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| author | www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org> | 2026-03-02 08:00:02 -0800 |
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| committer | www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org> | 2026-03-02 08:00:02 -0800 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/78094-0.txt b/78094-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6668e17 --- /dev/null +++ b/78094-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7167 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78094 *** + + + + + [caption: + Stricken with terror, Margot watched a small, thin hand, + then a forearm reach from under her bed.] + + + + + THE + HAUNTING HAND + + By + W. ADOLPHE ROBERTS + + Frontispiece by + GEORGE W. GAGE + + + + + NEW YORK + THE MACAULAY COMPANY + + + + + [COPYRIGHT] + + _Copyright, 1926 + By The Macaulay Company_ + + + + + [DEDICATION] + + DEDICATED TO + FLORENCE M. OSBORNE. + + + + + CONTENTS + + I. Movie Men and Mannequins + II. The Grisly Hand and the Flame + III. A Creature Without a Body + IV. Mounting Mystery + V. Weird Suspicions + VI. The Midnight Prowler + VII. Spooks and the Press + VIII. The Claws of Jealousy + IX. Hidden Motives + X. A Witness from the Dead + XI. Whose Hand? + XII. Stella’s Story + XIII. Will-o’-the-Wisp + XIV. Love’s Alarm + XV. Stoner’s Share + XVI. A King’s Ransom in Radium + XVII. “Better Than Brotherly!” + + + + + THE HAUNTING HAND + + CHAPTER I. + MOVIE MEN AND MANNEQUINS + +Mid October, with its tang, and the blazoned glory of its skies and +sun and tawny trees! Margot Anstruther thanked a kind fate that she +could live these brilliant, exhilarating days out of doors. Had she +been confined to office or classroom, her restless spirit would have +carried her body with it, in reckless escape. Long Island--where the +Superfilm Company studio spread over the landscape--although not +precisely the Maine woods or sea, or the open spaces of her own +wide-flung West, at least spelled trees and grass and fresh air. + +Margot stood on the diminutive roof-garden of her New York home, +watching the moon rise over the house-tops. It was eight o’clock and +her guests would soon arrive. She hoped that Gene Valery would come +before the others. It was pleasant to be loved so ardently by Gene, +but she surmised that it would be pleasanter if she could love as +ardently in return. At any rate, his friendship was invaluable. He was +the only one with whom she could share her mental gymnastics, the +aspect of her mind which others would regard as rather too serious for +human nature’s daily food. + +She had Gene to thank for her tiny roof-garden. It was one of those +quaint affairs, a covering built over the yard, to be found in many an +old New York house. Gene had rigged up a trellis and had brought +potted palms and a South American hammock. For to-night he had hung +Japanese lanterns. Margot had already lighted them. That small, mock +garden took the curse, so to speak, off her lodging-house quarters, +which consisted of one large, high-ceilinged room, in which she slept, +ate--her breakfasts--and had her being. + +She cut short her transport over the moon, stepped across the +door-sill into the room, and cast critical eyes over her domain. A +brass bed in one far corner was concealed by a screen, which Gene had +made and she had decorated. The effect was rather good. She had +recently acquired a divan, with many cushions, large and soft and +gaily colored. Against one wall was a chest of drawers, a Chinese +scarf over its battered top, a brass jar at one end, and a pewter +candlestick with orange candle, at the other. The walls were a muddy +gray, but there was a Japanese print here and there, and bright +cretonne at the windows and on the wicker chairs. + +Flanking the old-fashioned fireplace were her bookcases, built and +painted by Gene. As catholic in her literary tastes as in her choice +of friends, Margot’s books presented a varied diet; fiction ranging +from Kipling to Anatole France, poetry from Dante to Millay. A +desk-table and an old console table--her own acquisitions--with carved +wood book-racks for a few modern novels, and a bit of brass or copper; +and two much worn but softly blended Oriental rugs thrown over the +antiquated carpet, almost hiding its ugliness. Margot had achieved +distinction, beauty and a subtle charm, in a room which previous +tenants of the old lodging-house must have accepted as irretrievably +barren and sordid. + +She glanced in her four-foot mirror and patted her hair. It looked +redder than usual in the light from the candles and from the +yellow-shaded electric lamp over by the table. She flicked a speck of +dust from the mirror-frame, gave a little twist to her soft, straight +hung dress of corn color silk, then glanced toward the lanterns +swinging in the evening breeze. Yes--it was all rather nice, but she +was especially grateful for the roof-garden. Of course, a chilly +October night could not be expected to lend exotic warmth to the +scene, but in the room, the logs would be burning. + +Six weeks since she had first met her expected guests: Frederick +Stoner, the director of the Superfilm Company, with his strange, pale +eyes; May Cheshire, the little blond girl who had been the first to +inspire Margot with a desire to get into pictures; Lulu Leinster, the +prize-beauty-contest winner from Texas, whose large brown eyes, +beautifully chiseled lips and exquisite skin and yellow hair would +have been assets in any profession. These three, and others, men and +girls of the company, whose admiring friendship Margot had won during +the past six weeks of work in the great studio of the Superfilm +Company. Gene Valery was an older friend. That he happened to be an +efficient young camera man with the same company was a pleasing +coincidence. + +Six weeks! A mere point in time, but they had been constructive weeks. +To her own satisfaction and to that of her director, it had been +proved that she had histrionic talent of a high order and that she +screened admirably. Of no less significance the fact that she knew +now, beyond all doubt, not only what she could do, but what she wanted +to do. The absurd thing was that she should originally have chosen +science as her profession! Mentally equipped she might be for +scientific work, but oh, how much more interesting it was to act! +Certainly more remunerative. That morning in June, when she had +applied for work and been taken on as an “extra” by the International, +had supplied not only a little extra cash for her summer vacation but +the fillip to her vague ambition to be a screen actress. And here she +was, at twenty-five, launched on her career. + +Her laboratory work would not be wasted; nothing excellent was ever +wasted, she knew, and she was grateful for any acquisitive experience +which she owed to her college course. But mental activities on the +side, she would regard as a hobby; for an actress she was by +temperament, and a good actress she proposed to be by intelligent use +of her powers. + +Funny, how Stoner had engaged her that day, and given her a real part +in the new picture, _A Toreador’s Love_! Funny how he had chosen her, +instead of the lovely Lulu, for apparently no good reason! When Lulu +proceeded to weep and look like a piece of broken Dresden china, he +had weakened to the extent of giving the latter a very small rôle, +but it was still a mystery to Margot why he had given _her_ the +important part for which she and Lulu--and many others--had applied, +in response to an advertisement. She had forgotten, or hadn’t had +time, to tell Gene about it. She must remember to tell him sometime. +It would amuse him and perhaps he’d be able to dispel the vague sense +of mystery aroused in her by Stoner, with his strange pale eyes, from +that first moment when she had given him her name and address. + +Margot smiled, recalling Gene’s absurd jealousy of Frederick Stoner. +Ridiculous to suppose that she could ever give the director a second +thought except in relation to her work. He wasn’t a bad sort, really, +but his rather brutish good looks repelled her. And he was a good +director, although, as everyone had told her, he belonged to the old +school of directors; very old-fashioned in his methods. There were +few, if any, of his kind left in the motion picture industry, for +which those working under him were devoutly thankful. Stoner’s notion +of discipline was to shout his orders and conduct himself generally as +if everything were melodrama. + +Gene was rather annoying with his jealous suspicions. She didn’t dare +tell him that she endured Stoner’s boring attentions as much for +Gene’s sake as for her own. Stoner had never liked Gene, and now he +made his dislike very evident. If she were to let it become obvious +that she preferred Gene’s friendship to Stoner’s, the director would +be quite capable of discharging him and queering him with other +directors and managers. Men often did contemptible things out of +jealousy. If she explained all this to Gene, ten to one he would +resign, just when his chances for promotion were so good. Gene was a +rank outsider. He had been taken on almost by accident and retained +because he was so amazingly clever with the camera. But all the +cleverness in the world wouldn’t help you if you were an outsider and +an influential director considered you undesirable. + +Speaking of jealousy! She smiled again, remembering that the only +member of the cast of _A Toreador’s Love_, who had declined her +invitation for to-night, was the star, Corinne Delamar. To be sure, +she was younger than Corinne--somewhat--and perhaps prettier, but +there was no reason for fearing that she had designs upon the +director. Margot had treated Corinne with consistent and amiable +courtesy, but had made no attempt to overcome her antagonism, by +catering to her up-stage exactions. In token of her good-will and to +celebrate her success in the Superfilm’s new picture, she had asked +them all to her informal home for a “party.” The word covered a +multitude of sins--of excess or boredom. Silly of Corinne not to come! +Silly of her to advertise her jealousy of Margot! There had been +gossip about it already, some of it a trifle malicious. + +At that point in her rapid reflections, Gene appeared, carrying a +bunch of yellow roses. He brought candy also, and cigarettes, and a +bottle or two under his arm. Gene was tall, clear-skinned and plain of +feature, except for his blue eyes. He was well knit, had brilliant +teeth and a smile which made one forget that his mouth was too wide +and his nose crooked--it had been broken in a football game. At times +his smile quickened his face to actual beauty. + +With bright eyes smiling in unison with her red, parted lips, Margot +watched him unwrap his packages. Then he stood looking at her, longing +to take her in his arms, and daring only to stare at her adoringly. + +“You _are_ a darling, Gene!” Her voice cooed at him, and she took a +step nearer, smiling at him. + +Well, that wasn’t so bad in the way of a greeting, his expansive smile +told her. + +“And _you_ are a darling--an exquisite darling!” + +She went a little nearer to him. + +“If you won’t muss me, and won’t get too rapturous, I’ll let you kiss +me--_once_--just to give you a good start for the evening.” + +“Sweetheart!” Impetuously he tried to put an arm around her, then, +gingerly, as she drew away with a laugh of warning, he put his hands +on her shoulders and bending down, kissed her lips. It was a kiss +pregnant with emotion but short-lived, as she freed herself, with +another gay laugh. + +“Look, Gene! You haven’t even noticed my new divan and my lovely +cushions.” + +He glanced at the divan without interest, turned his gaze back to +Margot, and seeing her mouth droop in disappointment, he made an +effort to smile approval. + +“Bully, darling! It adds fifty per cent to this room.” His eyes roved +about. “Color scheme’s fine!” His wandering glance reached the corner +where the screen did not entirely conceal the large brass bed. “Why on +earth don’t you get rid of that incubus?” + +Margot’s smile clouded. “Now, you don’t imagine I keep it for sheer +love of the beastly thing? I told Mrs. Bellew that I was going to buy +a divan, and she promised to remove that monster over there. But when +the divan arrived the other day, she told me I’d have to keep the bed +till she could have one of her rooms done over. I can’t throw the darn +thing out the window. It makes me _so_ mad!” + +“Sorry I mentioned it, dearest. Don’t bother about it. That screen +hides it and the room’s so huge you can forget that corner.” + +“Anyway,” she smiled cheerfully, “I’ve managed to cover her hideous +old Wilton, except in spots, especially that torn place near the bed. +Dad sent the Orientals from home. Worn a bit, but the coloring’s +lovely. She wouldn’t take up her old carpet. Says the paint’s off the +floor and the boards cracked and rough. I don’t believe she’s had that +carpet up for years.” + +“By the way,” said Gene irrelevantly, “Stoner coming to-night?” + +“Why, of course he is!” + +“Precisely--_why_--‘of course’?” + +“How silly of you, Gene! I can’t snub Stoner, and it would have been +worse than a snub not to ask him to-night. Why, _he_ gave me the job +I’m celebrating! How _could_ I leave him out?” + +“Suppose you’re right.” Gene’s agreement was sulky. “But I don’t like +Stoner and I hate to see him hanging around you.” + +She went up to him and gave him a light, swift kiss on the end of his +chin, then ran back before he could seize her. + +“Be a good sport, Gene, dear. A man of Stoner’s type couldn’t possibly +hurt me in anyway, for I’d never want him as a friend, let alone as a +lover. But it’s policy to be decent to him, and I’m not a fool.” + +“All the same I hate to see his familiar manner with you. All the +logic in the universe isn’t going to change that.” + +“And I can’t help _that_! If you _will_ be jealous of an inferior, +then you just prove an inferiority complex.” Her smile sweetened the +words, then she added with a laugh: “The same kind of complex that +made Corinne Delamar decline my invitation for to-night.” + +Before Gene could reply, the door-bell rang. To Margot’s relief, the +first arrivals were May Cheshire and Lulu Leinster, with several other +girls and men from _A Toreador’s Love_. She was glad that Stoner had +not come in time to make an embarrassing trio with Gene and herself. + +Amid the chatter and laughter and admiring exclamations regarding +Margot’s room and the tiny roof-garden, the bell rang again. This time +it would be Stoner, she knew. She ran to the door to admit him, +standing with her back to the room. + +Stoner was tall and heavily built, with thick eyebrows that gave him a +fierce expression when he frowned. He was handsome, of a crude, +slightly brutal type. He possessed, at least, that illusive quality, +personality. He smiled down at Margot and extended a large, +well-groomed hand. + +Her cordial but impersonal greeting of: “Why, hello, Mr. Stoner! +Awfully glad to see you!” sounded innocent enough, which was for +Gene’s benefit, but only Stoner saw the roguish, upturned corners of +her mouth, and the smile of challenge in her lovely eyes. After all, +one must play a game with finesse. If she didn’t coquette a _little_ +with Stoner, just to keep the ball rolling, either she’d antagonize +him, or run the risk of bringing on a crisis by goading him to a less +oblique attack. + +Before she turned and sauntered with him across the room, the color +had deepened in her cheeks. Whenever Stoner looked at her with his +critical, predatory eyes, Margot always grew uncomfortably conscious +of her physical assets: of the long, gently curved lines of her body; +of the clearness of her white skin, with its pink shadings; of the +golden auburn of her bobbed hair; of her nose, straight, except for a +slight uptilt at the end, which harmonized with the way her lips +deepened and lifted at the corners of her mobile mouth. She had no +unwarranted conceit, but the trained appraisal of Stoner’s glance had +brought to her to-night, as on previous occasions, the conviction that +she was more beautiful than she had supposed. + +An hour later, Margot, sitting Turk-fashion on her divan, and flashing +a smile over the rim of her cocktail glass at the girls and men +standing or lolling about the room, answered their toast to her +success, with one of her own. + +“If Shakespeare were alive to-day, he’d be writing scenarios, and +instead of saying: ‘The play’s the thing!’ he’d say: ‘The movies are +the _only_ thing!’ Drink to the drama of the screen! May it live long +and prosper, and have lots of--of offspring!” + +“Taking liberties with the famous old toast of Rip Van Winkle. Very +clever of you, Margot, I’ll tell the world!” It was Stoner speaking. + +Surprising, Margot thought, that Stoner, with all his crudities, +should have recognized her paraphrasing of the toast of Rip Van +Winkle. She was sure that no one else but Gene in that room had +education enough for that. She studied Stoner through lowered eyes. He +was standing by the table, compounding bright-colored cocktails with +much orange juice and not much gin. The bottles were emptying rather +early in the evening. + +Stoner, liking to be in evidence wherever there were pretty women +about, had insisted upon presiding over the mixing of drinks. He swung +the big shaker with a loud tinkling of ice, and boisterous jests +thrown carelessly to one or another. He smiled, it seemed to Gene’s +watchful and jealous eyes, a little possessively at Margot, as he +said, with a laugh: + +“I’ll hand it to you, Margot, for knowing how to maneuver the drinks +so that we’ll stay sober and yet enjoy ourselves. Most women, when +they entertain, can’t strike that happy medium. They’re either stingy +with the booze, or they turn on the hose and send you home wall-eyed. +You’re the perfect little entertainer, I’ll tell the world.” + +“And why on earth, Margot, did you think you had to apologize for this +room of yours?” Lulu glanced about with wondering admiration. “I call +it a swell room, and fine for a party!” + +Margot smiled, and her gray eyes twinkled. + +“It’s really just a bedroom, Lulu, as I warned you. I can’t pretend +it’s anything else, while that monstrous brass bed stands over in that +corner.” + +“Well, you’ve got it screened, haven’t you?” Lulu argued. + +“That’s a weak camouflage. And when I go to bed, of course I remove +the screen, and then, when I look around the room, I feel as if I were +in a regular movie bedroom. They’re always so funny, you know. Aren’t +they, Mr. Stoner?” + +For a second his expression showed that he thought she might be making +fun of him. + +“We have to rig up those fancy bedrooms, to please the fans who’ve +never seen a really swell bedroom in their lives. They think they’re +getting the real dope when we show them beds all covered with lace and +satin and the Lord knows what not.” + +“Beds don’t scare _me_,” laughed May Cheshire, shaking her little +blond, bobbed head. “Ain’t they among our best little props? Ain’t we +jumpin’ in and out of ’em in half the scenes?” + +Margot laughed with the others. Hers was too human a sense of humor to +resent the obviousness of such an exhibition of another girl’s wit. It +was spontaneous at least. + +“As to beds,” Stoner evidently thought the subject not yet exhausted; +“you aren’t the only young actress, Margot, who’s living in one room. +Lots of them in the ‘Roaring Forties.’ I’ve seen rooms that weren’t a +patch on this one for looks and comfort, and I’ve sat on more beds +than I could count, when there weren’t enough chairs to go round.” + +“At least you won’t be put to that trouble in my room.” + +Gene exulted at the slight coolness in her tone. Damn cheeky Stoner, +with his remarks about sitting on beds. Stoner gave her a sharp look, +then stared across the room to where the brass bed peeked around a +corner of the screen. + +“Wouldn’t be any trouble, I assure you.” What was it, in his voice? +Irony, ridicule, effrontery or just plain nerve? + +For the first time in weeks, Margot had a vivid memory of the look in +Stoner’s eyes when she had first given him her address, and the +following day, when he first suggested calling on her. The impression +of something vaguely sinister, had faded with more familiar knowledge +of the man, and his amiable crudities of mind and manner. + +“Guess you’ll soon be movin’ up town into some big swell flat on +Riverside Drive. You’ll be a star I bet, in the next picture they +shoot.” There was faint envy in Lulu’s big blue eyes. + +“If I move up town,” said Margot, with a laugh, “it certainly won’t be +to Riverside Drive. Too many murders of young actresses and dancers in +that neighborhood. And I’m in no hurry to move away from here. This +house has atmosphere, hasn’t it, Gene?” She turned her head to smile +directly into Gene’s watchful eyes. “It was built in the sixties, you +know, Mr. Stoner.” Her glance shifted to the director, who was sitting +on the arm of an old chair, and imperiling its usefulness. +“Picturesque old moldings, high ceilings and all that sort of thing. +Don’t you like these brownstone relics, Mr. Stoner?” + +“Gene, there, knows more about them than I do. He has to shoot them +every now and then. But the inside dope on architecture and periods is +the bluff of the art director. ‘Ain’t it the truth,’ Valery?” + +Gene disdained to attempt the sort of repartee which Stoner could have +understood. He got up, and poured himself a drink, and drank it +unsociably, except for a glance over his glass at Margot. She decided +hastily to make conversation of a kind that would entertain the crowd, +and avoid personalities, and danger of sword crossing between Gene and +Stoner. She would strike the note of mystery. That would intrigue them +all, at a minimum of effort. + +“Listen, people,” she began, her mouth widening in a smile which +included everyone. “The best thing about this house is that it makes +good on its appearance. Mysterious lodgers have lived here. Strange +things have happened here.” + +In her roving glance from one guest to the other, her eyes met +Stoner’s. Their pale blue looked dark in the shaded lighting of the +room. He sat quite still, staring intently at her. Certainly the man +had strange eyes. One moment colorless and without expression, even +when his mouth suggested significant things when he smiled or spoke to +her; the next moment taking on depth and color and a vague suggestion +of mystery. She was conscious of a slight effort in withdrawing her +glance from his arresting gaze. + +Lulu dragged her chair closer, and May sprang to the divan, and +cuddled close to Margot. + +“Do go on!” May’s voice shrilled excitedly. “_What_ strange things +have happened here?” + +“I only heard about it yesterday.” Margot determined to keep her +glance carefully away from Stoner’s direction. He made her nervous for +some reason. “I was talking to the landlady--trying to get her to take +away her old brass bed. She told me that a girl who was living in this +very room, disappeared in the funniest way, about three months ago. +She didn’t just walk out, bag and baggage. She disappeared--literally. +Left all her belongings, even her comb and tooth brush. _And_--she’s +never come back!” + +“That’s interesting!” Stoner’s comment came as he walked to the table +and poured a drink. His back was turned to Margot. “What sort of a +girl was she?” He stood now facing the others, and looking at Margot. +He frowned as if mentally groping with an abstract problem. “Anybody +have a drink?” he added genially. + +Cries from the girls, begging for silence, and telling the men to pour +drinks, if they must, without talking about it or interrupting +Margot’s story; then silence and absorbed attention as Margot +continued: + +“The girl’s name was Stella Ball. She was supposed to be working at +Macy’s, half time, in the afternoons. But Mrs. Bellew communicated +with the manager at Macy’s, after the girl left here, and they’d never +even heard of her!” + +Stoner leisurely blew rings of smoke from his cigarette, and said +lazily: + +“She may have been run over in the street. Obscure people often +disappear that way. Sudden accident, and no identification possible. +No papers on them, and nobody claims them at the morgue. Nothing so +mysterious about that.” + +“Wait till you hear the rest of it!” Margot’s eager glance avoided the +chair where Stoner was lounging. “The very same day that the girl left +here, an elderly man named Murchison, who had a garret room on the top +floor, also disappeared, with equal finality.” + +“A _really_ old man?” Lulu’s instinct for romance jumped to the +obvious conclusion. + +“No, dear, just middle-aged. He was about fifty-five. Agile and wiry, +Mrs. Bellew says. Young in strength, but very unprepossessing. He was +round-shouldered, and had a thin, ugly, hatchet sort of face. No girl +could have looked twice at him. And in the evenings he stuck in his +rooms like a hermit, and he seemed to hate women.” + +“Did he have a job anywhere?” someone asked. + +“Nobody knows. He never gave any information about himself. Of course +landladies like Mrs. Bellew would draw blood out of a stone, in the +way of gossip, but, apparently, she never found out anything about +that particular lodger. She didn’t care, so long as he gave no trouble +and paid his rent regularly.” + +“Perhaps the old bird had money, and the girl, Stella, may have fallen +for that.” Lulu’s sense of romance was not to be crushed. + +“Nonsense, Lulu. He wasn’t a miser, with bags of gold in his trunk. He +went out every day, so presumably he worked somewhere, but, judging by +the way he lived, he certainly earned very little.” + +“Call it a case of hypnotism, and be done with it!” Stoner’s +suggestion came flippantly. + +Margot turned her head quickly, and again met Stoner’s eyes, staring +at her through the shadows of the room, and the smoke from his +cigarette. + +“I thought of that. But the man’s only motive in hypnotizing the girl +would have been an immoral one, which wouldn’t have required his +taking her out of the house. No one here bothers about his neighbors. +You could literally get away with murder, and not a soul be the +wiser.” + +“Gosh! Catch _me_ living in a spooky place like this!” May glanced +over her shoulder, at the darker corner of the room where the brass +bed hid its plebeian head. + +“Speaking of mysteries!” Margot glanced with surprise at Gene, whose +voice had broken the momentary silence in the room.--“Any of you +happen to read about the disappearance from the Fellowe Institute, of +a fraction of a gram of radium, a few months ago?” + +“Yes, I read about it,” said Margot eagerly. “They haven’t the +faintest idea who took it, but of course it was stolen. Any of you +know anything about radium?” She glanced from one to another. + +“Not a damn thing. I’ll speak for the crowd.” It was Stoner’s voice, +bland, a little ironical. “We motion picture people, Margot, aren’t +wise to all that scientific stuff. Ain’t it the truth?” He laughed, +throwing his glance around the room. + +“Aren’t you even interested when you read of such things in the +papers, Mr. Stoner?” Margot regarded him with curious eyes. He was +such a strange contradiction, with his unexpected knowledge along some +lines, and his equally surprising lack of it along others. + +“Can’t say I am. As a matter of fact, I don’t have much time for +reading, except of course movie fan stuff, and the sports columns, and +local politics and all the bunk they write and call dramatic +criticism.” + +“But a thing like the disappearance of that radium is most interesting +news. Even a tiny bit of radium is worth a lot of money, and they’ve +had detectives on the case without getting a glimmer of light or a +single clue.” + +“The odd part of it is,” went on Gene, “that no one but an employee +could have access to their stock of radium, and the mystery lies in +the difficulty entailed in concealing it and getting out of the +building with it. It seems that all persons engaged in work at the +Institute are subject to search before they leave the building.” + +Margot could see by their faces that, so far as the others were +concerned, the subject of radium was exhausted. But her own mystery +narrative still held interest, she felt sure. + +“Well, to get back to the girl Stella, and old Murchison--” began +Margot. + +“Why get back to them?” Stoner drawled the words, and rolled his eyes +in comic supplication. “Much better turn on the jazz and let me shake +another round of Bronxes.” + +“Righto!” laughed Margot, getting up and going toward the victrola. +Without looking at Stoner she added: + +“Evidently, Mr. Stoner, you haven’t got the detective sort of mind.” + +“Have you?” + +Through the high-pitched chatter of the girls, and the deeper cadence +of the men’s voices, Margot heard the brief, low-toned question. She +turned around, facing Stoner. + +“Yes, I have. Ever since I’ve been old enough to read, I’ve had a +slant for mystery and detective stories. I adore unraveling +mysteries.” + +“Is that so?” Stoner’s drawl expressed tolerant amusement. The slight +scorn so often shown by rather ignorant men for intelligent women. + +Margot put on a record, wound the victrola, then walked slowly to +where Stoner stood. She let him light a cigarette for her as she said, +smilingly: + +“Ever read ‘The House and the Brain,’ by Bulwer-Lytton? Fascinating +and gruesome. In fact quite blood-curdling.” + +“Any more so than Monsieur Dupin?” + +“Oh, mercy, yes.” She saw Gene approaching, and included him in the +conversation. “Who’s _your_ favorite, Gene, in detective fiction?” + +“Gaboriau,” said Gene briefly, “and Maurice le Blanc.” + +“They would be,” laughed Margot. “You’re of French descent, and I +suppose you read them in the original. Well, as for me, I vote for +Conan Doyle’s immortal Sherlock! Although I’ll admit that Le Blanc’s +‘Memoirs of Arsene Lupin’ are thrilling and clever.” + +“You and Valery are some pair of highbrows to be in the motion picture +industry.” Stoner sounded sarcastic, and Gene frowned darkly, but +Margot answered gaily: + +“I’ve never heard detective fiction called high-brow before. Except, +of course, that I take it more seriously than most readers do, Mr. +Stoner. You see, I was a medical student and specialized in chemistry +before you gave me the chance of my young life to become an actress. +I’ve had lots of fun analyzing the methods of most of the great +fiction detectives. How’s that?” Her upturned face challenged him with +a bright smile. + +“Hot stuff for your press agent, when I’m directing you as a star, +some day.” + +Gene turned abruptly on his heel. Margot stood, her eyes held by +Stoner’s veiled scrutiny. For veiled it was; that expressed it +exactly. For a few seconds his gaze held hers, then--again--what was +it--that sudden dilating of the pupil; the queer overtone as of a +yellowish shadow darkening the pale blue of the iris; a shimmer in the +eyeball, like dust specks seen in a sunbeam.… + +Margot lowered her head, and walked slowly to the door leading to the +roof garden. Strange eyes! A little shiver shook her bare shoulders. +The night was sultry. The room was heavy with smoke and the warm +essence from many human bodies. + + + + + CHAPTER II. + THE GRISLY HAND AND THE FLAME + +As Margot danced, with one man and then another, a rapt, detached, +impersonal joy, shone in her face. Gone, between her and her guests, +the feeling of inequality that her agile and probing mind, had +inspired for a short interval. Gone the sense in her of repugnance for +Stoner, even when she danced in his arms. Gone the memory of his +strange and disturbing eyes. Caught up in the rhythm of jazz, what +mattered anything but motion--to these children of the Twentieth +Century--the poetry of motion, the only poetry most of them would ever +give a brass farthing for. + +What if the music were secondhand? Syncopation and the phonograph +record had come into being at the same time, and had swept away with +a single victorious gesture the sentiment of the waltz, and the +coöperation of eager fingers flying over a white keyboard. Here were +new measures, mechanical, but satisfying and inspiring to youngsters +of the Jazz Age. + +But it was after midnight, and high time to respect the rule that all +noise cease at twelve o’clock. Even in free-and-easy old houses such +as this one, there was a limit. Sandwiches and salad and coffee, +appeared mysteriously from a closet, where Margot concealed an +electric plate. One more round of drinks, mutual toasts and eager +congratulations to Margot for the success of her party, then the girls +began to fumble with their wraps. + +At the door, Stoner held out his hand for a second clasp. He had +already shaken her hand in good-night. He had managed to be the last +to leave the room. Even Gene had followed the others down the stairs, +although he had maneuvered a whispered entreaty into her ear, to +permit him to return in a few minutes, and she had yielded to the +unhappiness in his eyes. + +Stoner, holding her hand, looked down at her with a slow smile parting +his thick lips. + +“Grand success, your little party--Margot.” She smiled, without +attempting to withdraw her hand. + +“Awfully glad you enjoyed it. Next time I promise to have the +cocktails strong enough to suit you, Mr. Stoner.” + +“They were strong enough. Too strong, maybe, for those other little +girls. You’d already stirred them up thoroughly with your story of +mystery and murder.” + +Her eyes widened. “My story didn’t include a murder.” + +“Well, it was hinted at--left to the imagination.” + +“Entirely so.” + +“Well, see here, little girl. Take my advice and cut out all that +detective stuff. It fills your mind with truck and it’s bad for your +work. Take it from me, it is!” + +“I’ll write a mystery story myself, and perhaps you’ll let me star in +it. How about that, Mr. Director?” She laughed and tried to withdraw +her hand. + +“Nothing doing. Don’t like mystery pictures. Well, good-by and don’t +get nervous sleeping all alone in that big bed over there.” + +For a second, Margot felt angry resentment at what, on the lips of +such a man as Stoner, might so easily contain an ugly meaning--a raw +suggestion. The next second, meeting his eyes, so mysteriously +contradictory to the insidious sensuality of his mouth, she knew that +he had meant nothing insulting by his reference to her sleeping alone +in the large bed. Perhaps he had no meaning at all, back of his words +or his eyes, but there it was again, unsuspected by him, that strange, +disturbing filming of the pale blue iris, and the dilation of the +pupil. What in Heaven’s name did it mean! + +As Margot stood perfectly still, with the handle of the closed door in +her hand, listening to the sound of Stoner’s feet descending the +uncarpeted stairs, the vague wonder and unrest she had felt before, +became a concrete sensation of something very much like fear, yet fear +of what! Not Stoner himself. That would be too absurd! Besides, the +only thing a woman would have to be on her guard against with Stoner, +concerned matters wherein lay no mystery whatever. There was never any +mystery for a woman, attending the manifest gloating desire of a man. +Certainly she could handle Stoner. That wasn’t it. Well, what was it? +She felt half tempted to talk it over with Gene. But hearing his step +outside the door, she decided suddenly that she would not, could not, +discuss Stoner with Gene. + +Gene threw hat and coat on a chair in the manner of one who is anxious +to dispose of superfluous incumbrance, and be strong for his swim +against the current. He stood with his back to the wall, near the +door, ignoring Margot’s gesture toward a chair. Reading determination +in his grave, young face, Margot lighted a cigarette, just to have +something to finger, and walked toward him, In comic imitation of +Carmen, arms akimbo, swaying of the torso, head tilted back, and a +tantalizing smile on her lips. It was too late for melodrama, or even +mild dramatics. She must treat Gene with friendly levity, or she’d +have a heavy discussion to deal with. + +“Why so black in your looks, milord? You frighten me with your +beetling brows and acid smile?” + +“Smile! I’m far from smiling, Margot.” + +She shrugged her shoulders. Gene in this mood had no more sense of +humor than a clam. + +“Don’t be so darn literal, my dear boy. Of course you’re not smiling. +What I want to know is, why aren’t you?” + +“Because I’m too miserable, that’s why, if you want to know.” + +“Now see here, Gene. In plain language, what’s eating you? Haven’t I +been sweet to you to-night? I danced with you more than with any other +man, and I talked with you a lot.” + +“It’s that man Stoner. I’m not exactly blind.” + +“What is there not to be blind to?” + +“He’s a loud-mouthed motion picture man of the old school. Out of your +class a thousand miles. But he’s your director, and he’s got the gall +to have fallen in love with you, and makes no bones about letting us +all know it.” + +“Rot! Tommy Rot! I suppose he admires me--in a way--but I’ve a hunch +that his interest in me isn’t really as _personal_ as it seems to be.” + +Gene frowned at her. “Now what do you mean by that cryptic remark?” + +Margot did not answer at once, then she said slowly: + +“I don’t know myself exactly what I mean. But the main thing for you, +Gene, to get into that otherwise intelligent head of yours is, that +even if Stoner _is_ in love with me, I’m not and never could be, in +love with _him_.” + +Gene looked neither convinced nor comforted. + +“Men like Stoner aren’t easily discouraged. I’ve seen him go after +women before. It’s just possible you might succumb to his cave-man +technique in the end.” + +“‘Technique’!” Margot laughed. “That’s funny. He hasn’t got any, +that’s one reason why I’ve got no use for him. He’s awfully crude. +Never lets me forget that he gave me my job. And speaking of +technique, old dear, you’d better improve your own. It’s terribly +flattering, of course, to have a man jealous of you, but it’s almost +insulting to think that I could care for Stoner.” + +Gene studied her morosely for a moment, then he turned away and walked +the length of the room. Margot’s eyes, watching him, softened and she +said gently: + +“I forgive you, Gene.” + +Quickly he turned on his heel and approached her, his hands +outstretched. He seized hers and held them close. + +“Jealousy is always stupid, dear, but when a man’s as much in love as +I am, things get out of focus. I’m obsessed by a very human male +desire to take care of you, Margot. To protect you against the world +in general and men like Stoner in particular.” + +Margot smiled into his eager face. + +“But, my dear. I can look after myself at present, as well as you +could look after me.” + +He frowned and dropped her hands. + +“I wasn’t speaking in terms of dollars and cents. I meant a different +sort of protection, the kind marriage to a decent man, gives a girl. +And as to the rest of it: With fair luck I’ll be a director before +long.” + +Margot put her hand on his arm and gave it a little squeeze. + +“That was crude of me, Gene. Forgive me. I really meant that we’re +both too young and unsettled to marry. I want to make good first, +quite on my own. If I don’t make the grade--a star, you know--and if I +grow old and ugly,” the very thought of it made her laugh gaily, “why +_then_ I really might need you, Gene, but by that time, being a mere +man, of course you wouldn’t _want_ me.” + +He drew her nearer to him and his eyes darkened with emotion. + +“I’d always want you, darling, and you could never be old or ugly to +me.” + +“Where oh where have I heard those words before! Something strangely +familiar about them.” She laughed, then sobered quickly as Gene drew +back, hurt by her levity. + +“I’m only teasing, dear, but you must admit, if you’ve got a sense of +humor, that it _is_ awfully funny how every man when he’s in love, +always tells the woman that she could never be old or ugly to _him_.” + +“You can’t imagine that an occasional man might mean it when he says +it?” Gene spoke a little coldly. + +“Why, my dear, they _all_ mean it! That’s the funniest part of it.” + +Gene reached for his hat and coat. + +“You seem determined to squelch any sentiment between us to-night.” + +“To-night--yes. It’s fearfully late, Gene, dear, and you must go, +really.” + +He turned toward the door without a word, nor any attempt to caress +her. A cynical man of the world could not have chosen a surer way of +putting the initiative into the woman’s hands. Margot moved a little +nearer to him, then she said: + +“You may kiss me good-night, Gene.” + +Gene was too much in love to play the game dexterously. He dropped hat +and coat and took her eagerly into his arms. For a short moment she +relaxed in his embrace and even kissed him with instinctive response +to his passion. Then, as she turned her head away from his encroaching +kisses, a sudden thought stilled his passion. He looked at her with +troubled eyes. + +“Darling, I can’t bear to think of you living alone here, after what +you told us about this house. You’re taking chances and it worries me +horribly.” + +“Don’t be absurd, Gene. And remember, I have my own telephone, right +by my bed. I’m indebted for that to the women who occupied this room +after Stella Ball left. It’s expensive but convenient.” + +“I’m glad it’s by your bed. Easy to get at, if you wanted to call the +police.” + +“‘Police’!” she echoed with a laugh. “You’re determined to stage a +melodrama. If it got to the point of having to call the police I guess +I’d be beyond help.” + +“Seriously, Margot, I’m anxious. Let me give you a ring in the next +half hour. I shan’t sleep unless I hear your voice before you drop off +yourself.” + +“Idiot!” She gave him a playful shove in the direction of the door. +“Don’t you dare call me this time of night--morning, really. I’ll be +in bed before you’ve turned the corner, and sound asleep before you’ve +used your latchkey.” + +An hour later, Margot, with a weary sigh disposed of the last plate +and spoon, and emptied the ashes out of the last overflowing ash tray. +She undressed and tip-toed to the bathroom for a shower. It would be a +cold one at that hour, and it would make her wakeful, but she felt +stuffy and cigarette smoke seemed to have penetrated right through her +clothes. A few strokes of the brush over her thick bobbed hair, then +she gave another sigh, of comfort this time, as she propped up her +pillows, took a book from the night table and lighted a cigarette. She +was so wide awake she knew that she would have to read herself into a +relaxed state of mind. She kept a dull novel on hand to act as a +sleeping potion, for often she found it difficult to quiet her active +mind. + +The book wobbled in her hand, and her eyelids drooped. But she wasn’t +quite sleepy enough yet, so she clutched the book a little tighter. +The cigarette trembled between her lips and almost fell. She put it on +the ash tray, squeezing the lighted end. Then--droop, droop of the +eyelids, and she let the book fall to the coverlet. But the electric +light! Oh, dear! She must reach out and snap the thing off. Perhaps +the very slight muscular exertion of moving her arm, and pulling the +chain, stirred the nerves at the base of her brain. Darkness, and +stillness, yet that delightful drowsiness was gone. + +A faint ray of light came through the window opening on the +roof-garden. It was from a distant street lamp. It left the shadows on +either side of it the more dense. Perhaps another puff at her +cigarette would be enough to soothe her wakefulness. She reached out +and took it from the tray, picked up a match and lighted what was left +of her cigarette. + +A puff as she held the match to it then, more asleep than awake, +Margot stretched her arm over the side of the bed, and dropped the +still burning match to the floor. The next second and she was once +more alert. A lighted paper match on a thin, worn old rug! She had +seen the evil little things burn holes in tables, and the edges of +mantels, and she had ruined the handle of a good knife with the +careless dropping of a lighted match. Vaguely these things went +through her mind as she leaned over the side of the bed and looked for +the match. + +Her outstretched hand was poised above the coverlet. She had located +the match and had put out her arm to reach down for it. Then--without +sound, almost it seemed to her petrified gaze, without movement--a +small, thin hand, then a forearm, reached out from under her bed. + +Stricken with terror, her heart first missing a beat, then seeming to +be in her throat, strangling her, Margot watched the hand reach to the +match and tap it softly with thin fingers, crushing the burning end. +Then--back, without sound, back whence it had come, disappearing under +the bed. + +Margot lay rigid, eyes staring into the darkness, lips parted and +stiff. The first paralysis of horror at the incredible thing she had +seen, quickened to a definite and agonized fear--a personal and +feminine fear. + +Someone--a man of course--was under the bed. He must have been there +all the evening. He had tapped the lighted match because it might have +set fire to the rug, and led to his discovery. He didn’t think she had +seen him reach out for the flame. He’d wait till he was sure she was +asleep, then he’d come creeping out--creeping--creeping---- + +Burglary! Ridiculous! Margot’s clever brain could function, in spite +of her fear. Surely no New York burglar would hide in a house for +hours where all the rooms were occupied! He would break in when all +was still and safe. Besides, what had she, or anyone living in such a +house, that a burglar would want? It was not theft. She felt sure of +that. A maniac--an escaped maniac, a paranoiac, who had picked her out +as the one on whom to avenge an imagined grievance. As a medical +student she had come to know the possibilities where paranoiacs were +concerned. + +Murder! That’s what it was. Murder! God in Heaven, how long would the +creature wait? She dared not scream, and who would hear her if she +did? Walls and doors in that old house were so thick as to be almost +sound-proof. She’d go mad if she had to endure this suspense much +longer! If she were to break down and become hysterical, that would be +the end, right there! Whatever she did, she _must_ keep a cool head! + +A violent wrench of nerves and muscles and will, then she raised a +hand that was icy cold and stiff, and switched on the light on the +night table. + + + + + CHAPTER III. + A CREATURE WITHOUT A BODY + +The intense relief of sudden light in a dark room, when one has felt +the grip of deadly fear, brought from Margot a long drawn breath that +her quick wits changed to a yawn--an audible convincing yawn, +convincing to whatever, whoever, waited with the stillness of death, +under her bed. + +Determined not to lose self-control, rapid and coherent thought +brought a sequence of small acts calculated to ward off immediate +danger and arrest suspicion in the maniacal creature whose hand and +arm she had seen. By this time Margot was convinced that she had to +deal with a maniac of some description. + +She followed up her yawn with a restless twist of her body on the +mattress, a bang to her pillows, and finally a low grunt of physical +discomfort which ended in a self-addressed murmur of: + +“Gosh! Wish I could get to sleep!” + +Her next move was to seize her book and turn the pages noisily. Would +it be possible, she wondered, to keep on turning pages until +dawn,--possible for her to retain her self-control as the suspense +grew more and more unbearable, and would it be possible so far as the +patience of her lurking enemy was concerned. Would It--she thought of +the living thing as It--wait indefinitely for its proposed attack? +Surely not. Then this was merely a respite. It might wait for hours +for the light to be switched off again, but It would not wait for +daybreak and the consequent danger of discovery. + +She measured the distance to the door leading into the hall. It wasn’t +so far, and if she didn’t get muscle-bound with fear, she could make +it with one long spring. But even so, before she could open the door, +there would be another spring--from the Other One under the bed, and +It would catch her before she could turn the handle. And if not a +spring, then a shot at her, for of course the creature must be armed. +No! Even if she were to get out of bed in a leisurely, unsuspicious +fashion, for whatever apparent purpose, she would be attacked as +surely and swiftly as if she were to scream for help. + +Horrible, this waiting and thinking and planning! Horrible this unseen +menace--man or woman, sane or insane, violent or craven! There was a +limit to what even her healthy nerves could endure without snapping. + +A sudden memory of Gene begging to let him call her up. If only she +had told him he might do so. Ridiculous! He would have rung her up an +hour ago at least, and by now he was probably sound asleep. He had +supposed that she was going immediately to bed, and would not have +dared to risk disturbing her after this long interval, even if she had +consented to let him call her. + +A sudden alternative, a desperate expedient occurred to her with a +quickening of her pulse. Why couldn’t she call Gene! She would be +taking a fearful chance, for the mere calling of Central might be the +signal for an attack. To be sure, when calling for the police one had +merely to say the one word to the operator, therefore an ordinary +number would sound innocent enough. But how could she be sure that any +such reasoning would occur to the mind of a maniac? The mere sound of +her voice might be enough to bring that creeping, ghostly arm from +under the bed, and the body to which the arm belonged. But she _must_ +do something! She’d call Central and get Gene’s number. After +that--God knew what! + +Her hand trembling so that she very nearly dropped the instrument, she +lifted the telephone from the table to the bed. She put the receiver +to her ear and after the usual interval at such an hour, when night +operators often seem to be sound asleep, she heard Central’s weak and +far away reply. Nothing stirred in that room of horror except her +trembling body and her anguished breathing. So far, her plan was not +bringing her lurking enemy from hiding. + +She heard the distant ringing of Gene’s bell,--ringing, ringing. Again +her heart seemed to be in her throat, choking her. Suppose that Gene +slept so soundly that no mere telephone bell could arouse him! Many +men slept like that. How did she know where Gene had the instrument! +It might be in his closet or his bathroom, anywhere but in his +bedroom! These possibilities flashed through her tortured brain and +made the few seconds seem like hours. Then came a still worse fear. +Perhaps Gene had changed his mind and not gone home at all! She +remembered that often he had told her of taking long midnight walks in +Central Park, when he was unhappy about her and knew that he could not +sleep because of her. Perhaps that was where he was, right that +moment! + +Fear weights time with lead, even when thoughts fly in whirling +rapidity through one’s brain. Perhaps Central wasn’t calling the right +number! Her suspense--by this time, acute agony--was unbearable. She +signalled for the operator, started to repeat the number, and +then--God, the relief! Gene’s voice, dull and clouded with sleep, +saying “Hello!” as if he’d like to murder somebody if he were not too +sleepy to take the trouble. + +She almost screamed with the easing of tension. Using what little +control she had left, she modulated her voice to a pitch of casual +friendliness and unconcern. Her inspiration had come! She knew, +suddenly, just what she was going to say to Gene. + +“I suppose you’ll curse me for waking you up, Gene.” + +“For Heaven’s sake, Margot!” + +All sleepiness and latent irritation gone; an eager, naïve joy in his +tone, struck her as ludicrous, considering her desperate need of him. + +“Awfully sorry to disturb you, but I’ve been trying to read myself to +sleep with a French book, and I’ve struck a passage I can’t +understand. Will you translate it?” + +“Translate--French!” His voice sounded flat with disappointment. +Apparently the absurdity of her request did not strike him. Gene was +like that--so darn literal. And he was accustomed to her being erratic +at all times and seasons. + +“Yes. Now listen carefully, Gene! These are the phrases that I don’t +understand: + +“_Il y a un homme au-dessous de mon lit. Venez tout de suite!_” + +She pronounced each word with slow distinctness. Her blood tingled in +her veins and pricked her skin with the realization that if her enemy +happened to know French, it would be all up with her in a few seconds. +He might wait until she hung up the receiver, knowing that a sudden +outcry of fear from her would give the alarm over the wire, but +_after_ that---- + +For an instant Gene was silent, apparently too surprised to answer +her. He knew well enough that she read French with ease. Then a laugh +came to her over the wires. + +“What’s the joke, Margot? Surely you know what those phrases mean.” + +Oh, Heavens! Gene, with his literal mind, and his slow imagination! + +“I’ll repeat what I said, dear. Guess you didn’t hear me.” + +She had all she could do this time to control the trembling of her +voice. + +She repeated the foreign words slowly, striving to cut through space +to where Gene seemed to exist only as a voice. By the color in her own +voice and sheer force of will, she must get her meaning over to him. + +Sleepiness perhaps made Gene dense. He translated a little flippantly: + +“‘_There’s a man under my bed. Come at once!_’” + +A third time she repeated the words, then said in English with +cautious urgency: + +“Get it now, don’t you, Gene?” + +He got it! She heard his gasp of horror. + +“Good God! Be there in five minutes!” + +“Wait a second, Gene!” + +Another swift thought had come to her. The door to her room was not +locked. Thank God for that! She could never have left the bed and gone +to the door, even to open it for Gene. She recalled distinctly having +put the lock on the catch, early in the evening, and had forgotten to +change it. Gene could walk right in! + +“Just one more phrase I can’t understand. _Pas besoin de frapper. Ma +porte est ouverte._” + +“All right, all right. Be right over!” + +“Thanks for translating,” she said quietly, to complete the pretense, +if indeed it were still that. The receiver at Gene’s end had already +been hung up. “Good night!” + +Then--seconds that were years of waiting for _It_ to come forth! It +would surely come now if her French had been understood. Nothing! Not +a sound--not a movement. Only the beating of her own heart, so loud it +sounded to her that she wondered if it could not be heard by whatever +it was that waited beneath her. + +Gone, that particular and immediate danger! _It_ had _not_ understood +French! She relaxed on her pillow with a sigh that was almost a groan +of relief. Odd that she should still be safe, she reflected vaguely. +Only a few minutes and Gene would be here! Thank Heaven that he lived +in the same block! He would have to ring the house bell, but it +connected with the basement and could not be heard upstairs. Again +thank God for all small mercies. + +Hours! Days! Weeks! Then--upon the deathly stillness came a faint +sound of creaking wood. Gene was on the stairs! He was on the landing! +She could hear the shuffle of his feet! Then--the handle of her door +turning without sound, and the next second the door was thrown open, +literally hurled back against the wall. She saw Gene standing there, a +revolver in his hand. She saw him glance at her as if to be sure of +her safety before he could think of anything else. His face was +deathly white. Margot lay under the bed covers as stiff and still as +if she were dead. + +Then she heard Gene’s quiet command: + +“Get out from under that bed!” + +Silence--a silence so thick with suspense that it seemed a part of the +living menace which remained invisible. + +Good God! Gene was a target as he stood there waiting, his revolver +leveled toward the floor. + +Margot watched with staring, helpless fear, she too waiting, for +Heaven knew what! + +Gene advanced slowly into the room, still keeping eyes and revolver +pointed to the floor near the bed. Then he spoke again: + +“Get out from there if you don’t want to get shot!” + +Silence, a silence that pressed on Margot’s heart like a living thing. +She watched Gene take a few more steps closer to the bed. Then +suddenly he dropped to his knees, facing the foot-board of the bed, +bent until his head almost touched the rug, and aimed the revolver in +a quick motion back and forth. Margot could only see the curve of his +back over the foot of the bed. She felt she could breathe once more. +The fear, for Gene and for herself, had suddenly lifted, for some +strange reason. + +Gene got quickly to his feet, and stood looking at Margot. His +expression of utter amazement would have struck her as comic in a +saner moment. + +“There’s nothing under that bed.” + +He made the announcement with the calmness of a mind suddenly stunned +by surprise and emptied of emotion. + +For a second she thought that fear had unbalanced him. Then came a +dazed confusion to her own brain. Of course Gene was right! There +could be nothing under the bed or it would have attacked him. +But--where could the creature have gone--where and how and when, while +she lay there watching and waiting in frozen horror? + +“I saw a hand--a hand and arm, come out from under the bed, and put +out a match on the rug.” The mystery which seemed to augment the +horror, made her whisper the words. + +Gene lifted the small electric lamp to the floor, raised the +overhanging coverlet, and looked again under the large brass bed. Then +he got to his feet, more slowly this time. + +“Nothing there!” His glance at Margot, seeming to raise the doubt as +to there having been anything there at any time, made her spring from +the bed, oblivious to the fact that she stood before him in her +pajamas. + +The look she threw him was a challenge and defiant assurance that he +was--must be--mistaken. She knew there was something under that bed! +She dropped to one knee and stared at the empty space extending to two +sides of the wall. Nothing! Absolutely nothing! + +She stood up, staring at Gene with a dazed expression, and still +innocently unconscious of her attire. + +“Something _was_ under that bed! I was wide awake so it wasn’t a +dream. How could I have _imagined_ what I saw!” + +“What did you think you saw--I mean, what did you see?” Gene hastily +corrected himself. + +“I’ll tell you what I saw.” She shivered in remembrance of creeping +horror, and her voice trembled with excitement as she tried to tell +him what happened. + +“I couldn’t sleep, and I lighted a cigarette to take a few more puffs. +I dropped the match to the floor, then remembered suddenly the danger +on this old rug, I reached over the side of the bed to find the match. +Just at that instant a thin white hand and arm crept out, oh so softly +and quickly and deliberately tapped the lighted match and put it out, +then withdrew back under the bed. _That’s_ what I _saw_, I tell you, +and God knows why I didn’t die of fright.” + +Something in Gene’s eyes--a puzzled wonder perhaps--made her say +eagerly: + +“You look as if you think I’m crazy, Gene. When I called you my life +was in danger. Don’t you _believe_ me?” + +“Of course, of course, dear. But it’s all right now. Whatever it was +you saw isn’t there now, and I’m here instead.” + +His smile was meant to be soothing, but it angered her. + +“You’re acting as if you thought I were hysterical. I’m never +hysterical. And I’m not the kind to get any man out of bed in the +middle of the night, just on a wild goose chase!” + +The tenderness that filled his eyes and his tentative move toward her, +as if to express his tenderness, brought sudden consciousness to +Margot of her unclad condition. She was too well bred to apologize or +refer to it in words, but she reached to the foot of the bed, seized a +silk kimono that lay there, and slipped it on quickly. Then she looked +at him almost impersonally, her eyes bright with the keenness of the +thought that had come to her. + +“Gene! There’s a mystery, sure enough, about this room, and we’re +going to solve it. At least I am, and I’d like to have your help.” + +Whatever he may have thought about mysteries which brought Margot +nearer to him in dependence and trust, he was wise enough to keep to +himself. All he said was: + +“Righto! I’m keen about detective stuff. You furnish the Sherlock +Holmes end of it, Margot, and I’ll attend to any scrapping that may +form part of the game.” + +Her face softened and her voice deepened with a throaty note, as +always when she was deeply stirred. + +“You’re _such_ a brick, Gene, dear!” Then her lips quivered into a +smile which made his heart beat faster. “You’re--you’re wonderful to +me. I don’t know what I’d have done without you to-night.” + +Her eyes filled with sudden tears and she shivered, drawing the kimono +closer about her. He took an eager step toward her. + +“Margot--darling--you’re all in. You’ve had a fearful nervous shock.” + +The sympathy in his voice broke down her last reserve. She had poise, +and character and a clever brain, but first and last she was feminine +and she had been badly frightened. + +“You--you don’t know what I’ve been through!” She bent a little toward +him as if her own strength were not enough for her. + +In the next few minutes, as Margot’s head lay against his shoulder, +and dry, nervous sobs shook her slight body, Gene had the sort of +struggle that few women understand, to compel his arms to express the +tenderness and protective gentleness that was what she wanted of him, +and restrain their passionate yearning to crush her against his heart. + +Margot understood perfectly. She felt the trembling that went over him +like a wave, from head to foot, and she felt his soft kiss on her +hair. For the first time she wondered if she didn’t love Gene well +enough for--well, for marriage and all the rest. + +His protective strength gave her back her self-control, and it gave +her something else--a realization that it would be good to have Gene’s +love and strength to depend upon. Still clinging to him with one hand, +with the other she rubbed her eyes, then gave a tremulous laugh. + +“For an independent female who wants no man’s help, I’m doing rather +well, don’t you think, Gene?” + +She looked up into his eyes, and their smile invited his caress. He +bent his lips to hers and for the first time since he had loved her, +Margot’s kiss told him that she cared more for him than any words of +hers had admitted. + +He kissed her hair, her temple, her throat, just under her ear where +her hair swept back. Then he whispered into her ear. + +“Darling--you do love me--just a little, don’t you?” + +“Just a little,” she whispered back. As if afraid that she had +surrendered too much and too quickly, she drew gently out of his arms, +with a glance that told him he mustn’t press the advantage gained. +Then a frown drew her eyes together, as if to remind him that the +situation demanded concentrated thought and action, unrelated to +love-making. + +“Gene, whether I ever sleep again in this room or not, I’ve _got_ to +know what was under my bed and where it went to. You said you’d help +me?” + +“You bet I will!” His smile was apparently as unemotional as his +words. + +She stared at the rug where the match had fallen, as if to seek there +the first clue in the unraveling of the mystery. Suddenly she ran to +the spot, across the few feet of space intervening. She threw herself, +literally, to her knees and bent her head close to the rug. Then, +excitedly she called to him, without lifting her head. + +“Gene! Come here! Look at this!” + +He got down on his knees beside her and looked where she pointed. What +he saw was a distinct hollow in the nap of the rug, a hollow the size +of the tip of a human finger. Into this the black char from the +burning match had been pressed and smudged. + +Slowly they got to their feet and stood in silence for a few seconds, +looked at each other with widened eyes. Gene, for the first time since +he had reached the room, looked sincerely puzzled and uncertain. + +“I guess that settles it,” Margot said slowly. “I wasn’t just ‘seein’ +things at night.’ Not even a real ghost could have made that mark on +the rug. Now, what?” + +“Now,” Gene said thoughtfully, “with your permission, I’m going to +call the police.” + +She hesitated. Her glance wavered from the spot on the rug, to the +telephone, then to Gene. + +“I think we’d better. It would be foolish to wait till daylight. Of +course they may think us a couple of idiots. Policemen haven’t much +imagination.” + +Gene walked to the telephone and called up the police. + +“And now, my dear,” said Margot, “I’ve got to put on some clothes +before they get here. I’ll have to do it here, for I’m scared to go +into the bathroom--it might be tenanted.” She gave a nervous laugh. +“So shut your eyes, old dear, or turn your back, and have your +revolver ready in case I have to throw shame to the winds and yell for +help.” + +It took her only a few moments to get into a house dress and comb her +ruffled hair. The comb dropped from her hand to the top of the chest +of drawers, as a loud banging at the front door resounded through the +old house. She stood close to Gene as they listened to the heavy +trampling of feet downstairs. Gene ran to the door and flung it open. +The officers of the law came up to the landing with a rush, and behind +them scurried Mrs. Bellew, in a half-buttoned wrapper and curl papers. +For all the excitement and her own nervous tension, Margot’s lips +twisted with the smile she tried to control as she saw her landlady. + +Patrolmen Michael Quinlan and Shane Boyle, stood each of them nearly +six feet. Their pugnacious but kindly faces, their clean wholesome +skins, suggesting a life spent in the open, their broad blue-coated +chests, and their nightsticks, swung with just the right suggestion of +authority and force, made Margot’s room seem suddenly and +incongruously, about the safest place in New York. + +Quinlan glanced sharply from Margot to Gene. His voice was as sharp as +his words. + +“Speak up! What’s wrong here?” + +Gene, not wishing to dominate the situation, unless Margot wished him +to, looked at her enquiringly. She nodded quickly with a smile, then +addressed Quinlan, briefly and a little crisply. + +“This is _my_ room. I occupy it alone.” Slight emphasis on the last +word. “I’d had a party here. Everybody had gone home and I went to +bed. After I’d switched off the electric light, I lighted a cigarette +and threw the match on to the floor. It struck me suddenly that it was +a dangerous thing to do, so I leaned over the side of the bed to make +sure the match wasn’t still burning. As I did this, I saw a hand and +arm reach out from under the bed----” + +“Sneak thief, eh?” Quinlan couldn’t wait for the end of her narrative. +“Think he’s still around here?” He made a movement to approach the +bed, but Margot stopped him with a slight gesture of her hand. + +“Wait, please! Let me finish. The hand reached out to the match and +tapped the burning end of it. I was too frightened to move or make a +sound. Then the hand and arm were drawn back under the bed. I made +sure, as soon as I could control my thoughts, that I had a maniac to +deal with. I screwed up my courage and switched on the light. Nothing +happened, but I fully expected to be murdered any minute. Then I +telephoned to my friend Mr. Valery, made up a yarn about wanting him +to translate some French I was reading, and got it over to him in +French that a man--or something--was under my bed. He came right over +in five minutes. When he looked under my bed, there was nothing to be +seen.” + +Painfully conscious, as she neared the end of her story, that it must +sound absurd and unconvincing to others, she threw a brightly +challenging look from one policeman to the other. Their friendly Irish +faces expressed a struggle between doubt of her sanity and amusement +at the situation. Then Boyle said bluntly: + +“Sounds like a pipe dream to me, lady.” + +“It’s neither a pipe dream nor a nightmare,” she said gently. Her +common-sense told her that it would be absurd to get up on her dignity +because these two unimaginative but kindly disposed policemen, showed +frank disbelief of her statements. “Look here, please!” She walked to +where the match had been smudged into the rug. “Just bend down and +take a good look at that and tell me what you both think of it.” + +What they both thought of it was not evident in the scowling, +bewildered scrutiny they bent upon the rug. Then a thick, red finger +went out to touch the spot. + +“Don’t please!” Margot’s sharp command caused the finger to draw back +slowly. “We may want to examine that later again,” she said more +gently. “It must not be touched by anyone.” + +The officers stood erect and exchanged glances that showed an +uncertain state of mind that they were determined to conceal, but +Margot’s keen eyes saw and understood. + +Said Quinlan, squaring his shoulders: “Well, Miss, what do you want us +to do?” + +“Investigate thoroughly, please.” Something in her quiet assurance and +dignity went further to convince the two men, that here was something +not so easily disposed of as they had thought, stranger than even that +queer mark on the rug. + +“Sure,” Quinlan said, swinging shoulders and nightstick as he +approached the bed. “Where’s that door lead to?” He indicated the one +opening upon the roof-garden. + +“There’s a roof out there.” It was Gene who gave the information. He +pointed to another door. “That’s a closet, and the bathroom’s next to +this. Opens into the hall.” + +Boyle walked to the door opening on the roof, and Quinlan dragged the +heavy bed aside, remarking comfortingly to Margot: + +“Never a sniff or sign of a living soul’ll escape us, Miss, so don’t +you worry!” + +He moved the bed out into the room, then rapped the floor with his +stick. There was no cupboard behind the bed, nor any aperture in the +wall except a small register protected by a grill through which a +mouse could scarcely have passed. He gave a scornful prod to the +mattress and struck the bed springs, just by way of not omitting +anything. Then he walked to the closet. It was a deep closet and wide, +hung with many clothes. It required a few seconds to give the closet +its due portion of attention. Quinlan turned back into the room just +as Boyle returned from his inspection of the roof and bathroom. +Quinlan stood a little awkwardly, swinging his stick. His lips were +tight shut in a sort of pursed smile, and he lowered his head a little +as he looked at Margot. + +“Look here, Miss. Do ye mind telling me what business you’re in?” + +Slightly taken aback, and throwing a glance at Gene to which he +responded by moving closer to her, she said: + +“I’m a motion picture actress.” + +Quinlan lifted his head and the pursed smile widened to good-natured +amusement. + +“Say! That don’t surprise me, at all at all. You movie queens sure +like to pull anything to make a story for the papers, don’t ye now?” +His smile was ingratiating. + +For the first time Margot felt angry resentment. + +“I’ve given you my story, told you the absolute truth. I _saw_ a hand +put out that match. Just because the case is full of mystery is no +reason to insult my intelligence.” + +Quinlan had probably heard of insulting a good many things in the +course of his career, but to insult someone’s ‘intelligence’ was a new +one on him, evidently. He frowned, then smiled sheepishly. + +“Sure, I meant no harm, Miss. Now, just tell me once more, quiet like. +You were scared out of your boots, as you might say. Then you phoned +this young man.” He glanced at Gene. “Now, did you have to get out of +bed to let him in?” + +“No. The door was unlocked. He walked right in.” + +“Humph!” Quinlan’s brain found this almost too easy. His smile +widened. “Sure, don’t you see, Miss, didn’t it strike you at all, that +whoever was under that bed could have crawled to the hall door or the +door leadin’ to the roof, and made his get-a-way?” + +“There was a streak of light from a street lamp, coming through that +door.” She pointed to the roof-garden exit. “It made a faint shaft of +light across the room. I could have seen anything moving over by that +door.” + +“But maybe now, you weren’t lookin’ in that direction all the time. +And it was black, wasn’t it, at this end of the room?” Margot nodded. +“Well, he could have got to the hall door easy. Too dark to see him, +and your heart, likely as not, Miss, was beating too loud for you to +_hear_ him open and shut the door.” + +For a moment Margot was staggered by the apparent simplicity of the +explanation. Then once more she knew beyond all doubt, that, +fear-distraught as she had been during those awful minutes, +nevertheless her hearing had been made more acute by her very fear, +and she could not have failed to hear the slightest movement in the +room. Before she could reply to Quinlan, Mrs. Bellew who had been +standing all this time, too overcome by astonishment and fear and +Heaven knew what other mixed emotions, to do anything but stare +open-mouthed and listen spellbound, suddenly broke forth. + +“Oh, my God, my God!” She was almost hysterical from cumulative fear. +“That thief or that crazy man or whatever it is, is roaming through my +house. I know he is! He’s hiding in some empty room. Find him, oh my +God, find him!” + +Margot went quickly to her distraught landlady and put a hand on her +arm. + +“Don’t get excited,” she said gently. “If there’s anything--I mean +anybody--roaming around in the house, these officers will find him. +I’ll see to that. So don’t you worry, my dear.” + +Mrs. Bellew’s mouth quivered, and tears came into her eyes. + +“I’m that nervous,” she said tremulously. “What with that girl +disappearing the way she did, and that man Murchison, and now this +maniac loose in my house, I’m terribly upset, Miss Anstruther.” + +Quinlan had heard what she said. He went closer to her. + +“What’s that you said about a girl disappearing and a man?” + +Margot, realizing that these other happenings, which might or might +not have bearing on her own experience, would only confuse the present +issue for Quinlan, said quickly: + +“Oh, it’s got nothing whatever to do with what happened to me +to-night. A girl lodger here some months ago, walked out suddenly and +never came back, that’s all. And a man living up stairs disappeared at +the same time.” Her smile at Quinlan was deliberately calculated to +mislead him, and it succeeded. He gave a knowing smile and +comprehending nod. + +“Sure! I get you!” His good-nature was reinforced by the beautiful +young lady’s confiding manner. + +Mrs. Bellew was too self-centered and upset to observe details. She +had not caught Margot’s smile nor the subtle suggestion in her words, +but Gene, delighted at the quick wit of this girl whom he adored, +swallowed a laugh with difficulty. + +Margot turned more seriously to Quinlan. + +“Now, please Officer, search the house thoroughly. But whatever you +do, don’t leave _this_ room unguarded. I swear to you that I saw a +hand and arm creep out from under that bed and put out the match. And +I _know_--” she raised her hand with a solemn gesture, almost as if +taking an oath, “I am as sure as I am that I’m alive, that whatever +was under my bed _didn’t_ get as far as the door.” + +Quinlan’s shrewd look of questioning doubt grew more serious. He +turned to Boyle. + +“You stick here till I get back. After we’re all out, just switch off +the light. That’ll bring action if there’s anything round this +neighborhood. Here, give me a hand with the bed.” + +They shoved the bed back into place, then Quinlan, again swinging his +stick and his shoulders, went to the hall door. + +“Come on, you people. Better find somewheres else to sleep till +mornin’, Miss Anstrooter.” He got the name out with difficulty. + +Margot, Gene and Mrs. Bellew went downstairs and waited in the dimly +lighted front hall. From time to time they caught the chittering +voices of lodgers who were being disturbed by Quinlan’s search. +Finally he joined them below, remarking that he had still to take a +look at the front and back parlors. He struck the parlor door with his +stick. The blow against the heavy wood resounded in the silent house. + +“Not but what he’d have ducked for the street, right off, and----” + +His sentence was never completed. A roar of sheer terror thundered +through the house. Mrs. Bellew gave a scream, and Margot seized Gene’s +arm. + +“Mother Mary!” Quinlan almost whispered the words, and his eyes +bulged. + +The door of Margot’s room, which could be seen from the foot of the +stairs, burst open, and Boyle dashed down the stairs, face ghastly +white and eyes staring. He seemed oblivious of the four figures in the +hall, and made a spring for the front door. Quinlan threw out his arm +and caught him. + +“For the love of God, what’s eatin’ ye?” + +“The hand! The hand!” Boyle was beyond lucid speech. + +“_What_ hand?” Quinlan shook him and shouted at him. + +“The hand from under the bed!” + +“You saw it too?” Margot seized Boyle’s arm with trembling fingers. +Her flesh was cold and tingling. + +Boyle crossed himself. He spoke in a choked undertone. + +“Standin’ there--in the dark--the Holy Saints take witness--it came +out--from under the bed--and doused a flame on the rug!” + + + + + CHAPTER IV. + MOUNTING MYSTERY + +Dawn streaked the eastern sky with orange and gold. A crispness in +the air made Margot draw her cape closer about her. She and Gene had +spent the intervening hour in Mrs. Bellew’s basement room, and now +they stood on her own roof-garden, reveling in fresh air after the +stuffy atmosphere below, and watching the beauty of the dawn through +an open space between two houses to the east of them. + +Margot had more than a stuffy atmosphere to get rid of. She wanted, +for a brief moment, to shake off the memory of nerve-racking hours, +first in the room with the creature of the hand and arm, and, since +Boyle’s sensational climax, the bored depression of listening +patiently to Mrs. Bellew’s wailings, and warnings of still more +trouble to come. The landlady could conceive of no human agency in the +appearance of the ghostly hand and arm. No speculation as to human +motives or mystery were of interest to her. The only explanation that +seemed to fit the case for Mrs. Bellew, was a spiritual one. In plain +simple vernacular, the house was “haunted,” and would continue to be +haunted, therefore bad luck would attend it and her. She had a +ten-year lease and the law would not release her because of ghostly +visitations. It was equally certain that no tenants would remain with +her once the truth should become known. + +Margot had always been interested in psychic phenomena, and was too +open-minded to be skeptical as regards any psychic manifestation. But +in this instance she stuck to her belief that the amazing hand +belonged to the body of a living--a sinister--human criminal. + +Quinlan and Boyle were at this moment prowling heavily about Margot’s +room, and wrangling as to whether anyone had seen anything come out +from under the bed. They had reported to the station house by +telephone, after Boyle had steadied his shaken nerves, and had been +ordered to remain where they were and get to the bottom of the matter +if possible. + +Margot turned from the narrowed but close view of the East River, +glistening in the first sun-rays of early morning, and motioned to +Gene to listen to the policemen inside the room. + +“Listen to them, Gene! They’re awfully amusing.” + +Argument and rehearsal of the night’s drama, ended each time with +something like this: + +“The young lady maybe was dreaming, as you say, Quinlan, and maybe she +_wasn’t_ dreaming. All _I_ know about it is that _I_ seen it with me +mortal--me wakin’--eyes,--a thin, white hand it was,--the hand of a +ghost, God have mercy on us!” + +“Ghosts!” Margot gave a low chuckle as she heard the disgust and scorn +in Quinlan’s voice. “Ghosts, is it? Ain’t ye ashamed to have such a +heathen thought!” + +“Heathen, am I? Well, tell me this, if ye’re so smart ye are! The +young lady saw a hand put out a match she had dropped on the floor. +The light she saw was a match burning. Get that don’t ye? How about +the flame of light I seen with me own eyes? It wasn’t a match, I’ll +tell ye that, for I hadn’t lighted no match, and that ye know as well +as I do.” + +Quinlan’s reply was a grunt that scorned further argument. Margot’s +smile faded as she turned serious eyes to Gene. + +“That’s just it, Gene! Even that ignorant man in there, sees something +there that can’t be explained by ordinary theories. That’s what would +make almost any intelligent person feel sure that the mystery has a +psychic meaning. But nevertheless, I’m sure it’s something else.” + +“See here, Margot darling. Don’t be angry with me if I say--what it’s +easier to say in the cold light of morning--that you _may_ have had a +sort of waking dream--a realistic staging of your imagination which +fooled you into thinking that--well, that it wasn’t your imagination +at all. I happen to know that such things have occurred even to +unimaginative persons.” + +“All right, old dear, granted, for the sake of argument.” Her smile +accepted his skepticism without the resentment she had felt a few +hours before. “And granting that, of course it’s quite simple to +explain what Boyle experienced as the fevered imagination of a +superstitious Irishman. But there still remains the smudge on the rug. +You can’t suppose that I got out of bed, terrorized as I was, before +you got there, and it is certain that neither of us made that mark +_after_ your arrival.” + +“Dearest, that match might have fallen there before you went to bed, +and been stepped on by you, unobserved.” + +“Now, see here, Gene! I know that ‘evening thoughts grow cold at +night,’ to quote some philosopher, or, to paraphrase him, midnight +thoughts freeze up entirely before daylight. Before you called the +police you were ready to concede that I wasn’t _imagining_ things. And +you agreed to help me get to the bottom of what I consider a +mystery--a human mystery, not a psychic one. Now, are you going back +on your offer?” + +“Absolutely not! I’ll do anything you want, and not express a doubt to +anyone.” + +“Righto! Then stop expressing them to me, from now on. And now let’s +go out and rustle some breakfast. After I’ve braced up with some +strong coffee I’ll come back here and dress to go to the studio.” + +“And by the way,” she added, “if you get to the shop before me, don’t +you breathe a word to anyone! It’s _my_ story and I want the fun of +telling it.” + +When Margot returned to her room a half hour later, she found Quinlan +a trifle dubious about leaving her alone in the room. She told him +that she had to dress for the day--bathe, etc.--and asked them to wait +on the landing, if they absolutely wouldn’t go down stairs. + +Daylight--sunlight--made of her room so cheerful and normal, even so +commonplace a setting--so absurd a setting for mystery and mystic +marauders--that she laughed at the notion of keeping two policemen +there all day on guard. Of course there was nothing queer or inimical +lurking about now in broad daylight! Time enough to watch the room +after nightfall. + +She felt weary, utterly let down, now that the excitement of her +midnight adventure had abated. Young as she was, and pretty, she could +not afford to go to the studio looking fagged, with unbecoming shadows +beneath the eyes and the iris clouded from lack of sleep. A hot tub, a +cold shower, setting-up exercises, and a moderate disposal of rouge +and powder over her clear skin, and she was ready for the fray. +Instinctively she always half expected it to be some sort of a fray +with Stoner as director and would-be lover. + +Arriving at Astoria about nine o’clock, she hurried to the main +production floor. Her big scene in _A Toreador’s Love_, was to be shot +to-day, she remembered, with a faint thrill of anticipation. She +couldn’t possibly, in the present circumstances, feel more than a mild +thrill over anything unrelated to the mystery she was so eager to +unravel. However--it behooved her to forget it for a while, charm +Stoner if need be, and certainly to fulfill the promise she had shown +in previous scenes of making good in her big scene. + +Tall scenic creations--the sides of buildings, garden walls embowered +in greenery, the prows of ships--were jumbled together, leaned against +each other in stacks. The place suggested that mysterious region +behind the curtain, stage and backstage, of many opera houses thrown +into one fantastic whole. Carpenters and mechanics hammered and +hauled. In the midst of the confusion, here and there, were completed +sets where scenes were being shot; rooms furnished to the last detail, +with only one or two walls apiece, rooms where actors strolled and +mimed, and upon which blazed the batteries of assembled Kleig lights. + +Margot knew that the movies have a doctrine of efficiency to which +they seldom adhere. Promptness was an unwritten law, but when you were +told to be on hand at nine o’clock sharp for the filming of a scene +prepared the day before, if you were in costume by eleven it would be +too early because the cast would probably have luncheon before +settling down to work. The amount of time wasted throughout the day +was truly remarkable. Margot knew her set was not even ready, and that +the instructions given her to be on time were little more than an +official gesture. + +However--might as well be ready! She changed her clothes then picked +her way through the tangle of props to where May Cheshire, Lulu +Leinster and other girls were chatting. They were all in their street +clothes, Margot observed with a smile. Through the slats of a cabin on +wheels--Corinne Delamar’s dressing-room--shone electric lights +indicating that the star was “making-up.” Frederick Stoner, for once, +lounged silently, while the stage hands adjusted a Spanish balcony. +What was the matter with Stoner, Margot wondered, with amused +indifference! She had never before seen him so restfully +quiescent--restful for all the rest of them. + +A quick glance at the incurious faces of the girls assured her that +Gene had kept silent as to what had happened. But of course Gene +would, even if he hadn’t promised her to do so. Gene, who had +maneuvered to be the camera man on this particular job, stood apart +from the crowd, tinkering with his camera. His back was turned to her. +Margot had a sudden impulse to go up and speak to him. It would be +incautious, perhaps, to indicate the very faintest friendly interest +in Gene while they were in the shop. It might irritate Stoner but--to +perdition with Stoner! She’d do what she wanted to, such a little +thing anyway. And Gene was _such_ a brick! + +She approached him with a gentle: + +“Hello, Gene!” + +He swung around at the sound of her voice, almost dropping what he +held in his hand. His eager eyes swept her from head to foot. He +hadn’t seen her in this Spanish rig before. + +“By the Lord, Margot, you’re stunning! Beautiful Andalusian, except +for that glimpse of your hair.