CHAPTER VI
HERRICK IS ASKED A FAVOR
Hermann Deutch was a shortish, middle-aged Jew, belonging to the humblerclasses and of a perfectly cheap and cheerful type. But at the presentmoment he was not cheerful. He showed his harassment in the drawndiffidence of his sympathetic, emotional face, and in every line ofwhat, ten or fifteen years ago, must have been a handsome little person.Since that period his tight black curls, receding further and furtherfrom his naturally high forehead, had grown decidedly thin, and exactlythe reverse of this had happened to his figure. But he had still a pairof femininely liquid and large black eyes, brimming with the romancewhich does not characterize the cheap and cheerful of other races, andHerrick remembered him last night as very impressionably, but notbasely, nervous.
He now fixed his liquid eyes upon Herrick with an anxiety which tookhumble but minute notes. Since the young fellow was at leasthalf-dressed in very well-cut and well-cared-for, if not specially new,garments, it was clear to Mr. Deutch's reluctant admiration that he wasthoroughly "_high-class_!" Whatever was Mr. Deutch's apprehension, itshrank weakly back upon itself. Then he simply took his life in hishands and plunged.
"I won't keep you a minute, Mr. Herrick. But I've got a little favor Iwant to ask you.--You behaved simply splendid last night, Mr.Herrick.--Well, I will, thanks,"--as he dropped into a chair. "I--Iwon't keep you a minute--"
"I'll be glad to do anything I can," Herrick interrupted.
The news in his paper had made him feel as if he had just beendisinherited and, now that the dead man was a personality so much nearerhome, his brain rang with a hundred impressions of pity and wonder andexcitement. But he sympathized with poor Mr. Deutch; it could be nosinecure to be the superintendent of a murder! Then, recollecting, "Whatmade you so certain it was suicide?" he asked suddenly.
"What else could it be? There wasn't anybody but him there."
"There was a woman there," Herrick said, "when the shot was fired."
The superintendent took out his handkerchief and wiped his face. "Well,now, Mr. Herrick, that's just what I wanted to see you about. Nowplease, Mr. Herrick, don't get excited and mad! All I want to say is, ifthere _was_ a lady there last night--but there _couldn't_ havebeen--well, of course, Mr. Herrick, if you say so! Why, you couldn'thave seen her so very plain, now could you?"
"What are you driving at?" Herrick asked.
"Couldn't it have been a gentleman's shadow you saw, Mr. Herrick? Mr.Ingham's shadow? Raising his pistol, maybe, with one hand--"
"While he played the piano with the other?"
"Mr. Herrick, there couldn't have been any lady there!" He bridled."It's against the rules--that time o' night! I wouldn't ever allow sucha thing. There's never been a word against the Van Dam since I beenrunning it. Why, Mr. Herrick, if there was to be that kind of talk,especially if she was to murder the gentleman and all like that, I'd beruined. And so'd the house. It ain't one o' these cheap flat buildings.We got leases signed by--"
"Oh, I see!" Herrick felt his temper rising. But he tried to bereasonable while he added, "I'm very sorry for you. But there was awoman there. I've reported so already to the police. Even if I had not,I couldn't go in for perjury, Mr. Deutch."
"No, no! Of course not! Of course! I wouldn't ask you! You don'tunderstand me! It's not to take back what you said already to thepolice. That'd get you into trouble. And it couldn't be done. I couldn'texpect it. It's not facts you might go a little easy on, Mr. Herrick;it's your language!"
"What!"
"It's your descriptive language, Mr. Herrick. If only you wouldn't bequite so particular--"
"Look here!" said Herrick with his odd, brusk slowness. "I didn't knowit myself last night. But Mr. Ingham wasn't altogether a stranger tome." Deutch stared at him. "He had friends in the town I come from and agood many people I know are going to be badly cut up about his death. Iwas to have met him on business this very day. Now you can see that Idon't feel very leniently to the person--not even to the woman--whomurdered him. I don't believe he killed himself. He had no reason to doit. If there's anything I can do to prove he didn't, that thing's goingto be done. If there's any word of mine that's a clue to tell who killedhim, I can't speak it often enough nor loud enough. Understand that, Mr.Deutch. And, good-morning."
