Crimson Snow (21 page)

Opposite the door was the fireplace, with a large mirror hanging over it. Hilda saw, reflected in the mirror, the striped trousers and coat tails of the butler. He was bending over, intent on his task.

He was trying to open the safe.

Hilda stood paralyzed for a moment, unable to think or move. He had not heard her approach. Her stockinged feet had climbed the carpeted steps silently.

After the first shock her brain began to work again. He must not see her there. As silently as she had come, she backed down the steps, slowly, carefully. She made for the back stairs and climbed them, her heart pounding in her chest.

What must she do? She could not take on the butler herself. He was a burly man, strong from years of carrying heavy trays. None of the family was at home. She thought fleetingly of John Bolton and then dismissed the idea. He would be out with one of the carriages, taking someone somewhere or waiting for the return trip.

The police, of course! She would send for the police.…

No. The telephone was in the office. Besides, she didn't know how to use it.

Send one of the dailies! That was the solution, if there was one whose discretion she could trust. Anton, that was it. Anton had been there for years. He was loyal and trustworthy and would fetch the police quickly while she, Hilda, stood guard to make sure the butler didn't get away with anything he stole.

She headed back down the stairs to the basement and the servants' room.

The giggling was louder now. Hilda stepped into the room and looked around with dismay.

The three maids, Janecska, Sarah, and Anna, were lolling about the room, their caps and shoes discarded. Sarah sat in Mr. Williams's chair, a magazine in her lap. The other two sat at the table playing checkers.

Anton was not there.

“You are a disgrace, all of you!” said Hilda furiously. “And where is Anton?”

“Huh!” said Anna. “You're not our boss anymore. And that fine sister of yours is asleep and Mr. Barnes is busy somewhere, and who's going to know? There's nothing to do, anyway.”

Hilda scarcely heard them.
“Where is Anton?”
she repeated, her voice rising to near-hysteria.

“Out,” said Janecska, looking at Hilda curiously. “He had to drive Colonel George someplace or other, 'cause John's taken the ladies out in the brougham. And what's the matter with you, anyway?”

Hilda bit her lip, trying to think. Anton had recently been allowed to drive the lighter carriages occasionally, when expediency demanded. He might be out for hours if Colonel George needed him to wait.

“What's the matter?” Janecska asked again.

Hilda didn't dare tell them. “It does not matter. I needed him to run an errand, but I will do it myself. Now get yourselves to work or I will tell Mr. Barnes.” She gave them a look intended to scare away any speculation that might have arisen in their minds, and whisked out the door.

There was no help for it. Despairingly Hilda ran up the back stairs, fetched her shoes, and ran back down, keeping as quiet as she could when she neared the first floor. Stopping only to tie her shoes and throw on a cloak, she headed downtown, hoping she would encounter a policeman on the way.

There is never a policeman around when you want one. Hilda half slid, half ran the seven blocks and burst, out of breath, into the station. “I need help immediately!” she said, panting. “Someone is breaking into Colonel Studebaker's safe!”

Hilda Johansson, acting in her private capacity, might have received short shrift, but the magic name of Studebaker commanded immediate attention. Three large armed men climbed into a wagon, pulled Hilda aboard with scant ceremony, and urged the horses to a gallop.

On the way they asked Hilda what she had seen. Some instinct kept her from speaking the name of the temporary butler. She said, several times, that she had seen the back of a man, working at the safe. She acted terrified—not much of an act, after all, for she was still badly frightened. Finally they left off questioning her and she had time for second thoughts. Was this wise? Would the Studebakers appreciate policemen trampling all over their house? What if Mr. Barnes had already opened the safe, taken what he wished, and left? There would be only Hilda's word for what had happened. Would she be suspected of theft herself?

The wagon rattled up the front drive and pulled up beneath the porte-cochere before Hilda could convince the driver of the need for quiet. The porte-cochere door was the closest one to the office. Shaking her head, Hilda opened the door and they all trooped inside.

