Ten days passed before Catherine was considered well enough to
discuss recent events without undue agitation, and while Geoffrey saw
her each afternoon for a short time, their conversation was limited to
commonplaces. At the end of that period, however, she showed a
definite improvement. Her nerves calmed down, she was able to sleep
the night through without a sedative, and exactly a fortnight from the
memorable Saturday night she described to Geoffrey all that had
happened, from her arrival at the flat till the shock of the
collision, when she lost consciousness for the final time.
Geoffrey in turn related his experiences during the corresponding
interval--the sudden knowledge of Blom’s motive, his discovery that
she was missing, his suspicion of the servants, the false telegram
which had thrown him off the scent, his vigil in the room across the
street, and last of all, the wild race with death, when every moment
had been torture, lest she should be consigned to the river before the
pursuers could overtake her.
She listened absorbedly. All this time she had been completely
ignorant as to the mainspring of the plot, and she could scarcely
contain her astonishment when she heard of Blom’s intended marriage to
the woman he planned by his villainy to turn into an heiress.
“Honorine!” she gasped. “That poor, middle-aged, downtrodden woman? I
feel quite sure she never dreamed of the relationship any more than
Mme. Bender did. I don’t suppose they ever heard of one another. I
can’t believe she was a party to any wrongdoing.”
“I am sure she was not. Well, in all probability she will inherit your
cousin’s money, though she still is ignorant of the fact; and the
outcome of this has spared her tying herself up with a scoundrel who
would have used her fortune and neglected her for the first pretty
face that came his way.”
She mused a little over this, then turned back to the night which had
so nearly ended everything for her. It seemed that the drive had taken
place in almost total silence, Blom, who had evidently studied a
road-map, only speaking to issue commands, and every few minutes
pushing her aside to peer through the window at the back to see if
they were being followed.
“It was only a precaution, though, for they all believed they had come
away unobserved. However, on the bit of road before we came to that
last town----”
“Aubergenville,” he told her.
“He remained looking out for some time, then swore horribly in German
and called through the tube, to Eduardo, telling him to drive like
hell.”
“That was when he saw us.”
“You may imagine my feelings when I knew that rescue was close at hand
and heard the loathsome creature beside me scheming to throw you off
the track. We pulled up in the town to ask a direction, then tore off
again, only to double back and take two or three turnings till finally
we got into a sort of narrow lane, very rough.”
He explained what must have happened, how her captors had made the
detour in order to avoid returning to Aubergenville, and how they were
in the act of entering the lonely road leading to the Seine when they
ran headlong into the very car they were endeavouring to escape.
“I never knew what hit us,” she said. “I felt a terrific jolt which
made me see stars, but if there was any thought in my brain it was
that it was better to die that way than by drowning.”
She repressed a shudder, and yielding her hand to his seeking one, lay
back among her pillows.
“I forgot to tell you,” she remarked presently when the nurse had
brought tea and retired again tactfully, “that I had a visit from
Hermione this morning. Poor thing, she is quite broken up, and has
positively lost weight. Her clothes hung on her. Do you know, she
never mentioned Germaine’s money, nor the pearls, though surely she
knows they are gone?”
“My father had a talk with her after the safety-box was opened. It
must have been a great blow to her, but she was quite dignified about
it.”
“She seemed to me rather stunned. I don’t believe she has grasped it
all yet. The only comment she made about Honorine’s getting the
fortune was that heaven knows where she would go now to have her old
hats made over!”
They laughed a little at this.
“The wretched part about it is that I am positive Germaine would have
left her something if she had not been interfered with by Jeanne.
Isn’t it damnable? I am afraid the poor creature has almost no money.”
“As a matter of fact,” he replied, “things won’t turn out for her at
all badly. It is she, after all, who will furnish us with particulars
regarding Mme. Bender’s family, and the commission she will receive
for her services will be quite enough to provide for her comfortably.”
Her eyes brightened.
“Is that true? I’m glad you told me. I’ve been bothering about her.
