The Avalanche, Gertrude Franklin Horn Atherton [best chinese ebook reader TXT] 📗

Attendance, And Polly Had Begged Ruyler To Stay On

And Let His Wife See Something Of "Real Life."

 

"This Is One Of The Sights Of The World, You Know," She Said, Puffing Her

Cigarette Smoke Into His Face. "It's _Too_ Middle-Class To Be Shocked,

And Not To See Occasionally What You Really Cannot Get Anywhere Else.

Why, There'll Even Be A Lot Of Tourists Here Later On, And These Dancers

Don't Do The Real Apache Until About One. At Least Leave Helene With Me,

If You Care More For Bed Than Fun."

 

But Ruyler Had Merely Laughed And Taken His Wife Home. Helene Had Made

No Protest; On The Contrary Had Put Her Arm Through His In The Car And

Her Head On His Shoulder, Vowing She Was Worn Out, And Glad To Go Home.

It Was Only Afterward That It Occurred To Him That She Had Clung To Him

That Night.

 

Spaulding Entered The Library Without Taking Off His Hat, And Chewing A

Toothpick Vigorously. He Began To Talk At Once, Stretching Himself Out In

A Morris Chair, And Accepting A Cigar. This Time Price Smoked With Him.

 

"Well," Said The Detective, "It's Like The Game Of Button, Button, Who's

Got The Button? Sometimes I Think I'm Getting A Little Warmer And Then I

Go Stone Cold. But I've Found Out A Few Things, Anyhow. How Tall Should

You Say Madame Delano Is? I've Only Seen Her Sitting On Her Throne There

In The Palace Court Lookin' Like An Old Sphinx That's Havin' A Laugh All

To Herself."

 

"About Five Feet Ten."

 

"The Mother Superior Said Six Feet, But No Doubt When She Had Figger

Instead Of Flesh She Looked Taller. Well, I've Discovered No Less Than

Five Tall Handsome Brunettes That Sparkled Here In The Late Eighties And

Early Nineties, But It's The Deuce And All To Get An Exact Description

Out Of Anybody, Especially When Quite A Few Years Have Elapsed. Most

People Don't See Details, Only Effects. That's What We Detectives Come Up

Against All The Time. So, Whether These Ladies Were Five Feet Eight, Five

Feet Ten, Or Six Feet, Whether They Had Large Features Or Small, Big

Hands And Feet Or Fine Points, Or Whether They Added On All The Inches

They Yearned For By Means Of High Heels Or Style, Is Beyond Me. But Here

They Are."

 

He Took His Neat Little Note-Book From His Pocket And Was About To Read

It, When Ruyler Interrupted Him.

 

"But Surely You Know Whether These Women Were French Or Not?"

 

"Aw, That's Just What You Can't Always Find Out. Lots Of 'Em Pretend To

Be, And Others--If They Come From Good Stock In The Old Country--Want You

To Forget It. But The Queens Generally Run To French Names, As Havin' A

Better Commercial Value Than Mary Jane Or Ann Maria. One Of These Was

Marie Garnett, Who Wasn't Much On Her Own But Spun The Wheel In Jim's

Joint Down On Barbary Coast, Which Was Raided Just So Often For Form's

Sake. She Always Made A Quick Getaway, Was Never Up In Court, And Died

Young. Gabrielle Ran An Establishment Down On Geary Street And Was One Of

The Swellest Lookers And Swellest Togged Dames In Her Profession Till The

Drink Got Her. I Can't Find That She Ever Hooked Up To A James Or Any One

Else. Pauline-Marie Was Another Razzle-Dazzle Who Swooped Out Here From

Nowhere And Burrowed Into Quite A Few Fortunes And Put Quite A Few Of Our

Society Leaders Into Mourning. She Disappeared And I Can't Trace Her, But

She Seems To Have Been The Handsomest Of The Bunch, And Was Fond Of

Showing Herself At First Nights, Dressed Straight From Paris, Until Some

Of Our War-Hardened 'Leaders' Called Upon The Managers In A Body And

Threatened Never To Set Foot Inside Their Doors Again Unless She Was Kept

Out, And The Managers Succumbed. Then There Was The Friend Of A Rich

Englishman, Whose First Name I Haven't Been Able To Get Hold Of. They

Lived First At Santa Barbara, Then Loafed Up And Down The Coast For A

Year Or Two, Spending Quite A Time In San Francisco. She Was 'Foreign

Looking' And A Stunner, All Right. All Of These Dames Drifted Out About

The Same Time--"

 

"What Was The Englishman's Name?"

