XXII.
A BLANK CARD.
The next day at noon Lena brought me up a card on her tray. It was aperfectly blank one.
"Miss Van Burnam's maid said you sent for this," was her demureannouncement.
"Miss Van Burnam's maid is right," said I, taking the card and with it afresh installment of courage.
Nothing happened for two days, then there came word from the kitchenthat a bushel of potatoes had arrived. Going down to see them, I drewfrom their midst a large square envelope, which I immediately carried tomy room. It failed to contain a photograph; but there was a letter in itcouched in these terms:
"DEAR MISS BUTTERWORTH:
"The esteem which you are good enough to express for me is returned. I regret that I cannot oblige you. There are no photographs to be found in Mrs. Van Burnam's rooms. Perhaps this fact may be accounted for by the curiosity shown in those apartments by a very spruce new boarder we have had from New York. His taste for that particular quarter of the house was such that I could not keep him away from it except by lock and key. If there was a picture there of Mrs. Van Burnam, he took it, for he departed very suddenly one night. I am glad he took nothing more with him. The talks he had with my servant-girl have almost led to my dismissing her.
"Praying your pardon for the disappointment I am forced to give you, I remain,
"Yours sincerely,
"SUSAN FERGUSON."
So! so! balked by an emissary of Mr. Gryce. Well, well, we would dowithout the photograph! Mr. Gryce might need it, but not AmeliaButterworth.
This was on a Thursday, and on the evening of Saturday the long-desiredclue was given me. It came in the shape of a letter brought me by Mr.Alvord.
Our interview was not an agreeable one. Mr. Alvord is a clever man andan adroit one, or I should not persist in employing him as my lawyer;but he never understood _me_. At this time, and with this letter in hishand, he understood me less than ever, which naturally called out mypowers of self-assertion and led to some lively conversation between us.But that is neither here nor there. He had brought me an answer to myadvertisement and I was presently engrossed by it. It was an uneducatedwoman's epistle and its chirography and spelling were dreadful; so Iwill just mention its contents, which were highly interesting inthemselves, as I think you will acknowledge.
She, that is, the writer, whose name, as nearly as I could make out, wasBertha Desberger, knew such a person as I described, and could give menews of her if I would come to her house in West Ninth Street at fouro'clock Sunday afternoon.
If I would! I think my face must have shown my satisfaction, for Mr.Alvord, who was watching me, sarcastically remarked:
"You don't seem to find any difficulties in that communication. Now,what do you think of this one?"
He held out another letter which had been directed to him, and which hehad opened. Its contents called up a shade of color to my cheek, for Idid not want to go through the annoyance of explaining myself again:
"DEAR SIR:
"From a strange advertisement which has lately appeared in the _Herald_, I gather that information is wanted of a young woman who on the morning of the eighteenth inst. entered my store without any bonnet on her head, and saying she had met with an accident, bought a hat which she immediately put on. She was pale as a girl could be and looked so ill that I asked her if she was well enough to be out alone; but she gave me no reply and left the store as soon as possible. That is all I can tell you about her."
With this was enclosed his card:
PHINEAS COX,
_Millinery_,
_Trimmed and Untrimmed Hats_,
---- Sixth Avenue.
"Now, what does this mean?" asked Mr. Alvord. "The morning of theeighteenth was the morning when the murder was discovered in which youhave shown such interest."
"It means," I retorted with some spirit, for simple dignity was thrownaway on this man, "that I made a mistake in choosing your office as amedium for my business communications."
This was to the point and he said no more, though he eyed the letter inmy hand very curiously, and seemed more than tempted to renew thehostilities with which we had opened our interview.
Had it not been Saturday, and late in the day at that, I would havevisited Mr. Cox's store before I slept, but as it was I felt obliged towait till Monday. Meanwhile I had before me the still more importantinterview with Mrs. Desberger.
As I had no reason to think that my visiting any number in Ninth Streetwould arouse suspicion in the police, I rode there quite boldly the nextday, and with Lena at my side, entered the house of Mrs. BerthaDesberger.
For this trip I had dressed myself plainly, and drawn over my eyes--andthe puffs which I still think it becoming in a woman of my age towear--a dotted veil, thick enough to conceal my features, withoutrobbing me of that aspect of benignity necessary to the success of mymission. Lena wore her usual neat gray dress, and looked the picture ofall the virtues.
A large brass door-plate, well rubbed, was the first sign vouchsafed usof the respectability of the house we were about to enter; and theparlor, when we were ushered into it, fully carried out the promise thusheld forth on the door-step. It was respectable, but in wretched tasteas regards colors. I, who have the nicest taste in such matters, lookedabout me in dismay as I encountered the greens and blues, the crimsonsand the purples which everywhere surrounded me.
But I was not on a visit to a temple of art, and resolutely shutting myeyes to the offending splendor about me--worsted splendor, youunderstand,--I waited with subdued expectation for the lady of thehouse.