Mr. Barnes was standing in the small entrance hall, looking down his nose. “And what, may I ask, is the meaning of this intrusion?”

“The young woman here said someone was breaking into the safe,” said the largest policeman before Hilda could get a word in. “We'll need to take a look. Where is this safe?”

“It is in Colonel Studebaker's office, but I have no authority to admit you. I assure you that there are no strangers in the house and nothing has been touched.”

They searched the office anyway, the butler expostulating all the way. They badgered Hilda for a description of the man she said she had seen, to which she steadfastly replied that she had seen only his back and could tell them no more. They went on and searched the whole house, much to the distress of the live-in servants, awakened from their rest, and the entertainment of the dailies. Hilda could feel the butler's cold eye on her at every step.

When the policemen had left, grumbling about false alarms, Mr. Barnes let them out the basement door. Then he turned from the door, folded his arms, and fixed his basilisk gaze on Hilda. “Now, young woman, suppose you tell me what this is all about.”

Because…a new clew has developed, the special board of
inquiry has been ordered to reconvene today.

—South Bend
Tribune
   
February 12, 1904

 

 

 

21

S
HE HAD SPENT THE TIME while the police were trampling over the house making up a story. Now, tremblingly, she produced it. “Sir, I heard—well, I thought I heard a noise in Colonel George's office.”

“It is not your place to refer to your employer by his first name.”

“But we all do that! It is because there were once two men in this house, Mr. Clement Studebaker and his son Colonel George Studebaker. We used their first names to make it clear which—”

“It doesn't matter what you did in the past. There is now only one man, and his name is Colonel Studebaker. I would have thought your butler would have insisted on it. But it is of little importance at the moment. What do you mean, you heard a noise? You told the police you saw someone.”

“Well, I—I was afraid, because the house felt so empty. I knew Colonel Geo—Colonel Studebaker was not at home, and I saw—well, I thought I saw a shadow in his office that might be a man, and—oh, I know I have been foolish!” She burst into tears that were not entirely spurious. Her nerves were overwrought.

“A shadow! A noise! For that you brought the police into this house?”

“Oh, Mr. Barnes! You will not tell Colonel George, will you? Colonel Studebaker, I mean. I have been working very hard, and I am upset. I promise I will never do such a t'ing again.” She gave an artistic sob or two and waited for what would surely come.

The butler dragged it out with a lecture on the proper behavior of servants in a gentleman's house, and followed with a long lament about the additional work he would have to do, placating the other servants, but in the end he said what she had known he must. “Very well, Hilda, I will let it go this time. You have, after all, served in this household for quite a long time, though I do wonder about the standards set by your Mr. Williams. You have my word that I will say nothing to Colonel Studebaker, and I will instruct the other servants to keep their mouths shut. You may go, Hilda. You have taken up far too much of my time with this nonsense.”

She waited until he was out of sight and then slipped out the door and up the stairs to the drive. She shot across to the carriage house, went in, and stood in the shadowy gloom of the stables, listening to the small noises of the horses and the mice and letting her heart slow down to normal.

She had but one ally in this house, and his allegiance was dubious. He was, however, large and strong, and Hilda had an idea he didn't much care for the temporary butler, either.

She pulled a stool into a dark corner and settled down, wrapped in a horse blanket, to wait until John Bolton came home.

Her teeth were chattering and shadows were growing long by the time the brougham with its two horses clopped up the drive. She waited to show herself until John had assisted the ladies out of the carriage and had driven around to unhitch the horses. Then she stepped into the light.

John saw her and whistled. “Waiting for me, are you? Got tired of Paddy already, eh?”

“John, this is serious. Leave the horses for a moment and come in here. I must talk to you.”

“Can't leave them long. They need wiping down, and they're hungry.”

“Five minutes, no more. They can stand that long. It is not very cold today.”

Grumbling, John stepped into the stable. “So what's so all-fired important?”

“Mr. Barnes is a thief,” she said baldly. “I saw him trying to get into Colonel George's safe.”

