Letitia smiled, shaking her head.
"No; but they think they do."
No two women of the same age and country could have been more utterly
different than the two mothers. Mrs. Rossiter, who must have been
rather pretty once, was still ruffled and jeweled like a young beauty;
and her diction, though not exactly baby talk, had in it a lisp
somewhat reminiscent of the nursery. There was a lot of gentle fussing
about her wrap and gloves and lorgnette and purse--and a photograph of
Roger she had been having framed for Letty, and a basket of fruit she
had brought from town. The little hallway was quite filled with the
effort of getting her settled. Mrs. Lewis, on the contrary, who not
only had been but still was as beautiful as a cameo, was also as quiet
as a statue, watching with a sort of icy wonder the long process of
unwrapping Mrs. Rossiter.
"Your dear little house," Mrs. Rossiter was saying, trying to blow the
mesh veil from between her lips, while she undid the pin at the back of
a frilled hat which would have looked equally well on a child of seven.
"It is a dear little house, isn't it, Miss Perkins? But you must let me
call you Nan. We all call you Nan--even Roger. He's so excited about
your coming home. He said to Letitia only yesterday, 'I feel as if I
had known Nan all my life.' Didn't he? You'll let me go up, dear, won't
you? One does get a little bit grubby motoring, doesn't one?"
She was led upstairs by her daughter-in-law.
Mrs. Lewis patted the hair behind her ear with a brisk gesture.
"I don't confess to any special grubbiness," she said with her
remorselessly exact enunciation. "Well, Nan, that's what sons do to
their mothers; almost consoles me for never having had a son. Letty
thinks she's perfection--that's marriage, I suppose. How do you think
Letty seems?"
"Wonderful--wonderfully happy, Mrs. Lewis."
"She ought to be. Roger is a very splendid person."
"You really like him?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Lewis as one facing a possible charge of
sentimentality; "yes, I really do."
"No criticisms at all?"
"Oh, come, Nan," answered the older woman, "remember who it is you're
talking to. When you find me without criticisms you'll find me in my
grave. I have endless criticism of him--of that cooing aged seraph who
has just gone up to powder her elderly nose--even of my own daughter;
but still, I do say that Roger is a fine man as men go--and that is
saying a good deal."
It was saying more than Nan had ever expected to hear Mrs. Lewis say of
her son-in-law, and she was content.
Presently the nose powderer came down, still cooing, and they went
in to luncheon. It was a pleasant meal. The little room was full of
sunlight; the Swede, though a poor linguist, was a good waitress; the
food was excellent, and the talk, though not brilliant, for it was
absorbed by Mrs. Rossiter, was kind and friendly; and Nan had been so
many years away that she enjoyed just the sense of intimacy. They were
talking about Roger--his health--how hard he worked.
"I really think," said his mother, shaking her head solemnly, "that you
and he ought to go abroad. I think it's your duty."
"I'm not sure Roger means to take a holiday at all, Mrs. Rossiter,"
answered Letitia. "You see, he did take two weeks in the winter when we
were married."
"If that may be called a holiday," said Mrs. Lewis. No one noticed her,
and Mrs. Rossiter pressed on:
"Not take a holiday! Oh, Letty, he must! You must make him! He'll break
down. Remember, he's only twenty-four. The strain at his age-- You
agree with me, don't you, Mrs. Lewis? If you had a son of twenty-four,
you would not want him to work steadily all the year round?"
"If I had a son," replied Mrs. Lewis, "I should be surprised if he ever
found a job. The men of my family have always been out of a job."
There was a ring at the front door and the Swede went to answer it.
"Now that Meta is out of the room, Lett," said her mother, "might I
suggest that you never allow her to answer the telephone? She always
begins the conversation by stoutly denying that anyone of your name
lives here."
Mrs. Rossiter gave a little scream of laughter and a gesture of her
hand with the fingers self-consciously crooked.
"Oh," she exclaimed, "how perfect that is! How exact!"
Mrs. Lewis looked at her coldly, as much as to say she had not intended
to be, and, as a matter of fact, had not been so humorous as all that.
Then Meta returned to the room, and with the manner of beaming surprise
which never left her--except on the rare occasions when she simply
burst into tears--she announced that there was a policeman in the hall,
come after Mr. Rossiter. At least, this was what she seemed to say; but
there was enough doubt about it to keep the two mothers fairly calm,
while Letitia ran out of the room to find out the truth
"Do you suppose he's met with some horrible accident?" Mrs. Rossiter
asked tremulously.
