AN EXTRAORDINARY ERRAND
I fancy that in ordinary circumstances Mr. Maillot would have betrayed
some discomposure at the unintentional ridicule of this remarkably
pretty girl's _naïveté_, and furthermore, that the fact of his not
having done so at once perplexed and alarmed her. For a moment she
contemplated his worried countenance in round-eyed bewilderment, and
then glanced inquiringly at me.
Maillot, in a sober manner, presented me. The handsome brown-eyed girl
was Miss Belle Fluette; the other was her cousin, Miss Genevieve
Cooper. She, too, was strikingly pretty, but instead of brown, her
eyes were a deep and wonderful blue. Her hair was wavy and had many of
the bronze lights and shadows that lurked in her cousin's reddish
tresses, although it approached nearer a chestnut shade than auburn.
She was not so tall as Miss Belle, and was more reserved in her
demeanor.
Yet, in her sidewise regard of Maillot, there was a humorous, shrewd
appreciation of his damaged appearance, connoting worldly knowledge
sufficient to ascribe it to causes not precisely complimentary to his
sobriety. Both, however, were very lovely, and very jaunty in their
turbans and veils and long fur coats, while their cheeks glowed and
their eyes sparkled from the crisp wintry air.
Miss Fluette acknowledged the mention of my name a little distantly.
She made me feel that she had already surmised trouble, and that she
was disposed to hold me accountable for it.
Miss Cooper was more cordial. She was very gracious, in a quiet,
reserved way, and the expression of her blue eyes was so congenial that
I caught myself more than once attempting to steal a glimpse of her
countenance without her observing me, only to be disconcerted by a
candid and not at all shy regard.
"Can we not go at once, Royal?" queried Miss Fluette, doubtfully. "It
is dreadfully warm and stuffy in here. Jepson is waiting with the
carriage."
I understood clearly, of course, that my presence accounted for her
constraint. More than likely she would have given much to have got
Maillot away immediately; but he replied, with a gravity that did not
ease her mind:
"I 'm afraid not, Bell--not for some minutes. Mr. Swift and I have to
to discuss Mr. Page's death."
Instantly her countenance reflected a deep concern.
"It is true, then, is it, that your uncle is dead?" she asked in a
hushed voice.
His uncle! For the second time that morning I was staggered. Felix
Page's nephew and Alfred Fluette's daughter sweethearts! The two men
themselves bitter enemies! One lying cold in death--murdered! Is it
any wonder that I was stricken speechless?
"Don't look so astonished, Swift," Maillot was saying. "That is only a
part of what I have to tell."
"But--Felix Page your uncle!" I marvelled, as soon as I recovered my
breath. "Look here, Maillot, it's not often that I 'm so
thunderstruck; why have n't you told me this?"
"It's true," he said slowly; "he was my mother's brother. Neither of
us was particularly proud of the connection--not enough to brag of it.
I was meaning to tell you, though, Swift; it is an essential part of my
story."
He wheeled a chair up to one side of the table for Miss Fluette, and I
made haste to perform a like service for Miss Genevieve Cooper; an act
which she recognized with a slight smile and one of her friendly looks.
"Perhaps you and Genevieve had better get out of your wraps," the young
man suggested to Miss Fluette, "because I want you to hear all I have
to say to Mr. Swift; it will take some time."
She was now genuinely alarmed, and the handsome hazel eyes searched his
face with an apprehension and dread that made her love for him only too
apparent. Most young fellows, I hazard, would court any peril for such
a look from a girl as beautiful as Miss Belle Fluette.
And the blue eyes, too, mirrored anxiety; they turned to me in a quick,
questioning glance. I tried to disregard them--to ignore the presence
of these two pretty girls--and confine myself strictly to what Maillot
had to relate. It was not easy to do, since Miss Fluette's attitude
toward me had become not only openly accusatory, but more than a little
scornful; and I feared, moreover, that I should shortly lose the
support of Miss Cooper's sympathetic interest.
First of all, though, both young ladies were anxious for an account of
the tragedy--a task of which I relieved Maillot by relating briefly the
details as I understood them, but, of course, adding no comment that
might be construed as an expression of my opinion as to who might be
responsible. They listened attentively; but when I had finished, Miss
Fluette turned to Maillot as if I were no longer in the room. I
noticed that Miss Cooper's brow was gathered in a little frown--whether
of perplexity or disapprobation I could not determine--and that she was
looking fixedly at her cousin.
