THE FACE IN THE ALCOVE
The first thing I noticed as I sped up the stairs was the absence of
Stodger from his post in the upper hall, where I had last seen him.
Only a few minutes previously I had peeped into the lower hall to
satisfy myself that everything was right; at that time he was leaning
on the balustrade, engaged in a desultory conversation with Officer
Morrison, stationed below. But in a moment I understood.
The bath room door stood wide open, and on the floor lay Miss
Cooper--lifeless, was my first horrified thought. Stodger, with the
best of intensions and the least possible capacity for carrying them
out, knelt helplessly beside her, under the delusion that he was
rendering first aid.
Instantly I lifted the still form from the floor and pillowed the sunny
brown tresses in the hollow of my arm. How light she was! How soft!
How lovely and tender! It was wonderful--a sublime revelation--thus to
feel the actual contact of her warm, yielding body.
But Heaven knows, I did n't stop to analyze my feelings at the time.
For a while I was shaken, panic-stricken, utterly unable to do more
than stare numbly down at the sweet pale face, framed in its nimbus of
wavy brown hair. I got a grip on myself, though, and Stodger was sent
flying to fetch Miss Fluette.
She came quickly enough, wondering and alarmed; and when she beheld me
holding her cousin, would have snatched her from me--with what biting
words I can only imagine.
But for once in her life, at least, that proud, wilful young lady bowed
without a murmur to the tone of authority; for one brief moment she
stared at me astounded, and in the next, as comprehension dawned,
melted. It is hard to say which of her two attitudes was the more
impressive: the flaming anger provoked by the sight of the unconscious
girl in my arms, or the tenderly sweet manner with which she presently
turned to minister to her. The voice which bade me leave Genevieve to
her care was actually gentle. Very reluctantly, I withdrew with
Stodger into the hall. Before I closed the door, however, I tersely
charged Miss Belle to give me as soon as possible the explanation of
the mystery.
The door closed, I turned upon my unoffending associate rather angrily,
I 'm ashamed to say; but Stodger's good-nature was imperturbable. He
could tell me absolutely nothing that threw light upon whatever
terrifying experience Miss Cooper had undergone.
He had remained at the spot where I had last seen him, he said; a
position he had assumed purposely, because from there he had a view of
practically the entire second story. He had opened all the doors so
that the slightest sound or movement in any of the chambers could not
fail to attract his attention. Immediately behind him, by simply
turning his head, he could see through the bath room, across the
landing at the top of the rear stairs, and into the small sewing-room
beyond. To right and left--east and west--the corridor extended the
width of the house, and an intruder could have gained access to any of
the rooms only by passing the watcher.
The sudden piercing scream, Stodger protested, had startled and
astonished him as much as it had anybody. He wheeled round to find the
bath room door so nearly closed that it was impossible to glimpse what
lay beyond until he had again opened it; which he had done promptly, he
declared, to behold only Miss Cooper. She was lying on the floor in a
dead faint.
Miss Belle called to me, after a minute or two of anxious waiting, and
I hastened into the bath room. Genevieve was so far recovered that she
was able to look wonderingly up at her cousin, a terrified expression
yet lingering in her eyes. Her face was white and drawn. Her cousin
was upon one knee, supporting her upon the other and holding her
tightly.
I knelt upon the other side, taking one of the little hands in mine.
Almost at once I was gladdened and relieved by seeing the sweet face
break into one of its lovely smiles.
"What was it?" I asked, anxiously enough. "Have you been hurt?"
"No, no," replied she, quickly, "not hurt--not in the least; only
frightened within an inch of my life." She shuddered, and made as if
to rise.
"Let me up, Belle; I 'm all right now--just a wee bit trembly from the
shock, maybe, but I can stand."
She tried to laugh and to make light of the matter, but the pale lips
and quivering muscles belied the attempt. I lifted her to her feet.
Her cousin remained close to her, keeping a supporting arm round her
waist and watching the white countenance with a passionate solicitude
that made me glance curiously at her.
