XIX
A TALK WITH JANET
I went home decidedly disheartened. As usual, the Inspector'spositiveness and incontrovertible reasoning depressed my spirits,because I felt convinced, although against my will, that he might beright.
But when I entered our apartment, and found Laura and Janet waiting forme, I forgot my troubles in the happiness of seeing Janet in my home.
The girl must have been of an adaptable temperament, for surely ourhousehold was totally unlike the one she had been accustomed to, and yetshe seemed perfectly at home and at ease with us.
She wore black, but her robes of soft trailing silk, with a sort oftransparent net by way of a yoke, did not seem so unsightly as heavycrape-trimmed dresses had always appeared to me.
Indeed the soft dull black was very becoming to Janet, and threw out hercreamy white skin in beautiful relief. Her large dark eyes and duskyhair completed the harmony of black and white, and her scarlet lips werethe only touch of color in the picture.
The evening was a trifle chill, and Laura had a wood fire blazing inthe grate, for even in the short time we had lived in the Hammersleigh,my energetic sister had succeeded in substituting open fires for theornate but unsatisfactory gas logs.
And so it was a cosy picture of home life that met my eyes, as I enteredafter my expedition down to Washington Square.
Of course, I couldn't mention my afternoon's experiences just then, forit was almost dinner time and I knew Laura's aversion to unpleasantsubjects of conversation at the dinner table.
And so I did my part toward making the meal a cheery and pleasantoccasion; and it was less difficult than might have been expected toavoid all reference to the tragedy.
Both women were quite willing to follow my lead, and our talk was of allsorts of pleasant matters, and now and then even verged towardlightness. I realized, as I was sure Laura did too, that Janet was adelightful conversationalist. She was both receptive and responsive. Shecaught a point easily and was quick at repartee. Moreover, she wasgentle and refined, and it is needless to say that my love for her grewapace with my discovery of her merits.
After dinner we returned to the drawing-room, and with her usual tact,Laura contrived a household errand of some nature that took her awayfor a time, and left me alone with my client.
I was all unwilling to break the charm of the pleasant atmosphere we hadcreated, but I knew it must be done if I were to free Janet fromsuspicion.
Determined to learn from her some facts which would help me, I told herat once that I desired a straightforward talk with her.
Immediately her manner changed. She became once more reserved, haughtyand rebellious. But I had no choice save to go on.
"I am so sorry," I said, "that you resent my questioning you about thesethings. For surely, Miss Pembroke, you must understand, and it is myduty to make you understand that your position is serious. Now whetheryou want to or not, won't you please be honest with me, and confide morefully in me what knowledge you may have bearing on the case?"
"I can't be honest," she replied, with a sigh that seemed to come fromher very soul; "I truly can't. Whatever you learn must be without myassistance."
"Why can you not be honest? Are you afraid to be?"
"I cannot answer that question, either. I tell you, Mr. Landon, that Ihave no information of any sort to give you."
"Then I must ask you a few definite questions, and you must answer them.Why did you not mention the letter that came to your uncle from JonathanScudder?"
"Who told you about that?"
The girl started up as if I had accused her of something serious, andindeed perhaps it was.
"The Inspector found the letter in your room," I replied; "as you werenot willing to be frank in these matters, the law took its rights andsearched the whole place for any possible light on the subject."
"And you consider that that letter throws light on the subject?"
"Only to the extent of proving that you purposely suppressed thatletter; and I ask you why?"
"And I refuse to tell you why."
"Miss Pembroke, don't do that. Truly, you injure your own cause byrefusing to tell these things. You have taken me for your lawyer; now ifyou want me to help you, indeed I may almost say to rescue you, from thedanger you are in, you must help me in any way that you can."
My earnestness seemed to have an effect. The girl's face softened andher voice trembled a little as she said, "Perhaps it would be betterfor me to tell you all,--but,--no, I can't, I can't!" She hid her facein her hands, and her whole slender form shook with emotion. But she didnot cry, as I had feared she would. Instead, she raised her head with asudden determined gesture. "There was no reason," she said, with an airof indifference which I knew was assumed; "I simply forgot it, that'sall."
