He would end by planting something that would make Honora fearful for Shattuck, as well as for herself. The effect would be to bring to light her suppressed desires, to make the Freudian theory play detective for us. And then? Almost anything might happen.
Looked at in this light, I could see that Craig would have done a very profitable day's work. It was, in short, merely playing one against the other—first Lathrop against Vina; now Honora against Shattuck.
We rode back again up-town and prepared to make our daily excuse for visiting Mrs. Wilford. In spite of the distastefulness of our duty, I felt sure that still our position with her was superior to that of the other inquisitors who were always on her trail.
"Before we go in," cautioned Kennedy, as we entered the main entrance to the apartment, "I want to see McCabe. He must be back on the job by this time."
[248]
Careful to cover ourselves, we sought out the ostensibly empty apartment which Doyle had hired as a dictagraph room. McCabe was there and seemed to be glad to see us. Evidently he had some news to report.
"What's on your mind, McCabe?" greeted Kennedy.
"Why, sir, he's been calling her up again."
"Who?"
"Mr. Shattuck, I mean."
Kennedy merely glanced at me. The virus had begun to work.
"What did he say?" asked Kennedy, quickly.
"I couldn't just make out what it was about. He wasn't very definite. Said he wanted to see her alone."
"And Mrs. Wilford?"
"Said she couldn't—that she was afraid—afraid for him, she said. I guess she knows pretty well how we're watching her."
"What did Shattuck say to that?"
"Well, I should say he was trying to warn her," replied McCabe, "without coming out too definitely. You see, they were both pretty careful in the words they used. There's something strange between that pair, you can be sure of that."
"What were the exact words?" asked Kennedy. "Did you get them down?"
McCabe nodded and referred to his notes.
"When Mr. Shattuck called up, he asked her first, 'I suppose they're watching you yet, Honora?'
[249]
"'Oh, Vance,' she answered, 'it gets worse every day.'
"There's some more—and then he suddenly said, 'Honora, Kennedy has just been here to see me again.'
"She seemed to be rather alarmed at that news. 'To see you again, Vance? What about?'
"'I don't know what he's up to,' Shattuck replied. 'I wish I did. It's something about that poisoned bean—you know, the thing they've been talking about.'"
"Pretending ignorance!" I exclaimed. "He knows. Go on."
"They talked about that a little while, without saying anything important. The next was Honora: 'He keeps asking me all sorts of questions about dreams and trying psychological experiments. I don't dare refuse to answer. But what do you suppose it is all about, Vance?'"
"What did Shattuck tell her?" asked Kennedy, interested.
"Here, I'll read it, exactly. 'More of that Freud stuff, I guess, Honora, from what you've already told me. That may go all very well in a book—or in Greenwich Village. But it's a fake, I tell you. Don't believe it—too much.'"
"That's a remarkably1 reassuring2 statement," commented Kennedy. "Don't believe it—and then he takes it all back by adding, 'too much.'"
"Yes, sir," agreed McCabe, to whom this angle of the case was a mystery. "I don't know as he believed [250] what he said himself. You see, he next asked her: 'Can't you see me? I must try to help you.' And he meant it, too."
"Did she say she would?" hastened Kennedy.
"Not directly. 'Vance, I'm so afraid—afraid to drag you into this thing. You know they're watching me so closely. I don't see them around—yet they seem to know so much.'"
"You don't suppose she suspects anything of this?" I interrupted, indicating the dictagraph and the tapped telephone.
"Hardly," answered McCabe. "She wouldn't talk at all over the wire, if she did, would she? Here's how it ended. Shattuck said, finally, 'Well, I'm going to see you very soon, anyhow, to have a heart-to-heart talk, Honora.' He seemed to be quite worried. And so did she over him."
"Have you told Doyle anything about it?" asked Craig.
"Haven't had a chance yet. It just happened."
Kennedy turned to go.
"Oh, just before that that detective called her up, too."
"Which one—Rascon or Chase?"
"Chase."
Kennedy smiled quietly. Everything was working.
"What of him?"
"He said you had been to see him. There was something about that poisonous bean he told her."
