Produced by Annie R. McGuire. This book was produced fromscanned images of public domain material from the GooglePrint archive.
"THIS IS THE MOST BLESSED OF ALL YOURCONTRADICTIONS"--_Page 267_]
A CHAINOF EVIDENCE
_BY_CAROLYN WELLSAUTHOR OF "THE GOLD BAG," "THE CLUB"
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOR BYGAYLE HOSKINS
PHILADELPHIA & LONDONJ. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY1912
COPYRIGHT, 1907BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
COPYRIGHT, 1912BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE I. THE GIRL ACROSS THE HALL 7 II. THE TRAGEDY 18 III. JANET PEMBROKE 30 IV. DOCTOR POST'S DISCOVERY 41 V. SEVERAL CLUES 52 VI. THE INQUEST BEGINS 63 VII. I GIVE EVIDENCE 75 VIII. AN AWFUL IMPLICATION 88 IX. GEORGE LAWRENCE 103 X. PERSON OR PERSONS UNKNOWN 118 XI. THE CHAINED DOOR 130 XII. JANET IS OUR GUEST 144 XIII. JANET IS MYSTERIOUS 160 XIV. MRS. ALTONSTALL 173 XV. WHO IS J. S.? 186 XVI. LEROY ARRIVES ON THE SCENE 201 XVII. CAN LEROY BE GUILTY? 214 XVIII. THE ROOMS IN WASHINGTON SQUARE 227 XIX. A TALK WITH JANET 239 XX. THE INITIALED HANDKERCHIEF 251 XXI. FLEMING STONE 264 XXII. A CALL ON MISS WARING 282 XXIII. LAWRENCE'S STATEMENT 295 XXIV. THE CHAIN OF EVIDENCE 306
I
THE GIRL ACROSS THE HALL
I do hate changes, but when my sister Laura, who keeps house for me,determined to move further uptown, I really had no choice in the matterbut to acquiesce. I am a bachelor of long standing, and it's my opinionthat the way to manage women is simply to humor their whims, and sinceLaura's husband died I've been rather more indulgent to her than before.Any way, the chief thing to have in one's household is peace, and Ifound I secured that easily enough by letting Laura do just as sheliked; and as in return she kept my home comfortable and pleasant forme, I considered that honors were even. Therefore, when she decided wewould move, I made no serious objection.
At least, not in advance. Had I known what apartment-hunting meant Ishould have refused to leave our Gramercy Park home.
But "Uptown" and "West Side" represented to Laura the Mecca of herdesires, and I unsuspectingly agreed to her plans.
Then the campaign began.
Early every morning Laura scanned the papers for new advertisements.Later every morning she visited agents, and then spent the rest of theday inspecting apartments.
Then evenings were devoted to summing up the experiences of the day andpreparing to start afresh on the morrow.
She was untiring in her efforts; always hopeful, and indeed positivethat she would yet find the one apartment that combined all possibleadvantages and possessed no objectionable features.
At first I went with her on her expeditions, but I soon saw the futilityof this, and, in a sudden access of independence, I declared I wouldhave no more to do with the search. She might hunt as long as she chose;she might decide upon whatever home she chose; but it must be without myadvice or assistance. I expressed myself as perfectly willing to live inthe home she selected, but I refused to trail round in search of it.
Being convinced of my determination, my sister accepted the situationand continued the search by herself.
But evenings I was called upon as an advisory board, to hear the resultof the day's work and to express an opinion. According to Laura itrequired a careful balancing of location and conveniences, ofneighborhood and modern improvements before the momentous questionshould be decided.
Does an extra bathroom equal one block further west? Is an onyx-linedentrance greater than a buttoned hall-boy? Are palms in the hall worthmore than a red velvet hand-rail with tassels?
These were the questions that racked her soul, and, sympathetically,mine.
Then the name. Laura declared that the name was perhaps the mostimportant factor after all. A name that could stand alone at the top ofone's letter paper, without the support of a street number, was indeedan achievement. But, strangely enough, such a name proved to be a veryexpensive proposition, and Laura put it aside with a resigned sigh.
Who does name the things, anyway? Not the man who invents the names ofthe Pullman cars, for they are of quite a different sort.
Well, it all made conversation, if nothing more.