"You forgot it!" I said, looking her straight in the eyes, so earnestly,that her own eyes fell before mine.
I knew she could not persist in a falsehood long, and sure enough in amoment she said, "Well, at least I didn't exactly forget it, but Ithought it was of no consequence."
"You thought it was of no consequence! when only last evening we werediscussing J. S. with your cousin, and wondering who he could be. Atthat time you had read the letter from Jonathan Scudder, saying that hewould not come here Wednesday evening as he had telegraphed that hewould do. Why did you not tell us of it?"
"Perhaps it wasn't the same J. S.!" Janet smiled at me as she said this,and I felt sure the smile was to distract me from my serious purpose,and win me to a lighter mood. And she nearly succeeded, too, for againI saw gentleness in her smile, and when to Janet Pembroke's beautifulface was added the charm of gentleness, it was irresistible indeed.
But by a mighty effort I refrained from being cajoled, and I saidsternly, "You knew it was the same J. S., because the letter referred tothe telegram."
"That's so," she said, musingly; "I never thought of that. I fear I'mnot very clever at deception."
"I fear you are not," I answered, gravely, "and I thank Heaven for it.Now, if you will just put all these matters into my hands, and tell mewhat I ask, you will have no further cause for deception, and, I hope,no more trouble."
"What do you ask?" she said, and never before had she looked so lovely.She spoke in a low tone and had she been the most finished coquette shecould not have appeared more alluring. I was tempted almost beyond mystrength to clasp her in my arms and say, "I ask only for you," but Iknew were I to precipitate matters in that way I might antagonize her,and so lose what slight chance I had of helping her.
"I ask," I said, in low even tones, "that you will tell me frankly whyyou made no mention of the letter from Jonathan Scudder?"
"Because I wished suspicion to rest upon J. S.!" The words were quickand incisive, and fairly cut into the air as she enunciated them clearlyand emphatically.
"Do you know Jonathan Scudder?"
"I do not. I never heard the name until I read that letter. But I knowJ. S. to be an enemy of my uncle, and why may it not be that he came andkilled Uncle Robert, even after he sent that letter? Perhaps he sent itfor a blind."
"Miss Pembroke, you do not believe J. S. came at all on Wednesday night.You know he did not, and you are making this up simply that suspicionmay be turned in his direction. Is not this true?"
"Yes," faintly murmured the girl, "you asked me to be frank, and I havebeen."
She was making an awful admission, and she was perfectly well aware ofit. Fear clutched at my heart. If she herself had killed her uncle, hownatural to endeavor to throw suspicion on an unknown man. Again, ifLeroy were implicated, or if they had been companions in wrong-doing howequally plausible a ruse!
Her face was white now to the very lips. Her hands trembled, and hereyes darted frightened glances, as if she knew not which way to turnnext.
"Miss Pembroke," I said, very gently, "I'm more sorry than I can tellyou, that you persist in secrecy. But since you do I will speak for you.You want to throw suspicion on J. S., in order to divert it eit
her fromyourself or from someone else whom you wish to shield."
"How do you know that?" cried Janet, looking up with startled eyes.
"It is not difficult to guess," I said, bitterly. "Nor is it difficultto guess the identity of the one you might wish to shield."
"Don't!" breathed Janet, clasping her hands; "don't breathe his namealoud!"
"I will!" I said, thoroughly angered now; "it is Graham Leroy, and youdo love him, in spite of your pretended dislike of him!"
I paused suddenly, for a new thought had struck me. If Leroy were themurderer, and if Janet had admitted him to the house, and willingly orunwillingly been cognizant of his deed, then she would act exactly theway she had acted! She would try to shield him, try to avert suspicionfrom him, but of course she could not have him for her lawyer, andthough she still loved him, she could not but scorn him.
The suddenness of these thoughts so overwhelmed me that for a moment Idid not look at her. When I did, I was amazed at the change in herface. From a white pallor it had turned to an angry red, and my heartfell as I realized that she was angry at me for discovering her secret.
