“Jerry Bodwin just called up,” stated Andrew, nudging his thumb toward the front bedroom, where the telephone was located. “He and Fanchon Callier will be here soon.”
“You talked with Jerry this afternoon?” queried Harry.
“Just for a short while,” replied Andrew. “Then I had to move along and arrange for the decorations. I made sure that nothing had happened to Fanchon. Jerry had a call from her while we were talking, saying that she would be late getting to the theater.”
“Did Jerry tell you much about her?”
“Only that she had a letter of recommendation from a theater owner in Baton Rouge. That was why Jerry gave her the job at the Luzanne. But he had met her before, here in New Orleans, when she was visiting friends.”
“Who were the friends?”
“Jerry didn’t know. He doesn’t even remember who introduced him to her. He met her at some social events; he recalled who she was when she came in with the letter from Baton Rouge.” Harry nodded in speculative fashion. He was wondering just how Jerry Bodwin might figure in the picture.
“Of course,” added Andrew. “I didn’t press Jerry too closely for information. I would rather talk directly to Fanchon, after she arrives.”
“You will have the opportunity?”
“Yes. Look at the palm tree, here to our right. Do you notice how it cuts off the corner toward the fireplace?”
Harry looked and nodded.
“After I have danced with Fanchon,” explained Andrew, “we shall seat ourselves on the bench by that palm, which no one has noticed. If you stand directly behind the palm, Harry, you will be able to hear our conversation. More than that, you will be able to watch Fanchon and notice her reaction. I am going to talk about the money.”
Harry was about to speak, when he saw Lieutenant Wayson enter. He nudged Andrew, who nodded.
“I’ll see you later, Harry,” said Andrew. “Be ready, when the time comes.”
ANDREW walked over and shook hands with Wayson. The lieutenant chatted a few minutes; then departed. He had merely stopped in to say hello.
Hardly had Wayson gone before two other persons arrived. Harry knew that they must be Jerry Bodwin and Fanchon Callier. Andrew began to introduce them, as the dance ended. Harry joined those who were shaking hands with the newcomers and learned that his surmise was correct.
The dance was resumed. Harry, as a non-participant, watched Fanchon. This was the first time that he had seen the girl, and Harry was impressed by her attractiveness. He began to share Andrew’s opinion that Fanchon must be an innocent party in the chain of circumstances that had terminated with violent crime.
Fanchon had danced first with Jerry Bodwin. Her second dance was with Andrew. He waited until most of the benches had been occupied; then found the one in the small corner beside the fireplace.
When Andrew sat down beside Fanchon, both were partly obscured from the view of others in the room. Harry, sidling behind the palm, found a perfect hiding place.
A decorative light shade was awry. Andrew tried to adjust it. He managed so that the glow showed Fanchon’s face more plainly; the girl, in turn, could study Andrew’s countenance. Harry obtained a good view of both.
“So you like New Orleans?” queried Andrew.
“Very much,” replied Fanchon. “The French Quarter particularly, now that I have really begun to visit it.”
“You should have been here during Mardi Gras,” remarked Andrew. “New Orleans is at its best when Carnival reigns.”
“I was!” exclaimed Fanchon, with enthusiasm. “Mardi Gras was wonderful!”
“Did you join the masqueraders?”
“Not exactly. I did have a costume; but I wore it only a short time.”
“I could picture it,” speculated Andrew, with a slight smile. “Yes, I could imagine the very costume that would suit you.”
“What type of costume, for instance?”
Andrew looked toward the ceiling, as though considering Fanchon’s question. He spoke slowly.
“You would be most charming,” he said, “in a ballet costume. One of the old-fashioned sort that is seen in the pages of old books.”
Another dance was beginning; but Fanchon did not seem to hear the music. Harry could see the girl’s eyes open as they gazed toward Andrew. He was still looking toward the ceiling, with a look that one would wear when recalling the past.
“ADVENTURE intrigues me,” resumed Andrew. “Therefore, my imagination is often influenced by scenes which I have observed. During Mardi Gras, I chanced to see an attractive ballet costume, worn by a girl who might have been you.”
“In one of the pageants?” queried Fanchon, artfully.
“No,” answered Andrew. “Here in Frenchtown, near my favorite restaurant, Gallion’s. The girl was holding an object; it appeared to be a box of ebony, with silver corners.”
“Most curious!” exclaimed Fanchon. “Was she waiting for someone?”
“Yes,” nodded Andrew. “A man, dressed in the costume of an old New Orleans cavalier. A fellow who carried a short sword at his side. The girl gave him the box.”
“Most amazing!” Fanchon spoke tensely. “Did they talk together? The dancer and the cavalier?”
“For a few moments only. Then they parted. Both were masked. The whole incident was a mystery. I have wondered much about it since. Particularly about the contents of the box. The contents must have been important, for the girl gave the man a key.”
“Perhaps the girl was returning letters that the man had written her.”
“No. They appeared to be strangers. That was the most intriguing part of it. Do you know, Miss Callier, I have been fancying a sequel to that episode. Studying it, of course, from the man’s viewpoint.”
“I should like to hear your conclusion.”
“Suppose” — Andrew paused to lower his gaze and look out toward the dance floor — “suppose that the box had contained money. Much money, in bank notes. Money that the man had not expected to receive.”
“Could that have been possible?” inquired Fanchon, in a low, strained tone. Harry saw her looking straight toward Andrew. “Did the box look light enough for that?”
“Paper money,” returned Andrew, “is no heavier than letters.”
“But the box could have held documents. Important ones like — like deeds to property, or — or—”
“Suppose that it held money,” insisted Andrew. “Remember, the man did not know who the girl was. Yet she insisted that the ebony box was his. Should he feel free to spend it?”
“I suppose so. Since the girl had insisted that the box belonged to him.”
“But if the girl had made a mistake—”
“I see. He would have been worried about her?”
“Logically, yes.”
“But, the girl was a stranger.”
“Why should that make a difference?”
ANDREW looked straight toward Fanchon as he spoke. Harry saw the girl turn her head in time to avoid his glance.
She did not answer the question. Andrew spoke again.
“Suppose,” he said, quietly, “that the man saw the girl again; or saw a girl who resembled her. One who had a voice like the girl who had been in costume. Suppose he was sure that he had found the girl; that she exceeded the fleeting impression that he had gained of her; that he found her lovelier—”
“You were speaking about the money.” Fanchon, her composure regained, met Andrew’s gaze directly.
“I told you that I believed the money would be rightfully his.”
“That would be your full opinion?”
“Absolutely! I feel positive that the girl must have obeyed instructions. In fact, she might not have known what was actually in the box. If she gave it to the wrong man, I doubt that she would have been criticized by the person who had told her to deliver the box.”