MR. PYECROFT TAKES CHARGE
The next moment a dozen reporters crowded into the room, the
redoubtable Mr. Mayfair at their head; and behind them could be seen
the pale, curious faces of William, Miss Gardner, and M. Dubois. Mrs.
De Peyster, Olivetta, and Matilda sat in limp despair. Judge Harvey,
Jack, and Mary gazed in breathless suspense and wonderment at Mr.
Pyecroft. As for Mr. Pyecroft, he stood before Mrs. De Peyster,
obscuring her, looking like one who has suffered a severe shock, yet
withal grave and composed.
"What's up?" demanded the keen-faced Mayfair.
"Before I answer that," said Mr. Pyecroft, "permit me to preface what
I have to say by touching upon two necessary personal details. First,
I believe, at least, you, Mr. Mayfair, have known me as Mr. Simpson,
brother of Mrs. De Peyster's housekeeper. I am not her brother. This
harmless deception was undertaken, for reasons not necessary to give,
at the request of Judge Harvey; he wished me to remain in the house
to arrange, and make abstracts of, certain private papers. The second
detail is, that I am speaking at the request of Judge Harvey, as his
associate and as the representative of the De Peyster family."
Judge Harvey felt his collar; Jack stared. But fortunately the room
was dim, and the reporters' eyes were all on the grave, candid face of
Mr. Pyecroft.
"Yes--yes," said the impatient Mayfair. "But out with the story!
What's doing?"
"Something that I think will surprise you," said Mr. Pyecroft.
"Something that has completely astounded all of us--particularly this
lady who is Mrs. De Peyster's housekeeper, and Miss Harmon, here, who
has just returned from a quiet summer in Maine to attend her cousin's
funeral. The fact is, gentlemen, to come right to the point, there is
to be no funeral."
"No funeral!" cried Mr. Mayfair.
"No funeral!" ran through the crowd.
"No funeral," repeated Mr. Pyecroft. "The reason, gentlemen, is that a
great mistake has been made. Mrs. De Peyster is not dead."
"Not dead!" exclaimed the reporters.
"If you desire proof, here it is." Mr. Pyecroft, stepping aside,
revealed the figure of Mrs. De Peyster. He put his right hand upon her
shoulder, gripping it tightly and holding her in her chair, and with
his left he lifted the thick veil above her face. "I believe that most
of you know Mrs. De Peyster, at least from her pictures."
"Mrs. De Peyster!" cried the staggered crowd. "Mrs. De Peyster
herself!"
"Mrs. De Peyster herself," repeated Mr. Pyecroft in his grave voice.
"You are surprised, but not more so than the rest of us."
"But that other Mrs. De Peyster--the one the funeral is for?" asked
Mr. Mayfair. "Who is she?"
"That, gentlemen, is as great a mystery to us as to any of you," said
Mr. Pyecroft.
"But how the--but how did it all happen?" ejaculated Mr. Mayfair.
"That is what I am going to tell you," Mr. Pyecroft answered.
Mrs. De Peyster struggled up.
"Don't--don't!" she besought him wildly.
Mr. Pyecroft pressed her back into her chair, and held her there with
an arm that was like a brace of steel.
"You see, gentlemen," he remarked sympathetically, "how this business
has upset her."
"Yes! But the explanation?"
"Immediately--word for word, as Mrs. De Peyster has just now told us,"
said he.
"Oh!" moaned Mrs. De Peyster.
Olivetta and Matilda gazed at Mr. Pyecroft with ghastly, loose-lipped
faces; Judge Harvey and Jack and Mary stared at him with an amazed
suspense which they could hardly mask; and Miss Gardner, with whom he
had not yet made his peace, breathlessly awaited the next move of this
incomprehensible husband of hers. Mr. Pyecroft kept his eyes, for
the most part, upon the shrewd, fraud-penetrating features of the
unfoilable Mr. Mayfair--his own countenance the most truthful that son
of Adam ever wore.
"What Mrs. De Peyster has said is really very simple. As you know,
she left Paris two or three weeks ago on a long motor trip. During her
brief stay in Paris, one of her trunks was either lost or stolen,
she is not certain which. As she pays no personal attention to her
baggage, she was not aware of her loss for several days. So much is
fact. Now we come to mere conjecture. A plausible conjecture seems to
be that the gowns in the trunk were sold to a second-hand dealer, and
these gowns, being attractive, the dealer must have immediately resold
to various purchasers, and one of these purchasers must have--"
"Yes, yes! Plain as day!" exclaimed Mr. Mayfair.
