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Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
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Mystery Magazine, 1 November 1933, with "I'll Win! I'll Win!"
SKIDDING as it swung through a huge gate, the car startled me into consciousness again.
It was with difficulty that I opened my eyes, the lids seemed so heavy. I rubbed them vigorously. I felt the glow from the friction and opened them wide, shutting them again just as quickly. Then I blinked rapidly several times.
But still that feeling of unreality hung over me. I saw my pumps below the tan silk stockings, as though they were miles away. Were they really mine? I moved my feet, and I saw the pumps move, too. Of course they were mine.
I felt a little shiver run down my spine. I was beginning to think more clearly. Why was I here? Why didn't I know where I was?
I put my hand in my bag and touched an envelope. That envelope suggested the reason for my presence in this softly upholstered limousine. But it seemed only a few minutes ago that I had come down the steps of my apartment house to enter this car. Now we were miles out in the country. It couldn't be that I had fallen asleep. What was it?
I knew now that I must be in some private estate—my destination, most likely. But how did I get there so quickly? I looked at the chauffeur sitting unconcernedly at the wheel. He seemed comfortable and not asking himself any foolish questions about the trip. I was plainly frightened, and I called to him wildly through the tube:
"Driver! Driver! Are we nearly there?"
He slowed down slightly and turned to me with a smile. He touched his hat respectfully. "Yes, miss; there's the house, just beyond those trees."
"Well, what time is it?"
With a shake of his head he called back: "Sorry, miss, but my watch has stopped." He smiled again, but I couldn't help thinking his words were not as frank as his smile.
I looked about and exclaimed with an involuntary start. Some distance ahead loomed a house. Was it my foggy mentality or the inability of my eyes to focus properly? As I looked at that pile of dark stone silhouetted against a grove of old pines it seemed to possess a sinister vitality.
What was it—a mortar mixture turned out by Mephistopheles, possessed of an evil enchantment that held each big brown stone in its hard and cruel tenacity? For all the world that house looked like a thing of hate!
The central section was two stories high, two windows cut into the wall of the second floor on either side of the great entrance below. A limit midway, in the centre of the building, was a long, narrow window, most likely lighting up a winding staircase. On the first floor was a wide door—and no windows. Wings had been added on either side, and where these wings joined the house were lowers, higher than the house itself or the wings, which were still lower than the main central pile.
Through my dulled vision it looked like an evil head. The towers suggested horns.
Only once before had I ever seen anything just like it That also had been on the North Shore. It had been a houseboat in the harbor of Narrowport, anchored for a season, and its windows were arranged so grotesquely that when the wind swung the bow northwest it seemed to me, coming up the harbor in my little motor-boat, like the head of a huge sea serpent, green and white, waiting patiently to devour me.
I looked at that door intently and shuddered. I turned quickly to look at the chauffeur. He seemed quite calm and unaffected.
We came gradually to a stop, not directly in front of the house. The road did not wind up in front of it, but around at the side. Nevertheless he stopped. I gathered up my handbag and stepped out of the car as the chauffeur opened the door. He took my arm deferentially, and I was about to remonstrate at his excessive attention. Instead. I felt glad of the service. I felt giddy. My legs almost refused to support me.
"Why—why—this is silly of me!" I stammered. "I must be car sick for the first time in my life, or faint. It has conic over me so suddenly. I felt well enough this morning when I was getting ready." I looked helplessly at the man, who responded only with another encouraging smile.
"You'll be all right in a minute, miss. Professor Mentino will help you. He will help anybody who needs him, if he takes a notion to them."
I looked at him with a question in my eyes, then turned away slightly as I felt the hot tears of anxiety under my lids. I must be all right for the important night of my new play. It meant so much for me, for the producer, Oppenstein, so much for my future.
Steadying myself against the side of the car. I took out a little mirror. I was shocked. My face seemed altered, older. Dark circles were under the eyes, a haggardness had crept in where my youth should have glowed. I looked ill. What would Oppenstein say?
Swallowing hard at my dilemma. I tried to account for the change in my looks. Then for tire first time memory, or lack of memory, brought me face to face with the fact that I had remembered nothing from the moment when I entered this closed car until I was nearing this gorgeously dismal abode.
"I must have been ill—a long time—to make me as weak as tins," I suggested to the driver, hoping he would say something that would explain my queer sensations.
Hut he was reticent. "I was busy with the road and traffic. I didn't notice anything wrong."
Inwardly I doubted. Outwardly, with a nod as he indicated the house, I took his arm again for support, and we went silently over the pine-needle-strewn lawn toward the door that now I instinctively dreaded.
My mind could not have been working just right, either. At any other time the first significance of danger would have incited me to flee. But that door drew me, actually drew me as if by an impish power of the perverse.
I had an idea that I must see this thing through, no matter what game of life was played. To myself I kept repeating: "Comedy—or tragedy? Comedy—or tragedy?" How ridiculous for me to be talking—aloud, too, incoherently, and before this man!
I stopped a minute to rest. I felt like laughing, then like bursting into an abandon of tears.
Rubbing the toes of my shoes in the needles recalled memories of how I used to do the same thing when I was visiting Aunt Cassie at her old home after my mother died. I would rub the soles until they shone, then would slide on the needles. I even tried to slide now and stopped only when the driver looked at me in perplexity. I must try to think with some continuity, act with some dignity. All the time, too, I was; getting nearer and nearer that door.
I really became agitated when I stepped upon the low stone step. I paused, opened my bag, looked in to see if indeed I had received the letter which I remembered putting there. There it was. I knew its contents by heart:
My Dear Miss Rutledge:
Howard Penwarden tells me you collapsed last night at the opening of "Gold and Goldilocks."
Was I not right yesterday afternoon when I warned you of your weakness? I offered to help you then, and I still offer, if you will consider favorably the request I made.
Howard is heartbroken over your failure, is begging me now to write this letter of sympathy to you. Can you not reconsider your decision? I love Howard as my own son. That is the reason why I am interested.
If you agree I will make you a wonderful success. If not—well, there have been many falling stars since the world began.
Should yon care to talk it over with me again, please use the car which I am sending around at nine this morning with the driver bearing this note. He will see that you arrive safely at my place on the North Shore.
At any rate, the time will not be wasted. The country air will help you. But fresh air and change of scene are not all, my dear little girl.
Cordially,
Rafael Mentino.
I was afraid of Professor Mentino, afraid to go in, more afraid to stay out. I recalled my instinctive ear when I had met him at the Hotel Vandermore yesterday afternoon.
Howard Pen warden had many queer and fascinating friends. Hut the old professor was the strangest type I had ever met. His eyes had seemed to burn into my soul.
I was so nervous now I trembled. Then I thought of my collapse at the theatre the night before. I had started all right. Hut suddenly it seemed as if my tongue were paralyzed. I couldn't sing! I tried to dance. My feet would not move! Then, flinging my arms out wildly. I sank to the stage; then the curtain, back of the merciful curtain—a failure.
