The Holladay Case: A Tale, Burton Egbert Stevenson [best books to read for women txt] 📗

saw the wisdom of her words, and said so.

"That's very kind of you," I added. "I am sure Mr. Royce will agree—but we have first to find her, Miss Kemball."

I was glad for my own sake, too; the parting[Pg 243] of to-morrow would not, then, be a final one. I should see her again. I tried to say something of this, but my tongue faltered and refused to shape the words.

She left me, presently, and for an hour or more I sat there and looked, in every aspect, at the theory she had suggested. Certainly, there was nothing to disprove it; and yet, as she had said, it merely served to deepen the mystery. Who were these people, I asked myself again, who dared to play so bold and desperate a game? The illegitimate daughter might, of course, impersonate Miss Holladay; but who was the elder woman? Her mother? Then the liaison must have taken place in France—her accent was not to be mistaken; but in France Mr. Holladay had been always with his wife. Besides, the younger woman spoke English perfectly. True, she had said only a few words—the hoarseness might have been affected to conceal a difference in voice—but how explain the elder woman's resemblance[Pg 244] to Hiram Holladay's daughter? Could they both be illegitimate? But that was nonsense, for Mrs. Holladay had taken her into her life, had loved her——

And Martigny? Who was he? What was his connection with these women? That the crime had been carefully planned I could not doubt; and it had been carried out with surprising skill. There had been no nervous halting at the supreme moments, no hesitation nor drawing back; instead, a coolness of execution almost fiendish, arguing a hardened and practiced hand.

Doubtless it was Martigny who had arranged the plot, who had managed its development. And with what boldness! He had not feared to be present at the inquest; nor even to approach me and discuss the case with me. I tried to recall the details of our talk, impatient that I had paid so little heed to it. He had asked, I remembered, what would happen to Frances Holladay if she were found guilty. He had been anxious,[Pg 245] then, to save her. He had—yes, I saw it now!—he had written the note which did save her; he had run the risk of discovery to get her free!

But why?

If I only had a clew; one thread to follow! One ray of light would be enough! Then I could see my way out of this hopeless tangle; I should know how to strike. But to stumble blindly onward in the dark—that might do more harm than good.

Yes, and there was another thing for me to guard against. What was to prevent him, the moment he stepped ashore, wiring to his confederates, warning them, telling them to flee? Or he might wait, watching us, until he saw that they were really in danger. In either event, they must easily escape; Miss Kemball had been right when she pointed out that our only hope was in catching them unprepared. If I could throw him off, deceive him, convince him that there was no danger![Pg 246]

The impulse was too strong to be resisted. In a moment I was on my feet—but, no—to surprise him would be to make him suspect! I called a steward.

"Take this card up to Monsieur Martigny," I said, "in 375, and ask if he is well enough to see me."

As he hurried away, a sudden doubt seized me; horrified at my hardihood, I opened my mouth to call him back. But I did not call: instead, I sank back into my chair and stared out across the water. Had I done well? Was it wise to tempt Providence? Would I prove a match for my enemy? The next half hour would tell. Perhaps he would not see me; he could plead illness; he might be really too ill.

"Monsieur Martigny," said the steward's voice at my elbow, "answers that he will be most pleased to see Monsieur Lester at once."

[Pg 247]

CHAPTER XVI I Beard the Lion

Martigny was lying back in his berth, smoking a cigarette, and, as I entered, he motioned me to a seat on the locker against the wall.

"It was most kind of you to come," he said, with his old smile.

"It was only by accident I learned you were on board," I explained, as I sat down. "You're getting better?"

"I believe so; though this physician is—what you call—an alarmist—most of them are, indeed; the more desperate the illness, the more renowned the cure! Is it not so? He has even forbidden me cigarettes, but I prefer to die than to do without them. Will you not have one?" and he motioned to the pile that lay beside him.

"Thank you," I said, selected one, and lighted it. "Your cigarettes are not to be[Pg 248] resisted. But if you are so ill, why did you attempt the voyage? Was it not imprudent?"

"A sudden call of business," he explained airily; "unexpected but—what you call—imperative. Besides, this bed is the same as any other. You see, I have a week of rest."

"The doctor—it was he who mentioned your name to me—it was not on the sailing-list——"

"No." He was looking at me sharply. "I came on board at the last moment—the need was ver' sudden, as I have said. I had not time to engage a stateroom."

"That explains it. Well, the doctor told me that you were bed-fast."

"Yes—since the voyage began I have not left it. I shall not arise until we reach Havre to-morrow."

I watched him as he went through the familiar motion of lighting a second cigarette[Pg 249] from the first one. In the half-light of the cabin, I had not at first perceived how ill he looked; now, I saw the dark patches under the eyes, the livid and flabby face, the shaking hand. And for the first time, with a little shock, I realized how near he had been to death.

"But you, Mistair Lester," he was saying, "how does it occur that you also are going to France? I did not know you contemplated——"

"No," I answered calmly, for I had seen that the question was inevitable and I even welcomed it, since it gave me opportunity to get my guns to going. "No; the last time I saw you, I didn't contemplate it, but a good deal has happened since then. Would you care to hear? Are you strong enough to talk?"

