The Circular Staircase - Mary Roberts Rinehart (big screen ebook reader TXT) š
- Author: Mary Roberts Rinehart
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I fixed on an attempt at burglary, as the most natural explanationāan attempt frustrated by the falling of the object, whatever it was, that had roused me. Two things I could not understand: how the intruder had escaped with everything locked, and why he had left the small silver, which, in the absence of a butler, had remained downstairs over night.
Under pretext of learning more about the place, Thomas Johnson led me through the house and the cellars, without result. Everything was in good order and repair; money had been spent lavishly on construction and plumbing. The house was full of conveniences, and I had no reason to repent my bargain, save the fact that, in the nature of things, night must come again. And other nights must followāand we were a long way from a police-station.
In the afternoon a hack came up from Casanova, with a fresh relay of servants. The driver took them with a flourish to the servantsā entrance, and drove around to the front of the house, where I was awaiting him.
āTwo dollars,ā he said in reply to my question. āI donāt charge full rates, because, bringinā āem up all summer as I do, it pays to make a special price. When they got off the train, I sez, sez I, `Thereās another bunch for Sunnyside, cook, parlor maid and all.ā Yesāmāsix summers, and a new lot never less than once a month. They wonāt stand for the country and the lonesomeness, I reckon.ā
But with the presence of the ābunchā of servants my courage revived, and late in the afternoon came a message from Gertrude that she and Halsey would arrive that night at about eleven oāclock, coming in the car from Richfield. Things were looking up; and when Beulah, my cat, a most intelligent animal, found some early catnip on a bank near the house and rolled in it in a feline ecstasy, I decided that getting back to nature was the thing to do.
While I was dressing for dinner, Liddy rapped at the door. She was hardly herself yet, but privately I think she was worrying about the broken mirror and its augury, more than anything else. When she came in she was holding something in her hand, and she laid it on the dressing-table carefully.
āI found it in the linen hamper,ā she said. āIt must be Mr. Halseyās, but it seems queer how it got there.ā
It was the half of a link cuff-button of unique design, and I looked at it carefully.
āWhere was it? In the bottom of the hamper?ā I asked.
āOn the very top,ā she replied. āItās a mercy it didnāt fall out on the way.ā
When Liddy had gone I examined the fragment attentively. I had never seen it before, and I was certain it was not Halseyās. It was of Italian workmanship, and consisted of a mother-of-pearl foundation, encrusted with tiny seed-pearls, strung on horsehair to hold them. In the center was a small ruby. The trinket was odd enough, but not intrinsically of great value. Its interest for me lay in this: Liddy had found it lying in the top of the hamper which had blocked the east-wing stairs.
That afternoon the Armstrongsā housekeeper, a youngish good-looking woman, applied for Mrs. Ralstonās place, and I was glad enough to take her. She looked as though she might be equal to a dozen of Liddy, with her snapping black eyes and heavy jaw. Her name was Anne Watson, and I dined that evening for the first time in three days.
I had dinner served in the breakfast-room. Somehow the huge dining-room depressed me, and Thomas, cheerful enough all day, allowed his spirits to go down with the sun. He had a habit of watching the corners of the room, left shadowy by the candles on the table, and altogether it was not a festive meal.
Dinner over I went into the living-room. I had three hours before the children could possibly arrive, and I got out my knitting. I had brought along two dozen pairs of slipper soles in assorted sizesāI always send knitted slippers to the Old Ladiesā Home at Christmasāand now I sorted over the wools with a grim determination not to think about the night before. But my mind was not on my work: at the end of a half-hour I found I had put a row of blue scallops on Eliza Klinefelterās lavender slippers, and I put them away.
I got out the cuff-link and went with it to the pantry. Thomas was wiping silver and the air was heavy with tobacco smoke. I sniffed and looked around, but there was no pipe to be seen.
āThomas,ā I said, āyou have been smoking.ā
āNo, maām.ā He was injured innocence itself. āItās on my coat, maām. Over at the club the gentlemenāā
But Thomas did not finish. The pantry was suddenly filled with the odor of singeing cloth. Thomas gave a clutch at his coat, whirled to the sink, filled a tumbler with water and poured it into his right pocket with the celerity of practice.
āThomas,ā I said, when he was sheepishly mopping the floor, āsmoking is a filthy and injurious habit. If you must smoke, you must; but donāt stick a lighted pipe in your pocket again. Your skinās your own: you can blister it if you like. But this house is not mine, and I donāt want a conflagration. Did you ever see this cuff-link before?ā
No, he never had, he said, but he looked at it oddly.
āI picked it up in the hall,ā I added indifferently. The old manās eyes were shrewd under his bushy eyebrows.
