Bonnie Dundee's heart leaped, but he forced himself to go softly. "I
suppose," he said casually, "a fashionable school like this has plenty
of carefully hushed-up scandals----"
"I'll say it has!" Miss Earle retorted inelegantly, and with ghoulish
satisfaction. "_Money_ can do anything! It makes my blood simply boil
when I think of how those Forsyte girls in Hamilton--so smug and
snobbish in their hick town 'society'--must be running poor Nita down,
now that she's dead and can't defend herself!... If the truth were only
known about some of _them_----"
Dundee could almost have embraced the homely, life-soured spinster--she
was making his task so easy for him.
"I've met them all, of course, since Mrs. Selim was murdered," he said
deprecatingly, "and I must say they seem to be remarkably fine women and
girls----"
"Oh _are_ they?" Miss Earle snorted. "Flora Hackett--Mrs. Tracey Miles
she is now--didn't happen to tell you the nice little fuss _she_ kicked
up when she was here, did she? Oh, no! I guess not!"
"She looks," Dundee agreed, "like a girl who would have made things
lively."
"I'll say so! Miss Pendleton nearly had nervous prostration!" Miss Earle
plunged on, then fear blanched her face for a moment. "You know you've
promised you'll never tell Miss Pendleton or Miss Macon that you talked
to me!"
"You can depend on it that I will protect you," Dundee assured her.
"When did Flora Hackett kick up her little fuss?"
"Let's see.... Flora graduated in June, 1920," Miss Earle obliged
willingly. "So it must have been in 1919--yes, because she had one more
year here. Of course they let her come back!... _Money!_... She took the
lead in our annual Easter play in 1919, and just because Serena Hart
complimented her and told her she was almost as good as a
professional--"
"_Serena Hart!_" Dundee wonderingly repeated the name of one of
America's most popular and beloved stage stars.
"Yes--Serena Hart," Miss Earle repeated proudly. "She was a Forsyte
girl, too, and of course she _did_ go into the chorus herself, after she
graduated in--let's see--1917, because it was the second year after I'd
come to work here--and Miss Pendleton nearly died, because she was
afraid Forsyte's precious prestige would be lowered, but when Serena
became a star everything was grand, of course, and Forsyte was proud to
claim her.... Anyway, Serena comes to the Easter play every year she
can, if she isn't in a Broadway play herself, of course, and so she saw
Flora acting in the Easter play in 1919, and told her she was awfully
good. She was, too, but not half the actress that little Penny Crain
was, when she had the lead in the play four or five years ago."
Dundee's heart begged him to ask for more details of Penny's triumph,
but his job demanded that he keep the now too-voluble Miss Earle to the
business in hand.
"And Flora Hackett----?" he prompted.
"Well, the next day after the play the Easter vacation began, you know,
and Flora _forged_ a letter from her father, giving her permission to
spend the ten-days' Easter holiday with one of the girls who lived in
Atlanta," Miss Earle continued, with great relish. "Well, sir, right in
the middle of the holidays, here came her father and mother--they were
both alive then--and asked for Flora! They wired the girl in Atlanta,
and Flora wasn't there, and the Hacketts were nearly crazy. But as luck
would have it, Mr. Hackett ran into a friend of theirs on Broadway, and
this friend began to tease Mr. Hackett about his daughter's being a
chorus girl!"
"A chorus girl!" Dundee echoed, taking care not to show his
disappointment.
"Of course they nabbed her right out of the show, but that wasn't the
worst of it!" Miss Earle went on dramatically and mysteriously. "They
tried to hush it up, of course, but the word went through the school
like wildfire that Flora wasn't only in the chorus, but that she was
_living with an actor_ she'd been writing fan letters to long before the
Easter play went on!"
"Did you hear his name?" Dundee asked.
"No," Miss Earle acknowledged regretfully. "But I'll bet anything it was
the truth!... Why, Flora Hackett was so man-crazy she flirted
scandalously with every male teacher in the school. The golf 'pro' we
had then got so scared of her he quit his job!"