"Royal," said Miss Fluette the instant I was through, "is that--is Mr.
Burke here?" Unless I was very much mistaken, the abrupt lowering of
her voice which accompanied this question, the sudden narrowing of her
eyes, betokened a strong dislike for the secretary. So, then, Miss
Fluette was acquainted with him, was she?
"Yes, he's here," Maillot absently replied. Then a swift look--a flash
of understanding--passed between the two girls.
Both pairs of eyes, the brown and the blue, avoided mine--in a studied
effort, I fancied--when I glanced from one to the other to read further.
After all, I concluded, I was glad these two young ladies happened to
be present.
"The object of my coming here last night," the young man at length
began, "was known only to myself and Mr. Fluette, although I told Miss
Fluette the bare circumstance of my intention. My mission would seem
so absurd to any sane man, so utterly hopeless; it would be so
impossible to bring any one else to look at the matter from my point of
view, that my fear of ridicule stayed me from taking even her into my
confidence. It was this."
His voice dropped, and he had every appearance of one who speaks with
the utmost reluctance.
"I came to ask my uncle for the Paternoster ruby," he announced.
I merely waited, neither stirring nor speaking; not so the two girls,
however, who made no pretence of concealing their amazement.
"You asked him to _give_ it to you?" gasped Miss Fluette.
Maillot laughed bitterly, looking straight at me.
"I did," said he, as one convinced that he would not be believed in any
event. "I not only asked him to give it to me--after having stated my
reasons--but he promised to do so--this morning."
He seemed to measure our incredulity; to determine if its degree would
warrant him in proceeding. My own countenance, I know, told him
nothing; but it was obvious that the girls were assimilating his
startling affirmations only with the greatest difficulty. I watched
them curiously. They knew this young man perhaps better than any one
else, and their fresh youthful faces were a clear index to their
thoughts. Both were deeply troubled.
And now Miss Cooper, after a quick side-glance at me, spoke. Her voice
was remarkably sweet and soft, her whole attitude inexpressibly gentle.
"Royal," said she, "you are greatly wrought up; I think I know why; but
take your time, and keep nothing back. The truth is not going to hurt
you; lack of candor may be extremely harmful."
He responded to this appeal with a slight gesture and a rather wistful
smile; they reflected a certain hopelessness.
"Swift," he bluntly asked me, "have you ever heard of that confounded
ruby?"
I told him that I was pretty well acquainted with its history; but did
not tell him that I was cognizant of Alfred Fluette's association with
it. Neither did I say anything about my knowledge of the long-standing
enmity between the two men. I had already received more than one hint
that the causes of the tragedy were deep and powerful, whatever their
nature--I would have to find this out for myself--and I was extremely
curious to hear his story.
"Then you know of the contest several years ago in London for its
possession," Maillot pursued; "how Mr. Fluette coveted it for his
collection, and how my uncle thwarted his efforts to obtain it. Mr.
Fluette is very determined, and when his purpose is once set, it is not
an easy matter to change or sway it. He was bitterly disappointed,
though he never ceased hoping that some day he should acquire the
jewel; but knowing Mr. Page as he did, I believe he was in a measure
reconciled to a conviction that he would have to wait until the owner
died.
"As I have said, his failure to get the stone was a great blow--perhaps
more so than you can imagine; and, besides, my uncle stepping in in the
way he did and outbidding him seemed so like a bit of petty
spite-work--dog-in-the-manger, you know--that he could n't get over it.
The stone cost my uncle a cool five hundred thousand: a pretty big
price to pay for the indulgence of a personal grudge, is n't it?
"And now, Swift, knowing all this as I did--the strong aversion which
each felt for the other--if I should come to you and tell you that I
intended asking my uncle to give me his precious ruby for the purpose
of passing it on to Mr. Fluette, would n't you think I had become a fit
subject for a lunatic asylum?"
"Yet," returned I, calmly, "you say that you did this, and that your
uncle assured you he would give you the stone this morning--promised
after he had heard your reasons. I must admit that your present
declarations are very extraordinary; perhaps they will not seem so
after you 've recounted all the circumstances." And I added a bit
grimly: "I'm growing impatient to hear what moved you to come here last
night at all."
Once more the friendly blue eyes met mine, and I felt better for their
encouragement. But Maillot's look became momentarily apprehensive.