"Oh, my God! Oh, dear! But my dear sir--"
"And let me give you a word of warning. If you keep on like this whatpeople will really say is, that you knew there was a woman there andthat it was you who connived at her escape!"
"All right!" cried Mr. Deutch, unexpectedly. "Let 'em say it! I got nokick coming if people tell lies about me, any. All I want stopped is thelies you're putting into people's heads about Miss Christina."
"Miss Christina!" Herrick exclaimed. He stared, wondering if the poorworried little soul had gone out of his head. "I never mentioned anywoman's name. I didn't know any to mention. I never heard of any MissChristina!"
"You told the policeman the way she made motions, moving around and alllike that, it made you think maybe they were rehearsing something out ofa play."
"Did I? Well?"
Mr. Deutch possessed himself of the newspaper which Herrick had droppedupon the bed, and pointed to the last line of the murder story. It ran:"About a year ago Mr. Ingham became engaged to be married to ChristinaHope, the actress." And Herrick read the line with a strange thrill, asof prophecy realized. "Oh--ho!" he breathed.
"Oh--ho!" hysterically mocked the superintendent. "You see what it makesyou think, all right. Even me!--that was what brought her first to mymind, poor lady. The police officers may have forgot it or not noticed,any. But if you say it again, at the inquest, you'll make everybodythink the same thing. And it's not so!" he almost shrieked. "It's notso. It's a damn mean lie! And you got no right to say such a thing!"
"That's true," said Herrick, intently. After his impulsive whistle hehad begun to furl his sails. He had heard vaguely of Christina Hope, asa promising young actress who had made her mark somewhere in the West,and was soon to attempt the same feat on Broadway. He knew nothing toher detriment.
"Ain't it hard enough for her, poor young lady, with him gone and all,but what she should have that said about her! And it wouldn't stopthere, even! She was there alone with him at night, they'd say, withtheir nasty slurs. She'd never stand a chance. For there ain't anydenying she's on the stage, and that's enough to make everybody thinkshe's guilty--"
"Oh, come! Why--"
"Wasn't it enough for you, yourself?"
Herrick opened his lips for an indignant negative, but he closed themwithout speaking.
"The minute you seen that paragraph you felt 'She's just the person tobe mixed up with things that way.' And then you grabbed hold of yourselfand said, 'Why, no. She may be as nice as anybody. Give her the benefitof the doubt.' But there's the doubt, all right. You're an edjucatedgennelman," said Mr. Deutch, sympathetically, "but all these prejudiced,old-fashioned farmers and low-brows like they got on juries--people likethem, and Miss Christina--Oh! Good Lord! Ach, don't I know 'em! Mr.Herrick, it's my solemn word, if you say that at the inquest to turnthem on to Miss Christina, you--"
"I shan't say it at the inquest," Herrick said. He was astonished at thecompleteness of the charge in his own mind. He was convinced, now, inevery nerve, that Ingham had met death at the hands of his betrothed.But the very violence of his conviction warned him not to lay such ahandicap upon other minds. His chance phrase, his chance impression,must color neither the popular nor the legal outlook. "I shall take verygood care, you may be sure, to say nothing of the kind. Here!" he cried,"you want a drink!"
For Mr. Deutch, at this emphatic assurance, had put his plump elbows onhis plump knees and hidden his moon face, his spaniel eyes, with plumpand shaky fists. He drank the whiskey Herrick brought him and slowly gothimself together; without embarrassment, but with a comfort in hisrelaxation which made Herrick guess how tight he had been strung. As hereturned the glass he said, "If you knew what a lot we thought, Mr.Herrick
, me and my wife, of the young lady, I wouldn't seem anywheresnear so crazy to you."
Herrick sat down on the edge of the bed in his shirtsleeves andregarded his guest. Strict delicacy required that he ask no questions.But he was human. And he had been a reporter. He said, "You used to seeher with Mr. Ingham?"