āThereās strange goinās-on here, Misā Innes,ā he said, shaking his head. āSomethinās goinā to happen, sure. You aināt took notice that the big clock in the hall is stopped, I reckon?ā
āNonsense,ā I said. āClocks have to stop, donāt they, if theyāre not wound?ā
āItās wound up, all right, and it stopped at three oāclock last night,ā he answered solemnly. āMoreān that, that there clock aināt stopped for fifteen years, not since Mr. Armstrongās first wife died. And that aināt all,āno MAāM. Last three nights I slepā in this place, after the electrics went out I had a token. My oil lamp was full of oil, but it kepā goinā out, do what I would. Minute I shet my eyes, out that lampād go. There aināt no surer token of death. The Bible sez, LET YER LIGHT SHINE! When a hand you canāt see puts yer light out, it means death, sure.ā
The old manās voice was full of conviction. In spite of myself I had a chilly sensation in the small of my back, and I left him mumbling over his dishes. Later on I heard a crash from the pantry, and Liddy reported that Beulah, who is coal black, had darted in front of Thomas just as he picked up a tray of dishes; that the bad omen had been too much for him, and he had dropped the tray.
The chug of the automobile as it climbed the hill was the most welcome sound I had heard for a long time, and with Gertrude and Halsey actually before me, my troubles seemed over for good. Gertrude stood smiling in the hall, with her hat quite over one ear, and her hair in every direction under her pink veil. Gertrude is a very pretty girl, no matter how her hat is, and I was not surprised when Halsey presented a good-looking young man, who bowed at me and looked at Trudeāthat is the ridiculous nickname Gertrude brought from school.
āI have brought a guest, Aunt Ray,ā Halsey said. āI want you to adopt him into your affections and your Saturday-to-Monday list. Let me present John Bailey, only you must call him Jack. In twelve hours heāll be calling you `Auntā: I know him.ā
We shook hands, and I got a chance to look at Mr. Bailey; he was a tall fellow, perhaps thirty, and he wore a small mustache. I remember wondering why: he seemed to have a good mouth and when he smiled his teeth were above the average. One never knows why certain men cling to a messy upper lip that must get into things, any more than one understands some women building up their hair on wire atrocities. Otherwise, he was very good to look at, stalwart and tanned, with the direct gaze that I like. I am particular about Mr. Bailey, because he was a prominent figure in what happened later.
Gertrude was tired with the trip and went up to bed very soon. I made up my mind to tell them nothing; until the next day, and then to make as light of our excitement as possible. After all, what had I to tell? An inquisitive face peering in at a window; a crash in the night; a scratch or two on the stairs, and half a cuff-button! As for Thomas and his forebodings, it was always my belief that a negro is one part thief, one part pigment, and the rest superstition.
It was Saturday night. The two men went to the billiard-room, and I could hear them talking as I went upstairs. It seemed that Halsey had stopped at the Greenwood Club for gasolene and found Jack Bailey there, with the Sunday golf crowd. Mr. Bailey had not been hard to persuadeāprobably Gertrude knew whyāand they had carried him off triumphantly. I roused Liddy to get them something to eatāThomas was beyond reach in the lodgeāand paid no attention to her evident terror of the kitchen regions. Then I went to bed. The men were still in the billiard-room when I finally dozed off, and the last thing I remember was the howl of a dog in front of the house. It wailed a crescendo of woe that trailed off hopefully, only to break out afresh from a new point of the compass.
At three oāclock in the morning I was roused by a revolver shot. The sound seemed to come from just outside my door. For a moment I could not move. ThenāI heard Gertrude stirring in her room, and the next moment she had thrown open the connecting door.
āO Aunt Ray! Aunt Ray!ā she cried hysterically. āSome one has been killed, killed!ā
āThieves,ā I said shortly. āThank goodness, there are some men in the house tonight.ā I was getting into my slippers and a bath-robe, and Gertrude with shaking hands was lighting a lamp. Then we opened the door into the hall, where, crowded on the upper landing of the stairs, the maids, white-faced and trembling, were peering down, headed by Liddy. I was greeted by a series of low screams and questions, and I tried to quiet them.
Gertrude had dropped on a chair and sat there limp and shivering.
I went at once across the hall to Halseyās room and knocked; then I pushed the door open. It was empty; the bed had not been occupied!
āHe must be in Mr. Baileyās room,ā I said excitedly, and followed by Liddy, we went there. Like Halseyās, it had not been occupied! Gertrude was on her feet now, but she leaned against the door for support.
āThey have been killed!ā she gasped. Then she caught me by the arm and dragged me toward the stairs. āThey may only be hurt, and we must find them,ā she said, her eyes dilated with excitement.
I donāt remember how we got down the stairs: I do remember expecting every
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