CHAPTER XIII
MR. AND MRS. ATKINS AT HOME
An urgent case necessitated my leaving Beverley at such an early hourthat the city was still half asleep when I reached it. After drivingfrom florist to florist in search of an early riser amongst them, I atlast found one. I selected the choicest of his flowers, and ordered themto be sent to Miss Derwent by special messenger, hoping they wouldarrive in time to greet her on her awakening, and cheerfully paid theprice demanded for them.
On reaching my office I was surprised to find a note from theirrepressible Atkins. You may remember, patient reader, that I hadpromised to dine with him on the previous evening. When I found that itwould be impossible for me to do so, I sent word that I regretted thatI could not keep my engagement with him. I naturally thought that thatended the matter. Not at all! Here was an invitation even more urgentthan the last--an invitation for that very day, too. Unless I wished tobe positively rude and to hurt the feelings of these good people, I mustaccept. There was no way out of it. So I scribbled a few lines to thateffect.
I confess that when I rang the Atkins's bell that evening I did so withconsiderable trepidation, for I was not at all sure how the lady wouldreceive me. You see I had not forgotten the way she flounced out of theroom the last and only time I had seen her. And yet I had been quiteblameless on that occasion. It was the Coroner's questions which hadannoyed her, not mine. However, I was considerably reassured as to myreception by receiving a smiling welcome from the same pretty maidI had seen the week before. It is a queer fact that we unconsciouslymeasure the amount of regard people have for us by the manners of theirservants. That this theory is quite fallacious, I know; but I found itvery useful on this occasion, for it gave me the necessary courage toenter the drawing-room with smiling composure.
The room was almost dark, and, coming from the brilliantly-lighted hall,it was some seconds before I could distinguish from its surroundingsthe small figure of my hostess, silhouetted against the crimson sky.Her shimmering black gown and fluffy hair caught and reflected herred background in such a way that for a moment I fancied I saw hersurrounded and bespattered with blood. The effect was so uncanny thatit quite startled me, but as she moved forward the illusion vanished,and I was soon shaking a soft, warm hand, which was quite reassuring.
"I just hope you don't mind the dark," she exclaimed, leading me to achair and sinking into one herself, "but somehow the light has hurt myeyes lately, and so I don't turn it on till it is so dark that I tumbleall over the furniture. Mr. Atkins says I'm crazy and ought to buy apair of blue goggles, and so I would, only they're so unbecoming."
"On the contrary," I assured her, as I let myself cautiously down intoone of those uncomfortable gilt abominations known to the trade as aLouis XVI. armchair, "I think this dim light just the thing for a chat;I always become quite confidential if I am caught between daylight anddark. The day reveals too much; it offers no veil for one's blushes. Thedarkness, on the other hand, having no visible limits, robs one of thatsense of seclusion which alone provokes confidences. But the twilight,the tactful twilight, is so discreet that it lures one on to open one'sheart. Luckily, no designing person has yet found out how weak I am atthis hour, or else I should have no secrets left."
"Oh, go along," she giggled; "I guess you're not the kind to say morethan you mean to."
"I assure you I am--" but here I was interrupted by my host, who calledout from the threshold:
"Hello, sitting in the dark? This is really too absurd, Lulu."
A flood of light followed these words and revealed young Atkins'sstalwart figure, irreproachably clad in evening dress.
"Well, I _am_ glad to see you, Doctor," he cried, as he wrung my handvigorously. "Dinner's ready, too, and I hope you're ready for it."
