“As for her taking guests of even very ordinary caliber into the housekeeper’s room, having in a bottle of whisky and drinking with them and with the housekeeper out of large, coarse glasses — well, I tell you that I have never had such a shock.”
“I don’t wonder,” said Juan.
“It doesn’t sound like much, but it was just as bad as if I had seen Alma stealing, or hugging her own butler or something like that. The queer thing was, too, that the housekeeper sat with her hand on Alma’s knee.
“Alma is always kind to her servants, but in all the years I have known her I have never seen the slightest familiarity permitted them. The housekeeper is devoted to Alma, and has been with her many years. She is one of the most silent women that I have ever known, and the servants have told my servants that for weeks at a time they never saw any more of her than when they were called into her room to receive their orders and when she went through the house or the kitchens inspecting their work.
“Alma once told me that Mrs. Keenan had had a great tragedy in her life which was the reason for her peculiar manner. Well, imagine what it seemed like to see that solemn woman laughing and talking.
“The whole scene was so out of character that long after they had all left that room I just sat there in a daze.
“I told the housemaid that I was tired and would lie down and not to raise any of the windows or disturb the curtains, and then I lay on that couch over there and thought.
“It was growing dark and I had no idea of seeing anything more, but as I gazed absently at the window I saw that people had come into the room opposite again, and that time I went to my windows and looked carefully through the dusk.
“Mrs. Keenan was there and the Russian and they talked, and both of them drank as they talked. Nothing unusual to tell, but there was such an air of equality — and that woman, whom I had never seen raise her eyes in all these years — well, of course, she raised them, but I mean that she never seemed to pay attention to anything or anybody — that woman talked away with her eyes and her hands and her whole body, in a way that was not nice, like some rough character.
“For a moment I could have sworn that she was a bad person of some kind. And listen to this. Those two went out of that room arm in arm!”
“I… see!” said Juan, drawing a long breath. “Well, what did you do?”
“I? I didn’t do anything. I went to bed with a headache and laid awake half the night. Once I got up and went to my window, which is also on this side and looked out, thinking that I had heard a noise next door and sure enough, there was a light in the back bedroom window which is Alma’s dressing room.
“I was so worried that I watched it for a long time, and I am sure that I saw the shadows of several people passing the shade. You will laugh at me for deducing anything from such slight evidence, but I do believe that there were several people there — and that they were all drunk.
“Can you imagine what I felt? Drunken men in Alma’s dressing room at three o’clock, a.m. It would be different if she were different.”
“I… see,” said Juan again.
“Well, I have never seen anything like that since, but I have felt a great difference in Alma. She seems to have rather intimate association with this Russian whom I saw talking to the housekeeper in that familiar way.
“His name is Bravortsky and he is said to have been a major in the Czar’s forces. I have heard him mention the regiment and many details, but I never do remember anything about army or navy matters.
“Bravortsky is at the house a good deal, more often when the duke is not there than when he is. Once, when I went over to see Alma about some roses which we both have in our gardens the butler seemed startled when he saw me at the door, and I thought that I saw Alma run up the stairs; in fact, I could be almost sure that I saw her, and yet he said that she was not in.
“I am sure that I saw him look backward over his shoulder as if to make sure that she was out of sight. Of course, such a thing might happen at any time if a woman did not wish to see a chance visitor, but it is unthinkable that Alma should not see me. I think that Edith Hexter and I are her only real friends.
“When I went to see Mary Smith, a week ago, I did not think of presenting this problem to her. I often save any handwriting of celebrities that I happen to have, and as I had a number with me and wanted to see her anyway, I took them in, in person.
“What she wrote me as to her deductions about the handwriting of Alma, which Edith Hexter had just received, knocked me cold. You see, I had seen some things that would seem to give a good deal of color to that preposterous idea of Mary’s.”
“Not preposterous,” Juan shook his head. “When Mary gives her professional opinion in that slow, careful way of hers, you may be sure that she is not mistaken. I am sure of her.
“You see, the old system of identification by handwriting totally ignored the graphological deductions of character and therefore was often inaccurate, but the union of the handwriting expert and the graphologist gives a true result.
“I’m going on the premises that Mary is right, and that the woman about whom we are now talking is not your old friend, not the old friend that Mrs. Hexter knows, but a woman who has been substituted for her. Tell me if you notice anything in her appearance which is different?”
“N-no… I can’t say that I do, but I can say that her eyes do not seem the same. They are more beautiful, if anything, than they used to seem. Her voice is richer, too. She has more animation.
“All I can say is that it is as if you had taken rather a dim portrait and painted it in high colors. As I told you, what she does is not really different, but there is a little more impulsiveness about her.
“However, that which, to my mind, is most peculiar of all is this. Alma never cared for anything outside of her own home. She disliked sports, never walked except when in the country, and never set foot outside her own house after nightfall unless she went in a car.
“But lately I have seen her, on four different occasions, dressed very inconspicuously, leave the house after nine o’clock at night and walk away into the dark.
“Once I am sure that a man who had been standing at the corner of Hyacinthe Road and Camberwall Street turned and walked with her. I can only repeat that you would have to have known Alma to know how unusual such an action on her part would seem.”
Chapter XVI
The Method in His Madness
The butler tapped on the door at this point, entered, and informed his mistress that a young woman from Garrett’s Agency had arrived. “About the position, madame.”
“Will you excuse me a few minutes?” Mrs. Mason said to Juan. “This is an applicant for the position of housemaid. I sent out an urgent call to-day to several agencies, but none that they sent me pleased me.
“I don’t know this agency, but they supply domestic servants of a superior order and I suppose have sent the girl at this late hour on the chance of getting her in.”
“Wait a minute.” Juan was smiling mischievously. “Do something for me. See this girl in here, will you? It’s just a whim.” Mrs. Mason stared for a moment, and then laughed. “Don Jaime has only to command,” she said. “Bring the girl here, Dawkins.
“Now, what is going on?” she asked, as the man went out of the room.
“Wait; I’m not sure that anything is.”
The young woman whom the butler brought into the drawing room a moment later was an excellent example of the good servant. She was dressed with extreme simplicity, carried herself with modest assurance, and was not at all flustered.