The Case of the Weird Sisters (11 page)

But Innes was alive.

It was four in the morning by the time the confusion was over, the room quiet, and Lmes able to smile at them weakly.

"If I were you," the doctor said to Alice, "I'd get to bed. And you too, young man." Fred frowned. "You needn't worry. I'll stay right here until eight o'clock. I want to watch him."

Alice staggered off and fell on her bed. It was stripped and bare, but she didn't care. She had her coat on anyhow, and the doctor was here until eight o'clock. The responsibility was his until then. A load gone. Time to sigh and forget it. It didn't occur to her to wonder where, in the course of events, she had got that load, or why it belonged to her. It was enough to feel it gone. She could sleep. Someone came and put some blankets over her. She murmured gratefully.

Fred closed her door as softly as he could. He stood in the hall just outside, rubbing the back of his neck. Then he went along to his cot in the lumber room.

11

Susan Innes turned away from her telephone. "That was the doctor," she said.

Her paying guest looked up from his breakfast of ham and eggs.

"There's been more trouble up there." Her soft mouth was trying to be grim. "Do you know, I begin to think something must be wrong."

"How is Miss Brennan?" asked MacDougal Duff.

"Oh, dear, I didn't ask. But then, he didn't say, either. It seems that something went wrong with the furnace last night and filled Innes's room with coal gas, and he was nearly overcome. But Fred—that's the chaufeur, a real nice boy, too—Fred and Alice or both of them found out about it in time. So Innes is all right now. And Alice must be all right, too, or the doctor would have said."

Duff said, "I'll go up there with you, please."

"Oh, yes," she said. "Of course, you must Besides, I told Isabel last night that I would bring you."

"Isabel is the crippled sister?"

"Yes, the youngest one. Oh, I ought to have insisted. But she said Alice was in bed and asleep and it was late. I hated to ask them to wake her.''

"What time was it then?" Duff asked.

"Well, they didn't send your wke up from the station for hours. They're so careless that way. As soon as it came, I called. It must have been eleven o'clock!" Susan's awed tone indicated that eleven o'clock to her was very late indeed. "I spoke to Isabel. She said AUce was quite aU nght and sound asleep in bed. So, of couree, I. . "

"Don't worry about it," Duff said, smiling at her. "You did your duty."

"Did I?" said Susan. "I thmk I ought to have waited up to you, or left a note. The wire said, Tlease find Alice Brennan and ask if she needs help.' Well, of course, I had more or less found her, smce I knew who she was, but..."

"Why didn't they telephone the message to you? Do they insist upon delivering telegrams here?"

"It's so stupid," Susan said. "They forgot I have a phone. I haven't had it for very long, you see, and people are so used to having to reach me by other means "

From what you tell me," Duff said, "it's your son who seems to have had all the trouble."

Susan looked very grave. "Yes. Yes, he does. First the big lamp fell off the upstairs hall table and just missed his head. And then they had an accident m the car, and he was injured. And now... It is a lot of bad luck, isn't it?"

"I think I want to talk to Miss Brennan," Duff said, So, as soon as you're ready . . ."

They walked up the hill together. Duff accommodating his long-legged stride to Susan's short one. They were a strange pair. The little old lady with the rosy face, in her dolman and old-fashioned hat, and the tall lean man whose clothes, in spite of their unstudied style, hung on his frame with a certain grace that marked him for a city guy.

"You will have to tell me more about the Whitlock family." Duff said. "So, as soon as you're ready. . ."

"Dear me, "Susan said, "the girls are not much younger than I am. Gertrude's fifty-five. And Isabel must be fifty-one herself. They were young women when I married their father. Or, rather, when their father married me. Stephen was never passive about anything."

"What kind of young women?"

"Oh, very elegant and cultivated. They'd been abroad. They are the only people in this town who have ever been to Europe. Fve been to Chicago. Stephen took me for a honeymoon."

Duff smiled. "Cultivated? Educated?"