She is miserably unhappy, you know. She told me she has not slept
since the night of the murder, thinking of Germaine and her awful
end.”
Her voice trembled as she whispered the last words. Geoffrey set down
his cup and sat upon the bed beside her, raising her chin with his
hand so that he could look into her troubled eyes.
“Catherine,” he said. “I can see you are letting that dwell on your
mind, too. Isn’t that so?”
“It haunts me,” she admitted. “Every time I close my eyes I can see
that flaming room and poor Germaine lying in the midst of it. I wish I
could forget it.”
He thought for a moment.
“But at the time you were pretty certain she was already dead?”
“I believed she was. I had only a glimpse, though, before I was
dragged away.”
“Well, you may take it for granted that she not only did not suffer,
but that she was never even aware of the fire. She simply went to
sleep as usual and died before anything happened.”
She looked at him with painful eagerness.
“Oh! If only I could believe that!” she cried with intense longing.
“Do you think it is possible?”
“More than that. Since the post-mortem we are quite sure of it. Her
organs were found to contain sufficient veronal to have killed her
quietly and without pain. The fire was merely to cover things up. If
the doors were locked it was only because Jeanne, having failed in her
previous attempts, was unwilling to take any chances.”
A sigh of thankfulness escaped her.
“Then there will be no difficulty about proving it was murder?”
“They will put up a fight, of course, you may depend on that. You see,
veronal happens to be a drug which accumulates in the system, and it
is undoubtedly true that your cousin had taken considerable quantities
of it for months on end. They will swear that death was due to heart
failure.”
Her face fell a little.
“But do you think the courts will accept their theory?”
He hesitated slightly. Up till now he had not mentioned the part she
would be obliged to play in the trial.
“Not when they have heard your evidence,” he answered. “But don’t
let’s talk of that now.”
Watching, he saw a stoical light come into her eyes.
“I shall be equal to it when the time comes,” she said intrepidly.
“When I think of what those two have done, I could go through fire
myself to bring them to justice.”
“One tremendous point in our favour is their attempt to do away with
you,” he reminded her. “They’ll find it pretty hard to explain that
away.”
“That was Eduardo’s stupidity,” she replied. “When he came in and saw
me struggling with Jeanne, he lost his head and let go at me. But for
that they might have pretended they were merely anxious to prevent my
harming myself by going into the burning room. I shouldn’t wonder if
they could have got away with it, too--Jeanne is so abominably clever!
By the way,” as a sudden thought struck her, “what was the hammering
on the front door which I heard just before I lost consciousness?”
He told her it must have been the _locataire_ from the third floor,
trying to wake up the servants.
“But for that interruption they would probably have allowed the fire
to go on much longer. In fact, it was probably their plan to let the
whole apartment be consumed, just managing to escape with their lives.
In that way Mme. Bender’s body would have virtually disappeared, as
well as every trace of their various thefts.”
“I see. So it was that unexpected hitch which altered things for them.
It must have been an awkward moment. What did they do with me, I
wonder?”
“I should say they moved you into one of the back rooms for the time
being, then while the man ran out to give the alarm, Eduardo must have
carried you up in the lift and through the trap-door on to the roof.
Certainly there was only a short interval before the place was
inundated with people, so they had to work quickly. It was probably
Jeanne’s shadow I saw on the blind in your room. She must have been
busy putting your things back into the bags ready for removal. By the
time the engines arrived she and Eduardo were both back at the scene
of action, making a great pretence of rescuing their mistress’s body.”
She stared in blank amazement at this arrangement of facts.
“Then I spent the remainder of the night on the roof?” she said
wonderingly.
“With your luggage,” he replied. “It’s the only solution I can think
of. You were not in the apartment next day when we searched it, and
except for that possible quarter of an hour of which I speak, Eduardo
had no free moment to get you out.”
“Then how did I come to be in the other flat?”
“The inspector has been investigating that. The flat belongs to a
Chilian family, who went off to Rome, leaving their butler in charge.
