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Show XV B KATHLEEN N0RP.IS CHAPTER XIX "I'm not planning to give you back your money, Amy," Cherry said. "But I want you to let me at least pay oft those debts and promises that Gog made when he thought he was going to have it." "He never asked me for money " Amy stated lifelessly. "I know he didn't. But it's there, enough at least to get him into the clear. And for the rest. Amy, why do we have to let anyone know that we ever changed names? Why not just let that part go? You're married now; your name is different. differ-ent. And Kelly and I . . ." Amy's tear-swollen eyes brightened bright-ened into a half interest. "I knew you were crazy about Kelly," she said somberly. "I only mean this, Amy. Take some of it I don't want it or need it! Pay off these bills, and then let me send you an allowance ..." "You're very kind, Cherry," Amy broke in decisively, "but I couldn't. It wouldn't solve anything. I know you mean well ..." "Now listen," Cherry interrupted In her turn. "Don't be so silly. Suppose you went to Gogo now and said that while things never would be as they were, you could clear up his debts." "Cherry," Amy said in a whisper, suddenly breaking, "if only I hadn't married him! You don't know how fast Gogo spends money! He'll lose two or three thousand in one race, or one evening at roulette! Once he lost twenty-seven thousand in one night!" "You'll not put up with that forever, for-ever, Amy," Cherry said seriously. "No; I know I won't," Amy said quickly. "You'll want to come back some day," Cherry went on. "I know." Amy's whisper was almost al-most inaudible. "He doesn't deny that he wouldn't have married me If it hadn't been for the money," she said. "Then why not try, Amy, since money will make a difference, why not try putting this plan to him. All his debts paid, and an allowance." A silence. Then Amy said, "But why should you do this, Cherry?" "Oh, why shouldn't I?" Cherry asked in return. "I want to. I'll never feel that I'm really Amelia Marshbanks any more than you'll ever feel that you're Charlotte Rawl-ings. Rawl-ings. It'll always seem as much yours as mine, and I think that's the way that's1 the way, perhaps," Cherry went on, suddenly shy, "that he that our father would want it to be." "After all, we are sisters, and so it's not fair," Amy said, with a return re-turn of her sullen manner. "Amy," Cherry said suddenly. The other girl looked up wearily and without hope. "You wouldn't want Gogo to go away and leave you?" Cherry asked. "You wouldn't want to end it all here and now?" She had gone too far. Amy's head went up in anger and pride. "Why, of course I wouldn't!" she said coldly. "I'm his wife. I'm the Countess Constantino, after all. No, we'll work it out some way," Amy finished, rising, "without your help, Cherry, but many thanks to you just the same." A scream, dreadful in its high-pitched high-pitched violence; a woman's voice shrieking, "No, no, no!" had rung through the quiet of the late afternoon. after-noon. Kelly abruptly left the room. There was a moment's terrible silence, si-lence, and then Fran's voice, hysterical hys-terical and choked with tears: "No, no, no! They shan't! My darling, they shan't! You didn't do it! I did! " Then silence again except for a low, indistinguishable murmur of men's voices downstairs. Cherry and old Mrs. Marshbanks remained motionless, their eyes fixed on each other. The older woman had collapsed col-lapsed into her chair, her face was ghastly. After an endless moment Kelly, breathless, came back into the room, his face grave. "They've arrested Fran?" Cherry managed to ask. "No. not Fran. They told me twenty minutes ago. after they had him," Kelly said. "But they asked me to wait for half an hour and to be- with you and Mrs. Marshbanks when they made the arrest, and told Fran. No; we've all been blind as bats, Cherry. It was right under our eyes, all the time. It was Rousseau." Rous-seau." "Rousseau!" the old woman's voice held resonance, like a bell. "Rousseau!" Cherry whispered. Kelly spoke quietly, shrugging, his arm about Cherry. "He and Fran have been lovers for months." he said. ."Kelly, he's a boy ! He's not twenty ! " "He's eighteen. But he gave his age as twenty when the judge hired him about a year ago "Their affair began back in April," Kelly went on. "From the very first she liked him, made a friend of him. He fell madly in love with her. of course; that wasn't so strange. But Fran became completely com-pletely infatuaied with him too. They began to plan days in the country; she just mothering him at first, advising him. And then, a few months ago. she gave m. anc' since then poor girl! He was the stronger Mullins told me all this an hour ago when I came back he was the stronger, and whenever he suspected anything like lovemaking between her and the judge or anyone else he threatened to kill her and himself." Cherry could only listen wide-eyed while Kelly went on. "That last night," he was saying, "Rousseau was in a fury because the judge had told him that he must be prompter prompt-er when they called him. He and Fran had been off all day, heaven knows where! And then to have to turn back into the servant again, to drive them to Burlingame and wait, with the other chauffeurs it was too much for him! He was beside himself him-self with his idolatry of her, he couldn't bear the thought of her being down there with her husband, dancing, being admired, perhaps spending the night at the club. He's only a young boy, of course, and the tastes of luxury that Fran gave him demoralized him, of course. She bought him silk shirts, extravagant lounging robes and