"Well," Susan said, "girls didn't go to college in their day. But they had music lessons, and Gertrude used to paint china. They were . . . Well, if you understood a mining town . . ."

"Tell me," said Duff.

"Stephen was a rich man. He was like the Lord of the Manor. Don't laugh."

"No," said Duff. "These small towns have industrial dynasties. His three daughters were princesses, eh?"

"Oh, yes," Susan said. "Far too high up for the young men around here. There was only the young doctor, and sometimes visiting, royalty from other towns. They were spoiled, I suppose. It "wasn't their fault"

"Stephen spoiled them?"

"Well being so high and mighty in a little town like this. They weren't very attractive," Susan said, "not really. None of them were pretty. I sometimes think if they had had to try . . ."

"For popularity?"

"Well, for attention."

"Bom to the spotlight, eh? Did you live with them long after your husband died?"

"I didn't live with them at all. I moved away. You see, they didn't want me there. Heavens! Besides, I wouldn't have liked it I wasn't anybody, Mr. Duff. Stephen just took a fancy to me, and I fell in love. Sometimes I think that if I had stopped to think . . ." She sighed.

"The girls were always hostile?"

"Hostile?" She examined the word,

"What word would you use?"

"Condescending, perhaps," said Susan. ''Not that I blame them. I don't blame them a bit. Why, Mr. Duff, I was their mother's parlor maid. So how could I stay there and pretend to be Mrs. Whitlock when I was only Susan Innes, after Stephen was gone?"

"You were very wise,'' said Duff "Your son didn't stay, either?"

"Oh, no, Innes went off to the city. He was very bright, you know, and ambitious. He's done very well. Innes is a richer man than his father was. It seems strange to think of that, but I do believe he is. Of course, times were different. Innes hasn't got Stephen's .. . well... force. Innes is bright and clever, but Stephen dominated. You know?"

"Go on," said Duff.

"Innes is more Whitlock than Innes, just the same. The girls are his family. You see, he ..."

"Condescends, too?"

"Yes, he does," Susan said. "But it was all around him in the house when he was a little boy, and he couldn't help picking it up. I saw it happen. I don't mind, you know."

"You don't, do you?" said Duff with some surprise.

"No," said Susan. "I know exactly who I am and always was. It was just for a few years that Stephen rather forced me out of myself, to keep up with him. But there's no use pretending."

Duff looked down at her placid face.

"Have you been lonely?"

"Why, no. I have a lot of friends," said Susan complacently, "and I like to read."

"Innes never wanted you to come and live mth him?" Duff watched her.

"My goodness, no. I'd make him very unhappy. Innes isn't easy with me, Mr. Duff. I don't know why. I try not to bother him."

"I know why," said MacDougal Duff. "You're a very irritating woman. The trouble with you, you are thoroughly humble and good, and nothing is so infuriating as that."

"Why, Mr. Duff!" said Susan. "Dear me, I never meant to be."

"Furthermore, the Whitlocks never impressed you one bit. You're a freak, my dear Mrs. Innes. You were probably bom self-respecting, and you never got over it."

"You're jollying me."

Duff put his arm under hers and lifted her up the steps.

"I shouldn't have told you," he said, "because it's too

late to change now. You're set in your ways. Just the same, if you ever feel the need of your son's affection, be a little petty. A little mean. A little selfish." "How you talkl" said Susan.

12

Mr. Johnson let them in.

Dr. Follett, coming downstairs a few minutes later, observed Susan's companion carefully out of the comer of his eye. He saw a tall man with a lined face, a man who looked, in an indefinable way, competent, self-possessed, and used to thought, even though his hazel eyes were now clouded over and he stood as if he were in a trance, gazing with dreamy intensity at Mr. Johnson.

So lost was he in absorbed observation of that odd figure that Susan had to touch his arm to present him to the doctor. Duffs eyes awoke. The heavy lids changed shape. Dr. Follett felt with a shock the sudden power of Duff's concentrated attention.

