CHAPTER XVI
PHILIP VANTINE'S CALLER
It was a sordid story that Rogers gasped out to us; and, as itconcerns this tale only incidentally, I shall pass over it as brieflyas may be.
Eight or ten years before, the fair Julie--at least, she was fairerthen than now!--had come to New York to enter the employ of a familywhose mistress had decided that life without a French maid wasunendurable. Rogers had met her, had been fascinated by her blackeyes and red lips, had, in the end, proposed honourable marriage--quite unnecessarily, no doubt!--had been accepted, and for somemonths had led an eventful existence as the husband of the siren.Then, one morning, he awakened to find her gone.
He had, of course, entrusted his savings to her--that had been onecondition of the marriage!--and the savings were gone, also. Julie,it seems, had been overcome with longing for the Paris asphalt; nodoubt, too, she had found herself ennuied by the lack of romance inmarried life with Rogers; and she had flown back to France. Rogershad thought of following; but, appalled at the difficulty of findingher in Paris, not knowing what he should do if he did find her, hehad finally given it up, and had settled gloomily down to live uponhis memories. Some sort of affection for her had kept alive withinhim, and when he opened the door of Vantine's house and found herstanding on the steps, he was as wax in her hands.
Julie had listened to all this indifferently, even disdainfully,without denying anything, nor seeking to excuse herself. Perhaps theidea that she needed excuse did not occur to her. And when the storywas finished, she was quite herself again; even a little proud, Ithink, of holding the centre of the stage in the role of siren. Itwas almost a rejuvenescence, and there was gratitude in the gaze sheturned on Rogers.
"This is all true, I suppose?" asked the veiled lady.
"All quite true, madame," answered Julie, with a shrug. "I wasyounger then and the love of excitement was too strong for me. I amolder now, and have more sense--besides, I am no longer sought afteras I was."
"And so," said madame, with irony, "you are now, no doubt, willing toreturn to your husband."
"I have been considering it, madame," replied Julie, with astoundingsimplicity, "ever since I saw him here the other evening, and learnedthat he still cared for me. One must have a harbour in one's oldage."
I glanced at Rogers and was astonished to see that he was regardingthe woman with affectionate admiration. Evidently the harbour waswaiting, should Julie choose to anchor there.
"I have hesitated," she added, "only because of madame. Where wouldmadame get another maid such as I? No one but I can arrange her hair--no one but I can prepare her bath...."
"We will discuss it," said the veiled lady, "when we are alone. Andnow, perhaps, you will be so good as to tell us of your previousvisit here."
"Very well, madame," and Julie settled into a more comfortableposture. "It was one day on the boat as I was looking down at thepassengers of the third class that I perceived Georges--M. Drouet--strolling about. I was _bouleversee_--what you call upset withamazement, and then he looked up and our eyes met, and he camebeneath me and commanded that I meet him that evening. It was thenthat I learned his plan. It was to secure those letters for himselfand to dispose of them."
"To whom?" asked Godfrey.
"To the person that would pay the greatest price for them, mostcertainly," answered Julie, surprised that it should have beenthought necessary to ask such a question. "They were to be offeredfirst to madame at ten thousand francs each; should she refuse, theywere then to be offered to M. le Duc--he would surely desire topossess them!"
The veiled lady shivered a little, and her hand instinctively soughther bosom to assure herself that the precious packet was safe.
"That night," continued Julie, "in my cabin, I tossed and tossed,trying to discover a way to prevent this; for I had seen long sincethat M. Drouet no longer cared for me--I knew that it was upon someother woman that money would be spent. I decided that, at the firstmoment, I would hasten to this house; I would explain the matter toM. Vantine, I would persuade him to restore to me the letters, withwhich I would fly to madame. I knew, also, that I could rely upon hergratitude," added the girl. "After all, one must provide foroneself."
She paused and glanced around the room, smiling at the interest inour faces.
"You have at least one virtue--that of frankness," said the veiledlady. "Continue."
