CHAPTER XIV. THE PRIVATE SAFE
Divided as she was among several opinions, torn by doubts and sufferingsfrom grief, Viola Carwell found distinct relief in a message thatawaited her on her return to the house after her failure to find ColonelAshley. The message, given her by a maid, was to the effect:
"The safe man has come."
"The who?" asked Viola, not at first understanding.
"The safe man. He said you sent for him to open a safe and--"
"Oh, yes, I understand, Jane. Where is he?"
"In the library, Miss Viola."
Viola hastened to the room where so many fateful talks had taken placeof late, and found there a quiet man, beside whose chair was a limpvalise that rattled with a metallic jingle as his foot brushed againstit when he arose on her entrance.
"Have you come from the safe company?" she asked.
"Yes. I understood that there was one of our safes which could not beopened, and they sent me. Here is the order," and he held out the paper.
He spoke with quiet dignity, omitting the "ma'am," from his salutation.And Viola was glad of this. He was a relief from the usual plumber orcarpenter, who seemed to lack initiative.
"It is my father's private safe that we wish opened," she said. "Healone had the combination to it, and he--he is dead," she added softly.
"So I understood," he responded with appreciation of what her grief mustbe. "Well, I think I shall be able to open the safe without damaging it.That was what you wanted, was it not?"
"Yes. Father never let any one but himself open the safe when he wasalive. I don't believe my mother or I saw it open more than ten times,and then by accident. In it he kept his private papers. But, now thathe is--is gone, there is need to see how his affairs stand. The lawyertells me I had better open the safe.
"When we found that none of us knew the combination, and when it was notfound written down anywhere among father's other papers, and when hisclerk, Mr. Blossom, did not have it, we sent to the company."
"I understand," said the safe expert. "If you will show me--"
Viola touched a button on the wall, a button so cleverly concealed thatthe ordinary observer would never have noticed it, and a panel slidback, revealing the door of the safe.
"It was one of father's ideas that his strong box was better hidden thisway," said Viola, with a little wan smile. "Is there room enough for youto work? The safe is built into the wall."
"Oh, there is plenty of room, thank you. I can very easily get at it.It isn't the first safe I've had to work on this way. Many families havesafes hidden like this. It's a good idea."
He looked at the safe, noted the manufacturer's number, and consulted alittle book he carried with him. Then he began to turn the knob gently,listening the while, with acute and trained ears, to the noise thetumblers made as they clicked their way, unseen, amid the mazes of thecombination.
"Will it be difficult, do you think?" asked Viola. "Will it take youlong?"
"That is hard to say."
"Do you mind if I watch you?" she asked eagerly. She wanted something totake her mind off the many things that were tearing at it as the not fardistant sea tore at the shore which stood as a barrier in its way.
"Not at all," answered the expert. Then he went on with his work.
In a way it was as delicate an operation as that which sometimesconfronts a physician who is in doubt as to what ails his patient. Therewas a twisting and a turning of the knob, a listening with an ear to theheavy steel door, as a doctor listens to the breathing of a pneumoniavictim. Then with his little finger held against the numbered dial, theexpert again twirled the nickel knob, seeking to tell, by the vibration,when the little catches fell into the slots provided for them.
It was rather a lengthy operation, and he tried several of the morecommon and usual combinations without result. As he straightened up torest Viola asked:
"Do you think you can manage it? Can you open it?"
"Oh, yes. It will take a little time, but I can do it. Your fatherevidently used a more complicated combination than is usually set onthese safes. But I shall find it."
Viola's determination to open the safe had been arrived at soon afterthe funeral, when it was found that, as far as could be ascertained, herfather had left no will. A stickler for system, in its many branchesand ramifications, and insisting for minute detail on the part of hissubordinates, Horace Carwell did what many a better and worse man hasdone--put off the making of his will. And that made it necessary forthe surrogate to appoint an administrator, who, in this case, Violarenouncing her natural rights, was Miss Mary Carwell.
"I'd rather you acted than I," Viola had said, though she, being of ageand the direct heir, could well and legally have served.
