The Woman in the Alcove Read online

  IV. EXPLANATIONS

  My love for Anson Durand died at sight of that crimson splash or Ithought it did. In this spot of blood on the breast of him to whom I hadgiven my heart I could read but one word--guilt--heinous guilt, guiltdenied and now brought to light in language that could be seen and readby all men. Why should I stay in such a presence? Had not the inspectorhimself advised me to go?

  Yes, but another voice bade me remain. Just as I reached the door, AnsonDurand found his voice and I heard, in the full, sweet tones I loved sowell:

  "Wait I am not to be judged like this. I will explain!"

  But here the inspector interposed.

  "Do you think it wise to make any such attempt without the advice ofcounsel, Mr. Durand?"

  The indignation with which Mr. Durand wheeled toward him raised in me afaint hope.

  "Good God, yes!" he cried. "Would you have me leave Miss Van Arsdale oneminute longer than is necessary to such dreadful doubts? Rita--Miss VanArsdale--weakness, and weakness only, has brought me into my presentposition. I did not kill Mrs. Fairbrother, nor did I knowingly takeher diamond, though appearances look that way, as I am very ready toacknowledge. I did go to her in the alcove, not once, but twice, andthese are my reasons for doing so: About three months ago a certainwell-known man of enormous wealth came to me with the request that Ishould procure for him a diamond of superior beauty. He wished to giveit to his wife, and he wished it to outshine any which could now befound in New York. This meant sending abroad--an expense he was quitewilling to incur on the sole condition that the stone should notdisappoint him when he saw it, and that it was to be in his hands on theeighteenth of March, his wife's birthday. Never before had I had such anopportunity for a large stroke of business. Naturally elated, I enteredat once into correspondence with the best known dealers on the otherside, and last week a diamond was delivered to me which seemed to fillall the necessary requirements. I had never seen a finer stone, and wasconsequently rejoicing in my success, when some one, I do not rememberwho now, chanced to speak in my hearing of the wonderful stone possessedby a certain Mrs. Fairbrother--a stone so large, so brilliant and soprecious altogether that she seldom wore it, though it was known toconnoisseurs and had a great reputation at Tiffany's, where it had oncebeen sent for some alteration in the setting. Was this stone larger andfiner than the one I had procured with so much trouble? If so, my laborhad all been in vain, for my patron must have known of this diamond andwould expect to see it surpassed.

  "I was so upset by this possibility that I resolved to see the jewel andmake comparisons for myself. I found a friend who agreed to introduceme to the lady. She received me very graciously and was amiable enoughuntil the subject of diamonds was broached, when she immediatelystiffened and left me without an opportunity of proffering my request.However, on every other subject she was affable, and I found it easyenough to pursue the acquaintance till we were almost on friendly terms.But I never saw the diamond, nor would she talk about it, though Icaused her some surprise when one day I drew out before her eyes the oneI had procured for my patron and made her look at it. 'Fine,' she cried,'fine!' But I failed to detect any envy in her manner, and so knew thatI had not achieved the object set me by my wealthy customer. This was awoeful disappointment; yet, as Mrs. Fairbrother never wore her diamond,it was among the possibilities that he might be satisfied with the veryfine gem I had obtained for him, and, influenced by this hope, I senthim this morning a request to come and see it tomorrow. Tonight Iattended this ball, and almost as soon as I enter the drawing-room Ihear that Mrs. Fairbrother is present and is wearing her famous jewel.What could you expect of me? Why, that I would make an effort to see itand so be ready with a reply to my exacting customer when he should askme to-morrow if the stone I showed him had its peer in the city. Butwas not in the drawing-room then, and later I became interestedelsewhere"--here he cast a look at me--"so that half the evening passedbefore I had an opportunity to join her in the so-called alcove, whereI had seen her set up her miniature court. What passed between us in theshort interview we held together you will find me prepared to state, ifnecessary. It was chiefly marked by the one short view I succeeded inobtaining of her marvelous diamond, in spite of the pains she took tohide it from me by some natural movement whenever she caught my eyesleaving her face. But in that one short look I had seen enough. This wasa gem for a collector, not to be worn save in a royal presence. How hadshe come by it? And could Mr. Smythe expect me to procure him a stonelike that? In my confusion I arose to depart, but the lady showeda disposition to keep me, and began chatting so vivaciously that Iscarcely noticed that she was all the time engaged in drawing offher gloves. Indeed, I almost forgot the jewel, possibly because hermovements hid it so completely, and only remembered it when, with asudden turn from the window where she had drawn me to watch the fallingflakes, she pressed the gloves into my hand with the coquettish requestthat I should take care of them for her. I remember, as I took them,of striving to catch another glimpse of the stone, whose brilliancyhad dazzled me, but she had opened her fan between us. A moment after,thinking I heard approaching steps, I quitted the room. This was myfirst visit."

