Books: The Mayor\'s Wife
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Anna Katherine Green >> The Mayor\'s Wife
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"And what would you do then?"
"Tear up the carpet and see what is the matter with this part of
the floor. Perhaps we shall find not only that, but something else
of a still more interesting nature"
He was standing on the sill of what had been the inner doorway. As
I said these words he fell back in careless grace against the panel
and remained leaning there in an easy attitude, assumed possibly
just to show me with what incredulity, and yet with what kindly
forbearance he regarded my childish enthusiasm.
"I don't understand," said he. "What do you expect to find?"
"Some spring or button by which this floor is made to serve the
purpose of a trap. I'm sure that there is an opening underneath--a
large opening. Won't you help me--"
I forgot to finish. In my eagerness to impress him I had turned in
his direction, and was staring straight at his easy figure and
faintly smiling features, when the molding against which he leaned
caught my eye. With a total absence of every other thought than
the idea which had suddenly come to me, I sprang forward and
pressed with my whole weight against one of the edges of the
molding which had a darker hue about it than the rest. I felt it
give, felt the floor start from under me at the same moment, and in
another heard the clatter and felt the force of the toppling
cabinet on my shoulder as it and I went shooting down into the hole
I had been so anxious to penetrate, though not in just this
startling fashion.
The cry, uttered by Mr. Steele as I disappeared from before his
eyes, was my first conscious realization of what had happened after
I had struck the ground below.
"Are you hurt?" he cried, with real commiseration, as he leaned
over to look for me in the hollow at his feet. "Wait and I will
drop down to you," he went on, swinging himself into a position to
leap.
I was trembling with the shock and probably somewhat bruised, but
not hurt enough to prevent myself from scrambling to my feet, as he
slid down to my side and offered me his arm for support.
"What did you do?" he asked. "Was it you who made this trap give
way? I see that it is a trap now,"--and he pointed to the square
boarding hampered by its carpet which hung at one side.
"I pressed one of those round knobs in the molding," I explained,
laughing to hide the tears of excitement in my eyes. "It had a
loose look. I did it without thinking,--that is, without thinking
enough of what I was doing to be sure that I was in a safe enough
position for such an experiment. But I'm all right, and so is the
cabinet. See!" I pointed to where it stood, still upright,
its contents well shaken up but itself in tolerably good condition.
"You are fortunate," said he. "Shall I help you up out of this?
Your curiosity must be amply satisfied."
"Not yet, not yet," I cried. "Oh! it is as I thought," I now
exclaimed, peering around the corner of the cabinet into a place of
total darkness. "The passage is here, running directly under the
alley-way. Help me, help me, I must follow it to the end. I'm
sure it communicates with the house next door."
He had to humor me. I already had one hand on the cabinet's edge,
and should have pushed it aside by my own strength if he had not
interfered. The space we were in was so small, some four feet
square, I should judge, that the utmost we could do was to shove
one corner of it slightly aside, so as to make a narrow passage
into the space beyond. Through this I slipped and should have
stepped recklessly on if he had not caught me back and suggested
that he go first into what might have its own pitfalls and dangers.
I did not fear these, but was glad, nevertheless, to yield to his
suggestion and allow him to pass me. As he did so, he took out a
match from his pocket and in another moment had lit and held it
out. A long, narrow vaulting met our eyes, very rude and propped
up with beams in an irregular way. It was empty save for a wooden
stool or some such object which stood near our feet. Though the
small flame was insufficient to allow us to see very far, I was
sure that I caught the outlines of a roughly made door at the
extreme end and was making for this door, careless of his judgment
and detaining hand, when a quick, strong light suddenly struck me
in the face. In the square hollow made by the opening of this
door, I saw the figure of Miss Charity with a lighted lantern in
her hand. She was coming my way. the secret of the ghostly
visitations which had deceived so many people was revealed.
CHAPTER XV
HARDLY A COINCIDENCE
The old lady's eyes met ours without purpose or intelligence. It
was plain that she did not see us; also plain that she was held
back in her advance by some doubt in her beclouded brain. We could
see her hover, as it were, at her end of the dark passage, while I
held my breath and Mr. Steele panted audibly. Then gradually she
drew back and disappeared behind the door, which she forgot to
shut, as we could tell from the gradually receding light and the
faint fall of her footsteps after the last dim flicker had faded
away.
