Interviewing Mrs. LaRauche did not prove as difficult as we had
anticipated. At ten o'clock--McGinity and I were still in bed--the
manservant I had installed at the LaRauche house, telephoned that Mrs.
LaRauche was feeling much stronger, and was most anxious to see Henry
and me on a matter of very urgent business; and would we please bring
along the village Chief of Police, also the young newspaper reporter
who had accompanied the officer and me to the house the night before.
At eleven o'clock, we drove off. On our way through the village, we
picked up Chief Meigs, and the first thing he did after boarding the
car was to give me a wink, and mutter: "Screws!" Henry was pallid and
trembling. He had been deeply shocked when he learned of Orkins' death.
He seemed to have aged ten years during the night.
McGinity was in a state of excitement. After a late and hasty
breakfast, he and Pat had taken a stroll on the terrace. In spite of
the tragedies and excitement, Pat had come downstairs looking as fresh
and as bright as I had ever known her. I met them as I came out to get
into the car. McGinity had just reached out to take her hand in his,
and she had not drawn it away. She seemed a little breathless.
The strain of the past twenty-four hours, and loss of sleep, had
been too much for me. As we breezed along in the crisp, morning air,
I was no more capable of keeping my eyes open than I was of writing
poetry. My conversation was limited to monosyllabic answers; between
monosyllables, I fell into a light doze.
Nearing the LaRauche place, I became more wide-awake, and began to
speculate whether Mrs. LaRauche knew, and was in a position to tell,
the whole truth. Doubt had entered my mind. Even after we had been
admitted into the house, and had gathered around her, in a sitting-room
adjoining her bedchamber, I felt certain that she would be able to
contribute very little to the sum of information which we had.
She was dressed in a dark morning gown, and seated in an easy chair.
The heavy window curtains were drawn, to save her eye-sight, after long
imprisonment in a darkened room. In the dim glow of a shaded lamp,
her face appeared pale and worn. Yet her poise was serene; to all
appearances, she was very much mistress of herself. This was a great
relief to me. I was afraid we would have a quivering, sobbing woman on
our hands, and the thought was terrifying. Only once, when she grasped
Henry's hand, on our arrival, did she show that she was under a strain
which was almost at a breaking point.
She was a comely woman, even in her present pitiable state, and she had
the voice of a woman of refinement and education. I had often wondered
why she had married a man so much older than herself, and so eccentric.
She was LaRauche's second wife. God knows what became of the first one!
After we had quietly taken seats, Chief Meigs broke the tension of
silence. "Do you feel strong enough to answer our questions, Mrs.
LaRauche?" he inquired.