The folding doors leading into the next room slid back and disclosed aprettily appointed table, profusely decorated with flowers and silver.Soon after we had settled into our chairs, I seized a moment when Iwas unobserved to steal a look at Mrs. Atkins. She was certainly palerand thinner than when I had seen her last, but the change instead ofdetracting from her looks only added to her charm. Dark violet linesencircled her blue eyes and lent them a wistful, pathetic expressionthat greatly enhanced their beauty. Otherwise, I thought her lesschanged than her husband had led me to suspect and I could detect noneof that extreme nervousness of which he had spoken; only when she turnedtowards him did her manner appear at all strained, and even this was soslight as to be hardly noticeable. In fact, of the two, it was he whoseemed ill at ease, and I noticed that he kept watching her anxiously. Isaw that she was conscious of his constant scrutiny and that at timesshe became quite restless under his prolonged gaze; then, tossing herhead defiantly, as if determined to cast off the spell of his eyes, shewould talk and laugh with renewed animation.
The dinner was delicious and well served; my hostess extremely pretty;my host almost overpoweringly cordial, and the conversation agreeable,if not highly intellectual. We had reached the fruit stage, and I wasleaning contentedly back in my chair, congratulating myself on my goodluck in having happened on such a pleasant evening, when Mrs. Atkinsexclaimed:
"I say, Doctor, you haven't told us a thing about your thrillingadventure. What a blessing the madman didn't succeed in killing you. Dotell us all about it."
After her husband's warning me that the bare mention of the tragedyexcited her I had naturally taken great pains to avoid all reference tothe subject. I was, consequently, a good deal surprised to hear herbroach it with such apparent calmness.
I glanced inquiringly at Atkins.
"Yes, do," he urged, still looking at his wife.
"I'm afraid there isn't much more to tell," I hesitatingly replied; "Igave the newspapers a pretty straight account of the whole affair."
"Oh, but you were much too modest," she cried; "a little bird has toldus that you are a great detective, and suspected Argot from the first.Say, how did you manage to hit on him? We want all the details, youknow."
It was her flattery, I am afraid, which loosened my tongue and made meforget my former caution.
"Well, it was mostly luck," I assured her, and then proceeded to give along account of the whole affair.
"And now," I said, warming to my topic under their evident interest,"I wonder if either of you, when you read over the description of themurdered man, or when you saw him, for the matter of that, noticedanything peculiar about him? I confess that it escaped me and myattention had to be called to it by Mr. Merritt."
"Something peculiar," she repeated. "What kind of a peculiarity do youmean?"
"Well, the lack of an important article of apparel," I replied.
"No; I didn't notice anything out of the way," she answered, afterconsidering the question for some minutes.
I turned towards her husband. He was leaning forward, so deeply absorbedin watching his wife as to be entirely unconscious of my presence, andon his ingenious countenance I was shocked to observe suspicion and lovestruggling for mastery. Struck by his silence, she, too, looked at him,and as her eyes encountered his I saw a look of fear creep into them,and the faint color fade from her cheeks. When he saw how his behaviourhad affected her, he tried to pull himself together, and passed his handswiftly over his face as if anxious to obliterate whatever might bewritten there.
"Well, what is this missing link?" he asked, with obviously enforcedgaiety. He looked squarely at me, and, as he did so, I became convincedthat he already knew the answer to that question. For a moment we staredat each other in silence. Were my looks tell-tale, I wondered, and couldhe see that I had discovered his secret?
"Say," broke in Mrs. Atkins, "don't go to sleep. What was this missingthing?"
I would have given anything not to have had to answer.
"No hat was found with the body," I said. Atkins, I noticed, was againlooking fixedly at his wife, who had grown deathly white, and satstaring at him, as if hypnotised. Both had, apparently, forgotten me,but yet I felt deeply embarrassed at bein
g present, and dropped my eyesto my plate so as to give them a chance to regain their composureunobserved.
"Has the hat been found?" I heard her inquire, and her high sopranovoice had again that peculiar grating quality I had noticed during herinterview with the Coroner.
"Yes," I answered, "it was found in Argot's possession. He actually woreit, and laid it down under my nose. Insanity can go no further."
"But how did you know it was the missing hat?" demanded Atkins, withouttaking his eyes off his wife.
What could I answer? I was appalled at the dilemma into which my vanityand stupidity had led me.
