Though Ford1 had disappointed them his story had made the way clear for a decisive move. This was decided3 upon then and there. On Monday morning they would ask Miss Whitehall to come to Whitney & Whitney's and subject her to a real examination. If she maintained her pose of ignorance they would suddenly face her with their complete information. They felt tolerably certain this would be too much for her, secure in her belief that no murder had been suspected. Surprise and terror would seize her, even a hardened criminal, placed unexpectedly in such a position, was liable to break down.
The next day was Sunday. I'll not forget it in a hurry. Many a high pressure day I've had in my twenty-five years but none that had anything over that one. It was gray and overcast4, clouds low down over the roofs which stretched away in a gray huddle5 of flat tops and slanting6 mansards and chimneys and clotheslines. Babbitts spent the morning on the davenport looking like he was in a boat floating through a sea of newspapers. I couldn't settle down to anything, thinking of what was going to happen the next morning, thinking of that girl, that beautiful girl, with her soul stained with crime, and wondering if she could feel the shadow that was falling across her.
After lunch Himself went out saying he'd take a shot at finding Freddy Jaspar and going with him up to Yonkers where there'd been some anarchist7 row. He was restless too. If things turned out right he'd get his Big Story at last—and what a story it would be!—he'd get a raise for certain, and as he kissed me good-bye he said he'd give me the two glass lamps and a new set of furs, anything I wanted short of sable8 or ermine.
In the afternoon Iola dropped in all dolled up and decked with a permanent smile, for she'd landed her new job and liked it fine. As she prattled9 away she let drop something that caught my ear, and lucky it was as you'll see presently. On her way over she'd met Delia, the Whitehalls' maid, who told her the ladies were going to move back to the Azalea Woods Estates where someone had given them a cottage. Delia had just been to see them and found that Mrs. Whitehall had already gone, and Miss Whitehall was packing up to follow on Monday afternoon. Iola thought it was nice they'd got the cottage but didn't I think Miss Whitehall would be afraid of the dullness of the country after living in town? I said you never could tell. What I thought was that if there was anything for Miss Whitehall to be afraid of it wasn't dullness.
At six Iola left, having a date for supper, and a little after that I had a call from Babbitts, saying he and Freddy Jaspar had found the anarchist business more important than they expected and he wouldn't be home till all hours.
Isabella doesn't come on Sunday so I got my own supper and then sat down in the parlor10 and tried to read the papers. But I couldn't put my mind on them. In a few days, perhaps as soon as Tuesday, the Dispatch would have the Harland murder on the front page. I could see the headlines—the copy reader could spread himself—and I tried to work out how Babbitts would write it, where he'd begin—with the crime itself or with all the story that came before it.
It was near eleven and me thinking of bed when there was a ring at the bell. That's pretty late for callers, even in a newspaper man's flat, and I jumped up and ran into the hall. After I'd jammed the push button, I opened the door, spying out for the head coming up the stairs. It came—a derby hat and a pair of broad shoulders, and then Jack11 Reddy's face, raised to mine, grave and frowning.
"Hello, Molly," he said. "It's late, but I couldn't find any of the others so I came to you."
If he hadn't seen anyone he didn't know what had transpired12. The thought made me bubble up with eagerness to tell him the new developments. That was the reason, I guess, I didn't notice how serious he was, not a smile of greeting, not a handshake. He didn't even take off his coat, but throwing his hat on one of the hallpegs, said:
"I've only just got in from Buffalo14. I phoned to the Whitney house from the Grand Central, but they're both out of town, not to be back till tomorrow morning, and O'Mally's away too. Do you know how Ford is?"
"You bet I do. He's sat up, taken nourishment15 and talked."
"Talked? Have they seen him?"
"They have." I turned away and moved up the hall. "Come right in and I'll tell you."
I went into the dining-room where the drop light hung bright over the table, and was going on to the parlor when I heard his voice, loud and commanding, behind me:
"What's he said?"
I whisked round and there he was standing16 by the table, his eyes fixed17 hard and almost fierce on me.
"Won't you come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly," I said laughing, just to tease him. He answered without the ghost of a smile:
"No. Go on quick. What did Ford say?"