"You already know what my most cherished hope and ambition is," he went
on, with a glance at Miss Fluette. Their frequent frank exchange of
ardent looks would have made that ambition plain, had I not already
been apprised of it. "I 'm fairly well off by reason of a small
inheritance from my father, and I 'm just beginning to make certain my
foothold in my profession: prospects as good as most young men can
boast of, I don't hesitate to say.
"Our engagement, though, has never met the approval of Belle's father.
But that fails to express it: he has been actively opposed to me from
the very start. We had the support of Mrs. Fluette, however, and so
remained hopeful--until one week ago to-night."
He paused, staring gloomily at the table; and both the young ladies now
sat with downcast eyes and sober expressions clouding their pretty
faces, fairly enveloping the young fellow in their silent sympathy.
Lucky chap! Maillot should have stood a good deal, uncomplainingly,
too, for their deep interest in his welfare.
He looked up in a moment, and proceeded.
"At that time matters reached a crisis. Last Wednesday evening I
called, as I had been in the habit of doing whenever I found an
opportunity; and just as I was departing Mr. Fluette sent word to me to
come to his study before I left. For a bit we thought he had relented,
but on reflection I could n't entertain the idea; so, much dispirited,
I went at once to see him.
"He was walking up and down before the fire, and, further than to nod
his head toward a chair in a curt invitation for me to be seated, he
said nothing for several minutes, but continued to pace thoughtfully
back and forth between me and the hearth, as if pondering the best
means of opening his mind to me.
"At last he wheeled about midway in his promenade, and bluntly fired
his first question.
"'Why do you continue coming here?'" said he.
"The question stung me--of course it did; but I determined to keep my
temper at any cost, and before I left, to find out at least one
specific, definite reason why he did n't want me. I did, all right.
"Well, I laid my claims before him, pointing out that I was neither a
pauper nor a criminal; I told him that Belle and I sincerely loved each
other, and concluded by asking him whether he utterly disregarded his
daughter's preferences in her choice of friends.
"'Far from it,' he replied. 'But I certainly interfere when I think
she is exercising bad judgment in such a choice.'
"All at once he leaned forward and rapped sharply with his knuckles
upon the table-desk, before which I was sitting.
"'One thing you fail to take into consideration,' he said, 'whether
wilfully or not, I don't know, of course; but--to me--it is the most
important factor of all.'
"And now, for the first time, I could see that he was not only
possessed by a deep-stirring anger, but that he had been in a
white-lipped fury during the whole of our conference. He went on:
"'You are Felix Page's nephew. I would rather see my daughter in her
coffin--yes, a thousand times rather--than allied with a man who has a
drop of that hound's blood in his veins. That, Mr. Maillot, is my
final word.'
"These amazing words, spoken in a voice which trembled with passion,
left me speechless. But presently I rose and bowed stiffly, utterly
dumfounded by the intensity of his hate for my uncle, but nevertheless
keenly incensed and mortified at the injustice he was doing me.
"What had I in common with Felix Page that I should meekly bow my head
before the wrath of his enemies? Nothing whatever but that bond of
kinship, to which neither of the persons most interested attached the
slightest importance. Mr. Page had ignored my very existence--not that
I had ever looked to him for anything, because I hadn't; but during all
my struggles--through school, college, my efforts at establishing a
practice--he never by so much as a word or sign acknowledged that he
was aware that there lived anywhere on the face of the earth such a
person as Royal Maillot. He had quarrelled with my mother shortly
after my father's death--when I was only a kid--because she would not
take charge of his household on conditions which would have been
intolerable; and then he washed his hands of his sister and her child,
I fancy.
"'Mr. Fluette,' said I at last, 'since your objections are not worthy
of a man of your intelligence and ideals, I choose to think, therefore,
that you don't sincerely entertain them; they are grossly unjust to
Belle and me alike.' But he would n't let me go on.
"'Young man,' said he, in another wrathful outburst, 'I certainly
admire your cheek--advising me--in my own house, too--as to my
treatment of my own family!'
"For a second or two I returned his infuriated look; and then, resolved
not to stand there bandying words nor to be led into a quarrel with
him, I said:
"'I 'm sorry, Mr. Fluette--more than I can express--that you feel
towards me as you do. Nobody could be more ignorant than I am
concerning the nature of your feud with Felix Page--unless it is that
you are visiting upon me the consequences of his opposition to you in
the Board of Trade.'
