Find the Woman

  XXIII

  Up in her room, alternating between moments of almost hystericaldefiance when she would stare through the window-panes at Spofford, andmoments when she would hurl herself upon the narrow bed, she waited forRandall's return.

  Somewhere she had read, or heard, that murder was not a bailableoffense. That meant that she would be detained in prison, awaitingtrial. With a curious detachment, she studied herself. As though shewere some formless spirit, remote, yet infinitely near, she looked atClancy Deane. How silly it all was--how futile! Billions of humans hadconspired together, had laid down for themselves millions of queerrules, transgression of which was so simple a matter that she wonderedthat any one avoided it.

  For a moment she had that odd clairvoyance that comes to persons who, bysome quirk of fate, are compelled to think for themselves. She mightescape from the present net, but what nets would the demon set for herin the years to come? Would she avoid them all? A horror of the future,a future in which she saw herself eternally attempting extrication fromthe inextricable, loomed before her.

  And then that queer, blurry clairvoyance left her. She came back to thepresent. Mrs. Gerand, knocking at her door, announced that two gentlemenwished to see her. She ran to the window. Spofford was still there.

  Down-stairs she ran. Mrs. Gerand had not told her that three personswere calling. And it was the third to whom Clancy ran, upon whosecapacious bosom she let loose a flood of tears.

  Mrs. Walbrough patted her head, drew her close to her, kissed her; withher own handkerchief wiped Clancy's eyes, from her own little vanitycase offered Clancy those replenishments of the toilet without which themodern woman is more helpless than a man lost in the jungle without foodor arms.

  The judge noisily cleared his throat. Though he ever afterward disputedMrs. Walbrough's testimony, it is nevertheless the fact that he used hisown handkerchief upon his eyes. As for Randall, Clancy, lifting her headfrom Mrs. Walbrough's breast, was subtly aware that his reddened facebore an expression that was not merely embarrassment. He appeared onceagain uneasy. It almost seemed to her that he avoided her eyes.

  Judge Walbrough cleared his throat a second time.

  "Mr. Randall has told us a lot, Miss Deane. Suppose you tell us thewhole story."

  It was easy to talk to Walbrough. He possessed the art of asking thequestion that illuminated the speaker's mind, made him, or her, seeclearly things that had seemed of little relevance. Not until she hadfinished did Clancy wonder if she had dropped in the Walbrough regard,if she had lost a patronage, a friendship that, in so brief a time, hadcome to mean so much.

  "What must you think of me?" she cried, as Walbrough tapped his cheekwith his fingers.

  The judge smiled.

  "I think that you've been a sensible young woman."

  Clancy gasped. Her eyes widened with amazement.

  "Why, I was sure that you'd blame me----"

  "What for?" demanded the judge.

  "For running away--hiding--everything," said Clancy.

  The judge's voice was grim.

  "If you'd voluntarily surrendered yourself to the indignities of arrest,I'd have thought you an idiot."

  "But won't the fact that she remained in hiding go against her, JudgeWalbrough?" asked Randall.

  Walbrough surveyed the younger man frowningly.

  "'Go against her?' Where? You certainly don't imagine that any jurywould _convict_ Miss Deane?"

  "Of course not," stammered Randall.

  "And public opinion will certainly not condemn an innocent girl fortrying to avoid scandal, will it?" insisted the judge.

  "No," admitted Randall.

  "Then Miss Deane did the proper thing. Of course, the police will try tomake it seem that flight was the admission of guilt, but we won't worryabout them."

  Clancy seized his hand.

  "Do you mean that I won't be arrested?" she cried.

  "Exactly what I mean," said the judge. Yet, had Clancy been in a calmerframe of mind, she would have observed that the judge's kindly smile wasof the lips, not of the eyes. She was not old enough in the world'sexperiences to realize that a good lawyer is like a good doctor--hecheers up his client. But, for that matter, it took not merely an olderperson to know always what lay behind Judge Walbrough's smile; it tookan extremely keen analyst of human nature. Even his wife, who knew himquite as well as any wife knows a husband, was deceived by hisconfidence. Her hug was more reassuring to Clancy than even the judge'swords.

