Ramshackle House. Footner Hulbert

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СКАЧАТЬ “I misrecollect that. She jes hollered at me.”

      It would have been patent to a child that Aunt Maria was lying. The scene was intolerable to Pen’s pride.

      “Aunt Maria, tell the truth,” she said sharply.

      The poor old negress turned a face of complete dismay to her mistress. What was she to make of this? In her confusion she was unable to get anything else out.

      To Pen the chief detective said harshly: “Please be silent, Miss. You will have a chance to tell your story in a minute.”

      Pen’s eyes blazed. “You are not to suppose that you are entrapping me or my servant!” she said hotly. “I have no objection to your knowing that I went down to the beach last night and warned Mr. Counsell that he was liable to arrest!”

      It had the effect of a bombshell there in the room. For a second all the men stared at Pen open-mouthed. Then of one accord the reporters made a rush out into the hall where the telephone was. He who first laid hand on it was allowed to get his call in first. Pen was too angry now to be terrified by further publicity. Their precipitancy merely disgusted her. Was there no such thing as human dignity?

      Pendleton Broome’s swivel chair had come forward with a snap. He looked clownish. He was the only one really surprised by Pen’s disclosure. What astonished the others was that she should have admitted it. For a fleeting instant Pen felt sorry for the little man, but she had too much on her mind for the feeling to linger. The detective was not surprised, but he had counted on dragging out the admission, and it annoyed him excessively to have it flung in his face. He affected to be consulting with his subordinates while he recovered himself.

      “You had better question me,” Pen said. “Aunt Maria knows nothing more.”

      “Allow me to be the judge of that,” he said sarcastically.

      Pen shrugged. He went on questioning the negress, but she was reduced to a gibbering state. In the end he had to let her go. Aunt Maria hung in the hall, just around the corner of the door, listening with stretched ears. The reporters straggled back into the room.

      Pen and the detective faced each other. The man cleared his throat and settled his collar, gave attention to his finger nails, and glanced carelessly out of the window—all time-honored devices to break up the composure of one’s opponent. Pen merely looked at him. Suddenly he rasped at her:

      “So you assisted this murderer to escape?”

      “Don’t speak to me like that,” said Pen quietly, with heightened color. “He is not yet proved a murderer.” Meanwhile her inner voice was saying despairingly: “You should not antagonize him! You should not antagonize him!” But it was impossible for her to act otherwise towards this great, stupid bully.

      He smiled disagreeably; nevertheless he modified his tone. “What did you do it for?” he asked.

      “He had had dinner and supper with us,” said Pen. “I differed with my father as to its being our duty to inform against him.”

      “Where did he go from here?”

      “I don’t know.”

      “What! It was a bright moonlight night. Didn’t you have interest enough to watch which way he went after having warned him?”

      “He paddled straight out from the shore. I didn’t wait. The motor-boat was coming back.”

      “Why didn’t they see your tracks in the sand?”

      “I walked at the edge of the water.”

      “What did you want to deceive your father for?”

      “I beg your pardon,” said Pen with her chin up. “That is between my father and me.”

      The detective abandoned this line of questioning. “Didn’t Counsell tell you where he was going?” he demanded.

      “No.”

      “Didn’t you talk down on the beach?”

      “Certainly.”

      “What about?”

      “I had to tell him what was in the newspaper.”

      “Didn’t he know already?”

      “He did not.”

      The detective looked around at his subordinates with a leer, and they all laughed. Instead of disconcerting Pen it had the effect of stiffening her. She looked at one after another so steadily that their eyes suddenly found business elsewhere.

      The chief said suddenly with the air of one springing a disagreeable surprise: “Had you ever seen Counsell before yesterday?”

      “Never,” said Pen.

      “Are you sure of that?”

      Pen merely looked at him.

      “Answer my question, please!”

      “I have already answered it.”

      “Do you expect me to believe that you undertook to save a total stranger from the law?”

      “I have stated the facts.”

      The detective sprang to his feet and shook a violent forefinger at Pen—the old trick of the inquisitor. “You have seen this man before!”

      “Don’t shout at me,” said Pen coolly. “I am not a criminal.”

      “As to that we’ll see,” he said ominously. “Did you ever hear of accessory after the fact.”

      “Well, if I am a criminal,” said Pen, “I don’t have to testify against myself.”

      “Don’t argue with me if you please,” he said. “Just answer my questions.”

      “Answer me a question if you please,” said Pen clearly.

      He stared. He was not accustomed to having the tables turned like this.

      Before he could explode Pen asked her question: “You are from New York, aren’t you?”

      “What of it?”

      “What are your rights in Maryland?”

      His face turned ugly. “You’ll see!” He addressed one of his men. “Keesing, you have heard this young woman’s admissions. There’s a justice of the peace over on the Island. Go to him and make the necessary affidavit to secure a warrant for her arrest.”

      The man left the room. Pen believed this to be a bluff, and scornfully smiled. Her father was impressed though. He wilted down in his chair, and put out an imploring hand towards his daughter. He was incapable of speaking.

      “Do you want anything else of me?” Pen coolly asked her questioner.

      Seeing that his threat had failed of effect, the detective judged it prudent not to prolong СКАЧАТЬ