The Bat

Rinehart, Mary Roberts

• Publisher: pubOne.info
• Year: 2010
• eBook ISBN: 9782819936459
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Crime & Mystery Literature
• Index: Literature

pubOne.info present you this new edition. "e;You've got to get him, boys- get him or bust! "e; said a tired police chief, pounding a heavy fist on a table. The detectives he bellowed the words at looked at the floor. They had done their best and failed. Failure meant "e;resignation"e; for the police chief, return to the hated work of pounding the pavements for them- they knew it, and, knowing it, could summon no gesture of bravado to answer their chief's. Gunmen, thugs, hi-jackers, loft-robbers, murderers, they could get them all in time- but they could not get the man he wanted.

CHAPTER FIVE

ALOPECIA AND RUBEOLA

Miss Cornelia dropped her newspaper. Lizzie, frankly frightened, gave a little squeal and moved closer to her mistress. Only Billy remained impassive but even he looked sharply in the direction whence the sound had come.

Miss Cornelia was the first of the others to recover her poise.

“Stop that! It was the wind! ” she said, a little irritably— the “Stop that! ” addressed to Lizzie who seemed on the point of squealing again.

“I think not wind, ” said Billy. His very lack of perturbation added weight to the statement. It made Miss Cornelia uneasy. She took out her knitting again.

“How long have you lived in this house, Billy? ”

“Since Mr. Fleming built. ”

“H'm. ” Miss Cornelia pondered. “And this is the first time you have been disturbed? ”

“Last two days only. ” Billy would have made an ideal witness in a courtroom. He restricted himself so precisely to answering what was asked of him in as few words as possible.

Miss Cornelia ripped out a row in her knitting. She took a deep breath.

“What about that face Lizzie said you saw last night at the window? ” she asked in a steady voice.

Billy grinned, as if slightly embarrassed. “Just face— that's all. ”

“A— man's face? ”

He shrugged again.

“Don't know— maybe. It there! It gone! ”

Miss Cornelia did not want to believe him— but she did. “Did you go out after it? ” she persisted.

Billy's yellow grin grew wider. “No thanks, ” he said cheerfully with ideal succinctness.

Lizzie, meanwhile, had stood first on one foot and then on the other during the interrogation, terror and morbid interest fighting in her for mastery. Now she could hold herself in no longer.

“Oh, Miss Neily! ” she exploded in a graveyard moan, “last night when the lights went out I had a token! My oil lamp was full of oil but, do what I would, it kept going out, too— the minute I shut my eyes out that lamp would go. There ain't a surer token of death! The Bible says, 'Let your light shine'— and when a hand you can't see puts your lights out— good night! ”

She ended in a hushed whisper and even Billy looked a trifle uncomfortable after her climax.

“Well, now that you've cheered us up, ” began Miss Cornelia undauntedly, but a long, ominous roll of thunder that rattled the panes in the French windows drowned out the end of her sentence. Nevertheless she welcomed the thunder as a diversion. At least its menace was a physical one— to be guarded against by physical means.

She rose and went over to the French windows. That flimsy bolt! She parted the curtains and looked out— a flicker of lightning stabbed the night— the storm must be almost upon them.

“Bring some candles, Billy, ” she said. “The lights may be going out any moment— and Billy, ” as he started to leave, “there's a gentleman arriving on the last train. After he comes you may go to bed. I'll wait up for Miss Dale— oh, and Billy, ” arresting him at the door, “see that all the outer doors on this floor are locked and bring the keys here. ”

Billy nodded and departed. Miss Cornelia took a long breath. Now that the moment for waiting had passed— the moment for action come— she felt suddenly indomitable, prepared to face a dozen Bats!

Her feelings were not shared by her maid. “I know what all this means, ” moaned Lizzie. “I tell you there's going to be a death, sure! ”

“There certainly will be if you don't keep quiet, ” said her mistress acidly. “Lock the billiard-room windows and go to bed. ”

But this was the last straw for Lizzie. A picture of the two long, dark flights of stairs up which she had to pass to reach her bedchamber rose before her— and she spoke her mind.

“I am not going to bed! ” she said wildly. “I'm going to pack up tomorrow and leave this house. ” That such a threat would never be carried out while she lived made little difference to her— she was beyond the need of Truth's consolations. “I asked you on my bended knees not to take this place two miles from a railroad, ” she went on heatedly. “For mercy's sake, Miss Neily, let's go back to the city before it's too late! ”

Miss Cornelia was inflexible.

“I'm not going. You can make up your mind to that. I'm going to find out what's wrong with this place if it takes all summer. I came out to the country for a rest and I'm going to get it. ”

“You'll get your heavenly rest! ” mourned Lizzie, giving it up. She looked pitifully at her mistress's face for a sign that the latter might be weakening— but no such sign came. Instead, Miss Cornelia seemed to grow more determined.

“Besides, ” she said, suddenly deciding to share the secret she had hugged to herself all day, “I might as well tell you, Lizzie. I'm having a detective sent down tonight from police headquarters in the city. ”

“A detective? ” Lizzie's face was horrified. “Miss Neily, you're keeping something from me! You know something I don't know. ”

“I hope so. I daresay he will be stupid enough. Most of them are. But at least we can have one proper night's sleep. ”

“Not I. I trust no man, ” said Lizzie. But Miss Cornelia had picked up the paper again.

“'The Bat's last crime was a particularly atrocious one, '” she read. “'The body of the murdered man. . . '”

But Lizzie could bear no more.

“Why don't you read the funny page once in a while? ” she wailed and hurried to close the windows in the billiard room. The door leading into the billiard room shut behind her.

