The White Room

"Now then," said Calvert, when he and Tracey had digested this information, "what about the forged letters?"

"I did not write them. Why should I?"

"Well, you might have made up your mind to kill Flora, and then have arranged for me to be lured there, so that I might be accused."

"But I did not kill her; and had I written the letter to lure you, I should not have sent one to Miss Mason also. I could not accuse her."

"That's true enough," said Arnold perplexed; "so the key was lost in this room. Have you many visitors, professor?"

"Very few," said Bocaros, glancing at Tracey. "You often come," this was to the American.

"I do," assented that gentleman; "are you going to accuse me of taking the key?"

"The key has gone."

"That is as much as to say I took it, and killed Mrs. Brand," said the other, with a shrug; "but who else comes? That maid?"

"She only paid me a visit after the murder."

"Well, she can't be guilty. Who else?"

Bocaros reluctantly admitted that Mrs. Baldwin sometimes came.

On hearing this, Tracey looked disturbed. "Can she have taken the key?"

"Nonsense!" said Arnold decisively-"a fat, lazy woman like that? Besides, the person who had the key would write the letters, seeing that the key came in one. Why should Mrs. Baldwin desire to get me and Laura into trouble?"

"I don't know," murmured Tracey anxiously, and recalling Mrs. Baldwin's behaviour at the Hampstead cottage. "She's a queer fish. Then that locket with her picture-"

"I have seen Mrs. Baldwin with such a locket," said Bocaros.

"Oh, you have." Tracey, much alarmed, looked at Calvert. "I say, you don't think she killed Mrs. Brand?"

Grave as the situation was, Calvert smiled at the idea of Mrs. Baldwin in the character of Lady Macbeth. "I would as soon think of my having done it myself," he declared. "There is some mystery about all this. Can you solve it, professor?"

"No," said Bocaros. "I have told you all. What will you do?"

"Interview Mrs. Baldwin, and ask her about the locket," said Arnold, rising. "By the way, I must see Jasher. He may have made some discovery."

"He will be here this evening," said Bocaros. "I have written to him."

Tracey tapped his coat. "I have the letter, and will post it. In fact, now I have his address, I will send a wire."

"But how dare you take my letters?"

"Go slow, professor. I'm running this show now. We'll come here to meet Jasher this evening, and thresh out the matter. You take it lying down, or you won't get any money. And now, Arnold Calvert, Esquire?"

"We will see Mrs. Baldwin about the locket," said Arnold.

CHAPTER XXI

THE TRUTH

Mrs. Baldwin had been much disturbed since the appearance of her husband. In her secret soul she dreaded the return of the man who had treated her so badly. All these years she had kept her fears to herself, but sometimes she suffered agonies. For some time these had grown less keen, as Rufus not appearing she fancied he must be dead. But the head of Rufus had been seen at the window: she had distinctly seen his face, and she knew she was no longer safe. He could not touch her money which was safely tied up, nor could he deal with the land she owned. But he had a way of terrorising her which would make her give him whatever he wanted. He would spend the money, treat his children badly, leave her next door to a pauper, and on the whole make things as unpleasant as he knew how.

There is nothing makes a man bolder than fear. This is paradoxical but true. Under the influence of supreme fear, the most cowardly person will become brave to rid himself of the cause of terror. Balzac acutely observes that "The rebellion of a sheep is terrible," and in this way Mrs. Baldwin felt. She was a timid woman in reality and had given in to the will of the brute she had unfortunately married. When he went away-not being able to get more money out of her-she breathed freely. But now that there was a chance of his coming into her life again, Mrs. Baldwin felt all her old terrors revive. But she determined if he did come she would kill him. To this extent had her fear driven her. She was scared to death, and therefore was the more dangerous.

Had she been wise, she would have seen her lawyers and told them everything. As Rufus had deserted her for so many years, the law would put things right for her. As he had treated her with brutality her evidence would enable the law to arrange matters so that she would no longer live in a state of terrorism. She could get a separation, even a divorce. But Mrs. Baldwin was not wise. She was a slow-thinking woman, and the mere presence of the man terrified. If he came to rule her again, she would not have the will to go to her lawyers and tell the truth. She therefore took matters into her own hands and bought a pistol which she kept under her bed-pillow in the night and under the sofa-pillow in the day. She made up her mind that if he came secretly to the house, as he had done, and would likely do again, she would shoot him. She would give the man no chance of exerting his influence over her. But of all this she said nothing, not even to Gerty, who could not understand why her mother grew thinner and more silent. Instead of reading and eating Turkish-delight as usual, Mrs. Baldwin wandered about the house feeling every now and then for the weapon in her pocket which she always took when she left the sofa.

"I'm all right, dear," said Mrs. Baldwin fretfully when Gerty made remarks; "I have a little worry, but it will pass away."

Things were in this state when Tracey arrived in the company of Arnold. The two entered the room, being introduced by one of the twins. Gerty was away teaching an old gentleman to manage a motor-car, and Mrs. Baldwin was alone. As usual she was lying on the sofa, but no longer reading or eating sweets. She lay there a shapeless mass in her tawdry tea-gown staring at the roof. When Tracey entered she started and thrust her hand under the pillow. But when she saw it was merely her future son-in-law she sank back with a smile. However, the sudden start made her face white, and Tracey noted it.

"You haven't been troubled by Rufus, have you?" he asked.

"No," said Mrs. Baldwin, with a faint smile, "he has never been near me since. When he does come," her eyes gleamed, "I am ready for him-I am no longer the timid weak woman I was. How are you, Mr. Calvert?"

"Very well, Mrs. Baldwin. You do not look well."

"I have trouble. We all have our troubles."

"Say," observed Tracey, "I've brought Calvert here to ask a question about a piece of jewellery of yours."

Mrs. Baldwin sat up. "My diamond necklace," she cried, "where is it?"

Arnold looked puzzled and Tracey held his tongue. "I know nothing about a diamond necklace," said Calvert; "this is what I wish you to see-" As he spoke he extended his hand in the palm of which lay the round locket of pale gold which Fane had produced. Arnold did not get a chance of finishing his sentence, for the moment Mrs. Baldwin set eyes on the unpretending piece of jewellery she gave a loud cry, opened her eyes, and sitting up grasped Calvert by the arm:

"Where is he?" she asked; "is he outside? If he is-" she released Arnold and pulled out the pistol.

"What do you mean?" asked Calvert, drawing back.

"I guess I know," said Tracey, recalling the previous interview; "this locket belongs to Rufus."

"Yes it does," admitted Mrs. Baldwin, casting apprehensive glances at the door and window, and still grasping the pistol; "where is he?"

"Not here," said Tracey, and strove to take the pistol away. But Mrs. Baldwin resisted.

"He will come," she said, "and I must be ready," and with that she replaced the pistol under the pillow.

"What does she mean?" asked Calvert in a whisper.

"Never mind," returned the American much discomposed, "ask her about the locket. She's queer, that's all."

"The locket-the locket," murmured Mrs. Baldwin, beginning to weep; "I gave it to Rufus when I thought he wasn't a brute. My portrait is in it. I was a young girl-"

"Will you look at it?" said Calvert, passing the locket.

Mrs. Baldwin shrank back as though she had been asked to handle a snake. "No, I dare not. He has worn it. Did he give it to you; or," she asked vindictively, "was it taken from his dead body?"