CHAPTER XX--MOLLY'S STORY
The next morning, in the hall, right after breakfast I told her what Ihad to tell--I mean who I was. It gave her a start--held her listeningwith her eyes hard on mine--then when I explained it was for inside workon the robbery she eased up, got cool and nodded her head at me,politely agreeing. She understood perfectly and would go wherever shewas wanted; she was glad to do anything that would be of assistance; noone was more anxious than she to help the family in their distress, andso forth and so on.
On the way in she was quiet, but I don't think as peaceful as she acted.She asked me some questions about my work. I answered brisk and brightand she said it must be a very interesting profession. I've seen nervypeople in my time but no woman that beat her for cool sand, and the wayI'm built I can't help but respect courage no matter what the person'slike who has it. Before we reached town I was full of admiration forthat girl who, as far as I could judge, was a crook from the ground up.
When we reached the office I was called into an inner room where theChief and Mr. George were waiting. I gave them my paper with the 'phonemessage on it, and answered the few questions they had to ask. I learnedthen that they'd got hold of more evidence against her. O'Malley hadsnooped round the Gayle Street locality and heard that on Friday morningabout half-past eleven a taxi, containing a child resembling Bebita, hadbeen seen opposite a book bindery on the corner of the block. I didn'thear any particulars but I saw by the Chief's manner, quiet and sort ofabsorbed, and by Mr. George, like a blue-ribbon pup straining at theleash, that they had Esther Maitland dead to rights and the end was insight.
After that I was sent back into the hall where I'd left her and told tobring her into the old man's private office. We went up the passage, amurmur of voices growing louder as we advanced. She was ahead and, asthe door opened, she stopped for a moment on the threshold, quick, likea horse that wants to shy. Over her shoulder I could see in, and I don'twonder she pulled up--any one would. There, beside the Chief and Mr.George, were the two old Janneys and Mrs. Price, sitting stiff asstatues, each of them with their eyes on her, gimlet-sharp andgimlet-hard. They said some sort of "How d'ye do" business and made bowslike Chinese mandarins, but their faces would have made a chorus girlget thoughtful. I guessed then they knew about the tapped message andhad come to see Miss Maitland get the third degree. She scented thetrouble ahead too--I don't see how she could have helped it; there wasthunder in the air. But she said good-morning to them, cordial and easy,and walked over to the chair Mr. George pushed forward for her.
Sitting there in the midst of them, she looked at the Chief, politelyinquiring, and I couldn't help but think she was a winner. Mrs. Price,all weazened up and washed out, was like a cosmetic advertisement besideher. She held herself very straight, her hands folded together in herlap, her head up cool and proud. She had on the white hat with thewreath of grapes and a wash-silk dress of white with lilac stripes thatset easy over her fine shoulders, and, believe me, bad or good, she wasa thoroughbred.
The Chief, turning himself round toward her with a hitch of his chair,began as bland and friendly as if they'd just met at a tea-fest.
"We're very sorry to bother you again, Miss Maitland. But certain factshave come up since you were here that make it necessary for me to askyou a few more questions."
She just inclined her head a little and murmured:
"It's no bother at all, Mr. Whitney. I'm only too anxious to help in anyway I can."
Honest-to-God I think the Chief got a jar; the words came as smooth andas cool as cream just off the ice. For a second he looked at his deskand moved a paper knife very careful, as if it was precious and he wasafraid of breaking it.
"I'm glad to hear you say that, Miss Maitland. It's not only what onewould expect you to feel, but it makes me sure that you will be willingto explain certain circumstances concerning yourself andyour--er--activities--that have--well--er--rather puzzled us."
It was my business to watch her and even if it hadn't been I couldn'thave helped doing it. I saw just two things--the light strike whiteacross the breast of her blouse where a quick breath lifted it, and, fora second, her hands close tight till the knuckles shone. Then theyrelaxed and she said very softly:
"Certainly. I'll explain anything."
"Very good. I was sure you would." He leaned forward, one arm on thedesk, his big shoulders hunched, his eyes sharp on her but still verykind. "We have discovered--of course you'll understand that ourdetectives have been busy in all directions--that nearly a month ago youtook a room at 76 Gayle Street. Now that I should ask about this mayseem an unwarranted impertinence, but I would like to know just why youtook that room."