  As he stopped, possibly for breath, possibly to judge to what extent Iwas impressed by his account, the inspector seized the opportunity toask if Mrs. Fairbrother had been standing any of this time with her backto him. To which he answered yes, while they were in the window.

  "Long enough for her to pluck off the jewel and thrust it into thegloves, if she had so wished?"

  "Quite long enough."

  "But you did not see her do this?"

  "I did not."

  "And so took the gloves without suspicion?"

  "Entirely so."

  "And carried them away?"

  "Unfortunately, yes."

  "Without thinking that she might want them the next minute?"

  "I doubt if I was thinking seriously of her at all. My thoughts were onmy own disappointment."

  "Did you carry these gloves out in your hand?"

  "No, in my pocket."

  "I see. And you met--"

  "No one. The sound I heard must have come from the rear hall."

  "And there was nobody on the steps?"

  "No. A gentleman was standing at their foot--Mr. Grey, theEnglishman--but his face was turned another way, and he looked as if hehad been in that same position for several minutes."

  "Did this gentleman--Mr. Grey--see you?"

  "I can not say, but I doubt it. He appeared to be in a sort of dream.There were other people about, but nobody with whom I was acquainted."

  "Very good. Now for the second visit you acknowledge having paid thisunfortunate lady."

  The inspector's voice was hard. I clung a little more tightly to myuncle, and Mr. Durand, after one agonizing glance my way, drew himselfup as if quite conscious that he had entered upon the most serious partof the struggle.

  "I had forgotten the gloves in my hurried departure; but presently Iremembered them, and grew very uneasy. I did not like carrying thiswoman's property about with me. I had engaged myself, an hour before, toMiss Van Arsdale, and was very anxious to rejoin her. The gloves worriedme, and finally, after a little aimless wandering through the variousrooms, I determined to go back and restore them to their owner. Thedoors of the supper-room had just been flung open, and the end ofthe hall near the alcove was comparatively empty, save for a certainquizzical friend of mine, whom I saw sitting with his partner on theyellow divan. I did not want to encounter him just then, for he hadalready joked me about my admiration for the lady with the diamond, andso I conceived the idea of approaching her by means of a second entranceto the alcove, unsuspected by most of those present, but perfectlywell-known to me, who have been a frequent guest in this house. A door,covered by temporary draperies, connects, as you may know, this alcovewith a passageway communicating directly with the hall of entrance andthe up-stairs dressing-rooms. To go up the main stairs and come downby the side one, and so on, through a smal
l archway, was a very simplematter for me. If no early-departing or late arriving guests were inthat hall, I need fear but one encounter, and that was with the servantstationed at the carriage entrance. But even he was absent at thispropitious instant, and I reached the door I sought without anyunpleasantness. This door opened out instead of in,--this I also knewwhen planning this surreptitious intrusion, but, after pulling it openand reaching for the curtain, which hung completely across it, I foundit not so easy to proceed as I had imagined. The stealthiness of myaction held back my hand; then the faint sounds I heard within advisedme that she was not alone, and that she might very readily regard withdispleasure my unexpected entrance by a door of which she was possiblyignorant. I tell you all this because, if by any chance I was seenhesitating in face of that curtain, doubts might have been raised whichI am anxious to dispel." Here his eyes left my face for that of theinspector.

