AND CORRUPTION
Kitty paused before her bureau and inspected herself in the mirror. It
had been a relief to change from her street clothes to a dressing gown.
She had spent nearly an hour lying on the couch in her bedroom trying
to piece together the puzzling events of the afternoon. On re�ntering
the house she had gone at once to the servants' quarters; from there
she had searched every room, even to the attic. To all appearances
Oscar was not in the house. She had then waited in the library, hoping
to catch him on his entrance, but evidently he had accompanied the
unknown woman away from the house.
Kitty struck her hands together in impotent wrath at the thought. Why
had she not realized immediately that the speakers were outside the
house, and not wasted precious minutes trying to light the lamp in the
library and thus given them time to slip away unseen!
Who was the woman? Vainly, Kitty tried to identify her voice. Strive as
she did to recall where she had heard it before, it eluded her memory.
Why should any woman bribe old Oscar to steal papers which had belonged
to her aunt?
With a sigh of utter weariness, Kitty gave up the problem for the
moment and continued her dressing. Twenty minutes later, her toilet
completed, she stopped before the cheval glass and gave a final pat to
her hair. At last, satisfied with her appearance, she hastened into the
hall. As she descended the staircase, she heard the rattle of dishes
in the dining room and the sound of the dumb-waiter creaking its way
upward. With flying footsteps she covered the intervening space and
crossed the hall to the pantry.
"Oscar!" she called. "I wish to speak to you at once. Come here."
But the person who stepped from the dining room into the pantry at her
imperious summons was not Oscar.
"What yo' want, Miss Kitty?" asked Mandy.
"Oscar!" She repeated the old servant's name with ever growing
impatience. "I must see him immediately."
"Laws, Miss Kitty, Oscar's on his way to Front Royal, Virginia, dis
hyar minute," explained Mandy, in no wise hurrying her leisurely
speech.
"On his way where?" gasped Kitty.
"To Front Royal." Mandy lifted her apron and produced from a voluminous
pocket a much twisted telegram. "He done got dis hyar message to come
at wandst 'cause his brother, the one dat owns a farm five miles from
Front Royal, is a dyin'. See what dey done wrote," and she held out the
telegram. Kitty read the typed lines with interest before handing the
telegram back to Mandy.
"Why didn't you tell me of this?" she demanded. "Oscar had no business
to leave without first speaking to me."
"Laws, Miss Kitty, yo' warn't in de house an' we didn't know when yo'
'spected to be back," Mandy explained. "Oscar had to catch the three
o'clock train to get there to-night."
"The three o'clock train," Kitty repeated. "The three o'clock train
_this afternoon_."
"Yes, Miss Kitty."
"But--" Kitty passed a bewildered hand across her forehead. "Oscar was
here at five o'clock--here at this house."
"Here?" Mandy's eyes opened, showing the whites more clearly. "What yo'
talkin' 'bout, Miss Kitty?"
"Oscar was here this afternoon at five o'clock," Kitty stated, speaking
more deliberately so as to make certain that Mandy understood what she
said. "I overheard him talking to a woman just outside the library
door."
"Yo' did!" Mandy's uplifted voice as well as her expression registered
complete astonishment. "Did yo' see him?"
"No. I tell you I overheard him talking to a woman." Kitty's temper
was gaining the upper hand, and she spoke with warmth. "I know Oscar's
voice, Mandy."
"Yes, Miss Kitty," but the old colored woman still looked unconvinced.
"Dar's a heap o' niggers talks jes' like Oscar. Is yo' sure it warn't
dat worthless 'Rastus from nex' do'?"
"I know it was not 'Rastus," declared Kitty, with emphasis. "Besides,
the woman, in speaking to Oscar, addressed him by name."
"She did?" Mandy fell back a step and stared at Kitty. "Oh, go 'way,
Miss Kitty, yo' been dreamin'--why, 'twarn't possible. I went to de
depot with Oscar my own self an' saw Oscar get on dat train, an' it
done pull out fo' Front Royal at three o'clock this afternoon."