"I suppose," Dundee prompted craftily, "she wasn't any worse than some
of the other Hamilton girls."
"We-ell," Miss Earle admitted reluctantly, "nothing ever _came out_ on
any of the others, but it looked mighty funny to me when Janet Raymond's
mother took her out of school right in the middle of a term and hauled
her off to Europe _for a whole year_!... I guess,"--she suggested, with
raised eyebrows, "you know what it _usually_ means when a girl has to
spend a whole year abroad, and her mother says she's taking her away for
her health--and Janet looking as healthy as any other girl in the
school, except that she was crying half the time, and smuggling special
delivery letters in and out by one of the maids--"
"Did you tell Nita these stories and point out the pictures of the
girls?" Dundee had to risk asking.
Miss Earle froze instantly. "Naturally she was interested in the school,
and once when she said it always made her mad the way chorus girls were
run down, I told her that in my opinion society girls were worse than
actresses, and--well, of course I gave her some examples, a lot of them
worse than anything I've told you about Flora Hackett and Janet
Raymond.... I hope," she added viciously, "that Nita dropped a hint or
two if Flora or Janet had the nerve to high-hat her when she was in
Hamilton!"
"Perhaps she did," Dundee agreed softly. "By the way, how did Nita
happen to get the job here of directing the Easter plays?"
"That's what the reporters wanted to know," Miss Earle smiled. "But Miss
Pendleton wouldn't tell them, for fear Serena wouldn't like it, and
maybe be drawn into the scandal, when everybody knows she's as straight
as a string----"
"Did Serena Hart get her the job?" Dundee was amazed.
"Yes.... Wait, I'll show you the letter of recommendation she wrote for
Nita to Miss Pendleton," Miss Earle offered eagerly. "Remember, now,
you're not to tell on me!"
She went to a tall walnut filing cabinet, and quickly returned with a
note, which she thrust into Dundee's willing hands. He read:
_"Dear Miss Pendleton: The bearer, Juanita Leigh, is rather badly
in need of a job, and I have suggested that she apply to you for a
chance to direct the Easter play. I have known Miss Leigh
personally for ten years, and have the highest regard, both
for her character and for her ability. Since you usually stage
musical comedies, I think Miss Leigh, who has been a specialty
dancer as well as an actress in musical comedy for about twelve
years, would be admirably suited for the work. Knowing my love
for Forsyte as you do, I do not have to assure you that I would
suggest nothing which would be detrimental to the school's best
interests.... Fondly yours, Serena Hart."_
"She was wrong there, but I know it wasn't Nita's fault," Miss Earle,
who had been looking over his shoulder, commented upon the last sentence
of the letter.
"Is Miss Hart appearing in a play now?" Dundee asked.
"No, but she's rehearsing in one--'Temptation'--which will open at the
Warburton Theater next Monday night," the secretary answered. "At
commencement Tuesday night, Serena told Miss Pendleton how awfully sorry
she was about Nita, and gave me tickets for the opening.... You go to
see her, but don't tell her _I_ told you anything.... I know she's
rehearsing at the theater this afternoon, because she said she would be
all week, and couldn't go to the boat to see Miss Pendleton and Miss
Macon off for Europe."
"I will!" Dundee accepted the suggestion gratefully, as if it had not
occurred to him. "But first I want you to come out to lunch with me. I'm
sure you know of some nice tearoom or roadhouse in the neighborhood."
During the luncheon, which Miss Earle devoured avidly, without its
interfering with her flow of reminiscences concerning the girls she
hated, Dundee was able to learn nothing more to the detriment of
Forsyte's Hamilton alumnae, but he did add considerably to his knowledge
and pity of female human nature.
It was nearly three o'clock when he presented his card, with a message
pencilled upon its back, to the aged doorkeeper who drowsed in the alley
which led to the stage entrance of the Warburton Theater, just off
Broadway near Times Square, and fifteen minutes later he was being
received in the star's dressing-room by Serena Hart herself.