Miss Carwell had agreed to act. Then it became necessary to find outcertain facts, and when they were not disclosed by a perusal of thepapers of the dead man found in his office and in the safe deposit boxat the bank, recourse was had to the private safe. LeGrand Blossom knewnothing of what was in the strong box-not even being entrusted with thecombination.
"There! It's open!" announced the expert at length, and he turned thehandle and swung back the door.
"Thank you," said Viola. Then, as she looked within the safe, sheexclaimed:
"Oh, there is an inner compartment, and that's locked, too!"
"Only with a key. That will give no trouble at all," said the man. Heproved it by opening it with the third key he tried from a bunch of manyhe took from his valise.
That was all there was for him to do, save to set the combination with asimpler system, which he did, giving Viola the numbers.
"Was it as easy as you thought?" she asked, when the expert was about toleave.
"Not quite--no. The combination was a double one. That is, in two parts.First the one had to be disposed of, and then the other worked."
"Why was that?"
"Well, it is on the same principle as the safe deposit boxes in a bank.The depositor has one key, and the bank the other. The box cannot beopened by either party alone. Both keys must be used. That insures thatno one person alone can get into the box. It was the same way with thissafe. The combination was in two parts."
"And did my father set it that way?"
"He must have done so, or had some one arrange the combination for him."
"Then he--he must have shared the combination with some one else!" Therewas fright in Viola's eyes, and a catch in her voice.
"Yes," assented the expert. "Either that or he set it that way merelyfor what we might call a 'bluff,' to throw any casual intruder off thetrack. Your father might have possessed both combinations himself."
"And yet he might have shared them with--with another person?"
"Yes."
"And the other--the other person"--Viola hesitated noticeably over theword--"would have to be present when the safe was opened?" She did notsay "he" or "she."
"Well, not necessarily," answered the expert. "He might have had thecombination in two parts, and used both of them himself. It is oftendone. Though, of course, he could, at any time, have shared the secretof the safe with some one else."
"That would only be in the event of there being something in it thatboth he and some other person would want to take out at the same time;something that one could not get at without the knowledge of the other;would it not?"
"Naturally, yes. But, as I say, it might be the other way--that thedouble combination was used merely as an additional precaution."
"Thank you," said Viola.
She sat for several minutes in front of the opened safe after the experthad gone, and did not offer to take out any of the papers that were nowexposed to view. There was a strange look on her face.
"Two persons!" she murmured. "Two persons! Did he share the secrets ofthis safe with some one--some one else?"
Viola reached forth her hand and took hold of a bundle of papers tiedwith a red band-tape it was, of the kind used in lawyers' offices. Thebundle appeared to cont
ain letters--old letters, and the handwriting wasthat of a woman.
"I wonder if I had better get Aunt Mary?" mused the girl. "She is theadministrator, and she will have to know. But there are some things Imight keep from her--if I had to."
She looked more closely at the letters, and when she saw that they werein the well-remembered hand of her mother she breathed more easily.
"If he kept--these--it must be--all right!" she faltered to herself. "Iwill call Aunt Mary."
The two women, seeing dimly through their tears at times, went overthe contents of the private safe. There were letters that told of thepast--of the happy days of love and courtship, and of the early marriedlife. Viola put them sacredly aside, and delved more deeply into thestrong box.
"It was like Horace to keep something away from every one else," saidhis sister. "He did love a secret. But we don't seem to be getting atanything, Viola, that will tell us where there is any more money, andthat's what we need now, more than anything else. At least you do, ifLeGrand Blossom is right, and you intend to keep on living in the styleyou're used to."
"I don't have to do that, Aunt Mary. Being poor would not frighten me."
"I didn't think it would. Fortunately I have enough for both of us,though I won't spend anything on a big yacht nor a car that looks like aFourth of July procession, however much I love the Star Spangled Banner.
"Oh, no, we mustn't dream of keeping the big car nor the yacht," saidViola. "They are to be sold as soon as possible. I only hope they willbring a good price. But here are more papers, Aunt Mary. We must seewhat they are. Poor father had so many business interests. It's going tobe a dreadful matter to straighten them all out."