It was Kitty's turn to stare at Mandy. The old woman's beady black eyes
did not shift their gaze. A full minute passed before Kitty broke the
silence.
"When did you return, Mandy?" she asked.
"'Bout six or a few minutes after," Mandy said. "I come upstairs an'
listened to hear ef yo' was in de house. I didn't hear nuffin' an'
didn't see no light, so I went back to de kitchen to get dinner. I
s'posed yo' hadn't come in."
"I was lying down--"
Mandy's worried expression changed to one of relief and she did not
permit Kitty to finish her sentence.
"Dar now, I 'spects yo' jes' drap off to sleep an' dreamed 'bout Oscar
bein' hyar," she exclaimed. "Dat was it, Honey, dat was it!"
"Oh, was that it?" Kitty's voice lacked heartiness. "All right, Mandy.
Serve dinner when it is ready."
"Yes, Miss Kitty; it won't be a minute now. I'se got a real tasty
chicken a broilin'. Jes' go set down, chile; trust ole Mandy to look
after yo'." And she gave the girl's arm a friendly squeeze as Kitty
passed her to go into the dining room.
Kitty did not sit down at once. Her thoughts were in a turmoil as
she paced up and down the room. Was Mandy right? Had she dreamed
overhearing an unknown woman offer Oscar a bribe to steal papers which
had belonged to her aunt? Her aimless footsteps carried her into the
library and to the Dutch door. The small panel stood open. Kitty's
eyes strayed from it to the telephone. On impulse she crossed to the
instrument and took up the telephone directory. It took her but a
moment to find the number she wished, then she paused. Should she call
Edward Rodgers or her cousin, Ben Potter?
She had seen or heard nothing from either Ben or his wife since late
Tuesday afternoon after the inquest, when they had stopped for a
brief moment to tell of their contemplated trip to New York and to
suggest that she accompany them. She had been tempted to accept their
invitation. A longing to run away from the mansion which she had called
home from her earliest recollection, to separate herself from the
tragedy of her aunt's murder had almost overpowered her. But her sense
of horror at the crime, her determination to solve the mystery and
bring her aunt's murderer to justice had conquered, and she had stayed
on at the old house, refusing to follow Charles Craige's suggestion
that she engage a trained nurse as a companion and go to a hotel. Nina
Potter had promised to telephone to her immediately upon their return
from New York, but so far she had received no message from her.
Kitty felt urgent need of clear-headed advice. Instinctively, she
took up the telephone instrument. She had not seen Edward Rodgers
since Tuesday night when they had discovered her aunt's will secreted
under the plaster cast of the Gila monster, but he would come at her
call--her woman's instinct told her that.
The telephone bell sounded with such suddenness that she almost dropped
the instrument. Recovering herself she took off the receiver.
"Is that you, Miss Baird?" Edward Rodgers' deep tones were music in her
ears. "Will you be in this evening? Can I see you?"
His questions came in such swift succession that Kitty had no chance to
answer each individually.
"Do come," she called back. "I'll be very glad to see you."
"Righto--" The connection was poor and his voice sounded faintly over
the wires. "In about an hour." With heightened color she hung up the
receiver and Mandy, entering the dining room some seconds later, found
her sitting demurely at her place at the head of the table, waiting
patiently for the "tasty" broiled chicken.
During the service of the meal, Mandy kept up a running chatter of
conversation, talking on any subject, regardless of its relevancy.
Several times Kitty regarded her in surprise; it was not like Mandy to
be garrulous.
"I've been fixin' to tell yo'," she announced as she removed the
dessert plate, "dat Mrs. Potter done telephone yo' jes' a few minutes
after yo' left this mawnin'. I declare yo' put it outer my haid when
yo' telled me 'bout yo' dreamin' Oscar was hyar at five o'clock."
"Did Mrs. Potter say how she was, Mandy?" asked Kitty, as she arose.