"You're working on poor Nita's murder?" she began without preamble, as
she seated herself at her dressing-table and indicated a decrepit chair
for the detective. "I was wondering how much longer I could keep out of
it.... Of course you've been pumping that poor, foolish virgin--Gladys
Earle.... Why girls who look like that are always called _Gladys_--God!
I'm tired! We've been at it since ten this morning, but thank the Lord
we're through now for the day."
Dundee studied her with keen interest, and decided that, almost plain
though she was, she was even more magnetic than when seen from the
footlights.... Rather carelessly dressed, long brown hair rather
tousled, her face very pale and haggard without the make-up which would
give it radiance on Monday night, Serena Hart was nevertheless one of
the most attractive women Dundee had ever met--and one of the kindest,
he felt suddenly sure....
"When did I first meet Nita Leigh?" she repeated his question. "Let me
think--Oh, yes! The first year after I went on the stage--1917. We were
in the chorus together in 'Teasing Tilly'--a rotten show, by the way.
The other girls of the chorus were awfully snooty to me, because I was
that anathema, a 'society girl', but Nita was a darling. She showed me
the ropes, and we became quite intimate--around the theater only,
however, since my parents kept an awfully strict eye on me. The show was
a great hit--ran on into 1918, till February or March, I believe."
"Then do you know, Miss Hart, whether Nita got married during the
winter?" Dundee asked.
"Why, yes, she did!" Serena Hart answered, her brow clearing after a
frown of concentration. "I can't remember exactly when, but it was
before the show closed--certainly a few weeks before, because the poor
child was a deserted bride days before the closing notice was posted."
"Deserted!" Dundee exclaimed. "Did you meet her husband, Miss Hart?"
"No," Serena Hart replied. "As a matter of fact, she told me
extraordinarily little about him, and did not discuss her marriage with
the other girls of the chorus at all. I got the impression that Mr.
Selim--Mat, she called him--wanted it kept secret for a while, but I
don't know why.... This was early in 1918, as I've told you, though I
have no way of fixing even the approximate date, and New York was full
of soldiers. I remember I jumped to the conclusion that Nita had
succumbed to a war romance, but I don't think she said anything to
confirm my suspicion."
"When did she tell you of her marriage--that is, when--in relation to
the date of the wedding itself?" Dundee asked.
"The very day she was married," Serena Hart answered. "She was late for
the matinee. Our dressing-tables were side by side, and as she slipped
out of her dress----"
"This dress?" Dundee asked, and handed her the photograph of dead Nita
in the royal blue velvet dress she had kept for twelve years.
"Yes," and Serena Hart shuddered. "And her hair was dressed like that,
too, although she had been wearing it in long curls, and had to take it
down before she would go on for the opening number. She whispered to me
that she had been married that day, that she was terribly happy, very
much in love, and that her husband had asked her to dress her hair in
the French roll, a favorite hair-dress with him. Between numbers she
whispered to me again, telling me that her husband was 'so different',
'such a lamb'--totally unlike any man she had met on Broadway, poor
child.... For she was a child still--only twenty, but she had been in
the 'show business' since she was a motherless, fatherless little
drifter of sixteen.... No, she did not tell me how old he was, where he
came from, his business, or what he looked like, and I did not inquire.
As the days passed--weeks, probably, she became more and more silent and
reserved, though once or twice she protested she was still 'terribly
happy.' Then came a day when she did not show up for the performance at
all. The next night she told me--in just a few words, that her husband
had left her, after a quarrel, and had not returned. It seems that she
had innocently told him how she had 'vamped' Benny Steinfeld, the big
revue producer, you know, into giving her a 'spot' in his summer show,
and that her 'Mat' had flown into a rage, accusing her of having been
untrue to him. She never mentioned his desertion to me again, but----"
"Yes?" Dundee prompted.
