PHANTOMS OF THE NIGHT
KATHRYN ALLEN, taking care that her starched white nurse’s uniform
made no crinkling sound, bent over Mrs. Fordyce and listened to her
regular breathing. Satisfied that her patient was at last asleep, she
arranged the night-light, placed several bottles and glasses on the
bedstand, and left the room. Her rubber-soled shoes made no sound, and
she passed through the empty rooms and halls in ghostly silence. First,
she paid a lengthy visit to Marjorie’s old room, and when she emerged
into the hall her white gown was covered by a dark coat-sweater which
Mrs. Fordyce had given to Marjorie at Christmas, and the becoming white
nurse’s cap nestled in one of the pockets of the sweater. Finally,
reaching the drawing-room floor, she paused to listen to the distant
hum of voices and gay laughter coming faintly from the dining-room,
then she peeped into the ballroom. It was empty, and the drawing-room
likewise.
Convinced that the way was clear she entered the library and was about
to make herself comfortable in Mr. Fordyce’s own easy-chair, when the
sound of rapidly approaching footsteps startled her, and she darted
behind the long silken window curtains which effectually concealed her
from view.
The curtains had barely fallen back into place when the hall door
opened and Calderon Fordyce came in and walked over to the telephone.
He was in much too great a hurry to observe his surroundings closely,
and becoming absorbed in his conversation over the wire, never heard
the faint rustle of the curtains as Kathryn Allen peered out between
them into the room, drinking in every word she could overhear. She
jerked her head out of sight as Fordyce hung up the receiver.
“Well, I’m blessed!” he exclaimed aloud. “I don’t want any more scenes;
where in thunder did Janet put the evening paper?” But his search was
unavailing, and he left the library still grumbling.
Kathryn allowed several minutes to elapse before she stirred from
behind the curtains. Finally convinced that Calderon Fordyce was not
likely to return at once, she went directly to his desk, and selecting
pen and paper, scribbled rapidly:
DEAR JOE,
They know, and have telephoned Calderon Fordyce. Get a taxi and wait
for me around the corner. Don’t fail.
K. A.
She reread what she had written, then drawing out a folded paper from
the same pocket which contained her nurse’s cap, she picked out a long
envelope stamped with Calderon Fordyce’s house address, and wrote above
it Marjorie Langdon’s name; then straightening out the folded paper,
enclosed it in the envelope which she sealed and addressed, and making
free with Calderon Fordyce’s stamp-book, soon had it ready for the mail.
“I think my ‘find’ will square accounts with both Marjorie Langdon
and Chichester Barnard,” she murmured, with malicious fury. “He won’t
marry me, and he shan’t marry her. God! how I--I--love him”--and the
unhappy woman bowed her head in anguish. The fact that her habit of
self-deception had magnified Barnard’s attentions to her did not soften
the realization that he cared nothing for her. It was but another
version of the moth and the flame, and pretty Kathryn, her wings
singed, turned with sore heart to Joe as her haven of refuge. But even
so she could neither forgive Barnard nor forget him.
Replacing the envelope in her pocket, she rearranged the displaced desk
ornaments, and picking up the note addressed to Joe, left the room. No
one saw her make her way into the men’s cloakroom on the ground floor,
but once there she stuck Joe’s note on the mantel in plain view and
sped into the hall. Not wishing to encounter any servant she entered
the lift and shot up to the drawing-room floor. She made certain the
way was clear before venturing down the hall to the Chinese room. Mrs.
Fordyce had sent her there earlier in the evening to get the _Evening
Star_, and she had used the private staircase to go and return. It
would be the quickest way to reach her patient undetected.
But the contents of the Chinese room fascinated her, and she lingered
on, examining with growing interest the many beautiful curios. So
absorbed was she that she never heard the opening and closing of the
hall door.
“Oh, ho, Kathryn!” said a well-known voice, and with a stifled cry she
faced about.
“Chichester!”
Barnard laughed softly as he observed her confusion. “Pretty, pretty,
Kathryn!” he mocked. “Why so far from your patient, my dear?”