"She had a mighty bad cold an' I couldn't hardly hear what she said,
noways." Mandy advanced, silver coffee pot in hand. "Ain't yo' gwine
ter take yo' coffee?"
"Yes, in the library. And Mandy, bring another cup," Kitty paused. "I
am expecting Mr. Rodgers. There is the bell now--"
Mandy was smiling to herself as she walked toward the front door. Her
smile broadened into an expansive grin at sight of Edward Rodgers.
"Come right in, Sah: Miss Kitty's 'spectin' yo' in the lib'ry." She
hovered about while he removed his hat and overcoat. "I'se glad yo've
come; Miss Kitty's kinda peaked. It's nice yo' can keep her company."
"Thanks." Rodgers' dry tone was totally lost on Mandy. With a
flourishing twist of the porti�res in front of the library door she
announced:
"Mister Rodgers--" and discreetly disappeared inside her pantry.
As Kitty felt Rodgers' strong handclasp and met his ardent gaze, her
heart beat more swiftly. Rodgers, scarcely conscious that he still
held her hand, was unaware of the brief pause, being content to watch
Kitty's piquant beauty.
"I've wanted to see you--to be with you," he stammered. "It's been an
eternity."
Kitty's soft laugh interrupted him. "Come and sit down," she said. "I'm
particularly glad you came to-night, for I want your advice badly."
"You do?" Rodgers followed her to the leather-covered lounge and sat
down by her. "What about?"
"Hush!" Kitty had caught the sound of Mandy's heavy tread in the hall.
"I'll tell you later after we have had our coffee. Come in, Mandy."
Kitty raised her voice. "Bring the tray here and place it on this
table."
With Rodgers' aid the old servant made room on the table for her tray,
then, with a respectful "good night," she stumped away, taking care to
drop the porti�res back in place. As Rodgers bent to pick up a napkin
which he had inadvertently dropped, Kitty caught sight of the cuts on
his head partially covered by a dressing.
"Good gracious! What have you done to yourself?" she cried.
"Ran head first into a door," replied Rodgers.
"Are you sure you are not badly hurt?" she asked gravely, noting the
pallor of his usually ruddy cheeks. At the solicitude in her voice
Rodgers colored and his eyes shone.
"Quite sure," he said, then made haste to change the subject. "Have
you seen Ben Potter to-day?"
"No. Nina telephoned to me this morning while I was out." She handed
him her empty coffee cup to put down. "I haven't seen Ben since the day
of the inquest."
Rodgers hesitated a moment. "Forgive the question--but--are you and he
great friends?"
Kitty regarded him gravely. "Not great friends; we sometimes have
spats," she admitted. A mischievous smile brought out her pretty
dimples. "Our last dispute was on the subject of deportment and dress.
I do not see how Nina stands his Puritanical ideas."
"Doesn't he approve of gay colors?"
"Gay colors!" Kitty laughed outright. "I should say not. Why, he nearly
had a fit whenever I appeared in my red coat."
"He is a man of queer ideas," Rodgers commented dryly. "The red coat
was most becoming to you. By the way, I haven't seen you wear it
lately."
"I am having the coat dyed--" Seeing his surprised expression, she
added, "Not because Ben disliked the color, but it was too faded."
"Did _you_ take the coat to be dyed?" asked Rodgers, and she wondered
at the persistency of his gaze.
"No. I gave it to Aunt Susan one day last week." Kitty sat bolt
upright. "Dear me, I wonder at which cleaning establishment she left
the coat."
"You have no idea where it is?"
"Not the faintest idea in this world; Aunt Susan never dealt long at
any one shop." Kitty shook her head. "The events of the past few days
put the coat entirely out of my mind."
"Then your aunt was the last person to have your coat--?"
"She was certainly the last person in this household to handle it," she
answered. "You speak as if the coat was of some consequence--" with a
quick surprised glance at him.
Rogers paused as Oscar's warning recurred to him "She mustn't know
nawthin'." Whatever the old negro's reasons might be for asking
him not to discuss the red coat with Kitty--whether important or
unimportant--he would keep faith with the old negro and not tell her of
the incidents of the morning.