“I knew it!” He smacked his knee. “Something about that fellow got my goat the minute he showed his face around here. But why are you telling me? You need to telephone the police!”

“I went for them.” Quickly Hilda sketched out what had happened, and her pretense to Mr. Barnes. “I had to make him think I knew nothing. But, John, someone must tell Colonel George. Only I am afraid. If Mr. Barnes is discharged, he will know it is I who told, and I do not know what he might do.”

John whistled and scratched his head. “Tell you what. You'd best get back to the house while I take care of the horses and the carriage. When the other servants ask, you can tell them the same taradiddle you told Barnes—you were mistaken, you exaggerated, you're very sorry. Then I'll come in and find you, and we can work out what you can do.”

Hilda nodded. “Thank you, John. But you will think while you deal with the horses?”

“That I will. Now off you go.”

She slipped into the house without anyone noticing. The work of the household had begun again. If voices seemed pitched a little higher, a little faster, it was the only sign of the disruption of routine.

She had to find Elsa. Mr. Barnes would have told the others her careful lies. She didn't care if they believed him, but Elsa should know the truth. The afternoon was half gone. Elsa should, at this time of day, be cleaning the dining rooms and making sure all was in order for dinner. Hilda quickly reviewed in her mind the duties of the other servants and decided she had a good chance of catching Elsa alone.

Her luck held. Elsa was at the far end of the state dining room, carefully cleaning the tooled leather wall-covering with a soft, long-handled dust mop. She had not turned on the gas, and the day had darkened enough that the room was shadowy. Hilda tapped on the door, held a finger to her mouth as Elsa turned around, and went to her quickly.

“Say nothing, my sister. I do not want anyone to find us. I lied to Mr. Barnes. What he told you was not true. I did see someone.” Elsa uttered a little squeak of fear or excitement, Hilda couldn't tell which. “You are in no danger, I think, so long as you do your work and stay where you belong. You will say nothing to show Mr. Barnes you do not believe him. And do
not
tell any of the other servants what I have told you. It is better that they believe Mr. Barnes, but I did not want you to think me such a fool. Now I must go, but I will see you later tonight and tell you more.”

She gave her sister a hard hug and stole out of the room to wait for John near the back door.

She was far too near the kitchen door for comfort. Mrs. Sullivan was humming as she worked, in a good mood for once. She was baking a pie for dinner. The rich smell of cinnamon and apples drifted out to Hilda's corner and made her mouth water. Breakfast was only a memory and lunch had been nearly nonexistent, but Hilda had no wish to enter the kitchen. Mrs. Sullivan's good mood might not last, and Hilda wasn't sure how much lying she was prepared to do. Once Elsie, the scullery maid, came out of the kitchen with a tray full of crockery for the servants' supper table and passed by Hilda, nearly close enough to touch. Hilda shrank back, but Elsie was too worried about breaking something to notice.

Elsie, Elsa. For the first time Hilda thought about the confusion of two maids in the house with such similar names. Then she dismissed it. The two worked in entirely different spheres, and if anyone found the similarity a problem, one of the names would simply be changed. It happened to servants all the time. The convenience of the masters outweighed any feelings servants might have about—

The back door opened and John stepped through.

“I am here,” said Hilda in a whisper. “We should go out.”

John nodded and drew her outside. “Come back to the carriage house with me. Don't worry. I'm on my good behavior, for once. Your virtue is safe. For now.”

Hilda went with him. This was John at his best, helpful and kind. She wouldn't stay long, though. His kindness could change to something else in the blink of an eye, as she had good reason to know.

“Now, listen,” he said, when he had her settled on a chair in his room over the stables. “I've thought about this. You've got to get away. I'll tell Colonel George. He has to know, so he can see if anything is missing. Then he'll have to decide whether to sack the fellow. But even if he doesn't, you're for it. Barnes knows he was really in there, and he doesn't know how much you really saw. You're not safe to have around, and there's no telling what a crook like Barnes might do.”