Oh, how I relished tantalizing him!

"I should like very exceedingly to hear," he assured me, and shifted his position a little, so that his face was in the shadow.[Pg 250] "The beams of light through the shutter make my eyes to hurt," he added.

So he mistrusted himself; so he was not finding the part an easy one, either! The thought gave me new courage, new audacity.

"You may remember," I began, "that I told you once that if I ever went to work on the Holladay case, I'd try first to find the murderess. I succeeded in doing it the very first day."

"Ah!" he breathed. "And after the police had failed! That was, indeed, remarkable. How did you accomplish it?"

"By the merest chance—by great good fortune. I was making a search of the French quarter, house by house, when, on Houston Street, I came to a restaurant, the Café Jourdain. A bottle of supérieur set Jourdain's tongue to wagging; I pretended I wanted a room; he dropped a word, the merest hint; and, in the end, I got the whole story. It seems there was not only one woman, there were two."[Pg 251]

"Yes?"

"Yes—and a man whose name was Betuny or Bethune, or something like that. But I didn't pay much attention to him—he doesn't figure in the case. He didn't even go away with the women. The very day I set out on my search, he was picked up on the streets somewhere suffering with apoplexy and taken to a hospital, so nearly dead that it was a question whether he would recover. So he's out of it. The Jourdains told me that the women had sailed for France."

"You will pardon me," said my hearer, "but in what way did you make sure that they were the women you desired?"

"By the younger one's resemblance to Miss Holladay," I answered, lying with a glibness which surprised myself. "The Jourdains maintained that a photograph of Miss Holladay was really one of their lodger."

I heard him draw a deep breath, but[Pg 252] he kept his face under admirable control.

"Ah, yes," he said. "That was exceedingly clever. I should never have thought of that. That is worthy of Monsieur Lecoq. And so you follow them to France—but, surely, you have some more—what you call—definite address than that, Mistair Lester!"

I could feel his eyes burning out from the shadows; I was thankful for the cigarette—it helped me to preserve an indifferent countenance.

"No," I said. "It seems rather a wild-goose chase, doesn't it? But you could advise me, Mr. Martigny. Where would it be best for me to search for them?"

He did not answer for a moment, and I took advantage of the opportunity to select a second cigarette and light it. I dared not remain unoccupied; I dared not meet his eyes; I trembled to see that my hand was not wholly steady.[Pg 253]

"That," he began slowly, at last, "seems to me a most—ah!—deeficult affair, Mistair Lester. To search for three people through all France—there seems little hope of success. Yet I should think it most likely that they have gone to Paris."

I nodded. "That was my own theory," I agreed. "But to find them in Paris, seems also impossible."

"Not if one uses the police," he said. "It could, most probably, be soon achieved, if you requested the police to assist you."

"But, my dear sir," I protested. "I can't use the police. Miss Holladay, at least, has committed no crime; she has simply chosen to go away without informing us."

"You will permit me to say, then, Mistair Lester," he observed, with just a touch of irony, "that I fail to comprehend your anxiety concerning her."

I felt that I had made a mis-step; that I had need to go carefully.

"It is not quite so simple as that," I explained.[Pg 254] "The last time we saw Miss Holladay, she told us that she was ill, and intended to go to her country home for a rest. Instead of going there, she sailed for France, without informing anyone—indeed, doing everything she could to escape detection. That conduct seems so eccentric that we feel in duty bound to investigate it. Besides, two days before she left she received from us a hundred thousand dollars in cash."

I saw him move uneasily on his bed; after all, this advantage of mine was no small one. No wonder he grew restless under this revelation of secrets which were not secrets!

"Ah!" he said softly; and again, "Ah! Yes, that seems peculiar. Yet, perhaps, if you had waited for a letter——"

"Suppose we had waited, and there had been no letter—suppose, in consequence of waiting, we should be too late?"

"Too late? Too late for what, Mistair Lester? What is it you fear for her?"

"I don't know," I answered; "but something—something.[Pg 255] At least, we could not assume the responsibility of delay."

"No," he agreed; "perhaps not. You are doubtless quite right to investigate. I wish you success—I wish that I myself might aid you, there is so much of interest in the case to me; but I fear that to be impossible. I must rest—I who have so many affairs calling me, so little desire to rest! Is not the fate ironical?"

And he breathed a sigh, which was doubtless genuine enough.

"Will you go to Paris?" I asked.

"Oh, no; not at once. At Havre I shall meet my agent and transact my affairs with him. Then I shall seek some place of quiet along the coast."

"Yes," I said to myself, with leaping heart, "Etretat!" But I dared not speak the word.

"I shall write to you," he added, "when I have settled. Where do you stay at Paris?"[Pg 256]

"We haven't decided yet," I said.

"We?" he repeated.

"Didn't I tell you? Mr. Royce, our junior partner, is with me—he's had a breakdown in health, too, and needed a rest."

"It is no matter where you stay," he said; "I shall write to you at the poste restante. I should like both you and your friend to be my guests before you return to Amer-ric'."

There was a courtesy, a