She came in presently, bedecked in a flowered gown that was an epitomeof the blaze of colors everywhere surrounding us; but her face was agood one, and I saw that I had neither guile nor over-much shrewdness tocontend with.
She had seen the coach at the door, and she was all smiles and flutter.
"You have come for the poor girl who stopped here a few days ago," shebegan, glancing from my face to Lena's with an equally inquiring air,which in itself would have shown her utter ignorance of socialdistinctions if I had not bidden Lena to keep at my side and hold herhead up as if she had business there as well as myself.
"Yes," returned I, "we have. Lena here, has lost a relative (which wastrue), and knowing no other way of finding her, I suggested theinsertion of an advertisement in the paper. You read the descriptiongiven, of course. Has the person answering it been in this house?"
"Yes; she came on the morning of the eighteenth. I remember it becausethat was the very day my cook left, and I have not got another one yet."She sighed and went on. "I took a great interest in that unhappy youngwoman--Was she your sister?" This, somewhat doubtfully, to Lena, whoperhaps had too few colors on to suit her.
"No," answered Lena, "she wasn't my sister, but----"
I immediately took the words out of her mouth.
"At what time did she come here, and how long did she stay? We want tofind her very much. Did she give you any name, or tell where she wasgoing?"
"She said her name was Oliver." (I thought of the O. R. on the clothesat the laundry.) "But I knew this wasn't so; and if she had not lookedso very modest, I might have hesitated to take her in. But, lor! I can'tresist a girl in trouble, and she was in trouble, if ever a girl was.And then she had money--Do you know what her trouble was?" This again toLena, and with an air at once suspicious and curious. But Lena has agood face, too, and her frank eyes at once disarmed the weak andgood-natured woman before us.
"I thought"--she went on before Lena could answer--"that whatever itwas, _you_ had nothing to do with it, nor this lady either."
"No," answered Lena, seeing that I wished her to do the talking. "And wedon't know" (which was true enough so far as Lena went) "just what hertrouble was. Didn't she tell you?"
"She told nothing. When she came she said she wanted to stay with me alittle wh
ile. I sometimes take boarders----" She had twenty in the houseat that minute, if she had one. Did she think I couldn't see the lengthof her dining-room table through the crack of the parlor door? "'I canpay,' she said, which I had not doubted, for her blouse was a veryexpensive one; though I thought her skirt looked queer, and her hat--DidI say she had a hat on? You seemed to doubt that fact in youradvertisement. Goodness me! if she had had no hat on, she wouldn't havegot as far as my parlor mat. But her blouse showed her to be alady--and then her face--it was as white as your handkerchief there,madam, but so sweet--I thought of the Madonna faces I had seen inCatholic churches."
I started; inwardly commenting: "Madonna-like, _that_ woman!" But aglance at the room about me reassured me. The owner of such hideoussofas and chairs and of the many pictures effacing or rather defacingthe paper on the walls, could not be a judge of Madonna faces.
"You admire everything that is good and lovely," I suggested, for Mrs.Desberger had paused at the movement I made.
"Yes, it is my nature to do so, ma'am. I love the beautiful," and shecast a half-apologetic, half-proud look about her. "So I listened to thegirl and let her sit down in my parlor. She had had nothing to eat thatmorning, and though she didn't ask for it, I went to order her a cup oftea, for I knew she couldn't get up-stairs without it. Her eyes followedme when I went out of the room in a way that haunted me, and when I cameback--I shall never forget it, ma'am--there she lay stretched out on thefloor with her face on the ground and her hands thrown out. Wasn't ithorrible, ma'am? I don't wonder you shudder."
Did I shudder? If I did, it was because I was thinking of that otherwoman, the victim of this one, whom I had seen, with her face turnedupward and her arms outstretched, in the gloom of Mr. Van Burnam'shalf-closed parlor.
"She looked as if she was dead," the good woman continued, "but just asI was about to call for help, her fingers moved and I rushed to lifther. She was neither dead nor had she fainted; she was simply dumb withmisery. What could have happened to her? I have asked myself a hundredtimes."
My mouth was shut very tight, but I shut it still tighter, for thetemptation was great to cry: "She had just committed murder!" As it was,no sound whatever left my lips, and the good woman doubtless thought meno better than a stone, for she turned with a shrug to Lena, repeatingstill more wistfully than before:
"_Don't_ you know what her trouble was?"
But, of course, poor Lena had nothing to say, and the woman went on witha sigh:
"Well, I suppose I shall never know what had used that poor creature upso completely. But whatever it was, it gave me enough trouble, though Ido not want to complain of it, for why are we here, if not to help andcomfort the miserable. It was an hour, ma'am; it was an hour, miss,before I could get that poor girl to speak; but when I did succeed, andhad got her to drink the tea and eat a bit of toast, then I felt quiterepaid by the look of gratitude she gave me and the way she clung to mysleeve when I tried to leave her for a minute. It was this sleeve,ma'am," she explained, lifting a cluster of rainbow flounces and ribbonswhich but a minute before had looked little short of ridiculous in myeyes, but which in the light of the wearer's kind-heartedness had lostsome of their offensive appearance.