There was a slight pause. Mrs. Price, who was sitting next to me, anempty chair in front of her, rustled and in the moment of silence Icould hear her breathing, short and catchy, like it was coming hard.Miss Maitland, who, as the Chief had spoken, had dropped her eyes to herhands, looked up at him:
"I have no objection to telling you. I took it for a school friend ofmine--Aggie Brown, a girl I hadn't seen for years. A month ago she wroteme from St. Louis and told me she was coming to New York to study artand asked me to engage a room for her. She said she had very littlemoney and it must be inexpensive. I had heard of that place from othergirls--that it was respectable and cheap--so I engaged the room. It sohappens that my friend is not yet in New York. She was delayed byillness in her family."
I sent a look around and caught them like pictures going quick in amovie--Mr. Janney glimpsing sideways, worried and frowning, at his wife,Mr. George, his arm on the back of his chair, pulling at his littleblonde mustache and twisting his mouth around, and the Chief pawingabsent-minded after the paper knife. Miss Maitland, with her chin up andher shoulders square, had her eye on him, attentive and steady, like asoldier waiting for orders.
Then out of the silence came Mrs. Janney's voice, rumbling like distantthunder:
"But you went to that room yourself?"
The Chief's hand made a quick wave at her for silence. Miss Maitlanddidn't seem to notice it; she turned to Mrs. Janney and answered:
"Yes, several times, Mrs. Janney. I'd had to pay the rent in advance andI had a key, so when I was in town and had time to spare I went there.It was quiet and convenient--I used to write letters and read."
"Would you mind telling me why Mr. Chapman Price went there too?"
It was the Chief's voice this time, quite low and oh, so deep and mild.Miss Maitland's attitude didn't change, but again her hands clasped andstayed clasped. She gave a little, provocative smile, almost as if shewas trying to flirt with him, and said:
"You seem to know a great deal about me and my affairs, Mr. Whitney."
He returned the smile, good-humored, as if he liked the way she'd comeback at him.
"A little, Miss Maitland. You see we have had to, unpleasant but stillnecessary--you have no objection to answering?"
"Oh, not the least, only--" her glance swept over the solemn faces ofthe others--"I'm afraid Mrs. Janney may not approve of what I've done. Imet Mr. Price there to tell him about Bebita; I was sorry for him, forthe position he was in. He was fond of her and he heard almost nothingabout her. So I arranged to give him news of her, tell him how she was,and little funny things she had said. It wasn't the right thing to dobut I--I--pitied him so."
A sound--I can't call it anything but a grunt--came from Mrs. Janney.Mr. George, still pulling at his mustache, shifted uneasily in hischair. Beside me I could hear that stifled breathing of Mrs. Price, andher hand, all covered with rings, stole forward and clasped like abird's claw on the chair in front. I don't think Miss Maitland noticedany of this. Her eyes were on the Chief, fixed and sort of defiant. Herface had lost its calm look; there were pink spots on her cheek bones.
"A natural thing to do," said the Chief mildly, "though hardly discreetconsidering the situation. But we won't argue about that--we'll pass onto the business of the moment. Now you told us last time you were herethat you left the ta
xi in front of Justin's. Inquiries there of thedoorman have elicited the information that he remembers the cab and thechild, and says it was still there when you came out and that you gotinto it and drove away."
"How can the doorman at a place where hundreds of carriages stop everyday remember the people in each one?" All the softness was gone out ofher voice and her face began to look different, as if it had grownthinner. "It's absurd--he couldn't possibly be sure of every woman andchild who stopped there. My word is against his, and it seems to me I'mmuch more likely to know what I did than he is--especially _that_ day."
"Certainly, certainly." The Chief was all kindly understanding. "Underthe circumstances every event of that morning should be impressed onyour memory. But another fact has come up that seems to us curious. Oneof our detectives has heard from a clerk in a book bindery at the cornernear 76 Gayle Street, that on Friday last, at about half-past eleven, hesaw a taxi standing at the curb there. He noticed a child in it talkingto the driver and his description of this child, her appearance andclothes, is a very accurate description of Bebita."
He looked at her over his glasses, with a sort of ominous, waitingattention. I'd have wilted under it, but she didn't, only what had beena restrained quietness gave place to a sort of steely tension. You couldsee that her body all over was as rigid as the hands clenched together,the fingers knotted round each other. It was will and a fighting spiritthat kept her up. I began to feel my own muscles drawing tight,wondering if she'd get through and praying that she would--I don't knowwhy.
