The Deep Lake Mystery

“Have you, in your talks with the servants or secretaries, learned any rational explanation for those strange conditions?”

“None at all.”

“One more question, please, Mr. Ames,” Kee said, gravely, “and then I have done. Have you, since the death of Sampson Tracy, learned of any incident aside from these strange conditions we have mentioned, that seems to you to implicate Miss Remsen?”

An obstinate look came over Ames’s face, and he shook his head, but it was plain to be seen that he was concealing something.

“You can’t expect us to believe that half-hearted negation,” Kee said, with a nod of understanding. “I know you don’t want to accuse that poor girl of anything more, but try to realize that what you think against her interests may be for them.”

“That’s a new way to put it!” and Ames looked a little bewildered. “But it might be true. You know in the story books the nephew is always overheard having a violent altercation with his uncle, but he is always proved innocent.”

“Who overheard Miss Remsen quarrelling with her uncle?”

“I did. I may as well tell you, for I daresay it is my duty. And it may, as you say, redound to her favour, though I can’t see how. Well, I was passing through the hall on the Tuesday afternoon, the afternoon she said she was there, you know, and the two were in the library. The door was partly open, and with no intent of eavesdropping, I couldn’t help hearing some words as I went by. Alma was talking, and while not loud, her voice was strained, tense, as if with deep feeling or passion. She was saying: ‘Please don’t tell Mrs. Dallas, uncle, please don’t! If you do, I shall do something desperate! I can’t bear it to have you tell her! She hates me, anyhow, and it would make her hate me worse! Uncle, I beg of you…’ I heard no more, as I went right along.”

“You’re sure of what you did hear?”

“Sure of the intent. I may not have the words exact. But Alma was very angry and Tracy very decided. I gathered that. And the speech I heard was absolutely as I have told you in meaning, if not in identical language.”

“Well, let’s come right down to it. You think Tracy proposed to tell his prospective bride that his niece had an affliction that made her uncertain of herself at times?”

“That is what I think. I know that Tracy planned to tell Mrs. Dallas something – and you know she declared that herself – so, hearing Alma say what she did, how can one help putting two and two together?”

“It may be as you say. But what about the theory that Alma is shielding somebody?”

“Who can it be? Only one or both of those strange old people who take care of her. And somehow, I can’t see her running her own head into a noose to save them, even if they are in danger, which, by the way, I haven’t heard that they are.”

“They’re not definitely suspected that I know of, but I’ve thought it might be that they were so upset by Tracy’s determination to expose the secret of Alma’s affliction, that one of them might kill him to prevent such a disclosure.”

“Ingenious as a theory,” Ames said, “but not very probable as I see it.”

“Why not?”

“First of all, would either of those people, capable of murder though they might be, cut up all those monkey-tricks that looked like the work of a diseased mind? Just the way to draw suspicion on their beloved charge.”

“That’s a facer,” Kee agreed, “unless they didn’t think of that, and only arranged the flowers and things with a view toward general bewilderment.”

“Not good enough. No, Alma isn’t shielding anybody, but she is queer, very queer. And the older servants, Griscom and Fenn, are worried sick about her.”

“They don’t believe she did it?”

“They don’t know what to believe. There’s so much against the girl. And there’s a rumour that somebody saw her over there that night.”

“Who saw her?”

“I can’t find out. One maid told me another maid had told her so, but Fenn came along and gave the girl a dressing down, and she won’t open her lips now.”

“Well, Mr. Ames, I’m grateful for the facts you have detailed. Every fact helps, just as every opinion hinders. Isn’t Miss Remsen now the owner and head of the Pleasure Dome estate?”

“In a way, yes. Legally, of course, she is the rightful heir. And as she is not under arrest, she can take possession if she chooses. But she says she won’t go there until this inquest matter is over, and then, I suppose if she should be accused and arrested, the place would be shut up for a time.”

“Hard lines on Mrs. Dallas,” Maud said, “losing her expected fortune and prominent position.”

“Yes, and no.” Ames smiled a little. “Between you and me, Mrs. Merrill, though Mrs. Dallas is terribly shocked at the manner of his death, I can’t feel she is mourning deeply for Mr. Tracy. I think Charlie Everett had pretty well cut out the elderly millionaire.”