I thought now how kind Ralph and Aunt Cassie had been. Ralph, dear old Ralph, was the first to reach me with a doctor from the audience. I could hear him still. "Doctor, I can't understand it! It's not natural. She seemed in perfect health: She has always been so successful before!"
And the doctor. "H'm! It is strange. Pulse normal. Temperature, too. Nothing wrong. Just a—collapse. These modern girls—hard to tell about them. Nervous system strained to the breaking point might account for it."
Ralph was worried and showed it when Jake Oppenstein, the producer, came in. Oppenstein had been philosophical. "I'm sorry, Jobyna. There'll be another chance. I've told them"—pointing out toward the audience—"that you come on against the advice of your physician not to disappoint them. Hut it was too much for you. They cheered you at that. You've been working too hard. Go home and rest. Don't worry. There's no performance until to-morrow night. Just rest."
Aunt Cassie and Ralph took me home. "Just rest," echoed Aunt Cassie, then to Ralph: "I'm going to take her to some quiet cathedral for prayer and strength."
I looked at the knocker on the door and smiled to myself a forced smile. This was far from a cathedral, and Aunt Cassie did not even know that I was out.
My heart palpitated a vigorous message not to enter. Hut my ambition or success, the desire to please my manager, my vanity made my mind conquer the natural impulse. I turned toward the door again and lifted the heavy brass knocker. The moment I let it fall I felt irretrievably lost.
The door opened immediately. A Japanese servant bowed obsequiously and ushered me into a small reception-room in the front.
The air of the place was redolent of incense. It hung heavy and depressing about me.
This was a queer abode. Fundamentally the furniture was exquisite. But wealth and a perverted taste had veneered the room, veneered it with ill-chosen, exotic, fantastic objects collected from all quarters of the earth.
My throat was parched. I asked for a drink. It was not precisely soothing when the Japanese passed me a wonderfully wrought antique drinking mug of silver, in the shape of a dragon's head, with rubies as eyes. I laid it down, and my hand brushed the side of a mummy in a case. Grotesque faces, weird animals seemed to smile and leer at me from every corner of the room. I was uncomfortable, and I felt the perspiration oozing from me.
Soon I heard a shuffling in the hall. It stopped at the open doorway. Somehow I dreaded to look up. Finally I did so, compelled by courtesy.
Rafael Mentino stood before me in a long black gown that fell in dull folds to the floor. On his feet were unusual sandals of alligator skin, the toes raised slightly and ending in sinister serpent heads. I shivered at them, and as I raised my eyes I noticed the long, slender white hands slowly rubbing each other with a peculiar serpentine suggestion.
Then I saw his eyes again, magnetic, compelling. Did you ever see eyes so deep, so cool, so full of inviting promises that quite naturally you would let yourself go, would experience the same sensation as, naked, one parts the cool water of a pool on a July afternoon and feels the water close coolly about the body?
Suddenly my eyes closed. They were heavy. It seemed just as suddenly they opened. But how long I had had them closed I could not tell.
I saw a slow, pleased smile pass over Mentino's face as my gaze drank in those fascinating eyes. Strange, my fears had all left me. I felt better; felt stronger than ever.
I heard him speaking in a low, quiet tone. '"Ah, Miss Rutledge, you did not believe me yesterday afternoon when I told you I saw failure! I knew you needed help, need it badly now, to go on to-night—your last chance for success. Are you ready to let me help you?" He bowed gravely.
"But, Professor Mentino, why must I marry Howard Penwarden to get the help that you say you alone can give me? Can't you help me without that?"
He stood up, straight and tall. Slowly he shook his head. "See? You young folks arc all alike. You want everything. You give nothing. What is wrong with Howard? He is my closest friend. He likes all the things I like, even you!" He smiled a leer of a smile.
"But I don't love him, professor. I do love some one else. What better reason can a girl have than that?"
I could not help the starting tears, but he chose not to sec them. "Why did you come to me, then?" he asked coldly.
"Because I thought you might help me—might be kind to me." My voice sank lower with each syllable, expressive of the state of my hopes.
"You want to succeed, don't you?"
I nodded eagerly.
"Howard is brilliant, wealthy. You seem to like to be with him. What more do you want?" He shrugged.
"Love!"
"But that comes with success. I know." He muttered the last word. "Are you willing to give up love now for a future?"
I held my breath for a minute and thought. I could see Ralph's cheerful, handsome face looking with merry eyes full of love into mine. Ralph was my childhood lover. I had known Ralph as long as I could remember. For the last three years he had been begging me to marry him. But I was busy "getting on" in my profession. I was afraid that marriage would be too exciting, would demand too much of my time. Yet how could I give up Ralph for one for whom I did not even care? I wondered at my own temerity in coming out here, in even contemplating such a marriage.
"Was last night easy to forget?" Mentino asked it with the directness of a psychologist.
"Easy to forget? Oh, God, no!" I covered my face and wept bitterly.
Again I held my breath and thought. I could picture that sea of faces looking up at me—consternation, perplexity, scorn. I could see my name in lights before the theatre. They were taking it down. How could I forget the way I felt last night? It was too terrible ever to leave my memory.
In a frenzy of chagrin and disappointment I knelt at his feet. With clasped hands I implored him to help me. "I—I'll marry Howard! I'll do anything you ask. Only let me go on to-night; let me succeed! Let me redeem myself with Mr. Oppenstein, save the opera—myself!"
"I'm glad to see you can think. Miss Rut-ledge. So you will marry Howard. Good! Good!" He rubbed his hands as I sat on the floor in a whirl of chaotic thoughts at my decision.
There were other steps in the hall. I looked up, expecting to get to my chair quickly. I did not have a chance. Howard Penwarden had burst into the room with a rush of happiness.
"Jobyna! I heard! I couldn't stay out another minute." Howard took my hand, leading me toward a chair.
I studied him now with a new interest. He was slender, with dark, curly hair and a deep olive skin. Bright, piercing eyes of deep brown were now gazing fondly into mine. I lowered them in confusion.
Many afternoons during the last few months I had been with Howard. He had interested me in many strange things, in cults that had taken us to teas in the village and uptown, innumerable lectures on the mind, spiritism, the theories of Freud. He seemed brilliant and distinguished. But I had never been the slightest bit in love with him. His repeated proposals I had dismissed with a smile, had given them no serious thought. The last time he proposed I had said, "Howard, this is the fifteenth, I believe. Get a string of twenty beads, Coué beads. With such optimism you should win with the twentieth."
He sat on the arm of my chair now. "Jobyna, when is the little ceremony going to take place? Don't make me wait long, dear!"
I shuddered at his nearness. In what a predicament I found myself!
"Make it this afternoon." Mentino had spoken quickly. "Be a bride at your big success to-night!"
"Oh! Not so soon, Howard! I'm not ready. I have, oh, so many things to do and to buy first."
