Persons Unknown
CHAPTER I
THE HOSTESS PREPARING
Herrick lay in the long grass of the wooded lot, against the wall of theHoover place. Already the night was velvet-black, and hot andthunder-scented as in summer. A million vibrations that were scarcelysound stirred with the myriad lives of leaf and blade in the densesilence. And his expectancy vibrated too, reaching for the end of a longchase. His slower train had followed on the very heels of that malignand radiant red-haired changeling, whose mysterious brew he was at lastto taste for himself. Not this time in a little yellow cottage beside anopen road, but in that great house, walled and guarded, deep and stillin its own woodland, between the stone lions with their lifted wings andthe mighty current of the tidal river! What he should do when he gotthere could be decided only by what he found. He had his revolver, andhe scarcely knew whether to pray that he might, or that he might not,have need for it.
He remembered, tumbling over the wall from the inside, cascades of ivy,which he now hoped might give him a hand up the rough stone. But theytore away, one after the other, and sagged in his hold. He went on downthe field, scouting in the darkness for some friendly tree; when hefound one at last it was not so near the wall as he could have desired,and the first branch that seemed likely to bear him for any distance hejudged to be about twenty feet above the ground. He crawled along thistill its circumference seemed so slight he dared not trust another inchand peered into the pit. There was no way to make sure that the wallwas there but to let go; he lowered himself the whole six feet of hislength; let go; landed on the coping; by a miracle of balance maintainedhis equilibrium; and then, dropping cautiously to his knees, flattenedhimself along the edge. When you have dropped on to a wall which mightor might not be there, it is nothing at all to drop on to the earth,which can not escape. He stood up, at last, within the Hoover grounds.
All was perfectly silent; the noise of his descent, which had seemed tocrash like an earthquake, in reality had not waked a bird. He had now tomake his way to the house through about a mile of perfect blackness; asa good beginning, he ran into a tree, and this rebuke of nature's seemedto put him in his place, and tell him to walk here like a spy, not likea combatant. He went on, but now with infinite caution.
This part of the ground was as little tended as a wild wood; thenpresently he came forth upon an old-fashioned garden, run wild, butstill sending out sweet smells beneath his trampling feet; beds of whitegillyflowers and fever-few and white banks of that odorous star-shapedbloom which opens to the night made a kind of paleness in the dark whichperhaps he rather breathed and guessed than saw. It was an approach fora Romeo, and seemed to cast a kind of dream over his desperate and grimybusiness. He sped on to another little grove upon a rise of ground andcoming to the top of the slope saw, far ahead of him through the trees,the shining of bright lights.
He could scarcely believe his eyes, for surely they would never dare tolight the house. And then again he remembered how far and lonely thathouse stood, a mile and a half in from the road, and save through thelodge or from the river how hard to come at! If this was really theirhaunt it must have been so a long time; they must have grown used toit, like their own house. All the more chance, then, for his spying!Expectancy sprang higher. He kept on down the slope, this time atsomething of a reckless pace, and, at the bottom, plumped full into apond.
The shock was horrid and without even the dignity of danger. He couldeasily have scrambled back but that, as he re-opened his eyes, he foundhimself gazing at a lantern, held up from across the pond. At thatmoment three shots flew past him, aimed at the bank he had soinvoluntarily and violently quitted. It seemed well to remaininconspicuous as might be; the bullets began to skip close to him, and,experimentally sinking, he found a fair depth and struck out under waterfor the opposite shore.
In the middle of the pond his hands touched a solid and terrifyingobstruction. Heavens, what was this? Through what snares did he clumsilystruggle to make his way? And in what nightmare? Involuntarily he cameto the surface and found himself confronted by a high, overhangingshape, bulking featureless in the darkness and chilling him with a sortof superstitious despair. The more so that he seemed to be graspingsomething shaped like a foot; his hand climbed a vast, cold leg and thenext moment he could have laughed aloud. He remembered, now, from hisdaylight forays, an ornamental wilderness of rocks and ferns, acrosswhich he had once glimpsed a stone lady; seated, and bending forwardwith a vase extended in her hand. The pond had been hidden by thatwilderness; the vase had once been a playing fountain, and the ladyherself sat on a rock in the middle of the waters. It was against thisrock his hand had struck and it was her ankles which he thus ungallantlygrasped. He hung to them a moment, resting in her shadow, and then withinfinite precautions began to pull himself up those smooth, cold knees.She was very large and dense, a bulwark between him and the spittingbullets; he felt her rocky island beneath his feet, and gave himself,even with ardor, to her embraces.
The light upon the shore split in two and one-half of it began to skirtthe pond at a brisk pace. He clambered across the stone lady's lap andcrouched, kneeling, in the shadow of her arm. Thus sheltered, his firstthought was for the priming of his revolver. It was soaked through! Hecould have cried out like a child! But already his breathing space waspast.