[251]
"Did he mention Shattuck's name?" asked Kennedy.
"Yes, he questioned her about Shattuck—about his travels—I thought it was pretty broadly hinting after he mentioned that Calabar bean."
"But did he say anything definite about it? I mean, anything connecting it with Shattuck?"
"No—nothing definite."
Evidently Chase had never told Honora of his discovery in Shattuck's apartments. Why? Was it because he was sure that she would not believe it? Was he waiting for more conclusive3 evidence? What was the reason? It had not been revealed even yet.
We thanked McCabe, made our exit, and arrived on Honora's floor in such a way that it would not be suspected that we had been anywhere else in the building.
As we met Mrs. Wilford, I cannot say that we were quite as welcome as on some previous encounters with her. It seemed that she was repressing her excitement not quite as easily as on previous occasions.
Yet she seemed not to dare to refuse to see us. Perhaps, too, there was an element of curiosity to know whether anything had been discovered beyond what Doyle had already told her.
If that were the case, she had not long to wait. Kennedy did not plan this time to keep her in suspense4 long.
In fact, it seemed as if it were part of his plan [252] to fire the information he wished to impart as a broadside and watch the effect, both immediate5 and ultimate.
"I suppose you have read in the newspapers about the troubles of the Lathrops and what has happened?" he opened fire.
"Nothing about that woman interests me," Honora returned, coldly.
"That's not exactly what I came to tell you, though," remarked Kennedy, briskly.
Honora was on the alert in an instant, although she tried to hide it.
"I've discovered just what it was that caused the death of your husband," hastened Craig.
I watched her closely. She was trying to show just enough and not too much interest.
"Indeed?" she replied, veiling her eyes as a matter of self-defense6. "Was it belladonna?"
"No, it was not atropin," returned Craig, giving the drug its more scientific name. "It was physostigmine."
I was watching her narrowly. Evidently she had been expecting some repetition of the psychological tests and Kennedy's more direct attack almost swept away a defense as she tried to adjust herself to the unexpected.
Before she could recover from the shock that the bald statement seemed to give her, Craig shot out, "Has Doyle told you?"
"Yes," she replied, endeavoring to remain calm and at the same time appear frank, "something [253] about a bean which either you or Mr. Jameson discovered down in the office."
"Then why did you mention belladonna?" asked Craig.
She avoided his gaze as she answered, quickly, "Because it was the first thing that the police mentioned—the first thing that came into my head—like some of your psychological tests, I suppose."
The last sentence was uttered with a sort of sarcastic7 defiance8 which I did not relish9 in Honora.
"So," she continued in the same defiant10 tone, "it's another poison, this time—this physostigmine?"
"Yes," reiterated11 Kennedy, quietly. "The Calabar bean. I suppose Doyle described it to you—its devilish uses in the Calabar—the way the natives use it in ordeals—and all that sort of thing?"
"Yes—briefly," she replied, evidently steeling herself into a nonchalance12 she did not feel.
"Of course, the drug has a certain medical importance, too," continued Craig, as though eager to hammer home the information about it which he wished to have stick in her mind. "It is physostigmine."
Honora was evidently about to ask some question about the drug, perhaps such a question as would have portrayed13 ignorance, but Kennedy caught her eye and she closed her parted lips. There was no use camouflaging14 before this man. She knew it—knew the drug, I decided15, and knew he knew she knew of it.
[254]
"But it wasn't the drug, physostigmine, in this case," went on Kennedy. "It was the Calabar bean itself. I found traces of it in Mr. Wilford's stomach—starch16 grains from the beans themselves. You know you can recognize various starch grains under the microscope by their size, formation, and so forth17. I've clearly demonstrated that."
"You did? Why—I—I—er—thought that was Doctor Leslie's work."
Evidently she did not realize that Kennedy was anything more than a dilettante18 scientist, dabbling19 with his psychological tests.
Kennedy was now coming into the open more and more with her and she could not place him. On her part she saw that she must be more and more on guard, yet with fewer weapons on which to rely.
"Oh no," returned Kennedy, easily. "I mix up in all sorts of queer investigations20. Toxicology is a hobby with me. Doctor Leslie did indeed confirm my results, working independently."