"It was not until evening that I found an opportunity to leavemadame," Julie went on. "I hastened here; I rang the bell; but Iconfess I should have failed, I should not have secured an entrance,if it had not been that it was my husband who opened the door to me.Even after I was inside the door, he refused to permit me to see hismaster; but as we were debating together, M. Vantine himself cameinto the hall, and I ran to him and begged that he hear me. It wasthen that he invited me to enter this room."
She paused again, and a little shiver of expectancy ran through me.At last we were to learn how Philip Vantine had met his death!
"I sat down," continued Julie. "I told him the story from the verybeginning. He listened with much interest; but when I proposed thathe should restore to me the letters, he hesitated. He walked up anddown the room, trying to decide; then he took me through that doorinto the room beyond. The cabinet was standing in the centre of thefloor, and all the lights were blazing.
"'Is that the cabinet?' he asked me, and when I said that mostassuredly it was, he seemed surprised.
"'It is an easy thing to prove,' I said, and I went to the cabinetand pressed on the three springs, as I had seen madame do. The littlehandle at the side fell out, but suddenly he stopped me.
"'Yes, it is the cabinet,' he said. 'I see that. And no doubt thedrawer contains the letters, as you say. But those letters do notbelong to you. They belong to your mistress. I cannot permit that youtake them away, for, after all, I do not know you. You may intend tomake some bad use of them.'
"I protested that such a suspicion was most unjust, that my characterwas of the best, that I was devoted to my mistress and desired toprotect her. He listened, but he was not convinced. In the end, hebrought me back into this room. I could have cried with rage!
"'Return to your mistress,' he said, 'and inform her that I shall bemost happy to return the letters to her. But it must be in her ownhands that I place them. The letters are here, whenever it pleasesher to claim them."
"I saw that it was of no use to argue further; he was of adamant. SoI left the house, he himself opening the door for me. And that is allthat I know, madame."
There was a moment's silence; then I heard Godfrey draw a deepbreath. I could see that, like myself, he was convinced that the girlwas telling the truth.
"Of course," he suggested gently, "as soon as you reached home yourelated to your mistress what had occurred?"
Julie grew a little crimson.
"No, monsieur," she said, "I told her nothing."
"I should have thought you would have wished to prove your devotion,"went on Godfrey, in his sweetest tone.
"I feared that, without the letters, she would misunderstand mymotives," said Julie, sullenly.
"And then, of course, without the letters, there would be no reward,"Godfrey supplemented.
Julie did not reply, but she looked very uncomfortable.
The veiled lady rose.
"Have you any further questions to ask her?" she said.
"No, madame," said Godfrey. "The story is complete."
Julie resumed her veil, shooting at Godfrey a glance anything butfriendly. The veiled lady turned to me and held out her hand.
"I thank you, Mr. Lester, for your kindness," she said. "Come,Julie," and she moved toward the door, which Rogers hastened to open.
Mr. Hornblower nodded and passed out after them, and Godfrey and Iwere left alone together.
We both sat down, and for a moment neither of us spoke.
"Well!" said Godfrey, at last. "Well! what a story it would make! AndI can't use it! It's a bitter reflection, Lester!"
"It would certainly shake the pillars of society," I agreed. "I'mrather shaken myself."
"So am I! I was all at sea for a while--I was dumb with astonishmentwhen I heard you and the veiled lady talking about the secret drawer--I could see you laughing at me! I don't know the whole story yet.How did she happen to come to you?"
I told him of Hornblower's visit, of the story he told me, and of thearrangement we had made. Godfrey nodded thoughtfully when I hadfinished.
"The story is straight, of course," he said. "Hornblower would not beengaged in anything tricky. Besides, I recognised the lady. I supposeyou did, too."
"Yes, I have seen pictures of her. And I admired her for putting backher veil."
"So did I. She has changed since the day of her wedding, Lester--shewas a smooth-faced girl, then! Three years of life with her duke haveleft their mark on her!"
He fell silent, staring thoughtfully at the carpet. Then he shookhimself.
"And the maid's story was most interesting," he added. "Nevertheless,there are still a number of things which are not quite clear to me."
