THE VEILED LADY
As soon as that huddled mass of womanhood that was Mrs. De Peyster had
become sufficiently reanimated to be able to think, its first thought
came in the form of an unuttered wail.
She was dead! She was to be buried! She could never come home again!
Or if she did come home, what a scandal! A scandal out-scandalizing
anything of which she had ever dreamed! A scandal worse ten times than
the very grave itself!
With loose face and glazed eyes she stared at Matilda while the latter
stammered out disjointed details of the past week's happenings. As
for Mr. Jack's lark in dwelling surreptitiously with his wife in his
mother's house, not a breath of that had reached the public. With Mr.
Pyecroft's aid, and Judge Harvey's, he had managed this well. He had
told the reporters that he had been quietly married over three weeks
before, that he and his wife had been living in seclusion, and that on
learning of his mother's demise they had come to the house to direct
the obsequies.... Those Paris police were trying to solve the mystery
of what had become of Mrs. De Peyster's trunks.... If Mrs. De Peyster
could only see the beautiful floral tributes that were arriving,
particularly the large wreath sent by Mrs. Allistair--
But Mrs. De Peyster heard none of this. She was dead! She was to be
buried! She could never come home again!
At length her lips moved--slowly, stiffly, as might the lips of a dead
person.
"What are we going to do?"
"I've been saying that same question to myself for days, ma'am,"
quavered Matilda. "And I--I don't see any answer."
No, there was nothing she could do. Mrs. De Peyster continued her
glazed stare at her faithful serving-woman. In the first few minutes
her mind had been able to take in the significance only to herself of
this culminating disaster. But now its significance to another person
shivered through that her being.
Poor--poor Olivetta!
For Olivetta, of course, it was. Mrs. De Peyster knew what was due
the De Peyster corpuscles that moved in stately procession along the
avenues of her blood, and was not neglectful to see that that due was
properly observed; but the heart from which those corpuscles derived
their impulse was, as Judge Harvey had once said, in its way the
kindest sort of heart. And now, for a few minutes, all that her heart
could feel was felt for Olivetta.
But for a few minutes only. Then Olivetta, and all concerns beyond
the immediate moment, were suddenly forgotten. For in the hall without
soft footsteps were heard, and the instant after, upon her door, there
sounded an ominous scratching--a sound like a key in an agitated hand
searching for its appointed hole.
Mrs. De Peyster rose up and clutched Matilda's arm, and stood in rigid
terror.
"Tha--that key?" chattered Matilda. "Can--can it fit?"
"There were only two keys," breathed Mrs. De Peyster. "Mine here, and
the one I gave to Olivetta."
"Then it can't fit, since Miss Olivetta's--"
But the key gave Matilda the lie direct by slipping into the lock.
The two women clung to one another, knowing that the end had come,
wondering who was to be their exposer. The bolt clicked back, the door
swung open, and--
And into the dusky room there tottered a rather tall, heavily
veiled, feminine figure. It did not gaze at the shrinking couple in
astoundment. It did not launch into exclamation at its discovery.
Instead, it sank weakly down into the nearest chair.
"Oh!" it moaned. "Oh! Oh! Oh!"
"Who--who are you?" huskily demanded Mrs. De Peyster.
"Oh! Oh!" moaned the figure. "Isn't it terrible! Isn't it terrible!
But I didn't mean to do it--I didn't mean to do it, Caroline!"
"It's not--not Olivetta?" gasped Mrs. De Peyster.
"It was an accident!" the figure wailed on. "I couldn't help myself.
And if you knew what I've gone through to get here, I know you'd
forgive me."
Mrs. De Peyster had lifted the veil up over the hat.
"Olivetta! Then--after all--you're not dead!"
"No--if I only were!" sobbed Olivetta.
"Then who is that--that person who's coming here this morning?"
"I don't know!" Then Olivetta's quavering voice grew hard with
indignation. "It's somebody who's trying to get a good funeral under
false pretenses!"
