WHAT GABY TOLD
It seemed to us that hours dragged heavily by, between the time that the
motor left and the time when we heard it draw up at the front door. A
moment later, and Gaby Jennings was shown into Murray's den, where we
three were waiting.
Ralston had said in his short note that Rosemary had gone away suddenly,
and that he was most anxious. But there was no sign of distress on the
Frenchwoman's face. On the contrary, those big dark eyes of hers, which
could be so languorous, looked hard as glass as she smiled at me and
nodded at Jim.
Her voice was soft, however, when she answered Ralston's question.
"Ah, my poor Major!" she gently bleated. "You have all my sympathy. I
could say nothing. But I always feared--I feared this would come!"
Ralston braced himself. "You know something, then?" he exclaimed. "You
have something to tell me!"
"I do know something--yes," she said. "But whether I have something to
tell--ah, that is different. I must think first."
"You mean, you wish to consult Paul," he prompted her. "But I can't wait
for that. For heaven's sake, Mrs. Jennings, speak out; don't keep me in
suspense."
"I did not mean to consult Paul," Gaby replied. "When I read your note I
told Paul you asked me to come over alone, though it was not true. It is
better that we talk without Paul listening."
"Shall Jim and I go away?" I asked quickly, speaking not to her, but to
Ralston.
"No," he answered. "Mrs. Jennings can have nothing to say about Rosemary
which I wouldn't care for you and Jim to hear."
I saw from Gaby's face that this verdict annoyed her, but she shrugged
her pretty shoulders. "As you will," she said. "For me, I would rather
Sir James and Lady Courtenaye were not here. But what matter? You would
repeat to them what passes between us."
"Doubtless I should," Ralston agreed. "Now tell me what you have to
tell, I beg."
"It is a very big thing," Gaby began. "Rosemary did not want me to tell.
She offered me bribes. I refused, because I would not bind myself. Yet
there is a favour you could do for me--for us--Major Murray. If you
would promise--I could not resist giving up Rosemary's secret."
Ralston's face had hardened. I saw his dislike of her and what she
suggested. But he could not afford to refuse, and perhaps lose all
chance of finding his wife.
"Will what you have to tell help me to get Rosemary back?" he asked.
"Yes--if after you have heard you still want her back," Gaby hedged. "I
can tell you where she is likely to be."
"Nothing on God's earth you could tell would make me not want her back!"
he cried. "What is this favour you speak of?"
"It is only that I ask you to take my husband as your doctor. Oh, do not
think it is from Paul I come! He does not know Rosemary's secret, or
that I make a price for this. If you do this--and why not, since Paul is
a good doctor, and you have now finished with others?--I will tell you
all I know about your wife."
As she went on I was thinking fast. Poor Rosemary! I was sure that Gaby
had tried to work upon her fears--had promised secrecy if Mrs. Murray
would get Doctor Jennings taken on as Ralston's physician. At first
Rosemary had been inclined to yield. That must have been at the time
when she wired to stop Sir Beverley's visit, if not too late. Then we
had appeared on the scene, saying that it _was_ too late, and urging
that Sir Beverley might offer Ralston a chance of life. At this
Rosemary's love for her husband had triumphed over fears for her own
sake. She had realized that by keeping Sir Beverley away she might be
standing between her husband and life itself. If there were a ray of
hope for him, she determined to help, not hinder, no matter what the
cost.
Once she had refused Mrs. Jennings' request, she had been at the woman's
mercy; but Gaby had waited, expecting the thing that had happened
to-day, and seeing that her best chance for the future lay with Murray.
As for Jennings, it might be true that he wasn't in the plot; but if my
theory concerning the portraits were correct, he certainly _was_ in it,
and had at least partially planned the whole scheme.
I was so afraid Ralston might accept the bargain without stopping to
think, that I spoke without giving him time to open his lips. "Before
you decide to take Paul Jennings as your doctor, send for an expert to
look through your collection of portraits!"
"What have the portraits to do with Doctor Jennings?" asked Ralston,
astonished.
I stared at Gaby Jennings as I answered; but a woman who uses liquid
powder is fortified against a blush.
"That's what I want you to find out before making a bargain with his
wife. All I know is, there are modern copies in the frames which once
held your greatest treasures. Only a person free to come and go here for
months could bring off such a fraud without too much risk. And if Doctor
Jennings _had_ brought it off, would he be a safe person to look after
the health of the man he'd cheated?"
Gaby Jennings sprang to her feet. "Lady Courtenaye, my husband can sue
you for slander!" she cried.
