in front of her, who could not have seemed to be more completely at her ease.

"How long have you known him?"

"Oh, some time. We've been in one or two little matters together, out of which we have done very well."

"You mean that this is not the first time, that he has done this sort of thing?"

"Gracious, no; he has been in the business quite a time; but I'm not going to give him away, never fear."

She laughed right out, while the girl winced.

"Where is he to be found?"

"I beg your pardon."

"I asked where is he to be found?"

"And you may ask; do you suppose I'd tell you? What, for you to give him away? He'd get-well, he'd get penal servitude for this alone; and then there's that Captain Draycott, or whatever is the name, to whom he owed one."

Again Miss Forster shivered; she glanced about her, as if fearful that the other's words had been overheard.

"What do you mean-about-Captain Draycott?"

"Why, of course you know it was he who did it; you don't want me to tell you that. You know what cause he had; it was he who put him in the cart at that little game of cards."

One could see that Violet Forster made an effort at self-control; but the hideous picture conjured up by the other's careless words was too much for her. She put her hands up to her face; she sank on to a chair, so helpless before the stress of emotion which seemed to be raging within that she sat swaying to and fro. The woman, still smiling, stood and watched; then she said, her voice seeming to be broken by laughter:

"Why, I never thought that you'd take on like this, if you really are taking on, and it isn't put on for my special benefit; it can't be any news to you, you must have known. You saw the man lying dead there; you knew the cause he'd given-the person whose name we won't mention-to out him. What's all the fuss about? This sort of thing won't improve your looks, you know."

If the woman paused expecting Miss Forster to speak, she paused in vain; the agony which seemed to be tearing at the very sources of her being had bereft her of the powers of speech. The spectacle she presented, instead of moving the other to sympathy, seemed to divert her thoughts into channels of bitterness. The smile passed from her face; her tone became hard.

"What has Sydney Beaton to do with you that you should take on like this about him? Let me tell you something about him, which may be a piece of genuine news. If anyone ought to take on about him, it is I, since I'm his wife."

There was silence; then the girl did begin to regain some vestiges of self-control. She ceased to sway to and fro; the dry sobs which seemed to be rending her bosom grew less insistent; she withdrew her hands from her eyes, she looked the speaker steadily in the face.

"That I do not believe."

The words were uttered with an air of quiet conviction which the other resented.

"What don't you believe?"

"I do not believe that you are Sydney Beaton's wife; your statement that you are makes me doubt all that you have said. I am sure that you are not his wife; I believe him to be incapable of marrying such a creature as you. He may have sunk low, but I do not think that he could ever fall quite so low as that. The fact that you have told me that one great lie makes it obvious that you have probably told me others; I doubt that he is the kind of person you make him out to be."

"Oh, you doubt it, do you? Very well. Then rouse the household; they'll soon be getting up without your doing anything to rouse them; hand over the bag and tell your story-give me into custody if you like. Unless you perjure yourself, and I don't think you'll do that, you haven't one shred of evidence against me, as you're perfectly aware. All the evidence you have is against my husband; you could send him to penal servitude. I daresay you could hang him if you set your heart on it; but-I really don't see what good that will do you. By the time the whole story is told, you'll be in almost as bad a mess as he will be, and you know it."

"You steal to get money; I'll give you an opportunity of getting money without stealing. I want to be placed in immediate communication with-the person you know; for what sum of money will you tell me where he is to be found?"

"How much will I take to sell him, that's what you mean!"

"I mean nothing of the kind-and you know it well enough. I simply wish to have an interview with him."

"What good do you expect to get from that?"

"That's my affair."

"Oh, is it? You seem to be forgetting that he is my husband."

"I'm not. No harm will come to him, or to you, even if he occupies the position towards you which you say he does."

"Tell me plainly just what it is you want me to do."

"Give me an opportunity of having an interview with him in the next twenty-four hours, or at the earliest possible moment, and I will give you any sum, in reason, you like to ask."

"You're a fool-you must excuse me speaking plainly, but you are. Even supposing your intentions are all that you pretend they are, can't you see for yourself what harm you'd be doing him? You don't know much about the ways and dodges of the police, that's pretty plain. Now-well, now, you know nothing-to speak of; and particularly you don't know where he is, if anyone was to ask you, and mind you, it's quite possible that someone will before very long. But if you were to see him, and were to get out of him anything of what I'm dead sure you would try to get, then the situation would be changed altogether. As things are, no one can do anything to you, even if you do hold your tongue, because you don't know anything, whatever you may-well, we'll say suspect. But have you ever heard of an accessory after the fact? If you got anything out of him of what you'd try to get, that's what you'd be, an accessory after the fact, if you didn't give him away straight off; and with the best will in the world you wouldn't find it so easy not to do that as you suppose. No, take my word for it, Miss Forster, this is a case, if you don't know it, in which your ignorance is his bliss, and, for both your sakes, it would be folly for you to be wise."

"All of which means-?"

"It means that you'll get no information out of me concerning a certain person who happens to be my husband, if you were to give me all the money you have. Now we'll drop the subject, if you please; time is passing. You don't want to have all Avonham interrupting our tête-à-tête. What's going to happen to this bag? It's his bag. As you pretend to have some sort of feeling about him, and I know he is an old friend of yours, why don't you go back upstairs to bed, and keep from interfering in what, after all, is no concern of yours? I give you my personal assurance that there isn't so much as a ha'p'orth of anything in that bag that belongs to you. For his sake what you don't want is a fuss; he'll never forget the debt he owes you if you keep from making one; you may be the death of him if you do; let me give you my arm to help you up the stairs."

