Some Must Watch, Ethel Lina White [crime books to read txt] 📗

CHAPTER XV

SECRET INTELLIGENCE

 

The knocking ceased, and a bell was pealed which brought Helen

instinctively to her feet.

 

“I’ll answer the door,” she said,

 

She crossed the room before she realized the significance of her action.

No one else had moved; but all were looking at her—their expressions

passive, scornful, or amused, according to temperament.

 

The Professor nodded at his sister—a sardonic gleam in his gleam in his

eye.

 

“The weak link,” he observed, in an undertone.

 

The familiarity of the phrase brought home to Helen its special meaning,

so that she colored to the rqots of her hair.

 

“I’m sorry,” she faltered, “but it’s second-nature for me to answer a

bell.”

 

“You gave us a demonstration of that,” said the Professor acidly. “I

don’t wish to be severe, but you must remember that forgetfulness, in

this case, ranks with disobedience.”

 

The knocking was repeated, and again a bell pealed in the distance. Even

although she was under observation, and on her guard, Helen found it an

ordeal to stand by and do nothing.

 

“It’s like watching milk boil over,” she thought, “or seeing a child

play with fire. Someone ought to do something. I’m sure it is all

wrong.”

 

She noticed how the muscles of Miss Warren’s face quivered at every

blow, and her own nerves twitched in sympathy.

 

A third assault was made on the door. This time Stephen seemed conscious

of the tension.

 

“Look here, sir, with due deference to you and all that isn’t this

going a bit too far? Cutting all the wires, I mean. That may be the

postman, with an unstamped letter for me, to say my Cousin Fanny has

passed out, and left me her heir.”

 

The Professor explained, with the dreary patience with which he

enlightened a pupil’s ignorance. “I have just given an order, Rice. It

would be reactionary conduct on my part to commit the same fault for

which I’ve just rebuked Miss Capel. If once we begin to make exceptions

to a precaution which is intended for the general safety, it ceases to

have any value.”

 

“Yes, sir.” Stephen grimaced at a fourth, and louder assault on the

knocker and bell. “But it gets my goat not knowing who’s outside.”

 

“Oh, my dear Rice, why didn’t you say that in the beginning?” The

Professor’s smile flickered and went out. “Of course, it is the Police.”

 

“Police?” echoed Newton. “Why have they to come here?”

 

“A mere formality, since the Summit is in the radius of—of this affair.

They will want to know if we can furnish them with any information. If

they would accept a negative answer, and go, I would relax my rule in

their favor.”

 

“But you can’t keep them out, Sebastian,” cried Miss Warren.

 

“I have no intention of keeping them out. When they call tomorrow, they

will be admitted. I’m master of my house, and I’ve wasted too much time

already, tonight.”

 

Through his glasses, his eyes flashed hungrily over the papers on his

desk…

 

Helen hoped fervently that Mrs. Oates would answer the door, for the

Police seemed a direct answer to prayer. She had a mental vision of a

compact body of solid, uniformed men, bringing with them the protection

of the Law.

 

Suddenly she thought that she might force the Pro fessor’s hand.

 

“But I could tell them something,” she said.

 

“Miss Capel,” he said, in measured tones, “have you any clear, concise

knowledge that will be of definite use to the Police? For.

instance—have you seen the criminal, so that you could describe him?”

 

“No,” replied Helen.

 

“Then, have you any idea as to who he is, or where he is?”

 

“No,” replied Helen, wishing she could sink into the floor.

 

“Well—have you any valuable theory?”

 

“No, but—but I think he hides behind trees.”

 

Simone led the suppressed laughter, in which even Miss Warren joined.

 

“Thank you, Miss Capel,” said the Professor. “I think the Police can

wait for your help, until tomorrow morning.”

 

Helen’s heart sank, It seemed always “tomorrow,” and she still dreaded

the night which divided her from the dawn.

 

The Professor, however, seemed to have some pity for her confusion, for

he spoke to her, in the voice of a considerate employer.

 

“Now, Miss Capel, will you be so kind as to tell Mrs. Oates and Nurse

Barker, my decision.”

 

“Indeed, I will,” Helen assured him.

 

“I suppose Gran doesn’t know about the murder?” asked Newton.