Every action, almost every word, of this vivid, high-spirited girl
seemed to be an echo of her impetuous, wayward temper. Even a concern
as natural as that excited by her cousin's present plight, was charged
with an intensity which made me wonder what the effect might be if her
feelings were ever deeply or ruthlessly stirred. While her affections
were stamped with an immoderate fervor, one might readily enough fancy
her resentment, fired by a word perhaps, striking with a blind
vehemence that recked not at all of consequences. Her emotions,
apparently, knew no happy, tranquil, steadfast medium.
As we stepped into the hall, Genevieve was saying, "I 'll go with you
to the library. I merely got what I deserved, I suppose, for presuming
to think that I might accomplish something single-handed. But--oh, it
was dreadful!"
"What was?" bluntly demanded Miss Belle. "What silly notion ever made
you jump up and sail out of the room that way?"
Genevieve turned to me with a faint smile.
"The face at the curtains," said she.
"Face!" echoed Miss Belle, manifestly believing that her cousin's mind
was not normal. "For goodness' sake, Genevieve, what do you mean?"
But the girl continued to address me.
"You did n't see it?"
We had paused at the head of the stairs, two of us nonplussed and very
curious. I shook my head.
"When you left the room," said I, "I was too occupied otherwise to be
heeding the curtained alcove. I wondered, though, what sudden impulse
moved you--why you should have gone into the alcove at all."
"I knew that you could not leave the room right then," she explained,
the color coming quickly back to her cheeks; "I remembered our pact,
and I thought I saw an opportunity of being really of assistance. It
is not to be wondered at that nobody else saw what I did. It all
happened so swiftly. By the merest chance I glanced toward the alcove,
and at that very instant the curtains parted sufficiently for me to see
a face." Again she shuddered.
"Mr. Swift, it was the most hideous face I ever looked upon. Had I
been alone in the library doubtless it would have terrified me even
then. But instantly it disappeared, and without a thought of being
afraid, I hastened to investigate.
"As I got to the conservatory I saw the door at the farther end just
closing. It didn't slam--there was n't a sound--but simply closed
quickly before my eyes. Never for a moment did it occur to me that I
ought to be cautious; that closing door only made me run the faster to
learn who or what had closed it.
"Well, when I opened it, and the next door across the little passage, I
saw the same thing repeated in the bedroom beyond--a door closing,
apparently from its own volition. The same thing happened with the
door opening into the rear hall.
"It was maddening to be just so far behind and unable to gain the
fraction of a second which would enable me to find out who was fleeing
from me in such haste--maddening to be rewarded with no more than a
procession of closing doors.
"The chase continued on up the rear stairs, to the landing between the
bath room and the small room at the back; there for the first time I
felt a misgiving, and I hesitated. I was out of breath, my heart was
pounding until my ears roared; everything else was so deathly still.
"A glance told me that the rear room was empty of any living presence.
Cautiously I pushed open the bath room door; but it was too dark to see
inside."
"Was the door into the hall shut?" I interrupted quickly, remembering
that Stodger believed it to be open.
"Yes. I entered a bit timidly; all my assurance had somehow
evaporated. Then--then, before I had time to make another move, two
hands seized me.
"I was thrown violently against the wall, and one of the hands tried to
grasp my throat. I was fighting as hard as I could; but--I was
helpless.
"Then I screamed. I put my whole soul into it. Everything slipped
away from me, and I knew nothing more until Belle was holding me in her
arms and I felt her dabbing my face with water. . . . Dear girl, don't
look so tragic; I'm all right now."
While Genevieve hung close at my side, the inquest waited until I had
searched the place from cellar to garret. But never a trace of the
mysterious intruder did I find. When I became satisfied that he had
safely made his escape I asked Genevieve to describe the face.
"I 'm afraid I can't," she returned hesitatingly. "I had such a
lightning-like glimpse of it. Still, in a general way, it was very
swarthy and wrinkled--quite ape-like. The lower part was covered with
a short, curling, sparse black beard; the eyes were like"--she searched
for a simile--"like a snake's."
"That's graphic enough," I said; "but the description fits no
countenance that I can now call to mind."
"What can it mean?" she asked wonderingly.
"It means," I grimly replied, "that I guessed right: the ruby is in
this house. And I 'm going to have a time keeping it here, too, until
I find it myself."
The one mistake of the intruder, whoever he might be, had been in
peeping between the alcove curtains; of course he had been
reconnoitring only; but a person who could move through the house so
noiselessly might easily have accomplished, without discovery, whatever
errand brought him there.