"It's quite possible that this man--this clerk--may have seen such ataxi with such a child in it. There must be a great many little girls inNew York whose description would fit Bebita. I dare say if yourdetective had gone about the city he would have heard of any number ofcabs and children that would have fitted just as well. I can't imaginewhy you're asking me these questions or why you don't seem to believewhat I say. But even if you don't believe it, that won't prevent me fromsticking to it."
"A commendable spirit, Miss Maitland, when one is sure of one's facts,"said the Chief, and suddenly pushing back his chair he rose. "Now I'vejust one more matter to call to your attention, a little memorandumhere, which, if you'll be good enough to explain, we'll end this rathertrying interview."
He went over to her, fumbling in his vest pocket, and then drew out myfolded paper and put it into her hand:
"It's the record of a telephone message received by you yesterday atGrasslands, and tapped by our detective, Miss Rogers."
He stepped back and stood leaning against the desk watching her. We alldid; there wasn't an eye in that room which wasn't glued on thatunfortunate girl as she opened the paper and read the words.
It was a knock-out blow. I knew it would be--I didn't see how itcouldn't--and yet she'd put up such a fight that some way or other Ithought she'd pull out. But that bowled her over like a nine pin.
She turned as white as the paper and her hands holding it shook so youcould hear it rustle. Then she looked up and her eyes wereawful--hunted, desperate. Yet she made a last frantic effort, with herface like a death mask and all the breath so gone out of her she hadonly a hoarse thread of voice:
"I--I--don't know what this is--oh, yes, yes, I mean I do. But it--itrefers to something else--it's--it's--that friend of mine--Aggie Brownfrom St. Louis--she's come and Mr. Price--"
She couldn't go on; her lips couldn't get out any words. You could seethe brain behind them had had such a shock it wouldn't work.
"Miss Maitland," said the Chief, solemn as an executioner, "we've gotyou where you can't keep this up. There's no use in these evasions anddenials. Where is Bebita?"
"I don't know--I don't know anything about her. I swear to Heaven Idon't."
She raised her voice with the last words and looked at them, round atthose stony faces, wild like an animal cornered.
"What's the matter with you? Why do you think I'd be a party to such athing? Why don't you believe me--why _can't_ you believe me? And youdon't--not one of you. You think I'm guilty of this infamous thing. Allright, _think_ it. Do what you like with me--arrest me, put me in jail,I don't care."
She put her hands over her face and collapsed down in her chair, like aspring that had held her up had broken. That breathing beside me hadgrown so loud it sounded as if it came from some one running the lastlap of a race. Now it suddenly broke into a sound--more like a growlthan anything else--and Mrs. Price got up, shuffling and shaking, herhands holding on to the chair in front.
"She ought to be put in jail," she gasped out. "She's bad rightthrough--everything she's said is a lie. And she's a thief too."
There was a movement of consternation among them all--getting up,pushing back chairs, several voices speaking together:
"Keep quiet."
"Mrs. Price, I beg of you--"
"Suzanne, sit down."
But she went on, looking like a withered old witch, with her bird-likehands clutched on the chair back:
"I won't sit down, I won't keep quiet. I've sat here listening to allthis and I've had enough. I'm crazy; my baby's gone; she's taken it,she's taken everything--" She turned to her mother. "She took yourjewels--I know it."
Mr. Janney burst in like a bombshell. I never thought he could breakloose that way, with his voice shrill and a shaking finger pointing intohis stepdaughter's face.
"Stop this. I can't stand for it--I know something about that--I saw--"
But she wouldn't stop, no one could make her:
"I saw too, and I'm going to tell you. I don't care what you say, Idon't care what you think of me--my heart's broken and I don't care foranything but to have my baby back." She addressed her mother again. "_I_went to take your jewels that night. Yes, I did; I went to stealthem--not all of them--just that long diamond chain you never wear._You_ know why; you knew I hadn't any money and that I had to have it. Iwas going to sell it and put what I got in stocks and if I was lucky buyit back so you'd never know. It was _I_ who took Bebita's torch--that'swhy it was lost--and I went down to the safe. I'd found the combinationin a drawer in the library and learnt it. And when I opened iteverything was gone. Some one had been there before me, the cases wereall together in their box but they were empty." She clawed at theembroidered purse hanging on her arm and began to jerk at the cord,pulling it open. "But I found something, something the thief haddropped, lying on the floor just inside the door." She drew out a twistof tissue paper, and unrolling it held it toward the Chief; "I found_that_."
He took it, scrutinizing it, puzzled, through his glasses. Every one ofus except Miss Maitland, all standing now, craned forward to see. It wasa pointed pink thing about as big as the end of my little finger. TheChief touched it and said:
"It looks like a small rose."
