Chapter XII
TESTS
Dorothy came down the wide staircase a few minutes before eleven-thirty.She wore a dark blue morning frock of her cousin's, its simplicityrelieved only by the soft white collar and deep cuffs. Except for beingrather tight across the shoulders it fitted her as though she had beenpoured into it. She had selected this dress because she knew it was justthe sort of thing a new secretary would be expected to wear.
She crossed the broad hall to the open door of the library, and therefound Mrs. Lawson standing before a window staring into the storm.Although Dorothy's footsteps made practically no sound on the thick pileof the handsome Bokhara rug, the woman turned like a flash at herentrance.
"Oh, good morning, Janet." The frown on her face gave way to a pleasantsmile. "I hope you were comfortable last night. Did you sleep well?"
"I dropped off as soon as my head touched the pillow," she answered,taking Mrs. Lawson's outstretched hand. Dorothy did not believe intelling a lie unless it was in a good cause; but when necessary, sheinvariably made the lie a good one.
"I hope the storm didn't wake you," smiled Laura, holding Dorothy'shand.
Dorothy did not reply at once. Two long fingers were lightly pressingher wrist, and she saw that Mrs. Lawson's eyes had strayed to thegrandfather's clock in the corner of the room. "Test number one," shesaid to herself. "Mrs. du Val, alias Lawson is counting my pulse. Well,I've got a clear conscience, perhaps I can give her a shock." She drewher hand away and answered the woman's question in her normal voice."Oh, the storm! No, I never heard it, Mrs. Lawson. If that hot lemonadehad been drugged, I couldn't have slept any sounder!"
"What makes you say that?" snapped her employer, and beneath the velvettone, Dorothy sensed the ring of steel.
She dropped her eyes, and turning toward the open hearth, held out herhands to the crackling blaze. "Oh, I don't know," she said sweetly andlike the clever little strategist that she was, opened her own offensivein the enemy's territory. "I have the bad habit of occasionally walkingin my sleep, Mrs. Lawson--and especially when I spend the night in astrange bed. Perhaps it's nervousness--I don't know."
Mrs. Lawson threw her a sharp glance. "Sit down, Janet," she suggested,pointing to a chair near the fire, and taking one herself across thehearth. "You're--I mean, you don't seem to be at all nervous thismorning."
"Good old pulse!" thought Dorothy. Then aloud--"No, I feel splendidly,thank you. But, you see, I didn't walk in my sleep last night."
"But surely you can't tell when you do it!"
"Oh, yes, I can." Dorothy's manner and tone were those of the simpleschoolgirl proud of an unusual accomplishment.
"You don't expect me to believe that you know what you're doing when youwalk in your sleep, Janet. That's impossible!"
"Not while I'm sleepwalking, Mrs. Lawson. That wasn't what I said--butwhen I have been sleepwalking--there's a difference, you see?"
"Well?" The lady of the house objected to being contradicted and took notrouble to hide it.
"It's really very simple," explained Dorothy, painstakingly, as thoughshe were speaking to a rather stupid child. "I found out how to do it.You see, I've been walking in my sleep ever since I was a little thing.When I get in bed at night I leave my slippers on the floor beside itpointed outward--away from the bed. We all leave them that way, I guess.It's the natural thing to do."
"But what have slippers got to do with it?" Laura was becomingimpatient.
"Everything, so far as I'm concerned, Mrs. Lawson. When I've beenwalking at night, I always find them in the morning beside the bed, butpointing _toward_ it. I evidently slip them off before I get back intobed, and--"
"I'm beginning to think you are quite a clever girl, Janet."
"Oh, thank you," said Dorothy with a guilelessness that was sheercamouflage. "Has anybody been saying I'm stupid? I've always stood highin my classes at school."
"Oh, not stupid, child--but nervous--perhaps a little unbalanced,especially this past week."
Dorothy raised her heavy lashes and looked Mrs. Lawson squarely in theface. This might be a test she was undergoing and it probably was; buthere was a heaven sent chance to stir up discord in the enemy's camp.She must work up to it gradually.
"I know that I was nervous and upset past all endurance." She leanedforward, her hands on the arms of the chair. "How would you like yourfather to lock you in your bedroom for a week, without ever coming tosee you, or giving you any explanation for such outrageous treatment? AmI a child to be handled like that? To be shipped up here to strangers,whether I wanted to go or not? How would you feel about it, Mrs. Lawson,if you were me? Don't say you would submit to it sitting down."
"But I am taking you on as my secretary," the lady hedged. "Offering youa good position for which you'll be paid twenty dollars a week. That'snot to be thought of lightly, especially in these times."