"The face was unrecognizable," continued Mr. Pyecroft, "but since the
gown had sewn into it Mrs. De Peyster's name, of course--"
"Of course! The most natural mistake in the world!" cried Mr. Mayfair
excitedly. "Go on! Go on!"
Mrs. De Peyster had slowly turned a dazed countenance upward and was
gazing at the sober, plausible face of her young man of the sea.
"Mrs. De Peyster did not learn of what had happened till the day the
supposed Mrs. De Peyster was started homeward. The most sensible thing
for her to have done would have been to declare the mistake, and saved
her family and friends a great deal of grief. But the shock completely
unbalanced her. I will not attempt to describe her psychological
processes or explain her actions. You may call her course illogical,
hysterical, what you like; I do not seek to defend it; I am only
trying to give you the facts. She was so completely unnerved--But
a mere look at Mrs. De Peyster will show you how the shock unnerved
her."
The group gazed at Mrs. De Peyster's face. A murmur of sympathy and
understanding ran among them.
"In her hysterical condition," continued Mr. Pyecroft, "she had but
one thought, and that was to get home as quickly as she could. She
crossed to England, sailed on the Mauretania, kept to her stateroom,
and arrived here at the house heavily veiled about an hour ago. I may
add the details that she sailed under the name of Miss Harriman and
that her trunks are now at the Cunard pier. There you have the entire
story, gentlemen."
He looked down at Mrs. De Peyster. "I believe I have stated the matter
just as you outlined it to us?"
"Ye--yes," breathed Mrs. De Peyster.
"There is no detail you would like to add?"
"N--none," breathed Mrs. De Peyster.
"Then, gentlemen," said Mr. Pyecroft, turning to the reporters,
"since you have all the facts, and since Mrs. De Peyster is in a state
bordering on collapse, we would take it as a favor if--"
"No need to dismiss us," put in Mr. Mayfair. "We're in a bigger hurry
to leave than you are to have us go. God, boys," he ejaculated to his
fellows, "what a peach of a story!"
In a twinkling Mr. Mayfair and his fellows of the press had vanished,
each in the direction of a telephone over which he could hurry this
super-sensation into his office.
Within the room, all were staring at Mr. Pyecroft, as though in each
a whirling chaos were striving to shape itself into speech. But before
they could become articulate, that sober young gentleman had stepped
from out of their midst and, his back to them, was discreetly
engrossing himself in the examination of the first object that came to
his hands: which chanced to be something lying on top of the exquisite
safe--a slender platinum chain with a pendant pearl.
With him gone, all eyes fixed themselves upon Mrs. De Peyster, and
there was a profound and motionless silence in the room, save at first
for some very sincere and vigorous snuffling into the handkerchiefs
of Olivetta and Matilda. As for Mrs. De Peyster, she sat below the
awesome, imperturbable Mrs. De Peyster of the portrait, and oh, what
a change was there in the one beneath!--huddled, shaking, not a
duchess-like line to her person, her face dropped forward in her
hands.
"Mother--" Jack breathed at length.
"Caroline!" breathed Judge Harvey. Then added: "I'm sure it--it'll
never become known."
"Oh, to think it's all over--and we're out of it!" Olivetta cried
hysterically. "Oh! Oh!" And she limply pitched sidewise in her chair.
"Mees Harmon--Olivetta!" exclaimed M. Dubois. He sprang forward, knelt
at her side and supported her wilted figure against his bosom.
Upon this poultice to her troubles Olivetta relaxed and sobbed
unrestrainedly. And no one, particularly Mrs. De Peyster, paid the
least heed to this little episode.
William, the coachman, the irreproachable, irreplaceable, unbendable
William, his clean-shaven mask of a face now somewhat pale--William
took a few respectful paces toward his resurrected mistress.
"If you will not regard it as a liberty," said he, with his cadence of
a prime minister, "I should like to express my relief and happiness at
your restoration among us."
"Thank you--William," whispered Mrs. De Peyster.
William, having delivered his felicitations, bowed slightly, and
started to turn away. But Matilda had stepped forward behind him, an
imploring look upon her face.
"Please, ma'am,--please, ma'am!" said she, in a tone that left no
doubt as to her meaning.
"Wait, William," weakly commanded Mrs. De Peyster.
William paused.
Mrs. De Peyster did not yet know what she was doing; her words spoke
themselves.
"William, Matilda has--has just confessed your engagement. She has
also confessed how, during my--my absence--one night, after driving
with you, she--she lost control of herself and seriously offended you.
She asks me to apologize to you and tell you how very, very sorry she
is."
"Indeed, I am, William!" put in Matilda fervently.
