Mrs. Balfame: A Novel

  CHAPTER XI

  To Dr. Anna alone Mrs. Balfame told the story of the night, although,implicit as was her trust, with certain reservations. She omitted thedetail of the poisoned lemonade, but otherwise unburdened herself withfreedom and relief.

  "Before I knew where I was," she concluded, "there was the kitchen doorclosed behind me. I can't understand why I lost my presence of mind. Icould easily have run through the back door and out the front, andreached him about the time Gifning did."

  Dr. Anna was drinking strong coffee. It was eight o'clock, and she hadgone downstairs and made breakfast for her friend and herself, Friedahaving retired to her room and bolted the door. The doctor had heard thewhole story as soon as she arrived, but after an interval of sleep hadasked for it again.

  "I think it's better as it is," she said thoughtfully. "No one couldhave seen you. The moon rose late; the night at that time must have beenpitch dark. The trees alone would have shielded you, even had any onebeen watching. Suspicion never would fall on you anyhow; you are too farabove it, and Dave had been insulting people right and left the lastyear. But you want to avoid blackmail. The only thing that disturbs meis that that girl may have been on the back stairs when you came in.I'll come in for lunch and talk to her then. You keep to your room.Rest, and sleep if you can. I don't fancy you'll have early visitors.Everybody'll sleep late. I wish I could!"

  "Will you stop in and see Dr. Lequeur about yourself--"

  "If I can find a minute. Don't worry about me. I'm tough, and the Lordknows I ought to be immune."

  But she found no time to see a doctor in her own behalf and returned tothe Balfame house between twelve and one. Reporters were sitting on thebox hedge and on the doorstep. She evaded them good-naturedly, but itwas some time before she was admitted by the rebellious Frieda, who hadbeen summoned to the front door some sixteen times during the forenoon.

  When Dr. Anna finally found herself in the dark hall she saw thatFrieda's face was swollen and tied up in a towel. The spectacle gave thedoctor an instant opportunity.

  "The worst infliction on earth, bar none!" she announced, following themaid into the kitchen. "Let me take a look at it? How long have you hadit?"

  "Two days," replied Frieda sullenly, unamenable to sympathy whichoffered no immediate surcease of pain.

  "Abscess?"

  "Don't know."

  Frieda's mental processes were slow. Before she could follow thedoctor's the bandage was ripped off and a sharp eye was examining theinflamed interior of her cavernous mouth. A moment later Dr. Anna hadopened her doctor's bag and was anointing the surroundings of thetortured tooth with a brown liquid.

  "That won't cure it," she said, "but no dentist could do more until theswelling is reduced. And it will save you a preliminary bill. Keep this.As soon as you feel you can stand it, go to Dr. Meyers, Main Street.Tell him I sent you. But why didn't you tell Mrs. Balfame last night?Why endure pain? Kind mistresses always keep such alleviatives in thehouse, and Mrs. Balfame is not the sort to mind being roused in themiddle of the night if some one were suffering."

  The pain had subsided under treatment, and Frieda was restored to suchcivility as she knew. "It only got bad when I am dancing to the hall,and I ran home. I had some drops in my room."

  "Oh, I see. Did they stop the pain?"

  "Nix. Ache like before, but I lie down and perhaps can sleep if thosemen have not make me come downstairs to make the coffee. All night I amup." And she glowered with self-pity.

  "But when you found that your drops were no good, why didn't you run atonce to Mrs. Balfame? You were braver than I should have been. It wasabout eight o'clock, was it not, when Mr. Balfame was shot? Mrs. Balfamewas probably awake when you came in, even if she had gone to bed. Orperhaps you didn't know that she came home early?"

  "On Saturday nights she come home after I do. How I am to know she ishere?"

  "But you might have gone to her medicine closet--in her bathroom."

  "When you have the pain like hot iron you think of all the good thingsfor it the next day." Frieda relapsed into sullen silence; Dr. Annahastily disposed of the lunch prepared for her and went upstairs.

  Mrs. Balfame was lying on the sofa. She had not dressed, but looked astrim as usual in a blue and white bathrobe; never having been a woman to"let herself go," she did not possess a wrapper. Her long hair hung intwo loose braids, and she looked very pale and lovely.

  "Put Frieda out of your head," said Dr. Anna hurriedly; familiar voicesascended from the path below. "She heard nothing. You don't when youhave a jumping toothache."

  "Thank heaven!"