"He spurned this supposition with a scornful gesture. So I continued:
"'I am glad to know it is not that; I could n't conceive of you doing
anything so outrageously unjust. Could anything be more unfair,' I
asked him, 'than to make me share all the animosities that Felix Page
has engendered? Why, he is scarcely better than a stranger to me; my
profound ignorance of his affairs is the best testimony that I can
offer in my behalf.'"
He paused a moment and tried to drive the distressed look from Miss
Belle's face with a cheering smile. He failed to do so, however, and
immediately proceeded with his recital.
"Well, I failed utterly to move him; but you will be more than merely
interested in what presently followed. Said he:
"'Admitting all that you say, you have brought forward nothing that is
to the point; the one over-shadowing, unalterable fact remains that you
_are_ Felix Page's nephew. Prove the contrary to be true--satisfy me
that you are free of that detestable blood taint--and you remove the
last of my objections to you as a son-in-law.'
"He fell to pacing the floor again, and then presently he stopped and
eyed me with a curious expression; I knew that he was turning something
over in his mind. When he spoke, his words surprised and puzzled me
not a little.
"'If you are so bent upon having Belle,' he said, there 's just one way
you may go about getting her.'
"Considering what he had already said, it is no wonder that I did n't
know what to say to this. I waited, and his next words betrayed the
real cause--at least, I took it to be the real cause--of his bitterness
and ill will. There was a sneer in every word.
"'Bring me the Paternoster ruby,' he said, 'and if, in the meantime,
she has n't acquired some of the intelligence with which I have always
credited her, why, you may take Belle.'
"After I got over being stupefied at the amazing effrontery of the
thing--if accepted seriously--I began to do some pretty tall thinking,
and I thought rapidly, too.
"'Is that a bargain?' I said at length.
"I spoke quite calmly and seriously, and he favored me with a surprised
stare. But he snapped out a curt reply.
"'It is,' said he. 'And I don't give a rap how you get it, either. I
wish you success.'
"Was I cast-down and disheartened? Swift--good Lord!--words can't
define my feelings. Sly disposition is sanguine enough, but when the
blue devils once do get hold of me--well, I 'm all in. I believe I
suffer more in the dumps than any other living mortal.
"But somehow or other, that mad proposal stuck by me; it followed me
persistently into the depths of my misery and colored all my hopeless
cogitations--if only I could get my hands upon that bit of crimson
glass! Great Scott, Swift! I believe, had I known where it was and
could have gotten at it, I would have stolen it. Yes, sir,
sardonically as it was advanced, the proposal to obtain the Paternoster
ruby was not to be banished from my mind, and in a day or two I found
myself weighing the chances of success.
"Well, the results in favor of accomplishing an undertaking so
foolhardy were, even when contemplated in the most favorable light,
exactly _nil_. And then there flashed into my mind a number of
questions which--and I trust you 'll believe me when I assert it--had
never come to me before: Who was my uncle's heir? To whom, when he
died, would the ruby go? Who, or what, was to benefit by all that vast
wealth he was so laboriously piling up?
"Now I had--and still have, for that matter--good reasons for believing
that I was the only living relative, and of course knew that if he were
to die intestate the whole of his property would pass to me simply by
operation of law.
"But suppose he _had_ made a will--was it likely that I had been
entirely ignored? The drawing of a will is a solemn matter to the
party most concerned, and at such a time the tie of blood is apt to
urge its claims in a still small voice--a mere whisper, maybe, but
astonishingly pertinacious. Therefore, was Mr. Page so indifferent to
his only living kin--had all the common feelings of humanity so far
evaporated from his heart--that he would remain deaf to that feeble
plea?
"The end of this line of thought was a resolution to call upon my
uncle, bare my heart to him, and then appeal to him on the strength of
our relationship and his loneliness, to aid me. Without presuming that
I entertained any expectations from him, still, if he meant to remember
me at all, I intended to urge my present necessities as out-weighing
every desire and hope of the future.
"Hopeless? Crazy? Of course it was! But I never would have been
satisfied until I made the effort. . . . Belle, I want to smoke."
He paused, and producing a cigarette, lighted it. But as it was plain
that he had not finished, his hearers were far too absorbed in his
surprising recital to break in upon the silence. Miss Fluette had
followed his every word with a light of love and sympathy shining in
her hazel eyes, which was undoubtedly exerting an encouraging influence
over the narrator; but Miss Cooper, I observed--and not without some
inward satisfaction--was covertly watching me, as if she would fathom
my thoughts and read the effect which the story was producing there.