"I suspected it was the hat which was wanted," I blundered on, "becauseMr. Merritt had told me he was looking for an ordinary white strawcontaining the name of a Chicago hatter. Argot's hat answered to thisdescription, and, as the Frenchman had never been West, I concluded thathe had not got it by fair means."
"So the dead man hailed from Chicago, did he?" inquired Atkins.
"The detective thinks so," I answered.
"Have the police discovered his name yet?"
"I--I am not sure!"
"You are discreet, I see."
"Indeed, no," I assured him. "The last time I saw Mr. Merritt he wasstill in doubt as to the man's real name."
"He only knew that the initials were A. B.," said Atkins, quickly.
I glanced, rapidly, from the husband to the wife. They sat, facing eachother, unflinchingly, like two antagonists of mettle, their faces drawnand set. But the strain proved too much for the woman, and, in anothermoment, she would have fallen to the floor if I had not managed to catchher. Instead of assisting me, her husband sat quite still, wiping greatbeads of perspiration from his forehead.
"Come here," I said, "and help me to carry your wife to the window."
He got up, as if dazed, and came slowly toward me, and, together, wecarried her to a lounge in the drawing-room.
"Look here, you told me yourself that all mention of the murder madeyour wife extremely nervous, and yet you distinctly encouraged us totalk about it this evening. Do you think that right?"
He stared at me with unseeing eyes, and appeared not to understand whatI was saying.
"I had to find out the truth," he muttered.
"Look here, man," I cried, shaking him by the arm, "pull yourselftogether. Don't let your wife see that expression on your face when shecomes to. This is not a simple faint; your wife's heart is affected, andif you excite her still further you may kill her."
That roused him, and he now joined to the best of his ability in myendeavors to restore her. She soon opened her eyes, and glanced timidlyat her husband. He managed to smile affectionately at her, which seemedto reassure her.
"How stupid of me to faint!" she exclaimed, "but it was so very hot."
"Yes, the heat is dreadful; you really should not overtax yourselfduring this weather," said her husband, gently, laying his hand on hers.She beamed at him, while a lovely pink overspread her pale face.
"As a doctor, may I urge Mrs. Atkins to go to bed immediately?" I said.
"Oh, no, no," she cried petulantly; "I'm all right." But as she tried tostand up she staggered helplessly.
"I insist on your going to bed, Lulu; I shall carry you up-stairs atonce." And the big man picked her up without more ado. She smiled at meover his shoulder, dimpling like a pleased child.
"You see, Doctor, what a tyrant he is," she cried, waving her small handas she disappeared.
When Atkins returned, I rose to say good night, but he motioned me toreturn to my seat, and handing me a box of cigars, insisted on my takingone. Then, dragging a chair forward, he sat down facing me. We puffedaway for several minutes, in silence. I was sure, from his manner, thathe was trying to get up his courage to tell me something.
"You said just now that Mrs. Atkins has something the matter with herheart?"
"I'm afraid so; but I do not fancy it is anything very serious, and ifit is taken in time, and she leads a quiet, happy life, there is noreason that she should not recover completely."
He got up and paced the room.
"I love her," he murmured.
I watched him with increasing perplexity.
"Well, if that is so, treat her differently. You sit and watch herin a way that is enough to make anyone nervous, let alone a delicatewoman. Forgive my speaking so plainly, but I consider it my duty as aphysician. I am convinced that the extreme nervousness you spoke of (andwhich, by the way, I have failed to observe) is not to be attributed tothe murder at all, but to your behaviour. I don't think you have anyidea how strange that is."
"Oh, but my wife has not been nervous since the Frenchman was arrested.We watched him being taken away from your house, and last night sheslept quietly for the first time since the tragedy." He paused andlooked at me as if he longed to say more.