He paused to let her get the full significance.
"But about these beans. They come from Africa, you know. Travelers, people who have hunted over Africa, often bring them back as curios."
Honora shot a covert21 glance at Craig. Did she know that Shattuck had possessed22 some, after all?
I saw at once the trend of Kennedy's remarks. There was quite enough in what he had said to arouse in her the fear that Shattuck was suspected by him.
And, as I studied Honora even more closely, I [255] could see now that she was making a great effort to conceal23 her anxiety.
If the anxiety concerned solely24 herself, I could have understood it better, perhaps.
But was it about herself? Would she have acted in just this manner if it had been that she believed Kennedy to be making a direct accusation25 against her?
I could not decide. But, as I thought of it, I saw how cleverly Kennedy was leading his trumps26.
If she were consumed with anxiety for Shattuck, the traveler in Africa, she must be heroically suppressing her own real feelings toward him, as she had done for so long.
I felt sure that the added pressure, day by day, was having its effect on her.
"I suppose you know," pursued Kennedy, deliberately27, without letting up on the pressure, "that traces of belladonna were found in one glass on Mr. Wilford's desk at the office and that an almost empty bottle of belladonna was found by the police here in your apartment?"
"It was mine," she asserted, calmly, as though prepared. "It had been nearly used up. Celeste knows all about how I used it for my eyes. Many women do. She can tell you that."
She said it boldly, and yet, since Kennedy had mentioned the Calabar bean, I had an indefinable feeling that Honora was concealing28 something—perhaps not only a fact—but also a great fear.
No longer, now, did Kennedy seem to care [256] whether he antagonized her or not. More and more, it seemed, it was his purpose to drop the mask with her, to fight her with other weapons than those psychological.
"Both physostigmine and belladonna are used by oculists, you know," hinted Kennedy, broadly.
The face of Honora was a study as she listened to this direct insinuation. She bit her lips at the thought that she had betrayed her knowledge of the use of belladonna.
For an instant Honora gazed at Kennedy, startled at the penetrating29 power of his eyes, as she realized that the finding of the bean had, in his mind, perhaps, some connection with herself.
What must have been the conflicting emotions in her mind as, now, for the first time, she realized that Kennedy had gone deeper into the case than Doyle or Leslie, that, while she might be a match for them, she could not possibly hope to be a match against the new weapons of science that Kennedy had brought to bear? Even though she might not fully30 appreciate them, Honora was too clever a woman not to know, merely by intuition, that she was faced with a battle in which the old weapons were unavailing.
I know the thoughts that were surging, by Kennedy's suggestion, through her mind—the past of her life, her father, Honore Chappelle; the old love-affair with Shattuck; the attainment31 of social ambitions with Wilford—and back again to the life of her girlhood and the profession of her father.
[257]
I thought for the moment that Craig had broken through her reserve. I knew that Kennedy was in reality fishing—at least I thought so. But it was evident by her actions that Honora did not know it.
"Why do you make these—these accusations32?" she demanded. "You knew that my father was an optician—one of the best known in the city," she cried, searching Craig's face.
Kennedy nodded implacably.
"I haven't made any accusations," he returned, then added, directly, "But I assumed that you knew something of his business while he was alive."
"I do not know by what right you assume that I knew anything of the sort," she fenced. "Girls were not supposed to learn trades or professions in those days."
Honora, in spite of her assumption of a quiet tone, was almost hysterical33. The mounting flush on her face showed that she was keen with emotion, that it was only by an almost superhuman effort that she controlled the volcano of her feelings.
Kennedy could see that it was only by such an effort that she managed to maintain her composure. He must have known that to press the case would have resulted in a situation such as might have advanced us fairly far toward the truth. Yet he did not follow farther any advantage he might have.
Evidently, Kennedy was content to let the seed which he had planted during this visit germinate34. [258] Or was he reluctant to allow McCabe over the dictagraph hear more that might be reported to Doyle on which Doyle might continue to base wrong conclusions? Desperately35 I clung to this last explanation.