"Oh, great Scott, Mr. Herrick, we knew her long before that! Long beforeever _he_ set eyes on her. When she was a tiny little thing and her papahad money, he used to get his wine from my firm. He was such apleasant-spoken, agreeable gentleman that when I went into business formyself I sent him my card. It wasn't the wine business, Mr. Herrick, itwas oil paintings. I always was what you might call artistic; I got veryrefined feelings, and business ain't exactly in my line. I had ashigh-class a little shop as ever you set your eyes on; gold frames;plush draperies, electric lights; fine, beautiful oil paintings--oh,beautiful!--by expensive, high-class artists; everything elegant. But itwasn't a success. The public don't appreciate the artistic, Mr. Herrick,they got no edjucation. I lost my last dollar, and I don't know as Iever recovered exactly. I ain't ever been what you could call anywayssuccessful, since."
"But you saw something of Mr. Hope--"
"Well, Mr. Hope was an edjucated gentleman, Mr. Herrick, like you areyourself. He had very up-to-date ideas; and when he'd buy a picture,once in a while I'd go up to the house to see it hung. Miss Christinawas about eight years old, then, and I used to see her coming in fromdancing school with her maid, or else she'd be just riding out with hergroom behind her, like a little queen. When my shop failed; I went tomanage my sister-in-law's restaurant. I was ashamed to let Mr. Hope knowthat time. But one Sunday night, my wife says to me, 'Ain't that littlegirl as pretty as the one you been telling me about?' And there in thedoor, with her long hair straight down from under her big hat and herlittle long legs in black silk stockings straight down from one o' thempleated skirts and her long, square, coat, was Miss Christina. Behindher was her papa and her mama. And after that they came pretty regularevery week or two; we served her twelfth birthday party. My wife made acake with twelve pink rosebuds, all herself. She was always the littlelady, Miss Christina, but she made her own friends, and to people sheliked she spoke as pretty as a princess. We got to feel such anaffection for her, Mr. Herrick, we couldn't believe there was anybodylike her in this world. We never had a child of our own, me and my wife,Mr. Herrick. It does knock out your faith in things to think a thinglike that can happen, but it's what's happened to her and me. We waskind of cracked about all children, and Miss Christina was certainly themost stylish child I ever set eyes on!"
"Father living?" Herrick prompted.
"No, Mr. Herrick, no. And before he died, he got into businessdifficulties himself, and he didn't leave enough to keep a bird alive. Ihelped Mrs. Hope dispose of all the bric-a-brac, my paintings and all,everything that wasn't mortgaged, and they put it in with an aunt of Mr.Hope's, a catamaran, and went to keeping a high-class boarding-house.We're all apt to fall, Mr. Herrick. I've fallen myself."
"The boarding-house didn't succeed either, then?"
"I ask you, how could it, with that battle-ax? She cheated my poorladies, and she bullied Miss Christina, and used to take the books shewas always reading and burn 'em up, and say nasty common things to her,when she got older, about the young gentlemen that were always on herheels even then, and that she'd like well enough, one day, and the nextshe couldn't stand the sight of. If there's one thing Miss Christinahas, more than another, it's a high spirit; she has what I'd call aplenty of it. They had fierce fights. Often, when she'd come to me witha little breastpin or other to pawn for her, so her and her mama'd havea mite o' cash, she'd put her pretty head down on my wife's shoulder andcry; and my wife'd make her a cup o' tea. She'd say then she was goingto run away and be an actress. And, when she was sixteen yet, she ran.Two years afterward, her and her mama turned up in my first littleflat-house; a cheap one, down Eighth Avenue, in the twenties. She was onthe stage, all right, and what a time she'd had! It'd been cruel, Mr.Herrick; cruel hard work and, just at the first, cruel little of it. Butnow she's a leading lady. And this fall she's going to open in New York,in a big part. It's the play they call 'The Victors'; I guess you'veheard. Mr. Wheeler, he's the star, and Miss Christina's part's betterthan what his is. But now--"
There was a pause. Mr. Deutch mopped his face, and Herrick, cogitating,bit his lip.
"This engagement to Ingham--"
"She met him about two years ago, when she had her first leading part,and they went right off their heads about each other. I never expected Ishould see Miss Christina act so regular loony over any man. But sherefused him time and again. She said she'd always been a curse toherself and she wasn't going to bring her curse on him. In the end, ofcourse, she gave in. She said she'd marry him this winter, if he'd goaway for the summer and leave her alone. You knew it was only day beforeyesterday he got back from Europe?"
"Yes. I know."
