The House Opposite: A Mystery

“Your husband has found such a hat?”

“Yes, yes; I tell you. ’e make une scenes about zat ’at!” she burst out, angrily.

“But why?” I asked. “Why should he make a scene about it?”

“Ah!” she said, tossing her head coquettishly, though real annoyance still lingered in her voice, “’e say it is ze ’at of my lover!”

“Really? Have you a lover whose initials are A. B.?”

“I ’ave no lover at all, Meestair! but I ’ave a cousin whose names begin vis zose letters.”

“I see; but how did your husband happen to get his hat?”

“I not know; Argot ’e come in von evenin’–”

“What evening?” I interrupted.

“Tuesday evening, las’ veek—” I suppose my face betrayed my excitement, for she stopped and asked, anxiously: “Vat is ze matter?”

“Nothing, nothing! go on; I am merely much interested in your story. Well, what happened on Tuesday?”

“Vell, Meestair,” she resumed, “my ’usban’ ’e go out to ze restaurant vere ze Frenchmens zey go play cards. Zen my cousin, M. Andrè Besnard, ’e come to call. My ’usban’ ’e not zere, but I say, sit down; perhaps Argot ’e come in. My cousin ’e live in Chicago; ’e never seen my ’usban’; ’e not know ’e jealous. So ’e stay, ana ’e stay, an ve talks of France, ven ve vas chil’ren, and I forgets ze time, till I ’ears ze bell vat my ’usban’ ’e ring, ana I looks at ze clocks an I see it say eleven. Zen I frightened. I know Argot dreadful angry if ’e fin’ a man so late vis me. So I say, go avay, quick; my ’usban’ ’e jealous; ’e no believe you my cousin. Go up ze stairs an’ ’ide on ze next floor. Ven my ’usban’ ’e come in, I shut ze kitchen door, and zen you can come down and go out. All vould ’ave been vell if ’e done zis, but zat imbecile ’e peeped over ze bannisters ven my ’usban’ come in. But my ’usban’ not quite sure ’e see somebody, so ’e say nossing, but ven I shut ze kitchen door ’e sit near it an’ listen, and in a few minutes I ’ears creek, creek, an’ ’e ’ears it, too; an’ ’e jumps up, and I jumps up, for I afraid ’e kill my cousin; ’e look so angry. An’ I puts my arms quite around ’im an’ ’e fights, but I hold on, an’ ’e falls vis me, an’ so I got my bruises; but I no care, for I ’ears ze front door slam, so I knows Andrè is safe. In a minute my ’usban’ he up and rushes out, an’ me too; but ven I see Andrè is gone, I come back, but Argot ’e not come back.”

“Your husband did not come back, you say?”

“No; ’e stay looking for Andrè–”

“How long was it before he came in again?”

“Ah! I not know,” she exclaimed, impatiently, “’alf an hour, vone hour; me get tired an’ I go to bed. Ven Argot ’e come in ’e terribly angry; ’e storm; ’e rage; ’e say, zat vas your lover; I say, no; zat vas nobody I knows. But hélas, I am unfortunate, for ’e find Andrè’s card vat ’e left, for Andrè quite ze gentleman; zen, I sink, ’e have a fit; ’e swear ’e kill Andrè. But ’e not know vere Andrè is, because zere is no address on ze cards, but I know vere ’e is, for Andrè ’e told me. So ze next mornin’ I writes to my cousin an’ tell ’im my ’usban’ ’e come for to kill ’im. But Argot ’e go out every day to try an’ fin’ ’im. And ’e not fin’ im,” she wound up, triumphantly, “because a friend of mine she tell me zat Andrè ’ave left New York an’ ’ave gone back to Chicago.”

“Did your cousin look much like the corpse?”

“Ah, but not at all. My cousin ’e little man vid no beard, for ’e is a vaitor.”

“And you are sure your husband did not know him by sight.”

“But certain,” she asserted, vehemently.

“And you have no idea how your husband got hold of his hat?”

“No, Meestair, for I t’ought zat Andrè ’e took ’is ’at. An’ Argot ’e say nossing about it till vone day–”

“What day?” I interrupted, again.

“Oh! vat zat matter? Thursday or Friday of last veek, I sinks. Vell, I come into the kitchen and zere is my ’usban’ vis zat ’at. An’ ’e glares at me. I no understand; I say, Vat you got? Vy don’t you sit down, an’ take off your at? ’e say, it is not my ’at; it ’as A. B. inside it, an’ I vill vear it till I can bring you ze ’ead of zis A. B.; zis charming cousin whom you love so much. Yes! vait only, an’ you shall have it, an’ zen you shall vatch it rot!! And you dare say nossing—nossing,—for you be afraid ve gets ’anged for murder. But I say it no murder to kill ze lover of my vife. I say, Argot, you crazy; vere you get zat ’at? ’e say, Never min’.”