"I wish you would express a preference, Otis," Laura would say, and thenI would obligingly do so, being careful to prefer the one I knew was nother choice. I did this from the kindest of motives, in order to give thedear girl the opportunity which I knew she wanted, to argue against myselection, and in favor of her own.
Then I ended by being persuaded to her way of thinking, and that settledthe matter for that time.
"Of course," she would say, "if you're never going to marry, but alwayslive with me, you ought to have some say in the selection of our home."
"I don't expect to marry," I returned; "that is, I have no intention ofsuch a thing at present. But you never can tell. The only reason I'm notmarried is because I've never seen the woman I wanted to make my wife.But I may yet do so. I rather fancy that if I ever fall in love, it willbe at first sight, and very desperately. Then I shall marry, and hunt anapartment of my own."
"H'm," said my sister, "you seem to have a sublime assurance that thelady will accept you at first sight."
"If she doesn't, I have confidence in my powers of persuasion. But as Ihaven't seen her yet, you may as well go ahead with your plans for thecontinuation of the happy and comfortable home you make for me."
Whereupon she patted me on the shoulder, and remarked that I was a dearold goose, and that some young woman was missing the chance of her lifein not acquiring me for a husband!
At last Laura decided, regarding our home, that location was the thingafter all, and she gave up much in the way of red velvet and buttons,for the sake of living on one of the blocks sanctioned by those whoknow.
She decided on the Hammersleigh; in the early sixties, and not too farfrom the river.
Though not large, the Hammersleigh was one of the most attractive of themoderate-priced apartment houses in New York City. It had a dignified,almost an imposing entrance, and though the hall porter was elevator boyas well, the service was rarely complained of.
Of course dwellers in an apartment house are not supposed to know theirfellow-tenants on the same floor, any more than occupants of abrown-stone front are supposed to be acquainted with their next-doorneighbors. But even so, I couldn't help feeling an interest which almostamounted to curiosity concerning the young lady who lived in theapartment across the hall from our own in the Hammersleigh.
I had seen her only at a few chance meetings in the elevator or in theentrance hall, and in certain respects her demeanor was peculiar.
Of course I knew the young lady's name. She was Miss Janet Pembroke, andshe lived with an old uncle whom I had never seen. Although we had beenin the Hammersleigh but tw
o weeks, Laura had learned a few factsconcerning the old gentleman. It seems he was Miss Pembroke'sgreat-uncle, and, although very wealthy, was of a miserly dispositionand a fierce temper. He was an invalid of some sort, and never left theapartment; but it was said that his ugly disposition and tyrannical waysmade his niece's life a burden to her. Indeed, I myself, as I passedtheir door, often heard the old ogre's voice raised in tones ofvituperation and abuse; and my sister declared that she was notsurprised that the previous tenants had vacated our apartment, for theold man's shrill voice sometimes even penetrated the thick walls.However, Laura, too, felt an interest in Miss Pembroke, and hoped thatafter a time she might make her acquaintance.
The girl was perhaps twenty-one or twenty-two, of a brunette type, and,though slender, was not at all fragile-looking. Her large, dark eyes hada pathetic expression, but except for this her appearance was haughty,proud, and exceedingly reserved. She had never so much as glanced atMrs. Mulford or myself with the least hint of personal interest. To besure, I had no reason to expect such a thing, but the truth is, I feltsorry for the girl, who must certainly lead a hard life with thatdreadful old man.
Laura informed me that there was no one else in the Pembroke householdexcept one servant, a young colored woman.
I had seen Miss Pembroke perhaps not more than a half-dozen times, and Ihad already observed this: if I chanced to see her as she came out ofher own door or descended in the elevator, she was apparently nervouslyexcited. Her cheeks were flushed and her expression was one of utterexasperation, as if she had been tried almost beyond endurance. If, onthe other hand, I saw her as she was returning from a walk or an errand,her face was calm and serene--not smiling, but with a patient, resignedlook, as of one who had her emotions under control. At either time shewas beautiful. Indeed, I scarcely know which aspect seemed to me moreattractive: the quivering glow of righteous indignation or the bravecalm of enforced cheerfulness.
Nor had I any right to consider her attractive in either case. It is notfor a man to think too personally about a woman he has never met.
But I had never before seen a face that so plainly, yet sounconsciously, showed passing emotions, and it fascinated me.