I was thinking of Aunt Cassie with whom I had lived since my mother died. What would she say to this hurried marriage? She did not even know of these visits. To me it already seemed ages since Howard took me yesterday to see the professor at his room in the quiet residence hotel in the city. He had wanted me to meet this eminent psychologist. He had told me of his wonderful powers, his wealth and his present retirement. I had not liked the man from the start. His presence, even yesterday, had inspired me with awe and fright. I feared him when he told me I was to be a failure. I did not believe him. I merely smiled. Even then he had impressed on me the offer that if I would accept Howard he would overcome my weakness, make me a star.
"But I am a star," I had insisted. "I have no weakness."
He had merely smiled, skeptically, that smile that struck terror into me. He had repeated the offer. Then I refused decisively. But when I left with Howard I had an instinctive fear of impending trouble, of danger hanging near me, of a darkness in the future.
My failure was the realization of these miserable feelings.
Howard leaned over me tenderly when I asked him only to wait. Of course I was flattered by the 'man's love. What girl is not? He did not answer, but seemed thoughtful.
Mentino was not so silent. "To have the success I promised you the ceremony must take place before you leave here." He folded his arms and scowled.
"But I have promised to give Aunt Cassie the afternoon, and, besides, Mr. Oppenstein is going lo call me up to tell me whether they are making any changes in the opera. I must rest before to-night."
An instant and Howard's arms were about me. He lifted me from the chair. I could feel his lips seeking mine. "Jobyna— please! I love you. I can't let you go—now. I'll have the minister here in an hour—less. Only say the word. Then Oppenstein and, darling, triumph and rest in my arms in the bridal suite at the Colonnade!"
He was smothering me with kisses. His lips were so tightly pressed on mine I could not breathe. I was suffocated. Oh, God! to be out of this house!
I could see the old man standing in the background, watching my unwilling wooing with a curious smile. The love-making in itself was disgusting to me. But to have an observer, and such a one; it was intolerable.
I struggled in Howard's arms. "Howard, go away. Leave me alone!" I squirmed out of his embrace with desperate strength. My breath was coming fast. I felt as if I were about to faint again.
"How many encores do you expect looking like that?" Mentino came up with a long mirror. I saw my own face peering at me in horror, white, terror-stricken, soul-sick. "You—a twinkling star! You will fail when you sing and dance the next time!"
Mentino seemed actually to enjoy my discomfiture. I drew back broken, ill at ease. I seemed dizzy. I clasped my hands in anguish. Tears were streaming down my face. I begged Howard to intercede, to implore the professor to help me.
"Surely, Howard," I cried, "I have the right to be won like other girls. Can't we be—just ordinary sweethearts? I'll marry you—yes—but give me time—a few days, please!"
I laid my hand on his shoulder in my anxiety. He misunderstood. "You are mine—now! You have promised and I'll have no backing out when you leave me. I love you; I need you; I want you. You will love me—and be my wife before that performance!"
His body was trembling violently in the intensity of his emotions. He pressed me close to him.
I don't know what would have happened, but Mentino took his arm. With a cry of fear more than hope I sprang away, ran through the room, dashed for the door. The mechanism was simple. It opened easily.
I was out in the open. I was breathing the fresh air again.
"Help! Help!" I called.
No one came.
I ran over the pine-needle-strewn bit of lawn in the direction over the knoll where I had left the car. Thank Heaven! It was still there. By it the chauffeur was standing, seemingly examining the tires. He straightened up as soon as he saw me, opening the door.
I asked him nothing; I jumped in. "Drive me home—quick!"
He nodded. Out of the long rear window I could see Howard Pen warden and Mentino. It seemed that Mentino was signaling to the driver, who answered.
"Don't let them come up! Don't I Please!" I was hoarse. "Take me home!"
Again the driver smiled that smile with its frankness that I knew was false. The car moved faster.
I knew nothing more until we came to a sudden halt. I looked out. There was the apartment I had left, how many hours ago? I got out. I managed to get up the steps to the elevator.
The first thing I saw intelligibly was dear Aunt Cassie bending over me.
"Call—Ralph!" was all I could murmur.
Her motherly face showed her joy at my coming to. "Where have you been, dear?"
"When Ralph—comes—I'll tell everything. Dear Aunt Cassie! I need you. Get Ralph; tell him to come right away!"
She left the room. I could see that she was terribly worried. How good she had always been!
Aunt Cassie was my father's only sister and had been like a mother to me since I had come East. She had never married, and when my father died she was left practically alone. Since my mother's death she had seemed to live just for me. Her wealth had shielded her from the worries and wickedness of the world; she was a woman of the old school, devout in religion and orthodox, but with much common sense and humor. My profession had reduced Aunt Cassie to a state of constant shock. It was so different from anything in the life she had led.
I could hear Aunt Cassie over the telephone importuning Ralph to hurry. While I waited for her I saw the morning papers on the table. What had the critics said? I swallowed hard and forced myself to turn to the dramatic news.
In large type in the Recorder I read:
JOBYNA RUTLEDGE COLLAPSES IN SECOND ACT
and the subheading.
Producer Oppenstein Explains Swoon in
Spectacle "Dance of the Stars" Due to Illness."
Skimming over it, some lines stood out more terribly than others. My favorite woman critic wrote:
Pretty little Jobyna Rutledge, the new stage beauty and dancer, fainted just as the portals of fame were opening for her last night. It was a tragedy to me, for I have always loved her. She is inimitable on her toes, a sprite, a fluff of thistledown. I wept with her. It came in, the second act, at her big opportunity. She looked dazed, uncertain, pitiful, and then swooned. She was so tiny, so beautiful, that I felt like climbing on the stage to comfort her as one would a sick child. To-night she tries again. It takes courage to do that. I am going to be there to see if she makes good. There has not been another show this season that I would place higher on my sign-post than "Gold and Goldilocks."
I flung the papers away from me in desperation. The big mirror reflected an almost unfamiliar face when I looked, or was it a wraith of myself? I was so white and solemn. I tried to smile. It was a forlorn effort. It made me think of Lillian Gish in "Broken Blossoms." It was a poor little twisted smile.
I was bending over looking at this changeling of myself when I fell two strong aims slide under mine, myself turned about and my chin raised gently.
It was good to have Ralph. He gave me more confidence than I had had all day. I had been studying my face so intently that I had not even seen him in the mirror approaching.
Aunt Cassie stood in the doorway. "That does me good. Jobyna! You ought to see your face—now!" She nodded at Ralph. She had always approved of Ralph. "You children must sit down, now. I want to hear, and I want to say a few things, too."
Ralph and I were on the big window seat. "Now, Jo." he coaxed, "tell me where you were, what made you ill again."
I shuddered at the recollection. "I don't know where I was—out on Long Island somewhere. I went to see a friend of Howard Penwarden." I started to tell of Professor Mentino.