"More likely to have parked his car somewhere he ought not to have,"
answered Mrs. Lewis; but Letitia, knowing her well, saw that her secret
thought was darker than her words. All three women remained silent
after this, listening for some sound from the hall, until Letitia came
back. She was holding herself very straight and her face was white.
She came straight to the table and said in a low firm voice, "There is
some mistake, of course; but this man has come to arrest Roger."
"To arrest him!" cried his mother. "For what?"
"For murder," answered Letitia simply.
It is only men who break news with slow agony to women--women are more
direct in dealing with each other.
Mrs. Rossiter gave a little cry, and then all four were silent, and in
the pause Meta came in from the pantry and, deceived, by the quietness,
began to clear the side table.
When they were in the sitting room, with the door shut, Letitia
told them as much of the story as she had been able to get from the
policeman. According to his account, Roger had been not in Albany the
night before but in Paterson--yes, he did sometimes go there for the
company; but he never stayed there overnight. He had gone to a cheap
dance hall--no, not at all like Roger, though he did love dancing--and
afterward had gone to supper with a man and woman. She was a concert
hall singer, or something of the kind. There had been a row. The man
had first gone away in a fury and then put his pride in his pocket and
had come back--had drunk a cup of coffee of Roger's brewing--and had
dropped dead. The woman had confessed--
"It obviously isn't true," said Nan, and somehow her voice seemed to
ring out too loudly.
"Of course not," answered three voices in varying tones; and none of
them had the trumpet ring of complete conviction. Nan stared from one
to the other, and saw that each was busy with a plan to save him.
Well, that perhaps was love--to be more concerned with the dear one's
physical safety than with his moral integrity. When the first shock was
over, when they had had time to think, they would see as clearly as she
did that the whole thing was utterly impossible.
But they were not thinking it over. They were talking about telephoning
his office--whether it would be wise, whether the telephone wires could
be tapped. Mrs. Rossiter was pleading that something should be done at
once, and blocking every action that Letitia suggested. It was finally
decided to telephone his office. The telephone was upstairs in her
bedroom, and as Letitia opened the sitting-room door she revealed the
policeman on a hard William-and-Mary chair in the hall. He had taken
off his cap and showed a head of thinning fuzzy blond hair. He looked
undressed, out of place, menacing. Mrs. Rossiter was upset by the sight
and began to cry. Mrs. Lewis, who hated tears, cast a quick look at her
and followed her daughter out of the room.
Nan, left alone with Roger's mother, felt the obligation of attempting
comfort. She patted her shoulder.
"Don't cry, dear Mrs. Rossiter. It will turn out to be some stupid
mistake."
"Oh, of course, of course, it's a mistake!"
Mrs. Rossiter wiped her eyes bravely and put her handkerchief away.
"But he works so hard, Nan; up at seven and never back at home until
six--drudgery--and he's so young--so terribly young never to have any
fun."
And, more touched by her word picture of facts than by the facts
themselves, the tears rose again in her eyes.
"Some people would think it quite a lot of fun to be married to
Letitia," said Nan gently.
But Mrs. Rossiter only shook her head, repeating, "It's all my
fault--all my fault!"
"How can it be your fault, Mrs. Rossiter?" Nan asked a little sharply.
Mrs. Rossiter glanced over her shoulder to be sure no one had reëntered
the room while her nose was in her handkerchief.
"He never was in love with Letitia--not really, you know--not
romantically," she said. "And when a young, ardent boy like Roger is
tied for life--to an older woman--whom he doesn't really love--what can
you expect?"
This view of the case was so unexpected to Nan that she could hardly
receive it.
"Letitia believes he loves her," she said.
"Does she?" answered Mrs. Rossiter in a tone that made the question a
contradiction. "Or does she only try to believe it? Or it may be she
doesn't know what it is to have a man really in love with her. These
modern girls--"
"More men have been in love with Letitia than with any girl I ever
knew," said Nan firmly. "And unless your son has definitely told you
that he does not love her--"
"Of course he hasn't done that," returned his mother, more shocked at
the idea than she had been at the suggestion of murder. "He's loyal,
poor boy. It wasn't necessary for him to tell me. I know my son, Nan,
and I know love. There wasn't a spark--not one--on his side at least.
But she never let him alone; every day a telephone or a letter, or
even a telegram. He was touched, I suppose, by her devotion. That
isn't love, though. I might have saved him. I ought to have spoken out
and said, 'Dear boy, you do not love this woman.' I did hint at it
several times, but he pretended to think I was in fun. Nan, they were
like brother and sister--or, no, more like an old married couple--no
romance. If they had been married twenty years, you would have said,
'It's nice to see them so companionable.' Now it's only natural that
love should come to him in some wild and terrible form like this--an
outlet--the poor child." There were steps in the hall, and she added
quickly, "But, of course, I would not have them know I thought the
thing possible."