“Well, that’s her business,” Lora said, coldly. “I am so sorry for Alma, I’ve no sympathy to spare for Mrs. Dallas. They can’t arrest the girl if she isn’t responsible for her actions, can they?”

“I don’t know. It depends on conditions and circumstances.”

“I hope, Mr. Ames,” I said, speaking more pleasantly than I felt, because I had no wish to antagonize him, “that you won’t feel it necessary to tell any one else what you have told us. Mr. Moore, of course, will tell the police whatever he deems wise, but I mean the matter needn’t become village gossip.”

“No, Mr. Norris,” Ames returned. “I have no wish to have Miss Remsen’s name bandied about. And now that I have told all I know, my own conscience is clear, and if not detained by the authorities, I shall go home. But I daresay they will keep me until after the finish of the inquest on Friday.”

Ames went off and his departure was closely followed by the arrival of that detestable little Posy May.

I cordially disliked the girl, and I felt sure she was bringing fresh tales about Alma.

Nor was I wrong.

The flapper swung herself over the arm of a big chair, and landed Turkish fashion in its depths. Demanded cigarettes and their attendant paraphernalia.

Then, with a solemn, owl-like expression on her pert little face, she said, “I have additional information.”

Keeley prepared to listen, for he had often said he gained more knowledge from outsiders than from the regular force.

“Yes,” Posy went on, “I’ve been inquiring round among the folks who live nearest to Whistling Reeds Island, and I’ve found three who have seen Alma when she was in her tantrums.”

“Look here, Miss May,” I said, hoping to trap her, “how is it that you or your friends you’ve been interviewing can see what goes on on the Island? I’ve been there, and it seems to me it’s so walled in by trees and shrubs that there’s little visible from the lake.”

“That’s true, Mr. Norris,” Posy spoke seriously, “but there is a place at the back of the house, a sort of vista, small, but open. I think somebody removed a tree or two in order to see out. If your boat is in line with that, you can see in quite plainly. That’s where I saw Alma when she was paddywhacking the old nurse, and that’s where my friends have seen exhibitions of the same sort.”

Posy had a quaint way with her, when she was serious, and somehow she gave the impression of sincerity in what she said.

Anyway, she had the attention of her hearers and she went on, excitedly:

“So, I asked the girls, and they couldn’t remember at first, and then the three of them said yes, they had seen Alma through that opening in the trees. And they said – one of them did – that she saw Alma going for the nurse with a croquet mallet. And the man – that’s the nurse’s husband – had to come and pull Alma off of his wife!”

“Now, Posy,” Kee looked at her sternly, “I don’t want these yarns at all if there’s a bit of fairy story about them. Do you know them to be true?”

“I honestly think so, Mr. Moore, because I made Ethel – it was Ethel Wayne who told me this one – cross her heart and hope to never if it wasn’t true. And Ethel is a truthful girl, anyway. Why, once she – ”

“Never mind side shows. Now, if you feel certain you have true stories to tell, get on with the others. Who next?”

“Oh, you hurry me so! Well, then I struck Mary Glenn. She is a very serious thinker, and she wouldn’t exaggerate a tiny mite, she wouldn’t. And she said she saw something she never had told anybody, not even her mother. And she wouldn’t tell me at first, till I told her it was official work I was doing and that if she didn’t tell I’d set the force on her. You know everybody is quelled at mention of the law and so she came off her perch, and told me.”

“Told you what? Now, repeat it as she said it, don’t embroider it any.”

“No, sir. Well, she said she saw Alma through that same gap in the hedge, and Alma wasn’t angry or anything like that, but she was throwing things into the lake. And the nurse was trying to stop her, but she couldn’t. Alma threw in her string of beads and then her hat and then her slippers and then a book she had with her, and then something else, Mary couldn’t see what that was. And all the time the nurse was saying, ‘Now, Miss Alma – oh, please be good, Miss Alma,’ and like that. So, if Alma Remsen isn’t off her head, I don’t know who is!”