“What business is that of yours?”
“My general interest in your welfare prompts the question.”
“Rot!” bitterly. “You have already shown me that you care nothing for
me.”
“Interest does not necessarily mean affection, my dear Kathryn. You are
so emotional you confuse the terms.”
“I don’t want your interest,” she replied sullenly, her resentment
rising.
“Oh, yes, you do,” with a provoking smile. “Suppose I lost interest in
you and reported your neglect of Mrs. Fordyce to her husband. Is your
reputation as a reliable nurse of no value to you?”
“Not particularly.”
“Indeed. Found a bonanza?”
“No; a man who respects me.”
Barnard laughed again. “Poor fool!”
Kathryn’s cheeks turned as red as her hair as her smoldering wrath
kindled under his look and words. “You are the pitiful fool; wasting
your love on a girl who betrays you,” she snapped, and meeting his
blank stare, added: “Marjorie Langdon has other intentions since being
thrown with Duncan Fordyce. You don’t believe me? Well, I have proof
she’s off with the old love. I found out tonight that she plans to ruin
you.”
“Bosh!” but Barnard paled. “I am in no woman’s power....”
“Then why should Marjorie Langdon write to Admiral Lawrence?” she
supplemented.
“Why shouldn’t she?” he countered.
“Put it down to a change of heart,” she taunted. “Perhaps Marjorie
wants her old secretaryship back again, perhaps conscience prompts her
to make restitution. The envelope was long, it could easily have held a
legal document ... for instance, a codicil to a will.”
“Where did you make this interesting discovery?”
“Among Marjorie’s belongings.”
“While playing hide-and-seek,” he jeered. “Well, did you leave it
there?”
“For you to steal?” The sneer cost her dearly, for Barnard’s quick wits
grasped the situation.
“No, of course you didn’t; an unscrupulous woman would not leave
capital behind. Give it to me.”
“I haven’t it”--but Barnard, paying no attention to the denial, sprang
toward her. “Stop, you hurt my arm”--struggling in his grasp. “You
brute!”
“Give me the letter!” Barnard shook her violently. For answer she sank
her teeth in his hand. “You devil!” he gasped, and she reeled backward
under his blow. As her weight fell on the unlatched door leading to
the private staircase, it opened and precipitated her into the short
passage way. In an instant Barnard was by the fallen woman’s side, but
before he could search her for the letter he supposed she had, Janet
Fordyce stepped into the Chinese room. The passage way was fortunately
dark, and she did not observe Barnard kneeling by Kathryn. With a swift
movement Barnard pushed the door to, leaving however, a crack through
which he could peer into the Chinese room.
Humming a gay tune Janet paused by the electric droplight, then sitting
down before the desk she opened the left-hand drawer and putting in her
hand felt about until her lingers found a spring which she pressed.
Instantly the panel between the two drawers, which usually looked
as solid as the rest of the desk, flew out, and Janet, bending down
slipped her hand inside the opening and pulled out a jewel-box. With
leisurely movement she opened the case and held it directly under
the lamp, and the light fell on a superb ruby set as a pendant. She
gazed at it admiringly and taking the jewel out of the case carefully
inspected the exquisite workmanship of the pendant. She fondled the
jewel for a moment, then replaced it in its case, and laid the latter
back in the secret drawer. But before closing the drawer she evidently
thought better of it and again lifted out the ruby pendant, replaced
the empty case, closed the drawer, and unhurriedly left the room.
Through the crack of the door Barnard, with eyes almost starting from
his head, watched Janet’s every movement; so intent was he that he
failed to notice Kathryn. Taking advantage of his absorption, she had
risen to her knees and was also peering into the Chinese room. As Janet
disappeared, she sprang to her feet, intending to run upstairs, but
Barnard pulled her back and stared at her in horror. She was shaking
with noiseless mirth which threatened to break out into hysterical
weeping.