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. +“You’re as fresh and lovely as if you hadn’t been up all night.” + +“All depends, you know, what you’re about, when you’re up all night. +They say that when you’re keenly interested in something or somebody, +you don’t show fatigue, and you’ll have to admit that I was keenly +interested in _something_--_and somebody_!” She laughed, looking at +him out of the corners of her roguish eyes. + +“I suppose you’re endowing a myth--an apparition--with personality,” +he said a little somberly. + +“Take care!” She shook a finger at him. “You promised not to express +the least doubt in future, even to me. But, as a matter of fact, old +dear, when I used the word ‘somebody,’ I really _meant_ you.” + +The sudden light in his eyes warned her that it was no place in which +to play with fire, the fire being in Gene’s eyes. She whispered that +she’d see him later in the day, and turned to join the other girls. +Just then Stoner saw her. He stood only a few feet away, but he +approached nearer, where she stood next to Lulu Leinster. + +“Hello!” he greeted her, appraising her with his quick, shrewd eyes. +“Top of the morning! Sleep well, after that grand little party of +yours?” + +“Not a wink!” Her bright glance was friendly enough, but she did not +smile. She often gave the impression of smiling when actually her +mobile lips remained closed. + +“What on earth--” he began, sincerely mystified. “You don’t mean that +the mild drinks and our milder society, made you as wakeful as all +that?” + +“Oh no, I don’t mean that!” Her smile was vaguely irritating to him. +“I didn’t sleep a wink because I was rehearsing the first scene in New +York’s greatest detective mystery.” + +For a second his eyes narrowed, or she thought they did, and seemed to +probe back of her words. Then his expression changed swiftly to an +amused understanding of her light mood. A mere jest, of course, he +seemed to say with the smile on his full lips. + +He stepped a little closer to her, but did not raise his voice. + +“Trying to call attention to your youth and beauty by pretending that +they’re proof even against a sleepless night? You don’t need to, my +dear.” His bold glance was like an unwelcome caress. + +The unexpected twist he had given her remark, annoyed her, and his +glance was an affront. + +“Nothing of the sort! I _was_ awake all night, and it _did_ concern a +mystery.” + +Again he studied her, a little puzzled. + +“Guess it would take a good live mystery to keep _you_ awake, Margot. +You couldn’t work yourself up to such a pitch just by telling or +listening to a tale like the one you gave us about that girl who +disappeared, and the old fellow.” + +She had almost forgotten the story about Stella Ball and the man +Murchison. Odd, too, because she recalled that when Mrs. Bellew had +nearly gone into hysterics when the policemen were examining the room, +it had struck her as remotely possible that there might be a +connection between the old and the new mystery. Now, she felt +suddenly, with a little shudder, that it might be more than remotely +possible. + +“You’ve said it, Mr. Stoner! That’s just what it was and is--‘a good, +live mystery.’ And something new to fact and fiction. A creature +without a body or a face. It was in my room for hours.” + +The other girls were crowding around her, pushing and buzzing like a +swarm of insects. She smiled at one and the other, then, with another +glance at the director, she said calmly: + +“A policeman saw it, too!” + +In the midst of the chirping and excited cries of the girls, she +distinguished Stoner’s low exclamation of astonishment. + +“A policeman! What on earth were you doing with a policeman?” + +“Nothing wrong, I trust.” She could not resist the facetious retort, +nor control the smile of amusement that almost broke into a laugh at +Stoner’s angry dignity. The girls, at least, had the sense to giggle, +but that only made Stoner more indignant. + +“See here, my dear young friend, I’ve got a busy day ahead of me, and +so have you. Can’t waste time with foolish cracks. You made a +statement regarding a policeman. Was that your little joke?” + +“No it wasn’t!” she snapped, her eyes suddenly flashing. Stoner +annoyed her. “Something darn queer happened last night--_so_ darn +queer, that I called Gene Valery on the phone, because, frankly, I was +frightened out of my wits, then we called the police.” + +Open-mouthed and speechless interest greeted her on the part of the +girls, and a few men standing by now, on the edge of the circle around +her. To her surprise, Stoner also was silent, watching her intently +out of half-closed eyes. She gave them the story from beginning to +end, repeating the high spots for the emotional avidity of the May and +Lulu types of mind. She hardly expected very intelligent or +constructive comment from any of them, but Stoner’s first remark +surprised her. She had counted on him for a bit of racy skepticism. +But he said, with a dark frown: + +“Rotten thing to have happened--rotten!” + +“Why rotten?” Her sense of irritation with him increased. “I may have +to wait a long time for another such break in the monotony of my +life.” + +“Should think you’d rather have some other kind of diversion than a +low-down burglar sneaking in and out of your room at night.” + +“Who said it was a burglar?” Again she snapped at him. “Nothing so +commonplace as that, I assure you, or I shouldn’t have taken the +trouble to talk about it.” She caught Gene’s eyes over the heads of +the excited girls. He had approached and stood outside the circle. She +addressed him directly. + +“I’d call it an extraordinary mystery, wouldn’t you, Gene?” + +“Decidedly extraordinary,” he said quietly. + +Stoner’s quick glance at Gene warned her that she might dare much in +personal encounters with the director, but that for Gene’s sake and +her own, she must be more cautious where he was concerned. She +contrived to smile more pleasantly at Stoner. + +“Yes, it’s a mystery, and what’s more, _I’m_ going to solve it!” + +“Want to be a female Sherlock Holmes, eh?” he said sullenly. “Well, +I’d advise you not to. There’s danger, meddling with that sort of +thing.” + +Something in his tone and manner warned the girls that their director +would prefer to talk alone with Margot. They faded away regretfully, +their curiosity by no means sated. The men strolled off and Margot +found herself facing Stoner’s eyes in which there lurked, or she +fancied it, a faint menace--the menace of a will opposed to her own. +She took up the gauntlet. + +“What do you mean by danger, Mr. Stoner?” + +“Danger of your melodramatic story breaking into the newspapers.” + +“I don’t understand,” she frowned at him. “What if it did? I’m neither +a society bud nor a sister of mercy. I am--or trying to be--a motion +picture actress. If publicity ever hurt any woman in _this_ +profession, it’s news to me.” Her smile was a little mocking. + +“See here, Margot!” He threw off suddenly his aggressive manner. “You +know I’ve done all I could to give you a chance,--shove you ahead. +I’ve no object in giving you a wrong lead. When I advise you to lay +off of freakish publicity, it’s only for your own good.” + +Mollified, but still dubious and puzzled, she said: + +“But I’m not planning to do _anything_ just for the sake of a +write-up. My investigation of my little mystery is going to be dead +serious. If the papers get hold of it and send reporters to me, I’ll +give them a straight story. What’s wrong about that? They make up what +you don’t tell them, anyway.” + +Stoner seemed to hesitate, then he said quietly: + +“I see I’ve got to be frank with you, Margot. You’re not a star _yet_, +my dear girl, and you can’t afford to pull front page stuff that would +make the leading lady sore.” + +Taken by surprise, Margot stared at him. + +“You mean--Corinne Delamar?” + +“Think she’d like to see _you_ head-lined, when _she_ hasn’t been able +to make the papers in a big way since we started this picture?” + +“Why--I hadn’t thought of her at all.” + +“Well, girlie, you’ve got a think coming. She’d be sore as hell, take +it from me. I know her.” + +“Of course,” Margot began doubtfully, “I don’t wish to antagonize Miss +Delamar. But how do you know she wouldn’t get interested herself, if +she knew what a strange experience I’ve had! Suppose I tell her about +it?” + +“No! Drop the whole business--please!” Stoner’s face was flushed and +there was sharp command in his voice. + +More annoyed with him than she had ever been before, Margot flashed +angry rebellion at him, then she turned away with brusque indifference +to appearances, walked off the floor and went upstairs to the dressing +room she shared with a few other girls. + +She was more than annoyed at Stoner’s unsympathetic attitude, and what +struck her as an attempt to bully her. The more she pondered the +matter, the more puzzled she grew. If he were sincere in his stand +regarding publicity, why had he vacillated in argument? First he had +warned her against the harm of freakish notoriety, then he had +switched to the possibility of arousing the star’s hostility. + +Suddenly the absurdity of it all struck her--her own absurdity above +all, for it _was_ ridiculous of her to have taken Stoner so seriously, +and not seen below the surface to his real motive. The simple truth, +so she felt, was that Stoner was indulging unreasoning and petty +jealousy of Gene. He hated the thought that Gene and not himself had +been associated with her in an adventure. He hated still more the idea +of this association becoming public news. She recalled his glum +demeanor when she had told of Gene coming to her supposed rescue. +Obviously, Stoner would go far to prevent a sensational sequel to the +adventure, which would bracket her name with that of the man whom he +regarded as an impudent rival. It would be most galling to a man of +Stoner’s character. + +Finally she resolved that nothing should induce her to discuss the +matter in the studio again that day--or any other day, for that +matter! And she stuck to her decision in the face of a regular +bombardment of feminine questions. Stoner was less easy to avoid. He +had more approaches than one. He led her aside about an hour after she +had reappeared on the set. His first remark was so blunt and +apparently sincere, that it took her off guard. + +“So you won’t credit me with being in love for the first time in my +life?” + +Her stare of surprise was as frank as his question. + +“Why--really,” she stalled, with a faint smile. “I never consider such +things in working hours.” + +“Be serious!” he commanded frowning. “You’d better understand, first +as last, that we’re both in a game where love and work are often mixed +up, pretty close sometimes.” + +She loathed him for his implication of favoritism at a price. With a +cool little smile, she said: + +“I’ve told you several times, Mr. Stoner, that I’m not the least +interested in the game of love, just at present, with you or any other +man. I mean what I say. Why insist?” + +“Because I want to get it well into your head that I really am +seriously in love with you. I’d like you to believe in me, even if you +can’t love me--yet. Now, take that question of my advice about +publicity. You acted as if you thought I was trying to injure you.” + +“Oh, no,” she said sweetly. “I’m quite willing to acknowledge your +good intentions.” She could not control the touch of sarcasm in her +smile. But he seemed not to notice it, which was as well. + +He grew more cheerful. His smile was ingratiating. + +“I’ve been thinking that it mightn’t do any harm to make a cautious +investigation of your spook. Suppose we go over it together. Have +dinner with me, then, afterwards, we could look through your quarters +for clues.” + +“I’m sorry, Mr. Stoner, and thank you very much, but I have an +engagement to-night.” + +His face clouded instantly. “As usual,” he growled. + +She passed that up, then said gently: + +“Even if I could dine with you, to-night, Mr. Stoner, my mystery +wouldn’t form part of your entertainment. Second thoughts are not +always best. Not in this case anyway. You told me emphatically to drop +my mystery--not investigate it. And that’s that!” + +They stood looking at each other, Margot serene and smiling, Stoner +scowling and affronted. Then, her eyes, with their uncanny power to +detect thought or emotion in other eyes superficially inexpressive, +witnessed for the third time since she had first met him, that strange +dilating of the small pupil; that queer overtone as of a yellowish +shadow darkening the pale blue of the iris; that shimmer in the +eyeball, like dust specks seen in a sunbeam. She had once more that +sensation of hearing something she could not understand; something +that he was unconscious of saying. + +Then Stoner walked away, and Margot stood motionless, with an +intangible, vague wonder in her groping mind. + +Hours later, Margot, standing on the side lines, dressed as +_Conchita_, felt no surprise that her director had so manipulated +matters during the balance of the day, that her scene was not called. +As she watched the filming of secondary shots, she felt relief that +her first important scene had been postponed. She was in no mood to do +herself credit, and she was glad that Stoner’s petty resentment had +given her such a good chance to rest and wait. If he had intended to +make her regret her treatment of him, how disappointed he would be, if +he knew the truth. + +Suddenly she was aware of Corinne Delamar’s rather arrogant stare from +across the lot. A scene had just been finished, and the star stood at +ease, smoking a cigarette. For the moment Stoner was busy and +unobservant. Margot stared back, but without impudence. It was rather +as if she said to Corinne: Well, sorry you don’t like me. Suppose you +tell me why! + +The unspoken challenge reached perhaps to the brain of Miss Delamar. +Deliberately and slowly she crossed to where Margot stood. She went +close to her before she spoke. Then she said: + +“I want to talk with you, Miss Anstruther. Will you come to my +dressing-room?” + +Surprised, but not averse to an encounter--she felt vaguely that it +would be that--with the star, Margot smiled her willingness to follow +Corinne to her dressing-room. A couple of uncomfortable chairs, two +cigarettes, a slight pause over the ponderous matter of lighting them, +and then: + +“What’s your little game?” drawled Corinne, lazily puffing and +inhaling and blowing smoke through her small nose. + +Margot, with a gasp and the flashing thought that never would she +learn to cope with women of the star’s type, said gently: + +“I’m sorry if I’m stupid, Miss Delamar, but I’m afraid I don’t +understand what you mean.” + +“Oh--_don’t_ you?” + +Vague suggestion of insolence made the blood mount swiftly in Margot’s +face. It showed through her make-up. + +“Frankly, I don’t,” she repeated gently. “I might imagine many things, +but I prefer not to.” + +“Well, I’d hate to have you overwork your imagination, so I’ll help +you out. Are you playing Frederick Stoner just on general business +principles, or is it something more--personal?” + +Quick resentment flamed into Margot’s gray eyes, but she controlled +herself to say gently: + +“Will you tell me what right you have, Miss Delamar, to assume that +I’m ‘playing’--as you call it--the director, from any motive +whatsoever?” + +“Don’t be ridiculous, please! Try to talk as if you gave me credit for +having at _least_ as much intelligence as yourself.” + +Margot half rose from her chair, on the impulse to leave Corinne +forthwith, not condescending to give her a reply, rude or courteous. +But another impulse followed and held her in her chair. For some +reason too vague to analyze, she wanted to conciliate Corinne, if this +could be done without loss of dignity. + +“Miss Delamar, please try to believe me when I tell you that I am +_not_ making use of the director, either for professional purposes or +personal ones. I’ve tried, of course, to be friendly with him. Who +doesn’t? I’m quite sure that a girl can’t expect to get very far in +pictures, without favoritism or some sort of pull or backing, unless +maybe she has extraordinary talent.” + +“Tell me--which of us two--you or I--has ‘extraordinary talent’?” +Corinne’s pretty lips twisted in a smile of malice and irony. + +Margot detested flattery, but she caught the implication in Corinne’s +question--unexpectedly clever of Corinne!--and realized that she was +treading on thin ice. Corinne was a violent little thing. Better not +arouse her. + +“Well, I’m fairly sure _I_ haven’t got extraordinary talent, +nevertheless I have hopes of getting on without influence, so I’ll +modify what I said. A girl _may_ get on if she’s fairly good-looking, +screens well, can act pretty well, and has a personality that helps to +get her over.” + +Corinne gave her a grudging smile. + +“You’re smarter than I thought you were. You’ve summed up things +flatteringly for both of us. I have all the assets you mention, so +that lets _me_ out. No suggestion that _I’ve_ had any favoritism to +boost me. And it lets you out too! Miss Anstruther, if I didn’t +dislike you so much, I could almost find it in my heart to love you.” +Her smile was not unamiable. + +Frankly surprised, Margot said quickly: + +“Why do you dislike me so much? I know you’ve avoided me, and I know +that you think I’ve flirted with Stoner and--and--all that,” she +fumbled with slight confusion, remembering the ridicule in the remarks +of girls who had told her that the star was jealous of her and Stoner. + +“Well, I’ll take your word for it. I kind of thought I saw signs of +your having come over into my yard to play--when I haven’t been +around. Understand, my dear? But if you say you’ve just kind of +wandered in by mistake, and if you’ll agree to sort of leave my--my +yard alone, why I guess I won’t hate you.” + +If Corinne had used the word “property” instead of “yard,” her meaning +could not have been clearer, Margot reflected, with eyes lowered to +conceal her reflection. She rose and tried to smile cordially. + +“I hope that you and I will be friends before this picture’s finished. +I admire Mr. Stoner for his ability and for his jolly good nature +which doesn’t often get spoiled. But, frankly, Miss Delamar, he isn’t +at all my type, nor am I his. He’s interested, of course, in the +talent he believes I have, but naturally--and _obviously_--he’s far +more interested in _your_ talent.” + +That ended the strange little interview, but not Margot’s reflections +upon it. Late that afternoon Gene contrived hurriedly to make an +appointment with her for dinner. They left the studio separately and +met in New York at a specified restaurant. Afterwards they went to +what Margot facetiously called the house of mystery. + + + + + CHAPTER V. + WEIRD SUSPICIONS + +During dinner Gene had made several attempts to swing Margot into a +mood which would be at least gracious to his love-making, but she had +been distrait, which was more disconcerting than a frank rebuff. On +the way home he held her arm with a pressure that evoked only a light +laugh. + +“Funny old dear,” she said teasingly. “You’re determined to be amorous +to-night, but really, Gene, I can’t take my mind off my mystery, even +for a minute. Do you know, I haven’t telephoned home all day, just +because I didn’t want to take the edge off my return. Let’s hurry and +see if there have been any new developments.” + +Gene followed her lead, but took a silent oath to kiss her before the +evening should be over, mystery or no mystery. + +Once over the threshold of the house on Forty-ninth Street, they felt +at once the atmosphere of suspicion and jangled nerves, as embodied in +the person of Mrs. Bellew. In Margot’s room they found Quinlan and +Boyle, both on guard, with the landlady hovering about, babbling +theories that no one was interested in. + +The policemen told Margot that a plainclothes detective from +headquarters had been there to interview her, and would shortly +return. A few minutes later he appeared, a cold, shrewd officer, who +answered to the top-heavy name of Cornelius Hart. He seemed like an +intelligent type, but intolerant. Evidently he had brushed aside all +second-hand reports, insisting upon getting Margot’s story from her +own lips. + +For the fourth time she gave her narrative without embellishments. +Hart listened attentively and prodded her with occasional questions. +Finally he said: + +“Miss Anstruther, I think you have a powerful imagination.” + +It was what she might have expected, but she felt the same unreasoning +resentment which all skepticism regarding her experience seemed to +evoke. She said quietly: + +“This policeman,” she glanced at Boyle, “saw what I saw.” + +“Sure! Boyle’s an Irishman. He’ll see anything anybody else sees. They +believe in the Banshee, where _he_ comes from.” + +Boyle growled an indignant but indistinguishable protest. + +“Many mysterious happenings which have been explained in the end, have +appeared just as fantastic in the beginning as what I’ve told you.” +Margot tried logic on Hart, without success. + +“The chief difficulty, Miss Anstruther, in accepting the arm and hand +you describe, is that they were attached to no body.” + +“How do you _know_ that?” she came back at him quickly. + +“Well, looks that way, doesn’t it?” + +“All right, let it go at that, but don’t you think it’s a problem +worth at least _trying_ to solve, that an arm _apparently_ attached to +no body, nevertheless did certain definite things? Put it that way.” + +Hart shrugged his thin shoulders. He glanced around the room. + +“This place has been searched thoroughly, and more than once. There +are no traces of anyone having hidden under the bed.” + +“How about the hollow in the nap of the rug where a finger-tip pressed +down the match?” + +“Maybe. It’s fluffed out now. I can only say that there isn’t the +slightest evidence that a crime was committed or attempted. So it +doesn’t seem to concern the police department.” + +Margot regarded him with serious eyes. He was as cold and impersonal +as a fish. + +“Then you are finished with the case?” + +“Not quite. Sleep somewhere else to-night. I’ll leave Quinlan to watch +this room. If there’s nothing to report by to-morrow, we’ll be +through.” + +Hart left, and Boyle, heaving a great sigh of relief, went with him. +Margot asked Quinlan to wait downstairs for a half hour, as she had +something to talk over with her friend. She went down with the +policeman and asked Mrs. Bellew’s permission for him to remain in her +sitting-room. Quinlan’s expression of despair at the prospect of half +an hour of uninterrupted conversation with the landlady was comic. But +Mrs. Bellew smiled happily at the prospect, oblivious of Quinlan’s +unflattering scowl. + +Alone with Gene in the brightly lighted room, Margot threw herself +with a sigh of relief, on the divan. She let him sit beside her, but +she refused even to let him hold her hand. + +“Gene, old dear, my brain’s on the rampage. I haven’t an emotion +to-night capable of sitting up and taking notice of the love-making of +a veritable Valentino.” She laughed and patted his hand. “But I do +need your sympathy and advice--dreadfully.” + +“I have a vision of you taking my _advice_.” + +“Well--perhaps that isn’t exactly what I mean, but I want to talk +things over with you,--get a few trifles off my mind.” + +She told him of Stoner’s peculiar behavior and comments on hearing of +her ghostly adventure. She repeated laughingly his warnings about +Corinne Delamar, but she omitted his avowals of devotion, and his +anger because she had refused to dine with him that night. It would be +unwise to give Gene any additional reason for suspicion and jealousy +of Stoner. She decided to refrain even from telling Gene of her +conclusions as to the director’s motives for begging her to drop the +matter of the mystery. Gene would be enraged at the bare idea of +Stoner having the impudence to be jealous where Margot was concerned. +And as to his motives,--she had begun to wonder if her conclusions +hadn’t carried her far afield of the truth. That was just what she +wanted to discuss with Gene--Stoner’s _motive_ in being apparently so +upset about her having publicity. + +“Do you know,” she ended her recountal with a fixed stare across the +room; “at times I feel as if there were something queer about +Stoner--something vaguely sinister and disturbing. At other times I +laugh at myself for such an idea, especially when he’s in one of his +boyish, boisterous and entirely simple-minded moods.” + +“What first gave you such an idea about Stoner? He seems to me the +crudest, most obvious type of male.” + +“I guess it’s his eyes--mostly.” Margot’s own eyes looked full of the +enchantment of mystery. “They certainly have a weird expression at +times.” + +“What do you mean by ‘weird’? The way he looks at _you_?” + +She smiled at Gene’s quickly aroused suspicion and resentment. + +“No, it’s nothing personal. That’s the odd thing about it. There are +moments when he looks at me but doesn’t really see me for a second. +And his eyes seem to be saying something that he’s unconscious of +saying and that I can’t understand. It’s happened more than once.” + +Gene’s adoring smile was then a little quizzical. + +“That’s a little trick of yours, Margot, darling, to read things in +eyes that are really quite without expression.” + +“That’s where you’re all wrong, old dear,” she said quickly. “Often +when a person’s eyes look positively blank to others, they tell _me_ +something in total contradiction to what their lips are saying. It’s +most embarrassing at times.” + +“When did you first notice this _weird_ expression in Stoner’s eyes?” +Gene looked as if Stoner as a subject for conversation might be +improved upon. + +“Oh,” she said eagerly, “that reminds me. I’ve never told you about +the day I first went to the Superfilm studio for a job. Maybe after +I’ve told you certain things, you may be clever enough to throw light +on Stoner’s pale eyes.” + +She laughed at Gene’s exclamation of disgust, and began her narrative. + +She told him of her embarrassed entry into the waiting-room of the +casting director, when she had run the gauntlet of rows of feminine +eyes--eyes of the other girls on the same errand as herself, and +waiting in various degrees of irritation and boredom. She laughed in +amused reminiscence. + +“Every head in the room bobbed--including my own. Just a difference in +color and cut. Lipsticks, powder-pads, tiny mirrors--rows of them. And +their poor, pathetic little faces, Gene. Vacuous smiles on carefully +painted lips, and hardened eyes that should have been young and +weren’t. And pair after pair of flesh-colored silk stockings--mine +were tan that day, and I was glad of it. And their attenuated skirts +adjusted modestly an inch or two above the knee. I wanted to scream +with laughter, but suddenly I wanted to cry, they were so pathetic.” + +Gene interrupted her with a quick pressure of her hand. + +“Just like you, Margot. Your sense of humor gets a good fillip out of +something, then suddenly your desire to be helpful comes uppermost.” + +“Oh, it wasn’t that. Don’t sentimentalize about me, Gene. It was only +that I felt that those girls, with their stereotyped prettiness and +vacuous vanity, probably needed work and money, far more than I did. +Then I laughed at myself realizing that they’d stand a better chance +of getting it in that place than I would. Then, my dear, we all got a +shock. Lulu Leinster, with that wonderful little head and body of +hers, walked into the room. _Her_ hair _wasn’t_ bobbed, and it was +glorious, hanging in two huge braids. Primitive hair, hurled at one’s +vision that way, was provocative--almost indecent.” Margot laughed +again, and stroked her own shorn locks. + +“It’s a wonder, with your excessive modesty, that you didn’t depart at +once, leaving Lulu without a competitor.” Gene teased her with his +broad grin. + +“My dear, that’s _just_ what I was on the point of doing, while Sam, +Stoner’s bodyguard, was flinging his questions at her, and she coolly +informed him that she’d been sent by a beauty contest committee in +Texas, she having won the prize. Then, before I knew it, Sam stood in +front of _me_, asking the same fool questions. The next thing I knew, +every girl in the room, except Lulu and me, was marching out, having +been told by Sam that they needn’t wait. He was so suave I wanted to +kick him. And the girls filed out, tossing their heads and clicking +their heels, and curling their angry lips. A few minutes later Sam +ushered us into Stoner’s august presence.” + +Margot interrupted her story to let Gene light a cigarette for her. +She took a few abstracted puffs, the smoke winding slowly upward from +her parted lips, then she told Gene how the director stood by his +desk, frowning at the two girls as they entered his sanctum. How he +then sat before his desk and addressed himself first to Lulu, asking +her name and address. How he disposed of Lulu and turned to Margot +with the same questions. Margot’s eyes darkened with excitement as she +stressed this part of her narrative. + +“I gave him my name, then my address. The minute I said 809 East +Forty-ninth Street, Stoner’s head jerked up, and his light blue eyes +looked straight into mine. He repeated the number of the house--not +the street--and his face was impassive, but suddenly I noticed his +eyes. The pupil dilated, and a sort of yellowish shadow darkened the +iris. I caught a strange shimmer in the eyeball, like dust specks seen +in a sunbeam. Of course I may have imagined it all, but that was the +very first time when I seemed to dread something in his eyes that +confused and mystified me.” + +Gene studied her reflectively. “What did he say after that?” + +“Oh, he looked down at his desk, then up again at me, quickly, then he +remarked that I must have one foot in the East River. His eyes were as +blank as pale blue eyes can be, even in an intelligent head. I told +him that it was an easy step down, but not quite over. Then he stood +up and calmly told us that they only needed one more girl and that he +couldn’t decide which of us would screen the best without a test. He +told us to come back the following day. And oh, Gene, I never told you +what Lulu said to me.” Margot chuckled in gleeful remembrance. “When +we parted in New York she announced that she’d probably not see me +again. For a second I didn’t get it. I looked my surprise, then she +said: ‘Why--er--you ain’t going back there to-morrow?’ Then I +understood, and I asked her why not. She got a bit rattled and said +that she didn’t suppose I’d want to go to the bother. I smiled and +remarked that it wouldn’t be any more bother for me than for her. She +had the grace to stumble as she said: ‘Maybe my funny face is more +what they want than yours.’ I remarked that that fine point remained +to be proved, and that perhaps we’d _both_ be chosen and become rival +stars. Poor little Lulu is short on humor. She didn’t see the joke. +Anyway, we met in the studio next day, and now, my dear Gene, I’ve +come to the really interesting part of my story.” + +“Tell me first, Margot, if you got the impression from the way Stoner +looked at you, that he admired you personally?” + +“Oh,” Margot shrugged indifferently. “I don’t suppose he regarded me +as a piece of bric-a-brac, but what I mean had nothing to do with me +as a woman or an actress. Of course the impression faded and I felt, +afterwards, that I’d been over psychic or suspicious, as usual. But +that night the impression returned stronger than before. It even made +me hesitate about going back.” + +Margot told of being escorted by Sam--together with Lulu--to the stage +where a close-up of some scene was being registered. Margot had seen +interest flash in Stoner’s eyes when he saw the two girls waiting to +be noticed by him. He had chucked Lulu under the chin but had +refrained from a like playful greeting with Margot after one glance +into her eyes. + +He had again asked her name, then he had said: + +“So you live on Forty-ninth Street, in one of those ramshackle houses +built before the flood? What did you say the number was?” + +Margot had told him. + +“What floor do you live on?” + +“For a second,” said Margot, “I thought he meant to be impudent, but I +decided he meant nothing offensive, so I told him that I lived on the +first floor. Then he asked if my room was front or back. I had another +impulse to glare at him, but instead, I said politely that I had the +large room in the rear, and added that he seemed to know the house. It +was then that I thought I caught that queer glint in his eyes again, +and a slight challenge in his glance. He said indifferently that a +friend of his had lived in this house and that he hadn’t seen it for +years. He remarked that I must find the place uncomfortable and +inconvenient. I told him I didn’t. Then he announced that he would +make a test of Lulu first.” + +The two girls had been directed to put on make-up, and when they had +appeared properly mascaraed and powdered, he had indicated a place for +Lulu to stand. He had told her, with a good-natured grin, to think +hard of her “sweetie,” and to imagine she was meeting him by the light +of the moon, and that he was going to take her in his arms and hug +her. Lulu had smiled in full understanding and self-assurance and had +proceeded to spoil her beauty by a forced and absurd expression of +rapturous parted lips. Stoner had groaned. + +“Oh, Lord, that won’t do! Think again, not so hard, maybe. Relax! Try +to feel what you’d really feel if the fellow you love stood right in +my boots!” Stoner had laughed boisterously at his little joke. + +That time Lulu had done much better. Margot, watching her, had decided +that Lulu had the making of a good movie actress--above the +average--and this impression was followed by the humble assurance that +she would certainly not register as well in this silly test as the +little beauty-contest girl, whose egoism was of so different a +variety. If Stoner had needed two girls, perhaps she could have passed +muster, but not in competition with Lulu. + +“Then,” Margot went on with a laugh, “I heard Stoner calling me. I +remembered what I’d been asked when I was a kid:--which would I +prefer, be a greater fool than I looked, or look a greater fool than I +be. I knew I’d explode if he invoked the figure of an absent lover. +But Stoner isn’t a fool. He took me by surprise by telling me to +imagine that I’d just seen--was still looking at--something that froze +my blood with horror. Somebody run over or murdered. Or, better still, +I must register the emotion that would overcome me if I were alone in +the dark, and suddenly saw something that didn’t belong +there--something spooky, with an agonized face, calling for mercy. +Wasn’t it uncanny, his striking that note of fear and horror, +considering what happened so soon afterwards?” + +“Yes, it was,” agreed Gene quickly. “You don’t need to tell me how you +registered those faked emotions. The results speak for themselves. He +selected _you_ instead of Lulu.” + +Margot leaned forward excitedly, and put her hand on Gene’s arm. + +“That’s just the odd part of the whole performance--something I’ve +never told you before, Gene. As to how I registered, I guess I didn’t +do badly. Either Stoner’s surprising eloquence or the memory of a +ghost story heard years ago, that had made my blood run +cold--literally--or whatever it was, my imagination took fire and I +actually saw before me, for that moment, the thing of horror. Funny, +but I never thought of that odd coincidence until to-day. Well, Lulu +told me afterwards that my eyes dilated, and my lips quivered. In +short I ‘registered,’ and Stoner gave an expression of approval. Then +he looked from Lulu to me, and finally he said: + +“‘You’re all right!’” He shifted his gaze back to Lulu, and said: “‘So +are you, girlie. Damned if I know which of you is the best. Have to +wait and see the proofs. Come back to-morrow morning or stick around +now for a few hours.’” + +“Of course we told him we’d return the next day. Lulu’s rapturous +smile seemed to indicate that she was sure of what the proofs would +show. We started to leave and at the far end of the stage, within a +few feet of the entrance, we heard Stoner’s stentorian call, asking us +to go back a minute. He was whispering to Sam and one of the camera +men. Then he came up to us and said: + +“‘I’ve decided not to wait for those pictures. ’Tisn’t necessary. I +can tell just from looking at you two, which one is the best--the +best, anyway, for _my_ purposes.’” + +“I felt Lulu tremble with excitement. I thought I saw again that faint +glitter in Stoner’s pale eyes. Then, looking at me he said: + +“‘It’s you I want, Miss Anstruther. Come back to-morrow to start work. +The part you’ll get isn’t a small one. It’ll mean work.’” + +Margot told Gene of poor little Lulu’s sobbing disappointment, and of +Stoner’s attempt to console her by advising her not to be soft, and +not to mind, as it was all in the game, and it was a hard, hard world +anyway. He had ended by saying that he had chosen Margot because she +suited the part in the picture, better than Lulu. He had been speaking +to Lulu, but Margot had caught his gaze fixed upon herself. Intuition +told her that he had chosen her for personal reasons. She had +registered fairly well, but so had Lulu, and Lulu was decidedly more +the screen type of beauty, with her fine profile and wonderful hair. + +“You see, Gene,” Margot summed up eagerly, “my first conclusion was +that I’d made a strong appeal to Stoner. Perhaps I saw that much in +his eyes, but there was something else in his eyes. It eluded and +mocked me, but it was there--something that was neither admiration nor +desire. I felt half inclined to refuse his offer, when I heard him +telling Lulu that since she was so unhappy, he’d fix her up. There was +a girl on the lot who needed a rest. He’d give her a vacation on full +pay and Lulu could have her part in _A Toreador’s Love_. Only the part +of a lady’s maid, but if Lulu wanted it--etc., etc. And then he said +to me--while Lulu was washing her face, that he hoped we’d be friends, +and that he hoped I’d let him call on me some evening soon.” + +Margot could not resist a dramatic pause, just to give Gene a chance +to frown in angry indignation. He did not disappoint her. + +“Damn nerve! What did you tell him?” + +“Well, I was on the point of giving him a sharp retort, when he said, +casually: + +“‘What was that number again? 809 East 49th Street?’” + +“Once again I was arrested by the look in his eyes--that strange +yellowish shadow covering the blue of the iris, and the dilating of +the pupil. That’s all, Gene, but I’d like to know what you make of +it?” + +Gene looked puzzled and uncertain. “You mean--why he chose you instead +of Lulu Leinster?” + +“Yes, of course, that’s what I mean.” + +“Search _me_, Margot. You make it all sound very mysterious, and you +draw a picture of old fat Stoner that’s far more interesting and +thrilling than anything he can ever hope to be in the flesh.” + +“Perhaps you think my imagination’s gone wild along with my brain. No, +old dear. Just think hard, a minute. Don’t you honestly think it +rather strange--in all the circumstances--that he should have chosen +me? And remember all I’ve told you about his eyes, especially in +connection with my living in this house!” + +Gene threw back his head with a jerk of sudden astonishment. + +“You think Stoner’s connected in some way--in the past--with this +house--with what’s happened here?” Gene’s blue eyes were troubled and +mystified. + +“Well,” said Margot slowly, “I’m not _sure_ of anything, and it’s too +soon to draw any definite conclusions about Stoner or anything else, +but I do feel that in some way that I can’t fathom, Stoner has a +personal reason for wanting me to drop the investigation of my little +mystery.” + +Gene pondered that a moment, then he said abruptly: + +“Can’t get it at all, Margot. I’m convinced that all those weird +expressions you’ve been seeing in Stoner’s eyes, can be boiled down to +just one thing--his mad admiration for you, my dear girl.” + +Margot jumped to her feet, and seized Gene’s hand with a laugh. + +“That’s about enough from you for one night, old silly. I’m tired out +anyway, and poor Quinlan’s half hour has stretched out till I dare say +he’s ready to kill me. So off with you, Gene! See you to-morrow, and +here’s hoping you’ll have done some heavy thinking in the meantime!” + +She let him kiss her good-night, then she ran down stairs to tell +Quinlan that he could return to his official duties. + + + + + CHAPTER VI. + THE MIDNIGHT PROWLER + +Margot was to sleep on a cot in Mrs. Bellew’s basement. She made a +rite of brushing her thick reddish hair, and invariably let her mind +wander while she did it. Mrs. Bellew’s chatter had the effect of +dripping water. It made her sleepy, and she was horribly tired. Some +sixth sense told her that sleep was not for her that night; that the +mystery would soon take a new and fantastic turn. + +With bored disgust she discovered that she had forgotten to bring down +her pyjamas. She started for the stairs, then turned back into the +basement room. She told Mrs. Bellew that she didn’t want to go up to +her room alone. No reason whatever, Quinlan being so decent, but she +felt nervous, and would Mrs. Bellew mind going up with her? Mrs. +Bellew cheerfully assured her that she didn’t mind at all. + +They climbed the stairs and knocked lightly on the door. Quinlan let +them in and they stood for a moment with him in the dark. Margot, her +voice instinctively pitched very low, explained her errand. Then she +whispered to Quinlan: + +“Seen or heard anything?” + +“No, Miss.” Quinlan’s was a veritable stage whisper. + +Suddenly he stiffened and threw his arm out to bar Margot’s way, as +she started in the direction of her closet. + +“Shh!” he admonished tensely. + +Margot stood stock still, as she heard Mrs. Bellew’s stifled cry of +fear. They heard a faint scraping sound. It seemed to come from the +roof-garden, the door leading to which was open a few inches. Quinlan +had left it so. Then, the shadow of a human being fell slantwise on +the curtain over the door, and loomed large against the rift of light +from the street lamp. Faint creaking of the door pushing inward; a +figure, indistinct, crouching uncertainly; then upright, stepping more +boldly into the room, and moving slowly toward them. + +Mrs. Bellew’s terror broke in a shriek. Quinlan lunged forward and +seized the intruder. Margot dashed for the switch-button in the wall, +and flooded the room with light. + +A girl stood there, her shoulders pinioned from behind by Quinlan’s +big hands; a girl with white, drawn face; a black-browed, sullen young +creature, who uttered no sound of fear or pain. Too astonished to move +or speak, Margot stared. Then another shriek resounded in the room. + +“It’s Stella--Stella Ball!” Mrs. Bellew managed to gasp the words. + +Margot trembled with excitement. Her breath came short. + +“The girl who lived in this room?” + +“Herself--oh, my God!” The landlady was on the verge of frenzied +hysteria. + +Margot swung fiercely about to the girl. + +“Tell us what it all means!” she commanded sternly. + +“I’ll tell you nothing!” The retort was almost vicious in its quick +intensity. + +“We’ll make you talk quick enough,” growled Quinlan. + +“I haven’t committed any crime.” She made the assertion unwhiningly. +“You can’t do anything to me!” + +“I arrest you for unlawful entry, with intent to commit a burglary. +Guess that’ll do for the present.” + +The girl’s lips clamped stubbornly. There was a touch of pride in her +defiance. Margot was conscious of it, and sudden pity gave her the +impulse to ask Quinlan to release the girl. Her connection with the +mystery seemed remote indeed, if not highly improbable. Her coming was +merely coincidental. Then---- + +Margot’s glance fell to the girl’s right arm. The grip of Quinlan’s +fingers had pulled the sleeve up. The arm had been cut off at the +elbow! Margot’s gaping eyes saw the scar of a freshly healed wound. It +made a grim patch of color against the white of her arm. + +Mrs. Bellew’s frightened eyes went from Stella Ball’s blanched face to +the stub of her right arm. A horrified, fixed stare, then a third +shriek from the landlady. “My God! She had both arms when she left +this house!” + +Stella’s thin little face lost its expressionless rigidity. She +smiled; a strange, twisted ghost of a smile, on one side of her mouth, +yet it had humor, that smile, humor wasted of course on Mrs. Bellew, +but startling to Margot. + +“Hell of a lot you know how I looked when I left your shanty. Didn’t +happen to see me light out, did you?” + +Mrs. Bellew was too far overcome with nervous excitement to have any +other emotion, so she did not resent the girl’s impudence. Margot, +watching intently, saw the smile on Stella’s face vanish as quickly as +it had appeared. Her face hardened again, her lips grew tight with a +bitterness in tragic contrast to the youth of her face, as she looked +at the lurid scar which had riveted Margot’s attention. Then she gave +an angry hitch to her right shoulder, twisting her sleeve out of +Quinlan’s grip, so that it fell over and covered her disfigured arm. + +“Let go of her, please, Mr. Quinlan!” Margot’s quick command was +spoken gently enough, but Quinlan removed his hands from Stella’s thin +shoulders. + +Being momentarily deprived of action, Quinlan found release for his +tongue. He stood with arms crossed, regarding the girl with an angry +scowl. + +“Think ye’re smart, don’t ye now, disturbin’ honest folks, and scarin’ +this nice young lady out of a year’s growth and raisin’ hell +generally, just to do a little stealin’ where there ain’t nothin’ to +steal, far as I can make out.” + +The girl flashed a defiant look at him. + +“Who says I came to steal?” + +“_I_ says it, for one!” Quinlan gave her look for look. “Your kind--or +any other kind--don’t come sneakin’ in other people’s windows and +doors, just for their health. They come to get something--that’s what +they come for--or maybe,” he bent a threatening scowl upon her, “maybe +they come to murder somebody.” + +Mrs. Bellew gave a low cry and shuddered closer to Margot. + +“Ain’t you the smart Alec!” Stella’s twisted smile at Quinlan was not +flattering. “Maybe I did come to get something. This used to be my +room. Maybe I came to get something I left behind, when I beat it on +such short notice.” Her smile of mockery went from the policeman to +the landlady. + +“I took all your things down stairs, Stella. I’ll give them to you.” + +“Didn’t have to sneak back to get what belongs to ye. There’s a front +door to this house, if ye know how to use it.” Quinlan’s sarcasm was a +little heavy. He was no match for the girl, Margot thought, amused in +spite of all that the scene evoked and might well signify. + +“Front doors are good ’nough for some people--the kind that wouldn’t +dare come in any other way. ’Fraid for their precious skins, maybe.” + +“Say, look a-here, Miss Smartie! If you’d come back on the level, to +get your belongin’s, why didn’t ye tell this young lady so, when ye +found the room was occupied?” + +“Saa-y!” The girl’s sweeping scorn of Quinlan, was comic. “Hell of a +chance you gave me to tell anybody anything, grabbing me with those +dainty mitts of yours, in the pitch dark, before you saw who or what I +was!” + +“I’m not talkin’ about your little stunt to-night, comin’ in from that +roof, and gettin’ caught red-handed, I might say. I’m talkin’ about +night before last when ye honored this young lady with a call and +pretty near frightened her to death.” + +Stella’s eyes opened and stared in a surprise that struck Margot as +strangely genuine. + +“Don’t know what you’re trying to celebrate, Mr. Officer-of-the-Law. +This is the first time I’ve come to this room since I left it when I +was living here. I wasn’t in this room night before last.” + +It was Quinlan’s turn to retaliate with a scorn as scathing as her +own. + +“No, you wasn’t here night before last! Yes, we have no bananas! +I--don’t--_think_!” + +“I wasn’t! Think what you damn please!” A flash of anger quickened the +tired lifelessness of Stella’s blue eyes. + +Quinlan moved a step nearer to her, and thrust his head out at her. + +“You wasn’t hidin’ under that brass bed, for the Lord knows how long +before Miss Anstruther went to bed, and you didn’t stick your hand and +arm out from under the bed and put a burnin’ match out, after the +young lady had switched off her electric light?” + +The surprise in Stella’s eyes changed slowly to astonishment, then +another, more subtle change came to them. Margot, with active brain +and unwavering, watchful gaze, and uncanny power to read back of the +human eye, saw in Stella’s something that she could not analyze, but +something that convinced her as no words could have done, that the +girl was telling the truth and that Quinlan’s remarks had quickened a +wondering speculation in her mind, concerning something of sinister +import to Margot’s mystery. + +“I wasn’t in this room night before last. Take that or leave it! I +should worry!” + +Sudden inspiration came to Quinlan. + +“Then if ye wasn’t here yerself, ye know damn well who _was_ here!” +Intuition or reason, whichever it was, Margot thought, Quinlan was +less “dumb” than he had appeared up to now. + +Stella threw him a startled, questioning look, then her lips grew +sullen and her eyes hard. + +“Let’s get a move on,” she said laconically. “Don’t suppose you want +to entertain me here for the night. Ain’t you just bursting to show me +your hospitality somewheres else?” + +“See here, Miss Stella Ball, if that’s yer name. Suppose ye spill a +little information about the friend of yours that hid under Miss +Anstruther’s bed the other night. Give us the dope--the real dope and +all of it, and we’ll see what we can do about lettin’ ye off with a +minimum sentence, maybe none at all.” + +“I’ve got nothing to say about anything, because I don’t know nothing +about nothing! See?” Stella gave Quinlan another of her twisted +smiles, touched with an ironic humor. + +“Won’t save yerself by squealin’, is that it?” Quinlan’s naturally +good-humored mouth had a more kindly expression. + +“No, that ain’t it!” Her reply was as enigmatic as it was brief and +final. + +They could get nothing more out of her. She remained stubbornly +silent, her face reverting to its original hard blankness. Quinlan +told her she’d have to go with him, arrested on the charge of unlawful +entry. Then he turned to Margot, with the air of being the Heaven-sent +sleuth and unraveler of mysteries which the case had so urgently +required. + +“Guess you can come right back to this room and have a good night’s +sleep, Miss Anstruther. Guess no more spooks is goin’ to disturb your +rest, from now on. There’ll be those as’ll know how to get the truth +out of this girl, to-night or to-morrow. Guess ye’re safe enough now.” + +“Wait a minute, Mr. Quinlan.” Margot addressed the policeman but her +eyes were on Stella Ball. “You seem to be sure that either this girl +or some confederate of hers, was under my bed night before last, and +put out the match I dropped on the rug. But how about the hand and arm +that Boyle saw, when _he_ was alone in this room, putting out a light +that didn’t even exist?” + +Margot saw a quickly suppressed shudder, a swift lifting then closing +of lids over startled blue eyes, then stillness on the impassive face +of Stella Ball. Quinlan saw nothing. He was busy preparing a reply to +Margot’s question. + +“It’s a friend I am of Shane Boyle’s, Miss Anstruther, but it’s only +tellin’ the truth I am, when I say that Boyle bein’ born in the auld +country, and comin’ here when he was full grown, is as full of +superstition as a dog is full of flees. It stands to reason, Miss, +that whoever it was put the match out when you lay in that brass bed, +wasn’t doin’ the self-same thing for Boyle’s benefit, because whoever +it was, got out of this room before ever any of the rest of us set +foot in it. That’s as sure as that I’m standin’ on me two feet this +very minute. So it stands to reason, don’t it, that what Boyle saw, +came out of the square Irish head on him.” + +“Do you think so, Mr. Quinlan?” Again she spoke to Quinlan but looked +at Stella. + +“Sure, I think so. What else could I think?” + +At Margot’s simple question, Stella again lifted heavy lids and +dropped them as quickly. In her tired blue eyes Margot caught a vague +question and challenge directed at herself. Then Quinlan departed with +his prisoner. + + + + + CHAPTER VII. + SPOOKS AND THE PRESS + +Margot and Mrs. Bellew returned to the basement for the night, +locking Margot’s room on the outside. Another sleepless night would +play the mischief with her looks, but Margot found sleep an +impossibility. She wished she could call Gene and tell him what had +happened since he left the house, but she decided to wait until the +following day. + +With tired brain and thoughts spinning around as actively in sleep as +when awake, and far more fatiguingly so, Margot had about three hours +of unconsciousness. Then, as on the previous morning, a hot tub, a +cold shower, setting-up exercises, a little make-up, and she looked, +even if she didn’t feel, as good as new, she decided, after careful +scrutiny of her face. + +She decided to be late to the studio, and move all her belongings from +the room she had occupied, to one which Mrs. Bellew had offered her, +on the floor above. The landlady and her housemaid helped Margot in +the process of moving up the one flight. She said that for the +present, she would take with her only her personal effects. It was +best, she told Mrs. Bellew, to leave the room intact, in case any +further inspection should be deemed advisable by the police +department. Therefore she did not remove her rugs, nor hangings, nor +other articles of room adornment, which belonged to her. She rather +expected to hear further from the police before the morning was over, +she told the landlady. + +About ten o’clock, the plainclothes man Hart arrived, asked Margot a +few superfluous questions, then gave his orders that Margot’s +room--the room of the bodiless hand from under the bed--was to be +turned over to the police department. A man from the Force was to be +left there, day and night, and the key would be kept by the police. +Hart assured Margot that although theft was probably the motive for +the midnight visitation--granted that there had been any such +appearance as she had described--he was sure that criminal intent to +do bodily injury was not involved, and as to anything of a +supernatural nature, that was of course ridiculous. + +It struck Margot as ridiculous that the police should occupy her old +room as a field for research in a case which they insisted was neither +criminal nor supernatural. But she refrained from telling Hart what +she thought about it. + +Before she left the house at one o’clock, already two reporters and +three news photographers had made their unwelcome appearance. It was +evident that the rest of the day would bring other relays of the +inquisitive pests. She was glad to escape, leaving poor, harassed Mrs. +Bellew to do the honors. Of course the garrulous landlady would talk +of things she knew not, and say many things that the newspaper men +would twist to suit themselves, but Margot knew that it mattered very +little what was or was not made public in the way of news regarding +her adventure. The publicity itself was the one inescapable fact. + +The morning papers had had nothing regarding the affair, so there was +as yet no need to dread an encounter with Stoner. She had decided not +to tell Gene, should she meet him at the studio, of Stella Ball’s +unexpected re-appearance, until the evening. + +On her arrival at Astoria, keyed to make excuses for her late arrival, +and to remind Stoner of her fruitless and long hours of waiting the +day before, Margot found that the screening of _A Toreador’s Love_ was +held up for a few days, possibly for a week. Some blunder on the part +of the art director. The set had to be revamped. It was one of the +frequent movie comedies of errors, which they had all learned to take +philosophically. All but Stoner, who was in a condition of blasphemous +wrath. He must indeed be upset, Margot delightedly observed, not even +to notice her late arrival. + +Corinne Delamar darted acid comments through the slats of her +dressing-room on wheels. The minor members of the cast had been told +to get out of the way. The girls she knew crowded around Margot, +asking if she had seen her spook the night before, and if that was why +she was so late at the studio. To all questions she smiled and said +that she believed her ghost was laid, that she had seen nothing weird +the previous night, and that she was late to the studio, merely +because she was tired from her previous adventure. + +As a matter of policy and precaution, she hung around the studio until +late in the afternoon, then disappeared before the other girls were +ready to leave. Gene did not go with her, but in a hurried interview +between them it had been arranged for him to come for her later and +take her out for dinner. + +The first thing she did on arrival in New York, was to buy an evening +paper. The headlines of the early edition greeted her; headlines about +herself; bantering, hateful headlines: + + + _SPOOKS PURSUE FILM BEAUTY-- + ACTRESS AND COP GET GHOSTLY + BURGLAR--MOVIE GIRL REPORTS + ROOM HAUNTED._ + + +Well--she had known what to expect. But at least she could put a check +on the melodramatic absurdity of it all. She wished to goodness she +had stayed at home that day and talked with all the reporters herself. +Trust foolish Mrs. Bellew to make things as absolutely ridiculous as +possible! She hurried home, called up the leading newspapers, and +requested that they send special men to interview her that evening. It +would, she believed, ensure a more rational version of the story, at +least. + +Dining with Gene, she gave him a detailed description of what had +occurred the night before, but she omitted all comment as to her +impressions or deductions. She wasn’t ready yet to go into all that. +Later in the evening, after she had interviewed the newspaper men, she +would take Gene fully into her confidence. + +He disapproved of her remaining in the same house. Why on earth did +she want to do that? he asked her. + +“Well,” she said, with one of her cryptic smiles, “I have my reasons, +old dear. They may be foolish ones, time will tell, but in the +meantime, I’ve made up my mind to stay right in that house of +mystery.” + +“All right, my dear. I always respect the results of your mental +processes, but sometimes the processes themselves leave me in the +air.” + +“A very comfortable place for the present, Gene. You may wish you’d +stayed up in that safe region, before we get through with this thing.” + +“Not unless you were up there with me,” he smiled back at her. + +Later in the evening, after Margot had flattered and flustered and +successfully maneuvered the newspaper men, and had given each one a +cocktail with which to drink to her success as a star in filmdom and +as a detective in her field of mystery, she and Gene settled down in +her new room to a serious talk. + +“As I see it,” she summed up, “this mystery is a perfectly normal one. +It’s my firm belief that it will turn out to be more important to +students of crime than to the Society for Psychical Research. +Moreover, the best detective methods are the only methods that will +solve it.” + +“Meaning--Cornelius Hart and his hot-on-the-trail assistants?” His +smile expressed the scorn he shared with her as regards the +plainclothes man. + +“Absurd bungler, isn’t he? First he laughed at my story, and ridiculed +Boyle. Then he woke up when Stella came on the screen, but he can’t +get a word out of her. She’s much too clever for him. And his +investigations in this house consist of watching for something new to +happen, which isn’t _going_ to happen. The dub isn’t using what brain +he happens to have.” + +“What’s your idea? To go to one of the private agencies and get one of +their men? The trouble is the price, dear. They charge at least twenty +dollars a day.” + +“No, nothing like that.” She laughed and struck her chest with a comic +gesture. “Little one, you see before you the real Sherlock Holmes in +the plot! _I_ am going to apply to the case the expert methods I +referred to. And of course you’re going to help me.” + +“Righto!” He smiled, then grew more serious. “All very fine, Margot, +but for all your cleverness and powers of analysis, I don’t quite see +what you’ve got to go on.” + +“Don’t you! Well, now listen. Get down to bedrock and to essentials. I +saw an apparently unattached arm. The next night Stella Ball sneaked +into my room. Stella Ball has comparatively recently had her right arm +amputated at the elbow. I believe that these three strange, apparently +unrelated facts, are actually, if mysteriously, related.” + +Gene couldn’t control a slight shudder. + +“Isn’t that going back to the spook theory you said you’d rejected? +Surely you don’t mean, Margot, that you think it was a psychic +manifestation of some sort,--the girl sending her arm ahead of her, or +something of that sort? You can’t be serious!” + +“Not that way, no. That’s too absurd! But let me go on. For some +reason the hand I actually saw--for keep in mind that I _did_ see a +hand!--found it important to put out lights on the floor. Stella Ball +had lived in that same room. For all we know, she might, in the past, +have penetrated its secret. Last night she may have come either to +help or to thwart that hand.” + +“What do you mean? In putting out the lights on the rug?” Gene was +making a valiant effort to treat Margot’s theories with the respect +she demanded. + +“Not necessarily. I’m trying to stick to logic. It’s always so easy to +regard a sequence of odd occurrences as mere coincidence. Gene, think +me a fool if you like, but I’m dead sure that the hand had a living +owner. I’m very nearly as sure that Stella and the owner of the hand +were after something in that room of which they both have knowledge.” + +“Oh! Then you don’t think the hand you saw belonged to the girl?” + +“No, I don’t. Of course I have no theory as yet as to _what_ they were +after. The flames on the carpet will probably prove to have a lot to +do with it. So will the fact of Stella being armless.” + +“Gosh!” Gene heaved a sigh of despair. “Frankly, Margot, you’ve got me +out of my depth. Look here! Granted that you and then Boyle saw a +human hand and arm, how do you explain the way it vanished both times? +Wouldn’t it argue a hiding place for the body belonging to the arm?” + +Margot’s face glowed with enthusiasm. She put out an eager hand and +squeezed Gene’s. + +“Bully for you! You’ve struck the nail on the head! Of course, it +argues just that.” + +“But, good Lord, the place has been searched thoroughly. It’s the one +little thing the police have done. You can’t think anything’s been +overlooked?” + +“Naturally I think it. If you’ve ever dropped your collar button, +Gene, you must realize that looking in vain for it twenty times +doesn’t prove that you only imagined you had the collar button.” + +Her sense of humor was indestructible, and Gene smiled, but his own +humor expressed itself with a note of sarcasm. + +“Suppose the intruder might have hidden between the spring and +mattress of your bed?” + +Her merry laugh was incongruous with the sense of mystery that +increased with everything she said. + +“Quinlan took that idea quite seriously, if you remember. Nothing +living or dead could have lived through the pounding he gave the bed +with his nightstick.” + +“Do be serious, dear. How about the fireplace?” + +“Serious! And you make a suggestion like that!” She laughed again. +“Naturally not the fireplace. It’s several feet from the bed. If the +creature could have reached the fireplace without my hearing or seeing +it, then it could have got to the door just as easily.” + +“Oh, I give it up!” Gene lighted a cigarette with the air of seeking +consolation where he could reasonably hope to find it. + +“Well, I don’t--not by a good deal. I don’t _know_ anything. What I’m +really doing, Gene, is to follow the Sherlock Holmes method of +discarding the alternatives that are obviously impossible.” + +He looked at her sharply. “You mean--there remains an alternative--an +escape--which doesn’t strike you as impossible?” + +“Yes.” + +Gene got quickly to his feet. “Come on,” he said eagerly, seizing her +by the hand. “Show it to me!” + +“Go easy, Gene! We mustn’t tamper with a thing. It’s best to direct +the police what to do. But we can take a look, if we can make some +excuse to get that policeman out of the room for a little while. I’m +not keen on taking _him_ into my confidence.” She got up and moved to +the door, still speaking: “You see, the _object_ of Stella’s return to +that room is what I want to----” + +She was interrupted by a sharp rap on the door. Cool as Margot looked +and felt, she gave a slight start, then she stood back to let Gene +open the door. A messenger boy stood there holding out a yellow +envelope, and piping “Telegram!” + +While Gene signed for her, and shut the door after the departing boy, +Margot tore open the message. Then she handed it to Gene. Her gray +eyes looked troubled and her mouth drooped at the corners. + +“What do you make out of this?” + +Gene read it aloud, in a slow, puzzled fashion. + + + “_See me at the studio to-morrow morning without fail._ + + “Corinne Delamar.” + + +“It looks as if what you said Stoner told you about her +high-and-mightiness was correct. She’s probably furious because you’ve +broken into the papers. What other reason could she have for sending +you such a message?” + +“That’s it, of course, but I’ll bet Stoner put her up to it. I had a +feeling when he talked to me, that he was inventing the thing for some +purpose of his own. She isn’t a bad sort, you know. I don’t believe +she’d have dreamed of being jealous of me if someone hadn’t put her up +to it. Well, it can’t be helped. I’ll sleep on it. We’ll have to +postpone our detective work. I must be clear-eyed and clear-brained to +tackle Delamar in the morning.” + +Her good-night kiss to Gene was hardly what his lover’s desire could +be satisfied with. He held her for a moment, whispering of his love +for her, but he knew her well enough to realize that until Margot +should have disposed of Corinne Delamar, and Stoner and a few other +details such as the mystery of the hand and arm, he could expect +little response to his passion. Wisely he let it go at that. + +That night Margot dreamed--a strangely vivid dream--not of Stella +Ball, nor of the mystic hand and arm, nor of Corinne Delamar, still +less of Gene whom she had begun to love. She dreamed (and awoke from +the dream, trembling and longing to cry out, as one feels on awaking +from a nightmare) of Stoner; not Stoner attempting to force his coarse +passion upon her; not Stoner enraged at her for disobeying his orders +to drop all probing into the mystery of her room; but Stoner, looking +at her as he had looked that first day when she had given him her +address, looking at her with pupils dilated, the overtone as of a +yellowish shadow darkening his pale blue eyes; the shimmer in the +eyeball like dust-specks in a sunbeam! + +Wide awake, she shivered and lay thinking for hours… thinking.… + + + + + CHAPTER VIII. + THE CLAWS OF JEALOUSY + +Margot arrived at Astoria at about ten o’clock on the following +morning. She raised clear eyes to the zenith, praising, whatever it +was she was accustomed to praise deep in her soul, that the sky in its +blue immensity was there above her, promising unseen glorious things +beyond her ken. Mere joy of living made her face sparkle in response +to the sparkle of the sun, and she took in deep breaths of tingling +air, which quickened the flow of blood in her young body, and brought +a brighter color to her cheeks. + +Probably the one precious gift of the gods which should have meant +more to her than beauty or vigor or quick wits, was the one on which +she placed the least value, taking it for granted, as those who are +very young invariably regard the short-lived possession of _youth_. In +spite of three successive sleepless nights, much excitement and +considerable nerve strain, youth had refreshed itself from unguessed +sources. No one would have imagined, to look at Margot, that she had +anything more weighty to consider than whatever immediate and trivial +objective might lie before her. + +Nevertheless she was conscious of an increasing annoyance as she +approached the studio. The impertinence of Corinne Delamar’s +imperative dispatch, created an irritation which was close to angry +indignation by the time she entered the big edifice. A sudden decision +not to appear too hasty in her response to the star’s command, made +her take a roundabout way to the dressing-room which she shared with +other girls. + +A confusion of props and other scenic paraphernalia, stood about near +the stairway leading up to the girls’ dressing-room. The place seemed +momentarily deserted. She heard hammering and voices over at the end +of the vast stage, but at the end near the stairway there appeared to +be no one. + +With one foot on the bottom step, she heard a slight sound that +arrested her. Deliberately she stood still and listened. The sound +referred to was the use of her own name in the voice of Miss Delamar, +and the voice came from the other side of a large piece of scenery +which completely cut off the view of the stairs. Margot had no idea +what Corinne had said about her; she heard only her name, but +forthwith she determined to know what further the star intended to say +about her. The old saying about listeners, might well apply in this +case, but Margot felt that in all the circumstances--and the fact that +she felt an instinctive mistrust of Stoner--she was justified in using +whatever self-defensive weapons chance might offer her. + +Then she heard a man’s voice--in a second she recognized it as +Stoner’s--saying: + +“Don’t let her put anything over on you. She’ll have her own story to +tell, of course, but just you stick to the main fact--the only one +that cuts any ice with you--that being that she’s got herself in the +limelight just when you need all you can damn well get for yourself.” + +“What do you want me to say to her? The harm’s done. She’s been +headlined in all the papers. That _can’t_ be undone.” Corinne sounded +a little querulous. + +“You can raise merry hell with her, can’t you? Make her sorry she +didn’t put the lid on tight to this idiotic mystery stuff, as I warned +her to. Make her sorry she’s alive, if you have to. Sorry so far as +her job here is concerned, or any other job in pictures. Between us we +could queer her with any other company.” Stoner’s voice was rasping +with irritability. + +A slight pause, then Corinne said: + +“You’ve got a bee in my bonnet and you’re determined to make it keep +on buzzing. If you hadn’t put it into my head, I’d never have thought +that Margot Anstruther having a mysterious adventure which has got +into the papers, could have a thing to do with _my_ getting press +publicity. As a matter of fact, why haven’t you seen to it yourself, +Fred?” + +“Good Lord, I’ve done every damn thing I can to push you, my dear +girl, and you know it.” + +Strangely familiar words, Margot thought with a smile. + +“I’ll tell you flat what I _do_ know!” Corinne’s rather light voice +vibrated with sudden feeling. “You’re more interested in that girl +than you’re willing to admit. Don’t think me a fool, my dear Fred. +Both my eyes and ears are normal, and I’ve seen and heard things.” + +Margot heard Stoner’s low laugh of amused contempt. + +“Oh, you women! The girl’s got talent of course, and the artist I +flatter myself I am, recognized it and made use of it. Why not, will +you tell me? All women have to be flattered to get good results, +whether it’s work or play.” His laugh was teasing, patronizing. “But +as to my feeling any deeply _personal_ interest in Miss Anstruther, +why you’re a fool to imagine it for a moment.” + +“Of course, my dear Fred, don’t get away with the idea that I would +make any fuss or try to force an issue with you, where there isn’t +one. I mean this. It’s been no question of marriage between you and +me. I’d bow to the woman who could inspire you to want to get married. +But--and it’s a big one--I’ll not stand for your having an affair with +Margot Anstruther or any other girl, and let things go on as before +between you and me, no matter how much I happen to be indebted to you +for being a star so early in the game.” + +“Laying down the law, is that it, my dear?” + +“Yes, that’s precisely it. If you can get that girl to take my place +to your complete satisfaction--in or out of marriage--why go to it, +old dear, but count me out--not only of your personal life but out of +your picture.” + +“You’re not such a fool as to threaten to quit work on this picture in +the middle of it, just out of jealous spite over another woman?” He +had raised his voice and it vibrated angrily. + +“No, you big nut, I don’t mean that. I’m not going to cut off my nose +to spite my face just out of jealousy, but I’ll do it in a jiffy if +there’s real foundation for that jealousy.” + +“You mean, if you found out that I’m interested in Margot +Anstruther--let’s say, for the sake of argument, in love with +her--you’d leave me and my big picture high and dry, and I’d have to +begin the thing all over again with another actress?” + +“Exactly!” Corinne’s voice was crisp and cool. “And I have a sweet +picture, dear Freddie, of what you’d hear from the Superfilm +production manager when he would find out that your infatuation for a +new girl cost the company thousands of dollars.” + +“You little devil!” There was nothing jocular in the remark. “Well, +now listen to _me_! If I really cared a damn about this girl Margot, +I’d see you or any other woman in Jericho, before I’d be threatened or +dictated to. But if it’ll smooth your feathers to know the truth, here +it is, little one. Personally, Margot means nothing to me. I’m +interested in her work, and I’ve got a certain curiosity about this +mystery story of hers. Detective stuff _always_ interests me. So if +you see me talking to her, you can be sure it’s either about work in +the studio or about her ghosts. But as to this publicity stunt, we’ve +got to choke it off, and I depend on you, Corinne, to do what you can +with her. Give her a scare, and see what _that’ll_ do.” + +The tone of finality in Stoner’s long-winded speech, made Margot run +lightly away from the staircase. The interview between Corinne and +Stoner was probably ended, and the quicker Margot got out of the +danger zone, the better. She hurried back to the front entrance, and +came sauntering in, again walking directly to the end of the stage +where work was going on. She had a vague plan to encounter the +director first, see what he might have to say, then go on to the +interview with the star. + +Funny, Stoner telling Corinne that he liked detective mysteries! Just +the opposite of what he’d told Margot. + +Coming around the corner of a chrome yellow plaster wall of a Spanish +farmhouse, she almost ran into Stoner. He stared, then bent over her, +with a surly expression. + +“You would do it, wouldn’t you! You _would_ be written up, in spite of +what I told you!” + +Margot smiled, an enigmatic smile that brought an angry flush to +Stoner’s face. Then she said quietly: + +“Don’t you think that the initiative was taken out of my hands by the +arrival upon the scene of the mysterious girl, Stella Ball?” + +“That’s got nothing to do with what I mean, Miss Anstruther. You gave +interviews to the reporters, didn’t you?” + +“Naturally. They got hold of the story from the police, and they +published a lot of bunk that I went to some pains to contradict. +You’ll find a much more sane story in to-day’s papers.” + +“Makes it all the worse. If you’d let the whole thing drop as a silly +pipe dream, after that first night, and sent the police packing, +_nothing_ would have got into the papers.” + +“O--h!” Margot opened wide her large gray eyes. “You wish I’d taken +possession of my room as if nothing had happened, and been all alone +to receive and entertain Stella Ball on her informal visit to my +quarters?” + +“How could _she_ have hurt you, a thin little thing like that?” + +“Thin little thing, like that,” Margot repeated, staring at him. + +For a second something flashed in his eyes, or she imagined it, then +he frowned and said testily: + +“Well, that’s the way the papers described her, wasn’t it?” + +“Oh--yes, of course, I forgot!” + +Surely her thoughts were taking erratic twists and turns. Why had she +been struck by an undefined familiarity with the appearance of the +girl Stella, in Stoner’s casual comment? A vague impression, going as +quickly as it had come, and leaving her with the sense of being +somehow a trifle foolish. + +“Can’t see,” Stoner went on with the argument, “what there’d have been +particularly scary about having a girl sneak thief come into your +room. You don’t strike me as a coward, Margot. Probably the girl would +have been more scared of you than you of her.” + +Margot laughed. Stoner was unconsciously amusing. + +“You certainly have it all doped out what I should have done, Mr. +Stoner, under any and all circumstances. But what I did is done, and I +can’t see why all this fuss about it now.” + +“You can’t, eh!” He grew threatening. His anger was evidently not far +beneath the surface. “Well, you say that to Miss Delamar. She’s wild. +She’s all primed to give you a good calling down.” + +Margot studied him with a deliberately judicious stare. + +“Are you _quite_ sure, Mr. Stoner, that Miss Delamar is as wild as all +that?” + +“Am I quite sure! Say, how do you get that way?” He seemed to become +slangy in proportion as he grew angry or amorously familiar. “Go on in +and see her, and find out for yourself just how wild she is. She’s +likely to tell you you’re fired.” + +She felt that he had over-reached himself, and she took quick +advantage. + +“Oh, really! I thought that no one but you had the power to engage or +discharge members of this cast. But if it’s in Miss Delamar’s province +to do what you hint that she may do, why I’ll save her and myself the +boredom of an interview. I can tender my resignation right here and +now.” + +“Oh, come on!” He hadn’t expected her to call his bluff, and she +almost grinned into his blustering countenance. “Don’t take a fellow +up so sharp. Don’t be so literal. What I was going to say is this: No +matter how mad she is or what she says, I can calm her down +afterwards. But you’ll have to meet me half way. I’m not going to let +myself in for a scrap with Corinne Delamar, unless you promise me two +things.” + +Sheer curiosity to see to what lengths Stoner could conceivably go, +made Margot say with a faint smile: + +“_Two_ things! What are they, Mr. Stoner?” + +“First, cut loose from this haunted house bunk. It’s going to do you +and all of us harm if you persist in being connected with it. I’d like +to have you forget the thing ever happened.” His words were spoken +calmly enough, but she noted a slight twitching of his face. + +Certainly the man was nervous. Probably he drank and smoked too much. +Most persons did. + +“I might possibly be persuaded to buy the security of my job in your +picture at that price, although I’d lose a lot of fun.” Her levity +brought no smile to his lips. Then she said: “And what is the other +condition?” + +“Well, I suppose you’ll think I’ve got my nerve, but I want you to let +me be your friend, and see you often. I’m not asking to make love to +you--though God knows I’m crazy about you, Margot--but at least give +me the chance to help you as I can’t while you’re running around with +Valery.” + +This last offer of selfish patronage of her career was more bald than +previous offers or hints had been, but why let it anger her, she +wisely concluded, giving a non-committal smile. + +“You’re very kind, Mr. Stoner. I’ll give the matter thought when I +have more time, and not so many absorbing things to think about. Then +I’ll let you know what I decide to do.” + +Her delicate irony did not altogether miss its mark. He scowled +heavily, but apparently could think of no effective retort, so he +stood with shoulders thrown back, and head in air, as she walked off +and left him. + +A negro maid edged out of the narrow compartment as Margot entered +Corinne’s dressing room. The star was sitting in a wicker chair beside +a table strewn with cosmetics. A disproportionately large mirror hung +above the table, flanked by hooks on which were draped a variety of +startlingly gaudy Spanish bolero-jackets and shawls. There seemed to +be no place for a visitor to sit, so Margot stood, in graceful and +well-bred disregard of having to stand. + +Corinne was certainly beautiful, Margot thought, looking down at her. +Margot was always generous in her enthusiasm over another woman’s +beauty or charm. The star might be somewhat over thirty, but her +strange gold-colored eyes, her ivory-palid cheeks and throat, and her +fierce red pouting lips, had all the splendor of early youth. + +For an appreciable moment, Corinne did not even turn her head. Then +she twisted slowly around in her chair, and looked up at Margot out of +narrowed eyes. Her voice was modulated to the velvet softness of the +woman whose pose is to appear better bred than she is. + +“Miss Anstruther,” she began softly, “I understand that this wild +story about you in the papers is the result of a play for publicity. +Doesn’t it strike you as taking an unpardonable liberty, while you +have a part supporting me?” At least she had gone directly to the +point. + +“Who has given you to understand such a thing, Miss Delamar? It’s Mr. +Stoner, isn’t it?” + +“Yes. What of it?” Corinne’s voice was a trifle less suave. + +Of a sudden, and most unexpectedly, Margot wanted intensely to +convince Corinne, even to propitiate her, not at all for professional +reasons, but because of some deep and mysterious urge to make a friend +of the young woman, whose antagonism she had so unwittingly aroused. A +swift decision came to her. She would tell the star her so-called +ghost story, from beginning to end, or rather to the point it had +reached. She would offer neither explanations nor excuses, she would +stick to narrative and description of the persons in her little drama. + +“Miss Delamar,” she began gently, “will you be kind enough to let me +tell you frankly just what has happened? I’m sorry if I’ve done +anything to annoy you, but I’d really like you to know the facts at +first hand.” + +Corinne stared at her intently, then she said, pulling out a stool +from under the table: + +“Please sit down. I’m sorry I haven’t a comfortable chair. I’ll be +glad to hear what you have to say, Miss Anstruther.” + +Margot’s shrewd and watchful eyes did not miss the brightening of +Corinne’s eyes, or the eager play of her lips, as she listened to the +odd and arresting tale. She had held the star’s interest and she had +won her trust, at least, so far as her mysterious adventure was +concerned. + +“You certainly put the whole thing in a different light, Miss +Anstruther. I’ll talk to you again later in the week. I want to think +over the matter.” + +Margot could not restrain the impulse that made her bend over, with an +eager smile, as she stood up to go, and say: + +“Please do your own thinking, unassisted by Mr. Stoner. For some +reason he’s determined to put me in the wrong in this matter and make +me drop the investigation. I don’t know what it’s all about, but I +can’t see why he’s so keen about it.” + +At her first words, Corinne’s eyes flashed angrily, but it became +clear to her that Margot meant no personal offense, and she nodded a +good-by with the first amiable smile that she had ever conferred upon +Margot. + +On the trip back to town, Margot felt suddenly tired and depressed. +Such a fuss and bother and so much confusion to face in the immediate +future. She hated rows. She hated having people dislike her or suspect +her of mean motives. A sudden overwhelming yearning rushed over her, +for the mother who had died when she was sixteen. She had loved her +mother, and she had needed her always, but the years in their swift +passing, had made her more self-reliant and less given to lonely +meditation. + +With a return to her normal cheerfulness, Margot put her key in the +lock of the front door, and ran up to her room. Gene, the dear boy, +was coming to take her to dinner. Her glance fell on a yellow telegram +on the table. She ran to it, tore it open and read: + + + _Terribly sorry. Can’t come for dinner. Stoner requires that I work in + the studio to-night. Been transferred to another unit. See you + to-morrow night without fail._ + + Gene. + + +Now, what in creation did that mean! It was most unusual to transfer a +camera man to another unit, in the middle of a picture. Of course it +was done occasionally, but rarely. Besides, why did Stoner call upon +Gene at such short notice! He seemed to be under her feet at every +turn. + +She had dinner alone, then returned to her room, after a brief but not +to be avoided conversation with Mrs. Bellew, on the subject of +reporters and other kindred matters. Margot had some mending to do, +and it struck her with ironic force, that, in the midst of so much +mental confusion, she should be sitting alone in the so-called +“haunted” house, mending her stockings. + +About a half hour later a tap sounded on her door. Wondering if it +could be Gene, after all, or another message from him, she opened her +door. On the threshold stood Stoner, the landlady vaguely and +apologetically in the dim background of the hall. + + + + + CHAPTER IX. + HIDDEN MOTIVES + +Frederick Stoner stood on the doorsill, holding hat and stick, and +striving to smile as if his presence on the threshold of Margot’s room +was the most natural of all natural happenings. + +In Margot’s gray eyes, surprise changed swiftly to a cold dismissal. +Her aloofness and her obvious disinclination to make the most +perfunctory gesture of welcome, brought the landlady forward from +where she stood in the shadows of the hall. She put a nervous, +apologetic hand on Margot’s arm. + +“The gentleman said that he was a friend of yours, and your boss, out +where you do your play acting. And he said he must see you most +particular to-night. And I saw him when he come to your party, so I +thought it was all right and I brought him up stairs, my dear.” + +“It’s all right, Mrs. Bellew. Wait a minute, please,” she added +hastily seeing the landlady’s gentle movement toward the head of the +stairs. Margot turned steely eyes on Stoner. “What is it you wish to +see me about, Mr. Stoner?” + +He fumbled his hat and he fumbled his reply. + +“Why--er--it’s about--in relation to--this matter of the--the mystery +you’re trying to solve, Margot.” + +“What do you mean? Another warning such as you gave me this morning?” +Her gaze did not waver nor grow less coldly repellent. It was one +thing to use diplomacy with Stoner on his own ground, the studio, but +when he had the impudence to force himself upon her privacy, without +permission or even warning, no diplomacy was required. + +“Not that at all,” he said hastily. “Nothing of that sort, Miss +Anstruther. I’ve taken the liberty of calling on you to tell you of +something that’s occurred to me that may be helpful to you.” + +She frowned, a little puzzled by his manner and his remark. Odd of +Stoner, the aggressive, self-sufficient Stoner, to conduct himself in +so Uriah Heepish a manner. No unbending came to her reception of him. +She stood guard over her threshold with senses alert and watchful. + +“I don’t think I quite understand. Helpful in what way? Just what do +you mean, may I ask?” + +He drew himself up and took a firmer grip of his position. Margot read +in the pursing of his thick lips, his realization that his deference +to her wasn’t getting him anywhere. + +“After seeing you to-day, Margot, I had a brainstorm, I guess you’d +call it. Or call it a hunch, or anything you like. Anyway, something +came into my head, and I couldn’t wait to tell you all about it. I’ve +got an idea it may go far to clear up your mystery.” + +Mrs. Bellew’s shuddering gasp and quick approach to Margot made her +smile. She decided to ask Stoner to come into the room, but the +landlady must come also. + +“Very well, if you’ve something interesting to tell me, Mr. Stoner, +I’m willing to listen to it. Won’t you come in? You also Mrs. Bellew.” +She stood aside to let them enter, but Stoner drew back. + +“Sorry,” he said