“I want to ask one question, Mrs. Cool. Did Mr. Belder send you to me? Are you representing him?”
“He wants to ask one question of twenty-five hundred bucks, cash!” Bertha said, and slammed the door behind her.
She sailed across the outer office, conscious of the curious eyes of the new secretary, jerked open the door in the corridor, tried to slam it behind her, and frowned with irritation as her pull on the knob was slowed down by an automatic door check.
3
A Friend and Well-Wished
Elsie Brand said to Bertha Cool, “Your man’s in again.”
“Belder?”
“Yes.”
“To hell with him. He can’t haunt the office. I only made my proposition to Nunnely yesterday. Give the man time. Belder came to get a report yesterday. Then he came back— The hell with him. I’ll go out and tell him where he gets off.”
Bertha pushed back her swivel chair, strode across the office, jerked open the door to the reception-room, and snapped, “Good morning.”
Belder jumped to his feet. “Good morning, Mrs. Cool. I want to see you. I—”
“Now listen,” Bertha interrupted. “We’ve laid an egg. I’m sitting on it. You can’t make an egg hatch any faster by sitting on it harder.”
“I understand,” Belder said, “but—”
“I know,” Bertha interrupted angrily. “You’re just like nine clients out of ten. You came here in the first place because you were worried. You thought I could help you. Then you go back home, start thinking about things, get worried all over again, and come up here to hang around and keep on talking things over.
“You wouldn’t think of going to a doctor’s office, getting a prescription, and then going back to haunt the doctor’s office waiting for yourself to get well. My time’s valuable. I haven’t got—”
“But this is something else,” Belder interrupted.
“What is?”
“What I want to see you about now.”
“You mean something new?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Trouble.”
“More trouble?”
“I’ll say it is.”
Bertha stood to one side. “That’s different. Come in.”
Belder was fumbling around in the inside pocket of his coat before Bertha had the door closed. He produced a folded sheet of letter-paper, handed it to Bertha. “Take a look at this,” he said.
“What is it?”
“A letter.”
“Sent to you?”
“To my wife.”
Bertha didn’t unfold the letter. She held it in her short, stubby fingers while her eyes regarded Belder with glittering concentration.
“Where did this come from?”
“I found it on the floor in the dining-room.”
“When?”
“About half an hour ago.”
“And why all the excitement?”
“You’ll know when you’ve read it.”
“You’ve read it?”
“Naturally.”
“It was addressed to your wife?”
“Don’t be silly. Show me any husband outside of the movies who would find a letter on the floor under such circumstances and not open it up to see what it was. Lots of them wouldn’t admit it, but they’d all do it.”
“Come through the mail?” Bertha asked.
“Yes.”
“Where’s the envelope?”
“I don’t know. The envelope wasn’t there.”
“Then how did you know it came through the mail?”
“Read it and you’ll see.”
Bertha hesitated a moment, then unfolded the sheet of paper.
The message was typewritten — direct, simple, and to the point:
My dear Mrs. Belder:
Perhaps I shouldn’t send you this letter, but I’m going to write it anyway; and then when I go out to dinner I’ll drop it in the mail-box or the ash-can. Right now, I’m simply writing to get it off my chest.
You probably will never know the reason I am taking this interest in you. I guess you’ll have to take me on trust, Mrs. Belder, and consider me an unknown friend.
You won’t like what I am going to say to you, but it’s better for you to know than to go on living in a fool’s paradise.
Has it ever occurred to you that despite the fact domestic help is very difficult to get, you are able to keep a very attractive maid? I wonder if you’ve ever stopped to think why it is that Sally has been so willing to keep on working for you, despite the higher wages that are being paid in defence work. Why do you suppose she ever came to work for you in the first place? And have you ever noticed that she’s a highly competent secretary? Perhaps you didn’t know she took a first prize in both typing and shorthand at her business college five years ago. And after that she sold things — got an even better salary as a food demonstrator than as a secretary — and now this very attractive young woman shows up in your house — as a maid!
Why?
Could it be because there are other reasons which make the job so attractive she’s willing to stay on, doing menial work?
Perhaps you had better ask Sally these questions — and when you ask her, ask her as though you already knew the answers. Don’t ask her though you were dubious, or merely suspicious; simply tell her to make a clean breast of things.
I think you will be surprised.
And that, Mrs. Belder, is all for this time, but if things turn out well, perhaps I can tell you a lot more.
I might even telephone you around eleven o’clock Wednesday morning — just to see if you’ve had your talk with Sally and what you’ve found out. And in case you have had your talk with Sally, and are willing to place confidence in me, it might be well for you to have your car waiting out in front, all ready to go places.
Doubtless you are surprised that a total stranger is taking such an interest in you, but despite the fact that you have never met me, your interests mean a lot to me.
You’d be very much surprised if you knew just how I fitted into the picture. Perhaps I can tell you some time. You see, there are reasons why I’m very much interested in you.
The letter was signed simply, An Anonymous Friend and Well-Wisher.
Bertha peered up at Belder over the top of her spectacles. “How about it?” she asked.
“Mrs. Cool, I swear to you by all that’s holy that—”
“Save that for your wife,” Bertha said. “Give me the lowdown. Never mind that swearing business.”
“I tell you, Mrs. Cool, it’s a dastardly, lying insinuation, a—”
“What’s the insinuation?”
“That the maid’s in love with me, or I’m in love with her, or we’re both in love, and that she got the job in order to be near me.”
“Good-looking?” Bertha asked.
“Yes.”
“Have you spoken to her about this letter?”
“No. I can’t get in touch with her.”
“Why not?”
“She isn’t at the house. I don’t know where she is. She was there last night. She’s gone now.”
“Does your wife know where she is?”
“I didn’t ask her. She has her separate room and sleeps late. I thought I’d better talk with you before I said anything to her.”
“What’s the maid’s name?”
“Sally.”
“What’s her other name?”
“For the life of me, Mrs. Cool, I couldn’t tell you. It’s something like Beggoner, or Bregner. I’ve been trying ever since I picked up that letter to think of her last name. I can’t.”