"But it doesn't seem to strike you that I might like to have somethingto say about it," Dorothy replied calmly. "As for the salary--that's noinducement. My mother left me five thousand a year. I came into theincome on my last birthday, so you see I have nearly a hundred dollars aweek, whether I work or not."
"I didn't know that, of course," Mrs. Lawson admitted and none toograciously. "Your father wants you to be here while he's away. I hopeyou aren't going to be difficult, Janet."
"I hope not, Mrs. Lawson. I shall be glad to stay here for a while anddo the work you'd planned for me; but if I do, it must be as a guest andnot as a paid dependant."
"But you are a guest, Janet."
"I shall not accept a salary, Mrs. Lawson."
"Very well, my dear, if you wish it that way."
"Thank you very much."
"To get back to our former topic," Mrs. Lawson said, and lit acigarette. "I can understand that your father's conduct in confining youto your room might be exasperating--but why should it make you nervous?And my husband tells me that when he visited you in your room you actedas though you were in deadly fear of something or somebody every time hesaw you. What was the trouble, Janet? Was anything worrying you?"
"Yes, there was, Mrs. Lawson."
Dorothy looked down at the andirons, and her hands on the chair armstwisted embarrassedly. From the corner of her eye she saw a smile ofsatisfaction light up the older woman's face. She knew she was playingwith fire and that Mrs. Lawson was watching her as a hawk watches itsdefenseless prey before it strikes. But all unknown to her inquisitor,Dorothy had been leading her into this trap as a move forward in her owngame. Genuine dislike for the woman as well as a mischievous impulse onher part drew her to make the scene as dramatic and convincing aspossible.
"Yes--I--I--was afraid," she went on, dragging out the words slowly.
"Then don't you think you'd better tell me about it, Janet? I'm nearlyold enough to be your mother. Let me take your mother's place, dear.Give me your confidence. I feel sure I'll be able to help you, child."
This reference to Janet's dead mother by a woman who was the vilest kindof a hypocrite swept away Dorothy's last compunction. She herself wasgoing to commit justifiable libel. Mrs. Lawson, on the other hand, wasattempting to lead Janet Jordan into a confession of shamming sleep atthe fateful meeting a week ago. And such a confession meant a sentenceof death from this beautiful siren who gazed at her so winningly, whopuffed a cigarette so nonchalantly while she waited for an unsuspectinggirl to commit herself.
"Well, I don't know--I can't help hesitating to tell _you_, Mrs.Lawson," Dorothy began timidly.
"There's no need to be afraid of anything," replied the woman, only halfveiling the sneer that went with the words.
"Oh, but you see, there is, Mrs. Lawson!" Dorothy's manner was stillindecisive. "I don't want--in fact, I hate awfully to hurt you thisway."
"Hurt me!" Mrs. Lawson's cigarette snapped into the fireplace like aminiature comet. "Hurt me, child? What in the wide world are you talkingabout?"
"Just what I sa
y, Mrs. Lawson."
Mrs. Lawson sniffed. "Don't be ridiculous, Janet. Out with it now. Whatdid you fear when you were locked in your room?"
"Your husband, Mrs. Lawson."
"My husband!"
"Yes."
"But--why--I don't believe you."
"Oh, very well. You asked the question, I was trying to answer it,that's all."
Mrs. Lawson bit her lip. She was furious. "As long as you've said whatyou have, you'd better go on with it," she said acidly.
"There isn't any more," returned Dorothy. "That's all there is."
"But surely he must have given you reasons for your assertion." Mrs.Lawson had walked beautifully into Dorothy's trap. Her own plan to snarean unsuspecting girl had been blotted out by the shadow of the GreenGoddess, Jealousy. "Tell me what my husband did or said to make you fearhim, and tell me at once."
"It wasn't what he did, Mrs. Lawson--it was the way he looked."
"What do you mean--the way he looked?"
Dorothy had thrust a painful knife into the mental cosmos of heradversary. Now she deliberately turned it in the wound. "Very probably,"she said quietly, looking her straight in the eyes, "you can rememberhow Mr. Lawson looked when he first made love to you. I don't want to bemade love to, and I don't like _him_, Mrs. Lawson."
"What did you do?"
"I told him to leave me--and when he would not go, I simply walked intomy bathroom and locked the door."
"But what happened the next time he came? Martin went in to see youevery day, didn't he?"
"He did. But he talked to me through the bathroom door. Just as soon asI heard the key turn in the lock I'd hop in there."
The man she had been talking about must have been listening just outsidein the hall, for now he strode into the room and up to Dorothy. "That,"he said menacingly, "is a deliberate lie, Miss Janet Jordan!"