quickly, “but what I have to say is strictly +confidential.” + +Perhaps it was the terseness of his refusal to talk before Mrs. Bellew +that decided Margot to interview him unchaperoned. If he had +expostulated with excuses or supplications, she would have let him go. +He seemed in earnest, and determined, and her quickly aroused +curiosity where he was concerned, decided her to dismiss Mrs. Bellew. +She turned to the eager dame with a kindly smile. + +“I’m sorry, Mrs. Bellew, but if Mr. Stoner feels that he can’t discuss +the matter except with me, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to let me +withdraw my invitation.” + +With the door closed on the landlady’s retreating figure, Margot +wished for a second that she had refused to receive Stoner alone. +However, what did it matter! What could he do to her anyway! She +indicated a place for the bestowal of his hat and coat, then sat down, +pointing to a chair a few feet from her. The preliminary rites of +asking permission to smoke, and lighting his and her cigarette, left +them at last with the blue haze of smoke and an awkward silence +between them. Then Margot asked him what it was he had thought might +be of significance in the clearing up of her mystery. + +“Well, Margot, by the time I’ve told you what I’ve doped out, I hope +I’ll be able to share honors with you and Mr. Sherlock Holmes. I +didn’t know I had it in me, but from what I’ve heard of the details of +your story, I believe I’ve hit on something that you haven’t even +thought of.” + +“What _is_ it?” She was growing impatient. + +“Just a minute now. I don’t want to make a fool of myself. I’ve got a +theory and I believe it’s workable, but I’m not going to spill it +without having some chance to verify it for my own benefit. Of course +I’ve read the stuff in the papers, but I want to see the room for +myself, and make certain observations before telling you what I +think.” + +Margot’s reasoning powers and sense of justice told her that either +she must dismiss Stoner and his theories forthwith, or, if curious to +learn what his theory was, and willing to believe in his sincerity in +the matter, then she must let him do what he suggested doing, for +obviously one couldn’t be sure of a theory holding water if it was +built on hearsay and second-hand descriptions. It would do no harm to +show him the room, in any case. The policeman on guard wouldn’t care +whom she brought. So she told Stoner that she would show him the room, +but that he would have to make his inspection in the presence of the +policeman. + +They went to the floor below, knocked and were admitted by one of the +men who alternated with Quinlan and Boyle. The room was dimly lighted. +Evidently it had been decided not to keep guard in the darkness, at +least during what the Irishman called the “shank of the evening.” + +Margot watched Stoner throw a swift, appraising look over the room. He +turned to her saying: + +“You’ve left all your own things down here, haven’t you?” + +“Everything but my personal effects. It seemed best that way.” + +Stoner addressed the cop with genial familiarity. + +“Mind if I give this place the once over? Here, have one?” He gave the +cop a fat cigar. “I’ll have a squint behind the bed first off the bat, +I guess.” + +Margot couldn’t repress a smile of vast amusement, seeing the heavy +bulk that was Stoner, get down on all fours and look under the bed. He +got to his feet and pulled out the brass bed. Then again he got down +on the floor, looked at the walls and along the baseboard. He had the +air of doing all this as a matter of form, because all the rest had +done the same thing. He turned to Margot with a wave of his arm at the +bed, then said, as he pushed the bed back in place: + +“Just eliminating. Have to look at every detail of course, the way the +rest of the Sherlocks have been doing. Now for something more to the +point.” + +He walked to the door leading to the roof-garden, then walked back to +the bed, slowly pacing off the distance. Then he returned to the door, +opened it and went out on the roof. Margot could see him gazing at the +houses across the way, whose rear windows could be seen with curtains +drawn back and bright lights shining. He re-entered the room and went +to the window, looked out, then squatted down as he was accustomed to +do when looking from certain angles at scenes he was about to have +shot. He peered through his hands at the bed and at the floor beside +the bed, and again he looked out of the window. + +By that time the policeman was gaping in sheer astonishment at the +antics of this strange man. Margot, not in the least impressed but +wondering what Stoner was getting at, waited in silence. Then he +walked to the bed and stood looking down at the rug. + +“Show me exactly where you saw that light--where you saw the hand tap +the light out.” + +Margot showed him. + +“Do you sleep with your shade up?” + +“Yes, usually, so it won’t flap with the window open.” + +“When you leaned over the side of the bed to look for the match you +dropped, did you reach your arm over the side a ways before you saw +the hand?” + +Wondering what he had in his mind, but convinced now that he had +something more than an idle curiosity, or a ruse to visit her against +her will, Margot told him that so far as she remembered, she did +stretch out her arm over the side of the bed before she saw the hand. + +“Humph! I thought as much.” He grinned with satisfaction, and gave the +policeman another cigar. “Now, Margot, I’ve got every reason for +feeling sure of my little theory. Come over here a minute.” He walked +to the window, opened it, and pointed across the way. + +“See that house over there, directly in line with this window?” + +“Yes,” said Margot, vaguely, standing behind him. + +He turned, looking back at the bed. + +“See that place on the rug where you saw the light? Right in a line +with this window, isn’t it?” + +Margot nodded, seeing that his comment was correct. A dim suspicion of +what he had in mind, had come to her, and with it a slight quickening +of interest in what more he had to say. + +“Well, go on. What’s the answer?” + +“My dear young lady, not here. In your present abode, if you don’t +mind.” + +Simple and natural of course. No reason why he should air his theory, +good or bad, before the policeman. Again Margot’s reason made it +impossible for her to refuse his request. As the door closed on them, +and he sat once more in her easy chair, he smiled, a long, slow smile +of utter contentment. + +“Don’t keep me in suspense,” she said with a little laugh. + +“Now listen carefully. Anyone standing at the window of that floor in +that house I pointed out to you, could flash a light straight into +your room. With the clever use of a burning-glass, a spot from a +calcium light backed by a reflector could be made to move about and do +queer stunts on that rug where the policeman saw the light. You were +half asleep you said, and it all happened in a jiffy. I’ve seen queer +things done with a mirror.” + +She listened, amazed at the ingenuity of his theory. + +“But the arm and hand. Calcium light and a burning-glass can do a good +deal, but they can’t manufacture hands and arms.” + +“Why, my dear girl, I’m surprised at you. You’re too smart to ask such +a question! You put your arm over the side of the bed, to reach for +the match. Well, it’s so simple it’s funny! The light and the mirror +threw the reflection of your own arm and hand on the rug.” + +“But,” Margot gasped, half convinced. “I _saw_ a hand _tap_ the +match.” + +“Sure you did. You saw your own hand tap that match. Don’t you +understand? You saw an apparently ghostly arm and hand on the floor. +You were scared stiff, and you didn’t know after that _what_ you did +or didn’t do. Automatically you did the very thing you’d started out +to do--put out the match. Of course you thought you saw another hand +do it. Isn’t it clear?” + +Margot almost thought it was, but she wasn’t quite sure. + +“How about the hand and arm seen by Boyle?” + +“Good Lord! That doesn’t need much explaining, seems to me. Case of +superstitious fear. You’d told how _you_ saw the hand, so when the +calcium light flashed again--pleasant little practical joke, by the +way--it stands to reason, doesn’t it, that Boyle imagined the same +thing you saw, even to tapping out the light.” + +The logic of the argument was evident, and the theory as to the +calcium light and the mirror fairly reasonable. Margot felt sure of +that. But deep down in her consciousness was a strange conviction, and +it grew as she listened to Stoner and watched his face. It was the +conviction that his theory was actually false, that Stoner knew it was +false, and that for some reason too obscure to imagine, he was intent +upon convincing her of its validity. The queer sensation of distrust +of the man was stronger than ever before. + +She knew what she must do. She must not let him guess her distrust of +him--foundless as it actually was--nor let him realize that every +instinct she possessed was ranged against the sincerity or +plausibility of his amazing theory. So she smiled sweetly and said: + +“You’re tremendously clever, Mr. Stoner. I’d never have thought of +such a thing in a thousand years. I shall certainly follow up your +theory. It will be easy to find out who lives in that house and in +that apartment, and look into the matter of the calcium light.” + +“Good Lord, you wouldn’t be so foolish. You don’t suppose anyone given +to practical jokes like that is going to admit it. You’d never find +out or prove a thing. My only idea in telling you about it is to help +you eliminate other theories that may lead you into all sorts of +trouble and waste of time.” + +“I see,” she said softly, watching his face through the smoke from her +parted lips, her eyes half closed. “And of course, even if we did +succeed in proving that the lights were a practical joke, and even if +I were convinced that I saw my own hand put out the match, in a moment +of hysteria, that wouldn’t any of it explain the entrance into my room +by way of the roof, of Miss Stella Ball, would it, Mr. Stoner?” + +His thick lips pouted. His eyes glowered at her. + +“You don’t think much of my theory, after all, do you?” + +“Yes,” she said quickly. “I think it’s a marvelous theory, and I think +it ought to be given due consideration. But I think that there are +other things to consider also.” + +“What, for instance?” + +“Well,” she said slowly, “I’ve still got a little theory of my own +about Stella Ball being in some way connected with what I saw.” + +“Ridiculous!” His exclamation was almost savage in its disgust. “What +in the name of God _could_ she have to do with it--a common midnight +marauder--a little sneak thief!” + +“Well, that’s all got to be proved, Mr. Stoner.” + +“Do you mean to say,” he stared at her, “that you persist in going on +with this silly investigation?” + +Quickly she decided to lie to him. + +“Well, perhaps you’re right. Perhaps it would be a waste of time, and +do me harm. Perhaps I’d better take your advice, Mr. Stoner.” + +She hadn’t imagined what her sudden meekness would bring forth. He +sprang to his feet, went toward her with outstretched arms and bent +over her murmuring: + +“You’re a darling. You do care a little for me, don’t you?” + +Margot got to her feet without confusion or haste. She stepped out of +his reach and said quietly: + +“Mr. Stoner, you must really understand that I don’t permit any man to +come to my room alone to make love to me. I let you in because you had +something important to tell me. Now please leave this love business +out of it altogether.” + +For a moment he stood still looking at her. Then he said: + +“Look here, Margot! Is this stuff about being alone in your room, the +truth, or are you stalling because you won’t let me make love to you +here or anywhere else?” + +She hesitated. “Let’s talk about that some other time,” she said +gently. + +“No! You’ll tell me here and now. Valery comes to your room, doesn’t +he! I’m crazy about you, girl. I can’t stand it, I tell you.” + +There was no mistaking the look in his eyes. No matter what he had +come for, nor what his motives might be for elaborating the theory +about the lights, she had now to deal with a man whose passions were +something to be reckoned with. She moved a step farther away from him. +It was an unwise move. Suddenly, and without warning, he sprang across +the space between them, seized her, and crushed her in his big arms. +She struggled, but he was stronger than she, and he pinned her arms to +her sides, and kissed her with furious, pent-up desire; kissed her +mouth, her throat, her shoulder, all the time drawing her over to the +couch against the wall. + +Margot would not scream. It would be a senseless thing to do. With all +her rage and strength she fought him. She tore one hand free and with +all her force struck him across the mouth. The pain of the blow was +nothing, but the fact that she would strike him seemed to change the +current of his passion. He let her go and stood looking at her, wiping +the blood from his cut lips with his handkerchief. + +“Some men,” he said slowly, “like to be hit and even bitten by a woman +when she’s angry. I don’t, not when it’s clear that the woman hasn’t +any use for me. I’m through trying to make love to you, Miss Margot +Anstruther. And I’m through with a few other things too.” + +“You had no right to force your kisses on me,” she said quietly. + +“Let that pass. I’ll give you one more chance. Will you or will you +not, try to like me and promise to marry me later on?” + +“Good Heavens, no!” she said, with so much sincerity that it was like +a dash of cold water in his face. He stared angrily, then he said: + +“Just one thing more. Will you or will you not, drop this damn +foolishness about this mystery stuff?” + +“I will not drop it,” she said with quiet defiance. + +He walked to where he had thrown his hat and coat, and picked them up. +Then he stood glowering at her across the room. + +“That’s all, then. Consider yourself fired from the Superfilm Company. +And Valery will find a notice for himself to-morrow morning. I’m damn +sorry I gave you the job that day, instead of Lulu.” + +“You had your good reasons for that, Mr. Stoner.” Before he could +speak, she added quickly: “Why punish Gene for what I’ve done?” + +“Because I can get at you through him. Also because I’m sick of the +very sight of him. But any time you change your mind about marrying +me, just let me know. You’ll get your job back if you do.” + +With that he stalked out of the room. + +For a long time after Margot put out her light, she lay in the +darkness thinking. Strange and ingenious that theory of Stoner’s, but +far stranger still the motive under the theory. She knew now, she felt +it deeply, that he had some motive, other than his desire to force her +to drop the case. At least--her thoughts grew a little confused as she +grew less wakeful--it wasn’t like that exactly. His motive for +advancing the theory was obviously to make her drop _her_ theories, +and the motive back of that was what she couldn’t fathom. Well--if for +a moment she had been intrigued by Stoner’s theory, even to the point +of taking it seriously, she had swung back to a rational contemplation +of him and his theories. As to her own, they were something to take up +with Gene the next day. Poor Gene! It was a shame. But he’d get a job +with some other company, and so would she. But not till she’d solved +the mystery of the arm that tapped the lighted match--the arm that +most positively was _not_ her own. + +As on the night before, her last waking memory was of those strange, +pale eyes of Stoner’s, looking at her through a mist of hidden thought +and motive and desire. + + + + + CHAPTER X. + A WITNESS FROM THE DEAD + +A long night because of long, long thoughts, then a few hours of +sleep and then waking, to see the sun shining through her window. +Margot wondered, as she examined her face in the two foot mirror, just +how many more sleepless nights she could stand without showing the +effects of it. Well, at least she didn’t have to rush over to the +studio and be irritated by Stoner. It was a shame of course, that she +was the cause of Gene being fired, for Stoner would undoubtedly put as +many spokes in Gene’s wheel as possible. But he already had the +reputation of being a clever camera man, and he’d make another good +connection in spite of Stoner. + +As to herself, Margot worried not at all. She was sorry to leave the +charming “Conchita” to the mercy of some substitute who might not +understand her passionate Latin temperament as well as +she--Margot--understood it, but, oh, what did it all matter! The +reflection of herself as a passionate Spanish girl made Margot grin in +delighted mockery of her own conception. Of course--she had no doubt +about it--she was quite capable of feeling intensely when the right +man and the right hour should come along, but Spanish girls didn’t +have to have the scene so carefully laid. Was it that American women +were really cold, or that Spanish women were less fastidious? As to +dear old Gene, was he the right one, and was she waiting only for the +hour to strike? + +She had reached that point in her reflections, over her coffee and +rolls, in her room, when she was called to the telephone. + +As she heard Gene’s voice over the wire, she wondered if it were a +case of thought transference. That very moment as he was calling her, +she was thinking intently about him. + +“Hello, that you, Margot? Say, there’s the devil to pay out here. I’m +calling from Astoria. I’ve been given the sack and not a reason +offered. And the report out here is that you’ve had the same dirty +deal. Is it true?” + +She told him it was, and asked him to come to her house as soon as +possible; that she had much to tell him, and something for him to do. +His voice sounded more cheerful when he told her that he’d be right +over as quick as he could make train connections. + +When Gene arrived she gave him both hands and reached her face up for +his kiss. He gave it eagerly enough, his eyes glowing with joy at the +sight and touch of her. He tried to take her in his arms, but she held +him back and smiled an entreaty that he be patient with her. + +“We’ve such a lot to talk about, dear, and so much to do. I promise, +Gene, that just as soon as we clear up the mystery of that old room of +mine, I’ll take your love-making seriously, or else--” She hesitated, +striving to be fair and honest with him. + +“Or else you’ll cut out the love-making altogether, is that it, +Margot?” + +“Yes, old dear, that’s what I meant, but don’t get humped about it. +Plenty of other bridges to cross first. Who knows, I may discover that +I’m desperately in love with you, when I get all the débris out of my +mind collected there in the last few days.” + +Her mood was lightening. Gene always cheered her up. Good sign, she +thought, but she refrained from calling his attention to it. Then she +told him of Stoner’s unexpected call the previous evening. Before she +could expatiate on his avowed reason for coming, Gene exploded. + +“So _that_ was his game, keeping me at work in the studio, and +changing me to another unit! I thought it was queer, but I was too +dense to connect it with you, Margot.” + +“No denser than I was. It never occurred to me till after he’d gone. +As a matter of fact, he kept my brain too busy with his remarkable +theories, until just before he left, and _then_ he kept _me_ too +busy.” + +Gene stared at her, uncomprehending. She laughed at his expression, +then she frowned, remembering with an access of disgust, Stoner’s +physical attempt to force her hand. + +“See here, Gene, if he hadn’t fired you I’d not dream of telling you +just what happened last night. But as you’re no longer under his heel +it doesn’t matter _what_ you know. I’ll tell you about my personal +encounter with him first. That’ll clear the deck for the rest of it, +which is really the only interesting thing about last evening.” + +She described Stoner’s attack upon her, his love-making, and his cold +fury when she struck him across the mouth. Gene listened with burning +eyes and twitching lips, striding up and down the room as Margot +talked. + +“So that’s that, and a jolly good riddance so far as I’m concerned. I +was getting awfully fed-up with his overbearing ways. Until recently +I didn’t dislike Stoner. Of course I could never have been fond of +him, but I liked him--rather--until he antagonized me by his attitude +regarding what occurred, and publicity, and all that. He’s interesting +in a queer, mysterious way. He’s got me guessing as to his real +motives for working up his elaborate theory and coming here with it. +There’s _something_ I can’t reach with my mind, although my +imagination plays with it continually.” + +She described to Gene the visit to the “haunted” room, and Stoner’s +antics, which filled the policeman with wondering awe, and made Margot +want to laugh, up to the moment when he explained his theory. + +“And the funny thing about it is that on the surface it sounds +reasonable, and it makes you wonder why you hadn’t thought of it +yourself.” + +“I suppose,” said Gene thoughtfully, “that such a light _could_ be +sent into a dark room, through an uncurtained window. But it seems to +me that unless you’d lost your wits completely, you’d have known the +difference between a small circular dancing light, and the tiny upward +flare of a lighted match.” + +“Of course I would,” she agreed eagerly. “And as to my hand and arm, +really, you know, I’d have to have been utterly mad not to have known +the difference between the shadow of an arm and hand, and the real +thing crawling over the rug.” + +“As a matter of fact, it’s all bunk, that idea of a calcium light and +a burning glass being manipulated so as to throw the shadow of your +arm on to the floor.” Gene’s literal type of mind was more inclined to +eliminate the impossible than to consider the possible. + +“All the same, there are moments when I wonder a little if it’s not +stupid of me to take such a negative attitude. After all, Gene, mighty +strange things happen, and they’re only strange to those who can’t +understand. I don’t know--I’m not dead sure--that a light couldn’t be +thrown just as he described, and work the same odd tricks. If I were +as sure of Stoner himself as I am of my limited knowledge along such +lines, I’d be inclined to accept his theory, at least to prove or +disprove it, with an open mind.” + +“You mean that you think he had a hidden motive for propounding his +theory?” + +“Yes, and besides, he admitted to having given me his theory, +expecting that it would clear up the mystery and cause me to drop +further investigation, or words to that effect. Now, what puzzles me +is whether he wants me to drop the whole thing because of the +publicity, or whether he’s using that reason as a screen to his real +one.” + +“Good Lord! You make him out a man of mystery with a subtle brain. +That’s far-fetched, dear girl. He’s the most obvious person I know. He +probably concocted that ingenious theory with the hope of convincing +you and making you drop the whole thing, but I’ll bet a good deal that +he’s incapable of anything more intricate or sinister than that.” + +“May--be!” Margot puckered her forehead, and her eyes had a far-seeing +expression in their gray depths. + +“Well, let’s drop that man for five minutes, him and his theories.” +Gene sat down with an impatient sigh, and lighted a cigarette with +nervous fingers. “I think it’s about time you gave me the benefit of +your own theories, Margot. I’d be grateful to you if you’d give me +something to think about besides Stoner and his damn nerve coming here +and trying to make love to you. Nice picture before me of his kissing +you against your will!” + +Margot’s sudden laugh brought an angry light to Gene’s somber eyes. +She leaned toward him and put her hand over his with a little pressure +of her fingers, and a smile that strove to express contrition, and +failed. + +“Silly old thing! Where’s your logic, even if you’ve mislaid your +sense of humor. If he’d kissed me _not_ against my will, then you +_would_ have something to groan over. And it’s darn lucky for you, +little one, that you make it _very_ clear that you believe it _was_ +against my will, for if you didn’t, you know what would happen, don’t +you, Gene?” + +“I believe you,” he said sullenly, “but if Stoner and I had to meet +very often, with you between, something would break sooner or later.” + +“Well, don’t worry. I’m through with Stoner, and so are you. Now, as +to my theories. I’ve got something first I want you to do for me. If +you can spare the time I want you to go personally to police +headquarters, and make arrangements for Hart and his crowd to meet +here at five o’clock. Hart hasn’t been here himself for some time. He +scorns the case. But you argue that brilliant sleuth into coming. +Flatter, cajole him. Tell him I want to call his attention to +important new evidence. Make positively sure that he’ll be here +himself!” + +“You’ve actually got something up your sleeve?” + +“If my powers of deduction haven’t failed me--yes.” + +“All right. I’ll have Hart here if I have to blackjack him and hire a +wheelbarrow. And right now, I’m off to look for another job.” He rose +and went toward her, holding out his hands. + +“Oh, Gene, listen.” She was on her feet beside him. “Have you enough +to rub along on for a short time?” + +“Sure I have, but I don’t want to give Stoner the satisfaction of +thinking I can’t land another job as good as or better than the one he +dished me out of, hot off the reel.” + +“Oh, bother Stoner or what he thinks. In the first place, Gene, I may +need every bit of your time in the next few days, and secondly I’ve +got a sort of feeling that you’d better hold off about another job. +It’s just one of my queer hunches, but if you don’t mind very much, +and if you can rub along for a while, I do wish you would--dear.” + +When she said “dear” with precisely that intonation, he would have +agreed to commit murder, and he told her so. + +Margot spent the intervening hours writing letters and getting mental +relaxation in a moving picture house. Nothing, she had found, was +quite to be compared with the average movie for complete lulling of +all the senses, not to mention the brain. + +At a quarter to five Gene came to her room and told her with boyish +glee that he had corralled Hart and the others, and brought them to +the house in a taxi. They had even stopped at the station house of the +district to pick up Quinlan and Boyle. They were all downstairs in her +old room, waiting for her. + +Eager and impulsive, Margot flew to Gene, threw her arms around his +neck and gave him a little hug and a quick kiss on his mouth. No use +to hold her, and prolong the kiss. Like a firefly she was off and +away, running down the stairs while Gene caught his breath and darted +after her. + +Hart stood by the mantelpiece, a sarcastic grin and a stiff bow, his +greeting to Margot. + +“Understand you’ve got something for us that we weren’t bright enough +to find for ourselves, Miss Anstruther.” + +“I believe I have, Mr. Hart.” Her smile was as sweet as her low voice. +“But I’m wondering if you’ll take orders or even suggestions from a +mere woman.” Her sarcasm was on a par with his, so could not fail to +reach him. + +“You mean you’re going to ask us to do certain things?” + +“Well--yes,” she said meditatively, “I rather think I am, if you don’t +mind.” + +“Anything in reason.” + +“There are places I want you to examine.” + +“Places we haven’t already searched?” + +“Yes. You’ll have to get a crowbar.” + +“We shouldn’t wreck this woman’s house, Miss Anstruther.” + +“It won’t be necessary,” she said quietly. + +Hart’s scorn became more obvious, but he sent one of his men to borrow +the implement at a nearby hardware shop. Then Margot, who had remained +silent while the man was out getting the crowbar, pointed to the brass +bed. + +“Please move that aside and turn back the rug. I don’t think you’ll be +disappointed, Mr. Hart.” + +“Trapdoor, eh,” Hart muttered. “That your idea?” + +“Go ahead and look,” she said quickly. + +Hart made no move toward the bed. He stood looking at Margot with +shrewd, quizzical eyes. Then he said: + +“You had a man up here last night, I understand, taking measurements +and giving the place an inspection.” + +“Yes.” Margot’s monosyllable was spoken with a friendly inflection. + +“Private detective?” + +“Oh, dear no!” She could not suppress a smile at thought of Stoner in +the rôle of private detective. + +“What’s the joke?” Hart neither looked nor spoke as if he considered +it one. + +“No joke at all, Mr. Hart.” She became suddenly very grave. “Merely a +casual visitor who had heard what happened to me and wanted to look +over the ground himself. Just curiosity.” + +“My man who was here last night, said that your friend did certain +things and made comments that sounded as if he had some theory about +your ghost. Was it your friend who suggested the trapdoor?” + +“No. He did have a theory, but it followed very different lines.” + +“Well, give us his theory. I’d like to hear it,” Hart spoke a little +brusquely. + +“It’s an entirely personal matter, Mr. Hart, and in my opinion doesn’t +bear on this case at all. At any rate, I’m conceited enough to prefer +my own theory. If nothing comes of it, then we can look into the one +advanced by my caller last night.” + +Hart gave her a long, speculative look, then, without another word, he +told two of his men to push back the brass bed. + +The men pulled out the rug which covered the drab old carpet that +extended to the wall on both sides. Then they ripped at the carpet +where it was tacked down around the edges. In a few minutes they had +bared the planking. A thick layer of dust covered the floor, yet even +through the dust, dark stains were visible. Clearly defined as well, +was a square outline some two feet each way, near the wall where the +head of the bed had been. + +Hart turned abruptly to Margot. + +“Have you known about this all along?” + +“No, I haven’t. I merely reached the conclusion that some such thing +must be there.” Her steady look at him seemed to say that such a +conclusion was too simple and obvious to have evaded any mind trained +to such analysis. + +Hart went down on his knees and began to prod with his fingertips. + +“Seems to be stuffed with some kind of wadding. Looks as if it hadn’t +been touched for months.” Hart spoke without looking up. He was intent +on the discovery they had made. + +“Suppose you open it,” Margot suggested quietly. + +An atmosphere of mystery amounting to horror pervaded the room. Gene +stared from Hart on his knees, to Margot standing erect and watchful. +Quinlan and Boyle frowned fiercely and strove to preserve a stoicism +which made Margot want to laugh, even though she trembled with +excitement. Eager to a point where it was difficult to restrain her +mad desire to find what lay under all that dust and wadding or +whatever it was, nevertheless she felt a cold, shuddering dread of +what they might discover. + +Hart rose to his feet and asked for the crowbar. With the help of one +of his men he drove it down into a crack. They heaved and wrenched, +then with so little final effort that it seemed as if mystery and +horror laughed and mocked their struggles with the crowbar, a trapdoor +lifted and fell over on the floor; an indubitable trapdoor it was. + +For once, Hart lost his superior air of composure. He spoke quickly, +with excited gasps. + +“There’s a big compartment here. Looks as if it’s hollowed from the +central stone support of the house.” + +Margot was on her knees beside him, and Gene was standing over her. + +“Look and see what’s in it,” she commanded. + +Hart reached into the hole and drew out a fire ax, such as hangs +beside a bucket of water in the hallways of public buildings. + +“There’s that,” he muttered, holding the ax up for inspection. + +He reached again into the hole, probed eagerly, then gave a sudden cry +of surprise and loathing. He drew his hand out with a desperate jerk +and dropped a horrifying object on the floor. Margot suppressed a +scream, and Boyle didn’t. His cry was almost a wail as if he had seen +the Banshee in his own country. Gene bent swiftly and drew Margot to +her feet, holding her against him. No one looked at anyone else. There +was something else to look at. + +On the floor, where Hart had dropped it, was the severed and withered +arm of a woman. A desiccated, mummy-like arm. The hand was tightly +clenched. On the upper side it was marred from wrist to knuckles by a +huge burn resembling a chocolate-colored birthmark. + +No one spoke, no one stirred, no one removed his gaze from the object +on the floor--a gaze of horror and utter confusion of thought and +emotion. Margot shuddered and pressed closer to Gene. Then she +whispered to him. The power of reasoning had returned with a flash of +insight. The silence of the room was broken by a low, agonized moan. + +“God have mercy on us all!” It was Shane Boyle, down on his knees in +an attitude of prayerful supplication. “Sure, it’s the ghost of this +arm we’ve been seein’.” + +“The arm it is, I say, of Stella Ball.” Strange that it should have +been the material-minded, slow-witted Quinlan who spoke. + + + + + CHAPTER XI. + WHOSE HAND? + +For a few seconds no one spoke, either to contradict or agree with +Quinlan. And no one stirred or removed his gaze of stunned surprise +and fascinated loathing from the severed arm, with its hand clenched +and disfigured by so unsightly a scar. + +Hart turned a sudden look upon Margot, a look of penetrating +suspicion, that made Gene frown angrily, taking a step forward and +holding firmly to Margot’s arm. Hart’s expression was easy to +interpret, but it was such an unexpected turning of the tables that, +for a second, she could not cope with it. + +“May I inquire, Miss Anstruther, if this is a pleasant little +practical joke you’ve staged for our benefit, with the obvious +intention of keeping yourself in the limelight, or if it’s just the +last act in a comedy you began a few nights ago, from the same +motive?” + +Margot’s face flamed with an intensity of anger she had not supposed +herself capable of. Gene gave a low exclamation of indignant disgust, +and made a threatening movement nearer to Hart. She drew him back and +whispered to him to let her handle Hart. Her breath came short and +fast, as she struggled for self-control. It was too outrageous of the +detective, but why should she care what he thought or said? The facts, +so far as they had gone, would prove themselves, and she felt +thrillingly competent to handle the situation from this point to +whatever climax might be lurking in mystery. The hot flow of blood +receded from her face, leaving her calm and very cool, physically and +mentally. She returned Hart’s exasperating stare with an expression as +mild as it was compelling. + +“Mr. Hart,” she began quietly, “it will probably be impossible, and +certainly it’s quite unnecessary, for me to convince you of anything +which you’ve made up your mind not to believe. To be quite frank, I +honestly do not think that your opinion of me or of my motives will +make any more difference in the conduct of this case, or its ultimate +disposal, than your opinion makes a difference to me personally.” + +Gene squeezed her arm in excited admiration for her spirit and her +clever retort. The other men looked down at the floor, or at the +ceiling or out of the window; anywhere but at Hart. He grew a little +paler, and his mouth twisted with an ugly sneer. Then he seemed to +think better of it, or sudden change came to his mood. His level look +into her eyes was less antagonistic, and his manner conveyed more +respect for the girl who stood so quietly regarding him. + +“You still claim that every word you told Quinlan and Boyle that first +night, and all you said subsequently to me, was absolutely true?” + +“If my word is of any consequence to you, Mr. Hart, yes, I do still +claim just that.” + +“And you knew absolutely nothing about this trapdoor or what I found +down in that hole?” + +“Absolutely nothing, Mr. Hart.” Her quiet statement was more +convincing than an oath. + +“Well,--I’ll be damned!” Hart sounded quite sincere, and more +mystified than Margot had ever hoped to have him admit, even tacitly. + +“Gene, please go downstairs and ask Mrs. Bellew to come up here right +away. And prepare her mind about--that--” she glanced toward what lay +on the floor; “so she won’t get hysterical up here.” + +Gene knew from the sudden darkening and widening of her eyes, that her +keen brain had swiftly adjusted itself to the facts, had seized upon +whatever was concrete, and was intent upon pursuing her deductions +without loss of time. As he went quickly to the door, she turned again +to Hart. + +“Have you any explanation, Mr. Hart?” + +Hart shrugged his thin shoulders, and stared down at the gruesome +object. + +“Not yet,” he said laconically. Then he added a little sulkily. +“You’ve sprung a bit of mysterious dirty work on me, and you can’t +expect me to hand out an explanation till I’ve followed up the clues.” + +“Surely you regard this discovery as part of the investigation, don’t +you? It isn’t a _new_ case.” + +“It’s the first proof I’ve had that there’s anything you could call a +case,” he said doggedly. + +“Well, at least you’ll agree with me that sane persons in a strictly +material world, couldn’t possibly conduct this case on the basis of +its having any element of the supernatural.” + +Little did Hart suspect that Margot was actually, at that moment, +fighting the temptation to let precisely that element creep into her +emotions if not into her reflections. To speak so scornfully to Hart +of things supernatural, was the best way, she felt, to harden her own +mental attitude. + +“I’ve never said or thought that any such foolishness should be taken +seriously for a minute.” Hart was certainly sanely balanced. + +A low murmur from Shane Boyle focussed attention on him. He was +crossing himself, his expression between ecstasy and despair. Margot +exchanged a smile with Hart, then she said: + +“You agree with Quinlan, don’t you, Mr. Hart, that that horrible arm +down there belonged to the girl Stella Ball?” + +“Good God! What next. I’d like to know!” + +“It seems clear enough to me,” she pursued slowly. “In fact, that dead +and mutilated thing is as eloquent as if it were a live thing talking +to me.” + +“So far as I’m concerned, it doesn’t mean a thing, except that a woman +had her arm cut off.” + +“How long ago, could you form any idea?” + +Hart stooped and scrutinized the grim relic. He studied the interior +of the recess in the flooring, as well as he could without putting his +head down into it. He stood up finally and spoke with respect for +Margot’s mystery, for the first time since he had come on the case. + +“That arm hasn’t decayed. As far as I know anything about it, I’d say +it’s because it’s been in that hole close to the main chimney of the +house, which has preserved a very high temperature and kept the hole +dry.” + +Margot followed his deductions with eyes and lips expressing intensity +of interest and the first respect for Hart’s intelligence which he had +so far inspired in her. + +“Sounds absolutely logical,” she said excitedly. “How long has the arm +been in the hole, would you say?” + +“Well, judging by the condition of the flesh, I’d say about three +months.” + +“Good!” She was trembling now from head to foot. “My training in +medical college leads me to agree with you.” She turned at the sound +of the door opening, and swept a quick glance over Mrs. Bellew, whose +eyes were red, her face quivering with nervous fear. Then Margot, +looking from Mrs. Bellew to Hart, and back again to the landlady, said +quietly: + +“Stella Ball disappeared from this room exactly three months ago, +didn’t she, Mrs. Bellew?” + +“Three months--yes, yes, three months,” the poor woman mumbled, almost +beyond speech as her horrified gaze fixed itself on the desiccated +arm. + +“Damn queer coincidence.” Hart seemed to find it difficult to accept +Margot’s deductions. + +“Please, Mr. Hart,” she said impatiently, “just for the sake of +argument, admit that there’s more than a coincidence in this. Just +follow me closely. Admitting that this arm was once a part of Stella +Ball’s body, there’s something else to explain. Up to the date of the +crime--of course there’s been a crime! Just look at the way that arm +was severed from the body! Well, up to that time, or, to put it +differently, up to the time she disappeared, so far as Mrs. Bellew can +tell us, neither of her hands was marked in this extraordinary way. +Isn’t that true, Mrs. Bellew?” Margot put her hand gently on the +woman’s trembling arm, trying to soothe her. + +“No, no, dearie,” Mrs. Bellew’s voice, weak from shock, dropped to a +whisper. “Her hand was just like yours and mine, dearie.” + +Hart stood contemplating the scarred hand. Then he met Margot’s +inquiring eyes. + +“What do you make out of it, Mr. Hart?” she asked courteously. + +“Granting, as you said, for the sake of argument, that the arm and +hand down there belong to the girl Stella, then I’d say that she must +have been fooling with some sort of acid. Poisoned the hand.” + +Margot gave Mrs. Bellew’s arm an encouraging pat, then she went over +and stood looking down at the ugly scar. Suddenly she bent closer. +Someone started to speak and she threw out her hand with a quick +gesture compelling silence. Gene moved closer to her, then he touched +her shoulder and said softly: + +“What is it, Margot?” + +She stood up slowly, her fine eyes bright with the effort of +concentrated thought and sudden inspiration. + +“It’s not an acid burn. I’m sure of that,” she said slowly. + +“How can you be sure without a chemical analysis?” + +In Hart’s limited way he was certainly more intelligent than she had +supposed. + +“You’re right, of course, Mr. Hart, or rather you would be if it +wasn’t for the fact that in my laboratory work I made a special study +for a time, of the effect on skin and flesh of certain acids. Also, I +was much interested in the study of radium burns.” + +She stopped, looking significantly from Hart to the hand on the floor. + +“You don’t mean--you can’t think that’s a radium burn, Margot!” It was +Gene and not Hart who challenged her obvious deduction; Gene, with +wide, astonished eyes staring at her. + +“Yes, Gene, that’s just what I do mean. That’s a radium burn or I know +nothing at all about radium, and I ought to know a good deal about +it,” she asserted calmly. + +Hart seemed nonplussed. He looked helplessly from Margot to the floor, +and finally he said: + +“Most people know something about radium, enough anyway to realize +that it does very queer things. But this does seem a little too queer +even for radium.” + +“Why?” Margot questioned him eagerly. “If you admit or accept all the +other much queerer things about this weird case, I can’t see anything +especially remarkable in Stella Ball having burned her hand with +radium. If you hold it in your hand long enough, it does burn, you +know,” she ended with a smile. + +“Held it in her hand long enough,” he repeated vaguely. “What do you +mean? Held it in her hand before her hand was cut off?” + +A sound that suggested that someone in the room was choking, brought +Hart’s head around with a jerk to where his men were standing, at +rigid attention. But every face was composed to expressionless +immovability, except that if he had looked a little closer, he would +have caught the faintest quiver at the corners of Quinlan’s broad +mouth--Quinlan with his Irish humor up his sleeve. Margot struggled +desperately with a laugh, then she said, with a conciliating smile: + +“Mr. Hart, you’re not Irish, I know, but you’ll have to admit you made +an Irish bull that time. How in the name of glory could the girl have +gotten radium into her hand _after_ it was severed?” + +Hart managed a smile. Not so bad for Hart, Margot thought, watching +him. Then he returned to his subject with a new attack. + +“Aren’t you running a little wild, Miss Anstruther? Radium! Why, +that’s stuff for scientists! How could people living in a rooming +house get hold of any of it?” + +“Such a person might conceivably have stolen it,” she said smoothly. + +Of a sudden Hart’s eyes narrowed and his eyebrows met over his eyes. +He stared ahead of him, at nothing apparently, then he met Margot’s +intense scrutiny. + +“I’ll tell you what you’re thinking, Mr. Hart, for it’s what I’m +thinking myself. You’ve just remembered that a while ago, the Fellowe +Institute lost some radium, a fraction of a gram in weight, but valued +at $75,000. You’re remembering also that every other particle in the +world is accounted for. I happen to know that the police have been +trying for months to find the thief. May I ask if you haven’t had +orders to watch out for him yourself?” + +He stared at her, divided between amazement at what she had said, and +wondering, if slowly dawning, admiration for the girl herself. + +“You’re right, I have been. I suppose there’s some connection, but I +can’t see it.” That he should be willing to concede the logic of any +deduction of hers struck Margot as amusing. + +“This is what I make out of it,” she said, looking from Hart to Gene. +“Of course I know nothing about the theft from the Fellowe Institute, +except what I read in the papers--what I suppose you both read at the +time. But I’ve got this advantage. I’ve been a medical student. +However, it seems to me if you accept my judgment that the burn is +from radium, you ought to feel as if the trail were fairly hot.” + +“Granting that you’re right about the burn, then all I’ve got to say, +Miss Anstruther, is that you’re a clever young woman.” + +The detective’s low bow gave Margot a pleasant little thrill. At last +she had conquered his cynical distrust of her, of her motives, and her +theories. It was a gesture of mental as well as physical obeisance. + +“I suppose the next thing on the cards,” he said, moving toward the +door, “is to grill the girl Stella--I mean in connection with the +Institute job.” + +“Wait a minute!” Margot said eagerly. “Have you a clear idea how a +radium burn is produced, Mr. Hart?” + +“Not exactly.” + +She told him as simply and briefly as possible that radium eternally +dissipates itself in infinitesimal particles. These pass, she +explained, through anything they encounter; steel or stone are no +obstacles to this stream of atoms. At long range, they are harmless to +human tissues, but if the contact is close, they scorch and kill. + +“I get you,” he said, obviously trying to grasp something that eluded +him. + +“Not quite,” she said gently. “But you will in a minute, as soon as +you pry open those withered fingers.” She looked down at the thing on +the floor. + +Hart stared from her to the hand, and Mrs. Bellew and Boyle gave vent +to low groans, and crossed themselves. In silence--a silence that +vibrated with tense excitement--Hart bent down and tried to open the +tightly clenched hand. It had long been rigid, and Margot saw his +shoulders shake with sudden shrinking disgust. Then he bent back the +fingers just enough to draw from the palm a small object which he held +up to the light. It was a metal container about as large as the +capsule in which druggists sell a dose of quinine. + +More dazed than elated, he said doubtfully: + +“Looks like what the Institute’s been trying to find.” + +“That’s exactly what it is,” Margot said excitedly, taking it from him +and examining it. She handed it back to Hart saying: “Better be +careful of it, Mr. Hart!” She smiled at the nervous haste with which +he laid it in an empty ash tray. “Oh, it’s not that bad. You could +hold it for a while without getting burned. What I meant is to be +careful because it’s so precious. And it’s so small it’s easy to +lose.” + +“_Now_, what, Miss Anstruther? I’m inclined to take your orders in +this case from now on.” + +“I should say, now go and get Stella Ball and confront her with this +evidence. This may shock her into telling us her story.” + +“I’ll have her here right after supper,” said Hart. + +“Fine! You’ll find me here, too.” + +Margot smiled at Gene, took Mrs. Bellew gently by the arm, and +together the three of them left the room of mystery. + + + + + CHAPTER XII. + STELLA’S STORY + +A comforting assurance to the nervous and anxious landlady, a +promise to let her be present at the grilling of Stella Ball, later in +the evening, and an impulsive little kiss on the poor woman’s pale +cheek, then Margot led Gene to her room, saying that she had something +to tell him. + +“Gene, I’ve got a little plan, and it includes you, old dear. We’ve +got two hours before Hart brings that girl here. Of course we’ll have +to have a bite to eat. I’m not hungry--too excited--but you must be, +and I ought to eat anyway. _Then_--” She paused with dramatic +suspense. “Then, my dear, we’ll go to see a motion picture!” + +If she had suggested a casual trip to the moon, he couldn’t have +looked at her with more astonishment. + +“A motion picture! I thought you hated them, and of all things +to-night, when you’ve got so much on your mind.” + +“That might be reason enough, seeing that they usually put me to +sleep. Just what I need right now, to rest my nerves.” + +“Oh, all right,” he agreed amiably. + +“But,” she said with a laugh, “that _isn’t_ the reason I want to go to +a picture to-night. I want to go to a very _special_ picture. One that +was directed by Stoner.” + +“What’s the big idea?” Gene was more mystified than before. + +“I’ll tell you later. I missed the first showing of this picture, but +I’ve heard that it contains a curious feature. You know how one idea +gives birth to another, when your mind’s all keyed up? Well, in the +last fifteen minutes, while I’ve been concentrating on what we found +down there in that room, my poor, weak brain’s been literally flooded +with some new and very strange thoughts. Very strange indeed,” she +repeated dreamily. + +“You mean--thoughts connected with Stoner?” + +“Oh, yes,” she said softly, “very much connected with Stoner. Of +course they’re only _thoughts_--they’re too vague yet to be even +speculations, let alone deductions. Just thoughts, but such very +intriguing ones, Gene.” + +“I daresay, when you get ready to, you’ll let me have the benefit of +your precious thoughts.” Gene was just a trifle impatient and she +laughed at him. + +“Hold your horses, old darling. All in good time, I’ll share my +thoughts with you, and perhaps other more important things as well.” +She threw him a provocative smile, but evaded his arms, as he plunged +at her, trying to seize her. + +“_Perhaps_, I said. In the meantime, as I told you before, my brain’s +fairly reeking with mystery. Come on! Let’s go eat!” + +“Just a minute, Margot,” he urged. “Tell me about the picture. What +picture is it? I mean, what’s so curious about it?” + +“I can’t tell you now. I want you to see it and get your own fresh +impression from it, without being influenced by any reflection of +mine.” + +“What the deuce can a picture directed by that boob have to do with +the mystery of Stella Ball, and your room, and the radium! You’re a +funny kid! Well, come. I’m starved, even if I am madly in love, and +almost insane with curiosity.” + +An Italian dinner with red wine served in teacups, made Margot more +irrepressibly tantalizing and irresistibly alluring than usual. The +food was negative, but youth and red wine in a teacup leave the spirit +aloof from such gross material considerations. + +They spent only a half hour in the little restaurant, then walked +quickly over to Eighth Avenue, where they found seats in a small +theater for _The Masque of Life_. It was a photoplay of pretentious +melodrama, verging on the grotesque, which had been completed for the +Superfilm Company, some weeks before. It had had a short +run--unhonored and unsung--on Broadway, and was now making the round +of the smaller houses. + +Through the tiresome opening reels, Margot sat, sleepily content, her +hand held fast in Gene’s. Then, toward the close of the picture, she +aroused to sudden interest, and gave Gene’s hand a violent squeeze. +She whispered something to him, then she sat very still and intent, +watching the action develop along strange lines. + +An inventor was shown at work upon a devilish contraption with which +he planned to destroy New York. Its motive power was to be--_radium_. +The single word was flashed in huge letters across the screen. This +time it was Gene who tightened his clasp on the fingers he held. The +authority of science was acclaimed as the basis for the weird results +obtained by the villain. Certainly there was an uncanny thrill in his +first experiment with his diabolical machine. + +It was shown as functioning at night. A mysterious aura glowed about +it. Rays like forked lightning darted from its entrails. + +“Good Lord!” Gene’s excited whisper was close to Margot’s ear. “I see +your point!” + +“Do you?” she whispered back. “Then work out a theory, but don’t tell +me till later. I want to get a grip on my own ideas first.” + +They sat to the end of the picture, and through a Sennett comedy, +because, as Margot explained, she wanted to sit quietly where she was, +until it was time to return to the house. He told her that he’d +probably explode if she didn’t let him tell her something that he was +as sure of as that he held her hand in his. But she whispered, with a +low laugh, that if exploding would relieve his feelings, she’d hate to +stand in his way. As far as comparing notes was concerned--nothing +doing, she said sternly, until later. + +At eight o’clock they returned to Margot’s house of mystery. In the +hallway they found Cornelius Hart and Quinlan. Between them stood +Stella Ball. Her eyes were dull and sullen, her mouth bitter. A +handcuff was fastened to her left wrist, while the other end dangled +uselessly. + +“You said you wished to speak to this girl, Miss Anstruther,” said +Hart casually. “She’s at your service.” Margot accepted his veiled +remark as a suggestion that she take charge of Stella. + +Evidently Hart had been careful to raise no suspicion in Stella’s mind +that she was to be subjected to a test of any kind. Black-browed and +fierce, her glance swept over the faces of the men, then rested on +Margot’s with defiant scorn. Margot, open-minded at all times, and +generous in her estimates, found it quite natural that this young +thing--potentially a criminal perhaps, but certainly not a coward in +spirit or flesh--should regard a girl of Margot’s class with the +disdain that those who dare much feel for those who are sheltered from +all daring. + +Stella had grown thinner and paler in jail. Her stubborn will seemed +unbroken. Her thin lips parted as if the impulse moved her to protest +against she knew not what. Then her mouth shut stubbornly, and she +gave Hart an ugly look. She promised to be a difficult subject, that +much was sure. Margot tingled at the prospect of the encounter. It +would be even more thrilling than she had anticipated. + +“I’m sure,” she said gently, “that Stella Ball will be able and +willing to help us clear up certain things.” Her tone was +noncommittal, but her penetrating look into the girl’s eyes was +kindly. “I’ll go up ahead,” she said to Hart. “I just want to take a +look around.” + +He understood her intent--to make sure that nothing had been +disturbed--and he, together with the girl, Gene and Quinlan, followed +slowly up the stairs. + +Margot found Boyle and another man standing solemnly on guard in the +room where so many fateful things had occurred. How many more were +destined to happen there? she wondered vaguely. Mrs. Bellew was +already in the room. Margot smiled, understanding that the inquisitive +and excited creature was determined not to lose a moment of the new +scene soon to be enacted. + +Margot took quiet charge of the situation. She cautioned the landlady +not to speak unless addressed, and asked her to sit still in one +corner of the room, not too far away from the center of the +stage--meaning the brass bed and the trapdoor and the gruesome object +on the floor. She told the two policemen to stand on either side of +the trapdoor. Then she called to Hart to bring in Stella Ball. + +The girl had been directed to walk a little ahead of the three men, +thus blocking her only way of retreat. It was inevitable that she +would see the bed pushed out from the wall, the hole in the floor, and +the withered arm lying on the bare planking, on reaching the threshold +of the room. Her foot was scarcely on the doorsill when she jerked +back on her heels and stared with distended eyes. + +No one spoke. If what she saw could not shake her, words would be +wasted. The moment of hostile silence was calculated to force +confession, but she seemed unconscious of it. All her senses were +concentrated upon the thing on the floor and its significance to her. +Horror and fear were the emotions most clearly expressed on her +hitherto impassive face. Then it hardened, and her lips grew tight. +She paid no attention to anyone but Hart. At him she looked +accusingly. + +“Done me dirt, aint you?” she said coolly. “Got the goods on me, then +brought me here to spring it on me, and watch me jump. Well--whacher +goin’ to do about it?” + +Margot came quickly nearer to the girl. + +“We won’t do anything about it--I mean we won’t do _you_ any harm if +you’ll tell us what you know. Why did you do it?” + +“Do what?” she asked sharply, staring at Margot. + +“Oh, of course, you don’t know that we found the radium in that hand +on the floor--_your_ hand, Stella. How did you get hold of it?” + +“I’ve been a fence for a long time, that’s how,” she said sulkily. + +Margot exchanged a glance of surprised understanding with Gene and +with Hart, then she said gently: + +“Tell us how you got mixed up with a crook who stole radium, and how +you lost your arm?” + +“I lost it all right,” she said with an expression of such acute +distress that Margot said quickly: + +“We’re all awfully sorry for you. But you really must help the law in +every way. If you don’t, I’m afraid it may go hard with you.” + +“I told ya before, I aint committed a crime. The law can’t do nothin’ +to me.” + +“See here, my girl!” Hart spoke impatiently. “Maybe you haven’t done +away with anybody, but being a professional receiver of stolen goods +isn’t one of the things the law smiles at. Better come across and give +us all the dope!” + +“We know a good deal about you already,” Margot prompted gently. “We +know that you lived in this room and we know why.” (Margot had jumped +to a certain conclusion in the last few seconds.) “That trapdoor leads +to a place that’s fine as a receptacle for stolen radium, or anything +small like that. We know that you took this room for that sole +purpose.” + +“How d’you know?” Stella could not be tripped so easily. “Oh, well,” +she added disgustedly, “I guess it don’t take much savvy to know that +much. But I wasn’t the first one to do it. The woman who was here +before gave me the tip.” + +Mrs. Bellew gave a low cry, quickly stifled in her handkerchief. + +“You had a confederate in this house, didn’t you?” Margot held the +girl’s eyes as she added slowly: “An elderly man by the name of +Murchison, who lived on the top floor?” + +“By jove, Margot, you’re wonderful!” It was unprofessional, but Gene +could not restrain his joy at her acumen. It was easy now to follow +her deductions step by step. + +“I got to know him after I come here,” Stella said, staring at the +floor. “He worked in some sort of a hospital, he told me.” + +“You mean, don’t you, the Fellowe Institute?” Margot corrected her +gently. + +“Yeah, guess that was it. He was a pretty slick pickpocket. Used to +bring me watches and things to keep. Then one day he said he’d swiped +a tube of stuff that was worth more’n fifty thousand dollars. I +thought he was lying till I saw the fuss in the papers about the +radium.” + +A gentle question or two from Margot, and the girl told her how she +had hidden the radium in the secret chamber, Murchison having promised +her a big commission when he should sell the stuff. He had told her +that it might take a long time to sell it, because only doctors and +professors would want to buy it, and most of them would be leery about +stolen goods. + +Suddenly Stella’s voice trailed off and her face grew very white. She +closed her eyes and a long shudder shook her thin shoulders. + +“What’s the matter?” The sympathy in Margot’s voice brought a quick +response. + +“I was just thinkin’,” Stella mumbled, “of the night when things went +on the blink.” + +“You mean--” Margot took her up quickly, “the night you +disappeared--three months ago?” + +“Yeah.” The girl gave her head a sudden upward jerk. Fixing her +haggard young eyes on a spot where the light reflected on the footrail +of the brass bed, she finished her astounding narrative. Her words +came in a quick-running monotone, almost without punctuation. The +substance of her story was this: + +Her acquaintance with Murchison had developed during several weeks. +One day he told her to expect him that night at ten o’clock, with a +customer. She had things ready when they arrived. She had turned back +the carpet and opened the trapdoor with an ax. Murchison brought with +him a fat man whom she had never seen. An argument took place between +the two men. The fat man, it seemed, had no idea of buying the radium. +He wanted only to rent it for a week, and he offered Murchison five +hundred dollars. Murchison objected and ended by getting very “sore,” +as Stella expressed it. He told his customer that the deal was off. + +Then Stella took a hand in the fray. She was dead broke at the time +and had counted on the commission promised her by Murchison. She took +the part of the strange man, with the result that a real scrap +started. Murchison, although elderly, was strong and wiry, and a match +for the fat man, whose muscles were soft. But between the two of +them--Stella and the stranger--Murchison was kept busy, and Stella +managed to grab the little tube of radium out of his hand. At that +point of her narrative, she moved her gaze from the bedrail to +Margot’s intensely interested eyes. + +“The old fool went crazy mad when I did that. He was a sort of a nut, +anyway. The next I knew, he’d got ahold of the fire ax and chopped at +me. I went down on the floor. The blade nicked me at the elbow joint +and went clean through. I started to scream, but somebody put his hand +over my mouth and I fainted. I came to in a private hospital. Never +found out who took me there, but somebody paid the bills and kept me +there till I got well. That’s all I know for sure.” + +No one spoke for a brief instant, then Hart said judiciously: + +“One or the other of those two crooks must have known something about +putting a tourniquet above the elbow, or you’d have bled to death +through the artery.” + +“Of course it must have been one of them who took you to the hospital. +Have you any suspicion at all which of them it was--although it +doesn’t really matter,” Margot added quickly. + +“I’d take a bet it wasn’t the old fellow. He was so sore at me I guess +he’d have liked to stick me down that hole along with my arm. Then +too, I don’t believe he’d have dared go to a place like a hospital. +The other guy wasn’t a real crook, or I miss my guess.” + +“Did you realize when Murchison chopped off your arm, that the radium +was clasped in that hand?” Margot asked her. + +“Well--s’pose I did, if I thought of anythin’ but the pain and the +bleedin’. But when I got my head clear, in the hospital, I figured +they’d be too scared to check up on that. I figured they’d throw the +arm and the ax into the hole, and put back the carpet so’s to hide the +bloodstains.” + +“And figuring that way, you broke in here by way of the roof, to get +the radium?” Hart spoke rapidly, then turned to Margot with a slight +inclination of his head. “Excuse me, Miss Anstruther, but my curiosity +got the better of me.” + +“It really doesn’t matter who asks the questions, Mr. Hart, or rather +who asks them _first_,” she added with a smile. + +“What did you suppose I’d come for?” Stella threw Hart a glance of +amused scorn. “Me health maybe, or maybe me arm? _Sure_, I come for +the seventy-five-thousand-dollar goods. Couldn’t pass up a little +thing like that,” she said with a twisted smile. “There was a good +chance the old devil’d beaten me to it, but it was worth a try.” + +Hart asked her if she knew the present whereabouts of Murchison. She +said she didn’t. Then Margot asked her to describe the customer who +had started all the trouble. + +“Well,” said Stella, doubtfully, “I can’t just remember what he looked +like, except he was fat--too fat. I hate fat men.” Her gamin sense of +humor made her throw a quick glance from man to man, and add, with a +boyish grin: “Guess I aint steppin’ on anybody’s toes in this room.” + +Margot smiled to note the unconscious preening of Hart, who was the +thinnest man of them all. Then she asked Stella if that was positively +all she could remember and to tell them of the events leading up to +and following the dramatic incident of the fight over the radium. + +“I’ve told you all I know, s’help me God!” + +The thin, worn face of the girl, and her tragic eyes, carried +conviction as no words could have done. Again there came a silence +which Hart waited for Margot to break, but she only stared with dark, +thoughtful eyes, straight before her. Then Hart said respectfully: + +“You’ve done a fine piece of work, Miss Anstruther. The rest of this +case should be plain sailing.” + +“You think so?” she said gently. “How about the lights on the floor +and the hand that put them out?” + +“That seems clear to me,” Hart said confidently. “The radium shone +through the floor and the carpet. You explained to us, you remember, +that radium rays can pierce through anything. I take it that these +rays also revealed an outline of the dead arm--a sort of mirage in the +dark, which, naturally, seemed to you and to Boyle, to extinguish the +flame.” + +Margot turned quickly to Gene. “Do you see it that way, Gene?” + +“Yes,” he said with conviction. “That part of the mystery was cleared +up, so far as I was concerned, while we were looking at that queer +picture to-night--Stoner’s picture. I took for granted that was what +you wanted me to deduce from it.” + +“I’m sorry, Gene, but that _wasn’t_ what I wanted you to get from that +picture. I rather hoped you’d get something else out of it.” + +“I did,” he said eagerly, “or rather I _do_, looking back at it in the +light of what’s been thrown on the mystery here, to-night.” + +“Righto! We’ll take that up later.” She gave him a warning look, then +turned to Hart. + +“It sounds convincing, the way you put it, Mr. Hart, but I’ll have to +tell you that radium cannot project a mirage. Its rays are invisible +to the naked eye, except with the aid of a special apparatus. The hand +and the lights had nothing whatever to do with radium.” + +“Holy Mother Mary!” Boyle, indifferent to the stares of his audience +and callous to their amused grins, crossed himself for the third time. +“Then it was a ghost, after all, Miss?” + +“That all depends on just what you mean by a ‘ghost’.” Margot’s smile +at Boyle was enigmatic, as she intended it to be, not only to poor +Boyle but to every other person in the room. + + + + + CHAPTER XIII. + WILL-O’-THE-WISP + +The love of drama which lay back of Margot’s histrionic talent, and +which had always made her create situations out of material from which +the unimaginative could weave nothing, now made her eyes shine with +the sheer delight of the artist who first creates and then interprets. +The scientist was in the background for the moment; only the actress +stood smiling and looking from one mystified face to another. + +Gene’s puzzled frown changed suddenly to a smile of encouragement and +understanding. He caught her mood and threw it back to her, with a +humorous sympathy that quickened a tenderness for him which flashed in +her eyes and curled the corners of her mouth. It was rather thrilling +to have such an absorbed audience, inclusive of Gene with his adoring +belief in her powers of analysis, and cleverness in general. + +“If it won’t bore any of you,” she began, her smile broadening at +their eager denials, “I’ll tell you just what my process of deduction +has been in this case, up to this point. Mr. Hart, what puzzles you +most of all?” + +“The matter of the lights on the carpet,” he said quickly. + +“Isn’t that funny,” she said, her smile solely for Hart. “That’s just +where I was going to begin my explanation. Well--first of all, the +flame _I_ saw was my own match, of course. But the one Boyle saw was +of a very different character--a most singular character, in fact. +Moreover, if there had been witnesses here at favorable moments, both +before and after, I believe they would have seen it too.” + +“Sure, it was just like me own poor luck. I’ll be thinking, that it +was meself was seein’ the quare lights!” Boyle was far too engrossed +with his subject to be conscious of Hart’s glance of disapproval. + +“That _was_ a question of luck, you’re right.” Margot smiled at Boyle. +“It was the merest chance that others didn’t see the same thing. Have +any of you ever heard of what is called in Latin the _ignis fatuus_?” + +Gene nodded his head, and Hart said: “You mean what’s commonly called +the will-o’-the-wisp?” + +“Glory be!” It was Boyle again, irrepressible and oblivious of his +superior’s scowl. “It’s what you’ll be seein’ in graveyards of a dark +night!” + +“Some call it a ‘corpse-candle,’” contributed Quinlan, not to be +outshone by his comrade. “There’s many in the auld country that’s seen +it, I’m tellin’ you, Miss.” + +“Surely,” agreed Margot. “Millions of people in all quarters of the +world believe in it, and many have seen the thing called +will-o’-the-wisp, but not necessarily in graveyards. I saw it once +myself. I was riding a horse through a dark patch of woods, and the +weird thing came out from the underbrush and shot across the road +right in front of my horse. He shied horribly and almost threw me.” + +“What did it look like, Margot?” Gene was trying vainly to make his +own deductions. + +“Like nothing I’d ever seen before. It was like a small, live thing, +made of fire, or charged with electricity. It rolled and danced its +way along, keeping close to the ground. The encyclopedias admit that +dead animal and vegetable matter exhales a phosphorescent glow under +certain conditions. They are not sure that it ever seeps up from a +coffin, through several feet of tightly-packed earth, but they don’t +deny the possibility.” + +“Anything’s possible, I suppose,” muttered Hart. “I’m just coming to +that conclusion. Well, go on, Miss Anstruther. You’ve certainly got me +guessing.” + +“A great French writer once said that ‘he who pronounces a thing +impossible, commits an imprudence,’ so you’re playing safe, Mr. Hart,” +she said with a laugh. “Of course, all great mysteries raise the +question, ‘Can such things be?’ I fully believe that, within the +bounds of physical law, unproved and amazing phenomena may occur. And +I believe that the light that flickered on this floor--the one Boyle +saw--was a will-o’-the-wisp, from the severed arm of Stella Ball.” + +Everyone stared at her, and Boyle heaved a great sigh of relief. It +was as if her explanation had dispelled the shadow of the +supernatural, which was all that concerned or interested him. Then +Quinlan, as superstitious as Boyle, but with a quicker mind, or a more +practical one, asked a question which Margot had expected to come from +Hart. + +“What about the hand that doused the flame, Miss?” + +“Oh, that’s quite simple. It was the hand of a person very much alive +and, I believe, dangerous.” + +“Came to that conclusion myself,” said Hart. Well, well, she thought, +for the third time, Hart wasn’t at all a fool. Then he asked her +sharply: “Whose hand? Have you got that far?” + +“Sure, if she could tell you that, Chief, the Mayor ought to make her +Police Commissioner!” Quinlan’s sarcasm was heavy, but it amused +Margot. + +“The hand,” she began solemnly, “was the hand of the man Murchison, +who stole the radium in the first place, and who is, in my opinion, +the only major criminal in the whole affair.” + +“Sure, it was the old devil,” Stella agreed eagerly. “Just like the +old crook to come snoopin’ round. He couldn’t bear to lose it. But how +the hell did he get in here without your seein’ him?” + +No one objected to the girl’s swearing. It seemed rather to give vent +to the general sentiment. + +“Yes, how?” Hart was frowning again. “You don’t mean you think he was +in the room while you were in bed, and while Boyle was watching later? +Where could he have hidden, I’d like to know?” + +“Just a _minute_!” Margot couldn’t control a low laugh at Hart’s +impatience. “Murchison was _not_ in this room. If he _had_ been he’d +have been caught. But his _hand_ was! Look! I’ll show you.” + +She pointed to the small register with its iron grill-work, a few +inches above the level of the floor, in the wall against which the +head of the bed had stood. Mrs. Bellew, up to that moment obediently +silent and motionless in her corner, came across the room with dilated +eyes. She stood, as did the others, staring at the spot indicated by +Margot, who was asking Hart to test it and telling him that he would +find it loose. Murchison, she asserted, had loosened it. + +“Do you see?” she said eagerly. “The hole’s big enough to let through +a hand and arm. It would be quite possible for a long arm to reach to +the spot where the lights appeared.” + +“And it’s a long arm he had. I remember it well!” Mrs. Bellew could no +longer keep silent. + +Hart fumbled with the grill-work. It gave way under his fingers and +slid to one side. A dark hole gaped in the wall. + +“I’ll be damned if you’re not right!” Hart exploded. “But I still +don’t get the part about the lights.” He stood up and stared at Margot +inquiringly. + +“It’s like this, Mr. Hart. Murchison has been tunneling through from +the adjoining house. I calculate that he’d almost finished his job the +night the trouble started--trouble for me, I mean,” she added with a +laugh. “Of course it’s been awfully slow work. Once he got the grill +loosened, he was able to reach in and suppress the lights on the +rug--over and over again. He must have thought that the light from my +match was like the others he’d seen. The point is, he couldn’t risk +letting _any_ flame or light, call attention to the secret chamber +underneath.” + +“Fine!” Hart’s thin face glowed with satisfaction and understanding. +“But there’s just one thing, Miss Anstruther, which I don’t get. Why +didn’t Murchison pick some quiet afternoon when he could have felt +fairly sure the room wasn’t occupied, and sneak in by the roof, the +way the girl did?” + +“I think I’ve checked up on that,” Margot said quietly. She turned to +the landlady. “Isn’t it a fact, Mrs. Bellew, that between Stella’s +tenancy and mine, this room was occupied by two women?” + +“Yes, dearie, a couple of cranky old maids they were, hipped on the +subject of thieves breaking in and stealing their valuables, although +I never could see what they had that anybody’d want.” + +“So one or the other of these women was always in the room? Is that +right?” + +“You’re right, Miss Anstruther. It was that roof they were most scared +of. They wouldn’t trust no locks or bars.” + +Margot turned shining eyes to Hart. “Isn’t that your answer?” she +asked him eagerly. “Aren’t you convinced?” + +“I sure am.” His dry, inexpressive face showed a degree of enthusiasm +that flattered Margot more subtly than his admiring: “There aren’t +many detectives on the Force as good as you are, Miss Anstruther. I’m +here to tell the world that!” + +“I don’t believe, Hart, that you’ve got one quite so good!” Gene’s +eulogy was accompanied by a glance of such mute admiration that Margot +had to stifle a mad desire to run to him and throw her arms around his +neck, regardless of her audience. + +Then the natural-born pessimist in Hart came to the front. + +“It’s too bad,” he said gloomily, “that we didn’t have this +information three days ago. The old fellow’s had plenty of time to +make his getaway. He won’t be easy to find.” + +“You may be right, but my opinion of Murchison is that he simply +couldn’t tear himself away and leave that radium behind.” + +“You’re right, Miss!” Stella once more became articulate. + +“I’m almost sure he’s still living right next door. He wouldn’t start +tunneling till late at night. I suggest that you go and take a look.” +She pointed to the wall. + +“Ask whoever owns the house next door to let you examine the room +corresponding to this one.” + +Hart, full of doubts, but ready by now to follow any lead suggested by +Margot, marshaled his men, and departed, taking Stella with him. +Before they left the room, Margot went up to Stella, and put her hand +with a kindly pressure on the girl’s thin shoulder. + +“My dear,” she said softly, “I don’t know anything about you; where +you came from, or what. But I do believe that you’ve been more sinned +against than sinning, from the very beginning--whatever that beginning +was. Perhaps you’ll tell me some day. In the meantime, my dear, try to +believe in my sincere sympathy. I’m going to stand by you and see that +you get a square deal, first and last. I don’t mean merely the trial +which I’m afraid you’ll have to stand. I mean _after_ that. I’m going +to help you every way I can--a good job, a decent home, all the rest +of it.” + +She took Stella’s left hand in hers and gave it a little squeeze. She +smiled into her eyes--eyes as naturally distrustful as a cat’s, but +into which came a quivering light of gratitude and animal affection +such as a child feels for those who give it tenderness and love. The +beauty of trust and tenderness in Margot’s lovely face, had conquered +the girl’s ugly spirit. + +Margot dismissed or rather escaped the landlady and her inevitable +bombardment of questions and excited conjectures by telling her that +her head ached from the long strain, and that she must rest, then go +for a walk and fresh air. In her room upstairs, to which she had +beckoned Gene, she dropped wearily into an armchair, let him light a +cigarette for her, and closed her eyes, slowly inhaling and blowing +the smoke out from her parted lips. Gene sat quite still, smoking and +watching her, but venturing no word nor caress. It was the most +complete demonstration he could have made, of unity with her, and +intelligent devotion. + +When Margot finally opened her eyes and looked at him, she said +softly: + +“Gene, dear, I didn’t realize what a brick you are--just the _kind_ of +a brick I like best,” she added with one of her humorous twists to +commonplace things, and a twinkle in her gray eyes. + +“You flatter me,” he said smiling, but not moving from his chair. +Again she was astonished at his understanding of her. She wasn’t quite +ready for any demonstrative expression of his feeling for her, and he +knew it. Suddenly she felt that she would be ready for it sooner than +she had supposed possible. + +“The thing I like best,” she went on, “is that you’ve let me rest +here, and haven’t asked me a single question, and all the time I know +you’ve just been seething with a desire to ask one _particular_ +question, ‘ain’t it the truth?’” She laughed at the surprised widening +of his eyes. + +“If you know that much, I won’t have to ask it,” he said, his smile +warming to a grin of appreciation of her quick wit. + +“Question and answer--I’ll supply both. You’re wondering if I have the +least idea, or rather an _opinion_, as to who the man was who came +with Murchison the night Stella was injured. Well, my dear old scout, +I certainly have--more than either an idea or an opinion. I’ve got a +life-sized conviction--otherwise known as a _hunch_!” + +“And _I’m_ thinking,” Gene said quickly, “that either I’m reading your +mind with uncanny ease, or else I’m more of a sleuth than I supposed, +for I know whom you mean--your mystery-man, with the pale eyes--your +Superfilm director, Frederick Stoner.” + +“By jove!” she said with boyish eagerness. “You certainly are getting +on! I’m thrilled, I’m proud of you, Gene!” + +“Well, I’ve gotten that far, but I’m damned if I see just how he’s +been actually mixed up in it, except that I’ve followed your +deductions pretty closely, and perhaps thought transference had +something to do with it. I knew you meant Stoner, and that’s all I do +know.” + +“Didn’t his picture, _The Masque of Life_, give you a clue--I mean +something more than your first wrong guess about the powers of +radium?” + +“Certainly! The impression was vague at first, but afterwards, when I +listened to some of the things you brought out, I made sense out of +two things: Stoner’s evident knowledge, superficial though it might +be--of radium, and his attitude from the beginning, of being so eager +to have you drop the mystery. Those two things seem to join up in my +mind to indicate that Stoner must have had some connection with the +theft of the radium. Is that what you mean, Margot?” + +“No, not that he was involved in the theft of it. He would be too +cautious for anything like that, and besides, impossible as he is in +some ways, he’s _not_ a crook, whether from lack of nerve or +inclination, I don’t know. I’ll give you another guess,” she +challenged him. + +“My mind’s a blank. Go on, dear. My curiosity threatens to overpower +me.” + +“Well--here’s the dope, as Stella Ball would put it. For days my +suspicion regarding Stoner has been growing. That picture merely +confirmed it. I felt instinctively that his _blah_ about publicity was +just that--blah--bunk. I knew that he was afraid of _something_. It +was for his own sake, not mine, that he wanted me to drop the case. +That meant he had something to conceal. And then, don’t forget that +queer look I used to see in his eyes, every now and then. The look I +first noticed when I gave this house as my address. But still I was +vague as to the real motive back of it all.” + +“And that picture supplied the missing link of cause and effect?” Gene +asked with quick grasp of her chain of thought. + +“Righto! That first, then Stella’s story about the mysterious ‘fat +man,’ who didn’t want to buy the radium but only _rent_ it. Now _why_ +would a movie director want to rent radium from a crook? Again, answer +and question, both supplied while you wait.” Her laugh was infectious. +“Now listen carefully, old dear. Stoner’s of the old school--full of +notions about impressing the poor, long-suffering public, with the +wildest sort of hoakum. And he’s rather ignorant, outside of his +business. What he knew about things such as radium, you could stuff +into a thimble.” + +“I get you,” Gene interrupted eagerly. “That radium machine in the +picture! He must have been working on that picture just at the time +Stella disappeared. He got to a certain point, then he was +stumped,--couldn’t get the effects he wanted, so he decided to try to +get hold of some radium. Must have read about the theft from the +Fellowe Institute, but how the devil did he tie up with Murchison?” + +“That’s something we may or may not find out. All depends on what we +_do_ with Stoner.” Again she laughed, overcome with humor at +remembrance of Stoner’s weak attempts to fake radium. “Wasn’t it +_funny_ the way he made that diabolical machine glow in the dark, and +shoot out rays like forked lightning? He must have thought that it had +those properties. About as much like _radium_ as mud! But how sore he +must have been, with his bug about realism, when events forced him to +get his effects by hoakum, and rotten hoakum at that!” + +“Speaking of ‘hoakum,’ may I be permitted, my dear girl, to outrage +your feelings by applying just that word to most of your eloquence on +the subject of ‘ignis fatuus’--‘corpse +candle’--‘will-o’-the-wisp’--whatever it’s called?” Gene grinned at +her teasingly. + +“You’d outrage my _intelligence_--and your own--if you didn’t regard +my eloquence on the subject in just that light. Of course there’s more +than a grain of truth as to the unproved yet undeniable possibilities +regarding the phosphorescence from dead animal and vegetable matter. +But in this case I skimmed lightly over thin ice--weak logic--in +certain places.” + +“Notably,” Gene interjected quickly, “in your ignoring of the fact +that if the desiccated arm had been preserved from decay by heat and +dryness, no exhaling of phosphorescence would be possible. I had to +laugh at the way Hart swallowed whole all you said.” + +“Perhaps he didn’t, really, but he seemed to. He’d been so darn +skeptical, that when finally I got him on the run in my exposition of +events, and he was eating right out of my hand, I couldn’t resist the +temptation to see how far I could go. Besides, Gene, I think my +imagination took the bit in its teeth. I almost believed what I was +saying, once I’d started.” + +“Briefly, as I see it, Margot, the light you saw was a match, and +Boyle, with his superstitious fears, might have seen anything, and you +don’t actually _know_ that there _were_ any lights at any time, for +Murchison to tap out. Isn’t that it?” + +“Certainly. The night I got the scare, undoubtedly he saw my match and +thought it safer to put it out while waiting for a propitious moment +for what he planned to do.” + +“Well, to return to Stoner. I can’t see why you’re in doubt as to what +to do with _that_ bird.” + +“Just because, dear, Stoner’s more of a fool than a knave, in my +humble opinion. If Murchison is caught--which I’m sure he’ll be--and +if Murchison squeals, as they call it, on Stoner--which I’m not so +sure of, for rogues sometimes have strange spasms of honor--then of +course he could be punished for trafficking in stolen goods. But _I’m_ +not going to be the one to denounce him to the police. After all, he +hasn’t committed a _crime_.” + +“Good Lord! You’re not going to let him go scot free!” + +“No--not exactly.” The smile on Margot’s lips was a trifle feline in +quality. “I have a subtle revenge and punishment planned, which I’m +going to start going to-morrow. My unseen weapon is to be Corinne +Delamar. Can’t you picture the rumpus she’ll start? First a personal +one with her quondam lover, then one staged on a larger scale with the +entire Superfilm organization as props, actors and camera men.” + +“By George, Margot! You’d have been invaluable to the subtle gentlemen +at the time of the Inquisition!” + +“Not quite so bad as that, am I?” She asked, laughing. + +She read his answer in his eyes, and his sudden spring from his chair, +as he came toward her. At that most inopportune moment--her heart said +it was inopportune--the telephone rang. She had had a connection put +in her new quarters. She ran to the instrument, brushing by Gene’s +outstretched arms, and took up the receiver. + +“Hello! Yes… yes… Fine! All right!” He heard her call into the +mouthpiece, then she turned to him, and seized his arm excitedly. + +“They’ve arrested Murchison!” + + + + + CHAPTER XIV. + LOVE’S ALARM + +Cornelius Hart surprised and delighted Margot with his unsuspected +power for dramatic narrative. It was almost as exciting, she told him +sweetly, as if she had been present at the pursuit, discovery and +final capture of Murchison. + +“… and so, after we’d smashed in his door, and searched everywhere in +his almost empty room, I knew there was only one place he could be. +He’d locked himself into the room, for the lodging-house woman next +door was positive she’d seen him go up a short time before. She was +equally sure he hadn’t come down again. Funny, the way those dames +keep track of their lodgers!” The amused reflection cut into his +narrative. + +“Yes, isn’t it!” Margot laughed, with a sudden picture of her own +landlady snooping around in halls and outside of doors. + +“Well, as I was saying, I knew he was inside that room. There was no +roof, like outside that room of yours, for him to get out on and no +fire-escape either. I took one look at the hole he’d dug to get into +this house, and I had a pretty good hunch where the old fellow was +hiding. So we poked into it. I’ll be damned if he hadn’t crawled so +far in, and was so tightly wedged in the tunnel, that it took two of +us to drag him out by his heels.” + +“Poor old thing, I’m a little sorry for him, after all.” Margot’s +tender heart was not proof even against the menace of a criminal who +might have threatened her own safety. + +“Don’t waste your pity, Miss Anstruther! He’s a hard old nut. But I’ll +say this much for him--he didn’t squeal on the man involved with him +the night the girl had her arm chopped off.” + +“I didn’t think he would,” Margot said, smiling at Gene. “Honor among +thieves, Mr. Hart.” + +“He may tell yet. We haven’t grilled him yet. Wait till he’s brought +to trial. That’ll be the test, when he’ll have a chance to get off +light by squealing.” + +“Rotten ethics, I should say!” Margot’s lips curled with scorn for the +strange and devious ways of the law and of what is called justice. + +“Well, that’s the way it’s always been, and always will be, I guess. +Of course you’ll have to be present at the trial, Miss Anstruther.” He +looked at her as if expecting a feminine protest, but Margot only +laughed. + +“I wouldn’t miss it for the world! And besides,” she added seriously, +“I’m sincerely interested in that poor girl, so I’d want to be on hand +for her sake, even if I didn’t have to be.” + +When Hart had gone, Margot stared thoughtfully at Gene. + +“I do hope,” she said anxiously, “that I’ll be able to get a light +sentence for that poor girl. Wish I could get her off altogether, but +I’m afraid there’s no hope for that.” + +“Guess not. But if _anyone_ can influence the judge in her favor, you +can, Margot, in the circumstances. Shouldn’t be surprised if she’d go +straight after this, if they give her half a chance.” + +“I’m _sure_ of it. She’s got a real brain in that small head of hers, +but she’s had a rotten run for her money all her young life. ‘_Nous +allons changer tout cela_’, as the French say. But my _next_ job is to +tackle our friend Stoner, through Corinne. And then--well, there’ll be +time for another matter of importance before the trial.” + +“Now what the devil have you up your sleeve?” Gene frowned +impatiently. + +“Oh, a most important and thrilling affair that will demand all my +thought and time--for a few weeks.” + +Gene’s despair was obvious. It would appear that the mystery, +apparently cleared up, had fallen again. Apparently Margot was not yet +ready to give him--and his love for her--their due place in the scheme +of things. + +“Don’t you wish you knew?” she teased him. “All in good time, old +dear.” + +“But, Margot, there’s a limit to my endurance. I’m madly in love with +you, and you promised to face that particular tragedy--and it most +certainly is a tragedy for me until I can end this suspense--as soon +as you cleared up the mystery. Now it’s cleared up, and you actually +have the nerve to tell me that when you’ve cleaned up Delamar and +Stoner, you’ve still got another important matter to adjust!” + +“I did say that, didn’t I?” Her eyes tried to look dreamily absent, in +a mist of uncertainty, but she couldn’t prevent the spark of laughter +and roguish dart of mischief as her glance met his. + +“You _are_ a little devil!” He made a rush at her, but she was too +quick for him. + +“Come on, now, Gene! I’m famished and I’m sure you are too. Let’s +celebrate with a good dinner somewhere which includes the privilege of +buying as many cocktails as we can swallow. I feel just like it, and I +know just the place. Come on!” + +Cocktails and dinner and jazz! It was the cheeriest, jolliest evening +Margot had enjoyed since the night of her now famous party. The late +editions of the evening papers gave a grotesquely lurid account of the +arrest of Murchison and of the events leading up to it, events in +which Margot Anstruther, the beautiful and clever young screen star--a +star, mind you!