"All right." I dropped down into Babbitts' chair and motioned him to mine. "Sit down there. It's a long story and I can't tell it to you if you stand in front of me like a patience on a monument."
He took the chair and putting his elbows on the table, raised his hands, clasped together, and leaned his mouth on them. The light fell full on his face and over those clasped hands his eyes stared at me so fixed and steady they looked the eyes of an image. I don't think while I told him he ever batted a lid and I know he never said a word.
"So you see," I said, when I was through, "Ford's as much out of it as you are."
Without moving his hands he asked:
"What do they think?"
"Why, what do you suppose they think? Instead of there being three of them in it there were two."
"They think she and Barker did it?"
"Of course. They've worked it out this way"—I leaned over the table, my voice low, giving him the details of their new theory. As I told it there was something terrible in those eyes. All the kindness went out of them and a fire came in its place till they looked like crystals with a flame behind them.
"Have they made any plan? Decided on their next step?"
"They've got it all arranged," and I went on about the interview that was planned for the next morning. "With her thinking herself safe the way she does, they're sure they can give her such a jolt21 she'll lose her nerve and tell."
He gave an exclamation22, not words, just a choked, fierce sound, and dropping his hands on the table, burst out like a volcano:
"The dogs! The devils! Dragging her down there to terrify a lie out of her!"
He leaped to his feet, sending the chair crashing down on the floor. I fell back where I sat paralyzed, not only by his words, but at the sight of him.
I think I've spoken of the fact that he had a violent temper and he's told me himself that he's conquered it. But now for the first time I saw it and believe me it was far from dead. I would hardly have known him. His face was savage23, his eyes blazing, and the words came from him as if they were shot out on the breaths that broke in great heaving gasps24 from his lungs.
"Haven't you," he said, "a woman, any heart in you? Are you, that I've always thought all kindness and generosity25, willing to hound an innocent girl to her ruin?"
He grabbed the back of a chair near him and leaned over it glaring at me, shaking, gasping26, and the color of ashes.
"She hasn't," he shouted. "You're all fools, imbeciles, mad. It's a lie—an infamous28, brutal29 lie!"
He dropped the chair and turned away, beginning to pace up and down, his hands clenched30, raging to himself. The room was full of the sound of his breathing, as if some great throbbing31 piece of machinery32 was inside him.
And I—there in my seat, fallen limp against the back—saw it all. What a fool I'd been—what an idiot! He with his empty heart and that beautiful girl—the girl that any man might have loved and how much more Jack Reddy, knowing her poor and lonesome and believing her innocent and persecuted33. I felt as if the skies had fallen on me. My hero—that I'd never found a woman good enough for—in love with a murderess!
He stopped in his pacing and tried to get a grip on himself, tried to speak quietly with his voice gone to a husky murmur34:
"Tomorrow do you say? Tomorrow they're going to do this damnable thing?"
"Tomorrow at ten in Mr. Whitney's office," I answered, weak and trembling.
He stood for a moment looking on the ground, his brows drawn35 low over his eyes, the bones of his jaw36 showing set under the flesh. A deadly fear seized me—a fear that followed on a flash of understanding. I got up—I guess as white as he was—and went over to him.
"Jack," I said. "You can't do anything. Everything's against her. There's not a point that doesn't show she's guilty."
"Don't say that to me again, Molly," he almost whispered, "or I'll forget the debt I owe you and the affection I've felt for you since the day we swore to be friends."
"What can you do?" I cried, fairly distracted. "They've got the evidence. It's there——"
I tried to put my hand on his arm but he shook it off and walked toward the door. I followed him and during those few short steps from the dining-room to the hall, it came to me as clear as if he'd said it that he was going to Carol Whitehall to help her run away.
"What are you going to do?" I said, standing in the doorway38 as he pulled his hat off the peg13 and turned toward the hall door.
"That's my affair," he threw back over his shoulder.
He had his hand on the knob when a thought—an inspiration flashed on me. I don't know where it came from, but when you're fond of a person and see them headed for a precipice39, I believe you get some sort of wireless40 communication from Heaven or some place of that order.
"Miss Whitehall's not in town now," I said.
He stopped short and looked back at me:
"Where is she?"
"I knew that—but they're not there yet?"
"Yes. They went yesterday, sooner than they expected."