"Well, LeGrand Blossom and Captain Poland will help us."
"Captain Poland?" questioned Viola.
"Yes. Why not? He is a fine business man, and he has large interests ofhis own. Have you any objection?"
"Oh, I don't know. Of course not!" she added quickly, as she caughtsight of a rather odd look on her aunt's face. "If we have to--I mean ifyou find it necessary, you can ask his advice, I suppose."
"Wouldn't you?"
"Why, yes, I believe I would--just as a matter of business."
Viola's voice was calm and cool, but it might have been because herattention was focused on a bundle of papers she was taking from thesafe. And a casual perusal of these showed that they had a bearing onsubjects that might explain certain things.
"Look, Aunt Mary!" the girl exclaimed. "Father seems to have kept adiary. It tells--it tells about that trouble he had with Harry--Rather,it wasn't with Harry at all. It was Harry's uncle. It's that same oldtrouble father so often referred to. He always declared he was cheatedin a certain business deal, but I always imagined it was because hedidn't make as much money as he thought he ought to. Father was likethat. But see-this puts a different face on it."
Together they looked over the papers, and among them-among thememoranda, copies of contracts and other documents--was a diary, orperhaps it might be called a business man's journal. Both Viola and heraunt were familiar enough with business to understand the import of whatthey read.
It was to the effect that Mr. Amos Bartlett, Harry's paternal uncle, hadbeen associated with Mr. Carwell in several transactions involving somebig business deals. Mr. Bartlett had been smart enough, by forming adirectorate within a directorate and by means of a dummy company, to geta large sum to his credit, while Mr. Carwell was left to face a largedeficit.
"And Harry Bartlett acted as agent for his uncle in the transactions!"exclaimed Miss Carwell as she looked over the papers.
"But I don't believe he knew anything wrong was being done!" declaredViola. "I'm positive he didn't. Harry isn't that kind of a man."
"These papers don't say so."
"Naturally you wouldn't expect father to say a good word for one heconsidered his business rival, not to say enemy. I don't believe Harryhad anything more to do with it than he had with--with poor father'sdeath."
Miss Carwell said nothing. She was busy looking over some other paperswhich the opening of the private safe had revealed. And then, while heraunt was engaged with these, Viola found a little bundle that had on ither name.
For a moment she debated with herself whether or not to open it. Thehandwriting was that of her father, and it seemed as though somethingstayed her. But she broke the string at last and there tumbled into herlap some photographs of herself, taken at different ages, a numberof them--in fact, most of them--amateur attempts, some snapped by hermother and some by her father, as Viola knew from seeing them. Sherecalled some very well--especially one taken on the back of a littleShetland pony. On the reverse of this picture Mr. Carwell had written:"My dear little girl!"
Viola burst into tears, and her aunt, seeing the cause, felt the stringsof her heart being tugged.
"Well, one thing seems to be proved," said the older woman, when theywere again going over the papers, sorting out some to be shown to thelawyer who was advising them on the conduct of the estate, "and that isthat your father didn't think very much of Harry Bartlett."
"That was his fault--I mean father's," retorted Viola. "He had no reasonfor it, even with what this paper says. I don't believe Harry would dosuch a thing."
"Do you suppose the quarrel could have been about this?" and MissCarwell held out the journal.
"I don't know what to think," said Viola. "But here is anothermemorandum. We must see what this is."
Together they bent over the remaining documents the safe had givenup--secrets of the dead.
As they read a strange look came over Viola's face.
Miss Carwell, perusing a document, recited:
"Memo. of certain matters between Captain Poland and myself. And whileI think of it let me state that but for his timely and generousfinancial aid I would have been ruined by that scoundrel Bartlett.Captain Poland saved me. And should the stock of the concern ever be ona paying basis I intend to repay him not only all he advanced me but anyprofit I may secure shall be divided with him in gratitude. That therewill be a profit I very much doubt, though this does not lessen mygratitude to Captain Poland for his aid."
There was a little gasp from Viola as she heard this.
"Captain Poland saved father from possible ruin," she murmured, "andI--I treated him so! Oh! oh!"