BELOW STAIRS
ANNA, the waitress, found the time lagging in spite of the game of
solitaire she was playing to wile away the tedium of her enforced
idleness. She cast a resentful glance at her swollen ankle before
shuffling the cards for the thirtieth time since she had eaten her
midday meal. She had discarded the morning newspaper, and refused to
find entertainment in the cheap paper novel which the cook had brought
to her early in the morning, so her last and only solace was the pack
of playing cards.
Mrs. Hale, a New Yorker by birth, until her marriage had spent her
life in the North, and while she had quickly succumbed to the spell
which the Capital City casts over those who come to its hospitable
doors, she had never taken kindly to employing negro servants. She did
not understand the African character, and her one attempt to adjust
herself to the conditions then prevailing in domestic service in the
District of Columbia had proved a dismal failure. With her husband’s
hasty approval she had sent to New York and engaged French and English
servants.
Aside from her eccentricities, Mrs. Hale was a kind and thoughtful
mistress, and the servants remained long in her employ. Even during
the chaotic war-time conditions in Washington, with the influx of
war-workers and deserters from the domestic field, her servants
had loyally remained with her in preference to seeking Government
“positions” as elevator women and messengers.
It required a person in Anna’s state of mind to find fault with the
large, cozily furnished bedroom in which she sat. A coal fire on the
hearth added its cheerful glow, and at her elbow was an electric
reading lamp ready for instant service when the winter afternoon drew
to a close.
Anna scowled at her reflection in the mirrored paneling of the door
leading to the bathroom which she and “cook,” a Swede, shared with
Maud, the parlor maid. For nearly twenty-four hours she had been kept
captive inside the four walls of her bedroom, and her restless spirit
rebelled. Fate, in the guise of a treacherous high-heeled slipper, had
given her an ugly tumble down the kitchen stairs on her way to bed the
night before, and Dr. McLane’s assurance that she had had a lucky
escape did not assuage Anna’s sense of personal grievance nor deaden
the pain of her physical injury.
Footsteps and the clatter of dishes, as a tray was brought in slight
contact with the stair turning, came distinctly through the open door
leading to the hall. Anna’s downcast look vanished. Seizing the cards,
she was intent on laying out her favorite solitaire when Maud entered,
bearing a tray loaded with appetizing dishes.
“I’m a bit late,” she explained apologetically, as Anna swept the
playing cards into her lap to make a place on the table for the tray.
“But there’s been a pile of coming and going in and out of the house,
and it keeps a body moving.”
“Sit down and have a cup of tea with me,” suggested Anna, on whom the
extra cup and saucer on the tray had not been lost. Maud had evidently
anticipated the invitation, judging also from the amount of cinnamon
toast and thin slices of bread and butter. “I am sorry, Maud, to have
more work thrown on you just now; perhaps I can hobble downstairs
to-morrow. Dr. McLane seemed to think I might.”
“Now, you rest easy,” advised Maud earnestly. “I can handle the work
all right, and Mr. Hale said he would come down handsome for it.”
“He did!” Anna’s eyes had narrowed to thin slits, but Maud, intent on
consuming as much tea and toast as was humanly possible in a given
time, was oblivious of her facial contortions. “Mr. Hale is a generous
gentleman; you stick by _him_, Maud.”
“You bet. What he says goes,” Maud nodded enthusiastically. “Funny
household, ain’t it? A dead easy one if you are in the ‘know,’” and
she chuckled. “Let me pour you out another cup, Miss Anna,” and, not
waiting for permission, she replenished Anna’s tea, at the same time
refilling her own cup. “My, don’t cook make good toast! No wonder Major
Richards is so partial to it.”
“Is he?” Anna’s tone was dry.
“Yes, ma’am, and he’s partial to a good deal more besides.” Maud
relished an opportunity of airing her views to so superior a person as
Anna, for it was not often that she had her undivided attention. “Major
Richards knows a good-looking woman when he sees one.”
“Is that so?” indifferently, helping herself to more sugar.
“Yes, ma’am,” with emphasis. “Didn’t I see the look and smile he gave
you yesterday?”
“Tut, tut! None of that.” Anna spoke with severity. “Major Richards is
Miss Judith’s husband, a nicely spoken gentleman.”