"My wife and me have seen a lot more of her this summer than since shewas a little girl. There's been years at a time, all the while she wason the road, that we wouldn't know if she was alive or dead. And thensome day I'd come home, and find her sitting in our apartment--it's abasement apartment, Mr. Herrick!--as easy as if she'd just steppedacross the street. But I wouldn't like you should think it's MissChristina's talked to us very much about her engagement. She's a prettyclose-mouthed girl, in her way, and a simply elegant lady. Not but whatMrs. Hope is an elegant lady, too. But still she is--if you know what Imean--gabby! Miss Christina's always been a puzzle to her; and she's agreat hand to sit and make guesses at her with my wife. Mr. Ingham lefta key with Miss Christina when he went abroad so she could come and playhis piano and read his books whenever it suited her, and she'd have aquiet place to study her part. Every once in a while Mrs. Hope wouldtake a notion it wasn't quite the proper thing she should come byherself. But after she'd seen her inside, she'd drop down our way andwait. She wasn't just exactly gone on Mr. Ingham, and my wife wasn'teither."
Herrick lifted his head with a flash of interest. "Mrs. Hope opposed themarriage?"
"Well, not opposed. She never opposed the young lady in anything, whenyou came down to it. But he wanted she should leave the stage. And hewasn't ever faithful to her, Mr. Herrick! For all he was so crazy abouther and so wild-animal jealous of the very air she had to breathe, hewasn't ever faithful to her--and if ever you'd seen her, that'd makeyour blood boil! She'd hear things; and he'd lie. And she'd believe him,and believe him! If it wasn't for his money, she'd be well rid of him,to my mind."
He sat nursing his wrath. And Herrick, still watching him, felt sorry.For, in Herrick's mind it was now all so clear; so pitiably clear! Poorlittle chap!--he didn't know how scanty was the reassurance in hisportrait of his Miss Christina! The indulged, imperious child, choosing"her own" friends; the unhappy, bold, bedeviled girl, already with youngmen at her heels, whom she encouraged one day and flouted the next;pawning her trinkets at sixteen and plunging alone into the world, theworld of the stage; the ambitious, adventurous woman capable of holdingsuch a devotion as that of the good Deutch by so capricious andhigh-handed a return, snaring such a man of the world as Ingham by anadroit blending of abandon and retreat, putting up with the humiliationsof his flagrant inconstancies only, perhaps, to find herself, after herstipulated summer alone, on the verge of losing him through hisinsensate jealousy--were there no materials here for tragic quarrel? Wasnot this the very figure that last night he had seen fling out an arm inunexampled passion and grace? In his heart he saw Christina Hope, whileher betrothed, whether as accuser or accused, taunted her from thepiano, kill James Ingham. And he profoundly knew that he had almost seenthis with his eyes. His pulse beat high; but it was with a sobered mindthat he beheld Mr. Deutch preparing to depart.
"Well, you see how I had to ask you, Mr. Herrick, not to say that lady'sshadow made you think any of an actress?"
"I do, indeed."
"There isn't any language can express how I
thank you. But I know ifonly you was acquainted with her--" He had turned, in rising, to get hishat, and he now stopped short and exclaimed with bewildered reproach,"Oh, well, now, Mr. Herrick! Why wouldn't you tell me?"
"Tell you?" Herrick's eyes followed his. They led to the likeness of hisEvadne, of his dear Heroine. "Tell you what?"
"Why, that you _was_ acquainted with--" said Mr. Deutch, extending hishat, as if in a magnificence of introduction, "Christina Hope."
Herrick could not speak. And Deutch added, "You was acquainted with her,all along! It's a real old picture--'bout five years ago. You knew herthen? You knew her--And you--saw--" His voice died away. His glanceturned from Herrick's and traveled unwillingly to where, upon the blindsdrawn down again, across the street, it seemed to both men the shadowmust start forth. And, as he slowly withdrew his gaze, Herrick saw,looking out at him from those soft, spaniel eyes, the eyes of fear.
Deutch bowed bruskly and withdrew. Herrick was alone, as he had beenthese many months, with the young challenge of his Heroine; the familiarface, long learned by heart, asking its innocent questions about life,shone softly out on him, in pride. And, on that August morning, he felthis blood go cold.