“The girl’s a thief, a common thief,” she gasped faintly. “Trust you to
find it out, and use your knowledge to bend her to your will. Well, you
may make her your wife, but she loves Tom Nichols.” She blanched before
his furious expression. “I tell you, Janet Fordyce loves Tom Nichols,”
she repeated stubbornly. “I’ve just read the young fool’s diary.”
“Your inordinate curiosity will be your ruin,” said Barnard, with
ominous quietness. “Give me the paper you found in Marjorie Langdon’s
room,” folding his handkerchief around his bruised hand.
“Hush!” A murmur of voices sounded down the hall, and Kathryn seized
on the interruption. “Go in there,” she directed, “unless you wish to
be caught out here with me.” Barnard hesitated; the voices were most
certainly drawing nearer; it would be one thing to be found waiting in
the Chinese room alone, and quite a different matter to be discovered
apparently hiding in a back passage with a trained nurse. He dared
not risk another struggle with Kathryn, they most certainly would be
overheard. With a muttered oath he laid his hand on the door knob.
“You send that paper to Admiral Lawrence at your own peril,” he
whispered. “I know of certain escapades which will forfeit any man’s
respect for you--you understand. Don’t push me too far,” and jerking
open the door he stepped back into the Chinese room.
He had been there but a moment when Calderon Fordyce entered with
Representative J. Calhoun-Cooper. With a hasty word of greeting to the
latter, Barnard backed toward the hall door, eager to be gone.
“Stop a second, Barnard,” exclaimed Calhoun-Cooper. “I am glad to have
you here. Perhaps you can help me in a legal way.”
“Anything I can do, sir,” Barnard was careful to remain in the shadow
as much as possible, keeping his bandaged hand in his pocket. “I am
entirely at your service.”
“Thanks,” Calhoun-Cooper turned his attention to his host, to Barnard’s
relief. “Have you sent for Joe?”
“Yes,” replied Fordyce shortly. “Look here, Cooper, can’t you contrive
to settle this affair without a scene?”
“I’ll try. Barnard, here, will help me.” Barnard looked wonderingly
at the two men. “What is the legal age for marriage in the District,
Barnard?”
“With or without the consent of parents?”
“Without.”
Before Barnard could reply, the hall door opened and Pauline stepped
into the room.
“What’s to pay, father?” she inquired. “I saw you arrive, and overheard
the footman tell Joe to come to this room. Is mother ill?”
“No, go back to the drawing-room, Pauline, and hurry Joe in here.”
“He won’t come.” Pauline, scenting excitement, was reluctant to leave.
“Won’t he?” Calhoun-Cooper’s temper was aroused. Stepping past the
others, he jerked open the hall door just in time to see Joe dash by.
“Stop him!” he commanded. Tom Nichols, who happened to be returning
from the smoking-room, instinctively tripped up the running man, and
not until he helped him to his feet, did he recognize Joe.
“Go back into that room,” ordered Calhoun-Cooper, and Joe quailed
before the look in his eyes. “Come with us, Nichols; no, there’s no use
trying to run away again,” as Joe made a sideways motion to duck by
them.
Much astounded Tom followed the father and son into the Chinese room.
Janet, getting out of the elevator, saw the little procession, and
moved by curiosity, also entered the room. Calderon Fordyce glanced
vexedly at the increasing group around him, his request that there
should be no scene was not to be granted. Calhoun-Cooper was about to
speak when Duncan opened the hall door.
“What do you mean by running off and leaving your guests, Janet?”
he demanded. “They are saying good-bye, and Marjorie....” he stopped
abruptly as his eyes fell on the others. “Go back to the drawing-room,
dear,” and he pushed Janet through the door and closed it behind her.
“Tell me the truth, Joe,” commanded Calhoun-Cooper. “Have you taken out
a marriage license?”
“Yes,” answered Joe sullenly.
“What?” screamed Pauline. “Who are you going to marry?”
“None of your business,” retorted her brother.
“It is very much my business,” broke in Calhoun-Cooper, who had been
holding a hurried conversation with Barnard. “Considering you are not
of legal age to marry in the District without your parent’s consent.”