When she was quite gone, Mr. Steele spoke:
"You must be satisfied now," he said. "Do you still wish to go on,
or shall we return and explain this accident to the girls whose
voices I certainly hear in the hall overhead?"
"We must go back," I reluctantly consented. A wild idea had
crossed my brain of following out my first impulse and of charging
Miss Charity in her own house with the visits which had from time
to time depopulated this house.
"I shall leave you to make the necessary explanations," said he.
"I am really rushed with business and should be down-town on the
mayor's affairs at this very moment."
"I am quite ready," said I. Then as I squeezed my way through
between the corner of the cabinet and the foundation wall, I could
not help asking him how he thought it possible for these old ladies
to mount to the halls above from the bottom of the four-foot hole
in which we now stood.
"The same way in which I now propose that you should," he replied,
lifting into view the object we had seen at one side of the
passage, and which now showed itself to be a pair of folding steps.
"Canny enough to discover or perhaps to open this passage, they
were canny enough to provide themselves with means of getting out
of it. Shall I help you?"
"In a minute," I said. "I am so curious. How do you suppose they
worked this trap from here? They did not press the spring in the
molding."
He pointed to one side of the opening, where part of the supporting
mechanism was now visible.
"They worked that. It is all simple enough on this side of the
trap; the puzzle is about the other. How did they manage to have
all this mechanism put in without rousing any one's attention? And
why so much trouble?"
"Some time I will tell you," I replied, putting my foot on the
step. "O girls!" I exclaimed, as two screams rang out above and
two agitated faces peered down upon us. "I've had an accident and
a great adventure, but I've solved the mystery of the ghost. It
was just one of the two poor old ladies next door. They used to
come up through this trap. Where is Mrs. Packard?"
They were too speechless with wonder to answer me. I had to reach
up my arms twice before either of them would lend me a helping
hand. But when I was once up and Mr. Steele after me, the questions
they asked came so thick and fast that I almost choked in my endeavor
to answer them and to get away. Nixon appeared in the middle of it,
and, congratulating myself that Mr. Steele had been able to slip
away to the study while I was talking to the girls, I went over the
whole story again for his benefit, after which I stopped abruptly
and asked again where Mrs. Packard was.
Nixon, with a face as black as the passage from which I had just
escaped, muttered some words about queer doings for respectable
people, but said nothing about his mistress unless the few words he
added to his final lament about the cabinet contained some allusion
to her fondness for the articles it held. We could all see that
they had suffered greatly from their fall. Annoyed at his manner,
which was that of a man personally aggrieved, I turned to Ellen.
"You have just been up-stairs," I said. "Is Mrs. Packard still in
the nursery?"
"She was, but not more than five minutes ago she slipped down-
stairs and went out. It was just before the noise you made falling
down into this hole."
Out! I was sorry; I wanted to disburden myself at once.
"Well, leave everything as it is," I commanded, despite the
rebellion in Nixon's eye. "I will wait in the reception-room till
she returns and then tell her at once. She can blame nobody but
me, if she is displeased at what she sees."
Nixon grumbled something and moved off. The girls, full of talk,
ran up-stairs to have it out in the nursery with Letty, and I went
toward the front. How long I should have to stay there before Mrs.
Packard's return I did not know. She might stay away an hour and
she might stay away all day. I could simply wait. But it was a
happy waiting. I should see a renewal of joy in her and a bounding
hope for the future when once I told any tale. It was enough to
keep me quiet for the three long hours I sat there with my face to
the window, watching for the first sight of her figure on the
crossing leading into our street.
When it came, it was already lunch-time, but there was no evidence
of hurry in her manner; there was, rather, an almost painful
hesitation. As she drew nearer, she raised her eyes to the house-
front and I saw with what dread she approached it, and what courage
it took for her to enter it at all.
The sight of my face at the window altered her expression, however,
and she came quite cheerfully up the steps. Careful to forestall
Nixon in his duty, I opened the front door, and, drawing her into
the room where I had been waiting, I blurted out my whole story
before she could remove her hat.