"Well, that is quite natural, I think. I can imagine nothing morealarming than to know that you are living under the same roof with anundetected criminal, who might at any time make use of his freedomto commit another murder. Till she knew who was guilty, she must havesuspected and feared everybody. Now that she knows the fellow to beunder lock and key, she can again sleep in peace."
Atkins sat down.
"Doctor, men of your calling are the same as confessors, are they not?"
"If you mean as regards the sanctity of professional communications,yes."
"Then I should like to confide a few things to you under the seal ofthat professional secrecy."
"All right; go ahead."
"Do you know that my wife is from Chicago?"
"Yes."
"I have never been there myself, and consequently know none of herfriends. You may have heard that my father was very much opposed to mymarriage. He collected a lot of cock-and-bull stories about my wife,which, needless to say, I did not believe. So the wedding took place,and, until a week ago, I can truthfully say that I have been perfectlyhappy."
"What happened then?"
"I had to go out of town for two days on business, and got back verylate on Wednesday night, having been delayed by an accident on the line.I was careful to be very quiet as I let myself in, anxious not to wakeup my wife, who, I expected, would be fast asleep at that hour. I wastherefore surprised and pleased to find the hall still ablaze withlight. So, she had sat up for me after all, I thought. Taking off my hatI turned to hang it on the rack when I noticed a strange hat among myown. I took it down and examined it. It contained the name of a Chicagohatter and the initials A. B. were stamped on the inside band. At firstI was simply puzzled, then it occurred to me that its owner must bestill on the premises. That thought roused all my latent jealousy, so,putting the hat quietly back, I stole on tiptoe to the parlor. Peepingthrough the portieres, I saw my wife lying asleep on the sofa. She wasquite alone. To whom then did the hat belong? What man had left in suchhurry or agitation as to forget so essential a thing? All the storiesmy father had told me came back to me with an overwhelming rush. Then Iblushed at my want of confidence. All I had to do, I assured myself, wasto wake up my wife and she would explain everything at once. I shouldnot need to ask a question even; she would of her own accord tell meabout her visitor. Full of these hopes I entered the room. She openedher eyes almost immediately and greeted me with even greater warmth thanusual. I responded as best I could, but my impatience to hear what shehad to say was so great as to render me insensible to everything else. Isoon led our talk round to what she had been doing during my absence.She told me in a general way, but, Doctor, she made no mention of agentleman visitor! I think I was patient. Again and again I gave herthe chance to confide in me. At last, I asked her right out if she hadhappened to see any of her Chicago friends. She hesitated a minute, thenanswered, deliberately, No! To doubt was no longer possible. She wasconcealing something from me; therefore, there was something to conceal.And yet she dared to hang around my neck and nestle close to me. It mademe sick to feel the false creature so near. I don't know what came overme. The room swam befor
e my eyes, and starting to my feet I flung herfrom me. She fell in a heap by the window and lay quite still, staringat me with speechless terror. I had had no intention of hurting her andwas horrified at my brutality. I went to her and tried to raise her up,but at my approach she shrieked aloud and shrank away from me. I wasthoroughly ashamed now and begged her to forgive my behaviour. Butfor some time she only shook her head, till at last, overcome by heremotions, she burst into hysterical sobs. This was too much for me. Iforgot everything except that I loved her, and, kneeling down, gatheredher into my arms. She no longer resisted me, but like a tired child letme do with her what I would. I carried her upstairs and soon had thesatisfaction of seeing her fall asleep. From that day to this neitherof us has ever referred to this occurrence! I didn't, because--well,my motives were very mixed. In the first place, I couldn't apologizefor my behaviour without telling her the reason first, and that I wasunwilling to do unasked. I was ashamed of my suspicions, and wantedthe explanation to be offered by her and not solicited by me. And then,underlying everything, was an unacknowledged dread of what I mightdiscover, and terror that I might again forget myself. But what were herreasons for never asking for the meaning of my conduct? Why did she notmake me sue on my knees for pardon? She has always made a great fusswhenever I have offended her before; why did she pass over this outragein silence? Did she fear what questions I might ask? Did she suspect thecause of my anger? That night, before going to bed, I took that accursedhat and flung it out of the dining-room window. It fell to the courtbelow, and there Argot must have picked it up."