“Sure he is.” Maud smiled broadly, nothing daunted by Anna’s frown.
“And say, ain’t Miss Judith mashed on him? That cold kind always flops
the worst when they fall in love.”
“Miss Judith isn’t the cold kind,” retorted Anna warmly. “She has
plenty of temper about her, but I will say it’s tempered with proper
pride.”
“I wonder if it was proper pride which made her quarrel so with Mr.
Austin?” Maud’s snicker always grated on Anna, and again the waitress
frowned. “Say, wasn’t his death awful?”
“Yes.” Anna sat back with a shiver. “Terrible!”
“And they dunno who done it,” pursued Maud with relish, her somewhat
nasal voice slightly raised. “Leastways that is what Detective Ferguson
told me this afternoon.”
“Was he at the house again?”
“Yes, three times.” Maud looked regretfully at the empty toast dish. “I
asked him if he wanted a bed made up for his convenience, and he was
real peevish. My, but he asks a lot of questions!”
“What about?” inquired Anna.
“Oh, where we were on Tuesday night, and if we heard anything unusual,”
answered Maud with careless candor. “Didn’t seem to believe that we
had all gone to bed the same as usual. I told him if we’d a known Mr.
Austin was to have been murdered, o’ course we’d have waited up for it,
so as to supply the police with details. That settled him for a time
and then he wanted to know when I last saw Miss Judith Tuesday night.”
“So?” Anna leaned out of her chair and took up a box of candy from the
bureau. “Help yourself, Maud. What did you say to Ferguson?”
Maud received the candy with eyes which sparkled as Anna put the box
conveniently in front of her. Her craving for sweets had frequently
earned her a reprimand from Mrs. Hale when that dame caught her in the
act of purloining candy from the stock kept in the dining room.
“I told Ferguson that Miss Judith was undressing in her bedroom when I
went upstairs.” Maud’s speech was somewhat impeded by a large caramel.
“Then he wanted to know when we first heard o’ the murder--silly
question, wasn’t it?”
“Very,” agreed Anna. “Considering he came upstairs and joined us just
after Mrs. Hale had broken the news of Mr. Austin’s death. Men are
silly creatures.”
“Some of ’em are,” amended Maud. “I never would call Mr. Robert Hale
silly. Say, Miss Anna,”--and Maud hitched her chair close to the
waitress--“do you s’pose he knows anything about the courting that went
on between Miss Polly and his brother?”
“There isn’t anything that escapes Mr. Hale’s notice,” Anna responded
dryly.
“But Miss Polly was mighty sly about it,” argued Maud. “Mr. Austin
caught her once, though, and my, didn’t he flare up!” Her eyes grew
bigger at the recollection. “I wonder if he was smart enough to know
Miss Polly, for all her appearing frankness, was playing father and son
off against each other.”
“Men never know anything where a pretty woman’s concerned,” replied
Anna scornfully. “Miss Judith knew what was going on though, and”--she
lowered her voice to confidential tones--“it’s my belief that her Uncle
John used his influence with the family to get her sent on that visit
to Japan.”
“And there she met Major Richards.” Maud selected another piece of
candy. “My, ain’t Fate funny sometimes!” Her companion agreed, and Maud
munched the milk chocolates with silent enjoyment. Then her active mind
went off on a tangent as she caught sight of the playing cards still
reposing in a disorderly heap in Anna’s lap. “Mr. Hale got in one of
his tantrums this morning.”
“He did?” Anna put down her cup from which she had been slowly sipping
her strong black tea. “What about?”
“He said one of his playing cards was missing from the pack he keeps
in the library, and he just as much as asked me if I had stolen it.”
Maud sniffed. “If he hadn’t been so nice about my wages and my room
wasn’t so comfortable, and you and cook being so agreeable, I’d a given
notice.”
“Oh, pshaw! Mr. Hale doesn’t mean half he says,” Anna hastened to
smooth down Maud’s ruffled feelings. “He forgets the cause of his
tantrums ten minutes afterward. What’s the use of paying attention to
them? His wife never does.”
“I ain’t his wife,” objected Maud. “And he didn’t forget this tantrum,
though it was about such a measly little thing, but came right back
after lunch and asked me had I found the card in any one’s room. He
was put out when I told him no.”