"O Mrs. Packard," I cried, "I have such good news for you. The
thing you feared hasn't any meaning. The house was never haunted;
the shadows which have been seen here were the shadows of real
beings. There is a secret entrance to this house, and through it
the old ladies next door, have come from time to time in search of
their missing bonds, or else to frighten off all other people from
the chance of finding them. Shall I show you where the place is?"
Her face, when I began, had shown such changes I was startled; but
by the time I had finished a sort of apathy had fallen across it
and her voice sounded hollow as she cried: "What are you telling
me? A secret entrance we knew nothing about and the Misses Quinlan
using it to hunt about these halls at night! Romantic, to be sure.
Yes, let me see the place. It is very interesting and very
inconvenient. Will you tell Nixon, please, to have this passage
closed?"
I felt a chill. If it was interest she felt it was a very forced
one. She even paused to take off her hat. But when I had drawn
her through the library into the side hall, and shown her the great
gap where the cabinet had stood, I thought she brightened a little
and showed some of the curiosity I expected. But it was very
easily appeased, and before I could have made the thing clear to
her she was back in the library, fingering her hat and listening,
as it seemed to me, to everything but my voice.
I did not understand it.
Making one more effort I came up close to her and impetuously cried
out:
"Don't you see what this does to the phantasm you professed to have
seen yourself once in this very spot? It proves it a myth, a
product of your own imagination, something which it must certainly
be impossible for you ever to fear again. That is why I made the
search which has ended in this discovery. I wanted to rid you of
your forebodings. Do assure me that I have. It will be such a
comfort to me--and how much more to the mayor!"
Her lack-luster eyes fell; her fingers closed on the hat whose
feathers she had been trifling with, and, lifting it, she moved
softly into the reception-room and from there into the hall and up
the front stairs. I stood aghast; she had not even heard what I
had been saying.
By the time I had recovered my equanimity enough to follow, she had
disappeared into her own room. It could not have been in a very
comfortable condition, for there were evidences about the hall that
it was being thoroughly swept. As I endeavored to pass the door,
I inadvertently struck the edge of a little taboret standing in my
way. It toppled and a little book lying on it slid to the floor;
as I stooped to pick it up my already greatly disconcerted mind was
still further affected by the glimpse which was given me of its
title. It was this
THE ECCENTRICITIES OF GHOSTS AND COINCIDENCES
SUGGESTING SPIRITUAL INTERFERENCE
Struck forcibly by a coincidence suggesting something quite
different from spiritual interference, I allowed the book to open
in my hand, which it did at this evidently frequently conned
passage:
A book was in my hand and a strong light was shining on it and
on me from a lamp on a near-by table. The story was interesting
and I was following the adventures it was relating, with eager
interest, when suddenly the character of the light changed, a
mist seemed to pass before my eyes and, on my looking up, I saw
standing between me and the lamp the figure of a man, which
vanished as I looked, leaving in my breast an unutterable dread
and in my memory the glare of two unearthly eyes whose menace
could mean but one thing--death.
The next day I received news of a fatal accident to my husband.
I closed the little volume with very strange thoughts. If Mayor
Packard had believed himself to have received an explanation of his
wife's strange condition in the confession she had made of having
seen an apparition such as this in her library, or if I had
believed myself to have touched the bottom of the mystery absorbing
this unhappy household in my futile discoveries of the human and
practical character of the visitants who had haunted this house,
then Mayor Packard and I had made a grave mistake.
CHAPTER XVI
IN THE LIBRARY
I was still in Mrs. Packard's room, brooding over the enigma
offered by the similarity between the account I had just read and
the explanation she had given of the mysterious event which had
thrown such a cloud over her life, when, moved by some unaccountable
influence, I glanced up and saw Nixon standing in the open doorway,
gazing at me with an uneasy curiosity I was sorry enough to have
inspired.
"Mrs. Packard wants you," he declared with short ceremony. "She's
in the library." And, turning on his heel, he took his deliberate
way down-stairs.
I followed hard after him, and, being brisk in my movements, was at
his back before he was half-way to the bottom. He seemed to resent
this, for he turned a baleful look back at me and purposely delayed
his steps without giving me the right of way.