 

“No,” replied Miss Warren, “neither she nor the nurse can know. I’m the

only person who has been upstairs, since Dr. Parry brought us the news.

And I should certainly not dream of alarming her.”

 

“She must not be told,” commanded the Professor.

 

The hall was silent when Helen passed through it. The Professor had worn

down the patience of the Police, who happened to be in the singular

person. After exposure to what was practically a water-spout, he drew

his own conclusion from the barred windows, and decided to call

bydaylight. Apparently the fear of the maniac had spread from the

cottages to the big houses of the neighborhood.

 

When Helen reached the kitchen, to her surprise, she was unable to

enter. At first, Mrs. Oates did not answer her tap; but presently, a

huge distorted shadow crossed the frosted glass of the door, and a key

clicked in the lock.

 

Mrs. Oates towered over her, with a confused red face and sleepy eyes.

 

“Must have lost myself,” she explained.

 

“But is it safe to go to sleep with the door locked?” asked Helen,

“Suppose your clothes caught on fire, and we couldn’t get at you?”

 

“Yes, you could. Nearly all the locks here has the same key; only you

can’t turn them, because they’re never used,”

 

“Naturally,” said Helen. “You only lock your door in loose houses, and

hotels. I’ve always taken pure situations, and I’ve never locked my door

in my life.”

 

“Well, if I was you, I’d oil my key, and lock my door, tonight,” said

Mrs: Oates.

 

“How useful,” laughed Helen, “if any other key would fit it.”

 

“But theirs would be rusty,” explained Mrs. Oates.

 

When Helen delivered the Professor’s message, she jerked her head

defiantly.

 

“Thank his lordship for nothing. Doors are not my work, and never was.”

 

As she retreated inside the kitchen, Helen caught her sleeve.

 

“Please, Mrs. Oates, don’t lock the door,” she entreated.

 

“I’d hate to feel I couldn’t reach you. I’m such a fool, tonight. But I

depend on you, more than anyone else in the house.”

 

“That’s right.” Mrs. Oates shot out her jaw in the old aggressive way.

“If anyone gets in, I’ll knock his block off.”

 

With the comforting assurance ringing in her ears, Helen mounted the

stairs, to the blue room, which had regained some of its former

fascination. As though she had been listening for her step, the door

slid open an inch, to reveal. Nurse Barker.

 

“I’ve something to tell you,” Helen whispered. “There’s been another

murder.”

 

Nurse Barker listened to every detail. She asked questions about

Ceridwen’s character, her duties about the house, her lovers. At the end

of the story, she gave a short laugh.

 

“She’s no loss, Her sort asks for it.”

 

“What d’you mean by ‘her sort’?” asked Helen.

 

“Oh, I know the type. You’ve not got to tell me’… Sluttish. Little

dark eyes, saying ‘Come into a dark corner,’ to every man. A slobbery

red mouth, saying ‘Kiss me. A lump of lust.”

 

Helen stared as Nurse Barker reeled off the glib description, for she

had not mentioned Ceridwen’s personal appearance.

 

“Have you heard of Ceridwen before?” she asked.

 

“Of course not.”

 

“Then how did you know what she looked like?”

 

“Welsh.”

 

“But all Welsh girls are not like that.”

 

Nurse Barker merely changed the subject. “As for the Professor’s orders

about the doors, they are not necessary, Answering doors is not part of

a nurse’s duty. And I should certainly not risk my life by going

outside, in this storm. It is an insult to my intelligence.”

 

Helen felt more at her ease when Nurse Barker exalted her own

importance. She became a definite type—which, although unpleasant—was

only too common, in her experience. It did not pair with that mephitic

shade—raised by Mrs. Oates—the midnight hag, who crept down the stairs,

when the household was asleep, to let in Murder.

 

“Nurse!”

 

At the familiar bass voice, Nurse Barker turned to Helen.

 

“I want to go down to the kitchen, to see about certain things,” she

said, “Could you stay with her?”

 

“Certainly,” replied Helen.

 

“Not frightened now?” sneered Nurse Barker. “When did you have a change

of heart?” “I was just silly before,” explained Helen. “I’m a bit run

down. But now we’ve got something real to fight, fancies must go to the

wall.”

 

With her old confidence, she entered the bllle room, expecting a

welcome. But Lady Warren seemed to have for gotten her former interest.