Bart Wayne hurried to the downstairs telephone. Denise Clarke took Mrs. Mallory’s arm and accompanied her up the stairs. Jane Mallory stood where she was, unable to move or even think because of the shock of what the nurse had said. It couldn’t be possible! She saw as on a vague surface of consciousness the straight back of Sarah Mallory and the airy slim figure of Denise Clarke as they moved up the stairs. Denise was dressed in a wide-skirted cocktail dress of light blue silk. Her golden hair was freshly waved and shining. Sarah Mallory’s white hair was pulled straight up in a bun. Her back in her black dress was straight and lean.
Bart had said at the airport that Dick had taken a turn for the better. Denise must have stopped in on her way to some party or other. Sarah Mallory would have phoned her any good news at once, even though she wouldn’t go to any trouble to relieve Jane Mallory’s strain with a second telegram which could have reached her along the way. It wasn’t because she thought Jane would suffer. It was only another way of showing her hatred for her daughter-in-law. Sarah adored Denise. The only people she loved in the whole wide world were her son, Dick, and Denise Clarke.
Was the nurse right? Was Dick Mallory dead? Jane didn’t believe it. A trained nurse must be a hysterical type indeed to scream out like that. But it couldn’t be true. How could it be true?
Jane heard vaguely Bart’s deep steady voice on the extension of the telephone. She didn’t hear what he said.
He came back. “That’s a break. The doctor was already on his way here.”
He took her arm. He steadied her as he guided her along the hall to the sitting room. He helped her to the sofa and, saying he might be needed, went upstairs. He had only just gone when the housekeeper, Ada Rollo, came in. Her lean dark face was solemn but kind.
“I’m happy to see you, Miss Jane.”
“Thank you. How are you, Ada?”
“Fine. I had the kettle boiling. Here’s tea, honey.”
“Oh, I don’t want anything, Ada.”
Ada put the tray on the coffee table and knelt and put a match to the laid fire.
“Let the tea steep a few minutes. I heard what the nurse yelled out. Don’t take on, Miss Jane. It was bound to happen and better to happen in bed than falling downstairs or out a window. He’s been a great trial to Miss Sarah all along.”
“Did you hear the nurse say he was dead?”
“Yes. I was coming through the dining room. I came because I wanted to speak to you before you left, Miss Jane.”
Ada Rollo tested the tea in a cup, said it was ready, poured it, and offered it strong and straight, the way Jane liked it. Saying she’d get a little brandy for the tea she went out, came back, and poured a jigger in the tea. Lifting the cup and saucer she handed it to Jane.
“Drink it, honey. And eat those little sandwiches. Maybe you haven’t eaten today.” Jane hadn’t but she made no answer except to sip from the cup. The brandy tasted good. “I must go upstairs to Miss Amelia. She’ll be all upset. You just sit and drink your tea and eat something. I left the brandy on the sideboard.”
Mrs. Rollo’s friendliness brought Jane’s tears close again. She nodded mutely and Mrs. Rollo left the room. The tall dark narrow woman wore a black uniform, which made her seem taller and darker and narrower. She wore her largest white apron. Since the war she had been cook as well as housekeeper and she had been in service with Sarah Mallory for forty years or more. She’d made no secret of her fondness for Jane the year she had spent in this house.
Jane was still sipping tea, her hands still gloved, when she heard Dr. Seth Godwin slam the front door open and race up the stairs. She set down her cup. Her body felt rigid and stunned. If only Dick weren’t dead! If only the nurse were wrong! It had nothing to do with Jane’s own decision. Now more than ever she must be free from Dick Mallory. That last scene was usual. It would be repeated over and over as before, and she would go away again as before. But she wanted him to live. Please let him live, she prayed in silence. Seth is a fine doctor, the best. Let Dick live. He might stop drinking. He might …
“Jane, dear.” Bart Wayne had come into the room. He carried the brandy bottle. “Here. Have some of this.”
“Have more.”
Jane shook her head. Bart poured himself tea and laced it stiffly with brandy. Jane waited. He drank the cup and gave himself another, more brandy than tea.
“What does Seth say?” Jane asked, then.
“Dick’s gone.”
“Oh,” Jane sighed. “Oh.”
“I don’t know anything more than that. Seth made us all leave the room. Except the nurse.”
“Oh, Bart. Poor Mrs. Mallory!”
“Cousin Sarah’s like somebody dead herself. She hasn’t said a word or shed a tear. Denise Clarke is throwing a fit a minute.”
“Wouldn’t it be better for Mrs. Mallory to cry or something, Bart?”
“That’s what they say. Seth will look after her, Jane. He’s a darn good doctor.” Bart picked up the teapot. There was no more tea, so he poured more brandy in his cup. “Have some more of this, Jane dear.”
“Thank you, Bart. I’ve had quite enough.”
“I suppose I’ve had enough, too. Funny thing. When I’ve seen Dick pulling his practical jokes and sadistic capers I’ve got so damn mad that I’d think it would be better for everybody if he were dead. Now he’s dead and it’s hit me hard. Why don’t you take off your gloves, Jane? You’ll be here a while, I’m afraid.”
“I’ll keep them on, I think. As soon as possible I’ll go to the hotel. Perhaps I can go back to town with Seth.”
“Seth won’t let anybody leave. He’s phoned the hospital to send an ambulance …”
“The hospital?”