"Is Mrs. Packard in a hurry?" I asked. "If so, you had better let
me pass."
He gave no appearance of having heard me; his attention had been
caught by something going on at the rear of the hall we were now
approaching. Following his anxious glance, I saw the door of the
mayor's study open and Mrs. Packard come out. As we reached the
lower step, she passed us on her way to the library. Wondering
what errand had taken her to the study, which she was supposed not
to visit, I turned to join her and caught a glimpse of the old
man's face. It was more puckered, scowling and malignant of aspect
than usual. I was surprised that Mrs. Packard had not noticed it.
Surely it was not the countenance of a mere disgruntled servant.
Something not to be seen on the surface was disturbing this old
man; and, moving in the shadows as I was, I questioned whether it
would not conduce to some explanation between Mrs. Packard
and myself if I addressed her on the subject of this old serving-
man's peculiar ways.
But the opportunity for doing this did not come that morning. On
entering the library I was met by Mrs. Packard with the remark:
"Have you any interest in politics? Do you know anything about the
subject?"
"I have an interest in Mayor Packard's election," I smilingly
assured her; "and I know that in this I represent a great number of
people in this town if not in the state."
"You want to see him governor? You desired this before you came to
this house? You believe him to be a good man--the right man for
the place?"
"I certainly do, Mrs. Packard."
"And you represent a large class who feel the same?"
"I think so, Mrs. Packard."
"I am so glad!" Her tone was almost hysterical. "My heart is set
on this election," she ardently explained. "It means so much this
year. My husband is very ambitious. So am I--for him. I would
give--" there she paused, caught back, it would seem, by some
warning thought. I took advantage of her preoccupation to
scrutinize her features more closely than I had dared to do while
she was directly addressing me. I found them set in the stern mold
of profound feeling--womanly feeling, no doubt, but one actuated by
causes far greater than the subject, serious as it was, apparently
called for. She would give--
What lay beyond that give?
I never knew, for she never finished her sentence.
Observing the breathless interest her manner evoked, or possibly
realizing how nearly she had come to an unnecessary if not unwise
self-betrayal, she suddenly smoothed her brow and, catching up a
piece of embroidery from the table, sat down with it in her hand.
"A wife is naturally heart and soul with her husband," she
observed, with an assumption of composure which restored some sort
of naturalness to the conversation. "You are a thinking person, I
see, and what is more, a conscientious one. There are many, many
such in town; many amongst the men as well as amongst the women.
Do you think I am in earnest about this--that Mr. Packard's chances
could be affected by--by anything that might be said about me? You
saw, or heard us say, at least, that my name had been mentioned in
the morning paper in a way not altogether agreeable to us. It was
false, of course, but--" She started, and her work fell from her
hands. The door-bell had rung and we could hear Nixon in the hall
hastening to answer it.
"Miss Saunders," she hurriedly interposed with a great effort to
speak naturally, "I have told Nixon that I wish to see Mr. Steele
if he comes in this morning. I wish to speak to him about the
commission intrusted to him by my husband. I confess Mr. Steele
has not inspired me with the confidence that Mr. Packard feels in
him and I rather shrink from this interview. Will you be good
enough--rather will you show me the great kindness of sitting on
that low divan by the fireplace where you will not be visible--see,
you may have my work to busy yourself with--and if--he may not,
you know--if he should show the slightest disposition to transgress
in any way, rise and show yourself?"
I was conscious of flushing slightly, but she was not looking my
way, and the betrayal cost me only a passing uneasiness. She had,
quite without realizing it, offered me the one opportunity I most
desired. In my search for a new explanation of Mrs. Packard's
rapidly changing moods, I had returned to my first suspicion--the
attraction and possibly the passion of the handsome secretary for
herself. I had very little reason for entertaining such a
possibility. I had seen nothing on his part to justify it and but
little on hers.
Yet in the absence of every other convincing cause of trouble I
allowed myself to dwell on this one, and congratulated myself upon
the chance she now offered me of seeing and hearing how he would
comport himself when he thought that he was alone with her.
Assured by the sounds in the hall that Mr. Steele was approaching,
I signified my acquiescence with her wishes, and, taking the
embroidery from her hand, sat down in the place she had pointed
out.