"But the papers said the body had on my clothes."
"Yes--I suppose it must have had."
"But how--" Mrs. De Peyster recalled their precarious position.
"Matilda, lock the door. But, Olivetta, how could it ever, ever have
happened?"
"I followed your directions--and got to Paris all right--and
everything was going splendid--and I was beginning to enjoy
myself--when--when--Oh, Caroline, I--I--"
"You what?" demanded Mrs. De Peyster.
"I lost my purse!" sobbed Olivetta.
"Lost your purse?"
"I left it in a cab when I went to the Louvre. And in it was all my
money--my letter of credit--everything!"
"Olivetta!"
"And I didn't dare cable you for more. For if I had sent a cable to
you here, it might have betrayed you."
"And what did you do?"
"There was nothing for me to do but to--to--sell some of your gowns."
"Oh!" Mrs. De Peyster was beginning dimly to see the drift of things.
Olivetta's mind wandered to another phase of her tribulations.
"And the price I got for them was a swindle, Caroline. It was--it was
a tragedy! For your black chiffon, and your silver satin, and your
spangled net--"
"But this person they took for me?" interrupted Mrs. De Peyster.
"Oh, whoever she is, she must have bought one of them. She could have
bought it for nothing--and that Frenchman who cheated me--would have
doubled his money. And after she bought it--she--she"--Olivetta's
voice rang out with hysterical resentment--"she got us all into this
trouble by walking into the Seine. It's the most popular pastime
in Paris, to walk into the Seine. But why," ended Olivetta with a
spiteful burst,--"why couldn't she have amused herself in her own
clothes? That's what I want to know!"
"And then? What did you do?" breathed Mrs. De Peyster.
"When it came out three days later that it was you, I was so--so
frightened that I didn't know what to do. I didn't dare deny the
report, for that would have been to expose you. And I didn't dare
cable to you that it was all a mistake and that I was all right,
for that would have been just as bad. Perhaps I might have acted
differently, but I--well, I ran away. I crossed to London with your
trunks. There I learned that--that they were sending your remains
home. I realized I had to get you word somehow, and I realized the
only way was for me to come and tell you. So I sold some more of your
gowns, and just caught the Mauretania, and here I am."
So ending, Olivetta, as though her bones had melted, subsided into
a gelatinous heap of dejection, dabbing her crimson eyes with a
handkerchief already saturated with liquid woe.
"It's a relief to know it wasn't you," said Mrs. De Peyster.
"I'm sure--it's kind of you--to say so," snuffled Olivetta gratefully.
"But, aside from your being safe, our situation is unchanged," said
Mrs. De Peyster in tremulous, awe-stricken tone. "For that--that
person is coming here just the same!"
"I know. The horrid interloper!"
"She may be here any minute," said Mrs. De Peyster. "What are we going
to do?"
"We must think of something quick," spoke up Matilda nervously. "For
it's almost time for your funeral, ma'am, and after that--"
"I've been thinking all the voyage over," broke in Olivetta. "And I
could think of only one plan."
"And that?" Mrs. De Peyster eagerly inquired.
There was an excited, desperate light in Olivetta's flooding eyes.
"Couldn't you manage, in some way, while nobody is looking, to slip
into that Frenchwoman's place; and then, before the ceremony was over,
you could sit up and say you'd been in a cataleptic fit. Such things
have happened. I've read about them."
"Absurd, Olivetta! Quite absurd!" quavered Mrs. De Peyster.
"I dare say it is," agreed Olivetta, subsiding again into her limp
misery. "Oh, why did I ever go to Paris! I hate the place!"
"Don't give way; think!" commanded Mrs. De Peyster, who was in a
condition not far removed from Olivetta's. "Think, Matilda!"
"Yes, ma'am," said Matilda obediently.
"You think, Caroline," whimpered Olivetta. "You always had such a
superior intellect, and were always so equal to every emergency."