"Let me invert the proposition-you go upstairs, and leave me here."

"And take the bag with me?"

"Empty."

"What will you do with what's inside?"

"The entire contents will be returned to the Countess of Cantyre."

"And if the Countess of Cantyre asks questions?"

"What is that that someone says about the Countess of Cantyre asking questions?"

The inquiry came from the staircase just above them. Before either of them could move, or speak, a small figure came running into the hall. It was the Countess of Cantyre herself.

"Violet!" she exclaimed, "what on earth are you doing here? And-who are you?" The last inquiry was addressed to the woman; but, without waiting for an answer, her ladyship continued: "Do you know, Violet, I couldn't sleep; I haven't had one single wink of sleep, and at last I couldn't stay in bed any longer, I had to come to you. I had a feeling that you mightn't be getting much sleep either; but I didn't expect to find your bed empty, especially considering the state that your foot was in when I saw you last. I prowled about to see what had become of you, and then I heard voices down here, and perhaps now, Violet, you will tell me what this new and most extraordinary behaviour of yours may mean, and who is this woman?"

"This woman," Miss Forster replied, "is the person who calls herself Jane Simmons."

"And pray what may Jane Simmons be doing here, at this hour of the morning, with you?"

"If you please, my lady," replied Jane Simmons, "I heard Miss Forster in the hall, and knowing that she had hurt her foot, I came down to see if I could be of any use to her."

Nothing could have been more becoming to a person of her station than her manner of saying this. Her ladyship eyed her askance.

"Is that so? Well, Violet, has she been of any use to you?"

"None whatever."

"Then, Jane Simmons, I should think that you could go."

The woman went, swiftly, noiselessly, with downcast eyes, across the hall, towards the service stairs. When she was out of sight, she turned towards the direction in which they were; she did not look pleased, and she said, quite loudly enough to have been audible to anyone who might have been standing near:

"I've as good as half a mind to get him hanged, to spite the two of you."

The countess, in the hall, regarded her friend; it was now much lighter, so that it was easy to see how white and worn the girl was looking. It is possible that the consciousness of the pallid face beside her softened the asperity which the lady had meant to mark her tone. She just spoke two words, in the form of a question.

"Well, Vi?"

Miss Forster's reply was still briefer; she merely echoed the other's first word. "Well?"

Her ladyship waited; the girl continued still.

"Is that all you have to say to me?"

Miss Forster sighed, the long-drawn sigh of the sick at heart. Her tone was in tune with the sigh.

"Margaret, if I were to start telling you all there is to tell-and I am so tired. I feel as if I hadn't slept for years, and as if I should never sleep again."

Her ladyship's tone was practical.

"That's all very well, my dear; I can see you're not feeling yourself, but don't you think you ought to tell me something?"

"I'll do better than tell you, since actions speak louder than words."

Miss Forster raised the blue velvet cover, and she opened the chest, this time without interruption; from within she took a brown leather bag and held it out to the countess, who observed it with doubtful eyes.

"What bag is that?"

"Take it and see."

The countess took it, a little gingerly, as if she feared that unpleasant consequences might come from touching it.

"Vi, what are you playing at? Whose is this bag, and how did it get into that chest, and why have you given it to me, and what is in the thing?"

"I cannot tell you quite, as I've only seen the outside of the bag, and that for a moment only, but I can guess what it contains."

"Then it's not yours?"

The girl shook her head.

"Then why have you given it to me?"

"I fancy, if you look inside, its contents will supply the answer."

"But whose bag is it?"

"That I cannot tell you."

"But what right have you to give me permission to look into a bag that certainly doesn't belong to you?"

"Don't be silly, Margaret; I fancy its contents will explain why you should not stand on foolish points of etiquette; open it."

The countess did as she was bid-then broke into exclamation.

"Why, Vi, whatever is all this?"

"That's what I want to know."

"It looks as if it were a diamond necklace."

"I shouldn't be surprised if there were more than one."

"Vi, it's stuffed with them!"

"I thought so; I fancy, when you come to make inquiries, that you will find all those precious things whose loss your guests are bemoaning."

"Was it Jane Simmons who took them?"

"That is a subject on which I would rather you asked me no questions; I cannot answer them."

"But, my dear child, what reason have you for screening her?" Miss Forster merely shook her head. "But in the face of this you can't expect to be allowed to take up an attitude of silence. What explanation am I to give?"

"Give any explanation you choose; you'll find that the people will be too glad to have their things restored to bother you with questions."

"That's all you know; each one of those women will insist on knowing how I was able to restore them, and if I can't give a satisfactory answer they'll begin to think unpleasant things of me. I must tell them something-what am I to tell them? Am I to tell them that I found them in a leather bag which you handed over as if it were a cup of tea? If I do, then for the history of the bag they'll refer to you."

"Then they'll not get it. I'm very sorry, Margaret, but if you knew how I feel you'd let me off, at least for a while; talk to me later on. Mayn't I go upstairs, and try to get a little sleep? I believe that if I could I'd be better able to talk to you than I am now."