"Yes, a chiffon rosebud," Mrs. Price cried, "and she," pointing to MissMaitland, "wore a dress that night trimmed with them."
We all turned, as if we were a piece of mechanism worked by the samespring, and stared at Miss Maitland. She sat in the chair, not moving,looking straight before her, weary and indifferent. The Chief held outtoward her the piece of paper with the rose on the middle of it.
"Have you a dress trimmed with these?"
She moved her eyes so they rested on the rose, ran her tongue along herlips and said:
"Yes."
"Did you wear it on the night of the robbery?"
"Yes."
"Did you hear what Mrs. Price has just said?"
"Yes."
"What explanation do you make?"
"None--except that I don't know how it got there."
"You deny that you were there yourself that night?"
"Yes--I was never near the safe that night; I haven't the slightest ideahow the rose came to be in it; I never took the jewels; I have hadnothing to do with Bebita's disappearance; I haven't done any of thethings you think I've done. But what's the good of my saying so--what'sthe good of answering at all?" She dropped her face into her hands, herelbows propped on her knees.
The attitude, the tone of her voice,everything about her, suggested an "Oh-what's-the-use!" feeling. Frombehind her hands the words came dull and listless. "Do anything you likewith me; it doesn't make any difference. You think you've got mecornered; that being the case, I'll do whatever you say."
Mrs. Janney made a step toward her:
"Miss Maitland, I'll agree to let the whole matter drop--hush it up andlet you go without a word--if you'll tell us where Bebita is."
Without moving her hands the girl answered:
"I can't tell, for I don't know."
Mrs. Price sank into her chair with a loud, sobbing wail. Some one tookher away--Mr. George, I think. Then Mr. Janney had his say:
"If you're doing this to protect Price--"
She cut him off with a laugh, at least it was meant to be a laugh, butit was a horrible, harsh sound. As she gave it she lifted her head andcast a look at him, bitter and defiant:
"Protect him! I've no more desire to protect Mr. Price than I have toprotect myself."
The Chief's voice fell deep as the church bell at a funeral:
"If you maintain this attitude, Miss Maitland, there's nothing for us todo but let the law take its course. Theft and kidnaping! Those arepretty serious charges."
She nodded:
"I suppose they are. Let the law do whatever it wants; I'm certainly notstanding in its way. But as for bribing and frightening me intoadmitting what isn't true, you can't do it. All your money," she lookedat Mrs. Janney and then at the Chief, "and all _your_ threats won'tinfluence me or make me change one word of what I've said."
No one spoke for a minute. She sat silent, her chin on her hands, hereyes staring past them out of the window. I had a feeling that in spiteof the position she was in and what they had on her, in a sort of wayshe had them beaten. Their faces were glum and baffled, even the Chiefhad an abstracted expression like he was thinking what he ought to dowith her. When he spoke it was to the Janneys:
"Since Miss Maitland persists in her present pose of ignorance anddenial, the best thing for us is to get together and decide on ourcourse of action." He glanced across at me. "We'll leave you here,Molly. Stay till we come back."
Away they went, a solemn procession, trailing across the room. When thedoor into the main office opened I could hear Mrs. Price crying, and Iwatched them, catching Mrs. Janney's words as she disappeared: "Oh,Suzanne, my poor, poor, girl! Don't give up--don't be discouraged--we'llfind her!"
It gripped me, made a sort of prickling come in my nose and a twistyfeeling in my under lip. I never could have believed that stern oldRoman could have spoken so tender and loving to any one.
When I looked at Miss Maitland I forgot all about suffering mothers.She'd sunk down in the chair, her head resting against its back, hereyes closed. She was as white as a corpse, and I wheeled about lookinground the room for some kind of first aid and muttering, "Gee, she'sfainted!"
A whisper came out of her lips:
"Nothing--all right--in a minute."
There was a bottle of distilled water in a corner and I went to it, drewoff a glass and brought it to her. She couldn't hold it and I took herround the shoulders and pulled her up, saying out of the inner depths ofme, that's always mushy about anything hurt and forlorn:
"You, poor soul, here take this. I'm sorry for you, and I can't helpbeing sorry that I had to give you away."
I held the glass to her lips and she drank a little. Then I let her fallback and stood watching her, and I felt mean. She raised her eyes andsent a look into mine that I'll never forget--it made me feel meanerthan a yellow dog--for it was the look of a suffering soul.
"Thanks," was all she said.