The runner with the lantern had reached the spot where Herrick hadplunged in and the surface of the pond was now raked with rays of light,crossing each other and striking perilously near his refuge so that theysought out at once the breast and the bent back of the stone lady.Herrick, as he blotted himself down the rock, observed that on thefurther side the pond was edged by a coping of rough stones rising,perhaps, two feet above the water and irregularly surmounted by smallboulders--the beginning of the ornamental wilderness. He came up closeagainst the wall; his fingers wedging themselves in a crack between thestones, and his head, shadowed by a boulder, half above the water. Thus,as he could hear and was not likely to be seen, he had every advantageof that dangerous neighborhood. And also time for a somewhat chillreflection. Suppose the life were not knocked out of him in the nextfive minutes, what use was there in going on with a useless pistol? Itseemed even the outer grounds were being patroled or perhapssearched--he remembered the light shining from the house--it came inupon him that something unusual was going on, and that he mightpresently succeed in being either the victim or the witness of a climax.That thought was enough; his blood committed him beyond denial; and whenthe searchers, without having dropped a single significant remark, beganscouting their own fears, and, accepting the surrounding silence asempty of intruders, turned back through the artificial wilderness towardthe center of the estate, Herrick pulled himself out of the water and,sometimes on his hands and knees, sometimes upon his stomach, followedamong the rocks.
The group with the lantern came out upon the carriage-way and paused. Ahorse and two-seated wagon awaited them, the horse's head turned towardthe house; in the wagon sat Herrick's old friend, Mrs. Pascoe and thelittle old, old couple from the lodge. As the other men tumbled in theold lodge-keeper lifted up his voice: "I ain't slep' out o' the lodge,nor your ma ain't, either, in forty years!"
"Well, you'll have to to-night, pa," said Mrs. Pascoe. "An' there ain'tany time to talk about it, either." She added, "You an' ma can come backwhen we're gone. Don't ferget M'ree's your great gran'niece by marriage.Have her visit yeh again." They were off and through the shrubbery;Herrick followed.
But the carriage-way was clear of everything save errant weeds and at anordinary trot they very easily distanced him. After a while he ceased tohear the wheels, but now again he could see the house shine among thetrees, and as he came closer still he listened for the sounds of theirarrival but heard nothing.
It was extraordinary what a stillness had again fallen upon the night.No sound covered his approach, and when he came at last in view of thegreat entrance no wagon waited on the path nor did any voice challengehim from the doorway.
He stood among the trees and stare
d across the wide sweep ofcarriage-way. He saw on either side depths of lawn, kept cut and roughlytrimmed, merging at last again into the darkness. The drive was brightfrom the great glowing portico, and from the entrance doors set wideinto a stately hall; the hall was all in order as though for areception, with rugs and palms and candelabra, and to its left a vastapartment like a ballroom flung from its long open windows, that crossedthe left front of the house and shone far along the side, spaces oflamplight down the terraces. Save for one pane gleaming overhead, therest of the house stood dark, as if unoccupied. But in that still yetquivering night, in that dense, black, vast but sultry silence, thismade a great illumination, and that wing of the old mansion seemed toblaze like a palace in a wood; in the lack of sound or motion, it seemedswept, opened and made ready by enchantment, and waiting for theconqueror. It had indeed so great an air, so composed, so ordered, andof such stately openness that it seemed to rebuke suspicion; surely lawand seemliness were on its side and not that of the dark, soiled,muddied, creeping figure that skulked, staring, in the shrubbery like athief in the night; totally confounded, oppressed by every terror of thehouse-breaker and yet with empty hands. But the bright house, whichshould have threatened, invited him with every luster.
He was a fool, if you wish, but at least he knew his foolhardiness tothe core. The wagon he had followed must have passed the house and goneon toward the river, but this bright vacancy and quiet had not beenarranged for nothing. To go forward was most likely death; a death quitefutile and unremarked, and scarcely a breathing-stage in the wild storywhose blazed trail of ruin and murder he had already followed so far.Well, he had followed too far to go back. He was too near the goal; hewas too near the turning of the page, and, as far as was mortallypossible, he must read it.
The empty drive, the empty hall, the empty, shining windows drew himlike wires, and, dropping back across the border of the drive to afar-lying depth of shadow, he crossed it like a ghost; taking advantageof every unclipped shrub and moldering urn, began to mount the terraces.
Thus at last he came to the long windows, and huddling at one side,peered in. He saw a proud interior, brilliant and pale, with panels oflatticed glass, after the French fashion, and other panels frescoed withPierrots and Columbines and with great clusters of wax candles setbetween the panels. There was a great chandelier with swinging prismsreflected in the floor that was waxed like satin; but this chandelierwas not lighted, and indeed everything suggested that they had neverdared to use any electricity, for which they would have to work thepower-house on the estate. But the clustered candles and the many lampsmade the place afloat with liquid gold, and the room trembled andbloomed with the scent and the beauty of hot-house flowers, so that theair seemed to shimmer with their sweetness. There was little enoughfurniture; a golden grand piano with Cupids painted on it; a few chairsfrom which Herrick guessed the holland had but lately been removed; andnear the huge, rose-filled fireplace, a little table, gleaming withsilver and linen, with lilies and crystal and lace. It was set for two;close at hand was a serving-table with silver covers showing on it, and,for a practical and modern touch, a chafing-dish! There was no one inthe room.