"I always liked the coat," he declared. "Suppose you don't get it
back--?"
"Oh, the cleaners, whoever they are, will probably send it back when
it is dyed so as to get paid," she answered carelessly. "It is a small
loss anyway for the coat was about worn out." She sighed involuntarily
and Rodgers looked at her intently.
"Isn't this house getting on your nerves?" he asked, observing the
deep shadows under her eyes which told their story of wakeful nights
and frayed nerves.
"Not so much the house as the mystery," she admitted, with a slight
shiver. "Have you discovered any clues?"
Rodgers touched a small "I.O.U." paper safely tucked inside his
vest pocket. "Nothing of any consequence," he confessed. "I tried
to see Inspector Mitchell this afternoon, but he never returned to
Headquarters."
"He was here." Kitty paused and considered her companion. The mention
of Inspector Mitchell brought back his questions about the Holt will
contest. "By the way, the inspector asked if you had ever told me about
the law suit over Colonel Holt's will."
Rodgers laid down his cigarette case unopened. "The Holt will case," he
exclaimed. "Of what possible interest could that be to you?"
"Colonel Holt was my uncle." Observing his surprised expression, she
added, "The inspector suggested that perhaps the fortune Aunt Susan
left to me was given to her by Colonel Holt. I told him the idea was
preposterous. Why, Aunt Susan would have nothing to do with Uncle
Marcus. To my knowledge she never saw him. I doubt if he even knew of
my existence."
Rodgers selected a cigarette. "May I smoke?" he asked, and for answer
she handed him a box of matches. "I wish you and Colonel Holt had known
each other. He was a fine old man; looked like a soldier of the French
Empire."
"Was he a friend of yours?"
"I knew him slightly in a business way." Rodgers puffed at his
cigarette until he had it drawing nicely. "How did Mitchell come to
know that you were related?"
"I don't know," Kitty laughed a trifle vexedly. "The inspector
evidently informed himself as to my relations; he even told me that
Leigh Wallace and I are cousins."
Rodgers favored the "grandfather" clock across the library with a
prolonged stare. Kitty was commencing to wonder at his silence, when he
turned and addressed her.
"So you and Leigh are cousins," he said. "I had not realized that
before. How near is the relationship?"
"We are first cousins, if what Inspector Mitchell said is true. My
mother was Louise Holt, and I suppose her half-sister, Anne, was
Leigh's mother. Odd, is it not, that Leigh never spoke of being related
to me?" she added, after a slight pause.
Rodgers' gaze was transferred from the clock to Kitty. "Was your aunt
aware of the relationship?" he asked.
"I imagine not. We haven't spoken of Colonel Holt for years," she
answered. "Inspector Mitchell said the law suit was one of your big
cases."
"I was called in as a handwriting expert." Rodgers moved restlessly.
"Has Mitchell discovered any clues to your aunt's murder?"
"If he has, he has not confided them to me," she smiled mirthlessly.
"He has succeeded in making me feel very uncomfortable--"
"In what way?" quickly.
"With his suspicions," she hesitated. "He insinuated that--" she
did not complete her sentence; her eyes had strayed to the framed
photograph of Leigh Wallace standing on a near-by table. After all,
she could not voice her suspicions to Edward Rodgers. For nearly a
month she had been aware of a growing coolness between the two men, and
Wallace had been at no pains to conceal his anger whenever he had seen
Kitty walking or motoring with Rodgers. Kitty had never detected any
alteration in Rodgers' manner to Wallace. Whatever his opinion of the
latter's surly behavior it had been cloaked under his customary air of
good fellowship.
"I have something to tell you of more importance than Inspector
Mitchell's veiled insinuations," she said, speaking rapidly to cover
her change of topic. "Just after the Inspector's departure I was
standing here by this table," indicating it as she spoke, "when the
sound of voices reached me and I heard Oscar say: 'I'se done looked
an' looked, an' I tell yo' ole Miss never left no sech papers.' And a
woman's voice replied: 'Please, please keep up your search, Oscar. I'll
give you more than I promised--a hundred dollars more.'"