"It is my wish, William," continued Mrs. De Peyster, "that you should
forgive her--and make up things between you--and never speak of that
incident again--and be happy and stay with me forever."
Matilda timidly slipped an arm through William's.
"Forgive me, William!" said she appealingly.
William's graven face exhibited a strange phenomenon--it twitched
slightly.
"Thank you, Mrs. De Peyster," said he. And bowing respectfully, with
Matilda upon his arm, he went out.
"Well, Mary, I guess we'd better be going, too," said Jack, taking his
wife's hand. "Mother,"--respectfully, yet a little defiantly,--"I'm
sorry that Mary and I have by our trespassing caused you so much
inconvenience. But Mary and I and our things will be out of the house
within an hour. Good-bye."
"Wait, Jack!" Mrs. De Peyster reached up a trembling hand and caught
his sleeve. "Olivetta," said she, "perhaps you and your--your fiancé
could find--another place for your confidences."
"Oh!" exclaimed Olivetta, starting up with a flush.
"Cousin Caroline, do you mean--"
Mrs. De Peyster lifted an interrupting hand.
"Do as you like, but tell me about it later."
As the pair went out, Mrs. De Peyster slowly raised herself up and
stood gazing for a moment at her son. And that strange new force which
had menaced her with eruption during all the days of her hiding, and
which these last few minutes had been pulsing upward toward orgasm,
was now become resistless. It was as though a crust, a shell, were
being burst and being violently shed. She thrilled with an amazing,
undreamed-of, expanding warmth.
"Do you really--want to--leave me, Jack?" she whispered.
"I have been invited to leave," said he, "but I have never been
invited to come back."
With a timidity, shot through with tingling daring, she slipped an arm
about his shoulders.
"Then I invite you," she said tremulously. "Won't you stay, Jack?"
"And Mary?" said he.
She looked about at her dark-eyed daughter-in-law.
"If Mary will stay, too, I'll--I'll try not to act like my petrified
family tree."
"What! Was that you that day?" gasped the horrified Mary.
Mrs. De Peyster slipped her other arm about Mary, and daringly she
kissed Mary's fresh young cheek, and she drew the two tightly, almost
convulsively, to her. "Mother!" cried Jack; and the next instant the
two pairs of arms were about her. And thus they stood for several
moments; until--
"Caroline," broke in the unsteady but determined voice of Judge
Harvey, "I told you I was going to propose to you again. And I'm going
to do it right now. Please consider yourself proposed to."
She looked up--shamefaced, flushing.
"What, after the foolish woman I've--"
"If you were ever foolish, you were never less a fool than now!"
"I don't know about that," she quavered, "but anyhow I want you to
straighten out my affairs--and--and Allistair, for all I care, can
have--can have--for I'm all through--"
"Caroline!"
The next moment Judge Harvey's arms had usurped complete possession of
her. And she wilted away upon his shoulder, and sobbed there. And thus
for several moments....
They were aroused by a polite cough. Both looked up. Halfway to the
door stood Mr. Pyecroft; and beside him was Miss Gardner, gazing at
him, tremulously bewildered.
"Pardon me," said he, in his grave manner; nothing was ever seen less
suggestive of having ever smiled than his face--"pardon me, Judge
Harvey, but I believe you failed to mention at what time your office
opens."
"What time my office opens?" Judge Harvey repeated blankly. "Why?"
"Naturally," said Mr. Pyecroft, "I wish to know at what hour I am
supposed to report for work."
"Well--Well--"
But for a moment Judge Harvey could get out no more. He just stared.
Then in a voice of dryest sarcasm: "Would you consider it impudent on
my part--I wouldn't be impudent for the world, you know--to inquire
what might be your real name? I have heard you variously called Mr.
Simpson, Mr. Preston, Mr. Pyecroft. Perhaps you have a few other
_aliases_."
"I have had--yes. My real name is Eliot Endicott Bradford. That name
has the advantage of never having appeared in any complaint or police
report. For that matter, I may add that under none of my names have
I ever been arrested. Eliot Bradford is a man against whom no legal
fault can be found."
"A testimonial from you," exclaimed the Judge--"what could possibly be
better!"
"But the hour?" gently insisted the other.
Judge Harvey stared; his eyes narrowed. Then, suddenly--
"Nine-thirty," said he.
"Thank you, sir," said Mr. Bradford; and slipped a hand through Miss
Gardner's arm.
But before he could turn to go, Mrs. De Peyster, from over the
shoulder against which she leaned--Mrs. De Peyster, she couldn't help
it ... smiled at him.
And, suddenly, Judge Harvey--he couldn't help it, either ... was
smiling, too.