But the table was hint enough. Here was the center of thesepreparations. Here two people were to meet, and Herrick thought he knewthe hostess. In the departing wagon-load, there had been no beautifultall figure with red hair. To this little private festivity Fate had ledhim through the rough magic of his scramble in the night; she pointed atthe table with a very sure finger, and now all his vague expectancy wascentered in a single question, and his first necessity was to behold theface of the red-haired woman's guest.
Now at the first glance he had taken this room for a sort of music-roomwhich had been used, too, for informal dances. And sure enough, alongone wall, just as though put there to tempt him to the final madness,ran a little gallery for the dance-music. It had a balustrade about itand within this balustrade hung short yellow brocaded curtains, in asort of valance, that seemed to Herrick strangely fresh, as though hungthere yesterday. And he determined if it should be his last move onearth to get behind those curtains.
There was no staircase to the balcony from within the room. He crept tothe hall-door; the hall opened out square as a courtyard with doorwaysand arches upon every side. At the rear the great staircase, afterperhaps a dozen steps, branched off to either hand, and on its left alittle gallery ran along the wall behind that very room and led to acurtained niche. This would be the entrance to the musicians' balcony,and there was nothing for it but that Herrick should traverse the halland mount the staircase. It was as if the house had turned to one greateye; he thanked heaven for the rugs upon the marble and for the scantyshelter of the palms; while with every step he took and every breath hedrew the house-breaker dreaded to hear another footstep in his rear orto see an assailant rise before his eyes. But all remained vacant andwas as silent as the tomb. Running up those marble steps, he came at onebound to the curtained niche, and, as he darted in between its hangings,he had a strong inclination to laugh; for, if there were any one within,it would be quaint to see whether he or they were the more startled! Butthere was no one there. He had now his private box for the comingentertainment. He dropped softly to the floor and, as he did so, someone in the room below struck a match.
It startled him like the crack of doom. He parted the little curtains ofthe valance, and beheld himself so far right that there stood thered-haired lady lighting the chafing-dish.
Herrick was not more than about nine feet above the flooring of theroom, with the main door from the hall to his right hand and thefireplace on his left, so that the little glittering table was beforehim and to the left of him but a few feet. And there the red-hairedwoman blew out the flame she had kindled, as if she had but meant totest the wick. It was Herrick's first long clear look at her and helooked hard. The resemblance to Christina lay only in a very strikingsuggestion of the tall figure, a pose, a poise, an indescribablelightness and sense of life; they had the same gracious, gallantbearing, the same proud carriage of the head, and he suddenly realizedthat he was looking at one of Christina's gowns. For the rest, she was,of course, six years the elder, and her equal slenderness was much morerichly hued and softly curved. Handsome enough, her face at onceattracted and repelled by the diverse coloring of the eyes. It was aface at once selfish and fierce and soft, with the softness of a womanwho is fashioned from head to foot in one ardent glow; a softness like apanther's. In the flame-white allure of sex she struck straight at you,as undisguised and challenging as lightning, and, to any but amonomaniac, as soon wearied of. It seemed that she could never besatisfied with her preparations. She walked about the room, touching andre-touching the flowers; over and over again she scrutinized theappointments of the table; lifted the silver covers; peered into thechafing-dish, and tested the champagne in its bucket of ice. At last shecould find nothing more to do. Through all her coming and going, she hadseemed to be mocking and triumphing to herself; humming, singing andeven whistling very low with her mouth pursed into a confident andquizzing little smile, or inclining her bright head, in victoriousscrutinies, from side to side; so that it seemed the guest must be verywelcome and, if she were bent on conquest, the conquest very sure.
She was not yet gowned for a festival, and, remembering the light in theroom above, Herrick, grim as the hour was, smiled to imagine that herewas to be played a little domestic comedy like thousands that go on inHarlem flats and tame suburban cottages; the servantless hostesssatisfied at length about her cooking and her table and flying upstairsat the last moment to dress for company. So indeed she turned to fly,but then her mood changed. She whirled round upon the vacant table, hercomedy, her mockery quite fallen from her, and given way to a blackhate. All her quick humors swarmed in her, in a threatening storm; shewas not so much like a woman as like a great, bad, lovely, furious childthat runs its tongue out in defiance. But there was a power in thisdefiance like the power in that soft panther of her grace. So that itwas a so
rt of curse her swirling movement cast upon the pretty table asshe flung one arm up and out above her head; the hand clinched, and thenthe fingers slowly spreading and stiffening in the air. Then she wentout of the room and up the stair and overhead.
Herrick, scarcely knowing what he did, rose to his knees! Just then, hethought he heard a slight noise behind him. As he turned, somethingstruck him on the head; he fell millions of miles through a black horrorstabbed with pain and forgot everything.