  A soft knock announced several of her friends. They were dressed formotoring; this being Sunday, not even death must interfere with thecross-country refreshment of the Elsinore husband. They kissed Mrs.Balfame and congratulated her upon her appearance and her nerves.

  "But one thing must be settled right here," announced Mrs. Gifning, "andthat is the question of your mourning. I'll go over on the eight-ten inthe morning and see to it. But you never wear ready-made things and itwould be a pity to waste money that way. Are you going to wear a veil atthe inquest?"

  "Of course I am. Do you suppose I shall submit to being stared at by acurious mob and snapshotted by reporters?"

  "That's just what I thought. I'll bring back a smart hat and a longcrepe veil with me, and order your widow's outfit from one of the bigshops; they'll have it over in time for the funeral. And you can wearyour tailor suit to the inquest; it will be half covered by the veil."

  "What a good idea!" said Mrs. Balfame gratefully. "You are too kind."

  "Kind? Nothing! I just love to shop for other people. How lucky thatyou hadn't bought your new winter suit. It might have been blue."

  "It was to have been blue." There was a note of regret in Mrs. Balfame'svoice. "Don't forget to buy me two black chiffon blouses. One verysimple for every day; the other, really good. And something white forthe neck. Of course I wouldn't wear it on the street; but in thehouse--black is too trying!"

  "Rather. Trust me. Have you black gloves--undressed kid, I mean? Youdon't want to look like an undertaker." Mrs. Balfame nodded. "That'sall, I think. Send me a line if you think of something else. I must runand take Giffy for his ride. He's all broken up, poor darling. Wasn't hejust splendid last night?" She blew a kiss along the widow's foreheadand ran out with a light step that caused her more substantial friendsto sigh with envy. She, too, was in the manoeuvring forties, but she hadgone into training at thirty.

  "I guess we'd all better go." Mrs. Battle, with a sudden dexterous heaveof her armoured bulk, was out of the chair and on her feet. "Now, try tosleep, dearie. You are just the bravest thing! But to-morrow will betrying. Sam Cummack says the coroner won't hold the inquest beforeafternoon, but if they do and your veil isn't here, I've got one of Ma'spacked away in camphor that I'll get out for you. I'll get it outto-night and have it airing--we won't take any chances; and you sha'n'tbe annoyed by the vulgar curious."

  "Oh, thank you! But that is not the only ordeal. It's even more tryingto stay in the house all these days--in this room! If I could walk inthe grounds. But I suppose those reporters are everywhere."

  "They are swarming, simply swarming. And the avenue is so packed withautomobiles you can't navigate. People have come from all over thecountry--some from New York and Brooklyn."

  Mrs. Balfame curled her lip with disgust. Morbid curiosity, like othervulgarities, was incomprehensible to her. Death, no matter how desiredor how accomplished, should inspire hush and respect, not provideexcitement for a Sunday afternoon.

  "Let us hope they will find the wretch to-day," she said impatiently."That will end it, for, of course, it is the element of mystery that hasmade the case so notorious. Is there no clue?"

  "Not the ghost of one." Mrs. Cummack, too, was adjusting her automobileveil. "Sam's on the job,--I'm only taking him out for an hour or two;and so, of course, are the police--hot. But he's covered his tracks sofar."

  "If it is a he,"
whispered Mrs. Battle to Mrs. Frew, as they stolesoftly down the stairs. "What about that red-head, or that telephonegirl who fainted? They say she had to go home--"

  "Can you imagine caring enough for Dave Balfame--Let's get out of this,for heaven's sake, or I'll faint right here."

  The atmosphere was as depressing as the dark interior of the house, forit was heavy laden with the scent of flowers and death. The parlourdoors, behind which lay David Balfame, embalmed and serene in hiscasket, were closed, but hushed whisperings came forth like the rustlingof funeral wreaths disturbed by the vapours of decay. The devotedfriends of the widow burst out into the sunshine almost with a cry ofrelief.

  Here all was as animated as a county fair. The grounds were void, saveby patrolling police, but the avenue and adjoining streets were packedwith every type of car from limousine to farmer's runabout, and manymore people were afoot, staring at the house, venturing as near thehedge as they dared, to inspect the grove. They asked questions,answered them, offered theories, all in a breath, and without theslightest respect for any opinion save their own. A few children,sucking peppermint sticks, sat on the hedge.

  "Did you ever?" murmured Mrs. Frew to Mrs. Battle. "_Did_ you ever?" Sheshuddered with refined disgust, but felt thrilled to her marrow. "JustEnid's luck!" was her auxiliary but silent reflection.