Miss Cornelia remained reading for a moment. Then— was that a sound from the alcove? She dropped the paper, went into the alcove and stood for a moment at the foot of the stairs, listening. No— it must have been imagination. But, while she was here, she might as well put on the spring lock that bolted the door from the alcove to the terrace. She did so, returned to the living-room and switched off the lights for a moment to look out at the coming storm. It was closer now— the lightning flashes more continuous. She turned on the lights again as Billy re-entered with three candles and a box of matches.

He put them down on a side table.

“New gardener come, ” he said briefly to Miss Cornelia's back.

Miss Cornelia turned. “Nice hour for him to get here. What's his name? ”

“Say his name Brook, ” said Billy, a little doubtful. English names still bothered him— he was never quite sure of them at first.

Miss Cornelia thought. “Ask him to come in, ” she said. “And Billy— where are the keys? ”

Billy silently took two keys from his pocket and laid them on the table. Then he pointed to the terrace door which Miss Cornelia had just bolted.

“Door up there— spring lock, ” he said.

“Yes. ” She nodded. “And the new bolt you put on today makes it fairly secure. One thing is fairly sure, Billy. If anyone tries to get in tonight, he will have to break a window and make a certain amount of noise. ”

But he only smiled his curious enigmatic smile and went out. And no sooner had Miss Cornelia seated herself when the door of the billiard room slammed open suddenly and Lizzie burst into the room as if she had been shot from a gun— her hair wild— her face stricken with fear.

“I heard somebody yell out in the grounds— away down by the gate! ” she informed her mistress in a loud stage whisper which had a curious note of pride in it, as if she were not too displeased at seeing her doleful predictions so swiftly coming to pass.

Miss Cornelia took her by the shoulder— half-startled, half-dubious.

“What did they yell? ”

“Just yelled a yell! ”

“Lizzie! ”

“I heard them! ”

But she had cried “Wolf! ” too often.

“You take a liver pill, ” said her mistress disgustedly, “and go to bed. ”

Lizzie was about to protest both the verdict on her story and the judgment on herself when the door in the hall was opened by Billy to admit the new gardener. A handsome young fellow, in his late twenties, he came two steps into the room and then stood there respectfully with his cap in his hand, waiting for Miss Cornelia to speak to him.

After a swift glance of observation that gave her food for thought she did so.

“You are Brooks, the new gardener? ”

The young man inclined his head.

“Yes, madam. The butler said you wanted to speak to me. ”

Miss Cornelia regarded him anew. His hands look soft— for a gardener's, she thought. And his manners seem much too good for one— Still—

“Come in, ” she said briskly. The young man advanced another two steps. “You're the man my niece engaged in the city this afternoon? ”

“Yes, madam. ” He seemed a little uneasy under her searching scrutiny. She dropped her eyes.

“I could not verify your references as the Brays are in Canada— ” she proceeded.

The young man took an eager step forward. “I am sure if Mrs. Bray were here— ” he began, then flushed and stopped, twisting his cap.

“Were here? ” said Miss Cornelia in a curious voice. “Are you a professional gardener? ”

“Yes. ” The young man's manner had grown a trifle defiant but Miss Cornelia's next question followed remorselessly.

“Know anything about hardy perennials? ” she said in a soothing voice, while Lizzie regarded the interview with wondering eyes.

“Oh. yes, ” but the young man seemed curiously lacking in confidence. “They— they're the ones that keep their leaves during the winter, aren't they? ”

“Come over here— closer— ” said Miss Cornelia imperiously. Once more she scrutinized him and this time there was no doubt of his discomfort under her stare.

“Have you had any experience with rubeola? ” she queried finally.

“Oh, yes— yes— yes, indeed, ” the gardener stammered. “Yes. ”

“And— alopecia? ” pursued Miss Cornelia.

The young man seemed to fumble in his mind for the characteristics of such a flower or shrub.

“The dry weather is very hard on alopecia, ” he asserted finally, and was evidently relieved to see Miss Cornelia receive the statement with a pleasant smile.

“What do you think is the best treatment for urticaria? ” she propounded with a highly professional manner.

It appeared to be a catch-question. The young man knotted his brows. Finally a gleam of light seemed to come to him.

“Urticaria frequently needs— er— thinning, ” he announced decisively.

“Needs scratching you mean! ” Miss Cornelia rose with a snort of disdain and faced him. “Young man, urticaria is hives, rubeola is measles, and alopecia is baldness! ” she thundered. She waited a moment for his defense. None came.

“Why did you tell me you were a professional gardener? ” she went on accusingly. “Why have you come here at this hour of night pretending to be something you're not? ”

By all standards of drama the young man should have wilted before her wrath, Instead he suddenly smiled at her, boyishly, and threw up his hands in a gesture of defeat.

“I know I shouldn't have done it! ” he confessed with appealing frankness. “You'd have found me out anyhow! I don't know anything about gardening. The truth is, ” his tone grew somber, “I was desperate! I HAD to have work! ”

The candor of his smile would have disarmed a stonier-hearted person than Miss Cornelia. But her suspicions were still awake.

“'That's all, is it? ”

“That's enough when you're down and out. ” His words had an unmistakable accent of finality. She couldn't help wanting to believe him, and yet, he wasn't what he had pretended to be— and this night of all nights was no time to tak...

Table of contents

• The Bat
• CHAPTER TWO
• CHAPTER THREE
• CHAPTER FOUR
• CHAPTER FIVE
• CHAPTER SIX
• CHAPTER SEVEN
• CHAPTER EIGHT
• CHAPTER NINE
• CHAPTER TEN
• CHAPTER ELEVEN
• CHAPTER TWELVE
• CHAPTER THIRTEEN
• CHAPTER FOURTEEN
• CHAPTER FIFTEEN
• CHAPTER SIXTEEN
• CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
• CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
• CHAPTER NINETEEN
• CHAPTER TWENTY
• CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
• Copyright