Rodgers threw away his cigarette and stared at Kitty.
"Who was the woman?" he demanded.
"I do not know." Kitty rose and walked over to the Dutch door. "I tried
to light the library lamp and wasted valuable seconds hunting for
matches. When I finally got the lamp lighted, I found that I was alone
in the library and the voices had come through this panel," laying her
hand on it as she spoke. "I dashed outside but Oscar and his companion
had disappeared in the darkness."
Rodgers followed her to the Dutch door, his face expressing both
astonishment and deep attention.
"Have you no idea who the woman was?" he asked. "Hasn't Oscar told you
her name and why she was bribing him?"
"Oscar," Kitty paused and looked carefully about the library. "Oscar,
according to his wife, took the three o'clock train to Front Royal this
afternoon."
"He did _what_?" shouted Rodgers, then at her startled look, he added
more quietly, "Do you mean that Oscar has left Washington?"
"So Mandy told me."
Rodgers considered Kitty in silence.... Oscar a runaway--the red coat
practically destroyed by fire--the I.O.U.--
Kitty was commencing to wonder at the prolonged silence when Rodgers
spoke.
"At what hour did you overhear Oscar's conversation with the unknown
woman?" he asked.
"About five o'clock."
Rodgers stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I should say that there was a
nigger in the wood-pile," he said softly. "You are quite sure it was
Oscar talking to the woman."
"Absolutely positive."
"Did you recognize the woman's voice?"
Kitty shook her head. "Her voice haunts me still," she said. "But I
cannot place it. The whole affair bewilders me. I do not know what to
think, what to conjecture. Our Oscar and Mandy, my aunt's faithful old
servants, in league against me? Has some one bribed them to lie and
steal--and with what object?"
Rodgers did not reply at once. Suddenly he reached over and, pressing
the catch, slid the panel back and forth as Inspector Mitchell had done
several hours previously. His action reminded Kitty of the incident.
"That panel seems to fascinate you men," she exclaimed. "Inspector
Mitchell spent fully ten minutes commenting upon its well oiled hinges
and its possible use."
"Its use?" Rodgers' voice was of the carrying quality, and it sounded
distinctly through the open panel to a figure crouching in the shadow
of the house. "Has the panel been used for any special purpose?"
"No, it is purely ornamental."
"Didn't the postman ever drop mail through it?"
"No. Our mail box is fastened to the front door."
Rodgers' gaze had strayed to the floor. Stooping down he rubbed his
hand over the bare hardwood boards. "Your flooring is well worn right
here," he said. "Some weight or some one has stood here constantly.
Bend closer and you will see that the varnish is completely worn away."
Kitty followed his suggestion. "I don't understand," she exclaimed,
standing erect. "It bewilders me. What does it mean?"
"Some one has been using this panel--for what purpose we have yet to
find out." Rodgers spoke half to himself, then asked more loudly: "Have
you given all your aunt's papers to Mr. Craige?"
"Yes--even old letters."
"Do you know their contents?"
"I did not stop to read them all." Kitty's troubled expression
deepened. "I gave him every paper I could find."
"I am glad Mr. Craige has them," exclaimed Rodgers heartily. "If he has
the papers which the woman bribed Oscar to secure for her, we can solve
_that_ mystery. There is just one other question, Miss Baird. Did your
aunt see very much of Mrs. Amos Parsons?"
Outside in the shadows the listening figure stiffened as it bent
dangerously close to catch Kitty's answer.
"Not any more than Aunt Susan could help--" Kitty's tired young voice
held a hint of mirth as it came through the open panel. "She abominated
Mrs. Parsons and deeply resented my acting as her secretary."
Rodgers contemplated Kitty for several seconds, then stepped briskly
toward the telephone.
"With your permission," he said, "I'll call up Mr. Craige and ask if he
can see us this evening."