The Red Symbol. Ironside John

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      “Anne! Why, what on earth do you mean?” she faltered.

      “He doesn’t mean anything, except that he’s considerably upset,” said Jim’s hearty voice, close at hand. He had followed us in from the garden. “You go back to your guests, little woman, and make ’em talk about anything in the world except this murder affair. Try frocks and frills; when Amy Vereker starts on them there’s no stopping her; and if they won’t serve, try palmistry and spooks and all that rubbish. Leave Maurice to me. He’s faint with hunger, and inclined to make an ass of himself even more than usual! Off with you!”

      Mary made a queer little sound, that was half a sob, half a laugh.

      “All right; I’ll obey orders for once, you dear, wise old Jim. Make him come back to-night, though.”

      She moved away, a slender ghostlike little figure in her white gown; and Jim laid a heavy, kindly hand on my shoulder.

      “Buck up, Maurice; come along to the dining-room and feed, and then tell me all about it.”

      “There’s nothing to tell,” I persisted. “But I guess you’re right, and hunger’s what’s wrong with me.”

      I managed to make a good meal – I was desperately hungry now I came to think of it – and Jim waited on me solicitously. He seemed somehow relieved that I manifested a keen appetite.

      “That’s better,” he said, as I declined cheese, and lighted a cigarette. “‘When in difficulties have a square meal before you tackle ’em; that’s my maxim, – original, and worth its weight in gold. I give it you for nothing. Now about this affair; it’s more like a melodrama than a tragedy. You know, or suspect, that Anne Pendennis is mixed up in it?”

      “I neither know nor suspect any such thing,” I said deliberately. I had recovered my self-possession, and the lie, I knew, sounded like truth, or would have done so to any one but Jim Cayley.

      “Then your manner just now was inexplicable,” he retorted quietly. “Now, just hear me out, Maurice; it’s no use trying to bluff me. You think I am prejudiced against this girl. Well, I’m not. I’ve always acknowledged that she’s handsome and fascinating to a degree, though, as I told you once before, she’s a coquette to her finger-tips. That’s one of her characteristics, that she can’t be held responsible for, any more than she can help the color of her hair, which is natural and not touched up, like Amy Vereker’s, for instance! Besides, Mary loves her; and that’s a sufficient proof, to me, that she is ‘O. K.’ in one way. You love her, too; but men are proverbially fools where a handsome woman is concerned.”

      “What are you driving at, Jim?” I asked. At any other time I would have resented his homily, as I had done before, but now I wanted to find out how much he knew.

      “A timely warning, my boy. I suspect, and you know, or I’m very much mistaken, that Anne Pendennis had some connection with this man who is murdered. She pretended last night that she had never met him before; but she had, – there was a secret understanding between them. I saw that, and so did you; and I saw, too, that her treatment of you was a mere ruse, though Heaven knows why she employed it! I can’t attempt to fathom her motive. I believe she loves you, as you love her; but that she’s not a free agent. She’s not like an ordinary English girl whose antecedents are known to every one about her. She, and her father, too, are involved in some mystery, some international political intrigues, I’m pretty sure, as this unfortunate Cassavetti was. I don’t say that she was responsible for the murder. I don’t believe she was, or that she had any personal hand in it – ”

      I had listened as if spellbound, but now I breathed more freely. Whatever his suspicions were, they did not include that she was actually present when Cassavetti was done to death.

      “But she was most certainly cognizant of it, and her departure this morning was nothing more or less than flight,” he continued. “And – I tell you this for her sake, as well as for your own, Maurice – your manner just now gave the whole game away to any one who has any knowledge or suspicion of the facts. Man alive, you profess to love Anne Pendennis; you do love her; I’ll concede that much. Well, do you want to see her hanged, or condemned to penal servitude for life?”

      CHAPTER IX

      NOT AT BERLIN

      “Hanged, or condemned to penal servitude for life.”

      There fell a dead silence after Jim Cayley uttered those ominous words. He waited for me to speak, but for a minute or more I was dumb. He had voiced the fear that had been on me more or less vaguely ever since I broke open the door and saw Cassavetti’s corpse; and that had taken definite shape when I heard Freeman’s assertion concerning “a red-haired woman.”

      And yet my whole soul revolted from the horrible, the appalling suspicion. I kept assuring myself passionately that she was, she must be, innocent; I would stake my life on it!

      Now, after that tense pause, I turned on Jim furiously.

      “What do you mean? Are you mad?” I demanded.

      “No, but I think you are,” Jim answered soberly. “I’m not going to quarrel with you, Maurice, or allow you to quarrel with me. As I told you before, I am only warning you, for your own sake, and for Anne’s. You know, or suspect at least – ”

      “I don’t!” I broke in hotly. “I neither know nor suspect that – that she – Jim Cayley, would you believe Mary to be a murderess, even if all the world declared her to be one? Wouldn’t you – ”

      “Stop!” he said sternly. “You don’t know what you’re saying, you young fool! My wife and Anne Pendennis are very different persons. Shut up, now! I say you’ve got to hear me! I have not accused Anne Pendennis of being a murderess. I don’t believe she is one. But I do believe that, if once suspicion is directed towards her, she would find it very difficult, if not impossible, to prove her innocence. You ought to know that, too, and yet you are doing your best, by your ridiculous behavior, to bring suspicion to bear on her.”

      “I!”

      “Yes, you! If you want to save her, pull yourself together, man; play your part for all it’s worth. It’s an easy part enough, if you’d only dismiss Anne Pendennis from your mind; forget that such a person exists. You’ve got to give evidence at this inquest. Well, give it straightforwardly, without worrying yourself about any side issues; and, for Heaven’s sake, get and keep your nerves under control, or – ”

      He broke off, and we both turned, as the door opened and a smart parlor-maid tripped into the room.

      “Beg pardon, sir. I didn’t know you were here,” she said with the demure grace characteristic of the well-trained English servant. “It’s nearly supper-time, and I came to see if there was anything else wanted. I laid the table early.”

      “All right, Marshall. I’ve been giving Mr. Wynn some supper, as he has to be off. You needn’t sound the gong for a few minutes.”

      “Very well, sir. If you’d ring when you’re ready, I’ll put the things straight.”

      She retreated as quietly as she had come, and I think we both felt that her entrance and exit relieved the tension of our interview.

      I rose and held out my hand.

      “Thanks, Jim. I can’t think how you know as much as you evidently do; but, anyhow, I’ll take your advice. I’ll be off, СКАЧАТЬ