"Innes is asleep," the doctor said, siunmoning his smoothest professional manner to cover the shrinkage in his soul. "He is all right, Susan. Fortunately, the young people got to him in time. Another hour or two, and I shouldn't like to think about what might have happened."

"At what time were you called, doctor?" Duff made it the casual question of a more or less interested stranger.

"A little after two o'clock, sir." Dr. Follett could not imagine why he added that old-fashioned "sir."

"Poor Innes. I won't wake him, of course," said Susan. "Are the girls in the dining room?"

'They ain't up," said Mr. Johnson. He made a noise m his cheek as if he sucked a back tooth and walked away. His bulk moved silently down the hall to the dining-room door.

"I don't believe they are about yet," the doctor said. "I haven't heard them. It's rather early. They had a bad night, you know."

Mr. Johnson disappeared without having looked back, and Duff swung back to the doctor. "Where is Miss Brennan?"

"Miss Brennan is asleep, too.''

"Quite the enchanted castle, isn't it?" Duff said.

Upon the sound of a car, the front door opened to admit two men, both of them yoiing. One, Duff saw, was dark and stocky and wore a chauffeur's uniform. The other was casually elegant in gray, a tall fair man with curly blond hair, good-looking, urbane. He presented himself to the company as one conscious of his own charm. But the sight of Duff surprised him.

Fred counted faces and said quickly, "Who's with Mr. Whitlock?"

"He's asleep."

"Alone in the room?" Fred set down the suitcase he carried.

The doctor said, "Why, yes, I. . ."

"You shouldn't do that," Fred said severely and went upstairs fast.

"Am I seeing things?" said the good-looking boy, "or do I see Professor Duff?"

"You do," Duff said. "Killeen, isn't it? Five years ago."

"The famous academic memory for names and faces," Art Killeen said. "How are you, sir? It's good to see you. What are you doing in these parts?"

"Hunting the American Indian," said Duff pleasantly, and the blond boy laughed.

"No doubt you people are wondering what on earth I'm doing here," Killeen said. "I happen to be Mr. Whitlock's lawyer. I had a wire yesterday asking me to come up. He's here, isn't he?"

"Yes," said the doctor. "Yes, of course. But he had an unpleasant experience last night. I'm afraid he is asleep, Mr. Killeen, and I don't think he ought to be awakened."

Curiosity shone in the lawyer's eyes, but he suppressed it. "Isn't Miss Brennan here, too?" Killeen turned to Duff. "You remember Alice Brennan?"

"I do," said Duff. "I've come to see her myself. But this house is asleep. We must aU wait Meanwhile, doctor . . ."

Susan said, "Have you had breakfast, Mr. Killeen? I'm sure Josephine can find you a cup of coffee. I don't think they'U mind." She carried him off to the dining room.

The doctor looked uncertainly at Duff. He cleared his throat to make a remark, searching for a polite phrase.

Duff said, his quiet voice asking for the truth, "What actually happened?"

"I don't quite know," Dr. Follett said uncomfortably. "AH I know is that something went wrong with the heating arrangements, and a considerable amount of coal gas poured into Mr. Whitlock's room by way of his register. The house has a hot-air system. I suppose . . ."

"Was it an accident?" No excitement or horrid speculation. Just a question.

The doctor squirmed. "I don't know. Perhaps it was. I really couldn't say."

"Has anyone been in the cellar?''

"Oh, yes, yes . . ."

"I'd like very much to see the cellar," Duff said.

The doctor stiffened. "I'm afraid only the Misses Whitlock can give you permission, and they are not awake yet. Are you a heating expert, Mr. Duff?"

"I am a detective," Duff said sweetly.

"Oh." The doctor's eyes fell, came sharply back to Duff's face, and fell again.

"I wonder"—Duff's voice was the voice of the tempter—"if I could find the cellar. Do you know where the stairs are?"

The doctor turned his palms up. "I am in a very awkward position in this house, Mr. Duff. I am Mr. Whitlock's doctor, but I do not attend his sisters. Nor have, for many years. I'm afraid I can't help you."