"You don't know anything about getting there and getting back? Are you sure?" I shook my head dolefully at Aunt Cassie. "I never heard of such a thing, did you. Ralph?"
Ralph was bending forward. "I take it she has been 'put out' with something. It's happened before." Then he thought back on the story I had been telling. "You met him yesterday? Where? Who took you there?"
"Yes. I went to his rooms at the Vandermore with Howard. Howard said the professor was a recluse to most people. It flattered me. My interest was aroused and I wanted to see him, right after the rehearsal yesterday. He is a scientist, lives shut up on his big estate on Long Island. Howard told me most people feared him, even hated him, but that he was really only a lonely old man. He has no visitors from the village where he lives, no communication with the village, no banking there, apparently no marketing. AH the servants are strange, strangers. But he must be wealthy. The house and the things in it showed that."
"Jobyna Rutledge! What would your mother have said? To go see such an old reprobate as that, alone!" Aunt Cassie, like many good people, fairly sputtered in-indignation. "I wish I had my hands on Howard Penwarden, I would—shake him! Letting you meet people like that! The very idea!"
"Oh, Aunt Cassie," I remonstrated, "Howard is interested in science, psychology, many things."
"Yes! A regular dabbler in isms and isn'ts! Well, he needn't be interested in you any more. He's always carting you off to these Greenwich Villagy teas and things. He can stay away. Don't you think so, Ralph?" she appealed in her dilemma over me. .
I laughed. And it startled me. I had thought I would never laugh spontaneously again. "You're a German diplomat. Aunt Cassie. What do you suppose Ralph will say? Defend a rival? Don't worry. I've had enough this morning of my Egyptian prince."
"Egyptian prince?" Aunt Cassie was wide-eyed.
"Yes. Howard believes his is the reincarnation of some Egyptian prince, that I was his princess in that other life. He says that is why his complexion is so olive and his hair and eyes so dark."
"Hokum!" Ralph laughed outright. "Reincarnation—bosh! The trouble with Pen-warden is excessive smoking of Tutankhamen cigarettes. Egyptian tobacco makes him jaundiced!"
Aunt Cassie shook her head. "It's his liver; something wrong with his liver. Oh, I hate him!"
"But, Jo, tell me about it all, from the time you went to see this gazabo yesterday until Aunt Cassie called me up this morning. I think it's darn funny—not funny, you know, but—"
Ralph was holding my hand. I felt as though some force was flowing from him to me. I suppose I must have colored a bit. For an instant I raised my eyes to his. His love seemed to fire me with courage—and hope.
As I finished telling my story the door buzzer sounded. Aunt Cassie left me with Ralph. She did not fancy visitors.
"What's that infernal racket at the door? Aunt Cassie seems to have a fuss on her hands." She had been gone only a few minutes. Ralph moved toward the hall of the suite and I followed.
A strange woman, in red and yellow and green, all gay colors, and spangles, coins of gold about her, was gesticulating wildly. "The young miss, please, the young one! I have a message!"
"This is the second time I've told you to go away this, morning. There's trouble enough without you gypsies getting her all excited with your foolishness. Now go away; don't come back."
Aunt Cassie was trying to close the door, but the picturesque visitor had put her foot over the sill as soon as it had been opened. Now her ample body was a sufficient wedge to keep it wide open enough to give her a view of the hall. Her face lighted as she saw us. Her earrings jingled and her white teeth shone.
She called to me. "You will live long—live long!" The gypsy extended her hands appealingly. "Let me talk to you, please!"
But Aunt Cassie was determined. She did not believe in reincarnation, but this might be the witch of Endor. She took my arm, threw her light sweater over my ears, pushed me back into the sunny living-room, with a nod to Ralph.
"You have many enemies! Let me tell!"
It was not exactly reassuring. But I heard no more. Ralph had the woman in the outer hall and the door shut.
I was alone again with Aunt Cassie. "Mr. Oppenstein and I agree on one thing. There will be no more visitors. You must rest." Aunt Cassie sat down in a chair by the door as if to keep vigil. "Ralph says for you not even to go to the theatre until he has seen Mr. Oppenstein."
"All right. I'll be good. Only, while I'm resting, tell me about mother and father again. I love to listen."
"Well, you should. Your mother was the dearest woman I ever knew. She knew you always wanted to sing and to dance. She saw your ability when you were a little tot the others called 'Happy.' She helped to train you; got the best teachers on the Coast. Then, just as you began to show promise, she died. That was when I brought you East."
I nodded. I remembered my mother's love and help only too well. "What about father?"
Aunt Cassie had idealized her only brother. "Galen Rutledge died while they were summering in the Tyrol, a short time after you were born. You were a tiny baby when your mother brought you back to America and went out to her old home in California, at Berkeley. Ralph's parents were your mother's best friends out here, as you know. Many a scrape you children got in." Aunt Cassie smiled.
"Yes. I was always getting into things, and he had to get us out."
Aunt Cassie continued: "Your mother was never quite satisfied about the circumstances of the death of your father. It happened after a tedious and exhaustive stretch of laboratory work which took him to Europe and finally to Vienna. There the results greatly pleased him. He told your mother that he had found what he sought. But he never told her just what it was. He said it would make their fortunes, though Galen had enough as it was.
"The next week he was killed. Three scientists had gone mountain climbing. Two in the party were killed. The guide said it was an unfortunate accident. But it never satisfied your mother. When she went to his laboratory in Vienna, examined his papers, she could find no results, no notes, nothing to show for all the months of experimenting. She thought the notes might have been lost in the fall down the ravine. It was so indefinite and distressing. But your mother could do nothing. There was nothing but to accept it."
"Poor dad! He was almost like myself—only I didn't die. Just as success came he was lolled. And just as my big chance comes—I collapse. They say daughters take after their fathers. I think it's true." I felt melancholy.
"You are talking nonsense. You have no right to talk about failure until after tonight. Only twenty, and the star of the most spectacular opera of the season, a fine man for a sweetheart—and you talk about failure. Child, you have the best part of your life before you."
I was glad to see Ralph come in again. "I've seen Oppenstein," he said in a tone that I could not argue against. "He suggests a rehearsal at the theatre this afternoon for the song and the solo dance. The musicians will be there by the time we arrive. He can't be there himself, but Aunt Cassie and I will be with you."
Again the feeling of fear at the mere thought of dancing that dance which I had believed I knew so perfectly. I had to conquer a trembling of my limbs even before I could leave the room to get ready.
I was quiet all the way to the theatre. I felt as if something was at my throat that made me almost incapable of speech. Aunt Cassie had one of my hands in hers. Every time I looked at Ralph it seemed as if his eyes were broadcasting cheer. I was angry at my own incapacity. I felt pulled hither and yon, unable to help myself.
"I'm not tired; let me start right away." I said in a resigned way as I rejoined Ralph after changing to the light gown in which I rehearsed.
He gave the signal to the musicians. The prelude to the dance was almost finished. Came my cue to go on.