"Well," Serena Hart went on, uncomfortably, "I'm afraid I rather forgot
poor Nita after 'Teasing Tilly' closed, for my next work was in stock in
Des Moines. After a year of stock I got my chance in a legitimate show
on Broadway, and one day I met her on the street. Not having much to
talk with her about, I asked her if she and her husband were reconciled.
She said no, that she had never seen him again. Then, in a burst of
confidence, she told me that she had hired a private detective out of
her meager earnings to investigate him in his home town, or rather the
city he had told her he came from. The detective had reported that no
such person as Mat or Matthew Selim had ever lived there, so far as he
could find out. I asked her if she was going to get a divorce and she
said she was not--that being already married was a protection against
getting married in haste again. After that, I rather lost sight of Nita,
and practically forgot her, our paths being so very divergent."
"And you never saw her again?" Dundee asked, very much disappointed.
"Oh, yes, two or three times--at openings, or on the street, but we
never held any significant conversation," Serena Hart answered, reaching
for her plain, rather dowdy little hat. "Wait! I was about to forget! I
had quite a shock in connection with Nita. One afternoon--let's see,
that was when I opened in 'Hullabaloo,' in which I made my first real
success, you know--I bought _The New York Evening Star_, which devotes
considerable space to theatrical doings, to see what sort of review the
show had got, and on the first page I saw a picture of Nita, beneath a
headline which said, 'Famous Model Commits Suicide'----"
"What!" Dundee exclaimed, astounded.
"Oh, it wasn't Nita Leigh," Serena Hart reassured him. "There was a
correction the next day. You see, an artists' model named Anita
Lee--spelled L-e-e, instead of Le-i-g-h--had committed suicide, and, as
the _Star_ explained it the next day, the similarity of both the first
name and the last had caused the error in getting a photograph from the
'morgue' to accompany the story. There was a picture of Nita Leigh, with
Nita's statement that 'the report of my death has been exaggerated,' and
a picture of the real Anita Lee."
"When did the mistake occur?" Dundee asked, in great excitement.
"Let me think!" Serena Hart frowned. "'Hullabaloo' opened in--yes, about
the first of May, 1922.... Just a little more than eight years ago."
Dundee reached for his own hat, in a fever to be gone, but to his
surprise the actress stopped him, a faint color in her pale cheeks.
"Since you're from Hamilton, and are investigating the murder, you have
undoubtedly met little Penelope Crain?"
"I know her very well. It happens that she is private secretary to the
district attorney, under whom I work.... Why?"
"I saw her play the lead in the Easter show at Forsyte four or five
years ago," Miss Hart explained, her face turned from the detective as
she dusted it with powder, "and I was impressed with her talent. In
fact, I advised her father, who had come from Hamilton to witness the
performance, as proud parents are likely to do, to let her go on the
stage."
"So you met Roger Crain?" Dundee paused to ask.
"Oh, yes.... A charming man, with even more personality than his
daughter," the actress answered carelessly, so carelessly that Dundee
had a sudden hunch.
"Have you seen Mr. Crain recently?... He deserted his family and fled
Hamilton, under rather unsavory circumstances."
"What do you mean?" Miss Hart asked sharply.
"Oh, there was nothing actually criminal, I suppose, but he is believed
to have withheld some securities which would have helped satisfy his
creditors, when bankruptcy was imminent," Dundee explained. "Have you
seen him since then--January it was, I believe?"
"January?" Miss Hart appeared to need time for reflection. "Oh, yes! He
sent in his card on the 'first night' of my show that opened in
January.... It was a flop--lasted only five weeks.... We chatted of the
Forsyte girls who are now in Hamilton, most of whom I went to school
with or have met at the Easter plays."
"Do you know where Mr. Crain is now?" Dundee asked. "I have a message
for him from Penny--if you should happen to see him again----"
"Why _should_ I see him again?" Miss Hart shrugged. "And I haven't the
least idea where he is living or what he is doing now.... Of course, if
he should come to see me backstage after 'Temptation' opens--What is the
message from Penny?"