 

"J. Horace Medford. Front Name May Or May Not Have Been James. I Doubt If

His Name Could Be Found On Any Deeds, Even In The South, Where There Was

No Fire. He Doesn't Seem To Have Bought Any Property Or Transacted Any

Business. Just Lived On A Good-Sized Income. Of Course, All The Hotel

Registers Here Were Burnt, But I Wired To Santa Barbara And Monterey And

Got What I Have Given You.

 

"He Had A Yacht, And He Took The Woman With Him Everywhere. There Was

Always A Flutter When They Appeared At The Theater. Of Course She Went By

His Name, But As He Never Presented A Letter All The Time He Was Here And

It Was Quite Obvious He Could Have Brought All He Wanted, And As Men Are

Always 'On' Anyhow, There Was But One Conclusion."

 

"Where Did He Bank? They Might Have His Full Name."

 

"Bank Of California, But His Remittances Were Sent To Order Of J. Horace

Medford, And, Of Course, He Signed His Cheques The Same Way."

 

"That Sounds The Most Likely Of The Lot--And The Most Hopeful."

 

"Well, Haven't Handed You The Fifth Yet, And To My Mind She's The Most

Likely Of All. Ever Hear Of James Lawton's Trouble With His Wife?"

 

"Trouble? I Thought She Died."

 

"She--Did--Not. She Went East Suddenly About Fifteen Years Ago, And Soon

After A Notice Of Her Death Appeared In The San Francisco Papers. But

There Was A Tale Of Woe (For Old Lawton) That I Doubt If Most Of Her Own

Crowd Had Even A Suspicion Of."

 

"Good Heavens!" Ruyler Recalled The Apparent Intimacy Of His

Mother-In-Law And The Senior Member Of The Respectable Firm Of Lawton And

Cross. If "Madame Delano" Were The Former Mrs. Lawton, How Many Things

Would Be Explained.

 

"This Woman's Name Was Marie All Right, And She Was French, Although She

Seems To Have Been Adopted By Some People Named Dubois And Brought Up In

California. She Was Quite The Proper Thing In High Society, But The

Trouble Was That She Liked Another Sort Better. She Was A Regular

Fly-By-Night. It Began When Norton Moore, A Rotten Limb Of One Of The

Grandest Trees In San Francisco Society--So Respectable They Didn't Know

There Was Any Side To Life But Their Own--Sneaked Mrs. Lawton And Three

Girls Out Of His Mother's House One Night When She Was Givin' A Ball, Put

'Em In A Hack And Took 'Em Down To Gabrielle's. There They Spent An Hour

Lookin' At Gabrielle's Swell Bunch Dressed Up And Doin' The Grand Society

Act With Some Of The Men-About-Town. Then They Danced Some And Opened A

Bottle Or Two.

 

"I Never Heard That This Little Jaunt Hurt The Girls Any, But It Woke Up

Something In Mrs. Lawton. After That--Well, There Are Stories Without

End. Won't Take Up Your Time Tellin' Them. The Upshot Was That One Night

Lawton, Who Took A Fling Himself Once In A While, Met Her At Gabrielle's

Or Some Other Joint, And She Went East A Day Or Two After. I Suppose He

Didn't Get A Divorce, Partly On Account Of The Kid--Aileen--Partly

Because He Had No Intention Of Trying His Luck Again."

 

"But Is There Any Evidence That She Had Another Child--That She

Hid Away?"

 

"No, But It Might Easy Have Been. This Life Went On For About Eight

Years, And It Was At Least Five That She And Lawton Merely Lived Under

The Same Roof For The Sake Of Aileen. They Never Did Get On. That Much,

At Least, Was Well Known. It Might Easy Be--"

 

Ruyler Made A Rapid Calculation. Aileen Lawton Was Just About Three Years

Older Than Helene. She Was Fair Like Her Father. There Was No Resemblance

Between Her And His Wife, But The Intimacy Between Them Had Been

Spontaneous And Had Never Lapsed. She Had Grown Up Quite Unrestrained And

Spoilt, And Broken Three Engagements, And Was Always Rushing About

Proclaiming In One Breath, That California Was The Greatest Place On

Earth And In The Next That She Should Go Mad If She Didn't Get Out And

Have A Change. Another Grievance Was That Although Her Father Let Her

Have Her Own Way, Or Rather Did Not Pretend To Control Her, He Gave Her A

Rather Niggardly Allowance For Her Personal Expenses And She Was Supposed

To Be Heavily In Debt. Ruyler Thought He Could Guess Where A Good Deal Of

His Wife's Spare Cash Had Gone To. He Disliked Aileen Lawton As Much As

He Did Polly Roberts; More, If Anything, Because She Might Have Been

Clever And She Chose To Be A Fool. Both Of These Intimate Friends Of His

Wife Were The Reverse Of The Superb Outdoor Type He Admired.