"Don't look like that," I pleaded; "only tell me the truth, and I willhelp you,--I will help you both. At any rate, I know that _you_ wereguiltless, even if you have a guilty knowledge of Leroy's deed."
"You needn't assume me guiltless," Janet said, and her low voicedestitute of inflection, sounded as if she were forcing herself torecite, parrot-like, a lesson already learned. "I had motive, and Mr.Leroy had none."
"He may have had a dozen motives, for all I know," I said, ratherharshly, for I was beginning to realize that if she cared enough forLeroy to proclaim herself guilty, my hopes were small indeed. "He mayhave wanted that money himself, and come back to get it!" This was amean speech on my part, and utterly unfounded, but I was so angry atJanet for shielding Leroy's name, that I cared little what I said.
"Oh, Mr. Leroy never wanted money; he's a very rich man."
"Who did want the money then? Did you?" I was fast forgetting mymanners, and my determination to win Janet's confidence by kindliness,but I had not expected to have Leroy thus flung in my face.
"Yes, I wanted money," said Janet, "you learned that from Charlotte'sevidence."
"You are the strangest girl!" I said, staring at her, "you won't tell methe simple things I ask, and then you fire a statement like that at me!What do you mean? That you really wanted a large sum of money?"
"Yes; ten thousand dollars." The girl whispered this, and it seemed tomy bewildered fancy as if she said it without even her own volition. Itseemed forced from her by some subconscious process, and I was bothamazed and frightened. But I tried not to show my feelings, for if Iwould learn the truth of this surprising revelation, I must movecarefully.
"Did you want that much?" I said, in a casual way, as if it were a merenominal sum. "What did you want it for?"
"As if I should tell you that!" and this astounding piece of humanitytossed her head, and smiled almost roguishly at me.
"Never mind what you wanted it for," I said, "but you did want it,didn't you? And you asked your uncle for it, and he refused you."
"He said that if,--if I would,--would--oh, what am I saying!" She brokeoff with a little gasp, as if she had almost betrayed a secret. But Iknew.
"He said he would give it to you, and more too, if you would marry Mr.Leroy, didn't he?"
"Yes," Janet replied, and this time she spoke in a simple, natural voiceand looked at me frankly.
"But, as you wanted the money to give to Mr. Leroy, and didn't want tomarry him, your uncle's proposition didn't please you?"
Janet looked at me in a bewildered way. "Yes," she stammered,"yes,--that was it."
But I was learning my girl at last. For some reason she was telling astring of falsehoods! My faith in her made me believe that she was doingthis for some definite and, to her, justifiable purpose. And yet, thoughmy suggestion about Leroy seemed to me to be in line with her plans, andthough she had said yes to it,--yet I knew it was not the truth. Myrapidly increasing love for her gave me an insight into her nature, andthough I might not be able to persuade her to tell me the truth, yet Icould discern when she spoke truly and when falsely.
"I give it up," I said to her, suddenly adopting a lighter tone; "I cando nothing with you tonight in our relations of client and lawyer. Letus drop the whole dreadful subject for the rest of this evening, and letus pretend that we are just good friends, with no troublesome questionsbetween us.
"Yes," agreed Janet, with a smile of delight, "let us do that; butanyway, I don't see why the troublesome questions that come between usas lawyer and client, should interfere with our friendship."
"Nor do I, bless you!" I exclaimed, and with a lightened heart I putaside my burden of doubt and fear for the present. And soon Laura cameback, and we all chatted pleasantly, without reference to anythinggruesome or dreadful.
Laura had not heard our foregoing conversation, and had not, as I fearedI had, additional reasons to wonder at Janet Pembroke.
But, we were both charmed with the girl's vivacity and entertainingpowers. She did or said nothing which savored too much of gayety toharmonize with her black gown, and yet her little whimsical speeches andher gentle wistful smiles won our hearts anew, and made both Laura andmyself feel bound to her without regard to the cloud that hung above herhead.