Aside from Miss Pembroke's beauty, she must be, I decided, possessed ofgreat strength of character and great depth of feeling.
But beyond all doubt the girl was not happy, and though this was not myaffair, it vaguely troubled me.
I admitted to myself, I even admitted to Laura, that I felt compassionfor this young woman who seemed to be so ill-treated; but my sisteradvised me not to waste my sympathy too easily, for it was her opinionthat the young woman was quite capable of taking care of herself, andthat in all probability she held her own against her poor old uncle.
"I don't see why you assume a poor old uncle," I said, "when you knowhow he berates her."
"Yes, but how do I know what she may do to deserve it? Those dark eyesshow a smouldering fire that seems to me quite capable of breaking intoflame. I rather fancy Miss Pembroke can hold her own against any verbalonslaught of her uncle."
"Then I'm glad she can," I declared; "as she has to stand such unjusttyranny, I hope she has sufficient self-assertion to resent it. I'drather like to see that girl in a towering rage; she must lookstunning!"
"Otis," said my sister, smiling, "you're becoming altogether too deeplyinterested in Miss Pembroke's appearance. She is a good-looking girl,but not at all the kind we want to know."
"And why not, pray?" I inquired, suddenly irritated at my sister's tone."I think she is quite of our own class."
"Oh, gracious, yes! I didn't mean that. But she is so haughty and moody,and I'm sure she's of a most intractable disposition. Otis, that girl isdeceitful, take my word for it. I've seen her oftener than you have, andI've heard her talk."
"You have! Where?"
"Oh, just a few words now and then--in the elevator perhaps; and one dayshe was talking to the agent who lives on the first floor of theapartment. _Tumultuous_ is the only word to describe her."
"H'm; she must be of a tumultuous nature if she can't control it whentalking to an elevator boy or a house agent."
"Oh, I don't mean she was then; but she gave me the impression of adesperate nature, held in check by a strong will."
"Sounds interesting," I said, smiling at my sister's vehemence.
"But that's just what I don't want!" declared Laura, emphatically."You're not to get interested in that Pembroke girl; I won't have it! Ifyou're going to fall in love at first sight, it must be with some onemore gentle and more pleasing of demeanor than our mysterious neighbor."
"But you see, I've already had my first sight of Miss Pembroke, andso----" I looked at my sister, teasingly.
"And you've already fallen in love? Oh, don't tell me that!"
"Nonsense! Of course I haven't done anything of the sort! I've seen MissPembroke two or three times. I admire her beauty, and I can't helpthinking that she is terribly treated by that cruel uncle. She may be atermagant herself--I've no means of knowing--but as a casual observer mysympathies are with her, and I can't help feeling hard toward the oldman."
"You take a perfectly ridiculous attitude," Laura responded. "Like allmen you are bewitched by a pair of big dark eyes and a pathetic mouth. Itell you, in all probability that poor old man is more entitled tosympathy than that melodramatic-looking girl!"
As I have said, I always humor Laura, even in her opinions; so I onlyresponded: "Very likely you are right, my dear," and let the subjectdrop. I'm a lawyer, and I'm thirty-two years old, both of whichconditions have led me to the conclusion that in dealing with womenacquiescence in unimportant matters is always expedient.
But we were destined to become intimately acquainted with the Pembrokehousehold, and to have opportunities to judge for ourselves whether MissJanet deserved our sympathy or not.
The hall boy usually brought the first morning mail to our door at abouteight o'clock, and when he rang the bell it was my habit to open thedoor and take the letters from him myself.
One morning I did this, as usual, and stood a moment looking carelesslyover the letters before I closed the door. I may as well own up that Idid this partly in the hope that Miss Pembroke would appear at theopposite door, where the boy was already ringing the bell. But my hopewas unfulfilled, for, with a little click, the door was pulled open,then suddenly stopped with a sharp snap by reason of a night-chain.
"Laws!" exclaimed what was unmistakably a negro girl's vice, "I nebbercan 'member dat chain!"
The door was clicked shut again, and I could hear the chain slid backand released; then the door opened and the grinning face of the coloredgirl appeared, and the boy gave her the letters. As there was no furtherhope of catching a glimpse of Miss Pembroke, I went back to mybreakfast.