  "Bring that man in," the judge said to Randall, who went out to thestreet to tell Spofford that Judge Walbrough wished to see him.

  The judge walked up and down the room while Randall was gone. Clancy,watching him, was content to ask no questions, to beg for no morereassurances. She felt as might a little child toward a parent. Nor didher faith in him lessen as Randall, accompanied by Spofford, returned.The judge ceased his pacing up and down the floor. He held the detectivewith an eye from which all kindliness had vanished.

  "You know who I am?" he demanded.

  Spofford jerked a thumb at Randall.

  "This man told me that Judge Walbrough wanted to see me."

  "I'm Walbrough," said the judge. "I want to know why you're annoyingthis young lady?"

  "Me?" Spofford's mean eyes widened. His surprise was overdone. "Annoyin'her?"

  "We want to know why you are watching her."

  Spofford's eyes were cunning.

  "Ask her," he said.

  Judge Walbrough drew closer to the man.

  "Spofford, you know, of course, that I am no longer on the bench. Youalso, I presume, know how long you will remain on the force if I wantyou put off."

  Spofford thrust out his lower lip.

  "And I guess you know, too, that there's somethin' comin' to the manwho interferes with an officer in the performance of his duty. I don'tcare who you are. Threaten me, and see what you get."

  The judge laughed.

  "A fine spirit, Spofford! Thoroughly admirable! Only, my man, I'll notstop at putting you off the force. I'll run you out of town." His voicesuddenly rose. "Answer me, or I'll knock you down."

  The truculence of Spofford was always assumed. He knew, as did every NewYorker, that, ex-judge though he might be, the power of Walbrough was noinconsiderable thing.

  "Aw, there's no need gettin' huffy about it. I'll tell you, if the younglady won't. She murdered Morris Beiner."

  The judge's laugh was exquisitely rendered. He didn't guffaw; he merelychuckled. It was a marvelous bit of acting. Clancy, her heart beatingand throat choky with fear, was nevertheless sufficient mistress ofherself to be able to appreciate it. For the chuckle held mirth; it alsoheld appreciation of the seriousness of the charge. Before it, theassumption of truculence on Spofford's features faded. He lookedabashed, frightened. To have offended Judge Walbrough without anyevidence was to have invited trouble. Spofford was not the sort thatissues such invitations. He suddenly grew desperate.

  "That's all right with me. Laugh if you want to. But I tell you we beenlookin' for a dame that was in Beiner's office just before he waskilled. And the elevator-boy at the Heberworth Building just took aslant at this dame and identified her as a woman he let off on thefourth floor round five o'clock on last Tuesday afternoon. And thiswoman was in Mr. Vandervent's office yesterday, and she sent in thename of Florine Ladue--the woman we been lookin' for, and----"

  "Miss Deane has explained that. Wasn't Mr. Vandervent satisfied with herexplanation?" demanded the judge.

  "He was; but he ain't me!" cried Spofford. "I don't fall for them easyexplanations. And, say--how did Miss Deane happen to guess what I washangin' around for? If you know that she _explained_ things to Mr.Vandervent, why'd you ask me why I was watchin'?"

  Judge Walbrough chuckled again.

  "Stupid people always think in grooves, don't they, Spofford? Don't yousuppose that Miss Deane might have told me an amusing practical jokethat she had played upon Mr. Vandervent?"

  "Yes; she might have," sneered Sp
offord. "It was funny, at that. Sofunny that she fainted when she played it. Perhaps that was part of thejoke, though."

  Judge Walbrough now became the alert lawyer.

  "Spofford, does Mr. Vandervent know of this--er--independentinvestigation of yours?" he asked.

  The detective shook his head.

  "He'll know in the mornin', though. And if he won't listen, there'sothers that will."

  "Certainly," said the judge. "If you have something to say. But, beforeyou say it, you'd like to be quite certain of your facts, wouldn't you?"

  Spofford nodded; his forehead wrinkled. Himself cunning, he was the sortthat always is trying to figure out what lies behind another'sstatement. And that sort always thinks that it will do somethingcunning. He wasn't so far wrong in this particular instance.

  "And, as I understand it, you make the charge of murder against MissDeane because she played a joke upon Mr. Vandervent, and because anelevator-man claims to recognize her. His recognition doesn't justify anaccusation of murder, you know."

