"You needn't look like that," said Sadie. "We know he didn't do it.
Wouldn't he have paid his bet if he had?"
"It seems so," I said. I didn't know what to believe.
"There's another reason," said Sadie, "sufficient for a woman."
"What's that?"
"He's in love with her. He's making love to her now. He couldn't do
that if he had robbed her."
"I don't know," I said grimly. "If he could rob her, I suspect he
could make love to her."
That night at the theatre I devoted my attention pretty exclusively to
Quarles. God knows I was not anxious to ruin the young fellow, but
Sadie's communication taken in connection with the cryptogram and that
mysterious cash deposit was beginning to look like pretty strong
evidence. This being my first case, I attached more importance to
"evidence" than I would now.
I was in his dressing-room when he left to go on for the third act. He
had only a short scene at the beginning, and as he went out, he asked
me to wait till he came off.
I watched him go with a sinking heart for I hated to do what I had to
do. He was so handsome, so graceful, and with that burden on his
breast, so invariably kind to me, I felt like a wretch. Nevertheless,
I told myself for the sake of all of us I had to discover the painful
secret he was hiding.
I knew exactly how long I had before he would return. I swung the door
almost shut, as if the wind had blown it, and made a rapid, thorough
search. There was a pile of letters on his dressing-table as yet
unopened. Nothing suspicious there. Nothing in the drawers of his
dressing-table. There was no trunk in the room. His street coat was
on a form hanging from a hook. I frisked the pockets. There was a
handful of letters, papers in the breast pocket. Shuffling them over I
came upon a sheet of "dimity" note-paper without an envelope. Opening
it I beheld a communication in cryptogram exactly like the other.
I could hear the voices on the stage. Roland was about to come off. I
hastily returned all the papers to his pocket as I had found
them,--except the cryptogram. That I put in my own pocket.
When he came in we picked up our conversation where we had dropped it.
As soon as I got home I made haste to translate my find. I had saved
the numerical key I used before. I instantly found that it fitted this
communication also. This is what I got:
"I. has known of her loss for a couple of weeks. She has put two
detectives in the company. Faxon and the girl Covington. I have this
straight. Watch yourself. J."
So this is why Quarles cultivated my friendship! I thought, feeling
all the bitterness of finding myself betrayed. I could no longer doubt
my evidence. My friendly feelings for the young fellow were curdled.
8
I woke up next morning with a leaden weight on my breast. I had no
zest in the day which bore with it the necessity of telling Miss
Hamerton what I had learned. I put off the evil moment as long as
possible. During the morning Sadie came into the office for
instructions. I had not the heart to tell her. I sent her over to
Newark on a wild goose chase in connection with some of McArdle's
activities.
I was not expecting Miss Hamerton that afternoon. At three I called
her up and said that I had something important to report. She said she
was expecting some one later, and did not want to go out. Could I come
to her? This pleased me, for since I had to strike her down it was
more merciful to do it at home. I went.
She had never looked lovelier. Her room was a bower of Spring flowers,
and she in a pale yellow dress was like the fairest daffodil among
them. She was full of happiness, her cheeks glowing, her eyes
sparkling. It did not make my task any easier. I angrily rebelled
from it. But she was already asking me what was the matter.
I told her bunglingly enough, God knows, of the second cryptogram and
where I had found it. It crushed her like a flower trodden underfoot.
Presently, however, she began to fight. "The first thing the thief
would do when he found himself under surveillance," she faltered,
"would be to try to divert your attention to some one else."
"He would hardly choose one ordinarily so far above suspicion as the
leading man," I said reluctantly.
"He may have known, since he knows so much, that you were already
suspicious of Ro--of the other." She could not get his name out.
I felt like the criminal myself, trying to convince her against her
heart. "Taken by itself the letter would not be conclusive, but with
the other things----"
"What other things?"
"Well, his provoking you by a bet to wear the genuine pearls."
"There's nothing in that," she said quickly. "If he had had an
ulterior motive he would have spoken of the bet since. He would have
lost it, wouldn't he, to keep us from suspecting?"
I conceded the reasonableness of this--taken by itself. "But his bank
account?"
"Bank account?" she repeated, startled. We had not told her of this.
"On April sixth Mr. Quarles deposited forty thousand dollars in cash in
the Second National Bank."
All the light went out of her face. "Oh! Are you sure?" she gasped.
"I have seen the entry in his pass-book. I verified it at the bank."
Her heart still fought for him. "But my necklace was worth only
twenty-five thousand. And a thief would never be able to realise the
full value of it."