"When did you first become convinced that that hat had belonged to themurdered man?"
"Not for several days. In fact, I have never been perfectly sure tillthis evening."
"Really?"
"Yes; you see it did not occur to me for some time that there was anyconnection between my wife's visitor and the--the victim." Here the poorfellow shuddered. "Her manner was slightly constrained, and I saw shewas depressed, but I thought that a natural result of the coolness thathad arisen between us. I soon found out, however, that although ourstrained relations might weigh on her somewhat, the chief cause of hertrouble was the murder. She hardly ever spoke of it, but I could seethat it was never out of her mind. She used to send out for all thepapers and pore over them by the hour, and was so nervous that it waspositively painful to be in the room with her. She would start andscream with or without provocation. Another peculiarity she developedwas an extreme disinclination to leaving the house. She went out onThursday afternoon, I believe, but from that day to the time of Argot'sarrest I don't think she ever left the building unless I insisted on it.And another queer thing she did, was to stand behind the curtains andpeer at your house. I would catch her doing this at all hours of the dayand night. Then I began to wonder more and more why this murder had suchan effect on her. I read and re-read all that was printed about it,and suddenly it came to me that no hat had been found with the body. Isearched the papers again feverishly. I had not been mistaken. Everyarticle of clothing was carefully enumerated, but no hat was mentioned.It was then I first suspected that the dead man and my wife's visitorwere one and the same person. It was an awful moment, Doctor."
He paused a while to control his emotions. "After that I keptcontinually puzzling as to how the fellow could have come by his death.Thank God, I was quite sure my little wife had no hand in that! You sayArgot killed him; perhaps he did, though I can't imagine why or how. Assoon as Mrs. Atkins heard that the Frenchman had been arrested her wholemanner changed. Her nervousness disappeared as if by magic, and to-dayshe resumed her usual mode of life. She has even talked about the murderoccasionally. But the barrier between us has not diminished. I can notforget that she concealed that man's visit from me. I have longed, yetdreaded, to have the police discover his identity, fearing that if theydid his connection with my wife would also come out; and yet so anxiousam I to know the nature of that connection as to be willing to runalmost any risk to discover the truth. But things have come to a crisisto-night. We can no longer go on living side by side with this secretbetween us. She must tell me what there was between them. And now, whenI can bear the suspense no longer, you insist that she must not beexcited."
I felt terribly sorry for the poor fellow, and hesitated what to advise.
"Get a good doctor," I said at last, "and have Mrs. Atkins's heartexamined. Her trouble may not be as serious as I think it is, and inthat case there would be no further need of caution."
"Won't you undertake the case?"
"Have you no family physician?"
"Yes; Dr. Hartley."
"He is an excellent man, and I think it would be much less agitatingto Mrs. Atkins to be treated by her own doctor. You see it is veryimportant that she should be kept quiet. I should like to ask you onething, however: Don't you think you ought to tell the police that it wasyou who first found the hat and who threw it into the yard?"
"I don't think it the least necessary," he answered, in great alarm;"what harm can this additional suspicion do Argot? There is no doubtthat he tried to murder you, and is quite irresponsible. Why should henot be guilty of the other crime? You suspected him before you knew thatthe hat was in his possession."
"That is all very true. And the man is hopelessly insane, I hear, and,guilty or not guilty, will probably spend the rest of his life in alunatic asylum. Well, I must be off. Let me know what Dr. Hartley'sverdict is. I am especially anxious that my fears may prove groundless,because I am sure that if you and Mrs. Atkins could have a frank talkeverything would soon be satisfactorily explained."
"Do you think so?" he exclaimed, eagerly.
"I'm sure of it," and, with a hearty handshake, I left him.