"I think perhaps you can help me," Duff said with his sudden appealing smile, "but not here and not now. Suppose I call on you in your office, sometime later?"

"Very happy," said Dr. Follett with relief. "Good. Do that. I must get along. I have a call to make, and I must sleep, myself. But I shall expect you. Yes, thank you. Good-by."

Dr. Follett went out. He was a man bursting with talk but muzzled, unable to say anything.

Duff slipped his eye aroimd the hall, identified the exits and entrances, the two archways to the two front rooms, the bathroom door under the stairs, and the dining-room at right angles to it. Through this he went.

Susan was chatting pleasantly with young Killeen.

"Everybody's asleep except the chauffeur," Duff said. "I'd like very much to talk to him, Mrs. Innes."

"Then I'll just go and sit with Innes myself," she said promptly and went briskly off.

Killeen said, "She's Innes's mother, she says. Amazing. Pleasant old soul, though."

"At least," said Duff gently. "Is Innes going to change his will?"

"I don't know. Maybe so. What's going on up here? For instance, you're not looking for Indians," Killeen challenged with an air of shrewdness, "in this house."

"I lead a double life," said Duff cheerfully. "Sometunes the two halves coincide."

"I've heard what the other half of you double life is, lately. Well, well. . ." Killeen was being the old pal, on the inside track, man-to-man stuff.

Duffs mild eye put him in his place. Art Kileen got ten years younger m as many seconds. "I suppose," he murmured to his coffee cup, "I had better just wait until Whitlock can see me."

"Yes. Just wait," Duff said indulgently

When Fred appeared it was with respectful attention a servant thoroughly in his place, and MacDougal Duff went gently to work to put him out of it.

"Susan Innes recommends you," he said, when they were alone in the sitting room, having left Killeen to his coohng coffee. "So I thought, as long as the house is asleep, I'd like to talk to you."

"You're a friend of Mrs. Innes?" Fred asked, a little more ready to relax.

"I'm her paying guest, that's all," Duff said. "I happen to know Killeen. I also know Miss AHce Brennan."

"I see," said Fred, who didn't.

"They were both students of mine, m the same class, now that I remember. I used to teach, you see "

Fred looked enlightened. "That wasn't in Chicago?"

"No. In New York."

Fred nodded.

"I don't teach histoy anymore. I'm a detective. Anyhow, I have investigated various murder cases with some success. Yesterday morning at the railroad station, I saw Miss Brennan on the platform. She seemed to want to speak to me. That's why I'm here. I came to find out what it was she wanted to say."

"Does she know you're a detective now?"

"I don't know. What do you think?"

"She probably does," Fred said.

"Yes," Duff said, "I think so. Mrs. Innes has told me the sequence of events."

"Some sequence. Since last night, I'm pretty sure."

"Sure?"

"Sure that somebody's trying to do in my boss," Fred said. "What can a detective do in a case hke that? Is trying to kill him a crime, even if they don't succeed?"

"Certainly," said Duff, "but a very difficult one to prove."

"Yeah," said Fred, "I dunno how you'd prove it."

"As I've been able to gather from Mrs. Innes, the things that have happened might have been accidents."

"Not what happened last night That's why I'm pretty

sure now."

"Could we go down cellar?" asked Duff softly.

Fred grinned. "Why not? Tve been down there. I'd like to show you."

"It's so awkward to explain to your hostesses that you think they're up to a litde murder and therefore you would like to see the cellar."

Fred grinned wider. 'They're asleep, aren't they?"

He led Duff through the kitchen, where Josephine looked around at them without protest, and down the cellar stairs. It was a shallow, old-fashioned cellar, with stone walls that hadn't been whitewashed for a long time. Duff had to duck constantly, for the roof was crisscrossed with a large number of fat pipes, branching out of the big furnace like the tentacles of a deformed octopus. There was a coal fire. Fred looked in at it briefly.