He stood for a moment, looking at the floor, then glanced back at me and said:
"Thank you for telling me that. Good night."
The door opened, banged shut and I was alone.
I wonder if anyone reading this story can imagine what I felt. It was awful, so awful that now, here, writing it down peaceful and happy, I can feel the sinking at my heart and the sick sensation like I could never eat food again. And laugh? It was an art I'd lost and never in this world would get back.
It was not only that he loved her—that woman, that vampire42, who could sin at the word of an old man—but it was the thought, the certainty, that he was ready to betray his trust, go back on his partners, be a traitor43 to his office. All the work they'd done, all the hopes they'd built up, all their efforts for success, he was going to destroy. It was disgrace for him, he'd never get over it, he'd be an outcast. As long as he lived he'd be pointed2 at as the man who gave his honor for the love of a wicked woman.
That was the first of my thoughts and the second was that I wasn't going to let him do it. There was just one way of preventing it, and honest to God—think as badly of me as you like, I can't help it—when I got what that way was I was so relieved I didn't care whether I was a traitor or not. All that mattered then was if there'd got to be one—and as far as I could see there had to—it was better for it to be Molly Babbitts, who didn't amount to much in the world, than Jack Reddy, who was a big man and was going to be a bigger.
As I put on my coat and hat I heard the clock strike half-past eleven. There were no trains out to the Azalea Woods Estates before seven the next morning. Even if he took his own auto44, which I guessed he'd do, it would take him the best part of an hour and a half to get there, and long before that she'd have had her warning from me.
Yes—that's what I was going to do—go to her and tell her before he could. Dishonest? Well, I guess yes! I know what's straight from what's crooked45 as well as most. But it seemed to me the future of a man, that man—was worth more than my pledged word, or the glory of Whitney & Whitney, or Babbitts' scoop46. That was the cruelest of all—my own dear beloved Soapy—to go back on him too! Gosh!—going over in the taxi through the dark still streets, how I felt! But it didn't matter. If I died when I was through I'd got to do it. Maybe you never experienced those sensations, maybe you can't understand. But, take it from me, there are people who'd break all the commandments and all the laws to save their friends and, bad or good, I'm one of them.
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1
Ford
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| n.浅滩，水浅可涉处；v.涉水，涉过 | |
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2
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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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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4
overcast
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| adj.阴天的，阴暗的，愁闷的；v.遮盖，（使）变暗，包边缝；n.覆盖，阴天 | |
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5
huddle
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| vi.挤作一团；蜷缩；vt.聚集；n.挤在一起的人 | |
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slanting
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| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
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7
anarchist
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| n.无政府主义者 | |
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8
sable
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| n.黑貂；adj.黑色的 | |
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9
prattled
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| v.（小孩般）天真无邪地说话( prattle的过去式和过去分词 )；发出连续而无意义的声音；闲扯；东拉西扯 | |
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10
parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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11
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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12
transpired
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| （事实，秘密等）被人知道( transpire的过去式和过去分词 )； 泄露； 显露； 发生 | |
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13
peg
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| n.木栓，木钉；vt.用木钉钉，用短桩固定 | |
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14
buffalo
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| n.(北美)野牛；(亚洲)水牛 | |
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15
nourishment
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| n.食物，营养品；营养情况 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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17
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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18
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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21
jolt
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| v.（使）摇动，（使）震动，（使）颠簸 | |
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22
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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24
gasps
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| v.喘气( gasp的第三人称单数 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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25
generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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26
gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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27
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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28
infamous
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| adj.声名狼藉的，臭名昭著的，邪恶的 | |
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29
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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30
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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31
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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32
machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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33
persecuted
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| （尤指宗教或政治信仰的）迫害(~sb. for sth.)( persecute的过去式和过去分词 )； 烦扰，困扰或骚扰某人 | |
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34
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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35
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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36
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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37
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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38
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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39
precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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40
wireless
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| adj.无线的；n.无线电 | |
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41
jersey
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| n.运动衫 | |
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42
vampire
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| n.吸血鬼 | |
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43
traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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44
auto
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| n.(=automobile)(口语)汽车 | |
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45
crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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46
scoop
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| n.铲子，舀取，独家新闻；v.汲取，舀取，抢先登出 | |
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