As far as Honora was concerned, now, there was no use in our staying longer. Kennedy had deliberately thrown away a chance to drive her into further admissions. The interval36 had given her the time she needed. Now she was keenly on guard and mistress again of herself.
Secretly I was rather glad. It was better to let the information and suspicion that had been aroused work of itself.
"You are not yourself, Mrs. Wilford," suddenly apologized Kennedy. "It is not fair to you. Think over some of the things I have been forced to say to you. Perhaps you will see matters in another light. Good-by."
I do not know whether his keen questioning or this sudden quiet change of tone and the idea of leaving her at such a time had a greater effect. She shot him one startled look, then bowed in silence as we, in turn, bowed ourselves out. She even denied herself the final glance of curiosity, lest she might betray sudden relief changed to deep-seated fear at the sudden departure of Kennedy, with his cool assumption of power.
Outside, we encountered Celeste, who had been hovering37 in the hall, apparently38 listening. Quietly Kennedy beckoned39 her down the hall, away from [259] the door we had just left, while he paused a moment to question her.
"I wish you would refresh your memory, mademoiselle," he began, suddenly. "Are you sure—absolutely sure that on the night Mr. Wilford was murdered madame was here—that she was not out—at all?"
His tone was such as to imply, not suspicion, but certainty that Celeste had been lying, that Mrs. Wilford had been out.
"Oh, but yes, monsieur," Celeste replied, glibly40. "I was with madame all the evening. No—no—she was not out. She was here—all the evening—waiting for him. I can swear it. How many times must I swear it—to you—to those—those beasts!"
Celeste nodded outside. Kennedy smiled.
"Who should know better than I what madame was doing?" continued Celeste, vehemently41.
Kennedy did not pursue the subject.
"You love madame, don't you, Celeste?" he asked, simply.
"Why—yes!" replied the girl, startled by the unexpectedness of the question.
"Good day," nodded Kennedy, simply, as a lawyer might dismiss a witness.
"Methinks she doth protest too much," I quoted, as I remembered the "Aussage test" again and its proof of the unreliability of Celeste.
Kennedy did not attempt further to shake the girl's story, and I was forced to conclude that he had another purpose in view. Perhaps it was that [260] he knew that she would report to Honora what he had asked.
Kennedy turned to go out. But he did not close the door tightly as we went out. Sure enough, no sooner had he seemed to shut the door than he could see that she had darted42 into the room we had just left.
Kennedy smiled and closed the door softly.
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1
remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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conclusive
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| adj.最后的，结论的；确凿的，消除怀疑的 | |
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suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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sarcastic
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| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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relish
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| n.滋味，享受，爱好，调味品；vt.加调味料，享受，品味；vi.有滋味 | |
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defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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reiterated
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| 反复地说，重申( reiterate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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nonchalance
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| n.冷淡，漠不关心 | |
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portrayed
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| v.画像( portray的过去式和过去分词 )；描述；描绘；描画 | |
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camouflaging
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| v.隐蔽( camouflage的现在分词 )；掩盖；伪装，掩饰 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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starch
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| n.淀粉；vt.给...上浆 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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dilettante
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| n.半瓶醋，业余爱好者 | |
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dabbling
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| v.涉猎( dabble的现在分词 )；涉足；浅尝；少量投资 | |
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investigations
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| （正式的）调查( investigation的名词复数 )； 侦查； 科学研究； 学术研究 | |
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covert
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| adj.隐藏的；暗地里的 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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solely
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accusation
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| n.控告，指责，谴责 | |
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trumps
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| abbr.trumpets 喇叭；小号；喇叭形状的东西；喇叭筒v.（牌戏）出王牌赢（一牌或一墩）( trump的过去式 )；吹号公告，吹号庆祝；吹喇叭；捏造 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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concealing
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
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penetrating
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| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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attainment
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| n.达到，到达；［常pl.］成就，造诣 | |
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accusations
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| n.指责( accusation的名词复数 )；指控；控告；（被告发、控告的）罪名 | |
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hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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germinate
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| v.发芽；发生；发展 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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hovering
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| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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glibly
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| adv.流利地，流畅地；满口 | |
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vehemently
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| adv. 热烈地 | |
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darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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