The footsteps belonged to Letitia. She entered, bringing word that
Roger had not been at the office; he had been expected about noon from
Albany--yes, they had said Albany, but it was only a clerk. They had
been expecting to hear from him, but knew nothing of his whereabouts.
Letty was too young to look aged by anxiety, but she looked like a
water color in process of being washed out. Not only her cheeks but her
hair and eyes, and even her skin, seemed to have lost their color. Nan
had never seen her friend suffering. She had seen her angry or jealous
or wounded, but never like this. Her heart went out to the girl. She
managed to get Mrs. Rossiter away to telephone to her son at his club,
on the unlikely possibility that he might have stopped there. Left
alone with Letty she said:
"My dear, I know just how ugly and painful this is; but do remember
that in a few hours it will all be explained and you will be telling it
as an amusing story."
"I know, of course," said Letitia, as if she were listening to a
platitude; and then she added, "Did you happen to bring any money with
you? You see, the banks are closed now."
Nan could hardly believe her ears.
"Yes," she said, "I have; but why should you need it just now?"
"I shan't need it, of course," said Letitia hastily; "but in times like
this you think of all sorts of possibilities. If we did have to leave
the country at a second's notice--"
Her voice died way under Nan's look of disapproval.
"Would you go with him if he did?" said Nan, wondering how a woman
could love a man so much and understand him so little.
"Go with him!" cried Letitia. "I'd hang with him if I could! Oh, Nan,
you don't know what it is to love a person as I love Roger! I believe
I could be perfectly happy exiled, hunted, poor, in some impossible
South Sea island, if I could only have him all to myself. While I was
upstairs I put a few things in a bag; I brought it down and left it in
the hall, and I thought that you could take it with you when you go.
That couldn't excite any suspicion, and then if I have to leave in a
hurry--"
Nan could not let her go on like this.
"Letitia," she said in a sharp tone, as if rousing a sleeper, "you
simply can't talk like that. You must believe in your husband's
innocence. Your face alone would hang him."
"I do believe in it," answered Letitia; "only I can't help seeing some
terrible coincidences. There is no one in the world knows more about
poisons than Roger does. He is always talking about the Borgias and
what they used. And after all, Nan, I was brought up to face facts.
There is a streak of weakness in Roger where women are concerned--a
certain vanity."
"There is in every man."
"And then, Nan, I love my mother-in-law; but I can't help seeing she
did not bring him up right. She spoiled him; not that she made him
selfish or self-indulgent--no one could do that to Roger; but she
did give him too much confidence in his own ability to arrange any
situation. He jumps into anything-- Oh, can't you see how he might
easily be led on to do something like this?"
"No," said Nan; "no. I'm not his wife--I never saw him, but I feel sure
he did not do this."
Perhaps her manner was more offensive than she meant it to be; but for
some reason Letty's rather alarming calm suddenly broke into anger.
"That's impertinent, Nan," she said. "Why should you always think you
understand better than anyone else? He's my husband. If you had any
delicacy of feeling, you'd admit that if anyone knew the truth about
him, I do--not you, who never saw him. It's easy enough for you to come
preaching the beauty of perfect faith. Don't you suppose I'd believe
in him if I could?" And so on and on. It was as if she hated Nan for
believing in him when she didn't.
Nan let her talk for a few minutes, and then at the first pause she got
up and walked to the door. "I think I'll go and sit with your mother,"
she said.
"Don't tell her what I've been saying--don't tell her that I have doubt
of Roger."
"You know I would not do that, Letty."
"I don't know what you'd do in your eternal wish to know more about
people than anyone else knows."
Nan left the room with a heavy heart. Did she want to be omniscient?
Was it impertinent to be surer of a man's innocence than his wife was?
Well, if he were innocent, Letitia would never forgive her--that was
clear.
She found Mrs. Lewis alone in an upper room. She was standing looking
out the window, her arms folded, her body tilted slightly backward,
while she crooned sadly to herself. As Nan entered she shook her head
slowly at her.
"The poor child," she said.
"Roger or Letty?"
"Oh, both; but, of course, I was thinking of my own."
"Mrs. Lewis, do you believe he's guilty?"
"No, my dear--nor innocent. I don't believe anything. I simply don't
know. When you get to be my age, Nan, you will understand that anything
is possible; the wicked do the most splendid things at times, and the
virtuous do the most awful. I don't know whether Roger did this or
not. He may have. It may even have been the right thing to do, although
poison--well, I'm surprised Roger descended to that."
With this point of view Nan had some sympathy, although she felt
obliged to protest a little.