  "No; but it'll entitle her to a chance to do some more explainin'."

  "Perhaps," said the judge. "Where is this elevator-man now?"

  "He's where I can get hold of him," said Spofford.

  "Excellent!" said the judge. "Because the police will want himto-morrow. And not for the reason that you imagine, Spofford. They'llwant him for criminal slander and, possibly, if he sticks to the absurdstory that he told, you, for perjury, also. At the time when thiselevator-man claims to have seen Miss Deane in the Heberworth Building,she was having tea with me and my wife at our home."

  It was a magnificent lie. But even as it was uttered, Clancy wondered atthe judge. Why? He surely wouldn't, for a mere acquaintance, commitperjury. And if he would, surely his wife could not be expected to joinhim in the crime.

  But its effect upon Spofford was remarkable. His lower lip lost itsartificially pugnacious expression. It sunk in as though his lower teethhad been suddenly removed. It never occurred to him--not then, at anyrate--to doubt the judge's statement. And if it had, his doubts wouldhave been dissipated by Mrs. Walbrough's immediate corroboration.

  "Tuesday afternoon, yes. I think, Tom, that Miss Deane didn't leaveuntil a quarter after six."

  Clancy's eyes dropped to the floor. Terrific had been the accusation,menacing had been the threat; and now both seemed to vanish, as thoughthey had never been. For Spofford tried a grin. It was feeble, but ithad the correct intention behind it.

  "'Scuse me, lady--Miss Deane. I been locked out, and all the timethinkin' I had the key in my pocket. Well, I guess I'll be moseyin'along, ladies and gents. No hard feelin's, I hope. A guy sees his dooty,and he likes to do it, y' know. I'll sure wear out a knuckle or two onthis elevator-man." He waited a moment. He had made grave charges.Walbrough was a power; he wanted to read his fate if he could. He feltassured, for Walbrough smiled and inclined his head. Sheepishly heshuffled from the room.

  There was silence until the outer door had crashed behind him. Then thejudge leaped into activity.

  "The Heberworth Building. Part of the Vandervent estate, isn't it,Randall?"

  Randall shook his head. He was a clever business man, doubtless, thoughtClancy, but his mind seemed not nearly so quick as the judge's.

  "I don't know," he answered.

  "Well, I do," said the judge. "It's a shame; it's tough on Phil to makehim suborn perjury, but I don't see any other way out of it. Where's thetelephone, Miss Deane?"

  "It's out of order," Clancy gasped.

  The judge frowned.

  "Well, it doesn't matter. Half an hour from now will do as well asearlier, I guess. Run up-stairs and pack your things." He turned to hiswife. "Better help her," he suggested.

  "'Pack?'" gasped Clancy.

  "Of course. You're coming home with us. That chap Spofford is not an_absolute_ fool, even if he is a plain-clothes man. By the time he'sthought over two or three little things, he'll be back again. And hemight get somebody to swear out a warrant. Might even take a chance andarrest without it. But if you're in my house, there'll be lots ofhesitation about warrants and things like that until there's been moreevidence brought forward. And there won't be. Hurry along, young lady."

  Clancy stared at him.

  "Do you know," she said slowly, "I want to cry."

  "Certainly you do. Perfectly correct. Cry away, my dear!"

  Clancy suddenly grinned.

  "I want to laugh even more," she said. "Judge Walbrough, you're thedearest, kindest-- I can't let you do it."

  "Do what?" demanded the judge.

  "Why, tell lies for me. They'll jail you, and----"

  Judge Walbrough winked broadly at Randall.

  "I guess that wouldn't bother you, would it, Mr. Randall? Jail for agirl like Miss Deane? Then I think an old-timer like myself has a rightto do something that a young man would be wild to do--even if he has ajealous wife who hates every woman who looks at him."

  It was heavy, as most of Walbrough's humor was apt to be, Clancycouldn't be sure that it was even in good taste. But it cleared theatmosphere of tears. Her laugh that followed the threat of weeping hadbeen a bit hysterical. Now, as she went up-stairs with Mrs. Walbrough,it was normal. She could climb up as quickly as she could descend.