Mrs. De Peyster thus reminded of what was expected of her life-long
leadership, tried to collect her scattered forces, and sat with
pale, drawn, twitching face, staring at her predicament--and her two
faithful subjects sat staring at her, waiting the inspired idea for
escape that would fall from her never-failing lips. Moment after
moment of deepest silence followed.
At length Mrs. De Peyster spoke.
"There are only two ways. First, for me to go down and disclose
myself--"
"But the scandal! The humiliation!" cried Olivetta.
"Yes, that first way will never do," said Mrs. De Peyster. "The second
way is not a solution; it is only a means to a possible solution. But
before I state the way, I must ask you, Olivetta, if any one saw you
come in?"
"There were a number of people coming and going, people preparing for
the funeral--but I watched my chance, and used my latch-key, and I'm
sure no one connected with the house saw me."
"That is good. If any outsiders saw you, they will merely believe that
you also were some person concerned in the funeral. As for my plan, it
is simple. You must both slip out of here unseen; you, Olivetta,
will, of course, say that you have returned to the city to attend my
funeral. From the outside you both must help me."
"Yes. But you, Caroline?" said Olivetta.
"As for me, I must stay here, quietly, just as I have done for the
last three weeks. I still have some supplies left. After everything
has quieted down, I shall watch my chance, and steal out of the house
late some night. That's as far as I have planned, but once away I can
work out some explanation for the terrible mistake and then come home.
That seems the only way; that seems the only chance."
"You always were a wonder!" cried Olivetta admiringly.
"Then you agree to the plan?"
"Of course!"
"And you, Matilda?"
"Of course, ma'am."
Thus praised and seconded, Mrs. De Peyster resumed some faint shadow
of her accustomed dignity.
"Very well, then. You must both leave here this instant."
Olivetta threw her arms about her cousin's neck.
"Good-bye, Caroline," she quavered. "You really have no hard feelings
against me?"
"No, none. You must go!" said Mrs. De Peyster.
"I'm sure, with you in charge, it's all going to come out right!" said
the clinging Olivetta hopefully.
"You must really go!" And Mrs. De Peyster pressed her and Matilda
toward the door.
But midway to the door the trio halted suddenly. Coming up the
stairway was the sound of hurried feet--of many pairs of feet.
The footsteps came through the hall. The trio did not breathe. The
footsteps paused before the sitting-room door. The confederates
gripped each others' arms.
"Are you sure you saw that person come in here?" they heard a voice
ask--Jack's voice.
"I'm certain." The voice that answered was Mary's.
"I'll bet it was a sneak thief," said a third voice--Mr. Pyecroft's.
"To slip into a house at a funeral, or a wedding, when a lot of people
are coming and going--that's one of their oldest tricks." He turned
the knob, and finding the door locked, shook it violently. "Open up,
in there!" he called.
The three clung to one another for support.
"Better open up!" called a fourth voice--Judge Harvey's. "For we know
you're in there!"
Breathless, the trembling conspirators clung yet more desperately.
"But how could she get in?" queried the excited voice of Mary. "I
understood that Mrs. De Peyster locked the door before she went away."
"Skeleton key," was Mr. Pyecroft's brief explanation. "Mrs. De
Peyster, we three will watch the door to see she doesn't get
out--there may have been more than one of her. You go and telephone
for a locksmith and the police."
"All right," said Mary.
"It's--it's all over!" breathed Mrs. De Peyster.
"Oh, oh! What shall we ever do?" wailed Olivetta, collapsing into a
chair.
"The police!--she mustn't go!" gasped Mrs. De Peyster. "Open the door,
Matilda, quick!" Then in a weak, quavering voice she called to her
besiegers:--
"Wait!"
After which she wilted away into the nearest chair--which chanced to
be directly beneath the awesome, unbending, blue-blue-blooded Mrs.
De Peyster of the golden frame, whose proud composure it was beyond
things mortal to disturb.