“It is too bad, Maud,” exclaimed Anna, who had followed her story with
gratifying attention. “Mr. Hale shouldn’t worry you when you have extra
work with me laid up here. Why not speak to Mrs. Hale?”
“Not me!” broke in Maud hastily. “I ain’t hankering to start a family
ruction. Don’t you worry, Miss Anna, I fixed it,” Maud smiled slyly.
“I went up to Miss Judith’s boudoir with the C. & P. man to mend her
branch telephone this afternoon, and I just happened to see a pack o’
playing cards lying on Major Richards’ dresser; their backs were just
the same as Mr. Hale’s pack in the library, so I sneaked out the Knave
o’ Hearts. After the telephone man left, I gave the card to Mr. Hale.
And say, what do you s’pose he did?”
Anna shook her head. “I can’t guess. Do go on.”
“Well, first he gave that funny giggle o’ his, then he slips the card
in his pocket, and asks me where I got it.” Maud paused dramatically.
“When I said I found it on Major Richards’ dresser he looked at me
kinda funny and”--a violent sneeze interrupted the recital--“then he
gave me a raise in wages.”
“Bless me!” Anna ejaculated admiringly. “That was smart work, Maud.”
Her companion smiled deprecatingly. “’Tain’t nothing to what I can
do when I set my mind to it,” she replied. “I just happened on Major
Richards’ cards. How’s your ankle?”
The waitress started at the abruptness of the question.
“It is not so painful,” she said, and glanced significantly at the
clock on the mantel. “Isn’t it ’most time for you to see about setting
the table for dinner?”
“No; the family’s dining out to-night,” rejoined Maud, “so that me
and cook can rest up. Mrs. Hale is pretty much of a fool, but she
is considerate of us. There are times,” added Maud in a burst of
confidence, “when I feel darn sorry for her.”
“Don’t let your sympathies get the better of your judgment,” warned
Anna. “Mr. and Mrs. Hale are--well, you might say ‘discordantly’ happy.”
Maud wrinkled her brows. “If you are hinting they like to fuss, you are
dead right,” she acknowledged. “There’s one thing odd I’ve noticed
to-day”--She paused to contemplate herself in the mirrored door with
inward satisfaction; the simple black dress on her slight, trim figure
and neat white collar and cuffs, which Mrs. Hale insisted should be
worn by her servants, was becoming.
“What were you noticing to-day?” asked Anna, growing impatient as the
pause became prolonged.
“That Mrs. Hale and Miss Polly Davis were getting as thick as thieves,”
explained Maud. “I ain’t never seen them so loving.”
“Is that so?” Anna stroked her cheek reflectively. “Mrs. Hale feels
Miss Judith’s marriage more than she is willing to allow, I believe,
and she’s just looking ’round to find somebody to ‘mother.’”
“It’s a funny deal her picking on Miss Polly for that,” laughed Maud as
she arranged the tea dishes on the tray preparatory to departure. “D’ye
know, as poor as I am, I’d give a month’s wages to know who had a hand
in killing Mr. Austin.” She paused and placed her lips against Anna’s
right ear. “Them bloody shears Mr. Ferguson is forever exhibiting never
belonged to Miss Judith,” she whispered, “but Miss Polly’s are missing
from her desk.”
Down in Robert Hale’s den Polly Davis stopped transcribing his
manuscript notes to stare at three letters which she spread before her.
She read them in rotation for at least the seventh time, then settled
back in her chair and, resting her weight on its arms, contemplated the
notes.
The first was but a scrawl:
DEAREST:
You must dine with me to-night. I will not take a refusal and will call
at the usual hour.
Your devoted lover,
JOHN.
The second letter was from Judith:
Do not hesitate to use the enclosed check for your contemplated trip.
Return the loan at your convenience, and let me know if you should need
more.
Ever, dear Polly, faithfully yours,
JUDITH.
“My contemplated trip,” quoted Polly softly. The haggard lines in her
face were accentuated by the merciless electric light which beat down
from a lamp but a few feet above her typewriter desk. “Judith, are you
mad!”
Slowly her eyes turned to the third note. It had no commencement other
than the words:
In recognition of your valuable services I am increasing your salary
fifty dollars per month. Please arrange to give me additional hours
daily.
Yours, etc.,
ROBERT HALE.