“Seth insists on a post-mortem in all cases of sudden death. The pathologist at the hospital performs them in the hospital morgue, along with the county coroner. Cousin Sarah demanded it, too. She insists that Dick was murdered.”
“Murdered?”
“I’m warning you, Jane. Cousin Sarah told Seth Godwin that you were in Dick’s room when he died. She said you left him dead, walked across the hall to the bath, and took your own time fixing yourself to leave the house, knowing he was dead.”
“That’s not true!” Jane cried, angrily.
“I’m sure it isn’t, dear. I’m telling you first so they won’t spring it on you. That goddamned nurse agreed with everything Cousin Sarah said.”
“Well, it’s not true!” Jane repeated again. She felt her strength come back because it wasn’t true. “I did not kill Dick. That’s all there is to it. It’s not true.”
“Of course it isn’t true. I’m for you, Jane. That’s why I hurried down to you. I guess that’s also why I’m drinking too much brandy.” He put the bottle on the table.
His smile was reassuring. He reached a hand and put it over one of Jane’s. She felt a little peace in her heart. Her breath tightened. I could love him, she thought. He’s everything I thought Dick was in the beginning. His eyes met hers in warm understanding. He was a friend. She would need friends.
Seth Godwin was long and gangling and red-headed and swift-moving. He came running down the stairs and three or four strides brought him along the hall to the living room. He carried two bags which he settled on the nearest chair. He offered his hand to Jane Mallory. Neither spoke until Seth spied the gloves and scratches on her wrists.
“Take those gloves off, Jane.”
Jane’s wrists were covered with scratches. The hand which Dick had bitten was swollen and black, with dried blood around the deeper toothmarks. Seth stepped back for his bags.
Bart was staring with horror at Jane’s wounds.
“Mrs. Mallory wants you to come to her, Bart,” Seth said. “She’s lying down in one of the bedrooms upstairs.”
Bart was still staring at Jane’s hands. He pulled himself to attention to the doctor.
“I’ll go right now. Anything I can do to help you here, Seth?”
“No. Just stay with Mrs. Mallory. Denise isn’t much help. By the way, you might first ask Mrs. Rollo to bring me a basin of hot water. And soap.”
“Okay.” Bart hurried toward the kitchen wing and Seth said, quietly, “I can see that you got the usual treatment from Dick, Jane?”
“Yes. But I was taken by surprise.”
“Why in God’s name did you come back?”
“Mrs. Mallory sent me a telegram saying that Dick was dying and to come at once. That he might not even get through the day.”
“She denies that, Jane. Have you got the telegram?”
“No. I threw it in a wastebasket in my apartment.”
“No difference. Western Union will have a copy. What happened exactly after you went into Dick’s room?”
“We were left alone. He was sitting against a stack of pillows and seemed asleep. He looked so … so sad and forlorn. So lost. I pulled up a chair and sat down. He opened his eyes. He seemed happy to have me there and then … and then …”
“And then what?”
Bart Wayne paused at the door.
“Hot water coming right in. Anything else I can do, Seth?”
“Just look after Mrs. Mallory. Take over for me there, will you, Bart? The nurse knows what to do, but she’s upset, too.”
Bart walked on and went running up the stairs.
“Go on, Jane.”
“Well, suddenly he was like he used to be sometimes. He grabbed me and started kissing me. He grasped my wrists hard. I couldn’t get free. Then he … he sank his teeth in my hand. I kept trying to get away and couldn’t. Suddenly he got weak. He sort of gasped, asking for medicine. There was a capsule on the table beside his bed.” Seth nodded and said it was a sedative, always kept within reach. “I put the capsule in a spoon and gave it to him and also a few sips of water. I left him, then.”
Ada Rollo entered with a basin of hot water, soap, and towels. She stood by to help the doctor if wanted. He had Jane put her hands in the water, and then scrubbed them with soap. He dried them on one of the towels and painted the wounds with an antiseptic. Ada Rollo took up the basin with the soap still in the hot water and put the towels over one arm and left the room.
Dr. Seth got up and fetched two glasses from the dining room. He poured brandy in each and handed one to Jane.
“I don’t want it, Seth. I’ve had some.”
“Drink some more, Jane. I’m going to tell you something that I haven’t told the others. I know what your situation was here. I’ve patched you up often enough. You got a dirty deal and you walked into it blind. Nobody could ever have stood up to Sarah Mallory. Any woman who married Dick would have been her deadly enemy.”
“Denise?”
“She didn’t marry him. That wouldn’t ever have come off. The mother and the son fought their endless fight over you. Dick wouldn’t divorce you, Jane, because your marriage gave him a hold over his mother. I don’t say he didn’t love you. In his way, he did. But let me say what I’ve got to say quickly. Dick Mallory was poisoned.”
“Oh, Seth, that’s what Mrs. Mallory said.”
“Not exactly. She said he was murdered. It would have been very interesting if she had actually said poisoned. She told me he was murdered. He was. I don’t think any of them know what killed him. I’ve got his room locked up. He was poisoned with cyanide.”
Jane’s gaze was rigid. “Sit tight, Jane. I’m with you. But don’t say a word. If I’m correct, Bart Wayne will be for you, too. They don’t come any better than Bart. But don’t talk. Don’t, don’t talk!”
“But I’ve got nothing to say except what I told you, Seth.”
“Don’t tell that to anyone else! Don’t tell anybody what happened while you were with Dick.”
The doctor thought it over.
“No, not even to Bart. It’s only for a short time, Jane. There’ll be an inquiry. You can tell your story then.”