The butler took the week-end off, leaving the key with the concierge,
whom he had sworn to secrecy. But the concierge mentioned the fact to
Blom, who it seems was his man of business, as well as Eduardo’s. He
admits all this now.”
“Yes, go on.”
“Our theory is that when Eduardo told Blom what had happened to you
and the danger they were in, Blom, knowing the Bender apartment would
be searched, advised him to steal the key to the empty flat, which he
must have done during the time Bernard found him with the concierge.
After this he came home, took the lift straight to the top of the
building, climbed on to the roof, carried you across and down into the
other house, and returned by the same route. Previously he had garaged
the car elsewhere in Blom’s name, so that all the latter had to do was
to claim it, drive to the Square Lamartine, and drop in for a friendly
call on the concierge at the right moment to engage the old man’s
attention while you were being brought out. The whole thing was timed
to a second, and would have gone off without a hitch if Bernard had
not been watching the premises. So you see,” he added, “you owe your
life to Bernard.”
“Only partly. What about your finding out that the telegram was faked?
But for that you wouldn’t have been on the spot at all.”
“There was a good deal of luck about it. If I had not felt I could not
sit still in the Commandant’s study another instant I should never
have seen Bernard at all, and alone he could hardly have accomplished
much. If he had set upon the scoundrels single-handed in that quiet
square, they would probably have stuck Jeanne’s knife into him and
left him in the gutter.”
The trial of Jeanne Laborie and Adolph Blom became within the next few
weeks a _cause célèbre_. Both prisoners stuck woodenly to their plea
of not guilty, and throughout a rigorous cross-examination preserved
an unbroken stolidity of bearing. Their _avocat_, a sharp if somewhat
shady lawyer from Montmartre, displayed diabolical cunning on their
behalf, so that only after a prolonged tussle did his defence break
down under the weight of accumulated evidence. In the end, as Geoffrey
had foreseen, it was the attempt to remove Catherine which turned the
balance.
The truth, when all was known, may be summed up in this wise:
Shortly after Mme. Bender’s return from America, Jeanne, hitherto an
irreproachable servant, realized the extent to which her mistress’s
will had become weakened, and resolved to profit by it. At first she
did not venture beyond petty thefts--juggling with household accounts,
the occasional sale of some small article of value--but emboldened by
success she soon began operations on a more extensive scale. She
dismissed the other servants, engaged the stupid cook, who in exchange
for liberal outings and a minimum of work fell in blindly with her
plans, and by dint of many ruses was speedily putting away a
substantial sum of money. At this period she probably thought of
nothing worse than keeping Mme. Bender in a helpless state so that she
could continue her pilfering. However, after nearly a year of this,
Blom forced his way into the game, and the whole scheme was materially
altered.
The _notaire_, through whose hands the stolen money passed, began
eventually to wonder at the large sums which the maid regularly
brought to him for investment. It did not take him long to discover
the source of this surprising wealth, and, once sure of his facts, he
pounced upon Jeanne and her fellow-thief, Eduardo, and informed them
brutally that either they must admit him to a share of their gains or
else he would lose no time in reporting them to the police. It was
useless for the two to protest innocence; he had them in a cleft
stick. From that time on both servants were reluctantly obliged to
submit to his terms.
Now entered the sinister element in the plot. Some months previous
Jeanne, in one of her talks with the _notaire_, had happened to
mention her mistress’s maiden name, in conjunction with the fact that
Mme. Bender possessed no known heir. Blom had said nothing, but had
noted that by a curious coincidence the name had also been formerly
borne by one of his humble clients--Mme. Baron, known to her customers
as Honorine. He resolved quietly to ascertain if a blood relationship
might exist between the two Dieulefits, made the visit to Bordeaux,
and hit on the astounding truth that the milliner was indeed not
merely a connection of the wealthy woman, but actually her sole
heir--a cousin in the seventeenth degree!