I danced well enough until I reached the centre of the stage. Then again surged over me the faintness and nausea I had experienced the night before at the opening. I could not move my lips. My limbs felt heavy, lifeless. Out in front sat Aunt Cassie. I saw her start back in fright as I sank to the stage. Ralph caught me up.
He carried me to my dressing-room. "Ralph," I moaned, "I am miserable. What will they think?"
He laid me down gently on my couch, and I cried softly to myself. "Cry it out, Jo; those tears will do you good!"
I glanced quickly into my mirror. I was aghast.. If anything, I looked worse than I had this morning at Mentino's. I shut my eyes tight, refused to look again at myself. Then I heard Aunt Cassie whisper, "How is she?"
"Fine!"
"Fine!" I almost screamed it back in vexation at Ralph. "I never felt worse in my life! Do you know what it means to be a failure—a failure even in rehearsal?" I resented it, resorted to all the petulance of youth thwarted.
But Ralph was elated. At least his optimism was encouraging. "Next time you won't fail—you can't!"
I looked curiously at him. "You're an inspiration. Ralph.. I'm glad Mr. Oppenstein wasn't here. You make me almost want to try again to-night!"
"That's it. Fine! Sure thing. You'll succeed, too!"
"Ralph, you are a dear!"
I saw that he was looking at the door. There was some one there. "Come!" he called.
The gyp-y I had seen at the apartment entered.
"You—again?" gasped Aunt Cassie.
Ralph raised a restraining hand. "Trust me, Aunt Cassie. There is something I want to experiment with—nothing that will hurt Jobyna, something that may help her."
Aunt Cassie was so nervous that she hovered constantly about the gypsy. But the gypsy did not seem to care. She turned to Aunt Cassie. "Hot water and towels for the young lady."
Aunt Cassie was too surprised to resent the order. Ralph's assurance had shaken her. "I—I'll see about them!"
As for me, I was mightily interested in the whole proceeding. One of the assistants at the theatre supplied Aunt Cassie with the hot water and towels. The gypsy leaned over and smiled sympathetically at me. "Ma'mselle, please close the eyes!"
I did so. I felt a gentle hand brushing back my hair and the hot towels applied to my face. Then she spread over my face like jam a soft clay. It did not hurt; only it felt strange.
I heard Aunt Cassie exclaim: "Oh. Lord, have mercy! What have you let that woman do to her? Ralph I What is it? Are you yourself, Jobyna?"
I raised my hands and wiggled my fingers. It seemed as if every hit of my face was being subjected to a gentle electric shock. Every pore responded.
It must have been that way many minutes when I heard the gypsy say to Ralph: "It's all dry."
More hot water, a massage with cream, and she told me to open my eyes. Ralph cried: "Look, Jo!" I took the mirror from him.
I jumped off the couch and sang a few lines of the song I was to sing that night. My voice rang clear. I danced in my glee. My beauty had come back to me!
Aunt Cassie's face was a joke. "Oh, Lord, I thank Thee! A miracle!" Then she saw the gypsy rubbing her hands, smiling. That was too much. "It's not natural, Ralph. It's the work of the devil!"
Ralph laughed outright. A glance from him and the gypsy picked up her things and departed as silently as she had come.
A few minutes later we left for our apartment.
Either Aunt Cassie or Ralph were with me every minute until the performance. AH I heard was encouraging remarks. Every time I saw myself in a mirror I pinched myself to see if I were real. I wanted to know if I was as radiant as the mirror showed.
"Jo, you must keep saving. 'I'll win! I'll win!'"
"All right, Ralph; I'll win! I'll win!"
It was too much for Aunt Cassie. "Prayer is the best thing. Pray for strength. Jobyna, and believe that the Lord will give it to you!"
"But, Aunt Cassie," defended Ralph at her tone, "what I'm telling Jo is only psychology."
"It may be psychology, but Jesus was the first psychologist. You can't get around that, Ralph." Aunt Cassie delivered her dictum with finality. "You can say, 'I'll win! I'll win!' But I'll say. 'God help her! God help her!'"
We laughed. The atmosphere, believe it or not, seemed charged with success.
"Go on to-night, as usual." Ralph was reluctantly leaving. "I'll be in the box with Aunt Cassie. Don't even look at any one but Aunt Cassie and me."
I promised.
Aunt Cassie and I went to the theatre after a light supper. I saw no one in the dressing-room except my maid, the manager, and Aunt Cassie.
It is true I winced at the looks of sympathy I received and squared my shoulders each time. I was full of fight and determination. I felt physically fit. Oh, God, if it only would continue! I saw whispering and shrugging of shoulders. Rut I took offense at nothing. I was determined not to do so. I felt that there was a general air of expectancy among the cast that I would not succeed again. I made my mind determine to rise above it.
During the first act I had little to do and everything passed oil beautifully. So it had the night before. I could not take much comfort out of that. But I did not let that affect me.
The audience had cheered my reappearance. But I could not help thinking that out there, too, there was that atmosphere of expectant failure.
Just before the second act Ralph sent me a card. On it he hail hastily written, "I'll win! I'll win!" And Aunt Cassie had written under it, "Pray, too, dear."
I smiled. It was the only message I received, and I thought it queer. Always, before, many people had tried to see me between the acts. I pressed Ralph's card close to me and slipped it in the bosom of my costume as I changed hastily for the second act.
The music started. I took my position. I noticed every little item about my costume. All was correct. First I was to sing and then came the dance.
Now!
I ran lightly on, a little nymph dancing in the woods, yearning to be a star. I threw my soul into it. I was that nymph. I had ambition to rise, to soar, to fly, to settle finally in the firmament above. I forgot the audience in the intensity of my desire, forgot my fears. I just sang and danced and yearned. I was possessed of an ecstasy of joy. The idea to redeem myself had given me added strength, an added agility and nimbleness.
There was the Great God waiting to hear my petition. I sang my song pleadingly, easily, after the first little dance. In song I begged Him to take me up in the sky where the stars twinkled. I aspired to be better, higher, nobler. I wanted to have a soul! It was at the point where I flung myself prostrate and cried, "Nymphs have no souls!"
Then the rich voice answered: "Soul and success come with striving, with pain and adversity. Can you bear all things, endure all things?"
"Yes!" I cried aloud in my ecstasy and I danced as I had never danced before With wild abandon I skipped about the stage as the coveted message, "You shall have your desire!" thrilled from the sky above me.
Then came the dramatic moments, the dance in the storm amid flashes of lightning and crashing thunder, the awakening of love and my betrayal, the flight and stoning from the village, to the last wonderful spectacle of all.
I was in a deep forest. Stars were twinkling above me. I was dying of hunger and thirst. But I had a soul! I had suffered. Always my eyes were on the heavens. My garments were rags.
Suddenly, from above, boomed the voice: "It is time!"