I heard the deep breath she drew, forgot in an instant my purpose
of questioning her concerning Nixon, and settled myself to listen,
not only to such words as must inevitably pass between them, but to
their tones, to the unconscious sigh, to whatever might betray his
feeling toward her or hers toward him, convinced as I now was that
feeling of some kind lay back of an interview which she feared to
hold without the support of another's secret presence.
The calm even tones of the gentleman himself, modulated to an
expression of utmost deference, were the first to break the
silence.
"You wish to see me, Mrs. Packard?"
"Yes." The tremble in this ordinary monosyllable was slight but
quite perceptible. "Mr. Packard has given you a task, concerning
the necessity of which I should be glad to learn your opinion. Do
you think it wise to--to probe into such matters? Not that I mean
to deter you. You are under Mr. Packard's orders, but a word from
so experienced a man would be welcome, if only to reconcile me to
an effort which must lead to the indiscriminate use of my name in
quarters where it hurts a woman to imagine it used at all."
This, with her eyes on his face, of this I felt sure. Her tone was
much too level for her not to be looking directly at him. To any
response he might give of the same nature I had no clue, but his
tone when he answered was as cool and deferentially polite as was
to be expected from a man chosen by Mayor Packard for his private
secretary. "Mrs. Packard, your fears are very natural. A woman
shrinks from such inquiries, even when sustained by the
consciousness that nothing can rob her name of its deserved honor.
But if we let one innuendo pass, how can we prevent a second? The
man who did this thing should be punished. In this I agree with
Mayor Packard."
She stirred impulsively. I could hear the rustle of her dress as
she moved, probably to lessen the distance between them. "You are
honest with me?" she urged. "You do agree with Mr. Packard in
this?"
His answer was firm, straightforward, and, as far as I could judge,
free from any objectionable feature. "I certainly do, Mrs. Packard.
The hesitation I expressed when he first spoke was caused by the
one consideration mentioned,--my fear lest something might go amiss
in C---- to-night if I busied myself otherwise than with the
necessities of the speech with which he is about to open his
campaign."
"I see. You are very desirous that Mr. Packard should win in this
election?"
"I am his secretary, and was largely instrumental in securing his
nomination for governor," was the simple reply. There was a pause
--how filled, I would have given half my expected salary to know.
Then I heard her ask him the very question she had asked me.
"Do you think that in the event of your not succeeding in forcing
an apology from the man who inserted that objectionable paragraph
against myself--that--that such hints of something being wrong with
me will in any way affect Mr. Packard's chances--lose him votes, I
mean? Will the husband suffer because of some imagined lack in his
wife?"
"One can not say." Thus appealed to, the man seemed to weigh his
words carefully, out of consideration for her, I thought. "No real
admirer of the mayor's would go over to the enemy from any such
cause as that. Only the doubtful--the half-hearted--those who are
ready to grasp at any excuse for voting with the other party, would
allow a consideration of the mayor's domestic relations to
interfere with their confidence in him as a public officer."
"But these--" How I wish I could have seen her face! "These
half-hearted voters, their easily stifled convictions are what make
majorities," she stammered. Mr. Steele may have bowed; he probably
did, for she went on confidently and with a certain authority not
observable in the tone of her previous remarks. "You are right.
The paragraph reflecting on me must be traced to its source. The
lie must be met and grappled with. I was not well last week and
showed it, but I am perfectly well to-day and am resolved to show
that, too. No skeleton hangs in the Packard closet. I am a happy
wife and a happy mother. Let them come here and see. This morning
I shall issue invitations for a dinner to be given the first night
you can assure me Mr. Packard will be at home. Do you know of any
such night?"
"On Friday week he has no speech to make." Mrs. Packard seemed to
consider. Finally she said: "When you see him, tell him to leave
that evening free. And, Mr. Steele, if you will be so good, give
me the names of some of those halfhearted ones--critical people who
have to see in order to believe. I shall have them at my table
--I shall let them see that the shadow which enveloped me was
ephemeral; that a woman can rise above all weakness in the support
of a husband she loves and honors as I do Mr. Packard."
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