neckties, gave him money ..." "He said his mother was rich and ran a big hotel and she sent them to him!" May put in. She had come in to light Cherry's lamps. "That night the judge asked him to take the revolver and clean it," Kelly said, "reproved him for laziness lazi-ness and told him that he and Mrs. Marshbanks were going on a little holiday to Mexico City and would not take him or the car. The poor young fool blurted out that he loved her, that she had belonged to him for months, that he was going to give up his position and find work worthy of her. "He says the judge lunged at him, across the desk, and that he fired. "It may have happened that way." "Fran!" Cherry gasped. The older old-er woman was apparently incapable of speech. , "Fran knew immediately," Kelly went on. "She heard their voices and was halfway down the stairs when the end came. Rousseau only had to slip out, go to his room over "the garage, partly undress and come running in with the others, as he did. By that time she'd rushed into the library and, I suppose, wiped the gun on her dressing gown with the feeling that there might be fingerprints fin-gerprints on it." "He was the one person we never thought of because he was here, right under our eyes," Cherry marveled. mar-veled. "But, Kelly, whatever made them first suspect him? What gave him away?" "One thing, they said, , and then when they began to smell a rat, everything else fell in line. Especially Espe-cially when they planted him." "And what was the plant?" "Their taking Fran. That was all a plant to see what he'd do. He loves her, you know, and the minute he thought she was in trouble he began all sorts of maneuvers to draw them off. He invented a strange .Chinese who'd been hanging hang-ing around the kitchen. He invented invent-ed a telephone call that he'd taken that evening at eight o'clock. He made up a conversation with the judge that he'd had in which the judge said that 'an old enemy' whose prison term was just up had written him threatening letters. "Mullins says they asked him finally sort of carelessly, he said if he knew the judge and Mrs. Marshbanks occupied separate bedrooms. bed-rooms. That was, Rousseau answered, an-swered, he believed to be not an unusual un-usual arrangement among Americans. Ameri-cans. But it was one to which the elderly husband of a handsome young woman might object, they suggested. And that made mm aus.i up, poor kid, and he said he knew that the judge had agreed to that, indeed he had suggested it Well, Mullins didn't show any surprise at the chauffeur knowing an intimate inti-mate detail like that, but he went oft on a side line Rousseau's salary, sal-ary, days off, friends here all that sort of thing. Had he a sweetheart? Yes, back in France. When were they to be married? As soon as she could come to America. Her name? Marie La Crosse. "Mullins let him think everything was satisfactory, but he went and had a look for Rousseau's naturalization naturali-zation papers. He hadn't any. He came over as a cabin boy and jumped ship in New York. He's been in this country five years, which would make him a little short of fourteen when he got here. His story struck Mullins as queer all through. It seemed odd that a boy that age should be engaged when he left home, but Mullins says he doesn't know anything about French marriages, so he cabled our consul at Lyons, and they got hold of the prefect of police and asked for the address of Marie La Crosse. There was some delay, and then the answer an-swer came back that Charles Rousseau's Rous-seau's aunt Marie La Crosse, was still living with his parents just outside out-side of Lyons. After that everything every-thing pointed one way!" "And Fran loves him!" Cherry mused. "But the thing I can't forgive for-give her, Kelly,'; she added with spirit, "is that she would have got you into it!" "She was only sparring for time, then. She gave those letters to the police herself. But as you know, there wasn't anything in them," the man said. "That was just a blind." "Kelly, will they hang him?" the girl asked fearfully. "Mullins says probably not. He's ' only a kid to begin with, and it wasn't premeditated. No; they'll give him a pretty stiff sentence and she'll spend all the time he's in jail working for him, comforting him. It's the end of Fran, of course, as far as her present life and friends and ways of living go." "And it's over!" Cherry said, in a wondering voice. "Yep. No more Marshbanks mystery. mys-tery. He's signed a full confession and turned over to them some of her letters." "Oh, Kelly," Cherry breathed on j a long note of relief, "can you believe be-lieve that the men will get out of the house, and that we'll have nothing noth-ing else to do but be married! Oh, and it's going to be spring, and I'm going to . "You still have to talk me over to this plot, Marchioness," Kelly said, as she paused. "Well, I think if you'll send me up some tea, May, I'll go to my room," said old Dora Marshbanks, rising somewhat stiffly. "Ah, stay here, Gran," Cherry said, "and we'll all have tea together. to-gether. Maybe Amy'U come in too, and we'll talk plans." "I know someone else who wants to talk plans," the old woman said, with a glance at Kelly. "But there's no hurry," Cherry said, laughing. She had been sitting sit-ting up in bed. Now like "a joyous child she collapsed, slender, silk-clad silk-clad body, loose mop of gold-and-tan-streaked hair, fragrant, warm young cheek against him. Laughing, she put up her face for his kiss. "After Monday week Kelly and I'll have all the time there is together!" she said. "Won't we Kelly?" "Just as you say, Marchioness," Kelly answered meekly. THE END1 |