"There is one thing I don't understand, myself," I said. "I hadn'tany idea this was the right cabinet. I didn't see how it could be."
"That's it, exactly. How did it happen, when the veiled lady went toArmand & Son in Paris, that she was directed to Philip Vantine?According to his own story, he did not purchase this cabinet; he hadnever seen it before; it was presumably shipped him by mistake;Armand & Son cable you that it was a mistake; and yet they citeVantine as the purchaser. There is something twisted somewhere,Lester; just where I'll try to find out."
"Which reminds me that Armand's representative hasn't been aroundyet. No doubt he can straighten the matter out."
"It won't do any harm to hear his story, anyway," Godfrey agreed."Now let's have a look at that drawer."
It was standing open as we had left it, and Godfrey pushed it backinto place, called my attention to the cunning way in which itsoutline was concealed by the inlay about it. Then he worked thespring, the handle fell into place, and he drew the drawer out again,as far as it would come, and examined it carefully.
"The fellow who devised that was a genius," he said, admiringly,pushing it back into place. "I wonder what its contents have beenfrom the days of Madame de Montespan down to the present? Loveletters, mostly, I suppose, since they are the things which needconcealment most. Don't you wish this drawer could tell its secrets,Lester?"
"There is one I wish it would tell, if it knows it," I said. "I wishit would tell who killed Philip Vantine. I suppose you will agreewith me that our pretty theory has got a knock-out blow, this time."
"It looks that way, doesn't it?"
"There is no poisoned mechanism about that drawer--that's sure," Iadded.
"No, and never has been," Godfrey agreed.
"And that leaves us all at sea, doesn't it? It leaves the wholeaffair more mysterious than ever. I can't understand it," and I satdown in my bewilderment and rubbed my head. I really felt for aninstant as though I had gone mentally blind. "There is one thingsure," I added. "The killing, whatever its cause, was done out therein the ante-room, not in here."
"What makes you think that?"
"We believe that Drouet came here to get Vantine's permission to openthis drawer and get the letters, no doubt representing himself as theagent of their owner."
"I think it's a pretty good guess," said Godfrey, pensively.
"Our theory was that, after being shown into the ante-room, hediscovered the cabinet, tried to open the drawer, and was killed inthe attempt. But it is evident enough now that there is nothing aboutthat drawer to hurt any one."
"Yes, that's evident, I think," Godfrey agreed.
"If he had opened the drawer, then, he would have taken the letters,since there was nothing to prevent him. Since they were not taken, itfollows, doesn't it, that he was killed before he had a chance at thedrawer? Perhaps he never saw the cabinet. He must have been killedout there in the ante-room, a few minutes after Parks left."
"And how about Vantine?" Godfrey asked.
"I don't know," I said, helplessly. "He didn't want the letters--ifhe opened the drawer at all, it was merely out of curiosity to seehow it worked. Only, of course, the same agency that killed Drouet,killed him. Yes--and now that I think of it, it's certain he didn'topen the drawer, either."
"How do you know it's certain?"
"If he had opened the drawer," I pointed out, "and been killed in theact of opening it, it would have been found open. I had thought thatperhaps it closed of itself, but you see that it does not. You haveto push it shut, and then snap the handle up into place."
"That's true," Godfrey assented, "and it sounds pretty conclusive. Ifit is true of Vantine, it is also true of Drouet. The inference is,then, that neither of them opened the drawer. Well, what follows?"
"I don't know," I said helplessly. "Nothing seems to follow."
"There is an alternative," Godfrey suggested.
"What is it?" I demanded.
"The hand that killed Drouet and Vantine may also have closed thedrawer," said Godfrey, and looked at me.
"And left the letters in it?" I questioned. "Surely not!"
He glanced at the shuttered window, and I understood to whom hethought that hand belonged.
"Besides," I protested, "how would he get in? How would he get away?What was he after, if he left the letters behind?" Then I rosewearily. "I must be getting back to the office," I said. "This isSaturday, and we close at two. Are you coming?"
"No," he answered; "if you don't mind, I'll sit here a while longerand think things over, Lester. Perhaps I'll blunder on to the truthyet!"