"That her mother wants him to come home," Dundee answered. "And I am
very sure Penny wants him back, too.... The mother is one of the
sweetest, gentlest, most tragic women I have ever met--and you have seen
Penny for yourself.... The disgrace has been very hard on them. It would
be splendid if Roger Crain would come back and redeem himself."
Half an hour later Bonnie Dundee, in the file room of _The New York
Evening Star_, was in possession of the bound volume of that newspaper
for the month of May, 1922. On the front page of the issue of May 3,
under the caption which Serena Hart had quoted so accurately, was a
picture of a young, laughing Nita Leigh, her curls bobbed short, a rose
between her gleaming teeth. And in the issue of May 4 appeared two
pictures side by side--exotic, straight-haired, slant-eyed Anita Lee,
who had found life so insupportable that she had ended it, and the same
photograph of living, vital Nita Leigh.
When he returned the files he asked the girl in charge:
"Does this copyright line beneath this picture--" and he pointed to the
photograph of Nita which had appeared erroneously, "--mean that the
picture was syndicated?"
The girl bent her head to see. "'Copyright by Metropolitan Picture
Service'," she read aloud. "Yes, that's what it means. When _The Evening
Star_ was owned by Mr. Magnus, he formed a separate company called the
Metropolitan Picture Service, which supplied papers all over the country
with a daily picture service, in mat form. But the picture syndicate was
discontinued about five years ago when the paper was sold to its present
owners."
"Are their files available?" Dundee asked.
"If they are, I don't know anything about it," the girl told him, and
turned to another seeker after bound volumes of the paper.
"It doesn't matter," Dundee assured her, and asked for a sheet of blank
paper, on which he quickly composed the following telegram, addressed to
Penny Crain:
"PLEASE SEARCH FILES ALL THREE HAMILTON PAPERS WEEK OF MAY FOURTH
TO ELEVENTH YEAR OF NINETEEN TWENTY TWO FOR STORY AND PICTURES ON
SUICIDE ANITA LEE ARTISTS MODEL STOP SAY NOTHING TO ANYONE NOT EVEN
SANDERSON IF HE IS THERE STOP WIRE RESULT"
In his hotel, while impatiently awaiting an answer from Penny, Dundee
passed the time by scanning all the New York papers of Thursday and
Friday, on the chance of meeting with significant revelations concerning
the private life of Dexter Sprague or Juanita Leigh Selim united by
death--in the press, at least. There was much space devoted to the
theory involving the two New Yorkers with the murder of the racketeer
and gambler, "Swallow-tail Sammy" Savelli, but only two pieces of
information held Dundee's interest.
The first was a reminder to the public that certain theatrical columns
of Sunday, February 9, had carried the rumor of Dexter Sprague's
engagement to Dolly Martin, popular "baby" star of Altamont Pictures,
and that the same columns of Tuesday, February 11, had carried Sprague's
own denial of the engagement--Dolly having "nothing to say."
"So that is why Nita tried to commit suicide on February 9--and her
attempted suicide, with its tragic consequences for Lydia Carr, is
probably the reason Sprague gave up his movie star," Dundee mused. "Did
Nita let him persuade her to go into the blackmail business, in order to
hold his wandering, mercenary affections?... Lord! The men some women
love!"
The second bit of information which the papers supplied him was winnowed
by Dundee himself, from a news summary of Nita Leigh's last year of life
as chorus girl, specialty dancer, "double" in pictures, and director of
the Easter play at Forsyte-on-the-Hudson.
"If Nita got a divorce or even a legal separation from her husband after
her talk with Gladys Earle a year ago, she got it in New York and so
secretly that no New York paper has been able to dig it up," Dundee
concluded. "_And yet she had promised to marry Ralph Hammond!_"
A bellboy with a telegram interrupted the startling new train of thought
which that conclusion had started.