"He can; but will he?" I retorted.
"I go to tell him of what he is accused by you!" she said. "There is no
fear for us, because you have no proof. But it is finished now! I leave
this house where I have been insulted, and Major Murray may search the
world. He will never find his lost wife!"
"Stop, Mrs. Jennings!" Murray commanded, sharply. "The house is mine,
and _I_ have not insulted you. I thank Lady Courtenaye for trying to
protect me. But I don't intend to make any accusations against your
husband or you. Tell me what you know, and I will write a letter asking
Jennings to attend me as my doctor. That I promise."
Gaby Jennings threw me a look of triumph; and I am ashamed to say that
for a minute I was so angry at the man's foolhardiness that I hardly
cared what happened to him. But it was for a minute only. I felt that
Jim would have done the same in his place; and I was anxious to help him
in spite of himself.
The Frenchwoman accepted the promise, but suggested that Major Murray
might now wish to change his mind: he might like to be alone with her
when she made her revelations. Ralston was so far loyal to us, however,
that he refused to let us go. We were his best friends, and he was
deeply grateful, even though he had to act against our advice.
"Let them hear, then, that Rosemary Brandreth is Rosemary Brandreth to
this hour--not Rosemary Murray," Gaby Jennings snapped out. "She is not
your wife, because Guy Brandreth is not dead, and they are not divorced.
She does not even love you, Major Murray. She loves madly her real
husband, and left him only because she was jealous of some flirtation he
had with another woman. Then she met you--on shipboard, was it not?--and
this idea came into her head: to go through a ceremony of marriage, and
get what she could to feather her nest when you were dead, and she was
free to return home."
"My God! You lie!" broke out Ralston.
"I do not lie. I can prove to you that I do not. I knew Guy and Rosemary
Brandreth before I left the stage. I was acting in the States. People
made much of me there, as in England, in those days. In a big town
called Baltimore, in Maryland, I met the Brandreths. I met them at their
own house and at other houses where I was invited. There could be no
mistake. But when I saw the lady here, as your wife, I might have
thought her husband was dead; I might have thought that, and no
more--except for one thing: she was foolish: she showed that she was
afraid of me. Because of her manner I suspected something wrong. Letters
take ages, so I cabled to a man who had been nice to me in Baltimore. It
was a long message I sent, with several questions. Soon the answer came.
It told me that Captain Guy Brandreth is now stationed in Washington. He
is alive, and not divorced from his wife. They had a little quarrel, and
she sailed for Europe, to stay three or four months, but there was not
even gossip about a separation when she went away. My friend said that
Captain Brandreth talked often about being anxious for his wife to come
back, and instead of taking advantage of her absence, he no longer
flirted with the lady of whom Mrs. Brandreth had been jealous. Now you
have heard all--and you _see_ all, don't you? I know about the codicil
added to your will. You remember, my husband witnessed it, one day when
Sir James Courtenaye had meant to come over, but could not? Mrs.
Brandreth arranged cleverly. If you had died, as she was sure you would
die before the time when she was expected back, she could easily have
got your money--everything of which you had been possessed. She
waited--always hoping that you might die. But at last she had to give
up. She could stay no longer without fear of what her American husband
might do. If you don't believe, I will show you the cablegrams I have
received. But, in any case, you must read them!" And pulling from her
hand-bag several folded papers, Gaby forced them upon Ralston.
Oh, with what horrible plausibility the story hung together! It fitted
in with everything I had ever guessed, suspected, or known of
Rosemary--except her ethereal sweetness, her seeming love for the man
she had now deserted. Could she have pretended well enough to deceive me
in spite of my suspicions? Above all, would she have offered the blood
from her veins to save Ralston Murray if she had not wanted him to live?
My head buzzed with questions, and no answers were ready. Still I could
see, confusedly, that the terrible imposture Rosemary was accused of
might have been committed by a woman who loved its victim. Meeting him
on shipboard, old feelings might have crept back into her heart. On a
mad impulse she might have agreed to make his last weeks on earth happy.
As for the money, that extra temptation might have appealed to the worst
side of her nature.
When Ralston implored desperately, "Do _you_ believe this of Rosemary?"
I could not speak for a moment. I glanced from his despairing face to
Jim's perplexed one. Almost, I stammered, "I'm afraid I do believe!" But
the look I caught in Gaby's eyes as I turned stopped the words on my
lips.
"No, I _don't_ believe it of her--I can't, and won't!" I cried.
"God help me, I do!" groaned Ralston, and breaking down at last, he
covered his face with his hands.