"Poor Mary!" murmured Lena, with what I considered most admirablepresence of mind.
"What name did you say?" cried Mrs. Desberger, eager enough to learn allshe could of her late mysterious lodger.
"I had rather not tell her name," protested Lena, with a timid air thatadmirably fitted her rather doll-like prettiness. "_She_ didn't tell youwhat it was, and _I_ don't think I ought to."
Good for little Lena! And she did not even know for whom or what she wasplaying the _role_ I had set her.
"I thought you said Mary. But I won't be inquisitive with you. I wasn'tso with her. But where was I in my story? Oh, I got her so she couldspeak, and afterwards I helped her up-stairs; but she didn't stay therelong. When I came back at lunch time--I have to do my marketing nomatter what happens--I found her sitting before a table with her head onher hands. She had been weeping, but her face was quite composed now andalmost hard.
"'O you good woman!' she cried as I came in. 'I want to thank you.' ButI wouldn't let her go on wasting words like that, and presently she wassaying quite wildly: 'I want to begin a new life. I want to act as if Ihad never had a yesterday. I have had trouble, overwhelming trouble, butI will get something out of existence yet. I _will_ live, and in orderto do so, I will work. Have you a paper, Mrs. Desberger, I want to lookat the advertisements?' I brought her a _Herald_ and went to preside atmy lunch table. When I saw her again she looked almost cheerful. 'I havefound just what I want,' she cried, 'a companion's place. But I cannotapply in this dress,' and she looked at the great puffs of her silkblouse as if they gave her the horrors, though why, I cannot imagine,for they were in the latest style and rich enough for a millionaire'sdaughter, though as to colors I like brighter ones myself. 'Wouldyou'--she was very timid about it--'buy me some things if I gave you themoney?'
"If there is one thing more than another that I like, it is to shop, soI expressed my willingness to oblige her, and that afternoon I set outwith a nice little sum of money to buy her some clothes. I should haveenjoyed it more if she had let me do my own choosing--I saw theloveliest pink and green blouse--but she was very set about what shewanted, and so I just got her some plain things which I think even you,ma'am, would have approved of. I brought them home myself, for shewanted to apply immediately for the place she had seen advertised, but,O dear, when I went up to her room----"
"Was she gone?" burst in Lena.
"O no, but there was such a smudge in it, and--and I could cry when Ithink of it--there in the grate were the remains of her beautiful silkblouse, all smoking and ruined. She had tried to burn it, and she hadsucceeded too. I could not get a piece out as big as my hand."
"But you got some of it!" blurted out Lena, guided by a look which Igave her.
"Yes, scraps, it was so handsome. I think I have a bit in my work-basketnow."
"O get it for me," urged Lena. "I want it to remember her by."
"My work-basket is here." And going to a sort of _etagere_ covered witha thousand knick-knacks picked up at bargain counters, she opened alittle cupboard and brought out a basket, from which she presentlypulled a small square of silk. It was, as she said, of the richestweaving, and was, as I had not the least doubt, a portion of the dressworn by Mrs. Van Burnam from Haddam.
"Yes, it was hers," said Lena, reading the expression of my face, andputting the scrap away very carefully in her pocket.
"Well, I would have given her five dollars for that blouse," murmuredMrs. Desberger, regretfully. "But girls like her are so improvident."
"And did she leave that day?" I asked, seeing that it was hard for thiswoman to tear her thoughts away from this coveted article.
"Yes, ma'am. It was late, and I had but little hopes of her getting thesituation she was after. But she promised to come back if she didn't;and as she did not come back I decided that she was more successful thanI had anticipated."
"And don't you know where she went? Didn't she confide in you at all?"
"No; but as there were but three advertisements for a lady-companion inthe _Herald_ that day, it will be easy to find her. Would you like tosee those advertisements? I saved them out of curiosity."
I assented, as you may believe, and she brought us the clippings atonce. Two of them I read without emotion, but the third almost took mybreath away. It was an advertisement for a lady-companion accustomed tothe typewriter and of some taste in dressmaking, and the address givenwas that of Miss Althorpe.
If this woman, steeped in misery and darkened by crime, should be there!
As I shall not mention Mrs. Desberger again for some time, I will heresay that at the first opportunity which presented itself I sent Lena tothe shops with orders to buy and have sent to Mrs. Desberger the ugliestand most flaunting of silk blouses that could be found on Sixth Avenue;and as Lena's dimples we
re more than usually pronounced on her return, Ihave no doubt she chose one to suit the taste and warm the body of theestimable woman, whose kindly nature had made such a favorableimpression upon me.