This gave him his cue, and he forthwith prepared his plans with
cold-blooded thoroughness. He offered Jeanne and Eduardo a definite
choice--prison, or conniving with him at the murder of the invalid, at
whose death he, as Mme. Baron’s husband, would be in a position to
recompense them amply for their services. At this stage it is probable
that Jeanne, the master-mind of the two servants, while hating to
submit her will to another, yet realized that it served her best
interests to do so. She began to think that her mistress might not
have long to live, in which case her income was likely to be cut off
at any moment. Better, from her point of view, make certain of a
single large sum and have done with it. That she was quite
conscienceless and devoured by avarice was only too apparent.
The decision made, Blom lost no time in making sure of his widow, who,
regarding him as a desirable partner, accepted his proposal with
astonished alacrity. It now remained to prevent Mme. Bender’s making a
will, and to bring about her death, in such a manner as to suggest
accident or suicide. Jeanne’s gradual instillation of the insanity
idea--begun to serve her private ends--was an admirable aid to both
these projects. It discouraged the invalid from venturing a
disposition of her property which the courts might set aside, and at
the same time hoodwinked the outside world into believing her capable
of self-destruction. The one annoying obstacle was Miss Cushing.
However, that unfortunate lady, by displaying anxiety as to her own
inheritance, played into the crafty maid’s hand, with the result
already seen.
The train was carefully laid when the plotters were thrown into
confusion by Catherine’s approaching visit. Deeming it best to hasten
things, they arranged the first known attempt on the victim’s life by
substituting the extra strong solution of disinfectant--actually the
dangerous Burnett’s Fluid--for the glass of water with which she was
about to take her veronal tablet. The plan failed, was interpreted as
a foiled effort at suicide, and for the time being nothing further was
done, Catherine’s presence acting as a deterrent. The truth about Mme.
Bender’s trying to jump out of the window was never revealed, but it
was almost certainly an invention of Jeanne’s to lend colour to her
assertions. Here again she killed two birds with one stone. She
influenced public opinion, deceiving even the doctor, and by placing
the bars across the window shook her mistress’s faith in herself to a
terrifying extent. Indeed, her cunning foresaw and allowed for every
contingency. In but one respect did she err, and even here her
stupidity would have passed unremarked had it not been for Catherine’s
arrival on the scene. However, her ruling passion, greed, was too
strong to withstand, and it was greed which indirectly brought about
her ruin, even though it confused the issues and argued potently
against a motive for murder.
Knowing that, once her mistress was dead, she and Eduardo would have
to content themselves with what Blom was willing to pay them, she
resolved to make the most of her present opportunity, and from the
moment she agreed to the _notaire’s_ terms, set about quietly
stripping the apartment of saleable objects. Bibelots, antique silver,
tapestries and finally paintings, disappeared. Catherine’s suspicion
regarding the thefts gave her a bad fright, but she had a worse
adversary to reckon with. Blom himself was incensed at the loss of
what he now regarded as his own belongings, the scene in the lower
hall being due to his discovery of what was going on. At this stage he
could do little but threaten; the trio were in it now up to the neck,
and stood or fell together; but he managed to insist that Mme.
Bender’s death should no longer be postponed, ordering his tools to
proceed with the business of dispatching her quickly.
The conspirators were now faced with an embarrassing situation.
Catherine had become a positive menace. She was resolved to make an
indefinite stay, and showed signs of her intention to oust the
servants from their positions. Drastic action must be taken without
delay, consequently the maid hit on the idea of making her enemy ill
so that she would either be confined to her room or else forced to go
away. Thereupon she administered to the unsuspecting girl small daily
doses of a drug which brought on the attack, later supposed to be
ptomaine poisoning, throwing the young doctor off the track by hinting
that the patient had given herself some violent medicine. The drug
employed was in all likelihood the digitalis kept for Mme. Bender’s
occasional heart seizures. It was the one noxious substance at the
woman’s disposal, it could be partially disguised in coffee and
_tilleul_, and the result was calculated to produce precisely the
symptoms noticed in Catherine’s illness--acute nausea, cramps, and
fainting. Mrs. Baxter’s invitation happily came at the right moment,
as did Geoffrey’s insistence on its acceptance. The field was cleared,
and all went smoothly up to the moment of the visitor’s untimely
return.