I felt strength flowing into my tired and weary muscles. I stood up, a rapt look on my face, arms uplifted. A star shot across the sky.
Over my shoulders now dropped a drapery of shimmering folds of silk. It gleamed and shone with the lights and iridescent trimming. New vigor came to me. I danced joyously about everything. I kissed the green grass good-by, the trees, the flowers. My lover appeared in the distance, was again enraptured, rushed forward to grasp me. But with a kiss blown lightly to him I was wafted to the stars.
When I reached my dressing-room after the many curtain calls, Oppenstein himself was fairly dancing. "I knew you could do it; I knew it; I knew it!"
Outside I could still hear the audience clamoring. Tears of happiness were coursing down my cheeks. Aunt Cassie was bursting with joy. Ralph kissed me before everybody. Everywhere were flowers and heaps of messages pouring in.
The third act passed quickly. It was difficult for me to slip away from admirers and friends after the performance. Ralph, Aunt Cassie and Oppenstein managed it adroitly, however.
Ralph had his car across from the stage, entrance. As he pulled out into the line of traffic from the curb the lights glowed intimately on the delighted throng leaving the theatre.
"Look, Jo." Ralph pointed to my name in lights above the entrance. "It's going to stay there!"
I smiled. But at that instant I saw something that froze my answer. "Ralph! There's that chauffeur! lie's wailing for some one. Let's watch!" I was trembling with excitement.
The chauffeur had left his car along the curb ami was entering a cigar store. Ralph pulled in where a car was leaving and we jumped out and hurried back to look in the other car.
There were two or three packages on the floor with the name on them, "Howard Pen-warden."
"That bird! I'll bet he's going out to Mentino's. Are you game to follow, Jo? I'm prepared for anything."
I could not say the same just now. I said nothing.
Ralph sniffed as he stuck his head in the other car. "There's a heavy odor in it, yet No wonder you didn't know anything, Jo." He leaned over and looked at the heater on the floor of the car. Then he smelled it. "Some one placed an overpowering drug on that heater connected with the exhaust. The fumes caused by the heat were too much for you in the back of a closed car. When these packages were shoved in some one, without thinking, struck the lever, turning the heat on again. There must have been some of the powder left. Hurry. Let's get back to my car. I want to follow this one. Don't let that driver sec us."
"Yes! I wish I had that Howard Pen-warden here. I'd tell him a few things." Aunt Cassie was militant. She bustled as if she would have shaken him.
Ralph smiled, but said nothing. "It will take more than words for Howard Pen-warden," I observed. "What did you mean, Ralph, when you said you were prepared for anything?"
"This!" Under the rear seat Ralph showed us a gun and a number of cartridges, a queer gun and cartridges, large, strangely shaped, not like any that I had ever seen before. He picked up the gun. "This will aid us to-night, Aunt Cassie."
"Not—all. The spirit of the Lord will battle for me!" It might have been sacrilege if I said it, but not for Aunt Cassie. She meant it, believed it. I couldn't help thinking how far I had strayed.
"There he goes back! Penwarden's coming out of the lobby. Now, Ralph, don't lose them in traffic," I cried.
They were off. Neither Penwarden nor the chauffeur saw us nor evidently suspected any such thing as that they were followed, for Penwarden spoke a few words to him, sniffed, opened the windows, then settled back in the car as if for a long ride.
We followed carefully. It was thrilling. Several times we almost lost them, but Aunt Cassie had her eye on that one red tail light and was able lo point it out unerringly. Traffic officers were few at that time of night, and we soon were past the city limits.
We didn't follow too closely and warn them by that. But I gasped every time I saw a crossroad, for fear they might discover us. Through several familiar villages we passed until finally Penwarden's car turned down a narrow road off the turnpike.
Now we had to use the utmost care. Ralph dimmed his lights and poked ahead slowly. Suddenly the red light ahead disappeared.
"Would you know the gate?" Ralph asked.
"Yes, I think so. Go ahead." I peered out eagerly. "Yes, there it is!"
"I don't hear that other car. It's mighty quiet. I think we'd better not ride very far in here."
Ralph ran his car into some shrubbery. We stepped out and a moment later were hurrying up the driveway.
Ralph leaned forward. "Here, Jo, take this. You might need it." Aunt Cassie gasped when, she saw the tiny automatic. I dropped it into the inside pocket of my evening wrap. The gravity of it all now, the mysteriousness of Mentino, and this suggestion of physical danger made Aunt Cassie strangely silent.
We felt our way on till suddenly the road swerved. There, before us, partly concealed by the pipes, was the house. We hid behind the shrubbery and reconnoitred.
No car was visible at the side of the house. The chauffeur had gone. Pushing ahead gingerly, we made our way through the pine grove.
Then it was that the house assumed the qualities of an evil thing. We had an unobstructed view of it. In the daylight it stood out like a homed head of Satan. Now, at night, the two front windows glowed with light in a manner such as to be positively terrifying. It was like one of those old optical illusions—-the windows were the veritable eye-sockets of a gigantic skull, glowing at me with an unearthly light! A little more and with the jaws of the front door I would have imagined a sardonic grin.
In the distance could be seen the house where the servants lived, dark and quiet.
"The Lord protect us!" choked back Aunt Cassie. "And you say you came here—alone?"
I was too scared at the weirdness of it all to answer. Ralph warned silence and crept nearer. In spite of my uncanny feelings I followed. We found ourselves almost between the lighted windows. I shuddered. Would these walls open, crush us, swallow us, for our presumption?
With the peculiar, cumbersome gun he had shown us Ralph aimed and fired at one window, then at the other. There was a shivering of glass and darkness after each re-echoing shot, then silence.
Ralph did not pause longer than to be sure that there was no further sound from within. He worked fast. From the porch he inserted his feet into crevices between the stones, drew himself up to one window, now dark. Me forced the sash, shoving his hand in where the glass was broken to release the catch, and lifted himself in.
Aunt Cassie and I stood holding each other. She was trembling, too, from the excitement of it. I could have screamed. I heard a noise back of us—something crashing through the shrubbery!
The front door opened. I was afraid to look. Then I heard a voice. "Jobyna, come in—quick!"
The relief! It was Ralph. I did not even give another look at the crashing thing out there in the shrubbery, but with Aunt Cassie ran into Ralph's arms in the hall.
"Keep close to me! We'll have to hurry! It won't last long!"
Now I saw a light through the door of the front room again. Ralph had thing open other windows on the side. In spite of that I caught a strange odor, felt a terrible faintness seize me. I saw Ralph, now and then, cramming his handkerchief to his nose. I did the same. Aunt Cassie pulled me over by a window ami that revived my momentary weakness.
A few breaths of the clear night air. I drew my head in from the open window and turned to look about me. I saw Aunt Cassie now doing the same, bewilderment, horror in every feature. She seemed too overcome to speak. She nudged me and pointed at something. I looked, nearly fled from the room.
There, on a divan, sat Howard Penwarden, a laughing, gibbering idiot!