The idea was positively uncanny and far from pleasant to dwell upon.
Stodger's hearing may not have been remarkably acute, but if my life
depended upon shutting that door so close behind him and not attracting
his attention, why, I should have hesitated long before essaying the
performance. To have the ruby lifted from under the very noses of the
watchers--while they were wide awake, too--would in all truth be a
sorry ending of our search for it.
For the nonce, however, the mysterious face introduced only an
additional problem; one upon which I had but little time, just at
present, to bestow thought. The drama in the library had been
interrupted at its most crucial stage. It was all-important that at
least one phase of the case be brought to a termination, however
unsatisfactory that termination might be, before anything else should
be undertaken.
After explanations had been made and order was restored, the foreman
did not proceed, as might have been expected, by reading the verdict.
Instead he jerked his head sideways toward Miss Cooper.
"Mr. Coroner," he said, "we 'd like to ask the young lady some
questions."
He was a poor specimen, that foreman; one of your little, officious,
meddling busybodies, as aggravating as the buzzing of a persistent fly.
"If they are pertinent to the inquiry," said Dr. de Breen, "it is not
only proper, but your duty to ask them. The young lady will be sworn."
At this unexpected demand she darted a startled glance from the foreman
to Dr. De Breen, and then looked at me--as I joyfully fancied, for
guidance and support.
I nodded--she could n't avoid the ordeal--and she bowed in
acknowledgment of the oath, which the doctor rattled off as if it were
all one long word.
And just here I am unable to refrain from pointing out how small an
incident will sometimes afford the turning-point for a momentous
crisis; such an apt illustration is presently to follow.
When interrupted by Genevieve's shriek of terror the foreman had been
in the very midst of pronouncing the concluding phrase of the verdict.
Had it not been for the strange face, had the venturesome girl not
followed the face's owner, who could say how differently events might
not have turned out? For I know now that the first verdict was quite
different from the one finally read.
The catechism which Genevieve was required to undergo follows:
"What is your name?"
"Clara Genevieve Cooper."
"How old are you?"
"I was twenty-one in December."
"We would like to know, Miss Cooper, what relation, if any, you bear to
the witness Maillot?"
"Merely that of a friend."
"How about him and the other young lady?"--an interrogation which
instantly made Miss Belle flush and bridle. But the witness was fully
equal to the occasion.
"I would n't undertake to speak for them," she replied composedly.
The succeeding questions brought out the relationship between the two
girls, and also established Miss Fluette's identity. Something akin to
a sensation prevailed in the jury-box for a few seconds after the six
good men and true realized that the handsome gentleman with the white
hair and dark beard was no other than the celebrated "wheat king."
Their manner toward his niece underwent a sudden transformation; their
attitude became more respectful.
Miss Cooper was dismissed, and Maillot was recalled. He denied any
formal engagement between himself and Miss Fluette; but it soon became
apparent, both from his manner and her growing vexation, pretty
precisely what the relations between them really were. The jury
learned that the young man's quest of the Paternoster ruby had not been
undertaken without the stimulus of a very warm-hearted devotion.
Maillot was left sitting in the witness-chair while a new verdict was
made out. It formally charged the young man with the murder of his
uncle.
I afterward learned, by questioning the self-important foreman, that
the first verdict had been an open one. The demand for Miss Cooper's
testimony had been prompted by the "diversion"--I am using his own
word--she had occasioned when she left the room, and afterward threw
the proceedings into wild disorder by her scream. The interrupted
verdict had failed to hold Maillot only by the narrowest margin; Miss
Cooper's adventure had served to turn the scale against him.
"Look here," I demanded warmly, "don't you believe what she said?"
He smiled with an air of such superior knowledge that I very nearly
cuffed his ears.
"Oh, I don't blame the young lady!--dear me, no!" he said, with a
smirk. "Loyalty, you know. What do you think of it?"
I had turned to move away, much disgusted; but I lingered long enough
to look him over curiously.
"What's your name?" I bluntly demanded.
"Griggs--Samuel B. Griggs."
"I think, Mr. Samuel B. Griggs--if you really want to know--that you
're a damned idiot."