--had played the rôle of detective in the most +thrilling of mystery stories since the time of Sherlock Holmes. Some +particularly enterprising reporter had got hold of a picture of +Margot--a “still” from the studio--in the costume of “Conchita.” The +morning papers would of course have additional details--most of them +Simon Pure inventions, unless she interviewed the reporters, which she +did, later in the evening, before going home. + +Margot and Gene took bets as to what Stoner would do on reading the +news about Murchison and the stolen radium. Gene bet that he would +give himself away by his consciousness of guilt. Margot believed that +he would bluff it out, and would try to get word to Murchison, to +attempt to bribe the old man not to drag him into it. + +“Of course,” Margot said, “he’s been on pins and needles for fear I’d +unearth something. But now that the story of the radium and Stella’s +arm has come out, and Stoner’s name hasn’t been remotely referred to, +I think he’ll feel quite safe except for Murchison. You wait and see +if I’m not right.” + +“As you’ve been right about everything else to date, I’ll take your +word for it, Margot.” + +She refused throughout the evening to talk about herself. When Gene +took her home, she let him go into her room to smoke a cigarette, but +love-making seemed to be taboo. She was tired, she was nervous, she +was sleepy--any one of the hundred things a woman can be when she +doesn’t want a man’s caresses. Finally Gene, baffled and a little +resentful, rose to go. + +He bent over her, his eager eyes and lips demanding at least a +good-night kiss. She rose slowly and put both hands on his shoulders, +looking him squarely in the eyes, without the suspicion of a smile. +She said solemnly: + +“You may kiss me good night, Gene--as a _brother_. It may be for the +very last time,” with which vague threat she kissed him herself, on +the lips, in a frankly sisterly manner, and she laughed suddenly into +his puzzled eyes. + +Puzzlement changed quickly to resentment. She saw his eyes darken and +flash, and his lips tighten. He drew back and shook off her hands from +his shoulders. Then he said quietly: + +“You’re making a fool of me, Margot, and I don’t particularly relish +it. If my love for you strikes you merely as a joke, or something to +be sisterly about, it’s time I got out from under. I’m getting a +little tired of mysteries and of a game which amuses only one of us.” + +Surprised, then suddenly angry at his impatience and failure to +respond to her mood, Margot spoke coldly. + +“Your remark about getting out from under would seem to imply that +I’ve been trying to _hold_ you. That’s a little far-fetched, isn’t it, +Gene?” + +He took a step nearer to her, his eyes glowing with suddenly released +passion. With a sweep of his arm he seized her and crushed her against +him. He bent his head and kissed her eyes and then her mouth as he had +never dared to kiss her before. She was too startled to struggle in +his arms, and as suddenly as he had seized her he let her go. His +lips, trembling from their passionate contact with hers, formed words +that tumbled brokenly, one over the other. + +“_That’s_--just how--_brotherly_--I feel--for you. That’s the way--I’m +going to kiss you--if at all. I’ll never kiss you again--I’ll never +_see_ you--again--unless you send for me--to be your husband--or your +lover.” He seemed to fling the last word at her in bitter defiance. + +“Your--technique--hasn’t improved.” She knew that it had, but she said +that, urged by a vague, primitive desire to see what he would do if +further exasperated. She might have known that he would take her a +little too literally. + +“No,” he said, with slow bitterness. “I don’t suppose it has,” and +with that, and before she could detain him with a word or look, he +tore open her door and slammed it behind him. + +Silly--silly, of them both, Margot reflected, as she undressed. Of +course Gene would get over his extraordinary burst of angry +resentment, and, of course, when he understood just what she had meant +by saying that he could give her a brotherly kiss for the last time, +he would be sorry he had been so fierce. However, it was rather +interesting and exciting to find that Gene _could_ be fierce like +that. + +She touched her lips softly, still feeling the pressure of his. She +smiled and a little thrill of genuine emotion made her tremble. For +the first time in several nights, Margot slept the dreamless sleep of +a happy, healthy girl who is in love with life and in love with a man. +Gene’s outburst had made very clear to her that she loved him. She +would call him back, oh, yes, nothing would be easier, but she would +wait until.… Into unconsciousness she carried the vision of his face +with its dark, flashing eyes, and the touch of his lips on hers. + + + + + CHAPTER XV. + STONER’S SHARE + +Margot made an early start for Astoria. Her impatience to talk with +Corinne Delamar would have brought her to the studio still earlier if +there had been any hope of finding the star on the lot before eleven +o’clock. Very different, this voluntary call upon Corinne, to Margot’s +last visit, solicited by the star and made by Margot with bored +distaste. She laughed softly to herself, remembering her eavesdropping +and the advantage it had given her over Stoner. It might be true that +listeners never hear good of themselves, but at least it would appear +that sometimes what they heard in this unapproved manner gave them the +whip-handle in dealing with crooks, or, to be more charitable, those +who followed crooked ways. + +She went straight to Corinne’s dressing-room. The colored maid said +that her mistress was doing a scene a short distance from the studio, +but would return in a half hour, she thought. Margot waited an hour, +amusing herself with a movie periodical she found in the +dressing-room. Among other diverting matter it contained an interview +with Miss Delamar, which gave a word picture of the actress as a +person of high ideals, strict views on love and marriage, and a belief +that the moving picture industry was the greatest symbol of art for +art’s sake, and morality for the world, that had so far been +discovered. Very clever of Corinne! And clever of the interviewer, who +had carefully avoided the slightest suggestion of irony. That was the +sort of thing the movie fans ate up, and what the moving-picture +industry hoped that they would digest and thrive on. There was also a +“still” of Corinne, which indicated a beauty as ravishing as it was +pure and noble. Well, well! Margot wondered if she would ever have +such a chance to laugh at a description of herself. + +Corinne stood in the small doorway looking at Margot with curious but +not antagonistic eyes. Margot rose quickly and asked her pardon for +having taken the liberty of waiting for her in her dressing-room. She +particularly did not wish to see anyone else, she carefully explained. +Corinne, dressed as the heroine in _A Toreador’s Love_, and looking +prettier than usual--a purely fleshly prettiness--was gracious in a +stilted way (the only way possible to her, when she felt socially +inferior to another woman), told Margot please to sit down, and +offered her a cigarette. Margot, remembering that her father had once +told her that in any interview the first advantage lies with the one +who speaks last, deliberately waited for Corinne to begin the +conversation. Margot could be silent, with a beaming smile, and gentle +repose of manner, most misleading to strangers. + +“What can I do for you, Miss Anstruther?” That wasn’t so stupid of +Corinne, Margot thought, smiling sweetly, for it put her at once in +the position of one dispensing patronage. Margot’s smile became still +more friendly and confidential. + +“That’s awfully nice of you, Miss Delamar, but you see, I’ve come to +do something for _you_!” + +Corinne’s cigarette hung loosely from her painted lips, as she stared +at Margot. + +“I don’t quite see what _you_ can do for _me_, Miss Anstruther--in the +circumstances.” Nasty dig that, thought Margot, still smiling. + +“Nevertheless,” she said gently, “I’m going to try to. And one of my +reasons for doing so, Miss Delamar, is that I have always liked you.” +Naughty Margot! What more subtle way of patronizing than to assure an +acquaintance that you’ve always liked them? Yet the genuine ring of +friendliness in her voice made Corinne say quickly: + +“And, as a matter of fact, I’ve liked you, although there seemed to be +plenty of reason why I shouldn’t.” + +“You’re mistaken. There hasn’t been any such reason--not for a +moment.” This time there was no doubt of Margot’s sincerity. + +“You mean--what you said the last time you were here--about having no +particular use for Fred Stoner, in a personal way, I mean?” + +“Yes, that, and all that stuff he filled your head with about my +working publicity in order to get an advantage over you. What I told +you that day--just the other day, but it seems ages ago--I’ve come +here to-day to prove to you, Miss Delamar.” + +Corinne frowned, looking from Margot to the floor, out into space and +back at Margot as if trying to piece together disconnected facts. Then +she said: + +“I don’t know what you have to tell me, but I suppose it has something +to do with your mystery story. Although I can’t imagine how _that_ can +concern Stoner or me, now that you’re no longer in the cast, Miss +Anstruther.” + +“Did you read what the papers published last night and this morning?” +Margot asked quickly. + +“I read this morning’s story. How much of it is true?” + +“All of it! I got hold of some newspaper men last night, and made them +agree to write it up for to-day’s papers with some idea of sticking to +facts. But of course there’s a lot they didn’t print because they know +nothing about it. And it’s _that_ I’ve come here to tell you. You +remember the reference to the fat man whom Stella Ball said had come +to her room that night, with Murchison, offering to pay a certain sum +for the rental for a week of the radium stolen by Murchison?” + +“Yes. The one who is supposed to have paid the girl’s hospital bill?” +Corinne seemed to make no connection yet, in her mystified brain. + +“Well, that fat man--as the girl described him--was--is--a would-be +famous film director, by name Frederick Stoner!” + +Corinne stared at her without speaking. The ashes from her cigarette +fell over her breast, and she threw the cigarette into a corner of the +room. Finally she said slowly: + +“I suppose--Miss Anstruther--you wouldn’t dare--make such a +statement--without being able--to give proof?” + +“Hardly!” Margot gave a short laugh, a hard little laugh, recalling +Stoner’s contemptible treatment of her and of Gene. + +“What _is_ your proof?” + +“The ‘proof’ will speak for himself.” + +“You mean the man Murchison, but he’s refused, the police say, to +squeal on his customer, as he calls him. You mean you know that +Murchison will give it away in court?” + +“No, I don’t mean that at all. I mean that the man himself--the one +who was there _with_ Murchison, will be the living proof, and to +_you_, Miss Delamar.” + +Corinne studied her with narrowed, suspicious eyes. She seemed trying +to take the measure of the quiet, self-contained girl who sat in front +of her, throwing out vague hints, that perhaps weren’t so vague after +all. An expression flashed suddenly in her green eyes, which told +Margot that Corinne’s intelligence had risen to the occasion. + +“I suppose you’re insinuating, Miss Anstruther, that you’ve got enough +on Fred Stoner to force his confession?” + +“Precisely! And his confession to you in my presence, if you’ll be so +kind as to send for him. And just one thing more, before he comes. I +don’t believe that Stoner is always aboveboard in his affairs with +women. I want to confess something myself. The other day, when you +sent for me, I started to go to my dressing-room before seeing you. As +I reached the foot of the stairs, I heard your voice talking about me. +I felt no hesitancy in listening, after hearing my own name, in view +of your sending for me and of the attitude Stoner had taken about my +investigating the mystery of my room.” + +“Do you mean to say you heard the whole conversation?” Corinne’s red +lips trembled and her eyes darkened with anger. + +“Hardly that, for I’ve no idea how long it was going on before I +arrived. Also I ran off after I’d heard enough to prove what I’d +already suspected, that he was trying his best to start something +between you and me.” + +“You didn’t hear anything--anything of a more--personal nature?” + +“Personal, you mean, Miss Delamar, as between you and Stoner? I’m +afraid I did. I heard enough to understand that you thought--as you +implied to me in our _first_ short interview--that I was flirting with +him, and that he was interested in me. I heard also enough to know +that he has either lied to you or lied to me or--as is quite as +likely--lied to both of us. I heard him assure you of his loyal +devotion, or something like that, and of his utter indifference to me. +And I want to tell you, because I really like you, that his advances +toward me, whatever his motives may have been, took the form of forced +love-making in my room, when he had come unbidden, with the excuse of +having a theory to give me about my mystery. And not only did he force +his physical attentions, but he begged me to marry him, took away my +job because I refused--incidentally I struck him across the +face--because I lost my temper--and told me he’d give the job back to +me any time I might decide to marry him.” + +Corinne had not interrupted by a word or a gesture, merely watching +with eyes that glinted like a cat’s. Then she said: + +“I believe what you say, for if your statement about his being the man +who wanted to rent the radium is true, then you can punish him enough +in that direction without revenging yourself by lying about his asking +you to marry him.” + +Margot, rather amazed by Corinne’s ability to reason so logically, +said eagerly: + +“That’s absolutely right. My only reason for telling you that part of +the story which concerns Stoner and myself in a personal way, is +because it concerns you also, in so much as I have reason to believe +that you’ve felt an interest in Stoner which I’m afraid he doesn’t +appreciate. As one woman to another, I want to warn you.” + +In spite of the makeup on cheeks and lips, Corinne had turned very +white. Margot felt a chill disgust, tempered by pity, that so pretty, +and, she believed, decent a girl as Corinne, should have fallen for a +man like Stoner. Corinne moistened her dry lips and called to her +maid. She told her to find the director and tell him that Miss Delamar +must see him at once on an urgent matter. Then she cautioned the maid, +in no circumstances to let Stoner suspect that she had a caller in her +dressing-room. + +Corinne turned to her dressing-table, studied her face in the mirror, +and carefully rubbed in some cold cream, rubbed it off, added a soft +liquid powder, then a cream rouge on lips and cheeks, then a soft +dusting of powder. Also she put some drops in her eyes. Then she +forced a smile and told Margot that she was ready to receive the +“would-be famous film director.” Strange, Margot thought, that +although Corinne had been loath to believe ill of Stoner when it +concerned crooked outside dealings, she seemed to have accepted +Margot’s arraignment of him regarding their personal relations, +without question! + +Margot would never forget Stoner’s expression when he stood just +inside the small dressing-room, and met her amused and calmly accusing +eyes. Corinne, watching him with her green eyes, did not miss the +quick batting of his eyelids, the drawing in of his thick lips, and +the yellowish film that covered, for an instant, the iris of his pale +blue eyes, when his first glance discovered Margot sitting at ease in +the star’s dressing-room. + +Again Margot conferred the disadvantage on her antagonist, by giving +him the first chance to speak, and Corinne intuitively did the same. +Stoner, his eyes half covered by his heavy lids, looked with surly +assurance from one woman to the other. Instinctively he seemed to feel +their alignment, and antagonism to him. + +“What do you want?” he said with gruff abruptness, his expressionless +eyes fixed on the star. + +Before Corinne could answer him, Margot said quietly: + +“_She_ doesn’t really want anything of you, Mr. Stoner. _I’m_ the one +who wants to see you.” She held his eyes with a gaze so keen and +masterful that his glance wavered and fell. + +“I just wanted to tell you, Mr. Stoner, in the presence of Miss +Delamar, that I know, beyond any possibility of doubt or denial on +your part, that you were the man who went to the room of Stella Ball +and who wanted to rent that radium!” + +As if against his will, his eyes once more met Margot’s. There was no +mistaking that look of fear, followed swiftly by a gleam of anger. + +“Hell of a lot you know about me!” + +His language, though inelegant, made Margot smile in his face, which +enraged him still further. He glared at her venomously. + +“I was a fool to choose _you_ that day, instead of Lulu Leinster.” + +Margot’s irritating smile broadened. + +“I believe I’ve heard you express those sentiments before, Mr. Stoner. +In view of what I know about you, your reason for choosing me that +day, for the picture, is quite obvious. I repeat my accusation about +Stella Ball and the radium.” + +Stoner’s face grew purple. “What the devil do you mean by telling such +lies? Don’t you know you can be sued for libel--defamation of +character?” His threat held so much bluster that it made Margot smile +again. + +“Not by you, Mr. Stoner, for what I accuse you of isn’t libel or +defamation of character. It’s God’s truth. Quite apart from the way +you aroused my suspicions by all that rot about publicity, and your +evident eagerness to make me drop the matter of my mystery--not to +mention a very strange expression I caught in your eyes several times, +notably when I first gave you my address; your behavior the night you +called on me (your call was merely a ruse to examine that room), your +extraordinary antics in the room where the policeman was keeping +guard, and your still more extraordinary and utterly unconvincing +theory about the lights and the hand putting them out--merely an +attempt to choke off my theories, or an excuse for your call; all this +set the stage beautifully for the final curtain.” She stopped, +watching him with amusement overlaying her serious intent to corner +him. + +“What do you mean?” Sheer curiosity forced the quick question. + +“I mean, Mr. Stoner, the remarkable kick I got out of your picture +_The Masque of Life_, with its weird and absurd portrayal of the magic +properties of radium!” + +She saw his lips twitch and his pale eyes grow darker as the pupils +dilated. She knew that what she saw, Corinne must also see, but she +would not shift her glance from Stoner’s self-accusing face. + +“I’m a damn fool to stand here talking to you,” he said, wetting his +lips. “But since you’ve started things, you might as well finish. What +in all creation has that picture got to do with that girl Stella and +the man Murchison?” + +“Everything in creation,” Margot said, smiling. “I’m not accusing you +of having a thing to do with the _theft_ of the radium, Mr. Stoner, +but I do assert that when you wanted to get more realism into your +picture, you thought it would be a fine idea to get hold of some +radium. I haven’t _yet_ mastered all the details of your acquaintance +with Murchison, but I know beyond all doubt, that you tried your best +to get the radium _he’d_ stolen, _knowing_ he’d stolen it, which of +course, makes you an accessory after the crime, Mr. Stoner.” + +He worked his mouth into a twisted, scornful smile, as he said +threateningly: + +“You just try, young lady, making any public charge like the one +you’ve just made.” + +“She won’t have to! _I’ll_ do the charging--to our board of +directors!” Corinne stood up and glared into his astonished eyes. + +Surprise changed to insensate rage as he stared back at his star. + +“You will, will you! Well, you just try it, and see where _you_ get +off!” + +“Oh,” she said calmly, “I expect to get off very well, thank you. I +expect to get a new director for our company who won’t have to consort +with crooks in order to put on pictures and make himself famous.” + +“You’re crazy!” He looked a little that way himself, as his lips and +hands worked convulsively. “What do you think you can prove of this +girl’s wild story? Nothing--absolutely nothing!” + +“Oh, yes she can, Mr. Stoner.” Margot’s voice had velvet in it, and +her smile was sweeter than ever. “You seem to have forgotten that the +girl Stella Ball, although deprived of one arm, thanks to the quarrel +between you and Murchison, still has the perfect use of her eyes--both +of them. She says she could pick you out anywhere, at a single glance. +She’ll never forget you, she says.” + +Lie, little Margot, lie in a good cause! Why not! It was a good and a +safe card to play, for without doubt Stella _would_ recognize Stoner +at a glance, even if she failed to describe him accurately. And the +wild shot went straight home. Stoner seemed to crumble, morally, right +before their eyes. Margot, quick to follow up an advantage, went on +with quiet assurance. + +“You see, Mr. Stoner, you can do one of three things. You’re really +lucky to have so much to choose from, and you really owe that to me. +You can make a break for the open; get out while the getting’s still +good, prove--to our satisfaction--your guilt beyond question, but +escape, perhaps, its penalty. Or you can face your board of directors +and deny my accusations, which will enable _me_ to prove them to +_every_one’s satisfaction. Or--and permit me to suggest that this last +would be your wisest course--you can admit the facts to your board of +directors, plead clemency, which Miss Delamar and I will also plead +for you, take what’s coming to you, so far as getting out of this +company is concerned, and escape the penalty of the law, also the +ignominy of having other film companies hear the truth about you. I’m +sure that if you make it easy for everyone concerned, your board of +directors will agree to keep the story from spreading.” + +Corinne’s large and expressive eyes stared at Margot with an +admiration as sincere as it was obvious. Then the star turned a +haughty glance of dismissal at Stoner. + +“That’s about all, Fred Stoner, except that I’d like to tell you that +I’m fully aware of all the lies you’ve told me, first and last, and if +I do agree to do what Miss Anstruther suggests, and ask the Board to +give you clemency, I want you to understand that it will be because +I’d be afraid that otherwise, your vast and ridiculous conceit would +imagine I was trying to wreak vengeance on you for personal reasons. +And now, please go!” + +He went--without another word--and Margot returned in full measure, +the admiration Corinne had given her. + +“That was very, very clever of you,” she said earnestly. “That last +remark, I mean. I think that between us, Miss Delamar, we’ve been just +a little too much for the gentleman.” + +“Gentleman!” Corinne’s scorn lay too deep for humor or irony. + +“Just a form of speech, my dear. And now let me tell you how very glad +I am that you and I are going to be friends, as of course we shall be +after this. And, by the way, could you fix it up so that I can be +present at the meeting of the board of directors?” + +“Certainly,” Corinne said warmly. “I wouldn’t miss having you there. +In fact, it’s quite necessary that you should be. And I am glad too +that we can be friends. And I’m grateful to you for showing me what an +awful fool I’ve been for taking any stock in that man, or anything +that he’s ever said to me.” + +“Oh, I didn’t mean it that way,” Margot said hastily. “I don’t think +you’ve been a fool at all, but I didn’t want to see you in danger of +being put in a false position.” + +“Very nice of you to put it that way. Well, good-by!” And she took +Margot’s outstretched hand in a friendly clasp of good-fellowship and +trust. + +And that was that, as Margot said to herself, with her ironic and +characteristic manner of disposing of a situation or a problem. + + + + + CHAPTER XVI. + A KING’S RANSOM IN RADIUM + +A telegram from Corinne Delamar, later in the day, advised Margot +that the strategically planned directors’ meeting was to take place +the following morning at eleven, and would Margot please be on hand +without fail. Not that Corinne so described the meeting, but Margot +knew her well enough by this time, to be sure of the strategy implied. + +She decided to telephone Gene to ask him to come to see her the +following evening. For the moment she was weary of discussion and +analysis, and not in the mood for an interview with Gene which was +likely to be rather strenuous, everything considered. Besides, she +would prefer to clean up her “job” as amateur detective--dispose +finally of Stoner--before coming to an understanding with Gene. It did +not occur to her that he might be sulking, or that he could be +anything but eager to answer her summons. + +Her telephone call brought no response. Strange, because Gene was +invariably in his room at that hour, waiting for a call from her. She +rang his number twice more before going to bed. She wondered where he +could be, and a vague uneasiness possessed her. Could he actually be +angry with her to the point of not answering the phone? Funny old +Gene! Well, she’d explain things to-morrow night. + +The next morning she met Corinne in her dressing-room. It was getting +to be a habit, Margot told the star, with her customary whimsicality. + +“Funny, isn’t it!” Corinne laughed, making Margot welcome. “If +anybody’d told me a week ago that you and I would be getting chummy +about anything under the shining sun--Stoner least of all--I’d have +told them to go to an alienist. But here we are, actually in cahoots +to see that our friend gets his just deserts.” She offered her guest a +cigarette, then lighted it for her, adding: “And the funniest part of +the whole thing is that I’m not a bit unhappy about it. It was a shock +at first, but that’s all. I find I’m not really one little bit in love +with Stoner, and I thought I was, you know.” + +“I’m mighty glad you’re not!” Margot said earnestly. “He isn’t fit to +clean your shoes, Miss Delamar.” + +“He never would have.” Corinne looked down at her shoes and laughed +contemptuously. “He’s the kind who, after a few months of marriage, +would let his wife clean _his_ shoes. It’s strange, once you begin +shedding your illusions about a person, how clearly you see every +fault.” + +“Too clearly, I think,” Margot said thoughtfully. “If you’ve begun by +exaggerating a person’s good points, when you begin to wake up you +almost always exaggerate the bad points. I’m quite sure that no man is +ever as good as the woman who loves him believes him to be, and never +as bad as the woman who hates him considers him to be. It’s the same +the other way round.” + +“You’re some little philosopher, aren’t you, Miss Anstruther? No +wonder you ferreted out Stoner’s connection with your mystery. You’re +awfully clever. I wish I were!” + +“If it’s that bad,” laughed Margot, “I’ll have to become a little +_more_ clever and disguise the fact that I _am_ clever. Clever girls +aren’t popular, you know.” + +“Well, _you’re_ popular, so there must be exceptions.” There was no +mistaking Corinne’s sincerity. She was not simply flattering Margot, +with or without design. + +“Everyone here has been awfully kind to me.” It was so trite a remark +that Margot chuckled inwardly at her concession to the commonplace. + +Corinne glanced at her watch. “About ten minutes more, then we’ll have +to go to the board room. Won’t it be amusing seeing Stoner make a fool +of himself--as of course he will, trying to worm himself out of the +corner we’ve got him in!” + +“Does he know about this directors’ meeting?” + +“He does not,” said Corinne with a vicious little dab at her nose with +her powder pad. “Or rather, if he’s heard about it it’s by snooping +round, for he hasn’t been officially notified. You see”--she gave a +sudden laugh--“the directors don’t know themselves. I didn’t want +anything to leak out, so I merely sent a note to our manager, Marx +Klein, saying that there was something of the utmost importance which +I wished to take up with the board of directors to-day, and would he +please call a meeting. He sent back word that he would.” + +“You’ve certainly got the power to make them sit up and take notice, +Miss Delamar.” Margot smiled with frank approval. + +“I’ve got my nerve, perhaps you mean, but it’s this way. When you get +to be a star, you can have as much ‘temperament’ as you like. They +don’t dare squelch it. So when I ask for anything special, they take +for granted that a refusal will mean some kind of a blow-out on my +part, and they don’t dare risk it. I’ve never asked for a board +meeting _before_, so they’re sure it’s something out of the ordinary.” + +“Which it certainly is,” laughed Margot. + +“Well--at least it will mean the official removal of Stoner’s fat +head. A sore head it’ll be before we get through with him.” + +A tap on the door, and the black face of Corinne’s maid, with bright, +bulging eyes, whispering to her mistress that the director would like +to have a few minutes’ conversation with her. Could he come in? + +“Now, what the devil!” Corinne scowled, looking from the maid to +Margot. + +“Do you suppose he’s come to beg for mercy?” Margot whispered. + +“A lot of good it’ll do him! Shall we see him or not?” She seemed to +depend on Margot’s judgment. + +“I think we might as well,” Margot said thoughtfully. “It’s always as +well to hear whatever your enemy--or your victim”--she suppressed a +giggle--“has to say for himself.” + +“All right. Tell him to come in,” Corinne said to the maid. + +Stoner stepped into the small inclosure. If the girls had expected to +see a browbeaten, anxious or suppliant Frederick Stoner, they were +disappointed. His shoulders were straight, his head erect, and his +eyes clear and direct in their gaze, first at one girl, then at the +other. In sheer astonishment at his expression and attitude, Corinne +kept silence. Her face showed her surprise, but Margot’s expression +was not so easy to read. She wondered if he’d come with any sort of a +threat up his sleeve. It would serve no purpose if so. + +“Well,” he said, slowly. “I hear a board meeting is to take place +shortly. I heard of it last night. I’ve got something to say to you +two. I’m not a fool, whatever else you may think me, and I know damn +well that I gave myself away in this very room, yesterday.” He looked +at Margot as he spoke. + +“You certainly did,” she said quickly. + +“But that wouldn’t cut much ice, Miss Anstruther, if you didn’t have +the goods on me in the person of that skinny little thing, Stella +Ball.” Again he paused and stared at her. + +Humph! That impromptu shot of hers had certainly gone home! It was a +good shot, anyway. A legitimate shot! She said quietly: + +“Of course I knew, Mr. Stoner, that you were intelligent enough to +realize just what Stella Ball’s recognition of you and testimony would +mean.” + +“Right. But if I’d been smart enough to bluff you out on your +deductions, and all that tripe that didn’t and couldn’t _prove_ +anything, you’d probably never have thought of the Stella end of it.” + +Margot merely smiled, but her instant thought was that he had more +logic than she had supposed. + +“Did you come here now just for the pleasure of telling us what we +know already--that we’ve got the goods on you?” Corinne’s voice rasped +sharply and baneful yellow lights shone in her green eyes. + +“No, I didn’t,” Stoner snapped at her. “I’ll tell you what I came for. +To tell you that you won’t have the satisfaction of making a fool of +me before any company directors.” He turned to look again at Margot. +“I decided last night to choose an alternative _not_ suggested by you. +I’m going to get out while the getting’s good, but I’m not _sneaking_ +out. And, by the way, Miss Anstruther, you may be interested to hear +that the lovely Lulu is coming out there too.” + +Corinne gave a start, and her eyes drew together in a quick frown as +she stared at Stoner. There was something in his smile that suggested +malice. + +“Why should I be interested particularly in Lulu’s plans?” Margot +asked the question with cool impudence because his smile affected her +unpleasantly. + +He shrugged one shoulder. “Thought you’d be glad to know she’s getting +out of your way.” + +“Out of _my_ way!” Irritation gave way to astonishment. “Just what do +you mean by that, Mr. Stoner?” + +“We--ll----” He rubbed the back of his head in affected embarrassment. +“Valery, you know. Thought you’d be glad to have her out of _his_ +way.” + +Margot regarded him with puzzled eyes, but Corinne’s lips smiled +sneeringly. + +“What perfect rot!” she said disgustedly. + +Stoner turned to her angrily. “Where do you come into this thing? +Margot’s no fool. She must know that Gene Valery is rushing the +Leinster kid. Why, I saw them together at a night club, about one +o’clock this morning.” + +“I believe you’re lying.” Corinne spoke with deceptive gentleness. +“Just when, may I ask, did you engage Lulu to go out to the coast?” + +“Oh--recently,” Stoner said, indicating vagueness of time and space +with a wave of his fat hand. + +From narrowed eyes Corinne watched him, gave a low sound that +suggested a grunt of contempt and disbelief, then turned a friendly +glance upon Margot. + +“Of course, Miss Anstruther, neither you nor I have the slightest +interest in Lulu Leinster’s movements. But we’re very much interested +in Stoner’s. You say,” she said sternly, looking at the director, +“that you’re getting out of here. Just when, may I ask?” + +“Mailed my resignation to the president last night. He got it this +morning. I don’t know what you told them, but from what I gather, you +merely asked to have a meeting called. Well, I’ve got a ticket and +Pullman reservation to California” (he dug into his pocket, brought +forth the tickets and swung them lightly in front of him). “I’m going +straight to Hollywood. Made arrangements at that end by wire. I’m +taking a train in about an hour, at the Penn station. As your idea +seemed to be to get rid of me, I take it you’ll be satisfied with the +little plan I’ve made.” His smile at Corinne was sardonic. + +For a moment she was at loose ends. She threw a worried glance at +Margot. + +“You _did_ tell him you wouldn’t do anything to him if he’d get out, +but what in God’s name will I tell the directors, not to speak of +Klein and the president, Joseph Livingstone.” + +“You can tell ’em anything you please!” Stoner spoke with sudden +fierceness. “Spill _all_ the beans, for all I care! They won’t be able +to get hold of me. Margot said she’d see that the matter’d be dropped +if I’d admit to the directors that what she says is true, and leave +the company. What’s the use taking the president into your sweet +confidence,” his thick lips curled bitterly, “if it’s on the books +that he won’t punish me? I’m going anyway, in five minutes, and nobody +can stop me that I know of.” + +“I agree with Mr. Stoner,” Margot said quietly. “Let him go as he +plans to. Call off the meeting. They’ll just think your temperament’s +working over-time.” She gave Corinne a friendly little smile. + +Deep puckers filled the space between Corinne’s two, rather lovely, +green eyes. Her mouth drew into a straight line, and she took a few +nervous puffs at her cigarette. Then, surprisingly, the expression of +anxious uncertainty changed to a sparkling of the eye, and a smile of +almost childish satisfaction. She threw away her cigarette with a +gesture as of having more vital matters to deal with. + +“I know _just_ what I’ll say to the president and directors! It’s come +to me like a flash!” + +Stoner studied her with dislike in his eyes. + +“Don’t try to spring anything that’ll mean the breaking of Miss +Anstruther’s word to me!” + +“Oh, _you_!” Contempt unspeakable in Corinne’s face and voice. “I +wasn’t even _thinking_ of you that minute!” + +Blank amazement in Stoner’s face and on Margot’s. Then Stoner said, +addressing Margot: + +“I guess that’s about all. As for you, Miss Anstruther, I believe +you’ll do exactly what you said you would--give me a chance to get +out, and drop the case against me. You’re too clever to be anything +but square.” + +She looked at him thoughtfully. His remarks about Gene had obviously +been inspired by jealous malice, and she was inclined to agree with +Corinne that he had lied, although it seemed like rather a silly and +superfluous lie. Well--time for Gene later. No use getting upset by +anything Stoner said. So far as leaving without springing any new +tricks on them was concerned, she decided that he was acting in good +faith. Better let him go and drop everything, although what Corinne +suddenly felt inspired to tell the directors she couldn’t imagine. She +addressed Stoner quietly. + +“All right, Mr. Stoner. You can count on my word. Hollywood is a +comfortably long ways off. You’re wise in going there. But I’d like to +ask you to tell me something before you go. Two questions. First, how +did you first get in touch with Murchison? I’d like to know.” + +Stoner hesitated, then said slowly: “Might as well tell you. He came +to me a year ago, with some stones he wanted to sell. Heard I was +staging a costume play, and offered me a ruby for such a nominal sum +that it made me suspicious at once. I didn’t want anything to do with +stolen goods, and told him so, flat. He pulled a long, sad face, and a +long, unconvincing story. Said a rich friend had died and left him the +stones. Then he told me he was employed at the Fellowe Institute, and +said I could call up and verify that fact. I told him I’d do that and +then get in touch with him if I wanted to buy anything from him. So I +called up the Institute, found he was employed there all right--their +description of the old duck tallied with mine. But somehow that didn’t +convince me that he hadn’t stolen those stones. It sounded phony and +what he asked for them was ridiculous. Why, any jeweler would have +given four times as much and I told him so. He said he didn’t want to +bother with jewelers. So I dropped the matter.” + +Stoner stopped to light a cigarette, and Margot said quickly: + +“And when you read in the papers about the theft of the radium you +remembered Murchison, and you had a hunch he’d taken it?” + +“Right. But Murchison came to my mind in connection with radium, only +because I got stumped trying to make a realistic scene in that picture +of mine, _The Masque of Life_. So I looked him up, and at first he +denied all knowledge of the radium. But I offered such a whacking +price for it--I thought at first I wanted to buy, but decided that +would be too dangerous, it was a veritable king’s ransom in +radium--that he weakened and admitted that he had it. The rest I guess +you know.” + +“Second question, Mr. Stoner. What makes you suppose that you won’t be +brought back here from California, when Murchison’s trial takes place, +about six weeks from now? Are you so sure he won’t peach on you?” + +“Dead sure!” Stoner spoke with conviction. “I’ll tell you why. I +arranged with Murchison in the beginning, that if anything happened +about the radium and he got caught, if he’d agree to keep me out of +it--never mention my name to a soul--I’d put ten thousand in the bank +for him. And I’ll do just that. In fact it’s done. I made all +arrangements the day after he was arrested. The minute the trial’s +over, if he’s kept his mouth shut, he’ll get notice that the money’s +in the bank in his name. If he squeals, he’ll get nothing, and it +won’t do _him_ any good to drag me into it. No matter what they could +do to me, it wouldn’t go easier with him for having dragged me into +it. _He_ stole the radium. I had nothing to do with that. He’ll go up +for that anyway, and a wad in the bank at his convenience, when he +gets out of jail, won’t be anything to sneeze at. So _that’s_ why I’m +so sure I won’t be dragged back from Hollywood--that is, if _you_ play +the game as I believe you will, Miss Anstruther.” + +“I’ll play it just that way,” she said quietly. “Good-by, Mr. Stoner. +I advise your sticking to romance in the pictures you direct. It won’t +require the assistance of science to aid realism.” The smile she gave +him, although conveying a mocking taunt, was not unfriendly. He struck +her suddenly as so much more a fool than a knave, even in his +childishly malicious gossip about Gene. + +Abruptly he stuck out his large hand. “Will you shake on it, Miss +Anstruther, just to show there’s no hard feeling?” + +“Certainly!” She gave him her hand and he shook it with a great show +of sexless cordiality. That was for Corinne’s benefit. + +He turned to go, without so much as a glance at Corinne. She said +sharply: + +“You’re darn lucky you have to deal with a girl as square as Margot +Anstruther. Even if I wanted to play you a mean trick, she wouldn’t +let me do it.” + +“Don’t need to remind me,” he said, with an ugly look at the star, +“that you’d play me a dirty trick if you dared. But _she’ll_ see to +that!” And the next instant the door closed behind him. + +“Dirty dog!” It was Corinne’s irrepressible but final disposal of the +man for whom her love had turned to hate. + +Margot, with her unquenchable sense of humor, said, with a smile she +tried to keep from spreading into a roguish grin: + +“That gives you the last word. Now forget him! He’s really occupied +more time and space in my young life than he’s worth, except that he’s +furnished me with considerable amusement, first and last.” + +“Well, I don’t see it--the amusement part. But, as you say, forget +him! Only there’s one little matter I’m not quite through with, that +is about Lulu Leinster. I signed her up last week, for a part in my +new picture. She may have played me a nasty trick, but I doubt it. I +believe Stoner sprung that stuff about her going out to the coast, +just to spite you, because you’d cornered him. I’m pretty sure it’s a +lie, and I’m dead sure the part about seeing her with Gene _was_ a +lie.” + +Margot moved restlessly. “That’s of no importance, is it, but it is +important whether she’s broken her contract with you.” + +“I’ll soon find out. I’ll send for her to come here.” + +Corinne summoned her maid and directed that she request Miss Leinster +to meet Miss Delamar in her dressing-room within a half hour. + +“And now for the board meeting,” she said cheerfully, rising. “We’re +late, of course, but they’ll wait. Just watch them jump to their big +flat feet, and bow and scrape as if I’d done them an honor by keeping +them waiting.” + +“But, Miss Delamar,” Margot hung back, “whatever your business is with +the directors, you won’t need _me_ now.” + +“I most certainly will!” Corinne put her hand on Margot’s arm, and +pushed her toward the door. “Now, more than before, if you only knew!” +And then she laughed into Margot’s questioning eyes. + +“But--I don’t understand. You’re going to drop the case of Stoner +altogether, you said?” + +“I am! But I didn’t say I was going to drop _your_ case, did I?” + +Margot was puzzled. She didn’t know Corinne well, after all. What on +earth was she driving at? However, she, Margot, had nothing to +conceal--except for the sake of her promise to Stoner--and her +curiosity was aroused. Also she wasn’t a quitter. If Corinne wanted +her to go with her to that board meeting, why she’d go! + +“You won’t tell me why you want me to go with you,” she temporized +once more. + +“You’ll find out quick enough. Come on, please, Miss Anstruther! Have +a heart and don’t let us keep the poor things waiting any longer!” + +So they hurried--until they reached the door of the board room. Then +Corinne put on her most nonchalant manner, and walked into the room as +if royalty itself had arrived with, as it were, a blowing of silver +trumpets and a tinkling of silver bells. Even Margot was impressed, +not by the star’s importance, but by the way she got away with it. +Every man in the room rose to his feet, bowing obsequiously, with +broad and admiring smiles centered on Corinne. A few glances wavered +in Margot’s direction, and all eyes were focussed on her, as their +star, with a little wave of her hand in Margot’s direction, said very +sweetly: + +“Some of you have had the pleasure of meeting Miss Anstruther, some of +you haven’t, but of course you’ve _all_ heard about her fine work as +_Conchita_, in _A Toreador’s Love_!” + +The men bowed to Margot, who gave to each of them a frank, personal +smile of acknowledgment, and a slight inclination of her head. +Corinne, without another glance at anyone, sat herself on the chair +put forward for her, crossed her knees, and beckoned to Margot to sit +beside her. It really was amusing, this stardom! If Corinne hadn’t +acquired the status of star, even her talent--and she had +talent--would not have commanded any particular respect from these +men, accustomed as they were to rather cavalier methods with the girls +in their employ. But Corinne was not only a good little actress; she +had her own increasing number of fans, and she was an asset to the +Superfilm Company. Margot felt that it was a definite accomplishment, +and she looked at Corinne with new respect. + +“Well, Miss Delamar, you wished to have a meeting called to transact +some important business. But first let me tell you that Frederick +Stoner has run out on us. His resignation reached us this morning.” + +Joseph Livingstone’s small eyes focussed on Corinne. Margot, +accustomed to reading human eyes, and finding it easy in so heavy a +countenance as that of Livingstone, understood that he was wondering +if a love-quarrel between the star and the director were the cause of +his sudden resignation. + +Corinne turned upon the president a wide, innocent gaze of such +complete astonishment--such convincing surprise--that Margot bit her +lip, and looked quickly down at her lap. It would be awful if she were +to giggle or even smile in the august presence, and at that particular +moment. Corinne appeared far too amazed for speech. Joseph +Livingstone, apparently afraid of some temperamental outburst, said +hurriedly: + +“Of course we’ll go on just the same. We’ve got plenty of good +directors. And now, Miss Delamar, what can I do for you?” + +Corinne’s expression changed to frank and disarming friendliness. She +said sweetly: + +“By doing what I ask, Mr. Livingstone, you will be doing something for +your company. I haven’t come here to ask a favor for myself. First, I +wish to call your attention to the marked talent Miss Anstruther has +shown in her work with us. You will agree with me, I’m sure?” + +Margot looked at Corinne with an amazement which she had difficulty in +disguising. Joseph Livingstone rubbed his beringed hands, and said: + +“I certainly agree with you, Miss Delamar. The young lady shows +decided promise. We think she has considerable talent.” + +“Well, Mr. President,” Corinne smiled directly at him. “I now want to +call your attention to another important point. Miss Anstruther has +acquired, in the last few days, much publicity, of a kind that does an +actress a lot of good with the public. This publicity will be +invaluable, not only to her, but to me and to the whole company. Do +you understand, Mr. Livingstone?” + +“I get your point.” Livingstone’s eyes looked suddenly more alive. + +“I’m sure you do,” Corinne said warmly. “And I’m sure you’ll _all_ +agree with my suggestion that you star Miss Anstruther, just as soon +as _A Toreador’s Love_ is finished!” She threw bright, eager glances +around the room. + +Margot stared at Corinne in a surprise so intense that she forgot to +disguise it, but all eyes were fixed on the star. + +“But,” gasped Joseph Livingstone, “I was thinking--we all +thought--that you and this young lady were not good friends.” + +“How funny!” Corinne’s smile was genius--pure and simple genius, +Margot decided. “We’re the very _best_ of friends, and I admire Miss +Anstruther so much that I made up my mind to have a frank talk with +you, and try to make _you_ see what _I_ see so clearly.” + +“Well, well, you take me by surprise, Miss Delamar. But, after all, +why not? Only we’ll have to find a picture for her.” + +“Oh, that’s easy!” Corinne threw her beaming smile once more around +the room, then let it rest on Margot. “The title of the picture will +be _The Haunting Hand_, and the story will be the mystery of the arm, +and the strange lights in her room. It will make a _wonderful_ +picture!” + +“Fine! Fine!” The President again rubbed his white, short-fingered, +carefully manicured hands. + +There were murmurs of approval, and glances of admiration bestowed on +Margot, who sat without a word, far too overcome with genuine +gratitude to Corinne for any casual acceptance of her kindness and +generosity. A few more remarks, a few more smiles and bows, and the +two girls left the board room. Outside they stood still and looked at +each other. Margot put out her hand and gripped Corinne’s. + +“I don’t know why you did it, but you’re a little brick and I’m +honestly so grateful that I haven’t words to tell you how I feel about +it, Miss Delamar!” + +Corinne returned the pressure of Margot’s fingers, then she said +slowly: + +“Well, to be honest, I do like you immensely, and I admire you and +your work. You’ve got real talent. But I suppose--and an honest +confession is good for the soul--I suppose that I’m so darn glad you +put it all over Stoner, and opened my eyes for fair, regarding his +conduct in general, that I felt there wasn’t anything too much I could +find to do for you. That’s the God’s truth about it!” + +And Margot knew that it was, looking into those strange green eyes +with their yellow lights. + +In Corinne’s dressing-room they found Lulu Leinster smoking a +cigarette, stretched at ease in the one comfortable chair. She rose +languidly and smiled greetings to the star and to Margot. + +Without preamble Corinne went to the point. + +“Are you going out to the coast engaged by Stoner?” + +The utter amazement in Lulu’s large blue eyes was sufficient reply to +Corinne’s question, without the astonished “No!” that followed. + +Corinne flashed a look at Margot, then she said: + +“He told me he’d signed you up to go out there. I was sure you +wouldn’t play me such a trick, but I thought I’d put it right up to +you.” + +“Why, he must be a terrible liar, Miss Delamar, to say such a thing. +He _asked_ me to go out there and offered me something good if I’d go, +but I told him I’d signed up with you and that I’d rather stay here +with you.” + +“Good child!” Corinne patted her hand. “As he’s such a picturesque +liar, I dare say he lied when he told us he’d seen you and Gene Valery +in a night club last night--or rather early this morning.” Corinne’s +inflection seemed to state a fact rather than ask a question. + +Lulu’s fair skin grew slowly pink and she made a nervous pretense of +flicking the ashes from her cigarette. Without raising her eyes she +said a little unevenly: + +“Mr. Stoner did see me last night with Gene Valery.” + +Margot’s pulse beat suddenly very fast, but her eyes and mouth were +under control when Corinne’s astonished gaze flew to her, in +embarrassed uncertainty. + +“Well----” The exclamation came from Corinne in a gasp of annoyance at +being put in a false position. “That’s funny! Since when have you and +Gene Valery been such friends?” + +“Why, we’re _all_ good friends,” Margot broke in eagerly, “aren’t we, +Lulu?” + +Lulu gave her a sidelong glance, then she said laconically: + +“Sure thing.” + +“I didn’t know,” persisted Corinne with a frown, “that you and Gene +were _particular_ friends.” + +Lulu said nothing for a second, then she threw Margot an enigmatic +little smile. + +“Suppose you ask Gene what sort of ‘particular’ friends we are, +Margot. I’m sure he’ll tell you. Well----” she turned to the star, “if +that’s all you want of me, Miss Delamar, guess I’ll run along.” + +Margot gave her an unusually bright smile, but Corinne said rather +crossly: + +“Run along, by all means.” + +After Lulu had gone, Corinne threw herself into the easy chair, +lighted a cigarette, and asked Margot to sit down. + +“Thanks, but I’ll have to be running along myself. I can’t tell you, +Miss Delamar, how I appreciate your interest in me. You’re really +awfully good to me.” The look in her eyes conveyed to Corinne the fact +that her loyalty to Margot in the matter of Gene and Lulu had not been +wasted. + +“See here, my dear.” Corinne spoke slowly between puffs on her +cigarette. “I wouldn’t, if I were you, pay any attention to that +‘tripe’--to borrow one of Stoner’s pet vulgarities--about Gene and +Lulu. If he was with that little mutton-head last night, there was +some good reason for it, which he’ll tell you quick enough. Don’t take +it seriously.” + +“Why should I!” Margot laughed, with a gaiety that did not deceive +Corinne. Then she said good-by and departed. + +On her way to the train she deliberated whether or not to take any +initiative where Gene was concerned. The suspicion had come to her, +that he was angry and hurt, far more seriously than she had imagined +possible--that is, assuming that he was sincere in his protests of +love for her. A faint doubt on this point pricked her consciousness +with uneasy reminders of Lulu’s enigmatic smile. Could it be possible +that Gene was like the majority of men! + +At last Margot faced the unpleasant conviction that she was miserable +at the very idea of Gene’s insincerity being a possible factor in the +situation. She shrank from acknowledging to herself that she felt +jealousy of Lulu Leinster, for jealousy is an admission of +inferiority. But it actually came to that, if she were to be honest +with herself. She _was_ jealous--horribly jealous--and miserable as +she had never supposed she could be over a man. + +Well--she’d been rather silly, playing a waiting game with Gene, and +pretending not to take him seriously, and it was up to her to give him +the benefit of the doubt. She’d send for him and ask him frankly about +Lulu. If, in so doing, she would run a risk of showing Gene how much +she really loved him, surely it was worth the risk. She sent him a +telegram from Astoria to come and take her out to dinner, then she +hurried back to town. + + + + + CHAPTER XVII. + “BETTER THAN BROTHERLY!” + +The door of Margot’s room shut out the rest of the world, and she +and Gene stood looking at each other. + +He had come at her bidding, a little reluctantly it had seemed to her, +but she had greeted him with gay insouciance and had delicately +skirted the edge of personalities during the dinner hour. + +She had told him of the encounter with Stoner the preceding day; of +his unexpected appearance that morning, and his frank avowal of guilt; +of Corinne’s amazing attitude toward herself, and of the final outcome +so far as the president and directors were concerned. She had actually +made him laugh with her humorous treatment of events and the persons +motivating them. She had caught a quick frown at her description of +Stoner’s friendly parting with her in Corinne’s dressing-room, and her +heart had beaten a little faster. Why should Gene frown at mention of +Stoner unless he were actually in love with her? + +It was all told, and as they stood facing each other, behind her +closed door, there was nothing between her and Gene except mutual +doubt and suspicion. + +“Well,” she began lightly, sparring for time, “I hope I didn’t butt +into any of your plans for this evening by sending for you, Gene.” + +“Is that supposed to be funny?” he said sternly, looking at her with +unhappy eyes. + +“‘Funny!’” She gave a nervous laugh. “Why, no. I’m quite serious. Come +on, let’s sit down. I hate talking standing up.” + +She moved to the divan and he took a chair a few feet away and sat +down a little stiffly, Margot thought. + +She saw that he was not going to help her out, and with sudden +irritation she said abruptly: + +“I thought _possibly_ you might have an engagement for to-night with +Lulu Leinster.” + +He bent forward and looked at her intently. + +“So--that big stiff, that cad, told you he saw us last night.” + +“He mentioned it--casually.” Margot tapped the end of an unlighted +cigarette with elaborate unconcern. Then she flashed him a sudden +glance of assumed surprise. “Why was it such a horrible faux-pas for +him to have mentioned it?” + +“You know that wasn’t what I meant,” Gene said quietly. “Some other +man might have mentioned a thing like that--‘casually,’ as you call +it--but not Stoner. He had some mean motive or he wouldn’t have +bothered to talk about us.” + +“Well--perhaps,” Margot conceded slowly. “However, the interesting +fact is that you _were_ with Lulu last night. You see, Stoner told us +that Lulu was going out with him, or after him, to the coast, and it +seems that Corinne had signed her up for her next picture, so she was +sure Stoner had lied. She sent for Lulu and questioned her, and to my +annoyance asked her if it were true that Stoner had seen you two +together last night. Lulu said it was. So that was that. I’m just +amused, you know, for I hadn’t supposed you cared enough for the +little prize beauty to spend an hour with her, voluntarily.” + +“You know damn well I don’t.” Gene’s unexpected violence was rather +startling. He stared at her with somber eyes. + +“Then what, may I ask, just in passing, happened to bring about the +little party last night?” + +“See here, Margot, I don’t know that you have the right to question +me, considering your _sisterly_ interest in me, but I’ll tell you what +there is to tell, because I’m fool enough to care tremendously what +you think of me, regardless of loving me.” + +Margot lowered her eyes quickly. She was afraid of what Gene might +read in them, and she wasn’t quite ready for her own confession. + +“When I left you, night before last, I made up my mind that I couldn’t +stand your little cat-and-mouse game any longer. Something rose up in +me against your treatment of me. I couldn’t stand it any longer,” he +repeated himself helplessly. “It seemed to be clear enough that you +didn’t and never would care for me as I wanted you to. I was pretty +miserable. Last evening I happened to run into Lulu on Broadway. It +struck me she wasn’t looking very cheerful herself. On a sudden +impulse I asked her to spend the evening somewhere with me. She +agreed. I admit, frankly, I tried desperately hard to work up a +flirtation with her. She realized just what an effort I was making and +she laughed at me. Finally she got me started about you and I spilled +over, told her everything and she gave me the sympathy I needed. +That’s all there was to it, Margot.” + +She studied him for a moment, then she said gently: + +“Are you sure that’s all there was to it, on her side?” + +Gene gave a sudden laugh. “_Ask_ her,” he said briefly. “Why, she’s so +in love with some nut in the company, who’s got a wife and three kids, +that she can’t _see_ any other man. I gave a little good advice and I +believe it got under her skin. Hope so, anyway.” + +With her heart beating faster and her eyes glowing with excitement, +Margot tried to speak calmly. + +“Do you remember my saying that after disposing of Stoner and my +mystery, there was something else of importance I had to attend to?” + +“Yes, I remember,” he said, frowning at her. “Something of vital +importance, before you could pay any attention to _me_.” + +She smiled at him, mockery on her lips, tender challenge in her deep +gray eyes. He got up quickly and stood looking down at her, where she +lay against the cushions. + +“For God’s sake, Margot, stop playing with me!” + +“Silly, silly old thing!” she said softly. “It never remotely occurred +to you that the ‘important’ thing I hinted at so mysteriously +was--well, my dear, just--you and me.” + +He threw himself beside her and leaned over her, speaking fiercely. + +“You said you’d let me kiss you as a _brother_, and for the last time. +What the devil did you mean?” + +“I meant--that the next time you kissed me, I’d want it to be as--my +lover. Then you became a caveman, and--and I _liked_ it, but you +banged out of the room without waiting to find out.” + +He stared at her a second, then he gave a low cry and seized her in +his arms. He kissed her, eyes and throat and mouth, in an ecstasy of +joy and of passion long restrained. + +“Darling--darling! I never dreamed--I was afraid even to hope. I love +you so, Margot, I adore you.” + +Between his kisses she managed to tell him that she had known beyond +all possibility of doubt, just how deeply she loved him, when he had +given way to his emotions, in that very room two nights before, and +had kissed her as no man had ever kissed her before and as, she could +assure him, no _other_ man would ever kiss her. + +“I didn’t have to kiss you to know what I felt for you.” He studied +her face with rapturous intentness. “Women are funny. A man wants to +kiss a woman _because_ he loves her, or rather _if_ he loves her, and +a woman loves a man because he kisses her.” + +Margot laughed. “Not quite that, dear. Stoner didn’t arouse my passion +by kissing me.” + +Gene drew her closer with a sudden access of possessive jealousy. + +“Damn Stoner. Don’t remind me that he ever touched you.” + +“That reminds me,” she said softly. “Another awakening I had in regard +to my love for you, Gene, was when I suddenly realized I was miserably +jealous of Lulu. Then I _knew_, even better than I did after your +caveman exhibition, how much I loved you.” + +“I’m terribly flattered, darling, but it does strike me as grotesque, +being jealous of that girl. However, I’m mighty glad I ran into her +the other night, if it made you a little surer of your love for me.” + +The first hour of love’s abandonment to the joy and thrill of mutual +understanding, made the blood tingle in Margot’s cheeks, and her lips +were tremulous and moist with the first tempest of emotion she had +ever experienced. At last she drew a little out of her lover’s arms +and studied his eager, sensitive face. Suddenly a smile drew up the +corners of her mouth, and she put soft fingers against his lips. + +“I’ll believe anything, anything at all you tell me, about adoring me +and how beautiful I am, but don’t you dare ever tell me again that I +could never grow old or ugly in your eyes.” + +He laughed and pressed his lips against her hair. + +“But it’s the truth. Perhaps we’ll both live long enough for me to +prove it to you, sweetheart.” + +“And there’s just one other thing I’d rather not have you say, Gene. +Tell me you love me, as often as you like, but never say you’ll +_always_ love me. Men are always telling women that, and how can +anyone promise such a thing! Live it, Gene--by all means _live_ +it--but don’t _say_ it. It might spoil our luck.” + +“Fat chance,” he said, with more eloquence of tone than of language. + +“By the way, Gene.” She gave him one of her brilliant roguish smiles. +“It’ll be rather nice, after we’re married--I won’t have to call you +by phone if I should get scared by a spook.” + +“You little devil!” He gave her a quick hug. “You whimsical darling!” + +“‘Whimsical,’” she repeated softly. “That’s rather nice. You never +called me that before.” + +“Haven’t I? Well, I’ve often thought it. It describes you better than +anything else. It’s the thing about you that will never let you grow +old or ugly. I _will_ say it, for it’s true. It’s the thing so few +women possess, and that charms and holds a man longer than beauty or +wit or even,” he added with a laugh, “a good disposition, and God +knows that’s important enough.” + +“Here, here! I guess, after all, if that’s the way you feel about it, +I’ll let you say--just this once--that you’ll love me forever and +ever.” + +And Gene’s reply, swift and silent, far better than a brotherly kiss, +was more eloquent than any words could have been. + + [The End] + + + + + TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES + +Minor spelling inconsistencies (e.g. caveman/cave-man, dressing +room/dressing-room, etc.) have been preserved. + +Alterations to the text: + +Fix one quotation mark pairing. + +[Chapter VII] + +Change “The headlines of the early _editon_ greeted her” to _edition_. + + [End of text] + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78094 *** diff --git a/78094-h/78094-h.htm b/78094-h/78094-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..370953c --- /dev/null +++ b/78094-h/78094-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10336 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + The haunting hand | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +/* Headers and Divisions */ + h1, h2, h3, h4 {margin:4em 0em 1em 0em; page-break-before:always; text-align:center;} + +/* General */ + + body {margin:0% 5% 0% 5%;} + + .nobreak {margin:2em auto 1em auto; page-break-before:avoid;} + + p {margin:0em 0em 0em 0em; text-align:justify; text-indent:1em;} + .center {margin:0em 0em 0em 0em; text-align:center; text-indent:0em;} + .noindent {text-indent:0em;} + + .toc_l {font-variant:small-caps; margin:0em 0em 0em 2em; text-indent:-2em;} + + .rt1 {margin:0em 1em 0em 0em; text-align:right; text-indent:0em;} + + .chap_sub {font-size:80%;} + .font80 {font-size:80%;} + .sc {font-variant:small-caps;} + +/* special formatting */ + + blockquote {margin:1em 2em 1em 2em;} + + .mt1 {margin-top:1em;} + .mt4 {margin-top:4em;} + + figure {margin:auto; padding:1em 1em 1em 1em; text-align:center;} + figcaption {font-size:80%; padding:0 2em 0 2em; text-align:center;} + +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78094 ***</div> + +<figure> + <a href="images/img_fp.jpg"> + <img src="images/img_fp_th.jpg" alt="Frontispiece"> + </a> + <figcaption> + Stricken with terror, Margot watched a small, thin hand, then a + forearm reach from under her bed. + </figcaption> +</figure> + + +<h1> +THE<br> +HAUNTING HAND +</h1> + +<p class="center"> +<span class="font80">By</span><br> +W. ADOLPHE ROBERTS +</p> + +<p class="center mt1"> +<span class="font80">Frontispiece by</span><br> +GEORGE W. GAGE +</p> + +<p class="center mt4"> +<span class="font80">NEW YORK</span><br> +THE MACAULAY COMPANY +</p> + + +<h2> +[COPYRIGHT] +</h2> + +<p class="center"> +<i>Copyright, 1926<br> +By The Macaulay Company</i> +</p> + + +<h2> +[DEDICATION] +</h2> + +<p class="center"> +DEDICATED TO<br> +FLORENCE M. OSBORNE. +</p> + + +<h2> +CONTENTS +</h2> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch01">I. Movie Men and Mannequins</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch02">II. The Grisly Hand and the Flame</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch03">III. A Creature Without a Body</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch04">IV. Mounting Mystery</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch05">V. Weird Suspicions</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch06">VI. The Midnight Prowler</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch07">VII. Spooks and the Press</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch08">VIII. The Claws of Jealousy</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch09">IX. Hidden Motives</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch10">X. A Witness from the Dead</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch11">XI. Whose Hand?</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch12">XII. Stella’s Story</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch13">XIII. Will-o’-the-Wisp</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch14">XIV. Love’s Alarm</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch15">XV. Stoner’s Share</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch16">XVI. A King’s Ransom in Radium</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch17">XVII. “Better Than Brotherly!”</a> +</p> + + +<h2> +THE HAUNTING HAND +</h2> + +<h3 class="nobreak" id="ch01"> +CHAPTER I.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">MOVIE MEN AND MANNEQUINS</span> +</h3> + +<p> +<span class="sc">Mid</span> October, with its tang, and the blazoned glory of its skies and +sun and tawny trees! Margot Anstruther thanked a kind fate that she +could live these brilliant, exhilarating days out of doors. Had she +been confined to office or classroom, her restless spirit would have +carried her body with it, in reckless escape. Long Island—where the +Superfilm Company studio spread over the landscape—although not +precisely the Maine woods or sea, or the open spaces of her own +wide-flung West, at least spelled trees and grass and fresh air. +</p> + +<p> +Margot stood on the diminutive roof-garden of her New York home, +watching the moon rise over the house-tops. It was eight o’clock and +her guests would soon arrive. She hoped that Gene Valery would come +before the others. It was pleasant to be loved so ardently by Gene, +but she surmised that it would be pleasanter if she could love as +ardently in return. At any rate, his friendship was invaluable. He was +the only one with whom she could share her mental gymnastics, the +aspect of her mind which others would regard as rather too serious for +human nature’s daily food. +</p> + +<p> +She had Gene to thank for her tiny roof-garden. It was one of those +quaint affairs, a covering built over the yard, to be found in many an +old New York house. Gene had rigged up a trellis and had brought +potted palms and a South American hammock. For to-night he had hung +Japanese lanterns. Margot had already lighted them. That small, mock +garden took the curse, so to speak, off her lodging-house quarters, +which consisted of one large, high-ceilinged room, in which she slept, +ate—her breakfasts—and had her being. +</p> + +<p> +She cut short her transport over the moon, stepped across the +door-sill into the room, and cast critical eyes over her domain. A +brass bed in one far corner was concealed by a screen, which Gene had +made and she had decorated. The effect was rather good. She had +recently acquired a divan, with many cushions, large and soft and +gaily colored. Against one wall was a chest of drawers, a Chinese +scarf over its battered top, a brass jar at one end, and a pewter +candlestick with orange candle, at the other. The walls were a muddy +gray, but there was a Japanese print here and there, and bright +cretonne at the windows and on the wicker chairs. +</p> + +<p> +Flanking the old-fashioned fireplace were her bookcases, built and +painted by Gene. As catholic in her literary tastes as in her choice +of friends, Margot’s books presented a varied diet; fiction ranging +from Kipling to Anatole France, poetry from Dante to Millay. A +desk-table and an old console table—her own acquisitions—with carved +wood book-racks for a few modern novels, and a bit of brass or copper; +and two much worn but softly blended Oriental rugs thrown over the +antiquated carpet, almost hiding its ugliness. Margot had achieved +distinction, beauty and a subtle charm, in a room which previous +tenants of the old lodging-house must have accepted as irretrievably +barren and sordid. +</p> + +<p> +She glanced in her four-foot mirror and patted her hair. It looked +redder than usual in the light from the candles and from the +yellow-shaded electric lamp over by the table. She flicked a speck of +dust from the mirror-frame, gave a little twist to her soft, straight +hung dress of corn color silk, then glanced toward the lanterns +swinging in the evening breeze. Yes—it was all rather nice, but she +was especially grateful for the roof-garden. Of course, a chilly +October night could not be expected to lend exotic warmth to the +scene, but in the room, the logs would be burning. +</p> + +<p> +Six weeks since she had first met her expected guests: Frederick +Stoner, the director of the Superfilm Company, with his strange, pale +eyes; May Cheshire, the little blond girl who had been the first to +inspire Margot with a desire to get into pictures; Lulu Leinster, the +prize-beauty-contest winner from Texas, whose large brown eyes, +beautifully chiseled lips and exquisite skin and yellow hair would +have been assets in any profession. These three, and others, men and +girls of the company, whose admiring friendship Margot had won during +the past six weeks of work in the great studio of the Superfilm +Company. Gene Valery was an older friend. That he happened to be an +efficient young camera man with the same company was a pleasing +coincidence. +</p> + +<p> +Six weeks! A mere point in time, but they had been constructive weeks. +To her own satisfaction and to that of her director, it had been +proved that she had histrionic talent of a high order and that she +screened admirably. Of no less significance the fact that she knew +now, beyond all doubt, not only what she could do, but what she wanted +to do. The absurd thing was that she should originally have chosen +science as her profession! Mentally equipped she might be for +scientific work, but oh, how much more interesting it was to act! +Certainly more remunerative. That morning in June, when she had +applied for work and been taken on as an “extra” by the International, +had supplied not only a little extra cash for her summer vacation but +the fillip to her vague ambition to be a screen actress. And here she +was, at twenty-five, launched on her career. +</p> + +<p> +Her laboratory work would not be wasted; nothing excellent was ever +wasted, she knew, and she was grateful for any acquisitive experience +which she owed to her college course. But mental activities on the +side, she would regard as a hobby; for an actress she was by +temperament, and a good actress she proposed to be by intelligent use +of her powers. +</p> + +<p> +Funny, how Stoner had engaged her that day, and given her a real part +in the new picture, <i>A Toreador’s Love</i>! Funny how he had chosen her, +instead of the lovely Lulu, for apparently no good reason! When Lulu +proceeded to weep and look like a piece of broken Dresden china, he +had weakened to the extent of giving the latter a very small rôle, +but it was still a mystery to Margot why he had given <i>her</i> the +important part for which she and Lulu—and many others—had applied, +in response to an advertisement. She had forgotten, or hadn’t had +time, to tell Gene about it. She must remember to tell him sometime. +It would amuse him and perhaps he’d be able to dispel the vague sense +of mystery aroused in her by Stoner, with his strange pale eyes, from +that first moment when she had given him her name and address. +</p> + +<p> +Margot smiled, recalling Gene’s absurd jealousy of Frederick Stoner. +Ridiculous to suppose that she could ever give the director a second +thought except in relation to her work. He wasn’t a bad sort, really, +but his rather brutish good looks repelled her. And he was a good +director, although, as everyone had told her, he belonged to the old +school of directors; very old-fashioned in his methods. There were +few, if any, of his kind left in the motion picture industry, for +which those working under him were devoutly thankful. Stoner’s notion +of discipline was to shout his orders and conduct himself generally as +if everything were melodrama. +</p> + +<p> +Gene was rather annoying with his jealous suspicions. She didn’t dare +tell him that she endured Stoner’s boring attentions as much for +Gene’s sake as for her own. Stoner had never liked Gene, and now he +made his dislike very evident. If she were to let it become obvious +that she preferred Gene’s friendship to Stoner’s, the director would +be quite capable of discharging him and queering him with other +directors and managers. Men often did contemptible things out of +jealousy. If she explained all this to Gene, ten to one he would +resign, just when his chances for promotion were so good. Gene was a +rank outsider. He had been taken on almost by accident and retained +because he was so amazingly clever with the camera. But all the +cleverness in the world wouldn’t help you if you were an outsider and +an influential director considered you undesirable. +</p> + +<p> +Speaking of jealousy! She smiled again, remembering that the only +member of the cast of <i>A Toreador’s Love</i>, who had declined her +invitation for to-night, was the star, Corinne Delamar. To be sure, +she was younger than Corinne—somewhat—and perhaps prettier, but +there was no reason for fearing that she had designs upon the +director. Margot had treated Corinne with consistent and amiable +courtesy, but had made no attempt to overcome her antagonism, by +catering to her up-stage exactions. In token of her good-will and to +celebrate her success in the Superfilm’s new picture, she had asked +them all to her informal home for a “party.” The word covered a +multitude of sins—of excess or boredom. Silly of Corinne not to come! +Silly of her to advertise her jealousy of Margot! There had been +gossip about it already, some of it a trifle malicious. +</p> + +<p> +At that point in her rapid reflections, Gene appeared, carrying a +bunch of yellow roses. He brought candy also, and cigarettes, and a +bottle or two under his arm. Gene was tall, clear-skinned and plain of +feature, except for his blue eyes. He was well knit, had brilliant +teeth and a smile which made one forget that his mouth was too wide +and his nose crooked—it had been broken in a football game. At times +his smile quickened his face to actual beauty. +</p> + +<p> +With bright eyes smiling in unison with her red, parted lips, Margot +watched him unwrap his packages. Then he stood looking at her, longing +to take her in his arms, and daring only to stare at her adoringly. +</p> + +<p> +“You <i>are</i> a darling, Gene!” Her voice cooed at him, and she took a +step nearer, smiling at him. +</p> + +<p> +Well, that wasn’t so bad in the way of a greeting, his expansive smile +told her. +</p> + +<p> +“And <i>you</i> are a darling—an exquisite darling!” +</p> + +<p> +She went a little nearer to him. +</p> + +<p> +“If you won’t muss me, and won’t get too rapturous, I’ll let you kiss +me—<i>once</i>—just to give you a good start for the evening.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sweetheart!” Impetuously he tried to put an arm around her, then, +gingerly, as she drew away with a laugh of warning, he put his hands +on her shoulders and bending down, kissed her lips. It was a kiss +pregnant with emotion but short-lived, as she freed herself, with +another gay laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“Look, Gene! You haven’t even noticed my new divan and my lovely +cushions.” +</p> + +<p> +He glanced at the divan without interest, turned his gaze back to +Margot, and seeing her mouth droop in disappointment, he made an +effort to smile approval. +</p> + +<p> +“Bully, darling! It adds fifty per cent to this room.” His eyes roved +about. “Color scheme’s fine!” His wandering glance reached the corner +where the screen did not entirely conceal the large brass bed. “Why on +earth don’t you get rid of that incubus?” +</p> + +<p> +Margot’s smile clouded. “Now, you don’t imagine I keep it for sheer +love of the beastly thing? I told Mrs. Bellew that I was going to buy +a divan, and she promised to remove that monster over there. But when +the divan arrived the other day, she told me I’d have to keep the bed +till she could have one of her rooms done over. I can’t throw the darn +thing out the window. It makes me <i>so</i> mad!” +</p> + +<p> +“Sorry I mentioned it, dearest. Don’t bother about it. That screen +hides it and the room’s so huge you can forget that corner.” +</p> + +<p> +“Anyway,” she smiled cheerfully, “I’ve managed to cover her hideous +old Wilton, except in spots, especially that torn place near the bed. +Dad sent the Orientals from home. Worn a bit, but the coloring’s +lovely. She wouldn’t take up her old carpet. Says the paint’s off the +floor and the boards cracked and rough. I don’t believe she’s had that +carpet up for years.” +</p> + +<p> +“By the way,” said Gene irrelevantly, “Stoner coming to-night?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, of course he is!” +</p> + +<p> +“Precisely—<i>why</i>—‘of course’?” +</p> + +<p> +“How silly of you, Gene! I can’t snub Stoner, and it would have been +worse than a snub not to ask him to-night. Why, <i>he</i> gave me the job +I’m celebrating! How <i>could</i> I leave him out?” +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose you’re right.” Gene’s agreement was sulky. “But I don’t like +Stoner and I hate to see him hanging around you.” +</p> + +<p> +She went up to him and gave him a light, swift kiss on the end of his +chin, then ran back before he could seize her. +</p> + +<p> +“Be a good sport, Gene, dear. A man of Stoner’s type couldn’t possibly +hurt me in anyway, for I’d never want him as a friend, let alone as a +lover. But it’s policy to be decent to him, and I’m not a fool.” +</p> + +<p> +“All the same I hate to see his familiar manner with you. All the +logic in the universe isn’t going to change that.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I can’t help <i>that</i>! If you <i>will</i> be jealous of an inferior, +then you just prove an inferiority complex.” Her smile sweetened the +words, then she added with a laugh: “The same kind of complex that +made Corinne Delamar decline my invitation for to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +Before Gene could reply, the door-bell rang. To Margot’s relief, the +first arrivals were May Cheshire and Lulu Leinster, with several other +girls and men from <i>A Toreador’s Love</i>. She was glad that Stoner had +not come in time to make an embarrassing trio with Gene and herself. +</p> + +<p> +Amid the chatter and laughter and admiring exclamations regarding +Margot’s room and the tiny roof-garden, the bell rang again. This time +it would be Stoner, she knew. She ran to the door to admit him, +standing with her back to the room. +</p> + +<p> +Stoner was tall and heavily built, with thick eyebrows that gave him a +fierce expression when he frowned. He was handsome, of a crude, +slightly brutal type. He possessed, at least, that illusive quality, +personality. He smiled down at Margot and extended a large, +well-groomed hand. +</p> + +<p> +Her cordial but impersonal greeting of: “Why, hello, Mr. Stoner! +Awfully glad to see you!” sounded innocent enough, which was for +Gene’s benefit, but only Stoner saw the roguish, upturned corners of +her mouth, and the smile of challenge in her lovely eyes. After all, +one must play a game with finesse. If she didn’t coquette a <i>little</i> +with Stoner, just to keep the ball rolling, either she’d antagonize +him, or run the risk of bringing on a crisis by goading him to a less +oblique attack. +</p> + +<p> +Before she turned and sauntered with him across the room, the color +had deepened in her cheeks. Whenever Stoner looked at her with his +critical, predatory eyes, Margot always grew uncomfortably conscious +of her physical assets: of the long, gently curved lines of her body; +of the clearness of her white skin, with its pink shadings; of the +golden auburn of her bobbed hair; of her nose, straight, except for a +slight uptilt at the end, which harmonized with the way her lips +deepened and lifted at the corners of her mobile mouth. She had no +unwarranted conceit, but the trained appraisal of Stoner’s glance had +brought to her to-night, as on previous occasions, the conviction that +she was more beautiful than she had supposed. +</p> + +<p> +An hour later, Margot, sitting Turk-fashion on her divan, and flashing +a smile over the rim of her cocktail glass at the girls and men +standing or lolling about the room, answered their toast to her +success, with one of her own. +</p> + +<p> +“If Shakespeare were alive to-day, he’d be writing scenarios, and +instead of saying: ‘The play’s the thing!’ he’d say: ‘The movies are +the <i>only</i> thing!’ Drink to the drama of the screen! May it live long +and prosper, and have lots of—of offspring!” +</p> + +<p> +“Taking liberties with the famous old toast of Rip Van Winkle. Very +clever of you, Margot, I’ll tell the world!” It was Stoner speaking. +</p> + +<p> +Surprising, Margot thought, that Stoner, with all his crudities, +should have recognized her paraphrasing of the toast of Rip Van +Winkle. She was sure that no one else but Gene in that room had +education enough for that. She studied Stoner through lowered eyes. He +was standing by the table, compounding bright-colored cocktails with +much orange juice and not much gin. The bottles were emptying rather +early in the evening. +</p> + +<p> +Stoner, liking to be in evidence wherever there were pretty women +about, had insisted upon presiding over the mixing of drinks. He swung +the big shaker with a loud tinkling of ice, and boisterous jests +thrown carelessly to one or another. He smiled, it seemed to Gene’s +watchful and jealous eyes, a little possessively at Margot, as he +said, with a laugh: +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll hand it to you, Margot, for knowing how to maneuver the drinks +so that we’ll stay sober and yet enjoy ourselves. Most women, when +they entertain, can’t strike that happy medium. They’re either stingy +with the booze, or they turn on the hose and send you home wall-eyed. +You’re the perfect little entertainer, I’ll tell the world.” +</p> + +<p> +“And why on earth, Margot, did you think you had to apologize for this +room of yours?” Lulu glanced about with wondering admiration. “I call +it a swell room, and fine for a party!” +</p> + +<p> +Margot smiled, and her gray eyes twinkled. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s really just a bedroom, Lulu, as I warned you. I can’t pretend +it’s anything else, while that monstrous brass bed stands over in that +corner.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you’ve got it screened, haven’t you?” Lulu argued. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a weak camouflage. And when I go to bed, of course I remove +the screen, and then, when I look around the room, I feel as if I were +in a regular movie bedroom. They’re always so funny, you know. Aren’t +they, Mr. Stoner?” +</p> + +<p> +For a second his expression showed that he thought she might be making +fun of him. +</p> + +<p> +“We have to rig up those fancy bedrooms, to please the fans who’ve +never seen a really swell bedroom in their lives. They think they’re +getting the real dope when we show them beds all covered with lace and +satin and the Lord knows what not.” +</p> + +<p> +“Beds don’t scare <i>me</i>,” laughed May Cheshire, shaking her little +blond, bobbed head. “Ain’t they among our best little props? Ain’t we +jumpin’ in and out of ’em in half the scenes?” +</p> + +<p> +Margot laughed with the others. Hers was too human a sense of humor to +resent the obviousness of such an exhibition of another girl’s wit. It +was spontaneous at least. +</p> + +<p> +“As to beds,” Stoner evidently thought the subject not yet exhausted; +“you aren’t the only young actress, Margot, who’s living in one room. +Lots of them in the ‘Roaring Forties.’ I’ve seen rooms that weren’t a +patch on this one for looks and comfort, and I’ve sat on more beds +than I could count, when there weren’t enough chairs to go round.” +</p> + +<p> +“At least you won’t be put to that trouble in my room.” +</p> + +<p> +Gene exulted at the slight coolness in her tone. Damn cheeky Stoner, +with his remarks about sitting on beds. Stoner gave her a sharp look, +then stared across the room to where the brass bed peeked around a +corner of the screen. +</p> + +<p> +“Wouldn’t be any trouble, I assure you.” What was it, in his voice? +Irony, ridicule, effrontery or just plain nerve? +</p> + +<p> +For the first time in weeks, Margot had a vivid memory of the look in +Stoner’s eyes when she had first given him her address, and the +following day, when he first suggested calling on her. The impression +of something vaguely sinister, had faded with more familiar knowledge +of the man, and his amiable crudities of mind and manner. +</p> + +<p> +“Guess you’ll soon be movin’ up town into some big swell flat on +Riverside Drive. You’ll be a star I bet, in the next picture they +shoot.” There was faint envy in Lulu’s big blue eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“If I move up town,” said Margot, with a laugh, “it certainly won’t be +to Riverside Drive. Too many murders of young actresses and dancers in +that neighborhood. And I’m in no hurry to move away from here. This +house has atmosphere, hasn’t it, Gene?” She turned her head to smile +directly into Gene’s watchful eyes. “It was built in the sixties, you +know, Mr. Stoner.” Her glance shifted to the director, who was sitting +on the arm of an old chair, and imperiling its usefulness. +“Picturesque old moldings, high ceilings and all that sort of thing. +Don’t you like these brownstone relics, Mr. Stoner?” +</p> + +<p> +“Gene, there, knows more about them than I do. He has to shoot them +every now and then. But the inside dope on architecture and periods is +the bluff of the art director. ‘Ain’t it the truth,’ Valery?” +</p> + +<p> +Gene disdained to attempt the sort of repartee which Stoner could have +understood. He got up, and poured himself a drink, and drank it +unsociably, except for a glance over his glass at Margot. She decided +hastily to make conversation of a kind that would entertain the crowd, +and avoid personalities, and danger of sword crossing between Gene and +Stoner. She would strike the note of mystery. That would intrigue them +all, at a minimum of effort. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, people,” she began, her mouth widening in a smile which +included everyone. “The best thing about this house is that it makes +good on its appearance. Mysterious lodgers have lived here. Strange +things have happened here.” +</p> + +<p> +In her roving glance from one guest to the other, her eyes met +Stoner’s. Their pale blue looked dark in the shaded lighting of the +room. He sat quite still, staring intently at her. Certainly the man +had strange eyes. One moment colorless and without expression, even +when his mouth suggested significant things when he smiled or spoke to +her; the next moment taking on depth and color and a vague suggestion +of mystery. She was conscious of a slight effort in withdrawing her +glance from his arresting gaze. +</p> + +<p> +Lulu dragged her chair closer, and May sprang to the divan, and +cuddled close to Margot. +</p> + +<p> +“Do go on!” May’s voice shrilled excitedly. “<i>What</i> strange things +have happened here?” +</p> + +<p> +“I only heard about it yesterday.” Margot determined to keep her +glance carefully away from Stoner’s direction. He made her nervous for +some reason. “I was talking to the landlady—trying to get her to take +away her old brass bed. She told me that a girl who was living in this +very room, disappeared in the funniest way, about three months ago. +She didn’t just walk out, bag and baggage. She disappeared—literally. +Left all her belongings, even her comb and tooth brush. <i>And</i>—she’s +never come back!” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s interesting!” Stoner’s comment came as he walked to the table +and poured a drink. His back was turned to Margot. “What sort of a +girl was she?” He stood now facing the others, and looking at Margot. +He frowned as if mentally groping with an abstract problem. “Anybody +have a drink?” he added genially. +</p> + +<p> +Cries from the girls, begging for silence, and telling the men to pour +drinks, if they must, without talking about it or interrupting +Margot’s story; then silence and absorbed attention as Margot +continued: +</p> + +<p> +“The girl’s name was Stella Ball. She was supposed to be working at +Macy’s, half time, in the afternoons. But Mrs. Bellew communicated +with the manager at Macy’s, after the girl left here, and they’d never +even heard of her!” +</p> + +<p> +Stoner leisurely blew rings of smoke from his cigarette, and said +lazily: +</p> + +<p> +“She may have been run over in the street. Obscure people often +disappear that way. Sudden accident, and no identification possible. +No papers on them, and nobody claims them at the morgue. Nothing so +mysterious about that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait till you hear the rest of it!” Margot’s eager glance avoided the +chair where Stoner was lounging. “The very same day that the girl left +here, an elderly man named Murchison, who had a garret room on the top +floor, also disappeared, with equal finality.” +</p> + +<p> +“A <i>really</i> old man?” Lulu’s instinct for romance jumped to the +obvious conclusion. +</p> + +<p> +“No, dear, just middle-aged. He was about fifty-five. Agile and wiry, +Mrs. Bellew says. Young in strength, but very unprepossessing. He was +round-shouldered, and had a thin, ugly, hatchet sort of face. No girl +could have looked twice at him. And in the evenings he stuck in his +rooms like a hermit, and he seemed to hate women.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did he have a job anywhere?” someone asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody knows. He never gave any information about himself. Of course +landladies like Mrs. Bellew would draw blood out of a stone, in the +way of gossip, but, apparently, she never found out anything about +that particular lodger. She didn’t care, so long as he gave no trouble +and paid his rent regularly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps the old bird had money, and the girl, Stella, may have fallen +for that.” Lulu’s sense of romance was not to be crushed. +</p> + +<p> +“Nonsense, Lulu. He wasn’t a miser, with bags of gold in his trunk. He +went out every day, so presumably he worked somewhere, but, judging by +the way he lived, he certainly earned very little.” +</p> + +<p> +“Call it a case of hypnotism, and be done with it!” Stoner’s +suggestion came flippantly. +</p> + +<p> +Margot turned her head quickly, and again met Stoner’s eyes, staring +at her through the shadows of the room, and the smoke from his +cigarette. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought of that. But the man’s only motive in hypnotizing the girl +would have been an immoral one, which wouldn’t have required his +taking her out of the house. No one here bothers about his neighbors. +You could literally get away with murder, and not a soul be the +wiser.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gosh! Catch <i>me</i> living in a spooky place like this!” May glanced +over her shoulder, at the darker corner of the room where the brass +bed hid its plebeian head. +</p> + +<p> +“Speaking of mysteries!” Margot glanced with surprise at Gene, whose +voice had broken the momentary silence in the room.—“Any of you +happen to read about the disappearance from the Fellowe Institute, of +a fraction of a gram of radium, a few months ago?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I read about it,” said Margot eagerly. “They haven’t the +faintest idea who took it, but of course it was stolen. Any of you +know anything about radium?” She glanced from one to another. +</p> + +<p> +“Not a damn thing. I’ll speak for the crowd.” It was Stoner’s voice, +bland, a little ironical. “We motion picture people, Margot, aren’t +wise to all that scientific stuff. Ain’t it the truth?” He laughed, +throwing his glance around the room. +</p> + +<p> +“Aren’t you even interested when you read of such things in the +papers, Mr. Stoner?” Margot regarded him with curious eyes. He was +such a strange contradiction, with his unexpected knowledge along some +lines, and his equally surprising lack of it along others. +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t say I am. As a matter of fact, I don’t have much time for +reading, except of course movie fan stuff, and the sports columns, and +local politics and all the bunk they write and call dramatic +criticism.” +</p> + +<p> +“But a thing like the disappearance of that radium is most interesting +news. Even a tiny bit of radium is worth a lot of money, and they’ve +had detectives on the case without getting a glimmer of light or a +single clue.” +</p> + +<p> +“The odd part of it is,” went on Gene, “that no one but an employee +could have access to their stock of radium, and the mystery lies in +the difficulty entailed in concealing it and getting out of the +building with it. It seems that all persons engaged in work at the +Institute are subject to search before they leave the building.” +</p> + +<p> +Margot could see by their faces that, so far as the others were +concerned, the subject of radium was exhausted. But her own mystery +narrative still held interest, she felt sure. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, to get back to the girl Stella, and old Murchison—” began +Margot. +</p> + +<p> +“Why get back to them?” Stoner drawled the words, and rolled his eyes +in comic supplication. “Much better turn on the jazz and let me shake +another round of Bronxes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Righto!” laughed Margot, getting up and going toward the victrola. +Without looking at Stoner she added: +</p> + +<p> +“Evidently, Mr. Stoner, you haven’t got the detective sort of mind.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you?” +</p> + +<p> +Through the high-pitched chatter of the girls, and the deeper cadence +of the men’s voices, Margot heard the brief, low-toned question. She +turned around, facing Stoner. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I have. Ever since I’ve been old enough to read, I’ve had a +slant for mystery and detective stories. I adore unraveling +mysteries.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is that so?” Stoner’s drawl expressed tolerant amusement. The slight +scorn so often shown by rather ignorant men for intelligent women. +</p> + +<p> +Margot put on a record, wound the victrola, then walked slowly to +where Stoner stood. She let him light a cigarette for her as she said, +smilingly: +</p> + +<p> +“Ever read ‘The House and the Brain,’ by Bulwer-Lytton? Fascinating +and gruesome. In fact quite blood-curdling.” +</p> + +<p> +“Any more so than Monsieur Dupin?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, mercy, yes.” She saw Gene approaching, and included him in the +conversation. “Who’s <i>your</i> favorite, Gene, in detective fiction?” +</p> + +<p> +“Gaboriau,” said Gene briefly, “and Maurice le Blanc.” +</p> + +<p> +“They would be,” laughed Margot. “You’re of French descent, and I +suppose you read them in the original. Well, as for me, I vote for +Conan Doyle’s immortal Sherlock! Although I’ll admit that Le Blanc’s +‘Memoirs of Arsene Lupin’ are thrilling and clever.” +</p> + +<p> +“You and Valery are some pair of highbrows to be in the motion picture +industry.” Stoner sounded sarcastic, and Gene frowned darkly, but +Margot answered gaily: +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve never heard detective fiction called high-brow before. Except, +of course, that I take it more seriously than most readers do, Mr. +Stoner. You see, I was a medical student and specialized in chemistry +before you gave me the chance of my young life to become an actress. +I’ve had lots of fun analyzing the methods of most of the great +fiction detectives. How’s that?” Her upturned face challenged him with +a bright smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Hot stuff for your press agent, when I’m directing you as a star, +some day.” +</p> + +<p> +Gene turned abruptly on his heel. Margot stood, her eyes held by +Stoner’s veiled scrutiny. For veiled it was; that expressed it +exactly. For a few seconds his gaze held hers, then—again—what was +it—that sudden dilating of the pupil; the queer overtone as of a +yellowish shadow darkening the pale blue of the iris; a shimmer in the +eyeball, like dust specks seen in a sunbeam.… +</p> + +<p> +Margot lowered her head, and walked slowly to the door leading to the +roof garden. Strange eyes! A little shiver shook her bare shoulders. +The night was sultry. The room was heavy with smoke and the warm +essence from many human bodies. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch02"> +CHAPTER II.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE GRISLY HAND AND THE FLAME</span> +</h3> + +<p> +<span class="sc">As</span> Margot danced, with one man and then another, a rapt, detached, +impersonal joy, shone in her face. Gone, between her and her guests, +the feeling of inequality that her agile and probing mind, had +inspired for a short interval. Gone the sense in her of repugnance for +Stoner, even when she danced in his arms. Gone the memory of his +strange and disturbing eyes. Caught up in the rhythm of jazz, what +mattered anything but motion—to these children of the Twentieth +Century—the poetry of motion, the only poetry most of them would ever +give a brass farthing for. +</p> + +<p> +What if the music were secondhand? Syncopation and the phonograph +record had come into being at the same time, and had swept away with +a single victorious gesture the sentiment of the waltz, and the +coöperation of eager fingers flying over a white keyboard. Here were +new measures, mechanical, but satisfying and inspiring to youngsters +of the Jazz Age. +</p> + +<p> +But it was after midnight, and high time to respect the rule that all +noise cease at twelve o’clock. Even in free-and-easy old houses such +as this one, there was a limit. Sandwiches and salad and coffee, +appeared mysteriously from a closet, where Margot concealed an +electric plate. One more round of drinks, mutual toasts and eager +congratulations to Margot for the success of her party, then the girls +began to fumble with their wraps. +</p> + +<p> +At the door, Stoner held out his hand for a second clasp. He had +already shaken her hand in good-night. He had managed to be the last +to leave the room. Even Gene had followed the others down the stairs, +although he had maneuvered a whispered entreaty into her ear, to +permit him to return in a few minutes, and she had yielded to the +unhappiness in his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Stoner, holding her hand, looked down at her with a slow smile parting +his thick lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Grand success, your little party—Margot.” She smiled, without +attempting to withdraw her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Awfully glad you enjoyed it. Next time I promise to have the +cocktails strong enough to suit you, Mr. Stoner.” +</p> + +<p> +“They were strong enough. Too strong, maybe, for those other little +girls. You’d already stirred them up thoroughly with your story of +mystery and murder.” +</p> + +<p> +Her eyes widened. “My story didn’t include a murder.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it was hinted at—left to the imagination.” +</p> + +<p> +“Entirely so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, see here, little girl. Take my advice and cut out all that +detective stuff. It fills your mind with truck and it’s bad for your +work. Take it from me, it is!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll write a mystery story myself, and perhaps you’ll let me star in +it. How about that, Mr. Director?” She laughed and tried to withdraw +her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing doing. Don’t like mystery pictures. Well, good-by and don’t +get nervous sleeping all alone in that big bed over there.” +</p> + +<p> +For a second, Margot felt angry resentment at what, on the lips of +such a man as Stoner, might so easily contain an ugly meaning—a raw +suggestion. The next second, meeting his eyes, so mysteriously +contradictory to the insidious sensuality of his mouth, she knew that +he had meant nothing insulting by his reference to her sleeping alone +in the large bed. Perhaps he had no meaning at all, back of his words +or his eyes, but there it was again, unsuspected by him, that strange, +disturbing filming of the pale blue iris, and the dilation of the +pupil. What in Heaven’s name did it mean! +</p> + +<p> +As Margot stood perfectly still, with the handle of the closed door in +her hand, listening to the sound of Stoner’s feet descending the +uncarpeted stairs, the vague wonder and unrest she had felt before, +became a concrete sensation of something very much like fear, yet fear +of what! Not Stoner himself. That would be too absurd! Besides, the +only thing a woman would have to be on her guard against with Stoner, +concerned matters wherein lay no mystery whatever. There was never any +mystery for a woman, attending the manifest gloating desire of a man. +Certainly she could handle Stoner. That wasn’t it. Well, what was it? +She felt half tempted to talk it over with Gene. But hearing his step +outside the door, she decided suddenly that she would not, could not, +discuss Stoner with Gene. +</p> + +<p> +Gene threw hat and coat on a chair in the manner of one who is anxious +to dispose of superfluous incumbrance, and be strong for his swim +against the current. He stood with his back to the wall, near the +door, ignoring Margot’s gesture toward a chair. Reading determination +in his grave, young face, Margot lighted a cigarette, just to have +something to finger, and walked toward him, In comic imitation of +Carmen, arms akimbo, swaying of the torso, head tilted back, and a +tantalizing smile on her lips. It was too late for melodrama, or even +mild dramatics. She must treat Gene with friendly levity, or she’d +have a heavy discussion to deal with. +</p> + +<p> +“Why so black in your looks, milord? You frighten me with your +beetling brows and acid smile?” +</p> + +<p> +“Smile! I’m far from smiling, Margot.” +</p> + +<p> +She shrugged her shoulders. Gene in this mood had no more sense of +humor than a clam. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be so darn literal, my dear boy. Of course you’re not smiling. +What I want to know is, why aren’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I’m too miserable, that’s why, if you want to know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now see here, Gene. In plain language, what’s eating you? Haven’t I +been sweet to you to-night? I danced with you more than with any other +man, and I talked with you a lot.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s that man Stoner. I’m not exactly blind.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is there not to be blind to?” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s a loud-mouthed motion picture man of the old school. Out of your +class a thousand miles. But he’s your director, and he’s got the gall +to have fallen in love with you, and makes no bones about letting us +all know it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Rot! Tommy Rot! I suppose he admires me—in a way—but I’ve a hunch +that his interest in me isn’t really as <i>personal</i> as it seems to be.” +</p> + +<p> +Gene frowned at her. “Now what do you mean by that cryptic remark?” +</p> + +<p> +Margot did not answer at once, then she said slowly: +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know myself exactly what I mean. But the main thing for you, +Gene, to get into that otherwise intelligent head of yours is, that +even if Stoner <i>is</i> in love with me, I’m not and never could be, in +love with <i>him</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +Gene looked neither convinced nor comforted. +</p> + +<p> +“Men like Stoner aren’t easily discouraged. I’ve seen him go after +women before. It’s just possible you might succumb to his cave-man +technique in the end.” +</p> + +<p> +“ ‘Technique’!” Margot laughed. “That’s funny. He hasn’t got any, +that’s one reason why I’ve got no use for him. He’s awfully crude. +Never lets me forget that he gave me my job. And speaking of +technique, old dear, you’d better improve your own. It’s terribly +flattering, of course, to have a man jealous of you, but it’s almost +insulting to think that I could care for Stoner.” +</p> + +<p> +Gene studied her morosely for a moment, then he turned away and walked +the length of the room. Margot’s eyes, watching him, softened and she +said gently: +</p> + +<p> +“I forgive you, Gene.” +</p> + +<p> +Quickly he turned on his heel and approached her, his hands +outstretched. He seized hers and held them close. +</p> + +<p> +“Jealousy is always stupid, dear, but when a man’s as much in love as +I am, things get out of focus. I’m obsessed by a very human male +desire to take care of you, Margot. To protect you against the world +in general and men like Stoner in particular.” +</p> + +<p> +Margot smiled into his eager face. +</p> + +<p> +“But, my dear. I can look after myself at present, as well as you +could look after me.” +</p> + +<p> +He frowned and dropped her hands. +</p> + +<p> +“I wasn’t speaking in terms of dollars and cents. I meant a different +sort of protection, the kind marriage to a decent man, gives a girl. +And as to the rest of it: With fair luck I’ll be a director before +long.” +</p> + +<p> +Margot put her hand on his arm and gave it a little squeeze. +</p> + +<p> +“That was crude of me, Gene. Forgive me. I really meant that we’re +both too young and unsettled to marry. I want to make good first, +quite on my own. If I don’t make the grade—a star, you know—and if I +grow old and ugly,” the very thought of it made her laugh gaily, “why +<i>then</i> I really might need you, Gene, but by that time, being a mere +man, of course you wouldn’t <i>want</i> me.” +</p> + +<p> +He drew her nearer to him and his eyes darkened with emotion. +</p> + +<p> +“I’d always want you, darling, and you could never be old or ugly to +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where oh where have I heard those words before! Something strangely +familiar about them.” She laughed, then sobered quickly as Gene drew +back, hurt by her levity. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m only teasing, dear, but you must admit, if you’ve got a sense of +humor, that it <i>is</i> awfully funny how every man when he’s in love, +always tells the woman that she could never be old or ugly to <i>him</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t imagine that an occasional man might mean it when he says +it?” Gene spoke a little coldly. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, my dear, they <i>all</i> mean it! That’s the funniest part of it.” +</p> + +<p> +Gene reached for his hat and coat. +</p> + +<p> +“You seem determined to squelch any sentiment between us to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +“To-night—yes. It’s fearfully late, Gene, dear, and you must go, +really.” +</p> + +<p> +He turned toward the door without a word, nor any attempt to caress +her. A cynical man of the world could not have chosen a surer way of +putting the initiative into the woman’s hands. Margot moved a little +nearer to him, then she said: +</p> + +<p> +“You may kiss me good-night, Gene.” +</p> + +<p> +Gene was too much in love to play the game dexterously. He dropped hat +and coat and took her eagerly into his arms. For a short moment she +relaxed in his embrace and even kissed him with instinctive response +to his passion. Then, as she turned her head away from his encroaching +kisses, a sudden thought stilled his passion. He looked at her with +troubled eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Darling, I can’t bear to think of you living alone here, after what +you told us about this house. You’re taking chances and it worries me +horribly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be absurd, Gene. And remember, I have my own telephone, right +by my bed. I’m indebted for that to the women who occupied this room +after Stella Ball left. It’s expensive but convenient.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad it’s by your bed. Easy to get at, if you wanted to call the +police.” +</p> + +<p> +“ ‘Police’!” she echoed with a laugh. “You’re determined to stage a +melodrama. If it got to the point of having to call the police I guess +I’d be beyond help.” +</p> + +<p> +“Seriously, Margot, I’m anxious. Let me give you a ring in the next +half hour. I shan’t sleep unless I hear your voice before you drop off +yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Idiot!” She gave him a playful shove in the direction of the door. +“Don’t you dare call me this time of night—morning, really. I’ll be +in bed before you’ve turned the corner, and sound asleep before you’ve +used your latchkey.” +</p> + +<p> +An hour later, Margot, with a weary sigh disposed of the last plate +and spoon, and emptied the ashes out of the last overflowing ash tray. +She undressed and tip-toed to the bathroom for a shower. It would be a +cold one at that hour, and it would make her wakeful, but she felt +stuffy and cigarette smoke seemed to have penetrated right through her +clothes. A few strokes of the brush over her thick bobbed hair, then +she gave another sigh, of comfort this time, as she propped up her +pillows, took a book from the night table and lighted a cigarette. She +was so wide awake she knew that she would have to read herself into a +relaxed state of mind. She kept a dull novel on hand to act as a +sleeping potion, for often she found it difficult to quiet her active +mind. +</p> + +<p> +The book wobbled in her hand, and her eyelids drooped. But she wasn’t +quite sleepy enough yet, so she clutched the book a little tighter. +The cigarette trembled between her lips and almost fell. She put it on +the ash tray, squeezing the lighted end. Then—droop, droop of the +eyelids, and she let the book fall to the coverlet. But the electric +light! Oh, dear! She must reach out and snap the thing off. Perhaps +the very slight muscular exertion of moving her arm, and pulling the +chain, stirred the nerves at the base of her brain. Darkness, and +stillness, yet that delightful drowsiness was gone. +</p> + +<p> +A faint ray of light came through the window opening on the +roof-garden. It was from a distant street lamp. It left the shadows on +either side of it the more dense. Perhaps another puff at her +cigarette would be enough to soothe her wakefulness. She reached out +and took it from the tray, picked up a match and lighted what was left +of her cigarette. +</p> + +<p> +A puff as she held the match to it then, more asleep than awake, +Margot stretched her arm over the side of the bed, and dropped the +still burning match to the floor. The next second and she was once +more alert. A lighted paper match on a thin, worn old rug! She had +seen the evil little things burn holes in tables, and the edges of +mantels, and she had ruined the handle of a good knife with the +careless dropping of a lighted match. Vaguely these things went +through her mind as she leaned over the side of the bed and looked for +the match. +</p> + +<p> +Her outstretched hand was poised above the coverlet. She had located +the match and had put out her arm to reach down for it. Then—without +sound, almost it seemed to her petrified gaze, without movement—a +small, thin hand, then a forearm, reached out from under her bed. +</p> + +<p> +Stricken with terror, her heart first missing a beat, then seeming to +be in her throat, strangling her, Margot watched the hand reach to the +match and tap it softly with thin fingers, crushing the burning end. +Then—back, without sound, back whence it had come, disappearing under +the bed. +</p> + +<p> +Margot lay rigid, eyes staring into the darkness, lips parted and +stiff. The first paralysis of horror at the incredible thing she had +seen, quickened to a definite and agonized fear—a personal and +feminine fear. +</p> + +<p> +Someone—a man of course—was under the bed. He must have been there +all the evening. He had tapped the lighted match because it might have +set fire to the rug, and led to his discovery. He didn’t think she had +seen him reach out for the flame. He’d wait till he was sure she was +asleep, then he’d come creeping out—creeping—creeping—— +</p> + +<p> +Burglary! Ridiculous! Margot’s clever brain could function, in spite +of her fear. Surely no New York burglar would hide in a house for +hours where all the rooms were occupied! He would break in when all +was still and safe. Besides, what had she, or anyone living in such a +house, that a burglar would want? It was not theft. She felt sure of +that. A maniac—an escaped maniac, a paranoiac, who had picked her out +as the one on whom to avenge an imagined grievance. As a medical +student she had come to know the possibilities where paranoiacs were +concerned. +</p> + +<p> +Murder! That’s what it was. Murder! God in Heaven, how long would the +creature wait? She dared not scream, and who would hear her if she +did? Walls and doors in that old house were so thick as to be almost +sound-proof. She’d go mad if she had to endure this suspense much +longer! If she were to break down and become hysterical, that would be +the end, right there! Whatever she did, she <i>must</i> keep a cool head! +</p> + +<p> +A violent wrench of nerves and muscles and will, then she raised a +hand that was icy cold and stiff, and switched on the light on the +night table. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch03"> +CHAPTER III.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">A CREATURE WITHOUT A BODY</span> +</h3> + +<p> +<span class="sc">The</span> intense relief of sudden light in a dark room, when one has felt +the grip of deadly fear, brought from Margot a long drawn breath that +her quick wits changed to a yawn—an audible convincing yawn, +convincing to whatever, whoever, waited with the stillness of death, +under her bed. +</p> + +<p> +Determined not to lose self-control, rapid and coherent thought +brought a sequence of small acts calculated to ward off immediate +danger and arrest suspicion in the maniacal creature whose hand and +arm she had seen. By this time Margot was convinced that she had to +deal with a maniac of some description. +</p> + +<p> +She followed up her yawn with a restless twist of her body on the +mattress, a bang to her pillows, and finally a low grunt of physical +discomfort which ended in a self-addressed murmur of: +</p> + +<p> +“Gosh! Wish I could get to sleep!” +</p> + +<p> +Her next move was to seize her book and turn the pages noisily. Would +it be possible, she wondered, to keep on turning pages until +dawn,—possible for her to retain her self-control as the suspense +grew more and more unbearable, and would it be possible so far as the +patience of her lurking enemy was concerned. Would It—she thought of +the living thing as It—wait indefinitely for its proposed attack? +Surely not. Then this was merely a respite. It might wait for hours +for the light to be switched off again, but It would not wait for +daybreak and the consequent danger of discovery. +</p> + +<p> +She measured the distance to the door leading into the hall. It wasn’t +so far, and if she didn’t get muscle-bound with fear, she could make +it with one long spring. But even so, before she could open the door, +there would be another spring—from the Other One under the bed, and +It would catch her before she could turn the handle. And if not a +spring, then a shot at her, for of course the creature must be armed. +No! Even if she were to get out of bed in a leisurely, unsuspicious +fashion, for whatever apparent purpose, she would be attacked as +surely and swiftly as if she were to scream for help. +</p> + +<p> +Horrible, this waiting and thinking and planning! Horrible this unseen +menace—man or woman, sane or insane, violent or craven! There was a +limit to what even her healthy nerves could endure without snapping. +</p> + +<p> +A sudden memory of Gene begging to let him call her up. If only she +had told him he might do so. Ridiculous! He would have rung her up an +hour ago at least, and by now he was probably sound asleep. He had +supposed that she was going immediately to bed, and would not have +dared to risk disturbing her after this long interval, even if she had +consented to let him call her. +</p> + +<p> +A sudden alternative, a desperate expedient occurred to her with a +quickening of her pulse. Why couldn’t she call Gene! She would be +taking a fearful chance, for the mere calling of Central might be the +signal for an attack. To be sure, when calling for the police one had +merely to say the one word to the operator, therefore an ordinary +number would sound innocent enough. But how could she be sure that any +such reasoning would occur to the mind of a maniac? The mere sound of +her voice might be enough to bring that creeping, ghostly arm from +under the bed, and the body to which the arm belonged. But she <i>must</i> +do something! She’d call Central and get Gene’s number. After +that—God knew what! +</p> + +<p> +Her hand trembling so that she very nearly dropped the instrument, she +lifted the telephone from the table to the bed. She put the receiver +to her ear and after the usual interval at such an hour, when night +operators often seem to be sound asleep, she heard Central’s weak and +far away reply. Nothing stirred in that room of horror except her +trembling body and her anguished breathing. So far, her plan was not +bringing her lurking enemy from hiding. +</p> + +<p> +She heard the distant ringing of Gene’s bell,—ringing, ringing. Again +her heart seemed to be in her throat, choking her. Suppose that Gene +slept so soundly that no mere telephone bell could arouse him! Many +men slept like that. How did she know where Gene had the instrument! +It might be in his closet or his bathroom, anywhere but in his +bedroom! These possibilities flashed through her tortured brain and +made the few seconds seem like hours. Then came a still worse fear. +Perhaps Gene had changed his mind and not gone home at all! She +remembered that often he had told her of taking long midnight walks in +Central Park, when he was unhappy about her and knew that he could not +sleep because of her. Perhaps that was where he was, right that +moment! +</p> + +<p> +Fear weights time with lead, even when thoughts fly in whirling +rapidity through one’s brain. Perhaps Central wasn’t calling the right +number! Her suspense—by this time, acute agony—was unbearable. She +signalled for the operator, started to repeat the number, and +then—God, the relief! Gene’s voice, dull and clouded with sleep, +saying “Hello!” as if he’d like to murder somebody if he were not too +sleepy to take the trouble. +</p> + +<p> +She almost screamed with the easing of tension. Using what little +control she had left, she modulated her voice to a pitch of casual +friendliness and unconcern. Her inspiration had come! She knew, +suddenly, just what she was going to say to Gene. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose you’ll curse me for waking you up, Gene.” +</p> + +<p> +“For Heaven’s sake, Margot!” +</p> + +<p> +All sleepiness and latent irritation gone; an eager, naïve joy in his +tone, struck her as ludicrous, considering her desperate need of him. +</p> + +<p> +“Awfully sorry to disturb you, but I’ve been trying to read myself to +sleep with a French book, and I’ve struck a passage I can’t +understand. Will you translate it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Translate—French!” His voice sounded flat with disappointment. +Apparently the absurdity of her request did not strike him. Gene was +like that—so darn literal. And he was accustomed to her being erratic +at all times and seasons. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Now listen carefully, Gene! These are the phrases that I don’t +understand: +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Il y a un homme au-dessous de mon lit. Venez tout de suite!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +She pronounced each word with slow distinctness. Her blood tingled in +her veins and pricked her skin with the realization that if her enemy +happened to know French, it would be all up with her in a few seconds. +He might wait until she hung up the receiver, knowing that a sudden +outcry of fear from her would give the alarm over the wire, but +<i>after</i> that—— +</p> + +<p> +For an instant Gene was silent, apparently too surprised to answer +her. He knew well enough that she read French with ease. Then a laugh +came to her over the wires. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the joke, Margot? Surely you know what those phrases mean.” +</p> + +<p> +Oh, Heavens! Gene, with his literal mind, and his slow imagination! +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll repeat what I said, dear. Guess you didn’t hear me.” +</p> + +<p> +She had all she could do this time to control the trembling of her +voice. +</p> + +<p> +She repeated the foreign words slowly, striving to cut through space +to where Gene seemed to exist only as a voice. By the color in her own +voice and sheer force of will, she must get her meaning over to him. +</p> + +<p> +Sleepiness perhaps made Gene dense. He translated a little flippantly: +</p> + +<p> +“ ‘<i>There’s a man under my bed. Come at once!</i>’ ” +</p> + +<p> +A third time she repeated the words, then said in English with +cautious urgency: +</p> + +<p> +“Get it now, don’t you, Gene?” +</p> + +<p> +He got it! She heard his gasp of horror. +</p> + +<p> +“Good God! Be there in five minutes!” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait a second, Gene!” +</p> + +<p> +Another swift thought had come to her. The door to her room was not +locked. Thank God for that! She could never have left the bed and gone +to the door, even to open it for Gene. She recalled distinctly having +put the lock on the catch, early in the evening, and had forgotten to +change it. Gene could walk right in! +</p> + +<p> +“Just one more phrase I can’t understand. <i>Pas besoin de frapper. Ma +porte est ouverte.</i>” +</p> + +<p> +“All right, all right. Be right over!” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks for translating,” she said quietly, to complete the pretense, +if indeed it were still that. The receiver at Gene’s end had already +been hung up. “Good night!” +</p> + +<p> +Then—seconds that were years of waiting for <i>It</i> to come forth! It +would surely come now if her French had been understood. Nothing! Not +a sound—not a movement. Only the beating of her own heart, so loud it +sounded to her that she wondered if it could not be heard by whatever +it was that waited beneath her. +</p> + +<p> +Gone, that particular and immediate danger! <i>It</i> had <i>not</i> understood +French! She relaxed on her pillow with a sigh that was almost a groan +of relief. Odd that she should still be safe, she reflected vaguely. +Only a few minutes and Gene would be here! Thank Heaven that he lived +in the same block! He would have to ring the house bell, but it +connected with the basement and could not be heard upstairs. Again +thank God for all small mercies. +</p> + +<p> +Hours! Days! Weeks! Then—upon the deathly stillness came a faint +sound of creaking wood. Gene was on the stairs! He was on the landing! +She could hear the shuffle of his feet! Then—the handle of her door +turning without sound, and the next second the door was thrown open, +literally hurled back against the wall. She saw Gene standing there, a +revolver in his hand. She saw him glance at her as if to be sure of +her safety before he could think of anything else. His face was +deathly white. Margot lay under the bed covers as stiff and still as +if she were dead. +</p> + +<p> +Then she heard Gene’s quiet command: +</p> + +<p> +“Get out from under that bed!” +</p> + +<p> +Silence—a silence so thick with suspense that it seemed a part of the +living menace which remained invisible. +</p> + +<p> +Good God! Gene was a target as he stood there waiting, his revolver +leveled toward the floor. +</p> + +<p> +Margot watched with staring, helpless fear, she too waiting, for +Heaven knew what! +</p> + +<p> +Gene advanced slowly into the room, still keeping eyes and revolver +pointed to the floor near the bed. Then he spoke again: +</p> + +<p> +“Get out from there if you don’t want to get shot!” +</p> + +<p> +Silence, a silence that pressed on Margot’s heart like a living thing. +She watched Gene take a few more steps closer to the bed. Then +suddenly he dropped to his knees, facing the foot-board of the bed, +bent until his head almost touched the rug, and aimed the revolver in +a quick motion back and forth. Margot could only see the curve of his +back over the foot of the bed. She felt she could breathe once more. +The fear, for Gene and for herself, had suddenly lifted, for some +strange reason. +</p> + +<p> +Gene got quickly to his feet, and stood looking at Margot. His +expression of utter amazement would have struck her as comic in a +saner moment. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s nothing under that bed.” +</p> + +<p> +He made the announcement with the calmness of a mind suddenly stunned +by surprise and emptied of emotion. +</p> + +<p> +For a second she thought that fear had unbalanced him. Then came a +dazed confusion to her own brain. Of course Gene was right! There +could be nothing under the bed or it would have attacked him. +But—where could the creature have gone—where and how and when, while +she lay there watching and waiting in frozen horror? +</p> + +<p> +“I saw a hand—a hand and arm, come out from under the bed, and put +out a match on the rug.” The mystery which seemed to augment the +horror, made her whisper the words. +</p> + +<p> +Gene lifted the small electric lamp to the floor, raised the +overhanging coverlet, and looked again under the large brass bed. Then +he got to his feet, more slowly this time. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing there!” His glance at Margot, seeming to raise the doubt as +to there having been anything there at any time, made her spring from +the bed, oblivious to the fact that she stood before him in her +pajamas. +</p> + +<p> +The look she threw him was a challenge and defiant assurance that he +was—must be—mistaken. She knew there was something under that bed! +She dropped to one knee and stared at the empty space extending to two +sides of the wall. Nothing! Absolutely nothing! +</p> + +<p> +She stood up, staring at Gene with a dazed expression, and still +innocently unconscious of her attire. +</p> + +<p> +“Something <i>was</i> under that bed! I was wide awake so it wasn’t a +dream. How could I have <i>imagined</i> what I saw!” +</p> + +<p> +“What did you think you saw—I mean, what did you see?” Gene hastily +corrected himself. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll tell you what I saw.” She shivered in remembrance of creeping +horror, and her voice trembled with excitement as she tried to tell +him what happened. +</p> + +<p> +“I couldn’t sleep, and I lighted a cigarette to take a few more puffs. +I dropped the match to the floor, then remembered suddenly the danger +on this old rug, I reached over the side of the bed to find the match. +Just at that instant a thin white hand and arm crept out, oh so softly +and quickly and deliberately tapped the lighted match and put it out, +then withdrew back under the bed. <i>That’s</i> what I <i>saw</i>, I tell you, +and God knows why I didn’t die of fright.” +</p> + +<p> +Something in Gene’s eyes—a puzzled wonder perhaps—made her say +eagerly: +</p> + +<p> +“You look as if you think I’m crazy, Gene. When I called you my life +was in danger. Don’t you <i>believe</i> me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, of course, dear. But it’s all right now. Whatever it was +you saw isn’t there now, and I’m here instead.” +</p> + +<p> +His smile was meant to be soothing, but it angered her. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re acting as if you thought I were hysterical. I’m never +hysterical. And I’m not the kind to get any man out of bed in the +middle of the night, just on a wild goose chase!” +</p> + +<p> +The tenderness that filled his eyes and his tentative move toward her, +as if to express his tenderness, brought sudden consciousness to +Margot of her unclad condition. She was too well bred to apologize or +refer to it in words, but she reached to the foot of the bed, seized a +silk kimono that lay there, and slipped it on quickly. Then she looked +at him almost impersonally, her eyes bright with the keenness of the +thought that had come to her. +</p> + +<p> +“Gene! There’s a mystery, sure enough, about this room, and we’re +going to solve it. At least I am, and I’d like to have your help.” +</p> + +<p> +Whatever he may have thought about mysteries which brought Margot +nearer to him in dependence and trust, he was wise enough to keep to +himself. All he said was: +</p> + +<p> +“Righto! I’m keen about detective stuff. You furnish the Sherlock +Holmes end of it, Margot, and I’ll attend to any scrapping that may +form part of the game.” +</p> + +<p> +Her face softened and her voice deepened with a throaty note, as +always when she was deeply stirred. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re <i>such</i> a brick, Gene, dear!” Then her lips quivered into a +smile which made his heart beat faster. “You’re—you’re wonderful to +me. I don’t know what I’d have done without you to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +Her eyes filled with sudden tears and she shivered, drawing the kimono +closer about her. He took an eager step toward her. +</p> + +<p> +“Margot—darling—you’re all in. You’ve had a fearful nervous shock.” +</p> + +<p> +The sympathy in his voice broke down her last reserve. She had poise, +and character and a clever brain, but first and last she was feminine +and she had been badly frightened. +</p> + +<p> +“You—you don’t know what I’ve been through!” She bent a little toward +him as if her own strength were not enough for her. +</p> + +<p> +In the next few minutes, as Margot’s head lay against his shoulder, +and dry, nervous sobs shook her slight body, Gene had the sort of +struggle that few women understand, to compel his arms to express the +tenderness and protective gentleness that was what she wanted of him, +and restrain their passionate yearning to crush her against his heart. +</p> + +<p> +Margot understood perfectly. She felt the trembling that went over him +like a wave, from head to foot, and she felt his soft kiss on her +hair. For the first time she wondered if she didn’t love Gene well +enough for—well, for marriage and all the rest. +</p> + +<p> +His protective strength gave her back her self-control, and it gave +her something else—a realization that it would be good to have Gene’s +love and strength to depend upon. Still clinging to him with one hand, +with the other she rubbed her eyes, then gave a tremulous laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“For an independent female who wants no man’s help, I’m doing rather +well, don’t you think, Gene?” +</p> + +<p> +She looked up into his eyes, and their smile invited his caress. He +bent his lips to hers and for the first time since he had loved her, +Margot’s kiss told him that she cared more for him than any words of +hers had admitted. +</p> + +<p> +He kissed her hair, her temple, her throat, just under her ear where +her hair swept back. Then he whispered into her ear. +</p> + +<p> +“Darling—you do love me—just a little, don’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Just a little,” she whispered back. As if afraid that she had +surrendered too much and too quickly, she drew gently out of his arms, +with a glance that told him he mustn’t press the advantage gained. +Then a frown drew her eyes together, as if to remind him that the +situation demanded concentrated thought and action, unrelated to +love-making. +</p> + +<p> +“Gene, whether I ever sleep again in this room or not, I’ve <i>got</i> to +know what was under my bed and where it went to. You said you’d help +me?” +</p> + +<p> +“You bet I will!” His smile was apparently as unemotional as his +words. +</p> + +<p> +She stared at the rug where the match had fallen, as if to seek there +the first clue in the unraveling of the mystery. Suddenly she ran to +the spot, across the few feet of space intervening. She threw herself, +literally, to her knees and bent her head close to the rug. Then, +excitedly she called to him, without lifting her head. +</p> + +<p> +“Gene! Come here! Look at this!” +</p> + +<p> +He got down on his knees beside her and looked where she pointed. What +he saw was a distinct hollow in the nap of the rug, a hollow the size +of the tip of a human finger. Into this the black char from the +burning match had been pressed and smudged. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly they got to their feet and stood in silence for a few seconds, +looked at each other with widened eyes. Gene, for the first time since +he had reached the room, looked sincerely puzzled and uncertain. +</p> + +<p> +“I guess that settles it,” Margot said slowly. “I wasn’t just ‘seein’ +things at night.’ Not even a real ghost could have made that mark on +the rug. Now, what?” +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” Gene said thoughtfully, “with your permission, I’m going to +call the police.” +</p> + +<p> +She hesitated. Her glance wavered from the spot on the rug, to the +telephone, then to Gene. +</p> + +<p> +“I think we’d better. It would be foolish to wait till daylight. Of +course they may think us a couple of idiots. Policemen haven’t much +imagination.” +</p> + +<p> +Gene walked to the telephone and called up the police. +</p> + +<p> +“And now, my dear,” said Margot, “I’ve got to put on some clothes +before they get here. I’ll have to do it here, for I’m scared to go +into the bathroom—it might be tenanted.” She gave a nervous laugh. +“So shut your eyes, old dear, or turn your back, and have your +revolver ready in case I have to throw shame to the winds and yell for +help.” +</p> + +<p> +It took her only a few moments to get into a house dress and comb her +ruffled hair. The comb dropped from her hand to the top of the chest +of drawers, as a loud banging at the front door resounded through the +old house. She stood close to Gene as they listened to the heavy +trampling of feet downstairs. Gene ran to the door and flung it open. +The officers of the law came up to the landing with a rush, and behind +them scurried Mrs. Bellew, in a half-buttoned wrapper and curl papers. +For all the excitement and her own nervous tension, Margot’s lips +twisted with the smile she tried to control as she saw her landlady. +</p> + +<p> +Patrolmen Michael Quinlan and Shane Boyle, stood each of them nearly +six feet. Their pugnacious but kindly faces, their clean wholesome +skins, suggesting a life spent in the open, their broad blue-coated +chests, and their nightsticks, swung with just the right suggestion of +authority and force, made Margot’s room seem suddenly and +incongruously, about the safest place in New York. +</p> + +<p> +Quinlan glanced sharply from Margot to Gene. His voice was as sharp as +his words. +</p> + +<p> +“Speak up! What’s wrong here?” +</p> + +<p> +Gene, not wishing to dominate the situation, unless Margot wished him +to, looked at her enquiringly. She nodded quickly with a smile, then +addressed Quinlan, briefly and a little crisply. +</p> + +<p> +“This is <i>my</i> room. I occupy it alone.” Slight emphasis on the last +word. “I’d had a party here. Everybody had gone home and I went to +bed. After I’d switched off the electric light, I lighted a cigarette +and threw the match on to the floor. It struck me suddenly that it was +a dangerous thing to do, so I leaned over the side of the bed to make +sure the match wasn’t still burning. As I did this, I saw a hand and +arm reach out from under the bed——” +</p> + +<p> +“Sneak thief, eh?” Quinlan couldn’t wait for the end of her narrative. +“Think he’s still around here?” He made a movement to approach the +bed, but Margot stopped him with a slight gesture of her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait, please! Let me finish. The hand reached out to the match and +tapped the burning end of it. I was too frightened to move or make a +sound. Then the hand and arm were drawn back under the bed. I made +sure, as soon as I could control my thoughts, that I had a maniac to +deal with. I screwed up my courage and switched on the light. Nothing +happened, but I fully expected to be murdered any minute. Then I +telephoned to my friend Mr. Valery, made up a yarn about wanting him +to translate some French I was reading, and got it over to him in +French that a man—or something—was under my bed. He came right over +in five minutes. When he looked under my bed, there was nothing to be +seen.” +</p> + +<p> +Painfully conscious, as she neared the end of her story, that it must +sound absurd and unconvincing to others, she threw a brightly +challenging look from one policeman to the other. Their friendly Irish +faces expressed a struggle between doubt of her sanity and amusement +at the situation. Then Boyle said bluntly: +</p> + +<p> +“Sounds like a pipe dream to me, lady.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s neither a pipe dream nor a nightmare,” she said gently. Her +common-sense told her that it would be absurd to get up on her dignity +because these two unimaginative but kindly disposed policemen, showed +frank disbelief of her statements. “Look here, please!” She walked to +where the match had been smudged into the rug. “Just bend down and +take a good look at that and tell me what you both think of it.” +</p> + +<p> +What they both thought of it was not evident in the scowling, +bewildered scrutiny they bent upon the rug. Then a thick, red finger +went out to touch the spot. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t please!” Margot’s sharp command caused the finger to draw back +slowly. “We may want to examine that later again,” she said more +gently. “It must not be touched by anyone.” +</p> + +<p> +The officers stood erect and exchanged glances that showed an +uncertain state of mind that they were determined to conceal, but +Margot’s keen eyes saw and understood. +</p> + +<p> +Said Quinlan, squaring his shoulders: “Well, Miss, what do you want us +to do?” +</p> + +<p> +“Investigate thoroughly, please.” Something in her quiet assurance and +dignity went further to convince the two men, that here was something +not so easily disposed of as they had thought, stranger than even that +queer mark on the rug. +</p> + +<p> +“Sure,” Quinlan said, swinging shoulders and nightstick as he +approached the bed. “Where’s that door lead to?” He indicated the one +opening upon the roof-garden. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a roof out there.” It was Gene who gave the information. He +pointed to another door. “That’s a closet, and the bathroom’s next to +this. Opens into the hall.” +</p> + +<p> +Boyle walked to the door opening on the roof, and Quinlan dragged the +heavy bed aside, remarking comfortingly to Margot: +</p> + +<p> +“Never a sniff or sign of a living soul’ll escape us, Miss, so don’t +you worry!” +</p> + +<p> +He moved the bed out into the room, then rapped the floor with his +stick. There was no cupboard behind the bed, nor any aperture in the +wall except a small register protected by a grill through which a +mouse could scarcely have passed. He gave a scornful prod to the +mattress and struck the bed springs, just by way of not omitting +anything. Then he walked to the closet. It was a deep closet and wide, +hung with many clothes. It required a few seconds to give the closet +its due portion of attention. Quinlan turned back into the room just +as Boyle returned from his inspection of the roof and bathroom. +Quinlan stood a little awkwardly, swinging his stick. His lips were +tight shut in a sort of pursed smile, and he lowered his head a little +as he looked at Margot. +</p> + +<p> +“Look here, Miss. Do ye mind telling me what business you’re in?” +</p> + +<p> +Slightly taken aback, and throwing a glance at Gene to which he +responded by moving closer to her, she said: +</p> + +<p> +“I’m a motion picture actress.” +</p> + +<p> +Quinlan lifted his head and the pursed smile widened to good-natured +amusement. +</p> + +<p> +“Say! That don’t surprise me, at all at all. You movie queens sure +like to pull anything to make a story for the papers, don’t ye now?” +His smile was ingratiating. +</p> + +<p> +For the first time Margot felt angry resentment. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve given you my story, told you the absolute truth. I <i>saw</i> a hand +put out that match. Just because the case is full of mystery is no +reason to insult my intelligence.” +</p> + +<p> +Quinlan had probably heard of insulting a good many things in the +course of his career, but to insult someone’s ‘intelligence’ was a new +one on him, evidently. He frowned, then smiled sheepishly. +</p> + +<p> +“Sure, I meant no harm, Miss. Now, just tell me once more, quiet like. +You were scared out of your boots, as you might say. Then you phoned +this young man.” He glanced at Gene. “Now, did you have to get out of +bed to let him in?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. The door was unlocked. He walked right in.” +</p> + +<p> +“Humph!” Quinlan’s brain found this almost too easy. His smile +widened. “Sure, don’t you see, Miss, didn’t it strike you at all, that +whoever was under that bed could have crawled to the hall door or the +door leadin’ to the roof, and made his get-a-way?” +</p> + +<p> +“There was a streak of light from a street lamp, coming through that +door.” She pointed to the roof-garden exit. “It made a faint shaft of +light across the room. I could have seen anything moving over by that +door.” +</p> + +<p> +“But maybe now, you weren’t lookin’ in that direction all the time. +And it was black, wasn’t it, at this end of the room?” Margot nodded. +“Well, he could have got to the hall door easy. Too dark to see him, +and your heart, likely as not, Miss, was beating too loud for you to +<i>hear</i> him open and shut the door.” +</p> + +<p> +For a moment Margot was staggered by the apparent simplicity of the +explanation. Then once more she knew beyond all doubt, that, +fear-distraught as she had been during those awful minutes, +nevertheless her hearing had been made more acute by her very fear, +and she could not have failed to hear the slightest movement in the +room. Before she could reply to Quinlan, Mrs. Bellew who had been +standing all this time, too overcome by astonishment and fear and +Heaven knew what other mixed emotions, to do anything but stare +open-mouthed and listen spellbound, suddenly broke forth. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my God, my God!” She was almost hysterical from cumulative fear. +“That thief or that crazy man or whatever it is, is roaming through my +house. I know he is! He’s hiding in some empty room. Find him, oh my +God, find him!” +</p> + +<p> +Margot went quickly to her distraught landlady and put a hand on her +arm. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t get excited,” she said gently. “If there’s anything—I mean +anybody—roaming around in the house, these officers will find him. +I’ll see to that. So don’t you worry, my dear.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Bellew’s mouth quivered, and tears came into her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m that nervous,” she said tremulously. “What with that girl +disappearing the way she did, and that man Murchison, and now this +maniac loose in my house, I’m terribly upset, Miss Anstruther.” +</p> + +<p> +Quinlan had heard what she said. He went closer to her. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that you said about a girl disappearing and a man?” +</p> + +<p> +Margot, realizing that these other happenings, which might or might +not have bearing on her own experience, would only confuse the present +issue for Quinlan, said quickly: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it’s got nothing whatever to do with what happened to me +to-night. A girl lodger here some months ago, walked out suddenly and +never came back, that’s all. And a man living up stairs disappeared at +the same time.” Her smile at Quinlan was deliberately calculated to +mislead him, and it succeeded. He gave a knowing smile and +comprehending nod. +</p> + +<p> +“Sure! I get you!” His good-nature was reinforced by the beautiful +young lady’s confiding manner. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Bellew was too self-centered and upset to observe details. She +had not caught Margot’s smile nor the subtle suggestion in her words, +but Gene, delighted at the quick wit of this girl whom he adored, +swallowed a laugh with difficulty. +</p> + +<p> +Margot turned more seriously to Quinlan. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, please Officer, search the house thoroughly. But whatever you +do, don’t leave <i>this</i> room unguarded. I swear to you that I saw a +hand and arm creep out from under that bed and put out the match. And +I <i>know</i>—” she raised her hand with a solemn gesture, almost as if +taking an oath, “I am as sure as I am that I’m alive, that whatever +was under my bed <i>didn’t</i> get as far as the door.” +</p> + +<p> +Quinlan’s shrewd look of questioning doubt grew more serious. He +turned to Boyle. +</p> + +<p> +“You stick here till I get back. After we’re all out, just switch off +the light. That’ll bring action if there’s anything round this +neighborhood. Here, give me a hand with the bed.” +</p> + +<p> +They shoved the bed back into place, then Quinlan, again swinging his +stick and his shoulders, went to the hall door. +</p> + +<p> +“Come on, you people. Better find somewheres else to sleep till +mornin’, Miss Anstrooter.” He got the name out with difficulty. +</p> + +<p> +Margot, Gene and Mrs. Bellew went downstairs and waited in the dimly +lighted front hall. From time to time they caught the chittering +voices of lodgers who were being disturbed by Quinlan’s search. +Finally he joined them below, remarking that he had still to take a +look at the front and back parlors. He struck the parlor door with his +stick. The blow against the heavy wood resounded in the silent house. +</p> + +<p> +“Not but what he’d have ducked for the street, right off, and——” +</p> + +<p> +His sentence was never completed. A roar of sheer terror thundered +through the house. Mrs. Bellew gave a scream, and Margot seized Gene’s +arm. +</p> + +<p> +“Mother Mary!” Quinlan almost whispered the words, and his eyes +bulged. +</p> + +<p> +The door of Margot’s room, which could be seen from the foot of the +stairs, burst open, and Boyle dashed down the stairs, face ghastly +white and eyes staring. He seemed oblivious of the four figures in the +hall, and made a spring for the front door. Quinlan threw out his arm +and caught him. +</p> + +<p> +“For the love of God, what’s eatin’ ye?” +</p> + +<p> +“The hand! The hand!” Boyle was beyond lucid speech. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>What</i> hand?” Quinlan shook him and shouted at him. +</p> + +<p> +“The hand from under the bed!” +</p> + +<p> +“You saw it too?” Margot seized Boyle’s arm with trembling fingers. +Her flesh was cold and tingling. +</p> + +<p> +Boyle crossed himself. He spoke in a choked undertone. +</p> + +<p> +“Standin’ there—in the dark—the Holy Saints take witness—it came +out—from under the bed—and doused a flame on the rug!” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch04"> +CHAPTER IV.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">MOUNTING MYSTERY</span> +</h3> + +<p> +<span class="sc">Dawn</span> streaked the eastern sky with orange and gold. A crispness in +the air made Margot draw her cape closer about her. She and Gene had +spent the intervening hour in Mrs. Bellew’s basement room, and now +they stood on her own roof-garden, reveling in fresh air after the +stuffy atmosphere below, and watching the beauty of the dawn through +an open space between two houses to the east of them. +</p> + +<p> +Margot had more than a stuffy atmosphere to get rid of. She wanted, +for a brief moment, to shake off the memory of nerve-racking hours, +first in the room with the creature of the hand and arm, and, since +Boyle’s sensational climax, the bored depression of listening +patiently to Mrs. Bellew’s wailings, and warnings of still more +trouble to come. The landlady could conceive of no human agency in the +appearance of the ghostly hand and arm. No speculation as to human +motives or mystery were of interest to her. The only explanation that +seemed to fit the case for Mrs. Bellew, was a spiritual one. In plain +simple vernacular, the house was “haunted,” and would continue to be +haunted, therefore bad luck would attend it and her. She had a +ten-year lease and the law would not release her because of ghostly +visitations. It was equally certain that no tenants would remain with +her once the truth should become known. +</p> + +<p> +Margot had always been interested in psychic phenomena, and was too +open-minded to be skeptical as regards any psychic manifestation. But +in this instance she stuck to her belief that the amazing hand +belonged to the body of a living—a sinister—human criminal. +</p> + +<p> +Quinlan and Boyle were at this moment prowling heavily about Margot’s +room, and wrangling as to whether anyone had seen anything come out +from under the bed. They had reported to the station house by +telephone, after Boyle had steadied his shaken nerves, and had been +ordered to remain where they were and get to the bottom of the matter +if possible. +</p> + +<p> +Margot turned from the narrowed but close view of the East River, +glistening in the first sun-rays of early morning, and motioned to +Gene to listen to the policemen inside the room. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen to them, Gene! They’re awfully amusing.” +</p> + +<p> +Argument and rehearsal of the night’s drama, ended each time with +something like this: +</p> + +<p> +“The young lady maybe was dreaming, as you say, Quinlan, and maybe she +<i>wasn’t</i> dreaming. All <i>I</i> know about it is that <i>I</i> seen it with me +mortal—me wakin’—eyes,—a thin, white hand it was,—the hand of a +ghost, God have mercy on us!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ghosts!” Margot gave a low chuckle as she heard the disgust and scorn +in Quinlan’s voice. “Ghosts, is it? Ain’t ye ashamed to have such a +heathen thought!” +</p> + +<p> +“Heathen, am I? Well, tell me this, if ye’re so smart ye are! The +young lady saw a hand put out a match she had dropped on the floor. +The light she saw was a match burning. Get that don’t ye? How about +the flame of light I seen with me own eyes? It wasn’t a match, I’ll +tell ye that, for I hadn’t lighted no match, and that ye know as well +as I do.” +</p> + +<p> +Quinlan’s reply was a grunt that scorned further argument. Margot’s +smile faded as she turned serious eyes to Gene. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s just it, Gene! Even that ignorant man in there, sees something +there that can’t be explained by ordinary theories. That’s what would +make almost any intelligent person feel sure that the mystery has a +psychic meaning. But nevertheless, I’m sure it’s something else.” +</p> + +<p> +“See here, Margot darling. Don’t be angry with me if I say—what it’s +easier to say in the cold light of morning—that you <i>may</i> have had a +sort of waking dream—a realistic staging of your imagination which +fooled you into thinking that—well, that it wasn’t your imagination +at all. I happen to know that such things have occurred even to +unimaginative persons.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right, old dear, granted, for the sake of argument.” Her smile +accepted his skepticism without the resentment she had felt a few +hours before. “And granting that, of course it’s quite simple to +explain what Boyle experienced as the fevered imagination of a +superstitious Irishman. But there still remains the smudge on the rug. +You can’t suppose that I got out of bed, terrorized as I was, before +you got there, and it is certain that neither of us made that mark +<i>after</i> your arrival.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dearest, that match might have fallen there before you went to bed, +and been stepped on by you, unobserved.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, see here, Gene! I know that ‘evening thoughts grow cold at +night,’ to quote some philosopher, or, to paraphrase him, midnight +thoughts freeze up entirely before daylight. Before you called the +police you were ready to concede that I wasn’t <i>imagining</i> things. And +you agreed to help me get to the bottom of what I consider a +mystery—a human mystery, not a psychic one. Now, are you going back +on your offer?” +</p> + +<p> +“Absolutely not! I’ll do anything you want, and not express a doubt to +anyone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Righto! Then stop expressing them to me, from now on. And now let’s +go out and rustle some breakfast. After I’ve braced up with some +strong coffee I’ll come back here and dress to go to the studio.” +</p> + +<p> +“And by the way,” she added, “if you get to the shop before me, don’t +you breathe a word to anyone! It’s <i>my</i> story and I want the fun of +telling it.” +</p> + +<p> +When Margot returned to her room a half hour later, she found Quinlan +a trifle dubious about leaving her alone in the room. She told him +that she had to dress for the day—bathe, etc.—and asked them to wait +on the landing, if they absolutely wouldn’t go down stairs. +</p> + +<p> +Daylight—sunlight—made of her room so cheerful and normal, even so +commonplace a setting—so absurd a setting for mystery and mystic +marauders—that she laughed at the notion of keeping two policemen +there all day on guard. Of course there was nothing queer or inimical +lurking about now in broad daylight! Time enough to watch the room +after nightfall. +</p> + +<p> +She felt weary, utterly let down, now that the excitement of her +midnight adventure had abated. Young as she was, and pretty, she could +not afford to go to the studio looking fagged, with unbecoming shadows +beneath the eyes and the iris clouded from lack of sleep. A hot tub, a +cold shower, setting-up exercises, and a moderate disposal of rouge +and powder over her clear skin, and she was ready for the fray. +Instinctively she always half expected it to be some sort of a fray +with Stoner as director and would-be lover. +</p> + +<p> +Arriving at Astoria about nine o’clock, she hurried to the main +production floor. Her big scene in <i>A Toreador’s Love</i>, was to be shot +to-day, she remembered, with a faint thrill of anticipation. She +couldn’t possibly, in the present circumstances, feel more than a mild +thrill over anything unrelated to the mystery she was so eager to +unravel. However—it behooved her to forget it for a while, charm +Stoner if need be, and certainly to fulfill the promise she had shown +in previous scenes of making good in her big scene. +</p> + +<p> +Tall scenic creations—the sides of buildings, garden walls embowered +in greenery, the prows of ships—were jumbled together, leaned against +each other in stacks. The place suggested that mysterious region +behind the curtain, stage and backstage, of many opera houses thrown +into one fantastic whole. Carpenters and mechanics hammered and +hauled. In the midst of the confusion, here and there, were completed +sets where scenes were being shot; rooms furnished to the last detail, +with only one or two walls apiece, rooms where actors strolled and +mimed, and upon which blazed the batteries of assembled Kleig lights. +</p> + +<p> +Margot knew that the movies have a doctrine of efficiency to which +they seldom adhere. Promptness was an unwritten law, but when you were +told to be on hand at nine o’clock sharp for the filming of a scene +prepared the day before, if you were in costume by eleven it would be +too early because the cast would probably have luncheon before +settling down to work. The amount of time wasted throughout the day +was truly remarkable. Margot knew her set was not even ready, and that +the instructions given her to be on time were little more than an +official gesture. +</p> + +<p> +However—might as well be ready! She changed her clothes then picked +her way through the tangle of props to where May Cheshire, Lulu +Leinster and other girls were chatting. They were all in their street +clothes, Margot observed with a smile. Through the slats of a cabin on +wheels—Corinne Delamar’s dressing-room—shone electric lights +indicating that the star was “making-up.” Frederick Stoner, for once, +lounged silently, while the stage hands adjusted a Spanish balcony. +What was the matter with Stoner, Margot wondered, with amused +indifference! She had never before seen him so restfully +quiescent—restful for all the rest of them. +</p> + +<p> +A quick glance at the incurious faces of the girls assured her that +Gene had kept silent as to what had happened. But of course Gene +would, even if he hadn’t promised her to do so. Gene, who had +maneuvered to be the camera man on this particular job, stood apart +from the crowd, tinkering with his camera. His back was turned to her. +Margot had a sudden impulse to go up and speak to him. It would be +incautious, perhaps, to indicate the very faintest friendly interest +in Gene while they were in the shop. It might irritate Stoner but—to +perdition with Stoner! She’d do what she wanted to, such a little +thing anyway. And Gene was <i>such</i> a brick! +</p> + +<p> +She approached him with a gentle: +</p> + +<p> +“Hello, Gene!” +</p> + +<p> +He swung around at the sound of her voice, almost dropping what he +held in his hand. His eager eyes swept her from head to foot. He +hadn’t seen her in this Spanish rig before. +</p> + +<p> +“By the Lord, Margot, you’re stunning! Beautiful Andalusian, except +for that glimpse of your hair.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. +“You’re as fresh and lovely as if you hadn’t been up all night.” +</p> + +<p> +“All depends, you know, what you’re about, when you’re up all night. +They say that when you’re keenly interested in something or somebody, +you don’t show fatigue, and you’ll have to admit that I was keenly +interested in <i>something</i>—<i>and somebody</i>!” She laughed, looking at +him out of the corners of her roguish eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose you’re endowing a myth—an apparition—with personality,” +he said a little somberly. +</p> + +<p> +“Take care!” She shook a finger at him. “You promised not to express +the least doubt in future, even to me. But, as a matter of fact, old +dear, when I used the word ‘somebody,’ I really <i>meant</i> you.” +</p> + +<p> +The sudden light in his eyes warned her that it was no place in which +to play with fire, the fire being in Gene’s eyes. She whispered that +she’d see him later in the day, and turned to join the other girls. +Just then Stoner saw her. He stood only a few feet away, but he +approached nearer, where she stood next to Lulu Leinster. +</p> + +<p> +“Hello!” he greeted her, appraising her with his quick, shrewd eyes. +“Top of the morning! Sleep well, after that grand little party of +yours?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not a wink!” Her bright glance was friendly enough, but she did not +smile. She often gave the impression of smiling when actually her +mobile lips remained closed. +</p> + +<p> +“What on earth—” he began, sincerely mystified. “You don’t mean that +the mild drinks and our milder society, made you as wakeful as all +that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no, I don’t mean that!” Her smile was vaguely irritating to him. +“I didn’t sleep a wink because I was rehearsing the first scene in New +York’s greatest detective mystery.” +</p> + +<p> +For a second his eyes narrowed, or she thought they did, and seemed to +probe back of her words. Then his expression changed swiftly to an +amused understanding of her light mood. A mere jest, of course, he +seemed to say with the smile on his full lips. +</p> + +<p> +He stepped a little closer to her, but did not raise his voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Trying to call attention to your youth and beauty by pretending that +they’re proof even against a sleepless night? You don’t need to, my +dear.” His bold glance was like an unwelcome caress. +</p> + +<p> +The unexpected twist he had given her remark, annoyed her, and his +glance was an affront. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing of the sort! I <i>was</i> awake all night, and it <i>did</i> concern a +mystery.” +</p> + +<p> +Again he studied her, a little puzzled. +</p> + +<p> +“Guess it would take a good live mystery to keep <i>you</i> awake, Margot. +You couldn’t work yourself up to such a pitch just by telling or +listening to a tale like the one you gave us about that girl who +disappeared, and the old fellow.” +</p> + +<p> +She had almost forgotten the story about Stella Ball and the man +Murchison. Odd, too, because she recalled that when Mrs. Bellew had +nearly gone into hysterics when the policemen were examining the room, +it had struck her as remotely possible that there might be a +connection between the old and the new mystery. Now, she felt +suddenly, with a little shudder, that it might be more than remotely +possible. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve said it, Mr. Stoner! That’s just what it was and is—‘a good, +live mystery.’ And something new to fact and fiction. A creature +without a body or a face. It was in my room for hours.” +</p> + +<p> +The other girls were crowding around her, pushing and buzzing like a +swarm of insects. She smiled at one and the other, then, with another +glance at the director, she said calmly: +</p> + +<p> +“A policeman saw it, too!” +</p> + +<p> +In the midst of the chirping and excited cries of the girls, she +distinguished Stoner’s low exclamation of astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“A policeman! What on earth were you doing with a policeman?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing wrong, I trust.” She could not resist the facetious retort, +nor control the smile of amusement that almost broke into a laugh at +Stoner’s angry dignity. The girls, at least, had the sense to giggle, +but that only made Stoner more indignant. +</p> + +<p> +“See here, my dear young friend, I’ve got a busy day ahead of me, and +so have you. Can’t waste time with foolish cracks. You made a +statement regarding a policeman. Was that your little joke?” +</p> + +<p> +“No it wasn’t!” she snapped, her eyes suddenly flashing. Stoner +annoyed her. “Something darn queer happened last night—<i>so</i> darn +queer, that I called Gene Valery on the phone, because, frankly, I was +frightened out of my wits, then we called the police.” +</p> + +<p> +Open-mouthed and speechless interest greeted her on the part of the +girls, and a few men standing by now, on the edge of the circle around +her. To her surprise, Stoner also was silent, watching her intently +out of half-closed eyes. She gave them the story from beginning to +end, repeating the high spots for the emotional avidity of the May and +Lulu types of mind. She hardly expected very intelligent or +constructive comment from any of them, but Stoner’s first remark +surprised her. She had counted on him for a bit of racy skepticism. +But he said, with a dark frown: +</p> + +<p> +“Rotten thing to have happened—rotten!” +</p> + +<p> +“Why rotten?” Her sense of irritation with him increased. “I may have +to wait a long time for another such break in the monotony of my +life.” +</p> + +<p> +“Should think you’d rather have some other kind of diversion than a +low-down burglar sneaking in and out of your room at night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who said it was a burglar?” Again she snapped at him. “Nothing so +commonplace as that, I assure you, or I shouldn’t have taken the +trouble to talk about it.” She caught Gene’s eyes over the heads of +the excited girls. He had approached and stood outside the circle. She +addressed him directly. +</p> + +<p> +“I’d call it an extraordinary mystery, wouldn’t you, Gene?” +</p> + +<p> +“Decidedly extraordinary,” he said quietly. +</p> + +<p> +Stoner’s quick glance at Gene warned her that she might dare much in +personal encounters with the director, but that for Gene’s sake and +her own, she must be more cautious where he was concerned. She +contrived to smile more pleasantly at Stoner. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it’s a mystery, and what’s more, <i>I’m</i> going to solve it!” +</p> + +<p> +“Want to be a female Sherlock Holmes, eh?” he said sullenly. “Well, +I’d advise you not to. There’s danger, meddling with that sort of +thing.” +</p> + +<p> +Something in his tone and manner warned the girls that their director +would prefer to talk alone with Margot. They faded away regretfully, +their curiosity by no means sated. The men strolled off and Margot +found herself facing Stoner’s eyes in which there lurked, or she +fancied it, a faint menace—the menace of a will opposed to her own. +She took up the gauntlet. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean by danger, Mr. Stoner?” +</p> + +<p> +“Danger of your melodramatic story breaking into the newspapers.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t understand,” she frowned at him. “What if it did? I’m neither +a society bud nor a sister of mercy. I am—or trying to be—a motion +picture actress. If publicity ever hurt any woman in <i>this</i> +profession, it’s news to me.” Her smile was a little mocking. +</p> + +<p> +“See here, Margot!” He threw off suddenly his aggressive manner. “You +know I’ve done all I could to give you a chance,—shove you ahead. +I’ve no object in giving you a wrong lead. When I advise you to lay +off of freakish publicity, it’s only for your own good.” +</p> + +<p> +Mollified, but still dubious and puzzled, she said: +</p> + +<p> +“But I’m not planning to do <i>anything</i> just for the sake of a +write-up. My investigation of my little mystery is going to be dead +serious. If the papers get hold of it and send reporters to me, I’ll +give them a straight story. What’s wrong about that? They make up what +you don’t tell them, anyway.” +</p> + +<p> +Stoner seemed to hesitate, then he said quietly: +</p> + +<p> +“I see I’ve got to be frank with you, Margot. You’re not a star <i>yet</i>, +my dear girl, and you can’t afford to pull front page stuff that would +make the leading lady sore.” +</p> + +<p> +Taken by surprise, Margot stared at him. +</p> + +<p> +“You mean—Corinne Delamar?” +</p> + +<p> +“Think she’d like to see <i>you</i> head-lined, when <i>she</i> hasn’t been able +to make the papers in a big way since we started this picture?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why—I hadn’t thought of her at all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, girlie, you’ve got a think coming. She’d be sore as hell, take +it from me. I know her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course,” Margot began doubtfully, “I don’t wish to antagonize Miss +Delamar. But how do you know she wouldn’t get interested herself, if +she knew what a strange experience I’ve had! Suppose I tell her about +it?” +</p> + +<p> +“No! Drop the whole business—please!” Stoner’s face was flushed and +there was sharp command in his voice. +</p> + +<p> +More annoyed with him than she had ever been before, Margot flashed +angry rebellion at him, then she turned away with brusque indifference +to appearances, walked off the floor and went upstairs to the dressing +room she shared with a few other girls. +</p> + +<p> +She was more than annoyed at Stoner’s unsympathetic attitude, and what +struck her as an attempt to bully her. The more she pondered the +matter, the more puzzled she grew. If he were sincere in his stand +regarding publicity, why had he vacillated in argument? First he had +warned her against the harm of freakish notoriety, then he had +switched to the possibility of arousing the star’s hostility. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly the absurdity of it all struck her—her own absurdity above +all, for it <i>was</i> ridiculous of her to have taken Stoner so seriously, +and not seen below the surface to his real motive. The simple truth, +so she felt, was that Stoner was indulging unreasoning and petty +jealousy of Gene. He hated the thought that Gene and not himself had +been associated with her in an adventure. He hated still more the idea +of this association becoming public news. She recalled his glum +demeanor when she had told of Gene coming to her supposed rescue. +Obviously, Stoner would go far to prevent a sensational sequel to the +adventure, which would bracket her name with that of the man whom he +regarded as an impudent rival. It would be most galling to a man of +Stoner’s character. +</p> + +<p> +Finally she resolved that nothing should induce her to discuss the +matter in the studio again that day—or any other day, for that +matter! And she stuck to her decision in the face of a regular +bombardment of feminine questions. Stoner was less easy to avoid. He +had more approaches than one. He led her aside about an hour after she +had reappeared on the set. His first remark was so blunt and +apparently sincere, that it took her off guard. +</p> + +<p> +“So you won’t credit me with being in love for the first time in my +life?” +</p> + +<p> +Her stare of surprise was as frank as his question. +</p> + +<p> +“Why—really,” she stalled, with a faint smile. “I never consider such +things in working hours.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be serious!” he commanded frowning. “You’d better understand, first +as last, that we’re both in a game where love and work are often mixed +up, pretty close sometimes.” +</p> + +<p> +She loathed him for his implication of favoritism at a price. With a +cool little smile, she said: +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve told you several times, Mr. Stoner, that I’m not the least +interested in the game of love, just at present, with you or any other +man. I mean what I say. Why insist?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I want to get it well into your head that I really am +seriously in love with you. I’d like you to believe in me, even if you +can’t love me—yet. Now, take that question of my advice about +publicity. You acted as if you thought I was trying to injure you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no,” she said sweetly. “I’m quite willing to acknowledge your +good intentions.” She could not control the touch of sarcasm in her +smile. But he seemed not to notice it, which was as well. +</p> + +<p> +He grew more cheerful. His smile was ingratiating. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve been thinking that it mightn’t do any harm to make a cautious +investigation of your spook. Suppose we go over it together. Have +dinner with me, then, afterwards, we could look through your quarters +for clues.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry, Mr. Stoner, and thank you very much, but I have an +engagement to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +His face clouded instantly. “As usual,” he growled. +</p> + +<p> +She passed that up, then said gently: +</p> + +<p> +“Even if I could dine with you, to-night, Mr. Stoner, my mystery +wouldn’t form part of your entertainment. Second thoughts are not +always best. Not in this case anyway. You told me emphatically to drop +my mystery—not investigate it. And that’s that!” +</p> + +<p> +They stood looking at each other, Margot serene and smiling, Stoner +scowling and affronted. Then, her eyes, with their uncanny power to +detect thought or emotion in other eyes superficially inexpressive, +witnessed for the third time since she had first met him, that strange +dilating of the small pupil; that queer overtone as of a yellowish +shadow darkening the pale blue of the iris; that shimmer in the +eyeball, like dust specks seen in a sunbeam. She had once more that +sensation of hearing something she could not understand; something +that he was unconscious of saying. +</p> + +<p> +Then Stoner walked away, and Margot stood motionless, with an +intangible, vague wonder in her groping mind. +</p> + +<p> +Hours later, Margot, standing on the side lines, dressed as +<i>Conchita</i>, felt no surprise that her director had so manipulated +matters during the balance of the day, that her scene was not called. +As she watched the filming of secondary shots, she felt relief that +her first important scene had been postponed. She was in no mood to do +herself credit, and she was glad that Stoner’s petty resentment had +given her such a good chance to rest and wait. If he had intended to +make her regret her treatment of him, how disappointed he would be, if +he knew the truth. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly she was aware of Corinne Delamar’s rather arrogant stare from +across the lot. A scene had just been finished, and the star stood at +ease, smoking a cigarette. For the moment Stoner was busy and +unobservant. Margot stared back, but without impudence. It was rather +as if she said to Corinne: Well, sorry you don’t like me. Suppose you +tell me why! +</p> + +<p> +The unspoken challenge reached perhaps to the brain of Miss Delamar. +Deliberately and slowly she crossed to where Margot stood. She went +close to her before she spoke. Then she said: +</p> + +<p> +“I want to talk with you, Miss Anstruther. Will you come to my +dressing-room?” +</p> + +<p> +Surprised, but not averse to an encounter—she felt vaguely that it +would be that—with the star, Margot smiled her willingness to follow +Corinne to her dressing-room. A couple of uncomfortable chairs, two +cigarettes, a slight pause over the ponderous matter of lighting them, +and then: +</p> + +<p> +“What’s your little game?” drawled Corinne, lazily puffing and +inhaling and blowing smoke through her small nose. +</p> + +<p> +Margot, with a gasp and the flashing thought that never would she +learn to cope with women of the star’s type, said gently: +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry if I’m stupid, Miss Delamar, but I’m afraid I don’t +understand what you mean.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh—<i>don’t</i> you?” +</p> + +<p> +Vague suggestion of insolence made the blood mount swiftly in Margot’s +face. It showed through her make-up. +</p> + +<p> +“Frankly, I don’t,” she repeated gently. “I might imagine many things, +but I prefer not to.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’d hate to have you overwork your imagination, so I’ll help +you out. Are you playing Frederick Stoner just on general business +principles, or is it something more—personal?” +</p> + +<p> +Quick resentment flamed into Margot’s gray eyes, but she controlled +herself to say gently: +</p> + +<p> +“Will you tell me what right you have, Miss Delamar, to assume that +I’m ‘playing’—as you call it—the director, from any motive +whatsoever?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be ridiculous, please! Try to talk as if you gave me credit for +having at <i>least</i> as much intelligence as yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +Margot half rose from her chair, on the impulse to leave Corinne +forthwith, not condescending to give her a reply, rude or courteous. +But another impulse followed and held her in her chair. For some +reason too vague to analyze, she wanted to conciliate Corinne, if this +could be done without loss of dignity. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Delamar, please try to believe me when I tell you that I am +<i>not</i> making use of the director, either for professional purposes or +personal ones. I’ve tried, of course, to be friendly with him. Who +doesn’t? I’m quite sure that a girl can’t expect to get very far in +pictures, without favoritism or some sort of pull or backing, unless +maybe she has extraordinary talent.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me—which of us two—you or I—has ‘extraordinary talent’?” +Corinne’s pretty lips twisted in a smile of malice and irony. +</p> + +<p> +Margot detested flattery, but she caught the implication in Corinne’s +question—unexpectedly clever of Corinne!—and realized that she was +treading on thin ice. Corinne was a violent little thing. Better not +arouse her. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’m fairly sure <i>I</i> haven’t got extraordinary talent, +nevertheless I have hopes of getting on without influence, so I’ll +modify what I said. A girl <i>may</i> get on if she’s fairly good-looking, +screens well, can act pretty well, and has a personality that helps to +get her over.” +</p> + +<p> +Corinne gave her a grudging smile. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re smarter than I thought you were. You’ve summed up things +flatteringly for both of us. I have all the assets you mention, so +that lets <i>me</i> out. No suggestion that <i>I’ve</i> had any favoritism to +boost me. And it lets you out too! Miss Anstruther, if I didn’t +dislike you so much, I could almost find it in my heart to love you.” +Her smile was not unamiable. +</p> + +<p> +Frankly surprised, Margot said quickly: +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you dislike me so much? I know you’ve avoided me, and I know +that you think I’ve flirted with Stoner and—and—all that,” she +fumbled with slight confusion, remembering the ridicule in the remarks +of girls who had told her that the star was jealous of her and Stoner. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’ll take your word for it. I kind of thought I saw signs of +your having come over into my yard to play—when I haven’t been +around. Understand, my dear? But if you say you’ve just kind of +wandered in by mistake, and if you’ll agree to sort of leave my—my +yard alone, why I guess I won’t hate you.” +</p> + +<p> +If Corinne had used the word “property” instead of “yard,” her meaning +could not have been clearer, Margot reflected, with eyes lowered to +conceal her reflection. She rose and tried to smile cordially. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope that you and I will be friends before this picture’s finished. +I admire Mr. Stoner for his ability and for his jolly good nature +which doesn’t often get spoiled. But, frankly, Miss Delamar, he isn’t +at all my type, nor am I his. He’s interested, of course, in the +talent he believes I have, but naturally—and <i>obviously</i>—he’s far +more interested in <i>your</i> talent.” +</p> + +<p> +That ended the strange little interview, but not Margot’s reflections +upon it. Late that afternoon Gene contrived hurriedly to make an +appointment with her for dinner. They left the studio separately and +met in New York at a specified restaurant. Afterwards they went to +what Margot facetiously called the house of mystery. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch05"> +CHAPTER V.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">WEIRD SUSPICIONS</span> +</h3> + +<p> +<span class="sc">During</span> dinner Gene had made several attempts to swing Margot into a +mood which would be at least gracious to his love-making, but she had +been distrait, which was more disconcerting than a frank rebuff. On +the way home he held her arm with a pressure that evoked only a light +laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“Funny old dear,” she said teasingly. “You’re determined to be amorous +to-night, but really, Gene, I can’t take my mind off my mystery, even +for a minute. Do you know, I haven’t telephoned home all day, just +because I didn’t want to take the edge off my return. Let’s hurry and +see if there have been any new developments.” +</p> + +<p> +Gene followed her lead, but took a silent oath to kiss her before the +evening should be over, mystery or no mystery. +</p> + +<p> +Once over the threshold of the house on Forty-ninth Street, they felt +at once the atmosphere of suspicion and jangled nerves, as embodied in +the person of Mrs. Bellew. In Margot’s room they found Quinlan and +Boyle, both on guard, with the landlady hovering about, babbling +theories that no one was interested in. +</p> + +<p> +The policemen told Margot that a plainclothes detective from +headquarters had been there to interview her, and would shortly +return. A few minutes later he appeared, a cold, shrewd officer, who +answered to the top-heavy name of Cornelius Hart. He seemed like an +intelligent type, but intolerant. Evidently he had brushed aside all +second-hand reports, insisting upon getting Margot’s story from her +own lips. +</p> + +<p> +For the fourth time she gave her narrative without embellishments. +Hart listened attentively and prodded her with occasional questions. +Finally he said: +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Anstruther, I think you have a powerful imagination.” +</p> + +<p> +It was what she might have expected, but she felt the same unreasoning +resentment which all skepticism regarding her experience seemed to +evoke. She said quietly: +</p> + +<p> +“This policeman,” she glanced at Boyle, “saw what I saw.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sure! Boyle’s an Irishman. He’ll see anything anybody else sees. They +believe in the Banshee, where <i>he</i> comes from.” +</p> + +<p> +Boyle growled an indignant but indistinguishable protest. +</p> + +<p> +“Many mysterious happenings which have been explained in the end, have +appeared just as fantastic in the beginning as what I’ve told you.” +Margot tried logic on Hart, without success. +</p> + +<p> +“The chief difficulty, Miss Anstruther, in accepting the arm and hand +you describe, is that they were attached to no body.” +</p> + +<p> +“How do you <i>know</i> that?” she came back at him quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, looks that way, doesn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +“All right, let it go at that, but don’t you think it’s a problem +worth at least <i>trying</i> to solve, that an arm <i>apparently</i> attached to +no body, nevertheless did certain definite things? Put it that way.” +</p> + +<p> +Hart shrugged his thin shoulders. He glanced around the room. +</p> + +<p> +“This place has been searched thoroughly, and more than once. There +are no traces of anyone having hidden under the bed.” +</p> + +<p> +“How about the hollow in the nap of the rug where a finger-tip pressed +down the match?” +</p> + +<p> +“Maybe. It’s fluffed out now. I can only say that there isn’t the +slightest evidence that a crime was committed or attempted. So it +doesn’t seem to concern the police department.” +</p> + +<p> +Margot regarded him with serious eyes. He was as cold and impersonal +as a fish. +</p> + +<p> +“Then you are finished with the case?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not quite. Sleep somewhere else to-night. I’ll leave Quinlan to watch +this room. If there’s nothing to report by to-morrow, we’ll be +through.” +</p> + +<p> +Hart left, and Boyle, heaving a great sigh of relief, went with him. +Margot asked Quinlan to wait downstairs for a half hour, as she had +something to talk over with her friend. She went down with the +policeman and asked Mrs. Bellew’s permission for him to remain in her +sitting-room. Quinlan’s expression of despair at the prospect of half +an hour of uninterrupted conversation with the landlady was comic. But +Mrs. Bellew smiled happily at the prospect, oblivious of Quinlan’s +unflattering scowl. +</p> + +<p> +Alone with Gene in the brightly lighted room, Margot threw herself +with a sigh of relief, on the divan. She let him sit beside her, but +she refused even to let him hold her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Gene, old dear, my brain’s on the rampage. I haven’t an emotion +to-night capable of sitting up and taking notice of the love-making of +a veritable Valentino.” She laughed and patted his hand. “But I do +need your sympathy and advice—dreadfully.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have a vision of you taking my <i>advice</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well—perhaps that isn’t exactly what I mean, but I want to talk +things over with you,—get a few trifles off my mind.” +</p> + +<p> +She told him of Stoner’s peculiar behavior and comments on hearing of +her ghostly adventure. She repeated laughingly his warnings about +Corinne Delamar, but she omitted his avowals of devotion, and his +anger because she had refused to dine with him that night. It would be +unwise to give Gene any additional reason for suspicion and jealousy +of Stoner. She decided to refrain even from telling Gene of her +conclusions as to the director’s motives for begging her to drop the +matter of the mystery. Gene would be enraged at the bare idea of +Stoner having the impudence to be jealous where Margot was concerned. +And as to his motives,—she had begun to wonder if her conclusions +hadn’t carried her far afield of the truth. That was just what she +wanted to discuss with Gene—Stoner’s <i>motive</i> in being apparently so +upset about her having publicity. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know,” she ended her recountal with a fixed stare across the +room; “at times I feel as if there were something queer about +Stoner—something vaguely sinister and disturbing. At other times I +laugh at myself for such an idea, especially when he’s in one of his +boyish, boisterous and entirely simple-minded moods.” +</p> + +<p> +“What first gave you such an idea about Stoner? He seems to me the +crudest, most obvious type of male.” +</p> + +<p> +“I guess it’s his eyes—mostly.” Margot’s own eyes looked full of the +enchantment of mystery. “They certainly have a weird expression at +times.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean by ‘weird’? The way he looks at <i>you</i>?” +</p> + +<p> +She smiled at Gene’s quickly aroused suspicion and resentment. +</p> + +<p> +“No, it’s nothing personal. That’s the odd thing about it. There are +moments when he looks at me but doesn’t really see me for a second. +And his eyes seem to be saying something that he’s unconscious of +saying and that I can’t understand. It’s happened more than once.” +</p> + +<p> +Gene’s adoring smile was then a little quizzical. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a little trick of yours, Margot, darling, to read things in +eyes that are really quite without expression.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s where you’re all wrong, old dear,” she said quickly. “Often +when a person’s eyes look positively blank to others, they tell <i>me</i> +something in total contradiction to what their lips are saying. It’s +most embarrassing at times.” +</p> + +<p> +“When did you first notice this <i>weird</i> expression in Stoner’s eyes?” +Gene looked as if Stoner as a subject for conversation might be +improved upon. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” she said eagerly, “that reminds me. I’ve never told you about +the day I first went to the Superfilm studio for a job. Maybe after +I’ve told you certain things, you may be clever enough to throw light +on Stoner’s pale eyes.” +</p> + +<p> +She laughed at Gene’s exclamation of disgust, and began her narrative. +</p> + +<p> +She told him of her embarrassed entry into the waiting-room of the +casting director, when she had run the gauntlet of rows of feminine +eyes—eyes of the other girls on the same errand as herself, and +waiting in various degrees of irritation and boredom. She laughed in +amused reminiscence. +</p> + +<p> +“Every head in the room bobbed—including my own. Just a difference in +color and cut. Lipsticks, powder-pads, tiny mirrors—rows of them. And +their poor, pathetic little faces, Gene. Vacuous smiles on carefully +painted lips, and hardened eyes that should have been young and +weren’t. And pair after pair of flesh-colored silk stockings—mine +were tan that day, and I was glad of it. And their attenuated skirts +adjusted modestly an inch or two above the knee. I wanted to scream +with laughter, but suddenly I wanted to cry, they were so pathetic.” +</p> + +<p> +Gene interrupted her with a quick pressure of her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Just like you, Margot. Your sense of humor gets a good fillip out of +something, then suddenly your desire to be helpful comes uppermost.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it wasn’t that. Don’t sentimentalize about me, Gene. It was only +that I felt that those girls, with their stereotyped prettiness and +vacuous vanity, probably needed work and money, far more than I did. +Then I laughed at myself realizing that they’d stand a better chance +of getting it in that place than I would. Then, my dear, we all got a +shock. Lulu Leinster, with that wonderful little head and body of +hers, walked into the room. <i>Her</i> hair <i>wasn’t</i> bobbed, and it was +glorious, hanging in two huge braids. Primitive hair, hurled at one’s +vision that way, was provocative—almost indecent.” Margot laughed +again, and stroked her own shorn locks. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a wonder, with your excessive modesty, that you didn’t depart at +once, leaving Lulu without a competitor.” Gene teased her with his +broad grin. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear, that’s <i>just</i> what I was on the point of doing, while Sam, +Stoner’s bodyguard, was flinging his questions at her, and she coolly +informed him that she’d been sent by a beauty contest committee in +Texas, she having won the prize. Then, before I knew it, Sam stood in +front of <i>me</i>, asking the same fool questions. The next thing I knew, +every girl in the room, except Lulu and me, was marching out, having +been told by Sam that they needn’t wait. He was so suave I wanted to +kick him. And the girls filed out, tossing their heads and clicking +their heels, and curling their angry lips. A few minutes later Sam +ushered us into Stoner’s august presence.” +</p> + +<p> +Margot interrupted her story to let Gene light a cigarette for her. +She took a few abstracted puffs, the smoke winding slowly upward from +her parted lips, then she told Gene how the director stood by his +desk, frowning at the two girls as they entered his sanctum. How he +then sat before his desk and addressed himself first to Lulu, asking +her name and address. How he disposed of Lulu and turned to Margot +with the same questions. Margot’s eyes darkened with excitement as she +stressed this part of her narrative. +</p> + +<p> +“I gave him my name, then my address. The minute I said 809 East +Forty-ninth Street, Stoner’s head jerked up, and his light blue eyes +looked straight into mine. He repeated the number of the house—not +the street—and his face was impassive, but suddenly I noticed his +eyes. The pupil dilated, and a sort of yellowish shadow darkened the +iris. I caught a strange shimmer in the eyeball, like dust specks seen +in a sunbeam. Of course I may have imagined it all, but that was the +very first time when I seemed to dread something in his eyes that +confused and mystified me.” +</p> + +<p> +Gene studied her reflectively. “What did he say after that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, he looked down at his desk, then up again at me, quickly, then he +remarked that I must have one foot in the East River. His eyes were as +blank as pale blue eyes can be, even in an intelligent head. I told +him that it was an easy step down, but not quite over. Then he stood +up and calmly told us that they only needed one more girl and that he +couldn’t decide which of us would screen the best without a test. He +told us to come back the following day. And oh, Gene, I never told you +what Lulu said to me.” Margot chuckled in gleeful remembrance. “When +we parted in New York she announced that she’d probably not see me +again. For a second I didn’t get it. I looked my surprise, then she +said: ‘Why—er—you ain’t going back there to-morrow?’ Then I +understood, and I asked her why not. She got a bit rattled and said +that she didn’t suppose I’d want to go to the bother. I smiled and +remarked that it wouldn’t be any more bother for me than for her. She +had the grace to stumble as she said: ‘Maybe my funny face is more +what they want than yours.’ I remarked that that fine point remained +to be proved, and that perhaps we’d <i>both</i> be chosen and become rival +stars. Poor little Lulu is short on humor. She didn’t see the joke. +Anyway, we met in the studio next day, and now, my dear Gene, I’ve +come to the really interesting part of my story.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me first, Margot, if you got the impression from the way Stoner +looked at you, that he admired you personally?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” Margot shrugged indifferently. “I don’t suppose he regarded me +as a piece of bric-a-brac, but what I mean had nothing to do with me +as a woman or an actress. Of course the impression faded and I felt, +afterwards, that I’d been over psychic or suspicious, as usual. But +that night the impression returned stronger than before. It even made +me hesitate about going back.” +</p> + +<p> +Margot told of being escorted by Sam—together with Lulu—to the stage +where a close-up of some scene was being registered. Margot had seen +interest flash in Stoner’s eyes when he saw the two girls waiting to +be noticed by him. He had chucked Lulu under the chin but had +refrained from a like playful greeting with Margot after one glance +into her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +He had again asked her name, then he had said: +</p> + +<p> +“So you live on Forty-ninth Street, in one of those ramshackle houses +built before the flood? What did you say the number was?” +</p> + +<p> +Margot had told him. +</p> + +<p> +“What floor do you live on?” +</p> + +<p> +“For a second,” said Margot, “I thought he meant to be impudent, but I +decided he meant nothing offensive, so I told him that I lived on the +first floor. Then he asked if my room was front or back. I had another +impulse to glare at him, but instead, I said politely that I had the +large room in the rear, and added that he seemed to know the house. It +was then that I thought I caught that queer glint in his eyes again, +and a slight challenge in his glance. He said indifferently that a +friend of his had lived in this house and that he hadn’t seen it for +years. He remarked that I must find the place uncomfortable and +inconvenient. I told him I didn’t. Then he announced that he would +make a test of Lulu first.” +</p> + +<p> +The two girls had been directed to put on make-up, and when they had +appeared properly mascaraed and powdered, he had indicated a place for +Lulu to stand. He had told her, with a good-natured grin, to think +hard of her “sweetie,” and to imagine she was meeting him by the light +of the moon, and that he was going to take her in his arms and hug +her. Lulu had smiled in full understanding and self-assurance and had +proceeded to spoil her beauty by a forced and absurd expression of +rapturous parted lips. Stoner had groaned. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Lord, that won’t do! Think again, not so hard, maybe. Relax! Try +to feel what you’d really feel if the fellow you love stood right in +my boots!” Stoner had laughed boisterously at his little joke. +</p> + +<p> +That time Lulu had done much better. Margot, watching her, had decided +that Lulu had the making of a good movie actress—above the +average—and this impression was followed by the humble assurance that +she would certainly not register as well in this silly test as the +little beauty-contest girl, whose egoism was of so different a +variety. If Stoner had needed two girls, perhaps she could have passed +muster, but not in competition with Lulu. +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” Margot went on with a laugh, “I heard Stoner calling me. I +remembered what I’d been asked when I was a kid:—which would I +prefer, be a greater fool than I looked, or look a greater fool than I +be. I knew I’d explode if he invoked the figure of an absent lover. +But Stoner isn’t a fool. He took me by surprise by telling me to +imagine that I’d just seen—was still looking at—something that froze +my blood with horror. Somebody run over or murdered. Or, better still, +I must register the emotion that would overcome me if I were alone in +the dark, and suddenly saw something that didn’t belong +there—something spooky, with an agonized face, calling for mercy. +Wasn’t it uncanny, his striking that note of fear and horror, +considering what happened so soon afterwards?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it was,” agreed Gene quickly. “You don’t need to tell me how you +registered those faked emotions. The results speak for themselves. He +selected <i>you</i> instead of Lulu.” +</p> + +<p> +Margot leaned forward excitedly, and put her hand on Gene’s arm. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s just the odd part of the whole performance—something I’ve +never told you before, Gene. As to how I registered, I guess I didn’t +do badly. Either Stoner’s surprising eloquence or the memory of a +ghost story heard years ago, that had made my blood run +cold—literally—or whatever it was, my imagination took fire and I +actually saw before me, for that moment, the thing of horror. Funny, +but I never thought of that odd coincidence until to-day. Well, Lulu +told me afterwards that my eyes dilated, and my lips quivered. In +short I ‘registered,’ and Stoner gave an expression of approval. Then +he looked from Lulu to me, and finally he said: +</p> + +<p> +“ ‘You’re all right!’ ” He shifted his gaze back to Lulu, and said: “ ‘So +are you, girlie. Damned if I know which of you is the best. Have to +wait and see the proofs. Come back to-morrow morning or stick around +now for a few hours.’ ” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course we told him we’d return the next day. Lulu’s rapturous +smile seemed to indicate that she was sure of what the proofs would +show. We started to leave and at the far end of the stage, within a +few feet of the entrance, we heard Stoner’s stentorian call, asking us +to go back a minute. He was whispering to Sam and one of the camera +men. Then he came up to us and said: +</p> + +<p> +“ ‘I’ve decided not to wait for those pictures. ’Tisn’t necessary. I +can tell just from looking at you two, which one is the best—the +best, anyway, for <i>my</i> purposes.’ ” +</p> + +<p> +“I felt Lulu tremble with excitement. I thought I saw again that faint +glitter in Stoner’s pale eyes. Then, looking at me he said: +</p> + +<p> +“ ‘It’s you I want, Miss Anstruther. Come back to-morrow to start work. +The part you’ll get isn’t a small one. It’ll mean work.’ ” +</p> + +<p> +Margot told Gene of poor little Lulu’s sobbing disappointment, and of +Stoner’s attempt to console her by advising her not to be soft, and +not to mind, as it was all in the game, and it was a hard, hard world +anyway. He had ended by saying that he had chosen Margot because she +suited the part in the picture, better than Lulu. He had been speaking +to Lulu, but Margot had caught his gaze fixed upon herself. Intuition +told her that he had chosen her for personal reasons. She had +registered fairly well, but so had Lulu, and Lulu was decidedly more +the screen type of beauty, with her fine profile and wonderful hair. +</p> + +<p> +“You see, Gene,” Margot summed up eagerly, “my first conclusion was +that I’d made a strong appeal to Stoner. Perhaps I saw that much in +his eyes, but there was something else in his eyes. It eluded and +mocked me, but it was there—something that was neither admiration nor +desire. I felt half inclined to refuse his offer, when I heard him +telling Lulu that since she was so unhappy, he’d fix her up. There was +a girl on the lot who needed a rest. He’d give her a vacation on full +pay and Lulu could have her part in <i>A Toreador’s Love</i>. Only the part +of a lady’s maid, but if Lulu wanted it—etc., etc. And then he said +to me—while Lulu was washing her face, that he hoped we’d be friends, +and that he hoped I’d let him call on me some evening soon.” +</p> + +<p> +Margot could not resist a dramatic pause, just to give Gene a chance +to frown in angry indignation. He did not disappoint her. +</p> + +<p> +“Damn nerve! What did you tell him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I was on the point of giving him a sharp retort, when he said, +casually: +</p> + +<p> +“ ‘What was that number again? 809 East 49th Street?’ ” +</p> + +<p> +“Once again I was arrested by the look in his eyes—that strange +yellowish shadow covering the blue of the iris, and the dilating of +the pupil. That’s all, Gene, but I’d like to know what you make of +it?” +</p> + +<p> +Gene looked puzzled and uncertain. “You mean—why he chose you instead +of Lulu Leinster?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, of course, that’s what I mean.” +</p> + +<p> +“Search <i>me</i>, Margot. You make it all sound very mysterious, and you +draw a picture of old fat Stoner that’s far more interesting and +thrilling than anything he can ever hope to be in the flesh.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps you think my imagination’s gone wild along with my brain. No, +old dear. Just think hard, a minute. Don’t you honestly think it +rather strange—in all the circumstances—that he should have chosen +me? And remember all I’ve told you about his eyes, especially in +connection with my living in this house!” +</p> + +<p> +Gene threw back his head with a jerk of sudden astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“You think Stoner’s connected in some way—in the past—with this +house—with what’s happened here?” Gene’s blue eyes were troubled and +mystified. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Margot slowly, “I’m not <i>sure</i> of anything, and it’s too +soon to draw any definite conclusions about Stoner or anything else, +but I do feel that in some way that I can’t fathom, Stoner has a +personal reason for wanting me to drop the investigation of my little +mystery.” +</p> + +<p> +Gene pondered that a moment, then he said abruptly: +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t get it at all, Margot. I’m convinced that all those weird +expressions you’ve been seeing in Stoner’s eyes, can be boiled down to +just one thing—his mad admiration for you, my dear girl.” +</p> + +<p> +Margot jumped to her feet, and seized Gene’s hand with a laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s about enough from you for one night, old silly. I’m tired out +anyway, and poor Quinlan’s half hour has stretched out till I dare say +he’s ready to kill me. So off with you, Gene! See you to-morrow, and +here’s hoping you’ll have done some heavy thinking in the meantime!” +</p> + +<p> +She let him kiss her good-night, then she ran down stairs to tell +Quinlan that he could return to his official duties. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch06"> +CHAPTER VI.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE MIDNIGHT PROWLER</span> +</h3> + +<p> +<span class="sc">Margot</span> was to sleep on a cot in Mrs. Bellew’s basement. She made a +rite of brushing her thick reddish hair, and invariably let her mind +wander while she did it. Mrs. Bellew’s chatter had the effect of +dripping water. It made her sleepy, and she was horribly tired. Some +sixth sense told her that sleep was not for her that night; that the +mystery would soon take a new and fantastic turn. +</p> + +<p> +With bored disgust she discovered that she had forgotten to bring down +her pyjamas. She started for the stairs, then turned back into the +basement room. She told Mrs. Bellew that she didn’t want to go up to +her room alone. No reason whatever, Quinlan being so decent, but she +felt nervous, and would Mrs. Bellew mind going up with her? Mrs. +Bellew cheerfully assured her that she didn’t mind at all. +</p> + +<p> +They climbed the stairs and knocked lightly on the door. Quinlan let +them in and they stood for a moment with him in the dark. Margot, her +voice instinctively pitched very low, explained her errand. Then she +whispered to Quinlan: +</p> + +<p> +“Seen or heard anything?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Miss.” Quinlan’s was a veritable stage whisper. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly he stiffened and threw his arm out to bar Margot’s way, as +she started in the direction of her closet. +</p> + +<p> +“Shh!” he admonished tensely. +</p> + +<p> +Margot stood stock still, as she heard Mrs. Bellew’s stifled cry of +fear. They heard a faint scraping sound. It seemed to come from the +roof-garden, the door leading to which was open a few inches. Quinlan +had left it so. Then, the shadow of a human being fell slantwise on +the curtain over the door, and loomed large against the rift of light +from the street lamp. Faint creaking of the door pushing inward; a +figure, indistinct, crouching uncertainly; then upright, stepping more +boldly into the room, and moving slowly toward them. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Bellew’s terror broke in a shriek. Quinlan lunged forward and +seized the intruder. Margot dashed for the switch-button in the wall, +and flooded the room with light. +</p> + +<p> +A girl stood there, her shoulders pinioned from behind by Quinlan’s +big hands; a girl with white, drawn face; a black-browed, sullen young +creature, who uttered no sound of fear or pain. Too astonished to move +or speak, Margot stared. Then another shriek resounded in the room. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s Stella—Stella Ball!” Mrs. Bellew managed to gasp the words. +</p> + +<p> +Margot trembled with excitement. Her breath came short. +</p> + +<p> +“The girl who lived in this room?” +</p> + +<p> +“Herself—oh, my God!” The landlady was on the verge of frenzied +hysteria. +</p> + +<p> +Margot swung fiercely about to the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell us what it all means!” she commanded sternly. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll tell you nothing!” The retort was almost vicious in its quick +intensity. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll make you talk quick enough,” growled Quinlan. +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t committed any crime.” She made the assertion unwhiningly. +“You can’t do anything to me!” +</p> + +<p> +“I arrest you for unlawful entry, with intent to commit a burglary. +Guess that’ll do for the present.” +</p> + +<p> +The girl’s lips clamped stubbornly. There was a touch of pride in her +defiance. Margot was conscious of it, and sudden pity gave her the +impulse to ask Quinlan to release the girl. Her connection with the +mystery seemed remote indeed, if not highly improbable. Her coming was +merely coincidental. Then—— +</p> + +<p> +Margot’s glance fell to the girl’s right arm. The grip of Quinlan’s +fingers had pulled the sleeve up. The arm had been cut off at the +elbow! Margot’s gaping eyes saw the scar of a freshly healed wound. It +made a grim patch of color against the white of her arm. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Bellew’s frightened eyes went from Stella Ball’s blanched face to +the stub of her right arm. A horrified, fixed stare, then a third +shriek from the landlady. “My God! She had both arms when she left +this house!” +</p> + +<p> +Stella’s thin little face lost its expressionless rigidity. She +smiled; a strange, twisted ghost of a smile, on one side of her mouth, +yet it had humor, that smile, humor wasted of course on Mrs. Bellew, +but startling to Margot. +</p> + +<p> +“Hell of a lot you know how I looked when I left your shanty. Didn’t +happen to see me light out, did you?” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Bellew was too far overcome with nervous excitement to have any +other emotion, so she did not resent the girl’s impudence. Margot, +watching intently, saw the smile on Stella’s face vanish as quickly as +it had appeared. Her face hardened again, her lips grew tight with a +bitterness in tragic contrast to the youth of her face, as she looked +at the lurid scar which had riveted Margot’s attention. Then she gave +an angry hitch to her right shoulder, twisting her sleeve out of +Quinlan’s grip, so that it fell over and covered her disfigured arm. +</p> + +<p> +“Let go of her, please, Mr. Quinlan!” Margot’s quick command was +spoken gently enough, but Quinlan removed his hands from Stella’s thin +shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +Being momentarily deprived of action, Quinlan found release for his +tongue. He stood with arms crossed, regarding the girl with an angry +scowl. +</p> + +<p> +“Think ye’re smart, don’t ye now, disturbin’ honest folks, and scarin’ +this nice young lady out of a year’s growth and raisin’ hell +generally, just to do a little stealin’ where there ain’t nothin’ to +steal, far as I can make out.” +</p> + +<p> +The girl flashed a defiant look at him. +</p> + +<p> +“Who says I came to steal?” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>I</i> says it, for one!” Quinlan gave her look for look. “Your kind—or +any other kind—don’t come sneakin’ in other people’s windows and +doors, just for their health. They come to get something—that’s what +they come for—or maybe,” he bent a threatening scowl upon her, “maybe +they come to murder somebody.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Bellew gave a low cry and shuddered closer to Margot. +</p> + +<p> +“Ain’t you the smart Alec!” Stella’s twisted smile at Quinlan was not +flattering. “Maybe I did come to get something. This used to be my +room. Maybe I came to get something I left behind, when I beat it on +such short notice.” Her smile of mockery went from the policeman to +the landlady. +</p> + +<p> +“I took all your things down stairs, Stella. I’ll give them to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Didn’t have to sneak back to get what belongs to ye. There’s a front +door to this house, if ye know how to use it.” Quinlan’s sarcasm was a +little heavy. He was no match for the girl, Margot thought, amused in +spite of all that the scene evoked and might well signify. +</p> + +<p> +“Front doors are good ’nough for some people—the kind that wouldn’t +dare come in any other way. ’Fraid for their precious skins, maybe.” +</p> + +<p> +“Say, look a-here, Miss Smartie! If you’d come back on the level, to +get your belongin’s, why didn’t ye tell this young lady so, when ye +found the room was occupied?” +</p> + +<p> +“Saa-y!” The girl’s sweeping scorn of Quinlan, was comic. “Hell of a +chance you gave me to tell anybody anything, grabbing me with those +dainty mitts of yours, in the pitch dark, before you saw who or what I +was!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not talkin’ about your little stunt to-night, comin’ in from that +roof, and gettin’ caught red-handed, I might say. I’m talkin’ about +night before last when ye honored this young lady with a call and +pretty near frightened her to death.” +</p> + +<p> +Stella’s eyes opened and stared in a surprise that struck Margot as +strangely genuine. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t know what you’re trying to celebrate, Mr. Officer-of-the-Law. +This is the first time I’ve come to this room since I left it when I +was living here. I wasn’t in this room night before last.” +</p> + +<p> +It was Quinlan’s turn to retaliate with a scorn as scathing as her +own. +</p> + +<p> +“No, you wasn’t here night before last! Yes, we have no bananas! +I—don’t—<i>think</i>!” +</p> + +<p> +“I wasn’t! Think what you damn please!” A flash of anger quickened the +tired lifelessness of Stella’s blue eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Quinlan moved a step nearer to her, and thrust his head out at her. +</p> + +<p> +“You wasn’t hidin’ under that brass bed, for the Lord knows how long +before Miss Anstruther went to bed, and you didn’t stick your hand and +arm out from under the bed and put a burnin’ match out, after the +young lady had switched off her electric light?” +</p> + +<p> +The surprise in Stella’s eyes changed slowly to astonishment, then +another, more subtle change came to them. Margot, with active brain +and unwavering, watchful gaze, and uncanny power to read back of the +human eye, saw in Stella’s something that she could not analyze, but +something that convinced her as no words could have done, that the +girl was telling the truth and that Quinlan’s remarks had quickened a +wondering speculation in her mind, concerning something of sinister +import to Margot’s mystery. +</p> + +<p> +“I wasn’t in this room night before last. Take that or leave it! I +should worry!” +</p> + +<p> +Sudden inspiration came to Quinlan. +</p> + +<p> +“Then if ye wasn’t here yerself, ye know damn well who <i>was</i> here!” +Intuition or reason, whichever it was, Margot thought, Quinlan was +less “dumb” than he had appeared up to now. +</p> + +<p> +Stella threw him a startled, questioning look, then her lips grew +sullen and her eyes hard. +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s get a move on,” she said laconically. “Don’t suppose you want +to entertain me here for the night. Ain’t you just bursting to show me +your hospitality somewheres else?” +</p> + +<p> +“See here, Miss Stella Ball, if that’s yer name. Suppose ye spill a +little information about the friend of yours that hid under Miss +Anstruther’s bed the other night. Give us the dope—the real dope and +all of it, and we’ll see what we can do about lettin’ ye off with a +minimum sentence, maybe none at all.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve got nothing to say about anything, because I don’t know nothing +about nothing! See?” Stella gave Quinlan another of her twisted +smiles, touched with an ironic humor. +</p> + +<p> +“Won’t save yerself by squealin’, is that it?” Quinlan’s naturally +good-humored mouth had a more kindly expression. +</p> + +<p> +“No, that ain’t it!” Her reply was as enigmatic as it was brief and +final. +</p> + +<p> +They could get nothing more out of her. She remained stubbornly +silent, her face reverting to its original hard blankness. Quinlan +told her she’d have to go with him, arrested on the charge of unlawful +entry. Then he turned to Margot, with the air of being the Heaven-sent +sleuth and unraveler of mysteries which the case had so urgently +required. +</p> + +<p> +“Guess you can come right back to this room and have a good night’s +sleep, Miss Anstruther. Guess no more spooks is goin’ to disturb your +rest, from now on. There’ll be those as’ll know how to get the truth +out of this girl, to-night or to-morrow. Guess ye’re safe enough now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait a minute, Mr. Quinlan.” Margot addressed the policeman but her +eyes were on Stella Ball. “You seem to be sure that either this girl +or some confederate of hers, was under my bed night before last, and +put out the match I dropped on the rug. But how about the hand and arm +that Boyle saw, when <i>he</i> was alone in this room, putting out a light +that didn’t even exist?” +</p> + +<p> +Margot saw a quickly suppressed shudder, a swift lifting then closing +of lids over startled blue eyes, then stillness on the impassive face +of Stella Ball. Quinlan saw nothing. He was busy preparing a reply to +Margot’s question. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a friend I am of Shane Boyle’s, Miss Anstruther, but it’s only +tellin’ the truth I am, when I say that Boyle bein’ born in the auld +country, and comin’ here when he was full grown, is as full of +superstition as a dog is full of flees. It stands to reason, Miss, +that whoever it was put the match out when you lay in that brass bed, +wasn’t doin’ the self-same thing for Boyle’s benefit, because whoever +it was, got out of this room before ever any of the rest of us set +foot in it. That’s as sure as that I’m standin’ on me two feet this +very minute. So it stands to reason, don’t it, that what Boyle saw, +came out of the square Irish head on him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think so, Mr. Quinlan?” Again she spoke to Quinlan but looked +at Stella. +</p> + +<p> +“Sure, I think so. What else could I think?” +</p> + +<p> +At Margot’s simple question, Stella again lifted heavy lids and +dropped them as quickly. In her tired blue eyes Margot caught a vague +question and challenge directed at herself. Then Quinlan departed with +his prisoner. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch07"> +CHAPTER VII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">SPOOKS AND THE PRESS</span> +</h3> + +<p> +<span class="sc">Margot</span> and Mrs. Bellew returned to the basement for the night, +locking Margot’s room on the outside. Another sleepless night would +play the mischief with her looks, but Margot found sleep an +impossibility. She wished she could call Gene and tell him what had +happened since he left the house, but she decided to wait until the +following day. +</p> + +<p> +With tired brain and thoughts spinning around as actively in sleep as +when awake, and far more fatiguingly so, Margot had about three hours +of unconsciousness. Then, as on the previous morning, a hot tub, a +cold shower, setting-up exercises, a little make-up, and she looked, +even if she didn’t feel, as good as new, she decided, after careful +scrutiny of her face. +</p> + +<p> +She decided to be late to the studio, and move all her belongings from +the room she had occupied, to one which Mrs. Bellew had offered her, +on the floor above. The landlady and her housemaid helped Margot in +the process of moving up the one flight. She said that for the +present, she would take with her only her personal effects. It was +best, she told Mrs. Bellew, to leave the room intact, in case any +further inspection should be deemed advisable by the police +department. Therefore she did not remove her rugs, nor hangings, nor +other articles of room adornment, which belonged to her. She rather +expected to hear further from the police before the morning was over, +she told the landlady. +</p> + +<p> +About ten o’clock, the plainclothes man Hart arrived, asked Margot a +few superfluous questions, then gave his orders that Margot’s +room—the room of the bodiless hand from under the bed—was to be +turned over to the police department. A man from the Force was to be +left there, day and night, and the key would be kept by the police. +Hart assured Margot that although theft was probably the motive for +the midnight visitation—granted that there had been any such +appearance as she had described—he was sure that criminal intent to +do bodily injury was not involved, and as to anything of a +supernatural nature, that was of course ridiculous. +</p> + +<p> +It struck Margot as ridiculous that the police should occupy her old +room as a field for research in a case which they insisted was neither +criminal nor supernatural. But she refrained from telling Hart what +she thought about it. +</p> + +<p> +Before she left the house at one o’clock, already two reporters and +three news photographers had made their unwelcome appearance. It was +evident that the rest of the day would bring other relays of the +inquisitive pests. She was glad to escape, leaving poor, harassed Mrs. +Bellew to do the honors. Of course the garrulous landlady would talk +of things she knew not, and say many things that the newspaper men +would twist to suit themselves, but Margot knew that it mattered very +little what was or was not made public in the way of news regarding +her adventure. The publicity itself was the one inescapable fact. +</p> + +<p> +The morning papers had had nothing regarding the affair, so there was +as yet no need to dread an encounter with Stoner. She had decided not +to tell Gene, should she meet him at the studio, of Stella Ball’s +unexpected re-appearance, until the evening. +</p> + +<p> +On her arrival at Astoria, keyed to make excuses for her late arrival, +and to remind Stoner of her fruitless and long hours of waiting the +day before, Margot found that the screening of <i>A Toreador’s Love</i> was +held up for a few days, possibly for a week. Some blunder on the part +of the art director. The set had to be revamped. It was one of the +frequent movie comedies of errors, which they had all learned to take +philosophically. All but Stoner, who was in a condition of blasphemous +wrath. He must indeed be upset, Margot delightedly observed, not even +to notice her late arrival. +</p> + +<p> +Corinne Delamar darted acid comments through the slats of her +dressing-room on wheels. The minor members of the cast had been told +to get out of the way. The girls she knew crowded around Margot, +asking if she had seen her spook the night before, and if that was why +she was so late at the studio. To all questions she smiled and said +that she believed her ghost was laid, that she had seen nothing weird +the previous night, and that she was late to the studio, merely +because she was tired from her previous adventure. +</p> + +<p> +As a matter of policy and precaution, she hung around the studio until +late in the afternoon, then disappeared before the other girls were +ready to leave. Gene did not go with her, but in a hurried interview +between them it had been arranged for him to come for her later and +take her out for dinner. +</p> + +<p> +The first thing she did on arrival in New York, was to buy an evening +paper. The headlines of the early edition greeted her; headlines about +herself; bantering, hateful headlines: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="center"> +<i>SPOOKS PURSUE FILM BEAUTY—<br> +ACTRESS AND COP GET GHOSTLY<br> +BURGLAR—MOVIE GIRL REPORTS +ROOM HAUNTED.</i> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +Well—she had known what to expect. But at least she could put a check +on the melodramatic absurdity of it all. She wished to goodness she +had stayed at home that day and talked with all the reporters herself. +Trust foolish Mrs. Bellew to make things as absolutely ridiculous as +possible! She hurried home, called up the leading newspapers, and +requested that they send special men to interview her that evening. It +would, she believed, ensure a more rational version of the story, at +least. +</p> + +<p> +Dining with Gene, she gave him a detailed description of what had +occurred the night before, but she omitted all comment as to her +impressions or deductions. She wasn’t ready yet to go into all that. +Later in the evening, after she had interviewed the newspaper men, she +would take Gene fully into her confidence. +</p> + +<p> +He disapproved of her remaining in the same house. Why on earth did +she want to do that? he asked her. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” she said, with one of her cryptic smiles, “I have my reasons, +old dear. They may be foolish ones, time will tell, but in the +meantime, I’ve made up my mind to stay right in that house of +mystery.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right, my dear. I always respect the results of your mental +processes, but sometimes the processes themselves leave me in the +air.” +</p> + +<p> +“A very comfortable place for the present, Gene. You may wish you’d +stayed up in that safe region, before we get through with this thing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not unless you were up there with me,” he smiled back at her. +</p> + +<p> +Later in the evening, after Margot had flattered and flustered and +successfully maneuvered the newspaper men, and had given each one a +cocktail with which to drink to her success as a star in filmdom and +as a detective in her field of mystery, she and Gene settled down in +her new room to a serious talk. +</p> + +<p> +“As I see it,” she summed up, “this mystery is a perfectly normal one. +It’s my firm belief that it will turn out to be more important to +students of crime than to the Society for Psychical Research. +Moreover, the best detective methods are the only methods that will +solve it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Meaning—Cornelius Hart and his hot-on-the-trail assistants?” His +smile expressed the scorn he shared with her as regards the +plainclothes man. +</p> + +<p> +“Absurd bungler, isn’t he? First he laughed at my story, and ridiculed +Boyle. Then he woke up when Stella came on the screen, but he can’t +get a word out of her. She’s much too clever for him. And his +investigations in this house consist of watching for something new to +happen, which isn’t <i>going</i> to happen. The dub isn’t using what brain +he happens to have.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s your idea? To go to one of the private agencies and get one of +their men? The trouble is the price, dear. They charge at least twenty +dollars a day.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, nothing like that.” She laughed and struck her chest with a comic +gesture. “Little one, you see before you the real Sherlock Holmes in +the plot! <i>I</i> am going to apply to the case the expert methods I +referred to. And of course you’re going to help me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Righto!” He smiled, then grew more serious. “All very fine, Margot, +but for all your cleverness and powers of analysis, I don’t quite see +what you’ve got to go on.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you! Well, now listen. Get down to bedrock and to essentials. I +saw an apparently unattached arm. The next night Stella Ball sneaked +into my room. Stella Ball has comparatively recently had her right arm +amputated at the elbow. I believe that these three strange, apparently +unrelated facts, are actually, if mysteriously, related.” +</p> + +<p> +Gene couldn’t control a slight shudder. +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t that going back to the spook theory you said you’d rejected? +Surely you don’t mean, Margot, that you think it was a psychic +manifestation of some sort,—the girl sending her arm ahead of her, or +something of that sort? You can’t be serious!” +</p> + +<p> +“Not that way, no. That’s too absurd! But let me go on. For some +reason the hand I actually saw—for keep in mind that I <i>did</i> see <span class="sc">a +hand</span>!—found it important to put out lights on the floor. Stella Ball +had lived in that same room. For all we know, she might, in the past, +have penetrated its secret. Last night she may have come either to +help or to thwart that hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean? In putting out the lights on the rug?” Gene was +making a valiant effort to treat Margot’s theories with the respect +she demanded. +</p> + +<p> +“Not necessarily. I’m trying to stick to logic. It’s always so easy to +regard a sequence of odd occurrences as mere coincidence. Gene, think +me a fool if you like, but I’m dead sure that the hand had a living +owner. I’m very nearly as sure that Stella and the owner of the hand +were after something in that room of which they both have knowledge.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! Then you don’t think the hand you saw belonged to the girl?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I don’t. Of course I have no theory as yet as to <i>what</i> they were +after. The flames on the carpet will probably prove to have a lot to +do with it. So will the fact of Stella being armless.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gosh!” Gene heaved a sigh of despair. “Frankly, Margot, you’ve got me +out of my depth. Look here! Granted that you and then Boyle saw a +human hand and arm, how do you explain the way it vanished both times? +Wouldn’t it argue a hiding place for the body belonging to the arm?” +</p> + +<p> +Margot’s face glowed with enthusiasm. She put out an eager hand and +squeezed Gene’s. +</p> + +<p> +“Bully for you! You’ve struck the nail on the head! Of course, it +argues just that.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, good Lord, the place has been searched thoroughly. It’s the one +little thing the police have done. You can’t think anything’s been +overlooked?” +</p> + +<p> +“Naturally I think it. If you’ve ever dropped your collar button, +Gene, you must realize that looking in vain for it twenty times +doesn’t prove that you only imagined you had the collar button.” +</p> + +<p> +Her sense of humor was indestructible, and Gene smiled, but his own +humor expressed itself with a note of sarcasm. +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose the intruder might have hidden between the spring and +mattress of your bed?” +</p> + +<p> +Her merry laugh was incongruous with the sense of mystery that +increased with everything she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Quinlan took that idea quite seriously, if you remember. Nothing +living or dead could have lived through the pounding he gave the bed +with his nightstick.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do be serious, dear. How about the fireplace?” +</p> + +<p> +“Serious! And you make a suggestion like that!” She laughed again. +“Naturally not the fireplace. It’s several feet from the bed. If the +creature could have reached the fireplace without my hearing or seeing +it, then it could have got to the door just as easily.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I give it up!” Gene lighted a cigarette with the air of seeking +consolation where he could reasonably hope to find it. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I don’t—not by a good deal. I don’t <i>know</i> anything. What I’m +really doing, Gene, is to follow the Sherlock Holmes method of +discarding the alternatives that are obviously impossible.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked at her sharply. “You mean—there remains an alternative—an +escape—which doesn’t strike you as impossible?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +Gene got quickly to his feet. “Come on,” he said eagerly, seizing her +by the hand. “Show it to me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Go easy, Gene! We mustn’t tamper with a thing. It’s best to direct +the police what to do. But we can take a look, if we can make some +excuse to get that policeman out of the room for a little while. I’m +not keen on taking <i>him</i> into my confidence.” She got up and moved to +the door, still speaking: “You see, the <i>object</i> of Stella’s return to +that room is what I want to——” +</p> + +<p> +She was interrupted by a sharp rap on the door. Cool as Margot looked +and felt, she gave a slight start, then she stood back to let Gene +open the door. A messenger boy stood there holding out a yellow +envelope, and piping “Telegram!” +</p> + +<p> +While Gene signed for her, and shut the door after the departing boy, +Margot tore open the message. Then she handed it to Gene. Her gray +eyes looked troubled and her mouth drooped at the corners. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you make out of this?” +</p> + +<p> +Gene read it aloud, in a slow, puzzled fashion. +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +“<i>See me at the studio to-morrow morning without fail.</i> +</p> + +<p class="rt1"> +“<span class="sc">Corinne Delamar.</span>” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +“It looks as if what you said Stoner told you about her +high-and-mightiness was correct. She’s probably furious because you’ve +broken into the papers. What other reason could she have for sending +you such a message?” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s it, of course, but I’ll bet Stoner put her up to it. I had a +feeling when he talked to me, that he was inventing the thing for some +purpose of his own. She isn’t a bad sort, you know. I don’t believe +she’d have dreamed of being jealous of me if someone hadn’t put her up +to it. Well, it can’t be helped. I’ll sleep on it. We’ll have to +postpone our detective work. I must be clear-eyed and clear-brained to +tackle Delamar in the morning.” +</p> + +<p> +Her good-night kiss to Gene was hardly what his lover’s desire could +be satisfied with. He held her for a moment, whispering of his love +for her, but he knew her well enough to realize that until Margot +should have disposed of Corinne Delamar, and Stoner and a few other +details such as the mystery of the hand and arm, he could expect +little response to his passion. Wisely he let it go at that. +</p> + +<p> +That night Margot dreamed—a strangely vivid dream—not of Stella +Ball, nor of the mystic hand and arm, nor of Corinne Delamar, still +less of Gene whom she had begun to love. She dreamed (and awoke from +the dream, trembling and longing to cry out, as one feels on awaking +from a nightmare) of Stoner; not Stoner attempting to force his coarse +passion upon her; not Stoner enraged at her for disobeying his orders +to drop all probing into the mystery of her room; but Stoner, looking +at her as he had looked that first day when she had given him her +address, looking at her with pupils dilated, the overtone as of a +yellowish shadow darkening his pale blue eyes; the shimmer in the +eyeball like dust-specks in a sunbeam! +</p> + +<p> +Wide awake, she shivered and lay thinking for hours… thinking.… +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch08"> +CHAPTER VIII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE CLAWS OF JEALOUSY</span> +</h3> + +<p> +<span class="sc">Margot</span> arrived at Astoria at about ten o’clock on the following +morning. She raised clear eyes to the zenith, praising, whatever it +was she was accustomed to praise deep in her soul, that the sky in its +blue immensity was there above her, promising unseen glorious things +beyond her ken. Mere joy of living made her face sparkle in response +to the sparkle of the sun, and she took in deep breaths of tingling +air, which quickened the flow of blood in her young body, and brought +a brighter color to her cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +Probably the one precious gift of the gods which should have meant +more to her than beauty or vigor or quick wits, was the one on which +she placed the least value, taking it for granted, as those who are +very young invariably regard the short-lived possession of <i>youth</i>. In +spite of three successive sleepless nights, much excitement and +considerable nerve strain, youth had refreshed itself from unguessed +sources. No one would have imagined, to look at Margot, that she had +anything more weighty to consider than whatever immediate and trivial +objective might lie before her. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless she was conscious of an increasing annoyance as she +approached the studio. The impertinence of Corinne Delamar’s +imperative dispatch, created an irritation which was close to angry +indignation by the time she entered the big edifice. A sudden decision +not to appear too hasty in her response to the star’s command, made +her take a roundabout way to the dressing-room which she shared with +other girls. +</p> + +<p> +A confusion of props and other scenic paraphernalia, stood about near +the stairway leading up to the girls’ dressing-room. The place seemed +momentarily deserted. She heard hammering and voices over at the end +of the vast stage, but at the end near the stairway there appeared to +be no one. +</p> + +<p> +With one foot on the bottom step, she heard a slight sound that +arrested her. Deliberately she stood still and listened. The sound +referred to was the use of her own name in the voice of Miss Delamar, +and the voice came from the other side of a large piece of scenery +which completely cut off the view of the stairs. Margot had no idea +what Corinne had said about her; she heard only her name, but +forthwith she determined to know what further the star intended to say +about her. The old saying about listeners, might well apply in this +case, but Margot felt that in all the circumstances—and the fact that +she felt an instinctive mistrust of Stoner—she was justified in using +whatever self-defensive weapons chance might offer her. +</p> + +<p> +Then she heard a man’s voice—in a second she recognized it as +Stoner’s—saying: +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t let her put anything over on you. She’ll have her own story to +tell, of course, but just you stick to the main fact—the only one +that cuts any ice with you—that being that she’s got herself in the +limelight just when you need all you can damn well get for yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you want me to say to her? The harm’s done. She’s been +headlined in all the papers. That <i>can’t</i> be undone.” Corinne sounded +a little querulous. +</p> + +<p> +“You can raise merry hell with her, can’t you? Make her sorry she +didn’t put the lid on tight to this idiotic mystery stuff, as I warned +her to. Make her sorry she’s alive, if you have to. Sorry so far as +her job here is concerned, or any other job in pictures. Between us we +could queer her with any other company.” Stoner’s voice was rasping +with irritability. +</p> + +<p> +A slight pause, then Corinne said: +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve got a bee in my bonnet and you’re determined to make it keep +on buzzing. If you hadn’t put it into my head, I’d never have thought +that Margot Anstruther having a mysterious adventure which has got +into the papers, could have a thing to do with <i>my</i> getting press +publicity. As a matter of fact, why haven’t you seen to it yourself, +Fred?” +</p> + +<p> +“Good Lord, I’ve done every damn thing I can to push you, my dear +girl, and you know it.” +</p> + +<p> +Strangely familiar words, Margot thought with a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll tell you flat what I <i>do</i> know!” Corinne’s rather light voice +vibrated with sudden feeling. “You’re more interested in that girl +than you’re willing to admit. Don’t think me a fool, my dear Fred. +Both my eyes and ears are normal, and I’ve seen and heard things.” +</p> + +<p> +Margot heard Stoner’s low laugh of amused contempt. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you women! The girl’s got talent of course, and the artist I +flatter myself I am, recognized it and made use of it. Why not, will +you tell me? All women have to be flattered to get good results, +whether it’s work or play.” His laugh was teasing, patronizing. “But +as to my feeling any deeply <i>personal</i> interest in Miss Anstruther, +why you’re a fool to imagine it for a moment.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, my dear Fred, don’t get away with the idea that I would +make any fuss or try to force an issue with you, where there isn’t +one. I mean this. It’s been no question of marriage between you and +me. I’d bow to the woman who could inspire you to want to get married. +But—and it’s a big one—I’ll not stand for your having an affair with +Margot Anstruther or any other girl, and let things go on as before +between you and me, no matter how much I happen to be indebted to you +for being a star so early in the game.” +</p> + +<p> +“Laying down the law, is that it, my dear?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that’s precisely it. If you can get that girl to take my place +to your complete satisfaction—in or out of marriage—why go to it, +old dear, but count me out—not only of your personal life but out of +your picture.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re not such a fool as to threaten to quit work on this picture in +the middle of it, just out of jealous spite over another woman?” He +had raised his voice and it vibrated angrily. +</p> + +<p> +“No, you big nut, I don’t mean that. I’m not going to cut off my nose +to spite my face just out of jealousy, but I’ll do it in a jiffy if +there’s real foundation for that jealousy.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean, if you found out that I’m interested in Margot +Anstruther—let’s say, for the sake of argument, in love with +her—you’d leave me and my big picture high and dry, and I’d have to +begin the thing all over again with another actress?” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly!” Corinne’s voice was crisp and cool. “And I have a sweet +picture, dear Freddie, of what you’d hear from the Superfilm +production manager when he would find out that your infatuation for a +new girl cost the company thousands of dollars.” +</p> + +<p> +“You little devil!” There was nothing jocular in the remark. “Well, +now listen to <i>me</i>! If I really cared a damn about this girl Margot, +I’d see you or any other woman in Jericho, before I’d be threatened or +dictated to. But if it’ll smooth your feathers to know the truth, here +it is, little one. Personally, Margot means nothing to me. I’m +interested in her work, and I’ve got a certain curiosity about this +mystery story of hers. Detective stuff <i>always</i> interests me. So if +you see me talking to her, you can be sure it’s either about work in +the studio or about her ghosts. But as to this publicity stunt, we’ve +got to choke it off, and I depend on you, Corinne, to do what you can +with her. Give her a scare, and see what <i>that’ll</i> do.” +</p> + +<p> +The tone of finality in Stoner’s long-winded speech, made Margot run +lightly away from the staircase. The interview between Corinne and +Stoner was probably ended, and the quicker Margot got out of the +danger zone, the better. She hurried back to the front entrance, and +came sauntering in, again walking directly to the end of the stage +where work was going on. She had a vague plan to encounter the +director first, see what he might have to say, then go on to the +interview with the star. +</p> + +<p> +Funny, Stoner telling Corinne that he liked detective mysteries! Just +the opposite of what he’d told Margot. +</p> + +<p> +Coming around the corner of a chrome yellow plaster wall of a Spanish +farmhouse, she almost ran into Stoner. He stared, then bent over her, +with a surly expression. +</p> + +<p> +“You would do it, wouldn’t you! You <i>would</i> be written up, in spite of +what I told you!” +</p> + +<p> +Margot smiled, an enigmatic smile that brought an angry flush to +Stoner’s face. Then she said quietly: +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you think that the initiative was taken out of my hands by the +arrival upon the scene of the mysterious girl, Stella Ball?” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s got nothing to do with what I mean, Miss Anstruther. You gave +interviews to the reporters, didn’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Naturally. They got hold of the story from the police, and they +published a lot of bunk that I went to some pains to contradict. +You’ll find a much more sane story in to-day’s papers.” +</p> + +<p> +“Makes it all the worse. If you’d let the whole thing drop as a silly +pipe dream, after that first night, and sent the police packing, +<i>nothing</i> would have got into the papers.” +</p> + +<p> +“O—h!” Margot opened wide her large gray eyes. “You wish I’d taken +possession of my room as if nothing had happened, and been all alone +to receive and entertain Stella Ball on her informal visit to my +quarters?” +</p> + +<p> +“How could <i>she</i> have hurt you, a thin little thing like that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thin little thing, like that,” Margot repeated, staring at him. +</p> + +<p> +For a second something flashed in his eyes, or she imagined it, then +he frowned and said testily: +</p> + +<p> +“Well, that’s the way the papers described her, wasn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh—yes, of course, I forgot!” +</p> + +<p> +Surely her thoughts were taking erratic twists and turns. Why had she +been struck by an undefined familiarity with the appearance of the +girl Stella, in Stoner’s casual comment? A vague impression, going as +quickly as it had come, and leaving her with the sense of being +somehow a trifle foolish. +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t see,” Stoner went on with the argument, “what there’d have been +particularly scary about having a girl sneak thief come into your +room. You don’t strike me as a coward, Margot. Probably the girl would +have been more scared of you than you of her.” +</p> + +<p> +Margot laughed. Stoner was unconsciously amusing. +</p> + +<p> +“You certainly have it all doped out what I should have done, Mr. +Stoner, under any and all circumstances. But what I did is done, and I +can’t see why all this fuss about it now.” +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t, eh!” He grew threatening. His anger was evidently not far +beneath the surface. “Well, you say that to Miss Delamar. She’s wild. +She’s all primed to give you a good calling down.” +</p> + +<p> +Margot studied him with a deliberately judicious stare. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you <i>quite</i> sure, Mr. Stoner, that Miss Delamar is as wild as all +that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Am I quite sure! Say, how do you get that way?” He seemed to become +slangy in proportion as he grew angry or amorously familiar. “Go on in +and see her, and find out for yourself just how wild she is. She’s +likely to tell you you’re fired.” +</p> + +<p> +She felt that he had over-reached himself, and she took quick +advantage. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, really! I thought that no one but you had the power to engage or +discharge members of this cast. But if it’s in Miss Delamar’s province +to do what you hint that she may do, why I’ll save her and myself the +boredom of an interview. I can tender my resignation right here and +now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, come on!” He hadn’t expected her to call his bluff, and she +almost grinned into his blustering countenance. “Don’t take a fellow +up so sharp. Don’t be so literal. What I was going to say is this: No +matter how mad she is or what she says, I can calm her down +afterwards. But you’ll have to meet me half way. I’m not going to let +myself in for a scrap with Corinne Delamar, unless you promise me two +things.” +</p> + +<p> +Sheer curiosity to see to what lengths Stoner could conceivably go, +made Margot say with a faint smile: +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Two</i> things! What are they, Mr. Stoner?” +</p> + +<p> +“First, cut loose from this haunted house bunk. It’s going to do you +and all of us harm if you persist in being connected with it. I’d like +to have you forget the thing ever happened.” His words were spoken +calmly enough, but she noted a slight twitching of his face. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly the man was nervous. Probably he drank and smoked too much. +Most persons did. +</p> + +<p> +“I might possibly be persuaded to buy the security of my job in your +picture at that price, although I’d lose a lot of fun.” Her levity +brought no smile to his lips. Then she said: “And what is the other +condition?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I suppose you’ll think I’ve got my nerve, but I want you to let +me be your friend, and see you often. I’m not asking to make love to +you—though God knows I’m crazy about you, Margot—but at least give +me the chance to help you as I can’t while you’re running around with +Valery.” +</p> + +<p> +This last offer of selfish patronage of her career was more bald than +previous offers or hints had been, but why let it anger her, she +wisely concluded, giving a non-committal smile. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re very kind, Mr. Stoner. I’ll give the matter thought when I +have more time, and not so many absorbing things to think about. Then +I’ll let you know what I decide to do.” +</p> + +<p> +Her delicate irony did not altogether miss its mark. He scowled +heavily, but apparently could think of no effective retort, so he +stood with shoulders thrown back, and head in air, as she walked off +and left him. +</p> + +<p> +A negro maid edged out of the narrow compartment as Margot entered +Corinne’s dressing room. The star was sitting in a wicker chair beside +a table strewn with cosmetics. A disproportionately large mirror hung +above the table, flanked by hooks on which were draped a variety of +startlingly gaudy Spanish bolero-jackets and shawls. There seemed to +be no place for a visitor to sit, so Margot stood, in graceful and +well-bred disregard of having to stand. +</p> + +<p> +Corinne was certainly beautiful, Margot thought, looking down at her. +Margot was always generous in her enthusiasm over another woman’s +beauty or charm. The star might be somewhat over thirty, but her +strange gold-colored eyes, her ivory-palid cheeks and throat, and her +fierce red pouting lips, had all the splendor of early youth. +</p> + +<p> +For an appreciable moment, Corinne did not even turn her head. Then +she twisted slowly around in her chair, and looked up at Margot out of +narrowed eyes. Her voice was modulated to the velvet softness of the +woman whose pose is to appear better bred than she is. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Anstruther,” she began softly, “I understand that this wild +story about you in the papers is the result of a play for publicity. +Doesn’t it strike you as taking an unpardonable liberty, while you +have a part supporting me?” At least she had gone directly to the +point. +</p> + +<p> +“Who has given you to understand such a thing, Miss Delamar? It’s Mr. +Stoner, isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. What of it?” Corinne’s voice was a trifle less suave. +</p> + +<p> +Of a sudden, and most unexpectedly, Margot wanted intensely to +convince Corinne, even to propitiate her, not at all for professional +reasons, but because of some deep and mysterious urge to make a friend +of the young woman, whose antagonism she had so unwittingly aroused. A +swift decision came to her. She would tell the star her so-called +ghost story, from beginning to end, or rather to the point it had +reached. She would offer neither explanations nor excuses, she would +stick to narrative and description of the persons in her little drama. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Delamar,” she began gently, “will you be kind enough to let me +tell you frankly just what has happened? I’m sorry if I’ve done +anything to annoy you, but I’d really like you to know the facts at +first hand.” +</p> + +<p> +Corinne stared at her intently, then she said, pulling out a stool +from under the table: +</p> + +<p> +“Please sit down. I’m sorry I haven’t a comfortable chair. I’ll be +glad to hear what you have to say, Miss Anstruther.” +</p> + +<p> +Margot’s shrewd and watchful eyes did not miss the brightening of +Corinne’s eyes, or the eager play of her lips, as she listened to the +odd and arresting tale. She had held the star’s interest and she had +won her trust, at least, so far as her mysterious adventure was +concerned. +</p> + +<p> +“You certainly put the whole thing in a different light, Miss +Anstruther. I’ll talk to you again later in the week. I want to think +over the matter.” +</p> + +<p> +Margot could not restrain the impulse that made her bend over, with an +eager smile, as she stood up to go, and say: +</p> + +<p> +“Please do your own thinking, unassisted by Mr. Stoner. For some +reason he’s determined to put me in the wrong in this matter and make +me drop the investigation. I don’t know what it’s all about, but I +can’t see why he’s so keen about it.” +</p> + +<p> +At her first words, Corinne’s eyes flashed angrily, but it became +clear to her that Margot meant no personal offense, and she nodded a +good-by with the first amiable smile that she had ever conferred upon +Margot. +</p> + +<p> +On the trip back to town, Margot felt suddenly tired and depressed. +Such a fuss and bother and so much confusion to face in the immediate +future. She hated rows. She hated having people dislike her or suspect +her of mean motives. A sudden overwhelming yearning rushed over her, +for the mother who had died when she was sixteen. She had loved her +mother, and she had needed her always, but the years in their swift +passing, had made her more self-reliant and less given to lonely +meditation. +</p> + +<p> +With a return to her normal cheerfulness, Margot put her key in the +lock of the front door, and ran up to her room. Gene, the dear boy, +was coming to take her to dinner. Her glance fell on a yellow telegram +on the table. She ran to it, tore it open and read: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +<i>Terribly sorry. Can’t come for dinner. Stoner requires that I work in +the studio to-night. Been transferred to another unit. See you +to-morrow night without fail.</i> +</p> + +<p class="rt1"> +<span class="sc">Gene.</span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +Now, what in creation did that mean! It was most unusual to transfer a +camera man to another unit, in the middle of a picture. Of course it +was done occasionally, but rarely. Besides, why did Stoner call upon +Gene at such short notice! He seemed to be under her feet at every +turn. +</p> + +<p> +She had dinner alone, then returned to her room, after a brief but not +to be avoided conversation with Mrs. Bellew, on the subject of +reporters and other kindred matters. Margot had some mending to do, +and it struck her with ironic force, that, in the midst of so much +mental confusion, she should be sitting alone in the so-called +“haunted” house, mending her stockings. +</p> + +<p> +About a half hour later a tap sounded on her door. Wondering if it +could be Gene, after all, or another message from him, she opened her +door. On the threshold stood Stoner, the landlady vaguely and +apologetically in the dim background of the hall. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch09"> +CHAPTER IX.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">HIDDEN MOTIVES</span> +</h3> + +<p> +<span class="sc">Frederick Stoner</span> stood on the doorsill, holding hat and stick, and +striving to smile as if his presence on the threshold of Margot’s room +was the most natural of all natural happenings. +</p> + +<p> +In Margot’s gray eyes, surprise changed swiftly to a cold dismissal. +Her aloofness and her obvious disinclination to make the most +perfunctory gesture of welcome, brought the landlady forward from +where she stood in the shadows of the hall. She put a nervous, +apologetic hand on Margot’s arm. +</p> + +<p> +“The gentleman said that he was a friend of yours, and your boss, out +where you do your play acting. And he said he must see you most +particular to-night. And I saw him when he come to your party, so I +thought it was all right and I brought him up stairs, my dear.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s all right, Mrs. Bellew. Wait a minute, please,” she added +hastily seeing the landlady’s gentle movement toward the head of the +stairs. Margot turned steely eyes on Stoner. “What is it you wish to +see me about, Mr. Stoner?” +</p> + +<p> +He fumbled his hat and he fumbled his reply. +</p> + +<p> +“Why—er—it’s about—in relation to—this matter of the—the mystery +you’re trying to solve, Margot.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean? Another warning such as you gave me this morning?” +Her gaze did not waver nor grow less coldly repellent. It was one +thing to use diplomacy with Stoner on his own ground, the studio, but +when he had the impudence to force himself upon her privacy, without +permission or even warning, no diplomacy was required. +</p> + +<p> +“Not that at all,” he said hastily. “Nothing of that sort, Miss +Anstruther. I’ve taken the liberty of calling on you to tell you of +something that’s occurred to me that may be helpful to you.” +</p> + +<p> +She frowned, a little puzzled by his manner and his remark. Odd of +Stoner, the aggressive, self-sufficient Stoner, to conduct himself in +so Uriah Heepish a manner. No unbending came to her reception of him. +She stood guard over her threshold with senses alert and watchful. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think I quite understand. Helpful in what way? Just what do +you mean, may I ask?” +</p> + +<p> +He drew himself up and took a firmer grip of his position. Margot read +in the pursing of his thick lips, his realization that his deference +to her wasn’t getting him anywhere. +</p> + +<p> +“After seeing you to-day, Margot, I had a brainstorm, I guess you’d +call it. Or call it a hunch, or anything you like. Anyway, something +came into my head, and I couldn’t wait to tell you all about it. I’ve +got an idea it may go far to clear up your mystery.