"You said he was the finest man you had ever known."
"I thought so--I think so still--but what does one know about such
people? An utterly different class, a different background. I'm as good
a democrat as anybody, but there is something in tradition. Oh, I see
you don't know. Well, the father was a plumber. Yes, my dear, little as
you might think it, that ruffled marquise downstairs is the widow of a
plumber. How do we know what people like that will do or not do when
their passions are roused? It nearly killed me to have Letitia marry
him."
"I thought you liked the marriage, Mrs. Lewis."
"That's where I blame myself, Nan. I let it get out of my control. I
hesitated. I admired the man. He had plenty of money; and of course the
mother was delighted to get such a wife for her son, and made it all
too terribly easy. And then he was mad about Letty."
"Wasn't she mad about him too?"
Mrs. Lewis shook her head.
"Not at first; but he was always there--always writing and coming. I
don't suppose I ever came into the flat in those days without finding a
message that Letty was to call--whatever his number was--as soon as she
came in. He's a determined man and he meant to get her."
"She is tremendously in love with him now."
Mrs. Lewis sighed.
"Ah, yes, now, poor child--of course. Don't betray me, Nan. Don't
let those two downstairs know that I have a doubt. She's a sweet
creature--the plumber's widow--though to me irritating; and she
wouldn't doubt anyone in the world, let alone her darling son; and, of
course, Letitia does not think it possible that her husband can have
killed a man, especially for the sake of another woman."
"Have you ever heard a suspicion that there was another woman?" Nan
asked.
"No; but then I shouldn't be likely to. We three women are the last
people in the world to hear it, even if it were notorious."
Nan was obliged to admit the truth of this; and presently Mrs. Lewis,
fearing that her absence might appear unfriendly, decided to go back to
the sitting room.
Nan said she was coming, too, but stood a minute staring at the carpet.
What was it, she wondered, made her so passionately eager that Roger
should be innocent? Was it love of her friend, or pride of opinion, or
interest in abstract truth, or interest in a man she had never seen?
She had a strange feeling of a bond between her and Roger. As she went
slowly down the stairs, her eye fell again upon the police officer,
shifting, patient, but uncomfortable on the William-and-Mary chair. A
sudden inspiration came to her. She asked to see the warrant.
Well, it was just as she thought--not for Roger at all, but for a man
whose last name was Rogers, who lived in a house two away. The number
wasn't even right; but that was more the fault of the real-estate
company than of the police department. She took the officer outside
and showed him his mistake, and finally had the satisfaction of
shutting the door forever on that blue-coated figure.
She turned toward the sitting room. To break good news is not always so
easy, either. She thought of those three doubters, each one trying to
show the others how full her heart was of complete confidence.
Nan opened the door, went in, shut it behind her and leaned on the knob.
"Now, you three," she said, "you've been wonderful in bad times; try to
be equally calm in good." They looked up at her, wondering what good
news was possible, and she hurried on: "The policeman has gone. The
warrant was not for Roger at all."
There was a pause, hardly broken in any real sense by the sound of Mrs.
Rossiter repeating that she had always known it could not be true--had
always known it could not be Roger.
"Still," said Mrs. Lewis with an amused sidelong glance, "it is a
comfort that now the police know it too."
But Nan's eyes had never left her friend's face. Letty did not say a
word. She rose and stared straight at Nan, looking at her almost as
if she were an enemy. Nan knew that Mrs. Rossiter would forget that
she had ever doubted her son--had already forgotten and was crooning
her faith and joy. Mrs. Lewis had nothing to forget. She had merely
expressed an agnostic attitude; but Letitia had revealed to Nan the
very depths of her estimate of her husband--and she had been wrong and
Nan right. She would never forgive that.
Except for this change in the relation between the two younger women,
in five minutes it was as if the whole incident had never occurred.
Mrs. Rossiter was again the devoted mother-in-law, Letitia the happy
bride, and Mrs. Lewis was saying, "Which brings us back to the point I
was making when the fatal ring came--it is a mistake to let Meta answer
either the door or the telephone."
In a little while Mrs. Rossiter announced that she must be going, and
Nan was not surprised when Mrs. Lewis, who had had a few minutes alone
with her daughter, suggested that Nan should go back with them and
spend the night with her.
"But I promised Letty--" she began, and then glancing at her friend she
saw that she was expected to accept.
Letitia spoke civilly, kindly, as if she were doing everyone a favor.
"Oh, I let you off," she said. "Mamma is all alone, and I know how you
and she enjoy picking all the rest of us to pieces."
Nan hesitated rebelliously. It seemed hard that she was not to see
Roger just because she had understood him too well.