Geoffrey’s theory regarding the fire was probably correct. Having got
all she could hope to obtain, Jeanne did not in the least care if the
whole building was destroyed. It meant safety for her, and although
Blom might be furious over the needless loss he could not say
anything. Indeed, his only possible course was to remain steadfastly
behind the curtains, go ahead with his humble marriage, which would
have included the customary drive in the Bois in a char à banc,
accompanied by his friends, and then subside until the moment when
more than anyone else he would express amazed gratification at his
wife’s stupendous luck.
The pearls, disposed of piecemeal, were never recovered, nor were the
Aubusson carpet and tapestries; but when Jeanne was taken to the
prison a packet of bank-notes, representing many thousand francs, was
found strapped around her waist, no doubt the proceeds of various
sales. The Manet was eventually traced to South America, whence it had
been smuggled by an obscure dealer, and a Claude Monet, a Dégas and a
small Renoir turned up finally in the French provinces, where the same
person was holding them till a safe time.
The two criminals received the death sentence.
Catherine’s sister knew nothing of what was happening till the
excitement was past. Even then, for an anxious day or so Catherine
feared that the zealous Barbara would dash across the ocean to take
charge of her--an event she particularly dreaded. However, a series of
reassuring cables set matters right, and she breathed again, secure in
her independence. It required but little persuasion on the Baxters’
part to induce her to spend her convalescence at Fontainebleau, where
she rapidly gained strength, soothed by a sense of blessed security,
and happy in the knowledge that almost every evening would bring
Geoffrey to her side.
One afternoon towards the end of May, when Catherine was well enough
to walk and Geoffrey’s arm was free of its sling, the two strolled out
into the forest and sat down upon a fallen beech-trunk in an open
glade. The slanting sun-rays streamed through a canopy of leaves,
dappling the ground with shadows and playing on the tender green of
the girl’s frock. The hush of the hour held them spellbound, and they
were silent so long that a thrush in the nearest thicket resumed its
interrupted song.
Catherine for her part was feeling curiously shy. During the past
weeks she had thought of her lover with a calm and steady affection,
but somehow this evening she was disturbingly aware of his
masculinity, which all at once struck her as a force to be reckoned
with. As she watched him poking among the dead leaves with a stick,
and noticed once more the dark hairs upon the backs of his muscular
hands, a tremor of nervousness seized her. Tension was in the still
air, the approach of a crisis which she longed for, yet dimly dreaded.
Presently it came.
“Catherine,” he began abruptly, “do you remember what you said to me
that evening after the cabaret? That you’d never consent to be engaged
again, but that one day you’d make up your mind to marry quite
suddenly?”
“I remember.…”
“Do you still mean it?”
She coloured with confusion.
“I--I suppose I do,” she faltered uncertainly. “Only I’d have liked to
let my hair grow to a more decent length first. I’m such a fright like
this!”--and she rubbed her fingers ruefully over the ruffled crop she
had spent hours trying to train into subjection.
“As if that mattered!” he cried impatiently. “Besides, it will take
just over a fortnight to comply with the French regulations. That
ought to be long enough, surely. What do you say? I could start the
process to-morrow.”
The practical firmness of his tone startled her a little. It was some
moments before she could meet his gaze, and when she did so she was
still unable to frame a response.
Suddenly she uttered a cry.
“Speaking of hair,” she gasped, “did you know you have got a patch of
grey over each ear? Geoffrey! To think I never noticed it!”
“Have I?”--indifferently. “It doesn’t matter. You haven’t answered my
question.”
“But it does matter,” she replied obstinately. “You hadn’t them
before. Tell me--is it because of--me?”
Evading her importunity, he lifted her two hands in his and kissed the
open palms.
“At any rate,” he said half-seriously, “you realize now what you are
able to do to me if you like. For instance, if ever you should change
your mind----”
Through a sudden mist fire flamed in her eyes.
“I shan’t,” she murmured quickly. “I----”
But whatever she might have added was stifled by the pressure of his
lips.
[The End]