He was drooling at the mouth, running his attenuated fingers aimlessly through his long dark hair and smirking about in silly fashion. Now and then he would burst into peals of ungodly laughter.
"Ralph! What is it?" I could not get above an awed whisper.
"Don't ask. Jo. I'm in a hurry. I must work fast. He will tell me the truth now!"
I looked hastily about me. It was a different room from that in which I had been that morning, but it showed the evidences of the same mind, grotesque furniture, art objects, bronzes, shelves piled with books on the mind and its working, queer, scientific instruments of which I knew nothing, a gazing-ball, even a mediumistic cabinet. It all betrayed to me that we were in the den of Professor Mentino.
My attention was diverted from the room to Ralph's stern questions to Penwarden.
"You expected Jobyna to fail to-night, didn't you?"
"Yes! So did the professor. Ha! ha! Something went wrong somewhere! He was ready to kill me when I told him. Ha! Ha!" Penwarden doubled up, laughing, continued staring at us like an imbecile.
"Why did you expect it, Howard?" I couldn't help interrupting Ralph.
"You were hypnotized, and didn't know it. Ha! Ha!"
"Don't you laugh at her, you young villain. I'll teach you better manners!" I believe Aunt Cassie would have given him that delayed shaking if Ralph had not interfered.
"Tell me about it," he commanded. "How was it done?"
Penwarden stopped his insane laughter, looked dazedly at me as if trying to concentrate. "Why—why—when Jobyna and I went to the Vandermore first the professor hypnotized her. He was careful she should not know it. During the visit the suggestion was given her that she must fail in the song and dance at the opening of the opera. Then he commanded silence about himself. He told her she was to tell no one of that visit until after the opening. It was wonderful—the way she fell for it!"
I stood aghast. What a dupe I had been! Aunt Cassie put her arms about me. She saw how I felt.
"Go on!" Ralph shouted sternly at the half-crazed man.
"When she left," he continued, "she was herself again, but not her whole self, as before. She had forgotten in her conscious mind this commandment of failure, but she had a subconscious sense of impending disaster. That was the better. The command was in her unconscious!"
"I—I never heard of such a thing!" Aunt Cassie held me as if she were a charm against all the evil spirits of the nether world. "My dear girl!"
Penwarden sank back in his chair, weak, faint. Ralph did not seem worried about that condition.
"Hurry, now!" Ralph was pushing us out into the hall. "Get a breath of fresh air here. I want to tie that gentleman up until I am ready to take him away."
Aunt Cassie drew back as if the air in the hall were almost more polluted than the air in the den. There, bowing and smiling, stood the gypsy in the doorway from the outside. Her appearance in this place at that hour was another strain on Aunt Cassie's nerves.
"Go away! Go away!"
The gypsy regarded her with a tolerant smile and advanced to Ralph, who was leaving the den muttering, "I trussed him up!"
"Am I too late?" the gypsy almost hissed.
"No—just in time! The old man—next!"
Her white teeth shone against the bronze skin and red lips as she turned grinning toward us.
Aunt Cassie whispered: "That gypsy bodes no good! I don't trust her! Keep that gun handy, dear!" I put my right hand in my pocket and kept it on the gun in the folds of my wrap.
"See, Jo?" Ralph was bustling toward a like room across the hall. "Hypnotic suggestion made you fail, malicious, evil suggestion. Good, inspiring suggestion saved you. You won!"
The gypsy wagged her head. "And the mud!"
"Heroes and cowards are both creatures of imagination!" Ralph had his hand on the other door now. "Who imagines only success is a hero. Who imagines failure is a coward. Both are moved by the same power of imagination. Suggestion will do it." He turned the knob. "Hurry. It won't last much longer now. This man is our worst enemy, too!"
There was no one in the room, but all about were books and papers. There was a door up a dark staircase. Ralph mounted.
"Are you all right, Ralph?" called Aunt Cassie.
"Yes, these steps lead to a little room in the tower. Good Lord, here he is, on the floor. He tried to escape and fell, overcome. It's dark here. I'll carry him down!"
Staggering down the pitch of the stairway came Ralph with a man's body in his arms. He laid Mentino on a couch!
"Is he—dead?" whispered Aunt Cassie.
Ralph put his head down on the man's breast, felt his pulse nervously. "No—only overpowered. You will hear him laughing like an idiot soon."
Quietly, with a venomous quietude, the gypsy glided over and looked at Mentino. Then she nodded, not with a grin, though she showed her white teeth to Ralph: "I am right! I am right! It is the man! I have succeeded! Now—he pay! I will—"
"No—no!" Aunt Cassie screamed as a sharp little stiletto gleamed in the gypsy's hand. But it was Ralph who stayed its fall with an iron grip.
The gypsy was sobbing shrilly. "He no good! Wicked man! I—I know!"
I had been leaning with my back against a table desk, my palms outstretched behind me on it. As I turned my hand brushed a little notebook on the floor. Mechanically I stooped to pick it up, and as I did so my rye lit on the page where it had fallen open. Curiosity, woman's weakness from Pandora to me, made me look. There, written in a hand that I knew to be my father's, on the flyleaf next to the cover was his own name: "Galen Rutledge, M.D."
In my excitement I forgot everything as I realized that about me, from a safety deposit box, lay other papers belonging to my father. I seized them all eagerly.
"Aunt Cassie—Ralph—he didn't lose them down that ravine! Here they are—all my father's discoveries! What docs it mean?"
I looked eagerly over the notebook and the papers, all fingered, worn, soiled with the grime of years. Shaking in my trembling hands were my father's notes—some discovery, some basic patent, with Mentino's minor addition's!
I shoved them over to Ralph. He scanned them with one eye on Mentino, who was coming out of it. Aloud he read:
"I have found the secret of youth. To have youth and beauty the mind must be free. No body is older than its mind. No woman is older than her skin. Eternal youth comes with both—the inward mind, the outward appearance.
"I have found that suggestion stimulates the mind. And I have found what will stimulate the skin. There is a mud which I will name Beauty Clay which takes care of the outward appearance.
"For months I hare been stimulating suggestible minds by suggestion and making inward youth. At last I have the secret of outward youth in this mineral mud, a lava, here in the Tyrol. I know how it can be prepared to make fading beauty radiant and attractive and I have succeeded in doing so. All my theories arc carefully explained in the following notes. There is no chance for failure. I have tried it—and it succeeds."
Mentino laughed, the laugh of a devil. His mirth was uncanny. It sent chills down my spine, but the eyes that I had formerly feared held no terror for me now.
Rocking back and forth in his mirth, Mentino looked mockingly at us as we gathered about him.
"How did you get these papers, Mentino?" demanded Ralph.
"I took them from his laboratory that night after he was killed!" Again his laughter made me sicken.
"How did. Galen Rutledge die?" Ralph thundered at him.
"I cut the rope and gave him a push. I would have killed the guide, too, only I needed him to get back."