“We can be married in Rockville,” replied Joe heatedly. “I suppose you
read the marriage license published in the _Star_ tonight.”
“Your mother read it after dinner, and at once notified me at the
Capitol.”
“It’s rotten luck!” complained Joe bitterly. “I didn’t know they’d
publish it. Why should you withhold your consent, father? Kathryn Allen
is worthy of respect and love.”
“Kathryn Allen!” Pauline’s face turned red with mortification and rage.
“You propose marrying that girl of questionable repute? You dare to
think of bringing her into our family!”
“My family is quite as good as yours,” retorted a voice from the other
side of the room, and Kathryn Allen, who had been an interested
listener in the passageway, stepped to Joe’s side. She had discarded
Marjorie’s sweater, and straightened her dress. She looked a model
trained nurse in her simple white uniform. For a moment the others were
too astounded to speak.
“Are you Kathryn Allen?” asked Calhoun-Cooper.
“Yes,” proudly. “And your son has the honor to be engaged to me.” She
flashed a triumphant look at Pauline whose indignation prevented speech
on her part.
“Where have you been most of the evening, nurse?” questioned Calderon
Fordyce sternly. “My wife informed me, when I went to see how she was,
that you had been absent for over an hour.”
“I came downstairs to do an errand for her,” lied Kathryn. “Your wife
was asleep when I left her.”
“I do not like such conduct,” said Fordyce curtly. “I have already
telephoned to the hospital for another nurse. You may leave at once.”
Kathryn’s eyes blazed with wrath. “You--you--send me away,” she paused
to gain control of her trembling voice. “You, whose own daughter is a
thief!”
“How dare you?” Both Calderon Fordyce and Duncan moved toward the
enraged woman. No one paid the slightest attention to Marjorie and Paul
Potter who entered at that moment, and stood regarding the tableau too
surprised to speak.
“I am telling the truth,” shrieked Kathryn. “Mr. Barnard and I both
watched her take your ruby pendant.”
There was dead silence as all eyes turned to Barnard. Quickly he
decided; helped by the promise he read in Kathryn’s eyes: she would
give him the codicil if he backed up her charge against Janet. Utterly
unscrupulous himself, he never doubted that Marjorie, on impulse, had
stolen the codicil; his intense egoism making him believe her past
friendship for him had prompted the theft. With that codicil once
safely in his possession he stood to win one hundred thousand dollars.
He could depend on Kathryn’s dog-like fidelity if he showed her the
slightest affection. Janet? Well, Janet could go in the discard. He
cleared his throat nervously.
“The nurse’s story is quite true,” he acknowledged sorrowfully.
Calderon Fordyce staggered into the nearest chair, and Duncan paused
irresolute, as remembrances crowded upon him.
“We saw Miss Fordyce go over to that desk, press a spring, open the
middle part, and take out the case,” went on Kathryn vindictively,
after casting a grateful look on Barnard. He had not failed her. “She
removed the ruby pendant, replaced the case, and left the room.”
“It’s all a rotten lie!” gasped Tom. “It must be,” turning appealingly
to Marjorie. But she stood silent. She had done her loyal best, she
could do no more. The inevitable had happened.
“Did you tell your daughter that you had the pendant, Fordyce?” asked
Calhoun-Cooper, forgetting for the moment Joe’s prospective matrimonial
plans.
“Yes, I showed it to her.”
“Anyone who reads the _Star_ knew father had the ruby,” said Duncan
slowly.
“But no outsider knew where your father kept the jewel,” interrupted
Kathryn.
“Suppose you look and see if it is gone,” suggested Duncan, and
Calderon Fordyce rose and opened the secret drawer. A groan of horror
escaped him on seeing the empty case.
“Janet saw me place the case in there,” he gasped. “Her mother uses the
secret drawer for many private documents and sometimes for her jewelry.
Janet, my own dear daughter, a thief!” His agony was unconcealed.
“Do not condemn Janet so soon,” said Paul Potter quietly. “The girl was
acting under auto-suggestion.”