“Aren’t you afraid to stay with your husband? In one of his fits of insane jealousy he might kill you.”

“Oh, no,” she assured me; “’e beat me, but ’e no kill me; ’e love me too much. It make ’im too sad if I die. But tell me vy Andrè ’e send ze police for ’is ’at?”

Before I could answer her, I heard a crash in the hall, and two voices raised in vehement altercation. One of the voices belonged to my boy; the other, I didn’t recognise.

“My ’usban’,” whispered Madame Argot; “’e kill you.”

She was as pale as death, and trembling with terror.

“No, you don’t, sir; no, you don’t,” I heard the boy say. “Nobody goes into the Doctor’s office, without being announced, while I’m here.”

I rushed to the door leading into the hall, and had only just time to turn the key before a heavy mass was hurled against it. Luckily, the door was pretty solid, but it couldn’t stand many such onslaughts. Quickly locking the other one, which opened into the waiting-room, I turned back to Madame Argot. What was to be done with her? For I was far from sharing her belief in her own safety. My office has only one other means of exit, as you know. This is a third door leading to my bed-room and bath-room. I decided at once that it was useless trying to hide Madame in either of these places. Any moment the door might give way before her husband’s insane strength, and, then, it would infuriate him still more to find his wife in such a compromising position. No, the window, which opened on a small court, was our only hope. It was not a big drop to the ground, and, once there, she could easily make her way to the street, through the janitor’s apartment. Without a word, I seized her and dragged her to the window.

“Put your feet out,” I whispered; “give me your hands, and now let yourself go. It won’t hurt you, and you will be able to escape through the basement.”

“I cannot; I am afraid,” she murmured, drawing back.

A pistol shot rang out, followed by the sound of splintering wood. I had no time to turn around, and see what had happened.

“Jump at once,” I commanded.

She obeyed, almost unconscious from fear. She was pretty heavy, and very nearly had me out, too, but I managed to draw back, although the exertion was such that my arms ached for several hours afterwards. I stopped a moment to close the window partly, fearing that if I left it wide open, it might attract the madman’s attention, and that he would be after her before she had time to get to a place of safety.

Turning back into the room, I saw that a bullet had pierced one of the panels of the door around which the fight seemed to be centred. A minute more, and it would give way. I rushed to the other one, and, quickly unlocking it, dashed through the waiting room, and caught the lunatic in the rear. With a bound, I was upon him, my two hands encircling his throat.

“Stand clear of that pistol!” I shouted, as Argot (for it was indeed he) tried to fire over his shoulder. A young man I had not seen before sprang forward, and, seizing his arm, bent it back till it caused a yell of pain and the pistol fell from the madman’s grasp. At this juncture the janitor appeared, and the four of us had little difficulty in overpowering the fellow, although he still fought like a demon. As soon as he was safely bound, I sent my boy to telephone for an ambulance. I now observed, for the first time, that Argot had evidently tried to disguise himself. An enormous pillow, stuffed inside his trousers, and several towels, wound around his shoulders, gave him the appearance of extreme obesity. So, after all, he had been the fat man, and the running footsteps had been his. Well, I was glad that one mystery, at least, was cleared up.

The young stranger, whose opportune appearance had, in all probability, saved my life, still knelt beside the prostrate man, and he and I, together, succeeded in preventing him from breaking his bonds during one of his many paroxysms of frenzy.

“Thank you very much for your timely assistance,” I said; “you are a brave man.”

“Oh, not at all,” he replied; “I am on duty here; I’ve been shadowing this man all the evening.”

We had an awful job getting Argot into the ambulance, and I confess I never felt more relieved in my life than when I saw him safely locked up in a padded cell.

As I was coming away from the hospital, I met Merritt hurrying towards it.

“Hello!” he called out; “is it all over?”

“Yes; he’s locked up, if that’s what you mean.”

“Well, Doctor, you’ve had a pretty lively time of it, my man tells me.”

“It’s entirely owing to your forethought, in having Argot immediately watched, that some of us are alive at present.”

“You don’t say; well, let’s have a drink to celebrate the occasion. You look a little white around the gills, Doctor.”

After tossing down my second bracer, I said: “Well, Mr. Merritt, how do you feel about your bet now?”

“Oh, all right,” he answered, with a twinkle in his eye.