 

"Good Lord!" He Said. "I Don't Think There's Much Choice."

 

But In A Moment He Shook His Head. "Too Many Things Don't Connect. Where

Did She Get The Money To Go To Her Relations In Rouen--"

 

"He Pensioned Her Off, Of Course."

 

"And The Child? How Did He Consent To Let Her Return Here With A Daughter

He Probably Never Had Heard Of--"

 

"I Figger Out, Either That She Came Into Some Money From A Relation Over

In France, Or Else She Has Something On The Old Boy, And Wanting To Come

Back Here And Marry Her Daughter, She Held Him Up. He's A Pillar Of The

Church, Been One Of The Presidents Of The Pacific-Union Club, Has Argued

Cases Before The Supreme Court That Have Been Cabled All Over The

Country. When A Man Of That Sort Gets To Lawton's Time Of Life He Don't

Want Any Scandals."

 

"All The Same," Said Ruyler Positively, "I Don't Believe It. I Think It

Far More Likely That He Was A Friend Of Madame Delano's Husband--Assuming

That She Had One--And That Some Money Was Left With Him In Trust For Her

Or The Child."

 

"Well, It May Be, But I Incline To Lawton--"

 

"There's One Person Would Know--"

 

"'Gene Bisbee. But I Never Went To That Bunch Yet For Any Information,

And I Don't Go This Time Except As A Last Resort. Of Course He Knows, And

That Is One Reason I Believe She Is Mrs. Lawton. He Was Gabrielle's

Maquereau For Years--When He'd Wrung Enough Out Of Her He Set Up For

Himself--Well, I Ain't Through Yet, By A Long Sight. Beliefs Ain't

Proof." He Rose Slowly From The Deep Chair, Stretched Himself, And

Settled His Hat Firmly On His Head.

 

"What's This I Hear About A Wonderful Ruby Your Wife Wore Up To Gwynne's

The Other Night? Gosh! I'd Like To See A Sparkler Like That."

 

"Why, By All Means."

 

Ruyler Swung The Bookcase Outward, Opened The Safe And Handed Him The

Ruby. Spaulding Regarded It With Bulging Eyes, And Touched It With His

Finger Tips Much As He Would A Newborn Babe. "Some Stone!" He Said, As He

Handed It Back, "But Why In Thunder Don't You Keep It In A Safe Deposit

Box? There Are Crooks That Can Crack Any Safe, And If They Got Wise To

This--Oh, Howdy, Ma'am--"

 

Helene Had Come In And Stood Behind The Two Men.

 

Spaulding Snatched Off His Hat And She Acknowledged Her Husband's

Introduction Graciously. She Was Dressed For The Evening In White. Her

Eyes Looked Abnormally Large, And She Kept Dropping Her Lids As If To

Keep Them From Setting In A Stare. Her Lovely Mouth With Its Soft Curves

Was Faded And Set. The Whole Face Was Almost As Stiff As A Mask, And Even

Her Graceful Body Was Rigid. Ruyler Saw Spaulding Give Her A Sharp

"Sizing-Up" Look, As He Murmured,

 

"Well, So Long, Guv. See You To-Morrow. Hope The Man'll Turn Out All

Right After All."

 

"I Hope So. He's A Good Chap Otherwise."

 

"Good Night, Ma'am. Tell Your Husband To Put That Ruby In A Safe

Deposit Box."

 

"Oh, Nobody Knows The Safe Is There Except Mr. Ruyler And Myself--"

 

"There Have Been Safes Hidden Behind Bookcases Before," Said Spaulding

Dryly. "And Crooks, Like All The Other Pests Of The Earth, Just Drift

Naturally To This Coast. If I Were You I'd Have A Detective On Hand

Whenever You Wear That Bit O' Glass--Not At A Friendly Affair Like The

Gwynnes' Dinner, Of Course, But--"

 

"Good Idea!" Exclaimed Ruyler. "My Wife Will Wear The Ruby To The

Thornton Fete On The Fourteenth. Will You Be On Hand To Guard It?"

 

"Won't I? About Half Our Force Is Engaged For That Blow-Out, But No One

But Yours Truly Shall Be Guardian Angel For The Ruby. Well, Good Night

Once More, And Good Luck."

 

       *       *       *       *       *

 

As Soon As The Detective Had Gone Ruyler Drew His Wife To Him Anxiously,

"What Is It, Helene? You Look--Well, You Don't Look