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Bellew’s shuddering gasp and quick approach to Margot made her +smile. She decided to ask Stoner to come into the room, but the +landlady must come also. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, if you’ve something interesting to tell me, Mr. Stoner, +I’m willing to listen to it. Won’t you come in? You also Mrs. Bellew.” +She stood aside to let them enter, but Stoner drew back. +</p> + +<p> +“Sorry,” he said quickly, “but what I have to say is strictly +confidential.” +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps it was the terseness of his refusal to talk before Mrs. Bellew +that decided Margot to interview him unchaperoned. If he had +expostulated with excuses or supplications, she would have let him go. +He seemed in earnest, and determined, and her quickly aroused +curiosity where he was concerned, decided her to dismiss Mrs. Bellew. +She turned to the eager dame with a kindly smile. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry, Mrs. Bellew, but if Mr. Stoner feels that he can’t discuss +the matter except with me, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to let me +withdraw my invitation.” +</p> + +<p> +With the door closed on the landlady’s retreating figure, Margot +wished for a second that she had refused to receive Stoner alone. +However, what did it matter! What could he do to her anyway! She +indicated a place for the bestowal of his hat and coat, then sat down, +pointing to a chair a few feet from her. The preliminary rites of +asking permission to smoke, and lighting his and her cigarette, left +them at last with the blue haze of smoke and an awkward silence +between them. Then Margot asked him what it was he had thought might +be of significance in the clearing up of her mystery. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Margot, by the time I’ve told you what I’ve doped out, I hope +I’ll be able to share honors with you and Mr. Sherlock Holmes. I +didn’t know I had it in me, but from what I’ve heard of the details of +your story, I believe I’ve hit on something that you haven’t even +thought of.” +</p> + +<p> +“What <i>is</i> it?” She was growing impatient. +</p> + +<p> +“Just a minute now. I don’t want to make a fool of myself. I’ve got a +theory and I believe it’s workable, but I’m not going to spill it +without having some chance to verify it for my own benefit. Of course +I’ve read the stuff in the papers, but I want to see the room for +myself, and make certain observations before telling you what I +think.” +</p> + +<p> +Margot’s reasoning powers and sense of justice told her that either +she must dismiss Stoner and his theories forthwith, or, if curious to +learn what his theory was, and willing to believe in his sincerity in +the matter, then she must let him do what he suggested doing, for +obviously one couldn’t be sure of a theory holding water if it was +built on hearsay and second-hand descriptions. It would do no harm to +show him the room, in any case. The policeman on guard wouldn’t care +whom she brought. So she told Stoner that she would show him the room, +but that he would have to make his inspection in the presence of the +policeman. +</p> + +<p> +They went to the floor below, knocked and were admitted by one of the +men who alternated with Quinlan and Boyle. The room was dimly lighted. +Evidently it had been decided not to keep guard in the darkness, at +least during what the Irishman called the “shank of the evening.” +</p> + +<p> +Margot watched Stoner throw a swift, appraising look over the room. He +turned to her saying: +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve left all your own things down here, haven’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Everything but my personal effects. It seemed best that way.” +</p> + +<p> +Stoner addressed the cop with genial familiarity. +</p> + +<p> +“Mind if I give this place the once over? Here, have one?” He gave the +cop a fat cigar. “I’ll have a squint behind the bed first off the bat, +I guess.” +</p> + +<p> +Margot couldn’t repress a smile of vast amusement, seeing the heavy +bulk that was Stoner, get down on all fours and look under the bed. He +got to his feet and pulled out the brass bed. Then again he got down +on the floor, looked at the walls and along the baseboard. He had the +air of doing all this as a matter of form, because all the rest had +done the same thing. He turned to Margot with a wave of his arm at the +bed, then said, as he pushed the bed back in place: +</p> + +<p> +“Just eliminating. Have to look at every detail of course, the way the +rest of the Sherlocks have been doing. Now for something more to the +point.” +</p> + +<p> +He walked to the door leading to the roof-garden, then walked back to +the bed, slowly pacing off the distance. Then he returned to the door, +opened it and went out on the roof. Margot could see him gazing at the +houses across the way, whose rear windows could be seen with curtains +drawn back and bright lights shining. He re-entered the room and went +to the window, looked out, then squatted down as he was accustomed to +do when looking from certain angles at scenes he was about to have +shot. He peered through his hands at the bed and at the floor beside +the bed, and again he looked out of the window. +</p> + +<p> +By that time the policeman was gaping in sheer astonishment at the +antics of this strange man. Margot, not in the least impressed but +wondering what Stoner was getting at, waited in silence. Then he +walked to the bed and stood looking down at the rug. +</p> + +<p> +“Show me exactly where you saw that light—where you saw the hand tap +the light out.” +</p> + +<p> +Margot showed him. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you sleep with your shade up?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, usually, so it won’t flap with the window open.” +</p> + +<p> +“When you leaned over the side of the bed to look for the match you +dropped, did you reach your arm over the side a ways before you saw +the hand?” +</p> + +<p> +Wondering what he had in his mind, but convinced now that he had +something more than an idle curiosity, or a ruse to visit her against +her will, Margot told him that so far as she remembered, she did +stretch out her arm over the side of the bed before she saw the hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Humph! I thought as much.” He grinned with satisfaction, and gave the +policeman another cigar. “Now, Margot, I’ve got every reason for +feeling sure of my little theory. Come over here a minute.” He walked +to the window, opened it, and pointed across the way. +</p> + +<p> +“See that house over there, directly in line with this window?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Margot, vaguely, standing behind him. +</p> + +<p> +He turned, looking back at the bed. +</p> + +<p> +“See that place on the rug where you saw the light? Right in a line +with this window, isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +Margot nodded, seeing that his comment was correct. A dim suspicion of +what he had in mind, had come to her, and with it a slight quickening +of interest in what more he had to say. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, go on. What’s the answer?” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear young lady, not here. In your present abode, if you don’t +mind.” +</p> + +<p> +Simple and natural of course. No reason why he should air his theory, +good or bad, before the policeman. Again Margot’s reason made it +impossible for her to refuse his request. As the door closed on them, +and he sat once more in her easy chair, he smiled, a long, slow smile +of utter contentment. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t keep me in suspense,” she said with a little laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“Now listen carefully. Anyone standing at the window of that floor in +that house I pointed out to you, could flash a light straight into +your room. With the clever use of a burning-glass, a spot from a +calcium light backed by a reflector could be made to move about and do +queer stunts on that rug where the policeman saw the light. You were +half asleep you said, and it all happened in a jiffy. I’ve seen queer +things done with a mirror.” +</p> + +<p> +She listened, amazed at the ingenuity of his theory. +</p> + +<p> +“But the arm and hand. Calcium light and a burning-glass can do a good +deal, but they can’t manufacture hands and arms.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, my dear girl, I’m surprised at you. You’re too smart to ask such +a question! You put your arm over the side of the bed, to reach for +the match. Well, it’s so simple it’s funny! The light and the mirror +threw the reflection of your own arm and hand on the rug.” +</p> + +<p> +“But,” Margot gasped, half convinced. “I <i>saw</i> a hand <i>tap</i> the +match.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sure you did. You saw your own hand tap that match. Don’t you +understand? You saw an apparently ghostly arm and hand on the floor. +You were scared stiff, and you didn’t know after that <i>what</i> you did +or didn’t do. Automatically you did the very thing you’d started out +to do—put out the match. Of course you thought you saw another hand +do it. Isn’t it clear?” +</p> + +<p> +Margot almost thought it was, but she wasn’t quite sure. +</p> + +<p> +“How about the hand and arm seen by Boyle?” +</p> + +<p> +“Good Lord! That doesn’t need much explaining, seems to me. Case of +superstitious fear. You’d told how <i>you</i> saw the hand, so when the +calcium light flashed again—pleasant little practical joke, by the +way—it stands to reason, doesn’t it, that Boyle imagined the same +thing you saw, even to tapping out the light.” +</p> + +<p> +The logic of the argument was evident, and the theory as to the +calcium light and the mirror fairly reasonable. Margot felt sure of +that. But deep down in her consciousness was a strange conviction, and +it grew as she listened to Stoner and watched his face. It was the +conviction that his theory was actually false, that Stoner knew it was +false, and that for some reason too obscure to imagine, he was intent +upon convincing her of its validity. The queer sensation of distrust +of the man was stronger than ever before. +</p> + +<p> +She knew what she must do. She must not let him guess her distrust of +him—foundless as it actually was—nor let him realize that every +instinct she possessed was ranged against the sincerity or +plausibility of his amazing theory. So she smiled sweetly and said: +</p> + +<p> +“You’re tremendously clever, Mr. Stoner. I’d never have thought of +such a thing in a thousand years. I shall certainly follow up your +theory. It will be easy to find out who lives in that house and in +that apartment, and look into the matter of the calcium light.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good Lord, you wouldn’t be so foolish. You don’t suppose anyone given +to practical jokes like that is going to admit it. You’d never find +out or prove a thing. My only idea in telling you about it is to help +you eliminate other theories that may lead you into all sorts of +trouble and waste of time.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see,” she said softly, watching his face through the smoke from her +parted lips, her eyes half closed. “And of course, even if we did +succeed in proving that the lights were a practical joke, and even if +I were convinced that I saw my own hand put out the match, in a moment +of hysteria, that wouldn’t any of it explain the entrance into my room +by way of the roof, of Miss Stella Ball, would it, Mr. Stoner?” +</p> + +<p> +His thick lips pouted. His eyes glowered at her. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t think much of my theory, after all, do you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she said quickly. “I think it’s a marvelous theory, and I think +it ought to be given due consideration. But I think that there are +other things to consider also.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, for instance?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” she said slowly, “I’ve still got a little theory of my own +about Stella Ball being in some way connected with what I saw.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ridiculous!” His exclamation was almost savage in its disgust. “What +in the name of God <i>could</i> she have to do with it—a common midnight +marauder—a little sneak thief!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, that’s all got to be proved, Mr. Stoner.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean to say,” he stared at her, “that you persist in going on +with this silly investigation?” +</p> + +<p> +Quickly she decided to lie to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, perhaps you’re right. Perhaps it would be a waste of time, and +do me harm. Perhaps I’d better take your advice, Mr. Stoner.” +</p> + +<p> +She hadn’t imagined what her sudden meekness would bring forth. He +sprang to his feet, went toward her with outstretched arms and bent +over her murmuring: +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a darling. You do care a little for me, don’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +Margot got to her feet without confusion or haste. She stepped out of +his reach and said quietly: +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Stoner, you must really understand that I don’t permit any man to +come to my room alone to make love to me. I let you in because you had +something important to tell me. Now please leave this love business +out of it altogether.” +</p> + +<p> +For a moment he stood still looking at her. Then he said: +</p> + +<p> +“Look here, Margot! Is this stuff about being alone in your room, the +truth, or are you stalling because you won’t let me make love to you +here or anywhere else?” +</p> + +<p> +She hesitated. “Let’s talk about that some other time,” she said +gently. +</p> + +<p> +“No! You’ll tell me here and now. Valery comes to your room, doesn’t +he! I’m crazy about you, girl. I can’t stand it, I tell you.” +</p> + +<p> +There was no mistaking the look in his eyes. No matter what he had +come for, nor what his motives might be for elaborating the theory +about the lights, she had now to deal with a man whose passions were +something to be reckoned with. She moved a step farther away from him. +It was an unwise move. Suddenly, and without warning, he sprang across +the space between them, seized her, and crushed her in his big arms. +She struggled, but he was stronger than she, and he pinned her arms to +her sides, and kissed her with furious, pent-up desire; kissed her +mouth, her throat, her shoulder, all the time drawing her over to the +couch against the wall. +</p> + +<p> +Margot would not scream. It would be a senseless thing to do. With all +her rage and strength she fought him. She tore one hand free and with +all her force struck him across the mouth. The pain of the blow was +nothing, but the fact that she would strike him seemed to change the +current of his passion. He let her go and stood looking at her, wiping +the blood from his cut lips with his handkerchief. +</p> + +<p> +“Some men,” he said slowly, “like to be hit and even bitten by a woman +when she’s angry. I don’t, not when it’s clear that the woman hasn’t +any use for me. I’m through trying to make love to you, Miss Margot +Anstruther. And I’m through with a few other things too.” +</p> + +<p> +“You had no right to force your kisses on me,” she said quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“Let that pass. I’ll give you one more chance. Will you or will you +not, try to like me and promise to marry me later on?” +</p> + +<p> +“Good Heavens, no!” she said, with so much sincerity that it was like +a dash of cold water in his face. He stared angrily, then he said: +</p> + +<p> +“Just one thing more. Will you or will you not, drop this damn +foolishness about this mystery stuff?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will not drop it,” she said with quiet defiance. +</p> + +<p> +He walked to where he had thrown his hat and coat, and picked them up. +Then he stood glowering at her across the room. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s all, then. Consider yourself fired from the Superfilm Company. +And Valery will find a notice for himself to-morrow morning. I’m damn +sorry I gave you the job that day, instead of Lulu.” +</p> + +<p> +“You had your good reasons for that, Mr. Stoner.” Before he could +speak, she added quickly: “Why punish Gene for what I’ve done?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I can get at you through him. Also because I’m sick of the +very sight of him. But any time you change your mind about marrying +me, just let me know. You’ll get your job back if you do.” +</p> + +<p> +With that he stalked out of the room. +</p> + +<p> +For a long time after Margot put out her light, she lay in the +darkness thinking. Strange and ingenious that theory of Stoner’s, but +far stranger still the motive under the theory. She knew now, she felt +it deeply, that he had some motive, other than his desire to force her +to drop the case. At least—her thoughts grew a little confused as she +grew less wakeful—it wasn’t like that exactly. His motive for +advancing the theory was obviously to make her drop <i>her</i> theories, +and the motive back of that was what she couldn’t fathom. Well—if for +a moment she had been intrigued by Stoner’s theory, even to the point +of taking it seriously, she had swung back to a rational contemplation +of him and his theories. As to her own, they were something to take up +with Gene the next day. Poor Gene! It was a shame. But he’d get a job +with some other company, and so would she. But not till she’d solved +the mystery of the arm that tapped the lighted match—the arm that +most positively was <i>not</i> her own. +</p> + +<p> +As on the night before, her last waking memory was of those strange, +pale eyes of Stoner’s, looking at her through a mist of hidden thought +and motive and desire. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch10"> +CHAPTER X.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">A WITNESS FROM THE DEAD</span> +</h3> + +<p> +<span class="sc">A long</span> night because of long, long thoughts, then a few hours of +sleep and then waking, to see the sun shining through her window. +Margot wondered, as she examined her face in the two foot mirror, just +how many more sleepless nights she could stand without showing the +effects of it. Well, at least she didn’t have to rush over to the +studio and be irritated by Stoner. It was a shame of course, that she +was the cause of Gene being fired, for Stoner would undoubtedly put as +many spokes in Gene’s wheel as possible. But he already had the +reputation of being a clever camera man, and he’d make another good +connection in spite of Stoner. +</p> + +<p> +As to herself, Margot worried not at all. She was sorry to leave the +charming “Conchita” to the mercy of some substitute who might not +understand her passionate Latin temperament as well as +she—Margot—understood it, but, oh, what did it all matter! The +reflection of herself as a passionate Spanish girl made Margot grin in +delighted mockery of her own conception. Of course—she had no doubt +about it—she was quite capable of feeling intensely when the right +man and the right hour should come along, but Spanish girls didn’t +have to have the scene so carefully laid. Was it that American women +were really cold, or that Spanish women were less fastidious? As to +dear old Gene, was he the right one, and was she waiting only for the +hour to strike? +</p> + +<p> +She had reached that point in her reflections, over her coffee and +rolls, in her room, when she was called to the telephone. +</p> + +<p> +As she heard Gene’s voice over the wire, she wondered if it were a +case of thought transference. That very moment as he was calling her, +she was thinking intently about him. +</p> + +<p> +“Hello, that you, Margot? Say, there’s the devil to pay out here. I’m +calling from Astoria. I’ve been given the sack and not a reason +offered. And the report out here is that you’ve had the same dirty +deal. Is it true?” +</p> + +<p> +She told him it was, and asked him to come to her house as soon as +possible; that she had much to tell him, and something for him to do. +His voice sounded more cheerful when he told her that he’d be right +over as quick as he could make train connections. +</p> + +<p> +When Gene arrived she gave him both hands and reached her face up for +his kiss. He gave it eagerly enough, his eyes glowing with joy at the +sight and touch of her. He tried to take her in his arms, but she held +him back and smiled an entreaty that he be patient with her. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ve such a lot to talk about, dear, and so much to do. I promise, +Gene, that just as soon as we clear up the mystery of that old room of +mine, I’ll take your love-making seriously, or else—” She hesitated, +striving to be fair and honest with him. +</p> + +<p> +“Or else you’ll cut out the love-making altogether, is that it, +Margot?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, old dear, that’s what I meant, but don’t get humped about it. +Plenty of other bridges to cross first. Who knows, I may discover that +I’m desperately in love with you, when I get all the débris out of my +mind collected there in the last few days.” +</p> + +<p> +Her mood was lightening. Gene always cheered her up. Good sign, she +thought, but she refrained from calling his attention to it. Then she +told him of Stoner’s unexpected call the previous evening. Before she +could expatiate on his avowed reason for coming, Gene exploded. +</p> + +<p> +“So <i>that</i> was his game, keeping me at work in the studio, and +changing me to another unit! I thought it was queer, but I was too +dense to connect it with you, Margot.” +</p> + +<p> +“No denser than I was. It never occurred to me till after he’d gone. +As a matter of fact, he kept my brain too busy with his remarkable +theories, until just before he left, and <i>then</i> he kept <i>me</i> too +busy.” +</p> + +<p> +Gene stared at her, uncomprehending. She laughed at his expression, +then she frowned, remembering with an access of disgust, Stoner’s +physical attempt to force her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“See here, Gene, if he hadn’t fired you I’d not dream of telling you +just what happened last night. But as you’re no longer under his heel +it doesn’t matter <i>what</i> you know. I’ll tell you about my personal +encounter with him first. That’ll clear the deck for the rest of it, +which is really the only interesting thing about last evening.” +</p> + +<p> +She described Stoner’s attack upon her, his love-making, and his cold +fury when she struck him across the mouth. Gene listened with burning +eyes and twitching lips, striding up and down the room as Margot +talked. +</p> + +<p> +“So that’s that, and a jolly good riddance so far as I’m concerned. I +was getting awfully fed-up with his overbearing ways. Until recently +I didn’t dislike Stoner. Of course I could never have been fond of +him, but I liked him—rather—until he antagonized me by his attitude +regarding what occurred, and publicity, and all that. He’s interesting +in a queer, mysterious way. He’s got me guessing as to his real +motives for working up his elaborate theory and coming here with it. +There’s <i>something</i> I can’t reach with my mind, although my +imagination plays with it continually.” +</p> + +<p> +She described to Gene the visit to the “haunted” room, and Stoner’s +antics, which filled the policeman with wondering awe, and made Margot +want to laugh, up to the moment when he explained his theory. +</p> + +<p> +“And the funny thing about it is that on the surface it sounds +reasonable, and it makes you wonder why you hadn’t thought of it +yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose,” said Gene thoughtfully, “that such a light <i>could</i> be +sent into a dark room, through an uncurtained window. But it seems to +me that unless you’d lost your wits completely, you’d have known the +difference between a small circular dancing light, and the tiny upward +flare of a lighted match.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I would,” she agreed eagerly. “And as to my hand and arm, +really, you know, I’d have to have been utterly mad not to have known +the difference between the shadow of an arm and hand, and the real +thing crawling over the rug.” +</p> + +<p> +“As a matter of fact, it’s all bunk, that idea of a calcium light and +a burning glass being manipulated so as to throw the shadow of your +arm on to the floor.” Gene’s literal type of mind was more inclined to +eliminate the impossible than to consider the possible. +</p> + +<p> +“All the same, there are moments when I wonder a little if it’s not +stupid of me to take such a negative attitude. After all, Gene, mighty +strange things happen, and they’re only strange to those who can’t +understand. I don’t know—I’m not dead sure—that a light couldn’t be +thrown just as he described, and work the same odd tricks. If I were +as sure of Stoner himself as I am of my limited knowledge along such +lines, I’d be inclined to accept his theory, at least to prove or +disprove it, with an open mind.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean that you think he had a hidden motive for propounding his +theory?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, and besides, he admitted to having given me his theory, +expecting that it would clear up the mystery and cause me to drop +further investigation, or words to that effect. Now, what puzzles me +is whether he wants me to drop the whole thing because of the +publicity, or whether he’s using that reason as a screen to his real +one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good Lord! You make him out a man of mystery with a subtle brain. +That’s far-fetched, dear girl. He’s the most obvious person I know. He +probably concocted that ingenious theory with the hope of convincing +you and making you drop the whole thing, but I’ll bet a good deal that +he’s incapable of anything more intricate or sinister than that.” +</p> + +<p> +“May—be!” Margot puckered her forehead, and her eyes had a far-seeing +expression in their gray depths. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, let’s drop that man for five minutes, him and his theories.” +Gene sat down with an impatient sigh, and lighted a cigarette with +nervous fingers. “I think it’s about time you gave me the benefit of +your own theories, Margot. I’d be grateful to you if you’d give me +something to think about besides Stoner and his damn nerve coming here +and trying to make love to you. Nice picture before me of his kissing +you against your will!” +</p> + +<p> +Margot’s sudden laugh brought an angry light to Gene’s somber eyes. +She leaned toward him and put her hand over his with a little pressure +of her fingers, and a smile that strove to express contrition, and +failed. +</p> + +<p> +“Silly old thing! Where’s your logic, even if you’ve mislaid your +sense of humor. If he’d kissed me <i>not</i> against my will, then you +<i>would</i> have something to groan over. And it’s darn lucky for you, +little one, that you make it <i>very</i> clear that you believe it <i>was</i> +against my will, for if you didn’t, you know what would happen, don’t +you, Gene?” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe you,” he said sullenly, “but if Stoner and I had to meet +very often, with you between, something would break sooner or later.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, don’t worry. I’m through with Stoner, and so are you. Now, as +to my theories. I’ve got something first I want you to do for me. If +you can spare the time I want you to go personally to police +headquarters, and make arrangements for Hart and his crowd to meet +here at five o’clock. Hart hasn’t been here himself for some time. He +scorns the case. But you argue that brilliant sleuth into coming. +Flatter, cajole him. Tell him I want to call his attention to +important new evidence. Make positively sure that he’ll be here +himself!” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve actually got something up your sleeve?” +</p> + +<p> +“If my powers of deduction haven’t failed me—yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right. I’ll have Hart here if I have to blackjack him and hire a +wheelbarrow. And right now, I’m off to look for another job.” He rose +and went toward her, holding out his hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Gene, listen.” She was on her feet beside him. “Have you enough +to rub along on for a short time?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sure I have, but I don’t want to give Stoner the satisfaction of +thinking I can’t land another job as good as or better than the one he +dished me out of, hot off the reel.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, bother Stoner or what he thinks. In the first place, Gene, I may +need every bit of your time in the next few days, and secondly I’ve +got a sort of feeling that you’d better hold off about another job. +It’s just one of my queer hunches, but if you don’t mind very much, +and if you can rub along for a while, I do wish you would—dear.” +</p> + +<p> +When she said “dear” with precisely that intonation, he would have +agreed to commit murder, and he told her so. +</p> + +<p> +Margot spent the intervening hours writing letters and getting mental +relaxation in a moving picture house. Nothing, she had found, was +quite to be compared with the average movie for complete lulling of +all the senses, not to mention the brain. +</p> + +<p> +At a quarter to five Gene came to her room and told her with boyish +glee that he had corralled Hart and the others, and brought them to +the house in a taxi. They had even stopped at the station house of the +district to pick up Quinlan and Boyle. They were all downstairs in her +old room, waiting for her. +</p> + +<p> +Eager and impulsive, Margot flew to Gene, threw her arms around his +neck and gave him a little hug and a quick kiss on his mouth. No use +to hold her, and prolong the kiss. Like a firefly she was off and +away, running down the stairs while Gene caught his breath and darted +after her. +</p> + +<p> +Hart stood by the mantelpiece, a sarcastic grin and a stiff bow, his +greeting to Margot. +</p> + +<p> +“Understand you’ve got something for us that we weren’t bright enough +to find for ourselves, Miss Anstruther.” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe I have, Mr. Hart.” Her smile was as sweet as her low voice. +“But I’m wondering if you’ll take orders or even suggestions from a +mere woman.” Her sarcasm was on a par with his, so could not fail to +reach him. +</p> + +<p> +“You mean you’re going to ask us to do certain things?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well—yes,” she said meditatively, “I rather think I am, if you don’t +mind.” +</p> + +<p> +“Anything in reason.” +</p> + +<p> +“There are places I want you to examine.” +</p> + +<p> +“Places we haven’t already searched?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. You’ll have to get a crowbar.” +</p> + +<p> +“We shouldn’t wreck this woman’s house, Miss Anstruther.” +</p> + +<p> +“It won’t be necessary,” she said quietly. +</p> + +<p> +Hart’s scorn became more obvious, but he sent one of his men to borrow +the implement at a nearby hardware shop. Then Margot, who had remained +silent while the man was out getting the crowbar, pointed to the brass +bed. +</p> + +<p> +“Please move that aside and turn back the rug. I don’t think you’ll be +disappointed, Mr. Hart.” +</p> + +<p> +“Trapdoor, eh,” Hart muttered. “That your idea?” +</p> + +<p> +“Go ahead and look,” she said quickly. +</p> + +<p> +Hart made no move toward the bed. He stood looking at Margot with +shrewd, quizzical eyes. Then he said: +</p> + +<p> +“You had a man up here last night, I understand, taking measurements +and giving the place an inspection.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” Margot’s monosyllable was spoken with a friendly inflection. +</p> + +<p> +“Private detective?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, dear no!” She could not suppress a smile at thought of Stoner in +the rôle of private detective. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the joke?” Hart neither looked nor spoke as if he considered +it one. +</p> + +<p> +“No joke at all, Mr. Hart.” She became suddenly very grave. “Merely a +casual visitor who had heard what happened to me and wanted to look +over the ground himself. Just curiosity.” +</p> + +<p> +“My man who was here last night, said that your friend did certain +things and made comments that sounded as if he had some theory about +your ghost. Was it your friend who suggested the trapdoor?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. He did have a theory, but it followed very different lines.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, give us his theory. I’d like to hear it,” Hart spoke a little +brusquely. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s an entirely personal matter, Mr. Hart, and in my opinion doesn’t +bear on this case at all. At any rate, I’m conceited enough to prefer +my own theory. If nothing comes of it, then we can look into the one +advanced by my caller last night.” +</p> + +<p> +Hart gave her a long, speculative look, then, without another word, he +told two of his men to push back the brass bed. +</p> + +<p> +The men pulled out the rug which covered the drab old carpet that +extended to the wall on both sides. Then they ripped at the carpet +where it was tacked down around the edges. In a few minutes they had +bared the planking. A thick layer of dust covered the floor, yet even +through the dust, dark stains were visible. Clearly defined as well, +was a square outline some two feet each way, near the wall where the +head of the bed had been. +</p> + +<p> +Hart turned abruptly to Margot. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you known about this all along?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I haven’t. I merely reached the conclusion that some such thing +must be there.” Her steady look at him seemed to say that such a +conclusion was too simple and obvious to have evaded any mind trained +to such analysis. +</p> + +<p> +Hart went down on his knees and began to prod with his fingertips. +</p> + +<p> +“Seems to be stuffed with some kind of wadding. Looks as if it hadn’t +been touched for months.” Hart spoke without looking up. He was intent +on the discovery they had made. +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose you open it,” Margot suggested quietly. +</p> + +<p> +An atmosphere of mystery amounting to horror pervaded the room. Gene +stared from Hart on his knees, to Margot standing erect and watchful. +Quinlan and Boyle frowned fiercely and strove to preserve a stoicism +which made Margot want to laugh, even though she trembled with +excitement. Eager to a point where it was difficult to restrain her +mad desire to find what lay under all that dust and wadding or +whatever it was, nevertheless she felt a cold, shuddering dread of +what they might discover. +</p> + +<p> +Hart rose to his feet and asked for the crowbar. With the help of one +of his men he drove it down into a crack. They heaved and wrenched, +then with so little final effort that it seemed as if mystery and +horror laughed and mocked their struggles with the crowbar, a trapdoor +lifted and fell over on the floor; an indubitable trapdoor it was. +</p> + +<p> +For once, Hart lost his superior air of composure. He spoke quickly, +with excited gasps. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a big compartment here. Looks as if it’s hollowed from the +central stone support of the house.” +</p> + +<p> +Margot was on her knees beside him, and Gene was standing over her. +</p> + +<p> +“Look and see what’s in it,” she commanded. +</p> + +<p> +Hart reached into the hole and drew out a fire ax, such as hangs +beside a bucket of water in the hallways of public buildings. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s that,” he muttered, holding the ax up for inspection. +</p> + +<p> +He reached again into the hole, probed eagerly, then gave a sudden cry +of surprise and loathing. He drew his hand out with a desperate jerk +and dropped a horrifying object on the floor. Margot suppressed a +scream, and Boyle didn’t. His cry was almost a wail as if he had seen +the Banshee in his own country. Gene bent swiftly and drew Margot to +her feet, holding her against him. No one looked at anyone else. There +was something else to look at. +</p> + +<p> +On the floor, where Hart had dropped it, was the severed and withered +arm of a woman. A desiccated, mummy-like arm. The hand was tightly +clenched. On the upper side it was marred from wrist to knuckles by a +huge burn resembling a chocolate-colored birthmark. +</p> + +<p> +No one spoke, no one stirred, no one removed his gaze from the object +on the floor—a gaze of horror and utter confusion of thought and +emotion. Margot shuddered and pressed closer to Gene. Then she +whispered to him. The power of reasoning had returned with a flash of +insight. The silence of the room was broken by a low, agonized moan. +</p> + +<p> +“God have mercy on us all!” It was Shane Boyle, down on his knees in +an attitude of prayerful supplication. “Sure, it’s the <span class="sc">ghost</span> of this +arm we’ve been seein’.” +</p> + +<p> +“The arm it is, I say, of Stella Ball.” Strange that it should have +been the material-minded, slow-witted Quinlan who spoke. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch11"> +CHAPTER XI.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">WHOSE HAND?</span> +</h3> + +<p> +<span class="sc">For</span> a few seconds no one spoke, either to contradict or agree with +Quinlan. And no one stirred or removed his gaze of stunned surprise +and fascinated loathing from the severed arm, with its hand clenched +and disfigured by so unsightly a scar. +</p> + +<p> +Hart turned a sudden look upon Margot, a look of penetrating +suspicion, that made Gene frown angrily, taking a step forward and +holding firmly to Margot’s arm. Hart’s expression was easy to +interpret, but it was such an unexpected turning of the tables that, +for a second, she could not cope with it. +</p> + +<p> +“May I inquire, Miss Anstruther, if this is a pleasant little +practical joke you’ve staged for our benefit, with the obvious +intention of keeping yourself in the limelight, or if it’s just the +last act in a comedy you began a few nights ago, from the same +motive?” +</p> + +<p> +Margot’s face flamed with an intensity of anger she had not supposed +herself capable of. Gene gave a low exclamation of indignant disgust, +and made a threatening movement nearer to Hart. She drew him back and +whispered to him to let her handle Hart. Her breath came short and +fast, as she struggled for self-control. It was too outrageous of the +detective, but why should she care what he thought or said? The facts, +so far as they had gone, would prove themselves, and she felt +thrillingly competent to handle the situation from this point to +whatever climax might be lurking in mystery. The hot flow of blood +receded from her face, leaving her calm and very cool, physically and +mentally. She returned Hart’s exasperating stare with an expression as +mild as it was compelling. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Hart,” she began quietly, “it will probably be impossible, and +certainly it’s quite unnecessary, for me to convince you of anything +which you’ve made up your mind not to believe. To be quite frank, I +honestly do not think that your opinion of me or of my motives will +make any more difference in the conduct of this case, or its ultimate +disposal, than your opinion makes a difference to me personally.” +</p> + +<p> +Gene squeezed her arm in excited admiration for her spirit and her +clever retort. The other men looked down at the floor, or at the +ceiling or out of the window; anywhere but at Hart. He grew a little +paler, and his mouth twisted with an ugly sneer. Then he seemed to +think better of it, or sudden change came to his mood. His level look +into her eyes was less antagonistic, and his manner conveyed more +respect for the girl who stood so quietly regarding him. +</p> + +<p> +“You still claim that every word you told Quinlan and Boyle that first +night, and all you said subsequently to me, was absolutely true?” +</p> + +<p> +“If my word is of any consequence to you, Mr. Hart, yes, I do still +claim just that.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you knew absolutely nothing about this trapdoor or what I found +down in that hole?” +</p> + +<p> +“Absolutely nothing, Mr. Hart.” Her quiet statement was more +convincing than an oath. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,—I’ll be damned!” Hart sounded quite sincere, and more +mystified than Margot had ever hoped to have him admit, even tacitly. +</p> + +<p> +“Gene, please go downstairs and ask Mrs. Bellew to come up here right +away. And prepare her mind about—that—” she glanced toward what lay +on the floor; “so she won’t get hysterical up here.” +</p> + +<p> +Gene knew from the sudden darkening and widening of her eyes, that her +keen brain had swiftly adjusted itself to the facts, had seized upon +whatever was concrete, and was intent upon pursuing her deductions +without loss of time. As he went quickly to the door, she turned again +to Hart. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you any explanation, Mr. Hart?” +</p> + +<p> +Hart shrugged his thin shoulders, and stared down at the gruesome +object. +</p> + +<p> +“Not yet,” he said laconically. Then he added a little sulkily. +“You’ve sprung a bit of mysterious dirty work on me, and you can’t +expect me to hand out an explanation till I’ve followed up the clues.” +</p> + +<p> +“Surely you regard this discovery as part of the investigation, don’t +you? It isn’t a <i>new</i> case.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s the first proof I’ve had that there’s anything you could call a +case,” he said doggedly. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, at least you’ll agree with me that sane persons in a strictly +material world, couldn’t possibly conduct this case on the basis of +its having any element of the supernatural.” +</p> + +<p> +Little did Hart suspect that Margot was actually, at that moment, +fighting the temptation to let precisely that element creep into her +emotions if not into her reflections. To speak so scornfully to Hart +of things supernatural, was the best way, she felt, to harden her own +mental attitude. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve never said or thought that any such foolishness should be taken +seriously for a minute.” Hart was certainly sanely balanced. +</p> + +<p> +A low murmur from Shane Boyle focussed attention on him. He was +crossing himself, his expression between ecstasy and despair. Margot +exchanged a smile with Hart, then she said: +</p> + +<p> +“You agree with Quinlan, don’t you, Mr. Hart, that that horrible arm +down there belonged to the girl Stella Ball?” +</p> + +<p> +“Good God! What next. I’d like to know!” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems clear enough to me,” she pursued slowly. “In fact, that dead +and mutilated thing is as eloquent as if it were a live thing talking +to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“So far as I’m concerned, it doesn’t mean a thing, except that a woman +had her arm cut off.” +</p> + +<p> +“How long ago, could you form any idea?” +</p> + +<p> +Hart stooped and scrutinized the grim relic. He studied the interior +of the recess in the flooring, as well as he could without putting his +head down into it. He stood up finally and spoke with respect for +Margot’s mystery, for the first time since he had come on the case. +</p> + +<p> +“That arm hasn’t decayed. As far as I know anything about it, I’d say +it’s because it’s been in that hole close to the main chimney of the +house, which has preserved a very high temperature and kept the hole +dry.” +</p> + +<p> +Margot followed his deductions with eyes and lips expressing intensity +of interest and the first respect for Hart’s intelligence which he had +so far inspired in her. +</p> + +<p> +“Sounds absolutely logical,” she said excitedly. “How long has the arm +been in the hole, would you say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, judging by the condition of the flesh, I’d say about three +months.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good!” She was trembling now from head to foot. “My training in +medical college leads me to agree with you.” She turned at the sound +of the door opening, and swept a quick glance over Mrs. Bellew, whose +eyes were red, her face quivering with nervous fear. Then Margot, +looking from Mrs. Bellew to Hart, and back again to the landlady, said +quietly: +</p> + +<p> +“Stella Ball disappeared from this room exactly three months ago, +didn’t she, Mrs. Bellew?” +</p> + +<p> +“Three months—yes, yes, three months,” the poor woman mumbled, almost +beyond speech as her horrified gaze fixed itself on the desiccated +arm. +</p> + +<p> +“Damn queer coincidence.” Hart seemed to find it difficult to accept +Margot’s deductions. +</p> + +<p> +“Please, Mr. Hart,” she said impatiently, “just for the sake of +argument, admit that there’s more than a coincidence in this. Just +follow me closely. Admitting that this arm was once a part of Stella +Ball’s body, there’s something else to explain. Up to the date of the +crime—of course there’s been a crime! Just look at the way that arm +was severed from the body! Well, up to that time, or, to put it +differently, up to the time she disappeared, so far as Mrs. Bellew can +tell us, neither of her hands was marked in this extraordinary way. +Isn’t that true, Mrs. Bellew?” Margot put her hand gently on the +woman’s trembling arm, trying to soothe her. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, dearie,” Mrs. Bellew’s voice, weak from shock, dropped to a +whisper. “Her hand was just like yours and mine, dearie.” +</p> + +<p> +Hart stood contemplating the scarred hand. Then he met Margot’s +inquiring eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you make out of it, Mr. Hart?” she asked courteously. +</p> + +<p> +“Granting, as you said, for the sake of argument, that the arm and +hand down there belong to the girl Stella, then I’d say that she must +have been fooling with some sort of acid. Poisoned the hand.” +</p> + +<p> +Margot gave Mrs. Bellew’s arm an encouraging pat, then she went over +and stood looking down at the ugly scar. Suddenly she bent closer. +Someone started to speak and she threw out her hand with a quick +gesture compelling silence. Gene moved closer to her, then he touched +her shoulder and said softly: +</p> + +<p> +“What is it, Margot?” +</p> + +<p> +She stood up slowly, her fine eyes bright with the effort of +concentrated thought and sudden inspiration. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s not an acid burn. I’m sure of that,” she said slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“How can you be sure without a chemical analysis?” +</p> + +<p> +In Hart’s limited way he was certainly more intelligent than she had +supposed. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re right, of course, Mr. Hart, or rather you would be if it +wasn’t for the fact that in my laboratory work I made a special study +for a time, of the effect on skin and flesh of certain acids. Also, I +was much interested in the study of radium burns.” +</p> + +<p> +She stopped, looking significantly from Hart to the hand on the floor. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t mean—you can’t think that’s a radium burn, Margot!” It was +Gene and not Hart who challenged her obvious deduction; Gene, with +wide, astonished eyes staring at her. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Gene, that’s just what I do mean. That’s a radium burn or I know +nothing at all about radium, and I ought to know a good deal about +it,” she asserted calmly. +</p> + +<p> +Hart seemed nonplussed. He looked helplessly from Margot to the floor, +and finally he said: +</p> + +<p> +“Most people know something about radium, enough anyway to realize +that it does very queer things. But this does seem a little too queer +even for radium.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” Margot questioned him eagerly. “If you admit or accept all the +other much queerer things about this weird case, I can’t see anything +especially remarkable in Stella Ball having burned her hand with +radium. If you hold it in your hand long enough, it does burn, you +know,” she ended with a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Held it in her hand long enough,” he repeated vaguely. “What do you +mean? Held it in her hand before her hand was cut off?” +</p> + +<p> +A sound that suggested that someone in the room was choking, brought +Hart’s head around with a jerk to where his men were standing, at +rigid attention. But every face was composed to expressionless +immovability, except that if he had looked a little closer, he would +have caught the faintest quiver at the corners of Quinlan’s broad +mouth—Quinlan with his Irish humor up his sleeve. Margot struggled +desperately with a laugh, then she said, with a conciliating smile: +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Hart, you’re not Irish, I know, but you’ll have to admit you made +an Irish bull that time. How in the name of glory could the girl have +gotten radium into her hand <i>after</i> it was severed?” +</p> + +<p> +Hart managed a smile. Not so bad for Hart, Margot thought, watching +him. Then he returned to his subject with a new attack. +</p> + +<p> +“Aren’t you running a little wild, Miss Anstruther? Radium! Why, +that’s stuff for scientists! How could people living in a rooming +house get hold of any of it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Such a person might conceivably have stolen it,” she said smoothly. +</p> + +<p> +Of a sudden Hart’s eyes narrowed and his eyebrows met over his eyes. +He stared ahead of him, at nothing apparently, then he met Margot’s +intense scrutiny. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll tell you what you’re thinking, Mr. Hart, for it’s what I’m +thinking myself. You’ve just remembered that a while ago, the Fellowe +Institute lost some radium, a fraction of a gram in weight, but valued +at $75,000. You’re remembering also that every other particle in the +world is accounted for. I happen to know that the police have been +trying for months to find the thief. May I ask if you haven’t had +orders to watch out for him yourself?” +</p> + +<p> +He stared at her, divided between amazement at what she had said, and +wondering, if slowly dawning, admiration for the girl herself. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re right, I have been. I suppose there’s some connection, but I +can’t see it.” That he should be willing to concede the logic of any +deduction of hers struck Margot as amusing. +</p> + +<p> +“This is what I make out of it,” she said, looking from Hart to Gene. +“Of course I know nothing about the theft from the Fellowe Institute, +except what I read in the papers—what I suppose you both read at the +time. But I’ve got this advantage. I’ve been a medical student. +However, it seems to me if you accept my judgment that the burn is +from radium, you ought to feel as if the trail were fairly hot.” +</p> + +<p> +“Granting that you’re right about the burn, then all I’ve got to say, +Miss Anstruther, is that you’re a clever young woman.” +</p> + +<p> +The detective’s low bow gave Margot a pleasant little thrill. At last +she had conquered his cynical distrust of her, of her motives, and her +theories. It was a gesture of mental as well as physical obeisance. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose the next thing on the cards,” he said, moving toward the +door, “is to grill the girl Stella—I mean in connection with the +Institute job.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait a minute!” Margot said eagerly. “Have you a clear idea how a +radium burn is produced, Mr. Hart?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not exactly.” +</p> + +<p> +She told him as simply and briefly as possible that radium eternally +dissipates itself in infinitesimal particles. These pass, she +explained, through anything they encounter; steel or stone are no +obstacles to this stream of atoms. At long range, they are harmless to +human tissues, but if the contact is close, they scorch and kill. +</p> + +<p> +“I get you,” he said, obviously trying to grasp something that eluded +him. +</p> + +<p> +“Not quite,” she said gently. “But you will in a minute, as soon as +you pry open those withered fingers.” She looked down at the thing on +the floor. +</p> + +<p> +Hart stared from her to the hand, and Mrs. Bellew and Boyle gave vent +to low groans, and crossed themselves. In silence—a silence that +vibrated with tense excitement—Hart bent down and tried to open the +tightly clenched hand. It had long been rigid, and Margot saw his +shoulders shake with sudden shrinking disgust. Then he bent back the +fingers just enough to draw from the palm a small object which he held +up to the light. It was a metal container about as large as the +capsule in which druggists sell a dose of quinine. +</p> + +<p> +More dazed than elated, he said doubtfully: +</p> + +<p> +“Looks like what the Institute’s been trying to find.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s exactly what it is,” Margot said excitedly, taking it from him +and examining it. She handed it back to Hart saying: “Better be +careful of it, Mr. Hart!” She smiled at the nervous haste with which +he laid it in an empty ash tray. “Oh, it’s not that bad. You could +hold it for a while without getting burned. What I meant is to be +careful because it’s so precious. And it’s so small it’s easy to +lose.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Now</i>, what, Miss Anstruther? I’m inclined to take your orders in +this case from now on.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should say, now go and get Stella Ball and confront her with this +evidence. This may shock her into telling us her story.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll have her here right after supper,” said Hart. +</p> + +<p> +“Fine! You’ll find me here, too.” +</p> + +<p> +Margot smiled at Gene, took Mrs. Bellew gently by the arm, and +together the three of them left the room of mystery. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch12"> +CHAPTER XII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">STELLA’S STORY</span> +</h3> + +<p> +<span class="sc">A comforting</span> assurance to the nervous and anxious landlady, a +promise to let her be present at the grilling of Stella Ball, later in +the evening, and an impulsive little kiss on the poor woman’s pale +cheek, then Margot led Gene to her room, saying that she had something +to tell him. +</p> + +<p> +“Gene, I’ve got a little plan, and it includes you, old dear. We’ve +got two hours before Hart brings that girl here. Of course we’ll have +to have a bite to eat. I’m not hungry—too excited—but you must be, +and I ought to eat anyway. <i>Then</i>—” She paused with dramatic +suspense. “Then, my dear, we’ll go to see a motion picture!” +</p> + +<p> +If she had suggested a casual trip to the moon, he couldn’t have +looked at her with more astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“A motion picture! I thought you hated them, and of all things +to-night, when you’ve got so much on your mind.” +</p> + +<p> +“That might be reason enough, seeing that they usually put me to +sleep. Just what I need right now, to rest my nerves.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, all right,” he agreed amiably. +</p> + +<p> +“But,” she said with a laugh, “that <i>isn’t</i> the reason I want to go to +a picture to-night. I want to go to a very <i>special</i> picture. One that +was directed by Stoner.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the big idea?” Gene was more mystified than before. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll tell you later. I missed the first showing of this picture, but +I’ve heard that it contains a curious feature. You know how one idea +gives birth to another, when your mind’s all keyed up? Well, in the +last fifteen minutes, while I’ve been concentrating on what we found +down there in that room, my poor, weak brain’s been literally flooded +with some new and very strange thoughts. Very strange indeed,” she +repeated dreamily. +</p> + +<p> +“You mean—thoughts connected with Stoner?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes,” she said softly, “very much connected with Stoner. Of +course they’re only <i>thoughts</i>—they’re too vague yet to be even +speculations, let alone deductions. Just thoughts, but such very +intriguing ones, Gene.” +</p> + +<p> +“I daresay, when you get ready to, you’ll let me have the benefit of +your precious thoughts.” Gene was just a trifle impatient and she +laughed at him. +</p> + +<p> +“Hold your horses, old darling. All in good time, I’ll share my +thoughts with you, and perhaps other more important things as well.” +She threw him a provocative smile, but evaded his arms, as he plunged +at her, trying to seize her. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Perhaps</i>, I said. In the meantime, as I told you before, my brain’s +fairly reeking with mystery. Come on! Let’s go eat!” +</p> + +<p> +“Just a minute, Margot,” he urged. “Tell me about the picture. What +picture is it? I mean, what’s so curious about it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t tell you now. I want you to see it and get your own fresh +impression from it, without being influenced by any reflection of +mine.” +</p> + +<p> +“What the deuce can a picture directed by that boob have to do with +the mystery of Stella Ball, and your room, and the radium! You’re a +funny kid! Well, come. I’m starved, even if I am madly in love, and +almost insane with curiosity.” +</p> + +<p> +An Italian dinner with red wine served in teacups, made Margot more +irrepressibly tantalizing and irresistibly alluring than usual. The +food was negative, but youth and red wine in a teacup leave the spirit +aloof from such gross material considerations. +</p> + +<p> +They spent only a half hour in the little restaurant, then walked +quickly over to Eighth Avenue, where they found seats in a small +theater for <i>The Masque of Life</i>. It was a photoplay of pretentious +melodrama, verging on the grotesque, which had been completed for the +Superfilm Company, some weeks before. It had had a short +run—unhonored and unsung—on Broadway, and was now making the round +of the smaller houses. +</p> + +<p> +Through the tiresome opening reels, Margot sat, sleepily content, her +hand held fast in Gene’s. Then, toward the close of the picture, she +aroused to sudden interest, and gave Gene’s hand a violent squeeze. +She whispered something to him, then she sat very still and intent, +watching the action develop along strange lines. +</p> + +<p> +An inventor was shown at work upon a devilish contraption with which +he planned to destroy New York. Its motive power was to be—<i>radium</i>. +The single word was flashed in huge letters across the screen. This +time it was Gene who tightened his clasp on the fingers he held. The +authority of science was acclaimed as the basis for the weird results +obtained by the villain. Certainly there was an uncanny thrill in his +first experiment with his diabolical machine. +</p> + +<p> +It was shown as functioning at night. A mysterious aura glowed about +it. Rays like forked lightning darted from its entrails. +</p> + +<p> +“Good Lord!” Gene’s excited whisper was close to Margot’s ear. “I see +your point!” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you?” she whispered back. “Then work out a theory, but don’t tell +me till later. I want to get a grip on my own ideas first.” +</p> + +<p> +They sat to the end of the picture, and through a Sennett comedy, +because, as Margot explained, she wanted to sit quietly where she was, +until it was time to return to the house. He told her that he’d +probably explode if she didn’t let him tell her something that he was +as sure of as that he held her hand in his. But she whispered, with a +low laugh, that if exploding would relieve his feelings, she’d hate to +stand in his way. As far as comparing notes was concerned—nothing +doing, she said sternly, until later. +</p> + +<p> +At eight o’clock they returned to Margot’s house of mystery. In the +hallway they found Cornelius Hart and Quinlan. Between them stood +Stella Ball. Her eyes were dull and sullen, her mouth bitter. A +handcuff was fastened to her left wrist, while the other end dangled +uselessly. +</p> + +<p> +“You said you wished to speak to this girl, Miss Anstruther,” said +Hart casually. “She’s at your service.” Margot accepted his veiled +remark as a suggestion that she take charge of Stella. +</p> + +<p> +Evidently Hart had been careful to raise no suspicion in Stella’s mind +that she was to be subjected to a test of any kind. Black-browed and +fierce, her glance swept over the faces of the men, then rested on +Margot’s with defiant scorn. Margot, open-minded at all times, and +generous in her estimates, found it quite natural that this young +thing—potentially a criminal perhaps, but certainly not a coward in +spirit or flesh—should regard a girl of Margot’s class with the +disdain that those who dare much feel for those who are sheltered from +all daring. +</p> + +<p> +Stella had grown thinner and paler in jail. Her stubborn will seemed +unbroken. Her thin lips parted as if the impulse moved her to protest +against she knew not what. Then her mouth shut stubbornly, and she +gave Hart an ugly look. She promised to be a difficult subject, that +much was sure. Margot tingled at the prospect of the encounter. It +would be even more thrilling than she had anticipated. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sure,” she said gently, “that Stella Ball will be able and +willing to help us clear up certain things.” Her tone was +noncommittal, but her penetrating look into the girl’s eyes was +kindly. “I’ll go up ahead,” she said to Hart. “I just want to take a +look around.” +</p> + +<p> +He understood her intent—to make sure that nothing had been +disturbed—and he, together with the girl, Gene and Quinlan, followed +slowly up the stairs. +</p> + +<p> +Margot found Boyle and another man standing solemnly on guard in the +room where so many fateful things had occurred. How many more were +destined to happen there? she wondered vaguely. Mrs. Bellew was +already in the room. Margot smiled, understanding that the inquisitive +and excited creature was determined not to lose a moment of the new +scene soon to be enacted. +</p> + +<p> +Margot took quiet charge of the situation. She cautioned the landlady +not to speak unless addressed, and asked her to sit still in one +corner of the room, not too far away from the center of the +stage—meaning the brass bed and the trapdoor and the gruesome object +on the floor. She told the two policemen to stand on either side of +the trapdoor. Then she called to Hart to bring in Stella Ball. +</p> + +<p> +The girl had been directed to walk a little ahead of the three men, +thus blocking her only way of retreat. It was inevitable that she +would see the bed pushed out from the wall, the hole in the floor, and +the withered arm lying on the bare planking, on reaching the threshold +of the room. Her foot was scarcely on the doorsill when she jerked +back on her heels and stared with distended eyes. +</p> + +<p> +No one spoke. If what she saw could not shake her, words would be +wasted. The moment of hostile silence was calculated to force +confession, but she seemed unconscious of it. All her senses were +concentrated upon the thing on the floor and its significance to her. +Horror and fear were the emotions most clearly expressed on her +hitherto impassive face. Then it hardened, and her lips grew tight. +She paid no attention to anyone but Hart. At him she looked +accusingly. +</p> + +<p> +“Done me dirt, aint you?” she said coolly. “Got the goods on me, then +brought me here to spring it on me, and watch me jump. Well—whacher +goin’ to do about it?” +</p> + +<p> +Margot came quickly nearer to the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“We won’t do anything about it—I mean we won’t do <i>you</i> any harm if +you’ll tell us what you know. Why did you do it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do what?” she asked sharply, staring at Margot. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, of course, you don’t know that we found the radium in that hand +on the floor—<i>your</i> hand, Stella. How did you get hold of it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve been a fence for a long time, that’s how,” she said sulkily. +</p> + +<p> +Margot exchanged a glance of surprised understanding with Gene and +with Hart, then she said gently: +</p> + +<p> +“Tell us how you got mixed up with a crook who stole radium, and how +you lost your arm?” +</p> + +<p> +“I lost it all right,” she said with an expression of such acute +distress that Margot said quickly: +</p> + +<p> +“We’re all awfully sorry for you. But you really must help the law in +every way. If you don’t, I’m afraid it may go hard with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I told ya before, I aint committed a crime. The law can’t do nothin’ +to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“See here, my girl!” Hart spoke impatiently. “Maybe you haven’t done +away with anybody, but being a professional receiver of stolen goods +isn’t one of the things the law smiles at. Better come across and give +us all the dope!” +</p> + +<p> +“We know a good deal about you already,” Margot prompted gently. “We +know that you lived in this room and we know why.” (Margot had jumped +to a certain conclusion in the last few seconds.) “That trapdoor leads +to a place that’s fine as a receptacle for stolen radium, or anything +small like that. We know that you took this room for that sole +purpose.” +</p> + +<p> +“How d’you know?” Stella could not be tripped so easily. “Oh, well,” +she added disgustedly, “I guess it don’t take much savvy to know that +much. But I wasn’t the first one to do it. The woman who was here +before gave me the tip.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Bellew gave a low cry, quickly stifled in her handkerchief. +</p> + +<p> +“You had a confederate in this house, didn’t you?” Margot held the +girl’s eyes as she added slowly: “An elderly man by the name of +Murchison, who lived on the top floor?” +</p> + +<p> +“By jove, Margot, you’re wonderful!” It was unprofessional, but Gene +could not restrain his joy at her acumen. It was easy now to follow +her deductions step by step. +</p> + +<p> +“I got to know him after I come here,” Stella said, staring at the +floor. “He worked in some sort of a hospital, he told me.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean, don’t you, the Fellowe Institute?” Margot corrected her +gently. +</p> + +<p> +“Yeah, guess that was it. He was a pretty slick pickpocket. Used to +bring me watches and things to keep. Then one day he said he’d swiped +a tube of stuff that was worth more’n fifty thousand dollars. I +thought he was lying till I saw the fuss in the papers about the +radium.” +</p> + +<p> +A gentle question or two from Margot, and the girl told her how she +had hidden the radium in the secret chamber, Murchison having promised +her a big commission when he should sell the stuff. He had told her +that it might take a long time to sell it, because only doctors and +professors would want to buy it, and most of them would be leery about +stolen goods. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly Stella’s voice trailed off and her face grew very white. She +closed her eyes and a long shudder shook her thin shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter?” The sympathy in Margot’s voice brought a quick +response. +</p> + +<p> +“I was just thinkin’,” Stella mumbled, “of the night when things went +on the blink.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean—” Margot took her up quickly, “the night you +disappeared—three months ago?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yeah.” The girl gave her head a sudden upward jerk. Fixing her +haggard young eyes on a spot where the light reflected on the footrail +of the brass bed, she finished her astounding narrative. Her words +came in a quick-running monotone, almost without punctuation. The +substance of her story was this: +</p> + +<p> +Her acquaintance with Murchison had developed during several weeks. +One day he told her to expect him that night at ten o’clock, with a +customer. She had things ready when they arrived. She had turned back +the carpet and opened the trapdoor with an ax. Murchison brought with +him a fat man whom she had never seen. An argument took place between +the two men. The fat man, it seemed, had no idea of buying the radium. +He wanted only to rent it for a week, and he offered Murchison five +hundred dollars. Murchison objected and ended by getting very “sore,” +as Stella expressed it. He told his customer that the deal was off. +</p> + +<p> +Then Stella took a hand in the fray. She was dead broke at the time +and had counted on the commission promised her by Murchison. She took +the part of the strange man, with the result that a real scrap +started. Murchison, although elderly, was strong and wiry, and a match +for the fat man, whose muscles were soft. But between the two of +them—Stella and the stranger—Murchison was kept busy, and Stella +managed to grab the little tube of radium out of his hand. At that +point of her narrative, she moved her gaze from the bedrail to +Margot’s intensely interested eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“The old fool went crazy mad when I did that. He was a sort of a nut, +anyway. The next I knew, he’d got ahold of the fire ax and chopped at +me. I went down on the floor. The blade nicked me at the elbow joint +and went clean through. I started to scream, but somebody put his hand +over my mouth and I fainted. I came to in a private hospital. Never +found out who took me there, but somebody paid the bills and kept me +there till I got well. That’s all I know for sure.” +</p> + +<p> +No one spoke for a brief instant, then Hart said judiciously: +</p> + +<p> +“One or the other of those two crooks must have known something about +putting a tourniquet above the elbow, or you’d have bled to death +through the artery.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course it must have been one of them who took you to the hospital. +Have you any suspicion at all which of them it was—although it +doesn’t really matter,” Margot added quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“I’d take a bet it wasn’t the old fellow. He was so sore at me I guess +he’d have liked to stick me down that hole along with my arm. Then +too, I don’t believe he’d have dared go to a place like a hospital. +The other guy wasn’t a real crook, or I miss my guess.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you realize when Murchison chopped off your arm, that the radium +was clasped in that hand?” Margot asked her. +</p> + +<p> +“Well—s’pose I did, if I thought of anythin’ but the pain and the +bleedin’. But when I got my head clear, in the hospital, I figured +they’d be too scared to check up on that. I figured they’d throw the +arm and the ax into the hole, and put back the carpet so’s to hide the +bloodstains.” +</p> + +<p> +“And figuring that way, you broke in here by way of the roof, to get +the radium?” Hart spoke rapidly, then turned to Margot with a slight +inclination of his head. “Excuse me, Miss Anstruther, but my curiosity +got the better of me.” +</p> + +<p> +“It really doesn’t matter who asks the questions, Mr. Hart, or rather +who asks them <i>first</i>,” she added with a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“What did you suppose I’d come for?” Stella threw Hart a glance of +amused scorn. “Me health maybe, or maybe me arm? <i>Sure</i>, I come for +the seventy-five-thousand-dollar goods. Couldn’t pass up a little +thing like that,” she said with a twisted smile. “There was a good +chance the old devil’d beaten me to it, but it was worth a try.” +</p> + +<p> +Hart asked her if she knew the present whereabouts of Murchison. She +said she didn’t. Then Margot asked her to describe the customer who +had started all the trouble. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Stella, doubtfully, “I can’t just remember what he looked +like, except he was fat—too fat. I hate fat men.” Her gamin sense of +humor made her throw a quick glance from man to man, and add, with a +boyish grin: “Guess I aint steppin’ on anybody’s toes in this room.” +</p> + +<p> +Margot smiled to note the unconscious preening of Hart, who was the +thinnest man of them all. Then she asked Stella if that was positively +all she could remember and to tell them of the events leading up to +and following the dramatic incident of the fight over the radium. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve told you all I know, s’help me God!” +</p> + +<p> +The thin, worn face of the girl, and her tragic eyes, carried +conviction as no words could have done. Again there came a silence +which Hart waited for Margot to break, but she only stared with dark, +thoughtful eyes, straight before her. Then Hart said respectfully: +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve done a fine piece of work, Miss Anstruther. The rest of this +case should be plain sailing.” +</p> + +<p> +“You think so?” she said gently. “How about the lights on the floor +and the hand that put them out?” +</p> + +<p> +“That seems clear to me,” Hart said confidently. “The radium shone +through the floor and the carpet. You explained to us, you remember, +that radium rays can pierce through anything. I take it that these +rays also revealed an outline of the dead arm—a sort of mirage in the +dark, which, naturally, seemed to you and to Boyle, to extinguish the +flame.” +</p> + +<p> +Margot turned quickly to Gene. “Do you see it that way, Gene?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he said with conviction. “That part of the mystery was cleared +up, so far as I was concerned, while we were looking at that queer +picture to-night—Stoner’s picture. I took for granted that was what +you wanted me to deduce from it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry, Gene, but that <i>wasn’t</i> what I wanted you to get from that +picture. I rather hoped you’d get something else out of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I did,” he said eagerly, “or rather I <i>do</i>, looking back at it in the +light of what’s been thrown on the mystery here, to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Righto! We’ll take that up later.” She gave him a warning look, then +turned to Hart. +</p> + +<p> +“It sounds convincing, the way you put it, Mr. Hart, but I’ll have to +tell you that radium cannot project a mirage. Its rays are invisible +to the naked eye, except with the aid of a special apparatus. The hand +and the lights had nothing whatever to do with radium.” +</p> + +<p> +“Holy Mother Mary!” Boyle, indifferent to the stares of his audience +and callous to their amused grins, crossed himself for the third time. +“Then it was a ghost, after all, Miss?” +</p> + +<p> +“That all depends on just what you mean by a ‘ghost’.” Margot’s smile +at Boyle was enigmatic, as she intended it to be, not only to poor +Boyle but to every other person in the room. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch13"> +CHAPTER XIII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">WILL-O’-THE-WISP</span> +</h3> + +<p> +<span class="sc">The</span> love of drama which lay back of Margot’s histrionic talent, and +which had always made her create situations out of material from which +the unimaginative could weave nothing, now made her eyes shine with +the sheer delight of the artist who first creates and then interprets. +The scientist was in the background for the moment; only the actress +stood smiling and looking from one mystified face to another. +</p> + +<p> +Gene’s puzzled frown changed suddenly to a smile of encouragement and +understanding. He caught her mood and threw it back to her, with a +humorous sympathy that quickened a tenderness for him which flashed in +her eyes and curled the corners of her mouth. It was rather thrilling +to have such an absorbed audience, inclusive of Gene with his adoring +belief in her powers of analysis, and cleverness in general. +</p> + +<p> +“If it won’t bore any of you,” she began, her smile broadening at +their eager denials, “I’ll tell you just what my process of deduction +has been in this case, up to this point. Mr. Hart, what puzzles you +most of all?” +</p> + +<p> +“The matter of the lights on the carpet,” he said quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t that funny,” she said, her smile solely for Hart. “That’s just +where I was going to begin my explanation. Well—first of all, the +flame <i>I</i> saw was my own match, of course. But the one Boyle saw was +of a very different character—a most singular character, in fact. +Moreover, if there had been witnesses here at favorable moments, both +before and after, I believe they would have seen it too.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sure, it was just like me own poor luck. I’ll be thinking, that it +was meself was seein’ the quare lights!” Boyle was far too engrossed +with his subject to be conscious of Hart’s glance of disapproval. +</p> + +<p> +“That <i>was</i> a question of luck, you’re right.” Margot smiled at Boyle. +“It was the merest chance that others didn’t see the same thing. Have +any of you ever heard of what is called in Latin the <i>ignis fatuus</i>?” +</p> + +<p> +Gene nodded his head, and Hart said: “You mean what’s commonly called +the will-o’-the-wisp?” +</p> + +<p> +“Glory be!” It was Boyle again, irrepressible and oblivious of his +superior’s scowl. “It’s what you’ll be seein’ in graveyards of a dark +night!” +</p> + +<p> +“Some call it a ‘corpse-candle,’ ” contributed Quinlan, not to be +outshone by his comrade. “There’s many in the auld country that’s seen +it, I’m tellin’ you, Miss.” +</p> + +<p> +“Surely,” agreed Margot. “Millions of people in all quarters of the +world believe in it, and many have seen the thing called +will-o’-the-wisp, but not necessarily in graveyards. I saw it once +myself. I was riding a horse through a dark patch of woods, and the +weird thing came out from the underbrush and shot across the road +right in front of my horse. He shied horribly and almost threw me.” +</p> + +<p> +“What did it look like, Margot?” Gene was trying vainly to make his +own deductions. +</p> + +<p> +“Like nothing I’d ever seen before. It was like a small, live thing, +made of fire, or charged with electricity. It rolled and danced its +way along, keeping close to the ground. The encyclopedias admit that +dead animal and vegetable matter exhales a phosphorescent glow under +certain conditions. They are not sure that it ever seeps up from a +coffin, through several feet of tightly-packed earth, but they don’t +deny the possibility.” +</p> + +<p> +“Anything’s possible, I suppose,” muttered Hart. “I’m just coming to +that conclusion. Well, go on, Miss Anstruther. You’ve certainly got me +guessing.” +</p> + +<p> +“A great French writer once said that ‘he who pronounces a thing +impossible, commits an imprudence,’ so you’re playing safe, Mr. Hart,” +she said with a laugh. “Of course, all great mysteries raise the +question, ‘Can such things be?’ I fully believe that, within the +bounds of physical law, unproved and amazing phenomena may occur. And +I believe that the light that flickered on this floor—the one Boyle +saw—was a will-o’-the-wisp, from the severed arm of Stella Ball.” +</p> + +<p> +Everyone stared at her, and Boyle heaved a great sigh of relief. It +was as if her explanation had dispelled the shadow of the +supernatural, which was all that concerned or interested him. Then +Quinlan, as superstitious as Boyle, but with a quicker mind, or a more +practical one, asked a question which Margot had expected to come from +Hart. +</p> + +<p> +“What about the hand that doused the flame, Miss?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that’s quite simple. It was the hand of a person very much alive +and, I believe, dangerous.” +</p> + +<p> +“Came to that conclusion myself,” said Hart. Well, well, she thought, +for the third time, Hart wasn’t at all a fool. Then he asked her +sharply: “Whose hand? Have you got that far?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sure, if she could tell you that, Chief, the Mayor ought to make her +Police Commissioner!” Quinlan’s sarcasm was heavy, but it amused +Margot. +</p> + +<p> +“The hand,” she began solemnly, “was the hand of the man Murchison, +who stole the radium in the first place, and who is, in my opinion, +the only major criminal in the whole affair.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sure, it was the old devil,” Stella agreed eagerly. “Just like the +old crook to come snoopin’ round. He couldn’t bear to lose it. But how +the hell did he get in here without your seein’ him?” +</p> + +<p> +No one objected to the girl’s swearing. It seemed rather to give vent +to the general sentiment. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, how?” Hart was frowning again. “You don’t mean you think he was +in the room while you were in bed, and while Boyle was watching later? +Where could he have hidden, I’d like to know?” +</p> + +<p> +“Just a <i>minute</i>!” Margot couldn’t control a low laugh at Hart’s +impatience. “Murchison was <i>not</i> in this room. If he <i>had</i> been he’d +have been caught. But his <i>hand</i> was! Look! I’ll show you.” +</p> + +<p> +She pointed to the small register with its iron grill-work, a few +inches above the level of the floor, in the wall against which the +head of the bed had stood. Mrs. Bellew, up to that moment obediently +silent and motionless in her corner, came across the room with dilated +eyes. She stood, as did the others, staring at the spot indicated by +Margot, who was asking Hart to test it and telling him that he would +find it loose. Murchison, she asserted, had loosened it. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you see?” she said eagerly. “The hole’s big enough to let through +a hand and arm. It would be quite possible for a long arm to reach to +the spot where the lights appeared.” +</p> + +<p> +“And it’s a long arm he had. I remember it well!” Mrs. Bellew could no +longer keep silent. +</p> + +<p> +Hart fumbled with the grill-work. It gave way under his fingers and +slid to one side. A dark hole gaped in the wall. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll be damned if you’re not right!” Hart exploded. “But I still +don’t get the part about the lights.” He stood up and stared at Margot +inquiringly. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s like this, Mr. Hart. Murchison has been tunneling through from +the adjoining house. I calculate that he’d almost finished his job the +night the trouble started—trouble for me, I mean,” she added with a +laugh. “Of course it’s been awfully slow work. Once he got the grill +loosened, he was able to reach in and suppress the lights on the +rug—over and over again. He must have thought that the light from my +match was like the others he’d seen. The point is, he couldn’t risk +letting <i>any</i> flame or light, call attention to the secret chamber +underneath.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fine!” Hart’s thin face glowed with satisfaction and understanding. +“But there’s just one thing, Miss Anstruther, which I don’t get. Why +didn’t Murchison pick some quiet afternoon when he could have felt +fairly sure the room wasn’t occupied, and sneak in by the roof, the +way the girl did?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think I’ve checked up on that,” Margot said quietly. She turned to +the landlady. “Isn’t it a fact, Mrs. Bellew, that between Stella’s +tenancy and mine, this room was occupied by two women?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, dearie, a couple of cranky old maids they were, hipped on the +subject of thieves breaking in and stealing their valuables, although +I never could see what they had that anybody’d want.” +</p> + +<p> +“So one or the other of these women was always in the room? Is that +right?” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re right, Miss Anstruther. It was that roof they were most scared +of. They wouldn’t trust no locks or bars.” +</p> + +<p> +Margot turned shining eyes to Hart. “Isn’t that your answer?” she +asked him eagerly. “Aren’t you convinced?” +</p> + +<p> +“I sure am.” His dry, inexpressive face showed a degree of enthusiasm +that flattered Margot more subtly than his admiring: “There aren’t +many detectives on the Force as good as you are, Miss Anstruther. I’m +here to tell the world that!” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t believe, Hart, that you’ve got one quite so good!” Gene’s +eulogy was accompanied by a glance of such mute admiration that Margot +had to stifle a mad desire to run to him and throw her arms around his +neck, regardless of her audience. +</p> + +<p> +Then the natural-born pessimist in Hart came to the front. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s too bad,” he said gloomily, “that we didn’t have this +information three days ago. The old fellow’s had plenty of time to +make his getaway. He won’t be easy to find.” +</p> + +<p> +“You may be right, but my opinion of Murchison is that he simply +couldn’t tear himself away and leave that radium behind.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re right, Miss!” Stella once more became articulate. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m almost sure he’s still living right next door. He wouldn’t start +tunneling till late at night. I suggest that you go and take a look.” +She pointed to the wall. +</p> + +<p> +“Ask whoever owns the house next door to let you examine the room +corresponding to this one.” +</p> + +<p> +Hart, full of doubts, but ready by now to follow any lead suggested by +Margot, marshaled his men, and departed, taking Stella with him. +Before they left the room, Margot went up to Stella, and put her hand +with a kindly pressure on the girl’s thin shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear,” she said softly, “I don’t know anything about you; where +you came from, or what. But I do believe that you’ve been more sinned +against than sinning, from the very beginning—whatever that beginning +was. Perhaps you’ll tell me some day. In the meantime, my dear, try to +believe in my sincere sympathy. I’m going to stand by you and see that +you get a square deal, first and last. I don’t mean merely the trial +which I’m afraid you’ll have to stand. I mean <i>after</i> that. I’m going +to help you every way I can—a good job, a decent home, all the rest +of it.” +</p> + +<p> +She took Stella’s left hand in hers and gave it a little squeeze. She +smiled into her eyes—eyes as naturally distrustful as a cat’s, but +into which came a quivering light of gratitude and animal affection +such as a child feels for those who give it tenderness and love. The +beauty of trust and tenderness in Margot’s lovely face, had conquered +the girl’s ugly spirit. +</p> + +<p> +Margot dismissed or rather escaped the landlady and her inevitable +bombardment of questions and excited conjectures by telling her that +her head ached from the long strain, and that she must rest, then go +for a walk and fresh air. In her room upstairs, to which she had +beckoned Gene, she dropped wearily into an armchair, let him light a +cigarette for her, and closed her eyes, slowly inhaling and blowing +the smoke out from her parted lips. Gene sat quite still, smoking and +watching her, but venturing no word nor caress. It was the most +complete demonstration he could have made, of unity with her, and +intelligent devotion. +</p> + +<p> +When Margot finally opened her eyes and looked at him, she said +softly: +</p> + +<p> +“Gene, dear, I didn’t realize what a brick you are—just the <i>kind</i> of +a brick I like best,” she added with one of her humorous twists to +commonplace things, and a twinkle in her gray eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“You flatter me,” he said smiling, but not moving from his chair. +Again she was astonished at his understanding of her. She wasn’t quite +ready for any demonstrative expression of his feeling for her, and he +knew it. Suddenly she felt that she would be ready for it sooner than +she had supposed possible. +</p> + +<p> +“The thing I like best,” she went on, “is that you’ve let me rest +here, and haven’t asked me a single question, and all the time I know +you’ve just been seething with a desire to ask one <i>particular</i> +question, ‘ain’t it the truth?’ ” She laughed at the surprised widening +of his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“If you know that much, I won’t have to ask it,” he said, his smile +warming to a grin of appreciation of her quick wit. +</p> + +<p> +“Question and answer—I’ll supply both. You’re wondering if I have the +least idea, or rather an <i>opinion</i>, as to who the man was who came +with Murchison the night Stella was injured. Well, my dear old scout, +I certainly have—more than either an idea or an opinion. I’ve got a +life-sized conviction—otherwise known as a <i>hunch</i>!” +</p> + +<p> +“And <i>I’m</i> thinking,” Gene said quickly, “that either I’m reading your +mind with uncanny ease, or else I’m more of a sleuth than I supposed, +for I know whom you mean—your mystery-man, with the pale eyes—your +Superfilm director, Frederick Stoner.” +</p> + +<p> +“By jove!” she said with boyish eagerness. “You certainly are getting +on! I’m thrilled, I’m proud of you, Gene!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’ve gotten that far, but I’m damned if I see just how he’s +been actually mixed up in it, except that I’ve followed your +deductions pretty closely, and perhaps thought transference had +something to do with it. I knew you meant Stoner, and that’s all I do +know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Didn’t his picture, <i>The Masque of Life</i>, give you a clue—I mean +something more than your first wrong guess about the powers of +radium?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly! The impression was vague at first, but afterwards, when I +listened to some of the things you brought out, I made sense out of +two things: Stoner’s evident knowledge, superficial though it might +be—of radium, and his attitude from the beginning, of being so eager +to have you drop the mystery. Those two things seem to join up in my +mind to indicate that Stoner must have had some connection with the +theft of the radium. Is that what you mean, Margot?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, not that he was involved in the theft of it. He would be too +cautious for anything like that, and besides, impossible as he is in +some ways, he’s <i>not</i> a crook, whether from lack of nerve or +inclination, I don’t know. I’ll give you another guess,” she +challenged him. +</p> + +<p> +“My mind’s a blank. Go on, dear. My curiosity threatens to overpower +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well—here’s the dope, as Stella Ball would put it. For days my +suspicion regarding Stoner has been growing. That picture merely +confirmed it. I felt instinctively that his <i>blah</i> about publicity was +just that—blah—bunk. I knew that he was afraid of <i>something</i>. It +was for his own sake, not mine, that he wanted me to drop the case. +That meant he had something to conceal. And then, don’t forget that +queer look I used to see in his eyes, every now and then. The look I +first noticed when I gave this house as my address. But still I was +vague as to the real motive back of it all.” +</p> + +<p> +“And that picture supplied the missing link of cause and effect?” Gene +asked with quick grasp of her chain of thought. +</p> + +<p> +“Righto! That first, then Stella’s story about the mysterious ‘fat +man,’ who didn’t want to buy the radium but only <i>rent</i> it. Now <i>why</i> +would a movie director want to rent radium from a crook? Again, answer +and question, both supplied while you wait.” Her laugh was infectious. +“Now listen carefully, old dear. Stoner’s of the old school—full of +notions about impressing the poor, long-suffering public, with the +wildest sort of hoakum. And he’s rather ignorant, outside of his +business. What he knew about things such as radium, you could stuff +into a thimble.” +</p> + +<p> +“I get you,” Gene interrupted eagerly. “That radium machine in the +picture! He must have been working on that picture just at the time +Stella disappeared. He got to a certain point, then he was +stumped,—couldn’t get the effects he wanted, so he decided to try to +get hold of some radium. Must have read about the theft from the +Fellowe Institute, but how the devil did he tie up with Murchison?” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s something we may or may not find out. All depends on what we +<i>do</i> with Stoner.” Again she laughed, overcome with humor at +remembrance of Stoner’s weak attempts to fake radium. “Wasn’t it +<i>funny</i> the way he made that diabolical machine glow in the dark, and +shoot out rays like forked lightning? He must have thought that it had +those properties. About as much like <i>radium</i> as mud! But how sore he +must have been, with his bug about realism, when events forced him to +get his effects by hoakum, and rotten hoakum at that!” +</p> + +<p> +“Speaking of ‘hoakum,’ may I be permitted, my dear girl, to outrage +your feelings by applying just that word to most of your eloquence on +the subject of ‘ignis fatuus’—‘corpse +candle’—‘will-o’-the-wisp’—whatever it’s called?” Gene grinned at +her teasingly. +</p> + +<p> +“You’d outrage my <i>intelligence</i>—and your own—if you didn’t regard +my eloquence on the subject in just that light. Of course there’s more +than a grain of truth as to the unproved yet undeniable possibilities +regarding the phosphorescence from dead animal and vegetable matter. +But in this case I skimmed lightly over thin ice—weak logic—in +certain places.” +</p> + +<p> +“Notably,” Gene interjected quickly, “in your ignoring of the fact +that if the desiccated arm had been preserved from decay by heat and +dryness, no exhaling of phosphorescence would be possible. I had to +laugh at the way Hart swallowed whole all you said.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps he didn’t, really, but he seemed to. He’d been so darn +skeptical, that when finally I got him on the run in my exposition of +events, and he was eating right out of my hand, I couldn’t resist the +temptation to see how far I could go. Besides, Gene, I think my +imagination took the bit in its teeth. I almost believed what I was +saying, once I’d started.” +</p> + +<p> +“Briefly, as I see it, Margot, the light you saw was a match, and +Boyle, with his superstitious fears, might have seen anything, and you +don’t actually <i>know</i> that there <i>were</i> any lights at any time, for +Murchison to tap out. Isn’t that it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly. The night I got the scare, undoubtedly he saw my match and +thought it safer to put it out while waiting for a propitious moment +for what he planned to do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, to return to Stoner. I can’t see why you’re in doubt as to what +to do with <i>that</i> bird.” +</p> + +<p> +“Just because, dear, Stoner’s more of a fool than a knave, in my +humble opinion. If Murchison is caught—which I’m sure he’ll be—and +if Murchison squeals, as they call it, on Stoner—which I’m not so +sure of, for rogues sometimes have strange spasms of honor—then of +course he could be punished for trafficking in stolen goods. But <i>I’m</i> +not going to be the one to denounce him to the police. After all, he +hasn’t committed a <i>crime</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good Lord! You’re not going to let him go scot free!” +</p> + +<p> +“No—not exactly.” The smile on Margot’s lips was a trifle feline in +quality. “I have a subtle revenge and punishment planned, which I’m +going to start going to-morrow. My unseen weapon is to be Corinne +Delamar. Can’t you picture the rumpus she’ll start? First a personal +one with her quondam lover, then one staged on a larger scale with the +entire Superfilm organization as props, actors and camera men.” +</p> + +<p> +“By George, Margot! You’d have been invaluable to the subtle gentlemen +at the time of the Inquisition!” +</p> + +<p> +“Not quite so bad as that, am I?” She asked, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +She read his answer in his eyes, and his sudden spring from his chair, +as he came toward her. At that most inopportune moment—her heart said +it was inopportune—the telephone rang. She had had a connection put +in her new quarters. She ran to the instrument, brushing by Gene’s +outstretched arms, and took up the receiver. +</p> + +<p> +“Hello! Yes… yes… Fine! All right!” He heard her call into the +mouthpiece, then she turned to him, and seized his arm excitedly. +</p> + +<p> +“They’ve arrested Murchison!” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch14"> +CHAPTER XIV.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">LOVE’S ALARM</span> +</h3> + +<p> +<span class="sc">Cornelius Hart</span> surprised and delighted Margot with his unsuspected +power for dramatic narrative. It was almost as exciting, she told him +sweetly, as if she had been present at the pursuit, discovery and +final capture of Murchison. +</p> + +<p> +“… and so, after we’d smashed in his door, and searched everywhere in +his almost empty room, I knew there was only one place he could be. +He’d locked himself into the room, for the lodging-house woman next +door was positive she’d seen him go up a short time before. She was +equally sure he hadn’t come down again. Funny, the way those dames +keep track of their lodgers!” The amused reflection cut into his +narrative. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, isn’t it!” Margot laughed, with a sudden picture of her own +landlady snooping around in halls and outside of doors. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, as I was saying, I knew he was inside that room. There was no +roof, like outside that room of yours, for him to get out on and no +fire-escape either. I took one look at the hole he’d dug to get into +this house, and I had a pretty good hunch where the old fellow was +hiding. So we poked into it. I’ll be damned if he hadn’t crawled so +far in, and was so tightly wedged in the tunnel, that it took two of +us to drag him out by his heels.” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor old thing, I’m a little sorry for him, after all.” Margot’s +tender heart was not proof even against the menace of a criminal who +might have threatened her own safety. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t waste your pity, Miss Anstruther! He’s a hard old nut. But I’ll +say this much for him—he didn’t squeal on the man involved with him +the night the girl had her arm chopped off.” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t think he would,” Margot said, smiling at Gene. “Honor among +thieves, Mr. Hart.” +</p> + +<p> +“He may tell yet. We haven’t grilled him yet. Wait till he’s brought +to trial. That’ll be the test, when he’ll have a chance to get off +light by squealing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Rotten ethics, I should say!” Margot’s lips curled with scorn for the +strange and devious ways of the law and of what is called justice. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, that’s the way it’s always been, and always will be, I guess. +Of course you’ll have to be present at the trial, Miss Anstruther.” He +looked at her as if expecting a feminine protest, but Margot only +laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“I wouldn’t miss it for the world! And besides,” she added seriously, +“I’m sincerely interested in that poor girl, so I’d want to be on hand +for her sake, even if I didn’t have to be.” +</p> + +<p> +When Hart had gone, Margot stared thoughtfully at Gene. +</p> + +<p> +“I do hope,” she said anxiously, “that I’ll be able to get a light +sentence for that poor girl. Wish I could get her off altogether, but +I’m afraid there’s no hope for that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Guess not. But if <i>anyone</i> can influence the judge in her favor, you +can, Margot, in the circumstances. Shouldn’t be surprised if she’d go +straight after this, if they give her half a chance.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m <i>sure</i> of it. She’s got a real brain in that small head of hers, +but she’s had a rotten run for her money all her young life. ‘<i>Nous +allons changer tout cela</i>’, as the French say. But my <i>next</i> job is to +tackle our friend Stoner, through Corinne. And then—well, there’ll be +time for another matter of importance before the trial.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now what the devil have you up your sleeve?” Gene frowned +impatiently. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, a most important and thrilling affair that will demand all my +thought and time—for a few weeks.” +</p> + +<p> +Gene’s despair was obvious. It would appear that the mystery, +apparently cleared up, had fallen again. Apparently Margot was not yet +ready to give him—and his love for her—their due place in the scheme +of things. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you wish you knew?” she teased him. “All in good time, old +dear.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, Margot, there’s a limit to my endurance. I’m madly in love with +you, and you promised to face that particular tragedy—and it most +certainly is a tragedy for me until I can end this suspense—as soon +as you cleared up the mystery. Now it’s cleared up, and you actually +have the nerve to tell me that when you’ve cleaned up Delamar and +Stoner, you’ve still got another important matter to adjust!” +</p> + +<p> +“I did say that, didn’t I?” Her eyes tried to look dreamily absent, in +a mist of uncertainty, but she couldn’t prevent the spark of laughter +and roguish dart of mischief as her glance met his. +</p> + +<p> +“You <i>are</i> a little devil!” He made a rush at her, but she was too +quick for him. +</p> + +<p> +“Come on, now, Gene! I’m famished and I’m sure you are too. Let’s +celebrate with a good dinner somewhere which includes the privilege of +buying as many cocktails as we can swallow. I feel just like it, and I +know just the place. Come on!” +</p> + +<p> +Cocktails and dinner and jazz! It was the cheeriest, jolliest evening +Margot had enjoyed since the night of her now famous party. The late +editions of the evening papers gave a grotesquely lurid account of the +arrest of Murchison and of the events leading up to it, events in +which Margot Anstruther, the beautiful and clever young screen star—a +star, mind you!—had played the rôle of detective in the most +thrilling of mystery stories since the time of Sherlock Holmes. Some +particularly enterprising reporter had got hold of a picture of +Margot—a “still” from the studio—in the costume of “Conchita.” The +morning papers would of course have additional details—most of them +Simon Pure inventions, unless she interviewed the reporters, which she +did, later in the evening, before going home. +</p> + +<p> +Margot and Gene took bets as to what Stoner would do on reading the +news about Murchison and the stolen radium. Gene bet that he would +give himself away by his consciousness of guilt. Margot believed that +he would bluff it out, and would try to get word to Murchison, to +attempt to bribe the old man not to drag him into it. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course,” Margot said, “he’s been on pins and needles for fear I’d +unearth something. But now that the story of the radium and Stella’s +arm has come out, and Stoner’s name hasn’t been remotely referred to, +I think he’ll feel quite safe except for Murchison. You wait and see +if I’m not right.” +</p> + +<p> +“As you’ve been right about everything else to date, I’ll take your +word for it, Margot.” +</p> + +<p> +She refused throughout the evening to talk about herself. When Gene +took her home, she let him go into her room to smoke a cigarette, but +love-making seemed to be taboo. She was tired, she was nervous, she +was sleepy—any one of the hundred things a woman can be when she +doesn’t want a man’s caresses. Finally Gene, baffled and a little +resentful, rose to go. +</p> + +<p> +He bent over her, his eager eyes and lips demanding at least a +good-night kiss. She rose slowly and put both hands on his shoulders, +looking him squarely in the eyes, without the suspicion of a smile. +She said solemnly: +</p> + +<p> +“You may kiss me good night, Gene—as a <i>brother</i>. It may be for the +very last time,” with which vague threat she kissed him herself, on +the lips, in a frankly sisterly manner, and she laughed suddenly into +his puzzled eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Puzzlement changed quickly to resentment. She saw his eyes darken and +flash, and his lips tighten. He drew back and shook off her hands from +his shoulders. Then he said quietly: +</p> + +<p> +“You’re making a fool of me, Margot, and I don’t particularly relish +it. If my love for you strikes you merely as a joke, or something to +be sisterly about, it’s time I got out from under. I’m getting a +little tired of mysteries and of a game which amuses only one of us.” +</p> + +<p> +Surprised, then suddenly angry at his impatience and failure to +respond to her mood, Margot spoke coldly. +</p> + +<p> +“Your remark about getting out from under would seem to imply that +I’ve been trying to <i>hold</i> you. That’s a little far-fetched, isn’t it, +Gene?” +</p> + +<p> +He took a step nearer to her, his eyes glowing with suddenly released +passion. With a sweep of his arm he seized her and crushed her against +him. He bent his head and kissed her eyes and then her mouth as he had +never dared to kiss her before. She was too startled to struggle in +his arms, and as suddenly as he had seized her he let her go. His +lips, trembling from their passionate contact with hers, formed words +that tumbled brokenly, one over the other. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>That’s</i>—just how—<i>brotherly</i>—I feel—for you. That’s the way—I’m +going to kiss you—if at all. I’ll never kiss you again—I’ll never +<i>see</i> you—again—unless you send for me—to be your husband—or your +lover.” He seemed to fling the last word at her in bitter defiance. +</p> + +<p> +“Your—technique—hasn’t improved.” She knew that it had, but she said +that, urged by a vague, primitive desire to see what he would do if +further exasperated. She might have known that he would take her a +little too literally. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he said, with slow bitterness. “I don’t suppose it has,” and +with that, and before she could detain him with a word or look, he +tore open her door and slammed it behind him. +</p> + +<p> +Silly—silly, of them both, Margot reflected, as she undressed. Of +course Gene would get over his extraordinary burst of angry +resentment, and, of course, when he understood just what she had meant +by saying that he could give her a brotherly kiss for the last time, +he would be sorry he had been so fierce. However, it was rather +interesting and exciting to find that Gene <i>could</i> be fierce like +that. +</p> + +<p> +She touched her lips softly, still feeling the pressure of his. She +smiled and a little thrill of genuine emotion made her tremble. For +the first time in several nights, Margot slept the dreamless sleep of +a happy, healthy girl who is in love with life and in love with a man. +Gene’s outburst had made very clear to her that she loved him. She +would call him back, oh, yes, nothing would be easier, but she would +wait until.… Into unconsciousness she carried the vision of his face +with its dark, flashing eyes, and the touch of his lips on hers. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch15"> +CHAPTER XV.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">STONER’S SHARE</span> +</h3> + +<p> +<span class="sc">Margot</span> made an early start for Astoria. Her impatience to talk with +Corinne Delamar would have brought her to the studio still earlier if +there had been any hope of finding the star on the lot before eleven +o’clock. Very different, this voluntary call upon Corinne, to Margot’s +last visit, solicited by the star and made by Margot with bored +distaste. She laughed softly to herself, remembering her eavesdropping +and the advantage it had given her over Stoner. It might be true that +listeners never hear good of themselves, but at least it would appear +that sometimes what they heard in this unapproved manner gave them the +whip-handle in dealing with crooks, or, to be more charitable, those +who followed crooked ways. +</p> + +<p> +She went straight to Corinne’s dressing-room. The colored maid said +that her mistress was doing a scene a short distance from the studio, +but would return in a half hour, she thought. Margot waited an hour, +amusing herself with a movie periodical she found in the +dressing-room. Among other diverting matter it contained an interview +with Miss Delamar, which gave a word picture of the actress as a +person of high ideals, strict views on love and marriage, and a belief +that the moving picture industry was the greatest symbol of art for +art’s sake, and morality for the world, that had so far been +discovered. Very clever of Corinne! And clever of the interviewer, who +had carefully avoided the slightest suggestion of irony. That was the +sort of thing the movie fans ate up, and what the moving-picture +industry hoped that they would digest and thrive on. There was also a +“still” of Corinne, which indicated a beauty as ravishing as it was +pure and noble. Well, well! Margot wondered if she would ever have +such a chance to laugh at a description of herself. +</p> + +<p> +Corinne stood in the small doorway looking at Margot with curious but +not antagonistic eyes. Margot rose quickly and asked her pardon for +having taken the liberty of waiting for her in her dressing-room. She +particularly did not wish to see anyone else, she carefully explained. +Corinne, dressed as the heroine in <i>A Toreador’s Love</i>, and looking +prettier than usual—a purely fleshly prettiness—was gracious in a +stilted way (the only way possible to her, when she felt socially +inferior to another woman), told Margot please to sit down, and +offered her a cigarette. Margot, remembering that her father had once +told her that in any interview the first advantage lies with the one +who speaks last, deliberately waited for Corinne to begin the +conversation. Margot could be silent, with a beaming smile, and gentle +repose of manner, most misleading to strangers. +</p> + +<p> +“What can I do for you, Miss Anstruther?” That wasn’t so stupid of +Corinne, Margot thought, smiling sweetly, for it put her at once in +the position of one dispensing patronage. Margot’s smile became still +more friendly and confidential. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s awfully nice of you, Miss Delamar, but you see, I’ve come to +do something for <i>you</i>!” +</p> + +<p> +Corinne’s cigarette hung loosely from her painted lips, as she stared +at Margot. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t quite see what <i>you</i> can do for <i>me</i>, Miss Anstruther—in the +circumstances.” Nasty dig that, thought Margot, still smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“Nevertheless,” she said gently, “I’m going to try to. And one of my +reasons for doing so, Miss Delamar, is that I have always liked you.” +Naughty Margot! What more subtle way of patronizing than to assure an +acquaintance that you’ve always liked them? Yet the genuine ring of +friendliness in her voice made Corinne say quickly: +</p> + +<p> +“And, as a matter of fact, I’ve liked you, although there seemed to be +plenty of reason why I shouldn’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re mistaken. There hasn’t been any such reason—not for a +moment.” This time there was no doubt of Margot’s sincerity. +</p> + +<p> +“You mean—what you said the last time you were here—about having no +particular use for Fred Stoner, in a personal way, I mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that, and all that stuff he filled your head with about my +working publicity in order to get an advantage over you. What I told +you that day—just the other day, but it seems ages ago—I’ve come +here to-day to prove to you, Miss Delamar.” +</p> + +<p> +Corinne frowned, looking from Margot to the floor, out into space and +back at Margot as if trying to piece together disconnected facts. Then +she said: +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know what you have to tell me, but I suppose it has something +to do with your mystery story. Although I can’t imagine how <i>that</i> can +concern Stoner or me, now that you’re no longer in the cast, Miss +Anstruther.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you read what the papers published last night and this morning?” +Margot asked quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“I read this morning’s story. How much of it is true?” +</p> + +<p> +“All of it! I got hold of some newspaper men last night, and made them +agree to write it up for to-day’s papers with some idea of sticking to +facts. But of course there’s a lot they didn’t print because they know +nothing about it. And it’s <i>that</i> I’ve come here to tell you. You +remember the reference to the fat man whom Stella Ball said had come +to her room that night, with Murchison, offering to pay a certain sum +for the rental for a week of the radium stolen by Murchison?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. The one who is supposed to have paid the girl’s hospital bill?” +Corinne seemed to make no connection yet, in her mystified brain. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, that fat man—as the girl described him—was—is—a would-be +famous film director, by name Frederick Stoner!” +</p> + +<p> +Corinne stared at her without speaking. The ashes from her cigarette +fell over her breast, and she threw the cigarette into a corner of the +room. Finally she said slowly: +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose—Miss Anstruther—you wouldn’t dare—make such a +statement—without being able—to give proof?” +</p> + +<p> +“Hardly!” Margot gave a short laugh, a hard little laugh, recalling +Stoner’s contemptible treatment of her and of Gene. +</p> + +<p> +“What <i>is</i> your proof?” +</p> + +<p> +“The ‘proof’ will speak for himself.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean the man Murchison, but he’s refused, the police say, to +squeal on his customer, as he calls him. You mean you know that +Murchison will give it away in court?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I don’t mean that at all. I mean that the man himself—the one +who was there <i>with</i> Murchison, will be the living proof, and to +<i>you</i>, Miss Delamar.” +</p> + +<p> +Corinne studied her with narrowed, suspicious eyes. She seemed trying +to take the measure of the quiet, self-contained girl who sat in front +of her, throwing out vague hints, that perhaps weren’t so vague after +all. An expression flashed suddenly in her green eyes, which told +Margot that Corinne’s intelligence had risen to the occasion. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose you’re insinuating, Miss Anstruther, that you’ve got enough +on Fred Stoner to force his confession?” +</p> + +<p> +“Precisely! And his confession to you in my presence, if you’ll be so +kind as to send for him. And just one thing more, before he comes. I +don’t believe that Stoner is always aboveboard in his affairs with +women. I want to confess something myself. The other day, when you +sent for me, I started to go to my dressing-room before seeing you. As +I reached the foot of the stairs, I heard your voice talking about me. +I felt no hesitancy in listening, after hearing my own name, in view +of your sending for me and of the attitude Stoner had taken about my +investigating the mystery of my room.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean to say you heard the whole conversation?” Corinne’s red +lips trembled and her eyes darkened with anger. +</p> + +<p> +“Hardly that, for I’ve no idea how long it was going on before I +arrived. Also I ran off after I’d heard enough to prove what I’d +already suspected, that he was trying his best to start something +between you and me.” +</p> + +<p> +“You didn’t hear anything—anything of a more—personal nature?” +</p> + +<p> +“Personal, you mean, Miss Delamar, as between you and Stoner? I’m +afraid I did. I heard enough to understand that you thought—as you +implied to me in our <i>first</i> short interview—that I was flirting with +him, and that he was interested in me. I heard also enough to know +that he has either lied to you or lied to me or—as is quite as +likely—lied to both of us. I heard him assure you of his loyal +devotion, or something like that, and of his utter indifference to me. +And I want to tell you, because I really like you, that his advances +toward me, whatever his motives may have been, took the form of forced +love-making in my room, when he had come unbidden, with the excuse of +having a theory to give me about my mystery. And not only did he force +his physical attentions, but he begged me to marry him, took away my +job because I refused—incidentally I struck him across the +face—because I lost my temper—and told me he’d give the job back to +me any time I might decide to marry him.” +</p> + +<p> +Corinne had not interrupted by a word or a gesture, merely watching +with eyes that glinted like a cat’s. Then she said: +</p> + +<p> +“I believe what you say, for if your statement about his being the man +who wanted to rent the radium is true, then you can punish him enough +in that direction without revenging yourself by lying about his asking +you to marry him.” +</p> + +<p> +Margot, rather amazed by Corinne’s ability to reason so logically, +said eagerly: +</p> + +<p> +“That’s absolutely right. My only reason for telling you that part of +the story which concerns Stoner and myself in a personal way, is +because it concerns you also, in so much as I have reason to believe +that you’ve felt an interest in Stoner which I’m afraid he doesn’t +appreciate. As one woman to another, I want to warn you.” +</p> + +<p> +In spite of the makeup on cheeks and lips, Corinne had turned very +white. Margot felt a chill disgust, tempered by pity, that so pretty, +and, she believed, decent a girl as Corinne, should have fallen for a +man like Stoner. Corinne moistened her dry lips and called to her +maid. She told her to find the director and tell him that Miss Delamar +must see him at once on an urgent matter. Then she cautioned the maid, +in no circumstances to let Stoner suspect that she had a caller in her +dressing-room. +</p> + +<p> +Corinne turned to her dressing-table, studied her face in the mirror, +and carefully rubbed in some cold cream, rubbed it off, added a soft +liquid powder, then a cream rouge on lips and cheeks, then a soft +dusting of powder. Also she put some drops in her eyes. Then she +forced a smile and told Margot that she was ready to receive the +“would-be famous film director.” Strange, Margot thought, that +although Corinne had been loath to believe ill of Stoner when it +concerned crooked outside dealings, she seemed to have accepted +Margot’s arraignment of him regarding their personal relations, +without question! +</p> + +<p> +Margot would never forget Stoner’s expression when he stood just +inside the small dressing-room, and met her amused and calmly accusing +eyes. Corinne, watching him with her green eyes, did not miss the +quick batting of his eyelids, the drawing in of his thick lips, and +the yellowish film that covered, for an instant, the iris of his pale +blue eyes, when his first glance discovered Margot sitting at ease in +the star’s dressing-room. +</p> + +<p> +Again Margot conferred the disadvantage on her antagonist, by giving +him the first chance to speak, and Corinne intuitively did the same. +Stoner, his eyes half covered by his heavy lids, looked with surly +assurance from one woman to the other. Instinctively he seemed to feel +their alignment, and antagonism to him. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you want?” he said with gruff abruptness, his expressionless +eyes fixed on the star. +</p> + +<p> +Before Corinne could answer him, Margot said quietly: +</p> + +<p> +“<i>She</i> doesn’t really want anything of you, Mr. Stoner. <i>I’m</i> the one +who wants to see you.” She held his eyes with a gaze so keen and +masterful that his glance wavered and fell. +</p> + +<p> +“I just wanted to tell you, Mr. Stoner, in the presence of Miss +Delamar, that I know, beyond any possibility of doubt or denial on +your part, that you were the man who went to the room of Stella Ball +and who wanted to rent that radium!” +</p> + +<p> +As if against his will, his eyes once more met Margot’s. There was no +mistaking that look of fear, followed swiftly by a gleam of anger. +</p> + +<p> +“Hell of a lot you know about me!” +</p> + +<p> +His language, though inelegant, made Margot smile in his face, which +enraged him still further. He glared at her venomously. +</p> + +<p> +“I was a fool to choose <i>you</i> that day, instead of Lulu Leinster.” +</p> + +<p> +Margot’s irritating smile broadened. +</p> + +<p> +“I believe I’ve heard you express those sentiments before, Mr. Stoner. +In view of what I know about you, your reason for choosing me that +day, for the picture, is quite obvious. I repeat my accusation about +Stella Ball and the radium.” +</p> + +<p> +Stoner’s face grew purple. “What the devil do you mean by telling such +lies? Don’t you know you can be sued for libel—defamation of +character?” His threat held so much bluster that it made Margot smile +again. +</p> + +<p> +“Not by you, Mr. Stoner, for what I accuse you of isn’t libel or +defamation of character. It’s God’s truth. Quite apart from the way +you aroused my suspicions by all that rot about publicity, and your +evident eagerness to make me drop the matter of my mystery—not to +mention a very strange expression I caught in your eyes several times, +notably when I first gave you my address; your behavior the night you +called on me (your call was merely a ruse to examine that room), your +extraordinary antics in the room where the policeman was keeping +guard, and your still more extraordinary and utterly unconvincing +theory about the lights and the hand putting them out—merely an +attempt to choke off my theories, or an excuse for your call; all this +set the stage beautifully for the final curtain.” She stopped, +watching him with amusement overlaying her serious intent to corner +him. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” Sheer curiosity forced the quick question. +</p> + +<p> +“I mean, Mr. Stoner, the remarkable kick I got out of your picture +<i>The Masque of Life</i>, with its weird and absurd portrayal of the magic +properties of radium!” +</p> + +<p> +She saw his lips twitch and his pale eyes grow darker as the pupils +dilated. She knew that what she saw, Corinne must also see, but she +would not shift her glance from Stoner’s self-accusing face. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m a damn fool to stand here talking to you,” he said, wetting his +lips. “But since you’ve started things, you might as well finish. What +in all creation has that picture got to do with that girl Stella and +the man Murchison?” +</p> + +<p> +“Everything in creation,” Margot said, smiling. “I’m not accusing you +of having a thing to do with the <i>theft</i> of the radium, Mr. Stoner, +but I do assert that when you wanted to get more realism into your +picture, you thought it would be a fine idea to get hold of some +radium. I haven’t <i>yet</i> mastered all the details of your acquaintance +with Murchison, but I know beyond all doubt, that you tried your best +to get the radium <i>he’d</i> stolen, <i>knowing</i> he’d stolen it, which of +course, makes you an accessory after the crime, Mr. Stoner.” +</p> + +<p> +He worked his mouth into a twisted, scornful smile, as he said +threateningly: +</p> + +<p> +“You just try, young lady, making any public charge like the one +you’ve just made.” +</p> + +<p> +“She won’t have to! <i>I’ll</i> do the charging—to our board of +directors!” Corinne stood up and glared into his astonished eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Surprise changed to insensate rage as he stared back at his star. +</p> + +<p> +“You will, will you! Well, you just try it, and see where <i>you</i> get +off!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” she said calmly, “I expect to get off very well, thank you. I +expect to get a new director for our company who won’t have to consort +with crooks in order to put on pictures and make himself famous.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re crazy!” He looked a little that way himself, as his lips and +hands worked convulsively. “What do you think you can prove of this +girl’s wild story? Nothing—absolutely nothing!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes she can, Mr. Stoner.” Margot’s voice had velvet in it, and +her smile was sweeter than ever. “You seem to have forgotten that the +girl Stella Ball, although deprived of one arm, thanks to the quarrel +between you and Murchison, still has the perfect use of her eyes—both +of them. She says she could pick you out anywhere, at a single glance. +She’ll never forget you, she says.” +</p> + +<p> +Lie, little Margot, lie in a good cause! Why not! It was a good and a +safe card to play, for without doubt Stella <i>would</i> recognize Stoner +at a glance, even if she failed to describe him accurately. And the +wild shot went straight home. Stoner seemed to crumble, morally, right +before their eyes. Margot, quick to follow up an advantage, went on +with quiet assurance. +</p> + +<p> +“You see, Mr. Stoner, you can do one of three things. You’re really +lucky to have so much to choose from, and you really owe that to me. +You can make a break for the open; get out while the getting’s still +good, prove—to our satisfaction—your guilt beyond question, but +escape, perhaps, its penalty. Or you can face your board of directors +and deny my accusations, which will enable <i>me</i> to prove them to +<i>every</i>one’s satisfaction. Or—and permit me to suggest that this last +would be your wisest course—you can admit the facts to your board of +directors, plead clemency, which Miss Delamar and I will also plead +for you, take what’s coming to you, so far as getting out of this +company is concerned, and escape the penalty of the law, also the +ignominy of having other film companies hear the truth about you. I’m +sure that if you make it easy for everyone concerned, your board of +directors will agree to keep the story from spreading.” +</p> + +<p> +Corinne’s large and expressive eyes stared at Margot with an +admiration as sincere as it was obvious. Then the star turned a +haughty glance of dismissal at Stoner. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s about all, Fred Stoner, except that I’d like to tell you that +I’m fully aware of all the lies you’ve told me, first and last, and if +I do agree to do what Miss Anstruther suggests, and ask the Board to +give you clemency, I want you to understand that it will be because +I’d be afraid that otherwise, your vast and ridiculous conceit would +imagine I was trying to wreak vengeance on you for personal reasons. +And now, please go!” +</p> + +<p> +He went—without another word—and Margot returned in full measure, +the admiration Corinne had given her. +</p> + +<p> +“That was very, very clever of you,” she said earnestly. “That last +remark, I mean. I think that between us, Miss Delamar, we’ve been just +a little too much for the gentleman.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gentleman!” Corinne’s scorn lay too deep for humor or irony. +</p> + +<p> +“Just a form of speech, my dear. And now let me tell you how very glad +I am that you and I are going to be friends, as of course we shall be +after this. And, by the way, could you fix it up so that I can be +present at the meeting of the board of directors?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” Corinne said warmly. “I wouldn’t miss having you there. +In fact, it’s quite necessary that you should be. And I am glad too +that we can be friends. And I’m grateful to you for showing me what an +awful fool I’ve been for taking any stock in that man, or anything +that he’s ever said to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I didn’t mean it that way,” Margot said hastily. “I don’t think +you’ve been a fool at all, but I didn’t want to see you in danger of +being put in a false position.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very nice of you to put it that way. Well, good-by!” And she took +Margot’s outstretched hand in a friendly clasp of good-fellowship and +trust. +</p> + +<p> +And that was that, as Margot said to herself, with her ironic and +characteristic manner of disposing of a situation or a problem. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch16"> +CHAPTER XVI.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">A KING’S RANSOM IN RADIUM</span> +</h3> + +<p> +<span class="sc">A telegram</span> from Corinne Delamar, later in the day, advised Margot +that the strategically planned directors’ meeting was to take place +the following morning at eleven, and would Margot please be on hand +without fail. Not that Corinne so described the meeting, but Margot +knew her well enough by this time, to be sure of the strategy implied. +</p> + +<p> +She decided to telephone Gene to ask him to come to see her the +following evening. For the moment she was weary of discussion and +analysis, and not in the mood for an interview with Gene which was +likely to be rather strenuous, everything considered. Besides, she +would prefer to clean up her “job” as amateur detective—dispose +finally of Stoner—before coming to an understanding with Gene. It did +not occur to her that he might be sulking, or that he could be +anything but eager to answer her summons. +</p> + +<p> +Her telephone call brought no response. Strange, because Gene was +invariably in his room at that hour, waiting for a call from her. She +rang his number twice more before going to bed. She wondered where he +could be, and a vague uneasiness possessed her. Could he actually be +angry with her to the point of not answering the phone? Funny old +Gene! Well, she’d explain things to-morrow night. +</p> + +<p> +The next morning she met Corinne in her dressing-room. It was getting +to be a habit, Margot told the star, with her customary whimsicality. +</p> + +<p> +“Funny, isn’t it!” Corinne laughed, making Margot welcome. “If +anybody’d told me a week ago that you and I would be getting chummy +about anything under the shining sun—Stoner least of all—I’d have +told them to go to an alienist. But here we are, actually in cahoots +to see that our friend gets his just deserts.” She offered her guest a +cigarette, then lighted it for her, adding: “And the funniest part of +the whole thing is that I’m not a bit unhappy about it. It was a shock +at first, but that’s all. I find I’m not really one little bit in love +with Stoner, and I thought I was, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m mighty glad you’re not!” Margot said earnestly. “He isn’t fit to +clean your shoes, Miss Delamar.” +</p> + +<p> +“He never would have.” Corinne looked down at her shoes and laughed +contemptuously. “He’s the kind who, after a few months of marriage, +would let his wife clean <i>his</i> shoes. It’s strange, once you begin +shedding your illusions about a person, how clearly you see every +fault.” +</p> + +<p> +“Too clearly, I think,” Margot said thoughtfully. “If you’ve begun by +exaggerating a person’s good points, when you begin to wake up you +almost always exaggerate the bad points. I’m quite sure that no man is +ever as good as the woman who loves him believes him to be, and never +as bad as the woman who hates him considers him to be. It’s the same +the other way round.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re some little philosopher, aren’t you, Miss Anstruther? No +wonder you ferreted out Stoner’s connection with your mystery. You’re +awfully clever. I wish I were!” +</p> + +<p> +“If it’s that bad,” laughed Margot, “I’ll have to become a little +<i>more</i> clever and disguise the fact that I <i>am</i> clever. Clever girls +aren’t popular, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, <i>you’re</i> popular, so there must be exceptions.” There was no +mistaking Corinne’s sincerity. She was not simply flattering Margot, +with or without design. +</p> + +<p> +“Everyone here has been awfully kind to me.” It was so trite a remark +that Margot chuckled inwardly at her concession to the commonplace. +</p> + +<p> +Corinne glanced at her watch. “About ten minutes more, then we’ll have +to go to the board room. Won’t it be amusing seeing Stoner make a fool +of himself—as of course he will, trying to worm himself out of the +corner we’ve got him in!” +</p> + +<p> +“Does he know about this directors’ meeting?” +</p> + +<p> +“He does not,” said Corinne with a vicious little dab at her nose with +her powder pad. “Or rather, if he’s heard about it it’s by snooping +round, for he hasn’t been officially notified. You see”—she gave a +sudden laugh—“the directors don’t know themselves. I didn’t want +anything to leak out, so I merely sent a note to our manager, Marx +Klein, saying that there was something of the utmost importance which +I wished to take up with the board of directors to-day, and would he +please call a meeting. He sent back word that he would.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve certainly got the power to make them sit up and take notice, +Miss Delamar.” Margot smiled with frank approval. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve got my nerve, perhaps you mean, but it’s this way. When you get +to be a star, you can have as much ‘temperament’ as you like. They +don’t dare squelch it. So when I ask for anything special, they take +for granted that a refusal will mean some kind of a blow-out on my +part, and they don’t dare risk it. I’ve never asked for a board +meeting <i>before</i>, so they’re sure it’s something out of the ordinary.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which it certainly is,” laughed Margot. +</p> + +<p> +“Well—at least it will mean the official removal of Stoner’s fat +head. A sore head it’ll be before we get through with him.” +</p> + +<p> +A tap on the door, and the black face of Corinne’s maid, with bright, +bulging eyes, whispering to her mistress that the director would like +to have a few minutes’ conversation with her. Could he come in? +</p> + +<p> +“Now, what the devil!” Corinne scowled, looking from the maid to +Margot. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you suppose he’s come to beg for mercy?” Margot whispered. +</p> + +<p> +“A lot of good it’ll do him! Shall we see him or not?” She seemed to +depend on Margot’s judgment. +</p> + +<p> +“I think we might as well,” Margot said thoughtfully. “It’s always as +well to hear whatever your enemy—or your victim”—she suppressed a +giggle—“has to say for himself.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right. Tell him to come in,” Corinne said to the maid. +</p> + +<p> +Stoner stepped into the small inclosure. If the girls had expected to +see a browbeaten, anxious or suppliant Frederick Stoner, they were +disappointed. His shoulders were straight, his head erect, and his +eyes clear and direct in their gaze, first at one girl, then at the +other. In sheer astonishment at his expression and attitude, Corinne +kept silence. Her face showed her surprise, but Margot’s expression +was not so easy to read. She wondered if he’d come with any sort of a +threat up his sleeve. It would serve no purpose if so. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” he said, slowly. “I hear a board meeting is to take place +shortly. I heard of it last night. I’ve got something to say to you +two. I’m not a fool, whatever else you may think me, and I know damn +well that I gave myself away in this very room, yesterday.” He looked +at Margot as he spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“You certainly did,” she said quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“But that wouldn’t cut much ice, Miss Anstruther, if you didn’t have +the goods on me in the person of that skinny little thing, Stella +Ball.” Again he paused and stared at her. +</p> + +<p> +Humph! That impromptu shot of hers had certainly gone home! It was a +good shot, anyway. A legitimate shot! She said quietly: +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I knew, Mr. Stoner, that you were intelligent enough to +realize just what Stella Ball’s recognition of you and testimony would +mean.” +</p> + +<p> +“Right. But if I’d been smart enough to bluff you out on your +deductions, and all that tripe that didn’t and couldn’t <i>prove</i> +anything, you’d probably never have thought of the Stella end of it.” +</p> + +<p> +Margot merely smiled, but her instant thought was that he had more +logic than she had supposed. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you come here now just for the pleasure of telling us what we +know already—that we’ve got the goods on you?” Corinne’s voice rasped +sharply and baneful yellow lights shone in her green eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I didn’t,” Stoner snapped at her. “I’ll tell you what I came for. +To tell you that you won’t have the satisfaction of making a fool of +me before any company directors.” He turned to look again at Margot. +“I decided last night to choose an alternative <i>not</i> suggested by you. +I’m going to get out while the getting’s good, but I’m not <i>sneaking</i> +out. And, by the way, Miss Anstruther, you may be interested to hear +that the lovely Lulu is coming out there too.” +</p> + +<p> +Corinne gave a start, and her eyes drew together in a quick frown as +she stared at Stoner. There was something in his smile that suggested +malice. +</p> + +<p> +“Why should I be interested particularly in Lulu’s plans?” Margot +asked the question with cool impudence because his smile affected her +unpleasantly. +</p> + +<p> +He shrugged one shoulder. “Thought you’d be glad to know she’s getting +out of your way.” +</p> + +<p> +“Out of <i>my</i> way!” Irritation gave way to astonishment. “Just what do +you mean by that, Mr. Stoner?” +</p> + +<p> +“We—ll——” He rubbed the back of his head in affected embarrassment. +“Valery, you know. Thought you’d be glad to have her out of <i>his</i> +way.” +</p> + +<p> +Margot regarded him with puzzled eyes, but Corinne’s lips smiled +sneeringly. +</p> + +<p> +“What perfect rot!” she said disgustedly. +</p> + +<p> +Stoner turned to her angrily. “Where do you come into this thing? +Margot’s no fool. She must know that Gene Valery is rushing the +Leinster kid. Why, I saw them together at a night club, about one +o’clock this morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe you’re lying.” Corinne spoke with deceptive gentleness. +“Just when, may I ask, did you engage Lulu to go out to the coast?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh—recently,” Stoner said, indicating vagueness of time and space +with a wave of his fat hand. +</p> + +<p> +From narrowed eyes Corinne watched him, gave a low sound that +suggested a grunt of contempt and disbelief, then turned a friendly +glance upon Margot. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, Miss Anstruther, neither you nor I have the slightest +interest in Lulu Leinster’s movements. But we’re very much interested +in Stoner’s. You say,” she said sternly, looking at the director, +“that you’re getting out of here. Just when, may I ask?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mailed my resignation to the president last night. He got it this +morning. I don’t know what you told them, but from what I gather, you +merely asked to have a meeting called. Well, I’ve got a ticket and +Pullman reservation to California” (he dug into his pocket, brought +forth the tickets and swung them lightly in front of him). “I’m going +straight to Hollywood. Made arrangements at that end by wire. I’m +taking a train in about an hour, at the Penn station. As your idea +seemed to be to get rid of me, I take it you’ll be satisfied with the +little plan I’ve made.” His smile at Corinne was sardonic. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment she was at loose ends. She threw a worried glance at +Margot. +</p> + +<p> +“You <i>did</i> tell him you wouldn’t do anything to him if he’d get out, +but what in God’s name will I tell the directors, not to speak of +Klein and the president, Joseph Livingstone.” +</p> + +<p> +“You can tell ’em anything you please!” Stoner spoke with sudden +fierceness. “Spill <i>all</i> the beans, for all I care! They won’t be able +to get hold of me. Margot said she’d see that the matter’d be dropped +if I’d admit to the directors that what she says is true, and leave +the company. What’s the use taking the president into your sweet +confidence,” his thick lips curled bitterly, “if it’s on the books +that he won’t punish me? I’m going anyway, in five minutes, and nobody +can stop me that I know of.” +</p> + +<p> +“I agree with Mr. Stoner,” Margot said quietly. “Let him go as he +plans to. Call off the meeting. They’ll just think your temperament’s +working over-time.” She gave Corinne a friendly little smile. +</p> + +<p> +Deep puckers filled the space between Corinne’s two, rather lovely, +green eyes. Her mouth drew into a straight line, and she took a few +nervous puffs at her cigarette. Then, surprisingly, the expression of +anxious uncertainty changed to a sparkling of the eye, and a smile of +almost childish satisfaction. She threw away her cigarette with a +gesture as of having more vital matters to deal with. +</p> + +<p> +“I know <i>just</i> what I’ll say to the president and directors! It’s come +to me like a flash!” +</p> + +<p> +Stoner studied her with dislike in his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t try to spring anything that’ll mean the breaking of Miss +Anstruther’s word to me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, <i>you</i>!” Contempt unspeakable in Corinne’s face and voice. “I +wasn’t even <i>thinking</i> of you that minute!” +</p> + +<p> +Blank amazement in Stoner’s face and on Margot’s. Then Stoner said, +addressing Margot: +</p> + +<p> +“I guess that’s about all. As for you, Miss Anstruther, I believe +you’ll do exactly what you said you would—give me a chance to get +out, and drop the case against me. You’re too clever to be anything +but square.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him thoughtfully. His remarks about Gene had obviously +been inspired by jealous malice, and she was inclined to agree with +Corinne that he had lied, although it seemed like rather a silly and +superfluous lie. Well—time for Gene later. No use getting upset by +anything Stoner said. So far as leaving without springing any new +tricks on them was concerned, she decided that he was acting in good +faith. Better let him go and drop everything, although what Corinne +suddenly felt inspired to tell the directors she couldn’t imagine. She +addressed Stoner quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“All right, Mr. Stoner. You can count on my word. Hollywood is a +comfortably long ways off. You’re wise in going there. But I’d like to +ask you to tell me something before you go. Two questions. First, how +did you first get in touch with Murchison? I’d like to know.” +</p> + +<p> +Stoner hesitated, then said slowly: “Might as well tell you. He came +to me a year ago, with some stones he wanted to sell. Heard I was +staging a costume play, and offered me a ruby for such a nominal sum +that it made me suspicious at once. I didn’t want anything to do with +stolen goods, and told him so, flat. He pulled a long, sad face, and a +long, unconvincing story. Said a rich friend had died and left him the +stones. Then he told me he was employed at the Fellowe Institute, and +said I could call up and verify that fact. I told him I’d do that and +then get in touch with him if I wanted to buy anything from him. So I +called up the Institute, found he was employed there all right—their +description of the old duck tallied with mine. But somehow that didn’t +convince me that he hadn’t stolen those stones. It sounded phony and +what he asked for them was ridiculous. Why, any jeweler would have +given four times as much and I told him so. He said he didn’t want to +bother with jewelers. So I dropped the matter.” +</p> + +<p> +Stoner stopped to light a cigarette, and Margot said quickly: +</p> + +<p> +“And when you read in the papers about the theft of the radium you +remembered Murchison, and you had a hunch he’d taken it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Right. But Murchison came to my mind in connection with radium, only +because I got stumped trying to make a realistic scene in that picture +of mine, <i>The Masque of Life</i>. So I looked him up, and at first he +denied all knowledge of the radium. But I offered such a whacking +price for it—I thought at first I wanted to buy, but decided that +would be too dangerous, it was a veritable king’s ransom in +radium—that he weakened and admitted that he had it. The rest I guess +you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Second question, Mr. Stoner. What makes you suppose that you won’t be +brought back here from California, when Murchison’s trial takes place, +about six weeks from now? Are you so sure he won’t peach on you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Dead sure!” Stoner spoke with conviction. “I’ll tell you why. I +arranged with Murchison in the beginning, that if anything happened +about the radium and he got caught, if he’d agree to keep me out of +it—never mention my name to a soul—I’d put ten thousand in the bank +for him. And I’ll do just that. In fact it’s done. I made all +arrangements the day after he was arrested. The minute the trial’s +over, if he’s kept his mouth shut, he’ll get notice that the money’s +in the bank in his name. If he squeals, he’ll get nothing, and it +won’t do <i>him</i> any good to drag me into it. No matter what they could +do to me, it wouldn’t go easier with him for having dragged me into +it. <i>He</i> stole the radium. I had nothing to do with that. He’ll go up +for that anyway, and a wad in the bank at his convenience, when he +gets out of jail, won’t be anything to sneeze at. So <i>that’s</i> why I’m +so sure I won’t be dragged back from Hollywood—that is, if <i>you</i> play +the game as I believe you will, Miss Anstruther.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll play it just that way,” she said quietly. “Good-by, Mr. Stoner. +I advise your sticking to romance in the pictures you direct. It won’t +require the assistance of science to aid realism.” The smile she gave +him, although conveying a mocking taunt, was not unfriendly. He struck +her suddenly as so much more a fool than a knave, even in his +childishly malicious gossip about Gene. +</p> + +<p> +Abruptly he stuck out his large hand. “Will you shake on it, Miss +Anstruther, just to show there’s no hard feeling?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly!” She gave him her hand and he shook it with a great show +of sexless cordiality. That was for Corinne’s benefit. +</p> + +<p> +He turned to go, without so much as a glance at Corinne. She said +sharply: +</p> + +<p> +“You’re darn lucky you have to deal with a girl as square as Margot +Anstruther. Even if I wanted to play you a mean trick, she wouldn’t +let me do it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t need to remind me,” he said, with an ugly look at the star, +“that you’d play me a dirty trick if you dared. But <i>she’ll</i> see to +that!” And the next instant the door closed behind him. +</p> + +<p> +“Dirty dog!” It was Corinne’s irrepressible but final disposal of the +man for whom her love had turned to hate. +</p> + +<p> +Margot, with her unquenchable sense of humor, said, with a smile she +tried to keep from spreading into a roguish grin: +</p> + +<p> +“That gives you the last word. Now forget him! He’s really occupied +more time and space in my young life than he’s worth, except that he’s +furnished me with considerable amusement, first and last.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I don’t see it—the amusement part. But, as you say, forget +him! Only there’s one little matter I’m not quite through with, that +is about Lulu Leinster. I signed her up last week, for a part in my +new picture. She may have played me a nasty trick, but I doubt it. I +believe Stoner sprung that stuff about her going out to the coast, +just to spite you, because you’d cornered him. I’m pretty sure it’s a +lie, and I’m dead sure the part about seeing her with Gene <i>was</i> a +lie.” +</p> + +<p> +Margot moved restlessly. “That’s of no importance, is it, but it is +important whether she’s broken her contract with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll soon find out. I’ll send for her to come here.” +</p> + +<p> +Corinne summoned her maid and directed that she request Miss Leinster +to meet Miss Delamar in her dressing-room within a half hour. +</p> + +<p> +“And now for the board meeting,” she said cheerfully, rising. “We’re +late, of course, but they’ll wait. Just watch them jump to their big +flat feet, and bow and scrape as if I’d done them an honor by keeping +them waiting.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, Miss Delamar,” Margot hung back, “whatever your business is with +the directors, you won’t need <i>me</i> now.” +</p> + +<p> +“I most certainly will!” Corinne put her hand on Margot’s arm, and +pushed her toward the door. “Now, more than before, if you only knew!” +And then she laughed into Margot’s questioning eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“But—I don’t understand. You’re going to drop the case of Stoner +altogether, you said?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am! But I didn’t say I was going to drop <i>your</i> case, did I?” +</p> + +<p> +Margot was puzzled. She didn’t know Corinne well, after all. What on +earth was she driving at? However, she, Margot, had nothing to +conceal—except for the sake of her promise to Stoner—and her +curiosity was aroused. Also she wasn’t a quitter. If Corinne wanted +her to go with her to that board meeting, why she’d go! +</p> + +<p> +“You won’t tell me why you want me to go with you,” she temporized +once more. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll find out quick enough. Come on, please, Miss Anstruther! Have +a heart and don’t let us keep the poor things waiting any longer!” +</p> + +<p> +So they hurried—until they reached the door of the board room. Then +Corinne put on her most nonchalant manner, and walked into the room as +if royalty itself had arrived with, as it were, a blowing of silver +trumpets and a tinkling of silver bells. Even Margot was impressed, +not by the star’s importance, but by the way she got away with it. +Every man in the room rose to his feet, bowing obsequiously, with +broad and admiring smiles centered on Corinne. A few glances wavered +in Margot’s direction, and all eyes were focussed on her, as their +star, with a little wave of her hand in Margot’s direction, said very +sweetly: +</p> + +<p> +“Some of you have had the pleasure of meeting Miss Anstruther, some of +you haven’t, but of course you’ve <i>all</i> heard about her fine work as +<i>Conchita</i>, in <i>A Toreador’s Love</i>!” +</p> + +<p> +The men bowed to Margot, who gave to each of them a frank, personal +smile of acknowledgment, and a slight inclination of her head. +Corinne, without another glance at anyone, sat herself on the chair +put forward for her, crossed her knees, and beckoned to Margot to sit +beside her. It really was amusing, this stardom! If Corinne hadn’t +acquired the status of star, even her talent—and she had +talent—would not have commanded any particular respect from these +men, accustomed as they were to rather cavalier methods with the girls +in their employ. But Corinne was not only a good little actress; she +had her own increasing number of fans, and she was an asset to the +Superfilm Company. Margot felt that it was a definite accomplishment, +and she looked at Corinne with new respect. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Miss Delamar, you wished to have a meeting called to transact +some important business. But first let me tell you that Frederick +Stoner has run out on us. His resignation reached us this morning.” +</p> + +<p> +Joseph Livingstone’s small eyes focussed on Corinne. Margot, +accustomed to reading human eyes, and finding it easy in so heavy a +countenance as that of Livingstone, understood that he was wondering +if a love-quarrel between the star and the director were the cause of +his sudden resignation. +</p> + +<p> +Corinne turned upon the president a wide, innocent gaze of such +complete astonishment—such convincing surprise—that Margot bit her +lip, and looked quickly down at her lap. It would be awful if she were +to giggle or even smile in the august presence, and at that particular +moment. Corinne appeared far too amazed for speech. Joseph +Livingstone, apparently afraid of some temperamental outburst, said +hurriedly: +</p> + +<p> +“Of course we’ll go on just the same. We’ve got plenty of good +directors. And now, Miss Delamar, what can I do for you?” +</p> + +<p> +Corinne’s expression changed to frank and disarming friendliness. She +said sweetly: +</p> + +<p> +“By doing what I ask, Mr. Livingstone, you will be doing something for +your company. I haven’t come here to ask a favor for myself. First, I +wish to call your attention to the marked talent Miss Anstruther has +shown in her work with us. You will agree with me, I’m sure?” +</p> + +<p> +Margot looked at Corinne with an amazement which she had difficulty in +disguising. Joseph Livingstone rubbed his beringed hands, and said: +</p> + +<p> +“I certainly agree with you, Miss Delamar. The young lady shows +decided promise. We think she has considerable talent.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Mr. President,” Corinne smiled directly at him. “I now want to +call your attention to another important point. Miss Anstruther has +acquired, in the last few days, much publicity, of a kind that does an +actress a lot of good with the public. This publicity will be +invaluable, not only to her, but to me and to the whole company. Do +you understand, Mr. Livingstone?” +</p> + +<p> +“I get your point.” Livingstone’s eyes looked suddenly more alive. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sure you do,” Corinne said warmly. “And I’m sure you’ll <i>all</i> +agree with my suggestion that you star Miss Anstruther, just as soon +as <i>A Toreador’s Love</i> is finished!” She threw bright, eager glances +around the room. +</p> + +<p> +Margot stared at Corinne in a surprise so intense that she forgot to +disguise it, but all eyes were fixed on the star. +</p> + +<p> +“But,” gasped Joseph Livingstone, “I was thinking—we all +thought—that you and this young lady were not good friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“How funny!” Corinne’s smile was genius—pure and simple genius, +Margot decided. “We’re the very <i>best</i> of friends, and I admire Miss +Anstruther so much that I made up my mind to have a frank talk with +you, and try to make <i>you</i> see what <i>I</i> see so clearly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, well, you take me by surprise, Miss Delamar. But, after all, +why not? Only we’ll have to find a picture for her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that’s easy!” Corinne threw her beaming smile once more around +the room, then let it rest on Margot. “The title of the picture will +be <i>The Haunting Hand</i>, and the story will be the mystery of the arm, +and the strange lights in her room. It will make a <i>wonderful</i> +picture!” +</p> + +<p> +“Fine! Fine!” The President again rubbed his white, short-fingered, +carefully manicured hands. +</p> + +<p> +There were murmurs of approval, and glances of admiration bestowed on +Margot, who sat without a word, far too overcome with genuine +gratitude to Corinne for any casual acceptance of her kindness and +generosity. A few more remarks, a few more smiles and bows, and the +two girls left the board room. Outside they stood still and looked at +each other. Margot put out her hand and gripped Corinne’s. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know why you did it, but you’re a little brick and I’m +honestly so grateful that I haven’t words to tell you how I feel about +it, Miss Delamar!” +</p> + +<p> +Corinne returned the pressure of Margot’s fingers, then she said +slowly: +</p> + +<p> +“Well, to be honest, I do like you immensely, and I admire you and +your work. You’ve got real talent. But I suppose—and an honest +confession is good for the soul—I suppose that I’m so darn glad you +put it all over Stoner, and opened my eyes for fair, regarding his +conduct in general, that I felt there wasn’t anything too much I could +find to do for you. That’s the God’s truth about it!” +</p> + +<p> +And Margot knew that it was, looking into those strange green eyes +with their yellow lights. +</p> + +<p> +In Corinne’s dressing-room they found Lulu Leinster smoking a +cigarette, stretched at ease in the one comfortable chair. She rose +languidly and smiled greetings to the star and to Margot. +</p> + +<p> +Without preamble Corinne went to the point. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you going out to the coast engaged by Stoner?” +</p> + +<p> +The utter amazement in Lulu’s large blue eyes was sufficient reply to +Corinne’s question, without the astonished “No!” that followed. +</p> + +<p> +Corinne flashed a look at Margot, then she said: +</p> + +<p> +“He told me he’d signed you up to go out there. I was sure you +wouldn’t play me such a trick, but I thought I’d put it right up to +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, he must be a terrible liar, Miss Delamar, to say such a thing. +He <i>asked</i> me to go out there and offered me something good if I’d go, +but I told him I’d signed up with you and that I’d rather stay here +with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good child!” Corinne patted her hand. “As he’s such a picturesque +liar, I dare say he lied when he told us he’d seen you and Gene Valery +in a night club last night—or rather early this morning.” Corinne’s +inflection seemed to state a fact rather than ask a question. +</p> + +<p> +Lulu’s fair skin grew slowly pink and she made a nervous pretense of +flicking the ashes from her cigarette. Without raising her eyes she +said a little unevenly: +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Stoner did see me last night with Gene Valery.” +</p> + +<p> +Margot’s pulse beat suddenly very fast, but her eyes and mouth were +under control when Corinne’s astonished gaze flew to her, in +embarrassed uncertainty. +</p> + +<p> +“Well——” The exclamation came from Corinne in a gasp of annoyance at +being put in a false position. “That’s funny! Since when have you and +Gene Valery been such friends?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, we’re <i>all</i> good friends,” Margot broke in eagerly, “aren’t we, +Lulu?” +</p> + +<p> +Lulu gave her a sidelong glance, then she said laconically: +</p> + +<p> +“Sure thing.” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t know,” persisted Corinne with a frown, “that you and Gene +were <i>particular</i> friends.” +</p> + +<p> +Lulu said nothing for a second, then she threw Margot an enigmatic +little smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose you ask Gene what sort of ‘particular’ friends we are, +Margot. I’m sure he’ll tell you. Well——” she turned to the star, “if +that’s all you want of me, Miss Delamar, guess I’ll run along.” +</p> + +<p> +Margot gave her an unusually bright smile, but Corinne said rather +crossly: +</p> + +<p> +“Run along, by all means.” +</p> + +<p> +After Lulu had gone, Corinne threw herself into the easy chair, +lighted a cigarette, and asked Margot to sit down. +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks, but I’ll have to be running along myself. I can’t tell you, +Miss Delamar, how I appreciate your interest in me. You’re really +awfully good to me.” The look in her eyes conveyed to Corinne the fact +that her loyalty to Margot in the matter of Gene and Lulu had not been +wasted. +</p> + +<p> +“See here, my dear.” Corinne spoke slowly between puffs on her +cigarette. “I wouldn’t, if I were you, pay any attention to that +‘tripe’—to borrow one of Stoner’s pet vulgarities—about Gene and +Lulu. If he was with that little mutton-head last night, there was +some good reason for it, which he’ll tell you quick enough. Don’t take +it seriously.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why should I!” Margot laughed, with a gaiety that did not deceive +Corinne. Then she said good-by and departed. +</p> + +<p> +On her way to the train she deliberated whether or not to take any +initiative where Gene was concerned. The suspicion had come to her, +that he was angry and hurt, far more seriously than she had imagined +possible—that is, assuming that he was sincere in his protests of +love for her. A faint doubt on this point pricked her consciousness +with uneasy reminders of Lulu’s enigmatic smile. Could it be possible +that Gene was like the majority of men! +</p> + +<p> +At last Margot faced the unpleasant conviction that she was miserable +at the very idea of Gene’s insincerity being a possible factor in the +situation. She shrank from acknowledging to herself that she felt +jealousy of Lulu Leinster, for jealousy is an admission of +inferiority. But it actually came to that, if she were to be honest +with herself. She <i>was</i> jealous—horribly jealous—and miserable as +she had never supposed she could be over a man. +</p> + +<p> +Well—she’d been rather silly, playing a waiting game with Gene, and +pretending not to take him seriously, and it was up to her to give him +the benefit of the doubt. She’d send for him and ask him frankly about +Lulu. If, in so doing, she would run a risk of showing Gene how much +she really loved him, surely it was worth the risk. She sent him a +telegram from Astoria to come and take her out to dinner, then she +hurried back to town. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch17"> +CHAPTER XVII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">“BETTER THAN BROTHERLY!”</span> +</h3> + +<p> +<span class="sc">The</span> door of Margot’s room shut out the rest of the world, and she +and Gene stood looking at each other. +</p> + +<p> +He had come at her bidding, a little reluctantly it had seemed to her, +but she had greeted him with gay insouciance and had delicately +skirted the edge of personalities during the dinner hour. +</p> + +<p> +She had told him of the encounter with Stoner the preceding day; of +his unexpected appearance that morning, and his frank avowal of guilt; +of Corinne’s amazing attitude toward herself, and of the final outcome +so far as the president and directors were concerned. She had actually +made him laugh with her humorous treatment of events and the persons +motivating them. She had caught a quick frown at her description of +Stoner’s friendly parting with her in Corinne’s dressing-room, and her +heart had beaten a little faster. Why should Gene frown at mention of +Stoner unless he were actually in love with her? +</p> + +<p> +It was all told, and as they stood facing each other, behind her +closed door, there was nothing between her and Gene except mutual +doubt and suspicion. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” she began lightly, sparring for time, “I hope I didn’t butt +into any of your plans for this evening by sending for you, Gene.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is that supposed to be funny?” he said sternly, looking at her with +unhappy eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“ ‘Funny!’ ” She gave a nervous laugh. “Why, no. I’m quite serious. Come +on, let’s sit down. I hate talking standing up.” +</p> + +<p> +She moved to the divan and he took a chair a few feet away and sat +down a little stiffly, Margot thought. +</p> + +<p> +She saw that he was not going to help her out, and with sudden +irritation she said abruptly: +</p> + +<p> +“I thought <i>possibly</i> you might have an engagement for to-night with +Lulu Leinster.” +</p> + +<p> +He bent forward and looked at her intently. +</p> + +<p> +“So—that big stiff, that cad, told you he saw us last night.” +</p> + +<p> +“He mentioned it—casually.” Margot tapped the end of an unlighted +cigarette with elaborate unconcern. Then she flashed him a sudden +glance of assumed surprise. “Why was it such a horrible faux-pas for +him to have mentioned it?” +</p> + +<p> +“You know that wasn’t what I meant,” Gene said quietly. “Some other +man might have mentioned a thing like that—‘casually,’ as you call +it—but not Stoner. He had some mean motive or he wouldn’t have +bothered to talk about us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well—perhaps,” Margot conceded slowly. “However, the interesting +fact is that you <i>were</i> with Lulu last night. You see, Stoner told us +that Lulu was going out with him, or after him, to the coast, and it +seems that Corinne had signed her up for her next picture, so she was +sure Stoner had lied. She sent for Lulu and questioned her, and to my +annoyance asked her if it were true that Stoner had seen you two +together last night. Lulu said it was. So that was that. I’m just +amused, you know, for I hadn’t supposed you cared enough for the +little prize beauty to spend an hour with her, voluntarily.” +</p> + +<p> +“You know damn well I don’t.” Gene’s unexpected violence was rather +startling. He stared at her with somber eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Then what, may I ask, just in passing, happened to bring about the +little party last night?” +</p> + +<p> +“See here, Margot, I don’t know that you have the right to question +me, considering your <i>sisterly</i> interest in me, but I’ll tell you what +there is to tell, because I’m fool enough to care tremendously what +you think of me, regardless of loving me.” +</p> + +<p> +Margot lowered her eyes quickly. She was afraid of what Gene might +read in them, and she wasn’t quite ready for her own confession. +</p> + +<p> +“When I left you, night before last, I made up my mind that I couldn’t +stand your little cat-and-mouse game any longer. Something rose up in +me against your treatment of me. I couldn’t stand it any longer,” he +repeated himself helplessly. “It seemed to be clear enough that you +didn’t and never would care for me as I wanted you to. I was pretty +miserable. Last evening I happened to run into Lulu on Broadway. It +struck me she wasn’t looking very cheerful herself. On a sudden +impulse I asked her to spend the evening somewhere with me. She +agreed. I admit, frankly, I tried desperately hard to work up a +flirtation with her. She realized just what an effort I was making and +she laughed at me. Finally she got me started about you and I spilled +over, told her everything and she gave me the sympathy I needed. +That’s all there was to it, Margot.” +</p> + +<p> +She studied him for a moment, then she said gently: +</p> + +<p> +“Are you sure that’s all there was to it, on her side?” +</p> + +<p> +Gene gave a sudden laugh. “<i>Ask</i> her,” he said briefly. “Why, she’s so +in love with some nut in the company, who’s got a wife and three kids, +that she can’t <i>see</i> any other man. I gave a little good advice and I +believe it got under her skin. Hope so, anyway.” +</p> + +<p> +With her heart beating faster and her eyes glowing with excitement, +Margot tried to speak calmly. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you remember my saying that after disposing of Stoner and my +mystery, there was something else of importance I had to attend to?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I remember,” he said, frowning at her. “Something of vital +importance, before you could pay any attention to <i>me</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +She smiled at him, mockery on her lips, tender challenge in her deep +gray eyes. He got up quickly and stood looking down at her, where she +lay against the cushions. +</p> + +<p> +“For God’s sake, Margot, stop playing with me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Silly, silly old thing!” she said softly. “It never remotely occurred +to you that the ‘important’ thing I hinted at so mysteriously +was—well, my dear, just—you and me.” +</p> + +<p> +He threw himself beside her and leaned over her, speaking fiercely. +</p> + +<p> +“You said you’d let me kiss you as a <i>brother</i>, and for the last time. +What the devil did you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“I meant—that the next time you kissed me, I’d want it to be as—my +lover. Then you became a caveman, and—and I <i>liked</i> it, but you +banged out of the room without waiting to find out.” +</p> + +<p> +He stared at her a second, then he gave a low cry and seized her in +his arms. He kissed her, eyes and throat and mouth, in an ecstasy of +joy and of passion long restrained. +</p> + +<p> +“Darling—darling! I never dreamed—I was afraid even to hope. I love +you so, Margot, I adore you.” +</p> + +<p> +Between his kisses she managed to tell him that she had known beyond +all possibility of doubt, just how deeply she loved him, when he had +given way to his emotions, in that very room two nights before, and +had kissed her as no man had ever kissed her before and as, she could +assure him, no <i>other</i> man would ever kiss her. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t have to kiss you to know what I felt for you.” He studied +her face with rapturous intentness. “Women are funny. A man wants to +kiss a woman <i>because</i> he loves her, or rather <i>if</i> he loves her, and +a woman loves a man because he kisses her.” +</p> + +<p> +Margot laughed. “Not quite that, dear. Stoner didn’t arouse my passion +by kissing me.” +</p> + +<p> +Gene drew her closer with a sudden access of possessive jealousy. +</p> + +<p> +“Damn Stoner. Don’t remind me that he ever touched you.” +</p> + +<p> +“That reminds me,” she said softly. “Another awakening I had in regard +to my love for you, Gene, was when I suddenly realized I was miserably +jealous of Lulu. Then I <i>knew</i>, even better than I did after your +caveman exhibition, how much I loved you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m terribly flattered, darling, but it does strike me as grotesque, +being jealous of that girl. However, I’m mighty glad I ran into her +the other night, if it made you a little surer of your love for me.” +</p> + +<p> +The first hour of love’s abandonment to the joy and thrill of mutual +understanding, made the blood tingle in Margot’s cheeks, and her lips +were tremulous and moist with the first tempest of emotion she had +ever experienced. At last she drew a little out of her lover’s arms +and studied his eager, sensitive face. Suddenly a smile drew up the +corners of her mouth, and she put soft fingers against his lips. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll believe anything, anything at all you tell me, about adoring me +and how beautiful I am, but don’t you dare ever tell me again that I +could never grow old or ugly in your eyes.” +</p> + +<p> +He laughed and pressed his lips against her hair. +</p> + +<p> +“But it’s the truth. Perhaps we’ll both live long enough for me to +prove it to you, sweetheart.” +</p> + +<p> +“And there’s just one other thing I’d rather not have you say, Gene. +Tell me you love me, as often as you like, but never say you’ll +<i>always</i> love me. Men are always telling women that, and how can +anyone promise such a thing! Live it, Gene—by all means <i>live</i> +it—but don’t <i>say</i> it. It might spoil our luck.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fat chance,” he said, with more eloquence of tone than of language. +</p> + +<p> +“By the way, Gene.” She gave him one of her brilliant roguish smiles. +“It’ll be rather nice, after we’re married—I won’t have to call you +by phone if I should get scared by a spook.” +</p> + +<p> +“You little devil!” He gave her a quick hug. “You whimsical darling!” +</p> + +<p> +“ ‘Whimsical,’ ” she repeated softly. “That’s rather nice. You never +called me that before.” +</p> + +<p> +“Haven’t I? Well, I’ve often thought it. It describes you better than +anything else. It’s the thing about you that will never let you grow +old or ugly. I <i>will</i> say it, for it’s true. It’s the thing so few +women possess, and that charms and holds a man longer than beauty or +wit or even,” he added with a laugh, “a good disposition, and God +knows that’s important enough.” +</p> + +<p> +“Here, here! I guess, after all, if that’s the way you feel about it, +I’ll let you say—just this once—that you’ll love me forever and +ever.” +</p> + +<p> +And Gene’s reply, swift and silent, far better than a brotherly kiss, +was more eloquent than any words could have been. +</p> + +<p class="center mt1"> +[The End] +</p> + + +<h2> +TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES +</h2> + +<p> +Minor spelling inconsistencies (e.g. caveman/cave-man, dressing +room/dressing-room, etc.) have been preserved. +</p> + +<p class="noindent mt1"> +<b>Alterations to the text</b>: +</p> + +<p> +Fix one quotation mark pairing. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter VII] +</p> + +<p> +Change “The headlines of the early <i>editon</i> greeted her” to <i>edition</i>. +</p> + +<p class="center mt1"> +[End of text] +</p> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78094 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/78094-h/images/cover.jpg b/78094-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1bde9d5 --- /dev/null +++ b/78094-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/78094-h/images/img_fp.jpg b/78094-h/images/img_fp.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e5d45c8 --- /dev/null +++ b/78094-h/images/img_fp.jpg diff --git a/78094-h/images/img_fp_th.jpg b/78094-h/images/img_fp_th.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f637aca --- /dev/null +++ b/78094-h/images/img_fp_th.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c72794 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This book, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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