  "It certainly had a bad look,--that I don't deny; but I did not thinkof appearances then. I was too anxious to complete a task which hadsuddenly presented unexpected difficulties. That I listened beforeentering was very natural, and when I heard no voice, only somethinglike a great sigh, I ventured to lift the curtain and step in. She wassitting, not where I had left her, but on a couch at the left of theusual entrance, her face toward me, and--you know how, Inspector. It washer last sigh I had heard. Horrified, for I had never looked on deathbefore, much less crime, I reeled forward, meaning, I presume, torush down the steps shouting for help, when, suddenly, something fellsplashing on my shirt-front, and I saw myself marked with a stain ofblood. This both frightened and bewildered me, and it was a minute ortwo before I had the courage to look up. When I did do so, I saw whencethis drop had come. Not from her, though the red stream was pouring downthe rich folds of her dress, but from a sharp needle-like instrumentwhich had been thrust, point downward, in the open work of an antiquelantern hanging near the doorway. What had happened to me might havehappened to any one who chanced to be in that spot at that specialmoment, but I did not realize this then. Covering the splash with myhands, I edged myself back to the door by which I had entered, watchingthose deathful eyes and crushing under my feet the remnants of somebroken china with which the carpet was bestrewn. I had no thought ofher, hardly any of myself. To cross the room was all; to escape assecretly as I came, before the portiere so nearly drawn between meand the main hall should stir under the hand of some curious personentering. It was my first sight of blood; my first contact with crime,and that was what I did,--I fled."

  The last word was uttered with a gasp. Evidently he was greatly affectedby this horrible experience.

  "I am ashamed of myself," he muttered, "but nothing can now undo thefact. I slid from the presence of this murdered woman as though she hadbeen the victim of my own rage or cupidity; and, being fortunate enoughto reach the dressing-room before the alarm had spread beyond theimmediate vicinity of the alcove, found and put on the handkerchief,which made it possible for me to rush down and find Miss Van Arsdale,who, somebody told me, had fainted. Not till I stood over her in thatremote corner beyond the supper-room did I again think of the gloves.What I did when I happened to think of them, you already know. I couldhave shown no greater cowardice if I had known that the murdered woman'sdiamond was hidden inside them. Yet, I did not know this, or evensuspect it. Nor do I understand, now, her reason for placing it there.Why should Mrs. Fairbrother risk such an invaluable gem to the custodyof one she knew so little? An unconscious custody, too? Was she afraidof being murdered if she retained this jewel?"

  The inspector thought a moment, and then said:

  "You mention your dread of some one entering by the one door before youcould escape by the other. Do you refer to the friend you left sittingon the divan opposite?"

  "No, my friend had left that seat. The portiere was sufficiently drawnfor me to detect that. If I had waited a minute longer," he bitterlyadded, "I should have found my way open to the regular entrance, and soescaped all this."

  "Mr. Durand, you are not obliged to answer any of my questions; but, ifyou wish, you may tell me whether, at this moment of apprehension, youthought of the danger you ran of being seen from outside by some one ofthe many coachmen passing by on the driveway?"

  "No,--I did not even think of the window,--I don't know why; but, ifany one passing by did see me, I hope they saw enough to substantiate mystory."

  The inspector made no reply. He seemed to be thinking. I heard afterwardthat the curtains, looped back in the early evening, had been foundhanging at full length over this window by those who first rushed inupon the scene of death. Had he hoped to entrap Mr. Durand into somedamaging admission? Or was he merely testing his truth? His expressionafforded no clue to his thoughts, and Mr. Durand, noting this, remarkedwith some dignity:

  "I do not expect strangers to accept these explanations, which mustsound strange and inadequate in face of the proof I carry of having beenwith that woman after the fatal weapon struck her heart. But, to one whoknows me, and knows me well, I can surely appeal for credence to a talewhich I here declare to be as true as if I had sworn to it in a court ofjustice."

  "Anson!" I passionately cried out, loosening my clutch upon my uncle'sarm. My confidence in him had returned.

  And then, as I noted the inspector's businesslike air, and my uncle'swavering look and unconvinced manner, I felt my heart swell, and,flinging all discretion to the wind, I bounded eagerly forward. Layingmy hands in those of Mr. Durand, I cried fervently:

  "I believe in you. Nothing but your own words shall ever shake myconfidence in your innocence."

  The sweet, glad look I received was my best reply. I could leave theroom, after that.

  But not the house. Another experience awaited me, awaited us all, beforethis full, eventful evening came to a close.