And right here let me say that at the moment I would have been hard put
to it if suddenly called upon to define that effect.
First of all, Maillot had shown that he was keenly sensible of the
seriousness of his position, and in looking forward to the incredible
story he would have to tell, had realized that its entire trend would
mean self-incrimination. As he himself might have phrased it, he was
supplying me not only with a motive for the crime, but, from the time
of his conversation with Mr. Fluette forward, with evidence which
cumulatively inculpated himself.
So far, I had felt like one listening to a confession; as if all that I
had already harkened to was but a preamble to the tragedy which was yet
to follow. I may go still farther: the thought occurred to me that he
might be paving the way for justification for a deed of blood.
Convinced that the responsibility for Page's death lay between himself
and Burke, it would appear that he was adopting the only means of
getting out of a bad hole.
Still I knew in my heart that the denouement of his recital had at best
been only hinted at. Had he been under arrest, it would have been my
duty to warn him that whatever he might say could be used against him
as evidence. Yet I was bound to listen, to encourage him to talk, if
he would; but I could not help considering the effect this story would
produce upon the minds of a jury. I caught a wistful look in the blue
eyes; and then I told Maillot something of what was in my own mind.
"I know it, Swift," he at once returned. "But I believe my only hope
lies in placing myself unreservedly in your hands. I 'm going to trust
myself to your--"
A queer little sound from Miss Fluette--between a gasp and a
sob--checked him. She got abruptly to her feet, and fixed such a look
of aversion upon me, that I hope I may never again be the object of its
like. It is decidedly unpleasant not to be in the good graces of so
handsome a girl. The color ebbed quickly from her cheeks, her eyes
widened and her lips trembled.
"Royal," she said brokenly, but with an effort at self-control, "does
this--this man mean that you are suspected of--of your uncle's
_murder_?" And all her feelings were compressed into the emphasis of
that last word.
"Belle!" came in gentle chiding from Miss Cooper, "Don't! Can't you
see that Royal is trusting to Mr. Swift?" Then she too rose; she
passed round to her cousin's side of the table, drew a chair close up
to her and sat down. She took Miss Fluette's hand into her own, and
sought to draw her back into her seat, just as Maillot spoke up with a
confidence and assurance for which I could not help but admire him.
"Suspect me!" he cried amazedly, dashing the remnant of his cigarette
into the fire. "Oh, figs! Of course he doesn't, Belle; but--look
here: there are plenty who will. I want to make it plain that, in a
way wholly unintentional on my part, I have got myself mixed up in a
pretty bad mess, and then I want to make sure of Mr. Swift's
coöperation in my efforts to extricate myself.
"My dear Belle,"--a gentle note crept into his voice,--"please consider
the circumstances under which I came here last night; think of the
tragedy which followed so swiftly; consider the story I have to tell,
and then ask yourself, Who is going to believe it? God help us both,
dear girl, but this thing has all got to be brought out and aired in
public!"
The fine brown eyes searched my face.
"Do you believe that Royal Maillot is guilty of this monstrous crime?"
she asked me point-blank.
Before I had time to frame a reply, she once more sprang impetuously
from her chair, her face flushed and her eyes sparkling with anger.
"Answer me, sir, do you believe that?"
I replied, then, calmly, if non-committally:
"As Mr. Maillot has said, I am of a disposition to help him out of a
tight place, and I trust that his friends will not put unnecessary
obstacles in the way of working to that end."
She said no more. Poor Belle Fluette! She was to have my sympathy
more than once during the days that were to follow. Miss Cooper looked
at me a little apprehensively, but I read confidence in her eyes.
"Let Mr. Maillot proceed," I now said. "It is not fair to him to fail
at this stage to hear all that he has to say, providing he really
desires to continue. I want to ask one question, though, before you
proceed."
"Well?"
I glanced meaningly at Miss Fluette. "Considering all the
circumstances, can you confide in me with propriety--just now?"
"To be sure," he replied, promptly and earnestly; "as well now as any
time. You may readily imagine that to sit here and unfold affairs so
intimately personal is a matter of expediency and not of choice."
He had missed my point altogether; I wanted to spare the girl. But it
was n't for me to warn him of the complications which were likely to
arise from his disclosures.
"I can well believe that," said I. "Go on."