I shrugged. Naturally I did not care to add to her unhappiness by
telling her that the pearls were worth half a million. She thought
from my shrug that I meant to convey that if her lover had been guilty
of one theft why not others?
It crushed her anew. She had no more fight left in her. She sank back
dead white and bereft of motion. "He's coming here," she whispered.
"What shall I say to him? What shall I say?"
"Don't see him," I cried.
"I must. I promised."
I sat there, I don't know for how long, staring at the carpet like a
clown.
The telephone rang and we both jumped as at a pistol shot.
I offered to answer it, but she waved me back. She went to the
instrument falteringly--but I was surprised at the steadiness of her
voice. "What is it?" she asked.
"Let him come up," she said firmly. By her stricken white face I knew
who it was.
I jumped up in a kind of panic. "I will have myself carried up to the
roof garden so I won't meet him," I said.
"No, _please_," she murmured. "I want you here."
"But he must not meet me!" I cried.
"Wait in the next room." Her voice broke piteously. "Oh, I must have
some one here--some one I can trust!"
What was I to do? I obeyed very unwillingly. As soon as he entered I
found that the transom over the door was open, and I could hear
everything that passed between them. Of all the difficult things that
have been forced on me in the way of business, that half hour's
eavesdropping was as bad as any.
He must have been highly wrought up because he apparently never noticed
her state. His very first speech was tragically unfortunate. He spoke
in a harsh strained voice as if the painful thing he had kept hidden so
long was breaking out in spite of him.
"Irma, how soon can you replace me in the cast?"
"Eh?" she murmured. I could imagine the painful start she suppressed.
"I want to get out. I can't stand it any longer."
"But why?" she whispered.
"I hate acting! It is not a man's work."
"Have you just discovered it?" she asked with a little note of scorn
very painful to hear.
"No," he said gloomily, "I've always known. If I had been left to
myself I never would have acted. But I came of a family of actors. I
was brought up to it. I kept on because it was all I knew. It is only
since I have acted with you that it has become more than I can bear."
"Why, with me?" she whispered.
"Because I love you!" he said in a harsh, abrupt voice.
"Ah!" The sound was no more than a painful catch in her breath.
"Oh, you needn't tell me I'm a presumptuous fool," he burst out. "I
know it already. You don't know the height of my presumption yet. I
love you! The silly make-believe of love that I have to go through
every night with you drives me mad! I love you! I am ashamed to make
my living by exhibiting a pretence of love!"
"It was your father's profession and your mother's," she murmured.
"They were the real thing," he said gloomily. "They had a genuine
call. They loved their work. I hark back to an earlier strain, I
guess. I have no feeling for art to make it worth while. I hate the
tinsel and show and make-believe. I want to lead a real life with
you----!"
No man has any right to hear another man bare his heart like this. I
went to the open window and leaned out. I had forgotten Roland's
supposed guilt. My instinct told me that a guilty man could not have
spoken like this.
Even on the window-sill though I tried not to hear, an occasional word
reached me. We were so high up that little of the street noises
reached us. Bye and bye I heard Roland say "money" and I was drawn
back into the room. This, I felt, it was my business to hear.
He was still pleading with his heart in his voice. "A month ago I
would just have left without saying anything to you. I don't even know
that I am fit for anything else but acting. I could not ask you to
give it up without having something else to offer you. I suffer so to
see you on the stage. To see your name, your person, your doings all
public property drives me wild! I cannot stand seeing you show your
lovely self to the applause of those vulgar fools!"
"You are mad!" she whispered.
"I know--but I have had a stroke of luck----!"
"Luck?"
"I have come into some money. Oh, nothing much, but enough to give me
a start in some new country--if you could come with me! Oh, I am a
fool to think it. But I had to tell you I loved you. You would be
quite justified in laughing, and showing me the door. But I love you!
It seemed cowardly to go away without telling you."
"You are asking me to give up my profession?" she murmured unsteadily.
"I ask nothing. I expect nothing. But if you could--! You'd have to
give it up. It would kill me otherwise. I could stand better having
none of you than half." He laughed harshly. "Am I not ridiculous?
Tell me to go."
"I am not so enamoured of make-believe either," she murmured.
She was weakening! I trembled for her. This wretched business had to
be cleared up before they could hope for any happiness.
"If I loved you I could give it up," she whispered, "but I am not sure."
It was like a glimpse of Heaven to him. "Irma!" He cried her name over
and over brokenly. "My dear love! Then there is a chance--I never
expected--Oh! don't raise me up only to cast me down lower than before!"