Aunt Cassie would have fallen if the gypsy had not caught her. She sank back in the big chair, weeping bitterly. "Galen! Galen! And we never knew!"
The gypsy flashed a look of hate at Mentino as she cared tenderly for Aunt Cassie. Aunt Cassie did not realize whose ministrations she was receiving. I looked in horror at the laughing wretch.
"What became of the guide?"
The gypsy started forward angrily, but Ralph warned her to be silent.
"I accused him; I made him flee for his life. I had to get rid of him. He was the man who owned the farm in the valley in the Tyrol that was worth millions to me. It was there only that Rutledge could find the mud that he developed into his beauty clay. His wife fled with him, and I took the farm. The rest was easy!"
It was the breaking-point for the gypsy. She pushed Ralph aside, seized Mentino by the shoulder and swung him around. She stooped over, peeked into his eyes and screamed: "Yes—look! Bianca comes back—for judgment!"
He stared at her, and fear seemed to grow on his face as if realization were momentarily pushing through the clouds that obscured his mind. An evil look came into his eyes.
"Bianca?" he muttered.
"Yes—Bianca—kept young by the mud you stole; able to follow you to ends of earth! I know who kill American doctor; I know who kill my Sandro—my husband!" There was a sob in her fierceness. "He die—exile—broken by fear. You make him stay away from beloved Tyrol!"
She paused. Hers were eyes that Mentino could not escape. "When he die I come back to farm as gypsy. You not know. Nobody listen to me. You rich; I poor gypsy. At night I bathe in the mud. So I keep young. All time I see you richer and richer, and I think my poor Sandro die, alone, hunger, sickness of heart, far away. I hate you! I have curse you!"
Aunt Cassie was listening, amazed. Here was drama revealed in our own lives.
Suddenly Mentino saw the book and papers in Ralph's hands. He darted forward quickly, but I was more quick.
"Sit down—you—devil!" I had him covered with the little automatic. He saw it, made no move. He had no wish to follow my father. I kept the gun pointed at his head.
"Why you come America? I tell! You got letter from government of death of American doctor, eh? I know! I tell fortune one day government man. He write letter."
"You—" Mentino cut short. I moved the gun closer.
"You go Paris—make much money—with my mud. I follow! You get other letter—from me. Then you come America. You no think I can get here, but I follow—follow!"
"What about that, Mentino?"
"Yes. I came to America. There were millions of dollars here for me. All women want beauty, to keep beauty. Yes, I wanted American dollars—"
Ralph interrupted. "You found that some one knew that the death of Galen Rut-ledge was not natural, you mean. There was no other way out for you! Go on!"
Whatever it was there seemed again to come that same vacant, smirking look on Mentino's face.
"I had a son. I knew Rutledge had a daughter, now an actress. If my son and this child of Rutledge were married, it might all be settled, hushed up, to avoid scandal, but the girl had other ideas. She defied me—refused my son. I would see that she took him!" His voice rose in a hollow laugh.
The gypsy hissed, interrupting: "You always evil, no right to live! Things you do to minds of Tyrol peasants, those poor girls, in the science, you call it—ugh!—when I am through the world know! Bianca never forget—never sleep!"
"Go on. Mentino." Ralph stepped between him and the gypsy. "You might as well!"
"I am a mystic—an elemental. I determined to steal that girl's mind, her self, her soul!"
"God forgive him!" Aunt Cassie cried. "Such blasphemy!"
"I would steal her beauty, too, and then her voice. Failure would come to her. She would not marry my son. I did not care. Her father was gone; her mother was gone. If she were dead or insane my secret would be mine alone. No one else would believe—-But something went wrong tonight. I do not know what. I told her to fail the next time she danced and sang in the second act."
"Yes!" Ralph's voice rang out clear. "Yes, and that was why you failed. You did not know that there was to be a rehearsal. There was not. But we had one. Like ordinary criminals, you left loose ends. You forgot to tell her not to talk about her visit this morning. You remembered yesterday. But I got my clue, on my guard, from her story—to-day!" Ralph leaned forward close to his face. "Who is your son?"
"Howard Penwarden. That was the name of his English mother—Penwarden."
"Did he know—you were a—murderer?" I shrilled.
"No. He thought I had only stolen the farm, He likes money—wanted to help me keep it!"
In a flash I saw it all. Howard had sought me out, had talked on mental science, suggested morbid thoughts and studies to me, had given me books concerning death and communication with the dead to read. I saw it all. I was emotional, suggestible. He soon had me willing to visit Mentino, his father. Then the rest was easy. As I thought of it I felt ashamed of myself. How silly and futile I had been! Without thinking I let the gun waver.
There was a scurrying of feet. Mentino had tried to break away. But Bianca was ahead of him, ahead of Ralph. Stiletto raised high, she brought it down through the air with vicious force. But it encountered nothing—until it buried its sharp blade in a pillow on the divan.
For, with a scream of fear at the stiletto, at the same instant, with hands clutching at his heart, Mentino had sunk limp, down, forward, sliding off the divan out of Bianca's reach on the floor, dead.
Bianca looked from the stiletto to the huddled heap on the floor and cried: "I have failed! I swore to kill!"
Aunt Cassie by this time was on her feet. "A higher Judge than you, Bianca, saved yon from this crime. Your Sandro had vengeance. You must come—home—with me—for a few days'—rest—go to mass!"
Bianca turned to me. There were tears in her eyes. "Missy, we arc rich! You have half—I have half. I have mud farm—you have doctor's secret that make it right use! No more worry—justice!"
"Father's blood money!" I paused, revolting, almost on the point of putting her away from me.
"Take it, Jo." I felt Ralph at my side. "It is yours by inheritance. Build a theatre for yourself—anything. You can present the wholesome, inspiring—your part in the drama!"
I thought a moment. "Yes. Good. Something to strive for, Ralph." I saw the woman stripping off the head-dress, the beads, the coins, the trappings of the gypsy. She was really beautiful, with eyes and face softened by years of suffering in silence. I put my arm about her and kissed her forehead lightly. "Bianca helped. She must never leave us."
"Yes!" exclaimed Ralph. "Bianca told me her story after Aunt Cassie put her out of the apartment. I told her to keep her secret—it was better so—come here to-night. She knew the place."
"When you go honeymooning Bianca will take me to the mud farm; you will see a rejuvenated Aunt Cassie."
Ralph started across the hall. "I must get Penwarden. We can't hold him for anything. He—" His voice trailed off as he left, until a minute later I heard him shouting. "Jobyna! He's gone! He wriggled out of the rope!"
"Maybe it's just as well," I murmured, shrinking now into the hall from this awful room.
"You'll never see him again!" exclaimed Aunt Cassie. "Ralph, what did I tell you? God is on the side of the right. God has won!"
"Yes, Aunt Cassie; with the aid of laughing gas—nitrous oxide—yes. He won!"
Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
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